Note 90 — TALAVERA.

Between the British and French, even in military duty, the courtesies of society were respected, and an interchange of kind and gentlemanly civilities was not unfrequent, as will be evidenced by the following anecdotes:—

“While Hasparen was the head-quarters of the fifth division, the pickets of both armies avoided every appearance of hostility. Each occupied a hill, with sentries about two hundred yards apart. The French on one occasion pushed forward their videttes, and seemed as if they designed to trespass on the neutral ground. The captain of the English picket reported this encroachment, and received orders not to allow it. On the following morning, he observed that the French vidette had been advanced about fifty yards, and he thought it most advisable to demand an interview with the French captain of chasseurs. A peasant was despatched, and returned with a message, that the commandant would wait upon the British officer immediately; and, in a few minutes, the parties met on the neutral ground. The Briton stated the orders he had received and explained, that, to avoid so lâche a proceeding as to fire upon a vidette, he had solicited a meeting with the brave chasseur. The Frenchman expressed himself in the most flattering terms, and begged that the hussar might point out a situation which would be agreeable to him. A thorn bush, about one hundred yards behind the spot the French vidette was posted upon, was mentioned as equally advantageous for the security of the French picket; while it would be such as the hussar was permitted by his orders to allow. The chasseur gave orders accordingly, the vidette was placed at the very spot which was recommended, and the Frenchman, having expressed his satisfaction at the interview, produced a bottle of cogniac; two or three officers on each side now joined the party; a happy termination to the war was drunk; and the captain, whose name was (we think) Le Brun, said, he trusted that it would not be the fate of war to bring into collision the parties who had met in so amicable a manner.”

Again. “I have known several instances of right feeling evinced by the enemy, worthy of gentlemen who are above turning into individual strife the quarrels of the two countries. While the light division was at Gallegos, some greyhounds belonging to an officer strayed into the enemies’ lines, and an opportunity was found, by means of the first flag of truce, to request their being returned. The answer was favourable, stating that they should be sent in on the first opportunity. A day or two after the enemy made a reconnoissance, and when their skirmishers were thrown out, the greyhounds were seen in couples in the rear, and on the first carbine being fired, they were let slip (the dogs of war?), and came curveting through the whistling balls to their old masters.”—Recollections by a Subaltern.

There seemed to have existed between these noble armies an honourable confidence, that was often tried and never violated.

A descriptive passage of the advance across the Pyrenees runs thus:—“We perceived, not twenty yards off, a wounded voltigeur extended on the ground, and a young comrade supporting him. The Frenchman never attempted to retreat, but smiled when we came up, as if he had been expecting us. ‘Good morning,’ he said; ‘I have been waiting for you, gentlemen. My poor friend’s leg is broken by a shot, and I could not leave him till you arrived, lest some of these Portuguese brigands should murder him.—Pierre,’ he continued, as he addressed his companion, ‘here are the brave English, and you will be taken care of. I will leave you a flask of water, and you will soon be succoured by our noble enemy. Gentlemen, will you honour me by emptying this canteen. You will find it excellent, for I took it from a portly friar two days ago.’ There was no need to repeat the invitation. I set the example, the canteen passed from mouth to mouth, and the monk’s brandy vanished. The conscript—for he had not joined above a month—replenished the flask with water from a spring just by. He placed it in his comrade’s hand, bade him an affectionate farewell, bowed gracefully to us, threw his musket over his shoulder, and trotted off to join his regiment, which he pointed out upon a distant height. He seemed never for a moment to contemplate the possibility of our sending him in durance to the rear; and there were about him such kindness and confidence, that on our part no one ever dreamed of detaining him.”—The Bivouac.

Again. “From the 3rd until the 12th of July the two armies remained in presence of each other, encamped on the sides of a river, which at times is a formidable sheet of water, but which was then little more than an insignificant stream. Nevertheless, although both armies kept their guards on their respective sides of the water, and that the movements of each were cautiously watched, not one life was lost, nor one shot fired by either army.

“Indeed, so different from hostility was the conduct of both nations, that the French and British lived upon the most amicable terms. If we wanted wood for the construction of huts, our men were allowed to pass without molestation to the French side of the river to cut it. Each day the soldiers of both armies used to bathe together in the same stream, and an exchange of rations, such as biscuit and rum, between the French and our men, was by no means uncommon.”—Reminiscences of a Subaltern.

The reverses which attend even successful warfare occasionally require its rigours to be softened. The French and English felt this—and those who had the misfortune to be prisoners or wounded, received the greatest care circumstances would allow, and had baggage or money conveyed to them from their friends with strict fidelity. The tables of the commanding officers were open to their captives—their wounds were carefully dressed—and in some cases their escape connived at. A parole of honour insured the fullest liberty to the giver; but when it was not required or was refused, the prisoners were subjected to the least possible restraint consistent with security, and treated with gentlemanly attention.

“During three days that some British officers were at Castel Legos as prisoners of war, with a very slender guard, indeed almost nominal, they were treated by General Villatte with the utmost kindness. He sent dinner to them from his own table, with abundance of wine. His aide-de-camp and brother-in-law, Captain Cholet, visited them twice each day, to see that they wanted for nothing; and two, and sometimes three, surgeons visited them (by order) twice a day to dress their wounds. In fine, the greatest possible kindness and attention were shewn to them; and even their escape, on the night of the 31st of August, was easily effected, if not connived at, as the French retired without insisting on the officers being taken away, although carts had been provided.”

But a noble instance of an enemy’s humanity remains to be recorded—and with a similar instance of humane feeling displayed to a friend and not an enemy, we shall close these anecdotes.

“When the assault on St. Sebastian failed, and our troops retreated to the trenches, the enemy advanced beyond his defences, or clustered on the ramparts, shouting defiance, and threatening a descent in pursuit. To check this movement, an animated fire of round and grape was opened from our battery, the thickest of which fell on a particular part of the breach where lay a solitary grenadier of the Royals, shot through both legs, and unable to extricate himself from his awfully perilous situation. His fate appeared inevitable; when a French officer stepped forward, walked coolly through the hottest of our fire, lifted his wounded enemy in his arms, and bore him off, himself unhurt.”

The subsequent history of Colonel St. Angelo, as the gallant Frenchman was named, is curious, and instances the vicissitudes of fortune to which a soldier is exposed. On the fall of the fortress he was sent a prisoner to England, but, as his humanity well deserved, he was instantly liberated and sent home. On his arrival in Paris, Napoleon, having been apprised of his gallant conduct, promoted him to a regiment on service in the Peninsula. Thither he repaired—joined his new regiment, and in an attack on our posts was a second time made prisoner. Thus, as a prisoner he had visited England—had resided in Paris—been presented to the Emperor—promoted to a regiment—and made a prisoner again—and all within the space of six weeks from the taking of St. Sebastian!

The following interesting anecdote is thus told by Mr. Grattan:—“Nearly at the opening of the battle of Salamanca, a considerable body of the enemy’s tirailleurs pressed forward to that part of the ridge occupied by the third division, and immediately in front of the 88th regiment, the light infantry company of which, commanded by Captain Robert Nickle, was ordered to drive back this force: he did so in the most gallant manner; but the enemy could ill brook such a defeat, the more annoying, as it was witnessed by the whole division, as also by a considerable portion of one of the enemy’s corps d’armée. A reinforcement, commanded by an officer of distinction, rushed forward to redeem the tarnished honour of their nation, while some of the battalion-men of the Connaught Rangers, seeing the unequal contest their light infantry company were about to be engaged in—for the French were upwards of one hundred to sixty of ours—hastened to take a part in the fray. The detachment of the 88th lay behind a low ditch, and waited until the French approached to within a few yards of them; they came on in gallant style, headed by their brave commanding officer, who was most conspicuous, being several paces in front of his men. The soldiers of the two armies, posted at a distance, and lookers-on at this national trial, shouted with joy as they beheld their respective comrades on the eve of engaging with each other. But this feeling on the part of the French was of but short duration, for at the first fire, their detachment turned tail, and were what they themselves would term ‘culbutés,’ leaving their brave commandant, with many others, mortally wounded behind. Captain Robert Nickle ran up to his bleeding opponent, and rendered him every assistance in his power. He then advanced alone, with his handkerchief tied on the point of his sword, which he held up as a token of amity, and, thus re-assured, some of the French soldiers returned without their arms, and carried away their officer with them. They were delighted with the considerate conduct of Captain Nickle, and embraced our men on parting.”—Reminiscences of a Subaltern.

“The terms of mutual respect in which the British and French soldiers held each other, and the friendly intercourse it frequently led to, have been noticed by every writer on the Peninsular war. Nor was this confined to out-post duty only—the soldiers engaged on which seemed by a tacit agreement, and as a point of honour perfectly understood on both sides, to have agreed to avoid the unnecessary destruction of life; and, as far as consistent with duty, perhaps a little beyond what was strictly so, to testify the respect with which they had inspired each other. The officers of the two armies were also not unfrequently thrown into situations where they had the opportunity of evincing similar feelings. Of this an instance comes to the writer’sB recollection, as happening, among others, at the battle of Fuentes d’Onoro. On the morning of the 5th, when the French made their attack upon the right of our position, the writer of this note was at the time in conversation with an officer of a picket of the enemy in his front, where there was no prospect of the lines being immediately engaged; seeing the state of things which then ensued, after a mutual exchange of civilities, both parties retired to their respective posts, and were soon after engaged in warm conflict.”

The following anecdote is highly honourable to the Duke of Belluno:—When Victor entered the townC he found some of the wounded, French and English alike, lying on the ground in the Plaza. After complimenting the English, and observing that they understood the laws and courtesies of war, he told them there was one thing which they did not understand, and that was how to deal with the Spaniards. He then sent soldiers to every house, with orders to the inhabitants immediately to receive and accommodate the wounded of the two nations, who were lodged together, one English and one Frenchman; and he expressly directed that the Englishmen should always be served first.