Litchfield enquirer., 1851-05-15
D0pnIar TaGeS.
THE IRON SHROVD.

precipitous rock of Scylla, and command
cd magnificent view of Sicily, in all its
grandeur. Here, during the wars of the
middle ages, wien the fertile plains of
Italy were devastated by hostile factions,
those prisoners were confined, for whose
ransom costly price was demanded.
Here, too, in dungeon, excavated deep
in the solid rock, the miserable victim
was immured, whom revenge pursued
the dark, fierce, and Implying revenge
of an Italian heart.
V1vExzro-the noble and the gener-
Gus, the fearless in battle, and the pride
of Naples in her sunny hours of peace !;
the young, the brave, the proud Vivenzio
fell beneath this subtle and remorseless
spirit. He was the prisoner of Tolf, and
he languished in that rock eneircled dun
geon, which stood alone, and whose por-
tails never opened twice upon living
captive.
1t had the semblance of vast cage,
for the roof and floor. and sides were of
iron, solidly wrought and spaciously con-
structed. High above there ran range
of seven grated windows, guarded with
massy bars of the same metal, which ad-
mitted light and air. Save these, and the
tall folding doors beneath them, which
occupied the centre, no chink or chasm,
or projection, broke tie smooth, black
surface of the walls. An iron bedstead,
Uttered with straw, stood in one corner !;
and beside it, vessel with water, and a
coarse dish filled with coarser food.
Even the intripid soul of Vivenzio
shrunk with dismay as he entered this
abode, and heard the ponderous doors
triple locked by the silent ruffians who
conducted him to it. Their silence SEEM
ed to be prophetic of his fate, of the IL
wing grave that had been prepared for
him. His menaces and his entreaties, his
indignant appeals for justice, and his inn
patient questioning of their intentions,
were alike vain. They listened but spoke
not. Fit ministers of crime that should
have no tongue!
How dismal was the sound of their re-
firing steps, And, as their faint echoes
died along the winding passages, fear
full presage grew within him, that never
more the face, or voice, or tread of man
would greet his senses. He had seen
human beings for the last time He
had looked his last upon the bright sky,
and upon the smiling earth, and upon a
beautiful world he loved, and whose min.
ion he had been! Here he was to end
his life-a life he had just begun to rev.
ell in! And by what means? BY secret
poison i? or by murderous assault? No;
for then it had been needless to bring him
thither. Famine, perhaps-a thousand
deaths in one 1t was terrible to think
of it--but it was yet more terrible to pic
ture long, long years of captivity. in a
solitude SO appalling, loneliness so drea-
ry, that thought. for want of fellowship,
would lose itself in madness, or stagnate
into idiocy.
He could not hope to escape, unless he
had the power, with his bare hands, of
rending assunder the solid iron walls of
his prison. He could not hope for lib
erty from the relentless mercies of his
enemy. His instant death, under any
form of refined cruelty, was not the OBJ
iect of Tolf; for he mi ght have inflicted
it, and he had not. 1t was too evident
therefore, he was preserved for some pre-.
meditated scheme of subtle vengeance
and what vengeance could transcend in
iendish malice either the slow death oil
famine, or the still slower one of solitary
Incarceration, till the last lingering spark
of life expired, or till reason fed, and no.
thing should remain to. perish but the
brute functions of the body?
1t was evening when Vivenzio entered
his dungeon; and the approaching shades
of night wrapped it in total darkness, MS
he paced up and down, revolving in his
mind these horrible forebodings. No
tolling bell from the castle. or from any
neighboring church or convent. struck
upon his ear TO tell how the hours pass
ed. Frequently he would stop and lis
ten to some sound that might betoken
the vicinity of man but the solitude Of
the desert. the silence of the tomb, are
1 not SO still and deep as the oppressive
desolation by which he was encompassed.
His heart sank within him, and he threw
himself dejectedly upon his couch Of
straw. Here sleep gradually obliterated
the consciousness of misery, and bland
dreams waited his delighted spirit to
scenes which were once glowing realities
Tor him, in whose ravishing illusions he
soon lost the remembrance that he was
Tolfi's prisoner.
When he awoke, it was daylight; but
how he had slept he knew not. II might
be early morning, or it might be sultry
noon; for he could measure time by no
other note Of its progress than light and
darkness. He had been so happy in his
sleep, amid friends who loved him, and
the sweeter endearments Of those who
loved him ~ friends could not, that In
the first moments OF waking, his startled
mind seemed 10 admit tho knowledge oil
/ his eitualion, IA III II hal hul.at imam n IA,