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religion by which I was supported. The judges had given me a
promise to expedite the letter the moment it was written.
Maroncelli next spoke to me respecting his trial; I acquainted him
with mine, and we mutually described our prison walks and
adventures, complimenting each other on our peripatetic philosophy.
We approached our window, and saluted three of our friends, whom we
beheld standing at theirs. Two of these were Canova and Rezia, in
the same apartment; the first of whom was condemned to six-years'
hard imprisonment, and the last to three. The third was Doctor
Cesare Armari, who had been my neighbour some preceding months, in
the prisons of the Piombi. He was not, however, among the
condemned, and soon obtained his liberty.
The power of communicating with one or other of our fellow-
prisoners, at all hours, was a great relief to our feelings. But
when buried in silence and darkness, I was unable to compose myself
to rest; I felt my head burn, and my heart bleed, as my thoughts
reverted to home. Would my aged parents be enabled to bear up
against so heavy a misfortune? would they find a sufficient resource
in their other children? They were equally attached to all, and I
valued myself least of all in that family of love; but will a father
and a mother ever find in the children that remain to them a
compensation for the one of whom they are deprived.
Had I dwelt only upon my relatives and a few other dear friends,
much as I regretted them, my thoughts would have been less bitter
than they were. But I thought of the insulting smile of that judge,
of the trial, the cause of the respective sentences, political
passions and enmities, and the fate of so many of my friends . . .
It was then I could no longer think with patience or indulgence of
any of my persecutors. God had subjected me to a severe trial, and
it was my duty to have borne it with courage. Alas! I was neither
able nor willing. The pride and luxury of hatred pleased me better
than the noble spirit of forgiveness; and I passed a night of horror
after receiving sentence.
In the morning I could not pray. The universe appeared to me, then,
to be the work of some power, the enemy of good. I had previously,
indeed, been guilty of calumniating my Creator; but little did I
imagine I should revert to such ingratitude, and in so brief a time.
Julian, in his most impious moods, could not express himself more
impiously than myself. To gloat over thoughts of hatred, or fierce
revenge, when smarting under the scourge of heaviest calamity,
instead of flying to religion as a refuge, renders a man criminal,
even though his cause be just. If we hate, it is a proof of rank
pride; and where is the wretched mortal that dare stand up and
declare in the face of Heaven, his title to hatred and revenge
against his fellows? to assert that none have a right to sit in
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