ITALY AS IT WAS. You tell me, my dear Eusebius, that you wish to deter a young friend from going to Italy; and therefore desire me to put on paper some of those disagreeable incidents, that when I told them to you some years ago, you thought, if published, would keep many a tourist of our comfortloving age, within the more decent bounds of our own counties, or the three kingdoms; though I know not, but that if decency be the measure, one of the three may be omitted. In the first place, Eusebius, I greatly admire your simplicity in imagining that incidents of difficulties, annoyances, or even danger, will deter a young friend from his proposed travel. For, suppose him to be of that extremely indiscreet age at which the law of the land thinks fit to make him his own master, the prospect of encountering them will naturally so excite his youthful spirits, his courageous energies, that he will but bid you good-bye the sooner. Try the contrary method, and tell him of all the pleasures he will have to enjoy, and the chances are that none will be to his taste, and he will grow cool. There is always a disposition in youth to kick manfully at every obstacle put in its way; how ever pleasant a toy that which you put in their way may have appeared, before they find it out to be an obstacle, then fire and fury is in them, and the very moon looks pale lest that obstacle be kicked in her very face, so high does the spirit of indignation mount; and if you repeat this, you will surely beget in them pertinacity, which, nolens volens, will make a fool of you, excuse, (dear Eusebius, the personality,) and of themselves too. You had better let them expend their illtimed and megrim-bred desires by giving them the full scope of talk, and they will subside of themselves. Hercules would never have made the choice, if Virtue had not put the difficulties before him, and you know Pleasure was sent packing. But there is proof in matter of fact, and, therefore, I give you an example. I was requested to remonstrate with a youth who had unaccountably, so his friends said, taken a whim, a fancy to enter the army, to which profession his friends had an aversion, and the youth an unfitness. It arose from their laying before him a scheme of life, it being then about the time he should finish his course at the university. They dwelt upon the country Elysium of a quiet parsonage, how easy would be his progress through the university; but unfortunately they did not stop there, but dwelt in much detail upon the dangers, disgusts, horrors, and turmoils of the several other professions, and particularly of the army. Would you believe it, the gentle youth, the amiable youth, who never had a hand to grasp a sword, a heart to shed blood, or a head for "plots and stratagems" whom nature had gifted like the cat with domesticity, and to purr out his days of quiet happiness at a parsonage hearth, with his infant cherub faces about him, copies of his own and their mother's tenderness, this lamb of men decides upon acting the tiger, and nothing will go down with him but the army. Letters of remonstrance passed in quick succession: this only made the matter worse, or rather made it what it was, a temporary fever; and in this state I was requested to remonstrate with him. But I took care to do no such thing. I talked it over with him, and, assuming that he had chosen that profession, I spoke of the glory of it, and thence gently let down the talk into the requisites for it, and questioned him, as I remembered reading that Socrates did a youth of a somewhat similar ambition. Of course, I made him prove himself consummately ignorant in all that related to war. I questioned him upon statistics and politics, and all the mysteries of strategy generally, and in particular what I could muster up or invent. I saw some considerable shame at his own ignorance, and the first interview ended, after he had shown up himself as unfit for the regular army, with a determination to join General Evans in Spain. I reported the matter to his friends-advised them to let a little while pass, and then to authorize me to let him take his choice. They did so, and my next interview with him showed that his fever was of the ague kind, and had its hot and its cold fits. I began by lamenting, on his account, that General Evans (for so it was), would return, and receive no more volunteers-but that I had great satiзfaction in assuring him, that his friends had fully acquiesced in his wishes, and that they would procure him a commission in our own army, and without doubt he would soon see military service. This was an unexpected blow to his pertinacity, for it took him in the very place where he had prepared no defence. He looked the cold fit, when he should have assumed the hot, and stammered out thanks to his friends; but that, in fact, he had made up his mind to join General Evans in his glorious career, and of course he could not exactly yet make up his mind to fight on the other side. But he would think of it, and in a short time acquaint me with his decision. I laughed in his face, exposed to him the humbug he had been practising, perhaps upon himself, and certainly upon others, and showed him so clearly that I knew all the turnings of his own mind, that in the end he laughed too, and said, with a little remaining air of humbug, that perhaps it would be better, or at least more honourable in him now, as the case stood, in his turn to acquiesce in the wishes of his friends, and that he therefore would make a sacrifice of his own desires to theirs. The rest is easily told."Cedunt arma toga." I will furnish you, Eusebius, with another example. You know my excellent friend B. He was in life a practical philosopher, and many a delightful proof of it will I, one of these days, give you, for he loved to be open in all his thoughts and actions to his friends. Well, then, he had a son in London, in employment that brought him in a moderate income, even for a single man, but he was young, and there were hopes of progressive improvement. The youth fell in love with the daughter of the woman with whom he lodged-this was a very hot fit-and of this there is almost always sure to be a cold fit, but it comes frequently too late, when the remedy taken has proved worse than the disease. The good father had ever encouraged candour, and his children were as open-hearted and minded as he was himself, so that the affair was soon communicated. And what, think you, the father did ?-oppose his son's love!-not he; he took a wiser course, entered into his schemes, made calculations for him, in the most friendly manner, of expenses, in detail the youth never thought of, by the day, by the week, by the month, by the year. And all this was done during a walk they took together, when the father said they might as well go and look for a house for him and his wife to live in. "Of course, said he, you must choose one according to our calculations; and you will not think of entertaining, or even visiting your friends A, B, C, D, &c., and I daresay you'll be very happy. Love, my dear boy, is every thing, though it be not handsomely lodged," and just then, in a narrow passage, that could neither be called street, lane, or avenue, the father suddenly stopped (not arrested by the perfumed air of Cupid's roses), in front of a low house, not remarkable for neatness, nor even cleanliness, but that the operation of the latter was going on. For there, at the door was a laborious mother washing her two dirty children, paddling at her feet, and the end of a cradle just peeped in at the back-ground. "There, now, my dear boy," said he, "the rent of just such a house would exactly suit your means." "Don't say another word about the matter," said the shamed youth, "I see it won't do." And so they went homewards, and in the way took another lodging, the cold fit being pretty strong upon him and he told me since that for a year or two, whilst he lived in really "single blessedness," he never saw a pretty face, that would otherwise have fascinated him, but he saw in the back ground of the picture, the very scene his father had pointed out to him, and then involuntarily set himself running through the catalogue of items of daily, weekly, monthly, and yearly expenses, and at such times the two following lines of the modern poet were constantly ringing in his ears "Love in a hut, with water and a crust, Is-Love, forgive us!-cinders, ashes, dust." Now, my dear, Eusebius, you will endeavour to deter your friend, the Tourist Youth, in what manner you please; but I will comply with your request as well as I can; for many years have passed since my travels, sticks, mere dots, and as it seemed over them the dim beings that could not enter the regions of fiery punishment; and I thought of a deluded people, vain prayers to saints, and priests and purgatory,-the double, scarlet kingdoms of Pope and Popery, above and below-then, by easy transition, of Italy-and as if all the vision had been a preparation, and an omen, your letter, Eusebius, was put into my hands. And is not the vision in many respects descriptive of Italy? It is a land of a golden age, of fabled deities that walked the groves, and lingered about the fountains. The land of Poetry, the brightest, ancient, and revered of noble souls, high action, and romance. But it has been sadly shaken-evil have been the changes, and worse they are. There are falsifying Eustaces," and many more than "Forty Thieves;" a population of robbers or cheats, and, to wind up all, it is the fountain-head of supersti tion, where crimes multiply, for pardon is bought for money-of blasphemy and impiety, for Popery reigns there. How like you the phillipic? I have heard more vehement from yourself, Eusebius, on the same subject. Yours has been the flash of indignant genius -mine is but a sketch from nature. and I was robbed of my notes-and all my travel now is by the fire-side, and all my speculation into it-and so was I employed when this letter of yours, with so strange a demand, reached me and had far other thoughts and imaginations than of sitting down to write an account of matters of fact, and they of times so long since gone. You, in your confabulations with me, fly off into all vagaries, and so will I, after your own fashion, tell you what waking dreams I was indulging, and what visions I saw in the hot coals, when you startled me by your pen and ink questions; and in faith I think they may not be unapt to the subject of your requests. I had looked till imagination centering sight, had subtracted all that could measure space. Fairer scenes than poets' "Fairy Land" opened to the view; illumined palaces, gardens, terraces, and glistening rocks, and myriads of star-like happy beings wandering over regions brighter, infinitely brighter, than any this world's sun ever shone upon. Then the whole shook, and as with the sudden movement of a magic glass, there was a change, but it was perfect. I beheld the enchanted land of Ariosto, figures of larger size-knights and ladies, the cliff and tower of polished steel," Experto crede Roberto." It is a and the great magician issuing from the gates, his shield uncovered. The coals again subside; they shake—instant is the change. I am inclosed in a theatre of caverns, receding into immense distances, and all illuminated as with ten thousand lamps. I was the happy Aladdin-suddenly there is a slight noise-it is the "Open Sesame!" the caverns grow darker, and in rush the "Forty Thieves." Is there no escape? The coals again shakethere is another and an awful change there is a black incrustation around a horrid gulph, all red, with caverns and abysses, from whose depth shook forked flames, visions such as Dante saw, and drew in his Inferno; and over this fiery abyss was one, a huge figure foreshortened, falling headlong into the oven of perdition, and without, dimly seen, and partly in blue light, were fiends or angels that had accompanied the condemned to the very verge, either to hurl him deeper, or to save. Another movement, and the gulf is closed, and over it were dark arches, in which were a few burning strange time, after the lapse of so many years, to call upon me for my adventures; and I am almost tempted to answer in the words of the celebrated Knife-grinder, 66 Story, God bless you, I have none to tell, sir." But I will tell you, as well as I can remember, what I found Italy in the year 18-; and since you more particularly wish me to give an account of my falling in with the banditti in Calabria, I will begin with that adventure. In Italy it would be common-place-here it may have some interest. At whatever inn you stop in Italy, you are sure to find a number of persons about it, wrapped up in brown cloaks, and half their faces hid, apparently mere idlers. These are, in in general, either robbers or emissaries of robbers, who find out all it may be requisite for the fraternity to know about travellers, particularly their time of leaving and the road they are going. It must be here observed, and the observation is to be remembered in all places during this narrative, that I It speak of Italy many years ago. Things may be now on a better footing. is to be hoped so. My friend and myself had arrived at Salerno, on our way to Pæstum, to visit the beautiful remains of ancient temples there. We had letters from a French gentleman with whom we happened to travel from Capua to Naples, to a friend resident near Salerno. We found him and another French gentleman, and his beautiful and agreeable daughter, and an Italian nobleman and his family, all resident together. I believe they were, for to us it was afterwards pretty clearly made out, under the surveillance of the police. They seemed under much restraint, perhaps fear would not be an improper term, and I have since thought they must at that time have been cognizant of, if not parties in some of the Carbonari plots, even then hatching. They were remarkably attentive to us, and did all they could to dissuade us from the attempt-recommending, if determined to go, that we should go by water. However, we still persisted, and left Salerno before dawn in a caleche, which held myself and friend, and the driver, as is customary with those carriages, was behind. We had proceeded some five or six miles, ere we came to that part of the road where most of the robberies take place, the very spot, I imagine, where Mr and Mrs Hunt were shot; and where a friend of mine, a year or two after, passing, saw a man lying across the road with his throat cut; on which occasión the driver whipped on, and could not be induced to stop. It was not light enough to allow me to give a description of the spot; and as it became lighter, I had little leisure or inclination for a survey. I perfectly recollect being in deep thought, with my eyes half closed, and my head upon my breast, shunning the cold, grey, comfortless look of the dawn, always disagreeable when the earth looks black; and, if inhabited, you could imagine the human race had retired to holes, for habitations were not distinguishable. It was after a sudden look at this discomfort, that I had again bent down my head, and in fancy was calling up the brighter vision of home far away, and anticipating the pleasure of showing my portfolio of sketches to my eager friends,-it was just at this moment the carriage stopped. I look VOL. XLV. NO. CCLXXIX. ed up, and at the same instant, there was a cry of many voices, the word I know not, but it sounded like "sdrucciate," and was quickly repeated-and at the same time I saw seven dark figures, one in front, and three on each side, and seven carbines all levelled at us in the caleche. It is very strange, but certain it is, that I felt no fear, and perfectly recollect the disagreeable sensation of rising, after long sitting in the cold, and did not make so much haste to move as the occasion required. My friend seemed equally insensible to danger, for as he alighted, in allusion to the banditti descending from the mountains, cried out to me with a facetious air, "Tantæne animis cælestibus iræ." When we were out of the carriage they crowded about us, and I think more very soon joined them. They instantly bade us strip; and as we did not show much alacrity in the operation, they hastened it, sometimes by pulling roughly at our clothes, and then making a terrific noise, and threatening us with their carbines. I had a seal attached to my watch which I greatly valued, not for its intrinsic worth, but as a family relic. This I endeavoured to conceal, and put it as quietly as I could into the carriage, but in so doing, the noise of the chain and seals was heard by one of the banditti. He came up to me, first took the watch, and then very deliberately levelled his carbine close to my head. I was just going to rush in upon him, when the captain of the gang struck down the carbine, and forbade him to do the deed. The man at once remonstrated with the captain, that I ought to be shot for the attempt at concealment, and again levelled his piece at me; the other promptly again struck down the carbine, and dragged the man away with him. This was a narrow escape. My coat, waistcoat, and pantaloons, were taken off and removed-a pair of laced boots were not so easily undone, and this delay seemed likely to produce some rough usage, but it was not so. My very shirt was taken from me, and in fact I had nothing whatever of my dress but a pair of half stockings and my hat. In this state I could not but be amused at the coolness of my friend, who, thinking my Italian, though not very good, more likely to be understood by them than his own, requested me to ask the ban E ditti for a little key of his, that belonged to a Bramah lock, and could be of no use to them. In my simplicity I did so, and was near getting rough usage for my request-one of the fellows roared at me as if he had been a beast, and handled his carbine in a manner I did not like. Perhaps my bad Italian sounded very like impudence. After this, however, I took courage, and as I felt it very cold, in as much facetiousness as might be, and very politely, I told one of them that as the weather was cold I should be extremely obliged if he would be so kind as to give me my shirt. He did so, and I was putting it on when another, probably the one who owed me a spite for not being suffered to shoot me, tore it out of my hands with the greatest vio. lence, and I never saw it more. At this time there was a great outery of lamentations not far from me, and I found that two carriages full of Italians had been stopped, and if there was not much wool there was a great cry. These were robbed, but not stripped as we were, and some of them were beaten with the butt-end of the carbines and dragged about. They were all ordered "faccia a terra," the usual proceeding of the banditti. It is thus: all immediately prostrate themselves with their faces to the ground, pretty much as I have heard of fowls being sewed with their beaks to a chalked line. I was standing among the robbers, wondering what would come next, and, having nothing that could be taken from me, not very much concerned, pretty much like the penniless viator, who whistled "coram latrone viator" when turning round I saw a long row of Italians "faccia a terra," as if pinned by their noses to the earth, and my friend, the last of the row, in a less degrading position, and modestly bending more in the attitude of the Venus de Medici, only a little more bending; and if less graceful, in somewhat better comfort, for he had contrived to put on his great-coat, which he in turn had purloined from the robbers, as he found it hanging over the wheel of the carraige. In spite of the possible, nay probable danger, I could not but fancy there was something very whimsical in my position. It did not verify the old saying, "show me your company and I will tell you what you are;" for nothing can be more opposite than the robber and the robbee. I could now well distinguish the dress of my seeming comrades; their brown cloaks and ornamented vests, well beset with murderous arms, and their peaked hats; and could distinguish and speculate upon their features, and, not seeing any strong marks of fraternity between us, and being in my undress, before such great company, I thought it best not to be too familiar, and declined the honour of their further acquaintance, and very quietly attached myself to the row by my friend's side, without being very particular about falling gracefully; but I must say that I did not shamefully put my face to the ground, and perhaps, Eusebius, did little more than many of my betters, who do not know how to stand quite upright in the presence of a great man, and I had many very great men to notice my behaviour. The operation of robbing all, and packing up their plunder, took up a very considerable time, perhaps an hour and twenty minutes, or perhaps the time appeared longer than it really was; for, independent of the disagreeable circumstance itself, the morning was cold, and an additional, or rather, a blanket was much desired. I have often wondered how it was that in a situation of such peril, when it was by no means certain any minute that I might not have a shot through me,-I say, Eusebius, that I have often wondered at the absence of what may be called fear. I reasoned upon the thing at the time, but could not make much of it. As I was stooping during the occupation of the banditti, not knowing indeed if we should be taken to the mountains, or dismissed, I may safely say that the greater part of the time was taken up by speculations as to the manner in which I should treat many of the subjects with which I had furnished my portfolio, and which, by the by, were left behind at Salerno. I studied, over and over again, all sorts of effects, and had to my own mind composed and manufactured pictures on a large scale. I have since then, on more occasions than one, been in situations of some danger, and have invariably found the same absence of what may be called fear. You know, my dear Eusebius, though I am a great discerner of things in the fire, that I am no "fire-eater," nor do I pretend to have more courage than is the common and fair proportion; I do |