The Mirror of Literature, Amusement, and Instruction, No. 335 by Various
V >>
Various >> The Mirror of Literature, Amusement, and Instruction, No. 335
Early in 1821, lieutenant-colonel Miller abandoned Pasco, and re-embarked
for the fort of Arica; and after a hair-breadth escape, landed ten leagues
north of that point. The colonel now advanced with his little army of 400
men into the country, where he routed the royalist troops, and in a
fortnight killed or captured more than 600 Spaniards. In 1822, he was
promoted to the rank of colonel, and the civil and military government of
an extensive district in Peru; in which year also he was engaged in
several important battles. In the beginning of 1823, with only a company
of _cacadores_, he harassed the royalists for several months; and so
alarmed the enemy by the rapidity of his movements, that he often passed
the hostile division, of a thousand men, without their daring to attack
him. Of the country in which these operations were carried on, the general
gives a frightful picture.
In 1823, colonel Miller, was promoted to the rank of general of brigade,
and in the same year he became chief of the staff of the Peruvian army. In
1824, he was introduced to _Bolivar_. On the 13th of June he crossed
the Andes to take the command of 1,500 montoneros (a body of men very
similar to the Guerillas of Spain,) who occupied the country round Pasco.
The difficulties of this service, and the perils of a campaign in the
Andes, may be well inferred from the following passages:--
It often occurred during the campaign of 1824, that the cavalry being in
the rear, were, by a succession of various obstructions, prevented from
accomplishing the day's march before nightfall. It then became necessary
for every man to dismount, and to lead the two animals in his charge, to
avoid going astray, or tumbling headlong down the most frightful
precipices. But the utmost precaution did not always prevent the corps
from losing their way. Sometimes men, at the head of a battalion, would
continue to follow the windings of a deafening torrent, instead of turning
abruptly to the right or left, up some rocky acclivity, over which lay
their proper course; whilst others who chanced to be right, would pursue
the proper track. The line was so drawn out, that there were unavoidably
many intervals, and it was easy for such mistakes to occur, although
trumpeters were placed at regular distances expressly to prevent
separation. One party was frequently heard hallowing from an apparently
fathomless ravine, to their comrades passing over some high projecting
summit, to know if they were going right. These would answer with their
trumpets; but it often occurred that both parties had lost their road. The
frequent sound of trumpets along the broken line--the shouting of officers
to their men at a distance--the neighing of horses, and the braying of
mules, both men and animals being alike anxious to reach a place of rest,
produced a strange and fearful concert, echoed, in the darkness of the
night, from the horrid solitude of the Andes. After many fruitless
attempts to discover the proper route, a halt until daybreak was usually
the last resource. The sufferings of the men and animals on those
occasions were extreme. The thermometer was generally below the freezing
point, amidst which they were sometimes overtaken by terrific snow-storms.
These difficulties and hardships were not so severely felt by the
infantry, for, unincumbered with the charge of horses, it was an easy
matter for them to turn back, whereas it was often impossible for the
cavalry to do so, the path on the mountain-side being generally too narrow
to admit of horses turning round. It happened more than once, that the
squadron in front, having ascertained that it had taken a wrong direction,
was nevertheless compelled to advance until it reached some open spot,
where the men were enabled to assemble, and wait for the hindmost of their
comrades, and then retrace their steps. After having pursued this plan,
the troops have met another squadron following the same track; and, under
such circumstances, it has required hours for either to effect a
countermarch. In this complicated operation many an animal was hurled down
the precipice and dashed to pieces, nor did their riders always escape a
similar fate.
In the mountainous regions of the interior, nature presents difficulties
which, though of a different description, are equally as appalling as
those experienced on the coast. The sheds erected at _pascanas_ (or
halting places) in the vast unpeopled tracts of the bleak mountain
districts, and on the table lands, were inadequate to afford shelter to
more than a small number, so that the greater part of the troops were
obliged to bivouac sometimes in places where the thermometer falls
_every night_ considerably below the freezing point, and this
_throughout the year_; whereas it often rises at noon, in the same
place, to 90 degrees. It may be readily imagined what must have been the
sufferings of men, born in, or accustomed to, the sultry temperature of
Truxillo, Guayaquil, Panama, or Cartagena. The difficulty of respiration,
called in some places _la puna_, and in others _el siroche_,
experienced in those parts of the Andes which most abound in metals, was
so great at times, that, whilst on the march, whole battalions would sink
down, as if by magic, and it would have been inflicting death to have
attempted to oblige them to proceed until they had rested and recovered
themselves. In many cases life was solely preserved by opening the
temporal artery. This sudden difficulty of respiration is supposed to be
caused by occasional exhalations of metalliferous vapour, which, being
inhaled into the lungs, causes a strong feeling of suffocation.
During certain months of the year, tremendous hail-storms occur. They have
fallen with such violence that the army has been obliged to halt, and the
men being compelled to hold up their knapsacks to protect their faces,
have had their hands so severely bruised and cut by large hail-stones as
to bleed copiously.
Thunder-storms are also particularly severe in the elevated regions. The
electric fluid is seen to fall around, in a manner unknown in other parts
of the world, and frequently causes loss of life. Such storms have often
burst at some distance below their feet, as the army climbed the lofty
ridges of the Andes.
The distressing fatigues of the most difficult marches in Europe cannot
perhaps be compared to those which the patriot soldiers underwent in the
campaign of 1824. From Caxamarca (memorable for the seizure and death of
Atuhualpa) to Cuzco, the whole line of the road (with the exception of the
plain between Pasco and the vicinity of Tarma, twenty leagues in extent,
and the valley of Xauxa) presents a continuation of rugged and fatiguing
ascents and declivities. That these difficulties do not diminish between
Cuzco and Potosi may be inferred from the following fact:--
When general Cordova's division marched from Cuzco to Puno, it halted at
Santa Rosa. During the night there was a heavy fall of snow. They
continued their march the next morning. The effects of the rays of the sun
reflected from the snow upon the eyes, produces a disease, which the
Peruvians call _surumpi_. It occasions blindness, accompanied by
excruciating pains. A pimple forms in the eye-ball, and causes an itching,
pricking pain, as though needles were continually piercing it. The
temporary loss of sight is occasioned by the impossibility of opening the
eye-lids for a single moment, the smallest ray of light being absolutely
insupportable. The only relief is a poultice of snow, but as that melts
away the tortures return. With the exception of twenty men and the guides,
who knew how to guard against the calamity, the whole division were struck
blind three leagues distant from the nearest human habitation. The guides
galloped on to a village in advance, and brought out a hundred Indians to
assist in leading the men. Many of the sufferers, maddened by pain, had
strayed away from the column, and perished before the return of the
guides, who, together with the Indians, took charge of long files of the
poor sightless soldiers, clinging to each other with agonized and
desperate grasp. During their dreary march by a rugged mountain path,
several fell down precipices, and were never heard of more. General Miller
suffered only fifteen hours from the _surumpi_, but the complaint
usually continues two days. Out of three thousand men, General Cordova
lost above a hundred. The regiment most affected was the _voltigeros_
(formerly Numancia), which had marched by land from Caracas, a distance of
upwards of two thousand leagues.
General Miller's share in the triumph of Junin was witnessed by Bolivar,
in August, 1824; and at the victory of Ayacucho, which terminated the war
in Peru, general Miller was foremost in the thickest of the fight.
We are now drawing near to the close of our outline of the general's
brilliant career. At the conclusion of the war in 1825, he was appointed
prefect of the department of Potosi, with a population of 300,000 souls.
He was going on prosperously in his labours of peace, in improving the
condition of the natives, who had for three centuries been writhing under
the most infamous oppression, when his health required that he should
visit Europe. In October, 1825, he resigned his honourable office, and
obtained leave of absence to return to his native country, bringing with
him an unsolicited testimonial from Bolivar, of his heroism in the
campaign of 1824. General Miller is now in England, and in circles where
his merit is known, he is received with the highest respect.
In our hasty sketch, we have glanced at only a few of the difficulties
with which General Miller was beset in his several enterprises in the
cause of South American independence. His career, though extending but to
seven years, is one of unparalleled interest, as well to the general
reader, as to the more calculating observer of the rise and progress of
infant liberty. His exploits have none of the daring or bravado of mere
adventures, but they are examples of sterling courage which have few
parallels in the annals of modern warfare. On his quitting Potosi for
England, it is mentioned that he was overwhelmed with testimonials of
popular affection. _We_ live in too advanced a state of refinement to
appreciate the ecstasy which his labours in the great and glorious cause
must have inspired among the native population of the scene of these
exploits; but as a fellow-countryman, we have reason to be proud of his
name, and of the high rank it will hereafter occupy in the records of
human character. He has laid the foundation of the happiness of thousands,
and sincerely do we wish that he may yet live many years to witness the
successful progress of the cause to which he has so gloriously
contributed.
We recommend such of our readers as take interest in genuine records of
glowing patriotism, to turn to general Miller's "Memoirs"--for such
volumes of exhaustless variety and importance are seldom met with in these
days of flimsy literature.
* * * * *
THE ANECDOTE GALLERY.
* * * * *
LORD BYRON'S INTERVIEW WITH A MONK.
[For the following graphic sketch, acknowledgment is due to the
last No. (5) of the _Foreign Quarterly Review_, where it is
stated to be copied from Pouqueville's Travels in Greece. There is
too much romance in it for out sober belief, and for the credit of
Pouqueville--who by his statements has misled thousands--we ought
to state that he gives it as the production of another pen.
However, a marvellous story never loses by travelling; but--
Vires acquirit eundo.
Of course, it is easy enough for any enthusiast to put such words
as the following into the mouth of a man who has been reviled and
attacked by thousands; but we hope, for the credit of the reading
world, that such stories as the following, seldom find implicit
credence. There may, however, be some foundation for the following
_romaunt_, and probably the incident, however slight, was too
tempting to be sent forth to the world unadorned. If Lord Byron
ever uttered such words as are here attributed to him--"_I am
still an Atheist_"--it must have been in a fit of the most
malignant obstinacy that ever distorted and disgraced the human
mind--or perhaps in that spirit of malicious banter with which he
was accustomed to torment his best and nearest friends. That such
was his _genuine sentiment_, we can never bring ourselves to
believe; and whatever standing is possessed by us in the world,
should willingly be staked upon this point. As a romance of the
pen, and not as a pure narrative of facts, we trust the following
will be received; for, as such alone is it presented to our
readers.]
Lord Byron during his stay at Athens, lodged at the Capuchin Convent. The
Reverend Father Paul had found favour in the sight of this surprising
genius;--his age, his profession, his gentleness, had gained him the
affection of that nobleman in such a manner, that he devoted himself to
him with all the caprice of his character. Wearied with everything,
_oppressed by his familiar demon_, Byron came one day to find Father
Paul, and request his hospitality.
The monk on seeing him reminded him of the words of the last conversation
they had had together--"_You cannot convince me, I am still an
Atheist_." Instead of replying, Byron requested the Father to permit
him to inhabit a cell, and relieve him from the ennui which poisoned his
life. "While uttering these words," said Father Paul, "he pressed my
hands, and called me his father; the locks of his hair, dripping with
perspiration, covered his forehead; his face was pale, his lips trembled:
dared I to ask him the cause of his melancholy?"--"My father, all
_your_ days are like each other; as for _me_, I shall always be
a traveller."--"Have you no country? If the feeling of absence causes your
sorrow, depart; my prayers and good wishes will accompany you to
England."--"Speak not to me of England; I would rather be dragged in
chains on the sands of Libya, than revisit places imprinted with the curse
which I have given them. The injustice of men has made England odious to
me; it has separated us for ever; after the death of man, however, if it
be true that the soul survives, I should be delighted to inhabit it, as a
pure spirit. This mystery is only known to God."--"Well, if you have
renounced your country, take care to give your mind occupation, without
too great exertion of your fancy. Is it the fault of the Creator if men
are misled by false doctrines? God never predestined their perfect
knowledge. Think you that peace of mind, and health of body can be the lot
of him, whose life is perpetually in contradiction to that of other men?
His reason is perverted who doubts the infinite power of God, and the man
inscribed on the list of Atheists must be necessarily unhappy."--"Atheist!
Atheist! This is then the end of your consolation to me! It is thus that
you call your son! Minister of that God who reads the hearts of men,
learn, my reverend father, that it is beyond your power to discover an
Atheist, even if his own mouth made you the hypocritical confession. An
Atheist it is impossible to find--to admit his existence is to outrage the
Sovereign of the World, who, in perfecting his noblest work, did not
forget to engrave there the name of its immortal Author. Passions may
arouse doubts; but when the Atheist questions himself, the evidence of a
God confounds his incredulity, and the truth of the sentiment which fills
his thoughts absolves him of the crime of Atheism. It is easy for you, my
father, never to murmur against the Author of your being; you, who, in the
gentle quiet of a life exempt from storms; have acquired the conviction
that the sun of your old age will illumine the same scenes as did that of
your youth. As for me--thrown on the earth like a disinherited child, born
to feel happiness, and never finding it--I wander from climate to climate,
with the sentiment of my everlasting misery. Since reason has unfolded to
me the feeling of my wretchedness, nothing has yet tempered the bitterness
of my distress. Fed with the hate of men--betrayed by those whose kindness
I compared to that of angels--attacked by an incurable disease, which has
swept away my ancestors--tell me, man of truth, if murmurs excited by
despair can characterize an Atheist, and bring upon him the anger of
Heaven. Oh! unhappy Byron!! if after so many mortal trials thy last hope
of salvation is taken from thee--well!!"--Here the voice of my lord
faltered.
His gloomy silence lasted nearly a quarter of an hour. All on a sudden he
rose from his chair with eagerness, and walked round the room, stopping
before the holy pictures which adorned it. A moment after he came to me,
and said, "Do you remember that you promised a month ago to give me
certain things which you possess?"--"I possess very little, and that
little has nothing which can tempt you: however, speak!"--"I remember the
words of your answer, and you can no longer refuse me anything." Then he
advanced towards a corner of my room, and taking down a beautiful crucifix
which I had brought from Rome, he placed it in my hands. I offered it to
Byron, saying, "_This is the consoler of the unhappy_." He seized it
with transport, and kissing it several times, he added, with eyes bathed
in tears, "My hands shall not long profane it, and my mother will soon be
the guardian of your precious relic!"
* * * * *
To griefs congenial prone,
More wounds than nature gave he knew,
While misery's form his fancy drew
In dark ideal hues, and horrors not its own.
_Goethe--Foreign Review_.
* * * * *
THE GATHERER.
A snapper up of unconsidered trifles.
SHAKSPEARE
* * * * *
ON LORD GROSVENOR'S ANNUAL INCOME.
Our journals, which tell us of ev'ry one's matters,
From the king on the throne, to the pauper in tatters;
Say his lordship possesses, if rightly I scan 'em,
Two hundred and seventy-two thousands per annum.
On this statement I've latterly ventur'd to ponder,
And deduc'd calculations, with diff'rence as under:
I suppos'd was his income five thousand a week,
(Of the surplus remaining I shall not now speak[2])
By close computation I found it came near
To seven hundred and twenty, for each day's arrear.
Intent on the subject reducing it lower
I found thirty pounds was the draught for each hour.
Pursuing my theme, for amusement was in it,
There were ten shillings sterling for each fleeting minute,
And for ev'ry pulsation of time, called a second,
"According to Cocker," two-pence must be reckon'd.
PERCY HENDON.
[2] There remains the sum of L12,000 which I
have not treated on in order to avoid fractional
parts.
* * * * *
In the churchyard of Carisbrook is the following epitaph on a loving
couple:--
Of life he had the better slice,
They lived at once, and died at twice.
* * * * *
Frost is the greatest artist in our clime;
He paints in nature, and describes in rime.
* * * * *
NOTICE FROM THE PUBLISHER.
Purchasers of the MIRROR, who may wish to complete their volumes, are
informed that the whole of the numbers are now in print, and can be
procured by giving an order to any Bookseller or Newsvender.
Complete sets Vol I. to XI. in boards, price L2. 19s. 6d. half bound, L3.
17s.
* * * * *
_Printed and Published by J. LIMBIRD, 143, Strand, (near Somerset
House,) London; sold by ERNEST FLEISCHER, 626, New Market, Leipsic; and by
all Newsmen and Booksellers_.