CHAPTER VI
The French had assaulted with great vigor the fortified positionsof the Torrero. Ten thousand men defended them, commanded by DonPhilip Saint March and by O'Neill, both generals of great merit. Thevolunteers of Bourbon, Castile, Campo Segorbino, of Alicante, andof Soria, the sharp-shooters of Fernando VII, the Murcia regiment,and other bodies that I do not remember, answered the fire. From theredoubt of Los Martires we saw the beginning of the action, and theFrench columns which extended the length of the canal and flanked theTorrero. The fire of the fusileers continued for some time, but thestruggle could not be prolonged very long, for that point could notbe held without the occupation and fortification of others close by,like Buena Vista, Casa Blanca, and the reservoir of the canal. Butnone the less our troops did not retire except slowly and in the bestorder, retreating by the Puente de America, and carrying with them allthe pieces of artillery except one, which had been dismantled by theenemy's fire. Amidst it all we heard a great noise which resounded ata great distance, and as the fire had almost ceased, we supposed thatthere was another battle outside the town.
"There is the Brigadier Don Jos? Manso," said Augustine to me, "withthe Swiss regiment of Aragon, which Don Mariano Walker commands, thevolunteers of Huesca, of whom Don Pedro Villacampa is leader, thevolunteers of Catalonia, and other valiant corps. And here are we, handin hand! Along this side it appears to be about finished. The Frenchwill content themselves to-day with the conquest of Torrero."
"Either I am greatly deceived," I replied, "or they are now going toattack San Jos?."
We all looked at the spot indicated, an edifice of huge dimensionswhich arose at our left, separated from the Puerta Quemada by thevalley of the Huerva.
"There is Renovales," said Augustine,--"the brave Don MarianoRenovales, who distinguished himself so highly in the other siege, whonow commands the troops of Orihuela and of Valencia."
In our position we were all prepared for an energetic defence. In theredoubt del Pilar, in the battery of Los Martires, in the tower ofDel Pino, the same as in the Trinitarios, the artillery stood guardwith burning matches, and the infantry waited behind the parapetsin positions that seemed to us quite secure, ready to fire if anycolumns should attempt to assault us. It was cold, and most of us wereshivering. One might almost have believed that it was from fear; butno, it was cold, and anybody who had said the contrary would have lied.
The movement which I had foreseen was not slow in taking place, andthe convent of San Jos? was attacked by a strong column of Frenchinfantry. It was an attempt at an attack, or, rather, a surprise. Toall appearances, the enemy had a poor memory, and in three months theyhad forgotten that surprises were impossible in Saragossa. None theless they arrived within gunshot, and doubtless the graceless whelpsbelieved that merely at sight of them our warriors would fall deadwith fear. The poor men had just arrived from Silesia, and did notknow what manner of warfare there was in Spain. And, furthermore, asthey had gained the Torrero with so little difficulty, they believedthemselves in train to swallow the world. They were advancing thus, asI have said, and San Jos? was not making any demonstration. When theywere nearly within gunshot of the loopholes and embrasures of thatedifice, all at once these began vomiting such a terrible fire thatmy brave Frenchmen took to their heels with the utmost precipitation.Having had enough doubtless, they remained stretched out at fulllength; and upon seeing the outcome of their valor, those of us whowere watching the onset from the battery of Los Martires broke out intoexclamations, applause, cries, and huzzas. In this ferocious manner thesoldier celebrates in battle the death of his fellow-creatures. He whoinstinctively feels compassion at the slaying of a rabbit on a huntjumps for joy on seeing hundreds of robust men fall,--young, happy menwho have never done harm to anybody.
Such was the attack upon San Jos?, a futile attempt quickly punished.By that time, the French should have understood that if Torrero wasabandoned, it was by calculation and not on account of weakness. Alone,embarrassed, deserted, without external defences, without forcesor forts, Saragossa renewed again her earthworks, her defences ofbricks, her bastions of mud heaped up the evening before to be againdefended against the first soldiers, the first artillery, and the firstengineers of the world. Pomp and show of a nation, formidable machines,enormous quantities of power, scientific preparation of materials,force, and intelligence in their greatest splendor, the invaders bringto attack the fortified place which appears to be guarded by boys.It is indeed almost like this: all succumb, all is reduced to powderin front of those walls which might be kicked over. But behind thismovable defensive material is the well-tempered steel of Aragon souls,which cannot be broken or bent, nor cast into moulds, nor crushed, norrobbed of breath, and which surrounds the whole region like a barrier,indestructible by human means.
The whole district about the Torre Nueva was resounding with clamorsand alarms. When to this district comes such mournful sounds, the cityis in danger and needs all her sons. What is it? What is passing? Whatwill happen?
"Matters must be going badly back of the town," said Augustine.
Meanwhile they attacked us yonder to occupy the attention of the crowdon this side of the river. The same thing was done in the first siege.
"Al arrabal, al arrabal!" was our cry. "To the suburb!"
And while we were saying this, the French sent us some balls to showus that we must stay where we were. Fortunately Saragossa had enoughpeople within her walls, and could readily assist and support all parts.
My battalion abandoned the wall near Santa Engracia, and began to marchtowards the Coso. We did not know where we were being conducted, but itis probable that they were taking us to the suburb. The streets werefull of people. Old men and women came out, impelled by curiosity,wishing to see at close quarters and near at hand the points of danger,since it was impossible for them to be placed in the same peril. Thestreets of San Gil, San Pedro, and La Cuchilleria, which lead to thebridge, were almost impassable. A great multitude of women were passingthrough them, all walking in the direction of the Pilar and La Seo.
The booming of the cannon excited rather than saddened the ferventpeople, and all were jostling one another to get nearest the front. Inthe Plaza de la Seo, I saw the cavalry which, with all these people,obstructed the bridge and obliged my battalion to look for an easierway to the other side. While we were passing before the porch of thissanctuary, we heard the sound of the prayers wherewith all the women ofthe city were imploring their holy patroness. The few men who wished tocome into the temple were expelled by them.
We went to the bank of the river near San Juan de los Panetas, andtook up our place on a mound, awaiting orders. In front and on theother side of the river, the field of battle was divided. We saw atthe end nearest us the grove of Macanaz, over there and close to thebridge the little monastery of Altabas, yonder that of San Lazarus, andfurther on the Monastery of Jesus. Behind this scene, reflected in thewaters of the great river, could be seen a horrible fire. There wasan interminable turmoil, a hoarse clamor of the voices of cannon andof human yells. Dense clouds of smoke, renewed unceasingly, mountedconfusedly to the heavens. All the breastworks of this position, whichwere constructed with bricks from neighboring brickyards, formed withthe earth of the kilns a reddish mass. One might have believed thatthe ground had been mixed together with blood.
The French held their front towards the Barcelona road and theJuslibol, where more kilns and gardens lie at the left of the secondof those two ways. Thence the Twelfth had furiously attacked ourintrenchments, making their way by the Barcelona road, and challengingwith impetuous intrepidity the cross-fires of San Lazarus and that ofthe place called El Marcelo. Their courage lay in striking audaciousblows upon the batteries, and their tenacity produced a veritablehecatomb. They fell in great numbers; the ranks were broken, and,being instantly filled by others, they repeated the attack. At timesthey almost reached the parapets, and a thousand individual contestsincreased the horror of the scene. They went in advance of theirl
eaders, brandishing their cutlasses, like desperate men who had madeit a question of honor to die before a heap of bricks, and in thatfrightful destruction which wrenched the life from hundreds of menevery minute, they disappeared, flung down upon mother earth, soldiersand sergeants, ensigns, captains, and colonels. It was a veritablestruggle between two peoples; and while the fires of the first siegewere burning in our hearts, the French came on thirsting for vengeancewith all the passion of offended manhood, worse even than the passionof the warrior.
It was this untimely bloodthirstiness that lost them the day. Theyshould have begun by demolishing our works with their artillery,observing the serenity which a siege demands, and not have engaged inthose hand to hand combats before positions defended by a people likethe one that they had met on the fifteenth of July, and the fourth ofAugust. They ought to have repressed their feeling of contempt or scornof the forces of the enemy,--a feeling that has always been the badstar of the French. It was the same in the war with Spain, as in therecent conflict with Prussia. They ought to have put into execution acalmly considered plan which would have produced in the besieged lessof disgust than exaltation.
It is certain that if they carried with them the thought of theirimmortal general who always conquered as much by his admirable logic asby his cannons, they would have employed in the siege of Saragossa alittle of the knowledge of the human heart, without which the pursuitof war, brutal war--it seems a lie!--is no more than cruel carnage.
Napoleon, with his extraordinary penetration, would have comprehendedthe Saragossan character, and would have abstained from attacking theunprotected columns, whose boast was of individual personal valor. Thisis a quality at all times difficult and dangerous to encounter, butabove all in the presence of nations who fight for an ideal and not foran idol.
I will not go into further details of the dreadful battle of thetwenty-first of December, the most glorious of the second siege ofAragon. As I did not see it at close quarters, and can only give thestory of what was told me, I am moved not to be prolix, because thereare so many and such interesting adventures which I must narrate.This makes a certain restraint necessary in the description of thesesanguinary encounters. It is enough now to know that the Frenchbelieved when night came that it was time to desist from their purpose,and they retired, leaving the plain covered with bodies of the dead.It was a good moment to follow them with cavalry; but after a shortdiscussion the generals, I am told, decided not to put themselves inperil in a sally which could only be dangerous.
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