irnia 
 

 
 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA 
 AT LOS ANGELES
 
 THE BIVOUAC; 
 
 OE 
 
 STORIES OF THE PENINSULAR WAR. 
 
 8 7 10
 
 THE 
 
 BIVOUAC; 
 
 OR 
 
 STORIES OF 
 THE PENINSULAR WAR. 
 
 BY W. H. MAXWELL, 
 
 AUTHOR OF 
 STORIES OF WATERLOO," " WILD SPORTS OF THE WEST," &C. 
 
 IN THREE VOLUMES. 
 VOL. II. 
 
 LONDON : 
 RICHARD BENTLEY, 
 
 NEW BURLINGTON STREET. 
 
 1837. 
 
 
 .'•'■■' 
 , . » • • ■ • .... ...... 
 
 ■
 
 WHITING, BEAUFORT HOUSE, STRA>D. 
 
 • V • » 
 
 . • • • . - * • • • 
 
 ...... • ■
 
 f 
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 OF 
 
 THE SECOND VOLUME. 
 
 PAOK 
 
 The Gaud-Case 1 
 
 The Rival Armies ....... 43 
 
 Opening of the Campaign — Affair of St. Millan — the 
 Bivouac ........ 55 
 
 Vittoria 73 
 
 Mountain Combat — French Bivouac — Military Remi- 
 niscences . . . . . . . . 91 
 
 Confessions of a Gentleman who would have married 
 
 if he could. (First Confession.) . . .111 
 Night in the Pyrenees — the Murdered Sentinel — and 
 
 the Guerilla Chief ..... 157 
 
 The Guerilla Bivouac 177 
 
 A Guerilla Breakfast ..... 197 
 
 Confessions of a Guerilla ..... 209 
 The Fall of St. Sebastian ..... 241 
 
 The Storm of Badajoz w . 253 
 
 The Dead Lieutenant 289 
 
 VOL. II. 

 
 THE BIVOUAC. 
 
 THE CARD-CASE. 
 
 Bardolph. Sir John, you are so fretful, you cannot live 
 long. 
 
 King Henry IV. 
 
 Hotspur. Tell me, tell me, 
 
 How show'd his tasking ? Seem'd it in contempt? 
 
 Vernon. No, by my soul ; I never in my life, 
 
 Did hear a challenge urged more modestly. 
 
 Ibid. 
 
 Caius. Vat be you all, one, two, tree, four, come for? 
 Host. To see thee fight. 
 
 Page. Master Shallow, you have yourself been a great 
 tighter. 
 
 Merry Wives of Windsor. 
 
 VOL. II. B
 
 THE BIVOUAC. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 THE CARD-CASE. 
 
 It was soon after the affair of New Ross that 
 I obtained leave of absence from the general of 
 the district, and repaired to the metropolis. I 
 had been wounded by a rebel from a window with 
 a slug ; and though it traversed the bone with- 
 out causing any injury, yet from the eccentric 
 direction it had taken, an experienced practitioner 
 was required to discover and extract it. 
 
 Two or three days after the operation had been 
 successfully performed, I found myself able to 
 move about, and set out to visit some of my 
 acquaintances, who happened to be sojourning to
 
 4 THE CARD-CASE. 
 
 the capital. Among others there was a kinsman 
 of my mother, named Roderick O'Dogherty. 
 He resided constantly in town, occupying a small 
 house in Kildare-street, and thither I directed 
 my course. 
 
 Roderick was the youngest son of my grand- 
 uncle. He had him educated for a priest, but 
 Roderick preferred the trade of arms. Early in 
 life he entered the Austrian service, and through 
 many ups and downs of fortune, raised himself to 
 the rank of Major-general, with the reputation of 
 being a stout soidier. An unexpected succession 
 to the property of a distant relative, fortunately 
 enabled the general to retire from a profession, 
 for which wounds and bad health had nearly 
 rendered him unfit ; and with the cross of Maria 
 Theresa, a small pension, and a rich crop of 
 laurels — if his own account were true — Roderick 
 quitted Germany for his native land, and esta- 
 blished himself comfortably in the capital. Ten 
 years had passed since he had honoured Dublin 
 with his presence, and time, which ameliorates
 
 THE CARD-CASE. 5 
 
 many of the ills of life, had certainly wrought 
 no change for the better in either the health or 
 temper of my mother's kinsman, the worthy com- 
 mander. 
 
 Whether his claims rested upon reputation in 
 arms or on acquired wealth, no man exacted 
 more attention from his relations to the third and 
 fourth generation, than Roderick O'Dogherty. 
 The most constant and punctilious inquiries after 
 his health were indispensable, and the slightest 
 omission was booked in the tablets of his memory 
 against the unhappy offender. To visit him, Hea- 
 ven knows, was any thing but an agreeable duty. 
 If he happened to be gouty or rheumatic, one was 
 doomed to listen patiently to a narrative of his 
 sufferings, and the deepest sympathy expected in 
 return for this condescension on his part, in favour- 
 ing you with a detail of his afflictions. If there 
 was any abatement of his numerous maladies, the 
 unhappy visiter was martyred with interminable 
 anecdotes of the seven years' war, and the ex- 
 ploits of a Baron Puffenberg, to whom half a
 
 6 THE CARD-CASE. 
 
 century before the gallant general had been 
 aide-de-camp. 
 
 Of all Roderick's kindred, I, probably, was 
 the least assiduous in my attentions. Most of 
 them were more closely related than myself, and 
 therefore, I was not likely to figure in his last 
 will and testament. In his best humour the 
 commander was a bore, and in his ill-temper a 
 firebrand. I was not obliged, I thought, to lis- 
 ten to long stories, or submit to his irritability, 
 especially as it was more than doubtful that after 
 he had been gathered to his fathers, I should 
 find in the disposition of his effects any consider- 
 ation for the same. 
 
 On hearing that I had been wounded and was 
 n town, Roderick had despatched his valet, 
 Philip Clancy, to inquire for me at my hotel. 
 This civility on the commander's part, of course 
 demanded a suitable return — and on the morning 
 in question, the first visit I made was to my dis- 
 tinguished relative. 
 
 I knocked at the door, and his man admitted
 
 THE CARD-CASE. / 
 
 me. One of honest Philip's intelligent looks 
 told me "to prepare for squalls." " The ould 
 gentleman had the divil's night of it ! r he 
 whispered as I mounted the stairs. " There was 
 no standing him this morning, good or bad. He 
 ■was as short hi the temper as cat's hair, and 
 would fret a saint, let alone a sinner like me." 
 With this pleasant intimation, and the prospect 
 of an agreeable tete-a-tete, I was conducted to 
 the presence. 
 
 I found the commander ensconced in an easy 
 chair with his infirm foot resting on a hassock, 
 and a thick-winded pug reposing before the 
 sounder member. I looked at my distinguished 
 relative, and a crosser-looking elderly gentleman 
 a dog never barked at ! If, as it was said, the 
 Irish adventurers so frequently found in the ranks 
 of continental princes, were as dangerous to the 
 fair as formidable to their enemies, I am per- 
 suaded that Roderick was a virtuous exception. 
 He was now a little pursy man, fat enough for a 
 friar, with thin legs and small gray eyes, ready
 
 8 THE CARD-CASE. 
 
 to fire up at the slightest provocation. His nose 
 was short and up-turned, and had never been an 
 organ that a statuary would have selected for a 
 cast. Yet, stunted as it was, a Hulan, it ap- 
 peared, had fancied it for sabre practice, and by 
 a bisecting scar rendered it the more remarkable. 
 The commander was wrapped in a flannel dress- 
 ing-gown, and wore a purple velvet nightcap. 
 His hair, white as snow, was combed back into a 
 queue, and secured with an ample bow of black 
 ribbon. As a sort of moral for a soldier's use, 
 there was no weapon visible in the apartment; 
 while a crutch standing in one corner gave silent 
 intimation that the warrior's career was done. 
 
 The pug hated me ; and I, when I could manage 
 a sly kick, returned the compliment. He barked 
 at me to the best of his ability, until exhausted 
 by the exertion, he lay down again panting for 
 breath, while his worthy master bade me welcome. 
 
 " Down, Beauty — Down, I say. You are 
 so seldom here that Beauty takes you for a 
 stranger. Well — so you had that slug extracted.
 
 THE CARD-CASE. 9 
 
 Pish ! Nowadays men make a work about 
 nothing. I remember Count Schroeder got a 
 musket-bullet in the hip, at Breda, and he had 
 it out and was on horseback again the second 
 morning. Soldiers were soldiers then ! What 
 the devil were you about at Ross ? You ma- 
 naged matters prettily." 
 
 u I think we did," I replied stoutly. 
 
 '* Pish i Why did you let the rebels into 
 the town ? " 
 
 " Why — because we could not keep them out.' 
 
 " Pshaw!" he growled testily. " I tell you 
 how poor dear Puffenberg and I would have 
 managed matters. We would have laned them 
 with artillery — guns double loaded with grape 
 and canister at point-blank distance — charged 
 while the head of the column was broken, and 
 supported the cavalry with — " 
 
 " We had no artillery but a few battalion 
 pieces and a couple of old ship-guns." 
 
 " Humph !" growled the commander. " Why 
 not try cavalry ? "
 
 10 THE CARD-CASE. 
 
 " Cavalry could not act. The masses were 
 dense, the street filled with pikemen, and the 
 windows crowded with musketeers. "What im- 
 pression could cavalry make against rebels in 
 close column with pikes sixteen feet long ? " 
 
 *< Humph ! " 
 
 " It was the gallantest affair durum - the rebel- 
 lion, and old Johnson fought it noblv."' 
 
 " Humph ! Well, you dine here to-day at 
 live ? You'll meet your cousin Hector.'" 
 
 " I am unfortunately engaged." 
 
 <; Humph I Always engaged. No matter. 
 I want to talk to you to-morrow. Come to break- 
 fast. Not later than eleven. Mind that." 
 
 I assented, and promised to be punctual. 
 
 •• Hector is not pleasing me. I'm tailing fast. 
 He knows it. But if he disobliges me. and 
 thinks I have not resolution enough to cut him 
 off with a shilling — clip him close as a game- 
 cock — he don't know Roderick O'Dojrhertv. 
 VI ell, I see vou are in a hurrv, so G;ood 
 morning."
 
 THE CARD-CASE. 11 
 
 I left him, glad of escaping more of the remi- 
 niscences of Baron Puffenberg ; and as I was 
 being let out, found Hector the hope of the 
 CDogherties knocking at the door. He turned 
 with me down the street, and at once commenced 
 a detail of his sufferings, and a diatribe touching 
 his uncle's parsimony. No one was worse calcu- 
 lated to dance attendance on a peevish invalid 
 than Roderick's heir- apparent. He was a wild, 
 headstrong, mercurial character — a union of 
 opposite qualities—a mixture of good and evil, 
 and unhappily for himself, the latter predomi- 
 nated. 
 
 Hector was scarcely twenty, and one of the 
 handsomest lads I ever saw. His education was 
 imperfect and his principles lax. Had he been 
 carefully brought up, and the bad portions of his 
 disposition eradicated while a boy, he might 
 have made a valuable man. But he had been 
 spoiled by a weak mother — his vices had been 
 permitted to run riot— and at the early age of 
 twenty, Hector was a gambler and a duellist.
 
 12 THE CARD-CASE. 
 
 His means — those of the son of an embar- 
 rassed gentleman — were not flourishing ; but his 
 credit, based upon the expectancy of succeeding 
 to the property of his uncle the general, kept 
 him afloat. Nevertheless, a desperate love of 
 play placed him in eternal difficulties, and his 
 pugnacious spirit was under a constant excitement. 
 His end was what might be easily anticipated. 
 He quarrelled at a billiard-table with a gambler 
 as fiery and wayward as himself, and, as we say in 
 Connaught, was left next morning " quivering 
 on a daisy . ,1 
 
 Hector took my arm. 
 
 " Lord — I'm so glad to meet you, Pat ! You 
 have been with old square-toes. Did he blow 
 me up ? " 
 
 " Why he did hint something about clipping 
 you like a game-cock, and marking his affection 
 by the bequest of a shilling." 
 
 " Oh — the crossgrained rogue ! Pat, you 
 would pity me, if you knew half what I undergo. 
 Because he allows me a beggarly hundred a year,
 
 THE CARD-CASE. 13 
 
 every quarter's check accompanied by a groan 
 that would lead a stranger to suppose the old 
 curmudgeon was in convulsions and a torrent of 
 abuse that a pickpocket would not stand, I must 
 visit him twice a day, dine with him on mutton 
 chops, dawdle four hours over a rascally pint of 
 sherry, and listen to his d — d yarns about Puf- 
 fenberg and Schroeder, and the siege of Breda. 
 Does he suspect that I shake the elbow ? " 
 
 " Of that, Hector, I'll tell you more after 
 breakfast to-morrow. I am going to him by 
 special appointment, to hear a full detail of your 
 delinquencies." 
 
 " Do you dine with the old tiger to-day ? " 
 
 " I should be devilish sorry to interrupt vour 
 tete-a-tete. I told him I was engaged." 
 
 " Ah ! — if I dare refuse ! But one whisper 
 that I handled a cue or threw a main, and my 
 ruin was complete. I am forced to humour the 
 old salamander, though it breaks my heart. 
 Well, you will meet me at Darcy's ? We'll have 
 a grilled bone, and some sober conversation."
 
 14 THE CARD-CASE. 
 
 I declined ; but Hector was so urgent, that at 
 last I reluctantly consented. The truth was, he 
 had already embroiled me in a quarrel, and intro- 
 duced me, on one occasion, to a gaming-house 
 where I had been pretty smartly plucked. 
 
 The lieutenant burst into a loud laugh — 
 " Well said — Pat. Hang it, we never gave you 
 the credit you deserve for high morality, and anti- 
 duelling principles into the bargain." 
 
 O'Brien coloured, and replied, " Many, Lo- 
 rimer, have been misunderstood; and such has 
 been my case. Circumstances involved me in 
 some unfortunate affairs, and obtained for me a 
 character which I neither coveted nor deserved. 
 Quarrels that I never courted have been forced 
 upon me, and accident implicated me in disputes, 
 from which nothing but a visit to the field could 
 safely exonerate me as a soldier. There are 
 about me now some two or three, men by profes- 
 sion, but boys in years and experience. Hear 
 me, lads; and listen to my candid advice. Avoid 
 a duellist as a nuisance — a gambler as the devil !
 
 THE CARD-CASE. 15 
 
 The first is bad enough; but he is innocent 
 •when compared with the second. True, he may 
 involve you in a quarrel, but chance may extri- 
 cate you uninjured, or you may escape with a 
 broken bone — but from the other there is no 
 deliverance. Titled or untitled it is all the same. 
 He who "will not spare wife, children, kindred, 
 friends — will he show mercy to an acquaintance t 
 Trust me, no honour binds him. The gambler, 
 when he has you in his hand, will fleece you to 
 the last guinea. Hope nothing from his name — 
 nothing from his character. Though his lineage 
 be old as the Conqueror — though his name be 
 one that fortune enrols as foremost in her list — 
 ' the man's a man for a' that. 1 He plays, and is 
 obnoxious to plunder himself; and if he can do 
 it he plunders in return. The duellist is bad 
 enough, but—' 1 
 
 " Why, d — n it, Pat, you have fought four 
 times yourself! " 
 
 "I have, and I regret it. One unfortunate 
 affair, I lament to add, has left this hand Moody.
 
 16 THE CARD-CASE. 
 
 I have been twice as often in the field as second ; 
 and, thank God, no friend whom I accompanied 
 fell. I have, unluckily, when honourable media- 
 tion was rejected or impracticable, been neces- 
 sitated to resort to the last and worst alternative 
 the code of honour sanctions; but, believe me, 
 boys, he who is from necessity party to a duel, 
 will never experience more pleasure than when 
 he brings two brave men from the ground, unin- 
 jured in person and reputation."" 
 
 " This is a new doctrine of O'Brien's," said a 
 young subaltern. " And we are not to fight, it 
 seems ? " 
 
 O'Brien regarded the speaker sternly. 
 
 " Fielding, I have a nephew about your own 
 years, who carries the king's colours of the 52d. 
 He is the only child of a devoted mother; her 
 first thought, her last prayer, is for the safety of 
 her beloved boy. Were he insulted — mark my 
 words — and did not assert his honour, I would 
 pass him as an outcast — turn from him as a 
 leper. No, boy, the honour of a gentleman should
 
 THE CARD-CASE. 17 
 
 be his first care. The man whose courage is esta- 
 blished is very seldom called upon ; and the man 
 who will fight will rarely volunteer a quarrel. 
 Hence, the brave pass through life generally 
 unoffending others and unmolested themselves." 
 
 " How came it then, Pat, that with those 
 feelings you have been so particularly unfor- 
 tunate ?" 
 
 " Simply because I joined a regiment that was 
 miserably divided among themselves. County 
 politics were its cause — patronage was shamefully 
 abused — men of obscure birth and disreputable 
 
 character obtained commissions ; and in the 
 
 militia there were persons who should have 
 worn no epaulet, except a footman's. But why 
 waste good counsel upon idle boys ? all is lost 
 upon them ; and though speaking for the last five 
 minutes like an oracle, I might just as well have 
 been whistling jigs to a milestone. But to resume 
 my story. Fortunately for myself I was an hour 
 too late in keeping my engagement with my 
 cousin ; and when I reached Earl-street, found 
 
 VOL. II. c
 
 18 THE CARD-CASE. 
 
 Darcy's whole establishment in desperate com- 
 motion. There were in every direction the eye 
 turned to incontestable symptoms of a general 
 row • and the mortal remains of plates, dishes, 
 and decanters, were strewn about the room, thick 
 as leaves in Vallombrosa. From a waiter, who 
 had been complimented with a black eye, I 
 learned some particulars of the battle. Hector 
 had been there, and ordered supper ; sate down 
 in expectation of my arrival, and managed to kill 
 time while waiting for me by quarrelling with a 
 military party in the opposite box. Two or three 
 Connaught gentlemen espoused his cause of 
 course, it being the wrong one, and a desperate 
 onslaught was the consequence. In the melee 
 D'Arcy's goods and chattels were demolished — 
 challenges given and accepted — cards inter- 
 changed by the pack — the watch called in — and 
 my excellent cousin borne off in triumph, after 
 performing prodigies of valour by maiming 
 divers of the king's subjects. Having secretly 
 returned thanks to Heaven for my lucky escape, I
 
 THE CARD-CASE. 19 
 
 directed my steps to the watchhouse to visit my 
 afflicted kinsman. 
 
 I reached the place, and thinking it prudent 
 to reconnoitre before I made my entree, I peeped 
 slily over the hatch. There was Hector, with sun- 
 dry other malefactors, in " durance vile." By a 
 stranger my cousin might have been readily mis- 
 taken for the commander of the garrison, he ap- 
 peared so perfectly at home, and exercised such 
 absolute authority. The constable of the night 
 and Roderick's heir presumptive were seated in 
 close conclave in a corner, and from their position 
 being contiguous to the door, I could overhear the 
 whole colloquy. Dogberry was remonstrating. 
 
 " Arrah, Hecthur astore.* Arrah, now it's too 
 bad — the third night this week. Have ye no 
 conscience, man, in tattering that unfortunate 
 tailor out of bed. Upon my sowl, he has a 
 cough that would scar ye. He's a wakely divil ; 
 and as his wife said the last night, if ye'll drag 
 
 * Angiice, Hector darling.
 
 20 THE CARD-CASE. 
 
 him out of his warm bed, ye'll have his life to 
 answer for." 
 
 " Pshaw ! " ejaculated the prisoner. " He 
 charges for all in the account. I never knock 
 him up for bail but he lays it thick upon the next 
 order. Send for him, Brady ; get in as much 
 porter and whiskey as will make all drunk, and 
 we'll sit down comfortably at the fire." 
 
 " Make way for Mistur O'Dogherty," roared 
 divers of the body-guard. " Get up, you in the 
 corner there. Arrah ! get out of the way ; the 
 gentleman's a regular customer, and we don't see 
 you above twice in the twelvemonth." The seat 
 of honour was directly vacated by the minor 
 delinquent, and my excellent kinsman ceremo- 
 niously inducted thereunto. 
 
 From an imperfect view it struck me that 
 Hector's person had not suffered material damage ; 
 but his disordered appearance, and clothes torn to 
 ribbons, clearly proved that the affair though short 
 had been both sharp and spirited. Perceiving 
 that my interference was unnecessar) , I thought
 
 THE CARD-CASE. 21 
 
 it no hour for salutations and quickly retreated 
 to " mine inn," leaving the task of Hector's deli- 
 verance to the worthy artist, who, as it would 
 appear, was ray cousin's " standing bail." 
 
 Next day I repaired to Kildare-street in due 
 time ; and it was lucky that I was so regular, 
 for Phil made a most alarming report. Over- 
 night the gout had seized upon Roderick's better 
 member ; he was in considerable pain, and as 
 Clancy said, " the priest himself darn't go near 
 him." To add to the misfortune, several gen- 
 tlemen had called early in the morning, stated 
 their business to be urgent, and could scarcely be 
 restrained by the valet from invading the sacred 
 precincts of the commander's bedroom. Thus 
 Roderick had been disturbed before his time, was 
 consequently in most abominable temper, and I, 
 alas ! should in all likelihood be obliged to bear 
 the first burst of gout and irritability. 
 
 I found him in company with his pug — par 
 nobih — Ireland could not match them. Roderick 
 was ready for battle ; and though it was not five
 
 22 THE CARD-CASE. 
 
 minutes past eleven, lie rated me for the delay. 
 Breakfast passed, and the General commenced : 
 
 " I had an infernal night of it— gout in the 
 knee first; then moved to the ankle; lame in both 
 legs ; no sleep ; could have dozed a little in the 
 morning, when three scoundrels, with knocks that 
 I thought would have demolished the door, dis- 
 turbed me. Well they did not break into my 
 bedroom ! Private business forsooth. I'm pes- 
 tered with fellows of their kind ; force their way 
 up under false pretences, all for one purpose — 
 begging — begging. I have found Aladdin's 
 lamp, I suppose. All — priests and parsons — all 
 ring to the same tune — money, money. ' No 
 family — blest with independence,' and other cant 
 to effect one's spoliation. Hish ! what a twinge ! 
 D — n it, you never had the gout, and have no 
 more feeling for me than if T was a glandered 
 horse ! " 
 
 I assured him of my deep sympathy ; but I 
 suspect the terms I expressed it in were not over 
 ardent.
 
 THE CARD-CASE. 23 
 
 a 
 
 Humph ! " he growled. " All words — mere 
 words of course. But, regarding Hector — I hear 
 he is dissipated — drinks — brawls — plays. I want 
 you to ascertain the truth, and give me quiet 
 and confidential information of his general pro- 
 ceedings." 
 
 I fired at the proposition, and losing all dread 
 of the commander boldly renounced the com- 
 mission. 
 
 " Why, sir, what the devil do you take me 
 for? I turn spy upon my kinsman ! By heaven! 
 if a stranger proposed such an employment, he 
 should dearly repent that he offered such an 
 indignity." 
 
 The commander felt the rebuke, and began 
 muttering what he intended as a qualification. 
 
 " No j Pat — no. D — n it, I did not mean 
 that you should be a spy ; but — but — " 
 
 " But, sir, yours was a proposition which no 
 gentleman could listen to ; and I wish you a good 
 morning." 
 
 " Stop, I say — stop ! " The hall-bell rang
 
 24 THE CARD-CASE. 
 
 violently. " Confound it ! the hotness of young 
 men's tempers is nowadays intolerable. This is 
 I suppose one of these damned visiters ; but if I 
 don't despatch him in double quick, my name's 
 not Roderick ! " 
 
 The commander was right in his supposition. 
 Clancy announced the stranger as one of the 
 sleep-breakers ; handed in a card, on which was 
 engraved, " Mr. Allevn, 40th Regiment ; n and 
 next moment the gentleman was ushered in. 
 
 He was quite a lad, and also a very young 
 soldier ; for whether it was the importance of his 
 embassy, or the vinegar aspect of the comrade of 
 Baron Puffenberg that abashed him I know not, 
 but he coloured up to the eyes, and seemed to be 
 in evident confusion. I pointed to a chair — a 
 civility which Roderick had omitted; and the 
 following colloquy ensued : 
 
 "You are General O'Dogherty ? " said the 
 stranger as he referred to a visiting-ticket in his 
 hand. 
 
 *' Yes, sir, I have that honour ; and you, sir,
 
 THE CARD-CASE. 25 
 
 are Mr. Alleyn ? " and the surly commander 
 examined the young man's card. 
 
 " Yes, sir, my name is Alleyn ; and, sir — 
 hem — it has given me pain, to be obliged — hem 
 — to call on you — for — " 
 
 " Sir — I understand you — I am a plain man, 
 and hate long speeches. In a word, sir, you 
 might have spared your call ; it will procure you 
 nothing from me." 
 
 " This is very strange, sir — your character — " 
 
 " Pish ! sir. I don't care a fig what any man 
 says — and to cut short the interview, you may be 
 off and try some other fool." 
 
 " Sir — this is unaccountable ! I am not ex- 
 perienced in such matters, and confess I am 
 rather embarrassed — " 
 
 " No doubt, sir, a common consequence of 
 imprudence. I am busy, sir, and you intrude." 
 
 The young man reddened to the ears. 
 
 " Sir, this won't do. If you think to bully, 
 you are mistaken. I insist on an immediate ex- 
 planation."
 
 26 THE CARD-CASE. 
 
 " Why, zounds ! Do you threaten me in 
 my own house ? I suppose you intend commit- 
 ting a burglary. Here, Clancy, show him the 
 door." 
 
 " You shall hear me, sir ! I have claims upon 
 you that must be satisfied before I leave this." 
 
 " Why, you audacious scoundrel ! Go for a 
 peace officer, Clancy. Ill have you settled." 
 
 " Ah ! I understand you ; and it is time to 
 leave you, sir, when you resort to the police. 
 But let me say, that your conduct is ungentle- 
 manly, and your meanness disgraceful to the 
 profession you dishonour. 11 
 
 Roderick seized upon the nearest weapon of 
 offence, the crutch, while Clancy by bodily 
 force fairly ejected the visiter. He was expelled 
 with great reluctance, and departed from the 
 house vowing vengeance against the commander. 
 
 Roderick was nearly suffocated with fat and 
 passion. He growled like a worried bear ; while 
 smart twinges of his disorder, accelerated no doubt 
 by recent irritation, came faster and fiercer on.
 
 THE CARD-CASE. 27 
 
 " I wish I knew where the scoundrel could be 
 found, I would indict him. I would, by every- 
 thing litigious, for attempting to obtain money 
 by intimidation. Hish ! — my toe — my toe! 
 The villain — to fancy that I was to be bullied. 
 Hish ! — Hish ! Another fit brought on." 
 
 He continued grumbling and groaning for 
 a quarter of an hour, until the malady abated, 
 and his violent excitement had exhausted itself. 
 Once more I rose to take my departure, when 
 another thundering summons was heard at the 
 hall-door — another card introduced — and imme- 
 diately after, " Captain Coolaghan of the South 
 Cork" was ushered into the presence of the ex- 
 general. He too, as Phil Clancy mentioned in 
 a whisper, was one of the sleep-breakers. 
 
 If the former visiter had evinced some diffi- 
 dence in the opening of the interview, there was 
 no indication of any tendency to blushing on the 
 part of Captain Coolaghan of the South Cork. 
 I examined his figure hastily — for it was rather 
 remarkable. In age he was above fifty ; in height, 
 I should say, approaching to seven feet. His
 
 28 THE CARD- CASE. 
 
 shoulders were broad — his legs thin — while his 
 whole appearance had what the Irish call " a 
 shuck look," and told plainly that the 
 visiter had never considered abstinence and 
 water-drinking necessary for his soul's weal. Ts T o 
 man could be better satisfied with himself, or 
 deemed his place in society less equivocal. He 
 entered Roderick's ' c great chamber" with a smile, 
 nodded graciously to us both, established himself 
 in a chair, produced a silver snuffbox of immense 
 capacity, took a deep pinch, and then protruding 
 his long chin sundry inches beyond his black 
 stock, politely inquired, " which of the gintle- 
 men was the gincral ? " 
 
 A more infelicitous opening to an interview 
 could not have been conceived. That there could 
 be any doubt of his identity, or that the imprint 
 of his former glory was not stamped upon his 
 exterior, was death to Roderick; and quickly did 
 he remove the stranger's uncertainty. 
 
 " /, sir !" He exclaimed testily. " / am 
 Major-general O'Dogherty." 
 
 " Then, sir," responded the visiter, " I am
 
 THE CARD-CASE. 29 
 
 proud of the pleasure of making your acquaint- 
 ance. Your friend, I presume ?" and he bowed 
 graciously to me. 
 
 " Yes, sir ; and here with me on particular 
 business." 
 
 "I comprehend — all right;'" and Captain 
 Coolaghan closed his left eye knowingly. " We 
 may proceed to business then at once ; and faith, 
 when a man kicks up a dust and gets into 
 scrapes, why the sooner the thing's settled the 
 better." 
 
 " Kicks up a dust — gets into scrapes ! Why, 
 sir, what the devil do you mean?" exclaimed 
 the friend of Puffenberg, as he looked daggers 
 at his new acquaintance of the South Cork. 
 
 " Why then, indeed, general, your treatment 
 of my young friend of the 40th, was not the 
 civilest in the world. But come, come — when 
 men grow ould they always get cranky. We 
 ought to make allowances. God knows, neither 
 you nor I, when we come to his years, will be 
 able to kick up such a rookawn ; " * and he smiled 
 * Anglice, scene of confusion.
 
 30 THE CARD-CASE. 
 
 and nodded at me ; while Roderick, who was 
 making himself up for mischief, impatiently ex- 
 claimed in a voice almost smothered by passion — 
 
 " Who the devil are you ? What do you 
 mean ? What do you want ? " 
 
 " Faith, and I can answer you all. My name, 
 Charles Coolaghan, of the South Cork — my 
 maning, that you insulted my friend ; and my 
 business, a written apology. But come, we 
 won't be too hard — We'll try and plaister it up 
 without burning powder. Say ye were drunk. 
 Do what my young friend asks, and there will 
 be no more about it." 
 
 Roderick who had with great difficulty waited 
 for the close of the ambassador's address, now 
 awfully exploded. 
 
 " Captain Coolaghan, sir. There is one thing 
 I regret." 
 
 " Arrah, stop general. It must be on paper — 
 just for the sake of form. We won't publish it. 
 We won't upon my honour." 
 
 " Blood and thunder ! Hear me, sir. What I
 
 THE CARD-CASE. 31 
 
 regret is, that I did not knock out the scoundrel's 
 brains ; and if your business is in any way con- 
 nected with him, I beg, sir, you'll oblige me 
 with your absence." 
 
 " Well, upon my conscience," returned he of 
 the South Cork, "a more unchristian kind of 
 an ould gintleman I never talked to ! You — 
 with one foot in the grave — arrah, for the sake 
 of your poor sowl, you ought to make atonement. 
 Come, give us what we want — write the apology 
 — say you were drunk — and — " 
 
 " Why you infernal scoundrel ! " Up jumped 
 the captain — up rose the general — I flung my- 
 self between them. Coolaghan had seized his 
 cane — Roderick grasped his crutch — while Phil 
 Clancy, hearing the fresh uproar, rushed into 
 the room, and was directed by his master to 
 exclude the visiter, and that too, if necessary, 
 vi et armis. The captain slowly retired, notify- 
 ing his wrath as he departed. 
 
 " Ye ould firebrand — sure gout and age should 
 have taken the divil out of ye before this. Kill- 
 ing waiters — murdering a whole company — and
 
 o- 
 
 2 THE CARD-CASE. 
 
 when gintlemen smd for satisfaction, nothing but 
 the grossest abuse ! But I'll have ye out. Troth 
 I'll parade ye on the fifteen acres; ay, if you 
 come hopping there upon that wooden prop ; — or 
 if ye don't, I'll post ye over Ireland — ye cantan- 
 kerous — ould — desperate — " 
 
 The rest was lost in his descent of the staircase ; 
 but the terrific slam of the hall-door told plainly 
 enough, that Captain Ccolaghan of the South 
 Cork had " exited " in a rage. 
 
 " Pat," said the commander, as he endea- 
 voured to recover breath, " bring me my 
 pistols. If any more of these ruffians come, I'll 
 shoot them though I hang for it. Holy Mary ! " 
 and he crossed himself devoutly. " What sins 
 have I committed, that a poor, quiet, easy-tem- 
 pered old man can't in his last days, his own 
 house, and a land of liberty, remain in his 
 afflictions, without being tortured by a gang of 
 villains, who first beg, then try robbery, and if 
 you don't submit to plunder, coolly propose your 
 assassination ?" 
 
 A thundering rap interrupted the jeremiade
 
 THE CARD-CASE. 33 
 
 of the unfortunate commander. Up ran Phil 
 Clancy pale as a ghost. 
 
 " Another of them divils, that was here this 
 morning, 1, quoth the valet. 
 
 " Let him up" — replied the general, while 
 his brows contracted, and his look bespoke des- 
 perate determination. " Let him up. If I miss 
 him with the crutch, do you, Pat, knock him 
 down with the poker." And Puffenberg's con- 
 federate prepared for action, and I to witness the 
 termination of a scene, that at present was 
 strange and inexplicable. 
 
 The door opened — a very fashionable-looking 
 dragoon presented himself — inquired "if General 
 O'Dogherty was at home ?" and on being answer- 
 ed in the affirmative, begged to have " Captain 
 Hay of the Fifteenth" announced as having called. 
 Roderick, with more politeness than I expected, 
 after his recent visitations, struck with the 
 superior manner and address of the new comer, 
 requested him to take a chair, and then intimated 
 that the general was present. The dragoon 
 
 VOL. II. d
 
 34 THE CARD-CASE. 
 
 looked rather sceptically at the commander, and 
 then turned his eyes on me. 
 
 " Really, gentlemen," he said, " I feel myself 
 a little puzzled. You, sir," as he addressed me, 
 u seem far too young to have attained that 
 honourable standing in the army. And you, sir," 
 and he turned to Roderick, " much too infirm 
 for the extraordinary exertions which last night's 
 affair at Darcy's must have required ' 
 
 The commander stared — while a faint and 
 glimmering notion of the business flashed across 
 my mind. Of course I kept my suspicions to 
 myself, and the general testily, but politely, en- 
 treated the captain of cavalry to be more explicit. 
 
 " May I inquire, in the first place, which is 
 the general ? M 
 
 The commander, with great dignity, announced 
 himself to be the real Simon Pure. 
 
 " There must be a palpable mistake in the 
 whole business ;" and the light dragoon laughed. 
 tl May I ask, without intending the slightest dis- 
 respect, if you supped at Darcy's last night ?"
 
 THE CARD-CASE. 35 
 
 " Supped at the devil ! " exclaimed the ad- 
 mirer of Baron Puffenberg. " Sir, I beg your 
 pardon. Excuse my being irritable. Bad gout, 
 sir. Saints would swear under half the provoca- 
 tion I have endured since daybreak. You'll 
 forgive me ?" 
 
 The captain smiled and bowed. 
 
 " My dear sir," continued Roderick, " I have 
 not been out of my house these three months. 11 
 
 "Then," said the dragoon, "my conjectures 
 are correct ; and it is impossible that you could 
 be the gentleman who knocked down Captain 
 Edwards, blackened Mr. Hey wood's eye, and 
 broke the waiter's arm with a chair.' 1 
 
 My worthy kinsman repeated the charges cate- 
 gorically in a tone of voice so ludicrous, that 
 neither Captain Hay nor I could refrain from 
 laughing ; and then added, 
 
 " Really, sir, I am astonished, and at a loss 
 to know why such inquiry should be made of 
 
 me." 
 
 " The simplest reply, sir." returned the dra- 
 
 d2
 
 36' THE CARD-CASE. 
 
 goon, " will be given in the Hibernian style, by 
 asking another question. Pray, sir, is this card 
 yours? 1 ' and he handed one to the friend of 
 Puffenberg. 
 
 The general rubbed the glasses of his spec- 
 tacles, and examined the ticket attentively ; and 
 then with a look of unqualified surprise replied, 
 
 " It is mine — mine beyond a question ! " 
 
 " Some one then has used your name and 
 address with great freedom," observed Captain 
 Hay. 
 
 " That person, if my suspicions be correct, 
 shall rue his freedom dearly ; " and the old man 
 knit his brows, and desired me to ring for Clancy. 
 He came ; and the commander asked for his card- 
 case. It was brought, and opened. Ko ticket of 
 his was to be found; for those within were in- 
 scribed with Hector's name and residence. Con- 
 viction rested on the general's mind, and Clancy, 
 ignorant of the consequences, sealed my cousin's 
 fate. " Mr. Hector," he said, " had been fiddling 
 with the case." Such, indeed, was the fact.
 
 THE CARD-CASE. 37 
 
 The unlucky youth, struck with the similarity 
 between his uncle's and his own, had been exa- 
 mining the cases, put the wrong one in his pocket, 
 and in the confusion of the preceding evening 
 had flung those of Baron Puffenberg's contem- 
 porary to his antagonists, and never discovered 
 the mistake until the blunder had cost him an 
 inheritance. 
 
 As to the quarrel at Darcy's — as well as I can 
 now remember the wind up — it terminated in 
 Capt. Coolaghan losing a finger and Hector a new 
 hat — while one of the Connaught gentlemen, who 
 had so handsomely volunteered his services on 
 that fatal evening, was duly cased in lead and 
 transmitted to the abbey of Burashool, there to 
 
 repose in peace with a long and distinguished 
 ancestry. 
 
 While these important events were being trans- 
 acted, Roderick was no idler. For a fortnight 
 he was denied to his acquaintances, and as Phil 
 Clancy whispered, "was writing continually ;" for, 
 as it subsequently appeared, he was engaged in
 
 38 THE CARD-CASE. 
 
 altering his will, and cutting off his unlucky- 
 nephew with a shilling, which he had the bar- 
 barity to have regularly tendered to him by 
 his attorney. But the poor lad did not live 
 to feel the effects of an uncle's wrath, pro- 
 duced by his own imprudence. He quarrelled at 
 a hazard-table with a ruffian ; he and his anta- 
 gonist were men of a similar stamp — both were 
 blacklegs, and both bullies — they adjourned of 
 course to the field — and Hector fell. 
 
 I have only to add, that the friend and admirer 
 of Baron Puffenberg, even after death, contrived 
 to keep all his relatives in feuds and litigation. 
 He left a most voluminous and unintelligible will; 
 and in it bequeathed his property to three old 
 maids, two grand-nephews, a cousin, and a priest ; 
 with a sum to found a friary, and a large bequest 
 to form a fund for supplying masses for the repose 
 of his soul. Me, he cut off one morning that I 
 had unwittingly displeased him, with a legacy of 
 one thousand pounds — a donation for which he 
 expressly provided, and which, as it turned out,
 
 THE CARD-CASE. 39 
 
 was the only legacy paid. For so confused and 
 contradictory were the remainder, and so inge- 
 niously did one provision nullify the next one, 
 that of course the property was thrown into 
 chancery, and there it continues to this day. 
 
 If Roderick's deliverance from purgatory de- 
 pended on the payment of the mass fund, all T 
 can say is ; that there he lies, snug and warm !"
 
 THE RIVAL ARMIES. 
 
 By heaven ! it is a splendid sight to see, 
 For one who hath no friend, no brother there, 
 Their rival scarfs of mixed embroidery, 
 Their various arms that glitter in the air! 
 
 vP ^p ^P ^ ^ # 
 
 Three hosts combine to offer sacrifice ; 
 Three tongues prefer strange orisons on high ; 
 Three gaudy standards flout the pale blue skies ; 
 The shouts are — France, Spain, Albion, Victory ! 
 
 CHILDE HAKOLn.
 
 43 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 THE RIVAL ARMIES. 
 
 A month had passed away, and O'Connor was 
 in another land. The embarkation at Ports- 
 mouth of a large reinforcement for the several 
 battalions of his regiment, cantoned on the banks 
 of the Douro, was promptly effected. The wind 
 was favourable ; and as it blew half a gale from 
 the time they cleared the Channel, the transports 
 anchored in the Tagus on the sixtii evening 
 from that on which they had lost sight of the 
 chalk-cliffs of Britain. 
 
 A new scene had opened on O'Connor. The 
 bustle of an approaching campaign occupied his
 
 44 THE RIVAL ARMIES. 
 
 thoughts ; and, in martial preparation, he strove 
 to forget the disappointment his rejection by- 
 Mary Howard had occasioned. 
 
 Nothing could equal the enthusiastic ardour 
 with which the British soldiery looked forward 
 to the recommencement of active operations ; 
 nothing could surpass their high discipline ; and the 
 organization of the army was complete. During 
 the period they had remained in winter canton- 
 ments, every arm of the force had been perfected, 
 and the materiel of the English army was mag- 
 nificent. Powerful reinforcements, including the 
 life and horse guards, had joined; and Lord 
 Wellington crossed the Douro with nineteen 
 regiments of cavalry, splendidly equipped and 
 mounted. The infantry, recruited from the corps 
 at home and volunteers from the militias, were 
 vigorous and effective ; the artillery was powerful 
 and complete in every requisite for the field ; 
 while an experienced commissariat and well-regu- 
 lated means of transport, facilitated the operations 
 of the most perfect and serviceable force with
 
 THE RIVAL ARMIES. 45 
 
 which, since the days of Marlborough, a British 
 general had opened a campaign. 
 
 Never did a commander take the field under 
 more "glorious auspices. Supported by nu- 
 merous bodies of native troops, and assisted by 
 the most daring of the guerilla leaders, Wellington 
 broke up from his cantonments with summer 
 before him, and a rich and luxurious country 
 through which to direct his line of march. His 
 troops were flushed with victory — his opponents 
 depressed from constant discomfiture. The open- 
 ing movements indicated this feeling strongly. 
 The French were already retrograding; the 
 British preparing to advance. No wonder then 
 the brilliant hopes of that splendid army were 
 fully realized ; and the glorious career of English 
 conquest almost continued without a check, until 
 the fields of France saw its banners float in 
 victory ; and the last struggles at Ortez and 
 Toulouse attest the invincibility of Wellington ! 
 
 While the British were preparing to march, 
 the army of the centre, under Joseph Bonaparte,
 
 46 THE RIVAL ARMIES. 
 
 followed by those of " the South," and " Por- 
 tugal," retired slowly on the Ebro. As they 
 were not pressed by the British light troops, the 
 French corps moved leisurely along their rout, 
 accompanied by an immense train of equipages 
 and baggage. The appearance of the whole army 
 was picturesque and imposing, from the gaiety 
 of its equipment and the variety of its costume. 
 Excepting the infantry of the line and the light 
 battalions, few of the French regiments were 
 similarly dressed. The horse artillery wore uni- 
 forms of light blue, braided with black lace ; the 
 heavy cavalry were arrayed in green coats, with 
 brass helmets. The chasseurs and hussars, 
 mounted on slight but active horses, were variously 
 and showily equipped. The gendarmerie a. 
 cheval — a picked body, chosen from the cavalry 
 in general, had long blue frocks, with buff belts 
 and cocked hats — while the elite of the dragoon 
 regiments, selected for their superior size and 
 height, wore bearskin caps, and presented a fierce 
 and martial appearance.
 
 THE RIVAL ARMIES. 47 
 
 The regiments of the line had each their 
 grenadier and voltigenr company ; and even the 
 light corps were provided with a company of the 
 former. The appearance of the whole force was 
 soldierly and effective — the cavalry was indeed su- 
 perb — the artillery excellent, their caissons, guns, 
 and harness in excellent order, and the horses in 
 the highest condition. 
 
 Though the rival armies were in discipline and 
 efficiency to all appearance perfect, a practised 
 soldier would remark a striking dissimilarity in 
 the materiel of their respective equipment. Every 
 thing attached to the British was simple, compact, 
 and limited as far as its being serviceable would 
 admit ; while the French corps was encumbered in 
 its march with useless equipages, and burdened 
 with accumulated plunder. That portion of the 
 Spanish noblesse which had acknowledged the 
 usurper now accompanied his retreat — state 
 functionaries in court dresses and embroidery 
 mingled with the troops — calashes with wives 
 and mistresses moved between brigades of guns —
 
 48 THE RIVAL ARMIES. 
 
 while nuns from Castile, and ladies from Anda- 
 lusia, mounted on horseback and attired en mill- 
 taire, deserted convent and castle, to follow the 
 fortunes of some " bold dragoon." Never was 
 an army, save that of Moscow, so overloaded 
 with spoil and baggage, as that of Joseph Bona- 
 parte with which he retired upon Vittoria. 
 
 Though the circumstance had neither escaped 
 the observation or animadversion of its officers, 
 the retreating columns as yet had experienced 
 but little difficulty in transporting the unwieldy 
 ambulances which contained more spoil than 
 trophies. Looking upon Spain as a hostile 
 country, the means necessary to forward their 
 convoys were unscrupulously seized, and every 
 horse and mule was considered to be the property 
 of the finder. The roads were good — the retreat 
 unmolested. Even on the 16th no enemy had 
 appeared; and to all appearance the allies re- 
 mained quietly in their cantonments. The apathy 
 of the English general was extraordinary, and
 
 THE RIVAL ARMIES. 49 
 
 many a prisoner was tauntingly asked by his 
 French escort, " was Lord Wellington asleep ?" 
 
 Nothing, indeed, could equal the astonishment 
 of the usurper, when informed on the evening of 
 the 18th, that the allies were in considerable force 
 on the left bank of the Ebro ! All the French 
 arrangements were overthrown, and an instant 
 night-march was rendered unavoidable. The drums 
 beat to arms — the baggage was hastily put in 
 motion — and the whole army which had been col- 
 lected in Pancorbo, or bivouacked in its immediate 
 vicinity, denied towards the city of Vittoria. 
 
 The point on which the corps of Joseph Bona- 
 parte had concentrated, is situated on the great 
 road leading from Burgos to Bayonne. It is 
 defended by a strong fort placed on a command- 
 ing eminence, which the French occupied with 
 a regiment. A narrow valley, surrounded by 
 rocky heights and crossed by a mountain torrent, 
 affords barely space for the road which traverses 
 it ; and the scenery was singularly contrasted with 
 the rich country the retreating army had just 
 
 VOL. II. £
 
 50 THE RIVAL ARMIES. 
 
 abandoned, for nothing could be more savage, 
 rugged, and uncultivated. 
 
 Vittoria, on which the French fell back, is in 
 picturesque situation second to no city in Spain. 
 Placed on a gentle eminence, a level champaign 
 country immediately surrounds it, encircled in 
 the distance by a mountain ridge, On the north- 
 west, the Zadorra is crossed by several bridges ; 
 while on the other side, a bold and commanding 
 chain of heights overhangs the road leading to 
 Pampeluna. Across the valley, which there be- 
 comes gradually enlarged, are the villages of 
 Gamarra Major and Abechaca, while the beauti- 
 ful river ranges over a fine and cultivated scene, 
 giving to the environs of Vittoria a rich yet 
 romantic character. 
 
 There, after a harassing march of thirty miles, 
 the army of the South halted on the evening of 
 the 19th. A more confused and crowded place 
 could not be imagined, and it displayed a strange 
 medley of magnificence and discomfort. Earlier 
 in the evening, the court of Joseph, his staft and
 
 THE RIVAL ARMIES. 51 
 
 guards, the head quarters of " the centre," 
 convoys and equipages, cavalry and artillery 
 occupied the buildings, and crowded the streets ; 
 while every hour increased the confusion, as 
 portions of the executive and military depart- 
 ments flocked in, and formed an embarrassing 
 addition to an unmanageable mass of soldiers 
 and civilians, already far too numerous to find 
 accommodation in a town unequal to shelter half 
 that number which occupied it now. 
 
 But yet a stranger scene was enacting at Vit- 
 toria. While the city was brilliantly illuminated 
 in honour of the visit of the king, and a gayer 
 sight could not be fancied than its sparkling 
 interior presented, beyond the walls an army was 
 taking its position, and a multitude of wretched 
 serfs were employed at the point of the bay- 
 onet, in throwing up field defences, and assisting 
 those who ruled them with an iron hand, to place 
 their guns in battery, and make the other military 
 dispositions to repel the very force that had 
 come for their deliverance. 
 
 e2
 
 OPENING OF THE CAMPAIGN— AFFAIR OF 
 ST. MILLAN— THE BIVOUAC. 
 
 Perish the man whose mind is backward now ! 
 
 King Henky V.
 
 55 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 OPENING OF THE CAMPAIGN— AFFAIR OF 
 ST. MILLAN— THE BIVOUAC. 
 
 No movement of the Peninsular campaign 
 brings to the retired soldier more interesting 
 reminiscences, than the rapid advance of the 
 British army, from the time it crossed the Douro 
 on the 1st of June until it halted on the even- 
 ing of the 19th on the banks of the Bayas. 
 
 By the able manoeuvring of Lord Wellington, 
 Joseph Bonaparte had been obliged to abandon 
 his line of communication with the capital, and 
 fall back on Burgos to concentrate. Contrary 
 to the expectation of the French their retreat
 
 56 OPENING OF THE CAMPAIGN. 
 
 was unmolested ; and it was considered very doubt- 
 ful whether the English commander would break 
 up from his cantonments and become assailant. 
 
 But they mistook the man when they imagined 
 that Wellington intended to remain inactive. 
 With characteristic celerity his whole army was 
 put in motion, and the Douro, the Carrion, and 
 the Pisuerga were crossed successively. A demon- 
 stration was made on Burgos, and the French were 
 obliged to retire from the place and blow up its 
 defences. Unopposed, the fiery chief reached the 
 valley of the Ebro — and by a rout considered by 
 
 Napoleon's officers impracticable for the move- 
 ment of an army, pressing forward without delay, 
 he crossed the bridges of the river and established 
 himself on the left bank. 
 
 It can hardly be imagined what additional 
 interest this operation, brilliant equally in its 
 execution and results, acquired from the nature 
 of the country across which the line of march 
 passed. The scenery was beautiful and diversi- 
 fied, displaying a singular combination of roman-
 
 OPENING OF THE CAMPAIGN. 57 
 
 tic wildness with exquisite fertility. One while, 
 the columns moved through luxurious valleys 
 intersprinkled with hamlets, vineyards, and 
 flower-gardens ; at another, they struggled up 
 mountain ridges, or pressed through Alpine passes 
 overhung with toppling cliffs, making it almost 
 difficult to decide whether the rugged chasm 
 which they traversed had been rifted from the 
 hill-side by an earthquake, or scarped by the hand 
 of man. If the eye turned downwards, there lay 
 sparkling rivers and sunny dells ; above, rose 
 naked rocks and splintered precipices ; while 
 moving masses of glittering soldiery, now lost, 
 now seen, amid the windings of the rout, gave a 
 panoramic character to the whole, that never will 
 fade from the memory of him who saw it. 
 
 Some sharp fighting occurred on the 18th, 
 between the light troops of the rival armies ; and 
 two retreating brigades of the enemy were over- 
 taken and brought to action by the rifles and 
 52d. The affair terminated on the French part, 
 in the loss of much baggage and some three hun-
 
 58 THE AFFAIR OF ST. MILLAN". 
 
 dred prisoners, although Jourdan, by attacking 
 the British left at Osma, thought to impede the 
 advance of the allies, and afford sufficient time for 
 his own column retiring from Frias to rejoin 
 the main body without loss. 
 
 There is nothing more exciting in warfare, than 
 when a small portion of an army operates in the 
 presence of the whole. The feeling that their 
 comrades' eyes are turned on them, stimulates 
 the combatants ; while an intense anxiety for the 
 success of their brethren in arms, animates the 
 coldest of the lookers on. This was strongly 
 experienced during the short but decisive struggle 
 on the .heights of St. Millan. Although the 
 ground was most unfavourable for an assault, 
 nothing could surpass the splendid style in which 
 the light brigade attacked the enemy. The road 
 by which it was necessary to advance, was rugged, 
 steep, and narrow, overhung with crags and 
 underwood, while a mountain-stream protected 
 the French front, and some straggling houses in- 
 creased the difficulty of advancing, by affording
 
 THE AFFAIR OF ST. MILLAN. 59 
 
 cover to the voltigeurs who had formed behind 
 them. After a sharp fusilade the enemy gave 
 ground, and the light brigade was pressing forward, 
 when, suddenly, a fresh column debouched from 
 a ravine, and appeared upon the flank of the 
 assailants. Both rushed on to gain the crest of 
 the hill — and both reached the plateau together. 
 The 52d, bringing their left flank forward in a run, 
 faced round and charged with the bayonet. The 
 conflict was momentary, the French broke, threw 
 away their knapsacks, and fled for the adjoining 
 high grounds ; while a wild cheer from the sup- 
 porting regiment — near enough to witness but 
 not assist in the defeat — bore a soldier's tribute to 
 the gallantry of their companions. 
 
 It was the first time that many of the young 
 men who accompanied O'Connor from England 
 had been " under fire, 11 and seen hostile shots 
 exchanged ; and as the casualties had been 
 trifling, there was no drawback to damp the eclat 
 of a successful affair. Never, indeed, did a young 
 soldier commence a campaign, whose " starry
 
 60 THE BIVOUAC. 
 
 influences " were more auspicious. The "weather 
 ■was fine — the country through -which the line of 
 march lay, rich and picturesque — the troops 
 moved as men move to victory — while a friendly 
 population every where hailed the approach of 
 their deliverers. The peasantry received them 
 with "vivas" — the Spanish girl met them with 
 her tambarine and castanets — while the nuns, 
 leaving relic and rosary to gaze upon the glitter- 
 ing bands as they defiled in quick succession, 
 showered rose-leaves from the convent grates ; or, 
 if the building was too distant from the line of 
 march, waved, with their white veils, a welcome 
 to the conquerors. 
 
 The spot where the rifles bivouacked after the 
 affair of Saint Millan was a wild and romantic 
 valley upon the bank of a bright and rapid 
 stream. The French had occupied it the pre- 
 ceding evening, and, with the variableness of war, 
 the victors established themselves in the same 
 cantonment that but a few hours before had been 
 tenanted by the vanquished. It is marvellous
 
 THE BIVOUAC. 61 
 
 with what celerity soldiers arrange their resting- 
 places. Within an hour from the time the ad- 
 vance halted, the mules were up, the baggage 
 unpacked, fires lighted, and supper in full prepa- 
 ration. No delay impeded these important ope- 
 rations ; the whole of the martial community were 
 actively employed — one carried wood — another 
 watched the camp kettle ; this man mended his 
 shoe — that one cleaned his musket ; all were 
 busy — while the light and careless jest, which 
 occasionally elicited a roar of laughter, might 
 have been expected rather from a peaceful merry- 
 making, than from men after a sharp encounter, 
 and preparing for a more decisive conflict on to- 
 morrow. 
 
 In the ruined shell of a goatherd's hovel, a 
 party of some seven or eight of the rifles had 
 cantoned themselves for the night. Their beds 
 were laid around the walls, a tablecloth was 
 spread in the centre of the floor, each quickly 
 produced the necessary implements for attacking 
 the contents of the camp kettle ; and as all had
 
 62 THE BIVOUAC. 
 
 contributed to the cuisine, the mess presented a 
 strange combination of different viands, united in 
 one general mtlange. Men engaged warmly in 
 the morning with an enemy are not fastidious 
 in gastronomy in the evening; and an oho that 
 would have poisoned an alderman, comprising salt 
 and fresh beef, fowls, rice, vegetables and a hare, 
 was pronounced exquisite. Each from the grand 
 depot selected the food his heart loved ; while a 
 large skin-bottle of countrv wine, and divers flasks 
 and canteens filled with rum and brandy, indi- 
 cated that due precautions had been taken to 
 ensure a meny night. "When the meal ended, 
 the kettle and its contents passed to the uses of 
 the domestics, who had formed a rude bivouac 
 beneath a spreading sycamore. 
 
 " Fill, lads — fill a high bumper," said the 
 senior officer of the group who tenanted the ruins 
 of the goatherd's hut. " Here's green tufts and 
 short barrels. I never was prouder of my brave 
 lights than to-day ; our success was decisive, and 
 our casualties but few."
 
 THE BIVOUAC. 63 
 
 " Poor Robinson! — His was a short career. 
 He fell at the very moment that victory was 
 certain. 1 ' 
 
 " Then," said Major O'Connor, " he fell 
 where the brave should. Come, George — thou 
 hast for the first time heard a bullet hiss ! What 
 think you of a smart affair like that of Saint 
 Millan?" 
 
 " Think ! " replied the enthusiastic boy, for 
 the speaker had scarcely reached sixteen, " I 
 think that the only thing on earth worth living 
 for, is such a scene as the one I shared in this 
 morning." 
 
 " Right, boy" — and O'Connor sighed heavily. 
 " What are the tamer occupations of peaceful 
 life, compared with the brave and brief career 
 the soldier runs ? That wild hurra that echoed 
 through the mountain passes, when the French 
 were driven from the heights — what mortal 
 sounds could thrill the heart as they did ? Ay, 
 George, let sluggard spirits dream their life away, 
 the brave alone feel that rapturous excitement 
 which makes existence tolerable."
 
 64 THE BIVOUAC. 
 
 O'Brien stole a side glance at the speaker; 
 the eye was fired — the cup was at his lips — but 
 yet, even in that maddening hour of high excite- 
 ment after victor}-, the worm was gnawing a breast 
 that seemed steeled to softer influences 
 
 " How delightful," said another of the neo- 
 phites, who had landed but a few days before 
 from England, " is this wild mode of life ! Have 
 we not all that man can desire ? and a newness 
 and uncertainty that make it doubly agreeable ? 
 Here we are cantoned for the night, and heaven 
 alone can tell where we shall bivouac to-morrow. " 
 
 " Yes, Aylmer," replied O'Brien ; " a summer 
 campaign is not objectionable ; but O'Connor 
 could probably inform you that there are times 
 when a bivouac is not so agreeable. Do you 
 remember when we were hutted at Alcanza ? " 
 
 The major smiled. 
 
 " Yes, Denis ; our accommodations were not 
 just so comfortable." 
 
 " I shall never forget the last night we occu- 
 pied that infernal outpost. It was the morning 
 after Busaco, when Massena, repulsed in every
 
 THE BIVOUAC. 65 
 
 attempt to force our mountain position, endea- 
 voured to turn it by marching in the direction of 
 the road to Oporto. Of course a correspondent 
 movement on our part was indispensable ; and on 
 the 29th of September we retreated upon the lines 
 of Torres Vedras. We reached our intrenchments 
 with little molestation, and there occupied the 
 cantonments, where we were afterwards obliged to 
 winter. 
 
 " From the perfect state of the lines, an assault 
 upon them was utterly hopeless; and after a 
 careful reconnaissance, Junot abandoned all idea 
 of forcing the defences, and changed his opera- 
 tions to a blockade. Nothing could exceed the 
 privations which the French soldiers endured in 
 their miserable cantonments. With scarcely any 
 shelter from the inclemency of winter weather — 
 food in scanty supplies, and of the most wretched 
 description imaginable — disease gaining ground — 
 desertions every day more numerous — while the 
 mortality among the horses was tremendous, as 
 from a scarcity of forage the poor animals were 
 
 VOL. II. F
 
 66 THE BIVOUAC. 
 
 obliged to feed on rotten straw and vine-twigs. 
 Our situation was better than that of the enemy, 
 particularly in being tolerably supplied with corn 
 and provisions ; but as to the huts, I suspect 
 both parties were pretty nearly on a par. We 
 certainly, as they say in Ireland, " kept open 
 house," for the wind and rain entered at every 
 corner. 
 
 "Our habitation was constructed of sods, old 
 boards, and branches, and thatched with heather. 
 Straw was too scarce to be obtained; and the 
 heath we substituted for it, whenever the rain fell 
 heavily, was pervious every where. The inside 
 of our wigwam, although the dimensions were 
 limited, contained seven officers and a brace of 
 greyhounds ; while the beds, comprising stretchers, 
 mattresses, a bear-skin, and two or three trusses 
 of straw, were arranged round the walls, leaving 
 a space in the centre for the rude apology which 
 a shattered door formed for a table. When the 
 night was wet, it was amusing to see the different 
 expedients that each man resorted to, and the
 
 THE BIVOUAC. 6*7 
 
 ingenious contrivances devised to obtain shelte- 
 from the rain. Some extended their blankets 
 upon upright sticks, and stowed themselves ber 
 neath it ; others put their faith in the tablecloth 
 as a canopy. But these contrivances, however, 
 were generally found wanting; when fully satu- 
 rated, the cloths brought clown the sticks, and 
 the sleeper had the whole collection of water in 
 one plump ; and instead of receiving it by the 
 drop, he got it by the gallon. Llewellin, the little 
 Welshman who was killed at Badajos, was the 
 most comical figure upon earth, as he sate on a 
 truss of straw in the corner, under a tattered um- 
 brella — while CTShaughnessy and Daly, wrapped 
 in their cloaks, remained all night stoutly at the 
 table, discussing brandy punch, and playing 
 " spoiled five," from a pack of cards reduced to 
 twenty-seven, and whose backs, from divers stains, 
 were to both just as familiar as their faces were. 
 But the last night topped all. The roof, sur- 
 charged with moisture, became too weighty for 
 its frail supports, and down it came upon the 
 
 F 2
 
 68 THE BIVOUAC. 
 
 unhappy community; and men and dogs — sleepers 
 and card-players — were all involved in one ge- 
 neral ruin. Poor Daly — a six-pound shot closed 
 his account at Salamanca — roared lustily for help. 
 O'Shaughnessy in vain struggled to liberate 
 himself from a ton of wet heather. The little 
 Welshman was all but smothered under his own 
 umbrella; while the dogs, believing themselves 
 assaulted, bit the legs of the man next the peg 
 they were secured to. Gradually, however, all 
 got disentangled from the wreck, and obtained a 
 lodging from their comrades, who, like ourselves, 
 were hutted at this execrable outpost." 
 
 u Ah ! " said O'Connor, "that is not the kind 
 of concern that Edwards would fancy. His 
 bivouac must be a cottage ornee, with a murmur- 
 ing rivulet and a vineyard in full bearing. The 
 casements should be trelissed with ever-blowing 
 roses, while grapes and oranges ripened against 
 the wall, and he had merely to open the window 
 to gather a dessert. " 
 
 There was a laugh at the romantic picture the
 
 THE BIVOUAC. 69 
 
 young soldier had drawn of campaigning — the 
 goatskin bottle was nearly finished — one after 
 another the revellers stretched themselves on 
 their humble resting-places — in half an hour the 
 bivouac was silent as a peaceful hamlet, and its 
 occupants slept calmly, as if no struggle had 
 occurred that day, and no battle was expected on 
 the morrow.
 
 VITTORIA. 
 
 Messenger. The English are emhattled, you French peers. 
 Constable. To horse, you gallant soldiers ! straight to 
 horse ! 
 
 King Henry V. 
 
 Stroke and thrust, and flash, and cry 
 
 For quarter, or for victory, 
 
 Mingle there with the volleying thunder, 
 
 Which makes the distant city wonder 
 
 How the sounding battle goes, 
 
 If with them, or for their foes. 
 
 Siege of Corinth.
 
 73 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 VITTOMA. 
 
 Some rain had fallen during the night, but a 
 lovelier morning than the 21st of June never 
 broke. The sun rose brilliantly, and the blue 
 sky was cloudless. On either side all was pre- 
 pared for a conflict — a battle was inevitable — the 
 English commander being resolved to offer, and 
 the French marshal to accept the combat. 
 
 The enemy's position was well chosen, but it 
 was rather too extended — on one side it rested 
 on the heights of La Puebla, and on the other 
 occupied the ridge above Gamarra Major. The 
 French order of battle embraced two lines — the
 
 74 vittoria. 
 
 armies of Portugal and the South were in the 
 first, and the cavalry and army of the centre 
 were placed in the second in reserve. The entire, 
 with the exception of a small corps, were drawn 
 out in front of Vittoria, and formed on the left 
 bank of the Zadorra, which sweeping round 
 the whole position rendered it truly formi- 
 dable. 
 
 While the front was defended by the river, the 
 great roads to Bayonne and Pampeluna, in the 
 event of any disaster, offered every facility for 
 retreating. In many respects the French position 
 at Vittoria was excellent ; the communications 
 were direct, and not liable to obstruction ; the 
 artillery were in battery, and a large proportion 
 covered by a field-work in the weakest point (the 
 centre), near the village of Gomecha; while the 
 plains around Vittoria offered every advantage 
 for the operations of cavalry ; and that arm of 
 Joseph's concentrated force was both numerous 
 and well appointed. 
 
 The only means of attack upon the centre of
 
 VITTORIA. 75 
 
 the French position, was by crossing the bridges of 
 the Zadorra, and they were in every place com- 
 manded by the guns, and open to a charge of 
 cavalry. Every thing that could cover an enemy's 
 advance had been carefully removed, and few 
 beside British soldiers would have dared to bring 
 on an action, where so many difficulties were to be 
 encountered in the very opening of the contest. 
 
 Soon after the action commenced, Joseph 
 placed himself upon a rising ground that over- 
 looked his right and centre. His own guard were 
 formed in his rear, and a numerous and splendid 
 staff surrounded him. Wellington had chosen an 
 eminence commanding the right bank of the 
 Zadorra, and directly in front of the village of 
 Arinez. Dressed in a short gray coat closely 
 buttoned, his Spanish sash and plumed hat alone 
 marked his rank. He remained for a long time 
 on foot ; and while the contest on the heights of 
 Puebla continued doubtful, his glass was turned 
 almost exclusively upon that point, as he watched 
 the progress of the contest with the same coolness
 
 76 VITTORIA. 
 
 with which he would have regarded the manoeuvres 
 of a review. 
 
 There never was during the Peninsular cam- 
 paigns a battle that required nicer combina- 
 tions and a more correct calculation in time 
 and movements than that of Vittoria. It was 
 impossible to bring up to the immediate proximity 
 for attack every portion of his numerous army, 
 and hence many of Wellington's brigades had 
 bivouacked at a considerable distance from the 
 Zadorra. Part of the country before Vittoria 
 was difficult and rocky ; hamlets, enclosures, 
 and ravines, separating the columns from each 
 other. Some of them were obliged to move by 
 narrow and broken roads, and arrangements, per- 
 fect in themselves, were liable to embarrass- 
 ment from numerous contingencies. But the 
 genius that could plan these extended operations, 
 could also remedy fortuitous events, if such 
 occurred. 
 
 The attack commenced by Hill's division moving- 
 soon after daylight by the Miranda road, and
 
 VITTORIA. 77 
 
 the detaching of Manila's Spiinish corps to carry 
 the heights of La Puebla, and drive in the left 
 flank of the enemy. The task was a difficult one. 
 The ground rose abruptly from the valley, and 
 towering to a considerable height, presented a 
 sheer ascent that at first sight appeared almost 
 impracticable. The Spaniards, with great diffi- 
 culty, although unopposed, reached the summit; 
 and there among rocks and broken ground became 
 sharply engaged with the French left. Unable 
 however to force the enemy from the heights, 
 Sir Rowland detached a British brigade to Mo- 
 rula's assistance, while, alarmed for the safety of 
 his flank, Jourdan detached troops from his centre 
 to support it. A fierce and protracted combat en- 
 sued, and Colonel Cadogan fell at the head of his 
 brigade. Gradually and steadily the British gained 
 ground ; and while the eyes of both armies were 
 turned upon the combatants, and the possession 
 of the heights seemed doubtful, the eagle glance 
 of Wellington discovered the forward movement 
 of the Highland tartans, and he announced to his 
 staff that La Puebla was his own.
 
 78 "VITTORIA. 
 
 To support the attack upon the heights, 
 O'Callaghan's brigade of the second division 
 crossed the river and assaulted Sabijana de Alava. 
 Notwithstanding a sharp resistance the place 
 was carried most gallantly; but as the village 
 was in advance, the French made repeated efforts 
 to repossess it. The British, however, held it 
 bravely, until the centre and left having closed up 
 enabled the English general to make a decisive 
 movement of the whole line. 
 
 Meanwhile the light divisions had left the 
 road, and formed in close columns behind rocks 
 and broken ground at some distance from the 
 river. The hussar brigade remained dismounted 
 on the left ; while the fourth division deployed 
 to the right, and took its position for attack. 
 The heavy cavalry were in reserve to support 
 the centre, should support be required before 
 the third and seventh came up and occupied 
 ground on the left flank. During this time the 
 first and fifth divisions, a Spanish and Portu- 
 guese corps, and a strong body of dragoons,
 
 VITTORIA. 79 
 
 were marched from Murgua, to place themselves 
 on the road to Saint Sebastian, and there cut off 
 the enemy's retreat. 
 
 While O'Callaghan's brigade was repeatedly- 
 attacked in Sabijana de Alava, and some anxiety 
 was caused from the delay of the centre and 
 their exposed position, the opening of Sir Thomas 
 Graham's cannonade announced that the battle 
 had commenced on the left. Presently Lord 
 Dalhousie notified his arrival at Mendonza with 
 the third and seventh divisions, and Lord Wel- 
 lington ordered a general attack on the whole 
 of the French position. 
 
 The light division moved under cover of a 
 thicket and placed itself opposite the enemy's 
 right centre, about two hundred paces from the 
 bridge of Villoses. On the arrival of Lord Dal- 
 housie the signal was given to advance; and at 
 the moment a Spaniard announced that one of 
 the bridges had been left undefended. The mis- 
 take was quickly seized upon. A brigade, led by 
 the first iifles, crossed it in a run, and without
 
 80 VITTOMA. 
 
 loss established itself in a deep ravine, where it 
 was protected from the cannonade. 
 
 Nothing could be more beautiful than the 
 operations which followed. The light division 
 carried the bridge of Nanclaus, and the fourth 
 that of Tres Puentes — the divisions of Picton 
 and Dalhousie followed, and the battle became 
 general. The passage of the river — the move- 
 ment of glittering masses from right to left far 
 as the eye could range — the deafening roar of 
 cannon — the sustained fusilade of the infantry — 
 all was grand and imposing — while the English 
 cavalry displayed in glorious sunshine, and formed 
 in line to support the columns, completed a 
 spectacle, that to a military observer would be 
 unequalled. 
 
 Although perfect success had attended the 
 combined movements of the different brigades, the 
 village of Arinez resisted every attack, and even 
 the 88th were repulsed in a daring attempt to storm 
 it. This, probably, was the doubtful struggle 
 of the day, and the French fought desperately.
 
 VITTORIA. 81 
 
 Their artillery played at point-blank distance — 
 the village was filled with infantry — the whole 
 place was shrouded in smoke, while the hissing 
 of shot and bursting of shells added to the 
 terrors of the scene. 
 
 But this was but a momentary check. Wel- 
 lington in person directed a fresh assault — the 
 45 th and 7~ith were led forward, and Arinez 
 carried with the bayonet. 
 
 While the battle was raging in the front, the 
 flank movement on Gamarra Major and Abechuco 
 was being executed by the first and fifth divi- 
 sions. The bridges in front of these villages 
 had been fortified and were obstinately retained ; 
 but when the centre was forced at \ ittoria, 
 their defenders gave way, and Lord Lynedoch 
 occupied them. 
 
 The whole of the enemy's first line were now 
 driven back — but they retired in perfect order, 
 and re-forming close to Vittoria, presented an im- 
 posing front protected by nearly one hundred 
 pieces of artillery. A tremendous fire checked 
 
 VOL. II. G
 
 82 V1TT0RIA. 
 
 the advance of the left centre, and the storm of 
 the guns on both sides raged -with unabated fury 
 for an hour. Yittoria, although so near the com- 
 batants, was hidden from view by the dense 
 smoke, while volley after volley from the French 
 infantry, thinned though it could not shake 
 Picton's "fighting third." But it was a des- 
 perate and final effort. The allies were advancing 
 in beautiful order, and confusion was visible in 
 the enemy's ranks, as their left attempted to retire 
 by echelons of divisions, a movement badly exe- 
 cuted. Presently the cannon were abandoned — 
 and the whole mass of troops commenced re- 
 treating by the road to Pampeluna. The sun was 
 setting, and his last rays fell upon a magnificent 
 spectacle — the red masses of infantry were seen 
 advancing steadily across the plain — the horse 
 artillery at a gallop to the front, to open its fire 
 on the fugitives — the hussar brigade were charg- 
 ing by the Camino Real — while the second divi- 
 sion, having overcome every obstacle and driven 
 the enemy from its front, was extending over the
 
 VITTORIA. 83 
 
 heiglits upon the right in line, its arms and 
 appointments flashing gloriously in the fading 
 sunshine of " departing day." 
 
 Never had an action been more general, nor 
 the attacks in every part of an extended posi- 
 tion, more simultaneous and successful. In the 
 line of operations six bridges over the Zadorra, 
 were crossed or stormed. That on the road to 
 Burgos enabled Lord Hill to pass ; the fourth 
 division crossed that of Nanclaus ; the light, at 
 Tres Puentes ; Picton and Dalhousie passed the 
 river lower down ; while Lord Lynedoch carried 
 Abechuco and Gamarra Major, though both were 
 strongly fortified and both obstinately defended. 
 
 From a hillock on the other side of Yittoria 
 Wellington viewed the retreating enemy and 
 urged forward his own troops hi pursuit. What 
 a sight to meet a conqueror's eye ! Beneath him 
 the valley was covered for a mile with straggline 
 
 •" CO £3 
 
 fugitives — for the French army had totally lost its 
 formation, and neither attempted to rally even or 
 check the pursuit of the British. The horse 
 
 g2
 
 84 VITTORIA. 
 
 artillery were already posted on an adjacent 
 height, showering upon the crowd below them a 
 storm of shot and shells — the light troops and 
 cavalry still pressed forward — while around, the 
 entire materiel of an army was scattered as it 
 had been left, and the whole of a magnificent 
 park, with the exception of a few guns, aban- 
 doned to the victors. Night alone closed the 
 pursuit — and favoured by the broken ground 
 the shattered battalions of the usurper effected 
 their escape. The dtroate was perfect — and two 
 leagues from the town the fiery chief reluctantly 
 ceased to follow, as darkness and previous fatigue 
 rendered further operations impossible. The 
 advnnce bivouacked on the ground where they 
 halted ; and Wellington returning slowly to Vit- 
 toria, entered it at nine at night. 
 
 Never had defeat been more decisive than that 
 which the pseudo king sustained. An army, 
 complete in every arm, was totally dispersed ; and 
 though the prisoners bore but a small proportion 
 to the killed and wounded, that could be ascribed
 
 VICTORIA. 85 
 
 alone to the rapidity with which the French 
 retired, abandoning every thing that could impede 
 their flight, and favoured by a rugged surface, 
 broken roads, and seasonable darkness. Through 
 streets thronged by a victorious soldiery and 
 choked with captured equipages, the English 
 commander and his weary staff' rode slowly to 
 their quarters ; and the same city that, but 
 two nights since, had illuminated in honour of 
 the King of Spain, was blazing now to welcome 
 the conqueror of the usurper. 
 
 On the morning of the 22d, the field of battle 
 and the roads for some miles in the rear exhi- 
 bited an appearance it seldom falls within human 
 power to witness. There, lay the wreck of 
 of a mighty army ; while plunder accumulated 
 during the French successes, and wrung from 
 every part of Spain with unsparing rapacity, 
 was recklessly abandoned to any who chose to 
 seize it. Cannon and caissons, carriages and 
 tumbrels, waggons of every description were ovc r- 
 turned or deserted, and a stranger melange could
 
 86 VITTCEIA. 
 
 not be imagined, than these enormous convoys 
 presented to the eye„ Here was the personal 
 baggage of a king — there the scenery and deco- 
 rations of a theatre. Munitions of war were 
 mixed with articles of virtu ; and with scattered 
 arms and packs, silks, embroidery, plate, and 
 jewels, mingled in wild disorder. One waggon was 
 loaded with money — the next with cartridges; and 
 wounded soldiers, deserted women, and children 
 of every age, every where implored assistance or 
 protection. Here a lady was overtaken in her 
 carriage — in the next calash, was an actress or 
 Ji/fe-de-c/iambre, while droves of oxen were roam- 
 ing over the plain, intermingled with an endless 
 quantity of sheep and goats, mules and horses, 
 asses and milch cows. 
 
 That much valuable plunder came into the 
 hands of the soldiery is certain ; but the better 
 portion fell to the peasantry and camp followers. 
 Two valuable captures were secured — a full mili- 
 tary chest, and the baton of Marshal Jourdan. 
 
 Were not the indiscriminating system of spo-
 
 VITTORIA. 87 
 
 liation adopted by the French armies recollected, 
 the enormous collection of plunder abandoned at 
 Vittoria would appear incredible. From the 
 highest to the lowest, all were bearing off some 
 valuables from the country they had overrun. 
 Even the king himself had not proved an excep- 
 tion ; for, rolled in the imperials of his own car- 
 riage, some of the finest pictures from the royal 
 galleries were discovered. To facilitate their trans- 
 port they had been removed from their frames, 
 and were destined by the usurper to add to the 
 unrivalled collection, that, by similar means, had 
 been abstracted from the continent to centre 
 in the Louvre. "Wellington, however, inter- 
 rupted the Spanish paintings in their transit, and 
 the formality of a restoration.
 
 MOUNTAIN COMBAT— FRENCH BIVOUAC- 
 MILITARY REMINISCENCES. 
 
 King Richard. — Up with my tent : here will I lie to- 
 night ; 
 But where to-morrow ? — Well, all's one 
 for that. 
 
 Shakspeare.
 
 91 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 MOUNTAIN COMBAT— FRENCH BIVOUAC- 
 MILITARY REMINISCENCES. 
 
 After the defeat of Joseph Bonaparte a 
 brilliant continuation of successes attended the 
 British arms. Passages and Paucorbo were 
 taken, Pampeluna strictly blockaded, and the 
 siege of Saint Sebastian commenced. Soult, 
 after his appointment to the command, with 
 a recruited army, endeavoured to succour these 
 fortresses. A series of sanguinary combats in the 
 Pyrenees terminated in his total discomfiture; 
 and, with severe loss on both sides, the French 
 marshal was pursued across the frontier. 
 
 No operation could have been more brilliantly
 
 92 MOUNTAIN COMBAT. 
 
 executed than the mountain march of the light 
 division in pursuit of Souk's rear-guard, after he 
 had been defeated before Pampeluna, and driven 
 back upon the passes of the Bidassoa, which, but 
 a few days before, he had forced in the full 
 confidence of succeeding. The French army 
 suffered heavily in their obstinate and repeated 
 efforts to arrest the advance of the English 
 general. On the 31st of July it continued re- 
 treating, while five British divisions pressed the 
 pursuit vigorously by Roncesvalles, Maya, and 
 Donna Maria. Nothing could equal the distress 
 of the enemy — they were completely worn down ; 
 and fatigued and disheartened as they were, the 
 only wonder is that multitudes did not perish in 
 the wild and rugged passes through which they 
 were obliged to retire. Although rather in the 
 rear of some of the columns, the British light 
 brigades were ordered forward to overtake the 
 enemy, and, wherever they came up, bring them 
 to immediate action. At midnight the bivouacs 
 were abandoned — the division marched — and
 
 MOUNTAIN COMBAT. 93 
 
 after nineteen hours 1 continued exertions, during 
 which time a distance of nearly forty miles was 
 traversed over Alpine heights and roads rugged 
 and difficult beyond description, the enemy were 
 overtaken and attacked. A short but smart affair 
 ensued. To extricate the tail of the column and 
 enable the wounded to get away, the French 
 threw a portion of their rear-guard across the 
 river. The rifles instantly attacked the reinforce- 
 ment — a general fusilade commenced, and con- 
 tinued until night put an end to the aftair, when 
 the enemy retreated over the bridge of Yanzi, 
 and the British pickets took possession of it. 
 Both sides lost many men — and a large portion of 
 French baggage fell into the hands of the pur- 
 suing force who had moved by St. Estevan. 
 
 That night the British light troops lay upon 
 the ground ; and next morning moved forward at 
 daybreak. Debouching through the pass at Sera, 
 the hill of Santa Barbara was crossed by the 
 second brigade, while the rifles carried the heights 
 of Echalar, which the French voltigeurs seemed
 
 94 MOUNTAIN COMBAT. 
 
 determined to maintain. As the mountain was 
 obscured by a thick fog, the firing had a strange 
 appearance to those who witnessed it from the 
 valley, occasional flashes only being seen, while 
 every shot was repeated by a hundred echoes. 
 At twilight the enemy's light infantry were driven 
 in ; but long after darkness fell the report of 
 musketry continued, until after a few spattering 
 shots a deathlike silence succeeded, and told 
 that the last of the enemy had followed their 
 companions, and abandoned the heights to their 
 assailants. 
 
 The next march was but a short one. The 
 light division had been dreadfully harassed for 
 the three preceding days, and it was necessary 
 that time should be allowed for the leading 
 columns to arrive. Fortunately a commissary 
 got up to the front that evening ; and better still, 
 some private supplies arrived most seasonably. 
 Soldiers speedily forget their past fatigues, and a 
 very slight addition to their simple comforts dis- 
 pels the recollection of the privations they have
 
 FRENCH BIVOUAC. 95 
 
 recently endured. Such was the case upon the 
 night of the 4th of August, when the rifles found 
 themselves in the bivouac that the French rear- 
 guard had just quitted. As this post commanded 
 a bridge and ravine, it had been occupied during 
 Soulfs advance and retreat— and with more comfort 
 than such rude halting-places generally exhibit, 
 the interior of the wooden huts bore testimony to 
 the taste and ingenuity of their late inhabitants. 
 
 The whole appearance of what had been a 
 French bivouac for a fortnight was perfectly 
 characteristic of that nation. Some clever con- 
 trivances for cooking, rude arm-racks, a rough 
 table and benches to sit round it, still remained ; 
 while one gentleman had amused himself by 
 drawing likenesses of British officers with a burnt 
 stick, in which face figure and costume were 
 most ridiculously caricatured — while another, a 
 votary of the gentle art of poesy, had immor- 
 talized the charms of his mistress in doggrel 
 verses scratched upon the boards with the point 
 of a bayonet.
 
 96 FRENCH BIVOUAC. 
 
 As the party was unusually large, and there 
 was no chance of the baggage being up for a day 
 or two, " a ready-furnished house," as an Irish 
 servant termed the wooden hovel, was indeed a 
 treasure. A fine clear stream was running before 
 the hut ; and, never imagining that they should 
 be so unceremoniously ejected from their wooden 
 habitation, the French had collected a quantity 
 of billets for firing, and in their hurry off left 
 a sheep and hare behind them. From the com- 
 missary a supply of brandy and biscuit had been 
 obtained — and, at nightfall, a merrier party than 
 that within the bivouac on the Torena never 
 finished the contents of a canteen. 
 
 " Hurra ! my boys ! " exclaimed Major 
 O'Shaughnessy, as he turned down a tin mea- 
 sure of brandy-and-water. " Here we are safe 
 and sound — owners of a house fit for the 
 summer residence of a London alderman — a deep 
 drink for the taking — and such a dinner ! 
 Isn't Peter Bradly the devil at a stew? What a 
 pity it was that his mother did not bind him to a
 
 MILITARY REMINISCENCES. 97 
 
 pastrycook ! Well — it was dacent after all in 
 them French fellows to leave us meat. fire, and 
 lodging. They do now and again exhibit some 
 civility." 
 
 et Yes, they show a marked distinction in their 
 treatment of us and our good allies," said 
 CBrien. " It was strongly instanced this morn- 
 ing. While we were forcing the road, a company 
 had scaled the rocks above it to dislodge the 
 tirailleurs who were firing at us from the heights. 
 A poor fellow of mine, whose complexion is un- 
 commonly swarthy, was wounded in the leg and 
 fell. Unfortunately two or three retreating 
 Frenchmen passed accidentally the spot where 
 he was lying, and mistaking him for a Portuguese 
 sharpshooter, stabbed him in several places, and 
 flung him over the precipice ; while they raised 
 his comrade from the ground, placed a knapsack 
 under his head, and gave him a drink from a 
 leathern bottle of excellent tinta, which one of 
 them had slung across his shoulder. On coming 
 up we found the sufferer stretched upon the road, 
 
 VOL. II. H
 
 98 MILITARY REMINISCENCES. 
 
 and with difficulty he told us how he had been 
 treated. We of course rendered him some assist- 
 ance ; but Sergeant Corrigan's remarks, as he 
 was binding a cloth round his fractured leg, 
 turned our condolence into laughter. " There 
 now," he said, as he propped the wounded man 
 against a rock — " there you are as snug as if 
 you were in the barracks of Kilkenny. Didn't I 
 always tell ye, that yalla face of yours would 
 bring ye into trouble ? No wonder the French 
 mistook ye for a Portagee. It's yourself that 
 could travel from Badajos to Giberralthur, and 
 you're so like a native, the devil a dog would bark 
 at you the whole way. If you get better, Barney 
 dear, write for the priest's lines,* that you were 
 bred and born at Shannon-bridge, and ye can 
 paste it on the back of ye'r knapsack." 
 
 " An instance of French confidence occurred 
 yesterday, after we debouched by Vera, 1 ' observed 
 one of the lieutenants. " I was with a section 
 
 * Lines, Hibernicc, mean a certificate.
 
 MILITARY REMINISCENCES. 99 
 
 of the company in the advance of the rest, when 
 on turning a sudden angle of the road, we per- 
 ceived not twenty yards off, a wounded voltigcur 
 extended on the ground, and a voiing comrade 
 supporting him. The Frenchman never attempted 
 to retreat, but smiled when we came up as if he 
 had been expecting us. ' Good morning,' lie 
 said, ' I have been waiting for you, gentlemen. 
 My poor friend's leg is broken by a shot, and 1 
 could not leave him till you arrived, lest some of 
 these Portuguese brigands should murder him. 
 Pierre,' he continued, as he addressed his com- 
 panion — 'here arc the brave English, and you 
 will be taken care of. I will leave you a flask of 
 water, and you will soon be succoured by our 
 noble enemy. Gentlemen, will you honour me 
 by emptying this canteen. You will find it 
 excellent, for I took it from a portly friar two 
 days ago.' There was no need to repeat the 
 invitation. I set the example, the canteen passed 
 from mouth to mouth, and the monk's brandy 
 vanished. The conscript — for he had not joined 
 
 h2
 
 100 MILITARY REMINISCENCES. 
 
 above a month — replenished the flask with water 
 from a spring just by. He placed it in his com- 
 rade's hand, bade him an affectionate farewell, 
 bowed gracefully to us, threw his musket over 
 his shoulder, and trotted off to join his regiment, 
 which he pointed out upon a distant height. He 
 seemed never for a moment to contemplate the 
 possibility of our sending him in durance to the 
 rear ; and there were about him such kindness and 
 confidence, that on our part no one ever dreamed 
 of detaining him." 
 
 " There never was, and probably never will 
 be," said Captain Mornington, " so powerful an 
 example of the influence of national confidence 
 and courtesy, remaining unimpaired even during 
 the continuance of a ferocious engagement, as that 
 which Talavera exhibits. No fighting could be 
 more desperate than that which marked the 
 meeting of the French and English. Victor, 
 considering the heights occupied by Hill's divi- 
 sion the key of the position, concluded, that if 
 he could carry them, the remainder of the ground
 
 MILITARY REMINISCENCES. 101 
 
 would then become untenable. To effect this, he 
 resorted to a night attack. Lapisse made a feint 
 upon the centre, while Ruffin and Vilatte ascended 
 the heights, and for a short time had them in 
 their possession — but Hill recovered them with 
 the bayonet, and repulsed another furious effort 
 made at midnight. Even though the French, 
 by pretending they were Spaniards and deserters, 
 penetrated the British line, they were driven back 
 with frightful slaughter ; and so desperately was 
 this night-fighting carried on, that the assailants 
 and the assailed frequently were engaged in a 
 mclce so close, that the men fouirht with clubbed 
 muskets. All morning the battle raged, and the 
 day assault was as unsuccessful as the night 
 attack had proved. Both armies had lain upon 
 the ground, but none had slept — the trooper with 
 his horse's bridle round his arm — the soldier 
 in momentary expectation of a fresh attempt, 
 listened in every noise for the enemy's approach. 
 No wonder then that a sultry day in July found 
 both sides overcome with heat and hunger — and 
 by a sort of common consent, long before noon,
 
 102 MILITARY REMINISCENCES. 
 
 hostilities ceased, and the French cooked their 
 dinners, while the English had wine and bread 
 served out. Then it was, that a curious scene 
 ensued. A small stream, tributary to the Tagus, 
 flowed through a part of the battle-ground, and 
 separated the combatants. During the pause that 
 the heat of the weather and the weariness of the 
 troops produced, both armies went to the banks 
 of the rivulet for water. The men approached 
 each other fearlessly, threw down their caps and 
 muskets, chatted to each other like old acquaint- 
 ances, and exchanged their brandy-flasks and 
 wine-skins. All asperity of feeling seemed for- 
 gotten. To a stranger they would appear more 
 like an allied force, than men hot from a ferocious 
 conflict, and only gathering strength and energy 
 to recommence it anew. But a still nobler rivalry 
 for the time existed — the interval was employed 
 in carrying off the wounded, who lay intermixed 
 upon the hard-contested field ; and, to the honour 
 of both be it told, each endeavoured to extri- 
 cate the common sufferers, and remove their 
 unfortunate friends and enemies without distinc-
 
 MILITARY REMINISCENCES. 103 
 
 tion. Suddenly — the bugles sounded — the drums 
 beat to arms — many of the rival soldiery shook 
 hands and parted with expressions of mutual 
 esteem, and in ten minutes after they were again 
 at the bayonet's point." 
 
 " How miserably a portion of the Spaniards 
 behaved !"" 
 
 "Yes," said O'Connor, "only for their cow- 
 ardice the British would not have suffered so 
 dreadfully as they did. But what could be 
 expected from troops led by such miserable offi- 
 cers, and commanded by an imbecile old man 
 like Cuesta ? I saw him the day before the battle 
 commenced. He was mounting his horse to look 
 at some brigades of ours ; two grenadiers lifted 
 him bodily to the saddle, while an aide-de-camp 
 passed his legs across the horse's croup, and 
 an orderly fixed his foot within the stirrup ! 
 The rosary were better litted for one of his infir- 
 mities than the baton of command. When he 
 was with great difficulty dismounted from his 
 charger's back, they transferred him into a Ium-
 
 104 MILITARY REMINISCENCES. 
 
 bering coach drawn by half a score of mules, 
 and thus he proceeded in state to his head- 
 quarters." 
 
 " Pray did not the old boy decimate the run- 
 aways ? " inquired a lieutenant. 
 
 " No — Lord Wellington interfered, and saved 
 the greater portion of the scoundrels. The lots 
 were drawn — officers and men prepared for imme- 
 diate execution — when, at the request of the 
 English commander, the condemned were deci- 
 mated anew, and thus nine out of every ten 
 escaped, and only five officers and thirty men 
 suffered." 
 
 " Do you recollect the circumstances that 
 marked the close of Talavera, O'Connor?" 
 
 " Alas ! what a terrible accompaniment to 
 the after horrors of a battle field ! From the 
 heat of the weather the fallen leaves were parched 
 like tinder, and the grass was rank and dry. 
 Near the end of the engagement both were 
 ignited by the blaze of some cartridge-papers, 
 and the whole surface of the ground was pre-
 
 MILITARY REMINISCENCES. 105 
 
 sently covered with a sheet of fire. Those of the 
 disabled who lay on the outskirts of the field, 
 managed to crawl away, or were carried off by 
 their more fortunate companions who had escaped 
 unhurt ; but, unhappily, many gallant sufferers, 
 with ' medicable wounds,' perished in the flames 
 before it was possible to extricate them. I walked 
 over the ground next morning, and, as if to 
 exhibit violent death in all its horrifying variety, 
 the writhed and distorted features of the black- 
 ened corpses I passed by, showed in what into- 
 lerable agony they had breathed their last !" 
 
 "And how did the battle terminate?" inquired 
 one of the lads. 
 
 " Aubrey can best answer you," replied 
 O'Connor; "for he was then in the 48th, and 
 saw the last struggle the French made." 
 
 " It was a beautiful movement," said the 
 officer to whom the major had referred. " The 
 enemy had been repulsed and followed. The 
 guards, carried onwards by victorious excitement, 
 advanced too far, and found themselves in turn
 
 106 MILITARY REMINISCENCES. 
 
 assailed by the French reserve, and mowed down 
 by an overwhelming fire. They fell back ; but 
 as whole sections were swept away, their ranks 
 became disordered, and nothing but their stub- 
 born gallantry prevented a total deroute. Their 
 situation was most critical. Had the French 
 cavalry charged home, nothing could have saved 
 them. Lord Wellington saw the danger, and 
 speedily despatched support. A brigade of horse 
 were ordered up, and our regiment moved from 
 the height we occupied to assist our hard-pressed 
 comrades. We came on at double quick, and 
 formed in the rear by companies, and through the 
 intervals in our line, the broken ranks of the 
 guards retreated. A close and well-directed 
 volley from us arrested the progress of the victo- 
 rious French, while with amazing celerity and 
 coolness, the guards rallied and re-formed ; and 
 in a few minutes advanced in turn to support us. 
 As they came on, the men gave a loud huzza. 
 An Irish regiment to the right answered it with 
 a thrilling cheer. It was taken up from regiment
 
 MILITARY REMINISCENCES. 107 
 
 to regiment, and passed along the English line ; 
 and that wild shout told the advancing enemy 
 that British valour was indomitable. The leading 
 files of the French halted — turned — fell back — 
 and never made another effort. Both armies 
 remained upon the ground ; but during the night 
 Victor decamped, and left victory and an undis- 
 puted field to his conqueror." 
 
 " Gentlemen," said O'Connor, " the night 
 wears fast. Methinks we have had enough of 
 martial reminiscences. Come, fill; and let us 
 change war for a softer theme. I'll "ivc vou a 
 toast — * Lovely woman ! ' — And I propose, as a 
 suitable accompaniment-, that O'Shaughnessy 
 shall favour us with the true detail of one of his 
 amatory adventures." 
 
 " Bravo — nothing can be more apposite to the 
 toast" — responded Captain O'Brien. " Come, 
 Terence, my jewel: forget your national bashful- 
 ness for half an hour, and give us the interesting 
 particulars of the first of one of your nunu 
 attempts at matrimony."
 
 108 MILITARY REMINISCENCES. 
 
 <{ 
 
 Why then, faith," replied the gallant major, 
 ''my opening effort to become a Benedict was 
 nearly as big a blunder as it well could be. Here, 
 hand me that leathern conveniency" — and he 
 pointed to a wine-skin, " though upon my con- 
 science, those young scamps have lessened its 
 contents amazingly. Heigh-ho ! It was a queer 
 business, and I will make the story as short as I 
 
 can." 
 
 Major CTShaughnessy having fortified himself 
 with a stoup of tinta, thus commenced the 
 affecting narrative of his first disappointment 'in 
 love.
 
 CONFESSIONS OF A GENTLEMAN, WHO 
 WOULD HAVE MARRIED IF HE COULD. 
 
 Come, come with me, and we will make short work ; 
 For, by your leaves, you shall not stay alone, 
 Till holy church incorporate two in one. 
 
 Romeo and Juliet. 
 
 Duke. What! are you married ? 
 
 Mariana. No, my lord. 
 
 Duke. Are you a maid ? 
 
 Mariana. No, my lord. 
 
 Duke. A widow then ? 
 
 Mariana. Neither, my lord. 
 
 Duke. Why, thou 
 
 Art nothing then : neither maid, widow, nor wife. 
 Measure for Measure.
 
 Ill 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 CONFESSIONS OF A GENTLEMAN WHO 
 WOULD HAVE MARRIED IF HE COULD. 
 
 FIRST CONFESSION. 
 
 Yes — here I am, Terence O'Shaughnessy, 
 an honest major of foot, five feet eleven and a 
 half, and forty-one, if I only live till Michaelmas. 
 Kicked upon the world before the down had 
 blackened on my chin, fortune and I have been 
 •wrestling from the cradle, and yet I had little to 
 tempt the jade's malevolence. The youngest son 
 of an excellent gentleman, who, with an ill-paid 
 rental of twelve hundred pounds, kept his wife in 
 Bath, and his hounds in Tipperary, my patrimony 
 would have scarcely purchased tools for a high-
 
 112 CONFESSIONS OF A GENTLEMAN WHO 
 
 wayman, when in my tenth year my father's sister 
 sent for me to Roundwood ; for hearing that I 
 was regularly going to the devil, she had deter- 
 mined to redeem me if she could. 
 
 My aunt Honor was the widow of a captain 
 of dragoons, who got his quietus in the Low 
 Countries some years before I saw the light. His 
 relict had in compliment to the memory of her 
 departed lord eschewed matrimony, and like a 
 Christian woman, devoted her few and evil days 
 to cards and religion. She was a true specimen 
 of an Irish dowager — her means were small, 
 her temper short— she was stiff* as a ramrod, and 
 proud as a field-marshal. To her my education 
 and future settlement in life were entirely con- 
 fided, as one brief month deprived me of both 
 parents. My mother died in a state of insol- 
 vency, greatly regretted by every body in Bath — 
 to whom she was indebted ; and before her dis- 
 consolate husband had time to overlook a moiety 
 of the card claims transmitted for his liquidation, 
 he broke his neck in attempting to leap the
 
 WOULD HAVE MARRIED IF HE COULD. 113 
 
 pound-wall of Oran-morc, for a bet of a rump and 
 dozen. Of course he was waked and buried like 
 a gentleman — every thing sold by the creditors — 
 mv brothers sent to school — and I left to the 
 tender mercy and sole management of the widow 
 of Captain O'Finn. 
 
 My aunt's guardianship continued seven years, 
 and at the expiration of that time I was weary of 
 her thrall, and she tired of my tutelage. I was 
 now at an age when some walk of life must be 
 selected and pursued. For any honest avocation 
 I had, as it was universally admitted, neither 
 abilities nor inclination. What was to be done? 
 and how was I to be disposed of? A short 
 deliberation showed that there was but one path 
 for me to follow, and I was handed over to that 
 rejugium peccatorum, the army, and placed as a 
 volunteer in a regiment just raised, with a pro- 
 mise from the colonel that I should be promoted 
 to the first ensigncy that became vacant. 
 
 Great was our mutual joy when Mrs. (/"Finn 
 and I were about to part company. 1 took an 
 
 VOL. II. I
 
 114 CONFESSIONS OF A GENTLEMAN WHO 
 
 affectionate leave of all my kindred and acquaint- 
 ances, and even, in the fulness of my heart, shook 
 hands with the schoolmaster, though in boyhood 
 I had devoted him to the infernal gods for his 
 wanton barbarity. But my tenderest parting was 
 reserved for mv next door neighbour .the belle among 
 the village beauties, and presumptive heiress to 
 the virtues and estates of quartermaster Maginn. 
 
 Biddy Maginn was a year younger than myself; 
 and to do her justice, a picture of health and 
 comeliness. Lord ! what an eye she bad ! and 
 her leg ! nothing but the gout would prevent a 
 man from following it to the very end of Oxford- 
 street. Biddy and I were next neighbours — our 
 houses joined — the gardens were only separated 
 by a low hedge — and by standing on an inverted 
 flower-pot one could accomplish a kiss across it 
 easily. There was no harm in the thing— it was 
 merely for the fun of trying an experiment — and 
 when a geranium was damaged, we left the blame 
 upon the cats. 
 
 Although there was a visiting acquaintance
 
 WOULD HAVE MARRIED IF HE COULD. 115 
 
 between the retired quartermaster and the relict 
 of the defunct dragoon, never had any cordiality 
 existed between the houses. My aunt O'Fimi, 
 was as lofty in all things appertaining to her 
 consequence, as if she had been the widow of a 
 common-councilman ; and Roger Maginn, having 
 scraped together a good round sum, by the 
 means quartermasters have made money since 
 the days of Julius Caesar, was not inclined to 
 admit any inferiority on his part. Mrs. O'Finn 
 could never imagine that any circumstances 
 could remove the barrier in dignity which 
 stood between the non-commissioned officer and 
 the captain. While arguing on the saw, that 
 " a living ass is better than a dead lion," Roger 
 contended that he was as good a man as Captain 
 O'Finn ; he, Roger, being alive and merry in 
 the town of Rallinamore, while the departed com- 
 mander had been laid under a " counterpane of dai- 
 sies," in some counterscarp in the Low Countries. 
 Biddy and I laughed at the feuds of our supe- 
 riors ; and on the evening of a desperate blow-up, 
 
 i2
 
 116 CONFESSIONS OF A GENTLEMAN WHO 
 
 we met at sunset in the garden — agreed that the 
 old people were fools — and resolved that nothing 
 should interrupt our friendly relations. Of 
 course the treaty was ratified with a kiss, for I 
 recollect that next morning the cats were heavily 
 censured for capsizing a box of mignionette. 
 
 No wonder then that I parted from Biddy 
 with regret. T. sat with her till we heard the 
 quartermaster scrape his feet at the hall-door 
 on his return from his club — and kissing poor 
 Biddy tenderly, as Roger entered by the front, 
 I levanted by the back door. I fancied myself 
 desperately in love, and was actually dreaming 
 of my dulcinea when my aunt's maid called me 
 before day, to prepare for the stage-coach that 
 was to convey me to my regiment in Dublin. 
 
 In a few weeks an ensigncy dropped in, and I 
 
 got it. Time slipped insensibly away — months 
 
 became years — and three passed before I revisited 
 
 Ballinamore. I heard, at stated periods, from 
 
 Mrs. O'Finn. The letters were generally a 
 detail of bad luck or bad health. For the last
 
 WOULD HAVE MARRIED IF HE COULD. 117 
 
 quarter she had never marked honours — or for 
 the last week closed an eye with rheumatism and 
 lumbago. Still as these jeremiades covered 
 my small allowance, they were welcome as a 
 lover's billet. Of course, in these despatches 
 the neighbours were duly mentioned, and every 
 calamity occurring since her " last," was faith- 
 fully chronicled. The Maginns held a conspi- 
 cuous place in my aunt's quarterly notices. 
 Biddy had got a new gown — or Biddy had got 
 a new piano — but since the dragoons had come 
 to town there was no bearing her. Young Hast- 
 ings was never out of the house — she hoped it 
 would end well — but every body knew a light 
 dragoon could have little respect for the daughter 
 of a quartermaster; and Mrs. O'Finn ended 
 her observations by hinting, that if Roger went 
 seldomer to his club, and Biddy more frequently 
 to mass, why probably in the end it would be 
 better for both of them. 
 
 I re-entered the well-remembered street of 
 Ballinamore late in the evening, after an absence
 
 118 CONFESSIONS OF A GENTLEMAN WHO 
 
 of three years. My aunt was on a visit, and she 
 had taken that as a convenient season for having 
 her domicile newly painted. I halted at the inn, 
 and after dinner strolled over the way to visit my 
 quondam acquaintances, the Maginns. 
 
 If I had intended a surprise, my design would 
 have been a failure. The quartermaster's 
 establishment were on the qui vive. The 
 fact was, that since the removal of the dragoons, 
 Ballinamore had been dull as ditch-water; the 
 arrival of a stranger in a postchaise, of course, 
 had created a sensation in the place., and before 
 the driver had unharnessed, the return of Lieu- 
 tenant O'Shaughnessy was regularly gazetted, 
 and the Maginns, in anticipation of a visit, were 
 ready to receive me. 
 
 I knocked at the door, and a servant with a 
 beefsteak collar opened it. Had Roger mounted 
 a livery ? Ay — faith — there it was, and I began 
 to recollect that mv aunt O'Finn had omened 
 badly from the first moment a squadron of the 
 13th lights had entered Ballinamore. 
 
 I found Roger in the hall. He shook my
 
 WOULD HAVE MARRIED IF HE COULD. 119 
 
 hand, swore it was an agreeable surprise, ushered 
 me into the dining-room, and called for hot water 
 and tumblers. We sat down. Deeply did he 
 interest himself in all that had befallen me — 
 deeply regret the absence of my honoured aunt — 
 but I must not stay at the inn, I should be his 
 guest; and to my astonishment, it was announced 
 that the gentleman in the red collar had been 
 already despatched to transport my luggage to the 
 house. Excuses were idle. Roger's domicile was to 
 be head-quarters, and when I remembered my old 
 flame, Biddy, I concluded that I might for the 
 short time I had to stay, be in a less agreeable 
 establishment than the honest quartermaster's. 
 
 I was mortified to hear that Biddy had been 
 indisposed. It was a bad cold, she had not been 
 out for a month, but she would muffle herself, 
 and meet me in the drawing-room. This, too, 
 was unluckily a night of great importance in the 
 club. The new curate was to be balloted for; 
 Roger had proposed him ; and, ergo, Roger, as 
 a true man, was bound to be present at the cere-
 
 120 CONFESSIONS OF A GENTLEMAN WHO 
 
 mony. The thing was readily arranged. We 
 finished a second tumbler, the quartermaster 
 betook himself to the King's Arms, and the lieu- 
 tenant, meaning myself, to the drawing-room of 
 mv old inamorata. 
 
 There was a visible change in Roger's domicile. 
 The house was newly papered ; and leaving the 
 livery aside, there was a great increase of gentility 
 throughout the whole establishment. Instead of 
 bounding to the presence, by three stairs at a 
 time as I used to do in lang syne, I was cere- 
 moniously paraded to the lady's chamber by him 
 of the beefsteak collar ; and there reclining lan- 
 guidly on a sofa, and wrapped in a voluminous 
 .shawl, Biddy Maginn held out her hand to 
 welcome her old confederate. 
 
 " My darling Biddy !"—" My dear Terence !"— 
 and the usual preliminaries were got over. I 
 looked at my old flame — she was greatly changed, 
 and three years had wrought a marvellous alter- 
 ation. I left her a sprightly girl — she was now 
 a woman — and decidedly a very pretty one;
 
 YVOTLD HAVE MARRIED IF HE COULD. 121 
 
 although the rosiness cf seventeen was gone, and 
 a delicacy that almost indicated bad health had 
 succeeded; "but," thought], "it's all owing 
 to the cold." 
 
 There was a guarded propriety in Biddy's 
 bearing, that appeared almost unnatural. The 
 warm advances of old friendship were repressed, 
 and one who had mounted a flower-pot to kiss 
 me across a hedge, recoiled from any exhibition of 
 our former tenderness. Well, it was all as it 
 should be. Then I was a boy, and now a man. 
 Young women cannot be too particular, and 
 Biddy Maginn rose higher in my estimation. 
 
 Biddy was stouter than she promised to be 
 when we parted, but the eye was as dark and 
 lustrous, and the ankle as taper as when it last 
 had demolished a geranium. Gradually her 
 reserve abated — old feelings removed a con- 
 strained formality — we laughed and talked — ay 
 — and kissed as we had done formerly; and when 
 the old quartermaster's latch-key was heard un- 
 closing the street-door, I found myself admitting
 
 122 CONFESSIONS OF A GENTLEMAN WHO 
 
 in confidence and a whisper, that " I would 
 marry if I could." What reply Biddy would 
 have returned I cannot tell, for Roger sum- 
 moned me to the parlour, and as her cold pre- 
 vented her from venturing down> she bade me 
 an affectionate good-night. Of course she kissed 
 me at parting — and it was done as ardently 
 and innocently as if the hawthorn hedge divided 
 us. 
 
 Roger had left his companions earlier than he 
 usually did in order to honour me his guest. 
 The new butler paraded oysters, and down we 
 sat tete-a-tete. When supper was removed, and 
 each had fabricated a red-hot tumbler from the 
 teakettle, the quartermaster stretched his long 
 legs across the hearthrug, and with great appa- 
 rent solicitude inquired into all that had befallen 
 me since I had assumed the shoulder-knot and 
 taken to the trade of war. 
 
 '•' Humph ! " — he observed — " two steps in 
 three years ; not bad considering there was neither 
 money nor interest. D — n it ! I often wish that
 
 WOULD HAVE MARRIED IF HE COULD. 123 
 
 Biddy was a boy. Never was such a time to 
 purchase on. More regiments to be raised, and 
 promotion will be at a discount. Sir Hugh 
 Haughton married a stockbroker's widow with 
 half a plum, and paid in the two thousand I had 
 lent him. Zounds ! if Biddy were a boy, and 
 that money well applied, I would have her a 
 regiment in a twelvemonth." 
 
 " Phew !" I thought to myself. " I see what 
 the old fellow is driving at." 
 
 " There never would be such another opportu- 
 nity," Roger continued. " An increased force will 
 produce an increased difficulty in effecting it. 
 Men will be worth their own weight in money — 
 and d — n me, a fellow who could raise a few, 
 might have any thing he asked for." 
 
 I remarked that, with some influence and a 
 good round sum, recruits might still be found. 
 
 " Ay, easy enough, and not much money 
 either, if one knew how to go about the thing. 
 Get two or three smart chaps — let them watch 
 fairs and patterns — mind their hits when the
 
 124 CONFESSIONS OF A GENTLEMAN WHO 
 
 bumpkins got drunk, and find out when fellows 
 were hiding from a warrant. D— n me, I would 
 raise a hundred, while you would say Jack 
 Robison. Pay a friendly magistrate ; attest the 
 scoundrels before they were sober enough to cry 
 off; bundle them to the regiment next morning; 
 and if a rascal ran away after the commanding 
 officer passed a receipt for him, why all the 
 better, for you could relist him when he came 
 home again." 
 
 I listened attentively, though in all this the 
 cloven foot appeared. The whole was the plan 
 of a crimp; and, if Roger was not belied, 
 trafficking in "food for powder," had realized 
 more of his wealth than slop-shoes and short 
 measure. 
 
 During the development of his project for 
 promotion, the quartermaster and I had found it 
 necessary to replenish frequently, and with the 
 third tumbler Roger came nearer to business. 
 
 " Often thought it a pity, and often said so in 
 the club, that a fine smashing fellow like you,
 
 WOULD HAVE MARRIED IF HE COULD. 125 
 
 Terence, had not the stuff to push you on. 
 What the devil signifies family, and blood, and 
 allthat balderdash. There's your aunt — worthy 
 woman — but sky-high about a dead captain. 
 D — n me— all folly. Were I a young man, I'd 
 get hold of some girl with the wherewithal, and 
 I would double-distance half the highfliers for 
 a colonelcy." 
 
 This was pretty significant — Roger had come 
 to the scratch, and there was no mistaking him. 
 We separated for the night. I dreamed, and 
 in fancy was blessed with a wife, and honoured 
 with a command. Nothing could be more en- 
 trancing than my visions ; and when the quarter- 
 master's maitre d'/iutel roused me in the morning 
 I was engaged in a friendly argument with my 
 beloved Biddy, as to which of his grandfathers 
 our heir should be called after, and whether the 
 lovely babe should be christened Roderick or 
 Roger. 
 
 Biddy was not at breakfast ; the confounded 
 cold still confined her to her apartment; but she
 
 126 CONFESSIONS OF A GENTLEMAN WHO 
 
 hoped to meet me at dinner, and I must endure 
 her absence until then as I best could. Having 
 engaged to return at five, I walked out to visit 
 my former acquaintances. From all of them I 
 received a warm welcome, and all exhibited some 
 surprise at hearing that I was domesticated with 
 the quartermaster. I comprehended the cause 
 immediately. My aunt and Roger had probably 
 a fresh quarrel ; but his delicacy had prevented 
 him from communicating it. This certainly 
 increased my respect for the worthy man, and 
 made me estimate his hospitality the more highly. 
 Still there was an evident reserve touching the 
 Maginns ; and once or twice, when dragoons were 
 mentioned, I fancied I could detect a significant 
 look pass between the persons with whom I was 
 conversing. 
 
 It was late when I had finished my calls ; 
 Roger had requested me to be regular to time, 
 and five was fast approaching. I turned my 
 steps towards his dwelling-place, when, at a 
 corner of a street, I suddenly encountered an old
 
 WOULD HAVE MARRIED IF HE COULD. 127 
 
 schoolfellow on horseback, and great was our 
 mutual delight at meeting so unexpectedly. We 
 were both hurried however, and consequently our 
 greeting was a short one. After a few general 
 questions and replies, we were on the point of 
 separating, when my friend pulled up. 
 
 " But where are you hanging out ? " said 
 Frederick Maunsell. " I know your aunt is 
 absent." 
 
 " I am at old Maginn's." 
 
 " The devil you are ! Of course you heard all 
 about Biddy and young Hastings ? " 
 
 " Not a syllable. Tell it to me." 
 
 " I have not time — it's a long story; but 
 come to breakfast, and Til give you all the parti- 
 culars in the morning. Adieu!" He struck the 
 spurs into his horse, and cantered off singing, 
 
 " Oh ! she loved a hold dragoon, 
 With his long sword, saddle, bridle." 
 
 I was thunderstruck. " Confound the dragoon V 
 thought 1, "and his long sword, saddle, and bridle, 
 into the bargain. Gad — I wish Maunsell had
 
 128 CONFESSIONS OF A GENTLEMAN WHO 
 
 told me what it was. Well — what suppose I ask 
 Biddy herself ?" I had half resolved that evening 
 to have asked her a very different question; but, 
 faith, I determined now to make some inquiries 
 touching Cornet Hastings of the 13th, before 
 Miss Biddy Maginn should be invited to become 
 Mrs. CTShaugrmessy. 
 
 My host announced that dinner was quite 
 ready, and I found Biddy in the eating-room. 
 She was prettily dressed as an invalid should be ; 
 and notwithstanding her cold looked remarkably 
 handsome. I would to a dead certainty have been 
 over head and ears in love, had not M'aunselPs 
 inuendo respecting the young dragoon operated 
 as a damper. 
 
 Dinner proceeded as dinners always do, and 
 Roger was bent on hospitality. I fancied that 
 Biddy regarded me with some interest, while 
 momently I felt an increasing tenderness that 
 would have ended, I suppose, in a direct decla- 
 ration, but for the monitory hint which I had 
 received from my old schoolfellow. I was dying
 
 WOULD HAVE MARRIED IF HE COULD. 129 
 
 to know what Maunsell's allusion pointed at, and 
 I casually threw out a feeler. 
 
 " And you are so dull, you say ? Yes, Biddy, 
 you must miss the dragoons sadly. By the way, 
 there was a friend of mine here. Did you know 
 Tom Hastings ? " 
 
 I never saw an elderly gentleman and his 
 daughter more confused. Biddy blushed like a 
 peony, and Roger seemed desperately bothered 
 x\t last the quartermaster responded, 
 
 " Fact is — as a military man, showed the 
 cavalry some attention — constantly at the house — 
 anxious to be civil — helped them to make out 
 forage — but damned wild — obliged to cut, and 
 keep them at a distance." 
 
 "Ay, Maunsell hinted something of that." 
 
 I thought Biddy would have fainted, and 
 Roger grew red as the footman's collar. 
 
 " Pshaw ! d — d gossiping chap that Maun- 
 sell. Young Hastings — infernal hemp — used to 
 ride with Biddy. Persuaded her to get on a horse 
 of his — ran away — threw her — confined at an 
 
 VOL. II. K
 
 130 CONFESSIONS OF A GENTLEMAN WHO 
 
 inn for a week —never admitted him to my house 
 afterwards." 
 
 Oh ! here was the whole mystery unravelled ! 
 No wonder Roger was indignant, and that Biddy 
 would redden at the recollection. It was devilish 
 unhandsome of Mr. Hastings ; and I expressed my 
 opinion in a way that evidently pleased my host 
 and his heiress, and showed how much I disap- 
 proved of the conduct of that rout the dragoon. 
 
 My fair friend rose to leave us. Her shawl 
 caught in the chair, and I was struck with the 
 striking change a few years had effected in my 
 old playfellow. She was grown absolutely stout. 
 I involuntarily noticed it. 
 
 " Lord ! Biddy — how fat you are grown." 
 
 A deeper blush than even when I named that 
 luckless dragoon, flushed to her very brows at 
 the observation, while the quartermaster rather 
 testily exclaimed, 
 
 "Ay — she puts on her clothes as if they were 
 tossed on with a pitchfork, since she got this 
 cold. D — n it, Biddy, I say, tighten your-
 
 WOULD HAVE MARRIED IF HE COULD. 131 
 
 self, woman ! Tighten yourself, or I won't be 
 plased!" 
 
 Well, here was a load of anxiety removed, and 
 MaunselFs mischievous inuendo satisfactorily 
 explained away. Biddy was right in resenting 
 the carelessness that exposed her to ridicule and 
 danger ; and it was a proper feeling in the old 
 quartermaster, to cut the man who would mount 
 his heiress on a break-neck horse. Gradually we 
 resumed the conversation of last night — there was 
 the regiment if I chose to have it — and when 
 Roger departed for the club, I made up my 
 mind, while ascending the stairs, to make a splice 
 with Biddy, and become Colonel O'Shaugh- 
 nessy. 
 
 Thus determined, I need not particularize 
 what passed upon the sofa. My wooing was short, 
 sharp, and decisive; and no afFected delicacy 
 restrained Biddy from confessing that the flame 
 was mutual. My fears had been moonshine; 
 my suspicions groundless. Biddy had not valued 
 the dragoon a brass button ; and — poor soul — 
 
 k2
 
 132 CONFESSIONS OF A GENTLEMAN WHO 
 
 she hid her head upon my shoulder, and, in a 
 soft whisper, acknowledged that she never had 
 cared a traneeine* for any body in the wide 
 world but myself! 
 
 It was a moment of exquisite delight. I told 
 her of my prospects, and mentioned the quarter- 
 master's conversation. Biddy listened with deep 
 attention. She blushed — strove to speak — 
 stopped — was embarrassed. I pressed her to be 
 courageous ; and at last, she deposited her head 
 upon my breast, and bashfully hinted that Roger 
 was old — avarice was the vice of age — he was 
 fond of money — he was hoarding it certainly for 
 her ; but still, it would be better that my promo- 
 tion should be secured. Roger had now the 
 cash in his own possession. If we were married 
 without delay, it would be transferred at once ; 
 whereas, something that might appear to him 
 advantageous might offer, and induce her father 
 to invest it. But she was really shocked at her- 
 
 * Anglicc, a jackstraw.
 
 WOULD HAVE MARRIED IF HE COULD. 133 
 
 self— such a proposition would appear so inde- 
 licate; but still a husband's interests were too 
 dear to be sacrificed to maiden timidity. 
 
 I never estimated Biddy's worth till now. She 
 united the foresight of a sage, with the devotion 
 of a woman. I would have been insensible, 
 indeed, had I not tested my regard and admira- 
 tion ; and Biddy was still resting on my shoulder, 
 when the quartermaster's latch-key announced 
 his return from the club. 
 
 After supper I apprized Roger of my passion 
 for his daughter, and modestly admitted that I 
 had found favour in her sight. He heard my 
 communication, and frankly confessed that I was 
 a son-in-law he most approved of. Emboldened 
 by the favourable reception of my suit, I ven- 
 tured to hint at an early day, and pleaded "a 
 short leave between returns," for precipitancy. 
 The quartermaster met me like a man. 
 
 " When people wished to marry, why delay 
 was balderdash. Matters could be quickly and 
 quietly managed. His money was ready — no
 
 134 CONFESSIONS OF A GENTLEMAN WHO 
 
 bonds or post obits — a clean thousand in hand, 
 and another the moment an opening to purchase 
 a step should occur. No use in mincing matters 
 among friends. Mrs. O'Finn was an excellent 
 woman She was a true friend, and a good 
 Catholic; but d — n it, she had old-world notions 
 about family, and in pride the devil was a fool to 
 her. If she came home before the ceremony, 
 there would be an endless fuss — and Roger con- 
 cluded by suggesting that we should be married 
 the next evening, and give my honoured aunt an 
 agreeable surprise." 
 
 That was precisely what I wanted ; and a hap- 
 pier man never pressed a pillow than I, after my 
 interesting colloquy with the quartermaster. 
 
 The last morning of my celibacy dawned. I 
 met Roger only at the breakfast table ; for my 
 beloved Biddy, between cold and virgin trepida- 
 tion, was hors de combat, and signified in a 
 tender billet her intention to keep her chamber, 
 until the happy hour arrived that should unite us 
 in the silken bonds of hymen. The quarter-
 
 WOULD HAVE MARRIED IF HE COULD. 135 
 
 master undertook to conduct the nuptial prepara- 
 tions ; a friend of his would perform the cere- 
 mony, and the quieter the thing was done the 
 better. After breakfast he set out to complete 
 all matrimonial arrangements ; and I strolled into 
 the garden to ruminate on my approaching hap- 
 piness, and bless Heaven for the treasure I was 
 destined to possess in Biddy Maginn. 
 
 No place could have been more appropriately 
 selected for tender meditation. There was the 
 conscious hedge, that had witnessed the first kiss 
 of love ; ay, and for aught I knew to the con- 
 trary, the identical flower-pot on which her 
 sylphic form had rested ; sylphic it was no longer, 
 for the slender girl had ripened into a stout and 
 comely gentlewoman ; and she would be mine — 
 mine that very evening. 
 
 " Ah! Terence," I said in au under tone, 
 " Few men at twenty-one have drawn such a 
 prize. A thousand pounds ready cash — a regi- 
 ment in perspective — a wife in hand ; and such a 
 wife — young, artless, tender, and attached. By
 
 136 CONFESSIONS OF A GENTLEMAN WHO 
 
 every thing matrimonial, you have the luck of 
 
 thousands ? " 
 
 My soliloquy was interrupted by a noise on 
 
 the other side of the fence. I looked over. It 
 
 was my aunt's maid ; and great was our mutual 
 astonishment ! Judy blessed herself, as she 
 
 ejaculated — 
 
 " Holy Virgin ! Master Terence, is that you ?" 
 I satisfied her of my identity, and learned to 
 my unspeakable surprise that my aunt had re- 
 turned unexpectedly, and that she had not the 
 remotest suspicion that her affectionate nephew, 
 myself, was cantoned within pistol-shot. With- 
 out consideration I hopped over the hedge, and 
 next minute was in the presence of my honoured 
 protectress, the relict of the departed captain. 
 
 " Blessed angels ! " exclaimed Mrs. O'Finn, 
 as she took me to her arms, and favoured me 
 with a kiss, in which there was more blackguard* 
 than ambrosia " Arrah ! Terence, jewel ; what 
 
 * Coarse Irish snuff.
 
 WOULD HAVE MARRIED IF HE COULD. 137 
 
 the devil drove ye here ? Lord pardon me for 
 mentioning him !" 
 
 " My duty, dear aunt. I am but a week 
 landed from Jersey, and could not rest till I got 
 leave from the colonel to run down between 
 returns, and pay you a hurried visit. Lord ! 
 How well you look ! " 
 
 " Ah ! then, Terence, jewel, it's hard for me 
 to look well, considering the way I have been 
 fretted by the tenants, and afflicted with the 
 lumbago. Denis Clark — may the widow's curse 
 follow him wherever he goes! — bundled off to 
 America with a neighbour's wife, and a year and 
 a half's rent along with her, the thief! And 
 then, since Holland tide, I have not had a day's 
 health." 
 
 " Well, from your looks I should never have 
 supposed it. But you were visiting at Meldrum 
 Castle?" 
 
 " Yes, faith, and a dear visit it was. Nothing 
 but half-crown whist, and unlimited brag. Lost 
 seventeen points last Saturday night. It was
 
 138 CONFESSIONS OF A GENTLEMAN WHO 
 
 Sunday morning, Christ pardon us for playing ! 
 But what was that to my luck yesterday evening. 
 Bragged twice for large pools, with red nines and 
 black knaves ; and Mrs. Cooney, both times, 
 shewed natural aces ! If ever woman sold herself, 
 she has. The Lord stand between us and evil ! 
 Well, Terence, you'll be expecting your quar- 
 ter's allowance. We'll make it out some how — 
 Heigh ho ! Between bad cards, and runaway 
 tenants, I can't attend to my soul as I ought, 
 and Holy Week coming ! " 
 
 I expressed due sympathy for her losses, and 
 regretted that her health, bodily and spiritual, 
 was so indifferent. 
 
 " I have no good news for you, Terence," 
 continued Mrs. O'Finn. " Your brother Arthur 
 is following your poor father's example, and 
 ruining himself with hounds and horses. He's a 
 weak and wilful man, and nothing can save him, 
 I fear. Though he never treated me with proper 
 respect, I strove to patch up a match between 
 him and Miss Mac Teggart. Five thousand
 
 WOULD HAVE MARRIED IF HE COULD. 139 
 
 down upon the nail, and three hundred a year 
 failing her mother. I asked her here on a visit, 
 and though he had ridden past without calling on 
 me, wrote him my plan, and invited him to meet 
 her. What do you think, Terence, was his 
 reply? Why, that Miss Mac Teggart might go 
 to Bath, for he would have no call to my swivel- 
 eyed customers. There was a return for my 
 kindness; as if a woman with five thousand 
 down, and three hundred a year in expectation, 
 was required to look straight. Ah ! Terence, I 
 wish you had been here. She went to Dublin, 
 and was picked up in a fortnight. 11 
 
 Egad ! here was an excellent opportunity to 
 broach my own success. There could be no harm 
 in making the commander's widow a confidante ; 
 and, after all, she had a claim upon me as my 
 early protectress. 
 
 " My dear aunt, I cannot be surprised at your 
 indignation. Arthur was a fool, and lost an 
 opportunity that never may occur again. In 
 fact, my dear madam, I intended to have given
 
 140 CONFESSIONS OF A GENTLEMAN WHO 
 
 you an agreeable surprise. I — I — I am on — 
 the very brink of matrimony ! " 
 
 " Holy Bridget!" exclaimed Mrs. O'Finn, as 
 she crossed herself devoutly. 
 
 " Yes, ma'am. I am engaged to a lady with 
 two thousand pounds." 
 
 '* Is it ready, Terence ?" said my aunt. 
 
 " Down on the table, before the priest puts on 
 his vestment." 
 
 " Arrah — my blessing attend ye, Terence. I 
 knew you would come to good.*" 
 
 " Is she young ? " 
 
 " Just twenty." 
 
 " Is she good-looking?" 
 
 " More than that ; extremely pretty, innocent 
 and artless." 11 
 
 " Arrah — give me another kiss, for I'm proud 
 of ye;" and Captain O'Finn's representative 
 clasped me in her arms. 
 
 " But the family, Terence; remember the old 
 stock. Is she one of us ? " 
 
 " She is highly respectable. An only daughter, 
 with excellent expectations."
 
 WOULD HAVE MARRIED IF HE COULD. 141 
 
 « What is her father, Terence ?" 
 
 " A soldier, ma'am." 
 
 " Lord — quite enough. He's by profession a 
 gentleman ; and we can't expect to find every 
 day descendants from the kings of Connanght, 
 like the O'Shaughnessys and the O 'Finns. 
 But when is it to take place, Terence ? " 
 
 " Why, faith, ma'am, it was a bit of a secret ; 
 but I can keep nothing from you." 
 
 " And why should ye. Haven't I been to 
 you more than a mother, Terence?" 
 
 " I am to be married this evening?" 
 
 " This evening ! Holy Saint Patrick ! and 
 you're sure of the money. It's not a rent-charge 
 — nothing of bills or bonds ? " 
 
 " Nothing but bank notes ; nothing but the 
 aragudh-shecsc. ,, * 
 
 " Ogh ! my blessing be about ye night and 
 day. Arrah, Terence, what's her name?" 
 
 ci You'll not mention it. We want the thins 
 done quietly." 
 
 * Anglice, cash clown.
 
 142 CONFESSIONS OF A GENTLEMAN WHO 
 
 " Augh, Terence ; and do you think I would 
 let any thing ye told me slip ? By this cross/' — 
 and Mrs. O'Finn bisected the forefinger of her 
 left hand with the corresponding digit of the 
 right one ; " the face of clay shall never be the 
 wiser of any tiling ye mention ! " 
 
 After this desperate adjuration there was no 
 refusing my aunt's request. 
 
 " You know her well," — and I looked ex- 
 tremely cunning. 
 
 "Do I, Terence? Let me see — I have it. 
 It's Ellen Robinson. No— though her money's 
 safe, there's but five hundred ready . ,1 
 
 " Guess again, aunt. 1 ' 
 
 " Is it Bessie Lloyd ? No— though the old 
 miller is rich as a jew, he would not part a 
 guinea to save the whole human race, or make 
 his daughter a duchess." 
 
 " Far from the mark as ever, aunt." 
 
 " Well," returned Mrs. O'Finn, with a sigh, 
 " I'm fairly puzzled." 
 
 " Whisper!" and I playfully took her hand, 
 and put my lips close to her cheek. " Its — "
 
 WOULD HAVE MARRIFD IF HE COULD. 143 
 
 " Who ? — who, for the sake of heaven ?" 
 
 " Biddy Maginn ! " 
 
 " Oh, Jasus ! " ejaculated the captain's relict, 
 as she sank upon a chair. " I'm murdered ! 
 Give me my salts, there. Terence O'Shaugh- 
 nessy, don't touch me. I put the cross be- 
 tween us," — and she made a crural flourish with 
 her hand. " You have finished me, ye villain. 
 Holy Virgin ! what sins have 1 committed, that 
 I should be disgraced in my old age? Meat 
 never crossed my lips of a Friday ; I was regular 
 at mass, and never missed confession ; and, when, 
 the company were honest, played as fair as every 
 body else. I wish I was at peace with poor 
 dear Patt O'Finn. Oh ! murder ! murder ! " 
 
 I stared in amazement. If Roger Maginn had 
 been a highwayman, his daughter could not have 
 been an object of greater horror to Mrs. OTinn. 
 At last I mustered words to attempt to reason 
 with her, but to my desultory appeals she re- 
 turned abuse fit only for a pickpocket to receive. 
 
 " Hear me, madam."
 
 144 CONFESSIONS OF A GENTLEMAN WHO 
 
 " Oh, vou common ommadavm /"* 
 
 " For heaven's sake, listen ! " 
 
 " Oh ! that the O'Finns and the O'Shaugh- 
 nessys should be disgraced by a mean-spirited 
 gommougef of your kind ! " 
 
 " You won't hear me." 
 
 "Biddy Maginn I 1 ' she exclaimed. "Why 
 bad as my poor brother, your father, was, and 
 though he too married a devil that helped to 
 ruin him, she was at all events a lady in her own 
 right, and cousin-german to Lord Lowestoffe. 
 But — you — you unfortunate disciple." 
 
 I began to wax warm, for my aunt compli- 
 mented me with all the abuse she could muster, 
 and there never was a cessation but when her 
 breath failed. 
 
 " Why, what have I done ? What am I about 
 doing?" I demanded. 
 
 " Just going/'' returned Mrs. OTinn, " to 
 make a Judy Fitzsimmon's mother of yourself 1 
 
 * Anglice, a fool. f A simpleton.
 
 WOULD HAVE MARRIED IF HE COULD. 145 
 
 i( And is it," said I, " because Miss Maginn 
 can't count her pedigree from Fin Macoul, that 
 she should not discharge the duties of a wife." 
 
 My aunt broke in upon me. 
 
 " There's one thing certain, that she'll dis- 
 charge the duties of a mother. Heavens ! if you 
 had married a girl with only a blast* your con- 
 nexions might brazen it out. But a woman in 
 such a barefaced condition — as if her staying in 
 the house these three months, could blind the 
 neighbours, and close their mouths." 
 
 " Well, in the devil's name, will you say what 
 objection exists to Biddy Maginn making me a 
 husband to-night ? " 
 
 '* And a papa in three months afterwards ! " 
 rejoined my loving aunt. 
 
 If a shell burst in the bivouac, I could not 
 have been more electrified. Dark suspicions 
 flashed across my mind — a host of circumstances 
 confirmed my doubts — and I implored the widow 
 of the defunct dragoon to tell me all she knew. 
 * Anglice, a flaw of the reputation. 
 
 VOL. If. L
 
 146 CONFESSIONS OF A GENTLEMAN WHO 
 
 It was a simple, although, as far as I was 
 concerned, not a flattering narrative. Biddy had 
 commenced an equestrian novitiate under the 
 tutelage of Lieutenant Hastings. Her progress 
 in the art of horsemanship was no doubt very 
 satisfactory, and the pupil and the professor 
 frequently rode out tete-a-tete. Biddy, poor soul, 
 was fearful of exhibiting any maladdresse, and 
 of course, roads less freauented than the kind's 
 highway were generally chosen for her riding- 
 lessons. Gradually these excursions became more 
 extensive ; twilight, and in summer too, often 
 fell, before the quarter-master's heiress had re- 
 turned ; and on one unfortunate occasion she 
 was absent for a week. This caused a desperate 
 commotion in the town ; the dowagers and old 
 maids sat in judgment on the case, and declared 
 Biddy no longer visitable. In vain her absence 
 was ascribed to accident — a horse had ran away — 
 she was thrown — her ankle sprained — and she 
 was detained unavoidably at a country inn until 
 the injury was abated. 
 
 In this state of things the dragoons were
 
 WOULD HAVE MARRIED IF HE COULD. 147 
 
 ordered off; and it was whispered that there had 
 been a desperate blow-up between the young lady's 
 preceptor the lieutenant, and her papa the 
 quartermaster. Once only had Biddy ventured 
 out upon the mall ; but she was cut dead by her 
 quondam acquaintances. From that day she 
 seldom appeared abroad ; and when she did, 
 it was always in the evening, and even then 
 closely muffled up. No wonder scandal was rife 
 touching the causes of her seclusion. A few 
 charitably ascribed it to bad health — others to 
 disappointment — but the greater proportion of 
 the fair sex attributed her confinement to the 
 true cause, and whispered that Miss Maginn was 
 " as ladies wished to be, who love their lords. 1 ' 
 
 Here was a solution to the mystery ! It was 
 now pretty easy to comprehend why Biddy was 
 swathed like a mummy, and Roger so ready with 
 his cash. No wonder the demoiselle was anxious 
 to abridge delay, and the old crimp so obliging 
 in procuring a priest and preparing all requisite 
 matters for immediate bymeneals. What was to 
 
 l2
 
 148 CONFESSIONS OF A GENTLEMAN WHO 
 
 be done ? What, but denounce the frail fair one, 
 and annihilate that villain, her father. Without 
 a word of explanation I caught up my hat — and 
 left the house in a hurry, and Mrs. O'Finn in a 
 state of nervousness that threatened to become 
 hysterical. 
 
 When I reached the quarter-master's habita- 
 tion, I hastened to my own apartment and got 
 my traps together in double quick. I intended 
 to have abdicated quietly, and favoured the 
 intended Mrs. O'Shaughnessey with an epistle 
 communicating the reasons that induced me to 
 decline the honour of her hand ; but on the 
 landing my worthy father-in-law cut off my 
 retreat, and a parting tcte-a-tete became unavoid- 
 able. He appeared in great spirits at the success 
 of his interview with the parson. 
 
 " Well, Terence, I have done the business. 
 The old chap made a parcel of objections ; but 
 he's poor as Lazarus — slily slipped him ten 
 pounds, and that quieted his scruples. He's 
 ready at a moment's warning."
 
 WOULD HAVE MARRIED IF HE COULD. 149 
 
 " He's a useful person," I replied drily ; 
 " and all you want is a son-in-law." 
 
 '* A what? 1 ' exclaimed the father of Miss 
 Biddy. 
 
 " A son-in-law ?" 
 
 " Why what the devil do you mean ?"" 
 
 " Not a jot moVe or less than what I say. 
 You have procured the priest, but I suspect the 
 bridegroom will not be forthcoming." 
 
 " Zounds, sir ! do you mean to treat my 
 daughter with disrespect ?" 
 
 u Upon consideration, it would be hardly 
 fair to deprive my old friend Hastings of his 
 pupil. Why, with another week's private tuition, 
 Biddy might offer her services to Astley." 
 
 " Sir, — if you mean to be impertinent," — 
 and Roger began to bluster, while the noise 
 brought the footman to the hall, and Miss Biddy 
 to the banisters ' shawled to the nose.' I began 
 to lose temper. 
 
 " Why, you infernal old crimp ! " 
 
 " You audacious young scoundrel !"
 
 150 CONFESSIONS OF A GENTLEMAN WHO 
 
 " Oh, Jasus ! gentlemen ! Pace for the sake 
 of the blessed mother ! " cried the butler from 
 below. 
 
 " Father, jewel. Terence, my only love ! " 
 screamed Miss Biddy, over the staircase. — 
 " What is the matter!" 
 
 " He wants to be off," roared the quarter- 
 master. 
 
 " Stop, Terence, or you'll have my life to 
 answer for." 
 
 " Lord, Biddy, how fat you are grown !" 
 
 " You shall fulfil your promise," cried Roger, 
 " or I'll write to the Horse Guards, and memo- 
 rial the commander-in-chief." 
 
 " You may memorial your best friend, the 
 devil, you old crimp," — and I forced my way to 
 the hall. 
 
 " Come back, you deceiver I' 1 exclaimed Miss 
 Maginn. 
 
 " Arrah, Biddy, go tighten yourself," said I. 
 
 " Oh ! I'm fainting ! " screamed Roger's 
 heiress.
 
 WOULD HAVE MARRIED IF HE COULD. 151 
 
 " Don't let him out !" roared her sire. 
 
 The gentleman with the beef-s-teak collar made 
 a demonstration to interrupt my retreat, and in 
 return received a box in the ear that sent him 
 halfway down the kitchen stairs. 
 
 "There," I said, "give that to the old rogue, 
 your master, with my best compliments'' — and 
 bounding from the hall door, Biddy Maginn like 
 Lord Ullin's daughter, "was left lamenting!" 
 
 Well, there is no describing the rookaivn # a 
 blow up like this occasioned in a country town. 
 I was unmercifully quizzed ; but the quarter- 
 master and his heiress found it advisable to 
 abdicate. Roger removed his household goods 
 to the metropolis — Miss Biddy favoured him in 
 due time with a grandson ; and when I returned 
 from South America, I learned that " this lost 
 love of mine " had accompanied a Welsh lieute- 
 nant to the hymeneal altar, who not being " over 
 particular " about trifles, had obtained on the 
 
 * Anglice, confusion.
 
 152 CONFESSIONS OF A GENTLEMAN WHO 
 
 same morning a wife, an heir, and an estate — 
 with Roger's blessing into the bargain. 
 
 " Why, what a fool you were Terence" — said 
 O'Connor, " had you but taken fortune at the 
 flood, and made Miss Biddy Mrs. O'Shaugh- 
 nessy, what between cash and crimping, you 
 might have been now commanding a brigade." 
 
 " Ay — when you know how I failed twice 
 afterwards, you will admit that I have been an 
 unlucky suitor." 
 
 " What, two efforts more — and still doomed 
 to single blessedness ?" 
 
 " True enough ; — in our next bivouac I'll 
 give you the particulars. 'Tis late, — to roost 
 boys ! That hill was so infernally steep, that a 
 man might as well escalade a windmill — nobody 
 but the devil or Dick Magennis could climb it 
 without distress." 
 
 Wearied by the day's exertions, none of the 
 party objected to the gallant Major's proposition. 
 Quickly their simple resting-places were arranged 
 — and as quickly they were occupied. The light
 
 MOULD HAVE MARRIED IF HE COULD. 153 
 
 cavalry had long since detached their pickets — and 
 every necessary precaution had been taken to 
 guard against surprise. The hum from the distant 
 bivouacs became fainter — the fires sparkled more 
 brightly in the gloom — group after group be- 
 took themselves to sleep — the tattoo echoed 
 through the hills — " while the deep war-drain's 
 sound announced the close of day."
 
 NIGHT IN THE PYRENEES— THE MURDERED 
 SENTINEL— AND THE GUERILLA CHIEF. 
 
 From camp to camp, through the foul womb of night, 
 The hum of either army stilly sounds, 
 That the fix'd sentinels almost receive 
 The secret whispers of each other's watch. 
 
 King Henry V. 
 
 Who's there ? Stand, and unfold yourself. 
 
 Hamlet. 
 
 Go — get some water, 
 And wash this filthy witness from your hand. 
 
 Macbeth.
 
 157 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 NIGHT IN THE PYRENEES— THE MURDERED 
 SENTINEL— AND THE GUERILLA CHIEF. 
 
 It was a clear and starry night, the moon had 
 not risen, but the dark masses of mountain occu- 
 pied by the rival armies, was visible for many 
 a mile. An hundred thousand warriors were 
 stretched upon the adjacent hills, and yet there 
 were frequent intervals, when the rifle outpost 
 was silent as a hermit's cell. Few sounds rose 
 above the rush of the river, which swollen by the 
 heavy rains tumbled over a ridge of rock, and 
 deadened, in its roar of waters, noises that other- 
 wise would have fallen upon the car. Far off, 
 occasional sparkles from the watch-fires showed
 
 158 NIGHT IN THE PYRENEES. 
 
 the position of the more distant brigades, while 
 at times the sharp challenge and prompt reply 
 rose above the stillness of the night, and indicated 
 that the sentinels were on the alert, and the out- 
 post officer making his " lonely round." 
 
 The bridge where Major O'Connor with three 
 companies of his regiment was posted, was a pass 
 of considerable importance ; and, from the proxi- 
 mity of a French picket a vigilant look out was 
 indispensable. The severity of the weather, fa- 
 tiguing duty, and privations in food and shelter, 
 consequent on being cantoned in a mountain 
 position, had produced a partial discontent ; and 
 as great inducements to desert were offered by 
 French emissaries, who visited the bivouacs with 
 provisions, scarcely a night passed but some out- 
 post was found abandoned, and the sentry missing 
 when the relief came round. Of course an in- 
 creased vigilance on outlying services was ren- 
 dered necessary ; the pickets were cautioned to 
 be alert ; and the officers directed, by making 
 frequent and uncertain visits to the advanced
 
 NIGHT IN THE PYRENEES. 159 
 
 posts of their command, to satisfy themselves 
 that the sentries were on the qui vice ; thus 
 guarding against surprise from the enemy, and 
 making any attempt to quit the lines, without 
 observation, almost an impossibility to a deserter. 
 
 When so much regarding general safety and 
 prevention of crime depended on individual cha- 
 racter and conduct, officers were strictly enjoined, 
 when on duty at any advanced post, to place no 
 sentry contiguous to a French picket, in whose 
 steadiness the greatest confidence could not be 
 reposed. Only the bridge in front of the rifle 
 bivouac separated the troops that occupied it from 
 the French tirailleurs ; each of its extremities 
 was held by a rival sentinel. The respective 
 pickets were scarcely a pistol-shot asunder. It 
 was the most advanced, the most important of 
 the entire outposts, and none but an approved 
 soldier was ever placed upon the bridge after beat 
 of tattoo. 
 
 That an experienced and intelligent officer, like 
 the commandant of the rifles, should feel the
 
 160 NIGHT IN THE PYRENEES. 
 
 great responsibility of the duty he was intrusted 
 with, may be imagined, and at all hours of the 
 night he visited his sentries in person. It was 
 near morning, when silently rising from the bear- 
 skin on which he lay, he took his cloak and sabre, 
 and left the bivouac unnoticed by his sleeping 
 comrades, whose slumbers appeared as sound as 
 if the enemy were beyond the Pyrenees. 
 
 He paused at the door of the hovel, and for a 
 few moments gazed in silent admiration at the 
 strange and stupendous objects with which he 
 was on every side surrounded. In front, far as 
 the eye could range, the French and English 
 cantonments might be traced, as " fire answered 
 fire." Behind, a scene of Alpine magnificence 
 was displayed, grand and imposing beyond con- 
 ception. In the dim starlight, pile over pile, 
 the higher ridges of the Pyrenees rose, until they 
 lost their summits in the clouds ; while the lower 
 pinnacles, capped with snow, seemed spread 
 around in wild confusion, and assumed grotesque 
 and fanciful appearances, as the uncertain light
 
 NIGHT IN THE PYRENEES. 161 
 
 revealed or hid them. The deep repose of mid- 
 night — the immediate proximity of an enemy — ■ 
 the chance that the next sun would set upon a 
 field of slaughter, and that the unearthly still- 
 ness that reigned in these solitudes now, would, 
 in a few hours, be succeeded by the rush of 
 battle, and roar of red artillery — all weighed 
 upon the heart, and rendered this mountain night- 
 scene, even to a careless spirit, grand, solemn, 
 and imposing. 
 
 O'Connor found the picket duly vigilant, and 
 learned from the subaltern in command, that 
 the chain of sentries had been recently visited, 
 and all were found at their posts. The night, it 
 appeared, had passed without alarm, the French 
 bivouacs had been unusually quiet, and no move- 
 ment had been observed at the outposts, except 
 that occasioned by the ordinary reliefs along the 
 line. O'Connor inquired who had charge of the 
 bridge ; and when the sergeant named the man, 
 he determined to proceed thither before he re- 
 turned to his humble bearskin. 
 
 VOL. II. m
 
 162 NIGHT IN THE PYRENEES. 
 
 The sentry whose fidelity had excited the sus- 
 picion of his commanding officer, had more than 
 once proved himself a daring soldier; he had 
 volunteered two forlorn hopes, and was always 
 foremost when skirmishing with the French light 
 troops. But O'Connor, who carefully studied 
 the individual character of those placed under 
 him, had seen in the suspected man much to 
 dislike. In disposition he was dark, violent, and 
 unforgiving; and, even in his gallantry, there 
 was a reckless ferocity regarding human life, that 
 made his officers detest him. His dissipated 
 habits had barred him from promotion, and re- 
 peated breaches of discipline obliged his com- 
 mander to withhold the reward that otherwise his 
 acknowledged bravery must have won. 
 
 The connecting sentries were vigilant, and at 
 their posts ; but when O'Connor approached the 
 bridge, no challenge was given. His suspicions 
 were confirmed ; for on reaching the spot where 
 the sentinel was always placed, he found the 
 post unoccupied ; a rifle and appointments were
 
 NIGHT IN THE PYRENEES. 163 
 
 lying on the ground, and it was quite evident that 
 the late owner had gone over to the enemy. 
 
 This discovery mortified the soldier deeply. 
 Since the British army had entered the Pyrenees, 
 frequent as the offence had been, O'Connor had 
 not lost a single man by desertion. The occur- 
 rence was annoying, and he blamed himself for 
 not using greater circumspection. To prevent 
 any recurrence of the crime, he determined for 
 the future to double the sentries along the chain, 
 and as the time for relief was not distant, he 
 resolved to remain until it arrived, and watch the 
 bridge himself. 
 
 He took up the deserter's rifle, and ascertained 
 that it was primed and loaded. All was quiet — 
 every sound was hushed, or so faint as not to 
 be heard above the rushing of the waters. In 
 the clear starlight he could perceive the French 
 sentinel moving slowly backwards and forwards, 
 occasionally stopping to look over the battlement 
 of the bridge at the swollen river, as it forced its 
 current through the narrow arch ; and then re- 
 al 2
 
 164 NIGHT IN THE PYRENEES. 
 
 suming his measured step, humming some popular 
 canzonet, which he had first heard under a sunny 
 sky, and probahly from lips he loved. 
 
 Ten minutes had elapsed. O'Connor kept a 
 cautious guard, and in a short time the relief 
 might be expected. A noise from the further 
 side of the bridge suddenly arrested his attention. 
 The French sentry challenged — a voice replied — 
 and next moment a dark figure glided into the 
 light, and closed with the tirailleur. A brief 
 colloquy ensued, and the Frenchman appeared 
 not quite satisfied with his visiter, as he kept his 
 musket at the port, and remained some feet apart. 
 Was this man the deserter? — No. If surprise 
 were contemplated, he would have been retained 
 to guide the assailants. O'Connor strained eye 
 and ear in the direction, but the low and hurried 
 communication was drowned by the rushing of 
 the river, and it was impossible to conjecture 
 who the stranger was, or what might be his 
 errand. 
 
 A few minutes ended this uncertainty. Sud-
 
 THE MURDERED SENTINEL. 165 
 
 denly the unknown sprang within the sentry's 
 guard — a blow was struck — a loud exclamation, 
 and a deep groan succeeded, and then one figure 
 only was visible in the starlight. That was the 
 stranger's ! and at a rapid pace he crossed the 
 bridge, and confronted the English sentinel. 
 
 " Stand— or I'll fire!" 
 
 " Hold — for God's sake !" — replied a voice in 
 tolerable English. "I am a Spaniard, and a 
 friend." 
 
 But the sentinel was resolute. 
 
 " Friend or foe," he cried, " keep your dis- 
 tance." 
 
 " By Heaven ! " rejoined the Spaniard, " I 
 must and will cross over." 
 
 " One movement of hand or foot," returned 
 the sentry coolly, " and you are a dead man." 
 
 « Am I not a faithful ally ? What fear ye ?" 
 
 " I fear nothing," replied the English soldier. 
 
 " Have I not this moment rid you of an 
 enemy?" said the stranger.
 
 166 THE GUERILLA CHIEF. 
 
 " Then have you done a cowardly and mur- 
 derous action/' was the sentry's answer. 
 
 " I must pass — give way, or I'll force it." 
 
 " My finger is en the trigger," returned the 
 soldier. " Another step — another whisper — and 
 I'll send a bullet through your heart." 
 
 Both paused — and for half a minute neither 
 spoke. They stood almost within arm's length ; 
 the soldier with the rifle at his shoulder, the 
 Spaniard with a knife grasped firmly in a hand, 
 still reeking with the blood of the slaughtered 
 Frenchman. A noise was heard — the measured 
 steps of an advancing party approached, and in a 
 few moments the relief appeared upon the bridge, 
 and by O'Connor's orders secured the formidable 
 stranger. 
 
 The Spaniard offered no resistance. Two sen- 
 tinels were left at the deserted post, and the 
 relief, with their commandant and the prisoner, 
 returned to the outlying picket. Once only the 
 stranger spoke, and it was in reply to a com-
 
 THE GUERILLA CHIEF. 167 
 
 mand given to the guard to look to his safe 
 custody 
 
 «' Think ye," he said, " that I am likely to 
 return to the French outpost, and inform the 
 detachment that I stabbed their comrade to the 
 heart?" — and a loud laugh, as in derision, 
 accompanied the observation. 
 
 The dark mantillo in which the Spaniard was 
 enveloped, had hitherto concealed his person, 
 and in the waning starlight, nothing save a tall 
 figure and swarthy features could be discovered ; 
 but when, stopping before the fire around which 
 the picket were collected, the blaze revealed his 
 face, one glance assured O'Connor that his pri- 
 soner was no ordinary man. 
 
 The stranger was scarcely thirty, and were it 
 not for his stern and vindictive expression, his 
 face would have been singularly handsome. The 
 dark and brilliant eye sparkled from beneath a 
 brow which appeared to darken at the slightest 
 contradiction ; the nose was finely formed ; the
 
 168 THE GUERILLA CHIEF. 
 
 teeth white and regular, while coal-black hair 
 curling in rich profusion to his shoulders, and a 
 high and noble forehead, completed the outlines 
 of a countenance, that none could deny was hand- 
 some, but few would wish to look upon a second 
 time. 
 
 A trifling incident marked the character of the 
 stranger. The officer of the picket presented a 
 canteen to his commander, and then politely 
 offered it to the prisoner. He bowed, and put 
 forward his hand ; but the subaltern started — for 
 in the blaze he observed that it was discoloured 
 to the wrist. 
 
 " Are you hurt?" he said. " There is blood 
 upon your hand." 
 
 The Spaniard's lip curled in contempt. 
 
 " Ay, likely enough," he coolly answered. 
 Many a time the heart's blood of an enemy has 
 dyed these fingers deeper ; but it would be un- 
 civil to stain a friendly flask ; " and, stepping 
 aside, he rinsed his hands in a little rivulet that 
 
 a
 
 THE GUERILLA CHIEF. 169 
 
 rickled down a rock beside the watch-fire ; then 
 
 taking the canteen, he drank and returned it with 
 a bow. 
 
 " Are you the commandant at this fort?" he 
 inquired, as he turned to O'Connor. 
 
 " I am," was the reply. 
 
 " Your name, sir ?" 
 
 The soldier gave it. 
 
 " Indeed !" — exclaimed the Spaniard. " Are 
 you he who led the assault at Badajoz ?" 
 
 The soldier bowed, as he replied in the af- 
 firmative. 
 
 " Enough — I would speak with you aside ;" 
 and followed by O'Connor, he walked some dis- 
 tance from the watch-fire. 
 
 " You have seen me before," said the Spaniard 
 sharply. 
 
 " It is very possible," was the soldier's reply. 
 " Under which of the Spanish commanders have 
 you served ?" 
 
 " Under none," replied the stranger. 
 
 " Are you not a soldier, then ? Just now you
 
 170 THE GUERILLA CHIEF. 
 
 hinted that more than one Frenchman had fallen 
 b}' your hand." 
 
 " Yes ; some have perished by my hand, and 
 many a hundred by my order/' returned the 
 prisoner. 
 
 " Indeed ? May I inquire who it is that I am 
 addressing V 
 
 " Willingly. Heard ye ever the name of 
 Vicente Moreno mentioned? 1 '' asked the Spaniard. 
 
 " Moreno ? Him whom the French hanged 
 at Grenada, in the presence of his wife and 
 children." 
 
 "And" — continued the stranger interrupting 
 him — " whose last words to her he loved so ten- 
 derly were spoken from the scaffold, telling her to 
 return to her home, and teach her children to 
 follow the example of their father ; and if they 
 could not save their country, like him to die 
 for it." 
 
 " Yes, I recollect the occurrence well," replied 
 O'Connor. " It was the cruel murder of a brave 
 man, and awful was the retaliation it occasioned.'' 1
 
 THE GUERILLA CHIEF. 171 
 
 a 
 
 Ay,"" said the Spaniard — " the martyr of 
 liberty was well and speedily avenged. Before 
 the second moon rose above the grave of the 
 slaughtered soldier, seventy French captains were 
 shot like mangy hounds, by my order, in the 
 market-place at Marbella." 
 
 "Ha!" — exclaimed ^O 'Connor,' as he looked 
 keenly at the Spaniard — "am I then speaking 
 to—" 
 
 '* Moreno, the Guerilla, the younger brother 
 of him they murdered in the square of Grenada, 
 stands beside you." 
 
 O'Connor started ! " And was the assassin of 
 the French sentinel the far-famed chieftain of the 
 mountain bands of Ronda ? He whose exploits 
 wore rather the semblance of romance than the 
 colour of reality ; whose career had been so suc- 
 cessful and so sanguinary, that it was computed, 
 from the hour he devoted himself to avenge his bro- 
 ther's death, that more than two thousand French 
 had been slain by the bands he commanded !" 
 While O'Connor recollected the ruthless cha-
 
 172 THE GUERILLA CHIEF. 
 
 racter of this dreaded chief, all marvel at the 
 scene upon the bridge ceased; for to stab an 
 enemy who was in his way, wouM not be a consi- 
 deration of a pin's fee to one, who in cold blood 
 had shot his prisoners by the dozen. 
 
 " Doubtless you are both hungry and fatigued," 
 said the soldier, resuming his conversation with 
 the Guerilla. " Our bivouac is hard by, and, 
 such as it is, there we have food and shelter. 
 Will you accept what I can offer ?" 
 
 u Most willingly," replied Moreno ; " both 
 will be welcome. For thirty hours I have tasted 
 no food, and have been hiding in the rocks all 
 day, and travelling hard since sunset." 
 
 "You have then been engaged in some im- 
 portant enterprise V said the soldier. 
 
 " I have been occupied as I have ever been, 
 since I devoted myself to avenge my murdered 
 brother, and my enslaved country." 
 
 " In what, may I inquire?" said O'Connor. 
 
 " Doing a deed of desperate vengeance," re- 
 plied the Spaniard, in a deep voice that thrilled
 
 THE GUERILLA CHIEF. 173 
 
 to the heart, " Vengeance is what I think of 
 when awake — vengeance is what I dream of 
 sleeping !" 
 
 if Have you been harassing the enemy ?" 
 
 " I have," returned the Guerilla, " been doing 
 a deed that will carry terror to every Frenchman, 
 and make the usurper tremble, when the name of 
 Juan Moreno is pronounced. But I am weary ; 
 give me some food, and when I rest for a few 
 hours, if you will walk with me up the heights, I 
 will relate my last adventure." 
 
 " Come," said the soldier ; and leading the 
 way, he introduced the weary Spaniard to the 
 hut, struck a light, and placed before him the 
 best cheer a scanty larder could produce. 
 
 The Guerilla ate like one who had been for 
 many hours fasting, finished a flask of wine, and 
 then apologizing for keeping his host from his 
 repose, stretched himself beside the soldier's bear- 
 skin, and, as if in the full consciousness of secu- 
 rity, dropped into a sound sleep, which remained
 
 174 THE GUERILLA CHIEF. 
 
 unbroken until the reveillee disturbed the bivouac 
 at daybreak. 
 
 One circumstance struck O'Connor as being 
 remarkable. Wearied as the Guerilla was before 
 he lay down on his cloak, he took a crucifix from 
 his bosom, and repeated his prayers devoutly. 
 A hand, red with recent murder, punctiliously 
 let fall a bead at every are ; and when his orisons 
 were ended, he replaced the emblem of salvation, 
 which he appeared to venerate so much, within 
 the same breast where the knife, that had just 
 despatched two unsuspecting victims, was de- 
 posited.
 
 THE GUERILLA BIVOUAC— ANECDOTES OF 
 THEIR WARFARE AND LEADERS. 
 
 Othello. — O, that the slave had forty thousand lives, 
 One is too poor, too weak for my revenge ! 
 
 Shakspeabe.
 
 177 
 
 CHAPTER VIIL 
 
 THE GUERILLA BIVOUAC. 
 
 When the drum beat, Moreno started from 
 his humble bed, and for a moment stared wildly 
 round at the inmates of the hovel, who were all 
 in motion at " the loud alarum" of the reveillee. 
 O'Connor observed that even then his matins 
 were not forgotten, and a hurried prayer was 
 muttered ere he rose. Beckoning the soldier to 
 follow, the Spaniard bowed courteously to all 
 around, and then, wrapped in his mantillo, slowly 
 proceeded towards the upper heights. 
 
 VOL. II. N
 
 178 THE GUERILLA BIVOUAC. 
 
 After an hour's ascent, which to O'Connor was 
 particularly tiresome, but to the Guerilla easy as 
 if he journeyed on a plain, they stepped upon a 
 plateau among the hills, which overlooked the 
 English and French positions. To the soldier's 
 astonishment, Aloreno pointed out the stations of 
 the enemy's corps with surprising accuracy, and 
 named the commanders, and numerical force of 
 each brigade. Once or twice he referred to a 
 written document, taken from his pocket, which 
 was evidently a French despatch. After a short 
 halt, he rose from the rock he had been sitting 
 on, intimating it was time to continue his route, 
 and invited O'Connor to keep him company for 
 another mile. 
 
 The soldier assented, and striking into a path 
 rendered difficult by the obstruction of a fall of 
 snow, the Guerilla led the way with the precision 
 of one perfectly familiar with the localities of the 
 mountains, until, in the bosom of a deep ravine, 
 they suddenly found themselves in the centre of 
 a band of independents.
 
 THE GUERILLA BIVOUAC. 179 
 
 The appearance of this formidable body was 
 far more picturesque than military. They might 
 have numbered one hundred, and all were armed 
 and equipped according to individual fancy. Some 
 were showily attired — others slovenly to a de- 
 gree ; and dresses of rich velvet were singularly 
 contrasted with the coarser clothes worn by the 
 peasantry of Andalusia. They looked more like a 
 banditti than an organized baud; but their horses 
 were in excellent condition, and their arms of 
 the best kind, and perfectly effective. The 
 single word "my friend," obtained for the visiter 
 a rapturous welcome ; and a brief description of 
 their rencounter on the bridge, which O'Connor 
 overheard repeated by the Guerilla, seemed to 
 recommend him to the troop, as a fitting comrade 
 for their bold and reckless leader. 
 
 There was in the whole system of Guerilla 
 warfare a wild and romantic character, which, 
 could its cruelty have been overlooked, would 
 have rendered it both chivalrous and exciting. 
 Men totally unfitted by previous habits and edu- 
 
 n 2
 
 180 THE GUERILLA BIVOUAC. 
 
 cation suddenly appeared upon the stage, and 
 developed talent and determination that made 
 them the scourge and terror of the invaders. 
 But theirs was a combat of extermination — none 
 of those courtesies, which render modern warfare 
 endurable, were granted to their opponents — the 
 deadliest hostility was unmitigated by success — 
 and, when vanquished, expecting no quarter from 
 the French, they never thought of extending it 
 to those who unfortunately became their prisoners. 
 A sanguinary struggle was raging ; and va victis 
 seemed, with " war to the knife," to be the only 
 mottos of the Guerilla. 
 
 The strange exploits of many of these daring 
 partisans, though true to the letter, are perfectly 
 romantic ; and the patient endurance, the deep 
 artifice, with which their objects were effected, 
 appear to be almost incredible. Persons, whose 
 ages and professions were best calculated to evade 
 suspicion, were invariably their chosen agents. 
 The village priest was commonly a confederate of 
 the neighbouring Guerilla — the postmaster be-
 
 THE GUERILLA BIVOUAC. 181 
 
 trayed the intelligence that reached him in his 
 office — the fairest peasant of Estremadura would 
 tempt the thoughtless soldier with her beauty, 
 and decoy him within range of the bullet — and 
 even childhood was frequently and successfully 
 employed in leading the unsuspecting victim into 
 some pass or ambuscade, where the knife or 
 musket closed his earthly career. 
 
 In every community, however fierce and law- 
 less, different gradations of good and evil will be 
 discovered, and nothing could be more opposite 
 than the feelings and actions of some of the 
 Guerillas and their leaders. Many of these des- 
 perate bands were actuated in every enterprise by 
 a love of bloodshed and spoliation, and their own 
 countrymen suffered as heavily from their rapacity, 
 as their enemies from their swords. Others took 
 the field from nobler motives : an enthusiastic 
 attachment to their country and religion roused 
 them into vengeance against a tyranny which had 
 become insufferable — every feeling but ardent 
 patriotism was forgotten — private and dearer ties
 
 182 THE GUERILLA BIVOUAC. 
 
 were snapped asunder — homes, and wives, and 
 children were abandoned — privations that appear 
 almost incredible were patiently endured, until 
 treachery delivered them to the executioner, or in 
 some wild attempt they were overpowered by 
 numbers, and died resisting to the last. 
 
 Dreadful as the retaliation was which French 
 cruelty and oppression had provoked, the Guerilla 
 vengeance against domestic treachery was neither 
 less certain or less severe. To collect money or 
 supplies for the invaders, convey any information, 
 conceal their movements, and not betray them 
 when opportunity occurred, was death to the 
 offender. Sometimes the delinquent was brought 
 with considerable difficulty and risk before a 
 neighbouring tribunal, and executed with all the 
 formalities of justice ; but generally a more sum- 
 mary vengeance was exacted, and the traitor was 
 sacrificed upon the spot. In these cases neither 
 calling nor age was respected. If found false to 
 his country, the sanctity of his order was no pro- 
 tection to the priest. The daughter of the Col-
 
 THE GUERILLA BIVOUAC. 183 
 
 lector of Almagro, for professing attachment to 
 the usurper, was stabbed by Urena to the heart; 
 and a secret correspondence, between the wife of 
 the Alcalde of Birhueda and the French general 
 in the next command, having been detected by an 
 intercepted despatch, the wretched woman, by 
 order of Juan Martin Diez, the Empecinado, 
 was dragged by a Guerilla party from her house, 
 her hair shaven, her denuded person tarred and 
 feathered and disgracefully exhibited in the public 
 market-place — and she was then put to death 
 amid the execrations of her tormentors. Nor 
 was there any security for a traitor, even were his 
 residence in the capital, or almost within the camp 
 of the enemy. One of the favourites of Joseph 
 Bonaparte, Don Jose Rigo, was torn from his 
 home in the suburbs of Madrid, while celebrating 
 his wedding, by the Empecinado, and hanged in 
 the square [of Cadiz. The usurper himself, on 
 two occasions, narrowly escaped from this des- 
 perate partisan. Dining at Almeda, some two 
 leagues distance from the capital, with one of the
 
 184 THE GUERILLA BIVOUAC. 
 
 generals of division, their hilarity was suddenly 
 interrupted by the unwelcome intelligence that 
 the Empecinado was at hand, and nothing but a 
 hasty retreat preserved the pseudo king from 
 capture. On another occasion, he was surprised 
 upon the Guadalaxara road, and so rapid was the 
 Guerilla movement, so determined their pursuit, 
 that before the French could be succoured by the 
 garrison of Madrid, forty of the royal escort were 
 sabred between Torrejon and El Molar. 
 
 A war of extermination raged, and on both 
 sides blood flowed in torrents. One act of cruelty 
 was as promptly answered by another ; and a 
 Erench decree, ordering that every Spaniard 
 taken in arms should be executed, appeared to 
 be a signal to the Guerillas to exclude from mercy 
 every enemy who fell into their hands. The 
 Erench had shown the example ; the Junta were 
 denounced, their houses burne d,and their wives 
 and children driven to the woods. If prisoners 
 received quarter in the field — if they fell lame 
 upon the march, or the remotest chance of a rescue
 
 THE GUERILLA BIVOUAC. 185 
 
 appeared — they were shot like clogs ; others were 
 butchered in the towns, their bodies left rottirif 
 on the highways, and their heads exhibited on 
 poles. That respect, which even the most de- 
 praved of men usually pay to female honour, was 
 shamefully disregarded ; and more than one Spa- 
 niard, like the postmaster of Medina, was driven 
 to the most desperate courses, by the violation of 
 a wife and the murder of a child. 
 
 It would be sickening to describe the horrid 
 scenes which mutual retaliation produced. Several 
 of the Empecinado's followers, who were surprised 
 in the mountains of Guadarama, were nailed to 
 the trees, and left there to expire slowly by 
 hunger and thirst. To the same trees, before a 
 week elapsed, a similar number of French soldiers 
 were affixed by the Guerillas. Two of the inha- 
 bitants of Madrid, who were suspected of com- 
 municating with the brigands, as the French 
 termed the armed Spaniards, were tried by 
 court-martial, and executed at their own door. 
 The next morning six of the garrison were seen
 
 186 THE GUERILLA BIVOUAC. 
 
 hanging from walls beside the high road. Some 
 females related to Palarea, surnamed the Medico, 
 had been abused most scandalously by the escort 
 of a convoy, who had seized them in a wood ; 
 and in return the Guerilla leader drove into an 
 errnida eighty Frenchmen and their officers, set 
 fire to the thatch, and burned them to death, or 
 shot them in their endeavours to leave the blazing 
 chapel. Such were the dreadful enormities a 
 system of retaliation caused. 
 
 These desperate adventurers were commanded 
 by men of the most dissimilar professions. All 
 were distinguished by some sobriquet, and these 
 were of the most opposite descriptions. Among 
 the leaders were friars and physicians, cooks and 
 artisans, while some were characterized by a 
 deformity, and others named after the form of 
 their waistcoat or hat. Worse epithets described 
 many of the minor chiefs — truculence and spo- 
 liation obtained them titles ; and, strange as it 
 may appear, the most ferocious band that infested 
 Biscay, was commanded by a woman named
 
 THE GUERILLA BIVOUAC. 187 
 
 Martina. So indiscriminating and unrelenting 
 was this female monster in her murder of friends 
 and foes, that Mina was obliged to direct his 
 force against her. She was surprised, with the 
 greater portion of her banditti, and the whole 
 were shot upon the spot. 
 
 Of all the Guerilla leaders the two Minas were 
 the most remarkable for their daring, their talents, 
 and their successes. The younger, Xavier, had 
 a short career, but nothing could be more chival- 
 rous and romantic than many of the incidents 
 that marked it. His band amounted to a thou- 
 sand, and with this force he kept Navarre, Biscay, 
 and Aragon, in confusion ; intercepted convoys, 
 levied contributions, plundered the custom- 
 houses, and harassed the enemy incessantly. The 
 villages were obliged to furnish rations for his 
 troops, and the French convoys supplied him 
 with money and ammunition. His escapes were 
 often marvellous. He swam flooded rivers deemed 
 impassable, and climbed precipices hitherto un- 
 traversed by a human foot. Near Estella he was
 
 188 THE GL'ERILLA BIVOUAC. 
 
 forced by numbers to take refuge on a lofty rock ; 
 the only accessible side he defended till night- 
 fall, when lowering himself and followers by a 
 rope, he brought his party off with scarcely the 
 loss of a man. 
 
 This was among his last exploits ; for when- re- 
 connoitring by moonlight, in the hope of cap- 
 turing a valuable convoy, he fell unexpectedly 
 into the hands of an enemy's patrol. Proscribed 
 by the French as a bandit, it was surprising that 
 his life was spared; but his loss to the Guerillas 
 was regarded as a great misfortune. 
 
 While disputing as to the choice of a leader, 
 where so many aspired to a command to which 
 each offered an equal claim, an adventurer worthy 
 to succeed their lost chief was happily discovered 
 in his uncle, the elder Mina. Educated as a 
 husbandman, and scarcely able to read or write, 
 the new leader had lived in great retirement, 
 until the Junta's call to arms induced him to join 
 his nephew's band. He reluctantly acceded to 
 the general wish to become Xavier Mina's sue-
 
 THE GUERILLA BIVOUAC. 189 
 
 cessor, but when lie assumed the command, his 
 firm and daring character was rapidly developed. 
 Echeverria, with a strong following, had started 
 as a rival chief; but Mina surprised him— had 
 three of his subordinates shot with their leader — 
 and united the remainder of the band with his 
 own. Although he narrowly escaped from becom- 
 ing a victim to the treachery of a comrade, the 
 prompt and severe justice with which he visited 
 the offender, effectually restrained other adven- 
 turers from making any similar attempt. 
 
 The traitor was a sergeant of his own, who, 
 from the bad expression of his face, had received 
 among his companions the sobriquet of Malca- 
 rado. Discontented with the new commander, 
 he determined to betray him to the enemy, and 
 concerted measures with Pannetia, whose brigade 
 was near the village of Robres, to surprise the 
 Guerilla chieftain in his bed. Partial success 
 attended the treacherous attempt ; but Mina de- 
 fended himself desperately with the bar of the 
 door, and kept the French at bay till Gastra, his
 
 190 THE GUERILLA BIVOUAC. 
 
 chosen comrade, assisted him to escape. The 
 Guerilla rallied his followers, repulsed the enemy, 
 took Malcarado, and shot him instantly, while the 
 village cure and three al cades implicated in the 
 traitorous design, were hanged side by side upon 
 a tree, and their houses razed to the ground. 
 
 An example of severity like this gave confi- 
 dence to his own followers, and exacted submis- 
 sion from the peasantry. Every where Mina had 
 a faithful spy — every movement of the enemy 
 was reported — and if a village magistrate received 
 a requisition from a French commandant, it was 
 communicated to the Guerilla chief with due 
 despatch, or wo to the alcalde that neglected it. 
 
 Nature had formed Mina for the service to 
 which he had devoted himself. His constitution 
 was equal to every privation and fatigue, and his 
 courage was of that prompt and daring character, 
 that no circumstance, however sudden and dis- 
 heartening, could overcome. Careless as to dress 
 or food, he depended for a change of linen on the 
 capture of French baggage, or any accidental
 
 THE GUERILLA BIVOUAC. 191 
 
 supply; and for days he would exist upon a few- 
 biscuits, or any thing which chance threw in his 
 road. He guarded carefully against surprise — 
 slept with a dagger and pistols in his girdle — and 
 such were his active habits, that he rarely took 
 more than two hours of repose. The mountain 
 caverns were the depositories of his ammunition 
 and plunder ; and in a mountain fastness he esta- 
 blished an hospital for his wounded, to which 
 they were carried in litters across the heights, and 
 placed in perfect safety, until their cure could be 
 completed. Gaming and plunder were prohibited, 
 and even love forbidden, lest the Guerilla might 
 be too communicative to the object of his affec- 
 tion, and any of his chieftain's secrets should 
 transpire. 
 
 Of the minor chiefs many strange and chival- 
 rous adventures are on record. The daring plans, 
 often tried and generally successful, and the hair- 
 breadth escapes of several, are almost beyond 
 belief. No means, however repugnant to the 
 laws of modern warfare, were unemployed ; wliile
 
 192 THE GUERILLA BIVOUAC. 
 
 the ingenuity with which intelligence of a hostile 
 movement was transmitted — the artifice with 
 which an enemy was delayed, until he could be 
 surrounded or surprised, appear incredible. Of 
 individual ferocity a few instances will be suf- 
 ficient. At the execution of an alcalde and his 
 son at Mondragon, the old man boasted that two 
 hundred French had perished by their hands ; 
 and the Chaleco, Francis Moreno, in a record of 
 his services, boasts of his having waited for a 
 cavalry patrol in a ravine, and, by the discharge 
 of a huge blunderbuss loaded nearly to the 
 muzzle, dislocated his own shoulder, and killed 
 or wounded nine of the French. The same chief 
 presented to Villafranca a rich booty of plate and 
 quicksilver, but he added to the gift a parcel of 
 ears cut from the prisoners whom on that occasion 
 he had slaughtered. 
 
 Profiting by the anarchy that reigned in tins 
 afflicted country, wretches, under political ex- 
 cuses, committed murder and devastation on a 
 scale of frightful magnitude. One, pretending
 
 THE GUERILLA BIVOUAC. 193 
 
 to be a functionary of the junta, made Ladrada a 
 scene of bloodshed. By night his victims were 
 despatched ; and to the disgrace of woman, his 
 wife was more sanguinary than himself. Castanos 
 at length arrested their blood-stained career ; and 
 Pedrazeula was hanged and beheaded, and Maria, 
 his infamous confederate, garotted. 
 
 Castile was overrun by banditti ; and one 
 gang, destroyed by a Guerilla chief named Juan 
 Abril, had accumulated plunder, principally in 
 specie, amounting in value to half a million 
 reales. One of the band, when captured by the 
 French, to save his life discovered the secret, and 
 offered to lead a party to the place where the 
 treasure was deposited. His proposal was ac- 
 cepted. An alguazil, with an escort of cavalry, 
 proceeded to the wood of Villa Viciosa, and there 
 booty was found worth more than the value 
 affixed to it by the deserter. Returning in un- 
 suspecting confidence, the party were drawn into 
 an ambuscade by the Medico, who had been 
 acquainted with the expedition ; and of the escort 
 
 VOL. II. o
 
 194 THE GUERILLA BIVOUAC. 
 
 and officials, with the exception of five who 
 managed to escape, every one was butchered 
 without mercy. 
 
 Such were the wild and relentless foes to whom 
 the invaders were exposed — such were the Spa- 
 niards, who had made themselves remarkable for 
 patriotism and endurance — surpassing courage 
 and unmitigated cruelty. In those around him 
 O'Connor looked upon men who, through the 
 whole Peninsular struggle, had carried terror with 
 their names, and in the leader, who was standing 
 beside him apart from the band, he recognised a 
 chieftain, in whose breast, if report were true, 
 fear and compassion were equally extinguished.
 
 EL MANCO— A GUERILLA BREAKFAST. 
 
 •2d Murderer. I'm one, my liege, 
 
 Whom the vile blows and buffets of the world 
 Have so incens'd, that I am reckless what 
 I do, to spite the world. 
 
 1st Murderer. And I another, 
 
 So weary with disasters, tusir'd with fortune, 
 That I would set my life on any chance, 
 To mend it, or be rid on't. 
 
 Shakspeare. 
 
 O 'Z
 
 197 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 A GUERILLA BREAKFAST. 
 
 a 
 
 What think you of my band?" said the 
 Guerilla leader to Major O'Connor, as he observed 
 the soldier's eye examining the formidable troop, 
 who were preparing their breakfast in the valley 
 below the rock to which Moreno and his compa- 
 nion had removed. " Compared with your own 
 beautiful and efficient regiment, what a wretched 
 rabble my wild followers must appear !" 
 
 " Far from it, my friend,"" replied the soldier. 
 " Their clothing and appointments are certainly 
 irregular, and one who looked to dresses, and not 
 the men who wore them, might hold your band
 
 198 A GUERILLA BREAKFAST. 
 
 in slight estimation. Your followers appear ac- 
 tive and determined soldiers, and some of them 
 the finest fellows I have ever seen." 
 
 The Guerilla seemed pleased with the approba- 
 tion his troop received from O'Connor. 
 
 "And yet," he said, "the youngest and the 
 most powerful are not those who have shed most 
 blood, or wreaked the deepest vengeance on our 
 common enemy. The weakest arm is sometimes 
 united to the strongest heart ; and while our 
 morning meal is in preparation, I will point out 
 to you the most remarkable among my com- 
 rades." 
 
 " Nothing would give me greater pleasure," 
 said the soldier. ci Many of their histories must 
 be singular indeed." 
 
 " Yes," replied the Guerilla; (l there are among 
 my followers men who have met with strange 
 adventures, and whose lives commenced very 
 differently to the manner in which it is now most 
 probable they will close. Injury and outrage 
 forced most of them to take up arms ; and had
 
 A GUERILLA BREAKFAST. 199 
 
 not the oppressors crossed these mountains, they 
 would have worn their lives away in their native val- 
 leys, as peaceful vinedressers or contented artisans. 
 Mark you that old man leaning against a rock ?'' 
 
 '« I do," returned the soldier. " The grey hair 
 and diminutive person would lead one to reckon 
 him the least formidable of your companions. 11 
 
 The chief smiled. 
 
 " Is there any thing beside, which strikes you 
 in him as remarkable?" 
 
 " I observe,' 1 returned the soldier, " that he is 
 provided with a musket of unusual length. 11 
 
 " And," continued the Guerilla, " one arm is 
 lame, from whence he has obtained the surname 
 of El Manco. Many an enemy has perished by 
 that old man' s hand — many a French heart the 
 bullets from that gun have searched." 
 
 « Indeed ?" 
 
 " Yes, 11 said the chief. " El Manco was wan- 
 tonly injured, but he was as desperately avenged. 
 There was not a more peaceable peasant in Cas- 
 tile. He occupied the cottage where his parents
 
 200 A GUERILLA BREAKFAST. 
 
 had lived and died, and laboured in the same 
 farm which his forefathers had tilled for centuries. 
 His home was in a sequestered valley among the 
 hills, and its remoteness might have been expected 
 to secure the humble owner from the insidts of 
 an invader. But no — where is the wood or dell 
 so retired, that it has escaped the cruelty and 
 rapacity of the oppressors ? 
 
 " Late one evening a small party of French 
 dragoons appeared unexpectedly among the moun- 
 tains ; and the secluded valley where El Manco 
 dwelt was soon discovered by these marauders. 
 They approached the old man's cottage, were 
 civilly received, accommodated with food and 
 wine, their horses supplied with corn, and all that 
 submissive peasants could do to propitiate their 
 clemency was tried. How was El Manco 's hos- 
 pitality returned ? He had no gold to tempt their 
 cupidity, and in his peaceful occupation and feeble 
 strength, there was no plea to excite apprehension 
 or justify severity. ]?ut he was a husband 
 and a father. His wife retained some portion of
 
 A GUERILLA BREAKFAST. 201 
 
 her former beauty ; and his daughters, only 
 verging upon womanhood, were singularly hand- 
 some. Morning had just dawned — the order to 
 march was given, and the unhappy family sup- 
 posing that, pleased with the civility they had 
 experienced through the night, the marauders 
 would take a friendly leave, came forward to say 
 farewell. Half the party mounted, when, on a 
 signal from their officer, a dozen ruffians seized 
 on the peasant's daughters, and placed them 
 before two dragoons. In vain the astonished 
 mother clung wildly to one of her beloved ones— 
 in vain the father rushed upon the horseman who 
 held the other. He was maimed for life by a 
 sword-cut, and his wife was savagely shot by the 
 horseman, from whose ruffian grasp she had 
 striven to extricate her child. Wounded and 
 bewildered, El Manco leaned over the dying 
 woman. In a few minutes she breathed her last, 
 and her groans mingled with her daughters' 
 shrieks, as they came at intervals from the moun- 
 
 •
 
 202 A GUERILLA BREAKFAST. 
 
 tains, over which the ravishers were carrying 
 them. 
 
 " For three months El Manco remained an idiot, 
 and during that time no tidings of his children 
 could be obtained. At length they returned to 
 their once happy and innocent home; — one only 
 to die, the other to exist dishonoured. The story 
 of their wrongs seemed to rouse their wretched 
 father — memory came back — he swore eternal, 
 implacable revenge, and quitted his native valley 
 for ever. His only arms were the gun you see, 
 and the knife he carries in his bosom. Bred a 
 hunter in his youth, he was an excellent marks- 
 man, and his intimate knowledge of the mountain 
 district, facilitated his efforts at vengeance. 
 Placing himself in ambush beside a pass, he 
 would wait for days and nights with patient vigi- 
 lance, until some straggling enemy came within 
 range of his musket ; and an unerring bullet 
 conveyed to the dying Frenchman, the first inti- 
 mation that danger was at hand. Numerous
 
 A GUERILLA BREAKFAST. 203 
 
 parties were constantly sent out to apprehend the 
 dreaded brigand. Frequently they found El 
 Manco in the forest, to all appearance peaceably 
 employed in cutting wood ; and deceived by his 
 age, the simplicity of his answers, and his feeble- 
 ness, they were contented with seeking informa- 
 tion, to enable them to apprehend the criminal. 
 Accident at last betrayed El Manco's secret ; but 
 before the discovery was made, more than sixty 
 Frenchmen had fallen by the hand of that maimed 
 and powerless being. Of course, he was obliged 
 to fly, and since that time he has attached him- 
 self to the party I command." 
 
 " It is a strange tale, certainly," said the 
 soldier; "and to look at El Manco, none could 
 suppose him to be capable of such desperate 
 retaliation." 
 
 " It shows," replied the Spaniard, " that the 
 humblest individual, when wantonly abused, has 
 means sufficient for revenge, if he has only 
 courage to make the essay. Did you know the 
 private histories of this band, half the number of
 
 204 A GUERILLA BREAKFAST. 
 
 those who fill my ranks have been forced there 
 by injury and oppression. War drove them from 
 more peaceful vocations, and want obliged them 
 to adopt a course of life, for which, under other 
 circumstances, they had neither inclination nor 
 ability. When the noble refused to submit to 
 the thrall of a foreign despot, and was beggared 
 by the spoliations of the tyrant's minions, those 
 who depended on him as retainers shared in the 
 ruin of their protector. The hildalgo was driven 
 from his hereditary estate, the farmer had his 
 crops cut down, and his vineyard and olive- 
 ground devastated. The labourer lacked his 
 wonted occupation, and flung the implements of 
 husbandry away, to take up knife and musket. 
 Keligious houses were suppressed — the monk 
 was ejected from his seclusion— he entered at 
 manhood upon a world he was unused to — death 
 was the penalty of wearing his sacred habit — 
 and the priest's cassock was exchanged for the 
 Guerilla cloak. Look over yonder troop, and 
 there every calling will be found — every grada-
 
 A GUERILLA BREAKFAST. 20-5 
 
 tion of rank — from the ruined noble to the 
 bankrupt tradesman. — But here comes breakfast. 
 Last night, major, you and I were like enough 
 to prove the temper of the knife — this morning 
 ■we'll employ it for friendlier purposes." 
 
 The Guerilla's meal was a strange melange. 
 There was broiled mutton, an English ham, a 
 flask of superior wine, French biscuits, rye bread, 
 and two or three nameless culinary preparations. 
 Every thing was served in plate ; and dish, cup, 
 and spoon were all of massive silver. The Spa- 
 niard smiled at O'Connor's astonishment. 
 
 " You see how we mountain soldiers live. 
 England and France, Italy and Spain, have fur- 
 nished materials for our breakfast ; and these 
 silver vessels, but a short time since, were ranged 
 upon a royal sideboard. In truth, my friend, we 
 are indebted for them all to El Rey Jose. I 
 picked up a part of the baggage at Vittoria, and 
 we have made free with viands provided for the 
 usurper, but which the chance of war gave to
 
 206 A GUERILLA BREAKFAST. 
 
 honester men — you and me. Drink — that wine 
 is excellent. An hour hence we march ; and if 
 you please it, to fill up the interval, I will tell 
 you some adventures of my own."
 
 CONFESSIONS OF A GUERILLA. 
 
 Vengeance, deep brooding o'er the slain, 
 Had locked the source of softer wo ; 
 
 And burning pride, and high disdain, 
 Forbade the rising tear to flow. 
 
 Lay of the Last ]\Tinstrel.
 
 209 
 
 CHAPTER X 
 
 CONFESSIONS OF A GUERILLA. 
 
 I am the youngest son of an old soldier. My 
 mother died while I was an infant ; and my 
 father, after serving in the Royal Guard for thirty 
 years, quitted the corps from ill health — retired 
 to his native village — and, on his pension and 
 paternal estate, lived hospitably, until, at a good 
 old age, he slipped away calmly from the world, 
 respected and regretted by all who knew him. 
 
 There were twenty years between Vicente, my 
 elder brother, and myself. At our father's death 
 he was a man, and I but a schoolboy. Although 
 left an orphan, I had no destitution to complain 
 
 VOL. II. p
 
 210 CONFESSIONS OF A GUERILLA. 
 
 of; Vicente was the best of brothers — he treated 
 me with parental tenderness — watched over my 
 education — directed my studies — and, when I 
 arrived at that time of life when a profession 
 should be selected, he procured for me an ap- 
 pointment in the capital, and allotted me a liberal 
 portion of his income, to enable me to maintain 
 myself as a gentleman, until, by the routine of 
 office, I should obtain some more lucrative post. 
 Never was a man less adapted by nature for a life 
 of rapine and bloodshed than I. My disposition 
 was quiet and contemplative — books were my 
 chief delight — I read much — and, not contented 
 with the literature of Spain, applied myself to 
 learn the languages of modern Europe, and ac- 
 quired a sufficient knowledge of French and 
 English, which enabled me to speak both with 
 tolerable fluency. Such were my earlier habits 
 and pursuits ; and at twenty-two none could have 
 supposed it possible, that, in a few brief months, 
 the peaceful student of Madrid should become 
 the brigand chief of Ronda.
 
 CONFESSIONS OF A GUERILLA. 211 
 
 The director of the office, to which I was 
 attached, was a man of noble descent and amiable 
 character. He was called Don Jose Miranda. 
 His place was very lucrative ; and as he had a 
 small estate, and was a widower with but one 
 child, it was believed that the young Catalina 
 would inherit, at her father's death, a very con- 
 siderable fortune 
 
 The director appeared partial to me from the 
 beginning — took pains in teaching me the duties 
 of the office — showed me every civility in his 
 power — and frequently brought me to his house, 
 a villa, pleasantly situated at about a league's 
 distance from the city. There I passed many a 
 happy hour — for there I first became acquainted 
 with Catalina. 
 
 I saw and loved her. You. a soldier from boy- 
 hood, who, haply, know the passion but by 
 name, would smile at the weakness I must con- 
 fess, did I own the ardour, the devotion, with 
 which my heart worshipped the director's daughter. 
 
 Who could look on Catalina and remain un- 
 
 r2
 
 212 COXFESSIOXS OF A GUERILLA. 
 
 moved? She was then scarcely sixteen, and just 
 springing into womanhood, with all the charms 
 that render beauty irresistible. Then I was dif- 
 ferent from what I now am — care had not settled 
 on my brow — this hand was unstained with 
 blood — this heart was not wrung by injury and 
 insult — this bosom was not burning with revenge. 
 Then no anxieties disturbed it; and all it throbbed 
 for was the object of its love — the young, the 
 peerless Catalina. 
 
 I did not sue in vain. My mistress listened to 
 my declaration of attachment with evident plea- 
 sure — and I was accepted. The director, when 
 a female relative who superintended his house- 
 hold affairs and the education of Catalina in- 
 formed him of our liaison, expressed no dissatis- 
 faction ; on the contrary his kindness towards me 
 appeared increased. 
 
 Months passed over — my love became more 
 ardent and engrossing — and, unable to endure a 
 longer suspense, 1 obtained Catalina's consent to 
 demand her hand irom the director, and formally
 
 CONFESSIONS OF A GUERILLA. 213 
 
 made the necessary communication. He heard 
 me, and objected only to the want of a sufficient 
 fortune on ray part ; but, at the same time, he 
 proposed to remedy that evil. He was becoming 
 old — the state of political affairs was more than 
 threatening — a national convulsion was at hand — 
 he wished to retire from official labour — and, he 
 said, that he would signify his intention to the 
 government, and obtain the appointment for me. 
 
 It was done. His application was favourably 
 received — and it was duly intimated by the mini- 
 ster of finance that I should be Don Jose's suc- 
 cessor. All objection to my union with Catalina 
 was removed, and the day was named on which 
 she was to become my wife. 
 
 The revolution broke out suddenly — events 
 were hurried to a rapid crisis — the French occu- 
 pied Madrid — and every department of the exe- 
 cutive was thrown into confusion. In all the 
 state offices persons suspected of attachment to 
 their lawful king, became obnoxious to the 
 usurper; they were unceremoniously discarded,
 
 214 CONFESSIONS OF A GUERILLA. 
 
 and the minions of the invader substituted in 
 their stead. I had no fancy for political intrigues, 
 consequently I had never been a partisan, and it 
 might have been supposed that I should have 
 escaped the wrath of the despot; but, before I 
 suspected danger, an event occurred which over- 
 turned all my hopes, and rendered me for ever a 
 wretched and a ruined man. 
 
 Driven to madness by foreign oppression, the 
 peasantry of Andalusia had broken into insurrec- 
 tion, and declared deadly hostility to the invaders. 
 Valdenebro appeared at their head — while my 
 brother Vicente joined the mountaineers of 
 Ronda as their leader. Before any intelligence 
 reached me of these events, a great portion of my 
 native province was in arms ; and an enemy's 
 detachment, which had imprudently advanced 
 into the mountains, became entangled in a defile, 
 and were cut off to a man, by a sudden attack 
 made upon them by the Moreno. 
 
 I was at the director's villa, and, ignorant of 
 this occurrence, was seated beside my beloved
 
 CONFESSIONS OF A GUERILLA. 215 
 
 Catalina — my arm was around her waist, her 
 head was resting on my bosom, and her dark and 
 sparkling eyes turned upon mine, as, in playful 
 raillery, she taxed me with some fanciful offence. 
 A bustle without, a tramping of feet and ringing 
 of spurs, was heard along the paved corridor. 
 Presently the door was thrown open, and a French 
 officer of dragoons strode haughtily across the 
 chamber, while his orderly remained standing in 
 the doorway. I sprang up, placed myself be- 
 tween Catalina and the intruder, and demanded 
 his name and business. He smiled ironically. 
 
 u I am called Henri de Blondville," he said, 
 " a captain of hussars ; and you, if I am not 
 misinformed, are Don Juan Moreno." 
 
 " I am Juan Moreno," I replied. 
 
 " Then I must interrupt your tiie-a-tile, my 
 friend. Here, Pierre — here is your prisoner." 
 Half-a-dozen hussars instantly came in. I re- 
 monstrated, but it was unavailing, and demanded 
 to know the nature of my offence, and the autho- 
 rity by which I was treated like a malefactor.
 
 216 CONFESSIONS OF A GUERILLA. 
 
 " This is my warrant," replied the Frenchman, 
 as he scornfully touched the handle of his sahre. 
 " Secure the gentleman," he continued, address- 
 ing his myrmidons. I was instantly seized — hand- 
 cuffed like a deserter — torn from the house, and 
 not permitted to await the recovery of Catalina, 
 who had fainted on the sofa, nor allowed to bid 
 my affianced wife farewell. 
 
 I was mounted on a dragoon horse, escorted 
 by a troop of cavalry, and not permitted to 
 procure a cloak or a change of linen. Transferred 
 from troop to troop, without rest, without food, 
 until I was completely worn down with suffering 
 and fatigue, my journey terminated at Gre- 
 nada ; there, without any colourable pretext, I 
 was thrown into a damp and solitary dungeon, 
 where none but desperate malefactors were con< 
 fined. 
 
 A long month wore heavily away. I lay pining 
 in a loathsome cell, never seeing a human coun- 
 tenance except the keeper's, who visited me at 
 midnight with a supply of coarse food, barely
 
 CONFESSIONS OF A GUERILLA. 217 
 
 sufficient to sustain life. My bodily sufferings 
 were severe enough, but what were they com- 
 pared to the mental agony I endured, when my 
 deserted bride and her helpless parent were re- 
 membered. My offences, whatever they might 
 be, would probably be visited on them ; and when 
 I thought of the licentious character of the inva- 
 ders, I shuddered to think that Catalina was so 
 beautiful and so unprotected. 
 
 The thirtieth night of my melancholy captivity 
 arrived, and the hour of the jailer's visit was at 
 hand. I heard a sudden uproar in the prison, 
 and, even remote as my dungeon was, the shouts 
 of men, and the sharp discharge of small arms, 
 reached it. The affray was short as it had been 
 sudden — the noises died away — the conflict was 
 over, or the combatants were engaged at a greater 
 distance from my cell. It was a strange and 
 unusual event, and I longed for the appearance 
 of the keeper, to ask him what had caused this 
 midnight tumult.
 
 218 CONFESSIONS OF A GUERILLA. 
 
 At last the key grated in the dungeon lock, 
 and my jailer entered. He looked like a person 
 who had been engaged in a recent affray ; and to 
 judge from his torn clothes, and head bound up 
 in a bloody handkerchief, he had suffered in the 
 scuffle. When I asked what had occasioned the 
 late confusion, he regarded me with a ferocious 
 stare — left the loaf and pitcher down — and, as 
 he turned to the door, muttered, " I suspect, my 
 friend, that you will know more about it in the 
 morning !" and abruptly quitting the cell, left 
 me to solitude and darkness. 
 
 Day broke, and I waited impatiently to learn 
 the meaning of the keeper's threat, nor was I 
 long kept in uncertainty. The footsteps of se- 
 veral men sounded in the vaulted passage, my 
 dungeon was unlocked, and the keeper entered, 
 accompanied by a military guard with drawn 
 bayonets, and desired me to rise and follow him. 
 I obeyed; and, mounting by a flight of stone 
 stairs, found myself in the prison-hall, where
 
 CONFESSIONS OF A GUERILLA. 219 
 
 General Sebastiani, attended by a numerous staff 
 and a few civilians, was sitting in judgment on a 
 prisoner. 
 
 That he was one was evident enough, for I 
 remarked that both his hands and feet were 
 strongly fettered. His back was turned to me 
 as he confronted his judge ; but from his hat and 
 mantillo, I guessed him to be a Spaniard. The 
 hall was encircled by a triple file of soldiers, and 
 a deathlike silence ensued, as the French general 
 ceased speaking on my entrance with the guard. 
 
 " Approach, young man," he said, after a 
 minute's pause. 
 
 I did as I was ordered, and came forward to 
 the table where my fellow-captive stood. 
 
 " Look up," continued the Frenchman, "and 
 tell me if you know the prisoner?" 
 
 The captive remained regarding steadily the 
 person on whose decision his fate rested. I raised 
 my eyes to examine his face. Great God ! — it 
 was no strange countenance that met my glance — 
 the prisoner was my brother !
 
 220 CONFESSIONS OF A GUERILLA. 
 
 " Vicente !"" I exclaimed. He started at the 
 well-known voice, and next moment we were in 
 each other's arms. Gently disengaging himself 
 from my embrace, he held me at a little distance 
 as he mournfully replied — 
 
 fC And is this wreck of manhood thou, my 
 beloved brother ? Alas, Juan — thy free spirit 
 agrees but poorly with a tyrant's thrall. I need 
 not ask how thou hast fared ; that withered cheek 
 and sunken eye tell plainly enough how well 
 chains and captivity can work the wrath of the 
 oppressor. I heard but two days since of thy 
 arrest ; and I would have delivered thee, but for 
 the treachery of yonder miscreant," — and he 
 pointed his finger scornfully towards a man who 
 was standing at a distance, and whom I recognised 
 at once to be the alguazil of my native village. 
 This explained the cause of the midnight dis- 
 turbance, and the jailer's menace. My brother 
 had made a desperate attempt to effect my libe- 
 ration. He surprised and cut down the prison 
 guard. His success would have been certain;
 
 CONFESSIONS OF A GUERILLA. 221 
 
 but a traitor had betrayed him, and his own 
 capture and certain death resulted. 
 
 Sebastiani and his staff watched our interview 
 with marked attention. He whispered to an aide- 
 de-camp, who withdrew from the hall, and the 
 general then addressed himself to me. 
 
 " Juan Moreno," he said, " attend and answer 
 me." 
 
 I bowed, and the general proceeded. 
 
 " You are accused, that, contrary to the royal 
 decree, condemning to death all Spaniards taken 
 in arms, and all who abet and assist them — you 
 have been in communication with the brigands 
 in the mountains of Ronda, and that, through 
 information sent from the capital by you, much 
 of the mischief they have perpetrated has been 
 caused. How say ye — are these eharges true — 
 and are you guilty of this treason ?'' 
 
 Before I could reply, my brother addressed 
 Sebastiani. 
 
 "General," he said, "you have offered me 
 liberty and preferment, and I have refused them,
 
 222 CONFESSIONS OF A GUERILLA. 
 
 because I could only accept them with the loss 
 of honour. Judge whether, to free another, I 
 would do that, which, even to save myself, I 
 have declined doing. Think not that I am reck- 
 less of life. No — there are ties which bind me 
 to it ardently. I am a husband — and I am a 
 father. Now by the hope of Heaven, which 
 must enable me with firmness to go through the 
 scene that is approaching — by the unsullied 
 honour of a Spaniard, Juan Moreno is guiltless 
 of the charge you have accused him of." 
 
 There was a pause — and the solemnity of my 
 brother's declaration seemed to confirm my inno- 
 cence with the greater number of those who had 
 listened to him. An impression had evidently 
 been made upon the French officers in my favour, 
 when the corregidor of La Mancha, the villain 
 Ciria, who had joined the enemy, and pursued 
 every patriot with undying hatred, remarked that 
 the anxiety of a brother to save his kinsman was 
 just and natural; but, unfortunately, the testi- 
 mony of an unprejudiced man had established
 
 CONFESSIONS OF A GUERILLA. 223 
 
 the fact, that a treasonab'e correspondence existed 
 between Vicente and me. 
 
 Moreno darted a withering look at the betrayer 
 of his country. 
 
 " What ! " he exclaimed. iC Mind ye the 
 assertions of yon pale-faced traitor? — A mis- 
 creant false to his nation and his God ! One, 
 who like the arch-deceiver of old, has sold for 
 silver the blood of innocence so frequently. 
 Would the denunciations of such a wretch be 
 deemed worthy of belief by any man of honour. 
 But I am wrong to permit an abject traitor to 
 disturb any portion of the brief space of life that 
 now remains." 
 
 iC Moreno!" — said Sebastiani. — "You have 
 two lives at your disposal. Save your brother's 
 and your own. Accept my offers, or you know 
 the alternative." 
 
 " I know it, general ; and I have made my 
 decision from the moment I became your pri- 
 soner." 
 
 " Pause" — said the Frenchman. " Remcm-
 
 224 CONFESSIONS OF A GUERILLA. 
 
 ber, no hope but one remains. Your band cannot 
 save — " 
 
 " But," said the Guerilla with a smile, " they 
 can avenge me ! I have a last request. Allow 
 me a confessor, and a few minutes of private 
 conversation with my brother." 
 
 '* Both are granted. I have already despatched 
 my aide-de-camp to his convent for the priest 
 you named, and you may retire into the adjoining 
 room with your brother until the monk arrives." 
 
 " I thank you, general, for this indulgence ; 
 nay, I feel convinced that in your own heart you 
 loathe the duty which obliges you to visit the 
 man who strikes for freedom, with the penalties 
 traitors only should incur." 
 
 We were conducted into a small chamber which 
 opened off the hall, and looked out upon the 
 market. One close-barred window gave it light ; 
 and through the open lattice we saw the scaffold 
 erected, on which, in another hour, Vicente was 
 to seal his loyalty with his life. 
 
 " Juan," he said, "thou knowest how tenderly
 
 CONFESSIONS OF A GUERILLA. 225 
 
 I love thee ; and, brief as my span of existence 
 is, I would use it in preparing thee for death or 
 life. If thou art to be another victim, bear thy 
 doom manfully, and prove upon the scaffold how 
 calmly a Spaniard can abide the tyrant's decree. 
 If thou art spared, devote thyself to avenge thy 
 country's wrongs — thy brother's slaughter. Now 
 tax thy energies, for I have evil news to tell. 
 Canst thou hear of ruined hopes ? — of — 11 
 
 " What ! " — I exclaimed, as he hesitated. — 
 " What of Catalina ? Have they wronged her ? — 
 Have they—." 
 
 " Patience, my brother, and man thyself — 
 none can wrong — ." 
 
 He stopped again. 
 
 "Go on, Vicente. Go on. All this is tor- 
 ture." 
 
 " The dead," — he added solemnly. 
 
 " The dead !— Is Catalina dead ?" 
 
 " She is," he returned. " Ten days after you 
 had been torn away, while thy betrothed was 
 lying in a fever, they seized the old man, and 
 
 vol. ir. Q
 
 226 CONFESSIONS OF A GUERILLA. 
 
 incarcerated him. The shock was fatal. She 
 became delirious, and expired on the third day, 
 without the consolation of knowing that a lover 
 watched her couch, or a parent closed her eyes. 
 Jose Miranda heard the tidings — he never raised 
 his head afterwards, and in a week they laid him 
 in the same cemetery where Catalina rests. 1 ' 
 
 '* God of justice!" I exclaimed, " can such 
 villany and oppression escape unpunished?" 
 
 " Thou mayst yet have vengeance in thy 
 power; and the last efforts of my life shall be 
 used to save thine. Should I succeed, remem- 
 ber Vicente and avenge him. Here comes the 
 priest. Farewell, a last farewell, my Juan. The 
 monk will visit thee when the trial of my firmness 
 is over, and tell thee how calmly thy brother 
 died!" 
 
 We embraced — were separated — I reconducted 
 to my cell, and Vicente led to execution. In the 
 presence of his wife and children they hanged him 
 like a dog. How his last moments passed — how
 
 CONFESSIONS OF A GUERILLA. 227 
 
 nobly he submitted to his martyrdom — thou 
 know"st already. 
 
 The fading sunbeams penetrated the grated 
 loophole of my dungeon — and it was resolved 
 that I should never see them set a^ain. 
 Moreno's firmness on the scaffold had incensed 
 the bloodhounds who had sent him there, while 
 the deep sympathy exhibited by the spectators 
 alarmed and exasperated Civia and Fernandez, 
 his renegade confederate, and the betrayer of my 
 brother. They urged on Sebastiani the expe- 
 diency of example, and exhorted him to check this 
 popular display of pity and admiration. The 
 French general yielded a reluctant consent, and 
 the warrant for my execution next morning was 
 officially prepared. 
 
 It was an unusual hour for a visit, when I 
 heard the keeper turn his key. He came ac^ 
 companied by a monk, and showed me the fatal 
 warrant. The death of my affianced bride - the 
 murder of my gallant brother — the total wreck of 
 worldly happiness had rendered life so valueless, 
 
 q2
 
 223 CONFESSIONS OF A GUERILLA. 
 
 that, but for the hope of revenge, I would have 
 parted with existence, and felt that death was a 
 relief. 
 
 " Art thou prepared to die, my son?" said the 
 friar, after the jailer had read the fatal mandate. 
 
 " Better I trust, father, than they who are 
 spillers of innocent blood." 
 
 " Art thou ready," continued the monk, " to 
 submit to thy fate with resignation ; and, like a 
 Christian man, forgive thy enemies and perse- 
 cutors?"' 
 
 " I will meet my doom like a man," I replied, 
 " and my last exhortation to those who witness 
 my end, will be vengeance on my murderers." 
 
 " Hush! my son," replied the priest. "As 
 thou hopest forgiveness, thou must render it. 
 Leave us, good Pedro, alone. I would hear his 
 confession; and, for his soul's sake, persuade this 
 youthful sinner to die in a holier mood." 
 
 The jailer bowed — laid down his light — with- 
 drew — and, having secured the door, left me to 
 the pious admonitions of my ghostly comforter.
 
 CONFESSIONS OF A GUERILLA. 229 
 
 Before the sound of the keeper's steps was 
 lost in the distant passage, the monk suddenly 
 flung back his cowl, and displayed a dark and 
 vindictive countenance. 
 
 " Juan IMoreno, it is no shaveling who speaks 
 to thee, but a devoted comrade of thy brother. 
 I have planned thy escape: hear and attend to 
 What I say. At the end of the stone corridor 
 without the door there is a window that opens on 
 the market-place. It is, to all appearance, 
 strongly secured with iron stanchions ; but several 
 of the bars have been sawed through ; and could 
 you but quit this cell, the rest were easy. There 
 is but one way — it is simple and sure — when the 
 keeper comes here at midnight stab him to the 
 heart, and hasten to the outlet I have described. 
 There I, with some trusty companions, will be 
 waiting. Whistle twice, and we will know thou 
 art at the grate. Take these, and hide them until 
 they are wanted ;" and he gave me a dogger, a 
 pistol, some food, and a flask of wine. 
 
 " Drink," he said, " and when the time comes
 
 230 CONFESSIONS OF A GUERILLA. 
 
 for action, think of Vicente Moreno, remember 
 thy martyred brother, and strike home to the 
 heart of one of his murderers. But I must free 
 thee from thy fetters ;" and stooping, he unlocked 
 the chains, told me his plans again, and exhorted 
 me to be prompt and resolute. I needed nothing 
 to rouse my vengeance ; and, hiding the weapons 
 and the wine beneath the mattress, waited the 
 jailer's coming, whose steps were heard advancing 
 along the vaulted passage. 
 
 " Well," he said, " holy father, hast thou 
 made any progress in fitting this youth for 
 death ?" 
 
 " Alas! no:" replied the false monk. " For 
 one so young, he appears desperately hardened. 
 Wilt thou think on what I have said to thee, 
 Juan ? and by all you value, follow my advice, I 
 conjure you." 
 
 " I will do as the brother of Vicente Moreno 
 should do ; and to the latest hour of existence, I 
 will remember his wrongs, and imprecate curses 
 on his enemies."
 
 CONFESSIONS OF A GUERILLA. 231 
 
 " Now, by St. Jerome," exclaimed the keeper, 
 " I will witness thy dying pangs upon the gal- 
 lows, with as much pleasure as I looked upon 
 those of the rebel whom you speak of. Come, 
 holy father, leave the young brigand to himself, 
 and let him amuse himself with the prospect of a 
 hempen necklace until to-night, when I will bring 
 him the last loaf he will require at my hands." 
 
 He said — followed the disguised Guerilla, and 
 I was left once more in solitude and darkness. 
 
 Had I felt one sting of compunction in robbing 
 a human being of life so suddenly, the remarks of 
 the truculent scoundrel, in allusion to my brother's 
 death, would have removed it. I ate the food, 
 drank the wine sparingly, concealed the weapons 
 in my bosom, and coolly waited for the hour 
 when the work of vengeance should commence. 
 
 Midnight came — the deep-toned bell of Santa 
 Margarita told the houi', and sounded the knell 
 of rny first victim. Pedro entered the cell as he 
 usually did; and when he had laid down the
 
 232 CONFESSIONS OF A GUERILLA. 
 
 loaf and pitcher, informed me that one hour after 
 daybreak, I should be required to be ready. 
 
 " You, I presume, intend to witness the cere- 
 mony," I said carelessly. 
 
 " I would not take a doubloon, and miss the 
 sight," he replied. "Youngster, you have al- 
 ready cost me a broken head" — and he pointed 
 to his bandages. " In his mad attempt to save 
 you, I received this blow from Vicente Moreno." 
 
 " And this from Juan" — I added — striking 
 the dagger to the hilt in his bosom. Thrice 1 
 repeated the blow as he was falling. The jailer 
 gave one hollow groan, and all was over. 
 
 I took the light and hastened to the outlet, 
 discovered it easily, and gave the appointed 
 signal. Hands from without promptly removed 
 the bars. I passed my body through the aper- 
 ture, and found the comrade of my brother, and 
 some trusty friends, waiting for me. By obscure 
 streets we quitted Grenada, and evaded the 
 French pickets ; and at the hour appointed for
 
 CONFESSIONS OF A GUERILLA. 233 
 
 my execution, when I was expected to exhibit on 
 the scaffold, I was kneeling in the mountains of 
 Ronda, in the centre of a guerilla troop, swear- 
 ing upon my brother's crucifix, eternal vengeance 
 against his murderers. 
 
 But I have been tedious in my narrative, and 
 it is time my band were moving. I shall give 
 the word of readiness; and while my comrades 
 are bridling their horses, I will tell you my last 
 adventure. 
 
 I mentioned the names of Ciria and Fer- 
 nandez, as the villains who had betrayed my 
 brother, and consigned me to the dungeons of 
 Grenada. Before three months passed I sur- 
 prised the former in Almagro, and hanged him 
 over his own door. Fernandez, aware that the 
 same fate awaited him, retired to France, and 
 thus evaded for a time my vengeance. His 
 treachery was rewarded with an appointment in 
 the enemy's commissariat ; and, as his duties lav 
 beyond the Pyrenees, he fancied himself secure.
 
 234 CONFESSIONS OF A GUERILLA. 
 
 Four days ago I found, by an intercepted 
 despatch, that the traitor was quartered within 
 the French lines, and expected another villain, 
 named Cardonna, to meet him on some secret 
 business at the village of Espalette. A pass from 
 General Foy was enclosed, to enable the latter to 
 clear the outposts. There was a chance — a dan- 
 gerous one no doubt — but the dead called for 
 vengeance, and I resolved to obtain it, or perish 
 in the attempt. I left my band in their moun- 
 tain bivouacs, passed the French sentries unmo- 
 lested, and at nightfall entered the village. 
 
 To find out, without exciting any inquiries, 
 the house where Fernandez lodged was difficult; 
 but I tried and succeeded. His chamber was on 
 one side of a cottage, occupied by French sol- 
 diers ; and through the window I could observe 
 him engaged with another man in overlooking 
 military returns. Every word spoken I heard 
 distinctly. 
 
 " You must fetch the muster-roll,' 1 said Fer-
 
 CONFESSIONS OF A GUERILLA. 23-5 
 
 nandez. " Hasten back, that the business may- 
 be settled before Cardonna arrives.' 1 
 
 " I shall be back in ten minutes/' replied the 
 other, as he rose and left the room. 
 
 I waited for half that time, then passed into 
 the cottage unobserved, and entered the chamber 
 boldly. Fernandez continued writing at the 
 table — his back was to the door; and never 
 doubting but it was his friend returning with the 
 roll, he never raised his eyes from the returns. 
 I marked the spot to strike, and with one blow 
 divided the spine. The head dropped down 
 upon the table, and not a sigh escaped his lips ! 
 With the point of my bloody knife I traced upon 
 a slip of paper the name of " Juan Moreno," 
 and glided from the cottage unquestioned and 
 unnoticed. Was not that, my friend, brave re- 
 venge ? To immolate, in the centre of an enemy's 
 camp, the murderer of Vicente — the destroyer of 
 Catalina. 
 
 My subsequent escape was truly hazardous. I 
 hid myself during the day in a hollow bank that
 
 236 CONFESSIONS OF A GUERILLA. 
 
 overhung the river, and at night succeeded in 
 reaching the bridge — the termination you know 
 yourself. 
 
 And now you have heard from my own lips the 
 causes which have made my name so formidable 
 to the invaders. Had I not been driven to the 
 mountains by oppression, I should have dreamed 
 my life peacefully away — and Juan Moreno would 
 have lived, and died, and been forgotten. Cruelty 
 turned my blood to gall, and changed my very 
 nature. At manhood this hand was stainless as a 
 schoolboy's — at thirty the blood of fifty victims 
 reeks upon it. Human joys and pleasures are 
 lost upon me. For me beauty has no charms, 
 and gold is merely dross. Yonder mule is laden 
 with Napoleons ; and, by heaven, I would not 
 take the burden beyond that rivulet, only that I 
 employ it in furthering my revenge. Once I 
 could hang over a harp, and feel its music at 
 my heart — now the roar of cannon, the crash of 
 battle, or, sweeter still, the death-groan of ■ an 
 enemy, is the only melody for me. Living, mine
 
 CONFESSIONS OF A GUERILLA. 237 
 
 shall be " war to the knife !" — and when I die, 
 whether it be on the scaffold or the field, my last 
 breath shall be a curse upon the oppressor. Ho, 
 Carlos ! my horse. And now farewell. You and 
 I shall probably never meet again. INI ay you be 
 happy ; and when you hear that Juan Moreno is 
 no more, ask how he died." 
 
 lie gave the word to march — sprang lightly to 
 the saddle — and, at the sudden turning of an 
 alpine pass, waved a last adieu to O'Connor, and 
 disappeared.
 
 THE FALL OF ST. SEBASTIAN. 
 
 The tale of war still bears a painful sound — 
 I see in captured towns but mangled corpses — 
 I hear in victory's shouts but dying groans. 
 
 M. G. Lewis.
 
 241 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 THE FALL OF ST. SEBASTIAN. 
 
 When Soult retreated through the passes of 
 the Pyrenees by Maya, Roncesvalles, and Echa- 
 lan, the British and their allies resumed the 
 positions from which they had been forced, and 
 re-established their head-quarters at Lezaca. A 
 period of comparative inactivity succeeded. Im- 
 mediate operations could not be commenced on 
 either side — ■ the enemy had been too severely 
 repulsed to permit their becoming assailants 
 again ; while, on the other hand, Wellington 
 would not be justified in crossing the frontier and 
 entering a hostile country, with Pamplona and 
 
 VOL. II. R
 
 242 THE FALL OF ST. SEBASTIAN. 
 
 St. Sebastian garrisoned by the French, and in 
 his rear. 
 
 Nothing could be more magnificent than the 
 positions of the British brigades. For many a 
 mile along the extended line of occupation, huts 
 crowning the heights or studding the deep val- 
 leys below them, showed the rude dwellings of 
 the mighty mass of human beings collected in 
 that alpine country. At night the scene was still 
 more picturesque. The irregular surface of the 
 sierras sparkled with a thousand watch-fires, and 
 the bivouacs of the allies exhibited all the varie- 
 ties of light and shadow which an artist loves to 
 copy. To the occupants themselves, the views 
 obtained from their elevated abodes were ffrand 
 
 O 
 
 and imposing. One while obscured in fog, the 
 hum of voices alone announced that their com- 
 rades were beside them, — while at another the 
 sun bursting forth in cloudless beauty displayed 
 a varied scene, glorious beyond imagination. At 
 their feet the fertile plains of France present- 
 ed themselves, — above, ranges of magnificent
 
 THE FALL OF ST. SEBASTIAN. 243 
 
 heights towered in majestic grandeur to the 
 skies, and stretched into distance beyond the 
 range of sight. 
 
 That portion of the Rifles with which our story 
 chiefly lies, had resumed their old quarters at the 
 bridge, and occupied the same bivouac, from 
 which Soul^s advance had obliged them to retire. 
 Although no military movements were made, 
 this inactive interval of a vigorous campaign was 
 usefully employed by the allied commander, in 
 organizing anew the regiments that had suffered 
 most, concentrating the divisions, replacing ex- 
 hausted stores, and perfecting the whole materiel 
 of the army. Those of the British near the 
 coast, compared with the corps that were block- 
 ading Pamplona, lived comfortably in their moun- 
 tain bivouacs. The task of covering the blockade 
 was the most disagreeable that falls to the 
 soldier's lot. Exposed to cold and rain, conti- 
 nually on the alert, and yet engaged in a duty 
 devoid of enterprise and interest, nothing could 
 be more wearying to the troops employed ; and 
 
 it 2
 
 244 THE FALL OF ST. SEBASTIAN. 
 
 desertions, which during active service were infre- 
 quent, became numerous, and especially among 
 the Spaniards and Irish. 
 
 It was a wet day,— a thick mist hung over the 
 valleys, and shut out distant objects from the 
 view of the light troops cantoned on the heights 
 of Santa Barbara. The wooden hut was but 
 thinly tenanted — for, alas ! several of the brave 
 youths who had been formerly its occupants, 
 had found a soldier's grave during the late 
 combats in the mountains, or fallen before the 
 shattered bastions of Saint Sebastian. Although 
 not engaged in the investment of that fortress, 
 the division had furnished a portion of the 
 volunteers, who formed the storming party on 
 the morning of the assault, — and of that gallant 
 band, two-thirds died before the breach, or were 
 placed hors dc combat in the hospitals. 
 
 In the annals of modern warfare there is no 
 conflict recorded so sanguinary and so desperate 
 as the storming of that well-defended breach 
 During the blockade every resource of military
 
 THE FALL OF ST. SEBASTIAN. 245 
 
 ingenuity was tried by the French governor — 
 and the failure of the first assault, and the 
 subsequent raising of the siege, imboldencd the 
 garrison and rendered thern the more confident 
 of holding out, until Soult could advance and 
 succour them. The time from which the bat- 
 tering guns had been withdrawn, until they were 
 again replaced in the works, had been assi- 
 duously employed in constructing new defences 
 and strengthening the old ones. But though 
 the place when reinvested was more formidable 
 than before, the besiegers appeared only the 
 more determined to reduce it — Santa Clara, a 
 bluff and rocky island commanding the landing 
 place, was carried after an obstinate defence — a 
 mortar battery was erected to shell the castle from 
 across the bay — while a storm of round and case 
 shot was maintained so vigorously, that in a short 
 time the fire of the enemy was nearly silenced. 
 
 The night before the storm was well fitted to 
 harbinger the day of slaughter that succeeded, — 
 a dreadful tempest of thunder, lightning and
 
 246 THE FALL OF ST. SEBASTIAN. 
 
 rain came on with darkness, and amid the 
 uproar of elemental fury ; three mines loaded 
 ■with 1500 lbs. of powder were sprung by the 
 besiegers, and the sea-wall blown down. 
 
 Morning broke gloomily — an intense mist ob- 
 scured every object - and the work of slaughter was 
 for a time delayed. At nine the sea-breeze cleared 
 away the fog — the sun shone gloriously out — and 
 in two hours the forlorn hope issued from the 
 trenches. The columns succeeded, and every 
 gun from the fortress that could bear, opened on 
 them with shot and shells. The appearance of 
 the breach was perfectly delusive — nothing living 
 could reach the summit — no courage, however 
 desperate, could overcome the difficulties — they 
 were alike unexpected and insurmountable. In 
 vain the officers rushed forward, and devotedly 
 were they followed by their men. From in- 
 trenched houses behind the breach, the traverses, 
 and the ramparts of the curtain, a withering dis- 
 charge of musketry was poured on the assailants, 
 while the Mirador and Prince batteries swept
 
 THE FALL OF ST. SEBASTIAN. 247 
 
 the approaches with their guns. To survive this 
 concentrated fire was impossible ; the forlorn 
 hope were cut off to a man, and the heads of the 
 columns annihilated. At last the debouches were 
 choked with the dead and wounded, and a fur- 
 ther passage to the breach rendered impracticable, 
 from the heap of corpses that were piled upon 
 each other. 
 
 Then, in that desperate moment, when hope 
 might have been supposed to be over, an expe- 
 dient unparalleled in the records of war was 
 resorted to. The British batteries opened on 
 the curtain, and the storming parties heard with 
 surprise the roar of cannon in their rear, while, 
 but a few feet above their heads, the iron 
 shower hissed horribly, sweeping away the enemy 
 and their defences. This was the moment for a 
 fresh efibrt. Another brigade was moved for- 
 ward, and favoured by an accidental explosion 
 upon the curtain, which confused the enemy while 
 it encouraged the assailants, the terre-plain was 
 mounted, and the French driven from the works.
 
 248 THE FALL OF ST. SEBASTIAN. 
 
 A long and obstinate resistance was continued in 
 the streets, which were in many places barricaded, 
 but by five in the evening opposition ceased — ■ 
 and the town was in the possession of the British. 
 A night of frightful excesses followed the cap- 
 ture of the city. Plunder and violence were 
 raging through every corner of the place — the 
 town was partially on fire — while, as if to add to the 
 horror of the scene, the elements were convulsed, 
 and it thundered and lightened awfully. Over 
 the transactions of that night a veil should be 
 drawn — for if ever men were demonized, these 
 were the captors of St. Sebastian. 
 
 What rendered the assault upon the fortress more 
 interesting was, that, at the same time, while the 
 operations to reduce it were being carried on, the 
 French recrossed the Bidassoa in great force, and at- 
 tacked the Spaniards at San Marcial. In the affair 
 that succeeded, the allies behaved most gallantly. 
 They held the position, repulsed Soult's attempt 
 to dislodge them, and obliged him to retire with 
 immense loss. The number of the French killed
 
 THE FALL OF ST. SEBASTIAN. 249 
 
 was never correctly known, but nearly a thousand 
 perished in forcing the bridge at Vera, which was 
 held by a part of the light division. 
 
 An animated description of the fall of St. 
 Sebastian, by a survivor of those who volunteered 
 from the rifles, had occasioned some observa- 
 tions on the advantage of night attacks. O'Connor 
 had been frequently appealed to upon disputed 
 points. Gradually a deeper interest to learn the 
 particulars of the assault on Badajoz was excited, 
 and none could better describe that scene of blood 
 than he who had led the storming party. The 
 rain continued falling with unabated violence, and 
 all the inmates of the wooden hut were collected 
 round the rough bench which formed the table. 
 To their unanimous request the gallant soldier 
 yielded a goodhumoured assent, and thus nar- 
 rated that glorious affair, which widowed many a 
 dame, and left many a maid " lamenting."
 
 THE STORM OF BADAJOZ. 
 
 From the point of encountering blades to the hilt, 
 Sabres and swords with blood were gilt ; 
 But the rampart is won, and the spoil begun, 
 And all but the after-carnage done. 
 
 Siege of Corinth. 
 
 Men, like wild beasts, when once they have tasted 
 blood, acquire an appetite for it. 
 
 Southey. 
 
 And he had learned to love — I know not why, 
 
 For this in such as him seems strange of mood — 
 
 The helpless looks of blooming infancy 
 
 Even in its earliest nature. 
 
 Childe IIakold.
 
 253 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 THE STORM OF BADAJOZ. 
 
 '•' Badajoz !" exclaimed O'Connor, with en- 
 thusiasm, " many a gallant deed — many a bitter 
 recollection are associated with thee. Thousands 
 of the best troops that England and France ever 
 sent into the field are mouldering before thy bas- 
 tions — 'and many a widowed wife and fatherless 
 child will curse the name that recals the loss of 
 their protectors ! 
 
 Never shall I forget the morning of the 9th of 
 March, when the light, third, and fourth divisions 
 crossed the Tagus by a bridge of boats, and con- 
 centrating a Elvas, pushed on to Merida and
 
 254 STORM OF BADAJOZ. 
 
 Lerena. Never was an army in higher spirit — 
 and all were anxious to come in contact with the 
 enemy. On the 16th Badajoz was to be invested. 
 The pontoon bridge was thrown across the Gua- 
 diana; and, though fiercely opposed by the 
 French cavalry, the river was crossed, and we sat 
 down before this celebrated fortress. 
 
 Badajoz is easily described. Round one por- 
 tion of the town the rivulets Calamon and Rivel- 
 las sweep, and unite with the Guadiana, which 
 flows in the face of the works, and in front of the 
 heights of Saint Christoval. The castle stands 
 nearly above the union of these rivers. The 
 fortifications are exceedingly strong — the bastions 
 and curtains regular — while formidable outworks 
 — the forts of Pardelaras, Picarina, and Saint 
 Christoval — completed the exterior defences of a 
 city that had already stood two sieges, and had 
 since been strengthened with jealous attention 
 and scientific skill. 
 
 The 1 7th was a day of peculiar interest ; and 
 the, anniversary of our patron saint was employed
 
 STORM OF BADA.TOZ. 255 
 
 in reconnoitring the place, and determining the 
 point on which our opening assault should be 
 directed. The outwork of Picarina was selected 
 for the first essay ; and in a tempest of wind and 
 rain and favoured by the darkness, we broke 
 ground within a hundred and forty paces of the 
 fort. Three thousand men laboured throughout 
 the night without a moment's cessation — and at 
 dawn the oarrison were astounded to see the first 
 parallel completed. 
 
 Ail the next day, under a lively cannonade 
 from the fort and town, we laboured vigorously. 
 At night the rain came down in torrents, but we 
 worked on, knee-deep in water. On the 19th the 
 trenches were advancing rapidly, and some guns 
 were already in battery — when Phillipon, alarmed 
 for the safety of his best outwork, determined to 
 sally, and attempt the destruction of our labours. 
 
 During the morning an unusual bustle was 
 apparent in the city and fort ; but the soldiers, 
 up to the waist in water, continued pushing on 
 the works. At noon, profiting by a dense fog.
 
 256 STORM OF BADAJOZ. 
 
 the sallyports of the fortress were thrown open? 
 and eighteen hundred of the enemy rushed on us 
 with fixed bayonets. A short and sanguinary 
 struggle ensued. On the left, the French were 
 driven back to their own gates ; and though they 
 surprised the workmen on the right, and injured 
 a part of the trenches, the sortie w r as on the whole 
 disastrous to the garrison, and cost them above 
 four hundred killed or prisoners. We lost a 
 number of officers and men; but the French 
 
 « 
 
 gaiifed nothing by the affair but a few intrench- 
 ing tools. They carried off a number of spades 
 and shovels, for which Philippon gave a dollar 
 each. 
 
 The weather was dreadful : nothing but a tor- 
 rent of rain. The water in the trenches, in some 
 places, took the men above the middle, while the 
 earth crumbled away, and prevented us from 
 making any progress in forwarding the breaching 
 batteries. The river rose — the flood swept off 
 our pontoon bridge — we were cut off from our 
 supplies — insulated from the covering force — and
 
 STORM OF BADAJOZ. 257 
 
 as badly off for food and shelter as might be. 
 But we laboured on — the weather changed — the 
 24th was fine. The French attempted to check 
 our efforrts to place guns in battery and esta- 
 blish magazines, by an increased storm of artil- 
 lery. Our men fell in dozens — the engineers, 
 who directed the works, and exposed themselves 
 with reckless devotion, were momently shot down 
 — shells dropped frequently into the trenches — 
 powder casks were repeatedly exploded while be- 
 ing conveyed to the magazine. Under all these 
 discouraging circumstances, the works were com- 
 pleted ; and, on the dawning of the 25th, two 
 batteries were unmasked, and opened with a tre- 
 mendous fire on the outwork of Picurina at the 
 short distance of one hundred and forty paces. 
 Of course the town and fort turned every gun 
 within range upon ours; but so terrible and 
 effective was the point-blank service of our 
 two-and-thirties, that at evening a breach was 
 declared practicable, and Lord Wellington, no 
 admirer of the Fabian system of delay, detcr- 
 
 VOL. II. s
 
 258 STORM OF BADAJOZ. 
 
 mined, when it became dark, to carry Picurina by 
 storm. 
 
 Well, the storming-party was selected from a 
 part of Picton's division, and we of the light were 
 allowed to volunteer. On we went with scaling 
 ladders; but the ditch was so immensely deep 
 that it was impossible to cross it. At last we 
 broke down the gate — on rushed our fellows with 
 the bayonet — the French grenadiers as stur- 
 dily resisted them — a regular steel affair ensued ; 
 and though a strong support moved from the 
 town to assist the defenders of the fort, in a short 
 time all opposition ceased — and Picurina was ours. 
 
 I was slightly wounded in the melte within the 
 gate, and was hors de combat till the morning of 
 the oth of April. I was then quite recovered 
 and able to rejoin my regiment, and fortunately 
 in good time to witness the splendid night attack, 
 which ended in the capture of this well-defended 
 fortress. 
 
 On the 6th the breaches were reported practi- 
 cable by the engineers; and the assault was fixed
 
 STORM OF BADAJOZ. 259 
 
 for eight o'clock that evening. The day was 
 beautiful, and 'when the order was issued markr 
 ing the positions the different brigades should 
 occupy, the soldiers were in high spirits, and set 
 merrily to work cleaning their arms and appoint- 
 ments, as if preparing for a dress parade. On 
 individual officers the effect that note of pre- 
 paration caused was very opposite. One, as 
 brave a fellow as ever breathed, passed me appa- 
 rently in deep abstraction. Suddenly he seemed 
 to awake from an uneasy reverie, recognised me, 
 and shook me by the hand. 
 
 "God bless you, Edward," he said. "Fare- 
 well, old boy ; before midnight I shall be in 
 another world." I laughed at him. " Yes, 
 O'Connor, it will be so. I would not own it to 
 another ; but you and I have fought side by side 
 ere now, and you will acquit me of timidity. 
 This, O'Connor, is my last fight ! Will you oblige 
 me in one matter ? When you came up I was 
 just thinking which of our fellows I should ask 
 the favour of." 
 
 s2
 
 260 STORM OF BADAJOZ. 
 
 a 
 
 Any thing, my dear Jack, that I can do, 
 you may command." 
 
 " Come aside," he said — and we walked behind 
 the huts. " Here," — and he put a parcel into my 
 hand — " when I am gone, have that little packet 
 conveyed to England, and delivered as it is 
 addressed; and just add a line or two, to say that 
 it never left my bosom until I confided it to you. 11 
 
 It was a leather case, and I fancy contained a 
 miniature and some letters. The direction was to 
 a young lady, who, if report was to be believed, 
 was deeply attached to my gallant friend. I 
 took the parcel. Once more Weyland and I 
 shook hands. We parted, never to meet again — 
 nis foreboding was verified — he perished at the 
 head of the storming party in front of the lesser 
 breach. 
 
 I had scarcely deposited the case in the breast 
 of my jacket, when Dillon, of the 2d, encoun- 
 tered me — his face beaming with delight — his 
 spirits buoyant as the schoolboy's, when an un- 
 expected holiday is announced by his master.
 
 STORM OF BADAJOZ. 261 
 
 "Well met, O'Connor," he cried, as he took 
 my hand. " Here we are a brace of subs to day, 
 and to morrow we shall be captains. We're both 
 at the head of the list, and surely some of the old 
 fellows will get a quietus before morning. Egad, 
 to morrow you and I will drink to our further 
 promotion, if there be a sound bottle of Sherry 
 in Phillipon's cellar." 
 
 " Yes, mv dear Dillon, but you must recollect 
 that our skins are not more impervious than those 
 of other men to steel and lead. There's work 
 cut out for us, take mv word for it, before we'll 
 lie made free of the Frenchman's wine-bin." 
 
 " Pshaw ! — I would not give a dollar to insure 
 my company ; and auld Clooty will never leave 
 in the lurch a steady servant like you, Ned. 
 Dang it, I wish it were dark, and the work 
 begun. I intend to sup in a convent to night." 
 
 " Indeed ! then ' would it were supper time, 
 and all were well' ' , — and we parted. 
 
 Twilight came, the sun set o-loriouslv, and 
 many an hundred eyes looked their last upon
 
 262 STORM OF BADAJOZ. 
 
 him that evening. Soon after eight the regi- 
 ments were under arms, and the roll of each 
 called over in an under voice. A death-like 
 silence prevailed — the division (the light) formed 
 behind the quarry in front of Santa Maria, and 
 after a pause of half an hour, the forlorn hope 
 passed quietly along, supported by a storming 
 party consisting of three hundred volunteers. I 
 was attached to the former. We moved silently 
 — not a man coughed or whispered — and in 
 three minutes afterwards the division followed. 
 
 At that moment the deep bell of the cathedral 
 of St. John struck ten* — the most perfect silence 
 reigned around, and except the softened foot-fall 
 of the storming parties as they struck the turf 
 with military precision, not a movement was 
 audible. A terrible suspense — a horrible still— 
 
 * A rocket rose from the town, and some dozen blue- 
 lights "and fire-balls were flung from the parapets, and 
 threw a lurid glare on the ground in front of the ramparts. 
 Gradually the light died away — a deeper gloom suc- 
 ceeded — " Forward ! " was only whispered.
 
 STORM OF BADAJOZ. 263 
 
 ness — darkness — a compression of the breathing 
 — the dull and ill-defined outline of the town — 
 the knowledge that similar and simultaneous 
 movements were making on other points — the 
 certainty that two or three minutes would pro- 
 bably involve the forlorn hope in ruin, or make 
 it the beacon-light to victory — all these made 
 the heart throb quicker, and long for the burst- 
 ing of the storm, when wild success should 
 crown our daring, or hope and life should end 
 together. 
 
 On we went; one solitary musket was dis- 
 charged beside the breach, but none answered it. 
 The light division moved forward rapidly, closing 
 up in columns at quarter distance. We reached 
 the ditch — the ladders were lowered — on rushed 
 the forlorn hope — on went the storming party. 
 The division were now on the brink of the sheer 
 descent, when a gun boomed from the parapet. 
 The earth trembled — a mine was fired — an ex- 
 plosion — an infernal hissing from lighted fusees 
 succeeded — and, like the raising of a curtain on
 
 264 STORM OF BADAJOZ. 
 
 the stage in the hellish glare, the French lining 
 the ramparts in crowds, the English storming 
 parties descending the ditch, were placed as dis- 
 tinctly visible to each other as if the hour was 
 noontide ! 
 
 A tremendous fire from the guns of the place, 
 which had been laid upon the approaches to the 
 breach, followed the explosion; but undauntedly 
 the storming-party cheered, and bravely the 
 French answered it. A murderous scene ensued, 
 for the breach was utterly impassable. Notwith- 
 standing the withering fire of musketry from the 
 parapets — light artillery brought immediately to 
 bear upon the breach — and the grape from every 
 gun upon the works that could play upon the 
 . assailants or supporting columns, the British 
 mounted. Hundreds were thrown back — and 
 hundreds promptly succeeded them. Almost 
 unharmed themselves, the French dealt death 
 around; and secure within defences that even in 
 daylight and to a force unopposed, would prove 
 almost insurmountable, they ridiculed the mad
 
 STORM OF BADAJOZ. 265 
 
 attempt ; and while they viewed from the para- 
 pets a thousand victims in the ditch, they called 
 in derision to the broken columns, and invited 
 them to come on. 
 
 I, though unwounded, was hurled from the 
 breach, and fell into the lunette, where, for a few 
 minutes, I had some difficulty to escape suffoca- 
 tion. The guns of the bastions swept the place 
 where I was lying, and the constant plash of 
 grape upon the surface of the water was a sound 
 any thing but agreeable. The cheers had ceased 
 — the huzzas of the enemy at our repulse had 
 died away — and from the ramparts they amused 
 themselves with picking off any one they pleased. 
 Fire-balls occasionally lighted up the ditch, and 
 showed a mass of wretched men lying in the mud 
 and water, mobbed together, unable to offend, 
 and, poor wretches ! at the mercy of the enemy, 
 for retreat was impracticable. As the French 
 continued hurling cart-wheels, planks, and por- 
 tions of the masonry of the parapet, which our 
 own battering guns had destroyed, it was pitiable
 
 266 STORM OF BADAJOZ. 
 
 to see the feeble efforts of the wounded, as they 
 vainly strove to crawl from beneath the rampart, 
 and avoid the murderous missiles that were mo- 
 mently showered down. Now and again, the 
 gurglinc: noise of some one drowning close beside 
 was heard in the interval of the firing ; while the 
 groaning; of those from whom life was ebbing — 
 the cursing of others in their agonies — joined to 
 the demon laugh which was frequent from the 
 breach above, gave the passing scene an infernal 
 colouring, that no time shall ever obliterate from 
 the memory of him who witnessed it. 
 
 Yet never was the indomitable courage of 
 Britain more signally displayed than during the 
 continuance of this murderous attempt. Although 
 at dusk, when the English batteries ceased their 
 lire, the breaches were sufficiently shattered to 
 be practicable, during the three hours that inter- 
 vened before the assault commenced, Philippon 
 had exhausted his matchless ingenuity in render- 
 ing the entrance of a storming-party by the ruined 
 bastions utterly impossible. Harrows and planks,
 
 STORM OF BADAJOZ. 267 
 
 studded with spikes and bound firmly by iron 
 chains, were suspended in front of the battered 
 parapet like a curtain — a deep retrenchment cut on" 
 the breach from the interior, even had an enemy 
 surmounted it — and a line of chevaux-de-frise, 
 bristling with sword blades, protected the top. 
 M ith these insurmountable obstacles before them, 
 and death rained upon them from every side, 
 even in handful s the licrht and fourth divisions 
 continued their desperate attempts ; and many of 
 the bravest, after struggling to the summit of the 
 bastion, were shot down in their vain attempts to 
 tear defences awav, which no living man could 
 clamber over. 
 
 While the sanguinary struggle was proceeding 
 in the bastions of Trinidad and Santa Maria, the 
 castle was escaladed on the right, and the bastion 
 of San Vincente afterwards, by the fifth divi- 
 sion on the opposite quarter of the town. After 
 a fierce contest of an hour, the third division 
 mounted by their ladders, and driving all before 
 them at the bayonet's point, fairly carried the
 
 268 STORM OF BADAJOZ. 
 
 place by storm, and remained in possession of the 
 castle. Nothing could surpass the daring gal- 
 lantry of the escalade; and the heap of dead 
 men and broken ladders strewn next morning 
 before the lofty walls, showed how vigorously the 
 enemy had resisted it. 
 
 Leith's division were unfortunately delayed 
 from their scaling ladders not arriving for an hour 
 after the grand assault had been made upon the 
 breaches. But they nobly redeemed lost time ; 
 and while the Portuguese Cacadores distracted 
 the garrison by a false attack on Pardaleras, a 
 brigade of the fifth overcame every opposition, 
 and, supported by the rest of the division, drove 
 all before them from the ramparts, and established 
 themselves in the town. 
 
 It is astonishing, even in the spring-tide of 
 success, how the most trivial circumstances will 
 damp the courage of the bravest, and check the 
 most desperate in their career. The storming- 
 party of the fifth had escaladed a wall of thirty 
 feet with wretched ladders — forced an uninjured
 
 STORM OF BADAJOZ. 269 
 
 palisade — descended a deep counterscarp — and 
 crossed the lunette behind it — and this was 
 effected under a converging fire from the bastions, 
 and a well-sustained fusilade, while but a few of 
 the assailants could force their way together, and 
 form on the rampart when they got up. But 
 the leading sections persevered until the brigade 
 was completely lodged within the parapet ; and 
 now united, and supported by the division who 
 followed fast, what could withstand their advance? 
 They were sweeping forward with the bayonet — 
 the French were broken and dispersed — when, at 
 this moment of brilliant success, a port-fire, which 
 a retreating gunner had flung upon the rampart, 
 was discovered. A vague alarm seized the lead- 
 ing files — they fancied some mischief was in- 
 tended — and imagined the success, which their 
 own desperate gallantry had achieved, was but a 
 ruse of the enemy to lure them to destruction. 
 " It is a mine — and they are springing it !" 
 shouted a soldier. Instantly the leaders of the 
 storming-party turned. It was impossible for
 
 270 STORM OF BADAJOZ. 
 
 their officers to undeceive them. The French 
 perceived the panic — rallied and pursued — and 
 friends and foes came rushing back tumultuously 
 upon a supporting regiment, (the 38th) that was 
 fortunately formed in reserve upon the ramparts. 
 This momentary success of the besieged "was 
 dearly purchased — a volley was thrown closely in 
 — a bayonet rush succeeded — and the French were 
 scattered before the fresh assailants, never to form 
 again. The fifth division poured in. Every thing 
 gave way that opposed it. The cheering was 
 heard above the fire — the bugles sounded an 
 advance — the enemy became distracted and dis- 
 heartened — and again the light and fourth divi- 
 sions, or, alas ! their skeletons, assisted by Hay's 
 brigade, advanced to the breaches. Scarcely any 
 opposition was made. They entered — and Bada- 
 joz was our own ! Philippon, finding all lost, 
 retired across the river to Fort San Christoval, 
 and early next day surrendered. 
 
 During this doubtful conflict, Wellington, with 
 his staff, occupied a commanding position in front
 
 STORM OF BADAJOZ. 271 
 
 of the tete-de-pont that defends the great stone 
 bridge across the Guadiana. Those who hap- 
 pened to be around hitn describe the scene, as wit- 
 nessed from the heights above San Chris to val, as 
 grand and awfully imposing. The deep silence 
 after the divisions moved to their respective posi- 
 tions — the chime of the town clock — the darkness 
 of the night — the sudden blaze of rockets and blue- 
 lights from the garrison, followed by an interval 
 of deeper obscurity — the springing of the mine, 
 succeeded by the roar of artillery, and bursting 
 of shells — while musketry and grenades kept up 
 an endless spattering — all this, added to the un- 
 certainty of the assault, must have tried even the 
 iron nerve of the conqueror of Napoleon's best 
 commanders. 
 
 Presently an officer rode up at speed, to say 
 that the attempt to force the breaches had failed, 
 and the result had been most disastrous. Pale, 
 but unmoved, the English general issued 
 calmly his orders for a fresh brigade to support 
 the light division; and the aide-de-camp gal-
 
 272 STORM OF BADAJOZ. 
 
 loped off to have it executed. An interval of 
 harrowing suspense followed. Another of the 
 staff' came up in haste. " My lord, General 
 Picton is in the castle." " Ha ! are you certain?" 
 " Yes, my lord. I entered it with the 88th." 
 " Tis well — let him keep it. Withdraw the 
 divisions from the breach." An hour after, 
 another horseman announced the fifth division to 
 have completely succeeded in escalading San 
 Vincent. " Bravely done ! Badajoz is ours !" — 
 was the cool half muttered observation of the 
 British commandant. 
 
 Well — I have been tedious — but these boys 
 seem interested in the details of occurrences 
 which marked that fearful night, and I shall now 
 relate the strange adventure that consigned an 
 orphan to my charge. 
 
 When our division entered the town all oppo- 
 sition was at an end ; for the French, fearing 
 that a dreadful retaliation would ensue, precipi- 
 tately abandoned the city, and secured themselves 
 in Fort Christoval until they effected a capitu-
 
 £TORM OF BADA.TOZ. 273 
 
 lation, and were permitted to retire to Elvas. In 
 the morning I obtained a few hours repose, not- 
 withstanding the deafening yells of the excited sol- 
 diery, and their incessant discharge of musketry, 
 as they went firing through the streets, or blew 
 open the doors of the wine-houses, and indeed of 
 all other dwellings, which were vainly closed 
 against them. I had seen the breaches in all 
 their horrors — I had again crossed them in day- 
 light — and I turned my steps towards the castle 
 and bastion of San Vincent, to view the places 
 where my more fortunate comrades had forced 
 their way. 
 
 It was nearly dusk, and the few hours while I 
 slept had made a frightful change in the condi- 
 tion and temper of the soldiery. In the morning 
 they were obedient to their officers, and preserved 
 the semblance of subordination ; now they were 
 in a state of furious intoxication — discipline was 
 forgotten — and the splendid troops of yesterday 
 had become a fierce and sanguinary rabble, dead 
 to every touch of human feeling, and filled with 
 
 VOL. II. T
 
 274 STORM OF BADAJOZ. 
 
 every demoniac passion that can brutalize the 
 man. The town was in horrible confusion, and 
 on every side frightful tokens of military license 
 met the eye. One street, as I approached the 
 castle, was almost choked up with broken furni- 
 ture ; for the houses had been gutted from the 
 cellar to the garret, the partitions torn down, and 
 even the beds ripped and scattered to the winds, 
 in the hope that gold might be found concealed. A 
 convent at the end of the strada of Saint John 
 was in flames ; and I saw more than one wretched 
 nun in the arms of a drunken soldier. 
 
 Farther on the confusion seemed greater. 
 Brandy and wine casks were rolled out before 
 the stores ; some were full, some half drunk, but 
 more staved in mere wantonness, and the liquors 
 running through the kennel. Many a harrowing 
 scream saluted the ear of the passer by— many a 
 female supplication was heard asking in vain for 
 mercy. How could it be otherwise, when it is 
 remembered that twenty thousand furious and 
 licentious madmen were loosed upon an immense
 
 STORM OF BADAJOZ- 27-5 
 
 population, among which many of the loveliest 
 women upon earth might be found? All within 
 that devoted city was at the disposal of an infu- 
 riated army, over whom, for the time, control 
 was lost, aided by an infamous collection of camp 
 followers, who were, if possible, more sanguinary 
 and pitiless even than those who survived the 
 storm ! 
 
 It is useless to dwell upon a scene from which 
 the heart revolts. I verily believe that few 
 females in this beautiful town were saved that 
 night from insult. The noblest and the beggar 
 — the nun, and the wife and daughter of the 
 artisan — youth and age — all were involved in 
 general ruin. None were respected, and few con- 
 sequently escaped. The madness of those despe- 
 rate brigands was variously exhibited ; some fired 
 through doors and windows ; others at the church 
 bells ; many, at the wretched inhabitants as they 
 fled into the streets, to escape the bayonets of the 
 savages who were demolishing their propertv 
 within doors ; while some wretches, as if blood 
 
 t2
 
 276 STORM OF BADAJOZ. 
 
 had not flowed in sufficient torrents already, shot 
 from the windows their own companions as they 
 staggered on below. What chances had the 
 miserable inhabitants of escaping death, when 
 more than one officer perished by the bullets and 
 bayonets of the very men, whom a few hours 
 before he had led to the assault ? 
 
 As evening advanced, the streets became more 
 dangerous, and after I had examined the spot 
 from which the escalade of the castle had been 
 effected, I determined to leave the fortress by the 
 first sallyport, and return for the night to our 
 half-deserted camp; for every one who could 
 frame an excuse, had flocked into the luckless 
 town for plunder, and the tents were in many 
 places left without an occupant. Having been 
 for a week quartered in the city after the last 
 year's siege, I. fancied that I could find my way 
 to the flying bridge ; but the attempt was not an 
 easy one. A swarm of drunken rioters infested 
 the road ; and at last I resolved to leave the more 
 frequented streets, and endeavour to free myself
 
 STORM OF BADAJOZ. 277 
 
 from this infernal scene of tumult and villany, by 
 a safer but more devious path. 
 
 I turned down an unfrequented lane. I re- 
 membered that a lamp before an image of the 
 Virgin had formerly burned at the corner, but 
 of course it had been unattended to during the 
 horrors of the past night. Not fifty paces from 
 the entrance, a dead man lay upon his face. I 
 looked at the body carelessly — life was scarcely 
 extinct, for the blood was oozing from an immense 
 wound in the back ; and as the jacket was still 
 smoking, the musket of the assassin had pro- 
 bably been touching the wretched man, when the 
 murderer discharged it. .It was the corpse of a 
 dragoon ; he, of course, had stolen into the town 
 for plunder, and the unhappy delinquent paid a 
 deep penalty for his crime. He held a loaded 
 pistol in his hand. I wrenched it from his grasp 
 with difficulty ; for even in death, he clutched it. 
 I was now better armed, and I hurried down the 
 lane in the direction of the sallyport. 
 
 This unpretending quarter appeared to have
 
 278 STORM OF BADAJOZ. 
 
 partially escaped the ravages to which the better 
 portion of the town had been exposed. Only a 
 few of the outer doors were broken in, and mo- 
 mently as I proceeded, the yells and firing became 
 more distant. Just at the bottom of the lane 
 there was a large inn. Within all was quiet as 
 the grave — business and bustle were over. No 
 doubt the spoilers had been there, and, save in an 
 upper window, not a light was to be seen. On 
 coming up, the cause of its desolation was mani- 
 fest. The outer door had been blown open, and 
 a dozen casks, some spilt or staved, others lying 
 untouched before the gate, showed too plainly 
 that its remote situation had not screened it from 
 the plunderers. 
 
 Two lanes branched off to the right and to the 
 left. To choose between them puzzled me, and 
 I halted to determine which I should trust myself 
 to. I was still undetermined, when an uproar, in 
 which several voices united, arose in the upper 
 story of the deserted inn, and apparently in that 
 room where I had observed the light burning.
 
 STORM OF BADAJOZ. 279 
 
 The report of a musket was followed by a shriek 
 so loud, so horrible, so long sustained, that even 
 yet it peals upon my ear. I forgot all personal 
 consideration — and, as if directed by a fatality, 
 rushed into the gate, and ascended the staircase. 
 Cries and curses directed me onwards. The door 
 of the chamber from which they issued was 
 unclosed. I sprang forward, and the scene within 
 was infinitely worse than even the outrages I had 
 witnessed could have harbingered. 
 
 Near the door, a Spaniard, whose dress and 
 appearance were those of a wealthy farmer, or a 
 small proprietor of land, was extended on the 
 floor quite dead ; and a ruffian in the uniform of 
 one of the regiments of the third division, was 
 standing over the body, busily engaged, as well 
 as drunkenness would admit, in reloading his 
 musket. Beyond the victim and his murderer a 
 more horrible sight met the eye. The woman, 
 whose piercing scream had attracted me to the 
 scene of slaughter, was writhing in the last ago- 
 nies of death, while a Portuguese Ca^adore
 
 280 STORM OF BADAJOZ. 
 
 coolly wiped the bayonet that had been reddened 
 in her blood. What occurred on my entrance 
 was the transaction of a few moments. Both 
 ruffians turned their rage on me, and I endea- 
 voured to anticipate them by commencing hosti- 
 lities. With the pistol I had taken from the dra- 
 goon I shot the Irishman — I blush to say it — but 
 he was my countryman — through the heart, and 
 then attacked the Cacadore. In size and strength 
 we were pretty fairly matched. He was armed 
 with a fixed bayonet — I with a sabre, ground to 
 the keenness of a knife ; but his own crime gave 
 me the advantage, and sealed his fate. He was 
 a cool and dangerous cut-throat, and collecting 
 all his energies for a rush, he thought to transfix 
 me against the door. We had light enough for 
 a brief combat, as the drapery and] curtains of 
 the room were in a blaze. He gathered himself 
 for the trial — I was ready — he made a full 
 lunge with all his force, but his foot slipped in 
 the blood of her whom he had just massacred, 
 and a slight parry averting his push, the bayonet
 
 STORM OF BADAJOZ. 281 
 
 burst through the panel up to die socket, and 
 the villain was at my mercy. As he vainly strove 
 to disengage his weapon, I stepped back and 
 struck him across the head. He fell forward. 
 Thrice I repeated the cut — for the scoundrel was 
 full of life — and I was not contented until his 
 scull was fractured by reiterated blows, and the 
 brain scattered against the wainscot. I see you 
 shudder, Mortimer ; you have yet to learn how 
 quickly war will brutalize us. At your years I 
 could not have treated a rabid dog so savagely; 
 but that scene withered every feeling of human 
 pity, and I for the tune was as truculent as the 
 villains I had dispatched. 
 
 The curtains blazed more fiercely, while I 
 stood like a presiding demon above four bleeding 
 corpses — the murderers and their victims. The 
 blood of the dead Cacadorc had spirted over me, 
 and from hilt to point my sabre was crimsoned. 
 On the floor a quantity of gold and silver coins 
 were scattered, while the glare of the burning 
 tapestry gave a wild and infernal light that iitted
 
 282 STORM OF BADAJOZ. 
 
 well that scene of slaughter. I could stay no 
 longer — the woodwork was already in flames — 
 and a few minutes would wrap the devoted house 
 in a sheet of fire. I stooped and picked a 
 cartridge from the cartouch-box of the dead Irish- 
 man, to reload my pistol. Something beneath a 
 chair sparkled. Was it the eyes of a dog ? I 
 removed the antique and cumbrous piece of furni- 
 ture — and there a child, some three years old, had 
 cowered for shelter ! To leave it to perish in the 
 flames was impossible. I caught it up — it never 
 cried — for terror I suppose had taken away the 
 power of utterance, and rushing from the room, 
 found myself again in the street. 
 
 I had escaped one peril only to rush upon 
 another. Seven or eight men were drinking 
 from a spirit cask, which lay before the door 
 of the burning hostelry. They were loaded with 
 plunder of divers kinds — and with the little reason 
 left, were endeavouring to secure it by leaving 
 the sacked city and hastening to the camp. That 
 camp they were not likely to find, for every wine-
 
 STORM OF BADAJOZ. 283 
 
 butt in their route was duly tasted as they passed 
 
 along. 
 
 ' My appearance was instantly observed. " It's 
 
 one of the foreigners,'' said he who" seemed to 
 
 be the leader, as he remarked my dark uniform — 
 
 " Shoot him, Jim ! " 
 
 Fortunately the command was given in Irish, 
 and I replied promptly in the same language. 
 In a few moments we understood each other 
 perfectly. They wanted to secure their booty, 
 and I volunteered to be their leader, and effect 
 a retreat. 
 
 To prohibit drinking for the future, under a 
 threat of abandoning them instantly, was my first 
 order ; and it was, though reluctantly, acceded 
 to. I next examined their arms, and ordered the 
 muskets that had been discharged to be reloaded. 
 The booty was next secured ; and forming them 
 into something like military order, I gave the 
 word to march, and proceeded towards the sally- 
 port, the leader of a banditti, whom no considera- 
 tion, but an avaricious anxiety to save the pro-
 
 284 STORM OP BADAJOZ. 
 
 (luce of the night's villany, could have induced 
 to quit a scene of violence and blood so congenial 
 to their brutal fancies. I brought them and the 
 hapless orphan safely from the town; although 
 their own pugnacity, and the appearance of the 
 rich booty they had obtained, involved us in 
 several skirmishes with parties who were flocking 
 into the city, on the same vile errand as that in 
 which my " charge of foot"" had been so success- 
 fully engaged. 
 
 " And did you discover who the murdered 
 parents of the poor infant were ?" 
 
 " Alas ! — no. The orphan's parentage remains 
 to this hour wrapped in obscurity. When, after 
 two days and nights of violence and pillage, Lord 
 Wellington with difficulty repressed those dread- 
 ful excesses, by marching in a Portuguese bri- 
 gade, attended by the provost- marshal with the 
 gallows and triangles, I hastened, as soon as I 
 could venture it safely, to the place where I had 
 witnessed the slaughter of the unfortunate stran- 
 gers. The inn was burned to the ground ; but I
 
 STORM OF BADAJOZ. 285 
 
 made out the proprietors, v.ho had obtained a 
 temporary shelter in one of the detached offices 
 that had escaped the flames. They could give 
 me no information, nor did they even know the 
 names of their murdered inmates. They, poor 
 victims ! had arrived in Badajoz from a distant 
 part of Andalusia only the day before Ave invested 
 the town, and remained there during the siege. 
 Having a large sum of money in their possession, 
 they fancied themselves safer in the city than in 
 attempting to remove homewards, as the roads in 
 the vicinity were infested by guerillas and pro- 
 fessed banditti. They stopped accordingly, till 
 Badajoz fell ; and, in common with many hun- 
 dreds of unfortunates, their lives and property 
 paid a sad penalty for the obstinacy of Philip- 
 pon's defence." 
 
 " And what became of the poor orphan, 
 O'Connor?'' asked O'Shaughncssy. 
 
 " I sent him to England, placed him at ;i 
 school, and when he is old enough he shall be a 
 soldier. Should I fall, he is not forgotten. But
 
 286 STORM OF BADAJOZ. 
 
 come — to bed — to bed. Sound be vour slum- 
 bers, boys ! — before the night of to-morrow many 
 a stirring spirit will be quiet enough — and on the 
 sward of a battle field, " sleep the sleep that 
 knows not breaking."
 
 THE DEAD LIEUTENANT. 
 
 Vain was ev'ry ardent vow, 
 Never yet did Heaven allow, 
 Love so warm, so wild, to last. 
 
 Mooke.
 
 289 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 THE DEAD LIEUTENANT. 
 
 The he is no sadder office imposed upon a 
 soldier than to arrange the simple property 
 of some departed comrade for the rude 
 auction to which, when death occurs on service, 
 the assets of the fallen are submitted. Every 
 thing recals the deceased ; and every article, how- 
 ever trifling, renews past recollections. In that 
 jacket, haply, the tale was told which set the table 
 in a roar ; and these epaulets may have sparkled 
 in the ball-room, or glittered on the field of battle. 
 
 In a convent adjoining the bridge of Vera, a 
 young officer had expired shortly after the night 
 encounter between the British light troops and 
 the French column, which forced that passage in 
 
 vol. it. u
 
 290 THE DEAD LIEUTENANT. 
 
 their retreat. Though vastly superior in force, 
 and -with darkness and a storm favouring the 
 attack, the posts were gallantly contested; and 
 when the rifles were obliged to yield to numbers, 
 they occupied the convent walls, and kept up 
 a fire so incessant and well directed, that the 
 narrow bridge was heaped with corpses, and the 
 loss of the retiring enemy was computed at nearly 
 a thousand men. The British casualties were 
 comparatively trifling — and Frederick Selby was 
 the only officer that fell. 
 
 Nature had never designed Selby for the trade 
 of arms. His constitution was weak, and his 
 appearance effeminate. He was shy and timid 
 among strangers — wanted decision to seize on 
 fortune if she smiled — and if she chose to frown, 
 he had no reactive spirit to bear the rub, and 
 trust boldly to the chances of to-morrow. From 
 his reserved character he had no intimates — 
 and avoided all friendly intercourse with his bro- 
 ther officers. On service he performed his duty 
 as a thing of course, but never displayed the ardour
 
 THE DEAD LIEUTENANT. 291 
 
 of a martial spirit; and in the winter season 
 ■when a campaign ceased, he seemed to dream his 
 life away ; how he employed himself in canton- 
 ments none knew, and indeed none inquired. 
 
 He was the second son of a gentleman of con- 
 siderable fortune, and had, as it was generally 
 understood, been intended for the church. He 
 graduated accordingly at one of the universities ; 
 when circumstances occurred which changed the 
 colour of his profession, and sent to the field one 
 far better suited for the cloister. 
 
 Death, however, disclosed the secret, that 
 while living he had kept so closely ; and in his 
 writing-case, the memorials of an unfortunate 
 attachment were found. He had loved a female 
 of humble parentage, and, it would appear, that 
 a sentimental engagement had been formed, dis- 
 covered, and dissolved. To remove him far from 
 the object of his passion, his father had pur- 
 chased a commission, and sent him upon service. 
 The wide sea rolled between him and the for- 
 bidden fair one; but the heart remained un-
 
 292 THE DEAD LIEUTENANT. 
 
 changed — and he died cherishing a passionwhich 
 time and absence could not subdue. 
 
 That most of the private hours of the de- 
 ceased were spent in literary composition, many 
 fragments in prose and poetry, mixed among 
 letters from members of his family, proved. The 
 effusions generally alluded to the unhappy at- 
 tachment that had sent him from his native land ; 
 and f: "»e of them were addressed to his mistress. 
 These were, of course, carefully destroyed. One, 
 however, was of a different description — it seemed 
 some legendary tale connected with the ancient 
 house of Selby. On turning over a few pages 
 O'Brien ascertained that there was nothing in the 
 manuscript to render its destruction necessary; 
 and, as the parades were over and military duties 
 ended for the day, he amused his companions 
 in the bivouac, by reading them the legend of 
 " Barbara Maxwell." 
 
 end or VOL. II. 
 
 WHITING, BEAUJ-OKT HOUSE, STRAND. 
 
 1
 
 JU 
 
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