the aid of Krall, Schiller, and Caliban, one of the common convicts, between Pellico, Maroncelli, Confalonieri, and Andryane, we with regret pass over; as also a long and touching letter from Maroncelli, giving an account of the prisoners with whose names we afterwards become fa

Don Stephano returned to Vienna to pass the winter, and their reunion on the Sabbath existed no more. Winter had come; the short days and long nights. The cold was so bitter that they could not take their walk without being chilled for the rest of the day. Their clothing was the same through winter and summer-their trousers were torn A new epoch took place in the prisons on the arrival of by the chains, and it was with difficulty that they could Don Stephano, an ecclesiastic. It might have been ex- walk yet Andryane implored leave to remain on the pected that the intellectual aspirations of Andryane would promenade, when the wind blew with violence and flakes have found new aid in the priest. Hitherto revenge and of snow fell; but the compassionate Krall would not permit degradation seems to have been the great object-punish-such exposure, though to Andryane any thing was better

miliar.

ment in its most abject forms. But when a minister, one who professes to be a true disciple of Jesus Christ, is sent among the prisoners, is it not natural to believe that the government and the emperor had some regard for the souls of the victims? Such appeared to be the object of the Abbe Pacionitz from his professions. What a noble field lay before him. Men of refinement and education-men whose sensibilities and sufferings prepared them for the grateful reception of sympathy and brotherly love. His first interview with the young Frenchinan destroys our sanguine topes; for we perceive that he is a creature of the Austrian government, and a man of narrow intellect, who uses religon as an engine of power. Still, however, we feel our At length Don Stephano returned. He assured Andryane sensibilities awakened when the period arrives in which that he had spoken favorably of him to his majesty, and Andryane is to be baptized. He had consented to the rep-that nothing was wanting but a full and free confession to resentations of the priest, who affected to doubt whether this sacrament of their church had ever taken place--though Andryane assured him that he had made his first communion, which would not have been permitted had there been doubts on the subject. The abbe asserted that it was necessary to his safety, and made a pathetic address in the name of his mother. The priest ordered his chains to be taken off."Baptism," said he, "is a sacrament of safety and deliverance, and he who receives it must not enter the house of the liberator with fetters upon his feet." After the ceremony they were replaced.

than the damp heat of the prison.

Poor Confalonieri! how terrible were his sufferings: he believed his end was near, and that he should never again behold his beloved Theresa. "Dieu vous reunira," said Andryane, taking his hand. "Dans une autre vie," he replied. His strength daily diminished, and his indisposition was extreme.

The winter of 1824 and 1825 was rigorous, and all suffered; but Pellico became seriously sick, and they trembled for his life. When it was known that he was better, it was a day of rejoicing among the captives-a day of happiness even at Spielberg!

When the Sabbath arrived, the doors of the prisons were brown open, and they appeared two and two in the corridor at a given signal. What a moment of surprise and emotion. Confalonieri was the principal object of recognition. They embraced him-they threw their arms about him, and gave him every mark of veneration as they surrounded him. Ah, how changed was his noble figure! what marks of suffering and sickness! They proceeded to the apel-Don Stephano was there, and indicated their

paces.

secure pardon. He informed him that the emperor was coming to Milan, and they began to entertain hope that they might find mercy. This news, which had reached the friends of Andryane in France, induced his sister to make another journey to Milan, in the hope of seeing the emperor and softening the sentence of imprisonment. Her journal is deeply interesting, but we have imposed upon ourselves the necessity of not transcribing from it. The journey proved one of sorrow and disappointment—the emperor was inflexible. As yet the prisoners had books, and could communicate by letters-their minds were open to a thousand interesting associations, and fraternal sentimentsthey were engaged in the literary works of each other. Caliban, the name they had given the convict who supplied them with such materials for writing as he could procure, and who was the bearer of their letters, exhausted all his ingenuity to give them paper, which was far more precious than food, but he could not supply their wants. Days now passed in which they could not trace a line. The coarse brown paper which they could command rendered every word ineligible. It was to the ingenuity of Maroncelli that they were indebted for the discovery of a way of preparing it, which made it answer the purpose of writing-paper, by soaking it in bread and water, and then rubbing it till it was smooth. This was a great discovery, and most of the prisoners beguiled the long days of summer by some species of composition.

For the first time Andryane beheld Silvio Pellico; and on his knees near him Maroncelli, his companion, beloved so tenderly by Silvio. We pass over the description of the two friends, so graphic and touching. When the service eased, they all returned, in the same order that they went, to their dismal abodes, to chains, and fetters, but they whispered to each other-'A Dimanche, amis-à Dimanche!' Animation and spirit were again restored, and all seemed How delightful was their meeting. Affectionate words, to have received fresh vigor. And what was the cause of observations on the course of reading, even news might be this renovation? Not any new privileges granted; neither river and received during the short walks from the prison wholesome food, a comfortable bed, light and air, nor clothes the church; and all this was a source of thought and con- in which they could move without constraint; neither were versation for the week. They did not allude to their un-their fetters struck off, nor were they permitted the interappy situation; they were yet strong in courage, and could even smile at each other's grotesque figures. "The Sunday was for us," says Andryane, "at this time, what it is for those who suffer and labor-a day of relief, of elaxation from care, from the monotony of a melancholy xistence." Soon, very soon it became a day of religious mpressions-the Lord's-day! and was consecrated to devoon and prayer. The deficiencies of Don Stephano were asily perceived, but they wanted no outward teacher; soli-ness of soul, and intellectual progress." ude and suffering had been their task-masters, and in the The manners of Don Stephano were changed on his relence and desolation of a prison, God had sent his spirit turn from Vienna. The confessions he required them to

comfort them.

VOL. VI-61

change of words among each other; but one of the captives had discovered a way of supplying them with paper on which they could make words legible!-on which they could impress their minds! "If the doors of Spielberg had been thrown open at this time," says Andryane, “it might have been said with certainty, that misfortune, in marking with its noble seal these unfortunate victims to the Italian cause, had launched them into a career of fidelity, of great

make were political instead of religious. They no longer ane that perhaps Schiller's room was to be examined in the had confidence in him.

same way. The idea of the ruin that he should bring opor. The governor, Count Mitrosky, visited the prisoners, and the poor old man if his manuscript was discovered in his informed them that their books were all to be taken from possession was agonizing, and he reproached himself for them. He announced this distressing intelligence with suffering him to incur such a danger. He listened; they feeling and regret; but it was absolute-not even a Bible, were there; and the old man's life, hitherto so tranquil and or any religious book was to be retained. Sad as was this happy, what sorrows were in store for him. After this disblow, the resource of paper was left. Maroncelli was their tressing suspense some one knocked softly at the door. It good angel, for he had made the discovery. Very soon a was Schiller. To the agitated inquiries made, he replied, general league was formed, and every one contributed what "All safe; I have burnt the wicked papers." Andryane's he could to supply the common want. Eloquent and beau-first emotion was joy for his safety; but it was impossible tiful pages were sent forth; harmonious verses full of that he should not feel at what a price his safety had been strength and vigor; questions of science and morals treated purchased. "Oui," he exclaims, "j'etais triste, desespéré with energy and profoundness; all proved that these mar- comme une pauvre mêre, qui ne vivant que pour l'unique tyrs to liberty had not sunk under the ruins. And for what enfant qu'elle a conçu dans la douleur, qu'elle n'a élevé qu'a were these efforts made? Not for fame or glory. It was force des soins et de veilles, se le voit enlever par une, nort the immortal mind seeking its divine source-striving to cruelle, au moment même où, plein de force et de beauté, il save itself from spiritual death. Well might it be said faisait l'espoir et le bonheur de toute sa vie." Fear them that kill the soul," those who seek to destroy and debase the noblest work of God, the spiritual man.

The epitaphs which all composed on the death of Oroboni, (to which we have not alluded,) are a touching tribute to his memory. They could not be preserved. He was the cherished son of an aged father, and fell a victim to the horrors of Spielberg.

Andryane, encourged by his excellent friends, Confalonieri, Pellico, and Maroncelli, determined to accomplish a work of magnitude. For hours he sat writing upon his bed with his neck bent over, and with the fear of being surprised by the sentinels-his words flowed rapidly, and the good Schiller added to his store of paper. At length his ink began to fail. Caliban, who had hitherto supplied him, could procure no more. The little pieces of brick which they pulverized could not be dissolved in water and would not write. Every day his penury increased, and he was obliged to abandon his work. Then a degree of melancholy took possession of his soul. In this state he wrote to Pellico and Maroncelli, and sent them what he had written, expressing the melancholy conviction that he should write

no more.

In two days Caliban delivered him a packet: it contained paper, and a little phial of red liquid, with a letter from Pellico, informing him that the liquid was drawn from his veins! When Andryane had read the admirable letter, he exclaimed, “Miserable indeed am I if I do not see the hand of a gracious and merciful God in the gift of such friends! Base if I do not henceforth consecrate all the powers of my mind and all the affections of my heart to prove that I am worthy of sharing the captivity of Confalonieri, and of writing with the blood of Silvio Pellico!"

He had lost the fruit of so much fatigue-of so many inquietudes; and never had his work appeared to him so worthy of regret as when fire had destroyed every vestige of it.

The restoration of the emperor was celebrated by the ringing of bells-and their hopes were over.

All employment was now taken from the prisoners. It seemed to be the object of the emperor to reduce them to imbecility. The only attempt Andryane made was to inform Pellico of the loss of his manuscript.

Don Stephano, who had been absent, again returned. During his absence he had been made chaplain of the court. His conduct was now decidedly hostile; "and we could not doubt," says Andryane, "but many of our additional restrictions arose from his representations."

Deprived of all occupation, Andryane lost his spirits and courage; and he tells us he should inevitably have sk under his miseries had he been alone. But Confaloniert was with him. He spoke words of encouragement, and said, "When Don Paolonitz is gone, I shall be able to procure books and paper from Schiller." Andryane listened and hoped.

There are events related in these books which we have already found in the memoirs of Pellico, and additions of Maroncelli. The cushion which had supported the head of Theresa, and which was at this time taken from Confalonieri, is there mentioned. They were all fellow-prisoners, and must have been acquainted with many circumstances alike. For this reason we confine ourselves as much as possible to Andryane; of whom we are surprised to find to mention is made in these memoirs.

Disappointed as the unfortunate young man had been in The second departure of Don Stephano was a matter of all his projects, he had yet spirits to attempt another, per congratulation. They were persuaded that their additional haps the most arduous. Schiller had been removed from rigors and deprivations were owing to him. Andryane's them: they saw him no more; but he had left with As work went rapidly on: his whole soul was engaged in it; dryane a small pocket-dictionary in the German language. yet great was his anxiety lest it should be discovered, and This he knew would be taken from him at the next visi involve poor Schiller. News arrived that the emperor was of the police; and he considered it inspiration when at the point of death, and liberty once more seemed possi- thought of writing upon the wall with a nail every word it onble to the captives: but the visits of the directors became tained. The nail he drew from his shoe, and began his ar more frequent; and as only a few pages were wanting to duous work, destroying every leaf as fast as he transcribed the conclusion of Andryane's book, he determined to in- the words. When he arrived at the two last, they were trust it to the faithful old Schiller. He prepared in four zwitzern and zwölf; and seizing on the signification of packets sealed, and when he saw him he requested him to words, he thus interpreted them: "Dans douze ans. ♬ take charge of it. Schiller put it in his cap. It was about bonheur brillera pour moi." Thus does the imaginatist eight when he gave him the manuscript; at nine he found cling to the slightest presage of what it desires. One the inspectors were visiting the prisons. When they came their great privations was the building of a wall before the to Andryane's cell, the directors of the police with the su- lucarne or high window. It took from them the view of th perintendent of Spielberg and six attendants entered. The mountains and faubourgs. Thus one cruelty after another was inspection they endured is too disgusting to dwell upon; exercised. When they requested manual employment, the every part of the bed, and the dress, was examined; and scraping of lint for the hospitals, and knitting of stockag after this ceremony they were desired to undress. When was allotted them. Another still more cruel calamity 77the inspectors had left the prison, the idea struck Andry-mained. Andryane was to be separated from his guardin

angel, Confalonieri. It was in vain to complain; and after
an agonizing farewell to his companion, after tears and
embraces, he followed the commandant. With a feeling of
despair, he found that he was to share the room of S-
a man whose unhappy disposition had rendered Moretti
miserable. Resistance was useless; and added to all he
had suffered, he was now to encounter what in prosperous
eircumstances human nature rebels at-a peevish, suspi-
cious, and unhappy temper.

under all these calamities. So much absorbed was he in his meditations, and in the thoughts of Pascal, that he even gave up his walks rather than interrupt the course of his thoughts. Reclining upon his camp-bed, his eyes half closed, his mind wandering to far distant scenes, and in that happy state which is neither sleeping nor waking, he often spent many hours. He was one day in this oblivion of the frightful reality-the woods of Chantilly, the beautiful views of Provence and Geneva, were before him-he saw again those who had been his guardian angels upon earth. He was roused from this dreamy reverie by the withdrawing of the bolts of the prison. Vexed at being disturbed, he again closed his eyes and pretended to be asleep. A slight noise of chains attracted his attention, and half opening his eyes he beheld a woman, the first he had seen since his arrival at Spielberg. A woman clothed in white, whom, he adds, he might have taken for some pious daughter of a charitable community, if the chains had

It was not long before his companion discovered traits repulsive to his generous mind. His sarcasms, and what was more trying, his severe reflections on Confalonieri, all deeply afflicted him; but Heaven gives us new trials for new exertions. Andryane endeavored to create in the miserable man a better frame of mind. If he failed in this object, no doubt his efforts returned in spiritual blessings on himself. It was his solace to catch the sound of Confalonieri's voice as he took his walk by his cell; and once he heard Maroncelli reciting in a low voice verses to Sil-not revealed the melancholy truth. She was one of those vio. Their cells were then contiguous. He whistled the unfortunate convicts who expiate at Spielberg the crimes favorite air of Pellico. "Continue, Alessandro mio," said committed against the laws of society. He thus describes Maroncelli. It was truly a solace to be able to exchange the scene: "She trembled in perceiving that I observed words; and when Andryane whistled a favorite air, Pel- her, and uttered a faint cry. She had supposed me asleep. lies would reply in a feeble voice, "Alessandro mio, ti rin-She was tall and delicate; her face pleasing, her hair of a grazio, I am better." But this pleasure of conversation light brown and arranged with the utmost neatness; her eyes was interrupted by the fear of discovery by sentinels, and were blue, shaded by long eyelashes, and her whole appearthe ill-humor of S- who complained of cold and dis-ance so prepossessing, that, forgetting she was a convict, 1 tariance. Don Stephano again returned. He had received arose for the purpose of seeing her better, of speaking to the reward of his unworthy services-he was made bishop her, and perhaps taking her hand; when the voices of the of Cattaro in Dalmatia. Soon after the departure of the keepers, echoing through the corridor, made me fear I bishop, S was taken from the cell, and Andryane might be heard and observed, and that they would take left alone. The joy of the prisoner was great at this relief. away the young girl, upon whom I fixed my eyes, full of How much better is solitude than the presence of one in compassion and curiosity. She did not appear to be more whom we feel no confidence. than eighteen, and seemed so modest that all my feelings The unworthy and degrading conduct of Don Stephano-revolted at the idea of her having been capable of committhe hypocrisy of S, who professed piety, while he ting any crime." We would gladly transcribe the whole of suffered his evil passions to be in exercise-with the soli-this interesting scene-her conversation and manners so tude of his situation-probably caused a degree of gloom contrasted with her degraded situation-but we must refer and distrust to arise in the mind of Andryane. He says to the book.

dark thoughts took possession of it. It is not our purpose The sound of voices, and the steps of the keeper are to follow out his impressions. The young priest, the suc-heard: the prisoner throws himself again on his couch, and cessor of Don Stephano, restored him to the mother church, appears to be asleep: the poor young girl resumes her laand to the religious belief of his youth. We confess we do bor, that of scouring the floor of the prison. When the not exactly see the propriety of the young priest's illustra- keeper entered, he was furious against his comrades for tion of the subject of the reformation, by ranking Luther, suffering the convict to enter the cell of the prisoner. He Zuingle, Calvin, and Henry VIII, together. The latter ordered Andryane to follow him, that the girl might finish received from the pope, in consequence of his opposition her task. [We cannot quit this subject without giving a to Luther, the title of "Defender of the Faith," and con- slight sketch of the cause of her imprisonment. She was Loued to the last his bitter enemy. It is true that he re- of a respectable family and well educated, but had been inBounced the Catholic profession when the pope threatened volved by her brothers in signing forged bills, without excommunication; but few even of the pious Catholics can understanding the nature or consequences of her crime.] believe that he was influenced by motives of reform. Had his holiness sanctioned the divorce of Catharine, there is no doubt but he would have remained a "Defender of the Faith."

We rejoice that the unhappy young man recovered peace of conscience; that his heart, which he describes as blasted by the breath of incredulity, reposes on the belief and doctrines which give it peace and serenity. A poem, breathing the spirit of his religion, entitled the Lac, is the fruit of his tranquillity.

Wergrat, one of the under-directors, a few days after, desired Andryane to follow him. This he did, supposing he was to be put into a still more dismal cell. What was his sensations when on entering another cell he found himself in the arms of Confalonieri!

It was happy for him that this re-union took place before he was informed of the death of his father. All the solace of consolation that a tender, enlightened mind could impart, he received from his friend. Suffering, however, was doing its slow but sure work. His mind began to yield to the hopelessness of his situation; and though he still composed verses, he often remained for hours in gloomy inaction and despair, which even prayer and confidence in God could not banish.

The hardship of Andryane's situation was greatly increased. His prison was peculiarly gloomy. His eyes were now much injured, which obliged him to abstain from writing on the wall, which he had been accustomed to do; and the inspection was so strict that he could no longer The contemplated escape of Confalonieri must be omitconverse with Pellico and Maroncelli, nor have any com- ted. His earnest desire to again embrace his beloved munication with Confalonieri. Added to these privations, Theresa-the relinquishment of the project--the amputathe state of his eyes not only occasioned severe pain, but tion of Maroncelli's leg-the sickness of Pellico-the disthreatened total blindness. Yet his renewed devotions tress of Confalonieri at believing that he should never again and intellectual resources supported him for a long time see his wife--Andryane's own affliction at the news of his

father's death-all seem to make a climax of suffering;- -numerous for the usual ceremonies: the bells no longer but a greater impended-his prospect of total blindness, rang, and ecclesiastics were wanting. People died, and unless he could speedily get relief. He demanded with were silently buried; and the whole town seemed plunged earnestness the visit of an oculist, It was at the com- in mourning and consternation. mencement of the year 1830. It was sometime before permission could be gained. In the month of June he was conducted to the oculist, in presence of four physicians, for the examination of his eyes. Their judgment was decisive. "It is a serious case," said the oculist, "and if the captivity of this young man continues there will be no remedy." The oculist recommended to the physicians to make an immediate report to his majesty. All this was expressed in German, of which they concluded the Frenchman to be totally ignorant. His address convinced them to the contrary: "On your report, gentlemen," he said, "depends the loss or preservation of what is dearer to me than my life."

One night they heard a confused noise of chains and voices, and at last groans and cries. It was a convict that they were conveying to the infirmary. The cholera bad entered the prisons. What a horrible reflection, that the poor captives if attacked in the night could obtain no rehef In vain they represented the cruelty of their situations, and implored in case of attack that they might be transported immediately to the hospital. But the governor dared not to take upon himself such a responsibility. One evening after the last visit of the keeper, Confalonieri was seized with violent pains in the stomach. Other alarming symp toms appeared. Andryane endeavored by knocking loudly to obtain succor. At length he made the keepers hear; but they replied that the keys were at the commandant's, and the door could not be opened till five in the morning. We besought of them to procure the keys, and said that before morning Confalonieri would be incapable of aid. "I ca do nothing," said the keeper; "the commandant has forbid our interrupting him." After a night of dreadful suffering, towards morning, the symptoms abated, and the blood began to circulate: the danger was over, and Confalonieri saved from death and cholera.

In this terrible state of suspense he was doomed to continue till the first of August, 1830. They then distinguished the step of the director of police. He had come to give Maroncelli and Pellico liberty. While Andryane rejoiced for thein, it seemed like his own doom. Since the emperor has not comprehended me," he exclaimed, "my fate is decided. It is written in heaven that I shall lose my sight in the prisons of Spielberg." In a moment, however, the recollection of Pellico accustomed to the affectionate cares of Maroncelli--of Maroncelli maimed, of his own One evening the step of the director of police was heard prospect of blindness, came over him. "It is thus," he ex-in the gallery: it approached the door of their cell, which claimed, "that Spielberg surrenders its victims!"

After their departure all remained the same. The pain of his eyes increased, and his health failed. His heart was filled with despair; and when they strove to comfort him, and assured him that without doubt the emperor would take pity on his melancholy situation, he replied-" Je ne vois que trop qu'il en sera de mes yeux, comme de la jambe de Maroncelli; l'ordre viendra d'en avoir soin quand le mal sera sans remède." "I see but too well, that it will be with my eyes as with the leg of Maroncelli: the order will arrive when it is too late."

was thrown open. He came to inform Andryane that his pardon had arrived-he was free!

Alas, what a parting for poor Confalonieri! yet he enbraced Andryane again and again, saying, “I am happy, I am happy."

The sister-the noble sister of the young man, had at last obtained his pardon, on condition that he never again entered the Austrian territory.

The journal of this excellent sister nearly closes the book. The 14th of February, 1831, she received a letter from Silvio Pellico, informing her of the fraternal affection The emperor ordered several more hours of air and exer- that had existed between Alexander and himself, and begcise on the platform for the prisoner Andryane. It was ging her to transmit to him any intelligence she might reseveral days before he derived benefit from this favor. At ceive. This letter was soon followed by a visit from Malength, however, the fine prospects and the mountain air roncelli. The accounts which he gave her of the situation awakened the recollections of his youth, and roused him in of her unhappy brother were overwhelming, and such as some degree from his state of apathy. It is sad to contem-she had never imagined. Her interview with the empe plate him as he is now, and remember him as when first in- ror-for she immediately went to Vienna-at length protroduced to our acquaintance. Well might he quote the cured the pardon she had so long solicited. “Eh bien! words of Milton, that he was but "the dungeon of himself." madame, je cède a vos prieres." We beheld him entering the career of life full of generous and ardent aspirations-willing to sacrifice his days in the cause of liberty-but how are they sacrificed? In the cells of Spielberg! Poor Confalonieri, too-the declining health of Theresa, filled his soul with fatal presentiments-day and night her name was on his lips, and uttered with sobs and groans-"Teresa! povera Teresa!"

The desolation he felt penetrated the heart of his companion, and they struggled in vain against their various sufferings. Both were now seriously ill. Confalonieri was confined to his bed, and Andryane suffered the most distressing attacks from cramp in the stomach. Still one power remained in exercise-that of composing verses. Notwithstanding frequent pains in his head, and other alarming symptoms, he still invoked the muse occasionally, and composed verses which at a later period he was able to recall to his memory.

It was in the year 1831 that a new circumstance came to add to the horrors of their situation. The cholera was striding rapidly towards them. They heard of its ravages at a distance; and at length it reached Brünn. From the platform they could distinguish the funerals that followed each other almost without any interval. They became too

Friday, the 20th of March, 1832, he was restored to her. Nothing had prepared her for the terrible change in his appearance. His form bent, his complexion cadaverouswhat sufferings must he not have experienced to bring him to such a state! "Pauvre soeur," he exclaimed, “apore che toi car ma vue est si faible. Helas, le vent de l'adversité a passé sur tes cheveux et les a blanchi, mais n'es pas aussi changée que je le croyais en pensant à toutes les larmes que je t'ai coûtées." He inquired for Therese Confalonieri. She was an angel in heaven. Her husband's fears were too fatally realized. She had fallen a victim to her sorrow for him. One other inquiry was yet to be made. Lucy? She had died in the south of France, a year after his confinement at Spielberg, of a lingering consumption.

We might almost hesitate in giving this melancholy sketch to the public, were we not able to close it by the cheering information which we receive from Andryane st the conclusion of the book-that God has given him a com panion which makes him every day bless the Divine hand that reserved her for him.

We have concluded our task: nor has it been an easy one, to concentrate, even imperfectly, into a few pages, four octavo volumes. It is proper to mention, that the two