The ladies soon appeared attired for the carriage; each closely shawled, with her elaborately dressed hair covered by an ample riding-hood of black satin. The evening had now turned to night, and four servants bearing links lighted us to the portico; where stood the well hung and clashing carriage of the Visconte, whose footmen were clad in a livery so gay, that my uniform was almost cast in the shade by comparison.
The vehicle being light, and the horses swift and strong, we dashed at a tremendous rate over a road so rough and stony that all attempts at conversation were rendered futile by the jolting and noise: I never endured such a shaking, save once, when I had the pleasure of being conveyed, severely wounded, from Cefalu to Palermo, on a sixteen-pounder gun. All the Neapolitans, I believe, are addicted to furious driving. As the carriage swayed from side to side, I expected, at every lurch, that the whole party would be upset, and scattered on the road. However, no such mishap occurred, and in a very short time, with the gay chasseur galloping in front, we were flying through the paved streets of Nicastro—a large and well built city, on the frontiers of the Upper Province.
High hills, covered with thick foliage, and watered by innumerable cascades, arise on every side of Nicastro; while towering above its houses and ample convents, stands the black, embattled keep of the ancient castle: within the strong chambers of which Enrico, Prince of Naples, paid the penalty of his rebellion, by a long and dreary captivity.
We drove through a lofty archway, and drew up in the crowded quadrangle of a brilliantly-illuminated palace; from the windows of which the light streamed down on densely-packed carriages, horses richly caparisoned, gilded hammercloths, and the glancing plumes and liveries of footmen, drivers, and chasseurs, or outriders. The palace was situated immediately opposite the shrine of poor Sancto Gennaro—whom we involved in total darkness, by extinguishing all his consecrated tapers as we swept through the Strada Ruffo.
On alighting, I was about to give my arm to the Viscontessa, but happily her son anticipated me, and I had the more agreeable office of ushering his fair cousin up the splendid staircase of the mansion; which displayed on every hand the usual profusion of vases and Italian statuary, coloured lamps, gilding, and frescos.
"It is, then, a conversazione?" I observed to Bianca.
"Yes, signor; but you will find little conversing here," she replied, smiling in such a way as to reveal a row of brilliant little teeth. "Ah! 't is a horrible den!" she added, with a sigh. "You are a stranger among us, and will surely become a victim. Oh, caro signor! let me implore you not to play, whatever my cousin the Visconte may say to induce you, as you will surely be stripped of every ducat: and above all, do not quarrel with any one, or you will as certainly be—killed!"
"Pleasant!" said I, surprised at her advice, and the earnestness with which it was given. "But I trust, cara signora, that my Scottish caution will protect me from the first danger; while a keen blade and a stout arm may be my guard against the second."
"Alas!" she sighed, "your sabre will little avail you in an encounter with the stiletto of a revengeful Calabrian. Said you, signor, that you came from la Scozia—the land of Ossian and Fingal?"
I looked upon her animated face with surprise and inquiry.
"Ah! why so astonished? I have read the Abate Melchior Cesarotti, with whose translation all Italy is enraptured. But, Signor Claude," she added gaily, "remember my caution: you are under my guidance to-night."
I pressed the hand of the amiable girl, and assured her that I would abide entirely by her advice. I could not sufficiently admire that innate goodness of heart which made her so interested in the welfare and safety of a comparative stranger.
The noble staircase, the illuminated corridors, and magnificent saloons of the palace, were crowded with all the rich, the gay, and the luxurious of Nicastro and the villas scattered along the coast, and fresh arrivals were incessantly alighting from vehicles of every description—the lumbering and gorgeous old-fashioned chariot, the clattering calesso, and the humble jog-trot sedan. Some guests came on horseback; but none who could avoid it came on foot: to use his legs on such an occasion would be considered a blot on the escutcheon of a Neapolitan gentleman; who, if he has the least pretension to dignity, deems some sort of vehicle an indispensable appendage. But the French had appropriated a vast number of horses for baggage and other purposes; and those cavaliers who had lost their equipages were fain to steal in unseen among the press, or remain at home; forfeiting the rich harvest which the open halls and ample tables of the Prince of Sant' Agata promised to every needy gentleman, sharp-witted dowager, and desperate rogue.
"Truly," thought I, while surveying the gay assemblage, "the land is not so desolate as we have been led to imagine!" But probably so dazzling a concourse would not have met, but for the presence of our army; which now lay between them and their hated enemies.
In a spacious saloon ornamented with statues and paintings, where the lights of the girandoles were flashed back from gilded pendants and shining columns and sparkled in bright gems and brighter eyes, stood the prince, receiving the stream of company glittering with epaulettes, orders, stars, and jewellery, which poured in through the folding-doors. He was a withered little man, whom I had often seen at Palermo. Like too many who were present, he was said to have succumbed to General Regnier; but now, encouraged by our presence, he had hoisted the flag of the Bourbons on his palace, and donned the green uniform of the Sicilian Scoppetteria, or Fusiliers of the Guard, while the star of St. Mark the Glorious sparkled on his breast.
None of our staff had yet arrived; and the Signora Bianca presented me formally to her relation the prince; who inquired, with an affectation of interest, about the health of the general—the number of our forces—what news of the enemy: but I saw him no more that night. Moving onward with the throng, we found ourselves passing through the opposite folding-doors, opening into another room of the suite, which was the grand scene of operations. Here the tables for faro and rouge-et-noir were already glittering with ducats, piastres, and yellow English guineas, mingled with Papal scudi and Venetian sequins. Seats were seized, and places occupied, with the utmost eagerness: but I had not made up my mind whether to play or not. Standing behind Bianca's chair, and leaning over the back of it, I was much more occupied with her snowy shoulders, her uplifted eyes, and parted rosy lips, when she turned towards me, than with the company; of whom she gave me an account. To my surprise, she included in her enumeration one or two very jaunty cavaliers, who were supposed to be leaders of banditti—or, to speak more gently, free companions—who had been raised to the rank of patriotic soldiers by turning their knives and rifles against the French, and co-operating with the chiefs of the Masse.
I confessed that I did not feel quite at home in such mixed society; but Bianca only smiled at my scruples, shrugged her fair shoulders, and made no reply.
A soft symphony, which at that moment floated from the music-gallery through the lofty apartments, preluded the famous waltz of Carolina, and announced that a few of the younger visitors preferred the more polite and graceful amusement of the dance to rattling dice and insipid cards.
"Deuced hot here, is it not?" said Lascelles, my brother aide-de-camp, as he passed me, adroitly handing a very pretty girl through the press round the tables. "The dancers are beginning; for the honour of the corps, you must join us, or some of those fellows of the 81st may march away with your fair companion." He moved away, with a knowing wink.
"'T is the little Signora Gismondo—very pretty, is she not?" said Bianca. The girl might have been termed supremely beautiful; and not more so than unfortunate: but of that more anon. She waved her hand invitingly to Bianca, and with her long satin train swept through the folding-doors. Fearful of being anticipated by some of our staff, whom I saw in close confab' with Santugo, I solicited the hand of his fair cousin for the first waltz.
She glanced inquiringly at her aunt, who, smiling, bowed an assent, as she swept a pile of ducats towards her. I drew the white-gloved hand of Bianca across my arm; and in a moment more we were whirling in the giddy circle of the waltzers.
With so fair a partner, and a heart buoyant with youth, vivacity, and love, how joyously one winds through the mazes of that voluptuous dance which is peculiarly the national measure of Italy. Never shall I forget the happiness of that "hour of joy"—the time when Bianca raised her soft, hazel eyes to mine, as if imploring the additional support which my arm so readily yielded—the beaming smile and hurried whisper—the half caress, with soft curls fanning your cheek, the flushing face and flashing eye—oh, the giddy, joyous waltz! It has a charm which will alike outlive prudish censure and pungent satire: even that of the witty Lance Langstaff. I mentally bequeathed Santugo to the great master of mischief, when he dragged us back to the gambling saloon.
After a scanty allowance of ices, wine and fruit had been handed round, or scrambled for at the side tables, the most important business of the evening commenced in earnest. Then came the tug of war! Hundreds of eager eyes, some of them bright and bewitching, were greedily gloating on the shifting heaps, which glittered on the tables of the prince's hell: for, by thus disgracing his palace, his altezza cleared an annual income of twelve thousand ducats. The closeness of the evening, combined with the pressure of the crowd at the tables, soon rendered the atmosphere of the saloon quite oppressive; the faces of the ladies became flushed, and the iced malvasia was most acceptable and delicious.
The general and staff had by this time arrived, and I soon became aware that we were the lions of the evening: our scarlet uniforms and silver epaulettes attracted universal observation. My fair Italian was sensible of this, and seemed proud to have me as her cavalier: her eyes sparkled with animation, and her vivacity increased; while her little heart bounded with delight at this momentary triumph over sundry disappointed cavalieri and female rivals. Vanity apart, a rich foreign uniform on a tolerably good figure has a great attraction for female eyes. But counts and countesses, cavaliers and signoras, even dark-robed ecclesiastics (for there was a sprinkling of them), soon became completely absorbed in the affairs of the table: for gambling is the ruling passion on the continent.
"They neither have nor want any other amusement than this last," says Kotzebue, writing of the Neapolitans. "The states of Europe are overthrown; they game not the less. Pompeii comes forth from its grave; they game still. Vesuvius vomits forth flames, yet the splendid gaming-table is not left. The ruins of Paestum a few miles distant, shining as it were before every eye, must be discovered by strangers: for the Neapolitans are gaming. The greatest dukes and princes are keepers of gambling-tables." As it was in the capital, so was it in all the provinces.
Most of the ladies were attended by cavaliers; some of the married, by that indescribable contingent on Italian matrimony (which we must hope is disappearing)—a cicisbéo. A courtly old gentleman who had attended the Viscontessa during her married life, now sat beside her; sorting her cards, handing ices, and smiling as sweetly as if she were still a belle: he was the Signor Battista Gismondo, a major of the loyal Masse. On the other side sat Bianca, watching the various turns of the game; although, for a time, she refused to take a part in it herself.
We were seated at the faro table, the acting banker of which was the Duke of Bagnara, a professed gamester, and friend of the prince; as also were the croupiers, il Cavaliere Benedetto del Castagno, and Castelermo, a knight of Malta, with whom I had been on terms of intimacy at Palermo. The latter was bailiff, or commander, of St. Eufemio: but, alas! in the wars of Buonaparte, the commanderie had been scattered, and the preceptory house reduced to ruins. He was a tall, swarthy, broad-chested, and noble-looking fellow, and still wore the habit of his order: a scarlet uniform, lapelled and faced with black velvet, and laced with gold, having epaulettes of the same, with an eight-pointed cross of silver on each; a large silver cross of eight points figured on the breast, and an embroidered belt sustained a long cross-hilted sword. Coal-black mustachios, protruding fiercely from his upper lip, completed his soldier-like aspect. One of the last knights of his order, he was, perhaps, also the last of his proud and distinguished race; and he certainly looked a thorough Italian cavalier of the old school.
Before the banker lay heaps of coin, to which the gamesters continually directed their greedy eyes, flashing alternately with rage, exultation, or envy, as the piles of gold and silver changed owners, and were swept hurriedly into bags and purses by the long bony fingers of sharp-eyed priests, and sharper old ladies: who were too often winners to be pleasant company at the tables generally. Although the duke was the nominal holder of the bank, Santugo (who had lost considerably, and was, therefore, out of humour) informed me that the prince had the principal share in it, and that the profits were divided between them, when the company separated. I could not but feel the greatest disgust at the place, and contempt for the majority of the company; where women of rank and beauty degraded themselves by mixing with high-born blacklegs and professed gamesters, whose tricks and expressions were worthy of the meanest "hell" in London or Paris.
One hideous fellow, in particular, attracted my attention. He was a dwarf, and bulky in figure, but scarcely four feet in height, and miserably deformed: his head and arms would have suited a strong man of six feet high; but the head was half buried between his brawny shoulders and a prodigious hump, which rose upon his back, and his arms reached far below his bandy knees. He had the aspect as well as the proportions of a baboon; for masses of black and matted locks hung round his knobby and unshapely cranium, while a bushy beard of wiry black hair, and thick, dirty mustachios, with fierce eyes twinkling restlessly on each side of an enormous nose, made up a visage of satyr-like character. His person contrasted strangely with the garb he wore, which was the serge robe of San Pietro di Pisa: a brotherhood suppressed in 1809 by a decree of Murat, King of Naples.
This monster was the most successful player present: he eyed the cards in the hand of others more keenly than his own suite; and I soon became convinced that he knew the backs as well as the fronts of them: yet the cards were perfectly new. He was opposed to the Viscontessa, and notwithstanding her skill, acquired by the nightly gamblings of five-and-thirty years, he stripped her of a thousand ducats; every bet he made being successful: his long ungainly arms and large brown hands, found continual occupation in sweeping the money into a vast pouch which hung at his knotted girdle; and he always accompanied the act with such a provoking grin of malignant exultation, that I felt inclined to box his ears.
Bianca d'Alfieri blushed and trembled with shame and sorrow, on beholding the defeat and bitter mortification of her aunt; who sat like a statue of despair, when her last ducat vanished into the capacious bag of the hideous, little religioso: but her misery was unheeded by those around, and even by her son, whose angry gestures and flashing eyes led me to suppose that he was encountering an equal run of bad fortune at the rouge-et-noir table. He had acted all night as a sort of assistant to the banker, whom he often rendered uneasy by the enormous stakes he answered.
"Bravone! sharper! oh, villain hunchback!" exclaimed the old lady, kindling with uncontrollable fury at the loss of her gold; "I will punish thee yet! My jewels are still left, and demon, though thou art in face and figure, never shalt thou conquer Giulia d'Alfieri."
She unclasped a tiara of brilliants from her head, removed a costly necklace from her bosom, and with trembling haste drew off her rings and bracelets, which she cast on the table as a stake. The banker and the knight of Malta attempted to interpose; but the hunchback had already accepted the challenge with a fiendish grin of delight, promising to answer the stake on his own responsibility.
"Madonna mia! my dearest aunt, beware!" urged the plaintive voice of Bianca: but the Viscontessa heard her not. With straining eyes she watched the fatal cards, which once more were told out slowly and deliberately; while every eye was fixed, and every lip compressed, as if the fate of Europe lay on the turning up of these "bits of painted pasteboard."
The Viscontessa lost! Clasping her hands, she looked wildly round her for a moment; Gismondo, her venerable cicisbéo, presented his arm, and led her from the table in an agony of chagrin. Bianca unconsciously laid her hand on mine, and sighed deeply.
"I am a sharper and bully, am I, illusstrissima?" chuckled the hunchbacked rogue, as he swept the glittering jewels into his pouch, and chuckled, wheezed, grinned, and snapped his fingers, like an animated punchinello.
"Bravo! bravissimo! The signora called me ass too, I think! A hard name to use in this illustrious company. Ho, ho! there are few asses so richly laden, and fewer bullies whose bags are so well filled."
"Silence, fellow!" cried Castelermo, sternly; "silence, and begone!"
"Instantly," replied the other, with a dark look; "but keep me in remembrance, signor. I am Gaspare Truffi—thou knowest me: all on this side of Naples know me; and some on the other side, too." Here his eyes encountered mine, which I had unconsciously fixed upon him, with an angry frown of astonishment and contempt.
"Ho, ho! Signor Subalterno," said he, not daunted in the least; "spare your frowns for those whom they are calculated to frighten. I have not seen you playing to-night—will you try your hand with me? But, no; you dare not: you are afraid to risk a paltry bajocco!"
"Signor Canonico!" I replied, sternly, "beware how you venture to insult or taunt me. Recollect, rascal, that neither the presence upon which you have intruded yourself, nor your black robe, may be a protection against a horsewhip, should I be provoked so far as to use one on that unshapely figure of yours."
"Corpo di Cristo!" cried he, while his eyes glared with avarice and fury; "will you answer my stake, Signor Claude?"
"Undoubtedly: but was it the devil told you my name?"
"You have guessed it, my good friend—Satan himself," he answered, with a grin; and flung his great heavy purse upon the table.
"A thousand ducats on the black lozenge," said I.
"Double or quit!" he rejoined, and I bowed an assent, though I had not above twenty ducats in my purse. But enraged at his insolent arrogance in the presence of so many, I was determined to go on, neck or nothing, and punish him, or myself, for engaging in a contest so contemptible. He staked his money; which it was agreed by the banker and croupiers must be entirely at his own risk, and independent of them. I staked my word, which was of course deemed sufficient. The cards were dealt with a precision which gave me full time to repent (when too late) of the desperate affair in which I had become involved with a regular Italian sharper. I dreaded the disgrace of incurring a debt of honour, which could not be conveniently discharged: for I had no means of raising the money, save by bills on England. There was also to be feared the displeasure of the general; who, like all my countrymen, was stedfastly opposed to gambling, and strictly enforced those parts of the "Articles of War" referring to that fashionable mode of getting rid of one's money. Agitated by these disagreeable thoughts, I knew not how the game went: the room, seemed to swim around me; and I was first aroused to consciousness by Bianca's soft arm pressing mine, and by a rapturous burst of exultation from the company, who had crowded, in breathless expectation, around the table.
I had won!
Gaspare Truffi uttered a furious imprecation, and tossing out of his bloated bag a thousand and ten ducats, together with all the jewels he had so recently won, the discomfited dwarf rushed from the table, with a yell like that of a wounded lynx. I now rose greatly in the estimation of the right honourable company: they crowded round me with congratulations for my victory over the hunchbacked priest; whom they seemed equally to dread and despise.
The jewels and gold I secured in my breast pocket, lest some nimble hand in the crowd might save me the trouble. It was by this time long past midnight, and Luigi, who had borne an unusual run of ill-luck not very philosophically, proposed that we should retire. He had lost a large sum of money to the Baron di Bivona, and they parted in high displeasure, with mutual threats and promises of meeting again.
We were soon in the carriage, and leaving Nicastro behind us at the rate of twelve miles an hour. When passing through the porch of the palace, I caught sight of a strange crouching figure looking like a black bundle under the shadow of a column. A deep groan, as the carriage swept past, announced that it was the hunchback, whom I had perhaps reduced to penury. For a moment the contest and the victory were repented; but a few hours afterwards proved to me that he was unworthy of commiseration.
The morning of the battle was one of the most beautiful and serene I ever beheld, even in Italy. As the curtain of night was drawn aside, and the bright beams of morning lighted up the giant masses of the Apennines, the green rice-fields, and luxuriant vineyards; white-walled towns and villages, solitary convents and feudal castles, waving woods, and the indentations of the rocky coast, all became tinted with their most pleasing hues. But the surpassing splendour of the sun—in whose joyous effulgence the whole glorious landscape seemed palpitating with delight—the clearness of the atmosphere, and the deep blue of the wondrous vault above us, were all forgotten, or unheeded: we thought only of the foe in position before us; while the dropping fire from our flankers, who had commenced skirmishing with the French tirailleurs, kept us keenly alive to the desperate work which had to be accomplished ere the sun sank below the sea. When that hour came, might I be alive to behold it? How many an eye that looked on its glorious rising, would then be closed for ever!
General Regnier's troops were encamped below Maida, on the face of a thickly-wooded hill, which sloped into the plain of St. Eufemio. The Amato, a river which, though fordable, has very muddy and marshy banks, ran along the front of his line, while his flanks were strengthened and defended by groves of laurel bushes, and a thick impervious underwood, which he had filled with scattered light troops. Cavaliére Castagno by his influence among the peasantry, obtained hourly any intelligence we required; and just before the battle begun, he conveyed to me, for the general's information, the unpleasing tidings, that Monteleone's corps, to the number of three thousand men, were now moving into position on the French right. General Regnier was now at the head of eight thousand bayonets, while we had little more than half that number, exclusive of the Calabrians, on whom, as yet, we could not rely much in the field; and they were, consequently, to form a corps of reserve: much to the annoyance of the gallant Santugo and his friends.
We marched in close column of subdivisions, parallel with the sea-shore, until we had nearly turned Regnier's left; and as our movements were all made in a spacious plain, with the morning sun glaring on our serried ranks and burnished arms, he had an excellent view of our numbers and intentions. Had Regnier quietly maintained his position on the hill, we would soon have turned it altogether, and thus placed him between us and the sea; where Sir Sydney's squadron lay, broadside to the shore, with ports open and guns double shotted. To us the movement was full of peril: our retreat might be cut off; while, in consequence of the smallness of our force, the difficulties of access, and the natural strength of the ridge on which the enemy was posted, we should have found it no easy task to drive him back.
Whether the Frenchman feared he should be out-flanked, or was encouraged by his numbers to attack us, I know not; but he soon crossed the Amato, in order of battle, and moved his entire force into the plain, where his corps of cavalry—an arm, of which we were, most unfortunately, deficient—would act more effectively.
As yet, not a shot had been fired: the enemy continued advancing towards us steadily and in line; their arms flashing, colours fluttering in the breeze, and drums beating in sharp and measured time. They halted by sound of trumpet, and, at the head of a glittering staff, Regnier swept, at a gallop, from the right flank to the left.
"Gentlemen," said Sir John to his staff, on first observing this new movement of the enemy; "ride at full speed to the battalions, and order them to deploy into line. Mr. Lascelles, desire Cole to take up his ground where he is now. Dundas, you will direct Major Le Moine to get his guns into position on that knoll, where the wooden cross stands—to have them unlimbered, and ready to open on the enemy's line the moment he deems it within range. Order Lieutenant Colonel Kempt to throw forward the whole of his light infantry, double quick, and in extended order to "feel" the enemy, and keep their tirailleurs in check."
Saluting with one hand, I wheeled Cartouche round with the other, gave him the spur, and galloped on my mission; delivering the order to deploy into line as I passed the heads of the different columns. In three minutes Le Moine had his field-pieces at the appointed post, and wheeled round; the iron pintles drawn, the limbers cast off, and the muzzles pointed to the enemy. Leaping from his horse, he levelled, and fired the first shot himself.
It was the signal gun, announcing that the work of destruction and death had begun in grim, earnest. My heart beat thick and fast; every pulse quickened, and a proud, almost fierce and wild sensation, swelled within me, as the sharp report rang through the clear still air, and the white smoke floated away from the green knoll, revealing the dark cannon that bristled around it.
I reined up my gallant grey on an eminence, to watch the effect of the ball. General Regnier, escorted by fifty dragoons, their brass helmets and bright swords flashing in the sun, was at that moment galloping back to his right flank; and on this group the shot took effect: a commotion was visible among them immediately, and they rode on at a quicker pace, leaving a dark heap behind them—a rider and his horse lay dying or dead. The whole of our field-pieces now opened a rapid cannonade on the French line, and continued it incessantly during the action.
By this time the light infantry were hotly engaged: the Sicilian volunteers, the Corsicans, and our provisional light battalion, were filling the dark-green underwood, and the leafy groves along the banks of the Amato, with smoke; while hill, rock, and woodland rang with the ceaseless patter of the fire they rained on the French tirailleurs, who blazed at them in return with equal spirit, from behind every screen afforded by the irregularity of the ground. As the lines drew nearer, the light troops, as if by tacit agreement, were withdrawn by sound of bugle; and by nine o'clock in the morning the battle had become general, from centre to flanks.
The corps which formed the right of our advanced line, was a provisional battalion commanded by Colonel Kempt, and composed of the light companies of six of our regiments from Sicily, and that of de Watteville's corps, with a hundred and fifty picked men of the 35th under Major Robinson. These troops were opposed to the 1st regiment of French light infantry (the favourite corps of the Emperor), which they mauled in glorious style; pouring in a deadly fire at about a hundred yards distance. On their left was the corps of General Ackland, composed of the 78th, or Ross-shire Highlanders, the 81st regiment, and five companies of de Watteville's, with the 58th under the late General Sir John Oswald, then colonel.
General Cole, with the provisional battalion of grenadiers, and the 27th, formed our left. Such was the disposition of our little army when engaging the enemy, whose force mustered almost two to one. Sir Sydney Smith by this time had taken a position with his ships and gun-boats, to act and co-operate if circumstances favoured; but, much to the annoyance of the gallant sailor, his fleet could yield us no assistance during that day's fighting.
Led by the chivalric Macleod of Geanies—a brave officer, who afterwards fell in Egypt—the 78th rushed upon the enemy, with the wild and headlong impetuosity of their countrymen. I was close by their dashing colonel, when, sword in hand, he led them on.
"Forward the Ross-shire buffs! Let them feel the bayonet—charge!" And animated to a sort of martial phrenzy by the shrill pibroch—whose wild and sonorous war-blast rang as loudly on the plain of Maida as ever it did by the glassy Loch-duich, when the bale-fires of the M'Kenzie blazed on continent and isle—the bold Highlanders flung themselves with a yell upon the masses of the enemy. They were opposed to the French 42d regiment of grenadiers—a corps led by that brave French officer upon whom Buonaparte had bestowed the Calabrian title of Marchese di Monteleone. Riding in advance of his soldiers, by words and gestures the most enthusiastic, he urged them to advance, to keep together, to hold their ground. But his sabre was brandished, and the war-cry shouted, in vain; and vain, too, were the desperate efforts of his grenadiers before the tremendous charge of our Highlanders. Overwhelmed and broken, they were driven back in confusion, and pursued with slaughter by the 78th; until the latter were so far in advance of our whole line that Sir John sent me after them at full gallop, with an order to halt and re-form, in case of their being cut off.
I delivered the order to Macleod, who was stooping from his horse in the arms of a sergeant of his regiment, and almost unable to speak. A rifle-ball had passed through his breast, within an inch of the heart, inflicting a most severe and dangerous wound: yet he quitted not the field, but remained on horseback, and at the head of his Highlanders, during the remainder of the action, and the fierce pursuit which followed it.
Drumlugas, a captain of the corps, in the melée unhorsed the Marchese, who narrowly escaped with the loss of his steed and sabre: these remained the trophies of the victor, who distinguished himself by more conquests and captures ere the day was done.
Colonel Kempt's corps was now within a few yards of the enemy, and the deadly fire which they had been pouring upon each other was suspended, "as if by mutual agreement," as Sir John stated in his despatch; "and in close, compact order, and with awful silence, they advanced towards each other, until the bayonets began to cross. At this momentous crisis, the enemy became appalled; they broke, and endeavoured to fly; but it was too late: they were overtaken with most dreadful slaughter." Ere they fled—
"Dundas, ride to Brigadier-General Ackland; let him push forward his brave corps, and complete that which Kempt has so nobly begun!" cried the general. I departed with this order, on the spur; but it was anticipated by Ackland, who was already leading on in triumph, through clouds of smoke, and over heaps of dead and dying, the 78th and 81st: shoulder to shoulder, they rushed on, with bayonets levelled to the charge—cool, compact, and resolute. Discomfited by their formidable aspect, and the impetuosity of this movement, the whole of the French left wing gave way, and retired in confusion, leaving the plain strewn with killed and wounded. The river Amato was choked with the bodies and crimsoned with the blood of those who, unable by wounds or fatigue to cross the stream, became entangled among the thick sedges on its banks; where they perished miserably, either by the bayonets of the pursuers or by drowning.
At that moment a dashing French officer, at the head of three hundred heavy dragoons, made a desperate attempt to retrieve the honour of France and the fortune of the day: rushing forward at full speed through the white clouds of rolling smoke, he attempted to turn the left of the 81st, and capture three field-pieces posted between that regiment and the Ross-shire Buffs.
"Allons, mes enfans! Napoleon! Napoleon! allons!" cried he, waving his sabre aloft. "Vive l'Empereur! Guerre à mort!" was the answering shout of his fierce troopers, as they swept onward in solid squadron; their brandished swords and long line of brass helmets gleaming in the sun, while their tricoloured Guideon and waving crests of black horse-hair danced on the passing breeze. But the steady fire of the Highlanders made them recoil obliquely, and I found myself most unexpectedly among them, when spurring onward with the order to Ackland: to deliver which with speed, I had the temerity to ride through a little hollow raked by the fire of the three guns already mentioned, and along which these dragoons had advanced unseen amid the smoke.
The press was tremendous: riders cursed and shrieked as they were thrown and trod to death; horses were plunging and kicking; and both fell fast on every side. Twenty swords at once gleamed around me, and their cuts whistled on every side, as I attempted desperately to break through the dense, heaving mass of men and horses. My heart leaped within me, my brain reeled, and my blood seemed on fire: I struck to the right, left, and rear, giving point and cut with the utmost rapidity; never attempting to ward off the flashing blades that played around my bare head—for my gay staff hat, with its red and white plume, had vanished in the melée. I must inevitably have been unhorsed and cut down, but for a sudden volley that was poured in point blank upon the cavalry from the dark brushwood covering one side of the gorge. A score of saddles were emptied, and many a strong horse and gallant rider rolled on the turf in the agonies of death; while all the survivors, save their officers alone, retreated at full gallop to the French position.
Next moment the whole line of the dashing 20th, led on by Lieutenant-colonel Ross, started out from their ambush in the thick underwood; where the regiment lay concealed during the smoke and confusion of the battle, unseen even by ourselves. Having only landed that morning from Messina, they had come up with our army during the heat of the contest; and Ross, observing the movement of the enemy's cavalry, threw his battalion into the thicket, the sudden flank-fire from which completely foiled their attempt upon our cannon. One man only of the 20th fell: but he was deeply regretted by the whole regiment—Captain Maclean (the son of Gilian Maclean of Scallecastle, in the Isle of Mull), an officer who had served with distinction in Holland, in the first expedition to Egypt, and elsewhere.
The Frenchman who had led on the dragoons seemed to be one of those daring and reckless fellows who scorn flight, and laugh at danger; so, venting a malediction on his runaway troops, he rode alone towards me. The 20th and other corps near us, seeing that we were well matched, with a chivalric resolution to see fair play, suspended their fire to let us prove our mettle, while they looked on.
Being an expert swordsman, and master of my horse, so far that I could clear a five-barred gate or cross a hunting country with any man, I had but slight fear as to the issue of the encounter; yet it flashed upon my mind, that to be signally defeated in front of our whole army would be worse than death. My antagonist was about thirty years of age, with a form modelled like that of a young Hercules; and his aspect and bearing led me to conclude that the encounter would be a tough one. He belonged to the staff, and on his breast glittered the star of the Iron Crown of Lombardy: a badge bestowed upon five hundred knights (the flower of his officers) created by Napoleon on his recent coronation at Milan, as king of Italy.
We advanced within twelve yards of each other, and then rode our horses warily round in a circle; each watching the eyes and movements of the other, with stern caution and alert vigilance, such as the time and circumstances could alone draw forth: the life of one depended on the death of the other. At last I rushed furiously to the assault, making a cut seemingly at the head of my antagonist, but changing it adroitly to his bridle hand; the stroke missed the man, but cut through both curb and snaffle rein. I deemed him now completely at my mercy; but as he had a chain-rein attached to his bridle, nothing was gained by the first stroke.
"Monsieur, I disdain to return the compliment!" said he carelessly, while, with a laugh of triumphant scorn, he shook his strong chain-bridle. Provoked by his insolent non-chalance, I dealt a backward blow with such force and dexterity that he began to press me in turn; and with skill that I had some trouble in meeting. His charger was so well trained, that he was aided in every stroke and thrust by its movements; while Cartouche, startled by the clash of the sabres, began to snort and rear. The restless spirit of the fiery English blood-horse was roused, and a shell thrown by a French field howitzer exploding close by, completed his terror and my discomfiture: Cartouche plunged so fearfully that my sabre fell from my grasp, and I nearly lost my seat while endeavouring, by curb and caress, to reduce him to subjection. I was thus quite at the mercy of the Frenchman; who, generously disdaining to take the advantage that my restive horse gave him, merely said, "Gardez, monsieur!" and bowing, lowered the point of his sabre in salute and galloped away, greeted by a hearty cheer from the 20th and Ackland's brigade.
An hour's hard riding brought me to the skirts of the great forest; so famous as the haunt of wolves and brigands, that I did not feel perfectly at ease in its vicinity, and kept on the alert as I proceeded. On one side stretched away into obscurity the level shore, bordered by the sea; which rolled its sullen waves on the yellow sand, or dashed them in glittering foam against the jutting rocks: on the other, arose the rustling oaks and beeches of the lofty forest, the long dark vistas and gloomy recesses of which the sun had never penetrated. From the wooded heights I expected every moment to issue the red flash of a rifle, or the glancing weapons and tall conical hats of Francatripa's horde; but I trusted that my character as an Italian ally, would gain me some favour with those desperadoes—whose ferocity, strange to say, was often mingled with the highest spirit of patriotism and chivalry.
A dense cloud obscured the radiant moon, casting a long dark shadow over sea and land, and I missed the beaten track which supplied the place of a road. Presently, Cartouche sank to the girths in a plantation of rice, where he snorted and plunged furiously. By using bridle and spur with the utmost caution, I extricated him; but he sank again and again, and I had fears of losing my noble grey altogether. A rice field is little better than a marsh, full of water and holes. I toiled on for half an hour, holding his bridle and endeavouring to regain the lost road; but every instant we plunged deeper into bogs and pools of stagnant water. At last I regained terra firma, close to the forest: but was exhausted with over-exertion and want of sleep. Then the warnings of Bianca were remembered, and I regretted not having remained all night at the villa.
On the verge of the forest, and close to the preceptory house of Castelermo—a ruin overgrown with vine and ivy, and now brilliantly illuminated by the moon, which broke forth with double splendour—I came suddenly upon a large blazing fire, that lit up the dark arcades of the wood, and hissed as the dew was shaken from the waving branches on the flames. Around it moved a group of people, whom at first I supposed to be brigands, but on nearer approach I found they were Zingari—a class half gipsies half robbers; of unknown origin, and speaking Italian, but with an accent peculiar to themselves. Like all the scattered remnants of this mysterious tribe in other countries, the Zingari wander over the face of the land without possessing any property save the chattels borne in the panniers of their mules and asses. These vagrants are chiefly employed in working on metals, which they manufacture into rude stilettos, buckles, and bodkins; though they live principally by their wits, and the nimbleness of their fingers.
On my approach, the male portion of the community snatched up their knives and poles; and a skirmish might have ensued, had not an old man, who appeared to be their capo, or chief, quieted their clamour, and stepped forward to receive me. The gang consisted of twelve men and the same number of women; all of them clad in a gaudy, though miserable manner.
The old Zingaro had a beard like that of a patriarch, and the thick masses of his grizzled hair were confined in a netted bag—the only covering his head perhaps had ever known. His red cotton breeches and deer-skin jacket were worn to tatters, and his brawny brown legs were bare below the knee, his feet being encased in sandals, laced with straps above the ankle; a broad belt encircled his waist, and sustained a knife, a flask, a pouch, and a mandolin, which, with a staff or ashen pole, six feet long, completed his equipment. The younger vagabonds were all attired much in the same manner; their dark glancing eyes, naked limbs and shoulders, wild tangled hair, and wolf-skin garments, giving them, a very savage or satyr-like aspect.
Believing there was no cause to fear these people, and being willing to rest and gratify my curiosity, I dismounted, and returned ceremoniously the greeting of the venerable capo.
"Cross her hand with a ducat of gold, that Zilla may read your fortune, signor gentiluomo!" said a young girl, dancing round me, and snapping her castanets, while a gipsy struck a few notes on a rude guitar, and chanted the Zingaresca. "Touch my hand with gold, and if your love will be successful, I will read it in the stars."
"I would rather have it read from your own bright eyes, my pretty donzella," said I, with a gallant air. This made the eyes of the young rogue with the guitar flash fire; and on my attempting to take the hand of the girl, she tripped away from me with a demure air of rustic coquetry which made her look prettier still. Though not tall, she was finely formed: the contour of her head and profile was of classic beauty. Her eyes were darker than any I had ever looked on, and at times they became lustrous with lambent light; and her teeth, white and regular, were unsurpassed in brilliancy even by those of Bianca. But her face, her arms, and legs—the latter partially displayed by a scanty petticoat—were burned by the sun to a hue considerably darker than the natural olive tint of her race. Her hair was so black, that it seemed of a blue tint, where the light struck upon it, and its luxuriant masses were confined by a golden arrow, with an unexpanded bulb; announcing that she was a maiden spotless and free: the barb being the sign of betrothal or marriage.
"Gentil signor, for a crown, I will write you a spell that will make all the women love you."
"Benissimo, my girl!" said I, "if only one woman loves me truly"——
"Or seek you a love potion? or a charm against French bullets?" said a hideous hag, with fierce black eyes, a shrivelled skin, and the aspect of a Hecate.
"Bah!" growled the old Zingaro; "away with you, Zilla—and you, too, good mother! The cavaliere has not come among us to have charms made, or fortunes read; but for a trusty guide, who for a handful of carlini will conduct him through any part of the woods between seas."
"Right, master Zingaro!—a guide is just what I am in search of, to direct me on the Crotona road: at least, so far as we may go until dawn; when I may see to avoid these cursed rice-fields and quagmires, through which it is no joke to ride in the dark."
"True, signor: you have had a very narrow escape. I remember that in the wet season, when these marshes become lakes, three of Regnier's dragoons, while escorting the famous crook-back, Gaspare Truffi, to the gallows at Monteleone, were cajoled by his oily tongue, and led among the rice-fields yonder, as the shortest way. Via! 't was the longest road they ever marched—for they are on it yet. Gaspare escaped; but the troopers and their horses sunk for ever in the shifting morass. You may thank those blessed stars that shone so kindly on you: you had perished but for them. Seat yourself on the turf, signor: the Zingari feast when other men sleep; and if you will condescend to partake of our meal"——I bowed assent, and seated myself beside his daughter.
It would have been wiser to have ridden on my way, with or without a guide, rather than have trusted myself in such quarters and company; but the aspect of the whole group was so strikingly romantic, that I was tempted to linger. The red flames of the fire cast fitful and lurid gleams of light on the dark countenances and wild garments of the wanderers, shedding a fiery glow on the rich green foliage of the gigantic oaks and elms, whose gnarled trunks were interlaced with ivy, vine, and olive. No wind poured through the long, still vistas of the forest; whose gloomy recesses were spangled with myriads of fire-flies, flitting like flames of fairy tapers. A mountain torrent was falling near us; and the roaring hiss of the cascade seemed alone to stir the dewy leaves of the umbrageous foliage. The large eyes of the Zingari were glinting in the light, as they stared fixedly on the red embers, or watched the motions of the aged crone who superintended the cooking. The meal—whether late supper or early breakfast, I know not—consisted of sundry portions of roebuck and wild pig, which were broiling and sputtering merrily on the glowing bars of an immense gridiron. To these savoury viands were added cakes of flour, a jar of boiled rice, and a pitcher of the wine of the country. Close by me stood Cartouche, reined up to the lower branch of an oak; his large and prominent eyes glaring in the light of the fire, and his broad, red nostrils quivering as the smoke curled around them.
This was one of those picturesque scenes of service, which are rendered so pleasant by the very contrast they present to others. Two hours before I had been seated in a superb boudoir, beside Bianca and her friend; now I lounged on the grass among unshaven thieves and vagrants, who regarded my rich uniform and well-trimmed mustachios with eyes of ill-concealed admiration and wonder.
During this midnight revel, the old capo represented the roads about the forest, as being so dangerous, that I resolved to abide with his band until dawn, when he promised to send a guide with me so far as I wished.