Chapter VI: Appendix: , No. I.--Storming of San Sebastian 493 (5)

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.