great favorite with him. Coming in one morning as
usual, and sitting down in the arm-chair by the fire, he took from under
his arm a small paper-covered book, saying: "I have brought you
something that I know you will like to read. Giallo and I have enjoyed
it immensely; and a better critic than Giallo is not to be found in all
Italy, though I say it who shouldn't. An approving wag of his tail is
worth all the praise of all the Quarterlies published in the United
Kingdom." Hereupon Giallo, apparently delighted at this compliment,
barked and frisked about like a creature bewitched, jumped into his
master's lap, and did not return to a quiescent state until he had
kissed his master's face. "Down, Giallo, down!" finally cried Landor.
"Where are your manners, sir? Don't you know it is very uncivil to
interrupt a conversation? And, moreover, remember never to spoil a
_tete-a-tete_." Then turning to me, Landor continued, presenting the
book, "Here it is; the _Memorie Politiche di Felice Orsini_, which you
will find vastly entertaining and far more romantic than any novel. A
very noble, brave fellow was that Orsini, and handsome too! It is a
great pity he did not succeed in his plot against that scoundrel
Napoleon, although it was not well planned, and failure was written on
the face of it." Right gladly did I read memoirs which were all that
Landor (and Giallo) claimed. It is strange that this book should be so
little known. Were students of Italian to transfer their affections from
_Le mie Prigioni_ to these _Memorie Politiche_, they would be the
gainers; for the patriotism of Silvio Pellico is but a sick and weakly
sentiment compared with the dauntless energy and unflinching
determination of Orsini. His escape from Mantua, aided by no other
friends than four sheets and four towels, and described most admirably
and in detail by him, is one of the most brilliant and perilous exploits
in the annals of prison history. Those who knew Orsini have since told
me that he was one of the most lovable of men, as he was one of the most
handsome,--full of the fire of intense and stalwart manhood, yet as
gentle as a young girl. Disappointed and wronged in his domestic
relations, a loving but wretched father, and stung to madness by his
country's servitude, whose cause he early made his own, Orsini's life
was from the beginning a tragedy. Fate seemed to have wrested from him
every form of happiness in order to make him a more desperate
cons