Spain, marched to relieve Almeida. His advance produced the battle of
Fuentes de Onoro, fought on the 5th of May, in which, after an obstinate
and sanguinary contest, they were repulsed, and again retreated.
Brennier, the governor of Almeida, then despairing of relief, blew up the
fortifications of the place, made his way, with little loss, through the
British lines, and rejoined Masséna. Ciudad Rodrigo was next blockaded,
but the French easily introduced convoys, and the blockade was abandoned.
Little progress was made in the south. Some smaller places Marshal
Beresford recovered; but he had scarcely invested Badajoz when the
approach of Soult, with a powerful army, obliged him to raise the siege.
He fought a battle at Albuera on the 16th of May. But the victory was
purchased by the loss of forty-five hundred British, killed and wounded,
out of six thousand, and twenty-six hundred Germans, Spaniards, and
Portuguese. Lord Wellington arrived in Beresford’s camp soon after the
battle, and Badajoz was besieged a second time under his own direction.
On the night of the 5th of June an attempt was made to storm. It failed;
was repeated two nights later, and again failed, both times with heavy
loss. Upon this second repulse, as the combined French armies, to the
amount of seventy thousand men, were approaching, Lord Wellington,
who had but fifty-six thousand, and was particularly inferior to his
adversaries in cavalry, raised the siege, and withdrew the troops to
a strong position, limiting himself, for the present, to the defence
of Portugal. No other war raged now to distract the attention of the
French emperor; but he did not again take the command of the peninsular
armies, and it is difficult to assign a valid reason for his conduct.
He contented himself with sending reinforcements to the extent of fifty
thousand men, naming Marmont, duke of Ragusa, to supersede Masséna, whose
conduct of the invasion of Portugal he of course blamed; and placing
Catalonia, like Aragon, under Suchet’s command, and also Valencia when he
should have conquered that province.
[Sidenote: [1811-1812 A.D.]]
Suchet had deserved this confidence: he had done more than any other
French general both to conquer Spain and to bend her to the yoke. Aragon
was tolerably submissive; Tarragona, the last fortress of Catalonia, fell
in June. Considering his work done in Catalonia, although guerilla bands
still occupied the mountain fastnesses, and the bold and able Sarsfield
watched every opportunity of directing them upon the French, Suchet next
invaded Valencia. He defeated several detachments of the Spanish army,
and on the 16th of October laid siege to Murviedro. Blake gave battle
on the 25th of October, and was defeated. Upon this disaster, Murviedro
capitulated, and Blake took another strong position to protect the
capital, Valencia, where Suchet, on the 26th of December, again defeated
him, driving him into Valencia. There Suchet besieged him, and compelled
him to capitulate on the 8th of January, 1812. This campaign, the most
successful the French had made in Spain since the first, Napoleon
rewarded by creating Suchet duke of Albuféra, and granting him the royal
domain of that name in Valencia, as an inalienable fief of the French
empire.
The dissensions with the colonies likewise diverted both the attention
and the resources of the Spanish government from the vigorous prosecution
of the war. In every American province insurrection now raged. In Mexico,
after a severe struggle, the Spaniards regained the ascendency. In South
America the insurgents everywhere prevailed, as will be described later
in the histories of Spanish America.
The year 1812 opened with an exploit, the brilliant rapidity of which
seems equally to have confounded the French and enraptured the Spaniards.
Lord Wellington had long been silently forwarding every preparation for
the siege of Ciudad Rodrigo. On the 8th of January, 1812, he suddenly
appeared before the place, invested it, and on the 19th the town was
stormed.[c] But throwing off the restraints of discipline, the British
troops committed frightful excesses; the town was fired in three or four
places, the soldiers menaced their officers and shot each other; many
were killed in the market-place, intoxication soon increased the tumult,
and at last, the fury rising to absolute madness, a fire was wilfully
lighted in the middle of the great magazine, by which the town would have
been blown to atoms but for the energetic courage of some officers and a
few soldiers who still preserved their senses.
To recompense an exploit so boldly undertaken and so gloriously finished,
Lord Wellington was created duke of Ciudad Rodrigo by the Spaniards,
earl of Wellington by the English, marquis of Torres Vedras by the
Portuguese.[b]
By disguising his designs, Lord Wellington hoped to master Badajoz like
Ciudad Rodrigo, before Soult and Marmont should have time to hear of
the siege, and unite their forces to raise it. On the 16th of March,
1812, Badajoz was invested. The works were hurried on with the diligence
already practised, and on the 24th an important fort was carried by
assault. On the 30th information was received that Soult was advancing
with his whole disposable force to raise the siege; that Graham and
Hill were retreating before him towards Albuera; that Marmont, taking
advantage of the allied army’s removal, had crossed the frontier,
blockaded Ciudad Rodrigo, masked Almeida, and marched southwards,
plundering and ravaging the country, as far as Castello Branco; and that
the cavalry and militia, left to observe him, had fallen back, the latter
upon the mountains, the former towards the Tagus. In consequence of this
threatening intelligence, the siege was pressed with increased ardour; on
the 6th of April three sufficient breaches were made; and on the night of
that day they were stormed.[c]
The account of this desperate attack is perhaps the most dramatic, and
is certainly the most famous, portion of Napier’s _History of the War
in the Peninsula_, which, as we have already stated, is regarded as the
most eminent military history in the English language. We quote herewith
the greater part of what is a masterwork of literature describing a
masterwork of heroism.[a]
NAPIER’S ACCOUNT OF THE ASSAULT ON BADAJOZ
[Sidenote: [1812 A.D.]]
Dry but clouded was the night, the air thick with watery exhalations
from the rivers, the ramparts and the trenches unusually still; yet a
low murmur pervaded the latter, and in the former lights were seen to
flit here and there, while the deep voices of the sentinels at times
proclaimed that all was well at Badajoz. The French, confiding in
Phillipon’s direful skill, watched from their lofty station the approach
of enemies whom they had twice before baffled, and now hoped to drive a
third time blasted and ruined from the walls. The British, standing in
deep columns, were as eager to meet that fiery destruction as the others
were to pour it down, and both were alike terrible for their strength,
their discipline, and the passions awakened in their resolute hearts.
Former failures there were to avenge, and on both sides leaders who
furnished no excuse for weakness in the hour of trial. The possession of
Badajoz had become a point of personal honour with the soldiers of each
nation, but the desire for glory with the British was dashed by a hatred
of the citizens on an old grudge; and recent toil and hardship with much
spilling of blood had made many incredibly savage; for these things
render the noble-minded indeed averse to cruelty but harden the vulgar
spirit: numbers also, like Cæsar’s centurion, who could not forget the
plunder of Avaricum, were heated with the recollection of Ciudad Rodrigo
and thirsted for spoil. Thus every spirit found a cause of excitement,
the wondrous power of discipline bound the whole together as with a band
of iron, and in the pride of arms none doubted their might to bear down
every obstacle that man could oppose to their fury.
At 10 o’clock, the castle, the San Roque, the breaches, the Pardaleras,
the distant bastion of San Vincente, and the bridge-head on the other
side of the Guadiana were to have been simultaneously assailed, and it
was hoped the strength of the enemy would shrivel within that fiery
girdle. But many are the disappointments of war. An unforeseen accident
delayed the attack of the 5th division, and a lighted carcass thrown from
the castle, falling close to the 3rd division, discovered their array and
compelled them to anticipate the signal by half an hour. Then, everything
being suddenly disturbed, the double columns of the 4th and light
divisions also moved silently and swiftly against the breaches, and the
guard of the trenches rushing forward with a shout encompassed the San
Roque with fire and broke in so violently that scarcely any resistance
was made. But a sudden blaze of light and the rattling of musketry
indicated the commencement of a more vehement combat at the castle.
There General Kempt--for Picton hurt by a fall in the camp, and expecting
no change in the hour, was not present--there Kempt, I say, led the 3rd
division. Having passed the Rivillas in single files by a narrow bridge
under a terrible musketry, he had reformed, and running up a rugged hill,
reached the foot of the castle, where he fell severely wounded, and as he
was carried back to the trenches met Picton, who was hastening to take
the command.
[Illustration: VIMEIRO]
Meanwhile the troops, spreading along the front, had reared their heavy
ladders, some against the lofty castle, some against the adjoining front
on the left, and with incredible courage ascended amidst showers of heavy
stones, logs of wood, and bursting shells rolled off the parapet, while
from the flanks the enemy plied his musketry with fearful rapidity, and
in front with pikes and bayonets stabbed the leading assailants or pushed
the ladders from the walls; and all this was attended with deafening
shouts and the crash of breaking ladders, and the shrieks of crushed
soldiers answering to the sullen stroke of the falling weights. Still
swarming round the remaining ladders those undaunted veterans strove
who should first climb, until all being overturned, the French shouted
victory, and the British, baffled but untamed, fell back a few paces
and took shelter under the rugged edge of the hill. There the broken
ranks were somewhat reformed, and the heroic Ridge, springing forward,
seized a ladder, and calling with stentorian voice on his men to follow,
once more raised it against the castle, yet to the right of the former
attack, where the wall was lower and an embrasure offered some facility.
A second ladder was soon placed alongside of the first by the grenadier
officer Canch, and the next instant he and Ridge were on the rampart, the
shouting troops pressed after them, the garrison, amazed and in a manner
surprised, were driven fighting through the double gate into the town,
and the castle was won. A reinforcement from the French reserve then came
up, a sharp action followed, both sides fired through the gate, and
the enemy retired; but Ridge fell, and no man died that night with more
glory--yet many died, and there was much glory.
All this time the tumult at the breaches was such as if the very
earth had been rent asunder and its central fires bursting upwards
uncontrolled. The two divisions had reached the glacis just as the firing
at the castle commenced, and the flash of a single musket discharged from
the covered way as a signal showed them that the French were ready; yet
no stir was heard and darkness covered the breaches. Some hay-packs were
thrown, some ladders placed, and the forlorn hopes and storming parties
of the light division, five hundred in all, descended into the ditch
without opposition; but then a bright flame shooting upwards, displayed
all the terrors of the scene. The ramparts, crowded with dark figures and
glistering arms, were on one side, on the other the red columns of the
British, deep and broad, were coming on like streams of burning lava; it
was the touch of the magician’s wand, for a crash of thunder followed,
and with incredible violence the storming parties were dashed to pieces
by the explosion of hundreds of shells and powder-barrels.
For an instant the light division stood on the brink of the ditch amazed
at the terrific sight, but then with a shout that matched even the sound
of the explosion the men flew down the ladders, or disdaining their aid
leaped reckless of the depth into the gulf below; and at the same moment,
amidst a blaze of musketry that dazzled the eyes, the 4th division came
running in and descended with a like fury. There were only five ladders
for the two columns which were close together, and a deep cut made in
the bottom of the ditch was filled with water from the inundation;
into that watery snare the head of the 4th division fell, and it is
said above a hundred of the fusiliers, the men of Albuera, were there
smothered. Those who followed checked not, but, as if such a disaster
had been expected, turned to the left and thus came upon the face of
the unfinished ravelin, which being rough and broken was mistaken for
the breach and instantly covered with men; yet a wide and deep chasm
was still between them and the ramparts, from whence came a deadly fire
wasting their ranks. Thus baffled they also commenced a rapid discharge
of musketry and disorder ensued. Now a multitude bounded up the great
breach as if driven by a whirlwind, but across the top glittered a range
of sword-blades, sharp-pointed, keen-edged on both sides, and firmly
fixed in ponderous beams chained together and set deep in the ruins; and
for ten feet in front the ascent was covered with loose planks studded
with sharp iron points, on which feet being set the planks moved and
the unhappy soldiers falling forward on the spikes rolled down upon
the ranks behind. Then the Frenchmen, shouting at the success of their
stratagem and leaping forward, plied their shot with terrible rapidity,
for every man had several muskets, and each musket in addition to its
ordinary charge contained a small cylinder of wood stuck full of wooden
slugs, which scattered like hail when they were discharged. Once and
again the assailants rushed up the breaches, but always the sword-blades,
immovable and impassable, stopped their charge, and the hissing shells
and thundering powder-barrels exploded unceasingly. Hundreds of men had
fallen, hundreds more were dropping, still the heroic officers called
aloud for new trials, and so furious were the men themselves that in one
of these charges the rear sometimes followed by many, sometimes by a few,
ascended the ruins; strove to push the foremost on to the sword-blades,
willing even to make a bridge of their writhing bodies, but the others
frustrated the attempt by dropping down; and men fell so far from the
shot, it was hard to know who went down voluntarily, who were stricken;
and many stooped unhurt that never rose again. Vain also would it have
been to break through the sword-blades, for the trench and parapet
behind the breach were finished, and the assailants, crowded into even a
narrower space than the ditch was, would still have been separated from
their enemies and the slaughter would have continued.
Order was impossible! Officers of all ranks, followed more or less
numerously by the men, were seen to start out as if struck by sudden
madness and rush into the breach. Colonel Macleod of the 43rd, a young
man whose feeble body would have been quite unfit for war if it had not
been sustained by an unconquerable spirit, when one behind him in falling
plunged a bayonet into his back, complained not but continuing his course
was shot dead within a yard of the sword-blades. Yet there was no want
of gallant leaders or desperate followers, until two hours passed in
these vain efforts had convinced the troops the breach of the Trinidad
was impregnable. Gathering in dark groups and leaning on their muskets,
they looked up with sullen desperation at the Trinidad; while the enemy,
stepping out on the ramparts and aiming their shots by the light of the
fire-balls which they threw over, asked as their victims fell, “Why did
they not come into Badajoz?” In this dreadful situation, while the dead
were lying in heaps and others continually falling, the wounded crawling
about to get some shelter from the merciless shower above, and withal a
sickening stench from the burned flesh of the slain, Captain Nicholas
was observed making incredible efforts to force his way with a few men
into the Santa Maria bastion; but when they had gained two-thirds of the
ascent a concentrated fire of musketry and grape dashed nearly the whole
dead to the earth: Nicholas was mortally wounded and the intrepid Shaw
stood alone. With inexpressible coolness he looked at his watch, and
saying it was too late to carry the breaches rejoined the masses at the
other attack. After this no further effort was made at any point, and the
troops remained passive but unflinching beneath the enemy’s shot which
streamed without intermission.
About midnight, when two thousand brave men had fallen, Wellington,
who was on a height close to the quarries, ordered the remainder to
retire and reform for a second assault; he had heard the castle was
taken, but, thinking the enemy would still resist in the town, was
resolved to assail the breaches again. This retreat from the ditch was
not effected without further carnage and confusion. All this time the
town was girdled with fire. Walker’s brigade, having passed on during
the feint on the Pardaleras, was escalading the distant bastion of San
Vincente. His troops had advanced along the banks of the river and
reached the French guard-house at the barrier-gate undiscovered, the
ripple of the waters smothering the sound of their footsteps; but just
then the explosion at the breaches took place, the moon shone out, the
French sentinels discovering the columns fired, and the British soldiers
springing forward under a sharp musketry began to hew down the wooden
barrier at the covered way. The Portuguese, panic-stricken, threw down
the scaling-ladders, the others snatched them up again and forcing the
barrier jumped into the ditch; but the guiding engineer officer was
killed, there was a _cunette_ which embarrassed the column, and the
ladders proved too short, for the walls were generally above thirty feet
high. The fire of the enemy was deadly, a small mine was sprung beneath
the soldiers’ feet, beams of wood and live shells were rolled over on
their heads, showers of grape from the flank swept the ditch, and man
after man dropped dead from the ladders.
Fortunately some of the defenders had been called away to aid in
recovering the castle, the ramparts were not entirely manned; and the
assailants, discovering a corner of the bastion where the scarp was only
twenty feet high, placed three ladders there under an embrasure which
had no gun and was only stopped with a gabion. Some men got up with
difficulty, for the ladders were still too short, and the first man who
gained the top was pushed up by his comrades and drew others after him
until many had won the summit; and though the French shot heavily against
them from both flanks and from a house in front, their numbers augmented
rapidly and half the 4th regiment entered the town itself to dislodge the
French from the houses, while the others pushed along the rampart towards
the breach and by dint of hard fighting successively won three bastions.
In the last of these combats Walker, leaping forward sword in hand at
the moment when one of the enemy’s cannoneers was discharging a gun,
was covered with so many wounds it was wonderful that he could survive,
and some of the soldiers immediately after, perceiving a lighted match
on the ground, cried out: “A mine!” At that word, such is the power
of imagination, those troops who had not been stopped by the strong
barrier, the deep ditch, the high walls and the deadly fire of the enemy,
staggered back appalled by a chimera of their own raising; and in this
disorder a French reserve under General Veillande drove on them with a
firm and rapid charge, pitching some men over the walls, killing others
outright, and cleansing the ramparts even to the San Vincente. There
however Leith had placed Colonel Nugent with a battalion of the 38th as
a reserve, and when the French came up, shouting and slaying all before
them, this battalion, two hundred strong, arose and with one close volley
destroyed them; then the panic ceased, the soldiers rallied, and in
compact order once more charged along the walls towards the breaches; but
the French, although turned on both flanks and abandoned by fortune, did
not yet yield.
Meanwhile the portion of the 4th regiment which had entered the town
was strangely situated. For the streets were empty and brilliantly
illuminated and no person was seen, yet a low buzz and whispers were
heard around, lattices were now and then gently opened, and from time
to time shots were fired from underneath the doors of the houses by the
Spaniards, while the troops with bugles sounding advanced towards the
great square of the town. In their progress they captured several mules
going with ammunition to the breaches; yet the square itself was as
empty and silent as the streets, and the houses as bright with lamps:
a terrible enchantment seemed to be in operation--they saw only an
illumination and heard only low whispering around them, while the tumult
at the breaches was like the crashing thunder. Plainly, however, the
fight was there raging, and hence, quitting the square, they attempted
to take the garrison in reverse by attacking the ramparts from the
town side; but they were received with a rolling musketry, driven back
with loss, and resumed their movement through the streets. At last the
breaches were abandoned by the French, other parties entered, desultory
combats took place, Veillande, and Phillipon who was wounded, seeing all
ruined, passed the bridge with a few hundred soldiers, and entered San
Christoval.
Now commenced that wild and desperate wickedness which tarnished the
lustre of the soldiers’ heroism. All indeed were not alike, hundreds
risked and many lost their lives in striving to stop the violence; but
madness generally prevailed, and as the worst men were leaders here, all
the dreadful passions of human nature were displayed. Shameless rapacity,
brutal intemperance, savage lust, cruelty and murder, shrieks and
piteous lamentations, groans, shouts, imprecations, the hissing of fires
bursting from the houses, the crashing of doors and windows, and the
reports of muskets used in violence, resounded for two days and nights
in the streets of Badajoz! On the third, when the city was sacked, when
the soldiers were exhausted by their own excesses, the tumult rather
subsided than was quelled: the wounded men were then looked to, the dead
disposed of. Five thousand men and officers fell in this siege, and of
these, including 700 Portuguese, 3,500 had been stricken in the assault,
60 officers and more than 700 men being slain on the spot. The five
generals, Kempt, Harvey, Bowes, Colville, and Picton were wounded, the
first four severely; 600 men and officers fell in the escalade of San
Vincente, as many at the castle, and more than 2,000 at the breaches,
each division there losing 1,200. And how deadly the breach strife was
may be gathered from this: the 43rd and 52nd regiments of the light
division lost more men than the seven regiments of the 3rd division
engaged at the castle.[121]
Let it be considered that this frightful carnage took place in a space of
less than a hundred yards square; that the slain died not all suddenly
nor by one manner of death--that some perished by steel, some by shot,
some by water, that some were crushed and mangled by heavy weights, some
trampled upon, some dashed to atoms by the fiery explosions; that for
hours this destruction was endured without shrinking, and the town was
won at last. Let these things be considered, and it must be admitted
a British army bears with it an awful power. And false would it be to
say the French were feeble men; the garrison stood and fought manfully
and with good discipline, behaving worthily: shame there was none
on any side. Yet who shall do justice to the bravery of the British
soldiers--the noble emulation of the officers? Who shall measure out
the glory of Ridge, of Macleod, of Nicholas, of O’Hare of the 95th,
who perished on the breach at the head of the stormers, and with him
nearly all the volunteers for that desperate service? Who shall describe
the springing valour of that Portuguese grenadier who was killed, the
foremost man at the Santa Maria; or the martial fury of that desperate
rifleman, who, in his resolution to win, thrust himself beneath the
chained sword-blades, and there suffered the enemy to dash his head to
pieces with the ends of their muskets? Who can sufficiently honour the
intrepidity of Walker, of Shaw, of Canch, or the hardiness of Ferguson
of the 43rd, who having in former assaults received two deep wounds was
here, his former hurts still open, leading the stormers of his regiment,
the third time a volunteer, the third time wounded? Nor would I be
understood to select these as pre-eminent; many and signal were the
other examples of unbounded devotion, some known, some that will never
be known; for in such a tumult much passes unobserved, and often the
observers fell themselves ere they could bear testimony to what they saw:
but no age, no nation ever sent forth braver troops to battle than those
who stormed Badajoz. When the extent of the night’s havoc was made known
to Lord Wellington, the firmness of his nature gave way for a moment, and
the pride of conquest yielded to a passionate burst of grief for the loss
of his gallant soldiers.[b]
BRITISH PROGRESS
One result of this triumph was the immediate and final retreat of the
French from Estremadura and Portugal. Marmont raised the blockade of
Ciudad Rodrigo, and fell back to Salamanca.
In Spain, the native leaders meanwhile continued their desultory warfare;
Lacy, Sarsfield, Rovira, Mina, and Porlier in the north, the Empecinado
and Sanchez in the Castiles, and Ballasteros in the south, gained
trifling advantages over the enemy in divers engagements; but for want
of concert no material result was obtained from their successes, whilst
Suchet made himself master of the whole kingdom of Valencia, with the
single exception of Alicante. In Tarifa, a town defended only by an old
wall, eighteen hundred English and Spanish troops, commanded by Colonel
Skerrett, repulsed ten thousand French led by the duke of Belluno in
person.[122]
Meanwhile General Hill had driven the French from Almaraz upon the Tagus,
and thus obtained possession of the only place through which the enemy’s
armies of Portugal and of the south could conveniently keep up their
communication across the river. The earl of Wellington then advanced
towards Salamanca on the 13th of June, 1812. He there, despite the
efforts of Marmont, reduced several very strong forts. Marmont retreated
to the Douro. A series of masterly manœuvres ensued, in which, during
six days, the contending generals displayed all the resources of their
art. The advantage in this pure trial of skill remained with the Briton,
who, on the 22nd of July, seizing upon a rash movement of Marmont’s,
instantly attacked him, and gained the splendid victory of Salamanca, in
which the French lost seven thousand prisoners, at least as many killed
and wounded, including three generals killed and four wounded, amongst
whom was Marmont himself, eleven pieces of artillery, and two eagles. The
loss of the allies amounted to fifty-two hundred killed and wounded, the
former including one general, the latter five.
Clausel, who upon Marmont’s being disabled, succeeded to the command,
rallied the routed army, and retreated to Burgos. Wellington pursued
him as far as Valladolid, and then turning southwards, marched upon
Madrid. Joseph had not above twenty thousand men for the defence of his
capital; he abandoned it at the approach of the allies; but weakened
himself by leaving a garrison of two thousand men in a fortress adjoining
the palace of Buen Retiro. They capitulated on the approach of the
British. Lord Wellington entered Madrid on the 12th of August, and was
received with every demonstration as the deliverer of Spain. The new
constitution was proclaimed in the capital, and sworn to with eager
zeal. And now the exploits and services of the British general had at
length so far conquered Spanish jealousy that the cortes named the duke
commander-in-chief of the Spanish forces.
Soult raised the blockade of Cadiz on the 25th, and united with Suchet.
He left, however, a garrison in Seville, which fell into the hands of
the English and Spanish troops on the 27th. Joseph, on the advance of
Hill, retreated in the same direction, and Andalusia was again freed
from the presence of the invaders. But the position of Lord Wellington
at Madrid, which had already produced most of the expected advantages,
was becoming dangerous. He was disappointed of the diversions upon
which he had relied. Maitland’s army proved too weak, amounting only to
six thousand men, to attempt a landing in Catalonia. It was therefore
directed to Alicant, where the Anglo-Sicilian army necessarily remained
in garrison. Wellington quitted Madrid on the 1st of September, to march
against Burgos, leaving half his army under Hill to observe Soult, and if
possible defend Madrid. The English troops that had garrisoned Cadiz now
joined the army.
[Illustration: SEGOVIA]
The French retreated as the allies advanced. On the 19th, Lord Wellington
occupied Burgos, and laid siege to the castle. Here the deficiency of
means proved more detrimental than ever, rendering it impossible to
conquer the science and courage displayed in the defence, or to prevent
the approach of Souham with all the disposable French force in the north
of Spain. Lord Wellington, on the 22nd of October, judged it expedient
to raise the siege, and take up his winter quarters on the Portuguese
frontier. About the same time, Joseph and Soult advancing upon Madrid,
Hill in obedience to his instructions, retreated to Salamanca, where, on
the 3rd of November, he joined Lord Wellington. On the 24th, the troops
went into cantonments along the frontier line, headquarters being fixed
at Freynada. It is mortifying to be compelled to add that, leisurely as
was this retreat, and untroubled by aught save very wet weather, the
troops, dispirited by their failure before Burgos, discovered much of the
disorder and insubordination that had marked Sir John Moore’s retreat to
Corunna.[c]
NAPIER’S ACCOUNT OF THE RETREAT
Drunkenness and insubordination were exhibited at Torquemada, where the
great wine-vaults were invaded, and twelve thousand men were at one time
in a state of helpless inebriety. The negligence of many medical and
escorting officers conducting the convoys of the sick, and the consequent
bad conduct of the soldiers (for where the officers are careless the
soldiers will be licentious) produced the worst effects. Outrages were
perpetrated on the inhabitants along the whole line of march, terror was
everywhere predominant, the ill-used drivers and muleteers deserted,
some with, some without their cattle. The commissariat lost nearly all
the animals and carriages employed, the villages were abandoned, and the
under-commissaries were bewildered or paralysed by the terrible disorder
thus spread along the line.
The rest of the retreat being unmolested was made with more regularity,
but the excesses still committed furnished glaring evidence that the
moral conduct of a general cannot be fairly judged by following in the
wake of a retreating army. There was no want of provisions, no hardships
to exasperate the men, and yet the author of this history counted on the
first day’s march from Madrid seventeen bodies of murdered peasants; by
whom killed, or for what, whether by English or Germans, by Spaniards,
or Portuguese, in dispute, in robbery, or in wanton villany was unknown;
but their bodies were in the ditches, and a shallow observer might thence
have drawn foul and false conclusions against the English general and
nation. The Spaniards, civil and military, evinced hatred of the British.
Daily did they attempt or perpetrate murder. The civil authorities, not
less savage, were more insolent than the military, treating every British
person with an intolerable arrogance. The whole loss of the double
retreat cannot be set down at less than nine thousand, including the loss
in the siege.
When the campaign terminated, Wellington, exasperated by the conduct
of the army and the many crossings he had experienced during the
campaign, gave vent to his indignation in a circular letter addressed
to the superior officers. In substance it declared that discipline had
deteriorated during the campaign in a greater degree than he had ever
witnessed or ever read of in any army, and this without any disaster, any
unusual privation or hardship save that of inclement weather; that the
officers had lost all command over their men, and excesses, outrages of
all kinds and inexcusable losses had occurred; that no army had ever made
shorter marches in retreat or had longer rests--no army had ever been so
little pressed by a pursuing enemy; and this unhappy state of affairs
was to be traced to the habitual neglect of duty by the regimental
officers.[b]
AFFAIRS OF 1812-1813
[Sidenote: [1812-1813 A.D.]]
The year 1812 saw everywhere the beginning of the reverses which
overthrew the colossal empire of Bonaparte. There was nothing to
counterbalance the exultation excited in Spain by these frightful
reverses of her unrelenting foe, except the continuance of the
dissensions with the colonies. The prince of Brazil, who had previously
created Lord Wellington count of Vimeiro and marquis of Torres Vedras,
now conferred upon him the title of duke of Victoria, in commemoration of
his many victories; and it might also have seemed in anticipation of the
most decisive of his peninsular battles. The allied armies were now, for
the first time, about to take the field under favourable circumstances;
and he, whose genius had hitherto been severely tried in contending with
and surmounting every species of obstacle, might hope to pursue that
more dazzling career of glory which silences the cavils of envy and
of ignorance. The resources of the peninsula, such as they were, were
placed at his disposal. What was of more consequence, the French emperor,
instead of constantly pouring reinforcements into Spain in numbers that
almost seemed to render Lord Wellington’s victories barren triumphs, was
compelled to withdraw thence many troops. Soult, with thirty thousand
veterans, was recalled from Spain.
The complicated arrangements requisite to bring so variously composed an
army into activity, delayed Lord Wellington’s opening the campaign until
the middle of May; when he took the field at the head of nearly seventy
thousand men, English and Portuguese, independently of the Spanish army
of Galicia under Castaños on his left, and another on his right under Don
Carlos de España. The French had still 160,000 men in Spain; and as many
of these as were not engaged in the eastern provinces under Suchet, or
employed in garrison duty, were stationed around Madrid and between the
capital and the Douro.
Lord Wellington ordered General Murray to remove his troops by sea
to Catalonia, in order both to relieve Valencia by drawing Suchet
northwards, and to be nearer the scene of the principal operations, and
sent Sir Thomas Graham, with the left wing of the army, to cross the
Douro within the limits of Portugal, and thus turn a perhaps impregnable
position, whilst he himself with the centre, and Sir Rowland Hill
with the right, advanced towards it in front, driving before them all
detachments from the army of Portugal, as it was still termed, that were
stationed south of the Douro. The manœuvre seems to have confounded the
enemy. The army of Portugal retreated. Joseph and Jourdan collected the
army of the centre, and evacuating Madrid, hastened to join the army
of Portugal near Burgos. Joseph fell back to Vitoria, the principal
depot of the French in the northern provinces; there he halted, drew up
his army in battle array, and prepared to make a last struggle for his
crown. It is said that the French occupied the very ground on which, in
the fourteenth century, the Black Prince had defeated Du Guesclin and
recovered the Castilian crown for Don Pedro.
Lord Wellington on the 21st of June, 1813, attacked. The Spaniards
fought with a courage that proved their former panics and failures to
have been mainly attributable to want of confidence in their commanders
and their comrades. The French wings were first assailed and driven
back. Then, when their formidably posted centre had been weakened to
support the wings, and was, besides, threatened on the flanks, that too
was assailed and carried. The French had never before been so utterly
routed. The whole army dispersed and fled; Joseph narrowly escaped being
taken prisoner; artillery, baggage, everything upon which the existence
of an army depends fell into the hands of the victors, as well as the
wives of many of the French superior officers, and the marshal’s staff
of Jourdan. The victory was actively followed up; most of the French
garrisons were taken, or surrendered upon being summoned; the remaining
French detachments, by a series of nearly bloodless manœuvres, were
driven across the Pyrenees; and by the 7th of July no part of Joseph’s
army remained in Spain except the garrisons of Pamplona and San Sebastian.
Suchet’s was now the only French army in Spain, and his force remained
unbroken in the eastern provinces, opposed to Sir John Murray. That
general was conveyed with his troops by a British fleet from Alicante
to the Catalan coast, and landing, on the 3rd of June, near Tarragona,
immediately invested that town. He had made little progress with
the siege when Suchet’s advance from Valencia was announced. Murray
re-embarked his troops with such precipitation, although Suchet was some
marches distant, that he left his artillery and stores behind. But the
news of the battle of Vitoria and its consequences determined Suchet to
abandon that province and concentrate his troops in Catalonia. Aragon was
freed, and Mina had the gratification of recovering the heroic Saragossa
from her conquerors.
When Napoleon received the tidings of the battle of Vitoria and its
disastrous results to his brother’s hopes, he sent back Soult to resume
the command from which he had taken him; to collect reinforcements,
reorganise the fugitive army, raise the sieges of Pamplona and San
Sebastian, and, in conjunction with Suchet, drive the British out of
Spain. To enable him to effect these objects, he named him imperial
lieutenant in Spain, giving him authority far beyond what had ever before
been intrusted to any marshal. Soult took the field at the head of nearly
one hundred thousand men, endeavouring to break through the extremity
of the British line, in order to relieve Pamplona. The French marshal’s
first measures seemed to promise him success. On the 25th of July, 1813,
with about fifty thousand men, he attacked two separate posts held by
divisions of the right wing under Sir Rowland Hill. The allies fought
obstinately, but were obliged to give way. On the 26th Lord Wellington
arrived on the scene of action, immediately resolving to give battle for
the protection of the blockade of Pamplona. The French were defeated
in two successive engagements on the 30th and 31st, after which Soult
retreated into France. On the 1st of August the allied troops resumed
their former positions amidst the Pyrenees.
The two sieges proceeded; but the provisions in Pamplona still held
out: the fortifications of San Sebastian were admirable, the approaches
difficult, and the garrison defended itself pertinaciously. When the town
was taken (August 31), the siege, and especially the assault, had cost
great numbers of lives--nearly four thousand; and the troops, infuriated
by the loss of their comrades and their own danger, could not be
restrained by the few surviving officers of the storming party, or even
taught to discriminate between friends and foes, Spaniards and French.
Greater outrages are said to have been committed upon the inhabitants
of San Sebastian than in any other town taken by the allies; and it was
longer ere the generals could restore order.[123]
The surrender of Pamplona set the allied forces at liberty, and Lord
Wellington immediately determined to advance into France, leaving Suchet
and his corps to the care of the Catalans, assisted by the Anglo-Sicilian
army. In beginning his operations upon the enemy’s territory, one of
the first cares of the British commander was to repress the ferociously
vindictive temper of his Spanish and Portuguese troops, who longed to
retaliate upon the French nation the injuries and outrages they had
suffered from the French soldiery. At first it was found impossible
altogether to control this disposition, in which the native officers but
too much sympathised with their men. But the firmness and severity with
which such offences were punished soon introduced a better temper.
On the 10th of November, 1813, Soult’s line of defence was attacked,
and notwithstanding the great pains bestowed upon strengthening it, was
forced; fifteen hundred prisoners and fifty guns fell into the victor’s
hands, besides quantities of stores. On the 9th of December hostilities
were renewed. The allied armies drove the French back into the intrenched
camp they had prepared close to Bayonne, and Soult, by attacking, after
five days of almost incessant fighting, in which the loss was necessarily
great (five thousand of the allies, and far more of the French were
killed or wounded), retreated into his intrenched camp. The weather
was still very severe, and Lord Wellington therefore again cantoned
his troops, but upon a more advanced line, and both armies passed the
remainder of the month in repose.
Whilst Lord Wellington, with those forces, for whom, as for their leader,
Napoleon had professed such superlative disdain, was thus penetrating
into France, the situation of the French emperor had undergone many
changes. It was at Leipsic, October 16th, 1813, that the battle, fatal
to his hopes of maintaining his sovereignty over Germany, was fought.
Every German state, including the whole Confederation of the Rhine, had
now thrown off allegiance to Napoleon. The allied sovereigns advanced to
the banks of the Rhine. There they halted for the remainder of the year,
satisfied with their achievements, and willing to give Napoleon, whom
they still feared, an opportunity for negotiation. Wellington and his
army alone, of the hostile forces, wintered in France.
RETURN OF THE BOURBONS
Napoleon saw that to recover all he had lost, or even to keep all he
yet retained, was, for the moment at least, impossible; and he resolved
to relax his grasp in that quarter, where renunciation of his now vain
pretensions need not induce the abandonment of real power. He opened
a negotiation with the prince to whom, as he believed, he could still
dictate the terms of the treaty to be concluded--namely, the captive of
Valençay, Ferdinand VII.
Since the seizure of the Spanish royal family at Bayonne, they had pretty
much vanished from public view. The old king and queen, with their
favourite, Godoy, had been transferred to Rome, where they vegetated
contentedly upon the ample pension assigned them. The queen of Etruria,
whose feelings appear to have been somewhat livelier than those of
her kindred, had incurred Napoleon’s anger by an abortive attempt at
escaping to England, and was strictly immured in a convent at Rome, with
her daughter; her son, the dethroned king, being taken from her, and
committed to the care of her parents. Ferdinand remained at Valençay.
He had written a letter of congratulation to Joseph Bonaparte upon his
accession to the Spanish throne. He repeatedly addressed to Napoleon
congratulations on his victories. When a scheme for his liberation was
devised by the British cabinet--partly through compassion but chiefly
under an idea that the presence of an acknowledged king would put an end
to the factions and jealousies that distracted the Spanish councils,
thwarted Lord Wellington’s designs, and impeded his progress--Ferdinand
not only refused to escape, but denounced the attempt to Napoleon, and
took the opportunity to renew his often rejected request that he might be
adopted into the imperial family, by receiving the hand of a Bonaparte
princess. He was further said to employ his time in embroidering a robe
for some image of the Virgin. But the stories were regarded as calumnious
inventions, propagated for the purpose of lowering Ferdinand’s character
in general estimation; and the imprisoned king remained as before an
object of loyal veneration, of esteem, and pity.
[Sidenote: [1813-1814 A.D.]]
Immediately on reaching Paris, after his calamitous retreat from Leipsic,
Napoleon addressed a letter to Ferdinand, telling him that England was
endeavouring to overthrow the monarchy and nobility of Spain, in order
to establish a republic in that country, and offering him his liberty,
together with the alliance of France, that he might return to Spain,
and put an end to the disorders now convulsing the kingdom and further
menacing it. After a little delay and negotiation Ferdinand yielded. On
the 11th of December, 1813, a treaty was signed at Valençay, by which
he was recognised as king of Spain and the Indies, all old treaties
and alliances between France and Spain were revived and confirmed,
and Ferdinand undertook for the immediate evacuation of Spain and her
dependencies by the English. Even this treaty, however, Ferdinand
referred to the approbation and sanction of the regency and the cortes;
and San Carlos was despatched with a copy of it to Madrid, whither the
seat of government was now transferred from Cadiz.
On the 8th of January, 1814, the regency through its president, the
cardinal de Bourbon, addressed a respectful answer to the king, in
which they assured him of their joy at the prospect of his majesty’s
approaching liberation, but returned the treaty unratified, and
transmitted copies of the law, and of the treaty with England, which
prevented its ratification.
Towards the middle of February, 1814, the weather improved, and Lord
Wellington drew his troops from their cantonments. By a series of
able manœuvres, and of engagements ending with the well-contested and
brilliant victory of Orthez, gained on the 27th of February, he drove
Soult successively from post to post, through a country of peculiar
difficulty, and abounding in strong defensive positions, of which the
French marshal skilfully endeavoured to avail himself, but was uniformly
foiled by the superior skill of his British competitor. Sir John Hope
lay before Bayonne with the left wing. By the help of an English
squadron, under Admiral Penrose, the close investment of Bayonne laid
open the direct road to Bordeaux, and on the 8th of March Wellington sent
Beresford with fifteen thousand men to make himself master of that town.
Beresford was accompanied by the duke of Angoulême, as a royalist party
with the mayor at their head were well known to be anxiously expecting
the prince. The French garrison evacuated the town as the allied troops
approached, and the inhabitants, assuming the white cockade, and
receiving the prince with enthusiastic loyalty, proclaimed Louis XVIII.
Lord Wellington, recalling Beresford, recommenced his operations against
Soult. On the 18th they began their movement up the Adour, the French
retiring before them. On the 19th, Soult was driven from Vic-en-Bigorre,
and on the 20th from Tarbes, when he retreated upon Toulouse.
Whilst Ferdinand’s allies and subjects were thus progressively triumphing
over his oppressor, the captive prince had regained his liberty.
Napoleon, finding that no treaty concluded with the king of Spain, whilst
his prisoner, would be acknowledged by the nation as valid, on the 14th
of March released him unconditionally, as the only remaining chance of
detaching Spain from England, and recovering his former influence over
that country. Ferdinand was conducted to Perpignan, and there, on the
19th of March, delivered over to the care of Suchet, who was to make
arrangements, under the royal guarantee, for the safe return of the
different French garrisons, spread over the eastern coast of Spain, to
his army, upon their surrendering to the king the fortresses they still
held. Ferdinand, on the 24th, was received by Copons and throngs of his
native subjects, who had flocked from every place within reach, to greet
the return of their beloved sovereign. Ferdinand’s signature having,
however, by the then law of the land, no authority until he should have
taken the oath prescribed by the constitution, Suchet’s object was
unattained. The surrender of the fortresses, and the safe passage of the
garrisons still remained to be negotiated betwixt him and Copons; and
before they had brought it to a conclusion, the progress of events in
France rendered all arrangements of the kind unnecessary.
Lord Wellington had not allowed Soult time to receive the accession
of strength he expected from the result of Suchet’s negotiations. He
followed him to Toulouse, forced the passage of the Garonne, and on the
10th of April, 1814, under the walls of the city, gained the last victory
of this war, in the battle of Toulouse. Soult retired into the town,
which, upon Wellington’s preparing to invest it, he evacuated on the
night of the 12th, the allied army permitting him to withdraw unmolested.
The next day they took possession of the city, where they were received
with every demonstration of joy, and the inhabitants proclaimed Louis
XVIII. It was the last occasion upon which the act could have the grace
of a spontaneous impulse of the people.
The allied armies appeared before the French capital. Maria Louisa,
with her son, and the ministry, had fled to Blois. Joseph followed the
empress, and Paris capitulated. On the 31st of March Alexander and
Frederick William had entered the city at the head of their troops.
Napoleon gave way; and abdicated unconditionally. The title and rank
of emperor were, in return, confirmed to him, although his empire was
limited to the tiny island of Elba. The Bourbons were now restored to
their long lost throne; and peace was re-established throughout Europe.
Lord Wellington, like the rest of the allies, now of course evacuated the
French territory, and dissolved his mixed army, the British, Spanish, and
Portuguese.[c]
ENGLAND’S SHARE IN THE WAR
Napoleon’s enormous armies had been so wonderfully organised that they
existed and fought in Spain for six years, and without cessation; for
to them winters and summers were alike; they endured incredible toils
and privations, yet were not starved out, nor were their small armies
beaten by the Spaniards. And for their daring and resource a single fact
recorded by Wellington will suffice. They captured more than one strong
place in Spain without any provision of bullets save those fired at them
by their enemies, having trusted to that chance when they formed the
siege! Before the British troops they fell; but how horrible was the
struggle, how many defeats they recovered from, how many brave men they
slew; what changes and interpositions of fortune occurred before they
could be rolled back upon their own frontiers! And this is the glory of
England, that her soldiers and hers only were capable of overthrowing
them in equal battle. What battle except Baylen did the peninsulars
win? What fortress did they take by siege? What place defend? Sir
Arthur Wellesley twice delivered Portugal. Sir John Moore’s march to
Sahagun saved Andalusia and Lisbon from invasion at a critical moment.
Sir Arthur’s march to Talavera delivered Galicia. Graham saved Cadiz.
Smith saved Tarifa. Wellington recaptured Ciudad and Badajoz, rescued
Andalusia from Soult and Valencia from Suchet; the Anglo-Sicilian army
preserved Alicante, and finally recovered Tarragona and Barcelona under
the influence of the northern operations, which at the same time reduced
Pamplona and San Sebastian. England indeed could not alone have triumphed
in the struggle, but for her share let this brief summary speak:
She expended more than £100,000,000 [$500,000,000] on her own operations,
she subsidised both Spain and Portugal, and with her supplies of
clothing, arms, and ammunition maintained the armies of each, even to
the guerillas. From thirty up to seventy thousand British troops were
employed by her; and while her naval squadrons harassed the French with
descents upon the coasts, and supplied the Spaniards with arms and stores
and money after every defeat, her land-forces fought and won nineteen
pitched battles and innumerable combats, made or sustained ten sieges,
took four great fortresses, twice expelled the French from Portugal,
preserved Alicante, Cartagena, Tarifa, Cadiz, Lisbon; they killed,
wounded, and took two hundred thousand enemies. And the bones of forty
thousand British soldiers lie scattered on the plains and mountains of
the peninsula. For Portugal she reorganised a native army and supplied
officers who led it to victory; and to the whole peninsula she gave a
general whose like has seldom gone forth to conquer. And all this and
more was necessary to redeem that land from France!
NAPIER’S ESTIMATE OF WELLINGTON
Wellington met the peculiar difficulties which attend generals controlled
by politicians. An English commander dare not risk much, when one
disaster will be his ruin at home; his measures must be subordinate to
his primary consideration. Wellington’s caution, springing from that
source, had led friends and foes alike into wrong conclusions as to his
system of war: the French call it want of enterprise, timidity; the
English have denominated it the Fabian system. These are mere phrases.
His system was the same as that of all great generals. He held his army
in hand, keeping it with unmitigated labour always in a fit state to
march or to fight, and acted indifferently as occasion offered on the
offensive or defensive, displaying in both a complete mastery of his art.
That he was less vast in his designs, less daring in execution, neither
so rapid nor so original a commander as Napoleon, must be admitted; and
being later in the field of glory it is presumed he learned something
of the art from the greatest of all masters. Yet something besides the
difference of genius must be allowed for the difference of situation;
Napoleon was never, even in his first campaign of Italy, so harassed by
the French as Wellington was by the English, Spanish, and Portuguese
governments; their systems of war were however alike in principle, their
operations being only modified by their different political positions.
Great bodily exertion, unceasing watchfulness, exact combinations
to protect their flanks and communications without scattering their
forces--these were common to both; in defence firm, cool, enduring, in
attack fierce and obstinate; daring when daring was politic, yet always
operating by the flanks in preference to the front; in these things they
were alike: in following up a victory the English general fell short
of the French emperor. The battle of Wellington was the stroke of a
battering-ram--down went the wall in ruins; the battle of Napoleon was
the swell and dash of a mighty wave before which the barrier yielded and
the roaring flood poured onwards covering all.
But there was nothing of timidity or natural want of enterprise to be
discerned in the English general’s campaigns. Neither was he of the
Fabian school. He recommended that commander’s system to the Spaniards,
he did not follow it himself; his military policy more resembled that of
Scipio Africanus. Wellington was never loath to fight when there was any
equality of numbers. Slight therefore is the resemblance to the Fabian
warfare. And for the Englishman’s hardiness and enterprise, bear witness
the passage of the Douro at Oporto, the capture of Ciudad Rodrigo, the
storming of Badajoz, the surprise of the forts at Mirabete, the march to
Vitoria, the passage of the Bidassoa, the victory of the Nivelle, the
passage of the Adour below Bayonne, the fight of Orthez, the crowning
battle of Toulouse! To say that he committed faults is only to say that
he made war; to deny him the qualities of a great commander is to rail
against the clear midday sun for want of light. Iron hardihood of body,
a quick and sure vision, a grasping mind, untiring power of thought, and
the habit of laborious minute investigation and arrangement--all these
qualities he possessed, and with them that most rare faculty of coming to
prompt and sure conclusions on sudden emergencies. This is the certain
mark of a master-spirit in war.[b]
FOOTNOTES
[113] [“Though of short duration the resistance of Valencia is nothing
less than marvellous,” says the count de Toreño.[f] “She had no soldiers
for the defence, her ordinary garrison having been ordered to different
places, no experienced leaders, none but subalterns to lead the
courageous peasants. The French lost two thousand men, amongst whom were
Cazal, general of engineers, and other officers of high rank. Sheltered
by their walls and batteries the Spaniards had but few comrades to mourn,
and no person of importance.”]
[114] [These are Napier’s words in dedicating his great work to
Wellington.]
[115] The author’s eldest brother; he was said to be slain. When the
French renewed the attack on Elvina, he was somewhat in advance of that
village, and alone, for the troops were scattered by the nature of
the ground. Being hurt in the leg, he endeavoured to retire, but was
overtaken, and thrown to the ground with five wounds; a French drummer
rescued him, and when a soldier with whom he had been struggling made a
second attempt to kill him, the drummer once more interfered. The morning
after the battle Marshal Soult sent his own surgeon to Major Napier,
and, with a kindness and consideration very uncommon, wrote to Napoleon,
desiring that his prisoner might not be sent to France, which from the
system of refusing exchanges would have ruined his professional prospect;
the drummer also received the cross of the Legion of Honour. When the
2nd corps quitted Corunna, Marshal Soult recommended his prisoner to
the attention of Marshal Ney. The latter, treating him rather with the
kindness of a friend than the civility of an enemy, lodged him with the
French consul, supplied him with money, gave him a general invitation
to his house, and not only refrained from sending him to France, but
when by a flag of truce he knew that Major Napier’s mother was mourning
for him as dead, he permitted him, and with him the few soldiers taken
in the action, to go at once to England, merely exacting a promise that
none should serve until exchanged. I would have not touched at all upon
these private adventures, were it not that gratitude demands a public
acknowledgment of such generosity, and that demand is rendered more
imperative by the after misfortunes of Marshal Ney. That brave and
noble-minded man’s fate is but too well known. He who had fought five
hundred battles for France, not one against her, was shot as a traitor!
Could the bitterest enemy of the Bourbons have more strongly marked the
difference between their interests and those of the nation?
[116] [As Napier[b] points out, however, though the Spanish glorify
this siege and called Saragossa “Spain,” for her bravery: “Deprive the
transaction of its dazzling colours, and it shows thus: Thirty-five
thousand French, in the midst of insurrections, and despite of
circumstances peculiarly favourable to the defence, reduced fifty
thousand of the bravest and most energetic men in Spain. The latter
suffered nobly, but was their example imitated? Gerona indeed, although
less celebrated, rivalled, perhaps more than rivalled, the glory of
Saragossa; elsewhere her fate spoke, not trumpet-tongued to arouse, but
with a wailing voice that carried dismay to the heart of the nation.”]
[117] [Napier[b] thus pungently sums up Cuesta: “Cuesta’s knowledge of
both friend’s and enemy’s strength and positions was always inaccurate
and his judgment false; he never gained a decisive action, and lost every
army he commanded.”]
[118] [Lafuente[e] gives the following incidents of the siege of Gerona:
“The holy patron of the town, St. Narcissus, was named generalissimo,
it being to his protection and intercession that the devout residents
attributed their safety in the attacks and dangers of the wars of past
times. Of the 900 men who garrisoned the fortress of Monjuich 511
soldiers and 18 officers had perished, and nearly all the rest were
wounded before it was abandoned. It cost the French 3,000 men to conquer
the ruins. Whenever the limited number of the garrison permitted, Alvarez
ordered sallies to be made by small bodies of men. It is related how,
on the occasion of one of these sallies, the officer who was to direct
it was asked where he would take refuge in case of necessity. ‘In the
cemetery,’ he replied.
“When November had set in the town was ravaged by pestilence, while it
suffered from the horrors of famine. Even the most unclean animals were
bought at an exorbitant price and devoured. Emaciated, and no less hungry
than the men, the very animals fell upon and ate one another. Pools of
stagnant water full of refuse were seen in the streets; scattered here
and there lay the unburied corpses; for the living there was neither
shelter nor rest; the air was pestilential and disease was abroad; the
overfull hospitals lacked remedies for the sick. During the month of
November, 1,378 soldiers alone died. The spirits of the strongest and
most valiant began to fail, and yet the dauntless governor Alvarez
seized or harshly turned away the emissaries despatched by the French
general to advise him to surrender. And upon hearing someone in the
fortress pronounce the word ‘capitulation,’ he turned upon him: ‘How!’
he exclaimed in imposing accents, ‘are you alone a coward here! When
provisions are at end we will eat you, and such as you.’ At length
capitulation was necessary and so ended the famous and memorable siege of
Gerona, which lasted seven long months, during which time the enemy’s 40
batteries discharged against the town more than 60,000 balls and 20,000
bombs and grenades.”]
[119] [The Spanish historian, the count de Toreño,[f] says of this siege:
“All the residents, without distinction of class, age, or sex, rushed
to the assistance of the troops. Lorenza, a woman of the people,
distinguished herself among the women, being twice wounded; and even
two blind men, one led by a faithful dog, employed themselves in useful
works, ever smiling and jovial, visiting the posts of greatest danger,
crying out above the hissing of the balls, ‘Courage, boys; long live
Ferdinand VII! _Viva Ciudad Rodrigo!_’
“The Spaniards were angered with the English for not assisting the town.
Lord Wellington had come thither from the Guadiana disposed, and even
as it were in honour bound to compel the French to raise the siege. In
this case he could not put forward the usual excuse that the Spaniards
did not defend themselves, or that by their want of concert they caused
the failure of the well-matured plans of their allies. The marquis de la
Romana came from Badajoz to Wellington’s headquarters, and joined his
prayers to those of the residents and authorities of Ciudad Rodrigo,
to those of the Spanish government, and even to those of some of the
English. In vain! Wellington, determined not to take any step in the
matter, remained obstinate.
“Were we to imitate the example of certain English historians, a wide
field is here open to us to fittingly reply to the unjust recriminations
which such historians have largely and wrathfully poured out, with
respect to the Spanish military operations. But with more impartiality
than they have shown and following no other guide but truth, setting
aside public opinion, we declare, on the contrary, that Lord Wellington
acted as a prudent general if, to compel the enemy to raise the siege,
it was necessary to risk a battle. His forces were not superior to the
French, his soldiers lacked the necessary quickness to manœuvre in the
open and without set positions, nor did the Portuguese troops possess
that discipline and experience of fighting which gives self-confidence.
A battle gained would have saved Ciudad Rodrigo, but it would not have
ended the war; and had they lost it, the English army would have been
destroyed, the enemy enabled to advance to Lisbon, and a terrible if not
mortal blow have been dealt to the Spanish cause. The voice of public
opinion deafened the ears of the government with complaints, qualifying
the conduct of the English as at least tepid and indifferent.”]
[120] [Napier,[b] while admitting the harshness of Masséna’s deeds,
blames the Portuguese peasantry for many atrocities, and says that at
least one of the worst outrages blamed upon Masséna’s men--the pulling
to pieces of João I’s body--was actually done by the British themselves.
Many of the charges against the French he declares not only slanderous
but impossible.]
[121] [On this triumph the count de Toreño[f] says: “During this siege
the French displayed consummate courage and skill; the first was
also displayed by the English, but not the latter. This was proved
by their losses in the assault of the breaches, and their valour and
triumph in the escalade. This was usually the case with them in the
besieging of towns. The English treated their foes well, but maltreated
the inhabitants of Badajoz. The latter awaited their liberators with
impatience, and prepared presents and refreshments for them, not to
escape their fury, as certain British historians have asserted, as from
allies and friends such conduct was not to be expected, but rather to
welcome and gratify them. More than six hundred inhabitants of both sexes
were killed by the English. The work of pillage and destruction lasted
the whole of the night of the 6th and the following day. The exhortations
of their leaders were disregarded, and Lord Wellington himself was
threatened by the bayonets of his soldiers, who impeded his entrance
into the fortress to check the disorder. Order was re-established the
following day with troops purposely brought from without. Nevertheless
the cortes presented thanks to the English general, not wishing that the
excesses of the soldiers should in any way detract from the advantages
resulting from the reconquest of Badajoz. The regency conferred upon
Wellington the grand cross of San Fernando.”]
[122] [Though Skerrett was covered with honours for this victory,
Napier[b] shows that he was forced by certain officers to defend the
place against his will, and that his mistakes even then were only
overcome by Captains Smith and Mitchell. He sets the numbers of the
garrison at twenty-five hundred; the number of French was variously rated
between five and ten thousand.]
[123] [Napier[b] says: “San Sebastian, a third-rate fortress and in bad
condition when invested, resisted a besieging army possessing an enormous
battering train, for sixty-three days. The place was, in fact, won by
accident--the ignition of the French powder-barrels and shells, which
alone opened the way into the town.” Of the sad atrocities committed by
the British troops, Napier goes on to say:
“A thunderstorm, coming down from the mountains with unbounded fury
immediately after the place was carried, added to the confusion of the
fight. This storm seemed to be a signal from hell for the perpetration
of villany which would have shamed the most ferocious barbarians of
antiquity. At Rodrigo intoxication and plunder had been the principal
object; at Badajoz lust and murder were joined to rapine and drunkenness;
but at San Sebastian, the direst, the most revolting cruelty was added to
the catalogue of crimes. One atrocity of which a girl of seventeen was
the victim staggers the mind by its enormous, incredible, indescribable
barbarity. The resolution of the troops to throw off discipline was
quickly made manifest. A British staff officer was pursued with a
volley of small arms and escaped with difficulty from men who mistook
him for the provost-marshal of the 5th division; a Portuguese adjutant
who endeavoured to prevent some wickedness was put to death in the
market-place, not with sudden violence from a single ruffian, but
deliberately by a number of English soldiers; and though many officers
exerted themselves to preserve order and many men were well conducted,
the rapine and violence commenced by villains spread; the camp-follower
soon crowded into the place, and the disorder continued until the flames,
following the steps of the plunderer, put an end to his ferocity by
destroying the whole town.”]
[Illustration]