+The Wide World Magazine+
Vol. XXII. OCTOBER, 1908. No. 127.
El Vivillo, the Brigand.
+By Jose Mondego, of Madrid.+
After close on twenty years of warfare with the police,
alternated by brief spells of imprisonment and daring escapes,
the notorious Spanish brigand known as "El Vivillo" has
recently been laid by the heels for what is hoped to be the
last time. Below will be found an account of the outlaw's
exciting career, written by a Spanish journalist thoroughly
familiar with the facts.
Few of the "blood and thunder" novels that have fired the imaginations
of lovers of the sensational have dealt with so interesting and, at
the same time, so fascinating a scoundrel as El Vivillo, an Andalusian
bandit, who was recently arrested in Buenos Ayres, Argentine. At the
moment of writing he lies imprisoned, under a very heavy guard, in
the penal prison at Cadiz, but no one who knows anything about his
career and his extraordinary capacity for wriggling out of difficulties
expects that he will remain within the four walls of his jail very
long. It is freely hinted in high circles in Madrid that the hearts of
many fair and influential ladies of Sunny Spain have been lost to the
daring desperado, and that their owners will move heaven and earth to
secure his release.
Despite his life of crime and undoubted viciousness, El Vivillo has
been the favourite hero of the youth of his country for more than
eighteen years. This is not his first term behind prison bars; but all
attempts to keep him there long have hitherto proved unsuccessful.
Either by the expenditure of money in large sums, the influence of
those in high places, or his own genius as a jail-breaker, he has
walked out apparently when he pleased.
[Illustration: EL VIVILLO, THE NOTORIOUS SPANISH BRIGAND.
_From a Photograph._]
Like most heroes, either of fiction or reality, El Vivillo seems to
have borne a charmed life. Of the reckless band of lawless characters
he led during his eighteen years as premier "knight of the road,"
El Vivillo, with one exception, is the only one still alive. All
the others have fallen in skirmishes with that very excellent and
sure-shooting body of mounted police, the Civil Guards. El Vivillo's
sole fellow-survivor of those strenuous times is Pajarita, his
lieutenant, who is now undergoing a sentence of ninety-one years' penal
servitude in Cordova prison. Pajarita yields only to his chief in his
record of rascality.
A halo of romance has grown up around El Vivillo and his band.
According to the general opinion among the ignorant Spaniards of the
countryside, he is a sort of second Robin Hood, robbing the rich to
assist the poor. Some of the stories which are told of him, and on
which this view is based, are undoubtedly true, but the great majority
of them are woven out of thin air by imaginative newspaper writers.
El Vivillo was born in the Andalusian town of Estepa as long ago as
1865. As a very young boy he acquired a remarkable dexterity with
cards, and it was through the constant exercise of this talent that
he earned the nickname by which he has always been known, to the
exclusion of his family "handle." El Vivillo translated into English
means "Lively Little One," and from all accounts the future bandit was
a particularly "lively" youth. His parents appear to have been honest,
simple folks, and made a real effort to train him for a commercial
career. He was sent to Cordova to serve an apprenticeship in a business
house, but his employer soon bundled him back home again because of his
unruly ways. He then remained under the paternal roof until he reached
the age of twenty-three, when both his parents died, and he inherited a
small fortune.
[Illustration: THE HOUSE AT ESTEPA WHERE EL VIVILLO WAS BORN.
_From a Photograph._]
El Vivillo immediately started out to "paint the town red." His one
idea seems to have been to get rid of his fortune in record time,
and so successful was he that in two years he was penniless. At this
embarrassing point in his career he fell violently in love with the
girl who afterwards became his wife. She was a beautiful, dark-eyed
lass, named Dolores Gomez, and had hosts of admirers. What she saw
in El Vivillo to admire it is hard to say--indeed, what the scores
of women who afterwards lost their hearts to the bold rascal saw
in him it is equally difficult to discover. He is to-day a burly,
ruddy-complexioned man, with distinctly vulgar and repulsive features,
and it does not seem possible that he could ever have been attractive
to feminine eyes. His manner is harsh and over-bearing, and he feels,
and makes no bones about expressing, a supreme contempt for the softer
passions of the heart.
With his fortune dissipated El Vivillo was in no condition to
contemplate immediate marriage. He decided to remove the financial
obstacle in the shortest, quickest, and easiest way. After an
unsuccessful attempt to turn his skill with the cards to advantage at
the Municipal Casino of his home town, he threw in his lot with a band
of smugglers. The future bandit's ingenuity and nimble wit soon made
him a favourite with the majority of his fellow-contrabandists, but
they also aroused the jealousy of one of the leaders, nicknamed Lobo
(Wolf). The latter was renowned for his dexterity with the dagger, and
he took an early opportunity of attempting to prove to the newcomer
that his fame in that respect was well deserved. One evening, when the
members of the band were celebrating an especially successful day's
work in a café in Estepa, a quarrel broke out between El Vivillo and
Lobo over a game of cards. At the latter's suggestion it was decided
to determine the merits of the dispute with the knife, so the two
men adjourned to the street, where there was more room and a larger
audience. Heated with wine, the combatants drew their long daggers,
wrapped their coats around their free arms, and set to. A large
crowd gathered and cheered the fighters. Much to his surprise, Lobo
discovered that his opponent knew a trick or two about the use of the
knife that he himself had failed to learn, and to the astonishment of
the spectators, after a particularly lively mêlée, El Vivillo finally
ran him through the heart with a well-directed thrust. Before he had an
opportunity to get out of town El Vivillo was arrested and thrown into
prison. But that mysterious personage, the influential friend, came to
his assistance, and he was shortly at large again.
Instead of reforming him, this experience only seemed to strengthen El
Vivillo in his career of lawlessness. Soon after his release he took
to the countryside as a bandit, and rapidly organized one of the most
famous bands of brigands that have ever infested that country.
From this point in his life it is difficult to trace El Vivillo's
progress clearly. Various crimes attributed to him were undoubtedly
committed by other men of inferior calibre. On the other hand, he was
able to escape punishment for many outrages which there is no doubt
that he committed, by establishing remarkably clever alibis. On one
occasion, for instance, he held up the diligence on its way to the
village of Villamartin. After safely hiding his spoils, the bandit, by
means of a relay of horses which had been provided in advance, galloped
to a favourite retreat forty miles away in an incredibly short space of
time. There--apparently in an intoxicated condition--he showed himself
to a posse of the Civil Guard. Later, he was arrested on suspicion
and tried for the crime, but his cleverly-contrived alibi proved too
much for the officers of the law to combat, and he was triumphantly
acquitted.
Among the outrages definitely fastened upon El Vivillo are the sacking
of a mansion at Torredonjimino, when he secured more than twenty
thousand dollars; the seizure of an Andalusian millionaire on the high
road to Anteguera, when the bandit shot three servants who attempted to
defend their employer's property; and another highway robbery between
Cabra and Priego, on which occasion the bandit was captured and placed
in prison at the latter town, escaping, as usual, after two days'
confinement.
[Illustration: THE SPANISH TOWN OF SETENIL, THE SCENE OF SOME OF EL
VIVILLO'S MOST DARING EXPLOITS.
_From a photograph._]
Another exploit of El Vivillo occurred between Setenil and Villamartin.
A wealthy landowner named Don Pedro Guzman was travelling towards the
latter town, accompanied by his steward, when they were held up by El
Vivillo's band on horseback and forced to dismount. They were ordered
to throw their guns on the ground, and the bandits made a search of
their persons, relieving the master of thirty-eight thousand Spanish
reals in bank-notes and some cash--money which was destined for the
purchase of live stock at the annual fair at Villamartin.
Master and man were then seated upon the ground with their elbows
tied together at a spot hidden from the road. There they remained in
their uncomfortable posture from ten o'clock in the morning until
two in the afternoon, during which time the brigands "bagged" seven
other travellers, also going to the Villamartin fair and all carrying
considerable sums of money. The bandits then rode away, leaving their
disconsolate victims to untie themselves as best they could.
In Estepa, his native town, El Vivillo has been several times
imprisoned, usually for horse-stealing, but he invariably managed to
escape in some extraordinary manner. Some four years ago his wife
was suspected of maintaining secret correspondence with him. She was
imprisoned, and remained under lock and key for eighteen months. It
was subsequently proved that during all this time El Vivillo, although
a fugitive from justice, had managed to visit her in jail whenever he
pleased. An investigation was made, but it has never been discovered
how he arranged it.
When El Vivillo went into hiding he employed an ingenious stratagem to
put his pursuers off the scent. He would address letters to various
well-known people of Andalusia and, enclosing them to Algiers or
Tangier, would cause them to be sent to their destination, bearing,
of course, French stamps and post-office marks. This ruse effectually
convinced inquisitive police officials that El Vivillo was really out
of the country.
Many anecdotes are told of the famous bandit. There is one that
illustrates his kindness to the poor. Entering a farm-house not far
from Setenil, one day, with the intention of robbing the inmates, he
found the family in great distress. Times had been very hard with
them. Cattle had strayed or been lost or stolen; the excessively dry
season had almost ruined the crops and vines, and for some time they
had been behind-hand with the rent. Now they were finally threatened
with expulsion on the following morning if the amount due to the
landlord--some ten pounds--was not forthcoming.
Greatly attached to their home, and absolutely without hope of raising
even a _peseta_ towards the sum required, the farmer and his family
were sitting round the open fireplace in dumb despair. Careful of
the duties of hospitality, however, they offered the stranger bread
and a skin of rough, red wine to satisfy his appetite. El Vivillo,
on discovering the cause of their unhappiness, declared that he, the
next morning, would bring them the sum of money they so much stood
in need of. Jumping into the saddle, he rode to the landlord's house
and, placing a pistol to the man's head, forced him to hand over ten
pounds--neither more nor less. Riding safely away he returned to the
poor farmer, and thrusting the money into the astonished man's hand,
went off chuckling over the knowledge that the landlord's rent would be
punctually paid with his own money.
[Illustration: "HE FORCED HIM TO HAND OVER TEN POUNDS."]
Perhaps the most daring of El Vivillo's exploits, however, was his
robbing of his old enemies, the Civil Guard themselves, single-handed.
He learnt that on a certain day a pair of them were going to bring
a large sum in specie into Seville. Riding out into the country,
he entered the _posada_ where the two officers were about to
commence their midday meal. He got into conversation with them, and
they finally invited him to share their repast. El Vivillo proved
himself a delightful table companion, and the two officers of the
law congratulated themselves upon meeting such a good fellow. Their
awakening was a rude one, therefore, when the bandit pulled out a brace
of revolvers and said: "I am El Vivillo; kindly hand over the money in
those two bags." The guards were helpless, and had the mortification of
seeing their guest ride away in safety with his booty.
The bandit once escaped what appeared to be certain capture by
remarkable coolness and presence of mind. While he was seated with some
friends in a house in Setenil, playing the national card game, "tute,"
one of his numerous protégés ran into the room with the alarming news
that the Civil Guard were approaching the house bent upon his capture.
His companions offered all kinds of advice--he must hide under a pile
of sheep-skins lying in the corner, he must drop out of a rear window,
he must climb out upon the roof and lie quietly hidden there, and so
on. El Vivillo, however, begged them to be quite at ease and continue
their interrupted game as if nothing were about to happen. Descending
the staircase he opened the front door and came face to face with
a patrol of the Civil Guard. They inquired whether he had seen El
Vivillo. In a firm voice he replied that he had--that he had even been
playing cards with him, but that, half an hour before, the bandit had
ridden off to a neighbouring village. The officers dashed off in hot
haste in the direction indicated, but, needless to say, did not succeed
in capturing El Vivillo on that occasion.
[Illustration: A DETACHMENT OF THE CIVIL GUARD WHICH WAS STATIONED AT
SETENIL, AND WAS SEVERAL TIMES ENGAGED WITH EL VIVILLO AND HIS BAND.
_From a Photograph._]
The brigand's family is composed of five children--two sons and three
daughters. One of the former is married, and resides in Estepa. The
three girls--Dolores, Carmen, and Consuelo--are noted beauties, with
the voluptuous figure, dark hair, eyes, and complexion that have made
Andalusian women famous. They all speak French correctly--an unusual
accomplishment in the children of a Spanish brigand; and in their small
but comfortably furnished house in Estepa there is a piano, a luxury
for Spain, which the second daughter plays with exceptional ability.
Expelled by the police to Gibraltar last November, the children
took steamer to Buenos Ayres, and so unwittingly caused the Spanish
authorities to suspect that El Vivillo, who was badly wanted, was in
hiding there. Information was sent to the Spanish Legation in the
Argentine capital, and a few days after the arrival of his family El
Vivillo was prosaically arrested at a ranch tenanted by him at the
village of Ensenada, near La Plata.
That misplaced admiration of, and sympathy for, those accused of crime
is not confined to the fair sex of any one country is proved by the
treatment El Vivillo has received since his arrest. While he was in
jail at Buenos Ayres he received hundreds of letters of commiseration
from women, many containing offers of assistance and money. It is said
that he amassed a tidy sum by charging five dollars apiece for his
autographs, which were in great demand among the Spanish señoritas of
the South American city.
[Illustration: