presented the same opportunity which was offered to their predecessors by the controversy of Joseph II. with the Pope. Is it a hasty, unjust, invidious accusation, to express the suspicion that this party is now making use of the contest with the hierarchy, only as a mask, behind which they may assail, with the greater security, Christianity itself? Do the adherents of the creed of Strauss, and of the younger Hegelians, demean themselves differently, in reference to the controversy of Frederick William III. with Gregory XVI., from the Illuminati, at the time of the controversy of Joseph II. with Pius VI.? And will the state now gain more from the assistance of such advocates, than it did then? We fear that an anti-national and anti-Christian advocacy will not be very useful, either to Prussian interests in particular, or to German interests in general. The Bible is the weapon of the protestant, and patriotism the weapon of the citizen; but with the Bible and patriotism they will have nothing to do. In the bottom of their hearts they reject Luther and the Prussian ritual just as much as they do the Pope, because they reject Christ; they cannot rightfully defend the German nation against the ultramontane influence, because they are professed Cosmopolites, and claim for the chair of Hegel the same universal authority, which Catholic Christendom, for many centuries, has conceded to the chair of Peter. We regard the working of this philosophy in the Cologne controversy as disorderly, offensive, and delusory. It takes away the stand-point from which men should survey the question. They defend, not what should be defended, but something entirely different, their own bad cause. They discredit protestantism, while they appear to take it under their protection. They understand by the principle of protestantism, not what Luther understood by it, the word of God and a life of faith, and love and purity, but their pretended free inquiry; and by this they mean the annihilation of Christianity. Hence their writings, professedly in defence of the Prussian state, all squint towards a different corner; and thus the public are deceived. Gorres was perfectly right in ridiculing opponents who numbered such false brethren in their ranks. Having the Bible, it is a formal mistake to flee to the philosophy of Hegel, for the defence of the principle of Protestantism. What must the citizen and the peasant think of this? Of what use is this atheistic rubbish?

In view of all this, the true course is not to pour oil on the flame, but rather to extinguish this destructive firebrand. There is no necessity for a renewal of the old dispute between the Protestants and the Catholics, a dispute which formerly cost us such immense sacrifices, that they have not yet been repaired. But still more unprofitable is it to envenom this controversy with atheistic tendencies, and to convert it into a war against Christianity. It is the common interest of the Germans to preserve their ancient harmony in matters of religion, and not rather to allow themselves to be exasperated against each other. We must take our stand on the nation, in order to perceive the advantage, the urgent necessity, of concord. In respect to the Cologne affair, we can only wish that it may be ended as soon as possible, and that no more may be said about it. From the continuance of this dispute, nothing can be gained, but much may be lost.

We think we have now shown that Illuminatism, reappearing under a new name in all its ancient activity, cannot be helpful, but must be injurious to German interests; and it were well for us to abstain from educating our youth in this system. Or shall not the melancholy experiment, which we have already made, perform at least this one service, that of keeping us from another of the same character? Have we so many students of history, and shall we draw no lessons from history? Enough. We think that we have held up a mirror to the fourth decade of the nineteenth century.

CALEFFI.

AN AUTHENTIC TALE OF A FERRARESE CARBONARO.

TRANSLATED FROM THE ITALIAN.

A STRANGER who should have found himself in Ferrara on the 22nd of December, 1818, would doubtless have smiled at those who praise so much the mild and beautiful climate of Italy. In truth, that large and somewhat depopulated city presented on that day an unusually melancholy aspect, calculated to oppress the mind with misanthropic sadness. The air was darkened by torrents of rain and driving sleet, increased in their effect by a strong north wind. The streets, squares, and market

places were deserted. Silence reigned throughout, broken only occasionally by the hammer of the industrious mechanic, or by the suppliant tones of the wretched beggars, who were knocking at the doors of the wealthy, imploring food and fuel. About three o'clock in the afternoon, the inhabitants of the place were aroused by an unexpected occurrence, the cause of both fear and wonder. From the gates of the castle were suddenly seen issuing forth several companies of patrol, led by commissioners of the police, which immediately spread themselves in different directions. In Italy, the operations of the police are always regarded by the people with a certain degree of distrust, because they usually minister only to the suspicions or vengeance of the throne. Such was the object of the proceeding of which we are now speaking.

Cardinal D'Arezza, governor of Ferrara, had been informed that there existed in that city a central body of the society famous throughout Europe under the name of "the Carbonari;" a society which had been for years incessantly endeavouring to produce a moral and physical action, capable of overthrowing the odious political yoke under which Italy had long groaned. But a treacherous member of the society (whose name has never been discovered) had not been able to furnish the cardinal with any definite information in relation to the number and persons of the Ferrarese Carbonari; and could only designate a certain Caleffi, as possessing the list of the members, which he always kept in his house. The cardinal therefore ordered, that while one company of guards should take possession of Caleffi's person and house, others should hold themselves in readiness to arrest immediately all whose names should be found in the list above mentioned.

It was at the moment that the peaceable inhabitants who had been attracted to their windows were watching with painful anxiety the movements of the patrols, that Caleffi, wrapped up in his cloak, was proceeding with hasty strides towards his own house.

He

Caleffi, though only twenty-five years of age, had a wife and two little ones. was short in stature, but robust. His quick flashing eye betokened his high-toned feeling, and the extraordinary energy of his character. Of humble origin, he had received but a limited elementary education. Rank and cultivation are not always the parents of merit; more frequently the reverse. The bosom of Caleffi throbbed in unison with the feelings of those noble-minded Italians who longed for the redemption of their country. This gallant spirit did not long escape the notice of the clear-sighted Carbonari, who usually frequented in numbers the Caffé Ferrari where he was a waiter. Hence he was admitted into the fraternity, and employed as a servant. The repeated proofs of his zeal for the welfare of the society, which from time to time he displayed, gained for him its entire confidence, and he was soon employed in collecting the monthly contributions of its members. Thus it was that he became possessed of the list of their names.

Caleffi had just reached his house, when the commissioner of police, who with his guards had been waiting in the neighbourhood his arrival, arrested him, and in the name of the law, commanded him to place himself between the soldiers, and to follow him.

The wife of Caleffi, like many others, had been attracted to the window by curiosity. She saw her husband in the hands of the police, and with the quickness characteristic of her sex, at once divined the cause of his arrest. She had frequently observed her husband look furtively behind a picture which was suspended in their bedroom, and while she refrained from prying searches, she supposed that behind the painting there doubtless was concealed some object of importance. It was in fact behind a loose stone, covered by the picture, that Caleffi kept the fatal list.

While the commissioner was loudly knocking at the door, this noble woman raised the picture. To remove the stone, seize the paper, and commit it to the flames, was the work of an instant. Then slowly descending, she opened the door, and with much politeness admitted the officer and the patrol.

"Ah! this is a good sign!" muttered the commissioner.

"This woman does not greet me with the sneer usually extended to my class. She suspects nothing. All the better! I shall doubtless succeed in finding the important paper in its secret depository."

66

Come, madam, show me your rooms and your furniture. I wish to gratify a little curiosity," said the crafty wretch, with an ironic smile upon his countenance. Caleffi's wife, self-possessed and dignified, glanced significantly to her silent but erect husband, as if saying, " Fear not, all is safe!"

The prying guards then ransacked every article which could possibly conceal anything, the lynx-eyed commissioner meanwhile carefully watching the progress of the proceeding. Nothing, however, was found. They then proceeded up-stairs, and there repeated the search. Still no result. The last place which they visited was the bed-room. No papers! The officer could scarcely restrain his impatience, and was on the point of giving vent to it, when his eye rested upon the picture; he immediately directed that it should be taken down.

"Ah, what have we here? An oven, the mouth of which is concealed by loose bricks. What is there within it?" said the officer.

"I know nothing about it," said Caleffi.

"I know nothing about it," repeated his wife.

"But you must account for this unusual circumstance

an oven, and loose bricks

concealing it! You doubtless kept something concealed here."

"I know nothing about it," was again the answer of both the Caleffi.

"No! then I will tell you," added the enraged commissioner. "It was there you

had some papers secreted."

"We know nothing about it," still repeated they, calmly and cheerfully.

66 Separate them at once!" cried the officer. "We shall see !"

The wife was led to a room on the ground floor, and the husband remained in the bed-room. The baffled commissioner passed and re-passed alternately from Caleffi to his wife, but without success. Neither politeness, nor threats, nor promises, The two Caleffi remained unshaken. They "I know nothing about it! I know nothing

nor insinuations, were of any avail. but re-echoed each other's answer. about it!"

Evening, however, drawing near, it became necessary to make an end of the matter, and the father was dragged to prison, while out of consideration for the children, the mother was allowed to remain in the house, under the eye of several soldiers.

In the centre of Ferrara there is an extensive castle, with four towers. The edifice was built during the Middle Ages by one of the princes of the house of Este, for his own safety. In the upper part of the castle, all is comfort, luxury, and pomp. In its magnificent saloons are still to be seen the productions of the most celebrated masters, of Titian, of Dosso Dossi, and of Benvenuto of Garofalo. In the various rooms are found the most costly articles of furniture. The walls are decorated with gorgeous curtains, gilded cornices, and bas-relievos by master hands. Not a step is taken, but something brings to mind an historical reminiscence, and recalls the splendour of by-gone days. On one side the imagination, aided by the productions of the pencil, would almost persuade you that you could hear the muse of Ariosto and of Guarino ministering in song to gay circles of princes and courtiers. On the other, you may repose your limbs on the same couch upon which the beautiful Eleonora reclined, while listening to the sighs and receiving the homage of the immortal Tasso. Beyond, is the seeret oratory where the amiable and accomplished Renata, of France, attended by her ladies, listened to the preaching of that morose and austere reformer, Calvin. In a more remote apartment, you may drop a tear over the doom of the unhappy Parasina, and there appreciate the poetic spirit of Byron, whose genius a.few years since, in this very spot, conceived the beautiful poem in which are related the amours of that ill-fated princess and her indiscreet step-son. Should inclination lead you, however, to descend to the subterranean part of the castle, the aspect of things suddenly changes. What a chill of horror is there experienced! All is darkness; everything tells of suffering. On either hand are dungeons, cells, pit-falls, and chains, which without doubt once ministered to the cruel spirit of feudalism. Among these various dungeons, one however is especially calculated to attract attention, on account of the barbarity displayed in its construction. In truth, it appears the work of a fiend rather than of a human being. Had Dante seen it, he doubtless would have alluded to it in his immortal poem, as the abode of the most wretched among all the victims of the anger of God.

Around and beneath the building there flows a stream brought by artificial means from an adjoining river. The dungeon to which we allude is at the foot of one of the towers it is approached by means of a long, crooked, and obscure corridor. Its only entrance is a small iron door, and its roof is of marble, upon which the dampness collects. The flooring consists of an iron grating, through which, reflected from the water, streams in pale and subdued rays the only light which enlivens this dreary place. It is so low, that it is impossible to stand upright within it, and one is obliged to lie down upon the grating, and in that painful position remain subject to the currents of air which are thrown upward by the flowing of the waters beneath.

But a few days suffice to render its inmate sick, and on this account its use was strictly prohibited by the government of Napoleon. No such human disposition however animated Ondedei, the head of the police, at the time of which we are speaking. To the disgrace of human nature, Caleffi, with the consent of the cardinal, was thrown into this den, fit receptacle for reptiles only.

It is impossible, of course, to say what passed in the mind of Caleffi, but doubtless in the very inhumanity of his treatment he found a fresh source of courage and of firmness. It is characteristic of great minds to become more elevated under suffering, and I have already said that Caleffi possessed one of extraordinary vigour. In this dungeon he remained two entire nights and days, without straw to lie on, and with only a limited allowance of bread and water. The rough manners of his gaoler, and the solitude which reigned around him, were calculated even more than these circumstances, to weigh upon his spirits. Whoever could have read his inmost soul would most likely have there found reflected the dear images of his wife and children; perchance have heard their names murmured amidst his sighs; have detected some half-smothered complaint, suppressed by an indignant effort, ere fully uttered; perchance have heard breathed forth fresh aspirations for his country's welfare; aspirations telling of his love for that country, of honour, and of duty. And such indeed was the fact.

Towards the middle of the third night, the gratings of his door were noisily opened, and he was called forth. Before him stood several soldiers, and behind them was Colonel Ondedei.

This individual was originally from the province of Romagna, and noble by birth. He had once openly espoused the interest of Bonaparte, and subsequently joined the liberal party. Finally, however, he humbled himself at the foot of the Papal throne, in order to obtain the hateful post he filled at the time of which we are writing. Need greater proof be given of this wretch's utter abasement as a man, and of his fitness as a tool of the police ?

"Caleffi, Caleffi !" he exclaimed, "look at me, and listen to what I am about to say. You see the wretched condition to which you are reduced; wretched it is true, but slight in comparison with that to which you will shortly be brought. In a few days you are to appear before a specially constituted tribunal, which without question will convict you of high treason."

Caleffi neither heeded him nor looked toward him.

"Answer me, wretched enemy of your sovereign ! Are you prepared to suffer ignominiously upon the scaffold?"

Caleffi returned no answer.

"Have you no wife nor children? Are they not dear to you? Knowest thou, that the first is in prison, and has confessed all she knows? She has revealed the names of many of the Carbonari which were upon your list. This confession is sufficient to condemn you to death."

"You lie!" cried Caleffi ; "I believe you not!"

"How, wretch! 'I lie!' Dare you accuse the chief of the police with falsehood! You shall see, however! But what do I say? No! no! You shall not suffer upon the gibbet. You shall live, as also your wife. She of her own accord has sought the cardinal, and obtained his consent that I should come here. I now assure you, that if you will only accede to my request, and state the name of the Ferrarese Carbonari, your punishment shall be mitigated."

Caleffi remained silent.

"Moreover, I will procure a full pardon for you. I can do anything with the cardinal."

Caleffi answered not.

"Yes, Caleffi, I would save you in spite of yourself. I pity your family and your inexperience. I know that you are a victim of seduction. For this night I leave you to your own thoughts. Reflect well upon your situation. I will see you again, and trust I shall be able to bring you some good news; for doubtless you will see the propriety of complying with my request, and of seconding the efforts which your wife is making, in your behalf, with the cardinal. Will you make me no

answer?"

"No!"

"Then good night, Caleffi."

"Keep your spirits," said Ondedei as he left him, though more ....

1 than he

saw fit to appear. Caleffi returned into his cell with fresh apprehensions a misgivings, perhaps, but certainly with renewed determination.

"What!" exclaimed the cardinal, as seated in his well-gilded and tapestried chamber, he listened to Ondedei, as he related the result of his interview. "What!

a mere youth! a father! a husband! an uncultivated plebeian, and in such a dungeon! After all the threats, all the promises, still to persist in his audacious obstinacy! What shall we do, my dear director? How shall we overcome him?" Ondedei listened and pondered. From his occupation, he was accustomed to strive successfully against the defencelessness of unarmed virtue; to deceive the inexperience of youth; to awe the timidity of poverty; and even to overcome the astuteness of the vigorous intellect.

"Your highness need not despair; the breast of man is a labyrinth of passions, of interested feelings, of hopes and of fears. When the clue to this labyrinth is once discovered, it is easy to thread it. Trust to me. There are some characters that are strong in certain points and weak in others. They must be approached on their weakest side. It appears to me that Caleffi is a person who must be gently led rather than driven."

"Well! do whatever you think most likely to obtain from this youth the confession which we require. It is all important that I should discover this conspiracy of the Carbonari. Religion and the State are in danger. Everything must be done to save them. I give you full power to act."

When night had set in, Ondedei again visited Caleffi, who was either asleep, or feigned to be so. The gaoler, stooping down, entered the dungeon with a light. Leaning over the prisoner, and taking his hand, he gently shook him, calling him by name.

Caleffi rubbed his eyes, and stretching out his limbs, looked at his visiter, but did not speak.

"Caleffi, get up; come into the passage; I wish to speak with you." Caleffi arose and stepped into the corridor, where he found Ondedei. The guards who accompanied the commissioner immediately fell back. "Caleffi," said the commissioner; "I have succeeded, though with much difficulty, in pacifying the cardinal. Immediately upon hearing my report, he was about to direct that you should appear to-morrow before the tribunal. But I induced him to suspend this order, by pledging myself that you would listen to my solicitations. Be therefore obedient, and show yourself repentant. It will cost you but a slight effort; only two words! Give me but the names of the Carbonari, and you will be free."

Caleffi uttered not a syllable.

"Perhaps your sufferings or your fears may be the cause of your silence?" "No! no! I feel no pain, and chains have no terror for me."

"So much the better. Now listen. Give me either the list or the names that it contained; you know them, for they were the names of those who paid into your hands their monthly contributions. The government is daily acquiring fresh information in relation to the Carbonari. Take heed lest shortly we be able to dispense with any disclosures you may have to make; for should you delay you will gain nothing by them. Now is the time for you to speak. What do you say?" Caleffi was silent.

"Think, my dear Caleffi, of your own interests, not of those of the Carbonari. They, when arrested, as will be the case shortly, will be submitted to the ordeal of a legal inquiry, will confess all; and your silence, however praiseworthy, will only be laughed at by them. They will of course only look to their own safety. You should do likewise."

Caleffi returned no answer.

“Answer me, at least; I repeat, you shall have a full pardon, and besides a pecuniary reward. What you say shall remain a secret. I pledge my honour to this. What more do you want?"

"I wish for nothing, for I have nothing to reveal."

"But you know well that the Counts Tommasi, Raspi, the Marquis of Conorrici, the Counsellor Ferrarini, were

وو

"I have never seen those persons, and I know not who they are. plebeian, and have nothing to do with the nobility or the lawyers."

I am a poor

The persons mentioned by Ondedei were in reality some of the chief officers of the Carbonari; but they were suspected by the government only from their wellknown liberal sentiments. Tommasi afterward became an informer, and Ferrarini was pardoned by Pius VII. Of the remaining two, one was tried and condemned by the Austrian government, and the other is at present an exile in France.