Blackwood's Edinburgh Magazine, Volume 58, No. 362, December 1845

The first grey light of morning had scarcely appeared in the Lower Amezcoa, stealing over the mountain-tops, and indistinctly shadowing forth the objects in the plain, when the stillness that had reigned in the valley since the conclusion of the preceding day's skirmish, was broken by the loud and joyous clang of the reveillé. At various points of the Christino cantonments, the brazen instruments of the cavalry, and the more numerous, but perhaps less martially sounding, bands of the infantry regiments, were rousing the drowsy soldiers from their slumbers, and awakening the surrounding echoes by the wild melody of Riego's hymn. Gradually the sky grew brighter, the last lingering stars disappeared, the summits of the western mountains were illuminated with a golden flush, and the banks and billows of white mist that rested on the meadows, and hung upon the hillsides, began to melt away and disappear at the approach of the sun's rays. In the fields and on the roads near the different villages, the troops were seen assembling, the men silent and heavy-eyed, but refreshed and invigorated by the night's repose, the horses champing their bits, and neighing with impatience. Trains of mules, laden with sacks of corn and rations, that from their weight might be deemed sufficient load for as many dromedaries, issued from barn and stable, expending their superfluous strength and spirit by kicking and biting viciously at each other, and were ranged in rear of the troops, where also carts and litters, containing wounded men, awaited the order for departure. The sergeant-majors called the roll of their troops and companies; whilst the men, leaning upon their muskets, or sitting at ease in their saddles, munched fragments of the brown ration bread, smoked the cigarette, or received from the hands of the tawny-visaged sutlers and cantinieras, who walked up and down the ranks, an antidote to the effects of the cool morning air, in the shape of a glass of aguardiente. When all preparations were completed, and the time necessary for the forming up of so numerous a body of men had elapsed, the order to march was given, and the troops moved off in a southerly direction.

Whilst this general movement took place, a detachment, consisting of four companies of infantry, and fifty dragoons, separated itself from the main body, and took the road to Pampeluna, whither it was to escort Count Villabuena and his fellow captives. The country to the north-east of the Amezcoa, through which they would have to pass, was known to be free from Carlists, with the exception of unimportant parties of armed peasants; Rodil himself had gone in pursuit of Zumalacarregui, who had retired in the same direction whence he had approached the valley; and therefore this escort, although so few in number, was deemed amply sufficient to convey the prisoners in all safety to their destination, to which one long day's march would bring them. The detachment was commanded by a major of infantry – a young man who had acquired what military experience he possessed in the ease and sloth of a garrison life, during which, however, thanks to certain influential recommendations, he had found promotion come so quickly that he had not the same reason with many of his comrades to be satisfied with the more active and dangerous service to which he had recently been called. Inwardly congratulating himself on the change which his present duty ensured him from the hardships of bivouacs and bad quarters to at least a day or two's enjoyment of the fleshpots of Pampeluna, he rode gaily along at the head of the escort, chatting and laughing with his second in command. Behind him came Herrera and his dragoons, and in rear of them the prisoners, on either side of whom marched foot-soldiers with fixed bayonets. The body of infantry brought up the rear. Strict orders had been given against conversing with the captives; and Herrera was compelled, therefore, to abandon the intention he had formed of endeavouring to break down the barrier of cold reserve within which Count Villabuena had fenced himself, and of offering such assistance and comfort as it was in his power to give. He was forced to be contented with keeping near the prisoners, in order to protect them from any abuse or ill-treatment on the part of the soldiery.

For some hours the march continued without incident or novelty to vary its monotony. There was no high-road in the direction the escort was taking; the way, which was shown them by a peasant, led through country lanes, over hills, and across fields, as nearly in a straight line as the rugged and mountainous nature of the country would allow. Towards noon, the heat, endurable enough during the first hours of the morning, became excessive. The musket barrels and sabre scabbards almost burned the fingers that touched them; the coats of the horses were caked with sweat and dust; and the men went panting along, looking out eagerly, but in vain, for some roadside fountain or streamlet, at which to quench the thirst that parched their mouths. They had reached a beaten road, which, although rough and neglected, yet afforded a better footing than they had hitherto had, when such means of refreshment at last presented themselves. It was near the entrance of a sort of defile formed by two irregular lines of low hills, closing in the road, which was fringed with patches of trees and brushwood, and with huge masses of rock that seemed to have been placed there by the hands of the Titans, or to have rolled thither during some mighty convulsion of nature from the distant ranges of mountains. At a short distance from this pass, there bubbled forth from under a moss-grown block of granite a clear and sparkling rivulet, which, overflowing the margin of the basin it had formed for itself, rippled across the road, and entered the opposite fields. Here a five minutes' halt was called, the men were allowed to quit their ranks, and in an instant they were kneeling by scores along the side of the little stream, collecting the water in canteens and foraging-caps, and washing their hands and faces in the pure element. The much-needed refreshment taken, the march was resumed.

Notwithstanding that the pass through which the prisoners and their escort were now advancing was nearly a mile in length, and in many places admirably adapted for a surprise, the officer in command, either through ignorance or over-confidence, neglected the usual precaution of sending scouts along the hills that on either side commanded the road. This negligence struck Herrera, who knew by experience, that, with such active and wily foes as the Carlists, no precaution could be dispensed with, however superfluous it might seem. Scarcely had the troops entered the defile when he suggested to the major the propriety of sending out skirmishers to beat the thickets and guard against an ambuscade.

"Quite unnecessary, sir," was the reply. "There is no rebel force in this part of the country that would venture to come within a league of us."

"So we are told," said Herrera; "but I have had occasion to see that one must not always rely on such assurances."

"I shall do so, nevertheless, in this instance," said the major. "We have a long march before us, and if I fag the men by sending them clambering over hills and rocks, I shall lose half of them by straggling, and perhaps not reach Pampeluna to-night."

"If you will allow me," said Herrera, "I will send a few of my dragoons to do the duty. They will hardly be so effective as infantry for such a service, but it will be better than leaving our flanks entirely unguarded."

"I have already told you, sir," replied the major testily, "that I consider such precaution overstrained and unnecessary. I believe, Lieutenant Herrera, that it is I who command this detachment."

Thus rebuked, Herrera desisted from his remonstrances, and fell back into his place. The march continued in all security through the wild and dangerous defile; the men, refreshed by their momentary halt, tramping briskly along, chattering, smoking, and singing snatches of soldier's songs. It appeared as if the negligence of the major was likely to be justified, as far as it could be, by the result; for they were now within two hundred yards of the extremity of the pass, and in view of the open country. The defile was each moment widening, and the space between the road and the hills was filled up with a wood of young beech and oak. Herrera himself, who had each moment been expecting to receive a volley from some ambushed foe, was beginning to think the danger over, when a man dressed in red uniform, with a scarlet cap upon his head, and mounted on a white horse, suddenly appeared at the end of the pass, and tossing his lance, which he carried at the trail, into his bridle hand, put a trumpet that was slung round his neck, to his mouth, and blew a loud and startling blast. The signal, for such it was, did not long remain unanswered. A hoarse wild shout issued from the wood on either side of the road, and a volley of musketry resounded through the pass. In an instant the hills were alive with Carlist soldiers, some reloading the muskets they had just fired, others taking aim at the Christinos, or fixing their bayonets in preparation for a closer encounter. Another minute had scarcely elapsed, when a strong squadron of cavalry, which the trumpeter had preceded, dashed out of the fields at the extremity of the pass, formed column upon the road, and levelling their long light lances, advanced, led on by Zumalacarregui himself, to charge the astonished Christinos.

Extreme was the confusion into which the escort was thrown by this attack, so totally unexpected by every body but Herrera. All was bewilderment and terror; the men stood staring at each other, or at their dead and wounded comrades, without even thinking of defending themselves. This state of stupefaction lasted, however, but a second; and then the soldiers, without waiting for orders, turned back to back, and facing the points where the Carlists had stationed themselves, returned their fire with all the vigour and promptness which desperation could give. The major – a really brave man, but quite unequal to an emergency of this nature – knew not what orders to give, or how to extricate himself and his men from the scrape into which his own headstrong imprudence had brought them. Foreseeing no possibility of escape from an enemy who, in numbers and advantage of position, so far overmatched him, his next thought regarded the prisoners, and he galloped hastily back to where they stood. The Carlists had probably received orders concerning them; for neither they nor their immediate escort had suffered injury from the volley that had played such havoc with the main body of the detachment.

"Fire on the prisoners!" shouted the major.

The guard round Villabuena and his fellow-captives stared at their officer without obeying. Some of them were reloading, and the others apparently did not comprehend the strange order.

"Fire, I say!" repeated the commandant. "By the holy cross! if we are to leave our bones here, theirs shall whiten beside them."

More than one musket was already turned in the direction of the doomed captives, when Herrera, who, at the moment that he was about to lead his dragoons to the encounter of the Carlist cavalry, just then appearing on the road, had overheard the furious exclamation of his superior, came galloping back to the rescue.

"Stop!" shouted he, striking up the muzzles of the muskets. "You have no warrant for such cruelty."

"Traitor!" screamed the major, almost breathless with rage, and raising his sword to make a cut at Herrera. Before, however, he could give force to the blow, his eyes rolled frightfully, his feet left the stirrups, and, dropping his weapon, he fell headlong into the dust. A Carlist bullet had pierced his heart.

"Fire at your foes, and not at defenceless prisoners," said Herrera sternly to the dismayed soldiers. "Remember that your lives shall answer for those of these men."

And again placing himself at the head of the cavalry, he led them to meet Zumalacarregui and his lancers, who were already charging down upon them.

But the few seconds that had been occupied in saving Villabuena and his companions from the slaughter, had made all the difference in the chances of success. Could Herrera have charged, as he had been about to do, before the Carlists formed up and advanced, he might, in all probability, owing to the greater skill of his men in the use of their weapons, and to the superiority of their horses, have broken and sabred his opponents, and opened the road for the Christino infantry. Once in the plain, where the dragoons could act with advantage, the Carlists might have been kept at bay, and a retreat effected. Now, however, the state of affairs was very different. The lancers, with Zumalacarregui and several of his staff charging at their head like mere subalterns, came thundering along the road, and before Herrera could get his dragoons into full career, the shock took place. In an instant the way was blocked up with a confused mass of men and horses. The rear files of the contending cavalry, unable immediately to check their speed, pushed forward those in front, or forced them off the road upon the strip of broken ground and brushwood on either side; friends and foes were mingled together, cutting, thrusting, swearing, and shouting. But the dragoons, besides encountering the lances of the hostile cavalry, suffered terribly from the fire of the foot-soldiers, who came down to the side of the road, blazing at them from within a few paces, and even thrusting them off their horses with the bayonet. In so confused a struggle, and against such odds, the superior discipline and skill of the Christinos was of small avail. Herrera, who, at the first moment of the encounter, had crossed swords with Zumalacarregui himself, but who the next instant had been separated from him by the mêlée, fought like a lion, till his right arm was disabled by a lance-thrust. The soldier who had wounded him was about to repeat the blow, when a Carlist officer interfered to save him. He was made prisoner, and his men, discouraged by his loss, and reduced already to little more than a third of their original numbers, threw down their arms and asked for quarter. Their example was immediately followed by those of the infantry who had escaped alive from the murderous volleys of their opponents.

Of all those who took part in this bloody conflict, not one bore himself more gallantly, or did more execution amongst the enemy, than our old acquaintance, Sergeant Velasquez. When the charge had taken place, and the desperate fight above described commenced, he backed his horse off the narrow road upon which the combatants were cooped up, into a sort of nook formed by a bank and some trees. In this advantageous position, his rear and flanks protected, he kept off all who attacked him, replying with laugh and jeer to the furious oaths and imprecations of his baffled antagonists. His fierce and determined aspect, and still more the long and powerful sweep of his broad sabre, struck terror into his assailants, who found their best aimed blows and most furious assaults repelled, and returned with fatal effect by the practised arm of the dragoon. At the moment that Herrera was wounded, and the fight brought to a close, the mass of combatants had pressed further forward into the defile, and only three or four of the rearmost of the Carlists occupied the portion of the pass between Velasquez and the open country. Just then a shout in his rear, and a bullet that pierced his shako, warned the sergeant that the infantry were upon him; and at the same moment he saw his comrades desist from their defence. Setting spurs to his charger, he made the animal bound forward upon the road, clove the shoulder of the nearest lancer, rode over another, and passing unhurt through the rain of bullets that whistled around him, galloped out of the defile.

But, although unwounded, Velasquez was not unpursued. A dozen lancers spurred their horses after him; and although more than half of these, seeing that they had no chance of overtaking the well-mounted fugitive, soon pulled up and retraced their steps, three or four still persevered in the chase. Fortunate was it for the sergeant that the good horse which he had lost at the venta near Tudela, had been replaced by one of equal speed and mettle. With unabated swiftness he scoured along the road through the whirlwind of dust raised by his charger's feet, until the Carlists, seeing the distance between them and the object of their pursuit rapidly increasing, gradually abandoned the race. One man alone continued stanch, and seemed not unlikely to overtake the dragoon. This was no other than the sergeant's former opponent in the ball-court, Paco the muleteer, now converted into a Carlist lancer, and who, his sharp-rowelled spurs goring his horse's sides, his lance in his hand, his body bent forward as though he would fain have outstripped in his eagerness the speed of the animal he bestrode, dashed onward with headlong and reckless violence. His lean and raw-boned but swift and vigorous horse, scarcely felt the light weight of its rider; whilst Velasquez' charger, in addition to the solid bulk of the dragoon, was encumbered with a well-filled valise and heavy trappings. The distance between pursued and pursuer was rapidly diminishing; and the sergeant, hearing the clatter of hoofs each moment drawing nearer, looked over his shoulder to see by how many of his enemies he was so obstinately followed. Paco immediately recognised him, and with a shout of exultation again drove the rowels into his horse's belly.

"Halto! traidor! infame!" yelled the ex-muleteer. "Stop, coward, and meet your death like a man!"

His invitation was not long disregarded. Velasquez, having ascertained that he had but a single pursuer, and that pursuer a man to whom he owed a grudge and was by no means sorry to give a lesson, pulled up his horse and confronted Paco, who, nothing daunted, came tearing along, waving his lance above his head like a mad Cossack, and shouting imprecations and defiance. As he came up, Velasquez, who had steadily awaited his charge, parried the furious thrust that was aimed at him, and at the same time, by a movement of leg and rein which he had often practised in the manège, caused his horse to bound aside. Unable immediately to check his steed, Paco passed onwards; but as he did so, Velasquez dealt him a back-handed blow of his sabre, and the unlucky Carlist fell bleeding and senseless from the saddle. His horse, terrified at its rider's fall, galloped wildly across the country.

"That makes the half-dozen," said the sergeant coolly, as he looked down on his prostrate foe; "if every one of us had done as much, the day's work would have been better."

And sheathing his sabre, he resumed, but at a more moderate pace, the flight which had for a moment been interrupted.

WHITE'S THREE YEARS IN CONSTANTINOPLE

The title of "Domestic Manners of the Turks,"28 given to the volumes before us, can scarcely be considered as a correct designation; since it is not in the privacy of their own families, in their harems and among their children, (scenes in which it would indeed be rash to challenge comparison with the eloquent author of the Spirit of the East,) that Mr White has depicted the Turks of the present day: but rather in the places "where men most do congregate" – in the bezestans and tcharshys or markets, commonly called bazars:29 in the exercise of the various trades and callings, and the intercourse of professional and commercial relations. The work is rather a treatise on the corporate bodies and municipal institutions of Constantinople – a subject hitherto almost untouched by European writers, and in the investigation of which Mr White has diligently availed himself of the opportunities afforded him by the liberal spirit which the events of late years have fostered among the Turks. The results of these researches are now laid before us, in a form which, though perhaps not the most popular which might have been adopted, is not ill calculated to embrace the vast variety of subjects included in the range of the author's observations. Taking the bezestans and markets – the focus of business and commerce to which the various classes of the Stamboul population converge – as the ground-work of his lucubrations, Mr White proceeds to enumerate in detail the various trades and handicrafts carried on within the precincts of these great national marts, the articles therein sold, and the guilds or incorporated companies, to many of which extensive privileges have been granted by the sultans for their services to the state. These topics are diversified by numerous digressions on politics, religion, criminal law, the imperial harem, the language of flowers – in short, de omnibus rebus et quibusdam aliis– in the course of which Mr White gives his readers the benefit of all the miscellaneous information which has fallen in his way during his three years' residence among the Osmanlis. Of a work so diffuse in its nature, it is impossible to give more than an outline; and accordingly, omitting all mention of those subjects which have been rendered tolerably familiar to European readers by the narratives of former travellers, we shall select from these "orient pearls," strung most literally "at random," such topics as possess most novelty, or on which Mr White has imparted some novel information.

The space of ground occupied by the two great bezestans – the jewel or arms' bezestan, and the silk bezestan – with the surrounding tcharshys, and other buildings appropriated to trade, forms an irregular quadrangle of about three hundred and fifty square yards, to the north of the Mosque of Sultan Bajazet, and west of that of Noor-Osmanya. "The bezestans originally consisted of isolated buildings, each with four gates opening nearly to the cardinal points, which were, and still are, designated after the trades carried on in booths around or beneath their respective porches. By degrees new shops, alleys, and enclosures clustered around the original depots, until the whole were enclosed within walls, arched, roofed, and provided with lock-up gates and posterns, of which there are twelve large and about twenty small. They were then subjected to the same syndical laws that regulate the police and administration of the parent buildings." They are opened soon after dawn, and closed at afternoon prayer; and the same regulations are observed at the Missr Tcharshy, or Egyptian drug-market, hereafter to be noticed. The jewel bezestan alone shuts at mid-day – the former occupants having been principally janissaries, who held it beneath their dignity to keep their shops open all day; on Fridays they are closed; and, during Ramazan, are open only from mid-day to afternoon prayer. The silk bezestan, being tenanted only by Armenians, is closed on Sundays, and the saints' days of their calendar, amounting to nearly a fourth of the year. "With the exception of the two bezestans, the bazars are not surmounted by domes, the distinctive ornament of almost all public edifices; … so that the whole surface, when seen from the Serasker's Tower, presents a vast area of tiles, without any architectural relief, and exhibits a monotonous vacuum in the midst of the surrounding noble mosques and lofty khans."

The Jewel or Arms' Bezestan (Djevahir or Silah-Bezestany) is the oldest of these establishments, dating from the time of the conquest by Mahommed II.; but, having been repeatedly destroyed by fire, the present edifice of stone was constructed in 1708. It is a lofty oblong quadrangular building, with fifteen cupolas and four arched gates – the booksellers', the goldsmiths', the mercers', and the beltmakers'. The interior consists of a broad alley, intersected by four transverse alleys with double rows of shops, where the dealers, who are all Moslems, sit on platforms raised about three feet and a half from the pavement. They constitute a guild among themselves, presided over by a sheikh, with a deputy and six elders; and are so highly esteemed for their probity, that valuable deposits are frequently left in their charge by persons going on pilgrimage or to distant countries; but this privilege has lately been interfered with by government, which has claimed, in failure of heirs, the reversions which formerly fell to the guild. "It would be an endless task to describe the articles exposed to sale in Djevahir-Bezestany, which, from jewels being rarely sold there at present, might be more appropriately called the bezestan of antiquities." The principal objects of attraction, especially to foreigners, are the arms, to which Mr White accordingly confines his remarks: but the once famed Damascus sabres (called Sham or Syrian) are now held as inferior to those of Khorassan and Persia, (Taban or polished,) unless anterior to the destruction of the old manufactory by Timour in 1400; and those of this ancient fabric are now of extreme rarity and value. "A full-sized Khorassan, or ancient Damascus sabre, should measure about thirty-five inches from guard to point; the back should be free from flaws, the watering even and distinct throughout the whole length: the colour a bluish grey. A perfect sabre should possess what the Turks call the Kirk Merdevend, (forty gradations:) that is, the blade should consist of forty compartments of watered circles, diminishing in diameter as they reach the point. A tolerable taban of this kind, with plain scabbard and horn handle, is not easily purchased for less than 2000 piastres; some fetch as much as 5000, and when recognised as extraordinary, there is no limit to the price. Damascus sabres made prior to 1600 are seldom seen, but modern blades of less pure temper and lighter colour are common. Their form is nearly similar to the Khorassan; but the latter, when of extraordinary temper, will cut through the former like a knife through a bean-stalk." The shorter swords of bright steel called pala, watered not in circles, but in waving lines, are mostly from the manufactory established at Stamboul by Mahommed II. soon after the conquest, and which maintained its celebrity up to the time of Mourad IV., the last sultan who headed his armies in person: – "After his death, the fashion of wearing Khorassan and old Syrian blades was revived: and the Stamboul manufactory was gradually neglected."