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hardly breathe in it； or see in it with the aid of a torch。 At the
upper end of this dungeon； and consequently in the worst position；
as being the furthest removed from light and air； the Englishman
first beheld him； sitting on an iron bedstead to which he was
chained by a heavy chain。 His countenance impressed the Englishmen
as having nothing in common with the faces of the malefactors with
whom he was associated； and he talked with him； and learnt how he
came to be there。
When the Englishman emerged from the dreadful den into the light of
day； he asked his conductor； the governor of the jail； why Giovanni
Carlavero was put into the worst place？
'Because he is particularly recommended；' was the stringent answer。
'Recommended； that is to say； for death？'
'Excuse me； particularly recommended；' was again the answer。
'He has a bad tumour in his neck； no doubt occasioned by the
hardship of his miserable life。 If he continues to be neglected；
and he remains where he is； it will kill him。'
'Excuse me； I can do nothing。 He is particularly recommended。'
The Englishman was staying in that town； and he went to his home
there； but the figure of this man chained to the bedstead made it
no home； and destroyed his rest and peace。 He was an Englishman of
an extraordinarily tender heart； and he could not bear the picture。
He went back to the prison grate； went back again and again； and
talked to the man and cheered him。 He used his utmost influence to
get the man unchained from the bedstead； were it only for ever so
short a time in the day； and permitted to come to the grate。 It
look a long time； but the Englishman's station； personal character；
and steadiness of purpose； wore out opposition so far； and that
grace was at last accorded。 Through the bars； when he could thus
get light upon the tumour； the Englishman lanced it； and it did
well； and healed。 His strong interest in the prisoner had greatly
increased by this time； and he formed the desperate resolution that
he would exert his utmost self…devotion and use his utmost efforts；
to get Carlavero pardoned。
If the prisoner had been a brigand and a murderer； if he had
committed every non…political crime in the Newgate Calendar and out
of it； nothing would have been easier than for a man of any court
or priestly influence to obtain his release。 As it was； nothing
could have been more difficult。 Italian authorities； and English
authorities who had interest with them； alike assured the
Englishman that his object was hopeless。 He met with nothing but
evasion； refusal； and ridicule。 His political prisoner became a
joke in the place。 It was especially observable that English
Circumlocution； and English Society on its travels； were as
humorous on the subject as Circumlocution and Society may be on any
subject without loss of caste。 But； the Englishman possessed （and
proved it well in his life） a courage very uncommon among us： he
had not the least fear of being considered a bore； in a good humane
cause。 So he went on persistently trying； and trying； and trying；
to get Giovanni Carlavero out。 That prisoner had been rigorously
re…chained； after the tumour operation； and it was not likely that
his miserable life could last very long。
One day； when all the town knew about the Englishman and his
political prisoner； there came to the Englishman； a certain
sprightly Italian Advocate of whom he had some knowledge； and he
made this strange proposal。 'Give me a hundred pounds to obtain
Carlavero's release。 I think I can get him a pardon； with that
money。 But I cannot tell you what I am going to do with the money；
nor must you ever ask me the question if I succeed； nor must you
ever ask me for an account of the money if I fail。' The Englishman
decided to hazard the hundred pounds。 He did so； and heard not
another word of the matter。 For half a year and more； the Advocate
made no sign； and never once 'took on' in any way； to have the
subject on his mind。 The Englishman was then obliged to change his
residence to another and more famous town in the North of Italy。
He parted from the poor prisoner with a sorrowful heart； as from a
doomed man for whom there was no release but Death。
The Englishman lived in his new place of abode another half…year
and more； and had no tidings of the wretched prisoner。 At length；
one day； he received from the Advocate a cool； concise； mysterious
note； to this effect。 'If you still wish to bestow that benefit
upon the man in whom you were once interested； send me fifty pounds
more； and I think it can be ensured。' Now； the Englishman had long
settled in his mind that the Advocate was a heartless sharper； who
had preyed upon his credulity and his interest in an unfortunate
sufferer。 So； he sat down and wrote a dry answer； giving the
Advocate to understand that he was wiser now than he had been
formerly； and that no more money was extractable from his pocket。
He lived outside the city gates； some mile or two from the post…
office； and was accustomed to walk into the city with his letters
and post them himself。 On a lovely spring day； when the sky was
exquisitely blue； and the sea Divinely beautiful； he took his usual
walk； carrying this letter to the Advocate in his pocket。 As he
went along； his gentle heart was much moved by the loveliness of
the prospect； and by the thought of the slowly dying prisoner
chained to the bedstead； for whom the universe had no delights。 As
he drew nearer and nearer to the city where he was to post the
letter； he became very uneasy in his mind。 He debated with
himself； was it remotely possible； after all； that this sum of
fifty pounds could restore the fellow…creature whom he pitied so
much； and for whom he had striven so hard； to liberty？ He was not
a conventionally rich Englishman … very far from that … but； he had
a spare fifty pounds at the banker's。 He resolved to risk it。
Without doubt； GOD has recompensed him for the resolution。
He went to the banker's； and got a bill for the amount； and
enclosed it in a letter to the Advocate that I wish I could have
seen。 He simply told the Advocate that he was quite a poor man；
and that he was sensible it might be a great weakness in him to
part with so much money on the faith of so vague a communication；
but； that there it was； and that he prayed the Advocate to make a
good use of it。 If he did otherwise no good could ever come of it；
and it would lie heavy on his soul one day。
Within a week； the Englishman was sitting at his breakfast； when he
heard some suppressed sounds of agitation on the staircase； and
Giovanni Carlavero leaped into the room and fell upon his breast； a
free man！
Conscious of having wronged the Advocate in his own thoughts； the
Englishman wrote him an earnest and grateful letter； avowing the
fact； and entreating him to confide by what means and through what
agency he had succeeded so well。 The Advocate returned for answer
through the post； 'There are many things； as you know； in this
Italy of ours； that are safest and best not even spoken of … far
less written of。 We may meet some day； and then I may tell you
what you want to know； not here； and now。' But； the two never did
meet again。 The Advocate was dead when the Englishman gave me my
trust； and how the man had been set free； remained as great a
mystery to the Englishman； and to the man himself； as it was to me。
But； I knew this：… here was the man； this sultry night； on his
knees at my feet； because I was the Englishman's friend； here were
his tears upon my dress； here were his sobs choking his utterance；
here were his kisses on my hands； because they had touched the
hands that had worked out his release。 He had no need to tell me
it would be happiness to him to die for his benefactor； I doubt if
I ever saw real； sterling； fervent gratitude of soul； before or
since。
He was much watched and suspected； he said； and had had enough to
do to keep himself out of trouble。 This； and his not having
prospered in his worldly affairs； had led to his having failed in
his usual communications to the Englishman for … as I now remember
the period … some two or three years。 But； his prospects were
brighter； and his wife who had been very ill had recovered； and his
fever had left him； and he had bought a little vineyard； and would
I carry to his benefactor the first of its wine？ Ay； that I would
（I told him with enthusiasm）； and not a drop of it should be
spilled or lost！
He had cautiously closed the door before speaking of himself； and
had talked with such excess of emotion； and in a provincial Italian
so difficult to understand； that I had more than once been obliged
to stop him； and beg him to have compassion on me and be slower and
calmer。 By degrees he became so； and tranquilly walked back with
me to the hotel。 There； I sat down before I we