Adventures with the Connaught Rangers, 1809-1814

by William Grattan

Order having been at length restored, and the French pushed back again to their former ground, the German horse took the advance, and the night passed over quietly; but in the disgraceful encounter, which I have related in my last chapter, two guns of Macdonald’s troop, which were upset during the clamour, fell for a time into the enemy’s hands.

As we passed over the ground which had been the object of dispute the preceding evening, we beheld many of the brave Germans lying dead and naked. Every wound was in the breast, and at the skirts of the village lay the two captured guns; their carriages were broken, and they could not in consequence be removed; the French had set fire to the wheels, which were still smoking.

In less than two hours we reached the heights which command Madrid; the soldiers ran forward to catch a glimpse of the countless steeples that were distinguishable through the haze, and their joy was at its height when they beheld a city that had cost them so much toil and hard fighting to gain the possession of. Ten thousand voices, at one and the same moment, vociferated “Madrid! Madrid!” The enthusiasm of the army was still further increased by the thousands upon thousands of Spaniards that came from the town to accompany us in our entry; for miles leading to the capital the roads were crowded, almost to suffocation, by people of all ranks, who seemed to be actuated by one simultaneous burst of patriotism, and it was with difficulty that the march was conducted with that order which we were in the habit of observing. The nearer we approached the city the greater was the difficulty of getting on, for the people forced themselves into the midst of our ranks, and joined hand in hand with the soldiers. Wine was offered and accepted, though not to the extent the Spaniards wished, but the soldiers were too well-disciplined, and felt too proud of the station they held in the estimation of the people, and in the estimation of themselves, to allow anything bordering on excess to follow the latitude they thus had. There was nothing like intoxication, not the slightest irregularity, and the appearance of the officers, almost all of whom were mounted, and the respect with which they were accosted by the soldiers when occasion required it, was so strongly contrasted with the loose discipline of the French army, to say nothing of the bands of half-naked creatures that composed the army of their own nation, that it may be fairly said no troops ever entered any capital with all the requisites necessary to ensure them a cordial as well as a respectful reception, as the British army did on the present occasion.

At length we entered that part of the town near which the palace stands, but the obstacles which impeded our march, great as they were before, now became tenfold greater. Nothing could stop the populace, which at this period nearly embraced all that Madrid contained, from mixing themselves amongst us. The officers were nearly forced from their horses in the embraces of the females, and some there were who actually lost their seats, if not their hearts. Old or young, ugly or well-looking, shared the same fate; and one in particular, an old friend of my own, and a remarkably plain-looking personage, was nearly suffocated in the embraces of half a dozen fair Castilians. When he recovered himself and was able to speak, he turned to me and said, “How infernally fond these Madrid women must be of kissing, when they have nearly hugged to death such an ill-looking fellow as me.” I would mention his name, but as he is still alive he might not like the joke second-hand. We soon reached the Convent of St. Domingo, near the Plaza Mayor, which was destined for our quarters, and for a time took leave of these people who had so cordially welcomed us to their capital. The soldiers, thus quartered, were left to arrange their barracks; while the officers, who were billeted in those parts of the city adjoining the barrack, proceeded to occupy the houses allotted to them, and to partake of the hospitality of their patrons.

Evening had scarcely closed when every house was illuminated. The vast glare of light which the huge wax candles and torches, placed outside each balcony, threw out, so completely lighted the town, that night seemed to be converted into day, and the whole population of Madrid might be said to fill the streets. Nothing could exceed the popular feeling in favour of the British, and although the ancient palace of the Retiro was garrisoned by two thousand five hundred French troops, with a park of artillery at its disposal, sufficient to batter down the city, the gaiety was continued as if no enemy was within several leagues of the place. The illuminations lasted for three nights, during which not the slightest irregularity or misunderstanding took place.

On the morning of the 13th of August, the General commanding the fortress of La China having refused to give it up, orders were given to carry it by storm. The 3rd, or “fighting division,” as ours was called, was selected by Lord Wellington for this duty. At eight o’clock in the morning all the ladders were in readiness, and the division, commanded by Sir Edward Pakenham, defiled under the walls of the botanic gardens. The sappers had succeeded in opening several breaches in the wall, and the fire of the riflemen in the interior of the gardens announced that the attack of the outposts had commenced. One hundred thousand people of all ranks, ages, and sex crowded the streets, houses, and house-tops to witness the contest. No sooner was the first gun fired, which was the signal for attack, than an universal shout was raised by this vast multitude of spectators, and it would be very difficult indeed, if not quite impossible, to describe this animated scene. The soldiers, infected by the example thus set them, cheered in turn, and it was several minutes before any word of command could be heard from the Babel-like tumult that prevailed. Little or no orders were given—they were unnecessary. The men were directed to carry the fort at the bayonet’s point, and this was all that was said or that was necessary to be said. The troops were then put in motion, and this was the signal for another burst of enthusiasm from the Spaniards, several of whom joined our ranks. The vivas now became so tremendous that nothing else could be heard, and the leading platoons had made some progress through the shrubberies before the order to halt was known; owing to this a few men were killed and wounded, and those old and tried soldiers lost their lives or were disabled in a mere bagatelle, for the French general commanding in the fort displayed the white flag in token of submission the moment he saw the 3rd Division in movement towards the Retiro.

The fall of this place was of vast importance to us. In it was found a large supply of provisions, as well as one hundred and eighty-nine pieces of cannon, including a complete battering train. There was likewise a great quantity of powder and ball, and some clothing, as likewise twenty thousand stand of arms. The garrison, consisting of three thousand veteran soldiers, were made prisoners and sent to Lisbon, and the fort was converted into a state prison for disaffected or suspected Spaniards.

Thus ended our operations for the present, and we had leisure to make our observations upon Madrid, and avail ourselves of the hospitality of such of our patrons as were disposed to show us attention.

Madrid stands in a flat uninteresting country, devoid of scenery; fields of tillage encompass the city up to the mud wall that surrounds it, and the rivulet that meanders round it is in summer so insignificant as to be barely able to supply the few baths on its banks with a sufficiency of water; nevertheless this side of the town, which is next the Grand Park, and the regal cottage called Casa del Campo, is far from uninteresting, and as the Park, which abounds with game of all sorts, was open to the British officers, we had abundance of sport when we wished to avail ourselves of it. The streets are wide, and the principal ones, generally speaking, clean, but the part of the town possessing the greatest interest is the great street called Puerto del Sol. Some centuries ago it was the eastern gate of the town, but as the city became enlarged from time to time, it is now, like the University College of Dublin, in the heart of the metropolis, instead of at the verge of it. Half a dozen or so of the principal streets empty, in a manner, their population into this gangway, where the Exchange is held, and all public business carried on, so that any one desirous of hearing the news of the day, the price of the funds, or any other topic discussed, has but to station himself here and his curiosity will be satisfied, as almost the entire of the population of Madrid pass and repass under his eye during the day. Merchants, dealers, higglers, charcoal venders, fellows with lemonade on their backs, girls with pannellas of water incessantly crying out “Quien quiere agua?” all congregate to this focus, where everything is to be known.

Next to the Puerto del Sol must be placed the Prado or public walk, which is decidedly the most agreeable lounge that Madrid can boast of; but as the promenade never commences before five in the evening, while, on the contrary, the bustle of the Puerto lasts during the forenoon, it must have from me the precedence though not the preference. By five o’clock, as I before said, the walk begins to be frequented, the great heat having by this time subsided, and the siesta over. At seven it is crowded almost to suffocation, and groups of singers with guitars slung across their shoulders enliven the scene. At each side of the walk are tables at which sit groups of people enjoying the scene, but you rarely see men and women seated at the same table; indeed, it would seem as if the men totally shunned the company of the fairer sex, and engrossed themselves more with the news of the day than the gaiety of the Prado. Much has been said of the jealousy of the Spaniards, and in England it is a generally received opinion that they are a jealous race, but I never found them such—quite the contrary. In Madrid a married woman may go to any house she pleases, or where and with whom she wishes. They might have been a different people when Spanish romances and Spanish plays—old ones, I mean—were written, but if the manners and habits of the people were then truly narrated, I can with truth say that no nation in the world has undergone a more wholesome, thorough, and radical reform than Spain.