70 General Order, Horse-Guards, Feb. 1st, 1809.
71 “He always rose between three and four in the morning, lighted his fire and candle by a lamp, and wrote till breakfast-hour. Afterwards, he received commanding officers, transacted business, and then rode out to view the troops or reconnoitre the country. His table was plentiful, his guests varying from fourteen to twenty. With these he talked familiarly, drank a few glasses of wine, returned to his orderly business, and was in bed by ten o’clock.”—Life of Moore.
72 “Pray for me, that I may make right decisions, * * * I sleep little,” &c. &c. “I see my situation, and nothing can be worse.”—Campaign, &c. in Spain.
73 Disastrous as Sir John Moore’s campaign proved, the French accounts circulated over the continent grossly exaggerated the real loss of our army, and heavy indeed it was. “Three British regiments,” they said, “the 42nd, 50th, and 52nd, had been entirely destroyed in the action—and Sir John Moore killed in attempting to charge at their head with the vain hope of restoring the fortune of the day. The English had lost every thing which constitutes an army, artillery, horses, baggage, ammunition, magazines, and military chests. Of eighty pieces of cannon they had landed, they had re-embarked no more than 12,—200,000 weight of powder, 16,000 muskets, and 2,000,000 of treasure (about 83,000l.), had fallen into the hands of the pursuers, and treasure yet more considerable had been thrown down the precipices along the road between Astorga and Corunna, where the peasantry and the soldiers were now collecting it. Five thousand horses had been counted which they had slaughtered upon the way—five hundred were taken at Corunna, and the carcases of twelve hundred were infecting the streets when the conquerors entered that town. The English would have occupied Ferrol, and seized the squadron there, had it not been for the precipitance of their retreat, and the result of the battle to which they had been brought at last. Thus, then, had terminated their expedition into Spain! Thus, after having fomented the war in that unhappy country, had they abandoned it to its fate! In another season of the year not a man of them would have escaped; now, the facility of breaking up the bridges, the rapidity of the winter torrents, shortness of days, and length of nights, had favoured their retreat.”
74 “Successes of this kind made Mina dangerous in more ways than one to the invaders. Germans, Italians, and even French, deserted to him. In the course of five days, fifteen hussars came over with their arms and horses, and fourteen foot soldiers.”—Life of Mina.
75 “The Bivouac.”
76 “Many of the guerilla leaders were accompanied in the field by females, who, as is not unfrequent in camps, wore male attire. These, after a time, habituated to danger, became very daring, frequently fighting amongst the foremost, on which circumstance most of the tales of the bands being commanded by Amazons had their origin.”—Jones.
77 “In this pursuit the Corregidor of Cervera was taken attempting to escape with the enemy; a man who had joined the French, and, with the malevolence of a traitor, persecuted his own countrymen. He had invented a cage in which to imprison those who did not pay their contributions, or were in any way obnoxious to him: it was so constructed as to confine the whole body, leaving the head exposed to be buffeted and spit upon; and sometimes this devilish villain anointed the face of his victim with honey to attract the flies and wasps. ‘To-morrow,’ said Eroles in his despatches, ‘the Señor Corregidor will go out to parade the streets in this same cage, where the persons who have suffered this grievous torment may behold him: Discite justiciam moniti, et non temnere Divos!’ The capture of this man was worth as much, in the feelings of the people, as all the preceding success.”
78 “Various explanations have been offered of this name. One account says, that upon finding his family murdered by the French, he smeared his face with pitch, and made a vow of vengeance. Another, that he was so called because of his swarthy complexion. But in the account of his life, it is said that all the inhabitants of Cashillo de Duero, where he was born, have this nickname indiscriminately given them by their neighbours, in consequence of a black mud, called pecina, deposited by a little stream which runs through the place; and the appellation became peculiar to him from his celebrity.”—Southey.
79 Southey.
80 “He himself was in the most imminent peril, a party of hussars having surrounded him: and one of them aimed a blow which he had no other means of avoiding but by stretching himself out upon his horse. The horse at the same moment sprang forward and threw him; he recovered his feet and ran; the horse, whether by mere good fortune, or that, in the wild life to which Mina was reduced, like an Arab he had taught the beast to love him, followed his master, who then lightly leaped into his seat, and, though closely pursued, saved himself.”—Life of Mina.
81 “The French attacked Mina a few days after his exploit before Estella, near Arcos. His inferiority in numbers was compensated by his perfect knowledge of every foot of the ground, experience of his officers in their own mode of warfare, and his confidence in all his followers. After an action which continued nearly the whole day, he drew off in good order, and scarcely with any loss, having killed and wounded nearly four hundred of the enemy.”—Life of Mina.
82 Abridged from “The Bivouac.”
83 “Before the further actions of the British are narrated, a few pages will be well bestowed to recount the heroic, but unconnected efforts of resistance made by the Spaniards themselves, of which the siege of Zaragoza stands foremost. Immediately after the repulse of the French in the preceding summer, Palafox directed the execution of various defensive works, which, thrown up in haste, and executed with greater zeal than judgment, gave more the appearance than the reality of additional strength to the place; yet, in the defence of them, Palafox added much to his previously high fame,—this second defence being far more arduous than the former; as thirty-six thousand men were employed in the attack, and such a provision of artillery and stores brought against the town, as rendered success certain. From the day succeeding the unfortunate action at Tudela, constant skirmishing and small affairs of posts took place, whilst the French were bringing up the supplies for the attack; which having accomplished, the siege commenced on the 20th December, by the assault and capture of the outposts of the Torrero and Casa-blanca; and by an attempt to lodge in the suburbs on the left of the Elbro, from which, after several hours’ fighting, and a dreadful slaughter of the Spaniards, the French were ultimately repulsed. On the 10th January a violent bombardment began, and frequently three thousand shells were thrown into the devoted town in twenty-four hours. On the 26th, fifty-five pieces of heavy ordnance battered the newly-raised works of the enceinte, and quickly formed a practicable breach: the French vigorously assaulted it the following morning, and, after a desperate resistance, gained the summit; where, however, they could not maintain themselves, as the citizens, from behind an interior retrenchment, kept up an incessant fire, and every moment sallied forth and fought hand to hand with the troops and workmen endeavouring to form the lodgment. In these fierce encounters, women and priests were observed among the foremost and most courageous; and openly to contend with such enthusiasm was hopeless. The besiegers, therefore, confined themselves to the slow but certain operations of the sap, and by its insidious advances on the 6th, penetrated into the principal street, named the Corso, where the buildings are of great solidity. Then the conflict assumed the greatest degree of obstinacy—each house became a citadel, and required to be separately attacked; mining was the art employed, and the courage of the unpractised Arragonese failed before the skill of their more experienced antagonists. They nevertheless made the most surprising efforts: when forced from one room, they renewed the combat in the next; and frequently, when driven inch by inch out of a building, Palafox, by a desperate and bold offensive movement, recovered it, and the enemy had the same resistance a second time to overcome. But courage alone is of little avail against courage and science united: daily and hourly the French made some advance; and when exertion was most required, a pestilential disorder, arising from the number of the unburied slain, broke out among the defenders, causing far more havoc than the sword. At last the heroic Palafox himself sickened, and affairs became desperate. Still the constancy of these dauntless Spaniards remained unshaken; and a priest of the name of Ric, by his personal example and the enthusiasm he inspired, directed the defence of the few remaining streets with undiminished bravery; and at last, on the 20th February, after thirty thousand citizens had buried themselves under the ruins of their houses, he, by firmness of conduct, forced Marshal Lannes to promise good treatment to the survivors.
“The garrison, fifteen thousand in number, marched out, and laid down their arms, after a resistance of fifty-two days open trenches, twenty-three of which were a war of houses. The town, on entering it, presented a dreadful and melancholy spectacle; entire districts of it were demolished by repeated explosions, and presented merely a mass of ruins, thickly spread over with mutilated limbs and carcasses; the few houses which fire and the mine had spared, were riddled by shot and shells; their interiors were cut through with communications, the walls loopholed, the doors and windows barricaded, and the streets blocked up with numberless traverses. The dirt, corruption, and misery attending the crowding together of more than one hundred thousand souls into a city calculated for only forty thousand, with all the hardships attendant on a long siege, had generated a frightful epidemic, more relentless than the sword.
“In the midst of the ruins and bodies with which the streets were filled, were observed here and there crawling along a few inhabitants, pale, emaciated, and cast down, who seemed on the point of following their dead comrades whom they had been unable to remove. From an enumeration made at the commencement and at the termination of this extraordinary and terrible siege, it has been ascertained that in fifty-two days, fifty-four thousand individuals perished; being two-thirds of the military, and the half of the inhabitants or refugees. The loss of the besiegers did not exceed three thousand. * * * * *
“In no place would they have imagined themselves so secure as in Zaragoza itself, which had been so wonderfully defended and delivered, and which they believed to be invincible through the protection of Our Lady of the Pillar, who had chosen it for the seat of her peculiar worship. During the former siege, prints of that idol had been distributed by women in the heat of action, and worn by the men in their hats both as a badge and an amulet. The many remarkable escapes and deliverances which had occurred were ascribed not to all-ruling and omnipotent Providence, but to the immediate interference of the Magna Mater of Zaragoza.
“Palafox himself had been trained up with more than common care in the superstition of the place; he and his brethren in their childhood had been taken every day to attend mass in the Holy Chapel where the image was enshrined, dressed at such times in the proper costume of the Infantes, as a mark of greater honour to the present goddess. An appearance in the sky, which at other times might have passed unremembered, and perhaps unnoticed, had given strong confirmation to the popular faith. About a month before the commencement of the first siege, a white cloud appeared at noon, and gradually assumed the form of a palm-tree; the sky being in all other parts clear, except that a few specks of fleecy cloud hovered about the larger one. It was first observed over the church of N. Lenora del Portillo, and moving from thence till it seemed to be immediately above that of the pillar, continued in the same form about half an hour, and then dispersed. The inhabitants were in a state of such excitement, that crowds joined in the acclamation of the first beholder, who cried out, ‘a miracle!’ and after the defeat of the besiegers had confirmed the omen, a miracle it was universally pronounced to have been, the people proclaiming with exultation that the Virgin had by this token prefigured the victory she had given them, and promised Zaragoza her protection as long as the world should endure.”—Southey.
84 “In all this view of the case, the loss of the bridge of Amarante is a great misfortune, and is the greater from the manner in which it was lost. Our friend says, it was carried by the French making two false attacks on the right, under cover of which they mined the barricade on the bridge, which was very strong, and blew it up in the morning at daylight; threw a column over it, which surprised the Portuguese asleep; and they were unable to blow it up as was intended. The French carried every thing before them.”—Wellington’s Despatches.
“To call off the attention of the Portuguese guard, some twenty men were stationed to keep up a fire upon the intrenchments, so directed as not to endanger the sappers, who had volunteered for the real service of the hour. It was a service so hopeful and hazardous as to excite the liveliest solicitude for its success. The barrel was covered with a grey cloak, that it might neither be heard nor seen, and the man who undertook to deposit it in its place wore a cloak of the same colour. The clear moonlight was favourable to the adventure, by the blackness of the shadow which the parapet on one side produced. In that line of darkness the sapper crept along at full length, pushing the barrel before him with his head, and guiding it with his hands. His instructions were to stop if he heard the slightest movement on the Portuguese side: and a string was fastened to one of his feet by which the French were enabled to know how far he had advanced, and to communicate with him. Having placed the barrel, and uncovered that part where it was to be kindled, he returned with the same caution. Four barrels, one after the other, were thus arranged without alarming the Portuguese. The fourth adventurer had not the same command of himself as his predecessors had evinced. Possessed either with fear, or premature exultation, as soon as he had deposited the barrel in its place, instead of making his way back slowly and silently along the line of shadow, he rose and ran along the middle of the bridge in the moonlight. He was seen, fired at, and shot in the thigh. But the Portuguese did not take the alarm as they ought to have done; they kept up a fire upon the entrance of the bridge, and made no attempt to discover for what purpose their intrenchments had been approached so closely.
“Four hours had elapsed before the four barrels were placed; by that time it was midnight, and in another hour, when the Portuguese had ceased their fire, a fifth volunteer proceeded in the same manner with a saucissonA fastened to his body: this he fixed in its place, and returned safely. By two o’clock this part of the business was completed, and Laborde was informed that all was ready. Between three and four a fog arose from the river and filled the valley, so that the houses on the opposite shore could scarcely be discerned through it. This was favourable for the assailants. The saucisson was fired, and the explosion, as Bouchard had expected, threw down the intrenchments, and destroyed also the apparatus for communicating with the mine. The French rushed forward: some threw water into the mine, others cleared the way; the fog increased the confusion into which the Portuguese were thrown by being thus surprised: they made so little resistance that the French lost only nine men.”—Southey.
ASaucisson is a pipe or hose filled with gunpowder, which reaches from the chamber of the mine to the gallery. It is used for firing mines, bomb-chests, &c. &c.
85 “Our arrival at the camp was announced by a general discharge of artillery, upon which an immense number of torches were made to blaze up, and we passed the entire Spanish line in review by their light. The effect produced by these arrangements was one of no ordinary character. As the torches were held aloft, at moderate intervals from one another, they threw a red and wavering light over the whole scene, permitting, at the same time, its minuter parts to be here and there cast into shade; whilst the grim and swarthy visages of the soldiers, their bright arms and dark uniforms, appeared peculiarly picturesque as often as the flashes fell upon them. Then there was the frequent roar of cannon, the shouldering of firelocks, mingled with the brief word of command, and rattling of accoutrements and arms, as we passed from battalion to battalion; all these served to interest the sense of hearing to the full as much as the spectacle attracted the sense of sight. Nor was old Cuesta himself an object to be passed by without notice, even at such a moment and under such circumstances as these. The old man preceded us,—not so much sitting on his horse as held upon it by two pages,—at the imminent hazard of being overthrown whenever a cannon was discharged, or a torch flared out with peculiar brightness; indeed his physical debility was so remarkable, as clearly to mark his total unfitness for the situation which he then held. As to his mental powers, he gave us little opportunity of judging; inasmuch as he scarcely uttered five words during the continuance of our visit; but his corporal infirmities alone were at absolute variance with all a general’s duties, and shewed that he was now fit only for the retirement of private life.
“In this manner we passed about six thousand cavalry, drawn up in rank entire, and not less than twenty battalions of infantry, each consisting of perhaps from seven to eight hundred men. These formed but one portion of the army, the rest being either at the bridge of Arrobispo, or in position along the Tagus; and they were all, with a few exceptions, remarkably fine men: speaking of them in the aggregate, they were little better than bold peasantry, armed partially like soldiers, but completely unacquainted with a soldier’s duty. This remark applied fully as much to the cavalry as to the infantry. The horses were many of them good, but their riders manifestly knew nothing of movement or discipline; and they were, as well on this account as on the score of a miserable equipment, quite unfit for general service. The artillery, again, was numerous, but totally unlike, both in order and arrangement, to that of other armies; and the generals appeared to have been selected according to one rule alone, namely, that of seniority. They were almost all old men; and except O’Donaju and Largas, evidently incapable of bearing the fatigues or surmounting the difficulties of one hard campaign.
“The place at which we paid this visit, and witnessed these events, was called Casa del Puertos; where the head-quarters of the Spanish army were established in a wretched hovel. We alighted here after the review had ended, and as soon as we entered, Cuesta, who seemed quite overpowered by fatigue, retired to rest; but he returned again at eleven o’clock to supper, and sat with us till past midnight. He sat, however, as he always did under similar circumstances, in profound silence, neither seeking to take a share in the conversation, nor, apparently at least, paying the slightest attention to it.
“After a secret conference between Cuesta and Sir Arthur ended, dinner was announced; and we sat down, at three o’clock, to about forty dishes, the principal ingredients in which were garlic and onions. Our meal did not occupy us long; and on Cuesta retiring, as was his custom, to enjoy his siesta, we mounted our horses, and rode out into the camp. By this means we were enabled to see more of the regiments separately than we had seen during the torch-light review. We saw, however, nothing which served in any degree to raise our opinion of the general efficiency of our allies; and we returned to our host at a late hour, more than ever impressed with the persuasion, that if the deliverance of the Peninsula was to be effected at all, it must be done, not by the Spaniards, but by ourselves.”—Lord Londonderry.
86 “I find General Cuesta more and more impracticable every day. It is impossible to do business with him, and very uncertain that any operation will succeed in which he has any concern. O’Donoju expresses himself to be heartily tired of him, and has declared that he will quit him at the first moment he is unsuccessful. He has quarrelled with some of his principal officers; and I understand that all are dissatisfied with him, for the manner in which he has conducted his operations near this place.
“He contrived to lose the whole of yesterday, in which, although his troops were under arms, and mine in march, we did nothing owing to the whimsical perverseness of his disposition; but that omission I consider fortunate, as we have dislodged the enemy without a battle, in which the chances were not much in our favour. His want of communication with his officers of the plan settled with me for the 22nd, and his absence from the field, were the cause that we did the French but little mischief on that day; and of these circumstances his officers are aware.”—Wellington’s Despatches.
87 Lord Londonderry’s Narrative.
88 These celebrated regiments were then raw battalions—and both afterwards immortalized themselves, the “Faugh a balloghs” (87th) at Tarifa; the Rangers (88th) as the crack regiment of “The Fighting Third.”
89 Joseph Buonaparte nominally commanded, but there were three marshals on the field, beside General Sebastiani; namely, Jourdan, Victor, and Mortier.
90 Between the British and French, even in military duty, the courtesies of society were respected, and an interchange of kind and gentlemanly civilities was not unfrequent, as will be evidenced by the following anecdotes:—
“While Hasparen was the head-quarters of the fifth division, the pickets of both armies avoided every appearance of hostility. Each occupied a hill, with sentries about two hundred yards apart. The French on one occasion pushed forward their videttes, and seemed as if they designed to trespass on the neutral ground. The captain of the English picket reported this encroachment, and received orders not to allow it. On the following morning, he observed that the French vidette had been advanced about fifty yards, and he thought it most advisable to demand an interview with the French captain of chasseurs. A peasant was despatched, and returned with a message, that the commandant would wait upon the British officer immediately; and, in a few minutes, the parties met on the neutral ground. The Briton stated the orders he had received and explained, that, to avoid so lâche a proceeding as to fire upon a vidette, he had solicited a meeting with the brave chasseur. The Frenchman expressed himself in the most flattering terms, and begged that the hussar might point out a situation which would be agreeable to him. A thorn bush, about one hundred yards behind the spot the French vidette was posted upon, was mentioned as equally advantageous for the security of the French picket; while it would be such as the hussar was permitted by his orders to allow. The chasseur gave orders accordingly, the vidette was placed at the very spot which was recommended, and the Frenchman, having expressed his satisfaction at the interview, produced a bottle of cogniac; two or three officers on each side now joined the party; a happy termination to the war was drunk; and the captain, whose name was (we think) Le Brun, said, he trusted that it would not be the fate of war to bring into collision the parties who had met in so amicable a manner.”
Again. “I have known several instances of right feeling evinced by the enemy, worthy of gentlemen who are above turning into individual strife the quarrels of the two countries. While the light division was at Gallegos, some greyhounds belonging to an officer strayed into the enemies’ lines, and an opportunity was found, by means of the first flag of truce, to request their being returned. The answer was favourable, stating that they should be sent in on the first opportunity. A day or two after the enemy made a reconnoissance, and when their skirmishers were thrown out, the greyhounds were seen in couples in the rear, and on the first carbine being fired, they were let slip (the dogs of war?), and came curveting through the whistling balls to their old masters.”—Recollections by a Subaltern.
There seemed to have existed between these noble armies an honourable confidence, that was often tried and never violated.
A descriptive passage of the advance across the Pyrenees runs thus:—“We perceived, not twenty yards off, a wounded voltigeur extended on the ground, and a young comrade supporting him. The Frenchman never attempted to retreat, but smiled when we came up, as if he had been expecting us. ‘Good morning,’ he said; ‘I have been waiting for you, gentlemen. My poor friend’s leg is broken by a shot, and I could not leave him till you arrived, lest some of these Portuguese brigands should murder him.—Pierre,’ he continued, as he addressed his companion, ‘here are the brave English, and you will be taken care of. I will leave you a flask of water, and you will soon be succoured by our noble enemy. Gentlemen, will you honour me by emptying this canteen. You will find it excellent, for I took it from a portly friar two days ago.’ There was no need to repeat the invitation. I set the example, the canteen passed from mouth to mouth, and the monk’s brandy vanished. The conscript—for he had not joined above a month—replenished the flask with water from a spring just by. He placed it in his comrade’s hand, bade him an affectionate farewell, bowed gracefully to us, threw his musket over his shoulder, and trotted off to join his regiment, which he pointed out upon a distant height. He seemed never for a moment to contemplate the possibility of our sending him in durance to the rear; and there were about him such kindness and confidence, that on our part no one ever dreamed of detaining him.”—The Bivouac.
Again. “From the 3rd until the 12th of July the two armies remained in presence of each other, encamped on the sides of a river, which at times is a formidable sheet of water, but which was then little more than an insignificant stream. Nevertheless, although both armies kept their guards on their respective sides of the water, and that the movements of each were cautiously watched, not one life was lost, nor one shot fired by either army.
“Indeed, so different from hostility was the conduct of both nations, that the French and British lived upon the most amicable terms. If we wanted wood for the construction of huts, our men were allowed to pass without molestation to the French side of the river to cut it. Each day the soldiers of both armies used to bathe together in the same stream, and an exchange of rations, such as biscuit and rum, between the French and our men, was by no means uncommon.”—Reminiscences of a Subaltern.
The reverses which attend even successful warfare occasionally require its rigours to be softened. The French and English felt this—and those who had the misfortune to be prisoners or wounded, received the greatest care circumstances would allow, and had baggage or money conveyed to them from their friends with strict fidelity. The tables of the commanding officers were open to their captives—their wounds were carefully dressed—and in some cases their escape connived at. A parole of honour insured the fullest liberty to the giver; but when it was not required or was refused, the prisoners were subjected to the least possible restraint consistent with security, and treated with gentlemanly attention.
“During three days that some British officers were at Castel Legos as prisoners of war, with a very slender guard, indeed almost nominal, they were treated by General Villatte with the utmost kindness. He sent dinner to them from his own table, with abundance of wine. His aide-de-camp and brother-in-law, Captain Cholet, visited them twice each day, to see that they wanted for nothing; and two, and sometimes three, surgeons visited them (by order) twice a day to dress their wounds. In fine, the greatest possible kindness and attention were shewn to them; and even their escape, on the night of the 31st of August, was easily effected, if not connived at, as the French retired without insisting on the officers being taken away, although carts had been provided.”
But a noble instance of an enemy’s humanity remains to be recorded—and with a similar instance of humane feeling displayed to a friend and not an enemy, we shall close these anecdotes.
“When the assault on St. Sebastian failed, and our troops retreated to the trenches, the enemy advanced beyond his defences, or clustered on the ramparts, shouting defiance, and threatening a descent in pursuit. To check this movement, an animated fire of round and grape was opened from our battery, the thickest of which fell on a particular part of the breach where lay a solitary grenadier of the Royals, shot through both legs, and unable to extricate himself from his awfully perilous situation. His fate appeared inevitable; when a French officer stepped forward, walked coolly through the hottest of our fire, lifted his wounded enemy in his arms, and bore him off, himself unhurt.”
The subsequent history of Colonel St. Angelo, as the gallant Frenchman was named, is curious, and instances the vicissitudes of fortune to which a soldier is exposed. On the fall of the fortress he was sent a prisoner to England, but, as his humanity well deserved, he was instantly liberated and sent home. On his arrival in Paris, Napoleon, having been apprised of his gallant conduct, promoted him to a regiment on service in the Peninsula. Thither he repaired—joined his new regiment, and in an attack on our posts was a second time made prisoner. Thus, as a prisoner he had visited England—had resided in Paris—been presented to the Emperor—promoted to a regiment—and made a prisoner again—and all within the space of six weeks from the taking of St. Sebastian!
The following interesting anecdote is thus told by Mr. Grattan:—“Nearly at the opening of the battle of Salamanca, a considerable body of the enemy’s tirailleurs pressed forward to that part of the ridge occupied by the third division, and immediately in front of the 88th regiment, the light infantry company of which, commanded by Captain Robert Nickle, was ordered to drive back this force: he did so in the most gallant manner; but the enemy could ill brook such a defeat, the more annoying, as it was witnessed by the whole division, as also by a considerable portion of one of the enemy’s corps d’armée. A reinforcement, commanded by an officer of distinction, rushed forward to redeem the tarnished honour of their nation, while some of the battalion-men of the Connaught Rangers, seeing the unequal contest their light infantry company were about to be engaged in—for the French were upwards of one hundred to sixty of ours—hastened to take a part in the fray. The detachment of the 88th lay behind a low ditch, and waited until the French approached to within a few yards of them; they came on in gallant style, headed by their brave commanding officer, who was most conspicuous, being several paces in front of his men. The soldiers of the two armies, posted at a distance, and lookers-on at this national trial, shouted with joy as they beheld their respective comrades on the eve of engaging with each other. But this feeling on the part of the French was of but short duration, for at the first fire, their detachment turned tail, and were what they themselves would term ‘culbutés,’ leaving their brave commandant, with many others, mortally wounded behind. Captain Robert Nickle ran up to his bleeding opponent, and rendered him every assistance in his power. He then advanced alone, with his handkerchief tied on the point of his sword, which he held up as a token of amity, and, thus re-assured, some of the French soldiers returned without their arms, and carried away their officer with them. They were delighted with the considerate conduct of Captain Nickle, and embraced our men on parting.”—Reminiscences of a Subaltern.
“The terms of mutual respect in which the British and French soldiers held each other, and the friendly intercourse it frequently led to, have been noticed by every writer on the Peninsular war. Nor was this confined to out-post duty only—the soldiers engaged on which seemed by a tacit agreement, and as a point of honour perfectly understood on both sides, to have agreed to avoid the unnecessary destruction of life; and, as far as consistent with duty, perhaps a little beyond what was strictly so, to testify the respect with which they had inspired each other. The officers of the two armies were also not unfrequently thrown into situations where they had the opportunity of evincing similar feelings. Of this an instance comes to the writer’sB recollection, as happening, among others, at the battle of Fuentes d’Onoro. On the morning of the 5th, when the French made their attack upon the right of our position, the writer of this note was at the time in conversation with an officer of a picket of the enemy in his front, where there was no prospect of the lines being immediately engaged; seeing the state of things which then ensued, after a mutual exchange of civilities, both parties retired to their respective posts, and were soon after engaged in warm conflict.”
The following anecdote is highly honourable to the Duke of Belluno:—When Victor entered the townC he found some of the wounded, French and English alike, lying on the ground in the Plaza. After complimenting the English, and observing that they understood the laws and courtesies of war, he told them there was one thing which they did not understand, and that was how to deal with the Spaniards. He then sent soldiers to every house, with orders to the inhabitants immediately to receive and accommodate the wounded of the two nations, who were lodged together, one English and one Frenchman; and he expressly directed that the Englishmen should always be served first.
91 “The Bivouac.”
92 “As the weather was dreadfully hot, and it was impossible to know how long we should occupy this ground, orders were given to bury the men who had fallen the night before and in the morning attack, who were lying around the hill interspersed with its living defenders.
“The entrenching tools were thus employed; and it was curious to see soldiers burying their fallen comrades, with cannon-shot falling thickly around and in the midst of them, leaving it a probable chance that an individual might actually be employed in digging his own grave.”
93 “The enemy instantly rallied, followed them, and were so confident of victory, that their officers were heard to exclaim, ‘Allons, mes enfans, ils sont touts nos prisonniers.’”
94 “The Bivouac.”
95 “On comparing a great number of marches, it appears that an army of forty thousand men requires about eight hours to traverse, in average weather, a distance of fifteen miles, which may be called an average military day’s march.”—Thiery.
British troops have always been celebrated for the style and endurance with which they move.
“The marching past certainly afforded the best opportunity of observing the troops (those of the army of occupation) of the different nations in close contrast. As regards the infantry, it may be asserted without boast, that the British were acknowledged to move the best. The Grand Duke Constantine was heard to exclaim, Les Gardes marchent comme des Dieux!”—Review of the Army at Paris.
96 “The path which leads from Arzabispo, through the pass of Messa d’Ibor, into the great road from Almarez to Truxillo, Merida, and Badajoz, had been represented to us as wholly impassable for artillery. We found it extremely bad, no doubt, but we nevertheless continued to drag our guns along, and by dint of extraordinary exertions reached Torradilla.”—Lord Londonderry.
97 “This they did, not as armies usually retreat, but by utterly dispersing, and again uniting at one particular point of rendezvous, which, previous to their rout, had been determined upon.”—Lord Londonderry.
98 “Every day now added to the distress of the besieged. Their flour was exhausted—wheat they had still in store, but men are so much the slaves of habit, that it was considered as one great evil of the siege that they had no means of grinding it: two horse-mills, which had been erected, were of such clumsy construction, that they did not perform half the needful work; and the Geronans, rather than prepare the unground corn in any way to which they had not been accustomed, submitted to the labour of grinding it between two stones, or pounding it in the shell of a bomb with a cannon-ball. For want of other animal food, mules and horses were slaughtered for the hospital and for the shambles; a list was made of all within the city, and they were taken by lot. Fuel was exceedingly scarce, yet the heaps which were placed in cressets at the corners of the principal streets, to illuminate them in case of danger, remained untouched, and not a billet was taken from them during the whole siege. The summer fever became more prevalent; the bodies of the sufferers were frequently covered with a minute eruption, which was usually a fatal symptom: fluxes also began to prevail.
“Augereau now straitened the blockade; and, that the garrison might neither follow the example of O’Donnell, nor receive any supplies, however small, he drew his lines closer, stretched cords with bells along the interspaces, and kept watch-dogs at all the posts. The bombardment was continued, and always with greater violence during the night than the day, as if to exhaust the Geronans by depriving them of sleep.
“There did not remain a single building in Gerona which had not been injured by the bombardment; not a house was habitable; the people slept in cellars, and vaults, and holes, amid the ruins; and it had not unfrequently happened that the wounded were killed in the hospitals. The streets were broken up, so that the rain-water and the sewers stagnated there: and the pestilential vapours which arose were rendered more noxious by the dead bodies which lay rolling amid the ruins. The siege had now endured seven months; scarcely a woman had become pregnant during that time: the very dogs, before hunger consumed them, had ceased to follow after their kind; they did not even fawn upon their masters; the almost incessant thunder of artillery seemed to make them sensible of the state of the city, and the unnatural atmosphere affected them as well as human kind. It even affected vegetation. In the gardens within the walls the fruits withered, and scarcely any vegetable could be raised. Within the last three weeks above five hundred of the garrison had died in the hospitals: a dysentery was raging and spreading; the sick were lying upon the ground, without beds, almost without food; and there was scarcely fuel to dress the little wheat that remained, and the few horses which were yet unconsumed.”—Southey.
99 “Gerona surrendered on the 10th December, after a memorable defence of six months, which places the name of the governor, Don Marian Alvarez, on a level with that of Palafox; and some particulars of his heroic conduct deserve to be recorded. The town stands low, at the confluence of the Ona and Ter rivers, which cover and protect the northern side; and on the opposite quarter the approaches are commanded by a small square fort of ninety toises exterior side, situated on a height of five hundred and fifty yards from the place called Montjuic. In this petty work, Alvarez, not having altogether five thousand men under his command, defied for three months the utmost efforts of General St. Cyr with twenty thousand French. Sixty pieces of heavy ordnance fired against the fort incessantly for twenty-two days, which, besides effecting an enormous breach, levelled all the upper works. The enemy then offered terms, which being rejected, they gave the assault, and were repulsed with loss. During the three succeeding days the besiegers’ batteries thundered without intermission, and on the fourth morning they again tried the force of arms. Several heavy columns advanced to the breach, and persisted in their attempts to ascend it with so much courage and obstinacy, that success was long balanced, and on their repulse, sixteen hundred killed and wounded remained in the ditch. After this effort, the French, finding all open attacks useless, resorted to the sap and the mine, and one entire month passed in the dispute of a ravelin, which (after several attempts to form a lodgment in it had failed) remained, as if by tacit agreement, unoccupied by either party, and all personal conflict ceased. The fire of artillery and the mine, however, gradually levelled the walls, and blew up the very interior of the place; when, there being no longer any thing worth disputing, the garrison withdrew on the 11th of August.
“The walls of Hostalrich fell shortly afterwards, an ignoble conquest to the same officer. The siege commenced on the 20th January, and the place was contested with the greatest obstinacy till the 12th May following, when the brave garrison, having consumed their last day’s food, sallied out to cut their way through the blockading corps. A large proportion nobly fell in the attempt; amongst others the heroic Don Juan de Estrada, the governor; but many hundreds restored themselves to liberty.”—Jones’s Account of the War.