"I am only consistent," he insisted. We were here interrupted, and I called to mind the cave a censequentariis of Leibnitz.

Too many are inclined to adopt this false and terrible doctrine. I follow the standard A, that is JUSTICE. Another follows standard B; it must therefore be that of INJUSTICE, and, consequently, he must be a villain!

Give ME none of your logical madness; whatever standard you adopt, do not reason so inhumanly. Consider, that by a.s.suming what data you please, and proceeding with the most violent stretch of rigour from one consequence to another, it is easy for any one to come to the conclusion that, "Beyond we four, all the rest of the world deserve to be burnt alive." And if we are at the pains of investigating a little further, we shall find each of the four crying out, "All deserve to be burnt alive together, with the exception of I myself."

This vulgar tenet of exclusiveness is in the highest degree unphilosophical. A moderate degree of suspicion is wise, but when urged to the extreme, it is the opposite.

After the hint thus thrown out to me respecting that angelo custode, I turned to study him with greater attention than I had before done; and each day served to convince me more and more of his friendly and generous nature.

When an order of society, more or less perfect, has been established, whether for better or worse, all the social offices, not p.r.o.nounced by general consent to be infamous, all that are adapted to promote the public good, and the confidence of a respectable number, and which are filled by men acknowledged to be of upright mind, such offices may undeniably be undertaken by honest men without incurring any charge of unconscientiousness.

I have read of a Quaker who had a great horror of soldiers. He one day saw a soldier throw himself into the Thames, and save the life of a fellow-being who was drowning. "I don't care," he exclaimed, "I will still be a Quaker, but there are some good fellows, even among soldiers."

CHAPTER XCVIII.

Stundberger accompanied me to my vehicle, into which I got with the brigadier of gens d'armes, to whose care I was entrusted. It was snowing, and the cold was excessive.

"Wrap yourself well up in your cloak," said Stundberger; "cover your head better, and contrive to reach home as little unwell as you can; remember, that a very little thing will give you cold just now. I wish it had been in my power to go on and attend you as far as Turin." He said this in a tone of voice so truly cordial and affectionate that I could not doubt its sincerity.

"From this time you will have no German near you," he added; "you will no longer hear our language spoken, and little, I dare say, will you care for that; the Italians find it very harsh. Besides, you have suffered so greatly among us, that most probably you will not like to remember us; yet, though you will so soon forget my very name, I shall not cease, sir, to offer up prayers for your safety."

"I shall do the same for you," I replied; as I shook his hand for the last time.

"Guten morgen! guten morgen! gute raise! leben sie wohl!"--farewell; a pleasant journey! good morning he continued to repeat; and the sounds were to me as sweat as if they had been p.r.o.nounced in my native tongue.

I am pa.s.sionately attached to my country, but I do not dislike any other nation. Civilisation, wealth, power, glory, are differently apportioned among different people; but in all there are minds obedient to the great vocation of man,--to love, to pity, and to a.s.sist each other.

The brigadier who attended me, informed me that he was one of those who arrested Confalonieri. He told me how the unhappy man had tried to make his escape; how he had been baffled, and how he had been torn from the arms of his distracted wife, while they both at the same time submitted to the calamity with dignity and resignation.

The horrible narrative increased my fear; a hand of iron seemed to be weighing upon my heart. The good man, in his desire of showing his sociality, and entertaining me with his remarks, was not aware of the horror he excited in me when I cast my eye on those hands which had seized the person of my unfortunate friend.

He ordered luncheon at Buffalora, but I was unable to taste anything. Many years back, when I was spending my time at Arluno, with the sons of Count Porro, I was accustomed to walk thither (to Buffalora), along the banks of the Ticino. I was rejoiced to see the n.o.ble bridge, the materials of which I had beheld scattered along the Lombard sh.o.r.e, now finished, notwithstanding the general opinion that the design would be abandoned. I rejoiced to traverse the river and set my foot once more on Piedmontese ground. With all my attachment to other nations, how much I prefer Italy! yet Heaven knows that however much more delightful to me is the sound of the Italian name, still sweeter must be that of Piedmont, the land of my fathers.

CHAPTER XCIX.

Opposite to Buffalora lies San Martino. Here the Lombard brigadier spoke of the Piedmontese carabineers, saluted me, and repa.s.sed the bridge.

"Let us go to Novara!" I said to the Vetturino.

"Have the goodness to stay a moment," said a carabineer. I found I was not yet free; and was much vexed, being apprehensive it would r.e.t.a.r.d my arrival at the long-desired home. After waiting about a quarter of an hour, a gentleman came forward and requested to be allowed to accompany us as far as Novara. He had already missed one opportunity; there was no other conveyance than mine; and he expressed himself exceedingly happy that I permitted him to avail himself of it.

This carabineer in disguise was very good-humoured, and kept me company as far as Novara. Having reached that city, and feigning we were going to an hotel, he stopt at the barracks of the carabineers, and I was told there was a bed for me, and that I must wait the arrival of further orders. Concluding that I was to set off the next day, I went to bed, and after chatting some time with my host, I fell fast asleep; and it was long since I had slept so profoundly.

I awoke towards morning, rose as quickly as possible, and found the hours hang heavy on my hands. I took my breakfast, chatted, walked about the apartment and over the lodge, cast my eye over the host's books, and finally,--a visitor was announced. An officer had come to give me tidings respecting my father, and inform me that there was a letter from him, lying for me at Novara. I was exceedingly grateful to him for this act of humane courtesy. After a few hours, which to me appeared ages, I received my father's letter. Oh what joy to behold that hand-writing once more! what joy to learn that the best of mothers was spared to me! that my two brothers were alive, and also my eldest sister. Alas! my young and gentle Marietta, who had immured herself in the convent of the Visitazione, and of whom I had received so strange an account while a prisoner, had been dead upwards of nine months. It was a consolation for me to believe that I owed my liberty to all those who had never ceased to love and to pray for me, and more especially to a beloved sister who had died with every expression of the most edifying devotion.

May the Almighty reward her for the many sufferings she underwent, and in particular for all the anxiety she experienced on my account.

Days pa.s.sed on; yet no permission for me to quit Novara! On the morning of the 16th of September, the desired order at length arrived, and all superintendence over me by the carabineers ceased.

It seemed strange! so many years had now elapsed since I had been permitted to walk unaccompanied by guards. I recovered some money; I received the congratulations of some of my father's friends, and set out about three in the afternoon. The companions of my journey were a lady, a merchant, an engraver, and two young painters; one of whom was both deaf and dumb. These last were coming from Rome; and I was much pleased by hearing from them that they were acquainted with the family of my friend Maroncelli, for how pleasant a thing it is to be enabled to speak of those we love, with some one not wholly indifferent to them.

We pa.s.sed the night at Vercelli. The happy day, the 17th of September, dawned at last. We pursued our journey; and how slow we appeared to travel! it was evening before we arrived at Turin.

Who would attempt to describe the consolation I felt, the nameless feelings of delight, when I found myself in the embraces of my father, my mother, and my two brothers? My dear sister Giuseppina was not then with them; she was fulfilling her duties at Chieri; but on hearing of my felicity, she hastened to stay for a few days with our family, to make it complete. Restored to these five long- sighed-for, and beloved objects of my tenderness,--I was, and I still am, one of the most enviable of mankind.

Now, therefore, for all my past misfortunes and sufferings, as well as for all the good or evil yet reserved for me, may the providence of G.o.d be blessed; of G.o.d, who renders all men, and all things, however opposite the intentions of the actors, the wonderful instruments which He directs to the greatest and best of purposes.

Footnotes:

{1} Piero Maroncelli da Forli, an excellent poet, and most amiable man, who had also been imprisoned from political motives. The author speaks of him at considerable length, as the companion of his sufferings, in various parts of his work.

{2} A bailiff.

{3} A sort of scream peculiar to dumb children.

{4} Melchiorre Gioja, a native of Piacenza, was one of the most profound writers of our times, princ.i.p.ally upon subjects of public economy. Being suspected of carrying on a secret correspondence, he was arrested in 1820, and imprisoned for a s.p.a.ce of nine months.

Among the more celebrated of his works are those ent.i.tled, Nuovo prospetto delle Scienze Economiche, Trattato del Merito e delle Ricompense, Dell' Ingiuria e dei Danni, Filosofia della Statistica, Ideologia e Esercizo Logico, Delle Manifatture, Del Divorzio, Elementi di Filosofia, Nuovo Galateo, Qual Governo convenga all'

Italia. This able writer died in the month of January, 1829.

{5} The Count Luigi Porro was one of the most distinguished men of Milan, and remarkable for the zeal and liberality with which he promoted the cultivation of literature and the arts. Having early remarked the excellent disposition of the youthful Pellico, the Count invited him to reside in his mansion, and take upon himself the education of his sons, uniformly considering him, at the same time, more in the light of a friend than of a dependent. Count Porro himself subsequently fell under the suspicions of the Austrian Government, and having betaken himself to flight, was twice condemned to death (as contumacious), the first time under the charge of Carbonarism, and the second time for a pretended conspiracy. The sons of Count Porro are more than once alluded to by their friend and tutor, as the author designates himself.

{6} This excellent tragedy, suggested by the celebrated episode in the fifth canto of Dante's Inferno, was received by the whole of Italy with the most marked applause. Such a production at once raised the young author to a high station in the list of Italy's living poets.

{7} The Cavalier Giovanni Bodoni was one of the most distinguished among modern printers. Becoming admirably skilled in his art, and in the oriental languages, acquired in the college of the Propaganda at Rome, he went to the Royal Printing Establishment at Parma, of which he took the direction in 1813, and in which he continued till the period of his death. In the list of the numerous works which he thence gave to the world may be mentioned the Pater Noster Poligletto, the Iliad in Greek, the Epithalamia Exoticis, and the Manuale Tipografico, works which will maintain their reputation to far distant times.

{8} The Count Bolza, of the lake of Como, who has continued for years in the service of the Austrian Government, showing inexorable zeal in the capacity of a Commissary of Police.

{9} The learning of Ugo Foscolo, and the reputation he acquired by his Hymn upon the Tombs, his Last Letters of Jecopo Ortis, his Treatises upon Dante, Petrarch, Boccaccio, &c, are well-known in this country, where he spent a considerable portion of his life, and died in the year 1827.

{10} The Cavalier Vincenzo Monti stands at the head of the modern poets of Italy. His stanzas on the Death of Uge Basville obtained for him the t.i.tle of Dante Redivivo. His works, both in verse and prose, are numerous, and generally acknowledged to be n.o.ble models in their several styles. His tragedy of Aristodemo, takes the lead among the most admirable specimens of the Italian drama. He died at Milan in the year 1829.

{11} Monsignor Lodovico di Breme, son of the Marquis of the same name, a Piedmontese, an intimate friend of the celebrated Madame de Stael, of Mons. Sismondi, &c, and a man of elevated sentiments, brilliant spirit, high cultivation, and accomplishments.

{12} Don Pietro Borsieri, son of a judge of the Court of Appeal at Milan, of which, previous to his receiving sentence of death, he was one of the state secretaries. He is the author of several little works and literary essays, all written with singular energy and chasteness of language.

{13} La Signora Angiola.

{14} "Venezianina adolescente sbirra?"

{15} Tremerello, or the little trembler.