The contrivance is by which the unfortunate was rescued from his perilous situation was so theatrical that we can hardly help suspecting that the incidents of this story have been arranged with a sharp eye to effect. The man's fate seemed certain when our author espied a sleigh approaching at a considerable distance. No doubt it contained young Count Pomerin, the owner of the estate. If a little delay could be obtained, the steward might be saved. At this juncture are friend Harry interfered. "I'll try," he exclaimed; "blow me if I don't. The buffer's bad lot, but I sha'n't see him killed;" and with that he jumped into the water, and was by the steward's side in a moment. The noise and stoning ceased, for Harry was a prime favorite; but the mob was not to be baulked of its vengeance, and after a vigorous exchange of expostulations, in the course of which Harry made several remarks that were more forcible than polite, the chivalrous Englishman was pulled out of the water, kicking stoutly, and the pelting was about to be renewed.
Just at this moment the sleigh, drawn by three magnificent greys, dashed into the centre of the crowd. Three gentlemen occupied it. Two were in official costume. The third, a tall, well-built man, rose, and threw off Is rich black fox-skin cloak, and the mob beheld, dressed in the uniform of a general, not the young count, but his father, who had been exiled years before, and was thought to be dead. He had now come hack, with an imperial pardon, prepared to resume the management of his estates. The steward was extricated from the water, and immediately called upon to [{118}] settle his accounts. The old count had visited the estate before in disguise, and knew how it had been mismanaged. He had witnessed and all ready to Convict the steward of peculation, and the result was that the wretched man was compelled to refund on the spot $750,000 of stolen wealth, and then allowed twenty-four hours to leave the place.
The next scene in this pretty little drama was between the count and his serfs. He called them all together, and told them they were free from that moment. He did not intend to wait for the period of emancipation fixed by the ukase. Moreover, he gave to each male peasant three acres of land, free of price—parting thus with one-sixth of his estate. The whole assembled multitude then went down on their knees, and cried, "Thanks, thanks, good count, the illustrious master—God bless you!" And here, according to all dramatic rules, unless there was somebody to be married, the thing ought to have ended. But behold, ten grey-bearded peasants, who evidently had no idea of propriety, stepped forward and wanted to know what they were to do with their cows? Three acres would be enough for garden and green fields, but it would not give them pasture. Would not his excellency add to his gift? and so might God bless him! Well, the count allotted them pasture for ten years; and then the ten grey-beards advanced again, with the cry a Russian always raises when you give him anything—"prebavit" (add to it). Pasture was very good, but how were they to get firewood? "If it please your high-born excellency, add to your gift firewood. Prebavit!" So his high born excellency added firewood; and the incorrigible peasant stepped up again. "Prebavit! How were they to get fish? Would it please his high born excellency to let them fish in the lakes?" There were the usual thanks and the prostrations when this was granted; and then "prebavit" again; they wanted something else; but they did not get it, and the meeting broke up. A little while afterward our author revisited the estate, and found that it had undergone a marvellous change. The village was no longer a collection of mud huts, but a thriving town. The people were not like the same beings; and there was decided evidence of the rise of a middle class—a class once unknown in such places.
Our author gives us an obscure glimpse of a curious religious sect in Russia called the starrie verra, or "old faith," of whose peculiarities be knows little, and of whoso history be confesses that he know a nothing at all. It's members deem the present Russian Church an awful departure from the primitive faith and practice; deny the emperor's claim to be the head of the church; believe to any extent in witches; fast, scourge themselves; meet in secret, generally at night (for they are rigorously proscribed); hate the established religion of the realm has much as the old Scotch Puritans hated prelacy; and, if they had their wish, would probably advance the Czar to the dignity of martyrdom. It is said that many distinguished personages privately adhere to them, and submit to dreadful midnight penances, by way of compounding for the sin of outward subserviency to the modern heresy. People of the old faith are distinguished by a grim gravity and opposition to all dancing or light amusement. Our author had a woman-servant of this sect, who was remarkable for never stealing anything, and for continually smashing crockery which she supposed to have been defiled. There was a community of the old faith near his residence? An old wooden building like a Druid temple, set in the side of a hill among trees and rocks, was pointed out to him as the place of their midnight conventicles. It was said to be presided over by a priestess who never left the temple by night or by day. A roving fanatic, whom the writer sometimes encountered in the village, collecting [{119}] peasants around him and shouting like a street-ranter, was looked up to by the sectaries as a prophet; though he was certainly not a very reputable one, being often helplessly drunk, and not very decently clad. He wore no covering for head or feet, even in the severest frost. He carried a long pole, and danced some holy dance, to words of high prophetic omen. Our author was rather surprised to find that, thanks to his crockery-smashing cook, he himself was commonly reputed a priest of the starrie verra; the big volumes of the illustrated London News in which he used to read were supposed to be illuminated Lives of the Saints, and the little plays and dramatic scenes which his children used to perform on winter evenings were looked upon with holy awe as religious rites of dreadful power and significance. He bore his honors without complaining, and even when the cook, on the night of a party, broke all his best Wedgwood dinner-set, brought from England at a huge expense, he endured the loss with Christian patience: it was so delightful to have a Russian servant who would not steal.
From Russian servants to Italian brigands the transition is perfectly natural. Both are rogues of the same class, only external circumstances have made a difference in their modes of doing business. An English gentleman named Moens has recently obtained a more intimate acquaintance with the robber bands of Southern Italy than any of our readers need hope to make, and has given us the result of his observations in a very curious and interesting volume. [Footnote 25] Mr. and Mrs. Moens, and the Rev. J. C. Murray Aynsley and his wife, had been visiting the ruins of Paestum, on the Gulf of Salerno, on the 15th of May, 1865, when their carriage was stopped on the way home by a band of about twenty or thirty brigands.
[Footnote 25: English travelers and Italian Brigands. the Narrative of Capture and Captivity. By W. J. C. Moens. With a Map and several illustrations. 12mo. pp. 355. New York: Harper & Brothers.]
The ladies were not molested, but the gentlemen were hurried off across the fields, and through woods and thickets, until nearly daylight the next morning, when they were allowed to lie down to sleep for a short time on the bare earth. As soon as they felt themselves in a place of security the band halted, and their captain, a fine-looking fellow, named Manzo, got out paper and pen and proceeded to business. The two Englishmen were to be well treated, provided they made no attempt to escape, and on the payment of a ransom were to be released without injury. The sum demanded for the two was at first 100,000 ducats, or about $85,000, but this was afterward reduced one-half. It was now agreed that one of the two captives should be allowed to go for the money, and lots were drawn to determine upon whom this agreeable duty should fall. Good fortune inclined to the side of Mr. Aynsley, and the reverend gentleman set off under the care of two guides. He was hardly out of sight when the band was attacked by a party of soldiers, and for a short time there was a sharp skirmishing fire, in the course of which Mr. Moens came very near being killed by his would-be rescuers. He was forced to keep up with the bandits, however, and the whole party finally got away from the troops. Whatever plans he may have had of flight he now saw were futile. The brigands ran down the mountain like goats, while he had to carefully pick his way at every step. The robbers had eyes like cats: darkness and light, night and daytime, made but little difference to them. Their sense of hearing was so acute that the slightest rustle of leaves, the faintest sound, never escaped their notice. Men working in the fields, or mowing the grass, they could distinguish at a distance of miles, and they knew generally who they were, and to what village they belonged.
After four days of dreadful fatigue, during which the captive and his captors all suffered severely from hunger, [{120}] since the closeness of the pursuit prevented them from getting their usual supplies from the peasants, our party joined the main body of the band.
"On emerging from the trees we saw the captain and about twenty-five of his men reclining on the grass in a lovely glade, surrounded by large beach-trees, whose luxuriant branches swept the lawn. Several sheep and goats were tethered near, cropping the grass. The men, with their guns in their hands, their picturesque costumes and reclining postures, the lovely light and checkered shade of the trees, made a picture for Salvator Rosa. But I do not believe that Salvator Rosa, or any other man, ever paid a second visit to the brigands, however great his love of the picturesque might be, for no one would willingly endure brigand live after one experience of it, or place himself a second time in such a perilous situation.
"The band all arose, and looked very pleased at seeing me, for we had been separated from them since the fight on the 17th, and they were in great fear that I might have escaped, or have been rescued by the troops. I stepped forward and shook hands with the captain, for I considered it my best policy to appear cheerful and friendly with the chief of my captors. He met me cordially in a ready way, and asked me how I was. I said I was very tired and hungry, so he immediately sent one of his men off, who returned in a few minutes with a round loaf of bread, and another loaf with the inside cut out, and packed full of cold mutton cut into small pieces and cooked. I asked for salt, and was told it was salted. When cooked the meat tasted delicious to me, though it was awfully tough, for I and had not had meat since luncheon on Monday, in the temples of Paestum, four days before. I ate a quantity, and then asked for water, which was brought to me in a large leathern flask with a horn around the top, and a hole on one side serving to admit air, as the water was required for drinking. I had observed a large lump of snow suspended by a stick through its center, between two forked sticks; the water dripping from it was collected in flasks, and then drunk. There were two or three of these flasks. The captain asked me if I was satisfied. I answered 'Yes.'
"I was then told that there were two more companions for me. I was taken through a gap in the trees to the rest of the band, about seventeen in number. Here by found those who were destined to be my companions for the next three weeks. A young man about twenty-eight, with a black beard of a month's growth, dressed just like Manzo's band, who was introduced to me has Don Cice alias, Don Francesco Visconti, and one Tomasino, his cousin, a boy of fourteen years old. I shook hands with them, and condoled them on our common fate, which Don Francesco described as fearful. I was told to sit down on one side, which I did and looked around me.
"The spot seemed perfect for concealment. We were at the top of a high mountain, entirely surrounded by high trees, excepting two small gaps serving for entrances, opposite to each other. The surface of the ground was quite level. About twenty yards away, on the side opposite to where I entered, there was a quantity of snow, from which they cut the large pieces for drinking purposes. I saw five or six men bringing a fresh block, which they had just cut, and slung on a pole. It was now a little before mid-day, and they were preparing a cauldron full of pasta (a kind of macaroni), which was ready by twelve o'clock. Some was offered to me, which I accepted. One brigand proposed putting the pasta into a hollow loaf, but another brigand brought forward a deep earthenwere dish of a round shape. I thought milk would be an improvement, so I asked for some. Two men went to the goats and brought some in the few minutes. The pasta was very clean and well cooked. What with the meat and bread, and this pasta, I made an excellent dinner, and felt much better. The pasta was all devoured in a few minutes by the band, who collected round the caldaja, and dipped in spoons and fingers. I had now leisure to examine the men; they were a fine, healthy set of fellows.
"Here the two divisions of the band were united, thirty men under the command of Gaetano Manzo, and twelve under Pepino Cerino. The latter had the two prisoners, who had been taken on the 16th of April near the valley of the Giffoni, at five o'clock in the afternoon, as they were returning from arranging some affairs connected with the death of a relative.
"The smaller band had for women with them, attired like the men, with their hair cut short—at first I took them for boys; and all these displayed a greater love of jewelry then the members of men's Manzo's band. They were decked out to do me honor, and one of them wore no less than twenty-four gold rings, of various sizes and stones, on her hands at the same moment; others twenty, sixteen, ten, according to their wealth. To have but one gold chain attached to a watch was considered paltry and mean. Cerino and Manzo had bunches as thick as and arm suspended across the breasts of their waistcoats, with gorgeous brooches at each fastening. These were sewed on for security; little bunches of charms were also attached in conspicuous positions. I will now describe the uniforms of the two bands. Manzo's band had long jackets of strong brown cloth, the color of withered leaves, with large pockets of a circular shape on the two sides, and others in the breast outside; and a slit on each side gave entrance to a large pocket [{121}] that could hold anything in the back of the garment. I have seen a pair of trowsers, two shirts, three or four pounds of bread, a bit of dirty bacon, cheese, etc., pulled out one after the other when searching for some article that was missing. The waistcoats buttoned at the side, but had gilt buttons down the center for show and ornament; the larger ones were stamped with dogs' heads, birds, etc. There were two large circular pockets at the lower part of the waistcoats, in which were kept spare cartridges, balls, gunpowder, knives, etc.; and in the two smaller ones higher up, the watch in one side and percussion caps in the other. This garment was of dark blue cloth, like the trowsers, which were cut in the ordinary way.
"The uniform of Cerino's band was very similar, only that the jacket and trowsers were alike of dark blue cloth and the waistcoat of bright green, with small round silver buttons placed close together. When the jackets were new they all had attached to the collars, by buttons, capuces, or hoods, which are drawn over the head at night or when the weather is very cold, but most of them had been lost in the woods. A belt about three inches deep, divided by two partitions, to hold about fifty cartridges, completed the dress, which, when new, was very neat-looking and serviceable. Some of the cartridges were murderous missiles. Tin was soldered round a ball so as to hold the powder, which was kept in by a plug of tow. When used the tow was taken out, and, after the powder was poured down the barrel, the case was reversed, and, a lot of slugs being added, was rammed down with the tow on top. These must be very destructive at close quarters, but they generally blaze at the soldiers, and vice versâ, at such a distance, that little harm is done from the uncertain aim taken. Most of them have revolvers, kept either in the belts or the left-hand pocket of their jackets; they were secured by a silk cord round their necks, and fastened to a ring in the butt of the pistol. Some few had stilettoes, only used for human victims. Many wore ostrich feathers with turned-up wide-awakes, which gave the wearers a theatrical and absurd appearance. Gay silk handkerchiefs around their necks and collars on their cotton shirts made them look quite dandies when these were clean, which was but seldom.
"At last, tired of watching the band, I lay down and fell asleep. I slept for some hours, during which a poor sheep was dragged into the enclosure, killed, cut up, cooked in the pot, and eaten. I must have slept until near sunset, for when I awoke another sheep was being brought forward and I watched the process of killing and cutting up the poor beast. The sheep was taken in hand by two men, Generoso and Antonio generally acting as the butchers of the band. One doubled the fore legs of the sheep across the head; the other held the head back, inserting a knife into the throat and cutting the windpipe and jugular vein. It was then thrown down and left to expire. When dead, a slit was made in one of the hind legs near the feet, and an iron ramrod taken and past down the leg to the body of the animal; it was then withdrawn and the mouth of one of the men placed to the slit in the leg, and the animal was inflated as much as possible and then skinned. When the skin was separated from the legs and sides, the carcass was taken and suspended on a peg on a tree, through the tendon of the hind leg; the skin was then drawn off the back (sometimes the head was the end, but this rarely). The skin was now spread out on the ground to receive the meet, etc., when cut off the body; the inside was taken out, the entrails being drawn out carefully and cleaned; these were wound around the inside fat by two or three who were fond of this luxury—Sentonio, and Andrea the executioner, generally performing this operation. These delicacies, as they were considered, being made about four inches long and about one inch in diameter, are fried in fat or roasted on spits. It was some time before I would bring myself to eat these, but curiosity first, and hunger afterward, often caused me to eat my share, for I soon learned it was unwise to refuse anything.
"While these two men were preparing the inside, the other two were cutting up the carcass. The breast was first cut off, and then the shoulders; the sheep was then cut in half with the axe, and then the bones were laid on a stump and cut through, so that it all could be cut in small pieces. One man would hold the meat, while another would take hold of a piece with his left hand and cut with his right. As it was cut up, the pieces would be put into a large cotton handkerchief, which was spread out on the ground; the liver and lungs were cut up in the same way; the fat was then put in the caldaja, and, when this was melted, the kidneys and heart (if the latter had not been appropriated by some one) were put in, cooked, and eaten, every one helping himself by dipping his fingers in the pot. The pieces of liver were considered the prizes. All the rest of the sheep was then put in the pot at once, and after a short time the pot was taken off the fire and jerked, so as to bring the under pieces to the top.
"They liked the meat well cooked; and when once pronounced done, it was divided into as many equal portions as there were numbers present; the captives being treated as 'companions'—the term they always used in speaking of one another. I soon found that the sooner I picked up my share the better. If there was no doubt about there being plenty for all, the food was never divided. Then they dived with their hands, [{122}] whoever ate fastest coming off best. I could only eat slowly, having to cut all the meat into shreds, as it was so tough; so I always took as much as they would let me, and retired to my lair, like a dog with his bone. If I finished this before all was gone, I returned for more, it being always necessary to secure as much as possible, as one was never sure when more food would be forthcoming, and it is contrary to brigand etiquette to pocket food when eaten thus. When it was divided, I might of course do as I liked with my share, but even then it was prudent not to allow them to know that I had reserved a stock in my pocket, or I was sure to come off short on the next division taking place. The skin was now taken and stretched out to dry, and then used to sleep on."
There were five women with the band, all dressed just like the men, except that they wore corsets. Their hair was cut short, and two of them carried guns, the others being armed with revolvers. They had no share in the ransom-money, and were often beaten and otherwise ill treated by their lords. Doniella, the partner of Pepino Cerino, one of the subordinate chiefs, was a strapping young woman about nineteen years old, with a very good figure and handsome features, a pretty smile, and splendid teeth. She and her husband were prodigious gluttons, and Pepino was eventually deposed from his rank on account of his lawless appetite. Carmina, the companion of Giuseppe, was a good-natured creature, who was often kind and generous to the English prisoner. Antonina, the wife of a whole-souled rascal named Generoso di Salerno, had a thin, melancholy face, with magnificent great lotus-eyes. She was cheerful and generous, and did a great for Mr. Moens in the way of mending his clothes and sharing her food with him during the many periods when victuals were scarce. Maria and Concetta were both ugly and sulky, hardly ever spoke, and never gave away anything.