THE LEAVE.
After an hour’s sharp riding we reached the Aguada, where the river was yet
fordable; crossing this, we mounted the Sierra by a narrow and winding pass
which leads through the mountains towards Almeida. Here I turned once more
to cast a last and farewell look at the scene of our late encounter. It
was but a few hours that I had stood almost on the same spot, and yet how
altered was all around. The wide plain, then bustling with all the life and
animation of a large army, was now nearly deserted,--some dismounted guns,
some broken-up, dismantled batteries, around which a few sentinels seemed
to loiter rather than to keep guard; a strong detachment of infantry could
be seen wending their way towards the fortress, and a confused mass of
camp-followers, sutlers, and peasants following their steps for protection
against the pillagers and the still ruder assaults of their own Guerillas.
The fortress, too, was changed indeed. Those mighty walls before whose
steep sides the bravest fell back baffled and beaten, were now a mass of
ruin and decay; the muleteer could be seen driving his mule along through
the rugged ascent of that breach to win whose top the best blood of
Albion’s chivalry was shed; and the peasant child looked timidly from those
dark enclosures in the deep fosse below, where perished hundreds of our
best and bravest. The air was calm, clear, and unclouded; no smoke obscured
the transparent atmosphere; the cannon had ceased; and the voices that rang
so late in accents of triumphant victory were stilled in death. Everything,
indeed, had undergone a mighty change; but nothing brought the altered
fortunes of the scene so vividly to my mind as when I remembered that when
last I had seen those walls, the dark shako of the French grenadiers
peered above their battlements, and now the gay tartan of the Highlanders
fluttered above them, and the red flag of England waved boldly in the
breeze.
Up to that moment my sensations were those of unmixed pleasure. The thought
of my home, my friends, my country, the feeling that I was returning with
the bronze of the battle upon my cheek, and the voice of praise still
ringing in my heart,--these were proud thoughts, and my bosom heaved short
and quickly as I revolved them; but as I turned my gaze for the last time
towards the gallant army I was leaving, a pang of sorrow, of self-reproach,
shot through me, and I could not help feeling how far less worthily was
I acting in yielding to the impulse of my wishes, than had I remained to
share the fortunes of the campaign.
So powerfully did these sensations possess me, that I sat motionless for
some time, uncertain whether to proceed; forgetting that I was the bearer
of important information, I only remembered that by my own desire I was
there; my reason but half convinced me that the part I had adopted was
right and honorable, and more than once my resolution to proceed hung in
the balance. It was just at this critical moment of my doubts that Mike,
who had been hitherto behind, came up.
“Is it the upper road, sir?” said he, pointing to a steep and rugged path
which led by a zigzag ascent towards the crest of the mountain.
I nodded in reply, when he added:--
“Doesn’t this remind your honor of Sleibh More, above the Shannon, where we
used to be grouse shooting? And there’s the keeper’s house in the valley;
and that might be your uncle, the master himself, waving his hat to you.”
Had he known the state of my conflicting feelings at the moment, he could
not more readily have decided this doubt. I turned abruptly away, put
spurs to my horse, and dashed up the steep pass at a pace which evidently
surprised, and as evidently displeased, my follower.
How natural it is ever to experience a reaction of depression and lowness
after the first burst of unexpected joy! The moment of happiness is
scarce experienced ere come the doubts of its reality, the fears for its
continuance; the higher the state of pleasurable excitement, the more
painful and the more pressing the anxieties that await on it; the tension
of delighted feelings cannot last, and our overwrought faculties seek
repose in regrets. Happy he who can so temper his enjoyments as to view
them in their shadows as in their sunshine; he may not, it is true, behold
the landscape in the blaze of its noonday brightness, but he need not fear
the thunder-cloud nor the hurricane. The calm autumn of _his_ bliss, if it
dazzle not in its brilliancy, will not any more be shrouded in darkness and
in gloom.
My first burst of pleasure over, the thought of my uncle’s changed fortunes
pressed deeply on my heart, and a hundred plans suggested themselves in
turn to my mind to relieve his present embarrassments; but I knew how
impracticable they would all prove when opposed by his prejudices. To
sell the old home of his forefathers, to wander from the roof which had
sheltered his name for generations, he would never consent to; the law
might by force expel him, and drive him a wanderer and an exile, but of
his own free will the thing was hopeless. Considine, too, would encourage
rather than repress such feelings; his feudalism would lead him to any
lengths; and in defence of what he would esteem a right, he would as soon
shoot a sheriff as a snipe, and, old as he was, ask for no better amusement
than to arm the whole tenantry and give battle to the king’s troops on the
wide plain of Scariff. Amidst such conflicting thought, I travelled on
moodily and in silence, to the palpable astonishment of Mike, who could not
help regarding me as one from whom fortune met the most ungrateful returns.
At every new turn of the road he would endeavor to attract my attention by
the objects around,--no white-turreted château, no tapered spire in the
distance, escaped him; he kept up a constant ripple of half-muttered praise
and censure upon all he saw, and instituted unceasing comparisons between
the country and his own, in which, I am bound to say, Ireland rarely, if
ever, had to complain of his patriotism.
When we arrived at Almeida, I learned that the “Medea” sloop-of-war was
lying off Oporto, and expected to sail for England in a few days. The
opportunity was not to be neglected. The official despatches, I was aware,
would be sent through Lisbon, where the “Gorgon” frigate was in waiting to
convey them; but should I be fortunate enough to reach Oporto in time, I
had little doubt of arriving in England with the first intelligence of the
fall of Ciudad Rodrigo. Reducing my luggage, therefore, to the smallest
possible compass, and having provided myself with a juvenile guide for the
pass of La Reyna, I threw myself, without undressing, upon the bed, and
waited anxiously for the break of day to resume my journey.
As I ruminated over the prospect my return presented, I suddenly remembered
Frank Webber’s letter, which I had hastily thrust into a portfolio without
reading, so occupied was I by Considine’s epistle; with a little searching
I discovered it, and trimming my lamp, as I felt no inclination to sleep, I
proceeded to the examination of what seemed a more than usually voluminous
epistle. It contained four closely-written pages, accompanied by something
like a plan in an engineering sketch. My curiosity becoming further
stimulated by this, I sat down to peruse it. It began thus:--
Official Despatch of Lieutenant-General Francis Webber to Lord
Castlereagh, detailing the assault and capture of the old pump, in
Trinity College, Dublin, on the night of the second of December,
eighteen hundred and eleven, with returns of killed, wounded,
and missing, with other information from the seat of war.
HEADQUARTERS, No. 2, OLD SQUARE.
My Lord,--In compliance with the instructions contained in your
lordship’s despatch of the twenty-first ultimo, I concentrated the
force under my command, and assembling the generals of division,
made known my intentions in the following general order:--
A. G. O.
The following troops will this evening assemble at headquarters, and
having partaken of a sufficient dinner for the next two days, with
punch for four, will hold themselves in readiness to march in the
following order:--
Harry Nesbitt’s Brigade of Incorrigibles will form a blockading
force, in the line extending from the vice-provost’s house to the
library. The light division, under Mark Waller, will skirmish from
the gate towards the middle of the square, obstructing the march of
the Cuirassiers of the Guard, which, under the command of old Duncan
the porter, are expected to move in that direction. Two columns of
attack will be formed by the senior sophisters of the Old Guard, and
a forlorn hope of the “cautioned” men at the last four examinations
will form, under the orders of Timothy O’Rourke, beneath the shadow
of the dining-hall.
At the signal of the dean’s bell the stormers will move forward. A
cheer from the united corps will then announce the moment of attack.
The word for the night will be, “May the Devil admire me!”
The commander-of-the-forces desires that the different corps should
be as strong as possible, and expects that no man will rema
any pretence whatever, in the rear with the lush. During the main
assault, Cecil Cavendish will make a feint upon the provost’s
windows, to be converted into a real attack if the ladies scream.
GENERAL ORDER.
The commissary-general, Foley, will supply the following articles for
the use of the troops: Two hams; eight pair of chickens, the same to
be roasted; a devilled turkey; sixteen lobsters; eight hundred of
oysters, with a proportionate quantity of cold sherry and hot punch.
The army will get drunk by ten o’clock to-night.
Having made these dispositions, my lord, I proceeded to mislead
the enemy as to our intentions, in suffering my servant to be taken
with an intercepted despatch. This, being a prescription by Doctor
Colles, would convey to the dean’s mind the impression that I was
still upon the sick list. This being done, and four canisters of
Dartford gunpowder being procured on tick, our military chest being in
a most deplorable condition, I waited for the moment of attack.
A heavy rain, accompanied with a frightful hurricane, prevailed
during the entire day, rendering the march of the troops who came
from the neighborhood of Merrion Square and Fitzwilliam Street, a
service of considerable fatigue. The outlying pickets in College Green,
being induced probably by the inclemency of the season, were rather
tipsy on joining, and having engaged in a skirmish with old M’Calister,
tying his red uniform over his head, the moment of attack
was precipitated, and we moved to the trenches by half-past nine
o’clock.
Nothing could be more orderly, nothing more perfect, than the
march of the troops. As we approached the corner of the commons-hall,
a skirmish on the rear apprised us that our intentions had become
known; and I soon learned from my aide-de-camp, Bob Moore,
that the attack was made by a strong column of the enemy, under
the command of old Fitzgerald.
Perpendicular (as your lordship is aware he is styled by the army)
came on in a determined manner, and before many minutes had
elapsed had taken several prisoners, among others Tom Drummond,--Long
Tom,--who, having fallen on all fours, was mistaken for a
long eighteen. The success, however, was but momentary; Nesbitt’s
Brigade attacked them in flank, rescued the prisoners, extinguished
the dean’s lantern, and having beaten back the heavy porters, took
Perpendicular himself prisoner.
An express from the left informed me that the attack upon the
provost’s house had proved equally successful; there wasn’t a whole
pane of glass in the front, and from a footman who deserted, it was
learned that Mrs. Hutchinson was in hysterics.
While I was reading this despatch, a strong feeling of the line
towards the right announced that something was taking place in that
direction. Bob Moore, who rode by on Drummond’s back, hurriedly
informed me that Williams had put the lighted end of his cigar to
one of the fuses, but the powder, being wet, did not explode
notwithstanding his efforts to effect it. Upon this, I hastened to the
front, where I found the individual in question kneeling upon the
ground, and endeavoring, as far as punch would permit him, to kindle a
flame at the portfire. Before I could interfere, the spark had caught;
a loud, hissing noise followed; the different magazines successively
became ignited, and at length the fire reached the great four-pound
charge.
I cannot convey to your lordship, by any words of mine, an idea of
this terrible explosion; the blazing splinters were hurled into the
air, and fell in fiery masses on every side from the park to King
William; Ivey the bell-ringer, was precipitated from the scaffold
beside the bell, and fell headlong into the mud beneath; the
surrounding buildings trembled at the shock; the windows were
shattered, and in fact a scene of perfect devastation ensued on all
sides.
When the smoke cleared away, I rose from my recumbent position,
and perceived with delight that not a vestige of the pump remained.
The old iron handle was imbedded in the wall of the dining-hall, and
its round knob stood out like the end of a queue.
Our loss was, of course, considerable; and ordering the wounded
to the rear, I proceeded to make an orderly and regular retreat. At
this time, however, the enemy had assembled in force. Two battalions
of porters, led on by Dr. Dobbin, charged us on the flank; a
heavy brigade poured down upon us from the battery, and but for
the exertions of Harry Nesbitt, our communication with our reserves
must have been cut off. Cecil Cavendish also came up; for although
beaten in his great attack, the forces under his command had penetrated
by the kitchen windows, and carried oil a considerable quantity
of cold meat.
Concentrating the different corps, I made an echelon movement
upon the chapel, to admit of the light division coming up. This they
did in a few moments, informing me that they had left Perpendicular
in the haha, which, as your lordship is aware, is a fosse of the
very greenest and most stagnant nature. We now made good our retreat
upon number “2,” carrying our wounded with us. The plunder
we also secured; but we kicked the prisoners, and suffered them to
escape.
Thus terminated, my lord, one of the brightest achievements of the
undergraduate career. I enclose a list of the wounded, as also an
account of the various articles returned in the commissary-general’s
list.
Harry Nesbitt: severely wounded; no coat nor hat; a black-eye;
left shoe missing.
Cecil Cavendish: face severely scratched; supposed to have received
his wound in the attack upon the kitchen.
Tom Drummond: not recognizable by his friends; his features
resembling a transparency disfigured by the smoke of the preceding
night’s illumination.
Bob Moore: slightly wounded.
I would beg particularly to recommend all these officers to your
lordship’s notice; indeed, the conduct of Moore, in kicking the dean’s
lantern out of the porter’s hand, was marked by great promptitude
and decision. This officer will present to H. R. H. the following
trophies, taken from the enemy: The dean’s cap and tassel; the key
of his chambers; Dr. Dobbin’s wig and bands; four porters’ helmets,
and a book on the cellar.
I have the honor to remain, my lord, etc.,
FRANCIS WEBBER.
G. O.
The commander-of-the-forces returns his thanks to the various
officers and soldiers employed in the late assault, for their
persevering gallantry and courage. The splendor of the achievement
can only be equalled by the humanity and good conduct of the troops.
It only remains for him to add, that the less they say about the
transaction, and the sooner they are severally confined to their beds
with symptoms of contagious fever, the better.
Meanwhile, to concert upon the future measures of the campaign, the
army will sup to-night at Morrison’s.
Here ended this precious epistle, rendering one fact sufficiently
evident,--that, however my worthy friend advanced in years, he had not
grown in wisdom.
While ruminating upon the strange infatuation which could persuade a gifted
and an able man to lavish upon dissipation and reckless absurdity the
talents that must, if well directed, raise him to eminence and distinction,
a few lines of a newspaper paragraph fell from the paper I was reading. It
ran thus:--
LATE OUTRAGE IN TRINITY COLLEGE, DUBLIN.
We have great pleasure in stating that the serious disturbance which
took place within the walls of our University a few evenings since,
was in no wise attributable to the conduct of the students. A party
of ill-disposed townspeople were, it would appear, the instigators
and perpetrators of the outrage. That their object was the total
destruction of our venerated University there can be but little
doubt. Fortunately, however, they did not calculate upon the _esprit
de corps_ of the students, a body of whom, under the direction of Mr.
Webber, successfully opposed the assailants, and finally drove them
from the walls.
It is, we understand, the intention of the board to confer some mark
of approbation upon Mr. Webber, who, independently of this, has
strong claims upon their notice, his collegiate success pointing him
out as the most extraordinary man of his day.
This, my dear Charley, will give you some faint conception of one
of the most brilliant exploits of modern days. The bulletin, believe
me, is not Napoleonized into any bombastic extravagance of success.
The tiling was splendid; from the brilliant firework of the old pump
itself, to the figure of Perpendicular dripping with duckweed, like
an insane river-god, it was unequalled. Our fellows behaved like
trumps; and to do them justice, so did the enemy. But unfortunately,
notwithstanding this, and the plausible paragraphs of the
morning papers, I have been summoned before the board for Tuesday
next.
Meanwhile I employ myself in throwing off a shower of small
squibs for the journals, so that if the board deal not mercifully with
me, I may meet with sympathy from the public. I have just despatched
a little editorial bit for the “Times,” calling, in terms of
parental tenderness, upon the University to say--
“How long will the extraordinary excesses of a learned funct
be suffered to disgrace college? Is Doctor ---- to be permitted to
exhibit an example of more riotous insubordination than would be
endured in an undergraduate? More on this subject hereafter.”
“‘Saunders’ News-letter.’--Dr. Barret appeared at the head
police-office, before Alderman Darley, to make oath that neither he
nor Catty were concerned in the late outrage upon the pump.” etc.,
etc.
Paragraphs like these are flying about in every provincial paper of
the empire. People shake their heads when they speak of the University,
and respectable females rather cross over by King William and
the Bank than pass near its precincts.
Tuesday Evening.
Would you believe it, they’ve expelled me! Address your next
letter as usual, for they haven’t got rid of me yet.
Yours, F. W.
“So I shall find him in his old quarters,” thought I, “and evidently not
much altered since we parted.” It was not without a feeling of (I trust
pardonable) pride that I thought over my own career in the interval. My
three years of campaigning life had given me some insight into the world,
and some knowledge of myself, and conferred upon me a boon, of which I know
not the equal,--that, while yet young, and upon the very threshold of life,
I should have tasted the enthusiastic pleasures of a soldier’s fortune, and
braved the dangers and difficulties of a campaign at a time when, under
other auspices, I might have wasted my years in unprofitable idleness or
careless dissipation.