Читать книгу Rule of the Monk; Or, Rome in the Nineteenth Century - Garibaldi Giuseppe - Страница 23

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.