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BOHN’S ILLUSTRATED LIBRARY.
THE VICTORIES OF WELLINGTON.
[Illustration:
_Painted by A. Cooper, R.d._
_Engraved by Jno. H. Engleheart_
_Colonel Maxwell’s last charge at Afsye._]
THE
VICTORIES
OF
WELLINGTON
AND
THE BRITISH ARMIES
BY THE AUTHOR OF
“STORIES OF WATERLOO,” “THE BIVOUAC,” “THE LIFE
OF WELLINGTON,” ETC., ETC.
New Edition.
LONDON: GEORGE BELL & SONS, YORK STREET,
COVENT GARDEN.
1891.
LONDON:
PRINTED BY WILLIAM CLOWES AND SONS, LIMITED,
STAMFORD STREET AND CHARING CROSS.
CONTENTS.
Introduction--Seringapatam _Page_ 1
Assaye 20
Egyptian Expedition 29
Battle of Alexandria 38
Cape of Good Hope 47
Maida 55
Opening of Peninsular War--Battle of Rolica 64
Vimiero 73
Campaign of Sir John Moore 79
Connecting Chapter.--Memoir of the Guerillas 100
Operations from the Death of Sir John Moore to the Arrival of
Sir Arthur Wellesley 111
Passage of the Douro 120
Talavera 131
Operations subsequent to the Battle of Talavera 146
Battle of the Coa--Fall of Almeida 156
Busaco 163
Retreat to Torres Vedras 171
Retreat of Massena 178
Fall of Badajoz--Battle of Barosa 186
Battle of Fuentes D’Onoro 194
Brennier’s Escape 200
Battle of Albuera 208
Siege of Badajoz--Battle of El Bodon 218
Arroyo de Molinos, and Siege of Tarifa 228
Siege of Ciudad Rodrigo 236
Siege of Badajoz 248
Retreat of the French 261
Advance from the Agueda to the Battle of Salamanca 267
Battle of Salamanca 280
Salamanca 291
Capture of Madrid 301
Retreat from Burgos 309
Advance from the Douro to the Zadorra 322
Vitoria 330
Battles of the Pyrenees 340
Siege of San Sebastian 351
Passage of the Bidassao 362
Passage of the Adour 370
Battle of Orthez 380
Toulouse 390
Sortie of Bayonne 396
Napoleon’s Return--Battle of Quatre Bras 409
Movements of the 17th June 427
Battle of Waterloo 431
INDIAN CAMPAIGNS, 1838-1846:--
Preliminary Remarks 455
Affghans 461
Biluchis 467
Sikhs 472
APPENDIX, No. I.--Storming of San Sebastian 493
---- II.--Napoleon’s Adventures in his escape from Elba 503
---- III.--General Foy on the French, British, and
Spanish Armies 511
INDEX 525
LIST OF PLATES.
PAGE
Colonel Maxwell’s last Charge at Assaye.--_Frontispiece._
Portrait of General Baird 18
Portrait of Sir John Moore 98
Portrait of General Picton 258
Portrait of Lord Anglesea 437
THE
VICTORIES AND CONQUESTS
OF THE
BRITISH ARMY.
Introduction.--State of England, military and political.--India.--
Critical situation of British interests.--Marquis Wellesley
appointed to the Government.--His measures.--War declared.--
Tippoo attacks the army of Cannanore.--Seringapatam invested.--
Stormed by General Baird.--Death, character, and anecdotes of the
Sultaun of Mysore.--Military observations.--Acts of cruelty.--
Tippoo killed by an Irish soldier.
The history of military nations exhibits periods of disaster and
success, when good and evil fortune, as if ruled by a fatality,
prevail. With some, in every essay, conquest crowns their arms; while
the bravest efforts of others terminate invariably in defeat. Again,
the best measures fail to obtain success,--mischances follow thick
upon each other,--possessions are lost,--power declines,--and a
name, before which a world once trembled, becomes a by-word, and is
rarely used but to mark the mutability of national prosperity.
In looking back on past events, perhaps the gloomiest period of British
history will be found between the outbreak of the war of independence,
in 1775, and that of the French revolution at the close of the last
century. Conquest deserted those banners which for ages she had crowned
with victory,--the days of England’s glory seemed departed,--and her
military dispositions were rendered nugatory by a thousand accidental
occurrences, which no human prudence could foresee. Disciplined
valour was defeated by the raw levies of her own colonists, and her
continental influence was placed in abeyance for a time, by those
splendid victories achieved by the armies of the French Republic over
the best organized and best commanded troops in Europe.
Had the pride alone of Britain been lowered by the failure of her arms,
that circumstance would have been sufficiently humiliating; but far
more disastrous consequences resulted from these continued defeats. The
North American colonies were wrested from the parent country, never
to be recovered; and a retention of her Indian possessions became a
doubtful question. French influence, too successfully employed with
almost every European cabinet, had already reached the East; and the
native princes, ripe for revolt, were only awaiting a fitting moment
to throw off the mask, and, by an appeal to arms, free themselves from
the thrall of a power which in secret they both dreaded and detested.
This state of things was pregnant indeed with danger to Great Britain;
but bold and well-digested measures saved her in this her political
extremity; and when every thing was most heavily overcast, the first
promise of returning prosperity dawned, and a future tide of conquest
flowed from her earlier successes in the East.
In 1797, the Marquis of Wellesley was nominated to the Government of
India; and on his arriving at the Presidency, he found the British
interests environed by a thousand perils. Most of the native powers
were avowedly inimical, or secretly ill-disposed. It was known that
the Sultaun of Mysore was in active communication with the French
Directory; that he had tendered his alliance; that in return, he had
received an assurance of co-operation, and the assistance of European
officers to train his troops, accompanied by a liberal supply of
warlike stores. Tippoo Sultaun was also endeavouring to influence
Zemaun Schah to make a diversion on the northern frontier of the
English territory, pressing the Mahratta powers to join the league,
and make common cause against the British by a simultaneous revolt.
Scindia was notoriously devoted to the French--and of course the Court
of Deccan was unfriendly. The Rajah of Berar was more than suspected
of disaffection; and Holkar, if not a declared enemy, could not be
regarded as a friend.
In this ominous aspect of Eastern affairs, nothing could have
preserved India to Great Britain but prompt and daring measures--and
Lord Wellesley at once perceived that war was inevitable--while the
proclamation of the governor of the Isle of France, and the landing
on the coast of Malabar of officers and men for Tippoo’s service,
hurried the crisis. A premature declaration would, however, have been
impolitic. The British armies were not ready for the field,--their
_matériel_ was incomplete--their organization imperfect,--and, until
these deficiencies were remedied, Lord Wellesley determined to delay
the hour of hostile movements; and this, with admirable tact, he
managed to accomplish.
It was an object of paramount importance to interrupt the native
relations, if possible, and detach the Nizam from the Sultaun of
Mysore. The army of the former amounted to fourteen thousand men,
officered and disciplined by French mercenaries. The Marquis applied
himself to effect a new treaty, by which the force at Hyderabad should
be augmented, and the French officers dismissed from the service of
the prince. These objects were happily effected. A moveable column was
despatched from Fort William--reached Hyderabad by forced marches--
and, assisted by the Nizam’s cavalry, surrounded the infantry, arrested
the officers, and disarmed the sepoys. The Governor-General, finding
himself now in an attitude to commence hostilities, addressed a
remonstrance to Tippoo, which was unnoticed for some time. The advance
of the British army produced an unsatisfactory reply; and, on the 22nd
of February, war was formally declared.
The British force, with which this short and brilliant campaign was
opened and completed, consisted of the army of the Carnatic, under
General Harris, and that of Cannanore, commanded by Colonel Stuart.
Including the corps at Hyderabad, and the infantry of the Nizam, the
former amounted to thirty thousand men, to which a cavalry corps of six
thousand sabres was united. These were a contingent of the Nizam, and
commanded by an officer of his own--his son, Meer Allum. The Western,
or Cannanore corps, numbered about six thousand five hundred.
On the 5th of March, the army of the Carnatic crossed the frontier and
carried some hill forts with trifling opposition, while the corps
under Stuart marched direct on Seringapatam. Ascertaining that his
capital was threatened, Tippoo broke up from his cantonments, intending
to attack the army of the Carnatic; but suddenly changing his plans,
he hurried with the _élite_ of his infantry to meet the division from
Cannanore.
Never was the field taken with deadlier animosity to an enemy than that
with which Tippoo regarded his antagonists. Like Hannibal’s to Rome,
the hatred of the Sultaun to Britain was hereditary and implacable.
In the infancy of English glory, a foe like him was reckoned truly
formidable. His military talents were considerable; and, with excellent
judgment, and untrammelled by Eastern presumption, he saw the defects
of native discipline, and laboured to remove them. He had striven, and
with success, through the agency of Europeans, to introduce into his
camp the improved systems of modern warfare; and the army of the Mysore
had, within a few years, undergone a mighty change. Many confidential
communications that passed between the Sultaun and his chief officers,
found after the fall of the capital, prove with what assiduity he had
devoted his whole attention to the establishment of a force that, by
physical and numerical superiority, should crush a power he detested,
and overthrow England’s dominion in the East. Tippoo’s infantry were
tolerably drilled--his artillery were respectable--and though his
numerous horse were quite unequal to meet and repel the combined charge
of British cavalry, still, as irregulars, they were excellent; alike
dangerous to an enemy from their rapid movement, the audacity with
which their sudden assault was made, and the celerity, when repulsed,
with which their retreat was effected.
On the 5th, the Sultaun’s camp was indistinctly seen from the British
outposts. Four native battalions, commanded by Colonel Montressor, were
in advance at Seedaseer, and the remainder of the division cantoned
at a distance of from eight to twelve miles in the rear. The country
was difficult and wooded; and to troops who were acquainted with its
localities, extremely favourable for taking an enemy by surprise. From
the detached position of the different brigades, Tippoo could attack
them in detail, and press with an overwhelming force the leading
regiments under Montressor, and probably cut them off before they could
be supported from the rear. So favourable an opportunity was not to be
neglected--and the Sultaun made his dispositions to attack the British
division the next morning.
A deep jungle lay between him and his enemy--and at nine o’clock
he passed through the brushwood undiscovered, and threw himself
furiously on the front and flanks of Montressor’s brigade. Though
surprised, and assailed under very discouraging circumstances by a
force immensely superior in point of numbers, the sepoys behaved with
veteran steadiness, and fought most gallantly. Every effort made by
Tippoo to shake their formation failed. For five hours, these native
regiments sustained furious and repeated attacks unsupported; and not
until Stuart, after considerable opposition from the Sultaun’s troops,
who had gained the rear of Montressor, came up and relieved this
hard-pressed brigade, did the fiery Sultaun desist from the assault.
Unable longer to withstand the united force opposed to him, Tippoo
retired in disorder, leaving fifteen hundred of his best troops upon
the field, while the British loss scarcely amounted to one hundred and
fifty.
Completely repulsed by the division of Cannanore, the Sultaun did
not renew the attack, but moved again to Bangalore, and came up with
the army of the Carnatic. After a cavalry demonstration, which a few
cannon-shot checked, Tippoo fell back upon his capital--and General
Harris continued his march with all the despatch his defective means of
transport would permit.
The army of the Carnatic, taking the southern road to Seringapatam,
passed Karkunhully unopposed, crossed the Madoor, and on the 27th
reached Malavelly, where Tippoo was drawn up in order of battle.
Anxious to bring on an action, Colonel Wellesley, with the Nizam’s
troops, the 33rd European regiment, and Floyd’s cavalry, advanced
against the left, while General Harris attacked the right. For a time,
Tippoo, by a rocket discharge and brisk cannonade strove to arrest
these forward movements--but the British advanced steadily, and no
effort which the Sultaun could make would check them. A fine body of
the Sultaun’s best troops, amounting to two thousand, came boldly
forward and attacked the 33rd. Their reserved fire was received by
the British at some sixty yards, and answered by a bayonet rush. The
Sultaun’s infantry broke,--the British cavalry charged home,--no
quarter was given,--and an immense number of the bravest of the native
troops were bayoneted or cut down.
Following up his success, Harris crossed the Cauvery, Tippoo contenting
himself with making a close reconnaissance on the 2nd and 4th, as the
British defiled along the heights. On the 5th, the whole army took up
its ground in front of the city, and made preparations for immediately
commencing the siege.
Seringapatam stands on an island of bare and desolate appearance,
formed by the river Cauvery, which here divides itself into separate
streams--the waters creeping sluggishly along for nearly three miles,
when they again become united. This insulated surface is in no place
above a mile across--and on its upper extremity the city is built,
both channels of the river flowing immediately beneath its walls.[1]
The fortifications are in the Eastern style, the works irregular, and
the defences rather numerous than well-constructed. Several walls,
one within the other, connect bastions of different forms; some being
the ancient Hindu tower, while others are of regular proportions, and
formed after the designs of European engineers. The point of attack
chosen by the British commander was the north-west angle of the fort;
and on the arrival of the Bombay army, which joined on the evening of
the 14th, the siege was vigorously pressed.
The besiegers’ camp was judiciously selected, and distant from the west
face of the works about three thousand five hundred paces. The right
occupied a height, while the left was protected by the Cauvery and an
aqueduct. The rear also, was effectually secured by steep ravines,
and the watercourse that supplied the greater canal. There were
several topes[2] within the lines, thickly planted with cocoa-trees
and bamboos, thus affording ample means for constructing ladders and
fascines. The place was healthy, the water pure and abundant, and it
possessed all the security of an intrenched camp.
A part of the position however, in front of Tippoo’s advanced posts,
was within range of musketry and rockets, and it was necessary that
from these the enemy should be dislodged. A night attack, under the
command of Colonels Wellesley and Shaw, was unsuccessful, and attended
with considerable loss. On the following day the whole line was
stormed; the right and left flanks and centre being simultaneously
assaulted under a heavy cannonade. On every point the attacks
succeeded--and a line of posts was gained, reaching from Sultaunpet
to the Cauvery, and advanced within eighteen hundred yards of the
fortress. On the west front, the Bombay army were securely established
within a thousand paces of that angle of the fort; while a watercourse
was seized on the south, which allowed that face of the works to be
invested within less than nine hundred yards.
The siege was vigorously pressed--an intrenchment was stormed on
the evening of the 20th; and a parallel opened within seven hundred
and eighty paces of the works. On the 22nd the garrison made a grand
sortie, and fell in considerable force upon the Bengal army; but
their sustained efforts were repulsed, and they were driven into
the town with a loss of six hundred men. On the 26th, the enemy
having intrenched themselves behind a watercourse only three hundred
and eighty yards from the place, it was deemed advisable to obtain
its possession. It was accordingly assaulted in gallant style, and
carried, after an obstinate defence, that cost both the victors and the
vanquished a serious loss of life.
On the 30th a battery was unmasked, and commenced breaching the
bastion; on the 2nd of May, another was completed, and opened a heavy
fire on the curtain to the right--while several guns of large calibre
were gradually got to work. The old masonry, unable to support this
well-served and well-sustained cannonade, began to yield--masses
of the wall came down into the ditch--a breach in the fausse-braye
was reported practicable--and on the 3rd of May, the face of the
bastion was in such a state of ruin, that preparations were made for
an immediate assault. In a brief letter,[3] orders to that effect were
given next morning to Major-General Baird, who had volunteered to
command the storming party.
That the capture of Seringapatam should, to a certain extent, have been
achieved by the agency of Baird, appears a striking act of retributive
providence. He, who was to lead on that resistless soldiery, by whose
bayonets the life and throne of Tippoo should be extinguished, had
pined in hopeless captivity, the tenant of a dungeon, in that capital
which he was to enter in a few hours a conqueror. In the melancholy
slaughter of Colonel Bailey and his troops by Hyder Aly, on the
10th of September 1780,[4] Baird, then a captain, was desperately
wounded, made prisoner, hurried to Seringapatam, and there subjected
to treatment that, even at a period remote from the event, cannot be
heard without producing in the reader a thrill of horror and disgust.
Of the many who shared his captivity, few remained to narrate their
sufferings. Disease, starvation, poison, and the bowstring ended their
miserable lives: but a providential ordinance willed it that Baird
should survive--and, after disease failed to rob him of life, or
temptation[5] deprive him of his honour, he was destined to lead that
band to vengeance, by whom a tyrant was exterminated, and the power of
Mysore prostrated to the dust!
The arrangements for the assault were completed on the evening of
the 3rd--and two thousand five hundred Europeans, and one thousand
nine hundred native troops were selected to carry it into execution.
After sunset, ladders, fascines, &c. were conveyed into the trenches
unnoticed by the enemy; and before daybreak, the storming parties,
evading the observation of the garrison, marched quietly in, and lay
down until the order to assault was given.
One o’clock came--the city at that hour was perfectly quiet,--while
the trenches, to all appearance, contained nothing but their ordinary
guards. This tranquillity was suddenly interrupted. Baird appeared,
ordered the assault to be given--and that word, “Forward!” annihilated
an empire, and changed a dynasty over an immense territory, with a
population almost countless, an army of three hundred thousand men,
and a revenue of five millions sterling. The forlorn hope rushed
on, followed closely by the columns under Dunlop and Sherbroke--
both plunging into the river under a tremendous fire of rockets and
musketry. The ford across the Cauvery had been staked the preceding
night, to mark the passage the troops should take; but, in the hurry,
they swerved to the right, and getting into deeper water, the progress
of the column was retarded. Baird, observing the difficulty, rushed on
to the forlorn hope,--cheered the men forward,--and in six minutes
the British colours were flying above the breach!
Filing off right and left, the storming parties pressed on. The
north-west bastion was carried--all went prosperously--although the
discovery of an inner ditch, filled with water, was at first alarming.
But the scaffolding used by Tippoo’s workmen, and most fortunately left
there undisturbed, enabled the British to surmount every obstacle, and
enter the body of the place.
The right column halted on the east cavalier to give the men
breathing-time after violent exertion under a burning sun. They awaited
there a reinforcement of fresh troops to proceed and assail the palace,
where it was believed Tippoo had retired. The report was untrue,--that
palace he was fated never to revisit,--for the tyrant of Mysore was
then gone to his account!
The left column, in the mean time, had overcome every opposition, and
continued their course along the ramparts, as directed in the general
order for the assault. Part of the 12th regiment, however, either
mistaking or disobeying orders, rushed into the body of the town, and
finding the sally-port crowded with the Sultaun’s troops, commenced
firing from the inside on the archway, while the remainder of their own
column were keeping up a sharp fusilade upon it from the other side. No
wonder, thus enfiladed, that the passage was choked with dead; and it
was afterwards ascertained, on the removal of the bodies, that above
three hundred of the soldiers of Mysore had fallen in this narrow space.
It is said, that to the moment of the assault, Tippoo never supposed
that an attempt would be made to storm the fortress; and when the
marching of the columns to the breach was reported, he received the
intelligence with incredulity. The increasing uproar undeceived him,
and rising from table, where dinner had been laid under a thatched shed
on the northern face of the works, he performed his ablutions coolly,
and called for his horse and arms.[6] At that moment the death of his
best officer was announced. The Sultaun paid a tribute to the bravery
of his favourite, named his successor, and rode forth never to return.
On the left, Tippoo commanded in person; and here, the traverses,
erected to protect the breach, were so furiously defended, that the
assailants were completely checked. The Sultaun fought among his
meanest soldiers--and, if his attendants can be trusted, several of
the most daring of the assailants were shot by the prince himself.
Fortunately for the British, by some unaccountable neglect, a passage
from the ditch to the rampart, by which the Sultaun’s working parties
passed from one place to the other, had been forgotten. By this way,
the 12th regiment reached the rampart, and pressing quickly forward,
turned the traverses, and poured in a flanking fire that rendered them
untenable. The troops that had held them hitherto were now obliged to
retire--the posts were abandoned--and the Sultaun joined reluctantly
his retreating soldiery.[7]
Fatigued, suffering from the intense heat, and pained by an old wound,
Tippoo mounted his horse, and retired slowly along the northern
rampart. The British were momentarily gaining ground--the garrison in
every direction flying--while a spattering fusilade, and occasionally
a wild huzza, told that the victors were everywhere advancing. Instead
of quitting the city, as he might have done, the Sultaun crossed the
bridge over the inner ditch and entered the town. The covered gateway
was now crowded with fugitives vainly endeavouring to escape from the
bayonets of their conquerors, who were heard approaching at either
side. A random shot struck the Sultaun: he pressed his horse forward,
but his passage was impeded by a mob of runaways, who literally choked
the gloomy arch. Presently a cross fire opened, and filled the passage
with the dead and wounded. Tippoo’s horse was killed, but his followers
managed to disengage him, dragged him exhausted from beneath the fallen
steed, and placed him in his palanquin. But escape was impossible; the
British were already in the gateway,--the bayonet was unsparingly
at work--for quarter at this moment was neither given nor expected.
Dazzled by the glittering of his jewelled turban, a soldier dashed
forward and caught the Sultaun’s sword-belt. With failing strength,
Tippoo cut boldly at his assailant and inflicted a trifling wound. The
soldier, irritated by pain, drew back, laid his musket to his shoulder,
and shot the Sultaun dead. His companions, perceiving the struggle,
rushed up; the palanquin was overturned, the bearers cut down, the body
of the departed tyrant thrown upon a heap of the dead and dying, and
the corpse--despoiled of every thing valuable--left among the fallen
Mussulmans--naked, unknown, and unregarded.
The capital of Mysore was now at the mercy of the conquerors--and
the general’s first care was to seek out the dishonoured body of
its once haughty master. As it was suspected that Tippoo had fallen
in the northern gateway, the bodies that lay heaped within it were
hastily removed. For a time the search was unsuccessful, and torches
were obtained, as the archway was low and gloomy. At last, beneath a
heap of slain Mussulmans, their ruler’s body was discovered. The heat
had not yet left the corpse; and though despoiled of sword and belt,
sash and turban,[8] the well-known talisman that encircled his right
arm was soon recognised by the conquerors. The amulet, formed of some
metallic substance of silvery hue, was surrounded by magic scrolls in
Arabic and Persian characters, and sewed carefully in several pieces
of richly-flowered silk. The eyes were unclosed; the countenance wore
that appearance of stern composure, which induced the lookers-on for a
time to fancy that the proud spirit of the haughty Sultaun was still
lingering in its tenement of clay.[9] The pulse was examined--its
throbs were ended--and life was totally extinct.
The body was directly removed to the palace, and there respectfully
deposited until the necessary preparations for an honourable interment
were completed--the funeral being conducted with all the ceremonies
which Eastern forms require. As the procession moved slowly through
the city, a “keeraut” of five thousand rupees was distributed to the
fakirs--and verses from the Koran were repeated by the chief of the
priests, and responded by the assistants. Minute-guns were fired from
the batteries; and a guard of honour, composed of European flank
companies, followed the remains of the late ruler of Mysore to the
sepulchre of his once haughty father.
Tippoo, notwithstanding his cruelty and despotism, was highly regarded
by his Mussulman subjects. His was no common character,--brave,
munificent, and a bigot to his faith, he was just the sovereign
to excite Eastern admiration. A rigid observer of the Prophet’s
ordinances, he attended strictly to the formulae of his religion--
wine was strictly inhibited--and every unbeliever, not excepting
his favourite _employées_, were treated with scorn and distrust. His
establishment and household were formed on a scale of regal splendour;
and when, by accident or age, their services were no longer efficient,
Tippoo never permitted a servant to be discharged, although their
numbers became incredible.
With all the sternness of character and high-souled energy for which
the departed Sultaun was remarkable, it would appear that he was
prone to superstition, and not endued with that blind reliance upon
Providence which, among Mussulmans, distinguishes the true believer.
It is said, that the day doomed to be fatal to his empire and himself
had been announced; and that, forewarned of impending calamity, he
had vainly endeavoured to avert misfortune by resorting to magic
ceremonies, and obtaining the interference of the Brahmins with their
gods. Though a devoted follower of Mahomet, he offered these priests an
oblation of money, buffaloes, an elephant, black she-goat, and dresses
of cloth-beseeching them to use their influence with Heaven for his
prosperity. A presentiment of coming danger had evidently cast its
shadows before, and those immediately around the Sultaun’s person[10]
remarked that he was heavily depressed. Yet his confidence in the
strength of the city and the _matériel_ of its garrison was unbounded.
He believed that Seringapatam was impregnable, and laughed to scorn the
idea that the British would ever dream of carrying it by assault.
His funeral was marked by natural occurrences, that seemed in happy
keeping with the obsequies of him who had left an empire for a tomb.
On the evening when Tippoo was committed to his kindred dust, the sky
became overcast, and a storm broke suddenly in a torrent of rain, while
heaven seemed in a blaze,[11] and peal after peal of thunder appeared
to shake the city to its very foundations, and added to the fearful
uproar. A tempest of more violence was hardly recollected; and it
seemed as if an elemental convulsion had been decreed, to announce that
the once haughty tyrant of Mysore was nothing now but dust and ashes.
The storming of Seringapatam was certainly a bold and hazardous
attempt--it was nobly executed, and deserved the success it gained.
The moment for action was happily selected. An Indian sun, when in
meridian power, obliges man to avoid its exhausting influence, and
hence, that period of the day is habitually made in Hindoostan an hour
of repose and sleep. Never supposing that at this season of relaxation
any attempt upon the fortress would be made, with the exception of the
guards alone, the Sultaun’s troops were sleeping in their respective
barracks. When the alarm was given, a panic spread; and profiting by
the confusion, the assailants increased it, and prevented any attempt
being made for an efficient rally and defence.
To other circumstances, however, the fortunate result of the attack
may in a great measure be attributed. By an unpardonable oversight the
breach was unprovided with a retrenchment, and the workmen’s passage,
between the ditch and rampart, left undefended. Had the breach been
properly retrenched, it could not have been surmounted in the face of
such a garrison; and traverses, that could have been, and were, most
obstinately defended, were lost to the besieged by their stupid neglect
in having left a means of escalade from the ditch, which the labour of
a dozen men would have rendered impracticable. How frequently in war do
great results arise from trifling causes.
Every care was taken to prevent plunder and violence in the night. The
inhabitants were assured of protection; and the Sultaun’s children
kindly received by General Baird, and for better security sent from the
fortress to the camp. Even before Tippoo’s death was ascertained, great
delicacy was observed in searching the palace, where it was supposed
he had concealed himself. The zenana, which contained his women, was
scrupulously respected--and a guard was merely drawn around it to
prevent the Sultaun’s escape, in the event of his having made that his
place of refuge.
Though eight thousand of Tippoo’s garrison fell in the assault, very
few of the inhabitants suffered. The British loss during the siege
and storm was, of course, severe; twenty-five officers were killed or
wounded in the assault; and the total casualties were, of Europeans,
twenty-two officers killed, forty-five wounded, eighty-one rank and
file killed, six hundred and twenty-two wounded, and twenty-two
missing; of the native army, one hundred and nineteen were killed, four
hundred and twenty wounded, and one hundred missing, making a general
total of one thousand five hundred and thirty-one _hors de combat_.
Having made necessary arrangements for the protection of the town,
Baird marched the 33rd and 74th regiments to the palace, and in one of
its magnificent courts the soldiers piled arms, and established their
bivouac.[12] Sentries were placed around the zenana for its security;
and the general slept on a carpet spread for his accommodation under
the verandah. There lay the conqueror of Seringapatam, surrounded by
his victorious soldiers, and dispensing protection to the helpless
family of the fallen Sultaun. There he lay, on whose breath hung life
and death--yet but a few years back, and within three hundred yards
of the spot he rested on, that man had occupied a dungeon, dragging on
a cheerless captivity, and waiting until the poisoned cup should be
presented by “the bondsman of a slave,” or the order delivered for his
midnight murder.
Is not the romance of real life oftentimes wilder far than any creation
of the imagination?
[Illustration:
_Sir H. Raeburn._
_H. Cook._
D. Baird]
The tyrant of Mysore was gone to his account, and “how his audit stood
none knew save Heaven;” but assuredly a more tiger-hearted monster
never disgraced the musnud. His conduct to the European prisoners after
Hyder’s death was atrocious. Of those taken with Bailey, the greater
proportion perished from starvation and disease; while Matthews and
his officers, who had surrendered under the usual conditions granted
in honourable warfare, and guaranteed by Tippoo himself, were savagely
murdered. Some of them were led out at night, taken to a retired spot,
and hewn in pieces--while seventeen were poisoned with the milk of
the cocoa-nut tree. The death of the unhappy general was probably the
most horrible of all. Apprised by some means of the fate that was
impending, he refused the food sent by the keeladar, and obtained, from
the compassion of the guard and servants, as much of theirs as merely
sustained existence--the havildar who had him in charge humanely
conniving at the proceeding. But when Tippoo learned that his victim
still lived, the havildar was sent for, and it was intimated that if
his prisoner existed beyond a certain time, his own life should
pay the penalty of his humanity. The wretched instrument of tyranny
communicated what had passed to the devoted general, and gave him
the alternative of death from poison or starvation. “For a few days
the love of life maintained a struggle with the importunate calls of
hunger. These, however, prevailed in the issue of the contest--he
ate of the poisoned food, and drank too--whether to quench the rage
of inflamed thirst, or to drown the torments of his soul in utter
insensibility--of the poisoned cup; and in six hours after the fatal
repast he was found dead.”[13]
The last acts of Tippoo’s life were in fit keeping with a career
marked throughout by perfidy and bloodshed. In the confusion of the
night of the 5th, when Colonel Wellesley’s attack on Sultaunpet failed
from darkness and the intricacy of the betel tope, twelve grenadiers
of the 33rd were made prisoners, and brought into Seringapatam. At
midnight they were murdered by threes--“the mode of killing them was
by twisting their heads, while their bodies were held fast, and thus
breaking their necks.”[14] The fact was ascertained beyond doubt,
for a peon pointed out the place where these ill-fated soldiers were
interred, and they were examined and identified by their own officers.
Other English soldiers who had been taken in assaulting outposts during
the siege, had also been put to death, “having nails driven through
their skulls.”[15]
In alluding to the Sultaun’s death, the regretted biographer of Sir
David Baird says, “One cannot but regret, for the honour of human
nature, and even for the sake of England, the end of such a man as
Tippoo, shot in cold blood by a man endeavouring to rob him. Let us
hope the man was a sepoy.” The man was an Irish soldier, who many
years afterwards stated the fact in confession, and when _in articulo
mortis_. “Cold blood!” Could blood be cold during the storm of a
defended city, and under an Indian sun almost at noon?
The tyrant only met the doom he merited. For his talents we give him
credit--his courage obtains our admiration--his munificence we
admit--but for the murderer of the brave we feel neither sympathy nor
regret.
ASSAYE.
Effect of Tippoo’s death upon the Native Princes.--Dhoondia’s rise
and fall.--War between Scindia and Holkar.--Their differences
accommodated.--Hostilities commence again.--Operations.--Camp
at Assaye.--Battle.--Death of Colonel Maxwell.--Results of the
Victory at Assaye.--Honours conferred on General Wellesley.--He
returns to England.
The death of Tippoo Saib, and the fall of Seringapatam, were astounding
tidings for the native chiefs. Their delusory notions regarding their
individual importance were ended--and a striking proof had been
given of what little reliance could be placed on Indian mercenaries
and places of strength, when England went forth in wrath and sent her
armies to the field.
As the fear of Britain became confirmed, so did the hatred of the
native princes to every thing connected with her name. A power that had
proved herself so formidable was to be dreaded, fixed as she was in
the very heart of India: and, as the difficulty increased, so did the
desire of freeing themselves from that thrall, which daily appeared to
press upon them more heavily.
With political history we have no business, farther than regards the
military operations we detail; but, as warfare originates in state
policy, the elucidation of the one will occasionally require that brief
allusions should be made to the other.
Among the prisoners delivered by the British from their dungeons after
the reduction of the capital of Mysore, was a Mahratta trooper, who
had commenced his predatory career in the cavalry of Hyder Aly, and,
after his death, continued in the service of his son. For some cause he
deserted, headed a band of marauders, was enticed back by the false
promises of Tippoo, flung into a dungeon, and there made a Mussulman,
greatly against his own will, and much to the glory of the Prophet. “No
sooner were his fetters off, than his feet were again in the stirrup;
and many of Tippoo’s horsemen, men of desperate fortunes, without a
country, a service, or a master, became his willing followers.” His
predatory band became so numerous that he overran the district of
Biddenore--and at last he became so formidable, that a strong British
force was sent to crush him and his robber horde. It was effected--
six hundred and fifty of his followers were cut to pieces, and himself
driven across the Toombudra into the country of the Peishwah. But
here he was not permitted to rest. Ghokla surprised him, and routed
him totally, taking his cannon, elephants, tents, and baggage. With
difficulty the freebooter escaped, fled none knew where, and in a short
time, Dhoondia was almost forgotten.
Suddenly, however, the daring freebooter appeared again; and moving
south at the head of five thousand horse, threatened the frontier of
the Mysore, and naturally occasioned immense alarm over a country
so open to his predatory visits. No time was lost in despatching a
sufficient force to crush him altogether, or compel him to retire,
and Colonel Wellesley was intrusted with the command. Another force
was directed to co-operate with that of the colonel; but fearing the
marauder would escape unless promptly encountered, Wellesley pushed on
alone, and by forced marches succeeded in coming up with him, while
Dhoondia was encamped, as he imagined, in perfect security. The fellow,
naturally daring, took up a strong position, and boldly waited for the
British assault. Colonel Wellesley led the charge--it was admirably
made, and the marauder’s fate was decided. His cavalry were cut to
pieces or dispersed, Dhoondia himself sabred, and his body, secured
upon a gun, was brought in triumph to the camp. Thus perished the king
of “the two worlds,”--for such was the unassuming title by which the
freebooter was pleased to have himself designated by his banditti.
An intended expedition against Batavia, in which Colonel Wellesley
was promised a command, was for some reasons abandoned. Baird, with a
division, was despatched to Egypt by the Desert rout; and Wellesley
reappointed to the government of the Mysore.
Affairs again began to assume a threatening look. The Mahratta chiefs
exhibited an unfriendly attitude; and to cement an alliance with the
Peishwah, and thus tranquillize the country, a portion of Tippoo’s
territory was offered and rejected. Scindia, with his army, was at
Poona--and his influence directed every act of that dependent court.
A misunderstanding between Scindia and Holkar brought on a war between
those chiefs. Holkar advanced on Poona, compelling Scindia to accept
battle, in which he was defeated--the Peishwah deserting his ally
in the hour of need, and concluding a treaty with the British. To
effectuate this, Wellesley, now a major-general, took the field,
with orders to drive Holkar from Poona, and secure the Peishwah’s
return to his capital--and learning that the Mahrattas intended to
plunder Poona, the general saved it by an extraordinary forced march,
accomplishing sixty miles in thirty hours--a marvellous exertion
indeed to be made under an Indian sun.
All for a short time was quiet; but those restless chiefs again assumed
a hostile position. Scindia and the Rajah of Berar moved towards the
Nizam’s frontier; while the former was negotiating with Holkar, his
late enemy, to arrange their differences, and make common cause against
the English.
To prepare for the threatened attack, the Marquis Wellesley invested
the officers commanding the armies of Hindoostan and the Deccan
with full powers; and to General Wellesley a special authority was
given to make peace, or commence hostilities, as his own judgment
should determine. In accordance with this power, a demand was made on
Scindia that he should separate from the Rajah of Berar, and re-cross
the Nerbuddah. To this demand an evasive reply was returned--and
Eastern cunning was employed to obtain such delay as should permit the
chieftains’ plans to be matured, and enable them to take the field in
force. This shuffling policy was, however, quite apparent; and on the
first information that his political agent had quitted Scindia’s camp,
Wellesley suddenly broke up his cantonments, and marched directly on
Ahmednuggur.
This ancient town was defended in the Eastern fashion with a high
wall, flanked at its bends and angles by a tower, and garrisoned by
some of Scindia’s infantry and an auxiliary force of Arabs, while a
body of the chieftain’s cavalry occupied the space between the pettah
and the fort. Wellesley, without delay, assaulted the town, and
carried it by escalade. On the 10th, the British cannon opened on the
fort--the keeladar in command proposed terms, and the English general
expressed a readiness to listen to his propositions, but the guns
continued working. Indian diplomacy has no chance when batteries are
open; and, on the 12th, a garrison of fourteen hundred marched out,
and the place was delivered up. This fortress, from its locality, was
valuable; it secured the communications with Poona, made a safe depôt
for military stores, and was centrically placed in a district whose
revenue was above 600,000 rupees.
With a short delay, Wellesley moved on Aurungabad, and entered that
splendid city on the 29th. The enemy moved in a south-easterly
direction, threatening Hyderabad--while the British, marching by the
left bank of the Godaverey, secured their convoys from Moodgul, and
obliged Scindia to retire northwards. As yet the Mahratta chiefs were
moving a cavalry force north, with but a few matchlock-men; but they
were joined now by their whole artillery and sixteen battalions of
infantry, officered chiefly by Frenchmen.
On the 21st, at a conference at Budnapoor, General Wellesley and
Colonel Stevenson arranged a combined attack for the 24th. They were
to move east and west, pass the defiles on the same day, and thus
prevent any movement of the enemy southward. A mistake, in distance,
brought General Wellesley much sooner to his halting-place than had
been calculated; and learning that the Mahratta army were already
breaking up to retire, he sent orders to Colonel Stevenson to advance;
and announcing his immediate march on Scindia, begged his colleague to
hurry forward to his assistance.
The cavalry consisted of the 19th Light Dragoons, and three native
regiments, under the command of Colonel Maxwell, a bold and skilful
officer. General Wellesley accompanied the horse--the infantry
following in light marching order. After passing a league and half
of ground, the advance reached an eminence; and on the right, and
covering an immense extent of country, the Mahratta army appeared.
In brilliant sunshine, nothing could be more picturesque than
Scindia’s encampment. The varied colours of the tents, each disposed
around its own chieftain’s banner without order or regularity, with
“streets crossing and winding in every direction, displayed a variety
of merchandise, as in a great fair. Jewellers, smiths, and mechanics
were all attending as minutely to their occupations, and all as busily
employed, as if they were at Poona, and in peace.”[16]
In this enormous camp, fifty thousand men were collected--the river
Kaitna running in their front--the Suah in their rear. These rivers
united their waters at some distance beyond the left of the camp,
forming a flat peninsula of considerable extent. The native infantry
and all the guns were in position on the left, retired upon the Suah,
and appuied on the village of Assaye--the cavalry were entirely on the
right. The position was naturally strong; for the banks of the Kaitna
are steep and broken, and the front very difficult to attack.
As the British cavalry formed line on the heights, it presented a
strange but glorious contrast to the countless multitude of Mahratta
horsemen, who were seen in endless array below. The English brigade,
scarcely numbering three thousand sabres, took its position with
all the boldness of a body having an equal force opposed. In number
Scindia’s cavalry were fully ten to one; as it was ascertained that,
with his allies, the horsemen actually on the field exceeded thirty
thousand. Having made a careful reconnaissance, General Wellesley
determined to attack--and, when the infantry came up, it was instantly
executed.
While examining the position, immense masses of Scindia’s cavalry moved
forward, and threw out skirmishers, which were directly driven in.
Wellesley having discovered a neglected ford, decided on crossing over,
and, by attacking the infantry and guns, embarrass the immense cavalry
force of Scindia, and oblige it to manœuvre to disadvantage, and act on
the confined space the ill-selected ground afforded.
The infantry had now come up, and, in column, they were directed on
the river. A fire from the Mahratta guns immediately opened, but the
range was far too distant to permit the cannonade to be effective, or
check the forward movement of the columns. The whole were now across
the river; the infantry formed into two brigades, and the cavalry in
reserve behind them, ready to rush on any part of the battle-ground
where advantage could be gained, or support should be required. The
Mysore horse and the contingent of the Peishwah were merely left in
observation of the enemy’s right.
This flank attack obliged Scindia to change his front. He did so with
less confusion than was expected; and by his new disposition rested his
right upon the Kaitna, and his left upon the Suah and Assaye. His whole
front bristled with cannon--and the ground immediately around the
village seemed, from the number of guns, like one great battery.
The fire from this powerful artillery was of course destructive; and
the British guns were completely overpowered, and in a very few minutes
silenced entirely. This was the crisis; and on the determination of
a moment hung the fortune of a very doubtful day. Without hesitation
Wellesley abandoned his guns, and advanced with the bayonet. The
charge was gallantly made, the enemy’s right forced back, and his guns
captured.
While this movement was being executed, the 74th and light infantry
pickets in front of Assaye, were severely cut up by the fire from
that place. Perceiving the murderous effect of the fusilade, a strong
body of the Mahratta horse moved swiftly round the village, and made
a furious onset on the 74th. Maxwell had watched the progress of the
battle, and now was his moment of action. The word was given,--the
British cavalry charged home--down went the Mahrattas in hundreds
beneath the fiery assault of the brave 19th, and their gallant
supporters the sepoys; while, unchecked by a tremendous storm of grape
and musketry, Maxwell pressed his advantage, and cut through Scindia’s
left. The 74th and the light infantry reformed, and, pushing boldly on,
completed the disorder of the enemy, preventing any effective attempt
to renew a battle, the doubtful result of which was thus in a few
minutes decided by the promptitude of the general.
Some of Scindia’s troops fought bravely--and the desperate obstinacy
with which his gunners stood to the cannon, was almost incredible. They
remained to the last--and were bayoneted around the guns, which they
refused, even in certain defeat, to abandon.
The British charge was, indeed, resistless; but in the enthusiasm of
success, at times there is a lack of prudence. The sepoys rushed wildly
on--their elated ardour was uncontrollable--while a mass of the
Mahratta horse arrayed upon the hill, were ready to rush upon ranks
disordered by their own success.
But Wellesley foresaw, and guarded against the evil consequences that
a too excited courage might produce. The 78th were kept in hand; and
cool, steady, and with a perfect formation, they offered an imposing
front, that the Mahratta cavalry perceived was unassailable.
A strong column of the enemy, however, that had been only partially
engaged, now rallied and renewed the battle, joined by a number of
Scindia’s gunners and infantry, who had flung themselves as dead
upon the ground, and thus escaped the sabres of the British cavalry.
Maxwell’s brigade, who had re-formed their ranks and breathed their
horses, dashed into the still disordered ranks of these half-rallied
troops--a desperate slaughter ensued, and the Mahrattas were totally
routed; but the British lost their chivalrous leader--and in the
moment of victory, Maxwell died in front of the battle, “and, fighting
foremost, fell.”
The last effort of the day was made by a part of the artillery who
were in position near the village of Assaye--and in person Wellesley
led on the 78th Highlanders and the 7th native cavalry. In the attack
the general’s horse was killed under him; but the enemy declined the
charge, broke, fled, and left a field cumbered with their dead, and
crowded with cannon, bullocks, caissons, and all the _matériel_ of an
Eastern army, to the conquerors.
The evening had fallen before the last struggle at Assaye was over--
but the British victory was complete. Twelve hundred of Scindia’s dead
were found upon the field; while, of his wounded, scarcely an estimate
could be hazarded, for all the villages and adjacent country were
crowded with his disabled soldiery. The British loss was of necessity
severe, and it might be estimated that one-third of the entire army was
rendered _hors de combat_.
To call Assaye a brilliant victory, is only using a term simply
descriptive of what it was. It was a magnificent display of skill,
moral courage, and perfect discipline, against native bravery and an
immense numerical superiority. But it was not a mass of men, rudely
collected, ignorant of military tactics, and unused to combinations,
that Wellesley overthrew. Scindia’s army was respectable in every arm,
his cavalry excellent of their kind, and his artillery well served. His
infantry were for a long time under the training of French officers;
and the ease and precision with which he changed his front when the
British crossed the Kaitna to assail his flank, shewed that the lessons
of the French disciplinarians had not been given in vain.
The total _déroute_ of Assaye was followed by a tide of conquest.
Fortress after fortress was reduced, and Scindia sought and obtained a
truce. The British arms were next turned against the Rajah of Berar--
General Wellesley marched against him--for the truce was ended
suddenly, and Scindia joined his colleague with all his disposable
force.
On the plains of Argaum Wellesley found the confederated chiefs drawn
up in order of battle. Scindia’s immense cavalry formed the right--
on the left were the Berar infantry and guns, flanked by the Rajah’s
cavalry--while a cloud of Pindaries were observed on the extreme right
of the whole array.
The British moved down and formed line, the infantry in front, and
the cavalry in reserve. The battle was short and decisive. The
Berar’s Persian infantry attacked the 74th and 78th regiments, and
were literally annihilated; while Scindia’s cavalry charge failed
totally, the 26th native regiment repulsing it most gloriously. The
British now rushed forward--and the Mahrattas broke and fled in every
direction, abandoning their entire park;[17] while the cavalry pursued
by moonlight the scattered host, and captured an immense number of
elephants and beasts of burden, the entire baggage, and stores and arms
of every description.
The fall of some places of strength, and the total defeat of their
armies in the field, humbled Scindia and his ally, the Rajah, and
obliged them to sue and obtain a peace. The brilliant career of General
Wellesley had gained him a name in arms, which future victories were
to immortalize. To commemorate the battle of Assaye, a monument was
erected in Calcutta, a sword presented to the victor by the citizens,
and a gold vase by the officers he commanded. He was also made a Knight
Companion of the Bath, and honoured by the thanks of Parliament.
Even from the inhabitants of Seringapatam he received an address,
remarkable for its simplicity and affection, committing him to the care
of “the God of all castes,” and invoking for him “health, glory, and
happiness.” In 1805 he returned to his native land, “with war’s red
honours on his crest,” bearing with him from the scene of his glory the
high estimation and affectionate wishes of every caste and colour.
EGYPTIAN EXPEDITION.
British army employed in useless expeditions.--Finally ordered
to Egypt.--Voyage thither.--Arrival in the Bay of Aboukir.--
Preparations for disembarkation.--Landing.--Attack and repulse
of the French.--Sir Ralph Abercrombie advances--forces the
French position--attempts the lines in front of Alexandria by
a _coup-de-main_, and is repulsed.--Falls back, and takes up a
position.
Whether the employment of a British force in Egypt, under the
circumstances Europe then presented, was a judicious disposal of it,
is a question that would involve too large a political inquiry; “but
certain it is that any positive object would have been preferable to
the indeterminate counsels and feebly executed plans which wasted the
soldiers’ health and spirits, compromised the honour of the army, and
so materially prejudiced the interests of a country.”[18]
In 1800, an attempt on Cadiz was planned and abandoned; and an army,
the _corps élite_ of Britain, was kept idly afloat in transports at an
enormous expense, suffering from tempestuous weather, and losing their
energies and discipline, while one scheme was proposed after another,
only to be considered and rejected. By turns Italy and South America
were named as countries where they might be successfully employed--but
to both designs, on mature deliberation, strong objections were found;
and on the 25th of October final orders were received from England,
directing the fleet and army forthwith to rendezvous at Malta, and
thence proceed to Egypt.
The troops on reaching the island were partially disembarked while the
ships were refitting; and the fresh provisions and salubrious air of
Valetta soon restored many who had suffered from long confinement and
salt rations. Five hundred Maltese were enlisted to serve as pioneers.
Water-casks were replenished, stores laid in, the troops re-embarked;
and on the 20th of December, the first division got under weigh,
followed by the second on the succeeding day.
Instead of sailing direct for their destination, the fleet proceeded
to the Bay of Macri. Finding that roadstead too open, the admiral
shaped his course for the coast of Caramania. There he was overtaken
by a gale of wind,--and though close to the magnificent harbour of
Marmorrice, its existence appears to have been known, out of a fleet
of two hundred vessels, only to the captain of a brig of war. As the
fleet were caught in a heavy gale on a lee shore, the result might have
been most disastrous to the transports, who could not carry sufficient
canvas to work off the land. Fortunately, Marmorrice proved a haven of
refuge; and the surprise and pleasure of the soldiers can scarcely be
described, when they found themselves in smooth water, and surrounded
by the grandest scenery imaginable, “though, the instant before, the
fleet was labouring in a heavy gale, and rolling in a tremendous
sea.”[19]
Another landing of the troops took place, and no advantages resulted
from it to compensate the loss of time which allowed the French to
obtain strong reinforcements. Goat’s flesh was abundant, and poultry
plentiful; but the Turks had probably been apprised beforehand of
the munificence of the English, as every article was advanced on the
arrival of the fleet four hundred per cent. in price.
The remount of the cavalry formed an ostensible, almost an only reason,
for the expedition visiting Asia Minor, and consuming time that might
have been so successfully employed. The horses arrived, but from their
wretched quality and condition they proved a sorry equivalent for the
expense and trouble their acquisition cost.[20]
While the expedition was in the harbour of Marmorrice, an awful tempest
came suddenly on, and raged with unintermitting fury for two days. It
thundered violently--hailstones fell as large as walnuts--deluges of
water rushed from the mountains, sweeping every thing away. The horses
broke loose--the ships drove from their anchors--the Swiftsure,
a seventy-four, was struck with lightning--and many others lost
masts, spars, and were otherwise disabled. Amid this elemental war,
signal-guns fired from vessels in distress, and the howling of wolves
and other wild animals in the woods, added to the uproar.
After a protracted delay in waiting for the Turkish armament, which was
expected to have been in perfect readiness, the expedition left the
harbour without it on the 23rd of February. The sight, when the fleet
got under weigh, was most imposing; the men-of-war, transports, and
store-ships amounting to one hundred and seventy-five sail.
The British army was composed of the whole or portions of twenty-seven
regiments, exclusive of artillery and pioneers.[21] Its total strength
in rank and file, including one thousand sick and five hundred Maltese,
was fifteen thousand three hundred and thirty men. In this number all
the _attachés_ of the army were reckoned--and consequently the entire
force that could have been combatant in the field would not exceed
twelve thousand bayonets and sabres. This was certainly a small army
with which to attack an enemy in possession of the country, holding
fortified posts, with a powerful artillery, a numerous cavalry, and
having a perfect acquaintance with the only places on the coast where
it was practicable to disembark in safety.
On the 1st of March the Arab’s tower was in sight,--and next morning
the whole fleet entered Aboukir Bay.[22] On the following morning a
French frigate was seen running into Alexandria, having entered the bay
in company with the British fleet.[23]
The weather was unfavourable for attempting a landing of the troops.
This was a serious disappointment, and an accidental occurrence added
to the inconvenience it would have otherwise caused. Two engineer
officers, engaged in reconnoitring the coast, advanced too far into
the bay through an over-zealous anxiety to mark out a landing-place.
They were seen and overtaken by a French gun-boat, who fired into the
cutter, killing one of the engineers and making the other prisoner.
The survivor was brought ashore, and forwarded to Cairo to General
Menou; and thus, had the British descent been before doubtful, this
unfortunate discovery would have confirmed the certainty of an intended
landing, and allowed ample time for preparations being made to oppose
it.
The weather moderated in the morning of the 7th, and the signal was
made by the flag-ship “to prepare for landing.” But the sea was still
so much up that the attempt was postponed,--and with the exception
of an affair between the boats of the Foudroyant and a party of the
enemy, whom they drove from a block-house, that day passed quietly over.
The 8th was more moderate--the swell had abated--and preparations
for the landing commenced. At two o’clock the first division were in
the boats, amounting to five thousand five hundred men, under General
Coote; while the ships, on board of which the remainder of the army
still remained, were anchored as near the shore as possible, to allow
the landing brigades their immediate support. The right and left flanks
of the boats were protected by launches and gun-brigs; three sloops of
war, with springs upon their cables, had laid their broadsides towards
the beach; and the Fury and Tartarus had taken a position to cover the
troops with the fire of their mortars.
The French were drawn up on a ridge of sandhills, with an elevated
hillock in their centre, and twelve pieces of artillery in position
along their line. The moment was one of absorbing interest--and many a
heart beat fast as, in half-companies, the soldiers stood under arms in
the launches, impatiently waiting for the signal to advance.
A gun was fired; off sprang the boats, while the men-of-war opened
their batteries, and the bomb-vessels commenced throwing shells. The
cannonade from the shipping was promptly returned by the French lines
and Castle of Aboukir; while on swept the regiments towards the beach,
under a furious discharge of shot and shells, and a torrent of grape
and musketry, that ploughed the surface of the water,[24] or carried
death into the dense masses of men crowded in the launches. But
nothing could exceed the glorious rivalry displayed by both services
in advancing: while shot was hailing on the water, the sailors, as
the spray flashed from their oar-blades, nobly emulated each other
in trying who should first beach his boat. Each cheered the other
forward,--while the soldiers caught the enthusiastic spirit and
answered them with loud huzzas. The beach was gained,--the 23rd and
40th jumped into the surf, reached the shore, formed as they cleared
the water, and rushed boldly up the sandhills, never attempting to
draw a trigger, but leaving all to be decided by the bayonet. The
French regiments that confronted them were driven from the heights;
while pressing on, the Nole hills in the rear, with three pieces of
artillery, were captured.
The 42nd were equally successful; they formed with beautiful regularity
in the face of a French battalion protected by two guns--and after
defeating a charge of two hundred cavalry, stormed and occupied the
heights.
While these brilliant attacks had been in progress, the Guards were
charged by the French dragoons in the very act of landing, and a
temporary disorder ensued. The 58th had formed on the right, and,
by a well-directed fire, repulsed the cavalry with loss. The Guards
corrected their line, and instantly showed front--while the French,
unable to shake the formation of the British, retired behind the
sandhills.
The transport boats had been outstripped by those of the men-of-war--
and consequently, the Royals and 54th only touched the shore as the
dragoons rode off. Their landing was, however, admirably timed; for
a French column, under cover of the sandhills, was advancing with
fixed bayonets on the left flank of the Guards. On perceiving these
newly-landed regiments, its courage failed; it halted, delivered a
volley, and then hastily retreated.
The British had now possession of the heights; the brigade of Guards
was formed and advancing, and the boats returning to the ships for
the remainder of the army. Observing this, the enemy abandoned their
position on the ridge, and, retiring behind the sandhills in the rear,
for some time kept up a scattered fire. But on the British moving
forward they deserted the ground entirely, leaving three hundred killed
and wounded, eight pieces of cannon, and a number of horses to the
victors. The remainder of the brigades were safely disembarked--Sir
Ralph Abercrombie landed--and a position taken up, the right upon the
sea, and the left on Lake Maadie.
A landing in the face of an enemy, prepared and in position like the
French, under a heavy cannonade, and effected on a dangerous beach,
would naturally occasion a severe loss of life; and several promising
officers, and nearly five hundred men, were killed, wounded, and
missing. The only surprise is, that the casualties were not greater.
The mode in which an army is debarked exposes it unavoidably to fire--
and troops, packed by fifties in a launch, afford a striking mark for
an artillerist. Guns, already in position on the shore, enable those
who work them to obtain the range of an approaching object with great
precision; and the effect of a well-directed shot upon a boat crowded
with troops is necessarily most destructive.[25]
After the army had been united, it advanced by slow marches, some
trifling skirmishing daily occurring between the advanced posts. On the
12th, the British bivouac was at the town of Mandora, and on the 13th
Sir Ralph moved forward to attack the enemy, who were posted on a ridge
of heights.
The French, reinforced by two half brigades of infantry, a regiment
of cavalry from Cairo, and a corps from Rosetta, mustered about five
thousand five hundred of that arm, with five hundred horse, and
five-and-twenty pieces of artillery. Their position was well chosen,
as it stood on a bold eminence having an extensive glacis in its
front, which would allow full sweep for the fire of its numerous and
well-appointed artillery. The English attack was directed against the
right wing,--and in two lines, the brigades advanced in columns of
regiments, the reserve covering the movements, and marching parallel
with the first.
Immediately on debouching from a date-wood, the enemy descended from
the heights, and the 92nd--the leading regiment on the left--was
attacked by a furious discharge of grape and musketry; while the
French cavalry charged down the hill, and threw themselves upon the
90th, which led the right column. Though the charge was most gallantly
made, Latour Maubourg leading the dragoons at a gallop, a close and
shattering volley from the 90th obliged them to turn along the front
of the regiment, and retreat with a heavy loss. A few of the leading
files, however, had actually reached the line, and were bayoneted in
a desperate effort to break it. The attempt failed--and in executing
his duty gloriously, their gallant leader was desperately wounded. The
British pushed the reserve into action on the right; the Guards, in the
rear, to support the centre, and Doyle’s brigade, in column, behind the
left. The French were on every point forced from their position--but,
covered by the fire of their numerous guns and the fusilade of their
voltigeurs, they retreated across the plain, and occupied their own
lines on the heights of Alexandria.
Dillon’s regiment, during this movement, made a brilliant bayonet
charge, captured two guns, and turned them instantly on the enemy.
Wishing to follow up this success, Sir Ralph attempted to carry the
position by a _coup de main_; and advancing across the plain, he
directed the brigades of Moore and Hutchinson to assault the flanks
of the French position simultaneously. To attempt dislodging a force,
posted as the enemy were, could only end in certain discomfiture. The
troops could make no way[26]--a murderous fire of artillery mowed them
down--“the French, no longer in danger, had only to load and fire; aim
was unnecessary, the bullets could not but do their office, and plunge
into the lines.” For several hours the English remained, suffering this
exterminating fire patiently; and at sunset, the order being given to
fall back, the army retired and took up a position for the night.[27]
The British loss, its strength considered, was immense. Eleven hundred
men were killed and wounded,--while that of the enemy amounted barely
to a third, with four field-pieces, which they were obliged to abandon.
A strong position was now taken by Sir Ralph; the right reached the
sea, resting on the ruins of a Roman palace, and projecting a quarter
of a mile over heights in front. This promontory of sandhills and ruins
was some three hundred yards across, sloping gradually to a valley,
which divided it from the hills which formed the rest of the lines. The
extreme left appuied on two batteries--and Lake Maadie protected the
rear--and the whole, from sea to lake, extended about a mile. In front
of the right, the ground was uneven; but that before the centre would
admit cavalry to act. The whole space had once been a Roman colony--
and, on its ruined site, a hard-fought day was now about to be decided.
BATTLE OF ALEXANDRIA.
French position.--The English fortify their camp.--Occurrences.--
Menou attacks the British lines.--Battle of the 21st.--The
English commander wounded.--Casualties of both armies.--
Remarks.--Death of Sir Ralph Abercrombie.
The French position was still stronger than the English lines, as it
stretched along a ridge of lofty hills, extending from the sea on one
side to the canal of Alexandria on the other. A tongue of land in the
advance of their right, ran nearly for a mile parallel with the canal,
and had obliged the British posts to be thrown considerably back, and
thus obliqued their line. In a classic and military view, nothing could
be more imposing than the ground on which Menou’s army were encamped.
In the centre stood Fort Cretin; on the left, Fort Caffarelli;
Pompey’s Pillar showed boldly on the right; Cleopatra’s Needle on the
left; while Alexandria appeared in the background, with its walls
extending to the sea; and at the extremity of a long low neck of land,
the ancient Pharos was visible. Wherever the eye ranged, objects of
no common interest met it: some of the “wonders of the world” were
contiguous; and “the very ruins under foot were sacred from their
antiquity.”
The British army had little leisure, and probably as little
inclination, to indulge in classic recollections. The men were busily
engaged in fortifying the position, bringing up guns for the batteries,
and collecting ammunition and stores. The magazines were inconveniently
situated; and to roll weighty spirit-casks through the deep sands was
a most laborious task, and it principally devolved upon the seamen.
The fuel was particularly bad, the billets being obtained from the
date-tree, which it is almost impossible to ignite, and whose smoke,
when kindling, pains, by its pungency, the eyes of all within its
influence. Water was abundant, but of indifferent quality;[28] and as
Menou, with a most unjustifiable severity, inflicted death upon the
Arabs who should be found bringing sheep to the camp, the price of
fresh provisions was high, and the supply precarious.
On the 10th, an affair took place between an enemy’s patrol and a
detachment of British cavalry, under Colonel Archdale. It was a very
gallant, but very imprudent encounter--a third of the men, and half
the officers, being killed or taken. Another casualty occurred also,
to the great regret of all. Colonel Brice, of the Guards, in going his
rounds, was deceived by a mirage; and coming unexpectedly on an enemy’s
post, received a wound of which he died the third day, a prisoner.
Menou was reported to be advancing; and an Arab chief apprised Sir
Sydney Smith, that the French intended an attack upon the British camp
next morning. The information was discredited; but the result proved
that it was authentic.
On the 21st of March, the army, at three o’clock, as usual, stood to
their arms--and for half an hour all was undisturbed. Suddenly, a
solitary musket was fired, a cannon-shot succeeded it, and a spattering
fusilade, broken momentarily with the heavier booming of a gun,
announced that an attack was being made. The feebleness of the fire
rendered it doubtful against what point the real effort of the French
would be directed. All looked impatiently for daybreak, which, though
faintly visible in the east, seemed to break more tardily the more its
assistance was desired.
On the right, a noise was heard; all listened in breathless
expectation; shouts and a discharge of musketry succeeded; the roar
increased; momentarily it became louder,--there indeed the enemy were
in force--and there the British line was seriously assailed.
Favoured by broken ground, and covered by the haze of morning, the
French had partially surprised the videts, attacked the pickets, and
following them quickly, drove them back upon the line. One column
advanced upon the ruin field by the 58th, their drums beating the
_pas de charge_, and the officers cheering the men forward. Colonel
Houston, who commanded the regiment, fearing lest his own pickets
might have been retiring in front of the enemy’s column, reserved his
fire, until the glazed hats of the French were distinguishable in the
doubtful light. The 58th lined a wall partly dilapidated, but which in
some places afforded them an excellent breastwork; and the twilight
allowed the French column to be only distinctly seen when within thirty
yards of the post. As the regiment occupied detached portions of the
wall, where its greater ruin exposed it to attack, an irregular but
well-sustained fusilade was kept up, until the enemy’s column, unable
to bear the quick and well-directed musketry of the British, retired
into a hollow for shelter. There they reformed, and wheeling to the
right endeavoured to turn the left of the redoubt, while another column
marched against the battery occupied by the 28th. On the front attack
the regiment opened a heavy fire--but part of the enemy had gained
the rear, and another body penetrated through the ruined wall. Thus
assailed on every side, the 58th wheeled back two companies, who, after
delivering three effective volleys, rushed forward with the bayonet.
The 23rd now came to support the 58th--while the 42nd moved round
the exterior of the ruins, cutting off the French retreat; and of the
enemy, all who entered the redoubt were killed or taken.
The situation of the 28th and 58th was, for a time, as extraordinary as
it was dangerous--for at the same moment they were actually repelling
three separate attacks, and were assailed simultaneously on their
front, flanks, and rear.
The 42nd, in relieving the 28th, was exposed to a serious charge of
French cavalry. Nearly unperceived, the dragoons wheeled suddenly round
the left of the redoubt, and though the ground was full of holes, rode
furiously over tents and baggage, and, charging _en masse_, completely
overthrew the Highlanders. In this desperate emergency, the 42nd, with
broken ranks, and in that unavoidable confusion which, when it occurs,
renders cavalry so irresistible, fought furiously hand to hand, and
opposed their bayonets fearlessly to the sabres of the French. The
flank companies of the 40th, immediately beside them, dared not, for
a time, deliver their fire, the combatants were so intermingled in the
_mêlée_. At this moment General Stuart brought up the foreign brigade
in beautiful order, and their heavy and well-sustained fusilade decided
the fate of the day “Nothing could withstand it, and the enemy fled or
perished.”
During this charge of cavalry, Sir Ralph Abercrombie, who had ridden to
the right on finding it seriously engaged, advanced to the ruins where
the contest was raging, after having despatched his aide-de-camp[29]
with orders to the more distant brigades. He was quite alone; and some
French dragoons having penetrated to the spot, one, remarking that he
was a superior officer, charged and overthrew the veteran commander.
In an attempt to cut him down, the old man, nerved with a momentary
strength, seized the uplifted sword, and wrested it from his assailant,
while a Highland soldier transfixed the Frenchman with his bayonet.
Unconscious that he was wounded in the thigh, Sir Ralph complained only
of a pain in his breast, occasioned, as he supposed, by a blow from the
pommel of the sword during his recent struggle with the dragoon. The
first officer that came up was Sir Sydney Smith, who, having broken the
blade of his sabre, received from Sir Ralph the weapon of which he had
despoiled the French hussar.
The cavalry being completely repulsed, Sir Ralph walked firmly to the
redoubt on the right of the Guards, from which a commanding view of
the entire battle-field could be obtained. The French, though driven
from the camp, still maintained the battle on the right, and charging
with their reserve cavalry, attacked the foreign brigade. Here, too,
they were resolutely repulsed; and their infantry, finding their
efforts everywhere unsuccessful, changed their formation and acted _en
tirailleur_, with the exception of one battalion, which still held
a flèche[30] in front of the redoubt, on either flank of which the
Republican colours were planted.
At this time the ammunition of the British was totally exhausted; some
regiments, particularly the reserve, had not a single cartridge; and in
the battery the supply for the guns was reduced to a single round. In
consequence, the British fire on the right had nearly ceased, but in
the centre the engagement still continued.
There the attack had commenced at daybreak; a column of grenadiers,
supported by a heavy line of infantry, furiously assailing the Guards,
and driving in the flankers which had been thrown out to check their
advance. Observing the echelon[31] formation of the British, the
French general instantly attempted to turn their left; but the officer
commanding on that flank as promptly prevented it, by throwing some
companies sharply back, while Coote’s brigade having come up, and
opening its musketry, obliged the enemy to give way and retire. Finding
the attack in column fail, the French broke into extended order and
opened a scattered fusilade, while every gun that could be brought to
bear by their artillery was turned on the English position. But all was
vain; though suffering heavily from this murderous fire, the formation
of the Guards was coolly corrected when disturbed by the cannonade--
while the fine and imposing attitude of these regiments removed all
hope that they could be shaken, and prevented any renewal of attack.
The British left had never been seriously attempted, consequently its
casualties were very few, and occasioned by a distant fire from the
French guns, and a trifling interchange of musketry.
While the British right was, from want of ammunition, nearly _hors
de combat_, the French approached the redoubt once more. They, too,
had expended their cartridges--and both the assailants and assailed
actually pelted the other with stones,[32] of which missiles there was
a very abundant supply upon the ground. A sergeant of the 28th had
his skull beaten in by a blow, and died upon the spot. The grenadiers
of the 40th, however, not relishing this novel mode of attack and
defence, moved out to end the business with the bayonet. Instantly the
assailants ran--the sharpshooters abandoned the hollows--and the
battalion, following their example, evacuated the flèche, leaving the
battle-ground in front unoccupied by any save the dead and dying.
Menou’s attempts had all been signally defeated. He perceived that
the British lines had sustained no impression that would justify a
continuation of the attack, and he determined to retreat. His brigades
accordingly moved off under the heights of their position in excellent
order; and though, for a considerable distance, they were forced
to retire within an easy range of cannon-shot, the total want of
ammunition obliged the English batteries to remain silent, and permit
the French march to be effected with trifling molestation. The cannon
on the British left, and the guns of some men-of-war cutters, which had
anchored close in with the land upon the right, kept up a galling fire,
their shots plunging frequently into the French ranks, and particularly
into those of a corps of cavalry posted on a bridge over the canal of
Alexandria, to observe any movement the British left might threaten.
At ten o’clock the action had ended. Sir Ralph Abercrombie previously
refused to quit the field, and remained exposed to the heavy cannonade
directed on the battery where he stood, until perfectly assured that
the French defeat had been decisive. From what proved a fatal wound he
appeared at first to feel but little inconvenience, complaining only
of the contusion on his breast.[33] When, however, the day was won,
and exertion no longer necessary, nature yielded, and in an exhausted
state he was carried in a hammock off the field, accompanied by the
tears and blessings of the soldiery. In the evening he was removed, for
better care, on board the flag-ship, where he continued until his death.
Immediate attention was bestowed upon the wounded, who, from the
confined nature of the ground on which the grand struggles of the day
had occurred, were lying in fearful numbers all around. Many of the
sufferers had been wounded by grape-shot, others mangled by the sabres,
or trodden down by the horses of the cavalry. Death had been busily
employed. Of the British, two hundred and forty were dead, including
six officers; eleven hundred and ninety men and sixty officers wounded;
and thirty privates and three officers missing. Other casualties had
occurred. The tents had been shred to pieces by the French guns, and
many of the wounded and sick, who were lying there, were killed. No
wonder could be expressed that the loss of life had been so terrible,
for thousands of brass cannon-balls were lying loosely about, and
glistening on the sands.
The French loss had been most severe. One thousand and fifty bodies
were buried[34] on the field of battle, and nearly seven hundred
wounded were found mingled with the dead. The total loss sustained by
Menou’s army could not have been much under four thousand; and in this
the greater portion of his principal officers must be included. General
Roiz was found dead in the rear of the redoubt, and the French order of
battle discovered in his pocket. Near the same place two guns had been
abandoned,[35] and these, with a stand of colours, fell, as trophies of
their victory, to the conquerors.
No army could have behaved more gallantly than the British. Surrounded,
partially broken, and even without a cartridge left, the contest was
continued and a victory won. That the French fought bravely, that
their attacks were vigorously made, and, after discomfiture, as boldly
repeated, must be admitted; and that, in becoming the assailant, Menou
conferred an immense advantage on the British, is equally true. There
Menou betrayed want of judgment; for had he but waited forty-eight
hours the British must have attacked him. Indeed, the assault was
already planned; and, as it was to have been made in the night,
considering the strength of their position, and the fine _matériel_ of
the Republican troops, a more precarious trial could never have been
hazarded. But the case was desperate; the successes of the 8th and
13th,--and dearly bought, though gloriously achieved, they were,--
must have been rendered nugatory, unless forward operations could have
been continued. In short, Menou fought Abercrombie’s battle--and he
who must have been assailed, became himself the assailant.
Military criticism, like political disquisitions, come not within the
design of a work merely intended to describe the action of the battle,
or the immediate events that preceded or resulted; but, if the truth
were told, during these brief operations, from the landing to the
evening of the 21st, mistakes were made on both sides. The military
character of Britain had been sadly lowered by mismanagement at home,
and still more ridiculously undervalued abroad,--and it remained for
future fields and a future conqueror to re-establish for England a
reputation in arms, and prove that the island-spirit wanted only a
field for its display.
After lingering a few days, the French Generals Lannuse and Bodet died
of their wounds; and on the evening of the 28th, the British army
had to lament the decease of their gallant and beloved commander.
An attempt to extract the ball, attended with great pain, was
unsuccessful. Mortification ensued, Sir Ralph sank rapidly, and while
his country and his army engrossed his every thought, he expired, full
of years and honour, universally and most justly lamented.[36]
The eulogy of his successor in command thus concludes: “Were it
permitted for a soldier to regret any one who has fallen in the service
of his country, I might be excused for lamenting him more than any
other person; but it is some consolation to those who tenderly loved
him, that as his life was honourable so was his death glorious. His
memory will be recorded in the annals of his country, will be sacred to
every British soldier, and embalmed in the recollection of a grateful
posterity.”
CAPE OF GOOD HOPE.
Expedition to the Cape.--Troops employed. Occurrences during the
voyage.--Fleet arrives on the coast of Africa.--Cape described.
Its garrison. Janssens’ plans.--Landing delayed.--Effected on the
6th.--Action with the Batavian army.--Total defeat of Janssens.--
Advance on Cape Town.--Its defences.--Town capitulates.--
Negotiation between English and Dutch Generals.--Colony
surrendered.
In 1805, the British Government, having ascertained that the Cape of
Good Hope had only a force under two thousand regular troops for its
protection, and that the militia and inhabitants were well-inclined to
assist an English army, in case a landing should be made, determined
to attempt the reduction of that colony, by the employment of a body
of troops cantoned in the neighbourhood of Cork, assisted by some
regiments already on board the India ships at Falmouth.
The expedition was to be a secret one--and the troops embarked at
Cork were ostensibly intended for service in the Mediterranean. It
was supposed that this report would prevent suspicion, particularly
as the Company’s fleet sailed alone, as if its destination was really
Madras direct. Sealed orders were, however, given to the commanders to
be opened in a certain latitude,--and in these they were ordered to
rendezvous at Madeira.
The troops composing the expedition were placed under the command of
General Baird. They comprised the 24th, 38th, 59th, 71st, 72nd, 83rd,
and 98th, part of the 20th light dragoons, with artillery, artificers,
and recruits, making a total force of six thousand six hundred and
fifty rank and file.
It was at first suspected that some troops which had left Rochfort in
two line-of-battle ships, and escaped the vigilance of our cruisers,
might have been intended to reinforce the garrison at the Cape, and
General Baird conceived the corps intrusted to him not sufficiently
strong to achieve the objects of the expedition. He asked, under
this impression, for an additional force, and stated the grounds on
which the request was made; but, in the mean time, it was ascertained
that the French troops had proceeded to the West Indies; and that,
therefore, the Cape of Good Hope had received no increase to its
military establishment.
After another application to obtain an increase to the corps already
under his orders, by having the 8th regiment added to the force, the
expedition sailed, stopping at Madeira and St. Salvador to obtain
water and provisions. Nothing of moment occurred in the voyage to
South America; the passage was tedious, and an Indiaman and transport
ran on a low sandy island, called the Roccas, and were totally lost.
Fortunately, the men on board and twelve chests of dollars were saved
from the wreck. Only three individuals perished;--of these, General
Yorke, in command of the artillery, was one, and Major Spicer, the
next in seniority, succeeded him. While staying at St. Salvador, the
regiments were landed and inspected, a remount of fifty horses obtained
for the cavalry, and, all arrangements being completed, the expedition
sailed for its final destination on the 28th of November, and made the
African coast, a little to the northward of the Cape, on the 4th of
January, 1806.
“Table Bay, on the shore, and almost in the centre of which Cape Town
stands, receives its name from that extraordinary eminence called Table
Mountain, which rises about three thousand six hundred and eighty-seven
feet above the level of the sea, and which terminates in a perfectly
flat surface at that height, where the face of the rock on the side
of Cape Town descends almost perpendicularly. To the eastward of the
mountain, separated from it by a chasm, is Charles’s Mount, more
generally called the Devil’s Tower; and on the westward, a round hill
rises on the right hand of the bay, called the Lion’s Head, from which
a ridge of high land, terminating in another smaller hill, called the
Lion’s Rump, stretches towards the sea.”[37]
The town itself is handsome and extensive; and the streets,
intersecting each other at right angles, are broad and airy generally
built with stone, and with terraces in front. The Company’s gardens,
walks, parade, and castle, all add to the beauty of the place, and
render it superior to any colonial city in the possession of Great
Britain.
The coast is everywhere dangerous--landing, excepting in the bays, and
that, too, in favourable weather, almost impracticable--and hence,
a very inferior force on shore, if the surf were at all up, might
successfully resist any attempt at the disembarkation of an army.
The troops in garrison consisted of a detachment of Batavian artillery,
the 22nd Dutch regiment of the line, a German regiment of Waldecks, and
a native corps, which acted as light infantry. To these, an auxiliary
battalion, formed from the seamen and marines of a frigate and corvette
which had been wrecked upon the coast, were added; while a number of
irregulars, mounted and dismounted, comprised of the boors, and armed
with guns of enormous length of barrel, completed the force of General
Janssens, who was then commandant at the Cape.
The governor had a high reputation, both as a soldier and a civilian,
and from the excellence of his measures since his arrival at the Cape,
was held most deservedly in great estimation by the colonists. On the
appearance of the British fleet, although his numerical superiority
was greater than that of his enemy, he wisely considered that the
_matériel_ of the invaders was far more efficient than his own; and
leaving a garrison in Cape Town, he determined to fall back on the
interior with the remainder of his troops, and carry on a desultory
war, until the arrival of a French or Dutch fleet from Europe should
enable him to resort to active measures and save the colony. This plan,
though ruinous to the inhabitants if carried out, would have rendered
the subjugation of the Cape a very difficult and tedious undertaking
for the British--and in this posture of affairs the expedition made
the coast, and came to anchor on the evening of the 4th, just out of
range of the batteries in Table Bay.
The weather was fortunately calm, but the day was too far advanced to
admit a landing of the troops--but all was prepared for effecting
it on the morrow. The coast was sounded, the approaches to the town
reconnoitred, and a small inlet, sixteen miles north-east of the town,
called Leopard’s Bay, was selected as the point on which the troops
should be disembarked. The transports accordingly weighed and took
their stations, while the men-of-war got into a position to cover the
landing, in case of opposition, with their guns.
During the night the surf had risen so prodigiously, that at daylight
it was declared unsafe for boats to attempt the beach, and a landing
at Saldana Bay was proposed. There it could be easily effected, but
it would carry the army a distance from the town, separate it on its
march from the fleet, oblige it to depend for its supplies on what
provisions it could carry, or any which by accidental circumstances it
could obtain on its route: it would also entail a harassing march of
seventy miles on soldiers so long cooped up on shipboard; and that,
too, in the hot season of the year, over a heavy sand, where water was
not procurable.[38] Still, the uncertainty of the weather, and the
necessity of an immediate attack, overcame all other objections; and
on the evening of the 5th, General Beresford, with the 38th regiment
and the 20th light dragoons, sailed for Saldana, with an understanding,
that the remainder of the army should proceed thither on the following
morning.
But daylight on the 6th broke with happier promise; the surf had gone
down considerably; and it was at once decided that the troops should be
landed without farther loss of time. The Highland brigade was instantly
transferred from the transports to the boats, and the 71st, 72nd, and
93rd, effected a landing with but a single casualty, and that arising
from the swamping of a launch, by which five-and-thirty Highlanders
were drowned.
No other loss attended the operation--the light company of the 93rd
cleared the brushwood of a few skirmishers that had been thrown out
by the enemy--and the remainder of the troops debarked without any
opposition.
The artillery, consisting of four six-pounders and a couple of
howitzers, were landed on the 7th; and the whole of the force being
now safely on shore, the British general commenced his march direct on
Cape Town, the guns being dragged through the sands by fatigue parties
furnished from the fleet.
The advance was unopposed until the English army had approached a
line of heights, some four miles distant from the landing place.
The Blawberg, as one of these eminences is called, was occupied by
burgher cavalry--and the videts announced that General Janssens was
in position on the other side of the high grounds, and his whole
disposable force drawn up in order of battle. The march was steadily
continued, and when the Blawberg was crowned by the advanced guard,
the Batavian army, formed in two lines, with twenty-five pieces of
artillery and a large corps of irregular cavalry, was discovered.
General Baird formed his corps into two columns of brigades; the
right, comprising the 24th, 59th, and 83rd, under Lieutenant-Colonel
Baird, commanding in the absence of General Beresford; and the left,
consisting of the Highland regiments, under General Fergusson. While
deploying into line, the Batavian guns opened, and their cavalry, by a
left extension, threatened the right of the British. Baird’s brigade
refused its right, checking the burgher horse with its musketry; and
the Highland regiments on the left made a rapid movement under a heavy
cannonade, and advanced to the charge. The right wing of the Batavian
army broke without waiting an assault--the left followed the example--
and the field was totally abandoned by the enemy, with a considerable
loss in killed and wounded.
Without cavalry it was impossible to complete the _déroute_. The guns
were, therefore, carried off; and quitting the road to Cape Town,
Janssens, in pursuance of his previous plan, marched eastward, and
moved towards Hottentot Holland, with a hope of protracting a war in
the interior. Of course the capital was the object of the conqueror.
The fleet was in an exposed anchorage--and to equip his army for
ulterior operations, and secure his communication with the sea, it was
necessary to possess Cape Town.
The advance was very distressing, and the troops suffered much. The
badness of the roads, the heat of the weather, and worse still, the
scarcity of water, was severely felt before the brigades, at a late
hour, reached their bivouacs in Reit Valley, a farming establishment
belonging to the Dutch government. Here some salt provisions, which
had been floated through the surf, were brought up by the marines,
and partitioned among the soldiers; while the few and scanty springs
attached to the farm afforded them an indifferent supply of water. An
immediate movement on the capital was imperative; and the next day the
British reached a position beside the Salt River--an inlet some short
distance from the strong lines which cover Cape Town.
These defences are formed of a chain of redoubts, with a connecting
parapet, furnished with banquettes[39] and a dry-ditch. They extend
about eight hundred yards, and unite the Devil’s Berg with the sea.
These lines were very formidable, as they had been considerably
strengthened by the English during their possession of the colony. One
hundred and fifty guns and howitzers were mounted on the works; and
several batteries had been erected on the escarpe of the mountain,
that would have exposed assailing troops to a flanking fire, and, in
storming the lines, occasioned a severe loss of life. One battery and
blockhouse were placed on a shoulder of the hill, thirteen hundred feet
above the level of the plain. But this was probably the least effective
of the defences; as, in modern warfare, a plunging fire is not regarded
much. A mile behind the lines the castle of Good Hope is situated
at the entrance of the town. It is a pentagon, with outworks strong
enough to require a regular approach; and that side of the city which
overlooks the bay is secured alike by the fire of the castle, and a
number of batteries mounted with guns of heavy calibre.
To carry works so extensive, and so formidable in their defences,
with a small corps like Baird’s, unprovided with any artillery but
the light field-pieces they had brought through the sands, was not to
be attempted; and it was determined to obtain some heavy guns, and a
reinforcement of seamen and marines from the fleet. But these were not
required: the enemy sent out a flag of truce, and an armistice was
agreed upon, which terminated ultimately in a capitulation. The town
and its defences were given up to the British army, and, without a
shot, works were surrendered to a force of not four thousand men, on
which were mounted four hundred and fifty-six guns and mortars, most of
them of the heaviest calibre.
Janssens, after his defeat, retired towards the interior; and having
disbanded the militia and burgher cavalry, which had accompanied him,
he took a position at Kloof, with twelve hundred regular troops,
and some five-and-twenty guns. General Baird, anxious to effect
the tranquillity of the colony and terminate hostilities at once,
despatched General Beresford to make overtures to the Dutch governor,
and induce him to capitulate. A long and doubtful negotiation took
place between the British and Batavian commanders, which eventually
ended in the whole of the colony of the Cape of Good Hope and its
dependencies, with all the rights and privileges held and exercised
by the Dutch government, being formally transferred to his Britannic
Majesty.
Although the capture of the Cape was effected with trifling loss, and
the opposition given to the British troops was far less formidable
than might have been anticipated, still the operations which were
so deservedly crowned with success, were boldly planned and bravely
executed. Janssens exhibited no military talent,--and in a country
abounding in strong positions, to offer battle in an open plain, and
oppose an irregular force to a well-disciplined army, was a strange
decision of the Batavian commander, and could only terminate in defeat.
In an engagement in which the Dutch army was so easily routed, and
the ulterior operations which followed, there was nothing of that
brilliancy which marked other victories achieved by British bravery--
but no conquest was attended with more advantages and permanent
results. A noble colony was obtained for Great Britain with little
loss of life--and the only portion of Africa worth her occupation was
secured to the “Mistress of the Seas.”
MAIDA.
Preliminary remarks.--State of Sicily.--Change in the command.--
French force in Calabria.--Sir John Stuart lands there.--Strength
of British and French corps.--Reynier quits his position to
attack Stuart--is completely defeated.--Casualties, French and
British.--Subsequent operations.--Scylla captured.--Insurrection
of the Calabrese.--Fall of Gaeta.--Scylla captured.--Garrison
brought safely off.--Concluding observations.
It has been remarked with great justice, that until the Peninsular war
had been for some time in progress, the military enterprises of Great
Britain invariably failed from the blind policy of those who planned
them. Instead of condensing the power of the empire into one grand
and sustained effort, its strength was frittered away in paltry and
unprofitable expeditions. An army, imposing in its full integrity,
if subdivided into corps, and employed on detached services, and in
different countries, can achieve nothing beyond a partial success--for
soon after its divided brigades are landed on their scenes of action,
their weakness produces their discomfiture, and they retire necessarily
before a superior force. In the first moment of disembarkation it may
create a temporary alarm; but beyond this no object can be gained, and
the result ends in an idle demonstration.
Political details are generally unconnected with the actual occurrences
on the battle-field; and it will be enough to remark, that Sicily
should have at this period commanded more attention from England than
she did. Naturally defensible, with a well-affected population of
nearly a million and a half, she had been taught to place but little
reliance on her allies. One British corps held Messina,--but a French
force was moving to the extremity of Calabria, avowedly to drive it
from the island. Though well-affected, the Sicilians were distrustful;
they feared that they should be abandoned to the vengeance of those
troops who had already overrun Naples,--and they believed that the
British regiment waited only until the French army should make its
descent, when they would embark for Malta, and leave the Sicilians to
their fate.
At this time, Sir John Stuart succeeded Sir James Craig, a man best
described by terming him an “old-school commander.” Under him the
army had been totally inactive: and eight thousand excellent troops
were permitted to occupy their quarters idly, when so much depended
upon a bold, even though not a very fortunate, display of energy in
the British. Stuart at once perceived the mischievous consequences
this indolence of his predecessor had occasioned; and he determined
by active operations to redeem the British army from the apathetic
character it had too justly obtained among the Sicilian people.
The British corps, amounting to eight thousand men, was concentrated
at Messina. In Calabria the French were considerably detached; and
though numerically stronger, with three thousand in the South, four
thousand in Upper Calabria, and the remainder occupying numerous posts,
it was quite practicable to take them in detail, effect a landing
between the two corps, engage them separately, and clear the country
from St. Euphemia to the Castle of Scylla. To insure success, despatch
and secrecy were required. The first rested with Stuart, and every
arrangement necessary on his part was effected; the latter depended on
the Sicilian court, and by it the secrecy of the intended expedition
was undoubtedly betrayed.
On the 28th of June, at Melazzo, the embarkation of five thousand men
was quietly accomplished--and on the third morning they landed on
the beach of St. Euphemia. During the 2nd and 3rd stores and supplies
were disembarked; and moving forward, on that evening the pickets of
the rival armies confronted each other. The enemy’s force was at first
supposed to be merely the division of Upper Calabria; but that of
the South had formed a junction; and Reynier had now seven thousand
infantry, and a few troops of cavalry amounting to three hundred and
fifty sabres.
The British in numbers were greatly inferior. Five thousand infantry,
six six-pounders and eight mountain guns, formed their whole strength.
Reynier was also in position--his army being posted on some heights
which overlooked the march of the British as they moved through a low
country, at first partially wooded, but opening into a spacious plain,
and of course permitting their numbers and dispositions to be correctly
ascertained by their enemy during the advance.
This, as the result proved, was an unfortunate advantage for the French
General. Whether reckoning too much on his opponent’s inferiority
of force, or undervaluing the character of his soldiers, Reynier,
supposing that Stuart, having advanced in error, would retire on
discovering his mistake, abandoned the heights, passed a river in his
front, and offered battle on the plain. As his columns approached,
General Stuart at once perceived, from the ground they covered, that
Reynier’s force was much larger than he had expected, and that he
had united his detached brigades; but, with the just confidence of a
British leader he trusted to the bravery of his troops; and in that
safe reliance boldly stood “the hazard of the die.”
The battle commenced about nine o’clock--and there was no manœuvring
on either side. The ground was level, and both armies, under cover
of their light troops, advanced steadily and deployed into line. The
enemy’s left was composed of voltigeurs, and the right of the British
that opposed them (Kempt’s brigade) was formed of a light infantry
battalion and the Corsician Rangers. After an interchange of three
volleys, the French were ordered to advance--at the same time the
British lowered their bayonets, and both pressed boldly forward. The
front ranks were now within six paces of each other--the French
advancing, cheered by the “_En avant, mes enfans!_” of their officers.
The British needed no encouragement--on they came, with that imposing
steadiness which told what the result must be, when bayonets crossed,
and “steel met steel.” The voltigeurs had not firmness to abide the
shock; they broke and turned, but too late for flight to save them.
Their front rank was bayonetted and trodden down--while the rear
endeavoured to escape by a disorderly rush from the field, exposed to
severe loss from the British artillery.
Kempt’s gallant and successful charge was ably seconded by Ackland’s
brigade, which held the right centre. They advanced against the
demi-brigade opposed to them, forced it back across the Amato, and
never allowed the routed wing one moment to rally. The pursuit was so
ardently continued, that for a mile the French were followed by the
victors, suffering heavily in killed and wounded, and losing a number
of prisoners.
This success, though brilliant, was far from being decisive. The
ardour of the right wing had carried it away, leaving the left
totally unsupported, and open to Reynier’s undivided efforts. From
the superiority of his force, he showed a larger front, and availing
himself of this advantage, endeavoured to turn the British left--and
in this attempt his cavalry had nearly succeeded. After a feint upon
the centre, they wheeled sharply to the right making a flank movement,
while their infantry threatened the English line with a charge. This
was the crisis of the action. The French advanced,--Stuart refusing
his flank, and obliqueing his line from the centre. Reynier’s cavalry
were about to charge, when, fortunately, the 20th regiment, under
Colonel Ross,[40] which had landed after the march of the army, came
up. The attack was already made, the cavalry advancing, when Ross,
under cover of some underwood, deployed in double-quick. Within a
short distance, a close and murderous volley was thrown in, and the
cavalry completely broken. The British line cheered and moved forward,
the French gave way, and a complete _déroute_ succeeded. No victory,
considering the numbers opposed, could have been more decisive. Seven
hundred killed, a thousand prisoners, and a large proportion of
wounded, were the estimated loss of the enemy--while this was achieved
by an amount of casualties greatly disproportioned, the victors having
but one officer and forty-four men killed, and eleven officers and two
hundred and seventy-one men wounded.
For that night the British army bivouacked on the battle-ground--and
having received supplies from the shipping, advanced on the 6th to
overtake the enemy’s rear; while a brigade under Colonel Oswald marched
on the French depôt at Montelione, of which it took possession, making
six hundred prisoners. The whole of the commissariat stores, with the
entire baggage, and the military chest, were captured; and the remnant
of the French army was saved only by abandoning arms and accoutrements,
and retiring with all the confusion attendant upon a signal defeat.
Nothing could exceed the enthusiasm with which the victors were
received. The defended places along the coast, turned on the land side
by the army, of course surrendered unconditionally. The whole of the
Peninsula was rapidly crossed, and on the 11th of July, the leading
British brigade invested the Castle of Scylla.
This place, so deeply associated with ancient recollections, stands
on a sheer rock, commanding the eastern point of the entrance of
the Straits of Messina. The difficulties experienced by navigators
occasionally in this confined channel, almost realize the old-world
legends of its dangers. Once caught in the currents, when passing
Cape Pelorus with light or contrary winds, a vessel must run for the
anchorage, which lies directly beneath the batteries of the castle; and
hence the possession of the place, especially to a maritime nation, was
an object of paramount importance.
For some days the efforts of the English were confined to firing on the
castle with the field guns. Of course, artillery of a light calibre
could effect nothing but annoyance; until, on the 19th, when some
heavy cannon were obtained from Messina. On the 21st they were placed
in battery and opened with great effect; and on the same evening, as
the guns were breaching rapidly, the commandant accepted terms, and
surrendered the castle to the besiegers.
Until circumstances, unnecessary to detail here, induced the British
army to abandon Calabria, Scylla was strengthened and maintained.
The Calabrese were now in open insurrection--and a force, dangerous
and dreaded by the French as the Spanish guerillas were afterwards,
sprang up among the mountains of the upper province, and occasioned the
invading army, under Massena, constant alarm, and sometimes a serious
loss.
In a neglected country like Calabria, crime and violence were fostered
by the total want of a police, and the difficulties which interposed
in bringing offenders to justice. The mountains afforded a secure
asylum to delinquents; there they retired when pursued, and there
occasionally, uniting into bodies of considerable strength, by a
sudden descent upon the low country, they interrupted the French
communications, endangered their detached posts, and became at last so
troublesome, as to require Murat’s most strenuous exertions, before
their outrages could be repressed, and their leaders exterminated. To
an _élève_, who from an aid-de-camp had been raised to the rank of
general, the task was intrusted; and Manhes, it would appear, executed
his orders with firmness and ability.[41] Though deserted by the
allies on whom they had so strongly depended, the Calabrese, after
the British had left their peninsula for Sicily, kept up a desultory
contest; and, for a considerable time, “neither excessive severity of
punishment, burning their villages, destroying their possessions, nor
promises of amnesty, brought them to submit to Joseph’s government.”[42]
Gaeta, though second only to Gibraltar as a place of natural strength,
after a weak defence, surrendered to the French. The Prince of Hesse
Philipstal, who had been appointed governor, was, in the unhappy spirit
of these times, intrusted with a command for which he was totally
unsuited. He threw away his ammunition and ruined his artillery by
a too early and ineffectual fire, himself standing for hours on the
batteries performing the duty of a bombardier, and estimating the merit
of his defence, rather by the number of rounds discharged from his
guns, than their effect upon the besiegers.[43]
The Castle of Scylla was very differently defended. As a point of
communication with the Calabrese, the British General had determined
to hold it to the last,--and such were the instructions given to
Colonel Robertson, and the orders were admirably fulfilled. As the
fortress, seaward, was open to the fleet, a flight of steps was cut
in the rock to the water’s edge, and this outlet to the sea was
not visible from any ground occupied by the enemy. When Scylla was
literally reduced to a heap of ruins, and the French in the very act of
entering a breach so extensively ruined as to be totally indefensible,
the garrison, during a lull in a gale that had been blowing for two
preceding days, were cleverly brought off.
On the morning of the 15th, Colonel Robertson announced by telegraph
to Sir Sydney Smith that the works were nearly destroyed, and his
guns dismounted or disabled. When the gale moderated on the 19th,
the Admiral instantly gave orders to rescue the soldiers,--and the
men-of-war boats pulled right across the bay under a tremendous fire,
and relieved the brave garrison with a loss comparatively trifling.
The French were actually in the fort, their batteries maintaining
a sweeping fire of grape-shot and shells, and yet in this bold and
successful effort, the united casualties of both services did not
amount to more than twenty men.
Although military achievements, on a minor scale, have been eclipsed by
the more brilliant conquests obtained by British armies in subsequent
campaigns, still Maida was not only a glorious, but, in its results, a
most important victory. Independently of humbling a presumptuous enemy,
raising the depressed reputation of the British army, and converting
the distrusting population of Sicily into grateful admirers,[44] the
positive results of Sir John Stuart’s expedition were the destruction
of all the military and naval resources of Calabria, and the occupation
of a post which for eighteen months secured the navigation of the
Straits of Messina, and, in a great degree, occasioned the meditated
descent on Sicily to fail.
OPENING OF PENINSULAR WAR.
BATTLE OF ROLICA.
British troops sent to the Continent.--Failure of the expedition
to Gottenburgh.--State of Portugal.--An army despatched to
assist in its deliverance.--Lands in Mondego bay.--Advance of
the British.--Movements of the French.--Village of Rolica.--
Battle.--Anecdotes and death of Colonel Lake.--Arrival of
reinforcements.
The employment of a British army to assist in the liberation of
Portugal appears only to have been decided upon, after the wildest
design which ever crossed the imagination of a blundering statesman,
had been found too absurd even to admit of an experimental trial.
It had been considered advisable to turn a military force against
the over-weening influence of Napoleon on the Continent; and an
army of ten thousand men, under the command of Sir John Moore, was
accordingly despatched, in May, 1808, to assist Sweden in defending
herself against the united powers of Russia, France, and Denmark. On
reaching Gottenburgh, the British regiments were not even permitted
to debark; but men and horses, after a tedious voyage, were left by
their inhospitable ally “tossing in the anchorage.” Though reduced
to a pitiable state of weakness, the Swedish monarch was actually
dreaming of conquest; and, a power politically impotent, demanded of
those despatched to assist in his defence, that they should join him
in aggression. A descent on the island of Zealand, in face of armed
fortresses and a superior force, was first propounded, and, of course,
rejected. “It was next proposed that the British alone should land
in Russian Finland, storm a fortress, and take a position there.”
This notion was still more preposterous than the former; and Sir John
Moore endeavoured to prove that “ten thousand British soldiers were
insufficient to encounter the undivided force of the Russian empire,
which could be quickly brought against them, at a point so near St.
Petersburgh.”[45] Some other projects, equally impracticable, were
declined--and this ill-advised expedition ended as might have been
expected. After being exposed to the indignity of an arrest, the
British general returned to England with his army, “leaving Sweden,” in
Napoleon’s words, “to fulfil her destinies.”
Spain had in the mean time been overrun by the French armies,--the
capital was occupied, the dynasty changed, and the kingdom prostrate
at the feet of Napoleon. Yet in this gloomy hour, when trodden to the
earth, the national spirit remained unbroken--and the flame of popular
discontent was not quenched, but smouldering. Cruelty and oppression
had roused the Spaniards into action--a desultory war raged in several
provinces--and every day it became more formidable and fierce.
Nor was this hostility to foreign domination confined to Spain; it
had spread itself to Portugal, and Junot’s arbitrary measures roused
a spirit of resistance that wanted but an opportunity to display
itself. A recurrence to terrorism by the French lieutenant only
provoked retaliation. Oporto revolted, and deforced the garrison--a
rising in the north, and the establishment of a provisional government
succeeded--while, simultaneously, the insurrection broke out in
the opposite extremity of the kingdom; and the French, after an
unsuccessful attempt to suppress it, were driven from Algarve.
Junot, at first, endeavoured to conciliate and gain time, should no
other object be achieved--but the Portuguese saw clearly his designs,
and would no longer permit themselves to be deluded by the hollow
professions of one, whom they justly looked upon as the enslaver of
their country. Risings became general; and to repress this spirit of
insubordination, the French resorted to severity. It was decreed, that
resistance to the troops should be punished by the destruction of the
town or village where it occurred; and that individuals taken in arms
should be shot, their property pillaged, and their houses levelled to
the earth. These were no idle threats--on the contrary, they were
carried into ferocious execution. Leyria was destroyed by Margaron--
and Loison’s treatment of the inhabitants of Evora and Guardo is
indelibly branded on the revengeful memories of the Portuguese. These
towns were razed and plundered, numbers of their citizens and priests
put to the sword, the women violated, and to neither sex nor age was
mercy extended. To crown the whole, excessive contributions were laid
upon an impoverished people--and inability to pay made a pretext for
spoliation. Could it then be wondered at that a terrible reaction
ensued--that the country should be overrun by guerillas[46]--and that
vengeance, when it could be obtained, was most unmercifully exacted?
At this momentous period, England determined to make an effort in the
cause of freedom, and come to the assistance of the oppressed. Although
crippled by the number of irregular bands that were swarming over
Alentejo, Junot held the fortresses of Almeida, Elvas, and Peniche,
which, with the minor posts in their possession, gave the French a hold
upon the country from which it would be difficult to drive them.
The force destined for the relief of Portugal was sent partly from
Ireland, and partly from Gibraltar. Nine thousand men from Cork, under
Sir Arthur Wellesley, landed in Mondego bay on the 6th of August--and
these were joined, two days afterwards, by Spencer’s division of five
thousand--making thus a total force of about fourteen thousand, in
which two hundred of the 20th light dragoons and eighteen pieces of
artillery were included.
A combined movement with a Portuguese corps under Bernardine Friere
having been arranged, it was determined to move at once upon the
capital; and on the morning of the 9th the British advanced guard,
consisting of a part of the 60th and 95th rifles, commenced its march,
supported by the brigades of Generals Hill and Ferguson. On the next
day the remainder of the army followed--the men provided with sixty
rounds of cartridges, provisions for three days, and attended by a
number of mules, loaded with stores of various descriptions. “No troops
ever took the field in higher spirits, or in a state of more perfect
discipline. Confident in their leader likewise, and no less confident
in themselves, they desired nothing more ardently than to behold their
enemy.”[47]
On the 12th, Friere’s corps joined at Leiria, but, under different
pretexts, the Portuguese commander declined co-operating as he had
promised, and limited his assistance to one weak brigade of infantry
and two hundred and fifty horse. Undaunted by this early disclosure
of imbecility and bad faith, Sir Arthur determined to push on, and
endeavour to engage the Duke of Abrantes before he could unite himself
with Loison.
On receiving intelligence of the descent of the English, Junot, adding
the brigade of Thomieres to that of Delaborde,[48] despatched the
latter towards Mondego, to observe the enemy closely, and use every
means to retard their advance. Delaborde, accordingly moving to the
coast, found himself on the eve of an affair with the British--and he
fell back leisurely as they advanced. His rear-guard quitted Caldas the
evening before Sir Arthur entered it; and on the following morning, and
for the first time on the Peninsula, the rival armies of France and
England found themselves in each other’s presence.
On the 15th, a trifling affair of outposts produced a few casualties,--
and on the 16th, Delaborde’s position was reconnoitred and dispositions
made to attack it.
This, in a European command, was to be Wellington’s maiden field. In
the numbers engaged, Rolica bore no proportion to the masses combatant
in future battles--but it was a well-contested and sanguinary
encounter--and worthy to be the name first engraven on the long scroll
of victories of which it gave such glorious promise.
The French position, in natural strength and romantic beauty, was
unequalled; and when Delaborde had made up his mind to risk a battle,
he displayed consummate judgment in selecting the ground on which the
trial of strength should be decided.
The villages of Rolica and Caldas stand at either extremity of an
extensive valley, opening to the west. In the centre Obidos, with its
ruined castle and splendid aqueduct, recalls the days of Moorish glory.
The village of Rolica stands on a bold height, surrounded by vineyards
and olive groves--and a sandy plain extends in front, thickly studded
with shrubs and dwarf wood. The eminence on which the village is
placed, and where the French general formed his line of battle, had
one flank resting on a rugged height, and the other on a mountain
impassable to any but a goat-herd. Behind, lay a number of passes
through the ridges in his rear, affording Delaborde a means of retreat;
or, if he chose to contest them, a formidable succession of mountain
posts.
All the arrangements for attack having been completed on the preceding
evening, at dawn the British got under arms. A sweeter morning never
broke,--the mountain mists dispersed, the sun shone gloriously out,
a thousand birds were singing, and myriads of wild flowers shed their
fragrance around. Nature seemed every where in quiet and repose--
presenting a strange contrast to the roar of battle which immediately
succeeded, and the booming of artillery, as, repeated by a thousand
echoes, it reverberated among the lately peaceful hills.
In three columns, the allied brigades left their bivouacs. The right
(Portuguese), consisting of twelve hundred infantry and fifty dragoons,
were directed to make a considerable detour, turn the enemy’s left
flank, and bear down upon his rear. The left, two brigades of infantry,
three companies of rifles, a brigade of light artillery, and forty
horse, were to ascend the hills of Obidos, drive in Delaborde’s posts,
and turn his right at Rolica. Ferguson, who commanded, was also to
watch lest Loison should move from Rio Mayor, and, if he came up,
engage him, and prevent a junction with Delaborde. The centre, composed
of four brigades,--those of Hill, Crawford, Nightingale, and Fane,--
two brigades of guns, the remainder of the cavalry, and four hundred
caçadores,[49] were directed to advance up the heights and attack the
enemy in front.
To traverse the distance between the British bivouac and French
outposts (three leagues), consumed a good portion of the morning; and
the march to the battle-ground, whether viewed with relevance to the
beauty of its scenery, or the order of its execution, was most imposing.
When sudden irregularities of the surface disturbed the order of a
column, it halted until the distances were corrected, and then marched
silently on with the coolness of a review. Presently the light troops
became engaged, the centre broke into columns of regiments, while
the left pressed forward rapidly, and the rifles, on the right, bore
down on the tirailleurs. Delaborde’s position was now critical, for
Ferguson, topping the heights, threatened his rear. But the French
general acted promptly--he abandoned the plain, and falling back upon
the passes of the Sierra, took up a new position less assailable than
the former one; and, from the difficult nature of the mountain surface,
requiring, on Sir Arthur’s part, a new disposition of attack.
Five separate columns were now formed, and to each a different pass was
allotted. The openings in the heights were so narrow and difficult,
that only a portion of the columns could come into fire. The pass on
the extreme right was attacked by the Portuguese; the light troops of
Hill’s brigade and the 5th regiment advanced against the second; the
centre was to be carried by the 9th and 29th, the fourth by the 45th,
and the fifth by the 82nd.
Unfortunately the front attack was made either too soon, or
difficulties had delayed the flanking corps--and, in consequence, the
passes were all stormed, before Delaborde had been even aware that he
was endangered on his flank and rear. Regardless of the ground, than
which nothing could be more formidable, the assailants mounted the
ravines. Serious obstacles met them at every step--rocks and groves
overhung the gorges in the hills--and where the ground was tolerably
open for a space from rocks, it was covered thickly with brushwood and
wild myrtle. Thus the order of the column was deranged; while a broken
surface concealed the enemy, and suffered the French to keep up a
withering fusilade on troops who had not leisure to return it.
The centre pass, on which the 29th and 9th were directed to advance,
was particularly difficult. The 29th led, and the 9th supported it.
Entering the gorge undauntedly, the leading companies were permitted
to approach a ravine, with precipitous rocks on one side and a thick
myrtle wood on the other. From both a tremendous fire was unexpectedly
opened. In front and on the flanks, the men fell by dozens; and, as the
leading company was annihilated, the column, cumbered by its own dead
and wounded, was completely arrested in its movement. But the check was
only momentary. Colonel Lake, who led the regiment on horseback, waved
his hat and called on the men to follow. A wild cheer was returned,
and a rush made up the pass. Notwithstanding the sustained fusilade on
every side, the forward movement was successful--and after overcoming
every attempt to repel their daring charge, with diminished numbers the
29th crowned the plateau.
But the enemy were not to be easily beaten. Before the 9th could clear
the pass, or the 29th form their line, a French battalion advanced and
charged. They were most gallantly received; a severe contest ensued;
and, after a mutual slaughter, the enemy were repulsed. With increased
numbers, again and again the charges were repeated and repelled. At
last the 9th got into action; and the head of the 5th regiment began to
shew itself as it topped the summit of the second pass. On every point
the attacks had been successful--and to save himself from being cut
off, Delaborde retired in perfect order; and from the difficulty of the
ground and his superiority in cavalry, although pressed by the light
troops, effected his retreat with little molestation.
This brilliant affair, from the strength of their position, and the
obstinacy with which the French contested every inch of ground, cost
the British a heavy loss. Even, when forced from the heights, Delaborde
attempted to take a new position, and hold the village of Zambugeira.
But he was driven back with the loss of three guns--and retreating
through the pass of Runa, by a long night march, he gained Montecheque
next day.
The French casualties in killed, wounded, and prisoners amounted to a
thousand men--and the British to about half that number.[50] Delaborde
was among the wounded--and Colonel Lake in the return of the killed.
As this promising officer was universally regretted, the following
anecdotes of one whom “the officers adored, the soldiers revered, and
there were few who would not have laid down their lives for,” will not
be uninteresting.
When immediately in the presence of the French 82nd, and a combat
seemed inevitable, Lake’s countenance appeared glowing with delight.
At this moment he turned round, calling out, “Gentlemen, display the
colours.” The colours flew, the horse and he had another prance,[51]
when he turned again, and addressed the line:--“Soldiers, I shall
remain in front of you, and remember that the bayonet is the only
weapon for a British soldier.” The French at this instant retired,
and the right of the 29th meeting the road, broke into sections and
followed through the village of Colombeira.
The following is a characteristic anecdote of this lamented officer:
“The evening before the affair of Rolica, there was every reason to
believe the regiment would be among the first troops engaged the
next morning, and there were two bad subjects under sentence of a
court-martial for petty plundering. Colonel Lake, when he formed his
regiment in the evening for the punishment of the two culprits, knew
full well that every man was satisfied they deserved it; but he did
not say that. He spoke to the hearts of his soldiers; he told them he
flogged those men not alone because they deserved it; but that he might
deprive them of the honour of going into action with their comrades in
the morning, and that he might not prevent the guard who was stationed
over them from participating in it. The regiment was in much too high
a state of discipline to admit of a word being said, but they were
repeated all the evening from mouth to mouth; and the poor fellows who
were flogged declared to me that they would willingly on their knees at
his feet, if they dared, have begged, as the greatest favour he could
bestow, to be allowed to run the risk of being shot first, with the
certainty of being flogged afterwards if they escaped.”
Mr. Guthrie thus describes his death:--“A narrow steep ravine seemed
the only accessible part--and up this Lake without further hesitation,
led his grenadiers on horseback. The whole regiment followed with
unexampled devotion and heroism, and gained the summit, but not without
the loss of three hundred men in the desperate conflict, which took
place almost hand to hand in the olive grove half way up the hill.
Broken and overpowered by numbers, Lake fell, and his soldiers would
have been driven down, if the 9th regiment had not rushed up with equal
ardour, led by a no less gallant soldier, Colonel Stewart. The two
regiments formed on the crown of the hill, supported on their right by
the 5th, which had been less opposed, and the French retired, finding
that their right was by this time turned. Colonel Lake, on horseback on
the top of the hill, seemed to have a charmed life. One French officer,
of the name of Bellegarde, said afterwards that he had fired seven
shots at him. Once he seemed to stagger as if he was hit, but it was
only at the seventh shot he fell. It is probable he was right, for he
was wounded in the back of the neck slightly; but the ball which killed
him passed quite through from side to side beneath the arms; I think he
must have fallen dead. The serjeant-major, Richards, seeing his colonel
fall, stood over him, like another Ajax, until he himself fell wounded
in thirteen places by shot and bayonet. I gave him some water in his
dying moments, and his last words were, ‘I should have died happy if
our gallant colonel had been spared’--words that were reiterated by
almost every wounded man.”
Delaborde’s defeat having left the road to Torres Vedras open, Sir
Arthur pursued the French to Villa Verde, where the British halted for
the night--and cheered by his opening success, the English leader
seemed determined to improve it. Orders were accordingly issued to
prepare for a rapid march next day, and “it seemed as if no check
would be given to the ardour of the troops till they should have won a
second victory.” But despatches were received that night, announcing
the arrival of General Anstruther with a reinforcement of troops and
stores. The fleet were reported to be at anchor off Peniche; and, to
cover the disembarkation, and unite himself with the corps on board
the transports, Sir Arthur’s march was directed on Lourinho. There
the British bivouacked that night,--and on the next morning took a
position beside the village of Vimiero.
VIMIERO.
Vimiero.--Interview between the British Generals ends
unsatisfactorily.--Junot unites his brigades, and advances.--
Battle of Vimiero.--Burrard refuses to advance.--Observations.
Vimiero stands at the bottom of a valley, and at the eastern extremity
of a ridge of hills extending westward towards the sea. The river
Maceira flows through it--and on the opposite side, heights rise
eastward, over which winds the mountain road of Lourinho. In front
of the village a plateau of some extent is slightly elevated above
the surrounding surface; but it, in turn, is completely overlooked
by the heights on either side. The British, never anticipating an
attack, had merely taken up ground for the night, and with more
attention to convenience than security. Six brigades occupied the
high ground westward of Vimiero--one battalion, the 50th, with some
rifle companies, were bivouacked on the plateau, having a half brigade
of nines, and a half brigade of six pounders. The eastern heights
were occupied by pickets only, as water could not be procured in the
vicinity--and in the valley, the cavalry and reserve artillery had
taken their ground for the night.
The communication immediately made by Sir Arthur Wellesley to his
senior officer, Sir Harry Burrard, both of the past and the intended
operations, had been unfavourably received--and Sir Harry declined
the daring but judicious step of an immediate advance on Mafra, by
which the position taken by the French on the heights of Torres Vedras
must have been necessarily turned. In fact, to every suggestion of Sir
Arthur he raised continuous objections, and seemed totally opposed to
any forward movement. He pleaded, in apology for inaction, that the
cavalry was weak--the artillery badly horsed; that a march, which
should remove the British from their shipping, would interrupt their
supplies and endanger the army; and the best of the bad reasons which
he gave, was the expected arrival of Sir John Moore with a strong
reinforcement. It was useless in Sir Arthur Wellesley to point out,
as he did, the advantages of an advance, with an assurance, which
proved true, that if they did not, the French would become assailants.
Sir Harry appeared to have formed a stubborn resolution of remaining
quiet that no argument or remonstrance could disturb--and Sir Arthur
Wellesley returned to his camp, convinced that the military incapacity
of his superior officer would, when it paralyzed early success as it
did that of Rolica, entail upon the expedition ulterior disaster and
disgrace. It was otherwise decreed--and the decision of an enemy
wreathed the laurel on Wellesley’s brow, of which the timidity of a
feeble-minded colleague would have robbed him.
Delaborde had executed his orders to check the advance of the British
with a zeal and ability that added greatly to his military reputation.
Junot, in the interim, was actively engaged in concentrating his
brigades, and drawing every disposable man from his garrisons, to
enable him to bring a force to bear against the British, that, from its
superior formation, must ensure success. His whole corps was formed
into two divisions; Delaborde commanding one, and Loison the other--
while the reserve, composed entirely of grenadiers, was entrusted to
Kellerman. All his dispositions having been completed, the Duke of
Abrantes advanced to Vimiero, where he had ascertained that his enemy
was halted.
Sir Arthur was awakened at midnight by a German officer in charge of
the outlying picket, with the intelligence of Junot’s movements, and
an assurance that an attack was certain, as the French advance was not
above a league distant. Patrols were immediately sent out; and while
every care was taken against surprise, the line was not alarmed, nor
the men permitted to be disturbed.
Junot quitted his position on the evening of the 20th, and marched all
night by roads bad in themselves, and interrupted by numerous defiles;
consequently great delay occurred, and it was seven o’clock next
morning, when he arrived within four miles of the British outposts.
The formation of his columns was effected unseen, as the broken
ground behind which he made his dispositions, entirely concealed his
movements. The first intimation of a serious attack was only given,
when a mass of Junot’s cavalry deployed in front of the picket that was
observing the Lourinho road. Perceiving instantly the point on which
the French were about to direct their column, Sir Arthur crossed the
ravine with the brigades of Ferguson, Nightingale, Aucland, and Bowes,
thus securing his weakest point--the left--before Junot had made a
demonstration against it.
Presently the enemy’s columns came on; the right by the Lourinho road,
and left marching on the plateau, occupied by the 50th and rifles.
The onset of both divisions was made with the usual impetuosity of
Frenchmen, and in both the British skirmishers were driven in.
The British right was furiously attacked. Unchecked by the light troops
covering the line, the French came boldly forward, until it found
itself directly in front of the 36th, 40th, and 71st. It deployed
instantly--and several volleys of musketry were mutually returned,
and at a distance so close as to render the effect murderous. But
the fusilade was ended quickly; the 82nd and 29th pushed forward,
and joined their comrades when pressed by an enormous superiority.
“Charge!” was the order; and a cheer, “loud, regular, and appalling,”
announced that England was coming on.
The French stood manfully; but though they waited the onset, they could
not withstand it. They were driven from the field--a vain attempt to
rally, when the 71st and 82nd had flung themselves on the ground to
recover breath, failed--and six guns were taken. The front rank of the
French division was literally annihilated--it lay as it had fallen--
and told with what determination it had stood, and the desperation with
which it had been assaulted.
On the left, the French column having pushed the rifles before it,
advanced upon the 50th formed in line. The regiment was strong,
numbering about nine hundred bayonets, and supported by a half brigade
of guns; and though the French had seven pieces with their column, it
suffered heavily from the British canonnade. The enemy’s advance was
made in close order of half battalions. Sheltered from the fire of the
artillery, the French halted behind a broken hillock, closed up their
ranks, and advanced to the attack. The 50th remained until this moment
with “ordered arms.” With excellent judgment, the colonel, leaving the
left wing of his regiment in line, threw his right into echelons of
companies, and ordered it to form line upon the left. But there was
not time to complete the formation, as the enemy came on, opening a
hot but inefficient fire from its flanks. Part of the right wing of
the 50th bore directly on the angle of the advancing column--and when
within twenty paces, the order was given to fire, and that to “charge!”
succeeded. Broken totally by the close discharge, the angle of the
column forced itself on the centre; all was instantly disorganized, and
the artillery cutting their traces, added to the confusion. The British
pressed on--the French got mobbed--and assisted by part of the 20th
light dragoons, a column five times numerically superior, were for two
miles fairly driven from their ground by one regiment, until they were
relieved by the French cavalry reserve, which came up in a force not to
be resisted.
While these more important operations were repulsed, the town of
Vimiero was attacked by a lesser column (Kellerman’s reserve), that
had flanked the larger, and the 43rd regiment was furiously assailed.
One company occupied the churchyard, another held some houses that
covered the road by which the French attack was made; and the fire of
both was so destructive, that the column was repelled with immense
slaughter. On the extreme left, the 97th and 52nd repulsed Delaborde
with considerable loss; on every point the attack failed, and the field
was won.
No troops fought better than the French--and no battle could have been
more determinately contested. The enemy’s reserve “performed prodigies
of valour, advancing under cross fire of musketry and cannon, and never
giving way until the bayonets of the British troops drove them down the
descent.”[52] But they were routed on every side; and, with relation
to the numbers engaged, the slaughter was terrific. Upwards of three
thousand Frenchmen were killed and wounded, and a number of prisoners
made--while the British loss was computed, in killed, wounded, and
missing, at seven hundred and eighty-three.
One casualty was sincerely deplored. In leading a squadron of the
20th, Lieutenant-colonel Taylor was killed. He had charged the broken
infantry of Kellerman, and committed sad havoc among the _élite_ of the
reserve--when, surrounded by a whole brigade of French cavalry, he
fell in the _mêlée_, shot through the heart.
Sir Harry Burrard landed after the battle commenced, but very prudently
left the termination of the contest in his hands by whom the first
dispositions had been made. Sir Harry was not in time to assist in the
victory--but he had ample leisure to mar its results. Wellesley urged
that this was the moment to advance, push on to Torres Vedras, place
Junot between two fires, and oblige him to begin a retreat of immense
difficulty by Alenquer and Villa Franca. All was admirably prepared for
the movement. The supply of ammunition was sufficient, provisions were
abundant, and the troops in high courage and superb discipline. The
French, on the contrary, were depressed by an unexpected defeat; and,
greatly disorganized and wearied by long marches, were certain of being
materially inconvenienced by an immediate advance of the British.
But Sir Harry was immoveable. He had made his mind up to await the
arrival of Sir John Moore before he should advance a step from Vimiero.
A victory had been gained--a complete and brilliant victory. But
what was that to him? “The cavalry,” he said, “were certainly not
strengthened, nor the artillery horses improved, by the exertions they
had undergone.” Stop he would--and Junot was permitted to return
without annoyance; and the British, who should have never halted until
they had reached Lisbon, rested on the ground they won.
Is it not inconceivable, that Britain should have consigned her armies
to the leading of antiquated tacticians, bigoted in old-world notions,
and who would scarcely venture beyond a second bridge, without spending
half the day in reconnoitring? But such things were--and the energies
of the first military people in the world were paralyzed for half a
century, by commands being entrusted to men, who, in cases of ordinary
embarrassment, would have been found incompetent to extricate a
regiment from a difficulty. But such things were!
CAMPAIGN OF SIR JOHN MOORE.
Burrard succeeded by Dalrymple.--Sir Arthur Wellesley returns
home.--British army reinforced.--Sir John Moore appointed to the
command in chief--Assembles his army at Villa Vicosa--Advances.--
Spanish armies defeated.--Fall of Madrid.--Prepares to attack
Soult.--Affair of Sahagun.--Retreat commences.--Narrative of its
occurrences.--Battle of Corunna.--Death and character of Sir John
Moore.--Troops return to England.
A period of inaction succeeded the victory at Vimiero. Burrard was
superseded in his command by Sir Hew Dalrymple--and the convention
of Cintra perfected, by which an army was restored to France, that,
had Sir Arthur Wellesley’s advice been attended to, must have been
eventually destroyed, or driven into such extremity as should have
produced an unconditional surrender. Other articles in this disgraceful
treaty, recognised a full exercise of rights of conquest to the
French--secured to them the enormous plunder their rapacity had
accumulated--and granted an amnesty to every traitor who had abandoned
his country, and aided the invaders in effecting its subjugation. No
wonder that this precious convention occasioned in England a universal
feeling of disgust. No wonder that blood spilled in vain, and treasure
uselessly wasted,[53] roused popular indignation to a pitch of
excitement which no occurrence in modern history can parallel.
The particulars of the treaty of Cintra, immediately on being known
in England, occasioned the recall of Sir Hew Dalrymple; while under
the plea of ill health, his colleague, Sir Harry Burrard, resigned and
returned home. What a different result the Portuguese campaign would
have exhibited, had these two old gentlemen been left in a district
command, and not been allowed to check a career of victory which opened
with such glorious promise!
Sir Arthur Wellesley had already returned to England, and many officers
of all ranks followed his example. The command of the army devolved on
Sir John Moore, a man most deservedly respected by the country, and
popular with his soldiers.
Meanwhile, the general indication of national resistance to French
oppression on the part of the Spaniards, encouraged hopes that if
assisted by England, the independence of the Peninsula might be
restored. This was a consideration worthy of a statesman’s serious
regard in both France and Britain--for the thraldom or independence
of Spain was an object of vital importance. As to what might be
expected from the Spaniards themselves in any attempt made for their
own liberation, their invaders and their allies seemed to have formed
an erroneous estimate--the English overrating the importance of
their exertions in the field, as much as the French undervalued that
patriotic impulse, which had wakened up the slumbering spirit of
the people. The British cabinet, however, determined to foster this
national feeling--and by munificent supplies, and the presence of
an English army, stimulate the Spanish people to assert their lost
liberty, and fling off a yoke no longer tolerable. For this purpose,
a force of twenty thousand men was directed to be assembled at
Valladolid--and a reinforcement of thirteen thousand, under Sir David
Baird, was despatched from England to join them--the whole were to be
placed under the orders of Sir John Moore.
Although Sir David’s corps was landed by the middle of October,
the army of Lisbon was not in a condition to move until the end of
the month--and then, under a false belief that the direct rout to
Salamanca was impracticable for the passage of artillery, the batteries
and cavalry, with a protecting brigade of three thousand infantry, were
moved by Badajoz and the Escurial, entailing on them an additional
march of upwards of one hundred and fifty miles. Worse still, a delay
in commencing operations was unavoidable, and that was attended with
the worst results.
The whole of Sir John Hope’s corps having been at last collected, and
the cavalry assembled at Villa Vicosa, the order to move forward was
given. On the 5th of November, Sir John Moore was at Atalia, on the
8th he reached Almeida, and on the 11th his advanced guard crossed the
rivulet that divides Spain from Portugal, and entered Ciudad Rodrigo.
At San Martin he slept in the house of the curé--and occupied the same
bed that had the former year been assigned to Junot and Loison on their
respective marches--and on the 13th he entered Salamanca.
There, disastrous news awaited him--for one of his supporting armies
was already _hors de combat_. Count Belvidere, having made an absurd
movement on Burgos, was attacked by a superior force, and his raw
levies completely routed; while previously, Blake’s army had been
utterly dispersed, and the magazines at Reynosa taken. To add to this
mass of evil tidings, intelligence arrived that the fall of Madrid
might be confidently expected,--while, instead of his advance into
Spain being covered with an army of seventy thousand men, Moore found
himself in an open town without a gun, without a Spanish picket, with
only three infantry brigades, and the French outposts but three marches
distant.
Madrid fell--the news could not be credited--and it was asserted
that, though the Retiro was taken, the town held obstinately out.
The inaction of the British was generally censured; the envoy had
remonstrated on the subject; and the army did not conceal their
impatience. Influenced by these considerations, Moore determined to
make a diversion on the capital, and attack Soult, who was at Saldanha,
on the Carion. A forward movement followed--Baird was directed to
march from Astorga, and Romana was informed of the intended operation,
and requested to assist.
This decision of attacking Soult was known to the army, and gave
general satisfaction.[54] On the 16th, head-quarters were at Toro--
and passing Villapondo and Valderosa, on the 20th Sir John reached
Majorga, and was joined by Baird’s division, making an united force
of twenty-three thousand five hundred infantry, two thousand four
hundred cavalry, and, including a brigade of three-pounders--from its
small calibre perfectly useless,--an artillery of nearly fifty guns.
Soult’s corps amounted to sixteen thousand infantry and twelve hundred
dragoons. The great portion of the former were at Saldanha--and
Debelle’s cavalry at Sahagun.
While thus advancing, the brilliant affair between Lord Paget and the
French cavalry shed a passing glory on a series of operations, whose
results were generally so calamitous. We shall give the affair in the
words of the noble colonel of the 10th Hussars, than whom, on that
occasion, no one “by daring deed” more effectually contributed to
victory.
“The Monastero Melgar Abaxo is distant about three leagues from
Sahagun, in which place a corps of seven hundred French cavalry were
reported to be lodged. As they were at some distance from the main body
of the French army, it was deemed practicable to cut them off, and Lord
Paget determined, at all events, to make the attempt. He accordingly
put himself at the head of the 10th and 15th Hussars, and in the
middle of a cold wintry night, when the direct rout to Salamanca was
impracticable, for the ground was covered with snow, set off for that
purpose.
“When they had ridden about two-thirds of the way, Lord Paget divided
his force, and desiring General Slade, with the 10th, to pursue the
course of the Cea, and to enter the town by that side, he himself,
followed by the 15th, wheeled off to approach it by a different route.
It was not long before his lordship’s party fell in with a picket
of the enemy; and all, except one man, were either cut down or made
prisoners. But the escape of one was as injurious, under existing
circumstances, as the escape of the whole; for the alarm was given,
and before the 15th could reach the place, the enemy were ready to
receive them. It was now broad daylight, and as our troops drew near,
the French were soon formed in what appeared to be an open plain, at
no great distance from the town. The 15th were wheeled into line in a
moment, and as there was no time to be lost, they followed their leader
at a brisk trot, with the intention of charging; but when they were yet
fifty yards from the enemy, they found that a wide ditch divided them,
and that the French had availed themselves of other inequalities in the
ground, of which, when some way off, they had not been aware. A pause
was now necessarily made, but one instant served to put the whole again
in motion. The regiment, wheeling to its left, soon found a convenient
place for crossing; and though the enemy manœuvred actively to hinder
the formation, they were again in line, and advancing to the charge,
within five minutes from the commencement of the check. A few changes
of ground now took place, as each corps strove to gain the flank of
the other, but they were only a few. The British cavalry effected its
object--and then coming down at full speed upon their opponents, who
stood to receive the shock, they overthrew them in an instant. Many
were killed upon the spot, many more unhorsed, and one hundred and
fifty-seven were made prisoners, including two lieutenant-colonels. On
this occasion the English cavalry amounted only to four hundred men,
whilst that of the French fell not short of seven hundred.”
The weather continued bad; the troops were a good deal knocked up by
forced marching, and Sir John halted on the 22nd and 23rd for supplies,
intending by a night march to reach the Carion, and attack Soult on the
morrow. Every account made the British numerically greater than the
enemy--and though the French had been reinforced, still Moore’s army
was stronger by fully five thousand men.
All dispositions were made for the intended attack. At eight at night,
the army were to move in two columns--and the right, which was to
force the bridge and penetrate to Saldanha, was actually getting
under arms, when couriers arrived “loaded with heavy tidings.” The
French were moving in all directions to cut the English off;[55] the
corps which had been marching south, was suddenly halted at Talavera;
two strong divisions were moving from Placentia; the Badajoz army
was in full march on Salamanca--and Napoleon himself in the field,
determined, as it was reported, to “sweep the British before him to the
ocean.”
This was, in truth, disastrous intelligence. The orders to advance were
countermanded instantly--the troops, who had already been mustering,
were retired to their quarters, and the object of the expedition
seemed virtually ended. The campaign was indeed a tissue of mistakes--
“operating with feeble allies, acting on false information, advancing
to-day, retiring to-morrow, with every thing to harass and nothing
to excite the soldier, until at last, the ill-fated and ill-planned
expedition terminated in a ruinous retreat.”[56]
In making preparations for a rapid march before an enemy, that from
report was overwhelming if not avoided, the 23rd of December was
consumed, and the general plan for regressive operations was arranged
by instantly retreating on Gallicia.
To pass the Esla, three routs were open,--one by the bridge of
Mansilla, a second by the ferry of Valencia, and a third by the bridge
of Castro Gonsalo, over which the great road to Benevente leads.
Mansilla was occupied and exhausted by the Spanish army, and the roads
of Valencia and Gonsalo afforded the best retreat. A double means of
retirement would expedite the movements--and neither the magazines at
Lamora nor Benevente would be left to the French. Astorga was named the
point of union, as there, if pressed, battle could be offered. Romana
was requested to move upon Leon--after holding, to the last extremity,
the bridge of Mansilla.
All arrangements being completed, Moore commenced retreating on the
24th. Hope’s division fell back on Castro Gonzalo, and Baird’s on
Valencia; while cavalry patrols were pushed forward on the Carion,
with orders to retire at nightfall of the 25th, giving the reserve and
light infantry, which formed the rear-guard, a start of some three or
four hours in advance. All was admirably executed--and the columns,
unmolested, reached their respective destinations.
The retreat continued, marked by some occasional affairs between the
cavalry of the advanced and rear-guard, which terminated invariably in
favour of the latter. The hussar regiments behaved most nobly--and
on every occasion, regardless of numbers, or the more discouraging
movements of a retreat, they sought the combat, and always came off the
conquerors.
The infantry already began to experience the annoyance of long marches,
severe weather, and a very indifferent commissariate. To march over
cut-up roads, and through an exhausted country, where no friendly
place of strength protects, no well-supplied magazine refreshes, soon
harasses the over-loaded soldier. But that, when accomplished in the
dead of winter,--in cold and darkness, sleet and rain,--was enough to
have subdued the spirit of any army but a British one, retiring under
every privation, and with seventy thousand veteran troops marching on
their flanks and rear.
The army reached Benevente on the 27th--and the crossing of
the Esla,[57] though exceedingly troublesome, was effected with
inconsiderable loss. The roads were wretched, the weather bad, and
the French pursuit marked by the fiery character of their emperor. He
crossed[58] the Carpenteras, regardless of obstacles that would have
discouraged the boldest--and, in a hurricane of sleet and hail, passed
his army over the Guadarama, by a rout declared impracticable even to a
mountain peasant.
This bold operation, worthy of the conqueror of Italy, was followed
up by an immediate advance. On the 26th the main body of the British
continued retreating on Astorga,--the bridge across the Esla was
destroyed--and the night of the 27th passed over in tolerable quiet.
In the morning, however, the French were seen actively employed. Five
hundred cavalry of the guard tried for the ford above the ruined
bridge, found it, and passed over. The pickets forming the rear-guard
at once confronted them,--and, led on by Colonel Otway, charged
repeatedly, and checked the leading squadron. General Stuart put
himself at the head of the pickets, while Lord Anglesea rode back to
bring up the 10th. Charges were made on both sides; the pickets gave
ground--the French advanced, but the 10th were speedily at hand, and
came forward. The pickets rallied,--they cheered and cut boldly in at
speed--the French were overthrown and driven across the river, with
the loss of their Colonel (Le Fevre), and seventy officers and men.
This brilliant encounter had the results that boldness wins. The French
kept a respectful distance, and thus, the column was enabled to gain
Astorga without further molestation.
But the danger was momently increasing. From prisoners taken in the
cavalry affair on the Esla, it was ascertained that, on the preceding
evening, the head-quarters of Napoleon’s own corps were but sixteen
miles from the bivouacs of the British--and to reach Villa Franca
before the French was imperatively necessary. On that event how
much depended,--for on the possession of that road, in a great
degree, would rest the safety or destruction of the British, as it
opens through a defile into a country that for miles renders cavalry
movements impracticable, and entirely protects the flanks of a retiring
army.
It is astonishing how quickly a retreat in bad weather destroys the
_morale_ of the best army. The British divisions had marched from
Sabugal on the 24th in the highest order; on the 30th, on reaching
Astorga, their disorganization had commenced--they seemed a mob
flying from a victorious enemy, and General Moore himself exhibited
a despondency that was apparent to all around him. “That he was an
officer of great distinction every one acknowledged during his life,
and posterity will never deny it; but it was too manifest that a fear
of responsibility, a dread of doing that which was wrong, of running
himself and his troops into difficulties from which they might not be
able to extricate themselves, were a great deal too active to permit
either his talents or his judgment properly to exert their influence.
Sir John Moore had earned the highest reputation as a general of
division; he was aware of this, and perhaps felt no inclination to
risk it; at all events he was clearly incapable of despising partial
obstacles in the pursuit of some great ultimate advantage;--in one
word, he was not a Wellington. Of this no more convincing proof need be
given than the fact that, even at the moment when the preparations for
the brief advance were going on, his whole heart and soul seemed turned
towards the Portuguese frontier.”[59]
Romana had unfortunately given up the Leon rout, and marching on
Astorga, encumbering the roads with the ruins of his baggage, and worse
still, filling the villages he passed through with crowds of ragged
followers unable to get on--some from absolute decrepitude and want,
and more from being attacked by fever of the worst type.
The retreat was renewed next morning--and the marching continued with
such constancy that, by abandoning the sick and wounded, wasting the
ammunition, and destroying the stores, the British outstripped pursuit,
and on the 3rd of January found themselves in comparative safety. The
cavalry, as usual, distinguished themselves; and at Cacabelos, where
the rear-guard was overtaken, behaving with their customary _esprit_,
they repelled the advance of the French hussars, and prevented the
light troops from being surrounded and cut off. Indeed the escape of
the rifles was wonderful. They were retreating through the town, and
part of the rear-guard had already crossed the bridge, when the French
cavalry came suddenly on in overwhelming force, and galloping into the
rear companies of the 95th, succeeded in making some prisoners. The
rifles instantly broke into skirmishing order, and commenced retiring
up the hill, when a body of voltigeurs rushed to the support of the
cavalry, and the affair became serious. The 95th, however, had now
thrown themselves into the vineyards behind the town, and kept up a
rapid and well-directed fire. The French attempted to get in their
rear, and charged boldly up the road, led on by General Colbert. But
the fusilade from the vineyard, was maintained with such precision that
the French were driven back, leaving a number of dead on the field,
among whom their brave and daring leader was included.
Sir John was also threatened with attack at Villa Franca. A strong
column of infantry appeared on the heights, in full march on that
division which was in position on the opposite hill. The artillery
opened, and an engagement appeared inevitable. But checked by the
cannonade, the forward movement of the French was arrested; and Sir
John, anxious to reach the better position of Lugo, continued his
retreat, and prudently avoided coming to a general action, where the
ground had no military advantage to induce him to risk a combat. The
main body marched to Herrieras, the reserve to Villa Franca, and the
rear-guard moved at ten o’clock, and reached its bivouac at midnight.
The cavalry, no longer serviceable in a country rough, hilly, and
wooded, with numerous enclosures around vineyards and plantations
of mulberry trees, were sent on to Lugo; the infantry and artillery
marching for the same place. During the whole day and night that
distressing movement was executed--and forty miles were passed over
roads on every side broken up, and in places, knee-deep. Never will
that dreadful march be forgotten by those who witnessed it.[60] The
men dropped down by whole sections on the wayside and died--some
with curses, some with the voice of prayer in their mouths--while
women and children--of whom an immense number had injudiciously
been allowed to accompany the army--shared a similar fate. Horrible
scenes momentarily occurred,--children frozen in their mothers’ arms,
women taken in labour, and, of course, perishing with their ill-fated
progeny. Some were trying by the madness of intoxication to stimulate
their worn-out frames to fresh exertion--or, when totally exhausted,
to stupify the agonies of the slow but certain death that cold and
hunger must inevitably produce before another sun dawned. It was awful
to observe the different modes, when abandoned to die, in which the
miserable wretches met their fate. Some lay down in sullen composure--
others vented their despair in oaths, and groans, and curses--and not
a few in heart-rending prayers to heaven that the duration of their
sufferings might be abridged.
From an early period of the retreat, the discipline of the troops
was shaken by rapid movements and an absence of regular supplies.
Hence, the men were obliged to shift as they best could,--and this
laxity in discipline gradually increasing, ended in frequent scenes of
drunkenness, rioting, and robbery. Every town and village was sacked
in search of food, the wine stores plundered, and the casks, in mere
wantonness, broken and spilled. Nothing could check the licentious
spirit of the troops; and when a man was hanged at Benivedre, even that
sad example had not the least effect, for many of the marauders were
detected in the act of plundering within sight of the fatal tree.
During this distressing movement, the French had pressed the British
rear-guard closely, and a constant scene of skirmishing ensued. Though
invariably checked by the light troops, still the army was hourly
becoming less effective--every league reducing it both in numbers
and resources. Quantities of arms and necessaries were abandoned or
destroyed; and two bullock carts loaded with dollars were thrown over
a precipice into the bed of a mountain torrent.[61] All these things
proved how desperately reduced that once fine and well-appointed army
had become. Indeed its appearance was rather that of a procession of
maimed invalids with a caravan of sick soldiers, than an army operating
in front of a determined enemy, and expecting momently to come to
action.
It was a matter of surprise to all, that the French leader did not
force on an engagement; but, on the contrary, Soult followed this
half-ruined army with a caution that appeared unaccountable and
unnecessary. Still the moment of attack could not be distant; and it
was certain that the Marshal only waited for some embarrassment in the
march, to throw his leading divisions on the retreating brigades of
England, and force on a decisive battle.
This event was particularly to be dreaded while passing the bridge and
village of Constantino. A long and difficult mountain road leads to the
summit of a bold height, down which it winds again by a gradual descent
till it meets the bridge. The occupation of this height, before the
columns had passed the river, would expose them to a heavy fire; and
Sir John Moore determined to check the French pursuit, and hold the
hill, until the rear of the main division had cleared the bridge and
village. His dispositions were quickly made,--the 28th regiment with
the rifle corps were drawn up beside the river--and the 20th, 52nd,
and 91st on a hill immediately in their rear, flanked by the horse
artillery.
The French attacked with their usual spirit. The cavalry and
tirailleurs advanced against the bridge; but the fire from the British
riflemen, assisted by the guns on the height, drove them back with
loss. A second and a third attack, made with equal boldness, ended in
a similar result--and darkness put a stop to the fighting. The French
withdrew their light troops, the British continued their retreat, and
before morning broke the rear-guard joined the army, now bivouacked in
position, or cantoned in and around the town of Lugo.
“The concentration of so many troops at this wretched place produced a
scene of hurry and confusion with which the distant cannonade at the
bridge of Constantino seemed in perfect keeping.
“On one side was to be seen the soldier of every rank who had secured a
habitation to shelter him, but whom duty or inclination occasioned to
wander through the crowds of people, and deeply mudded streets of the
town; on the other, the disconsolate person that made his appearance
after the Alcalde’s ingenuity had been stretched to the uttermost in
procuring quarters for the troops already arrived, and whose _personal
friends_ had been subjected to the unusual order for admitting
strangers. The pitiableness of his case was either to be discovered by
a resigned and woeful visage, or by certain ebullitions of temper,
destined to waste themselves in the desert air. Next were to be seen
the conductors of baggage, toiling through the streets, their laden
mules almost sinking under the weight of ill-arranged burdens swinging
from side to side, while the persons in whose charge they had followed
the divisions appeared undecided which to execrate most, the roads, the
mules, the Spaniards, or the weather. These were succeeded by the dull,
heavy sound of the passing artillery; then came the Spanish fugitives
from the desolating line of the armies. Detachments with sick or lamed
horses scrambled through the mud, while, at intervals, the report of
a horse-pistol knelled the termination to the sufferings of an animal
that a few days previously, full of life and high in blood, had borne
its rider not against, but over, the ranks of Gallic chivalry. The
effect of this scene was rendered more striking by the distant report
of cannon and musketry, and more gloomy by torrents of rain, and a
degree of cold worthy of a Polish winter.”[62]
Preparations were made for a battle, and Sir John Moore seemed
determined to retreat no further. Notwithstanding the British were
suffering from cold, and wet, and hunger, they fell into their position
with alacrity. The Minho protected their right, and a ravine separated
them from the French, who, already in force, occupied the heights, and
were evidently preparing for an immediate effort.
On the 6th the French deployed upon the heights, and the British stood
to their arms. Some hours passed; each line looked at the other, as if
waiting for its opening movement. The day passed,--and at night the
hostile armies occupied the same bivouacs, on which their brigades had
rested the preceding evening.
The 7th came: with the first dawn, as if to make up for its previous
inactivity, the French guns opened. Their battery was but weak, and
the fire of the British artillery silenced it. A pause ensued,--the
day wore on--the evening was closing,--when a column of considerable
strength, covered by a cloud of tirailleurs, steadily mounted the hill,
driving in the pickets and a wing of the 76th. The 51st was instantly
moved to its assistance, musketry was interchanged, a bayonet rush
succeeded, the French were driven down the hill, and operations
terminated.
“Darkness came on,--a wild and stormy night,--a lonely hill,--no
fire, no food,--such was the bivouac of Lugo;--such the wretched and
cheerless situation of the harassed but unconquerable islanders.
“As the morning of the 8th dawned, the British formed line, and
prepared coolly for the expected encounter; but it passed over, and the
enemy made no hostile movement. The troops had been ordered to bivouac
as they best could--and in a short time a number of rude huts were
erected to defend them from the inclemency of the coming night. But
it was not intended to remain longer before Lugo. When darkness hid
their retreat, the British filed off silently by the rear. Through a
frightful storm of hail and wind, their march was bravely executed; and
leaving Lugo and Valmela behind them, they halted at Betanzos on the
10th.”[63]
Here the exhausted soldiery were halted from sheer necessity. They were
literally marched to a stand-still,--and, although the rain fell in
torrents, they lay down upon the soaked earth, and in that comfortless
situation remained until at evening the ranks were again formed, and
the retreat continued on Corunna, where Sir John had now decided on
embarking the ruins of his army.
Fortunately for the wearied troops, the French, deceived by the fires
left burning when the British commenced their night march from Lugo,
did not discover the movement until daylight, and thus twelve hours
were gained on the pursuers. This lost time could not be recovered; and
although the whole of the 10th was passed in Betanzos,[64] to allow
stragglers to rejoin their regiments, no serious attempt was made to
embarrass the remainder of the march, and the leading division reached
Corunna at noon of the 11th, while the reserve occupied the adjoining
villages, and the remaining brigades took up their quarters in the
suburbs.
Corunna afforded a very indifferent position to offer battle on. There
was one, but its extent made it untenable by an army so weak in number
as the British. After a close examination, the rising ground above the
village of Elvina, a mile in front of the town, was the place selected
by the general; the position was accordingly marked out, and the
brigades moved to their allotted posts.
A ridge commanded the Betanzos road and formed the left of the line,
and on this General Hope’s division was placed. Sir David Baird’s
was next in station, and occupied a succession of knolls that swept
inwards, and inclined to a valley beyond the Vigo road. Over the low
grounds the rifle corps were extended, appuied upon Frazer’s division,
which, placed in echellon, covered the principal approach to Corunna.
Paget’s division was in reserve behind Hope’s, and occupied a village
half a mile in the rear.
The enemy appeared beyond the Mero while these dispositions were being
made; but, with the exception of a partial cannonade, no hostile
demonstration occurred. On the 14th, the artillery had ceased on
both sides--an unusual quiet ensued,--and nothing seemed likely to
produce any immediate excitement, when the explosion of four thousand
barrels of gunpowder burst upon the astonished ear. It is impossible to
describe the effect.[65] The unexpected and tremendous crash seemed for
the moment to have deprived every person of reason and recollection;
“the soldiers flew to their arms, nor was it until a tremendous column
of smoke, ascending from the heights in front, marked from whence
the astounding shock proceeded, that reason resumed its sway. It is
impossible ever to forget the sublime appearance of the dark dense
cloud of smoke that ascended, shooting up gradually like a gigantic
tower into the clear blue sky. It appeared fettered in one enormous
mass; nor did a particle of dust or vapour, obscuring its form, seem to
escape as it rolled upwards in majestic circles.”[66]
On the 15th the fleet hove in sight, and immediate preparations were
made to effect an embarkation of the army. The women and children, with
the sick and wounded, were directly carried on board; a large portion
of the artillery and stores was sent afterwards; and the cavalry, after
destroying the few horses that still remained, were embarked. None but
the infantry, and of these such only as were effective, were now left;
and the belief was general, that they too, would be permitted to retire
from their position unmolested.
Every thing on the 16th continued quiet. The boats pulled from the
shipping to the beach, and orders were issued for the divisions to move
down, and prepare for immediate embarkation; Sir John Moore was on
horseback to visit the outposts, for the last time, before they should
be withdrawn, when an officer came up hastily, and announced that the
French were under arms. The intelligence was correct; for an instant
fusilade commenced between their tirailleurs and the English pickets,
as their light troops pushed forward, covering the advance of four
compact columns. Two directed their march upon the right, one moved
upon the centre, while the fourth threatened the left of the English
line.
The right, consisting of the 4th, 42nd, and 50th, supported by the
guards, were fiercely attacked, and the reserve ordered to sustain
it. The French threw out a cloud of skirmishers, supported by the
fire of eleven pieces of artillery,--and driving the advanced posts
before them, came forward with their customary boldness. On deploying
partially, their line extended considerably beyond the extreme right
of the British, but this was disregarded, and instead of waiting the
attack, the regiments gallantly advanced to meet it. The 4th suddenly
refusing its right wing, shewed a double front,--and unawed by a
superior enemy, undaunted by a heavy and well-directed cannonade, the
manœuvre of this splendid regiment was executed with all the coolness
and precision of a parade.
For a time the irregularity of ground intersected by numerous
enclosures, kept the combatants apart; but these were speedily
surmounted, and the French assault was made and repelled--and the
village of Elvina, which had for a few minutes been in possession of
the enemy, was recovered by the 50th with the bayonet.[67]
The action was now general along the line. The 42nd, and a battalion of
the Guards, by a brilliant charge drove back the French; and, failing
to force, Soult endeavoured to turn the British right, and accordingly
marched a column in its rear. That, the reserve attacked, and repulsed
it with heavy loss. In every point Soult’s attacks failed--and,
altering his dispositions, he took ground considerably to the right.
While the 42nd were lowering their bayonets, and Sir John Moore was
encouraging the charge, a round shot knocked him from his horse,
shattering his left arm at the shoulder--while immediately before,
Sir David Baird had been wounded and removed. But the fall of their
generals produced no serious results. Corunna was not a battle
of manœuvre, but a field of determined resistance. The officers
commanding the different battalions fought their regiments gallantly;
the dispositions for the engagement were simple and understood; the
attempts upon the left and centre were repulsed; and the French, beaten
on every point, fell back as night came on.
Thus ended the conflict of Corunna;--and when every disadvantage is
taken into consideration under which the British fought, its results
were glorious, and the courage and coolness displayed throughout most
honourable to the troops employed. The numbers engaged were certainly
in favour of the French. Without its light brigade, which had retreated
and embarked at Vigo, the British divisions scarcely reached to fifteen
thousand; while Soult was reinforced in the morning, and mustered from
eighteen to twenty thousand men. The loss on both sides was severe;
that of the British amounting to eight hundred killed and wounded,
while the French admitted theirs to be at least double that number.
Yet it was but a melancholy triumph. The sad reverses of the retreat,
the abandonment of the country, and the death of a brave and beloved
commander, clouded the hour of conquest, and threw a depressing gloom
around, that seemed fitter to mark a defeat than attend a well-won
victory. No further attempt was made by the enemy--the brigades were
removed after dark,--the embarkation continued[68]--and on the
afternoon of the 17th, the whole fleet was under weigh, steering for
England with a leading wind.
The severity of a wound like Sir John Moore’s, precluded, from the
first moment it was received, all hope of his surviving beyond an hour
or two. The arm was torn nearly from the shoulder, and the collar-bone
partially carried away; but, notwithstanding the desperate hemorrhage
that ensued, the sufferer preserved his recollection, and remained in
mental possession to the last.
He was carried from the field in a blanket by six soldiers, who evinced
their sympathy by tears; and when a spring waggon came up, and it was
proposed that Sir John should be transferred to it, the poor fellows
respectfully objected, “as they would keep step, and carry him more
easily.” Their wishes were attended to--and the dying general was
conveyed slowly to his quarters in the town, occasionally stopping
the bearers to look back upon the field, whenever an increasing fire
arrested his attention. All hope was over--he lingered for a little,
talking feebly, but collectedly, to those around, and dividing his
last thoughts apparently, between his country and his kindred. The
kindliness of his disposition was in death remarkable. Turning to an
aid-de-camp, he desired to be remembered to his sister--and feebly
pressing Colonel Anderson’s hand, his head dropped back, and he died
without a struggle.
As a wish had been expressed by the departed, that he should be laid
in the field on which he fell, the rampart of the citadel was happily
chosen for his “resting place.” A working party of the 9th turned up
the earth--and at midnight, wrapped in a cloak and blanket, his
uncoffined remains were interred by the officers of his staff--the
burial-service was read by torch-light,--earth fell on kindred clay,--
the grave was filled,--and, in the poet’s words, “They left him alone
with his glory.”[69]
The benefits derived to an army from the example of a distinguished
commander, do not terminate at his death; his virtues live in the
recollections of his associates, and his fame remains the strongest
incentive to great and glorious actions.[70] In Sir John Moore this was
pointedly true; for in public and private life none was more amiable--
none, certainly, more exemplary. But, speaking professionally, one
is at this day, astonished at the different estimates then formed of
his qualifications as a general. Nearly forty years have elapsed, and
time best determines the abilities of men--popular clamour, whether
favourable or unfriendly, loses its temporary influence--and the
merits or defects of departed greatness can, at an after period, be
dispassionately examined and adjudged.
[Illustration:
_Sir T. Lawrence._
_H. Cook._
John Moore]
In every private relation, Sir John Moore’s character was perfect--
and his professional career had always been distinguished. Of no man
had higher hopes been formed--and hence, probably, more was expected
by his country, than either his means or his talents could effect. By
one party he was unjustly censured--by another injudiciously praised;
and in this ferment of opinion, it is difficult to say whether his
military reputation was most endangered by the obloquy of his enemies
or the over-praise of his friends.
Sir John Moore was a brave, high-minded, and accomplished soldier;
understood the details of his profession, and laboured assiduously[71]
to carry them into operation. He was an excellent commander _en
second_,--but he never could handle masses of men, like Napoleon
or Wellington--grapple with difficulties when they unexpectedly
occurred--and, when apparently on the verge of defeat, change, by his
own resources, the fortunes of a field, and turn an unpromising morning
into an evening of victory. For this he was constitutionally unfitted.
He laboured under an excessive sensibility that embarrassed his
decisions. A fever of the mind, which robs the judgment of its energy,
was frequently apparent; and sentiments and language will be found in
every portion of his correspondence,[72] which, while they indicate
an amiable disposition, are sadly out of keeping with that stern
sufficiency of thought, that should mark the unhesitating character
of a commander. Moore wanted confidence in himself; he was afraid of
responsibility; he underrated the qualities of his own troops, and
greatly overrated those of his adversary. Yet, let justice be done.
He acted under circumstances at once difficult and trying; and he was
harassed in being made, in some degree, dependent upon the opinions
of others. Lord Londonderry, who does ample justice to the memory of
Moore, says, “The British army has produced some abler men; and many,
in point of military talent, were and are quite his equals; but it
cannot, and perhaps never could, boast of one more beloved, not by his
personal friends alone, but by every individual that served under him.”
CONNECTING CHAPTER.
Consequences of the embarkation.--Wretched position of Spanish
affairs.--State of Portugal.--Memoir of the Guerillas.
The immediate consequence of the embarkation, was the surrender of
Corunna on the second day from that on which the once proud army of
England quitted the coast of Spain. Ferrol soon followed the example--
and in both these places, an immense supply of stores and ammunition
was obtained. All effective resistance was apparently at an end--and
French dominion seemed established in Gallicia more strongly than it
had ever been before.
In every part of Spain, the cause of freedom appeared hopeless. One
campaign was closed, and never did one end more hopelessly;[73]--an
unvarying scene of misfortune from the commencement, it seemed to have
withered every national feeling that might have existed in Spanish
breasts. Fortresses that should have held out, provisioned, garrisoned,
and open to receive supplies from England, surrendered to a weak
army, who could not command “a battering gun or siege store within
four hundred miles.” In fact, Spanish resistance seemed a mockery.
Their military force was now the ruins of Romana’s army, and some
half-starved fugitives who occasionally appeared in Estremadura and
La Mancha,--while the French had nearly two hundred thousand veteran
troops covering the whole country,--and these too in masses, that set
any hostile demonstration at defiance.
Portugal, in its military footing, was nearly on a par with Spain.
A British corps, under Sir John Craddock, garrisoned Lisbon--and,
that place excepted, there were no troops in the kingdom on which
the slightest dependence could be placed. The appointment of Marshal
Beresford to a chief command, produced in time a wonderful reformation.
The English system of drill was successfully introduced,--and, before
the war ended, the Portuguese, when brigaded with the British, were
always respectable in the field, and sometimes absolutely brilliant.
At this period, there was but one national force in the least degree
formidable to the invaders--and that was the Spanish Guerillas.
The Spanish armies in the course of the Peninsular campaign had met
so many and discouraging defeats, that their military reputation sunk
below the standard of mediocrity. They were despised by their enemies,
and distrusted by their allies, and whether from the imbecility of
the government, the ignorance of their leaders, or some national
peculiarity, their inefficiency became so notorious, that no important
operation could be entrusted to them with any certainty of its being
successful. As an organized force, the Spanish army was contemptible;
while, in desultory warfare, the peasantry were invaluable. With few
exceptions, the history of Spanish service would be a mere detail of
presumption and defeat; while their neighbours, the Portuguese, merited
the perfect approbation of their officers, and proved worthy of
standing in the battle-field by the side of British soldiers.
The irregular bands, termed Partidas and Quadrillas, partly formed from
peasant volunteers and smugglers, and enlisted and paid by government,
were embodied originally by order of the Central Junta. At first
their numbers were few, and their efficiency as military partisans
not very remarkable--but as the Spanish armies declined in strength
and reputation, the guerillas proportionately increased. The most
determined spirits would naturally select a life of wild and desperate
adventure[74]--and a love of country and religion, an unextinguishable
hatred of oppression, inflamed the passions of a people proverbial for
the intensity of feeling with which they regarded even an imaginary
insult. They had now deep and heart-burning injuries to stimulate them
to hatred and revenge,--and the ferocity with which they retaliated
for past and present wrong, gained for these formidable partisans a
name that made the boldest of their oppressors tremble.
A brief sketch of this wild and devoted confederacy, so connected with
the Peninsular operations during that arduous struggle, will not be
irrelevant.
“There was in the whole system of guerilla warfare a wild and romantic
character, which, could its cruelty have been overlooked, would have
rendered it both chivalrous and exciting--and men, totally unfitted
by previous habits and education suddenly appeared upon the stage, and
developed talent and determination, that made them the scourge and
terror of the invaders.
“But theirs was a combat of extermination,--none of those courtesies,
which render modern warfare endurable, were granted to their
opponents,--the deadliest hostility was unmitigated by success,--
and, when vanquished, expecting no quarter from the French, they
never thought of extending it to those who unfortunately became their
prisoners. A sanguinary struggle was waging, and _væ victis_ seemed,
with ‘war to the knife,’ to be the only mottos of the guerilla.
“The strange exploits of many of these daring partisans,[75] though
true to the letter, are perfectly romantic; and their patient
endurance, and the deep artifice with which their objects were
affected, appear to be almost incredible. Persons, whose ages and
professions were best calculated to evade suspicion, were invariably
their chosen agents. The village priest was commonly a confederate of
the neighbouring guerilla,--the postmaster betrayed the intelligence
that reached him in his office,--the fairest peasant of Estremadura
would tempt the thoughtless soldier with her beauty, and decoy
him within range of the bullet; even childhood was frequently and
successfully employed in leading the unsuspecting victim into some pass
or ambuscade, where the knife or musket closed his earthly career.”[76]
In every community, however fierce and lawless, different gradations of
good and evil will be discovered, and nothing could be more opposite
than the feelings and actions of some of the guerillas and their
leaders.
Many of these desperate bands were actuated in every enterprise by a
love of bloodshed and spoliation, and their own countrymen suffered as
heavily from their rapacity, as their enemies from their swords. Others
took the field from nobler motives; an enthusiastic attachment to their
country and religion roused them to vengeance against a tyranny which
had now become insufferable,--every feeling but ardent patriotism was
forgotten--private and dearer ties were snapped asunder,--homes, and
wives, and children, were abandoned,--privations, that appear almost
incredible, were patiently endured, until treachery delivered them
to the executioner, or in some wild attempt they were overpowered by
numbers, and died resisting to the last.
Dreadful as the retaliation was which French cruelty and oppression
had provoked, the guerilla vengeance against domestic treachery was
neither less certain nor less severe.[77] To collect money or supplies
for the invaders, convey any information, conceal their motions, and
not betray them when opportunity occurred, was certain death to the
offender. Sometimes the delinquent was brought, with considerable
difficulty and risk, before a neighbouring tribunal, and executed
with all the formalities of justice; but, generally, a more summary
vengeance was exacted, and the traitor executed upon the spot. In these
cases, neither calling nor age were respected--and, if found false to
his country, the sanctity of his order was no protection to the priest.
The daughter of the collector of Almagro, for professing attachment
to the usurper, was stabbed by Urena to the heart,--and a secret
correspondence between the wife of the Alcalde of Birhueda and the
French general in the next command, having been detected by an
intercepted despatch, the wretched woman, by order of Juan Martin
Diez, “the Empecinado,”[78] was dragged by a guerilla party from her
house, her hair shaven, her denuded person tarred and feathered, and
disgracefully exhibited in the public market-place,--and she was then
put to death amid the execrations of her tormentors. Nor was there any
security for a traitor, even were his residence in the capital, or
almost within the camp of the enemy. One of the favourites of Joseph
Buonaparte, Don Jose Riego, was torn from his home in the suburbs
of Madrid, while celebrating his wedding, by the Empecinado, and
hanged in the square of Cadiz. The usurper himself, on two occasions,
narrowly escaped from this desperate partisan. Dining at Almeida,
some two leagues distance from the capital, with one of the generals
of division, their hilarity was suddenly interrupted by the unwelcome
intelligence that the Empecinado was at hand, and nothing but a hasty
retreat preserved the pseudo-king from capture. On another occasion, he
was surprised upon the Guadalaxara-road, and so rapid was the guerilla
movement, so determined the pursuit, that before the French could be
succoured by the garrison of Madrid, forty of the royal escort were
sabred between Torrejon and El Molar.
A war of extermination raged, and on both sides blood flowed in
torrents. One act of cruelty was as promptly answered by another; and
a French decree, ordering that every Spaniard taken in arms should be
executed, appeared to be a signal to the guerillas to exclude from
mercy every enemy who fell into their hands. The French had shown the
example; the Junta were denounced, their houses burned, and their wives
and children driven to the woods. If prisoners received quarter in the
field,--if they fell lame upon the march, or the remotest chance of
a rescue appeared, they were shot like dogs. Others were butchered in
the towns, their bodies left rotting on the highways, and their heads
exhibited on poles. That respect, which even the most depraved of men
usually pay to female honour, was shamefully disregarded,--and more
than one Spaniard, like the postmaster of Medina, was driven to the
most desperate courses, by the violation of a wife and the murder of a
child.[79]
It would be sickening to describe the horrid scenes which mutual
retaliation produced. Several of the Empecinado’s followers, who were
surprised in the mountains of Guadarama, were nailed to the trees, and
left there to expire slowly by hunger and thirst. To the same trees,
before a week elapsed, a similar number of French soldiers were affixed
by the guerillas. Two of the inhabitants of Madrid, who were suspected
of communicating with the brigands, as the French termed the armed
Spaniards, were tried by court-martial, and executed at their own door.
The next morning, six of the garrison were seen hanging from walls
besides the high road. Some females related to Palarea, surnamed the
Medico, had been abused most scandalously by the escort of a convoy,
who had seized them in a wood; and in return the guerilla general drove
into an Ermida eighty Frenchmen and their officers, set fire to the
thatch, and burned them to death, or shot them in their endeavours to
leave the blazing chapel. Such were the dreadful enormities a system of
retaliation caused.
These desperate adventurers were commanded by men of the most
dissimilar professions. All were distinguished by some _sobriquet_,
and these were of the most opposite descriptions. Among the leaders
were friars and physicians, cooks and artisans; while some were
characterized by a deformity, and others named after the form of their
waistcoat or hat. Worse epithets described many of the minor chiefs,--
truculence and spoliation obtained them titles; and, strange as it may
appear, the most ferocious band that infested Biscay was commanded by
a woman named Martina. So indiscriminating and unrelenting was this
female monster in her murder of friends and foes, that Mina was obliged
to direct his force against her. She was surprised, with the greater
part of her banditti, and the whole were shot upon the spot.
Of all the guerilla leaders the two Minas were the most remarkable
for their daring, their talents, and their successes. The younger,
Xavier, had a short career--but nothing could be more chivalrous and
romantic than many of the incidents that marked it. His band amounted
to a thousand--and with this force he kept Navarre, Biscay, and Aragon
in confusion; intercepted convoys, levied contributions, plundered
the custom-houses, and harassed the enemy incessantly. The villages
were obliged to furnish rations for his troops, and the French convoys
supplied him with money and ammunition. His escapes were often
marvellous.[80] He swam flooded rivers deemed impassable, and climbed
precipices hitherto untraversed by a human foot. Near Estella he was
forced by numbers to take refuge on a lofty rock; the only accessible
side he defended till nightfall, when, lowering himself and followers
by a rope, he brought his party off without the loss of a man.
This was among his last exploits; for, when reconnoitring by moonlight,
in the hope of capturing a valuable convoy, he fell unexpectedly into
the hands of an enemy’s patrol. Proscribed by the French as a bandit,
it was surprising that his life was spared; but his loss to the
guerillas was regarded as a great misfortune.
While disputing as to the choice of a leader, where so many aspired
to a command to which each could offer an equal claim, an adventurer
worthy to succeed their lost chief was happily discovered in his
uncle, the elder Mina. Educated as a husbandman, and scarcely able to
read or write, the new leader had lived in great retirement, until
the Junta’s call to arms induced him to join his nephew’s band. He
reluctantly acceded to the general wish to become Xavier’s successor;
but when he assumed the command, his firm and daring character was
rapidly developed. Echeverria, with a strong following, had started as
a rival chief; but Mina surprised him--had three of his subordinates
shot with their leader--and united the remainder of the band with his
own. Although he narrowly escaped becoming a victim to the treachery
of a comrade, the prompt and severe justice with which he visited the
offender, effectually restrained other adventurers from making any
similar attempt.
The traitor was a sergeant of his own, who, from the bad expression of
his face, had received among his companions the sobriquet of Malcarado.
Discontented with the new commander, he determined to betray him to the
enemy, and concerted measures with Pannetti, whose brigade was near
the village of Robres, to surprise the guerilla chieftain in his bed.
Partial success attended the treacherous attempt; but Mina defended
himself desperately with the bar of the door, and kept the French
at bay till Gustra, his chosen comrade, assisted him to escape. The
guerilla rallied his followers, repulsed the enemy, took Malcarado, and
shot him instantly; while the village cure and three alcades implicated
in the traitorous design, were hanged side by side upon a tree, and
their houses rased to the ground.
An example of severity like this gave confidence to his own followers,
and exacted submission from the peasantry. Every where Mina had a
faithful spy--every movement of the enemy was reported; and if a
village magistrate received a requisition from a French commandant, it
was communicated to the guerilla chief with due despatch, or woe to the
alcade that neglected it.
Nature had formed Mina[81] for the service to which he had devoted
himself. His constitution was equal to every privation and fatigue,
and his courage was of that prompt and daring character which no
circumstance, however sudden and disheartening, could overcome.
Careless as to dress or food, he depended for a change of linen on
the capture of French baggage or any accidental supply; and for days
he could subsist on a few biscuits, or any thing chance threw in his
way. He guarded carefully against surprise--slept with a dagger
and pistols in his girdle; and such were his active habits, that he
rarely took more than two hours of repose. Remote caverns were the
depositories of his ammunition and plunder; and in a mountain fastness
he established an hospital for his wounded, to which they were carried
on litters across the heights, and placed in perfect safety until their
cure could be completed. Gaming and plunder were prohibited, and even
love forbidden, lest the guerilla might be too communicative to the
object of his affection, and any of his chieftain’s secrets should thus
transpire.
Of the minor chiefs many strange and chivalrous adventures are on
record. The daring plans, often tried and generally successful, and the
hair-breadth escapes of several, are almost beyond belief. No means,
however repugnant to the laws of modern warfare, were unemployed;
while the ingenuity with which intelligence of a hostile movement was
transmitted--the artifice with which an enemy was delayed, until he
could be surrounded or surprised, appear incredible. Of individual
ferocity a few instances will be sufficient. At the execution of an
alcade and his son at Mondragon, the old man boasted that two hundred
French had perished by their hands; and the Chaleco, Francis Moreno,
in a record of his services, boasts of his having waited for a cavalry
patrol in a ravine, and by the discharge of a huge blunderbuss, loaded
nearly to the muzzle, dislocated his own shoulder, and killed or
wounded nine of the French. The same chief presented to Villafranca a
rich booty of plate and quicksilver, and added to the gift a parcel of
ears cut from the prisoners whom on that occasion he had slaughtered.
Profiting by the anarchy that reigned in this afflicted country,
wretches, under political excuses, committed murder and devastation on
a scale of frightful magnitude. One, pretending to be a functionary of
the Junta, made Ladrada a scene of bloodshed. By night his victims were
despatched; and, to the disgrace of woman, his wife was more sanguinary
than himself. Castanos at length arrested their blood-stained career;
and Pedrazeula was hanged and beheaded, and Maria, his infamous
confederate, gavotted.
Castile was overrun by banditti; and one gang, destroyed by a guerilla
chief named Juan Abril, had accumulated plunder, principally in specie,
amounting in value to half a million of reals. One of the band, when
captured by the French, to save his life discovered the secret, and
offered to lead a party to the place where the treasure was deposited.
His proposal was accepted. An alguazil, with an escort of cavalry,
proceeded to the wood of Villa Viciosa, and there booty was found
worth more than the value affixed to it by the deserter. Returning in
unsuspecting confidence, the party were drawn into an ambuscade by the
Medico, who had been acquainted with the expedition; and of the escort
and officials, with the exception of five who managed to escape, every
one was butchered without mercy.
Such were the wild and relentless foes to whom the invaders were
exposed--such were the Spaniards, who had made themselves remarkable
for patriotism and endurance--surpassing courage, and unmitigated
cruelty.[82]
OPERATIONS AND OCCURRENCES FROM THE DEATH OF SIR JOHN MOORE TO THE
ARRIVAL OF SIR ARTHUR WELLESLEY.
Operations of the French.--General Friere murdered.--Defeat of the
Spanish armies.--Siege of Zaragoza.--Operations in Catalonia.--
Proceedings at Lisbon.--Arrival of Sir Arthur Wellesley.--State
of the allied army.--Soult’s dangerous position.
Under such unpromising circumstances, which we have described,
intelligence reached Sir John Craddock, that three French armies were
about to move on Portugal; Soult from Gallicia, Lapisse from Salamanca,
and Victor from the Tagus. In the vicinity of the latter, Cuesta was
endeavouring to organize anew his routed levies: but on his exertions
little dependence could be placed--and when the alarm spread, the
garrison of Almeida was withdrawn, the forts on the Tagus dismantled,
and every preparation was made to embark the British at Lisbon, and
abandon Portugal to her oppressors.
This panic was, however, checked by the preservation of Almeida and
Rodrigo, by Sir Robert Wilson’s Portuguese, added to some advantages
gained by Cuesta’s army over the French, under Victor. The British
force in Lisbon had also been reinforced--twenty thousand Portuguese
were taken into the pay of England--and all these things restored, in
some degree, a partial confidence.
After the embarkation at Corunna, the French were for a short time
inactive. Ney relieved Soult in Gallicia with seventeen thousand men,
and enabled the latter to advance on Oporto with twenty-four thousand.
After garrisoning Vigo and Tuy, he attempted to cross the Minho near
its mouth--but, from imperfect means of transport, he was repulsed,
and obliged to march up the river, and pass it by the bridge at Orense.
This movement, though in the first instance unfavourable, had nearly
ended in the destruction of Romana; who, being surprised and defeated,
saved himself only by some happy accidents from total ruin.
On entering Portugal, the few and ill-disciplined remnants of the
Spanish regiments fell back upon the mountain country, General Friere
prudently adopting a defensive system, rather venture a combat,
for which he knew well that his army was utterly unprepared. This
determination of the Spanish general was unpopular. Unpractised in
the field, without discipline or formation, and blind to the severe
lessons taught them by their recent defeats, these raw levies were
ardent for action, and clamorous to meet the enemy again. A number of
irregulars, who had lately joined, excited this popular delusion--and
they insisted that, contrary to his own judgment, that their general
should fight. Friere prudently and steadily refused; and his mutinous
soldiers--if such a mob deserve the name--broke into his quarters,
treated him with every ignominy, and finally murdered himself and most
of his staff.
They immediately elected a British _employé_, Baron Eben, who
commanded a Lusitanian brigade, as their commander; and, he, unable
to control their fancy for fighting, brought them fairly into action
at Carvalho de Este. As might have been expected from such ruffians,
they were completely routed. Like Falstaff, the Baron had brought his
“scoundrels where they were well peppered,”--and many fell victims to
their stupidity and presumption, in supposing for a moment, that they
could encounter Soult’s veteran troops with the slightest prospect of
success. Oporto was next besieged--and though the city was garrisoned
by twenty thousand men, having two hundred guns mounted on the works,
it was stormed on the third day. The usual scenes of military license,
which the usage of war permits after a successful assault, were here
fearfully enacted. Soult, however, checked the turbulence of the
soldiery after the first burst of fury had subsided; and on the next
day, order was generally restored.
Meanwhile the Spanish armies were undergoing a series of disasters--
and Cuesta was driven from the southern frontier, after suffering a
signal defeat. Victor following up his success, crossed the Tagus at
Almaraz, and threw himself on the Spanish army. The French charge was
stoutly withstood--the cavalry driven back--and, in return, Victor’s
left attacked, and forced for nearly two miles to retire. But it
rallied--the Spanish horse, which had been pursuing, suddenly gave
way; a panic seized the infantry--the whole broke--threw down their
arms,--and endeavoured to save themselves by a precipitous flight. No
quarter was given--upwards of nine thousand men were bayoneted and cut
down--and the Spanish army was totally disorganized, and placed, for
every useful purpose, completely _hors de combat_.
The army of La Mancha was not more fortunate in an engagement at Ciudad
Real with Sebastiani. Broken at the first charge, they were hunted
off the field, and pursued by the French cavalry to the very base
of the Sierra Morena. Their guns and three thousand prisoners were
the trophies of a complete _déroute_. The number of their killed and
wounded was immense, for the French followed up their success with
unscrupulous severity, cutting down or bayoneting every fugitive that
could be overtaken. No wonder that the French marshals carried terror
with their names; and that the overthrow of the Spanish legions alarmed
their British allies at Lisbon. Means were adopted for defence, in the
event of the French advancing--a corps was stationed at Abrantes--the
main body at Leria--and the Portuguese under Beresford at Thomar.
Some other operations of moment had occurred in Arragon and Catalonia.
In Arragon the reduction of Zaragoza was the next attempt of the
French after the fatal fight of Tudela; and there, a resistance was
unexpectedly given by the inhabitants, that finds no parallel in the
annals of war.[83] Every effort of art and labour was exhausted to
render the city one huge fortress; the convent became a barrack; the
church an hospital; woman forgot her fears; the monk left the shrine
for the battery; every street was retrenched; every building secured
by barricades; and when the external defences were destroyed, and the
walls levelled by the besiegers, the contest had to be continued from
street to street--and house after house was as obstinately defended,
as if upon its occupation the fate of Zaragoza hung. Although hunger
exhausted their energies, and pestilence swept the defenders away
by thousands, the stern reply to every summons was “_guerre a la
cuchulo!_” At last, when every street was ruined--when forty thousand
of every sex and age had perished--twelve thousand wretched men, too
much enfeebled to resist, and a ruined heap of shattered buildings,
were the dear-earned trophies that fell to the conquerors of Europe.
In Catalonia, for a time, the progress of French conquest was
interrupted. St. Cyr, however, advanced with twenty thousand men, and
after a spirited resistance, obliged Rosas to surrender. Following up
his success, the French general marched and attacked Vives, who had
taken up a strong position defended by a number of guns. Although St.
Cyr was unprovided with cannon--his mountain movement having obliged
him to send his artillery to Figueras--he threw himself upon the
Spanish lines, broke and dispersed them, with great slaughter, and the
loss of the whole of their guns. Again, at Llobregat, he brought the
Spanish general to action, and the battle terminated with results as
ruinous. Vives was deposed from the command, and Reding succeeded him.
Reding, finding himself in command of thirty thousand men, decided
on acting on the offensive, and moved forward with his army. This
determination was unfortunate. St. Cyr, availing himself of the great
extension of Reding’s force, threw himself upon its centre, severed the
wings, and destroyed their communication. After vainly endeavouring,
by reuniting a portion of his beaten troops to oppose Souham, Reding
was overtaken by St. Cyr, near Tarragona--again defeated, his army
dispersed, and himself mortally wounded.
Blake succeeded to the chief command on Reding’s death; and while a
detachment of a thousand French was surprised on the river Cinca by
Perena, the Spanish commandant engaged Suchet with credit, and drove
him at night-fall from the field. This partial victory roused the
drooping spirits of the Spaniards--and Blake moved into Arragon to
recapture Zaragoza from the invaders.
These temporary successes held out little prospect of repelling
invading armies, which were expecting an immense addition to their
force. In fact, Portugal would have been soon at the mercy of the
enemy, and Spain could have offered but a feeble resistance, when
Sir Arthur Wellesley arrived to take the chief command--or, as many
believed, to witness a second embarkation, and yield Portugal once more
to the invaders.
These forebodings were unfounded--nothing was farther from the
intention of Sir Arthur than an abandonment of the country. He
instantly proceeded to adopt measures that should enable him to take
the field, and the army was concentrated, with the exception of
Mackenzie’s brigade, at Coimbra, and reviewed. The entire numbered
twenty-six thousand men, of which six thousand formed the separate
corps under Marshal Beresford. With the Germans, the English brigades
mustered about seventeen thousand; the detached corps under Mackenzie,
amounting to nearly three thousand, of which one half was cavalry; and
a farther augmentation was effected by brigading one Portuguese, with
every two of the British battalions.
A strong division--Mackenzie’s brigades--with Portuguese regiments
amounting to twelve thousand men, were posted at Santarem and Abrantes.
This corps was intended to secure Lisbon, should Victor prefer marching
on the capital by Alentejo, rather than proceed with his army into
Andalusia.
In the mean time Soult’s position became extremely dangerous.--A
British army in his front--bands of guerillas in his rear; one flank
hemmed in by Silviera at Amarante; and the ocean on the other. But
that able marshal perceived the difficulties of his situation, and
deciding at once to secure an open road in his rear, he despatched
Delaborde and Loison to recover Amarante. The task was a tedious and
doubtful operation; and for twelve days the place was assaulted and
maintained.[84] At last, Soult in person came forward in strength--
and Silviera was driven from the bridge over the Tamaga, with the loss
of his cannon,--and the French retreat was for the present secured.
But two courses remained for the duke of Dalmatia to adopt--to move
towards Victor, by circuitous marches on the Tagus--or, what was far
more probable, retire from Portugal by the road leading through the
Tras os Montes.
PASSAGE OF THE DOURO.
First movements of the Allies.--Affairs with French cavalry and
rear-guard.--Passage of the Douro.--Soult’s disorderly retreat.--
French suffer heavily.--Wellesley moves to the south, and
communicates with Cuesta.--Combined movement planned.--Cuesta’s
imbecility mars it.--Victor escapes.
From the moment Sir Arthur Wellesley landed in Portugal, the
character of the war had changed; and, notwithstanding the numerous
and discouraging drawbacks upon a bold career which the obstinacy of
the Spaniards and the deficiency of his own means were continually
presenting, before the masterly decision of the British general,
all obstacles ultimately gave way; and victory, which had hovered
doubtfully over many a hard-contested field, at last rested on his
banners, and wreathed her laurels round his brows.
Never had a triumphant campaign a bolder or more brilliant opening.
On the 7th of May, the cavalry brigade, under General Cotton, marched
on the Oporto road, followed by the remainder of the army in three
divisions; those of generals Paget and Payne moving towards Vouga;
and the third, under General Hill, advancing on Aveira. The movements
were slowly executed, to allow Marshal Beresford time to reach his
destination, and seize the bridge of Amarante, before a British force
should display itself in front of Oporto.
These plans of Sir Arthur Wellesley were ably effected by the officers
in command. While Beresford was marching with all expedition on the
Upper Douro, Hill, on the night of the 9th, passed a brigade in
fishing-boats across the lake, and at dawn of day landed it safely at
Ovar, turning the right flank of the French; while Beresford, having
joined Wilson, drove Loison’s corps to Amarante, and turned their
left. Sir Arthur hoped to have taken Franchesci, who commanded the
French cavalry division at Abegeria Nova, by surprise; but a country
difficult to traverse, and accidental delays in transporting the guns
through the pass of Vouga, prolonged the march. When the cavalry, under
Cotton, came in sight of the enemy in the morning, they found him
perfectly prepared, and in an excellent position--his cavalry in line
upon a level plain--their flank resting on a pine wood occupied by a
body of tirailleurs. General Cotton halted and formed in their front--
and in this attitude, Sir Arthur found the French and his own advanced
guard.
The infantry having now arrived, the wood was cleared of its
sharpshooters, and dispositions made for bringing the cavalry
to action; but Franchesci, though quickly pursued, succeeded in
retreating--abandoning the position to the British, and by a night
march uniting himself to Mermet, whom he joined at Grijon.
Here, Sir Arthur found them on the 11th, posted strongly on some
high grounds behind the village, and to all appearance, determined
to hold them. In a rapid survey of the position, the British general
perceived that the left could be turned; and although the column never
halted, the necessary manœuvres were effected by detaching General
Murray on the right from the rear of the advanced guard, and throwing
a Portuguese regiment into a pine wood on the left, to amuse the
attention of the enemy, while General Paget threatened them in front.
For a short time a heavy firing was maintained, but, on the flank
movement being discovered, the French instantly abandoned the position
and retreated. The British were as promptly thrown into column again,
and the march resumed, as if nothing had happened, and every movement
had been that of a field-day.
A brilliant cavalry affair succeeded. On topping the heights from which
the French had been forced, their rear was seen retiring in confusion,
and General Stuart volunteered to charge with a few troops of hussars
that were fortunately at hand. The attack was made in sections. The
British cavalry galloped down the road, overturned all that opposed
them, and made above one hundred prisoners. Nothing could check their
daring gallantry, until the French infantry were halted on a height
commanding the road. Although unable to face the fire of a force so
posted as those were who held Carvalhos, the squadrons wheeled boldly
to the right, and threatened the left of the enemy. Dreading lest they
should be overtaken and outflanked, the French instantly gave up the
hill, and continued retiring rapidly.
The march commenced at nine in the morning--and at five the troops
halted for the night, having had their advanced guard almost constantly
engaged. This, however, never checked the movement of the columns,
and the division occupied the ground the French had left--Sir Arthur
supping in the convent of Grijon with his staff. It must have been
indeed a busy day with the _religieux_--for four generals, Delaborde,
Thomieres, Mermet, and Franchesci, had favoured them with their company
at breakfast.
All went on favourably; Hill had landed at Ovar--Cameron came up--and
both were in communication. Though holding better ground, the enemy had
in every attack been driven back. Yet they had fought gallantly, and it
was encouraging to British soldiers to find that they had fairly met
the best troops in Europe, and as fairly beaten them.
Next morning the march was renewed. Soult avoided any collision,
retreated over the Douro, destroyed the bridge, and carried every boat
that could swim to the other bank, and there effectually secured them.
This was a critical moment--and in a more dangerous position a British
general never found himself. A broad and rapid river separated the
allies from the enemy, and no means of passing it could be discovered.
Soult might retire unmolested into Gallicia if he pleased, or
attack Beresford singly, overpower him by superior force, and enter
Beira. Danger often stimulates bravery to startling but successful
enterprises; and in this emergency Wellesley decided on as bold an
effort as modern warfare parallels,--the crossing of the Douro.
It was, indeed, a daring and a perilous attempt; a strong force was on
the other bank; the shores were steep and rocky, and the stream three
hundred yards across. Every means had been taken by Soult to make the
passage impracticable. His generals of brigade were in observation
on the banks; every point of passage was defended; while the marshal
satisfied himself that the bridge was utterly destroyed, as he watched
from midnight till daybreak the burning pontoons as they went floating
down the current. The only practicable plan that seemed left for Sir
Arthur to adopt was to employ the shipping, and land his troops at the
débouchement of the Douro; and, in that belief, the French general
retired to his head-quarters, from which he could observe the sea--
and, as he expected, watch the disembarkation.
Wellesley, aware how dangerously Marshal Beresford was situated, had
determined at every hazard to cross the river, and arrangements were
instantly made. General Murray was despatched to Avintes to try the
ford, and if boats could be found, to send them down the stream,--
the Guards, under General Sherbrooke, were detached to attempt the
ferry below the town;--while, from the convent of Santo Agostinho,
the British commander directed the main operations in person. A spot
was marked on the opposite shore as a favourable place for landing. It
was an unfinished building near the bank, and there, the troops first
passed over were directed to establish themselves until assistance
reached them. To cover this landing-place some guns were quietly got
into battery in the convent garden. Every preparation was made--and a
fortunate accident obtained the means of passage.
A small skiff was discovered hidden in some high rushes, that had
concealed it from the French. A few peasants and a Portuguese colonel
crossed over, and found some three or four crazy barges, half buried in
the mud. These prizes were instantly secured. Three companies of the
Buffs jumped in, accompanied by General Paget. The opposite bank was
gained,--the dismantled building garrisoned,--and the barges were
returning for a fresh detachment, before the French seemed aware of the
attempt, and--as it turned out--when it was too late to repel it.
The enemy came down in force, but the Buffs held the building they
occupied against overwhelming odds. General Paget was wounded--but
fresh companies were ferried over, and General Hill took charge of
the troops. The French came on in columns, but the batteries from the
Serra convent annoyed them with a plunging fire, while the troops from
the building kept up a well-directed fusilade. Murray, who had found
little difficulty, and succeeded in passing his division by the ford,
now appeared moving rapidly on the left flank of the French--while
Sherbrooke, having obtained some boats, was ferrying the Guards over
below the town. Finding himself likely to be turned on either side,
Soult hastily retreated by the Amarante road, boldly followed by the
British cavalry, who charged repeatedly with most brilliant success.
Evening ended the pursuit--the brigades occupied the city in every
place--they were cheered by loud vivas, and most affectionately
received by the inhabitants.
The crossing of the Douro was, in military estimation, as bold and
well-arranged an operation as any that marked Wellesley’s Peninsular
career. The passage of a river in the face of an enemy with every
assistance from pontoons and ferryage, is considered a hazardous
undertaking; but, circumstanced as the British commander was, the thing
was generally set down as impracticable, and Soult was unprepared for
the attempt. When the news was brought that the enemy was crossing
at Villa Nova, the marshal ridiculed the notion, and remained in his
quarters until two in the afternoon. He was then obliged precipitately
to quit the city; and so suddenly were Wellesley’s measures executed,
that the dinner prepared for the duke of Dalmatia, was served up to the
British general and his staff. War is, certes, a game of chances;--and
little did the French marshal suppose, when at noon he regulated the
_carte_ presented by his _maître d’hôtel_, that he was then civilly
arranging an excellent repast for his opponent. Yet such was the case.
Wellesley succeeded Soult--and within a few hours the same roof
covered the victor and the vanquished.
Nothing could exceed the irregularity of the French retreat. Before
they could be persuaded that the passage of the Douro was seriously
designed, the British were charging through the suburbs; and instead
of retiring with an orderly formation on the advance of the enemy,
the French rear-guard got mobbed together on the road, and allowed an
opportunity to the cavalry of their pursuers to act with an audacity
and success that the weakness of their squadrons could never have
warranted, had not a considerable panic been previously occasioned, by
the precipitation with which Soult’s divisions were hurried from the
city. Night came most opportunely, and ended the pursuit,--enabling
the French marshal to unite himself with Loison, from whom he received
the unwelcome intelligence that the bridge of Amarante was destroyed.
Soult’s situation was almost desperate; his only line of retreat was
by a mountain track; and, by taking it, he was obliged to cross the
pass of Ruivans, a long narrow bridge, without a parapet on either
side, spanning a frightful precipice. Should this be occupied,--and no
doubt Beresford was marching thither,--nothing could save his army.
With excellent judgment, he abandoned his artillery and baggage, pushed
rapidly forward, and, having forced the Portuguese pickets which here
and there occupied the mountain passes, he out-marched Silviera by
several hours, and halted his rear-guard at Salamonde, to cover the
bridges of Saltador and Porto Nova, while his columns were defiling.
Here, however, he was overtaken and brought to action, on the 16th, by
Sir Arthur. Although the position was strong, and the brigade of Guards
were the only infantry come up, the British general instantly made his
dispositions for attack. The left was turned by the rifle corps--the
Guards advancing boldly in front. After delivering a volley at the head
of the column when it shewed itself, the French precipitately fled--
and, hurrying through the village in their rear, succeeded, under cover
of the darkness, in escaping. Some delay in clearing a defile, allowed
the horse artillery to come up--and their rapid fire did considerable
execution before the crowd of fugitives could get beyond its range.
The next morning’s dawn renewed the pursuit; and every turn of the
road, cumbered with broken vehicles and deserted baggage, shewed how
severely the French army had been pressed. The bridge was nearly
impassable from dead men and slain horses laid there in heaps by the
grape and canister of the British guns. Arms, accoutrements, ham-strung
mules, guns, tumbrils, knapsacks filled with silver plate, tapestry,
and other valuable plunder, were strewn indiscriminately along the
line. To add to this scene of waste and suffering, the villages the
advancing army entered were either in a blaze, or already reduced
to ashes; for between the French troops and peasantry a deadly war
of extermination was being carried on--and on both sides, deeds of
cruelty were every day perpetrated, that can hardly be credited or
described. Indeed, the French retreat through the Gallician mountains
was only paralleled by the British on Corunna; with this exception,
that many a straggler from the British columns was saved by the
humanity of the Spaniards, while the unhappy Frenchman who lagged
but a few hundred yards behind the rear-guard, was butchered by the
infuriated peasantry, bent on the work of slaughter and burning for
vengeance on an enemy, who, in his day of conquest and dominion, had
taught the lesson of cruelty now practised so unrelentingly on himself.
Soult turning from Montalegre towards Orense, and a French corps from
Estremadura having moved on Alcantara, induced Sir Arthur Wellesley to
discontinue the pursuit. The French marshal crossed the frontier on the
18th with barely nineteen thousand men--his guns, stores, and baggage
abandoned to the conquerors. Ten weeks, perfect in every arm, that army
had passed through Orense on its march to Oporto, mustering twenty-six
thousand veteran soldiers. A short period had wrought a fearful
change--and even the _débris_ of that once splendid corps was only
extricated from total destruction by the admirable tact and unbending
_hardiesse_ of their brave and gifted leader.
It was indeed full time for the British leader to move southward.
Victor, joined by the division of Lapisse, had, after a splendid
resistance from a Portuguese corps under Colonel Mayne, forced the
passage of the Tagus at Alcantara, and threatened Lisbon. After a few
forward movements, learning that Soult was retreating, Victor fell
back himself to Merida, detached a division to observe the bridge of
Almarez, and fixed his head-quarters at Torremocha.
By easy marches, Sir Arthur reached the Douro on the 7th. His army
was in a bad condition, suffering alike from their past fatigues in
Gallicia, and a total want of every necessary and comfort. The country
was unable to supply him, and he had no means to procure by land or
water carriage, assistance from his own commissariate. The hospitals
were crowded--officers and men were without pay, provisions, or
even shoes. Still, though disappointed in remittances, and unable to
support his army with any regard to their comforts, the troops had the
most implicit confidence in their leader, and very justly ascribed
the privations they endured to causes over which their general had no
control. The spirit of the army was still unbroken--and much as its
physical strength might have deteriorated since it marched from Coimbra
to attack Soult, its gallantry was undiminished, and its desire to meet
the enemy as ardent as it had been ever.
Spanish affairs, considered generally, had also assumed a more
favourable appearance; and although the French force in Spain was
still immense, there being within the Pyrenees one hundred and fifty
thousand men, the reverses Napoleon had encountered at Wagram, and the
threatening aspect of affairs in Germany, precluded any chance that
his lieutenants on the Peninsula would be further reinforced. Hence a
spirit of reaction was encouraged in the Spaniards, accompanied by a
reasonable prospect of success.
On reaching Abrantes on the 7th, it was correctly ascertained that,
instead of retiring on Madrid, Victor was concentrating at Merida,
intending, probably, to cross the Guadiana, and attack Cuesta before
the British could come to his assistance. Propositions therefore for
a combined movement were made by Sir Arthur Wellesley to the “Spanish
general,” and willingly acceded to--and the British moved forward to
the Teitar, to unite, as it was believed, in an operation upon Madrid.
A most able plan for marching at once for the recovery of the capital
was arranged at a conference between the allied commanders.[85] The
British and Spanish armies, taking the right bank of the Tagus, were
to advance directly forward. Venegas, with fourteen thousand Spaniards,
was to threaten Aranjuez, and, if possible, take possession of Toledo;
while two other Spanish divisions should hold the passes of Banos and
Perales; and five thousand Portuguese, under Sir Robert Wilson, were to
act independently, and annoy the French flanks and rear as they best
could.
The British consequently moved by Salvatiera and Placentia, effecting a
junction with Cuesta at Oropesa on the 20th of July. On the 22nd Victor
had retired and taken a position on the Alberche. The opportunity was
at once given for attacking him, but Cuesta obstinately declined; and
Victor, hearing that Wilson was already in his rear at Escalona, made a
night march on Torrijos.
Cuesta was a singular medley of opposite qualities. He was exceedingly
brave--had some daring--overweening pride--and a most asinine
obstinacy. Finding it desirable for the prosperity of the common
cause to submit to the old man’s folly, Sir Arthur Wellesley acted
with singular forbearance. It had been arranged that Victor should
be attacked on the 23rd--and when the British general reached his
confederate’s quarters to arrange the necessary details on the evening
of the 22nd, Cuesta was asleep, and no one dared to waken him. At
dawn, the British divisions were under arms, but Cuesta could not be
disturbed till seven! At last an interview did take place--and then
the weak old man positively declined to fight, because the day was
_Sunday_. Victor had but twenty thousand men with him at the moment.
The Alberche was fordable--the right and centre assailable: Cuesta’s
army numbered forty-seven thousand, and Wellesley’s about twenty-one.
Was ever such an opportunity lost?--and all, too, through the stupid
bigotry of a sleepy-headed Spaniard.[86]
Meanwhile the great scarcity of provisions obliged the British to halt
for a day or two, and Wellesley, to obtain supplies, took a position
behind the Alberche.
TALAVERA.
Cuesta attacked by Victor--Saved by the division of British
Guards.--Position selected by Lord Wellington.--Battle of
Talavera.--Light regiments join the army by a forced march.
While Sir Arthur halted at Talavera, having two divisions across the
river at Casa Leguas, Cuesta followed the French, who as he persuaded
himself were retreating--but Sebastiani had marched from Toledo
and joined Victor, while Joseph Buonaparte, having united his corps
to Jourdan’s, was hastening to a common centre. The whole united at
Torrijos, forming a _corps d’armée_ of nearly fifty thousand men.
Cuesta, with all his Spanish obstinacy, would still insist that the
French were not concentrating, but retreating,--but the delusion was
short. Victor suddenly attacked him--and as his retreat was most
disorderly, nothing but prompt assistance from Sherbrooke’s division
could have saved the stupid old man from destruction. When this was
effected, the Guards crossed the river, leaving Mackenzie’s division in
possession of the wood and convent on the right bank of the Alberche.
A recent deliverance seemed to have had no effect upon Spanish
obstinacy. Though certain of being attacked, Cuesta lay loosely on the
Alberche, into which, had his army been defeated, it must have been
driven pell-mell. Happily, Sir Arthur, in reconnoitring the ground in
the neighbourhood, discovered an extensive line on which both armies
might be placed to their mutual advantage. “He took his measures
with such promptitude, and issued his orders with such coolness and
perspicuity, that every battalion, Spanish as well as English, stepped
into the very spot which his admirable foresight had marked out for
it.”[87]
The position was about two miles in length, extending perpendicularly
from the Tagus, on which the right rested in the town of Talavera. It
was partially retrenched, having an intersected and most difficult
country in its front. The centre was more open; but the left terminated
favourably on a bold and commanding height, overlooking a considerable
valley, which separated the left of the position from a range of rocky
mountains. To the Spaniards the right was allotted, it being considered
nearly unattackable--while the British defended the more accessible
ground upon the left.
Talavera stands on the northern bank of the Tagus, the houses reaching
down to the water’s edge. The two armies were drawn up in line; the
British on the left, extending from the town nearly to the Sierra
de Gata, its extreme flank occupying a bold height near Alatuza de
Segusella, and having in its front a difficult ravine, and on its
flank a deep valley. To the Spaniards the right was assigned. Their
battalions were stationed among olive groves, with walls and fences
interspersed, and an embankment running along the road, that formed an
excellent breastwork, and rendered their position nearly unassailable.
It was necessary to secure the point of junction where the British
right touched Cuesta’s left,--and, to effect this, ten guns were
placed in battery on the summit of a bold knoll, with an English
division to protect them, and a strong cavalry corps in reserve. In the
general disposition of the troops, Campbell’s division was on the right
of the British, Sherbrooke’s division adjoining; Mackenzie occupied the
next portion of the battle-ground,--while the height upon the left--
the key of the position, was intrusted to General Hill.
During the morning, the troops had been marching on the different
points marked for their occupation, and had taken ground hitherto
unmolested by the enemy; but at noon Mackenzie’s division was suddenly
and furiously assailed by two heavy columns, which attacked the wood
and convent. Partially surprised, the 87th and 88th regiments were
thrown into a momentary confusion;[88] and the French penetrated
between the two brigades which formed the division. Immediately, by
the exertions of their officers, the 31st, 45th, and 60th rifles were
brought forward, and these regiments covered their companions, while
they retired from the wood into the plain, retreating in beautiful
order along the heights on the left of the position which they were
directed to occupy.
The enemy continued their attack, and it had now extended partially
along the whole line, growing more animated as the evening began to
fall. The left, where the British stood, at once appeared the grand
object of the marshals.[89] They directed a strong force against it,
forming their infantry into columns of battalions, which advanced in
double quick, supported by a furious cannonade.
Mackenzie’s division having retired a little, and, at the moment,
forming a second line, the brunt of the assault fell upon a smaller
brigade under General Donkin, then in possession of the height. The
French, though they came on with imposing bravery, were checked in
front; but from the weakness of his brigade, Donkin’s flank was turned
on the left, and the hill behind crowned by the enemy.
But that success was momentary. Hill instantly led up the 48th, 29th,
and 1st battalion of detachments. A close and murderous volley from
the British was followed by a charge. The French were forced from the
position with great loss; and the ridge was again carried by a wing of
the 29th with the bayonet.
There was a brief space of quiet; but determined to win the key of the
position, though darkness had now set in, the French in great force
once more rushed forward to wrest the height from its defenders--and
in the gloom the assailants and the assailed nearly touched each other.
The red flash of a well-delivered volley disclosed to the English the
dark array that threatened them. The order was given to advance,--and
again the British bayonet drove the columns down the hill.
No fighting could have been more desperate than that which marked this
night attack. A feint had been made by Lapisse upon the Germans in the
centre, while, with the _élite_ of their infantry, Ruffin and Vilatte
ascended the heights, which, at every loss, they seemed more resolute
in winning. A terrific slaughter ensued. Could it be otherwise? So
desperately was this night fighting maintained, and the regiments were
so closely engaged, that in the _mêlée_, some of the men fought with
clubbed muskets.
These signal repulses of a powerful and gallant enemy could not but
cost a heavy expenditure of blood. Many brave officers had fallen--
and at this period of the conflict, the killed and wounded amounted to
upwards of eight hundred men.
The troops rested upon their arms--and each battalion on the ground it
had occupied the preceding day. The cavalry were stretched beside their
horses; all were ready for an attack; but the night passed with some
slight alarms, and no serious disturbance.
The morning was ushered in by a tremendous cannonade, while the
grenadiers of Lapisse’s division, in two columns, advanced again to
attack the height upon the left. They were bravely led forward by
their officers, and made many desperate but unavailing efforts to
win the summit of the hill--but nothing could shake the firmness of
the British. They allowed the columns to mount the rugged ascent,
until they had nearly touched the ridge,--then, a close volley, a
loud huzza, followed by a rapid charge, broke the formation of the
French, and sent them precipitously down the hill. Again and again the
attempt was made with equal ill fortune; until, totally disheartened
by repeated repulses and leaving the ground heaped with dead, the
enemy abandoned all hope of carrying this well-defended position, and
retreated out of fire.
It was now half-past eight, and the fighting had never intermitted from
five that morning. The loss on both sides was frightful; the French
infinitely greater than the British. Their repeated attacks on the
height occasioned immense loss; and their troops, dispirited by want of
success, and wearied by constant but unavailing exertion, showed little
inclination to renew the battle.
The heat of the sun had become intolerable--and the movements, on
the French part, were stayed. Indeed, the firing had ceased over the
field--and the work of slaughter, by a sort of mutual consent, was
for a time suspended. The French commenced cooking their dinners, and
the English and their allies produced their scantier rations. During
this temporary cessation of hostilities, it was a matter of some
deliberation with the British commander, whether in turn he should
become the assailant, or remain quietly and await the result of the
enemy’s decision; and it was a fortunate circumstance that the latter
was his determination.
At this time a curious incident occurred, that for a brief space
changed the character of the war, and, even on a battle-field covered
with the dead and dying, produced a display of kindly feeling between
two brave and noble-minded enemies.[90]
“A small stream, tributary to the Tagus, flowed through a part of the
battle-ground, and separated the combatants. During the pause that the
heat of the weather and the weariness of the troops had produced, both
armies went to the banks of the rivulet for water. The men approached
each other fearlessly, threw down their caps and muskets, chatted to
each other like old acquaintances, and exchanged their brandy-flasks
and wine-skins. All asperity of feeling seemed forgotten. To a stranger
they would have appeared more like an allied force, than men hot
from a ferocious conflict, and only gathering strength and energy to
recommence it anew. But a still nobler rivalry for the time existed;
the interval was employed in carrying off the wounded, who lay
intermixed upon the hard-contested field; and, to the honour of both
be it told, that each endeavoured to extricate the common sufferers,
and remove their unfortunate friends and enemies, without distinction.
Suddenly, the bugles sounded, the drums beat to arms,--many of the
rival soldiery shook hands, and parted with expressions of mutual
esteem, and in ten minutes after they were again at the bayonet’s
point.”[91]
Having ascertained the part of the position, and the extent of it
that was occupied by the English brigades, the marshals determined to
direct their undivided energies against that portion of the line, and,
if possible, crush the British divisions by bearing on them with an
overwhelming force. They formed in four columns of attack: the first
was destined against that part of the ground where the British and
Spaniards united; the second against Sherbrooke and Cameron’s brigades;
the third was directed against Mackenzie’s and the Germans; and the
fourth, in great strength, and accompanied by a mass of cavalry, moved
up the valley to the left.
A fire from eighty pieces of artillery[92] announced the forward
movement of the columns, which soon presented themselves, covered by
a cloud of light infantry. A destructive cannonade was borne by the
English brigades patiently--in vain the tirailleurs kept up a biting
fire--but not a shot was returned by the British. Their orders to
reserve their fire were strictly obeyed, and the files steadily and
quietly closed up, for the men were falling by dozens. Their assailants
approached,--their officers called “_En avant!_” and the drums beat
the _pas de charge_. Nothing could be more imposing than the advance,--
nothing more complete than their discomfiture. Within twenty paces
a shattering volley was delivered from the English line,--the word
“_Charge!_” was given--and the bayonet did the rest.
Campbell’s division, on the right, totally defeated the attack, and
charging boldly in return, drove the French back, and captured a
battery of ten guns. The enemy endeavoured to retake them, but the
Spanish cavalry charged home--the cannon remained with the captors,
and the right of the British was victorious every where.
The left attack failed totally. The British cavalry were posted in
the valley where the hostile movement was being made; and Anson’s
brigade, consisting of the 23rd light dragoons, and the 1st King’s
German hussars, were ordered to charge and check the advance. It was
gallantly attempted,--and though in point of fact the charge failed,
and the 23rd were nearly cut to pieces, the daring courage exhibited
under circumstances perfectly desperate, so completely astounded the
enemy, that their attack on the height was abandoned. If there was an
error in the mode that charge was made, it arose from its fearless
gallantry; and under common circumstances, its result would have been
most glorious. Colonel Napier thus describes the affair:
“The ground upon which this brigade was in line is perfectly level, nor
did any visible obstruction appear between it and the columns opposed.
The grass was long, dry, and waving, concealing the fatal chasm that
intervened. One of General Villatte’s columns stood at some distance
to the right of the building occupied by the light troops. These were
directly in front of the 23rd dragoons. Another was formed rather to
the rear, and more in front of the German hussars, on the left of the
line. Such were the immediate objects of the charge.
“For some time the brigade advanced at a rapid pace, without receiving
any obstruction from the enemy’s fire. The line cheered. It was
answered from the hill with the greatest enthusiasm; never was any
thing more exhilarating or more beautiful than the commencement of
this advance. Several lengths in front, mounted on a grey horse,
consequently very conspicuous, rode Colonel Elley. Thus placed, he,
of course, first arrived at the brink of a ravine, which, varying in
width, extended along the whole front of the line. Going half-speed at
the time, no alternative was left him. To have checked his horse, and
given timely warning, would have been impossible. With some difficulty
he cleared it at a bound, and on gaining the opposite bank, endeavoured
by gesture to warn the 23rd of the dangerous ground they had to pass;
but advancing with such velocity, the line was on the verge of the
stream, before his signs could be either understood or attended to.
Under any circumstances this must have been a serious occurrence in a
cavalry charge; but when it is considered that four or five hundred
dragoons were assailing two divisions of infantry, unbroken, and fully
prepared for the onset, to have persevered at all was highly honourable
to the regiment.
“At this moment the enemy, formed in squares, opened his tremendous
fire. A change immediately took place. Horses rolled on the earth;
others were seen flying back dragging their unhorsed riders with them;
the German hussars coolly reined up; the line of the 23rd was broken.
Still the regiment galloped forward. The confusion was increased; but
no hesitation took place in the individuals of this gallant corps. The
survivors rushed forward with, if possible, accelerated pace, passing
between the flank of the square, now one general blaze of fire, and the
building on its left.”
Still the remainder of the 23rd, led on by Major Ponsonby, passing
under this withering fire, assailed and overthrew a regiment of
chasseurs; and, though attacked in turn by a squadron of Westphalian
horse, and some Polish lancers, it cut its way through these, and
riding past the intervals of the infantry, reached the base of the
mountain, where the Spanish corps of observation secured it. Its loss
was awful. In an affair that lasted but a few minutes, nine officers,
twelve sergeants, two hundred rank and file, and two hundred and
twenty-four horses, were rendered _hors de combat_.
On the centre, the attack was made with great steadiness and
determination. The French columns deployed before they attempted to
ascend the heights, and, regardless of broken ground, advanced to
the charge with imposing gallantry. General Sherbrooke, having fully
prepared his men, received them with a volley of musketry, which
staggered their resolution, and the whole division rushing forward with
the bayonet, the French were driven back with prodigious loss. But the
Guards came loosely on. The French observed it; perceived an opening in
the line, and threw in a tremendous fire on the Germans, that caused a
momentary confusion. The affair is thus narrated by an officer of the
48th. The celerity with which a mistake, that to other troops might
have proved fatal, was remedied by the coolness of the commander and
the heroism of his army, could never be better exemplified.
“At this period of the battle, and in nearly their last attempt, the
enemy had been repulsed and followed. The Guards, carried onwards by
victorious excitement, advanced too far, and found themselves assailed
by the French reserve,[93] and mowed down by an overwhelming fire. They
fell back, but as whole sections were swept away their ranks became
disordered, and nothing but their stubborn gallantry prevented a total
_déroute_. Their situation was most critical,--had the French cavalry
charged home, nothing could have saved them. Lord Wellington saw the
danger, and speedily despatched support. A brigade of horse was ordered
up, and our regiment moved from the heights we occupied to assist our
hard-pressed comrades. We came on at double-quick, and formed in the
rear by companies, and through the intervals in our line the broken
ranks of the Guards retreated. A close and well-directed volley from
us arrested the progress of the victorious French, while with amazing
celerity and coolness, the Guards rallied and reformed, and in a few
minutes advanced in turn to support us. As they came on, the men gave a
loud huzza. An Irish regiment to the right answered it with a thrilling
cheer. It was taken up from regiment to regiment, and passed along the
English line; and that wild shout told the advancing enemy that British
valour was indomitable. The leading files of the French halted--
turned--fell back--and never made another effort.”[94]
In every place the British were victorious--and had one forward
movement of the Spaniards been made, Talavera would have proved the
most decisive defeat that ever the French armies on the Peninsula had
sustained--for a rapid flanking march from Cuesta’s right upon the
Alberche must have compromised half the French army. But with troops
so wretchedly disciplined it was impossible to change any previous
formation in face of an enemy: and thus the French marshals were
enabled to retreat in perfect order, with the greater portion of their
baggage, the whole of their wounded, and all their artillery, with the
exception of ten guns taken by Campbell’s brigade, and seven abandoned
in the woods, and afterwards secured.
As victory is ever damped by individual suffering, an event well
calculated to increase the horrors of a battle-field occurred, that
cannot be recollected without the liveliest sorrow for those who
suffered.
From the heat of the weather, the fallen leaves were parched like
tinder, and the grass was rank and dry. Near the end of the engagement
both were ignited by the blaze of some cartridge-papers, and the whole
surface of the ground was presently covered with a sheet of fire.
Those of the disabled who lay on the outskirts of the field managed
to crawl away, or were carried off by their more fortunate companions
who had escaped unhurt; but, unhappily, many gallant sufferers, with
“medicable wounds,” perished in the flames before it was possible to
extricate them.
The battle was ended at about six o’clock, and after that hour scarcely
a shot was heard. Both armies occupied the positions of the morning,
and the British bivouacked on the field, with little food and no
shelter; while the dead lay silently around, and the moans of the
wounded broke sadly on the ear, as they were conveyed all through the
night to the hospitals in Salamanca.
The French were evidently about to retire--but, from a great
inferiority in cavalry, pursuit was impossible. On the next morning,
two of their divisions only were seen beyond the river, and these
retreated on the night of the 31st, and followed the remainder of the
beaten _corps d’armée_.
The British loss was extremely severe--and from the heavy cannonade,
regiments not otherwise exposed, suffered much. The whole force,
exclusive of the Spaniards, did not exceed nineteen thousand, and of
these fully four thousand men were killed and wounded. The Spanish loss
was inconsiderable, as they were never seriously engaged--not reaching
altogether to a thousand _hors de combat_.
The casualties of Joseph Buonaparte’s army it would be difficult to
ascertain with any thing like correctness. It has been stated at six,
eight, and even ten thousand. The intermediate estimate would probably
be the truest--and certainly the French loss exceeded the allied by a
third if not a half.
On the morning after the battle, the light brigade were reinforced
by three splendid regiments, the 43rd, 52nd, and 95th, under General
Craufurd, who reached the army accompanied by a troop of horse
artillery. Its march was remarkable,--sixty-three English miles were
accomplished in twenty-seven hours.[95] Advancing under a burning sun,
over a sandy country, badly supplied with water, with bad rations and
scarcely any bread, the movement was extraordinary. When the weight a
soldier in heavy marching order carries is considered, the distance
these splendid regiments achieved was certainly a surprising effort.
Aware that the armies were in presence of each other, and apprised
that a battle was inevitable, an ardent wish to share the glory of the
field stimulated these soldiers to exertions that hunger, fatigue, and
thirst could not abate; and though efforts almost beyond belief failed
to bring them to the battle-ground before the struggle terminated, the
rapidity of their march, and the fine condition in which they joined
the army, justly obtained for them the admiration of the victors of
Talavera.
OPERATIONS FROM THE BATTLE OF TALAVERA TO THE AFFAIR OF THE COA.
Movements of Soult and Wellington.--Wilson’s affair at Banos.--
Defeats of the Spanish armies.--Fall of Gerona and Hostalrich.--
Rodrigo besieged, and capitulates.--Julian Sanchez.--Unfortunate
attempt by Craufurd.--Probable movements of Massena.
Soult, who had collected thirty-five thousand men, on learning the
defeat of Talavera, made a flank movement to assist Joseph Buonaparte,
and reached Placentia by the pass of Banos. Lord Wellington, on being
apprised of the French marshal’s advance, instantly determined to march
forward and engage him; while Cuesta observed the line of the Tagus,
and protected the stores and hospitals at Talavera. Accordingly, on
the 3rd of August, the British moved to Orapesa; but on that evening
information was received that Soult had cut off Lord Wellington’s
communication with the bridge of Almarez, and that Cuesta was about
to evacuate Talavera. This intelligence made an immediate change in
Lord Wellington’s plans indispensable,--and it became necessary to
cross the Tagus instantly. A passage was effected by the bridge of
Arzabispo,[96] and the whole artillery and stores were safely brought
off, over horrible roads, which hitherto had been deemed impracticable
for any thing but mules and the rude carriages of the country. After a
short stay, the British fell back on Badajoz, early in September.
Cuesta’s sudden retreat from Talavera had not only endangered Lord
Wellington, but nearly caused the total destruction of the Portuguese
corps, commanded by Sir Robert Wilson. In obedience to orders, Sir
Robert had advanced within twelve miles of the capital before he
was recalled--and after narrowly escaping the French armies, by
the ill-judged retirement of the Spanish general from Talavera, he
found himself completely cut off from the Tagus. With considerable
difficulty, the Portuguese general crossed the Sierra de Llana, and
seized the pass of Banos, whither Soult, on falling back from Placentia
to Leon, was rapidly advancing,--nothing remaining for him but to
defend the pass, and risk a battle with numbers immensely superior to
his own. This determination was gallantly carried into effect. After a
desperate resistance of nine hours, Wilson was at last forced from the
position, with a loss of eight hundred men; while the remainder of his
corps dispersed, and succeeded in reaching Castello Branco.[97]
At this period a heavy calamity overtook the Spanish arms. Venegas,
after his defeat at Almonacid, had re-organized his scattered army,
and united it with that of Cuesta, who had been succeeded in the chief
command by Ariezaga. That general absurdly attempted to march at once
on Madrid; and at Toledo encountered a French corps of thirty thousand
men, in readiness to attack him. Although his force nearly doubled
that of the enemy, Ariezaga declined the combat, and endeavoured to
retreat. It was then too late; he was overtaken by Joseph Buonaparte
while crossing the plains of Ocana on the 19th of November, and totally
defeated with a loss of fifteen thousand men.
In a different scene the Spanish arms were equally unfortunate.
Marchand had succeeded Ney, and he, holding his enemy in too great
contempt, engaged Del Parque under circumstances which allowed the Duke
to obtain a temporary advantage. The French fell back only to return
in greater force. An action was fought at Tamames, which terminated at
first, in the Spanish being only driven back, but eventually, in their
being utterly derouted.
Following up this success, Soult, with fifty thousand men, was
despatched by Joseph against the southern provinces, and succeeded in
crossing the Sierra Morena, though the whole range had been strongly
fortified, and thirty thousand men under Ariezaga, intrusted with its
defence. So quickly, and with such trifling loss was this dangerous
operation achieved, that it was a question, whether the marshal was
more indebted for his success to treachery or cowardice. Cadiz was
preserved by the prompt decision of the duke of Albuquerque--the gates
closed against the French--and the city secured against bombardment,
except from one point occupied by Fort Matagorda.
All else had gone favourably for the French. Sebastiani defeated
Ariezaga on his retreat to Grenada--and that city and Malaga, after a
faint effort at defence, fell. Gerona surrendered, after a brave and
protracted resistance.[98] Hostalrich was also taken;[99] and Astorga
capitulated in the middle of April. In fact, the French were everywhere
victorious, and Spain once more lay nearly at their feet. This, as
Colonel Jones observes, was “the second crisis in the affairs of the
Peninsula, as, by a succession of desultory and ill-planned enterprises
on the part of the Spaniards, all their armies had been annihilated,
their fortresses reduced, and three-fourths of the kingdom subdued.”
Affairs certainly wore a gloomy aspect. Napoleon had openly announced
his determination to drive the English into the sea; and his means,
relieved as he was by an alliance with Austria, seemed amply sufficient
to realize the threat. Circumstances had increased his resources, and
left him a large disposable force to direct on Portugal; while Britain,
in the madness of her policy, had wasted her military strength on that
ill-designed and disastrous expedition to the Scheldt.
Fortunately, the British parliament saw--and not too late--the place
where the struggle for European liberty was to be decided. As many of
the Walcheren battalions as could be made effective, were recruited
from the militias and sent out. The Portuguese, in British pay, were
augmented to thirty thousand men--and England at last, turned her
attention to the point on which her political salvation depended--and
where alone the battle of the Continent should be fought.
Napoleon was, at the same time, pouring in constant reinforcements over
the Pyrenees, and strengthening his _corps d’armée_ in every province
on the Peninsula. The corps of Ney, Junot, and Reynier, having united
at Salamanca, comprised seventy thousand men, of which six thousand
were cavalry; and Massena arrived from France, by the express command
of Napoleon, to assume the command-in-chief. A part of the imperial
guard crossed the Pyrenees to reinforce the army of the centre; and
another body received orders to hold itself in readiness to march, and
as it was generally believed, to form a body-guard for the Emperor.
But still, notwithstanding the gloomy prospects of the British, it was
surprising what a number of desertions took place from the enemy’s
corps. Between the commencement of 1810 and the month of May, nearly
five hundred men, chiefly Germans and Italians, arrived, time after
time, at the British outposts; while desertions from the English
regiments were extremely rare.
Early in May, Massena prepared for active operations, and invested
the fortress of Rodrigo--the inferiority of Lord Wellington’s force
rendering any attempt on his part to prevent it impossible. All that
could be done was to observe the enemy closely; and for this purpose,
head-quarters were transferred to Almeida--which, after a few days,
were farther retired to Alverca, six leagues in the rear.
The investment of Rodrigo, which occasional advances of the British had
partially relaxed, became now more serious--for Ney determined that
the place should fall--and taking post on a range of high grounds with
thirty thousand men, he covered effectually the operations carried on
by Junot, whose separate force amounted to forty thousand more.
It was now ascertained that Matagorda[100] had fallen,--that Cadiz,
of course, must yield,--that divisions of the guards had entered
Madrid,--and that Napoleon was absolutely across the Pyrenees. Other
tidings were of better import. Ballasteros was on the Guadalquiver,
and so threatening in his movements, as to require Reynier to be
detached to check him; while the mountain districts were swarming with
guerillas, who cut off every detached party of the French, plundered
their convoys, interrupted their communications, and kept the whole
of their posts constantly on the alert. In Castile particularly,
their audacity was boundless. They had carried off an aide-de-camp of
Kellerman from the gates of Valladolid; and no Frenchman could trust
himself in the open country without a powerful escort.
The siege of Rodrigo continued: a gallant resistance was made, for
the garrison disputed every inch of ground, sallying frequently,
and maintaining a well-directed fire that occasioned the besiegers
considerable loss. The old governor, Hervasti, did wonders--and with
a garrison of four thousand men, and fortifications in bad condition--
many parts of the wall having its breaches only stopped loosely with
rubbish--he kept seventy thousand men at bay, provided with siege
stores in abundance, and a numerous corps of active and scientific
engineers to direct the labours of the thousands who composed their
working parties. On the 30th of June the breach was practicable, and
stormed--but the French were repulsed, after suffering an enormous
loss in killed and wounded.
Though the British army looked on, they could not save the fortress.
The siege was pressed, and the outposts of the two armies came
occasionally in contact with each other.
On the 4th of July the French made a strong _reconnoissance_ with five
regiments of cavalry, a corps of infantry, and some guns. A spirited
affair ensued--and Gallegos and Almeida were given up, and a position
taken by the British in rear of Fort Conception.
Time passed without any affair of moment occurring, until Ciudad
Rodrigo capitulated, after a noble defence[101] of a full month, with
open trenches. Julian Sanchez, finding the place must fall, quitted the
city at midnight with his lancers, and cut his way through the enemy’s
posts.[102]
Ney, it is said, annoyed at the obstinacy with which the fortress held
out, until the breach was found by Hervasti indefensible, and the
troops for the assault were actually formed in the trenches, declined
all terms but unconditional surrender. Massena, however, with more
generosity, conceded the honours of war to the brave and resolute
commandant.
The enemy’s patrols had latterly become exceedingly troublesome,
annoying the villages immediately in front of the British posts, and
plundering them of any thing which could be found. General Craufurd
determined to cut off the next of these marauding parties, and
moved at midnight with six squadrons of cavalry, in the hope that
before daybreak he should get in the rear of the French patrols,
whom he expected to fall in with. In the darkness he lost his way,
and unexpectedly encountered the enemy in ground where his cavalry
were completely arrested by the French infantry. In this vexatious
affair the British suffered considerable loss,--and a very valuable
officer, Colonel Talbot of the 14th Light dragoons, was killed. It was
exceedingly mortifying that two hundred French infantry should escape
from six hundred British dragoons,--and the circumstance occasioned a
great sensation in the coteries of the allied bivouacs.[103]
Consequent on the fall of Rodrigo, numerous movements took place.
It was impossible to guess in what way Massena would follow up his
success, and the best arrangements were made by Lord Wellington to
meet every probable contingency. One of two plans most likely to be
adopted by the French marshal was either, by reinforcing Reynier, to
overpower Hill; or, by uniting his (Reynier’s) corps by the pass of
Perales with his own, attack with oppressive numbers the British on the
Coa. The chief danger, however, seemed to rest in an attack on Hill.
If it succeeded, the position of the Guarda would be untenable, and a
precipitous retreat on Zezere imperative--while on the Coa, there was
every thing in favour of the British. The ground was difficult; three
or four marches would unite Hill’s corps with the main body--and the
Portuguese, it was supposed, would fight bravely in defence of their
own frontier. Every circumstance, therefore, induced the wish that the
French marshal would assail the British in their position on the Coa.
AFFAIR UPON THE COA.--FALL OF ALMEIDA.
Action of the Coa.--Almeida besieged.--Great magazine blows up.--
Place surrenders.--Wellington falls back behind the Mondego.--
Romana defeated by Mortier.
While the siege of Ciudad Rodrigo was in progress, the light division,
under General Craufurd, after falling back on the fifth, took up a
position on the line of the Azava. From the contiguity of the enemy,
the greatest vigilance was necessary. The pickets extended from Carpia
to the junction of the Azava and Agueda; and the outpost duty devolved
upon the Germans, with a part of the 16th light dragoons. Craufurd was
particularly directed to avoid a battle--and, in the event of Soult
advancing, he was instructed to give way at once, and retire across the
river. A strict obedience to the letter of his orders was not among the
qualities for which Craufurd was remarkable; and whether he supposed
from his position being under the guns of Almeida, that it would be
respected by the French, or that he had determined to resist the
forward movement of the enemy, although apprised on the 21st that the
French were advancing, and that Fort Conception had been abandoned and
blown up, he declined passing the Coa, and formed the light division in
line, his left resting on Almeida, and his right and rear covered by
the river.
At break of day on the 24th, an entire corps, amounting to eighteen
thousand men, of whom three thousand five hundred were cavalry, with
a powerful artillery, attacked the centre of the position.[104] The
pickets between Villamula and Almeida were driven back--and retired
before overpowering numbers, skirmishing in beautiful order, and
disputing every inch of ground. An extensive plain stretched from
Villamula to the Coa, intersected by walls and enclosures, and, of
course, afforded a fine field for light infantry manœuvres. Of this
advantage the British availed themselves; and every fence and hedge
were obstinately maintained, until, oppressed by numbers, they were
reluctantly yielded to the enemy.
The centre was now seriously attacked, and though the 95th and
Portuguese caçadores fought gallantly, Craufurd perceived that he could
not hold his ground, and determined to cross the river, beyond which
his cavalry and guns had already retired. A bridge over the Coa was the
only route by which he could retreat--and it lay completely exposed
to a sweeping fire from the French artillery. However, there was no
alternative; the infantry moved off in echelons by its left,--and
though furiously assailed, succeeded in crossing to the other bank.
The irregularity of the ground, and the frequency and height of the
enclosures, rendered an orderly retreat almost impracticable; but the
operation was boldly and coolly executed. To prevent the French from
forcing the bridge, and allow time for the regiments to reform, the
43rd and 95th were drawn up in front of the pass, and directed to
oppose to the last every attempt that the French should make to cross
it.[105] The enemy seemed equally determined; and having collected an
imposing force, a fierce and well-sustained attack produced one of the
most desperate and sanguinary encounters which the annals of modern
warfare record.
“The French skirmishers, swarming on the right bank, opened a biting
fire, which was returned as bitterly; the artillery on both sides
played across the ravine, the sounds were repeated by numberless
echoes, and the smoke, rising slowly, resolved itself into an immense
arch, spanning the whole chasm, and sparkling with the whirling fuzees
of the flying shells. The enemy gathered fast and thickly; his columns
were discovered forming behind the high rocks, and a dragoon was seen
to try the depth of the stream above, but two shots from the 52nd
killed horse and man, and the carcases, floating between the hostile
bands, showed that the river was impassable. The monotonous tones of
a French drum were then heard, and in another instant, the head of a
noble column was at the long narrow bridge. A drummer and an officer,
in a splendid uniform, leaped forward together, and the whole rushed
on with loud cries. The depth of the ravine at first deceived the
soldiers’ aim, and two-thirds of the passage was won ere an English
shot had brought down an enemy; yet a few paces onwards the line of
death was traced, and the whole of the leading French section fell as
one man! Still the gallant column pressed forward, but no foot could
pass that terrible line; the killed and wounded rolled together until
the heap rose nearly even with the parapet, and the living mass behind
melted away rather than give back.
“The shouts of the British now rose loudly, but they were confidently
answered, and, in half an hour, a second column, more numerous than
the first, again crowded the bridge. This time, however, the range was
better judged, and ere half the distance was won, the multitude was
again torn, shattered, dispersed and slain; ten or twelve men only
succeeded in crossing, and took shelter under the rocks at the brink of
the river.”[106]
Night came--and the light division, after its heroic resistance
against an overwhelming force, retreated, under cover of the darkness,
to a position three leagues from Averca. The night march was made in
perfect order; the artillery brought safely off; the field equipage
removed; and though Massena, in his despatches, spoke of colours and
cannon having been taken, not a trophy nor a gun was abandoned by
Craufurd, and a loss fully as severe as what he suffered, was inflicted
on the enemy in return. Colonel Hall, who had arrived but the preceding
day from England to join the 43rd, fell in this affair--and about
three hundred and fifty were returned as killed, wounded, and missing.
Never did British troops fight with more gallantry, and at a greater
disadvantage; and if Craufurd--as it must be admitted by all that
he did so--imprudently brought on an action, no officer, under more
trying circumstances, could have fought himself more ably out of a
scrape. That Craufurd was, in a military view, to blame, in permitting
himself to be overtaken on the right bank of the river, is true; and to
waste his strength in an unnecessary combat, from which no advantage
could result, was equally injudicious. But no affair could have been
more brilliant than the encounter on the Coa; and while a useless
expenditure of life was to be deplored, night never fell upon a braver
field, or closed more gallant efforts, than those made by the light
regiments of the British throughout that long and doubtful day.
On the 25th and 26th, the French appeared on the left bank of the Coa--
but it was doubtful whether they would sit down before Almeida, or
merely mask it with a corps, and push forward at once into Portugal
with all their disposable force. Lord Wellington, in consequence,
decided on falling back to the gorges of the Estrella, where he could
command a strong position, in the event of Massena’s advance forcing on
an engagement. Orders were accordingly issued for the cavalry to move
to Alverca; while the light division marched to Celerica, the first to
Penhancas, the third to Carapentra, and the fourth continued on the
Guarda, to keep the communication open with Hill’s corps at Alalay.
On the 14th of August, the French regularly sate down before Almeida,
and broke ground on the ensuing day. On the 26th, at daylight, eleven
batteries opened on the fortress, with a fire from sixty-five pieces
of siege artillery. As Almeida was strongly garrisoned, well provided
and stored, and under the command of an English governor, strong
expectations were entertained that its resistance would far exceed that
of Ciudad Rodrigo, which in every point was the feebler fortress of the
two. But these high hopes were fated to be miserably disappointed.
On the evening upon which the French batteries had opened, in
transferring ammunition from the grand magazine to the ramparts, a
shell dropped into a tumbril that was leaving the door of the building,
and igniting the powder with which it was loaded, the tumbril blew
up, and most unfortunately communicating with the depôt, produced a
frightful explosion. The loss of life was, of course, great--numbers
both of the garrison and the inhabitants perished; half the guns were
dismounted; the works shaken to their foundations; and the ammunition
reduced to some fifty barrels of powder. Treachery also was at work;
the Portuguese officers in a body, headed by the second in command,
proceeded to the governor[107] and insisted that he should surrender;
and the major of artillery, who had been sent out to propose terms,
proved a traitor.[108] He acquainted the French marshal with the full
extent of the misfortune occasioned by the explosion; and Massena,
perceiving that Almeida was at his mercy, of course dictated what terms
he pleased.
On entering the ruined fortress, the French general dismissed the
militia to their homes, and having paraded the troops of the line,
tendered them his protection, provided they joined the invading
army, and took service under Napoleon. “To the eternal disgrace of
the persons thus tampered with, all, both officers and men, embraced
the proposal, and all passed over, without the slightest apparent
reluctance, to the ranks of the enemy.”[109]
When the fall of Almeida was known, Lord Wellington, who had advanced
when Massena broke ground, fell back to the position on which he
had previously retired; and anxious to get into closer communication
with General Hill, he retreated leisurely on Gouvea. By this movement
he checked any attempt that might have been intended from Sabugal by
Covilhos, and effectually secured the fortified position of Zezere from
being turned.
Yet the situation of the allies was truly critical. The fall of Almeida
permitted Massena to advance with confidence--while in numbers, the
French marshal was immensely superior;[110] and of the allied force, a
great portion of the Portuguese had never been under fire. The news of
Romana’s defeat by Mortier, made matters still more alarming; as the
latter might come up in sufficient time to threaten the right of the
allies by Alcantara or Abrantes.
But Massena’s movements ended this suspense--and Wellington was about
to achieve one of his most splendid victories.
BUSACO.
British position.--Movements.--Disposition of the Allies.--Battle
of Busaco.--Casualties of both armies.
It was impossible to avoid a battle. Wellington crossed the Mondego,
while the French were concentrated at Viseu. The first division had
been placed in observation of the Oporto road,--the light, on the
road of Viseu; but the French having passed the Criz, Lord Wellington
changed his position, and fell back upon the heights of Busaco.[111]
The mountain range, upon which the British retired, was about eight
miles long; its right touching the Mondego, and the left stretching
over very difficult ground to the Sierra de Caramula. There was a road
cresting the Busaco ridge, and a ford at Pena Cova, communicating with
the Murcella ridge--and the face of the position was steep, rugged and
well-defended by the allied artillery. Along the front a sweeping fire
could be maintained--and on a part of the summit cavalry might act if
necessary.
To an assailing enemy, a position like that of Busaco must present
most serious difficulties; and, therefore, it was generally believed
that Massena would not risk a battle. But Lord Wellington thought
differently; and coolly added, “If he does, I shall beat him.”
Pack’s division had fallen back on the 22nd; and on the 23rd Massena
drove in the British cavalry. The third division took a position at
Antonio de Contara, and the fourth at the convent; while the light
division bivouacked in a pine wood.[112] On the 24th it fell back four
miles, and some skirmishing of no particular importance took place.
The 25th had nearly brought on a second affair between Craufurd and
the enemy. Immense masses of the French were moving rapidly forward,
and the cavalry had interchanged a pistol fire, when Lord Wellington
arrived, and instantly retired the division. Not a moment could
be lost; the enemy came on with amazing rapidity, but the British
rear-guard behaved with its usual determination; and after a series
of quick and beautifully executed manœuvres, secured their retreat
on the position. Both armies that evening bivouacked in each other’s
presence--and sixty-five thousand French infantry, covered by a mass
of voltigeurs, formed in the British front; while scarcely fifty
thousand of the allies were in line on the Sierra de Busaco, and these,
of necessity, were extended over a surface which their numbers were
quite incompetent to defend.
Ney and Reynier agreed that the moment of their arrival afforded the
best chance for attacking Wellington successfully--and Massena was
informed that the allied troops were only getting into their ground,
and that their dispositions were accordingly imperfect. But the marshal
came up too late; for all the arrangements of Wellington had been
coolly and admirably effectuated.
The British brigades were continuously posted. On the right, General
Hill’s division was stationed. Leith, on his left, prolonged the line,
with the Lusitanian legion in reserve. Picton joined Leith, and was
supported by a brigade of Portuguese. The brigades of Spencer crested
the ridge, and held the ground between the third division and the
convent; and the fourth division closed the extreme left, covering
the mountain path of Milheada, with part of the cavalry on a flat,
and a regiment of dragoons in reserve on the summit of the Sierra.
Pack’s division formed the advanced guard to the right, and extended
half-way down the hill; while in a hollow below the convent, the light
brigade and Germans were thrown out. The whole front was covered with
skirmishers--and on every point, from which the artillery could
effectively range, the guns were placed in battery.
While these dispositions were being completed, evening had come on;
both armies establishing themselves for the night, and the French
lighting fires. Some attempts of the enemy to introduce their
tirailleurs, in broken numbers, among the wooded hollows in front of
the light division, indicated an intention of a night attack, and
the rifles and caçadores drove them back. But no attempt was made--
and a mild and warm atmosphere allowed the troops to bivouac without
inconvenience on the battle-ground. A few hours of comparative
stillness passed--one hundred thousand men slept under the canopy
of heaven; and before the first faint glimmering of light, all stood
quietly to arms, and prepared for a bloody day.
Shrouded by the grey mist that still was lingering on the Sierra, the
enemy advanced. Ney, with three columns, moved forward in front of the
convent, where Craufurd’s division was posted; while Reynier, with
two divisions, approached by less difficult ground the pickets of the
third division, before the feeble light permitted his movements to be
discovered. With their usual impetuosity the French pushed forward,
and the British as determinately opposed them. Under a heavy fire of
grape and musketry the enemy topped the heights; and on the left of
the third division, gained the summit of the mountain--their leading
battalions securing themselves among the rocks, and threatening the
ridge of the Sierra. The disorder of a Portuguese regiment, the 8th,
afforded them also a partial advantage. But the fire of two guns with
grape opened on their flank; in front, a heavy fusilade was maintained;
while, advancing over the crown of the height, the 88th and four
companies of the 45th charged furiously with the bayonet, and with
an ardour that could not be resisted. Both French and English were
intermixed in a desperate _mêlée_--both fought hand to hand--both
went struggling down the mountain--the head of the French column
annihilated--and covering the descent, from the crown to the valley,
with heaps of its dead and dying.[113]
When a part of the Sierra had been gained, Leith perceiving that the
French had occupied it, moved the 38th on their right flank, with the
Royals in reserve. The 9th formed line under a heavy fire, and, without
returning a shot, fairly deforced the French grenadiers from the rocks
with the bayonet. The mountain crest was now secure, Reynier completely
repulsed, and Hill, closing up to support, prevented any attempt being
made to recover it.
The greater difficulty of the ground rendered Ney’s attacks still less
successful, even for a time, than Reynier’s had proved. Craufurd’s
disposition of the light division was masterly. Under a dipping of the
ground between the convent and plateau, the 43rd and 52nd were formed
in line; while higher up the hill, and closer to the convent, the
Germans were drawn up. The rocks in front formed a natural battery for
the guns; and the whole face of the Sierra was crowded with riflemen
and caçadores. Morning had scarcely dawned, when a sharp and scattered
musketry was heard among the broken hollows of the valley that
separated the rival armies--and presently the French appeared in three
divisions--Loisson’s mounting the face of the Sierra--Marchand’s
inclining leftwards, as if it intended to turn the right flank of the
light division--and the third held in reserve.
The brigade of General Simon led the attack--and reckless of the
constant fusilade of the British light troops, and the sweeping fire
of the artillery, which literally ploughed through the advancing
column, from its leading to its last section, the enemy came steadily
and quickly on. The horse-artillery worked their guns with amazing
rapidity--delivering round after round with such beautiful precision,
that the wonder was, how any body of men could advance under such
a withering and incessant cannonade. But nothing could surpass the
gallantry of the assailants. On they came--and in a few moments, their
skirmishers, “breathless, and begrimed with powder,” topped the ridge
of the Sierra. The British guns were instantly retired--the French
cheers arose--and, in another second, their column topped the height.
General Craufurd, who had coolly watched the progress of the advance,
called on the 43rd and 52nd to “Charge!” A cheer that pealed for miles
over the Sierra answered the order, and “eighteen hundred British
bayonets went sparkling over the brow of the hill.” The head of the
French column was overwhelmed in an instant; “both its flanks were
lapped over by the English wings,”[114] while volley after volley, at
a few yards’ distance, completed its destruction--and marked with
hundreds of its dead and dying, prostrate on the face of the Sierra,
the course of its murderous discomfiture. Some of the light troops
continued slaughtering the broken columns nearly to the bottom of the
hill, until Ney’s guns opened from the opposite side, and covered the
escape of relics of Simon’s division.
And yet the bravery of the French merited a better result--no troops
advanced more gallantly; and when the British steel was glittering in
their faces, as with resistless force the fatal rush was made over
the crest of the Sierra, every man of the first section of the French
raised and discharged his musket,[115] although before his finger
parted from the trigger, he knew that an English bayonet would be
quivering in his heart. Simon was wounded and left upon the field, and
his division so totally shattered as to be unable to make any second
attempt.
On the right, Marchand’s brigades having gained the cover of a pine
wood, threw out their skirmishers and endeavoured to surmount the
broken surface that the hill everywhere presented. Pack held them
in check--while the Guards, formed on the brow of the Sierra, were
seen in such imposing force, as to render any attempt on the position
useless. Craufurd’s artillery flanked the pine wood, and maintained
a rapid fire; when, finding his troops sinking under an unprofitable
slaughter, Ney, after the effort of an hour, retired behind the rocks.
The roar of battle was stilled.[116] Each side removed their wounded
men; and the moment the firing ceased, both parties amicably
intermingled, and sought and brought off their disabled comrades.
When this labour of humanity was over, a French company having taken
possession of a village within pistol-shot of General Craufurd, stoutly
refused to retire when directed. The commander of the light division
turned his artillery on the post, overwhelmed it in an instant with his
cannonade, and when the guns ceased firing, sent down a few companies
of the 43rd to clear the ruins of any whom his grape might have left
alive,--the obstinacy of the French officer having drawn upon him,
most justly, the anger of the fiery leader of the light division.
The loss sustained by Massena in his attempt upon the British position
at Busaco was immense.[117] A general of brigade, Graind’orge, and
above a thousand men, were killed; Foy, Merle, and Simon, with four
thousand five hundred, were wounded; and nearly three hundred taken
prisoners. The allied casualties did not exceed twelve hundred and
fifty men, of which nearly one half were Portuguese.
No battle witnessed more gallant efforts on the part of the enemy than
Busaco; and that the British loss should be so disproportionate to that
suffered by the French, can readily be conceived from the superior
fire, particularly of cannon, which the position of Busaco enabled Lord
Wellington to employ. The Portuguese troops behaved admirably--their
steadiness and bravery were as creditable to the British officers who
disciplined and led them on, as it was satisfactory to the Commander of
the Allies--proving that the Lusitanian levies, when incorporated with
his island soldiery, were an overmatch for the best troops in Europe.
RETREAT TO TORRES VEDRAS.
Massena’s flank movement occasions Wellington to retire from
Busaco.--Proclamation to the Portuguese.--It meets with general
obedience.--Beautiful order of the retreat.--Trant captures the
French hospitals at Coimbra.--Massena’s supposed ignorance of the
lines.--Position of Torres Vedras.
Massena had suffered too heavily in his attempt on the British
position, to think of attacking the Sierra de Busaco a second time.
Early on the 28th he commenced quietly retiring his advanced brigades,
and in the evening, was reported to be marching with all his divisions
on the Malhada road, after having set fire to the woods to conceal
his movements, which was evidently intended to turn the British left.
Orders were instantly given by Lord Wellington to abandon the Sierra;
and at night-fall, Hill’s division was again thrown across the river--
the remainder of the brigades, defiling to their left, moved by the
shorter road on Coimbra, and resumed the line of the Mondego on the
30th.
The celebrated proclamation to the Portuguese nation was issued by Lord
Wellington previous to the commencement of his retreat. Determined to
destroy any hope the French might have entertained of subsisting their
armies on the resources of the country, the people were emphatically
desired, on the approach of the enemy, to abandon their dwellings,
drive off their cattle, destroy provisions and forage, and leave
the villages and towns deserted of inhabitants, and devastated of
everything which could be serviceable to the invaders. Generally, these
orders were obeyed with a devotion that seems remarkable. Property was
wasted or concealed[118]--and the shrine and cottage alike abandoned
by their occupants--the peasant deserting the hearth where he had
been nursed, and the monk the altar where he had worshipped from his
boyhood. The fugitives accompanied the army on its march,--and when it
halted in the lines, one portion of the wanderers proceeded to Lisbon,
while the greater number crossed the Tagus, to seek on its southern
shores a temporary retreat from those who had obliged them to sacrifice
their possessions, and fly from the dwellings of their fathers.[119]
Nothing could surpass the fine attitude maintained by the British
in their retreat on Torres Vedras, and every march was leisurely
executed, as if no enemy were in the rear. By the great roads of
Leiria and Espinal the receding movement was effected; and, with the
exception of some affairs of cavalry, and a temporary embarrassment
in passing through Condeixa, occasioned by a false alarm and narrow
streets, a retreat of nearly two hundred miles was effected with as
little confusion as attends an ordinary march. No portion of the field
equipage--no baggage whatever, was captured--and still more strange,
a greater number of prisoners were taken from the pursuers than lost
by the pursued--a fact, in the history of retreats, without a parallel.
Whether the severity of the weather by which the roads were dreadfully
cut up, or the privations which his army experienced in traversing an
exhausted country, repressed his activity, Massena certainly did not
press the British with the vigour that might have been expected from an
army so immensely superior in its numbers, and particularly in cavalry,
an arm so effective in pursuit.
The French had formed an imperfect estimate of the magnificent position
upon which Wellington was retiring. In their rear, the allies had
abundant supplies--while the French advance led through an exhausted
district, an unfriendly population behind, and a host of irregulars
around, waiting an opportunity to become actively aggressive. In the
rear of the Prince of Esling, Trant, on the Coimbra road, had five
thousand militia--Wilson was at Busaco, in similar strength--while
from the north, Silviera was advancing with fifteen thousand men, and
Bacillar with eight thousand.
The French marshal soon felt the activity of these partisans. Supposing
that Coimbra was safe from aggression, he had left his hospitals there,
as he believed, in perfect security, protected by a company of marines
attached to the Imperial Guard. Trant, by a sudden and well-executed
march, threw himself between Coimbra and the advancing army, and
captured the entire of the hospitals and stores, with the marines left
for their defence.[120]
It was said that the French were quite ignorant both of the position
of the lines and the extent of their defences--and that they were
unprepared for finding themselves totally barred from farther effort
by works, embracing eight leagues of country, and stretching from the
Tagus to the ocean. But that such an undertaking as fortifying Torres
Vedras--a herculean task requiring the labour of thousands to effect,
and an enormous expenditure of money and stores to carry on--that
this could have proceeded to its completion, without its progress being
reported to the invaders, is nothing but a mere romance, and cannot for
a moment be credited.[121]
Massena, after a three days’ _reconnaissance_, and under the advice
of his chief engineers, abandoned all hope of forcing this singular
position--and when Torres Vedras is described, it will be admitted
that the marshal’s decision was correct.
These celebrated lines, constructed to protect an embarkation should it
be necessary, and cover the capital from attack, were planned by Lord
Wellington, and executed chiefly by Colonel Fletcher and Captain Jones
of the engineers--and to describe them, the features of the country
over which they extended must be briefly noticed.
The Peninsula on which Lisbon stands, is traversed by two lofty
heights, which stretch from the Tagus to the ocean, varying in altitude
and abruptness, and running in a parallel direction, at a distance of
from six to nine miles. Through the passes in these mountains, the
four great roads that communicate between Lisbon and the interior run.
The line on the Sierra next the capital is the stronger of the two.
It commences at Ribumar, on the Rio Lorenzo, runs by Mafra, Cabeca de
Montachique, and the pass of Bucellas, and descends precipitously on
the plain, about an English league from the Tagus. This latter is the
only weak point--and every means that skill and labour could effect,
was exhausted to fortify every spot that Nature had left open, and thus
render Torres Vedras--its extent considered--the strongest position
in Europe.[122]
“In front of Via Longa, upon an eminence rising from the plain, at
a short distance from the river, six redoubts were constructed, so
situated, in consequence of the nearly circular formation of the
plateau, as to command the approaches in every direction within the
range of their artillery. Three of these immediately domineered the
great route from Alhandra to Lisbon, to the right of which, upon
a knoll, in front of the town of Povoa, another work was formed,
sweeping the communication in the direction of Quintella. On the bank
of the Tagus, a redoubt, armed with four twelve-pounders, terminated
the line at its eastern extremity. Fifty-nine redoubts, containing
two hundred and thirty-two pieces of cannon, estimated to require
seventeen thousand five hundred men to garrison them, protected the
weaker points, enfiladed the roads, or swept the ascent to the escarped
mountains in the range of this extended position, occupying a front of
twenty-two miles.”
“The front line had been originally intended for one of isolated posts,
rather than an unbroken extent of defensive ground, which it was
subsequently made. It rests also on the Atlantic at the mouth of the
Lozandra; its weakest point being in the rear of the village of Runa,
where it stretches to Monte Agraça, and ample care was taken to correct
this natural defect.”
“On the Sierra, in the rear of Sobral, was constructed a redoubt of
great magnitude, armed with twenty-five pieces of artillery, and
prepared for a garrison of one thousand men. This formidable work,
from its commanding and centrical situation, was the constant daily
resort of Lord Wellington. There he came every morning, and continued
until it was ascertained that no hostile movement had taken place, and
until light permitted a _reconnaissance_ of the enemy’s troops encamped
opposite. From the redoubt on Monte Agraça, the line continued,
crossing the valleys of Arruda and Calhandriz, until it rested on the
Tagus at Alhandra.”
“Nature and art had rendered the ground from Calhandriz to the river
particularly strong; but to make the defences still more formidable,
and to form an intermediate obstruction, redoubts were thrown up
extending to the rear, nearly at right angles with the front line.
These swept the whole portion of the valley, by which a column of
infantry must penetrate, even had it succeeded in forcing an entrance
into the ravine. Sixty-nine works of different descriptions fortified
this line; in these were mounted three hundred and nineteen pieces of
artillery, requiring upwards of eighteen thousand men to garrison them;
and the extent, in a direct line from flank to flank, was twenty-five
miles.”
Colonel Leith Hay explains the mode in which those formidable lines
would have been defended. “It has been erroneously supposed that the
regular army was, in the event of an attack, to occupy the redoubts and
other works in the lines, or, at all events, that a large proportion of
the troops would of necessity defend these temporary fortifications. In
this calculation of probable circumstances, no British soldiers, with
the exception of artillery, would have acted within their walls. Some
Portuguese infantry, with the militia and ordonanza, were destined to
compose the garrisons; while the whole allied army, numerous, brilliant
in equipment, high in spirit, confident in its great commander, was
prepared to move in every direction to cover the summits of mountains,
to descend into valleys, or to pour in torrents on any luckless
column, that with diminished numbers might have forced past the almost
impenetrable obstacles of this grand position.”
“In addition to the works thrown up in either line, or in the
intervening points of communication, rivers were obstructed in
their course, flooding the valleys and rendering the country swampy
and impassable; trenches were cut from whence infantry, perfectly
protected, might fire on the advancing columns of an enemy; these being
also flanked by artillery, sweeping the approaches to them in every
direction. Mountains were scarped as above stated; abattis of the most
formidable description, either closed the entrance to ravines, impeded
an approach to the works, or blocked up roads, in which deep cuts were
also marked out for excavation; routes conducting from the front were
rendered impracticable; others within the lines either repaired, or
formed to facilitate communication, to admit the passage of artillery,
or reduce the distance by which the troops had to move for the purposes
of concentration or resistance; bridges were mined, and prepared for
explosion. Telegraphs erected at Alhandra, Monte Agraça, Socorra,
Torres Vedras, and in the rear of Ponte de Rol, rapidly communicated
information from one extremity of the line to the other. These signal
stations were in charge of seamen from the fleet in the Tagus. To
complete the barriers, palisades, platforms, and planked bridges,
leading into the works, fifty thousand trees were placed at the
disposal of the engineer department, during the three months ending on
the 7th of October, 1810.”
“The cannon in the works were supplied by the Portuguese government.
Cars, drawn by oxen, transported twelve-pounders where wheels had never
previously rolled. Above three thousand officers and artillerymen
of the country assisted in arming the redoubts, and were variously
employed in the lines. At one period, exclusive of these, of the
British engineers, artificers, or infantry soldiers, seven thousand
peasantry worked as labourers in the completion of an undertaking only
to have been accomplished under the most favourable circumstances,
both with regard to cordiality of assistance, neighbouring arsenals, a
British fleet in the Tagus, constant uninterrupted communication with
a great capital, a regular remuneration to the labourers, an anxious
and deep interest in the result to be accomplished by the assistance of
the works in progress, and, above all, an intelligence and firmness in
command that could at the same time extract the greatest benefits from
these combinations, and urge exertion where it appeared to relax.”
Such was the matchless position to which Wellington retired--and the
allied army thus occupied the several posts. Monte Agraça was held
by Pack, and a Portuguese brigade. The fifth division encamped on
the reverse of the heights, behind the grand redoubt. Hill occupied
Alhandra. The light division was posted at Arriada. The first, fourth,
and sixth, were at Zibriera, Ribaldiera, and Runa; their right in
contact with Leith; their left with Picton--who, with the third
division, occupied Torres Vedras, and defended the Zezandra.
RETREAT OF MASSENA.
Massena retires from before the lines.--Falls back upon the
frontier.--Operations during the French retreat.--Massena driven
from Portugal.--Outrages committed by the French.--British
head-quarters established at Villa Formosa.
After a three days’ _reconnaissance_, nothing could surpass the chagrin
and surprise that Junot exhibited to his staff, when, by personal
observation, he had ascertained the full extent of the defences, with
which British skill had perfected what nature had already done so much
for. To attempt forcing Torres Vedras, must have ensured destruction;
and nothing remained, but to take a position in its front, and observe
that immense chain of posts, which it was found impossible to carry.
During the _reconnaissance_ of the French marshal, an advanced
redoubt, held by the 71st, had been furiously assaulted. But the
attempt terminated in a severe repulse;--and in place of carrying the
post, the French were driven from a field-work, thrown up upon ground
which they called their own. Nor were Massena’s surveys of the lines
accomplished without attracting observation. The movement of a numerous
staff excited the attention of the allies; and, on one occasion, when
approaching closer than prudence would warrant, a round shot fell so
near the marshal’s horse, that the _reconnaissance_ was terminated most
abruptly, and the lines, for the future, were respected.
The Prince of Esling persevered, while any resources could be procured,
in remaining before Torres Vedras. But though by cavalry patrols on the
right bank of the Tagus and the detachment of a division to Thomar,
he had enlarged the scope of country over which his foragers could
operate, supplies failed fast; and even French ingenuity[123] failed
in discovering concealed magazines. Nothing remained but to retire from
cantonments where provisions were no longer procurable--on the morning
of the 15th, the French army broke up--and, favoured by thick weather,
retired in beautiful order on Santarem and Torres Novas.
Wellington, on discovering the regressive movement of Massena, promptly
despatched a division on either route, and speedily put his whole
army in pursuit, leaving the lines secured by a sufficient force. He
marched on the routes of the Mondega and the Zezere, it being uncertain
by which of these roads the French should retreat from Portugal. The
Zezere, however, was supposed to be the line. Hill was pushed over
the Tagus, to march on Abrantes; and Lord Wellington, believing that
Santarem was occupied only by a rear-guard, notwithstanding the nature
of the ground rendered an attack difficult and hazardous, resolved to
force it without delay.[124]
Every disposition was made; but fortunately the allied commander
having remarked appearances, which induced him to suspect that recent
field-works had been thrown up, on a closer examination detected such
powerful means of defence, as occasioned him to countermand the order
for advancing. Both armies went into cantonments; the allies with
head-quarters at Cartaxo,--the French having chosen Torres Novas for
theirs.
Little of military interest occurred for some time, excepting that
the Portuguese militias, under their English officers, were incessant
in harassing the French. Grant, with the corps he commanded, obliged
Gardanne to fall back with the loss of his baggage, while attempting to
protect a convoy of stores and ammunition to the French posts on the
Zezere. But this was counterbalanced by a reverse of fortune. Too much
excited by success, a part of the Portuguese ordonanza[125] attacked
Claparede at Trarnosa. The result was what might have been expected
from a collision with regular troops; they were severely checked, and
driven with considerable loss across the Douro.
Time passed on,--nothing of moment occurred,--the British remaining
quiet, in expectation of a reinforcement of troops from England. A
strong _reconnaissance_, however, was made by the French at Rio Mayor,
under the command of Junot, who was wounded on the occasion. A period
of inaction succeeded--and each army rested in the other’s presence.
The first movements that took place were an advance on Punhete by the
allies, and the sudden retirement from Santarem by the French. Massena
chose the left bank of the Mondego as his line of retreat, falling back
on Guarda and Almeida. Wellington followed promptly; and on the 9th,
Massena having halted in front of Pombal, the allies hastened forward
to attack him. But the French Marshal declined an action, and fell back
pressed closely by the British light troops, and covered by a splendid
rear-guard which he had formed from his choicest battalions, and
intrusted to the command of Marshal Ney.
At Redinha, the French made a daring stand; and though the heights on
the left and right were simultaneously carried, Ney resolutely held
his ground, until masses of British infantry coming up, obliged him to
retire. This he effected by the ford and bridge of Redinha, masking his
retreat by the fire of his musketry. By this daring halt he secured
a start of many hours for the sick and wounded, who were moving on
Condeixa with the baggage and field equipage of the army.
Massena continued retiring by Ponte Murcella, while Clausel moved by
Ponte Cobreta, and kept his communications open with Loison, and the
eighth corps.
Here, Massena had nearly been surprised. Believing himself perfectly
secure, he was arranging a leisurely retreat, when the third division,
which had passed the mountain by a difficult path, suddenly appeared in
the rear of his left. An instant movement was necessary to save himself
from being cut off from the road to Casa Nova; for the rapid advance of
the British light troops had nearly succeeded in making Massena himself
a prisoner.
The pursuit was actively continued,--in the eagerness of advancing,
the light division had been imprudently pushed forward--and in the
haze of the morning, the 52nd came unexpectedly in front of an entire
corps. Of course, they were briskly attacked; and their being engaged,
brought on a general affair, in which the whole light division took
part, and thus prevented a flank movement by the third and fourth
divisions from being effected, that promised a successful result. Ney
retired in beautiful order by echelons of divisions, contesting every
bridge and pass; and, under a constant fire of horse artillery, and the
unremitting pursuit of light troops, he retreated safely on Miranda de
Corvo, and united himself with the main body and cavalry of Montbrun.
Massena continued his retreat by the line of road between the Mondego
and the mountains, while Ney again took a position at Fonte d’Aronce.
There Lord Wellington attacked him vigorously. The third division,
with their usual impetuosity, forced the French left, and the horse
artillery completed their disorder. They passed the Ceira in great
confusion,--many being trampled down upon the bridge, and more drowned
in attempting to cross the river where the water was not fordable. The
casualties on the part of the allies were trifling, but the French loss
was estimated at five hundred men.
Ney, having blown up the bridge, necessarily delayed the British
advance, while the engineers were throwing another over the Ceira.
Immediately, Wellington passed his army over, and Massena had to
fall back, and take up a position on the Sierra de Moìta. From this,
however, he was quickly driven, and obliged to abandon any stores
and baggage that were difficult of transport: while a number of his
stragglers fell into the hands of the allies and Portuguese irregulars,
which latter incessantly annoyed him by hanging on his route, and
threatening his flanks and rear.
Having gained the position of the Guarda, Massena appeared determined
to make a stand; but his opponent was equally resolved to expel him
from the Portuguese territory, and preparations were made to effect it
at daybreak.
The morning was extremely foggy--Beckwith’s brigade of the light
division prematurely crossed the river, and the rifles, in extended
order, and the 43rd in column, mounted the heights. The French pickets
were driven in--but when the haze suddenly dispersed, the British
light troops found themselves immediately in front of Regnier’s entire
corps. Colonel Beckwith charged and won the height; but here he was
furiously assailed,--and on front and flank, attacked by overwhelming
numbers, while the fire of two guns at musket distance, poured in a
deadly discharge of grape-shot. Fortunately, a stone enclosure enabled
him to obtain a temporary shelter from his assailants,--and the 43rd
opened and sustained, from behind the low wall that covered them, a
quick and murderous fire.[126] The remainder of the light division came
on boldly to the relief of their comrades--and again Beckwith resumed
the offensive, and, charging from the inclosure, captured a howitzer
that had been advanced by the French to the brow of the hill. The fifth
division had carried the bridge of Sabugal, and the third having gained
ground on Regnier’s right flank, obliged him to retire rapidly on
Alfayates, leaving the battle-field in possession of the allies.
Had not the action of the Coa sufficiently established the character of
the light division, that of Sabugal would have conferred on it a proud
and well-deserved distinction. Lord Wellington described it as “one of
the most glorious actions that British troops were ever engaged in,”--
and nothing could surpass the extraordinary daring with which a force,
so immensely inferior, not only held its position when for a time
isolated and unsupported, but afterwards, becoming assailants, captured
and secured the trophy of their victory.
On the 5th of April, Massena crossed the frontier. Portugal was now
without the presence of a Frenchman, except the garrison of Almeida,
and those who had been taken prisoners in the numerous affairs between
the British light troops and the enemy’s rear-guard. Nothing could
be bolder or more scientific than the whole course of Wellington’s
operations, from the time he left the lines, until Massena “changed his
position from the Zezere to the Agueda.”[127] Yet, it must be admitted,
that the French retreat all through was conducted with consummate
ability. Ney commanded the rear-guard with excellent judgment; his
positions were admirably selected; and when assailed, they were
defended as might have been expected from one who had already obtained
the highest professional reputation.
In a military view, Massena’s retreat was admirable, and reflected
infinite credit on the generals who directed it; but, in a moral
one, nothing could be more disgraceful. The country over which the
retreating columns of the French army passed, was marked by bloodshed
and devastation. Villages were every where destroyed,--property wasted
or carried off,[128] the men shot in sheer wantonness,--the women
villanously abused,--while thousands were driven for shelter to the
mountains, where many perished from actual want. With gothic barbarity,
the fine old city of Leria, and the church and convent of Alcabaca,
with its library and relics, were ordered by Massena to be burned. The
order was too faithfully executed; and places, for centuries objects
of Portuguese veneration, were given to the flames; and those hallowed
roofs, beneath which “the sage had studied and the saint had prayed,”
were reduced to ashes, to gratify a ruthless and vindictive spirit of
revenge.
Almeida was closely blockaded, and the head-quarters of the allies
established at Villa Formosa,[129] while their brigades were cantoned
generally in advance. Finding himself enabled to quit the army for a
time, Lord Wellington set out for the Alemtejo, to confer with Marshal
Beresford, and inspect the detached divisions.
FALL OF BADAJOZ--TO THE BATTLE OF BAROSA.
Badajoz invested.--Death of Menacho.--Fall of the city.--French
movements.--Affair at Campo Mayor.--Position of Beresford.--
Expedition under Graham.--Battle of Barosa.
Badajoz had received an addition to its garrison from some Spanish
troops who had escaped the slaughter at Gevora. The fortress was in
excellent condition for defence, plentifully supplied with ammunition,
and with abundant provisions for its defenders. All, of course, was
in favour of its holding out; and Raphael Menacho, an officer of
distinguished gallantry, had been appointed governor.
The French broke ground without loss of time, and sate down before
the place; while the garrison exhibited the best spirit, and by
their bold and frequent sallies, occasioned the greatest annoyance
to the besiegers. Menacho retrenched the streets, and made necessary
preparations for a stubborn defence, which equally evinced his ability
as an officer and determination as a man.
On the 2nd of March, the French having pushed their approaches to the
covered-way, to enable them to blow down the counterscarp,[130] the
Spanish governor determined on a sally. It was bravely executed, and
Menacho, in person, led the sortie. The batteries near the counterscarp
were destroyed, the guns spiked, and the works ruined. But, alas! this
success was dearly purchased, for the brave veteran was killed in the
_mêlée_.
His successor, a dastardly and treacherous villain, obeyed the first
summons--and having secured liberty for himself, at once surrendered
the fortress. To mark probably, their own sense of the dishonour this
base act of cowardice had entailed upon the garrison, the Spanish
workmen were obliged by the French to enlarge the breach, in order to
admit the grenadiers to pass through it.
Soult, after the fall of Badajoz, returned to Seville; Mortier
marched upon Campo Mayor; and Latour Maubourg occupied Albuquerque
and Alcantara with the cavalry. Though but a weak place, and mounted
with a few guns, Campo Mayor was bravely defended by a Portuguese
officer named Tallia--and only surrendered to the French when a longer
resistance was neither prudent nor practicable.
Beresford had received directions from Lord Wellington to reduce
Badajoz, and relieve Campo Mayor. On the 26th, his advanced guard,
consisting of a strong corps of infantry and two thousand British and
Portuguese dragoons, appeared before Campo Mayor as the French were
in the very act of retiring from the place, and removing their siege
artillery under the protection of a large body of cavalry and field
guns. Colborne marched with the infantry on the right--Head, with the
13th light dragoons, and two squadrons of Portuguese, on the left--and
the heavy cavalry formed a reserve. Perceiving that their battering
train was endangered, the French cavalry, as the ground over which they
were retiring was favourable for the movement, charged the 13th. But
they were vigorously repulsed; and, failing in breaking the British,
the whole, consisting of four regiments, drew up in front, forming an
imposing line. The 13th instantly formed and galloped forward--and
nothing could have been more splendid than their charge. They rode
fairly through the French,--overtook and cut down many of the gunners,
and at last entirely headed the line of march, keeping up a fierce and
straggling encounter with the broken horsemen of the enemy, until some
of the English dragoons actually reached the gates of Badajoz, where a
few of them were captured.[131]
It was a subject of regret that this dashing exploit of the light
cavalry did not receive the support it merited. Had the heavy dragoons
been vigorously pushed forward, the detachment and their guns must
have been necessarily cut off. In the affair, the French lost nearly
three hundred men, including a colonel of dragoons--and a howitzer was
secured by the British.
Marshal Beresford continued his operations, and made preparations for
the investment of Badajoz; Olivenza was reduced; the French nearly
expelled from Estremadura; and in a cavalry affair at Santos Maimona,
the enemy were charged and broken, with a considerable loss in killed
and wounded, and nearly one hundred prisoners.
On the 21st, Lord Wellington arrived--and on the 22nd he passed the
Caya with a strong corps of German and Portuguese cavalry, and made a
_reconnaissance_ of Badajoz. The governor showed him his garrison,--
for, to save a convoy that was approaching, he marched all his
disposable troops from the town.
To Marshal Beresford a trust of serious responsibility was confided. He
had Badajoz to occupy him on one hand, with every reason to expect that
Soult would advance, and raise the siege if possible--and under these
circumstances, a battle might be anticipated. The marshal was also
authorized by Lord Wellington, in the event of his being able to engage
the French on fair terms, to accept battle at Albuera.
Another action, by a British general of division, occurred, arising
from the attempt of an Anglo-Spanish army to raise the siege of Cadiz.
All bade fair for success, as the French had scarcely ten thousand men
in their lines, while in the city and Isle de Leon, the Spanish force
was more than twenty thousand. On this occasion, Graham acted under the
command of La Pena,--and eleven thousand allied troops were despatched
from Cadiz to Tarifa, to operate against the enemy’s rear at Chiclana;
while it was arranged that Zayas, who commanded in the Isle de Leon,
should pass his troops over San Petri near the sea, and unite in a
combined attack.
After much delay, occasioned by tempestuous weather, the troops and
artillery were safely assembled at Tarifa on the 27th; and when joined
by the 28th regiment and the flank companies of the 9th and 82nd, they
numbered about four thousand five hundred effective men.
General La Pena arrived the same day with seven thousand Spaniards;
and on the next, the united force moved through the passes of the
Ronda hills, and halted within four leagues of the French outposts.
The commands of the allies were thus distributed,--the vanguard to
Lardizable, the centre to the Prince of Anglona, the reserve to General
Graham, and the cavalry to Colonel Whittingham. Victor, though apprized
of the activity of the Spaniards, and the march of General Graham,
could not correctly ascertain the point upon which their intended
operations would be directed; and therefore, with eleven thousand
choice troops, he took post in observation between the roads of Conil
and Medina.
On the 2nd, the capture of Casa Viejas, increased La Pena’s force by
sixteen hundred infantry, and a number of guerilla horse. Until the
5th, he continued his movements--and, after his advanced guard had
been roughly handled by a squadron of French dragoons, he halted on the
Cerro de Puerco--more generally and gloriously known as the heights of
Barosa.
Barosa, though not a high hill, rises considerably above the rugged
plain it overlooks, and stands four miles inland from the débouchement
of the Santi Petri. The plain is bounded on the right by the forest of
Chiclana, on the left by cliffs on the sea-beach, and on the centre by
a pine wood, beyond which the hill of Bermeja rises.
The irregularity and tardiness of the Spanish movements gave a
portentous warning of what might be expected from them in the field.
They occupied fifteen hours in executing a moderate march, passing over
the ground in a rambling and disorderly manner, that seemed rather like
peasants wandering from a fair, than troops moving in the presence
of an enemy. La Pena, without waiting to correct his broken ranks,
sent on a vanguard to Zayas; while his rear, entirely separated from
the centre, was still straggling over the country,--and contrary to
the expressed wishes of Graham, who implored him to hold Barosa, he
declined his advice, and ordered the British to march through the pine
wood on Bermeja. Graham, supposing that Anglona’s division and the
cavalry would continue to occupy the hill, leaving the flank companies
of the 9th and 82nd to protect his baggage, obeyed the order, and
commenced his march. But the astonishment of the English general was
unbounded, when, on entering the wood, he saw La Pena moving his entire
corps from the heights of Barosa, with the exception of three or four
battalions and as many pieces of artillery.
Unfortunately, the English General was not the only person who had
observed that Barosa was abandoned. Victor, concealed in the forest
of Chiclana, anxiously watched the movements of the allies. He saw
the fatal error committed by the Spanish leader--and instantly
made dispositions to profit from the ignorance and obstinacy of his
antagonist.
The French Marshal, having selected three grenadier battalions as
reserves, strengthened his left wing with two, and three squadrons of
cavalry, while the other was attached to his centre. Ruffin commanded
the left, Laval the centre; while Villatte, with two thousand five
hundred infantry, covered the camp, and watched the Spaniards at Santa
Petri and Bermeja. The cavalry, stationed at Medina and Arcos, were
ordered by Victor to move on Vejer and cut off the allies--for on
their certain defeat the French General entertained no doubt.
The time was admirably chosen for a decisive movement. The British
corps were defiling through the wood--the strength of the Spaniards
posted on the Bermeja--another division pursued a straggling march
on Vejer--and a fourth, in great confusion, was at Barosa, as a
protection to the baggage. Making Villatte’s division a pivot, Victor
pushed Laval at once against the British,--and ascending the back of
the hill with Ruffin’s brigade, he threw himself between the Spaniards
and Medina, dispersed the camp followers in an instant, and captured
the guns and baggage.
Graham, when apprised of this sudden and unexpected movement,
countermarched directly on the plain, to co-operate, as he believed,
with La Pena, whom he calculated on finding on the heights--but never
was reliance placed by a brave soldier on a more worthless ally. The
Spaniard had deceived him--himself was gone--his mob-soldiery were
fugitives--Ruffin on the heights--the French cavalry between him and
the sea--and Laval close on the left flank of the British.
It was indeed a most perilous situation--and in that extremity, the
brave old man to whom the British had been fortunately confided, proved
himself worthy of the trust. He saw the ruin of retreat,--safety lay
in daring--and though the enemy held the key of the position with
fresh troops, Graham boldly determined to attack them with his wearied
ones.
The battle was instantly commenced. Duncan’s artillery opened a furious
cannonade on the column of Laval; and Colonel Barnard, with the rifles
and Portuguese Caçadores, extended to the left and began firing.
The rest of the British troops formed two masses, without regard to
regiments or brigades; one, under General Dilkes, marched direct
against Ruffin,--and the other under Colonel Whately, boldly attacked
Laval. On both sides the guns poured a torrent of grape and canister
over the field; the infantry kept up a withering fire; and both sides
advanced, for both seemed anxious to bring the contest to an issue.
Whately, when the lines approached, came forward to the charge--he
drove the first line on the second, and routed both with slaughter.
Brown had marched at once on Ruffin, and though half his small number
had been annihilated by an overwhelming fire, he held his ground
till Dilkes came to his assistance. Never pausing to correct their
formation, which the rugged hill had considerably disorganized, on
came the British desperately--they were still struggling to attain
the summit--and approaching the ridge, breathless and disordered,
their opponents advanced to meet them. A furious combat, hand to
hand ensued--for a moment victory seemed doubtful--but the British
fought with a ferocity that nothing could oppose. Whole sections went
down, but still the others pressed forward. Ruffin and Rousseau, who
commanded the _élite_ of the grenadiers, fell mortally wounded. The
British never paused--on they went, delivering volley after volley--
forcing the French over the heights, and defeating them with the loss
of their guns.
The divisions of Victor, though dreadfully cut up, fell back on each
other for mutual support, and endeavoured to rally--but Duncan’s
guns were moved forward, and opened a close and murderous fire that
prevented a possibility of reforming. Nothing could save the shattered
battalions from that exterminating cannonade but an instant retreat--
and Victor retired, leaving the British in undisputed possession of
the field, from which want of food and continued fatigue, while under
arms for four-and-twenty hours, of course prevented them from moving in
pursuit.
Never was there a shorter, and never a bloodier conflict. Though
it lasted scarcely an hour and a quarter, out of the handful of
British troops engaged, a loss was sustained of fifty officers, sixty
sergeants, and eleven hundred rank and file. The French, besides two
thousand killed and wounded, lost six guns, an eagle, and two generals,
with nearly five hundred prisoners.
Nothing could exceed the dastardly duplicity with which the Spanish
general abandoned his gallant ally. La Pena never made a movement
towards the succour of the British--and although the French cavalry
scarcely exceeded two hundred men, and the Spanish, under Whittingham,
amounted to more than six, the latter never drew a sabre. Never was
there a finer field for cavalry to act upon with effect--Ruffin’s
left was perfectly open--and even a demonstration of attack must
have turned defeat to ruin. Three troops of German hussars, under
Ponsonby, reached the field at the close of the battle, just as the
beaten divisions were attempting to unite. They charged through the
French squadrons, overthrew them, captured two guns, and sabred many of
Ruffin’s grenadiers, while endeavouring to regain their ranks.
To paint the character of Barosa in a few words, Napier’s will best
describe it. “The contemptible feebleness of La Pena furnished a
surprising contrast to the heroic vigour of Graham,[132] whose attack
was an inspiration rather than a resolution--so wise, so sudden was
the decision, so swift, so conclusive was the execution.”
BATTLE OF FUENTES D’ONORO.
Massena takes the field.--Attempts to relieve Almeida.--Lord
Wellington prevents it.--Battle of Fuentes d’Onoro.
The army of Portugal, reinforced by that of the north, and two
divisions of the ninth corps, mustering forty thousand infantry,
and nearly four thousand horse, quitted their cantonments; while
Wellington, apprised of this concentration, hastened from the south to
Formosa, and resumed the command of the allies, whose force might be
computed at thirty-two thousand infantry, and one thousand five hundred
cavalry.
Massena’s great object in taking the field again, was to raise the
blockade of Almeida, then closely invested by Lord Wellington; while
the English commander, determined that this important fortress should
not be relieved, resolved, even on unfavourable ground and with an
inferior force, to risk a battle.
The river Coa flows past Almeida--its banks are dangerous and steep,
and its points of passage few. Beside the bridge of the city, there
is a second, seven miles up the stream, at Castello Bom; and a third,
twenty miles farther still, at Sabugal. To fight with the river in his
rear was hazardous; but Wellington had decided on his course of action,
and accordingly he selected the best position which a country of no
great military strength would afford.
The Duas Casas runs in a northerly course and nearly parallel with
the Coa, having on its left bank the village of Fuentes d’Onoro. It
is a sweet hamlet, and prettily situated in front of a sloping hill
of easy access, here and there intersprinkled with woods of cork and
ilex. The village was a feature of considerable military importance,
the channel of the Duas Casas being rocky and broken, and its banks
generally steep. Fuentes was occupied by the light troops--the third
division were posted on a ridge crossing the road to Villa Formosa--
the brigades of Craufurd and Campbell had formed behind the village of
Alameda, to observe the bridge over the Duas Casas--Pack’s division
observed Almeida closely, and shut in the garrison--Erskine held the
great road that crosses the Duas Casas by a ford--while the guerilla
cavalry were placed in observation, two miles on the right, at the
village of Nava-de-Aver. The position was very extensive, covering,
from flank to flank, a surface of nearly six miles.
The military attitude which the allied commander held, compared with
that of the preceding year, was singularly changed. Then, his being
able to maintain himself in the country was more than questionable;
now, and in the face of those corps who had driven him on Torres
Vedras, he stood with a divided force--and while two sieges were being
carried on, he protected the great roads, by which the divisions who
conducted them were secured; and, as results best proved, attempted
nothing beyond what he had means and talents to effect.
On the 1st and 2nd of May, Massena, with an immense convoy, passed the
rivers Agueda and Azava, with the intention of relieving Almeida, and
providing it with every means for insuring a protracted defence. On the
3rd, in the evening, the French sixth corps appeared on the heights
above Fuentes d’Onoro, and commenced a lively cannonade, followed up
by a furious assault upon the village. The light companies, who held
Fuentes, sustained the attack bravely, until they were supported by the
71st, and, as the affair grew warmer, by the 79th and 24th. Colonel
Williams was wounded--and the command devolving on Colonel Cameron, he
remedied a temporary disorder that had been occasioned by the fall of
several officers, and again restored the battle. The ground for a time
gained by the French was inch by inch recovered; and, probably, during
the Peninsular conflicts, a closer combat was never maintained, as, in
the main street particularly, the rival troops fought fairly hand to
hand.
The French were finally expelled from the village. Night was closing;
undismayed by a heavy loss, and unwearied by a hardly-contested action,
a cannon--as it appeared to be--being seen on the adjacent heights,
the 71st dashed across the rivulet, and bearing down all resistance,
reached and won the object of their enterprise. On reaching it,
however, the Highlanders discovered that in the haze of evening they
had mistaken a tumbrel for a gun--but they bore it off, a trophy of
their gallantry.
The British regiments held the village. The next day passed quietly
over, while Massena carefully reconnoitred the position of his
opponent. It was suspected that he intended to change his plan of
attack, and manœuvre on the right; and to secure that flank, Houston’s
division was moved to Posa Velha, the ground there being weak, and the
river fordable. As had been anticipated, favoured by the darkness,
Massena “marched his troops bodily to the left,”[133] placing his whole
cavalry, with Junot’s corps, right in front of Houston’s division. A
correspondent movement was consequently made; Spencer’s and Picton’s
divisions moved to the right, and Craufurd, with the cavalry, marched
to support Houston.
At daybreak the attack was made. Junot carried the village of Posa
Velha, and the French cavalry drove in that of the allies. But the
infantry, supported by the horse artillery, repulsed the enemy and
drove them back with loss.
A difficult and a daring change of position was now required, and Lord
Wellington, abandoning his communication with the bridge at Sabugal,
retired his right, and formed line at right angles with his first
formation, extending from the Duas Casas, towards Frenada on the Coa.
This necessary operation obliged the seventh and light divisions, in
the face of a bold and powerful cavalry, to retire nearly two miles;
and it required all the steadiness and rapidity of British light
infantry to effect the movement safely. Few as the British cavalry
were, they charged the enemy frequently, and always with success; while
the horse artillery sustained their well-earned reputation, acting
with a boldness that at times almost exposed them to certain capture.
Ramsay’s troop was at one time actually cut off--but by the bravery of
the men and the superior quality of his horses, he galloped through the
surrounding hussars, and carried off his battery.[134] The infantry,
in squares of battalions, repelled every charge; while the Chasseurs
Brittanique kept up a flanking fire, that, while the retrogression of
the British was being effected, entailed a considerable loss on the
assailants who were pressing them closely.
The new position of the British was most formidable. The right appuied
upon a hill, topped by an ancient tower, and the alignement was so
judiciously taken up, that Massena did not venture to assail it.
While these operations were going on, a furious attack was repeated on
Fuentes d’Onoro. Infantry, cavalry, and artillery, all were brought
to bear--a tremendous cannonade opened on the devoted village--and
the assault was made at the same moment on flanks and front together.
Desperate fighting in the streets and churchyard took place. The
French feeding the attacking troops with fresh numbers, pressed the
three regiments,[135] that held the upper village, severely;--but
after one of the closest and most desperate combats that has ever been
maintained, a bayonet charge of the 88th decided the contest;[136]
and the assailants, notwithstanding their vastly superior force, were
driven with prodigious slaughter from Fuentes; the upper village
remaining in possession of its gallant defenders, and the lower in “the
silent occupation of the dead.”
Evening closed the combat. Massena’s columns on the right were halted--
and his sixth division, with which he had endeavoured to storm Fuentes
d’Onoro, withdrawn--the whole French army bivouacking in the order in
which they had stood when the engagement closed. The British lighted
their fires, posted their pickets, and occupied the field they had so
bravely held; and “both parties lay down to rest, with a confident
assurance on their minds, that the battle was only intermitted till the
return of daylight.”
A brigade of the light division relieved the brave defenders of
Fuentes,[137] and preparatory to the expected renewal of attack,
they threw up some works to defend the upper village and the ground
behind it. But these precautions were unnecessary; Massena remained
for the next day in front of his antagonist--exhibiting no anxiety
to renew the combat. The 7th found the British, as usual, under arms
at dawn, but the day passed as quietly as the preceding one had
done. On the 8th, however, the French columns were observed in full
retreat, marching on the road to Ciudad Rodrigo. Massena, with an
army reinforced by every battalion and squadron he could collect from
Gallicia and Castile, had been completely beaten by a wing of the
British army, consisting of three divisions only. With that unblushing
assurance, for which the French marshals have been remarkable, of
changing defeat into conquest, Massena did not hesitate to call Fuentes
d’Onoro a victory. But the object for which the battle was fought was
unattained--he failed in succouring the beleaguered city--and Almeida
was left to its fate.
In a close and sanguinary contest, like that of Fuentes d’Onoro, the
loss on both sides must necessarily be immense. The British had two
hundred killed, one thousand and twenty-eight wounded, and two hundred
and ninety-four missing. The French suffered much more heavily; and it
was computed that nearly five thousand of Massena’s army were rendered
_hors de combat_. In the lower village of Fuentes alone, two hundred
dead bodies were reckoned.
In the conduct of an affair which terminated so gloriously for the
divisions engaged, the system of defence adopted by Lord Wellington was
very masterly. Every arm of his force was happily employed, and all
were well combined for mutual protection. Massena had every advantage
for arranging his attack--for thick woods in front enabled him to form
his columns unseen--and until the moment of their _débouchement_,
none could tell their strength, or even guess the place on which they
were about to be directed. Hence, the French marshal had the means of
pouring a mass of infantry on any point he pleased--and of making a
serious impression before troops could be moved forward to meet and
repel the assault. His superiority in cavalry and artillery was great.
He might, under a cannonade that the British guns could not have
answered, have brought forward his cavalry _en masse_, supported by
columns of infantry,--and the allied line, under a masked movement
of this kind, would in all probability have been penetrated. Or, by
bringing his cavalry round the right of the British flank, and crossing
the Coa, he might have obliged Lord Wellington to pass the river under
the greatest disadvantages. Indeed, this was apprehended on the 5th--
and there was but one alternative, either to raise the blockade of
Almeida, or relinquish the Sabugal road. The latter was done. “It was
a bold measure, but it was not adopted without due consideration; and
it received an ample reward in the successful termination of this
hard-fought battle.”
BRENNIER’S ESCAPE--AND SUBSEQUENT OPERATIONS.
Almeida closely blockaded.--Brennier destroys the works, and
makes preparations for escaping--Breaks out from the fortress,
and succeeds.--Badajoz invested.--Progress of the siege.--
Interrupted by Soult’s advance.--Beresford raises the siege--
Unites with the Spanish army under Blake, and takes a position at
Albuera.--Numbers of the rival armies.--Their composition.--
Remarks.
Although the French moved so slowly on the Rodrigo road during the
9th, that it seemed a doubtful point whether this dubious retreat did
not mask some other plan of Massena against the British position, the
morning of the 10th dispelled all anxiety on that head--for then it
was ascertained, that nothing but a few cavalry pickets remained on the
line of the Azava.
Wellington, liberated from all fear of present annoyance, after
strengthening the position at Fuentes with field-works, resumed the
blockade of Almeida. To the sixth division, under General Campbell,
that duty was intrusted--for, unfortunately, as the event turned out,
that officer asked and obtained permission to reduce the place.
Too great confidence, either in the allied strength or the weakness
of the garrison, most probably led him to adopt an imperfect system
of blockade, which led to mortifying results. His dispositions were
entirely erroneous. It is true that the right face of Almeida was
vigilantly watched--but there, no movements could have been made
with any prospect of succeeding--while the left unfortunately,
was overlooked--and the banks of the Aqueda and bridge of Barba
del Puerco, on the direct route to the French outposts, were left
unguarded. This oversight was generally noticed--and though the
blockade of the fortress had been in the first instance unreservedly
confided to Campbell, the faulty method of his dispositions obliged
Lord Wellington to order the division of Sir William Erskine to march
and observe the left face of the place. But this was not effected in
proper time--and a delay in the transmission of orders produced a very
annoying result, and enabled the French garrison to get away.
Massena, on crossing the Agueda, finding every effort to relieve the
fortress impracticable, abandoned it to its fate, resigning thus the
object for which he had sacrificed five thousand men, and at the same
time, losing his last hold in Portugal. He transmitted orders to
Brennier by a private soldier, who with great tact avoided the British
posts, and reached Almeida safely. In these, the governor was directed
to dismantle the works, quit the fortress in silence, force his way
through the pickets, and march on Barba del Puerco, where a division of
French cavalry and infantry would be ready to protect him.
The successful issue of the attempt, beleaguered as Almeida was by a
force of such strength as the allied army, appeared a hopeless task;
but to the brave nothing is impossible, and the bold movement of
Brennier obtained the good fortune which it deserved. Instantly, he
proceeded to destroy the works--and wasted the ammunition, spiked
the guns, or more effectually destroyed them, by discharging one
cannon into another. Frequent explosions were heard during the 8th and
9th, announcing that the work of destruction was proceeding. This,
however, was only believed to be an act preparatory to an unconditional
surrender--and this added to the ill-judged confidence of the general
who was intrusted with the observation of the town.
On the evening of the 10th the French governor assembled his superior
officers, communicated Massena’s instructions, and then issued his own.
The soldiers were ordered to quit the town at ten o’clock--march in
profound silence--and no matter what circumstances should occur, they
were directed to receive the fire of the besiegers without returning a
shot. By daylight Brennier calculated that they should have reached the
bridge--but if delayed by accident, or attacked in force, the way was
to be opened with the bayonet. The night march was pointed out from the
ramparts--and at eleven o’clock, under cover of an immense explosion,
the brave band left the ruined fortress, and guided by the stars,
pushed boldly for the French lines.
The springing of the mines was not particularly attended to--for on
the preceding nights similar explosions had been heard. But suddenly a
report was spread that Almeida was deserted--and that the garrison,
with Brennier at their head, were marching rapidly on Barba del Puerco.
The pickets of Pack’s brigade were at Malpartada; and that general,
in visiting his outposts, first ascertained the escape of the French,
and gave an alarm. It was now too late--the first picket that
opposed the garrison of Almeida had been bayoneted--and pushing
through the others, who could offer but trifling opposition, Brennier
marched rapidly on. Pack sent immediately to apprise Campbell of the
occurrence, and in person he hung on the enemy’s rear, indicating
the line of the retreat by the flashes of his musketry, which were
constantly kept up. Campbell, though he hurried to the point, appears
to have issued no distinct orders, which should have produced an
instant pursuit. The 4th regiment endeavoured to head the retreating
column--but the latter marched too rapidly to be overtaken. Brennier’s
orders were strictly obeyed--the column hurried on--and not a shot
was fired until it reached the Aqueda.
There the French halted for their stragglers to come up, for they had
also diverged a little to the left of the proper route. These delays
enabled the 2nd, 4th, and 36th, who had thrown aside their knapsacks,
to overtake them in the act of crossing the bridge at Puerco. In
passing they were exposed to a heavy fire, by which they lost one
hundred men--while some squadrons of the Royals, and Pack’s Portuguese
light troops, captured ten officers and upwards of two hundred men.
The retreat of the garrison from Almeida was admirably planned and
bravely executed. Three-fourths of the number were thus saved--and the
doubt is, whether Massena’s astonishment or Wellington’s annoyance at
Brennier’s escape, was the greater. Indeed, fewer prosperous results
succeeded the battle of Fuentes d’Onoro than might have been reasonably
looked for. But such events are ever occurring, and form the proverbial
uncertainty of _la fortune de la guerre_.
A general order of Lord Wellington, in alluding to this singular
escape, sensibly remarks--“Officers of the army may depend upon it,
that the enemy to whom they are opposed is not less prudent than
powerful.” The extreme ability with which Brennier had contrived
not only to ruin the works,[138] but to pass his garrison in close
column through the quarters of the reserves, proved the truth of Lord
Wellington’s estimate of the military ability of his opponents. Lord
Londonderry, in noticing Brennier’s exploit, says, “Not that we very
deeply regretted the escape of the individuals; they were brave men,
had made a bold venture, and deserved that it should be crowned with
success.” A remark we should have expected from a man, himself a stout
and dashing officer.[139]
While Lord Wellington had been obliged to return to the north, in
consequence of Massena’s movements for the relief of Almeida, Beresford
endeavoured to reduce Badajoz, and selected, as its weakest point, the
junction of the Rivellas with the Guadiana, where the defences were
restricted to a simple wall in front of the castle that commands the
town.[140] The marshal had hopes from the engineers, that the place
might be taken in twelve or fourteen days. Preparations for the siege
were made; bridges laid across the Guadiana on the 23rd--and the next
day was appointed for a close investment of the fortress. That evening,
unfortunately, the weather changed suddenly--the flood rose--the
river in one night increased perpendicularly seven feet--and sweeping
the bridges totally away, the materials were borne down the stream, and
the communications with Portugal completely interrupted.
Another bridge was hastily constructed. On the 8th, ground was broken--
and notwithstanding the rocky surface, moonlight, and the exposed
situation on which the working parties were employed, occasioned heavy
loss, a breaching battery opened on San Christoval on the 11th at
daybreak. Its operation was found very indifferent. The Portuguese
gunners who manned the batteries were, from their inexperience,
unable to produce effect; the guns, also, were defective[141]--and
the firing of a few hours left them, with one exception, totally
unserviceable.
At this time, intelligence reached the marshal, that Soult was marching
from Larena. Beresford, of course, at once abandoned the siege,
removed the artillery and stores, and having united himself with Blake,
Castanos, and Ballasteros, the combined armies took position behind the
Albuera, where the Seville and Olivença roads separate.
On the westward of the ground where the allies determined to abide a
battle, the surface undulated gently--and on the summit, and parallel
with the river, their divisions were drawn up. The village of Albuera
was in front of the left, and the right was formed on a succession
of knolls, none of them of any strength, and having no particular
appui. On the eastern side of the river, an open country extends for a
considerable distance, terminating in thick woods; and in these Soult
bivouacked on the night of the 15th, and there made his dispositions
for attack.
The French army, though numerically weaker, was composed of veteran
troops, and amounted to twenty thousand infantry, three thousand
cavalry, and forty pieces of cannon. The allies numbered twenty-seven
thousand infantry, two thousand cavalry, and thirty-two guns; but of
this force, fourteen thousand were Spanish.
These last were formed in a double line upon the right--Stewart’s
division was in the centre--a Portuguese division on the left. The
light infantry, under Alten, held the village--and the dragoons,
under Lumley, were placed on the right flank of the Spaniards. Cole’s
division (the fusileers) and a Portuguese brigade, which came up after
the action had commenced, were formed in rear of the centre.
Never did the _matériel_ of an army so completely compensate for its
inferior numbers as that of the Duke of Dalmatia. What though his
infantry was weaker by eight or even ten thousand, his were among the
finest battalions in the service of Napoleon. His cavalry was a third
stronger, and his artillery more numerous and efficient. Beresford’s
was a medley of three nations. He had thirty thousand men in position,
but not a fourth was British; while nearly one-half was composed of
that worst of military mobs--the Spaniards--nor were these even
brought up in time to admit of their being properly posted. Blake
had promised that his corps should be on the hill of Albuera before
noon on the 15th--and, with but a few miles to march, with excellent
roads to traverse, the head of his columns reached the ground near
midnight, and the rear at three on the morning of the 16th. Bad as
Beresford’s army was, had it been in hand, more might have been done
with it. It was three o’clock on the 16th before Blake was fairly up,
and six before the fourth division reached the ground; while three fine
British regiments under Kemmis, and Madden’s Portuguese cavalry, never
appeared. As the event shewed, a few British soldiers would have proved
invaluable--and these troops, though immediately contiguous during the
long and doubtful struggle that ensued, remained _non-combatant_.
BATTLE OF ALBUERA.
Soult attacks the Spaniards.--Progress of the battle.--French
defeated.--Remarks on Marshal Beresford.--Blake’s conduct.--
Soult retreats.--Badajoz invested.
Beresford’s position had been carefully reconnoitred by Soult on the
evening of the 15th, and aware that the fourth British division was
still before Badajoz, and Blake not yet come up, he determined to
attack the marshal without delay. A height, commanding the Valverde
road, if a front attack were made, appeared, on his examination of the
ground, to be the key of the position; and as Beresford had overlooked
its occupation, Soult ably selected it as the point by which his
principal effort should be made.
A wooded hill behind the Albuera, and within cannon-shot of the allied
right, afforded the French marshal the means of forming a strong column
for attack, without his design being noticed by his opponent. Covered
by the darkness, he brought forward the artillery of Ruty, the fifth
corps under Girard, with the cavalry of Latour Maubourg, and formed
them for his intended assault; “thus concentrating fifteen thousand
men and forty guns within ten minutes’ march of Beresford’s right
wing, and yet that general could neither see a man, nor draw a sound
conclusion as to the real plan of attack.”[142] The remainder of his
corps was placed in the wood on the banks of the Feria, to bear against
Beresford’s left, and by carrying the bridge and village sever the
wings of the allied army.
The engagement commenced by Godinot debouching from the wood, and
making a feint on the left, while the main body of the French ascended
the heights on the right of the Spaniards. On perceiving the true
object of Soult’s attack, Beresford, who had vainly endeavoured,
through an aide-de-camp, to persuade Blake to change his front, rode
to the Spanish post, pointed out the heads of the advancing columns,
and induced his ally to take up a new alignement. It was scarcely done
until the French bore down upon the Spanish infantry; and though at
first they were stoutly opposed, the battalions gradually began to
yield ground; and, being farther forced back, Soult commenced deploying
on the most commanding point of the position. A serious attack was to
be dreaded; the French cavalry sweeping round the allies, threatened
their rear--and Godinot’s column made fresh demonstrations of
vigorously assailing the left.
All this was most alarming;--the Spanish line confusedly endeavouring
to effect the difficult manœuvre of changing its front, while
two-thirds of the French, in compact order of battle, were preparing to
burst upon the disordered ranks, and insure their total destruction.
The French guns had opened a furious cannonade,--the infantry were
firing volley after volley,--the cavalry charging where the Spanish
battalions seemed most disordered. Already their ranks were wavering--
and Soult, determined to complete the ruin he had begun, ordered up the
reserve, and advanced all his batteries.
At this perilous moment, when the day seemed lost, General Stewart
pushed the leading brigade of the fourth division up the hill under
Colonel Colborne, and it mounted by columns of companies. To form line
on gaining the top, under a withering fire, was difficult; and while
in the act of its being effected, a mist, accompanied by a heavy fall
of rain, shut every object out from view, and enabled the whole of the
light cavalry of Godinot’s division to sweep round the right flank, and
gallop on the rear of the companies, at the time they were in loose
deployment. Half the brigade was cut to pieces--the 31st, who were
still fortunately in column, alone escaping the lancers, who, with
little resistance, were spearing right and left a body of men surprised
on an open flat, and wanting the necessary formation which can alone
enable infantry to resist a charge of horse.
This scene of slaughter, by a partial dispersion of the smoke and
fog that had hitherto concealed the battle-ground, was fortunately
observed by General Lumley, and he ordered the British cavalry to
gallop to the relief of the remnant of Colborne’s brigade. They charged
boldly; and, in turn, the lancers were taken in rear, and many fell
beneath the sabres of the English.
The weather, that had caused the destruction of the British regiments,
obscured the field of battle, and prevented Soult from taking an
immediate advantage by exterminating that half-ruined brigade. Stewart
brought up Houghton’s corps; the artillery had come forward, and opened
a furious cannonade on the dense masses of the French; and the 31st
resolutely maintained its position on the height. Two Spanish brigades
were advanced, and the action became hotter than ever. For a moment
the French battalions recoiled,--but it was only to rally instantly,
and come on with greater fury. A raging fire of artillery on both
sides, sustained at little more than pistol range, with reiterated
volleys of musketry, heaped the field with dead--while the French were
vainly endeavouring to gain ground, and the British would not yield
an inch. But the ranks of the island soldiery were thinning fast,--
their ammunition was nearly exhausted,--their fire slackened,--and
notwithstanding the cannonade checked the French movement for a time,
Soult formed a column on the right flank of the British, and the
lancers[143] charging furiously again, drove off the artillery-men
and captured six guns. All now seemed lost--and a retreat appeared
inevitable. The Portuguese were preparing to cover it, and the marshal
was about to give the order, when Colonel Hardinge suggested that
another effort should be made, and “boldly ordered General Cole to
advance, and then riding to Colonel Abercrombie, who commanded the
remaining brigade of the second division, directed him also to push
forward into the fight.”[144]
The order was instantly obeyed,--General Harvey, with the Portuguese
regiments of the fourth division, moved on between the British cavalry
and the hill; and though charged home by the French dragoons, he
checked them by a heavy fire and pushed forward steadily; while General
Cole led on the 7th and 23rd fusileers in person.
In a few minutes more the remnant of the British must have abandoned
the hill or perished. The French reserve was on its march to assist the
front column of the enemy, while, with the allies all was in confusion;
and as if the slaughter required an increase, a Spanish and an English
regiment were firing in mutual mistake upon each other. Six guns were
in possession of the French, and their lancers, riding furiously over
the field, threatened the feeble remnant of the British still in line,
and speared the wounded without mercy.[145] At this fearful moment
the boundless gallantry of British officers displayed itself; Colonel
Arbuthnot, under the double musketry, rushed between the mistaken
regiments, and stopped the firing; Cole pushed up the hill, scattered
the lancers, recovered the guns, and passed the right of the skeleton
of Houghton’s brigade, at the same instant that Abercrombie appeared
upon its left. Leaving the broken regiments in its rear, the fusileer
brigade came forward with imposing gallantry, and boldly confronted
the French, now reinforced by a part of its reserve, and who were, as
they believed, coming forward to annihilate the “feeble few” that had
still survived the murderous contest. From the daring attitude of the
fresh regiments, Soult perceived, too late, that the battle was not
yet won; and, under a tremendous fire of artillery, he endeavoured to
break up his close formation and extend his front. For a moment the
storm of grape, poured from Ruty’s well-served artillery, staggered the
fusileers,--but it was only for a moment. Though Soult rushed into the
thickest of the fire, and encouraged and animated his men,--though the
cavalry gathered on their flank and threatened it with destruction,
on went these noble regiments; volley after volley falling into the
crowded ranks of their enemy, and cheer after cheer pealing to Heaven,
in answer to the clamorous outcry of the French, as the boldest urged
the others forward.
Nothing could check the fusileers; they kept gradually advancing,
while the incessant rolling of their musketry slaughtered the crowded
sections of the French, and each moment embarrassed more and more
Soult’s efforts to open out his encumbered line. The reserve, coming to
support their comrades--now forced to the very edge of the plateau--
increased the crowd without remedying the disorder. The English volleys
rolled on faster and more deadly than ever; a horrid carnage made all
attempts to hold the hill vain--and uselessly increased an unavailing
slaughter. Unable to bear the withering fire, the shattered columns of
the French were no longer able to sustain themselves,--the mass were
driven over the ridge,--and trampling each other down, the shattered
column sought refuge at the bottom of the hill.
On that bloody height stood the conquerors. From fifteen hundred
muskets a parting volley fell upon the routed column as it hurried down
the Sierra. Where was the remainder of the proud army of England, that
on the morning had exceeded six thousand combatants?--Stretched coldly
in the sleep of death, or bleeding on the battle-ground!
During the time this desperate effort of the fusileer brigade had been
in progress, Beresford, to assist Hardinge, moved Blake’s first line
on Albuera--and with the German light troops, and two Portuguese
divisions, advanced to support the 7th and 23rd, while Lautour
Maubourg’s flank attack was repelled by the fire of Lefebre’s guns, and
a threatened charge by Lumley. But the fusileers had driven the French
over the heights before any assistance reached them--and Beresford
was enabled to form a fresh line upon the hill, parallel to that by
which Soult had made his attack in the morning. For a short time the
battle continued at Albuera--but the French finally withdrew from the
village, and at three o’clock in the evening, the firing had totally
ceased.
There is not on record a bloodier struggle. In four hours’ fighting,
fifteen thousand men were _hors de combat_. The allied loss was
frightful; it amounted to nearly seven thousand in killed, wounded,
and missing. Almost all its general officers were included in the
melancholy list: Houghton, Myers, and Duckworth in the killed; and
Cole, Stewart, Ellis, Blakeney, and Hawkshaw among the wounded. The
loss of some regiments was terrible; the 57th came into action with
five hundred and seventy bayonets--and at the close it had lost its
colonel (Inglis), twenty-two officers, and four hundred rank and file.
The proportion of the allied casualties told how fatal Albuera had
proved to the British: two thousand Spaniards, and six hundred German
and Portuguese, were returned as their killed and wounded, leaving
the remainder to be completed from the British regiments. Hence, the
unexampled loss of more than four thousand men, out of a corps little
exceeding six, was sustained in this sanguinary battle by the British.
Never was more heroism displayed than by the British regiments engaged
in the murderous conflict of Albuera. The soldiers dropped by whole
ranks, but never thought of turning. When a too ardent wish to succour
those pressed upon the hill, induced Stewart to hurry Colborne’s
brigade into action, without allowing it a momentary pause to halt and
form,--and in the mist, that unluckily favoured the lancer charge, the
companies were unexpectedly assailed,--though fighting at dreadful
disadvantage, the men resisted to the last. Numbers perished by the
lance-blade; but still the dead Poles, that were found intermingled
with the fallen English, shewed that the gallant islanders had not died
without exacting blood for blood.
The French exceeded the British by at least a thousand. Of their worst
wounded, eight hundred were left upon the field. Their loss in superior
officers, like that of the British, had been most severe--two generals
having been killed, and three severely wounded.
To a victory both sides laid claim--the French resting theirs on the
capture of some colours, the taking of a howitzer, with some five
hundred prisoners whom they had secured unwounded. But the British kept
the battle-ground; and though neither cannon nor eagle remained with
them, a field covered with carcases, and heaped with bleeding enemies,
was the best trophy of their valour, and clearly established to whom
conquest in reality belonged.
Much military controversy has arisen from the fight of Albuera--
and Marshal Beresford has received some praise and more censure.
Probably the battle should not have been fought at all; or, if it
were unavoidable, greater care might have been bestowed in taking
the position--and, certainly, the investment of Badajoz should not
have been continued so long. Much, however, can be urged in favour of
Marshal Beresford--for his was a most embarrassing command, and he had
numerous and unexpected difficulties to contend with. Opposed to him
was one of the ablest of Napoleon’s generals, and an army formed of the
finest _matériel_, complete in every arm, and under the orders of the
best officers of France. How differently was his force constructed:--
a small portion of the whole were British: on another part of it, the
Portuguese, some fair reliance might be placed; but the half of his
army were an ill-commanded and ill-disciplined force, half-starved,
half-armed, worn down by fatigue, and beaten repeatedly by the very
troops they were again obliged to encounter. Little dependence could
be placed on such worthless levies--and still less on their stubborn
commander. When the real attack of the French marshal was apparent
to everybody, Blake, with proverbial obstinacy, refused to alter his
formation until his clumsy battalions had not sufficient time to change
their front, and the French columns were actually mounting the hill to
attack him. This was bad enough, yet, after all, it was but an error
of the head. But the man was radically worthless. When Beresford’s
pickets had been established for the night, the British brigades were
so miserably reduced, that they could not furnish men to carry off the
wounded. In this wretched situation, when an enemy would have freely
succoured him, Beresford despatched Hardinge to his ally, to beg him
to lend assistance; and the brutal answer of the Spaniard was, “that
each of the allied powers must take care of its own wounded;” and he
declined extending the least relief to these heroic sufferers, who, by
a prodigal expenditure of their blood, alone had saved his sluggish
legions from extermination.
If Beresford’s judgment be open to censure, his personal intrepidity
must be admitted and admired. No man could make greater exertions to
retrieve the day when defeat appeared all but certain. When Stewart’s
imprudence, in loosely bringing Colborne’s brigade into action, had
occasioned it a loss only short of annihilation,--and the Spaniards,
though they could not be induced to advance, fired without ceasing,
with an English regiment in their front, Beresford actually seized an
ensign and dragged him forward with the colours, hoping that these
worthless troops would be inspirited to follow. Not a man stirred--
and the standard-bearer, when the marshal’s grasp relaxed, instantly
flew back to herd with his cold-blooded associates. In every change
of the fight, and on every part of the field, Beresford was seen
conspicuously; and whatever might have been his failing as a general,
his bravery as a man should have commanded the respect of many who
treated his arrangements with unsparing severity.
A painful night succeeded that sanguinary day. The moaning of the
wounded and the groans of the dying were heard on every side; and it
was to be dreaded that Soult, who had still fifteen thousand troops fit
for action, would renew the battle. On the next day, however, three
fresh British regiments joined the marshal by a forced march; and on
the 18th, Soult retreated on the road of Solano, covered by the heavy
cavalry of Lautour Maubourg. He had previously despatched such of his
wounded as could bear removal towards Seville, leaving the remainder to
the generous protection of the British commander.[146]
Badajoz was partially blockaded on the 19th, by the Portuguese, under
General Hamilton. On the second day after, Lord Wellington arrived, and
ordered up the third and seventh divisions to complete the investment
of that important fortress. Soult continued retreating, and Beresford
followed him, by order of the allied commander.
SIEGE OF BADAJOZ, AND AFFAIR OF EL BODON.
Badajoz besieged.--Castle breached and unsuccessfully assaulted.--A
second attempt fails.--Siege raised.--French advance.--Badajoz
relieved.--Montbrun attacks the allies.--Affair of El Bodon.--
Wellington’s dangerous situation.--He retreats on the Coa--Offers
battle there, which Soult and Marmont decline.--French retire.
It certainly was a bold design, and one that many considered as little
removed from rashness, for Lord Wellington to attempt Badajoz a second
time, limited as he was in every necessary for a siege, and by no means
secure from molestation. He had obtained, by the victories of Fuentes
d’Onoro and Albuera, a temporary superiority of force on the Guadiana;
but it was not likely that Soult and Marmont would let a fortress to
which they attached so much importance fall, without making a vigorous
effort for its relief--nor could a rapid reduction of Badajoz be
accomplished. The siege trains were wretchedly defective; and the guns,
originally bad, had been ruined or disabled during Beresford’s recent
attempt; and the engineers reported, that eleven days would be required
before they could be remounted and placed in battery; while in twenty,
a force quite sufficient to disturb all operations, could easily reach
the Alemtejo from Salamanca, by the passes of Banos or Gata, while the
Tagus was fordable at Alcantara.
Operations commenced on the night of the 30th of May, in front of the
castle, by sixteen hundred workmen, covered by a protecting party of
twelve hundred. The first parallel, extending one thousand yards, was
completed, and no interruption given by the besieged. A lesser party
commenced a parallel before San Christoval; but the rocky soil could
not be broken without causing alarm, and a severe fire was directed on
the workmen, which occasioned a considerable loss.
The approaches were ably pushed on, but great difficulties had to be
overcome by the besiegers. Before San Christoval, the stony surface
required a supply of earth and woolpacks, to form an artificial
covering for the engineers and fatigue parties; while the workmen were
exposed to the fire of several sixteen and eighteen inch mortars, which
threw their enormous shells with a precision that threatened ruin to
every thing within their range.
When the batteries opened on the morning of the 3rd of June, the
imperfect supply of bullets was soon exhausted, and the artillery were
obliged to use the shot intended for guns of an inferior calibre--
consequently, the windage was so great, that the service was very
indifferent; and several guns, from the defective quality of their
metal, became unserviceable after a few discharges.
A siege, where the means of aggression were so imperfect, could only
have been carried on by the unremitted exertions of every arm engaged--
and with various casualties, that of Badajoz continued until the 6th,
when two breaches in San Christoval were reported practicable; and it
was decided by Lord Wellington that they should be stormed without loss
of time.
All was accordingly prepared; the storming party gained the ditch, but
the foot of the breach had been cleared, and a sheer ascent of full
seven feet of wall unexpectedly presented itself. Without sufficient
means for escalade, success was hopeless--and the more prudent plan
would have been to retire instantly, when the actual state of the
breach was ascertained. But British blood was roused; the assailants
were bravely led,[147] and for nearly an hour, in an unavailing effort
to surmount an impracticable barrier, the forlorn hope and storming
party persevered, until three-fourths of their number were destroyed.
Nothing had been omitted by the enemy both for defence and annoyance.
The rubbish had been cleared away, and the parapet lined with shells,
grenades, stones, and powder-bags, which were rolled into the ditch,
and by their repeated explosions, destroyed all within their reach.
After desperate but unavailing exertions, the few that remained were
withdrawn,--and with some iron guns which had been obtained, the
engineers immediately resumed breaching the castle walls.
The fire speedily brought down the ancient masonry, and a bank of clay
against which the wall had been erected. An engineer officer examined
the breach, and reported that it was practicable--although he received
his death-wound in the attempt, and had only strength left to announce
that he had done the duty on which he had been employed. But the
besieged were indefatigable in repairing by night, the damages their
works received from the English batteries, and the breach was provided
with every means for desperate defence. A more vigorous assault was
arranged, and a better hour was selected; the troops were equally
ardent and as boldly led--but the result was similar; and the second
assault failed with as great a loss of life, and as little chance of
succeeding, as that which marked the former storm.
It was now quite apparent that additional siege artillery must be
procured to insure the fall of Badajoz; while information was received
by Lord Wellington, that Soult and Marmont were making rapid movements
to relieve the fortress. To persevere longer would have been madness;--
the siege was therefore, necessarily raised, and the guns and stores
removed without any molestation. A blockade was established; and while
the Spaniards were sent across the Guadiana, to operate against the
French posts, Lord Wellington took a position in front of Albuera. On
the 19th, the allies retired on the Caya, and Soult’s advanced guard
entered Badajoz.
The united force of the French marshals was greatly superior,
particularly in cavalry, to that of Wellington;[148] but the Caya
afforded a strong position, and the British general determined to abide
a battle.
A _reconnaissance_ by Soult and Marmont, on the 22nd of June, induced
a belief that an action would result. Wellington, with admirable tact,
kept his masses out of sight, and the marshals failed in discovering
his dispositions. The British bivouacs were in the woods contiguous to
the river:--head-quarters at Vicente, Hill’s corps at Torre de More on
the right, and Picton’s division, on the left, at Campo Mayor.
On the same morning that the French marshals had examined the allied
position, a strong cavalry force was detached from the enemy’s posts,
to cross the Guadiana and move towards Elvas. Nothing would have
particularly marked this demonstration, had not an English picket of
sixty men, with three officers, been cut off and made prisoners, by
mistaking the French for Portuguese dragoons. The absurd fancy indulged
in at home, of imitating foreign patterns in clothing the cavalry,
led to numerous mistakes; while it greatly embarrassed officers, in
ascertaining correctly whether troops, when at a trifling distance,
were in reality friends or foes.
For a month the French marshals remained together; their numerous
cavalry scouring the face of the country to an immense extent, and
wasting it of every thing that was convertible into sustenance for
either men or horses. At last, these precarious supplies, obtained
from an impoverished country, failed altogether; and Soult and Marmont
retired from Estramadura,--the latter, marching northwards, and the
former falling back upon Seville.
On this movement being made, Wellington instantly changed his quarters,
first to Portalegre, and afterwards to Fuente Guinaldo. The occupation
of the posts and villages contiguous to Ciudad Rodrigo, must, of
necessity, cut off from that garrison every chance of a casual supply;
while the distance of the French cantonments (sixty miles) would
make it impossible for either of the marshals to introduce a convoy,
unless it were accompanied and protected by an entire _corps d’armée_.
Wellington had calculated on these difficulties; his plans were soundly
conceived; and they were carried out with that steady resolution, which
has always characterized the greatest general that Britain ever claimed.
As had been anticipated, Ciudad Rodrigo became exceedingly straitened;
and the French marshals, at great inconvenience, were obliged to
concentrate at Salamanca, to cover the introduction of supplies, which
at every cost, must be thrown into the fortress. Rumour, of course,
was busy; one report making them fifty thousand, and another swelling
their numbers to eighty. The allied general, however, determined to
retain his cantonments; and the position of Guinaldo was strengthened
by field-works; while the different divisions were posted so as to
admit of speedy concentration. On the right bank of the Agueda, the
light division guarded the Sierra de Gata,--while Picton held the more
advanced position of El Bodon.
The position was too extensive to be strong--and its communications
were liable to interruption, as the fords of the Agueda were frequently
rendered impassable by sudden rains. The heights of El Bodon and
Pastores were on either side encircled by plains, partially wooded, and
reaching from Rodrigo to the Coa. Hence, the position was unsafe; for,
if its flanks were turned, the retirement of a corps that held it on
Guinaldo, would have become a very doubtful matter.
On the 23rd, the French moved forward from Tamames, and reconnoitred
the British position; and on the next day they pushed a convoy into
Badajoz, protected by four divisions of infantry and six thousand
cavalry. On the 25th, the English pickets were driven across the
Azava--while crossing the Agueda in great force, Montbrun moved
directly on Guinaldo, and turned the heights on which Picton’s division
had been posted. Considerably detached, as from the extent of the
position the British regiments necessarily were, their situation
became all but desperate. Picton, with the right brigade, was at El
Bodon; two regiments at Pastores; while the 5th and 77th British, the
21st Portuguese, two brigades of guns, and three squadrons of German
and English cavalry, occupied the height over which the Guinaldo road
passes.
Lord Wellington ordered up assistance, on perceiving how dangerously
the third division was circumstanced; but before any reached the scene
of action, its own and often-tried resource had saved it,--the daring
gallantry, that neither an isolated situation nor an overwhelming enemy
could disturb.
The advance of the French cavalry was beautiful; the sun shone
brilliantly out, and as their numerous squadrons, in long array,
approached the heights occupied by the British infantry, nothing could
be more imposing than their military attitude.[149] The cool and steady
determination with which Colville’s brigade waited the enemy’s attack
was truly British. While the French masses were defiling along the
road, the English infantry remained in columns of battalions behind the
ridge, and the cavalry stood dismounted--each dragoon with the bridle
on his arm, and apparently as careless to coming events, as if he were
on the parade-ground of his barrack, waiting for the trumpet call to
“fall in.” But when the advanced squadrons were about to mount the
ridge, the infantry formed line; the dragoons sprang to their saddles;
and the artillery, which had occasionally cannonaded the hostile
squadrons as they came within their range, opened with additional
spirit, and poured from the height a torrent of grape and case shot
that occasioned a serious loss to the enemy.
The French appeared to feel sensibly the effect produced by the fire,
and a brigade cheered and charged up the heights. The men stood by
their guns to the last, but eventually they were obliged to retire--
and the French dragoons gained the battery, and the cannon were taken.
Their possession by the enemy was but for a moment. The 5th regiment
came steadily forward in line, and after delivering a shattering
volley, lowered their bayonets, and boldly advanced to charge the
cavalry. This--the first instance of horsemen being assailed by
infantry in line--was brilliantly successful. The French were hurried
down the height--and the guns recaptured, were limbered up, and
brought away.
Nor on the other side of the position were the British and German
cavalry less gloriously engaged. Again and again, the French dragoons
charged up the hill--and as regularly were they met sword to sword,
repulsed and beaten back.
But the hill could not be held with such inferior numbers as the
British. A column of great strength got unperceived in the rear of
the right--not a moment could be lost--and an instant retreat was
unavoidable. Indeed, the escape of these devoted regiments seemed
hopeless. Montbrun brought forward overwhelming numbers against the
left flank--and the French dragoons had cut the right off from its
communication with El Bodon. The 83rd united itself with the 5th and
77th, and the Portuguese 21st had already commenced retreating, and
gained the plain. The cavalry, finding itself almost surrounded,
galloped off at speed--and the British regiments were left alone, to
save themselves or perish.
They reached the plain,--Montbrun’s numerous squadrons came on with
loud huzzas, and in such force, that the annihilation of these weak
battalions seemed inevitable. But the French had yet to learn of what
stern stuff the British soldier is composed. In a moment, the 5th and
77th formed square, and in steady silence awaited the coming onset.
The charge was made--the cheering of the dragoons pealed over the
battle-field as they came on at speed, and with a fiery determination
that nothing could withstand. Against every face of the square a
hostile squadron galloped; the earth shook--the cheers rose louder--
another moment of that headlong speed must bring the dragoons upon the
bayonets of the kneeling front rank. Then, from the British square a
shattering volley was poured in,--the smoke cleared away,--and, but
a few yards from the faces of the square, men and horses were rolling
on the plain in death. The charge was repulsed--the ranks disordered--
and the French dragoons, recoiling from that fearless array which
they had vainly striven to penetrate, rode hastily off to reform
their broken ranks, and remove themselves from an incessant stream of
musketry that had already proved so fatal.
In the mean time, Picton had disengaged the regiments of the right
brigade from the enclosures of El Bodon, and joined the 5th and 77th--
and the whole retreated across the plain in beautiful order, presenting
so bold an attitude, whenever the French made any demonstrations
of charging, that they never attempted to close on the squares
again. Still, Montbrun hung upon the rear and flanks of the allies,
maintaining a trifling cannonade--while his guns were warmly replied
to by the English artillery. On getting near Guinaldo, a support of
both infantry and cavalry came forward--and the French abandoned
the pursuit, after being roughly handled by the fire of the British
musketry, and the bold charges of the few squadrons on the field, whose
conduct all through that trying day had been most gallant.
The British position was infinitely too extensive for divisions weak
as those of Cole and Picton to hold with safety. Lord Wellington had
therefore decided on retiring to the Coa, and halt there upon his
selected battle-ground; but unfortunately the light division had taken
a mountain route instead of fording the Agueda; and General Craufurd,
ignorant that Gata and Perales were in possession of the French, was
marching directly on the enemy. This mistake might have not only
occasioned the loss of the light division, but seriously endangered
Cole and Picton at Guinaldo. Nor was the alarm lessened on the morning
of the 26th, when Marmont got under arms, and exhibited sixty thousand
splendid troops,[150] within little more than cannon-shot of the two
isolated divisions who held the heights above. Fortunately, the French
marshal had little suspicion of his rival’s weakness, and amused
himself with manœuvring his splendid army, instead of overwhelming the
allied brigades, which were completely within his reach--alone and
unsupported.
On the preceding night, the 60th and 74th, who had been in position at
Pastores, and cut off by Montbrun in his attack on El Bodon, forded the
Agueda, moved along its right bank, and, after an extraordinary march
of fifteen hours, reached the British cantonments in safety. At three
in the afternoon, the light division joined; and at night the whole
retired towards the position where Wellington had resolved to offer
battle.
On the 27th, the French pushed forward a strong corps, and a sharp
affair occurred at Aldea de Ponte. The village was twice carried by the
French,--and as often retaken by Pakenham, with the fusileer brigade
and Portuguese Caçadores.
That night Lord Wellington fell back and occupied his selected ground.
The Coa was in his rear,--his right extending to the Sierra de Mesas,
his centre occupying the village of Soita, and his left resting on the
river at Rendo.
This position was too formidable, from its narrow front, to be easily
assailed, and the enemy declined an attack. Soon after the French
corps separated, and resumed their former cantonments. Marmont retired
on the valley of the Tagus, Dorsenne fell back on Salamanca, Girard
moved to Mafra, and Foy proceeded to Placentia. The French operations,
on the whole, were a miserable failure. It is true, that Rodrigo was
relieved--but in every other essay their designs had failed; and
Wellington, with an inferior force, completely checked them.
ARROYO DE MOLINOS, AND SIEGE OF TARIFA.
Girard invades Estremadura.--Hill marches against him.--Surprises
him at Arroyo de Molinos.--Spanish affairs.--Fall of Tarragona.
Proceedings of the French.--Siege of Tarifa.--Total defeat of
Laval.
General Hill had established his head-quarters at Portalegre, and
cantoned his division in the surrounding villages. The position was
well chosen; and while it enabled him to observe Badajoz closely, he
had the power of concentrating his troops at the shortest notice; while
no movement of any consequence could be made by the enemy without the
knowledge of the English general.
After retiring from Ciudad Rodrigo, Soult had turned his attention
against the newly-raised army of Castanos; and Girard, with a moveable
column, was despatched into Estremadura, to narrow his line of action
and cripple his supplies.
Girard’s presence was most injurious, and threatened the very existence
of an army whose means of sustenance must be drawn from the country
alone. Throughout the Peninsular war, the Spanish commissariate was but
a name. Castanos’ support, therefore, depended on his own exertions;
and it was absolutely necessary that the French should be driven from
that portion of Estremadura, or the Spanish general could not subsist
his raw and ill-appointed levies.
That task was consigned to Hill, assisted by some Spanish troops, under
the command of Giron and Penne Villemur. Apprised of the advance of
the allies, Girard fell back from Aliseda; and, after a cavalry affair
with Villemur, he retired, first to Arroyo Puerco--and then, passing
Caceres, marched on Tollemacha. Hill, on gaining correct intelligence
of his route, proceeded by the shorter road of Aldea de Cano and Casa
Antonio; while Girard, leaving a rear-guard at Albola, fell back on the
morning of the 27th upon Arroyo de Molinos.
This little town stands at the base of a steep and rugged mountain,
one of the extreme ridges of the Sierra de Montanches. The height
that overlooks it is nearly inaccessible, forming a crescent behind
the town, whose points are about two miles apart. Beneath the eastern
point, the Truxillo road is carried; while that of Merida runs at
right angles with that of Alcuescar--and the Medellin road between
the former two. A plain stretches between Arroyo and Alcuescar,
interspersed with a few patches of oaks and cork-trees. To occupy
these several roads, and thus cut off Girard’s retreat, was Hill’s
great object. By a forced march he reached Alcuescar in the evening,
lay under arms for the night, moved at two in the morning, and,
undiscovered, halted within half a mile of the French corps, who were
leisurely preparing to resume their march, and little dreamed of his
dangerous proximity. The bad roads, however, delayed Hill’s advance;
and it was past six o’clock before the columns of attack were formed.
The first brigade, under Lieutenant-colonel Stewart, was ordered to
attack the town. The second, under Howard, moved rapidly to the right
of Arroyo, and occupied the Medellin road. Between these columns, the
cavalry of Villemur was posted, to charge, if necessary, or support
either corps that might require it.
The weather, though distressing to the troops, was favourable for a
surprise. It rained heavily, and a storm of wind was raging. No enemy
interrupted the allied advance--for their outlying picket had returned
to the town, as Girard had ordered his division to march at daybreak.
When the attack was being made, the first French brigade were filing
from the streets of Arroyo by the Merida road, under a perfect
assurance that their march would be unmolested; when suddenly a dragoon
galloped in, announcing that a body of men were marching rapidly
towards the town, but the mist was too thick to permit their uniform to
be seen.
Girard was convinced that these troops were Spanish, and jocosely
remarked, that “Messieurs les Anglois lay too long a-bed, to be
stirring by times on such a morning.” But a few minutes undeceived
him,--a loud cheer was heard, and instantly the Highland regiments
appeared, their bagpipes playing “Hey, Johnny Cope, are ye waking yet?”
They entered with unloaded muskets--the bayonet was to do all--no
prisoners were to be secured--they were directed to press on--bear
down all resistance--and push directly for the point of the mountain.
The French corps that had already commenced its march, formed in
squares of regiments outside the town, between the roads of Medellin
and Merida, with the cavalry on the left--and Stewart’s brigade
pressed forward through the streets, leaving to a wing of the 50th, the
task of securing such of the enemy, as this sudden attack prevented
from escaping with the columns. Finding the French in square, the
71st lined the fences, while the 92nd formed and opened its fire. The
cavalry (Spanish), joined by a few English hussars, charged and routed
the horsemen of Girard, just as Wilson’s Portuguese brigade broke
through the mist, and appeared on the left and rear of this devoted
band. The French cavalry instantly galloped off; and the infantry threw
down their arms, and endeavoured to escape by the mountain. The paths
over the Sierra, difficult at all times, were now a wretched route to
retreat by,--the advanced British regiment was already mixed with
the rear of the fugitives--and a scrambling pursuit succeeded. In a
regular rout resistance is seldom offered; and a number of prisoners,
the arms, baggage--in short, the whole _matériel_ of Girard’s
division, were taken by the victors with trifling loss.
After this successful expedition, Hill retired again to Portalegre; the
troops took up their old cantonments--and for a time active operations
terminated.
The success of the British arms had a very powerful effect in rousing
the spirits of the Spaniards, whose armies had hitherto been so
frequently and signally defeated. The irregular bands of guerilla
leaders everywhere increased--and their activity and enterprise
crippled the resources of the French, and caused them much alarm
and embarrassment. Although generally unfortunate in the field, in
desultory warfare the Spanish partisans were formidable; and in the
south it required incessant vigilance on the part of the invaders, to
secure their detached posts, and move their convoys through the country.
One of those fortunate affairs--few and far between--that shed a
passing gleam of glory upon the Spanish arms, occurred at Vals,
between Eugene and Sarsfield. The French were completely beaten, and
Eugene himself killed.
Other operations of no great moment were attended with varied success.
Suchet had succeeded Macdonald; and by his activity the province of
Catalonia was overrun, the Spanish strongholds gradually wrested from
their possession, and Tarragona regularly besieged.
From the strength of the place, and the number of the garrison, the
city was obstinately held against the French. But one after the
other, its defences were carried by storm--and as no quarter was
given, scenes, too horrible for conception, were enacted. The men
were savagely butchered,--the women exposed to the most dreadful
indignities,--and in the annals of war, among many instances of
frightful excesses perpetrated by an infuriated soldiery, those
occurring at the storm of Tarragona[151] will be found the worst.
In the south of Spain, Ballasteros had been successful in some affairs
with the French detachments; and the people of Ronda, a mountain
district of great strength, were up in arms. In consequence, Godinot
was despatched by Soult with a division against Ballasteros, who was
eventually driven to the extremity of the Peninsula, and obliged to
obtain protection under the guns of Gibraltar.
A corps of British and Spanish troops had, in this interim, been
landed from Cadiz, and took possession of Tarifa, and Godinot put
his division in motion to attack them. His line of march was by the
coast--and some British vessels having been apprised that he was
advancing, had anchored close to the pass of La Pena. On attempting to
get forward, the ships opened their batteries, and swept the road with
such excellent effect, that Godinot abandoned the route, and hastily
retreated.
Soult, however, had determined that Tarifa should be reduced; and
Laval, with considerable reinforcements, was directed to invest it
without delay. Tarifa was a place of little strength--an old slight
wall, connecting a number of towers, forming its whole protection.
The town is traversed by a mountain river, whose entrance is secured
by a tower and portcullis, while the bed of the stream was strongly
palisaded. The outlet was defended by an old castle and tower called
the Guzmans. Tarifa joins a promontory of small extent, by a sandy spot
of land and a causeway; and on the highest sandhill, called Catalina,
a field-work, armed with a twelve-pounder, had been hastily thrown up.
The presence of a British line-of-battle ship and frigate in the bay
secured the island, and prevented any operations from being attempted
within the range of their powerful batteries.
On the 20th, the place was invested by Laval. The siege commenced
with an evil omen; for on the next morning a French picket having
incautiously advanced, was suddenly cut off by a party of the 11th
regiment, and captured.
A daring sally was made next day. Some of the English garrison
penetrated the French camp and seized a gun; of course they were unable
to carry it away, but they managed to draw the enemy under the fire of
the ships and tower, by which they suffered considerably.
On the 22nd, Laval broke ground, and pushed forward his approaches
by the eastern front until the 26th. On the 29th, the French having
received their siege artillery, the guns opened on the wall, while
their howitzers shelled the island. A very few discharges shook the old
and feeble masonry--and in a few hours it came down in such masses, as
formed an enormous breach, and left the place equally open to assault
or escalade.
The street of Tarifa immediately behind the breach was fourteen
feet beneath its level. Every preparation was made to receive the
assault, the houses that commanded the breach being fortified and
garrisoned, the street effectually barricaded, and the troops carefully
distributed. To the 47th and Spaniards the defence of the breach was
entrusted--the 87th held the portcullis, tower, and rampart; while a
rifle company connected the regiments with each other.
Although for sixty feet the breach was open, and offered an easy
ascent, the French did not venture to storm. At night, salvos of grape
were fired by the French batteries--but in the intervals between the
discharges, the garrison cleared the foot of the breach, and enlarged
their means of defence behind it.
On the night of the 30th, a tremendous rain increased the river to such
a height, that the torrent, sweeping all before it, broke down the
palisades and injured the portcullis. But this calamity did not daunt
the British; they laboured vigorously all night, and by morning the
defences were restored.
The mountain flood subsided quickly, and at daylight, a battalion of
French grenadiers quietly approached by the river bed, and rushed
forward to break down the stockade. Not a shot had been fired by the
British, who waited their approach with perfect coolness; but when
they touched the portcullis, a rolling volley was delivered with such
terrible effect, that the head of the column was annihilated, and all
that composed it perished, from the officer that led, to the poor
drum-boy who beat the _pas de charge_. The river bed was choked with
corpses--that approach was effectually barricaded by the dead,--while
rushing up the banks, the French grenadiers opened their musketry,
assisted by a fire from the trenches, and a number of pits in front
of their lines, which had been dug by Laval to afford a cover for his
sharpshooters. But the column had been too much shattered by the
first discharge to recover its courage--a sustained fire of British
musketry, closely and efficiently kept up, cut off the boldest of the
French soldiers who still made any thing like an effort at advancing--
while a six-pounder on the town wall, enfiladed the assailants at
scarcely pistol distance, and kept up an unceasing torrent of grape,
that tore up the masses of the enemy, and drove them once more for
shelter to the hollow. It was hopeless to continue longer under this
murderous fire--and the French retired at speed to their trenches,
leaving the bed and banks of the stream heaped with corpses; while the
cheering of the garrison, and the band of the 87th, as it struck up a
national quickstep, strangely contrasted with the groans of dying men,
and the still more harrowing outcries of the wounded.
Every kindness was bestowed upon these sufferers by their generous
enemy. Those who could be carried off the field were brought through
the breach and dressed by English surgeons, or allowed to be removed to
their own camp. The weather became horrible--rain fell in torrents--
the besiegers and besieged were equally inconvenienced--and on the
night of the 4th, Laval having destroyed part of his artillery and
buried the remainder, retreated, and abandoned the siege. During
the time the French remained before Tarifa, their loss exceeded a
thousand men, while the British casualties did not reach much above one
hundred.[152]
The Spanish armies continued their operations, and generally with
indifferent success. Blake and the army of Murcia were totally defeated
by Soult at Lorca. The Spanish general afterwards assumed the command
of the troops in Valencia--and Suchet entered that province in
considerable force.
At Murviedro, the French marshal, attempting by a _coup de main_ to
carry the place, was repulsed with considerable loss; but, having
brought up his siege artillery, he reduced the castle of Oropesa, and
renewed his efforts with additional means and increased vigour. His
first assault failed; and Blake advancing to raise the siege, Suchet
determined to offer battle--and on the 24th the French and Spaniards
made their dispositions, and formed in each other’s front. Early on
the 25th, the latter advanced, and attacked their enemy. For a time the
Spanish wings drove back the French, gained ground on either flank and
carried an important height; but, unfortunately, they had endangered
their centre by a too great extension of their line; and Suchet,
bringing up his reserve, strengthened his left wing, and burst upon
Blake’s weak point with a fury not to be resisted. The Spaniards were
broken, their left wing cut to pieces in detail; while the right, by
a gallant effort, retreated in good order by the Valencia road. The
Spanish loss was estimated at seven thousand _hors de combat_; and
Murviedro surrendered on the following day.
Blake, after his defeat, took a strong position under the walls of
Valencia, threw up field-works, destroyed some bridges, and fortified
the others; while Suchet established himself on the left bank of
the Guadalavia, and waited for the reinforcements for which he had
applied. On Christmas-day a strong corps arrived from Catalonia, and
strengthened the French army by ten thousand men; and on the next
morning Suchet crossed the river, drove the Spanish left from their
intrenchments, and obliged Blake, with the remainder of his army, to
shut himself up in Valencia.
Overburthened by a population and troops amounting to one hundred
thousand souls, the city could not hold out long. Blake unsuccessfully
endeavoured to force Suchet’s line, but was again driven into the town.
A bombardment ensued; and on the 8th of January, a capitulation took
place; the Spanish army becoming prisoners of war, and Valencia opening
its gates to the conqueror.
SIEGE OF CIUDAD RODRIGO.
Lord Wellington makes secret preparations to besiege Ciudad
Rodrigo.--Siege commences.--City carried by assault--and given
up to plunder.
A campaign highly honourable to the British arms had ended, and the
rival armies had taken up cantonments for the winter months, each
covering an extensive range of country, for the better obtaining of
forage and supplies. Active operations for a season were suspended--
and officers, whose private concerns or bad health required a temporary
leave of absence, had asked and received permission to revisit England.
The restoration of the works of Almeida, which the French had half
destroyed, occupied the leisure time of the British and Portuguese
artificers--while, for the ostensible purpose of arming that fortress,
siege stores and a battering train were conveyed thither by water
carriage--the Douro having been rendered navigable by the English
engineers for an extended distance of forty miles.
But the arming of Almeida was but a feint--the reduction of
Ciudad Rodrigo was the real object of Lord Wellington,--and with
indefatigable zeal he applied himself to obtain the means. A waggon
train was organized--six hundred carts, on an improved construction,
were built; and while the French marshal, supposing that the weakness
of Lord Wellington was a security against any act of aggression upon
his part, detached Montbrun to Valencia, and Dorsenne to the Asturias
and Montana, the English general was quietly preparing to strike a
sudden and unexpected blow, and completed his necessary arrangements
for investing Rodrigo the 6th of January.
Considering the season of the year, and the nakedness of the country
for many miles around the threatened fortress, the intended operation
was bold to a degree. The horses had scarcely any forage, and the men
were literally destitute of bread or shelter. The new year came in
inclemently--rain fell in torrents--and though the investment was
delayed two days, the brigade (Mackinnon’s) that marched from Aldea
de Ponte, left nearly four hundred men behind, in a route of only
four-and-twenty miles, numbers of whom perished on the line of march,
or died subsequently from the fatigue they had endured.
Ciudad Rodrigo stands on high ground, in the centre of an extensive
plain it domineers. The city is erected on the right bank of the
Agueda, which there branches into numerous channels, and forms a number
of small islands. The citadel commands the town, and standing on an
elevated mound is difficult of access on every side. Since their late
occupation, the French had added considerably to the strength of the
place. The suburbs were secured against a _coup de main_, by fortifying
two convents on their flanks, and another nearly in the centre. On the
north side the ground rises in two places; that furthest from the works
is thirteen feet above the level of the ramparts, from which it is
distant six hundred yards. The other, of lesser altitude, is scarcely
two hundred paces. On the former the enemy had erected a redoubt; it
was protected by a fortified convent called San Francisco, as well as
the artillery of the place, which commanded the approaches from the
hill.
The Agueda is fordable in several places, the best passage being
within pistol-shot of the walls. In winter, from the sudden floodings
of the river, these fords cannot be relied upon--and a bridge of
eighteen trestles, with a platform four hundred feet long, was secretly
constructed in the citadel of Almeida and conveyed to Salices.
Four divisions were entrusted with the duties of the siege. They took
their turns in course--each for twenty-four hours furnishing the
requisite guards and working parties.
On the night of the 8th of January, the investment was regularly
commenced, and the redoubt on the upper Teson stormed by three
companies of the 52nd with trifling loss. Ground was broken on its
flank--and by the morning the trench was four feet wide and three in
depth. On the following night the first parallel was opened; and the
outlines of three batteries, for eleven guns each, were traced.
The weather continued dreadfully inclement; and as it was believed that
Marmont would endeavour to raise the siege, Wellington decided on rapid
operations, and resolved to attempt a storm even with the counterscarps
entire. Both the besiegers and the besieged were active in their
operations. On the night of the 13th, the convent of Santa Cruz was
taken; and on the 14th, while the division was coming to relieve the
working parties, the garrison made a sortie, overturned the gabions in
advance of the parallel, and would have succeeded in spiking the guns,
but for the spirited opposition of a few workmen and engineers, who
checked the attempt, until the head of the division closing up obliged
the French to retire.
On the morning of the 14th, the batteries were nearly ready for
breaching, mounted with twenty-three 24-pounders and two eighteens. At
four o’clock in the afternoon their fire commenced,--and a spectacle
more strikingly magnificent, it has rarely been the good fortune even
of a British soldier to witness.
“The evening chanced to be remarkably beautiful and still; there was
not a cloud in the sky, nor a breath of wind astir, when suddenly
the roar of artillery broke in upon its calmness, and volumes of
smoke rose slowly from the batteries. These floating gently towards
the town, soon enveloped the lower part of the hill, and even the
ramparts and bastions in a dense veil; while the towers and summits
lifting their heads over the haze, showed like fairy buildings, or
those unsubstantial castles which are sometimes seen in the clouds
on a summer’s day. The flashes from the British guns, answered as
they were from the artillery in the front, and the roar of their
thunder reverberating among the remote mountains of the Sierra de
Francisca; these, with the rattle of the balls against the walls,
proved altogether a scene which, to be rightly understood, must be
experienced.”[153]
That night the convent of San Francisco was escaladed by a wing of the
40th,--and the French having abandoned the suburbs, they were occupied
by the besiegers.
At daybreak on the 15th the batteries resumed their fire, and at
sunset the walls of the main scarp and fausse braye[154] were visibly
shaken.[155] Under cover of a fog on the 16th, the second parallel was
prolonged; but the front of the works was so limited, and the fire of
the enemy so concentrated and correct, that it required immense time
to throw up a battery. The difficulty may be readily imagined, from
the fact of the French having discharged at the approaches, upwards
of twenty thousand shot and shells. Another battery of seven guns was
opened on the 18th. On the 19th, two breaches were distinctly visible
from the trenches, and on being carefully reconnoitred, they were
declared practicable. Lord Wellington examined them in person,--
decided on storming them that evening,--and from behind the reverse of
one of the approaches, issued written orders for the assault.
The French were not inactive. The larger breach, exposing a shattered
front of more than one hundred feet, had been carefully mined--the
base of the wall strewn with shells and grenades, and the top, where
troops might escalade, similarly defended. Behind, a deep retrenchment
was cut to insulate the broken rampart, in the event of its being
carried by storm. The lesser breach was narrow at the top, exceedingly
steep, with a four-and-twenty-pounder turned sideways, that blocked the
passage up, except an opening between the muzzle and the wall, by which
two files might enter.
Early in the evening, the third and light divisions were moved from
their cantonments. At six, the third moved to the rear of the first
parallel, two gun-shots from the main breach,--while the light formed
behind a convent, three hundred yards in front of the smaller one.
Darkness came on,--and with it came the order to “Stand to arms.” With
calm determination, the soldiers of the third division heard their
commanding officer announce the main breach as the object of attack;
and every man prepared himself promptly for the desperate struggle.
Off went the packs,--the stocks were unbuckled,--the cartouch box
arranged to meet the hand more readily,--flints were screwed home,--
every one after his individual fancy, fitting himself for action. The
companies were carefully told off--the sergeants called the rolls,--
and not a man was missing.
The town clock struck seven,--and its sonorous bell knelled the fate
of hundreds. Presently the forlorn hope formed under the leading of the
senior subaltern of the 88th, William Mackie: and Picton and Mackinnon
rode up and joined the division. The former’s address to the Connaught
Rangers was brief, it was to “Spare powder, and trust entirely to cold
iron.” The word was given,--“Forward!” was repeated in under tones,--
the forlorn hope led the way,--the storming party, carrying bags
filled with dry grass, followed,--the division in column succeeded,--
all moved on in desperate silence, and of the third division not a file
hung back.
The fifth regiment joined from the right, and all pressed forward to
the breach. The bags, thrown into the ditch by the sappers, reduced
the depth one half; ladders were instantly raised, the storming party
mounted, and after a short but severe struggle, the breach was won.
Before the storming party had entered the ditch, the shells and
combustibles had been prematurely exploded, occasioning but trifling
loss to the assailants. The French instantly abandoned the breach,
sprang the mines, and fell back behind the retrenchment, from which,
and from the neighbouring houses, they maintained a murderous fire.
In the mean time the light division had stormed the lesser breach. It
was most gallantly carried; and the loss would not have been severe,
but for the accidental explosion of a service magazine behind the
traverse, by which several officers and a number of men were destroyed.
Directed by the heavy fire at the main breach, part of the 43rd and
95th rushed along the ramparts to assist their comrades of the third
division; and Pack’s brigade, having converted their feint upon the
southern face of the works into a real attack, entered the “fausse
braye,” and drove the French before them with the bayonet. Thus
threatened in their rear, the enemy abandoned the retrenchment; and,
still resisting, were driven from street to street, until they flung
down their arms, and asked and received that quarter which the laws of
war denied, and the fury of an excited soldiery left them but little
hope of obtaining.
The town was won; but, alas! many of the best and bravest had fallen.
Craufurd[156] was mortally wounded in leading the light division to
the lesser breach; and Mackinnon[157] blown up, after having gained
the ramparts of the great one. During the siege, the allies lost
three officers and seventy-seven killed; twenty-four officers and five
hundred men wounded; while in the storm, six officers and one hundred
and forty men fell, and sixty officers and nearly five hundred men
were wounded. The French loss was severe; and the commandant, General
Barrie, with eighty officers and seventeen hundred men, were taken
prisoners. There were found upon the works one hundred and nine pieces
of artillery, a battering train of forty-four guns, and an armoury and
arsenal filled with military stores.
Thus fell Rodrigo. On the evening of the 8th the first ground was
broken,--on that of the 19th the British colours were flying on the
ramparts. Massena, after a tedious bombardment, took a full month to
reduce it; Wellington carried it by assault in eleven days. No wonder
that Marmont, in his despatch to Berthier, was puzzled to account
for the rapid reduction of a place, respecting whose present safety
and ultimate relief, he had previously forwarded the most encouraging
assurances.[158]
After all resistance had ceased, the usual scene of riot, plunder, and
confusion, which by prescriptive right the stormers of a town enjoy,
occurred. Every house was entered and despoiled; the spirit stores
were forced open; the soldiery got desperately excited; and in the
madness of their intoxication, committed many acts of silly and wanton
violence. All plundered what they could--and in turn they were robbed
by their own companions. Brawls and bloodshed resulted--and the same
men who, shoulder to shoulder, had won their way over the “imminent
deadly breach,” fought with demoniac ferocity for some disputed article
of plunder. At last, worn out by fatigue, and stupified with brandy,
they sank into brutal insensibility; and on the second day, with few
exceptions, rejoined their regiments; the assault and sacking of
Rodrigo appearing in their confused imaginations, rather like some
troubled dream than a desperate and blood-stained reality.
On the second day, order was tolerably restored; stragglers had
returned to their regiments; the breaches were repaired, the trenches
filled in, and the place being once more perfectly defensible, was
given up by Lord Wellington to Castanos, the captain-general of the
province, who had been present at the siege. Additional honours were
deservedly conferred upon the conqueror of Rodrigo. Wellington was
created an English earl and a Spanish duke--and a farther annuity
of 2,000_l._ a year was voted by a grateful country, to support the
dignities she had so deservedly conferred.
But another and a bolder blow was yet to be struck. Again the troops
were put in motion, and the order was obeyed with pleasure, all being
too happy to quit a place where every supply had been exhausted, and
every object recalled the loss of relatives and friends.[159] Leaving
a division of infantry on the Agueda, the remainder of the army moved
rapidly back upon the Tagus, and, crossing the river, headquarters
were established at Elvas, on the 11th. There every preparation was
completed for one of the boldest of Lord Wellington’s attempts,--
for on the 16th, a pontoon bridge across the Guadiana was traversed
by the light, third, and fourth divisions--and Badajoz regularly
invested.[160]
SIEGE OF BADAJOZ.
Siege of Badajoz.--The Castle assaulted, and carried by escalade.--
Philippon surrenders.--Town given up to the soldiery, and sacked.
The secrecy and despatch with which Lord Wellington had formed or
collected all necessary _matériel_ for besieging the formidable place
on whose reduction he had determined, was astonishing. The heavy guns
had been brought by sea from Lisbon, transhipped into craft of easy
draught of water, and thus conveyed up the river until they reached
the banks of the Guadiana. Gabions and fascines[161] were prepared
in the surrounding woods--intrenching-tools provided--the pontoon
bridge brought up from Abrantez--and the battering train, comprising
sixteen 24 and twenty 18-pounders, with sixteen 24-pound howitzers,
were forwarded from Almeida, and parked upon the glacis of Elvas, in
readiness for the opening of the siege.
Though not entirely aware of the extent of these hostile preparations,
Philippon, the governor of Badajoz, had apprised Marshal Soult that the
fortress was threatened, and demanded a supply of shells and gunpowder.
This requisition, though immediately complied with, was not obtained--
for Sir Rowland Hill, with his characteristic activity, prevented the
convoy from reaching its destination. Indeed nothing which could secure
the place had been forgotten or neglected by its governor. The forts
of San Christoval and Pardelaras had been considerably strengthened
and enlarged,--the former by a lunette,[162] magazine and bomb-proof,
and the latter by a general repair. Badajoz was provisioned for five
weeks,--the garrison was numerous and well appointed,--and, confident
in his own resources and skill, Philippon, after two successful
defences, resolutely prepared himself for a third--and with a perfect
conviction that, like the others, it, too, would prove successful.
The force that invested the fortress on the 16th was placed under
the command of Marshal Beresford, and consisted of the divisions of
Barnard, Picton, and Colville. The first, sixth, and seventh divisions,
with the cavalry of La Marchant and Slade, were placed in advance, at
Larena, Mafra, and Los Santos, to observe the movements of Soult; while
the second British division, and the Portuguese under General Hamilton,
with a cavalry brigade attached, occupied Merida and Almendralajo,
to prevent any junction between Soult and Marmont, should the latter
attempt to unite his forces with those of the Duke of Dalmatia.
Badajoz is easily described. Round one portion of the town, the
rivulets Calamon and Rivellas sweep, and unite with the Guadiana,
which flows in the face of the works, and in front of the heights of
San Christoval. The castle stands above the union of these rivers.
The fortifications are exceedingly strong--the bastions and curtains
regular--while formidable outworks, the forts of Pardelaras, Picarina,
and San Christoval, complete the exterior defences.[163]
A close _reconnaissance_ at once convinced Lord Wellington that the
defences had been amazingly improved--and, as time pressed, and the
means of regular investment were but indifferent, he determined that
the bastion of La Trinidad, from its unfinished counterguard,[164]
should be battered. To effect this, the Picarina redoubt, forming
nearly an angle with the bastion, and the lunette of San Rocque, must
necessarily be carried.
The night of the 16th was bad enough to mask any daring essay--and
rain, darkness, and storm favoured the bold attempt. Ground was
accordingly broken--and though but one hundred and seventy yards from
the covered-way, the working parties were neither heard nor molested.
The 17th and 18th were similarly employed--but under a heavy fire from
the Picarina fort, and such of the guns upon the works as could be
turned by the garrison on the approaches.
The evening of the 18th, however, produced a very different scene--
for the enemy became assailant--and a _sortie_ was made with fifteen
hundred men, accompanied by some forty cavalry. To the works, this
sudden assault occasioned but little mischief. The gabions[165] were
overturned, some intrenching tools captured, and great confusion
caused among the working parties; but the French were speedily driven
back, after causing much alarm, and a loss of one hundred and fifty in
killed and wounded. Colonel Fletcher, the chief of the engineers, was
unfortunately among the latter.
The weather was in every way unfavourable for prosecuting the siege,
and elemental influences seemed to have united with Philippon against
the allied commander. The rain fell in torrents--the river rose far
beyond its customary height,--the pontoons swamped at their moorings--
and all were swept away. From the violence of the current, the flying
bridges worked but slowly, and serious apprehensions were entertained
lest the communications should be interrupted with the other side,
and, of necessity, that the siege must be raised. To forward the works
required incredible fatigue; the ground was soaked with moisture; the
trenches more than knee-deep with mud and rain; the revêtements[166]
of the batteries crumbled away under any pressure, and it was almost
impossible to lay platforms for the guns. Indeed, had the works been
ready for their reception, the task of transporting heavy artillery
across a surface, rendered a perfect swamp by the incessant torrents
which had fallen for days without any intermission, would have been a
most laborious duty. Fortunately, the weather changed, the ground dried
partially, and the works were carried on with additional spirit. By
employing teams of oxen, assisted by numerous fatigue parties, the guns
were brought forward, and the batteries armed--and on the 25th they
opened on the Picarina and the place itself, with excellent effect,
while Philippon returned the fire from every gun upon the ramparts that
could be brought to bear.
Perceiving the true object of the besiegers, and certain that the
Picarina would be assailed, ample measures were taken for its defence.
The ditch was deepened, the gorge secured by an additional palisade;
under the angles of the glacis fougasses[167] were placed, and shells
and grenades laid along the parapet, to roll down upon the storming
party at the moment of attack. The ditch was exposed to a flanking
fire, and two hundred spare muskets were ranged along the banquet.
Every means, in short, were adopted that could insure a vigorous and
successful resistance.
That night, at ten o’clock, the fort was attacked and carried by five
hundred men of the third division, under Major-general Kempt. One
party was directed to attempt the gorge, another prevented the place
from being succoured from the city, and at the same time cut off the
garrison from retreat; and a third were to distract the attention of
the French, and assist their comrades by making a front attack.
The first detachment reached the gorge undiscovered, but failed in
forcing the palisades, from the heavy fire of musketry poured on them
by the garrison. Retiring from a place where success was hopeless, the
storming party moved round the left flank, and escaladed and won the
parapet; while another forced the salient angle simultaneously. The
French retreated to a guard-house, which they barricaded and defended
most obstinately. Alarmed by a false report that a large body of the
besieged had sallied from the town to relieve the fort, the troops were
about to abandon these advantages, and quit a place their bravery had
already won; but General Kempt dispelled the panic, led them forward,
and attacked the garrison again, who fought to the very last; and, with
the exception of some seventy, perished while desperately resisting.
The taking of Picarina was gallantly effected, but it cost the British
dear--the casualties, in killed and wounded, being nineteen officers
and upwards of three hundred men.
The capture of the fort enabled the second parallel to be pushed on,
and breaching batteries to be completed. The guns maintained a heavy
fire on the bastion of La Trinidad; and the sappers directed their
efforts against the lunette of San Rocque. The progress of the siege
was slow; and though two breaches were made, the certainty that both
were retrenched[168] and secured by interior defences, rendered an
assault too hazardous an experiment to be ventured. Lord Wellington
was critically circumstanced; Marmont had made some forward movements
in front of Beira--and Soult was advancing, determined to relieve
the place. His light troops were already at Larena; the covering army
under Hill had been obliged to retreat; and after blowing up two arches
of the bridge of Merida, had taken post in front of Talavera. In
consequence, the fifth division was ordered to advance, leaving the
observation of San Christoval to the Portuguese cavalry; the British
general having decided on leaving a corps of ten thousand men to
protect the trenches, and with the remainder of his force bring Soult
to action.
At noon, on the 5th, the breaches were reconnoitred and declared
practicable; but the assault was deferred for another day to allow the
artillery time to batter down the curtain, connecting the bastion with
an unfinished ravelin. The concentrated fire of the British batteries
fell upon the old wall with irresistible force; it was breached in
a single day, and thus three points for assault were thrown open.
The report of the engineers was encouraging; the main breach was
sufficiently wide, and the ascent to all three easy enough for troops
to mount.
Ten o’clock on the night of the 6th was appointed for the assault to be
attempted, and the necessary orders were issued accordingly. The castle
was to be attacked by the third division--the bastion of La Trinidad
by the fourth--that of Santa Maria by the light division--the lunette
of San Rocque by a party from the trenches; while the fifth should
distract the garrison by a false attack on the Pardelaras, and the
works contiguous to San Vicente.
Philippon, well aware that an assault might be expected, had employed
every resource that skill and ingenuity could devise to render the
attempt a failure. As Lord Wellington had neither time nor means to
destroy the counterscarps, the French were enabled to raise the most
formidable obstructions at their foot, and insulate the breaches
effectually. At night, the rubbish was removed, retrenchments formed,
and the battered parapets repaired by sand-bags, casks, and woolpacks.
Powder-barrels and grenades were laid along the trenches--and at
the foot of the breach sixty fourteen-inch shells, communicating
with hoses and bedded in earth, were placed ready for explosion. A
chevaux-de-frieze[169] was stretched across the rampart, and planks
studded with spikes covered the slopes of the breaches. Every species
of combustible was employed, and a cartridge specially prepared for
the musketry, formed of buck-shot and slugs; and when the distance was
so close, nothing would prove more mischievous.
The day was remarkably fine--and the troops, in high spirits, heard
the orders for the assault, and proceeded to clean their appointments,
as if a dress parade only was intended. Evening came,--darkness shut
distant objects out,--the regiments formed,--the roll was called in
an under-voice,--the forlorn hope stepped out,--the storming party
was told off,--all were in readiness, and “eager for the fray.”
Shortly before ten, a beautiful firework rose from the town, and shewed
the outline of Badajoz and every object that lay within several hundred
yards of the works. The flame of the carcase died gradually away--and
darkness, apparently more dense, succeeded this short and brilliant
illumination.
The word was given, the forlorn hope moved forward, the storming
parties succeeded, and the divisions, in columns, closed the whole. Of
these splendid troops, now all life and daring, how many were living in
an hour?
At that moment the deep bell of the cathedral of St. John struck ten;
the most perfect silence reigned around, and except the softened
footsteps of the storming parties, as they fell upon the turf with
military precision, not a movement was audible. A terrible suspense,--
a horrible stillness,--darkness,--a compression of the breathing,--
the dull and ill-defined outline of the town,--the knowledge that
similar and simultaneous movements were making on other points,--the
certainty that two or three minutes would probably involve the forlorn
hope in ruin, or make it the beacon-light to conquest,--all these made
the heart throb quicker, and long for the bursting of the storm, when
victory should crown daring with success, or hope and life should end
together.
On went the storming parties--one solitary musket was discharged
beside the breach--but none answered it. The light division moved
forward, rapidly closing up in columns at quarter distance. The ditch
was gained,--the ladders were lowered,--on rushed the forlorn hope,
with the storming party close behind them. The divisions were now on
the brink of the sheer descent, when a gun boomed from the parapet.
The earth trembled,--a mine was fired,--an explosion,--and an
infernal hissing from lighted fusees succeeded,--and, like the rising
of a curtain on the stage, in the hellish glare that suddenly burst out
around the breaches, the French lining the ramparts in crowds, and the
English descending the ditch, were placed as distinctly visible to each
other as if the hour were noontide!
A tremendous fire from the guns, a number of which had been laid
upon the approaches to the breach, followed the explosion; but, all
undaunted, the storming party cheered--and undauntedly the French
answered it. A murderous scene ensued, for the breach was utterly
impassable. Notwithstanding the withering fire of musketry from the
parapets, with light artillery directed immediately on the breach, and
grape from every gun upon the works that could play upon the assailants
and the supporting columns, the British mounted. Hundreds were thrown
back, and hundreds as promptly succeeded them. Almost unharmed
themselves, the French dealt death around; and secure within defences,
that even in daylight and to a force unopposed, proved afterwards
nearly insurmountable, they ridiculed the mad attempt; and while they
viewed from the parapets a thousand victims writhing in the ditch, they
called in derision to the broken columns, and invited them to come on.
While the assaults upon the breaches were thus fatally unsuccessful,
the third and fifth divisions had moved to their respective points of
attack. Picton’s, to whom the citadel was assigned, found difficulties
nearly equal to those encountered at the breaches. Thither Philippon
had determined to retire, if the assault upon the other defences should
succeed, and, in that event, hold the castle and San Christoval to the
last. To render the place more secure, he had caused the gates to be
built up, and the ramparts were lined with shells, cart-wheels, stones,
and every destructive missile. Fireballs betrayed the movements of the
assailants; and, for a time, every attempt at escalade failed with
prodigious loss. At last one ladder was planted,--a few daring spirits
gained the ramparts,--crowds followed them,--and in an incredibly
short time the castle was won. Philippon heard of the disaster too
late to redeem its loss. The troops despatched from the breaches and
elsewhere were unable to recover it,--a British jacket waved from the
flag-staff, and in the first dawn of morning announced the downfal of
Badajoz.
The fifth division were equally successful; though General Leith had to
delay his attack till eleven o’clock, from the party who had charge of
the ladders losing their way.
The attempt on San Vicente succeeded, notwithstanding every preparation
had been made for its defence; Major-general Walker overcame all
opposition, and established himself securely in the place.
“And yet it is astonishing, even in the spring-tide of success, how the
most trivial circumstances will damp the courage of the bravest, and
check the most desperate in their career. The storming party of the
fifth had escaladed a wall of thirty feet with wretched ladders, forced
an uninjured palisade, descended a deep counterscarp, crossed the
lunette behind it, and this was effected under a converging fire from
the bastions, and a well-sustained fusilade, while but a few of the
assailants could force their way together, and form on the rampart when
they got up. But the leading sections persevered until the brigade was
completely lodged within the parapet; and now united, and supported by
the division who followed fast, what could withstand their advance?
“They were sweeping forward with the bayonet,--the French were broken
and dispersed--when at this moment of brilliant success, a port-fire,
which a retreating gunner had flung upon the rampart, was casually
discovered. A vague alarm seized the leading files--they fancied
some mischief was intended,--and imagined the success, which their
own desperate gallantry had achieved, was but a _ruse_ of the enemy
to lure them to destruction. ‘It is a mine,--and they are springing
it!’ shouted a soldier. Instantly the leaders of the storming party
turned--and it was impossible for their officers to undeceive them.
The French perceived the panic,--rallied and pursued,--and friends
and foes came rushing back tumultuously upon a supporting regiment
(the 38th) that was fortunately formed in reserve upon the ramparts.
This momentary success of the besieged was dearly purchased; a volley
was thrown closely in, a bayonet rush succeeded, and the French were
scattered before the fresh assailants, never to form again. The fifth
division rushed on; every thing gave way that opposed it--the cheering
arose above the firing--the bugles sounded an advance,--the enemy
became distracted and disheartened--and again the light and fourth
divisions,--or, alas! their skeletons, assisted by Hay’s brigade,
advanced to the breaches. No opposition was made; they entered, and
Badajoz was their own! Philippon, finding that all was lost, retired
across the river to San Christoval; and early next day, surrendered
unconditionally.”
The loss sustained by the allies in the reduction of this well-defended
fortress was awful. In the assault alone, the British casualties were
fifty-nine officers and seven hundred and forty-four men killed. Two
hundred and fifty-eight officers, and two thousand six hundred men
wounded!
Lord Wellington had stationed himself on the high ground behind San
Christoval, to view the progress of the assault. During a contest so
doubtful and protracted, his anxiety was painfully acute. What a period
of dreadful suspense must have ensued, from the time the striking of
the town clock announced the marching of the divisions, until the
thunder of artillery told the British leader that the conflict had
begun! For a minute, the fireworks thrown from the place, showed the
columns at the breaches. Darkness followed--stillness more horrible
yet--and then the sudden burst of light, as shells and mines exploded.
The main breach was literally in a blaze--sheets of fire mounted to
the sky, accompanied by a continued roaring of hellish noises, as every
villanous combustible was ignited to discover or destroy the assailants.
The wounded came fast to the rear, but they could tell little how
matters were progressing. At last a mounted officer rode up. He was
the bearer of evil tidings--the attack upon the breaches had failed--
the majority of the officers had fallen--the men, left without
leaders to direct them, were straggling about the ditch, and unless
instant assistance was sent, the assault must fail entirely. Pale but
collected, the British general heard the disastrous communication, and
issued orders to send forward a fresh brigade (Hay’s) to the breaches.
Half an hour passed, and another officer appeared. He came from Picton
to say the castle had been escaladed, and that the third division was
actually in the town.
Instantly staff officers were despatched to the castle with orders that
it should be retained, and that the divisions, or rather their relics,
should be withdrawn from the breaches.
Though the regular assaults had been sanguinary failures, the detached
attacks upon the castle and San Vincente were brilliantly successful,
and either of them must have next day produced the fall of Badajoz. In
fact, the city was doubly won; and had Leith’s division obtained their
ladders in proper order, the place would have fallen in half the time,
and a frightful loss of life have been consequently avoided.
It may be readily imagined that such a fierce resistance as that made
by the French would provoke a desperate retaliation from the victors;
and as the city was given up to the excited soldiery, for a day and
two nights it presented a fearful scene of rapine and riot. The
streets were heaped with the drunken and the dead--and very many of
the conquerors, who had escaped uninjured in the storm, fell by the
bayonets of their comrades.
[Illustration:
_Sir W. Beechey_
_H. Cook._
Picton.]
No language can depict the horrors which succeed a storm; and the
following vivid but faithful picture of Badajoz, as it appeared on
the evening after it had been carried, will convey some idea of the
dreadful outrages that ensued.
“It was nearly dusk, and the few hours while I slept had made a
frightful change in the condition and temper of the soldiery. In
the morning they were obedient to their officers, and preserved the
semblance of subordination; now they were in a state of furious
intoxication--discipline was forgotten--and the splendid troops of
yesterday had become a fierce and sanguinary rabble, dead to every
touch of human feeling, and filled with every demoniac passion that can
brutalize the man. The town was in terrible confusion, and on every
side frightful tokens of military license met the eye.
“One street, as I approached the castle, was almost choked up with
broken furniture; for the houses had been gutted from the cellar to
the garret, the partitions torn down, and even the beds ripped and
scattered to the winds, in the hope that gold might be found concealed.
A convent[170] at the end of the strada of Saint John was in flames;
and I saw more than one wretched nun in the arms of a drunken soldier.
“Farther on, the confusion seemed greater. Brandy and wine casks were
rolled out before the stores; some were full, some half drunk, but
more staved in mere wantonness, and the liquors running through the
kennel. Many a harrowing scream saluted the ear of the passer-by; many
a female supplication was heard asking in vain for mercy. How could it
be otherwise, when it is remembered that twenty thousand furious and
licentious madmen were loosed upon an immense population, among which
many of the loveliest women upon earth might be found? All within that
devoted city was at the disposal of an infuriated army, over whom for
the time control was lost, aided by an infamous collection of camp
followers, who were, if possible, more sanguinary and pitiless even
than those who had survived the storm!
“It is useless to dwell upon a scene from which the heart revolts. Few
females in this beautiful town were saved that night from insult. The
noblest and the beggar--the nun, and the wife and daughter of the
artisan--youth and age, all were involved in general ruin. None were
respected, and few consequently escaped. The madness of those desperate
brigands was variously exhibited; some fired through doors and windows;
others at the church-bells; many at the wretched inhabitants as they
fled into the streets to escape the bayonets of the savages who were
demolishing their property within doors; while some wretches, as if
blood had not flowed in sufficient torrents already, shot from the
windows their own companions as they staggered on below. What chances
had the miserable inhabitants of escaping death when more than one
officer perished by the bullets and bayonets of the very men whom a few
hours before he had led to the assault?”[171]
Strict measures were taken on the second day by Lord Wellington to
repress these desperate excesses,[172] and save the infuriated
soldiery from the fatal consequences their own debauchery
produced;[173] a Portuguese brigade was brought from the rear, and sent
into the town, accompanied by the provost marshal and the gallows.
This demonstration had its due effect, and one rope carried terror to
rioters, whom the bayonets of a whole regiment could not appal.
RETREAT OF THE FRENCH.
Soult retreats.--Cavalry affair at Usagre.--Marmont invades
Portugal.--Affair with the militias.--Retires into Spain.--
Surprise and destruction of the works and bridge at Almarez.--
Failure of Ballasteros at Bornos.
Marshal Soult had come up within two marches of Badajoz before he was
apprised that the city had been carried by assault. Nothing could
exceed his astonishment,[174] for he had been perfectly assured that
the fortress was in no immediate danger; and he felt confident with
Marmont’s assistance, by attacking the covering army, to save Badajoz
from falling. On ascertaining the disastrous issue of the siege, the
French marshal instantly retreated, and the British cavalry actively
pursued him.
At Usagre, by a rapid night-march of Anson’s and Le Marchant’s
brigades, Sir Stapleton Cotton overtook Soult’s rear-guard, under
the command of Peyreymont. The French having only observed Ponsonby,
who led the advance, supposed that he was unsupported, and formed on
a rising ground behind the Benvenida road. For a time, the English
general delayed them by skirmishing, while Le Marchant, concealed by
the heights, was getting quickly in their rear. This effected, Ponsonby
charged boldly in front, while the fifth dragoon guards galloped round
the hill, and unexpectedly threw themselves upon their flank. The
French broke, and retired in great disorder, followed by the English
cavalry, who for several miles pursued the flying enemy, cutting down
numbers, and securing one hundred and thirty prisoners. The affair was
a very gallant one,--and the more creditable to the victor, as the
force on each side was nearly equal.[175]
Marmont, on his advance from Salamanca, after blockading Ciudad Rodrigo
and investing Almeida, had pushed forward into Portugal, driving the
militia back. Their leaders, Trant and Wilson, expecting assistance
from Silviera, took a position at Guarda, to protect the magazines
at Celerico; while the French marauding parties overran the lower
Beira, wasting and plundering the country, and treating the peasantry
with shameful cruelty. Unable from his weakness, to hold Castello
Branco longer, Le Cor, after removing the hospitals and destroying the
magazines, fell back to Sarnadas.
Trant had formed the bold design of surprising Marmont at Sabugal,
but was in turn surprised himself. His outposts were cut off, and the
French were almost entering the streets, when accident alarmed the
marshal, and prevented him from profiting by the earlier success of his
night-march over the mountain.
Trant fell back on the Mondego, and for a time the battalions retired
in good order; but the rear-guard, on being pressed by Marmont’s
cavalry, gave way and abandoning their arms and colours, endeavoured
to cross the river.[176] Some were cut down, but many more were drowned
in their ignominious attempt to escape; and to the humanity of the
French marshal the greater portion of the fugitives owed their safety--
as Marmont discontinued the pursuit and arrested the work of slaughter.
Wilson remained in charge of the magazines at Celerico, until the
French had advanced close to the place, and driven in his outposts.
The Portuguese general then issued orders to destroy the stores;
fortunately, they were but partially obeyed, for Marmont immediately
retired, left Guarda to the militia, and consequently a part of the
magazines was saved.
Finding that his indefatigable opponent was marching northwards,
Marmont fell farther back on Sabugal, and after raising the blockade of
Rodrigo, again retreated on Salamanca.
The allied army immediately took up cantonments on the Coa and Agueda;
and as an ample commissariat had been established behind the Douro, the
troops were abundantly supplied.
The head-quarters were removed to Fuente Guinaldo, and Lord
Wellington determined to re-establish his own communications across
the Tagus,[177] and destroy those of the enemy. Both designs were
accomplished with his usual success; and, as military operations, the
science displayed in the execution of the one, was only equalled by
the boldness that marked the daring manner with which the other was
effected.
To interrupt the communications of the French marshals, to whom he was
about to oppose himself, was an object of paramount importance, and it
was determined that an attempt should be made upon the pontoons and
works at Almarez, it being the only passage practicable to an army,
since the permanent bridges on the Tagus, from Arzobispo downwards,
had been blown up. The French, aware of the value of this important
passage, adopted every means within their power to protect it from
being surprised, or assaulted with success. Both banks of the river
were jealously fortified--the left of the Tagus being protected by a
_tête-du-pont_[178] regularly intrenched and flanked, and commanded
by Fort Napoleon--a strong redoubt placed on the high ground above
the bridge. The fort was secured by an interior intrenchment, with a
loopholed tower in the centre armed with nine pieces of cannon, and
a garrison of four hundred men. Fort Ragusa, similar in strength and
construction, commanded the right bank: it flanked the bridge with
which it was connected by a _flêche_. At a league’s distance, a pass
for carriages, called the Puerto de Miravete, winds through a steep
sierra, and opens on an expanse of barren country entirely overrun with
the gum-cistus.[179] There an old castle, standing on the crest of the
heights, was fortified and surrounded by an enciente twelve feet high.
The large venta on the road side was formed into a place of defence--
and with the two smaller works that connected it with the castle on
the brow of the hill, altogether formed a line of very considerable
strength.
To destroy the bridge and works was a task intrusted to Sir Rowland
Hill; and on the 12th of May, he moved from Almandralejo, with part of
the second division and six 24-pound howitzers. He reached Jaraicejo
early on the 16th, within eight miles of the summit of the pass--and
there dividing his force into three columns, to each a separate duty
was assigned. The left brigade under General Chowne, were directed to
escalade the castle of Miravete, and for this purpose were provided
with ropes and ladders. The centre, under General Long, with the
howitzers, marched by the great road to attack the Puerto; while by a
devious and rugged footway, Sir Rowland himself moved by Romangordo,
to carry the bridge-works upon the right. The columns moved the same
evening, but owing to the difficulties of the ground they could not
reach their intended points of attack before daybreak. Sir Rowland,
therefore, deferred the attempt until he should personally examine the
works, and the troops bivouacked on the sierra.
It proved that the castle, from its peculiar position, would require
time to secure its reduction--and the least delay must prove fatal to
success. General Chowne was therefore ordered to make a false attack
with the left brigade, while the right, under General Howard, should
steal down the broken side of the sierra, and attempt Fort Napoleon by
a _coup de main_.
The plan, notwithstanding that many unexpected obstacles delayed
the columns of attack, succeeded. The French, never supposing that
the bridge would be attempted until the pass was first carried, and
a passage opened for the guns, were astounded soon after daybreak,
on seeing the 50th and a wing of the 71st rush from the cover of
a hill, and commence an escalade in three different places. After
a sharp resistance, they abandoned the fort, and rushing through
the _tête-du-pont_, retreated over the bridge to find shelter, as
they hoped, in Fort Ragusa. But the coward who commanded there,
panic-struck, had already destroyed the communication; and in a vain
attempt to avoid the bayonets of their assailants who followed them
pell-mell, many perished in the Tagus, and the remainder, amounting to
two hundred and fifty, including the governor, were made prisoners.
Fort Ragusa was abandoned by the commandant, and the redoubt,
_tête-du-pont_, pontoons, and carriages, with an immense quantity of
stores, were destroyed, the victors in this brilliant affair having
sustained but a very inconsiderable loss. The commandant of Fort Ragusa
retreated to Navalmoral. There he was placed under arrest--tried by a
court-martial, and shot at Talavera, a fate the cowardly desertion of
his own comrades so richly merited.[180]
Sir Rowland retired without molestation by the Truxillo road, and took
up his former quarters at Merida. Too late, the intelligence of his
march had reached the French marshals--and though both took instant
measures to save the bridge and intercept the expedition, their efforts
were unavailing. Marmont reached the Tagus “too late to prevent the
evil, and without the means of repairing it;” and Soult, finding that
the British rear-guard had already passed Truxillo, gave up the hope of
overtaking it, and retired to Seville.
A less fortunate attempt by Ballasteros, was made on the French works
on the line of the Guadalete. A division of the army of Andalusia, of
four thousand five hundred men, under General Corvoux, having occupied
Bornos, the Spanish general assembled a force of six thousand at
Majada de Ruiz over night, and crossed the Guadalete unnoticed. But,
notwithstanding a surprise, the French easily repulsed the attack; and
Ballasteros was driven across the river in confusion, and with the loss
of a fourth of his entire force.
Nothing can prove the miserable inefficiency of the Spanish troops more
strongly, than the result of this wretched attempt on Bornos. Every
circumstance favoured it: in force they were stronger by a fourth; and
yet an enemy inferior in number, and taken by surprise, not only routed
their assailants, but would have literally destroyed them, had not the
friendly waters of the Guadalete covered their ignominious flight.
ADVANCE FROM THE AGUEDA, TO THE BATTLE OF SALAMANCA.
Lord Wellington crosses the frontier.--Advances on Salamanca.--The
convents besieged.--Marmont attempts their relief.--Operations of
the French army.--Assault on Cayetano fails.--San Vicente set on
fire.--Cayetano breached.--Both carried by the allies.--Marmont
retires.--Is reinforced and advances.--Wellington falls back.--
Operations on both sides.--A tempestuous night.--Observations.
Early in June, the British divisions began to concentrate; and on the
13th, the cantonments on the Agueda were broken up, and Lord Wellington
crossed the frontier.
The condition of the army was excellent, and the most exact discipline
was preserved, while all unnecessary parades were dispensed with. The
march ended, the soldier enjoyed all the comforts he could command--
if foot-sore, he had rest to recruit; if untired, he had permission to
amuse himself. His arms and appointments were rigidly inspected, his
supper cooked, his bivouac formed,[181] and at sunrise he rose at the
_reveille_, to resume, with light heart and “gallant hope,” the march
that was to lead to victory.
The weather was fine--and as the route lay principally through forest
lands, nothing could be more picturesque and beautiful than the country
which the line of march presented. The wooded landscape displayed its
verdure under the sunny influence of a cloudless sky, and singularly
contrasted its summer green with the snow-topped pinnacles of the
Sierra de Gata. No enemy appeared--for days the march was leisurely
continued--until, on clearing the forest at Valmasa, the German
Hussars in advance, had a slight skirmish with a French picket in front
of Salamanca.
This city, celebrated for its antiquity, and noted in the middle
ages as foremost among the most celebrated schools of learning, was
destined to witness a fresh triumph of British bravery. The situation
of Salamanca is bold and imposing, standing on high ground on the
right bank of the Tormes, and surrounded by a fine champaign country,
divested of wood, but interspersed with numerous clay-built villages.
A Roman road can still be traced without the town--while a portion of
the bridge across the Tormes, consisting of twenty-seven arches, is
supposed to have been constructed when the Eternal City was mistress of
the world.
The Duke of Ragusa, aware of the advance of the allies, collected all
his disposable force, and occupied the heights south of the river;
but during the night he evacuated the city--leaving the forts he
had constructed, amply stored with provisions and ammunition, and
garrisoned by eight hundred men.
Early next morning, the light brigade advanced, and cautiously felt its
way through the villages which were found to be unoccupied. The whole
army approached the city by brigades, and passing in open column of
companies, the divisions moved barely out of cannon-shot of the fort,
and directed their march on the fords of Santa Martha and El Campo,
while the French stood upon the ramparts of San Vicente, looking with
marked interest on the allied masses as they defiled across the plain.
The sixth division took possession of the city, while the others
bivouacked in its immediate vicinity--and nothing could surpass the
delight of the inhabitants, when they found themselves liberated from
a bondage which they had endured for three long years. The men shouted
their vivas,--the women caressed their deliverers,--while in the
evening, music and dancing marked the general joy; and the illuminated
streets might have been seen at the distance of many leagues.
But it was only for a brief time that the advance of the allies was
interrupted. The convent of San Vicente, placed on a perpendicular
cliff rising from the bed of the Tormes, had been fortified by Marmont
with admirable skill. It was connected at either side with the old
wall by a line of works, its windows built up and crenellated, and the
re-entering angle secured by a fascine battery, palisaded in front,
and defended by a loop-holed wall. A steep descent towards the bridge
was separated from the opposite high grounds by a small rivulet that
joined the Tormes--while the convents of La Merced and Cayetano, on
the farther bank of the stream, were converted into strong redoubts,
and ditched, escarped, and casemated. No pains had been spared by the
French engineers to render these works respectable. The inhabitants had
been obliged to lend their unwilling assistance; while, from the ruins
of thirteen convents, and two-and-twenty colleges, the best materials
for gates, palisades, and drawbridges, had been obtained. A place so
capable of defence, could not be left occupied by a hostile garrison in
the rear of an advancing army. It must of necessity be reduced--and
on the night of the 17th, the sixth division broke ground, and in full
moonlight commenced erecting a breaching battery.
Unforseen obstacles in warfare will frequently render the best-devised
plans abortive. The vigilance of a dog saved the counterscarp of San
Vicente from being blown up, and the miners failed, after suffering
a heavy loss from a plunging fire, from which they could not protect
themselves. Carcasses were tried without effect. The guns, four long
eighteens, and four 24-pound howitzers, breached slowly, and it was
the third morning before the lower wall of the convent was blown down.
Its sudden fall brought the roof along with it, and a number of the
defenders, then firing through the loop-holes, were buried in the ruins.
Marmont, who had retired from Salamanca with great reluctance, was
actively engaged, in the mean time, in collecting reinforcements to
enable him to recover the position he had abandoned. Breaking up from
Fuente Sabrico he advanced with sixty thousand men, determined to offer
battle. A sustained cannonade along his line of march apprized the
besieged garrisons that succour was approaching, and Lord Wellington
made the necessary dispositions for a battle. The allied army were
drawn up upon the heights; the left resting on a chapel and ravine,--
the centre occupying the village of San Christolat,[182]--and the
right formed on a high ground in front of Castellanos de los Moriscos.
The advanced posts retired, and a smart cannonade was maintained by the
batteries on both sides--and although both were ready for a battle,
neither would give a chance away. Several well-executed manœuvres in
front of the British position producing no important result, Marmont
fell back upon the flat grounds beside the village of Villares, his
right upon the road to Toro, and his left in Castellanos.
Morning broke, and found the allies under arms. That day some
reinforcements reached the French, but Marmont would not venture to
attack. Wellington remained on the defensive, and the rival armies
bivouacked quietly in each other’s presence. The weather was sultry;
the heights unsheltered by a single tree; and as both wood and
water were of necessity brought from Salamanca, the allies had but
an indifferent supply of either. The French were better off; their
bivouacs embraced several villages in the plain, the roofs and woodwork
of the houses yielding materials for their watchfires, while the wells
afforded a sufficiency of water,--an immense advantage indeed to an
army when operating beneath an ardent sun.
Another day passed; but during the night Marmont seized an eminence on
the right flank of the allied line, and occupied it in some strength,
and it was deemed necessary to dislodge him. The 58th and 61st were
ordered to attack the height: it was carried in fine style, and no
attempt was made by the French marshal to retake it.
On the following evening, Marmont changed his position, and endeavoured
to communicate with the garrisons of San Vicente and the redoubts. His
right now occupied the heights at Cabeza Vellosa, his left rested on
the Tormes at Huerta, and his centre in Aldea Rubia. A correspondent
movement was made by Lord Wellington. His right was extended to San
Martha, his advance to Aldea Lingua, and the heavy cavalry were
detached across the river to check any attempt upon the fords.
The weather continued warm and dry, and as the whole surface of the
position was covered with ripe corn, it supplied, in ample quantity
forage for the horses and beds to the soldiery. The country was
unwooded, and the only shelter from an ardent sun was obtained by
stretching blankets over sticks, and securing the edges to the ground.
For this simple luxury, Lord Wellington was indebted to a private of
the 43rd, as his own accommodation was on a par with the humblest
soldier. From break of day he occupied a height in the centre of the
position, watching the movements of the French; his staff, from time
to time, visiting him for orders. His meals were plainly served and
rapidly despatched--and when night came, wrapped in his cloak, “the
earth his bed, the sky his canopy,” he slept on the same sward upon
which his splendid divisions were reposing.
While the allied forces remained in position on the heights, the 6th
division pressed the siege of San Vicente and the dependent forts, as
vigorously as their very limited means of aggression would permit.
The breaching battery erected against Cayetano having destroyed the
palisades and injured the parapet, General Bowes, considering that
an assault might succeed, attempted to carry it by escalade. Under
a tremendous fire two ladders were reared against the wall; but the
foremost of the assailants were shot, and the storming party were
repulsed with the loss of their gallant leader, and one hundred and
twenty killed and wounded. As the attack was made at sunset, the
increased firing was distinctly heard by both armies. Gradually it
slackened,--at length nearly died away,--and three rockets, thrown up
from the fort, apprized Marmont that the assault had failed. The signal
was answered by several rounds of artillery from the French position on
the right. The musketry than ceased totally, and the remainder of the
night passed undisturbed.
The morning of the 24th was obscured by a dense fog;--a brisk firing
was heard beyond the river, but it was impossible to ascertain, from
the thickness of the atmosphere, in what numbers the French movement
was being made. At last the sun broke out, and Bock’s heavy dragoons
were seen retiring before a division which Marmont had thrown across
the Tormes before daylight. Directly, the 1st and 7th divisions
were sent to support the cavalry. The French hesitated to attack,--
manœuvred until evening,--then repassed the river, and bivouacked on
the ground they had quitted in the morning.
A quiet day succeeded. A supply of ammunition for the breaching
batteries had arrived from Almeida, a spirited cannonade ensued, the
British guns firing on San Vicente with hot shot. The inflammable
materials with which the fort was built could not endure this
destructive cannonade. The square tower was speedily in a blaze--and
in a brief space of time it was totally consumed, while during the
night the outworks were frequently on fire, and at ten o’clock next
morning the whole convent was in flames. A breach had been made in the
gorge of Cayetano, and the troops formed for the assault, when a white
flag from the forts and redoubt announced that the garrisons of both
would treat for a surrender. But delay appeared the chief object of the
French commandant. Three hours were required by him before he should
capitulate, and five minutes was the brief space that would be granted
by the besiegers, and when that time elapsed the storming parties
rushed forward,--the bastions were carried with feeble resistance,
and San Vicente with trifling loss. Thirty-six pieces of cannon, seven
hundred prisoners, and a quantity of stores and clothing, fell into
the hands of the victors, who had lost some valuable officers and four
hundred and fifty men before these well-defended works.
At midnight Marmont commenced retiring,--and when day broke, his
columns were in full march, and his rear-guard quitting its ground. The
French set fire to the villages they had occupied, leaving behind them
an exhausted country and an exasperated people. Nothing, indeed, could
exceed the deadly hatred that actuated the peasantry against their
oppressors, while the friendliest feelings were manifested towards the
British, who were by every class regarded as deliverers. In Salamanca
all was triumph and festivity. High mass was celebrated in the
cathedral,[183] a grand dinner given by the commander of the allies,
and a ball by the Junta in the evening was attended by the noblesse of
the city, and witnessed the beauty of Spain united to the chivalry of
Britain.
Marmont retired by Tora and Tordesillas on the Douro, and the allies,
following his line of march, bivouacked on the Guarena. The French
marshal frequently made demonstrations as if he intended to make a
stand; but aware that he should soon possess a numerical superiority
over his able opponent, he only manœuvred to gain time, while leisurely
falling back upon the line of the Douro, of which he possessed the
whole command. This gave the French marshal an immense advantage over
his antagonist. He held the bridges, and of course had the means of
crossing when he pleased--while on the whole river from the mouth of
the Pisuerga to Zamora, the ford of Castro Nuno, three leagues above
Toro, was the only point by which an army could be passed over in the
presence of an enemy.
If the French marshal had this admitted advantage on his side, in
the possession of the line of the Douro, he had certainly other
difficulties to embarrass him. The guerillas were in force on his
flanks and in his rear, intercepting his convoys, and giving full
occupation to a part of his corps that were required for a different
service. These irregular bands were incessantly on the alert, crippling
his resources, and cutting off stragglers and supplies. Sormel
and Bombon were on his right; Julian Sanchez on the left; Porlier
disturbed the country between him and the Asturias; and Mina and Duran
infested Navarre and Aragon. No wonder that Marmont awaited Bonnet’s
junction, with a portion of the army of the north, with great anxiety.
It was effected safely, and the Duke of Ragusa was now numerically
superior to his rival, the entire French _corps d’armée_, amounting to
forty-seven thousand men.
This increase of strength, when united to other considerations, induced
Wellington to decide on falling back towards the frontier of Portugal.
His military chest was nearly exhausted--supplies must be exacted,
after the iniquitous system of the French, or the army subjected to
privations; and the very difficulty he must have found in removing his
wounded to the frontier, in the event of a hostile collision, would
have been quite sufficient to deter a cautious general, and one so
particular in attention to his troops when disabled, from courting a
battle on the banks of the Douro.
Marmont lost no time in concentrating between Toro and San Roman. He
passed the river on the evening of the 16th, while Wellington moved
the allies to Canizal and Fuente le Pena. This was, however, a feint
on the French marshal’s part. At night he recrossed the Douro, made a
rapid movement on Tordesillas, passed the river there, and early on the
18th reached the Trebancos, after marching forty miles. This movement
was well designed and ably executed. By it Marmont had placed himself
in direct communication with the army of the Centre, then moving from
the capital to his support--while an advance to Castrejon, endangered
Anson’s brigade of cavalry, and the fourth and light divisions.
As morning broke, the outlying pickets in front of Castrejon were
alarmed by a distant firing, which momently became louder and more
sustained. Presently Bock’s brigade were observed retiring before
the enemy’s dragoons and light artillery. The British retreated by
scattered squadrons, and thus avoided the certain loss that a cannonade
would occasion cavalry retiring in dense masses. The infantry fell back
in perfect order--and though severely pressed by the French divisions,
threatened by the dragoons, and occasionally under a fire of forty
guns, reached the Guarena with trifling loss.[184]
The bed of the river was nearly dry, but the troops found its scanty
waters a luxury above price, after a ten miles’ march at times over
vast corn-fields reaching above the knee, and under a vertical sun,
whose heat was most oppressive. The retreat was resumed again, when
the French cavalry galloped up a hill commanding the line of march,
with the intention of holding the division in check, until the infantry
could overtake and bring it to action. But the British had neared their
reserves, and, tired of retreating, halted and shewed front. A French
brigade accepted the challenge, and advanced instantly to the attack.
The 27th and 40th regiments, led on by General Cole, threw in a close
volley, cheered, and crossed bayonets; the enemy broke, the English
cavalry galloped in--and a general (Carrier), one gun, and three
hundred prisoners, were captured in the charge. The allied loss in the
different affairs of the 18th amounted to five hundred _hors de combat_.
That night, the allied troops halted on the Guarena, their right
extending beyond Canizal, and the left resting on Castrillo, while the
French bivouacked on the opposite side of the valley. Fires blazed
along the lines of either army, and the outposts lay so near each other
“_that the fixed sentinels almost received the secret whispers of each
other’s watch_.”
The night passed without alarm--all remained quiet until the following
day--when, at two o’clock, Marmont again marched by his left on
Tanazora, endeavouring to turn the right of the allies. A counter
movement was made by Lord Wellington, both armies marching in nearly
parallel lines,--while an occasional cannonade, and an extensive
conflagration of corn ready for the sickle, told, at an immense
distance, that the game of war was going on.
It was generally believed that a battle on the plains of Valesa was
inevitable; and the troops bivouacked in two lines, and before daybreak
were under arms. But with the first light, Marmont was seen again
extending by his left, and the allies moved consequently in a parallel
direction. Either commander might provoke an action, but neither seemed
inclined to risk one. The French marshal’s design was very apparent. He
kept the high ground, manœuvred to out-flank his opponent, and, should
opportunity permit, attack him at advantage. His able antagonist,
however, never gave the chance. The day passed in manœuvring, and that
night the French held Babila, Fuente, and Villamesa; the allies,
Cabesa and Aldea Lingua.
The 21st was also spent in flank marching, during which both commanders
crossed the Tormes; the French by the fords of Alba and Huerta, and the
allies by Santa Martha and the bridge of Salamanca. The hostile armies
bivouacked again that night, and such a night can scarcely be imagined.
The evening was calm and sultry--but the extreme verge of the horizon
became heavily overcast, and persons conversant with “skyey influences”
might have easily foretold a coming storm. It was now dusk--big
drops began to fall, some of the brigades had already reached the
ground marked out for their night positions, the guns were parked,
and the horses of the cavalry picketed. Others were, however, only
moving to their bivouacs; and Pakenham’s, the third division, being
separated from the remainder of the army by the Tormes, had guarded
against sudden attack by intrenching the commanding height it rested
on. Suddenly a torrent fell--the wind rose and swept across the open
hills with amazing violence--the thunder-clouds burst--and, by the
glare of lightning, the sparkling arms of infantry masses were visible
over the whole extent of the position, as the last brigades pressed
through the tempest to occupy their ground. No shelter the allied army
could obtain could have averted a summer shower--and all in a few
minutes were drenched to the skin; while the cavalry horses, scared by
the lightning, broke from their picketings, and trampling upon their
riders rushed madly to and fro, occasioning indescribable confusion.
Many of the animals were recovered by the exertions of the dragoons,
but numbers of the men were injured in the attempt, and thirty horses,
having got within Marmont’s lines, were secured by the French. The
allied position had its right upon one of two hills called the
Arapiles; its left below the ford of Santa Martha; while its cavalry
held Calvarasa de Abaxo. Marmont occupied Calvarasa de Arriba and a
contiguous hill, called Neustra Senora de la Pena.
Nothing could be more imposing than the parallel movements of the
rival armies during the last three days. Far as the eye could range,
masses, apparently interminable, pursued their march with beautiful
regularity--now displayed in brilliant sunshine as they swept over a
contiguous height--now lost where an accidental dipping of the ground
for a time concealed the column. Generally both armies abstained from
hostile collision, by a sort of mutual consent; and excepting where
the line of march brought the light troops into immediate proximity,
or the occupation of a village produced a trifling fusilade, the grand
movements of the rival hosts exhibited a “ceaseless march,” the leading
columns pressing forward toward the Tormes, and the rear hidden from
view “by dust and distance.”
The whole system of manœuvres, which marked the operations of the
French marshal since Bonnet’s division had joined him on the Douro,
shewed clearly that he only waited for a fitting moment to attack.
The French army were in high spirits; while in numerical force they
were formidable indeed, numbering forty-five thousand men, of whom
four thousand were cavalry. Other circumstances were favourable to the
commencement of active aggression by the French. The communications
with the capital were open--reinforcements constantly arriving--
while a powerful accession of strength had approached the immediate
neighbourhood of the scene of operations from the army of the North; a
part of its cavalry and horse-artillery having already reached Pollos.
If Marmont was anxious to offer battle, the British general, for
obvious reasons, was as willing to accept it. Aware of his opponent’s
abilities in tactics, and apprised of the fine _matériel_ of the army
he commanded, Lord Wellington was as confident in his own resources as
in the indomitable courage of that soldiery which, under his leading,
had been frequently assailed and never beaten. His own position was
daily becoming more unsafe. For security, the stores deposited at
Salamanca had been removed to the rear, consequently the maintenance
of his army was endangered, as supplies from the depôts were tardily
obtained. No difficulty, however, was experienced by the French in
provisioning their army--every procurable necessary was exacted
from the wretched inhabitants, who might curse, while they durst not
oppose those who despoiled them of their property. Both commanders
were anxious to try the issue of a contest. Vanity, in the one, urged
Marmont to offer battle upon ground favourable for the movements of a
force superior in number and perfect in every arm. Prudence, in Lord
Wellington, aimed at results only to be effected by a victory. No
wonder, then, that with such dispositions a conflict was inevitable.
The decree had gone forth--a fiery trial of skill and valour must
ensue--and well did a fearful night harbinger “a bloody morrow.”
BATTLE OF SALAMANCA.
Preliminary dispositions.--Marmont manœuvres to turn the right of
the Allies.--A false movement is seized on by Wellington, who
instantly attacks.--Opening, progress, and close of the battle of
Salamanca.
The morning was cloudy and threatening, and the dawn was ushered in
by a sharp fusilade, in the direction of Calvarasa de Arriba. The
enemy’s tirailleurs had occupied the heights of Senora de la Pena in
considerable force,--and part of the seventh division, with the light
cavalry of Victor Alten, were opposing their farther advance.
The British right was appuied upon the nearest of the Arapiles, and
united itself with the extremity of a ridge, on which the divisions had
taken their position on the preceding evening. Another hill, similarly
named, rose from the plain at a distance of five hundred yards,--and
as it commanded the right of the alignement, it was deemed advisable to
possess it.
The French marshal, however, had entertained a similar design; and a
wood favouring the unobserved advance of part of Bonnet’s division,
the summit was occupied by the French with their 122nd regiment, and a
brigade of guns.
Meanwhile the enemy commenced extending to the left, in the rear of
the Arapiles, and formed on the skirts of a wood. As the movement of
the columns brought them within cannon range, General Leith advanced
a battery to a height in front of his position, and it opened with
considerable effect. The French, obliged to retire, brought up a
brigade of artillery to check the British guns. Their diagonal fire
silenced the British battery,--and it was necessary, without delay,
to retire the guns, and withdraw a troop of the 16th light dragoons,
which, for their protection, had been drawn up under shelter of the
hill. This perilous evolution was executed with complete success,--the
ravine was passed at speed,--and with little loss, the artillery and
light cavalry regained the position.
The day wore on,--the late tempest apparently had cleared the
atmosphere,--all was bright and unclouded sunshine,--and over a wide
expanse of undulating landscape, nothing obscured the range of sight
but dust from the arid roads, or wreathing smoke occasioned by the
spattering fire of the light troops. Marmont was busily manœuvring--
and Lord Wellington coolly noticing from a height the dispositions of
his opponent, which as he correctly calculated would lead to a general
engagement.
At noon, a combination of at least eight thousand men, moved from the
rear of the Arapiles, and formed in front of the fifth division. Lord
Wellington rode to the ground, and there found the division in perfect
readiness for the anticipated attack. Perceiving at once that this
movement was only a demonstration of the French marshal to mask his
real designs, his lordship returned to the right, which was now the
interesting point of the position.
Finding his feint upon the fifth division unsuccessful, Marmont put
his columns into motion, and marching rapidly by his left, endeavoured
to turn the right of the allies, and thus interpose between them and
Ciudad Rodrigo. Under a heavy cannonade, his front and flank, covered
by a cloud of skirmishers, and supported by a cavalry force that drove
in the British dragoons and light troops, pressed forward to gain the
Rodrigo road. But that hurried movement was badly executed by Marmont’s
generals of division. Their extension was made with careless haste,--
the line consequently weakened--and this false manœuvre brought on the
crisis of the day. The moment for action had come; and Lord Wellington
seized the opportunity and struck the blow.
At two o’clock, when the French commenced extending by their left,
the allied army was thus disposed. On the right, the fifth division
(Leith’s) had moved behind the village of Arapiles, and had taken
ground on the right of the fourth (Cole’s); the sixth and seventh,
under Generals Clinton and Hope, formed a reserve; the third division
(Pakenham’s), D’Urban’s cavalry, two squadrons of the 14th light
dragoons, and a corps of Spanish infantry, were in position near
Aldea Tejada. Bradford’s brigade, with Le Marchant’s heavy cavalry,
were formed on the right, and in the rear of the fifth. The light
division (Barnard’s) and the first (the Guards and Germans) were drawn
up between the Arapiles and the Tormes in reserve. Cotton’s cavalry
were formed in the rear of the third and fifth divisions; an artillery
reserve, posted behind the dragoons, and in the rear of all the
Spaniards, under Don Carlos D’Espana, appeared in the extreme distance,
but entirely out of fire.
Marmont had remarked, and rode forward to correct the irregularity
of his flank movement, and personally direct the débouchement of his
third and fourth divisions from the wood that had partially concealed
them. At that moment, Lord Wellington was seated on the hill-side,
eating his hurried meal, while an aide-de-camp in attendance watched
the enemy’s movements with a glass. The bustle then perceptible in the
French line attracted his lordship’s notice, and he quickly inquired
the cause. “They are evidently in motion,” was the reply.--“Indeed!
what are they doing?”--“Extending rapidly to the left,” was answered.
Lord Wellington sprang upon his feet, and seized the telescope; then
muttering that Marmont’s good genius had deserted him, he mounted his
horse, and issued the orders to attack.[185]
All was instantly on the alert. The staff went off at speed to bring
up the fifth and sixth divisions. The infantry stood to arms, primed
and loaded, fixed bayonets, uncased the colours, and abandoning the
defensive system, hitherto so admirably employed, prepared for an
immediate attack.
Pakenham[186] commenced the action by advancing in four columns along
the valley, assailing the left flank of the enemy, and driving it
before him in great confusion. D’Urban’s Portuguese dragoons, and
Harvey’s light cavalry (the 14th), protected the flank during the
movement, and, when the French became disordered, charged boldly in
and sabred the broken infantry. Nothing could be more brilliant than
Pakenham’s advance. A level plateau of nearly eight hundred yards was
to be crossed before the assailants could reach the heights, whither
Foy’s division were marching hastily to occupy the ground. A heavy
fire from the French guns was showered on the advancing columns, while
the British batteries, under Captain Douglass, replied by a furious
cannonade. Wallace’s brigade--the 45th, 74th, and 88th--formed the
first line, and moved forward in open column. The face of the height
was covered with tirailleurs,[187] who kept up an incessant fusilade--
while grape and canister ploughed the ground, occasioning a heavy
loss, and more particularly to the centre. They suffered, but they
could not be checked;--not waiting to deploy, the companies brought
forward their right shoulders in a run, forming line from open column
without halting; while the wings of the brigade, having moved up the
hill with less impediments than the centre, were more advanced, and
the line thus assumed rather the figure of a crescent. All the mounted
officers, regardless of a withering fusilade, were riding in front of
the battalions, and the men following with their muskets at the rest.
At last they reached the brow. Foy’s division, beating the _pas de
charge_, advanced, and threw in a murderous volley. Half the British
front rank went down. Staggered by that deadly fire, the brigade
recoiled a step or two, but, instantly recovering, the rear rank
filled the places of the fallen. On it went with imposing steadiness,
regardless of the irregular fusilade, for the French continued to pour
in their fire with more rapidity than effect.
Foy’s division, alarmed by this movement, became unsteady. The daring
advance of an enemy, whom the concentrated fire of five thousand
muskets could not arrest, was indeed astounding. All that brave men
could do was done by the French officers. They strove to confirm the
courage of their troops, and persuade them to withstand an assault that
threatened their wavering ranks. The colonel of the 22nd _légère_,
seizing a musket from a grenadier, rushed forward, and mortally wounded
Major Murphy of the 88th. Speedily his death was avenged--a Ranger
shot the Frenchman through the head, who tossing his arms wildly up,
fell forward and expired. The brigade betrayed impatience; the 88th,
excited to madness by the fall of a favourite officer, who passed dead
along their front, as his charger galloped off with his rider’s foot
sticking in the stirrup, could scarcely be kept back. Pakenham marked
the feeling, and ordered Wallace “to let them loose.” The word was
given--down came the bayonets to the charge--the pace quickened--
a wild cheer, mingled with the Irish _slogan_, rent the skies--and
unable to stand the shock, the French gave ground. The Rangers, and the
supporting regiments, broke the dense mass of infantry, bayoneting all
whom they could overtake--until, run to a regular stand-still, they
halted to recover breath and stayed the slaughter.
Nor were the operations of the fifth division less marked and
brilliant. For an hour they had been exposed to a heavy cannonade,
sheltering occasionally on the ground from the shot and shells, which
fell in showers upon the height they occupied, and ricochetted through
their ranks. At last the order to advance was given. They moved in
two lines, the first entirely British, the second composed of the
Portuguese infantry of General Spry. Bradford’s brigade, having united
itself for the attack, formed on the right of the fifth.
In mounting the height where the French division was posted, the
assailing columns were annoyed by a sharp discharge of artillery, and
the fire of a swarm of sharpshooters, who in extended order occupied
the face of the hill. The British light infantry pushed on to clear
the line of march, and, if practicable, make a dash at the enemy’s
artillery. The tirailleurs were speedily driven back, the cannon
removed from the crest of the height to the rear, and unimpeded, the
division moved up the hill with a perfect regularity in its formation,
and the imposing steadiness of men who marched to victory. “In the
front of the centre of that beautiful line rode General Leith,
directing its movements, and regulating its advance.”
The enemy were preparing for the struggle. He retired his columns from
the ridge, and formed continuous squares, fifty paces from the crest
of the heights, which the assailants must crown previous to attacking.
The artillery from the French rear cannonaded the advancing columns,
but nothing could check the progressive movement of the British. “The
men marched with the same orderly steadiness as at first; no advance
in line at a review was ever more correctly executed; the dressing
was admirable; and spaces were no sooner formed by casualties, than
closed up with the most perfect regularity, and without the slightest
deviation from the order of march.”[188]
When General Leith reached the summit of the hill, the enemy were
observed formed in supporting squares, with their front rank kneeling.
Their formation was complete--their fire reserved--and till the
drum rolled, not a musket was discharged. Nearly at the same moment,
the French squares and the British line delivered their volleys. A
dense smoke hid all for a time from view. A loud and sustained cheer
pealed from the English ranks: no shout of defiance answered it; while
rushing forward, the British broke the squares, and pressing on with
dauntless impetuosity, every attempt at opposition ceased, and what
just now appeared a disciplined body, almost too formidable to be
assailed, became a disorganized mass, flying at headlong speed from the
fury of its conquerors. To increase the confusion, a portion of Foy’s
division crossed the _déroute_, and mingled with it--while the rush
of advancing cavalry was heard, and that sound, so ominous to broken
infantry, confirmed the panic.
Presently the heavy brigade--the 3rd and 4th dragoons, and 5th dragoon
guards--galloped across the interval of ground, between the heights
where the third division had made its flank attack, and the fifth
its more direct one. Sweeping through a mob of half-armed fugitives,
the brigade rode boldly at the three battalions of the French 66th,
which had formed in six supporting lines to check the advance of the
conquerors, and afford time for the broken divisions to have their
organization restored. Heedless of its searching fire, the British
dragoons penetrated and broke the columns; numbers of the French were
sabred; while the remainder were driven back upon the third division
and made prisoners. Still pressing on, another regiment, in close
order, presented itself; this, too, was charged, broken, and cut down.
Nothing arrested Le Marchant’s victorious career until the ground
became gradually obstructed with trees, embarrassing the movements of
his cavalry, while it afforded a broken infantry ample time to rally,
and engage horsemen at evident advantage.
Although the regiments of the heavy brigade in the course of these
brilliant charges had of necessity become intermixed, and their line
crowded, without intervals between the squadrons, they still pushed
forward without confusion to charge a brigade that had formed under
cover of the trees. The French steadily awaited the attack--within
twenty yards their reserved fire was thrown in, and on a concentrated
body of horse and at this short distance, its effect was fatal. General
Le Marchant was killed--Colonel Elley badly wounded--while one-third
of the brigade were brought to the ground by that close and murderous
volley. Still, those of the heavy dragoons who could keep their
saddles, sustained nobly the reputation they had earned that day, and
charging the French column home, penetrated and dispersed it. A furious
_mêlée_ succeeded--the scattered infantry fighting desperately to the
last--while the long straight sword of the trooper proved in English
hands irresistible.[189]
While the remnant of the cavalry brigade continued their pursuit, a
small battery of five guns was seen upon the left. Lord Edward Somerset
instantly galloped down, charged, and brought them off. The brigade was
then retired, after a continued succession of brilliant charges that
had lasted nearly an hour.
Of course the loss sustained was great. From three splendid regiments
that had ridden into action, at least one thousand strong, with
difficulty three squadrons were formed in the evening--such being the
number of men and horses rendered _hors de combat_, during its late
scene of brilliant but dear-bought success.
With such decided advantages, the battle might have been considered
gained, and the French defeat inevitable. But the splendid successes
attendant on the third and fifth divisions, with Bradford’s Portuguese
brigade, and the light and heavy cavalry, were nearly counterbalanced
by the total failure of Pack’s attack on the Arapiles, and the repulse
of Cole’s division by that of Bonnet.
The 1st and 16th Portuguese advanced to carry the height; it was
occupied by a French battalion, and protected by a battery of guns.
A force of nearly two thousand men, led on in person by a “fighting
general,” should have wrested the hill from such inferior force,
no matter how strong the ground might naturally have been. On this
occasion, however, the attack proved totally unsuccessful--the
Portuguese regiments recoiled from the fire--and their officers
endeavoured to rally them in vain. The attack on the Arapiles was
consequently abandoned, the French left in undisturbed possession,
and, unassailed themselves, they turned their musketry and cannon upon
the flank and rear of Cole’s division, who, under the impression that
Pack’s assault must have succeeded, had fearlessly advanced across
the plain, driving Bonnet’s corps before it, with the promise of as
glorious results as had attended the gallant operations of the third
and fifth.
At that moment, even when the fourth division believed itself
victorious, its position was most dangerous--its very existence more
than doubtful. Bonnet perceiving Pack’s failure, reformed his division,
still numerically superior to his opponent’s, advanced boldly against
the fourth, and furiously attacked it--while from the crest of the
Arapiles, the French troops poured upon the now retreating columns a
withering fire of grape and musketry. General Cole was carried off the
field; Beresford, who had come to his relief, with a Portuguese brigade
of the fifth, was also badly wounded. The British were falling fast;
while the French heavy cavalry, under Boyer, moved rapidly to support
Bonnet, who was momentarily gathering strength from the junction of
the scattered soldiers who had escaped the slaughter of the fourth and
seventh French divisions, already _dérouted_ on the left.
Wellington marked the emergency, and ordered Clinton’s division to
advance. This fine and unbroken corps, numbering six thousand bayonets,
pushed rapidly forward, confronted the victorious enemy, who, with loud
cheers, were gaining ground on every point, as the hard-pressed fourth
division was driven back by overwhelming numbers. Bonnet, determined
to follow up his temporary success, met Clinton’s division manfully,
and for a time neither would give ground, and a close and furious
conflict resulted. The ceaseless roll of musketry, and the thunder of
fifty guns, told how furiously the battle-ground was disputed. Both
fought desperately,--and though night was closing, the withered grass,
blazing on the surface of the hill, threw an unearthly glare upon the
combatants, and displayed the alternations that attended the “heady
fight.” But the British bayonet, at last, opened the path to victory.
Such a desperate encounter could not endure--the French began to
waver,--the sixth division cheered, pushed forward, gained ground,--
while, no longer able to withstand an enemy who seemed determined to
sweep every thing before it, the French retired in confusion, leaving
the hard-contested field in undisputed possession of the island
conquerors.
Darkness fell. The remains of Bonnet’s division found shelter in
the woods, or crossed the Tormes at the ford of Alba, which, from
its natural strength, the Spaniards could have easily defended. The
conflict, at different points, had raged six hours with unabated fury;
and those of the divisions which had been engaged, exhausted with
fatigue and suffering dreadfully from heat and thirst, rested on the
battle-ground.
The guards, Germans, and light brigade, who had been in reserve during
the day, however, pushed forward in pursuit. Distant musketry was heard
occasionally--gradually this spattering fire ceased--and the groans
of dying men and wounded horses succeeded the headlong rush of cavalry,
the thunder of a hundred guns, the shout of proud defiance, and, wilder
still, the maddening cry of victory!
SALAMANCA.
Results of the battle.--Operations.--Surprise at Majalahonda.--
Capture of the Retiro.--Occupation of Madrid.
Salamanca, whether considered with regard to its merits as a battle, or
its results as a victory, probably stands foremost among the Peninsular
contests--and many and peculiar traits distinguish it from every
previous encounter. It was coolly and advisedly fought, by commanders
confident in themselves, satisfied with the strength and _matériel_ of
their armies, jealous of each other’s reputation, and stimulated, by
every longing after military glory, to exhaust the resources of their
genius and experience to secure a successful issue. Nothing could
surpass Marmont’s beautiful manœuvring for consecutive days while
moving round the British flank, except the countervailing rapidity with
which his talented opponent defeated every effort to outflank him, and
held the marshal constantly in check. At two on the 22nd, the French
marshal threatened an attack; at four, he was himself the assailed--
and the same mistake that lost Marengo, involved ruin and defeat at
Salamanca. One false movement, that might have been easily corrected
before a slower leader could see and seize the momentary advantage,
brought on a crisis that clouded the French destinies in Spain, by
removing the delusory belief that their arms should eventually prove
invincible.
A conflict, close and desperate like that of Salamanca, conferred
a sanguinary victory, while it involved a still bloodier defeat.
The allied loss, in killed and wounded, exceeded five thousand men,
and this, of course, fell chiefly on the British. The Portuguese,
comparatively, suffered little--and the Spaniards, being entirely
non-combatant, had very few casualties to record.[190] The only post
intrusted--and that most unhappily--to their charge, was the castle
of Alba; and this was abandoned without a shot, leaving Clausel a safe
retreat, while its vigorous occupation must have involved his total
ruin.
The French loss was never correctly ascertained. Two eagles, eleven
pieces of cannon, seven thousand prisoners, and as many dead soldiers
left upon the field, were the admitted trophies of British victory.
Among the commanding officers of both armies, the casualties were
immense: of the British, Le Marchant was killed; Beresford, Cole,
Leith, Cotton, and Alten wounded. The French were equally unfortunate--
the generals of brigade, Thomières, Ferrey, and Desgraviers were
killed; Marmont, early in the day, mutilated by a howitzer shell;[191]
Bonnet severely, and Clausel slightly wounded.
The light division, when morning dawned, continued its advance,
crossing the Tormes at Huerta; while the heavy Germans, under Bock,
overtook the French rear-guard in position on the heights of La Serna,
protected by some squadrons of hussars. These were dispersed by a
charge of the 11th and 16th--while the heavy brigade rode directly at
the squares, and broke them by a furious onset. Numbers were cut down--
others saved themselves by throwing away their arms, hiding in the
woods, and afterwards joining the retreating columns. In this spirited
affair nearly one thousand prisoners fell into the hands of the victors.
As a cavalry exploit, that of La Serna has rarely been equalled, and
never, in its brilliant results, surpassed. Bock’s casualties were
comparatively trifling, amounting in killed and wounded only to some
seventy or eighty men.
Clausel, who commanded _en chef_ after Marmont was disabled, retreated
with great rapidity. Viewed from the summit of La Serna, the French
exhibited a countless mass of all arms, confusedly intermingled.
While the range permitted it, the horse-artillery annoyed them with
round-shot--but, by rapid marching, they gradually disappeared--
while, opportunely, a strong corps of cavalry and a brigade of guns
joined from the army of the North, and covered the retreat until they
fell back upon their reserves.
Although Salamanca was in every respect a decisive battle, how
much more fatal must it not have proved, had darkness not shut in,
and robbed the conquerors of half the fruits of victory? The total
demolition of the French left was effected by six o’clock, and why
should the right attack have not been equally successful? Had such
been the case, in what a hopeless situation the broken army must have
found itself! The Tormes behind, a reserve of three entire divisions,
who during the contest had scarcely drawn a trigger, ready to assail
in front--nothing could have averted total ruin; and to the French,
Salamanca would have proved the bloodiest field on record. One great
error stripped victory of its results. Either the small force by which
the Arapiles was defended had been undervalued, or incompetent means
employed by Lord Wellington to carry it. Unfortunately a Portuguese
brigade had been intrusted with that service. They were admirably led
on--conquest was on the wing around them--everywhere the advance
of the British was triumphant--their numerical force was five times
greater than that of the defenders of the height--but the attack was
feebly made, and, on the show of a determined resistance, as quickly
abandoned. This unexpected reverse induced Bonnet’s corps to rally--
and by it, the fourth division was suddenly and unexpectedly assailed.
A plunging fire from the Arapiles fell upon their flank and rear--the
tide of battle turned--the fourth gave ground--and, as yet untamed
by British steel, the enemy cheered loudly and rushed on--and had
not Clinton’s division been promptly carried into action, it is hard
to conjecture what serious results might not have arisen from this
singular repulse. Finally, the battle was restored and won--but an
immense waste of blood and time supervened--and while the protracted
struggle entailed on the victors a desperate loss, it secured the
vanquished from total ruin. Favoured by the darkness, Marmont’s routed
columns removed themselves from the field, while guns and trophies[192]
were secured by the retiring army, that, with one hour’s light, must
have fallen into the hands of the conquerors.[193]
Still, and with all these mischances, Salamanca was a great and
influential victory. Accidental circumstances permitted Clausel to
withdraw a beaten army from the field, and a fortunate junction of
those arms, which alone could cover his retreat, enabled him, with
little loss, to outmarch his pursuers, preserve his communications,
and fall back upon his reserves. But at Salamanca the delusory notion
of French superiority was destroyed. The enemy discovered that they
must measure strength with opponents in every point their equals. The
confidence of wavering allies was confirmed; while the evacuation
of Madrid, the abandonment of the siege of Cadiz, the deliverance of
Andalusia and Castile from military occupation, and the impossibility
of reinforcing Napoleon during his northern campaign, by sparing any
troops from the corps in the Peninsula[194]--all these great results
were among the important consequences that arose from Marmont’s defeat
upon the Tormes.
The joy evinced by the inhabitants of Salamanca at the total
discomfiture of their French oppressors, was only equalled by the
despair with which the regressive movement of Lord Wellington from the
line of the Agueda had previously been witnessed. From all the high
grounds about the city, the changes of the fight had been watched with
painful anxiety; and when the struggle ended and the day was won, mules
and cars loaded with refreshments were despatched from Salamanca to the
field of battle, where they arrived before break of day. Hospitals were
prepared for the reception of the wounded, and every exertion employed
to assuage the sufferings of their gallant allies. High mass was
celebrated in the cathedral, and a wild display of popular exultation
was everywhere visible in the streets. All had assumed the appearance
of a carnival; and the guitar and castanet were heard at midnight in
the same square that, a short period before, had started at “the beat
to arms.”
Lord Wellington, who had been present while mass was celebrated for his
victory,[195] without delay commenced his march southward, and moved
as rapidly as he could, in the vain hope of overtaking the enemy’s
rear-guard. Clausel, intending to join the army of the North, fell back
on Arivalo; but Joseph Buonaparte, on learning Marmont’s defeat, had
retreated himself--and thus Clausel was obliged to change his line for
that of the Camino Real, in order to cross the Duero at Tudela. There,
too, he failed in effecting his expected junction with the troops that
had garrisoned Madrid; and, abandoning his hospitals at Valladolid, he
fell back at once on Burgos.
The British advance was unopposed. Everywhere the conquerors were
received with _vivas_; while fruit, wine, and all the refreshments they
could command, were liberally supplied them by the Spanish peasantry.
At Valladolid, all hope of coming up with Clausel ended; and Lord
Wellington halted on the 30th of July, to enable the rear to close up.
Then turning at once, he quitted his previous route, and took the road
to the capital.
Nothing impeded the victor’s march as he moved direct on Madrid. On the
6th of August, Wellington halted at Cuellar, leaving Clinton’s division
there, with the regiments that had suffered on the 21st most severely,
to observe any movement that Marmont’s corps might make. Next morning
he moved upon the capital, while Hill’s division marched on Zafra.
Nothing checked Lord Wellington’s movement on Madrid. On the 7th
of August, he reached Segovia; and on the 9th, San Ildefonso,[196]
the magnificent summer residence of the Spanish monarchs. There he
halted to allow his right to come up; and among the exquisite groves
and gardens that had formed a favourite retreat to a kingly race for
centuries, the conquerors of Salamanca rested. On the 11th the march
was resumed; and as the passes of the Guadarama were undefended, the
allies entered New Castile without any opposition, and halted within a
march of Madrid.
After a careful _reconnaissance_ in company with his lieutenant,
Marshal Jourdan, Joseph Buonaparte declared that the capital was
untenable, and retreated on Aranguez, after leaving a garrison in the
Retiro.[197]
On the evening of the 11th, the army of Lord Wellington was comfortably
bivouacked three miles in the rear of Majalahonda. The Portuguese
cavalry, under D’Urban, forming the advanced guard, were pushed
forward a mile beyond the village, in which two regiments of German
dragoons, and Macdonald’s brigade of horse artillery, were posted to
support them. Some trifling skirmishing had taken place during the day,
between the Portuguese cavalry and the French lancers, who formed
part of Joseph’s Buonaparte’s escort, but it led to no serious result.
No hostile movement was apprehended--all foretold a quiet night--
when suddenly the horse-artillery opened in front of the village, and
announced that the outposts were attacked. In a few minutes it was
ascertained that the Portuguese dragoons had given way--and indeed,
their flight was most disgraceful; they rode off at speed, without
crossing a sabre, leaving their brave supporters, the horse-artillery,
surrounded by the enemy. Nor was theirs a momentary panic--the
fugitives dashed through the village of Majalahonda, without an attempt
to rally--while many of the startled horsemen there were cut down
before they could reach their saddles, and their colonel was killed
in the act of dressing.[198] But still, though surprised, the Germans
maintained their well-won reputation; these gallant troopers charged as
they best could; and in small bodies, sword in hand, met, checked, and
at last fairly drove back the lancers. The cowardice of the Portuguese
on this occasion was indefensible--they had scarcely a casualty to
shew--while, of the brave men who fought so gallantly, half-armed
and surprised, two hundred were put _hors de combat_, one hundred
and twenty horses carried off, and three guns taken. The cannon were
recovered--but, to use the words of an amusing writer, whose military
descriptions are lively and characteristic[199]--“it was one of the
most disgraceful and unlooked-for events that had taken place during
the campaign. To be beaten at any time was bad enough; but to be beaten
by a handful of lancers on the eve of our entering Madrid, almost in
view of the city, was worse than all.”
Next day, Wellington entered the capital, amidst the enthusiastic
acclamations of such of the inhabitants as remained. The Retiro was
immediately invested--and after a show of resistance, surrendered
on the morning of the 14th.[200] Besides two thousand prisoners, one
hundred and ninety pieces of cannon, nine hundred barrels of powder,
twenty thousand stand of arms, two millions of musket cartridges,
and the eagles of the 13th and 51st regiments, fell into the hands
of the victors. A large supply of cables and cordage was fortunately
discovered in the Casa del Campo; and with these materials the broken
arch of the bridge at Alcantara was repaired by the Royal Staff corps.
The occupation of Madrid carried out the effects produced by the
victory of Salamanca. French domination received a death-blow--and the
power of Napoleon a shock from which it never afterwards recovered.
CAPTURE OF MADRID.
Reasons for abandoning Madrid.--Clausel driven back.--Siege of
Burgos commenced.--Horn-work of San Michael stormed.--Second
assault fails.--Continuation of the siege.--First line carried by
assault.--French sally successful.--Fourth assault fails.--Siege
raised.
The occupation of Madrid was among the most brilliant epochs of
Peninsular history, and, from circumstances, it was also among the
briefest. The conquest of the capital was certainly a splendid exploit.
It told that Wellington held a position and possessed a power that in
England many doubted and more denied; and those, whose evil auguries
had predicted a retreat upon the shipping, and finally an abandonment
of the country, were astounded to find the allied leader victorious in
the centre of Seville, and dating his general orders from the palace
of the Spanish kings. The desertion of his capital by the usurper,
proclaimed the extent of Wellington’s success; and proved that his
victories were not, as had been falsely asserted at home, “conquests
only in name.”
Without entering into military history too extensively, it will be
necessary to observe, that on many expected events which should
have strengthened his means, and weakened those of his opponents,
Lord Wellington was miserably disappointed. Maitland’s diversion on
Catalonia had proved a failure. Ballasteros exhibited the impotent
assumption of free action, and refused obedience to the orders of the
British general--and Hill was therefore obliged to leave Estremadura,
to cover the three roads to Madrid. The Cortes, instead of straining
their energies to meet the exigencies of the moment, wasted time in
framing new constitutions, and in desultory and idle debates,--while
Wellington, removed from his supplies--his military chest totally
exhausted,[201] and his communications menaced, was imperatively
obliged to open others, and secure assistance from the only place on
which reliance could be reposed--the mother country.
It was, indeed, full time to move. The Spanish army were driven from
Gallicia, and Clausel threatened to interrupt the communications of the
allies with Portugal. Lord Wellington, therefore, decided on marching
against the army he had beaten at Salamanca; and leaving Hill’s
division to cover the capital, he left Madrid on the 1st of September,
and crossing the Douro on the 6th, moved on Burgos by Valencia.
That night Clausel abandoned Valladolid, and after crossing the
Pisuerga, destroyed the bridge of Berecal. Anxious to unite with
Castanos, Wellington waited for the Gallician army to come up--while
Clausel leisurely retreated through the valleys of Arlanzan and
Pisuerga, as remarkable for beauty and fertility, as for the endless
succession of strong posts which they afforded to a retiring army.
Clausel, after an able retreat, took a position at Cellada del Camino--
and to cover Burgos, offered battle to the allied commander. The
challenge was promptly accepted; but the French general, discovering
that a junction of twelve thousand Spaniards had strongly reinforced
his antagonist, prudently declined a combat, retired, and united his
own to Souham’s corps, which numbered above eight thousand men. This
reserve had been organized by Napoleon’s special orders--and was
intended to remedy any discomfiture which might befall Marmont in the
event of his being defeated by the allies.
The British entered the city of Burgos, from which the French had
previously retired, after garrisoning the castle with two thousand five
hundred men, under the command of General Dubreton. Twelve thousand
allied troops, comprising the first and sixth British divisions, with
two Portuguese brigades, sat down before the place; while the remainder
of Lord Wellington’s army, amounting to twenty-five thousand effective
troops, formed the covering army of the siege.
The castle of Burgos was a weak fortress, on which French ingenuity
had done wonders in rendering it defensible at all. It stood on a
bold and rocky height, and was surrounded by three distinct lines,
each placed within the other, and variously defended. The lower and
exterior line consisted of the ancient wall that embraced the bottom
of the hill, and which Caffarelli had strengthened by the addition of
a modern parapet, with salient[202] and re-entering flanks. The second
was a field retrenchment, strongly palisaded. The third, a work of
like construction, having two elevated points, on one of which the
ancient keep of the castle stood, and on the other, a well-intrenched
building called the White Church; and that being the most commanding
point, it was provided with a casemated work, and named in honour of
Napoleon. This battery domineered all around, excepting on its northern
face, where the hill of St. Michael rising nearly to a level with the
fortress, was defended by an extensive hornwork,[203] having a sloping
scarp and counterscarp, the former twenty-five feet in height, the
latter, ten. Although in an unfinished state, and merely palisaded, it
was under the fire of the castle and the Napoleon battery. The guns,
already mounted, comprised nine heavy cannon, eleven field-pieces, and
six mortars and howitzers; and, as the reserve artillery and stores of
the army of Portugal were deposited in the castle of Burgos, General
Dubreton had the power of increasing his armament to any extent he
thought fit.
Two days passed before the allies could cross the river. On the 19th
the passage was effected, and the French outposts on St. Michael
were driven in. That night, the hornwork itself was carried after a
sanguinary assault--the British losing in this short and murderous
affair upwards of four hundred men.
From the hill--now in possession of the allies--it was decided
that the future operations should be carried on, and the engineers
arranged that each line in succession should be taken by assault. The
place, on a close examination, was ascertained to be in no respect
formidable; but the means to effect its reduction, by comparison, were
feebler still. Nothing, indeed, could be less efficient--three long
18-pounders, and five 24-pound howitzers, formed the entire siege
artillery that Lord Wellington could obtain.
The head-quarters were fixed at Villa Toro. The engineering department
intrusted to Colonel Burgoyne, and the charge of the artillery to
colonels Robe and Dickson.
The second assault, that upon the exterior wall, was made on the night
of the 22nd by escalade. Major Laurie of the 79th, with detachments
from the different regiments before the place, formed the storming
party. The Portuguese, who led the attack, were quickly repulsed--and
though the British entered the ditch, they never could mount a ladder.
Those who attempted it were bayoneted from above--while shells,
combustibles, and cold shot were hurled on the assailants, who, after
a most determined effort for a quarter of an hour, were driven from
the ditch, leaving their leader, and half the number who composed the
storming party, killed and wounded.[204]
After this disastrous failure, an unsuccessful attempt to breach the
wall was tried--in effecting which, of the few guns in battery, two
were totally disabled by the commanding fire of the castle--and the
engineers resorted, from sheer necessity, to sap and mine. The former,
from the plunging fire kept up from the enemy’s defences, and which
occasioned a fearful loss, was speedily abandoned; but the latter was
carried vigorously on--and the outward wall mined, charged,[205] and
on the 29th, exploded.
At twelve o’clock at night the hose was fired--the storming party
having previously formed in a hollow way some fifty paces from the
gallery. When the mine was sprung, a portion of the wall came down,
and a sergeant and four privates, who formed the forlorn hope, rushed
through the smoke, mounted the ruins, and bravely crowned the breach.
But in the darkness, which was intense, the storming party and their
supporting companies, missed their way--and the French recovering from
their surprise, rushed to the breach, and drove the few brave men who
held it back to the trenches. The attack, consequently, failed, and
from a scarcity of shot no fire could be turned on the ruins. Dubreton
availed himself of this accidental advantage--and by daylight, the
breach was rendered impracticable again.
Still determined to gain the place, Lord Wellington continued
operations, although twelve days had elapsed since he had sat down
before it. A singular despondency, particularly among the Portuguese,
had arisen from those two failures; while insubordination was creeping
into the British regiments, which produced a relaxed discipline that
could not be overlooked, and which, in general orders, was consequently
strongly censured.
The siege continued; and, on the 4th of October, a battery opened from
Saint Michael’s against the old breach, while the engineers announced
that a powerful mine was prepared for springing. At five o’clock that
evening, the fusee was fired. The effect was grand and destructive--
one hundred feet of the wall was entirely demolished, and a number
of the French, who happened to be near it, were annihilated by the
explosion. The 24th regiment, already in readiness to storm, instantly
rushed forward, and both breaches were carried, but, unfortunately,
with heavy loss.
A lodgment was immediately effected--and preparations made for
breaching the second line of defence where it joined the first.
On the 5th, early in the evening, the French sallied with three hundred
men. The attack was too successful--one hundred and fifty of the guard
and working party were killed or wounded--the gabions overturned--the
works at the lodgment injured--and the intrenching tools carried off.
That night, however, the damage was repaired--the sap was rapidly
carried forward--and at last, the British had got so close to the
wall, that their own howitzers ceased firing, lest the workmen should
be endangered by their shot. The guns on Saint Michael’s battery had
also breached with good effect, and fifty feet of the parapet of the
second line was completely laid in ruins. But, in effecting these
successes, a heavy loss was inflicted on the besiegers--and of their
originally small means for carrying on a siege, the few pieces of
artillery they possessed at first, were now reduced to one serviceable
gun.
The weather had also changed, and rain fell in quantities and filled
the trenches. A spirit of discontent and indifference pervaded the
army. The labour was unwillingly performed--the guards loosely kept--
and Dubreton again sallied furiously, drove off the working party,
destroyed the new parallel, carried away the tools, and occasioned a
loss of more than two hundred men. Among the killed, none was lamented
more than Colonel Cocks, who having obtained promotion most deservedly
for previous gallantry, died at the head of his men, while rallying the
fugitives and repelling the sally.
Three assaults had failed--but still the allied commander did not
quit the place in despair. Preparations for another attempt were
continued--and the exertions of the engineers, of whom one-half
had fallen, were redoubled. Heated shot was tried against the White
Church unsuccessfully; while that of San Roman was marked as the more
vulnerable point, and a gallery commenced against it.
On the 17th, the great breach was again exposed by the fire of the
British guns, and the ramparts on either side extensively damaged.
A mine beneath the lower parallel was successfully exploded, and a
lodgment effected in a cavalier,[206] from whence the French had kept
up a destructive fire on the trenches. It was held but for a short
time, as the enemy came down in force, and drove the besiegers from
it. On the 18th, the breach was reported practicable, and an assault
decided on--the signal arranged being the springing of the mine
beneath the church of San Roman. That building was also to be assailed,
while the old breach was to be attempted by escalade--and thus, and
at the same moment, three distinct attacks would occupy the enemy’s
attention.
At half-past four the explosion of the mine gave the signal. A
countermine was immediately sprung by the French, and between both,
the church was partially destroyed, and Colonel Browne, with some
Portuguese and Spanish troops, seized upon the ruined building.
The Guards, who had volunteered a detachment, rushed through the
old breach, escaladed the second line, and, in front of the third,
encountered the French in considerable force--while two hundred of
the German Legion, under Major Wurmb, carried the new breach, pushing
up the hill, and fairly gaining the third line of the defences.
Unfortunately, however, these daring and successful efforts were not
supported with the promptness that was needed. The French reserves were
instantly advanced--they came on in overwhelming force--cleared the
breaches of the assailants--and drove them beyond the outer line, with
the loss of two hundred officers and men.
San Roman was taken the following night by the French, and recovered
again by the British. But with this affair the siege virtually
terminated--and Lord Wellington, by an imperious necessity, was
obliged to retire from a place of scarcely third-rate character, after
four attacks by assault, and a loss of two thousand men.
In war, the bravest and the most prudent measures are frequently marred
or made by fortune. Lord Wellington, with very insufficient means,
attempted the reduction of Burgos; and although skill and gallantry
were displayed in every essay, obstacles arose which checked the most
daring efforts; and all that science and determination could effect,
were vainly tried to overcome difficulties physically insurmountable.
Had Wellington possessed the requisite _matériel_ for the conduct of a
siege, Burgos must have been taken in a week.[207]
But let justice be done to its defenders. Much was expected from them--
and assuredly, the governor and garrison of the castle of Burgos
realized the high reliance placed upon their skill and heroism by their
countrymen.
On the 18th, the British corps united. On the 20th some trifling
affairs occurred between the outposts--and on the 21st the siege of
Burgos was regularly raised, and Lord Wellington issued orders for
retiring from before the place.
RETREAT FROM BURGOS.
Retreat commences.--Affair at Harmoza.--The Carrion passed.--
Excesses at Torquemada.--Affairs of the Pisuerga and Villa
Muriel.--Retreat.--Affair at Huebra.--A British division
endangered.--Irregularities of the army produce a strong official
rebuke.--Lord Wellington’s honours increased.--Army goes into
cantonments for the winter.
A retreat was unavoidable; and, to be successful, it must be rapid. Two
roads were open; and by either Lord Wellington might fall back. The
longer of the two was by the bridge of Villaton--and by taking it the
allies would be safe from present interruption. The other crossed the
river of Arlanzan at Burgos--and by following that the retreat would
be shortened by a day’s march--but to gain that road, the army must
defile directly beneath the guns of the castle.
By this latter route, however, Wellington determined to retire--and
the strictest secrecy was observed, while all was prepared for a
night-march. When darkness had shrouded the besiegers and the besieged,
the position was quietly abandoned; the infantry defiled across the
bridge in perfect silence--while the wheels of the gun-carriages were
muffled with straw, to prevent their being overheard by the French
sentinels, and thus provoke a fire from the place.[208]
There is no doubt that this dangerous passage would have been
accomplished without discovery, had not some guerilla horsemen rashly
galloped over, and betrayed to the garrison the movement of the allies
then in progress. In anticipation of the attempt, the guns of the works
having been already trained upon the bridge, the first discharge from
the French artillery was destructive; but the range was lost after a
round or two, and in the darkness it could not be recovered. By this
bold and well-planned manœuvre, Lord Wellington extricated his entire
baggage and field equipage; and the allies were placed on the other
side of the Arlanzan, and in the direct line of their retreat, with a
loss comparatively trifling.
That night, the infantry reached Hormillas and Cellada del Camino,
and the cavalry, Estepar and Villa Baniel--while Souham remained in
perfect ignorance of Wellington’s retreat, until late on the evening of
the 22nd.
On the 23rd, the infantry, after a long march, crossed the Pisuerga
at Cordovillas and Torquemada; but the rear-guard were overtaken and
attacked. Although greatly overmatched, the British cavalry made a bold
stand, and for a time disputed the passage of the Harmoza. But they
were obliged to retire as fresh squadrons of the enemy moved rapidly
forward.
Part of the English dragoons crossed by a marshy rivulet, leaving
Anson’s cavalry and the German light infantry as a rear-guard. The
French came on with great impetuosity, and were charged and checked
by the 11th light dragoons and horse artillery; but their numbers
prevailed--the English were forced back--the guerilla horse
completely routed--and some prisoners made. After much severe and
desultory fighting, in which the fierceness of the pursuers was fully
equalled by the obstinate resistance of the retreating horsemen, the
British cavalry were driven back upon the Germans, under Halket.
Fortunately the latter had gained a position--and assisted by the fire
of the artillery, their fusilade fell on the left flank of the French
with such murderous effect, that, failing in three determined charges,
they were at last forced to fall back behind the heights, allowing the
British rear-guard, without further molestation, to retire.
Wellington having crossed the Carrion on the 24th, was joined by a
brigade of the Guards. The weather was bad, the means of transport
wretched, the sick and wounded were beyond the Duero, and thus
circumstanced, the allied commander determined to make a stand. The
allies, therefore, occupied a range of heights, with the Carrion in
their front, and their right wing resting on the Pisuerga.
Torquemada had witnessed a most disgraceful scene of riot and confusion
on the part of the British. There, immense wine-stores were found and
plundered--and it was computed that at one time, twelve thousand
men were lying in the streets and houses in a state of helpless
intoxication. Nor was the boasted sobriety of the French proof against
the temptation these well-stored cellars presented. On their subsequent
occupation of the town, Souham was obliged to stay his march for twelve
hours,--for his own corps numbered more drunkards even than that of
Lord Wellington had done.
The 25th was given as a halt-day to the troops--while necessary
preparations were made for continuing the retreat, and interrupting
the passage of the Carrion. All the bridges were ordered to be blown
up--but the mines were in some cases so defective, that they failed
entirely, and allowed the French an easy passage, while others of their
troops crossed by the fords.[209] The working and covering parties
at Banos and Palentia were made prisoners, and a quantity of baggage
picked up by the enemy’s light cavalry. At Pisuerga, the corps that
Souham pushed forward was attacked and driven back; and at Villa
Muriel, after a sharp contest, the enemy were obliged to retire, and
abandon the bank of the river that they had succeeded in occupying for
a time.
On the 26th, having repaired the bridges, Souham crossed the Carrion
in pursuit of the allies. On the 27th he was in force in front of
Cabezon, and showed himself in such strength as determined Lord
Wellington at once to fall back behind the Duero, and still further
behind the Tormes, in the event of his being more closely pressed
by the enemy. On the 28th, the French general extended his right to
outflank the allies, and advanced against the troops who held the
passes over the Pisguera and the Duero. Unable to maintain the bridges,
they were effectually destroyed; and a town and wood, behind that of
Tordesillas, were occupied by the regiment of Brunswick Oels, until the
Germans were driven from both by the French, who effected the passage
of the Duero with uncommon gallantry.
On the 29th, Wellington, after destroying the bridges at Valladolid
and Cabezon, passed the river by those of Tudela and Ponte Duero. The
passage of the French at Tordesillas obliged him instantly to move
to his left, and take a position near Rueda--and there he remained,
until joined by Sir Rowland Hill upon the 5th of November--who, after
leaving a corps in Alba de Tormes, had fallen back before Joseph
Buonaparte and Marshal Soult, with scarcely any loss. Wellington,
having effected this object, and united himself with his detached
corps, retired on the 7th to Torricilla,--and on the 8th halted in
front of Salamanca.
Meanwhile, the armies of the north, south, and centre, had formed
a junction on the right bank of the Tormes--and on the 10th, they
attacked the town and castle of Alba, but without success. Passing
the Tormes, at Lucinas, on the 14th, Soult, who commanded in chief,
took a position on the wooded heights of Mozarbes. That evening the
hostile armies were in each other’s presence; a distant cannonade
and some trifling skirmishing took place; and, on the 15th, Lord
Wellington formed beside the Arapiles and offered battle, which was
declined. The enemy extended to the right, threatening to interrupt the
communications with Rodrigo--and from the immense disparity of his
force,[210] Wellington was obliged to move promptly by his right, and
seize the roads leading into Portugal.
The weather was desperate--rain fell in torrents--the roads were
rendered almost impassable--the men were knee-deep in the sloughs--
and the transport of the guns and baggage had become a work of infinite
difficulty. The imposing steadiness with which the British rear-guard
retired before the French advance, checked any attempt that Soult might
have entertained of pressing the retreat so closely as to bring Lord
Wellington to action, and especially on ground that he himself would
not select, on which to make a stand. Ciudad Rodrigo was gained on the
18th, and the frontier crossed upon the 20th. The 17th had passed in
continued demonstrations of attack, and frequent skirmishes. Not daring
to assail the columns, every advantage that a wooded country would
permit, was seized upon to cut off stragglers and secure baggage. In
many attempts on both, the enemy were successful; and a British general
of division, Sir Edward Paget, was carried off while literally in the
centre of his own brigades.
The main body of the allies had already crossed the Huebra, when the
French infantry and artillery came up in force, and obliged the cavalry
to cross the fords--and a delay in retiring the light division from
the position they had been placed in on the edge of the forest, brought
on a sharp affair. The British, however, effected the passage of the
river with inconsiderable loss--and every effort the French made to
carry the fords failed owing to the steadiness with which they were
defended. The firing was kept up till dark--and although the light
and seventh divisions were exposed in column to a plunging fire from
thirty guns, their loss was miraculously small, as “this clayey soil,
saturated with rain, swallowed the shot and smothered the shells.”[211]
On the 18th, the retreat was continued--Lord Wellington having given
the necessary directions as to the line of march which the different
divisions of his army should pursue--his orders were disobeyed--and
serious results had nearly been occasioned. Happily, his lordship
discovered the irregularity of his subordinate officers in time
to avert disastrous consequences. The retreating brigades were
completely arrested by a flooded river--and with great difficulty
were extricated, from what would have been, very shortly, a desperate
and hopeless position. Indeed, so critically were they situated, that
the light division, composing the rear-guard, were obliged to cross
a gulley by single files, effecting the passage by means of a fallen
tree.[212]
Here the retreat virtually closed. The weather improved; and having
fallen back upon his resources, Lord Wellington was enabled to recruit
his exhausted soldiery. Abundant fuel, dry bivouacs, and plentiful
rations, produced a speedy change; and men wearied and worn down by
privations and incessant fatigue, rapidly recovered their health and
spirits. The moment the enemy had abandoned the pursuit, the light
cavalry and guerilla horse were despatched to scour the woods, and
rescue such sufferers as survived. Their efforts were attended with
success--and more than fifteen hundred wounded or disabled men were
brought into the hospitals and saved.
The total casualties sustained by the troops during the siege and
subsequent retreat of Burgos, were very numerous--and in no point
are military writers and official returns more at variance, than in
the respective estimates they form of the losses of the allies. Where
such immense discrepancy exists, it is hard to come to any thing like
an accurate conclusion. The French asserted that the allies lost twelve
thousand men, _hors de combat_; the English reduced it to little more
than twelve hundred. Between these extremes, the mean is more likely to
prove correct; and there can be little doubt, all casualties included,
that in the siege and subsequent operations to the 29th of October,
seven thousand men were sacrificed.[213]
The retreat from Burgos was not only remarkable for the sufferings they
endured, but also for the insubordination exhibited by the soldiery.
The mass of the army became drunkards and marauders. The wine-stores
in the towns and villages on the line of march were broken into and
despoiled of their contents; and multitudes, through inebriety, either
perished or were made prisoners. In Valderoso alone, two hundred and
fifty men were left drunk in the cellars--and, of course, they fell
into the hands of the French. Drunkenness produced cruelty--and many
of the peasantry hitherto well affected to the allies,[214] perished
by the hands of infuriated savages, who seemed reckless whether friend
or foe became the victim of their ferocity. Napier says, that on the
first day’s march from Madrid, he reckoned seventeen murdered peasants,
either lying on the road or thrown into the ditches.
Another mischievous breach of discipline had become very general.
Numerous herds of swine were found among the woods--and the soldiers
broke from their columns, and commenced shooting pigs wherever they
could be found. The spattering fire kept up in the forest by these
marauders, frequently occasioned an unnecessary alarm, and thus
disturbed the brief space allowed for rest to the exhausted soldiers.
Nothing but the greatest severity checked this most dangerous offence--
and though some of the delinquents, when taken “red-handed” and in
the very fact, were hanged in the sight of their guilty comrades, the
evil was but partially abated by the example; for hunger had made the
starving soldiery indifferent to the desperate consequences their
offending was certain to draw down.
The excesses committed during the retreat, drew from Lord Wellington
an official letter, addressed to the commanding officers of regiments,
that occasioned at the time considerable dissatisfaction.[215]
Probably, the terms in which his censure was conveyed, were stronger
than they should have been. The sufferings of the troops were great
beyond belief--men marching night and day, under an incessant deluge,
knee-deep in mire, without shelter or a place to rest upon, their
whole sustenance a scanty ration of over-driven beef, frequently
devoured half-raw--all these should have been well considered--and
while the soldiery could not be justified in acts of violence and
rapine, still they might urge much in extenuation of crimes committed
under the influence of want, misery and despair![216]
Honours, in the mean time, were conferred upon the able, but
unsuccessful besieger of Burgos. At home, Lord Wellington was advanced
to a Marquisate in the peerage, while Parliament added 100,000_l._
to assist him to support this dignity. He was also appointed to
the Colonelcy of the Blues--while the rank of Duke of Vitoria was
conferred upon him by the Prince Regent of Portugal, with emoluments
attached to it valued at 15,000 dollars annually. The honour bestowed
upon him the Marquis of Wellington accepted--but the income, with
becoming dignity, he respectfully declined.
After the French retired behind the Tormes, the allies took up their
winter cantonments. Hill passed the Sierra de Gata, and established
his corps in the province of Coria, with posts at the passes of Bejar
and Banos. The remaining divisions were comfortably disposed of--part
of the brigades occupying quarters in the district of Beira, while the
others were cantoned upon the banks of the Douro.
ADVANCE FROM THE DOURO TO THE ZADORRA.
British army organized anew.--Reinforced from England.--Relative
strength and positions of the rival armies.--Joseph retires.--
General appearance of the French corps d’armée.--Wellington
suddenly advances.--His bold and successful operations.--
Beautiful scenery.--Affairs of Saint Millan, Osma, and the
Bayas.--Joseph enters Vitoria.
Winter passed away--the army recovered from its hardships--and Lord
Wellington was indefatigable in perfecting the equipment of every
department, to enable him to take the field efficiently when the season
should come round, and active operations could be again renewed. In
its minuter details, the interior economy of the regiments underwent
a useful reformation. The large and cumbrous camp-kettles hitherto in
use, were discarded, and small ones substituted in their place; while
three tents were served to each company, affording, particularly to the
sick and disabled, a means of shelter in the field which hitherto had
been wanting.
Nothing could surpass the splendid state of discipline that this period
of inactivity had produced, while the allied army was reposing in
winter quarters. Its _matériel_ was now truly magnificent; powerful
reinforcements having arrived from England. The Life and Horse
Guards had joined the cavalry; and that arm, hitherto the weakest,
was increased to nineteen efficient regiments. The infantry had been
recruited from the militias at home--the artillery was complete in
every requisite for the field--while a well-arranged commissariate,
with ample means of transport, facilitated the operations of the most
serviceable force which had ever taken the field under the leading of
an English general.
Previous to the opening of the campaign in May, 1813, the
Anglo-Portuguese army numbered close upon seventy thousand men of all
arms, and were cantoned in the neighbourhood of the Douro. Morillo’s
corps occupied Estremadura; Giron held the frontier of Gallicia;
O’Donel was stationed in Andalusia; Elio on the frontiers of Murcia and
Valencia; and the Duc del Parque, with a strong corps, held possession
of La Mancha.
The French, at that time, might have probably mustered one hundred and
fifty thousand men in Spain. Madrid and Toledo were in the occupation
of the armies of the centre and the south, whose corps were spread over
the central provinces. Valladolid had the head-quarters of the army of
Portugal; the line of the Douro was carefully observed, while Suchet
occupied Valencia and Catalonia; and a part of the army of the north
was quartered in Aragon and Biscay.
Never did a leader take the field under more promising auspices, than
those with which the allied commander opened the campaign of 1813. The
Spanish troops were strong in numbers, and considerably improved in
discipline; while the guerilla leaders were in great force, and ready
for daring enterprise. Summer was coming fast--a rich and luxurious
country was before him,--every requisite prepared for his march; his
troops flushed with victory; and his opponents dispirited by constant
discomfiture. Even the opening movements tended to increase these
feelings--for the British were preparing to advance, and the French
already retrograding. No wonder, then, that the brilliant hopes of
a country were fully realized; that the career of English conquest
continued almost without a check; and the fields of France saw her
banners float in victory, until the last struggles at Orthes and
Toulouse, attested the invincibility of Wellington and his island
soldiery!
While the allies were preparing to march, Joseph Buonaparte put the
army of the centre into motion, and, followed by those of the south and
Portugal, retired slowly on the Ebro. As they were not pressed by the
British light troops, the enemy’s corps moved leisurely towards the
frontier, accompanied by enormous trains of equipage and baggage.
The appearance of the French army was more picturesque than military.
It was crowded in its march, and too fanciful both in the character
of its equipment and the variety of its costume. The line and light
infantry excepted, few of the regiments were similarly dressed. The
horse artillery wore uniforms of light blue, braided with black lace.
The heavy cavalry were arrayed in green coats with brass helmets.
The chasseurs and hussars, mounted on slight and active horses,
were showily and variously equipped. The “gendarmerie à cheval,” a
picked body chosen from the cavalry at large, had long blue frocks,
with cocked hats and buff belts; while the _élite_ of the dragoons,
selected for superior size and general appearance, were distinguished
by bear-skin caps, and wore a look of martial determination, that
their past and future bearing in the battle-field did not belie. Each
regiment of the line had its company of grenadiers and voltigeurs--
even the light regiments having a company of the former. The appearance
of the whole force was soldierly and imposing--the cavalry was indeed
superb--and the artillery, as to guns, caissons, and appointments,
most complete; and, better still, their horses were in excellent
condition.
Both armies were in the highest state of efficiency--for to both the
undivided attention of their commanding officers had been directed--
and yet in their respective equipments, a practised eye would detect
a marked dissimilarity. With the British every thing was simple,
compact, and limited, as far as its being serviceable would admit,--
while the French were sadly incumbered with useless equipages and
accumulated plunder. Those of the Spanish noblesse who had acknowledged
the usurper, now accompanied his retreat,--state functionaries, in
court-dresses and rich embroidery, were mingled with the troops,--
calashes, carrying wives or mistresses, moved between brigades of
guns; while nuns from Castile and ladies from Andalusia, attired _en
militaire_ and mounted on horseback, deserted castle and convent, to
follow the fortunes of some soldier or employé. Excepting that of his
great brother when retreating from Moscow, no army since the days of
Xerxes, was so overloaded with spoil and baggage as that of Joseph
Buonaparte.
Although this abuse had not escaped the observation of many of the best
officers in the army of the usurper, the facility with which these
enormous ambulances were transported encouraged rather than repressed
the evil. Looking on Spain as a conquered country, the means necessary
to forward their convoys were unscrupulously seized--and every horse
and mule was considered the property of the finder. The roads were
good--the retreat unmolested--on the 10th, no enemy had appeared--
and the allies were remaining quietly in their quarters. The fancied
apathy of the English general was extraordinary--and prisoners were
asked by their French escort, “Was Lord Wellington asleep?”
But nothing could exceed the astonishment of Joseph, when, on the
evening of the 18th, he was informed that the allies in considerable
force, were actually on the left bank of the Ebro! The French
dispositions were rendered useless, and an immediate night-march became
unavoidable. The drums beat to arms--the baggage was put in motion--
and the entire of the French corps which had occupied Pancorbo or
bivouacked in its vicinity, were hastily collected, and moved rapidly
towards Vitoria.
Lord Wellington’s sudden advance was equally brilliant in conception
and execution. While he had thrown five divisions over the Douro, to
move through the Tras as Montes, upon Zamora, Hill was marching over
the mountain district of Estremadura on the Tormes, and Lord Wellington
on Salamanca, with two Anglo-Portuguese, a Spanish division, and a
strong cavalry corps. The right wing of the allies took a position
between the Tormes and the Douro--while Sir Thomas Graham, with the
left, passed over a most difficult country, and surmounting every
obstacle that bad roads and dangerous rivers could present, threatened
the right of the French by Carvajales and Miranda.
On gaining the frontier, Graham secured his communication with the
Gallician corps under Giron. The French retired, from the Esla, and the
left wing of the British crossed it on the 31st of May. A difficult
and defensible river was thus safely passed--and the enemy retreated,
after blowing up the bridges of Zamora and Toro. At Morales, the French
rear-guard, was overtaken and brought to action. Colonel Grant, with
the hussar brigade, completely overthrew it,--killing a considerable
number and capturing above two hundred men. Julian Sanchez was equally
successful--he having surprised a French picket at Castronuno.
No movements executed during the Peninsular campaign exceeded in
brilliant effect the rapid advance of the allied army from the Douro
to the Bayas. Joseph had been obliged to abandon the capital, and fall
back on Burgos. This was a necessary measure to ensure a concentration
of his _corps d’armée_,--but still, it was considered doubtful
whether Lord Wellington would continue his onward march, and under all
circumstances, actually become assailant.
But the French leaders were astray when they fancied that the allied
general would remain inactive. Quickly as the Douro had been crossed,
the Carrion and the Pisuerga were as rapidly passed over. The enemy
fell back on Burgos to concentrate, having occupied the heights above
Harmoza with a strong corps. On the 12th, Hill’s division and the
cavalry obliged Count Reille to fall back--and on the next morning the
French retreated on Miranda, after abandoning Burgos and blowing up the
castle.[217]
“It can hardly be imagined what additional interest even a brilliant
operation will acquire from local circumstances, and the character
of the country through which the line of march runs. The advance to
the Zadorra exhibited, at every point of view, scenery beautiful
as diversified. In it there was a singular combination of romantic
wildness mingled with exquisite fertility. One while the columns moved
through luxurious valleys, intersprinkled with hamlets, vineyards,
and flower-gardens; at another, they struggled up mountain ridges, or
pressed through alpine passes overhung with topping cliffs, making
it almost difficult to decide, whether the rugged chasm which they
were traversing had been rifted from the hill-side by an earthquake,
or scarped by human hands. If the eye turned downwards, there lay
sparkling rivers and sunny dells; above rose naked rocks and splintered
precipices; while moving masses of glittering soldiery, now lost, now
seen, amid the windings of the route, gave a panoramic character to the
whole, that never can fade from the memory of him who saw it.”[218]
Pancorbo had been regularly garrisoned; and to force the Ebro, with
a numerous and efficient army occupying its banks, would have been
equally tedious in operation, and uncertain in results. Wellington,
with admirable skill, suddenly branched to his left, and moved rapidly
towards the sources of the river; and, on the 14th and 15th, crossed
it safely by the mountain bridges of San Martin and Puente de Arenas.
Of course, the march, from the nearly impassable character of the line
of country over which it ran, required the determination and _esprit_
of British soldiers to accomplish. It was gallantly achieved; and
that too, by a route hitherto unattempted by an army, and which every
where presented the most formidable positions that a retreating corps
could wish to hold. Yet Wellington’s march was unopposed,--and until
the 18th, no hostile collision interrupted the order of the allied
movements.
Two French brigades were overtaken by the light division. They had
taken a position on the heights of Saint Milan; and although the ground
was most unfavourable for an attack, nothing could surpass the dashing
gallantry with which the British light troops assailed the enemy.
The road by which it was necessary to attack, was rugged, steep, and
narrow, overhung with crags and copse-wood; while a mountain stream
protected the French front, and some straggling cottages increased the
difficulty of advancing, by affording good cover to the voltigeurs
formed behind them. After a sharp fusilade, the enemy gave ground, and
the light brigade was pressing forward, when suddenly, a fresh column
debouched from a ravine, and appeared on the flank of the assailants.
Both rushed on to gain the crest of the hill--and both reached the
plateau together. The 52nd, bringing their left flank forward in a run,
faced sharply round, and charged with the bayonet. The conflict was but
momentary; the French broke, threw away their knapsacks, and fled to
gain the neighbouring high grounds, leaving their arms and baggage, and
nearly three hundred of their number _hors de combat_.
On the same day, Jourdan suddenly attacked Graham’s corps at Osma, but
he was driven back on Espejo; and falling farther back, the French took
up a strong position behind the Bayas, with their right on the village
of Sabijana; but they held it only till next day,--when being attacked
in front, and their left turned, they fell back and united the _corps
d’armée_ in front of Vitoria.[219]
That city, on the evening of 19th, displayed a singular spectacle of
hurry and alarm--confusion and magnificence. Joseph Buonaparte, with
his staff and guards, the entire of his court, and the head-quarters
of the army of the centre, accompanied by an endless collection of
equipages, intermingled with cavalry, artillery, and their numerous
ambulances, occupied the buildings and crowded the streets--while an
unmanageable mass of soldiers and civilians were every moment increased
by fresh arrivals, all vainly seeking for accommodation in a town
unequal to afford shelter to half their number.
“But a yet stranger scene was enacting in Vitoria. While the city was
brilliantly illuminated in honour of the pseudo-king,--and a gayer
sight could not be fancied than its sparkling interior presented;--
beyond the walls, an army was taking a position, and a multitude of the
peasants, forced by the French engineers, were employed in throwing
up field defences, and assisting those who had ruled them with an
iron hand to place their guns in battery, and make other military
dispositions to repel the army of the allies, who were advancing to
effect their deliverance.”[220]
VITORIA.
City of Vitoria.--French position.--Opening, progress, and close of
the engagement.--Field of battle.
Vitoria is a city of great antiquity, and the capital of the province
of Alava. It stands in a valley surrounded on every side by high
grounds, while in the distance a lesser range of the Pyrenees is
visible. Its name is derived from some forgotten victory, or, as some
assert, from one achieved by its founder, Sancho VII. In front of this
city[221] Joseph Buonaparte concentrated his _corps d’armée_ on the
night of the 19th, to cover the town, and hold the three great roads
leading from Lagrona, Madrid, and Bilboa, to Bayonne.
The day of the 20th was occupied by Lord Wellington in bringing forward
his detached brigades, and making a careful _reconnaissance_ of the
enemy. Although, generally, the position selected by Marshal Jourdan
was strong, and certainly well chosen to effect the objects for which
he risked a battle, still it had one material defect. Its great extent
would permit many simultaneous efforts to be made by an attacking army;
and accordingly on the following day, the allied leader, with admirable
skill, availed himself of this advantage--and a most decisive victory
was the result.
In point of strength, the contending armies were nearly equal, each
numbering from seventy to seventy-five thousand men, the allies
exceeding the French, probably by five thousand. Perfect in every arm,
more splendid troops were never ranged upon a battle-field. Both armies
were ably commanded,--nominally, Joseph was général-en-chef--but
Jourdan chose the ground, and directed every disposition.
The morning of the 21st broke in glorious sunshine. The atmosphere was
cloudless--and from the adjacent heights the progress of the battle
could be distinctly viewed, except when smoke-wreaths for a time hid
the combatants from many an anxious looker-on.
The French corps occupied a line of nearly eight miles,--the extreme
left placed upon the heights of La Puebla, and the right resting on
an eminence above the villages of Abechuco and Gamarra Mayor. The
centre was posted along a range of hills on the left bank of the river;
while a strong corps, resting its right flank upon the left centre,
was formed on the bold high grounds which rise behind the village of
Sabijana. The reserve was placed at the village of Gomecha; and the
banks of the Zadorra, and a small wood between the centre and the
right, were thickly lined with tirailleurs. The first line consisted
of the armies of Portugal and the south; and the army of the centre,
with the greater portion of the cavalry, formed the reserve. That part
of the position near the village of Gomecha, having been considered
by Jourdan his most vulnerable point, was defended by a numerous
artillery. The bridges were fortified--the communications from one
part of the position to the other were direct--a deep river ran in
front--the great roads to Bayonne and Pamplona in the rear--while, to
arrest Wellington’s career, and preserve the immense convoys within the
city, or on the road to France, loaded with the plunder of a despoiled
capital and a denuded country, the pseudo-king determined to accept the
battle, which the British leader was now prepared to deliver.[222]
During the Peninsular campaigns, there was no battle fought that
required nicer combinations, and a more correct calculation in
time and movement, than that of Vitoria. It was impossible for Lord
Wellington to bring up, to an immediate proximity for attack, every
portion of his numerous army, and hence many of his brigades had
bivouacked on the preceding night a considerable distance from the
Zadorra. Part of the country before Vitoria was difficult and rocky;
and hamlets, enclosures, and ravines, separated the columns from each
other; hence some of them were obliged to move by narrow and broken
roads--and arrangements, perfect in themselves, were liable to
embarrassment from numerous contingencies. But the genius that directed
these extended operations, could remedy fortuitous events, should such
occur.
At daybreak, on the 21st, Wellington’s dispositions were complete, and
the allied army in motion. Sir Rowland Hill, with the second British,
Amarante’s Portuguese, and Morillo’s[223] Spanish divisions, was
ordered to storm the heights of La Puebla, occupied by the enemy’s
left. The first and fifth divisions, with Pack’s and Bradford’s
brigades, Bock’s and Anson’s cavalry, and Longa’s Spanish corps, were
directed to turn the French right, cross the Zadorra, and seize on the
Bayonne road. The third, fourth, seventh, and light divisions, were to
advance in two columns and attack Vitoria in front and flank, and thus
oblige Jourdan either to come to a general engagement, or abandon the
city and sacrifice his valuable convoys.
At dawn of day, Joseph placed himself upon a height that overlooked his
right and centre. He was attended by a numerous staff, and protected
by his own body-guard. Wellington chose an eminence in front of the
village of Arinez, commanding the right bank of the Zadorra, and
continued there, observing through a glass the progress of the fight,
and directing the movements of his divisions, as calmly as he would
have inspected their movements at a review.
The attack commenced by Hill’s division moving soon after daylight by
the Miranda road, and the detaching of Morillo’s Spanish corps to carry
the heights of La Puebla, and drive in the left flank of the enemy.
The latter task was a difficult one, as the ground rose abruptly from
the valley, and towering to a considerable height, presented a sheer
ascent, that at first sight appeared almost impracticable.
The Spaniards, with great difficulty, although unopposed, reached
the summit; and there, among rocks and broken ground, became sharply
engaged with the French left. Perceiving that they were unable to force
the enemy from the heights, Sir Rowland Hill advanced a British brigade
to Morillo’s assistance; while, alarmed for the safety of his flank,
Jourdan detached troops from his centre to support the division that
held La Puebla. A fierce and protracted combat ensued--the loss on
both sides was severe--and Colonel Cadogan fell at the head of his
brigade. But gradually and steadily the British gained ground; and
while the eyes of both armies were turned upon the combatants and the
possession of the heights seemed doubtful still, the eagle glance of
Wellington discovered the forward movement of the Highland tartans, and
he announced to his staff, that La Puebla was carried.[224]
The village of Sabijana was the next object of attack--and a brigade
of the second division stormed it after a short but determined
resistance. As that village covered the left of their line, the French
made many efforts to recover its possession; but it was most gallantly
retained until the left and centre of the allies moved up, and the
attack on the enemy’s line became general.
While Sabijana was repeatedly assaulted, the light division was formed
in close columns under cover of some broken ground, and at a short
distance from the river. The hussar brigade, dismounted, were on
the left; and the fourth division in position on the right, waiting
the signal for advancing. The heavy cavalry formed a reserve to the
centre, in event of its requiring support before the third and seventh
divisions had come up; and the first and fifth, with a Spanish and
Portuguese corps, were detached to occupy the road to San Sebastian,
and thus intercept the enemy’s retreat.
Presently, an opening cannonade upon the left announced that Sir Thomas
Graham was engaged, and Lord Dalhousie notified his arrival with
the third and seventh divisions at Mendonza. The moment for a grand
movement had come--Lord Wellington saw and seized the crisis of the
day, and ordered a general attack on the whole extent of the French
position.
The light division moved forward under cover of a thicket, and placed
itself opposite the enemy’s right centre, about two hundred paces from
the bridge of Villoses--and on the arrival of Lord Dalhousie, the
signal was given to advance. At this critical moment an intelligent
Spaniard opportunely came up, and announced that one of the bridges was
undefended. The mistake was quickly seized upon. A brigade, led by the
first rifles, crossed it at a run--and, without any loss, established
itself in a deep ravine, where it was completely protected from the
enemy’s cannonade.
Nothing could be more beautiful than the operations which followed.
The light division carried the bridge of Nanclaus, and the fourth that
of Tres Puentes; the divisions of Picton and Dalhousie followed, and
the battle became general. The passage of the river--the movement of
glittering masses from right to left, far as the eye could range--
the deafening roar of cannon--the sustained fusilade of infantry--
all was grand and imposing; while the English cavalry, displayed in
glorious sunshine and formed in line to support the columns, completed
a spectacle, grand and magnificent beyond description.
Immediately after crossing the Zadorra, Colville’s brigade became
seriously engaged with a strong French corps, and gallantly defeated
it. Pressing on with characteristic impetuosity, and without halting
to correct the irregularity a recent and successful struggle had
occasioned, the brigade encountered on the brow of the hill,
two lines of French infantry regularly drawn up, and prepared to
receive their assailants. For a moment the result was regarded with
considerable apprehension, and means actually adopted for sustaining
the brigade, when--as that event seemed inevitable--it should be
repulsed by the enemy. But valour overcame every disadvantage, and
the perfect formation of the French could not withstand the dashing
onset of the assailants. Their rush was irresistible--on went
these daring soldiers, “sweeping before them the formidable array
that, circumstanced as they were, appeared calculated to produce
annihilation.”
While the combined movements of the different divisions were thus in
every place successful, the attack on the village of Arinez failed,
and the 88th were repulsed in an attempt to storm it. Here, the French
fought desperately--and here alone, the fortune of the day wavered for
a moment. Nothing could exceed the obstinacy with which the village was
defended; but, under a severe fire, Lord Wellington in person directed
a fresh assault. The 45th and 74th ascended the height; the French were
fairly forced out at the point of the bayonet, and Arinez, after a
sanguinary struggle, was won.
Meanwhile the flank movements on Gamarra Mayor and Abechuco were
effected with splendid success. Both villages, having bridges across
the river, were filled with troops and vigorously defended. Gamarra
Mayor was stormed with the bayonet by Oswald’s division without
firing a shot; and, under cover of the artillery, Halket’s German
light infantry, and Bradford’s Portuguese caçadores, advanced against
Abechuco. Nothing could be more gallant than their assault--the French
were dislodged from the village with heavy loss, and the bridges left
in the undisputed possession of the victors.
The whole of the enemy’s first line were now driven back, but they
retired in perfect order, and re-forming close to Vitoria, presented an
imposing front, protected by nearly one hundred pieces of artillery.
A tremendous fire checked the advance of the left centre; and the
storm of the guns on both sides raged with unabated fury for an hour.
Vitoria, although so near the combatants, was hidden from view by
the dense smoke--while volley after volley from the French infantry
thinned, though it could not shake, Picton’s “fighting third.”
It was a desperate and final effort. The allies were advancing in
beautiful order; while confusion was already visible in the enemy’s
ranks, as their left attempted to retire by eschelons of divisions--
a dangerous movement when badly executed. Presently the cannon were
abandoned, and the whole mass of French troops commenced a most
disorderly retreat by the road to Pamplona.
“The sun was setting, and his last rays fell upon a magnificent
spectacle. Red masses of infantry were seen advancing steadily across
the plain--the horse-artillery at a gallop to the front, to open its
fire on the fugitives--the hussar brigade charging by the Camino
Real--while the second division, having overcome every obstacle, and
driven the enemy from its front, was extending over the heights upon
the right in line, its arms and appointments flashing gloriously, in
the fading sunshine of ‘departing day.’”[225]
Never had an action been more general, nor the attacks on every part
of an extended position more simultaneous and successful. In the line
of operations six bridges over the Zadorra were crossed or stormed--
that on the road to Burgos enabled Lord Hill to pass; the fourth
division crossed that of Nanclares; the light, at Tres Puentes; Picton
and Dalhousie passed the river lower down; while Lord Lynedoch carried
Abechuco and Gamarra Mayor, though both were strongly fortified, and
both obstinately defended.
Driven completely through Vitoria, the French never made an attempt
to rally. The formation of their army was totally destroyed, and its
disorganization completed. Indeed, no defeat could have been more
decisive--the _déroute_ was general; and an army, at sunrise perfect
in every arm, had become at evening a mixed and helpless mob. Even
at Ocana and Medellin, the raw, undisciplined, and ill-commanded
Spaniards had never been more completely routed. Very few of the
infantry retained their muskets,[226] and many threw away their whole
accoutrements in order to expedite their flight. All were abandoned
to the conquerors--and the travelling carriage of the pseudo-king,
with his wardrobe, plate, wines, and private correspondence, were
found among the spoils. Indeed, Joseph himself narrowly escaped from
being added to the list; for Captain Wyndham made a bold dash at
“The Intruder,” with a squadron of the 10th hussars, and firing into
the coach, obliged him to leave it, and ride off at speed under the
protection of a strong escort of cavalry.
Night closed upon the victors and the vanquished--and darkness and
broken ground favoured the escape of battalions flying from the field
in mob-like disorder, and incapable of any resistance, had they been
overtaken and attacked. Two leagues from Vitoria, however, the pursuit
was reluctantly given up,--but the horse-artillery, while a shot could
reach the fugitives, continued to harass the retreat.
The whole baggage and field equipage of three distinct armies fell,
on this occasion, into the hands of the conquerors. One hundred and
fifty pieces of cannon, four hundred caissons, twelve thousand rounds
of ammunition, and two millions of musket-cartridges, with a thousand
prisoners, were taken. The casualties on both sides were heavy. The
British lost five hundred killed, two thousand eight hundred wounded;
the Portuguese one hundred and fifty killed, nine hundred wounded; and
the Spaniards eighty-nine of the former, and four hundred and sixty
of the latter. The French loss, of course, was infinitely greater;
and even by their own returns it was admitted to amount to eight
thousand; but, prisoners included, it must have exceeded that number
considerably.[227]
On the morning of the 22nd, the field of battle, and the roads for
some miles in the rear, exhibited an appearance it seldom falls within
human fortune to witness. There, lay the wreck of a mighty army; while
plunder, accumulated during the French successes, and wrung from
every part of Spain with unsparing rapacity, was recklessly abandoned
to any who chose to seize it. Cannon and caissons, carriages and
tumbrels, waggons of every description, were overturned or deserted--
and a stranger _mélange_ could not be imagined, than that which these
enormous convoys presented to the eye. Here, was the personal baggage
of a king; there, the scenery and decorations of a theatre. Munitions
of war were mixed with articles of _virtù_--and scattered arms and
packs, silks, embroidery, plate, and jewels, mingled together in wild
disorder. One waggon was loaded with money, another with cartridges--
while wounded soldiers, deserted women, and children of every age,
every where implored assistance, or threw themselves for protection
on the humanity of the victors. Here, a lady was overtaken in her
carriage--in the next calash was an actress or fille-de-chambre,--
while droves of oxen were roaming over the plain, intermingled with an
endless quantity of sheep and goats, mules and horses, asses and cows.
That much valuable plunder came into the hands of the soldiery
is certain; but the better portion fell to the peasantry and
camp-followers. Two valuable captures were secured--a full military
chest, and the baton[228] of Marshal Jourdan.
Were not the indiscriminating system of spoliation pursued by the
French armies recollected, the enormous collection of plunder abandoned
at Vitoria would appear incredible. From the highest to the lowest, all
were bearing off some valuables from the country they had overrun; and
even the king himself had not proved an exception--for, rolled in the
imperials of his own coach, some of the finest pictures from the royal
galleries were discovered. To secure or facilitate their transport,
they had been removed from their frames, and deposited in the royal
carriage, no doubt, destined to add to the unrivalled collection, that
by similar means had been abstracted from the Continent, and presented
to the Louvre. Wellington, however, interrupted the Spanish paintings
in their transit--and thus saved the trouble and formality of a
restoration.[229]
BATTLES OF THE PYRENEES.
Joseph Buonaparte retreats into France.--Pamplona blockaded, and San
Sebastian besieged.--Battles of the Pyrenees.
The disordered state in which the French army appeared before the
gates of Pamplona, rendered it advisable to forbid them entrance, and
their retreat was necessarily continued. Graham, with the left corps
of the allies, had endeavoured to cut off Foy; but, though he failed
in effecting it, he forced him, after abandoning Tolosa, to cross
the frontier. Hill’s corps followed the French on the Pamplona road;
and another part of his army was detached by Lord Wellington against
Clausel by Logrono, while a second corps moved rapidly on Tudela to
interrupt his retreat. By marching on Zaragossa, Clausel retired into
France by the pass of Jaca; but, in this hasty operation, he lost all
his artillery, and was obliged to abandon a redoubt with its garrison,
which some time afterwards fell into Mina’s hands. Pancorba surrendered
to O’Donel, and Passages to Longa; Castro and Gueteria were evacuated;
and south of the Ebro, every post, one after the other, was yielded to
the Spaniards.
Successes followed the march of the allies. Suchet retired from
Valencia on the 6th of July; and Joseph Buonaparte was driven from the
valley of San Estevan on the 7th by Hill and Lord Dalhousie--the first
marching by the pass of Lanz, while the other turned the right of the
enemy.
Wellington was now in possession of the passes of the Pyrenees; and
in the short space of two months had moved his victorious army across
the kingdom of Spain, and changed his cantonments from the frontier of
Portugal to a position in the Pyrenees, from which he looked down upon
the southern provinces of France.
Napoleon received intelligence of Lord Wellington’s successes with
feelings of undissembled anger and surprise. To recover the line of the
Ebro was his instant determination--for he knew the dangerous effect
the presence of a British army on the frontier of “beautiful France”
must of necessity produce. Marshal Soult was, therefore, specially
despatched from Germany to assume the chief command of the beaten army,
and, if possible, restore its fallen fortunes.[230]
Wellington foresaw the coming storm, and turned his immediate attention
to the reduction of Pamplona and San Sebastian. From the strength of
the former, and the excellent condition of its defences, the allied
commander decided on a blockade; and it was accordingly closely
invested by General Hill. Redoubts were thrown up within fifteen
hundred yards of the place, armed with the cannon taken at Vitoria--
and to the Spanish army under O’Donel the conduct of the blockade was
entrusted.
Graham, with his corps augmented to ten thousand men, was directed to
besiege San Sebastian; and on the 11th of July, he sat down before the
place.
San Sebastian is built on a peninsula, its western defences washed
by the sea, and its eastern by the river Urumea, which at high water
rises several feet above the base of the escarp wall. A bold and rocky
height, called Monte Orgullo, rises at the extreme point of a narrow
neck of land--and on its summit stands the citadel of La Mota.
Eight hundred yards distant from the land-front, the convent of San
Bartolemeo, with a redoubt and circular field-work, were garrisoned.
These advanced posts were strongly fortified--and, as it was
determined to breach the eastern wall and storm it afterwards at low
water, when the receding tide should permit an advance by the left of
the Urumea, it became necessary, as a preliminary step, to dislodge the
enemy from the convent.
On the 14th of July, the guns in battery opened a heavy fire on San
Bartolemeo; and by the next day the walls of the building were injured
considerably. Another battery,[231] erected beyond the Urumea, fired
with equal success upon the bastion; and on the 17th both works were
carried by assault. Batteries, armed with thirty-two siege guns and
howitzers, opened on the town wall from the sandhills; and on the 25th
two breaches were effected, one of thirty yards extent, and the other
of ten. A mine was also driven under the glacis--and at its explosion
was the appointed signal for an assault upon the breaches.[232]
At first the astounding noise distracted the garrison, and enabled
the advance of both storming parties to gain the breaches; but the
French recovered from their panic, and poured such a fire of grape and
musketry on the assailants, that the breach was heaped with dead and
dying, and the allies were driven back to the trenches with a loss of
above six hundred men.--The loss of the British, from the 7th to the
27th of July, amounted to two hundred and four killed, seven hundred
and seventy-four wounded, and three hundred missing.
This severe repulse, added to the certain intelligence that Soult was
preparing to strike a grand blow, induced Lord Wellington to issue
immediate orders to raise the siege.
Circumstances, indeed, rendered that step unavoidable. The French
were already in motion--Soult had forced the passes on the right,
penetrated the valleys of the Pyrenees, and was marching to relieve
Pamplona.
Lord Wellington had a most extensive, and, consequently, a very
difficult position to defend,--his _corps d’armée_ covering an
extent of country extending, from flank to flank, over sixty miles of
mountains, without lateral communications, or the means of holding
a disposable reserve in the rear of passes, all of which must be
defended, as the loss of one would render the defence of the others
unavailing.
After issuing a spirited proclamation[233] to his army, Soult lost
no time in commencing operations. His corps had been organized
anew, strongly reinforced, and strengthened in every arm, and more
particularly in artillery. To relieve Pamplona, it would be necessary
to carry the passes of Maya and Roncesvalles; and accordingly, the
French marshal suddenly assembled the wings of his army and a division
of the centre, at St. Jean Pied de Port; while D’Erlon, with the
remainder of the corps, concentrated at Espaletta.
By feints upon the smaller passes of Espagne and Lereta, D’Erlon masked
his real attempt, which was to be made upon that of Maya, by a mountain
path from Espaletta. From several suspicious appearances an attack was
dreaded by the allies, and some light companies had been ordered up--
and, with the pickets, they were assailed at noon in such force,[234]
that, though supported by the 34th, 50th, and 92nd, they were driven
back on a height communicating with Echalar when, reinforced by
Barnes’s brigade of the seventh division, they succeeded in repulsing
the attack and holding their ground again.[235]
The affair was very sanguinary. One wing of the 92nd was nearly cut to
pieces. All the regiments engaged highly distinguished themselves, and
the 82nd in particular. The allies lost nearly two thousand men, and
four pieces of artillery.
Soult’s advance on Roncesvalles was made in imposing force; but his
movements were foreseen, and the necessary dispositions had been made
for defeating them. General Byng, who commanded, sent Morillo’s Spanish
division to observe the road of Arbaicete, by which the pass of Maya
might have been turned on the right; and descending the heights, placed
his own brigade in a position by which that important road might be
covered more effectually. Soult, however, directed his true attack
upon the left. Cole was overpowered and driven back--but the fusilier
brigade sustained him--and the attack throughout being met with steady
gallantry, was eventually defeated.
On Byng’s division the French marshal directed his next effort; and
with a force so superior, that, though obstinately resisted, it proved
successful, so far as it obliged the weak brigades of the English
general to fall back upon the mountains, and abandon the Arbaicete
road, while Morillo’s Spaniards were driven on the fourth division.
Necessarily the whole fell back at night-fall, and took a position in
front of Zubiri.
Picton’s division united with the fourth next morning, and both fell
leisurely back as the Duke of Dalmatia advanced. Picton continued
retiring on the 27th, and that evening took a position in front of
Pamplona to cover the blockade, General Hill having already fallen back
on Irurita.
Nearly at this time Lord Wellington had come up; putting in motion
the several corps which lay in his route to the scene of action--and
at one end of a mountain village he pencilled a despatch, as a French
detachment had entered by the other.[236] Having despatched the order,
he galloped to the place where Picton’s divisions were drawn up--the
third, on the right, in front of Huarte, and extending to the heights
of Olaz--and the fourth, with Byng’s and Campbell’s brigades, formed
on the left; their right on the road from Roncesvalles to Zubiri, and
the left commanding that from Ostiz to Pamplona. The reserve was formed
of the corps of Morillo and O’Donel--while, on the only ground on
which cavalry could act, the British dragoons were formed under Sir
Stapleton Cotton.
Soult had occupied the high grounds in the front of those held by
the allies--and in the evening he made an effort to possess a hill
occupied by a Portuguese and Spanish brigade on the right of the fourth
division. These troops steadily resisted the attack--and, supported
by a British and Spanish regiment, repulsed the French, until darkness
ended the firing on both sides.
Pack’s division came up on the 28th, and took a position in the
rear of the fourth division, covering the valley of the Lanz. The
village of Sorauren in their front was held by the French; from which,
in considerable force, they moved forward, and attacked the sixth
division. But this movement was exposed to a flanking fire, that
obliged the enemy to retire after suffering a serious loss. On the left
of the division, a regiment of Portuguese caçadores was driven back
by a simultaneous attack--but Ross’s brigade came rapidly forward,
and completely repulsed the French. On the right, a renewed effort
partially succeeded, as the Spanish regiments were deforced; but the
40th came to the charge, and cleared the hill of the enemy.
The French marshal’s efforts had been directed against the whole of the
height held by the fourth division. In almost all he was repelled--but
on the right of the brigade of Ross, Soult was for a time successful--
and Campbell’s Portuguese regiments, unable to bear the furious and
sustained attack, lost ground, and allowed the enemy to establish a
strong body of troops within the allied position. Of necessity, General
Ross, having his flank turned, immediately fell back. Wellington saw
the crisis, and the 27th and 48th were directed to recover the ground
with the bayonet. Ross moved forward in support,--a brilliant and
bloody struggle terminated in the total repulse of the French division,
which with severe loss, was precipitately driven from the height it
had with such difficulty gained. At this period of the fight, Pack’s
brigade advanced up the hill. The French gave up further efforts on the
position,--and a long, sanguinary, and determined contest terminated.
The fourth division in this affair had been most gloriously
distinguished. The bayonet, in every trying exigency, was resorted to--
the charges were frequent--and some regiments, the fusiliers (7th
and 23rd), with the 20th and 40th, repeatedly checked an advance, or
recovered lost ground, by “steel alone.”
Hill’s division had marched by Lanz, and Lord Dalhousie from San
Estevan on Lizasso, and reached it on the 28th--while the seventh
division moved to Marcelain, and covered the Pamplona road. Soult,
failing in his efforts on the front of the position, determined to
attack Hill’s corps, turn the left of the allies, and thus relieve
Pamplona.
D’Erlon had reached Ostiz on the 29th, and Soult detached a division
from his own position to strengthen him. During the night of the 29th,
he crossed the Lanz, and occupied the heights in front of the sixth and
seventh divisions--and withdrawing the corps hitherto posted opposite
the third English division, his left wing closed in on the main
position of the mountain, directly in front of the fourth division.
D’Erlon’s corps, now considerably strengthened, communicated by the
right of the Lanz with the heights occupied by their left.
These dispositions of the French marshal were at once penetrated by
Lord Wellington, and he decided on driving the enemy from the main
position, which, from its importance, was very strongly occupied.
Picton, crossing the heights from which the French corps had been
recently withdrawn, turned the left of their position on the road to
Roncesvalles, while Lord Dalhousie advanced against the heights in
front of the seventh division, and gained their right flank. Pakenham,
with the sixth division, turned the village of Sorauren, and, assisted
by Byng’s brigade, carried that of Ostiz. These flank movements were
executed with admirable rapidity, and enabled Cole, with part of the
fourth division, to assault the front of the enemy’s position. His
attack succeeded. The French gave way,--a noble chain of posts was
forced on every side, as well by the dashing gallantry of the troops as
the excellent dispositions of their leader.
The French had endeavoured to outflank General Hill; but Pringle’s
brigade manœuvred on the heights above the La Zarza road, and as the
enemy extended by the right, they observed a parallel direction. During
these movements front attacks were frequently and furiously made, and
always repulsed by the bayonet. Sir Rowland steadily maintained his
position behind Lizasso, until a strong corps, detached by D’Erlon,
succeeded in filing round the left flank of the British brigades. No
result of any importance ensued--for Hill leisurely retired on a
mountain position at Eguarras, a mile in the rear, and every attempt
made by d’Erlon to dislodge him proved a failure.
That night, Soult, discomfited in his numerous and well-sustained
attacks on every position of the allied lines, fell back, and was
vigorously pursued by his opponent.[237] Two divisions were overtaken
at the pass of Donna Maria, and brought to action. Although most
formidably posted, they were driven from their ground by the second
and seventh divisions--while at another point, Barnes’s brigade made
a daring and successful attack on a corps of much superior strength,
formed in a difficult position.
Wellington continued the pursuit to Irurita, the French retiring
rapidly towards the frontier, from whence they had so confidently
advanced, and on which they were as promptly obliged to recede. In
their retreat through the valley of the Bidassao, the enemy’s loss in
prisoners and baggage was considerable. A large convoy was taken at
Elizondo, and on the night of the 1st of August, the entire of the
French corps were driven from the Spanish territory, and the British
bivouacs once more established on the same ground which they had
occupied previous to the advance of the Duke of Dalmatia.
During the continued series of bold operations, and constant
and sustained attacks, the loss on both sides could not but be
immense.[238] Soult’s amounted to at least eight thousand, and
Wellington’s to eight hundred and eighty-one killed, five thousand five
hundred and ten wounded, and seven hundred and five missing. That the
French marshal was perfectly confident of succeeding, could be inferred
from the tone of his address to the army, and the mass of cavalry
and immense parc of guns,[239] with which he had provided himself,
and which, as they could not be employed in mountain combats, were
evidently designed to assist in future operations that should succeed
his deforcement of the allies from the Pyrenees, and the raising of
the blockade of Pamplona. That garrison had sallied on the 28th and
seized on several batteries; but these were immediately recovered, and
the sortie defeated by the division of Don Carlos. Nothing could have
been more annoying to the French marshal, than that he should have
actually reached within one league of the blockaded fortress, and never
be permitted afterwards to open the slightest communication with its
garrison.
SIEGE OF SAN SEBASTIAN
Mountain bivouacs of the allies.--Siege of San Sebastian
resumed.--Town taken by assault.--Affair of San Marcial.--
Castle invested.--The garrison surrender.--Operations of the
Anglo-Sicilian army.
After the retreat of Soult, the British and their allies resumed the
positions from which they had been dislodged by the advance of the
French marshal, and re-established head-quarters at Lezeca. A short
period of comparative inactivity succeeded: immediate operations could
not be commenced on either side,--the enemy had been too severely
repulsed to permit their becoming assailants again; while, on the other
hand, Wellington would not be justified in crossing the frontier and
entering a hostile country, with Pamplona and San Sebastian in his
rear, and garrisoned by the French.
Nothing could be more magnificent than the positions of the British
brigades.[240] For many a mile along the extended line of occupation,
huts crowning the heights or studding the deep valleys below
them, showed the rude dwellings of the mighty mass of human beings
collected in that Alpine country. At night the scene was still more
picturesque. The irregular surface of the sierras sparkled with a
thousand watch-fires, and the bivouacs of the allies exhibited all the
varieties of light and shadow which an artist loves to copy. To the
occupants themselves, the views obtained from their elevated abodes
were grand and imposing. One while obscured in fog, the hum of voices
alone announced that their comrades were beside them, while at another,
the sun bursting forth in cloudless beauty, displayed a varied scene,
glorious beyond imagination. At their feet the fertile plains of France
presented themselves,--above, ranges of magnificent heights towered in
majestic grandeur to the skies, and stretched into distance beyond the
range of sight.[241]
Although no military movements were made, this inactive interval of a
vigorous campaign was usefully employed by the allied commander, in
organizing anew the regiments that had suffered most, concentrating
the divisions, replacing exhausted stores, and perfecting the whole
_matériel_ of the army. Those of the British near the coast, compared
with the corps that were blockading Pamplona, lived comfortably in
their mountain bivouacs; indeed, the task of covering a blockade is the
most disagreeable that falls to the soldier’s lot. Exposed to cold and
rain, continually on the alert, and yet engaged in a duty devoid of
enterprise and interest, nothing could be more wearying to the troops
employed; and desertions, which during active service were infrequent,
now became numerous, and especially among the Spaniards and Irish.
The siege of San Sebastian was renewed. Guns, formerly employed, were
re-landed,--the trenches occupied again,--and a large supply of heavy
ordnance and mortars, received opportunely from England, were placed
in battery. Lord Wellington was reinforced by a company of sappers and
miners--and the navy, under Sir George Collier, assisted him with both
men and guns.[242] The batteries were consequently enlarged--and
a furious sortie by the garrison on the night of the 24th producing
little effect, on the 26th a crushing fire opened from fifty-seven
pieces of siege artillery.
On the same night the island of Santa Clara, situated at the entrance
of the harbour, and partially enfilading the defences of the castle,
was surprised and stormed by a mixed party of sailors and soldiers,
and its garrison made prisoners. On the 27th, a second sortie on the
whole front of the isthmus failed entirely, and the assailants were
instantly driven back. The siege and working artillery[243] had been
now augmented to eighty pieces--and on the 30th the breaches were so
extensively battered down, that Lord Wellington issued orders that
they should be assaulted, and the next morning was named for the
attempt.[244]
In the annals of modern warfare, perhaps there is no conflict recorded
which was so sanguinary and so desperate as the storming of that
well-defended breach. During the blockade, every resource of military
ingenuity was tried by the French governor--and the failure of the
first assault, with the subsequent raising of the siege, emboldened the
garrison, and rendered them the more confident of holding out until
Soult could advance and succour them. The time from which the battering
guns had been withdrawn, until they had been again placed in battery,
was assiduously employed in constructing new defences and strengthening
the old ones. But though the place when reinvested was more formidable
than before, the besiegers appeared only the more determined to reduce
it.[245]
Morning broke gloomily--an intense mist obscured every object,
and the work of slaughter was for a time delayed. At nine the
sea-breeze cleared away the fog; the sun shone gloriously out--and
in two hours the forlorn hope issued from the trenches. The columns
succeeded,[246]--and every gun from the fortress that could bear,
opened on them with shot and shells. The appearance of the breach was
perfectly delusive; nothing living could reach the summit--no courage,
however desperate, could overcome the difficulties, for they were alike
unexpected and insurmountable. In vain the officers rushed forward,
and devotedly were they followed by their men. From intrenched houses
behind the breach, the traverses, and the ramparts of the curtain, a
withering discharge of musketry was poured on the assailants, while the
Mirador and Prince batteries swept the approaches with their guns. To
survive this concentrated fire was impossible; the forlorn hope were
cut off to a man, and the heads of the columns annihilated. At last the
debouches were choked with the dead and wounded, and a further passage
to the breach rendered impracticable from the heap of corpses that were
piled upon each other.[247]
Then, in that desperate moment, when hope might have been supposed to
be over, an expedient unparalleled in the records of war was resorted
to. The British batteries opened on the curtain--and the storming
parties heard with surprise the roar of cannon in the rear, while, but
a few feet above their heads, their iron shower hissed horribly, and
swept away the enemy and their defences.
This was the moment for a fresh effort. Another brigade was moved
forward--and favoured by an accidental explosion upon the curtain,
which confused the enemy while it encouraged the assailants, the
_terre-plain_ was mounted, and the French driven from the works. A
long and obstinate resistance was continued in the streets, which were
in many places barricaded--but by five in the evening opposition
had ceased, and the town was in the possession of the British. Seven
hundred of the garrison were prisoners--and the remainder were either
disabled in the assault or shut up in the castle.
The unfortunate town seemed alike devoted by friends and enemies to
destruction. The conquerors were roaming through the streets--the
castle firing on the houses beneath its guns--in many places fires had
broken out--and a storm of thunder, rain, and lightning, added to the
confusion of a scene which even in warfare finds no parallel.[248]
The assault of San Sebastian cost a large expense of life, there being
seven hundred and sixty-one killed, one thousand six hundred and
ninety-seven wounded, and forty-five missing, and in that number many
valuable officers were included. The head of the engineer department,
Sir Richard Fletcher, was killed--and Generals Leith,[249] Oswald, and
Robinson were returned in the list of wounded.
The Spanish corps of Friere formed a part of the covering army, and
occupied the heights of San Marcial. Their front and left flank were
covered by the Bidassao, and their right appuied upon the Sierra de
Haya. On these heights Longa’s guerillas were posted, and the first
division in rear of Irun. The reserve was behind the left.
The French shewed themselves at Yera on the 30th, and in consequence,
Generals Inglis and Ross were moved, the former to the bridge of
Lezeca, and the latter to a position on the Haya mountain, while a
Portuguese brigade secured it from being turned on the right.
Two of the enemy’s divisions forded the river on the morning of the
31st, and, in the front of the Spanish left wing, mounted the heights
with determined gallantry. On this occasion the Spaniards behaved with
courage worthy of their once chivalric name. Coolly waiting until the
French divisions had topped the heights, they rushed forward with the
bayonet, and bore them down the hill. So completely were they broken by
this sudden and unexpected charge, that driven into the river by the
impetuosity of their assailants, many missed the fords and perished.
Undismayed by the repulse, a pontoon bridge was thrown across the
Bidassao--and passing fourteen thousand men, the French advanced again
with renewed confidence against the Spanish lines. Wellington, in
person, was present on the hill--his appearance was enthusiastically
hailed--and deeds afterwards attested how powerful the influence
of that presence proved. Before the French could gain the summit,
the Spanish battalions boldly advanced to meet them--a bayonet rush
was made--the enemy recoiled--the allies pressed them closely--a
panic resulted--some rushed into the deeps of the Bidassao, and were
drowned; others succeeded in finding the fords and escaped. A multitude
hurried towards the bridge, but it was soon choked with fugitives--
the pressure became too heavy for the pontoons to support--it sank
suddenly--and of those upon it at the moment, few gained the other
bank.
A renewed discomfiture, attended with such fatal consequences,
and achieved by troops they had hitherto despised, astonished and
chagrined the French officers; while the allied leader, surprised
by this brilliant display of unwonted heroism, bestowed his highest
commendation on the Spanish troops.
A simultaneous attack was made on the road leading to San Sebastian
by the right of the Haya mountain, which runs past the village of
Oyarzum. As the position was defective, the Portuguese brigade, which
with Inglis’s corps had been intrusted with its defence, fell back on
the bold and rocky ridge on which stands the convent of San Antonio.
Here, too, the French efforts were unavailing, and the enemy retired
in despair. In the mean time heavy rains had caused a mountain flood--
the river became impassable, the fords could not be crossed, and the
bridge of Vera offered the only point by which they could retreat. That
passage could not be effected with rapidity--and before one half of
the French column had defiled, the light divisions were on the banks,
and had opened a severe and constant fire. This, with other losses,
made the effort to relieve San Sebastian a most infelicitous attempt.
Two generals and fifteen hundred men were lost on these occasions--and
that, too, by a signal repulse from a force invariably mentioned by the
French marshals as contemptible.
Vigorous measures were in preparation for the reduction of the castle
of San Sebastian. From the height of its escarp, and the solidity of
the masonry, La Mota could not be assaulted with any certainty of
success--and a regular investment was requisite to obtain the place.
On the 1st of September the mortar-batteries commenced throwing
shells;[250] and as the castle was indifferently provided with
bomb-proof casemates, a considerable loss induced the governor[251] to
offer a capitulation, but the terms were not such as could be granted.
Batteries with heavy ordnance were erected on the works of the town,
and on the 8th opened with such terrible effect, that in two hours the
place was unconditionally surrendered.[252] The garrison amounted to
eighteen hundred men, of whom nearly a third were disabled.[253]
San Sebastian was held to the last with excellent judgment and
dauntless gallantry. Indeed, the loss of the besiegers bore melancholy
confirmation of the fact,--for the reduction of that fortress cost the
allies nearly four thousand men.
* * * * *
Before we record the triumphant entrance into the French territory
by the allied troops, it may be necessary to casually notice the
proceedings of the Anglo-Sicilian army in the east of Spain.
Lord Wellington had arranged, as a part of the military operations of
the brilliant campaign of 1813, the liberation of Valencia, by forcing
Suchet from that province, and obliging him to abandon afterwards the
line of the Lower Ebro. This was perfectly practicable. The Spanish
commanders were in force in Catalonia,--Del Parque in Murcia and
Grenada,--the coast was open to the English shipping--and Sir John
Murray could embark at Alicant, and land his army on any part of
Catalonia that he pleased.
In pursuance of this plan, Sir John Murray appeared before Tarragona
on the 2nd of June, landed next morning, and invested the place.
His opening operations were successful. Fort Balaguer, after a
day’s bombardment, surrendered; and the French were confined to the
possession of the inner defences of the town.
The siege was proceeding with every promise of a successful result,
when Murray, learning that Suchet was advancing from Valencia, and
Mathieu from Barcelona, raised it with such unnecessary precipitation,
that nineteen battering guns were abandoned in the trenches, and the
infantry and cavalry reimbarked with an ill-judged haste, that at the
time not only produced considerable dissatisfaction among the troops,
but afterwards subjected Sir John Murray to a court-martial. That it
was a most uncalled for proceeding on the part of the English general
was subsequently ascertained,--for, and at the same moment, Murray,
Suchet, and Mathieu were actually retiring from each other.[254] Murray
suspected that he should be exposed to a combined attack--Mathieu
dared not venture singly on the English--and Suchet, having left his
artillery at Tortosa, feared to attack while unprovided with that most
essential arm.
Lord William Bentinck’s subsequent attempt on Tarragona, when Suchet
retreated from the Ebro into Catalonia, was equally unsuccessful.
Having moved from Villa Franca and advanced across to Ordal, on the
night of the 12th of September, he was furiously attacked, and driven
back on the main body, with a loss of four guns, and a thousand men
_hors de combat_. The British retreated, pursued by Suchet and Decaen;
and, after an affair between the Brunswick hussars and a French
cuirassier regiment, highly creditable to the former, the English
returned to Tarragona, and the French to their cantonments on the
Llobregat. Lord William resigned the command to General Clinton, and
resumed that which he had previously held in Sicily.
PASSAGE OF THE BIDASSAO.
Passage of the Bidassao.--Fall of Pamplona.
The capture of San Sebastian permitted the allied leader to prepare for
a decisive movement so soon as the reduction of Pamplona should warrant
his advance across the frontier. The enemy were strongly posted on the
right bank of the Bidassao,[255] in front of Vera--and preparatory to
assuming the offensive, Wellington determined to force that position
and occupy it himself.
Every arrangement was made with his habitual secrecy. The fords were
sounded and marked by fishermen, who created no suspicion, as, to all
appearance, they were following their customary avocation, and hence
their proceedings were unnoticed by the French videts. All was prepared
for the attempt--and at midnight, on the 6th of October, the British
divisions got silently under arms. A storm was raging furiously--
thunder was pealing round them--lightning, in quick and vivid flashes,
flared across the murky sky--the elemental uproar was reverberated
among the alpine heights above--and a wilder night was never chosen
for a military operation. Gradually the tempest exhausted its fury--
the wind fell--the rain ceased--an overwhelming heat succeeded--
and when the morning broke, the leading brigades, at seven different
points, plunged into the Bidassao; while a rocket rose from the ancient
steeple of Fontarabia, and the signal was answered from the heights by
a combined movement of all the divisions there drawn up in order of
battle.
Perfect success crowned this daring essay. The leading columns were
nearly across the river before the French fire opened. Ground,
difficult and broken in itself, had been carefully strengthened with
numerous field-works; but all gave way before the desperate valour
of the assailants. The light division, with the Spaniards under
Longa,[256] carried the intrenched position of Puerto-de-Vera. Redoubt
and abbatis were stoutly defended; but from all, in quick succession,
the enemy was driven at the point of the bayonet. Night fell--the
attack had everywhere succeeded--and the victors bivouacked on the
field they won; and, for the first time, the allied forces slept upon
French ground.
Here the British commander established himself, and awaited the fall
of Pamplona, which Soult’s repeated defeats rendered inevitable.
The garrison still obstinately held out: and when their provisions
were nearly exhausted, it was rumoured that they intended, rather
than surrender, to blow up the works, and take their chance of
escaping.[257] But an assurance from the Spanish commander, Don Carlos,
that, should the place be destroyed, he would hang the governor and
officers, and decimate the men, prevented the attempt; and, on the
30th of October, the garrison yielded themselves prisoners of war, and
the place surrendered.
Winter had now set in, and a season of unusual severity commenced. The
allies were sadly exposed to the weather, and an increasing difficulty
was felt every day in procuring necessary supplies. Forage became so
scarce, that part of the cavalry had nothing for their horses but
grass; while the cattle for the soldiers’ rations, driven sometimes
from the interior of Spain, perished in immense numbers by the way, or
reached the camp so wretchedly reduced in condition as to be little
better than carrion. Resources from the sea could not be trusted to;
for in blowing weather the coast was scarcely approachable, and even in
the sheltered harbour of Passages, the transports could with difficulty
ride to their moorings, in consequence of the heavy swell that tumbled
in from the Atlantic. The cold became intense,--sentries were frozen
at their posts,--and a picket at Roncesvalles, regularly snowed up,
was saved with great difficulty. All this plainly shewed that the
present position of the allies was not tenable much longer, and that a
forward movement into France was unavoidable.[258]
But great difficulties in advancing presented themselves; and, all
things considered, success was a matter of uncertainty. Soult’s army
had been powerfully reinforced by the last conscription; and for three
months the French marshal had been indefatigable in fortifying the
whole line of his position, and strengthening his defences, wherever
the ground would admit an enemy to approach. The field-works extended
from the sea to the river, as the right rested on St. Jean-de-Luz,
and the left on the Nivelle. The centre was at Mont La Rhune and the
heights of Sarré. The whole position passed in a half-circle through
Irogne, Ascain, Sarré, Ainhoue, and Espelette. Though the centre was
commanded by a higher ridge, a narrow valley interposed between them.
The entire front was covered with works, and the sierras defended by a
chain of redoubts. The centre was particularly strong--in fact, it was
a work regularly ditched and palisaded.
To turn the position, by advancing Hill’s corps through St. Jean
Pied-de-Port, was first determined on; but, on consideration, this
plan of operations was abandoned,--and, strong as the centre was, the
allied leader resolved that on it his attack should be directed, while
the heights of Ainhoue, which formed its support, should, if possible,
be simultaneously carried.
A commander less nerved than Lord Wellington, would have lacked
resolution for this bold and masterly operation. Everything was against
him, and every chance favoured the enemy. The weather was dreadful--the
rain fell in torrents,--and while no army could move, the French had
the advantage of the delay to complete the defences of a position which
was already deemed perfect as art and nature could render it. Nor did
their powerful works produce in the enemy a false security. Aware of
the man and the troops which threatened them--they were always ready
for an attack--and their outpost duty was rigidly attended to. Before
day their corps were under arms--and the whole line of defences
continued fully garrisoned until night permitted the troops to be
withdrawn.
At last the weather moderated. On the 7th, Ainhoue was reconnoitred by
Wellington in person, and the plan of the attack arranged. No operation
could be more plain or straightforward. The centre was to be carried
by columns of divisions, and the right centre turned. To all the corps
their respective points of attack were assigned,--while to the light
division and Longa’s Spaniards the storming of La Petite Rhune was
confided. The latter were to be supported by Alten’s cavalry, three
brigades of British artillery, and three mountain guns.[259]
The 8th had been named for the attack--but the roads were so
dreadfully cut up, that neither the artillery nor Hill’s brigade
could get into position, and it was postponed for two days longer--
when the 10th dawned, a clear and moonlight morning. Long before day,
Lord Wellington, and several of the generals of division and brigade
with their respective staffs, had assembled in a small wood, five
hundred yards from the redoubt above the village of Sarré, waiting for
sufficient light to commence the arranged attack.
Nothing could exceed the courage and rapidity with which the troops
rushed on, and overcame every artificial and natural obstacle. The 3rd
and 7th advanced in front of the village--Downie’s Spanish brigade
attacked the right--while the left was turned by Cole’s, and the whole
of the first line of defences remained in possession of the allies.
On this glorious occasion, the light division was preeminently
distinguished. By moonlight it moved from the greater La Rhune, and
formed in a ravine which separates the bolder from the lesser height.
This latter was occupied in force by the enemy, and covered on every
assailable point with intrenchments. As morning broke, the British
light troops rushed from the hollow which had concealed them. To
withstand their assault was impossible--work after work was stormed;
forward they went with irresistible bravery, and on the summit of the
hill united themselves with Cole’s division, and then pushed on against
the intrenched heights behind, which formed the strongest part of
the position. Here, a momentary check arrested their progress--the
supporting force (Spanish) were too slow, and the ground too rugged for
the horse artillery to get over it at speed. The rifles were attacked
in turn, and for a moment driven back by a mass of the enemy. But the
reserve came up; and again the light troops rushed forward--the French
gave way--and the whole of the lower ridge was left in possession of
the assailants.
For four hours the combat had raged, and on every point the British
were victorious. A more formidable position still remained behind--and
Wellington combined his efforts for a vigorous and general attack.
This mountain position extended from Mondarin to Ascain--and a long
valley, through which the Nivelle flows, traversed it; where the
surface was unequal, the higher points were crowned with redoubts,
and the spaces of leveller surface occupied by the French in line or
column, as the nature of the ground best admitted. Men inclined to
fight never had a field that offered so many advantages; and there were
none, save the British leader and the splendid army he commanded, who
would have ventured to assault equal numbers posted as the enemy were.
The dispositions were soon complete--the word was given--and in six
columns, with a chain of skirmishers in front, the allies advanced to
the attack.
To carry a strong work, or assail a body of infantry in close column,
placed on the crest of an acclivity that requires the attacking force
to halt frequently for breathing-time, requires a desperate and
enduring valour which few armies can boast--but such bravery on that
occasion characterised the allied divisions. Masses posted on a steep
height were forced from it by the bayonet, though hand and foot were
often required to enable the assaulting party to reach them. Redoubts
were carried at a run, or so rapidly turned by the different brigades,
that the defenders had scarcely time to escape by the rear. Nothing
could resist the dash and intrepidity of the British; and over the
whole extent of that formidable position, on no point did the attack
fail.
The French were driven from their works, and forced in great confusion
on the bridge of the Nivelle. One redoubt, from its superior strength,
had been obstinately maintained--but the regiment that occupied it was
completely cut off from retreating, and the whole were made prisoners.
In every other point the British attack succeeded. Hill’s division
carried the heights of Ainhoue, the whole of the redoubts falling to
the British and Portuguese under Hamilton; while Stewart drove the
enemy from a parallel ridge in the rear--and the divisions, by an
united attack, forcing the enemy from their works at Espelette, obliged
them to retire towards Cambo,--thus gaining the rear of the position
originally occupied, and forcing Soult’s centre on his right.
The French marshal formed in great force on the high grounds over
Ascain and St. Pe, and Lord Wellington made instant dispositions to
attack him. Three divisions, the third, sixth, and seventh, advanced
against the heights--two by the left of the Nivelle, and one, the
sixth, by the right bank. As the position was exceedingly strong, the
enemy determined to hold it to the last, and maintained a furious
cannonade, supported by a heavy fire of musketry. But the steady and
imposing advance of the allies could not be repelled--and the French
retired hastily. The right of the position was thus entirely cut
through--and though for months the Duke of Dalmatia had been arming
every vulnerable point, and his engineers had used their utmost skill
in perfecting its defences, the British commander’s dispositions were
so admirably made and so gallantly carried out, that his numerous and
most difficult attacks were crowned with brilliant success, unalloyed
by a single failure.
Night ended the battle,--the firing ceased--Soult retreated and,
covered by the darkness, withdrew a beaten army, that had numbered
fully seventy thousand men. His killed and wounded exceeded three
thousand, besides a loss of fifty guns, and twelve hundred prisoners.
The allies reckoned their casualties at two thousand four hundred
killed and wounded; which, the nature of the ground, the strength of
its defences, and the _corps d’armée_ that held it, considered, was
indeed a loss comparatively light.
PASSAGE OF THE ADOUR.
French and English positions.--Wellington advances.--The left wing
of the allies attacked.--Soult defeated.--The French marshal
attacks the right, and is severely repulsed by General Hill.--Sir
Rowland drives the French from their position, and Soult retires
within his lines.--Defection of German regiments, who come over to
the allies.
Soult halted his different corps in the intrenched camp of Bayonne,
and Wellington cantoned his troops two miles in front of his opponent,
in lines extending from the sea to the Nivelle, his right stretching
to Cambo and his left resting on the coast. This change in his
cantonments was productive of serious advantages. His wearied soldiery
obtained rest and many comforts which in their mountain bivouacs were
unattainable; and though the enemy possessed unlimited command of a
well-supplied district for their foraging parties, and the surface
over which Lord Wellington might obtain supplies was necessarily
circumscribed, his direct communication with the sea, and a month’s
rest in tolerable quarters, recruited his exhausted army and produced
the best results.[260]
But Wellington merely waited to mature his preparations--and, to
extend his line of supply, he determined to seize the strong ground
between the Nive and the Adour, and confine Soult to the immediate
vicinity of his own camp. Accordingly on the 9th of December, the left
wing of the allies, advancing by the road of St. Jean de Luz, gained
the heights domineering the intrenchments of the French. The right
forded the Nive above Cambo--while, by a bridge of boats, Clinton
crossed at Nostariz, and obliged the enemy, to avoid being cut off,
to fall back on Bayonne. At night, the French having retired to their
posts within the fortified position they had occupied, Hope, with the
left of the allies, recrossed the river to his former cantonments,
having a direct communication open with Sir Rowland Hill, who had
taken a position with his division, his right on the Adour, his centre
in the village of St. Pierre, and his left appuied on the heights of
Ville Franque. Morillo’s division was in observation at Urcuray, and a
cavalry corps at Hasparren.
The relative positions of the rival armies were greatly different.
Soult possessed immense advantages; his _corps d’armée_ were compactly
bivouacked, with easy communications, every facility for rapid
concentration, and the citadel of Bayonne to protect him if he found
it necessary to fall back. The allies extended over an irregular line
intersected by the Nive, with bad roads, that rendered any rapid
reinforcement of a threatened point altogether impracticable. Hence,
Wellington was everywhere open to attack--and Soult could fall on him
with overwhelming numbers and force an unequal combat, while but a part
of the allies should be opposed to the combined efforts of the enemy.
The French marshal was aware of this--and it was not long before he
endeavoured to profit by his advantage.
The left of the allies, under Sir John Hope, had the fifth division
(Hay’s) posted on the heights of Barouillet, with Campbell’s Portuguese
brigade on a narrow ridge immediately in their front. At Arrangues,
the light division was formed on a strong height, at a distance of two
miles from the fifth.
The positions were separated by the low grounds between the hills, and
the corps were consequently unconnected. Although both were strongly
posted, still, in case of an attack, each must trust entirely to his
own resources, and repulse the enemy without counting on support from
the other.
Early on the 10th of December, Soult appeared on the road of St.
Jean de Luz, and in great force marched directly against the allied
left. The light and fifth divisions were simultaneously assailed--
the former driven back into its intrenchments, and Campbell’s brigade
forced back upon Hay’s at Barouillet. The intermediate ground between
the allied positions was now in the possession of the enemy, and
thus Soult was enabled to attack the right of the fifth with vigour.
Although assailed in front and flank, the allied division gallantly
withstood the assault; and when the position was completely penetrated,
and the orchard on the right forced and occupied by the French with
overwhelming numbers, still the British and Portuguese held the
heights, and, while whole sections fell, not an inch of ground was
yielded.
Another and a more determined effort was now made by the French
marshal, and made in vain--for by a bold and well-timed movement of
the 9th British and a Portuguese battalion, wheeling round suddenly and
charging the French rear, the enemy were driven back with the loss of
a number of prisoners. Fresh troops were fast arriving--the guards
came into action--and Lord Wellington reached the battle-ground from
the right. But the French had been repulsed in their last attempt so
decisively that they did not venture to repeat it--evening closed--
the firing gradually died away--and the allied divisions held the same
positions from which Soult, with an immense numerical superiority in
men and guns, had vainly striven to force them.
The slaughter was great on both sides--and, wearied by long sustained
exertion, and weakened by its heavy loss, the fifth division was
relieved by the first, who occupied the post their comrades had
maintained so gloriously. The fourth and seventh were placed in
reserve, and enabled, in case of attack, to assist on either point,
should Soult, on the following morning, as was expected, again attempt
to make himself master of Barouillet.
Nothing could surpass the reckless gallantry displayed by the British
officers throughout this long and sanguinary struggle. Sir John Hope,
with his staff, was always seen where the contest was most furious;
and the only wonder was that in a combat so close and murderous, one
remarkable alike in personal appearance and “daring deed,” should have
outlived that desperate day. His escapes indeed were many. He was
wounded in the leg--contused in the shoulder--four musket-bullets
passed through his hat, and he lost two horses. General Robinson, in
command of the second brigade, was badly wounded--and Wellington
himself was constantly exposed to fire. Unable to determine where the
grand effort of his adversary would be directed, he passed repeatedly
from one point of the position to the other--and that life, so
valuable to all beside, seemed “of light estimation” to himself alone.
The next sun rose to witness a renewal of the contest. In their attack
upon the light division at Arrangues, the French, driven from the
defended posts the château and churchyard afforded, retired to the
plateau of Bassusarry, and there established themselves for the night.
During the forenoon some slight affairs between the pickets occurred;
but at noon, the fusilade having ceased, the allies collected wood,
lighted fires, and cooked their dinners. At two, a considerable
stir was visible in the enemy’s line, and their pioneers were seen
cutting down the fence for the passage of artillery. Soult’s first
demonstration of attack was made against Arrangues; but that was only
to mask his real object. Presently his tirailleurs swarmed out in front
of Barouillet, attacked the British outposts, drove the pickets back,
and moving in strong columns by the Bayonne road, furiously assailed
the heights of the position. The wood-cutters, surprised by the sudden
onset of the French, hurried back to resume their arms and join their
regiments; while the enemy, mistaking the cause of this rush to their
alarm posts, supposed a panic had seized the troops, and pressed
forward with increased impetuosity. But the same results attended their
attempt upon the first as on the fifth division; and the French were
driven back with heavy loss. In the contests of two days not an inch of
ground was yielded--and the left wing of the allies remained firm in
its position, when night brought the combat to a close.
During the 12th, Soult still continued in front of the heights of
Barouillet, and preserved throughout the day a threatening attitude.
No serious attack, however, was made; some sharp skirmishing occurred
between the pickets, and darkness ended these occasional affairs.
The grand object of the French marshal in his sustained attacks upon
the allied left, was to force the position and penetrate to St. Jean
de Luz. Although so severely handled in his attempts upon the 10th
and 11th, the bustle visible along his line, and the activity of the
officers of his staff during the morning of the 12th, shewed that
he still meditated a fresh effort. The imposing appearance of the
allied troops on the heights of Barouillet induced him to change his
intention; and he made arrangements to throw his whole disposable force
suddenly upon the right wing of the British, and attack Sir Rowland
Hill with overwhelming numbers.
This probable attack had been foreseen by Lord Wellington--and,
with his accustomed caution, means had been adopted to render it
unsuccessful. In the event of assistance being required, the sixth
division was placed at Hill’s disposal; and early on the morning of
the 13th, the third and fourth divisions moved towards the right of
the allied lines, and were held in readiness to pass the river should
circumstances demand it. As Lord Wellington had anticipated, Soult
marched his main body through Bayonne during the night of the 12th, and
at daylight, pushing forward thirty thousand men in columns of great
strength, attacked furiously the right wing of the allies.
Hill had only fourteen thousand British and Portuguese to repel the
French marshal’s assault, but the ground he occupied was capable of
being vigorously defended. On the right, General Byng’s brigade was
formed in front of the Vieux Monguerre--occupying a ridge, with the
Adour upon the right, and the left flanked by several mill-dams.
General Pringle held the ridge of Ville Franque with his brigade; the
Nive ran in front of his left, and his right also appuied on several
mill-dams. The brigades of Generals Barnes and Ashworth were posted
on a range of heights opposite the village of St. Pierre--while two
Portuguese brigades were formed in reserve immediately behind Ville
Franque. The general form of the line nearly described a crescent--
and against its concave side, the efforts of the French marshal were
principally directed. The position extended from the Adour to the Nive,
occupying a space, from right to left, of four miles.
The outposts stationed on the road from Bayonne to St. Jean Pied de
Port were driven back by the enemy’s tirailleurs, followed by the main
body of the French, who mounted the sloping ground in front of the
British position[261]--and supported by another division, which moved
by a hollow way between the left centre and Pringle’s brigade, they
came forward in massive columns. Sir Rowland Hill at once perceived
that Soult’s design was to force his centre, and carry the heights of
St. Pierre. To strengthen that part of the position, the brigade of
General Byng was promptly moved to the right of the centre, leaving the
third (Buffs) regiment and some light companies at Vieux Monguerre--
while a Portuguese brigade was marched from behind Ville Franque to
support the left. The sixth division was apprised of the threatened
attack, and an aide-de-camp was despatched to order its immediate march
upon the centre.
The French came on with all the confidence of superior strength, and
a full determination to break through the British position, and thus
achieve upon the right that object which they had essayed upon the
left, and twice in vain. Exposed to a tremendous fire of grape from the
British guns, and a withering fusilade from the light infantry, they
pressed steadily on, and, by strength of numbers, succeeded in gaining
ground in front of the heights. But further they never could attain,
as the supporting brigades joined on either flank, and every continued
essay to force the centre was repulsed. A long and bloody combat, when
renewed, produced no happier result, for the allies obstinately held
their position. The Buffs and light companies, who had been forced by
an overwhelming superiority to retire for a time from Vieux Monguerre,
re-formed, charged into the village, and won it back at the point of
the bayonet--when, after exhausting his whole strength in hopeless
efforts to break the British line, Soult abandoned the attack, and
reluctantly gave the order to fall back.
Not satisfied with repelling the enemy’s attack, Hill in turn became
the assailant, and boldly pursued the broken columns as they retired
from the front of the position. On a high ground in advance of his
intrenched lines, Soult drew up in force, and determined to fall back
no further. The hill was instantly assaulted by Byng’s brigade, led on
by the general in person. Unchecked by a storm of grape and a heavy
fire of musketry, the British, reinforced by a Portuguese brigade,
carried the height, and the French were beaten from a strong position
with a serious loss in men, and the capture of two pieces of cannon.
The third and sixth divisions came up as quickly as distance and
difficult roads would permit--but the contest was ended; and
Hill,[262] unassisted by any supporting troops, had, with his own
corps, achieved a complete and glorious victory. Every effort,
continued with unabated vigour for five hours, and with decided
advantages on his side, had signally failed--and the Duke of Dalmatia
was forced again to retire within his fortified lines between the Nive
and the Adour, while the allies pushed their advanced posts to the
verge of the valley immediately in front of St. Pierre.
In these continued actions the loss on both sides was immense. In the
casualties of the 9th, 10th, 11th, 12th, and 13th of December, the
total, including four generals, amounted to five thousand and sixty-one
_hors de combat_.
The French loss was infinitely greater--it is but a moderate estimate
to place it at six thousand men. Indeed, no contests, sanguinary as
most of them had been during the Peninsular campaigns, were attended
with greater loss of life--and those well accustomed to view a
battle-field expressed astonishment at the slaughter the limited spaces
on which the repeated struggles had occurred exhibited at the close of
every succeeding engagement.
Soult, defeated in the presence of thousands of his countrymen, and
with every advantage locality could confer, had no apology to offer
for the failure of his attacks--and if any additional mortification
were necessary, the defection of the regiments of Nassau-Usingen and
Frankfort would have completed it. After the first attempt upon the
allied left, these regiments abandoned the service of Napoleon; and, on
an assurance of their being sent home, they came over in a body to the
fourth division.[263]
The winter had now set in with severity, and ended all military
movements for a season.[264] The roads were impassable from constant
rain, and the low grounds heavily flooded. The French took up
cantonments on the right bank of the Adour; while the allies occupied
the country between the left of that river and the sea. Every means
were employed to render the troops comfortable in their winter
quarters--and to guard against surprise, telegraphs were erected
in communication with every post, which, by a simple combination of
flags, transmitted intelligence along the line of the cantonments, and
apprised the detached officers of the earliest movement of the enemy.
Abundant supplies, and the advantage of an open communication with
England, enabled the army to recruit its strength[265]--and, with
occasional interruptions of its quiet, the year 1813 passed away--and
another, “big with the fate of empires,” was ushered in.
BATTLE OF ORTHEZ.
Weather changes.--Operations recommence.--Harispe driven from his
position by Wellington. Preparations for passing the Adour.--
Guards and Rifles cross over--are attacked, but maintain their
ground until reinforced.--Soult takes a position at Orthez.
The intrenchments into which Soult, on the failure of his attempts upon
the allied positions, had withdrawn his troops, covered the approach to
Bayonne on the side opposite to Anglet, retaining, however, the village
and the range of heights from the Biarits to the Nive. This strong camp
rested its left flank on the river, below the Château de Marrac and its
walled gardens--the whole position forming the segment of a circle, of
which the cathedral of Bayonne might have been considered a centre, the
extension being from the Nive to the Adour, opposite the Château de St.
Bernard.
Soult prolonged his line to the confluence of the Bidouse below Guiche,
and established his head-quarters at Peyrehorade, at the junction of
the Gave de Pau with the Gave d’Oleron. The right of the French army
was commanded by Count Reille, the left by Clausel, the centre by
D’Erlon, and a division at St. Jean Pied de Port by Harispe.
Six weeks passed on. The weather was too inclement to allow movements
to be made on either side--and the French marshal was occupied in
defending his extensive lines, and the allied general in preparing
secretly for passing the Adour.[266]
In February the weather changed--the cross roads became practicable--
and Lord Wellington with his characteristic promptness, commenced
preparatory movements for the execution of his grand conception.
To distract the attention of Soult from the defence of the Adour,
Wellington threatened the French left on the Bidouse, and directed
Hill’s corps against that of Harispe. The latter, leaving St. Jean Pied
de Port garrisoned, fell back on Hellete; retiring subsequently on
the heights of La Montagne, and next day uniting with another corps.
Thus strengthened, Harispe formed in order of battle on a very strong
position to the right of Garris.
The road, however, communicating with the bridge of St. Palais was
uncovered--and though evening had come on, and the second division,
with a Spanish corps under Morillo, were alone in hand, Lord Wellington
determined to force the position. The Spaniards were desired to march
rapidly on St. Palais, while, with Stewart’s division, the heights
should be carried. The attack was gallantly made, the enemy offered a
brave resistance,--but the position was stormed in fine style, and
held against every effort the French could make for its recovery. The
contest continued until darkness had shrouded distant objects, while
the battalions still fought with such furious obstinacy, that volleys
were interchanged within pistol range, and the bayonet frequently
resorted to. Finding it impossible to force those enduring troops from
the ground they seemed determined upon keeping, Harispe, before Morillo
could seize the bridge, succeeded in retiring his beaten corps. Falling
back upon the Gave de Mauleon, he destroyed the bridge of Navarette;
but the river was forded by the British, Harispe’s position forced, and
his division driven behind Gave d’Oleron.
Soult instantly destroyed the communications, and rendered the bridges
over the Adour impassable. The centre of the allies being now in force
on the Bidouse, and concentrating on Sauveterre, the French marshal
retired from Bayonne, leaving a powerful garrison behind him for the
protection of that important city.
All necessary preparations for the passage of the Adour had been
completed, and from the co-operation of the British navy much
assistance was expected. That hope was fully realized; and the noble
exertions of the English sailors on the eastern coast of Spain, at
St. Sebastian, and at Passages, were crowned by the intrepidity with
which the bar of the Adour was crossed. Undaunted by the failure of
the leading vessels, which perished in the surf--with death before
their eyes, and their comrades swamping in the waters--on came
the succeeding _chasse-marées_.[267] At last the true channel was
discovered. Vessel succeeded vessel,--and before night a perfect
bridge was established over the Adour, able from its solidity to resist
a river current, and protected from any effort of the enemy by a line
of booms and spars, which stretched across the river as a security
against fire ships, or any other means which the French might employ
for its destruction[268]
Before the flotilla had entered the Adour, or the pontoons had arrived
from Bedart, the guards attempted a passage of the river by means of
the small boats and a temporary raft formed of a few pontoons, and
worked as a flying bridge, by means of a hawser extended from the
opposite bank. As the strength of the tide interrupted this precarious
mode of passage, when only six companies, with two of the 60th rifles,
and a party of the rocket corps, had crossed, the position of this
small body, isolated as it was, and open to the attack of overwhelming
numbers, was dangerous in the extreme.[269] Colonel Stopford, however,
made the best dispositions in his power for defence, and formed with
one flank upon the river, and the other appuied upon a morass, while
the heavy guns that had been placed in battery on the other shore,
swept the ground in front of the position with their fire. As had
been truly apprehended, an attack was made. The French advanced
with fifteen hundred men, and the guards and rifles received them
steadily--the rocket corps, on either flank, opening with this novel
and destructive projectile.[270] A few discharges completely arrested
the enemy’s advance, and they hastily retired from the attack; while
at the turning of the tide, reinforcements were ferried over, and the
position secured until the following evening, when the whole of the
first division, with two guns and a few troops of dragoons, succeeded
in effecting a passage.
Bayonne, in the mean time, was closely invested, and the garrison
forced back from the villages in front of their lines, by Sir John
Hope.[271] Lord Wellington, having secured the attention of Soult by
a formidable demonstration on his front, enabled Sir Rowland Hill to
pass the Gave de Oleron unopposed, and thus turn the left flank of the
French marshal. Soult instantly retired and took a position behind the
Pau, establishing his head-quarters at Orthez. Picton, with the third
and light divisions, had followed Hill; Clinton, with the sixth, had
crossed between Laas and Montford; and Beresford observed the enemy at
Peyrehorade closely, and kept them within their intrenchments.
Lord Wellington had decided on an immediate attack. The French were
very strongly posted--their left wing, commanded by Clausel, rested on
the Gave, and occupied the town of Orthez; the centre, under d’Erlon,
was formed on the heights in the rear; while the right wing extended
behind St. Boes, and held that village. Harispe’s division was placed
as a reserve in the rear, and crossed the great roads leading to
Bordeaux and Toulouse.
On the 27th, Wellington commenced his operations. The allied left wing,
composed of the fourth and seventh divisions and Vivian’s brigade,
under Marshal Beresford, attacked the enemy’s right at St. Boes;
while the third and sixth divisions, under Sir Rowland Hill, with Lord
Edward Somerset’s light cavalry, were directed against Soult’s left
and centre. The British movements were ably executed. Hill crossed the
river in front of the French left, and turned their flank--the enemy
holding their ground with great obstinacy, while the allied attack was
as remarkable for its impetuosity. A final and protracted struggle
ensued--but the French, unable to sustain the combined assault of the
allies, commenced retreating by divisions, and contesting every inch
of ground as they abandoned it. Hill’s parallel march was speedily
discovered--and as that movement threatened their rear, the order of
the retreat was accelerated, and gradually assumed the character of a
flight. The British pressed rapidly forward--the French as quickly
fell back--both strove to gain Sault de Navailles--and though charged
by the English cavalry, the enemy crossed the Luy de Bearne before Hill
could succeed in coming up.
The defeat of the 27th was decisive. The French loss in killed and
wounded was immense. Six guns and a number of prisoners were taken;
the troops threw away their arms,--many deserted altogether--and few
defeats were marked by more injurious results to the vanquished, than
those attendant upon that of Orthez.
The allied loss amounted to two hundred and seventy-seven killed, one
thousand nine hundred and twenty-three wounded, and seventy missing.
One circumstance occurred during this obstinate contest that displayed
the readiness of Lord Wellington’s decisions, and the rapidity with
which he adopted measures to meet any incidental exigency.
A Portuguese battalion in advancing had been so roughly received,
that it broke and fell back upon a brigade of the light division, who
succeeded in covering its retreat. The nature of the ground on which
the right of the enemy was posted, from its narrow front, confining
the attack to a line of but two battalions; while a heavy battery of
guns and a converging fire of musketry swept its approach and rendered
the boldest efforts of the assailants unavailing in carrying the
height. Wellington perceived the difficulty, and in a moment changed
his method of attack. Walker, with the seventh division, and Barnard,
with a light brigade, were pushed up the left of the height to attack
the right of the French at its point of junction with the centre;
and Picton and Clinton were directed to advance at once, and not as
they had been originally ordered, await the result of Beresford’s
attempt upon the hill. The whole face of the battle was thus suddenly
changed--the heights were speedily won--and the enemy, after a fierce
resistance, driven fairly from their ground, and forced from a most
formidable position.
That night the French retired to Hagetman--and, joined by the garrison
of Dax, fell back on St. Sever, and afterwards on Agen--Beresford
advancing by Mont de Marsan, and Hill in the direction of Aire. Heavy
rains favoured the French retreat, by impeding the advance of the
allies--and it was the 2nd of March before Hill overtook them in front
of Aire.
Although posted on formidable ground, Sir Rowland instantly and
successfully brought them to action. The second division, with De
Costa’s Portuguese, advanced to the attack; the former by the road
to Aire, and the latter by the heights upon the left of the enemy.
The movement of Stewart’s division was most brilliant; and though the
Portuguese behaved gallantly and won the ridge, they were attacked
furiously, and unable to hold the ground, deforced, and driven in great
confusion from the height. The French followed with a strong column,
and the consequences threatened to be disastrous, but the success of
the second division permitted Sir Rowland to detach Byng’s brigade to
the assistance of De Costa; and in place of assailing a broken corps,
the enemy’s columns were confronted by one in equal order, and already
buoyant with success. The result was what might have been expected--
the French were charged and beaten from the field--the town and the
position abandoned--the Adour hastily crossed--a number of prisoners
made, and a regiment cut off and obliged to retire to Pau.[272]
Soult pursued the line of the right bank of the Adour, and
concentrated at Plaisance and Maubourget, to await Lord Wellington’s
attack--but finding the road to Bordeaux uncovered, the allied general
marched his left wing directly on that city. On Beresford’s approach,
the garrison evacuated the place, crossing over to the right bank of
the Garonne; and the authorities and inhabitants generally assumed the
white cockade, and declared themselves in favour of the Bourbons.
TOULOUSE.
Termination of the conference of Chatillon.--Wellington determines
to reduce Bayonne.--Soult marches on Toulouse, and Wellington
pursues him.--Description of Toulouse.--Passage of the Garonne
effected.--Battle of Toulouse.--Subsequent events and movements.
The celebrated conference at Chatillon terminated on the 19th of March,
and the allied Sovereigns determined to march direct upon the capital,
of which they obtained possession on the 31st. The intelligence of
this momentous event had not reached the south of France--and Lord
Wellington made immense preparations to enable him to invest and reduce
Bayonne. Fascines and gabions were obtained in abundance--a large
supply of siege artillery, with shot and shells, was landed at Passages
from England--scaling-ladders were constructed in the woods--the site
of the batteries marked out--and all was ready for an investment.
One division being considered sufficient for the protection of
Bordeaux, that city was intrusted to the care of Lord Dalhousie, while
Marshal Beresford was recalled, and joined the army with the remainder
of his corps.
Soult had manœuvred to draw the allies from Bordeaux; and his _corps
d’armée_ occupied positions on the right bank of the Adour, with
advanced pickets in the town of Tarbes.
On the 20th of March, Hill’s division was directed to attack the
left wing of the enemy, after driving their outposts from Tarbes--
while Clinton, with the sixth division, and Ponsonby and Lord Edward
Somerset’s cavalry brigades, should cross the river between Vic Bigorre
and Rabastens, and, by turning the right of the French, gain Soult’s
rear. To guard against this menaced attack, the French marshal retired
under cover of the night, and fell back upon Toulouse, destroying the
bridges as he passed them.
The unavoidable difficulty in crossing flooded rivers, and moving
pontoons over roads nearly impassable from heavy rains, delayed the
allied march. Soult, therefore, reached Toulouse in four days, while
Wellington, by great exertion, was only enabled to arrive before it in
seven.
Toulouse stands on the right bank of the Garonne, which separates it
from a large suburb called Saint Cyprien. The eastern and northern
sides of the city are inclosed by the canal of Languedoc, which joins
the Garonne a mile below the town. On the east of the city is the
suburb of Saint Etienne; on the south that of Saint Michael, and on
that side the great road from Carcassone and Montpellier enters the
town. The population was estimated at fifty thousand souls--and it was
generally understood that the inhabitants of Toulouse were secretly
attached to the Bourbons.
The city is walled and connected by ancient towers--but these
antiquated defences would avail little against the means employed in
modern warfare. Soult, therefore, intrenched the fauxbourg of Saint
Cyprien--constructed _têtes du pont_ at all the bridges of the canal--
threw up redoubts and breastworks, and destroyed the bridges across
the Ers. The southern side he considered so secure as to require no
additional defences, trusting for its protection to the width and
rapidity of the Garonne.
The first attempt of the allied leader to throw a pontoon bridge across
the river, was rendered impracticable by the sudden rising of its
waters. Higher up, however, the passage was effected, but the roads
were quite impassable--and Lord Wellington determined to lay the
pontoons below the city, which was accordingly done--and Beresford
with the fourth and sixth divisions, was safely placed upon the right
bank.
This temporary success might have been followed by disastrous
consequences. The Garonne suddenly increased--a flood came pouring
down--the swollen river momentarily rose higher--and to save the
pontoons from being swept away, the bridge was removed, and the
divisions left unsupported, with an overpowering force in front, and an
angry river in their rear. Soult neglected this admirable opportunity
of attacking them; and on the second day the flood had sufficiently
abated to allow the pontoons to be laid down again, when Frere’s
Spanish corps passed over, and reinforced the isolated divisions.
The bridge was now removed above the city, to facilitate Hill’s
communications, who, with the second division, was posted in front of
the fauxbourg of Saint Cyprien. The passage of the third and light
divisions was effected safely--and Picton and Baron Alten took up
ground with their respective corps in front of the canal, and invested
the northern face of Toulouse.
Early on the morning of the 10th, the fortified heights on the eastern
front of the city were attacked. Soult had placed all his disposable
troops in this position--and thus defended, nothing but determined
gallantry on the part of the assailants could expect success.
The bridge of Croix d’Orade, previously secured by a bold attack of
the 18th hussars, enabled Beresford and Frere to move up the left bank
of the Garonne, and occupy ground in front of the heights preparatory
to the grand attack. The sixth division was in the centre, with the
Spaniards on the right, and the fourth British on the left. The
cavalry of Sir Stapleton Cotton and Lord Edward Somerset were formed
in support of the left and centre; and Arentchild, now in command
of Vivian’s brigade, was attached to the left flank, while Ponsonby
protected the right. The light division occupied the vacant ground
between the river Garonne and the road to Croix d’Orade; its left
abutting on the division under Frere; and the third--its right resting
on the river--communicated with Hill’s corps upon the left by means
of the pontoon bridge. These divisions--those of Hill, Picton, and
Alten--were ordered to attack the enemy’s intrenchments in front of
their respective corps, simultaneously with the grand assault upon the
heights.
The fourth and sixth divisions moved obliquely against the enemy’s
right, carried the heights, and seized a redoubt on the flank of
the position; while the fourth Spanish corps, directed against the
ridge above the road to Croix d’Orade, advanced with confidence, and
succeeded in mounting the brow of the hill. But the heavy fire of
the French batteries arrested their onward movement. They recoiled--
became confused--and sought shelter from the fury of the cannonade
in a hollow way in front of the enemy’s position.[273] The French,
perceiving their disorder, advanced and vigorously charged. Frere
vainly endeavoured to rally his broken troops and lead them on again;
they were driven back confusedly on the Ers, and their déroute appeared
inevitable.
Lord Wellington saw and remedied this reverse. Personally, he rallied
a Spanish regiment, and bringing up a part of the light division,
arrested the French pursuit, and allowed the broken regiments time to
be re-organized. The bridge across the Ers was saved--Frere reformed
his battalions, and the fugitives rejoined their colours.
Beresford immediately resumed the attack--two redoubts were carried--
and the sixth division dislodged the enemy, and occupied the centre
of their position. The contest here was exceedingly severe--Pack, in
leading the attack, was wounded--and in an attempt to recover the
heights by the French, Taupin, who commanded the division, was killed.
Every succeeding effort failed--and the British held the ground their
gallantry had won.
Picton had most imprudently changed a false into a real attack upon
the bridge over the canal of Languedoc nearest its entrance into the
Garonne--but the _tête du pont_ was too strong to be forced, and he
fell back with considerable loss. On the left, Sir Rowland Hill menaced
the fauxbourg of Saint Cyprien, and succeeded in fully occupying the
attention of its garrison, thus preventing them from rendering any
assistance when Soult was most severely pressed.
In the mean time, Beresford having obtained his artillery, resumed
offensive movements, and advanced along the ridge with the divisions of
Cole and Clinton. Soult anticipated the attack, and threw himself in
front and flank in great force upon the sixth division; but the effort
failed. The French marshal was driven from the hill--the redoubts
abandoned--the canal passed--and, beaten on every point, he sought
refuge within the walls of Toulouse.
Few victories cost more blood than this long and hard-contested
battle. The allied casualties, including two thousand Spaniards,
nearly extended to seven thousand men. Several regiments lost half
their number--and two, the 45th and 61st, their colonels.[274] It
was impossible to ascertain the extent to which the French suffered.
Their loss was no doubt commensurate with that of the victors. Of their
superior officers alone, two generals were killed, and three wounded
and made prisoners.
On the night of the succeeding day, Soult, alarmed by Wellingtons
movements on the road to Carcassone, retired from the city, which next
morning was taken possession of by the allies, although the French
unblushingly assert that they gained a victory.[275]
There was seldom a bloodier, and never a more useless battle fought
than that of the 10th of March--for on the evening of the 12th,
an English and French field officer, Colonels Cooke and St. Simon,
arrived at the allied head-quarters, with intelligence that, on the
3rd hostilities had ceased, and the war was virtually terminated. A
courier, despatched from the capital with this important communication,
had been unfortunately interrupted in his journey; and in ignorance of
passing events, the contending armies wasted their best energies, and
lost many of the bravest on both sides, in a bootless and unnecessary
encounter.
Soult, on having the abdication of Napoleon formally notified to him
on the night of the 13th, refused to send in his adherence to the
Bourbons, merely offering a suspension of hostilities, to which Lord
Wellington most properly objecting, instantly recommenced his pursuit
of the French marshal’s beaten divisions. The advance, however, was not
continued. Soult acknowledged the provisional government--and a line
of demarcation was drawn between the allied troops and those of the
Duke of Dalmatia.
An unnecessary expenditure of human life cannot be regarded without
deep regret, bordering upon abhorrence. Surely enough of blood had been
shed uselessly at Toulouse,[276] but it was destined that more should
flow.
SORTIE OF BAYONNE.
Bayonne invested.--Sortie on the night of the 13th.--Thouvenot
driven back.--Wellington advances.--Soult sends in his adherence
to the Provisional Government.--Wellington visits Paris and
Madrid. The army returns to England.--Duke of Wellington takes his
seat in the House of Peers.
The British and French officers having passed through Bordeaux,
forwarded a hurried notification to Sir John Hope, announcing the
termination of hostilities; but, unfortunately, no accredited person
was despatched. Of course, Sir John waited for orders from Lord
Wellington; but he communicated the important intelligence he had
received to the French outposts--and as the siege guns had not
arrived, no jealousy should have been entertained by Thouvenot, who
commanded the garrison of Bayonne.[277] Like Soult at Toulouse, that
general, however, wantonly provoked an affair, from which no glory
resulted to himself, and much blood was unnecessarily wasted.
On the night of the 13th, two deserters came over to the allied
outposts, and gave information that the whole of the garrison were
under arms, and prepared to make a sortie early on the following
morning. At three o’clock the British regiments were formed and ready
to receive the enemy--and a false attack was presently made on the
outposts in front of Anglez. In the darkness, which was intense, the
firing was too apparent in its feebleness, not to betray that the
attempt was but a feint, and intended only to mask a more determined
effort. The true attack was speedily made. The allied pickets in front
of the citadel were partially surprised--and, rushing forward, two
French columns with their customary impetuosity broke through the
line of outposts stationed between St. Etienne and St. Bernard, while
another powerful column moved upon the former village, and the whole
line of pickets on the right bank of the river became seriously engaged.
A deep hollow way leads through St. Etienne, inclosed in some places
by high banks, and at others by garden walls. The ground about St.
Etienne is everywhere confined, and the communications are few and
difficult. Hence, when the advanced line was broken, many of the
pickets were totally cut off. In their attempts to retire, several
murderous affairs ensued--when finding themselves desperately
situated, they resorted to as desperate means. Some fought their way
through, and succeeded in escaping--more, however, perished in the
attempt,--and heaps of dead, both French and English, lay crowded
together in spaces of little extent, and the bayonet wounds by which
they had mutually perished, betrayed the ferocity with which the
British had resisted to the last.
As it might be naturally supposed that the grand object of the sortie
would be the destruction of the bridge of vessels over the Adour, Lord
Saltoun placed himself in readiness to repel the expected attack, and
occupied in force the convent of St. Bernard, which he had already
strongly fortified. The first division, moved forward to support the
picket, was cannonaded by the French gun-boats, which dropping down
the river had covered the sortie. The enemy came forward in imposing
numbers--the whole of the village of St. Etienne fell into their
hands--and while giving orders for the defence of some important
buildings, Major-general Hay was unfortunately killed.
On the first alarm, Sir John Hope, with his staff, hastened towards
St. Etienne--and not aware that the village was already in possession
of the enemy, and that his pickets had retired, he entered the hollow
road as the shortest way to reach the scene of action. In a few
minutes the enemy’s column was discovered in the feeble light, and the
general wheeled round to extricate himself from the threatened danger
of being taken. It was now too late--the French infantry hurried
on, and commenced firing within a dozen yards--Sir John’s horse was
killed, and falling on his leg prevented him from rising. Two of his
staff dismounted to assist him, but they too were severely wounded,
and rendered unable to relieve the general--and the whole fell into
the hands of the enemy.[278] Sir John was immediately hurried to
Bayonne, and on the road was again wounded in the foot by a shot from
the English pickets. Other prisoners, of lesser note, had fallen into
the hands of the French, during the darkness and confusion incident on
a night attack--among these was Colonel Townshend, who commanded the
pickets of the Guards.
The first brigade of Guards was now desired to support the right flank,
and the second directed to recover the ground that lay between it and
the village of St. Etienne. Finding the attack confined to the centre
of the British lines immediately in front of the citadel, the third
battalion of the Guards was detached, under Colonel Stuart, to regain
the hollow road, and drive the enemy from the fields in its rear.
These attempts were finally successful. The Coldstream and first Foot
Guards rushed forward on opposite flanks, cheering loudly as they
charged--and the French, alarmed lest they should be cut off from
Bayonne, rapidly retired over the glacis of the citadel, suffering
considerable loss[279] from the musketry of their pursuers.
The contest at St. Etienne had been maintained with great obstinacy.
A company of the 38th, commanded by Captain Forster, occupied and
held a house in that village, against every effort the enemy made to
dispossess them. The little garrison were sadly reduced, when a brigade
of Germans under General Hinuber, recovered the village, and saved the
remnant of the gallant band.
A night attack is always attended by an awful grandeur that it is
almost impossible to imagine or describe--and, in effect, nothing
could exceed the sortie from the citadel of Bayonne. The deeper flashes
of the cannon, the sparkling of the musketry, the sudden bursting of
the shells, after describing curves of light in their transit,[280] and
the brilliant illumination occasionally produced by the fire-balls
thrown from the fortress to direct the range of its artillery, were
singularly contrasted with the darkness of the night, which, after
these brief and brilliant displays, appeared gloomier and denser than
before. Presently, a fascine depôt became ignited by the bursting of
a shell, and several houses at the same time caught fire and burned
furiously, throwing a lurid glare over a field on which death was busy.
To complete this fearful picture, the thunder of one hundred guns, and
the bursting of shells, united with the cheering of the combatants and
the cries of the wounded--all, in point of horror, rendering it, as a
scene of slaughter, perfect.
On both sides the sortie of Bayonne entailed a deplorable loss of
life.[281] Independent of prisoners, the British numbered fully five
hundred killed and wounded, while the French loss was estimated at
eight hundred and fifty. Several superior officers fell--and a great
number of subordinate rank were reckoned among the killed and wounded.
“Towards the close of the action, the moon had risen, and as dawn broke
over the scene of battle, a spectator could discern the dreadful havoc
that had been made. The French and English soldiers and officers were
lying on all sides, either killed or wounded; and so intermixed were
they, that there appeared to have been no distinct line belonging to
either party.”[282]
The command of the left wing devolved on Major-General Colville, and
the rival armies continued to observe each other with the most jealous
vigilance.
Lord Wellington never relaxed his active movements; and Soult having
refused to acknowledge the provisional government, the allied commander
advanced. The bold and decisive measures of the allied leader
doubtless hastened the Duke of Dalmatia in making his decision--and,
on the arrival of a second official communication, Soult notified
his adherence, and hostilities ceased. Suchet had already shewn
him the example--and Toulouse displayed the white flag. A line of
demarcation was made by commissioners between the rival armies, and a
regular convention signed by the respective commanders.[283] On the
27th, Thouvenot was instructed by Soult to surcease hostilities, and
acknowledge the Bourbons--the lilies floated over the citadel--and
saluted by three hundred rounds of artillery, Napoleon’s abdication,
and the restoration of the Bourbons, were formally announced.[284]
In the north of France, Napoleon’s downfal had been hurrying rapidly
to its close. The congress at Chatillon finally concluded its sittings
on the 19th of March--and on the next day, Buonaparte was severely
repulsed in a general engagement with the allies at Arcis. Even the
repeated reverses he had latterly endured, could not extinguish that
audacity of action for which the French emperor was so remarkable.
With a ruined army, he threw himself behind the Marne on the 22nd,
regardless of the enormous _corps d’armée_ collected in his front, and
whose numbers were quite adequate to crush a force like his, weakened
by defeat, and disheartened by the defection of the southern provinces.
Directing his march on St. Dizier, he declared “that he should reach
Vienna before the allies entered Paris.” If this mad project were
devised only to interrupt their advance on the French capital, it
failed entirely,--the allied corps marched steadily on Paris--Marmont
and Mortier were driven back upon that city--and the capital was
regularly invested on the 29th.
Affairs had now reached a crisis. To defend that city with a corps not
mustering twenty thousand men, would have been, with every assistance
attainable from the inhabitants and _gendarmerie_, an act of madness.
On the 30th, the allies carried the heights of Bellevue. The marshals
retired--Joseph, the ex-King of Spain, quitted the capital--and the
city, evacuated by the regular troops, capitulated.
Failing in his efforts at distracting the allied generals in their
advance, Napoleon, after a smart affair, decided to countermarch on
Paris--but the Prussian corps, that held Vitry, completely barred the
direct line of march, and obliged him to take a circuitous rout. Having
put his army again into motion, Buonaparte travelled post, and when
within four leagues of Paris, learned that his capital was actually in
possession of the allies. After much indecision he determined, with
what troops he could collect, to march from Fontainbleau to Paris, on
the 3rd of April. But his history had been already politically closed
by a decree passed on the preceding day by the conservative senate. His
deposition was solemnly pronounced--the soldiery liberated from their
allegiance--all confidence, civil and military, was destroyed--and
a throne, erected on the ruins of kingdoms, and cemented by seas of
blood, crumbled into nothingness, and,
“Like the baseless fabric of a vision,
Left not a wreck behind.”
With political events we have no business, and it is sufficient to
cursorily observe, that arrangements were effected for Napoleon’s
retirement from public life to the “lonely isle,” where he might still,
in fancy, “call himself a king.” To this secluded spot, many of his old
and devoted followers accompanied him. Peace was generally proclaimed
over Europe; tranquillity restored in France; the “Grand Nation,” to
all appearance, contented itself with the change of government; the
allied sovereigns retired with their respective corps, each to his own
dominions; and the victorious army of Wellington quitted the French
soil, on which it had consummated its glory; and received, on landing
on the shores of Britain, that enthusiastic welcome which its “high
deeds” and boundless gallantry deserved from a grateful country.[285]
Lord Wellington quitted Toulouse on the night of the 30th of April, and
reached Paris safely on the morning of the 4th of May. His reception by
the restored monarch and the allied sovereigns was most gratifying--
for none had done so much for the deliverance of Europe;--none,
when all beside, with few exceptions, “blanched from the helm,”
so fearlessly persevered, regardless of disheartening abandonment
abroad and more evil auguries at home. Advanced to a dukedom, the
allied general had gained every honour to which a British subject was
admissible--while every court in Europe had already marked their
admiration and respect, by presenting to the Liberator of Spain the
insignia of the highest orders at their disposition.
The flattering reception bestowed upon the English duke in the French
capital detained him but a brief space from his high command. He
left Paris on the 10th--hurried to Toulouse--arranged every thing
for a short absence--and hastened to Madrid to welcome the deposed
monarch, who, through his instrumentality, had been replaced upon the
throne. The honours already conferred upon the duke by the provisional
government were confirmed by Ferdinand, and the rank of Captain-General
of Spain added to the rest. On the 5th of June he quitted Madrid--
reached head-quarters on the 10th,--reviewed those splendid divisions
to whom so often he had pointed out the path of victory,--and, in
a modest and plainly-written order, bade his companions in arms
farewell[286]--and returned to England “the admired” of his own, and
the “envied one” of his opponents. His general order was dated the
14th of June,[287] and on the 23rd he landed at Dover and proceeded to
the capital.
It is a singular, and, we believe, an unprecedented occurrence, that
when presented to the House of Lords, four patents of nobility, namely,
those of Viscount, Earl, Marquis, and Duke, were severally read, when,
for the first time, Wellington took his seat among the assembled peers
of Britain.
NAPOLEON’S RETURN.--BATTLE OF QUATRE BRAS.
Napoleon’s return.--His enthusiastic reception.--Makes mighty
efforts to restore the military power of France.--Duke of
Wellington arrives in Brussels, and takes the command of the
allies.--Belgium.--Napoleon leaves Paris.--Drives in the
Prussian outposts.--Ney attacks the Prince of Orange.--Wellington
marches to his assistance.--Battle of Quatre Bras.
A few months passed away--Europe was apparently at rest--its military
attitude was gradually softening down--and all the belligerent powers,
weary of a state of warfare that, with slight intermission, had lasted
for a quarter of a century, enjoyed the repose which the overthrow
of Napoleon’s power had produced. But this state of quietude was
delusory--it was the treacherous calm that precedes a tempest. Untamed
by adversity, that ambitious spirit was gathering strength for another
effort--France was ready to receive him--past victories would thus be
rendered useless--Europe convulsed again--and none could foresee what
strange events the descent of Napoleon might produce.
No recorded career parallels that of Napoleon Buonaparte; and in
the history of kings and conquerors, the strangest story was his
own. He seemed the shuttlecock of Fortune--and she placed him “on
a pinnacle of pride merely to mark her own mutability.” Hurled from
the sovereignty of half the world, his star had lost its ascendancy,
apparently to rise no more,--when, by the happiest accident, his
voyage from Elba was uninterrupted[288]--his landing unopposed--an
enthusiastic welcome everywhere was given to the intruder--legions
congregated at his bidding--the empire was offered and accepted--and
the first intelligence of his descent was closely followed by a formal
acknowledgment of his restoration to the sovereignty of France.
Napoleon landed in the Var on the 1st of March, and on the 19th he
slept in the palace of Fontainbleau. Louis had abandoned the capital,
and in a few hours the dynasty of the Bourbons seemed forgotten. None
opposed the return of the exile--his decrees were absolute, his wishes
were anticipated. The splendour of military parade delighted the
soldiery, while the theatric glitter of a _champ de Mai_ was admirably
adapted to catch the fancies, and win the momentary attachment of a gay
and thoughtless people. The whole pageant, in scenic effect, was suited
for those whom it was designed to lure--and on the 17th of April,
Napoleon was formally restored to that empire, from which the same
“sweet voices” had, but a few months before, so formally deposed him.
Parisian adulation, and the military devotion he received from the
moment his foot touched the shore at Cannes, did not blind him to
“coming events.” A vain effort to make terms with the allied powers
was scornfully rejected. At Vienna, his overtures were treated with
disdain, and his letter to the English regent was returned with the
seal unbroken. He saw from all these premonitory occurrences, that
a storm was about to burst, and lost no time in preparing for a
determined resistance. A powerful army alone could avert the danger--
and, with his customary tact, Napoleon made prodigious efforts to
restore the military strength of the empire, which the Russian, German,
and Peninsular campaigns had during the last years so miserably
weakened.
French vanity was successfully appealed to--the memory of past
victories recalled--and martial glory, that powerful touchstone of
national feeling, successfully employed to win the people to his
standard. The younger of the male population were called out by
ordonnances, and the retired veterans collected once more around those
eagles, which, in prouder days, had entered half the European capitals
in triumph.
The military power of France was organized anew. Commissioners,
specially employed, enforced the operations of Napoleon’s decrees
in every department of the kingdom. The Imperial Guard was
re-established--the cavalry increased and remounted--that powerful
arm, the artillery, by which half the victories of the French army
had been achieved, was enlarged and improved--and, in a time
inconceivably short, a most splendid _corps d’armée_, perfect in every
department, was ready for the field.
While Napoleon was thus engaged, Wellington, having signed on behalf
of the Prince Regent the treaty of Vienna, arrived at Brussels on the
5th of April, to take command of the British army. There, the troops of
the Prince of the Netherlands, with those of Nassau and Brunswick, were
placed under his orders--the whole forming the Anglo-Belgic army.
The Prussian _corps d’armée_ were cantoned in and about Namur and
Charleroi--while Ostend, Antwerp, Tournay, Ypres, Mons, and Ghent,
were occupied by the allies. The position of the Anglo-Belgic army was
extended and detached--for the preceding harvest in the Low Countries
had been unusually deficient; and of course, the British and Belgic
cantonments covered an additional surface to obtain the requisite
supplies.
The allied corps in June were thus disposed. Lord Hill, with the
right wing, occupied Ath. The left, under the Prince of Orange, was
posted at Braine-le-Comte and Nivelles. The cavalry, under the Marquis
of Anglesea, were established round Grammont; and the reserve and
head-quarters, under the duke, were quartered in Brussels.
Belgium, for centuries, had been the seat of war--and every plain,
every fortress, had its tale of martial achievement to narrate. Within
its iron frontier there were few places which had not witnessed
some affair of arms--the whole country was rife with military
reminiscences--and it was destined to prove the scene where the
greatest event in modern warfare should be transacted. As a country,
Belgium was admirably adapted for martial operations--the plains,
in many places extensive, terminated in undulated ridges or bolder
heights; while the surface generally admitted the movements of masses
of infantry. Canals, rivers, morasses, and villages, presented
favourable positions to abide a battle, and difficult ones for an
advancing army to force--while the fortresses everywhere offered
facilities for retiring upon,--and presented serious obstacles to
those who must mask or carry them when advancing.
To a commander circumstanced like Wellington, great perplexity, as
to the distribution of his army, must arise--for the mode and point
of Napoleon’s attack were alike involved in mystery. He might decide
on adopting a defensive war, and permit the allies to become the
assailants. This course, however, was not a probable one--but where
he would precipitate himself was the difficulty. He was already in
great force around Maubeuge and Binch, and consequently, Nivelles and
Charleroi were equally exposed to aggression. On the right, he might
attack Namur with Girard’s corps; or, with D’Erlon’s, advance on
Courtrai by Lille; while leaving the wood of Soignies on his right,
he could reach Brussels by Mons and Braine-le-Comte, thus gaining the
rear of the allies, and favouring an insurrectionary movement of the
Belgians--an event on which he placed considerable reliance. All these
movements were open to Napoleon--and had he adopted others than he did
at the opening of the campaign, that more fortunate results would have
attended them, are now subjects only for military speculation.
Meanwhile, after leaving Paris on the 12th, and inspecting Laon as he
passed, he reached Avennes on the 14th. The respective corps had moved
instantaneously from their cantonments, and with admirable precision
united themselves on the Belgic frontier, and to them Napoleon issued
his celebrated address. A slight change of the poet’s words would best
describe it--
“It was his _boldest_ and his last!”
The dangerous proximity of Brussels to the point where Napoleon’s
_corps d’armée_ were concentrating, naturally produced an anxious
inquietude among the inhabitants and visitants. The city was filled
every hour with idle rumours, but time alone could develope Napoleon’s
plans.
The first intelligence of a threatening movement on the part of the
French emperor was forwarded to the Duke of Wellington, when Blucher
learned that Zeithen’s corps was attacked. The despatch reached
Brussels at half-past four--but, as it merely intimated that the
Prussian outposts had been driven back, the information was not of
sufficient importance to induce the British commander to make any
change in the cantonments of the allied army. Nothing, in fact,
could have been more masterly than the manner in which the different
corps were disposed. From necessity, they were extended over a large
surface--but still, they were so stationed as to admit a concentration
of the whole within four-and-twenty hours, or a junction with the
Prussian right, should a flank movement be found desirable.
A second despatch reached the duke at midnight, and its intelligence
was more decisive than the former. Napoleon was across the Sambre,
and in full march on Charleroi and Fleurus. Orders were instantly
issued for the more detached corps to break up from their cantonments
and advance upon Nivelles, while the troops in Brussels should march
direct by the forest of Soignies, on Charleroi. Thus there would be a
simultaneous reunion of the brigades as they approached the scene of
action, while their communication with the Prussian right should be
carefully secured.
Blucher’s second despatch was delivered to the British general in the
ball-room of the Duchess of Richmond. That circumstance most probably
gave rise to the groundless report that Wellington and the Prussian
marshal were surprised--but nothing could be more absurd than this
supposition. Both commanders were in close and constant communication,
and their plans for mutual co-operation were amply matured.[289]
Where the intended attack--if Napoleon would indeed venture to become
aggressor--should be made, was an uncertainty,--and it had been
arranged, that if Blucher were assailed, Wellington should move to his
assistance, or, in the event of the British being the first object
with Napoleon, then the Prussian marshal should sustain the duke with
a corps, or with his whole army, were that found necessary. Nothing
could be more perfect than the cordial understanding between the allied
commanders--and the result proved how faithfully these mutual promises
of support were realized.
A defensive war was better suited to the military resources of France,
and more likely to excite national spirit, than a forward movement;
but still, with his characteristic daring, keeping the Prussians for
a time in check, Napoleon might penetrate to Brussels by the road of
Charleroi. It would have been undoubtedly a dangerous experiment--but
circumstanced as he was, even with one hundred thousand Prussians on
his flank, it was not improbable that the trial would be hazarded.
Two hours after midnight, the gaiety of “fair Brussels” closed--the
drums beat to arms, and all was hurry and preparation. Momentarily
the din increased, “and louder yet the clamour grew,” as the Highland
pibroch answered the bugle-call of the light infantry.[290] The
soldiery, startled from their sleep, poured out from the now deserted
dwellings; and the once peaceful city exhibited a general alarm.
The sun rose on a scene of confusion and excitement. The military
assembled in the Place Royale; and the difference of individual
character might be traced in the respective bearings of the various
soldiery. Some were taking a tender--many, a last leave of wives and
children--others, stretched upon the pavement, were listlessly waiting
for their comrades to come up--while not a few strove to snatch a
few moments of repose, and appeared half insensible to the din of war
around them. Waggons were loading and artillery harnessing; orderlies
and aides-de-camp rode rapidly through the streets; and in the gloom
of early morning the pavement sparkled beneath the iron feet of the
cavalry, as they hurried along the causeway to join their respective
squadrons, which were now collecting in the Park.
The appearance of the British brigades as they filed from the Park
and took the road to Soignies, was most imposing. The martial air of
the Highland regiments, the bagpipes playing at their head, their
tartans fluttering in the breeze, and the early sunbeams flashing from
their glittering arms, excited the admiration of the burghers who had
assembled to see them march. During the winter and spring, while they
had garrisoned Brussels, their excellent conduct and gentle demeanour
had endeared them to the inhabitants; and “they were so domesticated
in the houses where they were quartered, that it was no uncommon
thing to see the Highland soldier taking care of the children, or
keeping the shop of his host.”[291] Regiment after regiment marched--
the organization of all most perfect:--the Rifles, Royals, 28th--
each exhibiting some martial peculiarity, on which the eye of Picton
appeared to dwell with pride and pleasure as they filed off before him.
To an intelligent spectator a national distinction was clearly marked.
The bearing of the Scotch bespoke a grave and firm determination--
while the light step and merry glance of the Irish militiaman told that
war was the game he loved, and a first field had no terrors for him.
Eight o’clock pealed from the steeple clocks; all was quiet--the
brigades, with their artillery and equipages, were gone--the crash of
music was heard no longer--the bustle of preparation had ceased--and
an ominous and heart-sinking silence succeeded the noise and hurry that
ever attends a departure for the field of battle.
Napoleon’s plan of penetrating into Belgium[292] was now so clearly
ascertained, that Wellington determined to concentrate on the extreme
point of his line of occupation. His march was accordingly directed on
Quatre Bras, a small hamlet situated at the intersection of the road to
Charleroi, by that leading from Namur to Nivelles.
This village, which was fated to obtain a glorious but sanguinary
celebrity, consists of a few mean houses, having a thick and extensive
wood immediately on the right called Le Bois de Bossu. All around the
wood and hamlet, rye-fields of enormous growth, and quite ready for the
sickle, were extended.
After a distressing march of twenty miles in sultry weather and over a
country destitute of water, the British brigades reached the scene of
action at two o’clock. They found the Prince of Orange with a division
of his army endeavouring to hold the French in check, and maintain a
position of whose great importance he was so well aware. The prince,
unable to withstand the physical superiority of Ney’s corps, had
gradually lost ground--the Hanoverians had been driven back--and the
Bois de Bossu was won and occupied by the enemy.[293]
To recover this most important wood, from which the French could
debouche upon the road to Brussels, was the duke’s first object. The
95th were ordered to attack the tirailleurs who held it; the order was
gallantly executed, and after a bloody and sustained resistance the
French were forced to retire.
On the left, the Royals and 28th were hotly engaged, and on the right
the 44th and Highland regiments were simultaneously assailed. The
battle now became general. Before the British could deploy, the French
cavalry charged furiously--the tall rye masking their advance and
favouring the attack. Generally these charges were unsuccessful--
and the perfect discipline and steady courage of the English enabled
them to repel the enemy. Lancers and cuirassiers were driven back
with desperate slaughter--while whole squadrons, shattered in their
retreat, and leaving the ground covered with their dead and dying,
proved with what fatal precision the British squares sustained their
fusilade.
The efforts of the French to break the squares, however, were fierce
and frequent. Their batteries poured upon these unflinching soldiers
a storm of grape--and when an opening was made by the cannon, the
lancers were ready to rush upon the devoted infantry. But nothing could
daunt the lion-hearted English--nothing could shake their steadiness.
The dead were coolly removed, and the living occupied their places.
Though numbers fell, and the square momentarily diminished, it still
presented a serried line of glittering bayonets, through which lancer
and cuirassier endeavoured to penetrate--but in vain.
“One regiment, after sustaining a furious cannonade, was suddenly, and
on three different sides, assailed by cavalry. Two faces of the square
were charged by the lancers, while the cuirassiers galloped down upon
another. It was a trying moment. There was a death-like silence; and
one voice alone, clear and calm, was heard. It was their colonel’s,
who called upon them to be ‘steady.’ On came the enemy!--the earth
shook beneath the horsemen’s feet; while on every side of the devoted
band, the corn bending beneath the rush of cavalry disclosed their
numerous assailants. The lance blades nearly met the bayonets of the
kneeling front rank--the cuirassiers were within a few paces--yet
not a trigger was drawn. But, when the word ‘fire!’ thundered from
the colonel’s lips, each side poured out its deadly volley--and in
a moment the leading files of the French lay before the square, as
if hurled by a thunderbolt to the earth. The assailants, broken and
dispersed, galloped off for shelter to the tall rye, while a constant
stream of musketry from the British square, carried death into their
retreating squadrons.”[294]
But, unhappily, these furious and continued charges were not always
inefficient. On the right, and in the act of forming square, the 42nd
were attacked by the lancers. The sudden rush, and the difficulty of
forming in corn reaching to the shoulder, gave a temporary success
to the assailants. Two companies, excluded from the square, were
ridden over and cut down. The colonel was killed--half the regiment
disabled--but the remainder formed and repulsed the charge; while
those detached in the _mêlée_ fought back to back with desperate
coolness, until the withering fusilade of their companions dispersed
the cavalry, and enabled them to rejoin their ranks.
The remaining regiments of the Highland brigade were hotly pressed by
the enemy; they had not a moment’s respite; for no sooner were the
lancers and cuirassiers driven back, than the French batteries opened
with a torrent of grape upon the harassed squares, which threatened
to overwhelm them. Numbers of officers and men were already stretched
upon the field, while the French, reinforced by fresh columns,
redoubled their exertions, while the brave and devoted handful of
British troops seemed destined to cover with their bodies that ground
their gallantry scorned to surrender. Wellington, as he witnessed the
slaughter of his best troops, is said to have been deeply affected; and
repeated references to his watch, showed how anxiously he waited for
reinforcements.
The Bois de Bossu had continued to be the scene of a severe and
fluctuating combat. The 95th had driven the French out--but under a
heavy cannonade, and supported by a cavalry movement, the rifles were
overpowered by numbers and forced to retire, fighting inch by inch,
and contesting every tree. Ney established himself at last within the
wood--and ordered up a considerable addition to the light troops, who
had already occupied this important point of the position.
The contest was at its height. The incessant assaults of the enemy
were wasting the British regiments, but, with the exception of the
Bois de Bossu, not an inch of ground was lost. The men were falling in
hundreds--death was busy everywhere--but not a cheek blanched, and
not a foot receded! The courage of these undaunted soldiers needed no
incitement--but on the contrary, the efforts of their officers were
constantly required to restrain the burning ardour that would, if
unrepressed, have led to ruinous results. Maddened to see their ranks
thinned by renewed assaults which they were merely suffered to repel,
they panted for the hour of action. The hot blood of Erin was boiling
for revenge--and even the cool endurance of the Scotch began to yield,
and a murmur was sometimes heard of, “Why are we not led forward?”
And yet, though forward movements were denied them, the assailants
paid dearly for this waste of British blood. For a long hour, the
92nd had been exposed to a destructive fire from the French artillery
that occasioned a fearful loss. A regiment of Brunswick cavalry had
attempted to repel a charge of cuirassiers, and repulsed with loss,
were driven back upon the Highlanders in great disorder. The hussars
galloped down a road on which part of the regiment was obliqued--the
remainder lining the ditch in front. The rear of the Brunswickers
intermingled with the headmost of the French horsemen, and for a
while, the 92nd could not relieve them with their musketry. At last
the pursuers and pursued rode rapidly past the right flank of the
Highlanders, and permitted them to deliver their volley. The word
“fire!” was scarcely given, when the close and converged discharge of
both wings fell, with terrible effect, upon the advanced squadron.
The cuirassiers were literally cut down by that withering discharge,
and the road choked up with men and horses rolling in dying agony--
while the shattered remnant of what but a few moments before had been
a splendid regiment, retreated in desperate confusion to avoid a
repetition of that murderous fusilade.
At this period of the battle, the guards, after a march of
seven-and-twenty miles, arrived from Enghein, from whence they had
moved at three in the morning. Exhausted by heat and fatigue, they
halted at Nivelles, lighted fires, and prepared to cook their dinners.
But the increasing roar of cannon announced that the duke was seriously
engaged, and a staff officer brought orders to hurry on. The bivouac
was instantly broken up--the kettles packed--the rations abandoned--
and the wearied troops cheerfully resumed their march.
The path to the field of battle could not be mistaken; the roar of
cannon was succeeded by the roll of musketry, which at every step
became more clearly audible; and waggons, heaped with wounded British
and Brunswickers interspersed, told that the work of death was going on.
The Guards, indeed, came up at a fortunate crisis. The Bois de Bossu
was won; and the tirailleurs of the enemy, debouching from its cover,
were about to deploy upon the roads that it commanded, and would thus
intercept the duke’s communication with the Prussians. The fifth
division, sadly reduced, could hardly hold their ground--any offensive
movement was impracticable--and the French tirailleurs were actually
issuing from the wood--but on perceiving the advancing columns, they
halted. The first brigade of Guards, having loaded and fixed bayonets,
were ordered to advance--and, wearied as they were with a fifteen
hours’ march, they cheered, and pushed forward.[295] In vain the thick
trees impeded them--and although every bush and coppice was held
and disputed by the enemy, the tirailleurs were driven in on every
side. Taking advantage of a rivulet which crossed the wood, the enemy
attempted to form and arrest the progress of the Guards. That stand was
momentary--they were forced from their position, and the wood once
more was carried by the British.
Their success was, however, limited to its occupation; the broken
ground and close timber prevented the battalion from forming; and when
it emerged, and of course in considerable disorder--from its cover,
the masses of cavalry drawn up in the open ground charged and forced
it back. At last, after many daring attempts to debouch and form, the
first brigade fell back upon the third battalion, which, by flanking
the wood, had been enabled to form square, and repulse the cavalry, and
there the brigade halted. Evening was now closing in--the attacks of
the enemy became fewer and feebler--a brigade of heavy cavalry with
horse artillery came up--and, worn out by the sanguinary struggle of
six long hours, the assailants ceased their attack--and the fifth and
third divisions took a position for the night upon the ground their
unbounded heroism had held through this long and bloody day.
Thus terminated the fight of Quatre Bras--and a more glorious victory
was never won by British bravery. Night closed the battle--and when
the limited number of the allied troops actually engaged is considered,
this sanguinary conflict will stand almost without a parallel. At the
opening of the action at half-past two, the Duke’s force could not
have exceeded sixteen thousand--his whole cavalry consisting of some
Brunswick hussars, supported by a few Belgian and Hanoverian guns--
and the great distance of their cantonments from the field of battle
prevented the British cavalry and horse artillery arriving until late
in the evening. Vivian’s brigade (1st Hanoverian, and 10th and 18th
hussars) came up at seven o’clock--but the rest only reached Quatre
Bras at the close of the action, having made a forced march from behind
the Dender, over bad roads for more than forty miles. Ney, by his own
account, commenced the battle with the second corps and Excelman’s
cavalry--the former numbering thirty thousand, strong in artillery,
and its cavalry, that of the second corps included, amounting to three
thousand six hundred. The French marshal complains that the first
corps, originally assigned to him, and which he had left at Frasnes
in reserve, had been withdrawn by Napoleon without any intimation,
and never employed during the entire day--and thus, as Ney writes to
Fouche, “twenty-five or thirty thousand men were, I may say, paralyzed,
and idly paraded during the battle, from the right to the left, and the
left to the right, without firing a shot.” All this admitted, surely
his means were amply sufficient to have warranted a certain victory?
In numbers his cavalry were infinitely superior--his artillery was
equally powerful--while in those important arms, Wellington was
miserably weak--and all he had to oppose to his stronger antagonist,
were the splendid discipline and indomitable courage of British
infantry.
The loss sustained by the British and their allies in this glorious
and hard-contested battle amounted to three thousand seven hundred
and fifty, _hors de combat_. Of course, the British suffered most
severely, having three hundred and twenty men killed, and two thousand
one hundred and fifty-five wounded. The Duke of Brunswick fell in the
act of rallying his troops, and an immense number of British officers
were found among the slain and wounded. During an advanced movement,
the 92nd, while repulsing an attack of both cavalry and infantry,
met a French column, retreating to the wood, which halted and turned
its fire on the Highlanders, already assailed by a superior force.
Notwithstanding, the regiment bravely held its ground until relieved by
a regiment of the Guards, when it retired to its original position. In
this brief and sanguinary conflict, its loss amounted to twenty-eight
officers, and nearly three hundred men.
The casualties, when compared with the number of the combatants,
will appear enormous. Most of the battalions lost their commanding
officers--and the rapid succession of subordinate officers on whom the
command devolved, told how fast the work of death went on. Trifling
wounds were disregarded--and men, severely hurt, refused to retire
to the rear, or rejoined their colours after a temporary dressing.
Picton’s was a remarkable instance of this disregard of suffering; he
was severely wounded at Quatre Bras, and the fact was only ascertained
after his glorious fall at Waterloo.
The French loss, according to their own returns, was “very
considerable, amounting to four thousand two hundred killed or wounded;
and Ney in his report says, “I was obliged to renounce my hopes of
victory; and in spite of all my efforts, in spite of the intrepidity
and devotion of my troops, my utmost efforts could only maintain me in
my position till the close of the day.”
“Ney fell back upon the road to Frasnes. The moon rose angrily--still
a few cannon-shot were heard after the day had departed; but gradually
they ceased. The fires were lighted, and such miserable provisions as
could be procured were furnished to the harassed soldiery; and while
strong pickets were posted in the front and flanks, the remnant of
the British, with their brave allies, piled their arms and stretched
themselves on the field.”[296]
While the British held their battle-ground, the Prussians had been
obliged to retire in the night from Ligny.[297] This, however, was
not ascertained until morning--as the aide-de-camp despatched with
the intelligence to Quatre Bras had unfortunately been killed on the
road. Corps after corps arrived during the night, placing the Duke of
Wellington in a position to have become assailant next morning had
Blucher succeeded in maintaining his position, and repulsed Napoleon’s
attack.
The night passed--the wounded were removed[298]--the dead partially
buried;--disabled guns were repaired, ammunition served out, and all
was ready for “a contest on the morrow.”
The intelligence of the Prussian retreat, of course, produced a
correspondent movement--and the Duke of Wellington, to maintain his
communications with Marshal Blucher, decided on falling back upon a
position in front of the village of Waterloo, which had been already
surveyed, and selected by the allied leader as the spot on which he
should make a stand.
MOVEMENTS OF THE 17TH JUNE.
Napoleon arrives at Frasnes, and Wellington retires towards
Waterloo.--Cavalry affair at Genappe.--The allies take their
position.--Dispositions of the different corps.--The field of
battle.
Napoleon had reached Frasnes at nine o’clock on the morning of the
17th, and determined on attacking the allied commander. Still uncertain
as to the route by which Blucher was retiring, he detached Grouchy in
pursuit with the third and fourth corps, and the cavalry of Excelmans
and Pajol, with directions to overtake the Prussian marshal, if
possible, and in that case bring him to action.
While Buonaparte delayed his attack until his reserve and the sixth
corps came up, his abler antagonist was preparing to retire. This
operation in open day was difficult, as the Dyle was in the rear of
the allies, and the long and narrow bridge at the village of Genappe
the only means by which the _corps d’armée_ could effect its passage.
Wellington disposed some horse-artillery and dismounted dragoons upon
the heights, and leaving a strong rear-guard in front of Quatre Bras,
he succeeded in masking his retreat until, when discovered, it was
too late to offer any serious interruption to the regressive movement
of the allies. While the rear of the columns were still defiling
through the narrow streets of Genappe, Napoleon’s advanced cavalry
overtook and attacked the rear-guard, and a sharp affair ensued. The
7th Hussars, assisted by some squadrons of the 11th and 23rd Light
Dragoons, charged the French horsemen boldly--but they were repulsed;
and a second effort was bravely but ineffectually attempted. The Life
Guards were instantly ordered up, and led in person to the charge by
Lord Anglesea, who was in command of the British rear-guard. Their
attack was decisive--the enemy were severely checked, and driven in
great disorder back upon their supports. No other attempt was made by
the French cavalry to embarrass the retreat of the allied columns--and
except by an occasional cannonade, too distant to produce any serious
effect, the remainder of the march on Waterloo was undisturbed by the
French advance.
The allies reached the position early in the evening, and orders were
issued for the divisions to halt and prepare their bivouacs. The ground
for each brigade had been already marked out--the troops piled their
arms,--the cavalry picketed their horses--the guns were parked--
fires were lighted along the lines, and all prepared the best mode of
sheltering themselves from the inclemency of the weather, which scanty
means could afford them in an exposed position like that of Waterloo.
All through the day rain had occasionally fallen--but as night came
on, the weather became more tempestuous. The wind rose, and torrents of
rain, with peals of thunder and frequent lightning, rendered the dreary
night before the battle anything but a season of repose.
While the troops bivouacked on the field, the Duke of Wellington with
the general officers and their respective staffs occupied the village
of Waterloo. On the doors of the several cottages the names of the
principal officers were chalked--“and frail and perishing as was the
record, it was found there long after many of those whom it designated
had ceased to exist!”
The ground on which the allied commander had decided to accept battle
was chosen with excellent judgment. In front of the position, the
surface declined for nearly a quarter of a mile, and rose again for
an equal distance, until it terminated in a ridge of easy access,
along which the French had posted a number of their brigades--the
intermediate space between the armies being covered by a rich crop of
rye nearly ready for the sickle. In the rear, the forest of Soignies,
intersected by the great roads from Charleroi to Brussels, extended;
and nearly at the entrance to the wood, the little village of Waterloo
was situated. The right of the British was stretched over to Merke
Braine, and the left appuied upon a height above Ter le Haye. The whole
line was formed on a gentle acclivity the flanks partially defended by
a small ravine with broken ground. The farm-house of La Haye Sainte,
in front of the left centre, was defended by a Hanoverian battalion--
and the chateau of Hougomont, in advance of the right centre, held by a
part of the Guards and a few companies of Nassau riflemen. This was the
strongest point of the whole position; and the Duke had strengthened
it considerably, by erecting barricades and perforating the walls with
loopholes, to permit the musketry of its defenders to be effectively
employed.
Wellington’s first line, comprising some of his best regiments, was
drawn up behind these posts--the second was still farther in the
rear, and, from occupying a hollow, was sheltered from the fire of the
French artillery. The third was formed of the cavalry: and they were
more retired still, extending to Ter le Haye. The extreme right of the
British obliqued to Merke Braine, and covered the road to Nivelles--
while the left kept the communication with the Prussians open by the
Ohain road, which runs through the passes of Saint Lambert. As it was
not improbable that Napoleon might endeavour to reach Brussels by
marching circuitously round the British right, a corps of observation,
composed of the greater portion of the fourth division, under Sir
Charles Colville, was detached to Halle; and consequently those troops,
during the long and bloody contest of the 18th, were at a distance from
the field, and remained _non-combatant_.
The allied dispositions were completed soon after daylight, although it
was nearly noon before the engagement seriously commenced. The division
of Guards, under General Cooke, was posted on a rise immediately
adjoining the chateau of Hougomont, its right leaning on the road to
Nivelles; the division of Baron Alten, had its left flank on the road
of Charleroi, and was drawn up behind the house of La Haye Sainte.
The Brunswick troops were partly in line with the Guards and partly
held in reserve; and the Nassau troops were generally attached to
Alten’s division. Some of the corps in line, and a battalion acting _en
tirailleur_, occupied the wood of Hougomont. This _corps d’armée_ was
commanded by the Prince of Orange.
The British divisions of Clinton and Colville, two Hanoverian brigades,
and a Dutch corps under the command of Lord Hill, were placed _en
potence_, in front of the right.
On the left, the division of Picton, a British brigade under Sir John
Lambert, a Hanoverian corps, and some troops of the Netherlands,
extended along the hedge and lane which traverses the rising ground
between the road to Charleroi and Ter le Haye. This village, with the
farm of Papilotte, contiguous to the wood of Frichemont, was garrisoned
by a post of the Nassau contingent, commanded by the hereditary
Prince of Weimar. The cavalry were under the direction of the Earl of
Uxbridge--and the artillery were commanded by Sir George Wood.
No part of the allied position was remarkable for natural strength; but
where the ground displayed any advantages, they had been carefully made
available for defence. The whole surface of the field of Waterloo was
perfectly open, and the acclivities of easy ascent. Infantry movements
could be easily effected--artillery might advance and retire,--
and cavalry could charge. On every point the British position was
assailable; and the island soldier had no reliance but in “God and his
Grace”--for all else depended on his own stout heart and vigorous arm.
BATTLE OF WATERLOO.
Morning of the 18th.--Armies in each other’s presence.--Opening,
progress, and close of the battle.--Losses sustained.--Subsequent
operations.--Conclusion.
Morning broke--the rain still continued, but with less severity
than during the preceding night; the wind fell, but the day lowered,
and the dawn of the 18th[299] was gloomy and foreboding. The British
soldiers recovered from the chill cast over them by the inclemency of
the weather; and, from the ridge of their position, calmly observed the
enemy’s masses coming up in long succession, and forming their numerous
columns on the heights in front of La Belle Alliance.
The bearing of the French was very opposite to the steady and cool
determination of the British soldiery. With the former, all was
exultation and arrogant display; while, with characteristic vanity,
they boasted of an imaginary success at Quatre Bras, and claimed a
decisive victory at Ligny!
Although, in point of fact, beaten by the British on the 16th, Napoleon
tortured the retrograde movement of the Duke on Waterloo into a defeat;
and the winning a field from Blucher, attended with no advantage beyond
the capture of a few disabled guns, afforded a pretext to declare in
his dispatches that the Prussian army was routed and disorganized,
without a prospect of being rallied.
The morning passed in mutual dispositions for battle--and the French
attack commenced soon after eleven o’clock. The first corps, under
Count D’Erlon, was in position opposite La Haye Sainte, its right
extending towards Frichemont, and its left leaning on the road to
Brussels. The second corps, uniting its right with D’Erlon’s left,
extended to Hougomont, with the wood in its front.
The cavalry reserve (the cuirassiers) were immediately in the rear of
these corps; and the Imperial Guard, forming the grand reserve, were
posted on the heights of La Belle Alliance. Count Lobau, with the sixth
corps, and D’Aumont’s cavalry, were placed in the rear of the extreme
right, to check the Prussians, should they advance from Wavre, and
approach by the defiles of Saint Lambert. Napoleon’s arrangements were
completed about half-past eleven, and immediately the order to attack
was given.
The place from which Buonaparte viewed the field, was a gentle rising
ground[300] beside the farm-house of La Belle Alliance. There he
remained for a considerable part of the day, dismounted, pacing to
and fro with his hands behind him, receiving communications from his
aides-de-camp, and issuing orders to his officers. As the battle became
more doubtful, he approached nearer the scene of action, and betrayed
increased impatience to his staff by violent gesticulation, and using
immense quantities of snuff. At three o’clock he was on horseback in
front of La Belle Alliance; and in the evening, just before he made
his last attempt with the Guard, he had reached a hollow close to La
Haye Sainte. Wellington, at the opening of the engagement, stood upon a
ridge immediately behind La Haye, but as the conflict thickened, where
difficulties arose and danger threatened, there the duke was found. He
traversed the field exposed to a storm of balls, and passed from point
to point uninjured--and on more than one occasion, when the French
cavalry charged the British squares the duke was there for shelter.
A slight skirmishing between the French tirailleurs and English light
troops had continued throughout the morning, but the advance of a
division of the second corps, under Jerome Buonaparte, against the post
of Hougomont, was the signal for the British artillery to open, and
was, in fact, the commencement of the battle of Waterloo. The first
gun fired on the 18th was directed by Sir George Wood upon Jerome’s
advancing column; the last was a French howitzer, at eight o’clock in
the evening, turned by a British officer against the routed remains of
that splendid army with which Napoleon had begun the battle.
Hougomont[301] was the key of the duke’s position, a post naturally of
considerable strength, and care had been taken to increase it. It was
garrisoned by the light companies of the Coldstream and 1st and 3rd
Guards;[302] while a detachment from General Byng’s brigade was formed
on an eminence behind, to support the troops defending the house and
the wood[303] on its left. Three hundred Nassau riflemen were stationed
in the wood and garden; but the first attack of the enemy dispersed
them.
To carry Hougomont, the efforts of the second corps were principally
directed throughout the day. This fine corps, thirty thousand strong,
comprised three divisions; and each of these, in quick succession,
attacked the well-defended farm-house. The advance of the assailants
was covered by a tremendous cross-fire of nearly one hundred pieces,
while the British guns in battery on the heights above, returned the
cannonade, and made fearful havoc in the dense columns of the enemy
as they advanced or retired from the attack. Although the French
frequently occupied the wood, it afforded them indifferent shelter from
the musketry of the troops defending the house and garden; for the
trees were but slight, and planted far asunder. Foy’s division passed
entirely through and gained the heights in the rear; but it was driven
back with immense loss by part of the Coldstream and 3rd Guards.[304]
At last, despairing of success, the French artillery opened with shells
upon the house; the old tower of Hougomont was quickly in a blaze; the
fire reached the chapel, and many of the wounded, both assailants and
defenders, perished miserably there. But still, though the flames raged
above, shells burst around, and shot ploughed through the shattered
walls and windows, the Guards nobly held the place, and Hougomont
remained untaken.[305] It was computed that Napoleon’s repeated and
desperate attacks upon this post cost him eight thousand men. The
British lost fourteen hundred.
The advance of Jerome on the right was followed by a general onset upon
the British line--three hundred pieces of artillery opening their
cannonade, and the French columns in different points advancing to
the attack. Charges of cavalry and infantry, sometimes separately and
sometimes with united force, were made in vain. The British regiments
were disposed, individually, in squares, with triple files, each placed
sufficiently apart to allow it to deploy when requisite. The squares
were mostly parallel, but a few were judiciously thrown back; and this
disposition, when the French cavalry had passed the advanced regiments,
exposed them to a flanking fire from the squares behind. The English
cavalry were in the rear of the infantry, and the artillery in battery
over the line. The fight of Waterloo may be easily comprehended by
simply stating, that for ten hours it was a continued succession of
attacks of the French columns on the squares; the British artillery
playing upon them as they advanced, and the cavalry charging when they
receded.
“But no situation could be more trying to the unyielding courage of
the British army than this disposition in squares at Waterloo. There
is an excited feeling in an attacking body that stimulates the coldest
and blunts the thoughts of danger. The tumultuous enthusiasm of the
assault spreads from man to man, and duller spirits catch a gallant
frenzy from the brave around them. But the enduring and devoted courage
which pervaded the British squares when, hour after hour, mowed down
by a murderous artillery, and wearied by furious and frequent onsets
of lancers and cuirassiers; when the constant order, “Close up!--
close up!” marked the quick succession of slaughter that thinned their
diminished ranks; and when the day wore later, when the remnants of
two, and even three regiments were necessary to complete the square,
which one of them had formed in the morning--to support this with
firmness, and ‘feed death,’ inactive and unmoved, exhibited that
calm and desperate bravery which elicited the admiration of Napoleon
himself.”[306]
At times the temper of the troops had nearly failed; and, particularly
among the Irish regiments, the reiterated question of--“When shall
we get at them?” showed how ardent the wish was to avoid inactive
slaughter, and, plunging into the columns of the assailants, to avenge
the death of their companions. But the “Be cool, my boys!” from their
officers was sufficient to restrain this impatience--and, cumbering
the ground with their dead, they waited with desperate intrepidity for
the hour to arrive when victory and vengeance should be their own!
[Illustration:
_Painted by Sir T. Lawrence, P.R.A._
_Engraved by P. Lightfoot._
Anglesey]
While the second corps was engaged at Hougomont, the first was directed
by Napoleon to penetrate the left centre. Had this attempt succeeded,
the British must have been defeated, as it would have been severed and
surrounded. Picton’s division was now severely engaged. Its position
stretched from La Haye Sainte to Ter la Haye; in front there was an
irregular hedge; but being broken and pervious to cavalry, it afforded
but partial protection. The Belgian infantry, who were extended in
front of the fifth division, gave way as the leading columns of
D’Erlon’s corps approached--the French came boldly to the fence--
and Picton, with Kempt’s brigade, as gallantly advanced to meet them.
A tremendous combat ensued. The French and British closed; for the
cuirassiers had been already received in squares and repulsed with
immense loss. Instantly Picton deployed the division into line; and
pressing forward to the hedge, received and returned the volley of
D’Erlon’s infantry, and then crossing the fence, drove back the enemy
at the point of the bayonet. The French retreated in close column,
while the fifth mowed them down with musketry, and slaughtered them
in heaps with their bayonets. Lord Anglesea seized on the moment, and
charging with the Royals, Greys, and Enniskilleners, burst through
every thing that opposed him. Vainly the mailed cuirassier and
formidable lancer attempted to withstand this splendid body of heavy
cavalry: they were overwhelmed; and the French infantry, already
broken and disorganized by the gallant fifth, fell in hundreds beneath
the swords of the English dragoons. The eagles of the 45th and 105th
regiments, and upwards of two thousand prisoners, were the trophies of
this brilliant charge.[307]
But, alas! like most military triumphs, this had its misfortune to
alloy it. “Picton fell! But where could the famed commander of the old
‘Fighting Third’ meet with death so gloriously? He was at the head of
the division as it pressed forward with the bayonet; he saw the best
troops of Napoleon repulsed; the ball struck him, and he fell from his
horse; he heard the Highland lament answered by the deep execration of
Erin; and while the Scotch slogan was returned by the Irish hurrah,
his fading sight saw his excited division rush on with irresistible
fury. The French column was annihilated--and two thousand dead enemies
told how desperately he had been avenged. This was, probably, the
bloodiest struggle of the day. When the attack commenced--and it
lasted not an hour--the fifth division exceeded five thousand men; and
when it ended, it scarcely reckoned eighteen hundred bayonets!”[308]
While Picton’s division and the heavy cavalry had repulsed D’Erlon’s
effort against the left, the battle was raging at La Haye Sainte, a
post in front of the left centre. This was a rude farm-house and barn,
defended by five hundred German riflemen; and here the attack was
fierce and constant, and the defence gallant and protracted. While a
number of guns played on it with shot and shells, it was assailed by
a strong column of infantry. Thrice they were repulsed; but the barn
caught fire, and the number of the garrison decreasing, it was found
impossible, from its exposed situation, to supply the loss, and throw
in reinforcements. Still worse, the ammunition of the rifle corps
failed--and reduced to a few cartridges, their fire had almost ceased.
Encouraged by this casualty, the French, at the fourth attempt, turned
the position. Though the doors were burst in, still the gallant Germans
held the house with their bayonets; but, having ascended the walls
and roof, the French fired on them from above, and, now reduced to a
handful, the post was carried. No quarter was given--and the remnant
of the brave riflemen were bayoneted on the spot.
This was, however, the only point where, during this long and
sanguinary conflict, Buonaparte succeeded. He became master of a
dilapidated dwelling, its roof destroyed by shells, and its walls
perforated by a thousand shot-holes; and when obtained, an incessant
torrent of grape and shrapnels from the British artillery on the
heights above, rendered its acquisition useless for future operations,
and made his persistance in maintaining it, a wanton and unnecessary
sacrifice of human life.
There was a terrible sameness in the battle of the 18th of June,
which distinguished it in the history of modern slaughter. Although
designated by Napoleon “a day of false manœuvres,” in reality, there
was less display of military tactics at Waterloo, than in any general
action we have on record. Buonaparte’s favourite plan, to turn a wing,
or separate a corps, was the constant effort of the French leader. Both
were tried--at Hougomont to turn the right, and at La Haye Sainte to
break through the left centre.[309] Hence, the French operations were
confined to fierce and incessant onsets with masses of cavalry and
infantry, generally supported by a numerous and destructive artillery.
Knowing, that to repel these desperate and sustained attacks, a
tremendous sacrifice of human life must occur, Napoleon, in defiance
of their acknowledged bravery, calculated on wearying the British
into defeat. But when he saw his columns driven back in confusion--
when his cavalry receded from the squares they could not penetrate--
when battalions were reduced to companies by the fire of his cannon,
and still that “feeble few” shewed a perfect front,[310] and held
the ground they had originally taken--no wonder his admiration was
expressed to Soult--“How beautifully these English fight! but they
must give way!”[311]
And well did British bravery merit that proud encomium, which their
enduring courage elicited from Napoleon. For hours, with uniform and
unflinching gallantry, they repulsed the attacks of troops who had
already proved their superiority over the soldiers of every other
nation in Europe. When the artillery united its fire, and poured
exterminating volleys on some devoted regiment, the square, prostrate
on the earth, allowed the storm to pass over them. When the battery
ceased, to permit their cavalry to charge and complete the work of
destruction, the square was again upon their feet--no face unformed--
no chasm to allow the horsemen entrance--but a serried line of
impassable bayonets was before them, while the rear ranks threw in a
reserved fire with murderous precision. The cuirass was too near the
musket then to avert death from the wearer--men and horses went down
in heaps--each attempt ended in defeat--and the cavalry at last
retired, leaving their best and boldest before a square, which, to
them, had proved impenetrable.
When the close column of infantry came on, the square had deployed
into line. The French were received with a destructive volley, and
next moment the wild cheer which accompanies the bayonet charge,
announced that England advanced with the weapon she had always found
irresistible. The French never crossed bayonets fairly with the
British; for when an attempt was made to stand, a terrible slaughter
attested England’s superiority.
But the situation of Wellington momentarily became more critical.
Masses of the enemy had fallen, but thousands came on anew. With
desperate attachment, the French army passed forward at Napoleon’s
command--and although each advance terminated in defeat and slaughter,
fresh battalions crossed the valley, and mounting the ridge with
cries of “Vive l’Empereur!” exhibited a devotion which never had been
surpassed. Wellington’s reserves had been gradually brought into
action--and the left, though but partially engaged, could not be
weakened to send assistance to the right and centre. Many battalions
were miserably reduced; and the fifth division, already cut up at
Quatre Bras on the evening of the 16th, presented but a skeleton of
what these beautiful brigades had been when they left Brussels two days
before. The loss of individual regiments was prodigious. The 27th had
four hundred men mowed down in square without drawing a trigger; it
lost all its superior officers; and a solitary subaltern who remained,
commanded it for half the day. Another, the 92nd regiment, when not
two hundred were left, rushed at a French column and routed it with
the bayonet; and a third, the 33rd, when nearly annihilated, sent to
require support--none could be given; and the commanding officer was
told that he must “stand or fall where he was!”[312]
Any other save Wellington would have despaired; but he calculated, and
justly, that he had an army which would perish where it stood. But when
he saw the devastation caused by the incessant attacks of an enemy who
appeared determined to succeed, is it surprising that his watch was
frequently consulted, and that he prayed for night or Blucher? When
evening came on, no doubt Buonaparte began to question the accuracy of
his “military arithmetic,”--a phrase happily applied to this meting
out death by the hour. Half the day had been consumed in a sanguinary
and indecisive conflict; all his disposable troops but the Guard had
been employed, and still his efforts were foiled; and the British, with
diminished numbers, shewed the same bold front they had presented at
the commencement of the battle. He determined, therefore, on another
desperate attempt upon the whole British line; and while issuing orders
to effect it, a distant cannonade announced that a fresh force was
approaching to share the action. Napoleon, concluding that Grouchy was
coming up, conveyed the glad tidings to his disheartened columns. But
an aide-de-camp quickly removed the mistake--and the Emperor received
the unwelcome intelligence that the strange force now distinctly
observed debouching from the woods of Saint Lambert, was the advanced
guard of a Prussian corps. Buonaparte appeared, or affected to appear,
incredulous; but the fatal truth was ascertained too soon.
While the delusive hope of immediate relief was industriously
circulated among his troops, Napoleon despatched Count Lobau, with the
sixth corps, to employ the Prussians, while in person, he should direct
a general attack upon the British Line.
Meanwhile the Prussian advance had debouched from the wood of
Frichermont, and the operations of the old marshal, in the rear of
Napoleon’s right flank became alarming. If Blucher established himself
there in force, unless success against the British in his front was
rapid and decisive, or that Grouchy came promptly to his relief,
Buonaparte knew well that his situation must be hopeless. Accordingly,
he directed the first and second corps and all his cavalry reserves
against the duke,--the French mounted the heights once more--and the
British were attacked from right to left.
A dreadful and protracted encounter followed; for an hour the contest
was sustained, and, like the preceding ones, it was a sanguinary
succession of determined attack and obstinate resistance. The
impetuosity of the French onset at first obtained a temporary success.
The English light cavalry were driven back,--and for a time a number
of the guns were in the enemy’s possession,--but the British rallied
again--the French forced across the ridge, retired to their original
ground, without effecting any permanent impression.
It was now five o’clock; the Prussian reserve cavalry under Prince
William was warmly engaged with Count Lobau--Bulow’s corps, with the
second, under Pirch, were approaching rapidly through the passes of
Saint Lambert; and the first Prussian corps, advancing by Ohain, had
already begun to operate on Napoleon’s right.[313] Bulow pushed forward
towards Aywire, and, opening his fire on the French, succeeded in
driving them from the opposite heights.
The Prussian left, acting separately, advanced upon the village of
Planchenoit, and attacked Napoleon’s rear. The French maintaining
their position with great gallantry, and the Prussians, being equally
obstinate in their attempts to force the village, produced a bloody and
prolonged combat. Napoleon’s right had begun to recede before the first
Prussian corps, and his officers, generally, anticipated a disastrous
issue, that nothing but immediate success against the British, or
instant relief from Grouchy, could remedy. The Imperial Guard, his
last and best resource, were consequently ordered up. Formed in close
column, Buonaparte in person advanced to lead them on; but dissuaded
by his staff, he paused near the bottom of the hill, and to Ney, that
“spoiled child of victory,” the conduct of this redoubted body was
intrusted. In the interim, as the French right fell back, the British
moved gradually forward; and converging from the extreme points of
Merke Braine and Braine la Leud, compressed their extent of line, and
nearly assumed the form of a crescent. The Guards were considerably
advanced, and having deployed behind the crest of the hill, lay down to
avoid the cannonade with which Napoleon covered the onset of his best
troops. Ney, with his proverbial gallantry, led on the Middle Guard;
and Wellington, putting himself at the head of some wavering regiments,
in person brought them forward, and restored their confidence.
As the Imperial Guard approached the crest where the household troops
were couching, the British artillery, which had gradually converged
upon the _chaussée_, opened with canister-shot. The distance was so
short,[314] and the range so accurate, that each discharge fell with
deadly precision into the column as it breasted the hill. Ney, with his
customary heroism, directed the attack; and when his horse was killed--
on foot, and sword in hand, he headed the veterans whom he had so often
led to victory. Although the leading files of the Guard were swept
off by the exterminating fire of the English batteries, still their
undaunted intrepidity carried them forward, and they gallantly crossed
the ridge.
Then came the hour of British triumph. The magic word was spoken--“Up,
Guards, and at them!” In a moment the household brigade were on their
feet: then waiting till the French closed, they delivered a murderous
volley, cheered, and rushed forward with the bayonet, Wellington in
person directing the attack.
With the 42nd and 95th, the British leader threw himself on Ney’s
flank, and rout and destruction succeeded. In vain their gallant chief
attempted to rally the recoiling Guard; but driven down the hill, the
Middle were intermingled with the Old Guard, who had formed at the
bottom in reserve.
In this unfortunate _mêlée_, the British cavalry seized on the moment
of confusion, and plunging into the mass, cut down and disorganized
the regiments which had hitherto been unbroken. The British artillery
ceased firing--and those who had escaped the iron shower of the guns,
fell beneath sabre and bayonet.
The unremediable disorder consequent on this decisive repulse, and the
confusion in the French rear, where Bulow had fiercely attacked them,
did not escape the eagle glance of Wellington. “The hour is come!” he
is said to have exclaimed, as, closing his telescope, he commanded the
whole line to advance. The order was exultingly obeyed; and, forming
four deep, on came the British. Wounds, and fatigue, and hunger, were
all forgotten, as with their customary steadiness they crossed the
ridge; but when they saw the French, and began to move down the hill, a
cheer that seemed to rend the heavens pealed from their proud array, as
with levelled bayonets they pressed on to meet the enemy.
But, panic-struck and disorganized, the French resistance was short
and feeble. The Prussian cannon thundered in their rear--the British
bayonet was flashing in their front--and unable to stand the terror of
the charge, they broke and fled. A dreadful and indiscriminate carnage
ensued. The great road was choked with equipages, and cumbered with the
dead and dying; while the fields, as far as the eye could reach, were
covered with a host of helpless fugitives.[315] Courage and discipline
were forgotten; and Napoleon’s army of yesterday was now a splendid
wreck--a terror-stricken multitude! His own words best describe it--
“It was a total rout!”
Never had France sent a finer army to the field--and never had any
been so signally defeated. Complete as the _déroute_ at Vittoria had
appeared, it fell infinitely short of that sustained at Waterloo.
Tired of slaughtering unresisting foes, the British, early in the
night, abandoned the pursuit of the broken battalions and halted. But
the Prussians, untamed by previous exertion, continued to follow
the fugitives with increased activity, and nothing could surpass the
unrelenting animosity of their pursuit. Plunder was sacrificed to
revenge--and the memory of former defeat and past oppression produced
a dreadful retaliation, and deadened every impulse of humanity. The _væ
victis_ was pronounced--and thousands, besides those who perished in
the field, fell that night by Prussian lance and sabre.
What Napoleon’s feelings were when he witnessed the overthrow of his
guard--the failure of his last hope--the death-blow to his political
existence, cannot be described, but may be easily imagined. Turning to
an aide-de-camp, with a face livid with rage and despair, he muttered
in a tremulous voice--“_A présent c’est fini!--sauvons nous_;” and
turning his horse, he rode hastily off towards Charleroi, attended by
his guide and staff.
* * * * *
In whatever point of view Waterloo is considered, whether as a battle,
a victory, or an event, in all these, every occurrence of the last
century yields, and more particularly in the magnitude of results. No
doubt the successes of Wellington in Spain were, in a great degree,
primary causes of Napoleon’s downfal; but still the victory of Waterloo
consummated efforts made for years before in vain to achieve the
freedom of the Continent--and wrought the final ruin of him, through
whose unhallowed ambition a world had been so long convulsed.
As a battle, the merits of the field of Waterloo have been freely
examined, and very indifferently adjudicated.[316] Those who were best
competent to decide, have pronounced this battle as that upon which
Wellington might securely rest his fame--while others, admitting the
extent of the victory, ascribe the result rather to fortunate accident
than military skill.[317]
Never was a falser statement hazarded. The success attendant on the day
of Waterloo can be referred only to the admirable system of resistance
in the general, and an enduring valour, rarely equalled and never
surpassed, in the soldiers whom he commanded. Chance, at Waterloo, had
no effect upon results;--Wellington’s surest game was to act only on
the defensive--his arrangements with Blucher, for mutual support,
being thoroughly matured, he knew that before night the Prussians must
be upon the field. Bad weather and bad roads, with the conflagration
of a town in the line of march, which, to save the Prussian tumbrils
from explosion, required a circuitous movement--all these, while they
protracted the struggle for several hours beyond what might have been
reasonably computed, only go to prove that Wellington, in accepting
battle, under a well-founded belief that he should be supported
in _four hours_--when single-handed he maintained the combat and
resolutely held his ground during a space of _eight_, had left nothing
dependent upon accident, but, providing for the worst contingencies,
had formed his calculations with admirable skill.
The apologists for Napoleon lay much stress on Ney’s dilatory march
on Quatre Bras, and Grouchy’s unprofitable movements on the Dyle.
The failure of Ney upon the 16th will be best accounted for by that
marshal’s simple statement. His reserve was withdrawn by Napoleon--
and when the Prince of Moskwa required and ordered it forward, to make
a grand effort on the wearied English, the corps “was idly parading”
between Quatre Bras and Ligny; and during the arduous struggle at both
places, that splendid division had never faced an enemy or discharged
a musket. Ney’s failure in his attack was therefore attributable
to Napoleon altogether--for had his reserve been at hand, who can
suppose that the exhausted battalions of the allies, after a march
of two-and-twenty miles, and a long and bloody combat, must not have
yielded to fresh troops in overpowering masses, and fallen back from
a position tenable no longer? To Grouchy’s imputed errors, also, the
loss of Waterloo has been mainly ascribed both by Napoleon and his
admirers. But that marshal’s conduct was not obnoxious to the censure
so unsparingly bestowed upon it--for, had he disobeyed orders, and
acceded to the proposition of his second in command, would a movement
by his left have effected any thing beyond the delay of Napoleon’s
overthrow for a night? By following Girard’s advice, and marching
direct on Waterloo, the day would have ended, probably, in a drawn
battle--or even Wellington might have been obliged to retire into the
wood of Soignies. But in a few hours Blucher would have been up--in
the morning the Anglo-Prussian army would have become assailant--and
with numbers far superior, who will pretend to say that Napoleon’s
defeat upon the 19th, would not have been as certain and as signal as
his _déroute_ at Waterloo, upon the fatal evening that closed upon a
fallen empire and a last field?
The allied loss[318] was enormous, but it fell infinitely short of
that sustained by Napoleon’s army. Of the latter nothing like an
accurate return was ever made--but from the most correct estimates by
French and British officers, upwards of five-and-twenty thousand men
were rendered _hors de combat_; while multitudes were sabred in the
flight, or perished on the roads from sheer fatigue, and in deserted
villages for want of sustenance and surgical relief.
On the 19th the Duke of Wellington was again in motion, and having
crossed the frontier, he marched upon the French capital by Binch,
Malplaquet, and Château Cambresis. Colville’s division, composed of
part of the sixth British and sixth Hanoverians, took the advance of
the army, and carried Cambray by assault on the evening of the 24th.
Peronne la Pucelle was on the following day stormed by the Guards--and
on the 30th, the Duke of Wellington’s light cavalry were close to the
walls of Paris.
Grouchy’s _corps d’armée_, amounting to forty thousand men, when
detached on the 17th by Napoleon to prevent a junction of the Prussians
with the British, reached Gembloux immediately after Blucher’s
rear-guard had quitted that place on its route to Wavre. At Baraque,
early next morning, the French cavalry overtook the Prussians,
attacked, and drove them back. At one o’clock a heavy cannonade was
distinctly heard--and Girard urged Grouchy to leave a corps of
observation in front of the Prussians, and march direct on Waterloo,
while Vandamme, on the contrary, pressed the marshal to move at once on
Brussels. Grouchy, however, was determined to obey the strict letter
of his instructions, and made every effort to bring the Prussians to
action. At six in the evening, one of many officers, despatched by
Napoleon to order Grouchy to march to his assistance, succeeded in
finding the marshal and delivered the order of the emperor. It was
now six o’clock--and the marshal crossed the Dyle and moved rapidly
towards Waterloo--but all there was lost; and at daybreak, on learning
the fatal news, Grouchy abandoned his line of march, repassed the Dyle
in four divisions, and joined the cavalry of Excelmans at Namur on the
following morning. The marshal, for a time, held that town; while his
rear-guard, commanded by Vandamme,[319] checked the Prussians--and
then retiring by Dinant, he brought his corps safely to Paris after a
march of eight days, and by a retreat that his enemies admitted to be
conducted with admirable skill.
Meanwhile, Blucher, having masked the fortresses of Maubuge, Landrecy,
and Phillipville, took possession of St. Quentin, while Zeithen
advanced to Guise. On the 29th, he halted in front of the French
position between St. Denis and Vincennes--having succeeded in gaining
a day’s march on his indefatigable ally the Duke of Wellington.
On that evening Napoleon quitted the capital never to enter it again.
Hostilities ceased immediately--the Bourbons were recalled, and placed
upon the throne--and Europe, after years of anarchy and bloodshed, at
last obtained repose--while he, “alike its wonder and its scourge,”
was removed to a scene far distant from that which had witnessed his
triumphs and his reverses--and within the narrow limits of a paltry
island, that haughty spirit, for whom half Europe was too small,
dragged out a gloomy existence, until death loosened the chain, and the
grave closed upon the Captive of Saint Helena.
THE LATE INDIAN CAMPAIGNS
AGAINST
THE AFFGHANS, THE BILUCHIS,
AND
THE SIKHS.
1838 to 1846.
THE
LATE INDIAN CAMPAIGNS,
_&c._
PRELIMINARY REMARKS.[320]
Condition of Europe after the battle of Waterloo.--Necessity for peace.
A period of undisturbed repose succeeded that fearful interval in
European history, extending from the murder of a weak and worthless
monarch, to the deposition of the master spirit of the age, who
had founded a blood-cemented throne on the ruins of a corrupt and
licentious dynasty. From the revolutionary outbreak to the peace of
Paris, the annals of these stormy times are but a continuous record
of violence and slaughter--for the brief cessation of hostilities in
1801, was employed, on both sides, in active preparations to recommence
a deadlier struggle--and France and England, like angry and exhausted
duellists, rested only for the moment, until, with recruited strength,
they might renew the game of death more furiously. As “time and the
hour run through the longest day,” so national resources at last must
find a limit--for if war be a sanguinary, it is also a most expensive
pursuit. Save those of Britain and France, the European exchequers
were exhausted--one country finding her marvellous resources in
the honest supplies which flowed in from possessions on which a sun
never sets[321]--the other, by adopting a nefarious policy of making
war support war--or, in plain language, obliging the aggressed
to find all for the aggressor that he might require. War cripples
trade--and “the nation of shopkeepers,” as Napoleon contemptuously
designated England, felt the monetary pressure heavily--and John
Bull, when called upon again and again, growled as he unclosed his
purse-strings--but he always came forward when money was required.
The enormity of these demands, appeared only to elicit the boundless
extent of the means upon which England could fall back--for in one
year[322] the naval and military expenditure of the country exceeded
the almost incredible total of forty-two millions sterling, without
including immense subsidiatory outlays to friendly powers and foreign
mercenaries.[323]
On the continent, the conscriptive system then in operation was
virtually the same, although under different provisions and
modifications. The greater European powers could always bring a force
to the field numerically imposing--but that all-important requisite
to carry out war--namely, the _métallique_, was wanting. Men without
money are mere automatons--they have no motive capability,--and
before a continental brigade could make an opening march, England had
to furnish them with what is figuratively, but correctly called--“the
sinews.”
Did France escape the iron pressure of the times that all besides
upon the continent felt so sensibly? Her trade had been for years
annihilated--and, unscrupulous as the means resorted to were by
which her empty coffers might be filled, the end now could not be
realized. Plunder, territorial or fiscal--the annexation of a state,
or the imposition of a forced loan--all these from a too frequent
repetition, had failed at last. Her neighbours, who formerly had been
her El Dorado, were neither in temper nor situation to be longer
made available to meet her necessities. Schoolmen say “ex nihilo
nihil fit,”--Napoleon found the truth of that admitted adage,--
and “beautiful France” was required to look to her fair self for her
resources.
But however, and by what means, money might have been procured, to
meet exigencies which towards the end of the war daily became more
stringent, a more fearful difficulty occurred, because it was not
remediable--not only the wealth, but the _physique_ of the country
was exhausted--and the eternal drains made upon the French population
shewed the natural consequences which all must have foreseen. Thousands
after thousands of her best and bravest had crossed the frontier never
to return--and anticipated conscriptions produced in a levy of raw
youth but indifferent food for powder. When addressing the council
of state on his return from his disastrous campaign in Germany, this
fatal truth escaped,--and on this occasion Napoleon, descending from
his former affectation of Roman dignity, betrayed the exhaustion
of the country. His language was common-place and passionate, and
his disjointed harangue hurried from his dangers to his designs.
“Wellington,” said he, “is in the south--the Russians threaten the
northern frontier--Austria the south-eastern,--yet, shame to speak
it, the nation has not risen in mass to repel them! Every ally has
abandoned me: the Bavarians have betrayed me!--Peace? no peace till
Munich is in flames! I demand of you 300,000 men; I will form a camp
at Bordeaux of 100,000, another at Lyons, a third at Metz: with the
remnant of my former levies, I shall have 1,000,000 of men in arms.
But it is men whom I demand,--full-grown men; not these miserable
striplings who choke my hospitals with sick, and my highways with
carcases. Give up Holland? rather let it sink into the sea! Peace, it
seems, is talked of when all around ought to re-echo with the cry of
war!”
No wonder, therefore, when after his most singular and successful
evasion from Elba, that all save those nameless men, on whom war
bestows an evanescent consequence, sincerely desired the state of
tranquillity which followed so quick upon the hundred days’ _émeute_.
Europe, as Napoleon used to say, when “peace was on his lips and
deadly intents raging in his bosom”--required repose. All felt the
necessity and admitted it--and for more than a quarter of a century,
the external relations of the continental powers have since continued
amicable.
There were times, however, when this peaceful state of things was
threatened with interruption--but happily the temperate policy of the
prudent countervailed the rashness of those desperate men, who, in a
settled order of things, have no position in society. Occasionally,
the thunder grumbled--but the gathering clouds dispersed again. A
revolution was effected--and not a bloodless one--and yet the rest of
Europe looked calmly on. As at Algiers, Navarino, and elsewhere, the
great powers found it necessary sometimes to put forth their strength--
but generally, these operations were in connection. France has carried
on a petty and inglorious contest in Polynesia, and a more unprofitable
one in Africa;--and Russia, with neither credit nor success, made vain
attempts upon the Circassian mountaineers--England the while looked
calmly on; her attitude was dignified--the lion couched--but woe
betide any who provoked his spring! The absurd and unjust demands of
her transatlantic neighbours--“a little more than kin, and less than
kind”--were temperately but emphatically negatived. The idle threats
of a feeble power--feeble from conflicting interests, and inert
from its overgrowth, were heard with full contempt--Yankee orators
thundered her _delenda_--but England smiled, and merely asked them
to pay their debts--for she well knew that, like stubble fired, a
demagogue’s fury blazes, scintillates, and becomes smoke.
And did Britain thus remain unmoved in the abundant conviction of her
own security?--No--she despised impotent threatenings, as strongly as
she repudiated impudent demands. She knew that to America, war would
produce annihilation. The thunderbolt was lying at her foot--and the
hand was ready to launch it. The first angry shot discharged would have
covered the ocean with her fleets--and in a few brief months, nothing
under stars and stripes would have been seen upon the Atlantic--a
ruined trade and servile war must have resulted--and the States would
have been as a consequence partitioned.
A radical’s course of action, in or out of Parliament, is the same. His
business is not to see what is right, but if possible to discover what
is wrong--and if he can’t find it, he must fancy it. No one can deny
that the Admiralty--Whig and Tory, without distinction, are blundering
eternally--but as the resources of England seem illimitable, failures
are rendered nugatory--and errors, when remediable, heedless of
the expense uselessly occasioned, are corrected. Every candid and
unprejudiced officer will admit that Britain had never a navy before,
to be compared with that which she now possesses--and on careful
examination, it will be found that her military establishment is still
more perfect.
Never did a great power spring from military insignificance to
acknowledged superiority, so rapidly as Great Britain. In 1805, she was
a by-word among nations--in 1815, her martial character was first in
European estimation, although ten brief years before it had held the
lowest place.[324] Like ore unsought for, talent, as gold when in the
mine, often continues for centuries in abeyance, until circumstances
evoke it. As in individuals, so also national capabilities may be
accidentally developed--and what England was ignorant of possessing,
the Peninsula was first fated to disclose.
* * * * *
To a far more limited extent than that which had been felt in France--
England found that the deteriorating effects of twenty years’ war were
making themselves apparent upon her own population. The necessity of
dragging beardless boys from home to fill her hospitals did not exist--
but an immense bounty, and a lowered standard in recruiting, proved
that the Moloch of the battle-field made demands which with difficulty
could be answered.[325] In her militia she had an admirable reserve
to fall back upon--their _élite_ volunteered freely for the line--
and hence, the strength of regiments in the field was maintained by
constant drafts of disciplined soldiers. As the war progressed, the
efficiency of the Peninsular divisions as steadily advanced--until
Wellington might say, as he did, with truth, that the army with which
he crossed the Pyrenees was “the most perfect machine that ever had
been constructed, and one with which he could do any thing and go
anywhere.”--Glorious be the memory of these matchless soldiers!
Peace came--and the military establishment of Britain was of necessity
reduced. With a few exceptions, the regiments of the line lost their
additional battalions--every man not thoroughly serviceable was
discharged--and the militias were disbanded. But England had at last
found where her hidden strength had so long lain dormant. Formerly her
sole dependence rested on her wooden walls--her dominion over ocean
was undisputed--there was not a sea on which her proud ensign did not
float--nor a corner of the earth unvisited by her trading vessels.
The Peninsula, however, had given her another arm--she had proved its
power, and determined that the integrity of its strength should be
preserved--and, while in number her army was reduced, in efficiency
it was augmented. No longer drained of the flower of her youth, and
obliged to fill up the casualties incident to siege and battle-field
with levies from her population, physically inferior, she now only
recruited picked men. To the experience of the past, the improvements
of modern science were united--and under the chief-commandership of
the honoured and lamented Hill, the organization of the British army
became perfect. Sacred be that great and good man’s memory! Living--he
was easy of access, bland in his manner, and honest in his purpose--
and dead, he bequeathed to the soldier the example of a well-earned
fame--and to his country, an army--as far as numbers go--unmatched,
unmatchable--in Europe.
CHAPTER I.
THE AFFGHANISTAN CAMPAIGNS.[326]
The Shah invades Affghanistan.--Sir John Keane advances on
Candahar.--Reduction of Ghuznee.--Surrender of Dost Mahomed.--
Retreat of Monson.--Bailey’s surrender.
Twenty years elapsed--and so far as England was concerned, Europe
continued tranquil. If the British sword did not rust, it rested
quietly in the sheath--and the East ere long was destined to prove,
that during that period of inactivity, its temper had remained
unaltered.
Throughout this work European politics have been carefully eschewed--
and the complications, falsity, and foul character of Eastern
diplomacy, would be irrelevant, and disgust but not interest. In
1836, the aggressive acts of Persia, influenced by Russian gold, were
sufficiently alarming, but all doubt was removed, when the Shah invaded
Affghanistan, and laid siege to Herat. Although that city held strongly
out, and finally repulsed the Persians, the country generally was
anxious for their alliance,[327] and to check an influence that might
prove truly dangerous hereafter, the Indian government decided on an
armed intervention, and the restoration of Shah Shoojah was made the
apology for a hostile demonstration.
The entrance of an invading army into Affghanistan was heralded by the
Simla declaration,[328] and a strong force, termed “the army of the
Indus,” in due time penetrated this mountain country by the route of
the Bolan Pass.[329]
The occupation of Affghanistan was disastrous from the first. The
troops were severely harassed and half-starved--and the blunders of
the political agents, want of cordiality in the commanders, dissension
between the contingents of Bengal and Bombay, all gave little promise
of ultimate success. Early in April, Sir John Keane joined and took the
chief command, and on the 7th he advanced on Candahar. The march was
extremely oppressive. Intense heat, want of water, desultory attacks,
all made the movement a distressing one, but Candahar was at last
reached, and Shah Shoojah restored to the Musnad.
Sir John’s next operation was the reduction of Ghuznee,[330] and it
would appear rather unaccountable that with this strong fortress before
him, he should have left his siege-train at Candahar.
Sir John, however, seemed to hold Peninsular practice in fortunate
recollection, for he repeated at Ghuznee,[331] what Brochard, a
French engineer, had tried so successfully at Amarante,[332] blew
down a barricade, and carried the place by storm. Khelat[333] was
subsequently taken by assault, and the army of the Indus soon after
broken up,--the Bombay contingent retiring to cantonments, and the
Bengal retaining military occupation of Cabool.
Dost Mahomed, who had escaped, immediately appeared in arms, and
the tribes between the Oxus and Hindoo Koosh broke out into open
insurrection. Dennie defeated the Affghan chief in front of Bameean,
and Sale took Tootundurrah, Jugla, and Rahderrah. With exhausted
resources, the Dost found that to continue a contest would be
hopeless,--and on the 3rd of November, he surrendered to the envoy,
the unfortunate Sir William MacNaughten.[334]
The next epoch in Indian history is painfully unfortunate, and the
military occupation of Affghanistan forms a fearful pendant to Monson’s
retreat[335] and Bailey’s surrender. The resistance of Bailey was
most glorious,[336] but the retreats from Hindustan and Cabool were
consequences of indecision and want of daring. By the latter many a
commander has been saved, even though that daring should have bordered
upon rashness. In Monson’s affair, Holkar might have been arrested on
the Chumbul,--and bold measures, promptly carried out, have proved
successful in Affghanistan; but Monson retreated when he should have
held his ground, and Burnes and MacNaughten temporized when they should
have acted. A brief notice will best sum up the disastrous finale of
the Affghanistan invasion. Burnes, in false security, was murdered--
and MacNaughten placed himself in the power of a treacherous ruffian,
and paid the penalty of his folly with his life. The rest is a tale of
perfidy, disgrace, and slaughter.
But yet gloomy as that miserable history is, brilliant scintillations
of British heroism were not wanting. The forcing of the mountain passes
was most creditable to Dennie, as the defence of Jellalabad was to
Sale. Both since have filled a soldier’s grave--and braver spirits
never breathed their last upon a battle-field.