The Closing Battles of the Peninsular War
(1812-14)
“_In the whole of my experience I never saw an army so strongly
posted as the French at the battle of Toulouse. There ought to have
been an accurate plan and description made of the whole affair as a
matter of professional science._”
WELLINGTON.
Marmont’s army was not the only one in retreat. King Joseph, with
15,000 troops, had left Madrid with the set purpose of joining the
Marshal, but when he received news of the battle of Salamanca he
retreated on Valencia, where Suchet’s army was posted, and peremptorily
ordered Soult to evacuate Andalusia. This would enable him to bring
90,000 men to bear on his victorious enemy. His withdrawal from
Madrid enabled Wellington to enter the capital on the 12th August
1812, Marmont, or rather Clausel, who had temporarily succeeded
him, being driven back upon Burgos. The evacuation of the southern
province was doubtless very gratifying to the Spaniards, but the
threatened concentration of such a vast array of troops placed the
Anglo-Portuguese army in an extremely unhappy position. The force at
Wellington’s disposal numbered 60,000 men, and although an additional
6000 had just landed at Alicante, in Valencia, it was evident that
they would be of little service at the moment. When he became aware
that Soult was about to abandon Andalusia he left part of his army to
occupy Madrid, and with the remainder set out in the hope of being able
to crush Clausel, who was at Valladolid. This he was unable to do, for
the enemy retired from position to position. He followed him to Burgos,
which Wellington entered, the French General meanwhile encamping on the
banks of the Ebro, where he shortly afterwards received substantial
reinforcements under Caffarelli and Souham the latter of whom arrived
as Marmont’s successor. Wellington was also joined by some 11,000
Spanish troops of the army of Galicia. He at once laid siege to the
castle above the town, which was strongly defended, and although the
troops worked with praiseworthy ardour and four attempts were made to
take it by assault, he was eventually forced to abandon the idea, and
for a very important reason. Soult had joined King Joseph, and the
combined army was on its way to Madrid. He had wasted a precious month,
time which the French had used to full advantage.
It is related that one of the Irish regiments incurred his displeasure
during the siege, and some of its members asked permission for it to
lead one of the assaults. Their wish was granted, with the result that
nearly all the men laid down their lives in the desperate undertaking.
When Wellington passed a little later, a soldier who had lost both
his legs saluted and cried, “Arrah, maybe ye’r satisfied now, you
hooky-nosed vagabond!” The Commander could not restrain a smile, and
promptly sent assistance. The Irishman ended his days in Chelsea
Hospital.
Sending word to Hill to abandon Madrid and meet him on the Tormes,
Wellington skilfully withdrew his men from Burgos, and although his
rear-guard was much harassed by Souham’s troops, he formed a junction
with his lieutenant near the battlefield of Salamanca. On arrival
on the Tormes they were almost face to face with the united army,
but divided counsels reigned, and he skilfully eluded the French,
although they turned his position. Aided by a dense fog, Wellington
managed to slip away unperceived. After a sharp engagement at a ford
of the Huebra, the pursuers abandoned the attempt to secure the roads
to Ciudad Rodrigo, which place was reached by Wellington on the 18th
November. Soult retired to Toledo, Souham to Valladolid, and Joseph to
Segovia.
A pen-sketch of the men during this terrible retreat tells us that
“such a set of scare-crows never was seen. It was difficult to say what
they were, as the men’s coats were patched with grey, some had blankets
over them, and most were barefooted; every step they took was up to
the knees in mud; women and sick men were actually sticking in it....
A brigade of cavalry, however, which was covering the rear, had left
Lisbon but a short time before, and was in high order. The clothing of
the men scarcely soiled, and the horses sleek and fat, made a strange
contrast with the others, especially the company of artillery that had
served in the batteries before Burgos. We at first took the latter for
prisoners, as they were mostly in French clothing, many of them riding
in the carriages with the sick and wounded, drawn, some by oxen, and
some by mules and horses. I never saw British soldiers in such a state.”
Wellington and his men then went into cantonments, the former making
his headquarters at Freneda. Much was done to improve the _morale_ of
the troops, who had got into a very insubordinate state. Reinforcements
came to hand, and Wellington worked hard to reorganize the Spanish
army, of which he had been appointed Generalissimo after the battle of
Salamanca. He had also been raised to the rank of Marquis, thanked by
both Houses of Parliament, and presented with £100,000. He paid a visit
to the Cortes, made a speech, and wrote a long letter to one of the
Deputies in which he criticized “the powers that be” in no uncertain
way, adding, however, a number of measures which would “give your
Government some chance of standing, and your country some chance of
avoiding farther revolutions.” The whole communication must be studied
to be fully appreciated.[75] “The Government and the Assembly,” he says
in one passage, “instead of drawing together, are like two independent
powers, jealous and afraid of each other; and the consequence is,
that the machine of Government is at a stand. To this add that the
whole system is governed by little local views, as propounded by the
daily press of Cadiz, of all others the least enlightened and the most
licentious.” “I will fight for Spain as long as she is the enemy of
France, whatever may be her system of government,” he adds, “but I
cannot avoid seeing and lamenting the evils which await the country
if you do not retrace your steps, let what will be the result of the
military operations of the war....”
He advised the establishment of a permanent Regency, “with all the
powers allotted by the constitution to the King, in the hands of one
person.” He, or she, should be aided by a Council, whose five members
should superintend the Department de Estado, the Interior and Ultramar,
Gracia y Justicia, Hacienda, and of War and of Marine respectively,
each being responsible for the department under his superintendence. He
suggested either turning “the Council of State into a House of Lords,”
or making “a House of Lords of the Grandees, giving then concurrent
powers of legislation with the Cortes; and you should leave the
patronage now in the hands of the Council of State in the hands of the
Crown.”
In these days of Socialism the following remarks, which occur in
the same letter, are of more than passing interest. “The theory of
all legislation,” he says, “is founded in justice; and, if we could
be certain that legislative assemblies would on all occasions act
according to the principles of justice, there would be no occasion
for those checks and guards which we have seen established under the
best systems. Unfortunately, however, we have seen that legislative
assemblies are swayed by the fears and passions of individuals; when
unchecked, they are tyrannical and unjust; nay, more: it unfortunately
happens too frequently that the most tyrannical and unjust measures are
the most popular. Those measures are particularly popular which deprive
rich and powerful individuals of their properties under the pretence
of the public advantage; and I tremble for a country in which, as in
Spain, there is no barrier for the preservation of private property,
excepting the justice of a legislative assembly possessing supreme
powers.”
In summing up the result of his operations in the field during 1812,
Wellington tells the Earl of Liverpool on the 23rd November, that
notwithstanding adverse criticism in the newspapers, “it is in fact the
most successful campaign in all its circumstances, and has produced for
the cause more important results than any campaign in which a British
army has been engaged for the last century. We have taken by siege
Ciudad Rodrigo, Badajoz, and Salamanca; and the Retiro surrendered. In
the meantime the Allies have taken Astorga, Guadalaxara, and Consuegra,
besides other places taken by Duran and Sir H. Popham. In the months
elapsed since January this army has sent to England little short of
20,000 prisoners, and they have taken and destroyed or have themselves
the use of the enemy’s arsenals in Ciudad Rodrigo, Badajoz, Salamanca,
Valladolid, Madrid, Astorga, Seville, the line before Cadiz, etc.; and
upon the whole we have taken and destroyed, or we now possess, little
short of 3000 pieces of artillery. The siege of Cadiz has been raised,
and all the countries south of the Tagus have been cleared of the enemy.
“We should have retained still greater advantages, I think, and
should have remained in possession of Castile and Madrid during the
winter, if I could have taken Burgos, as I ought early in October, or
if Ballasteros had moved upon Alcarez as he was ordered, instead of
intriguing for his own aggrandizement.
“The fault of which I was guilty in the expedition to Burgos was,
not that I undertook the operation with inadequate means, but that
I took there the most inexperienced instead of the best troops....
I see that a disposition already exists to blame the Government for
the failure of the siege of Burgos. The Government had nothing to say
to the siege. It was entirely my own act. In regard to means, there
were ample means both at Madrid and at Santander for the siege of the
strongest fortress. That which was wanting at both places was means of
transporting ordnance and military stores to the place where it was
desirable to use them.
“The people of England, so happy as they are in every respect, so rich
in resources of every description, having the use of such excellent
roads, etc., will not readily believe that important results here
frequently depend upon 50 or 60 mules more or less, or a few bundles
of straw to feed them; but the fact is so, notwithstanding their
incredulity....”
When Wellington was ready for his 1813 campaign he had 75,000
British and Portuguese at his disposal, and some 60,000 Spaniards,
in addition to the irregular bands which were the bane of the enemy.
The different French armies totalled some 200,000 troops, but it was
deemed necessary to send 40,000 of these, under Clausel and Foy, to
exterminate the _guerilleros_, which was to Wellington’s advantage,
especially as it was impossible for Napoleon, now deeply involved owing
to the disastrous Russian campaign, to send further reinforcements.
Soult was withdrawn, with 20,000 men, to oppose the Russian advance.
By way of further encouragement, Andalusia, Estremadura, Galacia,
and the Asturias no longer sheltered the enemy. The British left
was under Graham, the right under Hill, and the centre under the
Commander-in-Chief. The first marched upon Valladolid, the French
retreating before him, and was joined near Zamora on the 1st June
1813 by Wellington, followed two days later by Hill. The French were
deceived by these movements, for they expected the main attack to be
made from Ciudad Rodrigo and Almeida with the object of occupying
Madrid. This was far from Wellington’s purpose, which was to carry on
the war in the northern provinces, sever the French communications with
the homeland, and force them to withdraw to the Pyrenees. King Joseph
hastily retired from Valladolid and reached Burgos. On the approach of
Wellington to that town, the fortifications were blown up and the enemy
fell back beyond the Ebro.
“When I heard and saw this explosion (for I was within a few miles,
and the effect was tremendous),” Wellington remarks, “I made a sudden
resolution forthwith--instanter to cross the Ebro, and endeavour to
push the French to the Pyrenees. We had heard of the battles of Lützen
and Bautzen and of the armistice,[76] and the affairs of the Allies
looked very ill. Some of my officers remonstrated with me about the
impudence of crossing the Ebro, and advised me to take up the line of
the Ebro, etc. I asked them what they meant by taking up the line of
the Ebro, a river 300 miles long, and what good I was to do along that
line? In short, I would not listen to the advice; and that very evening
(or the very next morning) I crossed the river and pushed the French
till I afterwards beat them at Vittoria.”
“We continued to advance,” writes a soldier of the 71st Regiment
who fought in the battle, “until the 20th of June; when reaching
the neighbourhood of Vittoria, we encamped upon the face of a hill.
Provisions were very scarce. We had not a bit of tobacco, and were
smoking leaves and herbs. Colonel Cadogan rode away, and got us half a
pound of tobacco a man, which was most welcome.
“Next morning we got up as usual. The first pipes played for parade;
the second did not play at the usual time. We began to suspect all
was not right. We remained thus until eleven o’clock; then received
orders to fall in, and follow the line of march. During our march we
fell to one side, to allow a brigade of guns to pass us at full speed.
‘Now,’ said my comrades, ‘we will have work to do before night.’ We
crossed a river, and, as we passed through a village, we saw, on the
other side of the road, the French camp, and their fires still burning,
just as they had left them. Not a shot had been fired at this time. We
observed a large Spanish column moving along the heights on our right.
We halted, and drew up in column. Orders were given to brush out our
locks, oil them, and examine our flints. We being in the rear, these
were soon followed by orders to open out from the centre, to allow the
71st to advance. Forward we moved up the hill. The firing was now very
heavy. Our rear had not engaged, before word came for the doctor to
assist Colonel Cadogan, who was wounded. Immediately we charged up the
hill, the piper playing, ‘Hey Johnny Cope.’ The French had possession
of the top, but we soon forced them back, and drew up in column on
the height; sending out four companies to our left to skirmish. The
remainder moved on to the opposite height. As we advanced driving them
before us, a French officer, a pretty fellow, was pricking and forcing
his men to stand. They heeded him not--he was very harsh. ‘Down with
him!’ cried one near me; and down he fell, pierced by more than one
ball.
“Scarce were we upon the height, when a heavy column, dressed in
great-coats, with white covers on their hats, exactly resembling
the Spanish, gave us a volley, which put us to the right about at
double-quick time down the hill, the French close behind, through the
whins. The four companies got the word the French were on them. They
likewise thought them Spaniards, until they got a volley that killed
or wounded almost every one of them. We retired to the height, covered
by the 50th, who gave the pursuing column a volley which checked their
speed. We moved up the remains of our shattered regiment to the height.
Being in great want of ammunition, we were again served with sixty
rounds a man, and kept up our fire for some time, until the bugle
sounded to cease firing....
“At this time the Major had the command, our second Colonel being
wounded. There were not 300 of us on the height able to do duty, out of
above 1000 who drew rations in the morning. The cries of the wounded
were most heart-rending.
“The French, on the opposite height, were getting under arms; we could
give no assistance, as the enemy appeared to be six to one of us. Our
orders were to maintain the height while there was a man of us. The
word was given to shoulder arms. The French, at the same moment, got
under arms. The engagement began in the plains. The French were amazed,
and soon put to the right about, through Vittoria. We followed, as
quick as our weary limbs could carry us. Our legs were full of thorns,
and our feet bruised upon the roots of the trees. Coming to a bean
field at the bottom of the heights, immediately the column was broke,
and every man filled his haversack. We continued to advance until it
was dark, and then encamped on a height above Vittoria.... I had fired
108 rounds this day.”
According to the official figures the British lost 740 men by death
and 4174 were wounded, out of a total strength of 80,000. The captures
included 151 guns, 415 caissons, 14,249 rounds of ammunition, nearly
2,000,000 musket ball cartridges, 40,668 lbs. of gunpowder, fifty-six
forage waggons, forty-four forge waggons, treasure to the amount of
£1,000,000, pictures by Velasquez and other masters, jewellery, public
and private baggage. King Joseph’s carriage, and Jourdan’s bâton. The
last-mentioned was given by Wellington to the Prince Regent, who with
becoming fitness sent the donor a Field-Marshal’s bâton. The French had
65,000 men engaged in the battle of Vittoria, of whom some 6000 were
killed and wounded, and 1000 taken prisoners.
The defeated army crossed the Pyrenees and marched to Bayonne, where it
was joined by the troops under Foy and Clausel, who had been pursued
by the Allies. “To hustle the French out of Spain before they were
reinforced,” had been Wellington’s object, and he had carried it out
completely. As the garrisons of the fortresses of Pampeluna and San
Sebastian had been strengthened, the former by Joseph and the latter
by Foy, during their retreat, Wellington now turned his attention to
them. Although the army under Suchet was the only one now left in
the Peninsula, it occupied Catalonia and part of Valencia, and might
therefore attack Wellington’s right flank.
Napoleon was at Dresden when he heard of his brother’s disaster at
Vittoria, and he was in no mood for soft words. He recalled both
Joseph and Jourdan, and gave the command to Soult. “It is hard to
imagine anything so inconceivable as what is now going on in Spain,”
the Emperor writes to Savary on the 3rd July 1813. “The King could
have collected 100,000 picked men: they might have beaten the whole of
England.” He blamed himself for the “mistaken consideration” he had
shown his brother, “who not only does not know how to command, but does
not even know his own value enough to leave the military command alone.”
[Illustration: Flight of the French through Vittoria
Robert Hillingford]
Soult reached Bayonne on the 12th July, and thirteen days later had
marched on Pampeluna with 73,000 troops, bent on relieving one or
other of the fortresses, perhaps both. He attacked the British right
at Roncesvalles and turned the position; Hill was attacked at the head
of the valley of Baztan and was obliged to withdraw. Wellington at
once raised the siege of San Sebastian, which had been carried on by
Sir Thomas Graham, and contented himself by blockading the fortress.
He immediately concentrated his right and centre at Sorauren, near
Pampeluna. The series of fights which took place at this time is known
as the battles of the Pyrenees. On the 27th Wellington arrived, and
a rousing cheer greeted him, which it is said deterred the French
from making anything but a partial attack. Probably the truth of the
matter is that Soult hesitated because he was expecting additional
forces with d’Erlon, for the Marshal was scarcely likely to be overawed
by a greeting. A corporal, unable to restrain his enthusiasm as the
Commander-in-Chief rode along the line, shouted out to the intense
amusement of all, “There goes the little blackguard what whops the
French!”[77]
Soult was pointed out to the General by a spy. “Yonder,” Wellington
is reported to have said, “is a great but cautious general; he will
delay his attack to know the reason of those cheers; that will give
time for my reinforcements to come up, and I shall beat him.” As a
matter of fact, the 6th Division of infantry, to which Wellington had
referred, did arrive, and “bludgeon work,” to use his expression, took
place on the 28th, the anniversary of Talavera. The reinforcements
had scarcely secured their position, their right resting on Orcain
and their left on the heights overlooking the valley of the Lanz,
than a very determined attack was made by the enemy. They were driven
back, and made an attempt on the hill occupied by the 7th caçadores
and Ross’s brigade of the 4th Division. They obtained possession of
it for a short time until driven down. When the battle became general
the 10th Portuguese regiment was overpowered, necessitating the
withdrawal of Ross. Wellington then ordered two regiments to charge
the enemy on the heights and those on the left, with the result that
the French were “driven down with immense loss.” “Every regiment,”
says Wellington, “charged with the bayonet, and the 40th, 7th, 20th,
and 23rd, four different times.” Of Wellington’s 16,000 troops he lost
2600 killed and wounded, the French 1800 out of 20,000. The Portuguese
behaved “admirably,” and the Commander-in-Chief “had every reason to
be satisfied with the conduct of the Spanish regiments El Principe and
Pravia.”
By sunset Soult’s attacks had waned, and on the following morning he
began to retreat, although he received reinforcements to the number
of 18,000 troops. On the 30th he attacked Hill to no good effect, and
Wellington forced the French to retire from a strong position they
had taken up. The pursuit continued until the 1st August, when it was
discontinued, for the Allies were in possession of the passes and the
arduous exertion of the troops was beginning to tell upon them.
Wellington again took up his headquarters at Lesaca. Writing to Graham
he says, “I hope that Soult will not feel any inclination to renew
his expedition. The French army must have suffered greatly. Between
the 25th of last month and 2nd of this, they were engaged seriously
not less than ten times; on many occasions in attacking very strong
positions, in others beat from them or pursued. I understand that
their officers say that they have lost 15,000 men. I thought so; but
as _they_ say so, I now think _more_. It is strange enough that our
diminution of strength to the 31st does not exceed 1500 men, although,
I believe, our casualties are 6000.” It was on the 31st that San
Sebastian fell, the castle capitulating shortly afterwards, and the
day is also noteworthy for Soult’s attack on San Marcial, which was
repulsed by Spanish troops, the enemy retiring across the Bidassoa.
Unfortunately, Sir John Murray made no headway against Suchet in
the east of Spain, and was superseded by Lord William Bentinck, who
besieged Tarragona, which his predecessor had evacuated. Although he
was compelled to retire on the approach of the French Marshal, the city
was eventually occupied by the British troops. Their entry into Villa
Franca was marred by the rout of the advanced guard in the pass of
Ordal, necessitating their retreat towards Tarragona.
It is obviously impossible to unravel with any approach to detail the
tangled skein of complicated manœuvres which took place at this period,
perhaps the most trying and exacting of the war in the Peninsula.
Gleig, however, gives one picturesque touch to an involved picture
which reveals more of the personality of the great General than many
pages of military movements, and is infinitely more valuable for
the purposes of a life story. “Lord Wellington,” he records, “after
directing a Spanish column to move up a glen towards a specific point,
looked at his watch, and observed to those about him that it would
take the men so much time to perform the journey. He added that he was
tired, and dismounting from his horse, wrapped himself in his cloak
and went to sleep. A crowd of officers stood round him, and among
others some Spanish generals, whose astonishment at the coolness of
their chief was expressed in audible whispers. For the very crisis of
the struggle was impending, and the French being in greater strength
upon the spot, seemed to have the ball at their foot. Now, among the
officers of the headquarters’ staff, there were several who had never
approved the passage of the Ebro. These began to speak their minds
freely, and one, the bravest of the brave, the gallant Colonel Gordon,
exclaimed, ‘I always thought it would come to this. I was sure we
should make a mess of it, if we got entangled among the Pyrenees, and
now see if my words don’t come true.’ Lord Wellington happened to awake
just as Gordon thus unburdened his conscience. He sat up, and without
addressing himself to anyone in particular, extended his right hand
open, and said, as he closed it, ‘I have them all in my hand, just
like that.’ Not another word was spoken. The Spaniards had reached the
top of the glen; Lord Wellington and his attendants remounted their
horses, and the battle was renewed.”
On the 7th October 1813 Wellington passed the Bidassoa with the left
of his army. Soult was attacked and driven back with the loss of eight
pieces of cannon, taken by the Allies in the captured redoubts and
batteries. The fighting was continued on the following day, after
the fog which obscured the enemy’s position had lifted, when a rock
occupied by the French to the right of their position was carried “in
the most gallant style” by the Spaniards, who immediately afterwards
distinguished themselves by carrying an entrenchment on a hill which
protected the right of the camp of Sarre. Soult withdrew during the
following night, and took up a series of entrenched positions behind
the Nivelle, leaving, as Alison so eloquently puts it, “a vast hostile
army, for the first time since the Revolution, permanently encamped
within the territory of France. And thus was England, which throughout
the contest had been the most persevering and resolute of all the
opponents of the Revolution, and whose government had never yet either
yielded to the victories or acknowledged the chiefs which it had placed
at the head of affairs, the first of all the forces of Europe who
succeeded in planting its victorious standards on the soil of France.”
On the 10th November, a little over a week after the surrender of
Pampeluna through starvation, for the fall of which he had waited
before resuming offensive operations, Wellington, with an army of
about 90,000 men, attacked the enemy’s position, an exceedingly strong
one, the right extending from the sea to St Jean de Luz, the left from
Bidarray to St Jean Pied de Port, the centre between Amotz and Ascain.
The enemy were driven out of the lines and followed over the river,
with a loss of 4200 men and no fewer than 51 guns, the Allies losing
about 2500 killed and wounded.
“Our loss,” says Wellington, “although severe, has not been so great as
might have been expected, considering the strength of the positions
attacked, and the length of time, from daylight in the morning till
night, during which the troops were engaged.” The disorders which
followed the battle were so great that with the exception of a single
division Wellington sent the whole of the Spaniards--some 25,000--back
to the Peninsula.
On the 12th the Marshal was in the entrenched camp at Bayonne, and
six days later the victorious army went into cantonments, where it
remained until the 9th December, when it was ordered to march towards
Bayonne. It forced the passage of the Nive, and a series of engagements
was fought until the 13th, on which date Hill, with one British and
one Portuguese division, fought and won the battle of Saint Pierre.
Wellington came up but refrained from interfering, and when he saw
that his brave colleague had proved victorious, he wrung his hand in a
hearty grip and exclaimed, “Hill, the day is entirely your own.”
In the battles of the Nive the French lost 5800 killed and wounded,
and three German regiments by desertion to the Allies, whose losses
totalled 4600. Soult had now one of two alternatives, either to be
hemmed in at Bayonne or to retreat. He chose the latter, and marched
in the direction of Toulouse with less than 40,000 troops, Napoleon,
now in desperate plight, having withdrawn 10,000 for the defence of the
eastern frontier of France.
Leaving Sir John Hope to blockade Bayonne, Wellington followed Soult,
who took up a position at Orthez, on the right bank of the Gave de
Pau. Early on the morning of the 27th February the battle opened by
Beresford turning the enemy’s right, but he was driven back, as was
Picton, who attacked the enemy’s centre. “_Enfin je le tiens!_--At
last I have him!” exclaimed Soult, but Wellington changed his plan,
and at once sent Hill to cross the river by the ford above Souars and
cut off the Marshal’s retreat by the great road to Pau. At the same
time he ordered two divisions against the right of the enemy’s centre,
and Colborne cut off the division which had checkmated Beresford. The
French under Reille were driven from the heights, and at first retired,
in good order, but Cotton and Lord Edward Somerset charged and spread
considerable confusion in the ranks, while Hill marched on Aire and
attacked Clausel. The Portuguese were repulsed, but the British drove
the enemy from the town with great loss.
Wellington was wounded almost at the end of the battle, which is
perhaps one reason why the pursuit was not so rapid as it might
otherwise have been. However, Beresford was sent with two divisions to
Bordeaux, whose citizens bade them enter, and thereupon proclaimed the
Duc d’Angoulême, eldest nephew of Louis XVIII, who was now with the
British army, as Prince Regent.
The last battle of the Peninsular War was fought on Easter Sunday, the
10th April 1814, at Toulouse, on which Soult’s army had concentrated.
A mistake on the part of an engineer as to the breadth of the Garonne
above Toulouse prevented Wellington from crossing at the spot he had
selected because there were not sufficient pontoons. This caused
considerable delay and a march to a narrower but more difficult
place below the town. Sir George Napier says that he never saw the
Commander-in-Chief in such a rage--he was “furious.” On the completion
of the gangway, Beresford, with a portion of the army, passed over,
drove in the French outposts, and remained in front of the enemy. There
they stopped for three days, cut off from the main force and liable to
attack any moment. This unexpected situation was brought about by a
storm which flooded the river and swept away the pontoons.
Soult is stated to have given this reason for failing to assail
Beresford’s force: “You do not know what stuff two British divisions
are made of; they would not be conquered as long as there was a man of
them left to stand, and I cannot afford to lose men now.”
When the new bridge was available no time was lost in crossing the
river, and on the 10th Soult was attacked. An eye-witness thus records
the event[78]:
“The 4th, 6th, and a Portuguese division under Marshal Beresford’s
orders, attacked the great fort on the right of the French, and here
was the brunt of the battle, for the enemy was strongly posted and
flanked by works, with trenches in their front, and their best troops
opposed to ours. But nothing could damp the courage of this column; the
enemy’s guns poured a torrent of fire upon it; still it moved onward,
when column upon column appeared, crowning the hill and forming lines
in front and on the flanks of our brave fellows who were near the
top; and then such a roll of musketry accompanied by peals of cannon
and the shouts of the enemy commenced, that our soldiers were fairly
forced to give way and were driven down again. This attack was twice
renewed, and twice were our gallant fellows forced to retire, when,
being got into order again and under a tremendous fire of all arms from
the enemy, they once more marched onward determined ‘_to do or die_’
(for they were nearly all Scotch) and, having gained the summit of the
position, they charged with the bayonet, and in spite of every effort
of the enemy, drove all before them and entered every redoubt and fort
with such a courage as I never saw before. The enemy lay in _heaps_,
dead and dying! few, very few, escaped the slaughter of that day; but
‘victory’ was heard shouted from post to post as that gallant band
moved along the crown of the enemy’s position taking every work at the
point of the bayonet.
“While the work of death was going on here, the centre of the French
position was attacked by the Spanish column of 8000 men, under
General Freyre, who had _demanded_ in rather a haughty tone that Lord
Wellington should give the Spaniards the post of honour in the battle.
He acceded, but took special care to have the Light Division in reserve
to support them in case of _accidents_. Old Freyre placed himself at
the head of his column, surrounded by his staff, and marched boldly
up the hollow way, or road, which led right up to the enemy, under a
heavy and destructive fire of cannon shot, which plunging into the
head of his column made great havoc among his men; still they went
steadily and boldly on, to my astonishment and delight to see them
behave so gallantly, and I could not help expressing my delight to
Colonel Colborne. But, alas! he knew them too well, and said to me,
‘Gently, my friend; don’t praise them too soon; look at yonder brigade
of French Light Infantry, ready to attack them as soon as the head of
their column enters the open ground. One moment more and we shall see
the Spaniards fly! Gallop off, you, and throw the 52nd Regiment (which
was in line) into open column of companies, and let these fellows
pass through, or they will carry the regiment off with them.’ He had
scarcely finished the words when a well-directed fire from the French
Infantry opened upon the Spanish column, and instantly the words ‘_Vive
l’Empereur! En avant! en avant!_’ accompanied by a charge, put the
Spaniards to flight, and down they came upon the 52nd Regiment, and I
had but just time to throw it into open column of companies when they
rushed through the intervals like a torrent and never stopped till
they arrived at the river some miles in the rear. As soon as they had
passed, and I had formed the regiment into line again, we moved up and
took the Spaniards’ place, driving before us the enemy’s brigade, who,
being by this time completely beaten on the right and all his forts and
trenches carried by Beresford’s troops, had retreated into the town; so
that we found the fort on that part of the position which we attacked
quite abandoned, and we entered it without loss.
[Illustration: The French Retreat over the Pyrenees
R. Caton Woodville]
“On our right the 3rd Division, under General Picton, was ordered to
make a false attack on the canal bridge, which was strongly fortified
and formed an impracticable barrier to that part of the town; but
General Picton (who never hesitated at disobeying his orders)
thought proper to change this false attack into a real one, and after
repeated and useless attempts to carry it was forced to give it up,
with an immense loss of officers and men. To our extreme right and on
the opposite side of the river General Hill was stationed with his
corps in order to watch the bridge and gates of the town, and either
prevent any attempt of the enemy to pass over a body of troops during
the action to cut off our communications with the rear, or, should he
show any design of retreating that way, to impede him. However, all was
quiet on that side, and now that every man of the enemy’s army had been
chased from the position the battle was won, and the roar of cannon,
the fire of the musketry, and the shouts of the victors ceased. All was
still; the pickets placed; the sentinels set; and the greatest part of
the army sleeping in groups round the fires of the bivouac.”
Soult had only been able to bring some 39,000 men into the field, to
so great an extent had his forces been depleted, while Wellington had
less than 50,000 available troops. Of the French, 3200 were killed
or wounded, of the Allies 4600. On the 12th April Soult evacuated
Toulouse, six days after Napoleon the Great had snatched up a pen and
scrawled his formal abdication. A moment before he had been full of
fight, had wanted to rally the corps of Augereau, Suchet and Soult. A
year later he won back more than these. Wellington entered Toulouse
on the day Soult left it, and within a few hours of the receipt of
the news from Paris of the proclamation of Louis XVIII, a monarch as
incompetent as the fallen Emperor was great. History is oftentimes
ironic, and Time’s see-saw seldom maintains an even balance for any
lengthy period.