ON the 10th of April we arrived at our place of destination. The city of
Brünn is the capital of Moravia, where the governor of the two provinces
of Moravia and Silesia is accustomed to reside. Situated in a pleasant
valley, it presents a rich and noble aspect. At one time it was a great
manufactory of cloth, but its prosperous days were now passed, and its
population did not exceed thirty thousand.
Contiguous to the walls on the western side rises a mount, and on this is
placed the dreaded fortress of Spielberg, once the royal seat of the
lords of Moravia, and now the most terrific prison under the Austrian
monarchy. It was a well-guarded citadel, but was bombarded and taken by
the French after the celebrated battle of Austerlitz, a village at a
little distance from it. It was not generally repaired, with the
exception of a portion of the outworks, which had been wholly demolished.
Within it are imprisoned some three hundred wretches, for the most part
robbers and assassins, some condemned to the _carcere dare_, others to
that called _durissimo_, the severest of all. This HARD IMPRISONMENT
comprehends compulsory, daily labour, to wear chains on the legs, to
sleep upon bare boards, and to eat the worst imaginable food. The
_durissimo_, or hardest, signifies being chained in a more horrible
manner, one part of the iron being fixed in the wall, united to a hoop
round the body of the prisoner, so as to prevent his moving further than
the board which serves for his couch. We, as state prisoners, were
condemned to the _carcere duro_. The food, however, is the same, though
in the words of the law it is prescribed to be bread and water.
While mounting the acclivity we turned our eyes as if to take a last look
of the world we were leaving, doubting if ever the portals of that living
grave would be again unclosed to us. I was calm, but rage and
indignation consumed my heart. It was in vain I had recourse to
philosophy; it had no arguments to quiet or to support me.
I was in poor health on leaving Venice, and the journey had fatigued me
exceedingly. I had a fever, and felt severe pains, both in my head and
my limbs. Illness increased my irritation, and very probably the last
had an equally ill effect upon my frame.
We were consigned over to the superintendent of Spielberg, and our names
were registered in the same list as that of the robbers. The imperial
commissary shook our hands upon taking leave, and was evidently affected.
“Farewell,” he said, “and let me recommend to you calmness and
submission: for I assure you the least infraction of discipline will be
punished by the governor in the severest manner.”
The consignment being made out, my friend and myself were conducted into
a subterranean gallery, where two dismal-looking dungeons were unlocked,
at a distance from each other. In one of these I was entombed alive, and
poor Maroncelli in the other.