Silvio Pellico was one of the latest and most illustrious of the
prison writers of Italy. He lay confined in Austrian gaols for
ten years, eight of which he passed in the Castle of Spielberg in
Moravia. It was there that he composed his charming 'Memoirs,'
the only materials for which were furnished by his fresh living
habit of observation; and out of even the transient visits of his
gaoler's daughter, and the colourless events of his monotonous
daily life, he contrived to make for himself a little world of
thought and healthy human interest.
Kazinsky, the great reviver of Hungarian literature, spent
seven years of his life in the dungeons of Buda, Brunne,
Kufstein, and Munkacs, during which he wrote a 'Diary of his
Imprisonment,' and amongst other things translated Sterno's
'Sentimental Journey;' whilst Kossuth beguiled his two years'
imprisonment at Buda in studying English, so as to be able to
read Shakspeare in the original.
Men who, like these, suffer the penalty of law, and seem to fail,
at least for a time, do not really fail. Many, who have seemed to
fail utterly, have often exercised a more potent and enduring
influence upon their race, than those whose career has been a
course of uninterupted success. The character of a man does not
depend on whether his efforts are immediately followed by failure
or by success. The martyr is not a failure if the truth for which
he suffered acquires a fresh lustre through his sacrifice.
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