LI B RAFLY 
 
 OF THE 
 
 U N IVERSITY 
 
 Of ILLINOIS 
 
 sas 
 
 V.I
 
 THE CARBONARO 
 
 PIEDMONTESE TALE. 
 
 BY 
 
 THE DUKE DE LEVIS. 
 
 IN TWO VOLUMES. 
 
 VOL. 1. 
 
 LONDON : 
 
 HENRY COLBURN, NEW BURLINGTON STREET. 
 
 1829.
 
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 PREFACE. 
 
 ■^ 
 
 Some seven years ago a strange adventure that 
 took place in the canton of Evreuse, a little town 
 about three leagues from Versailles, excited very 
 general curiosity, and was noticed in the whole of 
 the journals of the day. The affair to which we 
 allude was the delivery of a female under circum- 
 stances of a very mysterious and tragical character ; 
 so much so, that, at the time, they formed the sub- 
 ject of every conversation. Of a couple of twins, 
 one was said to have been murdered, without any 
 plausible motive for the atrocity ever being attri- 
 buted to the unknown perpetrator. Of the fact 
 there could be no doubt : the midwife who attended 
 
 tasovs
 
 IV PREFACE. 
 
 the unhappy mother made her declaration m a 
 
 court of justice, and the court ordered an investi- 
 
 '• *' ■ ■ -I 
 gation ; but whether it was wrong directed, or 
 
 ■ ' -" - ; • a. 
 
 gone about in an improper way, or whether For- 
 tune, as she sometimes does, favoured the crimi- 
 nals, certain it is that no one was arrested ; and 
 thus a veil, which seemed impenetrable, was cast 
 over the crime. 
 
 But there is no secret that the lapse of time 
 reveals not; and, thanks to a very singular concur- 
 rence of circumstances, we have now come to a 
 perfect knowledge of the whole mystery, together 
 with all its extraordinary details. They are inte- 
 resting in more than one point of view. In the 
 first place, the energetic and impassioned character 
 of the persons who played the principal parts gives 
 to these events a peculiarity which differs essen- 
 tially from any thing that we are accustomed to 
 see in our cold clime, where the regulated man- 
 nerism of society, and its monotony of habitudes, 
 afford but a very limited play either for good or 
 for bad qualities. And from these circumstances 
 it also results, that the historian who paints even 
 with ordinary fidelity a picture of nature thus ani-
 
 PREFACE. V 
 
 mated, and of scenes so lively and so striking, is 
 almost certain of attracting the attention of the 
 public, ever greedy of strong sensations. Our only 
 motive, however, in giving publicity to the following 
 recital of adventures is, that by such means we 
 hope to make our countr^^men better acquainted 
 with an epoch which has been too slightly dwelt 
 upon, although it was the most remarkable in every 
 respect that succeeded the restoration. The year 
 1821 was a critical, we might say an alarming, 
 period. Europe, but recently relieved from the 
 most violent shocks, appeared as if ready to enter 
 on a fresh career of revolution ; Spain was in a 
 state of insurrection, and threatened to snatch from 
 her king the enjoyment of those rights for whose 
 integTity she had courageously contended when he 
 was in captivity; the Carbon aro was dominant 
 in Naples and at Turin, where his affiliated bre- 
 thren swarmed ; and in the north, in Prussia, in Po- 
 land, and even in Russia, secret societies, whose 
 objects were no longer limited to the seduction of 
 a few university pupils, were zealously employed 
 in an endeavour to shake the honesty of the guards 
 of monarchy.
 
 VI PREFACE. 
 
 England, whose power and whose immense mm^s 
 of wealth is every year augmenting, was not at 
 that moment in a more peaceful condition than her 
 neighbours, when the starving millions of her arti- 
 sans were goaded to fury by the theories of the 
 radicals. Even the ices of the north did not 
 operate as an absolute check on the general effer- 
 vescence. In the very centre of Scandinavia an 
 ultra-liberal diet, we allude to the Storthing of 
 Norway, made an attempt to abolish hereditary 
 aristocracy, which was defended, strange to tell, by 
 a king sprung from the lowest ranks of the people. 
 
 In the east, again, the Hetairists of the prin- 
 cipalities, the Greeks of Attica and of the Morea, 
 had by a bold and magnanimous effort shaken off 
 the yoke which weighed on their shoulders ; al* 
 though there the fanatical mussulman opposed by his 
 predestinativa dogged ness, which renders him inac- 
 cessible to the impressions of fear, to the enthusiasm 
 inspired by the love of freedom, and the exaltation 
 of mind which glorious recollections impart, an 
 energy of resistance that, after seven years of 
 carnage and of devastation on both sides, has left 
 the issue of that bloody struggle still dubious.
 
 PREFACE* Vii 
 
 In the meanwhile, and this is not the least sin- 
 gularity of so singular a period, he whom Europe 
 had with difficulty contained, was expiating by 
 long and painful suffering the faults of policy and 
 crimes of ambition, of which he had been guilty, 
 in a lonely and insignificant islet, in the midst of 
 scenes far distant from those he had disturbed and 
 distinguished. Struck down, yet still at the head 
 of a formidable party, he sunk under an enemy 
 whom victors and vanquished equally respect ; and 
 the dying throes of this modern Titan shook the 
 civilised world to its base. 
 
 But France is the spot to which our cares princi- 
 pally extend. Is it possible to forget the condition 
 of that country at the period in question — when 
 parties were drawn up for the fight, and merely 
 waited the signal to mingle in deadly strife ; when 
 royal authority tottered on its seat ; when its de- 
 pendants were more occupied with the thoughts of 
 what had been than of what ivas owins; to it ; when 
 the royalists were disunited, and their enemies striv- 
 ing each who should rival his fellow in audacity * 
 when the ministry was weak ; the king dying; the 
 army rather an object of fear than of trust ? If
 
 yin PREFACE. 
 
 the public peace was not actually attacked, at least 
 the public security, that grand tie which connects 
 the various parts of society, no longer existed. In 
 a word, the general uneasiness that agitated all 
 classes of the community could be fairly likened 
 to nothing but that terrible anxiety that is felt by 
 the natives of a country subject to volcanic erup- 
 tions when, after some dreadful convulsion of na- 
 ture, followed by a few days of calm, they again 
 perceive the earth heaving, and the mountains bel- 
 lowing, and when no one can possibly tell whether 
 these are the last effects of a fire that is dying out, 
 or the terrible symptoms of a new conflagration. 
 
 The fatal presages were not indeed realised. 
 The divinity which watches over our country dis- 
 sipated with his powerful breath the storm that 
 seemed accumulating above our heads; and yet, the 
 more to mock the pride of human foresight, he 
 educed a calm out of the midst of those tempests, 
 and converted an element of discord into a means 
 of safety. The war in the Peninsula, which the ene- 
 mies of the Bourbons were the first to invoke, be- 
 cause they imagined that simple contact would 
 mingle in one mass the revolutionary armies of the
 
 PREFACE. ix 
 
 two cpuntri^s, .dispersed the army of Spain, and 
 made i;oyalism the prevailing feature of the army 
 of France. 
 
 These memorable events are recorded in our 
 chronicles; but the events that led to them lie 
 hidden in darkness, and will probably remain so 
 for many a year. Indeed, the mass of memoirs 
 and reminiscences, that desire of gain every day 
 produces, so far from enlightening facts, do but 
 shroud the truth in yet thicker darkness, while the 
 lies and scandal they contain only serve to grieve ^ 
 morality and to make malignity smile. The spirit 
 of party appears through all the envelopes and dis- 
 guises that they assume; and their wish to circulate 
 this or that opinion to excuse this or that personal 
 fault, is every where so obvious, that it inspires a 
 just distrust of all their statements, and makes those 
 doubtful which are best verified. 
 
 The lack of impartiality in ocular witnesses, above 
 all during times of trouble which strongly excite the 
 passions, is an old malady in human nature. It has 
 been with a view to provide against it that writers 
 gifted with talents for observation as v. ell as the 
 power of enchaining attention, have not feared to
 
 X PREFACE. 
 
 summon fiction to the assistance of virtues and in 
 bestowing on their descriptions a dramatic form> 
 their readers not unfrequently find in the imaginary 
 personages that they put forward on the stage 
 a more strict resemblance to the realities of life 
 than in the best drawn pictures of the historian. 
 In order to appreciate the extent of the success thus 
 attained, the mere announcement of which may 
 appear paradoxical, we must remember previous to 
 Corneille how few knew any thing of the heights 
 to which Roman greatness could soar ; and in the 
 present day, has it not been said, and with reason, 
 that there is more truth in one of the novels of 
 Scott than in many histories? 
 
 When we reflect maturely on these facts, we 
 cannot avoid coming to the conclusion, that the 
 form of historic composition is almost a matt«* of 
 indifi:'erence, and that the only thing of real im- 
 portance is its sincerity. By sincerity, we of 
 course mean the desire of making truth triumph, to 
 the exclusion of all notions that are inexact, whe- 
 ther of things or persons ; in a word, a firm reso- 
 lution to give to every one what is fairly due, and 
 no more. But in order to attain this highly
 
 PREFAciB. xi 
 
 honourable end mere rectitude of intention is not 
 sufficient, we must scrupulously watch against all 
 those predilections which the prejudices of birth, 
 the rank we occupy in society, and especially our 
 community of interest with the parties described, 
 are apt to inspire us even without our being con- 
 scious of it. 
 
 It is this virtue of sincerity, a negative one it 
 may be said, but not the less rare on that ac- 
 count, for which, in defect of all others, we claim 
 credit in the pages that we are about to submit to 
 the public, and which form the first part of a his- 
 tory that we may at a future period complete. 
 
 There are certain documents still wanting to 
 complete our work. We await their arrival from 
 Greece: in which country, at Egina, after valiantly 
 serving in the cause of liberty, the unfortunate 
 young man who plays the principal character in 
 the following history- very lately terminated his 
 chequered and unfortunate career.
 
 Just Published. 
 
 SAILORS AND SAINTS, by the Authors of "The Narai 
 Sketch Book," 3 vols. 
 
 T[IE XAVAL OFFICER, in 3 vols, post 8vo. 
 
 TALKS OF MILITARY LIFE, 3 vols, post 8vn. 
 
 THE UNITED SERVICE JOURNAL and Naval and 
 INIiLiTARY Magazine, Nos. 1 and 2, price 2s. 6d. each.
 
 THE CARBONARO. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 The midnight bell had tolled, the lights were 
 extinguished, and the little town of Chevreuse 
 was wrapped in sleep, when a domestic, whose 
 accent spoke him a foreigner, was heard to 
 knock repeatedly at the door of Dame Bon- 
 temps, the midwife, whose aid he had come to 
 solicit for a female that was then in labour, 
 about two leagues from the village. Old 
 Bontemps, the husband of the accoucheuse^ 
 
 VOL. I. A
 
 2 THE CARBONARO. 
 
 pushed up the window of the second floor where 
 
 he lodged — 
 
 " The night is chilly and dark," said he ; 
 
 " my dame has a cold ; go to the doctor, at 
 
 the corner of the square opposite the church." 
 *' He is not at home," answered the voice ; 
 
 " and, besides, it is Dame Bontemps in whom 
 alone we repose confidence. Bid her get up : 
 her labour will be amply rewarded. If she 
 require twenty francs in advance, I have orders 
 to give them to her." 
 
 " I shall open the door immediately," said 
 old Bontemps. Whilst the messenger was 
 being admitted, and was taking some hasty re- 
 freshment, after depositing a napoleon on the 
 chimney-piece of the parlour, the good dame 
 dressed herself for a journey ; and, anticipating 
 a troublesome labour, she took down the green 
 bag that held her professional implements, and
 
 THE CARBONARO. 3 
 
 wrapping herself up in her good man's cloak^ 
 set out with her guide. 
 
 When they had gone on for a hundred yards, 
 they found at the turn of a little street a 
 covered car, the horse of which was tied to the 
 bars of a window. 
 
 " Get in," said the man, " it is my master's 
 market-cart, which he sent, lest you should be 
 fatigued." 
 
 Dame Bontemps placed herself in the seat of 
 the car accordingly. When they were about 
 a musket-shot away from the town, the mes- 
 senger drew hastily a handkerchief from his 
 pocket, and addressing Dame Bontemps, said 
 roughly, — "I have orders to blindfold you: 
 do not attempt to resist ; it is quite use- 
 less." 
 
 Dame Bontemps lacked neither courage nor 
 wit, but she was alone ; it was night, and she
 
 4 THE CARBONARO. 
 
 was at the will of a powerful man. To yield 
 was, therefore, a matter of necessity, and she 
 submitted. Such extraordinary precautions, 
 she thought, betokened nothing good, but she 
 affected to treat them lightly. 
 
 " If you will have a game of blindman's- 
 buff," said she, *' good : but it is a useless pre- 
 caution, for we sort of folks tell no tales ; and, 
 besides, 'tis so dark, that one can hardly see 
 with their eyes open." 
 
 ** It matters not," said the guide, binding the 
 handkerchief firmly round her head, *^ it is my 
 orders." After a minute or two of silence, he 
 added, — " You have no cause for alarm. Dame 
 Bontemps, my master is generous, and you will 
 be well paid; but he is a devil of a fellow, 
 and will be obeyed, let him order what he will. 
 His anger is terrible, and no one ever with- 
 stood it with impunity."
 
 THE CARBONARO. iy 
 
 During this conversation, which was but little 
 calculated to give her confidence, the good 
 dame perceived, by the jolting of the car, that 
 they had quitted the high way to Versailles, 
 and betaken them to some cross-road ; and she 
 was aware, from the rubbing of the branches 
 on the top of the vehicle, that they were tra- 
 versing a wood. At length they stopped ; and 
 the barking of a couple of dogs told that they 
 w^ere clos^ to some country-seat, or farm-house. 
 The driver alighted, pushed up the great gate 
 which he had left ajar when he set out, and 
 drove forward the car into a large yard. He 
 then assisted Dame Bontemps to alight from 
 the car, but without allowing the batideau to 
 be removed from her eyes, until she was fairly 
 in the inside of the building. The room into 
 which she was thus introduced was a sort of 
 barn, with an arched roof, one half of it filled
 
 6 THE CARBONARO. 
 
 with wheat in the sheaf. At the end of the 
 empty portion, and behind a garden mat, stood 
 a stump- bed — a couch for misery to stretch itself 
 on — on which lay a young female, whose long 
 dishevelled tresses trailed on the floor, and who 
 was so worn out and exhausted with distress of 
 every kind, that she had no longer strength to 
 complain, but only spoke her anguish in low 
 groans. A few rude seats, a table of walnut- 
 tree very much the worse for wear, a sorry 
 pallet that leaned against one of the pillars 
 which supported the gothic roof, composed the 
 whole furniture of a place that up to that time 
 no human being had ever inhabited. The 
 flickering light of a lamp, placed on a pedestal 
 from which the statue had fallen, dimly lighted 
 up the scene of desolation. Near the bed, upon 
 a low stool, a man was seated, whose features 
 were half concealed by the broad brim of a
 
 THE CARBONARO. 7 
 
 bat that was pulled over his eyes, and whose 
 stature and garments were hidden by the folds 
 of a Spanish cloak, in which he was enveloped. 
 When the midwife entered, he arose and said, 
 with a severe tone, *' You have been long in 
 coming ; if you had arrived sooner, you might 
 perhaps have saved the life of this infant that 
 has just come into the world, and which is now 
 dead." While speaking thus, he showed her 
 a new-born babe, that lay stretched out at his 
 feet on a heap of linen. 
 
 Dame Bontemps approached, in order to con- 
 sider it more narrowly; and stooping down, 
 " It gives no signs of life," said she, *' yet we 
 may try — " 
 
 *' I tell you," interrupted the unknown, " that 
 it is dead." 
 
 There was in the tones of the man, in his 
 looks, and in the gesture with which his words
 
 8 THE CARBONARO. 
 
 were accompanied, something imperious and 
 sinistrous, that made Dame Bontemps shiver 
 with terror. 
 
 *' In good truth," answered she hastily and 
 fearfully — an answer which she afterwards re- 
 gretted — '* it gives no signs of life." 
 
 "You hear, madam," said the unknown, ad- 
 dressing the unhappy mother, " the midwife 
 declares that the child is dead." He imme- 
 diately stooped down, wrapped up the infant in 
 a cloth, and, after saying a few words in a 
 strange tongue, handed the body to the servant, 
 and then walked out along with him. 
 
 Dame Bontemps, now left alone with the 
 travailing woman, approached the bed, in order 
 to render her such services as her case required. 
 She had no sooner done so, than she was aware 
 of a second infant that was about to be brought 
 forth; and scarcely was it born, when the effort
 
 THE CARBONARO. V 
 
 of nature that accompanied its birth restored 
 the use of her senses to the mother, of which 
 she had to that moment remained apparently 
 deprived. She opened her eyes, and, meeting* 
 the compassionate glance of the midwife, with 
 a tone of despair addressed her — 
 
 ** For Heaven's sake, take pity on this un 
 happy infant! save this one at least, I conjure 
 you, if Heaven permit it ; the good deed will 
 not g-o unrewarded." 
 
 Dame Bon temps, who was as kind as she 
 was courageous, promised to do all that was in 
 her power, but, at the first blush, no expedient 
 presented itself to her mind. So pressing a 
 necessity, however, soon set her wits to work ; 
 and on a sudden, and as if by inspiration, she 
 bethought her of the bag that contained her 
 instruments. She immediately drew them out, 
 and concealed them at the end of the barn
 
 10 THE CARBONARO. 
 
 between two sheaves of corn : she then took the 
 child from its mother, who gave it to her with 
 her blessing. " Dear little one," said she, 
 '* may that God, in whom I trust, preserve to 
 thee the life which he has given!" Dame 
 Bontemps speedily wrapped up her charge in 
 her apron, and stowed it in the best way she 
 could in the 'bag, in which she was careful to 
 leave an opening for its breathing. 
 
 *' Trust to me," said she, in a tone which 
 gave consolation to the heart of its mother ; *' I 
 will no more abandon it, than if it were my own 
 son ; but if it cry, we are undone !" 
 
 In a short time the dreaded moment arrived ; 
 the scowling-looking stranger returned. Col- 
 lecting all the courage she could. Dame Bon- 
 temps, with an air of calmness, said — 
 
 *' My presence here is no longer necessary ; 
 the women of the house can render the lady
 
 THE CARBONARO. 11 
 
 any ordinary services, and there has been no 
 accident in the case. For my part, I am im- 
 patiently expected at Chevreuse : will you re- 
 conduct me thither ?" 
 
 *' That is but just. Take these forty francs, 
 and set out ; don't attempt to pierce into my 
 secret ; 'tis as much as your head is worth." 
 
 The midwife took the money, thanked the 
 giver, and went a step or two towards the door, 
 then hastily returned to take her bag, which 
 she feigned to have forgotten, squeezed af- 
 fectionately the hand of her patient, under the 
 pretence of feeling her pulse, and bidding her 
 be of good cheer, departed. The car was 
 ready to receive her; and scarcely had she 
 taken her place, when the servant again tied 
 the handkerchief round her head ; a precaution 
 that was indeed more excusable than before, 
 as the day was now about to break. When
 
 12 THE CARBONARO. 
 
 they set out, Dame Bontemps thought she 
 could perceive that, in quitting the house, they 
 did not take the same road that they had in 
 coming to it ; and she was strengthened in this 
 opinion from feeling, by the motion of the car, 
 that they were descending a steep hill, which 
 must have retarded the pace of the horse, if 
 they had had to climb it, in their previous 
 drive. She could perceive also, from the rust- 
 ling of the dry leaves in the wind, that they 
 were travelling in a wood. The desire of 
 discovering some clue to the case of the un- 
 happy woman, whom she had just left in so 
 lamentable a condition, forcibly directed her 
 attention to these particulars ; and she was en- 
 deavouring to imprint on her memory whatever 
 might assist her in her ulterior researches, 
 when a report of a gun fired at a short distance 
 made her start in alarm.
 
 THE CARBONARO. 13 
 
 *' 'Tis robbers," said she in a subdued \oice, 
 and pressing close to her driver. 
 
 ** It is some poachers rather," replied he; 
 " but we are now at our journey's end ; get 
 down, and, on your life, stir not from this spot 
 for a quarter of an hour hence." So saying, 
 he placed her at the foot of an oak ; and having 
 done so, turned his horse's head, and drove 
 rapidly off. 
 
 The first care of the midwife was to open the 
 bag, in which she found with joy the infant 
 living and breathing, but extremely weak. 
 While she was warming it in her bosom, a hound 
 pushed through the brushwood, and halting 
 some ten paces from her, began to bark : the 
 noise speedily brought forward its master, who, 
 imagining that he had lighted on a poacher, 
 exclaimed, " Give up your arms, you thief, or 
 I'll blow vour brains out !"
 
 14 THE CARBONARO. 
 
 " Don't fire !" cried the frightened dame in 
 her turn, '^ I am a woman." 
 
 " Ah, that alters the case," said the game- 
 keeper with a softened voice ; " but what are 
 you doing here at this untimely hour ? — cutting 
 wood, I suppose, or plundering the warren. 
 The duke does not do enough for the poor, 
 mayhap, they must rob him too ! These rascally 
 peasants, 'tis always their way, the more you 
 favour 'em — " 
 
 "You are wrong now, Lafrance," said Dame 
 Bontemps, who, from his voice, recognised in 
 the man a keeper whose wife she had delivered, 
 at Chevreuse, the preceding year: " I have 
 lost my way ; you must assist me in finding it 
 again. Are we far from the town ?" 
 
 " Ah ! what ! it is you. Dame Bontemps ! 
 You are a good half league from home; but 
 tell us by what mishap are you here ?"
 
 'iHE CARBONARO. 15 
 
 " I shall tell you that some other day. I 
 have a baby here that requires succour. Guide 
 me out of the wood." 
 
 ** Most cheerfully : you midwife folks, you 
 are always in a mystery ; but come, lean on my 
 arm, you appear fatigued." In a short time 
 they reached the road from Dampierre to 
 Chevreuse, that runs along' the river Y vette : 
 the morning was now getting light, and they 
 met some country people going to market. 
 Them Dame Bontemps joined ; and the keeper, 
 perceiving that she had no more need of him, 
 quitted her, in order to finish his rounds.
 
 16 THE CARBONARO 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 It was about six o'clock in the morning 
 when Dame Bontemps got back to Chevreuse. 
 Her husband, who perceived that she was 
 overcome with fatigue, and extremely agitated, 
 was anxious to learn the cause of her uneasi- 
 ness, but she was not in a condition to satisfy 
 him : after a few minutes' rest, however, she 
 recovered, and narrated to him, in all their 
 details, the events of the night. 
 
 Bontemps was one of those characters which
 
 THE CARBONARO. 17 
 
 are but too rife in the world. His natural dis- 
 position was not bad ; and his first thoughts 
 generally inclined him to the side of genero- 
 sity: but his cupidity never failed to gain the 
 mastery ; and, when his interest and his bene- 
 volence were unhappily opposed to each other, 
 the struggle was seldom a long one. On the 
 occasion in question, he pitied very sincerely 
 the fate of the unfortunate mother and outcast 
 child ; but, in a short time, the dread of the 
 expense cooled these kindly sentiments ; and 
 he asked, with an air of embarrassment, what 
 Dame Bontemps meant to do with the latter. 
 
 " I am determined to take care of it, as if it 
 were my own : — have I not promised as much ?" 
 
 " But did you consider well the difficulties 
 that this may bring us into? Who is to pay 
 for the nurse ? Not a parcel of unknown per- 
 sons, that you will never see in your days again.
 
 18 THE CARBONARO. 
 
 You have left your instruments behind, too; 
 and they are worth almost as much as all the 
 money you have got. Come, if you will follow 
 my advice, send the child to the Foundling. 
 You have risked your life to save his ; is not 
 that enough ? As to the circumstances attend- 
 ing his birth, the most prudent way is to say 
 nothing about them." 
 
 " I will not follow your advice," replied the 
 midwife in a firm tone. " In the first place, 
 humanity cries out against it. Ought I not 
 to try, in conscience, to rescue this unhappy 
 woman from the hands of her oppressor 1 And 
 how can I do that if I do not make known to 
 the officers of justice what I have seen? Be- 
 sides, I should compromise my own safety. 
 Suppose me, for a moment, to be silly enough 
 to hold my tongue ; is it not obvious that, were 
 it discovered that I had a knowledge of this
 
 THE CARBONARO. 19 
 
 crime (and nothing can be concealed for ever), 
 it would be a just ground of reproach against 
 me ? Yes, the very least that could happen, in 
 that case, would be the loss of my certificate." 
 This last consideration affected Bontemps more 
 sensibly than the moral part of his wife's argu- 
 ment. He was a lazy subject, and carried on, 
 after a very indifferent fashion, a small trade, 
 whose profits were next to nothing. It was 
 his wife, by her activity and intelligence and 
 practice, which extended over the whole of the 
 district, that furnished means for the support 
 of their household. Alarmed, therefore, at the 
 bare idea of her business* being interdicted, he 
 not only no longer persisted in his first advice, 
 but he even proposed to go along with her to 
 the judge's house, for the purpose of lodging 
 an information. 
 
 M. Dupuy, the district magistrate of Che-
 
 20 THE CARBONARO. 
 
 vreuse, owed his place to the influence of the 
 deceased Duke of Luynes, whose attorney he 
 had been at the time when lords of the manor 
 enjoyed, on their own lands, the privilege of 
 judging both in great and small causes. Honest, 
 and even disinterested, he was yet accused of 
 harshness in his manners and severity in his 
 judgments. Distrustful and suspicious from 
 his natural disposition, the crimes of the Revo- 
 lution, of which he had narrowly escaped being 
 the victim, had soured his temper. In his eyes 
 all men were rogues ; and, when a crime was 
 committed in his district, he hunted out the 
 authors of it with an activity in which passion 
 too largely mingled. In a word, if it must 
 be said, he felt a secret pleasure in punishing 
 culprits ; a race which, according to him, with 
 a very few exceptions, filled the whole of the 
 world. It was easy to perceive that it was not
 
 THE CARBONARO. 21 
 
 without repugnance he submitted to the new 
 institutions ; that he sincerely regretted the 
 ancient regime, and more especially the judi- 
 ciary part of it. He would cheerfully uncover, 
 while but mentioning the parliament of Paris ; 
 but as for juries, they were his abhorrence. 
 To finish his picture, his talents were small, 
 and his knowledge limited. 
 
 M. Dupuy listened to the recital of Dame 
 Bontemps with the most lively attention. "This 
 is a terrible business," said he; ** first, murder 
 presumptive of the infant, and that is not the 
 whole of it ; there is every reason to believe 
 that the female had been run away with ; and 
 thence came rape, murder, God knows what ! 
 One thing is evident, the wretch has accom- 
 plices ; there is the servant that drove the 
 car — but what say I ? the whole house must be
 
 22 THE CARBONARO. 
 
 a rendezvous of robbers. We must seize every 
 soul of them. Ho ! call the lieutenant of the 
 police ; his whole party will not be too many 
 for our purpose." 
 
 ** But," said Dame Bontemps, ** how are we 
 to go about finding them out V 
 
 The magistrate, hurried on by the zeal with 
 which he entered on all judicial investigations, 
 had not yet asked himself this very simple ques- 
 tion; and it appeared to pose him. After a 
 moment's hesitation, however, he answered, 
 " Dame, you shall be our guide." 
 
 *'I! you forget, M. Dupuy, that my eyes 
 were blinded ail the time of the ride. I was 
 not allowed to look up, until I got to the wood 
 of Dampierre, where I met with the keeper of 
 the chateau." 
 
 " No matter ! Those who bring a charge
 
 THE CARBON A RO. 23 
 
 must furnish the means of prosecuting it to 
 conviction ; if they do not, I must tell you they 
 will be liable to suspicion themselves." 
 
 " My duty was to tell all I knew, and I have 
 fulfilled it; it is the business of the police to 
 make the necessary search; with that I have no 
 concern." 
 
 " You are a party to the process, and I shall 
 keep you to it." 
 
 " All that I can do is to identify the 
 criminals when they are confronted with me ; 
 and assuredly I shall do so, without allowing 
 myself to be brow-beaten." 
 
 At this point the arrival of the lieutenant of 
 police suspended the dispute, which was begin- 
 ning to be a warm one. M. de Sainville was a 
 retired officer of the army of Conde, a man of 
 pure honour, of extreme delicacy, and of un- 
 questioned bravery. To these qualities he
 
 24 THE CARBONARO. 
 
 joined an intellect remarkable at once for 
 subtlety and solidity. Ever on horseback, and 
 as well acquainted with the surface of the 
 country as an habitual hunter (hunting had 
 indeed been the passion of his youth), he was 
 the protector of the weak, and the terror of 
 the robber. M. Dupuy prized his talents and 
 revered his probity ; and, in every matter of 
 difficulty, he sought his counsel, and relied 
 upon it. 
 
 . As soon as the lieutenant appeared, ** You 
 are come quite opportunely, M. de Sainville," 
 said he to him, " to prevail on Dame Bontemps 
 to conduct us to a spot where she witnessed the 
 perpetration of some most criminal acts. They 
 are no less delicts than murder and ravishment . 
 that we are discussing." ^ 
 
 " I would with all my heart," interrupted 
 the midwife briskly, " if it were in my power ^
 
 THE CARBONARO. 25 
 
 but how can I know any thing of roads over 
 which I travelled blindfold ?" 
 
 The lieutenant observed, that this difficulty, 
 though great, was not insurmountable, and, 
 that by collecting all the marks, and attending 
 to the different circumstances, and, lastly, by 
 calculating the time spent in the journey, they 
 might succeed, if not in supplying that infor- 
 mation which Dame Bontemps could not give, 
 at least in greatly facilitating the measures that 
 justice might require. 
 
 " Well, well, then," cried the judge, ** put 
 the questions yourself : as for me, I have been 
 too long from school." 
 
 Sainville at first declined the taskj but at last 
 he yielded. The questions and answers, of 
 which a note was taken, were as fottow : 
 
 " At what hour did you set out from Che- 
 vreuse ?" 
 
 VOL. I. B
 
 26 T^E CARBON A RO. 
 
 "It mig-lit be half-past twcive, perhaps a 
 little more." *= uw/ oij'? i^aoi h^jh ^ra^i 
 " How did yoii le^f 6 tlm t©\f?» ?^nrrf) I ^= 
 *' By the gate that leads to Versaiilesi*J'rB«p 
 ** Did the car that conveyed you go atffe 
 quickpace?" ci^noi^,. 3uu nun i^-- ^:>»jd 
 «« The horse trotted white on We high-road, 
 but, when he came to the cross-road, he walked." 
 " How long were you on the high-road?" 
 " About half an hour." ^t-^w u- 
 
 " To which hand did you turn when you 
 quitted it?" ^-^^ ^^^^ 
 
 " I think I am certain that we turned to the 
 Igf^ » pa J ,ijUh ^001 no 10 
 
 ** At what o'clock did you arrive at -the 
 farm?" •( lic^Luw oi aoiiiiq 
 
 *' That I cannot possibly tell."t»wt asdi diom 
 -6^ You recollect, at least, how iong you re- 
 mained there ?" • ^^^^ ^^H ^^ ^^'^^^''^ l^^
 
 TMK CARBON ARO. 27 
 
 *' Nearly an hour — perhaps a little less." 
 '* And how loog were you in returning?" 
 " I think it must have been about three 
 quarters of an hour from the time I left the 
 house, until I fell in with the keeper. I came 
 back with him but slowly, because I was 
 fatigued. We were a good hour .qa, the road." 
 • b** And you got home when T* .-j^j as^ ■ 
 ** At half-past five o'clock." — ? - 
 " You were absent then altogether five hours, 
 during one of which you rested. There remain 
 two to go and two to come back ; now you went 
 better than half of the way at a walking pace, 
 or on foot, and, unquestionably, you did not go 
 straight forward; hence I conclude that the 
 place to which you were conveyed was not 
 more than two leagues distant in a straight line. 
 Now tell me, do. you think you pas^d through 
 any villages in your route ?" , ^^^^ ^^^^^^^
 
 28 THE CARBONARO. 
 
 "I do not believe I did ; for the dogs would 
 have barked as they did at the farm." 
 
 " Can you describe to us the building into 
 which you were received ?" 
 
 " I have already told M. Dupuy that it was 
 a barn ; but there was this peculiarity in it, that 
 one could not see the tiles; the roof Avas arched 
 in the old fashion, like the choir of our church 
 of Chevreuse." •• 
 
 The officer of police was about to continue 
 his interrogation, when the magistrate, rising 
 up suddenly, drew him aside into an adjoining 
 room, telling Dame Bontemps, drily, to wait 
 the while. When he was alone with the lieu- 
 tenant, he began to communicate his suspicions. 
 
 *' Don't you perceive," said he, *•' that this 
 midnight journey, this bandage over her eyes, 
 and all the rest of the romantic circumstanees, 
 are mere fables, invented for the purpose of
 
 THE CARBONARO. 29 
 
 putting justice on a false scent I I could bet 
 that this mysterious childbirth took place iu 
 the town of Chevreuse ; and that it is from a 
 hope of screening the criminals, who are perhaps 
 her acquaintances, or who have paid her highly, 
 that this midwife gives us indications that will 
 lead to no discovery. But I won't allow a ma- 
 gistrate like myself to be sported with in such 
 a fashion. I am determined to send her to the 
 king's procureuVy who will, unquestionably, 
 imprison her until she tell the truth, and until 
 the whole business be cleared up." 
 
 Sainville replied, that he did not agree in 
 opinion with the magistrate, and that the re- 
 sponses of Dame Bontemps appeared to him 
 stamped with the impression of truth. " Be- 
 sides," he added, '' she is a respectable woman, 
 and. generally esteemed. I shall not say that, 
 in»«r.^^, to cover the failing of, j^ imprudent
 
 so THE CARBONARO. 
 
 girl, she might not stretch a point4(" -htitrflo 
 fabricate crimes such as these, or to turn aside 
 justice from the guilty, I cannot believe her 
 capable of that. I know some particulars in 
 her character that repel such an imputation." 
 
 *' All these may be mere hypocrisy ; and one 
 thing is certain — the cescription of the barn, 
 where she lays the scene of this adventure, has 
 the elements of falsehood in it. The gothic 
 vault can only apply to some old church. Now 
 it is a fact, that in all the district of Chevreuse 
 not a single edifice consecrated to religious 
 worship was ever sold at a revolutionary sale : 
 this the director of the domains of Versailles 
 told me but the other day. There is proof 
 positive." 
 
 The lieutenant was paying less attention to the 
 termination of this discourse than to a large 
 map of the department of the Seine and Oise
 
 THE CARBONARO. 3^ 
 
 that hung suspended against the wall over the 
 chimney. Instead of replying to it, he pulled 
 from a pocket-book, which he never went with- 
 out, a small pair of silver compasses and a 
 black-lead pencil, with which he traced lightly 
 on the map a square, whose base on the south 
 followed the course of the Yvette from Che- 
 vreuse as far as Dampierre. The Versailles 
 road, for the length of two leagues, formed the 
 east side of the square ; the north side, which 
 was parallel to the river, extended the same dis- 
 tance in the direction of Mesnil ; and the re- 
 maining side, passing through the wood of Levy, 
 joined the base at the spot where Dame Bon- 
 temps had stated that she met the keeper. 
 
 " It is within this small square," said Sain- 
 ville, " that we are to find the spot indicated : 
 if I find it not there, I shall think as you do, 
 that the information lodged is an imposition."
 
 3S THE CARBGNARb. 
 
 After two or three moments of attentive exa- 
 mination, he suddenly exclaimed — " I have it ; 
 I know the very place where these matters 
 took place ; it was at * Our Lady of the Rock/ 
 It is a lonely farm, or barn rather :^yes, just 
 here, under the point of my compasses. The 
 duration of the journey, the direction, all the 
 information we have received, correspond ex- 
 actly to the indications: and, what will sur- 
 prise you a good deal, the gothic architecture 
 which awakened your suspicions, is, on the 
 contrary, proof incontestable of the midwife's 
 veracity. Last year, while passing by chance 
 that way, I had the curiosity to examine in 
 what condition the church of the old monastery, 
 which was suppressed long before the revolu- 
 tion, might be, and I then learned that it was 
 used as a barn." > odW ^ 
 
 " Victory !" replied M. Dupuy, overjoyed
 
 THE CARBONARO. 33 
 
 at discovering the clue to the brigands, which 
 he thought absolutely lost ; " you are right to 
 l^^yery T. I cannot conceive how it did not 
 occur to my recollection, for I know * Our 
 Lady of the E^ck* well ; and I have seen be- 
 fore now the tombs of the old chevaliers with 
 the three chevrons that are there." 
 
 With these words he hurried out to Dame 
 Bontemps, and addressing her in a low tone, 
 which he endeavoured to render severe, he 
 said — 
 
 " You persist then in your refusal ? you will 
 not act as our guide T' 
 
 " You ask impossibilities of me." 
 
 " Well, weU, we can dispense with your as- 
 sistance. The spot to which you were con- 
 ducted is known." 
 
 " Whofouud it out?" 
 /^ You must know, Dame Bontemps," said
 
 34 THE CARBON ARD, 
 
 the judge, with an air of importanee, ** that 
 Justice has sharp eyes as well as long arms. 
 To me the slightest indications are sufficient 
 to enable me to discover secrets the most pro- 
 foundly hidden. But it is to no purpose that 
 I render important services to society, no one 
 thanks me fot them ; while places of judges and 
 of counsellor-auditors are thrown away upon 
 people who are not fit to put the seals to their 
 own patents. Interest and intrigue, Dame Bon- 
 temps — interest and intrigue are now, as they 
 have always been, the only means of getting on 
 in the world." 
 
 During this diatribe, which was pronounced 
 with an emphasis that completed the absurdity 
 of it— for poor M. Dupuy, the district judge 
 of Chevreuse, occupied the only situation to 
 which he had the slightest pretensions — ^the 
 lieutenant addressed his officer, and ordered
 
 THE CARBONARO. ^ 
 
 hiiii to send him a couple of gendarmes dis- 
 gTiised. Even while writing the order, he 
 could not help smiling at the praises, so slen- 
 derly merited, that M. Dupuy gave to himself 
 for his pretended sagacity. He might, with- 
 out impropriety, have repressed a display of 
 vanity that savoured of impudence; but he 
 thought, and justly, that it was best to be in- 
 dulgent, and to use gentle language, when 
 treating a weakness so very general, that no 
 man, when he makes a sincere return of his own 
 character, can declare himself wholly exempt 
 from its influence. In the mean time, the ma- 
 gistrate dismissed Dame Bontemps, telling her 
 to return next morning, at five o'clock, in 
 •^order to accompany him to the ancient abbey 
 of " Our Lady of the Rock." *' I shall take my 
 clerk with me," said he, " for we must draw 
 up a state of the case ; and, by squeezing close,
 
 9ft THE CARBONAHa. 
 
 we sball all find room in my cabriolet. As to 
 the lieutenant, he will escort us on horseback ; 
 and undoubtedly he will take such measures 
 as may ensure a complete capture of the rogues. 
 Not a man must escape from justice." 
 
 edt flo G£d
 
 THE CARBONARO. 37 
 
 ^.tod no 811 tic^io lU^ f)- 
 m Aop^ 9K 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 Next morning, at break of day, Dame 
 Bontemps, punctual to her appointment, ap- 
 peared at the mansion of the judge. The 
 clerk, a little short fat man, had got thither 
 before her ; and M. Dupuy, having mounted the 
 two in the cabriolet, the seat of which they 
 filled, placed himself in the middle, resting 
 rather on the knees of his fellow-travellers 
 than on the cushion of the vehicle. The lieu-
 
 98 THE CARBONARO. 
 
 tenant had set out before, and waited for the 
 party in the outskirts of the town. It was at 
 first arranged that they should follow the road 
 to Versailles, that they might turn off to the 
 left where the car had turned ; but on a little 
 reflection they determined, as there remained 
 no doubt about the identity of the place where 
 the examination was to take place, that it 
 would be much the best plan to go thither 
 directly. Following this new arrangement, the 
 judge and his fellow-travellers drove along the 
 bank of the Yvette, until they got beyond 
 the great park of Dampierre ; and leaving on 
 the right the road that leads to Voisin-le- 
 BretonneuXf they gained by a bridle road the 
 wood of Levy. Previous to entering the wotod, 
 the ruins of the chateau that bears the same 
 name were seen in the distance towards. the 
 south-east, and M. Dupuy could not let. slip so
 
 THE CARBON ARO. 39 
 
 excellent an opportunity of making a display of 
 his local knowledge. 
 
 ** You see," he began, •* those towers and 
 walls, now half in ruins ? That old manor-house, 
 some six hundred years ago, was the baronial 
 residence of the lords of this wealthy valley, 
 and their lands extended as far as the domains 
 of the famous Simon de Montfort. Guy de 
 Levis, who had married De Montfort's daugh- 
 ter, went the crusade against the Albigenses 
 with him ; but before he set out, he was anxious, 
 from a regard to his native province, to found a 
 monastery that might serve as a burying-place 
 for the knights of his family. His intentions 
 were religiously fulfilled by his descendants ; 
 and during many generations their dead were 
 carried from the heart of Languedoc to ' Our 
 Lady of the Rock :' we shall soon see the 
 shapeless remains of their tombs, which the
 
 40 THE CARBONARO. 
 
 Marquis de Levis got repaired but a short 
 time before the revolution." 
 
 *'What!" said the vrondering clerk, *' are 
 we going to * Our Lady of the Rock,' then ? 
 that ancient church, where all the country, for 
 thirty leagues round about, went as pilgrims 1" 
 
 '* Yes, it was there that Dame Bontemps 
 was conducted the night before last ; and it was 
 there that she witnessed matters which now 
 call for most serious attention on the part 
 of the magistrate." — *' That spot," said the 
 clerk, with an air of importance which he but 
 rarely assumed, ** is, it appears, destined to 
 be the theatre of the strangest scenes ! — I shall 
 tell your worship what I saw there during the 
 reign of terror. You were not at that time at 
 Ghevreuse ; the rascals had you in the prison 
 then, to which you now-a-days are in the habit 
 of sending others ; and as to you, Dame Bon- 
 
 .^ *ic^a..
 
 THE CARBONARO. 41 
 
 temps, you were but a very little body. I was 
 then a meraber of the district guard, and so 
 I was under the orders of the revolutionary 
 committee that governed Chevreuse. Now it 
 happened that one Gracchus Dubois thought 
 fit to denounce * Our good Lady of the Rock' as 
 an aristocrat, for taking upon her, he said, to 
 work miracles, without permission from the con- 
 stituted authorities. The president immediately 
 made the patriotic motion to cast down an 
 image which insulted the faithful citizens in 
 such a way ; and a decree was passed conform- 
 able to his wishes. Gracchus was ordered to 
 execute the decree, along with other two mem- 
 bers of committee ; and he got as escort a de- 
 tachment of the armed force, of which I was 
 one. When we got to the abbey, our chief 
 ordered the door to be broken open, although 
 no one dreamed of refusing us access, and
 
 42 MfilPASMJiflS^. 
 
 placing himself in front of tlie'g^od vir^/ne 
 addressed her in these words-—' lioolc there, 
 citizens! mark that bit of stone, 'W which the 
 imbecile enemies of the constitution" Attribute 
 supernatural powers ! In the name of the lai#, 
 let it fall this instant under the sledge-hammer 
 of reason!' The order was no sooner given, 
 than it was obeyed. One fellow got a lever, 
 with which he made the statue shake on its 
 base ; another, climbing upon the altar, cast a 
 rope with a slip knot round the neck ; and the 
 fanatical Gracchus, seizing the end of it, pulled 
 it with such force, and so little precaution, that 
 the statue was loosened from its lofty pedestal, 
 and tumbling on him from the whole df th^ 
 height, struck him down stark dead. The faRof 
 so ponderous a mass shook the whole 6f the oH 
 fabric ; the vaulted roof was rent with a terrible 
 crash ; and a knight that knelt on one of the
 
 7:j^^ CAR BONA RO. 43 
 
 lomji^^, rolling down to the foot of the altar, 
 wajs , ^hlver^d in a thousand pieces. We all 
 ran out, in the full persuasion that the patrons 
 and founders, or rather, that the great devil 
 himself was at our heels. No one looked be- 
 hind him, much less did any one think about 
 picking up the president. We got back to 
 Chevreuse in great consternation ; but scarcely 
 was the circumstance known there, when we 
 received from the revolutionary committee 
 strict injunctions that no one should mention 
 it on pain of death."* 
 
 The clerk had just finished this strange tale, 
 the particulars of which were known to but few 
 persons in Chevreuse, when the old horse that 
 drew the cabriolet stopped, discouraged by the 
 c*,ppearance of the steep bank up which he had to 
 
 .((iflJO 
 
 event similar to the one here recorded is said to liave 
 
 actually happened in 1794. — JVofe of the French editor.
 
 44 THE CARBONARO. 
 
 travel. A smack with the whip sent him forward 
 but a few steps, so his master thought it best 
 to dismount ^ and his fellow- travellers, who were 
 squeezed by the narrow vehicle, immediately 
 followed his example. From the happy air of 
 the trio, one would have said they had met 
 with some fortunate adventure, yet the pleasure 
 they testified was merely that of stretching 
 their limbs at freedom. Alas! who has had so 
 slender an experience of human life, as not 
 to know that almost all the pleasures of this 
 world arise out of the momentary cessation of 
 physical pain, or the suspension of mental un- 
 easiness ? 
 
 When they had got to the top of the hill, 
 and were within sight of the old wall that 
 served as an enclosure to the buildings of " Our 
 Lady of the Rock," the lieutenant went forward, 
 in order to take such measures as were re-
 
 THE CARBON ARO. 45 
 
 quired, without giving" offence to the inmates of 
 the mansion. The judge, followed by his clerk 
 and Dame Bontemps, entered the outer yard, 
 the gate of which stood open, and from which a 
 hay-cart was about to be driven by Bourgeois 
 the farmer in person. Farmer Bourgeois had 
 sufficient knowledge of his profession to know 
 the good wool from the bad in his mongrel 
 flock: he could also tell perennial sainfoin 
 from annual; and, moreover, after divers years 
 of hesitation, he had prevailed on himself to 
 lay out a part of his lands in artificial grasses ; 
 and having found the benefit of this process, 
 he contemplated getting rid by degrees of all 
 the meadow on his farm. Wholly occupied in 
 agricultural pursuits, and but rarely quitting 
 his home, unless to go to market, he had the 
 good sense to trouble his head but little in 
 political matters. He was very well to live,
 
 4(i THE CARBONARO. 
 
 but he had not sufficient riches to make him 
 cry up equality and hate the nobility, as fbe 
 wealthy farmers his neighbours did. His coun- 
 tenance was vulgar, his presence heavy and 
 clownish; he had never been in the ranks, as 
 he had found means of evading the conscriji- 
 tion by pretending disease, which cost bini 
 less than paying for a substitute. Speaking of 
 him in a moral point of view, he was honest 
 after the fashion of the world ; that is, he did 
 not refine overmuch in his notions of probity. 
 He would not have taken a crown from his 
 neighbour's purse, but if the crown happened 
 to drop into his own, it was like to remain 
 there. Farmer Bourgeois had been married 
 for about ten years to a little dark-complexioned 
 and somewhat swarthy dame, whose lively black 
 eyes spoke a language which her manners did 
 not belie. Active and intelligent, Madame
 
 THE CARBONARO. 47 
 
 Bourgeois conducted her household and go- 
 verned her, husband with unlimited sway ; she 
 possessed, indeed, over the latter the superi- 
 ority which a higher intellect and a more 
 decisive character render easy of acquisition 
 and of preservation in any connexion whatever. 
 Her husband's affairs prospered in her hands ; 
 and she was sufl5ciently respected in the dis- 
 trict, although such of the neighbours as had 
 dealings with her complained that she was 
 sharp even to injustice, or, as they expressed 
 it in their country way, " she wished to take 
 twice tithe of one farrow." They were com- 
 pelled at the same time to confess, that if she 
 loved her purse rather better than her neigh- 
 bour, she was by no means without kindly 
 feelings. It was admitted that she took a 
 pl^ure in conferring an obligation, provided 
 it, cost her nothing ; and if, in rendering a ser-
 
 4S THE CARBONARO. 
 
 vice, she saw the slightest chance of, at the 
 same time, realising a decent profit, there was 
 no bounds to her zeal. A carter, and a girl to 
 look over the poultry, were all her attendants. 
 The shepherd and his wife lived in a separate 
 building, which in the times of the monks had 
 served as a press-house. 
 
 The judge, who wished to use a little dis- 
 simulation, told the farmer, that as he was pro- 
 ceeding to Mesnil St, Denis, a village that 
 bordered on the lands of " Our Lady of the 
 Rock," for the purpose of sealing some instru-; 
 ments, he had found himself slightly unwell, 
 and he was desirous to rest a few minutes. 
 Bourgeois courteously begged the judge to 
 walk into the house where he would find his 
 wife, and calling to his carter, he bid him look 
 after M. Dupuy's horse. 
 
 During this brief conversation, the. clejrk.
 
 THE CARBONARO. 49 
 
 who along with Dame Bontemps had fallen a 
 little behind, was regarding with attention the 
 old church, now transformed into a barn : the 
 outside was, with a very few alterations for the 
 worse, in precisely the same condition as he 
 had beheld it thirty years before. " I am 
 as much at home here," said he to the mid- 
 wife, " as if I had visited the place but 
 yesterday. Do you see those broken panes at 
 the top of that gothic window with some 
 traces of armorial-bearings beneath them i 
 That was the effect of a volley of musketry 
 which we fired off on our arrival to show our 
 hatred of the aristocrats ; but, egad, when we 
 went away we were not so courageous. I 
 should like much to know in what state the 
 inside is now. Let us go in and see." In vain, 
 however, did he try the door ; it was fast shut. 
 They proceeded, in consequence, to join the 
 VOL. I. c
 
 50 THE CARBONARO. 
 
 judge, whom they found in the kitchen chatting 
 with Bourgeois, while his wife had gone down 
 to the cellar to fetch some wine for her guest. 
 When she came up, she looked with some sur- 
 prise towards the strangers. " It is Bonfils, my 
 clerk," said M. Dupuy ; " and this is Madame 
 Bontemps, the midwife of Chevreuse ; you can- 
 not but be acquainted with her." 
 
 He looked fixedly, while pronouncing these 
 last words, at the farmer's wife ; but, to his great 
 surprise, she exhibited no signs of emotion. 
 M. Dupuy began to lose all patience at this, 
 and turning to Bourgeois, he said in a magis- 
 terial tone — 
 
 *' Have you no declaration to make to jus- 
 tice in respect to what passed the other night 
 in your dwelling? It was your duty to antici- 
 pate my visit, and that of the police." 
 
 This unexpected question confounded the
 
 THK CARBON ARO. 51 
 
 farmer, and made his wife tremble. On hearing 
 the police mentioned, her cheeks were covered 
 with a sudden flush ; but perceiving her hus- 
 band about to speak, and dreading that he 
 might commit some indiscretion, she subdued 
 her emotion, and said hastily, and with an air of 
 embarrassment which she strove to conceal — 
 
 " What can any one have told your worship 
 about us? Nothing ill, I hope. We possess, 
 both of us, a reputation without blemish 
 throughout the district; and if we should re- 
 quire sureties, we could get them even on the 
 bench at Versailles, where my husband has a 
 second cousin." 
 
 ** We have nothing to say to that just now," 
 said M. Dupuy drily; '* characters and sureties 
 make nothing against facts. Answer categori- 
 cally to my questions, and without being con- 
 fused. Bonfils, take down the answers."
 
 52 THE CARBON ARO. 
 
 " How came you to send, the night before 
 last, for Dame Bontemps here ; and what has 
 become of the young female that she de- 
 livered?" :?tsJn^ TOvsn 
 
 *' I, your worship ! I protest to you, before 
 the God of truth, that now listens to us, I 
 neither sent for this person nor for any other. 
 This is the first time of my life that I ever set 
 eyes on her : she is here, and she can declare 
 it. Look me full in the face, ma'am ; dare you 
 maintain that you know me ?" 
 
 The farmer's wife put this query with a 
 sharpness that bordered on anger; for she 
 sought to display the appearance of indigna- 
 tion that calumny naturally excites. 
 
 " Well, then, speak, Dame Bontemps," re- 
 plied the judge testily, for he was at a loss how 
 to explain such a positive denial ; " do you 
 persist in your declaration ?''>?* I tjJb I tjsrft ^gid;
 
 THE CARBONARO. 53 
 
 *' It is quite true," replied the midwife, 
 ** that I never saw this lady, nor am I any more 
 acquainted with this apartment than with her. 
 I never entered it : the circumstances that 1 
 witnessed passed in a bam." 
 
 " See now how she equivocates !" said the 
 farmer's wife, interrupting her in a hasty and 
 perturbed manner ; " after declaring that she 
 knew me, she attempts to shift about and tell 
 us, God only knows what, about some barn 1 
 It is a shame ! You see, gentlemen, this is 
 nothing but a parcel of lies, invented to put 
 honest people to trouble." 
 
 ** I accuse you not," replied Dame Bontemps, 
 with an air of dignity (for the dignity that ac- 
 companies innocence is peculiar to no rank in 
 life) ; " but what I have said, and I should re- 
 peat it were death staring me in the face, is 
 this, that I delivered, the night before last, an
 
 54 THE CARBONARO. 
 
 unhappy female, who seemed to be in the power 
 of a man, from whom she sought to save her 
 infant in confiding it to me. I affirm, more- 
 over, that it was in a barn, which every circum- 
 stance induces me to believe was connected 
 with the house where we now are." 
 
 These last words produced a marked effect 
 on Madame Bourgeois ; an expression of joy 
 sparkled in her eyes, as she said with a lively 
 tone, and as if excited by some sudden thought — 
 
 " Well, your worship, since this woman pre- 
 tends that she has been in some barn or other, 
 I request that you will visit ours ; and, if you 
 find neither mother nor child there, I insist that 
 you search the dwelling throughout, from the 
 cellar to the garret. But let us begin with the 
 said barn." 
 
 In finishing these words she took up a bunch 
 x)f keys, and, followed by the whole party, she
 
 THE CARBON A RO. 55 
 
 opened the door of the ancient church. Sheaves 
 of wheat occupied the farther end of the edi- 
 fice, and seemed as if they had been heaped up 
 there for a long time. There was nothing that 
 indicated the place to have been at any period 
 inhabited. 
 
 ** Look here," said the clerk to the magis- 
 trate, — ** here are the stones yet that served as 
 a pedestal for the statue of the virgin ; the 
 fracture formed by the lever, that was used to 
 overturn it, is still visible !" 
 
 *' I also," added Dame Bontemps, '* recog- 
 nise this barn perfectly as the one to which 1 
 was brought. There is the pointed roof, and 
 there are the carved pillars ; the lamp stood on 
 this ancient altar, and the couch was placed 
 before it. I said, but a moment ago, that I 
 could not affirm that I had ever been here ; but 
 now," added she in a raised voice, and assuming
 
 5^ THE CARBONARO. 
 
 a solemn tone, " I am ready to swear that I 
 have: for it is impossible that there should 
 be in the neighbourhood another place in all 
 points so similar," 
 
 " Most assuredly," answered the lieutenant, 
 who had just arrived, " there is not. There 
 is no other church or chapel in the whole 
 district in which divine service is not per- 
 formed." 
 
 The unexpected appearance of the officer, ac- 
 companied by a couple of gendarmes, startled 
 and confused the farmer's wife ; but she soon 
 recovered herself, and endeavouring to turn the 
 matter off by an air of confidence, she delibe- 
 rately proposed to M. de Sainville to conduct 
 him through the house. 
 
 " Perhaps," said she with an ironical air, 
 ** we may, before we have done, discover 
 Madame Bontemps' lying-in lady ; in her
 
 THE CAR^ONAKO. 67 
 
 condition she would hardly take post and run 
 
 M. Dupuy, hesitating and irresolute, perceived 
 with great chagrin that he was stopped short 
 in the midst of his pursuit by the dishonesty of 
 one of the women before him, and he knew not 
 on which to let his wrath light — now suspecting 
 the one and now the other : the lieutenant did 
 not partake of his doubts. He did not find in 
 the farmer's wife that air of truth and candour 
 which had made him credit so readily the storv 
 of Dame Bontemps, and he was anxious for an 
 opportunity of exposing her trickery. The 
 habit of searching out the guilty who have 
 such a strong interest in eluding the grasp ot 
 justice, the necessity of holding fast by the 
 thread of truth through all the turns of the 
 labyrinth, in which every art is used to bewilder 
 them, naturally sharpen the wits of the agents
 
 58 THE CARBONARO. 
 
 of all ranks who are appointed to watch over 
 the public safety. It is not too much to assert, 
 that this kind of chase sharpens even their ex- 
 ternal senses. It is with them as with profes- 
 sional huntsmen, who can tell from a slight 
 trace hardly visible on the sand ; from the branch 
 of a tree whose leaves are a little rubbed ; in a 
 word, from marks that are invisible to others, 
 the age, the height, and the strength of the 
 animals that they are pursuing, as well as the 
 route they have taken. The lieutenant was 
 extremely able in the art of investigation ; and 
 he could seize with marvellous sagacity indi- 
 cations leading to conviction in circumstances 
 which appeared altogether trivial. 
 
 As they left the barn, he noticed in the wet 
 soil the yet fresh traces of two wheels that had 
 passed by the side of the building. 
 
 ** It is not long," said he carelessly to Bour-
 
 THE CARBONARO. 59 
 
 geois, '' since you were taking some fodder out 
 of the barn." 
 
 " Not a truss has gone out of it," replied 
 the latter, ** for these three months, and 
 more." 
 
 '* Whence came these wheel-ruts then? They 
 seem as if they had been made yesterday." 
 
 *' That," said the farmer hesitating, — " that 
 must have been my waggon, that was turned 
 here in order to lay down a thousand tiles 
 I ordered the other day to mend the roof 
 with." 
 
 The lieutenant drew from his pocket his 
 silver pencil, which had inches marked on it, 
 measured the rut, and making the farmer ob- 
 serve that it was but three inches and a 
 quarter broad, said, looking him steadily in the 
 face — 
 
 " The wheels of your waggon are of the
 
 60 THE CARBONARO. 
 
 standard breadth, and, of course, twice as 
 broad as those that formed this rut: perhaps 
 it was the car that brought Dame Bontemps 
 here." jdi biUiiad liioir 
 
 " My car!" said the farmer, colouring; *^ I 
 have, at this moment, no other vehicle than 
 that waggon which you see full of hay there, 
 and the old close cart that stands beneath the 
 shed down yonder." -^^ i^^^^ 
 
 ** These ruts did not make themselves : you 
 are attempting to impose upon justice, and you 
 may perhaps repent it — ." 
 
 He had not time to finish the sentence, when 
 Dame Bontemps seized his arm, and pulling 
 him into the barn, along with the judge, whom 
 she held with the other hand — 
 
 ** Gentlemen," said she eagerly, '* come with 
 me, you shall see now whether that woman or 
 I merit your esteem most."e>b|jii8 u ? lari boIiKi
 
 THE CARBON ARO. 61 
 
 So saying, she quitted them with a glance 
 of indignation at the fanner's wife, and 
 running to tlie end of the barn, pulled away 
 from behind the fragments of the altar some 
 sheaves of wheat, and returning, displayed to 
 the astonished spectators, with an air of triumph, 
 the implements of her profession. It will be 
 recollected that she had deposited them there 
 after taking them from the bag, in order to put 
 the infant into it. 
 
 " Every doubt is cleared away," cried the 
 judge : — " arrest this woman Bourgeois and her 
 husband, and every one that inhabits this den 
 of robbers. I well knew that we should get 
 hold of the guilty before we were done." 
 
 The farmer's wife, struck dumb by this order, 
 and trembling in every joint, attempted in vain 
 to utter some words of justification. Her voice 
 failed her ; a sudden paleness came over her
 
 62 THE CARBONARO. 
 
 face ; and at length casting herself, or rather 
 falling at the knees, at the very feet of the 
 magistrate, she sobbed out — 
 
 " Oh, for mercy's sake, dear sir, do not de- 
 stroy us ! I am — I am, indeed, an honest wo- 
 man. I have done wrong, I confess, in con- 
 cealing the truth ; but terror — the threats made 
 use of — and above all, the cursed money ! — 
 But you shall be told all. Come, husband, we 
 must tell these gentlemen every thing; state 
 every thing that took place : for me, I have not 
 strength to do it." 
 
 The farmer was hardly in a better condition 
 to give the information required of him than 
 his wife was. He opened his large dull eyes, 
 and attempted to speak ; but he only stammered. 
 The judge himself was confounded with what 
 he had just witnessed, and did not know where 
 to begin his queries. The lieutenant, who had
 
 THE CARBONARO. 6S 
 
 somewhat more firmness, raised up Madame 
 Bourgeois, who still remained at his knees, 
 and addressing in a geutte tone — 
 
 *' Be composed; you have doubtless done 
 wrong, extremely wrong, in imposing upon jus- 
 tice ; still if, as T believe the case to be, you 
 have not participated in these criminal doings, 
 you have nothing to fear : but above all, disguise 
 nothing, otherwise you shall be treated as an 
 accomplice." 
 
 '* Ah, sir," said she, wiping her eyes, " I 
 shall tell every thing I know." 
 
 " You must first of all," said the magistrate, 
 in a severe tone, '* point out the guilty parties. 
 The tall young man, where is he ? What 
 have you done with the female that was de- 
 livered in the barn ? You are answerable for 
 her." 
 
 ** Ah, my God !" replied she, again bursting
 
 64 THE CARBONARO. 
 
 into tears, " I know nothing of where she is 
 now." 
 
 M. de Sainville, perceiving that this answer 
 had excited the anger of the judge, again in- 
 terposed — 
 
 *' Give her time," said he, *' to compose her- 
 self, or it will be impossible to procure any in- 
 formation from her. The house is watched ; 
 so that, if the criminals be still in it, they can- 
 not escape." M. Dupuy yielded to this argu- 
 ment ; and the lieutenant giving his arm to 
 the farmer's wife, the whole party, with the ex- 
 ception of one of the gendarmes, who was left 
 at the door for security's sake, again entered 
 the house.
 
 THE carbo:naro. 65 
 
 a sidi h 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 Madame Bourgeois was some time before 
 she recovered from the extreme agitation that 
 she had been thrown into. When she became 
 somewhat calm, the judge repeated the ques- 
 tion that he had previously put — 
 
 ** Where are the persons of whom we are in 
 search ?" 
 
 ** They set out from this last night, and they 
 forbade us, at the peril of our lives, to folio \;v 
 them."
 
 66 THE CARBONARO. 
 
 " In that case I care very little what you 
 have to say. I have a great mind to send yoti 
 to prison in their stead." 
 
 The lieutenant observed, that if Madame 
 Bourgeois were to tell exactly all that had 
 come under her observation, they might collect 
 from her declaration some valuable informa- 
 tion. 
 
 *' Well, then, speak, and speak clearly," 
 replied the magistrate, with an air of indif- 
 ference. 
 
 " It was last Sunday week," said the far- 
 mer's wife, " at the close of the day, about 
 seven o'clock at night, that we saw a tall well- 
 dressed young man come into the house, with 
 a lady hanging on his arm. The lady walked 
 with difficulty. A servant, carrying a bundle, 
 followed them. They asked for beds for the 
 night. The lady, they said, was far advanced
 
 THE CARBONARO. 67 
 
 in her pregnancy, and found herself too much 
 fatigxied to reach the chateau^ at some distance 
 off, where she had purposed to pass the night. 
 I told them that we were not in the habit of 
 lodging strangers ; but they insisted on it ; and, 
 as it would have been inhumanity to refuse 
 them, I even let them stay, though I told them 
 that they would be but indifferently put up. 
 The young man said a night was soon over ; 
 that, besides, his sister was not particular ; and 
 for himself, he never slept sounder than on a 
 truss of fresh straw. M. Bourgeois would not 
 hear of that ; and so he gave the gentleman the 
 room that his kinsman, the attorney, occupies, 
 when he comes to visit us. The young lady 
 was put in a closet near to me. Xext morn- 
 ing M. de Noirval, that was the young man's 
 name, said to me that his sister, for whom 
 country air had been prescribed, had taken a
 
 ^ THE CARBONARO. 
 
 liking to the place ; and that if it were agree- 
 able to us, it might be so arranged that she 
 should remain. He at once, and without hag- 
 gling, proposed a hundred francs a week, not 
 including the provisions that we should furnish 
 them : he added, that he would pay the money 
 in advance ; and I of course accepted so advan- 
 tageous an offer. The first day they remained 
 in the parlour ; but as that was a confinement 
 both to them and us, I thought of carrying a 
 table and a few chairs into the barn, which, as 
 you know, is lighted by windows, and it was 
 there they spent their time in reading and 
 writing." 
 
 Here Sainville interrupted the recital of the 
 farmer's wife. *' You unquestionably aslcecf 
 whence they came, and where they were going; 
 or, at least, the name of the chateau where 
 they were to have slept V *
 
 THE CARBONARO. G9 
 
 *' I had a strono: desire to find out all that ; 
 but it was impossible, as you shall see. The 
 young lady, whose stomach was delicate, took 
 every morning some warm milk. When I 
 carried it to her, the morning after she arrived, 
 I found her bathed in tears. I sat down by 
 her side, and began to console her the best way 
 I could ; to which she only replied, while she 
 thanked me in a gentle voice, that to relieve 
 her afiQiction was a task beyond my power. I 
 was renewing my attempts when the young 
 man came into the room, and told me, with 
 a look of displeasure, that the doctors had 
 ordered silence and solitude as best for his 
 sister, and therefore he requested me ear- 
 nestly to avoid all occasion of inducing her to 
 speak. This request, or command rather, was 
 accompanied with a waive of his hand that 
 made me quit the chamber immediately. I did
 
 70 THE CARBONARO. 
 
 not, however, rest there; and, in order to drive 
 him to an explanation, I drew out a receipt for 
 the lodgings for the week that he had paid us ; 
 and I made M. Bourgeois, on tendering it, 
 request to know with what name he should fill 
 it up. * My name,' replied he, drily, * is 
 Noirval. I am waiting here for a medical 
 person, who is to take care of my sister; as 
 soon as he arrives we shall proceed to Ver- 
 sailles, where she is to be put to bed.' Seeing 
 my husband about to continue the conversation, 
 he stopped him short by saying — * I am not 
 given to meddle in other people's business, and 
 I expect others to act similarly by mine.' 
 
 ** There remained but one resource more — 
 that was, to pump the servant. He was not 
 a Frenchman ; but he loved his glass. One 
 night that he was sitting by the chimney-corner 
 in the kitchen, smoking his pipe, I offered him
 
 THE CARBONARO. 71 
 
 a glass of ray cherry- brandy ; and asked him, 
 
 at the same time, if he had been long in Lis 
 
 master's employ. 
 
 " * Yes!'" was the reply. 
 
 jjj*' ' How many years V said I. 
 " He put down his pipe, and held up his two 
 
 lingers. 
 
 " * Is he a kind man, this master of yours t 
 
 I think he is a little hasty.' 
 " ' As gun-pouter.' 
 0** ' What is his name V 
 *' * The Count— ^eii/5 / M. Noirfai: 
 *' ' And the young lady's, that takes on so f 
 *' * I not know tat, Dis to your healt.' 
 *'This was all that I could get out of him, 
 
 and my husband was no luckier than I." 
 
 v^f But you can, at least," said the lieutenant, 
 
 *' give us a description of the figure and face 
 
 of this mysterious personage."
 
 72 THE CARBONARO. 
 
 "You have only to see him once," replied 
 Madame Bourgeois, ** in order to know him 
 again. His is one of those faces that are never 
 forgotten. He is tall, extremely well made, 
 his features handsome, his eyes large and black, 
 the eye-brows finely arched, the nose aquiline 
 and rather long, his complexion brown, like 
 that of the natives of southern Europe ; and had 
 he not spoken French so well, I should have 
 set him down for a Spaniard or an Italian. 
 Although he was lively and passionate, he 
 would sit for whole hours without stirring, and 
 apparently plunged in a profound reverie. I 
 never saw such a changeable person : he smiled 
 so sweet, and yet when he curled his brows 
 his features assumed so terrible and so fearful 
 an expression, that one would have trembled to 
 meet him at the comer of a wood. He was 
 proud too, but not haughty at all ; yet he had
 
 THE CARBONARO. 73 
 
 a certain way of delivering his commands, that 
 you could not but obey them. His sister, if 
 she were his sister, was the very opposite of all 
 these. There was not the slightest resem- 
 blance in their faces, any more than in their 
 tempers. She was goodness and sweetness 
 personified : her complexion beautifully fair ; 
 her mouth small and rosy ; with such two 
 lovely eyes ! but with a languor of expression 
 about them, arising perhaps from the state of 
 her health." 
 
 " You appeared to have some doubts just 
 now about their relationship. What induced 
 you to doubt it ?" 
 
 " I thought it very unlikely that a young 
 lady of her age, and so rich as she appeared 
 to be, should be wandering over the country in 
 such a way with a brother, and without even 
 a maid-servant. I at first suspected that they 
 VOL. I. D
 
 74 THE CARBONARO. 
 
 were two lovers; that there had been some 
 runaway match, some private marriage ; but 
 I changed my opinion on that point, for I 
 noticed that when he fixed a passionate regard 
 on her, she turned away her eyes in a kind of 
 terror. I don't know even yet what to think 
 of it," added the narrator, in a thoughtful 
 tone. 
 
 Judge Dupuy became fidgety, and ap- 
 peared to attach very little interest to her 
 details. 
 
 ** You have been making a long story of it," 
 said he to the farmer's wife, '* and we have 
 not yet got to the event that brought the 
 o£Bcers of justice to the farm." 
 
 "We shall get to that by-and-bye. Three 
 days ago," she continued, "the young lady 
 began to feel extreme pain, and, as I thought 
 there was no time to be lost, I proposed to
 
 THE CARBONARO. 7d 
 
 M. de Noirval to send for our own doctor ; 
 but he answered that his sister preferred 
 a midwife. I told him, in that case, there 
 was one at Chevreuse who was generally 
 liked ; and he then requested the car to bring 
 her. When the horse was yoked, he made his 
 groom set out with it, after he had given him 
 his orders in a strange language that I did 
 not understand ; and he added at the same 
 time, turning with a look of authority to my 
 husband — 
 
 '* ' I pay pretty well for being master here : 
 I intend to convey my sister into the bam, 
 and I desire that no one intrude on us there 
 this night. If any one dares to present him- 
 self in spite of my prohibition, I shall treat 
 him as an enemy.* 
 
 " In pronouncing these words he showed us-
 
 76 THE CARBONARO. 
 
 the end of the pistols, which he always carried 
 about his person." 
 
 ** So," said the judge, " you saw nothing- 
 of what took place at the lying-in, then?" 
 
 " After such threats, how dared we attempt 
 it? — Only, about two o'clock in the morning, 
 hearing the dogs bark when the car came back, 
 I got up, and saw from the window a woman, 
 whose eyes were blindfolded with a handker- 
 chief, led into the barn. When I saw that, 
 I said to my good man, * I feel alarmed at 
 these doings ; these people have given us a 
 great deal of money, but I had rather than 
 double the sum that they had never set foot 
 in the house. If I did not dread the ven- 
 geance of that terrible man, I would go to- 
 morrow morning and make a declaration before 
 the mayor of Mesnil.'"
 
 THE CARBONARO. 77 
 
 *• You had nothing to do with mayors," said 
 the judge, drawing himself up ; *' it was to me, 
 madam, you ought to have addressed your- 
 self: — but go on " 
 
 The farmer's wife continued her story : — 
 ** Next day, after dinner, a man on horseback, 
 who seemed in a violent hurry, brought a letter 
 for M. de Noirval. When he cast his eye 
 over it he changed colour, and calling for M. 
 Bourgeois, he asked him if he could spare his 
 car again : but this time his object was to buy 
 it, as well as the horse that drew it. He paid 
 us, without question, the four hundred francs 
 that we had given for them three years before ; 
 and then, addressing me, he said I must give 
 him one of our mattresses, and help him to 
 place his sister in the vehicle in the best way 
 possible. 
 
 ** * How can you talk, sir,' said I to him, ' of
 
 78 THE CARBONARO. 
 
 madame's travelling in her present condition? 
 Stop till the nine days are up at least.' 
 
 " He replied, that it was impossible to delay 
 a single hour ; and made me go into the barn, 
 and tell his sister that they must immediately 
 set out, 
 
 " * Whither would you conduct me V an- 
 swered she with a faltering voice ; * leave me 
 to die here.' 
 
 ** He replied, that she should not die, and 
 that he would take care that nothing was want- 
 ing to her comfort. While he was making 
 his preparations I remained with the young 
 woman, who, seemingly affected by my atten- 
 tions, eagerly asked me if I could calculate on 
 the honesty of the midwife that had been with 
 her the previous night. I replied, that I had 
 not seen the person that was with her ; but if it 
 were, as I supposed it to be, Madame Bon-
 
 THE CARBONARO, 79 
 
 temps of Chevreuse, she merited every con- 
 fidence. — You perceive, madam," added she, 
 turning to Dame Bontemps, '* that I did you 
 all manner of justice." 
 
 Dame Bontemps thanked her by an inclina- 
 tion of her head. — " Soon after, M. de Noirval 
 and his sister quitted us : the lady was laid 
 in the bottom of the car, which was driven by 
 the groom ; the gentleman walked by its 
 sid«." 
 
 " What route did they take 1" said the lieu- 
 tenant. 
 
 " On leaving they took to the left ; but he ex- 
 pressly forbade our following him. My husband, 
 however, was telling me this morning, that he 
 believed, from the tracks of the car which he 
 noticed in the wood, that they got round to 
 the Voisins road."
 
 90 THE CARBONARO. 
 
 " In all these matters," said the lieutenant, 
 looking at the farmer's wife with an eye that 
 was accustomed to penetrate through the 
 thickest coverings of dissimulation, — " in all 
 these matters your conduct has been irre- 
 proachable, if it was exactly in conformity with 
 the story you have told us. But one thing 
 makes me doubt this — I mean the terror you 
 just now displayed in the barn. Something 
 must have taken place which, as you ima- 
 gine, has compromised you, and which you 
 have therefore an interest in concealing." 
 
 These words, pronounced in a stern tone, re- 
 newed the agitation of madame : she reddened 
 and hesitated ; and the lieutenant, deeming the 
 opportunity favourable for drawing from her a 
 full and entire confession, added, with a loud 
 voice —
 
 THE CARBONARO. 81 
 
 ** No prevarication with us ! We must know 
 what became of the infant of the unhappy lady 
 that was delivered." 
 
 " It was not I — I swear to you, I know 
 nothing of it — I know not — ." 
 
 *' You will perhaps find it out," said the 
 irascible M. Dupuy, " in the prison of Ver- 
 sailles ; whither I shall send you this moment, 
 both you and your husband." 
 
 " They made me take an oath," said the 
 farmer's wife, weeping-, " to observe the pro- 
 foundest silence." 
 
 " Such oaths are criminal, and bind not the 
 conscience." 
 
 " Well, then, the infant was laid in a corner 
 of the garden, behind the raspberry-bushes." 
 
 ** Instantly conduct us to the spot." 
 
 " Thank God ! it is no longer there. The 
 servant that carried it thither, by his master's
 
 82 THE CARBONARO. 
 
 orders, came to me about an hour after- 
 wards, and said to me, — ' My master would 
 not care that the poor little creature which 
 has just come into the world were out of it 
 again ; but it is not dead after all. 1 felt the 
 heart beat, and so I covered it over with leaves 
 instead of burying it. You are a decent 
 woman ; go, and save the life of the infant ; 
 but, above all things, breathe not a word on 
 the subject.' I did not hesitate to follow the 
 dictates of humanity, when so appealed to ; and 
 running into the garden, I found the baby, still 
 breathing, in the spot that he had pointed out 
 to me. I carried it immediately to our shep- 
 herd's wife, who lives in a separate house from 
 us ; she is a good creature, and mother of a 
 family, and I was certain I could trust her. Her 
 sister that stays at Mesnil is employed to nurse 
 for the Foundling there, and she was to carry
 
 THE CARBONARO. 83 
 
 the new-born infant to the hospital this very 
 day. I told her to be sure to get a ticket. I 
 expect it every minute, and when it comes, I 
 shall deposit it in your hands." 
 
 ** But why," asked the lieutenant, " seek to 
 conceal from us so important a circumstance ? 
 You have done a deed which is so much the 
 more praiseworthy, that it was not accomplished 
 without considerable danger ; and yet your most 
 misplaced reservations gave you an appearance 
 of criminality that might have put you to very 
 great trouble." 
 
 '* I confess it ; but I felt persuaded that you 
 were entirely ignorant of every thing concern- 
 ing the child; and I cannot conceive, even 
 now, how you discovered that there existed 
 any desire to get rid of it. And besides, I 
 must declare to you, that I was withheld by the 
 terror which the gentleman had inspired me
 
 84 THE CARBONARO. 
 
 with. Until I see him bound and ironed, I 
 shall not feel myself safe from his vengeance. 
 And it is to be considered also that he paid us 
 handsomely, and therefore it was not our part 
 to inform against him." 
 
 Madame Bourgeois had told the truth this 
 time ; for all that she described had happened 
 exactly as she described it : one fact, however, 
 she had not thought fit to m< ntion — that, at the 
 moment of his departure, Noirvai had come into 
 her room, and shown her a purse well filled 
 with napoleons ; and told her, at the same time, 
 that its contents would be the reward of her 
 discretion. ** If," said he, ** you do not breathe 
 a syllable about any thing you may have seen 
 or learned of what has been taking place under 
 your roof, and if you refuse to answer any 
 interrogatories that may be put to you that shall 
 compromise my safety, then this gold shall be
 
 THE CARBONARO. 85 
 
 yours ; but if, on the other hand, through cu- 
 riosity or fear, you be prevailed on to injure 
 me, woe betide you ! Good-by. Vengeance, 
 OR Generosity ! — Such is my motto, and 
 such the secret of my life." 
 
 There was in the look and tones of Xoirval 
 something so terrible and sinistrous, that they 
 were capable of freezing with fear the stoutest 
 heart. He had besides thrown out a tempting 
 bait to the cupidity of the woman he addressed ; 
 and he had had occasion to observe that that 
 passion governed her with resistless sway.
 
 86 THE CARBONARO. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 When Madame Bourgeois had ceased 
 speaking, the judge said, in a peevish tone — 
 '* You see how it is, M. de Sainville, our expe- 
 dition has failed ; we might just as well have 
 remained at Chevreuse." 
 
 " I don't think so," replied the lieutenant : 
 " we have picked up some valuable hints ; 
 and, besides, we have found the missing in- 
 fant." 
 
 ** I should have liked better to have laid
 
 THE CARBONARO, 87 
 
 my hand on the missing rogue. That would 
 be a capture of some interest. But for the 
 present, at least, it is useless to think about 
 it ; and so you may as well call in your gen- 
 darmes." 
 
 As he was finishing this sentence, a loud 
 noise, as of people disputing, was heard in the 
 court-yard. Sainville sprung out, and in a mo- 
 ment afterwards he entered accompanied by his 
 assistant, whom, along with two others on horse- 
 back and in disguise, he had stationed outside 
 of the farm-house. The gendarme stated that 
 he had arrested two young men, while attempt- 
 ing to get into the house by climbing over the 
 garden-walls ; that they had resisted, especially 
 one of them, and refused to show their pass- 
 ports ; but that, after an exchange of a few 
 blows, they had been lodged safely in the barn, 
 where they then were. " Here," said he, *' is
 
 88 THE CARBONARO. 
 
 a portfolio, that fell out of the pocket of the 
 more obstinate of the two prisoners." 
 
 " We shall examine them at once," said the 
 judge briskly, and rubbing his hands from joy 
 at this unexpected prospect of a committal. 
 
 The officer went out, and soon returned with 
 the prisoners, as well as the gendarmes who 
 had arrested them. 
 
 The young men had no appearance of 
 vagrancy : they were genteelly diessed ; and 
 in the apparel of him that seemed the elder 
 of the two, there was a good deal even of 
 nicety apparent. His pantaloons, with their 
 large gathers and broad seams, fell over a 
 pair of gaiters of ticking, that seemed as if 
 pasted to his ancles. His shoes, much too fine 
 for country wear, bespoke an inhabitant of the 
 city; and his hunting-coat was cut after the 
 very last new mode. The knot of his silk hand-
 
 THE CARBONARO. 89 
 
 kerchief, which was tied lozenge-wise, and 
 served as a cravat, had an air of fashionable 
 life ; and his hair-cloth cap, which was placed 
 on the one side of his head, gave him almost 
 a military air. The only weapon, however, 
 that he carried, was an umbrella with a crooked 
 handle, and of a common colour, and which was 
 useful in two ways — it protected him from the 
 rain when the weather required it, and assisted 
 his oratory by giving additional force to his 
 gesticulation. The evolutions of the silver- 
 topped cane of a drum-major were not indeed 
 more rapid, nor more expressive. The gentle- 
 man in question was short, and his frame was 
 badly put together ; the trunk was long, and 
 the thighs short and slim. His eyes were 
 black, and his eyebrows shaggy; and when he 
 frowned, his countenance assumed a lowering 
 and even ferocious expression. A slight obser-
 
 90 THE CARBONARO. 
 
 vation, however, served to show that this was 
 less the effect of his ordinary disposition, than 
 of momentary mental excitement. His fore- 
 head was high, and his upraised hair formed a 
 sort of crest on the crown of his head. 
 
 His fellow-traveller had an oval face, with 
 the blooming and fresh complexion of youth : 
 his eyes were blue ; his hair light-coloured and 
 curly : his air was jovial ; his manners open ; 
 and the general expression of his face, careless- 
 ness and gaiety. He wore a great-coat of 
 grey camlet, made wide, and soiled rather than 
 worn, nankeen trowsers, and a black straw hat. 
 
 M. Dupuy proceeded to the examination of 
 the prisoners without a moment's delay. The 
 eldest stated that his name was David Collinet ; 
 that he was a native of Kerhonet, in the de- 
 partment of Finisterre ; his age twenty-nine. 
 When questioned as to his profession, he replied
 
 THE CARBONARO. 91 
 
 with emphatic pride — " at present a man of 
 letters ; but," added he, assuming a look of 
 anger which he meant to be imposing, " I am 
 as well, perhaps better, acquainted with the 
 law of the land than those who listen to me 
 and examine me : not only have I passed my 
 examinations at Rennes, but I am a practising 
 counsel at the bar of Paris. The magistrate 
 will not therefore be surprised that I dispute 
 the competency of his jurisdiction, and that I 
 protest with all my energy against the power 
 that he arrogates at this moment over my 
 person, and that of my young friend. Yes, I 
 protest in the most formal manner against this 
 unprecedented and vexatious proceeding ; and, 
 at the same time, I reserve to myself full 
 power and right to summon and prosecute to 
 the utmost the authors, abettors, and executors 
 of an outrage prohibited by the code, by the
 
 92 THE CARBONARO* 
 
 rights of the people, and by the very charter 
 itself, if it be allowable, I should add, to in- 
 voke a document which professed to be the 
 guarantee of our liberties." 
 
 " Mr. Practising Counsel," replied the ma- 
 gistrate with affected phlegm, but in a tone 
 half sour, half sweet, that ill concealed the ill* 
 natured pleasure he felt in getting within his 
 clutches a member of that modern bar, where 
 he saw none but ultra-partisans of liberal ideas, 
 and, by consequence, enemies of the ancient 
 magistracy, " be calm. Passion sits but in- 
 differently on persons of your profession. You 
 shall have all justice. Gendarme, where did 
 you arrest the prisoner ?" 
 
 The gendarme replied, that he had caught 
 him by the leg at the moment that he was 
 scaling the wall of the garden. 
 
 ** What excuse did he offer to you ?"
 
 THE CARBONARO. 93 
 
 ** None. — * I am takiog a walk,' said he ; 
 * go about your business.' " 
 
 " My object," interrupted CoUinet, " was to 
 rejoin my friend, who was sketching the turret 
 at the end of the garden-wall." 
 
 ** It is true," replied the gendarme, '* that 
 the other fellow had crept into the turret ; but it 
 should be added that, when he saw his compa- 
 nion laid hold on, he picked a large pebble 
 from the wall and threw it at my head. Luckily 
 I was stooping down, and it only hit my hat, 
 which bears the marks of it yet. I made him 
 a sign with my pistol to get down the way he 
 had climbed up, as speedily as possible ; and 
 whistling at the same time to my comrades, 
 they came to my assistance, and we got hold of 
 both the fellows." 
 
 ** You must confess, M. CoUinet," said the 
 magistrate, " that it was a most unbecoming
 
 94 THE CARBONARO. 
 
 thing in a barrister, who ought to show an ex- 
 ample of respect to the laws and to exterior 
 decency, to put himself in a position of being 
 arrested as a malefactor." 
 
 " A malefactor !" echoed the man of letters 
 indignantly ; " dare you apply so insulting an 
 epithet to a respectable citizen ? one who per- 
 forms, at one and the same time, the two no- 
 blest duties that it is given to a mortal to fulfil 
 — the defence of innocence, and the not less 
 glorious task of enlightening his country t I 
 see how it is ; you approve of the conduct of 
 the gendarme in arresting me." 
 
 ** Certainly, in such a case I should ar- 
 rest a peer of France; that is," added he, 
 as if astonished at his own boldness, " if I 
 caught him flagrante delicto ; you understand 
 me. 
 
 ** If I am not a peer," replied the author.
 
 THE CARBONARO. 95 
 
 drawing himself up, '* I have a relation who 
 has been called to the peerage by writ." 
 
 "A Collinet, I presume," said the judge with 
 an air of disdain ; adding in a muttering tone — 
 " precious successors of the dukes of Aquitaine 
 and Normandy ! O tempora ! But let us go on 
 to the next prisoner. What is your name and 
 profession, young gentleman ?" 
 
 " Hyacinthe Mitton, draughtsman and litho- 
 graphist, bom in Paris, and educated under 
 M. Girodet." 
 
 " Show us your papers." 
 
 The young man drew from the pocket of his 
 great-coat a large-sized livret,* filled with 
 drawings and sketches, and handed it to the 
 magistrate, saying — " This passport is as good 
 as any other." 
 
 * This is the name commonly given to a book that soldiers 
 carry about with them, and in which their names and descrip- 
 tions are iaserted.
 
 96 THE CARBONARO. 
 
 The judge opened the papers ; among which 
 he recognised the castle of Dampierre ; a view 
 of the valley of Yvette ; a half-finished sketch 
 of the church of "Our Lady of the Rock :" 
 there were also a few portraits of such persons 
 as had particularly attracted the attention of 
 the young draughtsman, — a beggar — a peasant- 
 girl — a soldier on the march, and several others. 
 Suddenly, Dame Bontemps, who was looking 
 over M. Dupuy's shoulder, exclaimed — "There's 
 the man that I saw in the barn ! These are 
 his very features, his dress, his shape ; it would 
 be impossible to give a better likeness of him." 
 Bourgeois and his wife also recognised the 
 figure of Noirval. 
 
 " You are doubtless acquainted with the 
 person here represented," said the magistrate 
 to Mitton. 
 
 " I know him by sight," answered Mitton, 
 smiling.
 
 THE CARBONARO. 97 
 
 " Have you seen him frequently ?" 
 
 *' Three or four times." 
 
 " You have been here for some time then?" 
 
 ** We have been wandering about the neigh- 
 bourhood since the beginning of the week." 
 
 " And you, Mr. Counsellor, what kind of 
 connexion have you had with the gentleman 
 whose portrait I hold in my hand ?" 
 
 '* I have already stated that I do not ac- 
 knowledge your authority to interrogate me." 
 
 " Perhaps you will show more condescension 
 to the public prosecutor of Versailles, at whose 
 disposal I shall place you, if you persist in 
 your culpable silence." 
 
 '*' You dare not," replied Collinet, with the 
 air of a melo-dramatic hero. 
 
 *' Don't be over sure, my dear fellow," said 
 the lithographist ; "this sour-looking gentleman 
 will make good what he says, I fear ; though, 
 VOL. I. E
 
 98 THE CARBONARO. 
 
 hang it! I don*t care about being sent to prison. 
 I know nothing about those abodes of pleasure ; 
 but they must contain some capital subjects: 
 famous caricatures the jailers and turnkeys — 
 nice picturesque interiors." 
 
 " I am not," said the judge, interrupting 
 him, " the dupe of the pretended indifference 
 that you put on in order to elude the law. I 
 shall write," he added, ** to the director-gene- 
 ral of the police, and enclose this portrait in 
 order to complete the description of the party 
 of whom we are in search ; and these gentlemen 
 must go under an escort to Versailles, where 
 the court will pronounce their fate." 
 
 " You can do so," said Collinet in a solemn j 
 tone ; " an armed and blind force is at your beck. 
 But have you reflected on the consequences ? 
 Are you not afraid of the eloquent appeal that 
 the friends of liberty will not fail to make in
 
 THE CARBONARO. 99 
 
 my favour ? They are still numerous in both 
 chambers ; and, looking to your own person, 
 Mr. Judge, have you pondered on the thunder- 
 ing accusations that will fall upon you ? You 
 will be dismissed — ruined !" 
 
 ** Attend you to your own defence, I shall 
 take care of mine." 
 
 " Had the agents of government any pru- 
 dence," continued Collinet, " they would see 
 the propriety of acting with circumspection 
 in the present state of men's feelings. Is it 
 possible to blind one's eyes to the fermentation 
 that now agitates the minds of the public? 
 Amidst the conspiracies which are every where 
 breaking out throughout Europe, the surface 
 alone is at rest. A hidden fire is slowly eating 
 its way, under the half-extinguished ashes, and 
 asks but a single spark to bid it burst into the 
 most terrible conflagration 1"
 
 100 THE CARBONARO. 
 
 " Paltry declamation !" said the magistrate ; 
 *' a counsellor's gallimaufry, only worthy of 
 contempt." 
 
 •* Well, after all," (these words he spoke with 
 the suppressed voice and lowering look of a 
 conspirator,) " it is passing strange ! the obsti- 
 nacy and ignorance of a country magistrate 
 may perhaps lead to the emancipation of my 
 country. Ah, if it be so arranged, happy, a 
 thousand times happy should I be to co- 
 operate in the great work of regeneration by 
 the temporary sacrifice of my personal free- 
 dom !" 
 
 " Egad, he speaks most eloquently !" said 
 the young lithographist, addressing the lieu- 
 tenant, with an air of as much ease as if he had 
 had no interest in the discussion. He was 
 proceeding, when Mr. Justice Dupuy, stung to 
 the quick by the reply of the barrister, put an
 
 THE CARBONARO. 101 
 
 end to further colloquy by ordering the gen- 
 darmes to remove the prisoners. 
 
 Whilst the warrant of committal was making 
 out, and the horse that was to take him back 
 to Chevreuse was being put to the cabriolet, the 
 farmer, who saw it was his interest to stand on 
 good terms with the justice, brought some 
 glasses and a bottle of Andressy wine, whose 
 reputation extends throughout the boundaries 
 of the Seine and Oise, and which the great 
 Henry used to look on as the best vintage 
 in France. The lieutenant, in drinking to M. 
 Dupuy, thought proper to represent to him 
 that there was some degree of severity in send- 
 ing two young men to prison, whose only crime 
 was clambering over a garden-wall. It was 
 enough certainly to justify their arrest by the 
 officers of justice, but not to implicate them in 
 a criminal transaction to which they appeared
 
 102 THE CAHBONARO. 
 
 absolute strangers. ** In your place," added 
 he, " I should let them off with a smart repri- 
 mand." 
 
 ** I would do so willingly," replied the jus- 
 tice, " if the case regarded the draughtsman 
 only, who seems to me a young giddy-head 
 without malice and without thought. But that 
 is not the case with the learned advocate. He 
 is one of those demoniacs who, if they were 
 allowed, would speedily bring back the age of 
 anarchy and revolution. Did you mark with 
 what insolence he declined my authority ?" 
 
 " He was wrong, certainly; but don't you 
 fear that you may be charged in your turn 
 with having exceeded your powers ? Consider, 
 M. Dupuy, that, though the ministers are 
 royalists, the public offices are still filled with 
 liberals, who delight in an opportunity of
 
 THE CARBONARO. 108 
 
 harassing any one that, like you or me, is at- 
 tached to the old regime'' 
 
 " But you forget the portrait that we have 
 seized. That is a strong proof, and keeps my 
 responsibility from all question. In fact," added 
 he smiling, for the Andressy wine had produced 
 in him the ordinary effects of the juice of the 
 grape — frankness of speech, and a sort of jolly 
 mirth, " let your good souls repeat as an 
 axiom, that it is better a hundred rogues should 
 escape than one honest man suffer, — a maxim 
 which no doubt reads beautifully in a tale ; — 
 mine — I say this between ourselves — is, to 
 prison with a hundred innocent, rather than 
 allow one criminal to escape ! What think you 
 of that maxim, my friend V 
 
 *' A hundred! that is a great many; — yet 
 there is some truth in what you say at the same 
 time."
 
 104 THE CARBONARO. 
 
 M. de Sainville was a humane man, and a 
 generous one, though he said this ; but our pro- 
 fessional pursuits exercise a constant influence 
 over our characters, and modify them without 
 our being conscious of their power.
 
 THE CARBONARO. 105 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 Whilst the magistrate was pursuing, with 
 Dame Bontemps, his route back to Chevreuse, 
 the prisoners, escorted by two gendarmes, fol- 
 lowed that which led to Versailles. 
 
 The young draughtsman, wbo kept his gay 
 humour without suffering any object of in- 
 terest that presented itself to his eyes to escape 
 attentive observation, went on cracking jokes 
 and amusing his escort. 
 
 The companion of his mischance was, on the
 
 106 THE CARBONARO. 
 
 contrary, silent and thoughtful. It was not 
 the criminal act with which he found himself 
 implicated that caused him the slightest dis- 
 quiet ; but he was by no means so easy respect- 
 ing certain papers in the portfolio that had 
 dropped from his pocket in his struggle with 
 the gendarmes, and which they refused to 
 restore to him. These papers, he was aware, 
 might compromise not only himself, but a 
 number of his friends. 
 
 The passion and pride, that constituted the 
 ground-work of his character, had made him 
 reply with haughtiness to the interrogatories 
 of the magistrate ; and, when the dispute got 
 warm, his arrest, which he looked on as illegal, 
 appeared to him an excellent occasion of ac- 
 quiring celebrity and even glory at the expense 
 of a few days' detention. The vanity of an 
 author came in for its share. He pictured
 
 THE CARBONARO. 107 
 
 himself drawing up an eloquent petition, full 
 of powerful argument and sublime eloquence. 
 The deputies of the opposition, with many of 
 the greatest speakers with whom he was inti- 
 mately acquainted, would not fail to lay hold of 
 an incident so opportune for the cause of free- 
 dom ; they would make it the subject of a 
 solemn discussion. The chambers, the public, 
 would have no other subject of conversation 
 but him ; and, in the meanwhile, he would 
 compose essays and pamphlets, which the news- 
 papers of his party would laud to the skies : 
 they would run through two, three, perhaps 
 four editions ! Such were the ideas of fame 
 and of profit, which are but seldom separated 
 in the head of a litterateur, that suppressed, in 
 M. CoUinet, all sentiments of prudence and 
 moderation. 
 
 But three hours' travel on foot, between two
 
 108 THE CARBONARO. 
 
 gendarmes, and the sneering looks of the pas- 
 sengers, which their case did not fail to attract, 
 had sufficed to cool down his political and lite- 
 rary enthusiasm. He now began to ponder, 
 somewhat sorrowfully, on the least injurious 
 consequences of this mishap — to be kept away 
 from his business and his amusements for se- 
 veral days, perhaps weeks : — for Justice resem- 
 bles disease in this, that her speed in pouncing 
 on her victims is as remarkable as her dilatori- 
 ness in letting them go again. 
 
 Mitton, perceiving his friend a prey to this 
 melancholy humour, in order to rouse him, 
 gave him a smart slap on the shoulder, apos- 
 trophising him at the same time with — 
 
 '* What a pretty tom-noddy you are, with 
 all your wit, to get us into such a scrape as 
 this ! If you had been content, instead of 
 arguing the matter with the magistrate, to
 
 THE CARBONARO. 109 
 
 state the simple facts of the case, to tell him, 
 for instance, that you had had the honour to 
 accompany me in a tale-hunting excursion, 
 by which it was your intention to profit, by 
 describing with your pen those objects that 
 I drew with my pencil — and my sketch-book 
 and your scrap-book would have sufficiently 
 proved all this — we should have been released 
 at once. It is true, the scaling of the wall 
 remained still ; but, as we had taken nothing 
 and broken nothing, it is evident that we 
 should have got rid of that for a rebuke at 
 most. The officer of the gendarmes, who 
 seemed an honest fellow, would have taken 
 our part, and the justice must have given in. 
 But no — thy stubborn head had determined 
 otherwise. I am enraged when I think that 
 I promised positively to be at the green-room 
 of the Varittes this evening at seven."
 
 110 THE CARBONARO. 
 
 " You think of nothing but amusements " 
 "And what the deuce came 1 into the world 
 for else, Mr. Philosopher? I console myself, 
 however, with the prospect of our triumphal 
 entry into the capital of the department of 
 the Seine and Oise ; especially, as I hope it is, 
 if this be a market-day. What an interest- 
 ing scene! Can't you, even at this distance, 
 behold the gaping boobies of the town and 
 country opening their large eyes and larger 
 mouths, and staring at us with as much eager- 
 ness as if we were two wild beasts ; and the 
 jokers of the crowd making game of your 
 military cap, and taking their fun out of your 
 elegant umbrella ? Then you'll get into such a 
 passion ! and that will give them a laugh the 
 more ! Egad, it would make a most capital 
 caricature ; it will furnish you with a famous 
 chapter for your novel.
 
 THE CARBONARO. Ill 
 
 These last words, which brought to his mind 
 a cherished work, about whose composition he 
 was almost as busy as about his politics, made 
 the man of letters smile. In the mean time, 
 they had passed the gate of St. Cyr, and were 
 approaching the ancient residence of the kings 
 of France, precisely at the point where the high- 
 way to Bretagne runs through the little park, 
 separating the orangery garden from the pi^ce 
 des Suisses. Had the project, which was wor- 
 thy of the magnificence of Louis XIV., been 
 completed, this piece of water, with its beautiful 
 outline and vast extent, would have become the 
 port of the Maintenon Canal ; that undertaking, 
 who^ immense aqueduct presents, even in its 
 present state of dilapidation, as imposing a mo- 
 nument as any that has been since reared by the 
 sovereign people. At present, broad alleys and 
 pleasant walks circle about the lake, beautifully
 
 112 THE CARBONARO. 
 
 contrasting with the height that hangs over the 
 south side, crowned as it is by a fine clump of 
 majestic pines. Exotics in the central provinces, 
 these trees look as if they were the representa- 
 tives of our mountains on a visit to their king. 
 The beauty of the scenery attracted the atten- 
 tion of the young lithographist, who gazed on it 
 now for the first time ; but on casting his eyes 
 towards the left, he was still more delighted 
 by the view of the orangery. Young Mitton 
 possessed in a very high degree the feeling of 
 the beautiful ; or, in other words, he possessed an 
 exquisite taste — that noble instinct, that precious 
 gift which Heaven accords only to its favourites, 
 and which ensures to them during life the fore- 
 most rank and most advantageous place in the 
 great theatre of those wonders that nature and 
 art exhibit. He marked with admiration the 
 skill with which the architect had taken ad-
 
 THE CARBONARO. 113 
 
 vantage, in constructing the palace of Ver- 
 sailles, of the inequalities of the ground ; and 
 how judiciously he had employed the Tuscan 
 order, with its embossments and imposing co- 
 lumns, in the exterior decoration of the vast 
 vaults of the mansion ; from which two magnifi- 
 cent sweeps of steps, of the finest proportions, 
 lead to the terrace above ; making the whole, 
 when viewed from the low ground, look like the 
 basement of the palace of light and elegant 
 Ionic architecture, which, according to a later 
 design, rises proudly over it. 
 
 The state of the sky at that moment added to 
 the loveliness of the scene. The mid-day sun 
 shot down its rays on the wing of the chateau 
 that they were contemplating, and heightened 
 the splendour of the golden tinge that time had 
 imparted to it; whilst the balustrade and the 
 trophies that crowned the roof were sharply out-
 
 114 THE CARBONARO. 
 
 lined in the dark-blue ground of a thick cloud, 
 which enveloped the whole of the northern 
 portion of the horizon. The fore-ground of the 
 picture was enlivened by the borders, set thick 
 with thousands of flowers, that form the par- 
 terre of the private garden of the orangery. 
 A few shrubs of a milder clime, myrtles, rose- 
 laurels, orange-trees of every variety, mixed 
 with marble vases, edged the compartments of 
 the parterre, and surrounded the fountain, from 
 which rose a sparkling and powerful ^'ef-e/'eaw. 
 Amongst the orange- trees was conspicuous that 
 which bears the name of the " great Bourbon," 
 and which the public owe to the munificence of 
 Francis I. This tree, which is of a most vene- 
 rable age, is still as leafy and vigorous as in the 
 spring-tide of its life ; and appears to feel no 
 more of the touch of time than has the glory 
 of its planter, the restorer of letters and pro-
 
 THE CARBONARO. 115 
 
 tector of the arts. Our young draughtsman, 
 who was captivated with the scene, endeavoured, 
 from a sentiment natural to a kindly disposition, 
 to make his friend a participator in the pleasure 
 that he experienced ; but the attempt was a 
 vain one. The discouraging answer of the 
 barrister was — 
 
 " I can see no ground for such violent de- 
 light in the contemplation of a parcel of stones, 
 heaped up on one another by a despot at an 
 immense expense." 
 
 ** Why," replied Mitton sharply, for he had 
 more historic lore than commonly falls to the 
 lot of painters, " you must at least allow that 
 this palace and these gardens cost France no- 
 thing ; — the Dutchmen paid for them." 
 
 ** A pretty philosophical answer," said Colli- 
 net, with a disdainful air ; ** you speak as if the 
 Dutch were not men, and members of the one
 
 116 THE CARBONARO. 
 
 great family. What am I saying ? At that time 
 the Batavian nation held a much higher rank, 
 in the eye of reason, than our own. They were 
 republicans— freemen — Protestants !" 
 
 As he pronounced these words, a confused 
 noise was heard in the environs of the palace, 
 mingled with tumultuous acclamations. In a 
 moment the higher parterre and the terrace 
 were covered with a multitude of people, while 
 others were seen hastily descending the great 
 stairs and the ramp that leads along the grove. 
 The monarch had just arrived from St. Cloud, 
 where he was residing with his family, to visit the 
 gardens of Versailles, which had been recently 
 repaired. He was seated in an open carriage, 
 with the two princesses his nieces by his side : 
 Monsieur had gone forward with the Duke 
 d'Angouleme to St. Cyr, where the pupils of 
 the Royal School were exercising with blank-
 
 THE CARBON ARO. 117 
 
 cartridges. The king was dressed in blue 
 uniform, without any decoration, except the 
 epaulets, which had crowns of gold instead of 
 stars. A hat with a white plume covered his 
 venerable forehead. Age and sickness had 
 not yet broken down that majestic figure so 
 finely suited to the offspring of so many kings ; 
 his eyes had, indeed, lost somewhat of their 
 fire, yet he still preserved that imposing look, 
 which none ever beheld and forgot. His air 
 was serene; and benevolence and affability 
 tempered the dignity which gave its habitual 
 expression to his physiognomy. He appeared 
 deeply affected by the reception that the inha- 
 bitants of Versailles gave him as they crowded 
 to meet him, with every demonstration of 
 sincere pleasure ; and hung round his carriage, 
 which they were freely permitted to approach, 
 the officers of the guard and the pages in wait-
 
 118 THE CARBONARO. 
 
 ing being his only attendants, for the escort did 
 not enter the gardens. Though the feelings of 
 affection in the crowd were the same, the ex- 
 pression of them varied very sensibly with 
 the age of the individuals. While the young 
 people, lively and curious, pressed close to the 
 wheels of the caUche, and impeded the ad- 
 vance of the horses, their ancient habits of 
 respect acted as a restraint upon the old, who, 
 with moistened eyes and hat in hand, modestly 
 ranged themselves along the hedge, and only 
 testified their good wishes by a few faltering 
 words, when the keen and piercing glance of 
 the monarch happened to distinguish among 
 them some ancient and faithful servant broken 
 down by time and distress, and smiling kindly 
 upon him, by his consoling regard revived his 
 sunken heart, and made him forget whole years 
 of suffering.
 
 THE CARBONARO. 119 
 
 The princesses had their share in the accla- 
 mations of the crowd ; and with the shouts of 
 ** Long live the King-" were mingled cries of 
 " Long live Madame." It was with a view to 
 the assertion of their peculiar claims on her 
 notice, and to put her in mind that she had 
 been born among them, that the inhabitants of 
 Versailles did not salute the daughter of Louis 
 XVI. by the title of her husband : a name 
 which he subsequently rendered so glorious. 
 And when they addressed her younger sister 
 as " mother of the Duke de Bordeaux," there 
 was something very affecting in this selection of* 
 a title which spoke of love and of hope, rather 
 than one which recalled the idea of recent 
 losses, and was pregnant with tearful recollec- 
 tions. 
 
 The king, on his arrival at St. Cloud, 
 entered the gardens by the grille du dragon.
 
 120 THE CARBONARO. 
 
 The statues and marbles and bronzes of the 
 magnificent piece of water had been lately 
 cleaned : the large fountains were playing ; 
 and he gazed with pleasure for some minutes 
 on a sight which never fails to attract crowds 
 of strangers, and which has a most magical 
 effect, especially when the rays of a bright sun 
 are darting through the spouting waters. He 
 then visited the baths of Apollo, and the colon- 
 nade ; and lastly, he drove along the alleys of an 
 extensive grove, that had been newly formed, 
 after the model of the garden at Hartwell ; that 
 honourable asylum, where he had supported 
 adversity with sufficient constancy to enable 
 him to review the scenes of it with pleasure. 
 The orangery was the limit of his drive. 
 
 As soon as the two gendarmes of Chevreuse, 
 who with their prisoners were advancing to meet 
 the carriage, perceived the royal party enter,
 
 THE CARBONARO. 121 
 
 they halted and drew their swords ; and Mittoii 
 hastily pulled off his hat. CoUinet, however, 
 in order to avoid that ceremony, stooped down 
 to the ground, and pretended to be tying the 
 points of his shoe. His comrade perceived 
 this petty piece of trickery, and reproved it. 
 
 " Would it not be best," said he, ** to salute 
 the king as every body else does, rather than to 
 prostrate yourself before him in that fashion?" 
 
 When the king departed, the prisoners pur- 
 sued their journey to the town ; but they did 
 not meet on their entrance with the honours 
 of a mob triumph, as Collinet had feared, and 
 as his companion desired. The streets were 
 deserted, for the people had crowded to the 
 park to enjoy the sight of the sovereign; and, 
 in addition, the storm which had been long 
 gathering at that moment burst, and a heavy 
 shower scattered the few idlers that remained. 
 VOL. I. F
 
 122 THE CARBONARO. 
 
 It was to no purpose that Collinet unfurled 
 his umbrella; he was wetted to the skin in 
 an instant. Mitton was also soaked, but his 
 joyous temper made him discover subjects of 
 consolation in whatever happened ; and he 
 exclaimed, as he entered the prison-door — 
 " After all, in such terrible weather it is much 
 more comfortable to be here than in the open 
 air." 
 
 I shall not aflSrm that the sight of the grated 
 doors, and the creaking of the bolts, and the 
 aspect of the jailer, and, above all, the dark- 
 ness of his new dwelling, would not soon have 
 destroyed his habitual gaiety. Happily, his 
 stay in that mansion of sorrow was not pro- 
 longed beyond the night.
 
 THE CARBONARO. 123 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 The magistrate, to whom the justice had 
 addressed the packet belonging to the pri- 
 soners, was named Duseilier. He was an 
 intelligent, well-informed man, about thirty 
 years of age ; his manners were correct ; and 
 he possessed, in an eminent degree, the first 
 qualification of a judge — integrity. His failings 
 were ambition, vanity, enviousness ; a combi- 
 nation of qualities by no means rare. He was 
 son of one of the head clerks in the oflfice of the
 
 124 THE CARBONARO. 
 
 minister of justice ; and his uncle was a General 
 Dorval, whom Napoleon, in recompense for 
 his long services, and yet more for his un- 
 bounded devotion to his imperial person, had 
 enriched with numerous gifts, and dignified with 
 the title of count. That uncle had a son, and 
 the two cousins went to school together ; but 
 the only result of this arrangement, which 
 ought naturally to have produced a lively and 
 durable friendship, was a species of rivalry at 
 once envious and malevolent. Dusellier, who 
 was a diligent student, and a clever one, 
 carried off the prizes, and gained the first 
 places ; while young Dorval, an indolent boy, of 
 small parts, and always at the bottom of his 
 form, had no other revenge than to tell his 
 companion — " Work away! sweat blood, sweat 
 water; you'll never be any thing but a petty 
 underling, while I shall be an officer and a
 
 THE CARBONARO. li?5 
 
 tount like my father, and perhaps a duke." 
 The vanity of young Duseliier was deeply 
 wounded by these predictions, and the more 
 so that their accomplishment was but too proba- 
 ble ; for the obscure rank of his father did not 
 admit of his embarking in the career of am- 
 bition with the advantages of the son of a man 
 whose fortune was already made. When, 
 however, he had finished his studies, and, by 
 the interest of his uncle, had obtained the 
 situation of deputy to the imperial procurenr 
 
 at the court of X , the excessively high 
 
 opinion that he entertained of his own talents 
 made him believe he might yet arrive at 
 some of those eminent posts to which, sub- 
 sequent to the revolution, many persons who 
 had started from a lower rank than his had 
 nevertheless attained. The restoration de- 
 ranged his plzins : in 1815, during the hundred
 
 126 THE CARBONARO. 
 
 days, he again caught a glimmering of hope, and 
 eagerly signed the additional act; but on the 
 return of the king, he gave himself up for lost. 
 Thanks, however, to the extreme indulgence 
 of the ministry, to whom, indeed, at that time, 
 liberal opinions formed a ground of recommen- 
 dation rather than a reason for rejection, he was 
 nominated judge of the court of Versailles. 
 Even this dignified and permanent office was 
 far from satisfying the desires of an am- 
 bitious mail, who looked on his elevation to 
 the bench as an exclusion from the titles and 
 dignities that had been the object of his 
 longings from his earliest youth ; and what 
 aggravated the wound that his vanity had re- 
 ceived, was to behold his cousin Dorval figur- 
 ing in the royal guard, although he had fought 
 along with Napoleon at Waterloo, and raised 
 to the same rank that he would have held had
 
 THE CARBONARO. 127 
 
 his old master been tbQ victor. With a tem- 
 per thus soured did M. Dusellier betake himself 
 to the Bourbons ; he wished their fall, not be- 
 cause he hated them, but because he saw in 
 legitimacy an insurmountable obstacle to his 
 chimerical ideas of elevation. He could not 
 conceal from himself the fatal consequences 
 that must necessarily ensue to his country from 
 such a catastrophe ; but the ruling passion 
 stilled the voice of duty and the suggestions of 
 reason. Two journals, which were then fa- 
 mous, contributed to foster these fatal illusions 
 . — we mean the Minerve and the Renommee ; and 
 they were still more confirmed when the re- 
 volutions in Spain, and in Naples, and Pied- 
 mont, burst forth ; for he had no doubt that 
 ^hese were the preludes to what was about to 
 take place in France. Indeed he believed, and
 
 128 THE CARBONARO. 
 
 he was not alone in that belief, that the insur- 
 rectional movement would perform the tour of 
 the whole globe. He felt strongly tempted to 
 take an active part in those great changes, not 
 that he was impelled to such a line of conduct 
 by the sort of fascination that leads on youth to 
 attempt whatever is new and hazardous, or that 
 he was at all inclined to labour for the welfare 
 of his country at his own cost. His motives were 
 much less dignified. His only object was to "^ 
 procure for himself, from among the spoils of 
 the vanquished party, a situation of more power 
 and influence. But, restless and dissatisfied as 
 was the temper of Dusellier, his character 
 was timid even to pusillanimity. Perhaps this 
 defect arose out of his feebleness of consti- 
 tution and indiff*erent health : certain it is, that 
 he was about that time attacked by a complaint
 
 THE CARBONARO. 129 
 
 in the chest, to which he afterwards fell a 
 victim.* He confined himself therefore to the 
 expression of his sentiments to such persons as 
 he knew to be liberals ; and if to those he did 
 not say, in so many words, that the govern- 
 ment ought to be overturned, he proved at 
 least very clearly that the existing order of 
 things ought not to be maintained. 
 
 When M. Dusellier opened the packet that 
 had been addressed to him by the district 
 magistrate of Chevreuse, he saw at once that 
 the two young men were utter strangers to the 
 crime under investigation. But the papers in 
 the portfolio of Collinet, he perceived, might 
 give rise to proceedings of another description. 
 That young man had had the imprudence to 
 preserve the letters, which proved that he was 
 
 • He died in the autumn of 1824, at the Eattx Bonnes, in the 
 <iepjMrtment of the High Pyrenees. — Note qf the French editor.
 
 130 THE CARBONARO. 
 
 a member of those secret societies, wliich were 
 at that time every where exciting the spirit 
 of revolt and of sedition. It is true they were 
 not signed ; but it was easy to see that they 
 had been written by persons holding important 
 oflSces in the civil and military departments of 
 the state. The magistrate balanced for some 
 time as to what use he should make of these 
 papers; his first feeling, conformable to his 
 duty, was to send them, along with the prison- 
 ers, to the director-general of the police : this 
 would have shown his zeal for the royal cause ; 
 but looking on that cause as irrevocably lost, 
 he was unwilling to let slip an opportunity of 
 strengthening his interest with the party that 
 was about to ascend to power. He therefore 
 summoned the prisoners to his presence, asked 
 them a few questions very politely, and after 
 receiving a satisfactory explanation of their
 
 THE GARBONARO. 131 
 
 journey to Chevreuse, he conducted the young 
 barrister into his closet, and put the port e-feuille 
 in his hands. 
 
 ** Your innocence has been clearly esta- 
 blished, and I am about to give orders for your 
 enlargement : 1 do this with so much the 
 greater pleasure, that I see by your corre- 
 spondence your sentiments are patriotic, and 
 that you are connected with the leaders of a 
 party which has the honour and glory of the 
 country at heart." 
 
 The barrister was confounded by this ad- 
 dress, and dreading lest a seeming conformity 
 of principles, which he had so little reason to 
 expect, concealed some snare, he hesitated to 
 reply. The judge, as if reading his feelings, 
 went on — 
 
 " I do not ask you," said he, " although per- 
 haps I might legally do so, the names of the
 
 132 THE CARBONARO. 
 
 persons who wrote these letters ; nor do I re- 
 quire any details respecting deliberations, in 
 which, in my present position, 1 cannot share : 
 you can easily appreciate the delicate nature of 
 my present conduct, and I am persuaded that 
 it will never quit your recollection ; and that 
 you will not omit to mention it to those of your 
 friends whom a more strict investigation on 
 my side might place in a very disagreeable 
 position. One thing, M. Collinet, I must say 
 to you ; you cannot use too much prudence and 
 circumspection in these matters. In affairs of 
 high importance, no paper ought ever to be pre- 
 served that can in the slightest degree compro- 
 mise ourselves or our friends. In future, never 
 keep any document that is not essential to your 
 enterprise. I hope it will succeed ; I hope that 
 an energetic and liberal government will again 
 place France at the head of the nations. I
 
 THE CARBONARO. 133 
 
 hope also, that such a grand regeaeration will 
 take place without drawing any more tears 
 from humanity. The impulse once given, the 
 consent will be universal : there will be but a 
 few isolated attempts at resistance to put down. 
 The events of the 20th of March aiford a good 
 augury : unquestionably the king will adopt the 
 same line of conduct now that he did on that 
 occasion ; he will never dream of exposing 
 himself or his family to the deplorable conse- 
 quences of an useless defence. I should, for my 
 part, be deeply grieved were any misfortune to 
 happen to the venerable old man, or to any of 
 the princes of his family. In fact, let people 
 say what they will, the Bourbons are not a bad 
 race ; but they are surrounded by those that 
 are. And, were they not so, how can we hope 
 that men born in a court should rise to the 
 level of their times and of circumstances ? They
 
 134 THE CARBONARO. 
 
 can withdraw peaceably to Hartwell, or any 
 other retreat, and leave us to regulate our own 
 destinies. We have no reason this time to fear 
 a coalition of the powers. Europe is now en- 
 lightened by the indifferent success of the 
 second restoration, and has renounced the chi- 
 merical project of subjecting thirty millions of 
 Frenchmen to a government whose feebleness 
 and unskilfulness they despise." 
 
 Collinet, whose confidence was completely 
 restored by this confession of faith, instead 
 of thanking the judge for his extreme pliancy, 
 told him, with an air of easy assurance, that 
 every thing was provided for; that the army 
 was as secure as the people; and that as for 
 foreigners, they cared very little about them. 
 " They dare not stir," said he arrogantly; '* for, 
 thank Heaven ! they have enough of business 
 of their own on hand not to trouble themselves
 
 THE CARBONARO. 135 
 
 with ours. Believe me, sir, there is a mine 
 under every throne in Europe. Their sceptres 
 are worm-eaten : fanaticism and superstition 
 are disappearing like the phantoms of the night, 
 when the bright day appears. Yes, our regene- 
 ration will be complete, glorious, eternal ! As 
 to ihe Bourbons, in whom you seem to take a 
 lively interest, in which I confess I do not 
 participate, their insignificance is their best 
 protection." 
 
 •' What I said," returned the judge, " about 
 the safe conduct that should be given to the 
 Bourbons, was much more for humanity's sake 
 than for theirs. You will allow that that in- 
 terest ought to be held sacred by all the friends 
 of freedom." 
 
 Their conversation ended here, for the judge 
 was in a hurry to expedite the order for their 
 enlargement. Collinet, on receiving it, thanked
 
 136 THE CARBONARO. 
 
 him coldly, and with an air of dignity. As for 
 Mitton, on quitting the prison, he leaped for 
 joy, and swore devoutly that no one should ever 
 catch him in another. 
 
 M. Dusellier, who had failed in his objects 
 remained pensive and mortified. Nothing can 
 be more humiliating than the situation of a 
 man who has betrayed his trust ; and instead 
 of receiving the reward he expected for his 
 meanness, is treated by those whom he sought 
 to serve with indifference or contempt.
 
 THE CARBONARO. 137 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 Nothing but the most urgent cause could 
 have induced Noirval to leave the farm-house 
 of " Our Lady of the Rock," aud to expose to 
 the hazard of a journey, in her precarious con- 
 dition, a young lady in whose safety he took so 
 lively an interest. But the information he had 
 received admitted of no delay. He was told 
 that if his retreat was not discovered, the per- 
 sons who were in quest of him had reason to 
 suspect that he was in the neighbourhood of
 
 138 THE CARBONARQ. 
 
 Versailles ; and that such was the extreme ac- 
 tivity of their search, in a short time it would 
 be impossible for either himself or his com- 
 panion to escape it. Determined to get to a 
 distance from his late residence as quickly as 
 possible, without exposing the life of the female 
 that he conducted, he travelled all night across 
 the country ; nor did he halt until break of day, 
 when he stopped at a little inn in the outskirts 
 of a village about six leagues distant from the 
 capital, and on the high-road to Orleans. 
 Before proceeding farther in the direction of an 
 asylum the prospect of which was held out to 
 him in that quarter, he deemed it best to confer 
 with the personage who had shared with him 
 for a long time in the grand business with 
 which so many, interests were connected, He* 
 set out for Paris about night-fall, mounted on 
 the horse that had drawn the car, after leaving
 
 THE CARBONARO. 139 
 
 strict orders to his groom to allow no one what- 
 ever to have access to his sister, from whom 
 his absence was concealed. The people of the 
 house imagined that he was only gone in order 
 to procure a doctor that lived in the neighbour- 
 hood. 
 
 Noirval alighted about ten o'clock at one of 
 the houses in the Faubourg St. Marceau ; it 
 was the abode of a foreign nurseryman, whose 
 address had been sent him. He knocked at 
 the door, and when it was at length opened, he 
 presented a card, on which were marked the 
 letters P. M. N. C, and was immediately ad- 
 mitted, and conducted to a green-house at the 
 foot of the garden. A parcel of frames piled 
 up on the floor of the building concealed the 
 'entrance to a cellar, the spiracles of which 
 opening into an old cart-shed, were covered 
 over by clematis and other creeping shrubs.
 
 140 THE CARBONARO. 
 
 In this place a bed had been prepared for 
 him, and the gardener accosting him respect- 
 fully, told him that he was ready to execute 
 the orders that had been transmitted to him. 
 
 Next morning a carriage halted at the house 
 of the nurseryman, from which a lady, fol- 
 lowed by a servant in plain clothes, alighted. 
 She came to purchase flowers, which she often 
 did ; and one of the lads having informed the 
 gardener of her arrival, the latter ran hastily to 
 wait upon her. The lady visited along with him 
 a number of flower-plats ; selected some shrubs, 
 which she had conveyed to her carriage ; and, 
 as the day was fine, she ordered the servant to 
 mount and look after the pots, and bidding the 
 coach drive on, said she should return to town 
 on foot. 
 
 But this lady will act so important a part in 
 the whole of our history, that it is absolutely
 
 THE CARBONARO. 141 
 
 necessary to enter into some details respecting 
 her person, her character, and her rank in life. 
 
 The Countess Stanislas Gradiska was a prin- 
 cess of the house of Sobiuska, and allied, in con- 
 sequence, to the most noble families in Poland 
 and Lithuania; nor did the elevation of her 
 mind belie the dignity of her birth. Inheriting 
 a vast fortune, she was forced by her parents 
 at a very early age to marry Count Gradiska, 
 palatine of Sendomir, a man twenty years 
 older than herself, and who, notwithstanding 
 her beauty, neglected her for the company of 
 an old mistress. 
 
 The youthful countess, irritated rather than 
 jealous, determined to quit his society for ever ; 
 and as the lapse of time produced no alteration 
 in her resolution, a few years after their sepa- 
 ration the pair by common consent took ad- 
 vantage of the singularly accommodating spirit
 
 142 THE CARBONARO. 
 
 of the Polish Catholic church, and were re- 
 gularly divorced. The palatine took another 
 wife immediately, but the countess preserved 
 her independence for the rest of her life. 
 
 The first use she made of it was to visit Italy. 
 Admiration of the fine arts made her linger for 
 nearly a year at Rome, and for six months at 
 Florence; after which, from a curiosity of 
 another description, she came to visit Paris. 
 The language and the literature of France were 
 familiar to her; and she longed to inspect 
 narrowly a nation at once warlike and witty, 
 trifling and formidable, whose name, during 
 every period of history, has been famous 
 throughout the world, and which was then 
 making the continent tremble with the terror of 
 its arms : it was at the period of Napoleon's 
 marriage with Maria Louisa that she arrived in 
 the capital of France. The countess was then
 
 THE CARBONARO. 143 
 
 in the splendour of her youth and beauty ; and 
 her understanding was not less excellent than 
 her figure was fascinating. The dignitary 
 who had in charge to arrange the household of 
 the new empress, offered her the situation of 
 lady in waiting, well assured that Bonaparte, 
 with whose views on Poland he was acquainted, 
 would approve of such a choice ; but she cut 
 short the negotiation by a reply not less proud 
 than dignified — 
 
 •* 1 am the wife and the daughter of a noble- 
 man — I will not become a servant." 
 
 This expression was not reported to the 
 emperor, who would not have passed it over. 
 He knew her personally, and he had displayed 
 a marked respect for her from the period of a 
 long conversation that he had had with her at 
 one of his drawing-rooms. It was after that
 
 144 THE CARBONARO. 
 
 conversation that he was heard to observe — 
 " That fierce Sarmatian has the soul of a man :" 
 a high compliment from a prince who knew 
 nothing of gallantry, and who expressed on all 
 occasions, and without periphrasis, his opinion 
 of the comparative inferiority of the female sex. 
 The judgment formed by the countess of Bo- 
 naparte was so just and so concise, that its 
 express terms have not been forgotten. *' 'Tis 
 a pity," said she, ** that he lacks generosity ; 
 he would be a hero else." We are inclined to 
 believe that impartial posterity will come to 
 the same conclusion as the Countess Gradiska ; 
 but our object in giving it here is to elucidate 
 her character, not his. In her person the 
 countess was tall and elegantly formed; but 
 what specially distinguished her among her fair 
 countrywomen was the dignity of her presence ;
 
 THE CARBONARO. 145 
 
 in respect of which, she might have been wor- 
 thily described in the words of Virgil, Incessu 
 patuit dea. 
 
 The sentiment that her appearance generally 
 inspired, was admiration mingled with respect. 
 The regularity of her features left nothing to 
 be desired ; and yet the statuary would rather 
 have taken her for a model than the painter for 
 a study. The expression of her countenance 
 was pensive and thoughtful ; and an attentive 
 observer might have marked in the slight, but 
 distinctly defined depression between her eye- 
 brows, the traces of habitual reflection. The 
 natural expression of her eyes was sweet 
 merely ; but when she became animated, they 
 flashed with all the lightning of genius. 
 
 Nature, by a special favour, had granted her 
 an exception from the failings of her sex : 
 she was neither vain, envious, nor giddy ; and, 
 VOL. I. G
 
 146 THE CARBONARO. 
 
 what is even more extraordinary, she was 
 indifferent to dress, and despised coquetry as 
 a girlish amusement unworthy of a woman of 
 understanding. The victories to which she 
 aspired were indeed of a more elevated cha- 
 racter ; and wholly occupied with high poli- 
 tical interests, and seeking to influence the 
 destinies of nations, she aimed less at touching 
 hearts than ruling minds. 
 
 The energy of her soul was not less remark- 
 able than her understanding was comprehen- 
 sive : her resolutions were strong and steady ; 
 and having once pledged her word, no sacri- 
 fice ever kept her from redeeming it. Natu- 
 rally generous and beneficent, she despised 
 money ; and she had contracted a taste for 
 magnificence, from the almost eastern habits 
 of the great lords of her native country ; but she 
 was far, like many of them, from allowing it to
 
 THE CARBONARO. 147 
 
 draw her into wasteful or ridiculous expenses, 
 that could only terminate in the abandonment 
 of character : her pride not less than her pru- 
 dence made her an economist. To those who 
 observed the air of indifference with which the 
 countess contemplated occurrences to which 
 the common run of people attach so much 
 importance, she appeared cold even to insensi- 
 bility ; but the change that the recital of a 
 generous or noble action operated on her coun- 
 tenance was miraculous. Her eye sparkled 
 with heavenly fire; her cheek flushed, and her 
 whole soul seemed filled with the sentiments 
 that had prompted the act which she was 
 admiring. Once, and once only, she yielded to 
 the influence of love. During her first resi- 
 dence at Rome, among the host of adorers 
 whose homage her beauty attracted, she had 
 singled out a young Swede of superior under-
 
 148 THE CARBONARO. 
 
 standing and splendid courage ; but the instant 
 she discovered that the dignity of his senti- 
 ments did not correspond to the nobleness of 
 his figure, her nascent afifection passed away, 
 without leaving any more trace of its existence 
 * than the flame that is severed by the sword 
 ^ does on the polish of the steel. Soon after 
 this, indeed, another passion, the love of her 
 country, absorbed the whole faculties of her 
 soul ; and Poland, her native land, trampled 
 under foot and parcelled out among strangers, 
 was thenceforth the constant subject of her 
 thoughts. 
 
 " Alas !" exclaimed she, with a republican 
 eloquence worthy of a matron of Sparta or 
 of Rome ; ** is it then true that the descend- 
 ants of the fierce Sarmatians, of those warriors 
 by whom Vienna was saved and Moscow con- 
 quered, now bend under the yoke of Austria
 
 THE CARBONARO. 149 
 
 and of Russia? And, to fill up the measure of 
 our humiliation, has Prussia, our vassal, a pro- 
 vince dependant on our crown, taken a part 
 in the bloody spoliations of our conquerors ? 
 Save that of the dispersed and expatriated Jews, 
 there exists not in the world a fate so forlorn 
 as ours ! Had the chances of war compelled 
 us to submit to the arms of a victorious enemy, 
 a general and spontaneous insurrection might 
 have burst our chains. The history of the 
 Genoese, and their expulsion of the Austrians, 
 may show us what, in such circumstances, a 
 small and weak people can effect. But they 
 retained their integrity as a state ! What can 
 our now disunited and disintegrated fragments 
 effect? Their most energetic movements are 
 but the convulsive throes that the galvanic 
 pile excites in the members of an inanimate 
 corpse !"
 
 150 THE CARBONARO. 
 
 Such were the patriotic complaints of the 
 countess : but her character was not one that 
 exhausts itself in sterile wishes ; for while 
 there remained the slightest shadow of success, 
 resignation appeared in her eyes an inexcusable 
 act of cowardice. Feeble therefore as were her 
 hopes, she had never renounced them. It is 
 true she did not participate in the illusion of 
 many of her countrymen when, seduced by Ihe 
 fallacious promises of Napoleon, they imagined 
 that they beheld in him the restorer of their 
 independence ; and when he fell, she ap- 
 plauded the dispensation as a just punishment 
 of his unmeasured ambition and heartless per- 
 fidy. At the restoration of the monarchy she 
 indulged a hope that the deliverance of Eu- 
 rope would bring with it the deliverance of her 
 country ; but that hope was speedily abandoned. 
 The Holy Alliance, even while proscribing
 
 THE CARBON ARO. 151 
 
 future partitions, confirmed by their sanction 
 those that had already taken place ; and they 
 went farther in their contempt of sacred rights, 
 "when, despite of the lawful appeals of an 
 alarmed people, they offered up the republic 
 of Genoa as a living sacrifice to a chimerical 
 balance of power, the nature of which it 
 was impossible for the most acute to dis- 
 cover. 
 
 After such an abuse of their power, how was 
 it possible to expect the re-establishment of 
 Poland from the generosity of the allied sove- 
 reigns ? It was evident that there remained no 
 chance for that unhappy country, but in such a 
 universal rising as should shake the thrones 
 and rouse up the nations of Europe, and once 
 more put all their interests on the hazard of the 
 throw. But what were to be the disorders ! 
 what the wars ! what the calamities of every
 
 352 THE CARBONARO. 
 
 kind that must infallibly result from such a 
 moral earthquake ! Humanity shuddered at 
 the bare contemplation of them. But no consi- 
 deration of such probable mischiefs could check 
 the countess ; who beholding in the whole 
 world but one subject worthy of regard, and 
 that subject her country, was resolved to brave 
 all chances for the purpose of serving it. She 
 did not shut her eyes to the difficulties nor the 
 dangers of the task ; but she was determined 
 to risk her fortune, her repose, her life, if 
 called on ; and the greatness of the sacrifice 
 that she was prepared to make silenced every 
 scruple that she might otherwise have felt in 
 respect to the morality of its object : — an error, 
 by-the-bye, which is extremely common to 
 persons of bold and enterprising disposition, 
 who are constantly disposed to imagine that 
 the dangers which accompany their projects can
 
 THE CARBONARO. 153 
 
 bestow legality even on those that common 
 justice disavows. 
 
 As soon as the Countess Gradiska had taken 
 this extreme resolution, she began to look on 
 herself as in a position of hostility with all 
 established governments ; and bending her mo- 
 rality to her inclinations, she bestowed on her- 
 self, if we may so express it, general letters of 
 marque against them, from the idea that any 
 thing was allowable provided it annoyed the 
 enemy. She began by a rigid examination of 
 the elements of discord and revolution that 
 existed in different countries of Europe; and 
 she did not fail to discover that, in spite of the 
 longing for repose which is generally percep- 
 tible after agitations so long continued, there 
 were every where to be found a number of 
 individuals whose interests or whose hopes had 
 suffered by its creation, and who ardently
 
 154 THE CARBONARO. 
 
 wished for the destruction of the existing order 
 of things. These she perceived to exist in dif- 
 ferent proportions in different countries, and 
 she saw that they were no where more nume- 
 rous than in Italy, where, as every information 
 tended to show, they were ripe for revolution. 
 It was in Italy that the countess had passed 
 the first two or three years which succeeded 
 the congress of Vienna. She visited first 
 Venice, then Milan, Rome, and Naples ; in all 
 of which cities the result of her observations was 
 uniform, — that in that fine country the govern- 
 ments of the various states were not tyrannical, 
 and therefore were not hated ; but that of the 
 whole of them the administration was weak and 
 lightly esteemed, in consequence of the ultra 
 notions of liberty unfortunately cherished by 
 the very small proportion of the community that 
 had either skill or means to judge of them.
 
 THE CARBONARO. 155 
 
 In the north the leaden sceptre of Cim- 
 bria weighed down the Lombards ; and the 
 harshness of her Teutonic forms seemed so 
 much the more intolerable, that the ame- 
 nity of the French had in some measure 
 atoned for their injuries : but apart from this 
 local feeling-, the general sentiment that per- 
 vaded the peninsula was a longing for inde- 
 pendence, and a desire to shake off the yoke 
 imposed on it by foreigners. The re-establish- 
 ment of the integrity of Italy once presented 
 to the imagination, along with all that train of 
 glorious recollections which the grandeur and 
 power of ancient Rome inspired, it may be 
 easily conceived how such a noble but chimeri- 
 cal anticipation might seduce the hearts of the 
 generous, and convert the most peacefully dis- 
 posed into the boldest of innovators. But 
 were it to be truly inferred from this general
 
 156 THE CARBONARO. 
 
 concurrence of opinion, and from the small 
 energy of the Italian governments, that the 
 latter were destined to crumble at the first 
 shock, it would by no means follow that the 
 revolution which was then contemplated was to 
 be either solid or permanent in its results. The 
 Italian character is violent and irascible to 
 madness ; but it is as easy to quench as to kindle 
 its fury. Though bold and hardy in a mere 
 tumult, they are soon subdued by the appear- 
 ance of a disciplined corps ; and those who 
 sport with stilettoes tremble at a bayonet. 
 Lastly, which is the most fatal circumstance 
 in the prospects of Italian independence, the 
 regular army of the interior are not less capa- 
 ble of withstanding a foreign force than their 
 unarmed countrymen are of withstanding them. 
 Events )iave proved this ; and such events did 
 not astonish the Countess Gradiska, nor those
 
 THE CARBON A RO. 157 
 
 who, like the Countess Gradiska, had a thorough 
 knowledge of Italy. A considerable time pre- 
 vious to the Neapolitan revolt she had de- 
 termined to recross the Alps, convinced that it 
 was in France only there was a chance of find- 
 ing suflScient intellect and energy, and such a 
 nursery of soldiers, as was requisite for the 
 renovation of Europe. 
 
 It was in vain that the patriots of Naples, 
 with whom she had been connected, endea- 
 voured to retain her among them. " Archi- 
 medes," said she, one day, in that figurative 
 but uninflated style which marks for the most 
 part an elevated mind, "asked for a fixed point 
 from which to move the world : the point is 
 found — it is at Paris. There must be placed 
 the fulcrum of the lever that is to work the 
 changes we call for ; here, the ground is not 
 solid enough : traversed in every direction by vol-
 
 158 THE CARBONARO. 
 
 canoes, it contains within it sufficient seeds of 
 combustion, but we walk upon an abyss the 
 while. Should some sudden and terrible shock 
 cast down all that at present stands fast, what 
 fruit would the present generation of men de- 
 rive from the work of destruction ? They would 
 be swallowed up or ruined ; and how many 
 ages must pass away until the lava stream be- 
 came fit for vegetation, or a crop covered its 
 surface ?" 
 
 On her arrival in Paris, the countess adopted 
 a judicious plan of conduct, and one in perfect 
 accordance with the dignity of her character. 
 Steering a middle course between the extremes 
 of imprudence and dissimulation, she refused 
 to meet, unless in secret, the members of com- 
 mittee, the director, or the heads of the liberals, 
 to whom she had letters ; but at the same time^ 
 even in high society, instead of applauding
 
 THE CARBONARO. 159 
 
 declamation in favour of arbitrary power, which 
 was then so much the fashion among persons of 
 the court and of fashionable life, she used to 
 ask with an air of wonder, how it had hap- 
 pened that the ancient regimey so much boasted 
 of and so deeply regretted, had not strength, 
 suflScient strength, to maintain its position. 
 
 One circumstance gave her great facilities in 
 preserving that kind of seeming neutrality, 
 which concealed the most active measures of 
 hostility against the government. She happened 
 to be resident in Warsaw when Louis XVIII. 
 was there in 1801. She was then very young 
 (she was not quite eighteen); but she was 
 already distinguished by her beauty and her 
 wit, and was considered one of the principal 
 ornaments of the capital of Poland. The little 
 French court testified their gratitude towards 
 her, for the lively and open indignation that
 
 16Q THE CARBQNARO. 
 
 she .manifested on v the occasion of a cowardly 
 attempt, which had nearly, succeeded, to poison 
 the august exile. The prince also knew the 
 countess ipersonally; he had often met her at 
 the table of her aunt, the Lady Grand-Marshal 
 of Lithuania; and he had been affected by the 
 marked deference that she paid to him, com- 
 pared with the habitual boldness of her manners 
 and languag-e. The homage which she felt a 
 pride in rendering to the venerable chief of the 
 Bourbons sprung out of the feeling of com- 
 miseration naturally excited in a noble mind by 
 the misfortunes of royalty ; but it was easy for 
 Loiiis to confound that exalted sentiment with 
 the attachment of party, which so many strangers 
 displayed towards his cause ; and she was in- 
 debted to this mistaken notion for the kindness 
 that the emigrants constantly showed her, both 
 during the exile or after the restoration: a
 
 THE CARBONARO. 161 
 
 kindness which protected her moreover from the 
 suspicions, to which the connexions that she 
 had formed in Italy with men whose opinions 
 were more than suspected might have sub- 
 jected her.. When her conduct was casually 
 blamedy she was invariably excused on the 
 ground of her attachment to the arts and lite- 
 rature ; for it was a fatal singularity of the 
 times, that the most forward of the advocates 
 of revolutionary novelty were the artists, the 
 scholars, the wits, — in a word, the whole of the 
 intellectual men of the peninsula. 
 
 In France, her interviews with those persons 
 who in mutual concord with her were labour- 
 ing to overthrow the government, were con- 
 ducted with the utmost secrecy ; and they 
 generally took place at the nursery to which 
 we adverted at the commencement of this 
 chapter, and of which a Polish gardener was
 
 162 THE CARBONARO. 
 
 the proprietor. This man's name was Riuski ; 
 he was born on the lands of the family of So- 
 biuski, and was the son of the head gardener of 
 the chateau. At a very early age, the uncle 
 of the countess, having found him an intelligent 
 lad, took him into his service, and made him 
 his attendant during his travels. Riuski ever 
 after continued attached to the count's house- 
 hold. With him he boldly shared all the 
 dangers of the civil war that followed the 
 famous confederation of Bar : of which patriotic 
 league, worthy of more success than it met 
 with, the Count Sobiuski was one of the chiefs. 
 When it was put down, the latter, with many 
 of his companions in misfortune, came to Paris, 
 where he sought, in the bustling life of a vo- 
 luptuous capital, to find relief against the 
 melancholy thoughts which the subjection of 
 his country inspired. The sacred fire of liberty
 
 THE CARBONARO. 16S 
 
 was not however quenched in his noble soul, 
 and he was on the eve of rejoining the illus- 
 trious Kosciusko, when a mortal disease seized 
 his frame. He was not forgetful in his last 
 will of his faithful servant : he left Riuski a 
 considerable sum, which he laid out in the 
 purchase of a bit of marsh-ground in the Fau- 
 bourg St. Marceau, on which he again betook 
 himself to the occupation of his fathers ; and his 
 business was in a prosperous condition when 
 the countess arrived at Paris. That lady took 
 a strong interest in the brave man who, in more 
 than one rencontre, had hazarded his life to 
 defend that of her kinsman ; and, with her 
 wonted generosity, she advanced to him funds 
 to purchase a piece of land that was required 
 to enlarge his garden. This service affected 
 Riuski deeply ; but had she wished to command 
 his utmost services, or to dispose of his life,
 
 164. THE CARBONARO. 
 
 she needed not the tie of personal gratitude for 
 that purpose. He entertained towards her, or 
 more properly, towards her family, that kind of 
 humble devotedness, of which the traces have 
 ceased to be perceptible in the western states 
 of Europe ever since the destruction of the 
 feudal system, unless perhaps amongst the 
 mountain clans in the Highlands of Scotland, 
 or among the slaves of an indulgent master 
 in the Antilles. The sort of dependence to 
 which we allude is absolute, and the submis- 
 sion it inculcates is blind ; and yet the yoke 
 which might appear so heavy, is not the less 
 ardently cherished. 
 
 There can be no question that this senti- 
 ment, which is one of great force and of abso- 
 lute permanency, springs out of the servile 
 condition of those who entertain it ; yet, not- 
 withstanding the baseness of its origin, it is
 
 THE CARBONARO. 165 
 
 impossible not to acknowledge that its elements 
 are both noble and interesting. Far from being 
 inspired by fear or by interest, it inspires into 
 its possessors a courage that despises all sacri- 
 fices, that braves all dangers, and that not 
 unfrequently participates of genuine heroism. 
 
 The countess disposed of the house ofRiuski 
 as its absolute mistress ; she did not even deem 
 it necessary to inform him of the motives that 
 induced her to do so ; she merely commanded 
 him to be secret as to what passed there, well 
 knowing that she would be mere faithfully 
 served in that respect by her old servant, than 
 if she had committed her important charge to 
 the keeping of the most illustrious hands, 
 though influenced both by the principles of 
 honour and the feelings of friendship.
 
 166 THE CARBONARO. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 The young man, whom the Countess Gra- 
 diska had come to the mansion of the nursery- 
 man for the purpose of visiting, has as yet 
 been known to our readers under the name of 
 Noirval ; but it is now time to inform them of 
 what they must ere this have suspected, that 
 he had assumed a fictitious name only to escape 
 from the inquiries of which he was the object. 
 Hitherto appearances have presented him 
 under rather a disagreeable aspect ; but, before
 
 THE CARBONARO. 167 
 
 proceeding to his condemnation, it is but just 
 to make due allowance for the extraordinary 
 circumstances that decided his fate. They are 
 not devoid of interest, insomuch as they con- 
 nect themselves with events of no mean import- 
 ance. In giving an account of them, we shall 
 not, though entering on our task at considerable 
 length, seek to extenuate his faults ; we shall 
 detail facts with all the impartiality that History 
 has a right to demand, although the historian 
 but rarely obeys her behests. It is not un- 
 likely, after being made acquainted with the 
 irresistible fatality which at last sunk this un- 
 fortunate young man in the abyss of ruin, that, 
 notwithstanding his passionate violence, which 
 was, however, redeemed by a noble and gene- 
 rous nature, and by qualities of the heart as 
 high in their order as were the endowments of 
 his understanding, the reader will be inclined
 
 168 THE CARBONARO. 
 
 to conclude that he was as much victim of his 
 ill fortune as of his crimes. 
 
 Count Jerome de la Cesia was a descendant 
 of one of the most ancient families in Lom- 
 bardy ; the principal property of his house was 
 however situated in Piedmont. Left an orphan 
 at an early age, he was reared under the tute- 
 lage of his uncle, an old general in the army 
 of Sardinia ; and by him he was placed in the 
 college of Pavia. Nature had bestowed on 
 young Cesia a wonderfully retentive memory, 
 and not less judicious than retentive : his pro- 
 gress in every department of study was great, 
 and he soon left most of his fellow-competitors 
 behind him. He excelled in bodily as much 
 as in mental exercises ; and from his boldness, 
 activity, and vigour, he was the leader in every 
 sport, and in every enterprise that asked for 
 its accomplishment, either courage or address.
 
 THE CARBONARO. 169 
 
 In consequence of these qualifications, he soon 
 gained over his companions that species of 
 authority, which is almost involuntarily yielded 
 to acknowledged merit, whenever it is found 
 in an energetic and impetuous character. It 
 must be admitted, at the same time, that he 
 had more abettors than friends, for he was 
 eager to master it on all occasions ; jealous 
 of the slightest contradiction, and never for- 
 gave the smallest offence. His ardour and 
 perseverance in defending those who declared 
 for him, and whose interests he maintained 
 with even more warmth than he did his own, 
 were, it must be added, as great as was the 
 opposition he displayed towards his enemies. 
 
 At the age of eighteen De la Cesia had 
 
 passed through the whole of the classics ; he 
 
 was intimately conversant with Latin and 
 
 Greek, and French he knew as familiarly as 
 
 VOL. I. H
 
 170 THE CARBONARO. 
 
 his native tongue ; his progress in mathematics 
 had not been so great as his uncle, who had 
 served with approbation in the engineers, and 
 who intended that his nephew should also be a 
 member of that corps, desired. The artillery 
 of Piedmont, we may remark, has at all times 
 been excellent. The wishes of the young count 
 were not in accordance with those of his rela- 
 tion : his lively and brilliant imagination ren- 
 dered the dryness of the exact sciences a 
 subject of invincible repugnance to him : he 
 was, besides, fond of horses, and had become a 
 skilful sword-player under the tuition of an 
 able master; an art that requires as much 
 power as activity : he therefore requested a 
 commission in the cavalry in preference ; but, 
 as his request was not backed by his uncle, it 
 met with a refusal. From that moment he 
 renounced the profession of arms ; and shortly
 
 THE CARBONARO. 171 
 
 after he left Pavia for Naples, in order to 
 arrange some pecuniary affairs with a relation 
 of his mother, who held an important office at 
 that court. 
 
 Rome lay in his way, and he stopped there 
 for some time. The splendour of its modern 
 edifices affected him less than the magnificence 
 of its ancient remains. Those imposing ruins, 
 which attest to all times the greatness of the 
 former masters of the world, redoubled the 
 zeal that he felt for the cause of liberty, the 
 sacred source of so many wonders and so much 
 power; and he vowed in the bottom of his 
 heart, and he registered the solemn vow in an 
 ode which became highly popular, that he 
 would devote himself to her holy cause. His 
 talent for lyric poetry was indeed great; and 
 though his lines were not without faults, yet 
 the fire, energy and elevation of thought that
 
 172 THE CARBONARO. 
 
 they displayed, and the sublimity to which 
 they not unfrequently rose, more than redeem- 
 ed their defects. Such at least was the opi- 
 nion of one of the strangers then at Rome 
 — we mean Lord Byron, at that time a very 
 young man, but whose nascent fame never- 
 tlieless had already attracted great attention ; 
 who, notwithstanding his retiring character, 
 was anxious to be introduced to the author of 
 a poem for whom he felt a secret attachment, 
 founded on a similarity of character that was 
 very strongly marked. 
 
 Cesia, indeed, as was his lordship, was full 
 of noble sentiments, often degenerating into 
 pride : he had the same bold and comprehen- 
 sive but irregular intellect ; the same contempt 
 of common prejudices, pushed to the neglect 
 even of customary decencies ; the same bold 
 scepticism in respect of matters the most sacred ;
 
 THE CARBONARO. 173 
 
 and both these presumptuous young men, by a 
 very ordinary mistake, had confounded a pas- 
 sion for absolute and unmodified independence, 
 which is an unattainable chimera, with the 
 worship of genuine and practicable freedom. 
 There was, however, an important distinction 
 in their respective tempers, arising perhaps out 
 of the different elements in which they had 
 been born and reared. Both were keenly sus- 
 ceptible of insult ; but, in Lord Byron, a dig- 
 nified feeling of contempt speedily quenched all 
 purpose of revenge. The Italian, on the con- 
 trary, was as implacable as he was vindictive, 
 and he sought to justify the permanency of his 
 resentment by maintaining, that he who could 
 forget an insult, was incapable of being grate- 
 ful for a favour. 
 
 Lord Byron, at the time of which we are 
 treating, was on the eve of setting out for
 
 174 THE CARBONARO. 
 
 Greece, where a few years afterwards he was 
 destined to terminate his career, and he was 
 anxious for the count to accompany him thither. 
 The latter declined the invitation with regret 
 on account of indispensable business which 
 detained him at Naples, but he promised that 
 the moment it was expedited he would join his 
 friend . 
 
 It was in the capital of the Two Sicilies that 
 Cesia first united himself with the heads of the 
 famous Carbonari, who have for so long a 
 time agitated Italy and disquieted the whole of 
 Europe. The object at first was both just 
 and legal ; — it was limited to the relieving of 
 the country from the hypocritical tyranny of 
 Napoleon. The organization was powerfully 
 and skilfully combined ; but it was with sorrow 
 that the young count perceived that fanaticism 
 and superstition were the principal springs of
 
 THE CARBONARO. 175 
 
 their political association ; and yet, what other 
 means could be found for stimulating or allur- 
 ing a people at once credulous and fearful ? He 
 had now been about six months in Naples, and 
 no prospect of a grand movement had yet pre- 
 sented itself; and the private business which had 
 attracted him thither was far from being termi- 
 nated. Wearied out therefore with the tardy 
 progress of both, he invested a celebrated lawyer 
 with full jx)wers to settle the latter; and in- 
 fluenced by a passion for travel, the first long- 
 ing of superior minds, he left his friends to 
 settle the former, while he passed the Alps for 
 the purpose of visiting Switzerland and the 
 north of Germany. 
 
 This was in the commencement of 1813. 
 The terrible Russian campaign had deci- 
 mated the armies of France, and given to the 
 long-oppressed Germans an opportunity, and
 
 176 THE CARBONARO. 
 
 inspired them with a hope of recovering that 
 independence which they had fought but feebly 
 to defend. For more than two years previous, 
 throughout all the states of the Rhenish confe- 
 deration, secret societies under the direction of 
 bold and skilful leaders had been preparing men's 
 minds for the struggle. The principal focus of 
 these patriotic clubs was in the great universities, 
 to which, from time immemorial, thousands of 
 young men from all parts of the country were 
 in the habit of having recourse for the finishing 
 of their education. The professors were in- 
 deed at the head of the plots. They substi- 
 tuted in lieu of the ordinary course oi ectures 
 a species of instruction which every age listens 
 to with avidity — the doctrine of resistance to 
 oppression ; they exhibited a revolt against the 
 French as a moral obligation, and insurrection 
 as the most imperious of duties. There was
 
 THE CARBONARO. 177 
 
 ou this occasion no scruple to alarm their 
 timorous consciences : their object was not an 
 attack on legitimate government : on the con- 
 trary, by overthrowing the existing tyranny, 
 they delivered at once the sovereign from his 
 thraldom, and restored independence to the 
 subject. What noble and powerful motives to 
 action ! — to avenge insulted national honour 
 — to punish humiliating and harassing domina- 
 tion — to place the lawful crown once more on 
 the head of its virtuous and venerated owner ! 
 So impelled, it may be supposed the unanimity 
 of the German scholars was equal to their zeal. 
 The moment that the signal was given, the 
 warlike and enthusiastic youth rose as one man, 
 threw aside their books, and rushing to arras, 
 hurried along with them by their patriotic ex- 
 ample the whole population both of the country 
 and of the town. That rising forms a solitary
 
 178 THE CARBONARO. 
 
 feature in history ; never before had men treading 
 the peaceful walks of literature, grave doctors, 
 whose appointed task it was to moderate the 
 violence and to restrain the headlong passions 
 of youth, been seen changing all at once their 
 sedate profession, stimulating the ardour of 
 their disciples, and combating and conquering 
 at their head. 
 
 It is a very old observation, and one of which 
 every day's experience proves the truth, that 
 in all grand popular movements there exists a 
 communicative power, as real as it is inex- 
 plicable, which influences the spectators to take 
 an active part in the events of which they are 
 witnesses. This species of attractive sympathy, 
 which springs doubtless out of the spirit of 
 imitation common to all animated nature, is 
 sometimes so powerful as to subjugate the will, 
 and to suspend the exercise of reflection ; and
 
 THE CARBONARO. 179 
 
 such was the feeliug that young Cesia expe- 
 rienced in the contemplation of that tumultu- 
 ous agitation of an entire people intoxicated 
 with hope, and on the eve of snatching back 
 their plundered rights. Too keenly affected to 
 remain inactive while the struggle for liberty 
 was at hand, the count determined to become 
 the associate of so glorious an enterprise : he 
 requested admission into the battalion of Berlin 
 students ; and his lofty presence, his fine figure, 
 and his martial air, notwithstanding his foreign 
 birth, procured him an immediate and pressing 
 welcome. In a very short time his superior 
 intelligence and enterprising zeal gained for 
 him the confidence of the chiefs of the party. 
 He served in the foremost rank of the grena- 
 diers in the memorable battle in which the 
 French, who were menacing the city of the 
 great Frederic for the second time, were finally
 
 180 THE CARBONARO. 
 
 repulsed. The action was warm and murder- 
 ous ; repeated bayonet charges took place 
 during its continuance ; and recruits without 
 discipline — the young Prussians we mean, found 
 in their exalted patriotism a courage and power 
 that enabled them to resist those formidable 
 veterans who had triumphed over the most 
 warlike legions of Europe. In the midst of the 
 melee, Cesia, who was active as he was bold, 
 had the good fortune to save the life of his 
 captain. The captain was a professor more 
 skilled in handling the pen than in handling 
 the sword; but the exploit cost the count 
 dear, for he received a severe wound, which 
 for several days placed his life in danger. 
 One of the young princes of Prussia, who 
 was witness of this brave action, untied the 
 iron cross from his neck, and presented it to 
 the young Italian, along with the brevet of a
 
 THE CARBONARO. 181 
 
 commission ; but the count accepted of the for- 
 mer only ; and taking advantage of an opportu- 
 nity when he could retire with honour, he 
 quitted the army never more to join it. It was 
 not that his principles were changed, but his 
 warlike ardour was effectually cooled. Who is 
 there that in the heyday of his youth has not 
 felt the seductive influence of a military habit ; 
 the magical effects of a brilliant uniform of 
 splendid arms ; and above all, of those warlike 
 airs, those spirit-stirring marches, which rouse, 
 electrify, and agitate young hearts ? But once 
 in the army, once fairly in the field, how nume- 
 rous are the discomforts ! Toil, bad weather, 
 the listless and wearisome bivouac, privations 
 of every description ; and for those who love 
 reading and study, that worst of all priva- 
 tions, want of books, to say nothing of the 
 petty details of a subduing and monotonous
 
 182 THE CARBONARO. 
 
 service, that soon serve to render disgustful a 
 career, which at first sight presented nothing 
 but danger, and the laurel crown by which it is 
 followed. It was not these causes alone that 
 determined La Cesia to quit the standard of 
 the coalition. In his leisure moments, and when 
 meditating on the morality of his undertaking, 
 he had put the question to his conscience, and 
 that severe judge had told him that nothing 
 could justify the shedding of blood but a case 
 of legitimate defence. This idea, which is so 
 conformable to the precepts of natural j ustice, 
 had presented itself to his mind on more than * 
 one occasion from the opening of the campaign, 
 but it excited scruples that terminated in no- 
 thing. It required for his conviction some 
 stronger argument, and the pain resulting from 
 his wound finished what philosophy had begun : 
 we are seldom truly sensible of our faults until
 
 THE CARBONARO. 183 
 
 we sufter from their consequences. The re- 
 mainder of the year had elapsed before the 
 count's recovery was completed. In the follow- 
 ing summer he quitted Berlin for Vienna, 
 where he arrived at the moment when the 
 allied sovereigns, on their return from the me- 
 morable march to Paris, had assembled in con- 
 gress to lay down rules for the future regula- 
 tion of Europe. His noble birth gave him 
 admission to the highest circles of that capital, 
 where nobility alone can enter ; and his merits 
 and his agreeable manners rendered him a 
 favourite when introduced. It was at this 
 period that he became acquainted with the 
 Countess Gradiska, whose beauty he admired, 
 and whose elevation of sentiment and com- 
 prehensiveness of understanding gained an 
 entire conquest over him. He then for 
 the first time imagined that the dreams of his
 
 184 THE CARBONARO. 
 
 imagination were about to be realised ; that 
 he had at length found in one and the same 
 person that miraculous combination of perfec- 
 tions of every kind which he considered alone 
 worthy of his homage, and which he had 
 hitherto sought in vain. He attached himself 
 in consequence to the countess, and seriously 
 laboured to gain not less her love than her 
 esteem. She was flattered by his attentions. 
 She was wont to receive with a sort of disdain- 
 ful indifference such as was paid to her by the 
 idle young men that abound in all great towns^ 
 with whom gallantry is their sole business, and 
 who make seduction their trade ; but she had too 
 much discernment to confound the noble Italian 
 with such. The qualities that distinguished 
 him, his superiority of judgment, his brilliant 
 and fertile imagination, his settled and delicate 
 taste, all these she could justly appreciate ; and
 
 THE CARBONARO. 185 
 
 her interest in Lim increased when she per- 
 ceived the grandeur of his views and the con- 
 stancy of his character. There was besides 
 between them that conformity of opinions and 
 of sentiments on things essential, which pre- 
 disposes to friendship : in perfect accordance 
 on political topics, both were passionate lovers 
 of freedom ; both detested absolute power ; and 
 both equally detested equality. The latter 
 system they considered to be alien to human 
 nature, which, in creating differences so pal- 
 pable both in the moral and physical world, 
 could never, have intended, they concluded, to 
 bestow on mankind a perfect parity of rights. 
 They allowed that justice required that these 
 rights should not be abused any more by supe- 
 riority of talents than by superiority of physical 
 power ; but they contended against the absurd- 
 ity of permitting an ignorant person or a fool
 
 186 THE CARBONARO. 
 
 to have a legal right of administering the affairs 
 
 of state, when it was obvious that, in order to 
 
 direct such complicated matters aright, so 
 much knowledge and so much talent were 
 
 absolutely requisite. This doctrine may be 
 disputed, and probably will be for a long time 
 to come; and we may add, that should man- 
 kind at any future period agree as to its prin- 
 ciples, the probability is that as many new 
 discussions will arise out of the mode of their 
 application. We pretend not to settle these 
 weighty matters ; it is enough for us to observe 
 that greater concessions could hardly be ex- 
 pected from a grandee of Poland whose lands 
 were cultivated by serfs, and from a feudal 
 lord who but a short time before had still 
 retained his vassals. The prejudices of our 
 birth, the mode of our education, our position 
 in society, all tend, without our perceiving it,
 
 THE carbo:naro. 187 
 
 to modify the sentiments and opinions of the 
 most generous hearts and the most comprehen- 
 sive understandings. Whatever justice there 
 may be found in the common observation in 
 respect of the Italian count and the Polish 
 countess, what was probable did not fall out. 
 A reciprocal esteem produced, it is true, a very 
 intimate connexion between them ; but love 
 had no part in their intimacy ; and for the 
 simple reason, that there existed not between 
 them that secret and inexplicable sympathy 
 which binds the heart, and not unfrequently 
 the reason, according to its capricious will. 
 This the countess declared to La Cesia with 
 the frankness that characterised her ; adding, 
 " I know that you deserve an undivided attach- 
 ment, and my affection towards my country is 
 such that I cannot offer you but the second 
 place in my affections." Cesia had too much
 
 188 THE CARfiONARO. 
 
 pride not to forget his love when the proffer 
 was so refused, at the same time that the 
 enthusiasm of the countess in favour of free- 
 dom kindled up all his ancient ardour in the 
 pursuit of it. He entered into a league, deter- 
 mined to serve along with her that cause which 
 in both their eyes had hitherto triumphed but 
 by halves : they mutually swore fidelity to each 
 other ; assumed the endearing titles of brother 
 and sister ; and, we may add, that never was 
 any connexion formed by blood more tender nor 
 more durable. From that moment they hardly 
 ever quitted each other's company ; and the 
 public, which was completely deceived as to the 
 nature of their connexion, set it down as a 
 matter of certainty that it was a love intrigue 
 that bound them, as it had bound so many 
 before them. A small portion of the commu- 
 nity, not so much given to believe evil of their
 
 THE CARBONARO. 189 
 
 neighbours, seeing them both free, both equal 
 in birth, and in every respect suited to each 
 other, both in fortune and years, imagined that 
 they had entered into a marriage which they 
 did not find convenient to declare. But the 
 affectionate dignity on the one hand, that the 
 countess maintained towards him, and on the 
 other the behaviour of Cesia towards her, which 
 were too cold for a lover, too tender for a 
 husband, in a short time completely bewildered 
 their conjectures. 
 
 In the mean time, mighty events were suc- 
 ceeding each other with rapidity. Napoleon 
 had left the island, but two days' sail from our 
 coasts, and close to those of Italy, to which he 
 had been so inconsiderately relegated ; the 
 torrent of the hundred days had swept over 
 France ; the allied sovereigns, who had scarce 
 got over the terror caused by the sudden over-
 
 190 THE CARBONARO. 
 
 turn of that restoration which they had be- 
 lieved to be so firmly consolidated, had drawn 
 tighter the bonds of their union. Conquerors 
 at "Waterloo, their only consideration was to 
 guard themselves against democratical attacks, 
 from which no country is wholly exempt ; and 
 they put off, in consequence, to an undefined 
 period, the performance of those promises made 
 in the hour of trial to the people whose gene- 
 rous efforts had saved their crowns. In respect 
 to states previously partitioned or previously 
 annexed, such for instance as Poland, Venice, 
 the whole of Austrian Italy, they were for once 
 and all rased from the list of independent 
 states. In the condition in which Europe was^ 
 placed, the politicians of congress argued that 
 prudence, nay safety, and a regard for their 
 preservation, imperiously called on them not to 
 deprive themselves of any means of defence ; for
 
 THE CARBONARO. 191 
 
 whatever was given up, it would not fail to 
 augment the power of the revolutionists. 
 Strengthened by such reasonings, there was 
 nothing that did not seem allowable and legiti- 
 mate ; for it is well known that the morality of 
 courts, like the religion of hypocrites, is of a 
 very accommodating character. 
 
 In this state of things the countess de- 
 termined to quit Vienna, where her stay was 
 useless, so far as the accomplishment of her 
 grand projects was concerned ; and she accord- 
 ingly set out for Italy, whither La Cesia ac- 
 companied her. He had at first thought of 
 visiting Prussia, where liberal ideas were more 
 widely diffused, and of a much higher order 
 than in the south of Germany, and where the 
 connexions that he had kept up had assured 
 him that a portion of the army even had been 
 shaken; but he saw that these plans were not
 
 192 THE CARBONARO. 
 
 sufficiently extended or matured to offer any 
 present prospect of success ; while in Naples 
 and in Lombardy, and even in Piedmont, the 
 revolutionary party was much more intimately 
 bound together, and the time much more op- 
 portune. It was in Italy therefore that, in 
 concert with his friend, he set himself to la- 
 bour with as much activity as perseverance to 
 insure the success of a conspiracy, to the ex- 
 tent of whose ramifications the recollections of 
 mankind have preserved no parallel. In fact, 
 it extended from Cadiz to Edinburgh ; and 
 passing through Paris, it touched Berlin in the 
 north, and Vesuvius in the south. In the east 
 it penetrated Poland; and the insurrection 
 which, about the same period, broke out in the 
 Russian guards, proved that it was not unfelt 
 even in the most remote and isolated quarters 
 It forms no part of our plan to give a detail ol
 
 THE CARBONARO. 193 
 
 the great events of that memorable period 
 of incredible and short-lived success to the 
 revolutionists. Nor shall we attempt to de- 
 scribe the sombre and threatening aspect that 
 the political horizon at that period presented: 
 Spain in flames, from the Pyrenees to the 
 Columns of Hercules : the whole of the middle 
 of Italy in a state of insurrection: England 
 agitated by the plans of the radicals ; and her 
 unbridled population, in their blind fury, break- 
 ing and destroying those machines which con- 
 stituted her wealth ; while others, associating in 
 thousands under the Dame of ** Blanketeers," 
 were marching on the alarmed capital: Ger- 
 many, where fanaticism was whetting the knives 
 of devoted assassins : France covered with plots, 
 insulated it is true, but all having relation to 
 a common centre — the malcontents in the east 
 scarcely disguising their criminal exultation — 
 VOL. I. I
 
 194 THE CARBONARO. 
 
 the army doubtful — the administration irreso- 
 lute and disunited — the monarch feeble and 
 dying: in a word, that vague but universally 
 diffused uneasiness which, like the wind that 
 precedes the storm, announced some mighty 
 but undefined commotion. It will be the task 
 of the historian to represent to our descendants 
 those scenes of a drama so replete with change, 
 the denouement of which was at length happily 
 brought about by the famous discharge of 
 artillery on the Bidassoa. Our task is limited 
 to the description of the part that La Cesia 
 took in these events. He was at Naples when 
 the revolution broke out. He was connected 
 with the chiefs of the patriotic band ; and yet 
 he was astonished at the smallness of the efifort 
 necessary for the completion of the insurrection- 
 ary movement that overturned the absolute 
 government there. The Spanish constitution,
 
 THE CARBONARO. 195 
 
 which was known only by name, was proclaimed 
 without opposition ; only that in lieu of cortes, 
 a parliament was summoned that exercised 
 supreme authority. The capital, the provinces, 
 were equally submissive; yet was the discontent 
 universal, though the numerous lodges of the 
 Carbonari, under the direction of a central 
 committee {alta vendita), stopped short, by the 
 terror they inspired, the expression of the popu- 
 lar dislike ; and no opposition presented itself 
 to the armed force at their command, except 
 on the opposite side of the Straits. But though, 
 contemplated from within, the Neapolitan revo- 
 lution appeared suflSciently consolidated, from 
 without a powerful enemy had sworn its de- 
 struction. Austria judged well that her do- 
 minion in Italy would be imminently compro- 
 mised, should any thing like liberty be esta- 
 blished in a powerful neighbouring kingdom ;
 
 196 THE CARBONARO. 
 
 and the statesmen who directed her councils 
 decided that it was essential at all hazards to 
 destroy in the bud this evil example. It was 
 with this view that the congress of Laybach 
 was summoned ; and with this view did Austria 
 seek to inspire into the allied monarchs her 
 own fears, while she was assembling a powerful 
 army in her hereditary dominions in order to 
 put down their cause. In the mean time, the 
 forces which Naples had to oppose to her were 
 by no means despicable, at least in point of 
 numbers. Fifty-four thousand soldiers, all well 
 disciplined, had assembled under the regular 
 standard of the revolutionists ; and there were 
 not less than seventy thousand of militia to 
 guard the passes of the precipitous mountains 
 which divide the middle of Italy from the one 
 sea to the other. There were besides several 
 battalions of volunteers ; some bearing the name
 
 THE CARBONARO. 197 
 
 of Brutii, others of Hirpini, and others of Sam- 
 nites, names famous in the pages of history, but 
 which, when so misapplied, only rendered more 
 conspicuous the weakness of those that had adopt- 
 ed them. In spite of these elements of resist- 
 ance, Cesia was far from feeling assured when he 
 considered the incredible weakness which those 
 same troops had displayed under the command 
 of the notorious Mack, and still more recently, 
 when no less than eighty thousand Neapolitans 
 had fled and disbanded before an enemy very 
 inferior in numbers, notwithstanding every 
 effort of their king, a soldier of fortune, but 
 whose talents, it is true, were not at all equal 
 to his courage. He concluded that the only 
 means of preserving independence in the south 
 of Italy was to produce a diversion in the 
 north formidable enough to alarm Austria, 
 and to confine her efforts to the safety of her
 
 198 THE CARBONARO. 
 
 own possessions. Such a measure was a bold, 
 but b}? no means a rash one : the following de- 
 tails will enable our readers to form a judg- 
 ment of it. Authentic information had re- 
 cently been received from Turin by La Cesia, 
 that the Piedmontese army, still animated with 
 that military ardour which had given it the 
 foremost rank in the armies of Napoleon of 
 all the nations that he had treated with or 
 subjugated, consisted of more than sixty thou- 
 sand effective men, comprehending in that 
 number those contingents which were bound to 
 join immediately on being summoned ; and that 
 out of this number not more than eight days 
 would be required to bring at least twenty 
 thousand into the field, fully equipped for a 
 campaign, and properly supplied with artillery. 
 Now were this vanguard, it was concluded, to 
 pass the Tesino, and to advance by forced
 
 THE CARBONARO. 199 
 
 marches on the Milanese, where the garrisons 
 had been imprudently reduced, it was obvious 
 that they would drive every thing before them, 
 pass the Adda and the Mincio unopposed, 
 mask Mantua and the whole line of the 
 Adige. It was admitted that an isolated 
 division could not maintain themselves for any 
 length of time in so advanced a position, but 
 the mass of the Piedmontese army would 
 speedily join ; and besides, it was more than 
 probable that the population of those provinces 
 which bore with most impatience the yoke 
 of the Austrians would join their deliverers. 
 Could such an insurrection be pushed as far as 
 Venice, then the whole of Italy was saved. 
 There is no military man who is ignorant that 
 that great city, which in the midst of her im- 
 pregnable lagunes could never have fallen but 
 by an act of political suicide, possesses the
 
 200 THE CARBONARO. 
 
 right of a position, of which Genoa, which 
 within her triple line of defence could main- 
 tain an entire army, holds the left ; while the 
 higher Alps, stretching along the whole of the 
 frontier with their icy ridges, form a natural 
 rampart against the incursions of barbarians. 
 " Yes," cried the count, in a fit of patriotic 
 enthusiasm, ." five millions of Italians from the 
 left bank of the Po, incited and exasperated 
 by oppression, may still brave the descendants 
 of the Huns and of the Goths. 
 
 " But in the mean time no time is to be 
 lost," he went on : " the Austrians are in full 
 march : it will no longer be time to assume the 
 defensive, if you once allow them to conquer 
 and subjugate the lively and irascible but 
 energetic population of the middle provinces, 
 whose hearts and whose courage a voluptuous 
 climate has softened and enervated."
 
 THE CARBONARO. 201 
 
 Such was his language to his associates ; and 
 next day he set out in order to hasten the ex- 
 plosion of the insurrectional movement that 
 was preparing in Piedmont, where he knew 
 the fermentation to be extreme. The intention 
 manifested by Austria to employ her influence 
 in the other cabinets, and, if need required, to 
 place Naples by force under the yoke of des- 
 potism, had roused against that power the anger 
 of every friend of national independence ; but 
 when the stipulations which the emperor im- 
 posed on the kings of Sardinia and of the Two 
 Sicilies not to grant any concession to their 
 subjects, were made known, the exasperation 
 surpassed all bounds. Here was in fact an 
 Austrian monarch seeking to rivet the chains 
 of Italy, while at the same time he. treated her 
 princes as his vassals. Thus every man regarded 
 him as a personal enemy, who was to be op-
 
 202 THE CARBONARO. 
 
 posed to the death. In order to execute so ha- 
 zardous a resolution, the whole disposable power 
 of the people was inadequate, and the concur- 
 rence of the existing government was therefore 
 indispensable ; yet, as it was foreseen that the 
 monarch who held it would not voluntarily 
 consent to adopt hostile measures against his 
 ancient ally, it was determined to proceed with- 
 out his consent; and the insurrection was in 
 consequence decided. The rising would have 
 been universal if they had complied with the 
 wishes of the ardent reformers^ who were 
 anxious for the triumph of pure democracy, 
 and were not deterred by a similar attempt 
 to that which had cost France, and without 
 the slightest advantage, so many tears and so 
 much blood. 
 
 Happily this party was the less numerous 
 that the king was generally beloved and re-
 
 THE CARBONARO. 203 
 
 spected, and the immense majority of his sub- 
 jects in consequence were not unwilling to 
 continue his power under restrictions analogous 
 to those that had been adopted in other states. 
 Of the constitutions to which they looked for a 
 model, that of the English had in its favour 
 the advantage of long and glorious experience ; 
 but the young officers who had entered into the 
 conspiracy, and who, being masters of the 
 soldiers, were masters also of every decision 
 that was come to, preferred the work of the 
 Spanish army, whose conduct they imitated, to 
 any thing in the nature of mere political com- 
 bination. Besides, that constitution had been 
 adopted at Naples ; and a conformity in that 
 respect appeared likely to contribute to the 
 success of the Italian federation. The conse- 
 quence was, that the liberals, who desired a 
 pure republic, refused to expose themselves to
 
 204 THE CARBONARO. 
 
 the caprice of a parcel of inconsiderate youths, 
 as they were well aware how precarious an 
 affair representative monarchy must be when 
 not strengthened by its indispensable prop, a 
 chamber of peers. 
 
 While Cesia was traversing the Roman 
 states and Tuscany, on his route to Turin, 
 the insurrection burst simultaneously forth in 
 various points of the Sardinian territory. On 
 arriving at Alexandria, he saw floating above 
 the formidable ramparts of that citadel, before 
 which so many thousands have perished, the 
 tri-coloured flag of green, red, and blue, the 
 ancient colours of the kingdom of Italy, and 
 the index of the object at which the insurgents 
 aimed. The count halted but a few hours, for 
 the purpose of conferring with the officers of 
 the revolted garrison, and then pursued his 
 route to the capital ; in which, and not in the
 
 THE CARBONARO. 205 
 
 provinces, the fate of states is ordinarily de- 
 cided. The position of Piedmont, at this criti- 
 cal moment, was extremely singular ; nor does 
 History, in all the strange events that she has 
 handed down, present any example precisely 
 analogous. Piedmont had no less than four 
 distinct supreme authorities ; between which it 
 was no easy task to select one to whom obe- 
 dience was a lawful service. The king, Victor 
 Emanuel, who was firm enough to oppose the 
 demands of the insurgents, and too honourable 
 a man not to refuse what he was determined 
 not to grant, yet at the same time without 
 suflScient resolution to embark in a struggle, 
 the issues of which were doubtful, and could 
 not fail to be attended with bloodshed, had 
 abdicated, and in the absence of the natural 
 successor to his throne, had delegated his 
 powers to that prince who, in default of his
 
 206 THE CARBONARO. 
 
 brother and himself, was to mount the throne. 
 The Prince of Genoa, the heir-presumptive in 
 question, had not accepted of the succession 
 thus proffered to him, yet had he published a 
 proclamation which in its form had all the 
 authority of a royal decree. At the same 
 time, there was a junta nominated, or rather 
 called imperatively forth, by the voice of the 
 nation, which the power that appointed them 
 compelled the regent to recognise, and which 
 in fact exercised all the functions of the execu- 
 tive. Here were at the same moment two 
 kings, a regent, and a popular committee. It 
 is almost unnecessary to ask what could spring 
 out of such a chaos. 
 
 The denouement wsis not slow in its approach. 
 The wonderful times in which we live, and 
 which are so fertile in extraordinary events, 
 present perhaps no picture more singular than
 
 THE CARBONARO. 207 
 
 the submissive apathy of the existing genera- 
 tion to the dominion of the bayonet. In the 
 space of seven years, we mean from 1815 to 
 1821, no less than four nations had given 
 a memorable example of this scandalous weak- 
 ness ; had allowed those troops that were en- 
 rolled and paid to defend the laws as well as 
 the country, to overturn the government, and to 
 do so as unceremoniously as the pretorian bands 
 of old, and in more modern times the Strelitz 
 were wont to do, when deposing an emperor 
 or a czar. Such had been the way in which 
 France, Spain, Naples, and Piedmont, had sub- 
 mitted to be invaded, so to say, and conquered 
 by their own soldiers. 
 
 It is true that many individuals who did not 
 belong to the army took an active part in those 
 revolutions, and endeavoured to give them a 
 national colour by holding them forth as the
 
 208 THE CARBONARO. 
 
 work of the people. But only let us sum up 
 their numbers, instead of listening to their 
 declamations, and we shall find on the one side 
 millions indifferent or opposed to these schemes ; 
 and on the other a few hundreds of students, 
 lawyers, men of letters, and scions of nobility, 
 high in place, or ambitious of being so. Such 
 is the way in which, in the great dramas that 
 are exhibited on the stage of the world, the 
 people are represented. It must be allowed 
 that those who are deceived by it go to the 
 contemplation as they do to that of other 
 plays, with their minds previously made up 
 to be so. 
 
 The military insurrection of Piedmont found 
 as few supporters in the nation at large as the 
 soldiers of other countries had ; but there was 
 this notable peculiarity in the Sardinian army, 
 that the officers, though quite unanimous in
 
 THE CARBONARO. 209 
 
 their resolutions to defend the independence 
 of their country when threatened by Austria, 
 were wholly divided when called on to adopt 
 those extreme measures which circumstances 
 imperiously demanded of them. While some 
 were of opinion that the safety of the country 
 called on them to silence every scruple ; many, 
 and in this latter number were all those 
 who had grown old in the army, looked on a 
 revolt against the prince whom they had sworn 
 to defend as a crime which no pretext of pub- 
 lic utility could excuse ; it was, they j^rgued, 
 as inconsistent with honour, as with their oaths. 
 Such were the sentiments of the governors of 
 provinces, and in general of all the officers of 
 high rank ; and by their means many of the 
 garrisons were kept steady to their duty : nay, 
 even in Turin itself, while the citadel was in 
 the hands of the insurgents, the royal carabi-
 
 210 THE CARBON ARO. 
 
 neers, the household guards, and several other 
 corps, remained steadfast in their loyalty. 
 Affairs were in this perplexing condition when 
 Cesia arrived at Turin. Santa Rosa had just 
 been nominated minister of war ; he was one 
 of the most ardent of the revolutionary party, 
 the fellow-countryman of Cesia, and the friend 
 of his youth ; like him he was a man of dis- 
 tinguished understanding, a warm friend of 
 freedom, and bold even to rashness. He had 
 given a proof of this in an order of the day 
 just published, in which he forbade the army 
 to obey the proclamation of Charles Felix, 
 whose actions, so long as he remained at Mo- 
 dena in an enemy's territory, could not be 
 deemed free, and in which also he promised 
 them the support of France and of Lora- 
 bardy ; a bold promise, but not so wholly un- 
 founded as it appeared. His connexion with
 
 THE CARBONARO. 211 
 
 the malcontents in the east of France had 
 indeed informed him that a ^and movement 
 was in contemplation, which could not fail to 
 promote the revolutionary cause ; and, in fact, 
 on the 20th of March, a day of fatal recollec- 
 tions, an insurrection did take place at Gre- 
 noble ; which, had not the resident authorities 
 shown as much firmness as the soldiers of the 
 garrison, who boldly routed the rebels, showed 
 courage, the former would unquestionably have 
 got possession of the town, and of its castle 
 also. In the Milanese the minds of the public 
 were not less agitated ; and so strongly alarmed 
 were the imperial family there, that prepara- 
 tions had actually been made for the departure 
 of the vice-queen ; and several bands of fede- 
 ralists and of students of the university of 
 Pavia crossed the Tesino, notwithstanding her 
 vigilance, and proceeded to offer their services
 
 212 THE CARBOISARO. 
 
 to the Piedmontese junta. These young men 
 assumed the pompous designation of the " Le- 
 gion of Minerva ;" a goddess who, in their clas- 
 sical enthusiasm they were wont to say, pre- 
 sided equally over the arts, over learning, and 
 arms. 
 
 Their offers were accepted ; they received 
 arms ; and Santa Rosa called on his friend 
 Cesia to take the command of a troop utterly 
 unskilled in war, but full of patriotic ardour. 
 The count did justice to their zeal, and he 
 fully participated in their sentiments; but he 
 would have preferred a command of veteran 
 soldiers, well convinced that nothing can com- 
 pensate for the absence of discipline and that 
 firmness of heart, which experience and the 
 habit of encountering danger can alone bestow : 
 he accepted, however, the charge, from his 
 devotion to the cause.
 
 THE CARBONARO. 213 
 
 It was at this period that the junta, in deter- 
 mining to assume the offensive, formed out of 
 all the troops that obeyed their orders a corps 
 d'armee, for the purpose of opposing the go- 
 vernor of Novara ; who, recognising no other 
 master than Charles Felix, threatened to march 
 upon Turin. It was the more necessary to 
 anticipate the governor's movements, because 
 the news of the check sustained by the Neapo- 
 litans under Pepe at Rieti had in a very sin- 
 gular degree raised the courage of the Aus- 
 trians in the Milanese, and throughout all the 
 districts where revolutionary principles pre- 
 vailed. 
 
 When the insurgent forces were mustered, 
 they amounted to about seven thousand men 
 of every description ; but their commanders, 
 calculating confidently on the defection of the 
 royalists, with many of whose oflScers they were
 
 214 THE CARBONARO. 
 
 secretly in treaty, advanced boldly to the walls 
 of Novara. On the 8th of April, in the morn- 
 ing, they drew up within cannon-shot of the 
 ramparts of that town, and were preparing for 
 a vigorous attack, when they were anticipated 
 by a sally of the garrison. At the same moment 
 the corps of Bubna, which had passed the Te- 
 sino during the night, unexpectedly showed 
 themselves on the left of the Piedmontese, 
 which they threatened to turn. A retreat was 
 in consequence ordered, and was conducted for 
 sometime in perfect order ; but the squadron of 
 dragoons of the queen, which covered the rear, 
 having been driven in by a party of Austrian 
 hussars, the infantry hastily threw down their 
 arms, and the whole immediately disbanding, 
 returned to their homes, and never after 
 dreamed of rejoining their colours. The officers, 
 thus abandoned, took flight in various direc-
 
 THE CARBONARO. 215 
 
 tions ; some took shipping at Geuoa — some 
 passed into Spain — some passed the Alps, and 
 sought shelter in Switzerland ; and others sought 
 refuge in France ; and in the interim the capi- 
 tal, by its representatives, the senate, sent the 
 keys df the city to the Count de la Tour, 
 the Monk of this revolution. Their example 
 was followed by the submission of the whole 
 kingdom. 
 
 So terminated the remarkable episode of the 
 conspiracy of 1821 , the Piedmontese insurrec- 
 tion ; it fell by a single blow. Had the army 
 been unanimous, the moment was so extremely 
 opportune, that they might not only have deli- 
 vered the whole of Italy, and kept the Germans 
 for many a year beyond the Alps ; but the 
 discord that had insinuated itself into their 
 ranks deprived them of all power and conse-
 
 216 THE CARBONARO. 
 
 quence; the great political quarrel of a nation 
 degenerated into a military brawl ; and the 
 insurgents, to use a quaint observation of Mi- 
 rabeau's, did not obtain even the sorry honours 
 of a civil war. De la Cesia commanded the 
 band of youthful federalists in the unhappy 
 affair which we have briefly described ; he 
 conducted himself with his accustomed bravery, 
 but fortune was as unkind to him under the 
 walls of Novara as she had been on the plains 
 of Prussia ; he had been wounded while fighting 
 at the head of the students of Berlin, and he 
 was now wounded a second time, and much 
 more severely, while attempting to rally the 
 followers of Minerva, whom a charge of cavalry 
 had broken. He was carried off the field, 
 where he had been left for dead, by one of the 
 suttlers ; and when he recovered his senses, he
 
 THE CARBONARO. 217 
 
 saw no other means of safety than a journey to 
 the neutral and peaceful territory of Switzer- 
 land. With great labour and difficulty he 
 succeeded in gaining the grand route of the 
 Simplon above Sesto Calenda, at the place 
 where it begins to run along the Lago Maggiore ; 
 but he had not proceeded farther than Arona 
 when excessive fatigue opened his wound again, 
 and he found it impossible to go farther. Hap- 
 pily he found at the foot of the colossus erected 
 to San Carlo Borromeo a fishing-boat, by 
 which he was conveyed to the Austrian port 
 of Laveno. He was, indeed, not more secure 
 there than while under the power of Sardinia ; 
 but he entertained hopes of finding an asylum 
 with the Marquis of Vareze, a noble Comoese, 
 and his kinsman, whose country-house was in 
 the neighbourhood of the port ; nor was he 
 
 VOL. I. K
 
 218 THE CARBONARO. 
 
 deceived. The marquis readily received bim ; 
 and to his generous care Cesia probably owed 
 his life, though it made him lose his happiness 
 for ever.
 
 THE CARBONARO. 219 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 The Marquis Vareze was an old nobleman, 
 who, like many of his countrymen, had never 
 held office, either civil or military. For thirty 
 years his leisure had been consecrated to study, 
 and chiefly to scientific researches into the 
 antiquities of his native town. His literary 
 labours had not been altogether unsuccessful ; 
 it was known at Como that he had published 
 two folio dissertations, of local interest, indeed, 
 but not the less esteemed on that account by
 
 220 THE CARBONARO. 
 
 the erudite of the province. The French 
 revolution had troubled the peaceful current 
 of his life ; nevertheless, from his naturally 
 circumspect and timid character, the marquis 
 had contrived to avoid taking any part in the 
 events that had agitated Italy for the previous 
 twenty years ; during the course of which, the 
 principal object of his policy was to escape 
 as much as possible from the heavy impositions 
 which the successive governments and the 
 different invading armies had laid on the more 
 wealthy proprietors. At the establishment of the 
 Cisalpine republic, he lamented the loss of his 
 title ; but he was much more sensibly affected in 
 witnessing the pitiless destruction of the armo- 
 rial bearings that decorated the entrance to his 
 baronial palace. Under the imperial govern- 
 ment of France his vanity was somewhat con- 
 soled, for the nobility began then to recover a
 
 THE CARBONARO. 221 
 
 portion of their consequence : but the intermi- 
 nable succession of wars entered upon by Na- 
 poleon deprived them of all security. After 
 Napoleon's fall, he could, it is true, promise 
 to himself the enjoyment of a lon^ peace; but, 
 on the other hand, the taxes were becoming- 
 daily more difficult of payment, because the 
 money went regularly to Vienna, and it never 
 returned to enrich the country whence it was 
 drawn. But this common grief was small com- 
 pared with the continual irritation felt by the 
 Lombards, a polished and ceremonious people, 
 from the roughness of the Austrian employes, 
 whose gross and rude manners shocked the 
 delicacy of the nobility, accustomed to the ob- 
 sequious respect of their fellow-countrymen, 
 and to the politeness of the agents of the old 
 government. Thus, when the Neapolitan re- 
 volution broke out, every one put up prayers
 
 222 THE CARBONARO. 
 
 for its success ; but when Piedmont also rose, 
 not a doubt was entertained that the moment 
 of acquiring an independence so ardently desired 
 bad come; and this was the more probable, 
 since the Austrian garrisons, as we have before 
 observed, had been inconsiderately diminished. 
 Secret associations were formed in every 
 quarter, with a view to co-operate in the 
 great work. The most zealous of the com- 
 mittee of Como was an intimate friend of the 
 marquis, an active and energetic individual, 
 who exercised a powerful and habitual influence 
 over him: yet even he, by all his pressing 
 entreaties, could not prevail on the old man, 
 though he sympathised with their sentiments, 
 to join the conspirators. All that he could 
 obtain, and that was on the express condition 
 that the donor should not be named, was a 
 considerable sum of money destined to pay the
 
 THE CARBONARO. 223 
 
 first levies. The supply was not ample enough, 
 and funds were still wanting. Such a case 
 happens not unfrequently, in similar circum- 
 stances, even in rich countries; for men are 
 always more ready to venture their heads than 
 to hazard their purses. Their ill-timed parsi- 
 mony in the present instance, joined to the 
 pusillanimity of some of the heads of the con- 
 spiracy, made the revolutionists lose much pre- 
 cious time; and the viceregal archduke, who 
 had already taken measures for abandoning his 
 capital, recovered his courage : the Piedmon- 
 tese insurrection was put down, and the oppor- 
 tunity was lost to the Lombards for ever. 
 
 When the Marquis of Vareze first heard of 
 the defeat at Novara, he was along with his 
 daughter, a young girl of eighteen years of 
 age, of rare merit and exquisite beauty, at 
 Blevio, at a country-house situated on the
 
 224 THE CARBONARO. 
 
 banks of the Lake of Como. He perceived at 
 once that the submission of the Piedmontese 
 had decided the fate of Lombardy, and he 
 bitterly repented having yielded to the en- 
 treaties of his friend. Already he beheld him- 
 self denounced, pursued, condemned, as guilty 
 of high-treason against the emperor. It was 
 while he was a prey to these alarms that he 
 received the billet of Count de la Cesia ; and 
 his first movement was to refuse the asylum he 
 requested. 
 
 " Read that letter, Thomasine," said he to 
 his daughter, ** and judge whether, under my 
 circumstances, I should receive under my roof 
 one of the leaders of the insurgents; people 
 in that case would not scruple to believe that I 
 had been leagued with them." 
 
 " Heaven will not permit so benevolent an 
 action to be turned to your prejudice," replied
 
 THE CARBONARO. 225 
 
 the youDg lady; "and were it even so, how 
 could you abandon your own kinsman, and the 
 son of your best friend ?" 
 
 " True, true," said the marquis, heaving a 
 deep sigh, '* it is a matter of duty, as you say, 
 and I must perform it ; but if I do receive him 
 here, I foresee the consequences will be terri- 
 ble." 
 
 *' Why those melancholy forebodings ?" said 
 his daughter, taking affectionately the old man's 
 hand : " how can it be made out a crime to 
 succour a poor wounded man ? Common cha- 
 rity calls on us to do as much ; and are they 
 not Christians who would reproach us with the 
 performance of so meritorious an act?" 
 
 The character of the marquis was feeble and 
 timorous, but he was a humane and good man ; 
 and his generous feelings thus appealed to by the 
 exhortations of his daughter, he determined to
 
 226 THE CARBONARO. 
 
 receive the count ; and he sought at the same 
 time to persuade himself that there was less 
 danger in doing so than he had at first ima- 
 gined. He immediately despatched a confi- 
 dential messenger with orders to conduct La 
 Cesia to the chateau with all the care that his 
 condition required. When the servant arrived 
 at Laveno, he found the condition of the young 
 count highly alarming : the heats, which in that 
 climate come on early, had so affected his 
 wounds, that already had gangrenous spots 
 appeared in the cut in his thigh, and the 
 surgeon who dressed it declared that it would 
 require several weeks of absolute repose before 
 he would be able to walk ; he even added, that 
 he would in all probability be a cripple for life. 
 Notwithstanding these terrible prognostics, La 
 Cesia having announced his determination to 
 remain no longer in the inn where he had
 
 THE CARBONARO. 227 
 
 alighted, he was placed on a litter, and in the 
 evening of the next day he arrived at the palace 
 of the Marquis Vareze, He did not arrive a 
 moment too soon : the excessive fatigue he had 
 undergone, joined to great anxiety of mind and 
 much bodily pain, had rendered his illness very 
 serious; and on the night of his arrival he was 
 seized with a fever of a very violent nature. 
 The first attack was severe, and the patient 
 soon became delirious under its continued in- 
 fluence. On beholding these alarming symp- 
 toms, all the other fears of the marquis were 
 absorbed in the danger of his youthful kins- 
 man ; he sent express for the most able surgeon 
 that was to be found in the district : he placed 
 himself by the couch of the patient, which, 
 until the crisis was past, he seldom quitted ; and 
 his amiable daughter was not less assiduous in 
 her attentions. Thomasine had been reared
 
 228 THE CARBONARO. 
 
 in the habit of doing good by a virtuous and 
 charitable mother; and her attentions towards 
 the sick had in them that delicacy and continu- 
 ousness of which only women have the secret. 
 It seemed, however, as if the disorder were 
 not destined to yield either to attendance or 
 medicine ; and on the fifth day it assumed so 
 alarming an aspect, that it was thought pru- 
 dent to call in the consolations of religion to 
 the sufferer. The count was now insensi- 
 ble, exhibiting hardly a sign of life; and as 
 fears were entertained lest he should expire 
 during the night, the priest and Thomasine 
 spent it in prayer, while the marquis, who was 
 tormented by the gout, retired to his chamber. 
 Towards morning a favourable crisis appeared ; 
 and after some convulsive shiverings, La Cesia 
 uttered a deep sigh and sat up in his couch : 
 the strength of his constitution had triumphed
 
 THE CARBONARO. 229 
 
 over his malady. On opening his eyes, he cast 
 them in wonder over the large and unknown 
 apartment in which he found himself, and be- 
 held by the feeble light of a lamp that burned 
 below it a young female kneeling before an 
 image of the Virgin, her hands clasped together, 
 and her looks raised to heaven, in the attitude 
 of fervent prayer. Seated near her in an old- 
 fashioned elbow-chair was a venerable monk 
 attentively perusing his breviary, while the 
 youthful chorister that accompanied the holy 
 man slept soundly and calmly with his head 
 resting against the bed. La Cesia was endea- 
 vouring, but in vain, in his confused recol- 
 lections, to discover some connexion between 
 these various objects and the events of the 
 few previous days ; (for there remained on his 
 mind no very distinct traces of any thing that 
 had happened, save the passages of the battle
 
 230 THE CARBONARO. 
 
 of Novara and its fatal consequences, which 
 the pain of his wound sufficiently kept him 
 from forgetting,) when Thomasine perceived 
 the happy change that had taken place, and, 
 turning to the priest, hastily exclaimed — 
 
 " See, father, he lives — he recovers — Heaven 
 has heard our vows !" 
 
 There was in Thomasine's voice that inex- 
 pressible sweetness which moves and charms 
 the hearts of the coldest ; and the young count, 
 it may be supposed, did not hear it without 
 emotion. 
 
 " Consoling angel !" exclaimed Cesia : " thou 
 that prayest for my welfare, whence comes 
 that lively interest that thou deignest to take 
 in my welfare ?" 
 
 A slight blush overspread the cheeks of the 
 young maiden as she replied to this exclamation. 
 " You are unwell," said she; ** you are my
 
 THE CARBONARO. 231 
 
 kinsman ; and are we not all of the same 
 great family ? But you must be calm ; the 
 slightest emotion may prove fatal to you. I 
 am going to call my father, who will be most 
 happy to find you restored to life." 
 
 At these words she left her chamber; and the 
 count collecting his scattered senses succeeded 
 at length in recollecting the circumstances that 
 had conducted him to the chateau of the Mar- 
 quis Vareze. 
 
 The fever left him that day, and did not 
 return ; but the wound in his leg was so deep 
 that it kept him for several weeks confined 
 to a sofa. The marquis meanwhile conti- 
 nued to lavish his attentions on him ; but they 
 were no longer paid from a sentiment of huma- 
 nity merely, he had conceived a real affection 
 for his young guest, in whom he perceived 
 a highly-cultivated and acute understanding.
 
 232 THE CARBONARO. 
 
 combined with sentiments worthy of his exalted 
 birth. The chamber of the invalid had been 
 turned into the parlour of the chateau^ and 
 thither Thomasine accompanied her father in 
 his visits to his youthful friend. Cesia, who 
 at first had been struck by her beauty, had now 
 an opportunity of becoming acquainted with 
 the qualities of her mind, and of perceiving 
 that they were not inferior to her personal 
 charms. He soon discovered also that her 
 understanding had been carefully cultivated. 
 This advantage she owed to her excellent 
 mother, a woman of distinguished merit, who 
 had received her education in France, and who 
 had filled up the leisure of a country life by 
 bestowing a solid, and at the same time a 
 varied education on her daughter. In the 
 midst of the gay simplicity natural to her years, 
 it was not indeed difficult to perceive the marks
 
 THE CARBONARO. 233 
 
 of superior reason ; and her intelligent glances, 
 yet more than her words, served to display the 
 extent of her information. The marked fea- 
 tures of her character were candour and good- 
 ness, united to that benevolence of feeling 
 which leads as naturally to sympathise with 
 the sorrows as with the happiness of those 
 around. On the heart of La Cesia so happy a 
 union of a kind disposition with a person of 
 exquisite beauty made a lively and a deep 
 impression. Never indeed had he experienced 
 any thing similar to the delight that he felt 
 when she was by. The happiness of gazing on 
 her, of listening to her voice, seemed to absorb 
 his entire existence; he forgot freedom, the 
 cause of his country, the mighty interests of a 
 whole life ; he not only forgot them, but he was 
 inclined to wonder how they had ever seemed 
 worthy of his thoughts.
 
 234 THE CARBONARO. 
 
 He could not help observing, meanwhile, 
 that his presence at Blevio caused the marquis 
 great uneasiness, especially after his name had 
 appeared in the list of the proscription drawn 
 up by the Piedmontese government, and pub- 
 lished in the official gazette of Turin. 
 
 " Nothing can be kept secret for ever," said 
 the terrified old nobleman to him one day : " we 
 are here surrounded by spies and informers ; 
 and if you are denounced, I have no means of 
 saving you. Set out then the moment you can 
 travel, even though it should cost you some 
 exertion. The territory of Switzerland is at 
 no great distance : I shall give you a confiden- 
 tial guide, who will conduct you by the mountain- 
 road as far as Mendrisio ; or what is still better, 
 we shall get an escort of smugglers for you, 
 who for a very small recompense will see you 
 safely beyond the frontiers." ,
 
 THE CARBONARO. 235 
 
 To this it was impossible to ofifer any objec- 
 tions ; and impelled by a feeling of delicacy, 
 even more than by any prudential motives, 
 Cesia determined to quit, as soon as he possi- 
 bly could, a host whom he was anxious not to 
 compromise. He felt, however, the deepest 
 regret at quitting Thomasine. 
 
 *' Were I," said he to himself, *' but certain 
 of her love, then absence would bring with it 
 less suffering : but to part while in doubt, is 
 insupportable." He determined, therefore, to 
 declare his affection ; and the very next day 
 an opportunity of doing so presented itself. 
 
 About two leagues from Blevio, at an ancient 
 rural seat well known to travellers by the 
 name of Pliny's Villa, there had been recently 
 discovered an inscription respecting the famous 
 intermitting fountain, the description of the 
 singular phenomena exhibited by which, given
 
 236 THE CARBONARO. 
 
 with such exactitude by the Roman naturalist, 
 has come down to our times. The Marquis 
 Vareze, who was a great amateur of anti- 
 quities, was desirous to copy this inscription, 
 and he invited his young friend to accompany 
 him. " The journey," said the old man, " will 
 not fatigue you ; for you can remain in the 
 boat with my daughter, who has been anxious 
 for a long time to take a sketch of that inte- 
 resting building, and you can assist her with 
 your advice." The count accepted this invi- 
 tation with pleasure ; and that same evening 
 they embarked in one of those handsome shal- 
 lops which are used by the residents on the 
 banks of the lakes for the purposes of mutual 
 communication. There is no road near the 
 beach. The terraced gardens, or, where 
 cultivation is impossible, the peaked rocks 
 come down to the very water's-edge, and
 
 THE CARBONARO. 237 
 
 therefore every summer residence has its boats, 
 with their little harbour to shelter them in 
 blowing weather, and their green-painted boat- 
 house in which to lay them up. Two rowers 
 conduct these little barks, one in the bow and 
 another in the stern ; and these boatmen, who 
 are robust, well-made fellows, standing erect, 
 after the fashion of the Venetian gondoliers, 
 bend on their long oars, and handle them with 
 as much vigour as skill. They use no helm, 
 and they traverse the smooth surface of the 
 limpid lake with extraordinary rapidity. When 
 the wind is favourable they make use of a 
 narrow sail, which is hoisted on a mast that 
 can be set up or taken down at pleasure. A 
 table occupies the centre of the boat, round 
 which are placed suitable seats ; while an ele- 
 gant awning, furnished with curtains, protects 
 the passengers from the heat of the sun.
 
 238 THE CARBONARO. 
 
 Thomasine had carried with her her porte- 
 feuille and her pencils ; she had also taken her 
 guitar, for she knew that her father was fond 
 of hearing the sweet tones of her voice. We 
 cannot say that he desired it for the purpose 
 of diverting the listlessness of the voyage, for 
 there is none that affords more pleasure and 
 variety than a sail on the Lake of Como. It 
 does not indeed present the imposing aspect of 
 the Lake of Geneva, where we gaze at once on 
 its vast extent, the smiling knolls that circle 
 round its flowing verge, and the sublimity of 
 the Alps, which form the frame-work of that 
 splendid picture : neither does Como, like the 
 Lago Maggiore, present to us those lovely 
 islets, so famous for their singular palaces and 
 enchanting gardens ; but it has beauties, not- 
 withstanding, that are peculiarly its own. At 
 the first view it is impossible to judge of its
 
 THE CARBONARO. 239 
 
 real extent, because the hills round it, run- 
 ning forward into the lake like so many head- 
 lands, form bays that appear to have no con- 
 nexion one with another ; but this arrange- 
 ment, which diminishes the grandeur of the 
 view, is more than amply compensated by the 
 variety of scenery that is discoverable at every 
 turn. 
 
 The principal of these bays is so surrounded 
 by princely dwellings and country-houses, that 
 its banks have the appearance of the mingled 
 mass of gardens and buildings, that indicates 
 the suburbs of some wealthy and populous city ; 
 but once past the headland, and the appearance 
 of the lake has quite changed its character; 
 the gardens have disappeared, or at least they 
 are no longer continuous, and the whole 
 scene bears a rural aspect. On the shore the 
 hills, though precipitous, are clothed with a
 
 240 THE CARBONARO. 
 
 verdure of never-failing freshness. The naked 
 rock is only seen on the brink of the lake ; and 
 even there the wild fig-trees, with their green 
 shining leaves, and numerous other trees and 
 shrubs, spring forth from every cliff and cre- 
 vice. The summit of the hills is covered with 
 forest timber ; of which, here and there, iso- 
 lated clumps make their appearance on the 
 pasture grounds. 
 
 On the opposite shore, up the slopes that 
 face the sun, are to be found the richest pro- 
 ductions of the temperate zone ; the olive, the 
 vine, the almond-tree, even the citron thrives 
 there, and finds a shelter in the rocks on which 
 it reclines as upon an immense espalier. No- 
 thing can exceed the high cultivation of this 
 part; every where the eye is filled with the 
 signs of easy abundance, and amply remunerated 
 industry : fruit-trees of all kinds spread along
 
 THE CARBONARO. 241 
 
 the walls of the vine-dresser's cottage, and 
 clusters of grapes are seen trailing on its roof ; 
 while half-way up the hills are seen the cellars 
 and press-houses of the proprietor, which serve 
 not only for the purposes of manufacture, but 
 are nicely decorated and painted in lively 
 colours : they furnish the promenader with the 
 most delightful prospects ; and there are held 
 the festivals during the vintage. 
 
 Farther towards the east, at the bottom of 
 an arm of the lake, and sheltered from the 
 ardour of the burning sun, are found the most 
 agreeable of all those habitations that border 
 on the lake, we mean the hamlet of Torno, 
 composed entirely of houses for summer resi- 
 dence, each large enough for the accommodation 
 of a family and of two or three friends. These 
 residences have usually five windows in front : 
 they have two floors, with a rusticated base- 
 VOL. I. L
 
 242 THE CARBONARO. 
 
 ment : the roofs are flat, and the green Vene- 
 tian blinds contrast very prettily with the 
 dazzling white of the stuccoed walls. All 
 these houses have landing-places, which lead 
 to a terrace, raised about twenty feet above 
 the surface of the lake. The little gardens, 
 which are bounded by the waters in front, 
 and by the rapid ascent of the hill in the 
 rear, seldom contain any thing but flowers ; 
 and the walks of the inhabitants are limited 
 to some narrow pathways, that serpentinise 
 among the brushwood. Two of these houses, 
 that greatly exceed the rest in size and in the 
 profusion of their ornaments, were pointed out 
 to the attention of our voyagers. The hand- 
 somest was the Villa Belvidere ; whose garden, 
 which is laid out in the English fashion, is 
 bounded on the edge of the lake by a narrow 
 belt of turf, that winds about its elegant
 
 THE CARBONARO. 243 
 
 margin. There, on a bank shaded by some large 
 weeping willows, whose pendulous branches 
 hung down to the very surface of the water, 
 sat an old man, habited in oriental costume, 
 with a young and beautiful person, apparently 
 his daughter, by his side. He was the recent 
 purchaser of the villa, a wealthy Greek mer- 
 chant, who had prudently withdrawn his head 
 and his fortune from the cruel troubles that 
 wasted his unhappy country, and in this peace- 
 ful retreat calmly waited until the storm fell. 
 There can be little doubt, that in selecting this 
 abode, he was influenced by the resemblance 
 that its features bore to the lovely scenery of 
 the Bosphorus and of the Propontis, of whose 
 praises we so often hear. Indeed, the sky of 
 his native land could not be more serene, nor 
 its waters more pure, nor its temperature more 
 delightful ; he could here enjoy, at the same
 
 244 THE CARBON ARO. 
 
 period of the spring, the tulips and narcissus, 
 to which Constantinople has given her name ; 
 and here he could again hail his old compa- 
 triots, the pale olive, the sombre cypress, and 
 the oriental plane. The dimensions of the lake 
 also differed but little from that of the canal 
 of the Euxine ; and the height of the surround- 
 ing hills was nearly the same. It must be con- 
 fessed that the little rustic church of Torno 
 was not quite so picturesque as the towery 
 mosque, with its airy minarets : yet the revered 
 symbol of Christianity which crowned the former, 
 proclaiming protection without distinction of 
 belief to all mankind, and which assured to the 
 exile that security which is the first of bless- 
 ings, might well challenge comparison with 
 the crescent that blazed above the latter — the 
 safeguard of the ferocious Turk, and the signal 
 of hatred and oppression to all beside.
 
 THE CARBONARO. 245 
 
 On leaving the hamlet of Torno on the left 
 hand, the lake turns abruptly towards the north, 
 a direction which it preserves to the very foot 
 of the Alps; and the prospect in this quarter is 
 terminated by those mighty masses of heaped- 
 up mountains. It is in front of this beautiful 
 piece of water, in one of the bendings formed 
 by its scooped -out shores, between a lovely cas- 
 cade on the one hand and the famous inter- 
 mitting well on the other, that the Villa Pli- 
 niana is situated. Of old, a mansion both of 
 pleasure and of study, it was worthy of the 
 rank and fortune of its owner ; but all that 
 time has now left is one long gallery raised but 
 a short way above the lake, and destined appa- 
 rently for enjo5dng the cool breeze. At one of 
 the ends of this gallery is the muzzle of a colos- 
 sal lion, which has served for an ornament to a 
 fountain, the waters of which are now lost : the
 
 246 THE CARBONARO. 
 
 sculpture of the head is very much admired. 
 These ancient erections have been joined with 
 considerable ingenuity to the modern buildings 
 of a noble Comoese, the Marquis Camaris, 
 who has constructed above the baths, of 
 which some traces are still to be seen, several 
 rooms of handsome proportions, and an elegant 
 portico. The prospect that may be enjoyed from 
 the latter excels any other that presents itself 
 on the whole lake. The extent of the water 
 here seems immense, and the surrounding 
 framework is magnificent. In the extreme 
 back-ground are seen the Rhetian Alps ; and 
 nearer the eye, numerous nameless mountains 
 and hills of unequal heights and various hues 
 serve to embellish the landscape; whilst the 
 labours of men, which appear in the distance, 
 harmonise perfectly with those of nature that 
 surround them. Villages encircled by orchards.
 
 THE CARBONARO. 247 
 
 picturesque spires, palaces of noblemen of 
 splendid architecture, the elegant residences of 
 the wealthy citizens ; finally, woods and meadows 
 with verdure of all shades, rocks, waterfalls, 
 broken grounds, cultured fields whose fertile 
 soil sends up the richest productions, the boat 
 of the fisherman, the barge of the merchant, 
 richly ornamented gondolas skimming, in every 
 sense of the word, over the lightly undulating 
 surface of the lake : all these objects form a 
 combination so delightful, that the most ex- 
 travagant imagination can ask for nothing 
 more. 
 
 The sun was nearly set when the boat of the 
 marquis reached the Villa Pliniana : he landed 
 alone, while Thomasine directed the boat to be 
 pushed off* to a convenient distance for sketch- 
 ing that interesting monument, interesting both
 
 248 THE CARBONARO. 
 
 from the beauty of its site, and from the re- 
 collections associated with it. Having sta- 
 tioned the shallop a little to the westward of 
 the spot where her father had landed, she 
 could command a side-view of the cascade 
 which falls from a rock close to the house; and 
 she could, at the same time, perceive through 
 the arcade of the portico the ancient cypresses, 
 whose lofty and tufted tops tower above the 
 edifice. The point of view was happily chosen ; 
 but she was but little skilled in the art of per- 
 spective, and she was puzzled and displeased 
 in consequence with her labours. 
 
 ** How happens it," said she somewhat im- 
 patiently to La Cesia, who endeavoured to 
 assist her with his advice, ** that one can never 
 render exactly even those objects that affect 
 the imagination in the most lively manner ?"
 
 THE CARBONARO. 249 
 
 ** It is not thus," replied he in an expressive 
 tone, " where the heart is deeply affected ; see 
 here a proof of it. "^ 
 
 While pronouncing- these -words, he hastily 
 traced with the pencil a resemblance of his 
 youthful relation. 
 
 The likeness was admirable. 
 
 " What !" exclaimed she, " this is my por- 
 trait !" 
 
 '• Yes, 'tis yourself," replied the count, 
 casting onThomasine a passionate glance : " but 
 keep the sketch ; I need it not. Your image 
 is here," added he, placing his hand on his 
 heart; "the likeness here is a much more 
 marked one, and it can never be effaced." 
 
 A deep blush overspread the cheeks of Tho- ' 
 masine : the pencil with which she had been 
 drawing hung suspended in her trembling hand 
 while the count went on —
 
 250 THE CARBONARO. 
 
 *' In declaring to you my sentiments at the 
 moment that I am about to leave you, I ask 
 you for nothing ; I know I have no right 
 to do so. I had gazed on you — I had ad- 
 mired your beauty ; but now I know you, and 
 I adore your mind. So many charms, so many 
 perfections would affect the most insensible. 
 If what I have now uttered excite not your 
 anger, deign to tell me so ; I shall carry with 
 me that consolation, and my exile will be so 
 much the less miserable." 
 
 *' It would be impossible to continue my 
 sketch," said Thomasine in a faltering voice ; 
 and rising up, she ordered the boatmen to row 
 for the shore, and to enter the little harbour 
 at the foot of the old gallery. AYhile they 
 were obeying her command, she leaned her 
 head against the mast in silence. The count 
 €igain addressed her in a despairing accent*
 
 THE CARBONARO. 251 
 
 " What ! not one word ? Why, if I have 
 offended you, if you have any aversion for me, 
 not tell me so frankly ? That is the only means, 
 if any means are poss^le, to drive my fatal pas- 
 sion from me. Oh yes, for pity's sake, say that 
 you hate me." 
 
 " I hate !" exclaimed Thomasine eagerly ; 
 *' and begin to hate by hating you ! — you, whom 
 
 ." She stopped, as if alarmed at what she 
 
 had said, while large tears rolled over her 
 blushing cheeks, and choking sighs oppressed 
 her breathing. The count was transported ; 
 and he would have expressed his transport at 
 her feet, had not the boat that moment touched 
 the shore. Thomasine sprung from its bow 
 with the rapidity of a bird, and ran forward to 
 rejoin her father, saying to La Cesia as she 
 left him — " If you should be induced to
 
 252 THE CARBOMARO. 
 
 sketch while waiting for us, you can finish 
 mine ; I shall retain yours." 
 
 The researches of the marquis were finished, 
 and he embarked with hJ3 daughter ; but the 
 breeze was against them, and they were 
 obliged, in order to regain Blevio, to stand over 
 the lake opposite the Villa d'Este. In ap- 
 proaching that palace, which was at that time 
 inhabited by the Queen of England, they heard 
 a loud sound of instruments; and, by-and-bye, 
 two boats filled with musicians put off, pre- 
 ceded by a shallop richly gilded, and tricked out 
 with flags more richly than tastefully; at the 
 stern of which, on a raised seat, sat Caroline, 
 like another Cleopatra ; and, like Cleopatra also, 
 she sat beside her lover. That lover was indeed 
 neither a Caesar nor an Antony, but a person of 
 low rank, formerly one of her domestics ; vulgar
 
 THE CARBONARO. 253 
 
 in features as low in birth, and distinguished for 
 nothing but a tall and athletic form. Thick 
 whiskers covered the half of his face ; and a coat 
 decorated with some order or other, purchased 
 with a small sura of money, but dearly purchased 
 at the same time, had been substituted for his 
 courier's jacket. His hand rested with impu- 
 dent familiarity on the arm of his mistress. 
 Below them sat three of his female relations, 
 women of course of the lowest rank in society, 
 who held the place of maids of honour to the 
 wife of one of the most powerful sovereigns in 
 the world. 
 
 In passing the barge of the queen, the mar- 
 quis and his daughter arose and saluted her 
 respectfully. It was not, however, her person 
 so much as her rank that attracted their ho- 
 mage, which accused the object it was meant to 
 honour. Even the boatmen of their shallop.
 
 254 THE CARBONARO. 
 
 unrestrained by their example, could not be 
 kept from joking in insulting terms, sufficiently 
 loud for the princess's ear, on the scandalous 
 nature of her amours : while Caroline blushed 
 more from anger than from shame. As to 
 La Cesia, he turned his eyes from a spectacle 
 which, in the existing state of his feelings, 
 he could not behold without indignation. He 
 experienced, in fact, a sort of humiliation in be- 
 holding confounded under one common denomi- 
 nation, the basest and most degrading passions 
 of human nature, the grossest pleasures, the low- 
 est debaucheries, and that lively and delicate 
 sentiment which inspires nothing but generous 
 thoughts — that pure and virtuous love which at 
 once exalts and ennobles every faculty of the 
 soul.
 
 THE CARBONARO. '2oO 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 From the period of his visit to the Villa 
 Pliniana, La Cesia's recovery was rapid, his 
 wound closed, and his strength was visibly 
 increasing every hour. Gratified affection (and 
 love is ever gratified when it has hope to feed 
 on) is the best of all physicians. The marquis, 
 without penetrating the cause of this favour- 
 able change, viewed with satisfaction the ap- 
 proach of the moment that he was to be rid of 
 the embarrassment of a guest, whose presence,
 
 256 THE CARBONARO. 
 
 though he was far from regretting that he had 
 received him into his family, had nevertheless 
 occasioned him the most lively uneasiness. As 
 for the count, he experienced a sentiment not 
 altogether opposite : that cure, whose slowness 
 formerly caused him so much impatience, now 
 appeared too hasty, insomuch as it took from him 
 every excuse for prolonging his stay with her to 
 whom he was so warmly attached. Dared he, 
 while he obeyed the call of a rigorous duty, and 
 removed himself from her presence — dared he 
 hope that the impression he had produced in 
 the heart of Thomasine was sufficiently deep 
 not to be effaced by his absence? All that he 
 knew was, that she had not seemed to take 
 offence at his declaration of his love ; but there 
 was a long interval between such a state of 
 mind in his mistress, and that feeling in which 
 he wished her to participate, and without
 
 THE CARBONARO. 257 
 
 which he conceived it impossible for him to 
 endure existence. In this perplexity he sought 
 to renew the conversation that had been begun 
 in the boat ; but, though they met every day, so 
 great was her care to avoid any such an oppor- 
 tunity, that he found it impossible. Scarce 
 could he even catch a glance of her eye ; for the 
 moment that he looked towards her, her long 
 and silken lashes were drawn downward, and a 
 slight carnation passed over her cheek. As- 
 suredly these were not symptoms of indiffer- 
 ence, but they spoke a degree of reserve but 
 ill calculated to satisfy a passionate lover. The 
 truth is, that Thomasine had been as much 
 affected as surprised on hearing the declaration 
 of Cesia. Up to that moment she had never 
 asked of her own heart, whether the interest that 
 she took in the young man's fate had any thing 
 in it more tender than the benevolent commise-
 
 2d8 THE CARBONARO. 
 
 ration that she felt for every one that partook 
 of her cares. She was pleased with his society ; 
 she thought him much more amiable than any 
 other man she had seen ; but in the simplicity 
 of her heart, she was utterly ignorant how very 
 dear he was to her, until the moment when his 
 unexpected declaration unveiled the secret of 
 her bosom to herself. Though astonished and 
 alarmed even at the strength of the sentiments 
 she entertained, she sought not however to 
 combat them, for she saw nothing blamable in 
 their indulgence : yet by an instinctive feeling 
 of modesty, inseparable from innocence, she 
 endeavoured to hide from every eye her mental 
 agitation, and the confusion that it caused her. 
 It had, however, produced so great a change 
 in the whole of her appearance, that any one 
 with the slightest attention might have disco- 
 vered its cause. Her gaiety now, much less
 
 THE CARBONARO. 2oD 
 
 than before, no longer resembled the liveliness 
 of childhood ; her look was much more touch- 
 ing : the expression of her countenance, which 
 no shade had previously clouded, was become 
 pensive, and occasionally absent ; and not un- 
 frequently involuntary sighs escaped from her 
 bosom. With her father her manners were 
 more caressing than usual : she embraced the 
 little orphans, towards whom she acted as 
 mother, more tenderly ; and when prostrated 
 at the altar, her prayers were more fervent. 
 When La Cesia was sick, she had prayed for 
 him ; now that his health was no longer the 
 subject of uneasiness, his name was ever re- 
 curring to her thoughts, and influenced her to 
 beg of Heaven to preserve and to prosper him. 
 In spite of all these marks, the marquis saw 
 not what was passing in the heart of his 
 daughter ; for of all eyes, the least acute are
 
 260 THE CARBONARO. 
 
 those of fathers aDd husbaods ; but he saw with 
 pleasure that the count would be soon in a 
 condition to endure the fatigue of the journey 
 necessary for their mutual safety ; and he was 
 already occupied in preparations for that pur- 
 pose, when one of those Lombard pedlars that 
 pass the Rhetian Alps twice every year for the 
 purpose of carrying to France and Switzerland 
 barometers, cages, and other small wares, hap- 
 pened to arrive at the palace of Blevio, These 
 active and intelligent fellows conduct their 
 petty traffic with such rigid economy, that it is 
 not rare to see them, after a few years, in a 
 condition to build a convenient house, and plant 
 a handsome orchard on the banks of their 
 native lake. The one to which we are now 
 alluding was son to an inhabitant of Torno, 
 who rented some fields belonging to the mar- 
 quis. He asked to speak with his superior in
 
 THE CARBONARO. 261 
 
 private, and when he was alone with him, he 
 told him that be had just arrived from Paris, and 
 that he had undertaken to deliver a sum of 
 money and a letter to the young oflBcer that 
 was concealed in his house. The marquis, 
 alarmed at a secret of so much importance 
 being divulged, and thus confided to a person 
 whose sentiments were unknown, was at first 
 tempted to deny every thing ; but he was soon 
 reassured by the appearance of the young man, 
 whose family were in some measure dependent 
 on him, and he himself conducted him to the 
 count, who had not the slightest expectation of 
 such a communication. 
 
 The subject of it we may describe in a very 
 few words. The recent events in Piedmont, 
 and the destruction, after so feeble a struggle, 
 of the Neapolitan revolution, which was, it was 
 generally affirmed, to arouse the whole of Italy,
 
 262 THE CARBONARO. 
 
 had completely disconcerted the bands of con- 
 spirators who, from one end of Europe to the 
 other, were zealously labouring, although from 
 different motives, to overthrow all thrones, and 
 to open again a way for universal revolution. 
 The Countess Gradiska partook of their vexa- 
 tion ; but as she had placed but little hope in a 
 rash enterprise conducted by persons whose in- 
 capacity she well knew, she was not astonished 
 at the result. She endeavoured, therefore, to 
 support the sunken courage of her companions 
 by pointing to Spain, where the flame of insur- 
 rection burnt daily brighter ; whilst in France, 
 where the fate of Europe was ultimately to be 
 decided, the cause was daily acquiring fresh 
 proselytes. 
 
 In the mean time, the most lively uneasiness 
 agitated the breast of that lady, whose energy 
 of character raised her so much above her sex,
 
 THE CARBONARO. 263 
 
 and we may say above the age in which she 
 lived. She was aware that her youthful friend 
 had served in the ranks of the Piedmontese 
 insurgents, and she dreaded lest his ungovern- 
 able courage should have proved fatal to him 
 in the disastrous rencontre at Novara. Three 
 weeks elapsed before her correspondents in 
 Switzerland and Italy were able to give her 
 the information respecting his fate which she 
 had requested. At length she discovered by one 
 of the emissaries of the Bonaparte family, 
 which had never ceased to keep up active com- 
 munications with the discontented party in 
 France and in Italy, that La Cesia had been 
 grievously wounded, but that he had not fallen 
 into the bands of the victors, because he had 
 been seen some days after the battle in the 
 neighbourhood of the Lago Maggiore. The 
 next courier informed her that he had found an
 
 264 THE CARBONARO. 
 
 asylum in the house of the Marquis Vareze, 
 and she instantly adopted measures for sending 
 him what assistance his condition might re- 
 quire. After some inquiries, a man from the 
 Lake of Como, who had successfully acquitted 
 himself of several similar commissions, was 
 pointed out to the countess: To him she de- 
 livered a hundred napoleons, a letter of credit 
 on a banker at Geneva, and a passport for the 
 count, under the name of Noirval. This 
 document was regularly drawn up with all the 
 stamps and signatures necessary ; and for the 
 greater security, she had the precaution to get 
 it vised by the ambassadors of Austria and of 
 Sardinia ; those very governments by which the 
 person to whom their representatives thus un- 
 wittingly granted safety and protection, had 
 been proscribed ; an additional proof, if any 
 were wanting, that the invention of passports,
 
 THE CARBONARO. 265 
 
 which seems so marvellous in the eyes of small- 
 witted statesmen, while it is extremely trouble- 
 some to the peaceful traveller, has yet the ad- 
 vantage of serving occasionally the purposes 
 of the treasonable conspirator. In her letter 
 which accompanied the remittance, the countess 
 pressed her friend to come to Paris. *' This 
 capital," said the billet, " will very speedily be 
 the theatre of mighty events ; and a character 
 worthy of your courage and of your talents has 
 been set apart for you." 
 
 La Cesia was sensibly affected by the interest 
 in his welfare manifested by his friend, but his 
 views were no longer what they had been ; one 
 single idea had possessed itself of the whole 
 faculties of his soul, and though still faithful 
 to the oaths that he had sworn to his confe- 
 derates, he was no longer capable of fulfilling 
 them. Anxious, hesitating, and uncertain, as 
 VOL. I. M
 
 266 THE CARBONARO. 
 
 to what resolution he should adopt, he at length 
 finished by yielding to the imperious duty that 
 called him to quit Blevio ; although he could not 
 prevail on himself to remove to a distance from 
 it. His affection, however, for one to whom he 
 had given the title of sister, did not allow him to 
 keep that determination concealed from her; 
 and he felt, besides, the want of some friendly 
 bosom, into which he could pour the confes- 
 sion of those sentiments which wholly filled 
 his heart. 
 
 The letter that he wrote on this occasion to 
 the countess, expresses much better than we 
 could do the situation in which this impassioned 
 and impetuous young man then was. It ran 
 thus : —
 
 THE CARBONARO. 267 
 
 To THE Countess Stanislas Gradiska. 
 
 Bletio, Maj, 1821. 
 
 You have discharged towards me, my dear 
 sister, all the duties of friendship, with an inge- 
 nuity of zeal, the secret of which none but 
 women know. It must be allowed that you 
 feel, and can display a more tender and more 
 constant devotedness than we can ; but in love, 
 how superior are we to you ! Would you con- 
 test the point? Is not the energy of our 
 passions naturally and necessarily proportionate 
 to our strength of mind and of character I I 
 speak of that species of love of which I now 
 experience the power. With such love the 
 heart is wholly filled, the mind is exclusively 
 occupied ; it absorbs every faculty of the soul ; 
 every act of the understanding, or of the per- 
 ception, is influenced by its power and devoted
 
 268 THE CARBONARO. 
 
 to its uses; and, like a true tyrant, it. refuses 
 to its victim even the indulgence of his own 
 thonghts. 
 
 Yet how utterly incomprehensible the cause 
 that operates on mankind with such resistless 
 force ! Assuredly, if perfect beauty, united to 
 every mental perfection, were sufficient to in- 
 spire an ardent passion, I should still be cling- 
 ing to your feet ; but you know that a single 
 refusal, and that of the least offensive kind, 
 was sufficient to quench the flame that burned, 
 but consumed me not. I imagined that I loved 
 you — I but admired you. Shall I tell you that 
 the irresistible charms of her I now adore ex- 
 cuse the violence of the passion I feel ? Cer- 
 tainly I might call her charms irresistible, were 
 all eyes formed as mine are. Would you ask 
 me if she possesses all the graces that captivate, 
 all the wit that seduces, all the qualifications
 
 THE CARBONARO. 2G9 
 
 that retain a lover's affections ? Alas ! I cannot 
 answer the question. All that I know of this 
 young maiden is, that candour is seated on her 
 brow — that the smile of kindness plays round 
 her lips — that heaven beams from her eyes: 
 that to gaze on her is my supreme felicity — to 
 think on her my only business. In such a state 
 of mind, what do you look for from me I What 
 would you confide to me ? Speak, my sister, 
 would it be prudent to intrust such high in- 
 terests to such wavering hands ? for I must 
 confess to you, I no longer find in myself those 
 faculties that to you appeared superior to those 
 of other men, nor do 1 know whither they are 
 fled. Yet, bewail me not, my dearest friend; 
 the wanderings of my heart are of all things the 
 most delightful ; nor would I exchange the spe- 
 cies of annihilation that I at present experience 
 for all the glories that the world has to bestow.
 
 270 THE CARBONARO. 
 
 Yet, if I be the prey of a vain illusion — if the 
 prospect that now dazzles my sight is destined 
 to be dissipated like an unreal phantasy ! — but 
 no, I believe it not — my life and my love must 
 perish together. The trial will speedily be 
 made. I am about to remove from her pre- 
 sence — I am quitting my adored — I shall see 
 whether absence will destroy the spell that 
 now holds me bound. If it be so, I swear, my 
 sister, that I shall fly to you. Freedom, hu- 
 manity, the cause of brave men, shall once 
 more find in me their boldest defender. I 
 shall willingly expiate with my blood the fault 
 of having even for an instant abandoned them. 
 
 I. L. C. 
 
 P. S. I quit this to-morrow. Duty will not 
 allow me to remain any longer here ; it would 
 be a betrayal of hospitality. I am going to
 
 THE CARBONARO. 271 
 
 Switzerland, where I shall remain for some 
 time. Come what will, you shall hear of my 
 fate; friendship and gratitude equally attach 
 me to you. Believe ever, that all that remains 
 of me is yours.
 
 272 THE CARBONARO. 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 La Cesia, as he had stated to the countess, 
 left the Palace Vareze next day. He went 
 first to Como, where his passport was regularly 
 vised, as if he had just arrived from Paris ; and 
 the same night setting out for Lugano, he 
 entered the Swiss territory without diflSculty. 
 Not wishing however to remove from the fron- 
 tier, he resolved to pass the period of his pro- 
 bation on the heights that overlook the town of 
 Mendrisio. To these hills, where the pasture
 
 THE CARBONARO. 273 
 
 is good, the inhabitaDts of the canton of Te- 
 sino are in the habit of driving their herds 
 during the summer months. The air is pure, 
 and the grass tender and juicy : the milk is in 
 consequence excellent ; and the numerous Alpine 
 plants diffuse a fragrance which is as healthy 
 as it is agreeable. From the place where he 
 took up his abode it was possible, by climbing 
 one of the highest peaks, to see the south shore 
 of the Lake of Como ; he could even, when the 
 sky was very clear, discover the hill at the foot 
 of which Blevio was situated. This, it will be 
 confessed, was not the way to forget Thomasine ; 
 i3ut he had not the slightest desire to drive her 
 cherished image from his heart. All that he 
 anxiously sought to ascertain was, what effect 
 absence would produce on those tumultuous 
 feelings that had lately agitated his heart, not 
 less wonderfully than inexplicably. The hut
 
 274 THE CARBONARO. 
 
 in which he resided was a cJidlet, or summer 
 shieling, sheltered on the north by the forest 
 of Larges, that crowns the ridge of these hills ; 
 and his only company was a young shepherd 
 and his two sisters, who were employed in 
 collecting hay for their cattle during the win- 
 ter, and in milking their cows and making 
 cheese. La Cesia sometimes joined in those 
 rural amusements ; but for the most part he sat 
 on the point of a rock that hung over a preci- 
 pice in the neighbourhood, pondering in his 
 mind over the various events of his past life. 
 
 That life had been but short, and yet how 
 crowded with incidents ! Travels to distant 
 lands; two warlike campaigns, under opposing 
 banners ; political intrigues surrounded by 
 perils of every description had consumed his 
 youth. And what had been the upshot of all 
 these troubles ? What enjoyment had they
 
 THE CARBONARO. 275 
 
 purchased for him ? Nowhere did his memory 
 repose with pleasure but on the brief space in 
 the past, that had been devoted to the culti- 
 vation of literature. " And yet," exclaimed 
 he to himself, '* what do studies without end, 
 learning never complete, what do all our medi- 
 tations on objects inaccessible to our limited 
 means, and which only terminate in plunging- 
 us in an abyss of doubt and darkness, contribute 
 to the happiness of life ? Woes me ! the shep- 
 herd yonder, who is frolicking on the velvety 
 turf with his two sisters, is he not as much 
 conversant with the secret of happiness as I 
 am ? What an air of content they wear ! what 
 undisturbed gaiety they display ! what wisdom 
 in their want of thought ! They care not for 
 the reveries of philosophy or the combinations 
 of crooked politics, whose fatal name they do 
 not even know. They see no grounds of un-
 
 276 THE CARBONARO. 
 
 easiness as I do, and those who are like me, in 
 the decrees of a capricious despot, or his per- 
 verse agents, at a hundred leagues' distance 
 from them. Every thing around you, simple 
 indwellers of this delightful clime, is to you 
 peaceful and smiling \ the future is as bright as 
 the past has been fortunate, and the happiness 
 of the sires will be the common inheritance of 
 innumerous generations of their sons ! Good 
 young man ! down in the plain that stretches at 
 our feet, or perhaps on the other side of the 
 little hill from which the torrent separates us, 
 I can in my fancy view the simple companion 
 that fate has destined for thee, by whom the 
 never-dying family of thy fathers is to be per- 
 petuated, and who is to crown all thy wishes, 
 by adding to thy enjoyments the blessings of a 
 father." 
 
 While he pronounced these words, a tear of
 
 THE CARBONARO. 277 
 
 pleasure coursed down his cheek, and he sunk 
 in a profound reverie ; but he did not remain in 
 that state long-. To this momentary calm his 
 former troubled thoughts soon succeeded, and 
 hastily starting up, he exclaimed, *'WhatI 
 do not I also aspire to happiness, and why 
 should I not grasp it ? Thomasine — she might 
 be — she shall be mine ! What mighty obstacle 
 separates us I And if obstacles there be, are 
 they insurmountable ?" Hurried away by the 
 feeling of the moment, he eagerly directed 
 his steps through the brushwood and shingle 
 towards that point of the horizon where were 
 seen the heaped-up vapours that half concealed 
 the summit of the hills, the base of which is 
 washed by the Lake of Como. By-and-bye, fall- 
 ing in with an almost psrpendicular mountain 
 path, he followed its windings until they ledbim 
 to the brink of the torrent ; he was about to pass
 
 278 THE CARRONARO. 
 
 over by the long and yielding plank that united 
 the two banks, but the sun was now setting, 
 and darkness was already creeping up the val- 
 ley. It was necessary, therefore, to renounce 
 for that day any attempt to approach the dwell- 
 ing of Thomasine; and he again sought in 
 sadness and thoughtfulness his rustic dwelling. 
 The inmates were already sunk in deep slumber 
 when the count arrived, and he took unheeded 
 his place beside them on the heap of dry leaves 
 that served for their common bed ; for in these 
 lofty regions, purity of manners remains intact 
 like a treasure preserved in an unapproachable 
 citadel. He reclined, but his mind was too 
 much harassed by fears, desires, and uncer- 
 tainties, to permit him to enjoy the sweets of 
 sleep. " In ordinary times," mused he to him- 
 self, '* nothing could have been more suitable 
 than a union between our family and that of
 
 THE CARBONARO. 279 
 
 the Marquis Vareze. My birth and my for- 
 tune entitle me to the hand of the highest 
 dame in Lombardy ; yet existing circumstances 
 deprive me, at least for the present, of all these 
 advantages. Proscribed by the Piedmontese 
 government, which I wished to overthrow, my 
 property there is in all probability even now 
 seized by the government, and will hardly fail 
 to be confiscated. On the other hand, Austria, 
 which a community of danger unites in the 
 closest ties to Sardinia, will not be more re- 
 gardful of my possessions in the Milanese; but 
 what say I ? Is not my freedom, the most pre- 
 cious of all my possessions, already threatened ? 
 Yes ; and is not a process of high-treason, among 
 the least consequences of which would be an 
 imprisonment in some old castle for years, the 
 sad prospect of her that should consent to unite 
 her destinies with mine ? Perhaps, indeed.
 
 280 THE CARBONARO. 
 
 time and reason, more than the boasted cle- 
 mency of princes, may lead to some ameliora- 
 tion of those rigours ; but I know the timid 
 character of the father of Thomasine. His 
 anxiety about his safety, which he indulges to 
 pusillanimity, will lead him to oppose with all 
 his power the proffer of a connexion which 
 may render his political opinions yet more sus- 
 pected than they at present are. Even though 
 he believed that the happiness of his daughter 
 was at stake, he would not sacrifice his ease to 
 purchase it." 
 
 These were depressing thoughts, and they 
 afflicted La Cesia, although they did not dis- 
 courage him. His constitution was singularly 
 made up, for he united to a vivacity that was 
 often pushed to violence a tenaciousness of 
 purpose the most persevering. Unhappily, no 
 moral check had sufficient influence over him
 
 THE CARBONARO. 281 
 
 to restrain from transgressing the limits of 
 strict duty. As soon as his reason had con- 
 vinced him that the marquis would refuse his 
 consent, his only remaining consideration was 
 to contrive means of dispensing with it. He 
 was not yet so corrupted as not to seek to 
 justify in his own eyes so culpable a wish. 
 " Let her," said he, " but love me; let me be 
 assured of that, it will suffice to impose on me 
 the obligation for life of studying only her 
 happiness. To bring misfortune upon her and 
 upon myself out of regard to a vulgar prejudice, 
 which holds out paternal jurisdiction as of 
 divine origin, would be too great an act of folly. 
 Like many others, the tyrannical power over 
 his offspring vested by law in the parent is the 
 bitter fruit of civilisation, and springs solely 
 from that love of domineering which, arguing 
 upon the requirements of childhood, would in-
 
 282 THE CARBONARO. 
 
 definitely prolong dependence, and continue 
 to subject to its thrall those who no longer 
 require restraint nor counsel. Nature points 
 out other rules more consonant to justice. 
 Among animals, the tenderness of the mother, 
 which is so warm, so devoted, and so constant, 
 continues not a moment after the necessity 
 for it has ceased ; and when it departs, indif- 
 ference the most perfect succeeds, and with it 
 perfect equality. How falsely do men reason 
 in similar cases ! This old man is the absolute 
 master of his daughter's destiny, and he is 
 charged with her safety : yet, from his feeble- 
 ness and timidity, he is utterly incapable of 
 conducting himself in a moment of difficulty ; 
 and in such a moment would yet scruple, per- 
 haps, to immolate her angel beauty to his own 
 
 safety !" 
 
 Such was the sophistry that the headstrong
 
 THE CARBONARO, 283 
 
 youth employed in defence of his unbridled 
 passion. Yet his conscience from the bottom 
 of a heart whose feelings were naturally just, 
 and an understanding naturally acute, rejected 
 such a process of reasoning; and they took 
 what was the most obvious way to have their 
 appeal listened to, by exciting uneasiness in 
 his thoughts respecting the future condition 
 of the beloved object. Determined as he was 
 to carry off Thomasine from her father's house, 
 he yet hesitated whither to bear her. Was 
 he to take her to a foreign land ? And if he 
 did, what could he offer her there? In his 
 regardlessness of his fortune, he had neglected 
 to lay aside a sum suflBcient for his mainte- 
 nance, at least for a few years, in honourable 
 ease ; and he now cursed that contempt of 
 money which had formerly been his boast: 
 for how could he contemplate her whom he
 
 284 THE CARBONARO. 
 
 held so dear, whom he deemed worthy of all 
 the thrones in the universe, for whom he would 
 have desired to heap up all the enjoyments that 
 gold could buy, compelled to undergo for his 
 sake the privations of poverty, the humilia- 
 tions of distress ? Tears of bitterness dropped 
 from his eyes as he contemplated a picture 
 that so deeply wounded his pride ; and at the 
 moment he was under the influence of these 
 feelings, he was tempted for ever to renounce 
 an attachment that presented so slender pros- 
 pects of happiness. But the barbed arrow 
 that had struck him had pierced his heart too 
 deeply; his effbrts to pluck it out were vain, 
 and only served to prove that a passion so 
 interwoven with his existence would only 
 perish with it. 
 
 In such a frame of mind repose was impos- 
 sible. La Cesia rose, and walked hastily back-
 
 THE CARBONARO. 285 
 
 ward and forward in the neighbourhood of the 
 little hut : day had not yet dawned on the val- 
 leys, but it is sooner perceived on the moun- 
 tains. Already in the distance might be seen 
 the snowy tops of the higher Alps, whose pale 
 rose colour was soon to be changed into one 
 of dazzling whiteness as the glimmering stars 
 melted away by degrees before the nascent day. 
 The horizon was clear, all but a few thin bluish 
 mists that lingered on the side of the lower hills, 
 and promised a fine day. Below the shieling, 
 under the shelter of a frowning rock, and girt 
 round by an inclosure formed of young fir- 
 branches, arranged in lozenges, the herd of his 
 host were quietly waiting to be led out to their 
 pasture grounds ; every thing around was still 
 and silent ; the birds slumbered in their nests, 
 and the cool breeze of the morning breathed so 
 gently on the leaves of the lofty trees that they
 
 286 THE CARBONARO. 
 
 gave not even a murmur back ; the only sound 
 that struck the ear was the feeble trickle of a 
 thread of water, which rustic industry had con- 
 trived to turn into some troughs of pine wood, 
 so as to form an artificial watering-place for 
 the cattle ; the air was loaded with sweet and 
 balsamic perfumes. 
 
 At this period of the day, at the moment of 
 dawn, when refreshing slumber has restored to 
 animals and man suflQcient strength to recom- 
 mence a course of motion and labour, the com- 
 mon destiny of all that breathes, something like 
 a salutary crisis is commonly apparent. The 
 herbs raise their drooping stems, the senses 
 revive, the sinking produced by the fatigues 
 of the previous day disappear as the shadows 
 depart. But nowhere is this effect more sen- 
 sibly felt than on the levels of lofty mountains ; 
 where, at an equal distance from the vapours
 
 THE CARBONARO. 287 
 
 that moisten the plains, and the eternal snows 
 that put a stop to all vegetation, we appear 
 as it were to move between earth and heaven. 
 Cesia, notwithstanding his uneasiness, did 
 not fail to experience the return of that feeling 
 of gratification, that plenitude of vitality that 
 is unknown to the natives of the low grounds, 
 and that gives so inexpressible a charm to 
 existence. His depressed heart revived within 
 him ; his soul expanded under the influence of 
 the rising sun as the flower when it rears its 
 head that has been bent under the weight of 
 the night dews : a more smiling horizon opened 
 on his view, and in a short time the splendid 
 spectacle that surrounded him kindled his 
 imagination, and in his enthusiasm he ex- 
 claimed, — •' So lovely a scene as this is alone 
 worthy of my well-beloved ; 'tis here she ought
 
 288 THE CARBONARO. 
 
 to dwell with the happy mortal that knows how 
 to appreciate her worth. Oh! that our days 
 might flow away sweetly and noiseless, as this 
 limpid brook that, springing from an unknown 
 source, glides gently on to the gulf, in whose 
 darkness and profundity it is at last lost ! 
 Why should T disquiet myself at the thought 
 of her happiness ? Her tastes are simple and 
 rural. Has she not repeatedly told me that 
 noisy pleasures have no attractions for her 1 
 that she despises luxury and vain show ? What 
 then can she have to regret in abandoning what 
 is termed the world 1 Doubtless, the cares that 
 she bestows on the unfortunate must cease ; but 
 if she find in these exalted regions none that 
 requires her charitable aid, she can descend to 
 the valleys, where she may pass for one of those 
 angels of the upper air, to whom she bears so
 
 THE CARBONARO. 289 
 
 intimate a resemblance. Ah ! let her but love 
 me; let her but consent to unite her lot with 
 mine, and I shall answer for her happiness !" 
 
 The romantic ideas, which he welcomed with 
 transport, continued to work in the brain of 
 the passionate lover. In vain did reason en- 
 deavour to point out the obstacles that ren- 
 dered his project unattainable ; it was irrevo- 
 cably fixed in his mind, and his inventive spirit 
 was thenceforth only occupied in plans for 
 realising it. 
 
 VOL. I. N
 
 290 THE CARBONARO. 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 Difficulties of every kind opposed the 
 designs of Cesia; and they were such as a 
 temper less persevering than his would have 
 found insurmountable. In fact, it was all but 
 impossible to get to Thomasine, in order to 
 ascertain her sentiments, without incurring 
 the greatest risks ; for the description of Cesia 
 had been distributed, along with those of the 
 other proscribed parties, among all the agents 
 of the Austrian police ; and not only had he
 
 THE CARBONARO. 291 
 
 to escape their vigilance, but be had to pene- 
 trate to the residence of the Marquis Vareze 
 without being perceived by any one but his 
 daughter. For greater security he passed the 
 frontier in company with one of those nume- 
 rous bands of smugglers which regularly sup- 
 ply Lombardy with a number of articles, of 
 which the imperial government has attempted, 
 but in vain, to prevent the introduction. Of 
 serious danger he ran but small risk ; for these 
 fellows are much more in the habit of ex- 
 changing crowns than shots with the revenue 
 officers. 
 
 Having reached without hindrance the banks 
 of the Lake of Como, the count passed over 
 the water opposite to Blevio, and landing in a 
 lonely cove at the foot of a rock that had been 
 worn away by the incessant fretting of the 
 waves that broke on it, he sought shelter until
 
 292 THE CARBOiNARO. 
 
 nightfall in a moss-grown cave, the mouth of 
 which was obscured by the branches of a wild 
 fig-tree. When the hour was come to quit 
 this retreat, he climbed the hill, gained the 
 wood that stretches along its summit above the 
 garden- ground, and thence by a scarce trodden 
 footpath he descended to a little gate that 
 communicated between the palace of Vareze 
 and a cottage occupied by the vine-dresser 
 of the marquis. He was aware that Tho- 
 masine had been in the habit of going to this 
 cottage every day from the period that the 
 wife of the old servant had been affected 
 with a palsy, which rendered her no longer 
 capable of watching over the education of her 
 children, and hardly had he stationed himself 
 there before she appeared. 
 
 The sun had gone down for nearly an hour, 
 but the horizon still flamed with light ; for not
 
 THE CARBONARO. 293 
 
 unfrequently in that fine clime during the 
 twilight, the golden and purple-coloured clouds 
 that hang over the lake are so brightly re- 
 flected in the crystal of its waters, that they be- 
 stow on surrounding objects a singular, though 
 short-lived splendour, which eclipses that of 
 broad day. Thomasine did not at the first 
 glance recognise the count, who stood in her 
 path holding a paper in his hand, with which 
 he shaded his features ; but the instant that he 
 spoke she experienced a fit of trembling so 
 great that she tottered, and had nearly fallen. 
 La Cesia sprung forward to support her, and 
 begged her to calm her alarm. " Fear not," 
 said he to her, in tones in which respect and 
 tenderness mingled; *' let nothing disturb the 
 tranquillity that I would guarantee at the 
 expense of my life. I wish to converse with 
 you for a minute — this is indispensable ; but
 
 294 THE CARBONARO. 
 
 I swear to you notwithstanding, that it will 
 entirely depend on yourself whether I shall see 
 you in future ; — all that I now ask you is to 
 read this paper." 
 
 As he finished these words, without waiting 
 for her answer, he abruptly quitted her pre- 
 sence and plunged into the thicket. Thoma- 
 sine hurried across the garden with as much 
 haste as her agitation permitted ; what she had 
 just heard had indeed excited her curiosity in 
 the highest degree. We shall not give the words 
 of the message. Writings of that kind have all 
 one common resemblance ; or if they differ, 
 they differ in the form of expression only ; they 
 interest therefore those only whom they pecu- 
 liarly regard. Yet however exaggerated, how- 
 ever extravagant such productions may seem 
 to persons of cold temperament, they are 
 not for the most part the less sincere, unless
 
 THE CARBONARO. 295 
 
 we except the promises which they generally 
 lavish; these, we confess, are generally rash or 
 doubtful. One thing however distinguished 
 the epistle of Cesia from all the loveletters 
 that have come to our knowledge ; instead of 
 soliciting with ardour a speedy answer, he 
 besought Thomasine to reflect maturely on 
 what she read before she came to an irrevo- 
 cable determination. 
 
 " Whatever be the degree of my impa- 
 tience," it went on — " whatever be the dangers 
 to which I am exposed by remaining here, I 
 shall willingly wait one day— many days. If 
 you consent to our union, that our happiness 
 may be permanent I must owe nothing to 
 precipitation, and still less to pity." 
 
 We may mark in these expressions that 
 haughty soul, whose pride, which formed its 
 characteristic feature, even love had not sub-
 
 296 THE CARBONARO. 
 
 dued. As to Thomasine, absence, far from 
 •weakening the sentiments that Cesia had in- 
 spired her with, had only made her fully sensi- 
 ble of their force. It was to the count that all 
 her thoughts had reference, and it was the 
 image of the count that was ever present to her 
 eyes. It was, therefore, with inexpressible joy 
 she learned that she was beloved ; but the 
 delicious feeling was speedily troubled by the 
 reflections that her situation inspired. 
 
 " He asks me if I love him," said she to 
 herself; " alas ! if I only listened to the sug- 
 gestions of my own heart, the answer would be 
 an easy one. He seeks, before endeavouring to 
 remove those obstacles that oppose our union, 
 to be certain of my consent ! Does he not per- 
 ceive that the principal obstacle lies in the will 
 of my father, and why does he not address 
 himself to him 1 Ah ! it is assuredly from a
 
 THE CARBONARO. 297 
 
 sentiment of delicacy ; he wishes not that 
 paternal authority should interpose before he is 
 assured of my assent to his application ! But 
 how can I express it? Propriety — my duty — 
 forbid me to see him in private, and even to 
 write to him. Yes, I owe to him, whom Hea- 
 ven in its goodness has assigned to me as my 
 protector, the most minute account of all my 
 actions, of all my resolutions." 
 
 This argument was conclusive, and she was 
 convinced by it : for virtue exercises over 
 hearts that have never gone astray the most 
 absolute authority. Thomasine determined 
 then to carry the count's letter forthwith to her 
 father ; but as she descended from the chamber 
 which she occupied on the first floor, she saw 
 through the window of the stair the candies 
 that had lighted the apartment of the venerable 
 old man extinguished. She feared to disturb
 
 298 THE CARBONARO. 
 
 his repose, and she slowly returned, content to 
 put off until the morrow a communication, the 
 necessity of which she acknowledged, but of 
 which she experienced by anticipation all the 
 embarrassment. A painful recollection at that 
 moment came across her of her departed mo- 
 ther. Whatever be the tenderness of a daugh- 
 ter, nay, whatever be the love even of a son 
 towards a father, it is only into the bosom of a 
 mother that children can pour with endearing 
 confidence the secrets of the heart. 
 
 Sleep did not fail to interrupt the current of 
 her thoughts ; but her slumbers were neither 
 long nor peaceful. Long ere day dawned she 
 awoke with a piercing cry. She had in her 
 dreams beheld a horrifying sight : she fancied 
 that in a sharp altercation which La Cesia 
 maintained with the marquis on the subject of 
 his marriage, the latter, while repulsing his
 
 THE CARBONARO. 299 
 
 daughter, who had sunk at his feet, made a 
 false step and fell backward. The old man 
 called aloud for help ; and a band of Austrian 
 soldiers, led on by an agent of police, attracted 
 by the noise, came running forward ; they 
 seized the count, and were about to drag him 
 to prison, when by a sudden effort he released 
 himself from their grasp, and, preferring death 
 to imprisonment, plunged headlong into the 
 lake. 
 
 It was a long time before Thomasine, who 
 was so dreadfully terrified, that she could hard- 
 ly breathe, recovered from the agitation into 
 which this fatal vision had thrown her. It was 
 not, indeed, until she had passed an hour in 
 prayer at the foot of the Virgin, whom she 
 especially honoured, that her mind became suf- 
 ficiently calm to reflect on her situation. 
 
 What she had beheld in her dreams was.
 
 300 THE CARBONARO. 
 
 indeed, but the idle illusion of a heated imagi- 
 nation ; but truth, as is generally the case, had 
 furnished the groundwork. 
 
 In fact, it was but too probable that, in ex- 
 isting circumstances, the marquis would refuse 
 the consent required, and the violent character 
 of the count was sufficient to excite the most 
 lively alarms. " How will he be able," thought 
 Thomasine, " to support the rigour of my si- 
 lence, and the indignity of a refusal so signified? 
 Hitherto a degree of prudence and of reserve, 
 not at all to be expected from him, has regu- 
 lated his conduct; but if his request be refused, 
 his violence will break through all restraints. 
 Alas ! it is too true, every hope of happiness for 
 me is lost for ever ! But," continued she, 
 weeping bitterly, " while I am occupied in 
 anticipated sorrows, an imminent danger hangs 
 over us. If he obstinately determines to re-
 
 THE CARBONARO. 301 
 
 main in this neighbourhood, in a country filled 
 with spies and traitors, he will be unquestion- 
 ably discovered, and given over to his pitiless 
 enemies. The soldiers — the lake — the whole 
 is a salutary warning sent by Heaven. I must 
 profit by its goodness." 
 
 A rigid moralist would doubtless have easily 
 refuted these reasonings, which were specious 
 rather than solid ; but they did not appear the 
 less conclusive in the eyes of a young and ho- 
 nourable, but inexperienced female, who thought 
 she could without any breach of duty, nay, 
 who thought it an act paramount to all others 
 to save an unhappy and beloved object in mo- 
 mentary danger of perishing. Reared by a 
 pious and charitable mother, and accustomed 
 from her infancy to compassionate misfortune, 
 to solace misery, it may be easily supposed that 
 she confounded with the promptings of huma-
 
 302 THE CARBONARO. 
 
 nity the secret love that she felt in the bottom 
 of her heart. Whatever should be the conse- 
 quence, she determined that her father should 
 not see the letter of La Cesia, at least until she 
 had despatched a billet to the latter, imploring 
 him to remove from a spot where his personal 
 safety was exposed to so great a risk. She 
 thought that she ought at the same time to 
 inform him, that tlie marquis had an invincible 
 repugnance to bestow his daughter's hand on a 
 proscribed man; and that it was worse than 
 useless to ask it of him so long as the existing 
 state of things remained , and that was too violent 
 to last long. Of her own personal feelings Tho- 
 rn asine firmly resolved to breathe not a syllable : 
 if the count's sagacity enabled him to divine 
 them, she was not to blame. The only thing that 
 remained was to find a messenger to carry her 
 letter. After a little consideration, she deter-
 
 THE CARBONARO. 303 
 
 mined to intrust it to the eldest daughter of 
 the vine-dresser, and with this intention she 
 went at an earlier hour than usual to the cot- 
 tage ; hut on her arrival there, she learned, to 
 her great chagrin as well as surprise, that the 
 child was not in a condition to execute her 
 commission. In the morning the measles, that 
 were raging throughout the district, had indi- 
 cated their presence by a smart attack of fever ; 
 and the sorrowing mother, who was confined to 
 her bed, was impatiently looking for her bene- 
 factress, in whom all her hopes were placed : 
 nor were they placed in vain. Thomasine, 
 neglecting her dearest inclinations, thought of 
 nothing but succouring the little patient ; she 
 hastily despatched a messenger to Como for 
 the physician, while she prepared a suitable 
 potion for the child ; nor was it until the
 
 304 THE CARBONARO. 
 
 physician Lad arrived, and had declared that 
 there was no danger, that she thought of re- 
 turning to the palace of her father. The hour 
 appointed for her meeting with the count was 
 long passed, yet it was possible he might have 
 waited with a view to see her. Pondering on 
 this possibility, she with a tottering step ad- 
 vanced towards the garden gate, and finding no 
 one there, she opened and shut it again with a 
 lingering hand ; but scarcely had she got within 
 the enclosure when, at the turn of the first 
 alley, she beheld in the clear moonlight the 
 shadow of a man of lofty stature projected on 
 the gravel. Not doubting that this was La 
 Cesia, she went up to him, and held out the 
 billet that she had written. 
 
 " Heaven is my witness," said she, " that I 
 had no intention of meeting you. Take my
 
 THE CARBONARO. 305 
 
 answer, and for Heaven's sake withdraw from 
 a place where you are no longer in safety." 
 
 " Since you have consented to write to me," 
 replied he, taking eagerly the paper thus pre- 
 sented to him, *' you will surely deign to listen 
 to me for a few moments." 
 
 " No, I cannot — I am entirely dependent 
 on my father's will ; he alone can dispose of 
 me." 
 
 In pronouncing these words, she made a 
 motion to withdraw ; but the count sprung 
 suddenly before her, and barred the way of her 
 retreat. "You speak to me of your father," 
 said he, with an eagerness into which some feel- 
 ing of anger entered ; *'you wish me to address 
 myself to him, as if the business between you 
 and me were a matter of sordid interest. 
 Listen to me, Thomasine," he vehemently con- 
 tinued, perceiving that she still sought to
 
 306 THE CARBONARO. 
 
 escape ; " I seek not to turn you away from 
 the obedience you owe to the author of your 
 days, but think that the feebleness of his cha- 
 racter may lead him to commit irreparable 
 errors in disposing of your hand, and that of 
 these errors you will be the first victim. His 
 health is visibly declining ; he requires not 
 only your touching cares, your beloved presence, 
 he requires, besides, a supporting friend, espe- 
 cially in the present difficult circumstances in 
 which the country is placed. You assure his 
 peace by consenting to unite your destinies 
 with mine. Never, never, believe me, did a son 
 show more affectionate, more devoted attention 
 to a father, than I am prepared to offer to 
 yours." 
 
 These last expressions soothed Thomasine as 
 much as the commencement of the conversation 
 had alarmed her. ** How well you divine my
 
 THE CARBONARO. 307 
 
 feelings!" said she tx) him with much emotion. 
 " Yes, my most ardent wishes are for my 
 father's happiness ; and there is no sacrifice I 
 would not make in order to ensure so desirable 
 an end. You tell me yoa are desirous to assist 
 me in its attainment ; follow that generous 
 determination, and endeavour immediately to 
 free yourself from the dangerous position in 
 which the late troubles have placed you. It 
 is most unjust that courage so brilliant and 
 talents so distinguished should be lost to the 
 world and to us. My father does justice to 
 your merits ; he loves your person ; if he prefer 
 your suit, it will not be from me," added she, 
 blushing deeply, *' that you will meet any op- 
 position to his will." 
 
 '• Adorable girl!" cried the count, throwing 
 himself at her feet ; " angel of virtue and of filial
 
 308 THE CARBONARO. 
 
 affection, would you then have me submit to 
 the humiliation of appealing to the mercy of 
 the tyrants of my country for pardon of an 
 offence which was but the act of a bold and 
 free man, and which success would have amply 
 justified ? Yes, though no terror of punishment 
 could ever prevail on me, nor any horrors of 
 captivity, even the most dreadful, one word 
 from your lips, one flattering hope will be suffi- 
 cient to determine me to that course : love has 
 vanquished this heart of iron. — -Behold me at 
 your disposal, a submissive slave, if such be 
 your will ! Henceforth I shall bite my chain 
 in silence." He trembled with indignation 
 while he spoke these words; but soon assuming 
 a calmer tone, he added, " Since I must re- 
 move myself from you, and perhaps for a long 
 time, what will support my courage under so
 
 THE CARBONARO. 309 
 
 painful a trial? — What pledge will you give me 
 of a sentiment that is the glory of my existence, 
 and the only tie that binds me to it ?" 
 
 A momentary silence ensued on both sides ; 
 it was broken by Thomasine, exclaiming with a 
 firmness of tone that resembled inspiration — 
 **La Cesia, follow me !" 
 As she thus spoke, she descended with hasty 
 steps a pathway leading to a pavilion, whose 
 exterior was painted in various colours, and 
 served as a decoration to that part of the 
 garden ; there, pushing open a door that was 
 half concealed by the foliage, she led the won- 
 dering count into one of those ossuaries that 
 are not uncommon in the north of Lombardy 
 and in Switzerland ; receptacles where the 
 piety of a semi-civilised people has of old time 
 consecrated to religion the remains of their
 
 310 THE CARBONARO. 
 
 ancestors, by arranging them in symmetrical 
 masses. At the bottom of this vault there 
 was a Madonna, surrounded by a framework 
 strangely composed of these mournful frag- 
 ments. Every thing was calm and silent in 
 this abode of death; the reflection of the 
 moon which danced on the lake alone seemed 
 to bestow a flickering motion on these blanched 
 and dried remains. Familiarised from her in- 
 fancy to the sombre scene, Thomasine was in 
 the frequent habit of visiting this solitary ora- 
 tory to pour out her evening prayers. On en- 
 tering it on the present occasion, she stretched 
 out her hand, and resting it on the altar, said 
 in a solemn tone — 
 
 ** La Cesia, let what will happen, I call 
 Heaven and these mute evidences to witness, 1 
 shall never be anv but vours."
 
 THE CARBON ARO. 311 
 
 •' And I," cried La Cesia, in a transport of 
 pleasure that rose to ecstasy, " receive thy 
 faith, and solemnly pledge my own to thee." 
 
 It is probable that in pronouncing these words, 
 in the heat of the moment, he struck the base 
 of one of those tottering pyramids that had 
 been reared on each side of the altar, for it 
 crumbled down with a loud crash ; and one of 
 the sculls that had composed it rolled forward 
 to the feet of the two lovers. Cesia was struck 
 with horror at the omen, and involuntarily put 
 his hand on his pistols, while Thomasine could 
 not repress a shriek ; but her cry was the result 
 of the surprise only, the accident had not 
 affected her farther. A\^hen the count there- 
 fore began to soothe her, she calmly answered 
 his endeavours by observing, that the dead 
 alarmed her not. " I fear," said she, the
 
 312 THE CARBONARO. 
 
 serenity aud peacefulness of an innocent heart 
 beaming from her gentle eyes, *' the living 
 God, and none but him." The impression of 
 terror that the count had received left deeper 
 traces. That heart, so intrepid in battle, was 
 not equally resolved against the forebodings of 
 superstition ; a weakness against which, by a 
 singular inconsequence, the incredulity of those 
 who believe themselves bold, because they are 
 presumptuous, does not always protect them. 
 Despite of the suggestions of his reason, the 
 sinistrous augury troubled his present enjoy- 
 ment, and rose before his mental vision lik6 a 
 dark and threatening cloud on the horizon of 
 his future bliss. But Thomasine now felt the 
 necessity of rejoining her father. At the moment 
 of quitting La Cesia she held forth to him her 
 hand, which he pressed to his heart ; nor did
 
 THE CARBONARO. 313 
 
 she make any great effort to withdraw it. 
 He slowly and pensively turned to the boat 
 that was to bear him from her ; but had not 
 proceeded but a step or two, when he sprang 
 back again, his eye sparkling and his counte- 
 nance on fire, as if some violent and irresistible 
 impulse had taken sudden and entire possession 
 of him. 
 
 " Thomasine," he cried aloud, " if I quit you 
 now, I shall lose you for ever ; I feel but too 
 sadly assured of this. What wait we for ? 
 you love me, your innocent candour has just 
 now made the avowal, what more is required to 
 render us happy ? Follow me — your lover, your 
 husband l" He pressed her in his arms as he 
 spoke, and begaa to draw her towards the 
 boat. But there is a moral power in virtue to 
 which physical force must always yield ; nor is 
 virtue ever disarmed until it becomes a traitor 
 to itself. The daughter of the marquis hastily 
 broke from the arms that were twined around 
 her, and regarding the count with one of those 
 almost superhuman looks of dignity that com- 
 VOL. I. o
 
 314 THE CARBONARO. 
 
 mard instantaneous respect, she said — " Un- 
 ha')py man, whence this frenzy ? and what 
 would thou do with her that thou lovest, were 
 she weak enough to forget her duty and to 
 follow thy counsels ?" 
 
 These few words, but much more the air that 
 accompanied them, produced an instantaneous 
 effect on the count ; he was silent and troubled^ 
 but though he felt the reasonableness of the 
 appeal, his dark, yet ardent look still retained 
 its expression of passion and despair. . As he 
 again withdrew she lifted up her hands, and 
 eyes now filled with tears, to heaven, and said to 
 him — " Cesia, let us hope for better days ; but 
 above all things, let us strive to deserve them." 
 
 He answered not ; but casting himself into 
 the boat, he pushed from the land, while Tho- 
 masine retired to the palace. She turned not 
 to look on the bark of the count ; but every 
 beat of his receding oars smote deeply and 
 mournfully on her saddened heart. 
 
 END OF VOL. I. 
 
 PRINTED BY A. J. VALPY, RED LION COURT, LONDON.