The Author, with his Regiment, leaves Gibraltar, for
Tarifa.--Dissensions between the Spanish and English
Officers.--Battle of Barossa.--Retreat of the French.--Suffering
of the Pursuing Army.--Guerillas.--Don Julian Sanchez.--Juan
Martin Diaz.--Xavier Mina.--Continued Privations of the British
Army.--Adventures of the Author in Search of Food.--Arrival
of the Commissariat with Provisions.--Extravagant Joy of the
Troops.--Departure of the British Army for Badajos.
Having given to my readers some slight sketches of the rise and
progress of this war previous to the time when I first became an active
participator in its scenes, I shall now continue it, with the history
of my own adventures.
In looking back through the long series of years that have elapsed
since those eventful days, there are few scenes that I can recall more
vividly than that which occurred on the morning I left Gibraltar. It
was my first experience of the kind, and, therefore, made a deeper
impression than many after scenes, which might have been far more
worthy of record than this. It was a beautiful morning, and everywhere
the troops were in motion. Horses were brought out, our baggage
prepared and sent on; the light jest and laugh and joke went freely
round, serving, in many instances, to conceal the thoughts that longed
for utterance. Farewells were exchanged, last words spoken; and,
finally, all were prepared, the word given, and our gallant little army
marched out of Gibraltar. It was truly a brilliant sight; and the
lively strains of our music contributed its share to make us forget
that we were marching into a country at all times perilous, and now
doubly so, to meet certain dangers, and, many of us, certain death.
Yet these were in the future, and lost beneath the crowd of bright
and joyous anticipations that kindled in our hearts as the last loud
cheering of our comrades died away, and the walls of the far-famed
city receded in the distance behind our onward march. Our course was
directed to Tarifa; here we had orders to wait until the forces from
Cadiz should come up. An expedition had been sent out from this city,
consisting of ten thousand men, three thousand of whom were British,
whose object was to drive the French general out of his lines. Victor,
having heard of this project, enlarged and strengthened his own forces,
which now amounted to about twenty thousand men, in Andalusia.
The allied army sailed from Cadiz on the 20th of February, for Tarifa;
but, a storm arising soon after they left, they were driven past this
port, and disembarked at Algesiras. They marched to Tarifa on the 23d,
under the command of General Thomas Graham. Here we met; and, as we
were more recently from home than these troops, we had many questions
to answer, and much information both to give and receive. Before night,
however, we had all our places assigned to us, and were now ready for
our march. But the Spanish General La Pena had not yet arrived; and
so we remained encamped here until the 27th, when he came up, with
his forces; and to him General Graham, for the sake of unanimity,
ceded the chief command. All day we were busy in preparations for our
morrow’s march, expecting at its close to come within a short distance
of the enemy’s outposts. Early the next morning, our whole army was in
motion. We moved forward about twelve miles, over the mountain ridges
that descend from Ronda to the sea; and then, having learned that the
enemy were only four leagues distance, we halted, for the purpose
of reorganizing the army. The command of the vanguard was given to
Lardizabal, that of the centre to the Prince of Anglona, while General
Graham had charge of the reserve, consisting of two Spanish regiments
and the British troops. The cavalry of both nations, formed in one
body, was commanded by Colonel Whittingham. The French army were
encamped near Chiclana, narrowly observing the movements of the allied
armies, and determined, at all events, to hold complete possession of
the country.
The next day, March 2d, the vanguard of our army stormed Casa Viejas.
Having gained this small place, and stationed here a regiment, we
continued our march on the 3d and 4th.
[Sidenote: THE ALLIED ARMY.]
Early in the morning of the 5th, as the advanced guards of our cavalry
had proceeded a short distance from the main army, they suddenly came
upon a squadron of French troops. Unfortunately for them, several
stone fences and enclosures prevented an immediate attack, so that
the French had time to form into a square, and received their charge
with great coolness and intrepidity. Their square was unbroken,
although numbers had fallen on both sides. A second charge was equally
unsuccessful, and the colonel of our cavalry was mortally wounded. Our
men then judged it most prudent to fall back upon the main army, and
no attempt was made to follow them by the enemy. An anxious look-out
was instituted, but the foe did not again make his appearance, and at
nine o’clock the same morning our commander took up his position on the
heights of Barossa.
The hill of Barossa is a low ridge, creeping in from the coast about
a mile and a half, and overlooking a high broken plain. On one side
of this plain rise the huge coast cliffs, while the other is skirted
by the deep forest of Chiclana. Directly in front, there lies a light
pine wood, beyond which rises a long narrow height, called the Bermeja.
There were two ways by which this might be reached; the first was
through the woods, while the second was a narrow road directly under
the coast cliffs.
I have already alluded to the fact, that, although the English and
Spanish were fighting under the same banner, there was a great want of
unanimity of feeling and opinion as to the course which ought to be
pursued in ridding their country of their common foe. Nowhere, in the
history of the war, was this more apparent than at the battle whose
history I am about to relate. The deep-seated pride of the Spanish
made them unwilling to acknowledge or yield to the superiority of the
British, or hardly to allow that they were at all indebted to them.
A modern traveller tells us that, in a recent history of this war,
which was, not long since, published in Spain, the British are not
even mentioned, nor the fact of their assistance at all alluded to. It
was impossible for two nations so unlike in their customs and manners,
so different in language, religion, and education, to be so closely
associated together as they were obliged to be, without occasions of
dispute constantly occurring, which would, probably, have terminated in
open rupture, had not the discipline of war prevented.
[Sidenote: DISSENSIONS.]
The fact that our gallant general had ceded the chief command to
the weak and imperious Spanish commander had occasioned no little
dissatisfaction among our men; while, from the conditions required of
him by Graham, we may judge that that general himself did not pursue
this course because he judged La Pena his superior in military tactics.
These conditions were, that his army should make short marches; that
they should be kept fresh for battle, and that they should never
approach the enemy except in concentrated masses. Although the Spanish
general had pledged his word of honor that these conditions should be
fulfilled, how much attention he paid to them may be judged from the
fact, that, on the day but one preceding this, we had marched fifteen
hours, through bad roads; and, after a short rest, had occupied
the whole night in our march to Barossa. Before the troops had all
arrived, or had any time for rest or refreshment, La Pena commanded
the vanguard to march against San Petri, which lay about four miles
distant. A detachment of the Spanish army, under Zayas, had, only two
days before, commenced an intrenchment at this point; but had been
surprised by the French, and driven back, so that the enemy now held
possession of all the outposts down to the sea. But a short time had
elapsed, after the departure of the vanguard, when we were startled
by the roar of the artillery, whose rapid discharge, together with
the quick volleys of musketry, showed us that a sharp engagement had
already taken place. Lardizabal,--far more worthy of command than
his superior,--notwithstanding the unfavorable situation in which he
found himself placed, succeeded in forcing his way through the enemy’s
troops, leaving three hundred men dead on the field of battle, and in
effecting a junction with Zayas. Graham now endeavored to persuade
La Pena to occupy the heights of Barossa, as a superior position to
the Bermeja. The Spanish general not only refused to listen to his
representations, but sent an immediate order to General Graham to
march through the wood to Bermeja with all the British troops. This
order he obeyed, although it was in opposition to his own better
judgment, leaving only two detachments at Barossa, under Major Brown,
to guard the baggage. He would have left a stronger force, had he
not supposed that La Pena would remain in his present position, with
his own troops, and would thus assist those detachments, in case of
an attack. But scarcely had the British entered the wood, when La
Pena, without the least notice to his colleague, with his whole army,
took the sea road under the cliffs, and marched to San Petri, leaving
Barossa crowded with baggage, within sight of the enemy, and guarded
only by four guns and five battalions.
[Illustration: SURPRISE OF THE ENGLISH UNDER GEN. GRAHAM, ON THE
HEIGHTS OF BAROSSA.]
[Sidenote: VICTOR’S ATTACK.]
No sooner did Victor, the French general, observe its defenceless
state, than he advanced with a rapid pace, and, ascending behind the
hill, drove off the guard, and took possession of the whole stores
and provisions of our army. Major Brown, finding his force wholly
inadequate to face the enemy, slowly withdrew, having immediately
despatched an aid-de-camp to inform General Graham of the attack. Our
army had then nearly reached the Bermeja; but, as soon as the messenger
arrived with the news, our general saw at once the necessity of taking
the direction of affairs himself. Orders were immediately given to
retrace our steps as rapidly as possible, that we might assist the
Spanish army in its defence. Judge, then, of the astonishment of our
general, on reaching the plain, at the view that presented itself!
One side of the heights was occupied by the French, while the Spanish
rear-guard was flying, with their baggage, in great confusion, on
the other. On one side of us lay the cavalry of the French, and, on
the other marching to the attack was a large body of troops, under
Laval. “Where is La Pena?” was the first exclamation of our commander,
as, casting his eye rapidly around, he could nowhere see the least
trace of him. It was impossible that he could have been defeated. The
cannonade would have been heard, or at least some fugitives have taken
the direction of our army. Slowly the conviction forced itself upon
his mind that he had been deserted. A general burst of indignation ran
along our lines; but short time was allowed for feelings like these.
Only one alternative existed,--a hasty retreat, or an immediate attack.
It need hardly be said that Graham chose the latter.
Ten guns immediately opened their fire upon Laval’s troops, and were
promptly answered back by the artillery of the French. No time was
given to the British to form with any attention to regiments; but,
hastily dividing themselves into two masses, they rushed to the attack.
The charge on the left was, indeed, a furious one, for we felt that
conquest or death was the alternative. It was bravely met, however, on
the part of the French. After the first discharge of artillery, the
soldiers pressed rapidly onward, and were soon mingled with the foe in
fierce and deadly conflict. The front ranks of the French were pressed
back upon the second line, which, unable to withstand the shock, was
broken in the same manner, and scattered in much confusion, only the
chosen battalion remaining to cover the retreat.
[Sidenote: BATTLE OF BAROSSA.]
Ruffin, who commanded the enemy on the right, had stationed his troops
just within the wood, where they awaited, in perfect order, the
division under Brown, who rushed with headlong haste to the contest.
When they had nearly reached the wood, they discharged their musketry.
Nearly half of Brown’s detachment fell at the first fire; yet,
nothing daunted, the remainder maintained their ground, until another
detachment came to their aid. Then, mingling close in the dreadful
combat, they pressed together to the brow of the hill, without either
party gaining a decided advantage. Here the contest continued, with
more bravery than before. The issue still remained quite doubtful, when
the British, retiring a short distance, again rushed to the attack.
Ruffin and Rousseau, the French leaders, both fell, mortally wounded,
and the French were obliged to retire, leaving three of their guns in
possession of their enemies. Discomfited but not disheartened, they
withdrew again, re-formed, and rushed to the attack. But they found
no slumbering foe. Our guns were well manned. Their fire was reserved
until the enemy were close at hand, and then they were allowed to tell
upon that living mass. The execution was terrible. Closely and rapidly,
discharge followed discharge. Again and again were they summoned to the
attack; but the lines had hardly closed over their dying comrades, when
another volley would again send confusion and death among the advancing
ranks. Victor saw it was useless to struggle longer. The trumpet
sounded, the contest stopped, and in less than an hour the English were
again undisputed masters of Barossa.
And where, during this conflict, were the Spanish troops, in whose
cause the British were so freely lavishing, not only treasure, but
their own lives? Scarcely three miles away, the report of every round
of musketry reached La Pena’s ears. He knew that his ally was placed
under great disadvantages; yet he could look idly on, not knowing,
scarcely caring, apparently, how the contest should be decided. In
vain did many of his brave troops mount their chargers, and wait only
for the word of command to rush upon the enemy. He listened neither
to the voice of honor nor to the entreaties of his officers, nor to
the ill-repressed murmurings of the soldiery. No stroke in aid of the
British was struck by a Spanish sabre that day; although one or two
regiments, unable longer to contain their indignation, left without
orders, and came up in season to witness the defeat of the French.
And thus terminated the attack on Barossa. Scarcely two hours had
passed from the first alarm before the French were retreating beyond
our reach, for our troops were too much exhausted by their twenty-two
hours’ march, and their still longer fast, to think of pursuing. Yet,
short as the conflict was, the terrible evidences of its fatality
lay all around us. Fifty officers, sixty sergeants, and more than
eleven hundred British soldiers, had fallen, while two thousand of the
enemy were either killed or wounded. Six guns, an eagle, two generals
mortally wounded, and four hundred prisoners, fell into the power of
the English. La Pena’s conduct during this battle was complained of
by our commander, and the Spanish cortes went through the forms of
arresting him; but he was soon after released, without investigation,
and published what he called his justification, in which he blamed
Graham severely for his disobedience of orders.
[Sidenote: THE FIELD OF VICTORY.]
When the last of the enemy had disappeared in the distance, the troops
were all summoned to the field of battle. We collected there, and gazed
around with saddened hearts. Four hours ago, and there was not one, of
all that now lay lifeless on that bloody field, whose heart did not
beat as high as our own, whose hopes were not as brilliant; and yet,
their sun had now set forever! I know of no sadder scene than a field
of battle presents soon after the conflict, even though the glorious
result may have filled our hearts with joy. When the roll is called,
and name after name uttered without response, it cannot but awaken
the deepest sensibility in the heart of the survivors. And then the
hasty burial of the dead, and the hurried sending off the wounded, the
surgeon’s necessary operations, and the groans of the sufferers, all
make us feel that these are the horrors of war. Before the battle is
the rapid marching and counter-marching, and the enlivening strains of
martial music, the encouraging words of the officers,--more than all,
the excitement which must exist in such a scene,--and all these serve
to elevate and sustain the spirits. During the contest the excitement
increases, until all sense of fear and danger is lost. But one thing
is seen--the foe;--but one object exists--to conquer. When all these
have passed away, and there is no longer aught to excite, then the eye
opens on stern and dread reality, and we realize what we have escaped,
and the pain and suffering ever attendant on such scenes. There is
something awfully trying to the soul, when the last sad rites are being
performed for those so lately buoyant in life and health,--especially
when we meet with the corpses of those we have known and loved. I
have seen many affecting instances of such recognitions. Among others
that I might name, is that of a French captain of dragoons, who came
over after the battle with a trumpet, and requested permission to
search among the dead for his colonel. His regiment was a fine one,
with bright brass helmets and black horse-hair, bearing a strong
resemblance to the costume of the ancient Romans. Many of our own
soldiers accompanied him in his melancholy search. It was long before
we found the French colonel, for he was lying on his face, his naked
body weltering in blood. As soon as he was turned over, the captain
recognized him. He uttered a sort of agonizing scream, sprang off his
horse, dashed his helmet on the ground, knelt by the body, and, taking
the bloody hand in his own, kissed it many times, in an agony of grief.
He seemed entirely to forget, in his sorrow, that any one was present.
We afterwards learned that the colonel had, in his youth, done him a
great service, by releasing him from the police when evil company had
led him to the commission of some crime. It was his first act of the
kind; and gratitude to the colonel led to an immediate enlistment in
his corps. From that hour he had been to the captain as a father, and
it was through his influence that he had attained his present rank
in the army. The scene was truly an affecting one; and it was with
feelings of deep sympathy that we assisted him in committing the body
to the earth.
[Sidenote: REJOICINGS OVER THE VICTORY.]
Our gallant commander remained on the field of battle all that day;
and when all the last sad duties were performed, and as many of the
commissariat mules as could be found were gathered in, we marched
from the scene of our late victory, and took up our position behind
the Isla. The news of our victory was received in England with much
joy, and our own regiment, the 28th, was spoken of with peculiar
honor. These contests in Spain called forth much newspaper praise, and
awakened the lyre of many a poet in the halls of old England. Perhaps
the following lines from Southey, written on this battle, may be
acceptable to the reader:
“Though the four quarters of the world have seen
The British valor proved triumphantly
Upon the French, in many a field far famed,
Yet may the noble island in her rolls
Of glory write Barossa’s name. For there
Not by the issue of deliberate plans,
Consulted well, was the fierce conflict won,--
Nor by the leader’s eye intuitive,
Nor force of either arm of war, nor art
Of skilled artillerist, nor the discipline
Of troops to absolute obedience trained,--
But by the spring and impulse of the heart,
Brought fairly to the trial, when all else
Seemed like a wrestler’s garment thrown aside,
By individual courage, and the sense
Of honor, their old country’s and their own,
There to be forfeited, or there upheld,--
This warmed the soldier’s soul, and gave his hand
The strength that carries with it victory.
More to enhance their praise, the day was fought
Against all circumstance; a painful march
Through twenty hours of night and day prolonged
Forespent the British troops, and hope delayed
Had left their spirits palled. But when the word
Was given to turn, and charge, and win the heights,
The welcome order came to them like rain
Upon a traveller in the thirsty sands.
Rejoicing, up the ascent, and in the front
Of danger, they with steady step advanced,
And with the insupportable bayonet
Drove down the foe. The vanquished victor saw,
And thought of Talavera, and deplored
His eagle lost. But England saw, well pleased,
Her old ascendency that day sustained;
And Scotland, shouting over all her hills,
Among her worthies ranked another Graham.”
[Sidenote: GREAT PRIVATION.]
The brilliant success gained on the heights of Barossa was but the
prelude of other victories. The star of Napoleon, so long in the
ascendant, had begun to decline in the horizon. Obliged to draw off
many of his troops, those that remained felt the want of his guiding
hand. Division reigned in the councils of his generals; and the
British leader, ever ready to take advantage, and ever on the watch
for opportunity, saw his favorable moment, and followed it up. The
French had retreated from Portugal, followed at every step by the army
of the English. After the battle of Barossa, Graham had withdrawn
from the command of our army, and joined that of Wellington, while
Sir Thomas Picton took his place. We remained for a number of days
near our position, while these changes were taking place, and then
orders arrived that we should proceed at once to the mountains of the
Sierra Morena, to assist in harassing the retreat of the French. We
had scarcely commenced our march when our provisions began to fail,
owing to the conduct of the Portuguese government, who would not supply
their troops with provisions; and so they were unable to continue the
pursuit, while numbers were perishing for want of food. Our generals
could not see their allies suffering thus, and our own supplies were
shared with them, and we were all put upon short allowance. Half a
pound of bread, and half a pound of salt pork, was all that we received
for a day’s provision. And we were ascending mountains covered with
woods and deep forests, infested by guerillas, who often fell upon
and murdered our men, if they strayed away from the ranks. To prevent
this was impossible; for, if there were provisions in the country, men
in our starving condition would not fail to obtain them; but scarcely
anything could be found, at this season. The French army were also
suffering for want of food, and, as they preceded us in their retreat,
they either devoured or destroyed everything that could sustain life.
The poor peasants on their route fled from their homes, and shrunk
equally from French and English, for they well knew that either would
equally deprive them of the little they possessed. The sufferings of
the peasantry were truly terrible. In the third day of our march, a
scene occurred which I shall never forget. We were slowly toiling up
a huge mountain, so exhausted, from fatigue and want, that we could
hardly proceed. When about half-way to the summit, we perceived before
us a large house. Some of our men hastened to it at once, hoping to
procure some provision. The slight fastenings of the door soon yielded
to their eager haste, and they were about to rush in, when their steps
were arrested by the misery the scene presented. The floor was covered
with persons in a state of actual starvation. Thirty women and children
had already expired; and, scattered around among the corpses, lay
fifteen or sixteen more wretched beings, still breathing, but unable
to speak. Hungry as we were, the hearts of the soldiers were moved at
the scene, and our next day’s provision was cheerfully contributed to
rescue them from death. But this kindness could only delay their fate.
They were too weak to seek for more food; they had scarcely strength to
eat the little we could offer them; and it is more than probable that
every one perished.
The next day my comrade, who had been fast failing, declared himself
unable to proceed. He was a fine fellow,--one that I had known in
Ireland, and to whom I was much attached. Feeble as we were, we could
not leave him behind, and we carried him a short distance; but he
soon died. Permission was given us to carry him a little way from the
camp to bury him. We hollowed out a shallow grave, wrapped him in his
blanket, and left him to his fate. Near the spot where we interred
him was a small house, which we entered, and were fortunate enough to
obtain a little wine. While in the house, we heard a scream, as of
fear. We hastened out, and saw several of our soldiers running swiftly
towards the camp, from the place where we had interred our comrade.
They had dug him up, for the purpose of robbing him of his blanket. As
they were ripping it open, the knife entered the flesh, and he began
to struggle. It was this that had so frightened them. We went to the
poor fellow, finished removing his blanket, and found that he was
still alive. Want and fatigue had produced a state of insensibility
resembling death, from which he had been aroused by the pain of his
wound. We shared with him the little wine we had obtained, which so
revived him that he was able to accompany us back from his own funeral.
He soon after recovered, and returned home to Ireland.
[Sidenote: SINGULAR INCIDENT.]
[Sidenote: EFFORTS TO OBTAIN FOOD.]
A day or two after this occurrence, I left the company, with one of my
companions, and went higher up the mountain, in search of wild pigs,
which are sometimes found there. This was absolutely against our
orders; but, as we were literally starving to death, the consequences
of disobedience, and the dangers of our journey, weighed but little
in the balance. I agreed to search one side of the mountain, while he
ascended the other, and we were to meet at the top. When about half-way
up the mountain, I was stopped by a ball whizzing close past my ear.
Thinking that it might be my comrade, who did not see me, I turned,
and, looking around, soon saw the green feather of my assailant,
projecting over a rock. At this I was somewhat alarmed; for he was so
completely hid behind the rock that I could not fire at him, and I knew
that he was reloading his musket. In a moment more he fired again, but,
fortunately for me, his musket flashed in the pan. There was still only
his feather in sight; at this I fired, and struck it. I then reloaded
as hastily as possible, and advanced cautiously up the mountain, hoping
to get sight of him. As I was coming round the point of the rock, he
sprang forward, laid down his gun, spread out his arms, and exposed
himself to my shot. I knew, by his motions, that he had no ammunition,
and as I had no desire to kill him, I fixed my bayonet on my gun, as
if I would make a charge, and then advanced towards him, in a friendly
manner. But, when I was within twice the length of my gun from him,
he picked up his musket and attacked me. Darting back to avoid his
bayonet, I fired my own gun, and he fell to the ground. I examined his
knapsack, and found that it bore the mark of the 95th rifle brigade
of our own division. He was a guerilla, and had doubtless killed the
man whose knapsack he bore. I examined his canteen, and found, to my
great surprise, a pint of Jamaica brandy. In my exhausted state, this
was a discovery which gave me the greatest pleasure. I took some of
it, and, feeling quite refreshed, pursued my search for game. I had
not gone far before I discovered a small pig, which I succeeded in
shooting. This I carried with me to the top of the mountain, where I
found my comrade awaiting me. He had been less successful than myself,
having found nothing. He asked me how I had fared. I told him that
I had shot an old hog and a little pig, at which he expressed great
pleasure. I then showed him the contents of the canteen, which he
joyfully shared with me; and, having related my adventure, we retraced
our steps to the camp. We concealed our treasure as well as we were
able; but, notwithstanding all our care, the first person we saw, on
our return, was the adjutant. He came up to us, and demanded where we
had been. Upon the mountain, in search of food, was my reply. He told
me, if he should report us, as he was required to do, we should be
shot for disobeying orders. I answered, that it made little difference
with us; it would only hasten affairs, as it was impossible to survive
much longer without food. “Did you find any?” he asked. We showed him
our prize. He would gladly have purchased it of us; but food, in our
condition, was far more precious than money, and we refused his offer
of a doubloon, with the assurance that five would be no temptation
to part with it. But, on arrival at our quarters, as we were cutting
up the pig, gratitude for his kindness, in not reporting us, so far
overcame our selfishness, that we sent him a quarter of it. The
remainder made our mess a fine meal; and we certainly were never in a
better condition to estimate the value of food than when we devoured
the little pig of the Morena.
[Sidenote: GUERILLAS.]
I have alluded to the annoyance by guerillas, or, as they were
sometimes called, Partidas. These were principally, at first, Spanish
peasants, who, unable to present any efficient force against the
French, and unwilling to submit to them, threw themselves into
the mountains, and, being well acquainted with all the passes and
hiding-places, did the French much damage, by cutting off their
communications, robbing their stores, and murdering every one who dared
to stray from the main army. As the war proceeded, their numbers were
enlarged by all those who were weary of the restraints of law;--every
robber that feared a jail, or could break from one; every smuggler
whose trade had been interrupted,--and there were thousands of these,
as there still are, in Spain; every one who was weary of the restraints
of his life, and sought for excitement; and all idlers who preferred
the wild and reckless daring of these troops to the drill and watch
of the army, were found either as associate or chief in these bands.
They soon became regularly organized, chose their chiefs, and had
watchwords, by which they could obtain a safe pass all over the
country. They were professedly our allies, but they were almost as
much a terror to us as to our foes. They proved, however, invaluable
to our army, as a means of communication with each other, and as spies
on the movements of our enemies. It was impossible for the French to
communicate with each other at all, except by sending strong escorts,
and these were often cut off; while, on our side, news could be sent
with almost the rapidity of telegraph, and this undoubtedly was a
great advantage to us. The chiefs of these bands were often obliged
to procure subsistence and treasure for themselves, by robbing their
own countrymen; and, indeed, one of the principal causes of the sudden
growth of these bands was the hope of intercepting the public and
private plate, which was being carried from all parts of Spain to
be coined into money. Yet, though most of the bands were worthless
characters, there were some among them of more noble spirit. Some were
actuated by revenge--some by a gallant, enterprising spirit--and a few
by an honest ambition to serve their country.
Our troops often met with many adventures with these foes; and many
were the weary hours, in our toilsome marches, that were beguiled by
the recital of their hair-breadth escapes, or their own wonderful
adventures. Some of these were of so much interest that I cannot
refrain from a desire to recount a few to my readers.
[Sidenote: A GUERILLA’S VENGEANCE.]
Don Julian Sanchez was the son of a farmer, on the banks of the Guebra.
The little cottage where he resided, with his parents and one sister,
was the abode of happiness and plenty. In an evil hour, the French army
passed that way. Their cattle were driven away and slaughtered, and
their little harvest, just reaped, became the prey of the plunderers.
Terrified and despairing, Julian fled, with his parents and sister,
to the woods. But his parents were old, and, before they could reach
the shelter of the wood, they were overtaken, carried back to the
cottage, and murdered, in cold blood, on their own hearthstone. Julian
and his sister concealed themselves in a cave; but the next day he
left her there, and went to see if he could obtain any trace of his
parents. Directing his course to their little cottage, he found their
murdered corpses. Revenge and anger, in a spirit like Julian’s, was
deep, not loud. He shed no tear, uttered no complaint,--but calmly
proceeded to inter the bodies of his parents in a humble grave. Then,
kneeling on the sod, he swore revenge on their murderers,--a revenge
which should be followed till his latest breath. He returned to his
sister; but, as he approached the cave where he had left her, what a
sight met his view! A party of the hated army were just issuing from
its precincts. The body of his beautiful sister lay on the ground
naked,--dishonored,--the victim of a vile outrage. Julian gazed for a
moment on the scene. He had no time for tears, and he had sworn to live
for revenge,--a vow which now burned itself in deeper characters upon
his soul. He turned away. A huge rock overhung the cave. He ascended
it, and, secreting himself in a little fissure where he could be heard,
not seen, he gazed for a few moments on the chief of the band, till
every line of his countenance was impressed on his soul. Then, calling
to him from the rock, he said, “You hear me, but you see me not. I am a
Spaniard, the son of those parents you murdered yesterday--the brother
of her whose corpse lies before you. You are their murderer; and I
swear, by the Holy Virgin, that I will never lose sight for one day of
your path, until my hands are imbrued in your heart’s best blood! You
may think to escape me; but remember, you shall die by my hand!”
In a moment, the troops of the French were on the rock. They searched
everywhere for the speaker, but no trace of him could be found, until,
just as they had relinquished their search, one of the number fell
dead by the blow of an unseen assassin. He was the first of the band
that fell. Months passed away. Julian had never since met his foe;
but the frequent death of his followers, and the daring exploits of
robbery that were constantly performing in his camp, often called
to mind the voice he had heard. A few months after, in battle, this
officer was attacked, and would have been killed, had not a Spaniard
saved his life, at the risk of his own. He turned to thank his
unknown deliverer, but was met with so fierce a look of hate, that he
involuntarily shrunk from it. “I desire no thanks,” said the Spaniard;
“your life is mine, and none but me shall take it.” The voice was
recognized, but its owner had glided away in the confusion. A year had
elapsed, when this officer was again sent to the banks of the Guebra,
and took up his quarters in the very house Julian’s father formerly
occupied. The first night of his stop there was enlivened by the
arrival of four of the same party who had met with him the year before.
In joyous mood, they had seated themselves around the table, and were
discussing the events of the campaign. Suddenly they were startled by a
deep voice, which the officer had cause to remember, and Julian, with
four of his associates, glided into the room. So sudden, so unexpected,
was the attack, that they had not time to grasp their swords, ere
they were pinioned and led away. Julian and the chief alone remained.
“Look at me,” said Julian; “do you know me? In this very room, a year
ago, my parents fell by your murderous hand. The stain of their blood
still remains to witness against you. In that wood lies the corpse of
my idolized and only sister. You were her assassin. You heard my vow.
Not for one day have I left your steps. Twice have I warded death from
your head; but when I saw you desecrate again this hearthstone by your
accursed presence, I knew that your time had come. Frenchman, prepare
to die!”
After the death of this man, Julian succeeded in organizing a regular
band. At the head of these, he would again and again assault the enemy,
even though they outnumbered his own band many times. Another instance
of his daring intrepidity, at a time when we were suffering for want of
provisions, and of the patience with which he followed up his designs,
deserves to be recorded. It was the custom of the French garrison to
send out their cattle beyond the walls every morning, for the purpose
of grazing, under the protection of a guard, which at once kept them
from wandering too far, and also watched the movements of the Spanish
army. Don Julian determined, if possible, to surprise the herd. For
this purpose, he concealed himself, with his band, day after day,
among the broken ground, near the river. But the guard was still too
powerful and vigilant to allow him to make the attempt. At length, as
if to reward him for his patience, fortune threw in his way, not only
the object for which he sought, but one of far more importance to him.
On a certain day, the governor of the place where the garrison was
stationed came out, accompanied by a very slender escort, and ventured
imprudently to cross the river, at the self-same spot where Julian lay
concealed. He was instantly surrounded, and made prisoner. Almost at
the same moment, the cattle, frightened by the explosion of a shell
which fell among them, ran towards the river. The guard followed, but
overtook them at such a distance from the city, that Julian thought
himself justified in making the attack. It was attended with perfect
success, and governor and cattle were conveyed in triumph to the
British headquarters.
Another of these chiefs was named Juan Martin Diaz, or the
“Empecinado.” When the news of the detention of Ferdinand at Bayonne
first reached Spain, he was engaged as a farmer. Young, ardent, and
daring, he threw aside his plough, and persuaded a neighboring youth,
only sixteen, to join him. Their first object was to procure horses
and arms. They took post upon the high road from France to Madrid,
for the purpose of intercepting the French couriers. An occasion soon
occurred. A party of six men were riding past a narrow defile. An old
woman went out and arrested the progress of the last two, by offering
them some fruit for sale. She detained them until the others were in
advance some distance; then the two youths fired from their covert, and
their victims fell. Long before the others returned for their comrades,
their horses and arms were far away. These boys were soon joined by
others, of which Juan was the chief; and, as he grew older and had more
experience, his band increased, until it numbered one thousand five
hundred men. With these he performed the most daring exploits, cutting
off supplies, and intercepting convoys. By his intelligence, activity,
and bravery, he was enabled to do the enemy much mischief. In vain were
armies sent to surround his band. They concealed themselves in their
fastnesses, and baffled them all, until his very name became a terror
to the French armies. He gave no quarter to the conquered; and such was
his discipline of his followers, and his generosity in the division of
the spoils, that he became the idol of his band, and they were willing
to undertake any exploit at his bidding.
[Sidenote: DARING EXPLOIT OF JUAN MARTIN DIAZ.]
A convoy was conveying, in a carriage, a lady, a relative of Marshal
Moncey. The coach was escorted by twelve soldiers, in the centre of two
columns of six thousand each, about a mile asunder. The Empecinado,
with only eight of his followers, was concealed close to the town of
Caraveas. He allowed the leading column to pass, then boldly rushed
upon the convoy, put to death the whole of the escort, seized and
carried off the carriage; and, when the alarm was given, Martin and
his prize were in safety in the mountains, where he effectually eluded
the search made after him. He saved the life of the lady, who was
sent to his own house, and had every attention paid her. This convoy
was a very rich prize of money and jewels. This he divided among his
men, reserving only a small share for himself. He often met with very
narrow escapes. On one occasion, he was unhorsed and disarmed, and the
sword of his opponent passed through his arm, and entered his side.
His wound seemed to give him new courage. He suddenly sprang at his
foe, and, seizing him by the neck, dragged him to the ground. He fell
with him, however, but continued to keep uppermost. The other refusing
to surrender, the Empecinado held him fast with one hand, while with
the other he snatched up a stone, and beat him to death. On another
occasion, he was nearly made prisoner by some Spanish troops in the
pay of the French; and, finding every other hope of escape impossible,
he threw himself down an immense precipice, rather than fall into
their hands. His fall was broken by the projecting limbs of trees,
covered with very thick foliage. He was discovered here by one of his
followers, and taken home. He recovered finally, after suffering a
severe illness, which for some time prevented his taking the field.
[Sidenote: EXPLOITS OF XAVIER MINA.]
The most distinguished of these courageous leaders was Xavier Mina. He
was a student at Pamplona when the revolution broke out. His father
was a considerable land-owner, and deputy for one of the valleys of
Navarre. Some act of injustice, practised towards his father, had
driven young Xavier to desperation. His resolution was taken. He threw
aside his studies, went to his native village, and, summoning around
him the young men of his acquaintance, related his wrongs, and urged
them to join him in his career of revenge. Moved by his enthusiastic
address, twelve of his companions volunteered to join him. Arming
themselves with muskets and ammunition, they sought the mountain
passes, and maintained themselves, while awaiting opportunities of
action, by subsisting on the sheep belonging to Mina’s father. His
first adventure was to surprise a party of seven artillery-men, who
were carrying two pieces of cannon and a quantity of ammunition from
Saragossa to Pamplona. When the news of this success reached his
village, others were encouraged to volunteer. His next exploit was,
with his band of twenty, to attack a general officer, who was escorted
by twenty-four foot and twelve horsemen. Stationing his men in a narrow
defile, he gave orders to fire as they were descending, each one having
selected his man. Twenty of the escort were thus levelled to the earth,
before they had any intimation of their danger. The general was one of
the number. The rest of the escort were made prisoners, and a large sum
of money fell into Mina’s hands. This he distributed among his men,
advising them to send part to their families, and retain no more than
would suffice for the expenses of their own interment, exposed as they
now continually were to death. The men were thus raised in their own
estimation, and in that of their countrymen, wherever this was told;
and volunteers soon presented themselves in abundance, attracted by a
success which was reported everywhere with the usual exaggerations.
He received, however, only such persons as he regarded as a valuable
acquisition to his band. These wore a red ribbon in their hats, and a
red collar to their jackets. In Arragon, a band of fifty robbers were
adding to the miseries of that unhappy country. Having heard of their
atrocities, Mina turned his course thither. He succeeded in surprising
them. The greater part were killed on the spot, and the remainder sent
as prisoners to Tarragona. Rations were voluntarily raised for his
people, wherever they were expected, and given as freely at one time
as they were paid for at another by the spoils of the enemy. It was in
vain that the French made repeated efforts to crush this enterprising
enemy. If his band were dispersed, it was only to unite, and, by
striking a blow in some weak point, render themselves more formidable
than before.
A large number of prisoners, and an amount of treasure, were to be
sent from Vittoria to France. Twelve hundred men accompanied it as an
escort. At the Puerto de Arlaban, they were attacked by the seemingly
omnipresent Mina, of whose absence, in another part of the country,
they thought themselves assured. They were entirely routed; but,
unfortunately, two hundred of the prisoners were slain in the contest.
Information of the journey of this escort had been procured from a new
recruit in Mina’s band, who had his own object to accomplish by it.
He was a gentleman of some standing, who was engaged to a beautiful
Spanish lady. Her affections had been stolen from him by a wounded
French officer, quartered in her father’s house. He had recovered, and
was now taking his bride home to France. The former lover had sworn
a deep revenge, and, unable himself to accomplish this object, had
enlisted the powerful Mina on his side. When the band returned to their
haunts, they carried with them six ladies, who were guilty of the same
crime, viz., having accepted, as husbands, French officers. Their fate
was, indeed, a sad one. The contest for them had been fierce in the
extreme. They had seen their protectors, one by one, fall around them,
fighting until the last breath in their defence; and now they were left
helpless to the mercy of their conquerors. A mock trial was instituted.
They were found guilty of aiding the enemies of their country, and all
of them executed.
But Mina was not always successful. Not long after this, he had
attacked and overcome a party of French. As he was conveying his
prisoners to Robres, he was betrayed by one of his own men, and was
attacked as suddenly as he had fallen upon others. His band were
scattered, many of them slain, and he escaped, with great difficulty,
with his own life. One week afterward, he appeared in the Rioja, with
five thousand men, and attacked a Polish regiment, which was retiring
to France. They were entirely routed. Mina enlarged his band by an
accession of every one of the Spanish prisoners whom he had liberated,
and filled his coffers with the booty. One million of francs fell into
his hands, besides the equipages, arms and stores of all kinds, and a
quantity of church plate. Two weeks after, he captured another convoy,
going from Valencia to France. General Abbé now bent his whole force to
disperse his troops. For three days in succession he followed Mina’s
troops to their haunts, and each day defeated them; so that, on the
last day, Mina was obliged again to flee alone for his life. Yet, not
discouraged, he struggled on with various success, until at length he
fell into the hands of the French, who sent him a prisoner to France.
Great rejoicings were made when the capture of this formidable enemy
was reported; but they soon found that they had little reason for
joy, for his place at the head of the band was taken by his uncle,
Francisco, who proved himself, if possible, even more formidable than
his nephew. His various adventures would well fill a volume, and it is
easy to see the interest they must have possessed when related around
the bivouac fire on those mountains, where no one knew but that any
moment might bring his army around them.
But to return to my own history. We were still pursuing our weary
course, sometimes coming within sight of our enemies, and sometimes
marching and counter-marching, when our leaders thought best to avoid
a battle. We were still suffering the pangs of hunger, our principal
food being a supply of ground bark. The soldiers continued to wander
away, and often escaped, with their lives, from imminent peril. One of
our men observed, at a little distance from the camp, a commotion in
the bushes, which he thought was occasioned by some wild animal; and he
hastened out to secure it. Creeping cautiously along under the bushes,
his course was suddenly arrested by a bullet flying over him. Having
passed around a rock which concealed him from the camp, he hastily
jumped up, and looked round. He soon spied a woman sitting near a small
spring, with a child in her arms, as he thought; but, concluding that
it was best to be on his guard, he crept cautiously near her, and soon
saw that she was thoroughly armed, and what seemed to be a child was
something which certainly did not possess life. The shot had evidently
been fired by her, and she was watching for his reäppearance. He fired,
and killed her. On taking her arms, he discovered that it was one of
the guerillas, dressed in female apparel, and evidently intended for a
decoy. Judging from articles found around him, all our troops had not
been so successful as was our soldier in discovering the disguise.
[Sidenote: ADVENTURES IN SEARCH OF FOOD.]
There are not many villages on these mountains, and but few scattered
habitations. The next day after the adventure I have just related, a
small party of us again left in search of food. We soon found, in a
beautiful valley, a small house. We knocked for admission. There was
no answer; so, without further ceremony, the door was broken down, and
we entered. A fire was found burning on the hearth, showing, however
desolate the hut might now be, it had not long wanted inhabitants. We
found, however, no food, and were turning away, quite disappointed,
when one of our number spied an open hole in the garden. We found
there, to our great delight, two pigs of wine, which our near approach
had probably disturbed its owners in their attempts to conceal. These
pig-skins were to us quite a curiosity. The skin is taken as entire as
possible from the animal, and turned so that the hair will be inside,
and then preserved in such a way as to make it capable of holding wine.
These are the common wine-casks of the country. I have often seen loads
of them; and so perfectly do they retain their resemblance; that any
one unaccustomed to the sight would say, at once, that they were loads
of dead porkers. We took our wine, and returned as rapidly as possible
to the lines, to share our good fortune with our comrades.
[Sidenote: DEPARTURE FOR BADAJOS.]
A day or two after this, as we were encamped on one of the hills which
overlooked the country to a great distance, a movement on the plains
below attracted the attention of our officers. Scouts were instantly
sent out, to learn the nature of it. Animation again appeared in the
faces of our men; for, even if it were the enemy, we all felt it would
be far better to win an honorable death in an open battle, than to
perish daily, as we were doing, by hunger and murder. It was not long
before our messengers returned, spurring their horses, and joy in every
feature of their countenances. As soon as they came within hearing,
they flung up their caps in the air, shouting, “Relief, relief! our
commissariat is coming! It will soon be here!” The excitement among
our men was intense. They could hardly be restrained from rushing down
immediately to break upon the long-expected, long-delayed supplies.
When, at length, they came near, and we saw the baggage-wagons,
accompanied by a strong escort, the ill-repressed enthusiasm of the
men burst forth in one long, deafening shout, that reverberated from
the tops of those mountains for miles around. The scene then presented
by our camp was, indeed, an exciting one. Officers were engaged on all
sides in distributing provisions to the starving troops, and these in
administering cordials and refreshments to their sick comrades. Many
of the sick, who were apparently near their end, revived and soon
recovered. The same escort brought information that the destination
of Wellington’s army was now to be changed, and our division of it
was directed to proceed immediately to Badajos. This, too, was joyful
news; and, with the morrow’s dawn, everything was ready for motion.
Tents were struck, our baggage stored, and order everywhere restored.
Once more we had an aim, an object; and, with this, it was easy to
become again docile and obedient. I shall never forget the sensation of
pleasure that throbbed in our hearts, as our last column defiled down
the mountain, and we bade farewell to those haunts, which had been so
nearly fatal to us all. Our course was immediately directed to Badajos,
and, on the 3d of May, we sat down three leagues from its walls.