The captain of the company in which I served being in want of a servant, I had the honour of being engaged in that capacity. My place, however, was no sinecure, and often amounted to a rather dangerous distinction. The duties enjoined were heavy, and contributed not a little to increase the severity of general military service. When my master dismounted from his horse, I had to hold the animal, or lead him by the bridle along roads through which it was difficult to drag myself; and the horse, chafed by rough usage and deficient feed, was frequently so restive that my employment was both irksome and laborious. This horse became an eventual favourite. Having been placed for a short time at large, he thought proper to escape, and accordingly scoured away over hill and dale, with the saddle and accoutrements of his master, including a pair of pistols in the holster and change of clothing behind. He was observed by a party of French, who tried to secure him, but, strange to say, he was determined they should not. By a kind of instinct, to me an entire enigma, the horse chose the road in which he apparently knew his old associates were to follow; and when we had crossed the bridge, to my surprise, he was there beforehand, and waiting our arrival. A rare and unpleasant circumstance took place here. The discipline and good order of the 43rd were proverbial. The matter was therefore so much the more vexatious. Being placed for a brief period in the vicinity of a village, the landlady of a Spanish house of entertainment had broached a puncheon of wine, which she retailed at a stipulated price. One of our men, with more wit than wisdom, got behind the cask unperceived by the lady, and having pierced the hinder end with his bayonet, drew away both for himself and friends. In an evil hour the unlucky wight was detected, and next morning was punished in presence of the regiment. That the man did wrong, is clear; but being a good soldier, and of an excellent temper withal, the event excited great regret, and the humiliating spectacle was witnessed with reluctance.

One day a bullock was killed for our use, and afforded a luxurious repast; but we were obliged to make haste about it. Scarcely had we finished a hasty meal, when the advance of the enemy was announced. The men were unwilling to lose even a fragment of viands so scarce; and several were afterwards observed collecting bundles of the long dry grass and making a fire, over which they frizzled pieces of meat, impaled on the end of a ramrod. The hardships we endured in the prosecution of this retreat were increasingly severe. Personal comforts were out of the question. No change of linen could be procured, and as to a pair of stockings, the luxury was not to be thought of. As mine were worn to tatters, I contented myself without a new supply. Snatches of broken slumber were all we could obtain, though, ready to stumble with weariness. The physical energies both of myself and comrades have, since that period, often appeared wonderful, even to myself. Many a time I have marched eight or ten miles on the nourishment afforded by a little water; and even then, with a pipe and good company, we talked away dull care, and were able with three cheers to face about, and with a determined volley warn away the following foe. We were much hurt by exposure to extremes. After the exhaustion arising from a forced march, pursued for hours, during the meridian heat of this burning climate, we lay down to rest for the night; and on the following morning such was the copiousness of the fallen dew, that our blankets appeared as if dipped in water. Rising from the ground in such a condition, it will be easily imagined that our sensations were not of an enviable cast. Even then I thought of my native land; of its rivers and vales, all so peaceful and beauteous, and they arose fairer than ever. And I thought of my mother, who so often had cared and watched for me! But these meditations were dismissed. Had they been long indulged, my heart would have melted within me; and the time was at hand when the sterner faculties were likely to be tried to the uttermost.

A sad disaster happened at this period. Almeida was besieged by MassÉna in person, at the head of a powerful army. The place, though regularly constructed with six bastions, ravelines, an excellent ditch and covered way, was extremely defective. With the exception of some damp casemates in one of the bastions, there was no magazine for the powder. The garrison consisted of about four thousand men. On the 18th of July the trenches were begun, and on the morning of the 26th, the second parallel being commenced, sixty-five pieces of artillery, mounted on ten batteries, threw in their fire. Many houses were soon in flames, and the garrison was unable to extinguish them; the counter fire was, however, briskly maintained, little military damage was sustained, and towards evening the cannonade slackened on both sides; but just after dark, the ground suddenly trembled, the castle burst into a thousand pieces, and gave vent to a column of smoke and fire. Presently the whole town sank into a shapeless mass of ruin. Treason or accident had caused the magazine to explode, and the devastation was incredible. Five hundred persons were struck dead on the instant; only six houses remained standing; and the surviving garrison, aghast at the terrible commotion, disregarded all exhortations to rally. An immediate surrender was the necessary result.

The invasion of Portugal by the French now assumed a most serious aspect. MassÉna’s command extended from the banks of the Tagus to the Bay of Biscay, and the number of his troops exceeded a hundred and ten thousand men. The view was discouraging, and was so felt by the British ministry at home. MassÉna could bring sixty thousand veterans into the field, while the British force was scarcely fifty thousand, more than half of which consisted of untried men. The Sierra Busaco was the place on which Lord Wellington fixed for his position. A succession of ascending ridges lead to this mountain, which is separated from the last by a chasm so profound, that the unassisted eye could hardly distinguish the movement of troops in the bottom. When this formidable position was chosen, some officers expressed their fears that MassÉna would not assail it. ‘But if he do, I shall beat him,’ was the reply of the English leader, who was well assured that the prince would attack. MassÉna was in fact anxious for a battle, and indulged in a vision in which he beheld the allies fly before his face.

On the 22nd of September we fell back exactly a league, and encamped in a pine wood. One night there happened among us an extraordinary panic, for which none of us, either then or since, could assign any reasonable cause. No enemy was near, nor was any alarm given, yet suddenly large bodies of the troops started from sleep, as if seized with a frenzy, and dispersed in every direction; some climbed the trees, they knew not why; nor was there any possibility of allaying this strange terror, until some person called out that the enemy’s cavalry were among them, when the soldiers mechanically fell into something like order, and the illusion instantly vanished. On the 25th the enemy’s cavalry were seen gathering in front, and the heads of the three infantry columns were visible on the tableland above Mortagas, coming on abreast, and at a most impetuous pace; while heavy clouds of dust, rising and loading the atmosphere for miles behind, showed that the whole French army was in full march to attack. The cavalry skirmishers were already exchanging pistol shots, when Lord Wellington, suddenly arriving, ordered the division to retire, and, taking the personal direction, covered the retreat with the 52nd and other troops. Nor was there a moment to lose; the enemy with great rapidity brought up both infantry and guns, and fell on so briskly, that all the skill of the general and the readiness of the rearguard, where I was placed, could scarcely prevent the division from being seriously engaged. Before three o’clock, forty thousand French infantry were in position on the two points, and the sharp musketry of the skirmishers arose from the gloomy chasms beneath. The allies had now taken their stand; and along the whole of their front skirmishers were thrown out on the mountain side, and about fifty pieces of artillery disposed upon the salient points. In the evening, in order to facilitate the approaching attack, the light French troops were observed stealing by twos and threes into the lowest parts of the valley, endeavouring to make their way up the wooded dells and hollows, and to establish themselves unseen close to the piquets of the light division. Some companies of rifle corps and cacadores checked this; but similar attempts made with more or less success at different points of the position seemed to indicate a night attack, and excited all the vigilance of the troops. Had it not been so, none but veterans tired of war could have slept. The weather was calm and fine, and the dark mountain masses rising on either side were crowned with innumerable watch-fires, around which more than a hundred thousand brave men were gathered.

The attack began on the following morning before day-break. Three columns were led by Ney and two by Reynier, the points being about three miles asunder. The resistance was spirited, and six guns played along the slope with grape; but in less than half an hour the French were close upon the summit, so swiftly did they scale the mountain, overthrowing everything that opposed their progress. The leading battalions immediately established themselves upon the higher rocks, and a confused mass wheeled to the right, intending to sweep the summit of the sierra; but at that moment Lord Wellington directed two guns to open with grape upon their flank, while a heavy musketry was poured into their front; and in a little time the 45th and 88th regiments charged so furiously that even fresh men could not have withstood them. The French, quite spent with their previous exertion, opened a straggling fire, and both parties, mingling together, went down the mountain side with mighty clamour and confusion; the dead and dying strewing the way, even to the bottom of the valley. Meanwhile the French who had first gained the summit had reformed their ranks, with the right resting upon a precipice overhanging the reverse side of the sierra; and thus the position was in fact gained, if any reserve had been at hand; but just then General Leith, who saw what had taken place, came on rapidly. Keeping the Royals in reserve, he directed the 38th to turn the right of the French; but the precipice prevented this; and meanwhile Colonel Cameron, informed by a staff officer of the critical state of affairs, formed the 9th regiment in line under a violent fire, and without returning a single shot ran in upon and drove the Grenadiers from the rocks with irresistible bravery and yet with excellent discipline; refraining from pursuit, lest the crest of the position should be again lost, for the mountain was so rugged that it was impossible to judge clearly of the general state of the action.

On that side, however, the victory was secure. Ney’s attack was equally unsuccessful. From the abutment of the mountain on which the light division was placed, the lower parts of the valley could be discerned. The tableland was sufficiently hollow to conceal the 43rd and 52nd regiments, drawn up in a line; and a quarter of a mile behind them, but on higher ground, and close to the convent, a brigade of German infantry appeared to be the only solid line of resistance on this part of the position. In front of the two British regiments, some rocks overhanging the descent furnished natural embrasures, in which the guns of the division were placed, and the whole face of the hill was planted with the skirmishers of the rifle corps and of the two Portuguese cacadore battalions. While it was yet dark, on listening attentively, we heard a straggling musketry in the deep hollows separating the armies; and when the light broke, the three divisions of the 6th corps were observed entering the woods below, and throwing forward a profusion of skirmishers soon afterwards. The French ascended with wonderful cheerfulness, and though the light troops plied them unceasingly with musketry, and the artillery bullets swept through their ranks, the order of advance was never disturbed. Ross’ guns were worked with incredible swiftness, yet their range was contracted every round, and the enemy’s shot came singing up in a sharper key, until the skirmishers, breathless and begrimed with powder, rushed over the edge of the ascent, when the artillery suddenly drew back, and the victorious cries of the French were heard within a few yards of the summit. Crauford, who, standing alone on one of the rocks, had been intently watching the progress of the attack, then turned and in a quick, shrill tone desired the two regiments in reserve to charge. The next moment eighteen hundred British bayonets went over the hill. Our shouts startled the French column; and yet so truly brave were the hostile leaders, that each man of the first section raised his musket, and two officers and ten men fell before them, so unerring was their aim. They could do no more; we were on them with resistless impetuosity. The head of their column was violently overturned, and driven upon the rear; both flanks were lapped over by our wings; and three terrible discharges at five yards’ distance completed the rout. In a few minutes a long line of carcases and broken arms indicated the line of retreat. The main body of the British stood fast, but several companies followed in pursuit down the mountain. Before two o’clock, Crauford having assented to a momentary truce, parties of both armies were mixed amicably together, searching for the wounded men. Towards evening, however, a French company having impudently seized a village within half musket-shot of our division, and refusing to retire, it so incensed Crauford, that, turning twelve guns on the village, he overwhelmed it with bullets for half an hour. A company of the 43rd was then sent down, who cleared the place in a few minutes.

An affecting incident, contrasting strongly with the savage character of the preceding events, added to the interest of the day. A poor orphan Portuguese girl, about seventeen years of age and very handsome, was seen coming down the mountain, and driving an ass loaded with all her property through the midst of the French army. She had abandoned her dwelling in obedience to the proclamation; and now passed over the field of battle with simplicity which told she was unconscious of her perilous situation, and scarcely understanding which were the hostile and which the friendly troops, for no man on either side was so brutal as to molest her. In this Battle of Busaco, the French after astonishing acts of valour, were repulsed. General Graind’orge, and about eight hundred men were slain, besides nearly five thousand wounded; while the loss of the allies did not exceed thirteen hundred. After this trial, MassÉna judged the position of Busaco impregnable, and to turn it by the Mondego impossible, as the allies could pass that river quicker than himself. But a peasant informed him of the road leading from Mortagas to Boyalva, and he resolved to turn Lord Wellington’s left. To cover this movement the skirmishing was renewed with such vigour on the 28th, that many thought a general battle would take place; and yet the disappearance of baggage and the throwing up of intrenchments on the hill covering the roads to Mortagas indicated some other design. It was not till evening, when the enemy’s masses in front being sensibly diminished, and his cavalry descried winding over the distant mountains, that the project became quite apparent.

On the 1st of October our outposts were attacked; but the French, on entering the plain of Coimbra, suffered some loss from a cannonade; and the British cavalry were drawn up in line, but with no serious intention of fighting, and were soon after withdrawn across the Mondego. The light division then marched hastily to gain the defiles of Condeixa, which commences at the end of the bridge. At this juncture all the inhabitants of the place rushed simultaneously out, who had not before quitted the place, each with what could be caught up in the hand, and driving before them a number of animals loaded with sick people or children. At the entrance to the bridge the press was so great that the troops halted for a few moments, just under the prison. The jailer had fled with the keys; the prisoners, crowding to the windows, were endeavouring to tear down the bars with their hands, and even with their teeth; some were shouting in the most frantic manner, while the bitter lamentations of the multitude increased, and the pistol-shots of the cavalry, engaged at the fords below, were distinctly heard. Captain William Campbell burst the prison doors, and released the wretched inmates, while the troops forced their way over the bridge; yet at the other end, the uphill road, passing between high rocks, was so crowded, that no effort, even of the artillery, could make way. At last some of the infantry opened a passage on the right flank, and by great exertions the road was cleared for the guns; but it was not until after dusk that the division reached Condeixa, although the distance was less than eight miles. Hitherto the marches had been easy, the weather fine, and provisions abundant; nevertheless, the usual mischievous disorders of a retreat had shown themselves. In Coimbra, a quantity of harness and intrenching tools lay scattered in the streets; at Leiria, the magazines were plundered by the troops and camp followers; and at Condeixa a magazine of tents, shoes, spirits, and salt meat was destroyed or abandoned to the enemy; and the streets were flowing ankle-deep with wasted rum, while the Portuguese division, only a quarter of a mile distant, could receive only half the usual supply of liquor.

It is with some regret I reflect, that at this period, though exposed to dangers so imminent, I was carried away in some degree with the torrent of prevailing dissipation. Not that during any period of my active service I ever suffered the pleasure of conviviality, so called, to interfere with my duty. I was indeed often astonished to notice the reckless gaiety of my companions in arms, many of whom would crowd around the evening card-table, though aware that by dawn of day they might be engaged in mortal combat. In the midst of examples so contaminating, certain principles of morality, aided perhaps by a little natural gravity, were never totally subverted; and, under the blessing of God, preserved me from the grosser vices. Had I been favoured with an able and enlightened Christian teacher, it is probable, even then, that my mind might have received the light of Gospel truth. Insensible and ungrateful indeed I must have been not to have perceived and felt the mercies of Divine Providence; for during the entire period of my active service, though exposed to perils almost unnumbered, I was, not only preserved alive, but had been exempted from sickness, and therefore able, without a single exception, to maintain my place in the division.

MassÉna resumed his march on the 4th. Leaving his sick and wounded with a slender guard at Coimbra, amounting altogether to four thousand seven hundred men, he resumed his march by Condeixa and Leiria. His hospital was established at the convent of Santa Clara, on the left bank of the river; and all the inhabitants who were unable to reach the lines came down from their hiding-places in the mountains. But scarcely had the prince left the city, when Trant, Miller, and Wilson, with nearly ten thousand militia, closed upon his rear, occupying the sierras on both sides the Mondego, and cutting off all communication with Almeida. The English army retreated; the right by Thomar and Santarem, the centre by Batalha and Rio Mayor, the left by Olobaca and Obidos; and at the same time a native force under Colonel Blunt was thrown into PenichÉ. MassÉna followed in one column, by the way of Rio Mayor; but meanwhile a capital exploit, performed by a partisan officer, convicted the prince of bad generalship, and shook his plan of invasion to the base. Colonel Trant reached Milheada, and, believing that his arrival was unknown at Coimbra, he resolved to attack the French in that city. Having surprised a small post at Fornos, early in the morning of the 7th he sent his cavalry at full gallop through the streets of Coimbra, with orders to pass the bridge and cut off all communications with the French army. Meantime, his infantry penetrated at different points into the principal parts of the town; and the enemy, astounded, made little or no resistance. The convent of St. Clara surrendered at discretion; and thus, on the third day after the Prince of Essling had quitted the Mondego, his depÔts and hospitals, with nearly five thousand prisoners, wounded and unwounded, among which there was a company of the marines of the Imperial Guard, fell into the hands of a small militia force.

But Crauford, who had reached Alemguer on the 9th, was still there at three o’clock on the afternoon of the 10th. The weather being stormy, we were placed under cover, and no indication of marching was given. The cavalry had already filed into the lines; yet no guards were posted, no patrols sent forward, nor any precautions taken against surprise, although the town, situated in a deep ravine, was peculiarly favourable for such an attempt. It was clear to me and others that our officers were uneasy at this posture of affairs; the height in front was anxiously watched, and about four o’clock some French dragoons on the summit were observed. The alarm was given, and the regiments got under arms; but the posts of assembly had been marked on an open space very much exposed, and from whence the road led through an ancient gateway to the top of the mountain behind. The enemy’s numbers increased every moment, and they endeavoured to create a belief that their artillery was come up: this feint was easily seen through, but the general desired the regiments to break, and reform on the other side of the archway, out of gun-range; and immediately all was disorder. The baggage animals were still loading, the streets were crowded with the followers of the division, and the whole in one confused mass rushed or were driven headlong to the archway. Several were crushed, and with worse troops general panic must have ensued; but the greater number of the soldiers, ashamed of the order, stood firm in their ranks until the confusion abated. Nevertheless the mischief was sufficiently great; and the enemy’s infantry, descending the heights, endeavoured, some to turn the town on the left, while others pushed directly through the streets in pursuit; and thus, with our front in disorder and our rear skirmishing, the retreat was commenced. The weather was, however, so boisterous that the firing soon ceased, and a few wounded, with the loss of some baggage, was all the hurt sustained. I was on this occasion on the verge of considerable personal danger. Having been ordered by an officer to procure forage for his horse, I incautiously ventured too near the enemy; and being further tempted by some clusters of fine grapes, accidentally noticed, I remained some little time to discuss them. On a sudden I found that the last column of the British was out of sight, while imperceptibly to myself the advanced horsemen of the French had nearly hemmed me in. Fully aware of my danger, which I felt conscious had been increased by my agreeable but untimely repast, I was aroused to instant exertion, and was happy enough to elude the surrounding scouts and reach my division. Having, however, exceeded my commission, by taking care of myself as well as the horse, and exposed both to extreme jeopardy, I was glad to resign the animal to its owner, and resume my musket and place in the ranks without notice; and had no objection to perceive that my error had been unnoticed both by foes and friends.

The captain of the company in whose service I had engaged myself, like many others, had not much time to spare. When an alarm was given of the enemy’s approach, we were preparing for dinner. Three or four officers messed together; and on that day another or two were expected, by way of a small party. Culinary preparations on a moderate scale were going on, and I had just opened the captain’s trunk, and taken out some table-linen, when, lo! the well-known bugle sounded to arms. Aware that something unexpected had happened, I ran upstairs, and on looking out at a back window I saw the enemy on the brow of a mountain, a column of whom were rapidly descending into the town. Coming down in haste, I found the dinner ready; but there is many a slip between the cup and the lip; and, reaching across the table, which was ready garnished, I swept the whole—utensils, food, and all—into the orifice of a large travelling-bag, and made my way with it into the street. Confusion and disorder are terms too weak to describe the condition of the public thoroughfare. This time, thought I, we shall be surely taken. The captain clamoured for his horse; I was as urgent for a mule to carry the baggage; every minute of delay seemed an hour. At length, by uncommon effort, we cleared the town, and though the roads were bad, reached a small village within the lines before midnight. I was billeted, with several officers, in a gentleman’s house. It was well furnished; but I regret to add, that in a few days most of the moveables were destroyed. The proprietor, it would appear, had a presentiment of approaching injury; for previous to our actual entrance on the premises, he and his family had decamped.

I have already made some allusion to the lines of Torres Vedras, thrown up for the defence of Lisbon by Lord Wellington. These lines consisted of three distinct ranges of defence. The first, extending from Alhandra on the Tagus to the mouth of the Zizandre on the sea-coast, was, following the inflections of the hills, twenty-nine miles long. The second, traced at a distance varying from six to ten miles in rear of the first, stretched from Quintella, on the Tagus, to the mouth of the St. Lorenzo, being twenty-four miles in length. The third, intended to cover a forced embarkation, should it become necessary, extended from Passo d’Arcos, on the Tagus, to the tower of Junquera, on the coast. Here an outer line, constructed on an opening of three thousand yards, enclosed an entrenched camp, designed to cover the embarkation with fewer troops, should the operation be delayed by bad weather; and within this second camp, Fort St. Julian’s, whose high ramparts and deep ditches defied an escalade, was armed and strengthened to enable a rearguard to protect both itself and the army. Of these stupendous lines, the second, whether regarded for its strength or importance, was the principal, and the others only appendages; the one as a final place of refuge, the other as an advanced work to stem the violence of the enemy, and to enable the army to take up its ground on the second line without hurry or pressure. The aim and scope of all the works were to bar those passes, and to strengthen the favourable fighting positions between them, without impeding the movements of the army. The fortifications extended to the space of fifty miles; there were one hundred and fifty forts, and not fewer than six hundred pieces of artillery mounted within them, while the river was protected by gunboats manned with British marines.

MassÉna was astonished at the extent and strength of works, the existence of which had only become known to him five days before he came upon them. He employed several days in examining their nature, and was as much at a loss at the end of his inspection as at the beginning. The heights of Alhandra he judged unattackable; but the valleys of Calandrix and Aruda attracted his attention. There were here frequent skirmishes with the light division to oblige Crauford to show his force; but by making Aruda an advanced post, he rendered it impossible to discover his true position without a serious affair; and in a short time the division, with prodigious labour, secured the position in a manner which was spoken of with admiration. Across the ravine on the left, a loose stone wall, sixteen feet thick and forty feet high, was raised, and across the great valley of Aruda a double line of abattis was drawn; not composed, as is usual, of the limbs of trees, but of full-grown oaks and chestnuts, dug up with all their roots and branches, dragged by main force for several hundred yards, and then reset and crossed, so that no human strength could break through. Breastworks at convenient distances to defend this line of trees were then cast up; and along the summit of the mountain, for the space of nearly three miles, including the salient points, other stone walls, six feet high and four in thickness, with banquettes, were built, so that a good defence might have been made against the attacks of twenty thousand men.

The increased strength of the works in general soon convinced MassÉna that it was impracticable to force the lines without great reinforcements; and towards the end of October the hospitals, stores, and other encumbrances of the French army were removed to Santarem. On the 31st of the month two thousand men forded the Zezere above Punheta, to cover the construction of a bridge; and a remarkable exploit was performed by a sergeant of the 16th Dragoons, named Baxter. This man, having only five troopers, came suddenly upon a piquet of fifty men, who were cooking. The Frenchmen ran to their arms, and killed one of the dragoons; but the rest broke in amongst them so strongly, that Baxter with the assistance of some countrymen made forty-two captives. On the 19th the light division entered the plain between the Rio Mayor and the Tagus, and advanced against the heights by a sedgy marsh. The columns on our side were formed for attack, and the skirmishers of the light division were exchanging shots with the enemy, when it was found that the guns belonging to Pack’s brigade had not arrived; and Lord Wellington, not quite satisfied with the appearance of his adversary’s force after three hours’ demonstrations, ordered the troops to retire to their former ground. It was indeed evident that the French were resolved to maintain their position. Every advantageous spot of ground was fully occupied, the most advanced sentinels boldly returned the fire of the skirmishers, large bodies of reserve were descried, some in arms, others cooking; the strokes of the hatchet and the fall of trees resounded from the woods upon the hills; and the commencement of a triple line of abattis, and the fresh earth of entrenchments, were discernible in many places. Our active light division was, however, again in motion. General Crauford thought that the hostile troops who had shown themselves amounted merely to a rearguard of the enemy. His eager spirit could not bear to be restrained; and seizing a musket, he advanced in the night along the causeway, followed only by a sergeant, and commenced a personal skirmish with the French piquets, from whose fire he escaped by miracle, convinced at last that the enemy were not in flight.

Lord Wellington judged it best to remain on the defensive, and strengthen the lines. With this view the light division, supported by a brigade of cavalry, occupied Valle and the heights overlooking the marsh and inundation; the bridge at the end of the causeway was mined; a sugarloaf shaped hill, looking straight down the approach, was crowned with embrasures for artillery, and laced in front with a zig-zag covered way, capable of containing five hundred infantry. Thus the causeway being blocked, the French could not, while the inundation was maintained, make any sudden irruption from Santarem. About this period a column of French, six thousand strong, scoured all the country beyond the Zezere, and contrived to secrete a quantity of food near Pedragoa, while other detachments arriving on the Mondego, below Coimbra, even passed that river, and carried off four hundred oxen and two thousand sheep intended for the allies. These excursions gave rise to horrible excesses, which broke down the discipline of the French army, and were not always executed with impunity. The British cavalry at various times redeemed many cattle, and brought in a considerable number of prisoners.

Finding the drudgery of servitude, when added to my customary military duty, greater than I could well sustain, I requested permission to resign my situation with the captain; and we parted, mutually satisfied with past acquaintance, and on the fairest terms. While in the vicinity of Santarem, the unarmed French and English soldiers, while procuring wine for the respective forces, were frequently intermingled in the same cellar, when there seemed to exist a tacit understanding that all animosity was suspended. The liquor was, however, sometimes too powerful; and one of our men, who had been a good soldier, after a sad debauch relapsed into a fit of despondency. The inordinate cup was then resorted to, but, as usual, it lifted him up only to throw him into lower depths of misery. He then deserted; and when taken, seized an opportunity of placing the muzzle of a musket to his mouth, and setting his foot upon the trigger, blew his head to atoms.

The French in their retreat from Santarem had either consumed or destroyed every particle of food that came within their reach, so that the country was a spacious desert. During a sharp day’s march in pursuit, a horrible calamity was unexpectedly disclosed. While passing over a desolate mountain, a large house standing alone, and apparently deserted, was discovered near the line of our route. Prompted by curiosity, several men turned aside to inspect the interior, where they found a number of famished wretches crowded together, for no other conceivable purpose but to die in company. Thirty women and children had perished for want of food, and lay dead upon the floor; while about half that number of survivors sat watching the remains of those who had fallen. Of those who thus perished the bodies were not much emaciated, but the muscles of the face were invariably drawn transversely, giving the appearance of a smile, and presenting the most ghastly sight imaginable. Most of the living were unable to move; and it had been by great exertion that they had crawled to a little distance from the group of death. The soldiers offered some refreshment to these unfortunate persons; but one man only had sufficient strength to eat. The women seemed patient and resigned, and even in this distress had arranged the bodies of those who first died with decency and care.

The blockade of Cadiz was now prosecuted with unusual vigour by the French forces. The chain of forts they had built was perfected. The batteries at the Troccaderos were powerful, and the flotillas ready for action. Soult repaired in person to San Lucar; and in the last night of October thirty pinnaces and gunboats slipped out of the Guadalquivir, eluded the allied fleet, passed along the coast to Rota, and from thence, aided by shore-batteries, fought their way to Santa Maria and the San Pedro. The flotilla was afterwards transported over-land; and in the ensuing month one hundred and thirty armed vessels and transports were assembled in the Troccadero Canal. At that celebrated point there were immense batteries and some notable pieces of ordnance, called cannon-mortars, or Villantroys, after the inventor. These huge engines were cast in Seville, and, being placed in slings, threw shells with such prodigious force as to range over Cadiz, a distance of more than five thousand yards; but to obtain this flight, the shells were partly filled with lead, so that the charge of powder was proportionately of less effective explosion. While Cadiz was thus begirt, a furious engagement took place at Cerra de Puerco, called by the English the heights of Barossa, about four miles from the sea-mouth of the Santa Petri. Barossa is a low ridge creeping in from the coast about a mile and a half, and overlooking a high and broken plain of small extent.

Graham, who commanded the British, was extremely desirous of holding the Barossa height, as the key both to offensive and defensive movements. Our Spanish allies on this occasion behaved scandalously; indeed, nothing but the unflinching firmness and courage of the English troops could have saved the army from entire ruin. Major Brown, seeing the general confusion arising from the defeat of the Spaniards, and being unable to stem the torrent, slowly retired into the plain, sending notice of what was passing to Graham, and demanding orders. That general, being then near Bermeja, answered that he was to fight; and instantly facing about himself, regained the plains with the greatest celerity, when, to his surprise, he beheld the Spanish rearguard and baggage flying in confusion, the French cavalry between the summit and the sea, and Laval close on his own left flank. In this desperate situation he felt that to retreat upon Bermeja, and thus bring the enemy pell-mell with the allies on that narrow bridge, must be disastrous; hence, without a moment’s hesitation, he resolved to attack, although the key of the field of battle was already in the enemy’s possession. Ten guns, under Major Duncan, instantly opened a terrific fire against Laval’s column, while Colonel Barnard, with the riflemen and the Portuguese companies, running out to the left, commenced the fight. The remainder of the British troops, without any attention to regiments or brigades, so sudden was the affair, formed two masses, one of which, under General Dilkes, marched hastily against Ruffin, and the other, under Colonel Wheatley, against Laval. Duncan’s guns ravaged the French ranks; Laval’s artillery replied with spirit; Ruffin’s batteries took Wheatley’s columns in flank; and the infantry on both sides pressed forward eagerly and with a pealing musketry; and when near together, a fierce, rapid, prolonged charge of the British overthrew the first line of the French, and, notwithstanding its extreme valour, drove it in confusion over a narrow dip of ground upon the second, which was almost immediately broken in the same manner, and only the chosen battalion, hitherto posted on the right, remained to cover the retreat. Meanwhile Brown, receiving his orders, had marched headlong against Ruffin. Nearly half of his detachment went down under the enemy’s last fire; yet he maintained the fight until Dilkes’ column, which had crossed a deep hollow and never stopped even to reform the regiments, came up, with little order indeed, but in a fierce mood, when the whole ran up towards the summit. There was no slackness on any side, and at the very edge of the ascent their opponents met them. A dreadful and for some time a doubtful fight ensued. Ruffin and Chaudron Rousseau, commanding the chosen Grenadiers, both fell, mortally wounded. The English bore strongly onward; and their incessant, slaughtering fire forced the French from the hill, with the loss of three guns and many brave men. The defeated divisions retired concentrically, and having soon met, they endeavoured with great energy to reform and renew the action; but the fire of Duncan’s guns, close, rapid, and destructive, rendered the attempt vain. Victor was soon in full retreat; and the British, having been twenty-four hours under arms, were too exhausted to pursue. In this brief but desperate fight upwards of twelve hundred British soldiers, and more than two thousand Frenchmen, were killed or wounded; from the latter, six guns, an eagle, and two generals, both mortally wounded, were taken, together with four hundred other prisoners.

The activities of this spirited campaign were maintained in other places. Badajos was sorely pressed by the French. Early in March, the second parallel being completed, and the Pardaleras taken into the works, the approaches were carried by sap to the covered way; mines were also prepared to blow in the counterscarp, and yet Rafael Menacho, the governor, was not dismayed. His sallies were frequent and vigorous; he constructed new entrenchments where necessary; and everything went on prosperously till the evening of the 2nd, when in a sally, in which the nearest French batteries were carried, the guns spiked, and trenches partly ruined, Menacho was killed, and the command fell to Imas, a man so unworthy that a worse could not be found. At once the spirit of the garrison died away, for cowardice is often contagious. The besiegers’ works rapidly advanced, the ditch was passed, a lodgment was made on one of the ravelines, the rampart was breached, and the fire of the besieged being nearly silenced, on the 10th of March the place was summoned in a peremptory manner. Not that there was the least need to surrender. A strong body of British and Portuguese were in full march for the relief of the place. This information had been communicated by telegraph, besides which Imas had been informed by a confidential messenger that MassÉna was in full retreat. The breach was not practicable, provisions were plentiful, the garrison above eight thousand strong, the French army reduced by sickness and the previous operations to fewer than fourteen thousand men. Imas, however, instantly surrendered, but he also demanded that his Grenadiers should march out of the breach. This was granted, and he was obliged to enlarge the opening before they could do so. Yet this man, so overwhelmed with opprobrium, was never punished.

MassÉna continued to retreat; and a skirmish, attended with some loss on both sides, unexpectedly took place at Pombal. The commander just named was so closely followed by our division, that, the streets being still encumbered, Ney drew up a rearguard on a height behind the town, and threw a detachment into the old castle. He had, however, waited too long. The French army was moving in some confusion, and in an extended column of march, by a narrow defile between the mountains and the Soire river, which was fordable, while the British divisions were in rapid motion on the left bank, with the design of crossing lower down, and cutting MassÉna’s line of retreat; but darkness came on, and the operation terminated in a sharp conflict at Pombal, whence the 95th and the 3rd Cacadores drove the French from the castle and town with such vigour, that the latter could not destroy the bridge, though it was mined for the purpose. Daybreak on the 12th saw both armies in movement, and eight miles of march brought the head of the British into a hollow way leading to a high tableland, on which Ney had disposed five thousand infantry, a few squadrons of cavalry, and some light guns. His centre was opposite to the hollow road, his wings were covered by the woody heights which he occupied with light troops. Behind him arose the village of Redhina, situated on low ground, in front of which were posted a division of infantry, a regiment of cavalry, and a battery of heavy guns, all so skilfully disposed as to give the appearance of considerable force.

After examining the enemy’s position for a short time, Lord Wellington first directed the light division to attack the wooded slopes covering Ney’s right; and in less than an hour these orders were executed. The woods were presently cleared, and our skirmishers advanced even to the open plain beyond. Just then, the French battalions, supported by four guns, opened a heavy rolling fire, and at the same moment Colonel FarriÈre, of the 3rd French Hussars, charged and took fourteen prisoners. This officer, during the whole campaign, had never failed to break in upon the skirmishers in the most critical moments, sometimes with a squadron, sometimes with only a few men; he was, however, sure to be found in the right place. The British light division, commanded by Sir William Erskine, consisted of five battalions of infantry and six guns, and was formed so that it outflanked the French right. It was also reinforced with two regiments of dragoons. Meanwhile Picton seized the woody heights protecting the French left, and thus Ney’s position was exposed. Nevertheless, that marshal, observing that Lord Wellington, deceived as to his real numbers, was bringing the mass of the allied troops into line, far from retreating, even charged Picton’s skirmishers, and continued to hold his ground with astonishing confidence. In this posture both sides remained for about an hour, when three shots were fired from the British centre as a signal for a forward movement, and a most splendid spectacle of war was exhibited. The woods seemed alive with troops, and in a few moments thirty thousand men, forming three gorgeous lines of battle, were stretched across the plain, but bending on a gentle curve, and moving majestically forward, while horsemen and guns springing simultaneously onward from the centre and left wing, charged under a volley from the French battalions. The latter were instantly hidden by the smoke; and when that cleared away, no enemy was to be seen. Ney keenly watched the progress of this grand formation, and having opposed Picton’s foremost skirmishers with his left, withdrew the rest of his people with such rapidity that he gained the village before the cavalry could touch him. The utmost efforts of Picton’s skirmishers and of the horse artillery scarcely enabled them to gall the hindmost of the French. One howitzer was, indeed, dismounted close to the bridge, but the village of Redhina was in flames. The marshal was hard pressed, for the British were thundering at his rear, and the light troops of the 3rd division, chasing like heated bloodhounds, passed the river almost at the same time with the French. Ney at length fell back upon the main body at Condeixa.

The mind is sometimes impressed by trifling occurrences, especially when they take place unexpectedly, or are at all out of the common way. I remember that in the midst of the clangor and firing just described, a hare emerged from the woods, and for some time amused herself by sundry doubles and evolutions between the hostile lines; at length, as if satisfied that enough had been seen, she suddenly disappeared. The other event is, that the tallest man I ever saw had been a private in the French ranks at Redhina. He was lying dead on the road side.

Our forces continued to drive the enemy. MassÉna, in repairing to Fonte Coberta, had left orders to fire Condeixa at a certain hour. These gentlemen left nothing willingly behind them, but ruin and desolation. In a few days we came up with the rear. Picton contrived to wind round the bluff side of a mountain about eight miles distant. As he was already beyond the French left, instant confusion pervaded their camp. The British immediately pushed forward; their advance was extremely rapid, and it is affirmed that the Prince of Essling, who was on the road, only escaped capture by taking the feathers out of his hat, and riding through some of the light troops. Condeixa being thus evacuated, the British cavalry pushed towards Coimbra, and cutting off Montbrun, captured part of his horsemen. The rest of the army kindled their fires, and the light division, in which, as usual, I was stationed, planted piquets close up to the enemy; but about ten at night the French divisions, whose presence was unknown to Lord Wellington, stole out, and passing along the front of the British posts, made for Miranda de Corvo. The noise of their march was heard, but the night was dark; it was imagined to be the moving of the French to the rear, and being so reported to Sir William Erskine, that officer put the light division in march at daylight on the 14th. Our movements partook of extraordinary rashness, and, what increased the danger, we were insensible of it. The morning was so obscured that nothing could be distinguished at the distance of a hundred feet, but the sound of a great multitude was heard on the hills in front, and it being evident that the French were there in force, many officers represented the impropriety of thus advancing without orders, and in such a fog. But Erskine, with what is deemed astounding negligence, sent the 52nd forward in a simple column of sections, without a vanguard or other precaution, and even before the piquets had come in from their posts. The road dipped suddenly, descending into a valley, and the regiment was immediately lost in the mist, which was so thick that the troops, unconsciously passing the enemy’s outposts, had nearly captured Ney himself, whose bivouac was close to the piquets. The riflemen followed in a few moments, and the rest of the division was about to plunge into the same gulf, when the rattling of musketry and the booming of round shot was heard, and when the vapour slowly rose, the 52nd were seen on the slopes of the opposite mountain engaged, without support, in the midst of the enemy’s army. At this moment Lord Wellington arrived, and the whole of the light division were pushed forward to sustain the 52nd. The enemy’s ground was so extensive, and his skirmishers so thick and so easily supported, that in a little time the division was necessarily stretched out in one thin thread, and closely engaged in every part without any reserve; nor could it even thus present an equal front, until Picton sent the riflemen of the 60th to prolong the line. The fight was vigorously maintained amidst the numerous stone enclosures on the mountain side; some advantages were gained, and the right of the enemy was partially turned, yet the main position could not be shaken until Picton and Cole had turned it by the left. Ney then commenced his retreat, retiring from ridge to ridge with admirable precision, and for a long time without confusion and with very little loss. Towards the middle of the day, however, the British guns and the skirmishers got within range of his masses, and the retreat became more rapid and less orderly; yet he finally gained the strong pass of Miranda de Corvo, which was secured by the main body of the French. The loss in the light division this day was eleven officers and a hundred and fifty men, and about a hundred prisoners were taken.

On the 15th the weather was so obscure that the allies could not reach the Ceira before four o’clock in the afternoon, and the troops as they came up proceeded to kindle fires for the night. The French right rested on some thick and wooded ground, and their left on the village of Fons d’Aronce; but Lord Wellington, having cast a rapid glance over it, directed the light division, who were seldom forgotten when honour was to be obtained, to hold the right in play, and at the same moment the horse artillery, galloping forward to a rising ground, opened with great and sudden effect. Ney’s left wing, being surprised and overthrown by the first charge, dispersed in a panic, and fled in such confusion towards the river that some, missing the fords, were drowned, and others, crowding on the bridge, were crushed to death. On the right the ground was so rugged and close that the action resolved itself into a skirmish; and thus Ney was able to use some battalions to check the pursuit of his left; but meanwhile darkness came on, and the French troops in their disorder fired upon each other. Only four officers and sixty men fell on the side of the British; the enemy’s loss was not less than five hundred, of which one-half were drowned, and an eagle was afterwards found in the bed of the river when the waters had subsided.

Ney maintained the left bank of the Ceira until every encumbrance bad passed, and then, blowing up seventy feet of the bridge, sent his corps on. Thus terminated the first part of the retreat from Santarem, in which, though the ability of the French commander was conspicuous, it revealed much that savoured of a harsh and ruthless spirit. Almost every horror that could make war hideous attended this dreadful march. Death was dealt out in all modes. Unpitying vengeance seemed to steel every breast. Lives were lost by wounds, by fatigue, by fire, by water, besides the numerous victims of famine. One of my comrades going out at dusk in search of provisions, on turning a corner stumbled over the body of a recently murdered man. The natives were of course excited to retaliate, and Colonel Napier once saw a peasant cheering on his dog to devour the dead and dying; the spirit of cruelty once unchained smote even the brute creation. On the 15th, the French general, in order to diminish the encumbrances on his march, ordered a number of beasts of burden to be destroyed. The inhuman fellow charged with the execution, who, if known, would have long since been hooted from society, ham-stringed five hundred asses, and left them to starve; and thus they were found by the British army. The acute but deep expression of pain visible in these poor creatures’ looks wonderfully aroused the fury of the soldiers; and so little weight has reason with the multitude, when opposed by momentary sensation, that had prisoners been taken at that moment, no quarter most assuredly would have been given.