Intention of the Spanish Government respecting our winter quarters—March
to Vittoria—Enemy oblige us to go round—The rear of the Legion
engaged—Baggage divided from it—Commencement of the plunder at
Bilboa—Arrival at Castro—Enemy supposed to be in the vicinity—We
remain at Castro—March the next day—Mountainous route—An accident—The
pass of Las Goras—March to Bonia—My company placed in the
advance—Orders to prepare for cavalry—Doubts and fears—A narrow
escape—Arrival at Breviesca—Breviesca—Head Quarters—My old
Patrone—Hints to revolutionists—System of regular drill begun—Riflemen
drilled collectively—I practice my company in sham fighting—Provosts
and hardship—Lay in a winter stock of sickness—Legion paid up to
November, 1835—Last payment—March of death—We march for Vittoria—Pass
of Pancorbo—The dead Patrone—Approach to Vittoria—My old
recollections—The 45th—Halt about three miles from the city—Spanish
troops come out to meet us—Triumphant entry into Vittoria—The veteran
Colonel.
IN pursuance of the intention of the Spanish Government that the
auxiliaries should winter and complete their military discipline in
Vittoria or Breviesca, on the 30th of October, 1835, the Legion, in
conjunction with a division under Espartero, commenced its march to
those places. It was well known that at this period the enemy were
anticipating our movements and intended destination, and learning that
our route would be on the Durango road, they posted themselves in great
strength to give us a warm reception. The formidable attitude of the
Carlists, however, induced General Evans to abandon this direct line of
march upon Vittoria, not more than twelve leagues distant, and to take a
more circuitous, and almost pathless route, of sixty leagues, over a
difficult and mountainous district.
The main body of the Legion started about six in the morning, but the
whole had not quitted till late at noon, when closed in upon their rear
by the Guerillas and Carlist peasantry. They became separated from the
baggage, which, but for the contiguity of Bilboa, would have been all
taken. The consequence was, that almost the whole returned, and was
supposed to have been placed under the care of the British Consul and
the Alcalde of the city, who, in conjunction with a few others, actively
employed, may be said to have originated the plunder which subsequently
devoured almost all the luggage of the Legion officers; quantities
without lists, or any regular accounts, having been indiscriminately
heaped in stores, and thence as carelessly embarked for Santander.
Meanwhile, on the second day’s march, we came to Castro, where, as we
expected to meet the enemy, my company was selected to form a rear-guard
in the event of the Carlists attacking our rear. Near the town, as
expected, a number of the Guerillas, who were always on the look-out,
fired on our rear sections, and a poor fellow of the Westminster
Grenadiers, who through fatigue had straggled from his regiment, was
shot through the thigh. I instantly started a few old soldiers after
them, who very soon put them to flight. This was the first time that I
had heard the whistle of a Carlist ball. I then placed the wounded
soldier on my pony till we arrived at Castro, where we halted for the
night. We found this place to be a wretchedly filthy hole; a sea-port on
the Bay of Biscay, and then occupied by two regiments, and some
artillery of the Queen’s troops.
At daybreak the next morning, we left Castro, and after an advance of
five or six miles, a Spanish officer who had been riding rapidly to
overtake us, informed the General that the enemy were again
advantageously posted, and in great strength, awaiting our arrival a few
miles further on. On this intelligence we were again ordered to the
right-about. However, my company, who were on the advance in the morning
with some Lancers, received orders from General Reid to remain where we
were, until the main body had reached the bottom of a hill, about two
miles distant; but expecting to see the Carlists fast advancing upon us,
I thought it more prudent to follow in quick time, with the Lancers
behind us. We remained for the night in the small villages round Castro.
The next day’s march was a very harassing one. Our route led over high
mountains, with scarcely a path, and almost unknown even to our guides;
however, for my own part, this was compensated for by one of the most
majestic pieces of scenery I ever beheld. The country around us was
beautifully romantic; the Bay of Biscay, from our elevated position,
appearing but a short distance off, while the clouds which encircled
that part in our view, kept circling upwards and throwing a reflection
on the serene surface of the sea, that seemed almost enchanting.
At the entrance of a small village on the hill just mentioned, the rifle
of a Sergeant Johnson, of my company, while on trail, went off, and shot
a man named Neal, the ball entering at the back and passing out at the
groin. We conducted him to a house where, for want of conveyance, we
were obliged to leave him to the mercy of the mountain peasantry; this
poor fellow, strange to say, was brother to the man who, the night of
our landing, had been shot by the sentry at Portugaletta. They were both
fine young men, and deserved a better fate.
At night, after a fatiguing march, the brigade as usual was quartered in
a damp church. The day following we proceeded on our march, but a great
deal of anxiety was experienced lest a celebrated pass (Las Goras) which
we had to advance upon, should be occupied by the enemy. About four
o’clock we arrived, but found it in possession of the Queen’s troops,
and for the first time, we bivouacked in a wood. The next morning the
harassed and jaded condition of the men was so evident, that we could
not proceed until several bullock-carts had been procured.
On the following morning we continued our march for several days, till
we arrived at the banks of the river Ebro, the scene of many of my
former campaigns. After passing the bridge the prospect became
beautifully varied, the Ebro silently meandering in its serpentine
course, through a broad and fertile valley, at the base of a chain of
mountains which, verging towards the Mediterranean, were here and there
dotted with villages and lonely cottages, the scattered husbandmen
quietly occupied in the tillage of their fields.
We still continued to advance for about fifteen miles, through a country
increasing at every turn in beauty and attraction, until we entered a
very narrow pass, surrounded on every side by stupendous and rocky
mountains, all rising so abruptly, and to such a magnificent height,
that they seemed to threaten destruction to the whole Legion as it
passed beneath.
This formidable passage could with ease be defended by a handful of men
against several thousands. The immense and natural magazines of rocks
that appeared to nod destruction to the passing stranger, might be
hurled with awful effect on troops marching below.
Early in the afternoon the Legion reached Onai, a small and very ancient
town, celebrated for its splendid and richly endowed monastery. Our
brigade was quartered for the night in the monastery, and as we entered
I observed the monks and friars apparently in great consternation,
making a hasty exit with their beds and furniture. Time and war had made
strange changes in this magnificent convent, originally built for the
religious exercises and devotional retirement of its monkish recluses,
was now turned into a barrack; its sacred silence seldom disturbed but
by the devotional hum of the prostrate “sinners,” now broken in upon by
boisterous clamour and the sacrilegious intrusion of men whose worldly
object and employment formed a strong contrast to the ascetic life of
the secluded monks.
On the 9th of November, very early, we proceeded on our line of march
towards Breviesca. An attack of the enemy’s cavalry was at this time
expected in great force, therefore the whole of the Rifles, prior to
marching, were ordered to load. Our Colonel and General Reid called me
on one side, and told me, as my company was going to take the
advanced-guard, they wished me to keep a good look out, as everything in
the shape of cavalry was sure to be our enemy. We had not proceeded more
than a mile on the road, and before the morning had clearly dawned, when
the advanced files cried out to me the cavalry were formed across the
road. I made it a rule, during the march, to leave my two Lieutenants
with the rear subdivision, and take the advance myself, as they were
inexperienced, and knew little of these matters. I instantly ordered the
bugler to sound the halt, merely to give notice to the battalion in the
rear, and dismounting from my pony took one of the men’s rifles. I sent
directions for the Lieutenant to see the men get under cover in the most
secure manner, in case the cavalry should charge, and to keep up a brisk
fire on them. I then advanced to the front file, and immediately
challenged the cavalry, then about fifty yards from me, with rifle
cocked and half presented. The answer was given, “amigos” (friends). I
then ordered them to advance, which a few did, with their officer, very
cautiously. When I found them to be the Queen’s troops I allowed them to
pass. There was about a troop. Before we had proceeded a quarter of a
mile further, we came in sight of a regiment of infantry, which
immediately threw out a company in extended order on both sides of the
road. This put us on our metal again, and bringing up the rear section,
I gave them directions to extend; but no man to fire without receiving
orders from me. We then advanced most cautiously, when I perceived an
officer waving a white handkerchief on a sword, and advancing towards
me. I instantly met him, and found these also to be Queen’s troops, the
cavalry which we first met being their advance-guard. General M’Dougal
and General Reid, with our Colonel de Rottenberg, rode up, and thanked
me for the cautious manner in which I had acted, remarking that, had any
inexperienced officer been in my place, most serious consequences might
have ensued, as the Queen’s troops had taken us for the enemy, not
knowing that any of the Legion was dressed otherwise than in red
uniform. I jokingly replied, I had been brought up in Wellington’s
school, where we were taught to make no blunders. I could find, the
short time I had been with the Legion, that chief part of the officers
did not know a friend from the enemy. We arrived at Breviesca about four
o’clock in the afternoon, much to the joy of the Legion, as it was
appointed as a temporary place of rest, if not of winter quarters.
This march occupied nine days. The distance from Bilboa, by the
circuitous and difficult route we had taken, was about sixty leagues,
which is, upon an average, about twenty English miles a day.
Breviesca is an ancient town of considerable extent, situated in an open
plain, in the province of Castile; and is distant from Vittoria about
forty miles, and twenty from Burgos; it is surrounded by a mud wall.
Head-quarters were now at Breviesca, but the town not affording
accommodation sufficient for the whole Legion, several regiments were
quartered in the adjacent villages.
The inhabitants of this and the neighbouring localities, had been much
oppressed at different periods, and particularly by the French, during
the Peninsular war. The old patrone of the house in which I was
quartered, gave me a long recital of the exactions he had been subject
to, during that period, by soldiers of different armies, these he
related with the tears rolling over his aged cheeks, which, no doubt,
his extraordinary sufferings had mainly contributed to wither. Indeed,
the Spaniards, since my last sojourn amongst them, had made but very
little progress towards improvement, the joint influence of foreign
invasion, priestcraft, and civil strife, having so long, and so
continually absorbed their energies, that they could scarcely be said to
have recovered themselves: their beautiful country, rich as it was in
natural resources, now bore the appearance of a desert, patched here and
there only, by the hands of the cultivator, who planted in fear, and
gathered in trembling, under the dreadful probabilities of having it
uprooted, or trodden down by the soldiers of either party, and himself,
perhaps, and his family stretched lifeless amid the ruin.
If there are any among my readers so lost to common sense and
patriotism, as to glory in the prospect of revolution in their own
favoured country, let me tell them that the “lopping” of the limb is a
dangerous remedy, and that can scarcely ever be justifiable. Few can
wander amid the realities of dissevered and disjointed Spain, and not
feel the truth of my observation. Her treachery may be a good plea with
some, but war, and especially those inappropriately called “civil” are
enough to make any nation treacherous, especially when “pretended
friends” ride rough-shod over the soil and feelings of the inhabitants.
At Breviesca we commenced a regular system of drilling, but, in my
opinion, useless; the Rifles were drilled collectively, instead of being
exercised in light infantry manœuvres, which last, every practical
soldier must well know, was better adapted to the mountain warfare we
were about to engage in (not only for the Rifles, but for every regiment
of the Legion). But instead of this, they were confined to marching
round in columns of companies, saluting the General, forming lines, &c.
This I pointed out to our Colonel, with a request that we might be
allowed fifteen or twenty rounds of blank cartridge, to exercise the men
a little in sham fighting; to this he acceded, and it afterwards proved
of great service.
During the short time we remained at Breviesca, the drilling and the
provosting system were as usual carried on most rigorously: these, with
our long and harassing march from Bilboa, together with the damp
convents, &c., laid the foundation of all the sickness and mortality
that afterwards befel the unfortunate Legion.
About this time an order came from Madrid, for the whole of the men to
be paid up to the last day of November, 1835; this was the only
settlement that Captains of companies had with the paymaster, until the
dissolution of the Legion.
After remaining in this town about three weeks, the Legion marched for
Vittoria, leaving two large hospitals crowded with sick.
The morning of our departure was exceedingly inclement, and those who
witnessed our march from Breviesca, will not readily forget the scene
that presented itself. The ground was covered with snow; such of the
sick as could not be accommodated in the hospitals, in the absence of
every other conveyance, were mounted upon donkeys, supported on each
side by their comrades, and enveloped in old rugs, watch-coats and
blankets, as a protection against the inclemency of the season. As this
spectre group moved along in sad and melancholy procession, their gaunt
appearance produced a strong sensation upon the troops, as they passed
them on the line of march. The Englishman commented on their worn and
wretched appearance, and commiserated their sufferings; while the
calculating Scotchman anticipated that before long, such probably might
be their own fate. But an Irishman roared out from the ranks, “Prepare
to receive cavalry!” and then making a full stop, and scratching his
head, as he deliberately surveyed, with a serio-comic expression of
countenance, the melancholy cavalcade of invalids, exclaimed, with a
significant nod to his comrades, “By Jasus, boys, there’s no danger,
they are quietly marching to tother world!”
After going through the romantic pass of Pancorbo, we halted for the
night in a mountain village, on the left of the main road. My company
was told off to two houses, and as I ever made it a rule to visit the
men’s quarters after a day’s march, I found in one of their billets, the
patrone and two of his children laying dead, huddled together on some
Indian corn-leaves, with an old blanket thrown over them, and the
unfortunate mother in another corner of the room weeping most bitterly,
with an infant in her arms, without fire, or any other thing to comfort
her. It appeared, from the forlorn widow’s statement, that her husband
was pressed by the Carlists for a soldier. Being fond of his children he
deserted, and remained secreted until he died from want. We collected a
small sum for her, and I got the children interred.
The next day, at about two o’clock, we came in sight of the city of
Vittoria; its towers slowly emerging to the view as we neared it over
the plains.
I cannot describe how I felt, on again beholding this place, so
celebrated for the victory we had gloriously achieved here, under our
immortal Wellington, some four or five-and-twenty years before. The very
hedges became familiar to me; but when we arrived at the village on the
main road where we had taken the first gun, and where I so fortunately
escaped death, I could no longer suppress my emotions, but turning my
pony off the road from my company into the fields, I gave vent to my
feelings. Weak as this may appear, it nevertheless is true, and I stood
as one—the last of the time-forgotten numbers who had consecrated the
scene. I felt as it were amidst them, and, unconsciously looked about,
as if under the impression that the soil would throw out some of my old
comrades. But all was one bleak flat, edged in on either side by
mountains, which seemed to rear their heads like tombstones o’er the
glorious sleepers at their base.
How many a year had passed, how many a care had done its best to wither
up my heart-strings, but oh! how vain! I was still the “old soldier!”
and though garbed and tilted with the appointments of Captain of a
company, it had not altered my nature; and I verily believe, if the
offer could have been made, that I should have given up epaulettes and
all for one short hour’s converse with my old brother campaigners.
In the midst of my retrospections, General Reid, together with my
Colonel, rode up to ask some questions about this celebrated battle,
which they were aware I had been present at, but seeing my discomposed
state of mind, they most kindly declined making inquiries. Between the
sorrow I felt for those brave companions, who had fallen on every side
of me, and the inward pride that burnt in my bosom, as one of those who
had assisted in that ever-memorable contest, I could not compose my
fluttering and overwhelming feeling; but this agitated state was broken
in upon by one of the men of my company, who coming up to me said:
“You cannot conceive, Sir, how queer I feel at the sight of this town;
for there, Sir, I was born (pointing to Vittoria): my poor father was
dangerously wounded, and while my mother, who so many a time told me the
tale, attended to him in the hospital, she took to her bed and brought
me into the world.”
I inquired to what regiment his father had belonged; he informed me the
45th. He seemed much affected as well as myself; I slipped him a trifle
to drink to his father’s memory. Poor fellow! he came to keep his sire
company, and to fatten the Spanish soil with his own remains, as he died
in about a month after his arrival in “his birth-place.”
We halted for an hour about three miles from the city; we were joined by
a number of Spanish troops, both infantry and cavalry, who had marched
out to meet us; as soon as the chief part of the Legion had come up, we
proceeded to march into the town, with Spanish bands at our head,
playing their national airs. The inhabitants had placed over the gates
an illuminated globe and festoons of laurels &c.; on the former was an
inscription in variegated lamps,
“To the brave and generous English
Who fight for the liberty of Nations.”
The windows were crowded with old and young, with beauty and deformity,
some perhaps from curiosity, some to welcome, but most of them waving
handkerchiefs, shouting vivas and giving other demonstrations of what we
supposed to be a universal welcome—to thousands a welcome to their last
home. Banners were hoisted from tower and steeple, and bells jingled in
every one of them, and as the darkness set in, the whole town was
illuminated, and a display of fireworks in the Plaza finished the
evening. But alas! how soon the Spaniards changed their tune; we had not
been three weeks in this sepulchre of the unfortunate Legion, before
they wished us, General and all, at the devil.
I was billeted, as luck would have it, on an old Colonel who formerly
belonged to the Spanish service and who had fought under the Duke of
Wellington. He had for some years retired on half pay, and as he was
very proficient in the French language and I also had some knowledge of
it, we made the time pass very agreeably, entertaining each other with
anecdotes of our respective services.