On the 13th the royal family left Turin and set out for Nice, and a proclamation was issued that the Prince of Carignano had been appointed regent of the realm. He was soon afterwards installed in full sovereignty, and the constitution of Spain proclaimed.
We may be permitted in closing this necessarily very short sketch of the two revolutions, to quote a passage from that most amusing but slightly erratic writer, Lady Morgan, on the subject of the Piedmontese Revolution:—“Had this revolution not been disturbed by the unprincipled interference of foreign nations it would have led to the happiest consequences. What is to be said of a Government which reduces the great majority of the people to a slavish insensibility to national degradation, to a perfect indifference to national honour?”
It may certainly be asked, on the other hand, how a nation reduced to the state described by Lady Morgan could be entrusted to work out for itself a revolution which “would have led to the happiest consequences.” But liberty in Italy, as elsewhere, must have taken time to grow; even under the most patriotic of leaders a nation does not become suddenly ripe for the blessings of freedom. Nor can it be doubted that by the spirit that moved in 1820–1822, and which burst forth so brightly in aftertime, were laid the first foundations of that structure of Italian unity finally completed by politicians more skilled but not more patriotic than the revolutionists.
How far Panizzi’s own country, Modena, was concerned in the attempted work of liberation will be best shown by a short notice of his book, the “Processi di Rubiera.”
By this work, no doubt originally intended for the world, but even then so sparingly circulated and subsequently so rigidly suppressed by the writer that very few persons have even seen it, the circumstances which drove Panizzi into exile, though not detailed in all their fulness, are illustrated and rendered intelligible.
A somewhat minute analysis is not therefore out of place here, although, whether from indisposition to thrust himself forward or from fear of compromising others, the author’s name occurs but once or twice in the body of the work, which therefore contributes hardly anything to the elucidation of his own biography. It has usually been referred to as “I Processi di Rubiera,” Rubiera being the name of the fortress situated between Reggio and Modena, where the prosecution of Modenese political offenders was conducted before a tribunal nominated ad hoc. The title of the book, however, is “Dei Processi e delle Sentenze contra gli imputati di Lesa-Maestà e di aderenza alle Sette proscritte negli Stati di Modena;” 247 pages, besides the title, Madrid, 8°., 1823. The imprint was a disguise; the publication, if the work can be said to have been published, took place at Lugano. The designation of the anonymous editor, dating from Madrid, Feb. 2, 1823, and subscribing himself, “Un membro della società landeburiana,” was no doubt equally apocryphal, and may probably have concealed Panizzi himself. The document is altogether one of the most interesting productions of its author, especially as an indication of the eminence he might have attained in his chosen profession of advocacy had his lot been cast in a free State. The style borders on the oratorical, charged with fiery but restrained indignation, while the vehemence of invective is supported by legal acumen, and a thorough acquaintance with the maxims of jurisprudence, to which the writer continually appeals. His power of recollection and mastery of incidents, whether public or personal, appear extraordinary when it is considered that, his papers having been seized at Cremona, Panizzi himself must have depended to a very great extent upon his memory. Yet the completeness of the documents, which are all given in full, induce the belief that he might somehow have preserved this part of his materials, or have subsequently obtained it indirectly. Some inaccuracies may well have crept unheeded into the narrative under such circumstances, and this may possibly account for his evident desire to suppress the work. Years after, being questioned on the subject by the biographer, he answered, “Better say nothing about it.” It seems difficult to assign any other reason, unless it might be an excessive deference to the sentiment alluded to in the preface, “che lo scoprire le turpitudini delta patria sua, comecchè a ciascuna persona non istia bene, a coloro poi che per capriccio di malvagia fortuna furono fuori del seno di lei trabalzati, più specialmente non convenga.” The tone of the production can scarcely have been disapproved by his maturer judgment. Though emphatic, it is always decorous, whilst the literary effect is even impaired by a punctilious adherence to constitutional fictions in criticizing the acts of the sovereign. There is nothing capable of being construed to the writer’s own disadvantage, unless an adversary were sufficiently malicious or prejudiced to discover an incentive to political assassination, in his report of a matter of fact, that Modena rejoiced at hearing the news that a tyrannical official could persecute his fellow-townsmen no more. This moderation of tone certainly cannot have arisen from any vacillation on Panizzi’s part. He never altered his opinion of the Modenese Government; and, even if his mere opinion were disregarded, the documents printed by him speak sufficiently for themselves. It is fortunate that he did not succeed in entirely suppressing so lamentable an illustration of the forlorn condition of the Italy of his youth.
The book commences with a retrospective survey of the then recent history of Italy, displaying remarkable insight into personal character, and containing shrewd remarks on State policy. This introduction may one day be appealed to as a testimony that the true founder of Italian independence and unity was neither Charles Albert nor Victor Emmanuel, not Cavour, nor Mazzini, nor Garibaldi, but Napoleon. Nothing, certainly, could have been farther from the intention of the rapacious conqueror, who, ere the ink was well dry with which he had assured the citizens of the Cisalpine Republic that their liberties would shortly be secure, proceeded to confiscate them himself.
A contemporary writer mentions the project which Bonaparte is known to have long entertained, for consolidating Italy into one State, and adds: “While he was Emperor of France he probably intended to administer his new Government by a Viceroy, but since his abdication we are satisfied from all we have seen and heard of his conduct that he dreams of his Italian kingdom for himself.”
It was, however, impossible for a revolutionary invader, whose authority involved the negation of the old order of things, to govern Italy without appealing to Italian national sentiment. The various branches of administration fell into the hands of natives. A national army was formed which participated to the full in the glories of the Empire, and Italy regained something of that reputation for valour and conduct which she had forfeited for three hundred years. The Italian youth, no longer condemned by the jealousy of their rulers to an existence of indolence and frivolity, awoke to the perception that their immediate progenitors had reversed the mission of their forefathers.
Excudent alii spirantia mollius æra, …
Tu regere imperio populos, Romane, memento.
For themselves, if still subjects, they were no longer slaves.
Napoleon, “nato,” in Panizzi’s pregnant phrase, “per dar l’orma all’età sua”, prepared the way for the love of liberty by reviving the love of glory. Looking around them, the Italians beheld an enlightened code of laws, impartial judges, religious toleration, education fostered by the State, active industry, flourishing finances, above all, a strictly national administration, with every post accessible to desert. The instinctive sagacity of the race taught them to be content with so large a measure of good for the present, and to reserve their aspirations for independence until their beneficent master should bequeath his empire to his son. That day never came. Bonaparte fell, execrated by the many nations which he had pillaged and dismembered, but cherished by the one he had trained to national life, with a regard which is still a force in European politics.
Six millions of Italians had, in Napoleon’s time at least, been permitted to bear the Italian name. The Congress of Vienna resolved them back into Lombards, Piedmontese, and the people of Parma and Modena. Modena was assigned to the Austrian Archduke, descended on the female side from the ancient house of Este, a petty tyrant of a peculiarly exasperating type, timorous, suspicious, and hypocritical. His first act was to abolish the Code Napoleon, and replace it by the code