COMBAT OF SABUGAL—FUENTES D’ONORO—BATTLE OF ALBUERA—AUTHOR SENT TO
LISBON—GETS INTO TROUBLE—SIEGE OF CIUDAD RODRIGO—GENERAL CRAUFORD
KILLED—FORTITUDE OF THE BRITISH SOLDIERS.
At daylight on the 3rd of April our nearness to the enemy indicated the
approach of another collision. The English general, having ten thousand
men pivoted on the 5th division at Sabugal, designed to turn Reynier’s
left, and surround him before he could be succoured. This well-concerted
plan was marred by one of those accidents to which war is always liable,
and brought on the combat of Sabugal, one of the hottest in which I was
ever engaged. The morning was so foggy that the troops could not gain
their respective posts of attack with that simultaneous regularity which
is so essential to success. Colonel Beckwith, who commanded the first
brigade, halted at a ford to await orders, and at that moment a staff
officer rode up, and somewhat hastily asked why he did not attack. The
thing appeared rash, but with an enemy in front he could make no reply;
and instantly passing the river, which was deep and rapid, mounted a
steep wooded hill on the other side. Many of the men were up to their
middle in water; and a dark, heavy rain coming on, it was impossible for
some time to distinguish friends from foes. The attack was thus made too
soon; for owing to the obscurity, none of the divisions of the army had
reached their respective posts; and Beckwith having only one bayonet
regiment and four companies of riflemen, was advancing against more than
twelve thousand infantry, supported by cavalry and artillery.
Scarcely had the riflemen reached the top of the hill, when a compact
and strong body of French drove them back upon the 43rd. The weather
cleared at that instant, and Beckwith at once saw and felt all his
danger; but, well supported as he was, it was met with a heart that
nothing could shake. Leading a fierce charge, he beat back the enemy,
and the summit of the hill was attained; but at the same moment two
French guns opened with grape, at the distance of a hundred yards, a
fresh body appeared in front, and considerable forces fell upon either
flank of the regiment. Fortunately, Reynier, little expecting to be
attacked, had, for the convenience of water, placed his principal masses
in the low ground behind the height on which the action commenced; his
renewed attack was therefore uphill, yet the musketry, heavy from the
beginning, now increased to a storm. The French mounted the acclivity
with great clamour; and it was evident that nothing but the most
desperate fighting could save the regiment from destruction. Captain
Hopkins, commanding a flank company of the 43rd, immediately ran out to
the right, and with admirable presence of mind seized a small eminence
close to the French guns and commanding the ascent by which the French
troops were approaching. His first fire was so sharp that the assailants
were thrown into confusion, they rallied, and were again confounded by
the volleys of this company; a third time they endeavoured to form an
attack, when Hopkins, with a sudden charge, increased the disorder, and
at the same moment the two battalions of the 52nd regiment, which had
been attracted by the fire, entered the line. Meantime the centre and
left of the 43rd were furiously engaged, and excited beyond all former
precedent. Beckwith, wounded in the head, and with the blood streaming
down his face, rode amongst the foremost of the skirmishers, directing
all with ability, and praising the men in a loud, cheerful tone. I was
close to him at the time. One of our company called out, ‘Old Sydney is
wounded.’ Beckwith heard the remark, and instantly replied, ‘But he
won’t leave you: fight on, my brave fellows: we shall beat them.’ The
musket bullets flew thicker and closer every instant; but the French
fell fast. A second charge cleared the hill, a howitzer was taken, and
the British skirmishers were even advanced a short way down the hill,
when small bodies of French cavalry came galloping in from all parts,
and obliged them to take refuge in the main body of the regiment. Having
brought down a Frenchman by a random shot, I advanced close to the poor
fellow as he lay on his side. Never shall I forget the alarm that was
pictured on his countenance; he thought I was going to bayonet him, to
avert which he held out his knapsack, containing most likely all his
worldly substance, by way of appeasing my wrath. Unwilling to injure a
fallen foe, I did not take his life, and in a few seconds he was
protected by a charge of cavalry.
The English line was now formed behind a stone wall above; yet one
squadron of dragoons surmounted the ascent, and with incredible
desperation, riding up to this wall, were in the act of firing over it
with their pistols, when a rolling volley laid nearly the whole of them
prostrate. By this time, however, a second and stronger column of
infantry had rushed up the face of the hill, endeavouring to break in
and retake the howitzer, which was on the edge of the descent, and only
fifty yards from the wall. But no man could reach it and live, so deadly
was the 43rd’s fire. One of my comrades, having previously passed the
howitzer, took a piece of chalk from his pocket, and, as he said, marked
it as our own, and we were determined to keep it. Reynier, convinced at
last that he had acted unskilfully in sending up his troops in small
parties, put all his reserves, amounting to nearly six thousand
infantry, with artillery and cavalry, into motion, and outflanking the
division on the left, appeared resolved to storm the contested position.
At this critical period the 5th division passed the bridge of Sabugal,
the British cavalry appeared on the hills beyond the enemy’s left, and
General Colville with the leading brigade of the 3rd division issued out
of the woods on Reynier’s right, and opened a fire on the flank that
directly decided the fate of the day. The loss of the allies in this
sanguinary contest, which did not last quite an hour, was nearly two
hundred killed and wounded; that of the enemy was enormous,—three
hundred dead bodies were heaped together on the hill, the greater part
round the captured howitzer; and more than twelve hundred were
wounded,—so unwisely had Reynier managed his masses, and so true and
constant was the English fire. Lord Wellington afterwards observed that
this was one of the most _glorious_ actions that British troops ever
sustained. If by this term we are to understand that a numerous and
well-disciplined force was signally repulsed by one of numerical
inferiority, and that on the British side our national honour was
upheld, he was right. In any other sense, the glories of war are, I am
afraid, of a cast rather ambiguous. I scarcely ever before saw such
determined firmness in our troops. It amounted almost to invincibility.
During the action there was through our ranks to be observed a fierce
and terrible anger, before the breakings forth of which the enemy
quailed and fled. Our fire was given with singular exactness and
rapidity. This fine conduct arose partly from a sense of extreme
personal danger, for of that not a man was insensible; and partly from
the desire, which I believe pervaded every breast, of properly
supporting the officers engaged.
Among others, I had been unusually excited, and had dealt out wounds and
destruction with an unsparing hand. In endeavouring to reach the enemy,
all concern for my own preservation was forgotten. Just as the action
commenced, a round shot struck a horseman close to my side, and brought
him down. Daniel Lowry, an intimate friend, who was also within a few
paces, was slain. My old captain was hit, and badly wounded; his place
was, however, well supplied by Lieutenant Brown, who succeeded in the
command of the company. After the action had ceased, the latter officer
was pleased to take special notice of my conduct, and by his
recommendation I was made corporal in one of the companies of the
regiment. We halted on the field of battle during the succeeding day.
Some of our men were quartered in a chapel which had been recently
occupied by French troops. Nearly the whole of the interior fittings
were destroyed. As the place had been used for Roman Catholic worship,
saints and images, attired in fanciful vestments, ‘black, white, and
grey, with all their trumpery,’ had been abundant. These petty
divinities, despite of their alleged virtues, were upset and destroyed;
some were prostrate on the floor, others were broken and disfigured, not
a few had been consumed, and all that remained of many were a few
glowing embers.
As food now became dreadfully scarce, a small party, of which I was one,
went in search of bread or any other article of sustenance we could
procure. After wandering at least ten or twelve miles from the camp
ground, we observed a young heifer, to which we immediately gave chase;
but the animal was so timid, and withal so swift of foot, that after a
weary pursuit the game was lost. The French soldiers had, in fact, laid
waste the land. Having spread themselves over the surface of many a
league, they had, like a devastating army of locusts, devoured every
particle of food within reach; and what in some respects is worse, what
they did not eat was destroyed. On ascending an eminence, we saw the
smoke of several burning villages. One of the men discovered also, at a
moderate distance, what appeared to be two or three huts; we accordingly
made for them; on arriving near the spot, we found they were tents,
pitched apparently for temporary use. Two or three women and some
children presently appeared, when we asked if they had any bread and
wine to sell; telling them at the same time, to secure their favour,
that we were English soldiers. They were inexorable, and declared they
had nothing; but one of our party, not disposed to credit the ladies,
forced his way into the tent, and dragged out a leathern bottle,
containing perhaps twenty or thirty gallons of liquid. We flattered
ourselves it was wine, but on inspection it was filled with oil. Several
loaves of bread were, however, discovered, with which we made free; but
had nearly paid a high price for the liberty taken. All on a sudden the
whole party of women and children set up a dismal piercing shout, and
almost at the same instant a numerous and armed party of men were
observed rapidly coming down the mountain side upon us. We were few in
number, and unfortunately were without our muskets. Sensible that if
overtaken, our lives were forfeited, a hasty retreat became necessary.
We were chased for several miles; but owing to our superior speed, we at
length left our pursuers behind. When out of the reach of danger, we
halted, almost dead with fatigue, and divided our spoil. It amounted to
a small piece of bread for each; but how sweet that morsel was, no man
can tell but he who has been driven to desperate acts by the call of
biting hunger. The next day our division took the route of Valdespina,
to look out for the enemy on the side of the passes leading upon Coria;
but Masséna was in full retreat for Ciudad Rodrigo, and on the 5th he
crossed the frontier of Portugal; so that Lord Wellington now stood
victorious on the confines of that kingdom, having executed what to
others had appeared incredible and vain.
The pursuit was continued. When Masséna reached the Agueda, his cavalry
detachments, heavy artillery, and convalescents again augmented his army
to more than fifty thousand men; but the fatigue of the retreat and want
of provisions would not suffer him to show a front to the allies; he
therefore fell back to Salamanca, and Lord Wellington invested Almeida.
Our division occupied Gallegos and Espeja, and the rest of the army were
disposed in villages on both sides of the Coa. Here Colonel Waters, who
had been taken near Belmonte, rejoined the army. His escape was most
extraordinary. Confident in his own resources, he had refused his
parole; but when carried to Ciudad Rodrigo, he rashly mentioned his
intention to the Spaniard in whose house he was lodged. This man
betrayed him; but a servant, detesting his master’s treachery, secretly
offered his aid, and Waters coolly allowed him to get the rowels of his
spurs sharpened. When the French army was near Salamanca, Waters, being
in the custody of gendarmes, waited until their chief, who rode the only
good horse in the party, had alighted; then, giving the spur to his own
beast, he galloped off. This was an act of astonishing resolution and
hardihood; for he was on a large plain, and before him and for miles
behind the road was covered with the French columns. His hat fell off,
and thus distinguished, he rode along the flanks of the troops, some
encouraging him, others firing at him, and the gendarmes, sword in hand,
close at his heels; but suddenly breaking at full speed between two
columns, he gained a wooded hollow, and having baffled his pursuers,
evaded the rear of the enemy’s army.
The beautiful village of Fuentes d’Onoro was now destined to suffer. It
had escaped all injury during the previous warfare, though occupied
alternately for above a year by both sides. Every family in it was known
to our division; and it was therefore a subject of deep regret to find
that the preceding troops had pillaged it, leaving only the shells of
houses where, three days before, a friendly population had been living
in comfort. This wanton act was so warmly felt by the whole army, that
eight thousand dollars were afterwards collected by general subscription
for the poor inhabitants; yet the injury sank deeper than the remedy.
The allies occupied a fine table land, lying between the Turones and the
Dos Casos; the left at Fort Conception, the centre towards the village
of Alameda, the right at Fuentes d’Onoro, the whole distance being five
miles. The first and third divisions were concentrated on a gentle
declivity, about a cannon-shot behind Fuentes d’Onoro, where the line of
ground occupied by the army turned back, and ended on the Turones. The
French came up in three columns abreast. General Loison fell upon
Fuentes d’Onoro, which was occupied by five battalions of chosen troops.
Most of the houses in this village were at the bottom of the ravine; but
an old chapel and some buildings on a craggy eminence overhung one end.
The low parts were vigorously defended; yet the violence of the attack
was so great, and the cannonade so heavy, that the British abandoned the
streets, and could scarcely maintain the upper ground; and the fight was
becoming perilous, when three fresh regiments, coming down from the main
position, charged with so little ceremony, that the French were forced
back, and, after a severe contest, finally driven over the stream of Dos
Casos.
On the 4th Masséna arrived; and, having examined all the line, made
dispositions for the next day. Forty thousand infantry, and five
thousand horse, with thirty pieces of artillery were under arms; and
they had shown, in the action of the 3rd, that their courage was not
abated. The position of the English was, on the other hand, not at all
desirable; and it required no common resolution to receive battle on
ground so dangerous. The action began by severe cavalry fighting; and
the British horsemen, being overmatched, retired behind the light
division, which threw itself into squares; but the main body of the
French were upon the seventh division, before the like formation could
be effected; nevertheless the troops stood firm, and, although some were
cut down, the Chasseurs Britanniques, taking advantage of a loose wall,
received the attack with such a fire, that the enemy recoiled.
Immediately after this, a commotion was observed among the French
squadrons; men and officers closed in confusion towards one point, where
a thick dust was arising, and where loud cries and the sparkling of
blades and the flashing of pistols indicating some extraordinary
occurrence. Suddenly the multitude was violently agitated; an English
shout arose, the mass was rent asunder, and Norman Ramsey burst forth at
the head of his battery, his horses on full stretch, and his guns
bounding along like things of no weight, with the mounted gunners in
close and compact order protecting the rear. But while this brilliant
action was passing in one part, the enemy were making progress in the
wood, and it was evident that the battle would soon be lost if the
original position was not immediately regained.
In this posture of affairs, Lord Wellington directed the seventh
division to cross the Turones and move down the left bank to Frenada.
General Crauford, who had resumed the command of the light division,
first covered the passage of the seventh, and then retired slowly over
the plain in squares, having the British cavalry principally on the
right flank. He was followed by the enemy’s horse, which continually
outflanked him, and near the wood surprised and sabred an advanced post
of the Guards, making Colonel Hill and fourteen men prisoners. Several
times Montbrun seemed disposed to storm the light division squares, but
we were too formidable to be meddled with. Yet, on the authority of
Colonel Napier, there was not during the war a more dangerous hour than
this for England. The whole of that vast plain, as far as the Turones,
was covered with a confused multitude, amidst which the squares appeared
but as specks. The seventh division was separated from the army by the
Turones; five thousand French cavalry, with fifteen pieces of artillery,
were close at hand, impatient to charge; the infantry of the eighth
corps was in order of battle behind the horsemen; the wood was filled
with the skirmishers of the sixth corps; and, if the latter body had
issued forth, our division was in imminent danger of being broken. No
effort of the sort was made. Montbrun’s horsemen merely hovered about
our squares; the plain was soon cleared, the cavalry took post behind
the centre, and the light division formed a reserve, sending the
riflemen among the rocks to connect it with the seventh. At sight of
this new front, so deeply lined with troops, the French stopped short,
and commenced a heavy cannonade, which did great execution from the
closeness of the allied masses; but twelve British guns replied with
vigour, and the violence of the hostile fire abated. All this time a
fierce battle was raging at Fuentes d’Onoro. Masséna had directed Drouet
to carry this village, at the very moment when Montbrun’s cavalry should
turn the right wing. It was, however, two hours later when the attack
began. The three British regiments made a desperate resistance, but,
overpowered by numbers, they were pierced and divided; two companies of
the 79th were taken, Colonel Cameron was mortally wounded, and the lower
part of the town was carried. The upper part was, however, stiffly held,
and the rolling of musketry was incessant. In this manner the fight
lasted till the evening, when the lower part of the town was abandoned
by both parties; the British maintaining the crags, and the French
retiring a cannon-shot from the stream. Fifteen hundred men and
officers, of which three hundred were prisoners, comprised the loss of
the allies; that of the enemy was computed at five thousand, but this I
have reason to believe was an exaggerated statement.
The night after the action, I was stationed on the line of sentinels,
not far from the French front, and at the extreme verge of our own. This
service, which demands perpetual vigilance, requires also, on account of
its wearisome and continued toil, no ordinary degree of physical energy,
as the safety of the army itself often depends upon the caution and
alertness with which the outposts are preserved. Often when pacing some
doubtful position, at dead of night, I have applied my ear to the
ground, to try if by that means a distant footstep could be heard. At
the precise time to which I now refer, the feeble voice of many a poor
wounded fellow, calling for help, might be heard. These were, however,
removed by the parties on both sides without delay, after which the dead
were buried with as much decency and respect as circumstances allowed. A
pile of about one hundred and thirty dead bodies, of which one-third
were British, was discovered on a small space at Fuentes d’Onoro; and
several large excavations or graves were formed, in which the remains of
our fallen friends were deposited.
Soon after this period the French were compelled to evacuate Almeida;
but by a singular and ingenious train of operations, the men who
defended it contrived to effect their escape. During the battle of
Fuentes d’Onoro, General Brennier, the governor of Almeida, with his
garrison of fifteen hundred, skirmished boldly with the blockading
force, and loud explosions, supposed to be signals of communication with
the relieving army, were frequently heard. When all hope of succour
vanished, a soldier named Tillet contrived, with extraordinary courage
and presence of mind, to penetrate, although in uniform, through the
posts of the blockade, carrying Brennier orders to evacuate the
fortress. The blockade, it would appear, was imperfectly maintained.
This was noticed by Brennier, who prepared to force his way through the
encircling troops. An open country and a double line of troops greatly
enhanced the difficulty; yet Brennier was resolved, not only to cut his
own passage, but to render the fortress useless to the allies. To effect
this, he ruined all the principal bastions, and kept up a constant fire
of his artillery, so directed that the mouth of one piece crossed that
of another; while therefore some shots flew towards the besiegers, and a
loud explosion was heard, others destroyed pieces without attracting
notice. At midnight, on the 10th, all being ready, he sprang his mines,
sallied forth in a compact column, broke through the piquets, and passed
between the quarters of the reserves with a nicety that proved at once
his talent of observation and his coolness. General Pack followed with a
few men collected at the instant, and plied him with a constant fire;
yet nothing could shake or retard his column, which in silence, and
without returning a shot, gained the rough country upon Barba del
Puerco. Here it halted for a moment, just as daylight broke; and Pack,
who was at hand, hearing that some English dragoons were in a village,
sent an officer to bring them out, thus occasioning a slight skirmish,
and consequent delay. The troops of the blockade had paid little
attention at first to the explosion of the mines, thinking them a
repetition of Brennier’s previous practice; but Pack’s fire having
aroused them, the 36th regiment was close at hand; and the 4th also,
having heard the firing at Valde Mula, was rapidly gaining the right
flank of the enemy. Brennier, having driven off the cavalry, was again
in march; yet the British regiments, having thrown off their knapsacks,
followed at such a pace that they overtook the rear of his column in the
act of descending the deep chasm of Barba del Puerco, killed and wounded
many, captured about three hundred, and even passed the bridge in
pursuit. Lord Wellington, it is said, was stung by this event, and
issued a remonstrance to the army, couched in terms which no one could
misunderstand.
When Marmont had thus recovered the garrison of Almeida, he withdrew the
greater part of his army to Salamanca. Lord Wellington also set out for
that province; but before he could arrive, a great and bloody battle had
closed the operations. Beresford held a conference with the Spanish
generals at Valverde, on the 13th, when it was resolved to abide the
enemy’s attack at Albuera. The position taken by the allied forces was,
it is said, singularly defective. It was occupied by thirty thousand
infantry, above two thousand cavalry, and thirty-eight pieces of
artillery; but the brigade of the fourth division being still absent,
the British infantry, the pith and strength of the battle, did not
amount to seven thousand. The French had fifty guns, and above four
thousand veteran cavalry, but only nineteen thousand chosen infantry;
yet being of one nation, obedient to one discipline, and animated by one
spirit, their excellent composition amply compensated for inferiority of
numbers. Beside which, it is acknowledged by military men, that the
talents of their general were immeasurably greater than those of his
adversary. Soult examined Beresford’s position without hindrance on the
evening of the 15th, and having detected the weakness of the entire
arrangement, resolved to attack the next morning. Passing by the varied
evolutions which preceded the contest, it may be sufficient to observe,
that a little before nine in the morning, Godinet’s division issued from
the woods in one heavy column of attack, preceded by ten guns. He was
flanked by the light cavalry, and followed by Werle’s division of
reserve; and, making straight towards the bridge, commenced a sharp
cannonade, attempting to force the passage. The allies’ guns, on the
rising ground above the village, answered the fire of the French, and
ploughed through their columns, which were crowding without judgment
towards the bridge, although the stream was fordable above and below.
Beresford, convinced that the principal effort would be on the right,
sent Blake orders to form a part of the first and all the second line of
the Spanish army on the broad part of the hills, at right angles to
their actual front. Soon after, the enemy’s columns began to appear on
the right; and Blake, moving at last, proceeded in the evolution with
such pedantic slowness, that Beresford, impatient of his folly, took the
direction in person. Great was the confusion and delay thus occasioned;
and before the troops could be put in order, the French were among them.
In one short half-hour Beresford’s situation was rendered nearly
desperate. Two-thirds of the French were in compact order of battle, on
a line perpendicular to his right, and his army, disordered, and
composed of different nations, was still in the difficult act of
changing its front. The Spaniards were already in disorder; some had
given way; and Soult, thinking that the whole army was yielding, pushed
forward his columns, while his reserves also mounted the hill, and all
the batteries were placed in position. At this critical moment, General
Stewart arrived with Colonel Colborne’s brigade, which formed the head
of the second division. The colonel seeing the confusion above, desired
to form in order of battle previous to mounting the ascent; but Stewart,
carried away by the impetuosity of his feelings, led up without any
delay in column of companies, and attempted to open out his line in
succession as the battalions arrived at the summit. Being under a
destructive fire, the foremost charged to gain room, but a heavy rain
prevented any object from being distinctly seen; and four regiments of
Hussars and Lancers, which had passed the right flank in obscurity, came
galloping in upon the rear of the line, at the instant of its
development, and slew or took two-thirds of the brigade. In the tumult,
a lancer fell upon Beresford, but the marshal, a man of great strength,
putting his spear aside, cast him from his saddle; and a shift of wind
blowing aside the mist and smoke, the mischief was perceived from the
plains by General Lumley, who sent four squadrons out upon the Lancers,
and cut many of them off.
During this unhappy effort of the second division, so great was the
confusion that the Spanish line continued to fire, although the British
were before them; on which Beresford, finding his exhortations to
advance fruitless, seized an ensign, and bore him and his colours by
main force to the front. Yet the troops would not follow, and the man
went back again on being released. At this juncture, Sir William Stewart
once more advanced; and the weather having cleared, he poured a dreadful
fire into the thickest of the French columns, convincing Soult, that
whatever might be the result, the day was not yet won. Houghton’s
regiments soon got footing on the summit, Dickson placed the artillery
in line; the remaining brigade of the second division came up on the
left; and two Spanish corps at last moved forward. The enemy’s infantry
then recoiled; yet soon recovering, renewed the fight with greater
violence than before. The cannon on both sides discharged showers of
grape at half range, and the peals of musketry were incessant, and often
within pistol-shot. But the close formation of the French embarrassed
their battle, and the British line would not yield them one inch of
ground nor a moment of time to open their ranks. Their fighting was,
however, fierce and dangerous. Stewart was twice hurt, Colonel Duckworth
of the 48th was slain, and the valiant Houghton, who had received many
wounds without shrinking, fell, and died in the act of encouraging his
men.
Still the combat raged with unabated fury. Colonel Inglis, twenty-two
officers, and more than four hundred men, out of five hundred and
seventy that had ascended the hill, fell in the 57th alone. And the
other regiments were much the same in loss; not one-third were standing
in any. Ammunition failed; and as the English fire slackened, the enemy
established a column in advance upon the right flank. The play of
Dickson’s artillery checked them for a moment, but again the Polish
Lancers charged, and captured six guns. In this desperate crisis,
Colonel Hardinge boldly ordered Cole to advance; and then riding to
Colonel Abercrombie, who commanded the remaining brigade of the second
division, directed him also to push forward into the fight. The die
being thus cast, the terrible battle was continued. The field was heaped
with carcases; the lancers were riding furiously about the captured
artillery on the upper slope of the hill, and on the lower parts a
Spanish and an English regiment, in mutual error, were exchanging
volleys; behind all, some Portuguese, in withdrawing from the heights
above the bridge, appeared to be in retreat. All now appeared to be
lost, when all was in a few minutes gained by the conduct of a few brave
and unconquerable men. Colonel Arbuthnot pushing between the fire of the
mistaken troops, enlightened their minds; while Cole, with the
Fusileers, flanked by a battalion of the Lusitanian legion, mounted the
hill, dispersed the lancers, recovered the captured guns, and soon
appeared on the right of Houghton’s brigade.
Such a gallant line issuing from the midst of the smoke, and rapidly
separating itself from the confused and broken multitude, startled the
enemy’s heavy masses, which were increasing and pressing onwards as to
an assured victory; they wavered, hesitated, and then vomiting forth a
storm of fire, hastily endeavoured to enlarge their front, while a
fearful discharge of grape from all their artillery whistled through the
British ranks. Myers was killed; Cole and the three colonels, Ellis,
Blakeny, and Hawkshawe, fell wounded; and the fusileer battalions,
struck by the iron tempest, began to reel. In that moment, when the last
particle of energy appeared to be gone, they arose in almost
unprecedented might, and surpassed their former selves. Closing at once
with their enemies, the strength and intrepidity of a British soldier
were exhibited in deeds seldom seen. In vain did Soult, by voice and
gesture, animate his Frenchmen; in vain did the hardiest veterans,
extricating themselves from the crowded columns, sacrifice their lives
to gain time for the mass to open out on so fair a field; in vain did
the mass itself bear up, and, fiercely striving, fire indiscriminately
upon friends and foes, while the horsemen, hovering on the flank,
threatened to charge the advancing line. Nothing could stop that
astonishing infantry. Their eyes were bent on the dark columns in front;
their firm, heavy, and measured tread shook the ground; their dreadful
volleys swept away the head of every formation; their deafening shouts
overpowered the dissonant cries that broke from all parts of the
tumultuous crowd, as foot by foot, and with horrid carnage, it was
driven by the vigour of the attack to the extreme edge of the hill. Here
the last stand was made, with the hope of averting this mountain
torrent. But it was in vain: the effort only served to increase the
irremediable confusion; and the mighty mass giving way, like a loosened
cliff, went headlong down the ascent.
The rain flowed after in streams discoloured with blood; and of six
thousand British soldiers who performed these wonders, fifteen hundred
unwounded men were all that remained upon the fatal hill. The serious
fighting had endured only four hours; and in that space of time nearly
seven thousand of the allies and above eight thousand of their
antagonists were struck down. Three French generals were wounded, two
slain, and eight hundred soldiers so badly hurt as to be left on the
field. On Beresford’s side, beside the loss of the British already
named, two thousand Spaniards and six hundred Germans and Portuguese
were killed or wounded. The trophies of the French were five hundred
unwounded prisoners, a howitzer, and several stand of colours; the
British had nothing of that sort to display; but the piles of carcases
within their lines told, with convincing eloquence, who were the
conquerors; and all the night the rain poured down, and the rivers and
hills and woods resounded with the groans of dying men. On the 18th
Soult retreated.
Towards winter I was charged with a mission to fetch clothing from
Lisbon for the use of the regiment. One description of article was
flannel shirts, of which I received six hundred, for the approaching
winter wear. On returning, I met with an accident, which had nearly
deprived me of sight. One of our party, with consummate carelessness,
placed his powder-horn upon the table, fully charged, and by some
accident the whole quantity exploded; my face was sadly scorched, but
providentially the organs of vision received no lasting injury. Our
party consisted of six or seven persons: of these, three were corporals,
of whom I was senior. Having to pass over several mountains of vast
height, our progress was necessarily slow. One evening, having ascended
the slope of a stupendous hill, on which the snow was deep, we were
unable to move the cars on which the stores were carried. Having also
but an imperfect knowledge of the pass, we found ourselves compelled to
spend the night in that bleak and desolate region. All the shelter we
could procure was to creep under the cars. Two of the men were soon
after seized with ague, and suffered extremely. The silence which
prevailed in this elevated region was singularly impressive.
After a wearisome night, which appeared almost endless, we were happy to
perceive the first morning ray. We soon after discovered a man coming
our way, driving two bullocks. I thought the omen a happy one; and in
the spirit of the national war then raging I ordered the man to stop,
and without hesitation pressed the animals into our service, by yoking
them to our cars. The driver demanded my authority for so doing. I told
him to look at my musket. To my dismay I afterwards found that some of
the troops had been in the habit of laying violent hands upon cattle,
having no other object in view than to extort money from the owners when
they applied to reclaim their property. To put down this practice, Lord
Wellington had issued a proclamation, of which, unfortunately, I had not
heard, denouncing these excesses in terms of great severity. In fact,
strange as it appeared to myself, who had no intention of violating
general orders, on my arrival at quarters I was handed over to the
provost-marshal, deprived of my arms and acoutrements, and thrown into
confinement among some of the most ill-favoured vagabonds that ever
infested man or beast. The officer in whose custody I was placed proved
himself one of Job’s comforters. He gave me to understand that not long
since a man in the 52nd had been shot for the exact crime of which I was
guilty; he then closed the prison-door and departed. Conscious, however,
that I had intended neither to rob nor injure, my mind was supported.
Let me tell an old-fashioned secret: the Almighty has always been my
guide and defence. What is more, He always will. But, says an objector,
this is rank fanaticism. That I cannot help: such is the truth; nor can
it be altered by the coinage of any term, whether of approval or
reproach. On the occasion now described, I was released as if nothing
had happened. After my enlargement had taken place, I found that my
worthy comrades had been to the owner of the animals, and had exhausted
the entire circle of a soldier’s pleading on my behalf. I was young, had
not heard of the late order, knew no better, used no violence, asked for
no money, was an Irishman; beside which they gave him to understand that
I was a good Catholic, to which I believe they subjoined a little cash
in hand. These two latter arguments were irresistible, and the matter
was smoothly settled.
The new year opened with uncommon effort on the side of the British
forces in Spain. Lord Wellington, whose means of collecting information
were extensive and correct, had discovered that a considerable reduction
had taken place in the French army. The Imperial Guards, seventeen
thousand strong, were required for the Russian war, and had returned to
France; so that the force in the Peninsula was diminished by sixty
thousand men. Marmont was also deceived, by what appeared to him the
careless winter attitude of the allies, and Ciudad Rodrigo was left
unprotected. The Frenchman was mistaken; and Wellington resolved to show
that he was, by grasping at that fortress. The troops disposable for the
attack of Ciudad Rodrigo were about thirty-five thousand, including
cavalry. From the scarcity of transports, only thirty-eight guns could
be brought to the trenches, and these would have wanted their proper
supply of ammunition if eight thousand shot had not been found among the
ruins of Almeida. When the place was closely examined, it was found that
the French, in addition to the old works, had fortified two convents.
They had also constructed an enclosed and pallisadoed redoubt upon the
Greater Teson; and this redoubt, called Francisco, was supported by two
guns and a howitzer, placed upon the flat roof of the convent of that
name. On minutely inspecting these enlarged works, it was resolved to
storm Fort Francisco, and, opening the first parallel along the Greater
Teson, to form counter-batteries with which to ruin the defences and
drive the besieged from the convent. Meanwhile, to cover the siege,
Julian Sanchez and Carlos d’Espana were posted in observation of the
enemy.
On the 8th of January, the eighth division and some Portuguese forded
the Agueda near Caridad, three miles above the fortress, and making a
circuit took post beyond the Great Teson. As there was no regular
investment, the enemy did not believe that the siege was commenced; but
in the evening the troops stood to their arms, and Colonel Colborne,
commanding the 52nd, having assembled two companies from each of the
British regiments of the light division, stormed the redoubt of
Francisco: of this party I had the honour to make one. The attack was so
rapid and furious that the assailants appeared to be at one and the same
time in the ditch, mounting the parapets, fighting on the top of the
rampart, and forcing the gorge of the redoubt, where the explosion of
one of the French shells had burst the gate open. The post was taken
with the loss only of twenty-four men and officers; and working parties
were set to labour on the right of it, for the fort itself was instantly
covered with shot and shells from the town. This tempest continued
through the night; but at day-break the parallel, six hundred yards in
length, was sunk three feet deep and four wide; the communication over
the Teson to the rear was completed, and the progress of the siege was
hastened several days by this well-managed assault. I was exposed to the
fire of the enemy for some time previous to our arrival at the fort, but
sustained no injury. We were discovered when about a hundred and fifty
yards from the fort.
After the redoubt had been taken, I was employed with several others in
escorting the prisoners to a place of safety. The garrison, it seems,
had no expectation of this unceremonious visit; and when we entered the
place I observed several packs of cards, with which the men had been
amusing themselves. On returning, I unexpectedly came in contact with a
French soldier, who by some means or other had escaped notice. I called
out instantly, desiring him to surrender, which he did; but while in the
act of conducting him to the others, a British sergeant, who deserves to
be named, but on whom compassionate silence shall be shown, stopped the
prisoner for the sake of plunder. Enraged at this unjust and
discreditable interference, I placed my gun on the ground, determined to
knock down the interloper, and secure my captive. A scuffle accordingly
ensued; when in an instant, we found to our dismay that further
contention was needless. The Frenchman observing our quarrel, instantly
took to his heels, and being exceedingly alert, was out of sight before
I could fire at him.
On the 12th we were employed in the trenches, from whence we picked off
the enemy’s gunners. The riflemen, also, taking advantage of a thick
fog, did great execution; but in the night the weather was so cold and
the besieged shot so briskly, that little progress was made. Two days
afterwards, the enemy, having observed that the men in the trenches went
off in a disorderly manner on the approach of the relief, made a sally,
and overturned the gabions of the sap; they even penetrated to the
parallel, and were upon the point of entering the batteries, when a few
of the workmen getting together, checked them until a support arrived,
and thus the guns were saved. This affair, together with the death of
the engineer on duty, and the heavy fire from the town, delayed the
opening of the breaching batteries; but at half past four in the
evening, twenty-five heavy guns battered the rampart, and two pieces
were directed against the convent of Francisco. The spectacle was
sublime. The enemy replied by more than fifty pieces; the bellowing of
eighty large guns shook the ground far and wide; the smoke rested in
heavy columns upon the battlements of the place; the walls crashed to
the blow of the bullet; and when night put an end to this turmoil, the
quick clatter of musketry was heard like the pattering of hail after a
peal of thunder; for the 40th regiment assaulted and carried the convent
of Francisco, and established itself on the suburb on the left of the
attack.
On the 17th the firing on both sides was very heavy, and the wall of the
place was beaten down in large cantles; but several of the besiegers’
guns were dismounted, their batteries injured, and many of their men
killed. General Borthwick, the commandant of the artillery, was wounded,
and the sap was entirely ruined. Even the riflemen in the pits were at
first overpowered with grape; yet towards evening they recovered the
upper hand, and the French could fire only from the more distant
embrasures. In the night the battery intended for the lesser breach was
armed, and that on the Lower Teson raised, so as to afford cover in the
day-time. On the 19th it was reported that both breaches were
practicable, and a plan of attack was immediately formed.
All the troops reached their different posts without seeming to attract
the attention of the enemy; but before the signal was given, and while
Lord Wellington was still at the convent of Francisco, the attack on the
right commenced, and was instantly taken up along the whole line. The
space between the army and the ditch was then ravaged by a tempest of
grape from the ramparts. The storming parties of the third division
jumped out of the parallel when the first shout arose; but so rapid had
been the movements on their right, that before they could reach the
ditch three regiments had already scoured the faussebraye, and were
pushing up the great breach, amid the bursting of shells, the whistling
of grape and muskets, and the shrill cries of the French, who were
driven fighting behind the retrenchments. There, however, they rallied,
and, aided by the musketry from the houses, made hard battle for their
post; none would go back on either side, and yet the British could not
get forward; and men and officers, falling in heaps, choked up the
passage, which was incessantly raked with grape from two guns flanking
the top of the breach at the distance of a few yards. It was now our
turn. We had three hundred yards to clear; but, impatient of delay, we
did not wait for the hay-bags, but swiftly ran to the crest of the
glacis, jumped down the scarp, a depth of eleven feet, and rushed up the
faussebraye, under a smashing discharge of grape and musketry. The
bottom of the ditch was dark and intricate, and the forlorn hope took
too much to their left; but the storming party went straight to the
breach, which was so contracted that a gun placed lengthwise across the
top nearly blocked up the opening. Here the forlorn hope rejoined the
stormers; but when two-thirds of the ascent were gained, the leading
men, crushed together by the narrowness of the place, staggered under
the weight of the enemy’s fire. Our commander, Major Napier, was at this
moment struck to the earth by a grape-shot, which shattered his arm, but
he called to his men to trust to their bayonets; and all the officers
simultaneously sprang to the front, when the charge was renewed with a
furious shout, and the entrance was gained. The supporting regiments
then came up in sections abreast, and the place was won. During the
contest, which lasted only for a few minutes after the faussebraye was
passed, the fighting had continued at the great breach with unabated
violence; but when the 43rd and the stormers of the light division came
pouring down on the right flank of the French, the latter yielded to the
storm; at the same moment the explosion of three wall-magazines
destroyed many persons, and the third division with a mighty effort
broke through the retrenchments. The garrison fought for a short time in
the streets, but finally fled to the castle, where an officer, who,
though wounded, had been amongst the foremost at the lesser breach,
received the governor’s sword.
[Illustration: STORMING OF CIUDAD RODRIGO.]
The allies now plunged into the streets from all quarters; after which,
throwing off the restraints of discipline, frightful excesses were
committed. The town was fired in three or four places; the soldiers
menaced their officers, and shot each other; many were killed in the
market-place; intoxication soon increased the disorder; and at last, the
fury rising to an absolute madness, a fire was wilfully lighted in the
middle of the great magazine, when the town, and all in it, would have
been blown to atoms, but for the energetic courage of some officers and
a few soldiers, who still preserved their senses. Three hundred French
had fallen, fifteen hundred were made prisoners; and beside the immense
store of ammunition, above one hundred and fifty pieces of artillery
were captured in the place. The whole loss of the allies was about
twelve hundred soldiers, and ninety officers; and of these above six
hundred and fifty men, and sixty officers, had been slain or hurt in the
breaches. General Crauford and General Mackinnon were killed. With these
died many gallant men, and amongst others, a captain in the regiment to
which I belonged. Of him it was felicitously said, that ‘three generals
and seventy other officers had fallen; but the soldiers fresh from the
strife only talked of Hardyman.’ Unhappily, the slaughter did not end
with the battle; for the next day, as the prisoners and their escort
were marching out by the breach, an accidental explosion took place, and
numbers of both were blown into the air. The personal sufferings of the
soldiers were severe, as the service had been unusually dangerous. While
in the front ditch near the glacis, a live shell exploded within a few
paces of the spot on which I stood. We threw ourselves flat on the
ground, but though nearly suffocated by the dust it threw around, no
material injury was inflicted either on myself or comrades.
The station I was ordered to take on the following day was of a
melancholy cast. It was in the ditch, among the unburied dead. Nothing
struck me more forcibly than the conduct of a soldier’s widow.
Suspecting that her husband had fallen, she traversed this vale of death
to seek him. Never shall I forget the anguish of her soul when she
discovered the much-loved remains. The brave man had fallen covered with
wounds; his countenance was sadly disfigured, and suffused with blood.
She fell upon his face, and kissed his faded lips; she then gazed at the
lifeless form, repeated her embraces, and gave way to the wild and
ungovernable grief which struggled for expression. Sin! what hast thou
done? Nor can I forbear observing, that a noble disregard for suffering,
and fortitude of no common kind, were frequently shown both by officers
and men, though severely hurt and disabled. None retired to the rear,
until compelled by stern necessity. This resolute disposition to
surmount, and if possible forget all surmountable difficulties, reminds
me of a French royalist officer, in the late revolutionary war. Being
engaged in a desperate action, he had the misfortune to have both his
legs carried away by a cannon-ball. While lying on the ground, a wounded
soldier indulged in loud and clamorous complaints: ‘Peace, friend,’ said
the officer, ‘our God died upon the cross; our king perished on the
scaffold; and I have lost my limbs. Revere the Almighty, and be
patient.’
The siege of Ciudad Rodrigo lasted twelve days. When the
commander-in-chief terminated his order for the assault, with this
sentence, ‘Ciudad Rodrigo _must_ be stormed this evening,’ he knew well
that it would be nobly understood. The difficulties we had to encounter
were great. The principal breach was cut off from the town by a
perpendicular descent of sixteen feet; and the bottom was planted with
sharp spikes, and strewed with live shells. The houses behind were all
loop-holed and sprinkled with musketeers.
The French had left their temporary bridges, but behind were parapets so
powerfully defended, that it was said the third division could never
have carried them, had not the light division taken the enemy in flank.
To recompense an exploit so boldly undertaken and so nobly finished,
Lord Wellington was created Duke of Ciudad Rodrigo, by the Spaniards,
Earl of Wellington, by the English, and Marquis of Torres Vedras, by the
Portuguese.
[Illustration]