Upon our arrival off Mondego Bay, in Portugal, we received orders to
disembark at the little village of Figueras, at the mouth of the
Mondego river, across which there was a dangerous surf and ground
swell. The passing of this obstacle we found to be a most hazardous
and difficult service. As soon as the Portuguese boats, crowded with
our soldiers, reached the foaming and rapid surge, a desperate pull
was made by all the rowers; when, dashing over its surface, we were
launched upon the strand in a most unceremonious manner, being
pitched, or rather tumbled out, more like a cargo of fish than a boat
load of gentlemen warriors. Bundled out upon the sandy beach, we lay
floundering, and drenched by the waves, like so many half drowned
wretches, who had lately escaped from Neptune's watery domains; and
were almost doubtful of our existence, as we scrambled high, though
not dry, upon the shore.--After this delightful immersion, and the
cold reception we had experienced, on our first appearance upon
the Lusitanian stage, we moved forward, with habiliments of war
effectually saturated by the briny element, and soon joined our
_companions of the bath_, already on the road. Most of us had been
provided with small knapsacks, holding our _kit_, together with the
haversack, and canteen, slung across the shoulder; of which the two
former, (including their contents,) were rendered totally unfit for
service, nothing being left for consolation but the brandy, or rum;
cordials which were well calculated, and by no means unnecessary, to
elevate our drooping spirits.
As soon as we recovered from the effects of our chilling ablutions, we
proceeded to the ground of encampment, and, although we were in a
sorry condition with regard to the outward man, the inward was
sustained by a hearty determination to bear up under privations alike
inevitable to all. The weather was beautifully fine; the roads, which
were in general good, led through a picturesque and richly cultivated
country. At the termination of each day's march, the troops were
halted in the neighbourhood of wood and water. The alignment being
taken up, and the arms piled in column, fires were immediately put in
requisition for cooking, and in a moment the clash and clang of
bill-hooks and pioneers' entrenching tools resounded on every side;
while the deep woods rang again with the clamour of ten thousand
tongues, and the harsh discordant sound of bugles, drums, and other
noisy accompaniments, producing, on the whole, a scene not unworthy of
Hogarth himself, who might have been aroused from the dead, to execute
the task of depicting it, had he been entombed within the precincts of
our turbulent camp.
Before daylight the army was up, and standing to their arms, formed in
open column, the reveille at the same time was sounded from right to
left, and echoed through the closely planted hills, giving to our
enemies in the front loud intimation of our near approach, and proving
that his newly arrived visitors were at all events on the alert, and
came early into the field.
As we moved onward, towards Lisbon, a skirmish took place at Obidos,
in which fell Lieutenant Bunbury, of the 95th Rifle corps; the first
British officer who was slain in the Peninsula. This was the prelude
to a more important action. Headed by General Laborde, the French took
post on the heights of Roriça, where they resisted with wonderful
obstinacy the combined attack of our troops. Nothing could surpass the
gallantry displayed by both parties, during the assault of this strong
position; and nothing but the courage of British soldiers could have
forced the enemy to withdraw. On our part, the noble conduct of the
old 9th and 29th regiments was conspicuous, those corps having, at the
point of the bayonet, carried the whole range of hills.
It was a lovely morning, the sun rose with a splendour never witnessed
in our cold latitudes, and every object seemed to smile upon our
operations, at the commencement of that struggle upon which depended
the slavery or freedom of a great nation.
The 50th, 45th, and 91st were brigaded together at this time, under
General I. Catlin Crawford[6], and these were drawn up on the road
leading to Roleia. From the arrangements made, we fully expected to
have had the post of honor, or rather the honor of driving the
adversary from his stronghold, and waited anxiously for the order to
advance; but presently, while we stood gazing about us, up comes the
29th regiment, which by their bold and decided pace gave evidence
plain enough that they were selected for the service, and, cheering
them with our wishes for their success, we could not avoid admiring
the style in which they moved along.
[6] General Catlin Crawford was a tall, fine-looking man,
with a fair complexion and sandy hair. He subsequently died
of fever in Portugal.
General Robert Crawford, his relation, a gallant officer,
was killed at Ciudad Rodrigo.
The arrangements made by the French General Laborde for the defence of
his position were admirably planned, and his troops behaved with great
valour, contesting every inch of ground. Concealed within the close
brushwood, on each side of the narrow defile, they took steady and
deliberate aim, and their fire was attended with murderous effects.
The 29th, however, commanded by the gallant Colonel Lake[7], pressed
onward, to the gorge of the pass. While they were struggling up the
rugged and precipitous ascent they were exposed to a shower of balls,
and, in a few minutes, the grenadier company was nearly annihilated,
the chivalrous Lake falling mortally wounded at their head, while in
the act of bravely encouraging his men.
[7] Lieutenant Colonel the Honorable George Augustus
Frederick Lake was the son of General Lord Lake, and rose to
high military rank at an early age. He was a man of noble
aspect and commanding appearance. Mounted on a milk-white
charger, he led his followers on with heroic bearing.
The regiment still pushed forward, although with the loss of many
other officers, and, forming on the summit of the eminence, was
supported by the 9th; these corps, followed by others in reserve,
gained possession of the heights. Beaten at all points, the enemy
moved off in good order; directing his march along the sea coast by
the roads to Vimeiro and Torres Vedras.
The 9th suffered considerably in this affair, and their commander,
Colonel Cameron, was killed at the first onset.
The allies marched rapidly in the footsteps of the flying enemy,
keeping him well in sight until they reached the hills surrounding the
village of Vimeiro, where they were formed, in order to protect the
debarkation of a reinforcement of men from England; which was then off
the coast. These troops landed at the small town of Maceira, and were
just in time for the ensuing combat, having opportunely joined before
our principal adversary thought proper to shew his face.
Junot, who was general in chief, held the British in much contempt,
and endeavoured to impress upon the minds of his followers, that their
antagonists were a set of raw campaigners, wholly devoid of military
skill. From the testimony of some deserters, who came into our lines,
we learned, that the Marshal intended, before many days were over, to
give us a dusting, and to brush the pipeclay out of our jackets. This
cavalier determination of the Marshal afforded no small amusement to
our soldiers, who promised themselves some good sport, whenever the
gasconading Frenchman might be pleased to make true his words: and,
not to be behindhand with him in kindness, they resolved gratefully to
return the compliment, by trimming the whiskers of his gallant
veterans, and powdering their mustachios, in so artist-like a manner,
that the aid of a friseur should no longer be required.
In this posture things remained until the 21st of August, when both
parties assembled to put in their claim to a portion of the honor and
glory which were to be won on that day. By which side the largest
share of those imperishable commodities was obtained, History has
already recorded.
At a very early hour, on the morning of the day already mentioned,
some random shots were heard in front of our piquets, which gave us
intimation that the French were on the move, and we doubted not that
they were about to assist our toilet in the way of brushing; in plain
English, it was clear enough that they had it in contemplation to try
our metal, and ascertain whether it was of a base kind or not. Under
these circumstances it was quite natural that we should anticipate
their wishes; and measures were accordingly taken to give them a warm
reception.
Very few of us were ever in action before, and as for the smell of
gunpowder, all our young hands were perfect griffins in that way. It
being our initiatory battle, our minds were under no small degree of
excitement. The idea of engaging in deadly strife with the soldiers of
Austerlitz and Jena inspired the ambitious hero, escaped from the
apron-string, with feelings of emulation well calculated to keep alive
the flame of military ardour; and each, screwing his courage to the
sticking place, resolved that he would be famed _for deeds of arms_,
and that his name should go down to posterity under an accumulated
weight of laurels.
The 43rd, (2nd battalion,) 50th, and 95th Rifle Corps were formed into
a light brigade, under the command of General (now Sir Henry) Fane,
and certainly I never beheld so fine a body of men; the 43rd, in
particular, were a most shewy set of fellows, a healthy collection of
John Bulls, hot from their own country, and equally hot for a slap at
the Frenchmen. The 95th, (now the Rifle Brigade,) was commanded by
Major Robert Travers[8], an officer whose bravery, on all occasions,
made him worthy of a place in that crack regiment. We were posted on
an eminence, to the right of the village; the 50th, being the junior
corps, was stationed in the centre, and consequently on the highest
part of the hill. From hence, as the day was fine, and the atmosphere
quite clear, we had a distinct view of all that was going forward in
the front, also a tolerably good prospect in every other direction.
[8] Major Robert Travers was promoted to be Lieutenant
Colonel of the 10th Foot, and subsequently became Major
General by brevet. He settled at his native place, Cork,
where he died, in consequence of a fall from his horse, in
1835. He left a widow and very numerous family. One of his
daughters, previously not unknown as a writer, has very
recently distinguished herself by the "The MASCARENHAS;
a Legend of the Portuguese in India;" an animated Romance,
which displays great knowledge of character and power of
description.
The country was overspread with vineyards, and, the vintage season
being at hand, nothing could be more beautiful than the luxuriant
foliage. Intermingled with the vines were chestnut and olive trees,
while in the parts more distant, were rich and closely planted woods,
forming a back-ground in good keeping with the whole of the splendid
landscape.
The plot began to thicken about 8 o'clock, when a brisk firing of
musketry, among the troops in advance, announced that it was high time
to reinforce the piquets, which were commanded by Captain Thomas
Snowe, of the 60th regiment. They were immediately strengthened by the
4th battalion company of that regiment, under Captain Coote. A sharp
discharge of small arms was kept up by a cloud of French riflemen,
who, gathering round under cover of the vines and cornfields, gave
their fire with a degree of activity that certainly did them credit.
Our men were at this time exposed in the open field, and scarcely knew
from what direction the enemy were coming; but though they were nearly
all young soldiers, unaccustomed to gunpowder, they behaved with a
degree of steadiness worthy of their corps. Snowe in the meanwhile,
with his party, which had extended to the right, was ordered to close
on either flank, to support the centre, when the principal attack was
made, and where the enemy, still pressing in, galled us with a
peppering that was rapidly thinning the ranks, and made our situation
by no means either cool or comfortable. With admirable presence of
mind, Coote directed his men to take advantage of every means of cover
the place afforded; and, encouraging them by his own example, they
kept their ground under a galling and destructive fire, from an enemy
whom they were unable to answer or even to see. At this trying moment,
while in the act of cheering his little band, and urging them to
behave with firmness and courage, a musket ball struck him in the
heart, and reeling back a few paces, he fell, and instantly expired.
His fall did not, however, dispirit his followers, on the contrary it
excited an indignant feeling, which prompted them to redouble their
exertions in order to avenge his death.
Arthur Gethin Coote was a native of the south of Ireland, and had
served in the 50th regiment for some years.--He was a military looking
man, strong, and well built, having dark features, and sharp
penetrating eyes.--He was somewhat stately in deportment, but withal a
daring soldier, steady and collected in the hour of danger.
The command devolving on Lieutenant Mark Rudkin, (Captain Snowe being
detached to some woods on the right,) he gave orders to retire. The
piquets extending right and left immediately fell back, under a shower
of bullets, from the enemy's light troops, who continued forcing on in
spite of all opposition. We gave them in return the full benefit of
our small shot, as we occasionally drew up, covered by the vine hedges
and olive trees, that lay within our path; and in this manner,
alternately firing and retreating, so as to keep the foe aloof, we
gained our situation in the line.
Before twelve o'clock, the contending forces were hard at work. Dark
and accumulating masses of the enemy were advancing on every side;
for, resolving that this should be a decisive combat, and that he
would drive us back by the road on which we came, and perhaps into the
sea, Junot brought into the field every man that he could muster. Such
being his determination, it is no wonder that he pushed his warriors
into our very teeth. They, too, if we might judge from the coolness
with which they travelled up to the muzzles of our guns, seemed to
think that they had nothing whatever to do, but to cut us into
mince-meat, and devour us all by way of an early dinner. To the left
of Vimeiro was a chain of lofty hills, extending for a considerable
way to the eastward. Upon these the main body of the British force was
arrayed, and here the contest was fought with desperation. The enemy,
at last, after many a hard struggle to gain the position, was
completely routed, leaving a vast number of his killed and wounded on
the sides of the precipice, as well as in the hollows and ravines at
its base.
The 71st Highland Light Infantry was greatly distinguished on those
heights, and, with the other corps of Sir Ronald Ferguson's Brigade,
charged the assailants repeatedly from the ground. They were then
commanded by that fine officer, the late Sir Dennis Pack, and fully
maintained the high station which they had always held in the military
records of their country.
Among their wounded was poor George Clarke, their piper, who was
struck by a musket ball, while cheering up his comrades in the charge.
Unable to proceed, the intrepid Clarke still continued to play in
animated strains the favourite national music, and with a noble spirit
remained upon the spot, under a heavy fire, until, having fully
accomplished the object of their mission, his regiment came back
victorious to the station on the hill.[9]
[9] Clarke received a handsome pension, and was justly
rewarded, by the Highland Society, with an appropriate
silver medal.
The 50th regiment, commanded by Colonel George Townsend Walker, stood
as firm as a rock, while a strong division under General Laborde
continued to advance, at a rapid step, from the deep woods in our
front, covered by a legion of tirailleurs, who quickened their pace as
they neared our line. Walker now ordered his men to prepare for close
attack, and he watched with eagle eye the favorable moment for
pouncing on the enemy.
When the latter, in a compact mass, arrived sufficiently up the hill,
now bristled with bayonets, the black cuffs poured in a well directed
volley upon the dense array. Then, cheering loudly, and led on by its
gallant chief, the whole regiment rushed forward to the charge,
penetrated the formidable columns, and carried all before it. The
confusion into which the panic-struck Frenchmen were thrown it would
be difficult to express. No longer able to withstand the British
steel, Laborde and his invincibles made a headlong retreat, and never
looked behind them till they reached the forest and vineyards in the
rear.
As far as the eye could reach over the well planted valley, and across
the open country lying beyond the forest, the fugitives were running
in wild disorder, their white sheep-skin knapsacks discernible among
woods far distant. There were, however, many resolute fellows, who, in
retiring, took cover behind the hedgerows, saluting us with parting
volleys, which did considerable execution amongst our advancing
troops. At length, even this remnant of the vanquished foe, dispersed
and broken in piece-meal, betook themselves to flight in every quarter
of the field. The ground was thickly strewed with muskets, side arms,
bayonets, accoutrements, and well-filled knapsacks, all of which had
been hastily flung away as dangerous incumbrances. Several of the
packs contained various articles of plunder, including plate in many
shapes and forms, which they had robbed from the unfortunate
Portuguese. Books of songs, romances, and other commodities of a
similar kind, were scattered about in all directions; and many a
tender billet-doux lay open to the profane gaze and the laughing
comments of the vulgar multitude. It was amusing, after all was over,
to see the strange medley of curiosities, that had, doubtless with
much pains, been collected by those who lately owned them; and it was
with no very nice feelings that a general inspection of the rarities
took place, as soon as the defeated army had left the field.
While we were pursuing our opponents, the 20th Light Dragoons, led on
by Colonel Taylor, galloped furiously past us, in order to put a
finishing stroke to the business, by completing any thing that the
infantry might have left undone. The horsemen, unsupported, charging
the enemy with impetuosity, and rashly going too far, were involved in
a difficulty of which, in their eagerness to overtake the stragglers,
they had never thought; for, getting entangled among the trees and
vineyards, they could do but little service, and suffered a loss of
nearly half their number: their brave commander being also one of
those who fell in that desperate onset.
The 43rd regiment was very much cut up, being, while employed in
skirmishing, considerably exposed. I noticed at least a subdivision of
their men lying killed in a deep gulley or trench, as they fell over
each other, from a raking discharge of round or grape shot.
The 50th lost a great proportion of rank and file, which chiefly arose
from the fire of the French light troops, while covering their column,
and during their retreat. Major Charles Hill was wounded, and Captain
A. G. Coote and Lieutenant I. N. Wilson were among the slain.
Upon the bleak surface of the hill, from which the regiment had
charged Laborde, we bivouacked that night, and reposed our weary
limbs. Although the air was cold, and our situation comfortless, yet,
from extreme fatigue, we rested perhaps more soundly than the pampered
alderman on his downy couch. A windmill on the summit afforded
excellent quarters for the Colonel and his personal staff, while the
other officers, less fortunate, crouched together, shivering outside
its base.
The 50th took a standard pole and box, which were borne by a serjeant
between the colours, as a trophy, during the succeeding campaigns. The
French, instead of colours, display a small brass eagle, screwed to a
square box of the same metal, both of which are attached to a pole or
staff. This eagle is seldom exhibited in the heat of action, the staff
being carried as a rallying point, in the same way, and for the same
object as our banners.
The army remained on its ground during the 22nd, no measures being
taken to follow up the victory that was gained. This inaction arose
from Sir Harry Burrard having arrived on the field before the
termination of the battle, _assumed_ the command, and given orders
that no further hostile movement should take place.
An armistice was now concluded, and the French troops withdrew into
Lisbon, where they lay encamped in one of the principal squares. Here
they remained, by virtue of the convention of Cintra, until their
final embarkation for France, accompanied by their renowned chieftain
the celebrated Duke of Abrantes, and bearing away plunder enough to
load a ship, and their arms to meet us at some future day, on some
other battle-field.[10]
[10] It is a singular fact, that one of those regiments of
Junot's army, (the 32nd Light Infantry), was engaged with
the 50th at the battle of Corunna, having lost no time in
returning to their old trade of basket making.