Atlantic Monthly, Vol. 5, No. 27, January, 1860 by Various

V >> Various >> Atlantic Monthly, Vol. 5, No. 27, January, 1860

Pages:
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20

Whilst our detached company was standing there, with the foot drawn up
in the road a little way before us, a single horseman came out from the
enemy and galloped past our picket, stationed up the road some distance
ahead of the detachment. The picket fired upon him after he had passed;
he dropped under his horse's side, and galloped back, apparently
unharmed; but, from the direction of their fire, the picket was
naturally mistaken for the enemy by the detachment in front, who could
see only the flashes through the darkness. Some stood their ground, and
returned the fire, placing the picket in great danger; but the bulk,
already well scared by their repulse, broke away panic-stricken, and
came rushing down the road toward us, thinking the enemy were charging
behind them. Our company was suddenly overwhelmed, or borne along by the
current, ignorant of the cause of alarm. I brought myself up behind the
corner house, where many of the others were taking shelter. But hearing
some one cry out, "To the church! to the church! make a stand in the
church!" I immediately ran across the road and entered the church by a
side-door. As I crossed the entrance, with two or three others,
General Walker came running up from the interior, with his sword out,
crying,--"Where's that man came into the church? Show me that man!"
There were cocked revolvers with some of us, and it was, perhaps, well
for General Walker that the crowd now pouring in strongly at both front
and side doors diverted him. Turning to these, he threw himself first on
one, then on another, battered, tugged, and thrust them out at the door
with such force as I hardly thought was in him. He was soon assisted
by Sanders, Waters, and other officers, and, with the curses and
vociferations of these men, the confused rush of the panic-stricken
crowd in the dark, and the outcries of the wounded, who lay about
on the floor, as the fugitives trampled over them, there was such a
pressure as might unchart a young soldier, and strand him among his
fears.

After seeing enough of it, I ran out again into the street, sore
bestead, indeed, to know what I should do. Day was beginning to break,
and in the gray dawn I saw the men ejected from the church running
hither and thither, trying to rejoin their officers. And, there being
neither standards nor drums to collect by, the sergeants stood at divers
points shouting at the top of their voices the number and letter
of their companies, and calling the fugitives to come into ranks.
Minie-balls whizzed about in the air or knocked up the dust from
the street, and firing was now and then heard near by in uncertain
directions, where perhaps the enemy were vexing our pickets. I believe
it had been a helter-skelter day for us all, had the enemy got in then
and attacked us in the midst of this confusion. They might surely have
driven us into irretrievable rout, flying on the road to Rivas, by a
spirited charge of fifty good men, or much less.

Whilst I stood in doubt what course to take, I saw our captain, followed
by three or four of the company, looking over the ground for the
missing, and I forthwith made up and joined him. Others came in, one by
one; and at length, the foot being gathered together in the _adobes_,
and things brought to order outside, the captain led his company into
the church. General Walker was still there, talking earnestly with
Sanders and Waters, having cleared the church of the fugitives. As we
approached, he asked the captain, who by this time had emptied his
canteen of _aguardiente_, how many of his men were killed. The captain
began cursing the foot, and telling how he had been run over, having
tried to stand,--and would have made a long talc, but Colonel Waters
touched him on the shoulder, and said in undertone,--"Lead your company
off. You are too drunk to talk now."

Our post thenceforward was at the several doors of the church, where we
kept guard for the wounded, who lay about the floor in miserable plight
for lack of water. Outside, drop-shooting was still kept up by the enemy
in the bushes, and returned by ours from the doors.

It was an ill-looking situation for our small, panic-shaken party,
resting here within pistol-shot of an overwhelming and victorious enemy.
The enemy's respect for us was too great and unreasonable. It behooved
them certainly, as honest soldiers, to come forth now and drive us out
of their town, in which, I think, if well commenced, there had been but
little difficulty. Afterwards, indeed, when I was amongst them in Costa
Rica, they declared concerning this affair that they knew we were in
their power then, but refrained because they were unwilling to shed more
filibuster blood, preferring rather to conquer us by proclamation, and
send us back to our homes unhurt,--more expensive, to be sure, but
recommended by humanity. Yet I laugh at this when I remember how they
crept snake-like in the bushes, and tried to pick us off at the doors,
and how they strove, without much danger to themselves, to run our
pickets in on us, and get to see our backs turned, whereupon, doubtless,
humanity would have been little thought of, and filibuster blood cheap
enough. Indeed, once that morning, with little less than four-score
horse, they came charging with hope to pass a picket of ten men; but
saddles being emptied, they recoiled, and their leader being slain,
whilst attempting to rally them, they fled contemptibly,--seven or eight
from one. However, this is only my revenge for much exasperation and
deploration that they would never come away from their pestiferous
walls,--where, after all, they had a right to stay, and will not be
blamed by the candid and unbebullet-whizzed reader that they did stay.

We kept our post at the doors, annoyed and apprehensive, until the sun
was an hour or so high, when a party of rangers arrived from Rivas
with led horses to transport the wounded,--which incumbrance it was, I
suppose, that prevented our withdrawal earlier. The wounded were carried
out and mounted, some with a soldier behind to support them. Colonel
O'Neal, however, who had both legs broken, was carried on a litter, with
a cocked revolver on each side of him; for, though he had lost much
blood, there was yet spirit in him, and he wanted revenge for these
death-wounds. The pickets were now all brought in hastily, and the
detachment began its march, leaving, I remember, one stark form propped
against the church wall, with staring eyeballs fixed, and soul wandered
somewhither. This, from his clean looks, had been one of the fresh
California recruits, who, indeed, had found miserable entertainment on
their arrival in Nicaragua, land of oranges and sunshine,--being first
and longest this night at the barricade, and leaving many of their
number there.

A little way from the church we crossed a road running into San Jorge,
and, looking up, saw a high log-barricade, some fifty rods off, with
embrasures and black-mouthed cannon frowning down on us. Why we were not
fired upon I know not, unless on that same score of humanity, or because
the enemy had abandoned it during last night's assault. Farther on,
whilst passing through a plantain-patch, we saw the greasers some
way off in our rear, watching us, running to and fro, and seemingly
exercised with preparation for attacking. However, we passed out into
the road, and went on undisturbed, yet still with the enemy hovering
behind us.

Coming to a place where an abrupt little mound rose at a fork in the
road, our company, which brought up the rear of the detachment, had
orders to conceal itself behind this, and await the pursuers, and give
them check. In a moment they came galloping up the slope of a hill some
two or three hundred yards back, their heads only appearing at first,
then the rest down to the saddle, when we arose suddenly and gave them a
volley of rifle-bullets. They dropped down quickly, either to the ground
or under their horses' bellies, in which manoeuvre some of them rival
the prairie Indians. Others coming up from behind, we gave them more,
until they all disappeared finally. After this we saw no more of them,
and arrived at Rivas without further alarm.

This was now the third repulse we had sustained within a few days, with
an aggregate loss, perhaps, counting wounded, (who, as I have said, were
more regretted than the dead,) not very far under two hundred men,--and
it became apparent that the filibuster day was over, unless General
Walker could find some stratagem in his head, or some better mode of
fighting than this confident rushing upon an overwhelming enemy, under
strong cover, and grown bold with success. The prospect, truly, began
to look black enough. The men had lost confidence in themselves and in
their officers, no longer despised the enemy, and dreaded the barricades
at San Jorge so deeply that they would be led against them no more.
Those who intended to desert avoided every exposure to danger, and
feigned sickness whenever detailed for service. One of the rifle
regiments had grown mutinous, upon some quarrel with its officers, and
refused to do duty of any kind, and it was absurd to attempt to compel
it by aid of the others. The natives, who had charge of the beef cattle,
turned them all out of the _corral_, and ran away in the night, leaving
the army without meat, and the commissary force, some forty horsemen,
to seek for prey wherever it was to be found. And then there were ill
reports heard about the party on the Rio San Juan, and its success began
to be doubted. But worse than all was the fast-spreading spirit of
desertion, which all saw would prove ruinous of itself, unless shortly
stopped in some way.

At this juncture it might have been worth while for General Walker to
form a corps for one attack of all the men in his army who felt an
earnest interest in driving the enemy out, and were willing to fight
desperately for the sake of it. There were scores of stout men acting
as lieutenants, captains, majors, etc., of slight performance in those
capacities, but who, had they been formed into companies, and asked to
fight now one night, at this desperate juncture, for the _haciendas_
General Walker had promised them, would have done willing, perhaps, and
excellent service. To these might be added all those among the ranks
to whom, from any cause, desertion or expulsion from Nicaragua was
disagreeable,--those who distrusted the Costa-Rican promises, or feared
disgrace at home, or had sick or wounded friends at Rivas, or were
desperate, broken men without other home, or with what other peculiar
motives there might be. With this force gathered to themselves by call
for volunteers, allowed to choose their own officers, furnished with
Colt's revolvers, or bayonets, or both, and led in advance, as a forlorn
hope, with ladders to scale the barricades by,--it is likely the enemy
might have been driven out, and the cause of Regeneration set up once
more. So, at least, it was thought by some. And, indeed, it must have
been extremely discouraging for one of better will to be fearful at
every step that his comrades would dart aside into the bushes and leave
him unsupported; it must have served to cripple the efforts of all the
well-intentioned in the army, and should have been remedied. However,
no call for volunteers was ventured by General Walker,--he, probably,
thinking it too unreasonable to ask his men to do anything for him
unforced.

There were some others who thought affairs might be retrieved, if
General Walker were displaced, at least from his military command,
and Henningsen, or some other, put in his stead. He was exceedingly
unpopular, hated, indeed, by a great many, (I have known more than one
who professed to nourish the intent of shooting him during his next
battle, when the deed could be covered,) was respected only for his
strong will and personal bravery, and had never been superseded, solely,
perhaps, because the great majority of his men were either without
energy, or were careless about everything but escape, and so felt no
interest in dethroning him and setting up another, when thereby they
were not helping their chance of getting out of the Isthmus. However,
there was now a conspiracy commenced by some who were unwilling to leave
Nicaragua, and who distrusted General Walker's ability to save the
filibusters much longer.

But these underworkers had made us no sign up to the night attack on
San Jorge, and the day succeeding that the writer lost sight of the
filibuster camp, and knew what took place in it no more. I will tell how
the withdrawal was brought about, and then extinguish my story. Near the
middle of the day, after returning from San Jorge, the company rode out,
under command of the sergeant, to gather forage for the animals. In
order to give my own mule a respite, I mounted for this occasion a
bad-winded animal, long before used up, and discarded by one of the
company, and left to run about the yard. As we rode out at the gateway,
one of the men advised me with some pointedness to go back and get my
own animal, assuring me the one I had would fail me on this expedition.
Yet, knowing he was good for the distance we usually rode foraging, I
paid him no heed, and thought nothing of his somewhat singular manner
until afterwards. When we had gone some distance, the same man asked me
if I had heard that forty deserters had left last night for Costa Rica,
adding, that it was his opinion the whole army would soon be on the same
road. "Well," said I, "I suppose we'll be among the last." "I don't
think I will," rejoined he, "nor the rest of this company." He said no
more; but it flashed upon me then that we were even now on the road for
Costa Rica; and it soon became certainty, as the sergeant turned down
toward the Transit road, a direction in which we had never been
allowed to forage, probably because the natives on that side had more
communication with San Juan and Virgin Bay, and General Walker was
unwilling that the States passengers should hear too many complaints
from them. I was before aware that many of the company had been for some
time revolving desertion, and had myself been sounded by one a day or
two previously; but could have had no suspicion that this was to be the
occasion, because several of the most forward in the matter had made
excuses, and remained behind in quarters.

At length we halted in a little stream, some miles from Rivas, to water
our animals, and it was here openly announced that the party was on its
way to Costa Rica to take the benefit of the government proclamation. I
rode back toward the rear, where I saw a dispute going on between one of
the company who wanted to return to Rivas and others who insisted that
he must go forward. One of them met me in the path, and told me I must
go with them until they had got beyond the Transit road. They had no
wish, he said, to force men to desert; but this much was needed to save
themselves from danger of pursuit. I told him my mule would never carry
me back from the Transit road. "We will catch you another," said he,
"when we reach the Jocote _rancho_." The whole crowd, save two or three,
were with him, and it was useless to persist. So I turned and rode
forward with the rest.

At the Jocote _rancho_ we succeeded in catching a mule, but he was given
to another of the company, whose animal showed worse signs than my own,
which, indeed, had borne me much better than I expected, and was not yet
seriously fatigued.

We came out upon the Transit road, passed over the Cordillera ridges,
and, just beyond the little river which crosses the road, two miles from
San Juan, turned aside into a forest-trail leading down the coast to
Costa Rica. Those of us who had been pressed thus far, after crossing
the Transit road, gave over all design of returning. The bonds which
drew us back were not strong, and the danger of return was considerable.
We had heard that the enemy was at Virgin Bay, and that their lancers
frequently passed backward and forward on the Transit road, and between
San Jorge and Virgin Bay. If we returned, we should be confined to the
path nearly all the way to Rivas by the impenetrable forest, and easily
taken, should we meet the enemy, or liable even, one or two only, to be
shot down from ambush by the hostile natives who lived on the route.

For my own part, I decided to go on with hesitation and regret, and I
believe, had one been ready to return, I should have borne him willing
company. I preferred even the hard service and dubious chance of General
Walker to the alternative of going amongst the Costa-Ricans, where
a cowardly populace would probably kick and spit upon us as dirty
filibusters and deserters; and should their government even keep its
promises, I had no stomach for being set ashore in the city of New York,
without money in my pocket, or home that I wished to go to. My health
had been good in Nicaragua, and, I believed, would remain good. The
motive which sent me there was still in force; and, withal, I wished to
see the filibuster game played out,--with Henningsen, or some other man
than General Walker, as military director. I believed it might even
take a turn so, and a _sans-culotte_ man be furnished at last with a
two-hundred-and-fifty-acre home in Nicaragua,--

"'Mid sandal bowers and groves of spice,
Might be a Peri's paradise";

and plantain food without sweat, and the elixir of joy called
_aguardiente!_ Nevertheless it was all left behind; and Samuel Absalom
tore the large, dirty canvas letters M.R., signifying Mounted Ranger,
off from his blue flannel shirt-breast; and his experience as filibuster
in Nicaragua closed,--somewhat ingloriously.

* * * * *

ROBA DI ROMA.

[Continued.]

CHAPTER V.

CHRISTMAS HOLIDAYS.

The Christmas Holidays have come, and with them various customs and
celebrations quite peculiar to Rome. They are ushered in by the festive
clang of a thousand bells from all the belfries in Rome at Ave Maria of
the evening before the august day. At about nine o'clock of the same
evening the Pope performs High Mass in some one of the great churches,
generally at Santa Maria Maggiore, when all the pillars of this fine old
basilica are draped with red hangings, and scores of candles burn in the
side chapels, and the great altar blazes with light. The fuguing chants
of the Papal choir sound into the dome and down the aisles, while the
Holy Father ministers at the altar, and a motley crowd parade and jostle
and saunter through the church. Here, mingled together, may be seen
soldiers of the Swiss guard, with their shining helmets, long halberds,
and party-colored uniforms, designed by Michel Angelo,--chamberlains of
the Pope, all in black, with their high ruffs, Spanish cloaks, silken
stockings, and golden chains,--_contadini_ from the mountains, in their
dully brilliant costumes and white _tovaglie_,--common laborers from the
Campagna, with their black mops of tangled hair,--_forestieri_ of
every nation,--Englishmen, with long, light, pendant whiskers, and an
eye-glass stuck in one eye,--Germans, with spectacles, frogged coats,
and long, straight hair put behind their ears and cut square in the
neck,--then Americans, in high-heeled patent-leather boots, a black
dress-coat, and a black satin waistcoat,--and wasp-waisted French
officers, with baggy trousers, a goat-beard, and a pretentious swagger.
Nearer the altar are crowded together in pens a mass of women in black
dresses and black veils, who are determined to see and hear all,
treating the ceremony purely as a spectacle, and not as a religious
rite. Meantime the music soars, the organ groans, the censer clicks,
steams of incense float to and fro. The Pope and his attendants kneel
and rise,--he lifts the Host, and the world prostrates itself. A great
procession of dignitaries with torches bears a fragment of the original
cradle of the Holy Bambino from its chapel to the high altar, through
the swaying crowd that gape and gaze and stare and sneer and adore. And
thus the evening passes. When the clock strikes midnight all the bells
ring merrily, Mass commences at the principal churches, and at San Luigi
dei Francesi and the Gesu there is a great illumination (what the French
call _un joli spectacle_) and very good music. Thus Christmas is ushered
in at Rome.

The next day is a great _festa_. All classes are dressed in their best
and go to Mass,--and when that is over, they throng the streets to chat
and lounge and laugh and look at each other. The Corso is so crowded in
the morning, that a carriage can scarcely pass. Everywhere one hears the
pleasant greeting of "_Buona Festa,_" "_Buona Pasqua_." All the _basso
popolo_, too, are out,--the women wearing their best jewelry, heavy
gold ear-rings, three-rowed _collane_ of well-worn coral and gold, long
silver and gold pins and arrows in their hair, and great worked brooches
with pendants,--and the men of the Trastevere in their peaked hats,
their short jackets swung over one shoulder in humble imitation of the
Spanish cloak, and with rich scarfs tied round their waists. Most of
the ordinary cries of the day are missed. But the constant song of
"_Arancie! arancie dolci_!" is heard in the crowd; and everywhere
are the _sigarari_, carrying round their wooden tray of tobacco, and
shouting, "_Sigari! sigari dolci! sigari scelti_!" at the top of their
lungs; the _nocellaro_ also cries sadly about his dry chestnuts and
pumpkin-seeds. The shops are all closed, and the shopkeepers and clerks
saunter up and down the streets, dressed better than the same class
anywhere else in the world,--looking spick-and-span, as if they had just
come out of a bandbox, and nearly all of them carrying a little cane.
One cannot but be struck by the difference in this respect between the
Romans on a _festa_-day in the Corso and the Parisians during _fete_ in
the Champs Elysees,--the former are so much better dressed, and so much
happier, gayer, and handsomer.

During the morning, the Pope celebrates High Mass at San Pietro, and
thousands of spectators are there,--some from curiosity, some from
piety. Few, however, of the Roman families go there to-day;--they perform
their religious services in their private chapel or in some minor
church; for the crowd of _forestieri_ spoils St. Peter's for prayer.[A]
At the elevation of the Host, the guards, who line the nave, drop to
their knees, their side-arms ringing on the pavement,--the vast crowd
bends,--and a swell of trumpets sounds through the dome. Nothing can be
more impressive than this moment in St. Peter's. Then the choir from its
gilt cage resumes its chant, the high falsetti of the soprani soaring
over the rest, and interrupted now and then by the clear musical voice
of the Pope,--until at last he is borne aloft in his Papal chair on the
shoulders of his attendants, crowned with the triple crown, between
the high, white, waving fans; all the cardinals, monsignori, canonici,
officials, priests, and guards going before him in splendid procession.
The Pope shuts his eyes, from giddiness and from fasting,--for he has
eaten nothing for twenty-four hours, and the swaying motion of the chair
makes him dizzy and sick. But he waves at intervals his three fingers to
bless the crowd that kneel or bend before him, and then goes home to the
Vatican to dine with a clean conscience and a good appetite.

[Footnote A: "How," says Marforio to Pasquino, "shall I, being a true
son of the Holy Church, obtain admittance to her services?" To which
Pasquino returns for answer: "Declare that you are an Englishman, and
swear that you are a heretic."]

It is the universal rule among priests to fast before saying Mass, and
never to take the wafer or body of Christ upon a full stomach. The
law is _de rigueur_, and is almost never broken. But sometimes the
temptation of the appetite, it may be supposed, will overcome even a
pious man; for priest though one be, one is also flesh-and-blood. An
anecdote lately told me by the Conte Cignale (dei Selvaggi) may not
be out of place in this connection, and I instance it as an undoubted
exception to the general rule. A friend of his, an English artist,
enamored of Italian life, was spending the summer in one of the mountain
towns. Finding little society there except the physician and the parish
priest, he soon became on intimate terms with them. One morning the
priest called on him before he had finished breakfast. A savory dish was
smoking on the table, and the fumes of the hot coffee filled the room.
"I wish you could take breakfast with me," said he; "but I know you are
to say Mass, and that it would be contrary to rule for you to eat
until it is performed." The priest shrugged his shoulders and looked
deprecatorily at the artist and at the breakfast. "Still," continued the
latter, "if your scruples would allow you, I should be delighted if you
would help me with this capital dish." The temptation was great; the
smell was savory. The priest made a strong internal defence, but the
garrison was forced at last to capitulate. _"Eh!"_ said he, as he took
his seat, _"in fatto e il costume generale di non mangiare prima di dire
la messa e di prendere l'ostia. Ma--in queste circostanze_,"--here
he looked to see that the door was well fastened,--_"mi pare che si
potrebbe far un letto per nostro Signore, Gesu Cristo."_

Pages:
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20