Atlantic Monthly, Vol. 4, no. 25, November 1859 | Page 7

government at once rid itself
of formidable opponents and assumed the character of merciful
executors of law! It was rumored that the consideration of his youth
saved the life of Foresti;--he was sentenced to twenty years'
imprisonment.
From, the scaffold the prisoners were transferred to the Island of St.
Michael. Their transit was more like an ovation than a disgrace. The
better class of spectators embarked in gondolas and followed the
_cortége_ with shouts of encouragement and waving of handkerchiefs;
"Courage, courage, brave patriots!" was their salutation; and when

night fell upon the scene, there rose from the lagoons strains of
instrumental and vocal melody, and improvised recitations breathing
honor, compassion, and hope; so that in spite of bayonets and police,
terrorism and espionage, the voice of their fettered country wafted to
every captive the assurance that he had not striven and been faithful
unto death in vain.
These scenes in Venice were reenacted, with unimportant modifications,
within a few months, at Rome and Turin, at Modena, Parma, and
Naples. The rolls of victims embraced the most highly endowed and
heroic men of the day. Many of them, after years of incarceration,
distinguished themselves in civil and literary life; some perished
miserably in durance; and a few yet survive and enjoy social
consideration or European fame. Among them were representatives of
every rank, vocation, and section of the land,--noblemen, professors,
military officers, advocates, physicians, priests, men of wealth, of
genius, and of character. Those known in America, either personally or
by their writings, are Count Gonfalonieri of Milan, Silvio Pellico,
Castilla, Borsieri, Maroncelli, and Foresti. The abortive revolutions of
1831 and 1848 sent other refugees to our shores, and canonized other
saintly heroes in the Calendar of Freedom; but these were the original,
and, as a body, the remarkable men, who, imbued with the intelligent
and progressive Liberalism of the nineteenth century, practically
established in Italy by Napoleon, bravely initiated the vital reaction
invoked by humanity as well as patriotism, before which European
despotism has never ceased to tremble, and which, however baffled,
postponed, and misunderstood, by the law of God as well as the
development of man, is absolutely destined to an ultimate triumph.
The show of justice and clemency was made at noonday with every
circumstance of pomp and authority to give it popular effect; the trial
and punishment were enacted in darkness and isolation. On a cold, still
night of January came police commissioners to the island, whither the
condemned patriots had been conveyed amid tears and benedictions,
and chained them in couples like galley-slaves. By the light of torches
they were placed in boats which glided noiselessly by sleeping Venice
to Mestre, and there they were transferred to carriages, two prisoners
and four guards to each vehicle, and in this manner, for four dreary
weeks, borne through the winter days farther and farther from country

and home,--sleeping at night in town-jails, by-way fortresses, or, when
neither were available, in the worst apartments of lonely inns. Who can
adequately describe the wretchedness of that journey, the bitterness of
soul, the prospective desolation, the tender regrets of those unhappy
prisoners,--torn from the embrace of kindred, the dignity and motive of
a high career, the most beautiful of countries, and the most sacred of
ties and duties, to bury their youth, with all its high dreams and noble
fervor and consecrated gifts, in a distant dungeon? Even the strangers
through whose domain they passed testified by looks, signs, respectful
greetings, and, when possible, kind attentions, their sympathy and
esteem; people of rank continued to approach them in disguise merely
to indicate their humane recognition; the very commissioners sent to
attest the execution of the sentence parted from their charge with tearful
respect. Grief, privation, and fatigue, greatly aggravated by the shackles
which bound them in pairs, had exhausted body and mind at the end of
the journey. From the city of Brunn, the capital of Moravia, their wan
looks sought the mountain prison above, where frowned the bastions of
Spielberg, once a mediaeval castle, then a fortress, built by the Emperor
Charles, and, just before the battle of Austerlitz, dismantled by
Napoleon, and now the place of confinement for the most degraded
criminals of Austria, nearly a thousand of whom there expiate their
offences. Into this herd of malefactors were thrust gentlemen, scholars,
citizens, for the crime of patriotism. To each was assigned a cell,
twelve feet in length and eight in breadth, with a small iron-barred
window, a plank with, a mattress and blanket, an iron chair secured to
the wall, and an earthen jug for water. Arrayed in convict uniform, here
the brave youths were immured. Sentinels were continually on guard in
the corridors and court and around the bastions; the food was
inadequate and often loathsome; an hour's