raised the siege of Cadiz and retreated towards Cordova, leaving his
cannon and ammunition in the hands of the British. He drew off all his
troops from Estremadura, in consequence of which the presence of the
second division was no longer requisite in that province: hence the
unexpected route for Aranjuez. Gladly they bade farewell to Don Benito,
turning their faces towards Castile--the famous and romantic
Castile,--of old the land of the warrior and troubadour, of love and
chivalry, "of battle and of song."
At Truxillo Ronald had the pleasure of again seeing his friend the
Capitan Conquesta, who presented him to his newly-wedded bride, Donna
Maria, with whose history the reader is already acquainted. Ronald
spent a very pleasant evening with the cavalier, who, for his
edification, fought over again the campaigns of Buenos Ayres, enriched
with many episodes, in which he himself, and "that stout and honourable
cavalier the General Liniers," acted prominent parts.
At Truxillo Stuart was appointed one of the lieutenants of the light
company, an alteration which he considered no small compliment, as the
smartest fellows alone are selected for the flank companies. On
marching past the convent walls of Jarciejo, they were greeted by many a
_viva_ from the nuns, who waved their white kerchiefs from the grated
loop-holes to the troops, who replied to them by loud cheers, each corps
making the old walls shake as they came up in succession. Ronald's heart
was, perhaps, the saddest there among thirty thousand men. It was
impossible to be otherwise than sorrowful, when so near the tomb of the
high-souled and noble Catalina. The same evening they crossed the Tagus
at Almarez, by a pontoon bridge. It was with mingled feelings of pride
and veneration that the three regiments of the first brigade passed the
spot, where so many brave comrades had found a soldier's last
resting-place. The ruined forts were now overhung with wild weeds and
grass; the wall-flower, the honeysuckle, and ivy clung to the embrasures
of fort Napoleon, and nodded on the remnant of the old tower of Ragusa.
In some places a fleshless bone projecting from the sod bore witness of
the hasty interment received by the dead. On descending from the pass
of Miravete they came in sight of Almarez, its rocks, and woods, and
winding river, just as the broad setting sun went down in all its glory.
A loud and exulting cheer burst from the bonneted Highlanders, and was
carried along the column to the rear, reverberated a thousand times
among the splintered peaks and frowning craigs of the Lina. The bands
of the 50th, the 71st, and 92nd regiments struck up the "British
Grenadiers;" and thus they passed in their glitter and pride, with drums
beating and colours flying, above the sod that covered the breast of
many a gallant comrade. It was a proud time for the first brigade; and
while their hearts throbbed quicker to the "spirit-stirring" roll of the
drum, or swell of the merry bugle, they forgot not that they trod near
the tomb of those who heard their notes no more.
Two days afterwards the troops occupied the town of Calzada de Orepesa,
in the midst of which stood an old baronial fortalice, or square
embattled tower, which was garrisoned by a party of Don Salvador de
Zagala's guerilla corps. Soon after seeing his light company dismissed
to their several billets, Ronald, on passing this keep, was surprised to
hear his name eagerly and distinctly called by some one within it; and
on looking up at its huge gloomy front, beheld a hand beckoning to him
through a narrow loop-hole, which was cut at the top and bottom for the
ejection of arrows in the olden time. Who could be thus imprisoned
here, and acquainted with his name, he was utterly at a loss to
conjecture; but he turned to the guard of guerillas, who lay reposing on
the earth in a cool shady place, under the masses of wild vines which
straggled over the barbican wall, smoking cigars and burnishing their
arms, which, as well as their dress, were of so motley a kind as to
remind Ronald of his old acquaintances in the wood of La Nava. All wore
the red military cockade of Spain fastened to the front of their broad
hats or slouching caps.
On inquiring who was imprisoned in the tower, they replied a ladrone or
thief, and brought to him a guerilla, whom they dignified with the title
of _Senor el Castellano_, _i.e._ the constable or governor of the
castle, a huge-headed, broad-shouldered, brawny, and muscular fellow,
who had evidently been a muleteer, but had resigned the whip and bells
for the musket and poniard. He wore a pair of French epaulets on his
mule-driver's jacket; a sash encircled his waist, bearing a powder-horn,
and several pistols and daggers; the large plume of some staff-officer
decorated his sombrero, and his followers were most of them arrayed
likewise in the trappings of the slain. The castellano received Ronald
with much respect, and led him through the windings and intricacies of
the ancient tower, which, with its round wheel-stairs, arched passages,
and narrow loopholes, reminded him of the old pile at Lochisla. From
the number of doors which were unlocked by huge clanking keys in their
progress, Stuart was led to expect something extraordinary, but on
reaching a solitary turret chamber, when the door was thrown open what
was his surprise to behold Captain de Mesmai, whom he supposed to be in
the castle of Albuquerque. He was miserably altered, and Ronald, while
he beheld him, became filled with pity and indignation--pity for his
situation, and indignation at the ungenerous Spaniards. His blue
uniform had been stripped of its lace, epaulets, stars, and medals, and
hung about him in tatters, showing his skin in many places. A guerilla
on sentry at the door had appropriated the helmet and corslet of the
10th to himself. De Mesmai had been plundered of his boots, and his
feet were in a miserable state in consequence of the long marches the
guerillas had compelled him to make. He was thin and gaunt, and a beard
of a week's growth bristled upon his chin; but there was the same merry
devil-may-care twinkle in his eye, which showed that his bold and
buoyant heart was yet unchanged.
"_Vive la bagatelle--Hoa! Vive la joie!_" cried he, springing forward
and clasping Ronald in his arms with true French energy, "My dear
friend, you may judge how glad I am to see you. I shall now be rescued
from the brutality of these base and accursed Spanish dogs." As this
was said in Spanish, lightning gleamed in the eyes of Castellano, who
stood by. He grasped the hilt of his poniard, but relinquished it as
Ronald's fiery and threatening glance fell on him. Yet he scowled
malignantly at De Mesmai as he withdrew his hand.
"Ah, Stuart, _mon ami!_ of what I have suffered at the hands of these
guerillas you can form no idea. I have been plundered as you see: I
have been beaten, kicked, even spat upon. _Mon Dieu!_ such treatment
for a gentleman and soldier of France! I have been locked up in this
desolate stone chamber for four nights and days, during which not one
morsel of food has passed my lips."
"Rascal! do you dare to treat an honourable prisoner of war, thus?"
exclaimed Ronald, turning to the Spaniard, who bestowed a sullen look
upon him, but made no reply.
"I fully expected that before this," continued De Mesmai, "D'Erlon would
have made some effort to effect my exchange. The devil confound him! I
will revenge myself on him for his forgetfulness, by being doubly sweet
to madame, his dear little countess, whose fortunate _cher ami_ I have
the honour to be. _Diable!_ what would the 10th cuirassiers,--the pets
of the Parisian ladies,--the dandies and glory of the Bouvelards, say,
could they see me in this plight? Faith, I believe a dozen girls in the
Rue des Trois Maries would run crazy, could they know of it.
_Diablement!_ shirtless and shoeless,--and with a coat as holy as that
of Monseigneur St. Denis, which hangs in the aisle of the old church of
Besancon. Look at me, Monsieur Stuart; your allies, the guerillas, have
done all this. But I will revenge myself on D'Erlon, and garnish his
empty old head with certain ornaments which shall be nameless,--I will,
by the name of the bomb!"
"I am glad to find that your high spirits have not deserted you, and
that you are as merry a fellow as ever. Can it be, that those wretches
have really starved you thus?"
"For four days, my friend," said De Mesmai; "four days and four nights,
on my sacred honour! my most earnest entreaties for bread were
disregarded. When I used humbly to request, _Pan, gracios Senor
Castellano,--pan en el nombre de Dios_? This scowling coward used to
point to the village ruined by Massena's troops, and reply,--_Carajo!
Perro e ladrone! El Espanol no hay nada. A quien Dios de mala
ventura_! 'Dog and thief! the Spaniard has none. Ill luck to you!'
This was my hourly answer. _Tete-Dieu!_ how my blood has boiled up
within me, and I have longed to thrust my hand into his ungenerous
heart. _Sacre!_ with two of my gallant 10th at my back, and were I
again astride of my fleet Norman, I could soon make these rascals fly
like hares before the hound. But may this right hand and arm be
withered and shrunken unto the shoulder, if ever again it spares the
life of a Spaniard when my sword has once laid the dog at my mercy. I
will revenge in red blood the countless--the never-to-be-forgotten
indignities I have received from these infernal guerillas. They have
been taunting me for these few days past with a defeat which, they say,
Marmont has met with at Salamanca. Bah! Lord Wellington could never
beat Marmont, and I know the rogues have lied."
Ronald smiled, but made no effort to undeceive him. "Take my arm, De
Mesmai, and permit me to lead you from this place," said he,
apprehensive that blows would soon be exchanged between the Gaul and
Spaniard, who glared at each other with unspeakable hatred and ferocity.
"_Vive la joie!_ how I rejoiced when I beheld the scarlet columns of the
British descending by the Navil Moral road on Calzada de Orepesa! I
knew that my hour of deliverance was at hand."
"Come, then; march, monsieur. Let us leave this dismal tower! Stand
aside, worthy Senor Castellano."
"_Satanos, Senor Officiale!_ it cannot be that you mean to release our
prisoner?" asked the guerilla, grasping his poniard again.
"Unhand your dagger, you rascally guerilla! or I will seize you by the
throat, and hurl you to the bottom of your tower," cried Ronald, laying
his hand on his sword.
"_Il a la mine guerrier_," said De Mesmai sneeringly, in his native
language, and laughing at the guerilla, who still hesitated; while
others came crowding into the apartment, and began to handle the locks
of their musquets. "Would to St. Belzebub I had a weapon to strike in
with you! We would cut our way through these base plebeians, as through
so many children."
"Look you, senores," said Ronald; "'tis madness of you to obstruct me.
Our soldiers are thronging all about the village, and by a single blast
on this, I will summon a hundred men in a moment." As he spoke, he
disengaged from his belt the silver whistle which, as a light infantry
officer, was now part of his appointments. By this movement the folds
of his plaid were raised, and the golden cross of St. James glittered
before the eyes of the Spaniards, whose favour was instantly won by the
sight of the well-known Spanish badge of military achievement. They
fell back right and left, and the passage was free. De Mesmai, vowing
vengeance against them, departed with his deliverer, who soon got him
attired in other clothing, which, though somewhat motley, was preferable
to the rags he had lately worn.
Adjourning to a _taberna_, kept by an old Jewess, they partook of an
_olla podrida_,--a mess composed of fragments of fowl, flesh, and
various ingredients stewed together; an excellent dish, when well spiced
and seasoned, and one that is considered very substantial and nourishing
by the Spaniards. For this, and a stoup of very sour wine, the
conscientious _patrona_ charged Ronald two duros.
After this they parted. Ronald had to take command of the escort of the
regimental baggage, and De Mesmai was sent to the rear-guard, with whom
some other prisoners of war marched. The unfortunate cuirassier, with
true French volubility, gave Stuart a profusion of thanks for his
kindness, and departed, swearing by the bomb that he would make his
escape on the first opportunity which offered. This threat he executed
two days afterwards, near Talavera de la Reina, when the division was on
its march; and, aided by some Spaniards in the French interest, he
gained Andalusia in safety, and rejoined Marshal Soult's army at
Cordova.
After passing through a variety of towns and villages, the troops of Sir
Rowland Hill, on the 29th of September, beheld before them the famous
and venerable city of Toledo--of old the populous and wealthy capital of
Spain, once so celebrated for its magnificence and glory, of which,
alas! so little now remains. The appearance of the dark city, illumined
by the glow of the setting sun, which bathed in purple every thing that
its rays fell upon, formed a new and agreeable object to the brigades,
as they emerged in succession from the rich groves and cool
vine-trellises that, bending under purple grapes, had for miles and
miles overshadowed their line of march, and echoed to the music of the
thirty regimental bands. A cheer arose from the advanced-guard when
they came in sight of Toledo. Situated amidst the most delightful and
romantic scenery, it crowns the summit of a rocky eminence, around which
runs its girdle of walls and battlemented towers, circled on three sides
by the Tagus, which, reflecting the hue of the sky, was now wandering
like a river of blood among gloomy trees, sylvan ravines, and rocky
places, adding greatly to the singular beauty of the surrounding
country. The roofs of the houses, which are generally about five or six
stories high, were seen shining in the sun above the serrated lines of
the ramparts; and rearing high above all rose the enormous gothic tower
and spire of the ancient cathedral, the red sky appearing between
pinnacle and buttress, flying arch and traceried window, giving a
peculiar appearance of lightness and richness to the huge dark mass.
The opinion formed by the soldiers on first viewing Toledo was changed
on entering it, and seeing the close, crooked, desolate, and filthy
alleys which branch off in every direction.
A very handsome street, where the cathedral stands, and which leads to
the great square, is, or was, the principal one in the city, and was
kept tolerably well paved and clean. But every thing which meets the
eye announces decay, and attests that trade, commerce, wealth, and glory
have departed from Toledo. The population, which once exceeded two
hundred thousand souls, has now sunk to about one eighth of that number.
At the city gate the troops were met by a number of the Spanish nobility
and their attendants on horseback, followed by crowds of the citizens,
who received them with loud acclamations. The alcaldes, headed by the
governor, El Medico, a fierce guerilla chief, appeared at the archway,
attired in their robes of scarlet, and attended by halderdiers and
alguazils dressed in short black cloaks and doublets, and wearing broad
hats, from beneath which their long hair hung down on their jagged lace
collars. Numerous bands of ecclesiastics, chanting as they came, and
bearing banner, cross, and smoking chalice, were likewise in attendance.
Above their dark masses were borne aloft the dressed-up images of the
Virgin, Santa Casilda, and San Ildefonso, of whom so many legends are
told in Toledo. These affairs, fluttering with rich drapery and blazing
with jewels, displayed all that singular mixture of mummery, religion,
and _effect_, which is so much studied in the rites of the church of
Rome.
In the name of King Ferdinand of Spain as his representative, and of the
alcaldes and citizens of Toledo as their governor, El Medico welcomed
Sir Rowland Hill and the soldiers of the _fighting division_ to the
ancient capital of Spain, in a speech of wonderful length and pomposity.
As the brigades marched through the city, the joyous acclamations of the
people, the tolling of bells, the chant of the priests, the din and
uproar, the reiterated cheers and shouts of "Long live Ferdinand the
Seventh! Long live the brave British nation! _Viva, Don Rowland Hill,
viva!_" resounding on all sides, almost drowned the music of the bands
and tramp of the marching feet. Even Ranald-Dhu, the piper-major of the
Gordon Highlanders, with his six colleagues, had to blow their bags up
with might and main before they could make themselves heard. The
martial, yet wild-looking garb of the 92nd attracted great attention,
and a dense crowd of staring Spaniards squeezed along on the flanks of
the regiment, accompanying it through all the streets. The Highland
garb was a new sight to the citizens of Toledo, who, although they had
heard of the bare-kneed Scottish regiments, with whose valour all Spain
was ringing, they now beheld one of them within the walls of the city
for the first time. The remarkable appearance of Dugald Mhor, with his
snowy tresses and blue bonnet, marching close to the colonel's side,
elicited many a shout of wonder; but the old Gael was too much
accustomed to be distinguished thus, and cared nothing about it as he
strode on with his long claymore swinging at his thigh, and his brass
target slung on his back. What the latter with its brass studs and steel
pike could be, it was impossible for the Spaniards to conjecture; but
they imagined it to be some unmeaning badge of office, like the gold
stick of the Guards, and concluded that Dugald was some very important
personage among the strangers. The windows and terraced tops of the
houses were crowded with people, and the balconies overlooking the
streets were filled with ladies, who kissed their white hands, waved
their veils, and tossed bouquets of flowers, and even their little
gloves to the officers, crying ever and anon,--"_Long live Sir Rowland
Hill! Sus valiente caballeros y soldados, viva!_"
The balconies were decorated with garlands of flowers, quilts, carpets,
and pieces of ancient tapestry; the banners of noble families, of
corporations, and of Spain, waved from the windows amid gaudy pennons
and streamers of every kind. Hurrah! it was indeed a magnificent scene
of joy, noise, and uproar. Every man wearing the red coat was the
friend of the Spaniard; and even the wearied little drum-boy, lugging
along his drum, was a hero and a deliverer of Spain. That night solemn
prayers for the success of the British arms were offered up in the great
cathedral. The outside of its dome and spire were blazing with myriads
of variegated lamps, and the town was illuminated with great splendour.
The lighted-up spire presented a most singular appearance for leagues
around. Rising from the glittering city, it stood like a vast column of
fire against the dusky sky, causing the windings of the Tagus to gleam
afar off, from the savage defiles and deep gorges through which it
wanders. The soldiers were billeted on the inhabitants of the city,
within the walls; and the general with his staff was received into the
mansion of the governor, El Medico.
The Highlanders and the left wing of an English regiment (the 66th, I
believe) were quartered in the mouldering palace of the ancient kings of
Castile,--the Alcanzar, a building which has since degenerated into a
house of refuge for the poor. In the evening the theatre was thronged
with officers of the division, the ladies and all fashionable people in
the town, to witness the representation of a new piece. It was entitled
_The Plains of Salamanca_, and composed by a young student of Toledo in
honour of the late victory obtained by the British arms. Between the
acts or _jornados_, the bands of the 34th regiment and of the
Highlanders occupied the orchestra, and played a number of Spanish airs
in compliment to the audience.
A comic opera, called the _tonadilla_, closed the amusements of the
evening. It was performed by a single person, a young and pretty
actress, who sang, in a remarkably sweet voice, a long story or ballad
full of drollery, love-adventures, and gallantry, drawing loud applause
and astounding _vivas_ from the audience, with whom she appeared to be a
decided favourite, the stage being strewed with the chaplets and
bouquets of flowers tossed to her by cavaliers from the boxes and pit.
Certainly the whole performance did not impress the British portion of
the audience with a very high opinion of the state of the Spanish
theatre. The house was small, ill-constructed, ill-fitted up, and
ill-lighted with a few oil lamps, the nauseous fumes of which, mixed
with those of oranges, cigars, and garlic, rendered the atmosphere very
far from pure. The scenes were daubs, the attire of the actors rags,
and the play destitute of talent; but the beauty of the bright-eyed
ladies in the boxes, the pretty actress with her _tonadilla_, and the
martial music in the orchestra, were sufficient to counterbalance other
drawbacks and defects.
Sir Rowland's division lay two days in Toledo. On the evening before
they marched, Ronald made a tour of the city to view all worth seeing.
After visiting the famous sword manufactory, which yet flourishes as of
old, he bent his steps towards the cathedral, the doors of which (like
those of all continental churches) stood open day and night. It was
almost dark when he entered it, and the appearance of that vast temple,
when involved in gloom and mystery, is fully calculated to impress the
mind with holy sadness, with pure veneration, and with awe. The pale
light of the moon and stars, twinkling through eighty-six tinted and
traceried windows, glimmered alternately on the scores of massive and
magnificent columns that upheld the lofty roof, and showing them where
the perspective of "the long-drawn aisles" vanished away in darkness and
obscurity. Six tall candles twinkled before the dark painting on the
altar, and many holy tapers gleamed fitfully in far recesses before the
shrines and images of Eugenius, Casilda, Ildefonso, Leocadia, and other
favourite saints of Toledo, before which many a solitary devotee knelt
on the cold pavement in earnest prayer.
The dark figures of monks and cavaliers,--the latter in broad hats and
long cloaks, were gliding noiselessly about, adding greatly to the
general effect of the scene. They moved like shadows: scarcely a
foot-fall was heard as they trod lightly on the carved stones, beneath
which sleep many a king and queen of fair Castile,--many a proud grandee
and redoubtable warrior.
After endeavouring to decipher by the dim light of a neighbouring shrine
the pompous inscriptions on the marble tombs of the great Don Alvar de
Luna, Cardinal Mendoza, and others, Ronald turned to leave the place,
his mind filled with admiration and enthusiasm at its vastness,
grandeur, solemnity, and magnificence. As he passed down one of the
side-aisles, indulging in a train of these fine sentiments, they were
cut short, somewhat abruptly, by a person coming violently against him
in the dark.
"Sir, you are very unceremonious," cried Ronald angrily, feeling for his
sword. "What do you mean by coming against me thus rudely?"
"I believe I may, without injustice, ask the same question of you,"
answered a familiar voice; and as they advanced from between the columns
into the light of a shrine, Ronald beheld with surprise the face of
Louis Lisle.
"I did not expect you so very suddenly, and especially here at Toledo,"
said he, dubious in what manner to greet his old friend, whose features
became at once clouded by the cold and stern expression which they had
generally worn of late, especially since the hour in which he beheld the
interview between Stuart and Catalina in the cottage at Almarez. "You
have made expedition in your march from Lisbon."
"I arrived here about two hours ago, with a detachment of convalescents
from Belem. You are aware that the division marches at sun-rise
to-morrow; so I wish to see the cathedral before leaving Toledo," and
turning coldly, he was about to move off.