University of Virginia Library

THE STORY
OF
THE BANDIT CHIEFTAIN.

I am a native of the village of Prossedi. My
father was easy enough in circumstances, and we
lived peaceably and independently, cultivating
our fields. All went on well with us until a new
chief of the sbirri was sent to our village to take
command of the police. He was an arbitrary
fellow, prying into every thing, and practising
all sorts of vexations and oppressions in the discharge
of his office.

I was at that time eighteen years of age, and
had a natural love of justice and good neighbourhood.
I had also a little education, and knew

something of history, so as to be able to judge a
little of men and their actions. All this inspired
me with hatred for this paltry despot. My own
family, also, became the object of his suspicion
or dislike, and felt more than once the arbitrary
abuse of his power. These things worked together
on my mind, and I gasped after vengeance.
My character was always ardent and energetic;
and acted upon by my love of justice, determined
me by one blow to rid the country of the tyrant.

Full of my project I rose one morning before
peep of day, and concealing a stiletto under my
waistcoat—here you see it!—(and he drew forth
a long keen poniard)—I lay in wait for him in the
outskirts of the village. I knew all his haunts,
and his habit of making his rounds and prowling
about like a wolf, in the gray of the morning;
at length I met him and attacked him with
fury. He was armed, but I took him unawares,
and was full of youth and vigour. I gave him
repeated blows to make sure work, and laid him
lifeless at my feet.

When I was satisfied that I had done for him,

I returned with all haste to the village, but had
the ill luck to meet two of the sbirri as I entered
it. They accosted me and asked if I had seen
their chief. I assumed an air of tranquillity, and
told them I had not. They continued on their
way, and, within a few hours, brought back the
dead body to Prossedi. Their suspicions of me
being already awakened, I was arrested and
thrown into prison. Here I lay several weeks,
when the prince who was Seigneur of Prossedi
directed judicial proceedings against me. I was
brought to trial, and a witness was produced who
pretended to have seen me not far from the bleeding
body, and flying with precipitation, so I was
condemned to the galleys for thirty years.

“Curse on such laws,” vociferated the bandit,
foaming with rage; “curse on such a government,
and ten thousand curses on the prince who
caused me to be adjudged so rigorously, while
so many other Roman princes harbour and protect
assassins a thousand times more culpable.
What had I done but what was inspired by a love
of justice and my country? Why was my act

more culpable than that of Brutus, when he sacrificed
Cæsar to the cause of liberty and justice!”

There was something at once both lofty and
ludicrous in the rhapsody of this robber chief,
thus associating himself with one of the great
names of antiquity. It showed, however, that
he had at least the merit of knowing the remarkable
facts in the history of his country. He became
more calm, and resumed his narrative.

I was conducted to Civita Vecchia in fetters.
My heart was burning with rage. I had been
married scarce six months to a woman whom I
passionately loved, and who was pregnant. My
family was in despair. For a long time I made
unsuccessful efforts to break my chain. At length
I found a morsel of iron which I hid carefully,
and endeavoured with a pointed flint to fashion
it into a kind of file. I occupied myself in this
work during the night time, and when it was
finished, I made out, after a long time, to sever
one of the rings of my chain. My flight was
successful.

I wandered for several weeks in the mountains
which surround Prossedi, and found means to
inform my wife of the place where I was concealed.
She came often to see me. I had determined
to put myself at the head of an armed
band. She endeavoured for a long time to dissuade
me; but finding my resolution fixed, she
at length united in my project of vengeance, and
brought me, herself, my poniard.

By her means I communicated with several
brave fellows of the neighbouring villages, who
I knew to be ready to take to the mountains, and
only panting for an opportunity to exercise their
daring spirits. We soon formed a combination,
procured arms, and we have had ample opportunities
of revenging ourselves for the wrongs and
injuries which most of us have suffered. Every
thing has succeeded with us until now, and had
it not been for our blunder in mistaking you for
the prince, our fortunes would have been made.

Here the robber concluded his story. He had
talked himself into complete companionship, and
assured me he no longer bore me any grudge for
the error of which I had been the innocent cause.
He even professed a kindness for me, and wished
me to remain some time with them. He
promised to give me a sight of certain grottos
which they occupied beyond Villetri, and whither
they resorted during the intervals of their expeditions.
He assured me that they led a jovial
life there; had plenty of good cheer; slept on
beds of moss, and were waited upon by young
and beautiful females, whom I might take for
models.

I confess I felt my curiosity roused by his descriptions
of these grottos and their inhabitants:
they realized those scenes in robber story which
I had always looked upon as mere creations of
the fancy. I should gladly have accepted his invitation,
and paid a visit to those caverns, could
I have felt more secure in my company.

I began to find my situation less painful. I
had evidently propitiated the good will of the

chieftain, and hoped that he might release me
for a moderate ransom. A new alarm, however,
awaited me. While the captain was looking
out with impatience for the return of the messenger
who had been sent to the prince, the sentinel
who had been posted on the side of the mountain
facing the plain of la Molara, came running
towards us with precipitation. “We are betrayed!”
exclaimed he. “The police of Frescati
are after us. A party of carabiniers have
just stopped at the inn below the mountain.”
Then laying his hand on his stiletto, he swore,
with a terrible oath, that if they made the least
movement towards the mountain, my life and
the lives of my fellow prisoners should answer
for it.

The chieftain resumed all his ferocity of demeanour,
and approved of what his companion
said; but when the latter had returned to his
post, he turned to me with a softened air: “I
must act as chief,” said he, “and humour my
dangerous subalterns. It is a law with us to
kill our prisoners rather than suffer them to be

rescued; but do not be alarmed. In case we
are surprised keep by me; fly with us, and I
will consider myself responsible for your life.”

There was nothing very consolatory in this
arrangement, which would have placed me between
two dangers; I scarcely knew in case of
flight, which I should have most to apprehend
from, the carbines of the pursuers, or the stilettos
of the pursued. I remained silent, however,
and endeavoured to maintain a look of tranquillity.

For an hour was I kept in this state of peril
and anxiety. The robbers, crouching among
their leafy coverts, kept an eagle watch upon
the carabiniers below, as they loitered about the
inn; sometimes lolling about the portal; sometimes
disappearing for several minutes, then
sallying out, examining their weapons, pointing
in different directions and apparently asking
questions about the neighbourhood; not a movement
or gesture was lost upon the keen eyes of
the brigands. At length we were relieved from
our apprehensions. The carabiniers having

finished their refreshment, seized their arms,
continued along the valley towards the great road,
and gradually left the mountain behind them.
“I felt almost certain,” said the chief, “that
they could not be sent after us. They know too
well how prisoners have fared in our hands on
similar occasions. Our laws in this respect are
inflexible, and are necessary for our safety. If
we once flinched from them, there would no
longer be such thing as a ransom to be procured.”

There were no signs yet of the messenger's
return. I was preparing to resume my sketching,
when the captain drew a quire of paper
from his knapsack—“Come,” said he, laughing,
“you are a painter; take my likeness. The
leaves of your port-folio are small; draw it on
this.” I gladly consented, for it was a study
that seldom presents itself to a painter. I recollected
that Salvator Rosa in his youth had voluntarily
sojourned for a time among the banditti
of Calabria, and had filled his mind with the
savage scenery and savage associates by which
he was surrounded. I seized my pencil with

enthusiasm at the thought. I found the captain
the most docile of subjects, and after various
shiftings of position, I placed him in an attitude
to my mind.

Picture to yourself a stern muscular figure, in
fanciful bandit costume, with pistols and poniards
in belt, his brawny neck bare, a handkerchief
loosely thrown round it, and the two ends in
front strung with rings of all kinds, the spoils of
travellers; reliques and medals hung on his
breast; his hat decorated with various coloured
ribbands; his vest and short breeches of bright
colours and finely embroidered; his legs in
buskius or leggins. Fancy him on a mountain
height, among wild rocks and rugged oaks, leaning
on his carbine as if meditating some exploit,
while far below are beheld villages and villas,
the scenes of his maraudings, with the wide Campagna
dimly extending in the distance.

The robber was pleased with the sketch, and
seemed to admire himself upon paper. I had
scarcely finished, when the labourer arrived who
had been sent for my ransom. He had reached

Tusculum two hours after midnight. He
brought me a letter from the prince, who was in
bed at the time of his arrival. As I had predicted,
he treated the demand as extravagant, but
offered five hundred dollars for my ransom. Having
no money by him at the moment, he had
sent a note for the amount, payable to whomever
should conduct me safe and sound to Rome.
I presented the note of hand to the chieftain, he
received it with a shrug. “Of what use are notes
of hand to us?” said he, “who can we send with
you to Rome to receive it? We are all marked
men, known and described at every gate and military
post, and village church door. No, we must
have gold and silver; let the sum be paid in cash
and you shall be restored to liberty.”

The captain again placed a sheet of paper
before me to communicate his determination
to the prince. When I had finished the letter
and took the sheet from the quire, I found on the
opposite side of it the portrait which I had just
been tracing. I was about to tear it off and give
it to the chief.

“Hold,” said he, “let it go to Rome; let them
see what kind of looking fellow I am. Perhaps
the prince and his friends may form as good an
opinion of me from my face as you have done.”

This was said sportively, yet it was evident
there was vanity lurking at the bottom. Even
this wary, distrustful chief of banditti forgot for
a moment his usual foresight and precaution in
the common wish to be admired. He never reflected
what use might be made of this portrait
in his pursuit and conviction.

The letter was folded and directed, and the
messenger departed again for Tusculum. It was
now eleven o'clock in the morning, and as yet we
had eaten nothing. In spite of all my anxiety,
I began to feel a craving appetite. I was glad
therefore to hear the captain talk something of
eating. He observed that for three days and
nights they had been lurking about among rocks
and woods, meditating their expedition to Tusculum,
during which all their provisions had
been exausted. He should now take measures
to procure a supply. Leaving me therefore in

the charge of his comrade, in whom he appeared
to have implicit confidence, he departed, assuring
me that in less than two hours we should
make a good dinner. Where it was to come from
was an enigma to me, though it was evident these
beings had their secret friends and agents
throughout the country.

Indeed, the inhabitants of these mountains and
of the valleys which they embosom are a rude,
half civilized set. The towns and villages
among the forests of the Abruzzi, shut up from
the rest of the world, are almost like savage dens.
It is wonderful that such rude abodes, so little
known and visited, should be embosomed in the
midst of one of the most travelled and civilized
countries of Europe. Among these regions the
robber prowls unmolested, not a mountaineer
hesitates to give him secret harbour and assistance.
The shepherds, however, who tend their
flocks among the mountains, are the favourite
emissaries of the robbers, when they would send
messages down to the valleys either for ransom
or supplies. The shepherds of the Abruzzi are

as wild as the scenes they frequent. They are
clad in a rude garb of black or brown sheep skin,
they have high conical hats, and coarse sandals of
cloth bound round their legs with thongs, similar
to those worn by the robbers. They carry
long staffs, on which as they lean they form picturesque
objects in the lonely landscape, and they
are followed by their ever constant companion
the dog. They are a curious questioning set,
glad at any time to relieve the monotony of their
solitude by the conversation of the passer by,
and the dog will lend an attentive ear, and put
on as sagacious and inquisitive a look as his
master.

But I am wandering from my story. I was
now left alone with one of the robbers, the confidential
companion of the chief. He was the
youngest and most vigorous of the band, and
though his countenance had something of that
dissolute fierceness which seems natural to this
desperate, lawless mode of life, yet there were
traits of manly beauty about it. As an artist I
could not but admire it. I had remarked in him

an air of abstraction and reverie, and at times a
movement of inward suffering and impatience.
He now sat on the ground; his elbows on his
knees, his head resting between his clenched fists,
and his eyes fixed on the earth with an expression
of sad and bitter rumination. I had grown familiar
with him from repeated conversations, and
had found him superior in mind to the rest of the
band. I was anxious to seize every opportunity
of sounding the feelings of these singular beings.
I fancied I read in the countenance of this one
traces of self-condemnation and remorse; and the
ease with which I had drawn forth the confidence
of the chieftain, encouraged me to hope
the same with his followers.

After a little preliminary conversation I ventured
to ask him if he did not feel regret at having
abandoned his family, and taken to this dangerous
profession. “I feel” replied he, “but one regret,
and that will end only with my life,” as he said this
he pressed his clenched fists upon his bosom, drew
his breath through his set teeth, and added with
deep emotion, “I have something within here

thatstifles me; it is like a burning iron consuming
my very heart. I could tell you a misirable story,
but not now—another time.”—He relapsed into
his former position, and sat with his head between
his hands, muttering to himself in broken ejaculations,
and what appeared at times to be curses
and maledictions. I saw he was not in a mood
to be disturbed, so I left him to himself. In a
little time the exhaustion of his feelings, and probably
the fatigues he had undergone in this expedition,
began to produce drowsiness. He
struggled with it for a time, but the warmth and
sultriness of mid-day made it irresistible, and he
at length stretched himself upon the herbage and
fell asleep.

I now beheld a chance of escape within my
reach. My guard lay before me at my mercy.
His vigorous limbs relaxed by sleep; his bosom
open for the blow; his carbine slipped from his
nerveless grasp, and lying by his side; his stiletto
half out of the pocket in which it was usually
carried. But two of his comrades were in sight,
and those at a considerable distance, on the edge

of the mountain; their backs turned to us, and
their attention occupied in keeping a look-out
upon the plain. Through a strip of intervening
forest, and at the foot of a steep descent, I beheld
the village of Rocca Priori. To have secured
the carbine of the sleeping brigand, to have seized
upon his poniard and have plunged it in his heart,
would have been the work of an instant. Should
he die without noise, I might dart through the
forest and down to Rocca Priori before my flight
might be discovered. In case of alarm, I should
still have a fair start of the robbers, and a chance
of getting beyond the reach of their shot.

Here then was an opportunity for both escape
and vengeance; perilous, indeed, but powerfully
tempting. Had my situation been more critical
I could not have resisted it. I reflected,
however, for a moment. The attempt, if successful,
would be followed by the sacrifice of
my two fellow prisoners, who were sleeping
profoundly, and could not be awakened in time
to escape. The labourer who had gone after
the ransom might also fall a victim to the rage

of the robbers, without the money which he
brought being saved. Besides, the conduct of
the chief towards me made me feel certain of
speedy deliverance. These reflections overcame
the first powerful impulse, and I calmed the
turbulent agitation which it had awakened.

I again took out my materials for drawing,
and amused myself with sketching the magnificent
prospect. It was now about noon, and
every thing seemed sunk into repose, like the
bandit that lay sleeping before me. The noon-tide
stillness that reigned over these mountains,
the vast landscape below, gleaming with distant
towns and dotted with various habitations
and signs of life, yet all so silent, had a powerful
effect upon my mind. The intermediate valleys,
too, that lie among mountains have a peculiar
air of solitude. Few sounds are heard at mid
day to break the quiet of the scene. Sometimes
the whistle of a solitary muleteer, lagging with
his lazy animal along the road that winds through
the centre of the valley; sometimes the faint
piping of a shepherd's reed from the side of the

mountain, or sometimes the bell of an ass slowly
pacing along, followed by a monk with bare feet
and bare shining head; and carrying provisions
to the convent.

I had continued to sketch for some time
among my sleeping companions, when at length
I saw the captain of the band approaching, followed
by a peasant leading a mule, on which
was a well-filled sack. I at first apprehended
that this was some new prey fallen into the
hands of the robbers, but the contented look of
the peasant soon relieved me, and I was rejoiced
to hear that it was our promised repast. The
brigands now came running from the three sides
of the mountain, having the quick scent of vultures.
Every one busied himself in unloading
the mule and relieving the sack of its contents.

The first thing that made its appearance was
an enormous ham of a colour and plumpness that
would have inspired the pencil of Teniers. It
was followed by a large cheese, a bag of boiled
chesnuts, a little barrel of wine, and a quantity of
good household bread. Every thing was arranged

on the grass with a degree of symmetry,
and the captain presenting me his knife, requested
me to help myself. We all seated ourselves
round the viands, and nothing was heard for a
time but the sound of vigorous mastication, or
the gurgling of the barrel of wine as it revolved
briskly about the circle. My long fasting and
the mountain air and exercise had given me a
keen appetite, and never did repast appear to me
more excellent or picturesque.

From time to time one of the band was despatched
to keep a look out upon the plain:
no enemy was at hand, and the dinner was undisturbed.

The peasant received nearly twice the value
of his provisions, and set off down the mountain
highly satisfied with his bargain. I felt invigorated
by the hearty meal I had made, and
notwithstanding that the wound I had received
the evening before was painful, yet I could not
but feel extremely interested and gratified by
the singular scenes continually presented to me.
Every thing seemed picture about these wild beings

and their haunts. Their bivouacs, their
groups on guard, their indolent noon-tide repose
on the mountain brow, their rude repast on the
herbage among rocks and trees, every thing presented
a study for a painter. But it was towards
the approach of evening that I felt the
highest enthusiasm awakened.

The setting sun, declining beyond the vast
Campagna, shed its rich yellow beams on the
woody summits of the Abruzzi. Several mountains
crowned with snow shone brilliantly in the
distance, contrasting their brightness with others,
which thrown into shade, assumed deep tints of
purple and violet. As the evening advanced,
the landscape darkened into a sterner character.
The immense solitude around; the wild mountains
broken into rocks and precipices, intermingled
with vast oak, cork and chesnuts; and
the groups of banditti in the fore-ground, reminded
me of those savage scenes of Salvator
Rosa.

To beguile the time the captain proposed to
his comrades to spread before me their jewels

and cameos, as I must doubtless be a judge of
such articles, and able to inform them of their
nature. He set the example, the others followed
it, and in a few moments I saw the grass before
me sparkling with jewels and gems that would
have delighted the eyes of an antiquary or a fine
lady. Among them were several precious jewels
and antique intaglios and cameos of great
value, the spoils doubtless of travellers of distinction.
I found that they were in the habit of
selling their booty in the frontier towns. As
these in general were thinly and poorly peopled,
and little frequented by travellers, they could
offer no market for such valuable articles of taste
and luxury. I suggested to them the certainty
of their readily obtaining great prices for these
gems among the rich strangers with which Rome
was thronged.

The impression made upon their greedy minds
was immediately apparent. One of the band, a
young man, and the least known, requested permission
of the captain to depart the following
day in disguise for Rome, for the purpose of traffick;

promising on the faith of a bandit (a sacred
pledge amongst them) to return in two days to any
place he might appoint. The captain consented,
and a curious scene took place. The robbers
crowded round him eagerly, confiding to him such
of their jewels as they wished to dispose of, and
giving him instructions what to demand. There
was bargaining and exchanging and selling of
trinkets among themselves, and I beheld my
watch which had a chain and valuable seals, purchased
by the young robber merchant of the ruffian
who had plundered me, for sixty dollars. I
now conceived a faint hope that if it went to
Rome, I might somehow or other regain possession
of it.

In the mean time day declined, and no messenger
returned from Tusculum.

The idea of passing another night in the woods
was extremely disheartening; for I began to be
satisfied with what I had seen of robber life.
The chieftain now ordered his men to follow
him that he might station them at their posts,
adding, that if the messenger did not return before

night they must shift their quarters to some
other place.

I was again left alone with the young bandit
who had before guarded me: he had the same
gloomy air and haggard eye, with now and then
a bitter sardonic smile. I was determined to
probe this ulcerated heart, and reminded him of a
kind of promise he had given me to tell me the
cause of his suffering.

It seemed to me as if these troubled spirits
were glad of an opportunity to disburthen themselves;
and of having some fresh undiseased
mind with which they could communicate. I
had hardly made the request but he seated himself
by my side, and gave me his story in, as
nearly as I can recollect, the following words.