The writer of this narrative being wounded, he joined the long train
of maimed and mutilated aspirants for honour and glory, who wended
their way slowly and with painful steps to the City of Vittoria, where
the principal hospital stations for the army were established. The
cavalcade was not of that description which will excite any
pleasurable emotions in the mind; those of despondency were the most
prevailing, which the departure from our brother soldiers was not in
any degree calculated to diminish. However, this being all the
"fortune of war," we jogged along patiently, some on mules, others on
waggons, and not a few on the humble jackass, forming on the whole a
procession of so motley and varied a character that, by the time we
reached our journey's end, we were not unlike Sir John Falstaff's
recruits, with whom he was ashamed to enter Coventry. We cut a most
interesting appearance, some with heads tied up, and some with limbs,
as we made our entré at a funereal pace, exhausted and chopfallen,
loaded with as plentiful a supply of _fame_ as the most zealous
amateur could desire. Nothing could exceed the anxiety depicted in the
countenances of those who had been in Vittoria, since the battle
there. So many vague reports had been circulated with regard to the
army, that they were unacquainted with the true state of things, and
hastened to meet the travellers, as they approached the town, and with
deeply interested looks enquired the fate of their brave companions in
the field. Accompanied by our friends, who kindly sympathized with us,
each of us repaired to his proper quarters. Mine were at the house of
a respectable looking man, who, though a Spaniard, proved by his
manner and conduct that in his heart he was a Frenchman. To his
spouse, a dame not unworthy of so treacherous a helpmate, our
application for any means of comfort or accommodation was of no avail,
and beyond the luxury of a hard mattress, upon a harder floor, with
bare walls to look at, neither I, nor any of the luckless cavaliers
that were billetted under the roof of these inhospitable people, could
obtain any thing whatever.
Los Franceses were the favourites; and as for the English, our patron
would have rejoiced at their expulsion from the country. Doubtless,
this partisan held a different style of language, when he was
informed, that his very particular friends were completely ousted from
every part of Spain. In a front room of this mansion, the occupant was
Lieut. Alexander H. Pattison of the 74th regiment, who was severely
wounded at Vittoria, and whose society and conversation contributed
greatly to relieve the tedium of our solitary lodging. Pattison was
above seven years eldest lieutenant in the 74th, and became, in the
course of time, Lieut. Colonel of the 2nd West India Regiment, in the
command of which he died at the Bahamas.
Captain Gough, of the 68th, was quartered in the next house, where we
passed some pleasant days, while comparing notes on the subject of our
late adventures. Poor Gough I never saw again. He was a passenger from
America, (where his regiment was quartered), in the Union Packet,
which was shipwrecked off the coast of Ireland, and was among those
who unfortunately perished.
Vittoria is a well built and populous city, with regular streets, and
a handsome Square. The country around is abundant in all the
productions of so fine a climate, and did not seem to have experienced
any of those evils incident to war. The inhabitants in general treated
the British officers with civility, but many were inwardly our
enemies. Some time after our arrival, however, they thought it better
policy to affect a degree of reverence for us, and make wondrous
professions, of the sincerity of which we had certain doubts.
It was during our stay here, that the Honorable Captain Gore, of the
94th regiment, was put to death by a party sent to force an entrance
into his quarters, in order to convey from thence a lovely and
interesting damsel, whom that officer had taken under his protection.
Of this tragical event there has been so many different versions,
that, if I were to relate the particulars as reported at the time, the
account would probably vary from others that were published. I shall
therefore forbear from any detail of the painful and melancholy
narrative. The gallant Captain was certainly imprudent in resisting
the Spanish authorities. Knowing as he did the prejudices of the
country, the results of the ill-fated attachment might have easily been
foreseen; for, thus to get involved so seriously with a fair Senorita
could not fail to exasperate and excite the vengeance of her
family.--The unfortunate affair was truly to be deplored on every
account. Gore was a fine promising young man, and his inamorata (since
entombed within a convent), was beautiful.
The good people of Vittoria enjoyed themselves, while we remained, as
much as any other set of mortals in this transitory state of being.
Apparently indifferent as to what might become of their politics, they
assembled, during the cool and refreshing hours of evening, in groups
around the doors, making merry among each other with lively
chattering, and peals of laughter, that flew, in a sort of running
fire, from one end of the city to the other.
About this time, the celebration of a grand festival, in honour of one
of their numerous saints, was going forward. During its continuance,
the place was in a state of noisy uproar, and the people were infected
with a sort of dancing mania, enough to gladden the heart of St. Vitus
himself. We were insufferably tormented with the unmerciful squealing
of fifes, and upon the parchment they were perpetually drumming in our
ears.
Between the hours of feasting, the towns-people, of all ranks and
ages, sallied from their dwellings; old and young, rich and poor, were
on the pavé, from the child in leading strings, to the wrinkled hag of
eighty, all afflicted with the mania. On a signal for a general
ballet, and the music striking up, the crazy multitude, electrified in
every limb, commenced an exhibition of gymnastics unequalled by the
most skilful artist, sufficient to make even an anchorite grin and
stare. It was quite amusing to see the aged spinster, whose charms
were faded by the hand of time, with pinioned elbows, tripping it with
an antiquated beau; the withered grandame hobbling on her feeble pins
to some venerable don; and the smirking lass with amorous eye, and
attitudes enticing, figuring away with a gallant cavaleiro. It was, in
short, a most ridiculous display of asses in human form. The Shakers
of America, or the dancing Dervishes of Turkey, were in comparison
tame. Pushing, jostling, screaming, and ogling, seemed to be all the
mode throughout the motley crowd, so that were a stranger suddenly to
make his appearance, he would fancy that the inmates of some lunatic
asylum had been liberated, and were playing off their antics through
the town. Ever and anon, some would retire within their doors, but
other fools supplied their place, and in single ranks arrayed on
either side the street, like those drawn up in a country dance, they
exhibited in a style that Vestris might have wondered at.
There was a curious medley of mirth and sadness throughout the city,
which to the sufferer and the invalid was but a mockery of his woes.
Quietness and peace would have been far more grateful than such
ill-timed, unwelcome and vociferous revels.
Early in September, 1813, accompanied by Lieutenant Rhodes, of the
39th regiment, I set out from Vittoria, on the route to Bilboa, for
the purpose of embarking for England. Proceeding towards the northern
Provinces, we arrived at Tolosa on the following day, where we
remained one night. The landlord of the posada at which we brought up,
was a very humorous character, and also an extremely odd fish; but he
was one who had an eye to business, taking good care of the main
chance, for, hearing of the success of the British arms, and that some
of the troops were likely to pass that way, he fitted up his hotel in
good style, and went to such expense, that it would have been a pity
had he been disappointed. With regard to the exterior of his premises,
he was determined to make a display of his loyalty, and therefore put
up the sign of Fernando Settimo, whose ugly countenance was no great
attraction to the traveller. By his conversation, in a sort of mongrel
Anglo-Spanish dialect, one would suppose that he was a veritable
patriot, and that he reverenced the English. The inscription on his
signboard, however, seemed to put a different face on the matter; for
by his own shewing it would appear that upon the thick skull of this
worthy the organ of destructiveness was strongly marked, or, in other
words, that he was neither more nor less than a cannibal. The
passenger, therefore, might well start with horror, on perusing the
aforesaid notice, which by the arrangement of the painter, ran thus:
"FRANCISCO PEREZ, ESTALAGEM
FOR EATING
GENTLEMEN LODGED WITHIN."
Poor Francisco was evidently not in the school-master's line of march;
for in his attempt at an English sign, by not minding his own _stops_,
he publicly forewarned all who might be journeying that way, that
_their stops_ in this world should not be of long duration. Giving
nevertheless this honest Spaniard full credit for all his promises of
civility, and having no particular dread of being hashed up into
minced meat, or an olla-podrida, we lodged ourselves in his hostelry,
happy, after a long and fatiguing march, to get a place of rest, even
under such inauspicious circumstances.
We arrived at Bilboa in a few days, having had rather a pleasant
though protracted journey. Rhodes being a good travelling companion,
we got on smoothly enough, with a certain independence of character
very much to be envied; for as we were entirely out of the range of
adjutants, orderly books, and other such unfashionable concerns, we
felt like gentlemen at large, with light hearts, and, not being
overburdened with cash, with still lighter pockets. As to our worldly
goods and chattels, we might apply to ourselves Jack's favourite ditty.
"A handkerchief held all the treasure I had,
Which over my shoulder I threw," &c.
We found at Bilboa much kindness and hospitality, and were lodged in
quarters that a prime minister might have envied. Like other large
communities, the place had a lively and social aspect, which
appearance was considerably improved by fresh importations of John
Newcomes from England, in search of laurels and broken pates, as well
as hard goers from the army, with their brows already crowned, but
minus in the usual complement of legs and arms. The weather proved
unfavourable, and prevented our seeing the lions of the place, but, as
those are not generally numerous or curious in the Spanish towns, our
loss was nothing to grieve about, nor do I think that, had we seen
them, the description would have been either amusing or edifying.
On the 29th of September, we entered the small sea-port of Passages,
having, in our route from Bilboa, lodged in several good looking
places. After concluding every arrangement with regard to our affairs,
we embarked on the 5th of October, in a small brig, bound for
Plymouth, taking final leave of a country where, for so long a period,
we had been engaged in all varieties of campaigning, and where, amidst
the toils and dangers of our wandering life, we experienced some happy
days, with so much of unmingled pleasure, that, although we were
proceeding homeward to our beloved native land, more of sadness than
of joy was felt when parting from the shore.
Before we got out into the open sea, we sailed through an intricate
and narrow passage, which seemed, as it were, a natural fissure of
tremendous depth, violently rent asunder, by earthquake or volcanic
agency, through the steep and precipitous mountain ridge by which this
part of the coast is bound. The scenery, in the midst of the close and
dangerous channel, was of a desolate character. There was no apparent
means of egress from the dark and gloomy chasm, walled in on either
side by huge rocks, rising far above the topmast head, and the
hazardous attempt to steer a vessel through in stormy weather, would
prove fatal to those who might rashly undertake the perilous
navigation.
Our voyage across the Bay of Biscay was unattended with any thing
remarkable or uncommon, and was in every way as favourable as could be
wished. In about five days we landed at Plymouth, rejoicing at the
idea of being once more on the shores of Britain.