My Ten Years' Imprisonment Part 10

"I am Silvio Pellico," was the reply.

Another older boy now ran to the same window, and cried out, "Are you Silvio Pellico?"

"Yes; and tell me your names, dear boys."

"My name is Antonio S-, and my brother's is Joseph."

He then turned round, and, speaking to some one within, "What else ought I to ask him?" A lady, whom I conjecture to have been their mother, then half concealed, suggested some pretty words to them, which they repeated, and for which I thanked them with all my heart.

These sort of communications were a small matter, yet it required to be cautious how we indulged in them, lest we should attract the notice of the jailer. Morning, noon, and night, they were a source of the greatest consolation; the little boys were constantly in the habit of bidding me good night, before the windows were closed, and the lights brought in, "Good night, Silvio," and often it was repeated by the good lady, in a more subdued voice, "Good night, Silvio, have courage!"

When engaged at their meals they would say, "How we wish we could give you any of this good coffee and milk. Pray remember, the first day they let you out, to come and see us. Mamma and we will give you plenty of good things, {17} and as many kisses as you like."

CHAPTER XLIV.

The month of October brought round one of the most disagreeable anniversaries in my life. I was arrested on the 13th of that month in the preceding year. Other recollections of the same period, also pained me. That day two years, a highly valued and excellent man whom I truly honoured, was drowned in the Ticino. Three years before, a young person, Odoardo Briche, {18} whom I loved as if he had been my own son, had accidentally killed himself with a musket.

Earlier in my youth another severe affliction had befallen me in the same month.

Though not superst.i.tious, the remembrance of so many unhappy occurrences at the same period of the year, inspired a feeling of extreme sorrow. While conversing at the window with the children, and with my fellow prisoners, I a.s.sumed an air of mirth, but hardly had I re-entered my cave than an irresistible feeling of melancholy weighed down every faculty of my mind. In vain I attempted to engage in some literary composition; I was involuntarily impelled to write upon other topics. I thought of my family, and wrote letters after letters, in which I poured forth all my burdened spirit, all I had felt and enjoyed of home, in far happier days, surrounded by brothers, sisters, and friends who had always loved me. The desire of seeing them, and long compulsory separation, led me to speak on a variety of little things, and reveal a thousand thoughts of grat.i.tude and tenderness, which would not otherwise have occurred to my mind.

In the same way I took a review of my former life, diverting my attention by recalling past incidents, and dwelling upon those happier periods now for ever fled. Often, when the picture I had thus drawn, and sat contemplating for hours, suddenly vanished from my sight, and left me conscious only of the fearful present, and more threatening future, the pen fell from my hand; I recoiled with horror; the contrast was more than I could bear. These were terrific moments; I had already felt them, but never with such intense susceptibility as then. It was agony. This I attributed to extreme excitement of the pa.s.sions, occasioned by expressing them in the form of letters, addressed to persons to whom I was so tenderly attached.

I turned to other subjects, I determined to change the form of expressing my ideas, but could not. In whatever way I began, it always ended in a letter teeming with affection and with grief.

"What," I exclaimed, "am I no more master of my own will? Is this strange necessity of doing that which I object to, a distortion of my brain? At first I could have accounted for it; but after being inured to this solitude, reconciled, and supported by religious reflections; how have I become the slave of these blind impulses, these wanderings of heart and mind? let me apply to other matters!"

I then endeavoured to pray; or to weary my attention by hard study of the German. Alas! I commenced and found myself actually engaged in writing a letter!

CHAPTER XLV.

Such a state of mind was a real disease, or I know not if it may be called a kind of somnambulism. Without doubt it was the effect of extreme la.s.situde, occasioned by continual thought and watchfulness.

It gained upon me. I grew feverish and sleepless. I left off coffee, but the disease was not removed. It appeared to me as if I were two persons, one of them eagerly bent upon writing letters, the other upon doing something else. "At least," said I, "you shall write them in German if you do; and we shall learn a little of the language. Methought HE then set to work, and wrote volumes of bad German, and he certainly brought me rapidly forward in the study of it. Towards morning, my mind being wholly exhausted, I fell into a heavy stupor, during which all those most dear to me haunted my dreams. I thought that my father and mother were weeping over me; I heard their lamentations, and suddenly I started out of my sleep sobbing and affrighted. Sometimes, during short, disturbed slumbers, I heard my mother's voice, as if consoling others, with whom she came into my prison, and she addressed me in the most affectionate language upon the duty of resignation, and then, when I was rejoiced to see her courage, and that of others, suddenly she appeared to burst into tears, and all wept. I can convey no idea of the species of agony which I at these times felt.

To escape from this misery, I no longer went to bed. I sat down to read by the light of my lamp, but I could comprehend nothing, and soon I found that I was even unable to think. I next tried to copy something, but still copied something different from what I was writing, always recurring to the subject of my afflictions. If I retired to rest, it was worse; I could lie in no position; I became convulsed, and was constrained to rise. In case I slept, the same visions reappeared, and made me suffer much more than I did by keeping awake. My prayers, too, were feeble and ineffectual; and, at length, I could simply invoke the name of the Deity; of the Being who had a.s.sumed a human form, and was acquainted with grief. I was afraid to sleep; my prayers seemed to bring me no relief; my imagination became excited, and, even when awake, I heard strange noises close to me, sometimes sighs and groans, at others mingled with sounds of stifled laughter. I was never superst.i.tious, but these apparently real and unaccountable sights and sounds led me to doubt, and I then firmly believed that I was the victim of some unknown and malignant beings. Frequently I took my light, and made a search for those mockers and persecutors of my waking and sleeping hours. At last they began to pull me by my clothes, threw my books upon the ground, blew out my lamp, and even, as it seemed, conveyed me into another dungeon. I would then start to my feet, look and examine all round me, and ask myself if I were really mad. The actual world, and that of my imagination, were no longer distinguishable, I knew not whether what I saw and felt was a delusion or truth. In this horrible state I could only repeat one prayer, "My G.o.d, my G.o.d, why hast thou forsaken me?"

CHAPTER XLVI.

One morning early, I threw myself upon my pallet, having first placed my handkerchief, as usual, under my pillow. Shortly after, falling asleep, I suddenly woke, and found myself in a state of suffocation; my persecutors were strangling me, and, on putting my hand to my throat, I actually found my own handkerchief, all knotted, tied round my neck. I could have sworn I had never made those knots; yet I must have done this in my delirium; but as it was then impossible to believe it, I lived in continual expectation of being strangled. The recollection is still horrible. They left me at dawn of day; and, resuming my courage, I no longer felt the least apprehension, and even imagined it would be impossible they should again return. Yet no sooner did the night set in, than I was again haunted by them in all their horrors; being made sensible of their gradual approach by cold s.h.i.+verings, the loss of all power, with a species of fascination which riveted both the eye and the mind. In fact, the more weak and wretched I felt, at night, the greater were my efforts during the day to appear cheerful in conversing with my companions, with the two boys at the palace, and with my jailers.

No one to hear my jokes, would have imagined it possible that I was suffering under the disease I did. I thought to encourage myself by this forced merriment, but the spectral visions which I laughed at by day became fearful realities in the hours of darkness.

Had I dared, I should have pet.i.tioned the commission to change my apartment, but the fear of ridicule, in case I should be asked my reasons, restrained me. No reasonings, no studies, or pursuits, and even no prayers, were longer of avail, and the idea of being wholly abandoned by heaven, took possession of my mind.

All those wicked sophisms against a just Providence, which, while in possession of reason, had appeared to me so vain and impious, now recurred with redoubled power, in the form of irresistible arguments. I struggled mightily against this last and greatest evil I had yet borne, and in the lapse of a few days the temptation fled.

Still I refused to acknowledge the truth and beauty of religion; I quoted the a.s.sertions of the most violent atheists, and those which Julian had so recently dwelt upon: "Religion serves only to enfeeble the mind," was one of these, and I actually presumed that by renouncing my G.o.d I should acquire greater fort.i.tude. Insane idea! I denied G.o.d, yet knew not how to deny those invisible malevolent beings, that appeared to encompa.s.s me, and feast upon my sufferings.

What shall I call this martyrdom? is it enough to say that it was a disease? or was it a divine chastis.e.m.e.nt for my pride, to teach me that without a special illumination I might become as great an unbeliever as Julian, and still more absurd. However this may be, it pleased G.o.d to deliver me from such evil, when I least expected it. One morning, after taking my coffee, I was seized with violent sickness, attended with colic. I imagined that I had been poisoned.

After excessive vomiting, I burst into a strong perspiration and retired to bed. About mid-day I fell asleep, and continued in a quiet slumber till evening. I awoke in great surprise at this unexpected repose, and, thinking I should not sleep again, I got up.

On rising I said, "I shall now have more fort.i.tude to resist my accustomed terrors." But they returned no more. I was in ecstasies; I threw myself upon my knees in the fulness of my heart, and again prayed to my G.o.d in spirit and in truth, beseeching pardon for having denied, during many days, His holy name. It was almost too much for my newly reviving strength, and while even yet upon my knees, supporting my head against a chair, I fell into a profound sleep in that very position.

Some hours afterwards, as I conjectured, I seemed in part to awake, but no sooner had I stretched my weary limbs upon my rude couch than I slept till the dawn of day. The same disposition to somnolency continued through the day, and the next night, I rested as soundly as before. What was the sort of crisis that had thus taken place?

I know not; but I was perfectly restored.

CHAPTER XLVII.

The sickness of the stomach which I had so long laboured under now ceased, the pains of the head also left me, and I felt an extraordinary appet.i.te. My digestion was good, and I gained strength. Wonderful providence! that deprived me of my health to humble my mind, and again restored it when the moment was at hand that I should require it all, that I might not sink under the weight of my sentence.

On the 24th of November, one of our companions, Dr. Foresti, was taken from the Piombi, and transported no one knew whither. The jailer, his wife, and the a.s.sistants, were alike alarmed, and not one of them ventured to throw the least light upon this mysterious affair.

"And why should you persist," said Tremerello, "in wis.h.i.+ng to know, when nothing good is to be heard? I have told you too much--too much already."

"Then what is the use of trying to hide it? I know it too well. He is condemned to death."

"Who? . . . he . . . Doctor Foresti?"

Tremerello hesitated, but the love of gossip was not the least of his virtues.

"Don't say, then," he resumed, "that I am a babbler; I never wished to say a word about these matters; so, remember, it is you who compel me."

"Yes, yes, I do compel you; but courage! tell me every thing you know respecting the poor Doctor?"

"Ah, Sir! they have made him cross the Bridge of Sighs! he lies in the dungeons of the condemned; sentence of death has been announced to him and two others."

"And will it be executed? When? Oh, unhappy man! and what are the others' names?"

"I know no more. The sentences have not been published. It is reported in Venice that they will be commuted. I trust in G.o.d they may, at least, as regards the good Doctor. Do you know, I am as fond of that n.o.ble fellow, pardon the expression, as if he were my own brother."

He seemed moved, and walked away. Imagine the agitation I suffered throughout the whole of that day, and indeed long after, as there were no means of ascertaining anything further respecting the fate of these unfortunate men.

A month elapsed, and at length the sentences connected with the first trial were published. Nine were condemned to death, GRACIOUSLY exchanged for hard imprisonment, some for twenty, and others for fifteen years in the fortress of Spielberg, near the city of Brunn, in Moravia; while those for ten years and under were to be sent to the fortress of Lubiana.

Were we authorised to conclude, from this commutation of sentence in regard to those first condemned, that the parties subject to the second trial would likewise be spared? Was the indulgence to be confined only to the former, on account of their having been arrested previous to the publication of the edicts against secret societies; the full vengeance of the law being reserved for subsequent offenders?

Well, I exclaimed, we shall not long be kept in suspense; I am at least grateful to Heaven for being allowed time to prepare myself in a becoming manner for the final scene.