King Francis held back at first, but his uncle, the Count of Trapani,
who openly abetted the brigand partisans, drew him more and more into
collusion with them and their works. The Belgian ecclesiastic, Mgr. de
Merode, who had then an influence at the Vatican not possessed even
by Antonelli, looked, unless he was much belied, with a very kind eye
upon the new defenders of throne and altar. Efforts have been made to
represent the war as one carried on by loyal peasants. No one denies
that every peasants' war must assume, more or less, an aspect of
brigandage; nevertheless there have been righteous and patriotic
peasants' wars, such as that of the Klephts in Greece. The question
is, Whether the political brigandage in South Italy had any real
affinity with the wars of the Klephts, or even of the Carlists? And
the answer must be a negative.

The partisan chiefs in the kingdom of Naples were brigands, pure and
simple, most of whom had either been long wanted by the police, or had
already suffered in prison for their crimes. They organised their
troops on the strict principles of brigand bands, and proposed to them
the same object: pillage. 'Lieut-General' Chiavone who had a mania for
imitating Garibaldi, was the least bad among them; unlike his
prototype, he did not like being under fire, but neither did he care
to spill innocent blood. What, however, can be said for Pilone,
'commander of His Majesty's forces' on Vesuvius; for Ninco Nanco,
Bianco dei Bianchi, Tardio, Palma; for Carusso, who cut the throats of
thirteen out of fourteen labourers and told the one left to go and
tell the tale; for the brothers La Gala, who roasted and ate a priest?
It was said that no horror committed during the Indian Mutiny was here
without a parallel.

Of respectable Neapolitans who held responsible posts under the late
_regime_ not one joined the bands, but they contained French, Austrian
and Belgian officers, and one Prussian. A nephew of Mgr. de Merode,
the young Marquis de Trazegnies, was with Chiavone; the Carlist, Jose
Borjes, was with a scoundrel named Crocco. Borjes' case is a hard one.
He had been made to believe in the genuine character of the
insurrection and thought that he was giving his sword to an honourable
cause. The melancholy disillusion can be traced in the pages of a
note-book which he kept from day to day, and which fell into the hands
of the Italians when he was captured. The brief entries show a poetic
mind; he o