Never, perhaps, were British soldiers placed under greater disadvantages than on this glorious day, through the incapacity or pusillanimity, or both, of the Spanish general who commanded in chief. And though far more important victories have been gained by them, yet the cool bearing and determined courage that shone forth so conspicuously on this occasion, by completely removing the erroneous impression under which their opponents laboured, as to the fitness of Englishmen for soldiers, produced, perhaps, better effects than might have attended a victory gained on a larger scale, under more favourable circumstances.
I have met with Spaniards who absolutely shed tears when speaking of this battle, in which they considered our troops had been so shamefully abandoned by their countrymen, or rather by the general who led them. Nor is it surprising that the English character should stand so high as it does in this part of the Peninsula, when, within the short space of a day’s ride, three such names as Tarifa, Trafalgar, and Barrosa, are successively brought to recollection.
The walls of the watch-house of Barrosa still bear the marks of mortal strife, and the hill on which it stands is even yet strewed with the bleached bones of the horses which fell there; but so slight is the command the knoll possesses—indeed in so unimportant, pinched-up a corner of the coast is it situated—that those who are not aware of the unaccountable events which led to the battle, may well be surprised at its having been chosen as a military position.
Striking into the pine-forest, which bounds the field of battle to the west, we arrived in about half an hour at the bridge and mill of Almanza, and proceeding onwards, in four miles reached Chiclana; first winding round the base of a conical knoll, surmounted by a chapel dedicated to Santa Ana.
Chiclana is the Highgate of the good citizens of Cadiz, and contains many “genteel family residences,” adapted for summer visiters; but the place is disgracefully dirty, so that little benefit can be expected from change of air. The gardens in its vicinage offer agreeable promenades, however; and there is a fine view from the chapel of Santa Ana, whence may be seen
“Fair Cadiz, rising o’er the dark blue sea.”
Chiclana contains a population of about 6000 souls, and boasts of possessing a tolerably good posada, whereat calesas, and other vehicles, may be hired to proceed to the neighbouring towns; the roads to all, even the direct one to Vejer, being open to wheel carriages.
A rivulet bathes the north side of the town, dividing it from a large suburb, and flowing on to the Santi Petri river. The Cadiz road, crossing this stream by a long wooden bridge, proceeds for three miles and a half (in company with the routes to Puerto Santa Maria, Puerto Real, and Xeres,)[26] along a raised causeway, which keeps it above the saltpans and marshes that render the Isla de Leon so difficult of approach. Arrived at a wide stream, a ferry-boat affords the means of passage; and, on gaining the southern bank, the great road from Cadiz to Madrid (passing through the towns above mentioned) presents itself.
Taking the direction of Cadiz, our passports were immediately demanded at the entrance of a fortified post, called the Portazgo,[27] the first advanced redoubt of the multiplied defences of the Isla de Leon. From thence the road is conducted, for nearly a mile, through bogs and saltpans, as before, to the Puente Zuazo, a bridge over the river Santi Petri, or San Pedro. This, by the way, is rather an arm of the sea than a river, since it communicates between the bay of Cadiz and the ocean, and forms the Isla (island) de Leon, which otherwise would be an isthmus. The channel is very wide, deep, and muddy; the bridge has five arches, and was built by a Doctor Juan Sanchez de Zuazo (whence its name), on the foundation of one that existed in the days of the Romans, and is supposed to have served as an aqueduct to supply Cadiz with water from the Sierra de Xeres. It is protected by a double tête de pont; and has one arch cut, and its parapets pierced with embrasures, to enable artillery to fire down the stream.
Soon after reaching the right bank of the San Pedro, the long straggling town of the Isla, or, more properly, San Fernando, commences. The main street is upwards of a mile in length, wide, and rather handsome. The population of this place is estimated at 30,000 souls; but it varies considerably, according to the date of the last visitation of yellow fever.