IN my new prison, black and filthy to an extreme, I sadly missed the
society of my little dumb friend. I stood for hours in anxious, weary
mood, at the window which looked over a gallery, on the other side of
which could be seen the extremity of the court-yard, and the window of my
former cell. Who had succeeded me there? I could discern his figure, as
he paced quickly to and fro, apparently in violent agitation. Two or
three days subsequently, I perceived that he had got writing materials,
and remained busied at his little table the whole of the day. At length
I recognised him. He came forth accompanied by his jailer; he was going
to be examined, when I saw he was no other than Melchiorre Gioja. {4} It
went to my heart: “You, too, noble, excellent man, have not escaped!”
Yet he was more fortunate than I. After a few months’ captivity, he
regained his liberty. To behold any really estimable being always does
me good; it affords me pleasant matter for reflection, and for
esteem—both of great advantage. I could have laid down my life to save
such a man from captivity; yet merely to see him was some consolation to
me. After regarding him intently, some time, to ascertain if he were
tranquil or agitated, I offered up a heart-felt prayer for his
deliverance; I felt my spirits revived, a greater flow of ideas, and
greater satisfaction with myself. Such an incident as this has a charm
for utter solitude, of which you can form no idea without experiencing
it. A poor dumb boy had before supplied me with this real enjoyment, and
I now derived it from a distant view of a man of distinguished merit.
Perhaps some one of the jailers had informed him where I was. One
morning, on opening his window, he waved his handkerchief in token of
salutation, and I replied in the same manner. I need not describe the
pleasure I felt; it appeared as if we were no longer separated; and we
discoursed in the silent intercourse of the spirit, which, when every
other medium is cut off, in the least look, gesture, or signal of any
kind, can make itself comprehended and felt.
It was with no small pleasure I anticipated a continuation of this
friendly communication. Day after day, however, went on, and I was never
more gratified by the appearance of the same favourite signals. Yet I
frequently saw my friend at his window; I waved my handkerchief, but in
vain; he answered it no more. I was now informed by our jailers, that
Gioja had been strictly prohibited from exciting my notice, or replying
to it in any manner. Notwithstanding, he still continued to look at me,
and I at him, and in this way, we conversed upon a great variety of
subjects, which helped to keep us alive.