self as to their truthfulness. They answered | brigands and their pursuers. Certainly the my inquires without mystery. The moun- former were not described as very wicked tain sides were habitually the hiding-places fellows, while I could not gather that it was of bands, that came, and went, and fluctuat- the impression that the French detachment ed much in numbers. The French were quartered in the monastery could boast of attacked by them on every possible occa- much success. sion, because the French harassed and worried them. But the Papal gensdarmes were left unmolested, for as their numbers were too small to take the field, they left the brigands at peace, unless they stumbled on them in some flagrant position that could not be overlooked. But this, it was ingenuously remarked, happened rarely, for the brigands systematically avoided doing anything against the inhabitants of the Papal States, and reserved their action for harrying expeditions into the Neapolitan territory. Then they brought back their booty, generally flocks, and their prisoners, whom they kept for ransoms, to the mountains, where they were freely furnished with supplies by the peasantry. On this last head no kind of doubt was thrown, and the people of Collepardo, a hamlet we passed through, were particularly mentioned as wholesale sympathizers. I was told, and this was confirmed from various sides, including French officers, that the brigands now abroad, although fewer than they were, and reduced to the status of mere depredators, without political feelings, are much better armed than formerly. They are well supplied with double-barrelled guns and revolvers. At present there are two captains in these parts Cabessi, and Fuoco, who is the most formidable. The latter, my gensdarmes said, had gone, a couple of days ago, on an expedition. If we met any brigands, they would belong therefore to Cabessi's company. Both these chiefs, however, were thought very inferior to Chiavone, who has grown here into a popular hero. Indeed myth is already springing up around him, for the peasantry believe that he has not been shot by Tristany, and that he will again appear amongst them. My gensdarmes spoke of Chiavone with evident admiration of his prowess. It was not, however, our fate on this day to see aught of Cabessi or Fuoco, and we reached after sunset the convent, where our letters secured us a most hospitable reception. At supper the sub-prior kept us company, and here, again, the conversation turned as wholly on the incidents of the brigand campaigning in these parts as it would naturally on war in a neighbourhood that was its scene. There was no mistake,- for the dwellers in these regions all interest lay centered in the vicissitudes and adventures which attended the mutual operations of the This detachment is changed every four months, and consists of half a company. I made the acquaintance of the commander, who accompanied me to the first site of the foundation of the monks, a ruined church, not above a quarter of a mile in the forest, in a wildly romantic spot. To my astonishment, he said that it would not be prudent to go further without protection, for we risked being taken unawares in an ambuscade, and then he told me the following occurrences. Five days before, two of his soldiers, carrying the correspondence for Alatri, had been seized, bound, and stripped on the very path we had come up, and were on the point of being shot when the brigands were scared by the unexpected appearance of a detachment coming up from Alatri. A fortnight before, a French priest, bent on visiting holy places, had come here with the same wish as ourselves, to go from here across to the Trappist convent of Casamari by the mountains, so as to save a round of many miles. Out of kindness, a French escort of fifteen men accompanied him for protection. Scarcely had the party reached a spot pointed out to us on the opposite side of the ravine, when the detachment found itself surrounded by a swarm of brigands, that popped up from behind the rocks and trees, and it was obliged to fall back upon the succours that hurried over from Trisulti. But, when they came, the brigands had disappeared up crags amongst which it was impossible for a handful of men to follow them. The officer affirmed that on a mountain he indicated there were then several hundred stolen head of goats and cattle brought from over the border. To recover them would require more forces thau he had. I was indeed at a loss to conceive what military purpose so small a detachment could possibly serve in this position, unless it were to watch the friars. While we were standing together, a shepherd came down from the mountain and reported to the officer the arrival in the night of a numerous band from a marauding expedition, with booty and three prisoners. The shepherd had seen and spoken with them, and gave his report in a very credible manner. As we meant to go precisely through the part where these brigands were said to be, this looked rather uncomfortable. But at dinner our friend the sub-prior treated all fear of molestation very lightly. "If you meet them, you need not be afraid; they will talk with you, and then let you pass on." And he recounted how, having visited lately a farmstead of the convent's, he saw from the window armed men hanging about suspiciously. The farmer at once calmed his alarm by saying, "It is only Cabessi; I know him; he won't do you any harm," whereupon he went out and fetched Cabessi up, who had a long gossip with the sub-prior. "You need not be alarmed therefore, my friends," were the parting words given us. "You are safely recommended; nothing will happen to you; only mind you must not be persuaded into taking any red-legs along with you." The sight of a French uniform evidently has the same effect on brigand nerves that a red cloth has on a bull. Also the officer in command observed to me that the difference between the former and present state of things was this, that whereas formerly the brigands gave the French a wide berth, they now actually seek every opportunity for falling on them at advantage. I am afraid that the sequel of my narrative will sadly disappoint any reader who may still expect to find something stirring. My alventures were of a most inoffensive kind. It is indeed a wild and rugged mountain pass we followed from Trisulti to Casamari, a tract as if made by nature for hidingplaces to defy pursuit. After toiling first down and then up the steep sides of the before-mentioned ravine, we reached the spot where the French detachment had been waylaid and beaten back. Here we found ourselves in a kind of mountain plain, quite circular in shape, and just by a dense forest, stretching up the precipitous rocks. At the end opposite to the one at which we entered the way out of this plain was through a narrow gorge. A lonely barn or two were the only signs of human habitation; one of these was on the left, at the very skirt of the forest. As we wound along, a man peering curiously was seen craning round this stone building, like a scout on the watch. Then he came forward for a moment, and the next instant vanished into the denseness of the forest. "Did you see him?" said one of my gensdarmes to the other. "Who was it?" asked I. "A vedette of the brigands," was the reply. We were at a fountain, and my companion stopped to slake his thirst, whent here appeared, where from I cannot say, but right amongst us, a swarthy-looking fellow of strange mien. He eyed us, stayed a few minutes, and vanished. My gensdarmes made an obser vation amongst themselves. Immediately afterwards a shot fell in the wood to our left, and its echo rang through the rocks, when in a few minutes the buzz and sound of hurrying voices succeeded, and were heard from knoll to knoll. It was a signal that had been given, and had been answered. We were telegraphed up to the brotherhood, and the brotherhood was content to let us pass in peace. At least we saw no more of them, and reached, as prophesied, without molestation the Trappist sanctuary of Casamari, where occurred in 1862 a regular pitched battle between Chiavone and the Italian troops, who occupied the monastery in consequence. I will not weary you with repetitions. All I heard at Casamari and other places confirmed my former impressions. The brigandage which is now afoot is contemptible as a political organization, but it is formidable as a social scourge, for it is in a condition to defy all the measures which are supposed to be meant for its suppression. I do not discuss how far brigandage is kept alive by a prevalent system of symphathizing assistance extended by the peasantry of the neighbourhood. But I maintain that the distribution of French troops in driblets of half companies and small detachments in isolated posts is perfectly useless for any active operations against the brigands in their real fastnesses their camping-grounds on the mountains. To effect anything there needs a large body of troops and combined movements. I do not say that even then it will be easy to extirpate these outlaws, but I do say that with the present system nothing whatever can be achieved, except perhaps to establish an espionage within the precincts of certain convents, and even this is probably not always complete. Such is at least my impression. One word to any one who might feel tempted to follow my steps, and visit spots too little visited by the shoal of tourists. No site will better repay the traveller, but I do not wish to have it on my conscience that I was the cause of an unfortunate countryman getting himself carried of to the mountains. I believe that it would be rash to roam about those regions without precaution. Alone, without protection and particular recommendations, I doubt our having got safe from Trisulti to Casamari, for although the brigands are shrewd enough not to molest the residents in the Pope's States as they viciously molest those over the border, they have no scruples about carrying off for ransom a stray foreigner, even though he be but an artist. If I am asked what may be the precautions that with political legitimacy. An accident had best be taken, all I can say is, that made your humble servant obtain unconto judge from personal experience, it will sciously the benefit of such a reputation, be found desirable to escape the imputation and to this I greatly attribute my having of French or English nationality, and that been able to see and hear many curious your passport will be the gainer in weight things. if you are supposed to be a sympathizer A LOOKER-ON. I praise him not; it were too late; Fed from within with all the strength he needs. And some innative weakness there must be Such was he, our Martyr-Chief, Whom late the Nation he had led, Wept with the passion of an angry grief; Nature, they say, doth dote, And cannot make a man Save on some worn-out plan, For him her Old World mould aside she threw, With stuff untainted shaped a hero new, Once more a shepherd of mankind indeed, In him who condescends to victory Such as the Present gives, and cannot wait, So always firmly he: He knew to bide his time, Still patient in his simple faith sublime, Great captains, with their guns and drums, But at last silence comes; These all are gone, and, standing like a tower, LITTELL'S LIVING AGE.-NO. 1120.-18 NOVEMBER, 1865. From the Fortnightly Review. THE BIBLIOGRAPHY OF TENNYSON. DURING the last ten years the works of Mr. Alfred Tennyson have become thoroughly classical. There seems every chance of their being read while the language and literature of this country continue. The current editions of the great living poet are in every one's hand; while comparatively few have any acquaintance with earlier versions of now re-modelled poems, or with the suppressed pieces of his first volumes. The present rarity of these editions amply explains the general ignorance of their contents. That they contain mines of nearly unexplored beauty, extracts will put beyond question. It is easier to set on record these bibliographical details now then twenty years hence. Certain it is, that no one of these will be hereafter without a due interest and value. Great poets, moreover, are proverbially careless about their poetical offspring. How much Goethe lost or forgot of what he wrote is well known. That charming little lyric of our Laureate's, Home they brought him slain with spears, has only been this year rescued for the public. We are able to date its composition from 1848-49. Does not this lead us to infer that Mr. Tennyson is, in common with his greatest predecessors, "Like wealthy men, who care not how they give?" nor, we may add, how they lose. We, his humble students, however, are not so affluent of rich thought, that we can afford to throw away the smallest crumb. It is right for the master, no doubt, to refine his work to the utmost. But we may also claim the right to keep a place for his first ideas. The process by which perfection has been reached, is full of interest and of valuable lessons; nor can we better show our respect for this great poet than by thus treating his verse, so far as our ability enables us, as the subject for serious study. In this spirit, then, we proceed without further preface or justification. But on the very threshold of our Tennysonian bibliographical inquiries, difficulty awaits us. THIRD SERIES LIVING AGE. VOL. XXXI. This volume has been so repeatedly ascribed to Mr. Alfred and Mr. Charles Tennyson, when boys of sixteen and seventeen, that it commands a fancy price in the bookmarket on that account. t Still, it ought clearly not to be reckoned in the Tennysonian series proper, although we can hardly pass it over without comment. Assuming, then, argumenti gratiâ, the correctness of the popular rumour, let us hear what the preface says: -"The following pages were written from the ages of fifteen to eighteen, not conjointly but individually, which may account for their difference of style and matter, &c. March, 1827." What, then, may be said of the contents of this volume as a whole? Our verdict must agree with what all previous probability would prepare us to expect, namely, that the poetical talent of the Laureate, already so abnormally precocious at nineteen, had barely dawned in the boyish sketches of 1827. It is only by the aiding light of our hypothesis, that we are able, after the carefullest perusal, to detect a few shadowy touches somewhat akin to the master hand. We may safely assert, that the most intense student of the Laureate might read this volume through without the faintest suspicion of its alleged authorship. pos During the first hundred pages it is sible to distinguish with tolerable confidence the poems of each brother. Hence, possibly, the pieces last in order were first in completion. We warn our readers to expect no great elucidation from our meagre extracts on the early genius of Mr. Tennyson. Here 1419. |