The excitement was general, and general the desire to resist. The patriotic meetings of ten thousand held at Reiden, and twenty thousand at Viediken, were a proof of this. But to all the fears and hesitations mentioned above were added those causes of division inherent in all confederations, and these were fomented by the different foreign governments which exercised an influence over the separate cantons, Prussia over Neuchâtel, Austria over the small cantons, and France, through her embassy, over Berne.

In the face of the Conseil scandal, and notwithstanding the energetic opposition of several of the deputies, the Diet retracted every expression of accusation or reproof contained in their former letter to the French Government, and decided to proceed against the unfortunate exiles with greater severity than ever. This was preparing the way for an arbitrary abuse of power, and it was carried to the extreme. Being either unable or unwilling at once to suppress "La Jeune Suisse," the Government, upon various pretexts, imprisoned, first the German translator, then the corrector of the press, then the French and German compositors, and finally some of the contributors. Amongst these were several Swiss citizens, like Weingart and Schüler. The wandering life we were compelled to lead, and the impossibility of all regular communication, prevented our taking their place in the periodical work. The journal was therefore compelled to cease towards the end of July.

In one of my last articles (18th June) I said: "The icy blast of the north has breathed upon the souls of men. I hear voices around me whispering words hitherto unknown in this republican land: Let us

have done with the exiles; let us renew alliance with the Government, and sacrifice this handful of agitators to them; let us proscribe the proscribed, and lay upon their heads the faults of which the governments accuse us. Lists of proscription have been drawn up; and exiles have been arbitrarily imprisoned, against whom there is no charge nor accusation; a category of the suspected has been formed, including ninety individuals; denunciation is recompensed; a price is set upon men's heads. The journals are crammed with calumny: we are neither interrogated nor examined. Denounced as leaders of armed bands, we are destined, some of us, to be sent to England, some of us to America. Wherefore? In virtue of what right? In consequence of what discoveries? What crimes have we committed? Upon what law is the sentence based? What testimony is appealed to? As in Venice of old, the persecution is founded upon secret denunciations. The condemnations are not based upon any written or known laws. For us there is no law. Our present and our future are at the mercy of an unwritten, unknown arbitrary will, upon an uncertain indefinite something, an authority blind and deaf as the Inquisition of Schiller. And the voice of no influential patriot is raised to protest in favor of men to whom all protest is forbidden, and declare: The exiles are men; they have a right to human justice; every sentence passed upon them which is not based upon the laws binding upon us all, is iniquitous; every judgment not preceded by public discussion and free unrestrained defense, is a crime before God and man. No! not one. It seems as if monarchy, in exiling us from our own countries, had exiled us from humanity.

"From humanity? Yes; and God knows that the grief I feel in writing these words springs from no personal consideration, I have never felt so profoundly the truth of those words of Lamennais: God comfort the heart of the poor exile, for he is everywhere alone.

"I write without bitterness or hatred. The last was ever unknown to me. But my heart is filled with profound indignation when I reflect how the liberty, dignity, and honor of a people are thus made the sport of a Chancellerie; when I see the delegates of a Republic thus organize a system of transportation for the benefit of monarchical police-agents; when I hear men who are themselves husbands, brothers, and fathers, standing, it may be, by the cradle of their children, - speaking thus lightly of expelling to America men who have already lost all that life holds dear, and whose sole consolation is to gaze upon the Alps or the Rhine, and remember that beyond them lies their Father-land. Do they know what they are doing? Do they remember that we exiles have mothers, fathers, sisters? Do they know what may be the consequence of their thoughtless words to us and them?"

One day in 1834 a man came to me asking fraternal aid. He was an exile; had been an exile for twenty years; had slowly consumed the whole of the bitter cup offered by exile to the solitary and poor. They had driven him away from Berne to Geneva, and from Geneva to France. France, too, had expelled him, because he had no papers en rêgle. He had once again traversed the country on foot, and taken

refuge in Berne, where some Italians had taken care of him. He was again delivered over to the gensdarmes and sent to Geneva. There he was at first imprisoned for having dared to return, and afterwards driven out again as a man who had no legal domicil. I saw him when he was sent upon this third journey. The tears ran down his cheeks as he told me his history. I was deeply moved. Shortly afterwards he was ordered to go to England; and he started, travelling through Switzerland and France on foot. He was a Neapolitan: his name was Carocci. He died while crossing the sea. His mother and father were still living. He had brothers and sisters also. God forgive the Republicans who poisoned their existence with a sorrow such as this. The remonstrances I published were inspired by no individual grief. Throughout all the persecutions I have met with, I have never endeavored to excite compassion for myself. When a conclusum of the Diet condemned me to perpetual exile from Switzerland, I did but shrug my shoulders, and remain. I remained, searched for in vain on every side, until December in that year, and should have stayed there indefinitely had not the mode of life circumstances compelled us to adopt threatened serious injury to the health of the two friends who shared these persecutions with me. In January, 1837, I arrived with them in London.

CHAPTER V.

IN ENGLAND.

1837-1844.

THE last months of that year had inured me to suffering, and rendered me "ben tetragono ai colpi di ventura," as Dante has it. 1 I know not to what peculiarity of mind it is owing that I have never been able to remember the dates of even the most important events of my individual life. But were I to live for a century I could never forget the close of that year, nor the moral tempest that passed over me, and amid the vortex of which my soul was so nearly overwhelmed. I speak of it now with reluctance, and solely for the sake of those who may be doomed to suffer what I then suffered, and to whom the voice of a brother who has escaped from that tempest, storm-beaten and bleeding indeed, but with retempered soul, may perhaps indicate the path of salvation.

It was the tempest of Doubt, which I believe all who devote their lives to a great enterprise, yet have not dried and withered up their soul, like Robespierre, beneath some barren intellectual formula, but have retained a loving heart, are doomed, once at least, to battle through. My soul was overflowing with and greedy of affection; as fresh and eager to unfold to

1 "On all sides

Well squared to fortune's blows."

CARY'S Dante, Par. Canto xvii.