University of Virginia Library

THE
PAINTER'S ADVENTURE.

I am an historical painter by profession, and
resided for some time in the family of a foreign
prince, at his villa, about fifteen miles from Rome,
among some of the most interesting scenery of
Italy. It is situated on the heights of ancient
Tusculum. In its neighbourhood are the ruins
of the villas of Cicero, Sylla, Lucullus, Rufinus,
and other illustrious Romans, who sought refuge
here occasionally, from their toils, in the bosom
of a soft and luxurious repose. From the midst
of delightful bowers, refreshed by the pure
mountain breeze, the eye looks over a romantic
landscape full of poetical and historical associations.
The Albanian mountains, Tivoli, once

the favourite residence of Horace and Mæcenas;
the vast deserted Campagna with the Tiber running
through it, and St. Peter's dome swelling
in the midst, the monument—as it were, over the
grave of ancient Rome.

I assisted the prince in the researches which he
was making among the classic ruins of his vicinity.
His exertions were highly successful.
Many wrecks of admirable statues and fragments
of exquisite sculpture were dug up; monuments
of the taste and magnificence that
reigned in the ancient Tusculan abodes. He
had studded his villa and its grounds with statues,
relievos, vases and sarcophagi, thus retrieved
from the bosom of the earth.

The mode of life pursued at the villa was delightfully
serene, diversified by interesting occupations
and elegant leisure. Every one passed
the day according to his pleasure or occupation;
and we all assembled in a cheerful dinner party
at sunset. It was on the fourth of November,
a beautiful serene day, that we had assembled
in the saloon at the sound of the first dinner bell.

The family were surprised at the absence of the
prince's confessor. They waited for him in vain,
and at length placed themselves at table. They
first attributed his absence to his having prolonged
his customary walk; and the first part of the
dinner passed without any uneasiness. When
the desart was served, however, without his making
his appearance, they began to feel anxious.
They feared he might have been taken ill in
some alley of the woods; or, that he might have
fallen into the hands of robbers. At the interval
of a small valley rose the mountains of the
Abruzzi, the strong hold of banditti. Indeed, the
neighbourhood had, for some time, been infested
by them; and Barbone, a notorious bandit chief,
had often been met prowling about the solitudes
of Tusculum. The daring enterprises of these
ruffians were well known; the objects of their
cupidity or vengeance were insecure even in palaces.
As yet they had respected the possessions
of the prince; but the idea of such dangerous
spirits hovering about the neighbourhood was sufficient
to occasion alarm.

The fears of the company increased as evening
closed in. The prince ordered out forest guards,
and domestics with flambeaux to search for the
confessor. They had not departed long, when a
slight noise was heard in the corridor of the
ground floor. The family were dining on the
first floor, and the remaining domestics were occupied
in attendance. There was no one on the
ground floor at this moment but the housekeeper,
the laundress, and three field labourers, who
were resting themselves, and conversing with the
women.

I heard the noise from below, and presuming
it to be occasioned by the return of the absentee,
I left the table, and hastened down stairs, eager
to gain intelligence that might relieve the anxiety
of the prince and princess. I had scarcely
reached the last step, when I beheld before me a
man dressed as a bandit; a carbine in his hand,
and a stiletto and pistols in his belt. His countenance
had a mingled expression of ferocity and
trepidation. He sprang upon me, and exclaimed
exultingly, “Ecco il principe!”

I saw at once into what hands I had fallen,
but endeavoured to summon up coolness and presence
of mind. A glance towards the lower end
of the corridor, showed me several ruffians,
clothed and armed in the same manner with the
one who had seized me. They were guarding
the two females and the field labourers. The
robber, who held me firmly by the collar, demanded
repeatedly whether or not I were the
prince. His object evidently was to carry off
the prince, and extort an immense ransom. He
was enraged at receiving none but vague replies;
for I felt the importance of misleading him.

A sudden thought struck me how I might extricate
myself from his clutches. I was unarmed,
it is true, but I was vigorous. His companions
were at a distance. By a sudden exertion
I might wrest myself from him, and spring up the
staircase, whither he would not dare to follow me
singly. The idea was put in execution as soon
as conceived. The ruffian's throat was bare:
with my right hand I seized him by it, just between
the mastoides; with my left hand I grasped

the arm which held the carbine. The suddenness
of my attack took him completely unawares;
and the strangling nature of my grasp
paralized him. He choked and faltered. I felt
his hand relaxing its hold, and was on the point
of jerking myself away, and darting up the staircase
before he could recover himself, when I
was suddenly seized by some one from behind.

I had to let go my grasp. The bandit, once
more released, fell upon me with fury, and gave
me several blows with the butt end of his carbine,
one of which wounded me severely in the
forehead, and covered me with blood. He
took advantage of my being stunned, to rifle
me of my watch, and whatever valuables I had
about my person.

When I recovered from the effects of the
blow, I heard the voice of the chief of the banditti,
who exclaimed, “Quello e il principe,
siamo contente, audiamo!” (It is the prince,
enough, let us be off.) The band immediately
closed round me, and dragged me out of the
palace, bearing off the three labourers likewise.

I had no hat on, and the blood was flowing
from my wound; I managed to staunch it, however,
with my pocket handkerchief, which I
bound round my forehead. The captain of the
band conducted me in triumph, supposing me to
be the prince. We had gone some distance, before
he learnt his mistake from one of the labourers.
His rage was terrible. It was too late to return
to the villa, and endeavour to retrieve his error,
for by this time the alarm must have been given,
and every one in arms. He darted at me a furious
look; swore I had deceived him, and caused
him to miss his fortune; and told me to prepare
for death. The rest of the robbers were
equally furious. I saw their hands upon their
poniards; and I knew that death was seldom an
empty menace with these ruffians.

The labourers saw the peril into which their
information had betrayed me, and eagerly assured
the captain that I was a man for whom
the prince would pay a great ransom. This produced
a pause. For my part, I cannot say that
I had been much dismayed by their menaces.

I mean not to make any boast of courage; but I
have been so schooled to hardship during the late
revolutions, and have beheld death around me
in so many perilous and disastrous scenes, that I
have become, in some measure, callous to its
terrors. The frequent hazard of life makes a
man at length as reckless of it, as a gambler of
his money. To their threat of death I replied,
“That the sooner it was executed the better.”
This reply seemed to astonish the captain, and
the prospect of ransom held out by the labourers
had, no doubt, a still greater effect on him. He
considered for a moment; assumed a calmer
manner, and made a sign to his companions,
who had remained waiting for my death warrant.
“Forward,” said he, “we will see about this
matter by and bye.”

We descended rapidly towards the road of la
Molara, which leads to Rocca Priori. In the
midst of this road is a solitary inn. The
captain ordered the troop to halt at the distance
of a pistol shot from it; and enjoined profound
silence. He then approached the threshold alone,

with noiseless steps. He examined the outside
of the door very narrowly, and then returning
precipitately, made a sign for the troop to continue
its march in silence. It has since been ascertained,
that this was one of those infamous
inns which are the secret resorts of banditti.
The innkeeper had an understanding with the
captain, as he most probably had with the chiefs
of the different bands. When any of the patroles
and gens d'armes were quartered at his house,
the brigands were warned of it by a preconcerted
signal on the door; when there was no such
signal, they might enter with safety, and be sure
of welcome. Many an isolated inn among the
lonely parts of the Roman territories, and especially
on the skirts of the mountains, have the
same dangerous and suspicious character. They
are places where the banditti gather information;
where they concert their plans, and where the
unwary traveller, remote from hearing or assistance,
is sometimes betrayed to the stiletto of the
midnight murderer.

After pursuing our road a little farther, we struck

off towards the woody mountains, which envelope
Rocca Priori. Our march was long and
painful, with many circuits and windings; at
length we clambered a steep ascent, covered with
a thick forest, and when we had reached the centre,
I was told to seat myself on the earth. No
sooner had I done so, than at a sign from their
chief, the robbers surrounded me, and spreading
their great cloaks from one to the other, formed
a kind of pavilion of mantles, to which their bodies
might be said to seem as columns. The
captain then struck a light, and a flambeau was
lit immediately. The mantles were extended to
prevent the light of the flambeau from being seen
through the forest. Anxious as was my situation,
I could not look round upon this screen of
dusky drapery, relieved by the bright colours of
the robbers' under dresses, the gleaming of their
weapons, and the variety of strong-marked countenances,
lit up by the flambeau, without admiring
the picturesque effect of the scene. It was
quite theatrical.

The captain now held an ink-horn, and giving

me pen and paper, ordered me to write what he
should dictate. I obeyed.—It was a demand,
couched in the style of robber eloquence, “that
the prince should send three thousand dollars for
my ransom, or that my death should be the consequence
of a refusal.”

I knew enough of the desperate character of
these beings to feel assured this was not an idle
menace. Their only mode of insuring attention
to their demands, is to make the infliction of the
penalty inevitable. I saw at once, however,
that the demand was preposterous, and made in
improper language.

I told the captain so, and assured him, that so extravagant
a sum would never be granted; “that
I was neither a friend or relative of the prince,
but a mere artist, employed to execute certain
paintings. That I had nothing to offer as a ransom
but the price of my labours; if this were
not sufficient, my life was at their disposal: it
was a thing on which I sat but little value.”

I was the more hardy in my reply, because I
saw that coolness and hardihood had an effect

upon the robbers. It is true, as I finished speaking
the captain laid his hand upon his stiletto,
but he restrained himself, and snatching the letter,
folded it, and ordered me, in a peremptory
tone, to address it to the prince. He then despatched
one of the labourers with it to Tusculum,
who promised to return with all possible
speed.

The robbers now prepared themselves for sleep,
and I was told that I might do the same. They
spread their great cloaks on the ground, and lay
down around me. One was stationed at a little distance
to keep watch, and was relieved every two
hours. The strangeness and wildness of this
mountain bivouac, among lawless beings whose
hands seemed ever ready to grasp the stiletto,
and with whom life was so trivial and insecure,
was enough to banish repose. The coldness of the
earth and of the dew, however, had a still greater
effect than mental causes in disturbing my rest.
The airs wafted to these mountains from the distant
Mediterranean diffused a great chilliness as
the night advanced. An expedient suggested itself.

I called one of my fellow prisoners, the labourers,
and made him lie down beside me. Whenever
one of my limbs became chilled I approached it
to the robust limb of my neighbour, and borrowed
some of his warmth. In this way I was able
to obtain a little sleep.

Day at length dawned, and I was roused
from my slumber by the voice of the chieftain.
He desired me to rise and follow him. I obeyed.
On considering his physiognomy attentively,
it appeared a little softened. He even assisted
me in scrambling up the steep forest among
rocks and brambles. Habit had made him a vigorous
mountaineer; but I found it excessively
toilsome to climb those rugged heights. We arrived
at length at the summit of the mountain.

Here it was that I felt all the enthusiasm of my
art suddenly awakened; and I forgot, in an instant,
all perils and fatigues at this magnificent
view of the sunrise in the midst of the mountains
of Abruzzi. It was on these heights that
Hannibal first pitched his camp, and pointed out
Rome to his followers. The eye embraces a

vast extent of country. The minor height of
Tusculum, with its villas, and its sacred ruins, lie
below; the Sabine hills and the Albanian mountains
stretch on either hand, and beyond Tusculum
and Frescati spreads out the immense Campagna,
with its line of tombs, and here and there
a broken aqueduct stretching across it, and the
towns and domes of the eternal city in the midst.

Fancy this scene lit up by the glories of a rising
sun, and bursting upon my sight, as I looked forth
from among the majestic forests of the Abruzzi.
Fancy, too, the savage foreground, made still more
savage by groups of the banditti, armed and dressed
in their wild picturesque manner, and you will
not wonder that the enthusiasm of a painter for a
moment overpowered all his other feelings.

The banditti were astonished at my admiration
of a scene which familiarity had made so
common in their eyes. I took advantage of their
halting at this spot, drew forth a quire of drawing
paper, and began to sketch the features of
the landscape. The height, on which I was
seated, was wild and solitary, separated from the

ridge of Tusculum by a valley nearly three miles
wide; though the distance appeared less from
the purity of the atmosphere. This height was
one of the favourite retreats of the banditti, commanding
a look-out over the country; while, at
the same time, it was covered with forests, and
distant from the populous haunts of men.

While I was sketching, my attention was called
off for a moment by the cries of birds and the
bleatings of sheep. I looked around, but could
see nothing of the animals that uttered them.
They were repeated, and appeared to come
from the summits of the trees. On looking
more narrowly, I perceived six of the robbers
perched on the tops of oaks, which grew on the
breezy crest of the mountain, and commanded an
uninterrupted prospect. From hence they were
keeping a look out, like so many vultures; casting
their eyes into the depths of the valley below
us; communicating with each other by signs,
or holding discourse in sounds, which might be
mistaken by the wayfarer, for the cries of hawks
and crows, or the bleating of the mountain flocks.

After they had reconnoitred the neighbourhood,
and finished their singular discourse, they
descended from their airy perch, and returned to
their prisoners. The captain posted three of
them at three naked sides of the mountain, while
he remained to guard us with what appeared his
most trusty companion.

I had my book of sketches in my hand; he
requested to see it, and after having run his eye
over it, expressed himself convinced of the truth
of my assertion, that I was a painter. I thought
I saw a gleam of good feeling dawning in him,
and determined to avail myself of it. I knew
that the worst of men have their good points and
their accessible sides, if one would but study
them carefully. Indeed, there is a singular mixture
in the character of the Italian robber. With
reckless ferocity, he often mingles traits of kindness
and good humour. He is often not radically
bad, but driven to his course of life by some
unpremeditated crime, the effect of those sudden
bursts of passion to which the Italian temperament
is prone. This has compelled him to take

to the mountains, or, as it is technially termed
among them, “andare in Campagna.” He has
become a robber by profession; but like a soldier,
when not in action, he can lay aside his
weapon and his fierceness, and become like other
men.

I took occasion from the observations of the
captain on my sketchings, to fall into conversation
with him. I found him sociable and communicative.
By degress I became completely
at my ease with him. I had fancied I perceived
about him a degree of self-love, which I
determined to make use of. I assumed an air of
careless frankness, and told him that, as artist, I
pretended to the power of judging of the physiognomy;
that I thought I perceived something
in his features and demeanour, which announced
him worthy of higher fortunes. That he was
not formed to exercise the profession to which
he had abandoned himself; that he had talents
and qualities fitted for a nobler sphere of action;
that he had but to change his course of life, and
in a legitimate career, the same courage and endowments
which now made him an object of

terror, would ensure him the applause and admiration
of society.

I had not mistaken my man. My discourse
both touched and excited him. He seized my
hand, pressed it, and replied with strong emotion,
“You have guessed the truth; you have judged
of me rightly.” He remained for a moment silent;
then with a kind of effort he resumed. I
will tell you some particulars of my life, and you
will perceive that it was the oppression of others,
rather than my own crimes, that drove me to the
mountains. I sought to serve my fellow men,
and they have persecuted me from among them.
We seated ourselves on the grass, and the robber
gave me the following anecdotes of his history.