Saragossa: A Story of Spanish Valor

by Benito Pérez Galdós

By the dim light we perceived several figures that forced their way into the room, and, advancing, fired, while others came behind. At the noise of gunshots, our friends hurried down to us, and we penetrated boldly into the dark place. The enemy did not remain in it, and as swiftly as possible hurried back through the hole they had opened in the wall, seeking refuge in the place whence they had come. We sent some balls after them. We were not completely in darkness, as they had a lantern some of whose feeble rays came through the aperture diffusing a reddish light over the theatre of the struggle.

I have never seen anything like it, nor did I ever behold a combat between four black walls by the faint light of a lantern that cast flickering shadows like spectres around us. The light was prejudicial to the French; for we were on the safe, dark side of the hole, and they were good targets for us. We shot at them for a short time, and two of our comrades fell, dead or badly wounded, upon the damp earth. In spite of this disaster, others came to push the advantage, assaulting the hole in the wall and penetrating into the enemy's den. But although fire had ceased there, it seemed as if the enemy were preparing for a better attack. Suddenly the lantern went out, and we were left in black darkness. We looked about for the way out, and stumbled against one another. This state of things, together with the fear of being attacked by superior forces, or that they would hurl shells into that sepulchre, made us huddle confusedly into the outer court as soon as we found the way. We took time, nevertheless, to find our two comrades who had fallen during the fray; then we went out and shut up the aperture with stones and rubbish and planks and barrels, whatever came to our hands in the court-yard. On going up, our commander detailed men in different parts of the house, leaving a couple of sentinels in the court to listen to the blows of the hostile pick. He sent me out with others to bring in a little food, of which we were all much in need.

In the street it seemed to us that we had come from a tranquil position into a very hell, for now in the dead of night the firing was continued between the houses and the walls. The clearness of the moonlight made it easy to run from one point to another without stumbling, and the streets were constantly traversed by bodies of troops and peasants who were going where, according to the public voice, there was some real danger. Many, not in the lines, guided by their own instincts, ran here and there, firing whenever opportunity offered. The bells of all the churches sounded a mournful call, and at each step we encountered groups of women carrying the wounded.

In all directions, especially at the extremities of the streets that ended at the walls of Las Tenerias, bodies were seen stacked up in piles, the wounded mingled with those already corpses. It was not possible to tell from which mouths came the pitiful voices that implored aid. I have never seen such horrible suffering. I was impressed more than by the spectacle of the disasters caused by iron and steel, seeing many who were suffering from the epidemic lying on the doorsteps of the houses, or dragging themselves through the throng in search of a safe place. They were dying every moment without having a sign of a wound upon them. Their teeth chattered with the dreadful chill, and they begged for help, holding out their hands because they could not speak.

In addition to all this, hunger was demoralizing us. We could scarcely stand.

"Where shall we ever find something to eat?" Augustine asked me. "Who is going to see about that?"

"This thing must end soon in one way or the other," I answered; "either the city will surrender, or we shall all perish."

At last, near the Coso, we met some of the commissary who were dealing out rations. We took ours eagerly, taking also all that we could carry for our comrades. They received it with a great racket, and a sort of joviality inappropriate to the circumstances. But the Spanish soldier is and always has been like that. While they were eating some crusts of bread as hard as cobble-stones, the unanimous opinion spread through the battalion that Saragossa never would surrender, and never should surrender.

It was midnight when the firing dwindled down. The French had not conquered a hand's breadth of earth more than the houses they had occupied at sunset, although they were not to be driven out of the quarters they had taken. This was left for the days that followed. When the influential men of the city, the Montorias, the Ceresos, the Sases, the Salameros, and the San Clementes were returning to Las Monicas, the scene that night of great prodigies of valor, they showed such tremendous courage and uttered such contempt of the enemy that it roused the spirits of all who saw and heard them.