I was on the general provost guard, the evening previous to those of the seventh division being shot. The sergeants came with the company’s books to settle their accounts; the two Italians were in paroxysms of agony, crying and wringing their hands. The behaviour of the Frenchman, who had been taken prisoner, had volunteered into the Chasseurs Britannique, and afterwards deserted from them to his countrymen, formed a strong contrast to that of the others. Calm and dignified, he seemed to feel no fear of death, nor did any complaint pass his lips, save an occasional exclamation against the injustice of trying him as a deserter, being a Frenchman. In his circumstances, he argued it was natural that he should endeavour to join his friends the first opportunity that offered. When the sergeant was settling their accounts, the Italians paid no attention to anything said to them; but he discussed every item with the greatest exactness, and the sergeant wanting a small coin about the value of a farthing to balance, he desired him to procure it before he would sign the ledger; but though thus exact with the sergeant, the moment he received his balance, which amounted to some dollars, he divided every penny of it amongst his fellow-prisoners. When the Italians received their money, they sent for brandy, and began to drink intemperately, endeavouring to drown their sorrows and sear their minds; but it had quite a different effect, for they then broke from all restraint in the expression of their feelings, and cried and groaned with agony in such a manner, that they could be heard at a considerable distance from the guard-room. In this state they continued until morning, when they ceased their lamentations, only because nature was exhausted by their former violence. Quite different was the conduct of the Frenchman: when the brandy was procured, the Italians pressed him to take some, but he thanked them, and refused, ‘No,’ said he, throwing a look of mingled pity and contempt on them, ‘I need no brandy to enable me to face death.’ He continued to walk about with his arms folded during the whole evening, without seeming in the least disturbed; occasionally, indeed, his countenance softened, and a tear-drop gathered in his eye, but it was not permitted to linger there; and as if ashamed of showing the least want of firmness, he assumed redoubled inflexibility of countenance.
I could not help admiring his manly fortitude and courage. I had no opportunity of speaking to him, without being intrusive; but in silence I watched the expression of his face, with a feeling I could hardly describe. It was reported that he was a brother of Marshal Soult: the truth of this I cannot pretend to affirm. He was, however, certainly a man of a noble mind and independent spirit. About midnight he lay down and slept soundly until near the hour of execution; his courage seemed to be now even more exalted. He cleaned himself with the greatest nicety, conversed with his fellow-prisoners cheerfully, and endeavoured, although without success, to infuse some courage into the poor Italians. The guard having arrived, he took leave of those prisoners who were confined with him; and to one, with whom he was more familiar than the others, he gave some private injunction, and on parting with him he said emphatically, ‘Remember, I die a Frenchman.’ He marched off to the place of execution with the same collected intrepidity he had before evinced, and I understood afterwards, that his demeanour on the ground where he was shot, was similar to that displayed while a prisoner. All admired his courage, and were sorry for his fate.
CHAPTER III.
Leaving Campo Mayor we returned by the same route that we had come, re-crossing the Tagus at Ville Valhe, and halting at Albergeria, a village near the place from whence we had first set out to go to Badajos, and not far distant from Ciudade Roderigo, in which the French had a garrison. We remained here in camp for some time, very busy making fascions and gabions to fortify the position which our army had taken. While we lay in this encampment the weather was uncommonly warm, and the bushes and long grass, among which we had raised temporary huts, were rendered inflammable as tinder; the grass on our left had been by accident set fire to, and the flames soon spread in every direction. The whole of the soldiers were turned out to stop its progress; but in spite of their endeavours, it communicated to a wood which lay on the face of a steep hill in our rear, burning with the greatest fury. The night happened to be very dark, and there could scarcely be anything more grand or awful: the whole mountain was in a blaze of fire, and the noise and crackling of the trees burning was like the noise of a hurricane; it was a scene which a person could stand and gaze at it in mute astonishment, without being able to define the sensations which were raised in his mind. The wind fortunately carried the fire to the rear of our encampment, or it might have been productive of great injury, by blowing up the ammunition, &c.
From this place we removed more in advance to Robleda, a Spanish village. The people seemed to be comfortable, the houses were extremely clean, and here we had a fair specimen of the manners of the Spanish peasantry. All their domestic concerns were conducted with the greatest regularity: they were very punctual in the observance of all the rites of their church, and in catechising their children. They seemed to me to be really pious, and from their prudent, industrious habits, happy and contented. The people I was quartered on were uncommonly friendly; being able to speak the language a little, and Dennis being of the same religious persuasion, we were almost considered as members of the family. The inhabitants were mostly all employed in agriculture, and were very lively and fond of amusement, particularly of singing and dancing; here they had their fondangos and boleras every Sunday evening after mass, dressed in the gay and becoming fashion of their country, and many a ditty was chaunted in praise of General Mina and Don Julian. The village, however, proved very unhealthy: during the short time we were in it, eighty or ninety of our men left us to go to the rear sick, most of them with fever and ague, and among the number my poor friend Dennis.
On the 24th September, in consequence of the advance of the French, we were ordered to march from this to El-Bodon; and it was with unfeigned regret on both sides, I believe, that we parted with our friendly hosts.
On the 25th, at two o’clock in the morning, we were turned out to the heights above the town, which our brigade, along with one of cavalry, occupied. Our position was on a range of heights, over which passed the road leading from Roderigo to Fuente Guinaldo. Here we lay under arms until about eight o’clock in the morning, when we perceived, issuing out of Roderigo, one column of cavalry after another advancing along the road towards our post, to the amount of about forty squadrons; these were succeeded by twelve or fourteen battalions of infantry, with twelve piece of cannon. Our situation now began to get precarious, being completely separated from the rest of the army, by at least six miles. Still we had no orders to retreat—and to retreat without orders is not the custom of the British army.
One of the regiments was posted on the hill over which the road passed, and when it was seen that the French were bent upon advancing in that direction, two more regiments, the 77th British, 21st Portuguese, and the brigade of cavalry, were sent to reinforce them.
This was scarcely done, when the advanced squadrons of the enemy’s cavalry and artillery made a furious attack on this post, and succeeded in taking two piece of Portuguese cannon. The Portuguese artillery behaved bravely, having stood until actually cut down at their guns, which were posted on a rising ground to the right. The 5th regiment was now ordered to charge, and they succeeded in retaking the guns. While this was going on on the right, we were attacked by another body of cavalry in front, which was met and repulsed with determined bravery by the 77th regiment. Our cavalry also were warmly engaged, and charged different bodies of the enemy which ascended on the left. Here we kept our post gallantly, surrounded by about two thousand cavalry—until at last the French infantry being brought up, we were ordered to retreat in squares on Fuente Guinaldo, supported only by the small body of cavalry already mentioned. The French cavalry seeing us preparing for retreat, rushed furiously on, and the various squares were now successively charged by powerful masses of their cavalry, one in particular on three faces of the square, but they halted, and repulsed them with the utmost steadiness and gallantry. The French in those charges suffered severely, having a tremendous fire poured in on them each time. As they rushed on with impetuosity, when they were brought to a dead stop by the points of our bayonets, they were thrown into the greatest confusion, and were brought down by our shot in numbers. The whole now proceeded to retreat in excellent order, at an ordinary pace, keeping exact distances, ready to form up in the event of a charge being made.
We were much annoyed by shot and shell from the heights where the French artillery were posted, some of which falling in the squares did great mischief, killing and wounding several of our men, and blowing up our ammunition. We had about six miles to retreat in this manner before we reached the body of the army, with the French cavalry hanging on our flanks and rear, some of whom had even the audacity to ride to our front, and having taken part of our baggage, brought it back close past our columns: we could render no assistance, as our own safety wholly depended on keeping ourselves ready to form square. Here General Picton showed that coolness and intrepidity for which he was so much distinguished; for some time he rode at the head of our square, while a strong body of French hung on our right, waiting a favourable opportunity to charge. The captain who commanded us (both field officers being sick) was throwing many a fearful glance at them, and was rather in a state of perturbation—‘Never mind the French,’ said Picton, ‘mind your regiment; if the fellows come here, we will give them a warm reception.’