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determined by no law; the bishop and the inquisitor being independent of ordinary tribunals, and the other authorities having no fixed term, at the expiration of which they may be obliged to bring the prisoner forth for examination. There is, indeed, a nominal period of thirty days, during which the police may detain any one at their own sole will and pleasure; but as they are never called upon to render any account of their conduct, and as their victim or his friends have no competent tribunal to appeal to, this period may be prolonged month after month, and even year after year; moreover, a recent secret circular authorises this indefinite prolongation, in order to give the examining judge sufficient time to look into the cases of the prisoners. And time enough, indeed, it must require, when we consider that in one single prison alone-that of Monte Citorio-in the first seven months of the past year, the names of 3745 persons consigned to incarceration between its walls, were inscribed upon its books! and this, too, in a city of which the population did not exceed 120,000 souls, even before the commencement of its troubles, and which is now reduced full one-fourth of the number, by exile, banishment, imprisonment, the galleys, and capital punishment, to say nothing of the fearful state of privation, bordering on actual misery and want, to which thousands more are reduced by the deportation or imprisonment of their natural protectors, and providers of their means of sustenance.

It may easily be believed that, under such a system of things, respectable persons may be detained in prison for months without being brought to trial. Signor del Frate, a most estimable young man, was incarcerated, utterly ignorant why, for seven months, and at last was set at liberty without any sentence being passed upon him; indeed, without any charge having been made against him. Signor Pistrini has, in the same manner, been thirteen months in prison, equally ignorant of his offence, but without the same prospect of release. Upwards of 240 custom-house officers have been in prison nearly two years, without any hope of being brought to trial; in that time, one of them has gone mad, and two others have attempted suicide a crime hitherto more rare in Italy than in any conntry in Europe; but, under the present circumstances of the country, who can be surprised if suffering and despair should render it more frequent!

Even at the very moment we are writing these pages, a tragical instance of long detention in prison, terminating in the mockery of

a secret trial, and a most cruel and unjust sentence to death, by decapitation, is exhibited in Rome, in the case of Edward Murray, the son of a brave British officer, he himself being married, and the father of a family.

This young man was made an inspector of the police, at Ancona, where he had resided ten years, in the time of the Republic, during which he received orders from the then existing authorities to imprison a certain Count Severino, and another individual, both of them staunch adherents to the Papal cause. An order afterwards came from the governor that they should be released, and safely conveyed out of the city. Murray accordingly informed them that they were at liberty to depart, and walked with them himself out of the prison gates at night, arm in arm with Severino. Unhappily, the prisoners were attacked in the street almost directly after, and stabbed, and Murray was arrested, under the pretended accusation of being in league with the assassins. Nearly three years he languished in prison, first in Ancona and subsequently at Rome, under privations and amid filth which brought him into a pitiable state of suffering. All that time he was refused permission to consult with a legal adviser, and was debarred the consolation of visits from his mother, his wife, his child, or his friends, save through the bars of his prison, and in presence of two sbirri, alias spies, who insisted that all the communications which passed should be made in the Italian language. All that time his unhappy mother, an Ionian lady, besieged, and is even now besieging with her tears and entreaties, the secretary of state, the British consul, and every one whom she imagines to have a shadow of influence in her son's behalf: meanwhile, his trial has taken place, if trial it may be called. The amnesty granted by the Pope, after his return from Gaeta, prevented this unfortunate young man from being treated as a political offender; the proper way, therefore, of proceeding against him was to try him before the ordinary criminal tribunal of Ancona, with a right of appeal to the superior tribunal there, and of final appeal to that of the Consulta at Rome, as well as allowing him to choose his own advocate. Instead of this, he has been tried at once by the Consulta, without power of appeal to any other tribunal -without being allowed any other advocate than the one allotted to him by the government-without any knowledge of the witnesses against him, that advocate being sworn to reveal nothing to his client respecting them-without any public hearing; in short, without

any of the observances which, in England, are so inseparably interwoven with the administration of justice, that without them no sentence or decision whatever would be considered valid, more especially in the solemn and most responsible question of life and death.

The question of this treatment of our unfortunate countryman is now under discussion in a British parliament, and advocated as it is by some of the most able and energetic members of both the upper and the lower house, it will have the effect, doubly advantageous, of showing the English what wrongs the Italians labour under, and the Italians, what privileges the English have secured to themselves, by a rational appliance of the principles of liberty, civil equality, and justice, which render their political constitution the admiration of the world, and their own security and happiness.

It would swell our pages into volumes were we to enumerate one half the instances of unjust detention in Roman dungeons that we might do; we might bring forward cases of obscure individuals being actually forgotten for years, in the confusion of the prison administration. One of these unfortunates, who, with others, was set at liberty at the accession of Pio Nono, had been incarcerated twenty years; his very name was unknown to his gaolers, and as for the original accusation against him, there was not even a tradition or conjecture remaining. An unfortunate Levant woman was imprisoned by the police authorities, because her passport was not quite en règle. As she spoke nothing but Arabic, she could not, of course, vindicate herself, and as the police could not understand her, the officers of the police pronounced her mad, and sent her to recover her senses in the hospital of the Longara, where she remained three years: at the end of that time, happily for her, an inspection of the patients took place, and suspicions arising that she was not insane, the Bishop of Valperga was requested to see her, and interpret for her. He did so, and found her to be in perfect possession of all her mental faculties. She was accordingly set at liberty; but how many miserable wretches may have languished out their days under similar circumstances!

The power of the police, as if not already too wide and unrestrained, received additional extent and license in 1850, under the restored government, by certain articles authorizing it to condemn an honourable citizen not to leave the commune in which he resides; to oblige him to retire to his home at a certain houroften, at sunset; not to leave it before an hour equally specified; not to attend spectacles,

festivals, theatres, fairs, or markets; not to frequent particular places, or associate with particular persons, mentioned by name! And all these tyrannical and insulting restrictions, known by the name of precetti, are to be warranted by an order from the head of the province, the assessor-general, the director of the police, or the local governor, with a summary verification of his motives. The person thus arbitrarily condemned can appeal to no one but the head of the province, who is himself, as we have just stated, one of the authorities with whom the power of condemnation rests.

The police may also levy fines at their own will and pleasure, of from one to thirty scudi, with restriction to the house, barrack, or prison, for any period they may think fit, of from one to thirty days. Can we imagine for a single moment what such a state of things would be in London!

Nor let it be thought that these odious precetti are inflicted only for serious causes, or after mature deliberation. During the carnival of 1850, Dandini, the director of police, summoned before him, in virtue of his office, eighty individuals, mostly of the most honourable personal character and professional position, among whom it may be enough to those who know Roman society, to mention Dr. Clito Cartucci, Advocate Petrocchi, Signor Ballanti, the brothers Doria and Castellani, making it known to these eighty that he should hold them responsible for any disorder whatsoever, that might occur during the approaching carnival. This Dandini, a count, by the bye, was known, on account of the harshness, malignity, unceasing watchfulness, and unrelenting obstinacy of his disposition, by the cognomen of the Hyena of the police. An unhappy lady, a widow, waited upon him humbly to inquirenot to dispute them-into the grounds upon which her four sons, her consolation and her maintenance, had been arrested, by his order. He kept her waiting three long hours, weeping, languishing, almost fainting; at length he condescended to appear in person before her; but it was only to tell her that he was astonished at her assurance, in coming to him on behalf of such mauvais sujets (anglice, good-fornothings); that she ought to be ashamed of herself for having such worthless sons, and that it was evident she must have given them an extremely bad education, for it to have produced such abominable fruits. What wonder that parties respectable as those we have just named, should have preferred rusticating altogether at Albano, Tivoli, and other places within reasonable distance, during the carnival, rather

than be answerable for anything that might occur in the course of it, among the thousands of discontented still left in the population of Rome, even imprisoned, watched, exiled, confiscated as it has been, and continues to be? But it was not only for a brief season that hundreds left Rome on this account; many, many of those hundreds expatriated themselves entirely solely from the same cause; and of the refugees that sadly track the streets of this busy metropolis, reading in the face of every hasty passer-by occupation which they cannot hope to obtain, viewing in every splendid equipage either a type of the rank they themselves have been accustomed to, or of which the patronage, under happier influences, would have given them the means of honourable subsistence, under their own azure skies,-of these unfortunate refugees-we may venture to pronounce that onethird have been compelled to seek an asylum

in our own generous world-embracing England solely through disgust, not dread of the debasing thraldom, bodily and mental, of the precetti. And shall England ever withdraw her protection of the oppressed, the calumniated, the wronged? No! she holds the principle of social liberty and equal rights too sacred a blessing from Him who is the Giver of all good, to appropriate it to herself, and to deny its benefits to others, as long as she has the inestimable privilege of extending them to all who step upon her honoured shores.

Great as are the abuses we have already shown as existing at this moment in the Papal dominions, greater remain to be unfolded; but of these at a future opportunity. Enough has been said already to prove that the Romans, at any rate, do not complain without cause, and that, complaining with cause, they have a right to our sympathy, and consequently to our aid.

A VISIT.*

BY FREDERIKA BREMER.

ONE winter evening, it so happened that I was alone at home. A slight indisposition had kept me for two or three days within doors, and, though I was now well, it was thought advisable for me to remain quiet this night, and not go to any of the parties that carried off the rest of the family. And I was quite satisfiedthen I used most to enjoy myself, when all alone at home; and with much good humour and many good wishes I said adieu to father and mother, sisters and brothers, as some went to the opera, and some to a ball, and some to a concert. Then, though we were generally a very quiet household, with a drop or two of gloominess coming from .... no matter what we had just obtained a brighter place than usual my eldest sister having become engaged to an excellent young man, and my youngest brother being just returned from college with very flattering testimonials, and full of hope and joyfulness, and love of his youngest sister, who also was equally in love with her brother. For myself, I was at that interesting period in a woman's life where she, young still, but not in her first youth, feels disposed to settle down in some way, and is not

*It will no doubt add to the interest with which this paper may be read, to know that it was written in English by Miss Bremer, and that it has not been necessary to alter a dozen words. ED.

without offers or opportunities, but still does not feel bound to sacrifice her freedom to anything below her heart's choice.

Well, they-my kith and kin-all went out, and I was left alone. I felt quite pleased with it. Putting out the lights, except one in each of the chandeliers in the two drawing-rooms, I began to walk slowly up and down the soft carpets, enjoying the solitude, and the pleasant light shedding itself from above over the rooms and their furniture. It was a romantic clair obscur, soft, and a little melancholy-and this evening I felt very romantic. A slight, not unpleasant, weakness remained after the past illness; but I was perfectly well, and with every moment a fresh gush of health and delicious life seemed to swell my heart and pervade my whole being a certain soft emotion kept rising within me. On the whole, I felt not quite so happy at being alone the whole evening, I wished somebody would come and partake of my solitude; it was too full for me. My heart bounded with sympathy towards my fellow-creatures; with good will to love, and to be loved; to interchange endearing words and good offices. I wanted only to give; I wanted only somebody good enough to receive; I felt my heart overflowing with good will for all the world and all the people in it. I left the door to the vestibule unlocked, in hope--not as in the extravagant fancies of my childhood--

in hope that robbers and burglars would come in and give me an opportunity to develop some wonderful acts of courage or présence d'esprit ;-no, I did not wish for robbers to come, but I did wish for somebody; and I had a strong presentiment that somebody would come, that I should not remain alone the whole evening. I felt sure that I should have a visit-a visit that could not but become of importance either to me or to somebody else. Then, anybody that would come in this evening must feel my influence-must experience something uncommon from the very volume of life that rolled in my veins, and that I would roll on him or her. A thousand feelings a thousand thoughts were in my heart and mind. But I walked silently to and fro in the rooms, now and then looking curiously down the street. Our house was a corner house: at the corner of the house opposite hung a streetlamp, not very bright nor brilliant, but still shedding a light, clear enough on the spot under it, and on the objects nearest around. Right under the lamp hung, and swung in the evening wind, a huge red wooden glove (a glovemaker's sign), with the forefinger (a very long forefinger) pointing right down. The snow fell in large flakes round the lamp and the red glove on the frozen white ground. Now and then came persons mostly men-wrapped up in their cloaks, passing right under the lamp and the red glove, and were, as they passed, lighted up by the former. I thought I recognised friends or acquaintances in some of them, and often it would seem as if they steered their way directly towards my house, but then again they were wrapped up in the darkness, and the great red glove swung, and the lamp shed its light, and the snow fell fast over the solitary spot—and again I paced the carpets of the drawing-rooms. No matter: it was yet good time for visiting, it was early yet, and a visit I should certainly have that night; and many a face passed in the camera obscura of my mind—many a vision of my expected visitor. First, I saw one that had been very kind to me, but that I had been less kind to; one of these that we esteem, but can neither like nor love, but now, this night, if that person would come, I should be so kind, so it would not be my fault if that person did not feel amiable and loveable. And then there was somebody who had wronged me, and made me suffer. Oh! that she might come, that I might do her good instead-that I might make her rich and happy; it would give me the greatest pleasure. And then there was a man that was more to me than I to him-that, I liked; a brilliant, interesting man,

me.

that did not like me, but who was interested by me, liked to talk with me, and was a friend of mine. Oh! if he should come; he would love me, perhaps fall in love with me that evening! There was in me so much of that fire which makes everything light up and radiate. Was he quite fireproof? Well, still his spirit would light up by the light of mine; I knew it, and we would have such a talk about stars and showers of stars; about Copernicus, and Taylor, and Newton; and about electricity, and alchemy, and Berzelius: we would have such a great intellectual treat and conversation! And then there was another man, that liked me well, and would offer me heart and hand, if I would like him. Like him I could not; but feel very kindly, respectfully, almost tenderly for him, that I could-I did; and then he was a very good and very stately gentleman, and of a rank and fortune that well could flatter a little worldly vanity, and I had my share. Ah! if he should come this evening, and ask the question, I fear that I should not find heart to ask delay to consider, and so forth; I fear I should say "Yes," at once, and fix my destiny before I was sure it was well. My heart was too warm to be wise. I almost feared that he would come and ask But then there was an elderly married man, and a genius, that I loved as young women love elderly gentlemen who are geniuses, and are kind to them-adoringly, passionately. Oh! that he might come. Νο danger of his asking dangerous questions; no danger of becoming engaged to him, and fixing one's destiny before the heart was right fixed. If he should but come--what a delight to indulge looking at him-to give vent to the flow of thoughts and feelings with such a mind to be inspired, and foolish, and nonsensical, in a sublime sense, as well he could be to hear the effusions of that great heart, great as the world. He never had quite understood me; I never had been quite myself with him; this evening I should be so, he should know my heart. May-be he would ask me to do something for him-to give my purse, every shilling I possessed, to some poor personswhat a delight! And how I should treat him with tea, and wine, and cake, just as Hebe did Jupiter; and how he should enjoy it. Dear me, what an Olympian treat it would be! And then I saw a lady, whose very shadow on the wall I loved. Oh! that if she would but come, my dear, my bosom friend! What a delightful time we should have together, with tea and chat, and the outpourings of the heart. I would tell her everything: she would counsel me

wisely, as she was wont to do. Dear soul, how I loved her; tears filled my eyes in thinking of her, and that she would come-to be sure she was a hundred miles away, on her estate; but, no matter, it could very well happen that she should come. She liked to surprise people, and come unawares upon them, like the Emperor Nicholas. Very likely she would come this evening. My heart asked for it, and then I looked out of the window; the street-lamp flamed and flickered red; the great red glove swung to and fro, with the long forefinger pointing right out; the snow fell fast. I heard sleigh-bells ringing—a carriage was comingmay-be my friend in it. There it comes, right up against the house-my house. The light of the lamp glances over it-how snow-covered! Oh! I will kiss off the snow from her clothesI will make her so comfortable and happy!

Away flew the carriage, with the lady and the snow-cloak, and the merry jingling bells. But there, now, the great red glove stands still, and the long forefinger points right down on a man wrapped up in a big cloak! I am sure it is the genius, and he is coming to pay me a visit. Dear great man! he comes right up to the house,-yes, no-he comes not-he turns to the left hand, it could not be he, he would not have passed me so! There, again the glove stands still, the finger points, and a slender figure passes under it-how like my friend the naturalist!—and he is coming right here, no, he is not-he turns to the right hand. And the light flickers, and the snow falls, and the glove swings over the now solitary spot, and I am still alone, and walk up and down the soft carpets in the romantic twilight.

After all, how gaudily life wears away! why should we not make the best of it? why not take the love and kindness that are offered, and make happy those that we can make happy? why should we think so much of ourselves alone, and be so afraid of not being so happy as happy can be? we must think also of others, and be content for ourselves with a moderate share of happiness.

Well! if the friend so kind and noble-hearted, whose heart I can claim, now claims my hand, this evening he shall have it, I believe! I will make him happy, and his whole house comfortable, and everybody about him! I must have something to do, to love, to live for! Well!-if he comes! And then I looked

out of the window. There now, this time the forefinger of the red hand points most decidedly down on a tall, stately figure,—and he is coming yes, he is certainly coming-coming

right to this house; he enters the door! It must be he! how I felt my heart beat! I almost wished it was not he. And to be sure, if it were he who entered the house, he never came up the steps, nor opened the unlocked door of my house and heart-no, not this time; and the half-dreaded, half-wished-for question, was not asked now.

The next time I looked out of the window the lamp was obscured by a lowering mist, and the great red hand was swinging-and black figures were seen passing under it, as through a black veil-my heart began to feel a little low and sad. But-it was not too late yet for a visit; some of our friends used to come very late; somebody would yet come!

Next time I looked again for my visitor, the mist had fully come down, and I could not see a bit more of the lamp, nor the red glove, nor of the mystical figures passing under it. But as I happened to look upwards, I saw that the sky had cleared, and that the stars shone bright and brilliant; the City of God stood all in light over the earthly city, obscured by mist and darkness. I was struck by the sight of a constellation that I had not seen before; and the truth was, that taken up by earthly objects since a time, I had forgotten to follow up the study of the firmament, that I had begun, with the help of my friend the naturalist. Now I took my map and globe, and began to study; I put out the light in the great drawing-room, so as to leave the starlight alone, and made there my observatory. That side of the room looking towards a square was a fine space of sky to range over; and I began to range among the stars. After a while, I ascertained the names of several of the constellations new to me, and the names of their brightest stars; I made the acquaintance of several greater and smaller notabilities of the higher sphere, and read about them what wise men have thought and said. Then would come of themselves enlarging thoughts about the connexion of our planet and its human beings, and those shining worlds where lights and shadows, and weight and measure, are the same as here, and who, consequently, are related to us in soul and matter, in weal and woe, and who tell us of it in lovely shining stars. All this gave me great pleasure.

The servant came with the tea-tray; I was sitting alone, but had forgotten it. I enjoyed my tea and sandwiches, but only to return fresh to my study; and continued visiting among the stars, and making friends with them, till I felt bodily weary. I looked at the watch,—it was near midnight; I sat down on

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