CISTELLAMONTE. *

This may be a clever political romance, or it may be an actual autobiography, injured by expansion and over-detail, as well as by the introduction of an Italian love-story in a bad taste, and the melodramatic self-sufficiency bestowed upon the hero. There is, however, a good deal of truth throughout, very often trifling or empty, but in other parts of force and value for its exhibition of Italian patriots or revolutionists. And if this exhibition is gene- rally true, it is conclusive as to the hopes of Italian liberation. According to Signor Castellamonte, the respectable Liberals of Parma, in 1831, were timorous, pedantic, unequal to that or indeed any occasion, and with a strong dash of timeserving foresight about them. The bolder revolutionists were mostly bad characters, pos- sessing some bravery, but without conduct, experience, capacity for affairs, or military discipline ; to whose restraints, indeed, they were scarcely the men to submit. The mass of the population were either indifferent to the cause, or faithful worthy fellows but stupid. One splendid exception there was in the person of the hero of this book ; who to the loftiest aspirations and the most dauntless courage added an iron constitution surpassing Catiline's or Charles the Twelfth's, but, as the gentleman himself admits, with very little prudence and no experience. The object of the work is to depict the insurrection that took place at Parma in 1831; which was caused remotely by the French Revo- lution of 1830, but more directly by the expulsion of the Duke of Modena, and the insurrection of the Bolognese and others against • the Pope. Not ranch was done beyond seizing Maria Louisa and expelling her from the city, and an unpremeditated skirmish or two against the Austrian forces. Notwithstanding some malicious sa- tire upon moderate politicians, and too much inflation in the nar- rative of the writer's own doings and those of a few others, it is a capital exhibition of a revolution in a small Italian state. The self-delusion on the part of the elderly Liberals, advanced to power on the credit of former persecution—their incapacity of comprehending that their only chance of success lay in a desperate policy—their resolve, since they did not know what to do, to do no- thing—the firmness with which as to a palladium they clung to the principle of " nonintervention " announced as a sort of public law by Louis Philippe, and fancied that the Austrians would be bound by it—with the provident care they took not to " compro- mise " themselves beyond pardon, yet all done in perfect good faith—is a bit of lifelike portraiture which history could scarcely reach. There is more force, if not so much truth and nicety of delineation, in the profligacy or wild zeal of young Parma, which inclined to the Jacobin view of government,—so far as men whose war is confined to individual combats, or the defence of a house by

rifles where none of the defenders are hurt, can be said to approach the terrible energy of Carnet and Danton. The story is told somewhat diffusely, but with a good general effect, and those easy minute touches of nature which impart vraisemblance:

Real public affairs, narrated somewhat in the form of an auto- biographical fiction, form little more, however, than half the book. The other half consists of the love-story of the hero and the doings

of himself and some fellow students. In point of writing, this part is equal to the public narrative : there is similar characteris- tic truth, as good a picture of Italian society in 1831, and in reality not more wordiness, though from the insignificance of the matter there appears to be more. But the matter is trivial or unpleasant. Who cares about the inflated talk of students in their teens, set- ting themselves up for judges of all things human and superhuman ? A threatened insurrection at an university, which ends in the refusal of the lads to go to lecture, has even less interest. The love of Castellamonte, a youth of twenty, for Sibyl Sormani, the mother of a grown-up family — the boyish play at patriotism, which the hero heads till he gets committed to prison with some of his fel- lows—and above all, the inflated, self-conceited, Pelham-like style —offend the reader.

A few bits connected with public matters even in this part are clever and characteristic. For example, the appearance of the ar- rested students in a sort of round-house before they are sent to prison.

"Presently the door was thrown open to make way for Lieutenant Rossi, followed by one of the clerks of the establishment, a young man with a uni- form hanging loose about him ; slim, pale, with a cold glassy look, and the stealthy tread of a cat.

"The lieutenant was a short, thick-set man, with a prodigious breadth of shoulders and girth ; with the hair of a sheep, and the neck of a bull. A, du* deep red overspread all that could be seen, not of his face only, but of his throat and back of the head below the ear.

"Re was a man risen from the ranks, in reward of a headlong daring, an activity and alacrity truly surprising in one of his burly dimensions, by which he had struck terror amongst the most desperate ruffians of the coun- try. But he was not many degrees raised above the level of a common ruffian himself. His manners were those of the butcher or headsman, not of a polished soldier ; he was one of those men who would almost throw discredit on that nobler of manly virtues—courage, by an intolerable bluster and swagger. He was a wag no less than a savage, and treated the sufferings of the unhappy beings that fell into his hands with a levity more hard to en- dure than the direst brutality.

"Early in the morning as it now was, I have every reason to believe the wretch was not sober.

" ' What have we got here Frega ?' he roared out to his scribe, with a broad grin, as he entered. . 'One, two, three—six—eight ! Eight chickens to fasten in our hen-coops,' said he ; and after the perpetration of this famous joke, he fell out into a horse-laugh that lasted a good while.

• Castellamonte; an Autobiographical Sketch illustrative of Italian Life during the Insurrection of 1831. In two volumes. Published by Westertou.

" He then sat down before a table, and proceeded to the discharge of his inquisitorial duty.

" 'Come,' he said, addressing me. t01.1 look to me as if you were cock of the walks lere. Come, then, your name, surname, and nickname ! " I gave him my name.

" ' UbertoCastellamonte—nothing else ? ' " 'Sir?'• " Do you pretend to say you answer to no other name ?' he cried, in a

crazy passion. No man comes here without an alias ; no man is suffered to stay here without a nickname; and if you have nothing else to dictate, I'll—by God ! nickname you.'

"He bethought himself a little, and then said, Ha! I have it. Here, Prep, write down, " the Impalato." Don't you see the fellow looks stiff and straight, as if he had a stake through his body—Castellamonte the Im- paled; that'll do.'

"I felt a choking at my throat. There was a moment when I felt as if I could have rushed on him and have a deathly hpg and tug with the mon- ster; but, to say nothing of the odds which he might instantly have sum- moned to his rescue, the man's arm was nearly as thick as my waist, and all my fury would have had no greater impression on him than my bare head on the stone wall that encompassed us : so I stood still before him, humbled in my baffled rage. "In a similar manner the unworthy sbirro 'pug-nosed,' 'sheep-shanked,' and otherwise designated every one of his ill-fated captives by their real or fancied personal deformities, and endlessly mercilessly punned on their names. They all took their cue from me, and bore his taunts with tolerable fortitude.

"After a long ordeal of similar wanton indignities, the prisoners were compelled to part with what the facetious lieutenant called their fine feathers and down ' ; purses, watches, papers, were taken from us, and our pockets were rifted with scrupulous accuracy."

The only real encounter with the enemy took place at Fioren- zola, a small place between Parma and Piacenza. At Piacenza the Duchess and a few Anti-Revolutionists were lodged, and an Austrian force was in garrison. A party of volunteers and national guards with some few regulars had gone out from Parma to drive away a small body of loyalists from Fiorenzola, and with ulterior objects not very clear. The loyalists retired; the patriots entered, and made themselves comfortable, their commander having allowed them to scatter. At night their outposts were surprised, asleep, by the Austrians : such as could ran back into the town. Captain Gottardi, who commanded the horse, kept his men together, and turned them out on the alarm, with this result.

"With such hearts as God had given us, we advanced, four abreast, in one column, along the narrow main street. We had reached the outskirts of the town without meeting one living being. But, as we cleared the last houses a dark line was seen drawn up before us, covering the road and the meadows around as far as eye could reach; all dark and silent, like a dark mist rising from the ground. " Qui fa la ? • cried a shrill Northern voice, with a strong German ac- cent.

"'Italia e ! ' was the answer, uttered in the firm deep tones of the South. It was the voice of our undaunted leader.

" 'Fate foce ! ' again screeched the counterfeit Italian voice from the op- posite ranks • and instantly a red blaze burst from all that sable line, followed by a sharp detonation. There was a whizzing in the air, but no harm done as far as I could per ceive ; but the suddenness and violence of the explosion was too much for our ill-trained chargers. Dazzled, bewildered, they broke through all ranks; and as we were immediately saluted by a second discharge, they became un- governable, plunging, rearing, till, under the lead of the hindmost of them, they fairly turned, and carried away their riders, willing, milling, never al- lowing us to rein them in till, they saw us safe behind the buildings of the main square.

" Secrete swore our captain in a towering passion, as, accompa- nied by his lieutenant, Modesti, and the brave Lione' he cantered after us with great stateliness, covering our precipitate retreat. " Dio Secrete! have you got no bridles and spurs, that you suffer those ill-mannered brutes to get the better of you? However,' he added with a deep sigh, all the Saints of Heaven could not help us through that forest of bayonets. Come ! we must to head-quarters. We'll hear what our Com- mander-in-chief has to say to us.'

"The head-quarters were at the 'Osteria del Carve,' on the Eastern end of the town. So Eastward we moved, I am grieved to say, from the enemy. "All began to be stir and bustle on this side of the town. As we advanced with a little more cautiousness and on our guard, we were met by a few of our young national guards, who, distributed as they were in private lodg- ings, had dressed themselves in great haste, and loaded their guns, issuing forth from the houses by twos, by threes, in small parties, at a loss what to do or whither to go.

"Various and odd was the information we picked up on our progress. " 'The brigands, sir, ay, ay!' cried one, they are coming down from the road of the Apennines.'

"'The Austrians, by —a!' shouted another, have seen many hun- dreds coming up from the rice-grounds.' "'Hussars, brave captain, Hungarian hussars!' said a townsman ; there are many of them plundering widow Berti's farm, on the bank of the river.'

" This way, my friends V screamed another. "Sou are just marching into th.„, lion's jaws. We are encompassed on all aides. Half the garrison of Piacenza is here.' "Presently a drummer of the national guard came down the main street from the East, belabouring his instrument with a zeal and intrepidity which Napoleon would have rewarded with a red riband.

'Stop your infernal noise, you fool !' exclaimed our captain, out of temper, for all those strange tidings had distracted him. What the Devil are you drumming about ? ' " The generale, sir captain!' answered the fellow. I knew him. It was no other person than poor Angelo Brunetti, the Farfarello of our school and our prison. He had run away from his parents on his first arrival from Compiano, and having been refused as a tirailleur on account of his stature, he had volunteered his services to their company, even in that humble capacity. am doing drummer's work, sir, arousing the sleepers."

"'Good!' said the captain ; where is Captain Pelosi ?'

"'Gone, sir ; gone to meet the enemy.'

"'The enemy, but where is the enemy ?' " Plenty of 'em, sir ! 'tis here, there, and everywhere. I funny night this ! I did not think we should have such good sport so soon.'

"Gottardi looked at him. 'Rap on, then, my friend ; there's a good little fellow !' and we passed on. The good little fellow, encouraged by the captain's

flattering appellation, redoubled his efforts, and went rapping on with ad- mirable activity, till he was met by a party of mounted Hungarians, who hewed and trampled him down.

"Meanwhile, a brief consultation took place between Gottardi and his

lieutenant. The two officers marched at the head of our little column, while Lione, Pippo Galli, and I, who followed at a little distance behind, were en- abled to overhear their conversation.

"'What's to be done Modesti ? I hear no report of muskets. By G—d, our commander has bolted!'

" 'Likely enough, if he was warned in time. We shall not get off so cheaply.' "They were right in their surmises. A country lad, from that neighbour- ing farm of widow Berti's to which allusion has been made, and which, out of wanton thirst for plunder, a few hussars had attacked ere the plan of the Austrian commander was carried into complete execution, had providentially made good his escape, and hurried with the bad news to the Ostcria del Cervo,' or Stag Inn ; where the commander Pelosi, the three commissaries, and a few other officers, profiting by that timely information, and by the too leisurely preparations of the enemy, had ordered out the sixty men of the line from the barracks, and at their head had stolen off, directing their course towards the hills, through a mountain-path that had hitherto escaped the attention of our nocturnal invaders; thus leaving the divided and un- prepared national guards and the cavalry to shift for themselves as they could best."