THE BATTLE OF MONTONI.
The morning of the memorable 23d of January dawned, and the bells were
ringing in every tower, when three cannon gave the signal for the fight,
and the battle of Montoni began.
The light troops of the Constitutionalists opened a smart fire upon the
Austrians, and dislodged a strong corps from a position which it
occupied on the bank of a small stream. In consequence of this first
success, Richard was enabled to stretch out his right wing without
restraint; and, remembering the operation effected by the Cingani at
Abrantani, he instantly despatched that faithful corps, with a battalion
of rifles, to make the circuit of the village, and endeavour to turn the
Austrians' left flank.
The left wing of the Constitutionalists soon came to close quarters with
the right wing of the enemy; and a desperate struggle ensued to decide
the occupancy of the sand-banks, which were quite hard and a desirable
position for artillery-pieces. Colonel Cossario, who commanded in that
point, succeeded, after a desperate conflict, in repulsing the
Austrians; and twenty field-pieces were dragged on the sand-banks. These
speedily vomited forth the messengers of destruction; and the dread
ordnance scattered death with appalling rapidity.
The Grand Duke, seeing that his cause was hopeless if that dreadful
cannonade was not stopped, ordered four battalions of grenadiers to
attack the position. Markham, who was riding about the field,—now
issuing orders—now taking a part in the conflict,—observed the manœuvre,
and instantly placed himself at the head of two regiments of cuirassiers
with a view to render it abortive.
Then commenced one of the most deadly spectacles ever performed on the
theatre of the world. The Grand Duke sent a strong detachment of
Austrian Life-Guards to support the grenadiers; and the two squadrons of
cavalry came into fearful collision. The Constitutionalists were giving
way, when Markham precipitated himself into the thickest of the fight,
cleared every thing before him, and seized the Austrian colours. Morcar
was immediately by his side: the sword of a Life-Guard already gleamed
above our hero's head—another moment, and he would have been no more.
But the faithful gipsy warded off the blow, and with another stroke of
his heavy brand nearly severed the sword-arm of the Life-Guard. Richard
thanked him with a rapid but profoundly expressive glance, and,
retaining his hold on the Austrian banner, struck the ensign-bearer to
the ground.
This splendid achievement re-animated the Constitutional cuirassiers;
and the Austrian Life-Guards were shattered beyond redemption.
Almost at the same time, the Cingani and rifles effected their movement
on the left wing of the enemy, and threw it into confusion. This
disorder was however retrieved for about the space of two hours; when
the Marquis of Estella, with his cuirassiers, was enabled to take a part
in the conflict in that direction. This attack bore down the Austrians.
They formed themselves into a square; but vain were their attempts to
oppose the impetuosity with which the cuirassiers charged them. By three
o'clock in the afternoon, the left wing of the enemy was overwhelmed so
completely that all the endeavours of Marshal Herbertstein to rally his
troops were fruitless.
Then, resolved to perish rather than surrender, the Austrian commander
met an honourable death in the ranks of battle.
In the center the conflict raged with a fury which seemed to leave room
for doubt relative to the fortune of the day, notwithstanding the
important successes already obtained by the Constitutionalists.
The Grand Duke had flown with a choice body of cavalry to support the
compact masses that were now fighting for the victory: he himself rode
along the ranks—encouraging them—urging them on—promising rewards.
For nearly four hours more did the battle last in this point; but at
length our hero came up with his cuirassiers, all flushed with conquest
elsewhere; and his presence gave a decided turn to the struggle.
Rushing precipitately on—bearing down all before them—thundering along
with an irresistible impetuosity, the cuirassiers scattered confusion
and dismay in the ranks of their enemies. And ever foremost in that last
struggle, as in the first, the waving heron's plume which marked his
rank, and the death-dealing brand which he wielded with such fatal
effect, denoted the presence of Richard Markham.
He saw that the day was his own;—the Austrians were flying in all
directions;—confusion, disorder, and dismay prevailed throughout their
broken corps and shattered bands;—Marshal Herbertstein was numbered with
the slain;—the Grand Duke fled;—and at eight o'clock in the evening
Montoni was delivered.
Darkness had now fallen on the scene of carnage; but still the
Constitutionalists pursued the Austrian fugitives; and numbers were
taken ere they could reach the river. A comparatively small portion of
the vanquished succeeded in throwing themselves into the boats that were
moored on the southern bank, or in gaining the adjacent bridges; and
those only escaped.
Montoni saluted its deliverance with salvoes of artillery and the
ringing of bells; and the joyous sounds fell upon the ears of the Grand
Duke, as, heart-broken and distracted, he pursued his way, attended only
by a few faithful followers, towards the frontiers of that State from
which his rashness and despotism had driven him for ever.
Meantime, Richard Markham issued the necessary orders for the safeguard
of the prisoners and the care of the wounded; and, having attended to
those duties, he repaired to the village before mentioned, where he
established his temporary head-quarters at the _château_ of a nobleman
devoted to the Constitutional cause.
Then, in the solitude of the chamber to which he had retired, and with a
soul full of tenderness and hope, as in the morning in the grove of
Legino,—he addressed a letter to the Princess—the only joy of his heart,
the charming and well-beloved Isabella:—
_Head Quarters, near Montoni, Jan. 23._
Eleven at night.
"Long ere this will reach thee, dearest one, thou wilt have heard,
by means of telegraphic dispatch through France, of the great
victory which has made me master of Castelcicala. If there be any
merit due unto myself, in consummating this great aim, and
conducting this glorious cause to its final triumph, it was thine
image, beloved Isabella, which nerved my arm and which gave me
intelligence to make the combinations that have led to so decided an
end. In the thickest of the fight—in the midst of danger,—when balls
whistled by me like hail, and the messengers of death were
circulating in every direction,—thine eyes seemed to be guiding
stars of hope, and promise, and love. And now the first moment that
I can snatch from the time which so many circumstances compel me to
devote to your native land, is given to thee!
"To-morrow I shall write at great length to your honoured father,
whom in the morning it will be my pleasing duty to proclaim ALBERTO
I. GRAND DUKE OF CASTELCICALA.
"Although men now call me _Marquis of Estella_, to thee, dearest, I
am simply
"RICHARD."
Our hero despatched this letter in one to Signor Viviani at Pinalla, by
especial courier. He next wrote hasty accounts of the great victory
which he had gained, to the chief authorities of the various cities and
towns which had first declared in his favour, as before mentioned; and
these also were instantly sent off by messengers.
Then soon did rumour tell the glorious tale how Montoni was delivered;
and how the mighty flood of Austrian power, which had dashed its billows
against the walls of the ducal capital, was rolled back over the
confines of Castelcicala into the Roman States, never to return!
We shall not dwell upon the particulars of that night which succeeded
the battle. Our readers can imagine the duties that devolve upon a
commander after so brilliant and yet so sanguinary a day. Suffice it to
observe, that Richard visited the houses in the village to which the
wounded had been conveyed; while Colonel Cossario took possession of the
Austrian camp.
That night Montoni was brilliantly illuminated; and the most exuberant
joy prevailed throughout the capital.
The Committee of Government assembled in close deliberation, immediately
after the receipt of the welcome tidings of the victory; and, although
they consulted in secret, still the inhabitants could well divine the
subject of their debate—the best means of testifying their own and the
nation's gratitude towards that champion who had thus diffused joy into
so many hearts.
Early in the morning, the entire Committee, dressed in their robes, and
attended by the chief officers of the garrison, repaired on horseback to
the village where Richard had established his head-quarters.
Our hero came forth to meet them, at the door of the mansion where he
was lodged, and received those high functionaries with his plumed hat in
hand.
"My lord," exclaimed Signor Gaëtano, the President of the Committee, "it
is for us to bare our heads to you. You have saved us from an odious
tyranny—from oppression—from siege—from famine! God alone can adequately
reward you: Castelcicala cannot. We have, however, further favours to
solicit at your lordship's hand. Until that Prince, who is now our
rightful sovereign, can come amongst us, and occupy that throne which
your hands have prepared for him, you must be our chief—our Regent. My
lord, a hundred councillors, forming the Provisional Committee of
Government, debated this point last evening; and not a single voice was
raised in objection to that request which I, as their organ, have now
proffered to your lordship."
"No," answered Richard: "that cannot be. The world would say that I am
ambitious—that I am swayed by interested motives of aggrandizement.
Continue, gentlemen, to exercise supreme sway, until the arrival of your
sovereign."
"My lord," returned the President, "Castelcicala demands this favour at
your hands."
"Then, if Castelcicala command, I accept the trust with which you honour
me," exclaimed Markham; "but so soon as I shall have succeeded in
restoring peace and order, you will permit me, gentlemen, to repair to
England, to present the ducal diadem to your rightful liege. And one
word more," continued Markham; "your troops have conducted themselves,
throughout this short but brilliant campaign, in a manner which exceeds
all praise. To you I commend them—you must reward them."
"Your lordship is now the Regent of Castelcicala," answered the
President; "and your decrees become our laws. Order—and we obey."
"I shall not abuse the power which you place in my hands," rejoined
Markham.
The President then communicated to the Regent the pleasing fact that the
Lord High Admiral had that morning hoisted the tri-coloured flag and
sent an officer to signify his adhesion to the victorious cause. In
answer to a question from Signor Gaëtano, Richard signified his
intention of entering Montoni at three o'clock in the afternoon.
The principal authorities then returned to the capital.
Long before the appointed hour, the sovereign city wore an aspect of
rejoicing and happiness. Triumphal arches were erected in the streets
through which the conqueror would have to pass: the troops of the
garrison were mustered in the great square of the palace; and a guard of
honour was despatched to the southern gate. The windows were filled with
smiling faces: banners waved from the tops of the houses. The ships in
the harbour and roadstead were decked in their gayest colours; and boats
were constantly arriving from the fleet with provisions of all kinds for
the use of the inhabitants.
The great bell in the tower of Saint Theodosia at length proclaims the
hour of three.
And, now—hark! the artillery roars—Montoni salutes her Regent: the guard
of honour presents arms; the martial music plays a national air; and the
conqueror enters the capital. The men-of-war in the roadstead thunder
forth echoes to the cannon on the ramparts; and the yards are manned in
token of respect for the representative of the sovereign power.
What were Richard's feelings now? But little more than two months had
elapsed since he had first entered that city, a prisoner—vanquished—with
shattered hopes—and uncertain as to the fate that might be in store for
him. How changed were his circumstances! As a conqueror—a noble—and a
ruler did he now make his appearance in a capital where his name was
upon every tongue, and where his great deeds excited the enthusiasm, the
admiration, and the respect of every heart.
Then his ideas were reflected still farther back; and he thought of the
time when he was a prisoner, though innocent, in an English gaol. Far
more rapidly than we can record his meditations, did memory whirl him
through all past adversities—reproduce before his mental eyes his recent
wanderings in Castelcicala—and hurry him on to this glorious
consummation, when he finds himself entering the capital as the highest
peer in the State.
On his right hand was Colonel Cossario; and close behind him—amidst his
brilliant staff—was Morcar,—the faithful gipsy whose devotedness to his
master had not a little contributed to this grand result.
On went the procession amidst the enthusiastic applause of the myriads
collected to welcome the conquerors,—on through streets crowded to the
roof-tops with happy faces,—on to the ducal palace, in whose great
square ten thousand troops were assembled to receive the Regent.
Richard alighted from his horse at the gate of the princely abode, on
the threshold of which the municipal authorities were gathered to
receive him.
Oh! at that moment how deeply—how sincerely did he regret the loss of
General Grachia, Colonel Morosino, and the other patriots who had fallen
in the fatal conflict of Ossore!
Nor less did memory recall the prophetic words of that departed girl who
had loved him so devotedly, but so unhappily;—those words which
Mary-Anne, with sybilline inspiration, had uttered upon her
death-bed:—"_Brilliant destinies await you, Richard! All your enduring
patience, your resignation under the oppression of foul wrong, will meet
with a glorious reward. Yes—for I know all:—that angel Isabella has kept
no secret from me. She is a Princess, Richard; and by your union with
her, you yourself will become one of the greatest Princes in Europe! Her
father, too, shall succeed to his just rights; and then, Richard,
then—how small will be the distance between yourself and the
Castelcicalan throne!_"