CHAPTER IX.
Lord Wellington having finally resolved upon the siege of Badajoz, the advanced guard approached our cantonments on the 2nd of March. Next day we moved forward to Alegreta, and on the 4th to Albuquerque. Here we remained until every preparation was made which our Generalissimo considered necessary to ensure the success of the enterprise.
On the 16th of March we bade a final adieu to Albuquerque, and with the exception of one Portuguese brigade, the whole of Sir Rowland Hill's corps moved upon Merida. That evening we bivouacked near Zagala, next afternoon at La Nava, and on the 17th we entered Merida.
Sir Rowland Hill finding Merida in possession of a few of the enemy's dragoons, and that the latter were supported by a battalion of infantry, encamped about a mile from the town, on the opposite bank of the Guadiana, gave orders to General Long to cross the river a little below the bridge, with his brigade of cavalry, in order to capture those of the enemy in Merida, and keep the infantry from retreating too quickly, till we could get up to them. On the first alarm, however, the French cavalry fled from Merida, some by the bridge, others by a ford a little above it. The former, by discharging their carabines on the bridge, gave their friends in the wood intimation of their danger. As no time was now to be lost, the 1st brigade, 50th, 71st, and 92nd regiments, moved towards the town at a trot. In a few minutes we were on the bridge, and a few more carried us across it. Here we halted a minute, and then renewed the pursuit with renovated strength; but notwithstanding all our efforts, and those of our mounted friends, to bring them to action, the enemy retreated at such a goodly pace, that fast as our brigade ran, the fugitives always continued to run faster. Success at length appearing hopeless, and our men being completely blown, we gave over the pursuit, and retraced our steps to Merida, carrying with us a few prisoners, whose joints being less supple than their more fortunate friends, were obliged to fall behind, and were consequently taken.
Sir Thomas Graham crossed the Guadiana on the 16th, at the head of the right wing of the covering army, consisting of the greater part of the cavalry, the 1st, 6th, and 7th divisions of infantry, and then directed his march upon Santa Martha, Zafra, and Llerena. On Sir Thomas' arrival at the latter, the right wing of the covering army rested on the heights on the south of Llerena, and the left on the Guadiana at Don Boneto.
Lord Wellington also crossed the Guadiana on the 16th, invested Badajoz the same evening, and broke ground before the fortress on "St Patrick's day."
At day-break on the 18th, Sir Rowland Hill's corps crossed the Guadiana at Merida, advanced to Almendralejo, and retraced their steps on the 21st. In the afternoon of the 26th, we again crossed the river, moved up its left bank to La Zarza, and next morning still farther to Quarena. On the 28th, the cavalry, one brigade of artillery, and the 1st brigade of infantry, advanced to Medellin and Don Beneto. On the march the detachment was formed into two columns, the left consisting of the 92nd regiment, and two pieces of artillery, moved against Medellin; and the right column, commanded by General Howard, and composed of the cavalry, 50th and 71st regiments, one company 60th rifle corps, and remaining pieces of artillery, against Don Beneto. Medellin was occupied about sun-set without opposition. Informed that the enemy had retired from Don Beneto, General Howard, on arriving close to the village, dispatched Captain Blacier with his rifles into the town, to see that none of the enemy lurked in it, and to obtain an interview with the chief magistrate regarding quarters. The gallant Captain was plodding his way through the streets, thinking on the good things of this world, when all at once his thoughts were rivetted on the things of the world to come. Unconscious of their contiguity to the British, a French cavalry patrol had entered the village on a reconnoitring excursion, and like my friend the Captain, were thinking of every thing but what was before them. Each party was therefore moving along in conscious security, when, on turning the corner of a street, they unexpectedly met. With eyes looking amazement, they gazed at each other for a few moments, and then proceeded in the usual manner to extricate themselves from the dilemma into which false intelligence had led both parties. A pretty little skirmish ensued, in which the balls of the rifles made a suitable return for the favours showered upon their heads by the Gallic sabres. After a few mortal wounds had been given and received, the enemy, suspecting they had got into the wrong-box, wheeled to the right-about, retired rather precipitately, and left the gallant Captain in possession of the well-won honours of the street.
Medellin is built along the base of a lonely hill, on the left bank of, and close to the Guadiana. On the summit of the little conical mount, stands a castle, better calculated to repel the assault of a pop-gun, than a twenty-four pounder. On our arrival, we threw a strong piquet into it, which was followed by the whole battalion two hours before day-break next morning. On ascending the eminence, the air was disagreeably cold, but the scene which opened to our view at sun-rise, soon banished past miseries into the shades of forgetfulness.
Twelve miles to the west lay before us the memorable plains and surrounding hills of Arroyo-del-Molinos, where hundreds of Gerard's followers breathed their farewell sigh on the 28th of October 1811. From the ramparts of Badajoz, the continual rolling of Phillipon's thunder, reminded us every minute that the work of mutual destruction was proceeding with unabated violence. A few miles to the east we had a most commanding and beautiful view of the memorable field of Medellin, where Victor and Cuesta contended for victory in 1810, and where, before the close of that memorable day, victory perched on the standard of Victor, which on that fatal evening soared over the inanimate forms of thousands of warriors, who ever since have soundly slept on the plains of Medellin.
There shall they rest—ambition's honour'd fools,
Yes, honour decks the turf that wraps their clay.
Vain sophistry! in these behold the tools—
The broken tools that Tyrants cast away
By myriads, when they dare to pave their way
With human hearts—to what? a dream alone.
Can despots compass aught that hails their sway?
Or call with truth one span of earth their own,
Save that wherein at last they crumble bone by bone.