Chapter V: Appendix: , No. I.--Storming of San Sebastian 493 (4)

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 England, 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; and 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.”[62]

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 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.”[63]

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 was passed in Betanzos,[64] 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 echellon, 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.[65] 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.”[66]

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.

Every thing 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 English 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 English 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, shewed 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.[67]

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[68]--and on the afternoon of the 17th, the whole fleet was under weigh, steering for England 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 aid-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.”[69]

The benefits derived to an army from the example of a distinguished commander, do not terminate at his death; his virtues live in the recollections of his associates, and his fame remains the strongest incentive to great and glorious actions.[70] In Sir John Moore this was pointedly true; for in public and private life none was more amiable-- none, certainly, more exemplary. But, speaking professionally, one is at this day, astonished at the different estimates then formed of his qualifications as a general. Nearly forty years have elapsed, and time best determines the abilities of men--popular clamour, whether favourable or unfriendly, loses its temporary influence--and the merits or defects of departed greatness can, at an after period, be dispassionately examined and adjudged.

_Sir T. Lawrence._
_H. Cook._

John Moore]

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.

Sir John Moore was a brave, high-minded, and accomplished soldier; understood the details of his profession, and laboured assiduously[71] to carry them into operation. He was an excellent commander _en second_,--but he never could handle masses of men, like Napoleon or Wellington--grapple with difficulties when they unexpectedly occurred--and, when apparently on the verge of defeat, change, by his own resources, the fortunes of a field, and turn an unpromising morning into an evening of victory. For this he was constitutionally unfitted. He laboured under an excessive sensibility that embarrassed his decisions. A fever of the mind, which robs the judgment of its energy, was frequently apparent; and sentiments and language will be found in every portion of his correspondence,[72] which, while they indicate an amiable disposition, are sadly out of keeping with that stern sufficiency of thought, that should mark the unhesitating character of a commander. Moore wanted confidence in himself; he was afraid of responsibility; he underrated the qualities of his own troops, and greatly overrated those of his adversary. Yet, let justice be done. He acted under circumstances at once difficult and trying; and he was harassed in being made, in some degree, dependent upon the opinions of others. Lord Londonderry, who does ample justice to the memory of Moore, says, “The British army has produced some abler men; and many, in point of military talent, were and are quite his equals; but it cannot, and perhaps never could, boast of one more beloved, not by his personal friends alone, but by every individual that served under him.”

CONNECTING CHAPTER.

Consequences of the embarkation.--Wretched position of Spanish
affairs.--State of Portugal.--Memoir of the Guerillas.

The immediate consequence of the embarkation, was the surrender of Corunna on the second day from that on which the once proud army of England quitted the coast of Spain. Ferrol soon followed the example-- and in both these places, an immense supply of stores and ammunition was obtained. All effective resistance was apparently at an end--and French dominion seemed established in Gallicia more strongly than it had ever been before.

In every part of Spain, the cause of freedom appeared hopeless. One campaign was closed, and never did one end more hopelessly;[73]--an unvarying scene of misfortune from the commencement, it seemed to have withered every national feeling that might have existed in Spanish breasts. Fortresses that should have held out, provisioned, garrisoned, and open to receive supplies from England, surrendered to a weak army, who could not command “a battering gun or siege store within four hundred miles.” In fact, Spanish resistance seemed a mockery. Their military force was now the ruins of Romana’s army, and some half-starved fugitives who occasionally appeared in Estremadura and La Mancha,--while the French had nearly two hundred thousand veteran troops covering the whole country,--and these too in masses, that set any hostile demonstration at defiance.

Portugal, in its military footing, was nearly on a par with Spain. A British corps, under Sir John Craddock, garrisoned Lisbon--and, that place excepted, there were no troops in the kingdom on which the slightest dependence could be placed. The appointment of Marshal Beresford to a chief command, produced in time a wonderful reformation. The English system of drill was successfully introduced,--and, before the war ended, the Portuguese, when brigaded with the British, were always respectable in the field, and sometimes absolutely brilliant. At this period, there was but one national force in the least degree formidable to the invaders--and that was the Spanish Guerillas.

The Spanish armies in the course of the Peninsular campaign had met so many and discouraging defeats, that their military reputation sunk below the standard of mediocrity. They were despised by their enemies, and distrusted by their allies, and whether from the imbecility of the government, the ignorance of their leaders, or some national peculiarity, their inefficiency became so notorious, that no important operation could be entrusted to them with any certainty of its being successful. As an organized force, the Spanish army was contemptible; while, in desultory warfare, the peasantry were invaluable. With few exceptions, the history of Spanish service would be a mere detail of presumption and defeat; while their neighbours, the Portuguese, merited the perfect approbation of their officers, and proved worthy of standing in the battle-field by the side of British soldiers.

The irregular bands, termed Partidas and Quadrillas, partly formed from peasant volunteers and smugglers, and enlisted and paid by government, were embodied originally by order of the Central Junta. At first their numbers were few, and their efficiency as military partisans not very remarkable--but as the Spanish armies declined in strength and reputation, the guerillas proportionately increased. The most determined spirits would naturally select a life of wild and desperate adventure[74]--and a love of country and religion, an unextinguishable hatred of oppression, inflamed the passions of a people proverbial for the intensity of feeling with which they regarded even an imaginary insult. They had now deep and heart-burning injuries to stimulate them to hatred and revenge,--and the ferocity with which they retaliated for past and present wrong, gained for these formidable partisans a name that made the boldest of their oppressors tremble.

A brief sketch of this wild and devoted confederacy, so connected with the Peninsular operations during that arduous struggle, will not be irrelevant.

“There was in the whole system of guerilla warfare a wild and romantic character, which, could its cruelty have been overlooked, would have rendered it both chivalrous and exciting--and men, totally unfitted by previous habits and education suddenly appeared upon the stage, and developed talent and determination, that made them the scourge and terror of the invaders.

“But theirs was a combat of extermination,--none of those courtesies, which render modern warfare endurable, were granted to their opponents,--the deadliest hostility was unmitigated by success,-- and, when vanquished, expecting no quarter from the French, they never thought of extending it to those who unfortunately became their prisoners. A sanguinary struggle was waging, and _væ victis_ seemed, with ‘war to the knife,’ to be the only mottos of the guerilla.

“The strange exploits of many of these daring partisans,[75] though true to the letter, are perfectly romantic; and their patient endurance, and the deep artifice with which their objects were affected, appear to be almost incredible. Persons, whose ages and professions were best calculated to evade suspicion, were invariably their chosen agents. The village priest was commonly a confederate of the neighbouring guerilla,--the postmaster betrayed the intelligence that reached him in his office,--the fairest peasant of Estremadura would tempt the thoughtless soldier with her beauty, and decoy him within range of the bullet; even childhood was frequently and successfully employed in leading the unsuspecting victim into some pass or ambuscade, where the knife or musket closed his earthly career.”[76]

In every community, however fierce and lawless, different gradations of good and evil will be discovered, and nothing could be more opposite than the feelings and actions of some of the guerillas and their leaders.

Many of these desperate bands were actuated in every enterprise by a love of bloodshed and spoliation, and their own countrymen suffered as heavily from their rapacity, as their enemies from their swords. Others took the field from nobler motives; an enthusiastic attachment to their country and religion roused them to vengeance against a tyranny which had now become insufferable,--every feeling but ardent patriotism was forgotten--private and dearer ties were snapped asunder,--homes, and wives, and children, were abandoned,--privations, that appear almost incredible, were patiently endured, until treachery delivered them to the executioner, or in some wild attempt they were overpowered by numbers, and died resisting to the last.

Dreadful as the retaliation was which French cruelty and oppression had provoked, the guerilla vengeance against domestic treachery was neither less certain nor less severe.[77] To collect money or supplies for the invaders, convey any information, conceal their motions, and not betray them when opportunity occurred, was certain death to the offender. Sometimes the delinquent was brought, with considerable difficulty and risk, before a neighbouring tribunal, and executed with all the formalities of justice; but, generally, a more summary vengeance was exacted, and the traitor executed upon the spot. In these cases, neither calling nor age were respected--and, if found false to his country, the sanctity of his order was no protection to the priest.

The daughter of the collector of Almagro, for professing attachment to the usurper, was stabbed by Urena to the heart,--and a secret correspondence between the wife of the Alcalde of Birhueda and the French general in the next command, having been detected by an intercepted despatch, the wretched woman, by order of Juan Martin Diez, “the Empecinado,”[78] was dragged by a guerilla party from her house, her hair shaven, her denuded person tarred and feathered, and disgracefully exhibited in the public market-place,--and she was then put to death amid the execrations of her tormentors. Nor was there any security for a traitor, even were his residence in the capital, or almost within the camp of the enemy. One of the favourites of Joseph Buonaparte, Don Jose Riego, was torn from his home in the suburbs of Madrid, while celebrating his wedding, by the Empecinado, and hanged in the square of Cadiz. The usurper himself, on two occasions, narrowly escaped from this desperate partisan. Dining at Almeida, some two leagues distance from the capital, with one of the generals of division, their hilarity was suddenly interrupted by the unwelcome intelligence that the Empecinado was at hand, and nothing but a hasty retreat preserved the pseudo-king from capture. On another occasion, he was surprised upon the Guadalaxara-road, and so rapid was the guerilla movement, so determined the pursuit, that before the French could be succoured by the garrison of Madrid, forty of the royal escort were sabred between Torrejon and El Molar.

A war of extermination raged, and on both sides blood flowed in torrents. One act of cruelty was as promptly answered by another; and a French decree, ordering that every Spaniard taken in arms should be executed, appeared to be a signal to the guerillas to exclude from mercy every enemy who fell into their hands. The French had shown the example; the Junta were denounced, their houses burned, and their wives and children driven to the woods. If prisoners received quarter in the field,--if they fell lame upon the march, or the remotest chance of a rescue appeared, they were shot like dogs. Others were butchered in the towns, their bodies left rotting on the highways, and their heads exhibited on poles. That respect, which even the most depraved of men usually pay to female honour, was shamefully disregarded,--and more than one Spaniard, like the postmaster of Medina, was driven to the most desperate courses, by the violation of a wife and the murder of a child.[79]

It would be sickening to describe the horrid scenes which mutual retaliation produced. Several of the Empecinado’s followers, who were surprised in the mountains of Guadarama, were nailed to the trees, and left there to expire slowly by hunger and thirst. To the same trees, before a week elapsed, a similar number of French soldiers were affixed by the guerillas. Two of the inhabitants of Madrid, who were suspected of communicating with the brigands, as the French termed the armed Spaniards, were tried by court-martial, and executed at their own door. The next morning, six of the garrison were seen hanging from walls besides the high road. Some females related to Palarea, surnamed the Medico, had been abused most scandalously by the escort of a convoy, who had seized them in a wood; and in return the guerilla general drove into an Ermida eighty Frenchmen and their officers, set fire to the thatch, and burned them to death, or shot them in their endeavours to leave the blazing chapel. Such were the dreadful enormities a system of retaliation caused.

These desperate adventurers were commanded by men of the most dissimilar professions. All were distinguished by some _sobriquet_, and these were of the most opposite descriptions. Among the leaders were friars and physicians, cooks and artisans; while some were characterized by a deformity, and others named after the form of their waistcoat or hat. Worse epithets described many of the minor chiefs,-- truculence and spoliation obtained them titles; and, strange as it may appear, the most ferocious band that infested Biscay was commanded by a woman named Martina. So indiscriminating and unrelenting was this female monster in her murder of friends and foes, that Mina was obliged to direct his force against her. She was surprised, with the greater part of her banditti, and the whole were shot upon the spot.

Of all the guerilla leaders the two Minas were the most remarkable for their daring, their talents, and their successes. The younger, Xavier, had a short career--but nothing could be more chivalrous and romantic than many of the incidents that marked it. His band amounted to a thousand--and with this force he kept Navarre, Biscay, and Aragon in confusion; intercepted convoys, levied contributions, plundered the custom-houses, and harassed the enemy incessantly. The villages were obliged to furnish rations for his troops, and the French convoys supplied him with money and ammunition. His escapes were often marvellous.[80] He swam flooded rivers deemed impassable, and climbed precipices hitherto untraversed by a human foot. Near Estella he was forced by numbers to take refuge on a lofty rock; the only accessible side he defended till nightfall, when, lowering himself and followers by a rope, he brought his party off without the loss of a man.

This was among his last exploits; for, when reconnoitring by moonlight, in the hope of capturing a valuable convoy, he fell unexpectedly into the hands of an enemy’s patrol. Proscribed by the French as a bandit, it was surprising that his life was spared; but his loss to the guerillas was regarded as a great misfortune.

While disputing as to the choice of a leader, where so many aspired to a command to which each could offer an equal claim, an adventurer worthy to succeed their lost chief was happily discovered in his uncle, the elder Mina. Educated as a husbandman, and scarcely able to read or write, the new leader had lived in great retirement, until the Junta’s call to arms induced him to join his nephew’s band. He reluctantly acceded to the general wish to become Xavier’s successor; but when he assumed the command, his firm and daring character was rapidly developed. Echeverria, with a strong following, had started as a rival chief; but Mina surprised him--had three of his subordinates shot with their leader--and united the remainder of the band with his own. Although he narrowly escaped becoming a victim to the treachery of a comrade, the prompt and severe justice with which he visited the offender, effectually restrained other adventurers from making any similar attempt.

The traitor was a sergeant of his own, who, from the bad expression of his face, had received among his companions the sobriquet of Malcarado. Discontented with the new commander, he determined to betray him to the enemy, and concerted measures with Pannetti, whose brigade was near the village of Robres, to surprise the guerilla chieftain in his bed. Partial success attended the treacherous attempt; but Mina defended himself desperately with the bar of the door, and kept the French at bay till Gustra, his chosen comrade, assisted him to escape. The guerilla rallied his followers, repulsed the enemy, took Malcarado, and shot him instantly; while the village cure and three alcades implicated in the traitorous design, were hanged side by side upon a tree, and their houses rased to the ground.

An example of severity like this gave confidence to his own followers, and exacted submission from the peasantry. Every where Mina had a faithful spy--every movement of the enemy was reported; and if a village magistrate received a requisition from a French commandant, it was communicated to the guerilla chief with due despatch, or woe to the alcade that neglected it.

Nature had formed Mina[81] for the service to which he had devoted himself. His constitution was equal to every privation and fatigue, and his courage was of that prompt and daring character which no circumstance, however sudden and disheartening, could overcome. Careless as to dress or food, he depended for a change of linen on the capture of French baggage or any accidental supply; and for days he could subsist on a few biscuits, or any thing chance threw in his way. He guarded carefully against surprise--slept with a dagger and pistols in his girdle; and such were his active habits, that he rarely took more than two hours of repose. Remote caverns were the depositories of his ammunition and plunder; and in a mountain fastness he established an hospital for his wounded, to which they were carried on litters across the heights, and placed in perfect safety until their cure could be completed. Gaming and plunder were prohibited, and even love forbidden, lest the guerilla might be too communicative to the object of his affection, and any of his chieftain’s secrets should thus transpire.

Of the minor chiefs many strange and chivalrous adventures are on record. The daring plans, often tried and generally successful, and the hair-breadth escapes of several, are almost beyond belief. No means, however repugnant to the laws of modern warfare, were unemployed; while the ingenuity with which intelligence of a hostile movement was transmitted--the artifice with which an enemy was delayed, until he could be surrounded or surprised, appear incredible. Of individual ferocity a few instances will be sufficient. At the execution of an alcade and his son at Mondragon, the old man boasted that two hundred French had perished by their hands; and the Chaleco, Francis Moreno, in a record of his services, boasts of his having waited for a cavalry patrol in a ravine, and by the discharge of a huge blunderbuss, loaded nearly to the muzzle, dislocated his own shoulder, and killed or wounded nine of the French. The same chief presented to Villafranca a rich booty of plate and quicksilver, and added to the gift a parcel of ears cut from the prisoners whom on that occasion he had slaughtered.

Profiting by the anarchy that reigned in this afflicted country, wretches, under political excuses, committed murder and devastation on a scale of frightful magnitude. One, pretending to be a functionary of the Junta, made Ladrada a scene of bloodshed. By night his victims were despatched; and, to the disgrace of woman, his wife was more sanguinary than himself. Castanos at length arrested their blood-stained career; and Pedrazeula was hanged and beheaded, and Maria, his infamous confederate, gavotted.

Castile was overrun by banditti; and one gang, destroyed by a guerilla chief named Juan Abril, had accumulated plunder, principally in specie, amounting in value to half a million of reals. One of the band, when captured by the French, to save his life discovered the secret, and offered to lead a party to the place where the treasure was deposited. His proposal was accepted. An alguazil, with an escort of cavalry, proceeded to the wood of Villa Viciosa, and there booty was found worth more than the value affixed to it by the deserter. Returning in unsuspecting confidence, the party were drawn into an ambuscade by the Medico, who had been acquainted with the expedition; and of the escort and officials, with the exception of five who managed to escape, every one was butchered without mercy.

Such were the wild and relentless foes to whom the invaders were exposed--such were the Spaniards, who had made themselves remarkable for patriotism and endurance--surpassing courage, and unmitigated cruelty.[82]

OPERATIONS AND OCCURRENCES FROM THE DEATH OF SIR JOHN MOORE TO THE ARRIVAL OF SIR ARTHUR WELLESLEY.

Operations of the French.--General Friere murdered.--Defeat of the
Spanish armies.--Siege of Zaragoza.--Operations in Catalonia.--
Proceedings at Lisbon.--Arrival of Sir Arthur Wellesley.--State
of the allied army.--Soult’s dangerous position.

Under such unpromising circumstances, which we have described, intelligence reached Sir John Craddock, that three French armies were about to move on Portugal; Soult from Gallicia, Lapisse from Salamanca, and Victor from the Tagus. In the vicinity of the latter, Cuesta was endeavouring to organize anew his routed levies: but on his exertions little dependence could be placed--and when the alarm spread, the garrison of Almeida was withdrawn, the forts on the Tagus dismantled, and every preparation was made to embark the British at Lisbon, and abandon Portugal to her oppressors.

This panic was, however, checked by the preservation of Almeida and Rodrigo, by Sir Robert Wilson’s Portuguese, added to some advantages gained by Cuesta’s army over the French, under Victor. The British force in Lisbon had also been reinforced--twenty thousand Portuguese were taken into the pay of England--and all these things restored, in some degree, a partial confidence.

After the embarkation at Corunna, the French were for a short time inactive. Ney relieved Soult in Gallicia with seventeen thousand men, and enabled the latter to advance on Oporto with twenty-four thousand. After garrisoning Vigo and Tuy, he attempted to cross the Minho near its mouth--but, from imperfect means of transport, he was repulsed, and obliged to march up the river, and pass it by the bridge at Orense. This movement, though in the first instance unfavourable, had nearly ended in the destruction of Romana; who, being surprised and defeated, saved himself only by some happy accidents from total ruin.

On entering Portugal, the few and ill-disciplined remnants of the Spanish regiments fell back upon the mountain country, General Friere prudently adopting a defensive system, rather venture a combat, for which he knew well that his army was utterly unprepared. This determination of the Spanish general was unpopular. Unpractised in the field, without discipline or formation, and blind to the severe lessons taught them by their recent defeats, these raw levies were ardent for action, and clamorous to meet the enemy again. A number of irregulars, who had lately joined, excited this popular delusion--and they insisted that, contrary to his own judgment, that their general should fight. Friere prudently and steadily refused; and his mutinous soldiers--if such a mob deserve the name--broke into his quarters, treated him with every ignominy, and finally murdered himself and most of his staff.

They immediately elected a British _employé_, Baron Eben, who commanded a Lusitanian brigade, as their commander; and, he, unable to control their fancy for fighting, brought them fairly into action at Carvalho de Este. As might have been expected from such ruffians, they were completely routed. Like Falstaff, the Baron had brought his “scoundrels where they were well peppered,”--and many fell victims to their stupidity and presumption, in supposing for a moment, that they could encounter Soult’s veteran troops with the slightest prospect of success. Oporto was next besieged--and though the city was garrisoned by twenty thousand men, having two hundred guns mounted on the works, it was stormed on the third day. The usual scenes of military license, which the usage of war permits after a successful assault, were here fearfully enacted. Soult, however, checked the turbulence of the soldiery after the first burst of fury had subsided; and on the next day, order was generally restored.

Meanwhile the Spanish armies were undergoing a series of disasters-- and Cuesta was driven from the southern frontier, after suffering a signal defeat. Victor following up his success, crossed the Tagus at Almaraz, and threw himself on the Spanish army. The French charge was stoutly withstood--the cavalry driven back--and, in return, Victor’s left attacked, and forced for nearly two miles to retire. But it rallied--the Spanish horse, which had been pursuing, suddenly gave way; a panic seized the infantry--the whole broke--threw down their arms,--and endeavoured to save themselves by a precipitous flight. No quarter was given--upwards of nine thousand men were bayoneted and cut down--and the Spanish army was totally disorganized, and placed, for every useful purpose, completely _hors de combat_.

The army of La Mancha was not more fortunate in an engagement at Ciudad Real with Sebastiani. Broken at the first charge, they were hunted off the field, and pursued by the French cavalry to the very base of the Sierra Morena. Their guns and three thousand prisoners were the trophies of a complete _déroute_. The number of their killed and wounded was immense, for the French followed up their success with unscrupulous severity, cutting down or bayoneting every fugitive that could be overtaken. No wonder that the French marshals carried terror with their names; and that the overthrow of the Spanish legions alarmed their British allies at Lisbon. Means were adopted for defence, in the event of the French advancing--a corps was stationed at Abrantes--the main body at Leria--and the Portuguese under Beresford at Thomar.

Some other operations of moment had occurred in Arragon and Catalonia. In Arragon the reduction of Zaragoza was the next attempt of the French after the fatal fight of Tudela; and there, a resistance was unexpectedly given by the inhabitants, that finds no parallel in the annals of war.[83] Every effort of art and labour was exhausted to render the city one huge fortress; the convent became a barrack; the church an hospital; woman forgot her fears; the monk left the shrine for the battery; every street was retrenched; every building secured by barricades; and when the external defences were destroyed, and the walls levelled by the besiegers, the contest had to be continued from street to street--and house after house was as obstinately defended, as if upon its occupation the fate of Zaragoza hung. Although hunger exhausted their energies, and pestilence swept the defenders away by thousands, the stern reply to every summons was “_guerre a la cuchulo!_” At last, when every street was ruined--when forty thousand of every sex and age had perished--twelve thousand wretched men, too much enfeebled to resist, and a ruined heap of shattered buildings, were the dear-earned trophies that fell to the conquerors of Europe.

In Catalonia, for a time, the progress of French conquest was interrupted. St. Cyr, however, advanced with twenty thousand men, and after a spirited resistance, obliged Rosas to surrender. Following up his success, the French general marched and attacked Vives, who had taken up a strong position defended by a number of guns. Although St. Cyr was unprovided with cannon--his mountain movement having obliged him to send his artillery to Figueras--he threw himself upon the Spanish lines, broke and dispersed them, with great slaughter, and the loss of the whole of their guns. Again, at Llobregat, he brought the Spanish general to action, and the battle terminated with results as ruinous. Vives was deposed from the command, and Reding succeeded him.

Reding, finding himself in command of thirty thousand men, decided on acting on the offensive, and moved forward with his army. This determination was unfortunate. St. Cyr, availing himself of the great extension of Reding’s force, threw himself upon its centre, severed the wings, and destroyed their communication. After vainly endeavouring, by reuniting a portion of his beaten troops to oppose Souham, Reding was overtaken by St. Cyr, near Tarragona--again defeated, his army dispersed, and himself mortally wounded.

Blake succeeded to the chief command on Reding’s death; and while a detachment of a thousand French was surprised on the river Cinca by Perena, the Spanish commandant engaged Suchet with credit, and drove him at night-fall from the field. This partial victory roused the drooping spirits of the Spaniards--and Blake moved into Arragon to recapture Zaragoza from the invaders.

These temporary successes held out little prospect of repelling invading armies, which were expecting an immense addition to their force. In fact, Portugal would have been soon at the mercy of the enemy, and Spain could have offered but a feeble resistance, when Sir Arthur Wellesley arrived to take the chief command--or, as many believed, to witness a second embarkation, and yield Portugal once more to the invaders.

These forebodings were unfounded--nothing was farther from the intention of Sir Arthur than an abandonment of the country. He instantly proceeded to adopt measures that should enable him to take the field, and the army was concentrated, with the exception of Mackenzie’s brigade, at Coimbra, and reviewed. The entire numbered twenty-six thousand men, of which six thousand formed the separate corps under Marshal Beresford. With the Germans, the English brigades mustered about seventeen thousand; the detached corps under Mackenzie, amounting to nearly three thousand, of which one half was cavalry; and a farther augmentation was effected by brigading one Portuguese, with every two of the British battalions.

A strong division--Mackenzie’s brigades--with Portuguese regiments amounting to twelve thousand men, were posted at Santarem and Abrantes. This corps was intended to secure Lisbon, should Victor prefer marching on the capital by Alentejo, rather than proceed with his army into Andalusia.

In the mean time Soult’s position became extremely dangerous.--A British army in his front--bands of guerillas in his rear; one flank hemmed in by Silviera at Amarante; and the ocean on the other. But that able marshal perceived the difficulties of his situation, and deciding at once to secure an open road in his rear, he despatched Delaborde and Loison to recover Amarante. The task was a tedious and doubtful operation; and for twelve days the place was assaulted and maintained.[84] At last, Soult in person came forward in strength-- and Silviera was driven from the bridge over the Tamaga, with the loss of his cannon,--and the French retreat was for the present secured.

But two courses remained for the duke of Dalmatia to adopt--to move towards Victor, by circuitous marches on the Tagus--or, what was far more probable, retire from Portugal by the road leading through the Tras os Montes.

PASSAGE OF THE DOURO.

First movements of the Allies.--Affairs with French cavalry and
rear-guard.--Passage of the Douro.--Soult’s disorderly retreat.--
French suffer heavily.--Wellesley moves to the south, and
communicates with Cuesta.--Combined movement planned.--Cuesta’s
imbecility mars it.--Victor escapes.

From the moment Sir Arthur Wellesley landed in Portugal, the character of the war had changed; and, notwithstanding the numerous and discouraging drawbacks upon a bold career which the obstinacy of the Spaniards and the deficiency of his own means were continually presenting, before the masterly decision of the British general, all obstacles ultimately gave way; and victory, which had hovered doubtfully over many a hard-contested field, at last rested on his banners, and wreathed her laurels round his brows.

Never had a triumphant campaign a bolder or more brilliant opening. On the 7th of May, the cavalry brigade, under General Cotton, marched on the Oporto road, followed by the remainder of the army in three divisions; those of generals Paget and Payne moving towards Vouga; and the third, under General Hill, advancing on Aveira. The movements were slowly executed, to allow Marshal Beresford time to reach his destination, and seize the bridge of Amarante, before a British force should display itself in front of Oporto.

These plans of Sir Arthur Wellesley were ably effected by the officers in command. While Beresford was marching with all expedition on the Upper Douro, Hill, on the night of the 9th, passed a brigade in fishing-boats across the lake, and at dawn of day landed it safely at Ovar, turning the right flank of the French; while Beresford, having joined Wilson, drove Loison’s corps to Amarante, and turned their left. Sir Arthur hoped to have taken Franchesci, who commanded the French cavalry division at Abegeria Nova, by surprise; but a country difficult to traverse, and accidental delays in transporting the guns through the pass of Vouga, prolonged the march. When the cavalry, under Cotton, came in sight of the enemy in the morning, they found him perfectly prepared, and in an excellent position--his cavalry in line upon a level plain--their flank resting on a pine wood occupied by a body of tirailleurs. General Cotton halted and formed in their front-- and in this attitude, Sir Arthur found the French and his own advanced guard.

The infantry having now arrived, the wood was cleared of its sharpshooters, and dispositions made for bringing the cavalry to action; but Franchesci, though quickly pursued, succeeded in retreating--abandoning the position to the British, and by a night march uniting himself to Mermet, whom he joined at Grijon.

Here, Sir Arthur found them on the 11th, posted strongly on some high grounds behind the village, and to all appearance, determined to hold them. In a rapid survey of the position, the British general perceived that the left could be turned; and although the column never halted, the necessary manœuvres were effected by detaching General Murray on the right from the rear of the advanced guard, and throwing a Portuguese regiment into a pine wood on the left, to amuse the attention of the enemy, while General Paget threatened them in front. For a short time a heavy firing was maintained, but, on the flank movement being discovered, the French instantly abandoned the position and retreated. The British were as promptly thrown into column again, and the march resumed, as if nothing had happened, and every movement had been that of a field-day.

A brilliant cavalry affair succeeded. On topping the heights from which the French had been forced, their rear was seen retiring in confusion, and General Stuart volunteered to charge with a few troops of hussars that were fortunately at hand. The attack was made in sections. The British cavalry galloped down the road, overturned all that opposed them, and made above one hundred prisoners. Nothing could check their daring gallantry, until the French infantry were halted on a height commanding the road. Although unable to face the fire of a force so posted as those were who held Carvalhos, the squadrons wheeled boldly to the right, and threatened the left of the enemy. Dreading lest they should be overtaken and outflanked, the French instantly gave up the hill, and continued retiring rapidly.

The march commenced at nine in the morning--and at five the troops halted for the night, having had their advanced guard almost constantly engaged. This, however, never checked the movement of the columns, and the division occupied the ground the French had left--Sir Arthur supping in the convent of Grijon with his staff. It must have been indeed a busy day with the _religieux_--for four generals, Delaborde, Thomieres, Mermet, and Franchesci, had favoured them with their company at breakfast.

All went on favourably; Hill had landed at Ovar--Cameron came up--and both were in communication. Though holding better ground, the enemy had in every attack been driven back. Yet they had fought gallantly, and it was encouraging to British soldiers to find that they had fairly met the best troops in Europe, and as fairly beaten them.

Next morning the march was renewed. Soult avoided any collision, retreated over the Douro, destroyed the bridge, and carried every boat that could swim to the other bank, and there effectually secured them.

This was a critical moment--and in a more dangerous position a British general never found himself. A broad and rapid river separated the allies from the enemy, and no means of passing it could be discovered. Soult might retire unmolested into Gallicia if he pleased, or attack Beresford singly, overpower him by superior force, and enter Beira. Danger often stimulates bravery to startling but successful enterprises; and in this emergency Wellesley decided on as bold an effort as modern warfare parallels,--the crossing of the Douro.

It was, indeed, a daring and a perilous attempt; a strong force was on the other bank; the shores were steep and rocky, and the stream three hundred yards across. Every means had been taken by Soult to make the passage impracticable. His generals of brigade were in observation on the banks; every point of passage was defended; while the marshal satisfied himself that the bridge was utterly destroyed, as he watched from midnight till daybreak the burning pontoons as they went floating down the current. The only practicable plan that seemed left for Sir Arthur to adopt was to employ the shipping, and land his troops at the débouchement of the Douro; and, in that belief, the French general retired to his head-quarters, from which he could observe the sea-- and, as he expected, watch the disembarkation.

Wellesley, aware how dangerously Marshal Beresford was situated, had determined at every hazard to cross the river, and arrangements were instantly made. General Murray was despatched to Avintes to try the ford, and if boats could be found, to send them down the stream,-- the Guards, under General Sherbrooke, were detached to attempt the ferry below the town;--while, from the convent of Santo Agostinho, the British commander directed the main operations in person. A spot was marked on the opposite shore as a favourable place for landing. It was an unfinished building near the bank, and there, the troops first passed over were directed to establish themselves until assistance reached them. To cover this landing-place some guns were quietly got into battery in the convent garden. Every preparation was made--and a fortunate accident obtained the means of passage.

A small skiff was discovered hidden in some high rushes, that had concealed it from the French. A few peasants and a Portuguese colonel crossed over, and found some three or four crazy barges, half buried in the mud. These prizes were instantly secured. Three companies of the Buffs jumped in, accompanied by General Paget. The opposite bank was gained,--the dismantled building garrisoned,--and the barges were returning for a fresh detachment, before the French seemed aware of the attempt, and--as it turned out--when it was too late to repel it.