[38] Now Lord Beresford.
[39] He was the only peasant I ever saw in battle, except one who offered his services at Vittoria, to conduct our division over an unprotected bridge, when the second shot fired took off the poor fellow's head.
[40] It has been affirmed, that the firing of the French picquet of dragoons in the forest caused us to go too much to the left. On the contrary, we were moving directly towards the ford of Huerta, on the Tormes, as it was supposed that the Spaniards left in the old castle of Alba de Tormes would prevent the enemy crossing the bridge at that place. These Spaniards, however, unknown to the General-in-Chief, had surrendered the day before.
CHAPTER X.
Well-performed retreat of the French after the battle of Salamanca—Progress of the English troops—Description of the Spanish plains and towns—Custom of the Siesta—Movements of Joseph Bonaparte—Bivouac at Olmedo, and ball given there by Lord Wellington—Advance of the British army, and entry into Valladolid—A swimming adventure—Illness of the author, and his removal to the town of Cuellar—Timorous conduct of the Portuguese dragoons—The English army enters Madrid—Incidents attending the author's further removal as an invalid to Salamanca—General position of affairs on the Continent—Operations of Sir R. Hill—Re-capture of Valladolid—Unsuccessful siege of Burgos—Various movements of the forces.
A great portion of the French army had marched more than twelve leagues[41] in thirty-six hours, (advancing and retreating from the field of battle,) and had also been engaged in hard-fighting six hours out of that time; therefore, until the night of the 23d, they had hardly made a halt for any considerable time during two days and a night, and I think I may venture to assert, that the rapidity of their movements, before and after the action, and their ultimate escape under Gen. Clausel from the very jaws of destruction, are equally astonishing.
Early on the morning of the 24th of July, we passed Pena-Aranda, from whence the inhabitants sallied out, loaded with bread, wine, and liquors, and rent the air with their acclamations in praise of the glorious victory that we had won over the French; and even the little boys straddled out their legs and bent forward their heads in derision of the enemy's soldiers, to represent to us to what a state of distress and exhaustion they were reduced. As we passed onwards, numerous objects of commiseration, lying by the side of the road, reminded us of the miseries of war in all its horrors: many of the French soldiers lay dead, exposed to the scorching rays of the sun, which had so blistered their faces, and swelled their bodies, that they scarcely represented human forms, and looked more like some huge and horrible monsters, of gigantic dimensions, than any thing else. It is impossible to convey an adequate idea of such spectacles, or of the sensations they must have endured during their last agonies. These, now inanimate, objects had marched over sandy plains, without a tree to shelter them, while suffering from fatigue, sore feet, and want of water; then crowding into the battle, covered with dust, and under a scorching sun, they had received severe wounds, and were finally dragged, or carried on rudely-constructed bearers, from the scene of action, during excruciating torture, and ultimately left to perish by the side of the roads, or on stubble land, with their parched tongues cleaving to the roof of their mouths, and (to complete their miseries) before breathing their last sigh, to behold, with glazed and half-closed eyes, the uplifted hand of a Spanish assassin, armed with a knife, to put an end to their existence. These dreadful fates awaited the defeated French soldiers in Spain; it was impossible to gaze on the mutilated bodies of these our enemies without feelings of deep commiseration for our fellow-creatures, who, a day or two previously, had been alive like ourselves, and perhaps the admiration of their comrades.
The vast campos in Leon, the two Castiles, and other parts of Spain, are apparently interminable sandy plains, covered with corn or small stumpy vines. In summer, many of the principal rivers become very shallow, and numerous tributary streams are dried up, leaving their winding beds, or indentures, filled with pebbles. In many parts there is not a tree, a hedge, or a shrub to mark private or public boundaries, nor a drop of water to be procured. The shapeless roads, or beaten tracts, are ancle-deep in sand, and in some places fifty yards wide; at other spots branching off into three or four paths, which again join at a given point. During the excessive heat of the day a solemn silence frequently pervades these immense plains; and the high steeples of churches, or the venerable turrets of monasteries of las villas, or pueblos, alone present a land-mark, and direct the weary footsteps of the traveller.