Let us leave for a time these scenes of horror, and follow our fugitives
on the road to Porto d'Anzo. Their hearts are sad, for they are leaving
many dear to them behind in the city, and their road is one of danger,
until it be the sea; but, as they breathe the pure air of the country,
their spirits revive--that country once so populated and fertile, now so
barren and deserted. Perhaps it would be difficult to find another spot
on earth that presents so many objects of past grandeur and present
misery as the Campagna. The ruins, scattered on all sides, give
pleasure to the antiquary, and convince him of the prosperity and
grandeur of its ancient inhabitants, while the sportsman finds beasts
and birds enough to satisfy him; but the lover of mankind mourns, it
is a graveyard of past glories, with the priests for sextons. The
proprietors of these vast plains are few, and those few, priests, who
are too much absorbed by the pleasures and vices of the city, to
visit their properties, keeping, at the most, a few flocks of sheep or
buffaloes.
Brigandage is inseparable from priestly government, which is easy to
understand when we remember that it is supported by the aid of cowardly
and brutal mercenaries. These, becoming robbers, murderers, and
criminal offenders, flee to such places as this desert, where they find
undisturbed refuge and shelter.
Statistics prove that in Rome murders are of more frequent occurrence
in proportion to the population than in any other city. And how, indeed,
can it be otherwise, when we consider the corrupt education instilled by
the priests?
The outlaws are styled brigands, and to these may be added troops of
runaway hirelings of the priests, who have committed such dreadful
ravages during the last few years. We have a sympathy for the wild
spirits who seem to live by plunder, but who retire to the plains, and
pass a rambling life, without being guilty of theft or murder, in order
to escape the humiliations to which the citizen is daily subjected.
The tenacity and courage shown by these in their encounters with the
police and national guards, are worthy of a better cause, and prove that
such men, if led by a lawful ruler, and inspired with a love for their
country, would form an army that would resist triumphantly any foreign
invader.
All "brigands" are, indeed, not assassins.
Orazio, a valorous Roman, though a brigand, was respected and admired
by all in Trastevere, particularly by the Roman women, who never fail to
recognize and appreciate personal bravery.
He was reputed to be descended from the famous Horatius Cocles, who
alone defended a bridge against the army of Porsenna, and, like him,
curiously enough, had lost an eye. Orazio had served the Roman Republic
with honor. While yet a beardless youth he was one of the first who,
on the glorious 30th of April, charged and put to flight the foreign
invaders. In Palestrina he received an honorable wound in the forehead,
and at Velletri, after unhorsing a Neapolitan officer with his
arquebuss, deprived him of his arms, and carried him in triumph to Rome.
Well would it have been for Julia and her friends had men of this type
alone haunted the lonely plain! But when they were not far distant from
the coast, a sudden shot, which brought the coachman down from his seat,
informed our fugitives that they were about to be attacked by brigands,
and were already in range of their muskets. Manlio instantly seized the
reins and whipped the hones, but four of the band, armed to the teeth,
rushed immediately at the horses' heads. "Do not stir, or you are a dead
man," shouted one of the robbers, who appeared to be the leader. Manlio,
convinced that resistance was useless, wisely remained immovable. In no
very gallant tone, the ladies were bidden to descend, but, at the sight
of so much beauty, the robbers became softened at first, for a time, and
fixed their admiring looks upon the exquisite features of the youthful
Clelia and the fair Englishwoman, with some promise of repentance. But
their savage natures soon got the better of such a show of grace. The
chief addressed the disconcerted party in a rough tone, saying, "Ladies,
if you come with us quietly no harm shall happen to _you_, but if you
resist, you will endanger your own lives; while, to show you that we are
in earnest, I shall immediately shoot that man," pointing to Manlio, who
remained stationary on the box. The effects produced upon the terrified
women by this threat were various. Silvia and Aurelia burst into tears,
and Clelia turned deadly pale. Julia, better accustomed to encounter
dangers, preserved her countenance with that fearlessness so
characteristic of her countrywomen. "Will you not," said she, advancing
close to the brigand, "take what we possess? we will willingly give you
all we have;" putting, at the same time, a heavily-filled parse into his
hand, "but spare our lives, and permit us to continue our journey."
The wretch, after carefully weighing the money, replied, "Not so, pretty
lady," as he gazed with ardent eyes from her to Clelia; "it is by
no means every day that we are favored by fortune with such charming
plunder. We are in luck with such lovely ones. You must accompany us."
Julia remained silent, not realizing the villain's presumption; but
Clelia, to whom the chill of despair which struck her when her
father's life was menaced was yielding to a deeper horror still at
the scoundrel's words, with a spasm of anger and terror, snatching her
poniard from her bosom, sprang upon the unprepared bandit.
Julia, seeing the heroic resolution of her friend, also attacked him;
but alas! they had not the chief alone to struggle with. His comrades
came to his assistance, and the English girl was speedily overpowered,
whilst Clelia was left vainly to assail him, for, although she succeeded
in inflicting several wounds, they were of so slight a nature that, with
the aid of a follower, he had no difficulty in wresting her weapon from
her and securing her hands.
When Julia was dragged off by two of the ruffians towards some bushes,
Aurelia and Silvia followed, entreating them not to kill her.
Manlio, who had attempted to leap to the ground to aid his daughter,
had been instantly beaten to the earth, and was being dragged off in the
direction of the same thicket by the band, while the chief brought up
the rear with Clelia in his arms.
All appeared lost. Death--and worse than death--threatened them.
But they had not gone many paces before the knave whose vile arms
encircled Julia was felled to the ground by a blow from a sudden hand;
and Clelia gave a cry of joy as her deliverer raised her from the
ground.