ON the 11th of January, 1822, about nine in the morning, Tremerello came
into my room in no little agitation, and said,
“Do you know, Sir, that in the island of San Michele, a little way from
Venice, there is a prison containing more than a hundred Carbonari.”
“You have told me so a hundred times. Well! what would you have me hear,
speak out; are some of them condemned?”
“Exactly.”
“Who are they?”
“I don’t know.”
“Is my poor friend Maroncelli among them?”
“Ah, Sir, too many . . . I know not who.” And he went away in great
emotion, casting on me a look of compassion.
Shortly after came the jailer, attended by the assistants, and by a man
whom I had never before seen. The latter opened his subject as follows:
“The commission, Sir, has given orders that you come with me!”
“Let us go, then,” I replied; “may I ask who you are?”
“I am jailer of the San Michele prisons, where I am going to take you.”
The jailer of the _Piombi_ delivered to the new governor the money
belonging to me which he had in his hands. I obtained permission to make
some little present to the under jailers; I then put my clothes in order,
put my Bible under my arm, and departed. In descending the immense track
of staircases, Tremerello for a moment took my hand; he pressed it as
much as to say, “Unhappy man! you are lost.”
We came out at a gate which opened upon the lake, and there stood a
gondola with two under jailers belonging to San Michele.
I entered the boat with feelings of the most contradictory nature; regret
at leaving the prison of the _Piombi_, where I had suffered so much, but
where I had become attached to some individuals, and they to me; the
pleasure of beholding once more the sky, the city, and the clear waters,
without the intervention of iron bars. Add to this the recollection of
that joyous gondola, which, in time past, had borne me on the bosom of
that placid lake; the gondolas of the lake of Como, those of Lago
Maggiore, the little barks of the Po, those of the Rodano, and of the
Sonna! Oh, happy vanished years! who, who then so happy in the world as
I?
The son of excellent and affectionate parents, in a rank of life,
perhaps, the happiest for the cultivation of the affections, being
equally removed from riches and from poverty; I had spent my infancy in
the participation of the sweetest domestic ties; had been the object of
the tenderest domestic cares. I had subsequently gone to Lyons, to my
maternal uncle, an elderly man, extremely wealthy, and deserving of all
he possessed; and at his mansion I partook of all the advantages and
delights of elegance and refined society, which gave an indescribable
charm to those youthful days. Thence returning into Italy, under the
parental roof, I at once devoted myself with ardour to study, and the
enjoyment of society; everywhere meeting with distinguished friends and
the most encouraging praise. Monti and Foscolo, although at variance
with each other, were kind to me. I became more attached to the latter,
and this irritable man, who, by his asperities, provoked so many to
quarrel with him, was with me full of gentleness and cordiality. Other
distinguished characters likewise became attached to me, and I returned
all their regard. Neither envy nor calumny had the least influence over
me, or I felt it only from persons who had not the power to injure me.
On the fall of the kingdom of Italy, my father removed to Turin, with the
rest of his family. I had preferred to remain at Milan, where I spent my
time at once so profitably and so happily as made me unwilling to leave
it. Here I had three friends to whom I was greatly attached—D. Pietro
Borsieri, Lodovico di Breme, and the Count Luigi Porro Lambertenghi.
Subsequently I added to them Count Federigo Confalonieri. {19} Becoming
the preceptor of two young sons of Count Porro, I was to them as a
father, and their father acted like a brother to me. His mansion was the
resort not only of society the most refined and cultivated of Italy, but
of numbers of celebrated strangers. It was there I became acquainted
with De Stael, Schlegel, Davis, Byron, Brougham, Hobhouse, and
illustrious travellers from all parts of Europe. How delightful, how
noble an incentive to all that is great and good, is an intercourse with
men of first-rate merit! I was then happy; I would not have exchanged my
lot with a prince; and now, to be hurled, as I had been, from the summit
of all my hopes and projects, into an abyss of wretchedness, and to be
hurried thus from dungeon to dungeon, to perish doubtless either by a
violent death or lingering in chains.