[*] The equal battle of the Fingalians,—a Highland proverb."Long life to you, major!" cried many of the Highlanders; and hundreds of soldiers belonging to the 66th, 34th, and other corps of the division huzzaed him loudly. On receiving from the duke'scontador(steward) the purse of thirtyonzas, Campbell, knowing that Dugald was too proud to touch a maravedi of the money placed it in the hands of Alozegui, telling him not to be cast down, as Dugald and himself had beaten better men than ever trod the realm of Spain. This taunt only stung more deeply the fiery and enraged Spaniard, who scorned to receive the purse, which he tossed among the people, and leaping over the barriers, disappeared. Campbell waved his hummel-bonnet (a plain cap without feathers) to the assembled multitude, and withdrew to finish the night over a pigskin with Don Ascasibur, and tell endless narratives about Egypt and Sir Ralph.During that evening, from a thousand little circumstances which it is needless to rehearse, it was evident to Ronald that Louis Lisle was deeply enamoured of the beautiful Virginia; and that she was not unfavourable to him was also manifest, although she took every means to conceal it: but Ronald had a sharp eye for these matters. What the opinion of the proud old duke might be on such a subject it was not difficult to say; and his conscience would not in the least have prevented him from employing the poniard of some matador to rid his family of such a suitor. However, his mind was at that moment too much taken up with political schemes to permit him to observe the growing passion between his daughter and the young Scottish subaltern, to whom twenty days' residence in his palace had given every opportunity to press his suit that a lover could desire.The party at the De T—— palace broke up about eleven o'clock, and ruminating on the probabilities of Louis's winning the donna, should he really propose for her hand, Ronald passed slowly through the marble square, and down a street leading towards his billet, which was near the Calle Mayor. A gush of light, streaming into the darkness through the open portal and traceried windows of an illuminated chapel, invited him to enter, in expectation of beholding some solemn religious ceremony; but the building was entirely empty, and the blaze of light proceeded from some hundreds of tapers burning around the gilded shrine of the patron saint of Aranjuez. From this spot a strong flood of crimson light glared through the nave and chancel, tinging with the hue of blood the black marble pavement, the slender pillars, and the groined roof of fretted stone work. Many mouldy portraits of saints adorned the walls; around the lighted shrine were hung certain strange memorials, placed there by the piety of those whom the saint was supposed to have cured. Crutches, even wooden legs and many stucco casts of deformed limbs, were there displayed, all doubtless the work of cunning priests, to impose upon the credulity of the Spaniards. But what chiefly raised his wonder, was some hundred little images of children, with which the place was absolutely crowded.His attention was next attracted by several standards, the trophies of war, which hung from the highest part of the chapel, where the roof rose somewhat in the form of a dome. These belonged to various nations; and one, by the crescents on it, he judged to be Moorish; but the other two he remarked more particularly. The one was the ensign of a British ship of war which had been wrecked on the coast of Spain; the other was an ancient Scottish standard of white silk, crossed with St. Andrew's blue cross, and splendidly embroidered with silver thistles. About the latter he could not obtain the least information, although he made every inquiry next day. But it was probably the regimental colour of some of the Scottish auxiliaries who served in the Low Countries against the Emperor Charles the Fifth. Ronald was revolving in his own mind the means of capturing or destroying both these standards, when the entrance of the Condé de Truxillo diverted him from his purpose, and saved to the Spaniards those trophies which most likely still adorn the chapel royal of Aranjuez."What adventure are you in search of now, senor, that you have not yet sought your billet in the Calle Mayor?""I understand," replied the condé, "that the Carbineros of Medina del Campo marched into Aranjuez about sun-set. I have a very dear brother, an officer in them, and I am searching for some one to direct me to his quarters, late as the hour is. Manuel and I were very dear friends in youth, being educated together at our old castle near Truxillo; but we have not seen each other for six years, as our regiments have always campaigned in different provinces. He was a slender youth, without a hair on his lip when I saw him last, but now he must be a stout and well-whiskered cavalier. Ah, how much I long to behold him!""I regret, condé, that I can give you no information as to where the quarters of the Carbineros are. Some of the quarter-guards may perhaps inform you.""Ho! senor Stuart," exclaimed Truxillo, as his eye fell on the shrine with all its little images and blazing tapers. "Lo, you now! behold what rogues our padres are. Do you know the meaning of all these images?""No. I own I was somewhat puzzled to discover.""Well, senor," answered Truxillo with a loud laugh, "all these are the images of children born unto ladies who had long pined for them before they had visited this miraculous shrine,—so the monks tell us.""Strange, if true.""Its reputed sanctity is truly amazing; and all the dames of old and new Castile, Leon, and Arragon consider a visit to this place a sovereign remedy. They are shown the tomb of the saint in the vaults below; and its influence, aided by the attentions of a few stout padres, certainly has brought about singular cures; and—— But here comes my servant; he has been searching for the quarters of the Carbineros, and will—— Hah!" exclaimed Truxillo, his countenance changing as a servant belonging to the De T—— family entered the chapel, "do you seek me?"The servant, who wore the orange-coloured livery of the duke, replied by whispering something into the ear of Don Balthazzar, whose "brow grew black as thunder.""Falsificador!madman! what is this you have dared to tell me?" he exclaimed, furiously grasping the menial by the throat."The solemn truth, most noble condé. Release me! San Juan in the wilderness could not speak more truly. I am faithful to you,—I am, by the virgin!—Oh—" It is probable the fellow would never have spoken again, had not Ronald released his neck from the clutch of the condé."Cavalier!" exclaimed the latter, seizing Ronald's hand, "I know you to be brave and honourable as man can be. I have been basely betrayed this night. Will you follow me, that I may recover my lost honour, or perish? A deadly insult has been offered to me.""I pledge you my word I will, Balthazzar. But what has this trembling blockhead told you?""Satanas! that Donna Olivia, to whom not an hour ago I plighted my love and troth, has even now a cavalier in her chamber.""Impossible; he lies!""He does not—I know that he does not. I have bribed him to watch his mistress, and have long found him faithful. But Olivia, false and base Olivia! I have long suspected her falsehood and coquetry, and this night I will fearfully revenge them both upon herself. It must be Carlos Avallo. Malediction! I will slay him before her face. By our Lady of the Rock! my most sacred oath, I swear it!"Balthazzar rushed away from the chapel, and Stuart followed to prevent him, if possible, from committing any outrage, and pursued him through the dark streets at his utmost speed. In a few seconds they stood before the mansion they had quitted but a short time ago. It was completely involved in darkness, save one room, from the windows of which a light straggled through the white curtains upon the balcony from which they had witnessed the bull-fight."The sisters sleep in separate apartments; that is Olivia's," whispered Truxillo, in a voice husky with the passions which possessed his heart. "Did you not see a tall shadow pass the window?""Let me entreat you, noble condé, to stay—to hold but for a single moment!""Carajo!may it be my last if I do!" replied the other fiercely, as he grasped a carved stone ornament projecting from the wall, and swung himself into the balcony, where he drew his sword, and applied his eye to the opening of the window curtains. Apprehensive that he might commit some rash deed, Ronald followed him, but with infinite trouble, rage having enabled the condé to climb by means which the other could not find. He was not without some secret fears that this rival cavalier might be Louis Lisle, and grasping Truxillo by the arm, he detained him by main force; and had the parties within been less occupied with themselves than they were, they must undoubtedly have heard the half-muttered threats of Balthazzar, and the scuffling which ensued on the balcony.Through the half-opened casement they surveyed the chamber and its occupants. The sleeping-place of the donna was certainly a splendid one; the hangings, the chairs, the bed, and covering of the estrado, raised at one end of the floor, were all of white or rose-coloured velvet, fringed and embroidered with gold, and every thing else was of corresponding richness. A lamp, the globe of which was of rose-coloured glass, shed a warm light through the apartment; and three large vases of fresh flowers, placed on the verge of theestrado, gave forth an agreeable perfume. In a splendid easy-chair, which glittered with gilding and gilt nails, the beautiful Olivia was seated near her toilet-table,—the looseness of her dress and the disorder of her ringlets showing that she had been preparing for repose before her visitor had entered by the window, a place of ingress used oftener than the door by Spanish lovers. An officer in a Spanish cavalry uniform was kneeling at her feet, and his cloak and helmet lay on the floor near him."Lo! holy Virgin, a pretty piece of daring," said the lady as they approached the window."Pardon me, beautiful one!" said the officer; "and remember, that if I had not visited you thus, I might never have seen you at all.""And what then, senor?""Cruel Olivia! can you trifle with a passion so earnest as mine?""A pretty fellow, to visit me like a bravo by the window, with a sword in your hand. This will teach me to bolt my shutters more securely. Come now, senor, I have heard quite enough of this: you must retire.O santos!should you be seen!""Heartless Olivia! and you bid me leave you thus?""Heartless? You are mighty gallant,mi amigo!""Remember that we march to-morrow, and I may never see you again.""Well, I suppose I shall not want for a husband. The Condé of Truxillo, Pedro de Esquivias, or Carlos Avallo will, any of them, be glad to have me when I choose. O 'tis a gay thing to be loved by many cavaliers! But leave me, I intreat—no, command you!" said the lady, curling up her black tresses with her white slender fingers."Grant me but a single kiss, Olivia, and I will retire never to trouble you again. I will seek death in our first encounter with the enemy.""You love yourself too well for that.""Grant me but one salute, and I leave you. Oh, after all the misery of my long year's absence, do not refuse me that!""Take it, thou falsepicaro, and be gone," replied the coquettish girl, pouting her cherry mouth, towards which the cavalier advanced his well-moustached lip."Perish first!" exclaimed the enraged Truxillo, rushing forward and driving his sword through the back and breast of the unfortunate lover. "Die in your audacity, whoever you are, you false interloper! Die, villain!" he added, repeating the stab; and the cavalier died without a groan. "Farewell for ever, false Olivia," cried the savage condé; "and remember that my love, unworthy as you are of it, alone protects you from the effects of my fury and disappointment!" He was about to leave the place, when his eye fell upon the countenance of the cavalier he had so ruthlessly and rashly slain. He was now lying stark and dead, the blood from his wounds streaming over the oaken floor of the room. Truxillo groaned deeply, and striking his forehead, staggered back, dropping his sword, while his countenance became pale and livid."El Espiritu Santo santissimo! O Dios mio!" he cried in a husky voice, the tone of which was heart-piercing and horrible, "I have slain my brother,—my brave brother!O Manuel el Carbinero,—is it you I have murdered? Ten thousand maledictions blast you, false woman! blast you, and follow you to all eternity! 'Tis you have wrought me this deadly sin!" And rushing into the balcony he sprung into the street, leaving Ronald in the apartment of the lady, standing irresolute and stupified with amazement at the suddenness of this catastrophe, which came to pass in less time than I have taken to record it. Olivia, whose voice had at first failed her in the extremity of her terror, now shrieked long and loudly to arouse the household, which she did so effectually, that in three minutes they were all mustered in her chamber, armed with all sorts of weapons, and among others Lisle with his drawn sword. Great indeed was their astonishment to see Ronald in the sleeping-room of Donna Olivia at midnight, and an officer lying dead on the floor, weltering in a pool of blood. All clamorously demanded an explanation of this singular scene, and the indignation of the old duke it is impossible to describe, such room was there for scandal in the story of a cavalier being slain at night in the bed-room of his daughter.Diavolo!thought he, all Spain, from Cape Ortegal to Gibraltar, will be ringing with the tale! Some of the females attempted to recover the lady, who had sunk on her bed in a swoon; while the others required Ronald, in shrill tones of anger and surprise, to give a detail of the matter. This he hesitated to do, not wishing to criminate the condé, and still less wishing to be taken for the culprit himself.In this dilemma the bustle and commotion were increased by the arrival of a pompous old alcalde, who dwelt opposite, and Senor Rubio, the notary, with six alguazils, who were for arresting Ronald on the instant; but, laying his hand on the hilt of his dirk, he vowed to run through the heart the first who laid a finger upon him; upon which the limbs of the law, recoiling, began to handle the locks of their heavytrabucos, and more blood would probably have been shed had not the alcalde interfered.This magistrate, whose person and authority the duke had always treated with contempt, was very glad to have opportunity of affronting him; and assuming as much consequence as he could, he administered an oath to Ronald in the Spanish manner, by swearing him across his sword and dirk, and then desiring him to relate what he knew of this matter,—and word for word his relation was committed to writing by the keen-eyed and sharp-visaged little notary. Englishmen might have doubted the relation; but in Spain the words of an honourable cavalier are not to be questioned, and the account proving satisfactory to the alcalde, in so far as concerned Ronald Stuart, he was permitted to retire; while Senor Rubio, and the six men with blunderbusses, were sent off in pursuit of the condé, whom they discovered on his knees before the very shrine he had made the subject of his jests an hour before. Three days afterwards he was tried by a general court-martial, composed of Spanish officers,—the General de Costa being president. Every man supposed his death to be certain; but he was, strange to say, acquitted. Yet life was no boon to poor Truxillo, who, being continually haunted by the miserable death of his brother, became reckless of existence, and by throwing himself madly in the way of danger, endeavoured to perish in expiation of the crime he had committed in the blindness of his rage and jealousy.This occurrence appeared for the present to be a death-blow to the hopes of Louis Lisle. On the following day the duke quitted Aranjuez with his family, retiring suddenly no one knew whither. He was so much enraged against Olivia, who indeed was not to blame, that he threatened to disgrace her for ever, by incarcerating her in theMonasterio de los Arrepentidas[*] of Seville, but the tears and entreaties of Donna Virginia made him change his intention: the sisters were separated, and for ever. Olivia was sent off to Galicia, and confined in a solitary convent among the wild ridges of the Sierra de Mondonedo, where, if living, she probably still resides.[*] A place of confinement for ladies who misbehave.CHAPTER III.THE SKIRMISH OF FUENTE DUENNA. THE LEAGUEROF ALBA DE TORMES."Comrades, should it please high HeavenThat we see Castile once more,—Though we now go forth as outcasts,Sad, dishonoured, homeless, poor,—We'll return with glory laden,And the spoilings of the Moor."The Cid.About the middle of October the legions of Marshals Jourdan and Soult, having formed a junction, advanced, under the command of the latter, fifty thousand strong, from Valencia on Madrid, and in a short time arrived within a few leagues of Aranjuez. Combining his forces with those of Generals Elio and Freire, and with the Spaniards of Don Carlos de Espagna, Sir Rowland Hill, at the head of forty thousand well-tried soldiers, moved to meet them, commencing his march from Aranjuez on the 23rd of October. Many a sorrowful farewell was said that morning, and many a bright eye grew dim as the retiring sound of the British drums died away among the windings of the Tagus. Crossing the latter, immediately below the walls of the palace, the division marched to Colmenare de Orijo, a town of Toledo. Here different brigades were posted at the several fords of the Tagus, by which Soult's infantry might attempt to pass. That at Fuente Duenna fell to the lot of the first brigade. On the second day after their bivouacking there, a party of the enemy's cavalry were seen approaching the river, either to cross or reconnoitre. The light company of the Gordon Highlanders, and Captain Blacier's company of the German rifles, were ordered to receive them at the ford. Unluckily for himself, Lisle accompanied "the light bobs" on this occasion as a volunteer, in place of an officer who was sick. Seaton commanded the whole, and he placed the companies in ambush among some laurel-bushes, willows, and long reeds which grew by the water-side, overlooking the place where the dragoons must cross if such was their intention. The Highlanders knelt down on the right knee, but the Germans, who were posted among the reeds, lay flat on the ground, and levelled their short rifles over the glazed tops of their shakoes, which they placed before them. All were ready to let fly a volley among the unsuspecting Frenchmen, who came forward at a gallop with their carbines unslung. The party consisted of nearly eighty heavy dragoons. An officer of cuirassiers and two others in staff uniform accompanied them. They drew their bridles at the brink of the river, and from his place of concealment Stuart recognised his friend De Mesmai in the cuirassier; and in one of the staff officers Monsieur Law, the Baron de Clappourknuis, in the other their late host at Aranjuez, the Duke of Alba de T——."Stuart," whispered Lisle, "is it possible, that the officer without the epaulets is really the duke?""Without doubt 'tis he.""How base and treacherous!""He will receive the reward of his treason instantly. It has always been whispered that he was false to King Ferdinand and his allies. A base wretch! to join the invaders of Spain when so many brave men are struggling with heart and hand to free her from the grasp of the Buonapartes. Evan, bring that officer down. Mark him when the word is given to fire.""Were he as fause as Menteith, an ounce o' cauld leed will settle him," replied Evan, blowing some loose powder from his lock. "I'll tak' him canny, and wing him aucht inches below the oxter,—that's just in the belt.""No, no, for God's sake!" whispered Louis to Stuart. "He is the father of Virginia de Alba, and were he as false as Judas that would save him.""Hush!" whispered Seaton, in the same low tone; "they are conversing, and I should be glad to hear the news from Valencia.""Monsieur le Ducwill perhaps be so good as to inform us whereabouts this infernal bridge of Fuente Duenna lies?" said De Mesmai."Ah!" chimed in the baron, in Spanish, "this is the place marked by the marshal in his map.""The bridge lies lower down the river," replied the duke; "but there is a ford in this neighbourhood, which I will have the honour to show you, senores.""Do so, in the devil's name!" replied De Mesmai hastily, while he surveyed the duke with an expression on his dark face which showed how much he despised such an auxiliary, notwithstanding his rank. "We have ridden quite far enough to see this ford, and when you have shown it to the baron, I will condescend to thank you.""De Mesmai!" said the baron, holding up his hand warningly."Bah!Monsieur le Baron,—I comprehend; the British may look for a visit in the morning, which will yield them more danger than delight. With your permission, Monsieur Law, after reconnoitring this ford we will retire as soon as possible, because I little like riding here in such open ground. These bushes opposite might contain a thousand riflemen, or some of your bare-legged brethren, than whom I would rather face the devil. I have provided a white stake to drive into the ground, which will mark the ford for Lamorciere's chasseurs, who lead the way in our attack on Hill's troops to-night.""Colonel Lamorciere shall be welcome," said Seaton, as De Mesmai moved his horse along the bank of the river, chanting gaily an old rondeau beginning with,—"Pauvres Anglais!Vous n'avez que de l'arrogance,Pauvres Anglais" &c. &c.At that moment the Highland bugle-boy, who knelt by Beaton's side, sounded "fire!"The bugle of the Germans answered on the left, and a deadly volley, which enveloped the whole place in smoke, was poured upon the French, nearly one half of whom fell from their saddles. Horses were seen galloping off in all directions, dragging their riders by the stirrup, or leaving them dead or dying on the ground. The traitor dashed his spurs into his horse's flanks and fled at full gallop, followed by the baron. But not so De Mesmai, whom this unexpected volley had filled with the utmost astonishment and ferocity, although it struck a temporary panic into the dragoons."Revenge!mes camarades. Follow me,—charge! By the name of the bomb! I will cleave to the gorget the first dastard who attempts to fly.Vive l'Empereur! Forward—charge!"Animated by his example they crossed the ford at a gallop, dashing the water right and left; and forcing their horses up to the bank, even while exposed to a hot fire, they fell furiously with hoof and blade among the scattered Highlanders. It was a piece of unexampled daring for a few dragoons to cross a river thus, under a hot fire from concealed musquetry."Vive l'Empereur! No quarter to the Germans!" shouted De Mesmai, leaping his horse over the underwood."Form square!" cried the deep and manly voice of Seaton. "Rally—rally! Quick, Highlanders, or you will be cut to pieces! Close to the centre, Germans and all; blow 'the assembly,' bugler! Hurrah, my lads! Shoulder to shoulder, Highlandmen! and give them the bayonet." With the speed of thought a rallying square was formed. Blacier's Germans and the Highlanders mingled, the long cross-hilted daggers of the former acting efficiently as bayonets when fixed to the muzzles of their rifles. Ronald, while dressing, as it is technically termed, one of the faces of the square, narrowly escaped a cut aimed at him by a dragoon, who was instantly shot by Angus Mackie, a private next to him; and Seaton had the feathers of his bonnet sheered away by a stroke from De Mesmai's sword. But the cavalry seldom came within a pike's length of them; the stunted brushwood, the broken nature of the ground, and the prostrate men and horses encumbered their advance, while the steady fire of the little square disheartened and disconcerted them. After two brave attempts to break the band of infantry, De Mesmai was compelled to recross the ford, leaving sixty dragoons killed or wounded behind him. Notwithstanding the hasty nature of their retreat, the twenty who retired with him cut down and carried off several of the straggling riflemen, dragging them across their holster-flaps by main strength of arm. Some of these they were soon compelled to drop, when galled in retreat by the fire of the victorious light infantry, who again lined the bank, and kept blazing away so long as they were within range."Well done 60th!" exclaimed Seaton, as he mustered the companies together. "'Tis hard to say whether the green jackets or the tartan kilts have distinguished themselves most this morning. Lamorciere's chasseurs will have need of other guides than the dragoons, if they visit the ford to-night.""Ech! Capitan Seetun, ve hab gibben demder teufels bradenfor breakfast,—ech, ech!" replied Blacier, cramming a quantity of tobacco into the bowl of a huge pipe, which he had pulled from the mouth of a Serjeant and transferred to his own. "Someting more betterer danwahr-sagenvill show dem de foord dis nicht,—de dragoons scarcely vill.""No; I believe not, Blacier, my old boy! I shall recommend you to the notice of Sir Rowland in my account of this affair. You have long deserved the brevet.""Der teufel hole dich! I tink so. Much obleege—much obleege to you."The Germans had suffered a little in this skirmish, several having been sabred by the French; but only two Highlanders were killed, and these by carbine shots. Every where around the ground was strewed with helmets, holsters, sabres, carbines, and the bodies of men and of horses, rolling about in agony, or lying motionless and still in death. Sometimes a head, a boot and spur, or a gauntletted hand rose above the clear current of the Tagus, and then sunk for ever, as some wounded straggler was swept down by the stream. All the arms and accoutrements lying scattered about were, in conformity with the usual practice, dashed to pieces and completely destroyed by the victors."We have escaped easily in this affair," said Seaton, as he mustered his light company, "only a file of men killed; it might have been otherwise, had we formed square less promptly. You have done well, my gallant green feathers; you will get an extra ration of grog for this morning's work!" The Highlanders responded by a cheer."The Germans have lost many; they lie pretty thick by the water-side.""Owing to their own want of alacrity in answering the bugle-call. Many of them have their heads cloven down, even through the thick shako.""This will teach the survivors to be smarter in future. But where is Lisle?""Stuart, by all that is sacred he has fallen into the hands of the enemy!""He was close beside me at the moment the bugle sounded to form square, and I have not seen him since.""I am afraid, sir, Mr. Lisle is either killed or taen awa' prisoner," said Serjeant Macrone, whose bare knee was streaming with blood, which he endeavoured to stanch by a piece of tartan rent from a plaid."I saw him stagger under the stroke of a sabre at the moment the dragoons broke frae the bushes amang us," observed another serjeant, advancing his pike."And has any man seen him since?" asked Stuart of the company breathlessly. Angus Mackie and several others replied that they had, but their statements differed so much, that it was impossible to come to any conclusion. One declared he had seen him killed "by a cloure on the croon, and that he never moved after it;" another stated that he slew the dragoon who wounded him, but all agreed that he had never gained the shelter of the rallying square. Evan Iverach declared, that "as sure as death he saw puir Maister Lisle grippit by the craigie, and dragged awa' by the officer of the cuirassiers." This last statement appeared the most probable, as no traces of poor Louis could be discovered on the ground save his sword and bonnet; and Stuart had a dim recollection of seeing a red uniform among the few prisoners whom De Mesmai's dragoons succeeded in carrying off amid the smoke and confusion.From Villa Corrijos Ronald next day wrote to Alice, giving an account of her brother's capture in the skirmish at Fuente Duenna; and while he deplored the event, he said not a word of his fears that he was desperately wounded. He had very little doubt that he must have been so, otherwise De Mesmai, strong and muscular as he was, would have found it no easy task to carry off Louis in the singular manner he did.Sir Rowland Hill, on discovering that King Joseph and Marshal Soult were manoeuvring to outflank him, prepared instantly to frustrate their intentions, and give them battle. Making forced marches by day and night at the head of the British, Spanish, and Portuguese troops he had collected together, he skilfully took up a strong position in front of Aranjuez, intending there to await the arrival of the enemy.The troops passed the Puento Largo at midnight. A detachment of miners were making preparations to blow it up, and their red lights, burning under the ancient arches and twinkling on the sluggish waters of the Jacama, presented a singular appearance as the regiments marched above them towards the hills, where the position was taken before day-break. But no battle ensued. A despatch arrived from the Marquess of Wellington, saying that he had been forced temporarily to abandon the siege of Burgos, and order an immediate retreat into winter-quarters in Leon and Estremadura,—a sad and most unlooked-for reverse of fortune to the army, who had driven the enemy before them into Valencia and the northern provinces. Marching through the wide and fertile plains, in the midst of which rises Madrid, the second division commenced its retreat in obedience to this order. Passing close by the walls or earthen defences of the Spanish capital, they bivouacked at the distance of a league from it. There was no time to pitch tents, and the troops lay on the ground without them, exposed to all the misery of a most tempestuous night of wind and rain. Next night they were more comfortably lodged in the village and spacious palace of the Escurial. Ronald's light company were quartered in the royal chapel, a building which contains the tombs of all the Spanish monarchs, from Charles the Fifth down to the present age. Crossing the Guadarama, or sandy river, at a village of the same name, the great mountain was ascended, through which lies the famous Guadarama Pass, and from which an extensive view of the surrounding country is obtained.The mountains were growing dark as the setting sun, enveloped in dun clouds, sank far behind them, and the effect of the scenery was considerably heightened by the march of so many thousand men,—cavalry, infantry, and artillery, up the winding pathway among the silent and solitary defiles, disappearing, section after section, with colours waving and arms glittering, down the deep pass of the Guadarama. Afar off on the plains of Madrid, leagues in their rear, clouds of dust rolling along the green landscape, marked where the pursuing squadrons and battalions of Soult followed the route of Sir Rowland with precision and rapidity.On the 8th November, to cover the retreat of the whole army, and to stay Soult's advance, the first brigade was ordered to defend, to the last extremity, the town of Alba de Tormes, near the eastern borders of the ancient kingdom of Leon; a forlorn sort of duty, when it is remembered that so small a band were to oppose the concentrated French army, 90,000 strong, I believe. On being reinforced by General Hamilton's Portuguese brigade, and two companies of Spaniards under the Condé de Truxillo, every means were taken to render the place as strong as possible by erecting trenches and barricading the streets,—almost useless precautions, as the town, which lies low, is commanded by two adjacent heights. Its appearance, when the brigade entered it, was indeed miserable and desolate, having been completely deserted by the inhabitants, into whose hearts the retreat of the British and the advance of the French had stricken terror.The soldiers had tasted nothing for thirty-six hours, and although drenched with rain, and wearied by a hard and forced march, had to remain under arms around the old and ruinous Moorish wall of Alba, during a very chill November night. About dawn, as no enemy had yet appeared, after guards had been posted, the troops were dismissed to take up their quarters in the dreary and empty houses, where every thing had been carried off or destroyed by the inhabitants before their flight. The drizzling rain which had fallen during the night had drenched them to the skin, but a dry article of clothing was not to be had, as the baggage was far away on the road to the rear. However, doors and shutters were torn down from the houses, and blazing fires kindled on the tiled floors, around which officers and soldiers crowded together without ceremony. Another day of starvation was before them,—untold gold could not have produced an ounce of flour in Alba. At night, by the great exertions of the commissary, some horse-beans were procured, and a handful given to every man; but early next morning some muleteers arrived from Corde Villar, bringing a few small bags of flour, which were received with wild demonstrations of thankfulness and joy by the starving brigade.Every man who could bake was set to work, and the ovens were speedily filled with tommies, as the poor fellows designated their loaves, and expectant crowds, with eager eyes and hollow cheeks, stood waiting around the bake-house doors.The hot and smoking bread was scarcely brought forth for equal distribution before the bugles sounded, and the distant reports of carbines announced that the enemy were coming on; and the picquet of the 9th light dragoons, posted in front of the town, had begun to retire before the heavy cavalry of Soult. "Stand to your arms!" was now the cry on all sides, and a scramble and uproar ensued among the soldiers at the ovens. The hot loaves were torn to pieces in handfuls and scattered about, and many who had fasted for eight-and-forty hours, (the repast of horse-beans excepted,) received nothing, while too much fell to the share of others.Ronald was unfortunately among the former, as it was impossible for an officer to struggle for a mouthful of food among the men, and until that day he never knew what it was to experience the utmost extremity of hunger. But there was no help for it then; and venting a hearty malediction on the Duke of Dalmatia, he joined the light company, which lined a part of the Moorish wall facing the direction in which the enemy were momently expected to appear. The trenches, barricades, and other hastily-erected works were manned, and two hundred of the Highland light infantry were placed in the ancient castle of Alba, a lofty round tower built by the Moors. The rest of the troops, not engaged in lining the walls, occupied those streets which would protect them from the view and fire of the enemy; and General Howard ordered a part of the regiment of sappers to undermine the bridge over the Tormes, which at Alba is both deep and rapid, to the end that it might be blown up, to cut off the pursuit of the enemy when the British were compelled to abandon the town. The light dragoons, retiring through Alba, halted on the other side of the river to await the event, and immediately afterwards Soult's advance came in sight.A company of infantry, the head of a column, appeared between the two hills which overlook Alba. They were beyond the range of musquetry, and halting there, they ordered arms and stood at ease. Shortly afterwards a staff-officer, wearing a glazed cocked-hat and green uniform, and mounted on a spotless white steed, descended at a trot towards the town, and with the most perfect coolness walked his horse slowly before the wall, which was lined by the 50th and Highlanders, riding within fifty yards of their musquets, a distance at which, had they fired, he must undoubtedly have been slain."A devilish cool fellow!" said Seaton. "He jogs easily along, looking every moment as if he expected a shot was coming to spoil his impertinent reconnoitring."A murmur and cries of "Tak him doon! tak him doon! Gie him his kail through the reek," arose among the Highlanders, who began to look to their flints and priming."Weel would I like to gie that chield's pride a fa'!" said Angus Mackie, cocking his musquet. "The blind hauf hunder' surely ha'na seen him. Dearsake, Captain Seaton! just say the word,—will I fire?""Why,—I know no objection," said Seaton, looking inquiringly towards Cameron, who was standing on foot near an angle of the trench, with old Dugald Mhor beside him holding his charger by the bridle. "Colonel, some of my fellows are anxious to fire; shall I permit them? I have some deadly shots in the light company. Monsieur's reconnoissance will end the instant Angus fires upon him.""Shame on you, Highlanders!" exclaimed Cameron, his eyes beginning to sparkle as usual when he was excited. "Would you fire on a solitary individual, who cannot return you a shot? He is a brave soldier although a rash one, and I will never permit such a deed to be done. Keep steady, men; you will have firing enough in a short time."The light company were abashed, and the life of the Frenchman was saved,—a piece of generous clemency which Cameron soon had reason to repent. The staff-officer, continuing at the same deliberate pace, ascended one of the heights, where he was joined by an orderly on foot, who by his directions was seen to place eleven stones, equi-distant, around the summit. Descending past the head of the infantry column in the valley, he ascended the other eminence, and there the same movements were performed; after which they disappeared to the rear.That French officer, who so narrowly escaped death, was MARSHAL SOULT,—the great Duke of Dalmatia himself, as one of his own despatches, which a few days afterwards fell into the hands of our troops, sufficiently testified.Scarcely had he withdrawn, before twenty-two pieces of artillery, each drawn by four horses, ascended the heights at full gallop, and took their ground at the several marks which Marshal Soult had laid. In an instant the gunners leaped from their seats; the guns were wheeled round, with their yawning muzzles pointed to Alba; the horses were untraced, the limbers cast off, and with the speed of thought the cannoniers, all stout fellows, wearing high grenadier caps, grey great-coats with large red epaulets, were seen hard at work with sponge and rammer, charging home the cannon. Their active figures were seen more distinctly by the yellow light shed across the sky by the morning sun, the rays of which shone merrily on the glistening Tormes, the brown autumnal woods, the mouldering walls and desolate streets of Alba, where soon the work of death was to begin."Well, colonel," said Seaton, "what think you of this gay preparation? We shall have sixteen-pounders and long nines flying like hailstones in a minute more. You will scarcely rejoice at allowing the white steed to carry off its rider with a whole skin."Cameron bit his lips, and his fiery eyes flashed; but he made no reply."Hech!" muttered an old Highlander; "it's a true sayin' at hame—Glum folk are no easy guided. Ta cornel's been makin' a fule o' hersel the day before the morn; hoomch!""Keep close under your walls and trenches, lads," cried Campbell, who was watching the heights through a telescope levelled across the saddle of his horse. "Keep close; but never duck down when a ball comes: as old Sir Ralph used to say, 'it looks d—ned unsoldierlike.' Here comes a shot."A flash, and a wreath of white smoke, announced the first cannon-ball, which, striking the wall of a house, brought a mass of masonry tumbling into the street. Whiz came a second, and a third, and a fourth,—all in quick succession. The French cannonade commenced then in good earnest, and continued incessantly from ten in the morning until five in the afternoon,—firing thirteen hundred round of shot and shell, and perhaps to so hot a discharge of cannon so small a body of troops, in such a defenceless place, were never subjected before. Without the least intermission it continued for seven hours, and even then the enemy only ceased to cool their guns, and await the completion of a plan formed by Soult for surrounding and completely cutting off the defenders of Alba. It was a miracle that every man in the place was not destroyed; but the enemy chiefly expended their shot on a large empty convent, which they supposed to be full of soldiers, and in consequence levelled it to the foundations.One sixteen-pounder came whizzing amongst the light company, and, striking the breast-work of loose earth, buried Seaton and a section of men under it; and a hearty laugh arose from the regiment, as they scrambled out of the trench, shaking off the soil and turf which had covered them up.Although shot were crashing, shells bursting, and houses falling incessantly for seven consecutive hours, only about fifty Highlanders were killed. The loss of the other corps I have never ascertained, but the streets were every where strewed with the dead. Many of the wounds were beyond conception frightful, being all by cannon-shot or bomb-splinters, tearing absolutely to pieces those they struck, and shearing off legs and arms like withered reeds. Macildhui, a Serjeant, was killed as Ronald was delivering some orders to him. His head was carried away like an egg-shell, and his brains were spattered over the pavement. Night was closing, and the enemy's guns were still in position on the heights, from which another iron dose was expected in the morning, when an aide-de-camp from Salamanca, covered from plume to spur with dust, dashed into the town at full gallop, and informed General Howard that 3,000 French cavalry had forded the Tormes some miles above Alba, that his position was turned, and that the Marquess of Wellington desired he would abandon the town without a moment's delay, otherwise the first brigade were lost men. The order was instantly given to decamp, and the place was quitted double-quick, the troops moving through those streets which concealed their movements from Soult, and forming in close columns on the other side of the Tormes to be in readiness for the cavalry, should they make their appearance. To deceive the French marshal, the sentries were kept on the walls until the last moment; and Stuart, with ten light-company men, was sent to "bring them off.""Farewell, senor!' cried Truxillo, waving his sabre to Ronald over the battlements of the ancient Moorish tower, which he had volunteered to defend to the last with his two companies of Castilians, to cover the retreat of Howard's and Hamilton's brigade."Adieu, gallant condé!" answered Ronald, as he passed beneath the walls with his party. It was the last time he ever beheld him. By the sound of his silver whistle he collected the Highland sentinels from all points. These, with Major-general Howard, Wemyss, the brigade-major, and Ronald himself, were the last men who quitted the ruins of Alba. The mounted officers rode at a trot, and the heavily laden infantry followed double-quick, with their musquets at the trail. The moment the bridge was cleared the sappers sprung the mine: a roar like that of thunder shook the current of the Tormes, and a cloud of dust and stones rose into the air. Ronald, who was severely bruised by the falling fragments, cast a glance behind as he hurried along. The bridge was a mass of ruins. The Spanish flag was waving from the round tower of Alba, which was now enveloped in smoke, and flashes of musquetry broke from it on all sides as the forlorn band of the condé opened a sharp fire from the rampart and loopholes upon a dense and dark column of French infantry, which was seen descending rapidly towards the town, with tri-colours flying, and brass drums beating in that peculiar manner by which the French regulate the quick step. After a desperate resistance, Truxillo and his Castilians were captured; but the sound of the firing was long heard by the brigade as it retreated in squares along the road for Ciudad Rodrigo, thus completely frustrating Soult's design to enclose and cut them off by his cavalry, who appeared in about half an hour, and met with so desperate a resistance that they were compelled to retire with immense loss.That night the brigade halted on the skirts of a cork wood, five leagues distant from Alba de Tormes. The half-leafless branches afforded but a poor protection from the rain, which continued to pour without cessation until day-break, when the weary march was recommenced.It was indeed a night of misery! Although worn out with fatigue and hunger, it was impossible to sleep on the wet ground, on which the rushing rain was descending in drops larger than peas; and almost equally impossible to stand, after what had been endured for some days past,—marching from dawn till sunset laden with seventy-five pounds weight, and fasting for six-and-thirty, or eight-and-forty consecutive hours. Cursing themselves and their fate, many of the soldiers were so disheartened at the retreat, and the miseries they had undergone since they left Aranjuez, that they were often heard aloud "wishing to Heaven their brains had been blown out in Alba!"Ronald, being sent on out-picquet, lost even the slight shelter afforded by the wood; but the soldiers had lighted prodigious fires, upon which even the power of the rain was lost; and seated by one, he passed a sleepless night, listening to the rain-drops sputtering in the flames, and to the hoarse croaking of frogs in a neighbouring marsh. During the night it was discovered that the wood was the lair of wild pigs, and a regular hunt ensued; by which means scores were shot during the glimpses of moonlight. As fast as they were killed they were quartered, and served out to the men, who crowded round the fires, broiling them on their bayonets and long steel ramrods. Major Campbell, who was a keen sportsman, and had been accustomed to shoot by moonlight at home, exerted himself so well, that with his own hand he shot five, and brought them to the bivouac, where he threw them among the soldiers. The out-picquets had been puzzled to comprehend the meaning of the firing within the wood, and Ronald was agreeably surprised by his servant bringing him a slice of wild pork, famously fried in a camp-kettle lid, and with it aberengena(a fruit of the cucumber genus) which he had found in the wood and reserved for his master, although almost perishing for want of nourishment himself. But the instances of Evan's fidelity are innumerable.The contents of the camp-kettle were shared between master and man, without ceremony, and without the absence of salt or other seasoning being perceived.For this affair of pig-shooting in the cork wood, the commander-in-chief took the opportunity to tell the army, in a general order, that they had degenerated into "a lawless banditti," and that, without having suffered the least privation, they were in a state of mutiny and disorder. This taunting and bitter address is still remembered with peculiar annoyance by the few survivors of that brave army.But, to return to the unhappy and unlooked-for retreat from Burgos, privations the troopsdidsuffer, (and I say so, in defiance of that general order,) and privations such as soldiers never endured before or since. Continuing their rapid retreat across the frontier, on the evening of the 19th of November, the first brigade entered the miserable village of Robledo, in Leon; and as the soldiers halted and formed line in the street, pale, exhausted, wayworn, famished, and absolutely in rags,—shirtless, shoeless, and penniless, they seemed more like an assemblage of gaunt spectres than British men. Ronald's shirt had not been changed for ten days, nor had his beard been shaven for the same period. His shoes were completely worn away, and his bare feet had been cut and wounded by the flinty ground, while his uniform hung in fritters about him. Every officer was in the same predicament.The military chest was empty, the stores exhausted. The cavalry and artillery horses perished in scores for want of forage; and during the whole retreat from Alba de Tormes to Robledo, the soldiers had fared on scanty rations of tough beef, horse-beans, acorns and castanos picked up by the way-side; or now and then, when the commissary could procure it, a few handfuls of wheat served out to each officer and private—unground. On reaching their winter-quarters thousands of soldiers died of sheer exhaustion, or were invalided and sent home, to become burdens to their friends, parishes, or themselves, for the remainder of their lives.
[*] The equal battle of the Fingalians,—a Highland proverb.
"Long life to you, major!" cried many of the Highlanders; and hundreds of soldiers belonging to the 66th, 34th, and other corps of the division huzzaed him loudly. On receiving from the duke'scontador(steward) the purse of thirtyonzas, Campbell, knowing that Dugald was too proud to touch a maravedi of the money placed it in the hands of Alozegui, telling him not to be cast down, as Dugald and himself had beaten better men than ever trod the realm of Spain. This taunt only stung more deeply the fiery and enraged Spaniard, who scorned to receive the purse, which he tossed among the people, and leaping over the barriers, disappeared. Campbell waved his hummel-bonnet (a plain cap without feathers) to the assembled multitude, and withdrew to finish the night over a pigskin with Don Ascasibur, and tell endless narratives about Egypt and Sir Ralph.
During that evening, from a thousand little circumstances which it is needless to rehearse, it was evident to Ronald that Louis Lisle was deeply enamoured of the beautiful Virginia; and that she was not unfavourable to him was also manifest, although she took every means to conceal it: but Ronald had a sharp eye for these matters. What the opinion of the proud old duke might be on such a subject it was not difficult to say; and his conscience would not in the least have prevented him from employing the poniard of some matador to rid his family of such a suitor. However, his mind was at that moment too much taken up with political schemes to permit him to observe the growing passion between his daughter and the young Scottish subaltern, to whom twenty days' residence in his palace had given every opportunity to press his suit that a lover could desire.
The party at the De T—— palace broke up about eleven o'clock, and ruminating on the probabilities of Louis's winning the donna, should he really propose for her hand, Ronald passed slowly through the marble square, and down a street leading towards his billet, which was near the Calle Mayor. A gush of light, streaming into the darkness through the open portal and traceried windows of an illuminated chapel, invited him to enter, in expectation of beholding some solemn religious ceremony; but the building was entirely empty, and the blaze of light proceeded from some hundreds of tapers burning around the gilded shrine of the patron saint of Aranjuez. From this spot a strong flood of crimson light glared through the nave and chancel, tinging with the hue of blood the black marble pavement, the slender pillars, and the groined roof of fretted stone work. Many mouldy portraits of saints adorned the walls; around the lighted shrine were hung certain strange memorials, placed there by the piety of those whom the saint was supposed to have cured. Crutches, even wooden legs and many stucco casts of deformed limbs, were there displayed, all doubtless the work of cunning priests, to impose upon the credulity of the Spaniards. But what chiefly raised his wonder, was some hundred little images of children, with which the place was absolutely crowded.
His attention was next attracted by several standards, the trophies of war, which hung from the highest part of the chapel, where the roof rose somewhat in the form of a dome. These belonged to various nations; and one, by the crescents on it, he judged to be Moorish; but the other two he remarked more particularly. The one was the ensign of a British ship of war which had been wrecked on the coast of Spain; the other was an ancient Scottish standard of white silk, crossed with St. Andrew's blue cross, and splendidly embroidered with silver thistles. About the latter he could not obtain the least information, although he made every inquiry next day. But it was probably the regimental colour of some of the Scottish auxiliaries who served in the Low Countries against the Emperor Charles the Fifth. Ronald was revolving in his own mind the means of capturing or destroying both these standards, when the entrance of the Condé de Truxillo diverted him from his purpose, and saved to the Spaniards those trophies which most likely still adorn the chapel royal of Aranjuez.
"What adventure are you in search of now, senor, that you have not yet sought your billet in the Calle Mayor?"
"I understand," replied the condé, "that the Carbineros of Medina del Campo marched into Aranjuez about sun-set. I have a very dear brother, an officer in them, and I am searching for some one to direct me to his quarters, late as the hour is. Manuel and I were very dear friends in youth, being educated together at our old castle near Truxillo; but we have not seen each other for six years, as our regiments have always campaigned in different provinces. He was a slender youth, without a hair on his lip when I saw him last, but now he must be a stout and well-whiskered cavalier. Ah, how much I long to behold him!"
"I regret, condé, that I can give you no information as to where the quarters of the Carbineros are. Some of the quarter-guards may perhaps inform you."
"Ho! senor Stuart," exclaimed Truxillo, as his eye fell on the shrine with all its little images and blazing tapers. "Lo, you now! behold what rogues our padres are. Do you know the meaning of all these images?"
"No. I own I was somewhat puzzled to discover."
"Well, senor," answered Truxillo with a loud laugh, "all these are the images of children born unto ladies who had long pined for them before they had visited this miraculous shrine,—so the monks tell us."
"Strange, if true."
"Its reputed sanctity is truly amazing; and all the dames of old and new Castile, Leon, and Arragon consider a visit to this place a sovereign remedy. They are shown the tomb of the saint in the vaults below; and its influence, aided by the attentions of a few stout padres, certainly has brought about singular cures; and—— But here comes my servant; he has been searching for the quarters of the Carbineros, and will—— Hah!" exclaimed Truxillo, his countenance changing as a servant belonging to the De T—— family entered the chapel, "do you seek me?"
The servant, who wore the orange-coloured livery of the duke, replied by whispering something into the ear of Don Balthazzar, whose "brow grew black as thunder."
"Falsificador!madman! what is this you have dared to tell me?" he exclaimed, furiously grasping the menial by the throat.
"The solemn truth, most noble condé. Release me! San Juan in the wilderness could not speak more truly. I am faithful to you,—I am, by the virgin!—Oh—" It is probable the fellow would never have spoken again, had not Ronald released his neck from the clutch of the condé.
"Cavalier!" exclaimed the latter, seizing Ronald's hand, "I know you to be brave and honourable as man can be. I have been basely betrayed this night. Will you follow me, that I may recover my lost honour, or perish? A deadly insult has been offered to me."
"I pledge you my word I will, Balthazzar. But what has this trembling blockhead told you?"
"Satanas! that Donna Olivia, to whom not an hour ago I plighted my love and troth, has even now a cavalier in her chamber."
"Impossible; he lies!"
"He does not—I know that he does not. I have bribed him to watch his mistress, and have long found him faithful. But Olivia, false and base Olivia! I have long suspected her falsehood and coquetry, and this night I will fearfully revenge them both upon herself. It must be Carlos Avallo. Malediction! I will slay him before her face. By our Lady of the Rock! my most sacred oath, I swear it!"
Balthazzar rushed away from the chapel, and Stuart followed to prevent him, if possible, from committing any outrage, and pursued him through the dark streets at his utmost speed. In a few seconds they stood before the mansion they had quitted but a short time ago. It was completely involved in darkness, save one room, from the windows of which a light straggled through the white curtains upon the balcony from which they had witnessed the bull-fight.
"The sisters sleep in separate apartments; that is Olivia's," whispered Truxillo, in a voice husky with the passions which possessed his heart. "Did you not see a tall shadow pass the window?"
"Let me entreat you, noble condé, to stay—to hold but for a single moment!"
"Carajo!may it be my last if I do!" replied the other fiercely, as he grasped a carved stone ornament projecting from the wall, and swung himself into the balcony, where he drew his sword, and applied his eye to the opening of the window curtains. Apprehensive that he might commit some rash deed, Ronald followed him, but with infinite trouble, rage having enabled the condé to climb by means which the other could not find. He was not without some secret fears that this rival cavalier might be Louis Lisle, and grasping Truxillo by the arm, he detained him by main force; and had the parties within been less occupied with themselves than they were, they must undoubtedly have heard the half-muttered threats of Balthazzar, and the scuffling which ensued on the balcony.
Through the half-opened casement they surveyed the chamber and its occupants. The sleeping-place of the donna was certainly a splendid one; the hangings, the chairs, the bed, and covering of the estrado, raised at one end of the floor, were all of white or rose-coloured velvet, fringed and embroidered with gold, and every thing else was of corresponding richness. A lamp, the globe of which was of rose-coloured glass, shed a warm light through the apartment; and three large vases of fresh flowers, placed on the verge of theestrado, gave forth an agreeable perfume. In a splendid easy-chair, which glittered with gilding and gilt nails, the beautiful Olivia was seated near her toilet-table,—the looseness of her dress and the disorder of her ringlets showing that she had been preparing for repose before her visitor had entered by the window, a place of ingress used oftener than the door by Spanish lovers. An officer in a Spanish cavalry uniform was kneeling at her feet, and his cloak and helmet lay on the floor near him.
"Lo! holy Virgin, a pretty piece of daring," said the lady as they approached the window.
"Pardon me, beautiful one!" said the officer; "and remember, that if I had not visited you thus, I might never have seen you at all."
"And what then, senor?"
"Cruel Olivia! can you trifle with a passion so earnest as mine?"
"A pretty fellow, to visit me like a bravo by the window, with a sword in your hand. This will teach me to bolt my shutters more securely. Come now, senor, I have heard quite enough of this: you must retire.O santos!should you be seen!"
"Heartless Olivia! and you bid me leave you thus?"
"Heartless? You are mighty gallant,mi amigo!"
"Remember that we march to-morrow, and I may never see you again."
"Well, I suppose I shall not want for a husband. The Condé of Truxillo, Pedro de Esquivias, or Carlos Avallo will, any of them, be glad to have me when I choose. O 'tis a gay thing to be loved by many cavaliers! But leave me, I intreat—no, command you!" said the lady, curling up her black tresses with her white slender fingers.
"Grant me but a single kiss, Olivia, and I will retire never to trouble you again. I will seek death in our first encounter with the enemy."
"You love yourself too well for that."
"Grant me but one salute, and I leave you. Oh, after all the misery of my long year's absence, do not refuse me that!"
"Take it, thou falsepicaro, and be gone," replied the coquettish girl, pouting her cherry mouth, towards which the cavalier advanced his well-moustached lip.
"Perish first!" exclaimed the enraged Truxillo, rushing forward and driving his sword through the back and breast of the unfortunate lover. "Die in your audacity, whoever you are, you false interloper! Die, villain!" he added, repeating the stab; and the cavalier died without a groan. "Farewell for ever, false Olivia," cried the savage condé; "and remember that my love, unworthy as you are of it, alone protects you from the effects of my fury and disappointment!" He was about to leave the place, when his eye fell upon the countenance of the cavalier he had so ruthlessly and rashly slain. He was now lying stark and dead, the blood from his wounds streaming over the oaken floor of the room. Truxillo groaned deeply, and striking his forehead, staggered back, dropping his sword, while his countenance became pale and livid.
"El Espiritu Santo santissimo! O Dios mio!" he cried in a husky voice, the tone of which was heart-piercing and horrible, "I have slain my brother,—my brave brother!O Manuel el Carbinero,—is it you I have murdered? Ten thousand maledictions blast you, false woman! blast you, and follow you to all eternity! 'Tis you have wrought me this deadly sin!" And rushing into the balcony he sprung into the street, leaving Ronald in the apartment of the lady, standing irresolute and stupified with amazement at the suddenness of this catastrophe, which came to pass in less time than I have taken to record it. Olivia, whose voice had at first failed her in the extremity of her terror, now shrieked long and loudly to arouse the household, which she did so effectually, that in three minutes they were all mustered in her chamber, armed with all sorts of weapons, and among others Lisle with his drawn sword. Great indeed was their astonishment to see Ronald in the sleeping-room of Donna Olivia at midnight, and an officer lying dead on the floor, weltering in a pool of blood. All clamorously demanded an explanation of this singular scene, and the indignation of the old duke it is impossible to describe, such room was there for scandal in the story of a cavalier being slain at night in the bed-room of his daughter.Diavolo!thought he, all Spain, from Cape Ortegal to Gibraltar, will be ringing with the tale! Some of the females attempted to recover the lady, who had sunk on her bed in a swoon; while the others required Ronald, in shrill tones of anger and surprise, to give a detail of the matter. This he hesitated to do, not wishing to criminate the condé, and still less wishing to be taken for the culprit himself.
In this dilemma the bustle and commotion were increased by the arrival of a pompous old alcalde, who dwelt opposite, and Senor Rubio, the notary, with six alguazils, who were for arresting Ronald on the instant; but, laying his hand on the hilt of his dirk, he vowed to run through the heart the first who laid a finger upon him; upon which the limbs of the law, recoiling, began to handle the locks of their heavytrabucos, and more blood would probably have been shed had not the alcalde interfered.
This magistrate, whose person and authority the duke had always treated with contempt, was very glad to have opportunity of affronting him; and assuming as much consequence as he could, he administered an oath to Ronald in the Spanish manner, by swearing him across his sword and dirk, and then desiring him to relate what he knew of this matter,—and word for word his relation was committed to writing by the keen-eyed and sharp-visaged little notary. Englishmen might have doubted the relation; but in Spain the words of an honourable cavalier are not to be questioned, and the account proving satisfactory to the alcalde, in so far as concerned Ronald Stuart, he was permitted to retire; while Senor Rubio, and the six men with blunderbusses, were sent off in pursuit of the condé, whom they discovered on his knees before the very shrine he had made the subject of his jests an hour before. Three days afterwards he was tried by a general court-martial, composed of Spanish officers,—the General de Costa being president. Every man supposed his death to be certain; but he was, strange to say, acquitted. Yet life was no boon to poor Truxillo, who, being continually haunted by the miserable death of his brother, became reckless of existence, and by throwing himself madly in the way of danger, endeavoured to perish in expiation of the crime he had committed in the blindness of his rage and jealousy.
This occurrence appeared for the present to be a death-blow to the hopes of Louis Lisle. On the following day the duke quitted Aranjuez with his family, retiring suddenly no one knew whither. He was so much enraged against Olivia, who indeed was not to blame, that he threatened to disgrace her for ever, by incarcerating her in theMonasterio de los Arrepentidas[*] of Seville, but the tears and entreaties of Donna Virginia made him change his intention: the sisters were separated, and for ever. Olivia was sent off to Galicia, and confined in a solitary convent among the wild ridges of the Sierra de Mondonedo, where, if living, she probably still resides.
[*] A place of confinement for ladies who misbehave.
CHAPTER III.
THE SKIRMISH OF FUENTE DUENNA. THE LEAGUEROF ALBA DE TORMES.
"Comrades, should it please high HeavenThat we see Castile once more,—Though we now go forth as outcasts,Sad, dishonoured, homeless, poor,—We'll return with glory laden,And the spoilings of the Moor."The Cid.
"Comrades, should it please high HeavenThat we see Castile once more,—Though we now go forth as outcasts,Sad, dishonoured, homeless, poor,—We'll return with glory laden,And the spoilings of the Moor."The Cid.
"Comrades, should it please high Heaven
That we see Castile once more,—
That we see Castile once more,—
Though we now go forth as outcasts,
Sad, dishonoured, homeless, poor,—
Sad, dishonoured, homeless, poor,—
We'll return with glory laden,
And the spoilings of the Moor."The Cid.
And the spoilings of the Moor."
The Cid.
The Cid.
About the middle of October the legions of Marshals Jourdan and Soult, having formed a junction, advanced, under the command of the latter, fifty thousand strong, from Valencia on Madrid, and in a short time arrived within a few leagues of Aranjuez. Combining his forces with those of Generals Elio and Freire, and with the Spaniards of Don Carlos de Espagna, Sir Rowland Hill, at the head of forty thousand well-tried soldiers, moved to meet them, commencing his march from Aranjuez on the 23rd of October. Many a sorrowful farewell was said that morning, and many a bright eye grew dim as the retiring sound of the British drums died away among the windings of the Tagus. Crossing the latter, immediately below the walls of the palace, the division marched to Colmenare de Orijo, a town of Toledo. Here different brigades were posted at the several fords of the Tagus, by which Soult's infantry might attempt to pass. That at Fuente Duenna fell to the lot of the first brigade. On the second day after their bivouacking there, a party of the enemy's cavalry were seen approaching the river, either to cross or reconnoitre. The light company of the Gordon Highlanders, and Captain Blacier's company of the German rifles, were ordered to receive them at the ford. Unluckily for himself, Lisle accompanied "the light bobs" on this occasion as a volunteer, in place of an officer who was sick. Seaton commanded the whole, and he placed the companies in ambush among some laurel-bushes, willows, and long reeds which grew by the water-side, overlooking the place where the dragoons must cross if such was their intention. The Highlanders knelt down on the right knee, but the Germans, who were posted among the reeds, lay flat on the ground, and levelled their short rifles over the glazed tops of their shakoes, which they placed before them. All were ready to let fly a volley among the unsuspecting Frenchmen, who came forward at a gallop with their carbines unslung. The party consisted of nearly eighty heavy dragoons. An officer of cuirassiers and two others in staff uniform accompanied them. They drew their bridles at the brink of the river, and from his place of concealment Stuart recognised his friend De Mesmai in the cuirassier; and in one of the staff officers Monsieur Law, the Baron de Clappourknuis, in the other their late host at Aranjuez, the Duke of Alba de T——.
"Stuart," whispered Lisle, "is it possible, that the officer without the epaulets is really the duke?"
"Without doubt 'tis he."
"How base and treacherous!"
"He will receive the reward of his treason instantly. It has always been whispered that he was false to King Ferdinand and his allies. A base wretch! to join the invaders of Spain when so many brave men are struggling with heart and hand to free her from the grasp of the Buonapartes. Evan, bring that officer down. Mark him when the word is given to fire."
"Were he as fause as Menteith, an ounce o' cauld leed will settle him," replied Evan, blowing some loose powder from his lock. "I'll tak' him canny, and wing him aucht inches below the oxter,—that's just in the belt."
"No, no, for God's sake!" whispered Louis to Stuart. "He is the father of Virginia de Alba, and were he as false as Judas that would save him."
"Hush!" whispered Seaton, in the same low tone; "they are conversing, and I should be glad to hear the news from Valencia."
"Monsieur le Ducwill perhaps be so good as to inform us whereabouts this infernal bridge of Fuente Duenna lies?" said De Mesmai.
"Ah!" chimed in the baron, in Spanish, "this is the place marked by the marshal in his map."
"The bridge lies lower down the river," replied the duke; "but there is a ford in this neighbourhood, which I will have the honour to show you, senores."
"Do so, in the devil's name!" replied De Mesmai hastily, while he surveyed the duke with an expression on his dark face which showed how much he despised such an auxiliary, notwithstanding his rank. "We have ridden quite far enough to see this ford, and when you have shown it to the baron, I will condescend to thank you."
"De Mesmai!" said the baron, holding up his hand warningly.
"Bah!Monsieur le Baron,—I comprehend; the British may look for a visit in the morning, which will yield them more danger than delight. With your permission, Monsieur Law, after reconnoitring this ford we will retire as soon as possible, because I little like riding here in such open ground. These bushes opposite might contain a thousand riflemen, or some of your bare-legged brethren, than whom I would rather face the devil. I have provided a white stake to drive into the ground, which will mark the ford for Lamorciere's chasseurs, who lead the way in our attack on Hill's troops to-night."
"Colonel Lamorciere shall be welcome," said Seaton, as De Mesmai moved his horse along the bank of the river, chanting gaily an old rondeau beginning with,—
"Pauvres Anglais!Vous n'avez que de l'arrogance,Pauvres Anglais" &c. &c.
"Pauvres Anglais!Vous n'avez que de l'arrogance,Pauvres Anglais" &c. &c.
"Pauvres Anglais!
"Pauvres Anglais!
Vous n'avez que de l'arrogance,
Pauvres Anglais" &c. &c.
Pauvres Anglais" &c. &c.
At that moment the Highland bugle-boy, who knelt by Beaton's side, sounded "fire!"
The bugle of the Germans answered on the left, and a deadly volley, which enveloped the whole place in smoke, was poured upon the French, nearly one half of whom fell from their saddles. Horses were seen galloping off in all directions, dragging their riders by the stirrup, or leaving them dead or dying on the ground. The traitor dashed his spurs into his horse's flanks and fled at full gallop, followed by the baron. But not so De Mesmai, whom this unexpected volley had filled with the utmost astonishment and ferocity, although it struck a temporary panic into the dragoons.
"Revenge!mes camarades. Follow me,—charge! By the name of the bomb! I will cleave to the gorget the first dastard who attempts to fly.Vive l'Empereur! Forward—charge!"
Animated by his example they crossed the ford at a gallop, dashing the water right and left; and forcing their horses up to the bank, even while exposed to a hot fire, they fell furiously with hoof and blade among the scattered Highlanders. It was a piece of unexampled daring for a few dragoons to cross a river thus, under a hot fire from concealed musquetry.
"Vive l'Empereur! No quarter to the Germans!" shouted De Mesmai, leaping his horse over the underwood.
"Form square!" cried the deep and manly voice of Seaton. "Rally—rally! Quick, Highlanders, or you will be cut to pieces! Close to the centre, Germans and all; blow 'the assembly,' bugler! Hurrah, my lads! Shoulder to shoulder, Highlandmen! and give them the bayonet." With the speed of thought a rallying square was formed. Blacier's Germans and the Highlanders mingled, the long cross-hilted daggers of the former acting efficiently as bayonets when fixed to the muzzles of their rifles. Ronald, while dressing, as it is technically termed, one of the faces of the square, narrowly escaped a cut aimed at him by a dragoon, who was instantly shot by Angus Mackie, a private next to him; and Seaton had the feathers of his bonnet sheered away by a stroke from De Mesmai's sword. But the cavalry seldom came within a pike's length of them; the stunted brushwood, the broken nature of the ground, and the prostrate men and horses encumbered their advance, while the steady fire of the little square disheartened and disconcerted them. After two brave attempts to break the band of infantry, De Mesmai was compelled to recross the ford, leaving sixty dragoons killed or wounded behind him. Notwithstanding the hasty nature of their retreat, the twenty who retired with him cut down and carried off several of the straggling riflemen, dragging them across their holster-flaps by main strength of arm. Some of these they were soon compelled to drop, when galled in retreat by the fire of the victorious light infantry, who again lined the bank, and kept blazing away so long as they were within range.
"Well done 60th!" exclaimed Seaton, as he mustered the companies together. "'Tis hard to say whether the green jackets or the tartan kilts have distinguished themselves most this morning. Lamorciere's chasseurs will have need of other guides than the dragoons, if they visit the ford to-night."
"Ech! Capitan Seetun, ve hab gibben demder teufels bradenfor breakfast,—ech, ech!" replied Blacier, cramming a quantity of tobacco into the bowl of a huge pipe, which he had pulled from the mouth of a Serjeant and transferred to his own. "Someting more betterer danwahr-sagenvill show dem de foord dis nicht,—de dragoons scarcely vill."
"No; I believe not, Blacier, my old boy! I shall recommend you to the notice of Sir Rowland in my account of this affair. You have long deserved the brevet."
"Der teufel hole dich! I tink so. Much obleege—much obleege to you."
The Germans had suffered a little in this skirmish, several having been sabred by the French; but only two Highlanders were killed, and these by carbine shots. Every where around the ground was strewed with helmets, holsters, sabres, carbines, and the bodies of men and of horses, rolling about in agony, or lying motionless and still in death. Sometimes a head, a boot and spur, or a gauntletted hand rose above the clear current of the Tagus, and then sunk for ever, as some wounded straggler was swept down by the stream. All the arms and accoutrements lying scattered about were, in conformity with the usual practice, dashed to pieces and completely destroyed by the victors.
"We have escaped easily in this affair," said Seaton, as he mustered his light company, "only a file of men killed; it might have been otherwise, had we formed square less promptly. You have done well, my gallant green feathers; you will get an extra ration of grog for this morning's work!" The Highlanders responded by a cheer.
"The Germans have lost many; they lie pretty thick by the water-side."
"Owing to their own want of alacrity in answering the bugle-call. Many of them have their heads cloven down, even through the thick shako."
"This will teach the survivors to be smarter in future. But where is Lisle?"
"Stuart, by all that is sacred he has fallen into the hands of the enemy!"
"He was close beside me at the moment the bugle sounded to form square, and I have not seen him since."
"I am afraid, sir, Mr. Lisle is either killed or taen awa' prisoner," said Serjeant Macrone, whose bare knee was streaming with blood, which he endeavoured to stanch by a piece of tartan rent from a plaid.
"I saw him stagger under the stroke of a sabre at the moment the dragoons broke frae the bushes amang us," observed another serjeant, advancing his pike.
"And has any man seen him since?" asked Stuart of the company breathlessly. Angus Mackie and several others replied that they had, but their statements differed so much, that it was impossible to come to any conclusion. One declared he had seen him killed "by a cloure on the croon, and that he never moved after it;" another stated that he slew the dragoon who wounded him, but all agreed that he had never gained the shelter of the rallying square. Evan Iverach declared, that "as sure as death he saw puir Maister Lisle grippit by the craigie, and dragged awa' by the officer of the cuirassiers." This last statement appeared the most probable, as no traces of poor Louis could be discovered on the ground save his sword and bonnet; and Stuart had a dim recollection of seeing a red uniform among the few prisoners whom De Mesmai's dragoons succeeded in carrying off amid the smoke and confusion.
From Villa Corrijos Ronald next day wrote to Alice, giving an account of her brother's capture in the skirmish at Fuente Duenna; and while he deplored the event, he said not a word of his fears that he was desperately wounded. He had very little doubt that he must have been so, otherwise De Mesmai, strong and muscular as he was, would have found it no easy task to carry off Louis in the singular manner he did.
Sir Rowland Hill, on discovering that King Joseph and Marshal Soult were manoeuvring to outflank him, prepared instantly to frustrate their intentions, and give them battle. Making forced marches by day and night at the head of the British, Spanish, and Portuguese troops he had collected together, he skilfully took up a strong position in front of Aranjuez, intending there to await the arrival of the enemy.
The troops passed the Puento Largo at midnight. A detachment of miners were making preparations to blow it up, and their red lights, burning under the ancient arches and twinkling on the sluggish waters of the Jacama, presented a singular appearance as the regiments marched above them towards the hills, where the position was taken before day-break. But no battle ensued. A despatch arrived from the Marquess of Wellington, saying that he had been forced temporarily to abandon the siege of Burgos, and order an immediate retreat into winter-quarters in Leon and Estremadura,—a sad and most unlooked-for reverse of fortune to the army, who had driven the enemy before them into Valencia and the northern provinces. Marching through the wide and fertile plains, in the midst of which rises Madrid, the second division commenced its retreat in obedience to this order. Passing close by the walls or earthen defences of the Spanish capital, they bivouacked at the distance of a league from it. There was no time to pitch tents, and the troops lay on the ground without them, exposed to all the misery of a most tempestuous night of wind and rain. Next night they were more comfortably lodged in the village and spacious palace of the Escurial. Ronald's light company were quartered in the royal chapel, a building which contains the tombs of all the Spanish monarchs, from Charles the Fifth down to the present age. Crossing the Guadarama, or sandy river, at a village of the same name, the great mountain was ascended, through which lies the famous Guadarama Pass, and from which an extensive view of the surrounding country is obtained.
The mountains were growing dark as the setting sun, enveloped in dun clouds, sank far behind them, and the effect of the scenery was considerably heightened by the march of so many thousand men,—cavalry, infantry, and artillery, up the winding pathway among the silent and solitary defiles, disappearing, section after section, with colours waving and arms glittering, down the deep pass of the Guadarama. Afar off on the plains of Madrid, leagues in their rear, clouds of dust rolling along the green landscape, marked where the pursuing squadrons and battalions of Soult followed the route of Sir Rowland with precision and rapidity.
On the 8th November, to cover the retreat of the whole army, and to stay Soult's advance, the first brigade was ordered to defend, to the last extremity, the town of Alba de Tormes, near the eastern borders of the ancient kingdom of Leon; a forlorn sort of duty, when it is remembered that so small a band were to oppose the concentrated French army, 90,000 strong, I believe. On being reinforced by General Hamilton's Portuguese brigade, and two companies of Spaniards under the Condé de Truxillo, every means were taken to render the place as strong as possible by erecting trenches and barricading the streets,—almost useless precautions, as the town, which lies low, is commanded by two adjacent heights. Its appearance, when the brigade entered it, was indeed miserable and desolate, having been completely deserted by the inhabitants, into whose hearts the retreat of the British and the advance of the French had stricken terror.
The soldiers had tasted nothing for thirty-six hours, and although drenched with rain, and wearied by a hard and forced march, had to remain under arms around the old and ruinous Moorish wall of Alba, during a very chill November night. About dawn, as no enemy had yet appeared, after guards had been posted, the troops were dismissed to take up their quarters in the dreary and empty houses, where every thing had been carried off or destroyed by the inhabitants before their flight. The drizzling rain which had fallen during the night had drenched them to the skin, but a dry article of clothing was not to be had, as the baggage was far away on the road to the rear. However, doors and shutters were torn down from the houses, and blazing fires kindled on the tiled floors, around which officers and soldiers crowded together without ceremony. Another day of starvation was before them,—untold gold could not have produced an ounce of flour in Alba. At night, by the great exertions of the commissary, some horse-beans were procured, and a handful given to every man; but early next morning some muleteers arrived from Corde Villar, bringing a few small bags of flour, which were received with wild demonstrations of thankfulness and joy by the starving brigade.
Every man who could bake was set to work, and the ovens were speedily filled with tommies, as the poor fellows designated their loaves, and expectant crowds, with eager eyes and hollow cheeks, stood waiting around the bake-house doors.
The hot and smoking bread was scarcely brought forth for equal distribution before the bugles sounded, and the distant reports of carbines announced that the enemy were coming on; and the picquet of the 9th light dragoons, posted in front of the town, had begun to retire before the heavy cavalry of Soult. "Stand to your arms!" was now the cry on all sides, and a scramble and uproar ensued among the soldiers at the ovens. The hot loaves were torn to pieces in handfuls and scattered about, and many who had fasted for eight-and-forty hours, (the repast of horse-beans excepted,) received nothing, while too much fell to the share of others.
Ronald was unfortunately among the former, as it was impossible for an officer to struggle for a mouthful of food among the men, and until that day he never knew what it was to experience the utmost extremity of hunger. But there was no help for it then; and venting a hearty malediction on the Duke of Dalmatia, he joined the light company, which lined a part of the Moorish wall facing the direction in which the enemy were momently expected to appear. The trenches, barricades, and other hastily-erected works were manned, and two hundred of the Highland light infantry were placed in the ancient castle of Alba, a lofty round tower built by the Moors. The rest of the troops, not engaged in lining the walls, occupied those streets which would protect them from the view and fire of the enemy; and General Howard ordered a part of the regiment of sappers to undermine the bridge over the Tormes, which at Alba is both deep and rapid, to the end that it might be blown up, to cut off the pursuit of the enemy when the British were compelled to abandon the town. The light dragoons, retiring through Alba, halted on the other side of the river to await the event, and immediately afterwards Soult's advance came in sight.
A company of infantry, the head of a column, appeared between the two hills which overlook Alba. They were beyond the range of musquetry, and halting there, they ordered arms and stood at ease. Shortly afterwards a staff-officer, wearing a glazed cocked-hat and green uniform, and mounted on a spotless white steed, descended at a trot towards the town, and with the most perfect coolness walked his horse slowly before the wall, which was lined by the 50th and Highlanders, riding within fifty yards of their musquets, a distance at which, had they fired, he must undoubtedly have been slain.
"A devilish cool fellow!" said Seaton. "He jogs easily along, looking every moment as if he expected a shot was coming to spoil his impertinent reconnoitring."
A murmur and cries of "Tak him doon! tak him doon! Gie him his kail through the reek," arose among the Highlanders, who began to look to their flints and priming.
"Weel would I like to gie that chield's pride a fa'!" said Angus Mackie, cocking his musquet. "The blind hauf hunder' surely ha'na seen him. Dearsake, Captain Seaton! just say the word,—will I fire?"
"Why,—I know no objection," said Seaton, looking inquiringly towards Cameron, who was standing on foot near an angle of the trench, with old Dugald Mhor beside him holding his charger by the bridle. "Colonel, some of my fellows are anxious to fire; shall I permit them? I have some deadly shots in the light company. Monsieur's reconnoissance will end the instant Angus fires upon him."
"Shame on you, Highlanders!" exclaimed Cameron, his eyes beginning to sparkle as usual when he was excited. "Would you fire on a solitary individual, who cannot return you a shot? He is a brave soldier although a rash one, and I will never permit such a deed to be done. Keep steady, men; you will have firing enough in a short time."
The light company were abashed, and the life of the Frenchman was saved,—a piece of generous clemency which Cameron soon had reason to repent. The staff-officer, continuing at the same deliberate pace, ascended one of the heights, where he was joined by an orderly on foot, who by his directions was seen to place eleven stones, equi-distant, around the summit. Descending past the head of the infantry column in the valley, he ascended the other eminence, and there the same movements were performed; after which they disappeared to the rear.
That French officer, who so narrowly escaped death, was MARSHAL SOULT,—the great Duke of Dalmatia himself, as one of his own despatches, which a few days afterwards fell into the hands of our troops, sufficiently testified.
Scarcely had he withdrawn, before twenty-two pieces of artillery, each drawn by four horses, ascended the heights at full gallop, and took their ground at the several marks which Marshal Soult had laid. In an instant the gunners leaped from their seats; the guns were wheeled round, with their yawning muzzles pointed to Alba; the horses were untraced, the limbers cast off, and with the speed of thought the cannoniers, all stout fellows, wearing high grenadier caps, grey great-coats with large red epaulets, were seen hard at work with sponge and rammer, charging home the cannon. Their active figures were seen more distinctly by the yellow light shed across the sky by the morning sun, the rays of which shone merrily on the glistening Tormes, the brown autumnal woods, the mouldering walls and desolate streets of Alba, where soon the work of death was to begin.
"Well, colonel," said Seaton, "what think you of this gay preparation? We shall have sixteen-pounders and long nines flying like hailstones in a minute more. You will scarcely rejoice at allowing the white steed to carry off its rider with a whole skin."
Cameron bit his lips, and his fiery eyes flashed; but he made no reply.
"Hech!" muttered an old Highlander; "it's a true sayin' at hame—Glum folk are no easy guided. Ta cornel's been makin' a fule o' hersel the day before the morn; hoomch!"
"Keep close under your walls and trenches, lads," cried Campbell, who was watching the heights through a telescope levelled across the saddle of his horse. "Keep close; but never duck down when a ball comes: as old Sir Ralph used to say, 'it looks d—ned unsoldierlike.' Here comes a shot."
A flash, and a wreath of white smoke, announced the first cannon-ball, which, striking the wall of a house, brought a mass of masonry tumbling into the street. Whiz came a second, and a third, and a fourth,—all in quick succession. The French cannonade commenced then in good earnest, and continued incessantly from ten in the morning until five in the afternoon,—firing thirteen hundred round of shot and shell, and perhaps to so hot a discharge of cannon so small a body of troops, in such a defenceless place, were never subjected before. Without the least intermission it continued for seven hours, and even then the enemy only ceased to cool their guns, and await the completion of a plan formed by Soult for surrounding and completely cutting off the defenders of Alba. It was a miracle that every man in the place was not destroyed; but the enemy chiefly expended their shot on a large empty convent, which they supposed to be full of soldiers, and in consequence levelled it to the foundations.
One sixteen-pounder came whizzing amongst the light company, and, striking the breast-work of loose earth, buried Seaton and a section of men under it; and a hearty laugh arose from the regiment, as they scrambled out of the trench, shaking off the soil and turf which had covered them up.
Although shot were crashing, shells bursting, and houses falling incessantly for seven consecutive hours, only about fifty Highlanders were killed. The loss of the other corps I have never ascertained, but the streets were every where strewed with the dead. Many of the wounds were beyond conception frightful, being all by cannon-shot or bomb-splinters, tearing absolutely to pieces those they struck, and shearing off legs and arms like withered reeds. Macildhui, a Serjeant, was killed as Ronald was delivering some orders to him. His head was carried away like an egg-shell, and his brains were spattered over the pavement. Night was closing, and the enemy's guns were still in position on the heights, from which another iron dose was expected in the morning, when an aide-de-camp from Salamanca, covered from plume to spur with dust, dashed into the town at full gallop, and informed General Howard that 3,000 French cavalry had forded the Tormes some miles above Alba, that his position was turned, and that the Marquess of Wellington desired he would abandon the town without a moment's delay, otherwise the first brigade were lost men. The order was instantly given to decamp, and the place was quitted double-quick, the troops moving through those streets which concealed their movements from Soult, and forming in close columns on the other side of the Tormes to be in readiness for the cavalry, should they make their appearance. To deceive the French marshal, the sentries were kept on the walls until the last moment; and Stuart, with ten light-company men, was sent to "bring them off."
"Farewell, senor!' cried Truxillo, waving his sabre to Ronald over the battlements of the ancient Moorish tower, which he had volunteered to defend to the last with his two companies of Castilians, to cover the retreat of Howard's and Hamilton's brigade.
"Adieu, gallant condé!" answered Ronald, as he passed beneath the walls with his party. It was the last time he ever beheld him. By the sound of his silver whistle he collected the Highland sentinels from all points. These, with Major-general Howard, Wemyss, the brigade-major, and Ronald himself, were the last men who quitted the ruins of Alba. The mounted officers rode at a trot, and the heavily laden infantry followed double-quick, with their musquets at the trail. The moment the bridge was cleared the sappers sprung the mine: a roar like that of thunder shook the current of the Tormes, and a cloud of dust and stones rose into the air. Ronald, who was severely bruised by the falling fragments, cast a glance behind as he hurried along. The bridge was a mass of ruins. The Spanish flag was waving from the round tower of Alba, which was now enveloped in smoke, and flashes of musquetry broke from it on all sides as the forlorn band of the condé opened a sharp fire from the rampart and loopholes upon a dense and dark column of French infantry, which was seen descending rapidly towards the town, with tri-colours flying, and brass drums beating in that peculiar manner by which the French regulate the quick step. After a desperate resistance, Truxillo and his Castilians were captured; but the sound of the firing was long heard by the brigade as it retreated in squares along the road for Ciudad Rodrigo, thus completely frustrating Soult's design to enclose and cut them off by his cavalry, who appeared in about half an hour, and met with so desperate a resistance that they were compelled to retire with immense loss.
That night the brigade halted on the skirts of a cork wood, five leagues distant from Alba de Tormes. The half-leafless branches afforded but a poor protection from the rain, which continued to pour without cessation until day-break, when the weary march was recommenced.
It was indeed a night of misery! Although worn out with fatigue and hunger, it was impossible to sleep on the wet ground, on which the rushing rain was descending in drops larger than peas; and almost equally impossible to stand, after what had been endured for some days past,—marching from dawn till sunset laden with seventy-five pounds weight, and fasting for six-and-thirty, or eight-and-forty consecutive hours. Cursing themselves and their fate, many of the soldiers were so disheartened at the retreat, and the miseries they had undergone since they left Aranjuez, that they were often heard aloud "wishing to Heaven their brains had been blown out in Alba!"
Ronald, being sent on out-picquet, lost even the slight shelter afforded by the wood; but the soldiers had lighted prodigious fires, upon which even the power of the rain was lost; and seated by one, he passed a sleepless night, listening to the rain-drops sputtering in the flames, and to the hoarse croaking of frogs in a neighbouring marsh. During the night it was discovered that the wood was the lair of wild pigs, and a regular hunt ensued; by which means scores were shot during the glimpses of moonlight. As fast as they were killed they were quartered, and served out to the men, who crowded round the fires, broiling them on their bayonets and long steel ramrods. Major Campbell, who was a keen sportsman, and had been accustomed to shoot by moonlight at home, exerted himself so well, that with his own hand he shot five, and brought them to the bivouac, where he threw them among the soldiers. The out-picquets had been puzzled to comprehend the meaning of the firing within the wood, and Ronald was agreeably surprised by his servant bringing him a slice of wild pork, famously fried in a camp-kettle lid, and with it aberengena(a fruit of the cucumber genus) which he had found in the wood and reserved for his master, although almost perishing for want of nourishment himself. But the instances of Evan's fidelity are innumerable.
The contents of the camp-kettle were shared between master and man, without ceremony, and without the absence of salt or other seasoning being perceived.
For this affair of pig-shooting in the cork wood, the commander-in-chief took the opportunity to tell the army, in a general order, that they had degenerated into "a lawless banditti," and that, without having suffered the least privation, they were in a state of mutiny and disorder. This taunting and bitter address is still remembered with peculiar annoyance by the few survivors of that brave army.
But, to return to the unhappy and unlooked-for retreat from Burgos, privations the troopsdidsuffer, (and I say so, in defiance of that general order,) and privations such as soldiers never endured before or since. Continuing their rapid retreat across the frontier, on the evening of the 19th of November, the first brigade entered the miserable village of Robledo, in Leon; and as the soldiers halted and formed line in the street, pale, exhausted, wayworn, famished, and absolutely in rags,—shirtless, shoeless, and penniless, they seemed more like an assemblage of gaunt spectres than British men. Ronald's shirt had not been changed for ten days, nor had his beard been shaven for the same period. His shoes were completely worn away, and his bare feet had been cut and wounded by the flinty ground, while his uniform hung in fritters about him. Every officer was in the same predicament.
The military chest was empty, the stores exhausted. The cavalry and artillery horses perished in scores for want of forage; and during the whole retreat from Alba de Tormes to Robledo, the soldiers had fared on scanty rations of tough beef, horse-beans, acorns and castanos picked up by the way-side; or now and then, when the commissary could procure it, a few handfuls of wheat served out to each officer and private—unground. On reaching their winter-quarters thousands of soldiers died of sheer exhaustion, or were invalided and sent home, to become burdens to their friends, parishes, or themselves, for the remainder of their lives.