On the 12th of January the 1st brigade, under General Lord William
Bentinck, marched into Corunna. Proceeding along the main street, by
the harbour side, the 50th was halted in front of a large convent,
near the citadel, where in a short time the regiment was quartered.
After such a protracted course of hard service, and ceaseless
marching, the quietness of even a temporary rest was a luxury most
highly valued; although we knew not at what moment we might be called
again into the field.
While we were stationed here, the great magazine of powder, situated
about three miles off, was blown into the air, with such an awful
explosion, that the sound thereof reached the distant mountains, and
shook, as if by some volcanic agency, the buildings of the town. We
were not prepared for the event, which took place at an early hour,
and while a few of us were seated around our canteens at breakfast, in
one of the convent rooms. Suddenly a violent concussion was felt, and
then a thundering noise was heard, that made the ancient fabric reel,
and tremble on its base, and rattled the tiles and shingle of the
spacious roof about our ears. We were amazed, I may almost say
horror-struck, beyond expression, and a number of confused ideas
rapidly crossed our minds; some declared it was an earthquake, others,
that the enemy's cannon were battering at the walls; no one guessed at
the real cause. In a state of consternation, expecting that a second
peal would annihilate our tenement, and bury us in its ruins, we made
a rush for the doorway, where we met the Adjutant, who explained to us
the whole affair; and this turmoil of fire and gunpowder died away in
smoke.
On the 15th, our brigade marched out of Corunna, and going about two
miles from the gates, was drawn up in position upon the extremity of a
chain of heights, extending in a semicircular form towards the North.
This movement was made in consequence of the decision of Sir John
Moore to give the enemy battle; for, the transports not having come
round from Vigo, (into which port they had been blown by contrary
winds), he determined to make one grand effort, and maintain the
honour of the British army. It would thus be seen that, however
irregular his troops had been, upon a difficult march, they were well
prepared to meet the foe; and that their high character for
steadiness, as well as courage, would never fail when called upon in
the hour of danger; proving at the same time, that in the cause of
England, "every man would do his duty."
Sir John Moore himself, almost worn out by constant anxiety, arising
from various unforeseen causes, was yet endued with mental force as
strong as ever; and, abundant in resources, he never lost that
coolness and self-possession which availed him so much. Possessing
great humanity, he felt deeply for the dreadful sufferings of his men,
and in his exertions to alleviate them he was unremitting. Many times
have I seen him go about the lines, from one encampment to another,
wrapped up in his military cloak, without parade or ostentation, in
order that he might personally inspect the condition of the troops,
and as far as in his power lay afford them relief, and add to their
comforts.
His position, as chief of the army, was one of much difficulty; and
his energies were so greatly paralysed by the interference of
professing friends, and the false intelligence of his real enemies,
that it appears miraculous how he ever brought the forces through. His
great perseverance, intrepid spirit, and warlike talent, enabled him
to overcome those trials which would have broken down another man. Let
those who have calumniated his name be for ever silent, when they
reflect on that devotedness of conduct, by which, in the moment of
peril, he preserved untarnished the fame of Britain's sons, falling
himself nobly for their glory, and by their side, in the hour of
victory.
The brigade was formed on the crest of the hill, with uneven ground in
front, between which and the enemy's position lay a deep and broken
ravine, interspersed with vines and brushwood, and traversed in
various directions by numerous enclosures and narrow lanes, inclining
towards the head of the precipice.
Midway between the place where the 50th stood and the opposite hill
was situated the village of Elvina, consisting of a few poor
straggling hovels, with a chapel in the centre, and surrounded with
fragments of rock, stone walls, hedges, and close winding passages.
The whole French army, under Marshal Soult, occupied a parallel range
to that upon which ours was posted, more elevated and considerably
more extensive.
The troops, being stationed in the alignment pointed out, commenced
the usual operations of the camp, and were, from right to left, in
high spirits at the prospect of giving the French an airing, in return
for their marked attention towards us, for the last three weeks, and
by way of making some amends for all the trouble we must have caused
them. For some days back, it had been perceived that immense bodies
were assembling, and the heights upon which they halted were literally
darkened by their increasing columns. The continual beating of their
drums, (without which their men can never stir), the noisy words of
command, and the din of their ammunition waggons, with the rolling of
their gun-carriages, rung perpetually in our ears from the moment that
we arrived upon the field. The French, on every occasion, make an
excessive display, with much of loud and empty sound, and at all
times, in action, they put forth such frantic and discordant yells,
and raise so much useless clamour, that the report of cannon is often
scarcely greater.
The morning of the 16th opened with the usual routine of duty, the
same exciting work presented itself, the contending parties with eager
attention observing each other's manoeuvres.--The weather was cloudy;
but towards noon the sun shone out, and it continued fine during the
rest of this eventful day.
An extraordinary stir and commotion was noticed, about 2 P.M. in the
enemy's camp, after both armies had dined. From the opposite lines,
numerous light troops were seen advancing in the direction of our
piquets, which had been previously reinforced, and this movement was
followed by a general attack upon the entire chain of outposts.
Our soldiers, deploying into line, occupied their allotted
station.--Being the junior corps, the 50th was in the centre of the
brigade, flanked by the King's Own, and 42nd Highlanders; in company
with such men, the Black Cuffs could not fail, and they were proud,
and justly too, of being enrolled with those fine regiments.
Sir John Moore was quickly on the spot, and with the experienced mind
of an old and skilful warrior, he gave the necessary orders to the
several officers of his army holding command. The staff were then
dispersed, and flying in all directions with those orders to the
various divisions, the whole of which in a very short space of time
were standing to their arms. It was about 3 o'clock when the light
troops advanced in multitudes against our line; rapidly descending the
hill they opened a brisk discharge from their rifles upon our piquets,
that lined the enclosures throughout the wide extent of the ravine. It
was very polite of the Frenchmen to allow us time to get our dinners,
although it will appear that they had not finished their own repast;
however, to make up for this mistake, we helped them to a desert of
forced meat balls, which, composed as they were of indigestible
materials, formed a considerable portion of this day's bill of
fare.--As soon as matters began to wear a serious aspect, the locks
and flints were examined, caps tied on, and other preparatory measures
taken for the deadly strife.
For the purpose of covering his forward movements, a heavy cannonade
was poured down by the enemy from a masked battery on the elevated
ridge. By this plunging fire our ranks were much thinned, and the
round shot, booming on every side, scattered about the splinters,
sand, and stones, that fell in showers upon our heads.--Pending the
operations, a general assault was made upon our left, from whence the
music of artillery sounded loud and incessant.
Perceiving, by the strong fire, that a French corps was pushing
through the hollows, evidently with the view of turning our right
flank, Colonel Wynch, of the 4th, threw back some companies of that
regiment, forming an obtuse angle with the line; which effectually
prevented the enemy from making any further efforts in that quarter.
While this was going on, a regiment of Guards was brought up in
reserve, and posted at the rear of our brigade.
The piquets being now thrown back, from the weight of fire, our men
were ordered to advance to their support. Major Napier, in front of the
50th, gave the word, cheering as he led boldly forward. Passing the
enclosure, and clearing all before them in superior style, they entered
the village of Elvina, which was instantly carried at the point of the
bayonet, and pressing still onwards, under an awful blaze, they made
for the summit of the heights. Meanwhile, the light infantry, an
inflexible and stubborn band, with Captain Harrison at their head,
furiously charged across the broken ground, and bearing away all
opposition, took lodgment in the rocks above. The hamlet being at
length surrounded, its occupants rushed pell-mell into every hole and
corner they could find. A number of these heroes, having ensconced
themselves within the chapel, began to amuse themselves by firing from
the windows, roof, and belfry, at the soldiers. Observing their
murderous design, Captain William Clunes with cool and determined
bravery marched his company to attack them, and having, with all due
ceremony, introduced his grenadiers to their acquaintance, the powerful
fellows would instantly have demolished the chapel, in order to eject
the congregation therein assembled, had they not been hindered by their
leader, who, with the greatest sang froid imaginable, took his stand by
the portal of the edifice, and, grasping an Indian cane of stout
dimensions, threatened destruction to the inmates, if they did not
discontinue their ball practice and surrender, to a man. Astounded by
the Stentor-like tone in which this _notice_ to _quit_ was uttered by
the huge Northern, the garrison resolved at all hazards to evacuate the
premises, and, accordingly, with a desperate rush, they sallied out
amongst the flankers. Many were slain upon the spot, or taken, Clunes
and his party collecting a pretty fair specimen of their afternoon's
work. If the ludicrous could have been thought of at such a moment, the
strange and extraordinary scene was enough to excite the mirthful
faculties of a philosopher. The contrast between the tall and stalwart
grenadier and the diminutive Frenchmen was truly ridiculous; and the
manner in which this gigantic son of Mars turned out the warriors of
Napoleon, without once drawing a sword, and while shot was flying as
thick as hail, was a sight well remembered by those who were present on
that day.[12]
[12] Clunes was many years in the 50th, having been present
with them in all their campaigns up to this period. He was
one of the finest looking grenadiers in the British army;
tall in stature, muscular in frame, with a countenance
expressive of the cool and determined soldier. His
bravery at Corunna called forth the approbation of the
Commander-in-chief, by whom he was immediately promoted to a
majority in the 54th. After serving in that regiment for a
considerable lapse of time, he sold out, and returned to his
native country. He did not long survive, to enjoy the quiet
of domestic life. His death was much regretted by the few
remaining veterans of the 50th, who had been his companions
in the field, and his name stands high in the records of
that corps.
Our battalion companies fought like lions, and pouring rapidly through
the village upset the kettles and cooking apparatus, which were in
full work throughout the streets. The savoury stews, broths and
fricassees, were put _hors de combat_, and small was the number of the
meagre combatants who returned to claim a portion of the half dressed
fare. Having succeeded in forcing every barrier, and cutting our way
through the enemy at every point, the main body of the regiment
pressed on to the higher ground; "forward, forward to the hill!" was
now the cry. Clambering up the steep and craggy ascent, emboldened by
the example of their officers, the soldiers were mowed down
unmercifully by continuous volleys from the crest of the mountain,
almost threatening to annihilate our ranks.
The assailants were not far distant at this time from the brow of the
impending rock, which, bristling with bayonets, seemed to frown in
defiance upon the enterprise. But, although the dangerous attempt to
crown the eminence appeared to resemble a forlorn hope, Major Napier,
with determined boldness, resolved to carry, by a coup-de-main, the
enemy's strong hold; waving, therefore, his sabre in the air, he
loudly called upon his men to follow.--His enthusiastic spirit had
urged him on, beyond the foremost of the soldiers, when he fell,
severely wounded, and, before we could approach to rescue him, he was
borne off speedily to the enemy's lines.[13]
[13] Soult behaved in a noble and disinterested manner
towards Major Napier. As soon as it was discovered that his
prisoner was wounded, he ordered that he should be conveyed
within the lines, and receive the attendance of the most
skilful surgeon in the camp. He likewise gave directions,
that he should be provided with every comfort that it was
possible to obtain. To complete the measure of his
liberality and kindness, he allowed the Major, as soon as he
was perfectly restored to health, to return to England, on
parole, in order that an exchange might be effected with a
Field Officer of the French army. This act was of itself
enough to stamp the character of the Marshal, and was worthy
of a general, than whom one more talented or brave never
fought the battles of his country.
About this period, the right centre, forcing through the enclosures
and lanes beyond the village, was exposed to a raking fire, and in
consequence was most severely handled, several officers and men being
killed.--Among the former was the Honorable Major Stanhope, who
received a musket ball in the chest, and expired without a struggle.
He was a man of dignified appearance, reserved in his deportment, but
withal a zealous officer. Having joined the regiment at the outset of
this campaign, his career was brief, though splendid. The same round
of musketry that caused the death of Stanhope, proved fatal to both
the officers of the colours, Ensigns Moore and Stewart; the former
survived but to arrive in England, the latter never spoke. They were
promising young men, and much regretted by every member of the corps.
Among the slain were also Lieutenant John Napper Wilson, of the Light
Company.
Poor Moore, my esteemed friend and companion, had all along a
presentiment of his fate; and talked of it as an event inevitably to
happen in the first battle. This sad foreboding, from which I could
not rally him, never for a moment preyed upon his mind, which was
always cheerful and contented.[14]
[14] Moore died at Haslar hospital, Gosport, after lingering
for several weeks. The ball having penetrated his lungs,
there was no possible hope of his recovery. His father was a
clergyman in the North of Ireland, who had lost other sons
in the service of his country.
Ensign Stewart was a quiet and amiable lad, nephew to
Colonel Stewart of the 2nd battalion. His death was
instantaneous, the regimental colour, which he carried,
immediately fell across his body, and was picked up by
Serjeant McKie, who had scarcely delivered his charge to
the officer, ordered for that purpose, when he himself
received a mortal wound.
Wilson, (who was before wounded at Vimeiro,) was an
Irishman, and had been some years in the regiment.
At the moment when these officers fell, we were passing,
thickly crowded, through a lane enclosed with loose stone
walls, and the fire, to which we were sadly exposed, raked
us most unmercifully. The colours, with the officers around
them, formed a conspicuous mark, against which, with deadly
aim, a fatal shower of bullets was discharged. It was such
hot work, that a man would be inclined to give himself a
_shake_ or two, after all was over, in order to ascertain
whether his head was on his shoulders.
Our ammunition being expended, seventy rounds per man having been
already fired, and all our efforts being unavailing against such
fearful odds, orders were given for us to retire; and, on being
relieved by the Guards, the troops of the 1st Brigade fell back, the
shattered remnant of the 50th resuming its place upon the hill, from
which it had at the outset advanced.
The remainder of the day and great part of the night was employed in
preparations to embark; the huts were, however, occupied, the fires
were kept burning, and every thing arranged so as to prevent the
French from thinking that we intended to decamp without beat of drum.
Soon after nightfall, and when the clash of arms was no longer heard,
an interment of the dead took place, and many a poor fellow, who had a
few hours before been full of life and strength, was now deposited in
his narrow bed. The remains of Major Stanhope were lowered to the
grave by his brother officers and comrades, with their sashes. He had
worn this day a suit of new uniform, and a pair of bright silver
epaulets, in which, with his military cloak around him, upon the same
hour as his lamented chief, he was consigned to an honorable tomb.
While we were engaged in the performance of this melancholy duty, the
Honorable Captain Stanhope of the Guards, aid-de-camp to Sir John
Moore, rode up, directed by the torch light, to the mournful group. It
was the first intimation which he received of his brave relation's
fate. Dismounting, and overcome with grief, he took a last farewell,
and having obtained his ring, together with a lock of hair, he tore
himself hastily away from the heart-rending scene.
It was about 8 o'clock when the troops moved off, in perfect silence
and good order. A strong piquet was left to keep the fires alive, and
watch the enemy's operations. Preparing for a renewed attack upon our
army on the following day, the French camp throughout the night was in
a state of tumult and noisy bustle. The outposts were not allowed much
rest, being serenaded with the din of hammering up their platforms for
the cannon, and sounding the note of preparation for the approaching
tug of war. Little did Marshal Soult know that the bird had flown; for
while he was busy in the midst of all this clamour, the British army
was marching to Corunna, and by daylight was completely embarked. The
soldiers left upon the hill, under the command of Captain Clunes, were
withdrawn about an hour before the clear light of day, on the morning
of the 17th; and taking, not reluctantly, a last farewell of the
encampment, proceeded to the point of embarkation. The lowness of the
tide not admitting the boats to get near to the shore, the men were
compelled to wade above the middle into the water previous to entering
them; hence, so far as regarded this portion of the army, Napoleon's
insolent and oft repeated threats, of driving the English into the
sea, were undoubtedly realized.
Missing their prey, which thus so cunningly slipped from their grasp,
the French were mortified in no small degree. Fighting Jack[15], for
once outwitted, revenged himself by ordering his bulldogs to the water
side, where, being unable to proceed further, he had nothing else to
do, but "grin horribly a ghastly smile," and shew his teeth. By way of
a coup-de-grace, or parting gift, however, he gave us a royal salvo,
which presented to his well-tried antagonists, (who were now on
board), some very striking proofs of his affection, in the very
tangible shape of twenty-four pounders. But we were now beyond his
reach, and he might therefore as well have saved his powder and shot,
which, with all their noise, did us little injury, and only excited
our laughter.
[15] This was the nickname given to Soult by the soldiers.
The piquets were embarked in the Mary, which was at anchor so near the
beach, that for want of something better to do in the way of a little
morning sport, the Marshal made use of our old tub of a transport as a
target, and practised so freely on it, with his heavy missives, that
it was quite time for it to sheer off. Observing this uncivil conduct,
the sea-captain, pale and terrified, with all the horror of a
panic-struck man, cried out, "I'll lose my ship! I'm ruined!" and
running frantic to the bows, he seized upon an axe, and cut the cable.
His vessel being thus allowed to swing round, she became unmanageable,
and as it was blowing a gale of wind at the time, the unfortunate Mary
was driven upon the rocks. The passengers and crew were saved. The
troops, who thus narrowly escaped, were received by the Thomas brig,
and the 50th regiment was taken on board the Ville de Paris of 110
guns.
In the hurry of departing from the Mary, no one thought of going below
deck for any of his baggage; to escape without delay from the battered
vessel was the only object of our ambition; nor, indeed, could a visit
to the cabin be safely attempted. Some, who were on deck with their
bald pates uncovered, took flight without their beavers; thankful, as
the round shots flew across the ship, to decamp with a whole skin.
While we were scrambling into the boats, a ponderous box of dollars,
the property of Captain Gaff, of the 76th, slipped from a sailor's
hands; and as it splashed into the water, poor Gaff stood petrified
with horror, and when it vanished from sight, he looked as if he would
have plunged after it, to rescue the precious treasure.
On the morning of the 18th of January the fleet got under way; and,
after a favourable though boisterous passage, it arrived in England on
the 23rd. We were disembarked at Haslar, and marched from thence to
Gosport, where we remained till the 9th of February, when we proceeded
on our journey to Brabone Lees, in Kent.