Читать книгу A Boy in the Peninsular War - Robert Blakeney - Страница 10

Table of Contents

There was now a large force suddenly collected in Benevente, which under any circumstances causes much confusion, but more particularly at that moment, when our chief employment was the destruction of stores. Nevertheless the duty was performed with extraordinary forbearance on the part of the men, particularly when it is considered that the Spanish authorities, either from disinclination to serve the British or from a dread of the enemy, who, as they knew, must occupy the town in a very short time, took no care whatever to supply our troops regularly with provisions, or indeed with anything which we required. The same feelings pervaded all ranks of the inhabitants; and although with payment in our hands we sought for bread, wine, and animals to convey our baggage, yet nothing could be procured. The magistrates either hid themselves or retired; the inhabitants denied everything of which we stood most in need, and whilst all the shops were open in Madrid and in all other towns through which the French army passed or which they held, every door was shut against the British army. It seldom fell to the lot of the reserve to sleep in a house during the movement to Corunna, but in those which we passed whilst marching along every article of food was hid with which the enemy were subsequently supplied in abundance; and in no part of Spain was this want of good feeling towards the British more apparent than in Benevente, a specimen of which will be seen in the following anecdote:—

LOVE AND WINE.

After the destruction of Gonzolo bridge, when the 52nd Regiment marched into Benevente, though benumbed with wet and cold, yet they could not procure a single pint of wine for the men, either for love or money, or for mere humanity which under such circumstances would have moved the breast of most men to an act of charitable generosity. During the anxious pleading to the feelings and the dogged denial, a sergeant of his company came to Lieutenant Love, of the above-mentioned regiment, informing him that in an outhouse belonging to the convent in which they were billeted he discovered a wall recently built up, by which he conjectured that some wine might have been concealed. Love instantly waited on the friars, whom he entreated to let the men have some wine, at the same time offering prompt payment. The holy fat father abbot constantly declared, by a long catalogue of saints, that there was not a drop in the convent. Love, although a very young man at the time, was not easily imposed upon. Reconnoitring the premises, he had a rope tied round his body, and in this manner got himself lowered through a sort of skylight down into the outhouse, where the sergeant had discovered the fresh masonry through a crevice in the strongly barricaded door. After his landing, the rope was drawn up, and two men of the company followed in the same manner. They fortunately found a log of wood, which, aided by the ropes, they converted into a battering ram, and four or five strong percussions well directed breached the newly built wall. Now rushing through the breach, they found the inner chamber to be the very sanctum sanctorum of Bacchus. Wine sufficient was found to give every man in the company a generous allowance. The racy juice was contained in a large vat, and while they were issuing it out in perfect order to the drenched and shivering soldiers, the fat prior suddenly made his appearance through a trap-door, and laughingly requested that at least he might have one drink before all was consumed. Upon this one of the men remarked, “By Jove! when the wine was his, he was damned stingy about it; but now that it is ours, we will show him what British hospitality is, and give him his fill.” So saying, he seized the holy fat man, and chucked him head foremost into the vat; and had it not been for Love and some other officers, who by this time had found their way into the cellar, the Franciscan worshipper of Bacchus would most probably have shared the fate of George Duke of Clarence, except that the wine was not Malmsey.

This anecdote was told to me at the time by some officers of the 52nd. Then it was I had the pleasure of first making the acquaintance of Lieutenant Calvert of that regiment, long since lieutenant-colonel. This acquaintance was afterwards renewed under no ordinary circumstances at the battle of Barossa. The anecdote was many years later confirmed by Love himself in the Island of Zante, where in 1836 he was quartered with the 73rd Regiment, of which he was lieutenant-colonel at the time when I was writing these Memoirs. I read him the whole of these Memoirs, and found his recollection of the campaign very interesting. The dates of his commissions and mine in the respective ranks of ensign, lieutenant, and captain were within a few months of each other; but he became lieutenant-colonel long before I retired from the service still as captain. Yet he was an old soldier at the time; and if gallant conduct on all occasions which offered during a long career, devoted attachment to his profession and ardent zeal to promote its honour and glory can give a claim to advancement, by none was it better merited. The only extraordinary circumstance attending his promotion was that he obtained it through personal merit.

CHARGE OF LORD PAGET.

On the 28th the divisions of Generals Hope and Fraser moved out of Benevente for Astorga; the reserve and light brigade remained until the 29th. On that morning the enemy’s cavalry, commanded by Napoleon’s favourite General, Lefèbre Desnouettes, forded the Esla, and as they were taken for the advance of a large force, the reserve and light brigades were ordered instantly to retire on the road leading to Astorga. Although General Stuart, who took command of our cavalry piquets, gallantly resisted Lefèbre, and every step was met with a blow, yet the French general sternly moved forward along the plain which skirted Benevente. Lord Paget, who viewed from a distance what passed at the extremity of the plain, in courtesy allowed the French general to advance until it became too dangerous for his troops to proceed farther; then, at the head of the 10th Hussars, whom he had previously formed under cover of some houses, he rode furiously at the enemy, who, wheeling round, were pursued into the very bed of the Esla, where “many a deadly blow was dealt,” and it was shown once again that British steel was not to be resisted when wielded by British soldiers determined to vindicate the superiority of their national productions.

On gaining the opposite bank of the river the enemy immediately formed on rising ground which overlooked the stream, and displayed symptoms of returning to the fight; but our artillery having interfered with some well-directed shrapnel shots, the foe retired in disgust and pride, leaving their gallant and accomplished general behind to refine our manners, if not our steel. On his arrival in England he was sent to Bath, where he showed with what facility a Frenchman can insinuate himself into society as a man of spirit and gallantry.

Whilst our guns continued to fire upon the retreating enemy, the rearguard of the reserve were evacuating Benevente. During our march we were passed on the road by seventy or eighty dragoons of the Imperial Guard, together with their leader General Lefèbre, who were made prisoners in the affair of the morning. The general looked fierce and bloody, from a wound which he received across the forehead while gallantly defending himself in the stream wherein he was taken. In this affair our dragoons suffered a loss of fifty men killed and wounded. The French left fifty-five killed and wounded on the field, and seventy officers and men prisoners, together with their general. It cannot be said that there was any disparity of force, for although in the commencement of the affair the French were far more numerous, yet towards the close the reverse was the case.

We arrived at Labaneza that night, and next day marched into Astorga. Here we were crossed by the ragged, half-starved corps of Spaniards under the partial control of the Marquis of Romana, which circumstance not a little astonished us, as the marquis repeatedly promised Sir John Moore that he would retire into the Asturias. This unexpected interruption to our march was attended with the most serious consequences to our army, and from it may be dated the straggling which soon commenced. The Spaniards, shivering from partial nakedness and voracious from continued hunger, committed the greatest disorders in search of food and raiment. Their bad example was eagerly followed by the British soldiers in their insatiable thirst for wine; and all the exertions, even of the Commander of the forces personally, were not of much avail. We could not destroy the stores, which had to be abandoned. The civil authorities rather impeded than assisted us in procuring the means of transport; nor could rations be regularly served out to the men sufficient for a two days’ march. The troops of the two nations seemed envious of each other, lest the depredations of one should give it what they in their blind excesses considered an advantage over the other. They prowled about the town the greater part of the night, and when they attempted to take repose there arose a contention for choice of quarters; so that our march was commenced next morning without the men having taken useful nourishment or necessary repose.

VENTRILOQUISTS CAMPAIGNING.

It was on that night which we passed at Astorga that I discovered a circumstance of which I had not been previously aware—namely, that in the light company of the 28th Regiment there was a complete and well-organised band of ventriloquists who could imitate any species of bird or animal so perfectly that it was scarcely possible to discover the difference between the imitation and the natural tone of the animal imitated. Soon after we contrived to get into some kind of a quarter, the men being in the same apartment with the officers owing to the crowd and confusion, a soldier named Savage, immediately on entering the room, began to crow like a cock, and then placed his ear close to the keyhole of a door leading into another apartment, which was locked. After remaining in this attentive position for some moments, he removed to another part of the room and repeated his crowing. I began to think that the man was drunk or insane, never before having perceived in him the slightest want of proper respect for his superiors. Upon my asking him what he meant by such extraordinary conduct in the presence of his officers, he with a smile replied, “I believe we have them, sir.” This seemingly unconnected reply confirmed me in the opinion I had formed of his mental derangement, the more particularly as his incoherent reply was instantly followed by another crow; this was answered apparently in the same voice, but somewhat fainter. Savage then jumped up, crying out, “Here they are!” and insisted upon having the door opened; and when this was reluctantly done by the inhabitants of the house, a fine cock followed by many hens came strutting into the room with all the pomp of a sultan attended by his many queens. The head of the polygamist, together with those of his superfluous wives, was soon severed from his body, notwithstanding the loud remonstrances of the former owners, who, failing in their entreaties that the harem should be spared, demanded remuneration; but whether the men paid for what they had taken like grovelling citizens, or offered political reasons as an apology like great monarchs, I now cannot call to mind. But however the affair may have been arranged, the act was venial, for had the fowls been spared by our men they must have fallen into the stomachs of our enemies next day; and it is not one of the least important duties of a retreating army to carry away or destroy anything which may be useful to their pursuers, however severely the inhabitants may suffer.

During the night I was awakened by the ventriloquists, who, with appropriate harmony, were loudly bleating, cackling, crowing, cooing, lowing—in fact, imitating every species of animal; so that at the moment I awoke I fancied myself in an extensive menagerie. Indeed, the powerful effect of their music on many occasions during the retreat came to my knowledge; and so judiciously did they exert their talents that animals of all descriptions came frisking to their feet, offering a practical elucidation of the powers attributed to Orpheus when round him danced the brutes.

MISERY OF SPANIARDS.

On the last day of 1808 we marched from Astorga with more headaches than full stomachs; and the light brigade having moved on the route to Vigo, the rearguard fell exclusively to the reserve during the remainder of the retreat. The distance we had to move on that day being short, we continued until late to destroy stores and such field equipments as, for want of animals, could not be carried away; and after eight or nine miles’ march we arrived in the evening at a small village called Cambarros. At this place our evil genius, the Spaniards, again crossed us, and the scenes at Astorga were partially renewed; but as only the sick and stragglers of the Spanish army were there, the contention was but little—in fact, their miserable and forlorn condition called forth compassion rather than other sentiments. Two or three cartloads of them being put down at an outhouse where I was on piquet with the light company, we took them in. Such misery I never beheld, half-naked, half-starved, and deprived of both medicine and medical attendance. We administered a little of our general cordial—rum; yet three or four of these wretches expired that night close to a large fire which we lit in the middle of the floor.

Our stay at Cambarros was but short, for scarcely had the men laid down to repose, which was much wanted in consequence of the manner in which they had passed the previous night, when some of our cavalry came galloping in, reporting that the enemy were advancing in force. We were immediately ordered to get under arms, and hurried to form outside the town on that part facing Bembibre. While we were forming a dragoon rode up, and an officer who being ill was in one of the light carts which attended the reserve, cried out, “Dragoon, what news?” “News, sir? The only news I have for you is that unless you step out like soldiers, and don’t wait to pick your steps like bucks in Bond Street of a Sunday with shoes and silk stockings, damn it! you’ll be all taken prisoners.” “Pray, who the devil are you?” came from the cart. “I am Lord Paget,” said the dragoon; “and pray, sir, may I ask who you are?” “I am Captain D——n, of the 28th Regiment, my lord.” “Come out of that cart directly,” said his lordship; “march with your men, sir, and keep up their spirits by showing them a good example.” The captain scrambled out of the cart rear, face foremost, and from slipping along the side of the cart and off the wheels, and from the sudden jerks which he made to regain his equilibrium, displayed all the ridiculous motions of a galvanised frog. Although he had previously suffered a good deal from both fatigue and illness, yet the circumstance altogether caused the effect desired by his lordship, for the whole regiment were highly diverted by the scene until we arrived at Bembibre, and it caused many a hearty laugh during the remainder of the retreat.

We arrived within a league of Bembibre at daybreak on the morning of January 1st, 1809, and were there halted at a difficult pass in the mountains to cut the road. It appeared that some of the leading divisions had already commenced this work; spades, pickaxes, and such tools were found on the spot. We had not continued long at this employment when we were ordered to desist, since Bembibre was turned by the Foncevadon road, which joined that on which we were, not far from Calcabellos, and so the work was considered useless. This order was received with the greatest joy; indeed, there was no duty which we would not more willingly perform than that of handling the pickaxe, and that too during a severe frost and after a long night march. We therefore joyfully moved on to Bembibre.

On approaching this village, we discovered Sir David Baird’s division, who had just left, and were proceeding on the road to Villa Franca. We now fully anticipated some repose, to which we thought ourselves entitled by our laborious occupation of destroying stores at Astorga the whole time we were there, and the long and severe night march which we had just terminated; but we were sadly disappointed. The leading columns, well aware of the value and necessity of vigilance, although it was shamefully neglected by themselves, left sufficient matter behind to prevent the reserve from sleeping too much; and when we entered the town of Bembibre and expected to stretch our wearied limbs, we were ordered to pile arms and clear all the houses of the stragglers left behind.

HORRORS OF BEMBIBRE.

The scenes here presented can only be faintly imagined from the most faithful description which even the ablest writer could pen; but little therefore can be expected from any attempt of mine to paint the scandal here presented by the British troops or the degrading scenes exhibited through their debauchery. Bembibre exhibited all the appearance of a place lately stormed and pillaged. Every door and window was broken, every lock and fastening forced. Rivers of wine ran through the houses and into the streets, where lay fantastic groups of soldiers (many of them with their firelocks broken), women, children, runaway Spaniards and muleteers, all apparently inanimate, except when here and there a leg or arm was seen to move, while the wine oozing from their lips and nostrils seemed the effect of gunshot wounds. Every floor contained the worshippers of Bacchus in all their different stages of devotion; some lay senseless, others staggered; there were those who prepared the libation by boring holes with their bayonets into the large wine vats, regardless of the quantity which flowed through the cellars and was consequently destroyed. The music was perfectly in character: savage roars announcing present hilarity were mingled with groans issuing from fevered lips disgorging the wine of yesterday; obscenity was public sport. But these scenes are too disgusting to be dwelt upon. We were employed the greatest part of the day (January 1st, 1809,) in turning or dragging the drunken stragglers out of the houses into the streets and sending as many forward as could be moved. Our occupation next morning was the same; yet little could be effected with men incapable of standing, much less of marching forward. At length the cavalry reporting the near approach of the enemy, and Sir John Moore dreading lest Napoleon’s columns should intersect our line of march by pushing along the Foncevadon road, which joined our road not many miles in front of us, the reserve were ordered forward, preceded by the cavalry, and the stragglers were left to their fate. Here I must say that our division, imbibing a good deal of the bad example and of the wine left behind by the preceding columns, did not march out of Bembibre so strong as when they entered it.

INFAMY OF FRENCH DRAGOONS.

We had proceeded but a short distance when the enemy’s horsemen nearly approached the place; and then it was that the apparently lifeless stragglers, whom no exertion of ours was sufficient to rouse from their torpor, startled at the immediate approach of danger, found the partial use of their limbs. The road instantly became thronged by them; they reeled, staggered, and screaming threw down their arms. Frantic women held forth their babies, suing for mercy by the cries of defenceless innocence; but all to no purpose. The dragoons of the polite and civilised nation advanced, and cut right and left, regardless of intoxication, age or sex. Drunkards, women and children were indiscriminately hewn down—a dastardly revenge for their defeat at Benevente; but they dearly paid for their wanton cruelty when encountered next day at Calcabellos. The foe, rendered presumptuous by their easy victory gained over the defenceless stragglers, rode so close to our columns that that distinguished officer, Colonel Ross with his gallant 20th Regiment was halted and placed in an ambush, formed by the winding of the road round the slope of a hill which concealed them until nearly approached. The remainder of the reserve marched on and halted at a considerable distance. But the French were over cautious, and after a lapse of more than an hour, during which time many wounded stragglers joined the main body of the division, Colonel Ross was recalled, much disappointed by the enemy’s declining to advance. He reluctantly joined the main body of the reserve, who immediately moved forward. Thus every means was used compatible with prudence to cover and protect the unworthy stragglers from Bembibre; and great risk was run, for we did not feel ourselves secure until we passed the junction of the roads mentioned, not knowing what force might be pushing forward along the Foncevadon line.

Continuing our march at a rather accelerated pace until we passed the junction, we arrived at Calcabellos about an hour before dark.