The day after the action some English troops passed through the town of Alcobaça on their route to join the army; and this circumstance, coupled with our victory, led the inhabitants to suppose they, as well as their property, were perfectly safe; and the idea of removing the one or the other never once occurred to them. Their surprise and confusion was in consequence increased tenfold when they beheld our troops enter the town. Alcobaça was at that time a beautiful rich village, notwithstanding that it supported a magnificent convent and several hundred priests and friars. Those gentlemen, although rigid in their mode of living at times, know as well as any other class of people how to live, and, having ample means of making out life at their disposal, it is not to be wondered at that the convent contained that which was far from unacceptable to us, namely quantities of provisions.
On our arrival in the town the inhabitants, terrified at the possibility of being captured by the French, fled, leaving, in many instances, their houses in such haste as not to allow themselves time to take away anything, not even their silver forks and spoons—a luxury which almost the poorest family in Portugal enjoys. These, and other articles, offered a strong temptation to our men to do that which they should not, i.e. possess themselves of whatever they found in those uninhabited mansions. Their doing so, to be sure, was a slight breach of discipline; but it was argued by the “friends of the measure,” that Lord Wellington having directed the country parts as well as the towns to be laid waste, in order to distress the enemy as much as possible, the Portuguese were highly culpable in neither taking away their property nor destroying it. It would be almost superfluous to add that an argument of so sound a nature, and delivered in the nick of time, had its due force; it in fact bore down all opposition, and those whose consciences at first felt anything like a qualm, in a little time became more at ease, so that by the time the houses had been about half-sacked, there was not one who, so far from thinking it improper to do what he had done, would not have considered himself much to blame had he pursued a different line of conduct.
The priests, more cautious, or perhaps better informed, removed their valuables; but in all their hurry they did not forget that hospitality for which they were proverbial. They left some of their brethren behind, who had a dinner prepared for our officers, and when their longer stay was useless to us, and might be attended with danger to themselves, they opened their different stores, and with a generous liberality invited us to take whatever we wished for. Poor men! Their doing so showed more their goodness of heart than their knowledge of the world. Had they been a little longer acquainted with the lads that were now about to stand in their places, they would not have thought such congé necessary. As soon as those good men left the dwelling in which they had passed so many tranquil years, we began to avail ourselves of the permission granted us, and which decency forbade our taking advantage of sooner. Every nook was searched with anatomical precision; not even a corner cupboard was allowed to escape the scrutiny of the present inmates of the convent, who certainly were as unlike the former in their demeanour as in their costume.
In taking a survey of the different commodities with which this place was supplied, I had the good fortune or, as it afterwards turned out, the bad fortune, to stumble upon several firkins of Irish butter. Unquestionably I never felt happier, because it was a luxury I had not tasted for months; but my servant, by a good-natured officiousness, so loaded my poor, half-starved, jaded mule with, not only butter, but everything else he could lay his paw upon, that, unable to sustain the shameful burden which had been imposed upon him, he fell exhausted in endeavouring to scramble through a quagmire, and I lost not only the cargo with which he was laden, but the animal himself; however, I had the consolation to know that few of the articles cost me anything, and he himself was a sort of windfall, having been found by my servant on the retreat.
The army continued its march upon Torres Vedras with little interruption from the enemy, and early in October we occupied our entrenched camp. This formidable position had its right at Alhandra on the Tagus; its left rested on the part of the sea where the river Zizambre empties itself, and along its centre was a chain of redoubts armed with cannon of different calibre; between these forts was a double and, in some instances, triple row of breastworks for the infantry, and the position might be considered faultless.
On the night of the 29th the French army made that flank movement which obliged Lord Wellington to retire, and which is so well known as to render any detail from me unnecessary; and on that night we took our leave of the mountain of Busaco, and commenced our march to the Lines of Torres Vedras.
CHAPTER V
Occupation of the Lines of Torres Vedras—An army in motley—An Irish interpreter—Death of the Marquis de la Romana—Retreat of Masséna’s army from Portugal—Indulgence of Lord Wellington—The amenities of a subaltern’s existence.
The astonishment of the French general was great when he beheld the reception prepared for him; and his friend the Duke d'Abrantes must have been lowered in his estimation not a little, because it is well known that, contrary to the advice of several able officers, Masséna was overruled by Junot, who assured him those heights could be easily carried.
After numerous reconnoissances, the French Marshal came to the resolution of renouncing any hope of success from an assault; and his army formed a line blockade, with its right at Otta, its centre at Alenquer, and its left at Villa Franca. But it must have been a matter of deep regret to him to have learned, when too late, that by this useless advance of his, he exposed upwards of three thousand of his wounded from the battle of Busaco, left at Coimbra, to be massacred by the Portuguese militia and peasantry.