to neglect; but who is none the less our master, not as regards ideas, which have altered with the times, but in having taught us a higher and nobler view of art, a retempered style, and a devotion to the great idea of Father-land, forgotten by all those authors of his day and they were the majority — who wrote in the name of princes, patrons, or academies.

I knew that among the many works he had begun during his exile many had only been partially completed; while others, owing to the poverty and isolation in which he lived, had been lost. I set to work to search them out, and after long and fruitless seeking I found besides several letters to Edgar Taylor, now nearly all included in the Lemonnier edition, which I helped to collect all that he had completed of his work upon the great poem of Dante, and the proof-sheets of about two thirds of the "Lettera Apologetica," at that time quite unknown in Italy. This last discovery was a real joy to me. These pages, without any title and without the author's name, were thrown aside with several torn papers, evidently destined to be destroyed, in a room at the house of Pickering the publisher.

That none among the many Italians established in London, or travelling to England for their amusement, should have sought for those papers earlier, when all of them might probably have been saved, and that the honor of restoring them to our country, at least eleven years after Foscolo's death, should have been left to another exile, in poverty also, like myself, is one among many proofs of the indifference and ingratitude which are the common vices of enslaved peoples. But it is more sad that at the present day, while the Italians boast themselves free, no

voice should be raised to say: "Instead of sending gifts to princesses who never have done, nor will do anything for your country, and raising monuments to ministers who have done mischief to her, in the name of gratitude raise a stone in memory of him who preserved the dignity of Italian literature, and of his own soul inviolate, when all, or nearly all, prostituted both." But, however, it is perhaps better as it is. The Italy which, either through cowardice or hypocrisy, crouches before the Nephew, could ill appease the spirit of the only man who stood forth the inexorable and incorruptible judge of the tyrannical ambition of the Uncle. It was I, then, who discovered those works, and I mention it here, because, whether from accident or intention, all have been silent on the subject. But the publisher, who, from ignorance of their value, had hitherto despised them, became exacting when he saw my eagerness on the subject, and refused to part with them unless I also purchased the work on the text of Dante, for which he demanded £400.

I was very poor; I could not at that time have answered for four hundred pence. I wrote to Quirina Magiotti, an exceptional woman and exceptional friend, to help me to redeem these relics of the man she had loved and esteemed beyond all others. She did so; but the bookseller persisted in not selling the one work without the other, and she could not purchase both. How at last, after many useless attempts, I succeeded in persuading Pietro Rolandi, an Italian publisher, settled in London, who was very friendly to me, to pay that sum, and take upon himself the expenses of the edition, I really do not know. It was a miracle which my earnest determination to succeed

wrought upon a man, prudent and timid both from necessity and habit, but at heart more tender of his country's glory than booksellers generally are. Other pages of the precious little book, the very pages following those I had acquired, were shortly afterwards found in a trunk full of papers belonging to Foscolo, which had been saved from dispersion by the Canon Riego, the only man who watched by the bedside of the exile during his last illness,—which afterwards came into the possession of Eurico Mayer, and other friends at Leghorn, but had never been examined until then. The discovery of the last fragments awakened an energy in all of them, which resulted in giving to Italy, first, the volume of the Political Writings of Foscolo, which I published at Lugano, and then the Florentine edition, directed with l'intelletto d'amore, by Orlandini. A biography was still wanting this I undertook, but adverse circumstances and many cares prevented me from writing it. The man who could and ought to have done so was G. B. Niccolini. He also is now dead, and his own life is still unwritten. But the Foscolo edition of Dante cost me far greater labor. I offered, as it was my duty towards the generous publisher to do, to edit the work and correct the proofs. Owing to stress of poverty and illness, Foscolo had only completed the first part of his undertaking ("L'Inferno "). The "Purgatory" and "Paradise" consisted only of leaves of the common edition, to which strips of paper were attached, for the purpose of writing the various readings; but these, and the alterations and corrections were wanting, as well as all trace of selection or revision of texts.

For some time I remained in doubt whether it was

not my duty to tell Rolandi everything; but Pickering was inexorable; he would sell all or nothing, and the Italian bookseller would not be likely to give such a sum for the "Inferno" alone. It appeared to me a sacred duty, both towards Foscolo and the study of Dante, not to allow the work already completed to be lost; and I believed myself to be able to complete it according to the rules and plan laid down by Foscolo in his corrections of the first part, by identifying myself, as it were, with his method; the only one, in my opinion, which, by purifying the work from the influence of municipalities (Tuscan or Friulian mattered little), restored its profoundly Italian character. I was silent, therefore, and undertook myself the task of selection from the various readings, and the orthographical correction of the text. I did the work in the most conscientious manner possible, tremblingly anxious not to let my solicitude render me irreverent either towards the genius of Dante or the talent of Foscolo. I religiously consulted the MSS. texts (unknown in Italy) of Mazzuchelli and Roscoe. For six months my bed, for I had but one room, was covered with editions of the poem, in which I studied the various readings which the want of an original text, the ignorance of copyists, or local conceit, had accumulated throughout long ages upon almost every verse. At the present day I think it right to declare the truth, and to separate my work from that of Foscolo.

In 1844 the expedition of the brothers Bandiera took place. As the "Records of the Brothers Bandfara," which I published shortly after their death, contain all that is important on the subject, I do not

intend to enter upon it here.1 But the incident of the violation of my correspondence at the English post-office deserves a few words of notice. It is an episode of ministerial immorality worthy to be set beside the affair of the spy Conseil, which I have already related; a species of immorality still systematically carried on by the monarchical governments of Europe.

About the middle of the year 1844-I do not now remember whether in June or July-I discovered that the letters of my correspondents in London— amongst whom were several bankers, through whom I was in the habit of receiving my foreign lettersalways reached me at least two hours after the right time. The letters are sent from the different postoffices in London to the General Post-office,2 where they are stamped with a stamp indicating the hour of their arrival. The distribution to their several addresses takes place during the two hours ensuing. I now carefully examined the post-marks, and found the letters invariably bore the mark of two different stamps: the one intended to efface the other; the object of which appeared to be to make the hour of delivery correspond with that in which the letter had been received, and so to prevent the original stamp, or attestation by the receiver of the time when the letter was posted, being evidence of the fact of its detention.

This was enough for me; not so for others who were incredulous of any violation of what they termed British honor, and they received the expression of my suspicions with ironical smiles. The

1 These Records are inserted as Chapter VI.

2 It will be remembered that Mazzini is describing the post-office arrangements as they existed in 1844. Translator.