The French army, spread over all the provinces of the Peninsula, was
surrounded by enemies; but could encounter none. The guerillas showed
themselves on every side, but they could not be come at any where.
Invisible foes, Proteus-like,--they ceaselessly dispersed or rallied at
the voice of their chiefs. Well-informed on all points, the enemy’s most
trivial movements were signalled to them, and prompt and faithful
reports reached them through the peasants. Was a weak garrison left in a
small village,--it was next day swept away by a guerilla! Was any
considerable force of troops led against these free-booters,--not a soul
was to be met. At the order of the chiefs the soldiers concealed their
arms, and dispersed, only to unite at a totally different point! Mark
well the Spanish guerilla, the _guerillero_ of the Peninsula, the
_kleft_ of the Greeks, and the bandit of Italy, such as are known to be
men of spirit, and think not that this insurgent is looked on with an
unfavorable eye in his own country; far otherwise, he renders too many
services, and performs his business with too much _conscience_, not to
be occasionally visited with notions of valor and glory. He
assassinates, martyrs, and mutilates; but thinks no offering more
acceptable to one of the old saints he invokes, or to his guardian
patron.
[Illustration: THE SKIRMISH.]