I have often watched with my own eyes, as in a magic lantern, all the most dramatic personages of Continental Europe pass one after the other.
Trieste became a refuge where all the political cripples, of whatever rank they were, discrowned kings and their ministers, came to seek asylum, and found it; my brother received them all under his hospitable roof.
For several years there was an almost daily succession of celebrated refugees, of all sorts and conditions. My brother was all things to all men, and was generally looked upon as the friend of humanity. He resembled Captain Cook, who sailed between two hostile fleets of savages, who were preparing to attack each other, and was saluted by both sides. His conduct at Trieste reminded me of that rich and pious citizen of Agrigentum who, it was said, sat at the gates of the city of Agrigentum in order to be the first to offer hospitality to the travellers who arrived. He imitated Gellias without knowing it, and his kindness and delicacy were so much
