Romantic Adventures of Sir Colquhoun Grant.--The Author ordered,
with a Convoy, to Brussels.--Description of the Route.--The Pass of
Roncesvalles.--Memorable Defeat of the Army of Charlemagne there.--A
sudden Attack and Repulse.--The Author arrives at Brussels, and joins
the Garrison of that Place.
Soon after our army left Badajos, the remarkable and interesting
adventures of Sir Colquhoun Grant, who was an officer in our army,
attracted general attention; and, though I did not myself learn all
the particulars I am about to relate until after my return from the
continent, they are in themselves of so interesting a nature, and so
closely connected with the success of our arms in the Peninsula, that I
trust my readers will deem these reasons a sufficient excuse for their
introduction here.
[Sidenote: ADVENTURES OF SIR COLQUHOUN GRANT.]
Intelligence had been brought to our commander that the army of
Portugal, under Marmont, was concentrating on the Tormes, and that
they were intending to attack the fortresses of Almeida and Ciudad. If
this was indeed so, it was all-important that he should immediately
march to their relief, as their garrisons and stores were far too
weak to sustain an attack or stand a siege. But, as Wellington could
not believe that the French general would take what seemed to him so
imprudent a course, he suspected that this information was only a ruse
to draw him from his position. It was absolutely necessary that he
should know the truth. Among his troops was an officer named Colquhoun
Grant. Gentlemanly and peculiarly attractive in his manners, bold even
to the utmost daring, and yet with so much subtlety of genius, tempered
with the wisest discretion, he seemed exactly fitted by nature for the
dangerous and delicate office which our commander-in-chief intrusted
to him, which was to watch Marmont’s proceedings, and, if possible,
to learn his true intentions. He secured the services of a Spanish
peasant, named Leon, whose own life it had been his good fortune to
preserve in a skirmish, and whose only sister Grant had rescued from
the guerillas, just as they were bearing her off. So grateful was poor
Leon, that he esteemed himself only too happy in being allowed to share
his master’s danger in this perilous enterprise. Having passed the
Tormes in the night, as morning was breaking, he rode boldly up to the
French camp, dressed in his own uniform and followed by his servant.
In answer to the challenge of the sentinel on duty, he informed him
that he was the bearer of a message to one of the principal officers
of the French army, and was admitted without hesitation. The wife of
this officer had accompanied her husband to Spain, and was in Badajos
at the time of its surrender. During the excesses which followed,
her house was entered by some ruffians, and she would have fallen a
victim to their rage, had it not been for the timely interference of
Grant, who rescued her from her assailants, and bore her to a place
of comparative safety. As a small memento of her gratitude, when the
army left, she wrote him a note expressing her heartfelt thanks, and
accompanied it by a valuable ring. Armed with the note and ring, he
proceeded at once to the tent of the officer, who gladly received him
as the bearer of information from his wife, and invited him to share
the hospitalities of the camp. Here he remained for three days, and,
by his adroitness in conversation, obtained exact information as to
Marmont’s object, and the preparation he had made, both of provisions
and scaling-ladders. While there, each day a Spanish peasant made his
appearance in the camp, laden with fruit for sale; and while Grant
was apparently busy in purchasing, he conveyed to him notes of his
information, which were immediately carried to Wellington. Just before
the night sentinels had taken their posts on the third evening, while
he was in earnest conversation with a number of the French officers, he
heard the low signal of the peasant outside the tent. He succeeded in
excusing his absence in such a manner as not to attract observation,
and received the alarming intelligence that he was known to be in the
French cantonments, and that a general order was even now circulating,
giving a description of his person, and commanding the soldiers to
use their utmost exertions to secure him. Guards had already been
stationed in a circle round the army, and escape seemed impossible.
Not a moment was to be lost. Leaving his horse with Leon, who was to
meet him at Huerta at daybreak, he crept past the sleeping soldiers,
and succeeded in reaching that village undiscovered. But it was now
daybreak, and the outward circle of the guards was yet to be passed.
Before him lay a deep river, fordable only at one point, and along
which videttes were posted, constantly patrolling back and forward,
meeting at the ford, while the whole battalion was engaged in the
search. Yet these difficulties did not daunt him. Leon and Grant met
at the house of a peasant, one of his agents, who had several of his
friends, wrapped in their large Spanish cloaks, ready to assist him.
They advanced towards the ford, one of them leading his horse, and
the others spreading their cloaks, as if estimating their comparative
width. Under this cover, he stole along down to the ford. Here, waiting
until the sentinels had separated their utmost distance, which was
three hundred yards, he boldly mounted his horse, and dashed into the
river. They both fired, but without success, and, without stopping to
reload, pursued him. A wood lay directly before him. This covert he
reached in safety, and was soon hid in its recesses. Here his faithful
Leon joined him, and all pursuit of both was baffled. Grant here
ascertained that the French were preparing to storm Ciudad Rodrigo,
or, at least, that they conversed freely of doing so. From this fact,
he judged it might be only a mask of their real intentions. These, if
possible, together with their numbers and the direction of their march,
he wished to discover. He therefore concealed himself in the branches
of a high tree, just where the road directs its course to the passes,
and beneath which the whole army must proceed. Here he counted every
battalion and gun, and found that their course was directed against
Ciudad. When the last soldier was out of sight, he descended from the
tree, and, entering the village they had just left, he discovered all
the scaling-ladders securely stored. He immediately wrote to Wellington
that he need have no fears for that fortress.
His next object was to discover whether Marmont was marching upon
Castello Branco or Coimbra. To reach the former place, it was necessary
to descend to the pass by a succession of ridges. He stationed himself
on one of the lowest of these, thinking that the dwarf oaks, of which
there was here a thick growth, would hide him; but, as the French
officers were descending from the ridge above, they happened to spy him
with their glasses, and despatched some dragoons in pursuit. Leon’s
lynx eyes, always on the watch, soon perceived them, and, alarming
his master, they rode forward a short distance, and then wheeled in
another direction. But now the alarm had spread, and all over the wood
the soldiers were engaged in eager search. Finding every pass beset by
their enemies, they left their horses, and fled on foot through the
thickest of the oaks. But these were not thick enough to veil them from
the officers, on the higher ridges, who, by the waving of their hats,
directed the chase. Efforts like these could not last long. Leon fell,
exhausted, and Grant refused to yield to his entreaties to leave him.
The enemy soon made their appearance, and, in despite of the earnest
entreaties and prayers of Grant, they killed poor Leon, and carried
Grant to Marmont’s tent. This general received him apparently with much
kindness, and invited him to dinner. While seated at the table, he
conversed freely with his prisoner, but closed by exacting from him a
parole that he would not suffer himself to be released by the Partidas
while passing through Spain. When Wellington discovered the capture
of this faithful servant, he offered a reward of two thousand dollars
to any one who would release him. Marmont then placed his prisoner
under a strong escort, and sent him to France. He also sent with him a
letter to the governor of Bayonne, designating him as a dangerous spy,
and recommending the governor to send him, in irons, immediately to
Paris. The gentlemanly conduct of Grant, during his journey, and his
lion-hearted bravery, so won upon the esteem of one of the officers of
his escort, that he acquainted him with the contents of the letter,
before reaching Bayonne. It was the custom for the prisoners, on
their arrival in this city, to wait on the authorities, and procure a
passport to Verdun. His friend the officer succeeded in delaying the
delivery of Marmont’s letter until these formalities had been attended
to. Grant’s object then would be to rejoin his regiment in Spain; but
he well knew that the search for him would be made in that direction.
He, therefore, resolved to go to Paris, because he judged that if the
governor of Bayonne did not succeed in recapturing him, he would,
for his own security, suppress the letter, in hopes the matter would
be no further thought of. He therefore went directly to the hotels,
and, finding that General Souham was going there on his return from
Spain, he boldly introduced himself, and requested permission to join
his party. Now, Souham had often heard of Grant, and was extremely
pleased to make his acquaintance, and of course yielded a ready assent
to his proposal. On their way, he conversed freely with him about
his adventures, little thinking that he was aiding him in one of the
most skilful of them all. While passing through Orleans, he had the
good fortune to meet an English agent, who gave him a recommendation
to another secret agent in Paris, whose assistance would be of great
use to him in effecting his final escape. When he arrived in Paris,
he took his leave of Souham, and then went directly to the house of
the Parisian agent. This gentleman received him with much kindness,
and having ascertained that no inquiry had been set on foot about his
escape, furnished him with a sum of money, and recommended to him to
take rooms in a very public street, and to attend and be interested
in the amusements of the city. He even appeared at the theatres, and
frequented the coffee-houses, as his friend was connected with the
police, and would give him seasonable warning, in case he should
be suspected. Several weeks passed away in this manner, when it so
happened that an American--one of his fellow-lodgers who was just
preparing to return home--was taken suddenly ill, and died. The evening
before his death, as Grant was sitting by his side, his passport was
brought to him, and laid upon a table near. It occurred to Grant, that,
in case of his death, he might possess himself of this passport without
injury to any one, which he accordingly did, and proceeded at once
with it, unquestioned, to the mouth of the Loire. He was delighted to
find here a ship just ready to sail for America. He went on board and
engaged his passage, and was told that the ship would sail by noon.
An hour had not elapsed, however, when a despatch was received from
Paris, informing the captain that important reasons existed why he
should delay his journey. The captain, annoyed by this interference
with his views, mentioned it to his passengers; and Grant, seeing at
once that he was in danger, threw himself upon the captain’s mercy,
by frankly explaining to him his real situation. This officer kindly
entered at once into his plans, advising him to assume the character
of a discontented sailor. Grant then dressed as a sailor, and, with
forty dollars in money which the captain gave him for that purpose,
went to the American consul, and deposited in his hands the money, as a
pledge that he would prosecute the captain for ill treatment, when he
should arrive in the States. In return for this, the consul furnished
him with the certificate of a discharged sailor, which permitted him to
pass from port to port, as if in search of a ship. He wandered about
thus for some days, when one day he saw a boatman sitting idly in his
boat, apparently with nothing to do. He accosted him, and, thinking
that he might be moulded to his purpose, he offered him ten Napoleons,
if he would row him to a small island which appeared in the distance,
where English ships often stopped to take in water. The boatman agreed
to do so that night. The evening was fair, and the boat made rapid
progress. Already the island rose upon their view in the distance, and
beyond it loomed up the dark masts of the English vessel which was
the harbor of safety and happiness to Grant. Already he had deemed
himself almost beyond the reach of danger, when suddenly he perceived
that the course of his guide was altered. He demanded the reason of
this, but no answer was returned. Drawing a knife from his pocket, he
was about to enforce his demand, when suddenly two men sprang up from
the bottom of the boat, where they had been concealed, and he saw that
to struggle against his fate would be useless. Still, his courage did
not desert him. He would yet be free. The dastardly boatman offered
to proceed to the island, if more money was paid him; but Grant, when
he had promised his ten Napoleons, had spent the last of his little
stock, and the boatman, notwithstanding his breach of contract,
demanded the whole. This demand, with great coolness and the utmost
resolution, was refused by Grant. One Napoleon he should have, but no
more. The boatman threatened to denounce him to the police; but Grant,
always prepared, told him, if he did, that he would at once accuse
him of aiding the escape of a prisoner of war, and would adduce the
great price of his boat as the proof of his guilt. This menace was too
powerful to be resisted, and Grant was allowed to depart unmolested.
In a few days Grant engaged a fisherman, who, with his son, pursued
his calling on the coast, to carry him to the island. The bargain was
this time faithfully performed; but fortune seemed everywhere against
him. There was not a ship at the island, and it was far too small
for him to venture to try concealment there. His next course was to
exchange clothes with the fisherman’s son, and take his place in the
boat. Having spent some time in fishing, they gradually bore off to the
south, where rumor said a large English ship-of-war was to be found.
In a few hours they obtained a glimpse of her, and were steering that
way, when a shot from a coast battery brought them to a full stop, and
a boat full of soldiers put off to board them. Hope again died away in
the heart of the adventurous traveller, at that dreaded sight; but he
would not yet despair. The boat drew near, and the fisherman, poor and
needy, had now an opportunity of enriching _himself_, by denouncing
his passenger. But the old man was true to his trust. He assured the
soldiers that Grant was his son; and, convinced of this, they only
warned him not to go out of the reach of the guns of the battery,
because the English vessel was on the coast. But the fisherman,
having given all the fish he had caught to the soldiers, told them if
he did not, his poor family would starve,--that this was their only
dependence,--and assured them that he was so well acquainted with the
coast that he could always escape the enemy. His prayers and presents
prevailed, and he was desired to wait under the battery till night,
and then depart; but, under pretence of arranging his escape from the
English vessel, he made the soldiers point out her bearings so exactly,
that when the darkness came, he lost not a moment in proceeding on
board, and the intrepid Grant soon found himself once more in safety
on her quarter-deck. The vessel soon sailed for England, and Grant was
received in London with all the popularity which his arduous services
demanded, and might now have obtained an honorable release from the
toilsome service in which he had been engaged; but he was a true
soldier at heart, and loved the toil and bustle of the camp, with all
its hardships, far better than the ease and comfort of courts. He asked
but one favor of his royal master, and this was to select a French
officer, of equal rank, who should be sent back to his own country,
that no doubt might remain of the propriety of his escape. This he
received permission to do; and he visited one of the prisons, where
the French were detained, for the purpose of making his selection.
Judge what must have been his astonishment, when the first person he
saw was the old fisherman who had so befriended him in his trouble! The
recognition was mutual; and the old man, whose heart longed for the old
familiar haunts of his childhood, out of sight of which he had never
been before, felt once more the dawn of hope in his bosom, as he saw
that face, so full of benevolence and kindness, bent on him in pitying
sorrow. His story was soon told. He and his son, venturing on the pass
which Grant had given him in return for his kindness, had ventured
out to sea in too near proximity to an English vessel. The captain,
totally unmindful of their papers, had sunk their little boat, their
only property, and brought them away to inhabit an English prison,
while his poor family was starving at home. The indignant Grant could
scarcely listen to the conclusion of the tale. He immediately obtained
their release, made them a present of a sum of money and a new boat,
and saw them once more embarked for France, blessing the happy hour
when they had shown such kindness to one so richly deserving of it. He
then returned himself to the Peninsula, and, within four months from
the time of his capture, he was again on the Tormes, watching the army
of Marmont, and only mourning that poor Leon was no longer alive to
accompany him.
Hoping that my readers will be interested in this long digression, I
will return at once to my own story.
[Sidenote: THE PASS OF RONCESVALLES.]
Before the victorious army of the allies left Badajos, Wellington
determined to send a convoy to Brussels with the treasure and spoils
found in that place. The regiments selected to form this convoy were
the 28th, the 80th, and 87th and 43d. We were to leave Badajos, and
pass through the northern part of Spain to Pampeluna, and through
the romantic gorge of the Roncesvalles to St. Jean Pied de Port, in
France, and from this place take the most direct course to Brussels.
The day before our army was to leave for Beira was the day selected
for our march. Our farewell words were soon spoken, and we were on
our way. No event of consequence had marked our course until we were
near Pampeluna. On the left of this place, near Roncesvalles, is the
beautiful valley of Bastan, one of the most fertile and delightful
valleys in Spain, and abounding in every species of plenty. From
Pampeluna to Zabieta, the road passes over a gentle ascent. From
Zabieta this ascent increases, and becomes extremely rough and
fatiguing near the village of Borquette. From this village it begins
to ascend very lofty mountains, but which are extremely fertile and
well wooded. Immediately after passing Borquette, the road ascends
a mountain, and then descends the same, when it enters upon the
memorable plain of Roncesvalles, where happened that memorable defeat
of Charlemagne, which has furnished so copious a theme for poetry and
romance. As there are few who have not heard of this celebrated pass,
perhaps the legend connected with it may not be uninteresting to my
readers.
Several Moorish chiefs, in the north-western part of Spain, had
implored the protection of this celebrated emperor, and invited him
to accept their vassalage. He at once assembled an army, crossed the
Pyrenees, penetrated as far as Saragossa, and received the submission
of all the neighboring lords. News of threatened hostilities on the
Rhenish frontiers caused him to hasten his march onward. Dividing his
army into two bodies, he advanced, in person, at the head of the first
division, leaving all the baggage with the rear guard, which comprised
a strong force, and was commanded by some of the most renowned of
his chieftains, among whom was Roland, the nephew of Charlemagne.
Mounted on heavy horses, and loaded with a complete armor of iron, the
soldiers pursued their march through the narrow passes of the Pyrenees,
without suspecting the neighborhood of an enemy. The king himself,
with his first division, passed from these intricate woods and narrow
defiles unmolested; but when the rear body, following leisurely at a
considerable distance, had reached this wild and lonely valley, the
woods and rocks around them suddenly bristled into life, and they were
attacked on all sides by the perfidious Gascons, whose light arms,
swift arrows, and knowledge of the country, gave them every advantage
over their opponents. In the first panic and confusion, the Franks were
driven down to the bottom of the pass, embarrassed by their arms and
baggage. The Gascons pressed them on every point, and slaughtered them
like a herd of deer, singling them out with their arrows from above,
and rolling down the rocks upon their heads. Never wanting in courage,
they fought until the last moment, and died unconquered. Roland and
his companions, the twelve peers of France, after innumerable deeds
of valor, were slain with the rest; and the Gascons, satiated with
carnage, and rich in plunder, dispersed among the mountains, leaving
Charlemagne to seek fruitlessly for vengeance.
During the lapse of many centuries, tradition has hung about this
famous spot, and the memory of Roland and his companions has been
consecrated in a thousand shapes throughout the country. When we
entered this famous pass, we could but recall the legends connected
with it. The mountains rose high and towering to the skies on
either side. Far up their rocky sides we could see mountain paths
descending, while here and there a shelf would exist that might give
a standing-place to a body of men. Huge crags seemed to bid defiance
even to the fleet steps of the mountain goat, while deep caverns opened
their mouths on every side, giving shelter to the hordes of banditti
which always infest those regions. The stroke of Roland’s sword upon
the rocks was pointed out to us by our guides; while, just beneath, we
noticed patches of the beautiful little wild-flower of the Pyrenees,
which is called the casque of Roland. I know of no fitter place for
the assault which took place here; certainly none which could give the
assailants a better advantage. But, ominous as the scenery appeared,
we crossed this famous pass in safety, and emerged, with gladdened and
lightened hearts, on the plain beyond, where rises the beautiful and
venerable abbey of Roncesvalles, whose moss-clad walls, which have felt
so heavily, and yet sustained so well, the hand of time, are covered
with mementos of its famous hero. On the further side of this plain,
the road, after passing over a small elevation, reaches the foot of
that tremendous mountain, called Mount Altobiscar, which separates
France from Spain. The ascent to this is very steep and laborious,
and almost impassable for carriages. A ravine descends from this into
French Navarre. Our party were leisurely descending into this ravine,
hardly anticipating danger, when suddenly our advance guards were
stopped by the report of a musket. The alarm was in a moment given,
and our arms prepared. On the huge rocks which rose above us a body of
men were seen descending, and in a moment they were upon us, preceding
their arrival by rolling huge stones down from the mountain, which
killed a number of our men. In a moment we had formed ourselves, as far
as the position of the ground would admit, into two squares; and, as
they drew near, we discharged our muskets into the midst. Nearly all
the foremost fell; but their places were soon supplied by others, who
came on with still more force. Their subtle chief was very active in
the affray. Fortunately, we had gained a part of the ground where there
was a wide shelf, which enabled us to meet the attack more in a body,
while the road to it was narrow, and the ground rough. Consequently,
they fell fast before our fire. A few minutes only the combat lasted,
and yet, on our own side, a hundred men had fallen. Fifty were killed
outright; and in several places men and horse had died simultaneously,
and so suddenly, that, falling together on their sides, they appeared
still alive,--the horse’s legs stretched out as in movement, the
rider’s feet in the stirrups, his bridle in hand, the sword raised to
strike, and the expression of the countenance undistorted, but with
such a look of resolution and defiance as gave to it a ghastly and
supernatural appearance. The loss of the assailants was still greater
than ours. Seeing that it would be impossible to attain their object,
which was, doubtless, to possess themselves of our baggage, they
retired in good order; and, as we considered our charge too valuable to
be left in such a spot, we did not attempt to pursue them.
[Sidenote: ARRIVAL AT BRUSSELS.]
No other incident of interest occurred in our route, and we found
ourselves, on the 3d of June, in safety in Brussels. The next day we
reported our arrival to the commanders there; and, on the 5th, our
charge was delivered up, and we were inspected, and then ordered to
join the garrison which was stationed in Brussels. Here I remained,
only performing garrison duty, until that great battle which decided
the fate of Europe, and sent the French emperor to his last and lonely
home on the barren rock of St. Helena.