Brigandage, as it exists in the southern countries of Europe, is only
beginning to receive its full measure of credence. There was always a
knowledge, or supposition, that there were robbers in Spain, Italy, and
Greece, who went in bands, and now and then attacked travellers,
plundering them of their purses, and occasionally committing outrages on
their persons. People, however, supposed these cases to be exceptional,
and that the stage representations of brigand life to which in
Transpontine theatres we are treated, were exaggerations, both, as
regards the power and picturesqueness of these banded outlaws. There
were banditti, of course, conceded every one; but these were few and far
between, confined to the fastnesses of the mountains, or concealed in
some pathless forest--only showing themselves by stealth and on rare
occasions upon the public highways, or in the inhabited districts of the
country.
Unhappily, this view of the case is not the correct one. At present,
and for a long time past, the brigands of Italy, so far from skulking in
mountain caves or forest lairs, openly disport themselves in the plains,
even where thickly peopled; not unfrequently making themselves masters
of a village, and retaining possession of it for days at a time. You
may wonder at the weakness of the Italian governments, that permit such
a state of things to exist. But it does exist, sometimes in spite of
the governments, but sometimes also with their secret support and
connivance--notably in the territories of Rome and Naples. To explain
why they connive at it would be to enter upon a religio-political
question which we do not care to discuss--since it might be deemed out
of place in the pages of a mere romantic tale.
The motive of these governments for permitting brigandage was similar to
that which elsewhere gives "comfort and support" to many an association
almost as despicable as brigandage. It is the old story of despotism
all over the world, _Divide et impera_; and prince or priest, if they
cannot govern a people otherwise, will even rule them through the
scourge of the robber.
Were there two forms of religion in Italy, as in Ireland, there would be
no brigands. Then there would be no need of them: since in aspiring to
political liberty the two parties would satisfactorily checkmate one
another, as they have done and still do in Ireland--each preferring
serfdom for itself rather than to share freedom with its hated rival.
Since in Italy there is but one religion, some other means was required
to check and counteract the political liberty of the people. Despotism
had hit upon the device of brigandage, and this is the explanation of
its existence.
The nature of this hideous social sore is but imperfectly understood
outside Italy. It might be supposed an irksome state of existence to
dwell in a country where robbers can ramble about at will, and do pretty
much as they please. And so it would be to any one of sensitive mind or
educated intelligence; but where the bandits dwell, there are few of
this class, the districts infected with them having been long since
surrendered to small tenant-farmers and peasantry. A landed proprietor
does not think of residing on his own estate. If he did, he would be in
danger every day of his life--not of being assassinated, for that would
be a simple act of folly on the part of the brigands--but hurried away
from his home to some rendezvous in the mountains, and there held
captive till his friends could raise a ransom sufficient to satisfy the
cupidity of his captors. This refused--supposing it possible of being
obtained--then he would certainly be assassinated--hanged or shot--
without further hesitancy or equivocation.
Knowing this, from either his own or his neighbour's experience, the
owner of an Italian estate takes the precaution to reside in the towns,
where there is a garrison of regular soldiers, or some other form of
protection for his person. And only _inside_ such a town is he safe. A
single mile beyond the boundary of their suburbs, sometimes even within
them, he runs the risk of getting picked up and carried off, before the
very faces of his friends and fellow-citizens. To deny this would be to
contradict facts of continual occurrence. Scores of such instances are
annually reported, both in the Roman States and in the late Neapolitan
territory--now happily included in a safer and better _regime_, though
still suffering from this chronic curse.
But it may be asked of the peasantry themselves--the small farmers,
shopkeepers, artificers, labourers, shepherds, and the like--how they
live under such an abnormal condition of things?
That is what the world wonders at, more especially the public of
England; which is not very intelligent on any foreign matter, and dull
at comprehending even that which concerns itself. Have we ever heard of
one of our own farmers raising his voice against a war, however cruel or
unjust, against the people of another country, provided it increased the
price of bacon in his own? And in this we have the explanation why the
peasant people of Italy bear up so bravely against brigandage. When a
village baker gets a _pezzo_ (in value something more than a dollar) for
a loaf of bread weighing less than three pounds, the real price in the
nearest town being only threepence; when a labourer gets a similar sum
for his brown bannock of like weight; when his wife has another _pezzo_
for washing a brigand's shirt--the brigandesses being above such work;
when the shepherd asks and obtains a triple price for his goat, kid, or
sheep; and when every other article of bandit clothing or consumption is
paid for at a proportionate famine rate, one need no longer be
astonished at the tolerance of the Italian peasantry towards such
generous customers.
But how about the insults, the annoyances, the dangers to which they are
subject at the hands of these outlaws?
All nonsense. They are not in any danger. They have little to lose,
but their lives; and these the brigands do not care to take. It would
be to kill the goose, and get no more eggs. In the way of annoyances
the English labourer has to submit to quite as many, if not more, in the
shape of heavy taxation, or the interference of a prying policeman; and
when it comes to the question of insult, supposing it to be offered to a
wife or pretty daughter, the Italian peasant is in this respect not much
worse off than the tradesman of many an English town annually abandoned
to the tender mercies of a maudlin militia.
Brigandage, therefore, in the belief of the Italian peasant, is not, at
all times, so very unendurable.
Notwithstanding, there are occasions when it is so, and people suffer
from it grievously. Scenes of cruelty are often witnessed--episodes and
incidents absolutely agonising. These usually occur in places that have
either hitherto escaped the curse of brigandage, or have been for a long
time relieved from it; where owners of estates, deeming themselves safe,
have ventured to reside on their properties, in hopes of realising an
income--more than a moiety of which, under the robber _regime_, goes
into the pockets of their tenantry, the peasant cultivators. And to
prevent this residence of the proprietors on their estates is the very
thing desired by their proletarian retainers, who benefit by their
absence--this begetting another motive, perhaps the strongest of all,
for the toleration of the bandits.
When, in districts for a time abandoned by them, the brigands once more
make appearance, either on a running raid or for permanent occupation,
then scenes are enacted that are truly deplorable. Owners for a time
remain, either hating to break up their households, or unable to dispose
of the property in hand, such as stock or chattels, without ruinous
sacrifice. They live on, trusting to chance, sometimes to favour, and
not unfrequently to a periodical bleeding by black mail, that gains them
the simple indulgence of non-molestation. It is at best but a
precarious position, painful as uncertain.
In just such a dilemma was the father of Luigi Torreani, _sindico_, or
chief magistrate, of the town in which he dwelt, owning considerable
property in the district. Up to a late period he had felt secure from
the incursions of the bandits. He had even gone so far as to gain
ill-will from these outlaws, by the prosecution of two of their number
at a time when there was some safety in the just administration of the
laws. But times had changed. The Pope, occupied with his heretical
enemies outside his sacred dominions, gave little heed to interior
disturbances; and as for Cardinal Antonelli, what cared he for
complaints of brigand outrages daily poured into his ears? Rather, had
he reason for encouraging them--this true descendant of the Caesars and
type of the Caesar Borgias.
It was to this peril in which his father was placed that the paragraph
in Luigi's letter referred. Henry Harding, reflecting within his prison
cell, had hit upon its correct interpretation.