The battle of Salamanca: a tale of the Napoleonic war

Front matter

O ^ / c

AVVv^ ^

A O ^

I. Madrid, March 14, 1812

D ear Gabriel, — if you have not been luckier than I, we are finely off. Not a single thing has resulted from my investigations up to the present time, except the fact that the commissary of police is no longer in this city, and that he is not in the service of the French or any one else, unless it be the devil. After his trip to Guadalajara, he asked leave of absence, threw up his position, and now nobody knows anything about him.

My situation here has improved a trifle. I have surrendered, my friend : I have written to my aunt, and the head of my illustrious family indicates to me in her last letter that she has taken compassion upon me. Her agent has received orders that I am not to be left to die of hunger. Thanks to this and to my well-filled boxes, your poor countess will not have to beg for the present. I have tried to sell the jewels and laces and embroideries, but nobody wants to buy them. There isn’t a franc in all Madrid, and when a loaf of bread costs from seventy to ninety cents, you can imagine that there is not much fancy for buying jewels. If this state of things keeps on, the day will come when I shall have to give my diamonds for a single chicken.

I am sending this letter to you at Sepulveda. Try to get to Zamora. I pursue my inquiries here with untiring zeal, and, by affecting great attachment for the French cause, I have made friends among officials high and low, principally of the police. Let me know if you join Carlos Espana’s division. I think it would be better for your military career to give up those fierce guerillas; but for Heaven’s sake don’t go into the army of Estremadura. I do not believe the light we seek will come from that direction. Continue in Castile, my son, and do not give up my holy undertaking. Write to me often. Your letters and the pleasure of answering them are my only comfort.

THE BATTLE OF SALAMANCA.

March 22.

You cannot imagine the frightful misery which reigns in Madrid. The rich can exist, though with difficulty, but the poor are dying in the streets by hundreds. All the resources of charity are exhausted, and money seeks for food without finding it. The wretched people fight furiously for a cabbage-stalk, and for the leavings of those few who still set their tables. It is impossible to go out into the streets, as the spectacles that meet one’s gaze at every step fill one with horror. On every hand you see starving beggars, pushed into the gutters, and in such a state of emaciation that they seem corpses in which a remnant of useless and miserable life has been overlooked. They find their bed in the mud and filth of the streets and squares, and are silent except when they cry for bread which no one can give them.

The French promenade through this cemetery with well-fed and good-natured complaisance, but their police persecute the inoffensive people most cruelly. No groups are allowed in the streets, no stopping to talk, no looking in at shop- windows. The shopkeepers are fined two hundred ducats if they allow curious people to stand at their doors or windows, so that the wretched creatures have to rush out every moment to drive off the neighbors with a yardstick.

They say now that Napoleon is going to begin war against the Emperor of all the Russias. That will be a good thing for Spain, for they will have to take troops from the Peninsula, or at least they will not be able to make good the losses which they are all the time suffering. The French cause seems to me in a ticklish situation, and I have noticed that the most sensible among them no longer entertain any illusions in regard to the final result of this war.

As for our affair, what can I say that is not sad and depressing ? Nothing, my son, absolutely nothing. My inquiries lead to no result. I have not found the least bit of light, nor the slightest indication. Nevertheless, I trust in God, and hope on. I address this letter to Santa Maria de Nieva, as it is most likely to find you there.

April 22.

I have been at the palace, my son, and have prostrated myself before that tinsel Catholic Majesty to whom a few Spaniards pay court, stirring about restlessly so as to appear to be many. If I were to say to any of the dwellers in Madrid that Joseph I., known here as Squint- Eye,” or “ Joe Bottles,” is a pleasant, sensible, and tolerant person of good manners and benevolent impulses, they would think me crazy, or else sold to the French.

His appearance could not be better. Joseph has greatly the advantage of his keg of a brother. His grave and expressive face lacks little of perfection. He commonly dresses in black, and his entire personal bearing could not be more agreeable. I need not tell you that the people here talk of his debaucheries : it is only a weapon invented by patriotism in the national defence. Joseph is no drunkard. A thousand abominable stories are also told of his vices not connected with drunkenness, but, without positively denying them, I am slow in giving them credit. In short, Bottles” is a very good sort of king ;

THE BATTLE OF SALAMANCA.

and when one sees him and deals with him, one cannot but regret that it is usurpation and war, not birth and right, which have brought him here.

His champions here are few, easily counted. This dynasty has no loyal subjects except the ministers and two or three persons placed by them in important offices. Those Spaniards who serve him appear like disgraced victims, and have nothing of that triumphant and vainglorious air which those are accustomed to display here who are raised a couple of fingers above the crowd, either by merit or by another’s favor. They live either in shame or in fear, for doubtless they foresee that the English duke is going to upset all this. Some of them, however, indulge in pleasant dreams, and say that we shall have bottles, pitchers, and cups, world without end.

I have purposely left for the end of my letter our precious affair, because I wanted to surprise you. Haven’t you guessed from my tone that I am less dejected than usual ? But I shall not tell you anything until I can be sure that I am not misleading you. Restrain your impatience, my son. Thanks to Joseph, I have obtained some important information, and very soon, as Azanza has just assured me, this gleam of the truth will turn to full and complete light. Farewell.

May 21.

Great news, my dear friend, son, and servant ! At last the hiding-place of our mortal enemy is discovered ! A thousand blessings be upon Joseph and that unknown Queen Julia whose name I invoked in order to win his favor ! Santorcaz has not yet gone to France. From here all along the road to the west, my dear one, I can say to you, as they say to children playing blind-man’s-buff, You are warm. Yes, little one, stretch out your hand and catch the traitor. How many times we look for our hat and find it on our head ! As soon as you receive this letter, go straight to Plasencia, and, depending upon your astuteness, your courage, your talent, or all put together, enter the scoundrel’s presence and tear from him that treasure which he always keeps by him.

How I have had to work to find this out! Santorcaz left the service a long time ago. His proud and impetuous character made him unendurable to the very men who gave him office. For some time he was tolerated on account of the excellent service which he rendered, but finally it was discovered that he belonged to the society of Philadelphians,” which had its origin in Soult’s army, and of which the object was to dethrone the emperor and proclaim a republic. He was removed from his position shortly after he had robbed us of Ines, and since then he has w^andered through the Peninsula founding lodges. He was in Valladolid, in Burgos, in Salamanca, in Oviedo; after that I lost his trail, and for some time I thought he had gone to France. Finally, the French police (the worst thing in the world does some good) discovered that he is at present in Plasencia, seriously sick, and hindered a bit in his work of turning the villages upside down with his lodges and revolutionary conclaves. What a shame it is that the outcasts, the rogues, the liars and counterfeiters are the very ones to set

THE BATTLE OF SALAMANCA.

about reforming the world ! It makes me angry, I tell you ; it makes me furious.

The one who has completed my information about Santorcaz is a French sympathizer, no less of a lunatic and busybody than he is himself. Do you know Jos6 Marchena? He is one who passes here for a loose-living ecclesiastic, a sort of abbot who speaks more French than Spanish, and more Latin than French, a poet, orator, and man of fluent wit, who is said to be a friend of Madame de Stael, and who appears really to have been a friend of Marat, Robespierre, Legendre, Tallien, and other great folk. He and Santorcaz lived together in Paris. They are still great friends, and write each other often. But this Marchena is a man of little reserve, and answers every question put to him. Through him I have learned that our enemy is in poor health, that he stays only in villages occupied by the French, and that when he goes from one place to another he disguises himself skilfully. And we thought he was in France ! And I told you not to go to the army in Estremadura! Go; run ; don’t wait a single day. The duke must be somewhere about there with his army. I will write you at the head-quarters of Carlos Espana. Answer me immediately. Will you go where I send you? Will you find what we are looking for? Will you be able to give it back to me? I am beside myself.

II

When I received this letter I was on my way to join the army of Estremadura, although it was not then in Estremadura, but in Fuente Guinaldo, in the province of Salamanca. It fell to me to take a place on the staff of that marshal, called Carlos Espagne, who was afterwards Count de Espana. At that time the young Frenchman, who had been serving in our armies since 1792, was not at all famous, although he had distinguished himself in the actions of Barca del Puerto, Tamames, Tresno, and Medina del Campo. He was an excellent soldier, brave and vigorous, though of a wayward and ungovernable temper. Commanding universal admiration in actual battle, his performances when he had no enemies in front of him excited laughter or rage.

Many of his actions argued a lamentable emptiness in his cerebral store-houses, and if he did not sometimes set us to fighting windmills it was because Providence held us in His hand. But it was a frequent occurrence to have the alarm sounded in the dead of night, to rush hastily out of our lodgings, to look for the enemy who had thus unseasonably broken in upon our slumbers, and to find only that crazy Espana bellowing in the midst of the fields at his invisible fellow-countrymen.

This man was then in command of a division belonging to the army under General Carlos O’Donnell. The latter had just been joined by the bands of Julian Sanchez, the successful guerilla, and was preparing to join the ranks of Wellington, who was then in camp at Fuente Guinaldo, after having captured Badajos in the latter part

THE BATTLE OF SALAMANCA.

of March. The French in Old Castile were under the lead of Marmont, and were making no concerted movement. Soult was operating in Andalusia, not daring to attack the duke, and the latter decided to march boldly against Castile. In general, the outlook was not bad for us, while the imperial star appeared to be declining after the blows suffered at Ciudad Rodrigo, Arroyo Molinos, and Badajos.

I had received my commission as major in February of that year. Luckily I was for some time in command of an expedition that traversed the country about Aranda and afterwards the hill-country of Covarrubias and Demanda. By the beginning of March I had made sure that Santorcaz was not in that region. I daringly extended my explorations as far as Burgos, then occupied by the French, entered the city in disguise, and learned that the ex-commissary of police had been living there some months before. Then, going down to Segovia, I pursued my inquiries ; but then I was ordered to join the division of Carlos Espaila.

I obeyed, and, as precisely at that time I received the last of the letters which I have faithfully copied, I deemed it a special favor of Heaven that my military duty called me to Estremadura. But, as I have said, Wellington, whom Espana was to join, had already left the banks of the Tietar. We were to leave Piedrahita and unite with him either in Fiiente Guinaldo or Ciudad Rodrigo. From there it would be very easy to go to Plasencia.

While I was revolving different and desperate projects in my troubled mind, events took place which I must not pass by in silence.

III

After a prolonged march during the afternoon and a good part of a lovely June night, Espana gave orders for a halt and rest in Santibanez de Valvaneda. We had a comparative abundance of supplies, considering the great scarcity which was ordinarily our lot, and, as the army was always ready for a little amusement, there was no lack of hilarity in the village as we took possession of the houses at dead of night.

It was my fortune to lodge in the best room of a house which was a cross between a mansion and an inn. My orderly got ready for me a beautiful bed, and I went to sleep, without, I am bound to say, anything unusual or poetical occurring to mark that ordinary act of life. But suddenly, I do not know how long afterwards, I was awakened by a most peculiar sensation, which I cannot describe except by saying tliat, only a -single sense seeming to have been affected, I leaped out of bed, crying out, Who is there

Fully awake now, I shouted to my orderly, ^^Tribaldos, get up and make a light.’^

Almost at the same instant I discovered my illusion. I was entirely alone. But, though nothing was taking place in my bedroom, outside of my own restless mind, as was proved when Tribaldos came in with a light and began to search about, something was happening on the

THE BATTLE OF SALAMANCji.

ground-floor of the building, where the profound silence of the night was broken in upon by a loud disturbance caused by people, carriages, and horses.

Major,” said Tribaldos, drawing his sabre and cutting about him in the air, those rascals do not propose to let us sleep to-night. — Begone, you rogues ! Do you think that I am afraid of you ?”

Whom are you talking to?”

‘‘To the spirits, sir,” he replied. “They have come to amuse themselves with you after having had their fill of fun with me. One of them caught me by the right foot, another by the left, and a third, who was uglier than Barabbas, tied a rope around my neck, and by pulling and hauling on this they carried me ofl* flying to my native village, to show me my Dorothea saying sweet things to Sergeant Moscardon.”

“But do you believe in spirits?”

“ Why shouldn't I, when IVe seen them? I have taken more turns with them than I have hairs in my head,” he replied, in a tone of profound conviction. “ This house is full of the gentry.”

“ Tribaldos, do me the favor to kill no more mosquitoes with your sabre. Leave the spirits alone, and go down to see what is the cause of the infernal noise in the court-yard. It would seem that travellers had arrived; but, from the rumpus they make, one would think that not even Sir Arthur M^ellesley had more people in his train.”

The fellow went out, leaving me alone, but in a short time he reappeared, muttering between his teeth in a threatening tone and with a most unpleasantly disturbed countenance.

“So you thought, major, that it must be Englishmen or travelling princes who were thundering through the house in such a manner? Well, sir, they were actors, a lot of wretched actors on their way to Salamanca to give performances there during the feast of St. John. I must have counted eight of them at least, men and women, and they have two wagon-loads of painted canvases, costumes, gild^ crowns, pasteboard armor, and masks. A fine lot ! The innkeeper proposed to kick them into the street, but they pulled out their money, and as soon as his majesty saw the color of it he treated them like dukes.”

Tribaldos went out again, only to return a moment later.

“.It^ seems to me they must be already going,” said I, noticing a certain increase in the noise.

“ No, major,” he replied, laughing : “ it’s only that Sergeant Panduro and Corporal Rocacha have set fire to the wagon containing their stage tools. J ust hear the shrieks of the kings and princes and seneschals as they see their thrones and crowns and ermine robes all burning up! Gracious, how the princesses and other she-dignitaries do squawk ! I am going down to see if the rogues can weep here as well as in the theatre. The head man of them all can scream fit to split major ? I’m going down again to see them

I certainly did hear that one voice among all the other exasperated tones, and the strangest thing is that its timbre, distant though it was and affected by anger, made me tremble. I recognized it.

THE BATTLE OF SALAMANCA.

I leaped to my feet and dressed in hot haste; but the noises diminished little by little, and by the time I was ready to go out, Tribaldos came in and said, Tliey’re gone, major, the supreme rascals. The whole court-yard is full of burnt pieces of the palaces of Warsaw, pasteboard helmets, and the scarlet cloak of the Doge of Venice.^^ Which way have the wretches gone?^^

Towards Grijuelo.’’

“ They must be going to Salamanca. Get your rifle and follow me instantly.”

“ But, major. General Espafla wants to see you this very moment. His Excellency's aide has brought the message.”

“ May the devil take you and the message and the aide and the general all together! Why, I have put on my necktie wrong side front ! Give me that vest, stupid : you didnT suppose I was going without that?”

The general is waiting for yon. Down there you can hear him walking up and down, stamping and shouting, in his lodgings.”

When I reached the square, the disturbing travellers had disappeared. Don Carlos Espafia met me as I came out, and said, “ I have just received a despatch from the duke ordering me to march towards Sancti-Spiritus. Up, everybody ! Sound the long roll.”

Thus ended an incident which I need not have related but for its connection with others yet to be told.

IV

Two days later the monotony of our march was broken by a notable event. It was still early in the morning when our troops in the vanguard burst out into joyful cries. Orders were given to form in line, so that the various companies should wear their finest and most martial air. By command of the general, some ran to cut branches from the groves of oak near by, to make crowns or triumphal arches, or I don^t know what. When we reached the Ciudad Rodrigo road, we saw coming up a large body of men dressed in scarlet, horsemen on powerful steeds. As soon as we caught sight of them we all broke out into a glad shout :

“ Hurrah for the duke I”

It is Cotton’s cavalry of General Graham’s division,” said Don Carlos Espana. “ Gentlemen, be careful not to do anything ridiculous. The English are very ceremonious, and forms are of great importance with them. If we have branches enough, let us make a little triumphal arch for the conqueror of Ciudad Rodrigo to pass under, and I will deliver a speech I have all ready, praising him for his skill in the art of war and eulogizing the Constitution of Cadiz.”

The duke is no great friend of the Constitution of Cadiz,” said Don Julian Sanchez, who was at Don Carlos’s right ; but what difference does that make to us? If we can only beat Marmont, all the dukes in creation can go hang.”

The red horsemen finally came up to us, and their commander, who

THE BATTLE OF SALAMANCA.

spoke a supernatural kind of Spanish, paid his compliments to our general, assuring him that his excellency the Duke of Ciudad K-odrigo would not be long in reaching Sancti-Spiritus. We at once began to erect our arch at the entrance to that village, and you should have seen the local school-master bringing out some great card-board placards covered with fine lettering and original poetry. In the latter metrical performances the virtues of the modern Fabius, Sir Arthur Wellesley, Viscount Wellington of Talavera, Duke of Ciudad Rodrigo, Grandee of Spain and Peer of England, were exalted far above the moon.

One after another the numerous divisions of the army kept arriving and spreading out through all the region, and at last, among the most brilliant of the Scotch, English, and Spanish soldiers, appeared a mailcoach, greeted with shouts and jubilation by the men on either side of the road. In the coach I saw a large red nose, and some extraordinarily white teeth gleaming beneath it. In the rapidity of the march, that was about all I could make out, except a courteous and benevolent smile returning the salutations of the troops.

I ought not to omit to state, although it is hardly in keeping with serious history, that when the coach passed under the triumphal arch, inasmuch as the latter was not built by Roman engineers, it was knocked down by a blow from one of the wheels and fell in a general ruin upon the unlucky head of the school-master. As no one was hurt, we could only celebrate the calamity with laughter. In the mean time, Don Carlos Espaila unloaded his speech before the duke, and no sooner had he concluded than the school-master stepped up with the dire project of delivering an oration on his own account. The English general consented to hear it, politely concealing the fact that he was bored, and listened to the pedantries of the orator with frequent nods of his head and that peculiar English smile which makes one believe in a little intermaxillary cord which can be used to make the mouth fly open as if it were a curtain.

Major,’^ said my aide to me joyfully, after I had left the company of the generals to see about my lodging, did you see the other army behind them ?’’

You mean the Portuguese ?’’

‘^Portuguese your grandmother! I mean the women, — an army of women. The English take their wives with them instead of baggage. That’s the way to go to war !”

I looked, and saw as many as forty or fifty wagons, coaches, and other kinds of vehicles, all filled with women. Some seemed to belong, to the upper classes, some to the lower, and they were of different ages and styles and degrees of beauty ; though it must be said, to tell the truth, that most of them had no beauty in any degree whatever. The moment the carriages stopped, amid clouds of dust, you should have seen the lady travellers leap lightly down, and heard the chattering and outcry that followed. They cried out for their husbands, and the latter, in their turn, forced their way into the throng of femininity, calling out for their wives. Happy couples were immediately formed, and the air was filled with the confused sounds of guttural voices and* shrill tones mingled.

THE BATTLE OF SALAMANCA.

It was not possible for the whole of the division of our allies to pass the night in that village, and so a part of it followed the road along towards Aldehuela de Yeltes. Many of the women, who formed a part of the convoy of provisions and ammunition, entered their carriages again, while others remained in Sancti-Spiritus. Throughout the day we were occupied in looking up the best lodgings possible, but, as there were so many of us, the question was not wholly solved by nightfall. As for myself, I was just about making up my mind to sleep in the open, when Tribaldos brought me word that the local school-master would take the greatest pleasure in placing his room at my disposal. After calling upon my worthy host, I went out to attend to various military duties, and was going back to the house again, when I heard alarmed outcries near the road. I ran in the direction of the sound, and discovered a little carriage, drawn, swaying and bounding, by a runaway horse. As it swept by us at terrible speed, a woman’s cry fell upon my ears.

“There’s a woman in that coach, Tribaldos,” I shouted to my aide.

“ It’s an Englishwoman, sir, who was left behind by the others.”

“Poor creature! Wasn’t there a man among them all courageous enough to stop the horse and save her ? But he seems to be slowing up. Let’s run there.”

“ The carriage is out of the road,” cried Tribaldos, in great excitement, “ and in a place of the greatest peril.”

I saw at once that the carriage was on the point of being dashed to pieces. The horse had entangled himself in some heavy vines, and had fallen, almost stunned by the violence of the shock. But he was over the edge of a very steep bank, and was sliding down towards the chasm below. The coach had toppled over without being crushed, but was in a most terrifying position.

I rushed to the spot, at every leap loosening stones that rolled on ominously, and finally laid hold of the vehicle. A woman was calling frantically from within it.

“ Senora,” I shouted, “ I am here. Don’t be alarmed. You will not fall over the cliff.”

The horse was pawing desperately in his efforts to get up, and by his struggles was drawing the carriage nearer to the abyss. A moment more, and all would have been over. I braced myself against a great rock, and with both hands held back the toppling carriage.

“ Senora,” I cried, eagerly, “ try to get out. Catch hold of me : do not be afraid. If you can only get out on the ground, the danger will be past.”

“I cannot I I cannot 1” she exclaimed, in agony.

“ Have you broken any bones ?”

“ No. Now I will see if I cannot get out.”

“ Try your best. If we lose a minute we shall both go over.”

I cannot describe the prodigious efforts we both put forth. The fact is that in such critical moments the human body has a force far beyond the ordinary, and performs a series of wonderful feats which it afterwards can neither remember nor repeat. All I know is that, with

THE BATTLE OF SALAMANCA.

God’s help, I succeeded in rescuing that unknown woman from her dreadful peril. I carried her in my arms up to the road.

“ Tribaldos, you lazy coward,” 1 cried to my orderly, who only then came to my aid, help me up here.”

Once safe in the road, the fair unknown took a few steps.

Sir, I owe you my life,” she said, recovering her lost color and the brilliancy of her eyes. She seemed to be about twenty-three, and was tall and graceful. Her spirited bearing, her gentle voice, her beautiful face, and her ceremonious way of addressing me, due, doubtless, to her not knowing Spanish very well, made upon me a profound impression.

V

Leaning on me, she tried to walk, but her limbs could not support her. Thereupon I took her in my arms, and said to Tribaldos, Help me ; we will take her to our lodgings.”

Luckily, it was not far. In the door-way the Englishwoman turned her head, (^ened her eyes, and said to me, I must not trouble you further, sir. I can go up the stairs alone — if you will give me your arm.”

At that instant an English officer. Sir Thomas Parr, whom I had known in Cadiz, came up in a tremendous hurry. After I had told him what had happened, he spoke to his countrywoman in English.

But is there a comfortable room here for the lady ?” he asked me.

‘‘She can rest in my own room,” interposed the school-master, who had come down somewhat officiously on hearing the noise.