THE BATTLE OF CORUNNA.
1809.
A period of inaction succeeded the victory at Vimiero. Burrard was
superseded in his command by Sir Hew Dalrymple, and the convention
of Cintra perfected, by which an army was restored to France, that,
had Sir Arthur Wellesley’s advice been attended to, must have been
eventually destroyed or driven into such extremity as should have
produced an unconditional surrender. Other articles in this disgraceful
treaty recognised a full exercise of rights of conquest to the French,
secured to them the enormous plunder their rapacity had accumulated,
and granted an amnesty to every traitor who had abandoned his country,
and aided the invaders in effecting its subjugation. No wonder that
this precious convention occasioned in Britain a universal feeling of
disgust. No wonder that blood spilled in vain, and treasure uselessly
wasted, roused popular indignation to a pitch of excitement which no
occurrence in modern history can parallel.
Within twelve months from the commencement of the war Britain had sent
over to the Spanish armies (besides £2,000,000) 150 pieces of field
artillery, 42 thousand rounds of ammunition, 200 thousand muskets,
61 thousand swords, 79 thousand pikes, 23 million ball cartridges, 6
million leaden balls, 15 thousand barrels of gunpowder, 92 thousand
suits of clothing, 356 thousand sets of accoutrements and pouches,
310 thousand pairs of shoes, 37 thousand pairs of boots, 40 thousand
tents, 250 thousand yards of cloth, 10 thousand sets of camp equipage,
118 thousand yards of linen, 50 thousand great coats, 50 thousand
canteens, 54 thousand haversacks, with a variety of other stores, far
too numerous to be recapitulated.
The particulars of the treaty of Cintra, immediately on being known
in Britain, occasioned the recall of Sir Hew Dalrymple; while under
the plea of ill health, his colleague, Sir Harry Burrard, resigned and
returned home. What a different result the Portuguese campaign would
have exhibited had these two old gentlemen been left in a district
command, and not been allowed to check a career of victory which opened
with such glorious promise!
Sir Arthur Wellesley had already returned to Britain, and many officers
of all ranks followed his example. The command of the army devolved on
Sir John Moore, a man most deservedly respected by the country, and
popular with his soldiers.
Meanwhile, the general indication of national resistance to French
oppression on the part of the Spaniards, encouraged hopes that if
assisted by Britain, the independence of the Peninsula might be
restored. This was a consideration worthy of a statesman’s serious
regard in both France and Britain--for the thraldom or independence
of Spain was an object of vital importance. As to what might be
expected from the Spaniards themselves in any attempt made for their
own liberation, their invaders and their allies seemed to have
formed an erroneous estimate--the British over-rating the importance
of their exertions in the field, as much as the French undervalued
that patriotic impulse, which had wakened up the slumbering spirit
of the people. The British cabinet, however, determined to foster
this national feeling, and by munificent supplies and the presence
of a British army, stimulate the Spanish people to assert their lost
liberty, and fling off a yoke no longer tolerable. For this purpose,
a force of twenty thousand men was directed to be assembled at
Valladolid, and a reinforcement of thirteen thousand, under Sir David
Baird, was despatched from Britain to join them; the whole were to be
placed under the orders of Sir John Moore.
Although Sir David’s corps was landed by the middle of October,
the army of Lisbon was not in a condition to move until the end of
the month; and then, under a false belief that the direct route to
Salamanca was impracticable for the passage of artillery, the batteries
and cavalry, with a protecting brigade of three thousand infantry, were
moved by Badajoz and the Escurial, entailing on them an additional
march of upwards of one hundred and fifty miles. Worse still, a delay
in commencing operations was unavoidable, and that was attended with
the worst results.
The whole of Sir John Hope’s corps having been at last collected, and
the cavalry assembled at Villa Vicosa, the order to move forward was
given.
On the 5th of November, Sir John Moore was at Atalia, on the 8th he
reached Almeida, and on the 11th his advanced guard crossed the rivulet
that divides Spain from Portugal, and entered Cuidad Rodrigo. At San
Martin he slept in the house of the curé, and occupied the same bed
that had the former year been assigned to Junot and Loison on their
respective marches, and on the 13th he entered Salamanca.
There, disastrous news awaited him--for one of his supporting armies
was already _hors de combat_. Count Belvidere, having made an absurd
movement on Burgos, was attacked by a superior force, and his raw
levies completely routed; while previously, Blake’s army had been
utterly dispersed, and the magazines at Reynosa taken. To add to this
mass of evil tidings, intelligence arrived that the fall of Madrid
might be confidently expected, while, instead of his advance into
Spain being covered with an army of seventy thousand men, Moore found
himself in an open town without a gun, without a Spanish picket, with
only three infantry brigades, and the French outposts but three marches
distant.
Madrid fell--the news could not be credited--and it was asserted
that, though the Retiro was taken, the town held obstinately out.
The inaction of the British was generally censured; the envoy had
remonstrated on the subject; and the army did not conceal their
impatience. Influenced by these considerations, Moore determined to
make a diversion on the capital, and attack Soult, who was at Saldanha,
on the Carion. A forward movement followed--Baird was directed to march
from Astorga, and Romana was informed of the intended operation, and
requested to assist.
The decision of attacking Soult was known to the army and gave general
satisfaction. On the 16th, headquarters were at Toro, and passing
Villapondo and Valderosa, on the 20th Sir John reached Majorga, and
was joined by Baird’s division, making an united force of twenty-three
thousand five hundred infantry, two thousand four hundred cavalry,
and, including a brigade of three-pounders--from its small calibre
perfectly useless--an artillery of nearly fifty guns. Soult’s corps
amounted to sixteen thousand infantry and twelve hundred dragoons. The
great portion of the former were at Saldanha, and Debelle’s cavalry at
Sahagun.
While thus advancing, the brilliant affair between Lord Paget and the
French cavalry shed a passing glory on a series of operations, whose
results were generally so calamitous. We shall give the affair in the
words of the noble colonel of the 10th Hussars, than whom, on that
occasion, no one “by daring deed” more effectually contributed to
victory.
The Monastero Melgar Abaxo is distant about three leagues from Sahagun,
in which place a corps of seven hundred French cavalry were reported
to be lodged. As they were at some distance from the main body of
the French army, it was deemed practicable to cut them off, and Lord
Paget determined, at all events, to make the attempt. He accordingly
put himself at the head of the 10th and 15th Hussars, and in the
middle of a cold wintry night, when the direct route to Salamanca was
impracticable, for the ground was covered with snow, set off for that
purpose.
When they had ridden about two-thirds of the way, Lord Paget divided
his force, and desiring General Slade, with the 10th, to pursue the
course of the Cea, and to enter the town by that side, he himself,
followed by the 15th, wheeled off to approach it by a different route.
It was not long before his lordship’s party fell in with a picket
of the enemy; and all, except one man, were either cut down or made
prisoners. But the escape of one was as injurious, under existing
circumstances, as the escape of the whole; for the alarm was given,
and before the 15th could reach the place the enemy were ready to
receive them. It was now broad daylight, and as our troops drew near,
the French were soon formed in what appeared to be an open plain, at
no great distance from the town. The 15th were wheeled into line in a
moment, and as there was no time to be lost, they followed their leader
at a brisk trot, with the intention of charging; but when they were yet
fifty yards from the enemy, they found that a wide ditch divided them,
and that the French had availed themselves of other inequalities in the
ground, of which, when some way off, they had not been aware.
A pause was now necessarily made, but one instant served to put the
whole again in motion. The regiment, wheeling to its left, soon found a
convenient place for crossing; and though the enemy manœuvred actively
to hinder the formation, they were again in line, and advancing to
the charge, within five minutes from the commencement of the check.
A few changes of ground now took place, as each corps strove to
gain the flank of the other, but they were only a few. The British
cavalry effected its object, and then coming down at full speed upon
their opponents, who stood to receive the shock, they overthrew them
in an instant. Many were killed upon the spot, many more unhorsed,
and one hundred and fifty-seven were made prisoners, including two
lieutenant-colonels. On this occasion the British cavalry amounted only
to four hundred men, whilst that of the French fell not short of seven
hundred.
The weather continued bad; the troops were a good deal knocked up by
forced marching, and Sir John halted on the 22nd and 23rd for supplies,
intending by a night march to reach the Carion, and attack Soult on the
morrow. Every account made the British numerically greater than the
enemy, and though the French had been reinforced, still Moore’s army
was stronger by fully five thousand men.
All dispositions were made for the intended attack. At eight at night,
the army were to move in two columns, and the right, which was to force
the bridge and penetrate to Saldanha, was actually getting under
arms, when couriers arrived “loaded with heavy tidings.” The French
were moving in all directions to cut the British off; the corps which
had been marching south, was suddenly halted at Talavera; two strong
divisions were moving from Placentia; the Badajoz army was in full
march on Salamanca--and Napoleon himself in the field, determined, as
it was reported, to “sweep the British before him to the ocean.”
This was, in truth, disastrous intelligence. The orders to advance
were countermanded instantly, the troops, who had already been
mustering, were retired to their quarters, and the object of the
expedition seemed virtually ended. The campaign was indeed a tissue of
mistakes--operating with feeble allies, acting on false information,
advancing to-day, retiring to-morrow, with everything to harass and
nothing to excite the soldier, until at last, the ill-fated and
ill-planned expedition terminated in a ruinous retreat.
In making preparations for a rapid march before an enemy, that from
report was overwhelming if not avoided, the 23rd of December was
consumed, and the general plan for regressive operations was arranged
by instantly retreating on Galicia.
All arrangements being completed, Moore commenced retreating on the
24th. Hope’s division fell back on Castro Gonzalo, and Baird’s on
Valencia; while cavalry patrols were pushed forward on the Carion,
with orders to retire at nightfall of the 25th, giving the reserve and
light infantry, which formed the rear-guard, a start of some three or
four hours in advance. All was admirably executed--and the columns,
unmolested, reached their respective destinations.
The retreat continued, marked by some occasional affairs between the
cavalry of the advanced and rear guard, which terminated invariably
in favour of the latter. The hussar regiments behaved most nobly, and
on every occasion, regardless of numbers, or the more discouraging
movements of a retreat, they sought the combat, and always came off the
conquerors.
The infantry already began to experience the annoyance of long marches,
severe weather, and a very indifferent commissariate. To march over
cut-up roads, and through an exhausted country, where no friendly
place of strength protects, no well-supplied magazine refreshes, soon
harasses the overloaded soldier. But that, when accomplished in the
dead of winter--in cold and darkness, sleet and rain--was enough to
have subdued the spirit of any army but a British one, retiring under
every privation, and with seventy thousand veteran troops marching on
their flanks and rear.
The army reached Benevente on the 27th--and the crossing of the Esla,
though exceedingly troublesome, was effected with inconsiderable
loss. The roads were wretched, the weather bad, and the French
pursuit marked by the fiery character of their emperor. He crossed the
Carpenteras, regardless of obstacles that would have discouraged the
boldest--and, in a hurricane of sleet and hail, passed his army over
the Guadarama, by a route declared impracticable even to a mountain
peasant.
This bold operation, worthy of the conqueror of Italy, was followed
up by an immediate advance. On the 26th the main body of the British
continued retreating on Astorga--the bridge across the Esla was
destroyed--and the night of the 27th passed over in tolerable quiet.
In the morning, however, the French were seen actively employed. Five
hundred cavalry of the guard tried for the ford above the ruined
bridge, found it, and passed over. The pickets forming the rear-guard
at once confronted them, and, led on by Colonel Otway, charged
repeatedly, and checked the leading squadron. General Stuart put
himself at the head of the pickets, while Lord Anglesea rode back to
bring up the 10th. Charges were made on both sides; the pickets gave
ground, the French advanced, but the 10th were speedily at hand, and
came forward. The pickets rallied, they cheered and cut boldly in at
speed, the French were overthrown and driven across the river, with the
loss of their Colonel (Le Fevre), and seventy officers and men.
This brilliant encounter had the results that boldness wins. The French
kept a respectful distance, and thus, the column was enabled to gain
Astorga without further molestation.
But the danger was momentarily increasing. From prisoners taken in the
cavalry affair on the Esla, it was ascertained that, on the preceding
evening, the headquarters of Napoleon’s own corps were but sixteen
miles from the bivouacs of the British, and to reach Villa Franca
before the French was imperatively necessary. On that event how much
depended--for on the possession of that road, in a great degree, would
rest the safety or destruction of the British, as it opens through
a defile into a country that for miles renders cavalry movements
impracticable, and entirely protects the flanks of a retiring army.
It is astonishing how quickly a retreat in bad weather destroys the
_morale_ of the best army. The British divisions had marched from
Sabugal on the 24th in the highest order; on the 30th, on reaching
Astorga, their disorganisation had commenced; they seemed a mob
flying from a victorious enemy, and General Moore himself exhibited a
despondency that was apparent to all around him.
That he was an officer of great distinction everyone acknowledged
during his life, and posterity will never deny it; but it was too
manifest that a fear of responsibility, a dread of doing that which
was wrong, of running himself and his troops into difficulties from
which they might not be able to extricate themselves, were a great
deal too active to permit either his talents or his judgment properly
to exert their influence. Sir John Moore had earned the highest
reputation as a general of division; he was aware of this, and perhaps
felt no inclination to risk it; at all events he was clearly incapable
of despising partial obstacles in the pursuit of some great ultimate
advantage; in one word, he was not a Wellington. Of this no more
convincing proof need be given than the fact that, even at the moment
when the preparations for the brief advance were going on, his whole
heart and soul seemed turned towards the Portuguese frontier.
Romana had unfortunately given up the Leon route, and marching on
Astorga, encumbering the roads with the ruins of his baggage, and worse
still, filling the villages he passed through with crowds of ragged
followers unable to get on--some from absolute decrepitude and want,
and more from being attacked by fever of the worst type.
The retreat was renewed next morning, and the marching continued with
such constancy that, by abandoning the sick and wounded, wasting the
ammunition, and destroying the stores, the British outstripped pursuit,
and on the 3rd of January found themselves in comparative safety. The
cavalry, as usual, distinguished themselves; and at Cacabelos, where
the rear-guard was overtaken, behaving with their customary _esprit_,
they repelled the advance of the French hussars, and prevented the
light troops from being surrounded and cut off. Indeed the escape of
the rifles was wonderful. They were retreating through the town, and
part of the rear-guard had already crossed the bridge, when the French
cavalry came suddenly on in overwhelming force, and galloping into the
rear companies of the 95th, succeeded in making some prisoners.
The rifles instantly broke into skirmishing order, and commenced
retiring up the hill, when a body of voltigeurs rushed to the support
of the cavalry, and the affair became serious. The 95th, however, had
now thrown themselves into the vineyards behind the town, and kept up
a rapid and well-directed fire. The French attempted to get in their
rear, and charged boldly up the road, led on by General Colbert. But
the fusilade from the vineyard was maintained with such precision that
the French were driven back, leaving a number of dead on the field,
among whom their brave and daring leader was included.
Sir John was also threatened with attack at Villa Franca. A strong
column of infantry appeared on the heights, in full march on that
division which was in position on the opposite hill. The artillery
opened, and an engagement appeared inevitable. But checked by the
cannonade, the forward movement of the French was arrested; and Sir
John, anxious to reach the better position of Lugo, continued his
retreat, and prudently avoided coming to a general action, where the
ground had no military advantage to induce him to risk a combat. The
main body marched to Herrieras, the reserve to Villa Franca, and the
rear-guard moved at ten o’clock, and reached its bivouac at midnight.
The cavalry, no longer serviceable in a country rough, hilly, and
wooded, with numerous enclosures around vineyards and plantations
of mulberry trees, were sent on to Lugo; the infantry and artillery
marching for the same place. During the whole day and night that
distressing movement was executed, and forty miles were passed over
roads on every side broken up, and in places, knee-deep. The men
dropped down by whole sections on the wayside and died--some with
curses, some with the voice of prayer in their mouths--while women and
children, of whom an immense number had injudiciously been allowed to
accompany the army, shared a similar fate.
Horrible scenes momentarily occurred--children frozen in their mothers’
arms, women taken in labour, and, of course, perishing with their
ill-fated progeny. Some were trying by the madness of intoxication to
stimulate their worn-out frames to fresh exertion--or, when totally
exhausted, to stupefy the agonies of the slow but certain death that
cold and hunger must inevitably produce before another sun dawned.
It was awful to observe the different modes, when abandoned to die,
in which the miserable wretches met their fate. Some lay down in
sullen composure--others vented their despair in oaths, and groans,
and curses--and not a few in heart-rending prayers to heaven that the
duration of their sufferings might be abridged.
From an early period of the retreat, the discipline of the troops
was shaken by rapid movements and an absence of regular supplies.
Hence, the men were obliged to shift as they best could, and this
laxity in discipline gradually increasing, ended in frequent scenes of
drunkenness, rioting, and robbery. Every town and village was sacked
in search of food, the wine stores plundered, and the casks, in mere
wantonness, broken and spilled. Nothing could check the licentious
spirit of the troops; and when a man was hanged at Benivedre, even that
sad example had not the least effect, for many of the marauders were
detected in the act of plundering within sight of the fatal tree.
During this distressing movement, the French had pressed the British
rear-guard closely, and a constant scene of skirmishing ensued. Though
invariably checked by the light troops, still the army was hourly
becoming less effective, every league reducing it both in numbers
and resources. Quantities of arms and necessaries were abandoned or
destroyed, and two bullock carts loaded with dollars were thrown over
a precipice into the bed of a mountain torrent. All these things
proved how desperately reduced that once fine and well-appointed army
had become. Indeed its appearance was rather that of a procession of
maimed invalids with a caravan of sick soldiers, than an army operating
in front of a determined enemy, and expecting momentarily to come to
action.
It was a matter of surprise to all, that the French leader did not
force on an engagement; but, on the contrary, Soult followed this
half-ruined army with a caution that appeared unaccountable and
unnecessary. Still the moment of attack could not be distant; and it
was certain that the Marshal only waited for some embarrassment in the
march, to throw his leading divisions on the retreating brigades of
Britain, and force on a decisive battle.
This event was particularly to be dreaded while passing the bridge and
village of Constantino. A long and difficult mountain road leads to the
summit of a bold height, down which it winds again by a gradual descent
till it meets the bridge. The occupation of this height, before the
columns had passed the river, would expose them to a heavy fire. Sir
John Moore determined to check the French pursuit, and hold the hill,
until the rear of the main division had cleared the bridge and village.
His dispositions were quickly made; the 28th regiment with the rifle
corps were drawn up beside the river, and the 20th, 52nd, and 91st on a
hill immediately in their rear, flanked by the horse artillery.
The French attacked with their usual spirit. The cavalry and
tirailleurs advanced against the bridge; but the fire from the British
riflemen, assisted by the guns on the height, drove them back with
loss. A second and a third attack, made with equal boldness, ended in
a similar result, and darkness put a stop to the fighting. The French
withdrew their light troops, the British continued their retreat, and
before morning broke the rear-guard joined the army, now bivouacked in
position, or cantoned in and around the town of Lugo.
The concentration of so many troops at this wretched place produced a
scene of hurry and confusion with which the distant cannonade at the
bridge of Constantino seemed in perfect keeping.
On one side was to be seen the soldier of every rank who had secured a
habitation to shelter him, but whom duty or inclination occasioned to
wander through the crowds of people, and deeply mudded streets of the
town; on the other, the disconsolate person that made his appearance
after the Alcalde’s ingenuity had been stretched to the uttermost in
procuring quarters for the troops already arrived, and whose _personal
friends_ had been subjected to the unusual order for admitting
strangers. The pitiableness of his case was either to be discovered
by a resigned and woeful visage, or by certain ebullitions of temper,
destined to waste themselves in the desert air. Next were to be seen
the conductors of baggage, toiling through the streets, their laden
mules almost sinking under the weight of ill-arranged burdens swinging
from side to side, while the persons in whose charge they had followed
the divisions appeared undecided which to execrate most, the roads, the
mules, the Spaniards, or the weather. These were succeeded by the dull,
heavy sound of the passing artillery; then came the Spanish fugitives
from the desolating line of the armies. Detachments with sick or lamed
horses scrambled through the mud, while, at intervals, the report of
a horse-pistol knelled the termination to the sufferings of an animal
that a few days previously, full of life and high in blood, had borne
its rider not against, but over, the ranks of Gallic chivalry. The
effect of this scene was rendered more striking by the distant report
of cannon and musketry, and more gloomy by torrents of rain, and a
degree of cold worthy of a Polish winter.
Preparations were made for a battle, and Sir John Moore seemed
determined to retreat no further. Notwithstanding the British were
suffering from cold, and wet, and hunger, they fell into their position
with alacrity. The Minho protected their right, and a ravine separated
them from the French, who, already in force, occupied the heights, and
were evidently preparing for an immediate effort.
On the 6th January the French deployed upon the heights, and the
British stood to their arms. Some hours passed; each line looked at
the other, as if waiting for its opening movement. The day passed, and
at night the hostile armies occupied the same bivouacs on which their
brigades had rested the preceding evening.
The 7th came; with the first dawn, as if to make up for its previous
inactivity, the French guns opened. Their battery was but weak, and the
fire of the British artillery silenced it. A pause ensued, the day wore
on, the evening was closing, when a column of considerable strength,
covered by a cloud of tirailleurs, steadily mounted the hill, driving
in the pickets and a wing of the 76th. The 51st was instantly moved to
its assistance, musketry was interchanged, a bayonet rush succeeded,
the French were driven down the hill, and operations terminated.
Darkness came on, a wild and stormy night, a lonely hill, no fire, no
food--such was the bivouac of Lugo; such the wretched and cheerless
situation of the harassed but unconquerable islanders.
As the morning of the 8th dawned, the British formed line, and prepared
coolly for the expected encounter; but it passed over, and the enemy
made no hostile movement. The troops had been ordered to bivouac as
they best could, and in a short time a number of rude huts were erected
to defend them from the inclemency of the coming night. But it was not
intended to remain longer before Lugo. When darkness hid their retreat,
the British filed off silently by the rear. Through a frightful storm
of hail and wind, their march was bravely executed; and leaving Lugo
and Valmela behind them, they halted at Betanzos on the 10th.
Here the exhausted soldiery were halted from sheer necessity. They were
literally marched to a stand still, and, although the rain fell in
torrents, they lay down upon the soaked earth, and in that comfortless
situation remained until at evening the ranks were again formed, and
the retreat continued on Corunna, where Sir John had now decided on
embarking the ruins of his army.
Fortunately for the wearied troops, the French, deceived by the fires
left burning when the British commenced their night march from Lugo,
did not discover the movement until daylight, and thus twelve hours
were gained on the pursuers. This lost time could not be recovered; and
although the whole of the 10th January was passed in Betanzos, to allow
stragglers to rejoin their regiments, no serious attempt was made to
embarrass the remainder of the march, and the leading division reached
Corunna at noon of the 11th, while the reserve occupied the adjoining
villages, and the remaining brigades took up their quarters in the
suburbs.
Corunna afforded a very indifferent position to offer battle on. There
was one, but its extent made it untenable by an army so weak in number
as the British. After a close examination, the rising ground above the
village of Elvina, a mile in front of the town, was the place selected
by the general; the position was accordingly marked out, and the
brigades moved to their allotted posts.
A ridge commanded the Betanzos road and formed the left of the line,
and on this General Hope’s division was placed. Sir David Baird’s
was next in station, and occupied a succession of knolls that swept
inwards, and inclined to a valley beyond the Vigo road. Over the low
grounds the rifle corps were extended, appuied upon Frazer’s division,
which, placed in echelon, covered the principal approach to Corunna.
Paget’s division was in reserve behind Hope’s, and occupied a village
half a mile in the rear.
The enemy appeared beyond the Mero while these dispositions were being
made; but, with the exception of a partial cannonade, no hostile
demonstration occurred. On the 14th, the artillery had ceased on both
sides, an unusual quiet ensued, and nothing seemed likely to produce
any immediate excitement, when the explosion of four thousand barrels
of gunpowder burst upon the astonished ear. It is impossible to
describe the effect. The unexpected and tremendous crash seemed for
the moment to have deprived every person of reason and recollection;
“the soldiers flew to their arms, nor was it until a tremendous column
of smoke, ascending from the heights in front, marked from whence
the astounding shock proceeded, that reason resumed its sway. It is
impossible ever to forget the sublime appearance of the dark dense
cloud of smoke that ascended, shooting up gradually like a gigantic
tower into the clear blue sky. It appeared fettered in one enormous
mass; nor did a particle of dust or vapour, obscuring its form, seem to
escape as it rolled upwards in majestic circles.”
On the 15th the fleet hove in sight, and immediate preparations were
made to effect an embarkation of the army. The women and children, with
the sick and wounded, were directly carried on board; a large portion
of the artillery and stores was sent afterwards; and the cavalry, after
destroying the few horses that still remained, were embarked. None but
the infantry, and of these such only as were effective, were now left;
and the belief was general, that they too, would be permitted to retire
from their position unmolested.
Everything on the 16th continued quiet. The boats pulled from the
shipping to the beach, and orders were issued for the divisions to move
down, and prepare for immediate embarkation; Sir John Moore was on
horseback to visit the outposts, for the last time, before they should
be withdrawn, when an officer came up hastily, and announced that the
French were under arms. The intelligence was correct; for an instant
fusilade commenced between their tirailleurs and the British pickets,
as their light troops pushed forward, covering the advance of four
compact columns. Two directed their march upon the right, one moved
upon the centre, while the fourth threatened the left of the British
line.
The right, consisting of the 4th, 42nd, and 50th, supported by the
guards, were fiercely attacked, and the reserve ordered to sustain
it. The French threw out a cloud of skirmishers, supported by the
fire of eleven pieces of artillery, and, driving the advanced posts
before them, came forward with their customary boldness. On deploying
partially, their line extended considerably beyond the extreme right
of the British, but this was disregarded, and instead of waiting the
attack, the regiments gallantly advanced to meet it. The 4th suddenly
refusing its right wing, showed a double front, and unawed by a
superior enemy, undaunted by a heavy and well-directed cannonade, the
manœuvre of this splendid regiment was executed with all the coolness
and precision of a parade.
For a time the irregularity of ground intersected by numerous
enclosures, kept the combatants apart; but these were speedily
surmounted, and the French assault was made and repelled, and the
village of Elvina, which had for a few minutes been in possession of
the enemy, was recovered by the 50th with the bayonet.
The action was now general along the line. The 42nd, and a battalion of
the Guards, by a brilliant charge, drove back the French; and, failing
to force, Soult endeavoured to turn the British right, and accordingly
marched a column in its rear. That the reserve attacked, and repulsed
it with heavy loss. In every point Soult’s attacks failed--and,
altering his dispositions, he took ground considerably to the right.
While the 42nd were lowering their bayonets, and Sir John Moore was
encouraging the charge, a round shot knocked him from his horse,
shattering his left arm at the shoulder--while immediately before,
Sir David Baird had been wounded and removed. But the fall of their
generals produced no serious results. Corunna was not a battle
of manœuvre, but a field of determined resistance. The officers
commanding the different battalions fought their regiments gallantly;
the dispositions for the engagement were simple and understood; the
attempts upon the left and centre were repulsed; and the French, beaten
on every point, fell back as night came on.
Thus ended the conflict of Corunna; and when every disadvantage is
taken into consideration under which the British fought, its results
were glorious, and the courage and coolness displayed throughout most
honourable to the troops employed. The numbers engaged were certainly
in favour of the French. Without its light brigade, which had retreated
and embarked at Vigo, the British divisions scarcely reached to fifteen
thousand; while Soult was reinforced in the morning, and mustered from
eighteen to twenty thousand men. The loss on both sides was severe;
that of the British amounting to eight hundred killed and wounded,
while the French admitted theirs to be at least double that number.
Yet it was but a melancholy triumph. The sad reverses of the retreat,
the abandonment of the country, and the death of a brave and beloved
commander, clouded the hour of conquest, and threw a depressing gloom
around, that seemed fitter to mark a defeat than attend a well-won
victory. No further attempt was made by the enemy; the brigades were
removed after dark, the embarkation continued, and on the afternoon of
the 17th, the whole fleet was under weigh, steering for Britain with a
leading wind.
The severity of a wound like Sir John Moore’s precluded, from the first
moment it was received, all hope of his surviving beyond an hour or
two. The arm was torn nearly from the shoulder, and the collar-bone
partially carried away; but notwithstanding the desperate hemorrhage
that ensued, the sufferer preserved his recollection, and remained in
mental possession to the last.
He was carried from the field in a blanket by six soldiers, who evinced
their sympathy by tears; and when a spring waggon came up, and it was
proposed that Sir John should be transferred to it, the poor fellows
respectfully objected, “as they would keep step, and carry him more
easily.” Their wishes were attended to, and the dying general was
conveyed slowly to his quarters in the town, occasionally stopping
the bearers to look back upon the field, whenever an increasing fire
arrested his attention. All hope was over; he lingered for a little,
talking feebly, but collectedly, to those around, and dividing his
last thoughts apparently, between his country and his kindred. The
kindliness of his disposition was in death remarkable. Turning to an
aide-de-camp, he desired to be remembered to his sister, and, feebly
pressing Colonel Anderson’s hand, his head dropped back, and he died
without a struggle.
As a wish had been expressed by the departed, that he should be laid
in the field on which he fell, the rampart of the citadel was happily
chosen for his “resting place.” A working party of the 9th turned
up the earth--and at midnight, wrapped in a cloak and blanket, his
uncoffined remains were interred by the officers of his staff; the
burial-service was read by torch-light, earth fell on kindred clay, the
grave was filled, and, in the poet’s words, “They left him alone with
his glory.”
In every private relation, Sir John Moore’s character was perfect, and
his professional career had always been distinguished. Of no man had
higher hopes been formed, and hence, probably, more was expected by
his country than either his means or his talents could effect. By one
party he was unjustly censured, by another injudiciously praised; and
in this ferment of opinion it is difficult to say whether his military
reputation was most endangered by the obloquy of his enemies or the
over-praise of his friends.