The partial actions at Lugo, and the risk of a general one, to which he had been exposed, checked the ardour of Soult, who was afraid now to trust himself too near our troops, unless with a superiority of numbers. We, therefore, gained twelve hours march upon him, and reached Corunna, with little more interruption. The bridge over the Mero was broken by intrenching tools brought from Corunna; and we thus delayed the progress of the French for a short time. At Corunna, had not General Moore represented the cause of Spain as quite hopeless, we might have found reinforcements from England, which would have enabled us to have turned upon our pursuers, and taken ample revenge for all the sufferings and disgrace we had endured. But instead of aid, he had directed empty transports to be sent: and, for want of a due knowledge of the country, had ordered them to Vigo, instead of Corunna. On discovering his error, it is true, that order had been countermanded; but contrary winds detained the ships, luckily for the honour of our native land, otherwise our army would have quitted Spain like fugitives. It was now quite clear, that we could not withdraw without gaining a battle. Corunna was a bad position assuredly: but had we been numerous enough to have occupied a range of hills about four miles from the town, our troops might have defended themselves against very superior numbers. These heights, however, required a much larger force than ours to occupy them, at least a fourth part of our gallant army having foundered by the way; it was, therefore, necessary to abandon them to the enemy, and rest contented with occupying a second and lower ridge. Such, however, were the natural disadvantages of this position, that some of our general officers advised Sir John to propose terms to Soult, for permitting the army to withdraw to our ships unmolested. Fortunately for the memory of Sir John Moore, he had sufficient confidence in his troops to reject this advice. [1]
To give battle to the French was therefore resolved upon, and all the necessary arrangements made. General Hope occupied a hill to the left with one division, with which he commanded the road to Betanzos, as the height sloped away gradually in a curve towards the village of Elvira, where General Baird's division commenced, taking a semicircular sweep to the right. On Sir David's right, the rifle brigade formed a barrier across a valley, and joined themselves to General Fraser's division, which was drawn up about half a mile from Corunna, near the Vigo road. The reserve under General Paget occupied a village on the road to Betanzos, about half a mile in the rear of General Hope. Further to the right of the British posts was a magazine containing 4000 barrels of gunpowder, which had been brought from England, and, with the usual indolence of the Spaniards, left there, while their armies in advance were entirely without ammunition! This it was now necessary to destroy. It was blown up; - the explosion shook the town of Corunna like an earthquake, and a village near the magazine was totally destroyed.
On the morning of the 12th January, the French army appeared moving in force on the opposite side of the river Mero, and soon taking up a position near the village of Perillo, and, occupying the houses along the banks of the stream, they menaced our left flank. Their force was gradually augmented till the 14th, when they commenced a cannonade, which our artillery returned in such excellent style, that they at last withdrew their guns. In the evening of this day, the transports from Vigo hove in sight. Slight skirmishings occurred next morning. Meantime, preparations for embarking were going on. Sir John finding, from the nature of the ground, that not much artillery could be employed placed seven six-pounders, and one howitzer along the line, and kept four Spanish guns as a reserve; ordering the rest of his guns to be embarked. The sick soldiers and officers, and all the dismounted cavalry, were also sent on board without delay. A few horses, too, were embarked, but there was little leisure for this indeed most of them were completely knocked up: another slaughter, therefore, was made of them, and the sea-shore was strewed with their bodies.
On the morning of the 16th all the preparations for going on board were completed: and the General intimated that he intended, if the French remained stationary, to begin embarking the reserve at four in the afternoon. This was about mid-day; and he mounted his horse, and set off to view the outposts. Before going far, he was met by a messenger, announcing that the French line was getting under arms; and a deserter, arriving at the same moment, confirmed the intelligence. He spurred onward. Their light troops were pouring rapidly down the hill on our right wing, and the advanced picquets had already commenced firing. Lord William Bentinck's brigade - the 4th, 42d, and 50th regiments, maintained this post. It was a bad position; and what rendered it more critical was, that, if they should give way, the ruin of the army was inevitable. The guards were in their rear. General Paget was ordered to advance with the reserve, and support Lord William. The French now opened a cannonade from eleven heavy guns, advantageously placed upon the hills. Two strong columns, one coming out from a wood, and the other skirting its edge, directed their march towards the right wing. A third column bore down upon the centre, while a fourth advanced slowly upon the left, and a fifth remained half way down the hill in the same direction. They had a decided superiority not only in the numbers, but in the weight of their cannon; and they fired with so much precision from their commanding situation, that the balls in their bounding reached our reserve, and even occasioned some destruction there.
Sir David Baird, on leading on his division, had his arm shattered with a grape shot. The two lines of infantry advanced to meet each other: they were separated by stone walls and hedges, which intersected the ground; but, as they closed, it was remarked, that the French line extended beyond the right of our troops, and a body of the enemy was seen moving up the valley to turn it. Soult's intention clearly had been to force the right of our army, and, by thus interposing between us and Corunna, cut us off from embarking. But, having failed in this attempt, he was now endeavouring to outflank us. Half of the fourth regiment (the King's Own) was therefore ordered to fall back, forming an obtuse angle with the other half. This manoeuvre was performed well, and they commenced a heavy flanking fire. Sir John Moore called out to them that this was precisely what he wished, and rode on to the 50th, commanded by Majors Napier and Stanhope. Getting over an enclosure in their front, this gallant regiment charged the enemy most vigorously; but Major Napier, advancing too far in the pursuit, received several wounds, and was made prisoner; while Major Stanhope was shot through the heart, and fell dead. General Moore now proceeded towards the 42d. "Highlanders!" he exclaimed, "remember Egypt." They rushed forward, driving the foe before them, till they were stopped by a wall. Sir John went on with them during their charge. He now despatched Captain Hardinge to order up a battalion of guards to the left flank of the Highlanders. The officer commanding the light infantry erroneously conceived from this that they were to be relieved by the guards, because their ammunition had been almost expended, and he began to fall back. The General, being aware of the mistake, exclaimed, "My brave 42d, join your comrades; ammunition is coming, and you have your bayonets." Upon this they instantly again moved onward. Captain Hardinge now returned and pointed out to the General that the guards were coming up; meanwhile the fire from the enemy was very fierce, and their artillery was playing unceasingly on the spot where they were conversing. A cannon-shot here struck Sir John Moore, and carried away his left shoulder and a portion of the collarbone, leaving the arm hanging merely by the flesh. He dropt from his saddle on the ground, stretched on his back; but his fine manly countenance changed not, neither did he exhibit the least sensation of pain. Captain Hardinge dismounted, and grasping his hand, observed him anxiously watching the 42d, which was warmly engaged, and told him they were advancing, whereon his countenance brightened. His friend Colonel Graham, (Lord Lynedoch), who now came up to assist him, observing the composure of his features, began to hope that he was only slightly wounded, till he observed the dreadful laceration. From the extent of the wound, it was vain to attempt to check the bleeding, and Sir John consented to be removed in a blanket to the rear. In raising him up, his sword hanging on the wounded side, touched his arm and became entangled, which induced Captain Hardinge to unbuckle it; but the General said, in his usual tone and manner, "It is as well as it is: I had rather it should go out of the field with me." Six soldiers of the 42d and guards now bore him away. Hardinge, observing his composure, began to hope that the wound might not prove mortal, and expressed his wish that he might still be spared to the army. Moore turned his head, and looking steadfastly at the wound for a few seconds, replied, "No, Hardinge, I feel that to be impossible."
As the soldiers were carrying him slowly along, be made them frequently turn round, that he might look again upon the field of battle, and listen to the firing, and he was pleased when the sound grew fainter and more distant. A spring-waggon came up bearing Colonel Wynch, who was wounded; the Colonel asked who was in the blanket, and being told it was Sir John Moore, wished him to be placed in the waggon. Sir John asked one of the Highlanders whether he thought the waggon or the blanket was best? and the man having said that the blanket would not shake him so much, he ordered him to move on. Thus they proceeded with him to his quarters at Corunna, weeping as they went.
General Paget, in the meanwhile, hastened up with the reserve to the support of the right wing. Colonel Sydney Beckwith hurried on with the rifle corps, repelled the enemy, and advanced so far as nearly to carry off one of their cannon; but a corps, greatly superior in number, moving up the valley at this crisis, forced him to fall back. Paget, however, attacked this body of the French, repulsed it, and pressed forward, dispersing every thing before him, till the enemy, perceiving their left wing was now quite exposed, drew it entirely back. The French now advanced in the centre upon Generals Manningham and Leith. But there the ground we held being lofty and favourable for artillery, they were speedily repelled. The position on the left was also strong, and their attack there was fruitless; but a body of them got possession of a village on the Betanzos road, and continued to fire from it, till Lieut.-Colonel Nicholls attacked it and drove them out. Night was now drawing on, and the French had fallen back in every direction. The firing, however, did not entirely cease until it was quite dark.
No battle was ever gained under greater disadvantages. The French force exceeded 20,000 men, the British did not amount to 15,000. In artillery, too, their superiority was equally great; The enemy had met on their way English guns, sent off thus late to the Spanish patriots, and these they had turned back and employed against our troops. Our artillery had been embarked, and the Shrapnell shells, (now called Spherical Case-Shot), which had contributed so materially to the victory at Vimeira, were not employed in this more perilous engagement. If the moral and physical state of the two armies be compared, the disadvantages under which our soldiers laboured will be found still greater The French abounded in stores which they had captured on their way, and were elated with a pursuit during which no man had been pressed beyond his strength, and had hourly received reinforcements to their already superior numbers. Our troops were in a state of misery, to which no army, far less a British one, had ever been reduced before till after a total defeat. We had lost our military chest, our stores, our baggage, our horses, our women and children, our sick, wounded and stragglers, and, in a word, every thing except our innate excellent and unconquerable courage. From 5000 to 6000 men, and as many horses, had sunk under the fatigues of this retreat. Our loss in the battle did not amount to 800; that of the French is believed to have exceeded 2000. Seeing that such a victory was gained by the British army, under such a combination of evil circumstances, what might not have been achieved by that army when entire and fully equipped, with all its means at hand, in full health and strength; in all "its pride of place," and plentitude of hope?
The General lived to hear that the battle was gained. "Are the French beaten?" was the question which he repeated to every one entering his room: and he expressed how glad he was to know that they were defeated. "I hope," he exclaimed, "that the people of England will be satisfied! I hope that my country will do me justice!" Then, addressing Colonel Anderson, who had been his friend and companion in arms for one-and-twenty years, he said to him, "Anderson, you know that I have always wished to die in this way. You will see my friends as soon as you can... tell them every thing... say to my mother..." Here his voice failing, he became excessively agitated, and did not again venture to name her. Sometimes he asked to be placed in an easier posture. "I feel myself so strong," he said, "I fear I shall be long dying. It is great uneasiness. It is great pain." But after some time, he pressed Colonel Anderson's hand firmly to his body, and in a few minutes expired without a struggle. He fell, as it had ever been his desire to do, in action and in victory. Never was any man more beloved in private life, nor was there ever any General in the British army more universally esteemed. Had he but been more ardent in hoping, and somewhat less anxious and circumspect and doubtful, he would have been much more competent to his own difficult task. Personally, he was as brave a man as ever met death in the field; and we ought to remember with gratitude, that when some of his brother officers wished him to sully the honour of his army by proposing a capitulation, he had the firmness to reject the proposal.
His wish had always been, to be buried on the spot where he might chance to be killed. The citadel of Corunna was therefore selected, and his aids-du-camp attended in turns, whilst a party of the 9th regiment dug a grave for him in one of the bastions. There was no leisure to procure a coffin, so that the officers of his staff wrapped up his body in his military cloak and blankets, without undressing it. About eight in the morning, the enemy having commenced firing, there being an apprehension that some serious attack might require their presence elsewhere, the officers of his family bore his body to the grave, where the funeral service was performed by the chaplain, and his remains were covered with earth. [2]
Meantime, General Hope, on whom the chief command had devolved, was passing the night in the embarkation of the troops. At ten o'clock he ordered them to move off from the field by single brigades, leaving strong picquets to guard the ground, and give notice if the enemy should approach. Major-General Beresford, with a rear-guard of 2000, occupied the lines in front of Corunna, and covered the embarkation. Major-General Hill, with a corps of reserve, was stationed on a promontory behind the town. Towards morning, most part of the troops had got on board; the picquets also were withdrawn, and embarked before daylight, and the reserve were alone left on the shore. On the 17th January, the French remarking this, pushed on their light troops to the heights of St Lucia, which overhang the harbour, where they got up some artillery, and began to fire at the transports. Several of the masters of these vessels being frightened, cut their cables and in the confusion four of them ran aground. These were burnt, and their men were put aboard other ships. During the night of the 17th, and the following morning, General Beresford sent off all the sick and wounded which would bear removal in the ships of war, which protected our embarkation. Lastly, the rear-guard got into the boats, the enemy making no attempt to interrupt us. And thus terminated this memorable and luckless expedition. But of those who reached England, many fell victims to a pestilential typhus fever which we had acquired, partly from coming in contact with the soldiers under Romana, and partly from the dreadful privations which we had undergone during the retreat. Of this disease the Quartermaster-General Anstruther died at Corunna, two days before the battle. He was a native of the county of Fife, in Scotland, a good man, and a brave officer.
[1] See Sir John Moore's last Despatch to Lord Castlereagh, which follows this narrative.
[2] The following verses, now generally ascribed to the late Reverend Charles Wolfe are so faithfully descriptive of the last obsequies of the hero whom they commemorate, that no apology is necessary for introducing them here.
THE BURIAL OF SIR JOHN MOORE.
Not a drum was heard, not a funeral note,
As his corse to the rampart we hurried;
Not a soldier discharged his farewell shot,
O'er the grave where our hero we buried.
We buried him darkly at dead of night,
The sods with our bayonets turning;
By the struggling moonbeam's misty light,
And the lantern dimly burning.
No useless coffin enclosed his breast,
Nor in sheet nor in shroud we bound him;
But he lay like a warrior taking his rest,
With his martial cloak around him.
Few and short were the prayers we said,
And we spoke not a word of sorrow;
But we stedfastly gazed on the face that was dead,
And we bitterly thought of the morrow.
We thought, as we hallow'd his narrow bed,
And smooth'd down his lonely pillow,
That the foe and the stranger would tread o'er his head,
And we far away on the billow!
Lightly they'll talk of the spirit that's gone,
And o'er his cold ashes upbraid him, -
But little he'll reck, if they let him sleep on
In the grave where a Briton has laid him.
But half of our heavy task was done,
When the clock struck the hour for retiring;
And we heard the distant and random gun
That the foe was sullenly firing.
Slowly and sadly we laid him down,
From the field of his fame, fresh and gory;
We carved not a line, - and we raised not a stone, -
But we left him alone with his glory!
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