Victor’s force was not so large as he would have wished. Soult

had taken from him six battalions of infantry and three cavalry

regiments, reducing the total of the 1st Corps left at or near Cadiz

to twenty-three battalions of infantry, three regiments of cavalry,

and four or five field batteries, about 15,000 men in all. There were

also present in the lines 3,500 men more not belonging to the corps,

viz. about 1,000 artillery and 800 engineers and sappers belonging

to the siege train, and 1,600 marine troops from the flotilla which

had been constructed in Cadiz bay. These of course were useless for

field operations; but they served to man the lines, with the addition

of three battalions--2,000 men--from the fighting force, the least

that Victor thought he could spare. For the garrison of Cadiz and the

English fleet might attack in force any point of the Lines during the

absence of the main body. This left 13,000 men available for field

operations: but Cassagne was still absent at Medina Sidonia, with five

battalions, a battery, and one of the three cavalry regiments, making

3,100 men in all. There were therefore only 10,000 men left to face La

Peña and Graham, till Cassagne should come up. Victor, according to his

own dispatch, much over-estimated the force of the Allies, which he

states as 8,000 English and 18,000 Spaniards, so that he went to work

in rather a desperate mood, thinking that he had to fight very superior

numbers, and that his only chance was to make a sudden and resolute

attack when he was not expected. As a matter of fact he overstated the

enemy by nearly a half, since there were really marching from Vejer

only 5,000 English and under 10,000 Spaniards altogether, and no help

could come to them from Cadiz till Villatte should be driven off.

Each of the three divisions which Victor had under his hand was short

of several battalions; Ruffin’s, the 1st Division, and Leval’s, the

2nd, had each a battalion in the Lines and another detached with

Cassagne at Medina. Villatte’s, the 3rd, had one in the Lines and three

with Cassagne. Hence they took the field, Ruffin and Leval with six

battalions each, Villatte with five only. The respective forces were

3,000, 3,800, and 2,500 bayonets[145]: each unit had its divisional

battery with it. Of the two cavalry regiments, the 1st Dragoons, 400

sabres, was with Ruffin, the 2nd Dragoons, 300 sabres, with Villatte.

On the evening of the 4th Ruffin’s and Leval’s men were concentrated

at Chiclana, hidden behind the woods which cover it; Villatte was on

the ridge of the Torre Bermeja, between the Almanza creek and the sea,

right across the track leading from Vejer to Cadiz, and looking both

backward and forward, with his attention ready for Zayas as much as for

La Peña.

[145] It chanced that the battalions in Leval’s division were

individually stronger than those in the others--averaging 640

men each, against little over 500 in Villatte’s and Ruffin’s

divisions--officers not counted. The brigading was--Ruffin, 1/9th

Léger, 1/96th Ligne, 1 and 2/24th Ligne, 2 Provisional battalions

of grenadiers, Leval 1 and 2/8th Ligne, 1 and 2/54th Ligne,

1/45th, 1 Provisional battalion of grenadiers. See Appendix at

end of volume giving exact strength.

Meanwhile the Allies were marching straight into the middle of the trap

which Victor had prepared for them. After passing Conil, the road on

which their army was moving turns inland towards Chiclana, while a mere

track follows the beach towards the Santi Petri. It was along this that

La Peña was intending to move. But in the dark the head of the column

followed the main road, and went several miles along it. At dawn the

error was discovered, and the army, cutting across an open heath, got

down to the beach[146].

[146] See Graham’s diary, p. 465.

The point which the allies had now reached was a mile or so south-east

of the coast-guard tower of Barrosa, where an isolated eminence called

the Cerro del Puerco (Boar’s Hill), crowned by a ruined chapel, looks

out upon the heathy plain of Chiclana to the north, and a scrubby pine

wood (covering much of the ground towards the beach) to the west[147].

The advanced cavalry got upon the hill unhindered soon after daybreak,

and met no enemy, nor did patrols sent into the wood discover him for

some time. Presently, however, news came back from the front that a

French force had been discerned, drawn up between the Almanza creek and

the sea, and blocking the way to Cadiz. Being outside the wood it was

very visible, and seemed to be about a strong brigade of infantry with

a squadron or two of horse. This was, of course, Villatte, waiting for

the advance of the Allies. No other hostile troops were to be seen.

[147] The pinewood is now much shrunken, and covers only the

northern part of its original breadth. See an article on the

topography of Barrosa by Colonel Verner in the _Saturday Review_

for March 9, 1911.

La Peña now told Graham that, despite of the fact that the men had been

under arms for fourteen hours, and had marched as many miles in the

dark, he was about to thrust this French force out of the way without a

moment’s delay. Lardizabal, with the vanguard division, was to attack

it at once, while the rest of the army took up a position to cover him

from any possible movement of the enemy from the direction of Chiclana.

About nine in the morning Lardizabal with his five battalions reached

Villatte’s front, deployed and attacked him. The forces were about

equal, and the attack was repulsed with some loss; La Peña then ordered

up the leading brigade of Anglona’s division to support the vanguard.

A sharp engagement was going on, when a new fire broke out behind

Villatte. Zayas, from the Isle of Leon, had recast his bridge across

the Santi Petri, and was advancing to take the French in the rear.

Villatte saw his danger, gave up his position across the peninsula,

and hastily fell back towards the passage of the shallow Almanza

creek, near the mill of the same name. He recrossed it, not without

some difficulty, and then drew up to defend the passage. Lardizabal

was prevented by La Peña from pursuing him, and halted opposite. The

skirmish had been hot: Villatte had lost 337 men, the Spaniards a few

more. But they had achieved their purpose, and the connexion with Cadiz

had been duly established.

About noon La Peña sent orders to Graham to evacuate the Barrosa

position, and draw in closer to the Almanza creek, to join the rest of

the army. Meanwhile he would be relieved on the hill by five battalions

of Cruz Murgeon and Beguines[148], to which rearguard there was added

one British battalion, Browne’s composite unit consisting of the six

flank companies of the 9th, 28th, and 82nd. Whittingham and the

cavalry were to flank this force on the coast track, somewhere near

the tower of La Barrosa. This force was to move off in its turn, when

Graham should have reached the main body, for the Spanish general had

resolved not to hold the Cerro, considering that an army of 14,000

men should not be spread out over four miles of ground, but be kept

more concentrated. Graham entirely disagreed with this movement; if

the Allies came down and crammed themselves into the narrow peninsula

between the sea and the Almanza creek, there was nothing to prevent

Victor from seizing the Barrosa heights, and placing himself across

their front, in a way which would block them into the cramped position

which they had assumed. The move practically threw them back on Cadiz,

and sacrificed all the results of the toilsome flank march in which

they had been so long engaged. Graham had in the morning urged on La

Peña the all-importance of retaining the hill, but now saw his advice

rejected. Obeying orders, however, he set his column in march towards

the Torre Bermeja and the Almanza creek, through the pine wood. At the

same time the rearguard under Beguines and Cruz Murgeon ascended the

Cerro, and took up the post which the British division had left.

[148] Cruz Murgeon was commanding the two battalions attached to

the British division, Ciudad Real and 4th Walloon Guards.

The British column did not descend to the rough track along the coast,

but used a fair wood path right through the middle of the pine forest,

which saved them a couple of miles of détour, and was practicable for

artillery. They were soon filing along between the pines, lost to

sight, and themselves unable to see a hundred yards in any direction.

At this moment, about 12.30 p.m., Victor suddenly broke out of the

woods in front of Chiclana with the 7,000 men of Ruffin’s and Leval’s

divisions. He was tired of waiting for Cassagne, for he had now got

news that the force at Medina had started late in the morning, instead

of at dawn, and would not be up for two or three hours more. His

cavalry had just reported to him that the Cerro seemed to be abandoned,

and that the troops formerly holding it were marching across his

front through the forest. Since the main body of the enemy had been

located opposite Villatte, on the Almanza creek, there seemed to be a

good chance of seizing the important Barrosa position unopposed, and

of striking the rear division of the Allies while it was defiling,

strung out helplessly in a wood road, across the front of the advancing

French. The orders given by the Marshal sent his cavalry regiment

(three squadrons of the 1st Dragoons) to turn the heights by their

south-eastern flank, and seize the coast track, while Ruffin ascended

the Cerro by its gently sloping northern front, and Leval struck at the

troops known to be in the wood. The French, being quite fresh, came on

at a great pace; the Marshal had explained to his subordinates that

haste was everything. They were clearly visible to the rearguard left

on the heights, partly visible to La Peña, who could see their flank up

the trough of the Almanza creek, but wholly invisible to Graham and his

troops in the wood.

A great responsibility now fell on the Spanish officers on the Cerro;

they were under orders to evacuate the heights when Graham should have

got away westward. What were they to do when it suddenly became clear

that they were themselves about to be attacked? They might attempt

to defend the hill with the one British and five Spanish battalions

which lay, unseen to the French, under the seaward slope of the Cerro:

or they might simply obey orders, and retire towards the main body,

abandoning their dominating position. The latter course was the one

taken. The five Spanish battalions streamed down the seaward face of

the hill in no very good order, and fell in there with the baggage

of the whole army. All together began to retire northward; there was

a block on the beach, the baggage mules were driven right and left,

and many got loose and bolted. Meanwhile Whittingham with the cavalry

(three Spanish[149] and two K.G.L. squadrons) ranged himself across the

track, where he was soon faced by the French dragoons, who had galloped

round the south-eastern face of the heights with remarkable celerity.

[149] The rest of the Spanish cavalry being now with La Peña by

the Almanza creek.

Whittingham’s retreat was not made without a protest against it by

Colonel Browne, who urged, firstly, that it was madness to abandon the

height, secondly that he had Graham’s orders to stand there, and could

obey no others. The cavalry general replied that, for his part, he had

resolved to retire, and offered to lend Browne one of his squadrons to

cover his retreat towards the British division, if he would not follow

him to the coast track. The fiery colonel made no reply, but turned to

his battalion and ordered it to occupy the ruined chapel on the top of

the Cerro and the neighbouring thickets, and to prepare for action.

But in half an hour, seeing Whittingham’s column far off at the foot

of the hill, and six French battalions coming in upon him, Browne gave

way and descended into the pine wood in search of Graham[150]. The

French--Ruffin’s division--took possession of the heights, and planted

a battery upon them.

[150] There is a lively account of the altercation in the memoirs

of Browne’s ardent admirer Blakeney (_A Boy in the Peninsular

War_, p. 187).

Meanwhile we must return to Graham, concealed in the wood, and marching

(as it were blindfold) across the front of Leval’s approaching column.

He had no cavalry with him, but presently two mounted guerrilleros rode

up in haste, and told him that the French were close on his flank.

Riding back to the rear of his division, he saw from the edge of the

forest Beguines’s troops pouring down the near side of the Cerro, and

Ruffin’s mounting its northern ascent. Leval was also visible to the

left.

Graham’s mind was made up in a moment: ‘A retreat in the face of the

enemy,’ he writes, ‘who was already in reach of the easy communication

by the sea-beach, must have involved the whole allied army in the

danger of being attacked during the unavoidable confusion, while the

different corps would be arriving on the narrow ridge of Bermeja at

the same time,’ i. e. he saw that he himself coming out of the wood,

Whittingham and Beguines from the shore track, and the main body

returning from the Almanza creek bridge, would meet in disorder on

the narrow neck of the peninsula by the Torre Bermeja, and would be

unable to form an orderly line of battle. Even if they did, and then

held their ground, the object of the whole expedition was lost, and the

French, in possession of the Cerro del Puerco, once more blocked the

army into Cadiz.

The alternative was to take the offensive before the two French columns

had united, and to attack them while they were still coming upon the

ground, and before they had drawn up in any regular order. It was

evident that they were hurrying forward without any notion that they

were liable to be thrown on the defensive at a moment’s notice. In

three minutes Graham had made up his mind to attack himself, instead

of allowing himself to be chased into the Bermeja position. The wood,

in which his division lay concealed, enabled him to hide his movement,

though it made that movement perilously disorderly. The orders given

were simple: the leading brigade, that of Colonel Wheatley, was to

push straight through the wood till it reached the northern edge,

and then form there, and attack Leval. The rear brigade, that of

General Dilkes, was to counter-march down the wood-path on which it

was engaged, till it too cleared the wood, and then to form up and

attack Ruffin on the slopes of the Cerro del Puerco. The ten guns, in

the centre of the marching column, were to push up a side track which

seemed passable, and to form on Wheatley’s right, in the centre between

the two brigades. Meanwhile these movements would take some time to

execute, and the French were coming closer to the wood every minute.

It was necessary to hold them back at all costs till a line could be

formed. With this object Graham resolved to throw forward on each front

a light infantry force, which should engage the enemy, regardless of

order and of losses, till the main body got up. On the left Barnard’s

four companies of the 95th Rifles and the two companies of the 20th

Portuguese under Colonel Bushe, about 700 men in all, were ordered to

break through the wood directly before them, without any attempt at

formation, and when they reached its edge, to sally straight out at

Leval’s front, in the best skirmishing line they could make. On the

right there was a force already to the front--Browne’s flank battalion,

536 muskets, which had just descended unwillingly from the Cerro, and

was visible at its foot.

This last force was near Graham as he sat on his horse among the trees

at the wood’s end. He cantered up to Browne, and asked him why the

Cerro had been abandoned. ‘Because five battalions of Spaniards went

off before the enemy came within cannon-shot,’ was the reply. ‘Well,

it’s a bad business, Browne; you must instantly turn round again and

attack.’ The flank battalion began to extend into skirmishing order,

when Graham, after a moment’s reflection, said, ‘I must show something

more serious than skirmishing. Close the men into compact battalion!

And then attack in your front and immediately.’ Dilkes’s brigade was

coming up, but was still a mile away in the wood, and Browne came out

of the trees into the open absolutely isolated, to attack uphill six

battalions and a battery with a two-deep line of just 536 men[151].

Blakeney says that his colonel rode into action singing the old naval

song--

‘Now cheer up, my lads, ’tis to glory we steer,’

a tune to which he was much addicted at all times in and out of season.

[151] All this from the graphic description in the autobiography

of Blakeney, Browne’s adjutant, p. 188.

About the same time, or a few minutes later, Barnard’s and Bushe’s

scattered and uneven line burst out of the northern edge of the wood a

mile away, and found themselves facing Leval’s division at the distance

of only some 400 yards. This force, quite unaware that any enemy was

yet near, was advancing in two columns each of three battalions, the

right one composed of the 54th regiment and a battalion of _grenadiers

réunis_, the left of the 8th regiment followed by a single battalion of

the 45th. Their divisional battery was following on their left rear.

Barnard, who got a little further to the front than the Portuguese, was

facing the French 54th, Bushe, who was drawn back a little in échelon,

was opposite the French 8th. They had hardly opened their fire, which

had great effect because the enemy had no screen of voltigeurs out

to cover him, and was caught unprepared for an infantry fight, when

Duncan’s ten guns, which had made extraordinary good pace through the

wood, appeared, and unlimbering at its edge began to fire shrapnel into

the leading battalions of the French. Behind them the two companies of

the 47th, which properly belonged to Barnard’s provisional battalion,

took post as their supports.

Thus the battle was suddenly begun on both fronts, but Graham had

only 500 men up on one side, and 900 with the guns on the other. The

main body was coming on through the wood behind in an extraordinarily

mixed order. When Graham gave orders to Wheatley’s brigade to face to

their right flank and push through the wood northward, and to Dilkes’s

brigade to turn about on the road and return to the Cerro by the way

they had come, there was no small confusion. By some misunderstanding

the rear companies of the 67th, which was the last battalion in

Wheatley’s brigade, faced about and followed Dilkes, though the leading

companies went off with their proper companions, the 28th and 87th. On

the other hand, by a compensating mistake, the two companies of the

Coldstream Guards, which belonged to Dilkes, turned north into the wood

and followed Wheatley[152]. The brigades exchanged, as it were, 250

men with each other. In addition the battalions, owing to the sudden

inversion of their column of march, were all out of their proper order

in their brigades, and went into action ‘almost anyhow.’

[152] The biography of General Dilkes seems to explain this

matter. Duncan, the artillery commander, thought that he would

be going into action without any infantry supports, and rode to

the nearest brigadier--this was Dilkes--to ask him to lend a

few companies to cover the guns. Dilkes assented, and told the

Coldstream companies in the middle of his column to fall out

and follow the guns. But Graham had already set aside the two

companies of the 47th, from Barnard’s battalion, for the same

purpose. When Duncan found them waiting for him in the edge of

the wood, he told the officer commanding the Coldstreamers that

he was not wanted, and these two companies marched off and fell

into line in a gap in the front of Wheatley’s brigade.

But while a line of some sort was being formed, the screen of light

troops which Graham had thrown forward, to detain the enemy, during

the deployment of the main body, had done its duty by allowing itself

to be knocked to pieces while attacking fivefold numbers. It had to be

sacrificed to gain time, and carried out its orders completely. We will

take the fortunes of the right-hand force first.

Browne’s composite battalion had started from a position close under

the edge of the pine wood; it had first to cross a broad but shallow

ravine, and then to climb the gentle slope of the Cerro, where it

became fully visible to the enemy, though there was a little cover

here and there upon the hillside, in the form of scattered bushes and

slight dips in the ground. The French allowed the line to advance a

little way up the ascent, and then opened upon it both with a field

battery placed close to the chapel on the summit, and with the musketry

fire of the three battalions which formed their right wing. Blakeney,

our ever-useful authority for this side of the battle, says that the

first salvo of the French knocked over more than 200 officers and men

out of 536 forming the line. Browne ordered the men to close to the

centre, and endeavoured to continue his climb; this was done with much

difficulty, but, before the advance could be resumed, more than fifty

men more were killed or wounded. All the exertions of the colonel could

not form a third line--fourteen officers out of twenty-one were down,

and more than half the rank and file. The remainder now scattered;

the men did not retreat, but threw themselves down, and commenced

independent firing from behind bushes, hillocks, and any other cover

they could find. The French made no attempt to fall upon them by

descending the hill, as would have seemed natural. The reason was that

by the time that the flank battalion had been disposed of, the main

body of Dilkes’s brigade had come out of the wood, and was visible

forming up at the foot of the hill to deliver the real assault.

The Guards had obtained the necessary time to come up and choose their

ground through the absolute martyrdom of the flank battalion. Dilkes

did not repeat the attack on the same slope over which Browne had

advanced, but pushed some distance to the right, where the hillside

showed more cover in the way of scattered bushes and trees, and some

dead ground hid the men by its steepness from the fire of the battery

on the crest above. Blakeney describes them as strung out on a most

irregular front, a confused mass rather than a formed line. The whole,

while advancing, kept taking ground to their right, so as to come up

the hillside opposite Ruffin’s left wing. Their extreme flank was

covered by Norcott’s two companies of rifles in more extended order.

Partly owing to the cover, partly to the difficulty found by the French

guns in getting their fire to bear, Dilkes’s brigade got wellnigh to

the top of the hill before it suffered any very serious losses. But on

clearing the last underwood, and reaching smooth ground, it was charged

by the four battalions of Ruffin’s left--two of the 24th Line supported

by the two reserve battalions of _grenadiers réunis_. This was the

crisis of the battle in the southern half of its progress. By all the

rules of French military art four battalion columns, fresh and well

ordered, charging down hill, should have been able to break through a

disordered line of decidedly inferior strength pushing upwards against

them. Dilkes had only 1,400 men, the four French battalions just over

2,000. Nevertheless, the impossible happened. When the two columns of

the 24th Ligne came down, with drums beating and levelled bayonets,

against the centre of the firm, if disorderly, line in front, they

were checked by the furious fire that broke out against them from the

semicircle into which they had pushed. This was one more example of the

fact established at Maida five years before, and reaffirmed at Vimiero,

Talavera, and Bussaco, that no column could break the British line by

mere impetus. In this case the French had every advantage, since they

were absolutely intact troops, and had the ground entirely in their

favour, while the Guards and the wing of the 67th opposed to them had

marched two miles in haste, had then climbed a steep 200-foot slope

under fire, had lost their order, and were firing up hill. But the fire

was delivered with astounding accuracy, considering that the men were

blown with their climb and dreadfully exhausted. The whole head of

each of the descending columns was blown to pieces. The rest came to

a standstill, and crowding together in a disorderly clump, opened an

irregular fire against the British line.

The Marshal, who was present in person on the top of the Cerro, then

brought up his reserve, the two battalions of grenadiers under General

Chaudron Rousseau. He himself and the brigadier were both distinctly

seen leading on the column, the Marshal waving his large white-plumed

hat over his head. This charge was delivered against the right of

Dilkes’s line, where the 3rd Guards and wing of the 67th lay, that of

the 24th Ligne had been more against the centre and the 1st Guards. But

the result was the same, though the contest was more long and bloody.

The grenadiers are said to have struggled forward, losing heavily at

each step, till their front was within a very few yards of Dilkes’s

line: it was only then that they halted and began to fire--a fatal step

in such a contest, where impetus was the sole chance of the attacking

mass, and superiority in musketry fire (owing to the longer front)

was on the side of the English line. This of course was a terribly

murderous business to both sides, as the figures presently to be quoted

will show. But as in all similar contests during the Peninsular War,

the line hit harder than the column. The four French battalions began

at last to give way, and could not be kept together. Then Victor tried

to bring in the two left battalions of his line to their aid, but these

two units were pestered and impeded, when they began to move off from

their first position, by the remains of Browne’s flank battalion, which

(though reduced to under 300 muskets) began to press forward again,

when the troops hitherto in their front commenced to move off to the

right. ‘They darted from behind trees, briars, brakes, and out of

hollows,’ says Blakeney. ‘I could imagine myself like Roderick Dhu upon

Benledi’s side--it was a magic effect. We confidently advanced up the

hill and, unlike most advances, in this one our numbers increased as

we proceeded, soldiers of the flank battalion joining at every step.’

This scattered little force hung on to the flank of Victor’s right, and

prevented it from rallying the broken force now recoiling from in front

of Dilkes. The flankers had even the good fortune to capture a howitzer

from the left of Victor’s battery placed by the chapel on the hilltop;

another gun was taken by the 1st Guards in their forward progress.

It must have been just at this crisis that the whole French mass broke;

up to this moment it had been recoiling sullenly, still keeping up

some fire from its rear. But now the observer saw[153], ‘with loud and

murmuring sounds, Ruffin’s division and Rousseau’s chosen grenadiers

rolling with a whirling motion down into the valley below, leaving

their two brave generals mortally wounded on the hill, which was left

in possession of their bloodstained conquerors.’

[153] Blakeney, p. 195.

The exhausted victors halted for a short time to re-form, and were in

a more orderly line than they had hitherto shown when they commenced

to follow the enemy down the slope. The casualties in this part of

the field may now be stated, for neither party was to lose many more

men in the last episode of the fight. Dilkes’s brigade and Browne’s

flank battalion had gone up the hill with 76 officers and 1,873 men.

They lost 25 officers and 588 men--about 10 men out of every 31 in the

fight. The French loss was positively more, proportionately not quite

so great. In the six battalions of Ruffin and Chaudron Rousseau there

seem to have been about 108 officers and 3,000 men present; of these 36

officers and 840 men were left on the hill, i. e. 10 men in every 35.

The trophies remaining with the victors were two guns and 107 unwounded

prisoners, beside the multitude of disabled men left on the slope[154].

[154] For further details see the letters of General Dilkes,

Colonels Norcott, Stanhope, and Onslow, and Major Acheson, in

Wellington’s _Supplementary Dispatches_, vii. pp. 127-31.

While this bloody business had been going on upon the Cerro del

Puerco, it may be asked what were the Spaniards on the coast road

doing--Whittingham’s squadrons and the five battalions of Cruz Murgeon

and Beguines. The last named, with his three battalions, shepherding

what was left of the baggage-train, quietly marched off along the sea,

and joined La Peña by the Torre Bermeja. Whittingham was of a little

positive use; he continued all through the fight to ‘contain’ and

occasionally to bicker with the French cavalry regiment (1st Dragoons)

that faced him near the Torre Barrosa. The two battalions of Cruz

Murgeon supported him. This force certainly did not do its share--180

German Hussars, 300 Spanish horse, and 1,000 Spanish foot simply kept

out of action 400 French horse. This was something, but not much,

for the dragoons could not have interfered very effectively on the

hill against Dilkes’s advance, because the south side of the Cerro

is too precipitous for horsemen. In short, Whittingham’s statement

in his report to La Peña, that ‘all the cavalry fulfilled its duty

brilliantly’ is a sad overstatement of the case.

Let us turn now to the other half of the fight, where Wheatley’s

brigade and Duncan’s guns were facing Leval on the open plain just

outside the edge of the wood. At the moment when Browne attacked the

Cerro, Barnard’s rifles and Bushe’s Portuguese were throwing themselves

in a no less resolute fashion upon the six French battalions in their

front. They had the advantage of being invisible to the enemy till

they emerged from the wood, only 300 yards in his front, and of being

supported, within a few minutes of their arrival, by Duncan’s ten guns,

while Browne had no artillery assistance whatever, and was seen by the

French for half a mile before he got near them.

The confusion in Leval’s division on being suddenly attacked by an

unexpected swarm of skirmishers pouring out of the wood was extreme.

So much were they taken aback, that Vigo-Roussillon of the 8th Line

assures us in his memoirs that a false alarm of cavalry was raised,

and that his regiment, and the first battalion of the 54th, formed

square before the mistake was recognized, and caught some shells from

Duncan’s guns in that uncomfortable situation, before they had time to

deploy for action against infantry. This they had to do under a heavy

fire from Barnard’s riflemen, who had advanced quite close to them.

Leval’s fighting formation was the usual ‘column of divisions,’ i. e.

a front of two companies and a depth of three in each battalion, or

(since these units averaged 650 men each, and the companies over 100

bayonets) a front of seventy-two men and a depth of nine. The length of

Barnard’s skirmishing line, with his 400 rifles, seems to have covered

the front of the right battalion of the 54th and the left battalion of

the 8th--some 1,300 men. The 95th did considerable execution on them

while they were getting out of square formation: but when the columns

advanced firing, the skirmishing line had to fall back. Its loss

was heavy--sixty-five killed and wounded; among the latter Barnard,

commanding the battalion. The next troops whom the French encountered

were the flank companies of the 20th Portuguese--330 men only, who had

advanced on the right rear of the 95th, supporting them in échelon.

This was a new corps, which had been sent to Cadiz the moment it was

raised in 1809, and had never been under fire before. Considering

their hopeless position, alone in front of an advancing division, the

Portuguese behaved very well; they held their ground for some time,

while their colonel, Bushe, as is recorded by an eye-witness, rode

slowly backward and forward behind them with his spectacles on, crying

as the balls whistled past, ‘Que bella musica,’ to encourage his men.

But he was soon mortally wounded[155], and after his fall the line

melted away and drifted to the rear, after having kept a battalion of

the French 8th engaged for some minutes: proportionately its loss was

much the same as that of the Rifles--56 killed and wounded out of 332

present--one man in six.

[155] Vigo-Roussillon says that he personally captured Colonel

Bushe, who was riding away slowly from the front, disabled by

a wound. This seems contradicted by the very circumstantial

evidence of Bunbury, adjutant of the 20th Portuguese, who says

that Bushe had his horse shot under him, and was mortally

wounded, that he declined being sent to the rear, and was propped

up and left behind by his own orders. French soldiers were seen

rifling him as he lay.

The first act of the drama on this front was thus complete; the

detaining force sent out by Graham had been, as he expected, driven

in with loss, though not an appalling loss of 50 per cent., such as

Browne’s gallant flankers had suffered on the Cerro. But the main body

was now up, and had formed in the edge of the wood, to the left of

Duncan’s guns, with no loss or interruption, since it had been well

covered all the time. There were now some 1,400 men in line: the 28th,

450 strong, on the left, then the 211 bayonets of the Coldstreamers,

the 87th, nearly 700 strong, in the centre; beyond them the right wing

of the 67th, about 250 bayonets, next to the guns, which were still

under the protection of the flank companies of the 47th which served as

their escort throughout the fight. The broken screen of light troops

which had just retired was by no means out of action; the 95th formed

up again behind the 28th, the Portuguese behind the 87th, and both were

used again before the battle was over.

The formation of the French at this moment was an uneven line of

four battalion columns,--counting from their left, 1/8th, 2/8th,

2/54th, 1/54th; the other two battalions were in reserve, the 1/45th

behind the French battery, which was now engaged with Duncan’s guns,

the provisional battalion of grenadiers more to the right, and some

distance behind the 54th regiment. The whole was advancing, but slowly:

the battalions in the front line were firing; the centre was a little

more to the front than the wings, the 2/8th being ahead of the other

battalions because (as its _chef de bataillon_ remarks in his memoir)

he only allowed his men to fire volleys by order, while the units on

his right and left were using independent fire. All had suffered in

the previous fight with Barnard and the Portuguese, and much needed

time to re-form, which was not granted them, because the English main

line charged the moment that the light troops had cleared off from its

front. It is curious to note in the French memoirs that the authors

all write as if they had an oppressive feeling that the superiority of

numbers was against them, and that they were being led to a forlorn

hope. This was caused partly by the immense extent of the British line

in proportion to its depth, still more by the happy existence of the

wood behind Wheatley’s brigade. It had already vomited out two lively

attacking lines, and the enemy presupposed a third in reserve; nearly

all the French narratives definitely say that they were attacked by

three lines, while really there was only one, with the screen of light

troops, which had already been used up. As to the complaint concerning

inferior numbers, it is certain that Leval’s division had 3,800 men,

and Wheatley’s brigade only 2,500. The only superiority of the British

was that, in the artillery duel now going on to the right of the line,

they had ten guns to six, and soon crushed the French battery, so that

it gave no effective support to its infantry. Only one of the French

battalions attempted to deploy into line--this was the 2nd of the 54th,

which lay opposite the British 28th--the others kept on from first

to last in column of divisions. An eye-witness (Surtees of the 95th)

remarks, ‘they never got into line, nor did they ever intend to do so,

I believe, but advanced in solid bodies, firing from their front[156].’

[156] Surtees, _Twenty Years in the Rifle Brigade_, p. 119.

The fight, owing to the French centre being slightly advanced, began a

little earlier there than on the wings, the first clash being between

the column of the French 2/8th, led by Vigo-Roussillon, and the line

of the 2/87th, led by that enthusiastic fighter, Major Gough. We have

narratives from both of them, and each insists that he kept down the

fire of his men till they were within a very short distance of the

enemy--sixty yards, says Vigo-Roussillon, twenty-five, says Gough.

There was then a single volley exchanged, and the French column, much

the harder hit of the two, broke up. ‘As they were in column when

they broke,’ says Gough, ‘they could not get away. It was therefore

a scene of most dreadful carnage, and I must own my weakness; as I

was in front of the regiment I was in the very middle of them, and I

could not cut down one, though I might have twenty, they seemed so

confounded and confused[157].’ There was indeed a fearful crowding and

_mêlée_ here, for the 1st battalion of the French 8th, yielding before

the fire of the British guns and the troops to the right of Gough,

the wing of the 67th, fell back sideways against their own second

battalion, and became mixed in one mass with them. Thus the 87th were

sweeping before them, and ploughing through, a crowd of some 1,400,

or allowing for previous losses, 1,200 men, while the companies of

the 67th were firing into its flank and rear. The 8th Ligne suffered

worse losses than any other troops on the field that day, save Browne’s

heroic flank battalion, losing about 50 per cent. of the men who went

into action--726 killed, wounded, and taken out of 1,468 present.

The colonel, Autié, was killed, and one of the two battalion chiefs,

Lanusse, while the other, Vigo-Roussillon, was wounded and taken

prisoner. The eagle was captured from the middle of the 1st battalion

after a desperate struggle with the colours-guard; Ensign Keogh of

the 87th, who first got hold of it, was bayonetted twice and killed;

Sergeant Masterson[158] then ran the _aquilifère_ through with his

pike, dragged the eagle away, and kept it during the rest of the

_mêlée_. This was the first eagle captured by the British during the

Peninsular War, and its arrival in London was rightly made an occasion

of considerable pomp and ceremony. The eagle was presented to the

Prince Regent in person, who granted to the 87th the right to bear an

eagle and a laurel wreath above the harp on the regimental colours

and appointments, and the title of the ‘Prince of Wales’s Own Irish

Regiment.’ Gough was given a brevet lieutenant-colonelcy at once, and

Sergeant Masterson, who had captured the eagle, received a commission

in his own regiment; he and his descendants have served in it almost

throughout the nineteenth century.

[157] See letter in Rait’s _Life of Lord Gough_, vol. i. p. 53.

[158] A hereditary name of glory in the 87th. The present

representative of the family won his Victoria Cross at Ladysmith

in 1900.

The rout of the 8th Ligne was not the last triumph of the 87th on that

day; driving the remains of that unfortunate corps in front of them,

they came upon the battalion of the 45th Ligne, which had hitherto been

standing in reserve behind the French battery, and which Leval had just

ordered up to support the broken first line. Gough, with the greatest

difficulty, succeeded in forming about half his scattered though

victorious regiment to face this new enemy. But there was hardly a

collision: all the other French units were broken by this time, and the

45th hesitated. ‘After firing until we came within about fifty paces

of them,’ writes Gough, ‘they (for us fortunately) broke and fled, for

had they done their duty, fatigued as my men were at the moment, they

might have cut us to pieces.’ That this battalion cannot have behaved

well is sufficiently shown by the casualty list--out of 700 men present

it only lost 55--far the smallest proportional loss in the whole French

army that day. Probably the weakness of its resistance is partly to be

accounted for by the fact that it was being outflanked by the wing of

the 67th, who must have been extending in this direction at the moment,

prolonging the line of the 87th eastward. In its double victory the

87th lost 173 men out of 700 in the field. There remains the left wing

of this fight to be dealt with. Here the French 54th, in two battalion

columns, was facing the British 1/28th and the 200 Coldstreamers on

their right. This was the only part of the field in which the French

tried at all to manœuvre: the right battalion of the 54th began to

deploy and to turn the British flank, by moving westward into the edge

of the pine wood, but with little effect. We have a short account of

this fight in the memoirs of Cadell of the 28th.

‘We had formed line under cover of the 95th, and then advanced to

meet their right wing, which was coming down in close column--a great

advantage--and here the coolness of Colonel Belson was conspicuous:

he moved us up without firing a shot, close to their right battalion,

which just then began to deploy. The Colonel then gave orders to

fire by platoons from centre to flanks, and low; “Fire at their legs

and spoil their dancing.” This was kept up for a short time, with

dreadful effect. The action being now general all along the line, we

twice attempted to charge. But the enemy, being double our strength

(since our flank companies were away), only retired a little on each

occasion. Finally, giving three cheers, we charged a third time, and

succeeded: the enemy gave way and fled in every direction.’ Of all

Leval’s division there now remained unbroken only the single battalion

of _grenadiers réunis_ under Colonel Meunier behind the right rear. The

routed 54th fled diagonally to take cover behind it. Belson did not

pursue very rapidly, and this wing of the beaten division moved off to

the flank, covered by the grenadiers, and presently met the wrecks of

the 8th and the 45th not far north of the Laguna del Puerco, the pool

which lies beyond the heath, to the east. It may not be out of place to

give the losses: the 54th, with 1,300 men present, lost 323--about one

man in four. The grenadiers hardly suffered at all, never having come

into close action. Of the British opposite them, the 28th, with 450 men

in the field, had 86 casualties; the Coldstream companies lost 58 out

of 211[159].

[159] These two companies, whose losses, as it is seen here, were

heavy, must have been engaged with part of the left battalion of

the French 54th.

Just as Leval’s division arrived near the Laguna, it was joined by the

wrecks of Ruffin’s, descending in disorder from the northern slope of

the Cerro. It says much for the resolution of Victor that he succeeded

in halting the two disorganized masses, and deployed two or three

comparatively intact battalions and the ten guns which remained to him,

to cover the rallying of the rest. At the same moment his cavalry, the

1st Dragoons, which had galloped away round the east side of the Cerro

when Ruffin was beaten off it, came in and drew up on the right and

left of the whole. It was a bold bid to secure an unmolested retreat,

for no more could be hoped. Some time was available for rallying the

troops, for Graham had also to get his exhausted men into order. They

came up at last, Wheatley’s brigade on the left, Dilkes’s on the

right, the guns in the centre. The latter were set to play on the

new front of the French, which they did with great effect, the enemy

being in a cramped mass. The skirmishers went forward, and a third

separate engagement seemed about to begin, when a small new force

intervened. This was one of the two squadrons of German hussars, which

had followed the French dragoons around the back of the Cerro, not on

the orders of Whittingham, who made no haste to pursue, but on those

of Graham’s aide-de-camp Ponsonby, who had carried them off on his

own responsibility. Coming like a whirlwind across the lower slope of

the hill, this squadron upset the French squadron of the 1st Dragoons

which formed Victor’s flank guard on this side, and drove it in upon

the infantry. Small though the shock was, it sufficed to upset the

equilibrium of the demoralized French divisions. They went off in a

sudden rush, leaving behind them two more guns, and streamed across the

plain towards Chiclana.

The battle was over; there was no pursuit, for the cautious

Whittingham came up ten minutes too late with the rest of the cavalry,

in time to see the last of the enemy disappearing in the woods. With

him came up also the two infantry battalions under Cruz Murgeon, and

these were the only Spanish troops that Graham saw during the battle.

It may be noted that we have hitherto not had occasion to say one word

of General La Peña or his two infantry divisions since the main action

began. On being informed, at the same time as Graham, of the approach

of Victor from Chiclana, La Peña had no thought save to defend the

isthmus by the Torre Bermeja against the approaching enemy. He drew

up his own eleven battalions across it in a double or treble line,

while Zayas, with those which had come out of Cadiz, watched Villatte

across the Almanza creek. When Beguines appeared from the Cerro by

the coast-track, he was put into the same mass, which must have risen

to something like 10,000 men. Presently news came from the wood that

Graham had faced about and was fighting the French. La Peña, as his own

dispatch shows, concluded that the English must inevitably be beaten,

and refused to stir a man to support them or to bring them off. Zayas

repeatedly asked leave to march up to join Wheatley’s flank, or to

cross the Almanza and to attack Villatte, but was refused permission.

The first report, to the effect that Graham was driving the French

back, La Peña refused to credit. It was not till the fugitives of

Leval’s division were seen retreating past the head of the Almanza

creek, that he could be got to accept the idea that Graham was

victorious. And when pressed to join in the pursuit by Zayas, he merely

said that the men were tired, and the day far spent. The reaping of the

fruits of victory might be left for the morrow.

When it is remembered that La Peña was only two miles from Wheatley’s

fighting-ground, and three from the Cerro, his conduct seems astounding

as well as selfish. Graham’s fight lasted nearly two hours. La Peña

could have ridden over, to see what was going on, in a quarter of an

hour. He refused to stir, and deliberately sacrificed his allies,

because he had got a comfortable, almost an impregnable, position

across the narrow isthmus, and would not move out of it, whatever might

happen to Graham. This timid and selfish policy was an exact repetition

of his betrayal of Castaños at Tudela in 1808. With his 10,000 men

he could have crushed Villatte if he had advanced on one front, or have

annihilated the remnants of Ruffin and Leval, if he had chosen to act

on the other.

[Illustration: BARROSA]

He had his reward: next morning Graham, after collecting his wounded

and his trophies, recrossed into the Isle of Leon, formally giving

notice that in consequence of yesterday’s proceedings, he was forced to

withdraw his consent, given in February, to serve under La Peña, and to

fall back on the discretional orders given by the British Government

not to undertake any operations in which he was not himself in chief

command. It is impossible to blame him; no one could deny, after what

had happened on the 5th, that it was absolutely unsafe to go out in La

Peña’s company. Wellington sent his complete approval to Graham, well

remembering his own experiences with Cuesta in 1809. ‘I concur in the

propriety of your withdrawing to the Isla on the 6th,’ he wrote, ‘as

much as I admire the promptitude and determination of your attack on

the 5th[160].’

[160] Wellington to Graham, from Santa Marinha, March 25th.

(_Dispatches_, vii, 396.)

The division marched back into the Isla with only 4,000 men in the

ranks; 1,238 had fallen or been disabled at Barrosa--almost one

casualty among every four men in the field. But Victor had been hit

much harder; out of 7,300 men in the divisions of Leval and Ruffin much

more than one in four, viz. no less than 2,062, were _hors de combat_;

262 had been killed, 1,694 wounded, 134 unwounded prisoners were taken,

along with the eagle and five guns[161]. The units that had fought in

the Cerro and on the heath by the wood were absolutely demoralized; it

would have been impossible to put them in line again for several days.

[161] See the figures of losses in Appendix No. V.

If the slightest push forward had been made on the 6th, it is certain

that the siege would have been raised. Victor had rallied the broken

troops behind the wood of Chiclana on Villatte’s comparatively intact

division, and had been joined in the late afternoon by Cassagne’s 3,000

men, who had at last come up from Medina Sidonia. But there was panic

all along the Lines: while the battle had been going on, English and

Spanish gunboats had threatened their garrison, and had made small

disembarkations at one or two points; a battery had been captured

near Santa Maria. If a more serious attack were made from the sea

next morning, it was clear that the line would break at some point.

‘The sinister phrases “destruction of the forts” and “abandonment of

the position” flew from mouth to mouth[162].’ Victor called a council

of war, and proposed to offer a second battle behind Chiclana; but

he found little support among the generals. It was finally decided

that, if the Allies should come on in full force next morning, only

such resistance should be made as would allow time to blow up most of

the forts, and burn the stores and the flotilla. The 1st Corps would

retreat on Seville. Victor proposed that one or two positions, where

there were solid closed works, like Fort Sénarmont and the Trocadero,

should be left garrisoned, and told to defend themselves until the army

should return, strengthened by Soult and Sebastiani, to relieve them.

It is doubtful whether he would really have risked this move, since the

time of his return would have been most uncertain, and he might very

probably have been making a present to the enemy of any troops left

behind in isolated posts.

[162] Lapéne, _Campagnes de 1810-11_, p. 121.

On the morning of the 6th the French retired behind the Saltillo river,

leaving the 3rd Division (now commanded by Cassagne, for Villatte had

been wounded) on the further side, with orders to retire when seriously

attacked, and to issue a signal for the blowing up of all the forts

of the south wing of the Lines, at the moment that the retreat should

begin. Cassagne was then to rejoin the Marshal behind the Rio San

Pedro, beyond Puerto Real, skirmishing as he went. But no trace of the

Allies was to be seen on the morning of the 6th, and Cassagne was not

forced to move back, though by mistake one battery was blown up without

the signal being given[163]. The only sign of life on the part of the

enemy was that a swarm of English gunboats and launches appeared at

the north end of the lines, and threw ashore 600 seamen and marines,

who occupied Puerto Santa Maria for some hours, and destroyed all the

smaller batteries between that place and Rota unhindered. For the

French had concentrated in the fort of Santa Catalina and abandoned

all their minor posts. But the flotilla withdrew at dusk, leaving

Victor much puzzled as to the purpose of his adversaries. On the

morning of March 7th he sent out a cavalry reconnaissance of several

squadrons, which brought back the astonishing news that it had explored

the whole of the country between Chiclana and the sea, including the

battlefield, and had seen no hostile troops, save a large encampment on

the Bermeja isthmus, just above the bridge of boats leading into the

Isla de Leon.

[163] See, for a curious note concerning this incident, Lapéne,

Appendix, p. 256.

What had happened was that La Peña had determined to give up the

expedition and retire to Cadiz. He had declined to listen to a

proposition made by Graham and Admiral Keats that he should advance

cautiously towards Chiclana, while the British naval and land forces

made a combined attack upon the Trocadero[164]. He did not even send

out cavalry patrols to discover what had become of Victor; if they had

gone forth, they would have found that the Marshal had retired beyond

the Saltillo, and would have discerned his preparations for a general

retreat. But after remaining encamped by the Torre Bermeja during the

whole of the 6th and the greater part of the 7th, the Spanish army

crossed the bridge of boats into the Isla, and took it up behind them.

Only Beguines and his three battalions were left on the continent,

with orders to return to their old haunts in the Ronda mountains. This

little force retired to Medina Sidonia on the 8th, and repulsed there

a French column of 600 men which came up to occupy the town. But next

day a whole brigade marched against them, whereupon Beguines evacuated

Medina and went off towards San Roque and Algesiras.

[164] It is sometimes asserted that La Peña proposed to continue

the campaign, and was foiled by Graham’s departure into the Isla.

But we have Graham’s own statement, in his dispatch to Henry

Wellesley of March 24, that no such proposal was made. ‘The only

regret expressed to me at Head Quarters on the morning of the

6th, on knowing of my intention to send the British troops across

the Santi Petri, was that the opportunity of withdrawing the

Spanish troops during the night was lost, and on my observing

that after such a defeat there was no risk of attack from the

enemy, a very contrary opinion was expressed.’

Victor was therefore able on the 8th to reoccupy the evacuated southern

wing of his lines, and to issue an absurd dispatch, in which he claimed

that Barrosa had been a victory. But for the loss of 2,000 men, and a

severe shock inflicted on the morale of his troops, he was in exactly

the same position that he had held on the 4th. The whole fruits of

the battle of Barrosa had been lost. What they might have been it is

possible up to a certain point to foresee. Supposing that Graham and

not La Peña had been in command, the army, raised to nearly 20,000

men by the junction of Zayas and of the 2,000 Anglo-Portuguese still

in Cadiz, would have marched on Chiclana upon the 6th. Victor would

have blown up the Lines and retired towards Seville, but there would

have been no reinforcements for him there, and he could only have been

brought up to fighting strength by the calling in of Sebastiani and

Godinot. But, if these generals came up to his aid, Granada and Cordova

would have had to be evacuated, and the insurgents would have swept all

over Eastern Andalusia. The Allies could not have held the field, for

even before Soult’s return from Badajoz there were still 50,000 French

troops south of the Sierra Morena. The siege of Cadiz would ultimately,

no doubt, have been recommenced, Granada and Cordova reoccupied. But

meanwhile the immense work spent on the Lines would have had to be

recommenced _de novo_, and the ascendancy of the French arms in the

south would have received a rude shock. Possibly Soult might have blown

up Badajoz after its fall on March 12th, instead of holding it, for

he would have required all his strength to reconquer Andalusia. But

further than the immediate result of the inevitable raising of the

siege of Cadiz it is useless to make speculations.

The alarms of the French in Andalusia did not end with Victor’s

reoccupation of the lines. Another episode was still to be played out

before matters settled down. The indefatigable Ballasteros, having

rested for a short time in Portugal, came back into the Condado de

Niebla in the end of February with 4,000 men. He defeated on the Rio

Tinto General Remond, whose weak column was the only French force left

west of the Guadalquivir since Gazan’s departure (March 2). He then

marched promptly on Seville, having good information of the weakness

of the garrison that had been left there. On March 5th, the day of

Barrosa, he was at San Lucar la Mayor, only twenty miles from the great

city. The governor, Daricau, came out against him and joined Remond

with 1,600 men and three guns, all that he could dispose of, leaving

Seville in the hands of a miserable garrison, composed of convalescents

and _Juramentados_ of doubtful faith. If Daricau had been beaten, the

city and all its establishments must have been lost in a day. But

Ballasteros refused to fight, and retired behind the Rio Tinto, having

had false news that a force sent from Estremadura by Soult was on

his flank. Daricau returned to Seville on March 9th, leaving Remond

to observe Ballasteros, and was joined by some detachments sent very

tardily by Godinot to strengthen the garrison. But he had received

such alarming accounts of the results of the battle of Barrosa, that

he sent these troops on to Victor, and remained with a very weak force

in the city. But on March 9th Ballasteros, suddenly coming back from

the Rio Tinto, surprised Remond at La Palma, took two guns from him,

and drove him back into Seville. On the 11th the Spanish general was

back at San Lucar, and causing great dismay to Daricau, who sent urgent

demands for help to Soult. Since Barrosa he could look for no help from

elsewhere. He was saved by the rumour of the capitulation of Badajoz,

which frightened Ballasteros away, for the Spaniard rightly judged that

Soult could, and must, send a considerable force against him, now that

his hands were freed.

When, therefore, the Marshal, as we have already seen[165], came back

in haste to Andalusia with Gazan’s division, fearing that he might find

Ballasteros in Seville, and Graham pursuing Victor from the evacuated

lines of Cadiz, he was agreeably surprised to find that both dangers

had been avoided, and that the crisis in Andalusia was at an end. His

further movements belong to a different campaign, and will be related

in their due place.

[165] See p. 62 above.

Meanwhile Graham and La Peña were engaged in a violent controversy. The

British general had sent the most scathing comments on his colleague’s

conduct to the ambassador, Henry Wellesley, and to Wellington, and made

his complaints also to the Regency. La Peña on the other hand claimed

the credit of the victory of Barrosa for his own skilful management;

according to his magniloquent dispatches all had gone well, till Graham

spoilt the campaign by taking his division back to Cadiz. The Regency

seemed partly to believe him, as they conferred on him the Grand Cross

of the Order of Charles III, though at the same time they offered

Graham the title of a grandee of Spain, which he refused, for he would

not be honoured in such company. But Spanish as well as British public

opinion was so much against La Peña, that he was almost immediately

deprived of his command, which was given to the Marquis Coupigny; while

Graham, whose strong language had made it impossible for him to be left

in contact with the Regency, was withdrawn to serve with Wellington in

Portugal, and made over the charge of the Anglo-Portuguese troops at

Cadiz to General Cooke. Summing up the results of the Barrosa campaign,

we may say that all it had accomplished was so to alarm Soult that he

came back in haste from Estremadura, leaving there under Mortier a

force far too weak to threaten any harm to Wellington and Portugal. But

even if Barrosa had never been fought, Soult would have been harmless

in any case, because Masséna was gone from Santarem before Badajoz

fell.

SECTION XXIV

MASSÉNA’S RETREAT FROM PORTUGAL

CHAPTER I

SANTAREM TO CELORICO. MARCH 9TH-22ND, 1811

On the 9th of March Wellington began at last to discover the real

position of the various French corps; till their rear was well past

Thomar, it had been difficult to divine the main trend of their

movements, for the various columns had been crossing each other’s

routes in a very puzzling fashion. But it now became clear that Masséna

was intending to use all the three lines of communication which lead

from the plain of the Tagus to the lower valley of the Mondego. Reynier

and the 2nd Corps, after passing Thomar, had taken the bad mountain

road by Cabaços and Espinhal, far to the east, and would come down on

to the Mondego near the Ponte de Murcella, a little above Coimbra.

The 8th Corps had taken the central road, that by Chão de Maçans and

Ameiro, which joins the main Lisbon-Coimbra _chaussée_ at Pombal.

Loison and his division, having crossed the route of Reynier, fell

into the Chão de Maçans road behind Junot. Ney, after holding Leiria

till the 9th, with the divisions of Marchand and Mermet, fell back on

that day a march along the great road in the plain (the Lisbon-Coimbra

_chaussée_ mentioned above), and then halted. In front of him was

marching Drouet with Conroux’s division of the 9th Corps, escorting the

main train of the army, such as it was; it reached Travaço do Baixo,

five miles south of Pombal, on the night of the 9th. Montbrun’s reserve

cavalry was all with Ney. Of the three columns Reynier’s was 11,000

strong, that formed by Junot with Loison in his rear had about 16,000

men, that of Ney and Montbrun, with Conroux in front of them, comprised

over 20,000 sabres and bayonets. The main fact to be borne in mind by

the British general was that Reynier had been sent on an external

road, separated by a very difficult mountain chain from those followed

by the other two columns, but that Ney and Junot would undoubtedly

unite at Pombal, where their roads met, so that a mass of 35,000 men

would be collected at that important centre of communication on the

10th or the 11th. But Reynier could not join them till the columns

should have got down to the Mondego, some days later[166]. Masséna was,

rightly enough, trying to use as many roads as possible, both to avoid

overcrowding of troops and trains on a single road, and also in order

that wider foraging might be possible, when the army should get out of

the devastated region north of Thomar, and descend into the valley of

the Mondego, where it was hoped that food would be far more procurable.

But the result of the disposition was that Reynier would not be

available for several days, if the British threw their main force on to

the rear of Ney and Junot and brought them to action.

[166] The forces of the French corps five days later (but the

numbers were much the same still) were, to be exact [Return of

March 15 in French _Archives Nationales_]--

Reynier’s 2nd Corps 10,251 men

Junot’s 8th Corps 9,794 ”

Loison’s Division 4,734 ”

Ney’s other Divisions, horse and foot 11,066 ”

Montbrun’s Reserve Cavalry 2,435 ”

Conroux’s Division of the 9th Corps 5,000 ”

Artillery Reserves, Train, Sappers,

Marine Battalion, &c. 5,855 ”

------

Total 49,135 men

all exclusive of sick and wounded.

The road Leiria-Coimbra was moreover both the best and the shortest

of all those that led from the position now reached by Wellington’s

marching columns to the valley of the Mondego. By following it, and

hustling hard the French column that had taken it, the commander of

the Allies might hope to reach Coimbra in time to prevent the French

from taking up a secure position on the lower Mondego, and establishing

themselves in cantonments on its banks. For it was his main object to

turn them away from Coimbra and the coast-plain, and to force them up

into the eastern mountains and towards the borders of Spain. At first

he did not think that the line of the Mondego could be held against

the retreating French by the trifling Portuguese militia force that

lay behind it--Trant’s seven battalions at Coimbra, Wilson’s four at

Peñacova, which did not amount together to more than 5,000 or 6,000

troops of very inferior quality. He issued orders to those generals

to retire, without committing themselves to an attempt to defend the

line of the river--Trant had better go behind the Vouga, Wilson might

retire on Vizeu; both would ultimately join the northern reserves under

Baccelar, and co-operate with that general in defending the city of

Oporto[167]. But Wellington hoped that matters would never reach the

point at which the safety of Oporto came in question, for he thought

that he would be pressing the rear of the French so hard in a few

days, that they would be thinking of other things than taking the

offensive against northern Portugal. He would do his best to thrust

them north-eastward, towards the frontiers of Spain. As a matter of

fact we shall see that he more than fulfilled his own forecast, for the

French were so hotly pursued that they never succeeded in crossing the

Mondego or seizing Coimbra. When they had reached its gates, Masséna

refused to take the risk of passing the river at a moment when his rear

was in such dire trouble that the whole army would have been in danger

of destruction, if he had been attacked when the actual operation of

passage was in progress.

[167] Wellington to Baccelar, March 8: ‘I conclude that Colonel

Trant will have retired from Coimbra upon the bridge of the

Vouga, which he should destroy, and from thence on Oporto. The

enemy have no boats, and I hope to be able to press them so hard

that they can get none on the Mondego.... If the enemy should

turn toward Vizeu, you will of course do all that you can to

annoy them in their march, but send all your baggage, &c., across

the Douro.’ (_Dispatches_, vii. p. 347.)

Meanwhile the original movement of Reynier, Junot, and Loison towards

Thomar had caused Wellington to spread his pursuing troops more towards

the east than was convenient, when it turned out that only Reynier was

taking the mountain road towards Espinhal, and that the other columns

were going to join Ney on the Leiria-Coimbra road. Originally only

the Light Division and Pack’s Portuguese had followed Ney, and they

formed the only body of troops available for the pursuit of what was

now detected to be the largest body of the enemy, until the other

divisions should come up from the rear, or be marched westward from the

Thomar region.

On the 9th Wellington’s total available force, minus the 2nd Division

and Hamilton’s Portuguese, now halted about Abrantes and destined

for Estremadura, and minus also the regiments just landed at Lisbon,

was about 46,000 men[168]. Of these the Light Division and Pack’s

Portuguese, with Anson’s cavalry brigade (now under Arentschildt), were

at Leiria, in close touch with Ney’s retreating corps. But the 1st,

4th, and 6th Divisions and De Grey’s heavy dragoons were at Thomar, two

full marches east of the Light Division; Picton with the 3rd Division

was at Porto de Mos on the Santarem-Leiria _chaussée_, a day’s journey

behind the vanguard. The 5th Division and the independent Portuguese

brigade of Ashworth were a march behind Picton, about Alcanhede.

[168] Viz.:

1st Division 8,100 of all ranks, all British

3rd Division 4,500 ” and 1,550 Portuguese

4th Division 4,800 ” and 2,100 ”

5th Division 3,800 ” and 1,800 ”

6th Division 3,850 ” and 2,300 ”

Light Division 3,400 ” and 900 ”

Pack’s Portuguese Brigade 2,100

Ashworth’s Portuguese Brigade 2,500

Cavalry, British 2,430

” Portuguese 500

Artillery, British 1,000

” Portuguese 500

Engineers, Waggon Train, &c. 200

------ ------

Total British 32,080 and 14,250 Portuguese

The 2nd Division, left behind near Abrantes, had about 6,100

of all ranks. Hamilton’s Portuguese Division about 4,200,

Fane’s British (13th Lt. Dragoons) and Portuguese cavalry was

about 1,000 sabres, artillery of both nations for the Army of

Estremadura about 500. The 7th Division, now being formed at

Lisbon, was composed of 2,800 British and 2,300 Portuguese. There

were two battalions not belonging to the 7th Division marching up

with it, with 1,300 bayonets (2/52nd, 2/88th).

If Ney were to be joined by Junot and Loison, as now seemed probable,

in the direction of Pombal, it would take one full day for the 3rd

Division to join the vanguard, two full days for the rest of the army

to come up. It would not be till the 11th that a mass of combatants

would be collected sufficient to attack the enemy, if he held the

Pombal position. And this concentration had to be carried out for

safety’s sake; it would have been insane to bid the Light Division and

Pack, the only troops immediately available, to fall upon Ney and Junot

and their 35,000 men. Accordingly Wellington directed the 3rd and 5th

Divisions to close up rapidly upon the vanguard along the _chaussée_,

while the mass of troops around Thomar was to follow the Chão de

Maçans road in Junot’s track and unite with the other column in front

of Pombal on the 11th. Only Nightingale’s brigade of the 1st Division

was detached, with one squadron of dragoons, to follow Reynier on his

‘eccentric’ line of retreat, along the rough mountain road to Espinhal.

Forty-three thousand men out of the 46,000 which formed the disposable

total of Wellington’s army were sent in pursuit of Masséna’s main body.

The bringing up of the rear divisions took time. Meanwhile the

Light Division with Pack’s Portuguese and the attached cavalry,

now united under the temporary control of Sir William Erskine (for

Robert Craufurd, the natural commander of such a vanguard, was on

leave in England), kept close to Ney’s heels, and on the 10th were

at Venda Nova, immediately in front of his position at Pombal. The

4th Division were at Cacharia on the same night, the 1st and 6th at

Acentis and other villages near Thomar, the 3rd at Leiria, the 5th

at Porto de Mos. All these marches were executed through a country

full of scenes of horror: Picton, not a man easily to be moved by

sentiment, wrote, ‘Nothing can exceed the devastation and cruelties

committed by the enemy during his retreat: he has set fire to all the

villages and murdered all the peasantry for leagues on each flank of

his march[169].’ The large town of Leiria was burning in five places

when the Light Division reached it. The great historic monasteries

of Alcobaça and Batalha had been wrecked in mere spite--the former,

according to Wellington, by direct order from the French head quarters.

Every by-road and ravine was strewn with corpses; a note from Grattan’s

interesting journal of the marches of the 88th gives an average picture

of what the British army saw. ‘At the entrance of a cave,’ he writes,

‘lay an old man, a woman, and two young men, all dead. The cave, no

doubt, had served them as an asylum in the preceding winter, and

appearances warranted the supposition that these poor creatures, in a

vain effort to save their little store of provisions, fell victims to

the ferocity of their murderers. The clothes of the young peasants were

torn to atoms, and bore testimony that they did not lose their lives

without a struggle. The hands of one were dreadfully mangled, as if in

his last efforts he had grasped the sword which ultimately dispatched

him. Beside him lay his companion, his brother perhaps, covered with

wounds. A little to the right was the old man: he lay on his back with

his breast bare; two large wounds were over his heart, and the back of

his head was beaten to pieces. Near him lay an old rusty bayonet lashed

to a pole; one of his hands grasped a bunch of hair, torn no doubt from

the head of his assassin; the old woman had probably been strangled, as

no wound appeared on her body. At some distance from the spot were two

wounded soldiers of the French 4th Léger, abandoned by their comrades.

These poor wretches were surrounded by half a dozen Portuguese, who

were taking on them the horrible vengeance common during this contest.

On our approach they dispersed and fled: both the Frenchmen were still

alive, and asked us to shoot them. We dared not, and when we had

passed on, we could perceive the peasants descending from the hill,

like vultures who have been scared from their prey, but return with

redoubled voracity.’

[169] Picton to Col. Pleydell, a letter printed in Robinson’s

_Life of Picton_, i. 385.

Before the marching divisions came up from the rear, there was a

cavalry skirmish in front of Pombal between Arentschildt’s Light

Horse (16th and 1st Hussars of the K.G.L.) and some of Montbrun’s

dragoons, which was of little importance as to results, but assumes

such a different complexion in the narratives of the combatants on the

opposite sides that it is hardly possible to believe that they are

writing of the same event[170].

[170] Narrative of Delagrave: ‘La cavalerie anglaise se déployait

avec une certaine audace, et semblait vouloir provoquer un

combat. Le Général Montbrun s’avança fièrement pour l’accepter.

Les Anglais avaient des chevaux plus frais que les nôtres, et

ils semblaient s’en prévaloir. Mais nos gens avaient pour eux le

vrai courage et le sang-froid. Quelques escadrons de dragons,

les plus avancés, en voyant qu’on les chargeait au grand galop,

s’arrêtèrent et poussèrent le sabre en avant, et dans cette

position reçurent de pied ferme l’ennemi. Cette manœuvre eut

un plein succès. L’ennemi fut rompu, désuni, il eut beaucoup

d’hommes et de chevaux tant tués que blessés. Ensuite les nôtres,

dont pas un n’avait été touché, tirant un prompt parti de leur

bon ordre, et du désordre des Anglais, chargèrent à leur tour,

et eurent en quelques minutes bon marché de cette troupe, qui

avait d’abord montré tant d’audace.’ (_Campagne de Portugal_, pp.

191-2.)

Narrative of Tomkinson, 16th Light Dragoons: ‘We followed the

enemy up to the Pombal plain, where they showed eight squadrons

formed on the heath in front. The Hussars advanced with one

squadron in front and three in support, on which the enemy’s

skirmishers retired, and the whole eight squadrons began to

withdraw. We passed the defile in our front, and came up in time

to join the Hussars in their charge. We charged and broke one

squadron of the enemy, drove that on to the second, and so on,

till the whole eight were altogether in the greatest confusion,

when we drove them on to their main support. We wounded several

and took a few prisoners, and should have made more, but that

they were so thick that we could not get into them. The French

officers called on the men supporting to advance: but not a man

moved.’ (_Diary_, p. 79.)

The returns show that the total loss of the British cavalry was

nine men on this day. Six belonged to the Hussars. The report

states that one officer and eleven men of the French were taken

prisoners (see Beamish, _History of the K.G.L._, i. p. 820).

Wellington’s dispatch merely says, ‘The Hussars distinguished

themselves in a charge, made under the command of Colonel

Arentschildt.’

During the hours on the 10th of March, while the English columns were

toiling up from the rear to join the Light Division, Ney’s and Junot’s

corps remained stationary, the former at the town of Pombal, the latter

at Venda da Cruz, five miles behind it, resting, and seeking (mostly

in vain) for provisions. Masséna was determined not to move backward

before he should be obliged. Montbrun’s dragoons reconnoitred as far as

the bridge of Coimbra, which they found with two of its arches broken,

and cannon visible on the further side. The small force in sight was

the rearguard of Trant’s Militia brigade, which (in accordance with

Wellington’s orders) was preparing to draw back towards the Vouga,

but held on to Coimbra till a serious attack should be delivered.

Masséna thereupon ordered his engineer, Colonel Valazé, to search for

a convenient spot below the town, at which a flying bridge might be

thrown across the Mondego. On this day Reynier and the 2nd Corps, far

off on the eastern mountain road, reached Espinhal, the first village

beyond the Serra da Estrella. As that place has a by-road leading to

Coimbra, this detached body was getting nearer to a possible reunion

with the main body.

On the morning of March 11th the 3rd Division joined Wellington’s

vanguard after a toilsome march, and the 4th Division, heading the

column which came from Thomar, was reported to be in supporting

distance. Ney, apparently having detected the arrival of British

reinforcements, then drew back one of his divisions, and left the

other (Mermet) in position on the heights behind the town, with a

single battalion holding the lofty but ruined castle which dominates

the place. Wellington, on perceiving that the enemy was drawing back,

ordered Elder’s battalion of Caçadores[171], supported by two companies

of the 95th Rifles, to charge across the bridge and occupy the town,

while the rest of the Light Division advanced in support, and Picton

moved to the left, to cross the stream lower down. The attacking

force passed the narrow bridge under fire, cleared the nearer streets

and assailed the castle and the small force left there. Seeing his

rearguard in danger of being cut off, and noting that Elder’s force

was small, Ney came down from the heights with four battalions of

the 6th Léger and the 69th Ligne, thrust back the Caçadores and the

supporting rifle companies, and brought off the troops in the castle.

He barricaded the main street, and set fire to the houses along it in

several places before departing; these precautions detained for some

minutes the main column of the Light Division, which was hurrying

up to reinforce its van. The French were all retiring up the hill

before they could be got at, and only suffered a little from Ross’s

guns, which were hurried up to play upon the retreating column, as it

re-formed in the position beyond Pombal. By the time that the Light

Division had disentangled itself from the burning town, and Picton had

crossed the stream on the left, the day was far spent; and Ney retired

at his leisure after dark, without having been further incommoded.

The British followed, and encamped on the further side of the water,

ready for pursuit next morning. Ney was much praised for the tactical

skill which he had shown in saving his rearguard, and Erskine was

thought to have handled the Light Division clumsily. The French

losses, trifling as they were, much exceeded those of the Allies--they

lost four officers and fifty-nine men, all in the 6th and 69th. The

Caçadores lost ten rank and file killed, and an officer and twenty

men wounded--the two companies of the 95th had an ensign and four men

wounded--a total of thirty-seven, little more than half the French loss.

[171] No. 3 of that arm.

Late on this day the 4th Division came up, and the 5th, 6th, and 1st

were reported to be close behind, so that Wellington had his main body

at last collected. He started the decisive operations on the following

morning at 5 o’clock, advancing in three columns towards Venda da Cruz,

where Ney had been located on the previous night by the cavalry scouts.

Picton and the 3rd Division were on the right, Pack’s Portuguese in

the centre, the Light Division on the left, with the 4th Division

supporting on the high-road, and the rest following behind. But the

enemy had retired at an equally early hour, and was not to be found at

Venda da Cruz. He had gone back to Redinha, where there is a bridge

over the Souré river, forming a defile behind the village, and a high

plateau flanked by woods in its front. Mermet’s division formed on

the plateau, with Marchand’s in support, while the rest of the French

were not far off, Loison’s division being at Rabaçal, three miles to

the east, and Junot’s corps at Condeixa, five miles behind Redinha.

Drouet, with Conroux’s division, had started during the night on the

road for Ponte de Murcella and the Spanish frontier, escorting a convoy

of 800 sick and wounded and the small remains of the reserve park of

the army. He had orders to clear the _chaussée_ and to get into touch

with Claparéde, who was now lying with the other division of the 9th

Corps at Celorico. This detachment would have revealed to Wellington,

had he known of it, that Masséna was more anxious to secure his line of

communication with Spain than to seize Coimbra and establish himself

on the line of the Mondego. For a good general, intending to take

risks in a general action, does not detach 5,000 men on the eve of the

decisive day. It is only second-rate commanders who (like King Joseph

at Vittoria in 1813) commit such mistakes.

It is clear that if Masséna had intended to make a serious blow at

Coimbra, he ought to have done so at latest on the 10th or 11th,

before the English army was close enough to hinder him. Junot’s corps,

which was entirely covered by Ney and the rearguard, was well placed

for a blow at the city, as it was little more than ten miles from the

Mondego and the broken bridge. But Masséna did not march Junot in

this direction, but kept him in a position to support Ney, while only

some squadrons of Montbrun’s cavalry were sent against Coimbra. That

general’s proceedings showed great timidity and feebleness. On the

afternoon of the 10th, according to Trant’s dispatch, his advanced

guard appeared on the Monte de Esperança, the height opposite Coimbra,

and was seen to send down reconnoitring parties towards the banks of

the river, both above and below the city, leaving unmolested the broken

bridge, behind which were the guns placed in the battery which Trant

had thrown up to protect his retreat. Much rain had fallen on the

preceding night, the river was full, and Montbrun’s scouts reported to

him and to his companion the Engineer-colonel Valazé that they could

not find the fords which, as they had been told, were situated at the

spots that they had visited. On the following day (March 11th), while

the skirmish of Pombal was going on, Montbrun moved in nearer to the

city, showing artillery and a cavalry brigade at the Cruz dos Moroiços,

and occupying the convent of Santa Clara, which lies less than a mile

from the bridge. One of his squadrons tried to pass at the ford of

Pereira, five miles below the city, but owing to the strength of the

current failed completely, the men who first tried the water regaining

with difficulty the bank from which they had started. Nothing more was

done by the French that day, and Montbrun reported to Masséna that he

had received information that the whole of the brigades of Trant and

Silveira were in Coimbra, and that he had seen artillery in position at

the bridge[172]. The real force opposed to him was seven battalions

of Militia, some 3,000 men, and six guns. This was the last day on

which it would have been possible for the French to seize Coimbra,

for from the 12th onward Wellington was pressing them so hard that,

if they had set themselves to force the passage, and had succeeded,

their rearguard, and probably a great portion of their main body, would

have been destroyed. For Ney, with all his tactical skill, could not

have shaken off his pursuers in such a way as to allow 30,000 men to

file over a single bridge, hastily repaired, when the Allies were in

hot pursuit. The French engineers, indeed, reported that it would take

several days to mend the bridge, even when the Portuguese had been

driven away from the further bank. The main comment suggested by all

this is that, since Masséna was intending to hold out on the Mondego,

and to occupy its northern bank, according to his own dispatch sent to

Napoleon, he ought to have taken measures to secure a safe passage many

days back--at the first moment when his retreat began on the 5th of

March. Part of the mass of troops accumulated at Leiria ought to have

marched for Coimbra on March 6th. It was altogether too late to send a

mere flying cavalry force to appear in front of the place on March 10th.

[172] Some French authorities, favourable to Masséna, assert

that he was not responsible for the failure to occupy Coimbra,

that Ney, on the 10th, had been told to send Marcognet’s brigade

to support Montbrun, who said that he could not succeed without

infantry help (Pelet, _Notes sur la campagne de Portugal_, p.

334). But Ney, it is said would not detach the brigade. This

seems most improbable, for (1) Junot’s corps, which was in

Ney’s rear and five miles nearer to Coimbra, would have been

the natural source from which to seek for infantry supports for

Montbrun, and (2) Masséna does not accuse Ney of this particular

piece of disobedience in his report to Berthier of March 19, nor

in the later one of March 22, when he is giving his reasons for

superseding his colleague and sending him home to France. He

simply says, in recounting his reasons for not seizing Coimbra,

that Montbrun and the engineers reported ‘that the river was in

flood, that the bridge had two arches broken, that the left bank

was occupied by the forces of Trant and Silveira, and defended by

cannon. It would have required several days to repair the bridge

and to drive the Portuguese out of Coimbra; there was no pontoon

train with the army, and not a single boat on the Mondego. In

face of the danger of being attacked by Wellington’s whole force

while the passage was in progress, he resolved to renounce it.’

The one battalion of infantry which was sent to Montbrun’s aid on

the 12th came from Solignac’s division in Junot’s corps--as might

have been expected.

On March 12th Montbrun was prowling ineffectively along the south bank

of the Mondego, and setting his horse artillery to engage in a futile

exchange of fire with Trant’s guns, while a battalion of infantry

borrowed from Junot tried to creep upon the bridge, but was detected

and driven off by grape. But Ney was already engaged in such sharp

fighting at Redinha that he could not have drawn his troops off, or

have escaped towards Coimbra, even if the passage of the Mondego had

been forced. Wellington, it will be remembered, was advancing towards

the 6th Corps in the morning, when he found that it had retired from

Venda da Cruz on to another position. His cavalry discovered that not

only was he in presence of the 6th Corps, but that another French

column was on his flank at Rabaçal (this was Loison’s division).

Moreover, the 8th Corps was known to be not far off, for stragglers

and sick from it had been picked up upon the preceding day. Seeing

therefore that he might be called upon to face some 30,000 men, the

British general resolved not to open the fight over hastily. When his

three leading columns came up, Pack in the centre, Picton on the right,

the Light Division on the left, they were halted in front of Mermet’s

line, and deployed; but no attack was made till the 4th Division had

reached the front line and joined Pack, while the 1st and 5th were

close behind. Then, at two o’clock in the afternoon, an encircling

attack was made on Mermet’s rearguard, the wings being thrown forward,

while the centre was somewhat held back. The 3rd Division, entering

the woods on the French left, the Light Division those on their right,

advanced as quickly as they could through difficult ground. Pack and

the 4th Division halted beyond musket-range of the centre, but suffered

a little from artillery fire while waiting for the flank attacks to

develop. After some twenty minutes of hot skirmishing among the trees,

Mermet’s flanks were turned by Picton on the side of the hills, and

by the Light Division on the side of the plain, and Ney hastily drew

back his front line behind the stream and the defile, where Marchand’s

division was waiting in support. The retreating battalions were

somewhat jammed at the bridge, and lost heavily, while passing it only

a few yards in front of the skirmishers of the Light Division. Picton

tried to ford the stream higher up, in order to cut off the retreating

force before it could reach its supports, but failed, the water turning

out too deep and rapid for passage[173].

[173] I spent two interesting hours at Redinha on September 29,

1910, going round the battle-ground, guided by Mr. Reynolds of

Barreiro. The village is most irregularly built, and the way to

the bridge not obvious, the streets being tortuous and narrow.

The place is easy to defend, but not easy to get out of. A

courteous denizen of Redinha, Mr. J. J. Leitão, presented me

with an unexploded British shrapnel shell, which he had got out

of the sand of the river-bed just above the bridge. Several more

had been found on this spot; they must have been thrown by the

pursuing British artillery at the French column hurrying over

the bridge, and had fallen short, into the water. Each contained

thirty-two balls, but the powder had decayed into an impalpable

red dust. The shell that we got is now in the United Service

Museum.

It took some time to file the Light and 3rd Divisions over the bridge,

and to make a new line in face of Ney’s second position on the ridge

two miles beyond the stream. But when the two divisions once more went

forward, each turning, as before, the enemy’s flank opposed to it,

while Pack and the 5th Division formed up again in the centre, Ney gave

back without any very strenuous resistance, and, abandoning his second

position, fell back upon Condeixa, a village with a defile in front of

it, five miles north of Redinha on the great Coimbra _chaussée_.

The day’s work had been a very pretty piece of manœuvring on both

sides. Ney hung on to his two successive positions just so long as was

safe, and absconded on each occasion at the critical moment, when his

flanks were turned. A quarter of an hour’s more delay would have been

ruin, but the retreat was made just in time. The two stands had delayed

Wellington for a day, and his army had only advanced ten miles in the

twenty-four hours. Yet it is unjust to accuse the British general of

over-caution, as Napier and all the French annalists have done. He was

quite right not to attack with the first division that came up, and

to wait till he had three and a half in line. For he was aware that

great strength lay in front of him, and, for all he knew, the troops of

Mermet might have been supported not only by Marchand, as was actually

the case, but by the whole of Junot’s corps. In that case an early

attack would have meant a bloody check, and an enforced wait, till the

3rd, 4th, 1st, and 5th Divisions should have come up. As it was, the

French rearguard was dislodged with a very modest loss on the part of

the Allies, 12 officers and 193 men, of whom the large majority were

in the Light and 3rd Divisions, the troops which had done the work.

But the 4th Division and Pack’s Portuguese suffered some casualties,

while waiting under cannon-fire for the flanking movement to take

effect[174]. The French loss was 14 officers and 213 men, nearly all

from Mermet’s division, as that of Marchand was little engaged[175].

[174] See table of losses in Appendix III. Of the regiments the

chief losers were the 95th (13 men), and 52nd (18 men).

[175] Of the fourteen French officers killed and wounded no less

than thirteen were from the 25th Léger, and 27th and 50th Ligne

of Mermet’s division.

During this day the 6th Division, moving apart from the rest of the

army, marched north-westward to Souré, and so got upon the western

route to Coimbra. It was apparently Wellington’s intention to push this

detachment round the western or seaward flank of the French army, so as

to threaten with it the right wing of any position that the enemy might

take up across the Coimbra _chaussée_. Indeed, having found no hostile

force of any sort in front of it, the 6th Division was able to push

in quite close to Coimbra on the next day, and to take up a position

at Ega, which menaced Ney and Junot’s march across its front if they

should still continue their retreat in the original direction. It was

probably the movement of this division which caused the French to

believe that Wellington had landed a detached force from ships at the

mouth of the Mondego, and was pushing it forward towards Coimbra: an

account of the march of this imaginary corps is to be found in several

narratives[176].

[176] e. g. in Delagrave, p. 201: ‘Deux colonnes des siens

remontaient le Mondégo, le long des rives: celle qui avait

débarqué à Figuieras avait pour but principal de couvrir

Coïmbre.... L’autre, qui remontait la rive gauche, avait été

détachée de l’armée ennemie avec ordre de déborder et d’attaquer

la droite des Français.’ Belmas also speaks of this imaginary

force.

Condeixa, to which Ney had retired on the evening of the combat

of Redinha, is a most important strategical point, since here the

_chaussée_ leading to Coimbra is joined by the last crossroad which

meets it south of the Mondego, that which runs eastward to the Ponte de

Murcella and the Spanish frontier. As long as the French held Condeixa,

they were in a position to choose between an attack on Coimbra and

a retreat up the south bank of the river towards Almeida and their

base. And with Wellington at his heels, Masséna had now to make his

choice between the two courses. His dispatch of March 19th to Berthier

informs us that he resolved for a moment to offer battle to the Allies

at Condeixa, with the 6th and 8th Corps, calling in perhaps (though

he does not mention it) the 2nd Corps from Espinhal, which is no more

than twenty miles away. The reasons which he gives for not doing so are

firstly, that, since the departure of Drouet and his division on the

11th, his whole force was no more than half that of Wellington; as a

matter of fact he had still 45,000 men, his adversary just about the

same number. Secondly, that the morale of the army was impaired by long

privations and short rations. Thirdly, that the stock of ammunition was

dangerously low, and the artillery horses could hardly move. Fourthly,

that he was hampered by the fact that his lieutenants (he is alluding

to Ney in especial) were set on abandoning Portugal, ‘which contributes

in no small degree to a lack of that harmony which ought to reign in

an army.’ Fifthly, that a defeat at Condeixa would mean the inevitable

loss of all his artillery, train, wounded, and baggage, while a success

would not seriously injure Wellington, who could always retire on to

the Lines of Torres Vedras. Sixthly, that being in the midst of a

population roused to fury by the ravages of his army, he found that he

could gather in little or no food, and was fast using up the stock that

he had brought with him. Taking all these points into consideration,

and being informed by Montbrun that, even if he succeeded in seizing

Coimbra, its bridge would take two days to repair, he had resolved to

avoid a general action, to abandon any attempt to pass the Mondego, and

to draw back towards the 9th Corps and the Spanish frontier, where he

could find the food and the new equipment which the army needed.

[Illustration: REDINHA]

Accordingly, on the early morning of March 13th the decisive step which

committed Masséna to a retreat towards Celorico and the 9th Corps was

taken. The 8th Corps was marched off, covering the train, along the

road which leads by Miranda de Corvo to the Ponte de Murcella and the

upper Mondego, instead of toward Coimbra, now only eight miles away.

To cover its flank Loison’s division was moved from Rabaçal, where it

had lain on the day of the combat of Redinha, to Fonte Cuberta. Ney

remained behind at Condeixa with his two old divisions, to cover the

fork of the roads, and to detain the Allies as long as possible, while

Junot and the trains were toiling along the bad and mountainous road

towards Miranda de Corvo. The 2nd Corps was still kept at Espinhal,

where it was observed by Nightingale’s brigade, which had dogged its

steps at a cautious distance since the 9th.

These arrangements did not work very well, for Ney was turned out of

the Condeixa position, much earlier than he or Masséna had expected, by

Wellington’s skilful manœuvres. The movement used against him was much

the same as at Redinha; the 3rd Division marched by a mountain path to

turn his left, while the 6th Division, coming in from Souré by a wide

sweep, appeared at Ega, almost behind his right wing, and threatened

to get between him and Coimbra. Meanwhile the 4th and Light Divisions,

with the rest of the army behind them, were halted on distant heights

in his front, ready to attack when the turning movements should become

pronounced. Ney was, very properly, anxious about his retreat, for

he could not any longer (as at Pombal and Redinha) give back to his

rear, but was forced to take a side direction, in order to follow the

8th Corps on the Miranda de Corvo road. The moment that he saw Picton

making for this road, to cut him off from the rest of the French, he

set fire to the town of Condeixa and moved off in great haste, just

avoiding Picton, to Casal Novo, a village five miles east of his first

position, where he formed up again at dusk. The day’s operations had

been almost bloodless; nothing more than a few musket shots were

exchanged by the skirmishers of the two sides. But they had been of

the highest strategical importance, since they ended in the complete

abandonment of the attempt to reach Coimbra by the French.

Incidentally, the rapid fashion in which Ney had been evicted from the

cross-roads at Condeixa nearly led to disaster some of the outlying

fractions of the French army. Masséna himself had halted at Fonte

Cuberta, six miles to the south-east, with his staff and Loison’s

division, which was escorting the reserve artillery of the 6th and

8th Corps. He was intending to cover Ney’s left from any wide turning

movement by the British. The road on which this village lies falls

into that from Condeixa to Miranda de Corvo about three miles from the

first-named place. Ney, when preparing to evacuate Condeixa, sent an

aide-de-camp to advise the Commander-in-Chief that he was about to

retire. But the officer charged with the message lost his way, and only

arrived at Fonte Cuberta late in the afternoon with the dispatch[177].

By this time Ney had already reached Casal Novo, some distance beyond

the point at which the Fonte Cuberta road fell into his line of

retreat. Masséna and the division in his company were therefore cut

off from their proper route for retiring on to the main army. Within

a few minutes after the arrival of Ney’s messenger, a patrol of the

German hussars arrived at the village, and nearly rode into Masséna and

his staff, who were dining in the open air under a tree outside its

entrance. There was a mutual surprise; the Marshal’s escort of fifty

men ran to their arms, while the hussars halted, not understanding what

they had come upon. If they had charged, Masséna might have been taken

or slain, as several French narrators assert. He mounted and galloped

back in haste towards Loison’s infantry, who were camped in and beyond

the village. The hussars went off to report to their squadron commander

that Fonte Cuberta was still occupied--it had been with the object of

obtaining information on this point that the reconnaissance had been

sent out. Masséna hastened to put Loison’s men under march for Casal

Novo, by a very rugged side-track, called up Clausel’s division to

cover him, and got off in the dusk unhindered, save by a few flank

skirmishers belonging to Picton’s division, who came upon him in the

dark and were brushed away with ease[178].

[177] Marbot says that the officer arrived four hours after the

evacuation of Condeixa, though that place is only five miles from

Fonte Cuberta (_Mémoires_, ii. 443). Fririon makes a much graver

accusation against Ney, viz. that he sent no messenger at all,

and that the allied cavalry were discovered by an officer named

Girbault on Masséna’s staff.

[178] For an account of this curious affair see Fririon, Noël

(who was with Loison at the moment), Pelet, and Marbot. The

latter (as always) gives the most picturesque and probably the

least trustworthy account. He forgets to mention that Fonte

Cuberta was occupied by Loison’s 4,500 infantry, and writes as

if a squadron of hussars had retired before Masséna’s escort

of 50 men. According to him the Marshal’s night-retreat was

much disturbed by the misadventures of his mistress (Renique’s

sister), whose horse repeatedly fell in the dark and rolled over

her, to his intense anxiety. Masséna’s dispatch says only, ‘Le

duc d’Elchingen abandonna la position de Condeixa plus tôt que

je ne le croyais. Le poste de Fonte Cuberta était découvert, et

l’artillerie qui s’y trouvait compromise. J’ai gagné avec elle

la grande route par une marche de flanc, à portée de canon de la

ligne ennemie, par un beau clair de lune.’

This incident led to a furious quarrel between Masséna and Ney, for

the former asserted, as it seems, that the latter had promised to hold

Condeixa for a whole day or more, and had moved off at noon out of mere

malice, so as to leave his chief in an exposed position. If we may

believe the narrative of Masséna’s aide-de-camp, Fririon, he asserted

that Ney had deliberately wished to get him captured, and had executed

his retreat ‘clandestinement’[179]. It was impossible to persuade him

to the contrary, and he saved up his wrath for the next occasion when

he should be able to convict Ney of open disobedience, and not of

mere errors of judgement. There can be no doubt that he was doing an

injustice to his lieutenant in suspecting him of such a monstrous plot:

Ney was a man of honour; Masséna had himself such a doubtful record for

probity that we can well understand his suspicion of others. In truth,

what happened was that the younger Marshal had promised to defend

Condeixa longer than was really possible, when Wellington (as on this

day) was in his happiest mood, and manœuvring with a skill which made a

long resistance impracticable.

[179] ‘Le Maréchal Masséna crut voir dans ce mouvement opéré à

son insu l’intention de le faire tomber, lui et son état-major,

entre les mains de l’ennemi. Le Général Fririon chercha à lui

faire entendre qu’il devait attribuer ce fait à un oubli plutôt

qu’à un sentiment de malveillance. Mais il lui fut impossible de

le persuader. “Cette conduite est inexcusable,” lui dit Masséna;

“le mouvement rétrograde de ces deux divisions était exécuté

clandestinement; c’est un acte que rien ne peut justifier.”’

(Fririon, pp. 150-1.)

But Loison’s division was not the only French force which was in

serious danger on March 13. Montbrun had lingered in front of Coimbra,

till his retreat also was imperilled by the loss of Condeixa and its

all-important bifurcation of roads. At eight o’clock in the morning

he had made his last vain attempt to win his way into the city--this

time by negotiation. He sent a _parlementaire_ on to the broken bridge,

with a demand that Trant should give up the place, and a promise that

the citizens should suffer no harm, and the garrison should be allowed

free egress. This last was really not his to grant, for during the

night Trant had removed everything from the city except a battalion

of Militia and the two guns at the bridge. The sergeant in command of

these pieces (a certain José Correia Leal, whose name the Portuguese

have very properly preserved) adroitly wasted time by detaining the

French officer. He told him that he must wait till an answer came from

Trant, whose absence he kept concealed, and then, after some hours,

said that his commander had gone to visit a distant point of the river

defences, from which he would not be back till the next morning[180].

Meanwhile, if any attempt were made to attack the bridge, he had orders

to blow up several more arches, which were mined. Time drifted on, and

meanwhile Montbrun received at noon the news that Ney was forced to

give up Condeixa[181], i. e. that there was no more prospect of using

Coimbra as a crossing-point. Moreover his own retreat was in danger, if

an English detachment should march straight from Condeixa towards the

bridge, a distance of only eight miles. The French general was obliged

to abscond, and the only route open to him, since the _chaussée_ was

lost, was a rough path which, after coasting along the south bank of

the Mondego for some time, turns up into the valley of the Eça[182],

and so reaches Miranda de Corvo. After blowing up many of his wheeled

vehicles, Montbrun hastened to take this track, and escaped by it,

though he was discovered and pursued by some of Wellington’s cavalry

patrols, who pressed his rearguard and made many prisoners. But the

division of dragoons, with the infantry battalion attached, and the two

horse artillery batteries--their caissons had to be destroyed because

of the badness of the road--ultimately reached Miranda with no great

loss.

[180] For all this see Soriano da Luz, iii. pp. 360-1.

[181] According to Delagrave he got the news neither from Ney nor

from an aide-de-camp of his own whom he had left with the 6th

Corps to transmit information, but from an emissary of Masséna

named Girod, who thought of him when the proper authorities

failed to do so.

[182] Called the Deuça by Napier and other writers--an erroneous

contraction of Rio de Eça.

This was a truly important day, the most critical in the whole

campaign, since at its end Coimbra was safe, and the whole French army

had been turned on to the road towards Spain. Wellington was satisfied,

and had no reason to be otherwise. The accusation made against him by

many critics of over-caution, which is said to have prevented him from

destroying Loison’s and Montbrun’s detachments, seems unjustifiable.

The cardinal fact that he was not superior in numerical strength to

the army that he was pursuing is too often forgotten; indeed, the

French writers from Masséna down to to-day have nearly always credited

him with 50,000 or 60,000 men, whereas he had barely 45,000, of whom

only 32,000 were British, and the Portuguese were still in great part

untried troops; for though those of them who had passed the test of

battle (Pack’s and Power’s[183] brigades, the Caçadores in the Light

Division, and the artillery) had done admirably hitherto, there were

still four whole brigades which had never been in serious action

since they were reorganized in 1809[184]. Nothing was to be risked,

and partial attacks by unsupported vanguards were to be eschewed,

when (as Wellington remarked in his dispatch of March 14) ‘the whole

country affords advantageous positions to a retreating army, of which

the enemy has shown that he knows how to avail himself. They are

leaving the country, as they entered it, in one solid mass, covering

their rear on every march by one (or sometimes two) _corps d’armée_,

in the successive positions which the country affords, which _corps

d’armée_ are closely supported by the rest.’ A general action against

equal or superior numbers ranged on a strong hill-position was clearly

inadvisable, and the plan of manœuvring the enemy out of each line that

he took up by a short flanking movement was infinitely preferable.

Flanking movements take time, and unless the enemy is very slow or very

rash, have effective rather than brilliant results. But Wellington

never ‘played to the gallery’; he was no vendor of bulletins; he had

a small army which it was difficult to reinforce, and he could not

afford to waste his precious men in hazardous combats. It would have

been of little profit to him if he had destroyed a division or two of

the enemy, and had then arrived on the Spanish frontier with an army

diminished by 10,000 men. The enemy had unlimited supports behind him;

he had practically none. For when he had taken out his field army, and

had detached Beresford to Estremadura, there were no regular troops

left in Portugal save the newly formed 7th Division, which was coming

up from Lisbon to join the main body.

[183] Late Champlemond’s, heavily engaged against Reynier at

Bussaco.

[184] viz. Ashworth’s (late A. Campbell’s), Spry’s, Madden’s

(late Eben’s), and Harvey’s, of which the third had only one

regiment engaged at Bussaco, and the others had been on parts of

the line not attacked by the French.

[Illustration: CASAL NOVO]

That Wellington’s system was sound was sufficiently proved by an

incident of the next morning’s march, when the army suffered the only

check which it was destined to meet during the campaign, and lost more

men than on any other day of this eventful month. At early dawn on the

14th there was a dense fog; notwithstanding this, Sir William Erskine,

who was commanding the vanguard, composed of the Light Division,

Pack’s Portuguese, and Arentschildt’s cavalry brigade, thought fit to

march straight at the enemy, his orders of the preceding night being

to stick to Ney’s heels. The French rearguard, Marchand’s division,

was holding the village of Casal Novo[185], a strong post on a rising

ground, surrounded with stone walls and enclosures, while the rest of

the 6th and 8th Corps were defiling along the road to Chão de Lamas and

Miranda de Corvo. The Light Division, heading the advancing column, ran

into the pickets of the French, whereupon Erskine ordered out three

companies of the 52nd and sent them forward to clear the way. They were

soon heavily engaged, for Marchand was in force. When the fog lifted

daylight showed the five battalions of the Light Division clubbed on

the road, under the front of the enemy’s line of a battery and eleven

battalions, ranged on the height of Casal Novo. Pack’s Portuguese and

the 3rd Division were some distance off, coming along the defile which

leads from Condeixa. The Light Division had to extend and fight hard

in order to keep its ground, while the main body was coming up and

developing a flanking movement against the French. It lost heavily

of necessity, and was only released from a dangerous position by the

movement of Picton and the 3rd Division to the right, which forced the

French to abscond. Marchand’s division then fell back behind Mermet’s,

which was in position two miles to the rear, between the villages of

Casal de Azan and Villa Seca[186]. This second position was properly

turned, and carried without loss, if with some delay. Then the enemy

was discovered in the afternoon in a third and still more formidable

post, on the heights of Chão de Lamas. This was treated in the same

fashion, the Light Division and Pack’s Portuguese turning its left,

Picton its right, while the main body, coming up from the rear, halted

opposite its centre. Ney then gave up his position, and fell back six

miles down hill, towards Miranda de Corvo on the banks of the Eça

river, where the 8th Corps and Montbrun’s cavalry were waiting for him.

The pursuers, tired out by a running fight of twelve hours, during

which they had gained fourteen miles of ground, halted in front of

him. Their loss had been 11 officers and 119 men in the British, and

25 in the Portuguese ranks, a total of 155. More than half fell in the

mismanaged business of the early morning, in which the 43rd, 52nd,

and 95th lost 9 officers and over 80 men, in an utterly unnecessary

combat. This was the first of two exhibitions of wrongheadedness by

which the newly arrived general, William Erskine, lost Wellington’s

confidence. The second, on April 3rd, was (as we shall see) to be a

still more discreditable affair. The French loss at Casal Novo and in

the succeeding skirmishes of the day was apparently much smaller than

that of the British, though the official figure of 55 killed and

wounded seems very low[187]. On this morning the British, for the first

time during the retreat, began to take prisoners on a considerable

scale; there were more than 100 captured between Casal Novo and Miranda

de Corvo, partly skirmishers cut off during the long bickering in woods

and enclosures which filled the day, partly stragglers and marauders,

who were taken in the country-side while wandering away from their

colours.

[185] I walked round Casal Novo on September 28, 1910. It is

a very small place, under a low undulation of the high-lying

plateau which the road crosses.

[186] There is a good account of the combat of Casal Novo in

William Napier’s _History_, iii. 119-20, and a still more

striking one in his biography, pp. 55-7, containing some

distressing anecdotes. He was severely wounded, as was also his

brother George Napier of the 52nd, whose narrative is quite

as interesting as William’s. It is he who describes Erskine’s

reckless action best--informed by Colonel Ross that the French

were still in Casal Novo ‘he kept blustering and swearing it was

all nonsense--that the captains of the pickets knew nothing about

the matter, and that there was not a man in the village. Just as

he spoke the dense fog began to clear, and bang came a shot from

a twelve-pounder, which struck the head of our column and made a

lane through it, killing and wounding many. Then came a regular

cannonade, but the wise Sir William was sure it was but a single

gun and a picket supporting it, and desired Colonel Ross to send

my company against its flank,’ &c. Costello of the 95th has also

left a very good and lively narrative of the day’s work.

[187] The losses of the 14th (Casal Novo) and the 15th (Foz do

Arouce) have unfortunately got mixed in Martinien’s invaluable

casualty lists, most of them being credited to the 14th, with the

wrong heading ‘Condeixa’--which appears to mean Casal Novo. In

some regiments the dates and names have not got wrong, e. g. we

know that on the 14th the 27th regiment had 3 officers wounded,

and 3 more at Foz do Arouce on the following day. But e. g. in

the 39th Ligne Colonel Lamour is down as ‘blessé le 14 mars à

Condeixa,’ while he was certainly wounded at Foz do Arouce on the

15th, where he was also taken prisoner. The total of officers

recorded as hit in the 6th Corps on the 14th-15th is 22, of whom

10 were certainly casualties of the 14th. This must surely imply

more than 55 in all, killed and wounded. At the low rate of 10

men per officer it would give 100--at the normal rate of 20 per

officer it would be 200. But the last is probably too high. It

was on this day that Marbot had his famous encounter with a rifle

officer (_officier de chasseurs à pied_) and two hussars, of whom

(according to his narrative) he slew the first and wounded the

other two. It cannot be disputed that he had a fight, for he is

down as wounded in the official lists. But he certainly did not

kill a rifle officer. The only light division officer slain that

day was Lieutenant Gifford, who was killed by a ball in the head

at Casal Novo. It is also to be noted that there are no cavalry

casualties in the return of March 14, or indeed since Redinha.

Marbot’s supposed victims thus disappear!

On this evening Reynier and the 2nd Corps, so long divided from the

rest of the French army, joined the main column. From March 10th to

March 13th they had lain at Espinhal, resting after the difficult

passage of the mountains, and endeavouring, without much success, to

scrape together food to fill their depleted stores. Being closely

observed, though not attacked, by Nightingale’s brigade, they could not

scatter very far for marauding. But on the 14th Wellington, during the

Casal Novo fighting, threw out Cole’s 4th Division far to his right

to Penella, where it got into touch with Nightingale. Seeing that

there was now a serious force in front of Reynier, and that it might

thrust itself between him and the rest of the army, Masséna bade his

lieutenant break up without delay, and come in to Miranda de Corvo.

This was easily done by a ten-mile march in the afternoon, and the 2nd

Corps camped on the further side of the Eça river that night. Thus

the whole French army, save Conroux’s division, was concentrated, and

44,000 men under arms, dragging behind them a baggage-train that was

still considerable, and over 5,000 sick and wounded, were gathered in

the defile and the little plain north of it, with a most forbidding

mountain range in their front, and the pursuing columns of Wellington

in their rear.

The situation appeared so grave to Masséna that he resolved to lighten

his army so far as was possible, in order to allow it to march faster.

On this night there was a general destruction not only of all wheeled

vehicles, save a minimum of ammunition waggons, but of all the baggage

of the army, regimental as well as personal. Ney set the example by

burning his own carriages, and abandoning all that could not be carried

on pack mules[188]. The sick and wounded were transferred from waggons

on to beasts of burden--a change which caused the death or abandonment

of many hundreds of them during the next two days. A strict inspection

was made of all the surviving draught and pack animals, and when those

still in a fair state had been set aside for the carriage of the sick

and the ammunition, an order was issued that all the rest should be

put to death. To avoid the noise which would have been caused by

shooting them, the officer charged with this duty caused them all to be

hamstrung, a cruel device which was surely unnecessary, for they could

have been killed as easily as mutilated by the sword or knife. The

horrid sight of more than 500 live horses, mules, and asses sprawling

or hobbling in a bleeding mass, just outside the village of Miranda

de Corvo, was never forgotten by those who witnessed it[189] in the

pursuit of the following morning.

[188] For details see the diary of Ney’s aide-de-camp Sprünglin

(p. 470). It is astounding to find Masséna in his dispatch of

March 19 to Berthier stating that between Miranda de Corvo and

Foz do Arouce ‘nos équipages et nos malades ne cessaient pas de

filer, et rien absolument n’est resté en arrière.’

[189] ‘The most disgusting sight was the asses floundering in the

mud, some with throats half cut, the rest barbarously houghed.

What the object of this was I never could guess. The poor

brutes could have been of no use to us, for they could not have

travelled another league. Their meagre appearance, with backbones

and hips protruding through their skin, and their mangled limbs,

produced a feeling of disgust and commiseration.’ (Grattan, p.

58.)

‘It was pitiable to see the poor creatures in this state, yet

there was something ludicrous in the position which many had

taken when thus cruelly lamed. They were sitting in groups upon

their hinder ends, staring in each other’s faces, as if in deep

consultation on some important subject.’ (Donaldson of the 94th,

p. 106.)

The sacrifice of the baggage was the preliminary to a desperate and

fatiguing night march. The 2nd Corps started off first, then the 8th,

leaving the 6th as usual to bring up the rear. After firing Miranda de

Corvo, in order that the conflagration in the narrow street leading up

from the bridge might delay the advance of the Allies, Ney followed

the rest of the army at one in the morning. All marched slowly in the

dark for ten miles of an uphill road, and before noon reached the

long descent into the valley of the Ceira, at the village of Foz do

Arouce[190]. The 2nd and 8th Corps crossed the stream with much delay,

at a bridge which had been somewhat injured by the local Ordenança but

was still serviceable. They deployed on a range of commanding heights

on the further side, and encamped. Ney, always eager to carry on the

detaining process which he had hitherto practised with such skill, only

sent three of his six brigades across the river[191], though Masséna

had ordered him to pass, and to destroy the bridge. He remained with

the rest and Lamotte’s light cavalry, posted on two long hills with the

village of Foz between them, on the hither side of the water. Though he

had a good position, yet the defile to the rear was a dangerous thing

for such a large body of troops, since the Ceira was in flood, and

every man had to retire over the single damaged bridge. Moreover the

troops, tired by the night march, guarded themselves badly; in especial

the cavalry, which ought to have watched every road, with vedettes out

for many miles to the front, huddled together near the river for the

convenience of water and grazing: General Lamotte indeed crossed the

Ceira with great part of his men, and seems to have kept no look-out

whatever[192].

[190] Napier calls the village Foz de Aronce, and this spelling

of it (probably caused by an uncorrected printer’s error)

has been perpetuated by every English writer on the War. Yet

Wellington has it rightly spelt with the ‘u’ in his dispatch

(vii. p. 370) as ‘Foz de Arouce.’ Masséna, in his, calls it Foz

d’Arunce, which is incorrect. Delagrave, Fririon, and other

French narrators follow him, sometimes with the variants Aronce

or Arounce. There is no doubt that the name is spelt with a ‘u,’

and always has been, by the Portuguese.

[191] All Marchand’s division and a brigade of Mermet’s (25th

Léger and 27th Ligne) remained behind. Only Labassée’s brigade of

Mermet’s division crossed the water, with Loison’s division.

[192] I studied the ground at Foz do Arouce on September 28,

1910. The bridge is only four and a half yards broad, and 107

long. It was approached in 1811 by the road in a sharp turn,

which has now been straightened out, so was far more difficult

to cross than it is now. The gap between the hills in which the

village lies is about 200 yards broad. The heights on the French

left are much higher than those on their right.

Wellington’s pursuit this morning started very late. The burning of

the French baggage and of the town of Miranda had been noted in the

last hours of the night. But at dawn a heavy fog arose, and Wellington

refused to move his masses till it was certain that the French were not

still in position on the heights beyond the river with all their 44,000

men. For if Masséna were seeking a battle, as was quite possible, now

that he had concentrated all his three corps, it would be reckless

to attack him when every man of the allied army had to file over a

narrow bridge. It was not till reconnaissances had pushed across the

Eça, and had explored the burning town, and the ground beyond for some

miles, that orders were issued for the army to march on. Even then the

fog had not lifted, and the morning was some hours old before the 3rd

and Light Divisions were on their way. They followed the retreating

French up the long ascent, picking up many sick and stragglers, and

at about four o’clock in the afternoon came in sight of the enemy in

their new position behind the Ceira, with a formidable front extending

for several miles along the hills, and Ney’s rearguard visible on

the lower eminences on the hither side of the stream. Picton and

Erskine halted, thinking that it was too late in the afternoon to

undertake a serious attack, and that Wellington would wait, as usual,

for his supports to come up. They had directed their divisions to

encamp and thrown out their pickets, when the Commander-in-Chief rode

up, not long before dusk. Surveying the enemy, and seeing that few

battalions were under arms, and that Ney was evidently expecting no

fighting--his cavalry indeed had given him no proper warning of the

approach of the Allies--Wellington resolved to strike at once, though

his nearest reserve, the 6th Division, was still some way off. Picton

was told to attack the French left, the Light Division their right.

The first blow was very effective and partook of the nature of a

surprise, for the enemy was caught unprepared. Some companies of the

95th Rifles, penetrating down a hollow road, arrived almost unopposed

in the village of Foz, quite close to the bridge, while the rest of

the Light Division was holding Marchand’s troops engaged in a frontal

fight, and Picton was making good way against the brigade belonging

to Mermet, which formed the French left. The noise of close combat

breaking out almost in their rear, at a spot which seemed to indicate

that the bridge was in danger, and their retreat cut off, caused a

panic in the French right-centre, and the 39th regiment broke its

ranks and hurried towards the bridge, where it met and became jammed

against Lamotte’s cavalry, who were hastily returning to take up the

position from which they had unwisely retired an hour or two before.

Finding the passage impossible, the fugitives turned to a deep ford a

little down-stream and plunged into it, where many were drowned and the

regimental eagle was lost[193], while their colonel was taken prisoner.

Ney saved the situation, which had arisen through his own disobedience

to Masséna’s orders, by charging, with the third battalion of the 69th

regiment[194] the rifle companies which had got into Foz do Arouce

and were threatening the bridge. They were driven back on to their

support, the 52nd regiment, and the passage having been cleared by the

Marshal’s exertions, the troops to the left and right crossed it in

some disorder, and took refuge on the opposite bank. They were shelled

during their defile, not only by Ross’s and Bull’s horse artillery

batteries, but by some guns belonging to their own 8th Corps, which

in the deepening twilight failed to distinguish between pursuers and

pursued. By the time that night had fully set in, the French rearguard

was all over the river, and the bridge was blown up. If the attack had

been delivered an hour earlier, it is probable that Ney would have

suffered losses far greater than he actually endured--perhaps 250[195]

men killed, wounded, drowned, or taken--for the British divisions were

prevented by the failing light from acting as effectively as they

otherwise might against the masses hastily recrossing the bridge.

Wellington’s loss was trifling--4 officers and 67 men, nearly a third

of them in the rifle companies which had broken the French centre for

a moment, and had then been driven back by Ney. The small remainder

of the baggage of Marchand and Mermet was captured on this occasion,

including some biscuit, which proved most grateful to the Light

Division, as it had, like the rest of the British army, outmarched its

transport.

[193] It was found in the river at low water and sent to London.

The loss is mentioned in George Simmons’s diary under March 16.

Wellington sent it home in July. (_Dispatches_, viii. p. 78.)

[194] So both Masséna’s dispatch, and Fririon, who was present

with the brigade of which the 69th formed part. Marbot is wrong

in saying that it was the 27th. All the narratives on the French

side are very confused, and differ widely.

[195] Sprünglin says 400, Masséna, in his dispatch to Berthier,

under 200, Marbot 150, _Victoires et Conquêtes_ 400. Sprünglin,

as Ney’s aide-de-camp, had the best chance of knowing. But

Martinien’s lists, in which I can only find ten or twelve

casualties among officers, suggest a smaller total, roughly

perhaps 250.

It may not be out of place to note that the combat of Foz do Arouce

bore a singular resemblance to Craufurd’s combat on the Coa of July

24, 1810. In each case a rearguard was tempted to stay too long beyond

an unfordable river and a narrow bridge, by the defensible nature of

the position in which it found itself, and nearly suffered a complete

disaster. The only difference was that Ney had at least double as

strong a force as Craufurd, and had also a whole army in line beyond

the river to support him, while the British general had no reserves

near. In each case the endangered detachment got away by dint of hard

fighting, with appreciable but by no means crushing losses. It is

curious that the tables were exactly turned between pursuer and pursued

in these two fights--in 1810 it was Ney who by a sudden assault hustled

the Light Division over the Coa. In 1811 the Light Division was at the

head of the striking force which thrust Ney over the Ceira, If Craufurd

had been in command instead of the incapable Erskine, there can be

little doubt that the matter would have been pushed to a more decisive

conclusion, despite of the dusk.

[Illustration: FOZ D’AROUCE]