It was
absolutely
necessary
that I should keep to the quarter; and for more than a year I
knew what are the torments of hunger.
that I should keep to the quarter; and for more than a year I
knew what are the torments of hunger.
Warner - World's Best Literature - v16 to v20 - Phi to Qui
to flatter
him with the hope of my speedy liberation! to restrain my fears
when I embraced him, when I spoke to him of my mother, of
my brothers and my sisters, whom I thought never to behold
again upon earth! to beg him with an unfaltering voice to come
and see me again, if he were able! Nothing ever cost me so
much effort.
He went away greatly comforted, and I returned to my cell
with a tortured heart. I broke out into sobs, yet could not shed
a tear. A burning fever attacked me, accompanied by a violent
headache. I swallowed not even a spoonful of soup the whole
day. "Would this were a mortal illness," I said: "that would
shorten my sufferings. "
Two days afterward my father returned. I had slept well
during the night, and was free from fever.
I resumed my easy
and cheerful deportment, and no one suspected what my heart
had suffered and was yet to suffer. "I trust," said my father,
"that in a few days you will be sent to Turin. We have already
prepared your room, and shall expect you with great anxiety.
My official duties oblige me to return. Endeavor, I pray you, to
join me soon. ”
My heart was torn by his tender and melancholy expressions
of affection. It seemed to me that filial piety required dissimu-
lation, yet I dissembled with a kind of remorse. Would it not
have been more worthy of my father and of myself if I had said
to him: Probably we shall see each other no more in this world!
Let us part like men, without murmuring, without tears; and let
me hear a father's blessing pronounced on my head! "
This language would have been a thousand times more agree-
able to me than disguise. But I looked upon the eyes of that
venerable old man, his features and his gray hairs, and he did
not appear to me to have the strength to hear me speak thus.
And what if, through my unwillingness to deceive him, I had
seen him abandon himself to despair, perhaps fall into a swoon,
perhaps (horrible idea! ) be struck with death in my arms!
could neither tell him the truth nor suffer him to perceive it.
We parted without tears. I returned to my cell tortured as
before, or more fiercely still.
## p. 11271 (#491) ##########################################
SILVIO PELLICO
11271
HIS SUFFERINGS FROM HEAT AND GNATS IN THE PIOMBI
THE winter had been mild; and after some windy weather in
March, the hot season came on. The heat of the air in the den
that I inhabited is indescribable. It faced directly south under
a leaden roof, and with the window opening on the roof of St.
Mark's, also of lead, the reflection from which was tremendous.
I was suffocated. In addition to this suffering, there was such
a multitude of gnats that however I labored to destroy them, I
was covered with them; the bed, the table, the chair, the floor,
the walls, the ceiling,- everything was covered with them; and
the surrounding air contained an infinite number, always going
and coming through the window, and making an infernal buzz-
ing. The stings of these creatures are painful; and being
pierced by them from morning till night, and from night till
morning, with the everlasting vexation of striving to diminish
their number, I suffered frightfully both in body and mind: and
when I was unable to obtain a change of my prison, the thought
of suicide entered my mind, and at times I feared I should be-
come mad.
THE ROMANCE WITH ZANZE
I HAD begged that la Siora Zanze would make my coffee.
This was the daughter of the jailer, who, if she could do it with-
out the knowledge of her mother, made it very strong. More
than once it happened that the coffee was not made by the com-
passionate Zanze, and it was wretched stuff. One day when I
reproved her harshly, as if she had deceived me, the poor girl
wept and said to me:-
"Signore, I have never deceived anybody; and yet every one
calls me a deceiver. "
"Every one? Oh! then I am not the only one who is angry
about this wretched coffee? "
"I do not mean that, signore. Ah, if you only knew! - if I
could pour out my wretched heart into yours! "
"But do not weep so! I ask your pardon. I believe it is
not your fault that I had such bad coffee. "
"I do not weep for that, signore. "
"The cause is something different, then? "
"Yes, truly. "
## p. 11272 (#492) ##########################################
11272
SILVIO PELLICO
"Who calls you a deceiver? »
"My lover. "
Her face was covered with blushes; and in her ingenuous
confidence she related to me a serio-comic idyl which affected
From that day I became the confidant of the girl, and she
was disposed to talk with me a great deal.
me.
"Signore, you are so good," she said to me, "that I look up
to you as a daughter to her father. "
"You pay me a poor compliment," I replied: "I am hardly
thirty-two. "
"Well, then, signore, I will say as a brother. " She seized my
hand, and held it affectionately; and all this was in perfect inno-
cence.
I said to myself afterwards: "It is fortunate she is not a
beauty; otherwise this innocent familiarity might disconcert
me. »
At other times I said: "It is fortunate she is so young! There
can be no danger of my being in love with such a child. ”
At other times I was a little uneasy, from its seeming to me
that I had deceived myself in considering her plain; and I was
obliged to acknowledge that the outlines of her figure were good,
and her features not irregular.
"If she were not so pale," I said, "and had not those few
freckles on her face, she might pass for handsome. "
It is impossible not to find some charm in the presence, looks,
and conversation of a lively and affectionate girl. I had done
nothing to win her kindness; and yet I was dear to her, as
a father or a brother, as I might prefer. Why? Because she
had read the 'Francesca da Rimini,' and the 'Eufemio,' and my
verses made her weep so much! and then I was a prisoner with-
out having, as she said, either robbed or murdered! Now was it
possible that I, who had been attached to the Maddalena without
seeing her, should be indifferent to the sisterly attentions, to the
agreeable flattery, to the excellent coffee of the lively young
Venetian police-girl?
I was not in love with her. But if the sentiment she awoke
in me was not what is called love, I confess that it was some-
thing like it. I desired that she should be happy, that she should
succeed in marrying him who pleased her. I had no jealousy
towards the object of her affection. But when I heard the door
open, my heart beat with the hope that it was Zanze: if it were
## p. 11273 (#493) ##########################################
SILVIO PELLICO
11273
not, I was dissatisfied; if it were, my heart beat yet more strongly,
and I was delighted.
She had a simplicity and lovableness which was seducing.
"I am
so much in love with another man," she said to me,
"yet I love so to stay with you! When I do not see my lover,
I am uneasy everywhere but here; and it seems to me that it is
because I esteem you so very much. " Poor girl! she had the
blessed fault of continually taking my hand and pressing it, and
did not perceive that this pleased and disturbed me at the same
time. Now was I to blame if I wished for her visits with ten-
der solicitude, if I appreciated their sweetness, if I was pleased
to be pitied by her, and requited sympathy with sympathy, since
our thoughts relating to each other were as pure as the purest
thoughts of infancy? since even her taking my hand, and her
most affectionate looks, while they disturbed me, filled me with
a saving reverence?
One evening, while she poured into my heart a great affliction
that she had experienced, the unhappy girl threw her arms upon
my neck, and covered my face with her tears. In this embrace
there was not the shadow of a profane thought. A daughter
could not embrace her father with more respect. Another time,
when she abandoned herself to a similar burst of filial confi-
dence, I quickly unbound myself from her dear arms, and without
pressing her upon my bosom, without kissing her, said stammer-
ing: "Pray do not ever embrace me, Zanze: it is not right. '
She looked into my face, looked down, blushed, and it was the
first time that she read in my soul the possibility of any weak-
ness in relation to her. She did not cease to be familiar with me,
but from that time her familiarity became more respectful, more
in accordance with my wishes; and I was grateful to her for it.
Zanze fell sick. During the first days of her illness she came
to see me, and complained of great pain in her head. She wept,
but did not and would not explain the cause of her tears. She
only stammered of her lover, "He is a bad man; but may God
forgive him! "
"I shall return to-morrow morning," she said one evening.
But my coffee was brought by a prison attendant. He said some
ambiguous things about this girl's love affair, which made my
hair stand on end. A month later she was carried into the
country, and I saw her no more, and my prison became again
like a tomb.
## p. 11274 (#494) ##########################################
11274
SILVIO PELLICO
HIS SUFFERINGS FROM COLD
THE summer being ended, during the last half of September
the heat diminished. October came, and I then rejoiced in hav-
ing a room which would be comfortable in winter. But one
morning the jailer told me that he had orders to change my cell.
"And where am I to go? "
"A few steps from this into a cooler room. »
"And why did you not think of it when I was dying with
heat; when the air was all gnats and the bed all bugs? "
"The order did not come before. "
"Well, patience! let us go. "
Although I had suffered so much in that room, it pained
me to leave it; not only because it would have been best in the
cold season, but for many other reasons. Had not this sad prison
been cheered by the compassion of Zanze? How often she rested
on that window! There she used to sit; in that place she told
me one story, in this another; there she bent over my table, and
her tears dropped upon it.
It [the new room] was in the Piombi, but on the north and
west; an abode of perpetual cold, and of horrible ice in the
severe months.
THE RECEPTION OF THE FINAL SENTENCE
ON THE 21st of February, 1822, the jailer came for me about
ten o'clock in the forenoon. He conducted me to the hall of
the commission, and withdrew. The president, the inquisitor, and
the two assistant judges were seated. They rose. The president,
with an expression of generous commiseration, told me that my
sentence had arrived, and that the judgment had been terrible,
but that the Emperor had mitigated its severity. The inquisi-
tor read the sentence, "Condemned to death. " He then read the
imperial rescript: "The punishment is commuted to fifteen years'
severe imprisonment in the fortress of Spielberg. "
I answered, The will of God be done! " It was truly my
intention to receive this terrible blow as a Christian, and neither
to show nor to indulge resentment against any one.
"We regret," said the inquisitor, "that to-morrow the sentence
must be announced to you in public; but the formality cannot be
dispensed with. "
## p. 11275 (#495) ##########################################
SILVIO PELLICO
11275
"Be it so, then," I said. God had put me to a severe proof.
My duty was to sustain it with fortitude. I could not! I would
not! I had rather hate than forgive. I passed an infernal night.
At nine in the forenoon Maroncelli and I were put into a
gondola. We landed at the palace of the Doge and ascended to
the prisons. We were put into a cell and waited long. It was
not till noon that the inquisitor appeared and announced to us
that it was time to go. The physician was present and proposed
to us to drink a glass of mint-water. We did so, and were
grateful for his kindness. The chief of the guard then put
handcuffs on us. We descended, and between two files of Ger-
man soldiers, passed through the gateway into the Piazzetta, in the
centre of which was the scaffold we were to ascend.
Having mounted the scaffold, we looked around and saw the
immense crowd of people filled with consternation. In several
places at a distance other soldiers were drawn up, and we were
told that cannon with lighted matches were stationed on every
side. The German captain called out to us to turn toward the
palace and look up. We obeyed, and saw upon the open gallery
an officer of the court with a paper in his hand. It was the
sentence. He read it in a loud voice. Profound silence reigned
until he came to the words, "Condemned to death. " Then a
general murmur of compassion arose. Silence again succeeded,
that the reading might be finished. New murmurs arose at
the words "Condemned to severe imprisonment; Maroncelli for
twenty years, and Pellico for fifteen. "
The captain then made a sign for us to descend.
We did so,
again entering the court, reascending the great stairs, and return-
ing to the room from which we had been taken. Our handcuffs
were remov
oved, and we were taken back to San Michele.
―――――
HIS JOURNEY TO THE FINAL PRISON OF THe Spielberg
AFTER the delay of a month and four days, we set out for
the Spielberg in the night between the 25th and 26th of March.
A police servant chained us transversely, the right hand to the
left foot, to render our escape impossible. Six or seven guards,
armed with muskets and sabres, part within the carriage and
part on the box with the driver, completed the convoy of the
commissary.
In passing through the Illyrian and German provinces, the
exclamation was universal, "Poor gentlemen! " In a village of
## p. 11276 (#496) ##########################################
11276
SILVIO PELLICO
Styria, a young girl followed us in the midst of a crowd, and
when our carriage stopped for a few minutes, saluted us with
both hands, then went away with a handkerchief at her eyes,
leaning on the arm of a melancholy-looking young man.
On the 10th of April we arrived at the place of our destina-
tion. About three hundred convicts, for the most part robbers
and assassins, are here confined. Those condemned to severe im-
prisonment (carcere duro) are obliged to labor, to wear chains on
their feet, to sleep on bare planks, and to eat the poorest food
imaginable. Those condemned to very severe imprisonment (car-
cere durissimo) are chained more horribly, with a band of iron
around the waist, and the chain fastened in the wall in such a
way that they can only walk by the side of the planks which
serve them for a bed; their food is the same, although the law
says bread and water. We, prisoners of State, were condemned
to severe imprisonment.
THE FIRST DAY IN THE PRISON OF SPIELBERG
WE WERE Consigned to the superintendent of the prison. Our
names were registered among those of the robbers.
We were
then conducted to a subterranean corridor. A dark room was
opened for each of us, and each was shut up there.
When I found myself alone in this horrible den, and heard
the bolts fastened, and distinguished, by the dim light which fell
from the small high window, the bare planks given me for a
bed, and an enormous chain in the wall, I seated myself on that
bed shuddering; and took up the chain and measured its length,
thinking it was intended for me.
Half an hour after, I heard the keys grate; the door was
opened, and the head jailer brought me a pitcher of water.
"This is to drink," he said, "and to-morrow morning I will
bring the bread, " He turned back asking me how long I had
coughed so badly; and hurled a great curse against the physician
for not coming the same evening to visit me.
"You have a galloping fever," he added: "I can perceive
that you need at least a sack of straw; but till the physician has
ordered it we cannot give it to you. " He went away and closed
the door, and I laid myself on the hard plank, burning with
fever and with strong pain in the breast.
In the evening the superintendent came, accompanied by
the jailer, a corporal, and two soldiers, to make an examination.
## p. 11277 (#497) ##########################################
SILVIO PELLICO
11277
Three daily examinations were prescribed, one in the morning,
one in the evening, and one at midnight. The prisoner is
stripped naked, every corner of the cell and every article of
clothing are strictly examined.
The first time I saw this troop, being then ignorant of those
vexatious usages, and delirious from the fever, I fancied they
had started to kill me, and grasped the long chain that was near
me to break the head of the first who should approach me.
"What are you doing? " said the superintendent: "we are not
come to do you any harm. This is a visit of formality to all
the cells, to assure ourselves that there is no irregularity there. "
The jailer stretched out his hand; I let go the chain and took
his hand between mine.
"How it burns! " said he to the superintendent.
HIS FIRST EXPERIENCE OF THE DIET OF THE SPIELBERG PRISON
ON THURSDAY morning, two hours after the visitation had
been made. the jailer brought me a piece of brown bread, saying:
"This is your portion for two days. "
At eleven my dinner was brought by a convict, accompanied
by Schiller the jailer. It consisted of two iron pots, one contain-
ing very bad broth, the other beans seasoned with such a sauce
that the mere smell brought disgust. I attempted to swallow
some spoonfuls of broth, but it was not possible for me. Schiller
kept saying, over and over again, "Have courage: get yourself
accustomed to this food; otherwise it will happen to you as it
has to others, to eat nothing but a little bread, and then die of
weakness. "
HE ASSUMES THE PRISON UNIFORM
FIVE days after this, my prison dress was brought me. It
consisted of a pair of pantaloons of coarse cloth, the right side
gray, the left of capuchin color [chocolate]; a waistcoat of the two
colors disposed in the same way; and a roundabout coat of the
same colors, but arranged in the opposite way. The stockings
were of coarse wool, the shirt of tow-cloth full of shives, a real
hair-cloth; and round the neck was a piece of cloth like the shirt.
The brogans were of uncolored leather, laced. The hat was
white. This livery was completed by a chain from one leg to
the other, the cuffs of which were closed by rivets headed down
on an anvil.
## p. 11278 (#498) ##########################################
11278
SILVIO PELLICO
HE TRIES TO LIVE ON THE "QUARTER-PORTION"
THE physician, seeing that none of us could eat the kind of
food that had been given us, put us upon what was called the
quarter-portion; that is, the diet of the hospital. This was some
very thin soup three times a day, a small piece of roast lamb
that might be swallowed at a mouthful, and perhaps three ounces
of white bread. As my health improved, that quarter was too
little. I tried to return to the food of the well, but it was so
disgusting that I could not eat it.
It was absolutely necessary
that I should keep to the quarter; and for more than a year I
knew what are the torments of hunger.
Our barber, a young man who came to us every Saturday,
said to me one day, "It is reported in the city that they give
you gentlemen but little to eat. "
"It is very true," I replied. The next Saturday he brought
and offered me secretly a large loaf of white bread. Schiller pre-
tended not to see him offer it. If I had listened to my stomach,
I should have accepted it; but I stood firm in refusing, lest the
poor young man should be tempted to repeat his gift, which some
day might be a heavy mischief to him.
THE COMFORT AND THE PANG OF SYMPATHY
f us
"A
as
IT WAS from the first an established rule that each
should be permitted to walk for an hour twice a week.
pleasant walk to you! " each whispered through the opening
I passed his door; but I was not allowed to stop to salute y
one. In the court we met several passing Italian robbers, 10
saluted me with great respect, and said among themselves, "
is not a rogue like us, yet his imprisonment is more severe th
ours. " One of them once said to me, "Your greeting, signore
does me good. An unhappy passion dragged me to commit a
crime: O signore, I am not, indeed I am not, a villain. " Then
he burst into tears.
One morning, as I was returning from walking, the door of
Oroboni's cell stood open; Schiller was within, and had not heard
me coming. My guards stepped forward to close the door; but I
anticipated them, darted in, and was in the arms of Oroboni.
Schiller was dumbfounded. "Der Teufel! der Teufel! " he cried;
and raised his finger threateningly. But his eyes filled with tears,
and he exclaimed, "O my God, have mercy on these poor young
## p. 11279 (#499) ##########################################
SILVIO PELLICO
11279
men, and on me, and on all the unhappy, Thou who didst suffer
so much upon earth! " The guards shed tears also.
Oroboni said, «< Silvio, Silvio, this is one of the most pre-
cious days of my life! " When Schiller conjured us to separate,
and we were forced to obey him, Oroboni burst into a flood of
tears and said, "Shall we never see each other again upon
earth? " I never did see him more. Some months afterward
his room
was empty, and Oroboni was lying in that cemetery
which I had in front of my window.
AOLO [alone] -
PAOLO
Paolo-
MEETING OF FRANCESCA AND PAOLO
From Francesca da Rimini'
My love
To go,
To look on her for the last time.
Renders me deaf to duty's voice.
To see her nevermore, were sacred duty.
I cannot that. Oh, how she looked at me!
Grief makes her still more beautiful; ah, yes,
More beautiful, more superhuman fair
She seems to me: and have I lost her too?
Has Lanciotto snatched her from my arms?
Oh, maddening thought! Oh! oh! do I not love
My brother? Happy he is now, and long
May he be so.
But what? to build his own
Sweet lot must he a brother's heart-strings break?
Francesca [advancing without seeing Paolo]-
Francesca-
Where is my father? At the least from him
I might have known if he still lodges here.
My brother-in-law! These walls I ever shall
Hold dear. Ah, yes, his spirit will exhale
Upon this sacred soil which he has wet
With tears! O impious woman, chase away
Such criminal thoughts: I am a wife!
In a soliloquy, and groans.
Alas,
This place I must forsake: it is too full
Of him! To my own private altar I
Must go apart, and day and night, prostrate
Before my God, beg mercy for my sins;
--
She talks
## p. 11280 (#500) ##########################################
11280
SILVIO PELLICO
Paolo-
Francesca
Paolo-
Francesca
Paolo-
Francesca
Paolo-
Francesca
Paolo-
Francesca
Paolo-
That He, the Lord and only refuge of
Afflicted hearts, will not abandon me
Entire.
Francesca
-
Sir- what wilt thou?
[She starts to go.
Oh! what do I see!
To speak with me?
To speak with thee again.
Alas, I am alone! —
O father, father, where art thou? Dost thou
Leave me alone? Thy own, thy daughter save!
I shall have strength to flee.
Abhor me.
Whither?
Alas, pursue me not! my wish respect;
To my house altar here I am retiring:
Th' unfortunate have need of heaven.
Paolo,
Alas! what do I say? Alas, weep not.
Thy death I do not ask.
Oh, sir-
O lady!
Paternal altars I will come to kneel
With thee. Who more unfortunate than I?
There shall our mingled thoughts ascend.
Thou shalt invoke my death, the death of him
Thou dost abhor. I too will pray that Heaven
Thy vows will hear, forgive thy hatred and
Pour joy into thy soul, and long preserve
The youth and beauty in thy looks, and give thee
All thy desire-all, all! -thy consort's love and
Beautiful children of him!
At my
Only thou dost
And what carest thou for it, if
I must abhor thee? I mar not thy life.
To-morrow I no longer shall be here.
Francesca, if thou dost abhor me, what
Is that to me? and this thou askest, thou?
And does thy hate disturb my life? and these
Funereal words are thine? — Thou, beautiful
As a bright angel whom the Deity,
In the most ardent transport of his love,
Created, dear to every one, and thou
A happy consort, - darest to talk of death.
Me it befalls that for vain honor's sake
## p. 11281 (#501) ##########################################
SILVIO PELLICO
11281
Francesca -
Paolo-
Francesca
Paolo-
Francesca
Paolo-
Francesca -
I have been dragged from fatherland afar,
And lost. Unhappy wretch! I lost a father.
Hope always clung to re-embrace him. He
Would not have made me an unfortunate,
If I had opened up my heart to him;
And would have given me her- her whom I've lost
For aye.
What dost thou mean? Talk of thy lady-
And dost thou live so wretched robbed of her?
Is love so prepotential in thy breast?
Love should not be the only flame that burns
In the bosom of a valorous cavalier.
Dear to him is his brand, and dear the trump
Of fame; noble affections these: pursue them.
Let not love make thee vile.
Is this?
What words are these?
Wouldst thou have pity? Wouldst thou still be able
Somewhat to cease thy hatred, if I should
With my good sword acquire some greater fame?
One word of thy command, 'tis done. Prescribe
The place, the years. To shores the most remote
I'll make my way; the graver I shall find
The enterprises, and the fuller fraught
With danger, so the sweeter they will be
To me, because Francesca laid them on me.
Honor and hardihood before have made
My sinews strong, but thy adorèd name
Will make them stronger. And, with thee intent,
Of tyrants now my glories will not be
Contaminate. Another crown than bay,
But woven still by thee, will I desire.
One single plaudit thine, one word, one smile,
One look-
Eternal God! what sort of man
Francesca, I love thee, I love thee,
And desperate is my love.
What do I hear!
Am I in a delirium? What didst
Thou say?
XIX-706
I love thee.
They might o'erhear.
So sudden? Dost not
Why so bold? hush, hush!
Thou lov'st me! Is thy flame
know I am thy own
## p. 11282 (#502) ##########################################
11282
SILVIO PELLICO
Paolo-
Francesca
Paolo-
Francesca
Paolo -
Francesca
Paolo-
―
Sister-in-law? So quickly canst thou cast
Into oblivion thy lady lost?
Oh, wretched me! let go this hand of mine!
Thy kisses, oh, are crimes!
No, no; my flame
Is not a sudden flash. A lady I
Have lost, and thou art she; of thee I spoke;
For thee I wept; thee did I love, do love thee,
Shall love thee always till my latest hour!
And even if I must in the world below
Th' eternal penance bear of wicked love,
Eternally I'll love thee more and more.
Shall it be true? Was't me that thou didst love?
The day that at Ravenna I arrived,
Yes, from that day I loved thee.
Leave off; thou loved'st me?
-
―――――
Then some time this flame
I did conceal, but still one day it seemed
That thou hadst read my heart. Thy steps thou wast
Directing from thy maiden chambers toward
Thy secret garden. I, beside the lake,
Stretched out at length among the flowers,
Thy chambers watched, and at thy coming rose
Trembling. Upon a book thy wandering eyes
Seemed to me not intent; upon the book
There fell a tear. Flushed with emotion, thou
Didst draw thee near to me, and then we read, —
Together read: "Of Lanciotto, how
Love bound him,”—and alone we were, without
Any suspicion near us. Then our looks
Encountered one another, and my face
Whitened, thou didst tremble, and with haste
Didst vanish.
Thou, alas!
What an escapade! With thee
The book remained.
It used to make me
Sojourn. Here 'tis.
Here 'tis.
Look here and see;
From thy own eyes.
It lies upon my heart.
happy in my far
See, here the page we read.
here fell the tears that day,
Translation of J. F. Bingham.
## p. 11283 (#503) ##########################################
11283
SAMUEL PEPYS.
(1633-1703)
BY ARTHUR GEORGE PESKETT
EN THE front of the Pepysian Library at Magdalene College,
Cambridge, is inscribed the sentence from Cicero that Sam-
uel Pepys chose as his motto: "Mens cuiusque is est quisque »
-"The mind makes the man. " To those who regard him as a mix-
ture of garrulous diarist and painstaking official the motto may seem
inappropriate, for seen in this aspect alone he reaches no high level
of intellectual attainment; but to all who
have followed his career to its close and
learned to know him better, the phrase suf-
ficiently indicates his attitude towards the
world at large. Himself a man of keen
intelligence and great practical sagacity,
he was extraordinarily quick to gauge and
appraise the intelligence of others. Numer-
ous passages of his diary attest this ready
insight into the character and intellectual
merits of his contemporaries, and the de-
light that he took in the society of those
who, possessing information on any subject,
no matter what its nature, could impart it
agreeably. Pleasant discourse with friend
or chance acquaintance upon topics grave or gay, trivial or weighty,
is as sure to be recorded as important details of business or of State
policy. He was a man of unbounded curiosity: to use his own quaint
expression, he was always "with child to see any strange thing. "
With these more intellectual traits was united an inexhaustible
capacity for purely animal enjoyment of life. It is this universality
of human interest that makes him one of the most engaging charac-
ters in history, and his diary a unique production of literature. It
was this same keen zest and interest in human affairs that stimulated
him to become one of the most zealous and capable secretaries that
the Admiralty Board has ever had. And we must add also that it
was this many-sided enjoyment of life that led him frequently to in-
dulge in pleasures that shock the stricter decorum of the present age.
These characteristics, moreover, were combined with a naïve simplicity
SAMUEL PEPYS
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SAMUEL PEPYS
and a childlike vanity that amaze, as much as they delight, the readers
of his artless self-revelations. As a public functionary, if he did not
quite reach the high standard of integrity required in these days, he
was at any rate far in advance of many — perhaps the majority — of his
contemporaries in the employ of the State, while his patriotism was
always above question. Though constitutionally timid, he neverthe-
less possessed that moral courage which prevents a man from shirk-
ing his duty in moments of danger or difficulty. All through the
Plague, when there was a general flight from London, he remained
in or near town, and went on with his official work much as usual;
nor does the diary contain a single expression of self-satisfaction at
his own conduct in the matter. In disposition he was irascible and
prone to undignified outbursts of temper, of which he was afterwards
heartily ashamed. As to his religious views,- for they must be taken
into account in estimating his character,- he lived and died in the
accepted faith of a Christian; but his religion was strongly tinged
with superstition, and exercised no potent influence over his early
life. He was a regular attendant at church, and an uncompromising
critic of sermons unless his attention was distracted by a fair face in
a neighboring pew. He exclaims "God forgive me if he strings his
lute or reads "little French romances >> or makes up his accounts on
a Sunday; but he omits to seek the Divine forgiveness when, after
attending two services, he flirts with a pretty young woman who he
fears "is not so good as she ought to be. " He loved and admired
his wife, and was jealous of her; but he was a faithless spouse, and
gravely recorded in his diary the minutest particulars of his amours.
Such, in its curious blending of strength and weakness, meanness
and greatness, was the character of Samuel Pepys. A distinguished
critic, James Russell Lowell, has called him a Philistine. If the term
implies a man of somewhat coarse tastes, with no aptitude for pro-
found thought, with no fine literary instinct and no subtle sense of
humor, then and then only is the reproach a just one; for few will
admit that a man of acknowledged capacity in affairs, one who after
his great speech in defense of the Navy Board at the bar of the
House of Commons was greeted as the most eloquent speaker of the
age and as "another Cicero,” — a man who was president of the
Royal Society, and was pronounced by competent judges a fit person
to be provost of the great foundation of Henry VI. at Cambridge,-
could fairly be called a Philistine in the ordinary sense of the word.
But Pepys may justly claim to be judged by his works; and two
abiding memorials bear striking testimony to the varied merits of his
singular personality, -the Library and the Diary. It may be useful
to give a short account of each of them.
-
It seems probable that Pepys began his book collecting in the
year 1660; when his appointment, through the influence of his cousin
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SAMUEL PEPYS
11285
and patron Sir Edward Montagu, to a secretaryship in the office of
Mr. Downing, and then to the clerkship of the Acts, gave him for the
first time a sufficient income. Frequent references to the purchase of
books will be found in the Diary, the binding sometimes proving a
greater attraction than the contents. For instance, he writes May 15th,
1660: "Bought for the love of the binding three books: the French
Psalms in four parts, Bacon's 'Organon,' and 'Farnab. Rhetor. '» So
by slow degrees was amassed a library which at its owner's death
contained three thousand volumes,- -an unusual size for a private
library of that day. As clerk to the Acts, and afterwards secretary
to the Admiralty,- an office which he held from 1669 till the change
of government in 1689,- he acquired a considerable number of valua-
ble books and MSS. on naval affairs, which he intended to serve as
material for a projected history of the English navy. Among other
treasures are five large volumes of ballads or "broadsides," mostly in
black-letter; three of State Papers, the gift of John Evelyn; three
volumes of portraits in "taille-douce," collected apparently in re-
sponse to a suggestion in a long and valuable letter from Evelyn,
dated August 12th, 1689;* three of calligraphical collections; six of
prints general; two of frontispieces in taille-douce; two of views
and maps of London and Westminster; several early printed books,
including some by Caxton and Wynkyn de Worde; the 'Libro de
Cargos,' —a MS. list of the provisions and munitions of each ship in
the Spanish Armada, compiled by the "Proveedor" of the Fleet,
Bernabe de Pedroso; two MS. volumes of the Maitland poems; an
account of the escape of Charles II. from Worcester, taken down in
shorthand from the King's own dictation; and many other rarities
too numerous to mention.
These books- except a few of the largest, which are in the
cupboards of an old writing-table- were placed in twelve handsome
presses of dark stained oak, in which they may still be seen in Mag-
dalene College. The arranging, indexing, and cataloguing of so large
a collection occupied much of Pepys's time, and that of his able
assistant Paul Lorrain; and the whole library bears evidence to the
minute care bestowed on its preservation. It was left by will to
his nephew and heir John Jackson, second son of his sister Paulina,
who once occupied the curious position of domestic servant in her
brother's house. John Jackson was of great help to Pepys in the
collection of his prints and drawings; traveling on the Continent, ap-
parently at his uncle's expense, and bringing home numerous treas-
ures to be enshrined in the library. On Pepys's death in 1703, the
library passed into Jackson's hands; and on his death in 1724, it was
transferred, in accordance with the diarist's will, to his own and his
* See 'Diary and Correspondence of John Evelyn' (London, Bickers &
Son, 1879), Vol. iii. , pages 435 ff.
## p. 11286 (#506) ##########################################
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SAMUEL PEPYS
nephew's college of St. Mary Magdalene, there to be preserved in
perpetuity. An interesting testimony to the care bestowed on the
library by Jackson is afforded by the following entries, with his sig-
nature attached, in one of the catalogues: "Review'd and finally
Placed August 1st, 1705: No one of ye 2474 Books contained in the
foregoing Catalogue being then wanting. Jackson.
him with the hope of my speedy liberation! to restrain my fears
when I embraced him, when I spoke to him of my mother, of
my brothers and my sisters, whom I thought never to behold
again upon earth! to beg him with an unfaltering voice to come
and see me again, if he were able! Nothing ever cost me so
much effort.
He went away greatly comforted, and I returned to my cell
with a tortured heart. I broke out into sobs, yet could not shed
a tear. A burning fever attacked me, accompanied by a violent
headache. I swallowed not even a spoonful of soup the whole
day. "Would this were a mortal illness," I said: "that would
shorten my sufferings. "
Two days afterward my father returned. I had slept well
during the night, and was free from fever.
I resumed my easy
and cheerful deportment, and no one suspected what my heart
had suffered and was yet to suffer. "I trust," said my father,
"that in a few days you will be sent to Turin. We have already
prepared your room, and shall expect you with great anxiety.
My official duties oblige me to return. Endeavor, I pray you, to
join me soon. ”
My heart was torn by his tender and melancholy expressions
of affection. It seemed to me that filial piety required dissimu-
lation, yet I dissembled with a kind of remorse. Would it not
have been more worthy of my father and of myself if I had said
to him: Probably we shall see each other no more in this world!
Let us part like men, without murmuring, without tears; and let
me hear a father's blessing pronounced on my head! "
This language would have been a thousand times more agree-
able to me than disguise. But I looked upon the eyes of that
venerable old man, his features and his gray hairs, and he did
not appear to me to have the strength to hear me speak thus.
And what if, through my unwillingness to deceive him, I had
seen him abandon himself to despair, perhaps fall into a swoon,
perhaps (horrible idea! ) be struck with death in my arms!
could neither tell him the truth nor suffer him to perceive it.
We parted without tears. I returned to my cell tortured as
before, or more fiercely still.
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11271
HIS SUFFERINGS FROM HEAT AND GNATS IN THE PIOMBI
THE winter had been mild; and after some windy weather in
March, the hot season came on. The heat of the air in the den
that I inhabited is indescribable. It faced directly south under
a leaden roof, and with the window opening on the roof of St.
Mark's, also of lead, the reflection from which was tremendous.
I was suffocated. In addition to this suffering, there was such
a multitude of gnats that however I labored to destroy them, I
was covered with them; the bed, the table, the chair, the floor,
the walls, the ceiling,- everything was covered with them; and
the surrounding air contained an infinite number, always going
and coming through the window, and making an infernal buzz-
ing. The stings of these creatures are painful; and being
pierced by them from morning till night, and from night till
morning, with the everlasting vexation of striving to diminish
their number, I suffered frightfully both in body and mind: and
when I was unable to obtain a change of my prison, the thought
of suicide entered my mind, and at times I feared I should be-
come mad.
THE ROMANCE WITH ZANZE
I HAD begged that la Siora Zanze would make my coffee.
This was the daughter of the jailer, who, if she could do it with-
out the knowledge of her mother, made it very strong. More
than once it happened that the coffee was not made by the com-
passionate Zanze, and it was wretched stuff. One day when I
reproved her harshly, as if she had deceived me, the poor girl
wept and said to me:-
"Signore, I have never deceived anybody; and yet every one
calls me a deceiver. "
"Every one? Oh! then I am not the only one who is angry
about this wretched coffee? "
"I do not mean that, signore. Ah, if you only knew! - if I
could pour out my wretched heart into yours! "
"But do not weep so! I ask your pardon. I believe it is
not your fault that I had such bad coffee. "
"I do not weep for that, signore. "
"The cause is something different, then? "
"Yes, truly. "
## p. 11272 (#492) ##########################################
11272
SILVIO PELLICO
"Who calls you a deceiver? »
"My lover. "
Her face was covered with blushes; and in her ingenuous
confidence she related to me a serio-comic idyl which affected
From that day I became the confidant of the girl, and she
was disposed to talk with me a great deal.
me.
"Signore, you are so good," she said to me, "that I look up
to you as a daughter to her father. "
"You pay me a poor compliment," I replied: "I am hardly
thirty-two. "
"Well, then, signore, I will say as a brother. " She seized my
hand, and held it affectionately; and all this was in perfect inno-
cence.
I said to myself afterwards: "It is fortunate she is not a
beauty; otherwise this innocent familiarity might disconcert
me. »
At other times I said: "It is fortunate she is so young! There
can be no danger of my being in love with such a child. ”
At other times I was a little uneasy, from its seeming to me
that I had deceived myself in considering her plain; and I was
obliged to acknowledge that the outlines of her figure were good,
and her features not irregular.
"If she were not so pale," I said, "and had not those few
freckles on her face, she might pass for handsome. "
It is impossible not to find some charm in the presence, looks,
and conversation of a lively and affectionate girl. I had done
nothing to win her kindness; and yet I was dear to her, as
a father or a brother, as I might prefer. Why? Because she
had read the 'Francesca da Rimini,' and the 'Eufemio,' and my
verses made her weep so much! and then I was a prisoner with-
out having, as she said, either robbed or murdered! Now was it
possible that I, who had been attached to the Maddalena without
seeing her, should be indifferent to the sisterly attentions, to the
agreeable flattery, to the excellent coffee of the lively young
Venetian police-girl?
I was not in love with her. But if the sentiment she awoke
in me was not what is called love, I confess that it was some-
thing like it. I desired that she should be happy, that she should
succeed in marrying him who pleased her. I had no jealousy
towards the object of her affection. But when I heard the door
open, my heart beat with the hope that it was Zanze: if it were
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SILVIO PELLICO
11273
not, I was dissatisfied; if it were, my heart beat yet more strongly,
and I was delighted.
She had a simplicity and lovableness which was seducing.
"I am
so much in love with another man," she said to me,
"yet I love so to stay with you! When I do not see my lover,
I am uneasy everywhere but here; and it seems to me that it is
because I esteem you so very much. " Poor girl! she had the
blessed fault of continually taking my hand and pressing it, and
did not perceive that this pleased and disturbed me at the same
time. Now was I to blame if I wished for her visits with ten-
der solicitude, if I appreciated their sweetness, if I was pleased
to be pitied by her, and requited sympathy with sympathy, since
our thoughts relating to each other were as pure as the purest
thoughts of infancy? since even her taking my hand, and her
most affectionate looks, while they disturbed me, filled me with
a saving reverence?
One evening, while she poured into my heart a great affliction
that she had experienced, the unhappy girl threw her arms upon
my neck, and covered my face with her tears. In this embrace
there was not the shadow of a profane thought. A daughter
could not embrace her father with more respect. Another time,
when she abandoned herself to a similar burst of filial confi-
dence, I quickly unbound myself from her dear arms, and without
pressing her upon my bosom, without kissing her, said stammer-
ing: "Pray do not ever embrace me, Zanze: it is not right. '
She looked into my face, looked down, blushed, and it was the
first time that she read in my soul the possibility of any weak-
ness in relation to her. She did not cease to be familiar with me,
but from that time her familiarity became more respectful, more
in accordance with my wishes; and I was grateful to her for it.
Zanze fell sick. During the first days of her illness she came
to see me, and complained of great pain in her head. She wept,
but did not and would not explain the cause of her tears. She
only stammered of her lover, "He is a bad man; but may God
forgive him! "
"I shall return to-morrow morning," she said one evening.
But my coffee was brought by a prison attendant. He said some
ambiguous things about this girl's love affair, which made my
hair stand on end. A month later she was carried into the
country, and I saw her no more, and my prison became again
like a tomb.
## p. 11274 (#494) ##########################################
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SILVIO PELLICO
HIS SUFFERINGS FROM COLD
THE summer being ended, during the last half of September
the heat diminished. October came, and I then rejoiced in hav-
ing a room which would be comfortable in winter. But one
morning the jailer told me that he had orders to change my cell.
"And where am I to go? "
"A few steps from this into a cooler room. »
"And why did you not think of it when I was dying with
heat; when the air was all gnats and the bed all bugs? "
"The order did not come before. "
"Well, patience! let us go. "
Although I had suffered so much in that room, it pained
me to leave it; not only because it would have been best in the
cold season, but for many other reasons. Had not this sad prison
been cheered by the compassion of Zanze? How often she rested
on that window! There she used to sit; in that place she told
me one story, in this another; there she bent over my table, and
her tears dropped upon it.
It [the new room] was in the Piombi, but on the north and
west; an abode of perpetual cold, and of horrible ice in the
severe months.
THE RECEPTION OF THE FINAL SENTENCE
ON THE 21st of February, 1822, the jailer came for me about
ten o'clock in the forenoon. He conducted me to the hall of
the commission, and withdrew. The president, the inquisitor, and
the two assistant judges were seated. They rose. The president,
with an expression of generous commiseration, told me that my
sentence had arrived, and that the judgment had been terrible,
but that the Emperor had mitigated its severity. The inquisi-
tor read the sentence, "Condemned to death. " He then read the
imperial rescript: "The punishment is commuted to fifteen years'
severe imprisonment in the fortress of Spielberg. "
I answered, The will of God be done! " It was truly my
intention to receive this terrible blow as a Christian, and neither
to show nor to indulge resentment against any one.
"We regret," said the inquisitor, "that to-morrow the sentence
must be announced to you in public; but the formality cannot be
dispensed with. "
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SILVIO PELLICO
11275
"Be it so, then," I said. God had put me to a severe proof.
My duty was to sustain it with fortitude. I could not! I would
not! I had rather hate than forgive. I passed an infernal night.
At nine in the forenoon Maroncelli and I were put into a
gondola. We landed at the palace of the Doge and ascended to
the prisons. We were put into a cell and waited long. It was
not till noon that the inquisitor appeared and announced to us
that it was time to go. The physician was present and proposed
to us to drink a glass of mint-water. We did so, and were
grateful for his kindness. The chief of the guard then put
handcuffs on us. We descended, and between two files of Ger-
man soldiers, passed through the gateway into the Piazzetta, in the
centre of which was the scaffold we were to ascend.
Having mounted the scaffold, we looked around and saw the
immense crowd of people filled with consternation. In several
places at a distance other soldiers were drawn up, and we were
told that cannon with lighted matches were stationed on every
side. The German captain called out to us to turn toward the
palace and look up. We obeyed, and saw upon the open gallery
an officer of the court with a paper in his hand. It was the
sentence. He read it in a loud voice. Profound silence reigned
until he came to the words, "Condemned to death. " Then a
general murmur of compassion arose. Silence again succeeded,
that the reading might be finished. New murmurs arose at
the words "Condemned to severe imprisonment; Maroncelli for
twenty years, and Pellico for fifteen. "
The captain then made a sign for us to descend.
We did so,
again entering the court, reascending the great stairs, and return-
ing to the room from which we had been taken. Our handcuffs
were remov
oved, and we were taken back to San Michele.
―――――
HIS JOURNEY TO THE FINAL PRISON OF THe Spielberg
AFTER the delay of a month and four days, we set out for
the Spielberg in the night between the 25th and 26th of March.
A police servant chained us transversely, the right hand to the
left foot, to render our escape impossible. Six or seven guards,
armed with muskets and sabres, part within the carriage and
part on the box with the driver, completed the convoy of the
commissary.
In passing through the Illyrian and German provinces, the
exclamation was universal, "Poor gentlemen! " In a village of
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SILVIO PELLICO
Styria, a young girl followed us in the midst of a crowd, and
when our carriage stopped for a few minutes, saluted us with
both hands, then went away with a handkerchief at her eyes,
leaning on the arm of a melancholy-looking young man.
On the 10th of April we arrived at the place of our destina-
tion. About three hundred convicts, for the most part robbers
and assassins, are here confined. Those condemned to severe im-
prisonment (carcere duro) are obliged to labor, to wear chains on
their feet, to sleep on bare planks, and to eat the poorest food
imaginable. Those condemned to very severe imprisonment (car-
cere durissimo) are chained more horribly, with a band of iron
around the waist, and the chain fastened in the wall in such a
way that they can only walk by the side of the planks which
serve them for a bed; their food is the same, although the law
says bread and water. We, prisoners of State, were condemned
to severe imprisonment.
THE FIRST DAY IN THE PRISON OF SPIELBERG
WE WERE Consigned to the superintendent of the prison. Our
names were registered among those of the robbers.
We were
then conducted to a subterranean corridor. A dark room was
opened for each of us, and each was shut up there.
When I found myself alone in this horrible den, and heard
the bolts fastened, and distinguished, by the dim light which fell
from the small high window, the bare planks given me for a
bed, and an enormous chain in the wall, I seated myself on that
bed shuddering; and took up the chain and measured its length,
thinking it was intended for me.
Half an hour after, I heard the keys grate; the door was
opened, and the head jailer brought me a pitcher of water.
"This is to drink," he said, "and to-morrow morning I will
bring the bread, " He turned back asking me how long I had
coughed so badly; and hurled a great curse against the physician
for not coming the same evening to visit me.
"You have a galloping fever," he added: "I can perceive
that you need at least a sack of straw; but till the physician has
ordered it we cannot give it to you. " He went away and closed
the door, and I laid myself on the hard plank, burning with
fever and with strong pain in the breast.
In the evening the superintendent came, accompanied by
the jailer, a corporal, and two soldiers, to make an examination.
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SILVIO PELLICO
11277
Three daily examinations were prescribed, one in the morning,
one in the evening, and one at midnight. The prisoner is
stripped naked, every corner of the cell and every article of
clothing are strictly examined.
The first time I saw this troop, being then ignorant of those
vexatious usages, and delirious from the fever, I fancied they
had started to kill me, and grasped the long chain that was near
me to break the head of the first who should approach me.
"What are you doing? " said the superintendent: "we are not
come to do you any harm. This is a visit of formality to all
the cells, to assure ourselves that there is no irregularity there. "
The jailer stretched out his hand; I let go the chain and took
his hand between mine.
"How it burns! " said he to the superintendent.
HIS FIRST EXPERIENCE OF THE DIET OF THE SPIELBERG PRISON
ON THURSDAY morning, two hours after the visitation had
been made. the jailer brought me a piece of brown bread, saying:
"This is your portion for two days. "
At eleven my dinner was brought by a convict, accompanied
by Schiller the jailer. It consisted of two iron pots, one contain-
ing very bad broth, the other beans seasoned with such a sauce
that the mere smell brought disgust. I attempted to swallow
some spoonfuls of broth, but it was not possible for me. Schiller
kept saying, over and over again, "Have courage: get yourself
accustomed to this food; otherwise it will happen to you as it
has to others, to eat nothing but a little bread, and then die of
weakness. "
HE ASSUMES THE PRISON UNIFORM
FIVE days after this, my prison dress was brought me. It
consisted of a pair of pantaloons of coarse cloth, the right side
gray, the left of capuchin color [chocolate]; a waistcoat of the two
colors disposed in the same way; and a roundabout coat of the
same colors, but arranged in the opposite way. The stockings
were of coarse wool, the shirt of tow-cloth full of shives, a real
hair-cloth; and round the neck was a piece of cloth like the shirt.
The brogans were of uncolored leather, laced. The hat was
white. This livery was completed by a chain from one leg to
the other, the cuffs of which were closed by rivets headed down
on an anvil.
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SILVIO PELLICO
HE TRIES TO LIVE ON THE "QUARTER-PORTION"
THE physician, seeing that none of us could eat the kind of
food that had been given us, put us upon what was called the
quarter-portion; that is, the diet of the hospital. This was some
very thin soup three times a day, a small piece of roast lamb
that might be swallowed at a mouthful, and perhaps three ounces
of white bread. As my health improved, that quarter was too
little. I tried to return to the food of the well, but it was so
disgusting that I could not eat it.
It was absolutely necessary
that I should keep to the quarter; and for more than a year I
knew what are the torments of hunger.
Our barber, a young man who came to us every Saturday,
said to me one day, "It is reported in the city that they give
you gentlemen but little to eat. "
"It is very true," I replied. The next Saturday he brought
and offered me secretly a large loaf of white bread. Schiller pre-
tended not to see him offer it. If I had listened to my stomach,
I should have accepted it; but I stood firm in refusing, lest the
poor young man should be tempted to repeat his gift, which some
day might be a heavy mischief to him.
THE COMFORT AND THE PANG OF SYMPATHY
f us
"A
as
IT WAS from the first an established rule that each
should be permitted to walk for an hour twice a week.
pleasant walk to you! " each whispered through the opening
I passed his door; but I was not allowed to stop to salute y
one. In the court we met several passing Italian robbers, 10
saluted me with great respect, and said among themselves, "
is not a rogue like us, yet his imprisonment is more severe th
ours. " One of them once said to me, "Your greeting, signore
does me good. An unhappy passion dragged me to commit a
crime: O signore, I am not, indeed I am not, a villain. " Then
he burst into tears.
One morning, as I was returning from walking, the door of
Oroboni's cell stood open; Schiller was within, and had not heard
me coming. My guards stepped forward to close the door; but I
anticipated them, darted in, and was in the arms of Oroboni.
Schiller was dumbfounded. "Der Teufel! der Teufel! " he cried;
and raised his finger threateningly. But his eyes filled with tears,
and he exclaimed, "O my God, have mercy on these poor young
## p. 11279 (#499) ##########################################
SILVIO PELLICO
11279
men, and on me, and on all the unhappy, Thou who didst suffer
so much upon earth! " The guards shed tears also.
Oroboni said, «< Silvio, Silvio, this is one of the most pre-
cious days of my life! " When Schiller conjured us to separate,
and we were forced to obey him, Oroboni burst into a flood of
tears and said, "Shall we never see each other again upon
earth? " I never did see him more. Some months afterward
his room
was empty, and Oroboni was lying in that cemetery
which I had in front of my window.
AOLO [alone] -
PAOLO
Paolo-
MEETING OF FRANCESCA AND PAOLO
From Francesca da Rimini'
My love
To go,
To look on her for the last time.
Renders me deaf to duty's voice.
To see her nevermore, were sacred duty.
I cannot that. Oh, how she looked at me!
Grief makes her still more beautiful; ah, yes,
More beautiful, more superhuman fair
She seems to me: and have I lost her too?
Has Lanciotto snatched her from my arms?
Oh, maddening thought! Oh! oh! do I not love
My brother? Happy he is now, and long
May he be so.
But what? to build his own
Sweet lot must he a brother's heart-strings break?
Francesca [advancing without seeing Paolo]-
Francesca-
Where is my father? At the least from him
I might have known if he still lodges here.
My brother-in-law! These walls I ever shall
Hold dear. Ah, yes, his spirit will exhale
Upon this sacred soil which he has wet
With tears! O impious woman, chase away
Such criminal thoughts: I am a wife!
In a soliloquy, and groans.
Alas,
This place I must forsake: it is too full
Of him! To my own private altar I
Must go apart, and day and night, prostrate
Before my God, beg mercy for my sins;
--
She talks
## p. 11280 (#500) ##########################################
11280
SILVIO PELLICO
Paolo-
Francesca
Paolo-
Francesca
Paolo-
Francesca
Paolo-
Francesca
Paolo-
Francesca
Paolo-
That He, the Lord and only refuge of
Afflicted hearts, will not abandon me
Entire.
Francesca
-
Sir- what wilt thou?
[She starts to go.
Oh! what do I see!
To speak with me?
To speak with thee again.
Alas, I am alone! —
O father, father, where art thou? Dost thou
Leave me alone? Thy own, thy daughter save!
I shall have strength to flee.
Abhor me.
Whither?
Alas, pursue me not! my wish respect;
To my house altar here I am retiring:
Th' unfortunate have need of heaven.
Paolo,
Alas! what do I say? Alas, weep not.
Thy death I do not ask.
Oh, sir-
O lady!
Paternal altars I will come to kneel
With thee. Who more unfortunate than I?
There shall our mingled thoughts ascend.
Thou shalt invoke my death, the death of him
Thou dost abhor. I too will pray that Heaven
Thy vows will hear, forgive thy hatred and
Pour joy into thy soul, and long preserve
The youth and beauty in thy looks, and give thee
All thy desire-all, all! -thy consort's love and
Beautiful children of him!
At my
Only thou dost
And what carest thou for it, if
I must abhor thee? I mar not thy life.
To-morrow I no longer shall be here.
Francesca, if thou dost abhor me, what
Is that to me? and this thou askest, thou?
And does thy hate disturb my life? and these
Funereal words are thine? — Thou, beautiful
As a bright angel whom the Deity,
In the most ardent transport of his love,
Created, dear to every one, and thou
A happy consort, - darest to talk of death.
Me it befalls that for vain honor's sake
## p. 11281 (#501) ##########################################
SILVIO PELLICO
11281
Francesca -
Paolo-
Francesca
Paolo-
Francesca
Paolo-
Francesca -
I have been dragged from fatherland afar,
And lost. Unhappy wretch! I lost a father.
Hope always clung to re-embrace him. He
Would not have made me an unfortunate,
If I had opened up my heart to him;
And would have given me her- her whom I've lost
For aye.
What dost thou mean? Talk of thy lady-
And dost thou live so wretched robbed of her?
Is love so prepotential in thy breast?
Love should not be the only flame that burns
In the bosom of a valorous cavalier.
Dear to him is his brand, and dear the trump
Of fame; noble affections these: pursue them.
Let not love make thee vile.
Is this?
What words are these?
Wouldst thou have pity? Wouldst thou still be able
Somewhat to cease thy hatred, if I should
With my good sword acquire some greater fame?
One word of thy command, 'tis done. Prescribe
The place, the years. To shores the most remote
I'll make my way; the graver I shall find
The enterprises, and the fuller fraught
With danger, so the sweeter they will be
To me, because Francesca laid them on me.
Honor and hardihood before have made
My sinews strong, but thy adorèd name
Will make them stronger. And, with thee intent,
Of tyrants now my glories will not be
Contaminate. Another crown than bay,
But woven still by thee, will I desire.
One single plaudit thine, one word, one smile,
One look-
Eternal God! what sort of man
Francesca, I love thee, I love thee,
And desperate is my love.
What do I hear!
Am I in a delirium? What didst
Thou say?
XIX-706
I love thee.
They might o'erhear.
So sudden? Dost not
Why so bold? hush, hush!
Thou lov'st me! Is thy flame
know I am thy own
## p. 11282 (#502) ##########################################
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SILVIO PELLICO
Paolo-
Francesca
Paolo-
Francesca
Paolo -
Francesca
Paolo-
―
Sister-in-law? So quickly canst thou cast
Into oblivion thy lady lost?
Oh, wretched me! let go this hand of mine!
Thy kisses, oh, are crimes!
No, no; my flame
Is not a sudden flash. A lady I
Have lost, and thou art she; of thee I spoke;
For thee I wept; thee did I love, do love thee,
Shall love thee always till my latest hour!
And even if I must in the world below
Th' eternal penance bear of wicked love,
Eternally I'll love thee more and more.
Shall it be true? Was't me that thou didst love?
The day that at Ravenna I arrived,
Yes, from that day I loved thee.
Leave off; thou loved'st me?
-
―――――
Then some time this flame
I did conceal, but still one day it seemed
That thou hadst read my heart. Thy steps thou wast
Directing from thy maiden chambers toward
Thy secret garden. I, beside the lake,
Stretched out at length among the flowers,
Thy chambers watched, and at thy coming rose
Trembling. Upon a book thy wandering eyes
Seemed to me not intent; upon the book
There fell a tear. Flushed with emotion, thou
Didst draw thee near to me, and then we read, —
Together read: "Of Lanciotto, how
Love bound him,”—and alone we were, without
Any suspicion near us. Then our looks
Encountered one another, and my face
Whitened, thou didst tremble, and with haste
Didst vanish.
Thou, alas!
What an escapade! With thee
The book remained.
It used to make me
Sojourn. Here 'tis.
Here 'tis.
Look here and see;
From thy own eyes.
It lies upon my heart.
happy in my far
See, here the page we read.
here fell the tears that day,
Translation of J. F. Bingham.
## p. 11283 (#503) ##########################################
11283
SAMUEL PEPYS.
(1633-1703)
BY ARTHUR GEORGE PESKETT
EN THE front of the Pepysian Library at Magdalene College,
Cambridge, is inscribed the sentence from Cicero that Sam-
uel Pepys chose as his motto: "Mens cuiusque is est quisque »
-"The mind makes the man. " To those who regard him as a mix-
ture of garrulous diarist and painstaking official the motto may seem
inappropriate, for seen in this aspect alone he reaches no high level
of intellectual attainment; but to all who
have followed his career to its close and
learned to know him better, the phrase suf-
ficiently indicates his attitude towards the
world at large. Himself a man of keen
intelligence and great practical sagacity,
he was extraordinarily quick to gauge and
appraise the intelligence of others. Numer-
ous passages of his diary attest this ready
insight into the character and intellectual
merits of his contemporaries, and the de-
light that he took in the society of those
who, possessing information on any subject,
no matter what its nature, could impart it
agreeably. Pleasant discourse with friend
or chance acquaintance upon topics grave or gay, trivial or weighty,
is as sure to be recorded as important details of business or of State
policy. He was a man of unbounded curiosity: to use his own quaint
expression, he was always "with child to see any strange thing. "
With these more intellectual traits was united an inexhaustible
capacity for purely animal enjoyment of life. It is this universality
of human interest that makes him one of the most engaging charac-
ters in history, and his diary a unique production of literature. It
was this same keen zest and interest in human affairs that stimulated
him to become one of the most zealous and capable secretaries that
the Admiralty Board has ever had. And we must add also that it
was this many-sided enjoyment of life that led him frequently to in-
dulge in pleasures that shock the stricter decorum of the present age.
These characteristics, moreover, were combined with a naïve simplicity
SAMUEL PEPYS
## p. 11284 (#504) ##########################################
11284
SAMUEL PEPYS
and a childlike vanity that amaze, as much as they delight, the readers
of his artless self-revelations. As a public functionary, if he did not
quite reach the high standard of integrity required in these days, he
was at any rate far in advance of many — perhaps the majority — of his
contemporaries in the employ of the State, while his patriotism was
always above question. Though constitutionally timid, he neverthe-
less possessed that moral courage which prevents a man from shirk-
ing his duty in moments of danger or difficulty. All through the
Plague, when there was a general flight from London, he remained
in or near town, and went on with his official work much as usual;
nor does the diary contain a single expression of self-satisfaction at
his own conduct in the matter. In disposition he was irascible and
prone to undignified outbursts of temper, of which he was afterwards
heartily ashamed. As to his religious views,- for they must be taken
into account in estimating his character,- he lived and died in the
accepted faith of a Christian; but his religion was strongly tinged
with superstition, and exercised no potent influence over his early
life. He was a regular attendant at church, and an uncompromising
critic of sermons unless his attention was distracted by a fair face in
a neighboring pew. He exclaims "God forgive me if he strings his
lute or reads "little French romances >> or makes up his accounts on
a Sunday; but he omits to seek the Divine forgiveness when, after
attending two services, he flirts with a pretty young woman who he
fears "is not so good as she ought to be. " He loved and admired
his wife, and was jealous of her; but he was a faithless spouse, and
gravely recorded in his diary the minutest particulars of his amours.
Such, in its curious blending of strength and weakness, meanness
and greatness, was the character of Samuel Pepys. A distinguished
critic, James Russell Lowell, has called him a Philistine. If the term
implies a man of somewhat coarse tastes, with no aptitude for pro-
found thought, with no fine literary instinct and no subtle sense of
humor, then and then only is the reproach a just one; for few will
admit that a man of acknowledged capacity in affairs, one who after
his great speech in defense of the Navy Board at the bar of the
House of Commons was greeted as the most eloquent speaker of the
age and as "another Cicero,” — a man who was president of the
Royal Society, and was pronounced by competent judges a fit person
to be provost of the great foundation of Henry VI. at Cambridge,-
could fairly be called a Philistine in the ordinary sense of the word.
But Pepys may justly claim to be judged by his works; and two
abiding memorials bear striking testimony to the varied merits of his
singular personality, -the Library and the Diary. It may be useful
to give a short account of each of them.
-
It seems probable that Pepys began his book collecting in the
year 1660; when his appointment, through the influence of his cousin
## p. 11285 (#505) ##########################################
SAMUEL PEPYS
11285
and patron Sir Edward Montagu, to a secretaryship in the office of
Mr. Downing, and then to the clerkship of the Acts, gave him for the
first time a sufficient income. Frequent references to the purchase of
books will be found in the Diary, the binding sometimes proving a
greater attraction than the contents. For instance, he writes May 15th,
1660: "Bought for the love of the binding three books: the French
Psalms in four parts, Bacon's 'Organon,' and 'Farnab. Rhetor. '» So
by slow degrees was amassed a library which at its owner's death
contained three thousand volumes,- -an unusual size for a private
library of that day. As clerk to the Acts, and afterwards secretary
to the Admiralty,- an office which he held from 1669 till the change
of government in 1689,- he acquired a considerable number of valua-
ble books and MSS. on naval affairs, which he intended to serve as
material for a projected history of the English navy. Among other
treasures are five large volumes of ballads or "broadsides," mostly in
black-letter; three of State Papers, the gift of John Evelyn; three
volumes of portraits in "taille-douce," collected apparently in re-
sponse to a suggestion in a long and valuable letter from Evelyn,
dated August 12th, 1689;* three of calligraphical collections; six of
prints general; two of frontispieces in taille-douce; two of views
and maps of London and Westminster; several early printed books,
including some by Caxton and Wynkyn de Worde; the 'Libro de
Cargos,' —a MS. list of the provisions and munitions of each ship in
the Spanish Armada, compiled by the "Proveedor" of the Fleet,
Bernabe de Pedroso; two MS. volumes of the Maitland poems; an
account of the escape of Charles II. from Worcester, taken down in
shorthand from the King's own dictation; and many other rarities
too numerous to mention.
These books- except a few of the largest, which are in the
cupboards of an old writing-table- were placed in twelve handsome
presses of dark stained oak, in which they may still be seen in Mag-
dalene College. The arranging, indexing, and cataloguing of so large
a collection occupied much of Pepys's time, and that of his able
assistant Paul Lorrain; and the whole library bears evidence to the
minute care bestowed on its preservation. It was left by will to
his nephew and heir John Jackson, second son of his sister Paulina,
who once occupied the curious position of domestic servant in her
brother's house. John Jackson was of great help to Pepys in the
collection of his prints and drawings; traveling on the Continent, ap-
parently at his uncle's expense, and bringing home numerous treas-
ures to be enshrined in the library. On Pepys's death in 1703, the
library passed into Jackson's hands; and on his death in 1724, it was
transferred, in accordance with the diarist's will, to his own and his
* See 'Diary and Correspondence of John Evelyn' (London, Bickers &
Son, 1879), Vol. iii. , pages 435 ff.
## p. 11286 (#506) ##########################################
11286
SAMUEL PEPYS
nephew's college of St. Mary Magdalene, there to be preserved in
perpetuity. An interesting testimony to the care bestowed on the
library by Jackson is afforded by the following entries, with his sig-
nature attached, in one of the catalogues: "Review'd and finally
Placed August 1st, 1705: No one of ye 2474 Books contained in the
foregoing Catalogue being then wanting. Jackson.
