The Complete Autobiographical Writings of Sir Walter Scott. Walter Scott
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when his partner arose from his side, and ere he became sensible she had done so, she seized [his carabine], and discharging [it] in his bosom, ended at once his life and crimes. She finished her work by cutting off the brigand’s head, and carrying it to the principal town of the province, where she delivered it to the police, and claimed the reward attached to his head, which was paid accordingly. This female still lives, a stately, dangerous-looking woman, yet scarce ill thought of, considering the provocation.
The dog struggled extremely to get loose on hearing the shot. Some say the female shot it; others that, in its rage, it very nearly gnawed through the stout young tree to which it was tied. He was worthy of a better master.
The distant encampment of the band was disturbed by the firing of the Bizarro’s carabine at midnight. They ran through the woods to seek the captain, but finding him lifeless and headless, they became so much surprised that many of them surrendered to the government, and relinquished their trade, and the band of Bizarro, as it lived by his ingenuity, broke up by his death.
A story is told nearly as horrible as the above, respecting the cruelty of this bandit, which seems to entitle him to be called one of the most odious wretches of his name. A French officer, who had been active in the pursuit of him, fell into his hands, and was made to die [the death] of Marsyas or Saint Polycarp — that is, the period being the middle of summer, he was flayed alive, and, being smeared with honey, was exposed to all the intolerable insects of a southern sky. The corps were also informed where they might find their officer if they thought proper to send for him. As more than two days elapsed before the wretched man was found, nothing save his miserable relics could be discovered.
I do not warrant these stories, but such are told currently.
[Tour from Naples to Rome], April 16. — Having remained several months at Naples, we resolved to take a tour to Rome during the Holy Week and view the ecclesiastical shows which take place, although diminished in splendour by the Pope’s poverty. So on the 15th we set out from Naples, my children unwell. We passed through the Champ de Mars, and so on by the Terra di Lavoro, a rich and fertile country, and breakfasted at St. Agatha, a wretched place, but we had a disagreeable experience. I had purchased a travelling carriage, assured that it was English-built and all that. However, when we were half a mile on our journey, a bush started and a wheel came off, but by dint of contrivances we fought our way back to Agatha, where we had a miserable lodging and wretched dinner. The people were civil, however, and no bandits abroad, being kept in awe by the escort of the King of Westphalia, who was on his road to Naples. The wheel was effectually repaired, and at seven in the morning we started with some apprehension of suffering from crossing the very moist marshes called the Pontine Bogs, which lie between Naples and Rome. This is not the time when these exhalations are most dangerous, though they seem to be safe at no time. We remarked the celebrated Capua, which is distinguished into the new and old. The new Capua is on the banks of the river Volturno, which conducts its waters into the moats. It is still a place of some strength in modern war. The approach to the old Capua is obstructed by an ancient bridge of a singular construction, and consists of a number of massive towers half ruined. We did not pass very near to them, but the site seems very strong. We passed Sinuessa or Sessa, an ancient Greek town, situated not far from shore. The road from Naples to Capua resembles an orchard on both sides, but, alas! it runs through these infernal marshes, which there is no shunning, and which the example of many of my friends proves to be exceeding dangerous. The road, though it has the appearance of winding among hills, is in fact, on the left side, limited by the seacoast running northward. It comes into its more proper line at a celebrated sea-marsh called Cameria, concerning which the oracle said “Ne moveas Camarinam,” and the transgression of which precept brought on a pestilence. The road here is a wild pass bounded by a rocky precipice; on one hand covered with wild shrubs, flowers, and plants, and on the other by the sea. After this we came to a military position, where Murat used to quarter a body of troops and cannonade the English gunboats, which were not slow in returning the compliment. The English then garrisoned Italy and Sicily under Sir [John Stuart]. We supped at this place, half fitted up as a barrack, half as an inn. (The place is now called Terracina.) Near this a round tower is shown, termed the tomb of Cicero, which may be doubted. I ought, before quitting Terracina, to have mentioned the view of the town and castle of Gaeta from the Pass. It is a castle of great strength. I should have mentioned Aversa, remarkable for a house for insane persons, on the humane plan of not agitating their passions. After a long pilgrimage on this beastly road we fell asleep in spite of warnings to the contrary, and before we beat the reveille were within twenty miles of the city of Rome. I think I felt the effects of the bad air and damp in a very bad headache.
After a steep climb up a slippery ill-paved road Velletri received us, and accommodated us in an ancient villa or château, the original habitation of an old noble. I would have liked much to have taken a look at it; but I am tired by my ride. I fear my time for such researches is now gone. Monte Albano, a pleasant place, should also be mentioned, especially a forest of grand oaks, which leads you pretty directly into the vicinity of Rome. My son Charles had requested the favour of our friend Sir William Gell to bespeak a lodging, which, considering his bad health, was scarcely fair. My daughter had imposed the same favour, but they had omitted to give precise direction how to correspond with their friends concerning the execution of their commission. So there we were, as we had reason to think, possessed of two apartments and not knowing the [way] to any of them. We entered Rome by a gate renovated by one of the old Pontiffs, but which, I forget, and so paraded the streets by moonlight to discover, if possible, some appearance of the learned Sir William Gell or the pretty Mrs. Ashley. At length we found our old servant who guided us to the lodgings taken by Sir William Gell, where all was comfortable, a good fire included, which our fatigue and the chilliness of the night required. We dispersed as soon as we had taken some food, wine, and water.
We slept reasonably, but on the next morning
Appendix
No. II.
Letter from Mr. Carlyle referred to in vol. ii. p. 160.
EDINBURGH, 21 COMELY BANK, 13th April 1828.
SIR, — In February last I had the honour to receive a letter from Von Goethe, announcing the speedy departure, from Weimar, of a Packet for me, in which, among other valuables, should be found “two medals,” to be delivered “mit verbindlichsten Grüssen” to Sir Walter Scott. By a slow enough conveyance this Kästchen, with its medals in perfect safety, has at length yesterday come to hand, and now lays on me the enviable duty of addressing you.
Among its multifarious contents, the Weimar Box failed not to include a long letter — considerable portion of which, as it virtually belongs to yourself, you will now allow me to transcribe. Perhaps it were thriftier in me to reserve this for another occasion; but considering how seldom such a Writer obtains such a Critic, I cannot but reckon it pity that this friendly intercourse between them should be anywise delayed.
“Sehen Sie Herrn Walter Scott, so sagen Sie ihm auf das verbindlichste in meinem Namen Dank für den lieben heitern Brief, gerade in dem schönen Sinne geschrieben, dass der Mensch dem Menschen werth seyn müsse. So auch habe ich dessen Leben Napoleon’s erhalten und solches in diesen Winterabenden und Nächten von Anfang bis zu Ende mit Aufmerksamkeit durchgelesen.
“Mir war höchst bedeutend zu sehen, wie sich der erste Erzähler des Jahrhunderts einem so ungemeinen Geschäft unterzieht und uns die überwichtigen Begebenheiten, deren Zeuge zu seyn wir gezwungen wurden, in fertigem Zuge vorüberführt. Die Abtheilung durch Capitel in grosse zusammengehörige Massen giebt den verschlungenen Ereignissen die reinste Fasslichkeit, und so wird dann auch der Vortrag des Einzelnen auf das unschätzbarste deutlich und anschaulich.
“Ich las es im Original, und da wirkte es ganz eigentlich seiner Natur nach. Es ist ein patriotischer Britte der spricht, der die Handlungen des Feindes nicht wohl mit günstigen Augen ansehen kann, der als ein rechtlicher Staatsbürger zugleich