sábado, 7 de junio de 2025

John Patterson en Don Benito

 


Es un placer compartir con vosotros una carta enviada por mi amigo José María Gallardo que nos brinda una visión cercana y personal sobre las ceremonias de homenaje a los valientes caídos en la batalla de La Albuera. 

Estas ceremonias, que se llevan a cabo cada año por la Associação dos Amigos do Cemitério dos Ingleses em Elvas, representan un acto de memoria y respeto hacia quienes lucharon y perdieron sus vidas en aquel enfrentamiento histórico.

 Además, en su misiva, nuestro amigo nos comparte detalles sobre la conferencia que realizó, enriqueciendo aún más nuestro entendimiento sobre la importancia de mantener viva la memoria de estos eventos y honrar a los héroes del pasado. Y traducido al castellano, el paso del capitán inglés John Patterson por Don Benito
 
Comienzan en Valverde de Leganés el día 13 de mayo. Allí está enterrado el teniente coronel sir William James Myers, que fue mortalmente herido en la batalla y murió al día siguiente en Valverde.
 
El día 14 se celebra una misa por el rito anglicano en la capilla del baluarte de São João da Corujeira, donde se encuentra el cementerio. La misa la oficia una mujer, la reverenda Fran Le Blanc. Después se sube al baluarte propiamente dicho. Allí están las tumbas de los que murieron en la batalla, así como, adosadas al muro, una serie de lápidas en honor de regimientos y batallones.
 
Las lápidas están en inglés, la mayoría, aunque algunas de ellas están en portugués y en español. Hay discursos por parte de militares británicos, portugueses y por parte del comandante militar de Badajoz. El año pasado el comandante era un coronel y este año ha sido un general. Todos los discursos son en inglés, aunque este año ha habido un cura capellán de la base General Menacho, que ha hablado en español.
 
Luego hay una comida, llamémosla de hermandad, en un hotel de Elvas, una subasta de objetos y libros relacionados con la guerra de la Independencia, y una charla sobre algún asunto que tenga que ver con la guerra. Este año, por mis pecados, he sido yo el encargado de la charla. Tiene que ser en inglés porque aproximadamente el 70% de los socios son británicos, un 20% portugueses y un 10% españoles.





La conferencia me salió casi perfecta, está feo que yo lo diga. Mantuve la atención en todo momento y por las reacciones del respetable vi que estaba gustando lo que decía y, sobre todo, no me pasé de tiempo. Eso hubiera sido fatal después de una comida opípara y abundancia de vino portugués.

El día 15, se trasladan las ceremonias a Vila Viçosa, donde también enterraron a muchos británicos, y el 16, aniversario de la batalla van a La Albuera. Yo solo he asistido a las ceremonias del día 14.

Te adjunto algunas fotos y los textos. En la foto del cementerio se ve poca gente porque nos apiñamos a la sombra.

Espero que te guste.

Un abrazo, Chele.


John Patterson en Don Benito


Marzo de 1812

Permanecimos en Campo Maior hasta el 4 de noviembre y desde allí nos dirigimos a Portalegre y Alburquerque. En este último pueblo quedamos alojados el 4 de marzo de 1812.

[...] De nuevo partimos de Alburquerque y, después de varias marchas y contramarchas, nos dirigimos a Don Benito, a donde llegamos el 22 de marzo, habiéndonos detenido previamente algunos días en Almendralejo.

Don Benito es un pueblo grande con una población de alrededor de cinco mil almas, y se sitúa en el corazón de una región muy productiva.





Se me alojó en la casa de don Diego Ramírez, cuya familia estaba formada por cuatro damiselas guapas y rollizas, dos niños, y su esposa, una matrona charlatana, que en esta ocasión estuvo muy mandona. Se me acomodó en un aposento hermoso y bien amueblado, donde inmediatamene me presentaron a mi respetable anfitrión, un viejo caballero español bueno y alegre. Nos sentamos alrededor de un gran brasero, bien provisto de carbón, y pronto nos enzarzamos en un parloteo ruidoso y en cotilleos, con una soltura digna de los adeptos más expertos a esta ciencia. De acuerdo con la costumbre, unas simpáticas muchachas se encargaban del aparador y servían líquido cristalino a los que quisieran formar parte de la Liga Antialcohólica. Comenzada la cena, don Diego presidía al estilo de un auténtico mayordomo. El festín consistía en un gran plato de ensalada con aceite y otros ingredientes. Sirvieron chucherías en abundancia, que ocupaban el lugar de alimentos más nutritivos, mientras, a modo de entremés, traían embutidos y ajo, lo cual nos agasajó las glándulas olfativas muy agradablemente. A estos siguieron otras chucherías y, para fomentar la alegría de nuestra juerga, sirvieron vino generoso con liberalidad. Tampoco les daba vergüenza a las jóvenes señoras de servirse copas llenas de esa bebida vivificante, y se llenaban vasos de dimensiones parecidas a nuestros vasos ingleses para el whisky. Una de las damiselas, que se llamaba Margarita, entretenía con su guitarra a la concurrencia con algunas canciones agradables, y la acompañaba su hermana Francisca cantando, mientras que Dolores, bonita y de ojos negros, bailaba un bolero tocando las castañuelas del modo más encantador, para deleite y admiración de aquel alegre grupo.

Los españoles parecen tener en todo momento alma para la música, y aprecian sobre todo la vena lastimera, tal y como la cantan las muchachas campesinas de esa forma tan cautivadora. Les encanta la gaita escocesa, así que cuando apareció el cuerpo de ejército de las Highlands, la gente de toda edad y condición corrió a las puertas y ventanas para escuchar a Sandy, su gaitero, mientras tocaba por las calles.

Antes de que comenzara el asedio de Badajoz, se ordenó a la 2ª división que marchara en dirección a esa plaza, con el fin de formar parte de un cuerpo de observación destinado a contrarrestar cualquier interrupción de nuestros planes, que podrían estar amenazados por el duque de Dalmacia, que en ese momento permanecía con su ejército en la vecindad de Sevilla, en Andalucía. Consecuentemente las divisiones de los generales Hill y Graham acamparon en los bosques de delante de Talavera la Real, a tres leguas de Badajoz, en la orilla izquierda del Guadiana.

Septiembre de 1812

El 1 de septiembre volvimos a reanudar nuestro viaje hacia el interior, y, como salimos varias horas antes del amanecer, llegamos a La Haba cuando clareaba. En su mayor parte nuestro camino atravesaba una región escasamente plantada de olivos, pero que tenía numerosas y productivas viñas. Al aproximarnos a La Haba se podían discernir en la distancia las agujas de las torres de Don Benito, y al avanzar dos leguas más apareció el cerro de Marcella [Magacela], sobre cuya parte más alta se yergue el castillo y el pueblecito de Marcella. El primero es una ruina fortificada, con una torre redonda en el centro, y el segundo es un lugar pobre y mísero que consiste en unas pocas casuchas apiñadas unas contra otras.

Vimos que, como todos los pueblos pequeños de esta parte de España, La Haba era un montón de moradas insignificantes, agrupadas sin orden ni regularidad, como si el lugar se hubiera caído de repente de las nubes. La iglesia, como siempre, en el centro, era el objeto más prominente de esta colección confusa de viviendas inclasificables.

Entramos en Don Benito el 4 de septiembre, y, como ya nos habíamos alojado allí antes, los habitantes fueron amables y hospitalarios. En esta ocasión, igual que en todas las demás, tuvimos la oportunidad de observar que los españoles resultaban ser un pueblo generoso y amable, y que manifestaban de todas las formas posibles, y con todas las señales de buena voluntad, el placer que experimentaban no sólo por ver a unos extraños sino también por el regreso de aquellos a los que habían conocido antes, y que en otros momentos habían disfrutado de su hospitalidad. Se me alojó en la casa de don Pedro Montenegro, un caballero gordo y corpulento que se esforzó junto a su familia en hacer mi permanencia entre las paredes de su casa tan agradable como yo pudiera desear.

Durante nuestra estancia se llevó a cabo en mi alojamiento la ceremonia de una boda española, que, aunque no brindara muchos motivos de los que se suponen que animan a la concurrencia, fue característica de la gente y de sus razones para unirse en santo matrimonio. Alonso, el novio feliz, tenía dieciséis años y era un lindo muchacho de mejillas sonrosadas. Sus amigos le propusieron como pareja idónea para la señora María Teresa, hija de mi casero, con la finalidad de evitar el riesgo de ser llamado a servir en el ejército. Los hombres casados estaban exentos de acudir a filas y todos los jóvenes de la localidad se casaban para evitar las levas de la Junta, así que, por miedo de la guerra, muchos se desposaban a edad muy temprana, o incluso siendo niños. Nuestro héroe no parecía estar muy interesado en la cuestión. Como era joven e ingenuo, la pasión del amor era bastante extraña a su corazón. Su prometida, Mariceta, una hermosa muchacha de dieciocho años, no era sin embargo de tal condición, pues al haber llegado ya a la edad de discernimiento, estaba mejor educada en toda esa clase de cosas y, en consecuencia, se mostró tan atractiva como pudo a los ojos de su joven novio. Apenas habían estado juntos antes del casamiento. Parece que habían dejado de lado el cortejo como aspecto superfluo del negocio y, puesto que los sabelotodo de la familia habían ajustado todo el asunto del matrimonio previamente, a aquellas pobres y leales víctimas no les quedaba otra cosa que hacer que continuar con lo que se les había ordenado.

Habiéndose reunido los amigos y conocidos (una cuadrilla de viejos y jóvenes de ambos sexos) además de una porción regular de clérigos, Alonso hizo su entrada vestido con un capote de un material tan cálido como para encender alguna llama en su helado

pecho, si es que en él pudiera haber algún ascua mortecina. Llevaba el pelo atado con cintas y su atuendo se completaba con un fajín. La guapa novia, a la que asistía su hermana Catalina, llegó poco después, ataviada con un vestido negro, que en estas ocasiones era costumbre llevar puesto a todas horas.

Luego llegó el reverendo padre y, sin dilación, comenzó los preparativos para remachar la cadena mediante la lectura de un libro enorme y negro a la luz de un cirio largo. Después de haber musitado algunos minutos en un tono hueco apenas audible, unió las manos de los contrayentes y luego impartió su última bendición, con lo que concluyó esta ceremonia tan importante. Una vez el venerable cura hubo otorgado su bendición a los invitados, todos tomaron asiento inmediatamente en sillas y bancos bajos a ambos lados de la estancia. La patrona, junto a las deidades que la ayudaban, se retiró a una alcoba contigua desde donde comenzaron a servir refrigerios de todas clases en platos grandes, que dos curas guapos y joviales repartían, y que al ofrecérselos a las encantadoras señoritas mostraban no poca galantería, lanzando cumplidos y palabras dulces que sus oídos complacientes aceptaban de buena gana.

Entretanto el pobre Alonso, sentado como si fuera la Paciencia, aunque no sonreía por la pena, daba la impresión, sin embargo, de querer estar en su casa con su madre, en vez de estar obligado a hacer semejante papel en la farsa. De vez en cuando la novia recatadamente ocultaba la cara y su sonrojo de las miradas groseras con un velo largo y negro del más delicado encaje.

Se pasaron bandejas con chocolate y dulces, y las damiselas hurtaban los trozos y se los guardaban en el bolsillo sin el menor remordimiento de conciencia. Hacia las nueve de la noche comenzó a disolverse la concurrencia. Con ello y con los saludos generales de todas las partes se terminó la más estúpida de las bodas estúpidas, mientras Alonso se iba tranquilamente a la casa de su padre, entre las sonrisas y los guiños de las solteronas envidiosas, al tiempo que su cara sposa se quedaba en casa con su bendita soltería soñando con la felicidad futura.

Mientras permanecimos en Don Benito, los naturales rivalizaron entre sí en su esfuerzo para ofrecer la mayor satisfacción a sus huéspedes, y entre los muchos medios con los que se empeñaron en distraernos estaban los bailes y otras fiestas.

Las reuniones solían tener lugar en los amplios aposentos de un edificio grande, residencia de un marqués, situado en la magnífica plaza. Las hijas de mi anfitrión, tan bellas y alegres, acudían regularmente a la sala de baile. Las acompañaba hasta allí un hombre alto de aspecto oscuro que en todas las ocasiones, en su calidad de acompañante oficial, tomaba a las damiselas bajo sus alas, y al avanzar recogía un refuerzo de viejos y jóvenes. A su llegada, el grupo, convertido en una multitud abigarrada de incondicionales, incluyendo criados y un séquito de seguidores, de los cuales muchos, bajo la pretensión de ser hermanos, amigos o familiares, se colaban sin estar invitados, dando empujones detrás de las señoras, sin modales, lo que provocaba considerable irritación en la parte respetable de la comitiva. En estas ocasiones las mujeres no se arreglan mucho. Únicamente se trenzan el cabello, o se echan una mantilla suelta por los hombros y el cuello, y se adornan los pies con un par de zapatos blancos o amarillos, para salir resueltamente con el mismo vestido que han llevado puesto todo el día.

Nos fuimos de Don Benito el 13 de septiembre, pasamos por las llanuras de Medellín y vadeamos el Guadiana como a una legua aguas arriba del puente.

viernes, 6 de junio de 2025

DON BENITO. IGLESIA DE SANTIAGO

 

Esta foto fue tomada en 1925 por el famoso arqueólogo y escritor José Ramón Mélida y Alinari. 


Analizaremos la transformación sufrida por la iglesia de Santiago desde entonces.


1.- Las antiguas escaleras de acceso a la iglesia por su puerta principal, conocidas como escalinatas del “velar”, arrancaban desde los contrafuertes, a diferencia de las actuales que están retranqueadas respecto a éstos.

 

Marcas de las antiguas escaleras de la puerta principal.
 

2.- La fachada principal estaba coronada por una espectacular espadaña, es la pared que se alza sobre el hastial de poniente del templo y tiene una serie de huecos donde van colocadas las campanas. Se observa también una pequeña cubierta interior, supongo que serviría para resguardar al campanero de las inclemencias del tiempo.




 

Fotos de la Plaza de España en los años 50 del siglo XX. Restauradas por DOVANE63

 

3.- El reloj no estaba situado en la torre, sino en el hastial de poniente, bajo la espadaña. Tuvo que ser retirado en el año 1887 para la reconstrucción de la torre. En 1965 fue colocado de nuevo en ella y allí estuvo hasta el año 2006 que fue retirado, actualmente este mecanismo se encuentra expuesto en el Museo Etnográfico de la localidad.

 

Reparación de la torre. Foto restaurada por DOVANE63

4.- La torre, reconstruida entre los años 1885 y 1887, era en ese tiempo de ladrillo visto, no contaba con el revestimiento de granito tan identificativo que podemos ver hoy, ya que fue realizado en el año 1965. 

Reparación de la torre. Foto restaurada por DOVANE63
 

Vemos en  las fotografías de abajo uno de los vértices por donde discurría la anterior torre demolida y que era un poco más grande.


 


 

5.- Los dos contrafuertes de la puerta principal no estaban coronados por pináculos.

 


 

 



6.- La hornacina de la puerta principal no contaba con la imagen, ya que la actual de la Inmaculada Concepción, obra del escultor dombenitense D. Pedro Torre Isunza, fue colocada en el año 1966.

 

Plaza de España 1939. Foto restaurada por DOVANE63


7.- Entre los dos primeros contrafuertes de la calle Villanueva, se aprecia una construcción cerrada, tras la guerra civil ese espacio lo ocupó la Capilla de Ánimas, hasta que en el año 2018 se instaló un cuadro que representa la Aparición de la Virgen de las Cruces, obra de grandes dimensiones del artista Javier Martín-Romo.

 



 

 Las rejas pertenecen a una capilla que estaba situada dentro de la iglesia, donada por la familia Sotomayor en el año 1632 según indican su lápida sepulcral en el suelo de esta capilla y las rejas.

 

 

 Por supuesto, bajo el escudo no hay sepultura, fue trasladada al lugar actual tras la guerra civil.

 


 


domingo, 1 de junio de 2025

Peace in War

 


Peace in War: British & Portuguese Troops in the Upper Floodplains

of the Guadiana River in March and September 1812

[Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen./Boa tarde, senhoras e senhores./

Buenas tardes, damas y caballeros.]

  

It´s a great delight for me to be here. I assume that I have been invited to this talk concerning the Peninsular War for my sins. In spite of that, I trust you may find it interesting. I also hope that you can excuse my errors and mistakes: since June 2019 I haven’t had the opportunity to speak in English.

 

Don Benito, Saint James's Parish Church, the only building still standing in the grand square, as it was in 1812


 

I understand that I am talking to an audience who have a good knowledge of the war. That is why I have chosen to speak not exactly about the war, but about peace, peace in the war, when officers liked to pose as travellers. I believe that the story I chose, among a few others, is rather amusing, quite apropriate for the occasion. 

 

Finally Don Benito, the place where Captain John Patterson, of the 50th (West Kent) Regiment of Foot, was billeted in March and September 1812, is a town in the area of the Guadiana river Upper Floodplains I feel very attached to. Captain Patterson wrote about his cantonment there in a journal called The Adventures of Captain John Patterson, with Notices of the Officers, &c. of the 50th, or Queen’s Own Regiment, from 1807 to 1821, which was published in 1837.

 

John Patterson's book title page


 

 

Concerning Don Benito, another British officer serving in the Royal Horse Artillery, Lieutenant William Swabey, who by that time was in Campanario wryly wrote in his diary on September 13th: To our great satisfaction came a route to Don Benito, a town which the highly coloured epithets of the Spaniards had made me think at least a second London. I was much disappointed. It is however a mart  for the few commodities that since the siege of Cadiz find their way to this part of Estremadura.

 

About how it all started

 

For quite a while now I have been reading and translating Peninsular War texts taken from letters, diaries, recollections, memoirs, biographies, etc. written by British soldiers, mainly officers, who fought in the Peninsula from 1808 to 1814.

In 2001 I was asked to write a part of the history of  Campanario, the town where I was born, from January 1789, when Charles IV was crowned King of Spain and the Indies, to the death of his son Ferdinand VII in September 1833. The History of Campanario, a rather voluminous book, was published at the end of 2003. 

Campanario is a small town in the east of the province of Badajoz, in the area of La Serena. It was founded in the 1230s, when the region was conquered by the Order of Alcántara, and Ferdinand III (the Saint) of Castille and León, awarded it to the knights of Alcántara in April 1234, which was good for the area as the Order tended to be a gentler lord, much less demanding, than the aristocracy or the high hierarchy of the Church.

 


 

Cross of the Order of Alcántara and coats of arms of  three of "las siete villas": Campanario, La Coronada and Magacela

I then searched several archives. To my surprise, in the local parish archives I found that on the 3rd of September, 1812, a Portuguese child had been baptized and named José. His parents were don Juan Evangelista Nogueira, lieutenant of the Portuguese 4th Cavalry Regiment, and doña Joaquina Angélica, both from Lisbon.

Also, in the parish archives of La Coronada, a town eight kilometres from Campanario, a friend of mine found that on the 10th of September 1812 a Portuguese soldier, Juan Pereira de Carvallo, of the second company of the 18th Regiment of Foot, had been buried in the parochial church of the town. He came from the parish of San Lorenzo Dames.

It seems that the town that the priest called San Lorenzo Dames was São Lourenço de Asmes, whose name at present is Ermesinde, in the municipality of Valongo, in the district of Porto.

Cavalry General Robert Ballard Long


 

I expected to see some entries about British troops in the area, but I could find none. A few years later I learnt that there was a whole British and Portuguese army corps around, together with a few thousand Spanish troops, too.

We have no time to talk about the movements of that corps but I can say for sure that there were several thousand troops in the areas of La Serena and the Upper Floodplains of the Guadiana river, in a line some thirty or forty kilometres long from one end to the other. Cavalry General Robert Ballard Long, for example, was in Campanario.

The reason why British soldiers don’t appear in the parish archives is probably because they had their own chaplains. Since 1810 Wellington made serious attempts to organize brigade chaplaincies and asked the Church of England for respectable chaplains. He distrusted the wave of evangelical “conversions” that was spreading in England at the time because with conversions came “enthusiasm”, the dread of all normal easy-going men, as Charles Oman puts it.

On this matter Sir Charles Oman points out: Wellington was a sincere believer in Christianity as presented by the Church of England, but he had not been in the least affected by recent evangelical developments, and his belief was of a rather dry and official sort; an officer who took to public preaching and the forming of religious societies was only two or three degrees less distasteful to him than an officer who was foul-mouthed in his language and openly contemned holy things.

 

Elvas in 1808 and 1812

 

Before we let Captain Patterson speak, let me dedicate a few words to Elvas, the fine town that is hosting us.



 

Cavalry General Charles William Stewart


 

 

The first mention on Elvas I have found belongs to cavalry General Charles William Stewart when, in charge of the Hussar Brigade, he arrived in Elvas coming from Vila Viçosa on the 5th of November 1808. He seemed quite pleased with the place and wrote:

 

We halted on the 5th at Elvas; and as we came in at an early hour of the day, such as felt disposed were enabled to take an accurate survey of that highly-striking place.


The first object which attracts the notice of a stranger here, is a magnificent aqueduct, measuring in altitude no less than one thousand feet. It rests upon three or four arches, raised one above the other, and is composed entirely of a remarkably fine and polished stone. In length it measures about three miles, and it conveys all the water which is used in the place to a cistern of such dimensions as to be capable of containing a sufficient supply for the inhabitants during six months. Of the town itself it may be sufficient to state that the streets are generally handsome,— the houses being all built with stone, and extremely neat in their appearance; but though surrounded by a wall, it is not a place of any great strength. It lies, indeed, at the foot of Fort La Lippe, and consequently at its mercy; and it is commanded by other heights, which overlook it from various quarters.

 

The Taj Mahal, by Charles Forrest, 1824


 

 

All right, but nearly four years of war later, things apparently had changed the town a little bit and definitely not for the best, if we have to credit the eyes and nose of the captain of the Buffs (the 3rd - East Kent -  Regiment of Foot) Charles Ramus Forrest, who, by the way,  was also an excellent painter, though it seems that he painted nothing in the Peninsula. His paintings are from India and Canada, where he was stationed after the Peninsular War. He arrived in Elvas on the 14th of April 1812 and wrote in his diary.

 

Elvas is allowed to be the dirtiest town in all Portugal and it certainly deserves that epithet being the filthiest place I ever was in all my life – the streets narrow and full of all kinds of offensive stuff and when it rains the entire street is a kennel ankle deep.


           

March 1812

 

Now let’s listen to what Captain Patterson has got to tell us about his first stay in Don Benito: 

Lieutenant-General Sir Rowland Hill ("Daddy Hill”)


 

As you know, when in March 16th, 1812, the Earl of Wellington’s army opened the first trenches before Badajoz, two independent covering forces were detached from the army. One of them, 19,000 strong was at the orders of Lieutenant-General Thomas Graham. The other one with 14,000 troops was under the command of Lieutenant-General Rowland Hill, whose purpose was to hold the French in check and to try to dislodge them from eastern and southern Estremadura towards Andalusia. It was formed by the British 2nd Division, John Hamilton’s Portuguese division, Robert Long’s British and John Campbell’s Portuguese cavalry, and about 5,000 Spanish troops from the old Estremaduran army.


John Patterson wrote:

 

We remained at Campo Maior until the 4th of November, and from thence marched to Portalegre and Alburquerque, at which latter town we took up our quarters on the 4th of March, 1812.

 

[...] From Alburquerque we again departed, and after various marchings and counter-marchings, we were at last conducted to Don Benito, where we arrived on the 22nd of March, having previously halted for a few days at Almendralejo.

 

Don Benito is a large town, with a population of about five-thousand souls, and is situated in the heart of a most productive country.

 

I was billetted on the house of Don Diego Ramírez, whose family consisted of four fat good looking damsels, two children, and his spouse, a garrulous matron, who was very officious on this occasion. I was ushered into a handsome and well furnished chamber, where I was immediately introduced to my worthy patron, a fine jolly old don; we seated ourselves round an ample brassiero, well stored with charcoal, and were soon engaged in noisy prattle and gossip, with a fluency worthy of the most experienced adepts in the science. According to custom, sundry good-humoured wenches attended at the sideboard, pouring out the limpid fluid to those who were inclined to qualify for the Temperance Society. Supper being introduced, Don Diego presided in the style of a true Major Domo. The feast consisted of a large dish of sallad and oil, with other ingredients; sweet meats in abundance supplied the place of more nutritious food; while, by way of interlude, sausages and garlick appeared, by which our olfactory nerves were agreeably regaled. These were followed by other varieties in the kickshaw line, and, in order to promote the hilarity of our carousals, wine of generous quality was freely served. The young senoras, too, were by no means shy of helping themselves to bumpers of that enlivening beverage, filled out in glasses of dimensions similar to our English tumblers. One of the damsels, named Margaritta, entertained the company with a few pleasant songs on the guitar, accompanied by the voice of her sister Francisca, while Dolores, a pretty little girl with black eyes, danced a bolero, twirling the castanets in a most bewitching style, to the delight and admiration of the joyous circle. The Spaniards seem, at all times, to have a soul for music, and chiefly do they love the plaintive strain, as sung by the peasant girls in their enchanting manner. They are extremely fond of the Scotch bagpipe, and when the Highland corps appeared among them, all ranks and ages ran to their doors and windows to listen with rapture to their piper Sandy, while he played along the streets.

Before the siege of Badajos commenced, the 2nd Division was ordered to march in the direction of that garrison, for the purpose of forming a part of the corps of observation, destined to counteract any interruption to our plans, which might be threatened by the Duke of Dalmatia, who at this time lay with his army in the neighbourhood of Seville, in Andalusia. The Divisions of Generals Hill and Graham were accordingly encamped in the woods before Talavera la Real, three leagues from Badajos, and on the left bank of the Guadiana.

 

 

Sir Rowland Hill's campaigns in Estremadura in 1812


 

 

September 1812

 

 

            When Wellington began his march upon Salamanca on 13th of June 1812 and came to defeat Marshal Marmont at the Arapiles on the 22nd of July, Rowland Hill’s corps was left in Estremadura with the instructions of diverting Marshal Soult as far as possible from sending troops northward. He had nearly 19,000 men at his command, about 7,500 were British and something over 11,000 men were Portuguese. He could also count on the nearly 4,000 Spanish troops (horse and foot) at the orders of General Morillo and Count Penne de Villemur.

 

            At first Hill had his headquarters in Almendralejo and the troops were cantoned in the centre of what today is the province of Badajoz.

 

 

Jean Baptiste Drouet, Count d'Erlon


 

 

            The French in Estremadura had a contingent that consisted of Drouet D’Erlon’s and Darricau’s infantry divisions, with Lallemand’s and Perreimond’s cavalry, altogether not more than 12,000 men. Since May D’Erlon had abandoned all southern and most of eastern Estremadura. He himself was lying at Azuaga and Fuente Obejuna, in the  province of Córdoba, while Darricau was more to the north, about Zalamea de la Serena.

 

            Though there were many movements in June, July and August, the lines did not change much, D’Erlon moving his troops in La Serena to raise requisitions. As far as I know there was only one combat of certain importance on the 11th of June, the skirmish of Maguilla, where General John “Black Jack” Slade’s cavalry was beaten by Lallemand’s men.


Everything changed after Marshal Soult ordered the dismantling of the Cadiz Lines, which finished on the 24th of August and decided to abandon Seville with the enormous booty he had been accumulating in three years of misrule. On the 26th of August the French troops in front of Hill suddenly vanished. Hill did not pursue D’Erlon because he has orders from Wellington to go up to the Tagus and join the main army.


            On the 1st of September we have Captain Patterson again approaching Don Benito. He wrote:

 

On the 1st of September, we again resumed our journey towards the interior; and, marching some hours before daylight, we arrived when it became clear, at La Hava. Our road, for the most part, lay over a country thinly planted with olive trees, but producing numerous fruitful vines. On approaching La Hava, the distant spires of Don Benito became discernible, and, on passing two leagues further, appeared the mountain of Marcella, upon the highest part of which stands the castle and village of Marcella. The former is an old fortified ruin, having a round tower in the centre, and the latter a poor miserable place, consisting of a few wretched hovels crowded together.

 

Like all the small towns, in this part of Spain, we found La Hava a collection of insignificant habitations, thrown into a groupe, without order or regularity, as if the place had suddenly dropped from the clouds; the chapel, as usual, in the centre, being the most prominent object in this confused assemblage of nondescript dwellings.

 

We entered Don Benito on the 4th of September, and, as we had been formerly quartered there, the inhabitants were kind and hospitable. In this instance, as weII as in every other, when we had occasion to make the observation, the Spaniards proved themselves a generous and friendly people, evincing in every possible way, and by every mark of good-will, the pleasure they experienced not only in seeing strangers but on the return of those whom they had known before, and who had at other times enjoyed theirhospitality. I was quartered at the house of Don Pedro Montenegro, a fat portly gentleman, who, with his family, exerted themselves to make my residence within their walls as agreeable as I could desire.

 

 

Magacela (John Patterson's Marcella). This was probably the view that Patterson had on his way to Don Benito


 

During our stay the ceremony of a Spanish wedding was performed in my quarters, which, though not affording much that was calculated to enliven the company assembled, was characteristic of the people, and their motives for entering into the holy state. AJonzo, the happy bridegroom, was a rosy cheeked comely boy of sixteen. His friends proposed him as a suitable match for Senora Maria Teresa, the daughter of my landlord, for the purpose of preventing his being liable to be called off to serve in the armies—married men being then exempt from the contributions required to fill up the ranks, all the youthful fellows in the neighbourhood espoused themselves in order to avoid the Junta's levies; so that many contracted an union at a very early age, or when mere children, for fear of the war.—Our hero did not appear to be much interested about the matter; young and simple, as he was, the passion of love was quite a stranger to his breast. His intended Mariceta, a fine girl of eighteen, was however of no such temperament, for having arrived at years of discretion she was better educated in all those sort of things, and consequently made herself as engaging as possible in the eyes of her juvenile bridegroom.—They were seldom together before their marriage; courtship seemed to be laid aside as a superfluous piece of business, and the whole affair of matrimony, being previously settled by the wiseacres of their families, the poor devoted victims had nothing to do but just get on as they were commanded.

 

The friends and acquaintances, consisting of a bevy of old and young of both sexes, together with a moderate share of clerigos, being assembled, Alonzo made his entrée clothed in a capote, of materials warm enough to raise a flame within his frigid breast, if there was even an expiring ember there. His hair was tied up with ribbons, and a sash completed his attire. The fair bride, attended by her sister Catalina, soon came after, dressed in sable robes, that being the costume worn at all times on these occasions.

 

The reverend priest followed, and without delay began to make his preparations for rivetting the chain by reading out of a huge black book, by the light of a long wax taper. Having muttered for some minutes, in a hollow tone scarcely audible, he joined their hands, then poured forth his last benediction, and so this important ceremony was concluded. After the venerable Father had bestowed his blessing on the guests around, all immediately resumed their places, on low forms and chairs on either side of the room. The Patrona, together with her assistant deities, retired to an adjoining alcoba, where they commenced serving out refreshments of all varieties upon large plates: these were handed about by a couple of jolly, good-looking padres, who, as they offered them to the lovely senoritas, showed no small degree of gallantry, passing off compliments and soft words highly acceptable to their willing ears.

 

Poor Alonzo, meanwhile, sat like Patience, and, though not smiling at grief, yet he looked very much as if he would rather be at home with his mother, than be brought to cut such a figure in the mummery. The bride, every now and then, modestly hid her face and blushes from the vulgar gaze, under a long black veil of the finest lace.

 

Chocolate and cakes were handed round, and the damsels pocketed the fragments, which they purloined without any remorse of conscience. About nine o'clock the company began to separate, and this most stupid of all stupid weddings was finished by a general salutation on all sides, and by Alonzo, amidst the smiles and winks of the envious spinsters, going off quietly to his father's, while his cara sposa remained at home in single blessedness, to dream of happiness yet to come.

 

While we remained at Don Benito, the natives vied with each other in their efforts to afford as much enjoyment as possible to their guests. Balls and other festivities were among the many sources by which they endeavoured to amuse us.

 

The assemblies were usually held in the spacious apartment of a large building, the residence of a marquis, and situated in the grand square. The fair and lively daughters of my host were regular attendants at the ball-room, and were escorted thither by a tall black looking man, who, in his official capacity of chaperon, on this and other occasions, took the damsels under his wing, and as he proceeded along collected a reinforcement of old and young; his party, by the time of their arrival, having accumulated to a motley crowd of votaries, including domestics and a train of followers: many of them under pretence of being brothers, friends or relations, intruded uninvited, pushing after the ladies without ceremony, to the no small annoyance of the respectable portion of the company. The women on those occasions make but few preparatory arrangements. After having merely plaited up the hair, or thrown a mantilla loosely across the neck and shoulders, and adorned the feet with a pair of white or yellow shoes, they sally forth in the same dress which they have worn during the day.

 

We departed from Don Benito on the 13th of September, and passing over the plains of Medellin, forded the Guadiana about a league above the bridge.

 

            That’s all. This was the end the end of the presence of Wellington’s troops, and the end of the war, in the territories that today make up the province of Badajoz. This army, however, would come back to the northwest of Estremadura (to part of the lands that today form the province of Cáceres) after the siege of Burgos to finally abandon the region in May 1813.