During a violent snow-storm which overtook us on our march upon Corunna, several of my comrades, and myself among the rest, wearied with fatigue, took refuge one evening in a small out-house or hovel, as it afforded temporary shelter from the descending storm. There we resolved to pass the night; and having gathered a few sticks, we placed them in the middle of the shed, and kindled a fire for mutual benefit. In the course of the night we were surprised by hearing a rap at the door, accompanied by the weak tone of some one craving admission. Half a dozen voices instantly exclaimed: ‘Come in!’ when, lo! a woman, recognised as the wife of a soldier, but hardly able to stand, crept into the shed, and asked protection from the hurricane that was loudly howling along the sierra. Had Satan himself begged an entrance at such a moment, we should scarcely have been able to repress our pity. The poor, wandering woman was received with rough but honest sympathy, and was invited to approach the fire. When able to speak she asked for a certain company, to which her husband belonged; we told her it was considerably in advance, and at present out of her reach. Modesty prevented the poor creature from further explanation; when, to the surprise of the men present, the weak cry of a child was heard. The fact was, the mother had in the course of the preceding day given birth to an infant while on the snowy ridge of a desolate mountainous tract, and without the company of a single human being; and yet, so far all was well: there is One Who tempers the wind to the shorn lamb. The lives both of the mother and her offspring were likely to survive. English soldiers know how to feel, nor are they quite destitute of discretion; they may be rather rough in manner, nor can they at all times invent the phraseology of oily compliment, but they have no part of the bear about them except the skin, unless provoked, and then the consequences must be abided: when virtue is in distress, none can show sympathy with greater delicacy, or exercise benevolence with more perfect freedom. At the appearance and sad tale of this suffering daughter of affliction, every heart in the place was touched; wretched as was our own condition, each man contrived to spare something. They even parted with some article of their own linen, much as they needed it, for the purpose of contributing to the warmth and comfort of the sufferer; kindness of speech was added, and it did wonders. While on our march the following day, the woman, again on her feet, was observed by one of our officers; he was told the story of her distress, and, with kindness which none but a great and gallant heart possesses, he alighted from his horse and tramped with us in favour of the poor woman and child. The animal, like his master, joined in the scheme, and carried his novel load most comfortably. I rejoice to add, that both root and branch were preserved, and eventually transplanted in the soil at home.

Let me be permitted here to relate the particulars of another circumstance, the truth of which is attested by evidence which none need doubt. But it will be as well to premise at once, that if the fact to be disclosed should meet the eye of any person disposed to deny the doctrine of a particular Providence, overseeing and directing the concerns of men, to bring down the lofty, to raise the lowly, and support the weak and feeble, the detail will be unworthy of notice, as the instruction it conveys is based upon the belief that, from the rapt seraph that burns before the throne, to the minutest particle of dust borne upon the eddying gale, and in and through the all but infinite gradations of rational and instinctive beings which lie between, almighty Goodness provides and metes out its dispensations with justest weight and measure.

Not long before our arrival at Corunna, and in the severest part of the retreat, Surgeon Griffith, of the Dragoons, while riding at a rapid pace, observed a woman with a child reclining on the snow: the weather was tempestuous, and the advanced posts of the enemy not far in the rear. Humanity, however, compelled him to notice the unfortunate female; he immediately reined in his horse and dismounted, when he discovered with regret that the woman now stretched upon the ground had just breathed her last. She had dropped, no doubt, and perished like many others from mere exhaustion; while the infant, all unconscious of the calamity, had nestled his head close to the cold bosom of his hapless mother, and was endeavouring to suck as heretofore. The melancholy spectacle had now fully aroused the compassion of the horseman, and as relief came too late for the parent, he determined if possible to save the child. He accordingly lifted him up, and after placing him comfortably on the saddle, again mounted and rode on. The apprehended danger was soon realised: having lost time by this merciful act, he was overtaken by the enemy’s cavalry, by whom he and the child were captured and ordered to the rear. This good Samaritan was, however, faithful to his charge, and he and the infant, though prisoners, were inseparable companions. After being detained some time in France, and having visited Paris, Griffith obtained his liberty on parole, and proceeded to England. The tender little child had by this time grown into a healthy boy, and was placed by the interest of his benefactor in the Military Asylum at Chelsea. Even here his kind attentions were continued; he generally paid the lad a Sabbath-day visit, and never failed to bring him a present either for his instruction or amusement, not forgetting to line his pocket with a little of the needful for passing exigencies.

About three years after the occurrence just related, a soldier who had lost his wife and child in Spain came to the asylum at Chelsea to inquire concerning the welfare of a son of his named Hector, who had been previously placed in the establishment. The veteran had not long been engaged in conversation with Hector when the attention of the former was excited by the appearance of a younger lad, in whose countenance there were lines on which his sight seemed to be unavoidably riveted. On consideration, the features were more familiar than ever; the thought then arose, ‘Perhaps this may be my long-lost child who I deemed had perished in the snow,’ The father recollected that on a particular place just above one of the knees, his child had a scar; and on raising the boy’s trousers, there it was! The two brothers, though unknown, had been playfellows, and were mutually attached. The delights of this singular recognition may be better conceived than described. Let us hope that a life so remarkably preserved was well spent. How justly might the father exclaim: ‘This my son, who was dead, is alive again; and he who was lost is found!’

On the 18th of January, 1809, we left the shores of Spain, and made the voyage home on board the Hindostan, of sixty-four guns, which had been partially cut down and prepared as a transport. We encountered several heavy gales during the passage, but were mercifully preserved from a watery grave. It was on a Sabbath evening that the lighthouse near Plymouth became visible from deck; it is built on a ledge of rock, about eighteen miles from the harbour, and gave us cheering proof that we were nearing the land we loved. After remaining at anchor for a short time, it was judged advisable to proceed up the Channel; we accordingly weighed, and stood for Portsmouth, at which place the shattered remains of our regiment were safely landed. Aware of the deplorable figure we made, the debarkation was cleverly effected under cover of the night. The pride which urged this method was, I trust, excusable. Such a legion of ragged warriors I should think never before approached this or any other land; we were therefore glad to escape observation, and march quickly into barracks. Our old clothes, by far too bad for amendment, were speedily burned, together with a countless company of Spanish insects thereunto appertaining, and which, to our oft-repeated sorrow, we were never able fully to eject. A few weeks’ residence on shore restored us to society and our friends; and in a period of time marvellously short we held ourselves ready for service either at home or abroad.

Time rolled rapidly away, and though our stay in England was extended to the space of several months, such was the buoyancy of our spirits and the general hilarity that it had passed like a summer’s day. The business of recruiting our ranks had gone on so rapidly that by the end of May we mustered a thousand rank and file; nor were our arms in the least danger of contracting rust: firing at a target was an every-day exercise, field-days were frequently appointed, and the note of warlike preparation was familiar and agreeable. I am sorry to say that my boasting cannot extend to the morals of my friends. Cards and dice, with other games of chance, connected with the intemperance and dissipation of which they are the usual forerunners, consumed the time of most of those by whom I was surrounded. From these excesses I was preserved; and if asked by what means, I can only reply, that I felt an aversion to such practices, grounded, I firmly believe, upon the advices once received from my honoured mother, which as a warning and monitory voice pursued and protected me through life, and by which, though far away, she seemed to speak the words of wisdom. The regularity of my conduct as a private soldier attracted the notice of the officers, and I had the satisfaction of hearing that there was some probability of an elevation from the place I held in the ranks to that of a corporal in the British army,—a distinction to which my wishes were earnestly directed. Having remained some time at Colchester, orders were received towards the close of May to march to the coast. We accordingly proceeded to Harwich, and immediately embarked. With the exception of the inconveniences arising from crowded berths and provisions of very defective quality, nothing occurred to ruffle the good humour that prevailed between decks during the passage.

In little more than thirty days from the time of leaving home we were released from our confinement on shipboard. It was a pleasing sound when the man on look-out exclaimed, ‘Land ahead.’ In the course of a few hours we passed the castle of St. Julian, and soon after rode at anchor in the Tagus, from whence we were conveyed in boats to Villa Franca and Santarem. The latter is a fine, large town, commanding a noble view of the adjacent country. The weather was extremely hot, and water scarce. Wine was cheap, three pints of which could be obtained for about fourpence. Anxious to form a junction with the forces under Sir Arthur Wellesley, who, it was rightly conjectured, might be engaged with the enemy, our march was urged by every possible means. We suffered in consequence very severely. Over head the scorching rays of an almost vertical sun appeared to wither the face of nature, while the hot sand on which we trod blistered and inflamed our feet.

By uncommon exertion we reached Abrantes, where we found a small encampment, formerly occupied but hastily abandoned by the French. Ready to drop as most of us were, the halt, though short, was grateful, and of great value. After a brief stay, our march was renewed with greater speed than before; and as the nights were comparatively cool, we advanced without intermission. Proofs that hard fighting had commenced now crowded on us on every side. We met several dastardly renegade Spaniards, who asserted that the British forces were defeated, and all was lost. Scattered groups of wounded men were also occasionally seen silently retiring. The muttering of distant artillery had been heard for some time; but these indications of actual contest, so far from dispiriting our party, called forth redoubled exertions to press forward. Our pace increased to a kind of impetuous movement, which, by tacit agreement, was to be neither retarded nor turned aside. The result was, that though three thousand strong, with the exception of seventeen stragglers left behind, one of whom was well thrashed with some olive twigs for leaving the ranks, we had, in twenty-six hours, crossed the field of battle in a close and compact body, and passed over sixty-two English miles, in the hottest season of the year, each man carrying from fifty to sixty pounds’ weight upon his shoulders. It is not for me to boast; but if this was not stepping out with spirit, I should like to know what is.

Our arrival was hailed as an auspicious omen; for though too late to take any part in the battle of Talavera, which had just been fought, our presence served to exhilarate the army, which, though victorious, required support. The fight had been well sustained on both sides. From nine o’clock in the morning until mid-day the field of battle Offered no appearance of hostility; the weather was intensely hot, and the troops on both sides descended and mingled, without fear or suspicion, to quench their thirst at the little brook which divided the positions; but at one o’clock in the afternoon the French soldiers were seen to gather round their eagles, and the rolling of drums was heard along the whole line. Half an hour later the guards of King Joseph, the reserve, and the 4th corps, were descried near the centre of the enemy’s position, marching to join the 1st corps; and at two o’clock the tableland and the height on the French right, even to the valley, were covered with the dark and louring masses. The Duke of Belluno, whose arrangements were now completed, gave the signal for battle; and eighty pieces of artillery immediately sent out a tempest of bullets before the light troops, who, coming on swiftly, and with the violence of a hailstorm, were closely followed by the broad black columns, in all the majesty of war.

Sir Arthur Wellesley, from the summit of the hill, had a clear view of the entire scene of action. He saw the 4th corps rush forward with the usual celerity of French soldiers, and, clearing the intrenched ground in their front, fall upon Campbell’s division with prodigious fury; but that general, assisted by Mackenzie’s brigade and by two Spanish battalions, withstood their utmost efforts. The English regiments putting the French skirmishers aside, met the advancing columns with loud shouts, and, breaking in on their front, and lapping their flanks with fire, and giving no respite, pushed them back with terrible carnage. Ten guns were taken; but, as General Campbell prudently forbore pursuit, the French rallied on their supports, and made a show of attacking again, but did not attempt it. The British artillery and musketry were directed with vehement accuracy against their masses, and a Spanish regiment of cavalry charging on their flank at the same time, the whole retired in disorder, and the victory was secured in that quarter. The next grand attack was directed to the English centre, which was thrown into great confusion, and for some time completely broken. The fate of the day for some moments seemed to incline in favour of the French, when suddenly Colonel Donellan with the 48th regiment, was seen advancing through the midst of the disordered masses. At first it appeared as if this regiment must be carried away by the retiring crowds; but, wheeling back by companies, it let them pass through the intervals, and then resuming its firm and beautiful line, marched against the right of the pursuing columns, plied them with such a destructive musketry, and closed upon them with a pace so regular and steady, that the forward movement of the French was checked. The Guards and the Germans immediately rallied; a brigade of light cavalry came up from the second line at a trot; the artillery battered the enemy’s flanks without intermission, and the French, beginning to waver, soon lost their advantage, and the battle was restored.

The annals of warfare often tell us that in all actions there is one critical and decisive moment which will give the victory to the general who knows how to discover and secure it. When the guards first made their rash charge, Sir Arthur Wellesley, foreseeing the issue of it, had ordered the 48th down from the hill, although a rough battle was going on there, and at the same time he ordered Cotton’s light cavalry to advance. These dispositions gained the day. The French relaxed their efforts by degrees; the fire of the English grew hotter, and their loud and confident shouts, sure augury of success, were heard along the whole line. The French army soon after retired to the position from whence it had descended to the attack. This retrograde movement was covered by skirmishers, and increasing fire of artillery; and the British, reduced to less than fourteen thousand men, and exhausted by toil and want of food, were unable to pursue. The battle was scarcely over when the dry grass and shrubs taking fire, a volume of flame passed with inconceivable rapidity across a part of the field, scorching in its course both the dead and wounded. The loss of the British in the course of this severe action and previous skirmishing was upwards of six thousand men killed and wounded. That of the French, as afterwards appeared in a manuscript of Marshal Jourdan, was rather more than seven thousand three hundred.

The following morning presented a choice of disagreeables. Having taken a position along the battlefield somewhat in advance of the British line, we were surrounded with the dying and the dead. The number of the latter was hourly increasing. Combatants who had mingled in the fray, belonging to either army, lay intermingled in frightful heaps. Many of the bodies, though exposed only for so short a time to the sun’s rays, were offensively putrid and discoloured, so that interment without ceremony or distinction became necessary for the safety of the living. Meantime provisions were scanty, the water we had to drink was stagnant, the heat of the weather increased, and the enemy was hastily concentrating in great force in the vicinity. The 30th of July was passed by Sir Arthur in establishing hospitals at Talavera, and in fruitless endeavours to procure food, and the help required to keep the wounded men from perishing. On this occasion the Spanish behaved infamously. Not an inhabitant, although possessing ample means, would render the slightest aid, nor even assist to bury the dead. The corn secreted in Talavera alone was sufficient to support the army for a month; but the troops were starving, although the inhabitants, who had fled across the Tagus with their portable effects at the beginning of the battle, had returned. This conduct left an indelible impression on the minds of the English soldiers. From that period their contempt and dislike of the Spaniards were never effaced. The principal motive in war with these people was personal rancour; hence those troops who had behaved so ill in action, and the inhabitants, who alike withheld their sympathy and their aid from the English soldiers, to whose bravery they owed the preservation of their town, were busily engaged after the battle in beating out the brains of the wounded French, as they lay upon the field; and they were only checked by the English soldiers, who, in some instances, fired upon the perpetrators of this horrible iniquity.

Hitherto the allied generals had paid little attention to the Duke of Dalmatia’s movements; but on the 30th of July information was received that he had entered Placentia at the head of an imposing force. The danger of the British on account of their numerical inferiority was extreme; in fact, the fate of the Peninsula was suspended on a thread, which the events of a few hours might dissever; and yet it was so ordered that no irreparable disaster ensued. The generals on each side at length became acquainted with each other’s strength; and this, it will be believed, was a moment of extreme peril for the British. Their progress was barred in front, the Tagus was on their left, impassable mountains on their right, and it was certain that the retreat of the Spanish would bring down the king and Victor upon their rear. In this trying moment Sir Arthur Wellesley abated nothing of his usual calmness and fortitude. He knew not the full extent of the danger; but assuming the enemy in his front to be thirty thousand men, and Victor to have twenty-five thousand others in his rear, he judged that to continue the offensive would be rash, because he must fight and defeat those two marshals separately within three days, which, with starving and tired troops, inferior in number, was scarcely to be accomplished. The movements of Sir Arthur were executed with precision and success. About noon, the road being clear, the columns marched to the bridge, and at two o’clock the whole army was in position on the other side; the present danger was therefore averted, and the combinations of the enemy baffled.

Our sufferings during these rapid transitions were almost intolerable. During the passage several herds of swine were met with, feeding in the woods, when the soldiers ran in among the animals, shooting, stabbing, and, like men possessed, cutting off the flesh while the beasts were yet alive. Well has it been said that hunger will break through stone walls. I had carried a sheaf of wheat for many miles on my knapsack, rubbing the ears when opportunity offered between my hands, and eating the extracted grain with rapture. At night, by way of a feast, I used to thrash a little more, by bruising the grain, having first laid my greatcoat on the ground for the purpose. On one occasion a comrade, by great exertion, procured a small quantity of bullock’s blood. We agreed to boil it for dinner, and halve it between us. We did so; and, though unaided even by a bit of salt, I thought it delicious. These privations occurred in our passage through an elevated and open tract of country, where shelter from the sultry heat could hardly be procured. One of these spots we called Mount Misery. Many a time we have breakfasted upon the acorns or oak-nuts beaten down by the Spanish swineherds for the use of the hogs. A goat’s offal sold at this time for four dollars, or about double the usual price of the whole animal; and men and officers strove to outbid each other in the purchase of this wretched pittance. In one word, famine raged through the camp; and it was notorious that the Spanish cavalry intercepted the provisions and forage destined for the English army, and fired upon the foragers, as if they had been enemies.

From Arzobispo the army moved towards Deleytoza; and our brigade, with six pieces of artillery, was directed to gain the bridge of Almarez by a forced march, lest the enemy, discovering the ford below that place, should cross the river, and seize the Puerto de Mirabete. The roads were rugged, and the guns could be drawn only by the force of men. The movement was, however, effected. The Spaniards under Albuquerque were not equally successful. The infantry were sleeping or loitering about without care or thought, when Mortier, who was charged with the direction of the attack, taking advantage of their want of vigilance, commenced the passage of the river. The French cavalry, about six thousand in number, were secretly assembled near the ford, and about two o’clock in the day General Caulincourt’s brigade suddenly entered the stream. The Spanish, running to their arms, manned the batteries, and opened upon the leading squadrons; but Mortier, with a powerful concentric fire of artillery, overwhelmed the Spanish gunners, and dispersed the infantry who attempted to form. On the 20th of August the main body of the British army quitted Jaraicejo, and marched by Truxillo upon Merida. Our brigade, under General Crauford, being relieved at Almarez by the Spaniards, took the road of Caceres to Valencia de Alcantara; but the pass of Mirabete discovered how much we had suffered. Our brigade, which only a few weeks before had traversed sixty miles in a single march, were now with difficulty, and after many halts, only able to reach the summit of the Mirabete, although only four miles from the camp; and the side of that mountain was covered with baggage, and the carcases of many hundred animals that died in the ascent. In this eventful campaign of two months, the loss of the army was considerable. Above three thousand five hundred men had been killed, or had died of sickness, or had fallen into the hands of the enemy. Fifteen hundred horses had perished for want of food; and, to fill the bitter cup, the pestilent fever of the Guadiana, assailing those who by fatigue and bad nourishment were predisposed to disease, made frightful ravages. Dysentery, that scourge of armies, also raged, and in a short time above five thousand men died in the hospitals.

Passing by the details of successive conflicts sustained with unequal success by the Spanish forces in opposing their invaders, it may be sufficient generally to state, that their inability to maintain the defensive positions assumed, without English co-operation, was evident. An attempt was at length made by the French forces, under Marshal Victor, to gain possession of Cadiz, situate in the Isle of Leon, in Andalusia, the finest port in Spain, with a mercantile and wealthy population of a hundred and fifty thousand inhabitants. For this purpose preparations of extraordinary magnitude were made. The assaulting army was spread quite round the margin of the harbour. Works of contravallation were constructed not less than twenty-five miles in extent, and strong batteries frowned upon the city wherever they could be erected with advantage to the besiegers. The lines of blockade were connected by a covered way concealed by thick woods, and when finished mounted three hundred guns. On the other hand, the Spanish troops under Albuquerque, composing the garrison, were in a miserable condition. The whole had been long without pay, and the greater part without arms or accoutrements. Men were placed in command destitute of energy or local influence, and private traffic was unblushingly pursued with the public stores. Albuquerque was afterwards sent ambassador to England, where he died soon after of a frenzy, brought on, it is said, by grief and passion at the unworthy treatment he received.

In this deplorable state of affairs, British troops again appeared, and the surrender of the city by that means was averted. On the 11th of February, 1810, General Stewart arrived in Cadiz with three thousand men, who were received with enthusiastic joy. On the 17th of the same month, thirteen hundred Portuguese arrived, and Spanish troops in small bodies came in daily. Two ships of war, the Euthalion and Undaunted, arrived from Mexico, with six millions of dollars; and other British troops having appeared, the whole force assembled behind the Santa Petri was not fewer than eighteen thousand effective men. The worst symptom was, that among the Spaniards there was little enthusiasm, and not a man among the citizens had been enrolled or armed, or had volunteered either to labour or fight. General Stewart’s first measure was to recover Matagorda, a most important point, about four thousand yards from the city, which the Spaniards had foolishly dismantled and abandoned. In the night of the 22nd, a detachment, consisting of fifty marines and seamen, twenty-five artillerymen, and sixty-seven of the 94th regiment, the whole under the command of Captain M’Lean, pushed across the channel during a storm and took possession of the dismantled fort, before morning effected a solid lodgment, and although the French cannonaded the work with field artillery all the next day, the garrison was immovable.

Early in March a more minute survey of the general state of the whole of the defensive works was made, when it appeared that the force then assigned was quite inadequate, and that to secure it against the efforts of the enemy, twenty thousand soldiers, and a series of redoubts and batteries, requiring the labour of four thousand men for three months, were absolutely necessary; and yet an unaccountable apathy prevailed. In vain did the English engineers present plans, and offer to construct works: the Spaniards would never consent to pull down a house or destroy a garden; and had the enemy been then prepared to press onward vigorously, the city must have been lost by procrastination so fatal.

One word more for Matagorda. The capture of this place by a few intrepid men has been mentioned. Though frequently cannonaded, it had been held fifty-five days, and contributed to prevent the completion of the enemy’s works at the Troccadero Point. This small fort, of a square form, without a ditch, with bomb-proofs insufficient for the garrison, and with one angle projecting towards the land, was little calculated for resistance; and, as it could only bring seven guns to bear, a Spanish seventy-four and an armed flotilla were moored on the flanks to co-operate in the defence. The French had, however, raised great batteries behind some houses on the Troccadero, and, as daylight broke on the 21st of April, a hissing shower of heated shot falling on the seventy-four and in the midst of the flotilla, obliged them to cut their cables and take shelter under the works of Cadiz. Then the fire of forty-eight guns and mortars of the largest size was concentrated upon the little fort of Matagorda, and the feeble parapet disappeared in a moment before this crashing flight of metal. The naked rampart, and the undaunted hearts of the garrison, remained; but the troops fell fast, the enemy shot quick and close; a staff, bearing the Spanish flag, was broken six times in an hour, and the colours were at last fastened to the angle of the work itself; while the men, especially the sailors, besought the officers to hoist the British ensign, attributing the slaughter to their fighting under a foreign flag. Thirty hours the tempest lasted, and sixty-four men out of one hundred and forty were down, when General Graham sent boats to carry off the survivors. The bastion was then blown up, under the direction of Major Lefebre, an engineer of great promise; and he also fell,—the last man whose blood wetted the ruins thus abandoned.

An action must be here recorded truly heroic. A sergeant’s wife, named Retson, was in a casemate with the wounded men, when a very young drummer was ordered to fetch water from the well of the fort. Seeing the child hesitate, she snatched the vessel from his hand, braving the terrible cannonade herself; and although a shot cut the bucket-cord from her hand, she recovered the vessel, and fulfilled her mission. In July, the British force in Cadiz was increased to eight thousand five hundred men, and Sir Richard Keats arrived to take the command of the fleet. The operations of the besiegers were thus greatly checked; and the mighty lines, constructed with so much labour and skill, led to little or nothing.

As the spring of the year advanced, the operation of the campaign became increasingly extended and important. Reinforcements from France continued to crowd the roads. The command of these collected forces, which included seventeen thousand of the Imperial Guards, was entrusted to MassÉna, Prince of Essling, on account of his great name in arms. Under his auspices Ney commenced the first siege of Ciudad Rodrigo; and if he expected to carry it without delay, it only shows that, like some of his predecessors, he was liable to mistake. The present governor, Don Andreas Herrasti, was a veteran of fifty years’ service, whose silver hairs, dignified countenance, and courteous manners excited respect; and whose courage, talents, and honour were worthy of his venerable appearance. His garrison amounted to six thousand fighting men, besides the citizens; and the place, built on a height overhanging the northern bank of the Agueda river, was amply supplied with artillery and stores of all kinds. The works were, however, weak. There were no bomb-proofs, and Herrasti was obliged to place his powder in the church for security. The country immediately about Ciudad Rodrigo, although wooded, was easy for troops, especially on the left bank of the Agueda, to which the garrison had access by a stone bridge within pistol-shot of the castle gate. But the Agueda, itself rising in the Sierra de Francia, and running into the Douro, is subject to great and sudden floods; and six or seven miles below the town, near San Felices, the channel deepens into one continued and frightful chasm, many hundred feet deep, and overhung with huge desolate rocks.

Towards the end of April a French camp was formed upon a lofty ridge five miles eastward of the city; and in a few days a second, and then a third arose. These portentous clouds continued to gather on the hills until June, when fifty thousand fighting men came down into the plain, and, throwing two bridges over the Agueda, begirt the fortress. In the night of the 22nd, Julian Sanchez, with two hundred horsemen, passed silently out of the castle gate, and, crossing the river, fell upon the nearest French posts, pierced their line in a moment, and reached the English light division, then behind the Azava, six miles from Ciudad Rodrigo. We cheerfully received the party, and three days after this feat the batteries opened. The assailants were warmly received. Three of their magazines, by the fire of the besieged, blew up, and killed above a hundred men.

On the 27th MassÉna arrived in the camp, and summoned the governor to surrender. Herrasti answered in the manner to be expected from so good a soldier; and the fire was resumed until the 1st of July, when MassÉna, sensible that the mode of attack was faulty, directed the engineers to raise counter-batteries, to push on their parallels, work regularly forward, blow in the counterscarp, and pass the ditch in form. On the 9th of July the besiegers’ batteries reopened with terrible effect. In twenty-four hours the fire of the Spanish guns was nearly silenced, part of the town was in flames, a reserve magazine exploded on the walls, the counterscarp was blown in by a mine on an extent of thirty-six feet, the ditch filled by ruins, and a broad way made into the place. At this moment three French soldiers, suddenly running out of the ranks, mounted the breach, looked into the town, and having thus in broad daylight proved the state of affairs, discharged their muskets, and with singular success retired unhurt. The columns of assault immediately assembled. The troops, animated by the presence of Ney, were impatient for the signal to advance. A few minutes would have sent them raging into the midst of the city, when the white flag waved on the rampart, and the venerable governor was seen standing alone on the ruins, and signifying by his gestures that he desired to capitulate. The defence made did no discredit to the parties. Every one lent a hand. The inhabitants contributed largely in maintaining the vigour and resolution of the garrison. Women and children, and even the blind, were earnestly engaged in providing necessaries for the fighting men. Those who were unable to bear arms encouraged those who could. Indeed, it was to the spirit of determined resistance prevailing among the people generally within the walls that the powerful force without was so long detained there. Above forty thousand shells had been thrown into the place, and not a house remained uninjured.

One of the favourite designs of Napoleon at this period was to establish his power in Portugal. This the British government was determined, if possible, to prevent; and the person selected to direct the defence of our ancient ally was Lord Wellington. Confidence was felt in no other; and it was a question whether any other military leader was in all respects properly qualified for the arduous undertaking. When his lordship required thirty thousand men for the defence of Portugal, he considered the number that could be fed rather than what was necessary to fight the enemy. On this principle he asserted that success must depend on the exertions and devotedness of the native forces. Two points were to be secured at the very onset. One was, to concert measures by which sustenance might be secured for the united British and Portuguese army and the other, to devise plans by which the enemy should be deprived of supplies whenever and wherever he entered the country. In effecting this latter purpose it was demanded (for the exactions of war are necessarily rigorous) that the people should destroy their mills, remove their boats, break down their bridges, lay waste their fields, abandon their dwellings, and carry off their property, on whatever line the invader should penetrate; while the entire population, converted into soldiers, and closing on the rear and flanks, should cut off all resources, excepting those carried in the midst of the troops. These were hard sayings; but they were dictated by stern necessity, and were positively required for the safety of the kingdom. The call was obeyed. Part of the public property was sacrificed in order that the whole might, in some form or other, eventually be restored and rendered safe.

In pursuance of the comprehensive plans adopted by the British leader, it was necessary to find a position covering Lisbon, where the allied forces could neither be turned by the flanks, nor forced in front by numbers, nor reduced by famine. The mountains filling the tongue of land upon which Lisbon is situated furnished this keystone to the arch of defence. Lord Wellington then conceived the design of turning these vast mountains into one stupendous and impregnable citadel, on which to deposit the independence of the whole peninsula. The works were forthwith commenced. Intrenchments, inundations, and redoubts covered more than five hundred square miles of mountainous country, lying between the Tagus and the ocean. The actual force under Lord Wellington cannot be estimated higher than eighty thousand men, while the frontier he had to defend, reckoning from Braganza to Ayamonte, was four hundred miles long. The British forces included in the above were under thirty thousand. Every probable movement of the enemy was previously considered; at the same time the English commander was aware how many counter-combinations were to be expected in a contest with eighty thousand French veterans, having a competent general at their head. Hence, to secure embarkation in the event of disaster, a third line of entrenchments was prepared, and twenty-four thousand tons of shipping were constantly kept in the river to receive the British forces.

Where all behaved so well, distinctions are unnecessary, and may appear invidious. Perhaps, however, I may be allowed to claim at least an equal share of the honours of a successful campaign for the division of the British army under the command of General Crauford, in which was included the 43rd regiment. Without attempting to institute any comparison between him and the commander-in-chief, the comprehensiveness and strength of whose capacity in the direction of extensive movements was unrivalled, it may be safely averred, that for zeal, intrepidity of spirit, and personal prowess Crauford was not inferior to any general of division in the forces. His men partook in a great measure of the qualities of their leader. Inured to almost every species of warlike toil, they were formidable either for assault or defence; and never were the energies of fighting men more thoroughly tested than those of this very corps in the course of the few succeeding months.

In the midst of March, Crauford lined the banks of the Agueda with his hussars for a distance of twenty-five miles, following the course of the river. The infantry were disposed in small parties in the villages between Almeida and the lower Agueda. Two battalions of Portuguese cacadores (riflemen) soon afterwards arriving, made a total of four thousand men and six guns. While, therefore, the hussars kept a good watch at the two distant bridges, the troops could always concentrate under Almeida before the enemy could reach them on that side; and on the side of Barba del Puerco the ravine was so profound that a few companies of the 95th were considered capable of opposing any numbers. This arrangement was suitable while the Agueda was swollen; but that river was capricious, often falling many feet in a night without visible cause. When it was fordable, Crauford always withdrew his outposts, and concentrated his division; and his situation demanded a quickness and intelligence in his troops, the like of which has never been surpassed. Seven minutes sufficed for the division to get under arms in the middle of the night; and a quarter of an hour, night or day, to bring it in order of battle to the alarm-posts, with the baggage loaded and assembled at a convenient distance in the rear, and this not upon a concerted signal or as a trial, but at all times, and to a certainty.

Our condition at that season was no unapt epitome of what the Christian ought to be. With a foe so vigilant as his spiritual adversary, the godly man should be all eye and ear, ready to gather himself up for action every moment, both by night and day; not by way of experiment and trial, but as matter of constant and universal practice. The waters of carnal security are sadly deceptive; the enemy may find some fordable spot when least expected. If the heaven-bound pilgrim cast behind his worldly load, and place it in the rear, as we did our baggage, he would find himself so much the more free to give and take manfully. This is a digression; but men have souls to save though they wear red coats, and an occasional halt to look at eternal things through the vista of temporalities may not, after all, produce much loss of time.

But to return. We soon found that our caution was called for. On the 19th of March General Ferey, a bold officer, attempted to surprise us, for which purpose he collected six hundred Grenadiers close to the bridge of San Felices, and just as the moon rising behind him cast long shadows from the rocks, and rendered the bottom of the chasm dark, he silently passed the bridge, and, with incredible speed ascending the opposite side, bayoneted the sentries, and fell upon the piquet so fiercely that friends and enemies went fighting into the village of Barba del Puerco, while the first shout was still echoing in the gulf below. So sudden was the attack, and so great the confusion, that the British companies could not form, but each soldier encountering the nearest enemy, fought hand to hand; and their colonel, Sydney Beckwith, conspicuous by his lofty stature and daring actions, a man capable of rallying a whole army in flight, urged the contest with such vigour, that in a quarter of an hour the French column was borne back, and pushed over the edge of the descent. Soon after this the whole army was distressed for money; and Crauford, notwithstanding his prodigious activity, being unable to procure food for the division, gave the reins to his fiery temper, and seized some church plate, with a view to the purchase of corn. For this impolitic act he was immediately rebuked, and such redress granted that no mischief ensued. The proceeding itself was not, however, altogether useless, as it convinced the priests that our distress was real.

Nothing could be more critical than our position. From the Agueda to the Coa the whole country, although studded with woods and scooped into hollows, was free for cavalry and artillery, and there were at least six thousand horsemen and fifty guns within an hour’s march of our position; and yet, trusting to his own admirable arrangements, and to the surprising discipline of his troops, Crauford still maintained his dangerous position, thus encouraging the garrison of Ciudad Rodrigo, and protecting the villages in the plain. The fall of that fortress was, however, soon announced. A Spaniard, eluding the French posts, brought a note from old Herrasti, the governor, claiming assistance. It contained these words: ‘O ven luÉgo! luÉgo! Á socorrer esta plaza,’ (O come now, now, to the succour of this place!) But the gallant old man could not be relieved.

Soon after this I had the misfortune to fall into bad hands. Having had occasion to visit a neighbouring village on regimental business, and to make some small purchases for one of the officers, I was detained rather late in the evening, and on attempting on my return to cross a mountainous district without a guide, I lost my way. After wandering in various directions among rocks and low brushwood, two large dogs, singularly fierce and powerful, used by the Spaniards to protect their cattle from wolves, suddenly appeared in the attitude of springing at me. Putting on a bold front, I stepped back, and drew my bayonet, when, to my surprise, they seemed to dislike my appearance, and recoiled. Concluding that some human abode was nigh, I followed the track of the dogs, and presently arrived at an open space, where a few glowing embers indicated that a fire had recently been there. While gazing on the spot my attention was arrested by a rushing noise quite close to my ear, and in almost the same instant, three men darted through an adjoining copse, and were on me with incredible violence. One of them, who was armed with a halbert, made a desperate plunge with his formidable weapon; and had I not parried it, that moment would have ended my life. The others joined in this unmanly and unaccountable attack; but though roughly used, I escaped without mortal injury. I at first imagined that the fellows were part of a banditti, living by rapine and plunder, and that, disappointed of booty, they had wreaked their resentment by violent usage. I found afterwards that they were cattle owners; and what aggravated their conduct, a report was spread through their agency that I had a design upon their property, than which nothing was further from my thought. The outrage being reported to our commander, Major M’Leod, a sergeant with his piquet of men was sent to investigate the truth. On arriving at the place, there they found me, unable to move from the ill treatment I had received. I stated exactly what had taken place, and requested that the men might be secured, and taken to quarters, so that I might confront them before the major. This was acceded to, and being permitted to answer for myself, I produced the proper pass, still in my possession, and soon convinced the board that I had been within the line of duty, was the only injured party, and deserved some compensation for the treatment I had received. This was immediately granted; so that with the exception of a few bruises, which grew better under the agreeable remedy just glanced at, I came off with flying colours, while the dons paid for the entertainment.

At the beginning of July, the enemy began to appear in numbers; but, obstinate in maintaining every inch of ground, our division remained firm. The troops were marched in succession slowly, and within sight of the French, hoping that they would imagine the whole British army was come up. By this manoeuvre two days were gained, but on the 4th a strong body of the enemy assembled at Marialva; and a squadron of horse, crossing the ford below that bridge, pushed at full force towards Gallegos, driving back the piquets. The enemy then passed the river, and the British retired, skirmishing upon Almeida, leaving two guns, a troop of British and one of German Hussars, to cover the movement. This rearguard drew up on a hill, half cannon-shot from a streamlet with marshy banks, which crossed the road to Almeida. In a few moments a column of French horsemen was observed coming on at a charging pace, diminishing its front as it approached the bridge, but resolute to pass, and preserving the most perfect order in spite of some well-directed shots from the guns. Captain Krauchenberg, of the Hussars, proposed to charge: the English officer did not conceive his order warranted it; but the gallant captain rode full speed against the head of the advanced column with his single troop, and with such a shock that he killed the leading officer, overthrew the front ranks, and drove the whole back.

This skirmish was followed by another on the 11th. On this occasion two French parties were observed, the one of infantry near Villa de Puerco, the other of cavalry at Barquillo. An open country on the right would have enabled the six squadrons to get between the infantry in Villa de Puerco and their point of retreat; this was circuitous, and Crauford preferred pushing straight through a stone enclosure as the shortest road. The enclosure proved difficult, the squadrons were separated, and the French, two hundred strong, had time to draw up in a square on a rather steep rise of land; yet so far from the edge as not to be seen till the ascent was gained. The two squadrons which first arrived galloped in upon them; and the charge was rough and pushed home, but failed. The troopers received the fire of the square in front and on both sides, and in passing saw and heard the French captain, Gauche, and his sergeant-major, exhorting the men to shoot carefully. Meanwhile Colonel Talbot, mounting the hill with four squadrons of the 14th Dragoons, bore gallantly in upon Captain Gauche; but the latter again opened such a fire that Talbot himself and fourteen men went down close to the bayonets, and the stout Frenchman made good his retreat. Crauford fell back to Almeida, apparently disposed to cross the Coa; yet nothing was further from his thoughts. Braving the whole French army, he had kept, with a weak division, for three months within two hours’ march of sixty thousand men, appropriating the resources of the plains entirely to himself. Had he been satisfied with this feat, it would have shown him to be master of some prudence; but forgetting that his stay beyond the Coa was a matter of sufferance rather than real strength, he resolved, with ambition not easily excusable, in defiance of reason and the repeated order of his general, to fight again on the right bank,—a piece of rashness for which we dearly paid.

Upon a calm review of the circumstances under which this engagement took place, I consider it little short of a miracle that a single British soldier survived to describe it. The troops we had to oppose were those of a well-disciplined army, they were commanded by officers of approved talent and courage, and outnumbered us at least in the proportion of four to one. Nor, mingled as I was among the most furious combatants, can I conceive how it happened that I escaped unhurt; to be sure, this is talking as if God and His providence were banished from the earth. Danger and death were undoubtedly averted by the unperceived but almighty agency of the Divine protection; that delivered my soul from perdition, my eyes from tears, and my feet from falling, in order that in future my days, so singularly lengthened, should be devoted to His service. He gave His angels charge concerning me: such, at least, is my conviction. Millions of spiritual creatures walk the earth, both when we wake and when we sleep: these are all ministering spirits, sent forth to minister to those who are the heirs of salvation; and as I humbly raise my claim for a share therein, why should it be thought a thing incredible that the Almighty was my special defence,

On the evening of the 24th of July, which was stormy, a most dangerous crisis arrived, and it proved to be a memorable period. Our whole force under arms consisted of four thousand infantry, eleven hundred cavalry, and six guns; and the position occupied was about one mile and a half in length, extending in an oblique line towards the Coa. The cavalry piquets were upon the plain in front, the right on some broken ground, and the left resting on an unfinished tower eight hundred yards from Almeida; the rear was on the edge of the ravine forming the channel of the Coa, and the bridge was more than a mile distant in the bottom of the chasm. The lightning towards midnight became unusually vivid. Having been under arms for several hours, we were drenched with rain. As the day dawned a few pistol-shots in front, followed by an order for the cavalry reserve and the guns to advance, gave notice of the enemy’s approach; and as the morning cleared, twenty-four thousand French infantry, five thousand cavalry, and thirty pieces of artillery were observed marching from Turones. Our line was immediately contracted, and brought under the edge of the ravine. In an instant four thousand hostile cavalry swept the plain, and our regiment was unaccountably placed within an enclosure of solid masonry at least ten feet high, situate on the left of the road, with but one narrow outlet about half musket-shot down the ravine.

While thus shut up the firing in front redoubled, the cavalry, the artillery, and the cacadores successively passed by in retreat, and the sharp clang of the 95th Rifles was heard along the edge of the plain above. A few moments later and we should have been surrounded; but here, as in every other part of the field, the quickness and knowledge of the battalion officer remedied the faults of the general. In little more than a minute, by united effort, we contrived to loosen some large stones, when, by a powerful exertion, we burst the enclosure, and the regiment, reformed in column of companies, was the next instant up with the riflemen. There was no room to array the line, no time for anything but battle; every captain carried off his company as an independent body, the whole presenting a mass of skirmishers, acting in small parties and under no regular command, yet each confident in the courage and discipline of those on his right and left, and all regulating their movements by a common discretion. Having the advantage of ground and number, the enemy broke over the edge of the ravine; their guns, ranged along the summit, played hotly with grape; and their hussars, galloping over the glacis of Almeida, poured down the road, sabreing everything in their way. The British regiments, however, extricated themselves from their perilous situation. Falling back slowly, and yet stopping and fighting whenever opportunity offered, they made their way through a rugged country, tangled with vineyards, in despite of the enemy, who was so fierce and eager, that even the horsemen rode in among the enclosures striking at us, as we mounted the walls or scrambled over the rocks. Just then, I found myself within pistol-shot of the enemy, while my passage was checked by a deep chasm or ravine. As not a moment was to be lost, I contrived to mount to the edge, and, having gained the opposite side, put myself in a crouching position, and managed to slide down the steep and slippery descent without injury.

On approaching the river, a more open space presented itself; but the left wing being harder pressed, and having the shortest distance, the bridge was so crowded as to be impassable. Here therefore we made a stand. The post was maintained until the enemy, gathering in great numbers, made a second burst, when the companies fell back. At this moment the right wing of the 52nd was seen marching towards the bridge, which was still crowded with the passing troops, when M’Leod, a very young man, immediately turned his horse round, called to the troops to follow, and, taking off his cap, rode with a shout towards the enemy. The suddenness of the thing, and the distinguished action of the man, produced the effect he designed. We all rushed after him, cheering and charging as if a whole army were behind to sustain us; the enemy’s skirmishers, amazed at this unexpected movement, were directly checked. The conflict was tremendous. Thrice we repulsed the enemy at the point of the bayonet. M’Leod was in the hottest of the battle, and a ball passed through the collar of his coat; still he was to be seen with a pistol in his right hand, among the last to retire. At length the bugle sounded for retreat. Just then, my left-hand man, one of the stoutest in the regiment, was hit by a musket-shot; he threw his head back, and was instantly dead. I fired at the fellow who shot my comrade; and before I could re-load, my pay-sergeant, Thomas, received a ball in the thigh, and earnestly implored me to carry him away. As the enemy was not far off, such a load was by no means desirable; but he was my friend. I therefore took him up; and though several shots were directed to us, they all missed, and I was able, though encumbered with such weight, to carry him safely over the bridge. At length the assistance of another soldier was procured. We then carried the wounded man between us, and placed him on a car, when he returned me sincere thanks.

As the regiments passed the bridge, they planted themselves in loose order on the side of the mountain; the artillery drew up on the summit, and the cavalry were disposed in parties on the roads to the right, because two miles higher up the stream there were fords, and beyond them the bridge of Castello Bom. The French skirmishers, swarming on the right bank, opened a biting fire, which was returned as bitterly; the artillery on both sides played across the ravine, the sounds were repeated by numberless echoes, and the smoke, rising slowly, resolved itself into an immense arch, sparkling with the whirling phases of the flying shells. The enemy despatched a dragoon to try the depth of the stream above; but two shots from the 52nd killed man and horse, and the carcases floating down the river discovered that it was impassable. The monotonous tones of a French drum were then heard, and in another second the head of a column was at the long, narrow bridge. A drummer and an officer in splendid uniform leaped forward together, and the whole rushed on with loud cries. The depth of the ravine at first deceived the soldiers’ aim on our side, and two-thirds of the passage were won before an English shot had brought down an enemy. A few paces onward the line of death was traced, and the whole of the leading French section fell as one man. Still the gallant column pressed forward, but no foot could pass that terrible line. The killed and wounded rolled together, until the heap rose nearly to a level with the parapet. Our shouts now rose loudly, but they were confidently answered; and in half an hour a second column, more numerous than the first, again crowded the bridge. This time the range was better judged, and ere half the distance was passed, the multitude was again torn, shattered, dispersed, and slain. Ten or twelve men only succeeded in crossing, and took shelter under the rocks at the brink of the river. The skirmishing was renewed, and a French surgeon, coming down to the very foot of the bridge, waved his handkerchief, and commenced dressing the wounded under the hottest fire. The appeal was heard; every musket turned from him, although his still undaunted countrymen were preparing for a third attempt. This last effort was comparatively feeble, and soon failed. The combat was nevertheless continued by the French, as a point of honour to cover the escape of those who had passed the bridge, and by the English from ignorance of their object. One of the enemy’s guns was dismantled, a powder magazine blew up, and many continued to fall on both sides till four o’clock, when a heavy rain caused a momentary cessation of fire. The men among the rocks returned unmolested to their own party, the fight ceased, and we retired behind the Pinkel river. On our side upwards of three hundred were killed or wounded. The French lost more than a thousand men.

During the march that ensued, which of necessity was rapid, my mind was deeply impressed with the occurrences of the preceding eventful day. Many of my valued friends were missing, and their remains lay unburied on the spot where they fell. Colonel Hull, who had joined the regiment only the day before the action, was killed; and I afterwards saw his body, with the face downwards, thrown across the back of a mule, for conveyance to some place of interment. The colonel’s nephew was also badly wounded in the mouth, and obliged to return to England. Despondency is not, however, the fitting mood for a soldier. Tears for the dead were soon brushed away, and, to secure our own preservation, thought was soon diverted from musing on the past to the active operations before us. Unremitted exertions were made by the commissariat to provide us with necessaries. Grapes were plentiful; vegetables also were within reach. Bread in sufficient quantities, with a pipe of wine in front for regimental use, afforded an agreeable prospect; and the evening after the arrival of this welcome reinforcement was spent in a good-humoured review of dangers gone by.