Chapter X: Salamanca and Madrid

In June 1812 Wellington was ready to attack Marmont, whose army he had now succeeded in isolating. By destroying the bridge at Almaraz the commander-in-chief had made it practically impossible for Drouet and Soult to reinforce Marmont; King Joseph's army was out of hand, and not likely to take the field; and the only other French army of any importance was kept busy in the neighbourhood of Corunna, where small bodies of British troops were landed from time to time to harass the Frenchmen. Marmont was at this time near Salamanca, where he had strong fortifications, and it was known that he intended to hold first the line of the Tormes river, and then, if forced to retire, the line of the Douro.

On the 13th June, Wellington's army, consisting of nearly forty thousand British and Portuguese troops, advanced to the Tormes, and on the 17th was in front of Salamanca, from which the French withdrew without offering battle, though they left some eight hundred men in occupation of the forts. Major Rice wrote, on the 18th June, from _Camp, left bank of the Tormes, half a mile from Salamanca--_

"My latest from the Azava will have told you of our forward
movement. We arrived before Salamanca on the 16th with little
opposition; skirmishing, principally with cavalry; their advance
posts all driven in. The military _coup d'œil_ was fine, as the
whole operations and effect could at once be seen. Marmont made
some show of defence in the evening, but thought it prudent in the
night to retire with his principal force. He has, however, left
two works in the town garrisoned, which defend the passage of the
bridge, and which cause, therefore, a temporary inconvenience, as
all supplies for the army have to be carried round by the ford.
One division of the army is in the town, and notwithstanding all
the firing that is going on, the shops are open, and every one
walking about as in times of the most profound tranquillity. The
apathy of these people is beyond description; death or danger
seems not to cause a sensation. What is extraordinary enough is
that to-night there is to be a ball given by General Graham. They
will dance to the sound of the cannon. We are now constructing
batteries; by to-morrow morning we hope they will be pounded out of
their dens. Salamanca has been a fine town, the public buildings
beautiful in the extreme, but most miserably dilapidated by the
soft and gentle hand of war. I am just going to take a review of
the ladies; yesterday they did not show. The cannon is roaring
most tremendously. Our labours and fatigues have been very great;
march always at one o'clock; now are continually on the alert, men
remaining accoutred day and night. The enemy have fallen back upon
Toro; whether we follow, or they retrograde, at present _je n'en
sais rien_.

"You talk of Philippon and his defence. The fellow showed genius
in his mode of defence; but I cannot say much for his defenders;
nothing that skill could devise was left untried; the place[71] was
taken at last at the strongest point--so much for what I have said.
We have been enjoying the 'canopy' since quitting our cantonments;
the weather is scorching by day, and cold by night--pleasing
variations. I still hold out. The Tormes is in winter a river of
military importance, being extremely rapid. It has apparently a
magnificent bridge of thirty arches. I am just going reconnoitring,
but it will be a reconnaissance confined solely to the sweet
signoras."

But the Frenchmen were not "pounded out of their dens" as quickly as the Major had hoped, for the forts held out for another week or more, during which time Marmont made every endeavour to drive the British away and relieve the garrisons. The 51st were engaged almost daily in assisting to frustrate Marmont's designs, though they came in for no serious fighting until the 22nd. On that morning the regiment came off twenty-four hours' outpost duty, but no sooner was the brigade bivouac reached than an order was received to advance. Moving forward for about a mile, the brigade deployed into line, and then continued the advance up the slope of a hill, beyond the crest of which nothing could be seen. That the enemy was at hand, however, was soon made evident, as musket shots were heard, and a few stray bullets passed over the men's heads. Presently balls came over the hill in showers, and some, grazing the hill slope, began to make havoc in the ranks. But the 51st and 68th, now aware that the enemy was within measurable distance, moved steadily forward, unable to fire since no mark was visible, and intent only on closing with the foe. At length the hill was surmounted, when, not ten yards away, the assailants saw the line of Frenchmen, and, with a wild cheer, dashed in. Yet they were too late; the enemy's advanced post had played its part, and, breaking, the men who composed it fled to the village, about one hundred yards away, where a large force, lying concealed, immediately opened fire and checked the British advance. The gallant brigade had carried out its orders and cleared the hill, so falling back a few yards it sheltered itself behind the crest, until the enemy's fire slackened and then ceased. It had been a brisk skirmish, and the 51st had suffered a good deal as they advanced up the hill, Captain Smellie and some twenty men having been wounded, and two or three men killed. A week afterwards, Major Rice, in a short note, dated _Between Toro and Salamanca, 30th June 1812_, described the affair--

"The gallant 7th Division forced a post, left of the enemy.
Wellington, our lord, was pleased to say that we run into
them handsomely. The burst was sharp--the hottest I have ever
experienced; we lost two or three and twenty. I escaped with only
the loss of my favourite horse, which was shot under me. Marmont
is expected to defend the passage of the Douro. We are dreadfully
harassed; have not been under cover for a month. Much haste."

John Green,[72] who, as a private of the 68th, was present on this occasion, refers to the fight in the following words: "The 51st Regiment suffered considerably, having several killed and wounded. Major Rice's horse was shot from under him. Some men belonging to the Chasseurs Britanniques skinned the horse, and sold the flesh to their own men and to the Portuguese at three _vints_, or four-pence halfpenny per lb."

Major Rice had been unfortunate in his horses. One, it will be remembered, broke away and deserted to the enemy at Badajoz. The second was fated to be eaten by the allied troops. Probably the owner considered the end of his second horse no more dreadful than that of the first; and it is to be hoped that Government compensated him for the loss of his two chargers, though it is not probable that any such generosity was shown to the British officer, who, at that time, was even required to provide at his own expense beasts of burden to carry his baggage in the field.

Five days after these events the Salamanca forts fell, and Marmont beat a retreat towards Valladolid. Wellington followed leisurely, keeping touch with the enemy's rearguard, and engaging it slightly at the bridge of Tordesillas on the 2nd July. But neither side yet felt inclined to give battle; and the British were by no means hopeful that their labours were going to be rewarded with a fight. Major Rice certainly took a gloomy view of the future when he wrote, on the 6th July, from _Camp near Medina del Campo_--

"Our lord, I am just told, is making up his dispatches, and
we scrubs are graciously permitted to avail ourselves of the
opportunity. Since I last communicated, nothing of importance has
transpired. The army appears to have come to a _check_--rather,
I think, than a _fault_. Marmont has earthed himself safe on
the left bank of the Douro, and secured the bridge in front of
Tordesillas. The fords are not good and are always precarious, but
about these I know nothing, so I ought not to presume to give an
opinion as to what is intended, or what can be done with safety
to the army. His lordship only can know, as he must necessarily
possess the best information as to the strength and resources
of the enemy. For my part, I am not a bit more sanguine in this
glorious cause than ever, and though we have dashed a few leagues
in this patriotic ground among the _vivas_ of the mob, manœuvring
seems to be the game that both parties are inclined to, and, if I
may judge, both are equally shy as to general action. We have been
wretchedly off for this some time; scanty fare, bad biscuit, &c.
The weather dreadfully hot by day and cold by night--beyond what I
ever experienced. We are lying in cornfields without the smallest
covering. How the men stand this severe work is to me astonishing.
A few days must soon bring to light our lord's gigantic plan for
annihilating the foe. If we take water or form bridge, it will be a
second Lodi. My brains are baking into a paste. It is just rumoured
that the brutes won't fight; if so, the game must be up in this
favourite peninsula."

Marmont was now reinforced by Bonet's division, and, with this addition to his strength, the French general was able to turn on Wellington and force him to retire. Though at times Marmont pressed his adversary hard, day succeeded day without any decided advantage being gained by either side. Throughout the 19th, 20th, and 21st July, the hostile armies manœuvred in presence of each other, at the end of which time both armies had passed to the left bank of the Tormes river. On the 22nd, Marmont, by rapidly extending his left, attempted to cut Wellington's communications with Portugal, but the wide extension proved his ruin, for the British commander saw the opportunity for which he had been waiting so long, and immediately seized it. He hurled one division against the French left with such vigour as to roll it back in complete disorder, and, simultaneously, with two other divisions he assailed the centre with like results. Then bethinking himself of making victory doubly sure, he despatched the Light Division post-haste to the Huerta ford, in the hope of barring the passage of the Tormes to the disorganised masses of the enemy. This movement, however, failed, as the French crossed higher up stream, and made good their escape towards the Douro.

Such, briefly, was the battle of Salamanca, in which Marmont was severely wounded and twelve thousand Frenchmen placed _hors de combat_, while the Allies suffered a lost of six thousand.

The pursuit was taken up at once, and Clausel, who had succeeded Marmont in command of the French army, collected his forces and withdrew rapidly to Valladolid, which place, however, he was obliged to evacuate on Wellington's arrival near the town on the 30th July. Deciding to profit to the full by his almost unexpected success, the latter then turned south and marched straight for the Spanish capital. King Joseph fled, and on the 12th August the victorious Allies entered Madrid amidst the acclamations of the populace.

Major Rice found no time to write of these events, but one of the subalterns of the 51st thus describes the entry into Madrid: "The next day, the 12th August, the anniversary of the Prince Regent's birthday, we entered the capital of Spain, and never in my life did I witness such a scene. No quiet John Bull can conceive the enthusiasm the people of Madrid displayed on that day. If we had been angels instead of men, we could not have been better received. Our division was the first British one that entered, and our regiment, being the head of the column, had the good fortune to lead. The crowds gathered round us so quickly that we could scarce move on; they seemed frantic with joy; every balcony, every window was filled with beautiful women, who showered down flowers upon our heads as we passed, and the air was rent with acclamations of 'Long live the brave scarlet fellows (colorados), our deliverers!' 'George for ever!' 'Wellington, the brave Wellington, for ever!' But when Wellington himself came, no language can describe their feelings or enthusiasm. They fell on their knees to kiss the ground his horse's hoofs had pressed, and they deemed themselves fortunate if they could only touch his clothes. Never shall I forget our entrance."

The French still held the Retiro, a fortified post in the centre of the city, and on the following evening, while the officers of the 51st were preparing to go to a ball given by the citizens to Wellington and his officers, orders were received for the regiment and the 68th to invest the place forthwith. Some few shots were exchanged with the French sentries that night, but a cordon was drawn rapidly round the Retiro, and next morning, when the fort was on the point of being stormed, the garrison surrendered--amongst the captures on this occasion being, strange to relate, the eagle of the 51st French Regiment, which, with others, was sent to England and eventually deposited in Chelsea Hospital. And there were some of the British 51st who regarded this eagle in the light of a phœnix rising from the ashes of the colours burned on the eve of the battle of Fuentes d'Onor.

Madrid now gave itself up to gaiety--balls, bull-fights, illuminations, and fêtes of every description, and a week later the 51st marched to the Escorial, where it was quartered until the 1st September. On that day Wellington, leaving two divisions under General Hill at Madrid, took the remainder of his army with him and marched north, for the purpose of driving back the enemy from the Douro to Burgos. "Our march," says Ensign Mainwaring of the 51st, "though rapid, was by no means disagreeable; for traversing a rich wine-country, our route lay through vast plains covered with vineyards, and at this season, autumn, just before the vintage, the vines were laden with clusters of ripe grapes, tempting to the appetite and beautiful to the eye. In this manner we travelled on, without anything occurring worthy of note till we came within sight of the castle of Burgos, and we began to anticipate, not with much pleasure, all the inglorious toils and arduous and fatiguing business of a siege--the most disagreeable military duty a soldier has on service, digging and delving in dust and dirt like ploughmen, to shelter ourselves, ere morning's dawn, from shot and shell whizzing about our ears at each moment, killing or mutilating our next neighbour. No excitement, as in a general action, by the immediate prospect of getting at the foe, your only hope that you may get through your twenty-four hours in the trenches unscathed, back to your bivouac, to eat, drink, and sleep till your turn in the batteries comes round again, varied by the storm of an outwork or a sortie of the enemy, to either of which occurrences the soldier looks forward as something to enliven and break in upon the routine of his daily labours."

Clausel had withdrawn slowly from the Douro as Wellington advanced, and on the 18th September passed through Burgos, leaving a garrison of eighteen hundred men in the castle. To invest and reduce this Wellington set to work immediately, twelve thousand men being detailed for the siege and twenty thousand for the covering force. So strong, however, was the castle, and so determined the garrison, that after an investment of thirty-three days, during which time five separate assaults were delivered and repulsed, and several desperate sallies of the garrison were met and beaten back, Wellington was obliged to abandon the enterprise and raise the siege, when he learned, in the middle of October, that Clausel, having received a reinforcement of twelve thousand fresh troops from France, was marching down upon him with some forty-four thousand men. During these operations the 51st, with the remainder of the 7th Division, formed part of the covering army, watching the country between Burgos and Vittoria, and spending some days near the village of Monasterio, but never called upon to do more than check reconnaissances pushed out by the enemy.

On the 21st October began the memorable retreat from Burgos--a retreat which proved almost as arduous as that to Corunna, nearly four years before. The weather was generally severe, and the enemy pressed the pursuit vigorously, ever engaging the cavalry of the rearguard and sometimes making captures. The rivers were in flood and seldom passable save at the bridges, facts which gave the advantage to Wellington, whose engineers, now adept at mines and explosions, blew up each bridge as it was crossed, and thus from time to time checked the French onslaught. In this way, by the 26th October, Wellington was behind the Pisuerga river, with the mined bridge at Cabezon between him and the enemy, and thence he despatched parties to secure the bridges in his rear--viz., at Tudela and Tordesillas on the Douro, and at Valladolid and Simancas on the Pisuerga. The 7th Division was employed in holding the three last-named bridges, the 51st being responsible for that at Valladolid. The French came on swiftly, and leaving a division in front of Wellington's main body, threw out their right and swept down on the post held by the 51st. Opening from the high ground on the opposite bank with cannon and musketry, the enemy soon rendered the bridge untenable; but the company of the 51st defending it, even after the lieutenant in command had been borne to the rear with his right arm shattered, gallantly held on until the mine was ready. Then, having lost three men killed and fourteen wounded, the company withdrew rapidly as the bridge was blown up. The bridge at Simancas, being similarly menaced, was also destroyed, as was that at Tordesillas, on the 28th, by a party of the Brunswick Oels Corps detached for the purpose. But the destruction of the latter bridge was of little avail, for it was followed by an act of daring gallantry on the part of the French, perhaps without parallel in the history of war. Riding up to the broken bridge, the Frenchmen, annoyed at finding it impassable, hesitated for a moment, but then, dismounting, they set to work to form a small raft, upon which they placed their arms and clothes. Napier tells the story of what followed, and it is worth repeating. "Sixty officers and non-commissioned officers," he says, "then plunged into the water with their swords between their teeth, swimming, and pushing the raft before them. Under the protection of a cannonade they thus crossed this great river, though it was in full and strong water and the weather very cold, and having reached the other side, naked as they were, stormed the tower, whereupon the Brunswickers, amazed at the action, abandoned their ground, leaving the gallant Frenchmen masters of the passage."

The French restored the bridge as quickly as possible, but in the meanwhile Wellington had withdrawn to the left bank of the Douro by the Tudela bridge and by the Puente de Douro, and on the 30th October he marched towards Tordesillas in such strength as to prevent the enemy making use of the bridge which they had so nobly won. On this very spot Major Rice wrote his last letter of the year:--

"CAMP BEFORE THE BRIDGE OF TORDESILLAS,
LEFT BANK OF THE DOURO,
_5th November 1812_.

"You will not fail to perceive, as per date, that our movements
of late have been retrograde--I won't call it in this place
_retreating_, because it is possibly only a little run on the part
of our Most Noble and Gallant Marquis, whose judgment and military
abilities are inferior _nulli_--not even Bony the Great. You will,
however, see all in public print, and then you may call it what
you like, and I think we shall be perfectly _d'accord_. My last
short and hasty, though brilliant, display of matter was from
Monasterio. The following day we were pushed in very gallantly (by
_superior force_ understood); our loss not great, and we committed
some havoc among the legions--hats and wigs cheap enough. The great
superiority of the enemy in all the arms of war, I suppose, upon
reconnaissance, decided his lordship on raising the siege of Burgos
and falling back. The fact of the matter is, we were doing too
much for our means, and, _entre nous_, are lucky in getting clear
off. Our movements have been rapid, and not a little pressed; fine
destruction of bridges, &c.; in fact, all the agreeables attending
retrograde movements, or, as Soult calls them, _to the flank_.

"Our division defended the front of Valladolid, to retard the
enemy. Our regiment lost a few men; a poor woman, singularly
enough, was killed by the first cannon ball fired, and an officer
minus an arm. Two officers of ours have also died this week. Our
sufferings have not been a little; the weather horridly cold and
wet; not once under cover for these last two months. The poor
soldiers dreadfully off; but I must not depict all the miseries;
the truth must not be told at all times. And why tell you, or
talk on subjects which you cannot understand? I often think how
ridiculous one of my compositions would appear in print, under the
head of 'Intercepted Correspondence from Spain!'

"The whole army is now encamped in an immense vineyard--as far
as the eye can reach, and the river between us and Mr Frenchman.
Our people chat across, while going for water or washing. War is
a strange business, and I am most heartily tired of the novelty.
Hill's army has quitted the Tagus, and is moving upon us. The game,
I think, is pretty well up. It is labour in vain, while poor John
Bull only suffers and bleeds, as you will see by those who caught
the bubble against the walls of Burgos. How lucky we are to get
out of the digging business! So excellent a corps must always be
in front, for the general safety of the whole. The unfortunate
country people are being driven to desperation; what between friend
and foe, their situation is deplorable; everything is taken from
them, either by force or on requisition. The scenes of warfare
are too shocking to witness. Sick and wounded men, in want of
every comfort, add to the horrors which words cannot describe. But
one must not reflect. Some French wag wrote up upon a wall: _un
bon soldat faut avoir la force d'un cheval, le cœur d'un lion,
l'appétit d'un souris, l'humanité d'un bête_--a true bill enough,
and expressive of the Peninsular and Favourite War. The army must
have repose; it is naked, jaded, and done up. If the lord gets
hold of this, I shall certainly be hanged. You shall hear soon of
further operations and all agreeables."

Officers writing from the seat of war seldom told the whole bare tale; possibly they had the feeling that their letters were overhauled in transit, or they may have been disinclined to mention incidents which their friends at home, knowing nothing of war or of human weakness under trying circumstances, would regard as outrages. But these things left unsaid came out afterwards, and what Major Rice thought that his brother (to whom the above letter was written) would not understand was the extraordinary incident which took place at the very commencement of the retreat from Burgos. Arriving late in camp, after a heavy day of marching, near the town of Duenas, between Burgos and Valladolid, the men heard that the wine-vaults were full of the recent vintage, and with one accord they broke loose and sacked the vaults. "Some of them were found dead, literally drowned in wine, it having overflowed in the cellars and suffocated the poor wretches who were too drunk to escape. Next morning, at daybreak, when we stood to our arms to recommence the march, the scene was one, perhaps, without parallel in the annals of military history; for I scarcely exaggerate when I say that, with the exception of the officers, the whole army was drunk." Thus wrote Ensign Mainwaring of the 51st, and Napier bears him out in saying that at one time "twelve thousand men were in a state of helpless inebriety." Fortunately the rearguard was well away from the neighbourhood of the wine, though, as the historian points out, there was at the moment little to fear from the enemy, "since the French drunkards were even more numerous than those of the British army." Small wonder that the major thought that his civilian brother would not understand such things. He himself realised, as probably did Wellington also, that fatigue had produced so great a craving for drink as to drive the men mad. To punish twelve thousand men equally implicated was, of course, out of the question, and fortunately there was no further opportunity of obtaining drink during the retreat. The incident, however, showed the temper of the troops, and, though many bore their hardships with extraordinary fortitude, and though all fought valiantly when called upon to do so, there is no disguising the fact that the discipline of the army as a whole was bad.

The woman who, Major Rice says, was killed by the first shot at the Valladolid bridge, was the wife of a soldier of the regiment, and at the moment when the unfortunate shot struck her she was sitting by the side of her husband, eating her breakfast in fancied shelter. One wonders what the women of those days were made of, for numbers of them accompanied the army throughout the Peninsular War, and shared all the trials and troubles of their husbands. Numerous are the stories told of the heroism of these women, but why they were permitted to take the field is never made clear. With every regiment there marched several of them; children were born to them on the line of march; they died of fatigue; they saw their husbands killed in action, and sometimes they married again, while still on active service. Green, in his 'Vicissitudes,' mentions the case of a regimental woman (of the 68th) who married no fewer than four husbands during the war, each one dying or being killed almost before her eyes. One marvels at the indomitable courage possessed by these women of a century ago; and there were officers' wives who at times were present with the army, one notable case being that of Mrs Dalbiac, who, throughout the battle of Salamanca, seated on her horse, and often exposed to the enemy's fire, calmly watched her husband's performances in the fight. Nor was this courage restricted to British women, for every one knows the romantic story of the young Spanish lady who became the wife of Major (afterwards Sir Harry) Smith, after Badajoz, and thenceforward followed the fortunes of her husband in bivouac and camp until the end of the war.[73]

The army remained in the Tordesillas camp only a day after Major Rice despatched the above letter, when it marched to Salamanca, and there, on the 10th November, it was joined by Hill's force from Madrid. It will be remembered that when Wellington marched north on the 1st September, he left two divisions (under Hill) in occupation of the Spanish capital. After a while the armies of Soult and King Joseph began to display considerable activity, and towards the end of October were reported to be marching on Madrid in overwhelming strength. Whether Hill could have held his own is doubtful; perhaps, fortunately, he was not required to make the attempt, even if he had any intention of doing so, for Wellington, so soon as he had decided on withdrawing from before Burgos, ordered Hill to abandon Madrid and join him, if possible, by way of the Guadarama Pass. On the last day of October, therefore, Hill, having blown up the Retiro and destroyed the stores in Madrid, retreated by the Guadarama, and was never seriously pressed by the French.

The united army then marched out of Salamanca on the way to Ciudad Rodrigo, and during the following week the rearguard was almost continuously at bay. The main body plodded on, generally in pelting rain, always on muddy roads, short of food, and otherwise distressed beyond measure. As on the retreat to Corunna, the soldiers grew sullen for want of a battle, and at length the sight of vast herds of swine in the forests proved too much for them. They wanted food, and here it was at hand; so they quitted the ranks by hundreds to shoot the pigs, until Wellington, hearing the heavy firing, thought that the enemy was pushing an attack. For a time the army was at the mercy of the French, had they but known it; but order was presently restored, though not before two of the marauders had been hanged, by Wellington's command, as an example to the rest, and not before two thousand British stragglers had been captured by the enemy.

At San Muños the 51st came in for a sharp skirmish, and had Captain McCabe killed and eight men wounded; at the passage of the Huebra, the Light Division, covering the rear, had some heavy fighting, for the enemy's pursuit was vigorous, and his artillery fire often heavy. Stragglers were cut off, and a good deal of baggage was captured, but at length the troops saw the friendly walls of Ciudad Rodrigo, and knew that their troubles were at an end. The retreat had lasted for nearly a month; the weather throughout was inclement; the sick and wounded suffered severely; the whole army was hungry as well as footsore; and consequently the bulk of the men were out of hand, and even insubordinate. The pig-raiding prevailed up to the last day's march, for no punishment could stop it; and had the retreat continued a little longer, Wellington's army must have suffered some terrible disaster.

Once back on their old ground, and supplied with ample provisions from Rodrigo, the men's spirits were restored, and getting into dry quarters in the villages surrounding the fortress, the soldiers settled down for the winter, and put the weary retreat out of their minds. They were worn out; for almost a year they had marched continuously, and fought frequently; they had placed to their credit the capture of Ciudad Rodrigo and Badajoz, the victory at Salamanca, the triumphant entry into Madrid, and numerous minor successes. Only the retreat from Burgos tarnished their laurels; for when their losses, during this last phase of the year's operations, came to be reckoned up, they were found to be heavy. Including the siege of Burgos, Wellington's army suffered to the extent of some nine thousand men, not counting a vast number of officers and soldiers subsequently invalided from the effects of the unfortunate retreat.

Major Rice, probably to his own astonishment, succeeded in struggling on to the end of the year's campaigning, and then, having seen his regiment settled in tolerable comfort in cantonments, was forced to give in. He was immediately invalided home, and his brother, who had received his Tordesillas letter only on the 26th December, was no little surprised at the arrival, on the 15th January (1813), of the following hurriedly written note, bearing the Falmouth post-mark:--

"You will be surprised, but I trust agreeably, that I am landed
on British ground. I made my escape with some difficulty, though
honourably, from the Favourite Peninsula. I ventured my carcass
in the packet as the safest conveyance, but it was like to have
proved most woeful. Never did I, nor probably ever shall I,
suffer such distress. Dreadful weather, and all but lost by bad
reckoning on the part of the marine tribe. We got on the breakers
off Ushant--blowing a gale of wind; nothing but a miracle saved us
from a watery grave. I never felt till then _Danger_--in its most
pitiable state. I've been in contact with my friend _Death_ often,
and rather familiar, but he appeared at that moment more grim than
usual. I will recount my manifold adventures when we meet, which I
hope will be in a few days. I touch on my way at Morshead's and my
friend Kelly's near Launceston. You shall hear on what day I can be
with you.

_"Falmouth, 11 o'clock, 13th January 1813._--Just landed from the
packet--fatigued and jaded beyond description."

Such was the home-coming of one of many gallant men, who, broken down by the hardships which they had endured while fighting for the honour and glory of their country, arrived to find their stay-at-home fellow-countrymen playing the part of arm-chair critics, and decrying Wellington's great work. These critics forgot the splendid victories which the Commander-in-Chief had won, and the fame which he had been building up for England, and they remembered only what had happened latest--the retreat from Burgos, which they regarded, seemingly with joy, as a disaster to British arms. Yet is it ever so.