We advanced to Aranjuez, where we lay for some time. It is a palace of the King of Spain. The whole country is beautiful; fruit was very plenty and of all kinds. We were eight days in the Escurial, and continued to watch the motions of the French alongst the Tagus, skirmishing almost every day. Individuals of the 13th and 14th Light Dragoons used to engage in single combat with the horsemen of the enemy. Often whole squadrons would be brought to engage by two men beginning. We remained thus skirmishing till Lord Wellington raised the siege of Burgos, when we fell back to the Iacamah on the beginning of November, then on Alba Tormes, where we skirmished two days and two nights. A part of us here were lining a wall, the French in great strength in front. One of our lads let his hat fall over when taking cartridges from it, laid his musket against the wall, went over to the enemy’s side, and came back again unhurt. At this very time the button of my stock was shot off.
The short time we remained at Tormes we were very ill off for provisions. One of our men, Thomas Cadwell, found a piece of meat near the hospital on the face of the brae: he brought it home and cooked it. A good part of it was eaten before one of the men, perceiving him, said, “What is that you are eating?” Tom said it was meat he had found. The others looked and knew it to be the fore arm of a man; the hand was not at it—it was only the part from a little below the elbow and above the wrist. The man threw it away, but never looked squeamish; he said it was very sweet, and was never a bit the worse.
The French left strong picquets in front, stole down the river, and crossed, hoping to surprise us and come upon our rear. We immediately blew up the bridge and retired. Many of our men had to ford the river. We left a Spanish garrison in the fort and retired to the heights. There was a mill on the river side near the bridge, wherein a number of our men were helping themselves to flour during the time the others were fording. Our Colonel rode down and forced them out, throwing a handful of flour on each man as he passed out of the mill. When we were drawn up on the height, he rode along the column, looking for the millers, as we called them. At this moment a hen put her head out of his coat-pocket, and looked first to one side and then to another. We began to laugh; we could not restrain ourselves. He looked amazed and furious at us, then around. At length the Major rode up to him, and requested him to kill the fowl outright, and put it into his pocket. The Colonel, in his turn, laughed, called his servant, and the millers were no more looked after.
We moved along the heights for two or three miles towards the main body of the army, and lay down in column for a few minutes, until Lord Wellington came up and reconnoitred the movements of the enemy, when we immediately got orders to follow the line of march. We continued to follow for some time, until we came to a place covered over with old ammunition barrels and the wrecks of an army. This was the ground the battle of Salamanca had been fought on. We got not a moment to reflect. The word was given, “Fix bayonets, throw off all lumber;” and we were moved up the hill at double quick time. We pushed up as hard as possible, reached the top almost out of breath, and met the enemy right in front. They were not twenty paces from us. We gave them a volley. Two companies of the German Legion were sent to keep them in play whilst the lines were forming. Two brigades came up at double quick time. We formed in three lines, and forced them to retire. They lost in their flight a great number of men by the fire of our cannon. After dark we withdrew our lines and encamped in a wood. We were in great want of necessaries, having very little bread or beef amongst us, and no water. I set off in quest of some, slung round with canteens belonging to the mess. After searching about for a long time, faint and weary, I was going to give up in despair, and sat down to reflect what I should do. Numbers were moving around looking anxiously for water of any kind—quality was of no moment. I thought I heard a bustle on my right. I leaped up, ran towards it; I heard voices and the croaking of frogs. Tempting sound! I stopped not to reflect. As I drew near, the sound became more distinct; I heard the welcome words, “Water, water.” In I ran, up to the knees amongst mules and men, and putting down my head, drank a sweet draught of it, dirty as it was; then filled my canteens and came off quite happy. The croaking of the frogs was pleasanter music at that time and more welcome than any other sound. When I came to the camp ground I was welcomed with joy. We got our allowance of liquor, and mixed it with the water, then lay down and slept till an hour before day, when we moved on to our old position on the hills. The French lay in column close by Salamanca. We remained there till Lord Wellington perceived the French were endeavouring to get into our rear, to cut off our communications, they being very superior in force. The army received orders to draw up in column and move off in brigades, each brigade in succession; leaving the 71st for the rear guard. I, at this time, got a post, being for fatigue, with other four. We were sent to break biscuit, and make a mess for Lord Wellington’s hounds. I was very hungry, and thought it a good job at the time, as we got our own fill while we broke the biscuit, a thing I had not got for some days. When thus engaged, the prodigal son never once was out of my mind; and I sighed, as I fed the dogs, over my humble situation and ruined hopes. As we followed the army, Colonel Cadogan made us halt in a plain upon ploughed land, where he began to drill us. We were wet and weary, and like to faint with hunger. The ground was so soft from the rain, we could scarce keep the step. The French were coming down from the heights. “Now,” says he, “there they are; if you are not quicker in your movements, I will leave you every one to them.” At this moment General Hill’s aid-de-camp rode up, saying, “Move on and cover the brigade of artillery, by the General’s order, or you will be all prisoners in five minutes.” We immediately left off drill, and marched on until dark, under a heavy rain and over miserable roads, one shoe in our hand, the other on our knapsack. As we entered a wood we were agreeably annoyed by the grunting of hogs and squeaking of pigs. “There is a town here,” says my comrade. We all longed for “pile arms.” At length the word was given, and cooks ordered to cut wood. More cooks than one turned out of each mess, and went in different directions in search of forage. All this time the whole wood resounded with the reports of muskets. It resembled a wood contested by the enemy. At length our cooks returned, one with a pig, another with a skin of wine, or with flour, and we made a hearty supper, and lay down happy and contented. Next morning we continued the line of march under a heavy rain; the horses were scarce able to drag the cannon through the mud. We marched thus, about eight miles, and halted at a village, where we encamped and cooked the remains of our pork. Every one was engaged cooking or cutting wood, when the French made their appearance on the opposite heights. The bugle sounded to fall in; immediately we formed square to receive cavalry. They galloped down close to our square. We had not time to load our pieces; and many of us were only half accoutred, they had come so quick upon us. Many of them were very much in liquor: three or four galloped into the centre of our square; we opened to receive them. A brigade of guns coming to our relief, they put to the right about and fled. We stood under arms for some time. A brigade of French infantry was drawn up on the opposite heights. It being only their advanced guard, Lord Wellington gave orders to pile arms, but to remain accoutred. We stood in this position, the rain pouring upon us, until we were forced to lie down through fatigue. Day at length appearing, we got orders to move on after the army in sections, the enemy having retired through the night. We had not moved thus two miles, until the French advance came down upon us, picking up every individual who fell out. The cries of the women and children were dreadful as we left them. We were retiring in square, playing a howitzer from the centre, to keep their cavalry in check. We continued to move on in this manner, sending out the left company to fire and retire. The rain poured; the roads were knee-deep; when one had to stop all were obliged to stop. Each of the enemy’s cavalry had a foot soldier behind him, who formed when they came close. When we were halted, and advanced to charge, they mounted and retired. At length we forded the Agueda, and encamped on the opposite side. Rear-guards and quarter-guards were immediately sent out, and picquets planted. We were not an hour and a half encamped, when a dreadful firing commenced on our left. We were all under arms in a moment. The firing continued very severe for the space of two hours. We then piled arms, and began to cut wood to lay under us, that the water might run below, as the rain continued to pour in torrents. We might as well have lain in the river. We were up an hour before day, and wrung out our blankets, emptied our shoes of the water, each man trembling like the leaf of a tree. We followed the line of march for about four leagues, and encamped in a plain, expecting to be attacked every moment. The French did not advance this night. Next night we were marched into a town. Serjeants were called out for quarters; and we were put in by sections into the best quarters they could find. This town we called the reeky town; it was the most smoky place I ever was in. The serjeants got two months’ pay for each man; every one had a little. Canteens were immediately in requisition; wine and accadent were the only words you could hear. Three dollars for wine, and one for accadent, made a joyful night and a merry mess. We had no care; the song went round: we were as merry as if we had not suffered in our retreat. The recollection of our wants made our present enjoyments doubly dear. Next morning we did the best we could to clean ourselves, but we made a very shabby figure. Our haversacks were black with grease: we could not get the marks of the pork out, all we could do. Here we remained eight days, then marched to Porto Banyes, where we received a draught of 150 men from England, and staid about eight days, then marched to Monte Moso. We got here a new kitt. Before this we were completely in rags; and it used to be our daily labour to pick the vermin off ourselves. We were quartered in the villages until Colonel Cadogan arrived from England, who inspected and reviewed us in our new clothes. We looked very well. The Colonel told us “we were as fat as fowls.”
During the time the 50th were in Boho, the French made an attempt to surprise it. We were marched up to it at double quick time. We ran up hill for four miles, and were formed in the town, and marched up to the walls, making as great a show as possible. The French stood in column on the opposite side of the town. We had picquets of the 50th posted on the outside. Boho being a town of great trade, the French hoped to get a supply of clothing; but finding they could not succeed they retired, and we went back to our old cantonments. In a few days we relieved the 50th, and marched into Boho; at which place we remained all winter, and until the month of May 1813, when the campaign commenced. I got a most excellent billet; everything was in plenty; fruit in abundance. I was regarded as a son of the family; partook with them at meals; and, if any thing was better than another, my part was in it. I amused myself, when off duty, in teaching the children to read; for which my hosts thought they never could be grateful enough. I have often thought the Spaniards resembled the Scots in their manner of treating their children. How has my heart warmed, when I have seen the father, with his wife by his side, and the children round them, repeating the Lord’s prayer and the 23d Psalm, at evening before they went to bed! Once a week the children were catechised. When I told them they did the same in Scotland, they looked at me with astonishment, and asked “If heretics did so?” The priests often drew comparisons much to our disadvantage from the conduct of our men. They even said every heretic in England was as bad as them.
One afternoon I had walked into the churchyard, and after having wandered through it, I lay down in the shade of the wall, near a grave that appeared to have been lately made. While lying thus, I heard a sob: I looked towards the place whence it came, and perceived a beautiful female kneeling beside a grave, devoutly counting her rosary—her tears falling fast upon the ground. I lay, afraid to move, least the noise might disturb her. She remained for some time, absorbed in devotion; then rose from her knees, and, taking a small jar of holy water, sprinkled the grave, and retired undisturbed by me. I mentioned the circumstance to no one, but, day after day, I was an unperceived witness of this scene. At length she saw me as she approached, and was retiring in haste. I came near her. She stood to let me pass. I said, “My presence shall give you no uneasiness: Adieu!” “Stay,” she said, “are you Don Galves’ good soldier?” I replied, “I live with him.” “Stay, you can feel for me: I have none to feel for, nor advise me. Blessed Virgin, be my friend!” She looked to heaven; her eyes beaming resignation and hope, the tears dropping on her bosom. I stretched out my hand to her: my eyes, I believe, were wet. I did not speak. “None,” she said mournfully, “can again have my hand: I gave it to Francisco.” “‘Tis the hand of friendship.” “I can have no friend but death.—You do not pray for the dead; you cannot pray with me.” I said, “I will listen to your’s.” She then began her usual prayers; then rose and sprinkled the grave with holy water, I inquired, “Whose grave do you water?” “My mother’s.” “How long has she been dead?” “Five years.” “Five years! have you done thus so long?” “Alas, no! my mother had been released[8]; but five weeks ago my mournful task again began; ’tis for Francisco: Adieu.” She sobbed and retired with a hurried step. I dare not embellish, lest this incident should not be credited; but I feel this is a cold account of what passed. I have not taken away, neither have I added a word that did not pass between us. From Galves I learned that Francisco had fallen in a Guerilla party. It is the belief in Spain, that every drop of holy water sprinkled upon the grave, quenches a flame in purgatory.
We had passed the winter in the most agreeable manner: we lived well. The inhabitants were on good terms with us: we had every thing in abundance; and amusements were not wanting. We had bull fights, at which we used to exhibit our powers. Several of our men were hurt. Our horsemen were particularly good bull fighters; and the women used to give them great praise. Often we had dancings in the evening: sometimes we got two or three of our band; and then we had dancing in style. Wine and mirth we never wanted: Music was our great want. The peasants used to dance to the sound of their rattles, consisting of two pieces of hard wood, which they held between their fingers, and by shaking their hands, kept time in the same manner as the boys, in Edinburgh and other parts, play what they call, “cockledum ditt.” They call them castanetts. They have one dance which I never saw in any other place: they call it fandango. I can hardly say it is a dance, for it is scarcely decent. The dancers first run to each other, as if they are looking for one another; then the woman runs away, the man follows: next he runs, and she follows. This they do alternately; all the time using the most expressive gestures, until both seem overcome; when they retire, and another couple take their place. This dance had a great effect upon us; but the Spaniards saw it without being moved, and laughed at the quick breathing and amorous looks of our men.
The winter in Boho was the shortest I ever passed in Spain; yet we remained in that town until May 1813. The only disagreeable thing was, that the wolves, which were very numerous, used to visit us at our advanced posts, when on duty through the night. One night, while on duty at the bridge, I thought I was to have fallen a prey to a very large wolf. My orders were, to be on the alert, and if I heard the least sound, to place my ear upon the ground, to distinguish if it were the tread of men or of horses, and give the alarm. The night was starry, and a little cloudy, when, about half past one o’clock, I could distinguish the tread of an animal. I believed it to be a stray mule, or ass; but at length could distinguish a large wolf, a few yards from the bridge, in the middle of the road, looking full upon me. I levelled my piece, and stood, my eyes fixed on his: I durst not fire, lest I should miss him, and give a false alarm. I expected him every moment to spring upon me. We stood thus looking upon each other, until the tread of the serjeant and guard to relieve me were heard, then the beast scampered off, and relieved me from my disagreeable situation.
May came at length, and we were obliged to leave our kind hosts. I never before felt regret at quitting a town in Spain. That morning we marched, the town was deserted by its inhabitants, who accompanied us a good way; girls weeping and running into the ranks to be protected from their parents, and hanging upon their old acquaintances; parents tearing away and scolding their children; soldiers and inhabitants singing or exchanging adieus. Almost every man had his handkerchief on the muzzle of his firelock. Don Galves’ children, weeping, took leave of me. I never saw them again. May God bless them! At length we were left to reflect upon our absent friends, and commence the toils of war afresh. We lay in camp until the whole army joined; then were reviewed by Lord Wellington, and received orders to take the line of march, and follow the enemy. We marched over a great part of Spain, quite across the country; many parts of which were very beautiful, more particularly that before we crossed the Ebro. But we were so harassed by fatigue, in our long marches, that we never left the camp; and were too weary to pay much attention to any thing that did not relieve our wants. We continued to advance until the 20th of June, when, reaching the neighbourhood of Vittoria, we encamped upon the face of a hill. Provisions were very scarce. We had not a bit of tobacco, and were smoking leaves and herbs. Colonel Cadogan rode away and got us half a pound of tobacco a man, which was most welcome. Next morning we got up as usual. The first piper played for parade; the second did not play at the usual time. We began to suspect all was not right. We remained thus until eleven o’clock, then received orders to fall in and follow the line of march. During our march we fell to one side, to allow a brigade, of guns to pass us at full speed. “Now,” said my comrades, “we will have work to do before night.” We crossed a river, and as we passed through a village, we saw, on the other side of the road, the French camp, and their fires still burning just as they had left them. Not a shot had been fired at this time. We observed a large Spanish column moving along the heights on our right. We halted and drew up in column. Orders were given to brush out our locks, oil them, and examine our flints; we being in the rear. These were soon followed by orders to open out from the centre, to allow the 71st to advance. Forward we moved up the hill. The firing was now very heavy. Our rear had not engaged before word came for the Doctor to assist Colonel Cadogan, who was wounded. Immediately we charged up the hill, the piper playing, “Hey Johnny Cope.” The French had possession of the top, but we soon forced them back, and drew up in column on the height; sending out four companies to our left to skirmish. The remainder moved on to the opposite height. As we advanced, driving them before us, a French officer, a pretty fellow, was pricking and forcing his men to stand. They heeded him not,—he was very harsh:—“Down with him!” cried one near me; and down he fell, pierced by more than one ball. Scarce were we upon the height, when a heavy column, dressed in great-coats, with white covers on their hats, exactly resembling the Spanish, gave us a volley, which put us to the right about at double quick time down the hill, the French close behind, through the whins. The four companies got the word, the French were on them. They likewise thought them Spaniards, until they got a volley that killed or wounded almost every one of them. We retired to the height covered by the 50th, who gave the pursuing column a volley which checked their speed. We moved up the remains of our shattered regiment to the height. Being in great want of ammunition, we were again served with sixty rounds a man, and kept up our fire for some time, until the bugle sounded to cease firing. We lay on the height for some time. Our drought was excessive; there was no water upon the height, save one small spring, which was rendered useless. One of our men, in the heat of the action, called out he would have a drink, let the world go as it would. He stooped to drink; a ball pierced his head—he fell with it in the well, which was discoloured by brains and blood. Thirsty as we were, we could not taste it. At this time, the Major had the command, our second Colonel being wounded. There were not 300 of us on the height able to do duty, out of above 1000 who drew rations in the morning. The cries of the wounded were most heart-rending. The French, on the opposite height, were getting under arms: we could give no assistance, as the enemy appeared to be six to one of us. Our orders were to maintain the height while there was a man of us. The word was given to shoulder arms. The French, at the same moment, got under arms. The engagement began in the plains: the French were amazed, and soon put to the right about through Vittoria. We followed as quick as our weary limbs would carry us. Our legs were full of thorns, and our feet bruised upon the roots of the trees. Coming to a bean field at the bottom of the heights, immediately the column was broke, and every man filled his haversack. We continued to advance until it was dark, and then encamped on a height above Vittoria. This was the dullest encampment I ever made. We had left 700 men behind,—none spoke—each hung his head, mourning the loss of a friend and comrade. About twelve o’clock, a man of each company was sent to receive half a pound of flour for each man, at the rate of our morning’s strength; so that there was more than could be used by those who had escaped. I had fired 108 rounds this day. Next morning we awoke, dull, stiff, and weary. I could scarce touch my head with my right hand—my shoulder was as black as, coal. We washed out our firelocks, and moved on again about twelve o’clock in the line of march.
Towards the afternoon of 22d, the day after the battle of Vittoria, a great number of our men joined, who had made their escape, after being taken the day before. We encamped and passed a night of congratulation; mutual hardships made us all brothers. The slain were forgot in our joy for those we had gained thus unexpectedly. Next morning, we made a more respectable appearance on parade, being now about 800 strong. The day following we continued our march. In the afternoon, we had a dreadful storm of thunder and rain. A Portuguese officer and his horse were killed by it. We encamped upon the face of a hill, the rain continuing to pour. The storm not abating, we could not get our tents up, and were exposed all night to its violence.