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the populations of Europe to war in the Holy Land; he possessed the same chivalrous courage, unflinching sternness, and disinterested fervour-disinterested so far as mere earthly things were concernedwhich animated those of the religious zealots who went because they found it easier to win heaven with their blood on a battle-field, than through penitence and prayer.

Like most men of an ardent temperament, he had the defect of being quick and hasty; and in his passion was often guilty of acts which, although nothing after all but a severe and unsparing justice, in cold blood he would have been incapable of. More than one officer in the Carlist army owes his rank to having been on some occasion reprimanded by him in terms which, when his anger was over, he knew to be too severe. I believe him-as far as it is possible to judge of a man's character by a year's observation and acquaintance-t -to have been free from any ambition of personal aggrandisement. Wrapped entirely in the cause he had adopted, he thought and dreamed but of that; and I believe that, from the hour when he undertook to repair the broken fortunes of the Royalist party, to that when he expired in the midst of his triumphs, his only motive was to witness its success. The wish of augmenting his military glory—the bubble reputation, which cheers the soldier on his perilous career— perhaps added a fresh incentive.

The contempt of gold which he always evinced formed a striking feature of his character. When he died, after paying the army for two years, and raising contributions in three provinces, he left to be divided amongst his household all that he possessed in the world -about 481. sterling and four or five horses. Even his barber, the waggish Robledo, was richer than the Carlist commander-in-chief. Any sum he possessed in the morning was sure by the evening to be dissipated; he gave it away, sailor-fashion, by handsful to his soldiers, or the first beggars who importuned him, and who, well aware of his foible, never failed to beset him. He used, quite out of temper, to exclaim, "Here-take-take! when you have got all I have, you will leave me in peace." Of an evening his subalterns were obliged to pay for him in the coffee-house. "You give more," observed his wife, than is reasonable, or than you can afford." "We are more like God when we give," was his answer.'-vol. i. pp. 87-96.

Stern and severe as he was, and unsparing of fatigue for his men-leading them long marches with a rapidity which it seemed the human frame could scarcely have supported-he was the soldiers' idol. He obtained the sobriquet of El Tio Tomas, "Uncle Thomas," as the French called Napoleon Le petit Caporal; and he was better krown under the appellation of El Tio, than by his Gothic name Zumalacarregui. His skill and valour, the peril from which he so often saved his soldiers, and the successes to which he led the way, seem scarcely sufficient to accouut for their wild attachment to the man they loved and feared above all others-an attachment which

must

must be felt to be understood. Without garments, without pay, without provisions, his army would have followed him barefoot all over the world, or have perished by the way. The same degree of enthusiasm was entertained towards him as was displayed in the French army for l'Empereur, and this extended to the populations of the revolted provinces, excepting that it was difficult to say whether love or awe predominated-with the peasant they were certainly strangely blended.

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I joined the Carlists and Zumalacarregui when he had nothing but the reputation of a guerrilla chief who had skilfully baffled the pursuit of the Queen's troops, and struck a few daring blows, but whom, from the description then given on the other side of the Pyrenees, I expected to find ferocious and ignorant. I remember at first my total inability to comprehend enthusiastic attachment, independent of private friendship, to any individual; but I ended by sharing entirely the feelings of the soldiers; and so long as he lived, in success or adversity, I would have followed him to the end, even if I had experienced no acts of kindness at his hands. It was of course for Don Carlos I had come to fight. I had been rather prejudiced against than in favour of his general, yet, in the brief space of a few months, if Don Carlos had abandoned his own cause, I should have remained to follow Zumalacarregui.'-Ibid. p. 102.

Alongside of this portrait, we must place that of the warlike Curate of Castile:

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Merino, now sixty-two years of age, was born at Villaviado, and spent his early years in the humble capacity of a goatherd. He had, however, picked up, in the religious establishment of a neighbouring town, the rudiments of an ordinary education, when an old clergyman, discovering in the young herdsman indications of ability, undertook to bring him up for the church. In six months the youth made such rapid progress under his tuition, that he was enabled to take orders, and was appointed curate of his native village. It seems difficult to associate the idea of a talent for any species of literature with those requisite for a leader of partisans, whose career, excepting that his conduct shews him to have been moved only by patriotic motives, has resembled that of daring and reckless brigands committing every sort of excess against their enemy. As to Merino, however, he never touched the least portion of the rich booty his followers often obtained. He conducted himself in a similar manner in the war waged against Napoleon, when he might have possessed himself of immense treasures. The moment the war was concluded he retired to his home, the rank of brigadier-general having been conferred upon him in consideration of his eminent services.

'Zumalacarregui rendered justice to Merino as an enterprising and daring leader. He once observed, however, after the actions of Vittoria, that "if we had all the men the curate has lost, we could march upon Madrid when we chose."

'Merino

'Merino is the true type of the Guerrilla chief. Of small stature but iron frame, he can resist the greatest fatigues, and is wonderfully skilled in all martial exercises. His dress is rather ecclesiastical than military, and reminds one more of the curate of Villaviado than of the Brigadier-General Merino. He wears a long black frock coat, round hat, and a cavalry sword. The only luxury in which he seems to indulge is having a good horse beneath him. He has two magnificent black steeds, which are not only renowned for their excessive speed, but climb among the rocks and mountains like goats. These are both saddled and bridled, and have been trained always to keep abreast, so that at whatever pace the mounted one may go the other is by its side. Merino, when he sees that one is tired, leaps from one saddle into the other, even when they are going at full gallop. He always carries, slung by his side, an enormous blunderbuss or trombone, the discharge of which, loaded with a handful of powder and a number of slugs, is like that of a piece of artillery, and would fracture his shoulder if fired in the ordinary manner; but he places the stock under his arm, and holds the barrel tight with the other hand. The last effort the Christinos made to take him was by sending against him a colonel named Moyos, who had also been a chief of partisans, much in Merino's style. This man, of gigantic frame and stature, was well acquainted with the country, and of undaunted energy. Merino favoured him with an early interview, and in the first skirmish he met his death from a trombone. The curate has seen sufficient of the fidelity of partisans, it appears, to trust only one old servant who has been with him for the last forty years. Every evening, when he has disposed of his men, he rides away for the night, no one, excepting his faithful servitor, knowing whither he has gone. This has given rise to a report that he never sleeps above a few minutes in the fourand-twenty hours, a story in which the Castilians place implicit faith, and indeed they may well believe anything of a countryman who neither smokes nor drinks wine. He is simple and even patriarchal in all his habits, but the successes he has obtained have always been tarnished with cruelty. An indefatigable and faithful adherent to the cause he has adopted, he has ever been found a bitter and merciless enemy; and his stern and inevitable decree against his prisoners is death."

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Mr. Boyd's account of the sullen silence with which the Christino troops were received in the Basque villages, must be in the recollection of our readers. Take this sketch of the impression made on the mind of an officer, who, like Mr. Boyd, had accompanied a Christino march,-but who, in the sequel, joined the camp of Zumalacarregui :—

On seeing the absolute frenzy of the inhabitants, and hearing all the bells ringing, and beholding the women, in their best attire, coming out to meet us at a distance from the village, stunning us

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with their questions for brothers, lovers, and relations, and almost dragging us from our horses to partake of wine, chocolate, or some refreshment, while handkerchiefs, shawls, and curtains were waving from the windows, and flowers were showering down upon us as we rode along, his astonishment knew no bounds. He could not help contrasting our reception with that which the Christino troops experienced the last time they had passed through the same place. Then," said he, "a dead silence reigned in the village, broken only by the tramp of our horses' feet; it seemed like a deserted spot,-the doors were all closed, a few old crones only looking on, with their blear eyes, and some children hovering about the corners of the street. Here and there a head might be popped out of a window above, but it was as quickly withdrawn again. If our soldiers asked for wine, no one knew where any was to be obtained; and they veiled their antipathy to us under an appearance of intractable stupidity. The very children, who are now chattering so fast, when we inquired when the factiosos had last been in the village, did not know what we meant, or had never seen them. The soldiers and officers, uttering an oath against the ill-licked cubs, would pass on." In all probability di rectly the column had gone through, the partida, which had left in the morning, on returning would be surrounded by twenty urchins, who had made observations concerning the negros with a precocious shrewdness and gravity acquired during the unquiet times in which they lived. They communicated everything eagerly to the Calristas, as they vulgarly mispronounced the word.'

It will only be fair to Zumalacarregui, that before we give any specimens of the war under his management, we should begin with Mr. Henningsen's account of the treatment of the Carlist chief Zavala by the Queen's party, some months before Zumalacarregui appeared on the scene of action :

'I will give an example of cruelty exercised against Zavala, beyond what Europe would believe of the modern ages and of the party who profess to desire nothing but the improvement of Spain. Having, when pursued, sometimes obstinately defended himself, his two daughters, who had fallen into the hands of the Christinos, were dragged about, and always carried forward with the tirailleurs in every encounter by the garrison of Bilboa, which had daily skirmishes with him. Zavala, fearful of injuring his own children, was obliged to prevent his partisans from returning the enemy's fire, and precipitately to retreat. At length, driven almost to desperation between the reproaches of his party and his paternal feelings, he sacrificed the latter to his duty; and having harangued his followers, placed them in ambush near a little village between Guernica and the sea. The enemy, being informed of the circumstance, advanced along the road, leading forward as usual his two daughters. Zavala, in a firm voice, but with tears in his eyes, ordered his men to open their fire; and, instantly rushing in with the bayonet, was fortunate enough to recover his children unhurt; they had, however, narrowly

escaped,

escaped, two of those who held them being killed by the first discharge. His devotion was rewarded with victory; the enemy was dispersed and routed.'

Captain Henningsen has a striking description of the battle, or series of skirmishes, in which Quesada was finally discomfited. The Queen's general owed his own escape solely to the gallant devotion of Colonel Leopold O'Donnel, Conde de Labispal, a nobleman of Irish extraction, who, happening to fall in with the army when travelling to Pampeluna, where a young and beautiful heiress was waiting to become his wife, had volunteered his services for the day, and headed a company of hussars of the Guard. O'Donnel was one of the many who fell into the hands of the Carlists.

Last but not least of the prisoners taken was the Count Labispal: -gallantly but vainly struggling to rally his men, he was surrounded by the Navarrese. Hitherto the Carlist prisoners had been shot as rebels, and the Christinos had suffered death by way of reprisal. Zumalacarregui, anxious to put an end to this dreadful state of things, set at liberty, and caused to be escorted as far as Echauri, five miles from Pampeluna, two soldiers, who, unable from fatigue to follow the march, had been taken from Quesada's column. The next time Quesada sallied from Pampeluna he requited the mercy of the Carlist general by shooting in Huarte d'Araquil a wounded volunteer, and putting afterwards to death the alcalde of Atoun, who was suspected of Carlism, as well as several other individuals. Zumalacarregui now wrote to the General Count Armilde de Toledo, to state" that since the chiefs appointed by the usurping government were unwilling to make any arrangement for the preservation of the lives of their respective followers,-although he had several times set them the example of clemency-the blood of those that perished must be now on their own heads."

He kept his word: of all the prisoners who were executed, perhaps the fate of Leopold O'Donnel was the most melancholy. He perished through that valour which seems an heirloom in his family, and sacrificed himself with a company of the Guards to save Quesada and his staff. He offered, if Zumalacarregui would spare his life, to pay a ransom that would equip all the battalions of Navarre; but knowing the necessity for making an example, the chief remained inexorable. He died with his brother officers of the Guards, in a manner which added another example to the many, that often those who have most enjoyed a life of luxury and pleasure, and to whom it still holds forth bright prospects, can relinquish it with the least regret. His father, the Count of Labispal, celebrated both during the triumphs of Wellington and the revolution of 1823, callous and heartless as he had been throughout his political career, was doomed to prove, on hearing the death of his son, that there was still one point where his sensibility was vulnerable. He died of a broken heart at Montpellier,

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