A history of the Peninsular War, Vol. 6

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Title: A history of the Peninsular War, Vol. 6
Author: Oman, Charles
Language: English
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*** Start of this LibraryBlog Digital Book "A history of the Peninsular War, Vol. 6" ***

TRANSCRIBER’S NOTE

* Italics are denoted by underscores as in _italics_, and small caps
are represented in upper case as in SMALL CAPS.

* Obvious printer errors have been silently corrected.

* Original spelling was kept, but variant spellings were made
consistent when a predominant usage was found.

* To aid referencing places and names in present-day maps and
documents, outdated and current spellings of some proper names
follow:

Abispal (Conde), now Abisbal and La Bisbal,
Agaera (river), now Agüera (río),
Aguilar del Campo, now Aguilar de Campoo,
Albayda,
Albeyda, now Albaida,
Albaracin, now Albarracín,
Albuquerque, now Alburquerque,
Alcanizas, now Alcañices,
Alemtejo, now Alentejo,
Almanza, now Almansa,
Arroyo dos Molinos, now Arroyomolinos,
Aspeytia, now Azpeitia,
Babila Fuente, now Babilafuente,
Ballasteros, now Ballesteros,
Balmaseda, now Valmaseda,
Bastan, now Batzán,
Beassayn, now Beasáin,
Becceril, now Becerril,
Belayos, now Velayos,
Bergara, now Vergara,
Berostigueta, now Berrosteguieta,
Bivar, now Vivar,
Bussaco, now Buçaco,
Caçeres, now Cáceres,
Calvarisa de Abaxo, now Calvarrasa de Abajo,
Calvarisa de Ariba, now Calvarrasa de Arriba,
Castroxeriz, now Castrojeriz,
Consentaina, now Concentaina,
Cordova, now Córdoba,
Corunna, now La Coruña,
Donna Maria,
Doña Maria, now Donamaría,
Douro, now Duero (in Spain),
Douro (in Portugal),
El Orrio, now Elorrio,
Ernani, now Hernani,
Escurial, now El Escorial,
Espadacinda, now Freixo de Espada à Cinta,
Estremadura, now Extremadura (in Spain),
Estremadura (in Portugal),
Exea, now Ejea de los Caballeros,
Exeme, now Ejeme,
Freneda, now Freineda,
Fuente Dueñas,
Fuentedueñas, now Fuentidueña de Tajo,
Garcia Hernandez, now Garcihernández,
Guadalaviar (river), now Turia (río),
Guarena, now Guareña,
La Baneza, now La Bañeza,
La Mota, now Mota del Marqués,
Majorca, now Mallorca,
Moxente, now Moixent,
Pampeluna, now Pamplona,
Passages, now Pasajes,
Penauseude, now Peñausende,
Puycerda, now Puigcerdá,
Requeña, now Requena,
Saguntum, now Sagunto,
Sanguesa, now Sangüesa,
Santa Enferina, now Santa Eufemia del Barco,
Saragossa, now Zaragoza,
Senabria, now Sanabria,
Tagus (river), now Tajo (Spanish),
Tejo (Portuguese),
Torre dem Barra, now Torredembarra,
Valtanas, now Baltanás,
Villa al Campo, now Villalcampo,
Villa Real, now Vila Real,
Villaba, now Villava,
Villadrigo, now Villodrigo,
Villavanez, now Villabáñez,
Vittoria, now Vitoria,
Xucar (river), now Júcar (río),
Yrurzun, now Irurzun,
Zagaramurdi, now Zugarramurdi,
Zamorra, now Zamarra.

* Footnotes have been renumbered into a single series and placed at
the end of the volume.

[Illustration: _Lieutenant-General Sir Rowland Hill, K.G.B._

_from the portrait by G. Dawe, R.A._]

A HISTORY OF THE
PENINSULAR WAR

BY
CHARLES OMAN, K.B.E.

M.A. OXON., HON. LL.D. EDIN.

FELLOW OF THE BRITISH ACADEMY
MEMBER OF PARLIAMENT FOR THE UNIVERSITY OF OXFORD
CHICHELE PROFESSOR OF MODERN HISTORY
AND FELLOW OF ALL SOULS COLLEGE, OXFORD

VOL. VI

SEPTEMBER 1, 1812-AUGUST 5, 1813

THE SIEGE OF BURGOS
THE RETREAT FROM BURGOS
THE CAMPAIGN OF VITTORIA
THE BATTLES OF THE PYRENEES

WITH MAPS AND ILLUSTRATIONS

OXFORD
AT THE CLARENDON PRESS
1922

OXFORD UNIVERSITY PRESS

London Edinburgh Glasgow Copenhagen
New York Toronto Melbourne Cape Town
Bombay Calcutta Madras Shanghai

HUMPHREY MILFORD
Publisher to the University

Printed in England

PREFACE

It is seldom that the last chapter of a volume is written seven
years after the first has been finished; and when this does happen,
the author is generally to blame. I must ask, however, for complete
acquittal on the charge of dilatoriness or want of energy. I was
writing the story of the Burgos Campaign in July 1914: in August the
Great War broke out: and like every one else I applied for service
in any capacity in which a man of fifty-four could be useful. By
September 4th I was hard at work in Whitehall, and by a queer chance
was the person who on September 12th drafted from very inadequate
material the long _communiqué_ concerning the battle of the Marne. For
four years and six months I was busy in one office and another, and
ended up my service by writing the narrative of the Outbreak of the
War, which was published by the Foreign Office in February 1919. My
toils at the desk had just finished when it happened that I was sent
to the House of Commons, as Burgess representing the University of
Oxford, after a by-election caused by the elevation of my predecessor,
Rowland Prothero, to the Upper Chamber. Two long official tours in the
Rhineland and in France combined with parliamentary work to prevent me
writing a word in 1919. But in the recess of 1920 I was able to find
time to recommence Peninsular War studies, and this volume was finished
in the autumn and winter of 1921 and sent to the press in January 1922.

It was fortunate that in the years immediately preceding the Great
War I had been taking repeated turns round the Iberian Peninsula, so
that the topography of very nearly all the campaigns with which this
volume deals was familiar to me. I had marvelled at the smallness of
the citadel of Burgos, and the monotony of the plains across which
Wellington’s retreat of 1812 was conducted. I had watched the rapid
flow of the Zadorra beside Vittoria, marked the narrowness of the front
of attack at St. Sebastian, and admired the bold scenery of the lower
Bidassoa. Moreover, on the East Coast I had stood on the ramparts
of Tarragona, and wondered at the preposterous operations against
them which Sir John Murray directed. But there are two sections of
this volume in which I cannot speak as one who has seen the land. My
travels had never taken me to the Alicante country, or the scene of the
isolated and obscure battle of Castalla. And--what is more important--I
have never tramped over Soult’s route from Roncesvalles to the gates
of Pampeluna, or from Sorauren to Echalar. Such an excursion I had
planned in company with my good friend Foster Cunliffe, our All Souls
Reader in Military History, who fell on the Somme in 1916, and I had no
great desire to think of making it without him. Moreover, the leisure
of the times before 1914 is now denied me. So for the greater part
of the ten-days’ Campaign of the Pyrenees I have been dependent for
topography on the observations of others--which I regret. But it would
have been absurd to delay the publication of this volume for another
year or more, on the chance of being able to go over the ground in some
uncovenanted scrap of holiday.

I have, as in previous cases, to make due acknowledgement of much
kind help from friends in the completion of this piece of work. First
and foremost my thanks are due to my Oxford colleague in the History
School, Mr. C. T. Atkinson of Exeter College, who found time during
some particularly busy weeks to go over my proofs with his accustomed
accuracy. His criticism was always valuable, and I made numerous
changes in the text in deference to his suggestions. As usual, his
wonderful knowledge of British regimental history enabled me to correct
many slips and solecisms, and to make many statements clearer by an
alteration of words and phrases. I am filled with gratitude when I
think how he exerted himself to help me in the midst his own absorbing
duties.

In the preceding volumes of this work I had not the advantage of being
able to read the parts of the Hon. John Fortescue’s _History of the
British Army_ which referred to the campaigns with which I was dealing.
For down to 1914 I was some way ahead of him in the tale of years.
But his volumes of 1921 took him past me, even as far as Waterloo,
so that I had the opportunity of reading his accounts of Vittoria
and the Pyrenees while I was writing my own version. This was always
profitable--I am glad to think that we agree on all that is essential,
though we may sometimes differ on matters of detail. But this is not
the most important part of the aid that I owe to Mr. Fortescue. He was
good enough to lend me the whole of his transcripts from the French
Archives dealing with the Campaign of 1813, whereby I was saved a
visit to Paris and much tedious copying of statistics and excerpting
from dispatches. My own work at the _Archives Nationales_ and the
Ministry of War had only taken me down to the end of 1812. This was
a most friendly act, and saved me many hours of transcription. There
are few authors who are so liberal and thoughtful for the benefit of
their colleagues in study. It will be noted in the Appendix that quite
a large proportion of my statistics come from papers lent me by Mr.
Fortescue.

As to other sources now first utilized in print, I have to thank Mr. W.
S. D’Urban of Newport House for the loan of the diary of his ancestor
Sir Benjamin D’Urban--most valuable for the Burgos retreat, especially
for the operations of Hill’s column. Another diary and correspondence,
which was all-important for my last volume, runs dry as a source after
the first months of 1813. These were the papers of Sir George Scovell,
Wellington’s cypher-secretary, from which so many quotations may be
found in volume V. But after he left head-quarters and took charge of
the newly formed Military Police [‘Staff Corps Cavalry’] in the spring
before Vittoria, he lost touch with the lines of information on which
he had hitherto been so valuable. I owe the very useful reports of the
Spanish Fourth Army, and the Marching Orders of General Giron, to the
kindness of Colonel Juan Arzadun, who caused them to be typed and sent
to me from Madrid. By their aid I was able to fill up all the daily
_étapes_ of the Galician corps, and to throw some new light on its
operations in Biscay.

To Mr. Leonard Atkinson, M.C., of the Record Office, I must give a
special word of acknowledgement, which I repeat on page 753, for
discovering the long-lost ‘morning states’ of Wellington’s army
in 1813, which his thorough acquaintance with the shelves of his
department enabled him to find for me, after they had been divorced
for at least three generations from the dispatches to which they had
originally belonged. Tied up unbound between two pieces of cardboard,
they had eluded all previous seekers. We can at last give accurately
the strength of every British and Portuguese brigade at Vittoria and in
the Pyrenees.

I could have wished that the times permitted authors to be as liberal
with maps as they were before the advent of post-war prices. I would
gladly have added detailed plans of the combats of Venta del Pozo and
Tolosa to my illustrations. And I am sorry that for maps of Tarragona,
and Catalonia generally, I must refer readers back to my fourth volume.
But books of research have now to be equipped with the lowest possible
minimum of plates, or their price becomes prohibitive. I do not think
that anything really essential for the understanding of localities has
been left out. I ought perhaps to mention that my reconstructions of
the topography of Maya and Roncesvalles owe much to the sketch-maps in
General Beatson’s _Wellington in the Pyrenees_, the only modern plans
which have any value.

To conclude, I must express, now for the sixth time, to the compiler of
the Index my heartfelt gratitude for a laborious task executed with her
usual untiring patience and thoroughness.

CHARLES OMAN.

OXFORD,
_June_ 1922.

CONTENTS

SECTION XXXIV

THE BURGOS CAMPAIGN

CHAPTER PAGE

I. Wellington in the North: Burgos Invested. September
1812 1

II. The Siege of Burgos. September 19-October 30, 1812 21

III. Wellington’s Retreat from Burgos. (1) From the Arlanzon
to the Douro. October 22-30 52

IV. Hill’s Retreat from Madrid. October 25-November 6 87

V. Operations round Salamanca. November 1-15 111

VI. Wellington’s Retreat from the Tormes to the Agueda.
November 16-20 143

VII. Critical Summary of the Campaigns of 1812 167

SECTION XXXV

I. Winter Quarters. November-December 1812-January
1813 181

II. The Troubles of a Generalissimo. Wellington at Cadiz
and Freneda 194

III. Wellington and Whitehall 214

IV. The Perplexities of King Joseph. February-April 1813 239

V. The Northern Insurrection. February-May 1813 252

VI. An Episode on the East Coast, April 1813. The Campaign
of Castalla 275

SECTION XXXVI

THE MARCH TO VITTORIA

I. Wellington’s Plan of Campaign 299

II. Operations of Hill’s Column. May 22-June 3, 1813 313

III. Operations of Graham’s Column. May 26-June 3, 1813 322

IV. Movements of the French. May 22-June 4, 1813 334

V. The Operations around Burgos. June 4-14, 1813 346

VI. Wellington crosses the Ebro. June 15-20, 1813 364

VII. The Battle of Vittoria, June 21, 1813: The First Stage 384

VIII. The Battle of Vittoria: Rout of the French 413

SECTION XXXVII

THE EXPULSION OF THE FRENCH FROM SPAIN

I. Wellington’s Pursuit of Clausel. June 22-30, 1813 451

II. Graham’s Pursuit of Foy. June 22-31, 1813 470

III. The East Coast. Murray at Tarragona. June 2-18, 1813 488

IV. Wellington on the Bidassoa. July 1-12, 1813 522

V. Exit King Joseph. July 12, 1813 546

SECTION XXXVIII

THE BATTLES OF THE PYRENEES

I. The Siege of St. Sebastian: the First Period, July 12-25 557

II. Soult takes the Offensive in Navarre. July 1813 587

III. Roncesvalles and Maya. July 25, 1813 608

IV. Sorauren. July 28, 1813 642

V. Soult’s Retreat. Second Battle of Sorauren. July 30 681

VI. Soult Retires into France. July 31-August 3, 1813 707

APPENDICES

I. British Losses at the Siege of Burgos. September 20-October
21, 1812 741

II. The French Armies in Spain. Morning State of
October 15, 1812 741

III. Strength of Wellington’s Army during and after the
Burgos Retreat. October-November 1813 745

IV. British Losses in the Burgos Retreat 747

V. Murray’s Army at Castalla. April 1813 748

VI. Suchet’s Army at Castalla 749

VII. British Losses at Biar and Castalla 750

VIII. Wellington’s Army in the Vittoria Campaign 750

IX. Spanish Troops under Wellington’s Command. June-July
1813 753

X. The French Army at Vittoria 754

XI. British and Portuguese Losses at Vittoria 757

XII. French Losses at Vittoria 761

XIII. Sir John Murray’s Army in the Tarragona Expedition 762

XIV. Suchet’s Army in Valencia and Catalonia. June 1813 763

XV. Spanish Armies on the East Coast. June 1813 764

XVI. The Army of Spain as reorganized by Soult. July 1813 765

XVII. British Losses at Maya and Roncesvalles. July 25,
1813 768

XVIII. British Losses at Sorauren. July 28, 1813 769

XIX. British Losses at the Second Battle of Sorauren and
the Combat of Beunza. July 30, 1813 770

XX. British Losses in Minor Engagements. July 31-August
2, 1813 772

XXI. Portuguese Losses in the Campaign of the Pyrenees 773

XXII. French Losses in the Campaign of the Pyrenees 774

INDEX 775

MAPS AND PLANS

I. PLAN OF SIEGE OPERATIONS AT BURGOS. SEPTEMBER-OCTOBER
1812 _To face_ 48

II. OPERATIONS ROUND SALAMANCA. NOVEMBER 1812 ” 130

III. BATTLE OF CASTALLA ” 274

IV. GENERAL MAP OF NORTHERN SPAIN FOR THE BURGOS
AND VITTORIA CAMPAIGNS _End of volume_

V. PLAN OF THE BATTLE OF VITTORIA _To face_ 434

VI. PLAN OF THE SIEGE OF ST. SEBASTIAN ” 584

VII. GENERAL MAP OF THE COUNTRY BETWEEN BAYONNE
AND PAMPELUNA ” 606

VIII. COMBAT OF RONCESVALLES ” 622

IX. COMBAT OF MAYA ” 636

X. FIRST BATTLE OF SORAUREN. JULY 28 ” 640

XI. SECOND BATTLE OF SORAUREN AND COMBAT OF BEUNZA.
JULY 30 ” 670

ILLUSTRATIONS

PORTRAIT OF SIR ROWLAND HILL _Frontispiece_

KING JOSEPH AT MORTEFONTAINE _To face page_ 544

SECTION XXXIV

THE BURGOS CAMPAIGN

CHAPTER I

WELLINGTON IN THE NORTH: BURGOS INVESTED AUGUST 31ST-SEPTEMBER 20TH,
1812

The year 1812 was packed with great events, and marked in Spain no less
than in Russia the final turn of the tide in the history of Napoleon’s
domination. But the end was not yet: when Wellington entered Madrid in
triumph on August 12th, the deliverance of the Peninsula was no more
certain than was the deliverance of Europe when the French Emperor
evacuated Moscow on October 22nd. Vittoria and Leipzig were still a
year away, and it was not till they had been fought and won that the
victory of the Allies was secure. The resources of the great enemy were
so immense that it required more than one disaster to exhaust them.
No one was more conscious of this than Wellington. Reflecting on the
relative numbers of his own Anglo-Portuguese army and of the united
strength of all the French corps in Spain, he felt that the occupation
of Madrid was rather a _tour de force_, an admirable piece of political
propaganda, than a decisive event. It would compel all the scattered
armies of the enemy to unite against him, and he was more than doubtful
whether he could make head against them. ‘I still hope,’ he wrote to
his brother Henry, the Ambassador at Cadiz, ‘to maintain our position
in Castile, and even to improve our advantages. But I shudder when I
reflect upon the enormity of the task which I have undertaken, with
inadequate powers myself to do anything, and without assistance of any
kind from the Spaniards[1].... I am apprehensive that all this may
turn out but ill for the Spanish cause. If, for any cause, I should be
overpowered, or should be obliged to retreat, what will the world say?
What will the people of England say?... That we made a great effort,
attended by some glorious circumstances; that from January 1st, 1812,
we had gained more advantages for the cause, and had acquired more
extent of territory by our operations than any army ever gained in such
a period of time against so powerful an enemy; but that unaided by the
Spanish army and government, we were finally overpowered, and compelled
to withdraw within our old frontier.’

It was with no light heart that Wellington faced the strategical
problem. In outline it stood as follows. Soult was now known to be
evacuating Andalusia, and it was practically certain that he would
retire on Valencia, where he would join King Joseph and Suchet. Their
three armies would produce a mass of veteran troops so great that even
if every division of the Anglo-Portuguese army were concentrated, if
Hill came up from Estremadura and Skerrett’s small force from Cadiz, it
would be eminently doubtful whether Madrid could be held and the enemy
thrust back. The French might advance 85,000 strong, and Wellington
could only rely on 60,000 men of his own to face them--though he
might scrape together three or four divisions of Spanish troops in
addition[2]. It was true that Suchet might probably refuse to evacuate
his Valencian viceroyalty, and that occupation for him might be found
by utilizing Maitland’s expeditionary force at Alicante, and Elio’s
Murcian army. But even if he did not join Soult and King Joseph in a
march on Madrid, the armies of the South and Centre might put 65,000
men into the field.

But this was only half the problem. There was Clausel’s Army of
Portugal, not to speak of Caffarelli’s Army of the North, to be
taken into consideration. Clausel had some 40,000 men behind the
Douro--troops recently beaten it is true, and known to be in bad order.
But they had not been pursued since the Allied army turned aside for
the march on Madrid, and had now been granted a month in which to
pull themselves together. Nothing had been left in front of them save
Clinton’s 6th Division at Cuellar, and a division of the Galicians at
Valladolid. And now the vexatious news had come that Clausel was on
the move, had chased the Galicians out of Valladolid, and was sending
flying columns into the plains of Leon. It was clear that he must be
dealt with at once, and there was no way to stop his annoying activity,
save by detaching a considerable force from Madrid. If unopposed, he
might overrun all the reconquered lands along the Douro, and even
imperil the British line of communication with Salamanca and Portugal.
If, as was possible, Caffarelli should lend him a couple of divisions
from the Army of the North, he might become a real danger instead of a
mere nuisance.

This was the reason why Wellington departed from Madrid on August 31st,
and marched with the 1st, 5th and 7th Divisions, Pack’s and Bradford’s
Portuguese, and Bock’s and Ponsonby’s dragoons--21,000 sabres and
bayonets--to join Clinton, and thrust back Clausel to the North,
before he should have leisure to do further mischief. There was, as
he conceived, just time enough to inflict a sharp check on the Army
of Portugal before the danger from the side of Valencia would become
pressing. It must be pushed out of the way, disabled again if possible,
and then he would return to Madrid for the greater game, leaving as
small a containing force as possible in front of the Northern army. He
summed up his plan in a confidential letter in the following terms:
‘All the world [the French world] seems to be intending to mass itself
in Valencia; while I am waiting for their plans to develop, for General
Hill to march up from Estremadura, and for the Spanish armies to get
together, I shall hunt away the elements of Marmont’s [i. e. Clausel’s]
army from the Douro. I shall push them as far off as I can, I shall
try to establish proper co-operation between the Anglo-Portuguese
detachment which I must leave on this side and the Galician Army,
and so I shall assure my left flank, when I shall be engaged on the
Valencian side[3].’

Here then, we have a time-problem set. Will it be possible to deal
handsomely with the Army of Portugal, to put it completely out of power
to do harm, before Soult shall have reached Valencia, reorganized
his army, and joined King Joseph in what Wellington considered the
inevitable scheme of a march on Madrid? The British general judged that
there would be sufficient time--and probably there might have been, if
everything had worked out in the best possible way. But he was quite
conscious that events might prove perverse--and he shuddered at the
thought--as he wrote to his brother in Cadiz.

The last precautions taken before departing for the Douro were to
draw up three sets of instructions. One was for Charles Alten,
left in command of the four divisions which remained in and about
Madrid[4], foreseeing the chance of Soult’s marching on the capital
without turning aside to Valencia--‘not at all probable, but it is
necessary to provide for all events.’ The second was for Hill, who
was due to arrive at Toledo in about three weeks. The third was for
General Maitland at Alicante, whose position would obviously be very
unpleasant, now that Soult was known to be evacuating Andalusia and
marching on Valencia to join Suchet and King Joseph. Soult’s march
altered the whole situation on the East Coast: if 50,000 more French
were concentrated in that direction, the Alicante force must be in some
danger, and would have to observe great caution, and if necessary to
shut itself up in the maritime fortresses. ‘As the allied forces in
Valencia and Murcia’--wrote Wellington to Maitland--‘will necessarily
be thrown upon the defensive for a moment, while the enemy will be in
great strength in those parts, I conclude that the greater part of
those forces will be collected in Alicante, and it would be desirable
to strengthen our posts at Cartagena during this crisis, which I hope
will be only momentary[5].’ Another dispatch, dated four days later,
adverts to the possibility that Soult may fall upon Alicante on his
arrival in the kingdom of Valencia. Maitland is to defend the place,
but to take care that all precautions as to the embarking his troops
in the event of ill-success are made. He is expected to maintain it as
long as possible; and with the sea open to him, and a safe harbour, the
defence should be long and stubborn, however great the numbers of the
besiegers[6].

With these instructions drawn out for Maitland, Wellington finally
marched for the North. His conception of the situation in Valencia
seems to have been that Soult, on his arrival, would _not_ meddle with
Alicante: it was more probable that he and King Joseph would rather
take up the much more important task of endeavouring to reconquer
Madrid and New Castile. They would leave Suchet behind them to contain
Maitland, Elio and Ballasteros. It would be impossible for him to lend
them any troops for a march on Madrid, while such a large expeditionary
force was watching his flank. The net result would be that ‘by keeping
this detachment at Alicante, with Whittingham’s and Roche’s Spaniards,
I shall prevent too many of the gentlemen now assembled in Valencia
from troubling me in the Upper Country [New Castile][7].’

Travelling with his usual celerity, Wellington left Madrid on August
31st, was at Villa Castin on the northern side of the Guadarrama pass
on September 2nd, and had reached Arevalo, where he joined Clinton and
the 6th Division on September 3rd. The divisions which he was bringing
up from Madrid had been started off some days before he himself left
the capital. He passed them between the Escurial and Villa Castin, but
they caught him up again at Arevalo early on the 4th, so that he had
his fighting force concentrated on that day, and was prepared to deal
with Clausel.

The situation of affairs on the Douro requires a word of explanation.
Clausel, it will be remembered, had retired from Valladolid on July
30, unpursued. He was prepared to retreat for any length--even as far
as Burgos--if he were pressed. But no one followed him save Julian
Sanchez’s lancers and some patrols of Anson’s Light Cavalry brigade.
Wherefore he halted his main body on the line of the Arlanza, with two
divisions at Torquemada and two at Lerma; some way to his left Foy,
with two divisions more, was at Aranda, on the Upper Douro, where he
had maintained his forward position, because not even a cavalry patrol
from the side of the Allies had come forward to disquiet him. In front
of Clausel himself there was soon nothing left but the lightest of
cavalry screens, for Julian Sanchez was called off by Wellington to
New Castile: when he was gone, there remained Marquinez’s guerrilleros
at Palencia, and outposts of the 16th Light Dragoons at Valtanas:
the main body of G. Anson’s squadrons lay at Villavanez, twenty
miles behind[8]. The only infantry force which the Allies had north
of the Douro was one of the divisions of the Army of Galicia, which
(with Santocildes himself in command) came up to Valladolid on August
6th, not much over 3,000 bayonets strong. The second of the Galician
divisions which had descended into the plain of Leon was now blockading
Toro. The third and most numerous was still engaged in the interminable
siege of Astorga, which showed at last some signs of drawing to its
close--not because the battering of the place had been effective,
but simply because the garrison was growing famished. They had been
provisioned only as far as August 1, and after that date had been
forced upon half and then quarter rations. But the news of the disaster
of Salamanca had not, as many had hoped among the Allies, scared their
commander into capitulation.

Clausel on August 1 had not supposed it possible that he would be
tempted to take the offensive again within a fortnight. His army was
in a most dilapidated condition, and he was prepared to give way
whenever pressed. It was not that his numbers were so very low, for on
August 1st the Army of Portugal only counted 10,000 less effectives
than on July 15th. Though it had lost some 14,000 men in the Salamanca
campaign, it had picked up some 4,000 others from the dépôt at
Valladolid, from the many small garrisons which it had drawn in during
its retreat, and from drafts found at Burgos.[9] Its loss in cavalry
had been fully repaired by the arrival of Chauvel’s two regiments from
the Army of the North, and most of the fugitives and marauders who
had been scattered over the countryside after the battle of July 22nd
gradually drifted back to their colours. It was not so much numbers
as spirit that was wanting in the Army of Portugal. On August 6
Clausel wrote to the Minister of War at Paris that he had halted in a
position where he could feed the troops, give them some days of repose,
and above all re-establish their morale[10]. ‘I must punish some of
the men, who are breaking out in the most frightful outrages, and so
frighten the others by an example of severity; above all I must put
an end to a desire, which they display too manifestly, to recross the
Ebro, and get back nearer to the French frontier. It is usual to see an
army disheartened after a check: but it would be hard to find one whose
discouragement is greater than that of these troops: and I cannot, and
ought not, to conceal from you that there has been prevailing among
them for some time a very bad spirit. Disorders and revolting excesses
have marked every step of our retreat. I shall employ all the means
in my power to transform the dispositions of the soldiers, and to put
an end to the deplorable actions which daily take place under the
very eyes of officers of all grades--actions which the latter fail to
repress.’

Clausel was as good as his word, and made many and severe examples,
shooting (so he says) as many as fifty soldiers found guilty of
murders, assaults on officers, and other excesses[11]. It is probable,
however, that it was not so much his strong punitive measures which
brought about an improved discipline in the regiments, as the fortnight
of absolutely undisturbed repose which they enjoyed from the 1st to the
14th of August. The feeling of demoralization caused by the headlong
and disorderly retreat from Salamanca died down, as it became more and
more certain that the pursuit was over, and that there was no serious
hostile force left within many miles of the line of the Arlanza. The
obsession of being hunted by superior forces had been the ruinous
thing: when this terror was withdrawn, and when the more shattered
regiments had been re-formed into a smaller number of battalions, and
provided in this fashion with their proper proportion of officers[12],
the troops began to realize that they still formed a considerable
army, and that they had been routed, but not absolutely put out of
action, by the Salamanca disaster.

Yet their morale had been seriously shaken; there was still a want of
officers; a number of the rejoining fugitives had come in without arms
or equipment; while others had been heard of, but had not yet reported
themselves at their regimental head-quarters. It therefore required
considerable hardihood on Clausel’s part to try an offensive move, even
against a skeleton enemy. His object was primarily to bring pressure
upon the allied rear, in order to relieve King Joseph from Wellington’s
attentions. He had heard that the whole of the Anglo-Portuguese army,
save a negligible remnant, had marched on Madrid; but he was not sure
that the Army of the Centre might not make some endeavour to save the
capital, especially if it had been reinforced from Estremadura by
Drouet. Clausel knew that the King had repeatedly called for succours
from the South; it was possible that they might have been sent at the
last moment. If they had come up, and if Wellington could be induced
to send back two or three divisions to the Douro, Madrid might yet be
saved. The experiment was worth risking, but it must take the form of
a demonstration rather than a genuine attack upon Wellington’s rear.
The Army of Portugal was still too fragile an instrument to be applied
to heavy work. Indeed, when he moved, Clausel left many shattered
regiments behind, and only brought 25,000 men to the front.

There was a second object in Clausel’s advance: he hoped to save the
garrisons of Astorga, Toro, and Zamora, which amounted in all to over
3,000 men. Each of the first two was being besieged by a Spanish
division, the third by Silveira’s Portuguese militia. The French
general judged that none of the investing forces was equal to a fight
in the open with a strong flying column of his best troops. Even if
all three could get together, he doubted if they dared face two French
divisions. His scheme was to march on Valladolid with his main body,
and drive out of it the small Spanish force in possession, while
Foy--his senior division-commander--should move rapidly across country
with some 8,000 men, and relieve by a circular sweep first Toro, then
Astorga, then Zamora. The garrisons were to be brought off, the places
blown up: it was useless to dream of holding them, for Wellington would
probably come to the Douro again in force, the sieges would recommence,
and no second relief would be possible in face of the main British army.

On August 13th a strong French cavalry reconnaissance crossed the
Arlanza and drove in the guerrilleros from Zevico: on the following day
infantry was coming up from the rear, pushing forward on the high-road
from Torquemada to Valladolid. Thereupon Anson, on that evening, sent
back the main body of his light dragoons beyond the Douro, leaving only
two squadrons as a rearguard at Villavanez. The Galician division in
Valladolid also retired by the road of Torrelobaton and Castronuevo
on Benavente. Santocildes--to Wellington’s disgust when it reached
his ears--abandoned in Valladolid not only 400 French convalescents
in hospital, but many hundred stand of small arms, which had been
collected there from the prisoners taken during the retreat of Clausel
in the preceding month. This was inexcusable carelessness, as there was
ample time to destroy them, if not to carry them off. French infantry
entered Valladolid on the 14th and 15th, apparently about 12,000
strong: their cavalry, a day’s march ahead, had explored the line of
the Douro from Simancas to Tudela, and found it watched by G. Anson’s
pickets all along that front.

The orders left behind by Wellington on August 5th, had been that if
Clausel came forward--which he had not thought likely--G. Anson was
to fall back to the Douro, and if pressed again to join Clinton’s
division at Cuellar. The retreat of both of them was to be on Segovia
in the event of absolute necessity. On the other hand, if the French
should try to raise the sieges of Astorga or Zamora, Santocildes and
Silveira were to go behind the Esla[13]. Clausel tried both these moves
at once, for on the same day that he entered Valladolid he had turned
off Foy with two divisions--his own and Taupin’s (late Ferey’s)--and a
brigade of Curto’s _chasseurs_, to march on Toro by the road through
Torrelobaton. The troops in Valladolid served to cover this movement:
they showed a division of infantry and 800 horse in front of Tudela
on the 16th, and pushed back Anson’s light dragoons to Montemayor, a
few miles beyond the Douro. But this was only a demonstration: their
cavalry retired in the evening, and Anson reoccupied Tudela on the
20th. It soon became clear that Clausel was not about to cross the
Douro in force, and was only showing troops in front of Valladolid in
order to keep Anson and Clinton anxious. He remained there with some
12,000 or 15,000 men from August 14th till September 7th, keeping very
quiet, and making no second attempt to reconnoitre beyond the Douro.
Anson, therefore, watched the line of the river, with his head-quarters
at Valdestillas, for all that time, while the guerrilleros of Saornil
and Principe went over to the northern bank and hung around Clausel’s
flank. Clinton, on his own initiative, moved his division from Cuellar
to Arevalo, which placed him on the line of the road to Madrid via the
Guadarrama, instead of that by Segovia. This Wellington afterwards
declared to be a mistake: he had intended to keep the 6th Division more
to the right, apparently in order that it might cross the Douro above
Valladolid if required[14]. It should not have moved farther southward
than Olmedo.

Foy meanwhile, thus covered by Clausel, made a march of surprising
celerity. On the 17th he arrived at Toro, and learned that the
Galicians blockading that place had cleared off as early as the 15th,
and had taken the road for Benavente. He blew up the fort, and took
on with him the garrison of 800 men. At Toro he was much nearer to
Zamora than to Astorga, but he resolved to march first on the remoter
place--it was known to be hard pressed, and the French force there
blockaded was double that in Zamora. He therefore moved on Benavente
with all possible speed, and crossed the Esla there, driving away a
detachment of the Galician division (Cabrera’s) which had come from
Valladolid, when it made an ineffectual attempt to hold the fords. On
the 20th August he reached La Baneza, some sixteen miles from Astorga,
and there received the tiresome news that the garrison had surrendered
only thirty-six hours before to Castaños. The three battalions there,
worn down by famine to 1,200 men, had capitulated, because they had no
suspicion that any help was near. The Spanish general had succeeded in
concealing from them all knowledge of Foy’s march. They laid down their
arms on the 18th, and were at once marched off to Galicia: Castaños
himself accompanied them with all his force, being fully determined not
to fight Foy, even though his numbers were superior.

The French cavalry pushed on to Astorga on the 21st, and found the
gates open and the place empty, save for seventy sick of the late
garrison, who had been left behind under the charge of a surgeon.
It was useless to think of pursuing Castaños, who had now two days’
start, wherefore Foy turned his attention to Zamora. Here Silveira,
though warned to make off when the enemy reached Toro, had held on
to the last moment, thinking that he was safe when Foy swerved away
toward Astorga. He only drew off when he got news on the 22nd, from Sir
Howard Douglas, the British Commissioner with the Galician army, to the
effect that Foy, having failed to save Astorga, was marching against
him. He retired to Carvajales behind the Esla, but was not safe there,
for the French general, turning west from Benavente, had executed a
forced march for Tabara, and was hastening westward to cut in between
Carvajales and the road to Miranda de Douro on the Portuguese frontier.
Warned only just in time of this move, Silveira hurried off towards his
own country, and was within one mile of its border when Foy’s advanced
cavalry came up with his rearguard near Constantin, the last village
in Spain. They captured his baggage and some stragglers, but made no
serious endeavour to charge his infantry, which escaped unharmed to
Miranda. Foy attributed this failure to Curto, the commander of the
light horse: ‘le défaut de décision et l’inertie coupable du général
commandant la cavalerie font perdre les fruits d’une opération bien
combinée’ (August 23rd)[15]. This pursuit had drawn Foy very far
westward; his column turning back, only reached Zamora on August
26th: here he drew off the garrison and destroyed the works. He states
that his next move would have been a raid on Salamanca, where lay not
only the British base hospital, but a vast accumulation of stores,
unprotected by any troops whatever. But he received at Zamora, on the
27th, urgent orders from Clausel to return to Valladolid, as Wellington
was coming up against him from Madrid with his whole army. Accordingly
Foy abandoned his plan, and reached Tordesillas, with his troops in a
very exhausted condition from hard marching, on August 28th. Clausel
had miscalculated dates--warned of the first start of the 1st and
7th Divisions from Madrid, he had supposed that they would be at
Arevalo some days before they actually reached it on September 4th.
Foy was never in any real danger, and there had been time to spare.
His excursion undoubtedly raised the spirit of the Army of Portugal:
it was comforting to find that the whole of the Galicians would not
face 8,000 French troops, and that the plains of Leon could be overrun
without opposition by such a small force. On his return to join the
main body Foy noted in his diary that Clausel had been very inert in
face of Anson and Clinton, and wrote that he himself would have tried
a more dashing policy--and might possibly have failed in it, owing to
the discouragement and apathy still prevailing among many of the senior
officers of the Army of Portugal[16].

Wellington had received the news of Clausel’s advance on Valladolid as
early as August 18th, and was little moved by it. Indeed he expressed
some pleasure at the fact. ‘I think,’ he wrote to Lord Bathurst, ‘that
the French mean to carry off the garrisons from Zamora and Toro, which
I hope they will effect, as otherwise I must go and take them. If I do
not, nobody else will, as is evident from what has been passing for the
last two months at Astorga[17].’ He expressed his pleasure on hearing
that Santocildes had retired behind the Esla without fighting, for he
had feared that he might try to stop Foy and get beaten. It was only,
as we have already seen, after he obtained practical certainty that
Soult had evacuated Andalusia, so that no expedition to the South would
be necessary, that he turned his mind to Clausel‘s doings. And his
march to Arevalo and Valladolid was intended to be a mere excursion for
a few weeks, preparatory to a return to New Castile to face Soult and
King Joseph, when they should become dangerous. From Arevalo he wrote
to Castaños to say that ‘it was necessary to drive off Marmont’s (i.e.
Clausel’s) army without loss of time, so as to make it possible to turn
the whole of his forces eventually against Soult.’ He should press the
movement so far forward as he could; perhaps he might even lay siege
to Burgos. But the Army of Galicia must come eastward again without
delay, and link up its operations with the Anglo-Portuguese. He hoped
to have retaken Valladolid by September 6th, and wished to see Castaños
there, with the largest possible force that he could gather, on that
date[18]. The Galician army had returned to Astorga on August 27th, and
so far as distances went, there was nothing to prevent it from being at
Valladolid eleven days after, if it took the obvious route by Benavente
and Villalpando.

The troops from Madrid having joined Clinton and the 6th Division
at Arevalo, Wellington had there some 28,000 men collected for the
discomfiture of Clausel, a force not much more numerous than that which
the French general had concentrated behind the Douro, for Foy was now
back at Tordesillas, and the whole Army of Portugal was in hand, save
certain depleted and disorganized regiments which had been left behind
in the province of Burgos. But having the advantage of confidence, and
knowing that his enemy must still be suffering from the moral effects
of Salamanca, the British general pushed on at once, not waiting for
the arrival on the scene of the Galicians. On the 4th the army marched
to Olmedo, on the 5th to Valdestillas, on the 6th to Boecillo, from
whence it advanced to the Douro and crossed it by various fords between
Tudela and Puente de Duero--the main body taking that of Herrera. The
French made no attempt to defend the line of the river, but--rather
to Wellington’s surprise--were found drawn up as if for battle a few
miles beyond it, their right wing holding the city of Valladolid, whose
outskirts had been put in a state of defence, their left extending to
the ground about the village of La Cisterniga. No attempt was made
to dislodge them with the first divisions that came up: Wellington
preferred to wait for his artillery and his reserves; the process
of filing across the fords had been tedious, and occupied the whole
afternoon.

On this Clausel had calculated: he was only showing a front in
order to give his train time to move to the rear, and to allow his
right wing (Foy) at Simancas and Tordesillas to get away. A prompt
evacuation of Valladolid would have exposed it to be cut off. On the
following morning the French had disappeared from La Cisterniga, but
Valladolid was discovered to be still held by an infantry rearguard.
This, when pushed, retired and blew up the bridge over the Pisuerga
on the opposite side of the city, before the British cavalry could
seize it. The critics thought that Clausel might have been hustled
with advantage, both on the 6th and on the morning of the 7th, and
that Foy might have been cut off from the main body by rapid action
on the first day[19]. Wellington’s cautious movements may probably be
explained by the fact that an attack on Clausel on the 6th would have
involved fighting among the suburbs and houses of Valladolid, which
would have been costly, and he had no wish to lose men at a moment when
the battalion-strengths were very low all through the army. Moreover,
the capture of Valladolid would not have intercepted the retreat of the
French at Simancas, but only have forced them to retire by parallel
roads northward. At the same time it must be owned that any loss of
life involved in giving Clausel a thorough beating on this day would
have been justified later on. He had only some 15,000 men in line, not
having his right-wing troops with him that day. If the Army of Portugal
had been once more attacked and scattered, it would not have been able
to interfere in the siege of Burgos, where Wellington was, during the
next few weeks, to lose as many men as a general action would have
cost. But this no prophet could have foreseen on September 6th.

It cannot be said that Wellington’s pursuit of Clausel was pressed
with any earnestness. On the 8th his advanced cavalry were no farther
forward than Cabezon, seven miles in front of Valladolid, and it
was not till the 9th that the 6th Division, leading the infantry,
passed that same point. Wellington himself, with the main body of his
infantry, remained at Valladolid till the 10th. His dispatches give
no further explanation for this delay than that the troops which had
come from Madrid were fatigued, and sickly, from long travel in the
hot weather, and that he wished to have assurance of the near approach
of the Army of Galicia, which was unaccountably slow in moving forward
from Astorga[20]. Meanwhile he took the opportunity of his stay in
Valladolid to command, and be present at, a solemn proclamation of the
March Constitution. This was a prudent act; for though the ceremony
provoked no enthusiasm whatever in the city[21], where there were
few Liberals in existence, it was a useful demonstration against
calumnies current in Cadiz, to the effect that he so much disliked the
Constitution that he was conspiring with the _serviles_, and especially
with Castaños, to ignore or even to overthrow it.

While Wellington halted at Valladolid, Clausel had established himself
at Dueñas, fifteen miles up the Pisuerga. He retired from thence,
however, on the 10th, when the 6th Division and Anson’s cavalry pressed
in his advanced posts, and Wellington’s head-quarters were at Dueñas
next day. From thence reconnaissances were sent out both on the Burgos
and the Palencia roads. The latter city was found unoccupied and--what
was more surprising--not in the least damaged by the retreating enemy.
The whole of Clausel’s army had marched on the Burgos road, and its
rearguard was discovered in front of Torquemada that evening. The
British army followed, leaving Palencia on its left, and head-quarters
were at Magaz on the 12th. Anson’s light dragoons had the interesting
spectacle that afternoon of watching the whole French army defile
across the bridge of the Pisuerga at Torquemada, under cover of a
brigade of _chasseurs_ drawn up on the near side. Critics thought that
the covering force might have been driven in, and jammed against the
narrow roadway over the bridge[22]. But the British brigadier waited
for artillery to come up, and before it arrived the enemy had hastily
decamped. He was pursued as far as Quintana, where there was a trifling
cavalry skirmish at nightfall.

At Magaz, on the night of the 12th, Wellington got the tiresome
news that Santocildes and Castaños, with the main body of the Army
of Galicia, had passed his flank that day, going southward, and had
continued their way towards Valladolid, instead of falling in on the
British line of march. Their junction was thus deferred for several
days. Wellington wrote in anger, ‘Santocildes has been six days
marching: he was yesterday within three leagues of us, and knew it that
night; but he has this morning moved on to Valladolid, eight leagues
from us, and unless I halt two days for him he will not join us for
four or five days more[23].’ As a matter of fact the Galicians did not
come up till the 16th, while if Santocildes had used a little common
sense they would have been in line on the 12th September.

The pursuit of Clausel continued to be a very slow and uninteresting
business: from the 11th to the 15th the army did not advance more
than two leagues a day. On the 13th the British vanguard was at
Villajera, while the French main body was at Pampliega: on the 14th
Anson’s cavalry was at Villadrigo, on the 15th at Villapequeña, on
the 16th near Celada, where Clausel was seen in position. On this day
the Galicians at last came up--three weak divisions under Cabrera,
Losada, and Barcena, with something over 11,000 infantry, but only one
field-battery and 350 horse. The men looked fatigued with much marching
and very ragged: Wellington had hoped for 16,000 men, and considering
that the total force of the Galician army was supposed to be over
30,000 men, it seems that more might have been up, even allowing for
sick, recruits, and the large garrisons of Ferrol and Corunna.

The 16th September was the only day on which Clausel showed any signs
of making a stand: in the afternoon he was found in position, a league
beyond Celada on favourable ground. Wellington arranged to turn his
left flank next morning, with the 6th Division and Pack’s brigade; but
at dawn he went off in haste, and did not stop till he reached Villa
Buniel, near Burgos. Here, late in the afternoon, Wellington again
outflanked him with the 6th Division, and he retreated quite close to
the city. On the 18th he evacuated it, after throwing a garrison into
the Castle, and went back several leagues on the high-road toward the
Ebro. The Allies entered Burgos, and pushed their cavalry beyond it
without meeting opposition. On the 19th the Castle was invested by the
1st Division and Pack’s brigade, while the rest of Wellington’s army
took position across the road by which the French had retreated. A
cavalry reconnaissance showed that Clausel had gone back many miles:
the last outposts of his rear were at Quintanavides, beyond the
watershed which separates the basin of the Douro from that of the Ebro.
His head-quarters were now at Briviesca, and it appeared that, if once
more pushed, he was prepared to retreat _ad infinitum_. Wellington,
however, pressed him no farther: throwing forward three of his own
divisions and the Galicians to Monasterio and other villages to the
east of Burgos, where a good covering position was found, he proceeded
to turn his attention to the Castle.

This short series of operations between the 10th and the 19th of
September 1812 has in it much that perplexes the critical historian.
It is not Clausel’s policy that is interesting--he simply retired
day after day, whenever the enemy’s pursuing infantry came within
ten miles of him. Sometimes he gave way before the mere cavalry of
Wellington’s advanced guard. There was nothing in his conduct to
remind the observer of Ney’s skilful retreat from Pombal to Ponte
Murcella in 1811, when a rearguard action was fought nearly every
afternoon. Clausel was determined not to allow himself to be caught,
and would not hold on, even in tempting positions of considerable
strength. As he wrote to Clarke before the retreat had begun, ‘Si
l’ennemi revient avec toute son armée vers moi, je me tiendrai en
position, quoique toujours à peu de distance de lui, afin de n’avoir
aucun échec à éprouver.’ He suffered no check because he always made
off before he was in the slightest danger of being brought to action.
It is difficult to understand Napier’s enthusiasm for what he calls
‘beautiful movements’[24]; to abscond on the first approach of the
enemy’s infantry may be a safe and sound policy, but it can hardly be
called brilliant or artistic. It is true that there would have been
worse alternatives to take--Clausel might have retreated to the Ebro
without stopping, or he might have offered battle at the first chance;
but the avoidance of such errors does not in itself constitute a very
high claim to praise. An examination of the details of the march of
the British army during this ten days plainly fails to corroborate
Napier’s statement that the French general ‘offered battle every day’
and ‘baffled his great adversary.’ His halt for a few hours at Celada
on September 16th was the only one during which he allowed the allied
main body to get into touch with him late in the day; and he absconded
before Wellington’s first manœuvre to outflank him[25].

The thing that is truly astonishing in this ten days is the
extraordinary torpidity of Wellington’s pursuit. He started by waiting
three days at Valladolid after expelling the French; and he continued,
when once he had put his head-quarters in motion, by making a series
of easy marches of six to ten miles a day, never showing the least
wish to hustle his adversary or to bring him to action[26]. Now to
manœuvre the French army to beyond Burgos, or even to the Ebro, was
not the desired end--it was necessary to put Clausel out of action,
if (as Wellington kept repeating in all his letters) the main allied
army was to return to Madrid within a few weeks, to watch for Soult’s
offensive. To escort the Army of Portugal with ceremonious politeness
to Briviesca, without the loss to pursuers or pursued of fifty men, was
clearly not sufficient. Clausel’s troops, being not harassed in the
least, but allowed a comfortable retreat, remained an ‘army in being’:
though moved back eighty miles on the map, they were not disposed of,
and could obviously come forward again the moment that Wellington
left the north with the main body of his troops. Nothing, therefore,
was gained by the whole manœuvre, save that Clausel was six marches
farther from the Douro than he had been on September 1st. To keep him
in his new position Wellington must have left an adequate containing
army: it does not seem that he could have provided one from the 28,000
Anglo-Portuguese and 11,000 Galicians who were at his disposition, and
yet have had any appreciable force to take back to Madrid. Clausel had
conducted his raid on Valladolid with something under 25,000 men; but
this did not represent the whole strength of the Army of Portugal:
after deducting the sick and the garrisons there were some 39,000 men
left--of these some were disarmed stragglers who had only just come
back to their colours, others belonged to shattered corps which were
only just reorganizing themselves in their new _cadres_. But in a few
weeks Clausel would have at least 35,000 men under arms of his own
troops, without counting anything that the Army of the North might
possibly lend him. To contain him Wellington would have to leave, in
addition to the 11,000 Galicians, at least three British divisions and
the corresponding cavalry--say 16,000 or 18,000 men. He could only
bring back some 10,000 bayonets to join Hill near Madrid. This would
not enable him to face Soult.

But if Clausel had been dealt with in a more drastic style, if he had
been hunted and harassed, it is clear that he might have been disabled
for a long time from taking the offensive. His army was still in a
doubtful condition as regards morale, and there can be little reason
to doubt, that if hard pressed, it would have sunk again into the
despondency and disorder which had prevailed at the beginning of the
month of August. The process of driving him back with a firm hand
might, no doubt, have been more costly than the slow tactics actually
adopted; but undoubtedly such a policy would have paid in the end.

There is no explanation to be got out of Wellington’s rather numerous
letters written between the 10th and the 21st. In one of them he
actually observes that ‘we have been pushing them, but not very
vigorously, till the 16th[27],’ without saying why the pressure was not
applied more vigorously. From others it might perhaps be deduced that
Wellington was awaiting the arrival of the Galician army, because when
it came up he would have a very large instead of a small superiority
of force over the French. But this does not fully explain his slowness
in pursuing an enemy who was evidently on the run, and determined not
to fight. We may, as has been already mentioned, speak of his wish to
avoid loss of life (not much practised during the Burgos operations a
few days later on!) and of the difficulty of providing for supplies in
a countryside unvisited before by the British army, and very distant
from its base-magazines. But when all has been said, no adequate
explanation for his policy has been provided. It remains inexplicable,
and its results were unhappy.

SECTION XXXIV: CHAPTER II

THE SIEGE OF BURGOS. SEPTEMBER 19TH-OCTOBER 20TH, 1812

The Castle of Burgos lies on an isolated hill which rises straight out
of the streets of the north-western corner of that ancient city, and
overtops them by 200 feet or rather more. Ere ever there were kings in
Castile, it had been the residence of Fernan Gonzalez, and the early
counts who recovered the land from the Moors. Rebuilt a dozen times in
the Middle Ages, and long a favourite palace of the Castilian kings,
it had been ruined by a great fire in 1736, and since then had not
been inhabited. There only remained an empty shell, of which the most
important part was the great Donjon which had defied the flames. The
summit of the hill is only 250 yards long: the eastern section of it
was occupied by the Donjon, the western by a large church, Santa Maria
la Blanca: between them were more or less ruined buildings, which had
suffered from the conflagration. Passing by Burgos in 1808, after the
battle of Gamonal, Napoleon had noted the commanding situation of the
hill, and had determined to make it one of the fortified bases upon
which the French domination in northern Spain was to be founded. He had
caused a plan to be drawn up for the conversion of the ruined mediaeval
stronghold into a modern citadel, which should overawe the city below,
and serve as a half-way house, an arsenal, and a dépôt for French
troops moving between Bayonne and Madrid. Considered as a fortress it
had one prominent defect: while its eastern, southern, and western
sides look down into the low ground around the Arlanzon river, there
lies on its northern side, only 300 yards away, a flat-topped plateau,
called the hill of San Miguel, which rises to within a few feet of the
same height as the Donjon, and overlooks all the lower slopes of the
Castle mount. As this rising ground--now occupied by the city reservoir
of Burgos--commanded so much of the defences, Napoleon held that it
must be occupied, and a fort upon it formed part of his original plan.
But the Emperor passed on; the tide of war swept far south of Madrid;
and the full scheme for the fortification of Burgos was never carried
out; money--the essential thing when building is in hand--was never
forthcoming in sufficient quantities, and the actual state of the place
in 1812 was very different from what it would have been if Napoleon’s
orders had been carried out in detail. Enough was done to make the
Castle impregnable against guerrillero bands--the only enemies who ever
came near it between 1809 and 1812--but it could not be described as
a complete or satisfactory piece of military engineering. Against a
besieger unprovided with sufficient artillery it was formidable enough:
round two-thirds of its circuit it had a complete double _enceinte_,
enclosing the Donjon and the church on the summit which formed its
nucleus. On the western side, for about one-third of its circumference,
it had an outer or third line of defence, to take in the lowest slopes
of the hill on which it lies. For here the ground descended gradually,
while to the east it shelved very steeply down to the town, and an
external defence was unnecessary and indeed impossible.

The outer line all round (i.e. the third line on the west, the second
line on the rest of the circumference) had as its base the old walls
of the external enclosure of the mediaeval Castle, modernized by
shot-proof parapets and with tambours and palisades added at the angles
to give flank fire. It had a ditch 30 feet wide, and a counterscarp
in masonry, while the inner enceintes were only strong earthworks,
like good field entrenchments; they were, however, both furnished with
palisades in front and were also ‘fraised’ above. The Donjon, which had
been strengthened and built up, contained the powder magazine in its
lower story. On its platform, which was most solid, was established
a battery for eight heavy guns (_Batterie Napoléon_), which from its
lofty position commanded all the surrounding ground, including the
top of the hill of San Miguel. The magazine of provisions, which was
copiously supplied, was in the church of Santa Maria la Blanca. Food
never failed--but water was a more serious problem; there was only one
well, and the garrison had to be put on an allowance for drinking
from the commencement of the siege. The hornwork of San Miguel, which
covered the important plateau to the north, had never been properly
finished. It was very large; its front was composed of earthwork 25
feet high, covered by a counterscarp of 10 feet deep. Here the work
was formidable, the scarp being steep and slippery; but the flanks
were not so strong, and the rear or gorge was only closed by a row of
palisades, erected within the last two days. The only outer defences
consisted of three light _flèches_, or redans, lying some 60 yards out
in front of the hornwork, at projecting points of the plateau, which
commanded the lower slopes. The artillery in San Miguel consisted of
seven field-pieces, 4- and 6-pounders: there were no heavy guns in it.

The garrison of Burgos belonged to the Army of the North, not to that
of Portugal. Caffarelli himself paid a hasty visit to the place just
before the siege began, and threw in some picked troops--two battalions
of the 34th[28], one of the 130th; making 1,600 infantry. There were
also a company of artillery, another of pioneers, and detachments
which brought up the whole to exactly 2,000 men--a very sufficient
number for a place of such small size. There were nine heavy guns (16-
and 12-pounders), of which eight were placed in the Napoleon battery,
eleven field-pieces (seven of them in San Miguel), and six mortars or
howitzers. This was none too great a provision, and would have been
inadequate against a besieger provided with a proper battering-train:
Wellington--as we shall see--was not so provided. The governor was a
General of Brigade named Dubreton, one of the most resourceful and
enterprising officers whom the British army ever encountered. He earned
at Burgos a reputation even more brilliant than that which Phillipon
acquired at Badajoz.

The weak points of the fortress were firstly the unfinished condition
of the San Miguel hornwork, which Dubreton had to maintain as long as
he could, in order that the British might not use the hill on which it
stood as vantage ground for battering the Castle; secondly, the lack
of cover within the works. The Donjon and the church of Santa Maria
could not house a tithe of the garrison; the rest had to bivouac in
the open, a trying experience in the rain, which fell copiously on
many days of the siege. If the besiegers had possessed a provision
of mortars, to keep up a regular bombardment of the interior of the
Castle, it would not long have been tenable, owing to the losses that
must have been suffered. Thirdly must be mentioned the bad construction
of many of the works--part of them were mediaeval structures, not
originally intended to resist cannon, and hastily adapted to modern
necessities: some of them were not furnished with parapets or
embrasures--which had to be extemporized with sandbags. Lastly, it must
be remembered that the conical shape of the hill exposed the inner no
less than the outer works to battering: the lower _enceintes_ only
partly covered the inner ones, whose higher sections stood up visible
above them. The Donjon and Santa Maria were exposed from the first to
such fire as the enemy could turn against them, no less than the walls
of the outer circumference. If Wellington had owned the siege-train
that he brought against Badajoz, the place must have succumbed in ten
days. But the commander was able and determined, the troops willing,
the supply of food and of artillery munitions ample--Burgos had
always been an important dépôt. Dubreton’s orders were to keep his
enemy detained as long as possible--and he succeeded, even beyond all
reasonable expectations.

Wellington had always been aware that Burgos was fortified, but during
his advance he had spoken freely of his intention to capture it. On
September 3rd he had written, ‘I have some heavy guns with me, and
have an idea of forcing the siege of Burgos--but that still depends
on circumstances[29].’ Four days later he wrote at Valladolid, ‘I am
preparing to drive away the detachments of the Army of Portugal from
the Douro, and I propose, if I have time, to take Burgos[30].’ Yet
at the same moment he kept impressing on his correspondents that his
march to the North was a temporary expedient, a mere _parergon_; his
real business would be with Soult, and he must soon be back at Madrid
with his main body. It is this that makes so inexplicable his lingering
for a month before Dubreton’s castle, when he had once discovered
that it would not fall, as he had hoped, in a few days. After his
first failure before the place, he acknowledged it might possibly foil
him altogether. Almost at the start he ventured the opinion that ‘As
far as I can judge, I am apprehensive that the means I have are not
sufficient to enable me to take the Castle.’ Yet he thought it worth
while to try irregular methods: ‘the enemy are ill-provided with water;
their magazines of provisions are in a place exposed to be set on fire.
I think it possible, therefore, that I have it in my power to force
them to surrender, although I may not be able to lay the place open to
assault[31].’

The cardinal weakness of Wellington’s position was exactly the same
as at the Salamanca forts, three months back. He had no sufficient
battering-train for a regular siege: after the Salamanca experience it
is surprising that he allowed himself to be found for a second time
in this deficiency. There were dozens of heavy guns in the arsenal at
Madrid, dozens more (Marmont’s old siege-train) at Ciudad Rodrigo and
Almeida. But Madrid was 130 miles away, Rodrigo 180. With the army
there was only Alexander Dickson’s composite Anglo-Portuguese artillery
reserve, commanded by Major Ariaga, and consisting of three iron
18-pounders, and five 24-pounder howitzers, served by 150 gunners--90
British, 60 Portuguese. The former were good battering-guns; the
howitzers, however, were not--they were merely short guns of position,
very useless for a siege, and very inaccurate in their fire. They threw
a heavy ball, but with weak power--the charge was only two pounds
of powder: the shot when fired at a stout wall, from any distance,
had such weak impact that it regularly bounded off without making
any impression on the masonry. The only real use of these guns was
for throwing case at short distances. ‘In estimating the efficient
ordnance used at the Spanish sieges,’ says the official historian of
the Burgos failure, ‘these howitzers ought in fairness to be excluded
from calculation, as they did little more than waste invaluable
ammunition[32].’ This was as well known to Wellington as to his
subordinates, and it is inexplicable that he did not in place of them
bring up from Madrid real battering-guns: with ten more 18-pounders
he would undoubtedly have taken the Castle of Burgos. But heavy guns
require many draught cattle, and are hard to drag over bad roads: the
absolute minimum had been taken with the army, as in June. And it was
impossible to bring up more siege-guns in a hurry, as was done at the
siege of the Salamanca forts, for the nearest available pieces were
not a mere sixty miles away, as on the former occasion, but double and
triple that distance. Yet if, on the first day of doubt before Burgos,
Wellington had sent urgent orders for the dispatch of more 18-pounders
from Madrid, they would have been up in time; though no doubt there
would have been terrible difficulties in providing for their transport.
It was only when it had grown too late that more artillery was at last
requisitioned--and had to be turned back not long after it had started.

Other defects there were in the besieging army, especially the same
want of trained sappers and miners that had been seen at Badajoz,
and of engineer officers[33]. Of this more hereafter:--the first
and foremost difficulty, without which the rest would have been
comparatively unimportant, was the lack of heavy artillery.

But to proceed to the chronicle of the siege. On the evening on which
the army arrived before Burgos the 6th Division took post on the south
bank of the Arlanzon: the 1st Division and Pack’s Portuguese brigade
swept round the city and formed an investing line about the Castle.
It was drawn as close as possible, especially on the side of the
hornwork of San Miguel, where the light companies of the first Division
pushed up the hill, taking shelter in dead ground where they could,
and dislodged the French outposts from the three _flèches_ which lay
upon its sky-line. Wellington, after consulting his chief engineer
and artillery officers, determined that his first move must be to
capture the hornwork, in order to use its vantage-ground for battering
the Castle. The same night (September 19-20) an assault, without any
preparation of artillery fire, was made upon it. The main body of the
assailing force was composed of Pack’s Portuguese, who were assisted
by the whole of the 1/42nd and by the flank-companies[34] of Stirling’s
brigade of the 1st Division, to which the Black Watch belonged. The
arrangement was that while a strong firing party (300 men) of the
1/42nd were to advance to the neighbourhood of the horn work, ‘as near
to the salient angle as possible,’ and to endeavour to keep down the
fire of the garrison, two columns each composed of Portuguese, but with
ladder parties and forlorn hopes from the Highland battalion, should
charge at the two demi-bastions to right and left of the salient, and
escalade them. Meanwhile the flank-companies of Stirling’s brigade
(1/42nd, 1/24th, 1/79th) were to make a false attack upon the rear, or
gorge, of the hornwork, which might be turned into a real one if it
should be found weakly held.

The storm succeeded, but with vast and unnecessary loss of life, and
not in the way which Wellington had intended. It was bright moonlight,
and the firing party, when coming up over the crest, were at once
detected by the French, who opened a very heavy fire upon them. The
Highlanders commenced to reply while still 150 yards away, and then
advanced firing till they came close up to the work, where they
remained for a quarter of an hour, entirely exposed and suffering
terribly. Having lost half their numbers they finally dispersed, but
not till after the main attack had failed. On both their flanks the
assaulting columns were repulsed, though the advanced parties duly laid
their ladders: they were found somewhat short, and after wavering for
some minutes Pack’s men retired, suffering heavily. The whole affair
would have been a failure, but for the assault on the gorge. Here the
three light companies--140 men--were led by Somers Cocks, formerly one
of Wellington’s most distinguished intelligence officers, the hero of
many a risky ride, but recently promoted to a majority in the 1/79th.
He made no demonstration, but a fierce attack from the first. He ran
up the back slope of the hill of St. Miguel, under a destructive fire
from the Castle, which detected his little column at once, and shelled
it from the rear all the time that it was at work. The frontal assault,
however, was engrossing the attention of the garrison of the hornwork,
and only a weak guard had been left at the gorge. The light companies
broke through the 7-foot palisades, partly by using axes, partly by
main force and climbing. Somers Cocks then divided his men into two
bodies, leaving the smaller to block the postern in the gorge, while
with the larger he got upon the parapet and advanced firing towards the
right demi-bastion. Suddenly attacked in the rear, just as they found
themselves victorious in front, the French garrison--a battalion of the
34th, 500 strong--made no attempt to drive out the light companies,
but ran in a mass towards the postern, trampled down the guard left
there, and escaped to the Castle across the intervening ravine. They
lost 198 men, including 60 prisoners, and left behind their seven
field-pieces[35]. The assailants suffered far more--they had 421 killed
and wounded, of whom no less than 204 were in the 1/42nd, which had
suffered terribly in the main assault. The Portuguese lost 113 only,
never having pushed their attack home. This murderous business was the
first serious fighting in which the Black Watch were involved since
their return to Spain in April 1812; at Salamanca they had been little
engaged, and were the strongest British battalion in the field--over
1,000 bayonets. Wellington attributed their heavy casualties to their
inexperience--they exposed themselves over-much. ‘If I had had some of
the troops who have stormed so often before [3rd and Light Divisions],
I should not have lost a fourth of the number[36].’

The moment that the hornwork had fallen into the power of the British,
the heavy guns of the Napoleon battery opened such an appalling fire
upon it, that the troops had to be withdrawn, save 300 men, who with
some difficulty formed a lodgement in its interior, and a communication
from its left front to the ‘dead ground’ on the north-west side of the
hill, by which reliefs could enter under cover.

The whole of the next day (September 20) the garrison kept up such a
searching fire upon the work that little could be done there, but on
the following night the first battery of the besiegers [battery 1 on
the map] was begun on a spot on the south-western side of the hill,
a little way from the rear face of the hornwork, which was sheltered
by an inequality of the ground from the guns of the Napoleon battery.
It was armed on the night of the 23rd with two of the 18-pounders and
three of the howitzers of the siege-train, with which it was intended
to batter the Castle in due time. They were not used however at
present, as Wellington, encouraged by his success at San Miguel, had
determined to try as a preliminary move a second escalade, without help
of artillery, on the outer _enceinte_ of the Castle. This was to prove
the first, and not the least disheartening, of the checks that he was
to meet before Burgos.

The point of attack selected was on the north-western side of the
lower wall, at a place where it was some 23 feet high. The choice was
determined by the existence of a hollow road coming out of the suburb
of San Pedro, from which access in perfectly dead ground, unsearched
by any of the French guns, could be got, to a point within 60 yards
of the ditch. The assault was to be made by 400 volunteers from the
three brigades of the 1st Division, and was to be supported and flanked
by a separate attack on another point on the south side of the outer
_enceinte_, to be delivered by a detachment of the caçadores of the
6th Division. The force used was certainly too small for the purpose
required, and it did not even get a chance of success. The Portuguese,
when issuing from the ruined houses of the town, were detected at once,
and being heavily fired on, retired without even approaching their
goal. At the main attack the ladder party and forlorn hope reached the
ditch in their first rush, sprang in and planted four ladders against
the wall. The enemy had been taken somewhat by surprise, but recovered
himself before the supports got to the front, which they did in a
straggling fashion. A heavy musketry fire was opened on the men in the
ditch, and live shells were rolled by hand upon them. Several attempts
were made to mount the ladders, but all who neared their top rungs
were shot or bayoneted, and after the officer in charge of the assault
(Major Laurie, 1/79th) had been killed, the stormers ran back to their
cover in the hollow road. They had lost 158 officers and men in all--76
from the Guards’ brigade, 44 from the German brigade, 9 from the Line
brigade of the 1st Division, while the ineffective Portuguese diversion
had cost only 29 casualties. The French had 9 killed and 13 wounded.

This was a deplorable business from every point of view. An escalade
directed against an intact line of defence, held by a strong garrison,
whose morale had not been shaken by any previous artillery preparation,
was unjustifiable. There was not, as at Almaraz, any element of
surprise involved; nor, as at the taking of the Castle of Badajoz, were
a great number of stormers employed. Four hundred men with five ladders
could not hope to force a well-built wall and ditch, defended by an
enemy as numerous as themselves. The men murmured that they had been
sent on an impossible task; and the heavy loss, added to that on San
Miguel three days before, was discouraging. Many angry comments were
made on the behaviour of the Portuguese on both occasions[37].

Irregular methods having failed, it remained to see what could be
done by more formal procedure, by battering and sapping up towards
the enemy’s defences on the west side of the Castle, the only one
accessible for approach by parallels and trenches. The plan adopted was
to work up from the hollow road (from which the stormers had started on
the last escalade) in front of the suburb of San Pedro. The hollow road
was utilized as a first parallel; from it a flying sap (_b_ on the map)
was pushed out uphill towards the outer _enceinte_ in a diagonal line.
The object was to arrive at it and to mine it (at the place marked I
on the map). When the working party had got well forward, a point was
chosen in the sap at a distance of 60 feet from the wall, and the mine
was started from thence. All this was done under very heavy fire from
the Castle, but it was partly kept down by placing marksmen all along
the parallel, who picked off many of the French gunners, and of the
infantry who lined the parapet of the outer _enceinte_. Sometimes the
return fire of the place was nearly silenced, but many of the British
marksmen fell. The work in the flying sap was made very costly by
the fact that the trench, being on very steep ground, had to be made
abnormally deep [September 23-6].

Meanwhile, on the hill of San Miguel, a second battery (No. 2 on the
map) was dug out behind the gorge of the dismantled hornwork, and
trenches for musketry (_a.a_ on the map) were constructed on the slope
of the hill, so as to bring fire to bear on the flank and rear of the
lower defences of the Castle. The French heavy guns of the Napoleon
battery devoted themselves to incommoding this work; their fire was
accurate, many casualties took place, and occasionally all advance
had to cease. A deep trench of communication between the batteries on
San Miguel and the attack in front of San Pedro was also started, in
order to link up the two approaches by a short line: the ground was all
commanded by the Castle, and the digging went slowly because of the
intense fire directed on it.

Meanwhile battery No. 1 on San Miguel at last came into operation,
firing with five howitzers (the 18-pounders originally placed there had
been withdrawn) against the palisades and flank of the north-western
angle of the outer _enceinte_ of the Castle. These inefficient guns
had no good effect; it was found that they shot so inaccurately and so
weakly that little harm was done. After firing 141 rounds they stopped,
it being evident that the damage done was wholly incommensurate with
the powder and shot expended [September 25]. This first interference
of the British artillery in the contest was not very cheering either
to the troops, or to the engineers engaged in planning the attack on
the Castle. The guns in battery 1 kept silence for the next five days,
while battery 2, where the 18-pounders had now been placed, had never
yet fired a single shot. Wellington was now staking his luck on the
mine, which was being run forward from the head of the flying sap.

This work, having to be cut very deep, as it was to go right under
the ditch, and being in the hands of untrained volunteers from the
infantry, who had no proper cutting tools, advanced very slowly. The
soil, fortunately, was favourable, being a stiff argillaceous clay
which showed no disposition to crumble up: the gallery was cut as if
in stone, with even and perpendicular sides and floor, and no props
or timbering were found necessary. The main hindrance to rapid work,
over and above the unskilfulness of the miners, was the foul air which
accumulated at the farther end of the excavation: many times it was
necessary to withdraw the men for some hours to allow it to clear away.
At noon on September 29 the miners declared that they had reached the
foundations of the wall, and this seemed correct enough, for they had
come to a course of large rough blocks of stone, extending laterally
for as far as could be probed. It is probable, however, that the
masonry was really the remains of some old advanced turret or outwork,
projecting in front of the modern _enceinte_. For when the end of the
mine was packed with twelve barrels, containing 90 lb. of powder each,
well tamped, and fired at midnight, the explosion brought down many
stones from the front of the wall, but did not affect the earth of the
rampart, which remained standing perpendicular behind it. There seemed,
however, to be places, at the points where the broken facing joined
the intact part of the wall, where men might scramble up. Accordingly
the storming-column of 300 volunteers who had been waiting for the
explosion, was let loose, under cover of a strong musketry fire from
the trenches. A sergeant and four men went straight for one of the
accessible points, mounted, and were cast down again, three of them
wounded. But the main body of the forlorn hope and its officer went
a little farther along the wall, reached a section that was wholly
impracticable for climbing, and ran back to the trenches to report that
the defences were uninjured. The supports followed their example. The
loss, therefore, was small--only 29 killed and wounded--but the moral
effect of the repulse was very bad. The men, for the most part, made
up their minds that they had been sent to a hopeless and impossible
task by the errors of an incompetent staff. The engineers declared that
the stormers had not done their best, or made any serious attempt to
approach the wall.

Wellington must by now have been growing much disquieted about the
event of the siege. He had spent ten days before Burgos, but since
the capture of the hornwork on the first night had accomplished
absolutely nothing. There were rumours that the Army of Portugal
was being heavily reinforced, and these were perfectly true. By the
coming up from the rear of drafts, convalescents, and stragglers,
it had received some 7,000 men of reinforcements, and by October 1
had 38,000 men with the colours--more than Wellington counted, even
including the Galicians. Souham was now in command: he had been on
leave in France at the time of the battle of Salamanca, but returned
in the last days of September and superseded Clausel. There had been
in August some intention of sending Masséna back to the Peninsula, to
replace the disabled Marmont. Clarke, the Minister of War, dispatched
him to Bayonne on his own responsibility, there being no time to
consult Napoleon, who was now nearing Moscow[38]. When the Emperor
had the question put to him he nominated Reille[39], but by the time
that his order got to Spain Souham was in full charge of the army, and
was not displaced till the campaign was over. Masséna never crossed
the frontier to relieve him, reporting himself indisposed, and unable
to face the toils of a campaign: his nomination by Clarke was never
confirmed, and he presently returned to Paris. Hearing of the gathering
strength of the Army of Portugal, Wellington remarked that he was
lucky--the French were giving him more time than he had any right to
expect[40] to deal with Burgos. Meanwhile he showed no intention, as
yet, either of abandoning the siege or of taking back to Madrid the
main part of his army, as he had repeatedly promised to do in his
letters of early September. Soult and the King were not yet showing in
any dangerous combination on the Valencian side, and till they moved
Wellington made up his mind to persevere in his unlucky siege. It is
clear that he hated to admit a failure, so long as any chance remained,
and that he was set on showing that he could ‘make bricks without
straw.’

The mine explosion of the 29th-30th had been a disheartening affair;
but Wellington had now resolved to repeat this form of attack, aiding
it however this time by the fire of his insignificant siege-train.
A second mine had already been begun, against a point of the outer
_enceinte_ (II in the map) somewhat to the south of that originally
attacked by the first. This was pushed with energy between September 30
and October 4; but at the same time an endeavour was made to utilize,
for what it was worth, the direct fire of artillery, at the shortest
possible distance from the walls. On the night of September 30-October
1 a battery for three guns (No. 3 in the map) was commenced, slightly
in advance of the 1st Parallel in the Hollow Road, no more than some
sixty-five yards from the French defences. The garrison, not having
been troubled with any battery-building on this front before, suspected
nothing, and at dawn on October 1 the earthwork was completed, and
the carpenters were beginning to lay the wooden platforms on which
the 18-pounders were to stand. With the coming of the light the enemy
discovered the new and threatening work, and began to concentrate upon
it every gun that he could bring to bear. The platforms however were
completed, and at 9 o’clock the artillery hauled the three heavy guns,
which were Wellington’s sole effective battering-tools, into their
places. The sight of them provoked the French to redoubled activity:
shot shell and musketry fire were directed upon the front of the
battery from many quarters, its parapet began to fly to pieces, and
the loss among the artillerymen was heavy. Before the embrasures had
been opened, or a single shot had been fired from the three guns, the
enemy’s fire had become so rapid and accurate that the work had become
ruined and untenable. Two of the 18-pounders had been cast down from
their carriages and put out of action--one had a trunnion knocked off,
the other (which had been hit eleven times) was split in the muzzle.
Only one of the three remained in working order. Without having fired
even once, two of the three big guns were disabled! It was a bad look
out for the future [October 1].

Wellington, however, ordered a second battery to be constructed,
somewhat to the left rear of the first (No. 4 in the map), and behind
instead of before the parallel. The position chosen was one on to which
many of the French guns could not be trained, while it was equally
good with battery No. 3 for playing on the outer _enceinte_. After
midnight [October 1-2] the two disabled and one intact 18-pounders
were dragged out of the abandoned battery and taken to the rear. Next
morning, however, a new disappointment was in store for Wellington: the
French detected battery No. 4, and opened upon it, with all guns that
could reach it, such an accurate and effective fire that the parapet,
though revetted with wool-packs, soon began to crumble, and the workmen
had to withdraw. ‘It became evident that under such a plunging fire
no guns could ever be served there[41].’ All hopes of breaching the
lower _enceinte_ from any point on its immediate front had to be
abandoned--and meanwhile the heavy artillery had been ruined.

The next order issued was that the solitary intact 18-pounder and
the other gun with the split lip--which had been mounted on a new
carriage--should be hauled back to the hill of San Miguel and put into
their original place, battery No. 1. The night during which they were
to be removed was one of torrential rain, and the working parties
charged with the duty gradually dropped aside and sought shelter,
with the exception of those detailed from the Guards’ brigade and
the artillery. At dawn on October 3 the guns had not reached their
destination, and had to be shunted beside the salient of the hornwork,
to hide them from the enemy during the day. Wellington, justly vexed
with the shirking, ordered the defaulters to be put on for extra duty,
and the names of their officers to be formally noted. This day was
lost for all work except that of the mine, which advanced steadily but
slowly, long intervals of rest having to be given in order to allow for
the evaporation of foul air in its inner depths (October 3). On the
following night, however, the 18-pounders were got into battery No. 1,
and about the same time the engineer officers reported that the mine
(now eighty-three feet long) had got well under the wall of the outer
_enceinte_. The 4th of October was therefore destined to be an eventful
day.

At dawn, battery No. 1 opened on the wall, where it had been damaged
by the first mine on September 29th, using the two 18-pounders and
three howitzers. The effect was much better than could have been
expected: the 18 lb. round-shot (of which about 350 were used) had
good penetrating power, and the already shaken wall crumbled rapidly,
so that by four in the afternoon there was a practicable breach sixty
feet long.

Wellington at once arranged for a third assault on the outer
_enceinte_, telling off for it not details from many regiments, as on
the previous occasion, but--what was much better--a single compact
battalion, the 2/24th. Only the supports were mixed parties. At 5 p.m.
the mine was fired, with excellent effect, throwing down nearly 100
feet of the rampart, and killing many of the French. Before the dust
had cleared away, the men of the 2/24th dashed forward toward both
breaches, with great spirit, and carried them with ease, and with
no excessive loss, driving the French within the second or middle
_enceinte_. The total loss that day was 224, of which the assault cost
about 190, the other casualties being in the batteries on San Miguel
and in the trenches. But the curious point of the figures is that
the 2/24th, forming the actual storming-column, lost only 68 killed
and wounded; the supports, and the workmen who were employed to form
a lodgement within the conquered space, suffered far more heavily.
Dubreton reports the casualties of the garrison at 27 killed and 42
wounded [October 4].

In the night after the storm the British, after entrenching the two
breaches, began to make preparations to sap forward to the second
_enceinte_, which being ditchless and not faced with masonry, looked
less formidable than that which had already been carried, though it was
protected by a solid row of palisades. Meanwhile the artillery officers
proposed that battery No. 2 on San Miguel should be turned against a
new objective, the point where the walls of the second and the inner
lines met, immediately in front of the hornwork, in the re-entering
angle marked III in the map. Battery No. 1 was meanwhile to play on the
palisades of the second _enceinte_. This it did with some success. At
5 o’clock in the evening, however, there was an unexpected tumult in
the newly-gained ground. Dubreton, misliking the look of the approaches
which the assailants were beginning to run out from the breaches,
ordered a sortie of 300 men, who dashed out most unexpectedly against
the lodgements in front of the northern breach (No. I), and drove away
the workmen with heavy loss, seizing most of their tools, overthrowing
the gabions, and shovelling earth into the trench. They gave way when
the covering party came up, and retired, having done immense mischief
and disabled 142 of the besiegers, while their own loss was only 17
killed and 21 wounded. This was an unpleasant surprise, as showing the
high spirit and resolution of the garrison; but the damage was not so
great but that one good night’s work sufficed to repair it: the loss
of tools was the most serious matter--the French had carried off 200
picks and shovels which could not be replaced, the stock (as usual in
Peninsular sieges) being very low[42].

On the 6th and 7th the besiegers again began to sap forward towards the
second _enceinte_, with the object of establishing a second parallel on
its glacis, but with no great success. There was little or no effective
fire from the batteries on San Miguel to keep down the artillery of the
besieged, and the work at the sap-head was so deadly that the engineers
could hardly expect the men to do much: however, the trench was driven
forward to within thirty yards of the palisades. So useless were the
howitzers in No. 2 battery that two of them were removed, and replaced
by two French field-pieces from those captured in the hornwork on
September 20; these, despite of their small calibre, worked decidedly
better. The heavy guns in the Napoleon Battery devoted themselves to
keeping down the fire of the two surviving 18-pounders in battery No.
2, and on the 7th knocked one from its carriage and broke off one of
its trunnions. This left only one heavy piece in working order! But
the artisans of the artillery park, doing their best, rigged up both
the gun injured on this day and that disabled on October 1 upon block
carriages, with a sort of cradle arrangement to hold them up on the
side where a trunnion was gone; and it was found that they could be
fired, if a very reduced charge was used. When anything like the full
amount of powder was employed, they jumped off their carriages, as was
natural, considering that they were only properly attached to them on
one side. Of course, their battering power was hopelessly reduced by
the small charge. The artillery diarists of the siege call them ‘the
two _lame_ guns’ during the last fortnight of their employment.

On October 8 Dubreton, growing once more anxious at the sight of the
advance of the trenches toward the second _enceinte_, ordered another
sally, which was executed by 400 men three hours after midnight. It
was almost as successful as that of October 5. The working party of
Pack’s Portuguese and the covering party from the K.G.L. brigade of the
1st Division were taken quite unawares, and driven out of the advanced
works with very heavy loss. The trench was completely levelled, and
many tools carried away, before the supports in reserve, under Somers
Cocks of the 1/79th--the hero of the assault on the Hornwork--came
up and drove the French back to their palisades. Cocks himself was
killed--he was an officer of the highest promise who would have gone
far if fate had spared him, and was the centre of a large circle of
friends who have left enthusiastic appreciations of his greatness of
spirit and ready wit[43]. The besiegers lost 184 men in this unhappy
business, of whom 133 belonged to the German Legion: 18 of them were
prisoners carried off into the Castle[44]. The French casualties were
no more than 11 killed and 22 wounded--only a sixth part of those of
the Allies.

We have now (October 8) arrived at the most depressing part of the
chronicle of a siege which had been from the first a series of
disappointments. After the storm of the lower _enceinte_ on October 4,
the British made no further progress. The main cause of failure was
undoubtedly the weakness of their artillery, which repeatedly opened
again from one or other of the two San Miguel batteries, only to be
silenced after an hour or two of conflict with the heavy guns on the
Donjon. But it was not only the small number of the 18-pounders which
was fatal to success--they had run out of powder and shot; a great
deal of the firing was done with second-hand missiles--French 16 lb.
shot picked out of the works into which they had fallen. The infantry
were offered a bonus for each one brought to the artillery park, and
426 were paid for. More than 2,000 French 8 lb. and 4 lb. shot were
also bought from the men, though these were less useful, being only
available for field-guns, which were of little use for battering. But
in order not to discourage the hunting propensities of the soldiers,
everything brought in was duly purchased. Shot of sorts never wholly
failed, but lack of powder was a far more serious problem--it cannot
be picked up second-hand. There would have been an absolute deficiency
but for a stock got from a most unexpected quarter. Sir Home Popham and
his ships were still on the Cantabrian coast, assisting the operations
of Longa and Mendizabal against the Army of the North. The squadron
had made its head-quarters at Santander, the chief port recovered from
the French, and communications with it had been opened up through
the mountains by the way of Reynosa. On September 26 Wellington had
written to Popham[45] to inquire whether powder could not be brought
from Santander to Burgos, by means of mule trains to be hired at the
port. The Commodore, always helpful, fell in with the idea at once,
and succeeded in procuring the mules. On October 5th 40 barrels of
90 lb. weight each were brought into camp: considering the distance,
the badness of the roads, and the disturbed state of the country, it
cannot be denied that Popham did very well in delivering it only ten
days after Wellington had written his request, and eight days after he
had received it. Other convoys from Santander came later. It is a pity
that Wellington did not think of asking for heavy ship guns at the same
time. But he had written to the Commodore on October 2 that ‘the means
of transport required to move a train either from the coast or from
Madrid (where we have plenty) are so extensive that the attempt would
be impracticable[46].’

The idea of requisitioning ship guns had been started on the very first
day of the siege (September 20) by Sir Howard Douglas, who had lately
come from Popham’s side, and maintained that by the use of draught
oxen, supplemented by man-handling in difficult places, the thing could
be done. But Wellington would hear nothing of it, maintaining that
matters would be settled one way or another before the guns could
possibly arrive. After the disaster to batteries 3 and 4 on October 2nd
he--too late--altered his opinion, and consented that an appeal should
be made to Popham. The Commodore rose to the occasion, and started off
two 24-pounders on October 9th, which by immense exertions were dragged
as far as Reynosa, only 50 miles from Burgos, by October 18th, and had
passed the worst part of the road. But at Reynosa they were turned
back, for Wellington was just raising the siege and preparing to retire
on Valladolid. It is clear that if they had been asked for on September
20 instead of October 3rd--as Howard Douglas had suggested--they and
no doubt another heavy gun or so, could have been brought forward
in time for the last bombardment, and might have turned it into a
success. But guns might also have come from Madrid: Wellington did not
think it wholly impossible to move artillery from the Retiro arsenal.
For, ere he left it on August 31, he had instructed Carlos de España
that the best guns there should be evacuated on to Ciudad Rodrigo,
if ever Soult and King Joseph should draw too close in[47]. It is
true that he observed that the transport would be a difficult matter,
and that much would have to be destroyed, and not carried off. But
it is clear that he thought that _some_ cannon could be moved. The
strangest part of the story is that his own brother-in-law, Pakenham,
wrote to him from Madrid offering to send him twelve heavy guns over
the Somosierra, pledging himself to manage the transport by means
of oxen got in the Madrid district. His offer was rejected[48]. It
seems that the conviction that the Castle of Burgos would be a hard
nut to crack came too late to Wellington. And when he did realize its
strength, he did not reconsider the matter of siege artillery at once,
but proceeded to try the methods of Badajoz and Almaraz, mere _force
majeure_ applied by escalade, instead of thinking of bringing up more
guns. He judged--wrongly as it chanced--that he would either take
the place by sheer assault, or else that the French field army would
interfere before October was far advanced. Neither hypothesis turned
out correct, and so he had the opportunity of a full month’s siege, and
failed in it for want of means that might have been procured, if only
he had made another resolve on August 31st, or even on September 20.
But even the greatest generals cannot be infallible prophets concerning
what they will require a month ahead. The mistake is explicable,
and the critic who censures it over-much would be presumptuous and
unreasonable[49].

But to return to the chronicle of the unlucky days between October
8th and October 21st. The working forward by sap from the third
_enceinte_ towards the second practically stood still, after the second
destructive sally of the French against the new approaches. This is
largely accounted for by the steepness of the ground, which made it
necessary to dig trenches of extraordinary depth, and by the setting
in after October 7 of very rainy weather, which made the trenches
muddy rivers, and the steep banks of earth and breaches so slippery
that it was with great difficulty that parties could find their way
about and move to their posts[50]. But the unchecked power of the
French artillery fire counted for even more, and not least of the
hindrances was the growing sulkiness of the troops. ‘Siege business
was new to them, and they wanted confidence; sometimes they would tell
you that you were taking them to be butchered. The loss, to be sure,
was sometimes heavy, but it was chiefly occasioned by the confused and
spiritless way in which the men set about their work, added to the
great depth we were obliged to excavate in the trenches, to obtain
cover from the commanding fire of the enemy[51].’

Meanwhile the batteries on San Miguel, when they had ammunition, and
when they could put in a few hours’ work before being silenced by the
fire from the Donjon, continued to pound away at the re-entering angle
in the second _enceinte_ (III in the map), and with more effect than
might have been expected, for this section of the defences turned out
to have been built with bad material, and crumbled even under such
feeble shooting as that of Wellington’s ‘lame’ 18-pounders. The French
on several days had first to silence the English battery, and then to
rebuild the wall with sandbags and earth under a musketry fire from the
trenches (_a-a_ in the map) upon San Miguel, from which they could not
drive the sharp-shooters of the besiegers. It was thought later--an _ex
post facto_ judgement--that the best chance of the Allies would have
been to attempt a storm on this breach when first it became more or
less practicable. The delay enabled the besieged to execute repairs,
to scarp down the broken front, and to cut off the damaged corner by
interior retrenchments.

Meanwhile, since doubts were felt as to the main operation of storming
the new breach, No. III, subsidiary efforts were made to incommode
the enemy in other ways. At intervals on the 9th, 10th, and 11th
red-hot shot were fired at the church of Santa Maria la Blanca, where
it was known that the French magazine of food lay. The experience of
the Salamanca forts had led the artillery officers to think that a
general conflagration might be caused. But the plan had no success; the
building proved to be very incombustible, and one or two small fires
which burst out were easily extinguished. Another device was to mine
out from the end houses of the city towards the church of San Roman, an
isolated structure lying close under the south-east side of the Castle,
which the French held as an outwork. Nothing very decisive could be
hoped from its capture, as if taken it could only serve as a base
for operations against the two _enceintes_ above it[52]. But, as an
eye-witness remarked, at this period of the siege any sort of irregular
scheme was tried, on the off chance of success. By October 17 the mine
had got well under the little church. A more feasible plan, which might
have done some good if it had succeeded, was to run out a small mine or
fougasse from the sap-head of the trench in front of breach I to the
palisades of the second _enceinte_. It was a petty business, no more
than two barrels of powder being used, and only slightly damaged an
angle of the work in front when fired on October 17. An attempt to push
on the sap after the explosion was frustrated by the musketry fire of
the besieged.

On the 18th the engineers reported that the church of San Roman was
completely undermined, and could be blown up at any moment. On the
same morning the one good and two lame 18-pounders in battery 2 on San
Miguel swept away, not for the first time, the sandbag parapets and
_chevaux de frise_ with which the French had strengthened the breach
III. They were then turned against the third _enceinte_, immediately
behind that breach, partly demolished its ‘fraises,’ and even did some
damage to its rampart. This was as much as could have been expected,
as the whole of the enemy’s guns were, as usual, turned upon the
battering-guns, and presently obtained the mastery over them, blowing
up an expense-magazine in No. 2, and injuring a gun in No. 1. But in
the afternoon the defences were in a more battered condition than
usual, and Wellington resolved to make his last attempt. Already
the French army outside was showing signs of activity; and, as a
precaution, some of the investing troops--two brigades of the 6th
Division--had been sent forward to join the covering army. If this
assault failed, the siege would have to be given up, or at the best
turned into a blockade.

The plan of the assault was drawn up by Wellington himself, who
dictated the details to his military secretary, Fitzroy Somerset, in
three successive sections, after inspecting from the nearest possible
point each of the three fronts which he intended to attack[53].

Stated shortly the plan was as follows:

(1) At 4.30 the mine at San Roman was to be fired, and the ruins of
the church seized by Brown’s caçadores (9th battalion), supported by
a Spanish regiment (1st of Asturias) lent by Castaños. A brigade of
the 6th Division was to be ready in the streets behind, to support the
assault, if its effect looked promising, i.e. if the results of the
explosion should injure the _enceinte_ behind, or should so drive the
enemy from it that an escalade became possible.

(2) The detachments of the Guards’ brigade of the 1st Division, who
were that day in charge of the trenches within the captured outer
_enceinte_, and facing the west front of the second _enceinte_, were
to make an attempt to escalade that line of defence, at the point
where most of its palisades had been destroyed, opposite and above the
original breach No. I in the lower _enceinte_.

(3) The detachments of the German brigade of the 1st Division, who
were to take charge of the trenches for the evening in succession to
the Guards, were to attempt to storm the breach III in the re-entering
angle, the only point where there was an actual opening prepared into
the inner defences.

From all the works, both those on St. Miguel and those to the west
of the Castle, marksmen left in the trenches were to keep up as hot
a musketry fire as possible on any of the enemy who should show
themselves, so as to distract their attention from the stormers.

The most notable point in these instructions was the small number of
men devoted to the two serious attacks. Provision was made for the use
of 300 men only in the attack to be made by the Guards: they were to
move forward in successive rushes--the first or forlorn hope consisting
of an officer and twenty men, the supports or main assaulting force, of
small parties of 40 or 50 men, each of which was to come forward only
when the one in front of it had reached a given point in its advance.
Similarly the German Legion’s assault was to be led by a forlorn
hope of 20, supported by 50 more, who were only to move when their
predecessors had reached the lip of the breach, and by a reserve of 200
who were to charge out of the trench only when the support was well
established on the rampart.

Burgoyne, the senior engineer present, tells us that he protested all
through the siege, at each successive assault, against the paucity of
the numbers employed, saying that the forlorn hope had, in fact, to
take the work by itself, since they had no close and strong column in
immediate support; and if the forlorn hope failed, ‘the next party,
who from behind their cover have seen them bayoneted, are expected
to valiantly jump up and proceed to be served in the same way.’
He reminded Wellington, as he says, that the garrison at Burgos
was as large as that at Ciudad Rodrigo, where two whole divisions
instead of 500 or 600 men had been thrown into the assault. The
Commander-in-Chief, condescending to argument for once, replied, ‘why
expose more men than can ascend the ladders [as at the Guards’ attack]
or enter the work [as at the breach in the K.G.L. attack] at one time,
when by this mode the support is ordered to be up in time to follow the
tail of the preceding party[54]?’ And his objection to the engineer’s
plea was clinched by the dictum, ‘if we fail we can’t lose many men.’
This controversy originally arose on the details of the abortive storm
of September 22, but Burgoyne’s criticism was even more convincing
for the details of the final assault on October 18. The number of men
risked was far too small for the task that was set them.

The melancholy story of the storm runs as follows. On the explosion of
the mine at San Roman, punctually at 4.30, all three of the sections
of the assault were duly delivered. At the breach the forlorn hope of
the King’s German Legion charged at the rough slope with great speed,
reached the crest, and were immediately joined by the support, led most
gallantly by Major Wurmb of the 5th Line Battalion. The first rush
cleared a considerable length of the rampart of its defenders, till it
was checked against a stockade, part of the works which the French had
built to cut off the breach from the main body of the place. Foiled
here, on the flank, some of the Germans turned, and made a dash at the
injured rampart of the third line, in their immediate front: three or
four actually reached the parapet of this inmost defence of the enemy.
But they fell, and the main body, penned in the narrow space between
the two _enceintes_, became exposed to such an overpowering fire of
musketry that, after losing nearly one man in three, they finally
had to give way, and retired most reluctantly down the breach to the
trenches they had left. The casualties out of 300 men engaged were no
less than 82 killed and wounded[55], among the former, Wurmb, who had
led the assault, and among the latter, Hesse, who commanded the forlorn
hope, and was one of the few who scaled the inner wall as well as the
outer.

The Guards in their attack, 100 yards to the right of the breach,
had an even harder task than the Germans, for their storm was a mere
escalade. It was executed with great decision: issuing from the front
trench they ran up to the line of broken palisades, passed through
gaps in it, and applied their ladders to the face of the rampart of
the second _enceinte_. Many of them succeeded in mounting, and they
established themselves successfully on the parapet, and seized a long
stretch of it, so long that some of their left-hand men got into touch
with the Germans who had entered at the breach. But they could not
clear the enemy out of the _terre-pleine_ of the second _enceinte_,
where a solid body of the French kept up a rolling fire upon them,
while the garrison of the upper line maintained a still fiercer
fusillade from their high-lying point of vantage. The Guards were for
about ten minutes within the wall, and made several attempts to get
forward without success. At the end of that time a French reserve
advanced from their left, and charging in flank the disordered mass
within the _enceinte_ drove them out again. The Guards retired as best
they could to the advanced trenches, having lost 85 officers and men
out of the 300 engaged. The French returned their casualties at 11
killed and 30 wounded.

Wellington’s dispatch, narrating the disaster, gives the most handsome
testimonial to the resolution of both the bodies of stormers. ‘It is
impossible to represent in adequate terms the conduct of the Guards and
the German Legion upon this occasion. And I am quite satisfied that
if it had been possible to maintain the posts which they gained with
so much gallantry, these troops would have maintained them[56].’ But
why were 600 men only sent forward, and no support given them during
the precious ten minutes when their first rush had carried them within
the walls? Where were the brigades to which the stormers belonged?
It is impossible not to subscribe to Burgoyne’s angry comment that
‘the miserable, doubting, unmilitary policy of small storming-parties’
caused the mischief[57]. He adds, ‘large bodies encourage one another,
and carry with them confidence of success: if the Castle of Badajoz
was stormed with ten or twelve ladders, and not more than 40 or 50 men
could mount at once, I am convinced that it was only carried because
the whole 3rd Division was there, and the emulation between the
officers of the different regiments got their men to mount; although we
lost 600 or 700 men, it caused success--which eventually saves men.’

The third section of the assault of October 18, the unimportant attack
on the church of San Roman, had a certain measure of success. The mine,
though it did not level the whole building, as had been hoped, blew up
the terrace in front of, and part of its west end. Thereupon the French
evacuated it, after exploding a mine of their own which brought down
the bell-tower and much more, and crushed a few of the caçadores and
Spaniards[58] who were ahead of their comrades. The besiegers were able
to lodge themselves in the ruins, but could make no attempt to approach
the actual walls of the second _enceinte_. So the 6th Division remained
behind, within the streets of Burgos, and never came forward or showed
themselves.

Such was the unhappy end of this most unlucky siege. All through the
day of the assault there had been heavy skirmishing going on at the
outposts of the covering army; Souham was at last on the move. On the
19th the Guards’ brigade and the K.G.L. brigade of the 1st Division
marched to join the 5th and 7th Divisions at the front, leaving only
the line brigade (Stirling’s) to hold the trenches on the north and
west sides of the Castle. Two-thirds of the 6th Division had already
gone off in the same direction before the storm: now the rest followed,
handing over the charge of Burgos city and the chain of picquets on the
east side of the Castle to Pack’s Portuguese. There was little doing
in the lines this day--the French built up the oft-destroyed parapet of
breach III with sandbags, and made an incursion into the church of San
Roman, driving out the Portuguese guard for a short time, and injuring
the lodgement which had been made in the ruins. But they withdrew when
the supports came up.

On the 20th, news being serious at the front--for Souham showed
signs of intending to attack in force, and it was ascertained that
he had been reinforced by great part of the Army of the North, under
Caffarelli in person--Wellington gave orders to withdraw the guns
from the batteries, leaving only two of the captured French pieces
to fire an occasional shot. All transportable stores and ammunition
were ordered to be loaded up. There was some bickering in San Roman
this day, but at night the Portuguese were again in possession of the
much-battered church.

On the 21st came the final orders for retreat. The artillery were
directed to burn all that could not be carried off--platforms,
fascines, &c.--to blow up the works on San Miguel, and to retire down
the high-road to Valladolid. The three 18-pounders were taken a few
miles only. The roads being bad from heavy rain, and the bullocks weak,
it was held that there was no profit in dragging about the two guns
which had lost trunnions and were practically useless. The surviving
intact gun shared the fate of its two ‘lame’ fellows: all three were
wrecked[59], their carriages were destroyed, and they were thrown out
on the side of the road. The artillery reserve, now reduced to the five
ineffective 24-lb. howitzers, then continued its retreat.

[Illustration: BURGOS]

On the night of the 21st-22nd, Pack’s brigade and the other troops left
to hold the works retired, the covering army being now in full retreat
by various roads passing through or around the city. The main column
crossed at the town bridge--the artillery with wheels muffled with
straw to deaden their rumbling--risking the danger of being shelled
in the darkness by the Castle, which had several guns that bore upon
it. The long series of mishaps which constituted the history of the
siege of Burgos ended by the failure of the plan for the explosions on
San Miguel: the French found there next day more than twenty barrels of
powder intact. The arsenal in the town was fired when the last troops
had passed, but was only partly consumed. Next morning (October 22) the
advanced guard of the Army of Portugal entered Burgos, and relieved
the garrison after thirty-five days of siege. Dubreton had still
nearly 1,200 effective men under arms: he had lost in his admirable
and obstinate defence 16 officers and 607 men, of whom 304 were killed
or died of their wounds. The corresponding total British casualty list
was no less than 24 officers and 485 men killed, 68 officers and 1,487
men wounded and missing [the last item accounting for 2 officers and
42 men]. Almost the whole of the loss came from the ranks of the 1st
Division and Pack’s Portuguese, the 6th Division troops having had
little to do with the trenches or assaults[60].

The external causes of the raising of the siege will be dealt with in
their proper place--the strategical narrative of the general condition
of affairs in both the Castiles which opens the next chapter. Here it
remains only to recapitulate the various reasons which made the siege
itself a failure. They have been summed up by several writers of weight
and experience--John Jones, the official historian of the sieges of
Spain, John Burgoyne the commanding engineer, William Napier, and
Belmas the French author, who (using Jones as a primary authority) told
its story from the side of the besieged. Comparing all their views with
the detailed chronicle of the operations of those thirty-five eventful
days, the following results seem to emerge.

(1) Burgos would not have been a strong fortress against an army
provided with a proper battering-train, such as that which dealt with
Ciudad Rodrigo or Badajoz. But Wellington--by his own fault as it
turned out in the end--had practically no such train at all: three
18-pound heavy guns were an absurd provision for the siege of a place
of even third-rate strength. If Wellington had realized on September 20
that the siege was to last till October 21, he might have had almost as
many guns as he pleased. But the strength of Burgos was underrated at
the first; and by the time that it was realized, Wellington considered
(wrongly, as it turned out) that it was too late to get the necessary
ordnance from the distant places where it lay.

(2) Encouraged by the experience of Badajoz and Almaraz, Wellington and
his staff considered that an imperfect fortification like the Castle of
Burgos might be dealt with by escalade without artillery preparation.
The Hornwork of San Miguel was taken on this irregular system; but the
attempts against the _enceintes_ of the Castle failed. Burgoyne is
probably right in maintaining that the repeated failures were largely
due to the general’s reluctance to put in large masses of men at once,
owing to his wish to spare the lives in units already worked down to a
low strength by long campaigning. The principle ‘if we fail we can’t
lose many men’ was ruinous. On October 18 the place _must_ have fallen
if 3,000 instead of 600 men had been told off for the assault.

(3) Notwithstanding the lack of artillery, Burgos might have been
taken if Wellington had owned a large and efficient body of engineers.
But (as at Badajoz, where he had made bitter complaints on this
subject[61]) the provision of trained men was ludicrously small--there
were just five officers of Royal Engineers[62] with the army, and
eight ‘Royal Military Artificers’. The volunteers from the Line, both
officers and men, used as auxiliaries, were not up to the work required
of them. It was a misfortune that none of the divisions before Burgos
had experience of siege-work, like that which the Light, 3rd, and 4th
Divisions (all left at Madrid) had been through.

(4) After the heavy losses in the early assaults the rank and file,
both the British and still more the Portuguese, were much discouraged.
As Burgoyne says, ‘the place might have been, and ought to have been,
taken if every one had done his duty[63].’ In the actual assaults
splendid courage was often displayed, but in the trench-work there was
much sulkiness, apathy, and even shirking. ‘Our undertaking, every
night that we broke ground, appeared most pitiful: there was scarcely
a single instance where at least double the work was not projected,
with sufficient men and tools collected, that was afterwards executed,
owing to the neglect and misconduct of the working parties. It was
seldom that the men could be induced to take out their gabions and set
to work, and I myself placed at different times hundreds of gabions
with my own hands, and then _entreated_ the men to go and fill them, to
no purpose. The engineers blamed the men--the men blamed the engineers,
who, as they grumbled, were by unskilful direction ‘sending them out
to be butchered[64].’ All this, in the end, was due to the want of
artillery for proper preparation, and of trained sappers.

(5) Burgoyne, D’Urban, and other observers are probably right in saying
that the failure of the assaults was partly due to the bad principle
of composing the storming-parties of drafts from many different corps,
collected, under officers whom they did not personally know, from
the units that chanced to be on duty that day. The one case where a
brilliant success was scored with small loss, was seen when a whole
battalion, the 2/24th, carried the outer _enceinte_ on October 4.

(6) Wellington’s doubts, expressed almost from the first, as to the
practicability of the affair that he had taken in hand, were known to
many officers, and affected the general morale.

(7) Dubreton deserves unstinted praise. A general of more ordinary
type, such as Barrois at Ciudad Rodrigo, would have lost Burgos for
want of the extraordinary resourcefulness, determination, and quick
decision shown by this admirable governor. His garrison must share his
glory: the French 34th certainly got in this siege a good _revanche_
for their last military experience, the surprise of Arroyo dos Molinos.

SECTION XXXIV: CHAPTER III

WELLINGTON’S RETREAT FROM BURGOS: OCTOBER-NOVEMBER 1812. (1) FROM THE
ARLANZON TO THE DOURO: OCTOBER 22-OCTOBER 30

Having completed the depressing chronicle of the leaguer of the Castle
of Burgos, it is necessary that we should turn back for a week or two,
to examine the changing aspect of external affairs, which had affected
the general strategical position in Spain while the siege lingered
on. It will be remembered that the original scheme for the campaign
had been that, after the Army of Portugal had been pushed back to
the Ebro, a great part of Wellington’s field force should return to
Madrid, to pick up the divisions left there, and the corps of Hill,
before Soult and King Joseph should begin to give trouble on the side
of Valencia. Only a containing force was to have been left behind, to
aid Castaños and his Galicians in keeping Clausel (or his successor
Souham) out of mischief, while more important movements were on foot
in New Castile[65]. As to the command of this containing force there
was a difficulty: Wellington was not at all satisfied with the way in
which Clinton had handled the troops left on the Douro in August, and
it seems doubtful whether he wished to give him a far more important
commission in the first half of October, when he was the natural person
to be chosen for it. For at this time none of the other senior officers
who had served in the recent campaigns were available: Beresford,
Stapleton Cotton, and Picton were all three invalided at the moment.
Graham, the best of them all, had returned to England. Hill could not
be removed from the charge of his old army in the South. Of the five
divisions before Burgos four were commanded by brigadiers acting in
the position of _locum tenens_[66]: most of the brigades were, in a
similar fashion, being worked by colonels for want of a sufficient
number of major-generals to go round. But after October 11th the formal
difficulty was solved: there was now available an officer whom it was
fitting to leave in charge against Souham, viz. Sir Edward Paget,
who came up to the front on that day, after having been three years
absent from the Peninsula; he had last served under Wellington at the
Passage of the Douro in 1809, where he lost an arm. He had now come
out nominally to succeed Graham at the head of the 1st Division, but
also with the commission to act as second-in-command in the event of
the illness or disabling of the general-in-chief. Paget was known as
a good soldier, and had served with distinction during the Corunna
retreat; but he had never been trusted with the management of a large
force, and had little knowledge either of the army which Wellington had
trained, or of the parts of Spain in which the campaign was now going
on. Moreover, Wellington disliked on principle the idea of having a
second-in-command, occupying to a certain extent a position independent
of his own.

The separate containing force never came into existence, because
Wellington never left the North or returned to Madrid, though rumours
were afloat after Paget’s arrival that he was about to do so without
delay. Why, contrary to his own expressed intentions did he never go
South? The answer must certainly be that down to a very late period
of the siege he continued to keep in his mind the idea of returning
to Madrid[67], but that he was distracted from his purpose by several
considerations. The first was the abominable weather in October, which
made the prospect of a long forced march distasteful--the army was
sickly and would suffer. The second was his insufficient realization
of the nearness of the danger in the South: he thought that Hill was
in a less perilous position than was actually the case. The third was
that he was beginning to mark the growing strength of the Army of
Portugal, which lay in his own front, and to see that he could not hope
to ‘contain’ it by any mere detachment, if he departed for the South
with his main body. Souham’s host was no longer a spent force, which
could be ignored as a source of danger; if Wellington took away two or
three divisions, the officer left in charge in the North would be at
once assailed by very superior numbers. He did not like the idea of
trusting either Clinton or Paget with the conduct of a retreat before
an enemy who would certainly press him fiercely. In addition, there
was the lingering hope that Burgos might fall: if it were captured the
situation would be much improved, since the allies could use it as a
sort of _point d’appui_--to use the terminology of the day--on which
the containing army could rest; and the enemy would be forced to detach
heavily for the investment of the place.

By the day of the last assault (October 18) Wellington had clearly
lingered too long, for very large reinforcements had just come up to
join Souham, who on that morning was in a position to evict from before
Burgos not only any mere ‘covering force’ that might be left opposite
him, but the whole 35,000 men which formed the total of the allied
host. For by now the Army of Portugal was recruited up to a strength
of 38,000 men present with the colours: it had also just received
the disposable battalions of the Bayonne Reserve, a strong brigade
of 3,500 men under General Aussenac, and what was more important
still--Caffarelli had appeared at Briviesca with the main field-force
of the Army of the North. The operations of Home Popham, Mendizabal,
Mina and Longa, which had detained and confused the French troops in
Biscay and Navarre for the whole summer, had at last reached their
limits of success, and having patched up affairs on the coast, and left
some 20,000 men to hold the garrison places, and to curb the further
raids of the British commodore and the Spanish bands, Caffarelli had
come southwards with the whole of his cavalry--1,600 sabres,--three
batteries, and nearly 10,000 infantry, forming the greater part of the
divisions of Vandermaesen and Dumoustier. There were something like
50,000 French concentrated between Pancorbo and Briviesca on October
18th[68], while Wellington--allowing for his losses in the siege--had
not more than 24,000 Anglo-Portuguese and 11,000 Spaniards in hand. The
arrival of the Army of the North not only made the further continuance
of the siege of Burgos impossible, but placed Wellington in a condition
of great danger. It is clear that his campaign in the North had only
been able to continue for so long as it did because Popham, Mina, and
the Cantabrian bands had kept Caffarelli employed for a time that
exceeded all reasonable expectation. It was really surprising that a
small squadron and 10,000 half-organized troops, of whom a large part
were undisciplined guerrillero bands, and the rest not much better,
should have held the 37,000 men of the Army of the North in play for
three months. But the combination of a mobile naval force, and of
local levies who knew every goat-path of their native mountains, had
proved efficacious in the extreme. It had taken Caffarelli the whole
summer and much of the autumn to vindicate his position, and recover
the more important strategical points in his wide domain. Even when
he was marching on Burgos there was fierce fighting going on round
Pampeluna, on which Mina had pressed in more closely when he heard of
the departure of the general-in-chief. The Cantabrians and Navarrese
did marvels for Wellington, and their work has never been properly
acknowledged by British writers.

It is clear that the whole situation would have been different if
Wellington had brought up to the North in September the 16,000 veteran
British troops left at Madrid. For want of them he was in a state
of hopeless inferiority to his immediate opponents. And yet at the
same time they were useless at Madrid, because Hill--even with their
aid--was not nearly strong enough to keep Soult and King Joseph in
check. Wellington had in all at this time some 55,000 Anglo-Portuguese
troops under arms and at the front; but they were so dispersed that on
both theatres of war he was inferior to his enemies. He had 24,000
himself in Old Castile--Hill some 31,000 in New Castile; each of the
two halves of the army could count on the help of some 10,000 or 12,000
Spaniards[69]. But of what avail were the 35,000 men of all nations
at Burgos against the 50,000 French under Souham and Caffarelli, or
the 43,000 men of all nations near Madrid against the 60,000 of Soult
and the King? The whole situation would have been different if a
superiority or even an equality of numbers had been established against
one of the two French armies; and it is clear that such a combination
could have been contrived, if Wellington had adopted other plans.

There can be no doubt that the excessive tardiness of Soult’s
evacuation of Andalusia was the fact which caused the unlucky
distribution of Wellington’s forces in October. The Marshal, it will be
remembered, only left Granada on September 16th, and did not come into
touch with the outlying cavalry of the Valencian Army till September
29-30, or reach Almanza, where he was in full connexion with Suchet
and King Joseph, till October 2. There was, therefore, no threatening
combination of enemies on the Valencia side till thirteen days after
the siege of Burgos had begun; and Wellington did not know that it had
come into existence till October 9th, when he received a dispatch from
Hill informing him that the long foreseen, but long deferred, junction
had taken place. If it had occurred--as it well might have--three weeks
earlier, there would have been no siege of Burgos, and Wellington would
have been at Madrid, after having contented himself with driving the
army of Portugal beyond the Douro. It is probable that he would have
done well, even at so late a date as October 9th, if he had recognized
that the danger in front of Madrid was now pressing, and had abandoned
the siege of Burgos, in order to make new arrangements. Souham was not
yet in a condition to press him, and Caffarelli’s 10,000 men had not
arrived on the scene. But the last twelve days spent before Burgos
ruined his chances.

On getting Hill’s dispatch Wellington pondered much--but came to an
unhappy decision. In his reply he wrote, ‘I cannot believe that Soult
and the King can venture to move forward to attack you in the position
on the Tagus, without having possession of the fortresses in the
province of Murcia [Cartagena and Chinchilla] and of Alicante;--unless
indeed they propose to give up Valencia entirely. They would in that
case[70] bring with them a most overwhelming force, and you would
probably have to retire in the direction given to General Alten [i.e.
by the Guadarrama Pass, Villa Castin, and Arevalo] and I should then
join you on the Adaja. If you retire in that direction, destroy the
new bridge at Almaraz.... I write this, as I always do, to provide
for every event, not believing that these instructions are at all
necessary[71].’

In a supplementary letter, dated two days later, Wellington tells Hill
that he imagines that the autumn rains, which have made the siege of
Burgos so difficult, will probably have rendered the rivers of the
South impassable. ‘I should think that you will have the Tagus in
such a state as to feel in no apprehension in regard to the enemy’s
operations, be his numbers what they may[72].’ Yet though he does not
consider the danger in the South immediate or pressing, he acknowledges
that he ought to bring the siege of Burgos to an end, even though it be
necessary to raise it, and to give up the hope of its capture. But the
continual storms and rains induced him to delay his departure toward
the South: ‘I shall do so as soon as the weather holds up a little.’
On the same day (October 12) he wrote to Popham to say that if he had
to march towards Madrid, he expected that Souham would follow him, but
that Caffarelli must on no account be allowed to accompany Souham.
At all costs more trouble must be made in Cantabria and Biscay, to
prevent the Army of the North from moving. Popham must not withdraw
his squadron, or cease from stimulating the Northern insurgents[73].
Wellington was not aware that Caffarelli was already on the move, and
that the diversion in the North--through no fault of the officers in
charge of it--had reached its limit of success.

The moment had now arrived at which it was necessary at all costs to
come to some decision as to the movements of the Army at Burgos, for
Caffarelli (though Wellington knew it not) had started for Briviesca,
while Soult and King Joseph were also getting ready for an immediate
advance on Madrid, which must bring matters in the South to a head.
But relying on letters from Hill, dated October 10th, which stated
that there was still no signs of movement opposite him, Wellington
resolved on October 14 to stay yet another week in the North, and try
his final assault on Burgos: it came off with no success (as will be
remembered) on the 18th of that month. He was not blind to the possible
consequences to Hill of a prompt advance of the French armies from
Valencia, but he persuaded himself that the weather would make it
difficult, and that he had means of detaining Soult and Joseph, if they
should, after all, begin the move which he doubted that they proposed
to make.

The scheme for stopping any forward march on the part of the French
had two sections. The first was to be executed by the Anglo-Spanish
Army at Alicante. Maitland had fallen sick, and this force of some
16,000 men was now under the charge of General John Mackenzie. To this
officer Wellington wrote on October 13th: ‘In case the enemy should
advance from Valencia into La Mancha, with a view to attack our troops
on the Tagus, you must endeavour to obtain possession of the town and
kingdom of Valencia.’ He was given the option of marching by land from
Alicante, or of putting his men on shipboard and making a descent from
the sea on Valencia[74]. The second diversion was to be executed by
Ballasteros and the Army of Andalusia. Wellington wrote to him that
he should advance from Granada, cross the Sierra Morena with all his
available strength, and place himself at Alcaraz in La Mancha[75]. He
ought to have at least 12,000 men, as some of the Cadiz troops were
coming up to join him. Such a force, if placed on the flank of Soult
and the King, when they should move forward for Almanza and Albacete,
could not be ignored. And Wellington hoped to reinforce Ballasteros
with that part of the Murcian Army, under Elio and Freire, which had
got separated from the Alicante force, and had fallen back into the
inland. There were also irregular bodies, such as the division of the
Empecinado, which could be called in to join, and if 20,000 men lay at
Alcaraz, Soult could not go in full force to assail Hill in front of
Madrid. He must make such a large detachment to watch the Spaniards
that he would not have more than 30,000 or 35,000 men to make the
frontal attack on the Anglo-Portuguese force, which would defend the
line of the Tagus. Against such numbers Hill could easily hold his
ground.

It may be objected to these schemes that they did not allow sufficient
consideration to the power of Suchet in Valencia. Mackenzie’s force,
of a very heterogeneous kind, was not capable of driving in the
detachments of the Army of Aragon, which still lay cantoned along the
Xucar, facing the Allies at Alicante. Suchet was able to hold his own,
without detaining any of the troops of Soult or of King Joseph from
their advance upon Madrid. Mackenzie’s projected expedition against
the city of Valencia had no chance of putting a check upon the main
manœuvre that the French had in hand.

But the use of Ballasteros, whose movement must certainly have
exercised an immense restraining power upon Soult and King Joseph,
if only it had been carried out, was an experiment of a kind which
Wellington had tried before, nearly always with disappointing results.
To entrust to a Spanish general an essential part of a wide strategical
plan had proved ere now a doubtful expedient. And Ballasteros had
always shown himself self-willed if energetic; it was dangerous to
reckon upon him as a loyal and intelligent assistant in the great
game. And at this moment the captain-general of Andalusia was in
the most perverse of moods. His ill temper was caused by the recent
appointment of Wellington as commander-in-chief of all the Spanish
armies, a measure to which the Cortes had at last consented, after the
consequences of the battle of Salamanca and the occupation of Madrid
had prepared public opinion for this momentous step. It had been
bitterly opposed at the secret session when it was brought forward, but
there could no longer be any valid excuse for putting off the obviously
necessary policy of combining all military effort in the Peninsula, by
placing the control of the whole of the Spanish armies in the hands of
one who had shown himself such a master of the art of war.

Wellington’s nomination as Generalissimo of the Spanish armies had
been voted by the Cortes on September 22nd, and conveyed to him before
Burgos on October 2nd. He had every intention of accepting the offer,
though (as he wrote to his brother Henry[76]) the change in his
position would not be so great in reality as in form, since Castaños
and most of the other Spanish generals had of late been wont to consult
him on their movements, and generally to fall in with his views.
There had been exceptions, even of late, such as Joseph O’Donnell’s
gratuitous forcing on of battle at Castalla, when he had been specially
asked to hold back till the Anglo-Sicilian expedition began to work
upon the East Coast. But it would certainly be advantageous that,
for the future, he should be able to issue orders instead of advice.
Meanwhile he could not formally accept the post of general-in-chief
without the official leave of the Prince Regent, and prompt information
of the offer and a request for permission to accept it, were sent to
London. The Cortes, foreseeing the necessary delay, had refrained from
publishing the decree till it should be certain that Wellington was
prepared to assume the position that was offered him. But the fact
soon became known in Cadiz, and was openly spoken of in the public
press. Wellington continued to write only letters of advice to the
Spanish generals, and did not assume the tone of a commander-in-chief
as yet, but his advice had already a more binding force. There was
no opposition made to him, save in one quarter--but that was the
most important one. Ballasteros, as Commander of the 4th Army and
Captain-General of Andalusia, burst out into open revolt against the
Cortes, the Regency, and the commander-in-chief elect.

This busy and ambitious man had taken up his abode in Granada, after
Soult’s departure on September 23rd, and since then had not stirred,
though Wellington had repeatedly asked him to advance into La Mancha
with his available force, and to put himself in touch with Elio,
Penne Villemur, and Hill. But Ballasteros was suffering from an acute
attack of megalomania: after years of skulking in the mountains and
forced marches, he was now in the position of a viceroy commanding
the resources of a great province. Though Andalusia had been cleared
of the French by no merit of his, but as a side-effect of the battle
of Salamanca, he gave himself the airs of a conqueror and deliverer,
and fully believed himself to be the most important person in Spain.
As an acute observer remarked, ‘Ballasteros wanted to begin where
Bonaparte ended, by seizing supreme authority, though he had performed
no such services for his fatherland as the French general. He spared
no effort to attach his army to his person, and to win its favour
sacrificed without hesitation the whole civil population. The land was
drained of all resources, but he found new means of extorting money.
His officers went from town to town exacting a so-called “voluntary
contribution” for the army. Those who gave much were put in his white
book as patriots--those who did not were enrolled in his black book
as supporters of King Joseph. He wanted to collect all the troops in
Andalusia into a great army, with himself as commander. But the Regency
directed him, in accordance with Wellington’s advice, to march at once
with the troops immediately available and take post in La Mancha[77].’

Then came the news of Wellington’s nomination as commander-in-chief.
Ballasteros thought the moment favourable for an open bid for the
dictatorship. Instead of obeying the orders sent, he issued on October
23rd a manifesto directed to the Regency, in which he declared that
Wellington’s appointment to supreme power was an insult to the Spanish
nation, and especially to the Spanish Army. He openly contemned the
decree, as dishonourable and debasing--Spaniards should never become
like Portuguese the servants of the foreigner. If--what he could not
believe--the national army and the nation itself should ratify such
an appointment, he himself would throw up his post and retire to his
home. At the same time there was an outburst of pamphlets and newspaper
articles inspired by him, stating that England was to be feared as an
oppressor no less than France; and all sorts of absurd rumours were put
about as to the intentions of the British Government and the servility
of the Cortes.

Ballasteros, however, had altogether mistaken his own importance
and popularity: budding Bonapartes must be able to rely on their
own troops, and he--as the event showed--could not. The Cortes took
prompt measures for his suppression: one Colonel Rivera, a well-known
Liberal, was sent secretly to Granada to bear to Virues, the second in
command of the 4th Army, orders to arrest his chief, and place him in
confinement. And this was done without any difficulty, so unfounded
was the confidence which Ballasteros had placed in his omnipotence
with the army. Virues and the Prince of Anglona, his two divisional
generals, carried out the arrest in the simplest fashion. On the
morning of October 30th they ordered out their troops for a field day
on the Alcalá road, save a battalion of the Spanish Guards, who had not
belonged to Ballasteros’s old army, and had no affection for him. This
regiment surrounded his residence, and when he issued out the picquet
refused him passage, and Colonel Rivera presented him with the warrant
for his arrest. There was some little stir in Granada among the civil
population, but the army made no movement when Virues read the decree
of the Cortes to them. Before he well understood what had happened,
Ballasteros was on his way under a guard to the African fortress of
Ceuta. He was afterwards given Fregenal in Estremadura as the place of
his detention.

But all this happened on October 30th, and meanwhile the Army of
Andalusia had remained motionless, though Wellington had believed
that it had marched for La Mancha as early as October 5th[78]. Nearly
a month had been lost by Ballasteros’s perversity, and when he was
finally arrested and his troops became available, it was too late; for
Hill had been forced to retreat, and Madrid was about to fall into the
hands of the French, who had advanced through La Mancha unmolested.
The Fourth Army was put under the command of the Duke del Parque, the
victor of Tamames, but the vanquished of Alba de Tormes in the campaign
of 1809. It marched early in November to its appointed position at
Alcaraz; but it was of no use to have it there when the enemy had
changed all his positions, and had driven Hill beyond the Guadarrama
into the valley of the Douro.

Wellington’s arrangements for the defence of Madrid were therefore
insufficient as the event proved, for three reasons. The diversion from
Alicante was too weak--Suchet alone was able to keep Maitland in check.
The main Spanish force which was to have co-operated with Hill never
put in an appearance, thanks to the disloyal perversity of its general.
And, thirdly, the autumn rains, which had so incommoded Wellington
before Burgos, turned out to be late and scanty in New Castile. The
Tagus and its affluents remained low and fordable almost everywhere.

As late as the 17th October Wellington had no fears about Hill’s
position. The probability that the enemy from Valencia would advance
upon Madrid, as he wrote on that morning, seemed diminishing day
by day--reinforcements were coming up from the South to Hill, and
Ballasteros was believed to be already posted in La Mancha, ‘which
renders the enemy’s movement upon the Tagus very improbable[79].’ On
the 19th, when his last assault on the Castle of Burgos had just been
beaten off, and he was thinking of retreat, came much less satisfactory
news from Hill. The enemy seemed to be drawing together: they had laid
siege to the Castle of Chinchilla, and it was not impossible that
they were aiming at Madrid, perhaps only with a view of forcing the
abandonment of the siege of Burgos, perhaps with serious offensive
intention. If so, Wellington might be caught with not one but both
of the halves of his army exposed to immediate attack by a superior
enemy, who was just assuming the offensive. And the total force of the
French was appalling--50,000 men on the Northern field of operations,
60,000 on the other--while the united strength of all the available
troops under Wellington’s orders was about 80,000, of whom 25,000 were
Spaniards, whose previous record was not in many cases reassuring. He
had often warned the ministers at home that if the French evacuated
outlying provinces, and collected in great masses, they were too many
for him[80]. But that ever-possible event had been so long delayed,
that Wellington had gone on, with a healthy and cheerful opportunism,
facing the actual situation of affairs without taking too much thought
for the morrow. Now the conjunction least to be desired appeared to be
at length coming into practical existence and it remained to be seen
what could be done.

As for his own army, there was no doubt that prompt retreat, first
beyond the Pisuerga, then beyond the Douro, was necessary. Souham had
already made his first preliminary forward movement. On the evening
of October 18th a strong advance guard, consisting of a brigade of
Maucune’s division, pushed in upon the front of the allied army at the
village of Santa Olalla, and surprised there the outlying picket of
an officer and thirty men of the Brunswick-Oels, who were nearly all
taken prisoners. The heights above this place commanded the town of
Monasterio, wherefore Wellington directed it to be evacuated, and drew
in its line to a position slightly nearer Burgos, for it was clear that
there were heavy forces behind the brigade which had formed the French
attacking force[81].

On the 19th he was in order of battle with all his army except the
troops left before Burgos--Pack’s Portuguese, a brigade of the 6th
Division, and three weak battalions from the 1st Division. The position
extended from Ibeas on the Arlanzon, through Riobena to Soto Palacios,
and was manned by the 1st, 5th, and 7th Divisions, two brigades of
the 6th, Bradford’s Portuguese, Castaños’s Galicians, and all the
cavalry--about 30,000 men. Wellington expected to be attacked on the
20th, and was not prepared to give back till he had ascertained what
force was in his front. He knew that the Army of Portugal had been
reinforced, but was not sure whether the report that Caffarelli had
come up with a large portion of the Army of the North was correct or no.

Souham’s movement on the 18th had been intended as the commencement
of a general advance: he brought up his whole force to Monasterio,
and he would have attacked on the 20th if he had not received, before
daybreak, and long ere his troops were under way, a much-delayed
dispatch from King Joseph. It informed him that the whole mass of
troops from Valencia was on the march for Madrid, that this movement
would force Wellington to abandon the siege of Burgos and to fall back,
and that he was therefore not to risk a general action, but to advance
with caution, and pursue the allied force in front of him so soon as it
should begin to retreat, when it might be pressed with advantage.[82]
He was to be prepared to link his advance with that of the armies from
the South, which would have columns in the direction of Cuenca. Souham
was discontented with the gist of this dispatch, since he had his whole
army assembled, while Caffarelli was close behind, within supporting
distance, at Briviesca. He thought that he could have fought with
advantage, and was probably right, since he and Caffarelli had a marked
superiority of numbers, though Wellington’s positions were strong.

Balked of the battle that he desired, he resolved to make a very
strong reconnaissance against the allied centre, to see whether the
enemy might already be contemplating retreat, and might consent to be
pushed back, and to abandon Burgos. This reconnaissance was conducted
by Maucune’s and Chauvel’s (late Bonnet’s) divisions and a brigade of
light cavalry: it was directed against Wellington’s centre, in front
of the villages of Quintana Palla and Olmos, where the 7th division
was posted. Maucune’s troops, forming the front line of the French,
were hotly engaged in this direction, when Wellington, seeing that
the main body of the enemy was very remote, and that the two vanguard
divisions had ventured far forward into his ground, directed Sir Edward
Paget with the 1st and 5th divisions--forming his own left wing--to
swing forward by a diagonal movement and take Maucune in flank. The
French general discovered the approaching force only just in time,
and retreated in great haste across the fields, without calling in
his tirailleurs or forming any regular order of march. Each regiment
made off by its own way, just early enough to escape Paget’s turning
movement. The British horse artillery arrived only in time to shell the
last battalions; the infantry was too far off to reach them. Dusk fell
at this moment, and Paget halted: if there had been one hour more of
daylight Maucune and Chauvel would have been in an evil case, for they
were still some distance from their own main body on the Monasterio
position, and the British cavalry was coming up in haste. The
reconnaissance had been pushed recklessly and too far--in accordance
with the usual conduct of Maucune, who was (as his conduct at Salamanca
had proved) a gallant but a very rash leader. The losses on both sides
were trifling--apparently about 80 in the French ranks[83], and 47 in
the British 7th division. Paget’s troops did not come under fire.

On the morning of the 21st Wellington received a letter of Hill’s,
written on the 17th, which made it clear to him that he must delay no
longer. It reported that the enemy were very clearly on the move--the
whole of Drouet’s corps was coming forward from Albacete, the castle
of Chinchilla had fallen into the hands of the French on Oct. 9th,
and--what was the most discomposing to learn--Ballasteros had failed
to advance into La Mancha: by the last accounts he was still at
Granada. He would certainly come too late, if he came at all. The only
compensating piece of good news was that Skerrett’s brigade from Cadiz
was at last near at hand, and would reach Talavera on the 20th. Elio,
from his forward position at Villares, reported that Suchet’s troops
opposite Alicante were drawing back towards Valencia; possibly they
were about to join Soult and King Joseph, who were evidently coming
forward. Hill was inclined to sum up the news as follows: ‘The King,
Soult, and Suchet having united their armies are on the frontiers of
Murcia and Valencia, and appear to be moving this way. It is certain
that a considerable force is advancing toward Madrid, but I think it
doubtful whether they will attempt to force their way to the capital.’
Meanwhile he had, as a precautionary measure, brought up the troops in
cantonments round Madrid to Aranjuez and its neighbourhood, and had
thrown forward a cavalry screen beyond the Tagus, to watch alike the
roads from Albacete and those from Cuenca.

The mere possibility that Soult and the King were advancing on Madrid
was enough to move Wellington to instant retreat: if he waited for
certainty, he might be too late. And his own position in front of
Souham and Caffarelli was dangerous enough, even if no more bad news
from the South should come to hand. Accordingly on the afternoon of
the 21st orders were sent to Pack to prepare to raise the siege of
Burgos, when the main army in its backward movement should have passed
him. The baggage was to be sent off, the stores removed or burned
in the following night. The divisions in line opposite Souham were
to move away, after lighting camp fires to delude the enemy, in two
main columns, one on each side of the Arlanzon. The northern column,
composed of the 5th Division, two-thirds of the Galician infantry,
the heavy dragoons of Ponsonby (late Le Marchant’s brigade) and the
handful of Spanish regular cavalry, was to skirt the northern side
of the city of Burgos, using the cross-roads by Bivar and Quintana
Dueñas, and to retire to Tardajos, beside the Urbel river. The southern
and larger column, consisting of the 1st, 7th, and 6th Divisions
(marching in that order), of Bradford’s Portuguese and the remainder
of the Galicians, was to move by the high road through Villa Fria, to
cross the town-bridge of Burgos (with special caution that silence
must be observed, so as not to alarm the garrison of the Castle) to
Frandovinez and Villa de Buniel. Here they would be in touch with the
other column, which was to be only two miles away at Tardajos. Anson’s
cavalry brigade was to cover the rear of this column, only abandoning
the outposts when the infantry should have got far forward. They were
to keep the old picquet-line till three in the morning. Bock’s German
dragoons and the cavalry of Julian Sanchez formed a flank guard for the
southern column: they were to cross the Arlanzon at Ibeas, five miles
east of Burgos, and to retire parallel to the infantry line of march,
by a circuit on cross-roads south of Burgos, finally joining the main
body at Villa de Buniel[84].

All this complicated set of movements was carried out with complete
success: the army got away without arousing the attention of the French
of Souham, and the column which crossed the bridge of Burgos, under the
cannon of the Castle[85], was never detected, till a Spanish guerrilla
party galloped noisily across the stones and drew some harmless shots.
Since the enemy was alarmed, the rear of the column had to take a
side-path. Pack filed off the troops in the trenches, and got away
quietly from the investment line. In the morning the two infantry
columns were safely concentrated within two miles of each other at
Tardajos and Villa de Buniel. There being no sign of pursuit, they were
allowed some hours’ rest in these positions, and then resumed their
retreat, the northern column leading, with the 5th Division at its
head, the southern column following, and falling into the main road by
crossing the bridge of Buniel. The 7th Division formed the rearguard
of the infantry; it was followed by Bock’s dragoons, Anson and Julian
Sanchez bringing up the rear. On the night of the 22nd the army
bivouacked along the road about Celada, Villapequeña, and Hornillos;
the light cavalry, far behind, were still observing the passages of the
Arlanzon at Buniel and of the Urbel at Tardajos.

The French pursuit was not urged with any vigour on this day. The
departure of Wellington had only been discovered in the early morning
hours by the dying down of the camp fires along his old position[86].
At dawn Souham advanced with caution; finding nothing in front of it,
his vanguard under Maucune entered Burgos about 10 o’clock in the
morning, and exchanged congratulations with Dubreton and his gallant
garrison. The light cavalry of the Army of Portugal pushed out along
the roads north and south of the Arlanzon: those on the right bank
found the three broken 18-pounders of Wellington’s battering train
a few miles outside of Burgos, and went as far as the Urbel, where
they came on the rear vedettes of the Allies. Those on the left bank
obtained touch with Anson’s outlying picquet at San Mames, and drove it
back to the Buniel bridge.

The 23rd October, however, was to be a day of a much more lively
sort. Souham and Caffarelli, having debouched from Burgos, brought
all their numerous cavalry to the front, and at dawn it was coming up
for the pursuit, in immense strength. There were present of the Army
of Portugal Curto’s light horse, Boyer’s dragoons, and the brigade
formerly commanded by Chauvel now under Colonel Merlin of the 1st
Hussars. These, by the morning state of October 15th, made up 4,300
sabres. The Army of the North contributed the bulk of its one--but
very powerful--cavalry brigade, that of Laferrière, 1,650 strong.[87]
Thus there were nearly 6,000 veteran horsemen hurrying on to molest
Wellington’s rear, where the covering force only consisted of Anson’s
and Bock’s two brigades and of the lancers of Julian Sanchez--1,300
dragoons British and German[88], and 1,000 Spaniards admirable for
raids and ambushes but not fit to be placed in battle line. Ponsonby’s
dragoons and the regular squadrons of the Galician army were far away
with the head of the column. To support the cavalry screen were the
two horse-artillery batteries of Downman and Bull, and the two Light
Battalions of the German Legion from the 7th Division, under Colonel
Halkett, which were left behind as the extreme rearguard of the
infantry.

All day the main marching column of the allied army laboured forward
unmolested along the muddy high road from Celada del Camino to
Torquemada, a very long stage of some 26 miles: Wellington seldom
asked his infantry to make such an effort. What would have happened to
Clausel’s army if the British had marched at this rate in the week
that followed the battle of Salamanca? Behind the infantry column,
however, the squadrons of the rearguard were fighting hard all day
long, to secure an unmolested retreat for their comrades. This was the
most harassing and one of the most costly efforts that the British
cavalry was called upon to make during the Peninsular War. The nearest
parallel to it in earlier years was the rearguard action of El Bodon in
September 1811[89]. But there the forces engaged on both sides had been
much smaller.

The French advanced guard consisted of Curto’s light cavalry division
of the Army of Portugal, supported by Maucune’s infantry division. It
had started at dawn, and found the British cavalry vedettes where they
had been marked down on the preceding night, at the bridge of Villa
Buniel. They retired without giving trouble, being in no strength,
and the morning was wearing on when the French came upon Wellington’s
rearguard, the horsemen of Anson and Julian Sanchez, and Halkett’s two
German battalions, a mile or two east of Celada, holding the line of
the Hormaza stream. Anson was in position behind its ravine, with a
battalion of the light infantry dispersed along the bushes above the
water, and the cavalry in support. Julian Sanchez was visible on the
other side of the Arlanzon, which is not here fordable, beyond Anson’s
right: on his left, hovering on hills above the road, was a small
irregular force, the guerrilla band of Marquinez[90]. The ground along
the Hormaza was strong, and the infantry fire surprised the enemy,
who were stopped for some time. They came on presently in force, and
engaged in a bickering fight: several attempts to cross the ravine were
foiled by partial charges of some of Anson’s squadrons. Wellington
says in his dispatch that the skirmishing lasted nearly three hours,
and that Stapleton Cotton, who had recently come up from the Salamanca
hospital cured of his wound, made excellent dispositions. But the
odds--more than two to one--were far too great to permit the contest
to be maintained for an indefinite period; and when, after much
bickering, the French (O’Shee’s brigade of Curto’s division) at last
succeeded in gaining a footing beyond the Hormaza, Anson’s squadrons
went off in good order. The ground for the next five or six miles was
very unfavourable for a small detaining force, as the valley of the
Arlanzon widened out for a time, and allowed the enemy space to deploy
his superior numbers. Nevertheless the light dragoons turned again and
again, and charged with more or less success the pursuing Chasseurs.
While Curto’s division was pressing back the British brigade in front,
Merlin’s brigade, pushing out on the French right, ascended the hills
beyond Anson’s left flank, and there found and drove off the partida of
Marquinez. The fugitive guerrilleros, falling back for support towards
the British, came in upon the flank of the 16th Light Dragoons with
French hussars in close pursuit, and mixed with them. The left squadron
of the 16th was thrown into confusion, and suffered heavily, having
some thirty casualties; and the commander of the regiment, Colonel
Pelly, and seven of his men were taken prisoners. As Curto was pushing
on at the same time, Anson’s brigade was much troubled, and was greatly
relieved when it at last came in sight of its support, Bock’s German
Heavy Dragoons and Bull’s battery, posted behind a bridge spanning a
watercourse near the lonely house called the Venta del Pozo. The two
battalions of Halkett, who had been retiring under cover of Anson’s
stubborn resistance, were now some little way behind Bock, near the
village of Villadrigo. On seeing the obstacle of the watercourse in
front of them, and the British reserves behind it, the cavalry of the
Army of Portugal halted, and began to re-form. Anson’s harassed brigade
was permitted to cross the bridge and to join Bock.

At this moment there came on the scene the French cavalry reserves,
Boyer’s dragoons and the three regiments of the Army of the North,
which were commanded that day not by their brigadier Laferrière (who
had been injured by a fall from his horse) but by Colonel Faverot of
the 15th Chasseurs. Souham, who had arrived in their company as had
Caffarelli also, gave orders that the pursuit was not to slacken for
a minute. While the cavalry of Curto and Merlin were re-forming and
resting, the newly arrived squadrons were directed to drive in the
British rearguard from its new position. The brigade of Faverot was to
attack in front, the dragoons of Boyer were to turn the hostile line,
by crossing the watercourse some way to their right, and to fall on
its flank and rear. So great was the superiority in numbers of the
attacking party that they came on with supreme confidence, ignoring
all disadvantages of ground. Faverot’s brigade undertook to pass the
bridge in column, in face of Bock’s two regiments drawn up at the head
of the slope, and of Bull’s battery placed on the high road so as to
command the crossing. Boyer’s dragoons trotted off to the right, to
look for the first available place where the water should allow them a
practicable ford.

What followed was not in accordance with the designs of either party.
Souham had intended Boyer and Faverot to act simultaneously; but the
former found the obstacle less and less inviting the farther that he
went on: he rode for more than a mile without discovering a passage,
and finally got out of sight of Souham and the high road[91]. Meanwhile
Faverot had advanced straight for the bridge, and had begun to cross
it. Of his three regiments the Berg lancers led, the 15th Chasseurs
came next, the Legion of Gendarmerie brought up the rear. They were ten
squadrons in all, or some 1,200 sabres. As each squadron got quit of
the bridge it formed up in line, the first to pass to the right of the
road, while those which followed successively took ground to the left,
between the chaussée and the bank of the Arlanzon. Eight squadrons had
got into position before the British line gave any signs of movement on
the hillside above.

It is clear that to cross a bridge in this fashion was a reckless
manœuvre. If Bock had charged when two or three squadrons only had
passed[92], he must have crushed them in the act of deployment, and
have jammed the rest of the French column at the bridgehead in a
position of helpless immobility. That no such charge was made resulted
from a curious chance. Stapleton Cotton, who was still conducting the
retreat, had placed Bull’s battery at a point on the slope where he
judged that it fully commanded the bridge, with Bock’s four squadrons
on its right. Then Anson’s brigade, not in the best of order after
its long pursuit by the enemy, trotted over the bridge and came up
the slope. Cotton intended that it should deploy on the left of the
guns, but the retreating regiments, before the directions reached
them, turned to the right and began to form up behind Bock’s line. The
general at once sent them orders to cross to the left and prolong the
line on the other side of Bull’s battery. By some extraordinary blunder
the leading regiment (perhaps to shorten its route) passed to the
left in front of the guns, instead of moving behind them. It was thus
masking the battery just at the moment that the French, to the surprise
of every one, began to cross the bridge. There was considerable
confusion in changing the march of the light dragoons, and before they
were cleared off and the front of the battery was free, several French
squadrons were across the ravine and forming up. The artillerymen then
opened, but in their hurry they misjudged the elevation, and not one
shot of the first discharge told. The second did hardly better; more
French were passing every moment, and Cotton then directed the cavalry
to charge, since the enemy was becoming stronger and stronger on the
near side of the bridge.

The charge was delivered in échelon of brigades; Bock’s two regiments,
who had been awaiting orders for some time, got away at once, and fell
upon the left of the French--the gendarmes and the left squadrons
of the Chasseurs. Anson’s six squadrons started somewhat later, and
having tired horses--after their long morning’s fight--came on at a
much slower pace. They found themselves opposed to the Lancers and the
right squadrons of the Chasseurs. There was such a perceptible space
between the two attacks, that some of the French narratives speak of
the British charge as being made by a front line and a reserve. The
numbers engaged were not very unequal[93]--probably 1,200 French to
1,000 British--but the former were all fresh, while the larger half of
the latter (Anson’s brigade) were wearied out--man and horse--by long
previous fighting.

All accounts--English and French--agree that this was one of the most
furious cavalry mêlées ever seen: the two sides broke each other’s
lines at various points--the 1st K.G.L. Dragoons rode down their
immediate opponents, the 2nd got to a standing fight with theirs:
Anson’s regiments, coming on more slowly on their jaded mounts, made no
impression on the Lancers and Chasseurs opposite them. The whole mass
fell into a heaving crowd ‘so completely mixed that friend could hardly
be distinguished from foe--the contest man to man lasted probably a
long minute, during which the ground was strewn with French, and our
own loss was heavy in the extreme.’ General Bock was at one time seen
defending himself against six Frenchmen, and was barely saved by his
men. Beteille, the Colonel of the French Gendarme Legion, received, it
is said, twelve separate wounds, and was left for dead. The combat was
ended by the intervention of the two rear squadrons of the Gendarmes,
who had not crossed the bridge when the charge began; they came up
late, and fell upon the flank and rear of the 2nd Dragoons of the
K.G.L. This last push settled the matter, and the British brigades
broke and fell back[94].

They were not so disheartened, however, but that they rallied half a
mile to the rear, and were showing fight when Boyer’s dragoons came
tardily upon the scene--they had at last found a passage over the
ravine, and appeared in full strength on the flank. It was hopeless
to oppose them, and the wrecks of the two British brigades fell back
hastily towards their infantry support, Halkett’s two Light Battalions
of the German Legion, which had been retreating meanwhile towards
Villadrigo, marching in column at quarter distance and prepared to
form square when necessary. The need now came--the leading regiment of
Boyer’s Dragoons turned upon the rear battalion--the 1st--and charged
it: the square was formed in good time, and the attack was beaten off.
The battalion then retired, falling back upon the 2nd, which had
nearly reached Villadrigo. Both then retreated together, covering the
broken cavalry, and had gone a short distance farther when the French
renewed the attack. Both battalions formed square, both were charged,
and both repulsed the attack of the dragoons with loss. The enemy,
who had still plenty of intact squadrons, seemed to be contemplating
a third charge, but hesitated, and finally Bock’s and Anson’s men
having got back into some sort of order, and showing a front once more,
the squares retired unmolested, and marched off in company with the
cavalry. The French followed cautiously and gave no further trouble. It
was now dark, and when the pursuit ceased the rearguard halted for two
hours, and resuming its march about ten o’clock, finally reached the
bridge of Quintana del Puente, outside Torquemada, at two o’clock next
morning.

Thus ended a costly affair, which might have proved much more perilous
had the French been better managed. But though their troopers fought
well enough, their generals failed to get such advantage as they
should out of their superior numbers. It is to be noted that both
Curto and Boyer have very poor records in the memoirs of Marmont, Foy,
and other contemporary writers, who speak on other occasions of the
‘inertie coupable’ and ‘faute de décision’ of the one, and call the
other ‘bon manœuvrier, mais n’ayant pas la réputation qui attire la
confiance aveugle du soldat’: Napoleon once summed them up as ‘mauvais
ou médiocres[95], along with several other generals. It seems clear,
at any rate, that they should have accomplished more, with the means
at their disposal. The damage inflicted on the British rearguard was
much smaller than might have been expected--only 230 in all, including
5 officers and 60 men taken prisoners[96]. It is probable indeed that
the pursuers suffered no less; for, though their official report spoke
of no more than about a hundred and fifty casualties, Faverot’s Brigade
alone had almost as many by itself, showing a list of 7 killed and 18
officers and 116 men wounded. But the regimental lists give 35 French
cavalry officers in all disabled that day, 5 in Curto’s division, 5 in
Merlin’s Brigade, 5 in Boyer’s Dragoons, and 2 on the staff, beside
the 18 in Faverot’s Brigade. This must indicate a total loss of nearly
300, applying the very moderate percentage of casualties of men to
officers that prevailed in Faverot’s regiments to the other corps.
The engagement had been most honourable to the two cavalry brigades
of Wellington’s rearguard, and not less so to the German Legion light
infantry. An intelligent observer--not a soldier--who saw the whole of
the fighting that day remarked, ‘I twice thought Anson’s Brigade (which
was weak in numbers and much exhausted by constant service) would have
been annihilated; and I believe we owe the preservation of that and of
the heavy German brigade to the admirable steadiness of Halkett’s two
Light Battalions.... We literally had to fight our way for four miles,
retiring, halting, charging, and again retiring. I say _we_ because I
was in the thick of it, and never witnessed such a scene of anxiety,
uproar, and confusion. Throughout the whole of this trying occasion
Stapleton Cotton behaved with great coolness, judgement, and gallantry.
I was close to him the whole time, and did not observe him for an
instant disturbed or confused[97].’ At the end of the fight one officer
in a jaded regiment observed to another that it had been a bad day. His
friend replied that it had been a most honourable day for the troops,
for at nightfall every unwounded man on an efficient horse was still in
line and ready to charge again. There had been no rout, no straggling,
and no loss of morale.

While the combat of Venta del Pozo was in progress the main body of
the army had been resting in and about Torquemada, undisturbed by
any pursuit, so well had the rearguard played its part. Next morning
(October 24th) it marched off and crossed the Carrion river by the
bridges of Palencia, Villamuriel, and Dueñas. Behind this stream
Wellington was proposing to check the enemy for at least some days.
He chose it, rather than the Pisuerga, as his defensive line for
tactical reasons. If he had stayed behind the Pisuerga, he would have
had the Carrion and its bridges in his immediate rear, and he was
determined not to fight with bridge-defiles behind him. In the rear
of the Carrion there were no such dangerous passages, and the way was
clear to Valladolid. It was fortunate that, after the lively day on the
23rd, the French made no serious attempt at pursuit upon the 24th, for
there were many stragglers that morning from the infantry. Torquemada
was the centre of a wine-district and full of barrels, vats, and even
cisterns of the heady new vintage of 1812; many of the men had repaid
themselves for a twenty-six mile march by over-deep potations, and it
was very hard to get the battalions started next morning.[98] Napier
says that ‘twelve thousand men at one time were in a state of helpless
inebriety:’ this is no doubt an exaggeration, but the diaries of
eye-witnesses make it clear that there was much drunkenness that day.

Wellington’s new position extended from Palencia on the Carrion to
Dueñas on the Pisuerga, below its junction with the first-named river.
He intended to have all the bridges destroyed, viz. those of Palencia,
Villa Muriel, and San Isidro on the Carrion, and those of Dueñas and
Tariego on the Pisuerga. He placed one of the Galician divisions
(Cabrera’s) in Palencia and south of it, supported by the 3/1st from
the 5th Division. Another Galician division (Losada’s) continued the
line southward to Villa Muriel, where it was taken up by the 5th
Division--now under General Oswald who had recently joined. The 1st,
6th, and 7th Divisions prolonged the line down the Pisuerga. Behind
the rivers, all the way, there was a second line of defence, formed by
the dry bed of the Canal of Castile, which runs for many miles through
the valley: it was out of order and waterless, but the depression of
its course made a deep trench running parallel with the Carrion and
Pisuerga, and very tenable. It must be noted that Palencia lay to
the wrong side of the Carrion for Wellington’s purpose, being on its
left or eastern bank. It had, therefore, either to be held as a sort
of _tête de pont_, or evacuated before the enemy should attack. The
Spanish officer in command resolved to take the former course, though
the town was indefensible, with a ruinous mediaeval wall: he occupied
it, and made arrangements for the blowing up of the bridge only when
his advanced guard should have been driven out of Palencia and should
have recrossed the river.

Souham, who had pushed his head-quarters forward to Magaz this day,
resolved to try to force the line of the Carrion. Two divisions under
Foy--his own and that of Bonté (late Thomières)--were to endeavour to
carry Palencia and its bridge. Maucune, with the old advanced guard,
his own division and that of Gauthier[99], was to see if anything
could be done at the bridges of Villa Muriel and San Isidro. Foy had
Laferrière’s cavalry brigade given him, Maucune retained Curto’s light
horse. The main body of the army remained in a mass near Magaz, ready
to support either of the advanced columns, if it should succeed in
forcing a passage.

Unfortunately for Wellington, everything went wrong at Palencia. Foy,
marching rapidly on the city, drove away the few squadrons of Galician
cavalry which were observing his front, and then burst open one of
its rickety gates with artillery fire, and stormed the entry with
Chemineau’s brigade. The Galician battalions in the town, beaten in
a short street fight, were evicted with such a furious rush that the
British engineer officer with the party of the 3/1st, who were working
at the bridge, failed[100] to fire the mine, whose fuse went wrong.
Most of them were taken prisoners. Colonel Campbell of the 3/1st, who
had been sent to support the Spaniards, fell back towards Villa Muriel,
judging the enemy too strong to be resisted, and the routed Galicians
had to be covered by Ponsonby’s heavy dragoons from the pursuit of the
French cavalry, who spread over the environs of Palencia and captured
some baggage trains, British and Spanish, with their escorts.

Thus Souham had secured a safe passage over the Carrion and it
mattered little to him that his other attack farther south had less
decisive success. Here Maucune, always a very enterprising--not to say
reckless--commander had marched against the two bridges of Villa Muriel
and San Isidro. He led his own division towards the former, and sent
that of Gauthier against the latter. The 5th Division had an infantry
screen of light troops beyond the river--this was pushed in, with some
loss, especially to the 8th Caçadores. Both bridges were then attacked,
but each was blown up when the heads of the French columns approached,
and a heavy fire, both of artillery and of musketry, from the other
bank checked their further advance. Gauthier then turned east in search
of a passage, and went coasting along the bank of the Pisuerga for
some miles, as far as the bridge of Tariego (or Baños, as the British
accounts call it). This had been prepared for destruction like the
other bridges, but the mine when exploded only broke the parapets and
part of the flooring. The French charged across, on the uninjured crown
of the arch, and captured some 40 of the working party[101]: they
established themselves on the opposite bank, but advanced no farther;
here the British had still the lower course of the Pisuerga to protect
them, while Gauthier had no supports near, and halted, content to have
captured the bridge, which he began to repair.

Meanwhile, the bridge of Villa Muriel having been more efficiently
blown up, Maucune dispersed his voltigeur companies along the
river-bank, brought his artillery up to a favourable position, and
entered on a long desultory skirmish with Oswald, which lasted for
some hours. During this time he was searching for fords--several were
found[102], but all were deep and dangerous. About three o’clock in
the afternoon a squadron of cavalry forded one of them, apparently
unobserved, reached the western bank, and rolled up a company of
the 1/9th which it caught strung out along the river bickering with
the skirmishers on the other side. An officer and 33 men were taken
prisoners[103]. This passage was followed by that of eight voltigeur
companies, who established themselves on the other side, but clung to
the bank of the river, the British light troops having only retired
a few score of yards from it. Having thus got a lodgement beyond
the Carrion, Maucune resolved to cross in force, in support of his
voltigeurs. Arnauld’s brigade passed at the ford which had first been
used, Montfort’s at another, to the left of the broken bridge, farther
down the stream. The French seized the village of Villa Muriel, and
established themselves in force along the dry bed of the canal, a
little to its front. Wellington had expected that Maucune would come on
farther, and intended to charge him with the whole 5th Division when
he should begin to ascend the slope above the canal. But when, after
an hour or more, the enemy made no advance, it became necessary to
assume the offensive against him, since Foy was now across the Carrion
at Palencia, and, if he commenced to push forward, he might drive the
Spanish troops between him and Villa Muriel into Maucune’s arms. The
latter must be expelled before this danger should arise: wherefore at
about 4 o’clock a brigade of Losada’s Spaniards was sent against the
right of the French division, while Pringle’s brigade attacked its
front along the bed of the canal. The Spaniards made no progress--they
were indeed driven back, and rallied with difficulty by Wellington’s
friend General Alava, who was severely wounded. To replace them the
British brigade of Barnes was brought up, and told to storm Villa
Muriel--Spry’s Portuguese supporting. After a stiff fight Pringle and
Barnes swept all before them: the enemy yielded first on the right,
but held out for some time in the village, where he lost a certain
number of prisoners. He finally repassed the fords, and sought safety
in the plain on the eastern bank, where the French reserves were now
beginning to appear in immense force. ‘Their numbers were so great that
the fields appeared to our view almost black[104].’ Wellington wrote
home that he had hitherto under-estimated Souham’s force, and only now
realized that the Army of the North had brought up its infantry as well
as its cavalry. He, naturally, made no attempt to pursue the enemy
beyond the Carrion, and the fight died down into a distant cannonade
across the water[105].

The combat of Villa Muriel cost the 5th Division some 500
casualties--not including 43 men of the 3/1st, hurt or taken in
the separate fight at Palencia, or a few casualties in Ponsonby’s
dragoons in that same quarter. Maucune’s losses were probably not
far different--they must certainly have exceeded the ‘250 killed or
wounded, 30 prisoners and 6 drowned’ of the official report: for
one of Maucune’s regiments--the 15th Line--had 200 casualties by
itself[106]. Foy at Palencia lost very few men--though his statement of
‘three or four’ as their total can hardly be correct. He had taken 100
prisoners (27 of them British), and killed or wounded 60 more, mostly
Galicians[107]. The balance of the day’s losses was certainly against
the Allies.

Moreover, despite of Maucune’s repulse, the result of the day’s
fighting was much to Wellington’s detriment, since (though the loss of
the bridge of Tariego mattered little) the capture of Palencia ruined
his scheme for defending the line of the Carrion. Souham’s whole army
could follow Foy, and turn the left flank of the Allies behind that
river. Wherefore Wellington first threw back the left flank of the 5th
Division _en potence_, to make a containing line against Foy, while
its right flank still held the line of the river about Villa Muriel.
Under cover of this rearguard, the remainder of the army evacuated
its positions on each side of Dueñas at dawn on the 26th, and marched
down the Pisuerga to Cabezon, where it passed the river at the bridge
of that place and retired to the opposite side. The 5th Division
followed (unmolested by the enemy) in the early morning: at night
the entire allied army had retired across the broad stream, and was
lining its left bank from Valladolid upward, with that city (held by
the 7th Division) as the supporting point of its southern flank, and
its northern resting on the Cubillas river. This was one of the most
surprising and ingenious movements that Wellington ever carried out.
On the 23rd he was defending the right bank of the Pisuerga--on the
24th he was on the other side and defending its left bank in a much
stronger position. He was in no way sacrificing his communications
with Portugal or Madrid, since he had behind him two good bridges over
the Douro, those of Tudela and Puente Duero, with excellent roads
southward and westward to Medina del Campo, Arevalo, and Olmedo. The
enemy might refuse to attack him, and march down the west bank of the
Pisuerga towards the Douro, but Wellington had already provided for
the destruction of the three bridges of Simancas, Tordesillas, and
Toro, and the Douro was now a very fierce and broad barrier to further
progress, twice as difficult to cross as the Pisuerga. On the other
hand, if Souham should make up his mind to come down the Pisuerga on
its eastern bank, by the restored bridge of Tariego, there was an
excellent fighting position along the Cubillas river. But the roads on
this side of the Pisuerga were bad, and the country rough, while on the
western bank the ground was flat and fertile, and the line of march
easy.

Souham, therefore, advanced as was natural from Palencia southward, on
the right bank of the Pisuerga; on the 26th he withdrew Maucune and
Gauthier to that side, and on the 27th felt the position of Cabezon,
which he decided to be impregnable, and left alone. He placed the
infantry of the Army of the North opposite it, and moved southward with
the rest of his forces. On the 28th he tried the passage of Valladolid,
after driving out a battalion of Portuguese caçadores from the suburb
beyond the Pisuerga, and cannonading the 51st across the bridge. Here
too the obstacles looked most formidable, and the French, pursuing
their march, came to the bridge of Simancas, which was blown up in
their faces by Colonel Halkett, whose brigade of the 7th Division had
been placed in this part of the British line. Halkett then sent on one
of his three battalions (the Brunswick-Oels) to Tordesillas.

This was all quite satisfactory to Wellington, who had been able to
give his troops two days’ rest, and who saw that the enemy, despite of
his superior numbers, seemed to be brought to a nonplus by the position
behind the Pisuerga. But the next evening (October 29) brought very
untoward news. Foy’s division now formed the advance-guard of the Army
of Portugal: it reached and occupied Tordesillas, where the bridge
(like that of Simancas) had its main arch destroyed. A mediaeval tower
on the south bank of the ruined structure was held by a half-company
of the Brunswick-Oels infantry as an outlying picquet: the rest of
the battalion was encamped in a wood some hundreds of yards behind.
Considering that the river was broad and swift, and that all boats
had been carefully destroyed, it was considered that the passage
was impossible. Foy thought, however, that it was worth making the
hazardous attempt to cross: he called for volunteers, and collected
11 officers and 44 men, who undertook to attempt to ford the Douro
by swimming and wading. Their leader was Captain Guingret of the 6th
Léger, one of the minor historians of the war. They placed their
muskets and ammunition on a sort of raft formed of planks hastily
joined, which certain good swimmers undertook to tow and guide. At 4
o’clock in the afternoon the 55 adventurers pushed off the raft, and
plunged into the water, striking out in a diagonal direction. Meanwhile
Foy brought down his divisional battery to the shore, and began
shelling the tower at the bridge-end. The starting-point had been well
chosen, and the raft and swimmers were borne across the stream with
surprising speed, and came ashore a few yards from the tower, which,
all naked and with arms many of which had been soaked in the water and
would not fire, they proceeded to attack. The lieutenant in charge
of the Brunswick picquet and his men lost their heads in the most
disgraceful fashion; perhaps they were demoralized by the artillery
playing on them--at any rate, after firing some ill-directed shots,
they ran off--two were captured in the tower, nine others outside it.
The swimmers, now shivering with cold, for the afternoon was bleak,
took possession of the bridgehead, and Foy’s sappers at the other
end of the broken arch began to hurry forward ropes to establish a
communication with the captured tower[108].

The major in command of the Brunswick battalion, half a mile off,
behaved as badly as the subaltern at the tower. He should have come
down in force and thrown the handful of naked men into the river.
Instead of doing so he put his corps under arms in the edge of the
wood, and sent information to his brigadier asking for orders. By the
time that Halkett heard of the matter, a rough communication had been
made across the shattered bridge, and the French were streaming over.
Nothing was done, save to move reinforcements from the 7th Division to
block the two roads that diverge from the bridgehead south and west.

This extraordinary feat of Guingret’s party, one of the most dashing
exploits of the Peninsular War, altered Wellington’s position, much
for the worse. The enemy had now secured a crossing on the Douro
opposite his extreme left wing. He had already begun to move troops
in this direction, when he saw Foy pushing forward past Simancas, and
on the morning of the 29th had resolved to leave Valladolid and make
a general shift westward, parallel to the enemy. Soon after dawn the
bridge of Cabezon was blown up, and the British right wing retired,
under cover of the troops still holding Valladolid. When the right
wing (the 5th Division and the Galicians) had passed to the rear of
that city, and were nearing the Douro bridges (Tudela and Puente de
Duero) behind it, the centre of the British line (1st, 6th, and Pack’s
Portuguese) followed, and finally the left (two brigades of the 7th
Division) evacuated Valladolid after destroying the Pisuerga bridge,
and passed the Douro in the wake of the centre. All this was done with
no molestation from the enemy, and at nightfall on the 29th every man
was on the south of the Douro, and its bridges had been blown up after
the rearguards had passed.

Wellington had been intending to hold the line of that great river
till he should have certain news of how Hill--of whose operations the
next chapter treats--was faring in the south. Since he knew that the
troops from Madrid were coming to join him, he had purposed to maintain
himself behind the Douro till Hill came up to the Adaja. The news of
the passage of Foy at Tordesillas was therefore very vexatious; but
his counter-move was bold and effective. Before the enemy had fully
repaired the bridge, or got any large force across it, he marched to
Rueda with the 1st, 6th, and 7th Divisions, and advanced from thence
to the heights opposite Tordesillas, where he formed line of battle
only 1,200 yards from the Douro, and threw up a line of redoubts, so
strong that the enemy dared not push on. The first brigade to move out
from the bridge would obviously be destroyed, and there was no room for
large forces to deploy and attack. The enemy saw this, and instead of
debouching constructed a defensive bridgehead at Tordesillas[109].

Souham indeed, having occupied Valladolid and drawn up to the line
of the Douro, remained quiescent for six days. It looked as if his
offensive movement had come to an end. The main cause of his halt was
that Caffarelli, having assisted him in driving Wellington back to the
Douro, refused to follow him further, declaring that he must go back
at once to the North, from whence the most unsatisfactory news was
reaching him day by day. Both about Pampeluna, and round Bilbao, which
the Spaniards had once more seized, things were in a most dangerous
condition. After barely visiting Valladolid he turned on his heel,
and marching fast was back at Burgos again on November 6th[110].
Deprived of the strong cavalry brigade and the two infantry divisions
of the Army of the North, Souham was no longer in a condition to press
Wellington recklessly. He had now well under 40,000 men, instead of
nearly 50,000, with which to assail the Allies in their new and strong
position. Wherefore, he resolved to wait till he had news that Soult
and King Joseph were drawing near from the South. The King’s dispatches
had told him to avoid a general action, and to wait for the effect of
the great diversion that would soon be developing against Wellington’s
rear. Hence, mainly, came the halt, which caused his adversary to think
for some days that he might be able to draw at the line of the Douro
the limit of the French advance.

The first half of the retreat from Burgos was now at an end. To
understand the manœuvres of the second half, we must first explain the
doings of Soult, King Joseph, and General Hill in New Castile during
the last week of October.

SECTION XXXIV: CHAPTER IV

HILL’S RETREAT FROM MADRID

The crisis in front of Madrid, where Hill stood exposed to attack from
the mass of French forces in the kingdom of Valencia, developed late.
We have already seen that the first dispatch from the South which
disquieted Wellington only reached him on the 19th October, and that it
was not till the 21st that he realized that all his plans for hindering
a French advance on Madrid were ineffective, and that Hill was in
serious danger.

The long delay in Soult’s evacuation of Andalusia was--as has been
already remarked--the ultimate cause of the late appearance of the
advancing columns of the enemy in front of Madrid. It was not till
September 30 that the advanced cavalry of the Army of the South got
into touch with the outlying vedettes of Treillard’s dragoons, at
Tobarra near Hellin. Four days later Soult was in conference with King
Joseph, and the Marshals Jourdan and Suchet who had come out to meet
him, at Fuente la Higuera, some fifty miles farther on the road toward
Valencia. They met with various designs, though all were agreed that
the Allies must be driven out of the capital as soon as possible.
Suchet was mainly anxious to get the Army of the South, and the King
also, out of his own viceroyalty. Joseph’s troops were wasting his
stores, and harrying the peasantry, whose shearing he wished to reserve
for himself. Soult’s men were notoriously unruly, and at the present
moment half famished, after their long march through a barren land. The
Duke of Albufera was anxious to see them all started off for Madrid
at the earliest possible moment. His only personal demand was that he
should be allowed to borrow a division from one or the other army;
for, when they should be gone, he thought that he would have barely
enough men to hold off Mackenzie and the Spaniards of the Murcian
army. He promised, and produced, large convoys of food for the service
of the Armies of the South and Centre, but pleaded that in order to
make his only base and arsenal--the city of Valencia--quite safe,
it was necessary that they should leave him 5,000 extra troops: in
especial he pleaded for Palombini’s division, which had originally been
borrowed from his own army of Aragon. Jourdan--as he tells us in his
memoirs[111]--maintained that it was necessary to turn every possible
man upon Madrid, and that Suchet could defend himself against his old
enemies with his own army alone. He might, if hard pressed, call down
some troops from Catalonia.

But the real quarrel was between Soult and King Joseph. The first
was in a sullen and captious mood, because the King had caused him
to evacuate his much-prized viceroyalty in Andalusia, by refusing to
join him there in September. But Joseph was at a much higher pitch of
passion; not only did he still remember all Soult’s disobedience in
July and August, which (as he thought) had led to the unnecessary loss
of Madrid, but he had a new and a much more bitter grievance. Some time
before the Army of the South reached Valencia, he had become possessed
of the dispatch to the minister of war which Soult had written on
August 12th, in which he hinted that the King was meditating treachery
to his brother the Emperor, and had opened up negotiations with the
Cortes in order to betray the French cause[112]. This document--as has
been explained above--had been given by Soult to a privateer captain
bound from Malaga to Toulon, who had been forced to run into the
harbour of Valencia by the British blockading squadron. Not knowing the
contents of the document, the captain had handed it over to the King,
when he found him at Valencia. Thus Joseph was aware that the Marshal
had accused him, on the most flimsy evidence, of betraying his brother.
He was justly indignant, and had contemplated, in his first outburst
of rage, the arrest and supersession of Soult. His next impulse had
been to send off his confidential aide-de-camp Colonel Deprez, to seek
first the minister of war at Paris, and then the Emperor himself in
Russia[113], with his petition for vengeance. ‘Je demande justice. Que
le Maréchal Soult soit rappelé, entendu, et puni[114].’ If his enemy
had appeared at Valencia early in September, he would probably have
taken the most extreme measures against him. But three weeks had gone
by, his anger had had time to cool, and he could realize the danger
of attempting to seize and deport a marshal whose army was double the
size of his own and Suchet’s combined, and who had a powerful faction
to support him among his own generals. Joseph hoped that a mandate
for Soult’s recall and disgrace would soon be on its way from Russia,
and meanwhile curbed his temper, ignored the Marshal’s recent charges
of treachery, and contented himself with treating him with coldness,
and overruling many of his proposals, on the mere formal ground of
discipline. He was the commander-in-chief, and could accept or reject
the suggestions of a subordinate as he pleased. Soult was no longer
three hundred miles away, as he had been in June, and orders given
by a superior on the spot could be enforced, unless the Marshal were
prepared to break out into open insubordination.

There was no difference of opinion as to the necessity for marching on
Madrid. But wrangling arose as to the amount of troops that would be
needed for the operation. Soult said that every possible man would be
required, and wished to march with the entire Army of the South on San
Clemente and Ocaña, while he suggested that the King, with the Army
of the Centre and a large detachment taken from Suchet, should move
by Requeña and Cuenca. Suchet protested in the most vigorous fashion
against being stripped of any of his divisions, and maintained that it
was rather necessary that he should be lent 5,000 men from the Armies
of the Centre of the South. The King and Jourdan refused to consider
the latter proposition, but agreed that Suchet would require all his
own troops, and that none should be taken from him. Yet approving of
the double movement on Madrid, they declared that the Army of the
Centre was too small to operate by itself, and that Soult should make
over to it Barrois’s division and a brigade of light cavalry, to bring
it up to the necessary strength. Soult protested loudly: the Emperor
had entrusted the army of the South to him; he was responsible for it;
it was one and indivisible, and so forth[115].

Joseph then put the matter to him in the form of a simple order to set
these troops on a certain route on a certain day. The Marshal did not
dare to disobey, but stated that he regarded them as still belonging to
his army, and should continue to expect reports from their commanders.
This left him with a force of five infantry and three cavalry
divisions, disencumbered of his sick, and of 2,000 old, weakly, or
time-expired men, who marched to Valencia to join the next convoy that
Suchet should send to France. Their total (omitting Barrois and the
cavalry taken off by Joseph) made up 30,000 infantry, 6,000 horse, and
with engineers, artillery, train, &c., just 40,000 men. The Army of the
Centre on October 15th showed (including Palombini, the King’s Guard
and the Spaniards) about 15,000 present under arms, to which must be
added Barrois and the two cavalry regiments that accompanied him[116],
making 6,000 men between them. Thus the total force with which Joseph
and Soult marched on Madrid was over 60,000 men[117].

The object of dividing the advancing army into two columns was not
merely to make it more easy for the troops to find food in a desolate
country, but much more to carry out a strategical plan. If the whole
army had moved by the high road through La Mancha, it would have had
no power to communicate with the Army of Portugal. The King’s idea was
that the northern column, which marched by Cuenca, and which he himself
accompanied, would ultimately get into touch with Souham, who had been
directed--by dispatches which reached him too late or not at all--to
follow Wellington in such a way that he would be able to outflank
him on the Upper Douro, and open up communications by the route of
Aranda, the Somosierra Pass, and Guadalajara, with the main French
Army. But Souham, when he commenced his advance against Wellington
on October 18th, had no order from the King later than a letter of
October 1st, written before Soult had arrived in the kingdom of
Valencia. He received no more dispatches while engaged in his pursuit
of Wellington, and was unaware of Joseph’s later plans, so that when he
reached Valladolid he made no endeavour to feel to his left, towards
Aranda, but rather extended himself to his right, in the direction of
Tordesillas and Toro, a movement which took him entirely away from
the direction in which the King hoped to find him. They did not get
into touch, or combine their operations in any way, till November
had arrived. At the same time the advance of a large body of troops
by the route of Cuenca turned out most profitable in the end to the
French strategy, for it was precisely this flanking column, of great
but unknown strength, which compelled Hill to abandon his intention
of defending the lines of the Tagus or the Tajuna. However he might
place himself opposite Soult’s army coming from the South, he had this
threatening force beyond his eastern flank, turning his positions by
roads too remote for him to guard.

King Joseph had proposed to commence his march upon Madrid at the
earliest possible moment--at the interview with the three marshals
at Fuente la Higuera he had named the 9th October as the date for
starting. But Soult declared, after a few days, that this was
impossible, owing to the necessity for collecting the convoys that
Suchet was sending him, replenishing his ammunition, and bringing up
his rearmost troops. The division of Conroux had picked up the yellow
fever, by plundering out of its route, during the march through Murcia.
It had been left in quarantine, some days behind the rest of the army,
and would take time to come up. It is probable that Soult was not
really wasting time of set purpose; but the King was certainly under
the impression that he was doing so, and their correspondence was most
acrimonious[118]. Special offence was given by Joseph’s withdrawing
Drouet from the Army of the South, and entrusting him with the command
of that of the Centre. But when Soult murmured at this and other
things, the King sent him a laconic letter of ten lines, telling him
that if he refused to obey orders he had better resign his command
and go to Paris, where he would have to give account for all his
doings. The Marshal, as on previous occasions when the question of his
resignation had been pressed home[119], avoided this simple solution of
the problem, and yielded a grudging obedience in the end.

Soult’s army was at this time cantoned with its right wing about
Almanza, Yecla, and Fuente la Higuera, and its left wing--now about to
become its advanced guard--in and around the large town of Albacete.
A detachment from this wing had been for the last ten days attacking
the isolated rock-fortress of Chinchilla, the only inland stronghold
which was held by the Spaniards in the kingdom of Murcia. It was a
Gothic donjon on an inaccessible cliff, only formidable because of its
position, and manned by a trifling garrison. It might have held out
indefinitely, having a resolute governor, a certain Colonel Cearra.
But on October 9th, in a frightful thunderstorm, lightning struck the
donjon, killed 15 soldiers, wounded many more, set the place on fire,
and disabled the governor[120]. The garrison capitulated in sheer
dismay, and the use by the French of the high road between Albacete
and Almanza was no longer incommoded by the existence of this petty
fortress.

King Joseph with the Army of the Centre marched out from Valencia
on October 17th, and had his head-quarters at Requeña on the road
to Cuenca on the 19th. On the 23rd he reached that ancient and much
dilapidated city, and found it already in the hands of Drouet, who
had arrived there on the 20th with Barrois’s division and the cavalry
brigade of Avy from the Army of the South: he had expelled from it
Bassecourt’s 3,000 Murcian troops. Soult had started on the 15th from
Albacete, and had sent off Drouet’s detachment from San Clemente to
Cuenca, while he himself marched by Belmonte on Tarancon and Santa
Cruz de la Zarza, which he reached on October 25th. He had not got
into real touch with the enemy till, on the last-named day, the
cavalry on the right of his advance came into contact with Freire’s
Murcian horse in front of Tarancon, and those on his left ran into the
vedettes of Long’s British dragoons in front of Ocaña. During the time
of his advance these troops had been retiring in front of him, from
Consuegra, Toboso, Almonacid, Belmonte, and other places in La Mancha,
where they had been providing a long screen of posts to observe his
movements. They had, by Hill’s orders, retired from the 18th onward
before the French cavalry, without allowing themselves to be caught
up. It was only immediately in front of the Tagus that they slackened
down their pace, and allowed the French to discover them. There was a
smart skirmish in front of Ocaña on October 25th, between Bonnemain’s
brigade and the 9th and 13th Light Dragoons and 10th Portuguese
cavalry. The allied squadrons were pushed back towards Aranjuez with
the loss of some 30 men, Erskine, who was in command of the cavalry
division, refusing to make a stand or to bring up his reserves. His
management of the troops was (not for the first time) much criticized
by eye-witnesses[121], but it must be remembered that Hill had directed
him not to commit himself to a serious action. On the same day Freire’s
horse were turned out of Tarancon by Perreymond’s chasseurs.

The position of the commander of Wellington’s detached corps in front
of Madrid had become a very responsible one between the 15th, when
Soult’s advance began, and the 24th, when the enemy came up to the line
of the Tagus and developed his attack. Fortunately Hill was in close
touch with his chief: so well was the line of communication between
them kept up, that it only took two days for a letter from Burgos
to reach Madrid--and vice versa. When the army had come back from
the Arlanzon to the Douro, the time became even shorter. Wellington
received at Cabezon on the evening of October 27th dispatches that Hill
had written on the morning of the 26th[122]. This contrasts wonderfully
with the slow travelling of French correspondence--Souham got at
Briviesca on October 17 a letter written by King Joseph at Valencia on
October 1st. It had been obliged to travel by the absurdly circuitous
route of Tortosa, Saragossa and Tudela. Truly the guerrilleros made
concerted movements of French armies singularly difficult.

On the 17th October Hill had already got off his first letter of alarm
to Wellington, saying that Soult was certainly on the move; by the
19th he knew that there was a column moving upon Cuenca, as well as
the larger force which was advancing by San Clemente and Belmonte. He
asked for orders, but meanwhile had to issue his own, in consonance
with earlier directions received from Wellington. These presupposed
two conditions which had not been realized--that the fords of the
Tagus would be impassable, and that Ballasteros’s Andalusian army
would already have crossed the Sierra Morena to Alcaraz and be lying
on Soult’s flank. But their general directions were still practicable:
the line of the Tagus was to be defended unless the enemy were in
overwhelming strength: if (contrary to Wellington’s expectation) the
whole French force in Valencia should advance, and its numbers prove
greater than Hill could hope to check, he had been directed to evacuate
Madrid, and to fall back beyond the Guadarrama, in order to join his
chief on the Adaja, south of Valladolid, in Old Castile[123]. The
first thing necessary was to discover the strength of the enemy--all
accounts sent in by the Spaniards agreed that it was very great, and
in particular, that the column going by Cuenca was no mere detachment,
but a solid and considerable force. Meanwhile Wellington, even as late
as October 12[124], had been informing Hill that his design of marching
down on Madrid with three divisions, when the siege of Burgos should be
either successfully concluded or else abandoned, was still retained.
Any morning a dispatch might come to say that the commander-in-chief,
with 15,000 men, was on his way to Valladolid; and therefore the army
in front of Madrid must be ready for him, concentrated and in marching
order. For if he came in person with such a reinforcement, Soult and
King Joseph could be fought and beaten, whenever they made their
appearance.

On October 15th, when the French advance had actually begun, the
allied troops in New Castile were disposed with an outer screen,
mainly consisting of Spanish troops, and a central nucleus of Hill’s
own Anglo-Portuguese placed in cantonments between Madrid and the
Tagus. Bassecourt was at Cuenca with 3,000 men; Elio, with Freire’s
Murcian horse and a weak division of infantry--5,000 men in all--was
watching the high roads from Albacete and Requeña to Madrid, in front
of Tarancon. Penne Villemur’s cavalry with Morillo’s infantry--3,500
men at the most--lay across the great chaussée from Andalusia,
about Herencia and Madridejos[125]. These troops formed the outer
screen--not taking account of the Empecinado, who was (as usual) on
the borders of New Castile and Aragon, worrying Suchet’s garrisons in
the latter kingdom. Behind Penne Villemur, and south of the Tagus,
were Long’s British and H. Campbell’s Portuguese cavalry brigades,
in La Mancha, at Toboso, Villacanas, and other places. All the rest
of the British troops were north of the Tagus, in the triangle
Madrid-Toledo-Fuentedueñas, as were also D’Urban’s Portuguese horse and
Carlos de España’s Spanish infantry division. When the advance of Soult
and King Joseph developed itself, Hill drew everything back behind
the Tagus, save Bassecourt’s division at Cuenca, which being evicted
from that place by Drouet on the 20th did not retire towards Madrid,
but went up into the mountains, and ultimately by circuitous routes
rejoined the Alicante army.

On the 25th October, when Soult’s advanced cavalry had driven Long and
Freire from Ocaña and Tarancon, Hill had his whole force, British,
Portuguese and Spanish, arrayed in what he intended to be his
preliminary fighting position along the Tagus. The extreme right was
formed by Skerrett’s 4,000 men from Cadiz, who had got up to the front
just in time to take their share in the fighting. They lay at Toledo
and Añover. Then came the four brigades of the British 2nd Division,
two of them at Aranjuez--which was held as a sort of _tête de pont_
south of the river--and two at Colmenar de Orija. The line beyond them
was prolonged by Penne Villemur and Morillo about Belmonte de Tajo and
the fords of Villamanrique. Elio and Freire, who had retired across
the bridge of Fuentedueñas after being driven out of Tarancon, was
in charge of the upper Tagus from that point to Sacedon. Behind this
front line lay the reserves--the 3rd and 4th Divisions close together
at Valdemoro and Cienpozuelos, behind Aranjuez; the Light Division at
Arganda; Carlos de España at Camporeal; Hamilton’s Portuguese division
at Chinchon. Of the cavalry, Long and Campbell’s Portuguese, after
being turned out of Ocaña, had fallen back on Aranjuez: D’Urban’s
Portuguese were at Arganda, Slade’s brigade at Morata, Victor Alten’s
at Getafe[126]. One march would concentrate the whole of the Allies,
horse and foot--save Elio and Skerrett’s detachment alone--to defend
the passage of the Tagus at either Aranjuez or Fuentedueñas, the
two crossing-places which Hill judged that Soult would take into
consideration, when he attempted to force the line of the river. About
36,000 men would be available, of whom 28,000 were Anglo-Portuguese and
8,000 Spaniards.

Soult, however, kept perfectly quiescent in front of Aranjuez and
Fuentedueñas on the 26th-27th. He had still his cavalry to the front,
but his infantry divisions were only coming up in succession: Conroux’s
in especial, being still in quarantine owing to the yellow fever, was
very far behind. But it was not merely the late arrival of his rear
that kept Soult motionless: he was waiting for the Cuenca column to
bring pressure to bear upon Hill’s flank, and did not intend to commit
himself to any important engagements until the whole French army was
in line. He expressed to King Joseph his opinion that the Allies were
drawn out upon too long a front, and that a bold thrust at Aranjuez
would probably succeed, when the attention of Hill should be drawn away
to the East by the appearance of the Cuenca column in the direction
of Fuentedueñas. Meanwhile he proceeded to make his preparations for
attacking Aranjuez on the 28th.

Such an attack was never delivered, because Hill, on the evening of the
27th, made up his mind that he must not fight upon the Tagus[127]. For
this determination there were three causes. The first was that the
river still remained so low, the autumn rains having been very scanty
hitherto, that it was fordable in many places. The mere breaking of
the bridges at Aranjuez and Fuente Dueñas did not make it impassable,
as Wellington and Hill himself had expected would be the case by the
end of October. Secondly, if the line of the Tagus were forced at any
point, the troops strung out along it had a very dangerous retreat
before them, owing to the fact that the Tajuna, a stream not much
smaller than the Tagus itself in this part of its course, runs behind
it and parallel to it at a distance of only eight or ten miles. The
number of spots where the Tajuna could be crossed, by fords, bridges,
or ferries, were very few, and it was to be feared that bodies of
troops abandoning positions on the Tagus, and retreating to the next
line, might find themselves pressed against the Tajuna at impassable
sections of its course, and so might be destroyed or captured if the
enemy pursued with vigour. Thirdly--as Soult expected--the movement of
the King and the column from Cuenca had now begun to exercise pressure
on Hill’s mind. He had already moved two British brigades of the 2nd
Division to Fuente Dueñas, replacing them at Aranjuez by Skerrett’s
force, which left Toledo. But what if the King should cross the Tagus
not at Fuente Dueñas but above it, where the river was only observed by
Elio’s Murcians? They certainly could not stop him, and the whole Tagus
line would be turned.

Hill’s resolve was now to defend not the Tagus but the line, running
North and South, of the Henares and the Jarama (the river formed by
the union of the Tajuna and Manzanares), from Guadalajara to the
point near the Puente Larga where the Jarama falls into the Tagus. On
the 28th Skerrett evacuated Aranjuez, and all the other troops fell
back in similar fashion. This position left the allied army still
covering Madrid, and with a safe retreat to the passes above it, should
things go ill. The new disposition of forces was as follows: Toledo
had been handed over to the _partida_ of El Medico, since no French
reconnaissances had come in this direction, and it was clear that the
enemy had no serious intentions on this flank. The extreme right wing
of the army was formed by the 4th Division, now once more under General
Cole, who had come up, cured of his wound, from the Salamanca hospital.
It lay at Añover, behind the point where the Jarama flows into the
Tagus, with its flank covered by the Gunten river and some of Long’s
dragoons. Next in line, six miles to the North, was Skerrett’s force,
holding the Puente Larga, the main passage over the Jarama river,
two miles north of Aranjuez. Beyond him were the 3rd Division and
Hamilton’s Portuguese about Valdemoro and St. Martin de la Vega. Then
came the Light Division at Alcalá de Henares[128]: Carlos de España’s
and Morillo’s Spaniards were in their company. Elio’s Murcians were
directed to fall back on Guadalajara. So much for the infantry: the
cavalry was kept out in front, with orders to keep a line of vedettes
on the Tagus till they should be driven in, and then to hold the course
of the Tajuna in a similar fashion, before breaking its bridges and
falling back on to the Henares and Jarama, the real fighting line. But
nothing was to be risked, and the main body of each brigade was to keep
itself in front of a practicable crossing, by which it could retreat
when the enemy should have shown himself in force. ‘Sir Rowland,’
wrote his Quartermaster-General, ‘wishes you to keep the posts on the
Tajuna, and those in front of it (on the Tagus), as long as you can
with safety. Cover the line of the Henares _as long as you can_.’[129]
Slade’s, Long’s, and Campbell’s Portuguese squadrons had the right,
covering the river bank from Aranjuez to Villamanrique with their
vedettes, D’Urban, Victor Alten, and Penne Villemur held the left, from
Villamanrique up stream.

On Oct. 28th the French cavalry, having detected the disappearance
of Hill’s infantry, crossed the Tagus both at Aranjuez and Fuente
Dueñas in force, whereupon the allied horse retired behind the Tajuna
and broke all of its bridges. Soult at once commenced to repair the
bridges of Aranjuez, and brought an infantry division forward into the
town on the 29th, but made no serious effort to feel Hill’s position
behind the Jarama and Tajuna, being determined not to involve himself
in heavy fighting till King Joseph and the column from Cuenca were up
in line. The head of the Army of the Centre, however, reached Fuente
Dueñas this same day, and began to pass[130], meeting (of course) with
no opposition. But the reconstruction of the bridge took some time,
and D’Erlon’s infantry was not across the Tagus in any force till the
next day. The King himself rode to Ocaña, conferred there with Soult,
and made arrangements for a general forward movement upon the 30th.
There would have been heavy fighting upon the 30th-31st, if Hill had
been permitted to make a stand on his chosen position with the 40,000
men whom he had placed in line between Alcalá and Añover. He had now
all his troops concentrated except Elio’s Murcians, who lay out in the
direction of Guadalajara with no enemy in front of them. But on the
morning of the 29th Hill received a dispatch from Wellington, dated
from Cabezon on the night of the 27th, which upset all the arrangements
made hitherto. The important paragraph of it ran as follows: ‘The enemy
are infinitely superior to us in cavalry, and from what I saw to-day
very superior in infantry also. We must retire, and the Douro is no
barrier for us. If we go, and cannot hold our ground beyond the Douro,
your situation will become delicate. We certainly cannot stand against
the numbers opposed to us in any situation, and it appears to me to be
necessary that you, as well as we, should retire. The only doubt which
I entertain is about the road which you should take, and that doubt
originates in the insufficiency of this army to stop the army opposed
to it for a sufficient time to allow you to reach the Adaja. I propose
to remain on the Pisuerga to-morrow (October 28) and as long as I can
upon the Douro, and then to retire by Arevalo. God knows whether I
shall be able to remain on either river!; and if I cannot, your retreat
should be by the valley of the Tagus. If I can remain, we should
join as arranged by previous letters. If I can remain on the Pisuerga
to-morrow, I shall pass the Douro on the 29th, and shall probably be
able to prevent the enemy from crossing in force till the 1st November,
in which case I shall reach Arevalo on the 3rd. You will not receive
this letter till the 29th. You will arrive at the Escurial, probably
on the 31st, at Villacastin on the 2nd, at Arevalo on the 4th....
If I should not be able to hold my ground either on the Pisuerga or
the Douro, I shall apprise you of it at the first moment, and shall
suggest your line of retreat.... Your march, as proposed (i.e. via the
Guadarrama) at least as far as Villacastin, would be secure, whereas
that by Talavera, &c., would not, till you shall cross the Tagus. Do
not order the bridge at Almaraz to be taken up or destroyed, till you
are certain you do not want it.’[131] The dispatch ended by directing
Hill to bring on with him Carlos de España’s, Morillo’s, and Penne
Villemur’s Spaniards, but to order Freire, Elio, and Bassecourt to join
Ballasteros by the route of Toledo, while the Empecinado had better go
to his old haunts in the mountains beyond Guadalajara.

This was a most alarming dispatch for Hill. Just as he had assumed
his fighting position, and was expecting to be attacked by Soult on
the following day, he received orders to retire without a moment’s
delay. And what was worst of all, he was told that the line of
retreat indicated to him would not improbably prove dangerous or
impossible, and that he might, within the next day or so, get a
counter-order, directing him to retire by the line of the Tagus and
Almaraz, since a junction with Wellington behind the Adaja might prove
impossible. But a retreat across the front of the enemy, on the route
Navalcarnero-Talavera-Almaraz, would clearly be most dangerous, since
the left wing of the Army (the Light Division, D’Urban, Alten and the
Spaniards) would have forty miles to march before they were clear of
the advancing columns of the French, debouching from Aranjuez. And to
make matters worse, the enemy was terribly strong in cavalry, and the
countryside south of Madrid was very favourable to the mounted arm. If
the army should march at once for the road by the Guadarrama, and when
it had reached the neighbourhood of Madrid or the Escurial should get
the news that the route to Villacastin and Arevalo had been blocked,
it would be almost impossible to turn off on to the Tagus line or
to make for Almaraz. The only chance left would be to take the bad
mountain-road to Avila, and thence to the upper Tormes, a choice that
no officer could contemplate without dismay in October.

There was one plea that might have been urged in favour of an instant
move toward Talavera and the Tagus route (the right wing to march by
Illescas and Fuensalida, the left by Madrid and Navalcarnero), but it
was a plea of which neither Wellington nor Hill seems to have thought.
Supposing that Hill’s 40,000 men after uncovering and evacuating Madrid
should place themselves behind the Alberche, in and about Talavera,
it was difficult to believe that Soult and King Joseph would dare to
march north to join Souham and to trouble Wellington. They could hardly
leave 40,000 men behind them uncontained, and would probably have to
halt and to face toward Hill, so as to cover the capital. This threat
to their flank and their rear might force the enemy to come to a stop,
and might secure Wellington’s rear as effectually as a junction with
him at Arevalo behind the Adaja. But on the other hand there were
two considerations which tended to make any use of the Tagus route
undesirable, save on compulsion and as a _pis aller_. The first was
that the whole valley from Toledo to Almaraz was in a state of dreadful
exhaustion, with half its land untilled and its population living on
the edge of starvation. To subsist there would be difficult. The second
and more important was that the enemy might conceivably leave Soult
and the Army of the South to hold Madrid and contain Hill’s force, and
then would still possess 20,000 men--of the Cuenca column--who might be
sent by the Guadarrama and Villacastin to take Wellington in the rear.
It would be of little use to bring the enemy to a standstill in the
direction of Madrid, if he could still spare a detachment which would
make Wellington’s position in Old Castile hopelessly untenable, and
might even put him in grave danger of being overwhelmed.

But ‘sufficient for the day is the evil thereof’ was no doubt the
reflection of Rowland Hill, a pious man well acquainted with his Bible.
He had for the present a clear order to march for the Escurial,
the Guadarrama, and Arevalo. That it might be cancelled if certain
circumstances, over which he had no control, should occur on the Douro,
was an unpleasant possibility, which did not come into consideration on
the 29th of October. Accordingly he gave orders for instant retreat.
There was little immediate danger to his left wing, since the French
column in front of it, at Fuente Dueñas, had to pass first the defiles
of the Tajuna and then those of the Jarama, and all the bridges on
both were destroyed or ready for destruction. The right wing was in
a much more delicate situation, since it was separated from Soult at
Aranjuez only by the Jarama. The outposts of the two armies were in
close touch with each other at the Puente Larga, with nothing but the
river between; and the 4th Division at Añover had to pass behind the
force holding the Puente Larga in order to get into the Madrid road.
Supposing that bridge were forced too soon, Cole would be driven off in
an eccentric line of retreat toward Toledo and Talavera.

While, therefore, all the rest of the army was set in motion for the
Escurial at dawn on the 30th, Skerrett was ordered to stand still at
the Puente Larga, and to hold it at all costs till the rest of the
allied right wing should have got clear. Meanwhile the troops about
Alcalá (the Light Division, España and Morillo) marched round the north
side of Madrid without entering the city, and continuing their course
all day and part of the night, were on the upper Manzanares, about
the palace of El Pardo by 12 p.m. At the same time the troops about
Valdemoro (3rd Division, Hamilton’s Portuguese, and the bulk of the
cavalry) retired past the south side of Madrid, and reached Aravaca,
on its west side two miles out, by night. Here Hill established his
head-quarters. The 4th Division, from Añover, which had the longest
march of all, had been started off before the bulk of the army, on
the night of the 29th, not at dawn on the 30th like the rest. It fell
into the main road at Valdemoro before daybreak, much fatigued; while
halting there the weary men discovered more wine than was good for
them--the population had fled and left their cellars exposed for the
first comer. There was a terrible amount of drunkenness, and so much
straggling, when the division marched off at noon, that many hundreds
of men, hidden in houses in a state of absolute incapacity to move,
were left behind[132]. The division, minus its drunkards, joined the
rest of the right wing at Aravaca that night. Cole remained behind
himself--while his troops marched on--to supervise the defence of the
Puente Larga. He had been told to take on Skerrett’s brigade as a part
of his division till further orders, and naturally stopped with the
rearguard.

By the night of the 30th all the army was concentrated beyond Madrid,
without having seen an enemy or suffered any molestation, save
Skerrett’s detachment, which was fighting all day at the Puente Larga
for the protection of the rest. Soult, as Hill had expected, had
resolved to force the line of the Jarama and Tajuna that day. But
while on the right his cavalry felt forward only to the Tajuna and its
broken bridges, on the left he was already in touch with his enemy, for
the Puente Larga is only two miles outside Aranjuez, from which the
approach to it lies along one of the great avenues of planes that form
part of the royal Park between the Tagus and Jarama.

The Puente Larga is an immensely long bridge of 16 arches, for the
Jarama in winter is a very broad river. Its southern end is commanded
by a slight rising ground, its northern lies in the flat and ends in
a causeway, by which the road finally mounts up on to the plateau of
Valdemoro. Thus it would have been easier to defend from the south than
from the north, as Skerrett had to do. An attempt had been made to blow
up one of the centre arches of the bridge, but though two mines had
been laid, their explosion on the morning of the 30th did not make a
complete breach, one parapet and a broad section of the footway beside
it remaining intact. The engineer officer in charge, holding that
there was no time to make another mine, had a breastwork covered by an
abattis thrown up across the northern end of the bridge. Here then was
a sort of terrace with balustrades and stone seats, where the bridge
and causeway met. Behind the breastwork and the terrace Skerrett placed
his two companies of the 95th Rifles and part of the 2/47th, while
behind the nearer part of the causeway there was room for the supports,
the rest of the 47th and the 2/87th in close column. The ridge of the
causeway almost completely sheltered them from fire from the French
side of the river, even from the most elevated ground. Three guns of
Braun’s Portuguese battery were prepared for action on the right end of
the terrace, behind the hastily extemporized breastwork. Half a mile
to the rear, at the north end of the causeway, was Skerrett’s reserve,
composed of the 3rd batt. of the First Guards, the 20th Portuguese,
and the remaining three pieces of Braun’s battery. The whole defending
force of five battalions and six guns was somewhat under 4,000 strong.

Soult was not certain whether Hill was intending to fight on the line
of the Jarama, or whether he had merely to drive in a rearguard. The
day was very misty from dawn onward, and at 9 o’clock in the morning
rain began, and fell continuously till night. Thus the Marshal could
not see in the least what sort of a force was opposed to him, and his
cavalry, exploring up and down the river bank, were unable to find any
practicable fords, or to give him any information as to whether there
were allied troops holding the entire course of the Jarama. After some
hours, therefore, Soult sent forward Reymond’s division[133] with
orders to force the Puente Larga, as he had been informed that it was
still passable owing to the failure of the mines. A battery took post
on the rising ground at the south end of the bridge, and shelled the
breastwork and the Portuguese guns, while the voltigeur companies
of the 12th Léger strung, themselves out along the river bank, and
commenced a long bickering fusillade with Skerrett’s men across the
water. The artillery and musketry fight went on for some hours, till
Braun’s three pieces ceased firing for want of ammunition. Thinking
this a favourable moment, Soult sent part of the 12th Léger against the
bridge--the head of the column never reached the narrow pass at the
half-broken eighth arch, suffering so much from the musketry that it
fell back in disorder before getting half-way across. Another regiment,
or the same re-formed, attempted a similar rush a few minutes later,
and was repulsed in the same fashion. Thereupon Soult ordered the
attack to cease, ‘seeing,’ as he says in his dispatch, ‘that we were
wasting ammunition to no effect.’ He drew off both his guns and his
voltigeurs, and the combat came to an end. A French officer appeared
on to the bridge with a white flag a little later, and got permission
to remove the many wounded lying at its south end. After dark Skerrett
withdrew very quietly, leaving dummy sentries on the bridge head and
the causeway, who were only detected as straw-stuffed great-coats at
dawn next morning. The brigade, therefore, had an undisturbed march all
night, and halted next morning on the Prado of Madrid, where it was
allowed a few hours of rest. Its loss had been about 3 officers and 60
men killed and wounded, of whom 40 were in the 2/47th and 11 in the
rifle companies. The French had five officers and about 100 men killed
and wounded[134]. The whole fight was much what the combat of the Coa
would have been in 1810, if Craufurd had fought behind and not before
the bridge of Almeida.

Soult had deduced, from the stubborn way in which the Puente Larga was
defended, that Hill was standing to fight a general action behind the
Jarama. He made during the night preparations for bringing up much
artillery and constructing bridges, but discovered at dawn that his
exertions had been unnecessary. Cavalry under Pierre Soult were pushed
out as far as Valdemoro, and captured there some 300 drunken stragglers
belonging to the 4th Division, who had not thought fit to follow
Skerrett when he passed through. The day was one of dense fog, and the
younger Soult never got in touch with Hill’s rearguard, but picked up
a rumour that Wellington was expected at Madrid that day, with two
divisions from Burgos, and that the whole allied army was prepared to
deliver battle in a position outside the capital. In consequence, his
brother the Marshal held back, and contented himself with bringing up
the entire Army of the South to the Jarama, while he sent his false
news to King Joseph and Jourdan. He proposed that the Cuenca column
should make no attempt to force the higher course of the Tajuna, where
all the bridges were broken, and behind which lay the equally tiresome
obstacle of the Henares, but should come round to Aranjuez and cross
by the Puente Larga. Jourdan advised compliance, remarking that the
forcing of the lines of the Tajuna and Henares and the making of
bridges upon them might take many days. To save time the right wing
came round to join the left[135].

This was a godsend to Hill, as it resulted in no pursuit being made
on the 31st; the French advanced cavalry only entered Madrid on the
1st November, and the second of that month had arrived before any
infantry reached the capital. By that day the allied army was over
the Guadarrama, and well on its way to Villacastin and Arevalo. The
evacuation of Madrid was accompanied with many distressing incidents:
the people were in despair at seeing themselves about to fall back once
more into the power of the ‘Intrusive King’. Many of the notables had
committed themselves so openly to the patriotic cause that they thought
it wise to depart in company with Hill’s army. An order to burn the
considerable stores of provisions which could not be brought off led
to a riot--the lower classes were on the edge of starvation, and the
sight of good food being wasted led them to make a disorderly rush on
the magazines, to drive away the commissaries, and to carry off the
flour and salt meat which was being destroyed. Probably it would have
been wise to permit them to do so without making difficulties; as the
stores, once dispersed, could hardly have been gathered in again by
the enemy. The explosion of the Arsenal in the Retiro fort was a more
absolute necessity, but the Madrileños murmured greatly that the large
building of La China, the porcelain manufactory, was blown up along
with the surrounding earthworks. The mines, it may be incidentally
remarked, were so carelessly laid that two commissariat officers were
killed by the first of them that went off, and the last nearly made an
end of Captain Cleeves, K.G.L., the artillery officer in charge of
the business. He was severely scorched, and barely escaped with his
life[136].

The rearguard of the British Army quitted the mourning city by noon on
the 31st October: the head of the column was already on that day at the
Escurial. On November 1st the passage of the Guadarrama began, and on
the 3rd the last cavalry brigade, bringing up the rear, was over the
mountains. Not a sign had been seen of the enemy, whose advanced light
cavalry only reached Galapagar, five miles south of the Escurial upon
the 2nd. The weather, however, was very bad, rain falling day after
day, and this must serve as an inadequate excuse for the fact that
straggling had already begun, and that a certain number of men dropped
so far behind that they fell into the hands of the tardily-appearing
enemy. But the loss of these laggards, for the most part the selected
bad characters of each battalion, was a small price to pay for an
unmolested retreat. Hill’s spirits rose, hour by hour, as he received
no letter from Wellington to say that the retreat to Arevalo had become
impossible, or that the line of the Douro had been lost. These terrible
possibilities might--so far as he knew--have come into existence at any
moment on the 1st, 2nd, or 3rd of November. On the 4th the whole army
from Madrid was concentrated at Villacastin, so close to Wellington’s
position behind the Douro at Rueda that dispatches could now get
through from him to Hill in less than twelve hours. The cavalry of the
extreme rearguard--the 2nd Hussars K.G.L., who had left the Escurial
only on the 3rd, had barely seen the enemy’s advanced vedettes on that
day, and were not overtaken by them till late on the 4th. The pursuit
was slow, cautious, and not executed by any very large body of horse.
Hill, therefore, granted his troops a very necessary rest of twelve
hours at Villacastin.

At last, however, on the evening of November 4th, when the worst
possibilities seemed to have passed by, and nothing could any longer
prevent Hill from joining Wellington, discouraging news, so long
expected, at last came to hand. A dispatch from Rueda informed Hill
that his chief had determined to retreat from the line of the Douro,
for reasons which will be explained in the next chapter, and that the
position in which he intended to fight was that in front of Salamanca,
where he had faced and beaten Marmont in July. This being so, there was
no reason to bring up Hill’s corps to Arevalo. Since a junction between
the two halves of the army was now secure, the troops from Madrid
should save themselves an unnecessary détour to the north, by turning
off the _chaussée_ to Valladolid and taking the cross-road by Belayos,
Villanueva de Gomez, and Peñaranda. This would bring them to Alba de
Tormes, where they would find themselves in touch with Wellington’s
own troops, which would move, by La Nava and Cantalpino, to the San
Cristobal position outside Salamanca.

This march therefore Hill executed. On the 4th he had at last heard of
the appearance of Soult’s cavalry, and that same evening his extreme
rearguard, the 2nd Hussars of the K.G.L. had a slight engagement with
French squadrons near Villacastin. But nothing was known of the main
body of the enemy’s infantry, nor was it even certain whether the Army
of the South and the Army of the Centre were both pursuing by the route
of the Guadarrama. Soult, as a matter of fact, had only made up his
mind to cross the mountains by that route on the 3rd, and nothing but
the light cavalry of his brother was near Hill’s rear. On the 4th, 5th,
and 6th November his main body was coming up, and he was in force at
Arevalo on the last-named day. Only the horse of his advanced guard had
followed Hill on the Peñaranda road. The object of the move on Arevalo
was to seek for the Army of Portugal, of which no certain news had yet
been obtained. The Duke of Dalmatia supposed however that it had to be
looked for on the side of Tordesillas, and wished to communicate with
it before he pressed Hill too closely. For if the latter had united
with Wellington--as was very possible--he might have found himself
in face of more than 60,000 men, and he had but 40,000 of his own,
since the Army of the Centre was not yet up in line. The King himself
with his Guards followed Soult after a short interval, but the three
infantry divisions (Barrois, Palombini, Darmagnac) which had formed the
column that marched from Cuenca, were far behind. Palombini’s division,
which had been told off to act as the rearguard, was observing the
accumulation of Spanish troops near Guadalajara, where Elio and
Freire had now been joined by the Empecinado, who had come in from
the direction of Aragon. They had united at the Puente de Aunion and
Sacedon, a few miles south-east of Guadalajara, on the upper Tagus.
There were now 8,000 or 9,000 enemies in this quarter, still quite
close to Madrid, and Joseph and Jourdan had to come to a difficult
decision. If a garrison were left in Madrid, and a strong column sent
to evict Elio from his position, the Army of the Centre would have few
troops left who could follow Soult in the pursuit of Wellington. But
if the whole Army of the Centre marched by the Guadarrama, there was
nothing to prevent Elio from coming down to reoccupy Madrid, and the
political effect of the evacuation of the capital would be detestable,
for it would look as if the whole French army was but a flying column
incapable of holding what it had won[137]. After some hesitation
the King and Jourdan resolved that the military necessity of taking
forward every available man to crush Wellington was all-important. If
Soult alone joined the Army of Portugal in Old Castile the French in
this direction would not outnumber the combined forces of Wellington
and Hill, and might be brought to a stand--perhaps even beaten. The
20,000 men of the Cuenca column must be brought forward at all costs
to secure a numerical superiority for the French arms in the North.
Madrid therefore must be abandoned, and the infantry of the King’s army
marched out of it on the 6th and 8th November, Palombini bringing up
the rear once more. Even the sick and Joseph’s Spanish courtiers had to
be taken on, with a comfortless assurance that they might in the end
be dropped at Valladolid[138]. On the 8th the leading division of the
Army of the Centre reached Villacastin by forced marches, the rear
did not get up till the 10th[139]. Thus it is clear that on November
5th, when Hill executed his flank movement on Fontiveros and Peñaranda,
there was nothing near him save Soult’s advanced cavalry, supported at
an interval by the infantry of the Army of the South, while the Army of
the Centre had not even left Madrid. If Wellington had but known this,
it might have brought about a change in his orders; but--as cannot too
often be repeated--the ‘fog of war’ sometimes lies very thick around a
general at the moment when he has to make his crucial decision, and on
these two days the enemy _might_ have been closed up, instead of being
strung out in detachments over a hundred miles of mountain roads. A
few days after the French left Madrid the Empecinado came down to the
capital and occupied it--Elio had gone off, according to Wellington’s
original orders, to place himself in communication with the Army of
Andalusia (now no longer under Ballasteros) and took post in La Mancha.
Bassecourt reoccupied Cuenca. There was not a French soldier left in
New Castile, and all communication between Soult and King Joseph on one
side and Suchet in Valencia on the other, were completely broken off.

SECTION XXXIV: CHAPTER V

THE BURGOS RETREAT. THE OPERATIONS ROUND SALAMANCA. NOVEMBER 1-NOVEMBER
15, 1812

When we turned aside to narrate the operations round Madrid, and
Hill’s retreat across the Guadarrama Pass, we left Wellington and his
army on November 1st drawn up on the south side of the Douro, with
head-quarters at Rueda. Their right flank was covered by the Adaja,
the cavalry of their left flank was opposite Toro, where the French
were visible in some force, and were known to be repairing the bridge
which had been destroyed on October 30th. It was evident that the
main body of the enemy still lay about Tordesillas, Simancas, and
Valladolid, but its exact strength was not ascertainable. A rumour
had crossed the river that Caffarelli and the Army of the North were
already returning to their own regions beyond Burgos; it was a true
rumour, but Wellington could get no confirmation for it[140]. Till the
facts were ascertained, he was bound to consider it probable that the
whole body of the enemy--nearly 50,000 strong--which had pursued him
since October 22nd was still in his front[141]. With such a force he
considered himself unable to cope, if once it crossed the river whose
line he was defending. ‘They are infinitely superior to us in cavalry,
and from what I saw to-day (October 27) were superior in infantry
also. We must retire therefore, and the Douro is no barrier for us.’
He held on however in the position that he had taken up on October 30
till November 5, partly because he was wishing to cover as long as
possible Hill’s march to join him from Madrid, partly because Souham
made no attempt for some days to debouch in force across the bridges of
Tordesillas or Toro.

Meanwhile the near approach of Hill and the force from Madrid, with
Soult’s army in pursuit, was modifying the position from day to day.
By November 4th Hill, as we have already seen, was at Villacastin with
all his five infantry divisions, and the 7,000 or 8,000 Spaniards of
Morillo and Carlos de España. He was being followed by the French, but
reported that day that he had so far seen no more than four regiments
of cavalry and two battalions of infantry. Was this the advanced
guard of the whole 60,000 men whom Soult and King Joseph had brought
against Madrid, or was it a mere corps of observation? ‘I do not think
it clear,’ wrote Wellington to Hill, at 9 o’clock on the morning of
November 5th, ‘that the enemy is following you in force. I conceive
these four regiments and two battalions to have been sent only to see
what you are doing.’[142] This day Wellington could have united himself
to Hill without any fear of being hindered by either of the French
armies, and could have had the whole of his 65,000 men concentrated
between Medina del Campo and Arevalo within thirty-six hours. The
enemy, though their two armies taken together outnumbered him by more
than 25,000 men, could not possibly unite within a similar time. He
had, therefore, the position which enterprising generals most desire,
that of lying between the two fractions of a hostile force, which
cannot combine easily, and of being able to bring superior numbers
against either one of them. One can speculate without much difficulty
as to what Napoleon would have done in a similar posture of affairs.

But Wellington, after mature consideration, resolved that it would not
be prudent to unite the two halves of his army and to march against
one or other of his enemies. It is fortunate that he has left a record
of the reasons which prevented him from doing so. They are contained
in a dispatch to Lord Bathurst dated November 8th, when he had already
committed himself to a wholly different policy. If he were to march
with his own army, he wrote, to join Hill about Arevalo, with the
object of falling upon the heads of Soult’s columns as they debouched
on Villacastin, Souham could cross the Douro unopposed behind him at
Toro, whose bridge was now repaired, and get behind his left flank.
While he was engaged with Soult and the King, who might conceivably
have 50,000 men at the front[143], and be able to offer a good
resistance, Souham could close in on his rear, and after cutting him
off from Salamanca and his magazines, could attack him, while he was
committed to the contest with the army from Madrid.

On the other hand, if he took the second alternative, and brought
Hill’s column up to Medina del Campo and Tordesillas, Souham would keep
north of the Douro, and could not be assailed: ‘the enemy would not
attempt to pass so long as we remained in our position.’ But meanwhile
Soult and the King, being unopposed by Hill, might cut him off from his
base and magazines, because the line Villacastin-Fontiveros-Salamanca
is shorter than that from Tordesillas to Salamanca. ‘The enemy would
have had the shortest line to the Tormes by Fontiveros, if they had
preferred to march in that direction rather than to follow the march of
Sir Rowland Hill’s troops.’

This last argument, it must be confessed, seems disputable,
for not only are the roads Rueda-Fuentesauco-Salamanca and
Rueda-Pitiegua-Salamanca as a matter of fact no longer than the road
Villacastin-Fontiveros-Peñaranda-Salamanca[144], but they were in all
respects better roads, through a level country, while the route which
Wellington assigns to the enemy (and which Hill actually pursued)
passes through much more difficult and hilly regions, and was but a
cross-country line of communications. It would seem doubtful also
whether there was any probability that the enemy, granting that he
had his whole force concentrated at the front, would dare to take
this route, since it was the one which made a junction with Souham
and the Army of Portugal most difficult to him. Soult and Joseph were
very badly informed as to the exact situation of their friends from
the North, but it was clear that they would have to be looked for
rather in the direction of Tordesillas and Valladolid than in that of
Salamanca. As a matter of fact, even after Wellington’s retreat, Soult
took the trouble to move on Arevalo, instead of marching on Fontiveros
and Peñaranda, for the sole purpose of getting into communication with
Souham, whose co-operation was all-important to him.

But putting this particular objection aside, it seems certain that if
Wellington had concentrated opposite Souham, behind the Douro, Soult
and the King could not have been prevented from getting into touch
with the Army of Portugal by taking the route Villacastin, Segovia,
Olmedo, keeping the Adaja between them and the Allies, and making for
the upper passages of the Douro (Tudela, &c.), which Wellington had
surrendered to Souham on October 30th. This fact is conclusive against
the policy of drawing up Hill to Rueda and making a move against the
northern enemy. Though a march by Soult and Joseph against Salamanca
was improbable, there were perfectly sound reasons for rejecting this
particular combination.

As much cannot be said on purely strategical grounds for Wellington’s
resolution to retreat on Salamanca instead of making a blow at
Soult--his old original plan of September and October. Supposing that
he had left nothing more than a screen along the Douro to ‘contain’
Souham--say the Galicians and a little cavalry--he could have joined
Hill at or near Arevalo on the 5th or 6th, and have calculated on a
couple of days’ start before the Army of Portugal could have followed
him--it had to concentrate from scattered cantonments and to cross on
one or other of two ill-repaired bridges. Meanwhile Soult would have
been caught on the 6th with his 40,000 men strung out on many miles of
mountain road, and with his supports (the Army of the Centre) still
at Madrid--they did not even start for the Guadarrama till that same
day. It is clear that the Duke of Dalmatia would have had to retreat in
haste, under pain of suffering a disaster: his advance guard might very
possibly have been cut up and maltreated, and he would have had to
fall back on the passes, where food was unobtainable, and long sojourn
impossible.

This would have been the Napoleonic method of dealing with the
situation. But it would be absurd to blame Wellington for not adopting
such a plan. Now, as always, he had to play the safer game, simply
because he could not afford to take risks. Napoleon could face with
indifference the loss of 5,000 or 10,000 men from a forced march in
bad weather, ending in an operation that miscarried--such had been
his march against Sir John Moore in December 1808. Wellington could
not. The season at the moment was singularly unfavourable for a sudden
offensive stroke, involving rapid movement. The troops were almost worn
out: Hill’s column had only just terminated a fatiguing retreat, the
troops from Burgos had only been granted five days’ rest since the end
of a similar march. The number of sick (about 17,000) was alarming,
and many battalions were already reduced to 250 or 300 bayonets.
What was worse, straggling had shown itself in the most vexatious
form, not only among the troops of Wellington’s own column, but among
Hill’s divisions, which ought to have done better after their long
sojourn in quiet cantonments round Madrid. A sudden dash to surprise
Soult by forced marches upon Villacastin would have been very costly,
even before the fighting began. And if the Marshal refused to stand,
and simply retired in haste toward the Army of the Centre, it would
be impossible to push him far. Meanwhile Souham would be across the
Douro, and threatening Salamanca, or approaching Wellington’s own rear.
After all there remained the cardinal fact that the enemy had a great
numerical superiority: it was even over-estimated in Wellington’s own
mind, since he thought that Caffarelli and the Army of the North were
still at Valladolid.

Hence came his final decision to retreat by easy marches toward the
strong positions about Salamanca, leaving the offensive to the enemy,
and granting them the opportunity of uniting their two long-separated
armies. Wellington’s own plea in favour of this resolve must be
quoted--‘The two corps of this army, particularly that which has been
in the North, are in want of rest. They have been continually in the
field, and almost continually marching, since the month of January
last; their clothes and equipments are much worn, and a period in
cantonments would be very useful to them. The cavalry likewise are weak
in numbers, and the horses rather low in condition. I should wish to
be able to canton the troops for a short time, and I should prefer the
cantonments on the Tormes to those farther in the rear. I do not know
exactly what the force of the enemy is. The Army of Portugal have about
36,000 men, of which 4,000 is cavalry[145]. The Army of the North have
10,000 men, of which 1,200 is cavalry. It is hard to judge of the exact
extent of Soult’s force. It is reported that the enemy brought from
Valencia to the Tagus from 40,000 to 45,000 men, but I should consider
this to be rather below the number that the Armies of Andalusia and the
Centre could bring up, without any troops from the Armies of Aragon and
Valencia[146]. Soult is particularly strong in good cavalry, and there
are several more regiments in the Army of the Centre. It will remain
to be seen what number of troops can be brought to operate against our
position (on the Tormes): as unless Madrid should be again abandoned to
its fate by the King, he must make arrangements to resist the attacks
which Elio and the guerrilleros (the Empecinado, El Medico, &c.) will
make on that city, even if General Ballasteros should not move forward
in La Mancha. I propose therefore to wait at present on the Tormes,
till I shall ascertain more exactly the extent of the enemy’s force. If
they should move forward, I can either bring the contest to a crisis on
the positions of San Christoval, or fall back to the Agueda, according
to what I shall at the time consider to be best for the cause[147].’

Wellington’s estimate of a total force for the enemy of rather
more than 90,000 men was not far out, for if he wrongly supposed
that Caffarelli might still be at the front with his 10,000 men,
he underrated the total of the Armies of the South and Centre very
considerably. They had not merely the something over 45,000 men of
which he wrote, but nearly 60,000. But he was under the impression that
King Joseph would probably leave a large detachment to defend Madrid;
and if the enemy came forward against the line of the Tormes with
anything less than 70,000 men, he was prepared to defend it. His own
force, counting Hill, but allowing for the losses on the retreats from
Burgos and Madrid, which would amount to about 2,000 at the most, would
be not far below that same figure, including 18,000 Spaniards. But the
strength of the position would compensate for the inferior value of
these auxiliaries in line of battle. Just at this moment Wellington was
not at all contented with the Galicians, whose conduct at Palencia and
Villa Muriel had irritated him. ‘I was sorry to observe,’ he wrote to
Lord Bathurst, ‘that in the affair of the 25th October, although the
Spanish soldiers showed no want of spirit or of disposition to engage
the enemy, they were totally unable to move with the regularity and
order of a disciplined body--by which alone success can be hoped for in
any contest with the French[148].’

There were three possibilities before Wellington when he had made up
his mind to retire to the Tormes. The French might be contented with
having driven him out of New Castile and away from the Douro, and
press him no farther. This would be quite probable, if they had made
up their minds to detach a large force to hold Madrid. Or, secondly,
they might come up against him to Salamanca, with a force no greater
than his own. In this case he was prepared to fight, and hoped to come
well out of the business. Thirdly, there was the chance that they
might bring forward every available man, and try to evict him from his
chosen position: if they were in very great strength he must yield,
and go back to the Agueda and the shelter of Ciudad Rodrigo, much
contrary to his desire. But he was not intending to give way, and to
involve himself in the difficulties of a retreat during the cold and
rainy month of November, until he should be convinced that the French
were too strong for him and that a rearward move was inevitable. In
the Salamanca positions he could force them to show their strength,
and yet have the power to draw off if that strength proved to be
overpowering.

The retreat towards Salamanca commenced on November 5th, when
Wellington both directed Hill to move on Fontiveros and Flores de
Avila instead of on Arevalo, and also began to shift his own troops
south-westward from the position about Rueda. On this day the 5th
Division and Ponsonby’s cavalry brigade marched for Alaejos. The rest
of the Army were warned that their movement would begin next day[149].
It was well to keep Souham beyond the Douro, by continuing to show
great strength in his front, till Hill should have got some way
westward. There was no sign of activity in the enemy’s cantonments,
save that troops seemed to be moving towards Toro along the road on
the north bank parallel with the river[150]. The retreat was therefore
carried out in a leisurely fashion on the 6th-7th-8th: on the 6th
Wellington’s head-quarters were at Torrecilla de la Orden, on the 7th
and 8th at Pitiegua. The divisions, covered by a cavalry rearguard, and
with other cavalry on their flank, thrown out to observe the French
at Toro, marched by several converging roads, some going through
Alaejos, others through Castrejon and Vallesa, others by Fresno and
Cantalpino[151]. There was no hurry, as there was no pursuit, and by
the evening of the 8th all were safely placed in their old positions
of June, north of the Tormes, in a semicircle from Aldea Lengua to San
Cristobal. The weather being still very cold and rainy, as many of the
troops were quartered in the villages as possible, and some as far back
as Salamanca town; but many had to bivouac in the open. After several
nights spent in position, dysentery and rheumatism, which had already
been thinning the ranks, became more common than ever.

Hill’s column, meanwhile, having left the main road at Villacastin on
the 4th and having followed the bad cross-paths between Belayos and
Fontiveros, got into a better route at the latter place, which it
reached after a very fatiguing march on the night of the 5th. D’Urban’s
Portuguese horse, covering the north flank of the retreat, had a
narrow escape of being cut off from the main column, near Villanueva
de Gomez, by Soult’s advanced cavalry, which was pushing up northward
to Arevalo, but D’Urban got across their front in time. Hill’s Spanish
divisions did not follow the same road as the British, but had moved
from Villacastin to Arevalo on the 4th, covered by their own cavalry
(Penne Villemur): on the 5th they marched from Arevalo to Fontiveros
and rejoined Hill’s head-quarters[152]. They had moved along two sides
of a triangle, the British only along the base--but the advantage of a
good road as opposed to a very bad one compensated for the difference
of miles covered. Presumably the order to Hill to take the wretched
by-paths that he followed was dictated by the idea that, if these
routes were neglected, Soult might send a column along them, and
anticipate Hill on the upper Tormes. Nothing of the kind was attempted;
the Marshal’s only preoccupation at this time was that he must at all
costs look for the Army of Portugal, and his explorations were directed
north, toward Arevalo. Hill’s rear was only followed by a vanguard of
light cavalry, which behaved with great caution, and contented itself
with gathering up stragglers, who fell behind the column by their
own fault or from exhaustion. Soult claims to have taken some 600 of
them[153], a figure which English authorities reduce by about half:
some scores of drunkards were undoubtedly captured in the wine vaults
of Villacastin[154].

On the 6th Hill’s column marched from Fontiveros to Peñaranda, the
Light Division and Morillo forming the infantry rearguard, covered at a
distance by Long’s and Victor Alten’s squadrons. On the 7th the stage
covered was from Peñaranda to Coca (not far from Garcia Hernandez)
within easy reach of the Tormes, whose passage it was evident would
be made without any interference by the enemy. On the 8th, the day
on which Wellington entered the San Cristobal position, Hill crossed
the Tormes at Alba, leaving Howard’s brigade of the 2nd Division and
Hamilton’s Portuguese to hold that town, which lies on the east bank
of the river. It was intended to maintain Alba as a sort of _tête de
pont_ to cover the bridge. Though dominated by heights a few hundred
yards away[155], it was extremely suitable for defence against an
enemy unprovided with heavy artillery. It was surrounded by an old
Moorish wall, with gaps that could easily be blocked, and its castle,
a solid donjon, completely commanded and protected the bridge. Slade’s
cavalry brigade remained out as a screen in front of Alba, to watch
for the approach of the enemy. When the rest of the troops had crossed
the Tormes, Wellington directed Hill to send him the 3rd, 4th, and
Light Divisions, España’s Spaniards, and Victor Alten’s and D’Urban’s
cavalry. The force left under his lieutenant was now to consist, as in
the early summer, of nothing more than the old Estremaduran corps--the
2nd Division, Hamilton’s Portuguese, the British cavalry of Slade and
Long, the Portuguese cavalry of Campbell and the Spanish squadrons of
Penne Villemur--about 20,000 men of the three nations. These remained
behind Alba, in the woods above the Tormes. The troops requisitioned
from Hill moved up to Calvarisa de Arriba, Machacon, and other villages
in the angle of the Tormes facing Huerta, from whence they could be
drawn into the San Cristobal position, by the fords of Aldea Lengua
and Santa Marta, if necessary. The whole army, not much under 70,000
strong, was now formed in line from San Cristobal to Alba, waiting to
see whether the advance of the enemy would be by the eastern or the
northern bend of the river.

The French were slow in making their appearance, and still slower in
developing their intentions. For some days there was little more than
cavalry seen in front of Wellington’s position. The reason of their
tardy appearance was that Soult had carried out his design of uniting
with the Army of Portugal before attempting to press the Allies. On
the 8th he was still at Arevalo in person, with the main body of his
infantry: light cavalry alone had followed Hill. Only on the preceding
night had his scouts, pushing out in the direction of Medina del
Campo, succeeded in discovering Souham, who had crossed the bridge of
Tordesillas on the 6th, after Wellington’s departure from Rueda, and
had sent reconnaissances in all directions to look for the Army of the
South, whose approach had come to his knowledge not by any dispatch
received but only by the vague rumours of the countryside. Meanwhile,
he had held back his infantry, being not too sure that Wellington
might not have evacuated Rueda only as a trick, to lure him forward:
it was possible that he had been joined by Hill, and was waiting a few
miles back from the Douro, with the object of falling upon the Army
of Portugal with superior strength, as it should be debouching from
the bridge of Tordesillas. But the roads were found empty in every
direction, and presently Souham’s cavalry came in touch with Soult’s,
and both sides discovered the exact situation.

Soult, Jourdan, and the King agreed that their best policy was to bring
every man forward from all the three armies, and to force Wellington to
battle, if he could be induced to stand his ground. But matters must
not be pressed till the Army of the Centre, which had only started from
Madrid on the 6th, should come up into line; and some of the divisions
of the Army of the South were still far to the rear, having halted
about Villacastin and Arevalo. Accordingly, it was not till the 10th
that Wellington saw any serious force accumulating before the Salamanca
positions, and even then it was the advanced guard alone of the enemy
which had arrived. On the 9th Soult’s head-quarters were at Peñaranda,
those of the King at Flores de Avila, those of Souham at Villaruela.
On the 10th Soult was in person before Alba de Tormes, but had only
his cavalry and two infantry divisions in hand; the rest were still in
the rear. The Army of the Centre had its vanguard at Macotera; that of
the Army of Portugal had reached Babilafuente[156]. The troops were
much tried by the weather, and those of Soult’s army in particular
were feeling their privations. They had been almost continually on the
march since September, having halted but a few days on the borders
of Valencia. The bitter November cold of the plateau of Old Castile
was felt almost unbearable by men who had been for three years lodged
in Andalusia, whose climate is almost sub-tropical and never suffers
the extremes that are usual in Northern Spain[157]. Soult’s Army,
too, had the worst roads during the last days of the advance, and its
commissariat arrangements had gone wrong, while little could be gleaned
from the countryside. The horses began to fail, and stragglers to drop
behind.

On the 10th Soult resolved to see whether Wellington was disposed to
hold Alba de Tormes, or whether the detachment there would blow up the
bridge and retire when attacked. Operations began by the driving in of
the pickets of Long’s Light Dragoons, who had been kept as far forward
as possible till the last moment. They lost a few men in retiring.
Soult then placed three batteries on the hill to the east of the town,
and commenced to shell it at about two o’clock in the afternoon;
shortly afterwards twelve voltigeur companies of the Fifth Division
deployed in long lines, and began to press up towards the place, taking
every possible advantage of cover, while the heavy columns of the
regiments to which they belonged, and of Daricau’s division in support,
were visible in the rear.

Alba was held by Howard’s brigade of the 2nd Division (1/50th, 1/71st,
1/92nd); on the other side of the water, as a reserve, were Hamilton’s
Portuguese (2nd, 4th, 10th, and 14th Line) and the batteries of Arriaga
and Braun, placed in a position from which they could flank any attacks
on the bridge. The town had been prepared for defence, the gaps in its
walls having been filled up with rough palisading, and its non-existent
gates built up with barricades of stone and timber. Each of the three
British regiments held one-third of the circumference of the wall,
with half its companies in firing-line and the others in reserve
under shelter. From two till five, when dusk fell, Soult continued to
batter the town; but ‘notwithstanding the shower of shot and shell
which plunged and danced about the streets in every direction[158]’
the losses of the defenders were quite moderate: they had been given
time on the 9th to extemporize good shelter with barricades and
traverses, and kept under cover. Thrice during the afternoon the lines
of voltigeurs, who had thrown themselves into the ravines and ditches
around the walls, received orders to charge in; but on each occasion
the bickering fire which they had hitherto received burst out into a
blaze as they approached the walls, and their losses were so great that
they had to run back into cover. Hamilton reinforced the garrison at
dusk with two of Da Costa’s Portuguese battalions (of the 2nd and 14th
Line). At nightfall the French had accomplished absolutely nothing.

Next morning at dawn (about 6 o’clock) the cannonade recommenced,
and the French skirmishers once more pushed up towards the walls. Da
Costa’s light companies were used against them, as well as those of
the three British battalions. But the attack was not pressed home,
and after a few hours Soult desisted: the guns were drawn off, the
infantry retired. The Marshal wrote to King Joseph that it was no use
pressing on: he had thrown 1,500 shot into the place without effect: by
persisting ‘_nous y perdrions du monde sans résultat_[159].’ Wellington
had to be attacked, but the way to reach him was certainly--as it
appeared--not to be over the bridge of Alba. From the 11th to the
14th Howard’s and da Costa’s brigades held the place without further
molestation. Their modest casualty list, on the afternoon of the
10th and the morning hours of the 11th, had been 21 men killed and 3
officers and 89 men wounded: 8 killed and 36 wounded were Portuguese.
The 1/92nd with 38 men hit was the battalion that suffered most[160].
The French loss had been a little greater--apparently 2 officers killed
and 6 wounded[161], with some 150 casualties in the rank and file: the
45th Ligne with 5 officers hurt contributed the largest total to the
list.

The cannonade at Alba settled nothing: on its second day the French
commanders were taking counsel together, Soult, the King, Jourdan,
with Souham and Clausel (representing the Army of Portugal) were all
riding up and down the eastern bank of the Tormes, and seeking for the
facts which must determine their next move[162]. Fortunately for the
historian, after the debate, which was long and indecisive, Jourdan and
Soult each wrote a formal letter of advice to the King that evening. On
one point only were they agreed: it would be mad to attack Wellington
on the position of San Cristobal, whose strength was well known to all
the officers of the Army of Portugal, and had been increased during
the last two days by the throwing up of a chain of redoubts armed with
artillery. There remained two plans--Jourdan’s was a proposal to force
the line of the Tormes between Huerta and Alba, by a frontal attack
across the numerous fords which Marmont had used in the campaign of the
previous July; Soult’s was a plan for turning Wellington’s right by
going some distance up-stream south of Alba, and utilizing the fords
of the Tormes between Alba and Salvatierra. In the main the question
turned on the practicability of the fords, and this was varying from
hour to hour. The rain, which had made Hill’s retreat and Soult’s
advance so miserable to the troops, had stopped for the moment, and
the river was falling. Of the numerous passages about Huerta, La
Encina and Villa Gonzalo, Wellington had considered on the 9th that
none were really practicable: on the 10th he wrote to Hill that ‘the
river has certainly fallen since yesterday evening, but I believe that
no infantry soldier can pass yet, even if a cavalry soldier can, and
small picquets guarding the fords and charging resolutely the first
men who pass, will effectually prevent the passage[163].’ Hill was not
so certain that the enemy could not force his way over the river, and
on the 11th Wellington conceded that some of the fords had certainly
become practicable for cavalry, if not for infantry[164]. Considering
the immense superiority of the French in the mounted arm, it was
conceivable that they might attack many fords at once, drive in the
inferior cavalry-screen of the Allies, and then throw bridges across
and attack the British centre. In that case the army would stand to
fight, not behind the river bank but in front of the position of the
Arapiles. It would be necessary to close in the flanks for a battle;
all or most of the troops on the San Cristobal position would cross
the Tormes, just as they had done in July, and at the same time Hill
would draw in from Alba and form the southern wing of the line, in
the woods which had sheltered Marmont’s beaten army on the night of
the great victory. But Alba was not to be abandoned[165]: its castle
was susceptible of a long defence, and effectually blocked the best
passage of the Tormes. Wellington selected a battalion of Galician
infantry (Monterey, under Major José Miranda) which was to be placed
in the castle, and to hold it as long as possible, even when it should
(as was inevitable) be cut off from the allied army by the advance
of the French. The position was explained to the Spanish major, who
(as we shall see) behaved most admirably, blocked the Alba line of
communication for many days, and finally escaped by a sudden sally from
what looked like an inevitable surrender.

The two plans which were submitted to King Joseph on the evening
of November 11 both presupposed the practicability of the fords of
the Tormes. The river must evidently have fallen considerably since
Wellington surveyed it on the 9th, and drew his conclusion that it was
a barrier not to be crossed by any body of troops, but at most passable
by individual horsemen.

Jourdan wrote: ‘When we arrived on the heights above the right bank
of the Almar, Your Majesty was struck with the advantages that the
ground presented. I myself at once conceived the hope of forcing the
English Army to a general action which must involve its destruction.
Wellington’s position is too long--extending from the heights of San
Cristobal on the right bank of the Tormes as far as Alba. The Imperial
Army could pass the river at almost any spot between Huerta and the
point where the Almar flows into the Tormes. The immense plain on the
opposite bank would permit the whole of our cavalry to cross and form
up in front, to protect the passage of our infantry. After that, the
Army would march in mass against the English centre (which appears
to be between Calvarisa de Abaxo and Calvarisa de Arriba), and would
break through the enemy’s line. I do not disguise from myself that the
piercing of the hostile centre has its difficulties, but I should think
that 80,000 French troops could surmount them. Your Majesty must have
remarked that Soult, who at first was all for marching toward the upper
Tormes, was struck with the advantages which this ground offered, and
came round to my opinion. But subsequently he got talking with General
Clausel, about the plan for marching up the river, and returned to
his first view, which he induced Clausel to support. Both of them are
acquainted with the localities over which they wish to move the armies,
which gives weight to their opinion. I do not wish to deny that Soult’s
proposition is the more prudent, and if we want to fight we ought to
do so on ground which Wellington has not chosen, and which is less
advantageous to the enemy than that which he now occupies. But I fear
that we should not obtain from this movement so much advantage as Soult
appears to expect.

‘For he seems to think that Wellington will be forced to retreat on
Ciudad Rodrigo, while it is quite possible that he may choose to
retreat on San Felices, in which case our movement to the upper Tormes
compels him to retire indeed, but enables him to avoid a battle. For my
part I think that our superior numbers make a general action desirable.
I conclude, then, that Your Majesty may adopt Soult’s proposition so
far as the movement up the Tormes goes. If so, I believe that the Army
of Portugal must follow the Army of the South. The enemy has all his
forces united: it would be too dangerous for us to divide ours[166].’

Soult’s letter of the evening of the 12th, to the King, runs as follows:

‘The passage which we reconnoitred a little below Villa Gonzalo unites
all the qualities which one could desire, and I should be in favour
of it, were it not for the fact that after debouching on this point
we should have to form up for the attack under the fire of the enemy,
and should be compelled immediately to assail his whole army, in a
position which he knows and has thought out, and where very probably
he has entrenched himself. I think, therefore, that it would be more
prudent and more advantageous to force him to shift his position, and
to commit himself to an action on ground which we and not he will have
chosen--or else to retreat[167]. I have sent three officers along the
upper Tormes: they have reconnoitred and found practicable three fords
between Exeme and Galisancho[167].’

From the comparison of these two interesting dispatches we see that
Jourdan desired a battle in the style of Wagram, where the attacking
army crosses a river, and breaks through the over-long line of an
enemy deployed along heights at some distance from the water’s edge.
But Soult (to use an anachronism) feared a battle in the style of
Fredericksburg, where the assailant, debouching from narrow fords or
bridges, attacks in heavy masses a well-prepared position, held by
an enemy who has had time to settle down comfortably into it, and to
entrench the most suitable points. Soult was eminently justified in his
criticism of Jourdan’s plan: the most noteworthy remark to be made upon
it is that this was the battle which Wellington wanted. He wished to be
attacked frontally by the fords between Alba and Huerta, and had made
all his arrangements. On the other hand, Jourdan’s criticism of Soult
was equally cogent. If the French armies, keeping in a mass, crossed
the upper Tormes far above Alba, Wellington had the choice between
fighting in a new position (e. g. behind the river Zurgain), and
absconding, before his flank should be threatened seriously. He could,
indeed, move off, practically unmolested, towards Ciudad Rodrigo, and
not merely (as Jourdan suggested) by the more northern line toward San
Felices and Almeida.

Joseph, as was perhaps natural, gave his final decision in favour of
Soult’s plan. It was true that he had a marked superiority in numbers,
and that a defeat of a crushing sort inflicted on Wellington would go
far to end the Peninsular War. No such army on the French side had ever
been in line on a single field before in Spain. Jourdan’s estimate of
80,000 men was a decided understatement, even allowing for the fact
that Soult’s divisions had already many stragglers, and that Souham
had left a ‘minimum’ garrison at Valladolid. Something much more like
the 90,000 men at which Wellington estimated the three united French
armies must have been collected[168]. On the other hand there is a
dreadful risk taken when an army endeavours to cross a group of fords,
supplemented at the best by some hastily constructed bridges, in face
of an enemy known to be wary, active, and determined. What might not
happen if Wellington fell upon the leading divisions, while the rest
were crowding down to their crossing points? Or who could guarantee
that sudden rain in the Sierra de Francia might not cause the Tormes
to rise three feet on the battle day, and separate the troops who had
crossed from those still on the eastern bank? Every one at the French
head-quarters must have remembered Essling, and the narrow escape from
supreme disaster there suffered from the caprice of the Danube.

On the whole, the prospect of the enormous advantage to be got by
inflicting a complete disaster on Wellington did not balance the
possibility of loss that might follow an unsuccessful frontal attack
upon his position. Joseph made his choice in favour of Soult’s plan for
a flank march to the upper Tormes. This manœuvre would take several
days to execute, as the Army of the South had to be moved to its left
from all its cantonments facing Alba, while the Armies of the Centre
and Portugal had to wait till this flank march was finished, in order
to come up and take over the former positions of Soult’s divisions. For
all the French chiefs were agreed that the armies must keep closed up,
and that no gap must be allowed to come into existence between them.
When the Army of the South should begin to cross the Tormes, the Army
of Portugal must be in direct support of it, and must make no separate
attack of its own to the north of Alba, in the localities which Jourdan
had found so tempting. The whole of the 12th and 13th November was
expended in making this shift of troops southward. Soult moved his
army up-stream and placed his head-quarters at Anaya, six miles south
of Alba, above the fords of Galisancho, where the crossing was to take
place. The King moved to Valdecarros, a little to Soult’s right, with
the Army of the Centre. The Army of Portugal, leaving its cavalry and
two infantry divisions[169] as a rearguard about Huerta, moved the
other six to the heights above Alba, where it was hoped that it might
cross, when Soult’s manœuvre should force Hill to abandon that place
and draw back.

The King took two unexpected measures before passing the Tormes. The
first was to supersede Souham as commander of the Army of Portugal--the
excuse used was that he was indisposed, and not up to his task: the
real cause was that he was considered to have shown tardiness and
over-caution in his manœuvres since October 30th.[170] Drouet was
taken from the command of the Army of the Centre, and given the more
important charge of that of Portugal. The other, and more surprising,
order was one which made over--as a temporary arrangement--the charge
of the Army of the Centre to Soult, who thus had nearly 60,000 men
put at his disposition. The object was, apparently, to give him ample
forces for the move now about to be made at his request, and on his
responsibility.

Wellington was evidently somewhat puzzled at the posture of the French
on the 12th-13th November. He could not make out any reduction of
the French forces between Huerta and Alba, where indeed the whole
Army of Portugal still lay, but now with an accumulation of forces
on its left and a weaker right. Yet so long as the enemy was still
in force at Huerta he could not evacuate the San Cristobal position,
in order to send reinforcements to Hill. Reconnaissances by French
cavalry above Alba were reported each day by outlying picquets of
Hamilton’s Portuguese, who were watching the course of the upper
Tormes[171]. But no solid force was sent to back these outlying
posts: Wellington considered it unsafe to extend his already lengthy
front. The disposition of the troops on his right wing was still that
Hill lay in the woods behind Alba, with the 3rd and 4th Divisions at
Calvarisa de Abaxo as a reserve for him, while Long’s and D’Urban’s
cavalry carefully watched the course of the river from Alba to opposite
Huerta. On the north of the Tormes Pack’s and Bradford’s Portuguese
were on the river-bank at Aldea Lengua and Cabrerizos, watching the
two French divisions at Huerta. The 1st, 5th, 6th, 7th Divisions and
the Galicians held the San Cristobal position, with Anson’s, Victor
Alten’s, and Ponsonby’s cavalry far out in their front. Nothing hostile
could be discovered in this direction nearer than the two divisions
of the Army of Portugal at Huerta. Yet Wellington did not like to
weaken his left flank: at any moment the enemy at Huerta might come
forward, and might prove to be the vanguard of an advancing army, not
the rearguard of one about to go off southward. This hypothesis seemed
all the more possible because Maucune, on the morning of the 12th, had
made a reconnaissance in force against Pack’s Portuguese, at Aldea
Lengua: he deployed three brigades, engaged in a lively skirmish, and
only retreated when British reinforcements began to come up. On the
following day Wellington, wishing to see whether Maucune was on the
move, beat up his quarters with strong reconnaissances of cavalry, and
found him still in position[172]. Till Maucune should leave Huerta,
in advance or retreat, the situation was not clear. For these two days,
it seems, Wellington was still thinking it possible that he might be
attacked either on the San Cristobal position or by the fords between
Huerta and Alba. But he was quite aware that the other possibility (a
flank movement of Soult by the upper Tormes) existed, and had sent a
staff officer with a party of the 13th Light Dragoons to cross the
river at Salvatierra and ascertain the southernmost point to which
the French had moved[173]. And he had given Hill elaborate orders as
to what should be done if he were turned and driven in. Whether there
would be a battle to follow, or a retreat on Ciudad Rodrigo, depended
on the exact movements of the enemy, and the force that he brought up
to the crucial point. If the French split themselves into many columns,
with long gaps between them, there was still a chance of administering
a second lesson like that of July 22nd on much the same ground.

[Illustration: The Roads of the SALAMANCA ALMEIDA REGION illustrating
the SALAMANCA Retreat of November 1812]

On the early morning of the 14th the crisis came. At dawn Pierre
Soult’s Light Cavalry crossed the Tormes in force at three fords
between Galisancho and Lucinos, which were perfectly passable, the
water only coming up to the horses’ bellies. The Portuguese picquets
beyond the river gave the alarm, but had to retire at once; some few
were cut off by the chasseurs. Two divisions of dragoons followed
Vinot’s and Avy’s light horse, and when they had scoured the west bank
of the Tormes up and down and found no enemy in force, the infantry
began to pass, not only by the fords but by several trestle bridges
which were constructed in haste. As soon as there were a couple of
divisions across the river, they advanced to a line of heights a couple
of miles ahead, where there was a fair defensive position above the
village of Martin Amor. By the afternoon the whole Army of the South
was across the water, and had taken up a more advanced line towards
Mozarbes, while the Army of the Centre was beginning to follow. It
had been hoped that the Army of Portugal would be able to cross at or
near Alba, for Soult supposed it likely that Hill would evacuate that
town, when he saw 40,000 men arrayed behind his left flank. But though
Hill did withdraw Howard’s and da Costa’s brigades in the afternoon,
he left Miranda’s Spanish battalion in the castle, and blew up the
bridge. As the castle commanded the ruined structure and the ford near
it, and fired furiously on both, there was no chance of passing here
or of repairing the ruined arch. Drouet found that he would have to
march up-stream, and made his crossing at Torrejon, four miles south
of Alba and near the fords that Soult had employed. He had the bulk of
his army over the river by the afternoon, and his two rear divisions
under Maucune, which had arrived late after a forced march from Huerta,
crossed at dusk[174]. The whole 90,000 men of the French Army were over
the Tormes that night, bivouacking on the heights from Torradillos to
Valdenuerque, in front of Martin Amor. The operation had been neatly
carried out, and was quite successful.

Wellington had early knowledge of the French movement from two
sources--his cavalry told him almost at daybreak that the French camps
above Huerta were empty, and soon after came Hill’s news that Soult
had begun to cross the Tormes in force at Galisancho. Quite early in
the morning Wellington rode out in haste, to take command in person
on the threatened front, after having issued orders that the whole of
the troops on the San Cristobal position should follow him. He himself
pushed on with his staff, met Hill in the wood south of the Arapiles,
and told him to watch the roads from Alba with the 4th Division and
Hamilton’s Portuguese. Then, taking the strong 2nd Division--8,000
infantry--and all the cavalry brigades that had been watching the
middle Tormes (Slade’s, Long’s, and D’Urban’s, and Penne Villemur’s
Spaniards) he pushed on to ‘contain’ and possibly to attack Soult[175].
But on arriving in front of Mozarbes a little before noon, he saw that
the enemy had already three or four divisions and 4,000 horse drawn up
in line to cover the passage of the Tormes by the rest of his army. He
had arrived too late to check Soult’s leading columns, and if he sent
for Hill and the other troops which lay to his rear, he would, even
when they arrived, have only 25,000 men available to attack an enemy
who had already as great a force in line, and who was receiving fresh
troops every moment from the fords[176]. Nothing could be done till the
great reserve from the San Cristobal position came up, and they were
not due till late in the day--the last of them indeed did not cross the
bridge of Salamanca till the following morning.

At dusk Wellington ordered Hill to fall back with his infantry from the
woods in front of Alba to the old position of the Arapiles, but kept
his cavalry to the front, to cover his own line of battle as long as
possible. Their screen of vedettes was placed in the line of woods from
Miranda de Azan to Utrera, south of the heights on which Marmont’s army
had taken up its position upon July 22nd. Till this cavalry was driven
in, the French, on the rising ground above Mozarbes, could not make out
the British position.

On the morning of the 15th Wellington had all his troops in hand,
though the last divisions from San Cristobal did not come up till some
hours after daybreak. But the enemy had also brought up every man to
the front, being resolved to sacrifice not even the smallest part of
his numerical superiority. Some critics, among them Jourdan[177],
hold that Wellington, since he was determined not to fight save at
advantage, should have commenced his retreat on Ciudad Rodrigo the
moment that he saw the whole of the three hostile armies massed in his
front, and before they could begin to debouch from their position on
the heights of Mozarbes. And it is probable that if he had directed the
troops from San Cristobal to take the roads towards the Agueda, instead
of bringing them up to the Arapiles position, and if he had used Hill’s
corps and all his cavalry as a rearguard only, he would have reached
Ciudad Rodrigo with a smaller loss of life than was actually to be
spent. The French would have had to start their pursuit from a more
distant and a less favourable point.

It seems, however, that Wellington was prepared to risk a battle, even
against the superior numbers opposed to him, supposing that the enemy
played his game badly. He resolved to take up the excellent position
along the Arapiles heights which he had held on July 22nd, and to stand
to fight against any frontal assault--the advantage of the ground, with
its bold slopes, good cover for reserves, and favourable emplacements
for artillery, were evidently in his eyes so great that he was prepared
to risk a general engagement with 20,000 men less in line than had
his adversaries. As the morning drew on, he had his army formed up
from Calvarisa de Arriba to a point not far from Miranda de Azan.
The line was longer than in the battle of July 22nd, for the troops
were much more numerous. The extreme left wing was formed by the 4th
Division holding the heights and village of Calvarisa de Arriba (which
had been in Foy’s hands on July 22). The 2nd Division and Hamilton’s
Portuguese were holding both the Arapiles--the French as well as the
English--and the ground from thence as far as the village of the same
name. Westward of Hill’s troops lay the 3rd Division and Morillo’s
Spaniards. The second line, composed of troops which had come down from
San Cristobal, consisted of the Light Division (on the left), Pack and
Bradford, the Galicians, and the 5th, 6th, and 7th Divisions. The 1st
Division was placed as a somewhat ‘refused’ right flank protection
for the whole army--much as Pakenham and the 3rd Division had been in
July. It lay about Aldea Tejada on the Zurgain river, several miles
to the right rear of the 3rd Division. The object for which it was
detailed to this separate duty was the same as that for which Pakenham
had been told off at the earlier crisis--to protect the Ciudad Rodrigo
road, and to be ready to outflank and intercept any attempt which the
French might make to turn the British position in this direction. The
bulk of the cavalry was also placed on the right wing, to cover the
end of the infantry line. Only the Portuguese horse of D’Urban and
Campbell, Penne Villemur’s Spaniards, and Long’s brigade were on the
left beyond Calvarisa de Arriba. The rest, five British brigades, lay
out in the direction of Miranda de Azan and in front of Aldea Tejada.
Bock’s brigade on the extreme right long remembered their position of
this morning because they were placed on ‘Pakenham’s Hill’, the spot
where the 3rd Division had fallen upon Thomières in the old battle.
The ground was thickly strewn with the skeletons of the French who had
then fallen, still lying unburied and in a horrible state of complete
preservation: the horses’ hoofs were continually setting the skulls
rolling[178]. Behind Bock were Ponsonby’s, Victor Alten’s, Anson’s,
and Slade’s brigades, a formidable mass, yet far less in strength
than the innumerable cavalry of the Armies of the South and Centre,
which lay opposite them 7,000 strong[179]. Nothing was more uncertain
than the move which the French would next make. If it should turn out
to be one which did not fit in with Wellington’s plans, there would
be no alternative but a retreat on Ciudad Rodrigo. Wherefore all the
divisions were directed to send off their baggage half a march to the
west, and preparations were made to destroy so much of the magazines in
Salamanca city as could not be carried off. The commissariat officers
were already packing up all for which transport could be found, and
sending it forward. By an error of judgement on the part of the
Quartermaster-General, James Willoughby Gordon--not the first of his
blunders in this campaign--all this valuable store was started on the
road Salamanca-Rollan-San Felices, which was the safest by far of all
those open to the Army if a retreat should become necessary, and the
farthest from any probable line of advance that the French could take.
But it had the disadvantage of being far away from the other roads by
which the Allied Army might have to move, and the unfortunate result
followed on the 16th-17th-18th that the food was moving on the northern
road, and the troops--starving for want of it--on three other roads
parallel to it at a distance of twenty miles to the south. Soldiers
must be fed, or they straggle and turn to marauding, and it is of
no profit to have food if it be not in the right place at the right
moment. These simple facts were to cause dire trouble during the next
three days.

Meanwhile, from a comparatively early hour on the 15th it became
evident that Soult was not going to play the game that Wellington
desired. It was a miserable morning of drifting rain, and
reconnaissances had to be pushed far forward to get any clear
information. But the reports soon began to come in, to the effect that
the enemy was keeping closed up, that he was constructing trenches and
_abattis_ on the heights of Mozarbes[180] and that he had pushed out
an immense force of cavalry on his left wing, under cover of which
infantry divisions were clearly to be seen working westward. Evidently
Soult was aiming at the roads toward Ciudad Rodrigo; but he was not
(like Marmont on July 22) letting his army break up into unconnected
sections, and was keeping it in an unbroken line. The entrenchments
on the hills showed that he was prepared to receive in position any
frontal attack that Wellington might be prepared to direct against
him. His motions were slow, not only because of his cautious method of
procedure, but from the badness of the country roads, already made deep
and miry from the rain, over which he was moving his left wing towards
the west. The Army of Portugal was now in line on his right, and its
cavalry was feeling its way forward towards Hill’s flank. But obviously
the danger was not on this side, where the bulk of the French infantry
was standing fast in position: it was the other wing, Soult’s troops
alone, which was in decided motion, and that for a flank march, not for
anything approaching a frontal attack.

All this was most disappointing: Wellington at once made up his mind
that since the enemy was not about to attack his position, and since
it would be madness on his part to take the offensive and assail the
well-placed array of the French, there was no alternative save instant
retreat. It must not be delayed, because, when Soult should have moved
his left wing a little farther on, he would be controlling the road
that runs from Mozarbes to Tamames and Ciudad Rodrigo, parallel to
that via Matilla and San Muñoz to the same destination, over which
Wellington’s natural line of retreat lay.

At about two o’clock in the afternoon on the 15th the British
commander-in-chief made up his mind that he must delay no longer, and
ordered his army to march to its right, in the two lines in which it
was already arranged. The mass of cavalry in front of Aldea Tejada
remained stationary, to cover the movement of the infantry behind its
rear: the smaller body of horse on the left held its ground about the
Arapiles, till all the divisions had passed on, and then followed as
a rearguard. The entire army marched in fighting trim: if attacked
at any moment it had only to front to its left flank, and then would
be in order of battle. The movement had to be slow for the first few
miles, since neither the front nor the rear column was on a good
track until it reached the river Zurgain, and there fell into one of
the three parallel roads which run from Salamanca to Ciudad Rodrigo.
Moreover the rain, which had been a mere drizzle in the morning, turned
to a heavy torrential downpour just as the army was starting. The
country paths became quagmires in a few minutes; and when the usually
insignificant Zurgain came in sight it was already a roaring river,
only to be forded with care. The march was toilsome in the extreme,
and the troops, who had expected and desired a general action, were
sodden and sulky. ‘I never saw the men in such a bad humour,’ observes
one intelligent eye-witness[181]. The march was absolutely unmolested
by the French, and the columns, having crossed the Zurgain, fell into
the three parallel roads which run side by side for many miles from
Salamanca--the southern one to Matilla, the central one to Maza de
San Pedro and San Muñoz, the northern one (the so-called Calzada de
Don Diego) to Aldehuela de la Boveda[182]. Of these the second is
the regular high road from Salamanca to the frontier, the other two
secondary lines of communication. They are extraordinarily convenient
for the retreat of an army which must be kept together, the distance
between the two side-roads and the central one being seldom over five
miles, and often no more than three. The only misfortune was that the
train of transport had gone off, by Colonel Gordon’s error[183], on an
entirely different and divergent route, towards Rollan and San Felices.
The army, after falling into the designated roads, pursued its way till
after dark and bivouacked in the patches of forest on the farther side
of the Valmusa river, about 10 miles from Salamanca. The head-quarters
were at the village of Carnero on the central road[184]. The night was
miserable, no food was distributed, and though wood was abundant it was
hard to light fires, owing to the incessant rain. The troops were tired
and footsore, and straggling had once more begun.

Meanwhile there was quite as much discontent in the French ranks as
in those of Wellington. There had been a general feeling that since
the whole force of the three armies of the South, Centre, and Portugal
had been successfully concentrated on the Mozarbes position, and since
the enemy was known to be much inferior in numbers, something decisive
ought to have happened on the 15th November. That no collision whatever
took place must be attributed partly to the bad weather, but much more
to the caution of Soult, who was this day determined above all things
that he would not suffer the fate of Marmont on this same ground, by
allowing any dislocation to take place between the various sections of
his army.

At nine o’clock in the morning it had been reported that--so far as the
misty rain allowed of certain observation--Wellington was in line of
battle on the Arapiles position. Soult continued to move his cavalry
forward with caution, and to extend his left towards Azan. A little
before noon Joseph and Jourdan joined Soult on the heights above
Mozarbes, the Allies being still stationary. Jourdan suggested that
the Army of Portugal should move forward on the right and attack that
flank of the hostile line which rested on the Arapiles[185]: this was
tried in a tentative way, apparently with the object of holding Hill’s
divisions to their ground, and preventing them from moving off. But it
led to no more than some bickering between the caçadores of the 2nd
Division and the advanced light cavalry and voltigeurs of the French
right, in the woods south of the greater Arapile. The Army of Portugal
made no real attempt to close in. A partial attack on Wellington’s line
would, indeed, have been unwise. The only chance would have been for
Soult to march in upon its right while D’Erlon was pressing in with
decision against its left. But Soult, though requested by King Joseph
to move forward in force, continued his cautious flanking movement
to the westward, and did not carry out a precise and definite order
to push out his cavalry and drive in the British squadrons which lay
in front of Wellington’s right. Then came the torrential rain which
set in about two o’clock, just as Wellington ordered his army to move
off, still preserving its battle order, toward the river Zurgain.
His departure was only partially visible, and no attempt was made to
incommode it. A cavalry officer of the Army of the South writes: ‘The
rain falling in deluge soon rendered the whole field of operations
one vast and deep quagmire. The smallest dips in the ground became
dangerous precipices. The darkness, continually growing blacker, soon
added to the horror of the scene, and made us absolutely unable to act.
The muskets of the infantry were no longer capable of being discharged.
The cavalry was not only unable to manœuvre, but even to advance on the
slippery, sodden, and slimy soil.... We lay down on the field drenched
by the rain, with the mud up to our knees[186].’

Jourdan says that it was pitch dark by four o’clock, the gloom of the
terrible downpour melting early into the darkness of the night. There
was much recrimination between the French leaders. Joseph wrote to
the Minister of War that he tried to bring on decisive action between
eleven o’clock and two, and failed entirely by the fault of Soult. He
accused him of deliberately wasting two hours by vain excuses, and
suggested that the real explanation of his sluggishness was that he
knew the incapacity of his brother Pierre Soult, commanding the light
horse of the left wing, and thought that he would get matters into a
mess if he were charged with the duty of pressing Wellington’s cavalry
in front of him[187]. ‘He knows the extent of his brother’s capacity,
and fears to compromise him. For this reason his light horse is always
kept close in to the rest of the army, and never advances without being
immediately supported by the remainder of his cavalry, while the Duke
of Dalmatia always marches himself in his brother’s company.’

Such a theory is, of course, quite insufficient to explain Soult’s
reluctance to engage on this day. The simple fact was that, after
Albuera, he had a wholesome dread of attacking a British army in
position, if it could be avoided, and preferred to manœuvre it from its
chosen ground, even if he thereby sacrificed the possibility of a great
victory, and secured only an illusory advantage.

On finding that Wellington had got off unmolested, and that Soult had
made no attempt to drive in the cavalry which was covering his retreat,
King Joseph, by Jourdan’s advice, issued orders which proved that both
he and his mentor thought that the game was up. Instead of setting
every man upon the track of the allied columns, Joseph ordered the
whole Army of Portugal, as well as his own Guard, to march upon the
deserted town of Salamanca, while Soult alone was permitted to pursue
the retreating foe. Now since the King was as much convinced as either
of the Marshals that, if Wellington was to be brought to book, every
man of the 90,000 French troops must be ready to attack him, it is
clear that the order to the Army of Portugal to desist from the pursuit
meant that no general action was now to be hoped for. Jourdan could
indulge in the malicious satisfaction of the adviser who, having seen
his counsel rejected, is able to say ‘I told you so!’ to his comrade,
when bad luck has supervened. He had prophesied that, if Soult were
allowed to try his flank move to the upper Tormes, Wellington would
get off without harm[188]. This had now happened; it was judged that
a further pursuit by the whole army was useless, and the 40,000 men
of the Army of Portugal and the Royal Guards were directed to seize
Salamanca and halt there. Clearly if Soult’s 50,000 men went on, and
Wellington suddenly turned to bay, the pursuers could not dare to bring
him to action, since they would be much outnumbered. Evidently, all
that could now be hoped was that Soult might worry the rear of the
retreating enemy, and pick up stragglers and baggage.

After dark the light cavalry of the Army of Portugal and Foy’s infantry
division marched on Salamanca, and reached it that night, after much
toilsome trudging over inundated paths: ‘The plain was under water:
for half the way our infantry were walking through water knee deep:
if the moon had not risen we should never have found our way there.’
The bridge of Salamanca was discovered to be unbroken, and some
half-emptied magazines of flour and rum were captured. A rearguard
of British cavalry--half a troop of the 2nd Hussars of the German
Legion--evacuated the place on the arrival of the French, covering a
mass of stragglers, sutlers, and Spanish refugees, who found their
way to Ledesma and from thence to the Portuguese frontier[189]. Foy,
following them forty-eight hours later, moved to Ledesma, and then
to Zamora, where he took up cantonments. The cavalry of the Army of
Portugal, starting earlier, went to feel for Wellington’s rear on
the road towards Aldehuela de la Boveda, leaving the pursuit on the
other two routes to Soult. The rest of the Army remained cantoned at
Salamanca, which had been well plundered by the first division that
arrived[190]. King Joseph reviewed it, outside the city, on November
17--all in the rain--a melancholy ceremony. The men and officers were
alike weary and discontented. ‘We had an army stronger by a third than
Wellington’s, infinitely superior in cavalry and artillery. Confident
expectation of victory was in every man’s head. The chance had come
of beating the English--perhaps of driving them from the Peninsula.
This fine opportunity, so splendid, so decisive, with so few adverse
chances, has been let slip[191].’ So wrote the disappointed Foy. He
adds, ‘The King does not know how to show to advantage before his
troops; he can speak with effect neither to the officers nor to the
rank and file: he got absolutely wet through, rode home, and went to
bed.’

SECTION XXXIV: CHAPTER VI

FROM THE TORMES TO THE AGUEDA

The last crisis of the campaign of 1812 was now over, and, but for two
unlucky circumstances, the four days of operations which still remained
would have required little notice from the annalist. But these two
mishaps, the continuance of the exceptionally severe and tempestuous
weather which had set in upon the 15th November, and the misdirection
of the supply column, which had got completely separated from the
marching troops, were to have most disastrous results. They cost the
army 3,000 men, much misery, and some humiliation, and Wellington great
vexation of spirit, leading to one of his rare outbursts of violent
rage--his angry words committed to paper, and published abroad by
misadventure, were always remembered with a grudge by his officers and
men.

It must be remembered that there was no really dangerous pursuit. Soult
was not strong enough to press Wellington to a general action, and knew
it. On the 16th he wrote to King Joseph: ‘I think that your Majesty’s
intention is that the enemy should only be followed up to the frontier.
In two days the campaign will probably be at an end in these parts,
for if the enemy’s army goes behind the Agueda, I cannot think that it
would be at present possible to pursue it any further. I await your
orders for the future destination of the Army of the South, which would
be unable to stop two days in position for want of bread and forage. I
propose to establish it on the upper Tormes, below Salvatierra and El
Barco, where I could rest eight or ten days, to allow the men repose
and to collect food[192].’ Clearly there was no offensive spirit in the
Marshal, who only wished to see Wellington upon his way to Rodrigo, and
then contemplated turning back to the upper Tormes.

On the 16th there was little to record in the way of military
operations. The British Army started at dawn from its wet bivouacks
behind the Valmusa river, having received no distribution of food. The
side roads, on which the larger part of the troops were moving, grew
worse and worse as the rain continued. The weakly men began to fall
behind, the shirkers to slip away into the woods, to look for peasants
to plunder and roofs to shelter them from the drenching rain. After the
usual midday halt the bad news went round that the supply column had
gone off on the wrong road--via Ledesma--and that there would again be
no distribution of rations that evening. All that the troops got was
the carrion-like meat of over-driven bullocks hastily slaughtered, and
acorns gathered in the oak woods through which the roads ran. These,
we are assured, though bitter and hard, were better than nothing. It
was only in the evening, after the infantry had encamped behind the
brook that gets its name from the village of Matilla, that the pursuing
French cavalry came up on the two southern roads, and engaged in a
bickering skirmish with the screen of allied horse covering the rear.
The Polish Lancers, 2nd Hussars, and 5th and 27th Chasseurs engaged
in an interchange of partial charges with the 14th Light Dragoons and
K.G.L. Hussars of Victor Alten’s brigade, in front of the camps of the
2nd Division. It was brought to a sudden end by the light company of
the 28th and two guns opening fire on the French from under the cover
of a woodside, on which the enemy went off, with a loss of some 50 men,
mostly wounded prisoners[193]. Alten’s brigade suffered much less.
The centre column saw very little of the pursuing French--Digeon’s
Dragoons--who made no attempt to press in. The cavalry of the Army
of Portugal acted even more feebly on the northernmost of the three
parallel roads. Yet the retreating army lost several hundred ‘missing’
this day, all stragglers or weakly men captured singly on the road,
or in villages at its sides, whither they had betaken themselves for
shelter or marauding. The rearguard cavalry vainly attempted to whip
them all into the tail of the retreating column--some were really
unable to move--others escaped notice in hiding-places, and were taken
by the French when they emerged for a tardy attempt to follow the army.
The camp-followers, and the unfortunate women and children whom the
evil custom of the time allowed to remain with the regiments, suffered
most of all. Soult in his dispatch to King Joseph of the night of the
16th says that he had gathered in 600 prisoners this day, and is very
probably correct.

The 17th November was an even worse day--the rain still continued to
fall, and stomachs were still more empty than on the preceding morning.
The march of the retreating army was still in three columns, but the
2nd Division replaced the 4th as the rearguard of the southern column
(2nd, 3rd, 4th Divisions; Hamilton’s Portuguese; Morillo’s Spaniards),
which marched unmolested from Matilla by Villalba to Anaya on the
Huebra, turning off towards the end of the day from the high road to
Tamames[194], in order not to get too far from the central column,
which was marching on San Muñoz: for Wellington intended to have his
whole army arrayed behind the Huebra, a good fighting position, that
evening. This was a most miserable journey. ‘The effects of hunger and
fatigue were even more visible than on the preceding day. A savage sort
of desperation had taken possession of our minds, and those who lived
on the most friendly terms in happier times now quarrelled with each
other, using the most frightful imprecations, on the slightest offence.
A misanthropic spirit was in possession of every bosom. The streams
which fell from the hills were swelled into rivers, which we had to
wade, and many fell out, including even officers. It was piteous to see
some of the men, who had dragged their limbs after them with determined
spirit, fall down at last among the mud, unable to proceed further,
and sure of being taken prisoners if they escaped death. Towards night
the rain had somewhat abated, but the cold was excessive, and numbers
who had resisted the effect of hunger and fatigue with a hardy spirit
were now obliged to give way, and sank to the ground praying for death
to deliver them from their misery. Some prayed not in vain, for next
morning before daylight, in passing from our halting-ground to the
road, I stumbled over several who had died in the night[195].’

The only food that the southern marching column got this day was
procured from the celebrated raid upon the swine, which so much enraged
Wellington. It is recorded in many 3rd and 4th Division diaries. The
main wealth of the peasantry of this forest region lay in their pigs,
which had been driven into the heart of the woods, to hide them from
the passing armies. From some unknown cause a stampede broke out in one
vast herd of the creatures, which ran across the road cutting through
the middle of the 3rd Division. The starving soldiers opened up a
lively fusillade upon them, and whole battalions broke their ranks and
pursued them with the bayonet, cutting up the creatures before they
were dead, each man going off with a gory limb or rib. Many officers
farther to the rear thought from the firing that the French had cut
into the head of the column. Later in the day the same or another herd
charged the camp of a brigade of the 2nd Division, and gave many a
hungry man an unexpected meal[196].

The southern column had no enemy but hunger and cold on the 17th,
but the experiences of the centre column were more military. This
corps, consisting of the 1st, 6th, 5th, 7th, Light Divisions, moving
in that order, had a tiresome alarm before the rearguard had started
in the morning from behind the Matilla brook. By some blunder--on
the part of Gordon the Quartermaster-General as was said[197]--the
covering cavalry marched off before the Light Division, the rear of
the infantry column, had left its ground. There was nothing but the
picquets from the 95th Rifles between the camp, where the battalions
were just getting under arms, and two divisions of French Dragoons,
cautiously advancing along the road and with their flanking parties out
in the woods. There was barely time to form close column and start off
before the enemy were riding in from all sides. They did not attempt
to close, but while keeping their main body on the road, at a safe
distance, sent out many detached squadrons, along by-paths in the
woods, which from time to time came out unexpectedly not only upon the
flank of the Light Division, acting as rearguard, but much farther up
the line, where the 7th Division, and the 5th in front of them, were
moving along the road to San Muñoz. Hardly any of the allied cavalry
appeared to curb these incursions--the main body appears to have gone
off too much to the south, in the direction of Hill’s column. Hence
came the extraordinary chance that small bodies of the French got into
the interval between the Light Division and the 7th, and even into that
between the 7th Division and the 5th, though the troops themselves were
all closed up and perfectly safe in their dense columns. Great part
of the baggage of the 7th Division was intercepted and plundered by
one party. But the most tiresome incident was that a patrol of three
men from Vinot’s light cavalry captured the one-armed General Edward
Paget, the newly-arrived second-in-command of the Army, as he was
riding--accompanied by his Spanish servant alone--from the rear brigade
of the 5th Division to the front brigade of the 7th, in order to bid
the latter close up rapidly. The French pounced on him out of a corner
of the wood, and as he could not defend himself, and had no escort, he
was hurried off a prisoner, and it was some time before his absence was
noted[198]. A good many isolated soldiers were picked up in the same
fashion by the French cavalry, before the central column emerged from
the woods and found itself above the broad ravine of the Huebra river,
and the town of San Muñoz, in the late afternoon[199].

The whole column had been ordered to encamp on the farther side of the
Huebra, on the plateau in front of Boadilla and Cabrillas, and each
division as it passed the river made its way to the ground allotted
to it. There was wood to be had in abundance, and fires were lit--the
rain had abated in the afternoon--but there was little to cook. Again
there was no distribution save of beef from the droves of half-starved
oxen which accompanied the divisions, and acorns which turned out more
palatable when roasted than when eaten raw.

The 7th Division had just crossed the Huebra, and the Light Division
and a few squadrons of cavalry alone were on the farther bank, when
a new turn was given to the day by the appearance of infantry behind
the French Dragoons, who had been following the retreating centre
column since dawn. Soult had at last succeeded in getting his leading
division, that of Daricau, to the front. Hitherto the bad roads and
the fatigue of the long marches had prevented them from picking up
the cavalry of the advanced guard. The Marshal by no means intended
to commit himself to a general action, but thought that he had the
chance of falling upon the rear of Wellington’s retreating central
column, as it passed the defile of the Huebra. ‘I thought,’ he wrote
that evening to King Joseph, ‘that I might bring off a combat of
infantry, and a cavalry affair, to advantage, but had to give up the
idea, and to limit my efforts to cannonading the masses of the English
Army across the Huebra. The enemy showed us 20,000 men in position,
including 3,000 horse, and more than 20 guns--we could see other masses
debouching across the bridge of Castillejo de Huebra, and the glare of
camp fires announced the presence of more divisions on the plateau of
Cabrillas[200].’

What happened at this rearguard action, whose details Soult slurs
over, was that the Light Division, suddenly attacked by the French
infantry as it was about to cross the Huebra, had to throw out a strong
skirmishing line to its rear, while the main column plunged down the
ravine and over the fords. Three companies of the 43rd and one of the
95th[201] held back Daricau’s voltigeurs till their comrades had waded
across the water, and then had the dangerous task of withdrawing from
the woodside and rushing down to the fords sharply pursued. Soult
showed at first every sign of desiring to cross the Huebra in their
wake, brought up four batteries to his side of the ravine, and began to
play upon the Light and 7th Divisions, which had formed up to defend
the passage. His skirmishers swarmed down to the river bank, under
cover of the fire of the guns, engaged in a lively _tiraillade_ across
the rapid stream, and would certainly have attempted to cross if the
return fire had not been as strong and rapid as their own. The 7th
Division, drawn up in three lines of brigades on the higher slopes, was
much shelled by the French artillery, and would have suffered severely
but for the fact that the rain-sodden ground ‘swallowed the shot and
smothered the shells[202].’ It is an extraordinary fact that after
‘four hours of standing up to the ankles in mud and water, completely
exposed, having nothing to shelter us[203]’ the regiments in the front
brigade were hardly touched at all: the 68th had no loss whatever,
the 51st had one officer killed and eight men wounded, and the total
casualties in the division were under 30. Soult’s report that ‘notre
feu d’artillerie a été très meurtrier pour l’ennemi’ was plausible
enough to any French officer watching the artillery practice, which was
good--but happened to be incorrect.

At dusk the firing ceased, and the French drew off from the river
and encamped in the woods behind them, as did the Light and 7th
Divisions on the opposite bank. The losses on both sides in this
skirmish--sometimes called the combat of San Muñoz, sometimes the
combat of the Huebra--were very moderate. Daricau’s division had 226
casualties (mostly in the 21st Léger and 100th Line), and the French
cavalry a few more. On the British side the Light and 7th Divisions
and the cavalry of the rearguard lost 365 men--but this included 178
prisoners not taken in action but individually as stragglers during the
long retreat through the woods since dawn[204]. In the actual fighting
the loss was only 2 officers and 9 men killed, and 4 officers and 90
men wounded in the British brigades, with 1 officer and 36 men killed
and 2 officers and 43 men wounded in the Portuguese--a total of 187.
Next morning it was expected that the French, having now several more
infantry divisions at the front, would make an attempt to force the
line of the Huebra at dawn. Nothing of the kind happened. ‘Daylight
came at last,’ writes the cavalry officer in charge of the line of
vedettes along the river, ‘the French drums beat, and the troops stood
to arms. I took my place to observe their movements, and expected every
moment to see the columns leaving the camp for the different fords.
But no! after having had a good opportunity to observe their strength,
and to see their cavalry water their horses, I witnessed with no small
satisfaction the whole, after remaining under arms about two hours,
disperse to their respective bivouacks[205].’ The pursuit was over.

Wellington, in short, had offered battle on the Huebra, on the evening
of the 17th, and Soult had refused it, seeing that the bulk of the
allied army was concentrated close behind that river, while his own
infantry divisions were still straggling up from the rear. Nor had
he any intention of following next day--he wrote to King Joseph that
‘I told your Majesty that seeing the retreat of the enemy upon the
Agueda well pronounced, and having no hope of being able to engage him
in a general action before he has terminated his movement, I should
put a limit to my pursuit after passing the Huebra, and should move
off towards the upper Tormes, to enable the army to collect the food
which it lacks.’ The regret expressed at being unable to force on a
battle was of course insincere. All that Soult did was to wait till the
British rearguard had abandoned the line of the Huebra, and then move
his advanced cavalry to Cabrillas, from which some small reconnoitring
parties pushed as far as the Yeltes river[206], and then came back,
reporting that it was impossible to pass that flooded stream without
bridges, and that the British were all across it. On the morning of the
19th the whole French army retired eastward, marching by Tamames and
Linares towards Salvatierra. The truth was that the French were by now
suffering almost as much from fatigue and want of food as the British.
They could not ‘live on the country’, and the diet of acorns, of which
several diarists speak, was as repugnant to the pursuers as to the
pursued.

On the 18th the British Army had an unmolested retreat. This did not
prevent many losses of men who dropped to the rear and died of fatigue
and starvation. The carcasses of dead horses all along the road had
been hacked up for food. One observer saw thirteen corpses lying round
a single fire: another counted so many as fifty men sitting in a clump,
who declared their absolute incapacity to march a foot farther, and
could not be induced to move. But the stragglers who did not perish
hobbled on to the camps in the evening for the most part. The cavalry
swept up large numbers of them into safety. That night the column
of Hill reached Tenebron and Moras Verdes: the centre column lodged
about Santi Espiritus and Alba de Yeltes. The Galicians, forming the
northern column, were about Castillo de Yeltes and Fuenteroble. The
march of the centre column was accompanied by the curious case of
insubordination by three divisional generals (those commanding the
1st, 5th, and 7th Divisions[207]) of which Napier makes such scathing
notice. Their orders gave an itinerary involving a march over fords in
flooded fields; they consulted together, judged the route hopeless, and
turned off towards the bridge of Castillo de Yeltes, which they found
blocked by the Army of Galicia. Wellington, failing to find them on
the prescribed path, set out to seek them, and came upon them waiting
miserably in the mud. He is said to have given them no more rebuke
than a sarcastic ‘You see, gentlemen, I know my own business best’ and
allowed them to cross after the Spaniards, many hours late[208]. The
insubordination was inexcusable--yet perhaps it would not have been
beneath Wellington’s dignity to have prefaced his original order with
an explanatory note such as ‘the main road by Castillo bridge being
reserved for the Spanish divisions.’ But this would not have been in
his normal style. Like Stonewall Jackson fifty years after, he was not
prone to give his reasons to subordinates, even when his orders would
appear to them very inexplicable.

On the 19th a march of a few miles brought all the columns within a
short distance of Ciudad Rodrigo, and the commissariat transport having
reached that place on the preceding day, quite unmolested, arrangements
had already been made to send out food to meet the approaching columns.
‘About dusk we took up our ground on the face of the hill near
Rodrigo--the weather now changing to a severe frost was intensely cold.
We had not long been halted when the well-known summons of “turn out
for biscuit” rang in our ears. The strongest went for it, and received
two days’ rations for every man. It was customary to make an orderly
division, but that night it was dispensed with, each man eagerly seized
what he could get, and endeavoured to allay the dreadful gnawing which
had tormented us during four days of unexampled cold and fatigue. In a
short time two more rations were delivered, and the inordinate eating
that ensued threatened to do more mischief than the former want[209].’

On the 20th the army was distributed in quarters around and behind
Rodrigo--Hill’s column about Martiago, Zamorra, Robledo, Cespedosa, and
other villages on the Upper Agueda; the centre column about Gallegos,
Carpio, Pastores, El Bodon, Campillo, and other cantonments well known
from the long tarrying of the army there in 1811. The Galicians were
left out in the direction of San Felices and the Lower Agueda. Every
one was now under cover, and food was abundant--almost too abundant
at first. Rest, warmth, and regular rations were indeed necessary.
‘Scarcely a man had shoes--not that they had not been properly supplied
with them before the retreat began, but the state of the roads had
been such that as soon as a shoe fell off or stuck in the mud, in
place of picking it up, the man kicked its fellow-companion after it.
Yet the infantry was still efficient and fit to do its duty. But the
cavalry and artillery were in a wretched state: the batteries of the
3rd, 6th, and 7th Divisions, the heavy cavalry, with the 11th and 12th
Light Dragoons were nearly a wreck--the artillery of the 3rd Division
lost 70 horses between Salamanca and Rodrigo.... The cavalry was half
dismounted, the artillery without the proper number of horses to draw
the guns, much less the ammunition cars--many died from cold and famine
under the harness of the artillery and the saddles of the dragoons....
The batteries could with difficulty show three horses in place of eight
to a gun[210].’

Stragglers continued to come in for several days. Julian Sanchez was
sent out with his lancers to search the woods for them, and brought in
800 mounted on the horses of his men. But when the divisional returns
were prepared on November 29th, it was found that besides killed and
wounded in action and sick in hospital, there was a melancholy deficit
of 4921 ‘missing’ since October 23rd. The killed and wounded in action,
as opposed to the missing, were very few considering the dangers which
the Army had gone through: some 160 at Villadrigo, 440 at Villamuriel
and Palencia, 70 at the Puente Larga, 113 at Alba de Tormes, 187 at
the combat of the Huebra--smaller fights such as the skirmishes at
Tordesillas, Aldea Lengua, and Matilla can hardly account for 200 more
between them--the total cannot have exceeded 1,200 casualties in
action. But nearly 5,000 missing was a sad record. How many of them
were dead, how many had deserted, and how many were prisoners in the
hands of the French, it is hard to determine. The losses in missing
before Salamanca had been insignificant--perhaps 500 in each of the
two columns of Wellington and Hill--there had been many drunkards and
malingerers taken both at Torquemada and at Valdemoro. But the main
loss was suffered between the 16th and the 18th of November, in the
woods and mires between Salamanca and the Yeltes river. Soult, in
his daily letters to King Joseph, claims to have taken 600 prisoners
on the 16th, 1,000 to 1,200 on the 17th, and 100 on the 18th. These
figures do not appear incredible, and would allow in addition for well
over a thousand men dead, and some hundreds of deserters. The latter
were certainly numerous in the foreign corps--the Brunswick-Oels and
Chasseurs Britanniques show losses in ‘missing’ out of proportion
to all the other regiments[211]. It is noteworthy, when comparing
the lists of the ‘missing’ in the various divisions, to see that the
Portuguese units suffered far more severely in proportion to their
numbers than the British. They showed the total of 2,469 as against
2,477, but this was out of 22,000 men only, while the similar British
figure was out of a total of 32,000 or thereabouts--i. e. their loss
was about 10·8 per cent. as against about 8 per cent. Several observers
of the retreat note that the cold and perpetual rain told much more
heavily upon the stamina of the Portuguese, whose native climate is far
more mild than that of the plateaux of Leon. They simply sank by the
wayside, and died, or suffered themselves to be taken prisoners without
attempting to get away. The unit in the whole army which suffered most
heavily in the way of ‘missing’ was Bradford’s Portuguese brigade,
which lost 514 men out of 1,645. In the Light and 3rd Divisions the
Portuguese battalions were little more than a third of the British in
numbers, but had more missing than their comrades in the proportion
of 163 to 92 in one case and 230 to 184 in the other. The worst
divisional records were those of the 5th and 7th Divisions, which
lost 800 and 600 men respectively: the best those of the 1st, 6th,
and Light Divisions with only 283, 170, and 255. Individual British
regiments differed much: the most unsatisfactory figures were those of
a battalion which had only landed at Lisbon that summer, and had not
been present at Salamanca. The 1/82nd distinguished itself by leaving
more drunken stragglers at Valdemoro than any other corps, and had
dropped a terrible proportion of its men between Salamanca and Rodrigo.
Wellington put the colonel under arrest, and proposed to try him before
a court martial for ‘gross neglect of duty,’ but in the end did not
press matters to a formal prosecution[212].

For the first few days after the arrival of the army at Ciudad Rodrigo
Wellington was not quite certain that the enemy, after resting on
the Tormes for a few days, might not resume his advance[213]. This
was unlikely, owing to the weather and the obvious difficulty of
finding food for 90,000 men in a devastated countryside. Still, it was
conceivable, and a further advance on Soult’s part would have been very
tiresome, when the allied troops so much required rest, and when some
dangerous cracks seemed to threaten the stability of parts of the newly
repaired sections of the walls of Ciudad Rodrigo[214]. For six days the
army was held together, till on November 26th arrived certain news that
Soult was on his way to the province of Avila, and that the greater
part of the Army of Portugal was leaving Salamanca for the rear, and
distributing itself in its old cantonments in the direction of Toro and
Valladolid[215], while King Joseph with the Army of the Centre was on
his march for Madrid. Since the French were certainly dispersing, there
was no longer any necessity for keeping the allied army concentrated.
On the 27th Wellington ordered a general dislocation of the divisions
into winter quarters. Only the Light Division and Victor Alten’s
cavalry remained about Ciudad Rodrigo and Almeida. Of the rest of the
army, Hill, with his old corps--the 2nd Division, Hamilton’s Portuguese
and Erskine’s cavalry--marched for Coria and Zarza, being directed
to canton themselves in the valley of the Alagon with an advanced
post at Bejar. Campbell’s Portuguese cavalry went to their old haunts
about Elvas in the Alemtejo, and Penne Villemur and Morillo, with the
Estremaduran Divisions, returned to their native regions. Castaños and
the Galician army retired also to their own province, marching through
the Tras-os-Montes by way of Braganza. D’Urban’s Portuguese horse were
cantoned for the winter north of the Douro, but the rest of the allied
cavalry (Bock, Ponsonby, and Anson) were sent far to the rear, to look
for comfortable quarters in the Mondego valley and the villages south
of Oporto. The remaining British infantry divisions (the 1st, 3rd,
4th, 5th, 6th, and 7th) were distributed about the province of Beira,
in various quarters from Lamego to Guarda, at distances of thirty or
fifty miles from the frontier[216]. The general disposition of the
cantonments of the army was not much different from what it had been in
the first days of 1812, before the long eleven months’ campaign began.
Only Hill was no longer on the Guadiana, but north of the Tagus, since
there was no enemy left in Andalusia to require his attention.

While the dispersion was in progress Wellington issued (November 28)
the _Memorandum to Officers commanding Divisions and Brigades_ which
caused so many heart-burnings among his subordinates. It was intended
to go no further than those officers; but some of them dispatched
copies to the colonels of the regiments under their charge, and so it
became public property. Written in a moment of intense irritation,
it contained much rebuke that was merited, but was unjust from the
sweeping and general character of the blame that it distributed to
the whole army, and most certainly failed to take account of the
exceptional conditions of the 15th to the 19th of November. Wellington
wrote:

‘I am concerned to have to observe that the army under my command
has fallen off in the respect of discipline in the late campaign, to
a greater degree than any army with which I have ever served, or of
which I have ever read. Yet this army has met with no disaster: it has
suffered no privations which but trifling attention on the part of
the officers could not have prevented, and for which there existed no
reason in the nature of the service. Nor has it suffered any hardships,
excepting those resulting from the necessity of being exposed to the
inclemencies of the weather at a time when they were most severe.
It must be obvious to every officer that from the moment the troops
commenced their retreat from the neighbourhood of Burgos on the one
hand, and of Madrid on the other, the officers lost all control over
their men. Irregularities and outrages were committed with impunity.
Yet the necessity for retreat existing, none was ever made on which
the troops had such short marches; none on which they made such long
and repeated halts; and none on which the retreating army was so
little pressed on their rear by the enemy.... I have no hesitation in
attributing these evils to the habitual inattention of the officers of
the regiments to their duty, as prescribed by the standing regulations
of the service, and the orders of this army.... The commanding officers
of regiments must enforce the order of the army regarding the constant
inspection and superintendence of the officers over the conduct
of the men in their companies, and they must endeavour to inspire
the non-commissioned officers with a sense of their situation and
authority. By these means the frequent and discreditable resort to the
authority of the Provost, and to punishments by courts martial, will be
prevented, and the soldiers will not dare to commit the offences and
outrages of which there are so many complaints, when they well know
that their officers and non-commissioned officers have their eyes on
them.

‘In regard to the food of the soldier, I have frequently observed and
lamented in the late campaign the facility and celerity with which
the French cooked in comparison with our army. The cause of this
disadvantage is the same with that of every other--want of attention of
the officers to the orders of the army and the conduct of their men....
Generals and field officers must get the captains and subalterns of
their regiments to understand and perform the duties required of them,
as the only mode by which the discipline and efficiency of the army can
be restored and maintained during the next campaign.’

There was undoubtedly much to justify the strong language which
Wellington used as to the grievous relaxation of discipline in
some of the regiments. Unfortunately he made no exceptions to his
general statement, and wrote as if the whole army had been guilty
of straggling, drunkenness, and marauding in the same degree. There
was not the slightest hint that there were many corps which had
gone through the retreat with small loss of men and none of credit.
But Wellington had seen with his own eyes the disgraceful scenes at
Torquemada, had been roused from his uneasy slumbers by the sound of
the pig-shooting on the night of November 17, and he had witnessed
the devastation of San Muñoz and other villages by men who were
tearing whole houses to pieces to get firewood. He had ordered the
Provost-Marshal to hang on the spot two soldiers caught red-handed in
plunder, and sent three officers whose men had pulled down cottages,
when collecting fuel, to be court-martialled[217]. The figures of the
‘missing’ in some regiments had rightly provoked his indignation.
But he might at the same time have noticed that there were not only
battalions but whole brigades where their number was insignificant.
In one division of 5,000 men there were but 170--in the five British
battalions of the Light Division no more than 96. In both these cases
the deficiency represented only weakly men who had fallen by the way
from fatigue and disease, and cannot afford any margin for stragglers
and marauders.

The general feeling in the army was that nearly all the loss and
mischief had happened in the inclement days of November 15-18, previous
disorders having been comparatively insignificant; and as regards
those days they questioned the justice of Wellington’s indictment of
the troops. To say that ‘the army had suffered no privations which
but trifling attention on the part of the officers could not have
prevented’ was simply not true. What ‘trifling attention’ on the part
of the regimental officers could have made up for the fact that some
divisions had received absolutely no distribution of food of any sort
for four continuous days, and others in the same four days nothing
but two rations of beef, and no biscuit or other food at all?[218]
It was useless to tell them that they had suffered no privations, or
that they could by care have avoided them. As an intelligent general
officer wrote on November 20: ‘During the whole of this retreat from
the 15th inclusive, not only has the weather been dreadfully severe,
but the commissariat arrangements having failed, the troops have been
mostly without any issue of rations, and have suffered the extremity
of privation, having lived upon acorns and hogs killed occasionally
in the woods. The natural result of this has been great disorder and
confusion, and the roads in the rear of the columns of march are
covered with exhausted stragglers left to the enemy. In fact, by some
inconceivable blunder, which the Quartermaster-General’s department
attribute to that of the Commissary-General, and which the latter throw
back on the former, the supplies of the army, which were adequate for
much larger numbers, on the morning that we broke up from the Arapiles
were sent down the Tormes, by Ledesma toward Almeida, while the army
marched on Ciudad Rodrigo--_hinc illae lachrymae_[219].’

There is no doubt that sheer lack of food during inclement weather,
and in a desolate and thinly peopled forest-country did most of the
mischief. As an indignant subaltern writes: ‘The officers asked each
other, and asked themselves, how or in what manner they were to blame
for the privations of the retreat. The answer uniformly was--in no way
whatever. Their business was to keep the men together, and if possible
to keep up with their men themselves--and this was the most difficult
duty--many of these officers were young lads badly clothed, with
scarcely a shoe or a boot left--some attacked with dysentery, others
with ague, more with a burning fever raging through their system; they
had scarce strength to hobble along in company with their more hardy
comrades, the rank and file[220].’

Wellington’s memorandum stated that the marches were short in miles,
and this was generally true, though on October 23 the infantry had to
do 29 miles. But mileage is not the only thing to be considered in
calculating the day’s work--the time spent on the miry roads, where
every step was ankle deep in slime that tore the shoes from the feet,
was inordinate: several of the marches were from 4 o’clock, before
dawn, to the same hour in the afternoon. This on an empty stomach and
with the regulation 60 lb. of weight on the soldier’s back was no
mean task. And sometimes the journey ended, as for the Light and 7th
Divisions on November 17th, in the troops being deployed in battle
order in the drifting rain, and kept for some hours more under arms, to
resist a possible advance of the French. The strain was too much for
many willing men whose constitution was not over robust. It was not
only shirkers who fell out and collapsed.

As to the matter of the cooking, one capable subaltern remarked in his
diary, ‘if _we_ were allowed to tear down doors, &c., in every village,
as the enemy do, without having to go miles for wood, we could cook
in as short a time as they[221].’ And another remarks with justice
that when the companies had to prepare their food in the vast Flanders
cauldrons, carried on mules which dragged at the tail of the regimental
baggage train, they could never be sure of getting them up to their
bivouacs in good time. There was an immense improvement in 1813, when
light tin camp-kettles carried alternately by the men of each squad,
were introduced. These were always at hand, and could be got to boil
‘without needing a whole tree or half a church door to warm them.’
Wellington might have spared this criticism on his soldiers’ cooking
when he had already, as his dispatches show, asked for the small
kettles to be made, precisely because the cauldrons were too heavy,
and seldom got up in good time[222]. He did well to lament the slow
cooking, but knowing its cause, and having been in command of the army
since April 1809, might he not have indented for portable kettles
before May 1812?

The real truth with regard to much of the objurgatory language of
the ‘Memorandum’ is that, loth though one may be to confess it, the
staff officer--commander-in-chief or whatever his rank--who has slept
under cover and had adequate food during such awful days as those of
November 15 to November 19, 1812, may easily underrate the privations
of the man in the ranks, who has faced the weather unsheltered and
with no rations at all. This observation does not in the least affect
the points on which Wellington did well to be angry--the disgraceful
scenes of drunkenness at Torquemada and Valdemoro, the plundering of
villages at more points than one, and the excessive straggling from
some ill-commanded battalions. And, as we have had occasion to point
out before, there was a residuum of bad soldiers in well-nigh every
regiment--Colborne estimates it at 50 or 100 men on the average--and
exceptional circumstances like the storm of Badajoz or the hardships of
the Salamanca retreat brought this ruffianly element to the surface,
and led to deplorable incidents. Presumably many corps got rid of the
majority of their _mauvais sujets_ by straggling and desertion on those
wretched November days upon the Valmusa, the Huebra, and the Yeltes.

Here we may leave the main armies at the end of the campaign. It
remains only to speak of Suchet and his opponents on the coast of
the Mediterranean. After the departure of Soult and King Joseph from
Valencia in the middle of October, it might have been supposed that
the Duke of Albufera, now left to his own resources, would have been
in some danger. For not only had he in front of him the Anglo-Sicilian
troops who had landed under Maitland at Alicante, and his old
adversaries of Joseph O’Donnell’s Army, but--since there were now
no French left in Andalusia--all the Spanish detachments which had
formerly watched the eastern flank of that kingdom were available
against him. After Soult had occupied Madrid, Elio, Freire, and
Bassecourt all came down to Albacete and Chinchilla, to link themselves
with the Alicante troops. Leaving out the Empecinado and Duran, who did
not move southward from their mountains on the borders of Aragon and
Castile, there were still 25,000 Spanish troops of the ‘second’ and
‘third’ armies--the old Valencian and Murcian corps, disposable for
use against Suchet in November[223]. And what was still more ominous
for the French on the East Coast, a second reinforcement was getting
together at Palermo to strengthen the Anglo-Sicilian corps at Alicante.
General Campbell with about 4,000 men sailed on November 14th; this
force consisted of two British battalions[224], a foreign battalion of
light companies, 1,500 Italians, and some miscellaneous details. Though
the Italians (as their conduct proved next spring[225]) were eminently
untrustworthy material, the rest were an appreciable addition to the
strength of the expeditionary force, which was now swelled to an army
corps rather than a large division. They only came to hand on December
2, however, and the best opportunity for attacking Suchet had passed
before their landing, since obviously he was most vulnerable when
all the rest of the French armies had passed on to Salamanca, after
November 6th, and before King Joseph had come back to Madrid and Soult
to Toledo in the early days of December. The four weeks between those
dates, however, were wasted by the British and Spanish generals on the
East Coast.

Suchet had recognized his danger, and had taken up a defensive position
in front of the Xucar, with Harispe’s division at Almanza, Fuente la
Higuera, and Moxente, Habert’s at Albayda across the high-road from
Valencia to Alicante, and Musnier’s in reserve, at Alcira and Xativa.
Here he waited on events, having lost touch completely with Soult and
the King, from whom he received no dispatch for eighty days after their
departure from Albacete and Cuenca in October. It was only by way of
Saragossa that he learnt, some weeks later, that they had recaptured
Madrid and then marched for the Tormes[226]. He had only 15,000 men in
line beyond the Xucar, and knew that in front of him there were 7,000
Anglo-Sicilians, 8,000 of Roche and Whittingham’s men, and more than
that number of the Murcians, all grouped round Alicante, while Elio,
Freire, and Bassecourt, with 8,000 or 9,000 men, were coming in from
the direction of Madrid, and Villacampa with 3,000 more might appear
from Southern Aragon. This was a formidable combination, though the
Spanish troops were badly organized, and had a long record of defeat
behind them. The disaster of Castalla had shown a few months before
the incapacity of the leaders and the unsteadiness of the men of the
Murcian army. Yet the number of troops available was large, and the
5,000 English and German Legionary infantry of the Alicante Army
provided a nucleus of trustworthy material, such as in firm hands might
have accomplished much.

Unity and continuity of command, however, was completely wanting. On
September 25th Maitland had fallen sick, and the charge of the troops
at Alicante passed to his second-in-command, General Mackenzie. This
officer showed signs of wishing to adopt a timid offensive attitude
against Suchet. He pushed his own and Whittingham’s divisions out as
far as Alcoy, opposite Habert’s position at Albayda, and contrived
some petty naval demonstration against the Valencian coast. Of these
the most important was an expedition which tried on October 5th to
capture the town of Denia, the southernmost place in the possession
of the French. It was composed of a wing of the 1/81st, and a company
each of De Roll’s regiment and of marines--about 600 men--under General
Donkin. These troops, carried on the _Fame_ and _Cephalus_, landed
near Denia, and drove the small French garrison into the castle. This
was found to be a more formidable work than had been expected, and to
require battering by heavy guns. Some cannons were, with difficulty,
landed from the ships, and a siege would have been commenced but for
the news that Habert was sending up a relieving force. Whereupon the
little expedition re-embarked, men and guns being reshipped with much
difficulty under the fire of the French on a rocky beach[227]. The loss
was trifling, but the whole plan was obviously feeble and useless. To
have turned Suchet’s sea-ward flank with 5,000 men, while threatening
his front with the rest of the British and Spanish troops available
might have been a conceivable operation. But what could 600 men,
entirely isolated, hope to accomplish?

It must have been long after this fruitless demonstration that
Mackenzie received a formal order from Wellington dated from before
Burgos on October 13th[228], bidding him attack Valencia, either by
land or by sea, if Soult and King Joseph should have marched their
armies against Madrid. He was instructed not to accept a general action
with Suchet, unless he was very superior in numbers, and to beware
of fighting in ground favourable to cavalry. His own mounted force
consisted only of 230 sabres[229], and 500 belonging to Whittingham and
to the Murcian army were of doubtful efficiency. But it was thought
that Suchet was very weak, and a little while later Wellington received
false information that the Marshal had lent a considerable part of his
army to King Joseph for the march on Madrid[230]. He therefore hoped
that a bold advance against Valencia might shake the hold of the French
on the Mediterranean coast.

The letter directed to Mackenzie was received not by him but by General
William Clinton (the brother of H. Clinton of the 6th Division), who
had arrived at Alicante and taken command--superseding Mackenzie--on
October 25th. Lord William Bentinck had sent him out from Palermo on
hearing of Maitland’s illness. The change of generals had no good
results--Clinton fell at once into a fierce quarrel with Cruz the
Spanish governor of Alicante. He opined that he ought not to start to
attack Suchet without receiving over control of the Alicante forts,
and placing them in the charge of a British garrison. The Governor
refused to give up the keys, and much friction ensued, causing an
angry interchange of letters which wasted many days. Wellington, when
he heard of it, declared that Clinton seemed to have been wholly
unreasonable in his demand[231]. Meanwhile Clinton drew in Mackenzie’s
troops from the front, instead of making an advance toward Valencia.
Suchet, hearing that there were no red-coated battalions left opposite
Habert, resolved to try the effect of a reconnaissance in force, and
moved forward against Roche and Whittingham, who still lay at Alcoy.
The English and Spanish divisions at once drew back to Xixona, twenty
miles nearer to Alicante. Impressed by this activity on the part of
the enemy, Clinton wrote to Wellington that Suchet was too strong to
be meddled with, and that he dared attempt no offensive move toward
Valencia[232]. Yet counting Roche, Whittingham, and the Murcian troops
at Alicante, he must have outnumbered the French by nearly two to one.
And on November 22 the Governor of Alicante actually surrendered the
keys of the citadel--the point on which Clinton had insisted as the
necessary preliminary for active operations.

Nothing had yet been done on the East Coast when on December 2 General
Campbell landed at Alicante with the 4,000 Sicilian troops already
mentioned a few pages back. He was senior to Clinton, and relieved him
of the command. Thus in the 70 days since September 23rd there had
been four general officers in successive charge of the force which
was intended to keep Suchet in check. It would have been difficult to
contrive a more inconvenient arrangement--both Clinton and Campbell
were new to the army and the district, and each took many days to make
out his situation, and arrive at a conclusion as to what could and what
could not be done. Campbell, immediately on his arrival, was solicited
by Elio to attack Suchet, in combination with his own army, which
should strike in from Albacete on the Marshal’s flank. He offered to
bring up 10,000 men of his own (Freire, Bassecourt, and Villacampa)
and said--apparently without authorization--that Del Parque would
assist, at the head of the Army of Andalusia. But Campbell refused to
stir, and possibly was right, when such cases as Barrosa and Talavera
are taken into consideration. Yet Wellington, his commander-in-chief,
had ordered the offensive to be taken in no hesitating terms, and the
force available was undoubtedly too large to be wasted. As Wellington
himself remarked, most British generals of that day, though bold
enough in action, and capable of acting as efficient lieutenants,
seemed stricken with a mental paralysis when placed in an independent
position, where the responsibility of taking the initiative was thrown
upon them. It was only exceptional men like Craufurd and Graham who
welcomed it. The general effect of the Anglo-Sicilian expedition was
disappointing in the extreme. Suchet had thought, and with reason, that
it would be ruinous to him, both in July and again in November. It
turned out to be a negligible quantity in the game, except so far as it
prevented the French Army of Valencia from moving any of its 15,000 men
to co-operate with Soult or King Joseph. Wellington had hoped for much
greater profit from the diversion.

After all, a much larger body of French troops than Suchet’s field
force in front of Valencia was being at this time kept completely
employed, by enemies who owned a far less numerous following than
Campbell or Elio. The little Army of Catalonia, not 8,000 strong, was
finding employment all through the autumn and winter for Decaen’s
20,000 men; and Duran and Villacampa in Aragon--aided occasionally
by Mina from the side of Navarre, and Sarsfield from the side of
Catalonia--were keeping the strong force under Reille, Severoli, and
Caffarelli in constant movement, and occasionally inflicting severe
loss on its flying columns. Their co-operation in the general cause
was useful and effective--that of the Alicante Army was not. To sum up
all the operations on the eastern side of Spain we may say that there
had been practically no change in the situation of the adversaries
since February. The amount of territory occupied by the French was
unchanged--they had made no progress in the pacification of Aragon
or Catalonia; but on the other hand Suchet’s hold on Valencia still
remained entirely unshaken.

SECTION XXXIV: CHAPTER VII

CRITICAL SUMMARY OF THE CAMPAIGNS OF 1812

Though Wellington’s divisions took up in December 1812 almost the
same cantonments that they had occupied in December 1811, ere they
marched out at midwinter to the leaguer of Ciudad Rodrigo, the aspect
of affairs in the Peninsula had been completely transformed during
the intervening twelve months. It was not merely that Andalusia,
Estremadura, and Asturias had been freed from the presence of the
French armies, who were never to return. Nor was it merely that--to use
Wellington’s own words[233]--‘we have sent to England little less than
20,000 prisoners,[234] have taken and destroyed, or have now ourselves
the use of, the enemy’s arsenals in Ciudad Rodrigo, Badajoz, Salamanca,
Valladolid, Madrid, Astorga, Seville, and the lines before Cadiz, and
upon the whole have taken or destroyed, or now possess, little short of
3,000 pieces of their cannon[235].’ Nor was it the all-important thing
that the Armies of Portugal, the Centre, and the South, Wellington’s
immediate enemies, were in November weaker by 30,000 men than they
had been in March, and this though they had received 10,000 men in
drafts since the summer ended. The fact that really counted was that
the whole French system in Spain had been shaken to its foundations.
It was useless to pretend any longer that King Joseph was a legitimate
sovereign, and the Cadiz government a mere knot of rebels driven
into their last and remotest place of refuge. The dream of complete
conquest, which had lingered on down to the moment of Suchet’s capture
of Valencia, was gone for ever. The prestige of the French arms was
shattered: the confidence of the officers in the marshals, that of the
men in their officers, had disappeared. As Foy, the most intelligent
of the French observers, sums up the matter, what hope was there for
the future when the whole available field force of the French armies
of Spain, superior in number by a third to Wellington’s army, had been
collected on a single field, and had allowed the enemy to march away
practically unmolested? ‘Wellington goes off unbeaten, with the glory
of his laurels of the Arapiles untarnished, after having restored to
the Spaniards all the lands south of the Tagus, after having forced us
to destroy our own magazines and fortifications, and deprived us of all
the resources that resulted from our former conquests and ought to have
secured their retention[236].’ There was a profound dissatisfaction
throughout the French Army; and as the winter drew on, and the ill
news from Russia began slowly to drift in, it became evident that the
old remedy for all ills so often suggested in 1810-11--the personal
appearance of the Emperor in Spain with large reinforcements--was never
likely to come to pass. Indeed, troops would probably be withdrawn
from Spain rather than sent thither, and the extra subsidies in money,
for which King Joseph was always clamouring, were never likely to be
forthcoming from the Imperial Exchequer.

As to the past campaign, belated recriminations continued to fly about:
Clarke--the Minister of War at Paris--was the central point round which
they revolved, since it was through him that the reports went to the
Emperor from Spain, and to him that the rare answers came back from
some Russian bivouac, when the master had a moment’s leisure from his
own troubles. Generally he wrote in a very discouraging strain: ‘vous
sentez qu’éloigné comme je suis, je ne puis rien faire pour les armées
d’Espagne[237].’ His occasional comments were scathing--Marmont’s
reports were all lies, he was to be interrogated in a formal series of
questions, as to why he had dared to fight at Salamanca. The quarrels
of Joseph and Soult were unworthy of serious attention: ‘il ne pouvait
pas s’occuper de semblables pauvretés dans un moment où il était à la
tête de 500,000 hommes, et faisait des choses immenses.’ Considering
the way in which Soult had wrecked all the plans of the King and Joseph
in June-July, by deliberate disobedience to a long series of orders
sent by his hierarchic superior, it was poor comfort to Joseph to be
told that he must continue to put up with him. ‘Le Maréchal Soult
est la seule tête militaire qu’il y eût en Espagne: on ne pouvait
l’en retirer sans compromettre l’armée[238].’ ‘Why had the King ever
returned to Spain in 1811?’ said the Emperor--though a reference to
the correspondence between them in that year tends to show that Joseph
had offered to abdicate, or take any other step prescribed to him,
and that it was his brother who preferred to keep him at Madrid as a
figure-head. Napoleon, it is clear, was vexed at being worried by the
affairs of the Peninsula at a moment when he required all his time
for the contemplation of his own problems, and discharged his wrath,
deserved or undeserved, in all directions. It may be doubted whether he
ever thought of himself as perhaps the greatest offender of all; but
it was--as we have already shown at great length[239]--precisely his
own elaborate orders which led first to the fall of Ciudad Rodrigo and
then to that of Badajoz. But for these initial strokes Wellington’s
task in the later spring would have been far more difficult. And it
is certainly the fact that if Marmont had been allowed to follow his
own inspiration in February and March, Badajoz at least might have
been saved. As to what followed in June and July, Soult must take the
main share of the blame. Wellington’s game would have been far harder
if the Army of the South had obeyed the King’s orders, and come up
to the Tagus in June. Soult would have had to evacuate Andalusia,
it is true; but he none the less had to abandon it in the end, and
it would have made all the difference in the world to the fate of
the campaign if he had come northward while Marmont’s Army was still
intact, and not after it had received the crushing blow of July 22nd
at Salamanca. No rational student of the events of that summer can fail
to recognize that Jourdan and the King had found the right conclusion,
and issued the right orders, and that Soult’s determination to hang on
to Andalusia till the last moment showed as much mental perversity as
military insubordination. His counter-plan for inducing the King to
come to Seville, abandoning Madrid before Marmont had even tried the
fortune of battle, was simply the wild project of a viceroy loth to
abandon his realm, and convinced that every one else ought to give way
for his own personal profit[240]. To surrender Central and Northern
Spain to Wellington, and to allow all communications between Andalusia
and France to be cut would have been insane. The King would only have
brought 15,000 men with him: Soult could not have added a greater field
force than 25,000 men more--as was repeatedly shown when he tried to
concentrate in Estremadura. Their joint 40,000 would have neither been
enough to face Wellington nor to threaten Portugal. Meanwhile Spain
from the Ebro to the Sierra Morena would have passed into the hands of
the Allies. It is unnecessary to dilate further on the topic.

A more interesting problem, and one into which Napier went at great
length, is the criticism of the campaigns of 1812 from the other
point of view, that of Wellington. It is clear that there is nothing
but praise to be bestowed on the masterly strategical combination
of January and March, which brought about the captures of Ciudad
Rodrigo and Badajoz. Each fell before a blow delivered at the precise
moment when it must be most effective. The position of the enemy had
been carefully calculated, and every adverse possibility taken into
consideration. It is obvious that Rodrigo was doomed without fail
from the first, because Wellington had realized and demonstrated to
himself the inability of the French to hinder his enterprise, after the
Imperial orders had sent Montbrun off to the borders of Valencia. And
Badajoz was destined to fall also, unless Marmont should help Soult at
the earliest possible moment and with the greatest possible force.
There was in this case an adverse chance, though not a very great one:
that it never came near to occurring was due to the Emperor’s removal
of Marmont’s southern divisions from the Tagus valley. But even if
this fortunate intervention of Napoleon had not simplified the task of
the Allied Army, it was still improbable that Marmont would appear in
time; and the improbability had been ascertained by careful study of
the state of the magazines and the distribution of the cantonments of
the Army of Portugal. Soult without Marmont could accomplish nothing,
and on this fact Wellington based his plan. If the Duke of Dalmatia
had brought up 10,000 men more than he actually did, his advance would
still have been insufficient to save Badajoz.

As to the details of the siege of that fortress, we have seen that
things by no means went as Wellington desired. He himself threw the
blame on the want of trained sappers, and the inexpertness of his
engineer officers[241]. The engineers’ reply was that they were
directed to work ‘against time’, and not given sufficient days or
means to carry out their operations according to the regular methods
of their craft. ‘The project of attack adopted would not stand the
test of criticism as a scientific operation, but possessed merit as a
bold experiment to reduce in an unusually short time a considerable
fortress, well armed and well countermined, by the agency of unskilled
sappers, no miners, and insufficient ordnance[242].’ Probably the
verdict of the historian must be that the time-problem was the
dominating fact, and that had there been no relieving armies in the
field other methods would have been pursued[243]. It is at least
certain that the rapidity with which the place was taken disconcerted
Soult[244], and upset all the plans of the French in Spain.

After the fall of Badajoz Wellington had his choice between the
invasion of Andalusia and that of the valley of the Douro. It can
hardly be doubted that he was right in choosing the latter, not
only on the ground which he himself stated, that Marmont’s was the
‘operating army’[245] and the more dangerous of the two, but because
(as Marmont put it) a disaster in the North would compel the French to
evacuate the South, while a disaster in the South would have no such
effect in the North. The victory of Salamanca liberated Andalusia and
Madrid as well as the Douro valley--a similar victory somewhere in
front of Seville would have cleared Andalusia, no doubt, but would not
have sufficed to deliver the Castiles and Leon. The Northern operation
was the most decisive. The well-timed storm of the Almaraz forts
secured for that operation a reasonable amount of time, during which it
could not be disturbed by the appearance of reinforcements for the Army
of Portugal.

The irruption into Leon in June, for which such careful subsidiary
operations had been made on all sides--in Andalusia and Catalonia, on
the Bay of Biscay and in Navarre--had at first all the results that
could have been expected. But it can hardly be denied that a grave
mistake was made when no adequate preparations were made for the siege
of the Salamanca forts--and this was a mistake that was to be repeated
under very similar circumstances before Burgos in September. There was
nothing to prevent a proper battering-train from being brought out from
Rodrigo or Almeida. Yet a worse slip, most certainly, was made when
on June 21st Wellington refused the battle that Marmont most rashly
offered. He could have fought with the advantage of numbers, position,
and superiority in cavalry, in a measure that he was not to enjoy
again during the Salamanca campaign. Why he held back we now know--he
thought (and not without good reason) that if he did not attack
Marmont, the presumptuous Marshal would attack him. Such a project
indeed was in his adversary’s mind, and if it had been carried out
the result would undoubtedly have been a second Bussaco. But Marmont
hesitated--and was saved for the moment. That he was able to retire
with an intact army behind the Douro was a terrible disappointment
to Wellington; for, during the deadlock that ensued for nearly three
weeks, the French Armies of the North, South, and Centre might have
spared reinforcements for the Army of Portugal. Soult’s perversity,
Caffarelli’s want of perception of the relative importance of things,
and King Joseph’s tardiness prevented these possible reinforcements
from getting up in time. But this Wellington could not foresee, and
he was under the impression that nothing was more possible than the
arrival of Marmont’s expected succours. If the French should play the
right game, Wellington thought it probable that he might have had to
evacuate Salamanca and his other recent conquests, and to retire to the
Agueda and the protection of Ciudad Rodrigo. Fortunately there turned
out to be no necessity for this heart-breaking move. Marmont came
forward on July 15th, without having received any of the assistance
that he had expected from the other armies, and involved himself in the
manœuvres that were to end in complete disaster. By his first movement,
the ingenious demonstration on the side of Toro, ending by the passage
of the whole French army over the Douro at the distant Tordesillas,
he distinctly scored a point over his adversary. Wellington was only
prepared to fight a defensive battle at this moment; and when the Duke
of Ragusa refused, on the Guarena (July 18), to indulge him in such a
fashion, and continued to turn his right flank on several successive
days, he always gave back, awaiting an opportunity that seemed never
about to arrive. The head-quarters staff of the allied army marvelled
at their leader’s caution, on the days (July 19-20) when the two armies
were executing their parallel marches about Vallesa and Cantalapiedra.
At any moment a battle on equal terms could have been brought about,
but it was refused. Yet Wellington had recently acquired the knowledge
that King Joseph was just starting from Madrid to join Marmont with
15,000 men; and a victory over the Army of Portugal before it should be
reinforced was the only way out of the dangerous situation. He would
not commit himself to the chance of an offensive battle, and--as his
dispatches show--made up his mind to abandon Salamanca and fall back
upon the Agueda, unless his adversary should oblige him by making some
obvious blunder.

The psychology of the moment--as has been shown above--was that he
considered that an indecisive victory, entailing heavy loss in his
own ranks, would have availed him little. Unless he could put Marmont
completely out of action by a very crushing blow, the Marshal would be
joined by the Army of the Centre and other reinforcements, and would
still be able to make head against him. At the bottom of his mind,
it is clear, lay the consideration that he had in his hands the only
field-army that Great Britain possessed, that in risking it he would
risk everything--even the loss of Portugal,--and that the total force
of the French in the Peninsula was so great that he must not fight
save at a marked advantage. His own 50,000 men were the sole hope of
the allied cause--Marmont’s Army was but one of several bodies whose
existence he had to bear in mind. As long as he kept his army intact,
the enemy could do no more than push him back to the Agueda: when they
had got him thus far, they would have to disperse again, for they could
not feed on the countryside, nor invade Portugal with less than 100,000
men. But if he were to wreck his army by suffering a check, or even by
winning a bloody and indecisive success, he could not calculate where
his retreat might end, or how great the disaster might be.

Wellington’s caution was rewarded on the 22nd July, when his adversary
at last fell into reckless over-confidence, and invited defeat, by
stringing out his army along an arc of six miles opposite the strong
and concentrated line of the Allies. The punishment was prompt and
crushing--the sudden advance of Wellington was a beautiful piece of
tactics, ‘a battle in the style of Frederic the Great’ as the sagacious
Foy observed, in a fit of enthusiasm wherein the admiration of the
skilled soldier prevailed over the national pride of the Frenchman.
Marmont’s host was not merely beaten, but scattered and demoralized: it
was put out of action for some time, and if Carlos de España had only
maintained the castle of Alba de Tormes there would have been nothing
left worth mentioning of the Army of Portugal. Even as things actually
fell out, the victory was absolutely complete, and placed all the
valley of the Douro and Central Spain in Wellington’s hands.

After Salamanca he had it in his power to choose between thrusting
Clausel and the battered Army of Portugal behind the Ebro, and marching
on Madrid to deal with King Joseph and Soult. His choice of the second
alternative has often been criticized, and ascribed to motives which
were far from his mind. The real cause of his turn to the South was
his belief that Soult must now evacuate Andalusia, and that he would
therefore have all his army concentrated, and no longer frittered away
in garrisons, as it had been for the last two years. Instead of being
able to collect 25,000 men only for the field, the Duke of Dalmatia
would have 50,000 available, and when joined by the King and perhaps by
Suchet, he would need to be faced by the whole allied army. Wellington
therefore intended that Hill should join him; together they could deal
with the largest block of French troops still left in the Peninsula.
His intention was to force matters to a decision in the South, and he
thought it likely that he might find Soult already marching upon Toledo
with his whole army. In this expectation he was entirely disappointed;
the Marshal--as we have seen--refused for a month to evacuate his
viceroyalty, and stayed there so long that Wellington began to think
that he would have to go down to Andalusia to evict him. ‘I suspect,’
he wrote at last on August 18, ‘that he will not stir, till I force him
out, by a direct movement upon him, and I think of making that movement
as soon as I can take the troops to the South without injuring their
health.’

This was an unexpected development: ‘any other but a modern French Army
would now leave the province (Andalusia), as they have absolutely no
communication of any kind with France, or with any other French army,
and are pressed on all sides,’ wrote Wellington. Yet Soult lingered,
and meanwhile the Army of Portugal, rallied in a shorter time than
could have been expected, returned to Valladolid, and assumed the
offensive in the valley of the Douro. The trouble in that direction
became so acute that Wellington resolved to march against Clausel, with
a force sufficient to drive him back to the Ebro, intending afterwards
to return to Madrid to pick up the other half of his own army, to join
with Hill, and then to deal with Soult, whose tardy resolve to evacuate
Andalusia was only just becoming evident.

The march against Clausel was necessary; and it seems a misfortune
that Wellington left three of his best divisions at Madrid--which was
obviously in no danger for the present, and where Hill was expected to
arrive ere long. It turned out that the force put in motion against
Valladolid and Burgos was too small--even after it had been joined by
Clinton and the Galicians--to secure the complete predominance in the
North which was necessary. Clausel retreated, but was pursued in a
somewhat cautious fashion, and only as far as Burgos. It would appear
that if Wellington had brought 10,000 men more with him from Madrid,
and if he had invested Burgos with the Galician Army, and followed hard
upon Clausel with all his Anglo-Portuguese, he might have driven the
French not only beyond the Ebro, but as much farther as he pleased.
For Clausel could not have stood for a moment if Wellington’s power
had been a little greater, and Caffarelli was in September so entirely
taken up with the operations of Home Popham, Mina, and Mendizabal that
he had not a man to spare.

But Wellington advanced no farther than Burgos, and allowed Clausel
to lie opposite him at Briviesca unmolested, till he had drawn great
reinforcements from France, and had at last induced Caffarelli to
come to his aid with 10,000 men. Meanwhile, he was devoting himself
to the siege of Burgos, where, by his own fault, he had no sufficient
artillery resources to subdue an improvised fortress of the third
class. The fault was exactly the same as that which had been committed
before the Salamanca Forts in June. And--as has been demonstrated
above--Wellington had been pressed to take more heavy guns with him,
both by Sir Home Popham and by officers at Madrid. And if he had called
for them, even after the siege began, they could have reached him in
time. His own curious comments on the facts are not convincing:

‘I see that a disposition 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 the
means of transporting ordnance and military stores.... I could not find
means for moving even one gun from Madrid. Popham is a gentleman who
picques himself on overcoming all difficulties. He knows the time it
took to find transport even for about 100 barrels of powder and a few
hundred thousand rounds of musket ammunition that he sent me. As for
the two guns that he endeavoured to send me, I was obliged to send my
own cattle to draw them, and felt great inconvenience from the want of
those cattle in subsequent movements of the Army[246].’

The answer that must be made to these allegations is that when matters
came to a crisis at Madrid, on Soult’s approach, enough transport was
found there to send off to Ciudad Rodrigo great part of the Retiro
stores--though much of the material there had to be blown up. If
there were not draught animals for even half a dozen guns to be got
at Madrid, why did Wellington write on August 31st that ‘if the enemy
shall advance, all arrangements must be made for the evacuation of
Madrid, such as sending away sick, _stores_, &c., and eventually for
the destruction of what cannot be carried off[247].’ Considerable
convoys marched with Hill when the Spanish capital was evacuated,
and it is impossible to believe that the 322 draught mules which, by
Dickson’s estimate, were the proper allowance for a 24-pound battery
of six guns with 180 rounds per gun, could not have been procured at
Madrid in September. A requisition on the batteries and transport
train of the four divisions left round Madrid could have been made to
supplement local resources. But Wellington had made up his mind to risk
the Burgos campaign with no more than Dickson’s trifling ‘artillery
reserve’--of which the only efficient part was precisely three iron
18-pounders. As to the allusions to Home Popham, they must--with all
regret--be described as ungrateful. And they conceal the fact that the
two heavy ship-guns which Popham had sent forward were only brought
_from Reynosa_ by Wellington’s own draught beasts. Popham got them
across the mountains from Santander by his own exertions, and would
have sent them some weeks earlier but for Wellington’s refusal to ask
for them. And it was the ammunition sent by Popham which alone enabled
the siege to go on for as long as it did.

The calculations--miscalculations rather--which kept the main Army
in front of Burgos to such a late day in the season as October 20th,
have been dealt with in a previous chapter. The united force of Souham
and Caffarelli was undervalued; it was not till Wellington saw their
two armies deployed that he recognized that they had 20,000 men more
in hand than he had supposed. And on the other front he relied too
much on the strength of the line of the Tagus for defence. We must
concede that if the weather had been the same in New Castile as it
was in Wellington’s own region, if the Tagus had been in flood like
the Arlanzon and the Pisuerga, and the desperate rains that prevailed
at Burgos had prevailed also at Toledo and Aranjuez, his plan would
probably have been successful. But who dares make the weather a fixed
point in military calculations? The season disappointed him, and
Soult was lucky enough to find bright days and hard roads and streams
half dry as he advanced on Madrid[248], though Wellington was almost
embogged and moved among perpetual fogs in the North.

Still, the cardinal fact at the bottom of the unfortunate Burgos
campaign was that the Anglo-Portuguese Army was not strong enough
for the task in hand, when Soult’s whole force, and great part of
the Army of the North also, came into the field to aid the armies of
Portugal and the Centre. The permanent evacuation of Andalusia and the
temporary evacuation of Biscay put into movement 60,000 men who had
hitherto been for the most part locked up in the occupation of those
regions. When they became an ‘operating army’ Wellington was hopelessly
outnumbered. He himself thought that he might yet have pulled through
the crisis, without being compelled to evacuate Madrid and the two
Castiles, if only Ballasteros had obeyed orders, and distracted Soult
by an irruption into La Mancha against the flank of the advancing
enemy. Undoubtedly that General was most perverse and disloyal; but it
seems quite possible that if he had advanced, as ordered, he would only
have let himself in for one of those crushing defeats which commanders
of his type so often suffered during the war. The fact was that the
French armies, when once concentrated, were too numerous to be held
in check. Wellington’s only real chance of success would have been
to concentrate every man either against Souham and Caffarelli on the
one side, or against Soult and the King on the other. This was made
difficult by the initial division of his army into two nearly equal
halves--which resulted in his own force being too weak to deal with the
French Northern Army, and Hill’s similarly too weak to deal with the
Southern Army. He had intended, when he left Madrid on August 31st, to
return thither with the bulk of his marching force, after disposing
of the northern enemy, and (as we have seen) this idea was still in
his head even as late as early October. But he failed to carry out his
intention, partly because he had allowed himself to get entangled in
the siege of Burgos, partly because the French army in front of him
proved much stronger than he had originally calculated.

The only occasion on which it was actually in his power for a few
days to combine Hill’s force and his own for a blow at one of the two
hostile armies, while the other was still far off, was on the 3rd-5th
of November. He saw the chance, but deliberately refused to take it,
for reasons which we have seen set forth[249], and which were perfectly
convincing. If he had concentrated against either of the French armies,
it might have refused to fight and drawn back, while the other was in
a position to cut off his line of communication with Salamanca and
Portugal.

He resolved, and at this moment the resolve was wise, not to attempt
any such blow, but to fall back on the well-known and formidable
positions round Salamanca. Here he thought that he could defend the
line of the Tormes, even against a combined force that outnumbered
him by 25,000 men. Probably he would have succeeded if the enemy
had delivered a frontal attack, as Jourdan and the majority of the
French generals desired. But Soult’s safe but indecisive policy of
refusing to make such an attack, and turning the Allied flank by the
fords of the upper Tormes, was adopted. The only counter to this move
would have been to assail the French while they were in the midst of
their manœuvre, even as Marmont had been assailed at the battle of
the Arapiles. But the disparity of numbers was on this occasion too
great for such a stroke to be prudent, and Wellington was forced, most
unwillingly, to retreat to the frontier of Portugal.

But for two mishaps--the coming on of absolutely abominable weather and
the misdirection of the food-supplies by Colonel Gordon--this retreat
would have been uneventful, and would have been attended with little
or no loss. For the French pursuit was timid and ineffective, and only
carried out by a fraction of the enemy’s army--nearly half of it halted
at Salamanca, and the remaining part was not strong enough to attack
Wellington. As it chanced, Gordon’s errors and the plague of immoderate
rains not only cost Wellington several thousand men, but produced an
impression of disaster both on the minds of those who took part in the
miserable march and on those of the captious critics in London. What
should have been ‘a good clean retreat’ became a rather disastrous
affair. But this was not due to the enemy, and the French observers
got small comfort from it--as we have already shown by quoting Foy’s
perspicuous and angry comments on the operations around Salamanca[250].
Wellington got off with ‘an army in being,’ and if it was tired out,
so was that of his opponents. A hundred thousand men had been scraped
together from every corner of the Peninsula to overwhelm him, but
had failed to do so. Meanwhile he had cleared all Spain south of the
Tagus valley from the enemy, had broken their prestige, and had shaken
to pieces the pretension of King Joseph to be taken seriously as the
monarch of the greatest vassal-kingdom of his brother’s empire.

SECTION XXXV

CHAPTER I

WINTER QUARTERS. DECEMBER 1812-JANUARY 1813

When the Anglo-Portuguese Army halted at Ciudad Rodrigo, and came back
once more to regular rations and marches that were no longer forced,
it was of course in very bad condition. The cold and wet of the last
ten days’ retreat from Salamanca had caused many a man to drop dead
by the way, and had sent thousands of sick to the hospitals, riddled
with dysentery and rheumatism. And the hospitals and dépôts were even
before this last influx loaded up with convalescents not fit for
service, from the casualties of Salamanca and Burgos. The December
morning states were enough to fill Wellington with dismay; of his
64[251] British battalions there were only 30,397 men present with the
colours--an average of much less than 500 bayonets to the battalion.
There were no less than 18,000 men in hospital--more than a third of
the total strength of the infantry arm. Thirteen regiments had more men
‘sick’ than ‘effective’; twelve were down to under 300 strong[252].
The cavalry had not lost so many in proportion--they had 5,700 present
under arms to 1,436 sick, but could not mount more than 5,000, owing to
the loss of horses during the retreat, and the surviving horses were
for the most part in bad condition.

The first thing necessary was to get the troops under cover and well
fed: a very long rest was obviously necessary to allow the way-worn and
exhausted men time to recover their strength, and the convalescents to
rejoin from the hospitals. With the winter drafts known to be ready and
starting from England, to the number of some 5,000[253], beside one or
two more complete battalions promised for the Peninsula, there might
be an army in April 1813 no less strong than that which had opened
the campaign of 1812. But clearly the only movement to be thought of
at present was that of getting the divisions into comfortable winter
quarters. Accordingly the army broke up a few days after reaching
Ciudad Rodrigo, and spread itself out in dispositions not unlike those
of the December previous, save that nothing was left so far to the
South as had been the custom in other years. For Soult was no longer
in Andalusia, and the right wing of the Allied army had no reason to
descend as far as the Guadiana.

By December the 1st Division had distributed itself on the upper
Mondego around Guarda and Vizeu[254]; the 3rd Division was farther
north, about Moimento de Beira; the 4th, with head-quarters at S.
João de Pesqueira, occupied cantonments along the Douro; the 5th was
a little lower down the same river in Lamego and the neighbouring
villages. The 6th Division lay somewhat farther back on the northern
slope of the Serra de Estrella, along the high road parallel with the
middle Mondego, with head-quarters at Cea; the 7th at Moimento da Serra
and Santa Marinha, also under the Estrella. Pack’s and Bradford’s
Portuguese went north of the Douro, to Penafiel and Villa Real
respectively. Only the much-enduring Light Division was left in rather
cold and bare quarters on the frontier, occupying familiar billets at
Fuentes de Oñoro, Alameda, Gallegos, and other villages between the Coa
and the Agueda. The cavalry was all sent back to the rear, even so far
as the coast-plain at the mouths of the Vouga and the Mondego, save
V. Alten’s brigade, which remained on the Agueda in company with the
Light Division, and D’Urban’s Portuguese, who went back to Braganza, in
the far north-east of the Tras-os-Montes, on the Spanish frontier. Any
observer noting these dispositions as a whole could not but conclude
that they were most easily explained by an intention to resume in the
next spring the old line of the Allied advance of 1812; since all
the British troops were conveniently placed for a concentration on
the Agueda, and a march on Salamanca. The fact that the three small
Portuguese units had been sent north of the Douro would attract little
attention. And this no doubt was the impression which Wellington wished
to produce on any secret agents of the French who might report the
location of his winter quarters.

Meanwhile, as in earlier years, Hill took the old Army of Estremadura,
the British 2nd Division, Hamilton’s Portuguese division, and Erskine’s
two cavalry brigades, back to the South, but only as far as the Tagus
and the Alagon, not to the Guadiana. He fixed his head-quarters at
Coria, and distributed the brigades of the 2nd Division in the mountain
villages above, covering the great passes of the Sierra de Francia and
the Sierra de Gata, the Puerto de Baños and the Puerto de Perales[255].
Hamilton’s division lay inside its own country, at Moraleja, Idanha,
and Penamacor. The cavalry head-quarters were at Brozas in the valley
of the Tagus, near Alcantara and its Roman bridge. Here Erskine,
the cavalry divisional general, committed suicide by jumping out of
a high window in a state of frenzy. Wellington had long wanted to
get rid of him--though not in this sad way--and for good reason, as
is explained by several incidents of 1811 and 1812 which have been
noticed in previous volumes. Yet he had never been able to obtain his
departure--political influences at home stood in the way. Erskine being
thus removed, the Commander-in-Chief at once dissolved the 2nd Cavalry
Division, and its two British brigades (Long’s and Fane’s) ceased to
have any other connexion with each other, beyond that of being both
attached to Hill’s Corps.

The disposition for Hill’s winter quarters was obviously intended not
merely to cover the great passes between the valleys of the Douro and
the Tagus, but also to give the enemy cause to think that Wellington
might some day attack on the southern front, either by a sudden advance
up the Tagus on Talavera and Madrid, or by a blow at Avila across the
Puente de Congosto defile. Either operation would be equally possible
to a force based on Coria. And repeatedly during the spring rumours ran
through the French lines that Hill had advanced to Plasencia or the
bridge of Almaraz.

Behind the long front that lay between D’Urban’s horse at Braganza and
Erskine’s horse at Brozas, the British army settled down for a very
protracted period of rest and reorganization--it was to be much longer
than Wellington had intended, owing to unforeseen chances. The Spanish
auxiliary forces which had marched with the Allies in the autumn also
dispersed: Castaños led the Army of Galicia back from the Agueda to
its own country, by a long march through the Tras-os-Montes. Carlos de
España put part of his division as a garrison in Ciudad Rodrigo, and
lay with the rest in the mountain villages of the Sierra de Francia.
Morillo, sticking close to Hill’s side, as he had done all through
1812, went back with him to the South, and wintered once more in
Estremadura, at Caçeres and the neighbouring places.

On the other side, King Joseph and Marshal Soult had also to place
their armies--as worn out as were those of their enemy--in winter
quarters. And the choice of theirs was a much more difficult problem
than that which lay before Wellington, since King Joseph had to settle
not only a military but a political problem. The whole fabric of the
French occupation of Spain had been dashed to pieces in the preceding
summer by the loss of Andalusia, the temporary occupation of Madrid
by the Allies, and the advance of the Anglo-Portuguese Army as far as
Burgos. It had now to be reconstructed--but on what lines? There was
clearly no possibility of reoccupying Andalusia or Estremadura: to do
so would have involved a winter campaign--which was unthinkable--and
an intolerable dispersion of the army which had been collected with so
much difficulty for the repression of Wellington. The real alternatives
possible were either (1) to reconstruct King Joseph’s Spanish kingdom,
as it had existed in the spring of 1812, minus Andalusia, making Madrid
the political capital and the military base of operations, or (2)
to recognize that the total strength of the French armies no longer
sufficed for such an ambitious scheme, and to occupy in strength
only Old Castile and Leon, with the provinces beyond the Ebro, making
Valladolid both the political and the military centre of operations,
and abandoning Madrid altogether, or only holding it as an advanced
post towards the south, on the extreme limit of French occupation.

After much debate Joseph and Jourdan chose the former plan, influenced
mainly, as the Marshal writes in his Memoirs, by the fact that to
give up Madrid as the capital, and to remove to Valladolid, would be
a death-blow to the prestige of the Franco-Spanish monarchy. It would
matter little whether Madrid were actually abandoned, or held as a
precarious outpost: in either case Joseph could no longer pretend
to be King of Spain[256]. In addition it must be remembered that to
give up New Castile and La Mancha would leave Suchet in a position of
isolation at Valencia, far too much advanced, and quite out of touch
with the other armies, and also that from the administrative point of
view Joseph had always regarded the revenues which he drew from Madrid
and New Castile as the only solid part of his very modest and irregular
budget. That a great error of choice was made is undoubted; but its
ruinous nature was only to be revealed by circumstances which the King
and the Marshal could not possibly have foreseen on November 20, 1812.
When they made their decision neither they nor any one at Paris, or
elsewhere in Western Europe, had a notion of the awful _débâcle_ which
was in progress in Russia. Napoleon had evacuated Moscow a month back;
he was now in disastrous retreat from Smolensk toward the Berezina,
with an army that was already crumbling under his hands. But that
the whole of it was destined to perish during the next few days, and
that France was to be left unguarded by any _Grande Armée_ when the
new year came, seemed an incredible contingency. Joseph and Jourdan
expected to draw from the Emperor drafts and reinforcements in 1813, as
they had even in 1812. If they had guessed that, instead, he would be
drawing drafts and reinforcements from them, they would have adopted
a different policy. But the celebrated ‘29th Bulletin’ was published
in Paris only on December 3rd, and did not get to Madrid till January
6th,[257] and even that dismal document did not reveal the full extent
of the ruin. It was not, indeed, till private letters from survivors
of the Moscow retreat began to drift in, three weeks later, that the
French head-quarters in Spain realized what the month of November had
meant in Russia.

It was quite natural, then, that King Joseph should have made up
his mind, at the end of the Burgos retreat, that he would occupy so
much of the regained regions as was possible, and would make Madrid
once more his residence and the centre of his operations. He was
right in believing that he had at least four months before him for
reorganization and reconstruction: Wellington was too hard hit to be
able to move before April at the earliest.

It was some weeks before the King was able to spread the three French
armies in the final positions which he had chosen for them. He left
Salamanca himself at the head of his Guard on November 23rd, and
moved on Madrid by way of Peñaranda, Arevalo and the Guadarrama Pass.
He reached the capital on December 2nd, to find that it had been
occupied a few days after he had left it on his march to Salamanca
by the Empecinado and his _partida_[258]. The guerrillero chief had
administered the city with the aid of an extemporized junta for
more than three weeks[259]. On the approach of the King he retired,
taking with him some citizens who had compromised themselves in
the patriotic cause. Joseph, however, showed himself particularly
gracious on his return, and endeavoured to produce an impression of
the restored solidity of his régime, by holding court functions,
reopening the theatres, and visiting hospitals and public institutions.
The demonstration had little effect, all the more because it was
accompanied by increased market-dues and the collection of arrears of
taxation. It was impossible to persuade the Madrileños that the King’s
return was for good, and confidence in his power was never restored.

Meanwhile the Army of the Centre reoccupied the provinces of
Segovia and Guadalajara with the northern part of that of Toledo.
While crossing the Guadarrama a few days after the King, its leading
division was caught in a blizzard similar to that which, on the same
spot, had impeded Napoleon on December 22nd, 1808, and lost a hundred
men frozen or buried in the snow[260]. Soult was directed to place
his head-quarters at Toledo, and to occupy that province and Avila,
with so much of La Mancha as he thought proper. The Army of Portugal
was allotted the provinces of Zamora, Leon, Salamanca, Palencia, and
Valladolid, with head-quarters at the last-named city. The front
towards Portugal and Galicia was held by one division at Leon, another
at Zamora, and two at Salamanca, the rest of the eight divisions of
this army being écheloned in reserve at various points in Old Castile.
But at the end of December the King determined that there must be a
shifting of cantonments, in order to tighten up his connexion with
Suchet at Valencia. He ordered Soult to send a division to Cuenca, as a
half-way house to the East Coast. To enable him to spare these troops
he was relieved of the charge of the province of Avila, which was taken
over by Foy, with the 1st Division of the Army of Portugal.

The extent of the French occupation in central and northern Spain at
the commencement of the new year, 1813, may best be defined by a list
of the Divisional head-quarters of the armies, which were, on January
15, Army of the South, 1st Division (Leval), Toledo[261]; 3rd Division
(Villatte), Talavera; 4th Division (Conroux), Madridejos; 5th Division
(Pécheux), Daymiel in La Mancha; 6th Division (Daricau), San Clemente
in the province of Cuenca. Of the cavalry Pierre Soult’s light horse
and Digeon’s dragoons were in a forward position in La Mancha, Tilly’s
dragoons in reserve at Toledo. The effective total of Soult’s army was
on this day 36,000 officers and men effective, beside men in hospital
or detached.

Of the Army of the Centre, Darmagnac’s Division, as also the Royal
Guard, was at Madrid, Cassagne’s Division at Arganda (twenty miles
farther east), the Franco-Spanish Division of Casapalacios at Segovia,
the cavalry dispersed at various points in a circle round Madrid. This
army had just lost Palombini’s Italian Division, which had served with
it during the autumn campaign of 1812. It was on its way to Burgos, to
join the Army of the North, to which it properly belonged. With this
deduction the Army of the Centre had still 12,000 French troops, plus
Joseph’s Guards and Spaniards, who must have made up at least 5,000
more.

The Army of Portugal was much more widely dispersed. It showed the
1st Division (Foy) at Avila, 2nd Division (Barbot) at Valladolid,
3rd Division (Sarrut) at Leon, 4th Division (Fririon) at Saldaña,
5th Division (Maucune) and 8th Division (Chauvel) at Salamanca, with
detachments at Ledesma and Zamora. The 6th and 7th Divisions, both
weak, were in process of being cut up to strengthen the others, as will
be explained later, when reorganization is in question. Of the two
cavalry divisions of the Army of Portugal both Boyer’s dragoons, with
head-quarters at Mayorga, and Curto’s light horse, with head-quarters
at Medina de Rio Seco, were keeping a line of advanced posts on the
Esla, to watch the Spanish army of Galicia. The total effective
strength, omitting sick, was 42,000 men.

The three armies had thus about 95,000 men under arms to cover the
enormous block of territory which they occupied. The distance from
Salamanca to San Clemente is 250 miles; that from Leon to Daymiel 280
miles. It is clear that a concentration on Madrid or Valladolid would
be comparatively easy. On the other hand there would be an intolerable
distance for the Army of the South to cover, if Salamanca were the
point chosen by an enemy for assault, or for the remoter divisions of
the Army of Portugal to traverse, if Talavera were selected. But, as
was obvious, there was no chance of any such blow being delivered at
present, since Wellington could not possibly stir till the spring,
while the Spanish regular forces in Andalusia and Murcia were
negligible quantities until the Anglo-Portuguese army should be able to
move.

All round the position of the French there was at this moment a
broad ‘no man’s land’; for their farthest outposts were nowhere in
direct touch with the enemy, but separated from him by many miles of
unoccupied ground, in which neither party kept permanent posts. Between
Astorga--the farthest advanced post of the Galicians--and the line
of the Esla, between Salamanca and Ciudad Rodrigo, between Avila and
Bejar, between Talavera and Coria, between Daymiel and San Clemente
and the northern foot-hills of the Sierra Morena, this broad debatable
land was in possession neither of the French nor of the regular armies
of their enemy, but of the guerrillero bands, under a score of leaders
small and great. And the difficulty of the situation for King Joseph
was that, while Wellington and Castaños and Del Parque and Elio were
quiet perforce at midwinter, the guerrilleros were not. Having ample
spaces of unoccupied border, in which they could take refuge when
pursued, and many mountain recesses, even within the zone of French
occupation, where they could lie safe against anything less than a
considerable flying column, they seemed to defy extermination. Even
in King Joseph’s most prosperous days, when the final triumph of the
French seemed probable, there had always been guerrilleros; but since
Wellington’s march to Madrid and Soult’s evacuation of Andalusia, it
no longer looked as if the national cause was hopeless. To collect the
army which drove Wellington back to Portugal in November every district
in Spain, from Biscay to La Mancha, had been stripped for a time of
its army of occupation. Regions long tamed had been out of hand for
four or five months, enjoying an unruly and uncomfortable freedom,
in which local juntas and guerrillero chiefs, who took the pose of
military governors, contended for authority. And when the French came
back they found that their old prestige was gone and that it could
only be restored, if it could be restored at all, by ceaseless acts of
repression of the most drastic sort. For if any town or village showed
any signs of willing submission, the guerrilleros descended upon it
when its garrison was absent, and hung or arrested ‘Afrancesados’:
while if the population (as was more usual) showed ill-will and offered
passive resistance, the French imprisoned or shot the magistrates, and
imposed heavy fines for disloyalty[262].

But while the whole of northern and central Spain was full of punitory
raids and executions, there was one region where the trouble passed
the limit of unrest, and could only be called insurrection, where the
French garrisons were practically blockaded in their cantonments,
and where the open country was completely out of hand. This was the
sub-Pyrenean district comprising Navarre, the three Basque provinces,
and the mountainous lands between Santander and Burgos. And from
the strategical point of view this was the most important tract in
all Spain, since the main communication with France lay through its
midst, by the great road from Madrid to Bayonne through Valladolid,
Vittoria, and Tolosa. We have seen in earlier pages that trouble had
been endemic in these lands ever since Mina’s appearance in 1810, and
the permanent establishment of those active partisans, Porlier and
Longa, on the Cantabrian coast-line. The creation of Reille’s ‘Army
of the Ebro’ in 1811 for the special purpose of making an end of the
northern bands had failed in its purpose. But things only came to a
crisis in the summer of 1812, when Sir Home Popham’s operations on the
Biscay coast cleared the French out of most of the smaller ports, and
gave the insurgents for the first time free communication with the
sea, and the inexhaustible supplies of Britain. We have seen in the
last volume[263] how the co-operation of Caffarelli with Marmont in
the Salamanca campaign was completely prevented by this diversion, how
Longa and Mendizabal retook Santander and for a space Bilbao, and how
Mina held the Governor of Pampeluna blockaded in the strongest fortress
of northern Spain. Caffarelli had recovered Bilbao in August; but when
Wellington marched on Burgos in September, and the Army of the North
was compelled to abandon all other operations, in order to succour
the retreating Army of Portugal, the capital of Biscay and all the
surrounding district passed back into the power of the Spaniards. In
the whole region nothing remained in the hands of the French save the
ports of Santoña, Guetaria, and San Sebastian, and a line of fortified
posts along the high road from the Bidassoa to the Ebro. And in Navarre
Mina held full possession of the open country, raised the taxes,
established courts of justice, and (what appears more strange) set up
custom-houses on the French frontier, at which he allowed non-military
goods to pass into Spain on the payment of regular dues[264]. He had
raised his original _partida_ to a strength of nine battalions of
infantry and two regiments of cavalry, possessed cannon, and had a
munition factory working at the head of the Pyrenean valley of Roncal.

Before Wellington commenced his retreat from the Douro to the
Portuguese frontier, or the armies of Soult and of Souham had joined,
to bring their overpowering force against the Anglo-Portuguese,
Souham, as we have already seen, had released the troops of the Army
of the North, and sent them back by Burgos to the Ebro, in order that
Caffarelli might reoccupy the lost districts, and make safe once
more the high road from Bayonne to Miranda, and the almost equally
important route along the Ebro from Miranda to Saragossa, by which
he had to keep up his connexion with Suchet and the East Coast.
Turning back from Valladolid on November 1st, the commander of the
Army of the North spent some time in opening up the high road, on
which many convoys were lying blockaded in the garrisons and unable
to move, and not till December was come did he clear Bilbao, and
drive the coast-land guerrilleros out of all the Biscayan harbour
towns save Castro-Urdiales, which had been fortified and was firmly
held. Putting off its siege for a time, he then pushed along the
coast to relieve Santoña, which had been blockaded for many months by
Mendizabal and Longa. He cut his way thither, and threw in a convoy
and reinforcements; but as soon as he was gone the Cantabrians came
back and resumed their former positions around the place. By the end
of the year Caffarelli had done nothing conclusive--some shadow of
occupation had been restored in Biscay, but when this was completed
the new garrisons had reduced his troops available for active service
to a very modest figure. And on January 7 he had to part with the best
unit of them--the brigade of the Young Guard under Dumoustier, which
had been left in Spain when all the rest of the Guards went off for
the Russian campaign in the preceding year. He was also directed to
give up to their proper owners three provisional regiments composed
of drafts for the armies of Portugal and the South, which had been
intercepted on their way to Valladolid, and used to stop gaps in the
line of communication. In return for these deductions he was told that
he should be given Palombini’s Italian Division, taken from the Army of
the Centre, three depleted regiments from the Army of Portugal,[265]
and one from Soult’s Army,[266] which he might fill up with drafts
from the Bayonne reserve. But it took some time to move these units
northward, and meanwhile Caffarelli was left with no more than 10,000
movable troops--though the Army of the North was theoretically about
40,000 strong. The Bayonne _chaussée_ was again out of control--so much
so that in January and February there were two complete breaks of some
weeks, during which neither convoys nor couriers could get through
from Tolosa to Burgos. Bitter complaints about this interruption of
communications are to be found in the correspondence of Napoleon and
King Joseph. The famous ‘29th Bulletin’ sent off from Paris on December
4th only reached Madrid on January 6th--the Emperor’s order for the
reorganization of the Spanish armies, dispatched on January 4th, came
to hand only on February 16th; and the reply acknowledging its receipt
was not received in Paris till March 18th![267] It had travelled by the
circuitous route of Valencia and Barcelona.

This was intolerable to both parties, and they joined in placing the
blame for delay on the shoulders of Caffarelli, who was denounced as
dilatory and wanting in energy. Jourdan accused him of deliberate
disregard of all military obedience. ‘He was ostensibly under the
orders of the King, but rarely corresponded with Madrid. When he did
send a report, he seemed to do so rather as a matter of politeness than
as the duty of a subordinate towards his hierarchical superior[268].’
On January 14th the Emperor ordered him to quit the command of the
Army of the North and return to Paris. Transmitting this welcome piece
of news to Joseph, the Minister of War remarked that Caffarelli had
insufficient numbers, but that ‘with more activity, continuity, and
method in his operations he might have been much more successful[269].’
In his place the Emperor nominated Clausel, who was on sick-leave
in France, but was able to rejoin almost at once. This choice was
generally approved, as his operations with the Army of Portugal after
the battle of Salamanca had won him a well-deserved reputation. But
all concerned, from Paris to Madrid, were destined to discover that it
was not Caffarelli’s incapacity, but the difficulty of the problem,
that was responsible for the unsatisfactory condition of affairs in
Biscay and Navarre. The capable Clausel made little more of the game
than the short-sighted and mediocre officer whom he superseded. But
this could hardly have been foreseen at midwinter; the fact was not
obvious till May, when (as we shall see) Clausel, though he had been
lent many thousands of troops much wanted elsewhere, had to confess
that his task was not completed, despite of four months of energetic
effort, countless marches and counter-marches, and a dozen bloody but
inconclusive defeats inflicted on the Northern insurgents.

SECTION XXXV: CHAPTER II

THE TROUBLES OF A GENERALISSIMO. WELLINGTON AT CADIZ AND FRENEDA

Having sent his war-worn divisions into winter quarters, where they
were to remain with little change of billets till the next April,
Wellington could turn to the consideration of many political and
military problems for which he had been granted little leisure during
the long stress of the autumn campaign. He fixed himself down at his
old frontier head-quarters of 1811 and 1812, the village of Freneda
near the Coa, between Almeida and Fuentes de Oñoro. It was a small and
bleak place: observers often wondered why, with the whole of Portugal
before him, he chose it for month-long residence in the worst time
of the year. But in the winter of 1812-13 he remained stationary
there from the end of November to the latter half of May--save for
one rapid excursion to Cadiz and Lisbon, which took him away from
December 12th to January 25th--an odd time for cross-country travelling
in the Peninsula. Freneda had no amenities of any kind--save indeed
that it was in the midst of a good fox-hunting country, a rare thing
in Portugal. The Commander-in-Chief, on returning to his old base of
operations, picked up his pack of hounds, and treated himself not
infrequently to the one sort of field-sport in which he had a real
delight. In other respects the village was dull and inconvenient--it
could only just house his very small general staff; it was by no
means a central point among the cantonments of his army; and its
remoteness from Lisbon caused a delay of two or three days in all his
correspondence to and from home. The only things to be said in its
favour were that it was so close to the front line of the army on the
Agueda that there would be no possibility of missing any information
as to hostile movements, and that its remoteness and inaccessibility
preserved the Commander-in-Chief from many interviews with useless and
inconvenient visitors, who would have thronged around him if he had
lodged in Lisbon. The intriguer, the man with a grievance, or the man
with a job in hand, could not easily get to windy Freneda.

Only a steady perusal of Wellington’s Original and Supplementary
Dispatches can give the chronicler an idea of the varied nature of his
troubles and worries, during the winter that followed the Salamanca
campaign. They were not merely those of an ordinary general in command
of an army: his political position had now grown so important that not
only did all happenings in the Peninsula fall within his sphere, but
the Cabinet at home was continually consulting him on questions of
general European importance. And in the months after Napoleon’s Russian
_débâcle_ the politics of Europe came to a crisis, such as had never
been seen since first he assumed the Imperial crown. His domination
was breaking up: his prestige had received a mortal wound: alliances
were shifting: the wildest enterprises were advocated. There were those
at home who proposed that Wellington should take his Peninsula army
to Germany--or to La Vendée--and others who wanted to saddle him with
a large Russian auxiliary force to be brought by sea from Reval or
Odessa. On every scheme, however wild, he had to give his opinion.

But, placing in order of importance the many worries that beset
Head-Quarters at Freneda, it would seem that the most constant and
prolific source of trouble was a circumstance which ought rather to
have lessened than increased Wellington’s military difficulties--if
only men had been other than they were. It will be remembered that
as early as 1809 the project of making him Generalissimo of all the
Spanish armies had been mooted and rejected[270]. He had expressed his
opinion that Spanish national pride made it impossible. ‘I am much
flattered,’ he had written to the British Minister, ‘by the notion
entertained by some of the people in authority at Seville of appointing
me to the command of the Spanish Armies. I believe it was considered
an object of great importance in England that the Commander-in-Chief
of the British troops should have that situation. But it is one more
likely to be attained by refraining from pressing it, and leaving
it to the Spaniards themselves to discover the expediency of the
arrangement, than by any suggestion on our parts.’

Much water had flowed under the bridge since 1809. The appointment had
not come after Talavera or Bussaco, nor after the horrible disasters of
Ocaña, the Sierra Morena, and the surrender of Valencia. But the summer
campaign of 1812 had at last convinced the Cortes that the British
general, who had so often been criticized and accused of selfishness
and reluctance to risk anything for the common cause of the Allies,
was the inevitable man. In the full flush of joy and confidence that
followed the battle of Salamanca and the triumphal entry into Madrid, a
bill was laid before the Assembly to appoint Wellington generalissimo
of all the Spanish forces. It was supported by most of the leading
men of the ‘Liberal’ party, introduced by the ex-regent Cisgar, and
barely opposed by the ‘Serviles’, though one clerical member--Creux,
afterwards Archbishop of Tarragona--raised objections to giving such
a command to any foreigner, and expatiated on the selfish character
of British commercial policy. Despite of such murmurs, the motion
was carried by an immense majority, and the President of the Cortes
was authorized to direct the Council of Regency to make the offer to
Wellington. The form of words ran that considering the advantages of
unity in command, and the urgent necessity for utilizing to the full
the recent glorious triumphs of the allied arms, it was decreed that
as long as the allied forces were co-operating in the defence of the
Peninsula ‘Captain-General the Duke of Ciudad Rodrigo’ should have
conferred upon him the supreme command of all of them, to be exercised
in accordance with general orders, his authority to extend over all the
provinces of the Peninsula. And the ‘illustrious chief’ was directed to
correspond with the National Government through the Secretary of the
War Office[271].

This decree reached Wellington on October 2, while he lay at Villatoro,
conducting the siege of Burgos. He resolved to take up the long-delayed
commission, provided that he should receive the permission of the
Prince Regent to do so, and sent, through his brother at Cadiz, a
letter of conditional acceptance. His consent to serve was not couched
in very enthusiastic terms: being anxious to do all that could be
done to support the legitimate quarrel of the Spanish nation with
France, he had no objection to taking upon himself the additional
labour and responsibility of commanding the Spanish armies. The delay
which must be required, for getting leave from the Prince Regent to
make a formal acceptance of the offer, seemed to him of secondary
importance, because he was already in the habit of communicating his
general views on operations to the Spanish generals, and of making
suggestions to them, which always received the utmost attention. ‘I am
convinced they will continue the same practice, even though I am not
invested with the supreme command.’ These phrases look like deliberate
sarcasm, considering Wellington’s former relations with Cuesta, Del
Parque, Blake, and Mendizabal. But they probably mean no more than that
the present commanders of the forces which were actually co-operating
with him in 1812, Castaños, Morillo, and Carlos de España, had been
loyal and obliging. Finally, ‘he hopes that in the new and prominent
situation in which he is to be placed, he will have not only the full
support but the confidence of the Spanish Government, Cortes, and
nation[272].’

The inner meaning of these somewhat double-edged phrases is explained
in a memorandum for Lord Bathurst, the British Secretary of State
for War, which was sent home under the same cover as the Cadiz
document[273]. It was eminently not a letter to be shown to Spaniards,
and contained some of the most bitter expressions concerning them which
Wellington ever penned. No use could be got out of their armies, he
wrote, unless they were under his control. They had lost nearly all
their guns and cavalry, and generally could not act in bodies separate
from the Allied Army. Their discipline, equipment, and organization
was as bad as ever: yet if put in line with his own troops they might
behave quite well. He would prevent by good management repetitions
of those terrible disasters to individual armies which had so often
happened in past years. But his power over them must be made real,
and for that purpose he intended to apply the financial screw. All
subsidies advanced by the British Government to Spain must for the
future be expended wholly on such Spanish troops as were actually
employed in co-operation with the Anglo-Portuguese army, or else those
troops would become a fresh burden on the military chest. And in his
letter to Cadiz he had been careful to show that he did not intend
to allow the Spanish Government to dictate a military policy to him,
because they had placed their troops at his disposition.

These letters, sent off from the camp before Burgos on October 5,
got to London on October 20, and the Prince Regent’s approbation of
Wellington’s acceptance of the offer from the Cortes was granted at
once[274]. The dispatch conveying it was delivered at Cadiz on the 17th
of November, and on the 20th the Cortes confirmed its former decree,
and sent off a formal warrant of appointment to the new generalissimo,
which reached him at Freneda on December 4th. The confirmation was
not made with such general approval as the original appointment--and
for good reason. By this time it had become evident that Wellington
was not about to drive the French over the Pyrenees: he had raised
the siege of Burgos, and when the Cortes repeated their vote, was
known to be in full retreat for Salamanca. Hopes from his success
were no longer so high as they had been in September, and a nasty jar
had been given to the whole arrangement by the mutinous conduct of
Ballasteros, who (as has been shown in an earlier chapter) had issued a
manifesto against all submission to foreign generals, and had refused
to obey Wellington’s directions at a critical moment. It is true that
Ballasteros had been arrested and imprisoned, without any consequent
trouble[275]; but it was known that there were other Spanish generals
who were not without sympathy with his views.

Having received his formal nomination as generalissimo, Wellington
wrote to Carvajal, the Minister of War, on December 4th, one of the
most stringent letters that any secretary of state has ever received.
It reminds the reader of one of Napoleon’s epistles to Clarke or King
Joseph. The Spanish Government, he said, had now a right to expect from
him an accurate representation of facts, and he was going to perform
this duty. The discipline of the Spanish armies was in the very lowest
state; their efficiency was much deteriorated. How could any army be
expected to keep order when neither officers nor men had received
any pay for months--or even for years? But it was not financial
arrears that explained all defects: even in corps--like those of the
Galician and Estremaduran armies--which had recently been re-clothed
and regularly paid by Wellington’s own exertions, insubordination and
indiscipline were rife: they were as little to be depended upon in
the field as the rest. The officers, with some few exceptions, were
absolutely slack and careless: the desertion from the ranks immense.
He had hesitated at accepting the command, when he thought of what he
had seen of the Spanish troops of late. But having undertaken it, he
would not relinquish the task because it was laborious and of doubtful
success. There were four demands which he must make as a preliminary
condition: the Government must give him power--

(1) To have under his control all promotions and appointments to
command;

(2) To dismiss from the service any officer whom he thought deserving
of such punishment;

(3) To apply the whole war-budget to such services as he might choose;

(4) To appoint to his head-quarters a Spanish chief-of-the-staff, to
whom all military reports from the whole kingdom should be sent: so
that nothing should take place without his knowledge. Through this
officer he would correspond with the Regency, and send them regular
reports.

He then proceeded to definite demands as to administration. The
present state of military organization was absurd, burdensome, and
expensive. The realm was overrun with unnecessary army-commanders
and captain-generals, with immense and useless staffs. ‘For example,
General Castaños is most usefully employed as commander of the 5th
Army, whose territory consists of Estremadura and Castile. But there
is a captain-general and a large staff in each of these provinces,
though the troops in the former are not enough to make a full garrison
for Badajoz, or those in the latter to make a full garrison for Ciudad
Rodrigo[276].’ The captain-generals and their staffs have nothing to
administer, are quite useless, and absorb money which should go to the
army. In the same way the 2nd (Valencian) and 3rd (Murcian) Armies,
together have a strength equivalent to two divisions, yet have each the
full military and civil staff of a complete army[277]. So has the 9th
(Cantabrian) Army, which is composed entirely of guerrillero bands.
Only the Andalusian and Galician troops are sufficiently numerous to be
worth calling armies at all.

The first thing to do is to cut down unnecessary commanders-in-chief
and staffs. The Galician, Castilian, and Estremaduran commands
should be at once amalgamated, and put under Castaños, with one
single staff for all three. Probably the same should be done with
the Andalusian, Murcian, and Valencian commands. An immense body of
superfluous staff-officers must be sent back to Cadiz at once. As a
second step he would have to revise the organization of the country
into captain-generalships and intendancies. Captain-generals often
hampered army-commanders; intendants must probably be put under
military authority. This was no doubt wrong in principle. But the civil
intendant was powerless, in a country just liberated from the enemy
and full of trouble and disorder. He could not exert authority unless
he were lent military assistance: yet he would probably fall out with
the military chief, because their ends would be divergent[278]. ‘When
the enemy is still in the country that must be done which tends most
directly to drive him out--whatever constitutional principles may be
violated in the process[279].’

Finally, Wellington resolved that he must come down to Cadiz in
person to urge his schemes of reorganization on the Regency and the
Cortes--obviously a most invidious task, since no nation likes to have
administrative reforms thrust upon it by a foreigner--more especially
by a foreigner whose tone is dictatorial and whose phrases seem almost
deliberately worded so as to wound national pride.

On December 12th he started out to deal with the Cadiz bureaucrats,
planning to cover the whole 300 miles from Freneda in six days. As
a matter of fact he took eleven, partly because he was smitten with
lumbago, which made riding painful, partly because he was delayed
one night in the Pass of Perales, and two at Albuquerque, by floods,
which made mountain-streams impassable for many hours. Immediately on
reaching the seat of government, where he was received with great state
if with little real cordiality, he started on his campaign against the
Regency, the Cortes, and the Minister of War. It is much to the credit
of the Spaniards that, though many of his demands were unpalatable, the
greater part of them were conceded with slight variation of terms. It
is curious to note the points on which the Regency proved recalcitrant
and started argument. Of the four great preliminary conditions which
Wellington exacted, they granted at once that which seemed the most
important of all--the creation of a Spanish chief-of-the-staff to be
attached to Wellington’s head-quarters, and conceded that all military
correspondence should pass through his hands. The person selected was
General Wimpffen, a Spanish-Swiss officer, of whom we have had to speak
occasionally in dealing with Catalonian affairs--he had been Henry
O’Donnell’s adjutant-general in 1810. He was a non-political soldier
of good abilities, and Wellington found him laborious and obliging:
there seems never to have been any friction between them. Secondly, the
Regency granted the great point that the whole British subsidy should
be applied to such military expenses as Wellington should designate:
and they afterwards went so far as to order that in the recovered
provinces nine-tenths of the taxes raised should be devoted to military
purposes. But they haggled on the two conditions dealing with military
patronage. Instead of giving the generalissimo power to revise all
appointments, they proposed that ‘no officer should be promoted to
a chief command, or the command of a division, or any extraordinary
command, except at the recommendation of the general-in-chief. With
regard to other promotions the rules of the Spanish service shall
be strictly observed.’ This left all patronage from the rank of
brigadier-general downward in the hands of the Minister of War and the
Cortes. And whereas Wellington had proposed, as his second condition,
that he should have power to cashier any officer whom he considered
deserving of such punishment, the Regents offered him only the right of
suspending and sending away from the army in the field officers guilty
of grave misconduct[280].

It is clear that these variations on the original proposals had two
main objects. The Spaniards evidently thought that if Wellington
had every officer down to the lowest under his thumb, liable to be
cashiered without any appeal, he might use this tremendous power to
stock the whole army with men of one political colour, and make it into
a machine quite independent of the Government, and capable of being
turned against it. And similarly there was a great difference between
the right to send an officer away from the front, and the right to
drive him out of the army. To be put on half-pay, or on administrative
duty in some office at Cadiz, was a much less terrible fate than
cashiering.

It must be remembered that many Spaniards thought Wellington capable
of aiming at a military dictatorship, to which he might be helped by
generals who were considered Anglophils, such as Castaños, his nephew
and chief-of-the-staff Giron, or Morillo. And others believed that
British policy secretly desired the seizure of Cadiz and Minorca and
the reduction of Spain to a Protectorate. Now if there had been any
truth in these absurd suspicions, there is no doubt that the powers
which Wellington demanded would have given him the chance of carrying
out such designs. And there were an infinite number of Spanish
officers, from generals like La Peña down to petty governors and
members of provincial staffs, who had come into direct contact with
Wellington, and knew his unflattering opinion of them. All these men in
disgrace, or disgruntled placemen, thought that the new generalissimo
would start his career by a general cashiering of those against whom he
had an old grudge.

Hence pressure was brought to bear upon the Regents and the Cortes
from many and diverse quarters, with the common plea that there must
be no British military dictatorship, and that Spanish officers must be
protected from possible persecution and oppression. The underlying idea
was that if the mass of the middle and lower grades in the army were
out of Wellington’s supervision, it did not matter so much who held
the post of army-commander or captain-general. For the chiefs, though
in influential posts, were few, and would not be able to carry their
subordinates with them in any unpopular movement dictated to them by
the generalissimo.

After much discussion, and with reluctance[281], Wellington accepted
the modifications--thinking that the other things conceded gave him
practically all that he needed. He was to find out his error in
the year that followed. He had not guarded himself against seeing
officers with whom he was satisfied removed from his field-army under
the pretence of promotion, or of transference to other duties, or of
political offences. He had forgotten to demand that he should have
the power of _retaining_ as much as that of _dismissing_ generals. In
this way he was deprived of the services of Castaños and afterwards
of Giron, both of whom he was anxious to keep. Successors technically
unobjectionable, whom he had no wish to ‘blackball,’ were substituted
for them, to his deep regret. And another evasion of his intention
was that officers whom he had intended to disgrace, and had removed
from the front, were given posts elsewhere which could not be called
‘divisional’ or ‘separate’ commands, but were quite desirable; and so
while the letter of the bargain was kept, the purpose of inflicting
punishment on such people was foiled.

Another long controversy was provoked by Wellington’s proposal
that the small armies should be amalgamated, and that unnecessary
captain-generals with their staffs should be got rid of. Much but
not all of what he asked was conceded. The Murcian and Valencian
armies were consolidated, and given the new name of the ‘Second
Army’--the Catalan army being still the ‘First Army’. But they were
not amalgamated with the Andalusian command (now the ‘Third Army’),
as Wellington suggested. And similarly the Estremaduran, Castilian,
and Galician armies, with the outlying Cantabrian division, ceased to
be the 5th, 6th, and 7th Armies, and took the new name of the Fourth.
And a great reduction of staffs and removal of contending military
authorities was procured, by nominating Elio, commander of the new 2nd
Army, to be Captain-General of Murcia and Valencia, Del Parque of the
3rd Army to be Captain-General of Granada and Jaen, and Castaños to be
Captain-General alike of Estremadura, Galicia, and Castile. This was
all to the good, but the Cortes refused Wellington’s other proposal,
that the civil government in each province should be placed under the
control of the army-commanders. Declaring that it was constitutionally
impossible to abolish the independence of the civil power, the Cortes
yet conceded that the _jefe político_ (or provincial prefect) and the
Intendant should obey the Captain-General ‘in all matters relating to
the Army[282],’ also that nine-tenths of the revenue in each province
should be allocated to the military budget. This would have worked
if all parties concerned had been both willing and competent; but
it remained a melancholy fact throughout the next campaign that the
army-commanders could seldom get either money or food from the civil
authorities, and that most essential operations were delayed by the
absolute impossibility of moving large bodies of men without adequate
magazines or a fair supply of money. The only regular income of the
army was that drawn from the British subsidy.

But the worst of Wellington’s troubles were yet some months ahead.
The Regency with which he had made his bargain[283] was displaced in
March 1813, and succeeded by another. The Cortes was jealous of the
Executive, and had determined to make for itself a supreme authority
which should have neither brains nor energy. The subject of quarrel
chosen was the old Regency’s alleged slackness in carrying out a recent
Act which had abolished that moribund abuse the Inquisition[284].
After an all-night sitting and a vote of censure, the Regents were
dismissed, and replaced by a group appointed under an absurd principle
borrowed from the old régime, which was applied because it suited the
desires of the assembly for the moment. It was composed of the three
senior members of the Council of State--senility and weakness being
desired. These were the Cardinal Bourbon--Archbishop of Toledo--an
aged scion of the royal house, and the Councillors Pedro Agar and
Gabriel Cisgar, who had been Regents before, but had been got rid of
for incompetence. Thus all real power went to the Chamber itself--the
Regency having become a negligible quantity. Wellington’s position was
decidedly impaired by the change--largely because a new minister-of-war
had come into office, General Juan O’Donoju, of whom he had an evil
memory as Cuesta’s chief-of-the-staff during the Talavera campaign.
This clever, shifty, and contentious Irish-Spanish officer broached
the theory that the agreement of December 1812 did not bind the new
Regents, because they had never assented to it, and because it was
contrary to the spirit of the Constitution that a foreigner should have
the power to appoint or dismiss Spanish generals.

When Henry Wellesley at Cadiz, instructed by his brother, turned his
heaviest diplomatic batteries[285] upon the Regents, and privately
warned the leading members of the Cortes of the awkward results that
would follow the repudiation of the agreement, O’Donoju was disavowed
but not displaced. He continued to give perpetual trouble through the
following summer by his persistent intrigues. Wellington was by no
means satisfied with the attempts that were made to propitiate him,
by the formal recognition of his status as generalissimo by the new
Regents, and the gift of a great estate in Granada, the royal domain of
Soto de Roma, which had been usurped by Godoy. He did not want grants
but real authority. Of his future troubles we shall have to speak in
their proper place.

The most enduring of them was provincial maladministration, which
rendered so many of his orders futile. For usually when he directed
a division to move, he was informed that it was destitute of both
munitions and transport[286]. And changes of organization were often
made against his protests--e. g. a new army regulation cut down all
regimental formations to a single battalion of very heavy strength
(1,200 bayonets). Wellington would have preferred a two-battalion
formation, in which the second unit should act as a dépôt and feeder
to the first[287]. He complained that if a regiment was badly cut
up in action, there would be no machinery for keeping it up to a
decent average. The experience of the British army with regard to
single-battalion corps had been conclusive against the system for
the last five years of Peninsular service. But his protests were
vain--internal organization of units did not come within the wording of
his powers as generalissimo, and the new organization continued, dozens
of second battalions being scrapped.

The net result was that, when Wellington took the field in May 1813,
he only had with him two of Castaños’s divisions and three of those
of the Army of Galicia--less than 25,000 men. The Andalusian ‘Army of
Reserve,’ which had been promised to him, started late for want of
organization, moved slowly for want of magazines, and only reached the
front when the battle of Vittoria had been won and the French had been
expelled from Spain[288]. The Cortes had at least 160,000 men under
arms; not a sixth part of them were available during the decisive
operations. But of this more in its proper place.

Portugal, as usual, contributed its share to the troubles of the
Commander-in-Chief, though they were but trifling compared to the
Spanish problems. The Prince Regent at Rio de Janeiro was an expensive
person, who actually at the worst of the war drew money out of Portugal
from the Braganza private domains, though he had all the revenues of
Brazil to play with[289]. Moreover, he had a tiresome habit of sending
incompetent hangers-on to Europe, with a request that berths might
be found for them. But he was not actively noxious--the same could
not be said of his wife, the Spanish princess Carlotta, who was still
harping on her natural claim to be Regent of Spain on behalf of her
imprisoned brother Ferdinand, and still interfered from time to time
at Cadiz, by ordering the small knot of deputies who depended on her
to attack the existing regency, or to vote in incalculable ways on
questions of domestic politics. Fortunately she was so great a clerical
and reactionary that the ‘Liberal’ majority in the Cortes had secretly
resolved that she should never get into power. When the old regency was
evicted in March 1813, it was suspected that the Cardinal Bourbon was
put at the head of the succeeding body mainly because the presence of a
prince of the blood in the Executive seemed to make it unnecessary to
import another member of the royal house. For this small mercy Henry
Wellesley wrote a letter of thanksgiving to his brother at the front.
It was fortunate that the Prince Regent himself gave no encouragement
to his wife’s ambitions, being as indolent as she was active, and very
jealous of her secret intrigues with foreigners. At one time during
the winter of 1812-13 she showed an intention of departing for Europe,
but with the assistance of the British ambassador João succeeded in
frustrating her scheme for appearing at Cadiz in person to claim her
supposed rights.

Meanwhile the civil government of Portugal continued to be directed by
the existing Council of Regency, of whom the majority were honest if
not always well-advised. It is true that Wellington’s old enemies[290]
the Patriarch of Lisbon and the Principal Sousa still remained members
of it: the determination to evict them which he had declared in 1810
was never carried out--the one was so powerful from his position in
the Church, the other from the influence of the widespread Sousa
family, that in the end he left them undisturbed. They were perhaps
less dangerous in the Regency than out of it, with their hysterical
appeals to narrow national sentiment, protests against the doings of
their colleagues, and perpetual intrigues. A _frondeur_ is partly
muzzled when he holds office. And in practical administration they
were steadily voted down by the majority of the Regency, consisting
of the Marquis of Olhão, the Conde de Redondo[291], Dr. Nogueira, and
last but not least the British Minister Sir Charles Stuart, whose
presence on the board was perhaps necessary, but certainly very trying
to Portuguese _amour-propre_. The three native regents were genuine
patriots, and good friends of the alliance, but a little antiquated in
their views as to administration and finance. The Secretary of State,
Miguel Forjaz, to whom so many of Wellington’s letters are addressed,
was a much more modern personage with a broader intelligence: indeed,
Wellington considered him on the whole the most capable statesman in
the Peninsula.

There were two standing sources of friction between the British army
and the Portuguese Regency--both inevitable, and both tiresome from the
point of view of the necessary _entente_ between two allied nations.
The more irritating but less important was trouble caused by the daily
movement of troops, especially troops in small bodies, or individual
officers. A perusal of the records of many scores of courts martial,
as well as of the correspondence of Wellington and Beresford, leads
to the conclusion that there were grave faults on both sides. Parties
of British soldiers on the march, when unaccompanied by an officer,
were given to the illegal ‘embargoing’ of carts or mules, to the
extortion of food by force or threats, to mishandling of the peasantry
when denied what they asked: occasionally they went so far as acts
of murder or arson[292]. And it cannot be denied that individual
officers of unsatisfactory type were occasionally guilty of gross
misconduct--drunken orgies, wanton disregard of legal authority in
requisitions, even acts of insult or assault on local magistrates[293].
On the other hand, the provocation was often considerable--there were
plenty of cases established of the denial of legal billets, which
kept parties waiting in the rain for hours, of wanton incivility,
of attempts at extortion in prices, of actual highway robbery[294],
and false accusations brought up to cover neglect of duty. One
of Wellington’s main complaints was that he had to waste time in
investigating imaginary outrages, which, on inquiry, turned out to
have been invented to serve as countercharges against accusations of
slackness or misfeasance. He was determined that outrages by the army
should cease--indeed, he hanged, first and last, some fifty soldiers
for plunder accompanied with violence, an offence which he would never
pardon. But the Portuguese magistrates were prone to make accusations,
and then to protest against having to support them by evidence. By a
curious turn of official pride many of them refused to testify before
courts martial, or even to send witnesses to appear before such bodies,
standing to the theory that it was beneath the dignity of a magistrate
to come with evidence before a foreign military tribunal[295]. The
result of this was that offenders brought up for trial, and often
probably guilty, had to be acquitted for lack of proof. On the other
hand, accusations, made and supported, were sometimes found to be
entirely groundless--in one supposed murder case, the alleged corpse
was discovered in perfect health; in another, a magistrate who accused
a British officer of assault was found to have been dining with him and
frequenting his quarters, long after the supposed offence[296].

The Portuguese Regency was bound to stand up in defence of its
magistrates--Wellington, though always ready to punish proved crimes,
was determined not to take accusation as equivalent to conviction,
merely because it was preferred by a constituted authority. Hence
came perpetual friction and recrimination; that things were no worse
was certainly due to the fact that the commander-in-chief’s iron
discipline, and rigorous dealing with his own people, could not fail to
impress the Portuguese with the fact that he was always trying to be
just.

The other and more fundamentally dangerous source of wrangling in
Portugal was finance. There could be no disputing the fact that the
part of the army which was not directly maintained from the British
subsidy was often six months in arrears of pay, and still more often
on the edge of starvation. Portuguese paper money, in which many
transactions had to take place, and which could be legally used
for a certain percentage of all army payments, was not only at a
habitual discount of at least 25 percent., but also fluctuating in
exchange-value from day to day. Hence came all manner of illicit
speculations by merchants, both British and Portuguese, who were always
trying to buy Government paper at under its quotation for the day, and
to put it off on others at an exaggerated estimate. The same took place
with Commissariat Warrants, which unscrupulous brokers bought from
the ignorant peasantry for a mere song, after setting rumours about
concerning impending bankruptcy of the state, and then cashed at full
face-value in Lisbon or London.

The Regency maintained that all the trouble came from the simple fact
that the war had placed upon the back of Portugal, a small country,
half of whose territory had been wasted by Soult and Masséna in 1809
and 1810, a much greater burden than could be borne. The armed forces
alone--some 50,000 regular troops, and often as many militia in the
garrisons--were so many hands taken away from agriculture, the only
staple industry of the land. Money was going out of the realm year by
year to purchase wheat, because the people could not produce enough to
maintain their existence. Prices had risen to heights that terrified
those who remembered pre-war days: the pay of the army was enormous
compared to the rates before 1808, and much of it was going, under
Marshal Beresford’s system, to the British officers who were now
holding a clear majority of all the senior ranks and commands. All
available money went to the army, and the civil administration was
starved. The Regency acknowledged the deplorable state of its finances,
but could only suggest remedies which had grave inconveniences. Another
British loan was asked for; but considering the heavy subsidy that
Portugal was receiving already, the British Government gave little
encouragement to such an idea[297]. The Portuguese minister in London
(the Conde de Funchal, one of the Sousas) suggested a large measure
of confiscation of Church and Crown lands--which could then be sold.
But this would involve a quarrel with the Church party in Portugal,
who had been loyal supporters of the British alliance, and probably
with the Prince Regent also, since he was drawing a private income
from the Braganza estates. It might also produce a general shock to
national credit, for it would deal a blow to the general stability of
society, and terrify all landholders. Moreover, it appeared doubtful if
purchasers of Church lands would present themselves: and Crown lands
were largely uncultivated and worthless tracts in the Alemtejo[298].
The measure was carried out, indeed, many years later, during the civil
wars of Miguel and Maria; but then it came as a consequence of a purely
domestic struggle, in which the Church party had taken the beaten side.
The circumstances of 1813 were entirely different. A third expedient
suggested was the establishment of a National Bank, after the model
of the Bank of England, which should take over the management of the
public debt and currency. But credit and guarantees must be at the back
of any such association, and unless the British Government were ready
to become the guarantor (which was impossible) it was hard to see what
new securities could be found.

Wellington’s panacea for financial distress was not heroic measures
but careful and honest administration of details. He held that there
was great slackness and partiality in the raising and collection of
taxes, and that the amount received could be very largely increased by
the abolition of abuses. In a very long memorandum, addressed to the
Prince Regent João in April 1813, he launched out into an indictment
of the whole financial system of the realm. ‘The great cities and
even some of the smaller places of the kingdom have gained by the
war: the mercantile class generally has enriched itself by the great
disbursements which the army makes in cash: there are individuals in
Lisbon and Oporto who have amassed immense sums. The fact is not
denied that the “tributes” regularly established at Lisbon and Oporto,
and the contribution of ten per cent. on the profits of the mercantile
class are not really paid to the state.... I have recommended the
adoption of methods by which the taxes might be really and actually
collected, and merchants and capitalists really pay the tenth of
their annual profits as an extraordinary contribution for the war....
It remains for the Government to explain to your Royal Highness the
reasons why it will not put them in practice--or some other expedient
which might render the revenue of the state equal to its expenses.’
He then proceeds to urge supervision of a Custom House notorious for
letting off powerful importers overlightly, and of the collectors of
land-revenue, who were allowed to keep state balances in their hands
for months without paying them in to the Treasury[299].

In letters to Charles Stuart[300] as a member of the Regency Wellington
let out in much more unguarded terms. The root of corruption was in
the mercantile community, who had squared the minor bureaucracy.
The army and state would have been ruined long ago, but for his own
protests and insistence, by the jobbers of Lisbon, not only Portuguese,
Jews, cosmopolitans of all sorts, but ‘sharks calling themselves
British merchants.’ The Government is ‘teased into disapprobation of
good measures by the merchants, who are interested in their being
discontinued. But when it is necessary to carry on an expensive system
of war with one-sixth of the money in specie necessary, we must
consider questions and adopt measures of this description, and we ought
to have the support and confidence of your Government in adopting them.’

Making allowance alike for the difficulties of the Regency, and the
irritation of the much-worried general, it seems fair to say that on
the one hand Wellington was right in denouncing jobbery and urging
administrative reforms, but that on the other hand no such reforms,
however sweeping, would have sufficed to make both ends balance in
the revenue of the exhausted kingdom of Portugal. The task was too
heavy--but the eighteenth-century slackness and corruption, which
still survived in too many corners of the bureaucracy, made it even
heavier than it need have been. It is probable that Wellington’s
palliatives would have failed to make receipts meet expenditure,
however hardly the screw might have been turned. But a levy of 10 per
cent. on commercial profits does not look very heavy to the taxpayer of
1921!

This is a military not an economic or a financial history; it is
unnecessary to go further into Portuguese problems. The main thing to
be remembered is that they bulked large in the correspondence of the
harassed chief, who sat writing minutes on all topics, civil no less
than strategical, in his desolate head-quarters at Freneda.

SECTION XXXV: CHAPTER III

WELLINGTON AND WHITEHALL

The position which Wellington had won himself by five years of
successful campaigning in the Peninsula was such as no British
commander since Marlborough had enjoyed. His reputation was now
European; his views, not merely on the Spanish struggle but on the
general politics of the Continent, had to be taken into consideration
by the Ministry. He was no longer an officer to whom orders could be
sent, to be carried out whether he liked them or not. He had become
a political personage, whose views must be ascertained before any
wide-reaching decision as to the struggle with Napoleon was taken.
In 1813 it is not too much to say that he exercised a determining
influence not only on the military policy of Britain, but on the whole
course of the Great War: as we shall presently see, the triumph of
Vittoria had the most marked and direct effect on the action of Russia,
Prussia, and Austria. But even before Vittoria he had asserted his will
in many ways--he had stopped some projects and approved others. The
factious resignation of his brother Lord Wellesley from the Perceval
Cabinet had not impaired his position, nor had the coming into office
of Lord Liverpool, when Perceval perished by the bullet of a crazy
assassin a month after the fall of Badajoz. Wellington’s correspondence
with the War Minister, Lord Bathurst, in 1813, is as confidential
and amicable on both sides as had been the case when the domineering
Wellesley had been in power: with the new Prime Minister, Liverpool,
there is no trace of any friction whatever--rather every sign of
reciprocal respect.

But the position which Wellington had achieved had its drawbacks as
well as its advantages. Since it had become habitual for the Cabinet
to ask his opinion on high military matters not connected with the
Peninsula, an endless vista of troubles was opened up before him, for
(as always happens in times of exceptional crisis) the Ministry at home
was being plagued with all manner of solicitations from every quarter
of Europe, to which answers were required.

While Wellington had been trailing back reluctantly from Burgos to
Ciudad Rodrigo, Napoleon had been conducting a retreat of a very
different kind from Moscow to the Berezina, a retreat whose character
and consequences were not known in London or in Spain for some weeks
later. He had left Moscow on October 19th, had dictated the famous
29th Bulletin, acknowledging the wreck of his project and the ruin
of his army, at Molodetchno on December 3rd, and had started on his
headlong flight to Paris on December 5th, leaving the small remnant of
his host to perish in the snow. He reached the Tuileries on the night
of December 18th, on the heels of the disastrous bulletin, which his
ministers had only received thirty-six hours before, on the preceding
day[301]. In London the fact that the Russian expedition had failed was
well known by the end of November, but the extent of the failure was
only realized when the 29th Bulletin got to Lord Liverpool’s hands, by
the usual smugglers’ route, on December 21st, rather less than five
days after its arrival in Paris[302].

The Prime Minister sat down next morning to communicate the fact to
Wellington, and to consult him upon the logical consequences. ‘There
has been,’ he wrote, ‘no example within the last twenty years, among
all the extraordinary events of the French Revolution, of such a
change of fortune as Bonaparte has experienced during the last five
months. The most formidable army ever collected by Bonaparte has been
substantially destroyed. It only remains to be ascertained whether he
will succeed in escaping himself--and with what remnant of an army....
Under these circumstances the question naturally occurs whether he
will leave the French army in Spain? We have a report that he has
already ordered 40,000 men from that country to rejoin him--but it is
only a report. I am inclined, however, to be of opinion that he will
withdraw the greater part of his forces from Spain. The only efficient
French Army at the present moment in existence is that under Soult:
and whatever it may cost Bonaparte to abandon Spain, I think he will
prefer that alternative to the loss of Germany. I may be wrong in this
speculation, but give you my reasons, and I am particularly desirous
of calling your attention to this view of the subject, in order that
you may take the necessary means for obtaining early information of the
movements of any French divisions toward the frontier, and that you may
consider what measures may be proper to be adopted if my conjecture
should be realized[303].’

Thus on the first day after the arrival of the epoch-making bulletin,
and before it was known that Napoleon himself had reached Paris, the
great strategical question of the winter of 1812-13 was formulated, and
put before Wellington. Will the French evacuate Spain? and, if so, what
should be done with the British Army in the Peninsula? There were three
possible contingencies--(1) the Emperor might abandon Spain altogether,
in order to have the nucleus of an army ready for the campaign of 1813
in Germany, or (2) he might not evacuate Spain altogether, but might
cut down his forces there, and order them to stand on the defensive
only, or (3) he might value his prestige so highly that he would
take little or nothing in the way of troops from the Peninsula, and
endeavour to make head against the Russians with whatever remnant of an
army might be left him in the North, with the conscripts of 1813, and
the levies of the German States--if the latter should remain obedient
to him[304].

At first it seemed as if the third and least likely of these three
hypotheses was the correct one. For strange as it might appear,
considering what had happened in Russia, Wellington could detect no
signs of any great body of French troops being moved towards the
Pyrenees. So far was this from being the case, that the cantonments
adopted by the enemy in December were so widely spread to the South,
that the only possible deduction that could be made was that the whole
of the armies of 1812 were being kept in Spain. We now know that the
reason for this was that the communications between Madrid and Paris
were so bad, that Napoleon’s orders to his brother to draw in towards
the North, and send large drafts and detachments to France, only
reached their destination in February. For many weeks Wellington could
report no such movements as Lord Liverpool had expected.

It was not till March 10th that the much-desired news began to come
to hand[305], time having elapsed sufficient to allow of King Joseph
beginning to carry out the Emperor’s orders. On that day Wellington
was able to send Lord Bathurst intelligence which seemed to prove that
the second hypothesis, not the third, was going to prove the correct
one: i. e. there was about to be a certain deduction from the French
armies in Spain, which would make it unlikely that they would take the
offensive, but nevertheless the main body of them was still to be left
in the Peninsula. Though the enemy had made no move of importance, it
was certain that Soult and Caffarelli had been recalled to France--the
latter taking with him the troops of the Imperial Guard, which had
hitherto formed part of the Army of the North. To replace the latter
Palombini’s division had been moved from near Madrid to Biscay. A
large draft of artillery had been sent back to France, and twelve (it
was really twenty-five) picked men for the Imperial Guard from each
battalion of the Army of Spain. On the other hand, a body of 4,000
men--probably convalescents or conscripts--had come down from Bayonne
to Burgos[306]. Seven days later a more important general move could
be detected: not only had Soult gone towards France with a heavy
column of drafts, but the French had evacuated La Mancha, the troops
formerly there having retired north to the province of Avila[307].
Again, a week later, on March 24th, it became known[308] that the Army
of the Centre had moved up towards the Douro, and that King Joseph
and his Court were about to quit Madrid. A little later this move was
found to have taken place: the enemy had evacuated a broad stretch of
territory, and ‘concentrated very much toward the Douro[309].’ On the
same day an intercepted letter, from General Lucotte at Paris to King
Joseph, let Wellington into the main secrets of the enemy: the General
reported to his master that the Emperor’s affairs were in a bad way,
that there would be no men and very little money for Spain, and that he
must make the best of what resources he had. His Imperial Majesty was
in a captious and petulant mood, blaming everything done by everybody
beyond the Pyrenees, but more especially his brother’s neglect to
keep open the communication with France and to hunt down the northern
insurgents[310].

This useful glimpse into the mentality of the enemy made it abundantly
clear that Lord Liverpool’s original theory, that Napoleon would
withdraw his whole army from Spain in order to hold down Germany, was
perfectly erroneous. At the same time, Lucotte’s report coincided
with all the other indications, in showing that the enemy had been
perceptibly weakened, could count on no further reinforcements, and
must stand on the defensive during the campaign that was to come.

But while it was still thought in Whitehall that the Emperor might
evacuate Spain altogether, various projects for turning the Russian
_débâcle_ to account began to be laid before Wellington. The first
was a scheme for fostering a possible insurrection in Holland, where
grave discontent was said to be brewing. Would it be wise for the
Prince of Orange, now serving as an aide-de-camp on the head-quarters
staff, to be sent home, so that he might put himself at the head of a
rising? Wellington replied that he no more believed in an immediate
insurrection in Holland than in one in France. ‘Unless I should hear of
an insurrection in France or in Holland, or should receive an order to
send him, I shall say nothing on the subject to the Prince[311].’ He
was undoubtedly right in his decision: the Dutch required the news of
Leipzig, still nine months ahead, to make them stir: an expedition to
Holland in the early spring would have been hopelessly premature.

A little later came a much more plausible proposition, which met with
an equally strong negative from Wellington. The ever-loyal Electorate
of Hanover was prepared to rise: to start the movement it would be only
necessary to land a nucleus of British-German troops somewhere on the
Frisian coast. Could Wellington spare the three cavalry regiments, five
infantry battalions, and one battery of the King’s German Legion which
were serving with him? After Tettenborn’s March raid to Hamburg the
insurrection actually broke out, and Bathurst suggested[312] that the
time had come to throw a considerable force ashore in the electorate.
He asked whether the Hanoverian officers in Spain were beginning to
chafe at being kept so far from their homes at the critical moment.
Again Wellington put in a strong negative. He had been to consult
General Charles Alten, ‘by far the best of the Hanoverian officers,’
as to the expedience of sending the Legion to Germany. Alten held that
‘the best thing for England, for Germany, and the world, is to make
the greatest possible effort _here_:’ the services of a few thousand
veteran troops would be important in the narrower field in Spain--they
would be lost in the multitudes assembling on the Elbe. If a large
body of loyal levies were collected in Hanover it might ultimately be
well to send a part of the Legion thither: but not at present[313].
This was the policy which the Ministry followed: in the spring they
dispatched to North Germany only cadres from the dépôts of the Legion
at Bexhill--500 men in all, including some experienced cavalry and
artillery officers. In July the 3rd Hussars went across to Stralsund,
in August two batteries of Horse Artillery, all from England[314]. But
no deduction of units was made from Wellington’s Spanish army--only a
few officers were permitted to sail, at their own request. The senior
of them, General Bock of the Heavy Dragoons, unfortunately perished by
shipwreck with his three aides-de-camp off the coast of Brittany in the
winter that followed Vittoria.

Bathurst was so far right that many of the Hanoverian officers
regretted their stay in the Peninsula: on the other hand, Wellington
was not merely trying to keep his own army strong, when he refused to
listen to the suggestions made him. It was perfectly true that 4,000
good soldiers were an appreciable unit in a Spanish battle--while they
would be ‘entirely thrown away,’ as he put it, in Germany. The margin
of strength was so narrow in the Peninsular Army that it was not safe
to decrease it.

The same question that arose about the King’s German Legion also came
up during the spring of 1813 with regard to the Brunswickers. Many
officers of the Brunswick-Oels battalion in the 7th Division were fired
with the idea of liberating Germany--they wrote to their duke, then in
England, begging him to have the battalion ordered home. He replied
that he had tried to get the War Office to let him go to the Elbe, even
with a small cadre, a few hundred men, but had been refused[315]. It is
much more surprising that this corps was not spared from the Peninsula:
Wellington had a bad mark against it, for its terrible propensity to
desertion, and a worse for the behaviour of one of its companies at
Tordesillas in the recent campaign. Probably he thought that, if he
surrendered the Brunswickers, he would have to give up the German
Legion also.

It is odd to find that among Wellington’s troubles were not only the
proposed subtraction of troops whom he did not want to lose, but the
proposed addition of troops whom he was not at all anxious to see in
the Peninsula. The story is one which illustrates the casual methods
of Russian officers. In February there came to Freneda a well-known
British secret agent, Mackenzie, the man who had organized the
successful evasion of La Romana’s Spaniards from Denmark in 1808[316].
He brought letters from Admiral Greig, commanding the Russian Black
Sea fleet, to the effect that there was a surplus of troops from
Tchitchagoff’s Army of the Danube, which could not be utilized in
Germany for want of transport and supplies. There were 15,000 men who
could be collected at Odessa and shipped to Spain, to be placed in the
Allied Army, if Wellington would accept them. The memory of Russian
co-operation in Holland in 1799 was not a very happy one: but it seemed
unwise to offend the Tsar, on whose goodwill the future of Europe now
depended. Wherefore the answer given was that they might come if the
British Cabinet approved, and if the Spanish and Portuguese governments
saw no objection. ‘One would think that the Emperor had demands enough
for his men,’ wrote Wellington to Charles Stuart, ‘but Mackenzie says
that they have more men than they can support in the field, which is
not improbable. The admission of Russians into the Peninsula, however,
is quite a new feature of the war: and it is absolutely necessary
that the allied Governments should consent to the measure[317].’ The
correspondence with Cadiz and London ended in the most tiresome and
ridiculous fashion--the Spanish Regency was at the moment in a state
of diplomatic tension with Russia, on some questions of precedence and
courtesy. It answered in the most downright fashion that the presence
of Russian troops in Spain would be neither helpful nor welcome. The
British ambassador at Cadiz was shocked at the language used, which
would be most offensive to the Tsar[318]. But the whole project
suddenly collapsed on news received from London. Count Lieven, the
Russian representative at the Court of St. James’s, declared that he
had never heard of the offer, that he was sure that no such scheme
would be approved by the Tsar, and that there was certainly no Russian
corps now available for service in the Mediterranean. Admiral Greig
had once communicated to him a scheme for a Russian auxiliary force
to be used in Italy--but this was a plan completely out of date, when
the whole Russian army was wanted for Germany[319]. Wellington had
therefore to explain to the Spanish and Portuguese Governments that his
proposals to them had been made under a complete misapprehension: his
_amour-propre_ was naturally hurt--Greig and Mackenzie had put him in
an absurd position.

Prince Lieven’s mention of Italy takes us to another of Wellington’s
worries. It has been mentioned in the preceding volume that Lord
William Bentinck, commanding the British Army in Sicily, had already
in 1812 been planning descents on Italy, where he rightly thought the
French military strength was low, after the departure of the whole of
the Viceroy’s contingent for the Russian War, and of many of Murat’s
Neapolitans also. So set had he been on expeditions to Calabria or
Tuscany, that he had made great difficulties when ordered to send out
the Alicante expedition to favour Wellington’s Salamanca campaign[320].
The news of the Russian disaster had filled Bentinck’s mind with new
Italian schemes--the conditions were even more favourable than in
1812. He was now dreaming of invading Italy with all the men he could
muster, and proposed on February 24th to the British War Minister that
he should be allowed to withdraw all or some of the Anglo-Sicilian
troops from Alicante. He had also seen Admiral Greig, and put in a
claim for the hypothetical 15,000 Russians who had caused Wellington so
much trouble. Knowing how much importance the latter attached to the
Alicante Army, as the real nucleus of resistance to Suchet in Eastern
Spain, he had the grace to send copies of his February dispatch to
Freneda.

This was a most irritating interruption to Wellington’s arrangements
for the next campaign: the Alicante force was a valuable piece in the
great game which he was working out. To see it taken off the board
would disarrange all his plan. Accordingly he made the strongest
protest to Lord Bathurst against the Italian expedition being
permitted. To make any head in Italy, he said, at least 30,000 or
40,000 men would be needed. No doubt many Italians were discontented
with the Napoleonic régime, but they would not commit themselves to
rebellion unless a very large force came to their help. If only a small
army were landed, they would show passive or even active loyalty to
their existing government. They might prefer a British to a French or
an Austrian domination in their peninsula, because it would be more
liberal and less extortionate. But they would want everything found for
them--arms, equipment, a subsidy. Unless the Government were prepared
to start a new war on a very large scale, to raise, clothe, and equip a
great mass of Italian troops, and to persevere to the last in a venture
as big as that in Spain, the plan would fail, and any landing force
would be compelled to re-embark with loss and disgrace[321].

On the whole Wellington’s protest proved successful: Lord William was
forced to leave a large body of his Anglo-Sicilians in Spain, though
he withdrew 2,000 men from Alicante early in April, when it was most
needful that the Allied force on the East Coast should be strong.
The remainder, despite (as we shall see) of very bad handling by Sir
John Murray, proved sufficient to keep Suchet employed. No Italian
expedition was permitted during the campaigning season of 1813, though
Lord William sent out a small foreign expeditionary force for a raid on
Tuscany, which much terrified the Grand Duchess Eliza[322]. Next year
only, when the whole Napoleonic system was crumbling, did he collect a
heterogeneous army of doubtful value, invade Liguria, and capture Genoa
from a skeleton enemy. But by that time the French were out of Spain,
and Wellington’s plans could not be ruined by the distraction of troops
on such an escapade. In May 1813 the Italian expedition, if permitted,
might have wrecked the whole campaign of Vittoria, by leaving Suchet
free to join the main French army. How it would have fared may be
judged from the fact that the Viceroy Eugène made head all through the
autumn against 80,000 men of the Austrian Army of Italy.

So much may suffice to explain Wellington’s dealings during the winter
and spring of 1813 with the British Cabinet. His advice, as we have
seen, was always asked, and generally settled the problem in the way
that he desired. So much cannot be said for his dealings with the
Commander-in-Chief at the Horse Guards: the Duke of York seems to have
been the last person in Whitehall to recognize the commanding intellect
of the great general. Though he always wrote with perfect courtesy, he
evidently considered that his own views on the organization, personnel,
and management of the British Army were far more important than those
of the victor of Salamanca. The correspondence of Wellington with the
Duke and his Military Secretary, Colonel Henry Torrens, occupies an
enormous number of pages in the volumes of Dispatches and Supplementary
Dispatches. Torrens, an obliging man, seems to have tried to make
himself a buffer between the two contending wills, and Wellington was
conscious of the fact that he was no enemy. The subjects of contention
were many.

One of the most important was patronage. Now that he had reached the
fifth year of his command in the Peninsula, Wellington considered that
he had won the right to choose his own chief subordinates. But still
he could not get officers of tried incapacity removed from the front,
nor prevent others, against whom he had a bad mark, from being sent out
to him. When he asked for removals, he was told of ‘the difficulty of
setting aside general officers who have creditably risen to high rank’
on the mere ground that they have been proved incapable, and unfit for
their situations. But it was far worse that when he had requested that
certain generals should not be sent out, they came to him nevertheless,
despite of his definite protest; and then, when he requested that
they might be removed, he was told that he would incur odium and
responsibility for their removal. ‘What a situation then is mine! It is
impossible to prevent incapable men from being sent to the army; and
then when I complain that they have been sent, I am to be responsible!
Surely the “odium” ought not to attach to the person who officially
represents that they are not capable of filling their situations’--but
(the aposiopesis may be filled up) to the Horse Guards for sending them
out. Yet Wellington’s pen did not add the words which are necessary to
complete the sense.

The most tiresome case in 1812-13 was that of Colonel James Willoughby
Gordon, who had come out as Quartermaster-General in 1812, when
Wellington’s first and most trusted quarter-master, George Murray, was
removed (quite without his desire) to a post in Ireland. Gordon was
sent by the Duke of York’s personal choice[323], without any previous
consultation with the Commander-in-Chief in Spain as to whether he
would be acceptable. The atrocity of this appointment was not only that
Gordon was incapable, but that he was a political intriguer, who was
in close touch with the Whig Opposition at home, and before he went
out had promised to send confidential letters on the campaign to Lord
Grey. This he actually did: the malicious Creevey had a privileged
peep at them, and found that ‘his accounts are of the most desponding
cast. He considers our ultimate discomfiture as a question purely of
time, and that it may happen any day, however early: and that our
pecuniary resources are utterly exhausted. The skill of the French in
recovering from their difficulties is inexhaustible: Lord W. himself
owns that the resurrection of Marmont’s broken troops after Salamanca
was an absolute miracle of war. In short, Gordon considers that Lord
W. is in very considerable danger[324].’ The writer was holding the
most important post on Wellington’s staff, and using the information
that he obtained for the benefit of the Parliamentary Opposition; he
should have been court-martialled for the abuse of his position for
personal ends. Wellington at last detected his mischief-making, by
the appearance in the Whig papers of definite facts that could only
have been known to three people--Wellington himself, his secretary
Fitzroy Somerset, and the Quartermaster-General. ‘I showed him,’ writes
Wellington to Bathurst, ‘my dispatch to your Lordship of August 3, as
the shortest way of making him acquainted with the state of affairs....
The topics of this dispatch find their way into the _Morning
Chronicle_, distorted into arguments against the Government. I am quite
certain that the arguments in the _Morning Chronicle_ are drawn from a
perusal of my dispatches, and that no one saw them here excepting the
Quartermaster-General and Lord Fitzroy. Even your Lordship had not yet
received this dispatch, when the topics it contained were used against
the Government in the newspapers.... For the future he shall not see
what I write--it would be no great loss to the Army if he were recalled
to England. I cypher part of this letter in the cypher you sent me to
be used for General Maitland[325].’

It was four months before this traitor was got rid of, though Lord
Bathurst had been shocked by the news, and corroborated it by his
own observation: he had seen mischievous letters from Gordon to the
Horse Guards, and if he wrote such stuff to the Duke it was easy
to guess what he might write to Lord Grey or Whitbread. Certain of
the newspaper paragraphs _must_ have come ‘from some intelligent
person with you[326].’ The strange way in which the removal was
accomplished was not by a demand for his degradation for misuse of his
office[327], but by a formal report to the Horse Guards that ‘Colonel
Gordon does not turn his mind to the duties to be performed by the
Quartermaster-General of an Army such as this, actively employed in
the field: notwithstanding his zeal and acknowledged talent, he has
never performed them, and I do not believe he ever will or can perform
them. I give this opinion with regret, and I hope His Royal Highness
will believe that I have not formed it hastily of an officer respecting
whose talents I, equally with His Royal Highness, had entertained a
favourable opinion[328].’ Three weeks later the Military Secretary
at the Horse Guards writes that Wellington shall have back his old
Quartermaster-General George Murray--and Gordon is recalled[329]. But
why had Gordon ever been sent? The Duke of York alone could say. The
impression which he had left as a soldier upon men at the front, who
knew nothing of his political intrigues, was exceedingly poor[330].

This was the worst trick which was played on Wellington from the
Horse Guards. Another was the refusal to relieve him of the gallant
but muddle-headed and disobedient William Stewart, who despite of
his awful error at Albuera was allowed to come out to the Peninsula
again in 1812, and committed other terrible blunders: it was he who
got the three divisions into a marshy deadlock on the retreat from
Salamanca, by deliberate and wilful neglect of directions[331]. ‘With
the utmost zeal and good intentions he _cannot_ obey an order,’ wrote
Wellington on December 6, 1812--yet Stewart was still commanding the
Second Division in 1814[332]. In letters sent to the Horse Guards
in December 1812 the Commander-in-Chief in Spain petitioned for the
departure of five out of his seven cavalry generals--which seems a
large clearance--and of ten infantry divisional and brigade commanders.
About half of them were ultimately brought home, but several were
left with him for another campaign. He had also asked that he might
have no more generals who were new to the Peninsula inflicted upon
him, because their arrival blocked promotion for deserving colonels,
to whom he was anxious to give brigades. ‘I hope I shall have no more
new Generals: they really do but little good, and they take the places
of officers who would be of real use. And then they are all desirous
of returning to England[333].’ The appeal was in vain--several raw
major-generals were sent out for the spring campaign of 1813, and we
have letters of Wellington making apologies to Peninsula veterans, to
whom he had promised promotion, for the fact that the commands which
he had been intending for them had been filled up against his wishes
by the nominees of the Horse Guards. Things went a little better after
Vittoria, when several undesired officers went home, and several
deferred promotions took place--the news of that victory had had its
effect even in Whitehall.

It is more difficult to sympathize with Wellington’s judgement--though
not with his grievance--in another matter of high debate during this
winter. Like most men he disliked talking about his own coffin, i.
e. making elaborate arrangements for what was to happen in the event
of his becoming a casualty, like Sir John Moore. He loathed the idea
of ‘seconds in command’, arguing that they were either useless or
tiresome. He did not want an officer at his elbow who would have a sort
of right to be consulted, as in the bad old days of ‘councils of war’;
nor did he wish to have to find a separate command for such a person
to keep him employed[334]. It was true that he often trusted Hill
with an independent corps in Estremadura; but frequently he called in
Hill’s column and it became part of the main army--as on the Caya in
1811, in the Salamanca retreat in 1812, and at Vittoria in 1813. In the
winter of 1812-13 a point which might have been of high importance was
raised: who would be his successor in case of a regrettable accident?
Wellington decided that Beresford was the proper choice--despite of
Albuera. ‘All that I can tell you is that the ablest man I have yet
seen with the army, and the one having the largest views, is Beresford.
They tell me that, when I am not present, he wants decision: and he
certainly embarrassed me a little with his doubts when he commanded in
Estremadura: but I am quite certain that he is the only person capable
of conducting a large concern[335].’ He also held that Beresford’s
position as a marshal in the Portuguese Army gave him a seniority in
the Allied Army over British lieutenant-generals.

This judgement of Wellington’s is surprising: Beresford was courageous,
a good organizer, a terror to shirkers and jobbers, and accustomed
to command. Yet one would have thought that his record of 1811, when
he displayed almost every possible fault alike of strategy and of
morale in Estremadura, would have ruled him out. Wellington thought,
as it would appear, that he had a better conception of the war as a
whole--‘the large concern’--than any of the other generals in the
Peninsula, and had every opportunity of knowing. On this most critical
point Wellington and the Duke of York fell out at once: it was not that
the Duke wanted to rule out Beresford because he was undecided in the
field, unpopular with his colleagues, self-assertive or arrogant. He
had a simple Horse Guards rule which in his view excluded Beresford
from consideration at once. ‘According to the general received opinion
of the Service no officer in the British Army above the rank of
lieutenant-colonel is ever expected to serve under an officer junior to
himself, even though he may possess a superior local commission.’ He
then proceeded to recall the fact that in 1794, when Lord Moira came
to Flanders with the local rank of general, Sir Ralph Abercrombie, and
a number of other general officers with commissions of senior date,
refused to serve under him: in consequence of which Lord Moira had to
resign and to return to England. There were many similar examples
in the past. The right of officers to refuse to serve under a junior
being established, it could not be argued that higher rank acquired
by that junior in a foreign service had any weight. Beresford might
be a Portuguese field-marshal, but from the British point of view he
was junior to Sir Thomas Graham, Sir Stapleton Cotton, and Sir Rowland
Hill. If by some deplorable accident Lord Wellington were incapacitated
from command at the present moment, Sir Thomas Graham, if with the
Army, would succeed. If Sir Thomas were on sick leave, Sir Stapleton
Cotton would be the senior officer in the Peninsula, and the command of
the Army would automatically devolve on him: if Sir Stapleton were also
on leave, it would go to General Hill.

‘It appears impossible to expect that British generals senior to
Marshal Beresford will submit to serve under him. It appears to the
Commander-in-Chief, therefore, that there remains but one of two
alternatives--the one to recall Marshal Beresford from the Peninsula in
case he should persist in his claim; the other, in case Lord Wellington
still prefers that officer as his second in command, to recall all the
British lieutenant-generals senior to him in our own Army[336].’

This was a maddening reply, for though Wellington liked Stapleton
Cotton he had no delusions about his intellectual capacity. The best
he could say about him during the controversy was that ‘he commands
our cavalry very well; I am certain much better than many who might
be sent out to us, and who might be supposed much cleverer than he
is.’ As a matter of fact, Graham was on sick leave, with an affliction
of eyesight, which was supposed to be likely to result in permanent
incapacity. Cotton was also on short leave to England on ‘urgent
personal affairs[337],’ but expected back shortly. Therefore the Duke’s
letter was a proposal to consign the fate of the British Army in the
Peninsula to a gallant officer with the mental capacity of a cavalry
brigadier, who had never commanded a force of all arms, and who was the
cause of much quiet amusement to his comrades, from his ostentatious
dress and unconcealed admiration for his own perfections.

Lord Bathurst tried to smooth matters, by asking Graham whether he
felt inclined to surrender any claim to take over the Peninsular
Army on account of his bad health. Sir Thomas replied that he should
decline the responsibility for that reason: that he hoped to cause no
difficulties, but that he could not agree that Beresford had any claim,
‘his obligation to the service bound him not to sacrifice the rights of
British officers from a purely personal spirit of accommodation.’ To
which Bathurst replied that if he waived his rights as a consequence
of his ill health, while making no concession on grounds of principle,
perhaps Hill and Cotton might do the same. To this the victor of
Barrosa answered that he might consent, on the distinct understanding
that no precedent was created, and that the arrangement was
temporary[338].

His compliance proved useful: Stapleton Cotton arrived in London
shortly after and ‘expressed himself decidedly against Sir William
Beresford’s claims, and with some warmth.’ Lord Bathurst explained to
him that Graham’s consent to the ‘temporary arrangement’ must govern
his own, and tried to put him off the idea that he himself would
undoubtedly become Wellington’s destined successor, if Graham refused
the post, by hinting that after all Graham might recover his eyesight,
and be able to take over the command. After showing much soreness,
Cotton reluctantly acquiesced. The War Minister, writing an account of
the interview to Wellington, ends with ‘I think it necessary to have
this explained beforehand, that you might not have any doubt whether
you were, after what has passed, to consider Sir Thomas Graham or Sir
Stapleton Cotton as the person who was to exercise the command in case
of your personal indisposition[339].’ So Beresford’s nomination was
passed, as Wellington desired, and contrary to the Duke of York’s views
as to the inevitable power of old precedent. But it was only passed by
the consent of the other parties concerned, however reluctantly given.
Fortunately Wellington preserved his usual splendid health, and the
experiment of trusting the whole Allied Army in the Peninsula to the
victor of Albuera was never made.

On another great controversy which (since Wellington never went off
duty for a day) was of more practical importance than that of the right
of succession, the Duke of York was partly successful in discomfiting
the Commander-in-Chief in Spain. This was a question on which there had
been much argument at the end of each Peninsular campaign, but never
so much as in 1812-13. The exceptionally heavy casualty lists of the
storming of Badajoz, the battle of Salamanca, and the retreat from
Burgos had brought a great number of units, both cavalry and infantry,
to very low figures. There were (as has been mentioned in a previous
chapter) twelve battalions which had at the end of the retreat less
than 300 bayonets effective, thirteen which had more sick than men
present with the colours. For some of these the difficulty was only
a momentary one--there was a large draft on the way to reinforce the
unit, or at least a good number of trained recruits in Great Britain
ready to be sent out. But this was not the case with all of them: the
reason of this was to be sought in the organization of the Army in
1812: the majority of infantry regiments had two battalions; if the
second unit was on home service, it regularly found drafts for the
one at the front. But if the regiment was a single-battalion corps
(and there were seven such with Wellington[340]), or if it chanced to
have both units abroad and none at home (as was the case with fifteen
other corps[341]), there was only a dépôt in Great Britain, and this
had to feed two battalions both on active service overseas, and often
could not discharge the double task effectively. There were of course
regiments so popular, or recruited with such zeal and efficiency, that
they succeeded in keeping two units abroad with adequate numbers: but
this was exceptional.

What was to be done if a Peninsular battalion had got very low in
numbers, had no sister-unit at home to feed it, and had few or no
recruits at its British dépôt ready to be sent out? This was the case
in December 1812 with twelve good old battalions of the Peninsular
Army[342]. The Duke of York maintained that since they all showed under
350 effectives present (one was as low as 149 rank and file), and
since there was no immediate prospect of working them up to even a low
battalion strength of 450 or 500 men, they must come home at once, and
take a long turn of British service, in which they could be brought up
gradually to their proper establishment. He had carried out this plan
in earlier years with some very fine but wasted battalions, such as the
29th and 97th. To replace the depleted veteran corps, there should come
out new battalions from home, recently brought up to full strength. The
same ought to be done with four or five cavalry regiments, which could
show only about 250 horses effective.

But Wellington had other views, and had begun to carry them out on his
own responsibility. He held that a well-tried battalion acclimatized
to Peninsular service was such a precious thing, and a raw battalion
such a comparatively worthless one, that it would be best to combine
the wasted units in pairs as ‘Provisional Battalions’ of 600 or 700
bayonets, each sending home the cadres of four or five companies to
its dépôt, and keeping six or five at the front. The returning cadres
would work up to full strength by degrees, and could then come out
again to join the service companies. On December 6th, 1812, he issued
orders to constitute three Provisional Battalions[343]: he intended to
carry out the same system for several more pairs of battalions[344],
and it was put into practice for the 2/31st and 2/66th as from December
20. So with the cavalry, he intended to reduce four regiments to a
two-squadron establishment, sending home the cadres of their other
squadrons to be filled up at leisure.

On January 13th the Duke of York sent out a memorandum entirely
disapproving of the system. He regretted to differ in principle from
the Commander-in-Chief in Spain, but could not possibly concur in the
arrangement. All depleted battalions for which no drafts could be
found must come home at once. ‘Experience has shown that a skeleton
battalion composed of officers, non-commissioned officers, and a
certain foundation of old and experienced soldiers can be re-formed
for any service in a short time: but if a corps reduced in numbers be
broken up by the division of its establishment, such an interruption
is occasioned in its interior economy and _esprit de corps_, that
its speedy recompletion and reorganization for foreign service is
effectually prevented. The experiment now suggested has once been
tried, and has resulted in a degree of irregularity, contention, and
indiscipline in the regiment concerned, which had made necessary the
strongest measures.’ (Many court martials, and the removal of the
whole of the officers into other battalions.) It was justly urged that
seasoned men are more valuable than men fresh from England, but for
the sake of a present and comparatively trifling advantage the general
efficiency of the whole British Army must not be impaired. All the
depleted battalions should be sent home at once[345].

Wellington was deeply vexed at this decision. He replied that orders,
if definitely given, would of course be obeyed; but if left to act on
his own responsibility, he could only say that the service in America
or Sicily or at home was not his concern, and that he was bound to
state what was best for the Peninsular Army. One old soldier who has
served two years in Spain was more effective than two, or even three,
who had not. Raw battalions fill the hospitals, straggle, maraud, and
starve. He never would part with the Provisional Battalions as long as
it was left to his discretion: and the same with cavalry. He had four
depleted cavalry regiments much under-horsed: he would like to have
the horses of the four hussar regiments which were being sent to him
from England to give to his old Peninsula troopers, rather than the
regiments themselves. But orders are orders and must be obeyed[346].

The Duke replied that for his part he had to take into consideration
not only the Peninsula but the British service all over the world.
Drafting of one corps into another was hurtful to the service and
depressed the spirits of corps: it was even deemed illegal. Though
the last person in the world to wish to diminish the Army in Spain or
cripple its general’s exertions, he was compelled to persevere in his
direction from necessity[347].

On March 13th Wellington reluctantly carried out the orders from
the Horse Guards as regards his depleted cavalry regiments: the 4th
Dragoon Guards, 9th and 11th Light Dragoons, and 2nd Hussars of the
German Legion were ordered to make over their effective horses to
other regiments, and to prepare to embark at Lisbon. A paragraph in
the General Orders expressed Wellington’s regret at losing any of his
brave old troops, and his hope that he might yet see them again at the
front[348].

As to the infantry, the Duke repeating his general precept that
depleted battalions must come home, but not giving definite orders for
them by name and number, a curious compromise took place. Wellington
sent back to England the two weakest units, which were still in April
well under 300 bayonets apiece[349]: he had already drafted a third
into the senior battalion of its own regiment, which was also in the
Peninsula. Four more of the war-worn battalions had been worked up to
about 400 of all ranks, by the return of convalescents and the arrival
of small drafts--Wellington ventured to keep them, and to report them
as efficient battalions, if small ones[350]. The challenge to Home
authority lay with the remaining six[351]: though five of them were
well under 400 strong he nevertheless stuck to his original plan and
formed three provisional battalions out of them. If the Duke of York
wanted them, he must ask for them by name: he did not, and they kept
the field till the end of the war, and were repeatedly mentioned by
Wellington as among the most efficient units that he owned. Presumably
Vittoria put his arrangements beyond criticism--at any rate, the
controversy was dropped at the Duke’s end. The net result was that
Wellington lost three depleted infantry units and four depleted
cavalry units of the old stock--about 2,000 veteran sabres and
bayonets. In return he received before or during the campaign of 1813
four new cavalry regiments--all hussars[352]--and six new infantry
battalions[353] all much stronger than the units they replaced, and
making up about 1,600 sabres and 3,000 bayonets. He would probably have
said that his real strength was not appreciably changed by getting
4,500 new hands instead of 2,000 old ones. Certainly, considering
the effort that was required from the Peninsula Army in 1813, it is
sufficiently surprising that its strength was, on balance, only four
infantry units to the good--the cavalry regiments remaining the same in
number as in 1812.

There were plenty of small administrative problems to be settled during
the winter-rest of 1812-13, which worried Wellington but need not
worry the modern student of history, being in themselves trivial. It
is well, however, to note that in the spring of 1813 his old complaint
about the impossibility of extracting hard cash from the Government,
instead of the bank-notes and bills which the Spanish and Portuguese
peasantry refused to regard as real money, came practically to an
end. By heroic exertions the Chancellor of the Exchequer was scraping
together gold enough to send £100,000 a month to Lisbon. A large sum
in pagodas had been brought all the way from Madras, and the Mint was
busy all the year in melting them down and recoining them as guineas.
It was the first time since the ‘Suspension of Cash Payments Act’ of
1797 that any gold of this size had been struck and issued. As the
whole output went straight to the Peninsula for the Army, the new coin
was generally known as the ‘military guinea.’ Considering that gold was
so much sought for in England at the time that a guinea could command
27_s._ in paper, it was no small feat to procure the Indian gold, and
to see that the much wanted commodity went abroad without diminution.
Wellington could have done with much more gold--six times as much he
once observed--but at least he was no longer in the state of absolute
bankruptcy in which he had opened the campaign of the preceding
year--nor obliged to depend for a few thousand dollars on profits to
be made on Egyptian corn which he sold in Lisbon, or impositions of
doubtful legality made upon speculators in Commissariat Bonds. The
Portuguese troops had their pay still in arrears--but that was not
Wellington’s responsibility. The muleteers of the transport train
were suffering from being paid in _vales_, which they sold to Lisbon
sharks, rather than in the _cruzados novos_ or Pillar Dollars which
they craved, and sometimes deserted in not unnatural disgust. But, at
the worst, it could not be denied that finance looked a good deal more
promising than it had in 1812[354].

There had been much reorganization since the end of the Burgos retreat.
In uniforms especially the change was greater than in any other year of
the war: this was the first campaign in which the British heavy cavalry
showed the new brass helmet, discarding the antiquated cocked hat--the
light dragoons had gone into shakos, relinquishing the black japanned
leather helmet with bearskin crest. Infantry officers for the first
time appeared in shakos resembling those of the rank and file--the
unwise custom by which they had up till now worn cocked hats, which
made them easy marks for the enemy’s snipers, being at last officially
condemned. Another much needed improvement was the substitution of
small tin camp kettles, to be carried by the men, for the large iron
Flanders cooking-pots, four to each company and carried on mules, which
had hitherto been employed. They had always been a nuisance; partly
because the mules could never be relied upon to keep up with the unit,
partly because their capacity was so large that it took much firewood
and a long space of time to cook their contents. Nothing is more common
in personal diaries of 1808-12 than complaints about rations that had
to be eaten half-cooked, or were not eaten at all, because the order to
move on arrived before the cauldrons had even begun to get warm.

A more doubtful expedient was that of putting the great-coats of the
whole of the infantry into store before the march began. Wellington
opined that the weight of coat and blanket combined was more than the
soldier could be expected to carry. One or other must be abandoned,
and after much consideration it was concluded that the blanket was more
essential. ‘Soldiers while in exercise during the day seldom wear their
great-coats, which are worn by them only at night, together with the
blanket: but as the Commander of the forces has now caused the army to
be provided with tents, the necessity for the great-coat for night use
is superseded[355].’ And tents, as a matter of fact, were provided for
the first time during this campaign. The expedient worked well enough
during the summer and autumn, when the weather was usually fine, in
spite of some spells of rainy weather in June. But in the Pyrenees,
from October onward, the tents proved inadequate protection both from
sudden hurricanes and from continuous snowfall. And bad though the
plight of men huddled in tents frozen stiff by the north wind might be,
it was nothing to that of the sentry on some mountain defile, trying
to keep a blanket round his shoulders in December blizzards. Yet the
tents, with all their defects, were a decided boon--it would have been
impossible indeed to hold the Pyrenean passes at all, if some shelter
had not been provided for the battalions of the front line. Villages
available for billeting were few and always in the hollows to the
rear, not on the crests where the line of defence lay. It would seem
that the experiment of dispensing with the great-coats was dropped,
and that they were brought round by sea to Pasages or St. Sebastian,
for personal diaries mention them as in use again, in at least some
regiments, by December. Oddly enough, there appears to be no official
record of the revocation of the order given in May.

Another innovation of the period was the introduction of a new unit
into the British Army--called (after the idiotic system of nomenclature
used at the Horse Guards) the ‘Staff Corps Cavalry.’ They were really
military mounted police, picked from the best and steadiest men in
the cavalry regiments, and placed under the command of Major Scovell,
the cypher-secretary on Wellington’s head-quarters staff, of whose
activities much has been said in the last volume. There were two troops
of them, soon raised to four, with a total strength of about 300 of all
ranks[356]. The object of the creation of the corps was to make more
effectual the restraint on marauding, and other crimes with which the
Provost-Marshal and his assistants were too few to deal. Wellington had
railed with almost exaggerated emphasis on the straggling, disorder,
and looting which had distinguished the Burgos retreat, and the Duke
of York had licensed the formation of this police-cavalry as the best
remedy for the disease. They had plenty to do after Vittoria, when
the British Army had the greatest orgy of plunder that ever fell to
its lot during the war. Wellington’s own view was that the slackness
of discipline in certain regiments, rather than privations or casual
opportunity, was the main source of all evil. But he welcomed any
machinery that would deal with the symptoms of indiscipline, even
if it did not strike at the roots of the disease. Over-leniency by
courts martial was another cause of misconduct according to his
theory--with this he strove to cope by getting from home a civilian
Judge-Advocate-General, whose task was to revise the proceedings of
such bodies, and disallow illegal proceedings and decisions. The
first and only holder of this office, Francis Larpent, has left an
interesting and not always discreet account of his busy life at
Head-Quarters, which included a strange episode of captivity in the
French lines on the Bidassoa[357].

SECTION XXXV: CHAPTER IV

THE PERPLEXITIES OF KING JOSEPH. FEBRUARY-MARCH 1813

We have seen, when dealing with the last month of 1812 and the
distribution of the French army into winter quarters, that all the
arrangements made by King Joseph, Jourdan, and Soult were settled
before any knowledge of the meaning of the Moscow Retreat had come to
hand. The famous ‘29th Bulletin’ did not reach Madrid till January
6th, 1813; this was a long delay: but the Emperor’s return to Paris on
December 16th, though he arrived at the Tuileries only thirty-six hours
after the Bulletin had come to hand, was not known to Joseph or Jourdan
till February 14th--which was a vastly longer delay. The road had been
blocked between Vittoria and Burgos for over five weeks--and couriers
and dispatches were accumulating at both these places--one set unable
to get south, the other to get north. The Minister of War at Paris
received Joseph’s dispatches of the 9th, 20th, and 24th of December all
in one delivery on January 29th[358]. The King, still more unlucky,
got the Paris dispatches of all the dates between December 18th and
January 4th on February 14th to 16th by several couriers who came
through almost simultaneously[359]. It was not till Palombini’s Italian
division--in a series of fights lasting from January 25 to February
13--had cleared away Longa and Mendizabal from the high-road between
Burgos and Vittoria, that quicker communication between those cities
became possible.

Long as it had taken in 1812 to get a letter from Paris to Madrid,
there had never been such a monstrous gap in correspondence as that
which took place in January 1813. Hence came the strange fact that
when Napoleon had returned to France, and started on his old system
of giving strategical orders for the Army of Spain once more, these
orders[360]--one on top of another--accumulated at Vittoria, and came
in one overwhelming mass, to upset all the plans which Joseph and
Jourdan had been carrying out since the New Year.

The King had received the 29th Bulletin on January 6th: he had gathered
from it that matters were going badly with the army in Russia, but had
no conception of the absolute ruin that had befallen his brother’s
host. Hence he had kept his troops spread in the wide cantonments
taken in December, and had sent Daricau’s to the province of Cuenca,
to reopen the way to Suchet at Valencia. The great convoy of Spanish
and French administrators, courtiers, and refugees, which had been left
in Suchet’s care, retraced its way to Madrid under escort of some of
Daricau’s troops in the last days of January. Meanwhile Pierre Soult’s
cavalry continued to sweep La Mancha, imposing contributions and
shooting guerrilleros, and the Army of the Centre cleared the greater
part of the country east and north of Madrid of strong parties of the
Medico’s and the Empecinado’s men. Caffarelli, as Jourdan complained,
ought to have been making more head in the North--but his dispatches
were so infrequent that his position could not be fully judged--it was
only certain that he could not keep the Burgos-Bayonne road open for
couriers.

There was only one touch during the winter with Wellington’s army,
whose cantonments, save those of the Light Division, were far back,
behind the ‘no man’s land’ which encircled the French armies. This
single contact was due to an adventurous reconnaissance by Foy, who
at his head-quarters at Avila had conceived a project for surprising
Hill’s most outlying detachment, the 50th regiment, which was billeted
at Bejar, in the passes in front of Coria. On false news that no good
look-out was being kept around Bejar, he started on the 19th February
from Piedrahita with a column of three very weak infantry battalions
and 80 horse--about 1,500 men in all, and marching day and night fell
upon the cantonments of the 50th at dawn on the morning of the 20th.
The surprise did not come off. Colonel Harrison of the 50th was a
cautious officer, who had barricaded the ruined gates of the town,
and patched its crumbling walls--He had picquets far out, and was
accustomed to keep several companies under arms from 2 o’clock till
daylight every night. Moreover Hill, thinking the position exposed,
had lately reinforced him with the 6th Caçadores, from Ashworth’s
brigade. Foy, charging in on the town in the dusk, dislodged the
outlying picquets after a sharp skirmish; but his advanced guard of 300
voltigeurs met such a storm of fire from the gate and walls, which were
fully manned, that it swerved off when 30 yards from the entrance. Foy
ordered a general retreat, since he saw the enemy ready for him, and
marched off as quickly as he had come, pursued for some distance by the
Caçadores[361]. He says in his dispatch to Reille that he only lost two
men killed and five wounded, that he could have carried the town had he
pleased, and that he only retired because he was warned that the 71st
and 92nd, the other regiments of Cadogan’s brigade, were marching up
from Baños, seven miles away[362]. This those may believe who please:
it is certain that he made off the moment that he saw that his surprise
had failed, and that he was committed to an attack on a barricaded
town. Hill expected more raids of this sort, but the attempt was never
repeated.

It was on the 14th of February, five days before Foy’s adventure,
that King Joseph received his first Paris mail. Its portentous and
appalling contents were far worse than anything that he had expected.
The most illuminating item was a letter from Colonel Desprez, his
aide-de-camp, who had made the Moscow retreat, and was able to give
him the whole truth concerning Russia. ‘We lost prisoners by the tens
of thousands--but, however many the prisoners, the dead are many more.
Every nightly bivouac left hundreds of frozen corpses behind. The
situation may be summed up by saying that the army is _dead_. The Young
Guard, to which I was attached, quitted Moscow 8,000 strong; there
were 400 left at Wilna. All the other corps have suffered on the same
scale; I am convinced that not 20,000 men recrossed the Vistula. If
your Majesty asks me where the retreat will stop, I can only reply that
the Russians will settle that point. I cannot think that the Prussians
will resist: the King and his ministers are favourably disposed--not
so the people--riots are breaking out in Berlin: crossing Prussia I
had evidence that we can hardly count on these allies. And it seems
that in the Austrian army the officers are making public demonstrations
against continuing the war. This is a sad picture--but I think there is
no exaggeration in it. On returning to Paris and thinking all over in
cold blood, my judgement on the situation is as gloomy as it was at the
theatre of war[363].’

Napoleon had spent several days at the Tuileries, busy with grandiose
schemes for the organization of a new _Grande Armée_, to replace that
which he had sacrificed in Russia, and with financial and diplomatic
problems of absorbing interest, before he found a moment in which to
dictate to Clarke his orders for the King of Spain. The note was very
short and full of reticences[364]: it left much unsaid that had to be
supplied by the recipient’s intelligence. ‘The King must have received
by now the 29th Bulletin, which would show him the state of affairs in
the North; they were absorbing the Emperor’s care and attention. Things
being as they were, he ought to move his head-quarters to Valladolid,
holding Madrid only as the extreme point of occupation of his southern
wing. He should turn his attention to the pacification of Biscay and
Navarre while the English were inactive. Soult had been sent orders to
come back to France--as the King had repeatedly requested; his Army
of the South might be given over to Marshal Jourdan or to Gazan.’ If
Joseph had owned no independent sources of information such a statement
would have left him much in the dark, both as to the actual state of
the Emperor’s resources, and as to his intentions with regard to Spain.
The Emperor did not say that he had lost his army and must create
another, nor did he intimate how far he intended to give up his Spanish
venture. But the order to draw back to Valladolid and hold Madrid
lightly, could only be interpreted as a warning that there would be no
more reinforcements available for Spain, so that the area of occupation
would have to be contracted.

The recall of Soult was what Joseph had eagerly petitioned for in 1812,
when he had come upon the curious letter in which the Marshal accused
him before the Emperor of treason to the French cause[365]. But the
Marshal was not brought home in disgrace; rather he was sent for in the
hour of danger, as one who could be useful to the new _Grande Armée_.
It must have been irritating to the King to know, from a passage in the
already-cited letter of Colonel Desprez, that Napoleon had called the
Duke of Dalmatia ‘the only military brain in the Peninsula’, that he
stigmatized the King’s denunciations of him as _des pauvretés_ to which
he attached no importance, and that he had added that half the generals
in Spain had shared Soult’s suspicions. The Marshal left, in triumph
rather than in disgrace, with a large staff and escort, and a long
train of _fourgons_ carrying his Andalusian plunder, more especially
his splendid gallery of Murillos robbed from Seville churches[366].

Dated one day later than the Emperor’s first rough notes, we find
the formal dispatch from the war-minister Clarke, which made things
a little clearer. Setting forth his master’s ideas in a more verbose
style, Clarke explained that the affairs of Spain must be subordinated
to those of the North. The move to Valladolid would make communication
with Paris shorter and safer, and provide a larger force to hold down
Northern Spain. Caffarelli was not strong enough both to hunt down the
guerrilleros and at the same time to provide garrisons on the great
roads and the coast. The King would have to lend him a hand in the task.

There were other dispatches for Joseph and Jourdan dated on the 4th
of January, but only one more of importance: this was an order for
wholesale drafts to be made from the Army of Spain, for the benefit
of the new Army of Germany. But large as they were, the limited
scale of them showed that the Emperor had not the least intention of
surrendering his hold on the Peninsula, or of drawing back to the line
of the Ebro or the Pyrenees, as Lord Liverpool had expected[367]. All
the six Armies of Spain--those of the North, Portugal, the Centre, the
South, Aragon, and Catalonia--were to continue in existence, and the
total number of men to be drawn from any one of them did not amount to
a fourth of its numbers. There were still to be 200,000 men left in the
Peninsula.

The first demand was for twenty-five picked men from each battalion
of infantry or regiment of cavalry, and ten from each battery of
artillery, to reconstitute the Imperial Guard, reduced practically
to nothing in Russia. Putting aside foreign regiments (Italian,
Neapolitan, German, Swiss) there were some 220 French battalions in
Spain in January 1813, and some 35 regiments of cavalry. The call was
therefore for 5,500 bayonets and 875 sabres--no great amount from an
army which had 260,000 men on its rolls, and 212,000 actually under the
colours.

But this was only a commencement. It was more important that the Armies
of the South and Catalonia were to contribute a large number of cadres
to the new _Grande Armée_. Those of Portugal, Aragon, the Centre, and
the North were at first less in question, because their regiments were,
on the average, not so strong as those of the other two. The Army of
the South was specially affected, because its units were (and always
had been) very large regiments. In 1812 Soult’s infantry corps nearly
all had three battalions--a few four. Similarly with the cavalry,
many regiments had four squadrons, none less than three. The edict of
January 4th ordered that each infantry regiment should send back to
France the full cadre of officers and non-commissioned officers for one
battalion, with a skeleton cadre of men, cutting down the number of
battalions present with the eagle by one, and drafting the surplus rank
and file of the subtracted battalion into those remaining in Spain. The
cadre was roughly calculated out to 120 of all ranks. When, therefore,
the system was applied to the Army of the South, it was cut down from
57 battalions to 36 in its 19 regiments[368]. The 21 cadres took off to
France 2,500 officers and men. Similarly 15 cavalry regiments, in 50
squadrons, were to send 12 squadron-cadres to France, some 600 sabres.

The small Army of Catalonia was to contribute a battalion-cadre
from each of those of its regiments which had three or more
battalions--which would give six more cadres for Germany.

The Armies of Portugal, Aragon, and the Centre were mainly composed
of regiments having only two battalions--they were therefore for the
present left comparatively untouched. The first named was only ordered
to give up one battalion-cadre, the second two, the third three (all
from Palombini’s Italian division). Of cavalry the Army of Portugal
only gave up one squadron-cadre, the Army of the Centre three.

In addition, the small number of foreign auxiliary troops still left
in Spain were ordered back to France, save the remnant of Palombini’s
and Severoli’s Italians and the Rheinbund units[369] in the Army of
the Centre, viz. the 7th Polish Lancers (the last regiment of troops
of this nationality left south of the Pyrenees), the Westphalian horse
in the Army of the Centre, and the Berg and Westphalian infantry in
Catalonia. Moreover, the brigade of the Young Guard in the Army of the
North (that of Dumoustier) and the three naval battalions from Cadiz,
which had served so long in the Army of the South, were to come home,
also four batteries of French horse-artillery and two of Westphalian
field artillery. Lastly, cadres being as necessary for the military
train as for any other branch of the service, all the armies were
to send home every dismounted man of this corps. The same rule was
applied to the _Équipages militaires_ and the Artillery Park. This
whole deduction from the Army of Spain under these heads came to nearly
12,000 soldiers of all arms, over and above these cadres.

There was an elaborate clause as to reorganizing the Army of the
North: in return for giving up four provisional regiments of drafts to
the Armies of Portugal and the South, it was to get three regiments
made over to it from the former, and one from the latter. Napoleon
calculated that it would lose nothing in numbers from the exchange,
but as a matter of fact it did. The drafts to be returned to their
proper corps ran to over 8,000 men. But General Reille, being told to
contribute three regiments to the Army of the North, selected the three
depleted units which had composed Thomières’ unlucky division at the
battle of Salamanca (the 1st, 62nd, and 101st), which together did
not make up 3,000 bayonets[370], though Gazan chose to make over the
64th, a three-battalion regiment with 1,600 men. The Army of the North,
therefore, lost nearly 3,000 men on the balance of the exchange, though
the Emperor was aware that it was already too weak for the task set it.
But he probably considered that Palombini’s Italians, detached (as we
have already seen[371]) from the Army of the Centre, would make up the
difference.

In addition to the squadron-cadres which he requisitioned on January
4th, the Emperor had a further intention of bringing back to Central
Europe some complete units of heavy cavalry, to furnish the host now
collecting in Germany with the horsemen in which it was so notoriously
deficient. The whole of the dragoon-division of Boyer in the Army of
Portugal is marked in the March returns with _ordre de rentrer en
France_; so are several dragoon regiments in the Army of the South. But
as a matter of fact hardly one of them had started for the Pyrenees
by May[372], so that both in the Army of Portugal and the Army of the
South the cavalry total was only a few hundreds smaller at the time of
the opening of the campaign of Vittoria than it had been at the New
Year--the shrinkage amounting to no more than the squadron-cadres and
the few men for the Imperial Guard.

The Emperor’s intentions, therefore, as they became known to King
Joseph and Jourdan on February 16th, left the three armies opposed to
Wellington some 15,000 men smaller than they had been at the time of
the Burgos retreat; but this was a very modest deduction considering
their size, and still kept nearly 100,000 men in Castile and Leon, over
and above the Army of the North, which might be considered as tied
down to its own duty of suppressing the rising in Biscay and Navarre,
and incapable of sparing any help to its neighbours. When we reflect
on the scale of the Russian disaster, the demand made upon the Army of
Spain seems very moderate. But there were two ominous doubts. Would
the Emperor be content with his original requisitions in men and horses
from the armies of Spain? And what exactly did he mean by the phrase
that the King would have to lend _appui et secours_ to the Army of
the North, for the destruction of the rebels beyond the Ebro? If this
signified the distraction of any large body of men from the forces left
opposed to Wellington, the situation would be uncomfortable. Both these
doubts soon developed into sinister certainties.

On receiving the Emperor’s original orders King Joseph hastened to
obey, though the removal of his court from Madrid to Valladolid looked
to him like the abandonment of his pose as King of Spain. He ordered
Soult’s successor, Gazan, to evacuate La Mancha, and to draw back to
the neighbourhood of Madrid, leaving a small detachment of light troops
about Toledo. The Army of the South also took over the province of
Avila from the Army of Portugal, and it was intended that it should
soon relieve the Army of the Centre in the province of Segovia. For
Joseph had made up his mind that any help which he must give against
the northern rebels should be furnished by D’Erlon’s little army, which
he would stretch out from Segovia towards Burgos and the Ebro[373], and
so take Mina and the insurgents of Navarre in the rear. Early in March
all these movements were in progress, and (as we have seen in the last
chapter) were beginning to be reported to Wellington, who made many
deductions from them. Joseph himself transferred his head-quarters to
Valladolid on March 23rd, by which time the greater part of the other
changes had been carried out. The Emperor afterwards criticized his
brother’s delay of a whole month between the receipt of his orders to
decamp and his actual arrival at Valladolid. To this Jourdan made the
reply that it was useless to move the head-quarters till the drawing
in of the Army of the South had been completed, and that the bringing
in of such outlying units as Daricau’s division from the province of
Cuenca, and the transference of the Army of the Centre northward, took
much time[374]. Evacuations cannot be carried out at a day’s notice,
when they involve the moving of magazines and the calling in of a civil
administration.

On March 12th, while all the movements were in progress, another batch
of orders from Paris came to hand. They contained details which upset
the arrangements which the King was carrying out, for the Emperor
decided that the succour which was to be given to the Army of the North
was to be drawn from Reille’s Army, and not from D’Erlon’s, so that a
new series of counter-marches would have to be carried out. And--what
was more ominous for the future--Napoleon had dropped once more into
his old habit of sending orders directly to subordinate generals,
without passing them through the head-quarters of the Army of Spain.
For Clarke, in his dispatch of February 3rd, informed the King that
the Emperor had sent Reille directions to detach a division to Navarre
at once, ‘a disposition which cannot conflict with any orders which
your Majesty may give to the Army of Portugal, for the common end of
reducing to submission the provinces of the North[375].’ Unfortunately
this was precisely what such an order did accomplish, for Joseph had
sent D’Erlon in the direction to which he now found that Reille had
simultaneously detached Barbot’s division of the Army of Portugal,
without any knowledge that D’Erlon had already been detailed for the
job.

The Emperor was falling back into the practice by which he had in the
preceding year ruined Marmont--the issuing of detailed orders for the
movement of troops, based on information a month old, it being certain
that the execution of these orders would take place an additional three
weeks after they had been formulated. As we shall presently see, the
initial successes of Wellington in his Vittoria campaign were entirely
due to the position in which the Army of Portugal had placed itself, in
obedience to Napoleon’s direct instructions.

Meanwhile Clarke’s dispatch of February 2nd, conveying these orders,
arrived at the same moment as two others dated ten days later[376],
which were most unpleasant reading. The first contained an absolutely
insulting message to the King from his brother: ‘his Imperial Majesty
bids me say,’ wrote Clarke, ‘with regard to the money for which
you have asked in several recent letters, that all funds necessary
for the armies of Spain could have been got out of the rich and
fertile provinces which are being devastated by the insurgent bands.
By employing the activity and vigour needed to establish order and
tranquillity, the resources which they still possess can be utilized.
This is an additional motive for inducing your Majesty to put an end
to this war in the interior, which troubles peaceful inhabitants,
ruins the countryside, exhausts your armies, and deprives them of
the resources which they could enjoy if these fine regions were in a
peaceful state. Aragon and Navarre are to-day under Mina’s law, and
maintain this disastrous struggle with their food and money. It is time
to put an end to this state of affairs.’

Written apparently a few hours later than the dispatch quoted above
came another[377], setting forth the policy which was to be the ruin
of the French cause in Spain three months later. It is composed of a
series of wild miscalculations. When the head-quarters of the Army of
Spain should have been moved to Valladolid, it would be possible to
send the whole Army of Portugal to help the Army of the North beyond
the Ebro. ‘The Armies of the Centre and South, occupying Salamanca and
Valladolid, have sufficient strength to keep the English in check,
while waiting on events. Madrid and even Valencia are of secondary
importance. Valladolid and Salamanca have become the essential points,
between which there should be distributed forces ready to take the
offensive against the English, and to wreck their plans. The Emperor
is informed that they have been reinforced in Portugal, and that they
seem to have two alternative schemes--either to make a push into Spain,
or to send out from the port of Lisbon an expedition of 25,000 men,
partly English, partly Spanish, which is to land somewhere on the
French coast, when the campaign shall have begun in Germany. To prevent
them engaging in this expedition, you must always be in a position to
march forward and to threaten to overrun Portugal and take Lisbon. At
the same time you must make the communications with France safe and
easy, by using the time of the English inactivity to subdue Biscay and
Navarre.... If the French armies in Spain remain idle, and permit the
English to send expeditions against our coast, the tranquillity of
France will be compromised, and the ruin of our cause in Spain will
infallibly follow.’

A supplementary letter to Jourdan of the same day recapitulates all the
above points, adding that the Army of Portugal must send to Clausel,
now Caffarelli’s successor in the North, as many troops as are needed
there, but that the King at the same time must menace Portugal, so that
Wellington shall not be able to detach men from his Peninsular Army.

The fundamental error in all this is that, underrating Wellington’s
strength, Napoleon judged that the Armies of the South and Centre
could keep him in check. They were at this moment under 60,000 of
all arms: if the Army of Portugal were out of the way, they were
absolutely insufficient for the task set them. As to their menacing
Lisbon, Wellington would have liked nothing better than an advance by
them into Portugal, where he would have outnumbered them hopelessly.
The hypothesis that Wellington was about to send 25,000 men by sea for
a landing inside the French Empire, on which Napoleon lays so much
stress, seems to have been formed on erroneous information from French
spies in London, who had heard the rumour that a raid on Holland or
Hanover was likely, or perhaps even one aimed at La Vendée. For the
royalist _émigrés_ in England had certainly been talking of such a
plan, and pressing it upon Lord Liverpool, as the dispatches of the
latter to Wellington show[378]. The Emperor did not know that all such
schemes would be scouted by the British Commander in Spain, and that he
now possessed influence enough with the Cabinet to stop them.

It would appear that the Emperor’s intelligence from England misled him
in other ways: he was duly informed of the departure from Lisbon of the
depleted cavalry and infantry units, about which Wellington disputed
so much with the Duke of York, and the deduction drawn was that the
Peninsular Army was being decreased. The exaggerated impression of the
losses in the Burgos retreat, which could be gathered from the Whig
newspapers, led to an underrating of the strength that the British Army
would have in the spring. Traitors from Cadiz wrote to Madrid that the
friction between the Regency and Wellington was so great, that it was
doubtful whether the new Generalissimo would have any real control
over the Spanish armies. And the sickness in both the British and the
Portuguese armies--bad as it was--was exaggerated by spies, so wildly
that the Emperor was under the delusion that Wellington could not count
on more than 30,000 British or 20,000 Portuguese troops in the coming
campaign. It may be worth while to quote at this point the official
view at Paris of the British army in Portugal, though the words were
written some time later, and only just before the news of Wellington’s
sudden advance on the Douro had come to hand:

‘In the position in which the enemy found himself there was no reason
to fear that he would take the offensive: his remoteness, his lack of
transport, his constant and timid caution in all operations out of the
ordinary line, all announced that we had complete liberty to act as
suited us best, without worry or inconvenience. I may add that the ill
feeling between English and Spaniards, the voyage of Lord Wellington
to Cadiz, the changes in his army, of which many regiments have been
sent back to England, were all favourable circumstances allowing us to
carry out fearlessly every movement that the Emperor’s orders might
dictate[379].’

It is only necessary to observe that Wellington was not more remote
from the French than they were from him: that he had excellent
transport--far better than his enemies ever enjoyed: that timid caution
was hardly the policy which stormed Badajoz or won Salamanca: that his
rapid and triumphant offensive was just starting when the Minister of
War wrote the egregious paragraph which we have just cited. Persistent
undervaluing of the resources and energy of Wellington by Head-quarters
at Paris--i.e. by the Emperor when present, by the Minister of War in
his absence--was at the roots of the impending disaster.

Leaving the King newly established at Valladolid, the Army of the South
redistributing itself between Madrid and the Douro, the Army of the
Centre turning back from its projected march to Burgos in order to
reoccupy the province of Segovia, and the Army of Portugal beginning to
draw off from in front of Wellington troops to be sent to the North,
we must turn for a moment to explain the crisis in Navarre and Biscay
which was engrossing so much of Napoleon’s attention.

SECTION XXXV: CHAPTER V

THE NORTHERN INSURRECTION. FEBRUARY-MAY 1813

It has been explained in an earlier chapter that ever since General
Caffarelli concentrated all the available troops of the Army of
the North, in order to join Souham in driving away Wellington from
the siege of Burgos, the three Basque provinces, Navarre, and the
coast-land of Santander had been out of hand[380]. The outward
and visible sign of that fact was the intermittent stoppage of
communication between Bayonne and Madrid, which had so much irritated
Napoleon on his return from Russia. It was undoubtedly a just cause
of anger that important dispatches should be hung up at Tolosa,
or Vittoria, or Burgos, because the bands of Mina or Mendizabal
or Longa were holding the defile of Salinas--the grave of so many
convoy-escorts--or the pass of Pancorbo. It had been calculated in
1811 that it might often require a small column of 250 men to bring an
imperial courier safely through either of those perilous narrows. But
in the winter of 1812-13 things had grown far worse. ‘The insurgents
of Guipuzcoa, Navarre, and Aragon,’ as Clarke wrote to Jourdan with
perfect truth[381], ‘have had six months to organize and train
themselves: their progress has been prodigious: they have formed many
formidable corps, which no longer fear to face our troops when numbers
are equal. They have called in the English, and receive every day arms,
munitions, and even cannon on the coast. They have actually begun
to conduct regular sieges.’ Yet it was three months and more since
the King had sent back Caffarelli and the field-force of the Army of
the North from Valladolid, to restore order in the regions which had
slipped out of hand during the great concentration of the French armies
in November.

If it be asked why the North had become so far more unquiet than it
had been in previous years, the answer must be that the cause was
moral and not material. It was not merely that many small places had
been evacuated for a time by the French during the Burgos campaign,
nor that the British fleet was throwing in arms and supplies at
Castro-Urdiales or Santander. The important thing was that for the
first time since 1808 the whole people had got a glimpse of hope:
the French had been driven out of Madrid; they had evacuated Biscay;
Old Castile and Leon had been in the power of Wellington for several
months. It was true that Madrid had been recovered, that Wellington
had been forced to retreat. But it was well known that the general
result of the campaign of 1812 had been to free all Southern Spain,
and that the French had been on the verge of ruin in the early
autumn. The prestige of the Imperial armies had received at Salamanca
a blow from which it never recovered. Wherefore the insurgents of
the North put forth during the winter of 1812-13 an energy such as
they had never before displayed, and the French generals gradually
discovered that they had no longer to do with mere guerrillero bands,
half-armed, half-fed wanderers in the hills, recruited only from the
desperate and the reckless, but with a whole people in arms. When
Caffarelli returned from Burgos, he found that the Spanish authorities
had re-established themselves in every town which had been left
ungarrisoned, that taxes and requisitions were being levied in a
regular fashion, and that new regiments were being formed and trained
in Biscay and Guipuzcoa. The nominal Spanish commander in this region
was Mendizabal, theoretically Chief of the ‘Seventh Army’--but he was
an officer of little resource and no authority. The real fighting man
was Longa, originally a guerrillero chief, but now gazetted a colonel
in the regular army. He was a gunsmith from the Rioja, a very resolute
and persistent man, who had taken to the hills early, and had outlived
most of his rivals and colleagues--a clear instance of the ‘survival
of the fittest.’ His useful co-operation with Sir Home Popham in the
last autumn has been mentioned above: his band, now reorganized as
four infantry battalions, was raised from the mountaineers of the
province of Santander and the region of the upper Ebro. His usual
beat lay between the sea and Burgos, and he was as frequently to be
found on the Cantabrian coast as at the defile of Pancorbo, where the
great Bayonne _chaussée_ crosses from the watershed of the Ebro to
that of the Douro. His force never much exceeded 3,000 men, but they
were tough material--great marchers and (as they proved when serving
under Wellington) very staunch fighters on their own ground. West of
Longa’s hunting grounds were those of Porlier, in the Eastern Asturias:
the star of the ‘Marquesito,’ as he was called, had paled somewhat
of late, as the reputation of Longa had increased. He had never had
again such a stroke of luck as his celebrated surprise of Santander in
1811[382], and the long French occupation of the Asturias in the days
of Bonnet had worn down his band to little over 2,000 men. At this
moment he was mainly engaged, under the nominal command of Mendizabal,
in keeping Santoña blockaded. To besiege it in form he had neither
enough men nor a battering train: but if driven away once and again by
Caffarelli, he never allowed himself to be caught, and was back again
to stop the roads, the moment that the relieving column had marched
off. In Biscay the leading spirit was Jauregui (El Pastor), another
old ally of Sir Home Popham, but in addition to his band there was now
on foot a new organization of a more regular sort, three Biscayan and
three Guipuzcoan battalions, who had received arms from the English
cruisers. They held all the interior of the country, had fortified the
old citadel of Castro-Urdiales on the coast, with guns lent them from
the fleet, and co-operated with Mendizabal and Longa whenever occasion
offered. They had held Bilbao for a time in the autumn, but were
chased out of it when Caffarelli returned from Burgos. In January they
made another attempt upon it, but were repulsed by General Rouget, in
command of the garrison.

Between the fields of operation of the Biscayans and Longa and that
of the Navarrese insurgents, there was the line of the great Bayonne
_chaussée_, held by a series of French garrisons at Tolosa, Bergara,
Mondragon, Vittoria, Miranda del Ebro, and the castle of Pancorbo.
This line of fortified places was a sore hindrance to the Spaniards,
but on many occasions they crossed it. Mina’s raiding battalions from
Navarre were frequently seen in the Basque provinces. And they had
made communication between one garrison and another so dangerous that
the post-commanders often refused to risk men on escorts between one
place and the next, and had long ceased to attempt requisitions on
the countryside. They were fed by convoys pushed up the high road,
with heavy forces to guard them, at infrequent intervals. In Navarre,
as has been already explained, Mina held the whole countryside, and
had set up an orderly form of government. He had at the most 8,000
or 9,000 men, but they spread everywhere, sometimes operating in one
column, sometimes in many, seldom to be caught when sought after,
and capable of turning on any rash pursuing force and overwhelming
it, if its strength was seen to be over-small. Mina’s sphere of
action extended far into Aragon, as far as Huesca, so that he was as
much a plague to Paris, the Governor of Saragossa, as to Thouvenot,
Governor of Vittoria, or Abbé, Governor of Pampeluna. His strategical
purpose, if we may ascribe such a thing to one who was, after all,
but a guerrillero of special talent and energy, was to break the line
of communication down the Ebro from Miranda to Saragossa, the route
by which the King and the Army of the North kept up their touch with
Suchet’s troops in Aragon. It was a tempting objective, since all down
the river there were French garrisons at short distances in Haro,
Logroño, Viana, Calahorra, Milagro, Tudela, and other places, none of
them very large, and each capable of being isolated, and attacked for
some days, before the Governor of Navarre could come to its aid with a
strong relieving column. And there were other garrisons, such as those
at Tafalla and Huesca, covering outlying road-centres, which were far
from succour and liable to surprise-attacks at any moment.

Nor was Mina destitute of the power to call in help for one of his
greater raids--he sometimes shifted towards the coast, and got in touch
with the Guipuzcoans and Biscayans, while he had also communication
with Duran, south of the Ebro. This officer who was theoretically a
division-commander in the Valencian Army, was really the leader of a
band of four or five thousand irregulars, who hung about the mountains
of Soria, and kept the roads from Madrid to Saragossa and the Ebro
blocked. And Duran was again in touch with the Empecinado, whose
beat lay on the east side of New Castile, and whose main object was
to molest the French garrisons of Guadalajara, Segovia, and Alcalá.
Temporary combinations of formidable strength could be made, when
several of these irregular forces joined for a common raid: but the
chiefs generally worked apart, each disliking to move very far from
his own district, where he was acquainted with the roads and the
inhabitants. For in a country of chaotic sierras, like Northern Spain,
local knowledge was all-important: to be aware of exactly what paths
and passes were practicable in January snow, or what torrents were
fordable in March rain, was the advantage which the guerrillero had
over his enemy. It is probable that in March or April 1813 the total
force of all the insurgent bands was no greater than that of the French
garrisons and movable columns with which they had to contend. But
the Army of the North was forced to tie down the larger half of its
strength to holding strategical points and long lines of communication,
while the guerrilleros could evacuate one whole region for weeks at a
time, in order to mass in another. They could be unexpectedly strong
in one district, yet lose nothing by temporary abandonment of another.
They were admirably served for intelligence, since the whole population
was by goodwill or by fear at their service: the French could only
depend on _afrancesados_ for information, and these were timid and
few; they grew fewer as Mina gradually discovered and hanged traitors.
When the French columns had gone by, it was easily to be guessed who
had guided them or given them news--and such people perished, or had
to migrate to the nearest garrison. But local knowledge was the real
strength of the guerrilleros: a French column-commander, guiding
his steps from the abominable maps of Lopez--the atlas which was
universally used for want of a better--was always finding his enemy
escape by a path unindicated on the map, or appear in his rear over
some unknown cross-road, which could not have been suspected to exist.
Hence the local Spanish traitor was absolutely necessary as a guide,
and often he could not be found--treachery having been discovered to
be a path that led inevitably to the gallows. The Army of the North
had acquired, from old and painful experience of counter-marches,
some general knowledge of the cross-roads between the Ebro and the
Pyrenees. But when troops from a distance--sections of the Bayonne
Reserve, or reinforcements from the Army of Portugal--were turned on to
the game of guerrillero-hunting, they found themselves very helpless.
As a rule, the most promising march ended in finding the lair still
warm, but the quarry invisible.

Napoleon and his mouthpiece, the War Minister Clarke, refused to the
end, as Marshal Marmont remarked[383], to see that the War of Spain
was unlike any other war that the French armies had waged since 1792.
The nearest parallels to it were the fighting in Switzerland in 1798
and against Hofer’s Tyrolese in 1809. But both of these earlier
insurrectionary wars had been fought on a very limited area, against
an enemy of no great numerical strength, practically unhelped from
without. In Spain the distances were very great, the mountains--if less
high than the Alps--were almost as tiresome, for in the Alps there were
vast tracts completely inaccessible to both sides, but the Sierras,
if rugged, are less lofty and better furnished with goat-tracks and
smugglers’ by-ways, where the heavily laden infantryman cannot follow
the evasive mountaineer. Moreover, the English cruisers continued to
drop in the arms and munitions without which the insurgents could not
have kept the field.

There can be no doubt that Napoleon undervalued the power of the
Spanish guerrilleros, just as he undervalued the resources and the
enterprise of Wellington. From the first moment of his return from
Russia he had continued to impress on Joseph and Jourdan the necessity
for pacifying the North, before the season for regular campaigning
should have arrived, and Wellington should have taken the field. But
his theory that the winter was the best time for dealing with the
bands was rather specious than correct. For although the short days,
the snow in the passes, and the swollen torrents were, no doubt,
great hindrances to that freedom of movement which was the main
strength of the guerrilleros, they were even greater hindrances to
combined operations by bodies of regular troops. Rapid marches are
impossible off the high roads in Northern Spain, during the midwinter
months; and it was only by combined operations and the use of large
forces that the insurgents could be dealt with. Indeed, the country
roads were practically impassable for any regular troops in many
regions. What officer would risk detachments in upland valleys that
might be found to be blocked with snow, or cut off from their usual
communication by furious streams that had overflowed the roads and made
fords impracticable? Winter marches in unexplored hills are the most
deadly expedients: all the weakly soldiers fall by the way--had not
Drouet lost 150 men in passing the Guadarrama during the early days
of December--and the Guadarrama was crossed by one of the few great
royal roads of Spain? What would be the losses of columns sent out on
cross-roads and caught in blizzards, or in those weeks of continuous
rain which are not uncommon in the sub-Pyrenean region?

The Emperor’s view was that Caffarelli had failed in his task from want
of resourcefulness. He was always trying to parry blows rather than to
strike himself: he allowed the insurgents to take the initiative, and
when they had executed some tiresome raid would set out in a pursuit
which was seldom useful, since they naturally outran him[384]. He was
always marching to deliver or revictual some threatened garrison,
anywhere between Santoña and Pampeluna, instead of setting himself to
destroy the main agglomeration of hostile forces. Now Caffarelli, it is
true, was no great general, and may have been on occasion wanting in
vigour. But the best reply to the criticism of him sent from Paris is
to observe that his successor, Clausel, universally acknowledged to be
the most active officer in Spain, failed in exactly the same way as his
predecessor, even when he had been lent 20,000 veteran troops to aid
him in his task.

Napoleon wanted a great general movement _pour balayer tout le Nord_.
He granted that Caffarelli had not enough troops both to furnish
garrisons for every important point, and to hunt down the guerrilleros
with a large field-force. Therefore he ordered Reille to furnish
Caffarelli’s successor with every man that he asked for. If necessary,
the whole Army of Portugal might be requisitioned, since those of the
South and Centre would be enough to keep Wellington in check. The
letter of instructions which Clarke was directed to give to Clausel,
when the latter took up his appointment, explains the Emperor’s views.
‘By a continual taking of the offensive it ought to be possible to
reach a prompt and happy result. The moment that the reinforcements
to be furnished by General Reille arrive (and possibly they have
already put themselves at your disposition) in Navarre and Biscay, I
am convinced that your usual activity will change the face of affairs.
Rapid pursuits, well directed, and above all properly adapted to the
topographical configuration of the district; raids made without warning
on the insurgents’ dépôts of provisions, their hospitals, their stores
of arms, and in general on all their magazines, will infallibly carry
confusion into their operations. After you have had some successful
engagements with them, it will only require politic measures to
complete their disorganization. When you have scattered their juntas,
all the young men they have enrolled by compulsion will melt home. If
you leave them no rest, and surprise them in their remotest places of
refuge, the matter should end by their going wholly to pieces.... As
to the keeping open your communication with France, one particular
device, to whose utility all the generals who have served in that
region bear witness, is to establish at regular distances and in well
chosen positions, especially where roads meet, small palisaded forts,
or blockhouses, which will form a chain of posts and support each
other. Owing to the wooded nature of the country they will not cost
much to build--the estimate for such a system of blockhouses has been
calculated to me at no more than 300,000 francs.

‘Santoña and Pampeluna must be held--the latter because its capture is
Mina’s main ambition, the former because it is a terror to the English,
who recently tried to have it besieged: General Caffarelli had to lead
an expedition to relieve it. Pampeluna is the more important for the
moment: when a division of the Army of Portugal reaches Navarre you
ought to be able to make Mina change his tone. Santoña can wait--it may
be reprovisioned by sea from the small ports of Biscay. As General
Caffarelli has inconsiderately evacuated most of them, you should
reoccupy them all, especially Bermeo and Castro-Urdiales. The latter is
said to have been fortified with the help of the English. For the sake
of the safety of Santoña all these places must be retaken at once: from
the mouth of the Bidassoa to Santander every maritime position should
be in French hands. Santander especially is, by the Emperor’s express
orders, to be permanently occupied by an adequate garrison.

‘It is necessary that all these operations should be carried out
simultaneously. The pursuit of Mina in Navarre should synchronize
with the operations in Biscay. The insurgents should be hunted in the
inland, at the same time that they are attacked on the coast. This is
the only way to disorganize them, to make them weak and divided at
all points.... It seems preferable to use every available man for a
general simultaneous attack, than to undertake each necessary operation
in succession, with a smaller force and more leisure--all the more so
because the reinforcements, which are to co-operate in your scheme, may
be called elsewhere by some unforeseen development of affairs[385].’

Clausel, in obedience to his instructions, tried to carry out the
whole of this scheme, and had small luck therewith. He built the
chain of blockhouses from Irun to Burgos, thereby tying up many
battalions to sedentary duty. He hunted Mina right and left, drove the
insurrectionary Junta of Biscay from its abode, occupied all the little
ports from Santander to San Sebastian, stormed the well-fortified
Castro-Urdiales, revictualled Pampeluna and Santoña, and at the end
of three months had to report that his task was unfinished, that the
insurrection was still unsubdued, and that although he had borrowed
20,000 infantry from the Army of Portugal, he must ask for another
20,000 men [where were they to be got?] in order to finish the
campaign. And by this time--the end of May--Wellington was loose, and
the King was falling back on the Ebro, vainly calling for the five
divisions that his brother had made over to the Army of the North.
But we must resume the chronicle of the Northern campaign, before
commenting on its inadequate and unhappy conclusion.

The operations may be said to have begun in January, when Palombini’s
Italian division marched from Old Castile to join the Army of the
North, in order to replace Dumoustier’s brigade of the Young Guard,
which was being recalled to France. After crossing the Guadarrama
Pass in a blizzard, which cost some lives, they got to Burgos on the
28th, driving away the Cura Merino and his band, who had been blocking
the road from Valladolid. From Burgos Palombini marched to Vittoria,
escorting a convoy of drafts returning to France, couriers, officials,
and convalescents. There he heard that Longa and Mendizabal had cut in
behind him, and had again stopped communications. Wherefore he turned
back, and swept the Bureba, where they were reported to be. Not finding
them, he marched as far as Poza de la Sal, not far from Briviesca, but
some leagues off the great _chaussée_. In this town his head-quarters
were fixed, while the bulk of his division was sent out in flying
columns to collect food. He had only 500 men with him, when on the
night of February 10-11 he found himself surrounded by three Spanish
columns, which had slipped through the intervals of the outlying
Italian regiments, and ran in on the town from different quarters. The
surprise, contrived by Longa, was complete; but Palombini, collecting
his men in a clump, held out till daylight, when his battalions
came flocking in to the sound of the musketry and relieved him. The
Spaniards disappeared, taking with them some baggage and prisoners
captured in the first rush, and were soon lost to sight in the
mountains.

The Italians, lucky to have escaped so cheaply, marched back to the
Ebro by way of Domingo Calzada, where there was a French garrison in
imminent danger of starvation, as it had long been blockaded by local
bands[386]. Palombini took it on with him, and blew up the castle, as
the place was inconveniently remote from any other French post. He
then returned to Vittoria by way of Haro (February 18) and next pushed
on to Bilbao, where he relieved Dumoustier’s brigade of the Imperial
Guard, which was at last able to obey the Emperor’s order to return to
France (February 21). Caffarelli used this force as his escort back
to Bayonne, and returned in some disgrace to Paris. Clausel assumed
command in his stead on the next day.

Pampeluna had been declared by the new commander’s letter of
instructions to be the place of which he should be most careful. But
seeing no chance of visiting and relieving it till his reinforcements
from the Army of Portugal should have come up, Clausel, while waiting
for their arrival, came to Bilbao, where he began to make preparations
for the siege of Castro-Urdiales, by far the most important, for the
moment, of the ports along the coast which the Emperor had commended to
him for destruction.

Meanwhile the Biscayan insurgents collected opposite Bilbao, on the
Eastern side, and Mendizabal brought up Longa’s troops and some of
the smaller bands to threaten it from the West. The idea was to give
Clausel so much trouble about his head-quarters that he would be
unable to march away against Castro. The days slipped by, and farther
East Mina was more active than ever in Navarre. He had at last become
the happy possessor of two siege guns, landed at Deba on the Biscay
coast, and dragged by incredible exertions across mountain paths to the
farthest inland. When they came to hand he set to work to beleaguer
the French garrison of Tafalla, an outlying place, but less than
thirty miles from Pampeluna. This was a challenge to General Abbé,
the Governor of Navarre: a force which has dug trenches and brought
up heavy guns is obviously asking for a fight, and not intending to
abscond. Abbé marched with 3,000 infantry and 150 chasseurs to raise
the siege, and found Mina with four of his battalions and his regiment
of cavalry drawn up across the high road, in a mountain position at
Tiebas, ten miles north of Tafalla. After a hard day’s fighting,
Abbé failed to break through, and had to fall back on Pampeluna[387]
(February 9). The news of his repulse disheartened the garrison, whose
walls were crumbling under the fire of Mina’s heavy guns, and they
surrendered on February 11th to the number of 11 officers and 317
men--the post-commander and many others had been killed during the
siege.

This success of Mina’s meant nothing less than that the whole open
country of Navarre was at his mercy, since Abbé had been beaten in the
field; wherefore Clausel hastened to dispatch the first reinforcements
from the Army of Portugal which reached him--Barbot’s division--to
this quarter. But the affair created less excitement than an exploit
of reckless courage carried out by one of Mina’s detachments in the
following month. The old castle of Fuenterrabia commands the passage of
the Bidassoa, and looks across its estuary into France: on March 11 it
was surprised by escalade by a handful of guerrilleros, the garrison
taken prisoner, the guns thrown into the water, and the whole building
destroyed by fire. The flames were visible far into France--troops
hurried up from Irun and Hendaye, but of course found the guerrilleros
gone[388].

This exploit was rather spectacular than harmful to the French--quite
otherwise was the last event of the month of March. Barbot’s division,
on entering Navarre, was directed to help Abbé to clear the country
between Pampeluna and the Ebro. Having reached Lodosa on March
30, Barbot sent out two battalions to raise requisitions in the
neighbouring town of Lerin. The place was being sacked, when the
scattered French were suddenly attacked by two of Mina’s battalions,
while two more and 200 Navarrese lancers cut in between the enemy and
Lodosa. The French, thoroughly surprised, lost heavily in the first
shock, but rallied and started to cut their way back to their division,
only eight miles away. In a running fight they were much mauled, and
finally had to form square to receive the cavalry. In this inconvenient
formation they were forced to a long musketry fight with the Navarrese,
which so shook the square that it finally broke when Mina’s lancers
charged. The two battalions were annihilated, 28 officers and 635 men
taken prisoners--the rest cut down. Gaudin, the colonel commanding
the detachment, escaped with a few mounted officers[389]. The
extraordinary part of the affair was that its last crisis took place at
only two miles from Lodosa, where Barbot was lying with his remaining
six battalions. The French general never stirred, but only put himself
in a posture of defence, thereby provoking Mina’s surprise[390], for
he could have saved the column by going out to its help. After the
disaster he retired to Pampeluna, with a division reduced to little
over 3,000 men. But not long after Taupin’s division of the Army of
Portugal also entered Navarre, and joined Abbé. This gave the latter a
very heavy force--at least 13,000 men, and when Clausel had finished
his own operations in the direction of Bilbao, and marched from Biscay
to encircle Mina on one side, while Abbé was to hold him on the other,
the great guerrillero was in grave danger. But this was only in late
April and May, and before the chronicle of these weeks is reached we
have to turn back westward for a space.

Napoleon’s orders had told Clausel to attack at all points at once,
and to lose no time in setting to work. But it was quite clear that
no general synchronized move could be made, until the divisions
borrowed from Reille had all arrived. What active operations meant,
before the reinforcements had come up, had been sufficiently proved
by Abbé’s defeat at Tiebas: and Clausel’s own doings in March were
equally discouraging, if not so disastrous. He had resolved to carry
out one of the Emperor’s urgent orders by capturing Castro-Urdiales,
the touching-place of British cruisers and the one fortified port which
the Allies possessed on the Biscay coast. Undervaluing its strength, he
marched out on March 21 with the bulk of Palombini’s Italian division
and a single French battalion, intending to take it by escalade.
For he had been told that its ancient walls had been indifferently
repaired, and were almost without guns. When, however, he had reached
the neighbourhood of Castro on the 22nd, he had to own on inspection
that the enterprise would be hopeless--his commanding engineer, the
historian Vacani[391]--maintained that it would take 6,000 men and a
siege train of at least six heavy guns to deal with the place. And,
as subsequent events showed, this was quite true. Castro is built on
a rocky spit projecting into the sea, with a stout wall 20 feet high
drawn across the isthmus which joins the headland to the coast. The
narrow front of this wall, from water to water, had been well repaired;
there were some 20 guns mounted, and an old castle on the extreme
sea-ward point of the spit served as a citadel or inner fortification.
Mendizabal and his lieutenant, Campillo, had come down from the
interior with three or four thousand men, and were visible on the
flank, ready to fall upon the Italian column if it should approach the
town, through the labyrinth of vineyards and stone fences which covered
its outskirts.

Clausel, always venturesome, was inclined at first to go on with his
enterprise, when news reached him that Bilbao, which he had left rather
weakly garrisoned, was threatened by the guerrillero Jauregui, and
the battalions of the volunteers of Biscay and Guipuzcoa. He returned
hastily to his head-quarters with his French battalion, but found that
the danger had been exaggerated for the moment, so sent out General
Rouget with two battalions to join Palombini, who had meanwhile on the
24th fought a severe action with Mendizabal. The Spaniard had tried
to surround him in his camp at San Pelayo, with several outflanking
columns--the Italian sallied out and drove him off with loss--but
suffered himself no less[392]. Clausel, on reaching the front, came
to the conclusion that Castro must not be attacked without heavy guns
and a larger field-force. He directed Palombini to burn the ladders,
fascines, &c., prepared for the assault, and to go off instead to raise
the blockade of Santoña, while he himself returned to Bilbao. The
Italian division therefore marched westward on Colindres, on the other
side of the bay on which Santoña stands, thrusting aside the Spanish
blockading forces, and communicated with the governor, General Lameth.
A supply of small arms and ammunition, money, and food was thrown into
the place. On the other hand, Lameth was ordered to get six heavy guns
on shipboard, and to be prepared to run them down the coast, when next
a French force should appear in front of Castro-Urdiales, along with a
provision of round shot, shells, and entrenching tools. Lameth got the
siege material ready, but was not asked for it till another full month
had gone by, for Clausel had other business pressed upon him.

Palombini thereupon turned back, and regained Bilbao in three forced
marches, unmolested by the Spaniards, for they had gone off in the
direction of Balmaseda, not expecting him to return so quickly. He
had only been in Bilbao for two days when Clausel sent him out again,
eastward this time and not westward, with two of his regiments, for
a surprise attack on Guernica, the head-quarters of the Biscayan
insurgents and the seat of their Junta. A French column of two
battalions of the 40th Line from Durango was to co-operate and to
assail the enemy in the rear. This expedition was quite in consonance
with Napoleon’s orders to strike at the enemy’s central dépôts in front
and rear by unexpected raids. But it also showed the difficulty of
carrying out such plans. Palombini reached Guernica, driving before him
bands which gave way, but were always growing stronger: behind Guernica
they made a stand--the French flanking column failed to appear--having
found troubles of its own--and Palombini was repulsed and forced to
cut his way back out of the hills. He reported his loss as only 80
men--but it was probably somewhat more[393] (April 2). Having picked up
the stray French column, and replenished his ammunition from Bilbao,
Palombini, with a laudable perseverance, attacked the Guernica position
again on April 5, and this time forced it. Thence pushing east, he
tried to drive the enemy before him along the coast road, on which, in
the neighbourhood of St. Sebastian, a brigade from the Bayonne reserve
had been set to block their flight. But the Biscayans and El Pastor
evaded him and slipped south into the hills: the Guipuzcoan battalions,
instinctively falling back on their own province, were in more danger.
But warned in time that the coast road was stopped, some of them took
refuge in the boats of English warships at Lequeytio and Motrico, and
were shipped off to Castro-Urdiales in safety, while others simply
dispersed. No prisoners were taken, but Palombini captured the petty
magazines of the Guipuzcoans at Aspeytia and Azcoytia, and thinking
that the insurrection was scotched returned to the Bayonne _chaussée_
at Bergara (April 9).

So far was this from ending the campaign, that while Palombini was
devastating Guipuzcoa, the Biscayans and El Pastor had concerted a new
attack on Bilbao with Longa and Mendizabal, who had been left with
no containing force in front of them when the enemy had retired from
before Castro-Urdiales.

Clausel had gone off from Bilbao on March 30, with a large escort,
to join at Vittoria the newly arrived divisions of the Army of
Portugal, those of Taupin and Foy, and was set on organizing a new
attack on Mina. In the absence of both the Commander-in-Chief and of
Palombini, Bilbao was very weakly garrisoned--not more than 2,000 men
were left to General Rouget to defend a rather extensive system of
outworks. On April 10th the Spaniards attacked him on both sides of
the Nervion river, and would probably have broken into Bilbao but for
the incapacity of Mendizabal, whose main body did not come up in time
to assist the attack of the Biscayans on the other bank of the river.
Rouget was still holding out when Palombini came to his rescue from
Bergara via Durango, in two forced marches. The Spaniards thereupon
dispersed, after their usual fashion, Mendizabal disappearing to
the east, the Biscayans falling back on their old head-quarters at
Guernica. Palombini was strong at the moment, having been joined by the
brigade from Bayonne, under General Aussenac, which had been blocking
the coast road. He therefore tried to surround the Biscayans with
converging columns--but when he thought that he had cut them off from
the inland, and was about to drive them into the water, the bulk of
them were picked up at Bermeo by English cruisers, and landed farther
down the coast. Only some baggage and a store of munitions fell into
the pursuer’s hands (April 14).

On this, Palombini, ‘convinced,’ says his admiring chronicler Vacani,
‘of the uselessness of trying to envelop or destroy local bands among
mountains which they knew too well, when he could only dispose of
columns of a few battalions for the pursuit,’ resolved to halt at
Bilbao, and prepare for the siege of Castro. He put the brigade from
Bayonne in charge of the high road to San Sebastian, and waited for
the arrival of Foy from Vittoria. For he had been informed that this
general, with his division of the Army of Portugal, was to be detailed
to help him in the subjection of Biscay. Meanwhile April was half over,
the insurgents had been often hunted but never caught, and Wellington
might be expected to be on the move any morning: it was strange that he
had not been heard of already.

Leaving Biscay to Palombini and Foy, Clausel had collected at Vittoria
one of his own divisions, hitherto scattered in small detachments, but
relieved by the reinforcements sent him from the Army of Portugal.
For beside the four divisions lent for active service, he had taken
over the whole Province of Burgos, to which Reille had sent the
division of Lamartinière. With his own newly-collected division, under
Vandermaesen, and Taupin’s of the Army of Portugal, Clausel set out for
Navarre on April 11th, to combine his operations with those of Abbé and
to hunt down Mina. As he had already sent forward to the Governor of
Navarre the division of Barbot, there was now a field-force of 20,000
men available for the chase, without taking into consideration the
troops tied down in garrisons. This was more than double the strength
that Mina could command, and the next month was one of severe trial for
the great guerrillero.

Clausel’s first idea was to catch Mina by a sweeping movement of all
his four divisions, which he collected at Puente la Reyna in the valley
of the Arga (April 24). Mina answered this move by dispersion, and
his battalions escaped through intervals in the cordon with no great
loss, and cut up more than once small detachments of their pursuers.
Clausel perceiving that this system was useless, then tried another,
one of those recommended by the Emperor in his letter of instruction of
March 9, viz. a resolute stroke at the enemy’s magazines and dépôts.
Mina kept his hospitals, some rough munition factories which he had
set up, and his store of provisions, in the remote Pyrenean valley
of Roncal, where Navarre and Aragon meet: it was most inaccessible
and far from any high road. Nevertheless Clausel marched upon it with
the divisions of Abbé, Vandermaesen, and Barbot, leaving Taupin alone
at Estella to contain Western Navarre. He calculated that Mina would
be forced to concentrate and fight, in order to save his stores and
arsenal, and that so he might be destroyed. He was partly correct in
his hypothesis--but only partly. Mina left four of his battalions in
Western Navarre, in the valleys of the Amescoas, to worry Taupin, and
hurried with the remaining five to cover the Roncal. There was heavy
fighting in the passes leading to it on May 12 and 13, which ended in
the Navarrese being beaten and dispersed with the loss of a thousand
men. Clausel captured and destroyed the factories and magazines,
and made prisoners of the sick in the hospitals, whom he treated
with unexpected humanity. Some of the broken battalions fled south
by Sanguesa into lower Navarre, others eastward into Aragon. Among
these last was Mina himself with a small party of cavalry--he tried
to fetch a compass round the pursuing French and to return to his own
country, but he was twice headed off, and finally forced to fly far
into Eastern Aragon, as far as Barbastro. This region was practically
open to him for flight, for the French garrison of Saragossa was too
weak to cover the whole country, or to stop possible bolt-holes. Mina
was therefore able to rally part of his men there, and called in the
help of scattered _partidas_. Clausel swept all North-Western Aragon
with his three divisions, making arrests and destroying villages which
had harboured the insurgents. But he did not wish to pursue Mina to the
borders of Catalonia, where he would have been quite out of his own
beat, and inconveniently remote from Pampeluna and Vittoria.

But meanwhile the division which he had left under Taupin in Navarre
was having much trouble with Mina’s four battalions in the Amescoas,
and parties drifting back from the rout in the Roncal vexed the
northern bank of the Ebro, while Longa and Mendizabal, abandoning
their old positions in front of Bilbao, had descended on to the
Bayonne _chaussée_, and executed many raids upon it, from the pass
of Salinas above Vittoria as far as the Ebro (April 25-May 10). The
communications between Bayonne and Burgos were once more cut, and the
situation grew so bad that Lamartinière’s division of the Army of
Portugal had to be moved eastward, to clear the road from Burgos to
Miranda, Sarrut’s to do the same between Miranda and Bilbao, while
Maucune detached a brigade to relieve Lamartinière at Burgos. Of the
whole Army of Portugal there was left on May 20th only one single
infantry brigade at Palencia which was still at Reille’s disposition.
Five and a half divisions had been lent to Clausel, and were dispersed
in the north. And Wellington was now just about to move! The worst
thing of all for the French cause was that the communications of the
North were as bad in May as they had been in January: after Clausel had
taken off the main field-army to the Roncal, and had led it from thence
far into Aragon, the roads behind him were absolutely useless. Only on
the line Bayonne-Vittoria, where the new blockhouses were beginning to
arise, was any regular passing to and fro possible. Clausel himself was
absolutely lost to sight, so far as King Joseph was concerned--it took
a fortnight or twenty days to get a dispatch through to him.

Meanwhile, before turning to the great campaign of Wellington on
the Douro, it is necessary to dispose of the chronicle of affairs
in Biscay. Foy and his division, as we have seen, had marched from
Vittoria to Bilbao and reached the latter place on April 21st[394]. On
the way they had nearly caught Mendizabal at Orduña, where he chanced
to be present with a guard of only 200 men; but, warned just in time,
he had the luck to escape, and went back to pick up his subordinates
Longa and Campillo nearer the coast.

Soon after Foy’s arrival at Bilbao he was joined by Sarrut’s division
of the Army of Portugal, which had followed him from Vittoria. He had
therefore, counting Palombini’s Italians, the brigade of Aussenac, and
the regular garrison of Bilbao, at least 16,000 men--ample for the task
that Clausel had commended to him, the capture of Castro-Urdiales,
with its patched-up mediaeval wall. The only thing presenting any
difficulty was getting a siege train to this remote headland: Lameth,
the Governor of Santoña, as it will be remembered, had been ordered to
provide one, and there were four heavy guns in Bilbao:--the roads on
both sides, however, were impracticable, and the artillery had to come
by water, running the chance of falling in with British cruisers.

On April 25th Foy marched out of Bilbao with his own, Sarrut’s, and
Palombini’s divisions, more than 11,000 men,[395] leaving Aussenac on
the Deba, to guard the road from San Sebastian, and Rouget in garrison
as usual. On the same evening he reached the environs of Castro, and
left Palombini there to shut in the place, while he went on himself
to look for Mendizabal, who was known to be watching affairs from the
hills, and to be blocking the road to Santoña, as he had so often
done before. Foy then moved on to Cerdigo where he established his
head-quarters for the siege, on a strong position between the sea and
the river Agaera. Mendizabal was reputed to be holding the line of
the Ason, ten miles farther on, but in weak force: he had only the
_partidas_ of Campillo and Herrero with him, Longa being absent in
the direction of Vittoria. On the 29th Foy drove off these bands at
Ampuero, and communicated with Santoña, into which he introduced a
drove of 500 oxen and other victuals. The governor Lameth was ordered
to ship the siege train that he had collected to Islares, under
the camp at Cerdigo, on the first day when he should find the bay
clear--for three English sloops, the _Lyra_, _Royalist_, and _Sparrow_,
under Captain Bloye, were lying off Castro and watching the coast. Foy
then established Sarrut’s division to cover the siege at Trucios, and
sent two Italian battalions to Portugalete to guard the road to Bilbao,
keeping his own division and the three other Italian battalions for the
actual trench work. The heavy guns were the difficulty--those expected
from Bilbao were stopped at the mouth of the Nervion by the English
squadron, which was watching for them--but in the absence of the sloops
on this quest, the governor of Santoña succeeded in running his convoy
across the bay on May 4th. The guns from Bilbao were afterwards brought
up by land, with much toil.

Foy then commenced three batteries on the high slopes which dominate
the town: two were completed on the 6th, despite much long-distance
fire from the British ships, and from a heavy gun which Captain Bloye
had mounted on the rocky islet of Santa Anna outside the harbour. On
the 7th fire was begun from two batteries against the mediaeval curtain
wall, but was ineffective--one battery was silenced by the British. On
the 10th, however, the third battery--much closer in--was ready, and
opened with devastating results on the 11th, two hours’ fire making a
breach 30 feet wide and destroying a large convent behind it.

The Governor, Pedro Alvarez, one of Longa’s colonels, had a garrison
of no more than 1,000 men--all like himself from Longa’s regiments of
Iberia; he made a resolute defence, kept up a continuous counter-fire,
and prepared to hold the breach. But it was obvious that the old wall
was no protection from modern artillery, and that Foy could blow down
as much of it as he pleased at leisure. On the afternoon of the 11th
part of the civil population went on board the British ships: the
governor made preparations for holding the castle, on the seaside of
the town projecting into the water, as a last stronghold: but it was
only protected by the steepness of the rock on which it stood--its
walls were ruined and worthless. Late in the day the British took
off the heavy gun which they had placed on the islet--it could not
have been removed after the town had fallen, and the fall was clearly
inevitable.

Foy, seeing the curtain-wall continuing to crumble, and a 60-foot
breach established, resolved to storm that night, and sent in at
7.20 three columns composed of eight French and eight Italian flank
companies for the assault--the former to the breach, the latter
to try to escalade a low angle near the Bilbao gate. Both attacks
succeeded, despite a heavy but ill-aimed fire from the defenders,
and the Spaniards were driven through the town and into the castle,
where they maintained themselves. Alvarez had made preparations for
evacuation--while two companies held the steep steps which were the
only way up to the castle, the rest of the garrison embarked at its
back on the boats of the British squadron. Some were killed in the
water by the French fire, some drowned, but the large majority got off.
By three in the morning there were only 100 men left in the castle:
Alvarez had detailed them to throw the guns into the sea, and to fire
the magazines, both of which duties they accomplished, before the early
dawn. When, by means of ladders, the French made their way into an
embrasure of the defences, some of this desperate band were killed. But
it is surprising to hear that most of them got away by boat from the
small jetty at the back of the castle. They probably owed their escape
to the fact that the stormers had spent the night in riotous atrocities
vying with those of Badajoz on a small scale. Instead of finishing off
their job by taking the castle, they had spent the night in rape and
plunder in the town[396].

The Spaniards declared that the total loss of their garrison was only
100 men, and the statement is borne out by the dispatch of Captain
Bloye of the _Lyra_. Foy wrote to Clausel that the whole business had
only cost him fifty men. The two statements seem equally improbable,
for the siege had lasted for six days of open trenches, and both sides
had fought with great resolution[397].

But the really important thing to note about this little affair is
that it absorbed three French divisions for sixteen days in the most
critical month of 1813. Eleven thousand men were tied down in a remote
corner of Biscay, before a patched-up mediaeval wall, while Longa was
running riot in Alava and breaking the line of communication with
France--and (what is more important) while Wellington’s columns were
silently gliding into place for the great stroke on the Douro. Colonel
Alvarez could boast that his thousand men had served a very useful and
honourable end during the great campaign. He and they were landed by
Captain Bloye at Bermeo, and went off over the hills to join Longa: the
majority of them must have been present at the battle of Vittoria,
some six weeks after their escape by sea.

Having discharged the first duty set him by Clausel, Foy left the
Italians at Castro, to guard the coast and keep up communications
with Santoña. He sent Sarrut southward to hunt for Longa, by way
of Orduña; but the Spaniard crossed the Ebro and moved into the
province of Burgos, evading pursuit. Then, finding that Lamartinière’s
division was guarding the great road in this direction, he turned off
north-westward, and escaped by Espinosa to the mountains of Santander.
Sarrut, having lost him, turned back to Biscay.

Meanwhile Foy himself, after retiring to Bilbao to give a few days of
rest to his division, started out again on May 27th for a circular
tour in Biscay. His object was to destroy the three Biscayan volunteer
battalions which had given his predecessor so much trouble. Two he
dispersed, but could not destroy, and they ultimately got together
again in somewhat diminished numbers. The third was more unlucky:
caught between three converging columns near Lequeytio, it was driven
against the seashore and nearly annihilated--360 men were taken, 200
killed, only two companies got off into the hills (May 30th). But to
achieve this result Foy had collected three brigades--5,000 men--who
would have been better employed that day on the Esla, for Wellington
was crossing that river at the moment--and where were the infantry of
the Army of Portugal, who should have stood in his way?

So while the British Army was streaming by tens of thousands into the
undefended plains of Leon, Foy and Sarrut were guerrillero-hunting in
Biscay, and Taupin and Barbot had just failed in the great chase after
Mina in Aragon and Navarre. Such were the results of the Emperor’s
orders for the pacification of the North.

[Illustration: Battle of CASTALLA April 13 1813]

SECTION XXXV: CHAPTER VI

AN EPISODE ON THE EAST COAST. CASTALLA, APRIL 1813

During the winter months, from November to February, affairs had been
quiet on the Mediterranean side of the Peninsula. The transient sojourn
of the Armies of Soult and King Joseph in the kingdom of Valencia,
which had so much troubled the mind of General Maitland, had lasted no
more than a few weeks. After they had marched off to retake Madrid, no
traces remained of them, in the end of October, save the mass of sick,
convalescents, and Spanish refugees which they had left behind--guests
most undesired--in charge of Suchet. There was no longer any fear
of a siege of Alicante, or of the expulsion of the Anglo-Sicilian
expeditionary corps from Spain.

When the shadow of this fear had passed, the Allied forces resumed
something like their old position. The Anglo-Sicilians had passed
under many commanders since the autumn: Maitland had resigned owing to
ill-health before October 1st: he was succeeded for six weeks by John
Mackenzie, the senior Major-General at Alicante, who was superseded
about November 20th by William Clinton (brother of Henry Clinton of
the 6th Division). But Clinton was only in charge of the expeditionary
force for twelve days, being out-ranked by James Campbell,
Adjutant-General of the Army of Sicily, who turned up with a large body
of reinforcements on December 2nd. Campbell, however, only bore rule
at Alicante for a period of three months, giving place to Sir John
Murray on February 25th. It was therefore on the last-named officer
that the stress of co-operating with Wellington in the campaign of 1813
was to fall. The unlucky man was quite unequal to the position, being
singularly infirm of purpose and liable to lose his head at critical
moments, as he had shown at Oporto on May 12th, 1809[398]. It is
surprising that Wellington, knowing his record, should have acquiesced
in the appointment--perhaps he thought that here at least was a
general who would take no risks, and have no dangerous inspirations of
initiative.

The strength of the Alicante army had risen by January 1813 to
something like 14,000 men, but it remained (as it had been from the
first) a most heterogeneous force, consisting in the early spring of
1813 of six British[399], three German[400], and two foreign battalions
belonging to the regular forces of the Crown[401], with four Italian
units[402] of various sorts. The cavalry consisted of one British and
one Sicilian regiment and an odd squadron of ‘Foreign Hussars.’ The
artillery was partly British, partly Sicilian, and partly Portuguese.
In addition to these troops the commander at Alicante had complete
control over General Whittingham’s ‘Majorcan division,’ a Spanish corps
which had been reorganized in the Balearic Islands by that officer, and
which had been clothed, armed, and paid from the British subsidy. It
consisted of six infantry battalions and two weak cavalry regiments,
and was in the spring about 4,500 strong. They were rightly esteemed
the best Spanish troops on the Eastern front, and justified their
reputation in the subsequent campaign. There was a second Spanish
division in the neighbourhood, that of General Roche, which, like
Whittingham’s, had been taken on to the British subsidy, and re-clothed
and re-armed. But this unit was not reckoned part of the Alicante
force, but belonged theoretically to Elio’s Murcian army, in which
it was numbered as the 4th Division. It counted only five battalions
and was at this time not more than 3,500 strong. But though it was
registered as part of the Army of Murcia, it often acted with Murray’s
Anglo-Sicilian troops, being cantoned alongside of them in the Alicante
region. When Wellington became Generalissimo of the Spanish armies,
he not infrequently gave orders to Roche to join Murray rather than
Elio--apparently conceiving that the fact that the division lived on
the British subsidy had placed it on a somewhat different footing from
the rest of the Murcians.

If we count Whittingham and Roche as attached to the Expeditionary
Army at Alicante, the strength of that heterogeneous host would have
been rather over 21,000 men--a total perceptibly greater than Suchet’s
field-force encamped over against it on the Xucar. And in addition
there lay close behind, within the borders of the kingdom of Murcia,
Elio and his ‘Second Army,’ which, even after deducting Roche’s
division, was a considerable accumulation of troops. But the Murcian
army’s record was more unhappy than that of any other Spanish unit, and
it had been dashed to pieces once more in the preceding July, at the
discreditable battle of Castalla. Though it nominally counted 30,000
men in its six divisions, only three of them were available[403],
for two were really no more than the old guerrillero bands of the
Empecinado and Duran, who hung about in Southern Aragon, and shifted
for themselves. They were both remote and disorganized. Since Roche’s
division was also often out of Elio’s control, he really had no more
than 13,000 infantry and 2,000 horse in hand.

There were facing Suchet, of allied troops of one sort and another,
some 35,000 men, a fact which the Marshal never ceased to utilize in
his correspondence with Madrid, when he wished to excuse himself from
lending aid to his neighbours. But the Murcian army had still not
recovered from the demoralization caused by the battle of Castalla, and
the Alicante army was suffering from two evils which reduced its value
as a campaigning force to a very low level. The first was a terrible
deficiency of transport. When Lord William Bentinck sent out the
first expeditionary force from Sicily, he intended it to equip itself
with mules, horses, and carts in Spain. But in the summer of 1812 the
Kingdom of Murcia was the only unoccupied region on the east side of
the Peninsula, and all its not too copious resources were wanted for
its own army. Successive captains-general refused, not unnaturally, to
help Maitland or Murray in the task of collecting sumpter-beasts, and
suggested that they ought to draw both animals and food from Sicily.
Food was indeed procured from thence, and even from Algeria and the
Levant, so that the army did not starve. But there was insufficient
means to move that food from the water’s edge. A certain number of
mules were collected by paying very heavy hire--not at all to the
gratification of the Spanish authorities, who wanted them for their
own use. But they were so few that the Army could make no long general
marches, and could count on little more than what the men carried in
their haversacks. The best that could be done was to move it forward
from the immediate neighbourhood of Alicante, so that it could live
upon the resources of the inland, where there were many fertile and
well-peopled valleys. The main object, indeed, of James Campbell’s
forward move was to get food for Whittingham’s and Roche’s divisions,
which were (though paid by the British subsidy) dependent for their
rations on the Spanish Government, and seldom received them. Local
food for these troops had to be sought, as the only possible means
of keeping them alive. In February the line of occupation reached
as far as Biar, Castalla, and Xixona, all held by Whittingham’s
division, while Roche and the Anglo-Sicilians were mostly in second
line, at Elda, Monforte, and Alicante. But the problem of making the
Anglo-Sicilian army a mobile force was not much further advanced in
March 1813 than it had been in October 1812.

The second weak point of the Alicante army was the extremely doubtful
quality of some of its foreign elements. It is true that the German
Legion battalions were as steady as those of the same corps in
Wellington’s own army. But all the others were crammed with deserters
from the enemy’s ranks, or prisoners of war who had enlisted in
order to escape the miseries of the prison-camp or the hulks. The
‘Calabrese Free Corps’ was a trifle better than the rest, being mostly
composed of genuine exiles. But the only difference between the recent
recruits of Dillon’s cosmopolitan regiment in the British service
and of the ‘Italian Levy’ and ‘Estero regiment’ was that the former
corps contained more French and Swiss deserters, and the latter pair
more Italians. All had the usual sprinkling of Poles, Dutch, Croats,
and other miscellaneous adventurers. A lurid light was thrown upon
their possibilities on February 11th, when 86 men of the 2nd Italian
Levy deserted to the French lines, bringing over their officer as a
prisoner. It was discovered that the rest of the battalion were in
a plot to betray Xixona to Suchet, and with it one of Whittingham’s
Spanish regiments, which was encamped beside them. There was just time
to march in the 1 /27th and a second Spanish battalion, who surrounded
and disarmed the Italians, before a French column appeared at dawn. It
directed itself to the quarters from which the traitors had just been
drawn off, was surprised to be received with a heavy fire, and rapidly
withdrew [404]. Such an incident was certainly not calculated to
inspire a timid general, like Sir John Murray, with any great craving
for a bold offensive.

On the other hand, Murray had a formidable force on paper, and when
Suchet reflected that there lay close behind him, first Elio’s army
in Murcia--at least 13,000 men without counting the Empecinado’s and
Duran’s bands--and farther back Del Parque’s Andalusian ‘3rd Army,’
which had also some 13,000 effectives, he could not but see that 50,000
men might march against his comparatively weak force in Valencia at
any moment. His strength on the Xucar was very modest--not much over
15,000 bayonets and sabres: for though he had 60,000 men of all arms
effective, and 75,000 on his rolls, including sick and detached, yet
such a force was not enough to control the whole of the ancient lands
of the Aragonese crown--Aragon Proper, Catalonia, and Valencia. He
was in possession of all of them save the Catalan inland, where the
‘First Army’ still maintained itself, the extreme southern region of
the Valencian kingdom round Alicante, and the mountains between Aragon
and Castile, which were the hunting ground of the guerrilleros of
Duran and the Empecinado. The garrison was small for such a widespread
occupation, and the only thing that made the Marshal’s position
tolerable was the fact that (unlike Catalonia) Aragon and Valencia had
shown themselves very ‘quiet’ regions. Suchet’s rule had been severe,
but at least orderly; there had been little of the casual plunder and
requisitioning which made French rule detested under other commanders.
The coast-plain of Valencia and the broad stretch of the Ebro valley
in Central Aragon were districts less suitable for the operations of
guerrilleros than almost any other part of Spain. On the Valencian
frontier there was only one active _partida_, that of the ‘Fraile’
(Agostin Nebot), whose welcome gift of 60 captured French transport
mules to the Alicante army is acknowledged in one of Wellington’s
dispatches. It is true that the sub-Pyrenean parts of Aragon were
exposed to Mina’s raids, and that the solid block of sierras round
Molina and Albaracin was always the refuge of Duran and Villacampa, but
these were not essential regions for the maintenance of the hold on
the Mediterranean coast. With the exception of these tracts the land
was fairly quiet: there was a general submission to the French yoke,
and an appreciable proportion of _afrancesados_. The blow inflicted
on public opinion by the fall of Valencia in January 1812 was still
a recent thing. Wellington’s army had been heard of, but never seen;
and the operations of the Alicante expeditionary force had hitherto
served to depress rather than to encourage insurrection. Hence it was
possible that 35,000 men could hold the broad lands that lay between
Tudela and Saragossa and Lerida on the North, and Denia and Xativa on
the South--though Decaen’s 28,000 had a much more precarious grip on
Catalonia. But the occupation was a _tour de force_ after all, and
was liable to be upset at any moment by an active and capable enemy.
Fortunately for Suchet his opponent on the East Coast during the spring
of 1813 was neither active nor capable.

As long as King Joseph kept his head-quarters at Madrid and occupied
the province of La Mancha, extending his line eastward to San Clemente,
he had been in touch with Suchet’s front, and communications were open.
Indeed Daricau’s division marched to the borders of Valencia in the end
of January, and took over from the Marshal the large body of Spanish
refugees and convalescents of the Army of the South, who had been under
his charge since October. But the whole situation was changed when the
orders of the Emperor compelled Joseph to draw back his head-quarters
to Valladolid, and to hold Toledo as his extreme post towards the
South. When this change was made, the touch between Valencia and Madrid
was lost--the Spanish cavalry of the Army of Andalusia advanced across
the Sierra Morena into La Mancha: Villacampa’s division descended from
the hills to occupy the more level parts of the province of Cuenca. For
the future the King and Suchet could only keep touch with each other
by the circuitous route through Saragossa. The situation of the French
Army of Valencia was rendered far more isolated and dangerous--it was
in a very advanced position, with no communication whatever with any
friendly force save through Aragon. And its inland flank was exposed
to all manner of possible molestation--if Villacampa, Duran, and the
Empecinado had represented a serious fighting force, capable of regular
action in the field, Suchet would have been bound to retire at once to
the line of the Ebro, on pain of finding himself surrounded and cut
off. But these irregular ‘divisions’ of the Army of Murcia were, as
a matter of fact, good for raids and the cutting of communications,
but useless for battle. They were local in their operations, seldom
combined, and only obeyed their nominal commander, Elio, when it
pleased them. It was very hard for any one of them to move far from its
accustomed ‘beat,’ because they had no magazines, and lived each on
their own region.

Suchet accordingly resolved to try the hazardous experiment of
preserving his old positions, even when communication with Madrid had
been cut off. He left on his inland flank only a flying brigade or
two, and the normal garrisons of the small fortified towns of upper
Aragon, and kept his main striking force still concentrated on the
line of the Xucar, in order to cover the plain of Valencia from the
one serious enemy, the Alicante army. The available troops consisted
of the three small infantry divisions of Habert, Harispe, and Musnier
(this last temporarily under Robert), and the cavalry division of
Boussard, the whole amounting to about 12,500 foot and 1,500 horse,
or a gross total of all arms of some 15,000 men. They were disposed
so as to cover the front of 50 miles from Moxente, at the foot of the
Murcian mountains, to the mouth of the Xucar, and were not scattered
in small parties, but concentrated in four groups which could easily
unite. The right wing was covered by an entrenched camp at Moxente, the
centre by another at San Felipe de Xativa. Denia on the sea-coast was
held as a cover to the left wing. Cavalry was out in front, and in a
rather exposed position a brigade of Habert’s division held Alcoy, a
considerable town in a fertile upland valley, whose resources Suchet
was anxious to retain as long as possible.

Soon after he had taken over command at Alicante on February 25th,
Murray obtained accurate local information as to the exact distribution
and numbers of the French, and noting the very exposed position of
the brigade at Alcoy, made an attempt to cut it off by the concentric
advance of four columns. The scheme failed, partly because of the late
arrival of the right-hand column (a brigade of Whittingham’s division),
partly because Murray, having got engaged with the French in front,
refused to support his advanced troops until the flanking detachments
should appear, and so allowed the enemy to slip away (March 6th)[405].
He then halted, though his movement must obviously have roused Suchet’s
attention, and rendered a counter-attack possible. But after a week,
finding the enemy still passive, he sent forward Whittingham to drive
the French outposts from Consentaina, and the pass of Albeyda, in the
mountain range which separates the valley of Alcoy from the lowland.
This was to ask for trouble, and should only have been done if Murray
was proposing to challenge Suchet to a decisive general action:
Whittingham indeed thought that this was the object of his commanding
officer[406]. At the same time two British battalions under General
Donkin made a demonstration against the French right, ten miles farther
east, in the direction of Onteniente. Habert, whose whole division was
holding the line of hills, gave way after a sharp skirmish, and allowed
Whittingham to seize the pass of Albeyda (March 15th). Every one
supposed that the Alicante army was now about to attack the French main
position between Moxente and Xativa.

But Murray’s plan was different: having, as he supposed, attracted
Suchet’s full notice, by his forward movement, he was proposing to
send out an expedition by sea, to make a dash at the town of Valencia,
which (as he calculated) must be under-garrisoned when heavy fighting
was expected on the Xucar. He told off for the purpose Roche’s
Spanish division, strengthened by the British provisional battalion
of grenadier companies and a regiment borrowed from Elio. The orders
were to land on the beach south of the city, make a dash for it, and
if that failed to seize Cullera at the mouth of the Xucar, or Denia,
farther down the coast. The project looked hazardous, for to throw
5,000 men ashore in the enemy’s country, far from their own main body,
was to risk their being cut up, or forced to a re-embarkation on a
bare beach, which could not fail to be costly. Unless Murray at the
same moment attacked Suchet, so that he should not be able to send a
man to the rear towards Valencia, the force embarked was altogether
too small. Murray’s calculation was that the Marshal would make a
heavy detachment, and that he would then attack the line of the Xucar
himself. With this object he invited Elio to co-operate, by turning
the French right on the inland on the side of Almanza. The Spanish
General, though he had been quarrelling with Murray of late, was now
in an obliging frame of mind[407] and so far consented that he brought
up one infantry division to Yecla, a place which would make a good
starting-point for a flank march round the extreme right of Suchet’s
positions.

Meanwhile, for ten days after the combat of Albeyda nothing happened
on the main front. Whittingham was still left in an advanced position
north of Alcoy, while the rest of the Alicante army was concentrated
at Castalla fifteen miles farther back. The marvel is that Suchet did
not make a pounce upon the isolated Spanish division pushed up so close
to his front. He had not yet taken the measure of his opponent, whose
failing (as the whole campaign shows) was to start schemes, and then to
abandon them from irresolution, at the critical moment when a decisive
move became necessary.

Meanwhile, on March 26th Roche’s division and the attached British
battalion were actually embarking at Alicante, for the dash at
Valencia, when Murray received a dispatch from Lord William Bentinck
at Palermo, informing him that a political crisis had broken out in
Sicily, that civil strife there had become probable, and that he was
therefore compelled to order the immediate recall of two regiments
of trustworthy troops from Spain. The fact was that the new Sicilian
constitution, proclaimed as the solution of all discontent in the
island in 1812, had failed to achieve its purpose. The old King
Ferdinand had carried out a sort of mild _coup d’état_, and proclaimed
his own restoration to absolute power (March 13th, 1813): the
Neapolitan troops who formed the majority of the armed force in the
island had accepted the position. The Sicilian constitutional party
seemed helpless, and the attitude of the local battalions under their
control was doubtful. Nothing could save the situation but a display of
overpowering force. Wherefore Bentinck directed Murray to send back to
Palermo, without delay, the 6th Line battalion K.G.L. and the battalion
of grenadier companies belonging to British regiments still quartered
in Sicily. This was not a very large order, so far as mere numbers
went--the force requisitioned being under 2,000 bayonets. But the
prospect of the outbreak of civil war in Sicily scared Murray--if the
strife once began, would not more of his best troops be requisitioned,
and the Alicante force be reduced to a residuum of disloyal foreign
levies? Moreover, one of the units requisitioned by name was the
battalion of grenadiers just about to sail for Valencia. Perhaps not
without secret satisfaction, for he hated making decisions of any sort,
Murray declared that Bentinck’s orders rendered the naval expedition
impossible, and countermanded it. He sent off, on the transports ready
in harbour, the grenadier battalion ordered to Sicily, and returned the
Spanish contingent to its old cantonments[408]. The K.G.L. battalion
was just embarking when news arrived (April 1st) that the Sicilian
crisis was now over, wherefore Murray retained it for a few more
day[409].

For the counter-revolution at Palermo had only lasted for four days!
Finding Lord William Bentinck firm, and prepared to use force, King
Ferdinand withdrew his proclamation, and resigned the administration
into the hands of his eldest son, the Prince Royal. The Queen, whose
strong will had set the whole affair on foot, promised to return to
her native Austria, and actually sailed for the Levant, to the intense
satisfaction of every one save the knot of intriguers in her Court. The
scare was soon over--its only result was the abandonment of the raid
on Valencia. Murray had now received orders from Wellington to await
the arrival of a detailed scheme for the way in which his army was to
be employed. Pending the receipt of these[410] directions he lapsed
into absolute torpidity--the only record of his doings in the last days
of March and early April being that he set the troops concentrated
at Castalla to entrenching the hillsides around that formidable
position--a clear sign that he had no further intention of taking the
offensive on his own account.

Suchet had been much puzzled by the advance of his enemy to Alcoy and
Albeyda, followed by subsequent inactivity for a whole month. When
he found that even the movement of Elio’s troops to Yecla did not
foreshadow a general assault upon his lines, he concluded that there
must be some unexplained reason for the quiescence of the Allies,
and that the opportunity was a good one for a bold blow, while they
remained inexplicably waiting in a disjointed and unconcentrated line
opposite his positions. The obvious and easy thing would have been to
fall upon Whittingham at Alcoy, but probably for that very reason the
Marshal tried another scheme. He secretly passed all his available
troops to Fuente la Higuera, on his extreme right flank, leaving only a
trifling screen in front of Murray’s army, and on April 10th marched in
two columns against the allied left. One consisting of six battalions
of Harispe’s division and two cavalry regiments aimed at the isolated
Murcian division at Yecla, the other and larger column four battalions
of Habert’s division, and seven of Musnier’s (under Robert during the
absence of its proper chief), with his cuirassier regiment, marched by
Caudete on Villena, to cut in between the Spaniards and Murray, and
intercept any aid which the latter might send from Castalla towards the
Spaniards.

The blow was unexpected and delivered with great vigour: Harispe
surprised General Mijares’ Murcians at Yecla at dawn; they were
hopelessly outnumbered, only four battalions being present-the fifth
unit of the division was at Villena. And there was but a single
squadron with them, Elio’s cavalry being in its cantonments thirty
miles away in the Albacete-Chinchilla country. Mijares, on finding
himself assailed by superior numbers, tried to march off towards
Jumilla and the mountains. Harispe pursued, and seeing the Spaniards
likely to get away, for the retreat was rapid and in good order, flung
his hussars and dragoons at them. The Spaniards turned up on to a
hillside, and tried a running fight. The two leading battalions of the
column made good their escape--the two rear battalions were cut off:
they formed square, beat back two charges with resolution, but were
broken by the third, and absolutely exterminated: 400 were cut down,
about 1,000 captured. Of these two unlucky regiments, 1st of Burgos
and Cadiz, hardly a man got away--the other two, Jaen and Cuenca, took
little harm[411]. The French lost only 18 killed and 61 wounded, mostly
in the two cavalry regiments, for Harispe’s infantry were but slightly
engaged.

Ill news flies quickly--the fighting had been in the early dawn, by
noon mounted fugitives had brought the tidings to Villena, fifteen
miles away. Here there chanced to be present both Elio and Sir John
Murray, who had ridden over to consult with his colleague on a rumour
that Suchet was concentrating at Fuente la Higuera. He had brought with
him the ‘light brigade,’ under Colonel Adam, which he had recently
organized[412], and 400 horse[413]. The Generals soon learned that
beside the force which had cut up Mijares, there was a larger column
marching on their own position. They were in no condition to offer
battle, Elio having with him only a single battalion, Murray about
2,500 men of all arms. They agreed that they must quit Villena and
concentrate their troops for a defensive action. Elio sent orders to
his cavalry to come in from the North and join the wrecks of Mijares’
division, and for the reserves which he had got in the neighbourhood
of Murcia to march up to the front[414]. But it would obviously take
some days to collect these scattered items. Meanwhile he threw the
single battalion that he had with him (Velez Malaga) into the castle
of Villena, which had been patched up and put into a state of defence,
promising that it should be relieved when his army was concentrated.

Murray, on the other hand, retired towards his main body at Castalla,
but ordered Adam’s ‘light brigade’ to defend the pass of Biar for as
long as prudence permitted, so as to allow the rest of the army to
get into position. Whittingham was directed to fall back from Alcoy,
Roche to come up from the rear, and by the next evening the whole
Alicante army would be concentrated, in a position which had been
partly entrenched during the last three weeks, and was very strong even
without fortification. Murray refused (very wisely) to send back Adam
to pick up the Spanish battalion left in Villena, which Elio (seized
with doubts when it was too late) now wished to withdraw.

Suchet reached Villena on the evening of the 11th, and got in touch
with the cavalry screen covering Adam’s retreat. Finding the castle
held, he started to bombard it with his field artillery, and on the
morning of the 12th blew in its gates and offered to storm. He sent
in a _parlementaire_ to summon the garrison, and to his surprise it
capitulated without firing a shot--a mutiny having broken out among
the men[415], who considered that they had been deserted by their
General. Suchet now intended to fall on Murray at Castalla, reckoning
that Elio’s concentration had been prevented by the blows at Yecla
and Villena, and that he would have the Alicante army alone to deal
with. He ordered the troops that were with him to drive in without
delay Adam’s light brigade, which his cavalry had discovered holding
the village of Biar and the pass above it. His other column, that of
Harispe, was not far off, being on the march from Yecla. Finding that
it was gone, Mijares cautiously reoccupied that place with his two
surviving battalions.

The combat of Biar, which filled the midday hours of April 12th, was
one of the most creditable rearguard actions fought during the whole
Peninsular War. Colonel Adam had only one British and two Italian
battalions, with two German Legion rifle companies, four mountain guns,
and one squadron of the ‘Foreign Hussars’--about 2,200 men in all.
He had prepared a series of positions on which he intended to fall
back in succession, as each was forced. At the commencement of the
action he occupied Biar village with the Calabrese Free Corps, flanked
by the light companies of the 2/27th and 3rd K.G.L. The rest of the
brigade was above, on the hills flanking the pass, with the guns on
the high road. The leading French battalion assaulted the barricaded
village, and was repulsed with heavy loss. Then, as was expected, the
enemy turned Biar on both flanks: its garrison retired unharmed, but
the turning columns came under the accurate fire of the troops on the
slopes above, and the attack was again checked. Suchet, angered at
the waste of time, then threw in no less than nine battalions[416]
intending to sweep away all opposition, and turning Adam’s left flank
with swarms of voltigeurs. The Light Brigade had, of course, to retire;
but Adam conducted his retreat with great deliberation and in perfect
order, fending off the turning attack with his German and British light
companies, and making the column on the high road pay very dearly for
each furlong gained. His four mountain guns, on the crest of the pass,
were worked with good effect to the last moment--two which had each
lost a wheel were abandoned on the ground. When the crest had been
passed, Suchet sent a squadron of cuirassiers to charge down the road
on the retreating infantry. Foreseeing this, when the cavalry had been
noted on the ascent, Adam had hidden three companies of the 2/27th
in rocks where the road made a sharp angle: the cuirassiers, as they
trotted past, received a flank volley at ten paces distance, which
knocked over many, and sent the rest reeling back in disorder on to
their own infantry. After this the pursuit slackened; ‘the enemy seemed
glad to be rid of us,’ and after five hours’ fighting the Light Brigade
marched back in perfect order to the position beside Castalla which had
been assigned to it[417]. Its final retirement was covered by three
battalions which Murray had sent out to meet it, at the exit from the
pass[418].

So ended a very pretty fight. Whittingham, who had witnessed the later
phases of it from the hill on the left of Castalla, describes it as
‘a beautiful field-day, by alternate battalions: the volleys were
admirable, and the successive passage of several ravines conducted
with perfect order and steadiness. From the heights occupied by my
troops it was one of the most delightful panoramas that I ever beheld.’
The allied loss was about 300[419], including Colonel Adam wounded
in the arm, yet not so much hurt but that he kept the command and
gave directions to the end. On the ground evacuated 41 ‘missing’ and
two disabled mountain guns were left in the enemy’s hands. The French
must have suffered much the same casualties--Suchet gives no estimate,
but Martinien’s invaluable lists show two officers killed and twelve
wounded, which at the usual rate between officers and men implies about
300 rank and file hit.

On emerging from the pass of Biar in the late afternoon Suchet could
see Murray’s army occupying a long front of high ground as far as the
town of Castalla, but could descry neither its encampment, behind the
heights, nor the end of its right wing, which was thrown back and
hidden by the high conical hill on which the castle and church of
Castalla stand. Seeing the enemy ready, and apparently resolved to
fight, the Marshal put off serious operations to the next day. He had
to wait for Harispe’s column, which was still coming up many miles in
his rear.

Murray had long surveyed his ground, and had (as we have seen) thrown
up barricades and entrenchments on the hill of Castalla and the ground
immediately to its right and left. He had very nearly every available
man of his army in hand, only a minimum garrison having been left in
Alicante[420]. The total cannot have been less than 18,000 men; he
had divided his own troops into the Light Brigade of Adam, and the
two divisions of Mackenzie and Clinton. The first named had three
and a quarter battalions--not quite 2,000 men after its losses at
Biar on the previous afternoon[421]. Mackenzie seems to have had one
British, two German Legion, and two Sicilian battalions[422]: Clinton
three British, one composite Foreign, and one Italian battalion[423].
Whittingham had six Spanish battalions with him[424]--Roche only
five[425]. The cavalry consisted of three squadrons of the 20th Light
Dragoons, two of Sicilian cavalry, one of ‘Foreign Hussars,’ and about
400 of Whittingham’s Spanish horse[426], under 1,000 sabres in all.
There were two British, two Portuguese, and a Sicilian battery on the
ground.

The sierra on the left, known as the heights of Guerra, was held by
Whittingham’s Spaniards for a mile, next them came Adam’s brigade,
above a jutting spur which projects from the sierra towards the plain,
then Mackenzie’s division, which extended as far as the hill on which
the castle of Castalla stands: this was occupied by the 1/58th of
Clinton’s division, and two batteries had been thrown up on the slope.
With this hill the sierra ends suddenly; but a depression and stream
running southward furnished a good protection for Murray’s right, which
was held by the rest of Clinton’s division. The stream had been dammed
up, and formed a broad morass covering a considerable portion of the
front. Behind it Clinton’s troops were deployed, with three of Roche’s
battalions as a reserve in their rear: two batteries were placed on
commanding knolls in this part of the line, which was so far thrown
back _en potence_ that it was almost at right angles to the front
occupied by Mackenzie, Adam, and Whittingham. The Spanish and Sicilian
cavalry was thrown out as a screen in front of Castalla, with two of
Roche’s battalions in support. The 20th Light Dragoons were in reserve
behind the town. The east end of the sierra, near Castalla, was covered
by vineyards in step-cultivation, each enclosure a few feet higher
than the next below it. Farther west there was only rough hillside,
below Whittingham’s front. The whole position was excellent--yet
Murray is said by his Quartermaster-General, Donkin, to have felt so
uncomfortable that he thrice contemplated issuing orders for a retreat,
though he could see the whole French army, and judge that its strength
was much less than his own[427]. But he distrusted both himself and
many battalions of his miscellaneous army.

Suchet, contrary to his wont, was slow to act. It is said that he
disliked the look of the position, and doubted the wisdom of attacking,
but was over-persuaded by some of his generals, who urged that the
enemy was a mixed multitude, and that the Spaniards and Sicilians would
never stand against a resolute attack. It was not till noon that the
French army moved--the first manœuvre was that the whole of the cavalry
rode out eastward, took position opposite the angle _en potence_ of
Murray’s position, and sent exploring parties towards Clinton’s front.
Evidently the report was that it was inaccessible. While this was
happening the infantry deployed, and Habert’s and Robert’s division
advanced and occupied a low ridge, called the Cerro del Doncel, in the
plain facing Murray’s left and left-centre. Harispe’s division, minus
a detachment left behind the pass of Biar to watch for any possible
appearance of Elio’s troops on the road from Sax, formed in reserve.
The whole of Suchet’s infantry was only 18 battalions, individually
weaker than Murray’s 24; he was outnumbered in guns also--24 to 30
apparently--but his 1,250 cavalry were superior in numbers and quality
to Murray’s. He had certainly not more than 13,000 men on the ground to
the Allies’ 18,000.

His game was to leave Clinton’s division and Castalla alone, watched
only by his cavalry; to contain Mackenzie by demonstrations, which were
not to be pushed home; but to strike heavily with Robert’s division
at the Spaniards on the left. If he could break down Whittingham’s
defence, and drive him off the sierra, he would attack the allied
centre from flank and front alike--but meanwhile it was not to be
pressed. When, therefore, Habert faced Mackenzie nothing serious
happened, the French sent out swarms of tirailleurs, brought up eight
guns and shelled the position with grape. Mackenzie’s light companies
and guns replied, ‘but there was nothing more than a skirmish: the
columns shifted their ground indeed more than once, but they did not
deploy, and their officers took good care not to bring them under the
fire of our line[428].’

On the left, however, there was hard fighting. Suchet first sent out
five light companies to endeavour to turn the extreme western end of
Whittingham’s line, and, when they were far up the slope, delivered a
frontal attack on the heights of Guerra with six battalions of Robert’s
division: the 3rd Léger and 114th and 121st Line[429]: of these the
left-hand battalions (belonging to the 121st) came up the projecting
spur mentioned above, and faced the 2/27th on the left of Adam’s
brigade. The other four were opposed to the Spaniards.

Whittingham was caught in a rather dangerous position, for a little
while before the attack developed, he had received an order from
head-quarters bidding him execute against Robert’s division precisely
the same manœuvre that Suchet was trying against himself, viz. to
send troops to outflank the extreme French right. He was told by the
bearer of the orders, a Sicilian colonel, that this was preliminary
to a general attack downhill upon the French line, which Murray was
intending to carry out. The Spanish division was to turn its flank,
while Adam and Mackenzie went straight at its front. There is some
mystery here--Murray afterwards denied to Whittingham that he had given
any such order[430], and Donkin, his Chief of the Staff, maintained
that his general was thinking of a retreat all that morning rather than
of an attack. Yet Colonel Catanelli was a respectable officer, who was
thanked in dispatches both by Murray and Whittingham for his services!
Three hypotheses suggest themselves: (1) that Murray at one moment
meditated an attack, because he saw Suchet holding back, and then (with
his usual infirmity of purpose) dropped the idea, and denied having
made any such plan to Whittingham, whose position had been gravely
imperilled by its execution. This is quite in accordance with his
mentality, and he often tampered with the truth--as we shall see when
telling the tale of Tarragona. (2) That Donkin and the head-quarters
staff, enraged with Murray’s timidity, were resolved to commit him to
a fight, and gave unauthorized orders which must bring it on. (3) That
Catanelli, from lack of a good command of English, misunderstood the
General’s language, and gave complete misdirections to Whittingham. I
must confess that I incline to the first solution[431].

Whatever the source of these orders may have been, Whittingham began to
carry them out, though they seemed to him very ill-advised. But noting
that if he completely evacuated the heights of Guerra there would be
a broad gap in the allied line, he left his picquets in position and
two battalions on the crest of the hill[432], with another in support
behind[433], while with the remaining three[434] he moved off to the
left. The march was executed, out of sight of the enemy, by a mountain
path which ran along the rear of the heights.

Whittingham had been moving for some half an hour, and slowly, for the
path was steep and narrow, when the sound of musketry on the other side
of the crest reached his ears, and soon after a message that the enemy
was attacking the whole of the front of his old position. On its left
the voltigeur companies had got very near the top of the hill--farther
east the assault was only developing. It was lucky that the marching
column had not gone far--Whittingham was able to send his hindmost
battalion straight up the hill against the voltigeurs, to strengthen
his flank--with the other two he counter-marched to the rear of the
heights of Guerra, and fed the fighting line which he had left there,
as each point needed succour.

The contest all along the heights was protracted and fierce. At
several points the French reached the crest, but were never able to
maintain themselves there, as Whittingham had always a reserve of a
few companies ready for a counter-stroke. The troops of the Army of
Aragon had never before met with such opposition from Spaniards, and
for a long time refused to own themselves beaten. There was still one
regiment of Robert’s division in reserve[435], but evidently Suchet
shrank from committing the last fraction of his right wing to the
attack, which was obviously not making any decisive headway.

Meanwhile the easternmost column of the French advance suffered a
complete defeat: this body, composed of two battalions of the 121st
regiment, had mounted the heights, not at their steepest, but at the
point where a long projecting spur falls down from them into the plain.
But even so there was a sudden rise in the last stage of the ascent,
before the crest was reached. On coming to it the French colonel
(Millet by name) began to deploy his leading companies, which found
themselves opposite the 2/27th, on the left of Adam’s brigade. This
manœuvre had always failed when tried against British infantry--notably
at Albuera, for deployment at close quarters under the deadly fire of
a British line was impracticable, and always led to confusion. There
was a pause[436], many casualties, and much wavering; then, seeing the
enemy stationary and discouraged, Colonel Reeves flung his battalion at
them in a downhill bayonet charge--like Craufurd at Bussaco. The effect
was instantaneous and conclusive--the French column broke and raced
headlong down the slopes, arriving in the valley as a disorganized mob.
It had lost 19 officers and probably 350 men in five minutes.

Either in consequence of this rout, or by mere chance at the same
moment[437], the columns which had been assailing Whittingham so long
and ineffectively, also recoiled in disorder before a charge of the
last four companies of the Spanish reserve. The whole of the French
right wing had suffered complete and disastrous defeat. The left
division, Habert’s, was still intact and had never committed itself
to any serious approach to Mackenzie’s front. But six of the eighteen
French battalions in the field were in absolute rout at half-past four
o’clock, and Suchet’s right wing was completely exposed--his cavalry
were two miles away to the left, and out of reach for the moment. All
eye-witnesses agree that if Murray had ordered an immediate general
advance of the line from Castalla westward, the Marshal would have been
lost, and cut off from his sole line of retreat on the pass of Biar.
Murray, however, refused to move till he had brought up his unengaged
right wing to act as a reserve, and only when they had filed up through
the streets of Castalla, gave the order for the whole army to descend
from the heights and push forward.

It was far too late: Suchet had retreated from the Cerro del Doncel
the moment that he saw his attack repulsed, Habert’s division and the
guns covering Robert’s routed wing. The cavalry came galloping back
from the east, and long before Murray was deployed, Suchet took up a
new and narrow front covering the entry of the pass of Biar. The only
touch with his retreating force was kept by Mackenzie, who (contrary
to Murray’s intention) pushed forward with four of his battalions in
front of the main body, and got engaged with Suchet’s rearguard. He
might probably have beaten it in upon the disordered troops behind, if
he had not received stringent orders to draw back and fall in to the
general front of advance. By the time that the whole allied army was
deployed, the French, save a long line of guns across the mouth of the
pass, with infantry on the slopes on each side, had got off. Thereupon,
after making a feeble demonstration with some light companies against
the enemy’s left flank, Murray halted for the night. The enemy used the
hours of darkness to make a forced march for Fuente la Higuera, and
were invisible next day.

Suchet declared that he had lost no more than 800 men in the three
combats of Yecla, Biar, and Castalla, an incredible statement, as
the French casualty rolls show 65 officers killed and wounded on the
11th-12th-13th of April; and such a loss implies 1,300 rank and file
hit--possibly more, certainly not many less. It is certain that his
800 casualties will not suffice even for Castalla alone, where with 47
officers _hors de combat_ he must have lost more probably 950 than 800
men. But the 14 officer-casualties at Biar imply another 280 at the
least, and we know from his own narrative that he lost 4 officers and
80 men in destroying Mijares’ unfortunate battalions at Yecla[438].

Murray, writing a most magniloquent and insincere dispatch for
Wellington’s eye, declared that Suchet had lost 2,500 or even 3,000
men, and that he had buried 800 French corpses. But Murray had
apparently been taking lessons in the school of Soult and Masséna,
those great manipulators of casualty lists! His dispatch was so absurd
that Wellington refused to be impressed, and sent on the document
to Lord Bathurst with the most formal request that the attention of
the Prince Regent should be drawn to the conduct of the General and
his troops, but no word of praise of his own[439]. The allied loss,
indeed, was so moderate that Murray’s 2,500 French casualties appeared
incredible to every one. After we have deducted the heavy losses to
Adam’s brigade at Biar on the preceding day, we find that Whittingham’s
Spaniards had 233 casualties, Mackenzie’s division 47, Clinton’s
about 20, Adam’s brigade perhaps 70, the cavalry and artillery 10
altogether--the total making some 400 in all[440].

Having discovered that the Alicante army was formidable, if its general
was not, Suchet was in some fear that he might find himself pursued
and attacked, for the enemy seemed to be concentrating against him.
Murray advanced once more to Alcoy, Elio brought up his reserve
division and his cavalry to join the wrecks of Mijares’ column, and
extended himself on Murray’s left. Villacampa, called down from the
hills, appeared on the Upper Guadalaviar on the side of Requeña. But
all this meant nothing--Murray was well satisfied to have won a success
capable of being well ‘written up’ at Castalla, and covered his want of
initiative by complaining that he was short of transport, and weakened
in numbers--for after the battle he had sent off the 6th K.G.L. to
Sicily, in belated obedience to Bentinck’s old orders. He asked
Wellington for more men and more guns, and was given both, for he was
told that he might draw the 2/67th from the garrison of Cartagena[441],
and was sent a field battery from Portugal. But his true purpose was
now to wait for the arrival of the promised ‘plan of campaign’ from
Freneda, and thereby to shirk all personal responsibility. Anything was
better than to risk a check--or a reprimand from the caustic pen of the
Commander-in-Chief.

Suchet, then, drew down Pannetier’s brigade from Aragon to strengthen
his position on the Xucar, and waited, not altogether confidently, for
the next move on the part of the enemy. But for a month no such move
came. He had time to recover his equanimity, and to write dispatches
to Paris which described his late campaign as a successful attempt
to check the enemy’s initiative, which had brought him 2,000 Spanish
prisoners at Yecla and Villena, and two British guns at the pass of
Biar. Castalla was represented as a partial attack by light troops,
which had been discontinued when the enemy’s full strength had been
discovered, and the losses there were unscrupulously minimized. And,
above all, good cause had been shown that the Army of Aragon and
Valencia could not spare one man to help King Joseph in the North.

But the ‘plan of campaign’ was on its way, and we shall see how, even
in Murray’s incompetent hands, it gave the Marshal Duke of Albufera
full employment for May and June.

SECTION XXXVI

THE MARCH TO VITTORIA

CHAPTER I

WELLINGTON’S PLAN OF CAMPAIGN

Good generals are very properly averse to putting on paper, even for
the benefit of premiers or war ministers, the plan of their next
campaign. Points of leakage are so inscrutable, and so hard to detect,
that the less that is written the better is it for the projected
enterprise. And Wellington was the most reticent of men--even going to
the length of hiding from his own responsible subordinates intentions
that they much desired to learn, and of giving orders that seemed
eccentric while the secret reason for them was kept concealed. He never
wrote autobiographical memoirs--the idea was repulsive to him--nor
consented to open up (even to William Napier, who much desired it) his
full confidence. For the genesis of the plan of the Vittoria Campaign
we are compelled to rely mainly on the careful collection of hints from
his contemporary dispatches, supplemented by certain rare confidential
letters, and some _obiter dicta_ of his later years, which may or may
not have been reproduced with perfect accuracy by admirers like Croker
or Lord Stanhope.

One thing is clear--he was conscious of the mistakes of 1812, and was
not going to see them repeated in 1813. When the Burgos campaign was
just over he wrote two short comments[442] on it, for the benefit
of persons whom he judged capable of appreciating his difficulties.
He owned up to his errors--he acknowledged four. The first was that
he had tried to take Burgos by irregular means, without a proper
battering train: the second that he had under-estimated the strength
of the united French armies of Portugal and the North: the third that
he had kept his army in two equal halves over-long--Hill should have
been called in from Madrid to join the main body much sooner than he
actually was: the fourth and most notable was that he had entrusted a
crucial part of his plan of campaign to a Spanish general, over whom
he had no formal authority--Ballasteros, who should have advanced from
Andalusia to distract and hinder Soult. ‘If the game had been well
played it would have answered my purpose. Had I any reason to suppose
that it would be well played? Certainly not. I have never yet known the
Spaniards do _anything_, much less do anything _well_.... But I played
a game which _might_ succeed (the only one that _could_ succeed) and
pushed it to the last. The parts having failed--as I admit was to be
expected--I at least made a handsome retreat to the Agueda, with some
labour and inconvenience but without material loss.’

The interest of these confessions is that we find Wellington in his
next campaign making a clear effort to avoid precisely these four
mistakes. He made elaborate preparations long beforehand for getting up
a battering train: he rather over- than under-estimated his adversary’s
numbers by way of caution: he never divided his army at all during his
great advance of May-June 1813; after the first six days it marched in
close parallel columns all in one mass, till Vittoria had been reached:
and, last but not least, he entrusted no important part of the scheme
to any Spanish general, and indeed used a much smaller proportion of
Spanish troops than he need have done, although he had now become
Generalissimo of all the allied armies, and could command where he
could formerly only give advice.

Immediately after the termination of the Burgos retreat Wellington’s
views for the future do not seem to have been very optimistic. He wrote
to the Prime Minister that at present he could do nothing against an
enemy whose numbers had proved too great for him to contend with[443].
Next spring he hoped to take the field with a larger force than he had
ever had before, but unless the Spaniards could display a discipline
and efficiency which it seemed impossible to teach them, he saw no
prospect of ever obliging the French to quit the Peninsula by force of
arms. To Lord Bathurst he wrote in much the same terms--the French,
he thought, would canton their army in Old Castile and wait for the
arrival of fresh reinforcements from France.

But the whole aspect of affairs was changed when the news of Napoleon’s
Russian _débâcle_ came to hand. It soon became clear that so far from
any French reinforcements coming to Spain, it would be King Joseph who
would be asked to send reinforcements to Germany. Lord Liverpool’s
letter, enclosing the 29th Bulletin, reached Wellington at Lisbon on
January 18th, and put him in a more cheerful mood. Moreover, he thought
that his visit to Cadiz to accept the position of Generalissimo had
been a success, and that he would get more help out of the Spaniards
now that he had the formal power of issuing orders to their generals,
‘though I am not sanguine enough to hope that we shall derive much
advantage from Spanish troops _early_ in the campaign.’ But he intended
to start betimes, ‘and at least to put myself in Fortune’s way[444].’
The French would be compelled to stand on the defensive; if they
continued to hold the immense line that they were still occupying in
January, they must be weak somewhere, and it was impossible that they
should be reinforced.

It is on February 10th[445] that we get the first hint that
Wellington’s scheme for the campaign of 1813 was going to be a very
ambitious one--aiming not at local successes in Castile, or on
recovering Madrid, but at driving the French right up to the Pyrenees.
On that day he wrote to Lord Bathurst to say that ‘the events of the
next campaign may render it necessary for the army to undertake one or
more sieges in the North of Spain,’ wherefore he wished certain heavy
guns and munitions to be sent by sea to Corunna, to be at his disposal,
as soon as might be convenient, and twice the quantity of each to be
prepared in England to be shipped when asked for.

The mention of ‘one or more sieges in the North of Spain’ for which
guns had better be sent by sea to Corunna, can only mean that
Wellington was thinking of Burgos and St. Sebastian--perhaps also of
Santoña and Pampeluna. There were no other fortresses needing the
attention of a heavy battering train in that direction. It is clear
that, even in February, Wellington’s mind was travelling far afield;
and on June 26th, Vittoria having been now won, he wrote to remind Lord
Bathurst of his demand, and to point out that his forecast had come
true[446].

In March, as was shown in an earlier chapter, Wellington began to get
the news which proved that the French were making large drafts from
Spain for the new Army of Germany, and that Soult, Caffarelli, and
other generals were summoned to Paris. He knew, a few days later, that
the enemy was evacuating La Mancha, and that the King was moving his
head-quarters from Madrid to Valladolid. Everything indicated conscious
weakness on the part of the enemy--it would be well to take instant
advantage of it: Wellington wrote to his brother on March 28 that he
hoped to start out in force on May 1st[447]--giving no hint where that
force would be employed. At the same time he expressed his doubt as to
whether any of the Spanish corps which were to join him could be ready
by that date. But he was depending so much on the sole exertions of the
Anglo-Portuguese army, that the tardiness of the Spaniards would not
put a complete stop to his projected operations. Two other practical
hindrances were a late spring, which made green forage for the horses
harder to procure than it normally was in April, and accidents from
bad roads and bad weather to his pontoon train, which he was secretly
bringing up from the Tagus to the Douro, as it was to play a most
essential part in the commencement of the campaign[448]. These mishaps
appear mere matters of detail, but (as we shall see) there were immense
consequences depending upon them--the presence of a large pontoon train
on the Esla and the Douro, when its normal habitat was on the lower
Tagus, was one of the first surprises in the wonderful campaign of
May-June 1813. Starting from Abrantes in the end of April, it did not
reach Miranda de Douro till the 20th of May[449].

The first definite revelation as to what Wellington’s plan was to be,
is contained in a letter to Beresford of April 24th. ‘I propose to
put the troops in motion in the first days of May: my intention is to
make them cross the Douro, in general within the Portuguese frontier,
covering the movement of the left by that of the right of the Army
toward the Tormes, which right shall then cross the Douro, over the
pontoons, in such situation as may be convenient. I then propose to
seize Zamora and Toro, which will make all future operations easy to
us[450].’

Here the first half of the great movement is accurately set forth, just
as it was executed, though owing to the delays spoken of above, the
general orders for the marching out of all the allied divisions were
issued on May 13th instead of on May 1st-2nd. But in all other respects
we have the exact analysis of the scheme: the ‘Left’--Graham with the
equivalent of six divisions--crossed the Douro far inside Portugal
at various points, and was in and about Braganza and Miranda by May
21st-24th: meanwhile the ‘Right’--Hill with three divisions--moved
forward from the Agueda to the Tormes, attracting the main attention of
the French between the 20th and the 26th, till it reached Salamanca,
from whence it swerved off to the left, and joined Graham’s wing by
the bridge of Toro, thus establishing the whole army in one mass north
of the Douro, and completely turning the western flank of the entire
French front of defence. On May 12 only, three weeks after he had
communicated the secret to Beresford, did Wellington divulge it to the
Ministers at home: evidently he dreaded leakage somewhere in London,
such as he had discovered in the preceding autumn[451]. For Lord
Bathurst’s benefit he descends a little more into detail:

‘I propose to commence our operations by turning the enemy’s position
on the Douro, by passing the left of our army over that river within
the Portuguese frontier. I should cross the Right in the same manner,
only that I have been obliged to throw the Right very forward during
the winter, in order to cover and connect our cantonments, and I could
not well draw them back without exposing a good deal of country, and
risking a counter-movement on the part of the enemy. I therefore
propose to strengthen the Right, and move with it myself across the
Tormes, and to establish a bridge on the Douro below Zamora. The two
wings of the army will thus be connected, and the enemy’s position on
the Douro will be turned. The Spanish Army of Galicia will be on the
Esla, to the left of our army, at the same time that our army reaches
that river.

‘Having turned the enemy’s position on the Douro, and established
our communications across it, our next operation will depend on
circumstances. I do not know whether I am now stronger than the enemy,
even including the Army of Galicia. But of this I am very certain, that
I shall never be stronger throughout the campaign, or more efficient,
than I am now: and the enemy will never be weaker. I cannot have a
better opportunity for trying the fate of a battle, which if the enemy
should be unsuccessful, must oblige him to withdraw entirely. We have
been sadly delayed by the pontoon bridge, without which it is obvious
we can do nothing[452].’

Neither in the letter to Beresford nor in that to Bathurst
does Wellington make a forecast beyond the first stage of his
advance--obviously it would be impossible to do so till it was seen how
the French would act. If they should be tempted to fight--say in front
of Valladolid--when their flank was turned, in order to keep their hold
on Castile, Wellington would welcome the decisive engagement. But of
course they might refuse to fight, as indeed did they. They retired on
Burgos, as we shall see, without taking any risks.

But that Wellington already foresaw the possibility of a victorious
march to the Pyrenees is, I think, proved not only by his letter of
February 10th concerning the siege of fortresses in Northern Spain,
quoted above, but by similar hints on May 6 concerning the absolute
necessity for naval co-operation in the North. He asks Lord Bathurst
to insist on the presence of a squadron under an admiral in the Bay of
Biscay, and for careful supervision of the whole coast from Bayonne
to Corunna, which must absolutely stop French enterprise at sea, and
‘simplify arrangements for convoy and naval operations in concert with
the army during the ensuing campaign[453].’ Taking this in conjunction
with the letter of February 10, it seems certain that Wellington was
thinking of stores to be landed at Santander, and a battering train to
destroy San Sebastian--which was to look forward some way! There was,
however, a secondary reason for requiring more naval supervision in the
Bay of Biscay: American privateers had been putting in an appearance in
these waters, and had captured several small transports.

A plan of campaign that contemplated the driving back of the French to
the Pyrenees must, of course, embrace a good deal more than the mere
reorganization of the Anglo-Portuguese army for a great push north of
the Douro. There were many minor factors to be taken into consideration
and utilized. First and foremost came the question as to how far the
position of Generalissimo of the Spanish Armies could be turned to
account. After his experiences in 1812 Wellington was determined to
entrust to his Allies no crucial part of the operations, whose failure
could wreck the whole scheme. With his own striking-force he intended
to take only one Spanish army, that which was under the sole Spanish
general whom he could trust for willing co-operation, even though he
knew him to be no great military genius. Castaños had, by his influence
at Cadiz, been nominated as Captain-General alike in Galicia, Castile,
and Estremadura, and all the troops in those provinces now formed part
of the new ‘4th Army.’ They included Morillo’s division, now cantoned
about Caçeres, Carlos de España’s in the mountains between Ciudad
Rodrigo and the pass of Perales, the lancers of Julian Sanchez--now
counted a brigade of regular cavalry and not a _partida_--on the front
between the Agueda and the Douro, and the two Galician divisions of
Losada and Barcena, with their weak attendant cavalry brigade: to
bring this up to strength two extra regiments[454] had filed up the
Portuguese frontier during the winter from Estremadura. All these
were in touch with the Anglo-Portuguese army, and were intended to
move with it. They made up 18,000 foot and 3,000 horse. In addition
there were many other troops theoretically belonging to the 4th Army,
but at present cut off from it by the intervening zone of French
occupation--viz. Porlier’s division in the Eastern Asturias, and
Mendizabal’s irregular forces in Biscay and Cantabria--the troops of
Longa and the Biscayan volunteers with other smaller bands. These
scattered units, which could only come under Wellington’s real control
when he should have beaten the French back to the Ebro, might make up
10,000 or 12,000 men. But they could not be counted upon for the first
month of the campaign.

In addition, Castaños had a number of immovable troops--the garrisons
of Rodrigo and Badajoz, a dépôt of unhorsed cavalry in Estremadura, and
a sedentary unit called the ‘Army of Reserve of Galicia,’ consisting
of all the most depleted corps of the old Galician army: its six
battalions only made up 2,000 men, and it stopped at Vigo or Corunna
all through the year 1813. Two other Galician battalions[455] had been
sent round by sea during the winter, to join the much-tried Army of
Catalonia. This small transference of troops had reached the knowledge
of the French in an exaggerated shape, and caused much speculation at
Madrid.

Beside the 21,000 men of the 4th Army, who marched in the
Anglo-Portuguese line under Castaños’s nephew General Giron[456],
there was only one other Spanish force which Wellington intended to
employ in his own operations. This was the so-called ‘Army of Reserve
of Andalusia,’ which had to come up all the way from Seville, and
was far too late to join in the campaign of Vittoria: it did not get
to the front till July: even later than the Generalissimo expected.
The origin of this corps was that, when Soult evacuated Andalusia in
September 1812, the best-equipped of the Cadiz garrison troops joined
the field-army of Ballasteros, and advanced with him to Granada.
This body was in April 1813 known as the ‘Third Army’ and was now
commanded by the Duque del Parque, the successor of the cashiered
Ballasteros. But the remainder of the Cadiz garrison, which had not
gone to the front, was organized during the winter into a separate
unit, under Henry O’Donnell, the Conde d’Abispal. It was rather a
miscellaneous assembly--seven of its fourteen battalions having been
regiments which did not march in October 1812 because they were low
in numbers or equipment, and three more newly-raised units, formed to
replace in the Army List old regiments which had perished in previous
campaigns. However, they were filled up with recruits, re-clothed and
re-equipped, and Wellington intended to use them with his own army, as
_étape_ and blockade troops. He preferred to take them with him rather
than the 3rd Army, which was suspected of having many officers who
had been devoted to Ballasteros, and who had resented the appointment
of the new British generalissimo[457]. Moreover, O’Donnell was in
every way a better officer than Del Parque, and had a good fighting
reputation, though he was noted as impetuous and quarrelsome. The Army
of Reserve of Andalusia was 14,000 strong, in two infantry divisions
under Generals Echevari and Creagh and a weak cavalry brigade under
Freire--late second in command of the Murcian army. The slow equipment
of this corps, its late start, and its frequent halts for want of
provisions, formed a perpetual source of dispute between Wellington and
the Minister of War at Cadiz. But as it was not destined to form part
of the original striking-force at the opening of the campaign, or to
discharge any essential duty in the general scheme, its absence was not
much felt. When it did appear, after Vittoria, it was usefully employed
in blockading Pampeluna.

But in the summer campaign of 1813 it must be remembered that
Wellington employed no Spanish troops save the original 21,000
Galicians and Estremadurans under Giron, and Longa’s 4,000 Cantabrians,
who joined in from the North ten days before Vittoria, and took a
creditable share in that battle.

It remains to be explained how Wellington intended to get an indirect
profit out of the existence of the other Spanish corps--the re-named
First, Second, and Third Armies, as well as out of the Anglo-Sicilian
expeditionary force at Alicante, whose conduct had given him so many
just causes of complaint during the autumn of 1812.

As to the ‘First Army,’ now commanded by General Copons (the
defender of Tarifa), this gallant remnant of the old Catalan levies
could not take the field 10,000 strong, was almost destitute of
cavalry and artillery, and had no large town or secure fortress in
its possession[458]. It held, in a rather precarious fashion, a
considerable portion of the mountainous inland of Catalonia--the
head-quarters were usually at Vich--but had no safe communications
with the sea, or certainty of receiving succours, though it was
intermittently in touch with Captain Codrington’s cruising squadron.
Copons, who took over command in March 1813, though less disliked than
his arbitrary and ill-tempered predecessor Lacy, was not popular with
the Catalans. They would have liked to see their local hero, the Baron
de Eroles, who had been in charge of the principality for some months
after Lacy’s departure, made captain-general[459]. Weak in numbers
as it was, the Army of Catalonia could obviously do no more than
detain and keep employed General Decaen’s French army of occupation,
which had more than double its strength. The garrisons of Barcelona,
Tarragona, Figueras, Lerida, and Tortosa absorbed 13,000 of Decaen’s
men. But he had 15,000 more available for field service, and his
flying columns often put Copons in danger, for the Catalan army had to
scatter its cantonments far and wide in order to live, and a sudden
hostile concentration might easily cut off some fraction of it, when
one part was as far north as the Ampurdam and the passes into France,
and another as far east as the Aragonese border[460]. Normally the
Catalans employed themselves in cutting the communications between the
great fortresses, with an occasional foray into Roussillon. Wellington
thought that they could not be better employed, and that nothing more
could be expected of them. He sent them a small reinforcement of 2,000
men from the suppressed third division of the Army of Galicia, and
urged that munitions should be thrown in from the side of the sea
whenever possible.

There was little to be expected from the exertions of the Catalan
army, persevering and meritorious though they were. It remained to be
seen, however, whether something could not be done in the Principality
with external help. Here came in the main problem of the Eastern
Coast: Suchet must be kept employed at all costs, while the main
blow was being delivered by Wellington himself on the other side of
the Peninsula. Murray’s and Elio’s futile operations of April had
accomplished little: the Marshal, though frightened at first by their
movements, and though he had suffered the bloody check of Castalla, had
been able to preserve his forward position on the Xucar: he retained
complete possession of the Valencian coast-land, and his army was
intact as a striking force. If, during the forthcoming campaign north
of the Douro, he chose to draw off his main force towards Aragon, and
to come in to join the King, there was at present nothing on foot
that could stop him from such a course. Wellington resolved that this
possibility must be averted, by giving the Marshal a problem of his
own, which should absorb all his attention, and keep him from thinking
of his neighbour’s needs. And this was all the more easy because Suchet
was notoriously a selfish commander, who thought more of his own
viceroyalty and his own military reputation than of the general cause
of France: his intercepted dispatches, of which Wellington had a fair
selection in his file of cyphers, showed that he was always ready to
find plausible excuses for keeping to his own side of the Peninsula.

The plan which Wellington formulated for the use of Sir John Murray,
in two dispatches dated on the 14th and 16th of April, was one which
depended entirely on the judicious use of naval power. The British
fleet being completely dominant in the Mediterranean, and Murray having
at his disposition the large squadron of transports which had brought
his troops from Sicily, it was clearly possible to land as many men
as the transports could carry, at any point on the immensely long
coast-line of Valencia and Catalonia that might be selected. They would
have a local superiority on the selected point until the French troops,
dispersed in many garrisons and cantonments, could mass in sufficient
strength to attack them: and meanwhile the Catalan army would join
Murray. If the French should draw together in overwhelming power, the
expedition could, if proper precautions were taken, re-embark before
its position became dangerous. The farther north that the landing
took place, the more inconvenient would it be for Suchet, who would
obviously have to draw on his field army in Valencia for numbers that
would enable him to deal with the Anglo-Sicilian force. But the moment
that Suchet should be forced to deplete his field army in the South,
which was already too weak for the task set it, the Spaniards could
advance on the line of the Xucar, and make a dash at Valencia during
the Marshal’s absence. In order to give them an irresistible numerical
preponderance over the divisions that Suchet might leave behind him,
Del Parque should bring up the Andalusian army to reinforce Elio’s
Murcians. Between them they would have some 30,000 regular troops,
besides the bands of the Empecinado and Duran, who would operate on the
side of the mountains against the French rear. It would be hard if such
an accumulation of force could not thrust back the thinned line of the
enemy on to and beyond Valencia.

Finally, the point at which the expeditionary force was to make its
thrust was to be Tarragona, which was known to be in a state of bad
repair, and thinly garrisoned, while it had also the advantage of being
a very isolated post, and remote both from Decaen’s head-quarters at
Gerona, and from Suchet’s at Valencia. Moreover, it was conveniently
placed for communication with the Catalan army, but separated by
difficult defiles both from Tortosa southward and Barcelona northward,
at which French relieving forces would have to gather.

If the whole plan worked, and Tarragona were to fall in a few days, the
Catalan army would once more have a safe debouch to the sea, and the
Allies would gain a foothold such as they had never owned north of the
Ebro since 1811, while at the same time Valencia ought to fall into
the hands of Elio and Del Parque during Suchet’s enforced absence. But
supposing that Tarragona held out firmly, and Decaen and Suchet united
to relieve it, the expeditionary force could get away unharmed, and
meanwhile Valencia ought to have been taken. And even if the blow at
Valencia failed also, yet at least the whole French army on the East
Coast would be occupied for a month or more, and would certainly not be
able to spare a single man to help King Joseph or Jourdan.

As we shall see, a long series of blunders, for which Murray was
mainly responsible, though Elio and Del Parque each took his share
in the muddle, prevented all Wellington’s schemes for active profit
from coming to a successful end. Nevertheless, the main purpose was
achieved--not a Frenchman from the East Coast took any share in the
campaign of Vittoria.

To descend to details. Murray was directed to ship off every man of the
Alicante army for whom he could find transport, provided that the total
of infantry and artillery embarked should not fall short of 10,000 of
all ranks. He was to take with him both the Anglo-Sicilians and as many
of Whittingham’s Spaniards as could be carried: if the ships sufficed,
he might take all or some of Roche’s Spaniards also. Less than 10,000
men must not sail--the force would then be too small to cause Suchet to
detach troops from Valencia. Elio and Del Parque would remain behind,
with such (if any) of Roche’s and Whittingham’s battalions as could
not be shipped. They were to keep quiet, till they should learn that
Suchet had weakened his forces in Valencia. When it became certain that
the French opposite them were much reduced in numbers, they were to
advance, always taking care to turn the enemy’s positions rather than
to make frontal attacks upon them.

If, which was quite possible, Murray should fail to take Tarragona,
and should find very large French forces gathering around him, such as
he and Copons could not reasonably hope to hold in check, he was to
re-embark, and bring the Expeditionary Force back to the kingdom of
Valencia, landing it at such a point on the coast as should put him in
line with the front reached by Elio and Del Parque in their advance.

There was a subsidiary set of directions for a policy to be
carried out if the transports available at Alicante should be found
insufficient to move so many as 10,000 men. But as the shipping
proved enough to carry 14,000, these directions have only an academic
interest. In this case Murray and Elio were to threaten the line
of the Xucar frontally, while Del Parque turned it on the side of
the mountains of the interior. Duran and Villacampa were to devote
themselves to cutting the line of communications between Suchet and the
King. In this way employment would be found for all the French on the
East Coast, for Copons was to receive a reinforcement of 3,000 men, and
was to keep Decaen on the move by raids and forays.

Finally, and this clause governed the whole of the instructions, ‘the
General Officers at the head of the troops must understand that the
success of all our endeavours in the ensuing campaign depends on _none
of the corps being beaten_. They must not attack the enemy in strong
positions: I shall forgive _anything_ excepting that one of the corps
should be beaten and dispersed.’ Wellington afterwards said that
this warning was intended for Elio and Del Parque only, but it had a
deleterious effect during the ensuing operations on all the actions
of the timid and wavering Murray. To say to such an officer that it
would be a sin not to be forgiven if he let his corps get beaten under
any circumstances, was to drive him to a policy of absolute cowardice.
Wellington was an austere master, and the mental effect of such a
threat was to make Murray resolve that he would not take even small
and pardonable risks. The main idea that he had in his head in May
and June 1813 was that he ‘must not allow his corps to be beaten and
dispersed.’ Hence, like the unprofitable servant in the parable, he
was resolved to wrap it up in a napkin, and have it ready to return
to his master intact--though thereby he might condemn himself to make
no worthy use of it whatever while it was in his hands. The threat of
the Commander-in-Chief might have been addressed profitably to Robert
Craufurd; when administered to John Murray it produced terror and a
sort of mental paralysis.

It is true that Murray’s weakness of will and instability of purpose
were so great that he would probably, in any case, have made a very
poor game from the splendid cards put into his hand. But that the
Tarragona expedition ended in the discreditable fiasco which we shall
have to narrate, was undoubtedly the result in part of the impression
which Wellington’s orders produced on his wavering mind. Yet,
contemptible as his conduct of operations was, still Suchet was kept
employed in the East and gave no help to King Joseph. That much was
secured by Wellington’s knowledge of how sea-power can be used.

By the 1st of May everything should have been ready, but the late
spring and the slow-moving pontoons delayed the start. On the
12th-13th-14th, however, every soldier, British and Portuguese, was
ready to march. Every available unit was being brought up--there
remained behind only the fever-ridden Guards’ brigade at Oporto; the
weak 77th, which provided, along with one Veteran Battalion, a skeleton
garrison for Lisbon; three Portuguese line regiments, two in Elvas,
one in Abrantes, and the dismounted dragoons of the same nation, who
had not taken the field for three years: only D’Urban’s and Campbell’s
squadrons marched in 1813. The infantry consisted of 56 British and
53 Portuguese battalions--making about 67,000 bayonets. The British
battalions were of very unequal size--a few as low as 450 men, a few
others as strong as 900: the average was 700. The Portuguese battalions
were rather weaker, some of the regiments never having recovered from
the privations of the Burgos retreat, and did not exceed on an average
500 bayonets or 550 of all ranks. Of cavalry there were 22 regiments,
of which four only were Portuguese--total 8,000 sabres. Of artillery
there were 102 guns, in seventeen batteries, of which three were
Portuguese and one belonged to the King’s German Legion[461]. Adding
Engineers, Staff Corps, Wagon Train, &c., the whole represented 81,000
men of all ranks and all arms.

SECTION XXXVI: CHAPTER II

OPERATIONS OF HILL’S COLUMN: MAY 22-JUNE 3

The concentration of the southern wing of Wellington’s army for the
great advance was in some ways a more difficult, in others an easier,
problem than the concentration of the northern wing.

On the one hand, the distances from which the various elements of
Hill’s force were to be drawn were in many cases shorter than those of
Graham’s force; the roads were well known to all the troops, who had
used them repeatedly in their moves up and down the Spanish-Portuguese
frontier in 1811-12; and, though poor enough, they were on the whole
better than those of the Tras-os-Montes, which the northern column had
to employ. No part of the British army had tried these latter routes
since the pursuit of Soult in 1809, and few remembered how bad they
were. But, on the other hand, the concentration of the southern column
was from points more remote from each other than those of the northern:
the divisions of the latter had all been collected in the Douro country
during the course of the spring, and started on their final march from
a single area: moreover, they were moving well inside Portugal, by
routes very remote from the enemy. But the larger half of the southern
force had to be brought up from a region far distant from that where
the smaller half was cantoned in May. For Hill’s two divisions, the
British 2nd and the Portuguese independent division (so long commanded
by Hamilton, but now under Silveira, the Conde de Amarante), had been
sent back to the borders of Estremadura at the end of the Burgos
campaign, and were lying, much scattered, at points so remote from each
other as Coria, Plasencia, Bejar, Bohoyo, and Brozas. Morillo’s Spanish
division, so often associated before with Hill, was even farther off,
south of the Tagus, in the Caçeres-Alcantara country. All these troops
would have to move up, in order to join Wellington, by routes not
very remote from the French division at Avila, which (as it will be
remembered) had tried to beat up Hill’s winter-quarters as late as the
preceding February. And there was a chance that, if the enemy were
alert and well-informed, he might try to block Hill’s march, by coming
out from the Puente de Congosto or some such point. If Wellington had
only known it, the French higher command had actually been fearing that
Hill might make a stroke at Avila by some of the passes leading from
the upper Tormes to the upper Adaja, and was nervous about this line of
country.

The plan for the concentration of the southern force was that Hill
should unite the 2nd Division, Morillo’s Spaniards, and Long’s
Cavalry[462] at Bejar, and then march by the pass through the Sierra
de Francia to Miranda de Castanar and Tamames. Silveira, with the
independent Portuguese division, was to take a parallel route farther
west, by the pass of Perales, Peñaparda, and Moras Verdes, to the same
point[463]. These troops on arriving near Tamames would find themselves
in touch with another column, which was already on the ground where
operations were to begin. It consisted of the Light Division, which
had been cantoned on the Coa and Agueda during the winter, and Victor
Alten’s, Fane’s, and Robert Hill’s cavalry brigades--the last-named
a unit new to the army, and lately arrived from Lisbon: it consisted
of six squadrons from the three regiments of Household Cavalry. To
join these British troops came Julian Sanchez’s Castilian lancers--now
reckoned regular cavalry and not a _partida_--and Carlos de España’s
Castilian division, which had been wintering in the valleys above
Ciudad Rodrigo. When united, the whole strength of the southern wing of
Wellington’s army would be about 30,000 sabres and bayonets, including
only five brigades of British infantry, the equivalent of four brigades
of Portuguese, and two Spanish divisions. The cavalry was very strong
in proportion--this was intentional, as Wellington intended to keep
out in his front such a strong cavalry screen that the enemy should
have no chance of discovering for some time that the column was not
the main Anglo-Portuguese army, but in fact a demonstrating force. The
real strength of his army, six of his old eight divisions, was marching
under Graham to turn the line of the Douro, far to the north.

On the 22nd Wellington abandoned his head-quarters at Freneda, where he
had stopped ever since his return from Cadiz in January, and rode out
to Ciudad Rodrigo; the Light Division and three cavalry brigades had
preceded him to Santi Espiritus, ten miles in front, where they were in
touch with Silveira’s Portuguese, who formed Hill’s left-hand column,
and had reached Tamames. Hill himself with the 2nd Division was a march
behind Silveira: Morillo’s Spaniards keeping more to the right, on the
road along the mountains, was moving from Los Santos and Fuenteroble,
by the track which leads straight to Salamanca from the direct south.
Far out on the left Julian Sanchez’s lancers were feeling their way
towards Ledesma and watching the western flank.

On the 24th the union of the forces was complete, and the news that
came from all quarters was satisfactory. Villatte was in Salamanca,
with no more than his own infantry division and one regiment of cavalry
[464]: he had small detachments on his flanks at Ledesma and Alba de
Tormes, but no friends nearer than Daricau at Zamora; and for Daricau
full employment was about to be found, since Graham’s great column was
marching straight upon him. It was pretty certain that King Joseph
had not yet ordered the general concentration which was the only
thing that could save him from destruction. The French division at
Avila had not moved: Madrid was being held, and as late as the 20th
Maransin’s brigade had been at Toledo, and some of the Avila division
at Monbeltran on the borders of Estremadura. The map showed, therefore,
that the Army of the South could not possibly meet on the Tormes in
time to succour Villatte, who would have either to retreat or to be
destroyed. And Villatte being driven off eastward on Cantalpino, or
northward on Toro, the junction of the two wings of Wellington’s army
at or near Zamora was certain.

But haste was necessary, wherefore the army advanced by very long
marches, through the devastated country over which it had passed in
such different conditions seven months back. On the 25th, head-quarters
were at Matilla, with the infantry advancing in three parallel
columns, the Light Division on the high road to Salamanca, Hill and
Silveira to the right, Morillo still farther out, making for Alba de
Tormes. The satisfactory news came in that Villatte had withdrawn
his detachment from Ledesma, which indicated that he did not intend
to keep touch with Daricau at Zamora, so that the passage of the
Douro would be simplified[465]. A very long march on the 26th brought
matters to a crisis. Victor Alten’s cavalry pushing for Salamanca
bridge, and Fane’s for the fords which lie above the town, found that
Villatte had just evacuated it, after barricading and obstructing
its exits, but was visible on the heights above the fords of Santa
Marta (one of Wellington’s old positions of June 1812) in line of
battle. His delay in retreating is censured equally by Jourdan and by
Wellington--apparently he wished to be certain that he was not being
imposed upon by a mere cavalry demonstration, and had a serious force
opposite him: moreover, he was waiting to pick up his detachment from
Alba de Tormes, which he had only just ordered to join him, when he
heard that Long’s cavalry and Morillo were moving on that place.

On seeing the French in position the British cavalry pushed on with
all speed, Alten through Salamanca city, Fane by the fords above,
leaving the infantry far behind them, but hoping to detain the enemy
long enough to assure his destruction. Realizing over-late his
danger, Villatte moved off eastward when he recognized that heavy
forces were concentrating upon him, and threatening his retreat. He
marched not for Toro, but due east by roads parallel with the Tormes.
‘It is rather extraordinary,’ wrote Wellington that evening, ‘that
he should have marched by Cabrerizos and the ravine, which we used
to think so bad for even a horse, and thence by Aldea Lengua[466].’
At any rate the two cavalry brigades caught him up not far from
Aldea Lengua, and, after scattering his rearguard of dragoons, rode
in upon his infantry, which were marching hard in close column. The
tactical conditions were exactly the same as those which had been seen
during the retreat of Picton and the 3rd Division from El Bodon to
Fuente Grimaldo in September 1811. The brigadiers, after trying some
partial and ineffective charges[467], judged it useless to attack
steady and unbroken infantry in solid order, and contented themselves
with following the column at a cautious distance and picking up
stragglers--just as Montbrun had done in 1811 on the way to Fuente
Grimaldo. Fane’s horse-artillery battery got up, and put in some
damaging shots on the rear battalions, but they closed up and hurried
on. The day was hot, many of the French fell out of the ranks exhausted
and were gleaned up on the way. Their divisional ammunition train got
jammed in a hollow road and was captured--the leading caisson had been
overturned and blocked the exit of the rest. But the main body of
the infantry held on its way in a solid mass, and after five miles,
Wellington, who had just ridden up, ordered Fane and Alten to desist
from the pursuit. Villatte, therefore, got off, leaving behind him a
couple of hundred prisoners, and some scores of men who had fallen
dead from sunstroke and over-exertion, or had been knocked over by
the round-shot of Gardiner’s H.A. battery[468]. This was one more
example of the incapacity of cavalry unsupported to deal with unbroken
infantry, of which we have had to give so many previous instances. The
only exception to the rule was the extraordinary achievement of Bock’s
heavy German dragoons at Garcia Hernandez on the day after the battle
of Salamanca. Clearly Villatte waited too long, and should never have
allowed himself to be caught so near Salamanca. He got off better
than he deserved[469], and picked up his detachment from Alba, which
came in upon him from the right a few miles farther on, beyond Babila
Fuente, cautiously pursued by Long’s Light Dragoons. The column went
out of sight, retreating on Cantalpino, not on Toro--one more proof to
Wellington that the enemy was not going to attempt to strengthen the
line of the Douro, but to concentrate somewhere about Medina del Campo
or Valladolid.

The various infantry columns reached the neighbourhood of Salamanca on
the evening of the 26th, and crossed the Tormes, some by the bridge,
some by fords, next day. They were ordered to take up the position
facing north and east on the heights beyond the city which Wellington
had held against Marmont in June 1812. The Light Division was on the
left, the 2nd Division in the centre, Silveira’s Portuguese on the
right at Cabrerizos, Morillo on the upper Tormes at Machacon with a
detachment in Alba. The cavalry patrolled towards Zamora, Toro, the
fords of Fresno on the Douro, and also eastward toward the Guarena.
Hill now halted for six days--it was Wellington’s intention, now that
he had displayed himself in force at Salamanca, and set all the lines
of French intelligence quivering, that the enemy should conclude that
his great attack was to be delivered between the Douro and the Tormes,
and he hoped that they would attempt to parry it by a concentration
in the region of Valladolid--Toro for the defence of the line of the
Douro, or perhaps (but this was less likely) by a counter-offensive
south of the Douro from the direction of Medina del Campo, so as to
take him in flank and prevent his further progress northward. Either of
these moves would fall in with his desires, since his real intention
was to turn the line of the Douro much lower down, in the direction
of Zamora, by means of Graham’s corps, which was about to start from
Braganza and Miranda on the very day of the occupation of Salamanca,
and was due to arrive on the Esla, behind Zamora, on the 30th. It
pleased him well that Villatte should have retreated due east, that the
cavalry found no hostile forces south of the Douro in the direction of
either Zamora or Toro, and that it was reported that there was only one
French infantry division holding those towns.

Having allowed time for the enemy to get full knowledge of his presence
at Salamanca, and to act upon it--it was inevitable that they should
regard the place where he had shown himself as the base of his future
operations--Wellington made ready to transfer himself rapidly and
secretly to the other and stronger wing of his army, which Graham was
now conducting against the extreme western flank of the French line.
On May 28th he handed over the command of the southern wing to Hill,
and announced his own departure. The orders given to Sir Rowland were
that he was, unless the unexpected happened, to make ready to march on
the Douro at Zamora the moment that he should receive news that Graham
had crossed the Esla[470]. Bridges should be ready for him, and the
fortunate disappearance of the enemy’s horse from the region of Ledesma
made the rapid transmission of information between the two wings
certain.

There was one possibility to be considered. Though Wellington was
convinced that the French would concentrate north of the Douro, in the
direction of Valladolid and Medina de Rio Seco, it was just conceivable
that they might take the other course of concentrating south of the
river, round Medina del Campo, and marching straight on Salamanca with
all the troops that could be hastily drawn together. It was impossible
for them to gather their whole force in the few days that would be at
their disposition; but conceivably they might think it worth while to
make a counter-stroke with such divisions as could be got together in
haste. It is interesting to know that such an idea did flash through
Jourdan’s mind for a moment, only to be rejected by King Joseph on
the advice of the other generals[471]. Should the French march on
the Tormes, a grave responsibility would be placed on Hill’s head.
He was told to give them battle ‘if he was strong enough’--i. e. to
judge their force according to the best information to be had, not
an easy thing, but Hill was pre-eminently clear-headed and averse to
unnecessary risks. Should they be too numerous, he was not to retire
on Rodrigo by the route by which Wellington had come, but to throw up
his communication with that fortress, and move off in the direction
of Zamora, carrying out at all costs the plan for the junction of the
two wings of the army[472]. Nothing was to remain behind to cover
the Ciudad Rodrigo road and the Portuguese frontier but the single
Spanish division of Carlos de España: all convoys on the march from
Salamanca were to be turned off towards Ledesma and Zamora. It might
look perilous to leave Central Portugal unprotected, but Wellington was
sure that the enemy would be so distracted by his great movement north
of the Douro, that they would not dare to advance on Ciudad Rodrigo
and Almeida, to strike at his old line of communications. Moreover, it
would not matter if they did, for his new line of communication was now
entirely north of the Douro, and Oporto, not Lisbon, would be his base.

On the 29th at dawn Wellington rode off to the north-west, almost
unattended, and Hill’s responsibility began. It was not to turn out a
heavy one, since (as his chief had foreseen) the enemy was not in the
least thinking of taking up the offensive, but was rather expecting a
continuation of the British advance from Salamanca. It did not come,
and before the French had made up their minds as to what the halt of
the southern column might mean, they were attacked on the 30th by the
northern column, whose existence had hitherto been hidden from them.
Hill therefore had only to wait for Wellington’s directions to march
northward, when the date and route should be given. These orders
did not come till the 2nd of June, so that the southern corps had
to remain for a week in its own cantonments round Salamanca, doing
nothing more than watch the French, north and east, by means of cavalry
reconnaissances.

We must now turn to the operations of the more important northern
corps, which crossed the Portuguese frontier on the 26th, four days
after Wellington had started out in person from Ciudad Rodrigo.

SECTION XXXVI: CHAPTER III

OPERATIONS OF GRAHAM’S COLUMN: MAY 26-JUNE 3

On May 18th Wellington had issued his final orders for the advance of
the great turning force under Graham, all of whose troops were due to
converge on the remote corner of Portugal between Braganza and Miranda
de Douro between the 21st and 27th of the month. Many of them came from
long distances, and had to start early--the 1st Division from Vizeu as
early as May 13th; and left behind it, as hopelessly inefficient from
sickness, Howard’s brigade of the Guards, reduced to a strength of 800
bayonets by the fever which had ravaged its ranks during the spring.
Shifted from Vizeu to Oporto for the benefit of the milder climate,
this brigade could not be moved for another month, and missed the
campaign of Vittoria. The 5th, 6th, and 7th Divisions left their winter
quarters in the Beira on the 14th, the 3rd and 4th, who were close to
the Douro or actually on it, at Moimenta and St. João de Pesqueira,
could afford not to move till the 16th. To secure a rapid movement for
the columns which had farthest to go, and to save any congestion of
traffic at the usual ferries of passage on the Douro--bridges there
were none--Wellington had collected a large number of barges and river
boats at Peso de Regoa, St. João de Pesqueira, and the Barca of Poçinho
near the confluence of the Coa and the Douro.

The arrangement of the marches was calculated to allow the heavy
infantry columns to make use as far as possible of the only two good
roads in the Tras-os-Montes, of which the one goes from the Douro to
Braganza, the other to Miranda. The 1st and 5th Divisions crossed
by the much-used ferry of Peso de Regoa near Lamego, and marched by
Villa Real and Mirandella on two separate routes to the neighbourhood
of Braganza[473]. The 3rd Division crossed the ferry at St. João de
Pesqueira and went by Villaflor and Vinhas to Vimioso, half-way between
Braganza and Miranda. All these columns had some cross-road marching
to do, where they were forced to cut across from one _chaussée_ to
another. The third column, the 4th, 6th, and 7th Divisions, more
fortunate, was on the high road nearly all the way: after crossing the
Douro at the ferry of Poçinho, they marched from Torre de Moncorvo
by the great _chaussée_ to the frontier town of Miranda and the
neighbouring village of Malhadas, where they were due to arrive on
three successive days (24th, 25th, 26th May). This column was followed
by the all-important pontoon-train, and by the reserve of siege
artillery--Portuguese 18-pounders under Major Ariaga[474]--as well as
by the main ammunition train.

The three British cavalry brigades which Wellington had allotted to the
great turning movement, those of Anson, Bock, and Ponsonby, had been
cantoned in the winter months in the lower Beira, along the coast, and
in the valley of the Vouga. Before the infantry had moved, they had all
three been brought north of the Douro about May 1, through Oporto, and
billeted in Braga, Guimaraens, San Tyrso, and neighbouring villages. On
May 12th orders set them moving eastward to the Braganza country--their
march was much more fatiguing than that of the infantry divisions, for
there are no high roads of any value going directly from the Braga
country to the direction of Miranda and Braganza--all run north and
south, not east and west. Though allotted short daily stages of only
three or four leagues, the cavalry found the route fatiguing--the
mountain cross-roads were more like staircases than paths--the horse
artillery accompanying the brigades had in some cases to swerve off
from its itinerary and take circuitous turns[475]: in others it had to
be man-handled down precipitous tracks. The only horsemen who had an
easy job were the Portuguese brigade of D’Urban, who had been wintering
at Braganza, and had only to advance a few miles to the frontier, and
Grant’s newly-arrived Hussar Brigade which, coming from the south,
followed the infantry column that went by Torre de Moncorvo to Miranda,
along the high road all the way.

Pack’s and Bradford’s Portuguese infantry, who (like D’Urban’s
dragoons) had wintered north of the Douro, at Penafiel and Villa Real
respectively, had a short way to go, and were timed to arrive at
Braganza before the heavy columns from the south came up.

Portugal and Spain, as is well known, turn their backs on each other
for the greater part of their long frontier, and though there were
decent _chaussées_ from the Douro to Braganza and Miranda they stopped
short at the boundary line. From thence onward there were no good roads
till Zamora was reached, and those bad ones which existed were country
tracks, only useful for operations in the summer. That they could be so
used, for all arms, in May and June, was one of Wellington’s secrets,
which he trusted that the French would never guess. For both parties
during the war had left alone this remote corner of the Peninsula. The
only operations seen near it had been Soult’s spring campaign of 1809,
and the forays of Silveira’s militia when they occasionally raided
towards Zamora.

Country roads, however, existed between the Sierra de Culebra and the
bend of the Douro between Zamora and Miranda, and the whole detail of
Graham’s march depended on their practicability: Wellington had caused
the whole region as far as the Esla to be explored by his intelligence
officers, and the report had been that the movement of all arms was
possible in the summer. The permanent bridges of the Esla, from
Benavente down to its confluence with the Douro, had been broken long
ago; but there was a certain number of fords, and convenient places for
the laying of temporary bridges. By the end of May it was calculated
that the spring floods due to the melting of snows in the Galician and
Asturian mountains would be over, and that the river would be down to
its normal low summer level. On these facts depended the success of
the operation, which must be a rapid one, in order that the French
might have no time for concentration. But Wellington’s provident
mind had taken into consideration the possibility of unexpected
high-water, and as a matter of precaution he had ordered up his main
pontoon-train from the Tagus. To get the cumbrous pontoons, 33 of
them, from Abrantes to Miranda de Douro by land was no small matter.
They travelled slowly on specially constructed wheeled trucks[476] by
Castello Branco, Sabugal, and Pinhel, crossed the Douro at Villa Nova
de Foscoa, and were then brought up on the Miranda high road as far as
Villa Velha, where they were halted for a short time, as Wellington
was not quite certain whether he would not lay them at Espadacinta on
the middle Douro, rather than farther up, beyond Miranda. For across
the pontoons he intended to lay the main line of communication between
Graham’s and Hill’s wings of the army, and if the latter failed to get
forward on the Tormes and to open up touch with Graham via Zamora, it
might be necessary to throw the bridge at some lower point, such as
Espadacinta[477]. On the 20th he made up his mind that 14 pontoons
should be sent to Espadacinta, while the remaining 19 should proceed
to Miranda, and from thence follow the course of the Douro to the
point where they would be laid--probably the ferry of Villa al Campo,
a mile below the confluence of the Esla and the Douro. The nineteen
all-important trucks with their burdens reached Miranda safely, and
moved close behind the right-hand column of Graham’s army during its
advance.

Down to May 26 all the British troops had been kept behind the
Portuguese frontier, nothing having been sent beyond it save D’Urban’s
Portuguese dragoons, who formed a screen some little way on the Spanish
side. Their appearance would, in the event of a French cavalry raid
from Zamora, create no suspicion of there being in the rear anything
more than the usual Tras-os-Montes militia. Nor could spies draw any
deduction from their presence.

But on the 26th the whole of Graham’s army[478] started out in three
columns arranged as follows:

1. From Braganza marched, as the northern column, Anson’s light and
Ponsonby’s heavy dragoon brigades, preceding the 1st Infantry division
and Pack’s Portuguese independent brigade. Crossing the frontier river,
the Manzanas, at fords by Nuez, they were ordered to move on Tabara in
four marches, by the country road through Sesnande.

2. From Outeiro and Vimioso marched, as the central column, following
D’Urban’s Portuguese light horse (who were already over the border),
Bock’s heavy German dragoons accompanied by the 3rd and 5th Divisions
and Bradford’s independent Portuguese brigade. They were directed to
move by Alcanizas in four marches on Losilla, five miles south of
Tabara.

3. From Miranda de Douro marched, as the right column, close to the
river, the 4th, 6th, and 7th Divisions; their cavalry, Grant’s hussar
brigade, overtook them on the second day. Having a shorter distance to
cover than the other two columns, their van was to reach Carvajales on
the 28th, in three marches. On the 30th the pontoons, which followed
in their rear, were to reach the ferry of Villa al Campo, where it was
intended that they should be laid down across the Douro.

The left-hand or northern column was to get into touch with the Army of
Galicia--Barcena’s and Losada’s divisions and Penne Villemur’s cavalry,
about 12,000 strong, who, marching from Astorga on the 26th, were to be
at the broken bridge of Benavente on the Esla on the 29th-30th.

It will be seen that Graham’s force was marching on a very compact
front, the central column being not more than five or six miles distant
from each of the flanking ones, so that the whole could be assembled
for action, in the unlikely event of opposition being met, in a very
few hours. The cavalry screen of five brigades was so strong that
it was impossible for any French horse which might be in the Zamora
direction to pierce it, or discover what was behind. The whole army
counted not less than 42,000 sabres and bayonets, exclusive of the
Galicians--as strong an Anglo-Portuguese force as that with which
Wellington had fought the battle of Salamanca, and outnumbering
considerably the other wing of Wellington’s army, which was marching
south of the Douro.

By an extraordinary piece of luck the attention of the French higher
command was completely distracted at the moment from the Esla front,
as a result of the last authentic reports received from that direction.
For as late as May 20th Reille had sent Boyer’s division of dragoons
across the Esla at Benavente, to make a sweep to the north and west in
the direction of La Baneza and the road to Puebla Senabria. They had
gone almost as far as Astorga without meeting troops of any kind; and
reported that some of the Galician army were at Astorga, but that they
had heard of no British save two or three commissaries, who had been
buying up barley and wheat in the valley of the Tera, which were to be
sent back into Portugal[479]. Reille drew the natural deduction, that
there was nothing stirring in this part of the world, and Boyer, after
thoroughly destroying the bridge of Castro Gonzalo outside Benavente,
went back to his former cantonments east of the Esla. If the raid had
been made a week later, he could not have failed to bring news of the
advance of the Galicians, and would probably have heard of Graham’s
movements from Braganza and Miranda de Douro. But by the 27th all the
attention of the French generals was already distracted to Wellington’s
march against Salamanca, at the head of Hill’s column, and the Esla
front received little notice. There remained opposite the advancing
troops of Graham only Daricau’s infantry division of the Army of the
South, with a brigade each at Zamora and Toro, and three regiments of
Digeon’s dragoons watching the Esla from San Cebrian to its juncture
with the Douro, and at the same time keeping a look-out southward
towards Salamanca. For the cavalry of Hill’s column was already on the
27th-28th pushing out northward towards Zamora as well as eastward
towards the Guarena. On the 28th this danger began to prey so much on
Daricau’s mind that he withdrew all his infantry save four companies
from Zamora, leaving Digeon’s dragoons practically unsupported to
watch rather than to defend the line of the Esla. Urgent requests were
sent to the cavalry of the Army of Portugal, farther north along that
river, to keep touch with Digeon and help him if necessary.

The cavalry at the head of Graham’s three columns reached their
destinations--Tabara, Losilla, Carvajales, on May 28th--the infantry
on the 29th. No French parties were found on the hither side of the
Esla, and though the peasantry reported that there were vedettes on
the farther bank, none were seen. Exploration of the course of the
Esla, however, led to the vexatious discovery that the river was very
high, owing to torrential rain on the night of the 28th-29th, and
that some of the fords intended for use were probably impracticable
for cavalry, most certainly so for infantry. Graham, though vexed at
the delay, refused to push across the water with horsemen alone, and
waited for the pontoon-train--due on the 30th--to come up, resolving to
lay it across the Esla, and not across the Douro as had been at first
intended. Meanwhile the French showed no signs of life on the 30th--it
had been feared that Daricau might come out of Zamora, only eight
miles away, with infantry and guns, to oppose the passage. But, as we
have seen, he had really departed on the 28th, and there was nothing
opposite Graham but a cavalry screen. The main attack seemed to the
French generals to be on the side of Salamanca, where Wellington was
known to have been present on May 27th. Digeon had discovered on the
29th that there were British troops on the opposite bank of the Esla,
but had no notion of their strength or purpose[480].

But if Wellington’s presence marked the danger-point, it was
now suddenly displaced. On the morning of the 29th the British
Commander-in-Chief had gone off on one of his not unusual lightning
rides. Starting early from Salamanca, he rode by Ledesma to the Douro
opposite Miranda--over 50 miles--before dark. Facing Miranda there is
no road on the Spanish side, the river descends fiercely in something
like cataracts, with high rocks on its eastern bank. The only
communication from shore to shore was by a rope and basket contrivance,
worked by a windlass, and stretched high above the water. By this
strange method Wellington crossed the Douro--what would have been the
results of the campaign of 1813 if the ropes had been rotten? He slept
at Miranda, started off at dawn on the 30th and was at Carvajales--20
miles away--by the afternoon, not so tired but that he could write
dispatches to Hill and Giron that night, and settle with Graham the
dispositions for next morning.

Wellington’s first decision was that the pontoons, which had come up
on the 30th, should be laid not on the Douro at Villa al Campo, but on
the Esla opposite Almendra, where the high road from Puebla Senabria to
Zamora crossed the river. But at the same time attempts were to be made
to get cavalry (and infantry if possible) across the water at other
points.

At dawn on the 31st Grant’s hussar brigade entered the ford of
Almendra, where it was intended that the bridge should be laid; each
man of the leading squadron had an infantry soldier of the 7th Division
hanging on to his stirrup. At the same time Bock’s German dragoons
and D’Urban’s Portuguese essayed the ford at Pallomilla, opposite
Montemarta, four miles up-stream. The hussars crossed with great
trouble--the bottom was stony, the water had risen in the night, some
horses lost their footing--many of the infantry stepped into holes, or
stumbled and were carried away. The majority were saved, but ten of the
51st and rather more of the Brunswickers were swept right down-stream
and drowned. Yet, despite mishaps, the hussars got over, and, advancing
rapidly, surprised the French cavalry picquet at the village of Val
de Perdrices, a little way up-stream, taking it whole--an officer and
32 men. This was certainly about the most extraordinary instance of
carelessness on the part of outposts during the war, and reflects as
much discredit on Digeon, whose dragoons were supposed to be watching
the lower Esla, as on the wretched officer in charge of the picquet.
How was it possible that such a large body as a brigade could approach
in daylight the best-known ford of the neighbourhood, at a spot where
the course of the high road showed the convenience of the passage,
without finding a single vedette on the bank? And why was such an
important point watched (or not watched) by a half-troop, instead of by
a force which could have offered at least a momentary opposition, and
have passed the alarm to its regiment, which, as Digeon’s report shows,
was at Iniesta, only four miles to the rear?

Meanwhile Bock’s Germans and D’Urban’s Portuguese dragoons had an
equally difficult, though equally unopposed, passage at the ford of
Palomilla, four miles up-stream. The river was running furiously,
and seven or eight horses and three or four men were washed away and
drowned. Anson’s light dragoons at the head of the third column had
an even worse experience at San Vincente del Barco, opposite San
Cebrian: the ford was found utterly impracticable, and the brigade was
ordered back toward Tabara: on its way it was turned off to a second
projected crossing-spot farther south. This was also discovered to be
hopeless, and finally the whole northern column was ordered to cross
at Almendra, behind the southern column. After a day’s profitless
countermarching[481], it came down thither, to find the pontoons laid,
the infantry of the southern column all across the river, and well
forward, while that of the centre column was crossing rapidly. In the
end all Graham’s troops save the leading cavalry brigades had to use
the bridge.

Meanwhile Grant’s hussars, advancing on Zamora, found that the French
had evacuated it in haste on the first news of the crossing of the
Esla. Digeon, with his two regiments of dragoons, his half-battery
of horse artillery, and the four companies of voltigeurs, had gone
off to Toro. Wellington therefore was able to occupy Zamora without
opposition on the night following the passage of the fords[482], and
moved his head-quarters thither next day. The moment that he knew that
Daricau and Digeon had absconded, he sent orders to Hill to march not
on Zamora, or the ford of Villa al Campo, as he had at first intended,
but directly on Toro, which would save twenty miles marching for the
right wing. For it was clear that Digeon and Daricau could not hold
Toro with some 6,000 men against Graham’s 40,000, now across the Esla
and in close pursuit of them. And there was no great body of French
available to reinforce them within a couple of days’ march--at most
Reille’s horse and one infantry division could have come up. On June
1st the signs were that the enemy would not stand--Digeon’s dragoons
were falling back on the Toro road--Reille’s cavalry, heard of at
Belver in the morning, had gone off eastward towards Medina del Rio
Seco in haste. Wherefore Wellington pushed on fast on that day, sending
on Graham’s columns by the two roads Zamora-Toro and Zamora-Rio Seco,
which do not diverge sufficiently to make it impossible to concentrate
the troops on them in a few hours. But caution proved unnecessary. The
French evacuated Toro in the afternoon, so that the junction-point with
Hill was safely secured, and Graham’s divisions were present in full
force next morning, to cover the passage of the southern wing across
the Douro.

Wellington moved his head-quarters to Toro on the morning of June 2nd,
and sent out his cavalry on all the roads which branch out from it:
Anson’s and Bock’s brigades going north-east occupied Vezdemarben.
Grant’s hussars pushing along the river-road toward Tordesillas came up
with Digeon’s rear at Morales, six miles outside Toro, and fell upon
it vigorously. The French dragoons--two regiments--were drawn up in
a defensive position, with a swamp in front and bridge over a ravine
behind. Grant charging furiously with the 10th Hussars and the 18th in
support on the flank, broke the front regiment, whereupon the enemy
went to the rear in disorder, and was chased for two miles, prisoners
being captured in considerable numbers. At last pursuers and pursued
ran in on the rear brigade of Daricau’s infantry, drawn up in good
order, with a battery across the road, on the heights of Pedroso del
Rey. Grant had therefore to call off his men, and to wait for the enemy
to retire, which they presently did in good order. Two officers and 208
men, all of the 16th Dragoons, were captured[483], about a hundred
of them wounded[484]; the rest were mainly taken owing to the bad
condition of their mounts, ‘raw-boned horses with evident marks of bad
provender, escort duties, and counter-marches--nearly the whole of them
had horrible sore backs.’ The 10th Hussars had only 16 casualties--one
of them an officer who had pursued incautiously and ridden into the
French infantry, by whom he was wounded and taken prisoner. This was
a good day’s record for the 10th Hussars, who started their first
Peninsular service--they had only landed in February--with a very
handsome success.

During the day of the combat of Morales Hill’s infantry had started
off from their billets in the villages ten miles north of Salamanca to
move on Toro. A forced march of over twenty miles, through Fuentesauco,
across a very bare and desolate country, brought the head of the column
down to the Douro, where they encamped among well-watered fields and
vegetable gardens. ‘Officers and men, after the long sultry day,
devoured with zest and relish the raw cabbages, onions, and melons.’
Next morning (June 3rd) the whole column began to cross the river at
Toro, the artillery and baggage by a ford no more than knee-deep, the
infantry by the fine but broken bridge. Only one arch of it had been
blown up, and a resourceful engineer, Lieutenant Pringle, had contrived
an easy method of utilizing it. A row of long ladders had been laid
against each side of the gap in the roadway: their feet inclined
together and united in the shallow water below. Long and stout planks
had then been laid across, resting at each end on the rungs of each
pair of corresponding ladders, and making a sort of platform. The men
went down the upper rungs of one set of ladders, walked a few steps
over the planks, and ascended by the rungs of the ladders on the other
side. This was rather tedious for the passage of four divisions, and
took the whole day and the following morning. But by noon on June 4
the entire army was concentrated in the vicinity of Toro on the north
bank. Its cavalry was many miles in advance, at Pedroso del Rey on the
Tordesillas road, Almaraz and Villavelid on the Rio Seco road. Parties
sent out northward had got in touch with Giron’s Galician army, which
had passed Benavente on June 1 and reached Villalpando on the 3rd, with
Penne Villemur’s squadrons out in its front.

Thus every man of Wellington’s striking force, 80,000 sabres and
bayonets, was concentrated north of Toro on the night of June 3--all
the British in a single mass, the Galicians some 18 miles off on the
flank, but easily available. Nothing was now south of the Douro save
Carlos de España’s Spanish division, left to garrison Salamanca, and
Julian Sanchez’s horse, who were searching the roads south of the
river, and had just captured a large French cavalry patrol at Castro
Nuño, near Pollos. It seemed to Wellington incredible that the enemy
would reply to his stroke at their communications by a similar stroke
at his on the Salamanca-Rodrigo line. Indeed, all reports showed them
moving north, in order to form opposite him on the north bank of
the Douro. Moreover, it was clear that they would have the greatest
difficulty in concentrating a sufficient force to fight him, for
the possession of Valladolid and the defence of the great northern
_chaussée_. The first stage of his plan had been completed with entire
success.

SECTION XXXVI: CHAPTER IV

MOVEMENTS OF THE FRENCH: MAY 22-JUNE 4

At the moment when Wellington launched his two great columns into
Spain, the French head-quarters staff was in a condition of nervous
expectation. The spring was so far advanced that it had been expected
that the Allies would have been already on the move, and their long
quiescence was supposed, very reasonably, to cover some new plan which
it was impossible to divine. The position of the French armies was very
unfavourable, entirely owing to the continued absence from the front of
the whole infantry of the Army of Portugal, which, by Napoleon’s desire
and by the detailed instructions of the Minister of War at Paris, had
been lent to the Army of the North, and sent backward into Biscay,
Navarre, and Aragon to hunt the guerrilleros. Five and a half out of
the six divisions of Reille’s command were still occupied on these
marches and counter-marches in the rear, when May was far spent, and
when the offensive of the Allies must be expected at every moment.

The French army, available for immediate operations, was therefore
short of one-third of its strength, and Jourdan and King Joseph
disliked the situation. Jourdan confesses in his Memoirs that he and
his master ought to have ordered Clausel to suspend his operations,
however incomplete they might be, and to send back all the borrowed
infantry to the valley of the Douro. But the minister’s letters
kept repeating so often that the campaign north of the Ebro must be
completed at all costs, that the King considered that he could do no
more than transmit to Paris the warnings that he was receiving, urging
on the minister that it was time to suspend those operations, and
that General Clausel should be ordered to come back in haste towards
Burgos[485]. This self-exculpation of Jourdan shows clearly enough the
miserable consequences of the system of double-command which Napoleon
had always kept up in Spain. The habit of sending orders direct from
Paris to fractions of the Army of Spain was so deeply ingrained, that
the titular Commander-in-Chief and his Chief of the Staff dared not
issue instructions of primary importance to one of the generals under
them without obtaining leave from the Emperor! And at this moment
the Emperor was not even at Paris--he had long been at the front in
Germany, and had fought the battle of Lützen on May 2. What came from
Paris was not even the orders of Napoleon, but the orders of Clarke,
transmitting his impression of the imperial will from dispatches
already many days old, which would be doubly out of date before they
reached Valladolid. The supreme master must take the responsibility of
the fact that on May 15 or May 18 his representatives in Spain were
asking for leave to modify his arrangements, by petitions which could
receive no reply--for mere reasons of space and time--till the crisis
which they were fearing had burst upon them. The whole system was
ruinous--in 1813 as it had been in 1812. The only rational method would
have been to turn over the whole conduct of affairs in Spain to some
local authority, supreme in everything and responsible for everything.
Yet stronger men than Joseph and Jourdan would perhaps have taken the
risk of offending their master, and have issued peremptory orders,
which Clausel, Foy, and the other outlying generals would probably have
obeyed.

On May 20 the distribution of the Army of Spain was as follows:
King Joseph and the 2,500 men of his guards, horse and foot, lay at
general head-quarters at Valladolid. Of the two infantry divisions of
D’Erlon’s Army of the Centre, one, that of Darmagnac, had been lent
to Reille, when all the infantry of the Army of Portugal had been
borrowed from him, and was lying at Medina de Rio Seco, in the rear of
Reille’s cavalry, who were watching from a discreet distance the Army
of Galicia and the roads in the direction of Astorga and Leon. It will
be remembered that on May 20 Reille, hearing vague rumours of allied
movements beyond the Esla, had executed a great sweep with Boyer’s
dragoons across the bridge of Benavente, and for five leagues beyond
it, had found nothing, and had reported that there were no British
troops in the direction, and no Spaniards nearer than Astorga[486].

The other division of the Army of the Centre, that of Cassagne, was at
Segovia, far south of the Douro, keeping touch with the large garrison
still left in Madrid, which, as long as it was maintained there, could
not be left in a state of absolute isolation.

Of the Army of the South, Gazan had his head-quarters at Arevalo,
not very far from the King at Valladolid, but retained with him
only Tilly’s cavalry division. The rest of his troops were woefully
dispersed. Daricau’s division and Digeon’s dragoons lay at Zamora and
Toro--nearly 100 miles from head-quarters--maintaining a loose touch
with Reille’s cavalry. Villatte--with one detached regiment of Digeon’s
dragoons to keep watch for him--was at Salamanca--fifty miles from
Daricau. Conroux, with a third division, was at Avila, with a whole
block of mountains between him and Villatte. He was supposed to be
watching Hill, and had detachments as far out as Monbeltran on the
borders of Estremadura. He was also separated from the force at Madrid
by several sierras and the formidable pass of the Guadarrama. In the
capital itself lay Leval with one more division, while the independent
brigade of Maransin[487], had been intermittently holding Toledo, and
was actually there on the 20th, in company with a brigade of light
cavalry under Pierre Soult[488]. The extreme outer flanks of the Army
of the South were as far apart therefore as Zamora and Toledo--160
miles as the crow flies--and a Spanish crow has rough country to fly
over--and each of them was some 90 miles by road from the head-quarters
in the centre.

As to the infantry of the Army of Portugal, the only element of it
which lay anywhere near head-quarters was a brigade of Maucune’s at
Palencia on the Carrion, which was guarding a large dépôt of stores and
transport. The other brigade of Maucune’s was at Burgos. Lamartinière’s
division (late that commanded for so long by Bonnet) was watching
the great _chaussée_ from Burgos by Briviesca to Miranda del Ebro,
in order to keep touch with Clausel in Navarre. Similarly Sarrut’s
division, after its long and fruitless chase of Longa, was keeping safe
the roads from Bilbao to Miranda, in order to link Foy with the main
army. Foy himself was on the shores of the Bay of Biscay, where he had
stormed Castro-Urdiales on May 12, and was trying to make an end of the
local guerrilleros. The other two divisions of Reille’s infantry were
lost to sight in the mountains of Navarre, where they were marching
and countermarching with Clausel, in pursuit of the elusive Mina.
These were the divisions of Taupin and of Barbot: the troops which
were working along with them were the two ‘active’ divisions of the
Army of the North, those of Abbé and Vandermaesen. Clausel’s great
flying column, of 15,000 men or more, was so continually on the move
through regions where cross-communication was impossible, owing to the
insurrection, that it could not be located with certainty on any given
date, or receive instruction without a delay that might run to eight or
ten days.

Obviously it would take the French army a week to concentrate on
Valladolid or Arevalo, if Wellington should be aiming at Salamanca and
the Central Douro. But if he were about to attack one of the extreme
wings, at Zamora or Madrid, the time required would be much greater.
And Joseph and Jourdan were not at all sure that the secret plan of
Wellington might not be a thrust, with Hill’s force as the spear-head,
at Madrid. One of the many false rumours sent to head-quarters was that
forage had been ordered for Long’s cavalry at Escalona on the Tietar,
many miles in front of Talavera. While another report truly chronicled
the concentration of Hill’s brigades at Bejar, and the gathering of
stores there, but interpreted their meaning as preparation for a march
on Avila by the Puente de Congosto.

Uncertain as to what was Wellington’s plan, the French Higher Command
finally resolved to await its manifestation before giving the final
orders--a system which was certain to lead to some initial loss of
territory at the opening of the campaign, since the enemy would have a
week in hand, before he could be opposed by a sufficient mass on the
line which he might select. On May 18th Jourdan ordered Gazan to push
exploring reconnaissances towards the Portuguese frontier, and, if
Wellington should be met advancing, to order Leval to evacuate Madrid,
to send forward all his cavalry to support Villatte at Salamanca, and,
when the latter should be driven in, to have his whole army ready to
receive him behind the line of the Trabancos river, except Daricau’s
division, which should remain at Toro. Reille was to bring forward
Darmagnac’s infantry from Rio Seco to support his cavalry on the Esla,
and to unite Maucune’s scattered force by calling up his rear brigade
from Burgos, so as to provide a reserve for Darmagnac. If Wellington
should advance, as was thought most probable, from Ciudad Rodrigo,
marching on Salamanca in full strength, and driving in Villatte, it
was intended to bring in all the troops of Gazan and D’Erlon to the
north bank of the Douro, and to defend the course of that river from
Toro to Tordesillas, as Marmont had done in June 1812. If the British
showed strength on the Esla, which was thought unlikely, Reille would
reinforce Daricau and Digeon with all his cavalry and the divisions
of Darmagnac and Maucune. But no definite orders were sent either
to Clausel[489] or to Foy, Sarrut, and Lamartinière--the directions
to be given them would depend on the strength which the British
displayed, and the front on which they appeared. Thus a week or more
after Wellington should have shown his hand, the two armies of the
South and Centre, with the cavalry and one infantry division of the
Army of Portugal, ought to be concentrated on the required points
north of the Douro, with the possibility of bringing up later the five
missing divisions of the Army of Portugal, and Clausel’s two disposable
divisions from the Army of the North. But these last might take a very
long time to appear, and meanwhile there would only be 45,000 infantry
and 10,000 cavalry in hand opposite Wellington[490]. Considering the
latter’s estimated numerical superiority, it seemed that he might be
brought to a stand, but hardly beaten, by the forces which the King
could collect. A defensive campaign on the Douro was really Jourdan’s
forecast of the game; it might perhaps be turned into an offensive,
when the missing divisions of the Army of Portugal and Clausel should
come up, with some 30,000 men of reinforcements.

It is a nervous business to wait for the move which finally betrays
the enemy’s intention, as every one knows who remembers August 1914.
It was probably with some feeling of relief that Gazan at Arevalo and
King Joseph at Palencia heard, on the 24th, that Wellington had passed
the Agueda on the 22nd, and was apparently marching on Salamanca in
great strength. Conroux sent in news that Hill was at the same time
marching up from Bejar northward--not turning east. The campaign
therefore, as it appeared, was to take the form which had seemed most
probable, and the hypothetical orders for concentration which had been
issued to the generals on the 18th became valid. But Gazan lost a day
in evacuating Madrid, by riding over from Arevalo to Valladolid and
formally requesting the King’s authorization for the retreat of Leval
from the capital. So the aide-de-camp bearing the dispatch of recall
only started from Valladolid on the morning of the 25th, instead of
from Arevalo on the afternoon of the 24th: it was clear therefore that
Leval would be late at the concentration point.

The other parts of the French scheme were carried out according to plan
between the 25th and the 29th. When Villatte found himself attacked
at Salamanca, and got away with some loss eastward on the 26th, he
fell back on Medina del Campo, and found waiting for him there on
the 28th Conroux’s division from Avila and the division of cavalry
which Gazan had been keeping at his head-quarters at Arevalo--Tilly’s
dragoons. D’Erlon was in march from Segovia with Cassagne’s division
and Treillard’s horse, and had reached Olmedo, only fifteen miles from
Medina, so that he would be available next day. The whole made up a
force of 16,000 foot and 4,000 horse. But Leval was late, and would not
be up for three days more, nor had Maucune’s brigade yet come down from
Burgos, while Daricau and Digeon began to look uncomfortably remote in
their position at Toro and Zamora, where only Reille could reach them.

Joseph and Jourdan had intended to take position behind the Zapardiel
on the 30th, there to demonstrate against Wellington, who ought by
this time to be coming down upon them. It was necessary to hold him in
check till Leval should have got in from Madrid to join the main body,
and then all would retire beyond the Douro, to the intended defensive
position. But this day two disquieting facts became notable: one was
that Wellington was not advancing from Salamanca: the troops that he
had brought thither had not moved since the 26th. The other was that
Digeon sent word that there were allied forces approaching the lower
Esla from the direction of Braganza, although Reille had reported ten
days back that there were absolutely no signs of allied movement from
this direction--their numbers were as yet incalculable. The suspicion,
then for the first time, arose that the Salamanca advance might be
a mere feint, despite of Wellington’s personal appearance in that
direction.

On the morning of June 1st suspicion became certainty. Digeon reported
that the British had crossed the Esla in great force, by several fords,
and that he and Daricau were retiring on Toro at once. Joseph would
have liked to go behind the Douro without delay, but could not possibly
do so until Leval, Maransin, and Pierre Soult should have come up from
the south. And the Madrid column was not due on the Douro for two more
days, owing to its late start--no fault of its own, but due to Gazan’s
dilatory conduct on May 24th.

Leval had only got the order to evacuate the capital on the 26th.
Luckily for him Maransin had come in with his flying column from
Toledo on the 21st, so that there was no need to wait to pick up this
detachment. The garrison was directed to be under arms for marching
at daybreak on the 27th, and with them went a considerable train of
_Afrancesado_ refugees, for many of Joseph’s ministers and courtiers
had refused to start by the earlier convoys, which had gone to
Valladolid in March and April, hoping that emigration might never again
become necessary. The remembrance of the miserable march to Valencia
in July 1812 weighed on their minds, and made them unwilling to face
a second _hegira_ of the same sort. Now all had to go; and quantities
of carriages, carts, wagons, and mules belonging to civilians were
mixed with, or trailed behind, the columns of Leval’s infantry. The
convoy could not travel very fast; it only reached the foot of the
mountains on the night of the 27th, crossed the Guadarrama pass on the
28th, and reached Espinar on the northern descent on the 29th. Here
Leval turned off the baggage and refugees on to the road of Segovia,
under charge of an escort commanded by General Hugo, late Governor of
Madrid. He himself with the fighting men went on to Arevalo by the
great _chaussée_, reached the Douro on the 2nd of June, and joined
Gazan at Tordesillas. The latter had crossed the river on May 31st, the
moment that it became clear that the Madrid column was not going to be
intercepted by any British force from the Salamanca direction. D’Erlon
passed the Douro only on June 2, the same day as Leval, having waited
behind to cover the arrival of the column of refugees and transport
from Madrid, which had been directed on Segovia and Cuellar.

On June 2nd therefore the south bank of the Douro had been at last
evacuated by all the French forces, but Jourdan’s and Joseph’s plan for
defending the northern bank was obviously out of date and impossible.
For Wellington was already at Toro with Graham’s 40,000 men, and there
was no means of preventing Hill’s 30,000 and the Galicians from joining
him north of the river. The Salamanca column, if only the French had
known it, was already marching north, to fall in alongside of the other
and larger mass of the allied army, and was due at Toro next day (June
3rd).

This last fact was, of course, unknown at French head-quarters on the
afternoon of June 2nd--all that had transpired was that Wellington
was at Toro with a very large force, and the Galicians close by his
flank on the Benavente road. The exact position of the imperial
army was that Gazan, with four and a half infantry divisions of the
Army of the South and all the cavalry of Digeon, Tilly, and Pierre
Soult, was concentrated on a ten-mile front between Tordesillas and
Torrelobaton: Reille, with Darmagnac’s division and Boyer’s cavalry,
was at Medina de Rio Seco, twelve miles farther north. D’Erlon, with
Cassagne’s division and Treillard’s dragoons, was at Valladolid,
fifteen miles behind Tordesillas; the King and his Guards at Cigales,
ten miles north of D’Erlon, twelve miles east of Reille. Maucune’s two
brigades had at last concentrated at Palencia--some 25 miles north of
Valladolid. There was now a very solid mass of troops, which could be
united at one spot--Torrelobaton for example--by a concentric march,
taking up one day, or could on the other hand string itself out in
a well closed-up front behind the Carrion and Pisuerga rivers, from
Palencia to Simancas, to defend the line of those streams. The force
was formidable--over 40,000 bayonets, quite 10,000 sabres. It was
physically possible either to mass and offer Wellington a battle, or
to stand fast to defend the line of the Pisuerga. But would either
course be prudent, considering that Hill could join Wellington with
ease at Toro, so that the entire Anglo-Portuguese army could be
concentrated for a general action, not to speak of the Galicians of
Giron on his flank? Exact calculations as to the allied strength were
impossible--but it would certainly exceed 70,000 men: some of the
French generals put it at 90,000. To engage in an open battle west of
the Pisuerga against such superior numbers would be insane. But what
of the idea of taking up a defensive line east of that river, in the
hope of rallying Foy, Clausel, and other outlying forces within a week
or ten days? Marmont had done well with his position behind a river in
July 1812, and had only been ruined at Salamanca because he had left
his strong line and attacked with insufficient numbers.

There was much debate at head-quarters on the afternoon of June 2.
Several policies were discussed, even, as it would appear, a desperate
suggestion of Jourdan’s to bring the whole army back southward across
the Douro, to Medina del Campo and Olmedo, and defy Wellington to
cross its front so as to cut the Burgos road and the communication
with France. ‘It is doubtful whether Wellington would have dared to
continue his march to the Carrion, and to abandon his line of connexion
with Portugal,’ writes Jourdan; ‘more probably he would have repassed
the Douro, to follow the French army, which could then have retired
up-stream to Aranda, and from thence either on Burgos or on Saragossa.
Time would have been gained--Clausel would have come up, and we could
have fought on ground more suitable for cavalry[491].’ This most
hazardous plan would have commenced by abandoning to the enemy all
Old Castile and Biscay, with the French forces scattered in them; for
even if Wellington had followed the King with his Anglo-Portuguese
army, Giron’s Galicians and the insurgents of the North--Longa,
Porlier, El Pastor, and the rest--would have been left free to clear
the whole country up to the Pyrenees. The French detachments in the
North must have retired on Bayonne. King Joseph and the generals
rejected the scheme at once, on the ground that Napoleon’s orders had
always insisted on the retention of the direct road to France, by
Burgos and Vittoria, as the most important of all considerations. This
was undoubtedly a correct decision. Not only was the road along the
south bank of the Douro to Aranda a very bad one, through an exhausted
country, but it is clear that, if they took it, the French would never
have got back again on to the Burgos line, but would have been forced
to take the Saragossa line. The way from Aranda by Soria to Saragossa
was through a rough country infested by Duran, the Empecinado, and
other active guerrillero leaders. It could never have served as the
main artery of communication for an army of the size of King Joseph’s.
But supposing that the King should have reached Saragossa, his only
touch with France would be through Barcelona and Roussillon, for
there is no decent carriage road from Saragossa across the Central
Pyrenees--the difficult pass by Jaca having often been tried and found
wanting, save for small and unencumbered detachments. To base the
whole army of Spain on Perpignan instead of Bayonne would have been
hopelessly impracticable.

The question as to whether the line along the Pisuerga, from Palencia
to opposite Simancas, could not be held was the really hard problem. It
was 35 miles long, well marked, but with local faults; the water was
low; there were points where the west bank commanded the east; from
near Palencia to Cabezon the only good road was on the western side of
the river, and so out of control; while the bad path on the eastern
side was cut up by three streams coming in from the high plateaux of
the province of Burgos. In the rear there was the defile of Torquemada,
where the road and the Pisuerga itself came out of the upland. After
pondering over the question, Joseph decided that the Pisuerga was too
dangerous a line to hold, that he was still too weak in numbers, and
that he had better fall back on Burgos, and wait in position there, on
ground much more defensible than the broad plains of the Pisuerga and
the Carrion, for the arrival of the missing divisions of the Army of
Portugal and of Clausel.

On the evening of the 2nd orders were issued that all the _impedimenta_
of the Army of Spain should move off northward at once. The Grand Park
and other transport, the Spanish refugees with all their carriages and
lumber, the French civil administrators, the King’s ministers with his
private baggage and treasure, and much miscellaneous stuff from the
royal palaces--pictures, books, and antiquities--were to start off
at once on the road to Burgos. One great convoy was dispatched that
night, a second and still larger one the following morning. Escort was
found for them from the King’s Spanish troops, the so-called ‘division’
of Casa Palacios, and other detachments, making up 4,000 men in all.
On the afternoon of the 3rd the army executed a general movement of
retreat, leaving only a cavalry screen behind, to observe Wellington’s
advance. The Army of the South came back through Valladolid, after
blowing up all the bridges on the lower Pisuerga and the neighbouring
streams, and then marched up its western bank to Cabezon. Reille
evacuated Medina de Rio Seco and fell back on Palencia, where he picked
up Maucune. Head-quarters and the King’s guard moved to Magaz, just
south of Palencia. D’Erlon marched from Valladolid to Dueñas, ten
miles farther south than Magaz, and made ready to blow up the bridge
there and cross to the other side of the Pisuerga. The whole army was
collected in a space of 15 miles, and halted for two days, in a safe
position for retreat on Burgos, when it should be pressed. For Joseph
and Jourdan naturally wished to gain time--every day that passed made
it more likely that the missing divisions from the North would be
heard of, or even be reported as approaching. Yet it would seem that
even yet no direct and peremptory orders had been sent to Clausel, for
Jourdan writes in his Memoirs that ‘the King suspended the retrograde
movement because he thought to gain time, _and hoped that the Minister
of War would have given orders to General Clauzel to come down on
Burgos_[492].’ Again the wretched system of double-command and constant
reference to Paris was working! If it be remembered that it was only on
the 18th of May that the King had made his final appeal to the minister
to let loose Clausel from the northern operations, and that the news
of Wellington’s actual advance had only been sent to France on the
24th, when could it be expected that the directions from Paris would
reach the scattered columns lost in the mountains of Navarre? And was
there any certainty that Clarke would visualize the full danger of the
position, and give at once the kind of orders that the King desired?
He might send instead a lecture on the Emperor’s intentions, if past
experience was to be trusted, and some suggestions which the events of
the last ten days would have put completely out of date.

SECTION XXXVI: CHAPTER V

THE OPERATIONS AROUND BURGOS: JUNE 4-14, 1813

On June 3rd Wellington had halted the infantry of Graham’s column at
Toro, in order to allow the whole of Hill’s column to cross the bridge
and fords, and to complete the junction of the army. He gave as his
reasons that he expected to meet Gazan, D’Erlon, and the King, on the
Hormija river, when he should have debouched from Toro, and that he
intended to fight them with his whole force, not with the northern
column only. ‘I do not think,’ he wrote, ‘that we are so close up
or so well concentrated as we ought to be, to meet the enemy in the
strength in which he will appear on the Hormija, probably to-morrow;
and therefore I propose to halt the heads of the different columns
to-morrow, and close up the rear of each, moving Hill in this direction
preparatory to our further movement[493].’ Only the cavalry continued
to press forward on the 3rd; they found no signs of resistance, but
only vedettes, which retired cautiously on their approach. Wellington
was so far right in his apprehension, that the idea of fighting in
front of Valladolid had been one of the three plans which the French
Head-quarters Staff had considered on June 2. But, as we have already
seen, that scheme had been rejected as rash, and during Wellington’s
halt upon June 3 the enemy were evacuating Valladolid and all its
neighbourhood, and commencing their retreat behind the Pisuerga. By
eight o’clock on the evening of that day the cavalry reports, all
along the front, showed that the enemy was retiring on every road,
and it appeared certain that they did not intend to fight; the army
therefore advanced in three main columns, Wellington himself with
the 3rd, 4th, 6th, and 7th Divisions, followed by Hill, by the high
road on Valladolid through La Mota: Graham with the 1st and 5th
Divisions, Pack and Bradford, by the more northern parallel road, by
Villavelid and Villar de Frades, on Medina de Rio Seco. The Galicians
were converging on the same point as Graham, by the high road from
Villalpando and Villafrechos, but were directed not to approach too
close to Medina till further notice. The reason for their delay was a
curious one--Giron had just written on the previous day to say that
he had no reserve of infantry cartridges, and only 60 rounds a man in
the soldiers’ pouches. He wanted to borrow a supply from the British
army. Wellington replied in considerable heat: when he was on the move
he could not give away his own reserve ammunition: no doubt Giron
was not personally to blame--nor his men--but the administration in
Galicia. Yet the unfortunate result would be that the Galicians must
never be put in a position where there would be a heavy consumption
of cartridges, i. e. must be held in reserve, or used for subsidiary
operations only. Giron was directed to make small regimental reserves,
by taking away a proportion of the cartridges from each man and
carrying them on mules. The general got off easily--but Wellington
thundered that night on the War Minister O’Donoju, ‘Here is an army
which is clothed, armed, and disciplined, but cannot be brought into
action with the enemy: I am obliged to keep it in the rear. How can
troops march without provisions, or fight without ammunition? The cause
of the country may be lost unless the Government establish in the
provinces some authority to which the people will pay obedience, and
which will insure their resources for the purposes of the war[494].’ It
will be noted that all through the rest of the campaign Giron’s corps
was used for flanking movements, and never put in the forefront of the
fighting--though the other Spanish troops with the army, Morillo’s and
later Longa’s divisions, were used freely.

On the 4th June Wellington moved with the ‘Head-Quarters Column’ as
far as La Mota, Hill getting no farther than Morales. At La Mota
the information received showed that the French were in general
retreat--the cavalry advance got into Valladolid and found some
undestroyed stores of ammunition there. Julian Sanchez, scouting far
towards the south, discovered a considerable magazine of grain at
Arevalo, where Gazan’s head-quarters had been. In view of the new
situation it was necessary to recast the movements of the army--there
was to be no fight on the Hormija, or for the possession of Valladolid.
The initial strategical success of the passage of the Esla had settled
the event of the first phase of the campaign, and cleared the French
not only out of New Castile, but out of the kingdom of Leon and great
part of Old Castile. The fact that the enemy had abandoned Valladolid
and the lower crossings of the Pisuerga, would seem to show that
he intended to fall back on the Burgos country: he could hardly be
intending to defend a position behind the middle Pisuerga and the
Carrion, since he had surrendered the passages at and about Valladolid,
by which the southern flank of such a position could be turned.

Now nine months ago Wellington had been in these same regions, with the
army of Clausel retreating before him from Valladolid on Burgos. On
that occasion he had followed the enemy in a straightforward pursuit
along the great high road, by Cabezon and Torquemada. On this occasion
his strategy was entirely different. Leaving only a cavalry screen
between himself and the enemy, he proceeded to move his whole army
towards the north-west by secondary roads, marching in four parallel
columns not on Burgos but on the upper Pisuerga north-west of that
fortress, so as to turn entirely any position that the enemy might
take up on the Hormaza, the Arlanzon, or the Urbel. It can hardly be
doubted that he had already in his mind the great manœuvre which he
was to accomplish during the next fortnight--that of outflanking the
French right wing by a wide sweeping movement, which would not only
force Joseph and Jourdan to evacuate Burgos and its neighbourhood,
but would cut them off from the royal road to Bayonne and their main
communication with France. The first order in his dispatch book which
definitely reveals this intention does not appear till June 10[495],
but the facts which it contains prove that the plan must have been laid
long ere Wellington started from Portugal.

This plan was no less a scheme than the transference of the base of
the British army from the port of Lisbon to the Bay of Biscay, so that
when, in its wide turning movement, it should have passed the Ebro
and neared the Cantabrian coast, it should find stores and munitions
awaiting it, and be no longer tied to the long line of communication
with Portugal, which it had always used hitherto. It was an astonishing
example of the strategical use of sea-power, to which there had
hitherto been no parallel in the Napoleonic wars. The only manœuvre at
all resembling it was that by which Sir John Moore in December 1808
had changed his line of communication from Lisbon to Corunna. But this
was for a sudden hasty retreat, made by a small army--a very different
thing from an advance made by a large army. For Moore had only wanted
transports on which to abscond from the Peninsula; Wellington had
planned the arrival of a fleet of supply vessels, on whose contents
he was to rely for the future sustenance of his army during a long
campaign.

Their existence was his second great secret in 1813--the first had been
his plan for the crossing of the Esla. But the latter might have been
guessed at as a possibility by any intelligent French general: the
former, it is safe to say, had never been dreamed of as a conceivable
move. Santander is so remote from Portugal, and the French were so
firmly rooted in Northern Spain in the spring of 1813, that it could
never enter into the head of any of Napoleon’s subordinates that the
British Commander-in-Chief was planning such an elaborate surprise.
They were bound to believe that all Wellington’s operations would be
founded on, and circumscribed by, the basic fact that his line of
communication was on Lisbon. A manœuvre which presupposed the complete
abandonment of that line was not conceivable by officers reared in
Continental campaigns, and unused to contemplating the correlation of
land operations and naval strategy. Yet the fact that the supply fleet
had been gathered at Corunna long weeks before, and kept there till
the conquest of Northern Spain was well on its way to completion, is
conclusive evidence as to Wellington’s intentions. The crucial dispatch
of June 10 ran as follows--it was addressed to Colonel Bourke in charge
of the British dépôts in Galicia:

‘There are at Corunna certain ships loaded with biscuit and flour,
and certain others loaded with a train of heavy artillery and its
ammunition, and some with musket ammunition, and I shall be much
obliged if you will request any officer of the navy who may be at
Corunna, when you receive this letter, to take under his convoy all
the vessels loaded as above mentioned, and to proceed with them to
Santander. If he should find Santander occupied by the enemy, I beg him
to remain off the port till the operations of this army have obliged
the enemy to abandon it.

‘If the enemy is not occupying Santander, I beg him to enter the port,
but to be in readiness to quit it again if the enemy should approach
the place, until I shall communicate with him[496]’.

It should be noted that Wellington had carefully avoided calling
attention to the accumulation of ships and stores at Corunna, even
in his letters to the ministers at home[497]. Their existence there
was plausibly explained by the need for supplying the Spanish army of
Galicia--which had indeed received much material during the spring.
The provision of heavy artillery shows that he was contemplating
as a probability the siege of San Sebastian and the other northern
fortresses. He had failed at Burgos in 1812 for lack of the 24-pounders
which Home Popham had vainly offered to send him from Santander: now he
was quite ready to receive them from that port. As things stood on the
Pisuerga, at the moment that he sent this prescient dispatch to Bourke,
it was certainly a bold prophecy to write that he was about to clear
the Cantabrian coast by his next move. The French were still unbeaten,
and he was more than a hundred miles from the Bay of Biscay, from which
he was separated by a most rough and complicated land of mountains.
But he had already taken his measure of the capacity of the hostile
commanders, and his hopes were high.

The great flank movement’s initial stages can be best traced by
following on the map Wellington’s nightly head-quarters. They were
La Mota on the 4th, Castromonte on the 5th, Ampudia on the 6th--all
these carefully avoid the neighbourhood of the Pisuerga, though the
cavalry pushed on to feel the lines of the French along the river.
But the army, instead of making for the crossings at Valladolid,
Cabezon, or Dueñas, kept steadily on in four parallel columns, on
roads far from the river. Hill, still as always on the right, went by
Torrelobaton, Mucientes, and Dueñas; Graham, on the left, by Medina
de Rio Seco and Grixota; ‘the Head-Quarters Column’ under Wellington
himself, by Castromonte and Ampudia--while, far off, the Galician army
on the north moved by Villaramiel and Villoldo on Aguilar de Campos.
The flanking cavalry kept up a continual bickering along the Pisuerga
with French outposts; on the 6th those at the head of the advance had a
distant glimpse of a great review of the Army of the Centre, which King
Joseph was holding outside Palencia, from the heights which overlook
that city from the west. In front of Dueñas there was an exchange of
letters under a flag of truce between Wellington and Gazan--a most
odd proceeding at such a moment--from which both parties thought they
had derived useful information[498]. The British _parlementaire_
reported to the Commander-in-Chief that Dueñas was still held by French
infantry--which was good to know: the French, on the other hand, got a
reply to Gazan’s letter to Wellington within four hours--which proved
that British Head-Quarters must be a very short way from them--which
was equally a valuable scrap of knowledge.

The King had now waited three days in the temporary position behind
the Pisuerga, without being attacked, though he was in the close
neighbourhood of the enemy. The quiescence of such an adversary made
him uncomfortable, and at last he guessed part of what was going on
opposite him. The British must be pushing up northward parallel to his
line, and preparing to turn his right flank (which extended no farther
than Palencia) by way of Amusco and the upper Carrion. Whereupon Joseph
on the 7th hastily resumed his retreat, and got behind the defile of
Torquemada. There was danger in waiting--nothing had been heard of
Clausel, but news were to hand that Lamartinière, with one of the
missing divisions of the Army of Portugal, was nearing Burgos from
the north. The main body took post on the Arlanzon--but Reille with
his two divisions at Castroxeriz on the Odra. Jourdan went forward to
report on the condition of Burgos, where important new works had been
commenced in the spring, and to choose good defensible positions in its
neighbourhood. It was expected that the British army would follow in
pursuit, up the great _chaussée_ from Palencia to Torquemada.

And at first it looked as if this might be the case: entering Palencia
on the same day that the King had left it, Wellington pushed up the
_chaussée_ part of Hill’s column--Grant’s and Ponsonby’s cavalry
brigades and the Light Division, which kept in touch with the enemy’s
rear. The rest of the right column had got no farther forward than
Palencia. But the main body of the army continued its north-westerly
turning movement, Graham’s infantry that day reached Grixota, five
miles north of Palencia; the Galicians were up parallel with Graham
farther west, somewhere near Becceril. The movements of June 8 and 9,
however, were the decisive revelations of Wellington’s intentions.
He moved his head-quarters not up the Torquemada road, but to Amusco
on the Carrion river, and continued to urge his columns straight
northward--Graham to San Cebrian and Peña on the 8th and Osorno on the
9th, the main body of Hill’s column to Amusco and Tamara, the Galicians
to Carrion. He was thus getting his army well north of any positions
which the enemy would be likely to take up in the neighbourhood of
Burgos, giving it very long marches, but still keeping it closely
concentrated.

On the 10th he judged that he had got sufficiently round the enemy, and
turned all his columns due east towards the upper Pisuerga--Graham’s
and Wellington’s own divisions crossing it at Zarzosa and Melgar, Hill
at Astudillo, some miles farther south. Head-quarters were fixed that
night at Melgar. With the passage of the Pisuerga ended the long march
through the great flat corn-bearing plainland of Northern Spain, the
Tierra de Campos. The next ten days were to be spent among rougher
paths. The triumphant and almost unopposed advance from the Esla to the
Pisuerga, executed in one sweep and at high speed, was an episode which
those who were engaged in it never forgot.

‘From the time of our crossing the Esla up to this period,’ wrote one
diarist, ‘we have been marching through one continuous cornfield. The
land is of the richest quality, and produces the finest crops with the
least possible labour. It is generally wheat, with a fair proportion
of barley, and now and then a crop of vetches or clover. The horses
fed on green barley nearly the whole march, and got fat. The army has
trampled down twenty yards of corn on each side of the roads by which
the several columns have passed--in many places much more, from the
baggage going on the side of the columns, and so spreading farther into
the wheat. But they must not mind their corn if we get the enemy out
of their country!... The country gives bread and corn, and hitherto
these have not failed, and this is a region that has been plundered and
devastated for five years by the enemy! It was said before our march
that until the harvest came in, not a pound of bread by way of supplies
for the army could be procured[499].’

A Light Division diarist writes in a more romantic frame of mind: ‘The
country was beautifully diversified, studded with castles of Moorish
architecture, recalling the chivalric days of Ferdinand and Isabella.
The sun shone brilliantly, the sky was heavenly blue, and clouds of
dust marked the line of march of the glittering columns. The joyous
peasantry hailed our approach and came dancing to meet us, singing, and
beating time on their small tambourines; and when we passed through the
principal street of Palencia, the nuns, from the upper windows of a
convent, showered down rose-leaves upon our dusty heads[500].’

The dry comment of the Commander-in-chief, in his report to the War
Minister at home, contrasts oddly with this enthusiasm: ‘I enclose the
last weekly and daily states. We keep up our strength, and the army are
very healthy and in better order than I have ever known them. God knows
how long that will last. It depends entirely upon the officers[501].’

While Wellington’s columns were hurrying northward, the French remained
for two days (June 7-9) in position behind the Pisuerga--Reille on the
right at Castroxeriz, the rest of the army holding the heights down to
Villadiego and the Arlanza river. Only British cavalry scouts appeared
in front of them. ‘The position was excellent,’ says Jourdan, ‘and it
was hoped to hold it for some days. But the generals commanding the
armies represented to the King that the troops lacked bread, and that
they dared not send out large detachments far afield to requisition
food from the peasantry, wherefore the whole force retired on Burgos.’
No doubt the country was bare; and, when the enemy is known to be
near, it is unsafe to make large detachments: but it may be suspected
that the real cause for retreat was the continuous uncertainty as
to Wellington’s northward movement. Yet it is clear that the French
Head-Quarters had no suspicion how far that movement was going.

For on the 9th, when they retreated, they took up position on a very
short line north and south of Burgos. Reille’s two divisions lay behind
the Hormaza river, ten miles west of the fortress--with the right
opposite Hormaza village, the left at Estepar--forming a front line.
The Army of the South was on both banks of the Arlanzon, five miles
behind Reille--right wing behind the Urbel river, left wing behind
the Arcos river. The Army of the Centre and the King’s Guards were in
reserve, billeted in Burgos itself. But already Wellington’s columns
were aiming at points far north of Reille’s position. That day the
northernmost divisions of Graham’s infantry[502] were at Osorno, next
day (June 10th) at Zarzosa, beyond the Pisuerga, a point from which
they could easily march round the Hormaza position, and on June 11th,
at Sotresgudo, where they halted for a day[503]. The centre[504],
with Wellington himself, on the same day had reached Castroxeriz on
the Odra river, while Hill was close by at Barrio de Santa Maria and
Valbases. Nothing had been sent south of the Arlanzon save Julian
Sanchez’s lancers, who were scouring the country in the direction of
Lerma, on the look-out for belated French convoys or detachments.
The Galician army, keeping (as always) far out on the left wing, had
reached the Pisuerga at Herrera, ten miles north of Graham’s extreme
flank. They were now within two marches of the upper Ebro, and there
was absolutely no enemy in front of them for scores of miles--the
nearest Frenchmen in that direction were the columns with which Foy was
scouring the roads of Biscay, after his capture of Castro-Urdiales.

The halt of the French army in the neighbourhood of Burgos was not
to mark the end of its retreat, and the commencement of offensive
operations, as King Joseph had hoped. The only cheering features
in the general outlook were that Lamartinière’s division of the
Army of Portugal was now in touch--it was reported coming up from
Briviesca--and that a bulletin of the Grand Army was received from
Germany, telling of the victory of the Emperor at Bautzen. But the
discouraging news was appalling--the first instalment of it was that
Jourdan reported, after investigating the fortifications of Burgos,
that he considered the place untenable. During the spring building and
demolition had been taken in hand, for the purpose of linking up the
old castle, which had given so much trouble to Wellington in 1812,
with the high-lying ‘Hornwork of St. Miguel’ on the rising ground
above. The scheme was wholly unfinished--the only result achieved was
that St. Miguel, as reconstructed, commanded the castle, and that the
alterations started in the _enceinte_ of the latter, with the object
of linking it up with the former, had rendered it, in the marshal’s
opinion, incapable of holding out for a day. Yet this would not have
mattered so much if the army had been about to resume the offensive, or
to put up a stable defence in the Burgos region.

But it was declared that this was impossible--the governor reported
that the immense convoys which had been passing through Burgos of late,
and the recent stay of considerable bodies of troops in the place[505],
had brought his magazines to such a low ebb that he could not feed
an army of 50,000 men for more than a few days. The town was still
crammed with the last great horde of Spanish and French refugees, who
had come on from Madrid, Segovia, and Valladolid, and all the King’s
private train. They were sent on at once towards Vittoria, under escort
of Lamartinière’s division--which thus no sooner became available
than it was lost again. No news had arrived either from Foy or from
Clausel: but Sarrut’s division of the Army of Portugal had been located
north of the Ebro, and would be coming in ere very long. The news
that Clausel was undiscoverable brought King Joseph to such a pitch
of excitement that he took, on June 9th, a step which he should have
taken a fortnight before, and threw over all his fears of offending the
minister at Paris or the Emperor in Saxony. He sent direct peremptory
orders to Clausel to join him at once, and told off a column of 1,500
men to escort the aide-de-camp who bore them: it went off by Domingo
Calzada and Logroño. As a matter of fact the order reached the general
in six days--but it might have taken longer for all that Joseph could
guess. And the King came to the conclusion that if he were at all
pushed by Wellington within the next few days, he must abandon Burgos
and retire behind the Ebro. He might even have to go without hostile
persuasion, on the mere question of food-supplies.

But on June 12 the pressure was applied. Wellington had now got all
his forces over the Pisuerga, and his two southern columns were
concentrated between Castroxeriz and Villadiego: Graham was farther
off, but not out of reach. Having reconnoitred the advanced position
of Reille on the Hormaza river, and found that his supports were far
behind, he resolved to attack him in front and flank that morning. Only
the southern column--Hill’s troops--was employed, the centre divisions
being halted in a position from which they might be brought in on the
enemy’s rear, if the King reinforced Reille, but not if the French
showed no signs of standing. But the push against the Army of Portugal,
made by the 2nd Division, Silveira’s Portuguese, and Morillo’s
Spaniards, was sufficient to dislodge the enemy: for while they were
deploying against the French front, the cavalry brigades of Grant and
Ponsonby, supported by the Light Division, appeared behind Reille’s
right flank. The enemy at once gave way, before infantry fighting had
begun, and retreating hastily southward got behind the Urbel river,
where the Army of the South was already in line. Reille then crossed
the Arlanzon by the bridge of Buniel and took post south of Burgos.
The French loss was small--the retreat was made in good order and with
great speed, before the British infantry could arrive. Grant’s and
Ponsonby’s horse, already outflanking the rearguard, got in close, but
did not deliver a general attack--by Wellington’s own orders as it
is said[506]: for (despite of Garcia Hernandez) he held to his firm
belief that cavalry cannot break intact infantry. A half troop of the
14th Light Dragoons, under Lieut. Southwell, charged and captured an
isolated French gun, which had fallen behind the rearguard; but this
was the only contact between the armies that day. Jourdan says that
Reille lost about fifteen men only--an exaggeration no doubt, but not a
very great one.

The result, however, was to determine King Joseph to retreat at once,
and to abandon Burgos, before his obviously outflanked right wing
should be entirely circumvented. That night desperate measures were
taken--everything that could travel on wheels was sent off by the high
road towards the Ebro: the infantry followed, using such side roads as
were available. At dawn only cavalry rearguards were covering Burgos.
Jourdan explains the haste of the retreat as follows. ‘It was easy to
foresee that next morning that part of the Army of the South which lay
behind the Urbel river would be attacked, and that being separated by
the Arlanzon from the bulk of the army, which lay on the south bank, it
would be compromised. Three choices lay open--first, to bring the whole
army across the Arlanzon and to fight on the Urbel; but this would have
brought on the general action which it had been determined to avoid,
ever since the King had made up his mind to call in Clausel. Second--to
bring the whole army across to the south bank of the Arlanzon, where
there was a good position: but this move would have allowed the enemy
to cut the great road and our communications with France--and the same
motives which had caused the rejection of the scheme to retire south of
the Douro on June 2 caused this alternative to be disapproved on June
12. Third--to fall back by the great road to the Ebro, and so secure
the earliest possible concentration of all the armies of Spain. This
was the scheme adopted[507].’

It is said that Gazan was for fighting on the Urbel[508], while Reille
and D’Erlon opted for the second choice--that of abandoning the high
road to France, going south of the Arlanzon, and retreating by the bad
track to Domingo Calzada and Logroño, because Clausel, being certainly
somewhere in Navarre, would be picked up much sooner at Logroño than at
Miranda or other points higher up the Ebro. But the Emperor’s orders
that the direct communication with France must be kept up at all costs,
were adduced against them, and settled the question.

Before leaving, the French made arrangements to blow up the castle
which had served them so well in the preceding October, and to destroy
a great store of powder and munitions for which no transport could be
procured. According to Jourdan the disaster which followed was due to
the professional ignorance of General d’Aboville, the director-general
of artillery, who maintained that shells would do no great harm if
they were exploded, not in a great mass but placed in small groups, at
distances one from another. He had 6,000 of them laid in parcels on
the ground in the castle square, and connected with the mines which
were placed under the donjon keep. Orders were given that the fuses
were only to be lit when the last troops should have left, and the
inhabitants were told that if they would keep to their houses they
would incur no danger. But the mines by some error were fired before
seven o’clock in the morning, and the effects of the explosion had
been so badly calculated, that not only were many houses in the city
injured, all the glass blown out of the splendid cathedral, and its
roof broken in several places, but a hail of shells fell all over the
surrounding quarter, and killed 100 men of Villatte’s division, who
were halted in the Plaza Mayor, and a few of Digeon’s dragoons who were
crossing the bridge[509]. There were casualties also, of course, among
the unfortunate citizens. When the smoke cleared away, and the fire
had gone out, it was found that the destruction of the donjon keep and
upper works of the castle had been complete, but that most of the outer
wall was standing--as indeed it is to this day. Wellington remarked
that it was quite capable of restoration, if the fortunes of the war
made it necessary[510]. They did not; and the skeleton of the castle
still remains ruined and riven on its mound, to surprise the observer
by its moderate size. Those who go round it can only marvel that such a
small fortress should have held all Wellington’s army at bay during so
many eventful days in 1812.

The British general, hearing at Castroxeriz, on the early morning of
June 13, that the French had evacuated Burgos and blown up its works,
did not even enter the town, and sent nothing more than cavalry scouts
to follow the retreating enemy, but ordered the instant resumption of
the north-westward march of the whole army. It was now his intention
to turn the line of the Ebro, in the same fashion that he had turned
the line of the Douro on May 31--by passing it so far to the westward
that any position which the enemy might adopt would be outflanked, even
before it was fully taken up. And he was aiming not only at turning the
Ebro line, but at cutting Joseph’s communication with France: he was
already taking Vittoria, far behind the Ebro, as the goal for which he
was making.

We have Wellington’s own word for the fact that it was the collapse
of the French opposition in front of Burgos which finally induced him
to develop his original plan of campaign, spoken of above, into the
more ambitious scheme for driving the French completely out of the
Peninsula, which he now took in hand. Unfortunately his statement was
taken down many years after the event, and his memory of details was
not all that it might have been in his old age. But the story is so
interesting and fits into the psychology of the moment so well that it
must not be omitted.

‘When I heard and saw the explosion (I was within a few miles, and
the effect was tremendous) I made a sudden resolution forthwith--to
cross the Ebro _instanter_, and to endeavour to push the French to the
Pyrenees. We had heard of the battles of Lützen and Bautzen, and of
the Armistice, and the affairs of the Allies looked very ill. Some of
my officers remonstrated with me about the imprudence of crossing the
Ebro, and advised me to “take up the line of the Ebro”, &c. 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 that advice, and that evening (or the very next morning)
I crossed the river and pushed the French till I afterwards beat them
at Vittoria. And lucky it was that I did! For the battle of Vittoria
induced the Allies to denounce the Armistice--then followed Leipzig and
all the rest.

‘All my staff were against my crossing the Ebro: they represented that
we had done enough, that we ought not to risk the army and all that we
had obtained, that the Armistice would enable Bonaparte to reinforce
his army in Spain, and we therefore should look for a defensive system.
I thought differently--I knew that the Armistice could not affect in
the way of quick reinforcement so distant an army as that of Spain. I
thought that if I could not _hustle_ them out of Spain before they were
reinforced, I should not be able to hold any position in Spain after
they should be. Above all I calculated on the effect that a victory
might have on the Armistice itself, so I crossed the Ebro and fought
the battle of Vittoria.’

How far is this curious confidence, made to Croker in January 1837, and
taken down by him in two separate drafts (_Croker Papers_, ii. p. 309,
and iii. pp. 336-7), a blurred impression, coloured by after events? It
is quite true that the Burgos explosion took place early on the morning
of June 13, that the orders dictated at Villadiego that day (_Suppl.
Disp._ vii, p. 637) give a sudden new direction to the army, and that
next evening (June 14) the heads of the columns were over the Ebro. But
Wellington’s own dispatches seem to show that he did not know anything
of the Armistice on June 13, for he wrote to his brother Henry that
day, ‘I have no news from England. The French have a bulletin of May
24th, when Napoleon was at Dresden--they talk of successes, but as he
was still at Dresden on the 24th, having arrived there on the 8th, they
cannot have been very important.’ Now the Armistice of Plässwitz was
signed on June 4, and on the 13th Wellington’s latest news was of May
24. But on the 17th, when he had been two days across the Ebro, he did
at last hear something. Again he writes to his brother:

‘I have got, by Corunna, English papers of the 3rd. There were several
actions in the neighbourhood of Bautzen on the 20th-22nd May....
Bonaparte turned then, and they retired. The Allies have lost ground
but are unhurt. He has offered (before the battle) to consent to a
congress at Prague.... An armistice is to commence when the ministers
shall arrive at Prague.... I do not think that the Russians and
Prussians can agree to the armistice, unless they submit entirely’
(_Disp._ x. p. 443).

Clearly, then, Wellington on the 13th knew nothing of any armistice,
since he introduces the proposal, not the accomplishment, of it to
his most trusted correspondent on the 17th, as the last news to hand.
He was committed to the advance on Vittoria long before he could
know of its subsequent political effects. And thus in his old age he
underrated his own prescience. But the fact that his officers doubted
the wisdom of the advance, and that he swept their objections away, is
probably correct. That he had considered the possibility of an advance
far beyond the Ebro seems, as has been said before (pp. 301-3), to be
proved by orders given in the spring, before the campaign began.

On the evening of the 13th head-quarters were at Villadiego, while the
columns were all heading northward on parallel routes. The Galicians
were moving from Aguilar on the bridge of Rocamonde[511], the highest
on the Ebro save that at its source near Reynosa. The bulk of Graham’s
column was marching by La Piedra on the bridge of San Martin, a
few miles lower down than Rocamonde, though some of its flanking
cavalry crossed at the latter passage, ahead of the Galicians. The
Head-Quarters divisions and Hill’s column moved, using all available
secondary roads, from their position opposite the lower Urbel, by
Villadiego and Montorio respectively, on the bridge of Puente Arenas,
some fifteen miles below that of San Martin. All three columns had on
the 13th-14th-15th very hard marches, of four long Spanish leagues
on three successive days, across upland roads where artillery had
never been seen before. The move would only have been practicable at
midsummer. But the columns were absolutely unopposed, and the upper
Ebro country had been entirely neglected by the French, as Wellington
had foreseen. ‘One division could have stopped the whole column at the
bridge of San Martin,’ wrote an intelligent observer, ‘or the other at
Rocamonde, where some of our column likewise crossed--the enemy cannot
be aware of our movement[512].’ Graham was all across the Ebro by noon
on the 14th, Hill by the morning of the 16th. Wellington who had fixed
his head-quarters at the lost village of Masa in the hills, was able
to declare with confidence that the whole army would be over the river
by the night--‘and then the French must either fight, or retire out of
Spain altogether.’

The Ebro country was a surprise to the British observers who had spent
so many years in the uplands of Portugal or the rolling plains of the
Tierra de Campos. ‘Winding suddenly out of a narrow pass, we found
ourselves in the river valley, which extended some distance on our
right. The beauty of the scenery was beyond description: the rocks
rose perpendicularly on every side, without any visible opening to
convey an idea of an outlet. This enchanting valley is studded with
picturesque hamlets and fruitful gardens producing every description of
vegetation. At the Puente Arenas we met a number of sturdy women loaded
with fresh butter from the mountains of the Asturias. We had not tasted
that commodity for _two years_, therefore it will be unnecessary to
describe how readily we made a purchase, nibbling by the way at such a
luxury[513].’ Northern or Pyrenean Spain is a very different country
from the dusty wind-swept central plateaux: above all the lack of
water, which is the curse of Castile, ceased at last to be the bane of
marching columns.

After crossing the Ebro on the 14th Graham’s column made another
four-league march on the 15th to the large town of Villarcayo, while
the Galicians got to Soncillo on the main road from Santander to
Burgos; thus Wellington was certain of the new naval base to which
he had bid the Corunna transports sail only five days before. Hill’s
troops, who had a longer march during the last two days than the other
columns, were not so far forward, but nearing the river had occupied
the heights on the southern side of the Puente de Arenas. The three
columns forming the Anglo-Portuguese army were, as a glance at the map
shows, in close touch with each other, and in a position where the
whole 80,000 men could be concentrated by a single march. Undoubtedly
the most surprising features of the advance is that Wellington’s
commissariat was able to feed such a mass of troops in such a limited
area, after they had left the plains of Castile and plunged into the
thinly inhabited mountains. The local supplies obtainable must have
been very limited. Several diarists speak of biscuit being short[514],
though meat was not. But somehow or other the commissaries generally
contrived to find more or less food for the army--the well-organized
mule trains were not far behind the infantry columns, and the long and
difficult movement was never checked--as earlier marches had been in
1809 and 1811[515]--by the mere question of provisions, though many
brigades got but scanty meals.

SECTION XXXVI: CHAPTER VI

WELLINGTON ON THE EBRO. JUNE 15-20,1813

After evacuating Burgos the French army had retired, at a rather
leisurely rate, down the high road which leads by Briviesca and the
defile of Pancorbo to the valley of the Ebro. The rearguard, as we have
seen, had left Burgos on the morning of the 13th, and halted for great
part of the day at Gamonal, a few miles east of the city, on the spot
where Napoleon had won his easy victory over the Conde de Belveder
on November 10, 1808. It was only followed by Spanish irregular
horse--some of Julian Sanchez’s ubiquitous lancers. Head-quarters that
night and the next (June 14) were at Briviesca, and remained there
for forty-eight hours: on the 15th they were moved on to Pancorbo, an
admirable position with a high-lying fort in the centre, while the
road is flanked for miles by steep slopes, on which an advantageous
rearguard action might have been fought. But no pursuing enemy came in
sight: this fact began to worry the French Head-quarters Staff. ‘What
could have become of Lord Wellington? The French Army, in full retreat,
was permitted to move leisurely along the great route, without being
harassed or urged forward, not a carriage of any description being
lost. It appeared inexplicable[516].’ The French retreat was leisurely
for two reasons--the first was that King Joseph wished to gain time
for the immense convoys lumbering in front of him to reach Miranda
and Vittoria without being hustled. The second was that he thought
that every day gained gave more time for Clausel to come up: at the
slow rate at which he was proceeding he might almost hope to find the
missing divisions of the Army of Portugal converging on Miranda, at
the moment when he should arrive there himself. The Council of War at
Burgos had decided that Wellington must inevitably pursue by the great
_chaussée_. The routes from the Burgos region to the upper Ebro had
been reported both by French officers who claimed to know the country,
and by local _Afrancesados_, as presenting insuperable difficulties to
a large army. There was, it is true, the high road Burgos-Santander
by Santijanez, Pedrosa, and Reynosa--but this led north-west in an
eccentric direction, not towards Miranda or Vittoria. That the danger
lay on the rough mountain ways a little farther east, which fall down
to San Martin and Puente de Arenas, seems not to have been suspected.
Yet it was disquieting to find no pursuit in progress: could the Allied
Army possibly have been forced to halt at Burgos for want of supplies?

On the 16th the French army descended from the defile of Pancorbo
to the Ebro, and proceeded to distribute itself in the region round
Miranda, in cantonments which permitted of rapid concentration when it
should become necessary. Nothing was yet to be heard of Clausel--but on
the other hand Lamartinière’s division was again picked up--it handed
over the duty of escorting the convoys toward Vittoria to Joseph’s
Spanish contingent, the small division of Casapalacios. Sarrut’s
division also came in from Biscay, and reported that it had been lately
in touch with Foy, who was successfully hunting the local guerrilleros
in the coast-land. But neither Foy himself, nor the troops of the
Army of the North which had been co-operating with him of late, were
anywhere near. Strange as it may appear, that very capable officer had
wholly failed to understand the general situation: though apprised ere
now of the evacuation of Madrid and Valladolid, he had nothing in his
mind save his wholly secondary operations against the Biscay bands.
His dispatches of this period show him occupied entirely with the
safety of Bilbao, and the necessity for guarding the high road from
Bergara and Tolosa to France. There were 20,000 troops in Biscay, but
they were entirely dispersed on petty expeditions and convoy work. On
June 19, when he got from head-quarters the first dispatch that caused
him to think of concentrating and joining the main army, Foy had only
one battalion with him at the moment at Bergara. A column of 1,000
men was moving to reinforce the garrison of Bilbao, a brigade was at
Villafranca escorting towards France the large body of prisoners whom
he had captured in his recent operations--another brigade was waiting
on the road between Vittoria and Mondragon, to pick up a large convoy
which, as he had been warned, would be coming up the Royal Road and
would require to be protected as far as San Sebastian. He was making
efforts to send provisions by sea to Bilbao and Castro-Urdiales--a task
in which he was being worried by British cruisers off the coast--and
was preparing to go to Bilbao himself[517].

No doubt the main blame for this untimely dispersion of forces lay with
General Head-Quarters. Jourdan and Joseph ought to have sent orders
to Foy, after the evacuation of Madrid, ordering him to cease all
secondary operations, to leave minimum garrisons at a few essential
points, abandon all the rest, and collect as strong a field-force as
possible, with which to join the main army. But they had written to
the minister at Paris suggesting such moves, instead of dispatching
direct orders to that effect to the general himself. Foy had been sent
information, not orders, and had failed to realize the full meaning
of the information--absorbed as he was in his own particular Biscayan
problems. Events were marching very quickly: it was hard to realize
that Wellington, who had been on the Esla on May 31, would have been
across the upper Ebro with 70,000 men on June 15. It had taken little
more than a fortnight for him to overrun half of Northern Spain. The
fact remained that of all the French troops operating in Biscay in
June, only Sarrut’s division, from Orduña, joined the King in time for
the battle of Vittoria. Yet Foy had under his orders not only his own
division but the Italian brigade of St. Pol, and the mobile brigade
of Berlier from the Army of the North, in addition to 10,000 men of
the garrisons of the various posts and fortresses of the North and the
littoral. And he had no enemy save the great partisan Longa in the
western mountains, and the scattered remains of the local insurgents
under El Pastor and others, whom he had defeated in April and May, and
whom he was at present harrying from hill to coast and from coast to
hill. We are once more forced to remember that the French armies in
Spain were armies of occupation as well as armies of operation, and
that one of their functions was often fatal to the other.

But to return to the moment when the King’s army came back to the
Ebro. Head-quarters were, of course, established at Miranda, where the
royal Guard served as their escort. The Army of the South sent three
divisions across to the north bank of the river; they were cantoned
on the lower Zadorra about Arminion; but Gazan kept three brigades on
the south bank as a rearguard for the present, but (as the King hoped)
to form a vanguard for a counter-advance, if only Clausel should come
up soon, and an offensive campaign become possible. A small observing
force was left at Pancorbo, into whose castle a garrison was thrown.
Cavalry exploring parties, pushed out from this point, sought for
Wellington’s approaching columns as far as Poza de la Sal on the right,
Briviesca on the high road, and Cerezo on the left; but to no effect.
They came in touch with nothing but detachments of Julian Sanchez’s
Lancers. D’Erlon, with the Army of the Centre, went ten miles down the
Ebro to Haro: he had now recovered his missing division, Darmagnac’s,
which had been lent to Reille for the last two months. For the Army
of Portugal having now three infantry divisions collected--Maucune’s,
Sarrut’s, and Lamartinière’s--was ordered to give back the borrowed
unit to its proper commander. Reille took the right of the Ebro
position, having Maucune’s division at Frias, Sarrut’s at Espejo, and
Lamartinière’s at the Puente Lara. He was ordered to use his cavalry to
search for signs of the enemy along the upper Ebro. The King had thus
an army which, by the junction of Sarrut and Lamartinière, had risen
to over 50,000 infantry and nearly 10,000 cavalry, concentrated on a
short front of 25 miles from Frias to Haro, covering the main road to
France by Vittoria, and also the side roads to Orduña and Bilbao on
the one flank, and Logroño and Saragossa on the other. His retreat,
though dispiriting, had not yet been costly--it is doubtful whether
he had lost 1,000 casualties in the operations of the last six weeks.
With the exception of the combats at Salamanca on May 26 and Morales
on June 2, there had been no engagements of any importance. The army
was angry at the long-continued retreat; the officers were criticizing
the generalship of their commanders in the most outspoken fashion, but
there was no demoralization--the troops were clamouring for a general
action.

But on June 17, when the French armies settled down into their new
position, with no detected enemy in their neighbourhood, their fate
was already determined--the Ebro line had been turned before it was
even taken up. For on this same day Wellington had not only got his
whole army north of the Ebro, but was marching rapidly eastward, by
the mountain roads twenty miles north of the river, into the rear of
Reille’s cantonments. Of all his troops only Julian Sanchez and Carlos
de España’s infantry division were left in Castile.

The movements of the Allied Army on the 15th-16th-17th June had been
carried out with surprising celerity. The Galician infantry, who had
crossed the river first, at Rocamonde, the bridge highest up on its
course, on the 13th were hurrying northward, by cross roads not marked
on the map, and obviously impracticable for guns, to Soncillo (15th),
Quintanilla de Pienza (16th), Villasana (17th), and Valmaseda in Biscay
(18th). When they had reached the last-named town they were threatening
Bilbao, and almost at its gates. This was the great demonstration,
intended to throw confusion among all the French detachments on the
northern coast. Several of the stages exceeded thirty miles in the day.

Meanwhile the three great columns of the Anglo-Portuguese army were
executing a turning movement almost as wide as that of Giron’s
Galicians. Converging from different bridges of the Ebro--Rocamonde
(where some of Graham’s cavalry passed), San Martin de Lines (where
the bulk of Graham’s force debouched northward on the 14th), and
Puente Arenas (used by the Head-quarters column on the 15th and by
Hill’s column on the 16th[518])--the whole army came in by successive
masses on to the two neighbouring towns of Villarcayo and Medina de
Pomar. At the latter place Longa turned up with his hard-marching
Cantabrian division, and joined the army. These considerable towns are
the road-centres of the whole rugged district between the Ebro and the
Cantabrian mountains. From them fork out the very few decent roads
which exist in the land--those northward over the great sierras to
Santander, Santoña, and Valmaseda-Bilbao: those eastward across their
foot-hills to Orduña-Vittoria and to Frias-Miranda. These five roads
are the only ones practicable for artillery and transport: there are,
however, minor tracks which can take infantry in good summer weather.

From his head-quarters at Quintana, near the bridge of Puente Arenas,
Wellington dictated on the 15th the marching orders which governed
the next stage of the campaign. With the exception of the Galicians,
already starting on their circular sweep towards Bilbao, all his
columns were directed to utilize the road parallel to the Ebro, but
twenty miles north of it, which runs from Medina de Pomar to Osma,
Orduña, and Vittoria. He deliberately avoided employing the other high
road, which runs closer to the river from Medina de Pomar to Frias
and Miranda, even for a side-column or a flying corps: only cavalry
scouts were sent along it. The reason why the whole army was thrown
on to a single road--a thing generally to be avoided, especially when
time is precious--was partly that the appearance of British troops
before Frias, where the enemy was known to have a detachment, would
give him early warning of the move. But the more important object was
to strike at the French line of communication with Bayonne as far
behind the known position of King Joseph’s army as possible. If the
line Frias-Miranda had been chosen, the enemy would have had many miles
less to march, when once the alarm was given, if he wished to cover
his proper line of retreat. If a fight was coming, it had better be at
or about Vittoria, rather than at or about Miranda. Moreover, the high
road, for a few miles east of Frias, passes to the south bank of the
Ebro, which it recrosses at the Puente Lara--there is only a bad track
north of the river from Frias to that bridge. It would be absurd to
direct any part of the army to cross and recross the Ebro at passages
which might be defended.

So the whole force was committed to the Medina-Osma road, except that
the infantry occasionally took cross-cuts by local tracks, in order
to leave the all-important main line, as far as possible, to the
guns and transport. The three corps in which the army had marched
from the Pisuerga fell in behind each other, in the order in which
they had crossed the Ebro--Graham leading--the Head-Quarters column
following--Hill bringing up the rear. Longa’s Cantabrians went on
as a sort of flying vanguard in front of Graham, not being burdened
with artillery[519]. The road was one which could only have been used
for such a large force in summer--it hugged the foot-hills of the
Cantabrian sierras, crossing successively the head-waters of several
small rivers running south to the Ebro, each in its own valley. The
country was thinly peopled and bare, so that little food could be
got to supplement the mule-borne rations. For this reason, as also
with the object of granting the French as little time as possible
after the first alarm should be given, the pace had to be forced.
The marches were long: on the 15th the head of Graham’s infantry was
at Villarcayo: on the 16th at La Cerca (five miles beyond Medina de
Pomar): on the 17th at the mountain villages of San Martin de Loza and
Lastres de Teza: on the 18th it was due at Osma and at Berberena--a
few miles up the Osma-Orduña road. The Head-Quarters column having no
exploration to do, since the way was reported clear in front, covered
the same distance in three marches instead of four, and was expected
to reach the neighbourhood of Osma on the 18th. Hill’s column had also
to hurry--its leading division was on that same day expected to be
at Venta de Membligo, a posting station six miles short of Osma, so
that its head would be just behind the tail of the preceding corps.
But Hill’s rear would be strung out for many miles behind. However,
all the fighting army was again in one mass--with a single exception.
Wellington had ordered the 6th division, commanded temporarily by his
own brother-in-law Pakenham, to halt at Medina de Pomar. The reason
which he gives in his dispatch[520] for depriving himself, now that the
day of crisis was at hand, of a good division of 7,000 men, is that
he left it ‘to cover the march of our magazines and stores.’ This is
almost as puzzling a business as his leaving of Colville’s corps at Hal
on the day of the battle of Waterloo--the only similar incident in the
long record of his campaigns. If this was his sole reason, why should
not a smaller unit--Pack’s or Bradford’s independent brigade--or both
of them--have been left behind? For that purpose such a force would
have sufficed. We are not informed that the 6th Division was more
afflicted with sickness than any other, or that it was more way-worn.
The only supposition that suggests itself is that Wellington may have
considered the possibility of Giron’s raid into Biscay failing, and
bringing down on his rear some unsuspected mass of French troops from
Bilbao. If this idea entered his head, he may easily have thought it
worth while to leave behind a solid reserve, on which Giron might fall
back, and so to cover the rear of his main army while he was striking
at the great road to France. But it must be confessed that this is
a mere hypothesis, and that the detachment of Pakenham’s division
seems inexplicable from the information before us. It was ordered to
follow when the whole of the transport should be clear, if no further
developments had happened to complicate the situation. Carrying out
this direction literally, Pakenham waited three days at Medina de
Pomar, and so only got to the front twenty-four hours after the battle
of Vittoria.[521]

The orders which Wellington issued upon the 17th[522] brought the head
of his columns into touch with the enemy. They directed that Graham,
with the 1st and 5th Division, Pack and Bradford, should move past
Osma on to Orduña, by the two alternative routes available between
those places, while the Head-Quarters column should not turn north
toward Orduña on reaching Osma, but pursue the roads south-eastward
by Espejo and Carcamo, which lead to Vittoria by a more southerly
line. The result contemplated was very much that which was worked out
in the battle of the 21st--a frontal attack by the main body, with
an outflanking move by Graham’s corps, which would bring it into the
rear of the enemy. But the route via Orduña was not the one which
the northern column was actually destined to take, as the events of
the 18th distracted it into a shorter but rougher road to the same
destination (Murguia), which it would have reached by a much longer
turn on the high road via Orduña.

But all the columns were not moving on the main track from Medina de
Pomar to Osma this day, for Wellington had directed the Light Division
to drop its artillery to the care of the 4th Division, and cut across
the hills south of the high road, by a country path which goes by La
Boveda, San Millan, and Villanan to a point, a few miles south of Osma,
in the same valley of the Omecillo in which that town lies. And Hill,
still far to the rear, was told to detach two brigades of the 2nd
Division, and send them to follow the Light Division along the same
line: if Alten should send back word that the route was practicable
for guns, Hill was to attach his Portuguese field battery to this
advance-column.

It was, apparently, on the morning of the 17th June only that the
French got definite indications of the direction in which the British
army might be looked for. Maucune reported from Frias, not long after
his arrival there, that hostile cavalry were across the Ebro in the
direction of Puente Arenas, and that other troops in uncertain strength
were behind them. It was clearly necessary to take new measures,
in view of the fact that the enemy was beyond the Ebro, in a place
where he had not been expected. How much did the move imply? After
consideration Joseph and Jourdan concluded, quite correctly, that
since the main body of Wellington’s army had been invisible for so
many days--it had last been seen on the Hormaza on June 12th--it was
probably continuing its old policy of circular marches to turn the
French right. This was correct, but they credited Wellington with
intending to get round them not by the shorter routes Osma-Vittoria,
but by the much longer route by Valmaseda and Bilbao, which would cut
into the high road to France at Bergara, far behind Vittoria.

With this idea in their heads the King and the Marshal issued orders
of a lamentably unpractical scope, considering the position occupied
by Wellington’s leading divisions on June 17th. Reille was ordered to
collect his three infantry divisions at Osma, and to hurry across the
mountains by Valmaseda, to cover Bilbao from the west, by taking up a
position somewhere about Miravalles. He would find the Biscayan capital
already held by St. Pol’s Italians, and Rouget’s brigade of the Army
of the North. Foy, who was believed to be at Tolosa, was instructed to
bring up his division to the same point. Thus a force of some 25,000
men would be collected at Bilbao. Meanwhile Reille’s original positions
at Frias and the Puente Lara would be taken over by Gazan, who would
march up the Ebro from Arminion with two divisions of infantry and one
of cavalry, to watch the north bank of the Ebro. ‘These dispositions,’
remarks Jourdan, ‘were intended to retard the advance of the enemy
in this mountainous region, and so to gain time for the arrival of
the reinforcements we were expecting [i.e. Clausel]. But it was too
late![523]’

No worse orders could have been given. If Wellington had struck
twenty-four hours later than he did, and Reille had been able to carry
out his first day’s appointed move, and to get forward towards Bilbao,
the result would have been to split the French army in two, with the
main range of the Cantabrian sierras between them: since Reille and Foy
would have joined at Bilbao--three days’ forced marches away from the
King. Meanwhile Joseph, deprived of the whole Army of Portugal, would
have had Wellington striking in on his flank by Osma, and would have
been forced to fight something resembling the battle of Vittoria with
10,000 men less in hand than he actually owned on June 21. Either he
would have suffered an even worse defeat than was his lot at Vittoria,
or he would have been compelled to retreat without fighting, down the
Ebro, or towards Pampeluna. In either case he would have lost the line
of communication with France; and while he was driven far east, Foy and
Reille would have had to hurry back on Bayonne, with some risk of being
intercepted and cut off on the way.

As a matter of fact, Reille was checked and turned back upon the first
day of his northward march. He had sent orders to Maucune to join him
from Frias, either by the road along the Ebro by Puente Lara, or by the
mountain track which goes directly from Frias to Espejo. Then, without
waiting for Maucune, he started from Espejo to march on Osma. He had
gone only a few miles when he discovered a British column debouching on
Osma, by the road from Berberena[524] and the north-west, which he had
been intending to take himself. Seeing his path blocked, but being loth
to give way before what might be no more than a detachment, he drew up
his two divisions on the hillside a mile south of Osma and appeared
ready to offer battle. Moreover, he was expecting the arrival of
Maucune, and judged that if he made off without delaying the enemy in
front of him, the column from Frias might be intercepted and encircled.

The troops which Reille had met were Graham’s main column--the 1st and
5th divisions with Bradford’s Portuguese and Anson’s Light Dragoons,
on their march towards Orduña. Graham prepared to attack, sent forward
the German Legion light battalions of the 1st Division, and pushed out
Norman Ramsay’s horse artillery, with a cavalry escort, to the right
of Osma, forming the rest of his force for a general advance across
the Bilbao road. After estimating the strength of the British, Reille
appeared at first inclined to fight, or at least to show an intention
of fighting. But a new enemy suddenly came up--the 4th Division
appeared on a side road, descending from the hills on the right of
Graham’s line. It had just time to throw out its light companies to
skirmish[525] when Reille, seeing himself obviously outnumbered and
outflanked, retreated hastily on Espejo; the 5th Division followed him
on the left, with some tiraillade, the 4th Division on the right, but
he was not caught. ‘Considerable fire on both sides but little done,’
remarked an observer on the hillside[526]. Reille’s loss was probably
about 120 men, nearly all in Sarrut’s division[527]: that of the
British some 50 or 60.

Meanwhile there had been a much more lively fight, with heavier
casualties, a few miles farther south among the mountains nearer the
Ebro. Maucune had started before dawn from Frias, intending to join
Reille by a short cut through the hills, instead of sticking to the
better road along the river-bank by the Puente Lara. He only sent his
guns with a cavalry escort by that route. He was marching with his two
brigades at a considerable distance from each other, the rear one being
hampered by the charge of the divisional transport and baggage.

The leading brigade had reached the hamlet of San Millan and was
resting there by a brook, when British cavalry scouts came in upon
them--these were German Legion Hussars, at the head of the Light
Division, which Wellington had sent by the cross-path over the hills
by La Boveda. The approaching column had been marching along a narrow
road, shrouded by overhanging rocks and high banks, in which it
could neither see nor be seen. On getting the alarm the four French
battalions formed up to fight, in the small open space about the
village, while the head of the British column, Vandeleur’s brigade,
deployed as fast as it could opposite them, and attacked; the 2/95th
and 3rd Caçadores in front line, the 52nd in support. Maucune was
forced to make a stand, because his rear brigade was coming up,
unseen by his enemies, and would have been cut off from him if he had
retreated at once. But when the head of Kempt’s brigade of the Light
Division appeared, and began to deploy to the left of Vandeleur’s, he
saw that he was outnumbered, and gave ground perforce. He had been
driven through the village, and was making off along the road, with
the Rifle battalions in hot pursuit, when his second brigade, with
the baggage in its rear, came on the scene--most unexpected by the
British, for the track by which it emerged issued out between two
perpendicular rocks and had not been noticed. Perceiving the trap into
which they had fallen, the belated French turned off the road, and
made for the hillside to their right, while Kempt’s brigade started
in pursuit, scrambling over the rocky slopes to catch them up. The
line of flight of the French took them past the ground over which
Vandeleur’s men were chasing their comrades of the leading brigade,
and the odd result followed that they came in upon the rear of the
52nd, and, though pursued, seemed to be themselves pursuing. The
Oxfordshire battalion thereupon performed the extraordinary feat of
bringing up its left shoulder, forming line facing to the rear at a
run, and charging backward. They encountered the enemy at the top of
a slope, but the French, seeing themselves between two fires, for
Kempt’s men were following hotly behind them, avoided the collision,
struck off diagonally, and scattering and throwing away their packs
went off in disorder eastward, still keeping up a running fight. The
large majority escaped, and joined Gazan’s troops at Miranda. Meanwhile
the first brigade, pursued by the Rifles and Caçadores, got away in
much better order, and reached Reille’s main body at Espejo. The
transport which had come out of the narrow road too late to follow the
regiments, was captured whole, after a desperate resistance by the
baggage-guard. Maucune got off easily, all things considered, with
the loss of three hundred prisoners, many of them wounded, and all
his impedimenta[528]. The fight was no discredit to the general or
to his men, who saved themselves by presence of mind, when caught at
every disadvantage--inferior troops would have laid down their arms
_en masse_ when they found themselves between two fires in rough and
unknown ground[529]. The total British loss in the two simultaneous
combats of Osma and San Millan was 27 killed and 153 wounded.

Reille, having picked up Maucune’s first brigade at Espejo, continued
his retreat, and got behind the Bayas river at Subijana that night.
The report which he had to send to head-quarters upset all the plans
of Jourdan and the King, and forced them to reconsider their position,
which was obviously most uncomfortable, as their line of defence
along the Ebro was taken in flank, and the proposed succour to Bilbao
made impossible. At least four British divisions had been detected by
Reille, but where were the rest, and where were the Spaniards, who
were known to be in some strength with Wellington? Was the whole Allied
host behind the force which had driven in the Army of Portugal, or
was there some great unseen column executing some further inscrutable
movement?

There was hot discussion at Miranda that night. Reille repeated the
proposition which had already been made at Burgos six days back, that
in consideration of the fact that the army was hopelessly outflanked,
and that its retreat by the high road to Vittoria and Bayonne was
threatened by the presence of Wellington on the Bayas, it should
abandon that line of communication altogether, march down the Ebro,
and take up the line of Pampeluna and Saragossa, rallying Clausel and,
if possible, Suchet, for a general concentration, by which the British
army could be driven back as it had been from Burgos in 1812. Foy and
the Biscay garrisons would have to take care of themselves--it was
unlikely that Wellington would be able to fall upon them, when the
whole of the rest of the French armies of Spain were on his flank, and
taking the offensive against him.

Joseph, for the third time, refused to consider this scheme, alleging,
as before, the Emperor’s strict orders to keep to the Bayonne base, and
to hold on to the great royal _chaussée_. But, as is clear, his refusal
was affected by another consideration which in his eyes had almost
equally decisive weight. Vittoria was crammed with the great convoys
of French and Spanish refugees which had accumulated there, along with
all the plunder of Madrid, and the military material representing
the ‘grand train’ of the whole army of Spain--not to speak of his
own immense private baggage. There had also arrived, within the last
few days, a large consignment of hard cash--the belated arrears of
the allowance which the Emperor had consented to give to the Army of
Spain. One of Foy’s brigades had escorted these fourgons of treasure to
Vittoria, and dropped them there, returning to Bergara with a section
of the refugees in charge, to be passed on to Bayonne.[530] The amount
delivered was not less than five million francs--bitterly needed by the
troops, who were in long arrears. All this accumulation at Vittoria
was in large measure due to the King’s reluctance during the retreat
to order a general shift of all his officials and impedimenta over the
border into France. As long as his ministers, and all the plant of
royalty, remained on the south side of the Pyrenees, he still seemed
a king. And he had hoped to maintain himself first on the Douro, then
about Burgos, then on the Ebro. It was only when this last line was
forced that he made up his mind to surrender his theoretical status,
and think of military considerations alone. The lateness of his
decision was to prove most fatal to his adherents.

Having resolved to order a general retreat on Vittoria, Joseph and
Jourdan took such precautions as seemed possible. Reiterated orders
for haste were sent to Foy and Clausel: the latter was told to
march on Vittoria not on Miranda. Unfortunately he had received the
dispatch sent from Burgos on June 15th, which gave him Miranda as
the concentration-point, and had already gathered his divisions at
Pampeluna on June 18, and started to march by Estella and Logroño
and along the north bank of the Ebro. This gave him two sides
of a triangle to cover, while if he had been assigned the route
Pampeluna-Salvatierra-Vittoria, he would have been saved eighty miles
of road. But on June 9th, when the original orders were issued, no
one could have foreseen, save Wellington, that the critical day of
the campaign would have found the French army far north of the Ebro.
And the new dispatch, sent off on the night of the 18th-19th, started
far too late to reach Pampeluna in time to stop Clausel’s departure
southward. Indeed, it did not catch him up till the battle of Vittoria
had been fought, and the King was a fugitive on the way to France. Foy
received orders a little earlier, though not apparently those sent
directly by the King, but a copy of a dispatch to Thouvenot, governor
of Vittoria, in which the latter was instructed ‘that if General Foy
and his division are in your neighbourhood, you are to bid him give up
his march on Bilbao, and draw in towards Vittoria, unless his presence
is absolutely necessary at the point where he may be at present[531].’
This unhappy piece of wording gave Foy a choice, which he interpreted
as authorizing him to remain at Bergara, so as to cover the high road
to France, a task which he held to be ‘absolutely necessary.’

As to the troops already on the spot, Reille was ordered to defend
the line of the Bayas river, until the armies of the South and Centre
should have had time to get past his rear and reach Vittoria. Gazan
was ordered to collect the whole of the Army of the South at Arminion,
behind Miranda, drawing in at once the considerable detachment which he
had left beyond the Ebro. In this position he was to wait till D’Erlon,
with the Army of the Centre, who had to move up from Haro, ten miles to
the south, should have arrived and have got on to the great _chaussée_.
He was then to follow him, acting as rearguard of the whole force.
Between Arminion and Vittoria the road passes for two miles through the
very narrow defile of Puebla, the bottle-neck through which the Zadorra
river cuts its way from the upland plain of Vittoria to the lower level
of the Ebro valley.

D’Erlon, starting at dawn from Haro, reached Arminion at 10 o’clock
in the morning of the 19th, and pushed up the defile: the head of his
column was just emerging from its northern end when a heavy cannonade
began to be heard in the west. It continued all the time that the
Army of the South was pressing up the defile, and grew nearer. This,
of course, marked the approach of Wellington, driving the covering
force under Reille before him toward the Zadorra. The British
commander-in-chief had slept the night at Berberena near Osma, and had
there drafted a set of orders which considerably modified his original
scheme: probably the change was due to topographical information, newly
garnered up from the countryside. Instead of sending Graham’s column
via Orduña, to cut in on the flank of the _chaussée_ behind Vittoria,
he had resolved to send it by a shorter route, a mere country road
which goes by Luna, Santa Eulalia, and Jocano to Murguia--the village
which it had been ordered on the previous day to reach via Orduña
and the high road. Presumably it had been discovered that this would
save time,--the advantage of using a first-rate track being more than
counterbalanced by the fact that the Orduña road was not only ten miles
longer but crossed and recrossed by steep slopes the main sierra,
which forms the watershed between Biscay and Alava. Or possibly it
was only the discovery that the Luna-Jocano route could be taken by
artillery that settled the matter: if it had been reported useless
for wheeled traffic the old orders might have stood. At any rate, the
turning movement, which was to take Graham into the rear of Vittoria,
was made south of the main mountain chain, and not north of it[532].

Meanwhile, though Graham diverged north-eastward, the rest of the
Army moved straight forward from the valley of the Omecillo to that
of the Bayas in four columns, all parallel to each other, and all
moving by country roads. The 3rd Division was ordered from Berberena to
Carcamo--the 7th followed behind it. The 4th Division with D’Urban’s
cavalry in front, and the Light Division with V. Alten’s hussars in
front, were directed on Subijana and Pobes, keeping in close and
constant communication with each other. Behind them came the cavalry
reserve--R. Hill’s, Grant’s, and Ponsonby’s brigades--also the heavy
artillery. Hill’s column, which had now come up into touch with the
leading divisions, kept to the high road from Osma and Espejo towards
the Puente Lara and the Ebro. But only cavalry reconnaissances went as
far as the river--the mass of the corps turned off eastward when it
had passed Espejo, and moved by Salinas de Añana, so as to come out
into the valley of the Bayas south of the route of the Light Division.
It thus became the right wing of the army which was deploying for the
frontal attack.

It has been mentioned above that a local Spanish force from the
Cantabrian mountains had joined Wellington at Medina de Pomar; this was
the so-called ‘division’, some 3,500 bayonets, of the great guerrillero
of the coast-land, Longa, now no more an irregular but a titular
colonel, while his _partida_ had been reorganized as four battalions
of light infantry. Longa was a tough and persistent fighter--a
case of the ‘survival of the fittest’ among many insurgent chiefs
who had perished. His men were veteran mountaineers, indefatigable
marchers, and skilled skirmishers, if rudimentary in their drill and
equipment. Wellington during the ensuing campaign gave more work to
them than to any other Spanish troops that were at his disposal--save
the Estremaduran division of Morillo, old comrades of Hill’s corps,
to which they had always been attached since 1811. The use which
Wellington now made of Longa’s men was to employ them as a light
covering shield for Graham’s turning force. They had been sent across
the hills from Quincoces[533] on the 17th to occupy Orduña--from thence
they descended on the 19th on to Murguia, thus placing themselves at
the head of the turning column. The object of the arrangement was that,
if the enemy should detect the column, he would imagine it to be a
Spanish demonstration, and not suspect that a heavy British force lay
hid behind the familiar guerrilleros. While Longa was thus brought in
sideways, to form the head of Graham’s column, the other Spanish force
which Wellington was employing was also deflected to join the main
army. Giron’s Galicians, as has been mentioned above, had been sent
by a long sweep through the sierras to demonstrate against Bilbao.
They had reached Valmaseda on the 18th, and their approach had alarmed
all the French garrisons of Biscay. Now, having put themselves in
evidence in the north, they were suddenly recalled, ordered to march by
Amurrio on Orduña and Murguia, and so to fall into the rear of Graham’s
column. The distances were considerable, the roads steep, and Giron
only came up with the Anglo-Portuguese army on the afternoon of the
battle of Vittoria, in which (unlike Longa) he was too late to take
any part. Somewhere on his march from Aguilar to Valmaseda he picked
up a reinforcement, the very small Asturian division of Porlier--three
battalions or 2,400 men--which Mendizabal had sent to join him from the
blockade of Santoña. This raised the Galician Army to a total of some
14,000 bayonets.

The 19th June was a very critical day, as no one knew better than
Wellington. The problem was whether, starting with the heads of
his column facing the line of the Bayas, where Reille had rallied
his three divisions and was standing at bay, he could drive in the
detaining force, and cross the Zadorra in pursuit of it, fast enough to
surprise some part of the French army still in its march up from the
south. And, as an equally important problem, there was the question
whether Graham, marching on Murguia, could reach the upper Zadorra
and cut the great road north of Vittoria, before the French were in
position to cover it. If these operations could be carried out, there
would be a scrambling fight scattered over much ground, rather than
a regular pitched battle. If they could not, there would be a formal
general action on the 20th or 21st against an enemy established in
position--unless indeed King Joseph should choose to continue his
retreat without fighting, which Wellington thought quite possible[534].

Wellington is censured by some critics, including Napier[535], for not
making a swifter advance on the 19th. It is said that a little more
haste would have enabled him to get to Vittoria as soon as the enemy,
and to force him to fight in dislocated disorder on ground which he had
not chosen. This seems unjustifiable. The distance between the camps
of the Allied Army, in front of Osma and Espejo, and Vittoria is some
twenty miles--difficult ground, with the Bayas river flowing through
the midst of it and a formidable position held by 15,000 French behind
that stream. As Reille, conscious how much depended on his gaining
time for the King to retreat from Miranda, was determined to detain
the Allied Army as long as he could, it would have been useless to try
to drive him away by a light attack. The rear of each of Wellington’s
columns was trailing many miles behind the leading brigade. It was
necessary to bring up against Reille a force sufficient to make serious
resistance impossible, and this Wellington did, pushing forward not
only the 4th and Light Divisions, but Hill’s column in support, on the
southern flank. It took time to get them deployed, and the attack was
opened by a cannonade. By the time that a general advance was ordered
Reille had begun to retire--he did so very neatly, and crossed the
Zadorra by the four nearest bridges without any appreciable loss. By
this time the afternoon had arrived, the rest of the French army had
passed the defile of Puebla, and Wellington judged the hour too late
for the commencement of a pitched battle[536]. Moreover, he did not
intend to fight without the co-operation of Graham’s column, and the
latter was not where he would have wished it to be. The day had been
very rainy, the cross roads were bad, and by some error of staff-work
the head of the column had not received the countermarching orders
directing it to march direct on Murguia, but had started in accordance
with the earlier plan on to the Orduña road; the 1st and 5th Divisions
had gone some way upon it before they were recalled and counter-marched
into the right path[537]. Owing to blocks and bad weather they only
reached Jocano, some six or eight miles east of Osma, by six in the
evening. Murguia was still nine miles ahead, the rain was still falling
in torrents, and Graham ordered the divisions to halt and encamp for
the night. The fate of the campaign was not to be fought out that day,
nor on the next, but on the third morning--that of June 21st, 1813.

SECTION XXXVI: CHAPTER VII

THE BATTLE OF VITTORIA. JUNE 21, 1813

(A) THE FIRST STAGE

The plain of Vittoria, into which the French army debouched on the
afternoon of June 19th, is a plain only by comparison with the high
hills which surround it on all sides, being an oval expanse of rolling
ground drained by the swift and narrow Zadorra river, which runs
on its north-eastern side. Only in its northern section, near the
city, does it show really flat ground. It is about twelve miles long
from north-east to south-west, and varies from six to eight miles in
breadth. The Zadorra is one of those mountain streams which twist in
numberless loops and bends of alternate shallows and deep pools, in
order to get round rocks or spurs which stand in the way of their
direct course[538]. At one point seven miles down-stream from Vittoria
it indulges in a complete ‘hairpin-bend’ in which are the bridges of
Tres Puentes and Villodas, as it circles round a precipitous knoll. At
several other spots it executes minor loops in its tortuous course.
The little city of Vittoria stands on an isolated rising ground at its
northern end, very visible from all directions, and dominating the
whole upland with two prominent church spires at its highest point.
The great road from France enters the plain of Vittoria and the valley
of the Zadorra three miles north-east of the city, descending from the
defile of Salinas, a long and difficult pass in which Mina and other
guerrilleros had executed some of their most daring raids on French
convoys. After passing Vittoria the road keeps to the middle of the
upland in a westerly direction, and issues from it by the defile of La
Puebla, where the Zadorra cuts its way through the Sierra de Andia in
order to join the Ebro. There is not much more than room for road and
river in the gorge, which is dominated by the heights of La Puebla,
a spur of the Andia, on the east, and by a corresponding but lower
range, the end of the heights of Morillas on the west.

But the Bayonne _chaussée_ is by no means the only road in the Vittoria
upland. The city is the meeting point of a number of second-class and
third-class routes, debouching from various subsidiary valleys of the
Pyrenees and leading to various towns in Navarre or Biscay. Of these
the chief were (1) the Salvatierra-Pampeluna road, running due east,
and then crossing from the valley of the Zadorra to the upper waters
of the Araquil, by which it descends into Navarre. This was a route
practicable for artillery or transport, but narrow, ill repaired, and
steep--eminently not a line to be taken by a large force in a hurry;
(2) the main road to Bilbao by Villareal and Durango, a coach road, but
very tortuous, and ascending high mountains by long curves and twists;
(3) the alternative coach route to Bilbao by Murguia and Orduña, easier
than the Villareal road in its first section, but forced to cross the
main chain of the Pyrenees by difficult gradients before descending
into Biscay; (4) a bad side road to the central Ebro, going due south
by Trevino and La Guardia to Logroño; (5) a similar route, running due
east from Subijana on the Bayas to the bridges of Nanclares three miles
up-stream from the defile of Puebla. At the opening of the battle of
Vittoria Graham’s column was already across the Murguia-Bilbao road,
and in its earliest advance blocked the Durango-Bilbao road also. Thus
the only route beside the great _chaussée_ available for the French was
that to Salvatierra and Pampeluna. The road to Trevino and Logroño was
useless, as leading in an undesired direction.

In addition to these five coach roads there were several country tracks
running from various points on the Bayas river to minor bridges on the
Zadorra, across the lofty Monte Arrato, the watershed between the two
streams. It was these fifth-rate tracks which Wellington used on the
battle-day for the advance of some of his central columns, while Hill
on the right was forcing the defile of La Puebla, and Graham on the
left was descending from Murguia on to the bridges of the upper Zadorra
north-east of Vittoria.

Having their troops safely concentrated east of the Zadorra on the
evening of June 19, Joseph and Jourdan made up their minds to stand
on the position behind that river, even though Clausel had not yet
come up, nor sent any intelligence as to the route by which he was
arriving. Aides-de-camp were searching for him in all directions--but
nothing had yet been ascertained, beyond the fact that he had started
from Pampeluna on June 15th, marching on Logroño[539]. There was a
high chance that some one of many missives would reach him, and turn
him on to Vittoria. But the idea that Clausel must now be very near at
hand was less operative in compelling Joseph to fight than the idea
that he must at all cost save the vast convoys accumulated around him,
his treasure, his military train, his ministers, and his refugees. He
was getting them off northward by the high road as fast as he could:
one convoy marched on the 20th, under the charge of the troops of the
Army of the North who had formed the garrison of Vittoria, another
and a larger at dawn on the 21st, escorted by the whole of Maucune’s
division. It had with it many of the Old Masters stolen from the royal
palace at Madrid--the pictures of Titian, Rafael, and Velasquez, which
had been the pride of the old dynasty--with the pick of the royal
armoury and cabinet of Natural History[540]. It is almost as difficult
to make out how Joseph, already unequal in numbers to his enemy, dared
to deprive himself of Maucune’s division of the Army of Portugal, as
to discover why Wellington left the 6th Division at Medina de Pomar.
It does not seem that the morale of the unit had been shaken by its
rude experience at San Millan on the 18th, for it fought excellently in
subsequent operations: nor had it suffered any disabling losses in that
fight. A more obvious escort might have been found in Casapalacios’
Spanish auxiliaries, who had already been utilized for similar purposes
between Madrid and Vittoria, or in the scraps of the Army of the North
which had lately joined the retreating host. But they remained for the
battle, while Maucune marched north, with the cannon sounding behind
him all day.

When Jourdan and Joseph first arrayed their host for the expected
battle, it would seem, from the line which they took up, that they
imagined that Wellington would attack them only from the direction
of the Bayas, and paid no attention to Graham’s flanking movement,
though afterwards they wrote dispatches to prove that they had not
ignored it. For they drew up the Army of the South on a short front,
from the exit of the defile of Puebla on the south to the bridge of
Villodas on the north, a front of three miles, with D’Erlon’s two
divisions in second line on each side of the village of Gomecha, two
miles farther back, and the Army of Portugal and the King’s Guards as
a third line in reserve about Zuazo, not far in front of Vittoria,
along with the bulk of the cavalry. This order of battle, as a glance
at the map shows, presupposed a frontal attack from the line of the
Bayas, where Wellington was known to be. It was ill-suited to face an
attack from the north-west on the line of the Zadorra above Villodas,
and still more so an attack from the due north by the roads from Orduña
and Murguia. On the morning of the 20th cavalry reconnaissances went
out to look for the Allied Army--they reported that the camps along
the Bayas above Subijana Morillos did not seem very large, and that
on the Murguia road they had fallen in with and pushed back Longa’s
irregulars, obviously a Spanish demonstration[541]. ‘No indication
being available of the details of a projected attack, and further
information being unprocurable, only conjectures could be made[542].’

It is interesting to know from the narrative of Jourdan himself what
these conjectures were. ‘Wellington,’ he writes, ‘had shown himself
since the start of the campaign more disposed to manœuvre his opponents
out of their positions, by constantly turning their right wing, than to
attack them frontally and force on a battle. It was thought probable
that, pursuing this system, he would march on Bilbao by Orduña, and
from thence on Durango, so as to force them to fall back promptly on
Mondragon[543], in order to retain their communications with France. He
might even hope to force them to evacuate Spain by this move, because
it would be impossible to feed a great army on that section of the
Pyrenees. The King, knowing that Clausel was on the move, had little
fear of the results of a march on Bilbao, for on receiving Clausel’s
corps he would be strong enough to take the offensive himself, and
would strike at Wellington’s communications. It did not escape him
that if the enemy, instead of wasting more time on flank movements,
should attack him before the arrival of Clausel, he was in a perilous
position. For there was little chance of getting the better of an
adversary who had about double numbers, and a lost battle would cut
off the army from the road to France, and force it to retire on
Pampeluna by a road difficult, if not impracticable, for the train
and artillery of a great host. To avoid the risk of an instant attack
from Wellington, ought we to fall back and take up the position above
the pass of Salinas?[544] But to do this was to sacrifice the junction
with Clausel, who was expected on the 21st at latest. And how could
the army have been fed in the passes? The greater part of the cavalry
and the artillery horses would have had to be sent back to France at
once--famine would have forced the infantry to follow. Then the King
would have been accused of cowardice, for evacuating Spain without
trying the fortune of battle. To justify such a retreat we should have
had to be _certain_ that we were to be attacked before the 22nd, and
we considered that, if Wellington did decide to fight, it would be
unlikely that he could do so before the 22nd, because of the difficulty
of the roads which he had taken. After mature consideration of the
circumstance the King resolved to stand fast at Vittoria.’

Putting aside the gross over-estimate of Wellington’s strength--he
fought with a superiority of 75,000[545] to 57,000, not with two to
one--the main point to note in this curious and interesting argument
is its defective psychology. Because Wellington had hitherto avoided
frontal attacks, when flank movements suited him better, was it safe
to conclude that he would do so _ad infinitum_? That he was capable of
a sudden onslaught was obvious to every one who remembered the battle
of Salamanca. Why, if he were about to repeat his previous encircling
policy, should he go by Orduña, Bilbao, and Durango, rather than by
the shorter turn Osma-Murguia-Vittoria? Apparently the French staff
underrated the possibilities of that road, and took the presence of
Longa upon it as a sign that it was only to be used for a Spanish
demonstration[546]. Should not the speed with which Wellington had
traversed the detestable country paths between the Arlanzon and the
Ebro have served as a warning that, if he chose to push hard, he could
cover at a very rapid rate the rather less formidable tracks north
of the Zadorra? In short, the old marshal committed the not uncommon
fault of making false deductions from an imperfect set of premises. It
is much more difficult to say what should have been his actual course
under the existing circumstances of June 20. Napier holds that he might
still have adopted Reille’s old plan of June 12 and June 18, i.e. that
he should have thrown up the line of communication with France by
the high road, have made ready to retreat on Pampeluna instead of on
Bayonne, and have looked forward to making Saragossa his base. After
having picked up first Clausel and then so much of the Army of Aragon
as could be collected, he might have got 100,000 men together and have
started an offensive campaign[547]. This overlooks the impossibility of
getting the convoys and train safely along the bad road from Vittoria
to Pampeluna, and the difficulty of making Saragossa, where there were
no great accumulations of stores and munitions, the base of an army
of the size projected. All communication with France would have been
thrown on the hopelessly long and circuitous route from Saragossa to
Perpignan, for the pass by Jaca was impracticable for wheeled traffic.
Certainly Joseph would have had to destroy, as a preliminary measure to
a retreat via Salvatierra or Pampeluna, the greater part of his train.
And what would have become of his wretched horde of refugees?

Another school of critics--among them Belmas--urge that while it was
perfectly correct to cling as a primary necessity to the great road to
France, Vittoria was not the right point at which to defend it, but the
pass of Salinas. Jourdan’s objection that the cavalry would be useless
in the mountains is declared to have little weight, and his dread of
famine to be groundless. For Wellington could not have remained for
many days in front of the passes--he must have attacked at once a very
formidable position, or Foy and the other troops in Biscay would have
had time to join the King; and with 15,000 extra bayonets the French
would have been hard to dislodge. The danger to Clausel would have
been not very great, since Wellington would not have dared to detach a
force sufficient to crush him, while the main French army was in his
front, intact and ready to resume the offensive. And on the other flank
Biscay, no doubt, would have been exposed to an invasion by Giron’s
Galicians, when Foy had withdrawn its garrisons to join the main army.
But it is improbable that this movement would have been backed by any
large section of the Anglo-Portuguese force; for Wellington, as his
previous action showed, was intending to keep all his own old divisions
in one body. He would not have risked any of his own troops between
the Pyrenees and the sea, by trying to thrust them in on the back of
the French position, to Durango or Mondragon. And if Giron alone went
to Bilbao and Durango, his presence in that direction, and any threats
which he might make on the King’s rear, would be tiresome rather than
dangerous.

Be this as it may, whatever the general policy of Jourdan and Joseph
should have been, their particular dispositions for occupying the
Vittoria position were very faulty. It was as well known to every
practical soldier then as it is now, that a normal river-position
cannot be held by a continuous line of troops placed at the water’s
edge. For there will be loops and bends at which the ground on one’s
own side is commanded and enfiladed by higher ground on the enemy’s
side. If troops are pushed forward into such bends, they will be
crushed by artillery fire, or run danger of being cut off by attacks
on the neck of the loop in their rear[548]. Unless the general who
has to defend a river front is favoured with a stream in front of him
absolutely straight, and with all the commanding ground on his own side
(an unusual chance), he must rather look to arranging his army in such
a fashion as to hold as strong points all the favourable sections of
the front, while the unfavourable ones must be watched from suitable
positions drawn back from the water’s edge. By judicious disposition
of artillery, the occupation and preparation of villages, woods, or
other cover, and (if necessary) the throwing up of trenches, the enemy,
though he cannot be prevented from crossing the river at certain
points, can be kept from debouching out of the sections of the hither
bank which he has mastered. And if he loads up the captured ground
with heavy masses of troops which cannot get forward, he will suffer
terribly from artillery fire, while if he does not hold them strongly,
he will be liable to counter-attacks, which will throw the troops who
have crossed back into the river. The most elementary precaution for
the general on the defensive to take is, of course, to blow up all
bridges, and to place artillery to command all fords, also to have
local reserves ready at a proper distance behind every section where a
passage is likely to be tried[549].

We may excuse Joseph and Jourdan for not entrenching all the weak
sections of their front--hasty field works were little used in the
Peninsular War; indeed the trenches which Wellington threw up on the
second day of Fuentes de Oñoro were an almost unique instance of such
an expedient. But the other precautions to be taken were commonplaces
of contemporary tactics. And they were entirely neglected. The front
liable to attack was very long for the size of the defending army:
whole sections of it were neglected. Bridges and fords were numerous
on the Zadorra: incredible as it may seem, not one of eleven bridges
between Durana to the north and Nanclares to the south was blown up.
The numerous fords seem not to have been known accurately to either
the attacking or the defending generals, but some of the most obvious
of them were ignored in Joseph’s original disposition of his troops.
Several alike of bridges and fords were lightly watched by cavalry
only, with no further precaution taken. What is most astonishing is to
find that bridges which were actually used by French exploring parties
on June 20th, so that their existence was thoroughly realized, were
found intact and in some cases unguarded on the 21st[550]. The fact
would seem to be that the King’s head-quarters staff was dominated
by a false idea: that Wellington’s attack would be delivered on the
south part of the river front, from the defile of Puebla to the bridge
of Villodas; and that the troops discovered on the Murguia road were
Longa’s irregulars only, bound on a demonstration. An acute British
observer remarked that the French position had two main defects--the
more important one was that it faced the wrong way[551]: this was quite
true.

The final arrangement, as taken up on the morning of June 20 was that
the Army of the South arrayed itself so as to block the debouches from
the defile of La Puebla and the bridges immediately up-stream from
it--those of Nanclares and Villodas. Gazan did not occupy the entrance
of the defile of La Puebla--to do so he must have stretched his line
farther south and east than his numbers permitted. But he held its
exits, with some voltigeur companies from Maransin’s brigade, perched
high up on the culminating ground immediately above the river.

From this lofty point on the heights of Puebla his first line stretched
north-eastward along a line of low hills, past the villages of Subijana
(low down and not far from the Puebla heights) and Ariñez (on the high
road, at the spot where it crosses the position), a dominating point
on the sky-line. The right wing nearly reached to the Zadorra at the
spot where it makes the ‘hairpin bend’ alluded to above. But the solid
occupation by formed troops did not extend so far: there were only a
cavalry regiment and three guns watching the bridge of Mendoza[552],
and a single company of voltigeurs watching that of Villodas. The
disposition of the units was, counting from the French left, first
Maransin’s brigade occupying Subijana, next Conroux’s division in a
single line on the slopes to the north of the village of Zumelzu,
with a battalion holding a wood in front on lower ground. Then came
Daricau’s division, one brigade in front line across the high road,
the other brigade (St. Pol’s) in reserve north of the road, and in
rear of Leval’s division, which was deployed on the prominent height
in front of the village of Ariñez, which formed the end of the main
position. Between Leval and the Zadorra there was only Avy’s few
squadrons of light horse, watching the bridge of Mendoza. Nearly a mile
to the rear of the main line Villatte’s division stood in reserve, on
the heights on the other side of Ariñez, and with it Pierre Soult’s
cavalry. The position was heavily gunned, as artillery support went
in those days. Each of the three front-line divisions had its battery
with it--a fourth belonging to Pierre Soult’s cavalry was placed
on a knoll in front of the position, from which it could sweep the
approaches from the bridge of Nanclares. In reserve behind Ariñez was
not only Villatte’s battery, but two others drawn from the general
artillery park, and during the early stage of the battle another pair
of batteries, belonging to the Army of Portugal, were sent to join
Leval’s divisional guns on the north end of the position. Gazan had
therefore some 54 pieces in hand, without counting the half-battery of
horse artillery belonging to Digeon’s dragoons, which was absent far to
his extreme right, by the banks of the upper Zadorra.

Three-quarters of a mile behind Gazan’s reserves, the whole Army of
the Centre was deployed on each side of the high road, Darmagnac’s
division north of it in front of Zuazo, Cassagne’s division south of
it, level with Gomecha. Treillard’s dragoons were behind Cassagne;
Avy’s chasseurs (as has been mentioned above) were watching the Zadorra
on the right.

In the original order of battle of the 20th the Army of Portugal had
been in third line, a mile behind the Army of the Centre, on a level
with the villages of Ali and Armentia. But when Digeon’s dragoons
reported in the afternoon that they had discovered Longa’s column on
the Murguia road, it was decided that a flank guard must be thrown out
in that direction, to cover Vittoria and the high road to France from
possible raids. Wherefore Reille was told that it would be his duty to
provide against this danger. He took out Menne’s brigade of Sarrut’s
division from the line, pushed it over the Zadorra, and established
it in a position level with Aranguiz on the Murguia road, a mile and
more beyond the river. Late at night, apparently on a report from a
deserter that there were British troops behind Longa[553]--(indeed the
man said that Wellington himself was on the Bilbao road)--Reille took
off the other brigade of Sarrut’s division in the same direction, and
sent it with Curto’s regiments of light horse to join Menne. There
remained in front of Vittoria of infantry only Lamartinière’s division,
and the King’s Guards; but there was a very large body of cavalry in
reserve--Tilly’s and Digeon’s dragoon divisions of the Army of the
South, the King’s two Guard regiments of lancers, and the bulk of the
horse of the Army of Portugal, Boyer’s dragoons and Mermet’s chasseurs:
there must have been 5,000 sabres or more in hand.

One further precaution was taken--lest the enemy might be moving
against the high road to France from points even more to the north
than Murguia, a trifling force was sent to cover the exit of the
_chaussée_ from the pass of Salinas; this was the Spanish ‘division’
of Casapalacios belonging to the Army of the Centre, strengthened by
some scraps of the French troops of the Army of the North, which had
come in from minor garrisons during the recent retreat. Casapalacios’
_Afrancesados_, nominally three regiments strong, were under 2,000
bayonets--they had with them five weak squadrons of their own nation,
a half-battery, also Spanish, and an uncertain (but small) French
auxiliary force, which included a battalion of the 3rd Line, part of
the 15th Chasseurs, and a section of guns equipped from the artillery
dépôt of the Army of the North, which had long been established at
Vittoria and had not been sent to the rear[554]. Casapalacios took post
at Durana, covering the bridge of that village, the most northerly one
on the Zadorra: the French battalion was at Gamarra Menor on the other
side of the water.

Wellington spent the 20th in arranging for the general attack, which
he had determined to deliver if Joseph stood his ground. The plan was
ambitious, for the battlefield was far larger than any on which the
Anglo-Portuguese Army had ever fought before, and the numbers available
were 30,000 more than they had been at Salamanca or Bussaco, and more
than double those of Fuentes de Oñoro. Moreover, he intended to operate
with a great detached turning force against the enemy’s flank and rear,
a thing that he had only once done before--at Salamanca--and then only
with a single division. The battle plan was essentially a time-problem:
he had to arrange for the simultaneous appearance of four separate
masses in front of the French position. All started from parallel
points in the valley of the Bayas, but the obstacles in front of them
were of very varying difficulty, and the distances to be covered were
very different.

(1) Hill, with the large 2nd Division (four brigades), Silveira’s
Portuguese division, Morillo’s Spaniards, and V. Alten’s and Fane’s
light dragoons, 20,000 sabres and bayonets in all, was to cross the
Zadorra completely outside the extreme French left wing, to storm the
heights of Puebla, which formed the end of Gazan’s line, and then,
advancing from the defile, to strike at Subijana de Alava with his main
body, while continuing to thrust his flank along the heights above,
which dominated the whole region, and extended far behind the enemy’s
left wing.

(2) Two parallel columns were to march from the camps on the Bayas;
one consisting of the 4th and Light Divisions, R. Hill’s, Grant’s, and
Ponsonby’s cavalry brigades, and D’Urban’s Portuguese horse, was to
advance by the country road from Subijana-Morillas to the two bridges
of Nanclares. Opposite those passages and the neighbouring ones it was
to deploy, and to attack the French centre, when Hill should have got a
footing on the Puebla heights and in the plain by Subijana. The second
column, consisting of the 3rd and 7th Divisions, was to move from Zuazo
and Anda on the Bayas across the high mountain called Monte Arrato by
a country track, and to descend into the valley of the Zadorra at Las
Guetas, opposite the bridge of Mendoza, up-stream from the ‘hairpin
bend’. In this position it would be almost in the rear of Gazan’s right
wing above Villodas: it was to attack at once on reaching its ground,
if the progress of Hill on the south was seen to be satisfactory. ‘The
movement to be regulated from the right: although these columns are to
make such movements in advance as may be evidently necessary to favour
the progress of the two columns on their right, they are not to descend
into the low ground toward Vittoria or the great road.’ The total
strength of the four divisions and cavalry of this section of the army
was about 30,000 sabres and bayonets.

(3) Graham’s column-head was at Olano, three miles in front of Murguia,
and six from the Zadorra. He had in front Longa’s Spanish infantry,
with whom Anson’s light dragoons were to join up when operations should
begin. Behind were the 1st and 5th Divisions, Pack’s and Bradford’s
Portuguese brigades, and Bock’s heavy dragoons. The total force was
about 20,000 men of all nations. As an afterthought on the 20th
Wellington directed Giron, who was to reach Orduña that day, to come
down to the upper Bayas in Graham’s rear, where he would act as a
support if necessary. The object of this order is not quite obvious.
Giron came down too late for the battle, arriving at Murguia only in
the afternoon. It is known from his own dispatches that Wellington
over-estimated Reille’s force, which Graham had to fight, not knowing
of Maucune’s departure[555], and Giron may have been intended to add
weight to the attack in this quarter. His troops would, apparently,
have been more usefully placed if they had been sent from Murguia to
attack the unguarded upper fords of the Zadorra.

The orders issued to Graham gave him a rather perplexing choice of
action. He was (like the 3rd and 7th Divisions) to guide himself by
what was going on upon his right: he must get in touch at once with
the centre columns; he might attack if it was obviously profitable
to the main advance, but he was to avoid letting his whole corps be
drawn into close action in front of Vittoria, for his main object must
be to turn the enemy’s position, by getting round its right wing and
cutting the great road to France. The lack of precise direction in this
order is, no doubt, a testimony to Wellington’s confidence in Graham’s
judgement. But it cast a grave responsibility on him: if he had been
told simply that he was to turn the French right and seize the great
_chaussée_, matters would have been simple. But he is given leave to
attack frontally if circumstances farther down the line seem to make
such a policy desirable: yet he must not attack so heavily as to make
his great turning movement impossible. It must be confessed that the
difficult problem was not well solved that day by the gallant old
general.

The whole day of the 20th was spent in getting the columns into order,
and the arrangements for the attacks synchronized. Wellington took a
survey of all the routes in person, as his wont was. It was not till
late in the afternoon that he became certain from the dispositions of
the enemy that an eleventh hour retreat was not contemplated by the
King[556]. The timing was that Hill, who had a few miles to march,
should attack at eight in the morning, that both Graham and the column
consisting of the 3rd and 7th Divisions should get into position by
the same hour, and make ready to attack, when it was clear that the
flank movement of Hill had already begun and was making good progress.
Meanwhile the other central column, the Light and 4th Divisions, should
cross when Hill had won the defile of Puebla and room to debouch beyond
it, but not before. The rather late hour fixed, in a month when dawn
comes at 4 a.m., was dictated by the fact that Hill had a river to
cross, and the 3rd and 7th Divisions mountain tracks to follow, which
neither could have negotiated in the dark. Some hours of daylight
were needed to get them into position. Even so the brigades of the
left-centre column were several hours late at their rendezvous.

The French commanders, as we have seen, made no move on the 20th, save
to hurry off convoys and to throw back Reille on the north-west flank
of Vittoria, to protect the royal _chaussée_ and the two Bilbao roads.
Jourdan wrote to Clarke that evening a perfectly sensible dispatch
as to the difficulties of the situation, but one which showed that
he was wholly unaware that he might be forced to a general action
within the next twelve hours. All depended, he said, on Clausel’s
prompt arrival: if he should come up on the 21st there was no danger:
if he delayed, the army might have to choose between two tiresome
alternatives--a retreat on the pass of Salinas and one on Pampeluna.
If Wellington, as he suspected, was making a great turning movement by
Orduña and Durango, the army would be forced to take the wretched road
Salvatierra-Pampeluna. ‘The King does not yet know what decision he
will have to make: if General Clausel delays his junction much longer,
he will be forced to choose the retreat into Navarre.’ Of any idea that
Wellington was about to attack next morning the dispatch shows no sign.

Jourdan had been indisposed all that day--he was laid up in bed
with a feverish attack. This caused the postponement of a general
reconnaissance of the position, which he and his King had intended to
carry out together. They rode forth, however, at 6 a.m. on the 21st.
‘No intelligence had come to hand,’ writes Jourdan in his memoirs,
‘which could cause us to foresee an instant attack. We arrived at the
position by Zuazo, from which Count Reille had been recently moved, and
stopped to examine it. Its left rested on the mountain-chain in the
direction of Berostigueta, its right came down to the Zadorra behind
La Hermandad and Crispijana. It is dominating, yet not over steep, and
has all along it good artillery emplacement for many batteries. It
connected itself much better than does the Ariñez position with the
ground about Aranguiz now occupied by Reille, which might be heavily
attacked. Struck with the advantages of this position, the King
appeared inclined to bring back the Army of the South to occupy it, and
to place the Army of the Centre between it and the Army of Portugal.
The three armies would have been closer together, and more able to give
each other rapid assistance; and the eye of the Commander-in-Chief
could have swept around the whole of this more concentrated field
in one glance. This change of dispositions would probably have been
carried out on the 20th if Marshal Jourdan had not been indisposed, and
might perhaps have prevented the catastrophe that was to come. But the
officer sent to call General Gazan to confer with the King came back
to say that the general could not leave his troops, as an attack on
him was developing. It was judged too late to change position. Riding
to the front of Ariñez, to a long hill occupied by Leval’s division,
on the right of the Army of the South, the King saw that in fact the
enemy was on the move. About eight o’clock the posts on the mountain
reported that the Allies had passed the Zadorra above La Puebla: a
strong column was coming up the high road and the defile, a smaller one
had diverged to its right and was climbing the mountain itself. General
Avy, sent on reconnaissance beyond the Zadorra on the side of Mendoza,
reported at the same time that a large corps was coming in on Tres
Puentes behind the rear of General Leval. And he could see signs in the
woods opposite, which seemed to indicate the march of other troops in
the direction of the bridge of Nanclares. No news had yet come in from
Reille, but we prepared ourselves to hear ere long that he, too, was
attacked[557]’.

It is unnecessary to comment on the character of a Head-quarters where
a passing indisposition of the Chief of the Staff causes all movements
to be postponed for eighteen hours, at a moment when a general action
is obviously possible. But it is necessary to point out that the
existing dislocation of the troops left three miles of the Zadorra
front between Reille’s left and Gazan’s right unguarded when the battle
began, and that this had been the case throughout the preceding day.
And during that day who was responsible for the fact that not a single
one of the eleven bridges between the defile of La Puebla and Durana
had been ruined and only three obstructed[558]? Gazan must take a good
deal of responsibility, no less than Jourdan.

At eight o’clock on the morning of the 21st the action commenced, on a
most beautiful clear day, contrasting wonderfully with the heavy rain
of the 19th and intermittent showers on the 20th. Every hill-crest road
and village for twenty miles was visible with surprising sharpness, so
much so that incidents occurring at a great distance were easily to be
followed by the naked eye, still more easily by the staff officer’s
telescope.

The clash began, as Wellington had intended, on the extreme right. Here
Hill’s columns crossed the Zadorra, where it broadened out below the
defile of La Puebla, far outside the French line. The 2nd Division led
up the high road, with Cadogan’s brigade heading the column; but before
they entered the narrows, Morillo’s Spaniards were pushed forward on
their right, through a wood which covered the lower slopes, to seize
the spur of the Puebla heights immediately above the road. Till this
was cleared, it would be impossible to move the 2nd Division forward.
Eye-witnesses describe the deploying of the Spanish column as clearly
visible from the high ground on the Monte Arrato heights: the first
brigade appeared emerging from the woods below, then came stiffer
ground, ‘so steep that while moving up it they looked as if they were
lying on their faces or crawling[559]’ Then the smoke of the French
skirmishing fire began to be visible on the crest, while Morillo’s
second brigade, deployed behind the first, went up the heights in
support. The enemy, who was not in great strength at first, gave way,
and the Estremadurans won the sky-line, formed there, and began to
drive up from the first summit to the next above it. This also they
won, but then came to stand--Gazan had pushed up first one and then
the other of the two regiments of Maransin’s brigade from his left, on
the main position, to support the voltigeur companies which had been
the only troops originally placed on this lofty ground. Hill, seeing
the advance on the mountain stop, sent up, to help Morillo, Colonel
Cadogan, with his own regiment the 71st, and all the light companies of
Cadogan’s and Byng’s brigades. This turned the fight, and after a stiff
struggle for the second summit, in which Morillo was severely wounded,
Maransin’s brigade was turned back and flung down hill: it halted and
re-formed low down on the slope, losing the crest completely.

Having his flank now reasonably safe, Hill turned off the other two
battalions of Cadogan’s brigade to follow the 71st, and then pushed
his second British brigade (O’Callaghan’s) up the defile of La Puebla,
and deployed it on the open ground opposite the village of Subijana de
Alava, which lay near the high road, and was the first obstacle to be
carried if the whole corps was to issue forth and attack the French
left. One battery moved up with the brigade, and got into action on
a slope to its right. The rest of the 2nd Division and Silveira’s
Portuguese issued from the defile, ready to act as reserve either to
Morillo on the heights or O’Callaghan in the open ground. Meanwhile the
enemy could be seen dispatching troops from his reserves, to attack the
spurs of the mountain which had been won by Morillo and Cadogan. For
the heights of Puebla commanded all the left flank of the main French
position, and, if Allied troops pushed along them any further, Gazan’s
line would be completely turned. Jourdan says that his orders were
that Maransin’s brigade should have attacked, with a whole division in
support, but that Gazan took upon him the responsibility of sending in
Maransin alone, and only later, when the latter had been beaten down
from the crest, first Rey’s brigade of Conroux’s division and then St.
Pol’s reserve brigade of Daricau’s division, from the hill on the right
behind Leval. It would seem that Daricau’s two regiments took post on
the slopes behind Subijana, where there was a gap in the line, owing
to Maransin’s departure, while Rey and his brigade went up the Puebla
heights, to try to head off Morillo’s and Cadogan’s attack.

In this it was wholly unsuccessful: after a severe struggle on
the crest, in which Cadogan was mortally wounded[560], the French
reinforcements were checked and routed: the Allied troops began to push
forward again on the heights, and were getting right round the flank
of Gazan’s left wing, while Maransin’s troops on the lower slopes were
being contained by the 92nd and 50th, the rear regiments of Cadogan’s
brigade, and Daricau’s were hotly engaged with O’Callaghan’s three
battalions, which occupied Subijana and then attacked the hillside
above it, but failed for some time to secure a lodgement there.

Jourdan was by this time growing anxious, and not without reason, at
the rapid progress of the Allies on the Puebla heights. He ordered
Gazan to send up at once his only remaining reserve, Villatte’s
division from the height behind Ariñez, to gain the crest at a point
farther east than any that the enemy could reach, and to attack in
mass along it. In order that he might not be forestalled on the
summit, Villatte was told to march by a long détour, through the
village of Esquivel far to the east, where there was a country road
debouching from the _chaussée_. Indeed so perturbed was the Marshal by
the threat to his left, that he suspected further turning movements
in this quarter, and sent orders for Tilly’s dragoons, from the
cavalry reserve, to ride out by Berostigueta to the Trevino road, to
see if there were no British columns pressing in from that quarter.
He also directed D’Erlon to move one of his two infantry divisions,
Cassagne’s, in the same direction, to support Tilly if necessary.
Gazan, if we may credit his long and contentious report on the battle,
suggested to Jourdan that it was dangerous to disgarnish his centre,
and to push so many troops to his left, while it was still uncertain
whether Wellington’s column-heads, visible on the other side of the
Zadorra, were not about to move. Might not Hill’s attack be a feint,
intended to draw off the French reserves in an eccentric direction?
The Marshal, says Gazan, then declared in a loud voice, so that all
around could hear ‘that the enemy’s movements opposite our right are
mere demonstrations, to which no attention should be paid, and that if
the battle were lost it would be because the heights oi the left of
Subijana remained in the enemy’s power[561].’ Then lay the real danger.

Orders were given that when Villatte should have got on the crest of
the mountain, and should be delivering his attack, a simultaneous move
forward was to be made by Conroux, and the brigades of Maransin and St.
Pol, to cast the enemy out of Subijana, as well as off the heights of
Puebla. It is interesting to note that Hill had as yet only engaged two
British brigades, and one small Spanish division, and had succeeded in
attracting against himself a much larger force--the whole of Conroux’s
and Villatte’s divisions, and the two brigades of Maransin and St. Pol.
In the French centre and right there remained now only Leval’s division
and the remaining brigade of Daricau’s, and in reserve there was only
one of D’Erlon’s divisions, since the other had gone off on a wild
goose chase toward the Trevino road. Wellington could have wished for
nothing better.

But by the time that the French counter-attack on Hill’s corps was
developing, matters were beginning to look lively all along the line of
the Zadorra, and the combat on the heights was growing into a general
action. It was now about eleven o’clock, and Wellington had been for
some time established on a high bank above the river, facing the centre
of the French position, to the left of the village and bridges of
Nanclares, from which he could sweep with his glass the whole landscape
from the heights of La Puebla to the bridge of Mendoza. To his left and
right the Light and 4th Divisions lay in two masses, a mile or more
back from the river, and hidden very carefully in folds of the Monte
Arrato, the battalions in contiguous close column lying down in hollow
roads or behind outcrops of rock, and showing as little as possible.
The great mass of cavalry in reserve, four brigades, had not been
brought over the sky-line yet, and lay some distance to the rear. Only
Grant’s hussars were near the Light Division, dismounted and standing
to their horses in covered ground. The French lines were perfectly
visible, ‘unmasked, without a bush to prevent the sweeping of their
artillery, the charging of their cavalry, or the fire of their musketry
acting with full effect on those who should attempt to cross the
bridges in their front, which it was necessary to carry before we could
begin the attack on their centre[562],’ King Joseph and his staff were
conspicuous on the round hill before Ariñez.

Hill’s advance having begun, and made good progress, Wellington was
watching for the two other movements which ought to have coincided with
the attempt to cross the river at Nanclares for the frontal attack.
They had neither of them developed as yet: at least nothing was to be
seen of the 3rd and 7th Divisions on the down-slope of the lofty Monte
Arrato, and there had not yet been any heavy burst of cannonading
from the upper Zadorra (which was not visible from the spot where the
Commander-in-Chief had placed himself), to tell that Graham was engaged.

The reason for the comparative silence in this quarter was undoubtedly
the wording of Wellington’s orders to Graham, which left so much to
the judgement of the commander of the great turning column. He had
been placed, almost from the start of his march, in the presence of a
secondary problem. Reille, as we have seen, had been given on the 20th
the charge of the upper Zadorra and the great road to France. Hoping
that he had only Longa’s Spaniards in front of him, and judging that
it would be well to keep them as far from the road and the river as
possible, the commander of the Army of Portugal had placed Sarrut’s
division and a brigade of Mermet’s light horse in an advanced position
a mile and more in front of the river, on a ridge flanking the main
Bilbao road, above the village of Aranguiz. Lamartinière’s division
and Boyer’s and Digeon’s dragoons had been left on the nearer bank.
When therefore Graham, marching down from Olano, neared Aranguiz,
he found a considerable French force blocking the way. Remembering
his orders to look to the right, to adapt his movements to those of
the troops in that direction, and not to be drawn into unnecessary
fighting, he halted for some time, to see how matters were going on the
critical wing, and meanwhile deployed alongside of Longa’s men in his
front, Pack’s Portuguese brigade and Anson’s light dragoons, with the
5th Division in support, before Sarrut’s position. He also detached
Bradford’s Portuguese to his right, with the idea of getting in touch
with the troops in that direction. Reille, who was present in person
with his advanced guard, saw with dismay the depth of the column
descending upon him, and recognized that he must fall back and hold the
line of the Zadorra, the only possible front on which he could oppose
such an enemy. About midday or a little later Graham ‘thought himself
justified in advancing, in order to draw the enemy’s attention to his
right, and so assist the progress of the army from the side of Miranda
(i. e. Hill’s column), where the enemy seemed to be making an obstinate
resistance in the successive strong positions which the country
afforded[563].’ The very moment that Graham sent forth Longa and Pack
to advance, the French retired by order, not without some skirmishing,
in which the 4th Caçadores stormed the hill just above Aranguiz. But
neither side had any appreciable losses.

Graham could now advance to within a mile of the Zadorra, and was
in command of the plain-ground as far as the villages of Abechuco,
and Gamarra Mayor and Menor. All three are on the northern or right
bank of the river, and Reille had determined to hold them as _têtes
de pont_ covering the bridges. They had been hastily barricaded, and
the artillery of the Army of Portugal had been placed on the opposite
bank in a line of batteries, ready to sweep the open ground over which
an assault on the villages must be launched. Graham had therefore to
deploy for a formal attack on the new position. He sent Longa up-stream
and over the hills, to attack Gamarra Menor and Durana, placed Oswald
and the 5th Division, with a section of Lawson’s battery, over against
Gamarra Mayor, and drew out the 1st Division and the two Portuguese
brigades opposite Abechuco, which would have to be taken before the
bridge of Arriaga could be attacked. Keeping in mind Wellington’s main
purpose, indicated in his orders, of cutting the great road to France,
he told Longa and Oswald on the flank that they might push hard,
while he seems to have acted in a much more leisurely way in front of
Abechuco, where no attack was launched till actual orders had been
received from head-quarters bidding him press harder. But meanwhile
Longa took Gamarra Menor from the French battalion of the 3rd Line,
and then, pushing on, came into collision at Durana bridge with his
renegade compatriots the Franco-Spanish division of Casapalacios.
As the great road to Bayonne actually passes through Durana, and was
now under fire from Longa’s skirmishers, it may be said to have been
blocked for all practical purposes at this early stage of the battle.
It was not till the afternoon, however, that Longa succeeded in
storming the bridge and occupying the village, thus formally breaking
the enemy’s main line of communication with France--to save which King
Joseph had risked his all. Apparently he was hampered by having no
artillery, while the Franco-Spaniards had some four or five guns with
them, bearing on the bridge.

Meanwhile Robinson’s brigade of the 5th Division had stormed Gamarra
Mayor, defended by the French 118th and 119th--Gauthier’s brigade of
Lamartinière’s division. This was a brilliant and costly affair--it
being no light matter to attack in column of battalions the barricaded
streets of a compact village. The British, however, burst in--Colonel
Brooke with the 1/4th being the first to force an entrance: the French
abandoned three guns which had been placed in the barricades, and fell
back in disorder across the bridge. General Robinson endeavoured to
improve the success by instant pursuit, but the French had guns bearing
on the bridge, which swept away the first platoons that tried to cross
it. Very few men reached the other side, and they were shot down before
they could establish a lodgement on the farther bank. It was necessary
to halt, re-form, and bring up more artillery before the attack could
be repeated.

It was now past two o’clock, and the noise of Graham’s attack was
sufficiently audible all down the British line, and was carrying dismay
to French head-quarters. But what of the other column, that of the 3rd
and 7th Divisions, which was to appear on the middle Zadorra opposite
Gazan’s almost unguarded flank, in the direction of the bridge of
Mendoza? It was overdue, now that both the large flanking corps were
seriously engaged, and the attention of the enemy attracted toward
them. But before the missing column came into action, there had been an
unexpected modification of the position in the right centre. At 11.30
Wellington appeared before the Light Division, and told Alten to move
it more to the left, so as to be over and above the bridge of Villodas,
which it would have to attack at the moment of general advance,
leaving the two bridges by Nanclares to the 4th Division and the
cavalry. So rough and wooded was the ground that the division, moving
in a hollow way, was established less than 300 yards from the brink of
the Zadorra and the French line, without attracting the notice of the
enemy. An officer of the 43rd writes: ‘I felt anxious to obtain a view,
and walking leisurely between the trees found myself at the edge of
the wood, in clear sight of the enemy’s cannon, planted with lighted
matches and ready to apply them[564]. Had our attack begun here, the
French could never have stood to their guns, so near were they to the
thicket--our Riflemen would have annihilated them.’ The British bank of
the Zadorra here completely commanded the bridge and the French bank,
which accounts for the fact that the enemy’s artillery did not detect
the approach of such a large body of troops as the Light Division. But
after a time a bickering fire across the river between skirmishers
on both sides broke out at several points, and some voltigeurs even
pressed across Villodas bridge, and had to be cast back again by the
skirmishers of the 2/95th.

There was to be, however, no attempt to pass this bridge as yet by the
British. While Wellington was still with the Light Division, a peasant
came up to him with the astounding intelligence that the bridge of
Tres Puentes, the one at the extreme point of the ‘hairpin-bend’ of
the Zadorra, was not only unoccupied but unwatched by the enemy: he
offered to guide any troops sent to it. The Commander-in-Chief made
up his mind at once to seize this crossing, which would outflank the
French position at Villodas, and told the peasant to lead Kempt’s
brigade of the Light Division to the unwatched point, about a mile and
a half to the left. ‘The brigade moved off by threes at a rapid pace,
along a very uneven and circuitous path, concealed from the observation
of the French by high rocks, and reached the narrow bridge, which
crossed the river to the hamlet of Yruna (part of the scattered village
of Tres Puentes). The 1st Rifles led the way, and the whole brigade
following passed at a run, with firelocks and rifles ready cocked, and
ascended a steep road of fifty yards, at the top of which was an old
chapel. We had no sooner cleared it than we observed a heavy column
of the French on the principal hill, and commanding a bird’s eye view
of us. However, fortunately, a convex bank formed a sort of _tête de
pont_, behind which the regiments formed at full speed, without any
word of command. Two round shots now came among us: the second severed
the head from the body of our bold guide, the Spanish peasant. The
brigade was so well covered that the enemy soon ceased firing. Our post
was extraordinary--we were in the elbow of the French position, and
isolated from the rest of the army, within 100 yards of the enemy[565]
and absolutely occupying part of his position, without any attempt
having been made to dislodge us.... Sir James Kempt expressed much
wonder at our critical position, without being molested, and sent his
aide-de-camp at speed across the river for the 15th Hussars, who came
up singly and at a gallop along the steep path, and dismounted in rear
of our centre. Some French dragoons, coolly and at a slow pace, came
up to within 50 yards of us, to examine, if possible, our strength,
but a few shots from the Rifles caused them to decamp. We could see
three bridges within a quarter of a mile of each other, in the elbow
of the enemy’s position. We had crossed the centre one (Tres Puentes),
while the other two, right and left (Villodas and Mendoza), were still
covered by French artillery[566].’

Expecting to be instantly attacked, and to have to fight hard for the
chapel-knoll on which they had aligned themselves, Kempt’s brigade
spent ‘half an hour of awkward suspense.’ The immunity with which they
had been allowed to hold their position was suddenly explained by a
movement which they had not been able to observe. The missing column of
Wellington’s army had at last come up, and was plunging with headlong
speed into the rear of the troops which were facing Kempt, so that the
French had no attention to spare for the side-issue in the hairpin-bend
of the Zadorra. Instead of being attacked the brigade was about to
become at once an attacking force.

A word is necessary as to the leading of this column. It had been
placed by Wellington under Lord Dalhousie, now commanding the 7th
Division. This was an extraordinary choice, as this officer had been
only a few months in the Peninsula, and had no experience of the
higher responsibilities--though he had commanded a brigade in the
Walcheren expedition[567]. But being as Lieutenant-General slightly
senior to Picton (though they had been gazetted major-generals on
the same day in 1808), he was entitled to take the command over the
head of the war-worn and experienced leader of the 3rd Division. The
latter had been directing one of the great marching columns during the
early stages of the advance, and was not unnaturally sulky at being
displaced. Common report in the army held that he was in disfavour at
Head-Quarters, for intemperate letters complaining of the starving of
his division during the recent march beyond the Ebro[568]. Be this as
it may, Picton was during the forenoon hours of June 21st in one of his
not infrequent rages. For though his column had started early, and the
3rd Division had reached Las Guetas, the villages on the south side of
the Monte Arrato, which were to be its starting-point for the attack on
the line of the Zadorra, Lord Dalhousie refused to advance farther than
the edge of the hills, using apparently his discretion in interpreting
the orders given him ‘to regulate his action from what was going on to
his right and only to move when it should be ‘evidently necessary’ to
favour the progress of the columns in that direction. He was obviously
worried by the fact that the two rear brigades of his own division,
Barnes’s and Le Cor’s, had been hindered by an artillery breakdown in
the steep road behind, and were not yet up, though Cairnes’s battery,
which had delayed them, ultimately overtook the leading brigade[569].
Hence he used his discretion to wait for formal orders from
Head-Quarters, and to do nothing. Picton, who could note the advance of
Hill’s column, and could see that the French were utterly unprepared
for an attack on the middle Zadorra, chafed bitterly at the delay.

We have an interesting picture of him on that morning from
eye-witnesses. He was a strange figure--suffering from inflammation
of the eyes, he had put on not his cocked hat but a broad-brimmed
and tall civilian top-hat--the same that may be seen to-day in the
United Service Museum. ‘During the struggle on the right the centre
was inactive. General Picton was impatient, he inquired of every
aide-de-camp whether they had any orders for him. As the day wore
on, and the fight waxed louder on the right, he became furious, and
observed to the communicator of these particulars, ‘D--n it! Lord
Wellington must have forgotten us.’ It was near noon, and the men were
getting discontented. Picton’s blood was boiling, his stick was beating
with rapid strokes upon the mane of his cob. He rode backward and
forward looking in every direction for the arrival of an aide-de-camp,
until at last one galloped up from Lord Wellington. He was looking for
Lord Dalhousie--the 7th Division had not yet arrived, having to move
over difficult ground. The aide-de-camp checked his horse and asked the
general whether he had seen Lord Dalhousie. Picton was disappointed;
he had expected that he might at least move now, and in a voice which
did not gain softness from his feelings, answered in a sharp tone, ‘No,
Sir: I have _not_ seen his Lordship, but have you any orders for _me_.’
‘None,’ replied the aide-de-camp. ‘Then, pray Sir, what are the orders
that you _do_ bring?’ ‘Why,’ answered the officer, ‘that as soon as
Lord D. shall commence an attack on that bridge,’ pointing to the one
on the left (Mendoza), ‘the 4th and Light are to support him.’ Picton
could not understand the idea of any other division fighting in his
front, and drawing himself up to his full height said to the astonished
aide-de-camp, ‘You may tell Lord Wellington from me, Sir, that the 3rd
Division, under my command, shall in less than ten minutes attack that
bridge and carry it, and the 4th and Light may support if they choose.’
Having thus expressed his intention, he turned from the aide-de-camp
and put himself at the head of his men, who were quickly in motion
toward the bridge, encouraging them with the bland appellation of ‘Come
on, ye rascals! Come on, ye fighting villains[570].’

Ten minutes as the time required to plunge down from the hillside
to a bridge two miles away seems a short estimate. But there is no
doubt that the advance of the 3rd Division was fast and furious--an
eye-witness describes it as shooting like a meteor across the front of
the still-halted column-head of the 7th Division. The military purist
may opine that Picton should have waited till he got formal orders
via Lord Dalhousie to advance. But the moments were precious--Kempt
was across the Zadorra close by, in an obviously dangerous state of
isolation: the French in a few minutes might be sending infantry to
block the bridge of Mendoza, which they had so strangely neglected.
The 7th Division was short of two brigades, and not ready to attack.
Wellington’s orders were known, and the situation on the right was
now such as to justify the permissible advance which they authorized.
Neither Wellington nor Dalhousie in their dispatches give any hint that
Picton’s action was disapproved--complete success justified it.

Picton had directed Brisbane’s brigade of the 3rd Division straight
upon the bridge of Mendoza, Colville’s upon a ford 300 yards farther
up-stream. Both crossed safely and almost unopposed. The only
French troops watching the stream here were Avy’s weak brigade of
cavalry--under 500 sabres--and their three horse-artillery guns
commanding the bridge. But the latter hardly got into action, for on
Picton’s rapid approach becoming visible, General Kempt threw out
some companies of the 1/95th under Andrew Barnard, from his point of
vantage on the knoll of Yruna, who opened such a biting fire upon the
half battery that the officer in command limbered up and galloped off.
Avy’s chasseurs hovered about in an undecided way--but were not capable
either of defending a bridge or of attacking a brigade in position
upon a steep hill. Wherefore Picton got across with small loss, and
formed his two British brigades on the south side of the river. Power’s
Portuguese rapidly followed Brisbane, as did a little later Grant’s
brigade of the 7th Division--Lord Dalhousie’s other two brigades (as we
have already noted) were not yet on the ground. On seeing Picton safely
established on the left bank Kempt advanced from his knoll, and formed
on the right-rear of the 3rd Division. The trifling French detachment
at the bridge of Villodas--only a voltigeur company--wisely absconded
at full speed on seeing Kempt on the move. The passage there was left
completely free for Vandeleur’s brigade of the Light Division, who had
long been waiting on the opposite steep bank.

The British were across the Zadorra in force, and the critical stage of
the action was about to commence: the hour being between 2 and 3 in the
afternoon.

SECTION XXXVI: CHAPTER VIII

BATTLE OF VITTORIA. ROUT OF THE FRENCH

When Picton and the 3rd Division, followed by the one available brigade
of the 7th Division, came pouring across the Zadorra on the side of
Mendoza, while Kempt debouched from the knoll of Yruna, and Vandeleur
crossed the bridge of Villodas, the position of Leval’s division became
desperate. It was about to be attacked in flank by four brigades and
in front by two more, and being one of the weaker divisions of the
Army of the South, only 4,500 bayonets, was outnumbered threefold. Its
original reserve (half Daricau’s division) had gone off to the Puebla
heights hours before: the general army-reserve (Villatte’s division)
had been sent away in the same direction by Jourdan’s last orders. The
nearest disposable and intact French troops were Darmagnac’s division
of the Army of the Centre--two miles to the rear, in position by Zuazo:
the other divisions of that army had (as we have seen) gone off on a
wholly unnecessary excursion to watch the Trevino road. The left wing
and centre of the Army of the South was absorbed in the task of keeping
back Hill, and had just begun the counter-attack upon him which Jourdan
had ordered an hour before.

The sudden change in the situation, caused by the very rapid advance of
Picton and the brigades that helped him, was all too evident to King
Joseph and his chief of the staff, as they stood on the hill of Ariñez.
The whole force of the 3rd division struck diagonally across the short
space between the river and Leval’s position--Brisbane’s brigade and
Power’s Portuguese making for the French flank, while Colville, higher
up the stream, made for the rear of the hill, in the direction of the
village of Margarita. Kempt followed Brisbane in second line, Grant’s
brigade of the 7th Division, when it crossed at Mendoza, came on behind
Colville. So did Vandeleur, from Villodas, after he had pulled down
the obstructions and got his men over the narrow bridge. Nor was this
all--the 4th Division, so long halted on the scrubby hillside opposite
the left-hand of the two Nanclares bridges, suddenly started to descend
the slope at the double-quick, Stubbs’s Portuguese brigade leading.

Jourdan had to make a ‘lightning change’ in all his dispositions.
Leval, obviously doomed if he did not retire quickly, was told to
evacuate his hill and fall back past Ariñez, into which he threw a
regiment to cover his retreat, on to the heights behind it. The two
brigades of Daricau and Conroux, which had stood on the other side of
the high road from Leval, were to make a parallel movement back to
the same line of heights. The other brigades of Daricau and Conroux,
with Maransin--now deeply engaged some with O’Callaghan and others
with the 50th and 92nd--were to abandon the attack which they had just
begun, and which had somewhat pushed back the British advance. They
too must go back to the slopes behind Ariñez. It would take longer to
recall Villatte, who was now far up on the crest of the mountain to the
left, engaged with Morillo’s Spaniards and the 71st. But this attack
also must be broken off. Lastly, to fill the gap between Leval’s new
position and the Zadorra, the Army of the Centre must come forward and
hold Margarita, or if that was impossible, the hill and village of La
Hermandad behind it. But only Darmagnac’s division was immediately
available for this task, Cassagne’s having to be brought back from
the eccentric counter-march toward the Trevino road, to which it had
been committed an hour before. In this way a new line of battle would
be formed, reaching from the Zadorra near Margarita across the high
road at Gomecha, to the heights above Zumelzu on the left. It was
at best a hazardous business to order a fighting-line more than two
miles long, and bitterly engaged with the enemy at several points, to
withdraw to an unsurveyed position a mile in its rear, where there
was practically no reserve waiting to receive it. For on the slopes
above Ariñez there was at that moment nothing but Pierre Soult’s light
horse, and Treillard’s dragoons, with two batteries of artillery[571].
The new front had to be constructed from troops falling back in haste
and closely pursued by the enemy, combining with other troops coming
in from various directions, viz. the two divisions of the Army of the
Centre. And when the line should be re-formed, what was to prevent its
left from being turned once more by the Allied troops on the Puebla
heights, or its right by columns crossing the middle Zadorra behind
it[572]. For there would still be a gap of two miles between Margarita
village and the nearest troops of the Army of Portugal, who were now
engaged with Graham at Abechuco and Arriaga.

To speak plainly, the second French line was never properly formed,
especially on its left; but a better front was made, and a stronger
stand, than might perhaps have been expected, though the confusion
caused by hasty and imperfect alignment was destined in the end to be
fatal.

On the extreme left Villatte had been caught by the order of recall at
the moment when he was delivering his attack on Morillo and the British
71st. He had reached the crest as ordered, had formed up across it, and
then had marched on a narrow front against the Allies. Both British
and Spanish were in some disorder when he came in upon them--they had
now been fighting for four hours, and in successive engagements had
driven first Maransin’s and then St. Pol’s brigades for two miles over
very steep and rocky ground. At the moment when Villatte came upon the
scene, the Allied advance had just reached a broad dip in the crest,
which it would have to cross if its progress were to be continued. The
Spaniards were on the right and the 71st and light companies on the
left, or northern, part of the ridge. It would have been a suitable
moment to halt, and re-form the line before continuing to press forward
over dangerous ground. But the officer who had succeeded Cadogan
in command[573] was set on ‘keeping the French upon the run,’ and
recklessly ordered the tired troops to plunge down the steep side of
the declivity and carry the opposite slope. He was apparently ignorant
that fresh French troops were just coming to the front--several
eye-witnesses say that a column in light-coloured overcoats with white
shako-covers, which had been noticed on the right, was taken for a
Spanish detachment[574]. At any rate, the 71st crossed the dip--four
companies in its centre, the remainder at its upper end--and was
suddenly met not only by a charging column in front, but by an attack
in flank and almost in rear. The first volley brought down 200 men--the
shattered battalion recoiled, and remounted its own slope in utter
disorder, leaving some forty prisoners in the hands of the enemy. These
were the only British soldiers who fell into the hands of the French
that day[575]. Fortunately the 50th, coming up from the rear, was just
in time to form up along the edge of the dip and cover the retreat, and
was joined soon after by the 92nd, who had been facing another separate
French unit lower down the slopes and to the left flank. Seeing their
opponents move off for no visible reason (they had received no doubt
the general order to retire), the Highland regiment had pushed up on to
the crest and joined the 50th and the Spaniards.

Villatte, still ignorant that the whole French army was falling back,
tried to improve his success over the 71st into a general repulse of
the Allied force upon the crest, and ordered his leading regiment
to cross the dip and attack the troops upon the opposite sky-line.
They suffered the same fate as the 71st and from the same cause: the
climb was steep among stones and furze, they were received with two
devastating volleys when they neared the top of the declivity, and
then charged by the 50th and 92nd--the column broke, rolled down hill,
and went to the rear. A second but less vigorous attack was made by
another French regiment, and repulsed with the same ease--the wrecks of
the 71st joining in the defence this time. Villatte then brought up a
third regiment, but this was only a feint--the attack never developed,
and while it was hanging fire the whole division swung round to the
rear and went off--Jourdan’s general order to retreat had at last been
received, and Villatte was falling back to the new line[576]. Cameron
of the 92nd, now in command on the heights, followed him up, as did the
Spaniards. But there was to be no more serious fighting upon the Puebla
mountain: the French gave way whenever they were pressed[577].

Long before Villatte’s fight on the high ground had come to an
end, the engagement at the other end of the French line had taken
an unfavourable turn. The battle in this direction fell into three
separate sections. Close to the Zadorra, Colville, with the left-hand
brigade of the 3rd Division, was pushing up towards Margarita, while
Darmagnac, from the heights of Zuazo, was making for it from the other
side. It had taken some time to file Colville’s battalions across
the ford, and deploy them for the advance, and the French brigade of
Darmagnac’s division got into the village first, and made a strong
defence there, while the German brigade occupied La Hermandad in
its rear. Colville was held in check, suffered heavily, and could
not get forward. But after half an hour’s deadly fighting the enemy
gave way, not only because of the frontal pressure, but because the
troops on his left (Leval’s division of the Army of the South) had
been defeated by Picton and were retiring, thereby exposing the flank
of Darmagnac’s line. D’Erlon drew back Chassé’s much thinned brigade
half a mile, to the better defensive ground formed by the village of
La Hermandad and the height above it, where his German brigade was
already in position: this was an integral part of the new line on which
Jourdan had determined to fight, while Margarita was on low ground, and
too far to the front. Colville’s brigade, like its adversaries much
maltreated[578], was replaced by Grant’s brigade of the 7th Division
in front line[579], while Vandeleur’s of the Light Division followed
in support. They had now in front of them not only Darmagnac’s but
Cassagne’s division, which had come back from its fruitless excursion
to the Trevino road, and had joined the other section of the Army of
the Centre[580], taking up ground in second line.

Meanwhile the really decisive blow of the whole battle was being
delivered by Picton, a thousand yards farther to the south, in and
above Ariñez. The striking force here consisted of Power’s Portuguese
brigade on the left, and of Brisbane’s British brigade on the right,
opposite the village. Kempt’s half of the Light Division had followed
Picton faithfully in his diagonal movement across the slopes, and was
close behind Brisbane. Farther to the right the new front of attack of
Wellington’s army was only beginning to form itself--the 4th Division
had deployed after crossing the upper bridge of Nanclares, and was
now coming on in an échelon of brigades--Stubbs’s Portuguese in the
front échelon, then W. Anson, last Skerrett. They extended from the
high road southwards, and were getting into touch with Hill’s column,
which after the French evacuated the height behind Subijana had also
deployed for the advance--the 2nd division having now thrown forward
Byng’s brigade on its left, with O’Callaghan’s next it, and Ashworth’s
Portuguese in second line. Silveira’s division remained in reserve. The
cavalry of the centre column had crossed after the infantry--R. Hill,
Ponsonby, Victor Alten, and Grant by the upper bridge of Nanclares,
D’Urban’s Portuguese by the lower. They deployed on each side of the
high road east of the river, behind the 4th Division, ground suitable
for horsemen being nowhere else visible. On the heights of Puebla there
still remained Cadogan’s brigade (now under Cameron of the 92nd) and
Morillo’s Spaniards. This detached force, which was hard in pursuit of
Villatte’s retreating column, was decidedly ahead of the rest of the
army, and well placed for striking at the new French flank, but it was
tired and had fought hard already for many hours.

When the 4th Division had passed the upper bridge of Nanclares, and
before the cavalry began to cross the Zadorra, Colonel Dickson had by
Wellington’s orders commenced to bring forward the reserve artillery.
Very few British batteries had yet come into action, the broken nature
of the ground preventing them from keeping close to their divisions.
Hence it came to pass that there was by this time an accumulation of
guns in the centre: during the rest of the battle it was employed in
mass, many divisional batteries joining the artillery reserve, and a
formidable line of guns being presently developed along the heights
which had been the original position of Gazan’s centre and right. Some
of them were to the north of the high road, on Leval’s hill: some to
the south, where Daricau’s front brigade had stood when the action
commenced. As soon as they had come up, they began to pound the French
infantry on the opposite hill. Here General Tirlet had a still more
powerful artillery force in action--all the guns of the front line had
got back in safety save one belonging to the horse artillery battery
which had been placed opposite the bridge of Nanclares[581], and three
batteries from the reserve were already in position. The cannonade on
both sides was fierce--but it was the infantry which had to settle
the matter, and the disadvantage to the French was that their troops,
much hustled and disarranged while retreating into the new position,
never properly settled down into it--especially Conroux’s and Daricau’s
divisions, which had been divided into separate brigades by the way
in which Gazan had dealt with them at the commencement of the action,
never got into regular divisional order again, and fought piecemeal by
regiments.

The decisive point was on the ground at and above Ariñez, which was
held by Leval’s division, with one regiment of Daricau’s (103rd
Line) on their left. The village, low down on the slope, was held by
Mocquery’s brigade--Morgan’s was in support with the guns, higher up
and more to the right. Picton attacked with Power’s Portuguese on his
left, Brisbane’s brigade on his right, and Kempt’s brigade of the Light
Division in support, except that some companies of the 1/95th had been
thrown out in front of Brisbane’s line, and led the whole attack. The
Riflemen rushed at the village, penetrated into it, and were evicted
after a fierce tussle, by a French battalion charging in mass down the
street. But immediately behind came the 88th and 74th. The former,
attacking to their right of the village[582], completely smashed the
French regiment which came down to meet them in a close-fire combat,
and drove them in disorder up the hill, while the latter carried Ariñez
itself and swept onward through it. The 45th, farther to the right,
attacked and drove off the regiment of Daricau’s division which was
flanking Leval. Power’s Portuguese would seem to have got engaged with
Morgan’s brigade, on the left of the village; it gave way before them,
when the 74th had stormed Ariñez and the Connaught Rangers had broken
the neighbouring column. Leval’s routed troops appear to have swept
to the rear rather in a southerly direction, and to their left of the
high road, so as to leave the beginnings of a gap between them and
Cassagne’s division of the Army of the Centre, which was coming up to
occupy the ridge north of Gomecha, in the new position.

The complete breach in the French centre made by Picton’s capture of
Ariñez, and the driving of Leval out of his position above it, had the
immediate effect of compelling Darmagnac’s division to conform to the
retreat, by falling back from Margarita on to La Hermandad and the
hills behind it on the one wing, while the confused line of Daricau’s,
Conroux’s, and Maransin’s troops, on the other hand, had to retire to
the level of Gomecha, though the 4th and 2nd Divisions were not yet far
enough forward to be able to press them. Nearly all the French guns
appear to have been carried back to the new position, which may roughly
be described as extending from Hermandad on the Zadorra by Zuazo and
Gomecha to the hills in front of Esquivel. It was quite as good as the
Margarita-Ariñez-Zumelzu line which had just been forced by Picton’s
central attack.

It took some little time for Wellington to organize his next advance;
the troops which had forced the Ariñez position had to be re-formed,
and it was necessary to allow the 4th and 2nd Divisions to come up
level with them, and to bring forward Dickson’s mass of artillery to
a more advanced line, to batter the enemy before the next infantry
assault was let loose. The only point where close fighting seems to
have continued during this interval was on the extreme left, where
Lord Dalhousie, after the French had left Margarita, was pressing
forward Grant’s brigade of his own division, supported by Vandeleur’s
brigade of the Light Division, against D’Erlon’s new position, where
Neuenstein’s brigade of five German battalions lay in and about La
Hermandad, with Chassé’s dilapidated regiments in reserve behind.
There was a very bitter struggle at this point, rendered costly to the
advancing British by the superiority of the French artillery--D’Erlon
had now at least two batteries in action--Dalhousie only his own six
divisional guns, those of Cairnes. Grant’s brigade, after advancing
some 300 yards under a very heavy fire, came to a stand, and took cover
in a deep broad ditch only 200 yards from the French front. According
to an eye-witness Dalhousie hesitated for a moment as to whether a
further advance was possible[583], and had the matter settled for
him by the sudden charge of Vandeleur’s brigade, which came up at
full speed, carried the 7th Division battalions in the ditch along
with it in its impetus, and stormed La Hermandad in ten minutes. The
German defenders--Baden, Nassau, and Frankfurt battalions--reeled back
in disorder, and retreated to the crest of the heights behind, where
Cassagne’s division, hitherto not engaged, picked them up. D’Erlon
succeeded in forming some sort of a new line from Crispijana near
the Zadorra to Zuazo, where his left should have joined the right
of the Army of the South. It is curious to note that while Grant’s
brigade lost heavily in this combat (330 casualties), Vandeleur’s,
which carried on the attack to success, suffered hardly at all (38
casualties). Their German opponents were very badly punished, having
lost 620 men, including 250 prisoners, in defending La Hermandad
against the two British brigades[584].

While Wellington, after the first breaking of the French line, was
preparing under cover of the cannonade of Dickson’s guns for the
assault on their new position in front of Zuazo and Gomecha, General
Graham was developing his attack on the Army of Portugal and the French
line of retreat, but not with the energy that might have been expected
from the victor of Barrosa.

He had, as it will be remembered, sent Oswald and the 5th Division
against the bridge of Gamarra Mayor, and Longa’s Spaniards against that
of Durana, while he himself remained with the 1st Division, Pack’s and
Bradford’s Portuguese, and the bulk of his cavalry on the high road,
facing the bridge of Arriaga and its outlying bulwark the village
of Abechuco. We should have expected that the main attack would be
delivered at this point, but nothing of the sort took place. When the
noise of Oswald’s heavy fighting at Gamarra Mayor had begun to grow
loud, Graham directed the two Light Battalions of the German Legion
(under Colonel Halkett) to clear the French out of Abechuco. This they
did with trifling loss--1 officer and 51 men, capturing several guns
in the village[585]. But Graham made no subsequent attempt to improve
his success by forcing the bridge behind--as is sufficiently witnessed
by the fact that of his remaining battalions the Guards’ Brigade had
no casualties that day, and the three Line battalions of the K.G.L.
one killed and one wounded. Before drawing up in front of Arriaga he
had sent Bradford’s Portuguese, for a short time, to demonstrate to
his right, toward the bridge of Yurre; but he called them back after a
space, and placed them to the right of Abechuco, continuing the general
line of the First Division. Bradford’s battalions lost precisely 4
men killed and 9 wounded. It is clear, therefore, that Graham never
attacked the Arriaga position at all. Why he massed 4,000 British and
4,000 Portuguese infantry on this front--not to speak of two brigades
of cavalry--and then never used them, it is hard to make out.

We know, it is true, that not only Graham but Wellington himself
over-estimated the strength of Reille’s force. They did not know that
Maucune had gone away in the dark, in charge of the great convoy, and
thought that Foy’s and Taupin’s divisions were the only troops of the
Army of Portugal which had not rejoined. Arguing that he had four
infantry divisions in front of him (though they were really only two),
Graham no doubt did well to be cautious--but he was much more than
that. It was at least his duty to detain and engage as many of the
enemy’s troops as was possible--and he certainly did not do so.

There was opposite him at Arriaga one single infantry
division--Sarrut’s, and he did so little to employ it that Reille
dared--after observing the British movements for some time--to take
away Sarrut’s second brigade (that of Fririon) for use as a central
reserve, which he posted at Betonio a mile back from the river, leaving
Menne’s brigade alone--not much over 2,000 bayonets--opposed to the
whole 1st Division, Bradford, and Pack. It is true that Menne had heavy
cavalry supports--Digeon’s dragoons and Curto’s brigade of Mermet’s
light horse--on one flank, and Boyer’s dragoons not far away on the
other. But cavalry in 1813 were not troops which could defend a bridge
or the line of a river. There was also a good deal of French artillery
present--a more important fact under the existing circumstances. For
Reille had still twenty guns ranged along the river[586], beside those
which were detached on the flank with Casapalacios’ Spaniards. But
Graham had almost as many--the three batteries of Lawson, Ramsay, and
Dubourdieu--and of these the two last, ranged opposite Arriaga bridge,
and pounding the village behind it, quite held their own against the
opposing guns.

It can only be supposed that Graham, in refraining from any serious
attack along the high road, was obeying in too literal a fashion
Wellington’s orders not to commit himself to close fighting in the
low ground, and to regulate his movements by those of the columns on
his right (Picton’s and Dalhousie’s divisions). When these had worked
their way up the Zadorra to his neighbourhood he _did_ advance. But it
was then so late that the enemy in front of him was able to get away,
without any very disastrous losses.

While Graham kept quiet on the high road, Oswald was engaged in a very
different style at Gamarra Mayor, where after his first capture of the
village, he made at least three desperate attempts to force the bridge,
held most obstinately by Lamartinière’s division. The passage was taken
and retaken, but no lodgement on the southern bank could be made. After
Robinson’s brigade had exhausted itself, Oswald put in the 3/1st from
Hay’s brigade and some of his Portuguese[587]. But no success was
obtained, though both sides suffered heavily. The casualty rolls of the
5th Division show a loss of 38 officers and 515 men--those of their
French opponents 38 officers and 558 men. Practically all on both sides
fell in the murderous fighting up and down Gamarra bridge. The forces
were so equally balanced--each about 6,000 bayonets and one divisional
battery--that on such a narrow front decision was impossible when both
fought their best. The only way of attacking the bridge was by pushing
straight down the narrow street of the village from the British side,
and across an open field from the French. Both parties had guns trained
upon its ends, which blew to pieces any column-head that debouched.
There were no fords anywhere near, and the banks for some distance
up-stream and down-stream were lined by the skirmishers of both sides,
taking what cover they could find, and doing their best to keep down
each other’s fire. ‘It plainly appeared this day that the enemy had
formed a sort of determination not to be beat: we never saw them stand
so vigorous before,’ writes a diarist from the ranks, in Robinson’s
brigade[588].

There was an absolute deadlock at Gamarra Mayor till nearly
five o’clock in the afternoon. At Durana things went otherwise:
Longa, though hampered by his lack of guns, ended by pushing the
Franco-Spanish brigade across the bridge, and then for some way down
the south side of the Zadorra. The retreating party then made a stand
behind a ravine and brook some half-mile farther on, where they were
flanked by a brigade of Mermet’s light cavalry, as well as by their own
five squadrons, and supported by the French battalion of the 3rd Line
which had been in their quarter of the field from the first. Longa was
unable to push them farther--probably for fear of lending his flank to
cavalry charges, and gained no further ground till the general retreat
of the French army began. But he had effectively cut King Joseph’s
communication with France by seizing Durana--and this was the governing
factor of the whole fight, since the enemy had now only the Pampeluna
road by which he could retreat. If Joseph had owned some infantry
reserves, he could (no doubt) have driven Longa away; but he had not a
man to spare in any part of the field, and things were going so badly
with the Army of the South that he had no attention to spare for the
Army of Portugal.

It must have been about four o’clock before Wellington, having
rearranged his line and brought up his artillery, determined to renew
the general attack on the French right and centre. Joseph had brought
up to the new position (extending from Crispijana on the left by Zuazo
to the heights in front of Esquivel) the whole of the infantry of the
Armies of the South and Centre, which now formed one rather irregular
line. The only infantry reserve was the six weak battalions of the
Royal Guard--perhaps 2,500 bayonets[589], placed on the high road in
front of Vittoria--there was also a mass of cavalry in reserve, but
this was of as little use for the defence of a hill-position as was
Wellington’s for the assault on it. There were now in line Tilly’s
division of dragoons which had been brought back from its useless
excursion on the Logroño road, and Pierre Soult’s light horse, both
of Gazan’s army, with Treillard’s dragoons, Avy’s Chasseurs, and the
two cavalry regiments of the Royal Guard, all from the Army of the
Centre--in all some 4,500 sabres.

The artillery, however, was very strong, and--deployed in a long line
on both sides of the high road--was already sweeping all the slopes
in front. There were present 46 guns of the Army of the South (all
that it owned save one piece lost at Ariñez and three absent with
Digeon’s dragoons), twelve guns of the Army of the Centre, and 18
from the reserve of the Army of Portugal--76 in all[590]. Dickson
would appear to have brought up against them very nearly the same
number: 54 British, 18 Portuguese, and 3 Spanish guns, when the last
of the reserve batteries had got across the Zadorra and come forward
into line--a total of 75 pieces[591]. The cannonade was the fiercest
ever known in the Peninsula--each side was mainly trying to pound
the enemy’s infantry--a task more easy for the French than the Allied
gunners, since the assailant had to come up the open hillside, and the
assailed was partly screened by woods (especially in front of Gomecha)
and dips in the rough ground which he was holding.

The French line was now formed by Cassagne’s division on the extreme
right, with one regiment (the 16th Léger) in Crispijana, and the others
extending to meet Darmagnac’s much depleted battalions which were in
and about Zuazo. Leval ought to have been in touch with Darmagnac, but
obviously was not, the ground on each side of the high road being held
by guns only, with cavalry in support some way behind. For after losing
Ariñez Leval’s infantry had inclined much to their left. But on the
other flank Villatte had, as it seems, inclined somewhat to the right,
for having lost the heights of La Puebla, he could not prevent Cameron
and Morillo from pressing along their crest and getting behind his new
position: they were edging past his flank all through this period of
the action.

The long front of the British advance started with Colville’s
brigade--now once more in front line--opposite Crispijana, and was
continued southward by those of Grant, Power, Brisbane, Stubbs, Byng,
and O’Callaghan, while Vandeleur, Kempt, W. Anson, Skerrett, and
Ashworth were formed in support, with Silveira’s division and the
cavalry in third line. The missing brigades of the 7th Division were
not yet on the field, possibly not even across the Zadorra, for neither
of them lost a man that day. The advance of the line was a splendid
spectacle, recorded with notes of admiration by many who witnessed it
from the hill of Ariñez or the heights of La Puebla.

The French artillery fire was heavy, and in some sections of the line
very murderous--Power’s and Stubbs’s Portuguese brigades were special
sufferers. But the infantry defence was not resolute: on many parts of
the front it was obviously very weak. The enemy was already a beaten
army, he had been turned out of two positions, the news had got round
that the road to France had been cut, and that Reille’s small force
was in grave danger of losing the line of the Zadorra--in which case
the whole army would find itself attacked in the rear. It is clear
from the French narratives that the infantry did not support the guns
in front line as they should. The reports of the Army of the Centre
speak of being turned on their right by a column which kept near the
river and took Crispijana--obviously Colville’s brigade. As the 16th
Léger in that village only suffered a loss that day of one officer and
26 men, its resistance cannot have been very serious. But D’Erlon’s
divisions were also outflanked on their left--by clouds of skirmishers
drifting in by the wood and broken ground about Gomecha, who turned
on the line of artillery, and began shooting down the gunners from
flank and rear[592]. Obviously there was a gap along the high road,
by which these light troops must have penetrated, and as obviously it
was caused by Leval having sheered off to the south. For the artillery
report of Gazan’s army also speaks of being turned on its right
wing--‘enveloped by skirmishers who had got into Gomecha and were in
rear of the position, which was being also attacked frontally.’ Nor is
this all, ‘the mass on the mountain (Cameron and Morillo) descended on
the left flank and rear of the Army of the South before it had time to
form again: the artillery found itself without support.’ If so, where
were the four and a half divisions of infantry which should have been
protecting it?

The only possible deduction from all our narratives is that Gazan’s
army made no real stand on the Gomecha-Esquivel position, and retired
the moment that the attack drew near. And the person mainly responsible
for the retreat was the Army-Commander himself, whose very unconvincing
account of this phase of the action is that ‘the right flank of the
line was continually being outflanked: I received no further orders
about the taking up of the position of which the King had spoken;
the enemy was getting near the gates of Vittoria (!), and so I had
to continue my movement toward that town, after having taken up a
position by Zuazo, with the intention of covering with my right-hand
division and my guns the retreat of the rest of the army, which without
this help would have been hopelessly compromised. At this time I had
only lost four guns, abandoned on the extreme left of the line: the
artillery was intact, and the army had suffered no greater loss than it
had inflicted on the enemy.’

Reading this artful narrative, we note that (1) Gazan evacuated on his
own responsibility a position that the King had definitely ordered
him to take up--because he had ‘no further orders’; (2) the continued
‘turning of his right’ could only have resulted from the defeat of his
own troops on and about the high road--which was in his sector, not
in D’Erlon’s, Leval was across it when the last phase of the battle
began; (3) D’Erlon held Zuazo and complained that there was nothing on
his left, which was completely turned on the side where Leval _ought_
to have been but was not; (4) Gazan retreated without any serious loss
having compelled him to do so. This is obviously the fact. Villatte’s
whole division had less than 300 casualties, Leval’s under 800,
Daricau’s under 850: the only troops hard hit were Maransin’s brigade,
Rey’s brigade of Conroux’s division, and the 103rd Line in Daricau’s.
Moreover, the 4th and 2nd British Divisions, the troops immediately
opposed to Gazan’s main line, had insignificant losses in this part
of the action, Byng’s brigade under 150, Ashworth’s just 23, Anson’s
90, Skerrett’s 22; the only appreciable loss had been that of Stubbs’s
Portuguese--about 240. For the heavy casualty lists of O’Callaghan’s,
Cadogan’s, and Brisbane’s battalions had all been suffered in the
earlier phases of the fight[593].

The fact is that Gazan went off without orders, and left the King
and D’Erlon in the lurch. Jourdan is telling the exact truth when he
says that ‘General Gazan, instead of conducting his divisions to the
position indicated, swerved strongly to the right, marching in retreat,
so as to link up with Villatte; he continued to draw away, following
the foot-hills of the mountain [of Puebla], leaving the high road and
Vittoria far to his left, and a vast gap between himself and Count
D’Erlon’[594].

No doubt the breach made in the French centre when Picton stormed the
heights behind Ariñez had been irreparable from the first; and no doubt
also the flanking movement of Morillo and Cameron on the mountain must
have dislodged the Army of the South, if it had waited to come into
frontal action with Cole and Hill. But Gazan showed complete disregard
of all interests save his own, and went off in comparatively good
condition, without orders, leaving the King, D’Erlon, and Reille to get
out of the mess as best they might.

Some of the British narratives tend to show that many parts of Gazan’s
line had never properly settled down into the Gomecha-Esquivel
position, having reached it in such bad order that they would have
required more time than was granted them to re-form. An officer
present with the skirmishing line of the 4th Division writes in his
absolutely contemporary diary: ‘From the time when our guns began to
open, and to throw shells almost into the rear of the enemy’s height,
we saw him begin to fall back in haste from his position. We [4th
Division] marched on at a great pace in column. From that moment the
affair became a mere hunt. Our rapid advance almost cut off four
or five French battalions--they made some resistance at first, but
soon dissolved and ran pell-mell, like a swarm of bees, up the steep
hill, from which they began to fire down on us. We disregarded their
fire, and kept on advancing--in order to carry out our main object:
broken troops are easy game. When we found the enemy in this second
position there was heavy artillery fire. Since his left wing was
somewhat refused, we advanced in échelon from the right. When we got
within musketry range, we found he had gone off out of sight. After
that we drove him out of one position after another till at last we
were near the gates of Vittoria[595].’ Several other 4th Division
and 2nd Division narratives agree in stating that after the storming
of Ariñez the French never made anything like a solid stand on the
Gomecha-Esquivel heights. But (as has been said above) the best proof
of it is the British casualty list, which shows that the reserve line
was hardly under fire, and that the front line had very moderate
losses, except at one or two points.

D’Erlon made a more creditable resistance on the French right, but he
was obviously doomed if he should linger long after Gazan had gone
off. After losing Crispijana and Zuazo he made a last stand on the
slopes a mile in front of Vittoria, between Ali and Armentia, to which
the whole of his own artillery and that of the reserve, and perhaps
also some guns of the Army of the South, retired in time to take up a
final position[596]. For some short space they maintained a furious
fire on the 3rd Division troops which were following them up, so as to
allow their infantry to re-form. But it was but for a few minutes--the
column near the Zadorra (Grant, Colville, and Vandeleur) got round
the flank of the village of Ali, and the line of guns was obviously
in danger if it remained any longer in action. Just at this moment
D’Erlon received the King’s orders for a general retreat by the route
of Salvatierra. The high road to France had ceased to be available
since Longa got across it in the earlier afternoon. Any attempt to
force it open would obviously have taken much time, and might well
have failed, since the French were everywhere closely pressed by the
pursuing British. Jourdan judged the idea of reopening the passage to
be hopelessly impracticable, and ordered the retreat on Pampeluna as
the only possible policy, though (as his report owns) he was aware of
the badness of the Salvatierra road, and doubted his power to carry
off his guns, transport, and convoy of refugees by such a second-rate
track. But it was the only one open, and there was no choice.

The orders issued were that the Train and Park should get off at
once, that the Army of the South should retreat by the country paths
south of Vittoria, the Army of the Centre by those north of it. The
Army of Portugal was to hang on to its position till D’Erlon’s troops
had passed its rear, and then follow them as best it could. All the
cross-tracks indicated to the three armies ended by converging on the
Salvatierra road east of Vittoria, so that a hopeless confusion was
assured for the moment when three separate streams of retreating troops
should meet, and struggle for the use of one narrow and inadequate
thoroughfare. But as a matter of fact the chaos began long before that
time was reached, for the road was blocked or ever the three armies
got near it. The order for the retreat of the Park and convoys had
been issued far too late--Gazan says that he had advised Jourdan to
give it two hours before, when the first positions had been abandoned.
But the Marshal had apparently high confidence in his power to hold
the Hermandad-Gomecha-Esquivel line; at any rate, he had given no
such command. The noise of battle rolling ever closer to Vittoria
had warned the mixed multitude of civil and military hangers-on of
the army who were waiting by their carriages, carts, pack-mules,
and fourgons, in the open fields east of Vittoria, that the French
army was being driven in. Many of those who were not under military
discipline had begun to push ahead on the Salvatierra road, the moment
that the alarming news flew around that the great _chaussée_ leading
to France had been blocked. The Park, however--which all day long
had been sending up reserve ammunition to the front, and even one or
two improvised sections of guns--had naturally remained waiting for
orders. So had the immense accumulation of divisional and regimental
baggage, the convoy of treasure which had arrived from Bayonne on the
19th, and the heavy carriages of the King’s personal caravan, stuffed
with the plate and pictures of the palace at Madrid. And of the
miscellaneous French and Spanish hangers-on of the Court--ministers,
courtiers, clerks, commissaries, contractors, and the ladies who in
legitimate or illegitimate capacities followed them--few had dared to
go off unescorted on an early start. There was a vast accumulation
of distracted womenfolk--_nous étions un bordel ambulant_, said one
French eye-witness--some crammed together in travelling coaches with
children and servants, others riding the spare horses or mules of the
men to whom they belonged. When the orders for general retreat were
shouted around, among the fields where the multitude had been waiting,
three thousand vehicles of one sort and another tried simultaneously
to get into one or another of the five field-paths which go east from
Vittoria, all of which ultimately debouch into the single narrow
Salvatierra road. A dozen blocks and upsets had occurred before the
first ten minutes were over, and chaos supervened. Many carriages
and waggons never got off on a road at all. Into the rear of this
confusion there came charging, a few minutes later, batteries of
artillery going at high speed, and strings of caissons, which had been
horsed up and had started away early from the Park. Of course they
could not get through--but the thrust which they delivered, before
they came to an enforced stop, jammed the crowd of vehicles in front
of them into a still more hopeless block. Dozens of carriages broke
down--whereupon light-fingered fugitives began to help themselves
to all that was spilt. Of course camp followers began the game, but
Jourdan says that a large proportion of the French prisoners that day
were soldiers who _s’amusaient à piller_ in and about Vittoria; one
of the official reports from the Army of Portugal remarks that the
retreating cavalry joined in the ‘general pillage of the valuables
of the army,’ and other narrators mention that the treasure-fourgons
had already been broken into long before the English came upon the
scene[597]. Be this as it may, there was no long delay before the
terrors of the stampede culminated with the arrival of several
squadrons of Grant’s hussars, who had penetrated by the gap between
D’Erlon’s and Gazan’s lines of retreat, and had made a short cut
through the suburbs of the town. Of the chaos that followed the firing
of the first pistol shots which heralded the charge of the British
light cavalry, we must not speak till we have dealt with the last fight
of the Army of Portugal, on the extreme French right.

[Illustration: Battle of VITTORIA]

Till Grant’s and Colville’s brigades broke into Crispijana and Ali, the
line of Reille’s gallant defence along the Zadorra had remained intact.
Only artillery fire was going on opposite the bridge of Arriaga,
where the 1st Division and the two Portuguese brigades had halted
by Graham’s orders at some distance from the river, and had never
advanced. The two cavalry brigades were behind them. At Gamarra Mayor
the 5th Division had failed to force a passage, though it had inflicted
on Lamartinière’s troops as heavy a loss as it suffered. Longa was
held up half a mile beyond Durana, though he had successfully cut the
Bayonne _chaussée_. There was considerable cannonade and skirmishing
fire going on, upon a front of three miles, but no further progress
reported. The whole scene, however, was changed from the moment when
Grant’s and Colville’s brigades, turning the flank of D’Erlon’s line
close to the Zadorra, came sweeping over the hills by Ali into the
very rear of Reille’s line. The Army of Portugal had been directed to
hold the bridges and keep back Graham, until the rest of the French
host had got off. But the danger now came not from the front but from
the rear. In half an hour more the advancing British columns would be
level with the bridge of Arriaga and surrounding the infantry that held
it. Reille determined on instant retreat, the only course open to him:
so far as was possible it was covered by the very ample provision of
cavalry which he had in hand. Digeon, who has left a good account of
the crisis, made several desperate charges, to hold back the advancing
British while Menne’s brigade was escaping from Arriaga. One was
against infantry, which formed square and beat off the dragoons with no
difficulty[598]--the other against hussars, apparently two squadrons of
the 15th, which had turned northward from the suburbs of Vittoria and
tried to ride in and cut off the retreat of Menne’s battalions[599].
They were beaten back, and the infantry scrambled off, leaving behind
them Sarrut, their divisional general, mortally wounded as the retreat
began. Moreover, all the guns in and about Arriaga had to be abandoned
in the fields, where they could make no rapid progress. The gunners
unhitched the horses, and escaped as best they could.

Reille had drawn up in front of Betonio the small infantry reserve
(Fririon’s brigade) which he had wisely provided for himself,
flanked by Boyer’s dragoons and Curto’s brigade of light cavalry.
The object of this stand was not only to give Menne’s and Digeon’s
troops a nucleus on which they could rally, but to gain time for
Lamartinière to draw off from in front of Gamarra Mayor bridge, where
he was still hotly engaged with Oswald’s division. This infantry got
away in better order than most French troops on that day, and even
brought off its divisional battery, though that of the cavalry which
had been co-operating with it had to be left behind not far from the
river-bank, having got into a marshy bottom where it stuck fast. The
Franco-Spaniards of Casapalacios and their attendant cavalry escaped
over the hills east of Durana, pursued by Longa, who took many
prisoners from them.

When Lamartinière’s division had come in, Reille made a rapid retreat
to the woods of Zurbano, a mile and a half behind Betonio, which
promised good cover. He was now being pursued by the whole of Graham’s
corps, which had crossed the Zadorra when the bridges were abandoned.
Pack’s brigade, followed by the 1st Division and Bradford, advanced on
Arriaga; they were somewhat late owing to slow filing over the bridge.
At Gamarra Oswald sent in the pursuit of Lamartinière two squadrons of
light dragoons[600] which had been attached to his column; these were
followed by the rest of their brigade, which Graham sent up from the
main road to join them, and also by Bock’s German dragoons. The object
of using the smaller and more remote bridge was that cavalry crossing
by it had a better chance of getting into Reille’s rear than they would
have secured by passing at Arriaga. The much exhausted 5th Division
followed the cavalry.

Having reached the edge of the woods, Reille ordered the bulk of his
troops to push on hard, by the two parallel roads which traverse
them, keeping Fririon’s brigade in hand as a fighting rearguard. The
rather disordered columns were emerging on the east side of the woods,
and streaming into and past the village of Zurbano, when the leading
squadrons of the 12th and 16th Light Dragoons came in upon them.
These squadrons had avoided entangling themselves in the trees till
the French rearguard had passed on, but prepared to charge the moment
they got into open ground, though the main body of the brigade had not
come up. They found opposed to them a regiment of Boyer’s dragoons,
supported by another of hussars, which they charged but did not
break[601]. But on the coming up of the rear squadrons, the attack was
renewed with success. The French cavalry gave way, but only to clear
the front of the 36th Line of Fririon’s brigade, which was in square
outside Zurbano. The British light dragoons swept down on the square,
but were completely repulsed by its steady fire. This gained time for
the rest of Reille’s troops to make off, and the pursuit slackened.
But the bulk of the French went off in such haste that they abandoned
four guns of Lamartinière’s artillery, and took away with them only the
remaining two--the sole pieces that escaped that day of the immense
train of Joseph’s three armies. Some hundreds of stragglers were taken,
but no single unit of the retiring force was cut off or captured whole.
Reille wisely kept his army, so long as was possible, on the side-paths
by Arbulo and Oreytia, before debouching into the main Salvatierra
road, which was seething over with the wrecks of the other armies and
the convoys. Hence he succeeded in escaping the utter confusion into
which the rest fell, and, finally, when he turned into the main track,
was able to constitute himself a rearguard to the whole. Graham’s
pursuit of him seems to have been slow and cautious--no troops indeed
ever came near the retreating columns except the two light dragoon
regiments, the Caçador battalions of Pack and Bradford, and some of
Longa’s skirmishers, who (as Reille mentions) followed him along the
hills on his left, shooting down into the retreating masses, but not
attempting to break in. The 5th Division appears to have followed not
much farther than the open ground beyond the woods of Zurbano, where it
halted and encamped after eight o’clock in some bean-fields. Nor does
it seem that the 1st Division got more than a league or so beyond the
Zadorra[602]. The Caçadores and cavalry, however, did not halt till
they reached El Burgo, four or five miles farther on.

The scene was very different on the other side of Vittoria, where
D’Erlon’s army was pushing its way, in utter disorder, through the
fields and by-paths over which the Parks and convoy were trying in
vain to get off, and Gazan’s (farther to the south) was making a dash
over ground of the most tiresome sort. For in the rugged tract east
of Esquivel and Armentia such paths as there were mostly ran in the
wrong direction--north and south instead of east and west--and it
was necessary to disregard them and to strike across country. Six
successive ravines lay in the way--marshy bottoms in which ran trifling
brooks descending toward the Zadorra--and several woods on the ridges
between the ravines. Hill’s and Cole’s skirmishers were pressing in
the rear, and above, on the heights of Puebla, Morillo’s and Cameron’s
troops could be seen hurrying along with the intention of getting
ahead of the retreating masses. The confusion growing worse every
moment--for companies and battalions each struck out for the easiest
line of retreat without regard for their neighbours--Gazan gave orders
to abandon all the artillery, which was getting embogged, battery after
battery, in the ravines, and gave leave for every unit to shift for
itself--general _sauve-qui-peut_. The horses were unhitched from the
guns and caissons, many of the infantry threw off their packs, and the
army went off broadcast, some in the direction of Metauco and Arbulo,
others by village paths more to the south. The general stream finally
flowed into the Salvatierra road, where it was covered by the Army of
Portugal, which was making a much more orderly retreat[603]. English
eye-witnesses of this part of the battle complain bitterly that no
horsemen ever came up to assist the wearied 2nd Division infantry
in the pursuit, and maintain that thousands of prisoners might have
been taken by a few squadrons[604]. But all the cavalry seems to have
been directed on Vittoria by the high road, and save Grant’s hussar
brigade none of it came into action. This is sufficiently proved by
its casualty lists--in R. Hill’s, Ponsonby’s, Long’s, Victor Alten’s,
and Fane’s brigades that day the total losses were one man killed
and eleven wounded! Only Anson’s Light Dragoons in Graham’s corps
and Grant’s regiments in the centre got into the fighting at all.
The rugged ground, it is true, was unfavourable for cavalry action
in regular order, but it was almost as unfavourable for disordered
infantry escaping over ravines and ditches. Something was wrong here
in the general direction of the mounted arm--perhaps it suffered from
the want of a responsible cavalry leader--the brigadiers dared not act
for themselves, and Bock (the senior cavalry officer) was not only
short-sighted in the extreme, but absent from the main battle all day
in Graham’s corps. One cannot but suspect that Wellington’s thunderings
in previous years, against reckless cavalry action, were always present
in the minds of colonels and brigadiers who had a chance before them.
And possibly, in the end, there was more gained by the avoidance of
mistakes of rashness than lost by the missing of opportunities, if we
take the war as a whole. But at Vittoria it would most certainly appear
that the great mass of British cavalry might as well have been on the
other side of the Ebro for all the good that it accomplished.

It only remains to speak of the chaos in the fields and roads east of
Vittoria. When the general _débâcle_ began King Joseph and Jourdan took
their post on a low hill half a mile east of the town, and endeavoured
to organize the departure of the Park and convoys--a hopeless task, for
the roads were blocked, and no one listened to orders. It was in vain
that aides-de-camp and orderlies were sent in all directions. Presently
a flood of fugitives were driven in upon the staff, by the approach
of British cavalry in full career. These were Grant’s 10th and 18th
Hussars, who had turned the town on its left, and galloped down on the
prey before them. Joseph had only with him the two squadrons of his
Lancers of the Guard, which had been acting as head-quarters escort
all day. It would appear that the Guard Hussars came up to join them
about this time. At any rate, these two small regiments made a valiant
attempt to hold off the hussars--they were of course beaten, being
hopelessly outnumbered[605]. The King and staff had to fly as best
they could, and were much scattered, galloping over fields and marshy
ravines, mixed with military and civil fugitives of all sorts. Some of
the British hussars followed the throng, taking a good many prisoners
by the way: more, it is to be feared, stopped behind to gather the
not too creditable first-fruits of victory, by plundering the royal
carriages, which lay behind the scene of their charge. The French
stragglers had already shown them the way.

Wellington, on reaching Vittoria, set Robert Hill’s brigade of the
Household Cavalry to guard the town from plunder, and sent on the
rest of the horse, and the infantry as they came up, in pursuit of
the enemy. The French, however, had by now a good start, and troops
in order cannot keep up with troops in disorder, who have got rid of
their impedimenta, and scattered themselves. The country, moreover,
was unfavourable for cavalry, as has been said above, and the
infantry divisions were tired out. The chase ended five miles beyond
Vittoria--the enemy, when last seen, being still on the run, with no
formed rearguard except on the side road where the Army of Portugal was
retreating.

If the prisoners were fewer than might have been expected, the material
captured was such as no European army had ever laid hands on before,
since Alexander’s Macedonians plundered the camp of the Persian king
after the battle of Issus. The military trophies compared well even
with those of Leipzig and Waterloo--151 guns, 415 caissons, 100
artillery waggons. Probably no other army ever left _all_ its artillery
save two solitary pieces in the enemy’s hands[606]. There was but one
flag captured, and that was only the standard of a battalion of the
100th Line which had been reduced in May, and had not been actually
borne in the battle[607]. The baton of Jourdan, as Marshal of the
Empire, was an interesting souvenir, which delighted the Prince Regent
when it arrived in London[608], but only bore witness to the fact that
his personal baggage, like that of his King, had been captured. A few
thousand extra prisoners--the total taken was only about 2,000--would
have been more acceptable tokens of victory.

But non-military spoil was enormous--almost incredible. It represented
the exploitation of Spain for six long years by its conquerors. ‘To
the accumulated plunder of Andalusia were added the collections made
by the other French armies--the personal baggage of the King--fourgons
having inscribed on them in large letters “_Domaine extérieur de S.M.
l’Empereur_”--the military chest containing the millions recently
received from France for the payment of the Army, and not yet
distributed--jewels, pictures, embroidery, silks, all manner of things
costly and portable had been assiduously transported thus far. Removed
from their frames and rolled up carefully, were the finest Italian
pictures from the royal collections of Madrid: they were found in the
“imperials” of Joseph’s own carriages. All this mixed with cannon,
overturned coaches, broken-down waggons, forsaken tumbrils, wounded
soldiers, French and Spanish civilians, women and children, dead horses
and mules, absolutely covered the face of the country, extending
over the surface of a flat containing many hundred acres[609].’
The miserable crowd was guessed by an eye-witness to have numbered
nearly 20,000 persons. Spanish and French camp-followers and military
stragglers had already started plunder--on them supervened English and
Portuguese civil and military vultures of the same sort--servants and
muleteers by the thousand, bad soldiers by the hundred: for while the
good men marched on, the bad ones melted out of the ranks and flew to
the spoil, evading the officers who tried to urge them on. In such a
chaos evasion was easy. Nor were the commissioned ranks altogether
without their unobtrusive seekers after gain--as witness the subjoined
narrative by one whom a companion in a contemporary letter describes as
a ‘graceless youth.’

‘As L. and I rode out of Vittoria, we came to the camp in less than a
mile. On the left-hand side of the road was a heap of ransacked waggons
already broken up and dismantled. There arose a shout from a number
of persons among the waggons, and we found that they had discovered
one yet unopened. We cantered up and found some men using all possible
force to break open three iron clasps secured with padlocks. On the
side of the fourgon was painted “Le Lieutenant-Général Villatte.” The
hasps gave way, and a shout followed. The whole surface of the waggon
was packed with church plate, mixed with bags of dollars. A man who
thrust his arm down said that the bottom was full of loose dollars
and boxes. L. and I were the only ones on horseback, and pushed close
to the waggon. He swung out a large chalice, and buckling it to his
holster-strap cantered off. As the people were crowding to lay hold of
the plate, I noted a mahogany box about eighteen inches by two feet,
with brass clasps. I picked out four men, told them that the box was
the real thing, and if they would fetch it out we would see what it
held. They caught the idea: the box was very heavy. I led the way
through the standing corn, six or seven feet high, to a small shed,
where we put it down and tried to get it open. After several devices
had failed, two men found a large stone, and, lifting it as high as
they could, dropped it on the box. It withstood several blows, but at
length gave way. Gold doubloons and smaller pieces filled the whole
box, in which were mixed some bags with trinkets. Just then an Ordnance
store-keeper came up, and said there was no time to count shares: he
would go round and give a handfull in turn to each. He first poured
a double handfull into my holster. The second round was a smaller
handfull. By this time I was reflecting that I was the only officer
present, and in rather an awkward position. I said they might have
the rest of my share,--there was first a look of surprise, and then a
burst of laughter, and I trotted away. I rode eight or ten miles to
the bivouack and found the officers in an ancient church--housed à la
Cromwell. On the 23rd, before we left our quarters, I and ---- went up
into the belfry, and counted out the gold--the doubloons alone made
nearly £400. I remitted £250 to my father, and purchased another horse
with part of the balance[610].’

General Villatte, no doubt, had special facilities in Andalusia--but
every fourgon and carriage contained something that had been worth
carrying off. The amount of hard cash discovered was almost incredible.
Men and officers who had been self-respecting enough to avoid the
unseemly rush at the waggons, had wonderful bargains at a sort of
impromptu fair or auction which was held among the débris of the convoy
that night. Good mules were going for three guineas--horses for ten.
Every one wished to get rid of the heavy duros and five-franc pieces,
which constituted the greater part of the plunder; six and eight
dollars respectively were offered and taken for a gold twenty-franc
piece or a guinea. ‘The camp was turned into a fair--it was lighted
up, the cars, &c., made into stands, upon which the things taken
were exposed for sale. Many soldiers, to add to the absurdity of the
scene, dressed themselves up in uniforms found in the chests. All the
Portuguese boys belonging to some divisions are dressed in the uniforms
of French officers--many of generals[611].’

Wellington had hoped to secure the five million francs of the French
subsidy which had just arrived at Vittoria before the battle. His
expectations were deceived; only one-twentieth of the sum was
recovered, though an inquisitorial search was made a few days later in
suspected quarters. One regiment, which had notoriously prospered, was
made to stack its knapsacks on the 23rd, and they were gone through in
detail by an assistant provost-marshal--but little was found: the men
had stowed away their gains in belts and secret pockets; or deposited
them with quartermasters and commissaries who were known to be honest
and silent.

The only feature in this discreditable scene that gives the historian
some satisfaction is to know that there was no mishandling of
prisoners--not even of prominent Spanish traitors. The only person
recorded to have been killed in the chaos was M. Thiébault, the King’s
treasurer, who fought to defend his private strong-box containing
100,000 dollars, and got shot[612]. The women were particularly well
treated--the Countess Gazan, wife of the Commander of the Army of the
South, was sent by Wellington’s orders in her own carriage to join her
husband--a courtesy acknowledged by several French diarists[613]. The
same leave was given later to many others, and the Commander-in-Chief
wrote to the Spanish Ministry to beg that no vengeance might be taken
on the captured _afrancesados_, and seems to have secured his end in
the main.

The French loss in the battle, according to the definitive report made
from the head-quarters of the three armies after they had got back
into France, was 42 officers and 716 men killed, 226 officers and
4,210 men wounded, and 23 officers and 2,825 prisoners or missing--a
total of 8,091. It is known that of the ‘missing’ some hundreds were
stragglers who rejoined later, and some other hundreds dead men, who
had not got into the list of killed. The total number of prisoners did
not really exceed 2,000. But on the other hand the official returns are
incomplete, not giving any figures for the artillery or train of the
Armies of Portugal and the Centre, or for the Royal Guards (which lost
11 officers and therefore probably 150 to 200 men), or for the General
Staff (which had 35 casualties), or for the stray troops of the Army of
the North present in the battle. Probably the real total, therefore,
was very much about the 8,000 men given by the official return.

The Allied casualties were just over 5,000--of whom 3,672 were British,
921 Portuguese, and 552 Spaniards. A glance at the table in the
Appendix will show how unequally they were distributed. Seven-tenths of
the whole loss fell on the 2nd and 3rd Divisions, with Grant’s brigade
of the 7th, Robinson’s of the 5th, and Stubbs’s Portuguese in the 4th.
These troops furnished over 3,500 of the total loss of 5,158. The 1st
Division (54 casualties), the British brigades of the 4th Division (125
casualties), Hay’s and Spry’s brigades of the 5th (200 casualties),
Barnes’ and Lecor’s of the 7th (no casualties[614]), the Light Division
(132 casualties), Silveira’s Division (10 casualties), the cavalry (155
casualties) had no losses of importance. The 266 men marked as missing
were all either dead or absent marauding, save 40 of the 71st whom the
French took prisoners to Pampeluna. The Spanish loss of 14 officers
and 524 men was entirely in Morillo’s and Longa’s Divisions, and much
heavier among the Estremadurans, who fought so well on the heights of
La Puebla, than among the Cantabrians who skirmished all day at Durana.
Giron’s Galicians were never engaged, having only arrived in the rear
of Graham’s column just as the fighting north of the Zadorra was over.
They encamped round Arriaga at the end of the day.

That the battle of Vittoria was the crowning-point of a very brilliant
strategic campaign is obvious. That in tactical detail it was not by
any means so brilliant an example of what Wellington and his army could
accomplish, is equally obvious. Was the General’s plan to blame? or
was a well-framed scheme wrecked by the faults of subordinates? It is
always a dangerous matter to criticize Wellington’s arrangements--so
much seems clear to the historian that could not possibly have been
known to the soldier on the morning of June 21st. It is obvious to us
now that there was a fair chance not only of beating the French army,
and of cutting off its retreat on Bayonne, but of surrounding and
destroying at least a considerable portion of it. Wellington’s orders
are always extremely reticent in stating his final aims, and give a
list of things to be done by each division, rather than a general
appreciation of what he intends the army to accomplish. But reading
his directions to Graham, Hill, and Dalhousie, and looking at the way
on which they work out on the map, and the allocation of forces in
each column, it would seem that in view of the distribution of the
French troops on the afternoon of June 20th, he planned a complete
encircling scheme, which should not only accomplish what he actually
did accomplish, but much more. Graham, with his 20,000 men, must have
been intended not only to force the line of the Zadorra and cut the
Royal Road, but to fall upon the rear of the whole French army, which
on the afternoon of the 20th had been seen to have a most inadequate
flank-guard towards the north-east. Hill’s 20,000 men were not, as
Jourdan thought, the only main attack, nor as Gazan (equally in error)
thought, a mere demonstration. They were intended to make an encircling
movement to the south, as strong as Graham’s similar movement to the
north. But obviously both the flanking columns, Hill’s far more than
Graham’s, were in danger of being repulsed, if the French could turn
large unemployed reserves upon them. Wherefore the central attacks, by
the 4th and Light Divisions on the Nanclares side, and by the 3rd and
7th Divisions on the Mendoza side, were necessary in order to contain
any troops which Jourdan might have sent off to overwhelm Hill or
Graham.

And here comes the weak point of the whole scheme--all the movements
had to be made through defiles and over rough country: Hill had to
debouch from the narrow pass of Puebla, Graham had a long mountain
road from Murguia, and, worst of all, Dalhousie, with the 3rd and 7th
Divisions, had to cross the watershed of a very considerable mountain
by mere peasants’ tracks. Only the column which marched from the
Bayas to Nanclares had decent going on a second-rate road. There was,
therefore, a considerable danger that some part of the complicated
scheme might miscarry. And any failure at one point imperilled the
whole, since the Nanclares column was not to act till Hill was well
forward, and the Mendoza column was ordered to get into touch with the
troops to its right, and regulate its movements by them; while Graham,
still farther off, was also to guide himself by what was going on upon
his right, to correct himself with the Mendoza column, and only to
attack on the Bilbao road when it should be seen that an attack would
be obviously useful to the main advance.

Hill discharged his part of the scheme to admiration, as he always did
anything committed to him, and took up the attention of the main part
of the Army of the South. But the central and left attacks did not
proceed as Wellington had desired. Graham got to his destined position
within the time allotted to him, but when he had reached it, was slow
and unenterprising in his action. He was seeking for Dalhousie’s
column, with which he had been directed to co-ordinate his operations:
he sent out cavalry scouts and Bradford’s Portuguese to his right, but
could find nothing. This, I think, explains but does not wholly excuse
his caution at noon. But it neither explains nor excuses at all his
tactics after he had received, at two o’clock, Wellington’s orders
telling him to press the enemy hard, and make his power felt. With his
two British divisions, the Portuguese of Pack and Bradford, and two
cavalry brigades, he only made a genuine attack at one point, and did
not put into serious action (as the casualty lists show) more than
four battalions--those used at Gamarra Mayor. The whole left column
was contained by little more than half of its number of French troops.
Graham says in his dispatch to Wellington that ‘in face of such force
as the enemy showed it was evidently impossible to push a column across
the river by Gamarra bridge.’ He does not explain his inactivity at
other points, except by mentioning that the enemy had ‘at least two
divisions in reserve on strong ground behind the river[615].’ There was
really only one brigade in reserve, and so far from being compelled to
attack at Gamarra only, Graham had besides Arriaga bridge on the main
road, two other bridges open to assault (those of Goveo and Yurre),
besides at least one and probably three fords. All these more southern
passages were watched by cavalry only, without infantry or guns. It
is clear that Graham could have got across the Zadorra somewhere, if
he had tried. Very probably his quiescence was due to his failing
eyesight, which had been noticed very clearly by those about him during
this campaign[616]. The only part of his corps which did really useful
work was Longa’s Spanish division, which at least cut the Bayonne road
at the proper place and time.

But if Graham’s tactics cannot be praised, Lord Dalhousie was even
more responsible for the imperfect consequence of the victory. Why
Wellington put this fussy and occasionally disobedient officer
in charge of the left-centre column, instead of Picton, passes
understanding. The non-arrival of the 7th Division, which was to lead
the attack, was due to incompetent work by him or his staff. He says in
his dispatch that he was delayed by several accidents to his artillery
(Cairnes’s battery). But from his own narrative we see that the guns
got up almost as soon as his leading infantry brigade (Grant’s), while
his two rear brigades (Barnes and Le Cor) never reached the front in
time to fire a shot. What really happened was that for want of staff
guidance, for which the divisional commander was responsible, these
troops did not take the path assigned to them, and went right over,
instead of skirting, the summit of Monte Arrato, making an apparently
short (and precipitous) cut, which turned out to be a very long
one[617]. So when Dalhousie did arrive, with one brigade and his guns,
Picton had long been waiting by Las Guetas in a state of justifiable
irritation. Finally, Dalhousie (lacking the greater part of his
division) did not attack till he got peremptory orders to do so from
the Commander-in-Chief. Hence the extreme delay, which caused grave
risk to Hill’s wing, so long engaged without support. It is fair to
add that the delay had one good effect--since it led Jourdan to think
that his right was not going to be attacked, and therefore to send off
Villatte’s and Cassagne’s divisions to the far left. If Dalhousie had
advanced an hour earlier, these divisions would have been near enough
to support Leval. But this is no justification for the late arrival and
long hesitations of the commander of the 7th Division. Undoubtedly a
part of the responsibility devolves on Wellington himself, for putting
an untried officer in charge of a crucial part of the day’s operations,
when he had in Picton an old and experienced tactician ready to hand.

The strategical plan was so good that minor faults of execution could
not mar its general success. Yet it must be remembered that, if all
had worked out with minute accuracy, the French army would have been
destroyed, instead of merely losing its artillery and train. And the
fact that 55,000 men escaped to France, even if in sorry condition,
made the later campaign of the Pyrenees possible. There would have been
no combats of Maya and Roncesvalles, no battles of Sorauren and St.
Marcial, if the eight French divisions present at Vittoria had been
annihilated, instead of being driven in disorder on to an eccentric
line of retreat.

SECTION XXXVII

EXPULSION OF THE FRENCH FROM SPAIN

CHAPTER I

THE PURSUIT OF CLAUSEL

At ten o’clock on the morning of June 22nd Wellington moved out from
Vittoria in pursuit of the French. Touch with them had been lost on
the preceding night, as the divisions which had fought the battle had
ceased to move on after dark, and had settled into bivouacs four or
five miles beyond the city. The enemy, on the other hand, had continued
his flight in the darkness, till sheer exhaustion compelled each man
to throw himself down where he was, all order having been lost in most
units, and only Reille’s rearguard of the Army of Portugal having
kept its ranks. About midnight the majority had run to a standstill,
and the hills along the Salvatierra road began to be covered with
thousands of little fires, round which small groups were cooking
the scanty rations that they had saved in their haversacks. ‘The
impromptu illumination had a very pretty effect: if the enemy had seen
it he might have thought that we had rallied and were in order. But
it was only next morning that the regiments began to coalesce, and
reorganization was not complete till we got back to France. Generals
were seeking their divisions, colonels their regiments, officers
their companies. They found them later--but one thing was never found
again--the crown of Spain, fallen for ever from the brow on which it
was not to be replaced[618].’ King Joseph himself, pushing on ahead of
the rout, reached Salvatierra, sixteen miles from the field, before he
dismounted, and shared a meagre and melancholy supper with D’Erlon and
two ministers, the Irish-Spaniard O’Farrill and the Frenchman Miot de
Melito. To them entered later Jourdan, who had been separated from
the rest of the staff in the flight. He flung himself down to the
table, saying, ‘Well, gentlemen, they _would_ have a battle, and it is
a lost battle,’ after which no one said anything more. This was the
old marshal’s reflection on the generals who, all through the retreat,
had been urging that it was shameful to evacuate Spain without risking
a general action. After three hours’ halt, sleep for some, but the
wakefulness of exhaustion for others, the King’s party got to horse at
dawn, and rode on toward Pampeluna, the army straggling behind them.
It was a miserable rainy day with occasional thunderstorms: every one,
from Joseph to the meanest camp-follower, was in the same state of
mental and physical exhaustion. But the one thing which should have
finished the whole game was wanting--there was practically no pursuit.

Of Wellington’s nine brigades of cavalry only two, those of Grant
and Anson, had been seriously engaged on the 21st, and had suffered
appreciable losses. The other seven were intact, and had not been in
action. It is obvious that they could not have been used to effect
in the darkness of the night, and over rough ground and an unknown
track. But why an early pursuit at dawn was not taken in hand it is
difficult to make out. Even the same promptness which had been shown
after Salamanca, and which had been rewarded by the lucky gleanings of
Garcia Hernandez, was wanting on this occasion. There was no excuse for
the late start of the cavalry, and in consequence it rode as far as
Salvatierra without picking up more than a few wounded stragglers and
worn-out horses and mules. The French had gone off at dawn, and were
many miles ahead.

The infantry followed slowly; not only were the men tired by the
late marches and their legitimate exertions in the battle, but many
thousands had spent the hours of darkness in a surreptitious visit to
the field of the convoy, and had come back to the regimental bivouac
with plunder of all kinds bought at the cost of a sleepless night. Many
had not come back at all, but were lying drunk or snoring among the
débris of the French camps. Wellington wrote in high wrath to Bathurst,
the Minister for War: ‘We started with the army in the highest order,
and up to the day of the battle nothing could get on better. But that
event has (as usual)[619] annihilated all discipline. The soldiers of
the army have got among them about a million sterling in money, with
the exception of about 100,000 dollars, which were got for the military
chest. They are incapable of marching in pursuit of the enemy, and
are totally knocked up. Rain has come and increased the fatigue, and
I am quite sure that we have now out of the ranks double the amount
of our loss in the battle, and that we have more stragglers in the
pursuit than the enemy have, and never in one day make more than an
ordinary march. This is the consequence of the state of discipline in
the British army. We may gain the greatest victories, but we shall do
no good till we so far alter our system as to force all ranks to do
their duty. The new regiments are as usual worst of all. The ---- are a
disgrace to the name of soldier, in action as elsewhere: I shall take
their horses from them, and send the men back to England, if I cannot
get the better of them in any other manner[620].’

This, of course, is one of Wellington’s periodical explosions of
general indiscriminating rage against the army which, as he confessed
on other occasions, had brought him out of many a dangerous scrape by
its sheer hard fighting. He went on a few days later with language that
can hardly be forgiven: ‘We have in the Service the scum of the earth
as common soldiers, and of late years have been doing everything in our
power, both by law and by publication, to relax the discipline by which
alone such men can be kept in order. The officers of the lower ranks
will not perform the duty required from them to keep the soldiers in
order. The non-commissioned officers are (as I have repeatedly stated)
as bad as the men. It is really a disgrace to have anything to say to
such men as some of our soldiers are[621].’ The Commander-in-Chief’s
own panacea was more shooting, and much more flogging. All this
language is comprehensible in a moment of irritation, but was cruelly
unjust to many corps which kept their discipline intact, never
straggled, and needed no cat-o’-nine-tails: there were battalions
where the lash was unknown for months at a time. But Wellington usually
ignored the moral side of things: he seldom spoke to his men about
honour or patriotism or _esprit de corps_, and long years afterwards
officially informed a Royal Commission on the Army that ‘he had no idea
of any great effect being produced on British soldiers by anything but
the immediate fear of corporal punishment.’ It is sad to find such
mentality in a man of strict honour and high military genius. On this
particular occasion he, no doubt, did well to be angry: but were there
no regiments which could have marched at dawn to keep up the pursuit?
Undoubtedly there were many: Ponsonby’s heavy dragoons had ridden
through the chaos of plunder without a man leaving the ranks, and had
bivouacked five miles to the front of Vittoria. There were several
infantry brigades which had been so far to the left or the right in the
action that they never came near the temptation, and only remembered
the night of the 21st as one of short commons and hard lying[622].
Perhaps the sight of the disgraceful confusion in and about Vittoria
gave the Commander-in-Chief an exaggerated impression of the general
condition of the army. And undoubtedly he had an absorbing night’s task
before him, when he sat down to work out the entire recasting of his
operations which the victory had made necessary.

His main design, as expressed in the order for the 22nd, was to send
Giron and Longa into Biscay by the great Bayonne _chaussée_, to pursue
Maucune’s convoy and to cut off, if possible, Foy and the garrison
of Bilbao, while the Anglo-Portuguese army marched in pursuit of
the French main army on Pampeluna. Clausel had been heard of in the
direction of Logroño; a zealous and patriotic innkeeper had ridden 40
miles on the night of the 20th to report to Wellington the position of
the head of his column; and it was the knowledge that he was more than
a full day’s march from Vittoria which had enabled the arrangements for
the battle to be made with complete security against any intervention
on his part[623]. But, though it was most probable that he would
have heard of the disaster to the King’s army, and have turned back
to Pampeluna or Saragossa, there was a chance that the news might not
have reached him. If so, he could be at Vittoria by the afternoon of
the 22nd, and his appearance there might prove very tiresome, as the
British hospitals and the whole spoil of the battle would have been
at his mercy. Wherefore Wellington, who somewhat underrated Clausel’s
strength[624], left behind at Vittoria the 5th Division and R. Hill’s
cavalry brigade to guard the place: the 6th Division was due to arrive
at noon, or not much later, from Medina de Pomar, so that 12,000 men
would be available if the possible but improbable event of a raid on
Vittoria should come to pass.

These precautions having been taken, the army marched off at ten
o’clock, in three columns, the ‘Centre Column’ of previous days
with head-quarters and the bulk of the cavalry sticking to the
main Salvatierra-Pampeluna road, while Hill and Graham kept to
side-tracks[625], which were available so long as the march lay in the
plain of Vittoria, but converged on Salvatierra, where the watershed
comes, and the mountains of Navarre block the way. Here all the roads
met, and there was a steep rise and a defile, before the head-waters of
the Araquil, the main river of north-western Navarre, were reached.

That afternoon Wellington’s quartermaster-general, George Murray--about
the only man who ever dared to make a suggestion to his chief--asked
him whether it might not be worth while to send a detachment northward,
by the mountain road which goes from Salvatierra to Villafranca on
the great Bayonne _chaussée_. For Giron and Longa might have been
detained by the French forts at the defile of Salinas, at Mondragon
and elsewhere, and so have failed to get forward in their pursuit of
Maucune’s convoy and the Bilbao garrison. But a force sent across
the hills from Salvatierra would cut in to the _chaussée_ behind
the fortified posts; and, if the convoy were moving slowly, might
catch it as it passed through Villafranca, or at any rate intercept
other stray bodies of French troops[626]. Wellington approved the
idea at once, and ordered Graham to take the greater part of his own
column--the 1st Division, Pack’s, and Bradford’s Portuguese, and
Anson’s cavalry brigade,--to leave the pursuit of the King’s army, and
to march to co-operate with the Spanish troops who had already been
detached to press the retreat of the French garrisons of Biscay. The
road Salvatierra-Villafranca turned out practicable for all arms, but
very trying both to cavalry and artillery, its first stage being a
long uphill pull, over a road of the most stony kind--on the watershed
at the Puerto de San Adrian it was taken through a tunnel cut in the
solid rock. The diversion of Graham’s column being an afterthought--the
orders for it were only issued at 3 p.m.--there was some delay in
finding the troops in an afternoon of blinding rain, and turning them
on to the new direction. The general himself, as his dispatch shows,
was not reached by Wellington’s orders till next morning[627]. Only the
light brigade of the German Legion got well forward on the 22nd,--the
rest of the 1st Division and Bradford’s Portuguese hardly got started.
Anson’s Light Dragoons and Pack’s Portuguese, like Graham himself,
never received their orders at all that night, having pushed on beyond
Salvatierra for two leagues or more, where the officers sent in search
of them failed to catch them up. They had actually gone forward some
miles farther towards Navarre, on the morning of the 23rd, before
they were found and set right. This caused a tiresome counter-march
of some miles to get back to Salvatierra and the cross-roads.
Wellington was much vexed with the bad staff-work, but vented his
wrath, unfortunately, not on his own aides-de-camp but on a meritorious
officer whom they had failed to find or warn. Captain Norman Ramsay,
the hero of the ‘artillery charge’ at Fuentes de Oñoro[628], was
attached with his battery to Anson’s cavalry brigade. He was still
moving eastward, on the night of the 22nd, when the Commander-in-Chief
chanced to come upon him. Wellington at once ordered him to halt,
billet his men in a neighbouring village, and wait for new directions.
According to Ramsay’s version of the words used, they were that ‘if
there were any orders for the troop in the course of the night, he
would send them[629].’ But Wellington was under the impression that
the phrase used was that Ramsay was not to move until he had direct
orders from Head-Quarters as to his route. Next morning about 6 a.m. an
assistant quartermaster-general (Captain Campbell) came to the village,
and asked Ramsay if he had yet received his directions. On hearing that
he had not, the staff-officer told him to follow Anson’s brigade, who
(as Ramsay supposed) were still moving eastward; for no hint of the
change of route had been given him on the previous night. The battery
was started off again on the road towards Pampeluna, and its commander
rode on ahead to seek for the cavalry to whom he was attached. At this
moment Wellington came up, expressed high wrath at finding the guns
on the move in the wrong direction, and asked for Ramsay, who was not
forthcoming for some time. Whereupon the angry general ordered him to
be put under arrest for flagrant disobedience, and spoke of trying him
by court martial. His version of the offence was that ‘Captain Ramsay
disobeyed a positive order given him verbally by me, in expectation of
a circumstance which occurred, namely that he might receive orders,
from someone else to move as I did not wish him to move[630].’ It is
easy to see how the vagueness in the wording of the order, or even a
misconception of the stress laid upon one of its clauses, brought about
Ramsay’s mistake. He understood that he was to halt till he got orders,
and took Campbell’s message to be the orders meant. It is pretty clear
from Wellington’s own language that Ramsay was not warned that he might
receive orders not directly proceeding from G.H.Q., which he was to
disregard entirely. Explanation of that kind would not have been in the
Wellingtonian manner.

The unfortunate battery-commander, who had done splendid service on
the 21st, and had a brilliant record behind him, gained the sympathy
of the whole army, and such senior officers as dared continued to
make intercession for his pardon. After keeping him for some weeks
under arrest, Wellington resolved not to try him, and to send him
back to his battery. But he was cut out of the reward which he had
earned at Vittoria, and did not receive the brevet advance in rank
or the decorations given to the other battery-commanders, so that he
practically lost ground in comparison with his equals and fell to the
bottom of the list. This was a deadly blow to Ramsay, who was sensitive
and full of professional pride: he kept silence--not so his comrades,
who filed the incident as another flagrant example of Wellington’s
dislike for and injustice to the artillery arm[631]. He fell, still
only a battery-commander, at Waterloo.

The result of the miscarriage of orders on the night of the 22nd and
the morning of the 23rd was that Graham’s turning column was late in
its movement. The general himself was one of the last to get the new
direction--the cavalry which should have been at the head of the march
was at its tail. The German Light Battalions were very far ahead of all
the other units, and had to hold back in order to let the rest come up.
Hence the attack on Villafranca was not delivered on the evening of the
23rd, as it might have been, but on the afternoon of the 24th, and in
the intervening twenty-four hours the greater part of the French troops
whom Graham might have cut off filed through Villafranca on their way
to Tolosa and the frontier, and only a flank-guard was brought to
action. Of this more in its proper place.

The rest of the troops under Wellington’s immediate eye, the ‘Centre
Column’ and Hill’s corps, pursued their way on the 23rd along
the Salvatierra-Pampeluna road--only Victor Alten’s hussars got
in touch with the tail of King Joseph’s fugitive host, which was
moving at a great pace and had a long start. There was now a proper
rearguard--Cassagne’s division of the Army of the Centre, which had
lost only 250 men at Vittoria, and had been more shaken than hurt,
having replaced the much-tried Army of Portugal as the covering force.
King Joseph halted for some hours at Yrurzun, and there gave orders
for Reille to diverge from the main line of retreat, and to take
his two divisions, a cavalry brigade, and all the teams of his lost
artillery by the route of Santesteban and the valley of the Bastan,
back to the French frontier on the lower Bidassoa[632]. Finding himself
so feebly pursued, he had jumped to the conclusion that Wellington
might have marched with the bulk of his force on the great _chaussée_,
making directly for Irun and Bayonne. There being nothing to stop him
save the scattered detachments under Foy, an invasion of France was
possible. Hence Reille was directed to join Foy in haste, and cover the
line of the Bidassoa. Thus Graham and Reille were now moving parallel
to each other, both in a direct northerly direction, but separated by
many a mile of impracticable mountains. The Armies of the South and
Centre continued their retreat on Pampeluna.

Meanwhile Wellington on the morning of the 23rd received some important
news from Vittoria. The unexpected had happened: Clausel having failed
to hear of the King’s defeat--as chance would have it--was marching
on the city by the Trevino road. Pakenham had already arrived there,
but the 5th Division had gone forward to join the tail of Graham’s
column on being relieved by the 6th, nothing having yet been heard
of the French till midday. The force on the spot, therefore, was
rather weak, if Clausel had meant mischief. But he did not, and was
becoming aware of the danger of his own position. He had heard on
the 20th, when he was in march along the Ebro from Logroño on Haro,
that the King had evacuated Miranda that day, and was drawing back
to Vittoria. It was obviously dangerous to seek to join him by the
road near the river, and Clausel on the 21st, the day of the battle,
was trying to recover touch with the main army by taking the route
La Guardia-Trevino. This détour removed him out of striking distance
during all the critical hours. By some strange chance he neither met
any of the King’s aides-de-camp, who were hunting for him on all sides,
nor fell in with any of the fugitives from the routed army either on
the night of the 21st nor on the morning of the 22nd. He resumed his
march from La Guardia, and reached Trevino in the afternoon. There he
heard from _afrancesados_ the news that there had been a disastrous
battle on the previous day, but could get no details. He therefore
detached some squadrons to explore along the mountain road from Trevino
to Vittoria--they made their way as far as the crest of the heights of
Puebla, above Berostigueta, driving in first some Spanish irregulars,
and then picquets of British cavalry; from the watershed they could see
allied troops getting into order, but not their numbers. Pakenham, on
being warned by the guerrilleros, had occupied Vittoria town with two
Portuguese battalions, drawn up the rest of his troops for a fight, and
sent to warn Oswald and the 5th Division, as well as Giron’s Spaniards,
who had not gone many miles yet, that trouble was at hand. Both of
these forces halted and prepared to turn back.

But on hearing the report of his horsemen Clausel had no thought of a
raid on Vittoria: his only idea was to get out of danger, and rejoin
the main army as quickly as possible. That Joseph and Jourdan had been
beaten, he was now aware; but details were wanting: he did not know
whether the rout had been complete, or whether the King’s army was
capable of rallying and making head at Pampeluna. If he had understood
that all the artillery had been lost, and that a retreat into France
was imminent, he might probably have given up the idea of a junction,
and have set out in haste to retire on Saragossa, by way of the main
road down the Ebro by Logroño and Tudela. But not knowing this, his
first plan was to march for Salvatierra by the mountainous road which
goes from Viana on the Ebro to the upper valley of the Ega. On the 23rd
he marched from Trevino to Viana, on the 24th he started out from that
place and went 20 miles as far as Santa Cruz de Campero, where he heard
that Mina and all his bands were on his flank, and that an English
column was coming down upon him from Salvatierra. The latter rumour was
false, but induced Clausel to abandon any idea of taking a short cut to
join the King. It would seem also that he had picked up some news as to
the crushing effect of Vittoria on the French army, and knew that it
must have fallen back on Pampeluna. He hurriedly retraced his steps,
picked up the garrison of Logroño and set out to move on Pampeluna
by the Mendavia-Puente la Reyna road late on the 25th. His vanguard
had got as far as Sesma when he heard that Mina had dropped down from
Estella to Lerin, blocking this road also. It might have been possible
to attack and beat him, but renewed reports that the British were also
approaching disturbed Clausel, and he swerved back to the Ebro by
cross-roads and crossed it at Lodosa on the 26th.

This move, which placed him on the high road from Logroño to Saragossa,
implied the abandonment of all hope of reaching Pampeluna and joining
the King. He had resolved to fall back on Aragon and seek refuge with
Suchet’s troops in that direction. But he had lost much time in his
counter-marches, and was on the 27th in greater danger than he knew,
since Wellington was now coming down from the north, in the hope of
heading him off and cutting his line of retreat. And if Clausel had
lost as much time in the next five days as he had in the last, his
position would have been most desperate, for Wellington had ascertained
his whereabouts, and was marching upon him in great strength, with
a good hope of intercepting him, if he were still adhering to his
original plan of making for Pampeluna and rejoining the King.

The idea that Clausel might be caught and destroyed had come to the
British general’s mind on the 26th, when he had reached the environs
of Pampeluna, and had made sure that the whole of King Joseph’s armies
were well on the road for France. The pursuit had been little more
fruitful on the 24th-25th than it had been on the 22nd-23rd. But at
least closer contact had been secured with the enemy: on the afternoon
of the 24th the leading British troops had brought D’Erlon’s rearguard
to action at the passage of the Araquil, in front of the cross-roads
at Yrurzun. This combat, in which the 1st German Hussars, the 1st and
3rd battalions of the 95th, and Ross’s battery were engaged against
Darmagnac’s division of the Army of the Centre[633] cost the enemy
about 100 casualties[634], and one of the only two guns which he
had brought off from Vittoria. It was a running fight, in which the
rearguard all the way from Yrurzun to Berrioplano was being turned and
driven in. But no large captures were made.

While this skirmish was in progress, on the afternoon of the 24th, the
main body of the French army was already on the march past Pampeluna
towards France. The troops were not allowed to enter the fortress,
where only the King, his General Staff, and his courtiers lodged on
the night of the 24th. It was feared that the famished soldiery might
plunder the stores if they got access to them, so they were taken round
by suburban roads, which did not pass through the city. Gazan with
the Army of the South started on the evening of the 24th, taking the
route by Zubiri and the Pass of Roncesvalles to St. Jean-Pied-de-Port.
D’Erlon set out nine hours later, at dawn on the 25th, using the better
road by the Col de Velate and the Pass of Maya, which took him to the
Bastan, whither Reille had gone before him. But while the Army of
Portugal passed on to the lower Bidassoa, the Army of the Centre was
ordered to halt in the Bastan and hold its ground if possible.

Only three or four hours after D’Erlon’s column had left the suburbs
of Pampeluna the first English vedettes showed themselves on the
Salvatierra road. These came from Victor Alten’s light cavalry; they
coasted round the city on the south, and picqueted the Puente la Reyna
and Tafalla roads, by either of which Clausel might conceivably be
on the move to join the King. But no trace of the French could be
found, save that of the retiring rearguard of the Army of the Centre.
Of British infantry only the Light Division appeared in front of the
fortress, on the side of Berrioplano, though the 4th and Grant’s
hussars were close behind it. Picton and Dalhousie with the 3rd and 7th
Divisions were still farther back on the Salvatierra road, and Hill’s
whole corps was told to halt until their predecessors should have
cleared the way in front of them. The 5th Division, having received the
alarm about Clausel’s raid on Vittoria, had turned back on the 23rd and
was a full march behind Hill. The 6th Division had now passed out of
Pakenham’s hands into those of Clinton, its normal commander, who had
just come up from Lisbon[635]. It remained at Vittoria when all danger
from Clausel was over, and had originally been intended to come in on
the rear of the 5th Division at Salvatierra, leaving the hospitals and
spoils under the guard of some details[636]. But other orders were soon
to reach it.

During the night of the 25th Wellington got the news from Mina that
Clausel’s column, which he had supposed to be making a hasty retreat
down the Ebro, ever since its vain appearance in front of Vittoria on
the evening of the 22nd, was much less far off than he had supposed.
Owing to its counter-marches on the 23rd-24th it had only just got
back to Logroño, and had started off from that town on the 25th by the
road north of the Ebro via Mendavia and Sesma, apparently heading for
Pampeluna. If this were Clausel’s game, he might be intercepted and
caught, and allied columns might thrust themselves between him and his
escape towards Saragossa or Jaca. The nearer he got to Pampeluna the
better, since the French main army was no longer there, but in rapid
march for its native soil.

The orders which Wellington had issued upon the afternoon of the 25th
for the movements of the army on the 26th, had contemplated nothing
more than the investment of Pampeluna by the 3rd and 7th Divisions on
the north side, and the Light and 4th Divisions on the south side of
the Arga. But the news which had come in from Mina caused a complete
change in his plans: the morning orders of the 26th direct Cole, with
the 4th and Light Divisions, not to linger near Pampeluna, but to
move off as far as the men could go on the Tudela road--to Mendavil,
half-way to Tafalla, if possible: Grant’s hussar brigade was to push
ahead in front of the infantry, and discover whether Clausel was to
be heard of on this road, or perhaps on the Estella-Puente la Reyna
road, which was an alternative (if less likely) track for him to take
if marching on Pampeluna. Hill was ordered to hurry up from the rear,
and replace in the blockade not only the troops of Cole, but those of
Picton and Dalhousie. For the 3rd and 7th Divisions were to get ready
to follow Cole’s column the moment that they were relieved: they were
to concentrate meanwhile at the village of Sielvas, south of the Arga,
and to march southward as soon as Hill came up. But it was calculated
that they would not be able to move till dawn on the 27th, as Hill had
a long way to come. Ponsonby’s cavalry brigade would attach itself to
them when the move should begin. Meanwhile, four divisions being set in
motion to head off Clausel from this side, another column was ordered
to strike across the mountains and fall in on his rear if possible.
The 6th Division was still at Vittoria on the 25th, as was R. Hill’s
brigade of heavy cavalry. Clinton (now commanding his old division in
lieu of Pakenham) received orders to start off with all speed on the
Logroño road, taking the Household Cavalry with him, and to endeavour
to catch up the retreating French. He made forced marches via Trevino
and Peñacerrada, and reached Logroño on the 27th, where he picked up
six abandoned French guns, but learned that Clausel had been gone for
two days, and had crossed the Ebro at Lodosa instead of continuing on
the Pampeluna road. There was little chance of catching him up, when he
had a start of two marches, but Clinton continued the pursuit as far as
Lerin on the Miranda-de-Arga road, where he gave it up. The Household
Cavalry returned to Logroño, where it was directed to go into billets,
as horsemen would not be wanted in the Pyrenees, while the 6th Division
marched at leisure from Lerin to Pampeluna[637].

The only real chance of catching Clausel was to head him off at Tudela,
by means of the four divisions which were descending upon him down the
Tafalla road. But a glance at the map will show that he could only
have been intercepted if he had displayed uncommon torpidity. For
having crossed the Ebro at Lodosa on the 26th he was only 35 miles from
Tudela on a good road: and marching hard he reached the town on the
afternoon of the 27th, when the advanced cavalry of the column sent to
intercept him had only got to Olite, 25 miles to the north, and the
Light Division at the head of the infantry column was 10 miles behind
at Barasoain. Clausel did not halt more than a few hours at Tudela:
there was no need for the intervention of the treacherous alcalde--who
figures in legends of the time--to bid him press on hard for Saragossa.
For the design, attributed to him by some of the contemporary British
diarists, of marching up from Tudela along the Aragon river, with the
object of reaching France and joining the King by way of Sanguesa was
never really in his mind. Ever since he had crossed the bridge of
Lodosa his only desire was to get to Saragossa in the shortest possible
time. Starting off again at dawn on the 28th, with his force increased
by the garrison of Tudela, he marched that day twenty miles to Mallen,
and on the 29th a similar distance to Alagon. On the 30th a shorter
stage of 15 miles brought him to Saragossa, where he found General
Paris, the Governor of Aragon, still completely ignorant of the battle
of Vittoria, though it had taken place nine days back.

Since the 26th Clausel had been practically out of danger, for he
had the Ebro, whose bridges at Lodosa and Tudela he had destroyed,
between him and Wellington’s columns. There was no force which could
have stopped him, for there are 20 miles less of road between Lodosa
and Tudela than between Pampeluna and Tudela. Wellington had hoped
for a moment that Mina might have intercepted the French column at
Tudela, and have held it in check long enough to allow the British to
come up. But though Mina was, so far as mere distances went, capable
of striking at Tudela, two things prevented him from being able to do
so--the first was the obstacle of the Ebro, the second the fact that
Tudela was a fortified place with a competent garrison. Even if the
great guerrillero had got his men across the river, he certainly could
not have captured Tudela, and equally certainly would have been beaten
by Clausel, when the French column--double his available force in
numbers--came up, if he had dared to offer battle in the open near the
town.

During the night of the 27th Wellington heard that Clausel had
slipped past Tudela in haste, and that Mina, quite unable to stop
him, was only able to follow him with his cavalry--to which Julian
Sanchez’s Lancers had joined themselves. At a very early hour on the
28th--before 5 o’clock in the morning--the British Commander-in-Chief
issued a fresh set of orders in view of this untoward news[638]. They
are a little difficult to understand, but internal evidence seems to
show that Wellington must have received some sort of report tending
to make him think it possible that Clausel, instead of falling back
on Saragossa and joining Suchet’s army, might march across country
by the road Tauste-Exea-Un Castillo-Jaca, or the alternative road
Exea-Luna-Murillo-Jaca, in order to cross the Pyrenees by the pass of
Canfranc and join the King’s army in Bearn. Or he might march through
Saragossa in haste, and make for Jaca by the Gallego river[639].
There was a bare possibility of intercepting him by turning the whole
pursuing column eastward, and taking it into the valley of the river
Aragon, from which it would march by Sanguesa and Berdun on Jaca. The
weak point of the scheme was that there was no certainty that Clausel
would march on Jaca at all: he might stop in Aragon and combine his
operations with those of Suchet. Or even if he did start for Jaca, when
he heard that his road was intercepted by British troops, he would
naturally turn back and cast in his lot with the French Army of Aragon,
rather than with the King.

It is therefore rather surprising to find that Wellington imposed two
days of heavy marching on his left wing, on the bare possibility that
Clausel might be intercepted at or near Jaca. The orders for the 28th
June were for the cavalry at the head of the column to make the long
march Olite-Caparrosa-Caseda, by the good but circuitous road along the
valley of the Aragon, taking in charge the artillery belonging to the
infantry divisions. The latter were to cut across from the Pampeluna to
the Sanguesa roads by country tracks in the hills--the Light Division
by Olite-Beyre-Gallipienzo, the 4th Division by Tafalla-St. Martin de
Unx-Gallipienzo. The 3rd and 7th Divisions, farther behind, went from
Mendavil by Olleta to Caseda. This move concentrated 30,000 men in a
solid body on a decent road--but left a very long gap between them and
the troops blockading Pampeluna--and the gap would grow longer each
day that the marching force pushed north-eastward up the course of the
Aragon on its way to Jaca[640].

On the following day (June 29th) the column, now with the 3rd Division
at its head and the 4th Division at its tail, had moved along the river
till its head reached Sanguesa, when Wellington suddenly made up his
mind to relinquish the scheme, which (as he himself owned) had never
been a very promising one. He wrote to Castaños that Clausel, having
passed Tudela marching hard for Saragossa, had got too long a start,
and could not be caught. The plan of intercepting him at Jaca had been
given up, firstly because it would probably have failed, and secondly
because, if it had succeeded, it would only have forced Clausel to join
Suchet--which was not a thing to be desired[641]. A third reason, which
he did not cite to Castaños but reserved for Lord Bathurst’s private
eye, was that the Army was marching very badly, with many stragglers,
and many marauders. ‘The British on the 17th June were 41,547 rank
and file: on the 29th, 35,650 rank and file--diminution, 5,897.
Now the loss in the battle was 3,164--so that the diminution from
irregularities, straggling, &c., for plunder, is 2,733.’ The Portuguese
before the battle were 25,489--their present strength is 23,044. As
they lost only 1,022 in the battle, they show an extra diminution of
another 1,423 rank and file, from the same causes as the British.
‘There are only 160 men in the hospital which I established--the others
are plundering the country in different directions.’ The truth was,
that the Army was sulky--the men had not got over the effects of the
looting at Vittoria, the weather had been bad, and the hunt after
Clausel had been regarded by officers and men alike as a wild-goose
chase.

The French General gave his men three days’ rest at Saragossa (June
30-July 2) and then started to march up the Gallego river to Jaca,
where the head of his column arrived on July 6th: he then halted his
divisions for some days, stopping in a position where he could either
cross the pass of Canfranc into France, for he had no field-guns or
wheeled transport with him, to impede his passage by that steep defile,
or else return into the plains of Aragon. If Suchet should come to
Saragossa with the Army of Valencia, he could drop back to meet him.
But on the 11th arrived the news that Saragossa had been evacuated
on the preceding day, after some indecisive fighting between General
Paris’s garrison and the bands of Mina and Duran, who had beset the
city on both sides of the Ebro. All chance of a junction with Suchet
having vanished, Clausel crossed the Pyrenees next day, after leaving
a garrison in Jaca. He came down into the Val d’Aspe on the French
side, with 11,000 infantry, 500 horse, and six mountain guns packed on
mules--his sole artillery. He had lost somewhere about 1,500 men in his
long march--some broken-down stragglers, others sick left in hospital
at Tudela and Saragossa. All these fell into the hands of Mina, but the
casualties in actual fighting had been practically _nil_. By July 15th
the whole column, marching over the Pyrenean foot-hills, had reached
St. Jean-Pied-de-Port, and come into touch with the Armies of the South
and Centre, who had so long and vainly desired to see Clausel.

Meanwhile Wellington, having stopped his eastward march on June 29th,
had given his troops one day’s rest, and then drawn them back toward
Pampeluna by the road through Monreal. He was now about to take up the
pursuit of the King’s troops, which had been abandoned on the 25th
while he went off on his fruitless hunt after Clausel--an enterprise
which would have been far better left to Mina and the guerrilleros, for
there never had been much probability of its succeeding. But the new
move required several days of preparation, since four divisions had
to be brought back from the valley of the Aragon, and one more, the
6th, to come up from Lerin via Puente La Reyna. And it was necessary
to provide a considerable force for the blockade of Pampeluna. The
instructions for July 1 were that Hill was to make the first move, by
marching northward with the 2nd Division, handing over the investment
of Pampeluna to Silveira’s Portuguese and Morillo’s Spaniards[642], to
whose assistance there would come up in 24 hours the 7th Division, and
a little later the 3rd Division. Hill was to march by the Col de Velate
and Santesteban into the Bastan, from which it was intended that he
should drive out D’Erlon’s divisions.

But these operations belong to the fighting of July, and before dealing
with them it is necessary to go back to June 22nd, in order to follow
the fortunes of the other large French force, which might have been
present at the battle of Vittoria, but was not.

SECTION XXXVII: CHAPTER II

THE PURSUIT OF FOY

We left General Foy at the decisive moment when he received the
dispatch forwarded by Thouvenot from Vittoria, which informed him of
the King’s retreat beyond the Ebro, and suggested that he might come
in to join the main army, but left him the fatal choice of deciding
whether his own immediate operations were or were not of such paramount
importance that they could not be abandoned[643]. Foy decided, and many
other generals have made a similar error in all ages, that his own
job was the really important thing. The dispatch reached him on the
19th, when he had his division concentrated at Bergara, and could have
brought it to Vittoria in time for the battle. Probably the brigade
of Berlier, belonging to the Army of the North, which was under his
orders, could also have been brought in from Villafranca to Vittoria by
the 21st.

But on the very eve of the decisive engagement, and with Jourdan’s
dispatch advising him ‘de se rapprocher de Vittoria’ before his eyes,
Foy decided that the petty affairs of the Biscay garrisons were of
more importance than the fate of the King’s Army. Instead of bringing
down his own and Berlier’s troops to Vittoria, where 5,000 bayonets
would have been most welcome to the depleted Army of Portugal, he
proceeded to disperse them. He sent, on the 20th, two battalions to El
Orrio to facilitate the retreat of the garrison of Bilbao, dispatched
two others to Deba, on the coast, to guard against a rumoured British
demonstration against that port, and remained at Bergara with the
6th Léger alone. Orders were forwarded to Berlier to stand fast
at Villafranca, and to the troops expected from Bilbao to make the
best pace that they could, as the Army of Galicia would soon be upon
them[644]. Giron’s demonstration on the Balmaseda road had convinced
Foy that the Spanish 4th Army was aiming at Bilbao--he could not know
that Wellington had brought the Galicians down by Orduña to join his
main body.

On the evening of the 21st the division of Maucune, escorting the
convoy which had started from Vittoria at dawn, came through the pass
of Salinas unmolested. Its general met Foy, and told him that he had
heard heavy cannonading for many hours behind him, but had no notion
of what was going on upon the Zadorra. The column bivouacked between
Mondragon and Bergara, and started off again before daybreak. It had
not gone more than a league when fugitives began to drop in from
Vittoria, bringing news of the disaster. The King’s army had been
routed--his artillery abandoned: he had been pushed aside on to the
Pampeluna road, and Allied columns were coming up the great _chaussée_
making for Bergara and Durango. On hearing these depressing news the
commandants of the forts which guarded the passes--those of Arlaban,
Mondragon, and Salinas--spiked their guns, and fell back without orders
to join Foy at Bergara.

The news was only too true. On the night of the battle Wellington had
issued orders for Longa’s Division to set out at dawn on the 22nd to
force the passes, and, if possible, to overtake Maucune’s unwieldy
convoy. Giron was to follow, when his men, who had suffered dreadful
fatigue in their forced march from Orduña, were capable of movement.
As the Galicians were terribly under-gunned--there appear to have
been only six pieces with the 12,000 infantry--Wellington lent them
two batteries from the British artillery reserve[645]. Giron started
from the neighbourhood of Vittoria at 3 o’clock in the afternoon, and
had gone only some six miles when the news of Clausel’s raid was sent
to him by Pakenham. The whole army halted and began to retrace its
steps, with the object of joining the 6th Division and fending off
this unexpected attack. But the return march had hardly begun when the
message arrived that Clausel’s cavalry had retreated in haste, and that
there was no danger on the side of Vittoria. Giron therefore resumed
his original advance, but only reached Escoriaza, a hamlet half-way
between Salinas and Mondragon after dark[646]. His troops were worn
out, and had not received any regular rations that day.

It thus chanced that only Longa’s Division continued the advance along
the Bayonne _chaussée_ on the 22nd, and that all day the Cantabrians
were far ahead of, and quite out of touch with, the Army of Galicia.
It was with this small force alone that Foy had to deal. The French
General had been prepared for trouble by the ominous news that Maucune
had given him on the previous day, and conceived that it was his duty
to hold the passes as long as was prudent, in order to gain time for
the convoy to get on its way, and for the garrison of Bilbao to come
in from the right rear. Accordingly he was much vexed to find that the
officers commanding the Mondragon forts had evacuated them, and had
fallen back on Bergara. He resolved to hold the defile if possible,
and marched back toward it, taking with him the only two battalions of
his division which he had at hand[647], and the garrisons of the three
forts.

The fort of Mondragon was found empty--there were no enemies visible
save some local guerilleros who fled. But on advancing a little
farther, Foy came on the head of Longa’s column, descending from
the defile of Salinas. He spent the whole afternoon in a series of
rearguard actions, making his men fall back by alternate battalions,
and defending each turn of the road. The French troops behaved with
great steadiness, and Longa was cautious, having received false news
that the Bilbao garrison had joined Foy. He contented himself with
turning each successive position that the enemy took up, and at
nightfall had only got about two miles beyond Mondragon. Here he
halted, having occupied the fort (where he found six spiked guns) and
taken 53 prisoners. Foy had lost about 200 men in all in the long
bickering, and had been himself slightly wounded in the shoulder,
though he was not disabled: the Spaniards probably somewhat less[648].

During the evening hours three more battalions of Foy’s own division
arrived at Bergara, but the garrison of Bilbao and St. Pol’s Italians
had not yet been heard of. Having now 3,000 men in hand, the French
general resolved to hold Longa up, until the missing troops should have
passed behind him and got into a safe position. He waited opposite the
Cantabrians all the morning, but was not attacked: a reconnaissance
sent out reported that the enemy was quiescent at Mondragon. The fact
was that Longa had heard that the French had received reinforcements,
and was waiting for Giron to come up with the three Galician divisions.
They arrived by noon, much fatigued and drenched by heavy rain, and
Giron contented himself with making arrangements for an attack on
Bergara on the next morning.

But this attack was never delivered, for Foy having at last picked up
the missing brigades, retreated on Villareal during the afternoon,
using St. Pol’s Italians as his rearguard. He says in his dispatch that
he had deduced from Longa’s strange quiescence the idea (quite correct
in itself) that the Spaniards were refraining from pushing him, because
they were hoping that he would linger long enough at Bergara to be cut
off by some other column, coming from Salvatierra on to Tolosa far
in his rear. And Graham’s force had actually been detached for this
very purpose that afternoon--but Giron did not know it, and was really
detained only by the exhaustion of his troops. It was not till evening
that he got a dispatch from Wellington directing him to press hard
upon Foy and delay his march, because an Anglo-Portuguese force was
moving by the Puerto de San Adrian to intercept his retreat[649]. But
Foy, having guessed what plans might be brewing for his discomfiture,
had not only retreated betimes, but ordered Maucune, who was now a
day’s march in front of him with the convoy, to drop the impedimenta
and bring all his fighting force back to Villafranca, to block the
road from Salvatierra until he and his 8,000 men should have got past
the point of danger. This order Maucune executed on the morning of the
24th, turning the convoy into Tolosa, and turning back to hold the
junction of the roads, with one of his brigades in Villafranca town,
and the other thrown forward across to the river Oria to Olaverria and
Beassayn on the south bank. News had by this time come to hand that
the march of a British column from Salvatierra across the hills had
been verified, and that the peril was a real one. Wherefore Foy pressed
his retreat, and sent Maucune orders to hold on at all costs till the
column from Bergara should have passed his rear.

Now Wellington’s orders to Graham to cut in by the Puerto de San Adrian
with the 1st Division, Pack’s and Bradford’s Portuguese, and Anson’s
Light Dragoons, had been issued late on the 22nd, but had only reached
the General and the greater part of his troops on the morning of the
23rd. Of all the column only the two Light Battalions of the King’s
German Legion and Bradford’s Portuguese had turned off that night.
Consequently on the 23rd, the critical day, Graham and the bulk of his
command were toiling up the pass in heavy rain, and had not crossed
the watershed, only Bradford and the two German battalions having
reached the village of Segura. It was not till dawn on the 24th that
Anson’s cavalry and Pack’s Portuguese got to the front; the rest of
the infantry was still far off. Graham then advanced on Villafranca,
and soon came into collision with Maucune, who was already in position
covering the cross-roads. The head of Foy’s column, coming in from the
West, was clearly visible on the other side of the Oria in the act of
passing behind the screen formed by Maucune’s covering force. He had
started from Villareal before dawn, and got clear away before Longa and
Giron were on the move, or able to delay him.

Graham attacked at once, in the hope of driving in Maucune before
Foy could get past. Bradford’s Portuguese, endeavouring to turn the
French flank, pushed to the right; Halkett’s Germans, supported by the
grenadier and light companies of Pack’s brigade, made for Beassayn on
the left wing. Bradford’s leading unit, the 5th Caçadores, attacking
recklessly on unexplored ground, was thrown back at its first assault;
but the Brigadier, extending other battalions farther to his right,
ended by taking the village of Olaverria and pushing his immediate
opponents across the river. The German light battalions carried
Beassayn at their first rush. But Maucune, retiring to a new position
on high ground immediately above Villafranca, continued his resistance,
trying to gain time at all risks. In this he was successful: Foy,
hurrying past his rear, got well forward on the Tolosa road with his
two leading brigades--the other two he dropped behind the town, to
support Maucune or relieve him when he should be driven in.

Owing to the early hour--three in the morning--at which Foy had started
on his retreat from Villareal, the bulk of Giron’s army was never able
to catch him up. Only Longa’s Cantabrians, leading the advance as
usual, came into contact with his rear brigade--St. Pol’s Italians--at
the defile of La Descarga west of Villafranca. Failing to force a
passage by a frontal attack, Longa turned the position; but the delay
permitted St. Pol to get off with small loss and to catch up the rest
of Foy’s column.

By three in the afternoon Graham was beginning to outflank Maucune’s
line about Villafranca, with Bradford’s brigade on his right and
Pack’s on his left, while Longa had come in sight upon the _chaussée_.
Thereupon the French General, having held his ground for the necessary
space of time, made a prompt retreat along the Tolosa road, pursued but
not much harmed by the Portuguese.

This ended a rather unsatisfactory day--the French had lost more men
than the Allies[650], but the trap to catch them had failed completely.
It is clear that if Graham’s column could have crossed the Puerto de
San Adrian twelve hours earlier, or if Giron had pressed Foy hard and
delayed his movements either on the 23rd or on the 24th, the scheme
would have worked. Bad staff work was apparently responsible in some
measure for both of these failures, though the extreme inclemency of
the weather was a secondary cause. Foy’s conduct of the operations on
the 22nd-23rd appears a little rash--he might have been caught but for
his good luck. But till he had picked up the troops from Bilbao, at
noon on the 23rd, he was constrained to wait at Bergara; and after he
had once received them he marched hard, and so escaped, thanks to his
wise precaution in sending Maucune to Villafranca.

After the combat of the morning Graham moved forward a few miles as
far as Ichasondo and neighbouring villages on the Tolosa road, while
Giron came up in the evening, and billeted his army in Villafranca,
Beassayn, and other places on the Oria. As the missing brigades of
the 1st Division appeared that night, there were now some 10,000
Anglo-Portuguese[651] and 16,000 Spaniards[652] massed along the
_chaussée_; Foy, having picked up the garrisons of Tolosa and some
smaller places, and having been joined by a stray brigade from the Army
of the North, had also as many as 16,000 men in hand[653], so that the
opposing forces on both sides had swollen to a considerable strength.

Graham having failed (through no fault of his own) to intercept the
enemy’s retreat at Villafranca, and regarding extreme haste as no
longer necessary, since the scheme had miscarried, set himself to
carry out Wellington’s orders to drive back the enemy to the Bidassoa
without any great hurry. He was much hampered by the fact that Giron’s
army had outmarched its train, and was therefore suffering for want of
supplies, which could not be procured in the mountains of Guipuzcoa.
On the 25th he brought the whole of the allied forces up to Alegria,
half-way to Tolosa, driving out Maucune’s division, which Foy had left
there as a rearguard. It was then discovered that the enemy had taken
up a long and extensive position on each side of Tolosa, and showed no
disposition to give ground. It was clear that he must be driven off by
force.

Foy, as he explains in his dispatch of June 28th[654], had resolved
to make a stand at the junction of roads in Tolosa, because he was
obsessed by a theory (less accurate than that which he had formed as to
Graham’s march two days before) to the effect that King Joseph might
have dispatched part or the whole of his army, by the road which leads
from Yrurzun on the Araquil to Tolosa across the mountains, in order to
transfer it to the lower Bidassoa and the Bayonne road. He was still
ignorant of the full effects of the battle of Vittoria, and having
heard cannonading far to the south-west on the 23rd[655] had jumped to
the conclusion that the main army might be moving up to join him at
Tolosa. As a matter of fact King Joseph _had_ turned a detachment off
the Pampeluna road at Yrurzun--Reille’s two divisions--but they had
been sent not by the more westerly road to Tolosa, but by the Col de
Velate route to Santesteban, on which they travelled fast because they
had no guns or transport.

But to cover the imaginary movement Foy disposed his troops in front
of the junction of roads. Tolosa town lies in a narrow defile, through
which pass the Oria river and the great _chaussée_. It had been
prepared long before for serious defence, as it was one of the chief
halting-places on the great road from Bayonne to Madrid. The old walls
had been strengthened with blockhouses, the gates were palisaded
outside and had guns mounted by them. The town blocks the defile
completely, but is commanded by steep hills on either side.

Foy sent on the great convoy which Maucune had escorted, under charge
of four battalions commanded by General Berlier. The rest of his troops
he disposed for defence. De Conchy’s brigade held the fortified town.
On the south-east Bonté’s brigade and St. Pol’s Italians were placed
on the heights above the Lizarza torrent, a forward position in which
they protected the Pampeluna road. The second brigade of Foy’s own
division was placed on the hill of Jagoz, on the same flank but nearer
the town. On the other or western bank of the Oria Rouget’s brigade
(the troops from Bilbao) were on commanding ground, flanking the town
and blocking two mountain paths which came down on to it from Azpeytia
in the valley of the Uroli. Maucune’s division was in reserve behind
Tolosa, massed on the _chaussée_. As Foy very truly observes in his
dispatch, the position was strong against frontal attack, and could
only be turned by very wide détours by any troops arriving from the
south.

This was as evident to Graham as to Foy, and the British General
prepared for a long day’s work. His intention was to outflank the
position, even though it should take many hours. In the centre the
bulk of the 1st Division, followed by Pack’s Portuguese and Giron’s
Galicians, advanced up the _chaussée_ on the left bank of the river
Oria, and halted a considerable distance from Tolosa. But Longa’s
Cantabrians and Porlier’s small Asturian division were sent off to make
a very circuitous march over the mountains on the right by Alzo and
Gastolu with the object of cutting into the Pampeluna road many miles
east of Tolosa, and then taking the town in the rear. A less wide curve
was made by a column consisting of Bradford’s Portuguese brigade, with
the three Line-battalions of the King’s German Legion in support, who
were also to operate to the east of the _chaussée_ and of the river
Oria, and were directed to cross the Lizarza ravine and carry the hill
behind it, from whence they were to push forward to the Pampeluna road
and then turn inwards against the town. A smaller column, consisting
of one battalion of Pack’s brigade and the light companies of Giron’s
3rd Division, was to make a corresponding movement to the west, and to
endeavour to get on to the hill dominating Tolosa on that side. Nor
was this all: information came to hand that Mendizabal had brought to
Aspeytia what remained of the Biscayan irregulars whom Foy had routed
and dispersed a month back[656]. Graham wrote to beg him to demonstrate
with these bands against the Bayonne _chaussée_ north of Tolosa, and
to get on to that road if possible and block it.

The main column halted while the flanking operations were pursuing
their slow course. The only fighting which took place in the morning
was an attack by Bradford’s brigade on the heights occupied by Bonté,
opposite Aleon and beyond the Lizarza torrent. The French Brigadier
had neglected to guard the passages of the ravine, and allowed the
Portuguese to get on to the ridge of his position without much
difficulty[657]. He then counter-attacked them, first with his own
brigade, then with St. Pol’s Italians also, but was unable to cast them
down from the hill: nor could Bradford get forward. All the hours of
the early afternoon were spent in an indecisive _tiraillade_ on this
front. It is curious to note that both the commanders-in-chief write in
sharp criticism of their subordinates: Foy says that Bonté was careless
and disobeyed orders; Graham that Bradford’s men, after a good start,
fought in a confused and disorderly fashion[658]. On the other flank
the Spanish-Portuguese detachment, sent to try to gain a footing on the
hills to the west of Tolosa, reported that they had come up against an
absolute precipice, and could do nothing.

So matters wore on till about six o’clock in the afternoon, when
distant firing in the rear of the French position announced that both
Longa on the right and Mendizabal on the left were in touch with
the enemy. Graham then ordered a general attack, the three German
Line-battalions, hitherto in reserve behind Bradford, being ordered
to strike at the Pampeluna road; meanwhile the main column, which
had so long waited opposite Tolosa, deployed the two light German
battalions in its front, with the Guards Brigade and Giron’s 3rd
Division supporting, and advanced against the south face of the town.
The detachment to the extreme left, which had failed to get up the
precipices in its front, was directed to turn inward to attack the west
side of Tolosa.

These orders brought on very heavy fighting, for Foy had held his
forward positions so long that he had great difficulty in withdrawing
his troops from them, when he found that he was outflanked, and
even attacked in the rear. At the south end of the field, along the
_chaussée_, the allied attack failed entirely, the strength of the
fortifications of the town having been under-estimated. When the
leading battalion (1st Light Battalion K.G.L.) approached the gate,
it came into a cross-fire from the blockhouses, and still heavier
frontal musketry from the well-lined ramparts, which proved wholly
inaccessible. Scaling ladders would have been required to mount them.
The line broke, but the men did not retire, but threw themselves down
behind walls and in ditches and tried to answer the fire from such
cover as they could find. Many took refuge in the courtyard of a
convent not far outside the Vittoria gate, from which their colonel,
Ompteda, led out a second assault, which melted away under the fire
as the first had done. In truth, the attempt was a misjudged one
on Graham’s part--possibly his bad eyesight had failed to note the
strength of the defences. The 1st Light Battalion lost five officers
and 58 men killed and wounded in a quarter of an hour[659], and had to
keep under shelter as best it could; the supporting troops were halted
and ordered to lie down, while guns were brought up from the rear to
batter the gate. This should obviously have been done before, and not
after, the assault. The check was unnecessary, as was shown a little
later when the artillery smashed the gate by a few shots, and cleared
the neighbouring walls.

Meanwhile there had been fierce fighting on the eastern side
of the town, where Bradford’s Portuguese, and the three German
line-battalions, with Longa’s men on their northern flank, had fallen
upon the three French brigades lying outside the town. Bonté’s and St.
Pol’s battalions, still frontally engaged against Bradford, suddenly
realized the danger of their position, when the Germans attacked their
left flank, and Longa appeared almost in their rear. They retreated
in haste towards Tolosa, and got jammed outside the Pampeluna gate,
which had been blocked for defence and could not readily be entered.
To avoid being crushed against the walls, they massed themselves for
a counter-stroke, and thrusting back the Germans for a moment, raced
along the river-bank, past the foot of the ramparts, till they got
under the cover of Foy’s second brigade on the hill of Jagoz, and
escaped beyond the north end of the town. The Germans, though in
great disorder, made an attack on the Pampeluna gate, which failed
for the same reason that had wrecked that on the Vittoria gate--the
impossibility of escalading a well-defended rampart.

Meanwhile there was heavy skirmishing going on to the north-west of
Tolosa: Mendizabal’s bands had appeared on the mountain road from
Aspeytia, and had engaged Rouget’s brigade, which was covering Foy’s
right flank. The French general’s dispatch confesses that the troops
from the Bilbao garrison, which included some conscript battalions
from the Bayonne reserve, behaved badly, lost ground, and had to be
rallied by their general’s personal exertions. They were apparently
thrown into a panic by an attack delivered on their flank, by the small
Spanish-Portuguese detachment which Graham had sent out on his left: it
had worked up by the narrow space between the walls of Tolosa and the
precipice above, and came up very opportunely to aid Mendizabal. Rouget
held on till dark, but with difficulty, and the knowledge that his
route of retreat was threatened added to Foy’s anxiety, for Longa was
also pushing behind the town on the other side. Accordingly he ordered
Deconchy’s brigade to evacuate Tolosa at once, just as the sun was
setting, and prepared for a general retreat.

If the order had been given half an hour later, the garrison of Tolosa
would probably have been captured whole, for Graham’s guns had just
blown the defences of the Vittoria gate to pieces, and the German
light battalions burst in with ease at the point where they had been
checked before. There was some confused fighting in the streets, but
the French got off with no great loss under cover of the darkness, and
fell in with the rear of their main column, which went off down the
_chaussée_ at great speed. Mendizabal made some prisoners from Rouget’s
brigade, as it fell back to join the rest across the slopes, and Longa
caught some fugitives on the other flank[660].

Foy says that he lost some 400 men in the fight, which would seem a
low estimate, as the Allies could show 200 prisoners, and Bonté’s
and Rouget’s brigades had been very roughly handled. Graham reports
58 killed, 316 wounded, and 45 missing--the last all from Bradford’s
brigade. Of the Spaniards Longa and Mendizabal only were engaged:
Giron’s report (as so often occurs with Spanish documents) gives no
figures, only remarking that some of Longa’s 1st battalion of Iberia
‘perished by reason of their rash courage, but had a great share in
deciding the day’--presumably by pushing far ahead in the turning
movement which caused Foy to order a general retreat. If we allow 200
Spanish killed and wounded, we shall probably not be far out of our
reckoning. Had Graham withheld his unlucky assault on the Vittoria gate
till it had been well battered, and trusted entirely to his turning
movements, he would have got off with a much smaller casualty list. His
original design of manœuvring Foy out of Tolosa was the right game,
considering the strength of the position. The French general could
plead in defence of his risky tactics that he had held up a superior
force for a whole day--but at that particular moment time did not
happen to matter--as Graham’s leisurely pursuit on the subsequent days
sufficiently shows. He was only set on getting Foy across the Bidassoa;
and nothing in the general course of the campaign depended on whether
he did so a day sooner or a day later. On the other hand, by standing
too long at Tolosa Foy nearly lost three brigades, and might indeed
have lost his whole force.

The remainder of this side-campaign displays none of the interest
of its four first days. Foy retired to Andoain on the night of the
combat of Tolosa, where he was joined by the battalions of the
40th and 101st under General Berlier, which had escorted Maucune’s
convoy to the frontier, and by the 62nd and a Spanish ‘Juramentado’
regiment withdrawn from Biscay garrisons. This, despite of his recent
losses, gave him a force of 16,000 infantry, 400 sabres, and 10 guns.
Graham did not press him, his troops being much fatigued: only the
indefatigable Longa appeared with his Cantabrians in front of the
position. On the 27th the whole French force retired unmolested to
Hernani.

It was of course all-important to Foy to know what were the situation
and intentions of the King. Nothing could be heard of the main army at
Andoain or Hernani, so he detached Berlier’s brigade to seek for news
in the Bastan, along the upper Bidassoa. On the 28th Berlier discovered
Reille and two divisions of the Army of Portugal at Vera. They were in
bad order, without guns and much under strength, though stragglers were
rejoining in considerable numbers. Reille had been as ignorant of Foy’s
whereabouts as Foy had been of that of the main army. He was rejoiced
to hear that all the Biscay garrisons had been saved, and that there
was a solid force ready to co-operate with him in the defence of the
line of the Bidassoa. His own troops were not yet fit for fighting.
Accordingly he sent Foy orders to evacuate Hernani and come back to
the frontier, though he need not actually cross the Bidassoa unless
he were compelled to do so. By stopping at Oyarzun he could keep up
communication with St. Sebastian, which must be needing attention.

The condition of that fortress, indeed, had already been troubling the
mind of Foy on his last day of independent command. It lay so near the
French border, and had been for years so far from any enemy--Guipuzcoan
guerrilleros excepted--that it had been much neglected. When General
Rey, named as Governor by King Joseph two days before the battle of
Vittoria, arrived with orders to put it in a state of defence, he
found it garrisoned only by 500 gendarmes, a battalion of recruits on
the way to join the 120th Line, and two weak companies of pioneers
and sappers--1,200 men in all. The stores of food were low, the
glacis was cumbered with huts and sheds, there was no provision of
gabions, fascines, or timber. Moreover, the town was full of Spanish
and French fugitives who had preceded the King on his retreat--there
were (it is said) as many as 7,000 of them, lingering in Spain till
the last moment, in the hope that Wellington might be stopped on the
Ebro. The news of Vittoria arrived on the 23rd, and caused hopeless
consternation--the place was not ready to stand a siege--the garrison
so small that it could not even spare a battalion to escort the
tiresome mass of refugees to Bayonne. Rey began in feverish haste to
clear the glacis, palisade the outworks, and rearrange the cannons
on the walls, but he had too few hands for work, and was in a state
resembling despair when on the 28th Foy turned up for a flying visit,
saw and acknowledged the nakedness of the land, and promised to do all
that he could to help--though it was less than the Governor required.
He took away the old garrison--the recruits were not too trustworthy,
the gendarmes not siege troops: to replace them he threw in the whole
of Deconchy’s brigade--four battalions, about 2,000 infantry--and all
the gunners that he could spare. As the garrison of Guetaria, 450
strong, escaped by sea to San Sebastian two days later, and a number
of stragglers dropped into the place before the siege began, the gross
total of the garrison was raised to some 3,000 men. Rey asked for
4,000, but Foy would not grant him another battalion--and was justified
by the course of the siege, for the place was very small and, if it
could be held at all, was defensible by the lesser number. The only
doubt was whether there would be time to get it in order before the
Allies appeared[661]. But perhaps the best service that Foy did for Rey
was that he removed, at two hours’ notice, the whole mass of refugees.
They marched, much lamenting, for Bayonne, under the escort of the old
outgoing garrison. On the 29th Reille ordered Foy to evacuate Oyarzun
and fall back to the Bidassoa, and before he had been gone three hours
Mendizabal’s Guipuzcoan irregulars, 3,000 strong, appeared in front
of the fortress and cut its communication with France. They were an
unorganized band, without artillery, but effective enough for stopping
the highway.

Graham, seeing that the French had escaped him, and had a clear retreat
to the frontier, had made no serious attempt to press them. He was
quite content that they should go at their own pace, and was determined
not to harass the 1st Division, who, as he wrote to Wellington, were in
a state of great exhaustion. To have hurried Foy out of Spain two days
earlier would have cost men, and would have had no beneficial effect
on the general course of the campaign; for Wellington and the main
army were far away in Navarre, and if Graham had reached the Bidassoa
on the 26th or 28th, with his own and Giron’s 25,000 men, they could
have done nothing, since they had in front of them the fortress of
Bayonne, with Foy’s 16,000 men, the 7,000 whom Reille had brought up
from Santesteban, and the remains of the general reserve--for though
Rouget’s battalions and other detachments had been lent from Bayonne
already, there were still a few thousand men in hand. In all, Reille
would have had an army as large as Graham’s own, and though some of
it was rather demoralized, the fortress, and the strong positions in
front of it along the Bidassoa, Nive, and Nivelle, counterbalanced
this disadvantage. If Wellington had chosen to march on Bayonne with
his main body, the day after Vittoria, the problem would have been a
very different one. But since he had preferred to move in pursuit first
of King Joseph and then of Clausel, there was nothing more which the
commander of a detached corps like that of Graham could accomplish.
He did all that his chief required of him, when he pushed Foy out of
Spain and laid siege to St. Sebastian. That the project for cutting off
the French detachments at Villafranca came to nothing was no fault of
Graham’s--being due partly to bad staff-work at Head-Quarters, partly
to the chances of rough weather, and partly to Foy’s laudable caution
and celerity.

The side-show in Guipuzcoa came to a tame end twenty-four hours after
the blockade of St. Sebastian had been formed. On the 30th Reille
ordered all the troops on the south bank of the lower Bidassoa to
retire into France. Foy’s and Maucune’s divisions crossed the bridge
of Behobie, under the protection of four battalions of the Bayonne
reserve, which remained on the heights by the hermitage of St. Marcial,
and marched to Urogne and other villages down-stream. Lamartinière’s
division remained at Vera, Fririon’s (late Sarrut’s) at Hendaye.

Late on the same afternoon the advance-guard of Graham’s army came
in sight of the Bidassoa--it consisted as usual of Longa’s untiring
Cantabrians only, the 1st Division and the Portuguese having been
halted near St. Sebastian, the bulk of the Galicians at Hernani and
Renteria. Longa, keeping to the coast, surprised and captured the
French garrison of Passages (150 men), which was too late in obeying
Reille’s order to retreat on France while the bridge of Behobie was
still available. He then came in contact with the covering force on
the heights of San Marcial[662], which was at the same time menaced by
Castañon with a brigade of the 4th Galician Division, who had come up
the high road from Renteria.

The French brigadier evacuated the position at once. Reille had told
him that he was only placed there to protect the retreat of Foy. He
crossed the Bidassoa, leaving only a detachment of sixty men in the
_tête de pont_ which covered the south or Spanish end of the bridge of
Behobie; it consisted of a stone blockhouse surrounded with palisades.
The further or French end of the long bridge was blocked by the
fortified village of Hendaye.

Next morning Graham resolved that the _tête de pont_ must be taken
or destroyed, so that the enemy should have no open road by which he
might return to Spain. While some Spanish infantry exchanged a vague
fusillade across the river with the French in Hendaye, ten guns[663]
were turned on the blockhouse. The garrison tried to blow it up and to
retreat, but their mine failed, their commanding-officer was killed,
and they were about to surrender when Foy sent two fresh companies
over the bridge to bring them off. This was done, at the cost of four
officers and 64 men, killed and wounded while crossing the much-exposed
bridge. Foy then ordered the structure to be set on fire; and as its
floor was composed of wood this was easily done: the four arches
nearest France were burnt out by the following morning (July 1).

This evacuation, without any attempt at defence, of the bridgehead
on the Bidassoa angered the Minister of War at Paris, and still
more Napoleon, when the news reached him at Wittenberg nine days
later. Foy and Reille had men enough to have held the heights of San
Marcial, against anything short of an attack by the whole of Graham’s
and Giron’s infantry. And it is certain that Graham would not have
delivered any such assault, but would have halted in front of them,
and waited for orders from Wellington. The Emperor, who--as we shall
presently see--was set on a counter-offensive from the moment when the
news of Vittoria reached him, was wild with wrath at the abandonment of
the foothold in Spain. ‘It was insane,’ he wrote to Clarke, ‘to recross
the Bidassoa: they all show themselves as timid as women[664].’

But whether it would have been possible for the French to hold the
Irun-Behobie-San Marcial _tête de pont_, when Wellington had come up
in person from the south, is another matter. Probably he would have
decided that the enemy must be thrust back across the Bidassoa, before
he dared to sit down to beleaguer San Sebastian. And undoubtedly he
had men enough to carry out that operation. But this was no excuse for
Reille’s evacuation of the position, one of the highest strategical
value, before he was compelled to do so by force. The fact was that
Reille, like most of the other French generals, was demoralized at the
moment by the recent disaster of Vittoria, and had lost confidence both
in himself and in his troops.

SECTION XXXVII: CHAPTER III

THE EAST COAST. MURRAY AT TARRAGONA

[N.B.--FOR MAP OF CATALONIA AND PLAN OF TARRAGONA SEE VOL. IV, PP. 538
AND 524]

There are certain episodes of the Peninsular War which the British
historian has to narrate with a feeling of some humiliation, but
which have to be set forth in full detail, if only for the purpose of
illustrating the manifold difficulties with which Wellington had to
cope. Of these by far the most distressing is the story of General Sir
John Murray at Tarragona.

It will be remembered that a diversion on the East Coast formed an
essential part of Wellington’s great scheme for the expulsion of the
French from Spain, and that he had devoted much care to instructing
Murray in the manner in which it was to be carried out. If sufficient
shipping to embark 10,000 men could be procured at Alicante, the bulk
of the Anglo-Sicilian army was to be transported to Catalonia, and to
strike at Tarragona, getting what aid it could from the local Spanish
forces under the Captain-General Copons. If, as was to be expected,
Suchet should fly northward from Valencia with all his available
field-army, to rescue Tarragona, the two Spanish units in the kingdom
of Murcia, Elio’s and Del Parque’s armies, were to take the offensive
against the detachments which the French Marshal would have to leave
behind him to hold down his southern conquests. Murray might fail in
Catalonia, if Suchet were rapid and lucky in his combinations; but in
that case Elio and Del Parque ought to get possession of the city of
Valencia and all its fertile plainland. Or, on the other hand, Suchet
might be loth to abandon his advanced position, might hold it in force,
and might order Decaen and the Army of Catalonia to make head against
the Anglo-Sicilian expeditionary force. If this should happen, the
Spanish generals might be held in check, but Murray would have a free
hand at Tarragona. With the aid of Copons he ought to be able to take
the place, and to throw all the French occupation of Catalonia into
disorder. In the end, Suchet would have to evacuate Valencia, in order
to save Decaen and the Catalan garrisons. At the worst the expedition
of the Anglo-Sicilian army ought at least to have the effect of giving
Suchet so much to think about, that he would have no attention to spare
for the perils of King Joseph and the fate of Castile.

This last minimum result was all that was achieved. Suchet, it is true,
had an anxious time during the critical days of Wellington’s march
to Vittoria, and sent no help to the King. But neither was Tarragona
taken by the Anglo-Sicilians, nor Valencia by the armies of Elio and
Del Parque. Both of those forces endured humiliating checks, from an
enemy over whom they had every strategical advantage. And the story
of Murray’s operations about Tarragona is not the story of an honest
and excusable failure, but one which provokes bitter irritation over
the doings of a British general who showed himself not only timid and
incompetent, but shifty, mendacious, and treacherous to his allies.
There is nothing in the whole history of the Peninsular War which
produces such an unpleasant impression as the facts revealed by the
minutes of Murray’s court-martial, supplemented by certain documents
which ought to have been forthcoming at that trial, but unfortunately
were not.

But to proceed to the details of this unhappy campaign. In obedience
to Wellington’s orders, Murray began to draw his army in to Alicante
between the 25th and 27th of May, the forward positions which the
Anglo-Sicilians had held being handed over to Elio’s troops, while
those of Del Parque, who had at last been brought up from the borders
of Andalusia, took post on Elio’s left, about Yecla and Chinchilla.
Both these armies were to move forward, as soon as Suchet should be
detected in the act of detaching divisions northward to deal with
Murray’s oncoming invasion. The appearance of the Spaniards on ground
hitherto held by British outposts gave the Marshal warning that some
new plan was developing. A raid by sea was an obvious possibility, but
he could not tell whether it might not be directed on a point as far
south as Valencia or as far north as Rosas. Till Murray showed his
hand only precautionary movements could be made. Suchet was at this
moment stronger than he had been at the time of the battle of Castalla.
Warned of his danger by the results of that fight, he had strengthened
his troops on the littoral at the expense of the garrisons inland.
Severoli’s Italian division had been ordered down from Saragossa to
Valencia[665]. This heavy draft on the northern section of his army was
rendered possible by the fact that Clausel had come far forward into
Aragon in pursuit of Mina, so that Saragossa and its region could be
held with smaller numbers than usual. The Spanish irregular forces in
this direction had full occupation found for them, by the raid of the
Army of Portugal into their sphere of operations. And this suited well
with Wellington’s general plan--the more that French troops were drawn
down to the Mediterranean, the less would there be of them available
for service in Castile, when his own blow came to be delivered.

Murray had at his disposal in the harbour of Alicante transports
sufficient to carry much more than the force of 10,000 men, which
Wellington had named as the minimum with which a raid on Catalonia
might be attempted. He was able to embark the whole of his own army,
with the exception of the regiment of Sicilian cavalry (he was short of
horse-transports), and in addition nearly the whole of Whittingham’s
Spaniards--all indeed save one battalion[666] and the attached
squadrons. This made up a force of 14,000 infantry, 800 cavalry, and
800 artillery, with 24 field-guns and the battering train which had
been sent round from Portugal. The British contingent was a little
stronger than at the time of the battle of Castalla, for if one
battalion of the King’s German Legion had been sent back to Sicily
since that fight, Wellington had permitted Murray to draw in the
2/67th, long in garrison at Cartagena, and had sent him a Portuguese
and a British company of artillery to man his battering train[667].
Moreover, two squadrons of Brunswick Hussars had arrived direct from
England.

The whole force, having been swiftly embarked at Alicante, sailed on
May 31st; and being favoured with a strong south-west wind came in
sight of the high-lying Tarragona on June 2nd. The fleet of transports
ran into the bay sheltered by Cape Salou, eight miles south of its
goal. There would have been no object in risking a more difficult
disembarkation on the long open beaches at the mouth of the Francoli
river, closer to Tarragona. Before landing his main body Murray shipped
off two battalions (2/67th and De Roll-Dillon) under Colonel Prevost,
to seize the defile of the Col de Balaguer, the point twenty miles to
the south of Tarragona where the coast-road from Tortosa curves round
a steep headland between a precipice and the sea. There was a small
French fort, San Felipe de Balaguer, blocking the Col, and Prevost was
ordered to take it if he could. But its fall was not an absolutely
essential condition to the success of the siege, for the road could be
cut, blasted away, or blocked with entrenchments north of the fort, at
several points where a thousand men could stop a whole army corps. It
was desirable to take this precaution, because the Col de Balaguer road
was the only route by which succours coming from Valencia could reach
the plain of Tarragona, without taking an immense détour inland, by
paths impracticable for artillery.

On hearing of the arrival of the British fleet off Cape Salou, General
Copons, Captain-General of Catalonia, rode down from his head-quarters
at Reus, ten miles away, to report to Murray that he had received
Wellington’s instructions, and had done his best to carry them out. The
Spanish Army of Catalonia consisted of no more than 15,000 men, even
after it had received the two battalions which Wellington had sent to
it by sea during the winter[668]. Over 5,500 of them were locked up
in garrisons in the interior; many of these were untrained recruits,
and none were available for the field. Of the remainder, Copons had
brought down twelve battalions to the neighbourhood of Tarragona,
leaving only two under his second-in-command, Eroles, to watch the
French garrisons in the north[669]. He had also with him his handful
of cavalry--370 sabres; field-guns the army had none. Altogether there
were 7,000 men ready to join Murray at once: 1,500 more might be
brought in, if the French of the northern garrisons should move down
to join General Decaen at Barcelona. Copons had certainly done all
that was in his power to aid Wellington’s scheme. Murray asked him to
lend two battalions to join the brigade that was to strike at Fort San
Felipe and to block the Col de Balaguer, and to arrange the rest so as
to cover at a distance the disembarkation of the Anglo-Sicilian army.
Copons consented, and on the next morning the whole force came ashore,
Prevost’s brigade in a creek near the Col de Balaguer, where it found
the two Spanish battalions already arrived, the rest of the army at
Salou Bay. The expeditionary force was little cumbered with transport,
and had but a small allowance of horses and mules: the infantry and
some of the field-guns with the greater part of the cavalry were ashore
by the early afternoon, and marched that same night on Tarragona,
which was invested from sea to sea, Mackenzie and Adam taking up their
position by the mouth of the Francoli, Clinton occupying the Olivo
heights, and Whittingham extending down to the shore east of the city.
The French garrison kept quiet--being of no strength sufficient to
justify the showing of a man outside the walls.

General Bertoletti had with him two battalions, one French and one
Italian[670], a company of Juramentados, two companies of artillery,
and the armed crews of three small vessels which were blockaded in the
port--they were turned on to act as auxiliary gunners. The whole did
not exceed 1,600 men. This was an entirely inadequate force, and the
defences were in an unsatisfactory condition. After Suchet had captured
the city in 1811, he had no intention of leaving locked up behind him
a garrison of the size required for such a large fortress. The outer
enceinte had been left in the condition of ruin consequent on the
siege[671], and only the Upper City on its high cliff was occupied.
Its western front, where the breaches had been, was repaired; but the
Lower City and its fortifications remained practically untouched. All
that had been done was to patch up two isolated strong-points, the
so-called Fort Royal and Bastion of St. Carlos. These had been cut off
from the mass of the ruins, and closed in at the rear: each was armed
with one gun. The object of this was merely to prevent British ships
from entering Tarragona roadstead and mooring there. These two outlying
posts, dangerously remote from the city above, were held by no more
than a company each. Bertoletti thought for a moment of abandoning
them, since he dared not detach reinforcements from his inadequate
garrison, and his communication with the forts was across half a
mile of exposed ground: nothing was more likely than that the enemy
would slip detachments among the ruined houses and walls of the Lower
City, and dig himself in between the Upper City and the weak outlying
posts, which must inevitably fall. But reflecting on the advantage of
keeping the harbour unusable, he resolved to hold on to them till the
last minute. And his policy turned out to be justified, for had they
been evacuated, even the torpid and timorous Murray could hardly have
avoided the temptation of closing in on the Upper City, which was in
no condition to hold out for the space of nine days during which the
Anglo-Sicilian army lay in front of it.

From the first moment of his landing Murray seems to have been obsessed
with the idea that every disposable French soldier in Catalonia
and Valencia would be on his back within a very few days. As his
evidence during his court martial shows, he had a notion that Suchet
would practically evacuate Valencia, and march against him with
three-quarters of his available men, while at the same time Decaen
would abandon all Catalonia save the largest towns and bring an even
greater force to Tarragona from the north. He had made elaborate,
and in part correct, calculations as to the gross force of the two
French armies, by which he made out that the enemy might conceivably
concentrate 25,000 men against him. For the fact that such a force
would have to be scraped together from very remote points, between
which communication must be very difficult, he made insufficient
allowance. Still less did he calculate out the handicap on the enemy
caused by the fact that Suchet and Decaen were out of touch with each
other, and would obviously look upon the problem presented to them from
different points of view,--all the former’s action being influenced
by his wish to hold on to Valencia, all the latter’s by his anxiety
not to have his communication with France cut off. Murray assumed that
all roads marked on his map would be practicable to the enemy, that
Suchet’s information would always be correct, that his troops would
march every day the possible maximum, and that they would have no
difficulties concerned with food, water, or weather. Every conceivable
hazard of war was to fall luckily for the enemy, unluckily for himself.
At his trial in 1814 he explained that he was never sanguine of
success, and that he did not expect when he sailed that he could take
Tarragona[672]. He chose to regard himself as the blind and unwilling
instrument of Wellington’s orders, which he would carry out, so far as
he could, with an expectation that they would lead to failure. And he
observed that the dominating motive which influenced all his doings
was that Wellington had written that ‘he would forgive everything
excepting that the corps should be beaten or dispersed’[673]. Deducing
from this phrase the general policy that he must pursue, Murray came to
the conclusion ‘the first principle is the army’s safety’. He started
intending to subordinate all chances of success to the remotest risk
of defeat. His mind obsessed with this miserable prepossession, he
was, in fact, defeated before he had ever set sail. Yet he hid his
resolve from his generals, even from the senior officer, Clinton, who
would have succeeded to the command if he had fallen sick or received a
chance bullet. They all complained that he never gave them any hint of
what were his intentions, or showed them Wellington’s orders which it
was his duty to carry out. ‘We were totally uninformed,’ said Clinton
at the court martial, ‘of the instructions which the Commander of the
forces might have for his guidance[674]. The first that we knew of
these instructions of the Commander of the forces, and then partially
only, was when he produced them at a Council of War on June 17th,’
after the siege of Tarragona was over. Clinton, Mackenzie, and Adam,
the three commanders of units, were all very confident in their men:
‘they were in the highest state of discipline and equipment[675],’
said Mackenzie, and spoiling for a fight. Hence their entire amazement
as they discovered that Murray was intending to avoid all offensive
operations: it even led to an infraction of discipline, when Mackenzie,
Adam, and General Donkin[676] called together on their commander to
urge on him a more active policy[677], and were chased out of the
room with the words ‘it will not do’--a decision which, as Mackenzie
remarked, ‘was unanswerable’. For any further urging of the point would
have amounted to military disobedience. From the moment when the army
landed at Cape Salou on June 3rd, down to the day of its ignominious
flight on June 12th, Murray was thinking of nothing but horrible
possibilities--he was what the French call a _catastrophard_.

Probably his most disastrous resolve of all was that which he came to
when first he surveyed Tarragona, on the evening of his disembarkation.
Though he noted the half-ruinous condition of the two outworks,
on which the enemy was working to the last moment, their isolated
position, and the fact that they were surrounded by all sorts of
cover easily to be seized, he resolved to lay formal siege to them,
as if they were the solid front of a regular line of defence. As
Napier remarks with perfect good sense, they should have been dealt
with as Wellington dealt with the Redoute Renaud at Rodrigo, or Hill
with the forts of Almaraz, which were far more formidable works than
the Fuerte Real or San Carlos[678]. They should have been taken by
force, escaladed, on the night of the formation of the blockade.
And being incomplete, ill-flanked, and without palisades or ditch,
and under-manned, they undoubtedly could have been rushed. But
Murray, instead of trying to gain time for the prompt attack on the
main fortress and its badly-stopped breaches, proceeded to lay out
approaches and commence batteries on the low ground by the mouth of
the Francoli river, with the object of reducing the two outworks by
regular operations. On June 4th one battery was commenced near the sea,
600 yards from San Carlos, another farther inland, 900 yards from the
Fuerte Real. Their construction was covered by a naval bombardment:
Admiral Hallowell moved into the roadstead a brig, three bomb-vessels,
and two gunboats, which shelled the Upper City freely, in order to
distract the attention of the garrison from the work on the batteries
by the Francoli. The fire was kept up from dusk till dawn on the
4th-5th, and repeated on the 6th-7th during the same hours--throughout
the day the workers in the trenches kept low. This bombardment had
the desired result of permitting the batteries to be finished without
molestation, but inflicted no great damage on the city, though it set
fire to some houses, and caused casualties both among the garrison and
the inhabitants. But unaimed night-fire had of course no effect on the
walls of the enceinte.

By dawn on the 6th the two batteries were ready and opened on the
outworks with six guns: they kept up the fire all day, and with some
effect, suffering themselves very little from the distant counter-fire
of the Upper City. At dark, according to the French narrative of the
defence, parties of skirmishers came out of the trenches, took cover
in the ruins of the lower city and kept up a persistent _tiraillade_
against the outworks[679]. It was expected that they would try to rush
them at some chosen hour--and this would undoubtedly have been the
right policy. But nothing of the kind happened; the British parties
withdrew at dawn, and Bertoletti began to ask himself whether the whole
of these feeble operations were not a mere demonstration, intended
to draw the French armies of Valencia and Catalonia toward Tarragona,
while the real blow was being delivered in some other quarter.

During the second night of naval bombardment, that of the 6th-7th,
Murray had ordered a third breaching battery to be built, near the
bridge of the Francoli, 300 yards closer to the Fuerte Real than the
original battery, No. 2. On the morning of the 7th all three batteries
were hard at work, and with good effect; the gorge of the Fuerte Real
was blown to bits by flank fire from the new battery, its one gun
silenced, its parapet levelled for a long space: the garrison had
to keep under cover. At dusk Major Thackeray, the senior engineer
of the army, reported that the work could be stormed at any moment.
According to Murray’s narrative Thackeray made at the same moment the
curious comment, that if the fort were escaladed and occupied, the
ground gained would be of no immediate use for the attack on the Upper
City, whose most accessible front--the bastions of San Juan and San
Pablo--might be much more easily battered from the slopes of the Olivo
hill, farther inland, than from the low-lying site of the Fuerte Real.
To storm the outworks would cost men--to build new advanced batteries
on or near them would cost many more, since they were completely
commanded by the Upper City. ‘As the state of the fort was now such
that it could be taken whenever convenient,’ wrote Murray, ‘I consented
to defer the attack, and directed that the fire upon it should continue
only sufficiently to prevent its being re-established[680].’

The decision seems of more than doubtful wisdom. It was from ground
near the Fuerte Real that Suchet had pushed forward his approaches
in the siege of 1811, and his batteries in the lower town had proved
effective. To resolve, after four days spent on battering the outworks,
that it was better to attack from a new front, was equivalent to
sacrificing the whole of the exertions of those four days, and starting
the siege anew. But Murray accepted Thackeray’s scheme, though the
engineer warned him that he should require fourteen days more of open
trenches to reduce the Upper City. This would relegate the crisis of
the final assault to July 21st, and meanwhile Suchet and Decaen would
have had three weeks to concentrate, instead of one. The time-problem
looked very unsatisfactory.

However the new plan was taken up--more artillery and engineer-stores
and more guns were landed on the beach west of the mouth of the
Francoli, as were also the remainder of the horses of the cavalry and
the field-guns. The disembarkation was not always easy, as the surf
on the beach grew dangerous whenever the wind was high. On several
days communication with the shore had to be given up for many hours
on end. Murray complained that the foreign troops worked slowly and
unwillingly, and that he had to replace them with British parties, in
order to get up the ammunition from the boats to the batteries[681].

However, progress was made, and in the four days between the 7th and
the 10th of June two heavy batteries were thrown up on the high-lying
slopes of the Olivo hill, in positions from which they could bring an
enfilading as well as a frontal fire to bear upon the three corner
bastions of the Upper City, including the roughly repaired breaches in
the curtain, by which Suchet had made his entry in 1811. On the 9th and
again on the 10th Admiral Hallowell sent his available vessels in-shore
to resume the bombardment; and late on the latter day the batteries
on the Olivo began their fire, which they continued on the following
morning: it was very effective, all the attacked bastions and the
curtain between them being much damaged. Meanwhile the old batteries
by the Francoli overwhelmed the Fuerte Real and San Carlos forts with
renewed fire, destroying such repairs as the garrisons had been able to
carry out. The Governor, Bertoletti, made up his mind that there would
be a general assault both on the forts and on the Upper City on the
night of the 11th, and made such preparations as he could to receive
it. But the prospect was gloomy--the garrison was worn out, the walls
were crumbling, and there seemed no hope of succour from without.

Meanwhile, harassed as the Governor might be, Murray was in an even
greater state of depression. He had never believed, as he acknowledged
at his court martial, that he could succeed. The only gleam of hope
which ever entered his mind was when on the morning of the 8th he
received news that the fort of Balaguer had been taken, so that the
road by which Suchet could most easily arrive was completely blocked.
At any rate there would be a day or two gained, since the army of
Valencia would have to take difficult and circuitous roads, instead of
a short and direct one, when it came up.

The siege of the Fort of San Felipe de Balaguer had lasted four days.
The place was small, only sixty yards square; it mounted twelve
guns, but was held by only a single company. It was in a rocky and
inaccessible position, and when Colonel Prevost had landed with his
brigade, and had reconnoitred the place on the 3rd, he found that it
must be battered by heavy guns. Shelling it with field pieces proved
unavailing. Accordingly aid was sought from the fleet, and with great
difficulty the sailors of the _Invincible_ got two 12-pounders and a
howitzer ashore, to a spot 700 yards from the fort. But the ground was
so steep and rocky that it was difficult to construct a battery, and
when the fire was opened it proved not very effective. It was only when
more guns had been hoisted up the rocks, to a position only 300 yards
from the fort, that anything was accomplished. On the evening of the
7th a lucky bomb from a mortar exploded one of the French magazines,
and the commandant surrendered[682]. It was thought that he might have
held out longer, as his main magazine was intact--but nearly a third
of his garrison of 150 men had been hurt, and their morale was low.
With the capture of Fort San Felipe the coast road became absolutely
blocked to any troops coming from Suchet’s direction, and Murray, as
he confessed, ‘entertained a ray of hope, not so much of the capture
of Tarragona itself, but that the expedition might prove, as Lord
Wellington wished it to prove, an effective diversion in favour of the
allied army in Valencia[683].’ It was this success, as he explained,
which encouraged him to remain two days longer in front of Tarragona
than he would otherwise have done, since the loss of the coast-road
would add two marches to the distance which Suchet had to cover in
order to join Decaen.

For already this downhearted general was obsessed with panic fears
that the enemy might be upon him at any moment. He was gleaning in
every rumour of the near approach of Suchet and Decaen, however
incredible. On the 4th he had received an express from Prevost, with a
message that the Marshal had reached Tortosa and might be at the Col de
Balaguer on the 5th. On the 7th there was a report that a heavy French
column was at Amposta, near the mouth of the Ebro, marching north. And
on the other side Decaen was said to be in movement--‘Could I ever
have expected,’ said Murray, a year later, ‘that his army would not be
united, that his movable column would have remained divided at Gerona,
Figueras, and Barcelona[684]?’ Accordingly he wrote that night to
Wellington, ‘I am much afraid we have undertaken more than we are able
to perform. But to execute your Lordship’s orders I shall persevere
as long as prudence will permit. I have as yet no certain information
of Suchet’s movements, nor of Decaen to the eastward. But there are
reports of both, and if they prove true, in five or six days I may be
attacked by a force infinitely superior, without the hope of a retreat
in case of misfortune. I calculate that Suchet can bring into the field
24,000 or 25,000 men without difficulty[685].’ There is not a thought
in Murray’s brain of the chance that one of the enemy’s columns might
be late, and that it might be possible from his central position to
fall upon the other, with his own forces and those of Copons united.

As a matter of fact things were working out most favourably for him.
Suchet had seen the great transport-fleet pass the coast of Valencia
on the 31st May; but he was wholly in doubt whether the expedition
might be intending to strike at Tortosa or Tarragona, at Barcelona
or Rosas. The Marshal had to make up his mind to act, before he knew
his enemy’s objective or his exact numbers. After many searchings of
heart he resolved to keep the bulk of his forces in the kingdom of
Valencia, which he was most unwilling to give up, and to march with
a column of moderate strength to reinforce the Army of Catalonia. He
left Harispe in command in the South, with his own division, that of
Habert, Severoli’s Italians, and the bulk of his cavalry, and resolved
to move on Tortosa with Musnier’s division, his hussar regiment,
three batteries of artillery, and an improvised brigade under General
Pannetier, composed of four battalions borrowed some time back from the
Army of Catalonia, one battalion of his own, and an odd squadron of
Westphalian light horse belonging to the Army of the Centre. The whole
made up about 8,000 men[686], a force so weak that it was clear that
he dared not attack Murray till he should be joined by the troops of
Decaen. Pannetier’s brigade had a long start, as it was about Castellon
and Segorbe when the order to march arrived: it reached Tortosa on
June 8th, and Perello on the Balaguer road on the 10th. Then the news
came in that the fort of San Felipe had capitulated two days before.
Pannetier halted, and sent back the information to Suchet, who had
reached Tortosa on the 9th, escorted by a squadron of dragoons. But
Musnier’s division had taken some time to assemble, only left Valencia
on the 7th, and was far behind. Suchet was in no small perplexity this
day. The coast-road was blocked: it was the only one by which guns
and transport could move directly on Tarragona. No news whatever had
been received of Decaen and the Army of Catalonia. Musnier could not
reach Tortosa till the 11th. Should he recall Pannetier, wait for the
arrival of the rest of his column, and then march with his whole force
by the circuitous inland road along the Ebro, by Ginestar, Tivisa,
and Momblanch, so as to reach the plain of Tarragona from the north?
This would lead to insufferable delays--the country was desolate and
waterless, and when the column reached its goal the Army of Copons,
with help perchance from Murray, would be in the way. Ten days might
easily be wasted, and meanwhile Tarragona would probably have fallen.
Information must at all costs be got, and the Marshal finally ordered
Pannetier to drop all his impedimenta, and push with his infantry
alone by mountain paths from Perello to Monroig, on the edge of the
hills overlooking the plain of Tarragona. This was to take a dangerous
risk--a brigade of 2,500 bayonets might easily be surrounded by the
Catalans and cut off. But the attention of Copons was at this moment
distracted to the other direction. Pannetier reached the slopes above
Monroig on the night of the 11th-12th, and could get no information
there--the people had fled up into the mountains. The only fact that
came to his notice was that no cannonading could be heard next morning
from the direction of Tarragona: the most natural deduction was
that the place had fallen. But in case it might still be resisting,
Pannetier ordered a row of bonfires to be lighted along the hillsides,
which he thought would be visible to the beleaguered garrison, and
would show that succour was at hand. He then drew off again by the
same rough paths by which he had come, and returned to Valdellos,
half-way back to Perello. From thence he could only send a report of
a negative kind to Suchet, who was left none the wiser for this risky
reconnaissance. Meanwhile Musnier’s division had at last come up, but
there had also arrived the news that Del Parque and Elio were on the
move in Valencia, and were pushing back Harispe’s advanced troops. On
the 12th-13th-14th the Marshal remained stationary, waiting vainly
for news, and fearing the worst. Murray, if he had but known it, had
nothing to fear from this quarter.

On the other flank also things were working out in the best possible
fashion for the besieger of Tarragona. There was a long delay before
the Army of Catalonia could prepare a field force which could dare
to face the Anglo-Sicilians. Decaen himself was at Gerona, far away
to the North, and got the news of Murray’s landing on June 5th, by a
dispatch sent him by Maurice Mathieu, Governor of Barcelona. He had no
troops under his hand save the four battalions of Beurmann’s brigade
of Lamarque’s division; he could only collect more men by cutting down
the garrisons of Figueras and Puycerda, and calling in two brigades
(those of Petit and Espert) which were acting as flying columns at the
moment, and were out of touch, in the sub-Pyrenean foot-hills. The news
that a very large disembarkation had taken place near Tarragona struck
him at first with such dismay that he replied to Maurice Mathieu that
they could not hope to resist such a force, and that it might even be
necessary to evacuate Barcelona[687]. However, resolving to do what
he could, he ordered Beurmann’s brigade to march on Barcelona (June
8), and sent orders around for a general shifting of the northern
garrisons, so that he hoped to collect another 4,000 men at Gerona in
the course of a week, if the flying columns could be discovered and
brought in. With this reserve he intended to come down to join the rest
of the field force about the 14th or 15th. Meanwhile he ordered Maurice
Mathieu to demonstrate against the enemy, without risking anything, or
quitting the valley of the Llobregat and the vicinity of Barcelona.

Maurice Mathieu was the only one of the generals in Catalonia, French
or allied, who deserves any credit for his conduct in this campaign
of blunders. He resolved that the one thing necessary was to take the
offensive, and to threaten the besiegers of Tarragona, even if he
dared not venture to attack them. Beurmann’s brigade having arrived on
June 10th, he marched next day with it and four battalions of his own
to Villafranca, half-way between Barcelona and Tarragona, and drove
in Copons’ outposts--leaving his base-fortress occupied by a very
inadequate garrison. He had only 6,000 infantry and 300 horse with him,
so that he was wholly incapable of facing Murray’s expeditionary force
if it should show fight. Meanwhile he sent letters to Decaen, telling
him that the honour of the Army of Catalonia was at stake, and that it
was necessary for him to come down from Gerona without delay, and with
every available man. But the Commander-in-Chief did not appear--he was
detained by a naval demonstration in the Bay of Rosas. For Sir Edward
Pellew, then in command of the Mediterranean Fleet, had run down from
his usual cruising ground opposite Toulon, and concentrated a numerous
squadron off the coast of the Ampurdam. He came close in-shore, made a
great display of boats, and even landed a few hundred marines on June
8th. The news of this disembarkation filled Decaen with the idea that
the Tarragona expedition was only a snare, intended to make him draw
off all his forces southward, and that the true blow would be struck
at Rosas. He concentrated his scattered troops with the object of
parrying it, and was so long in detecting his mistake that it was only
on June 15th that he set out from Gerona, with four battalions and
one squadron, to join Maurice Mathieu, having at last discovered that
Pellew could do no real mischief.

The Governor of Barcelona, therefore, had never more than 6,000 men
at his disposition during the critical days of the campaign--June
11th-12th-13th-14th. He had, as has been mentioned above, reached
Villafranca on the first-named day. There he received what had been
longed for in vain up till now, a detailed dispatch from Suchet,
setting forth his intentions. But it was no less than twelve days
old, having been written at Valencia on May 31st, before the Marshal
had any knowledge of Murray’s strength, objective, or intentions. It
stated that he was intending to march via Tortosa, and that he hoped
that Decaen with all his disposable field force would come down to
meet him at Reus, unless indeed the Anglo-Sicilians were aiming at
some more northern point, in which case he would have to follow them
to Upper Catalonia. But he added that it was possible that the whole
naval expedition might be a mere feint, intended to lure him northward
beyond the Ebro; the fleet might turn back again and re-land the whole
of Murray’s force near Valencia[688].

The dispatch was hopelessly out of date, and Maurice Mathieu had
no means of knowing whether Suchet had carried out his original
intentions. But his first impression was that he must seek for the
Marshal at Reus, according to the directions given. Accordingly on
June 12 he pushed his vanguard as far as Arbos, six miles in advance
of Villafranca, and some 24 miles from Tarragona. But nothing could
be heard of the Marshal’s approach, and Copons’ troops were gathering
in from all sides to block the road, while Murray was only one march
away. Seized with sudden misgivings at finding himself close to 20,000
enemies with such a trilling force, Mathieu made up his mind that
it would be madness to push on. At 10 o’clock on the night of the
12th-13th[689] he evacuated both Arbos and Villafranca, and retreated
in haste to Barcelona, to await the arrival of Decaen and the reserve.

Murray’s miserable timidity now intervened, to save Tarragona, just
when both the French forces had found themselves foiled, and had given
up the relief of the fortress as impossible. The story reads like the
plot of a stupid theatrical farce, where every character does the wrong
thing, in order to produce absurd complications in the situation. On
the 12th Pannetier, on the hills above Monroig, heard no bombardment,
because the bombardment had ceased. And Maurice Mathieu on the night of
that same day was running away from an enemy who had already absconded
that very afternoon. So, after coming within 35 miles of each other,
the two French generals had turned back in despair and given up the
game. But Murray had given it up also.

The bombardment had gone on very successfully throughout the 11th
June, and the engineers reported at noon that the Fuerte Real could
be stormed at any moment, and that the works of the Upper City were
crumbling in many places. Orders were issued that Mackenzie’s division
should storm the Fuerte Real at 10 p.m., while Clinton’s was to make
a demonstration against the Upper City. All arrangements were made,
and after dark the troops designated for the assault filed into the
advanced trenches: the signal was to be by a flight of rockets[690].
But the rockets never went up.

For some days Murray had been in a state of agonized indecision. On the
9th he had received information from a trusted secret agent in Valencia
that Suchet had marched for Tortosa on the 7th with 9,000 men--this was
absolutely certain and showed that all the previous rumours from the
South had been false. On the same day a dispatch came in from Eroles at
Vich to say that a French column (Beurmann’s brigade) had left Gerona
on the 8th, marching for Barcelona, and that he intended to follow it
with his own detachment, and would join Copons before the enemy could
concentrate. The French then were on the move on both flanks--but
still far off. On the night of the 10th General Manso, commanding on
Copons’ right flank, reported the approaching departure of Maurice
Mathieu from Barcelona, but overrated his force at 10,000 men. He
undertook to detain them in the defiles beyond Villafranca for at least
one day. This news was corroborated next evening by an officer of
Whittingham’s staff, who had seen the column, estimated it at 7,000 to
8,000 infantry, and reported that it had entered Villafranca at 4 p.m.
on the 11th[691]. But it was the movements of Suchet which gave Murray
the greater alarm: by ingenious miscalculations[692] he had arrived at
the statistical conclusion that the Marshal had got 12,000 or 13,000
men of all arms with him, instead of the real 8,000[693]. And when the
arrival of Pannetier’s brigade at Perello on the 10th was reported
to him on the following day, he proceeded to assume that the French
column was all closed up: ‘the Marshal with 13,000 men was within two
long marches of Tarragona[694].’ Many generals would have asked for no
better opportunity than that of being placed in a central position with
some 23,000 men--the Anglo-Sicilian troops and those of Copons exceeded
that figure--while two hostile columns, one of 13,000 men and the other
of 10,000, 35 miles apart, were trying to join each other across a
difficult country by bad roads. (As a matter of fact, of course, the
French force was much smaller--no more than 8,000 men on the West, and
6,000 on the East, though Murray must not be too much blamed for the
over-estimate.) But the two governing ideas that ruled in the brain
of the unfortunate general were firstly the memory of Wellington’s
warning that ‘the one thing that could not be forgiven would be that
the corps should be beaten or dispersed’, and secondly the fact that
his army was composed of heterogeneous material, some of which might
be found wanting at a crisis. But he concealed his downheartedness
till the last moment, both from his own lieutenants and from the
Spaniards. On the 10th he rode out to meet General Copons at Torre dem
Barra, to which place the Catalan head-quarters had just been moved,
and agreed with him to defend the line of the Gaya river against the
column coming from Barcelona. He promised to send up all his cavalry,
8,000 infantry, and two field batteries to join the Spanish army, which
was now concentrated across the two roads by which Tarragona could be
approached from Villafranca. Five battalions were on the northern road,
by the Col de Santa Cristina, four and the three squadrons of horse on
the southern route, nearer the sea. Warnings were issued to Clinton’s
and Whittingham’s divisions, and also to Lord Frederick Bentinck, the
cavalry brigadier, to be ready to march to the line of the Gaya[695].
This looked like business, and the spirits of the Anglo-Sicilians were
high that night.

On the morning of the 11th, while the bombardment of Tarragona was
going on in a very satisfactory way, Murray rode out again, met Copons
at Vendrils, behind the Gaya, and spent much time in inspecting
the chosen positions. He disliked them; the river was fordable in
many places, and a very long front would have to be guarded: it was
considered that the French might break through by one of the roads
before the troops guarding the other could arrive. However, adhering to
his promise of the 10th, Murray ordered up Bentinck with two squadrons
of hussars and two guns to the mouth of the Gaya, where they took over
the outposts on the coast-road. The infantry was not brought up--as the
assault on Tarragona was to take place that evening. The only news from
the front received in the afternoon were rumours that Maurice Mathieu
had actually reached Villafranca[696].

At seven o’clock Murray started home, and reached his head-quarters
before Tarragona two hours later. There he found a batch of reports
awaiting him, which finally broke down his resolution to fight, and
drove him to the ignominious flight which he had already contemplated
on more than one day during the preceding week. Two Spanish officers
had come in from the Col de Santa Cristina, to report that the
Barcelona column had certainly occupied Villafranca, and was apparently
pushing on beyond it: this was discouraging. But the document which
Murray regarded as all-important was a note from his adjutant-general,
Donkin, to the effect that peasants, who had just come in from Perello,
reported that Suchet’s column had continued its advance: ‘This corps
of infantry may be at Reus to-morrow, if they think proper to march
by Perello _without artillery_. And Decaen (i. e. Mathieu), if he
marched this day to Villafranca, can also reach Reus to-morrow. This
possibility may, perhaps, make some change in your arrangements[697].’
As a matter of fact, we have already seen that it was only Pannetier’s
brigade which had gone across the hills from Perello towards Monroig,
and that this was a mere reconnaissance.

But Donkin’s picture of Suchet and the Barcelona column joining at
Reus, in his rear, on the 12th, with forces which Murray’s imagination
raised to 25,000 men, was so much in consonance with the fears which
had been obsessing the brains of the Commander-in-Chief throughout
the last ten days, that he felt that his nightmare was coming true.
There could be no doubt that he was on the brink of a disaster like
the Ostend catastrophe of 1798[698]. Of course Suchet’s active brain
had planned his complete destruction. He tells us in his defence[699]
that he asked himself whether it was probable that an officer of the
Marshal’s activity and reputation would have left a man more than he
could help in Valencia. ‘Was it the character of a French general to
act with inadequate means when ample means were within his reach? Was
it probable that he would have brought a small force only from the
Xucar by the fatiguing march to Tortosa? Would he have left a man idle
in the south when in danger of losing his communication with France?
Every disposable corps, many more than what might be calculated to be
fairly disposable, must be with the Marshal.’ He might have not 13,000
men but many more. And the Barcelona column might be not 10,000 men but
13,000.

Rather than take the risk of waiting one day longer in his present
position, Murray resolved to abscond by sea, while the enemy was still
twenty miles away from Tarragona. By 9.30 p.m. he had sent his staff
officers with messages to his divisional generals to stop the projected
assault, to order all guns, horses, and stores to be got on shipboard,
and the infantry after them. He calculated, in his panic, that he had
only eighteen hours in hand: the re-embarkation must be over by dusk
on the 12th. But the most disgraceful part of his scheme was that he
had resolved to leave Copons and the Catalans to their fate, after
having brought them to the Gaya by definite promises of assistance,
without which they would never have taken up their fighting position,
and this though he had renewed his pledges that same morning. He sent
no warning of his real intentions to his colleague, but only told him
that recent information had made it necessary for him to re-embark his
battering train; but six Anglo-Sicilian battalions should be sent out
next morning, to strengthen the force behind the Gaya.

There followed a night and a morning of confusion. No one in the
expeditionary force had hitherto suspected Murray’s wavering
confidence, except Admiral Hallowell, to whom he had on June 9th made
the remark that he imagined that they ought to be thinking about
getting away in safety rather than about prolonging the siege, and
the Quartermaster-General, Donkin, to whom on the same day Murray
had said that he suspected that they would have ere long to depart,
whereupon that officer had drawn up a secret scheme for the details of
re-embarkation[700]. But since nothing more had been heard about such
a move on the 10th or the 11th, Hallowell and Donkin had supposed that
the idea was abandoned. Clinton and the other senior officers had been
kept entirely in the dark, till the sudden orders of 9.30 p.m. were
delivered to them. At midnight Admiral Hallowell came in to Murray’s
quarters to protest against the hasty departure, which would cause all
manner of confusion and ensure the loss of much valuable material:
they parted after an angry altercation. Colonel Williamson (commanding
the artillery) also appeared, to say that in the time given him he
could get off the guns in the batteries near the shore, but not those
on the distant Olivo. He understood the general to reply that he might
be granted some extra hours, and that the Olivo guns might be brought
down after dark on the 12th[701].

But in the morning Murray’s apprehension grew progressively worse.
He had at first intended to do something to cover Copons’ inevitable
retreat, and ordered Clinton to throw out six battalions towards the
Gaya. But he soon cancelled this order, and directed Bentinck to bring
back his cavalry and guns from Altafulla without delay. At 9 a.m. a
message was sent to Williamson, to say that the guns on the Olivo
must be spiked or destroyed, as it would be perilous to wait till
night[702]. Half an hour later Murray’s notions of retreat flickered
round to a new scheme--the troops on the shore should embark there;
but those on the northern heights--the divisions of Clinton and
Whittingham--should march to the Col de Balaguer via Constanti, and
take ship in the much better harbourage behind Cape Salou. Half an hour
later he abandoned this scheme, and ordered them down to the beach by
the Francoli, there to embark without delay.

This dispatch reduced Clinton to a state of cold rage: at the court
martial in 1814 he produced seven separate orders which he had
received between dawn and 1.30 that day: they were all contradictory,
and deserve record as showing Murray’s state of mind during the
critical hours. (1) The first, received early, directed him to take
six battalions towards the Gaya, to cover the retreat of Copons from
Altafulla. (2) The second, sent off at 9 o’clock, told him not to
execute this march, but to wait till the Spaniards had cleared off,
and then to move, not with six battalions but with the whole of his
own and Whittingham’s divisions, to Constanti[703]. (3) The third
was to the effect that the baggage should be sent to the Col de
Balaguer, to which the whole army would now proceed[704]. (4) Half an
hour later Clinton was told to cancel the last two dispatches, and to
come down to head-quarters on the nearest beach. (5) A supplementary
verbal order directed that the guns in the Olivo batteries should be
spiked. (6) Twenty minutes later Clinton was told that the guns might
still be saved: Whittingham’s Spaniards should remain on the Olivo
and guard them till dusk, when the artillery would try to get them
down to the shore. (7) Lastly, at 1.30, the final order cancelled the
sixth, it directed (once more) that Whittingham’s troops must follow
Clinton’s for instant embarkation, and that the guns should be spiked
without delay. This was done, to the intense disgust of the gunners,
who had been getting everything ready for an orderly retreat after
dusk. Seventeen heavy pieces in good condition, and one more which had
been disabled, were spiked and left in the Olivo batteries, while the
infantry hurried down to the shore.

The momentary wavering in Murray’s orders during the early morning,
when he seemed inclined to risk a longer stay, and to march Clinton’s
division and the baggage by land to the anchorage by the Col de
Balaguer, was apparently caused partly by new remonstrances from
Hallowell, partly by an interview with some of his subordinates,
somewhere between 8 and 9 a.m., Mackenzie, Adam, Donkin, and Thackeray,
the chief engineer, entered the house of the Commander-in-Chief
together, and Adam, as their spokesman, urged him with great heat
not to embark, but to advance, join Copons, and attack the French
on the Gaya with every available man. Murray replied that if he did
so, the French would refuse to fight and give back toward Barcelona;
while Suchet, coming from the other direction, would cut him off from
the fleet and relieve Tarragona. But if, on the other hand, he were
to march against Suchet, and stop him, then the Barcelona column
would relieve Tarragona and get the expeditionary force separated
from its transports. Either course would be equally ruinous. He also
said that Wellington had told him ‘not to commit the army’. The
generals withdrew--further insistence would have amounted to military
insubordination. The final hurry-scurry order, to destroy the guns and
embark pell-mell, was caused by news from Copons that the French at
Villafranca had advanced as far as Arbos, only ten miles from the Gaya,
and seemed still to be coming on.

During the night and the morning that followed all the guns from the
lower batteries, much valuable material, some of the cavalry, and the
infantry of Adam, were got aboard. The shipment of artillery stores
was still proceeding at 10 o’clock, when Murray ordered that nothing
but men should now be embarked--all else must be abandoned. Admiral
Hallowell, who was superintending the work on the beach in person, was
much incensed with this resolve, and took it upon himself to direct the
sailors in the boats to refuse infantry, and to go on lading stores.
Then came a deadlock--Hallowell said that there was plenty of time
to take off everything: Donkin, coming down from Murray’s quarters,
maintained that the French were only two and a half hours’ march away,
and that the infantry must be got off at all costs: horses and mules
might have to be shot, and food and ammunition abandoned[705]. There
was much disputing, but the naval men, obeying the admiral, continued
to embark horses and artillery material till midday, when Mackenzie’s
infantry began to pour down to the beaches, followed by Clinton’s
and Whittingham’s battalions[706]. All through the afternoon the
shipping off of troops continued without any interruption, till only
a rearguard of 500 of Clinton’s men was left on shore. No news of the
French coming to hand, there was a relaxation of the wild hurry which
had prevailed between 9 a.m. and 2 p.m. Murray permitted Bentinck to
take that part of the cavalry which had not yet embarked round to the
anchorage by the Col de Balaguer by land[707], and sent on behind
them twelve field-guns escorted by a half battalion of the 2/27th.
Meanwhile, the troops having all got off, the boats began to load again
with transport mules, entrenching tools, spare shot, platform timbers,
sand bags, and biscuit. The rear guard was not taken off till late
at night; and, even after it was gone and dawn had come, the sailors
continued to find and take off various valuable leavings[708]. No
molestation whatever was suffered from the garrison, who regarded the
whole movement as inexplicable, and only crept out with caution after
the last British troops had disappeared, to find 18 spiked guns and
some artillery stores in the Olivo batteries, and a certain amount of
flour and beef barrels left on the shore. The most distressing part of
the chronicle of this wretched day’s work is Murray’s dealings with
Copons. He had induced the Captain-General to bring his army to the
line of the Gaya, by the promise of supporting him with 8,000 men,
renewed on the morning of the 11th. At dawn on the 12th the message was
sent that six battalions only could be spared. An hour or two later
Copons received the crushing news that the whole expeditionary army was
about to re-embark, abandoning him to his own resources. If Murray’s
view of the situation had been correct, the Spaniards must have been
caught between Suchet advancing on Reus and Mathieu converging on the
same point from Villafranca. His moral guilt, therefore, was very
great. But, as a matter of fact, nothing disastrous happened. On
hearing that he had been left in the lurch, Copons withdrew the troops
which he had at Altafulla on the coast-road, to join those at the
Col de Santa Cristina, leaving the way to Tarragona open to Maurice
Mathieu, and preparing to retreat into the mountains if necessary. He
kept a close look-out upon the French column, and was astonished on
the morning of the 13th to learn that, after sending a vanguard to
Arbos on the previous day, six miles down the southern road, it had
turned back at ten o’clock at night, and was now in full retreat on
Barcelona. The crisis was over for the moment. Copons returned to his
old head-quarters at Reus, threw out a slight screen of troops to the
line of Gaya, and reoccupied Villafranca with a few cavalry. He was
quite ready to retreat into the mountains once more if any untoward
developments should supervene.

On June 13th Murray had all his army on shipboard,[709] save Prevost’s
two battalions at the Col de Balaguer, and the guns and cavalry with
Bentinck, which had marched by land to that same pass. Wellington’s
orders told him that if he failed at Tarragona he was to return to
Valencia, join Elio and Del Parque, and fall upon the diminished French
force on the Xucar before Suchet could get back. It was his obvious
duty to pick up Prevost’s and Bentinck’s detachments, and to depart at
once. He did nothing of the kind, but proceeded to employ himself for
several days in minor operations, in the vain hope of redeeming the
disgrace of June 12th.

On the morning of the 13th Murray received news from Colonel Prevost
at San Felipe to the effect that the French column in front of him
(Pannetier’s brigade), about 3,000 strong, had marched from Perello
by mountain paths eastward, but had not been followed by Suchet’s
main body. Prevost thought that it might be intending to cut him off
from the rest of the army by dropping down into the coast-road in his
rear. Pannetier’s movement was also reported by Bentinck, whose flank
patrols had run against similar parties of the French while on their
way to the Col de Balaguer. It was necessary to bring off Prevost, the
cavalry, and the guns by sea, if the French were trying to get round
them. So Murray asked Admiral Hallowell to send ships in-shore to the
Col, and with them part of Mackenzie’s division[710], to act as a
covering force for the re-embarkation of Prevost’s detachment. These
troops--apparently three battalions--were landed near the fort late on
the evening of the 13th.

Now during that day Pannetier, conscious that he was too far away from
his chief, and quite ‘in the air,’ had drawn back from near Monroig
to Valdellos, ten miles nearer to Perello. The same idea had occurred
to Suchet, who simultaneously brought up his main body from Tortosa
to Perello, though he knew that the coast-road was blocked by the
British force holding Fort San Felipe. But on the morning of the 14th
the Marshal, exploring toward the Col, sighted not only Mackenzie’s
infantry on shore, but the whole transport fleet lying off the coast
from opposite the fort as far as Cape Salou--180 ships small and great,
as he counted. A frigate and two brigs took a number of long shots at
the Marshal and his large escort, which had to retire in haste. Suchet
saw the whole expeditionary force before him, and recognized that he
was too weak to tackle it. Wherefore he sent orders to Pannetier to
fall back and rejoin him--and came to a halt. Early on the morning of
the 15th he wrote to Decaen:

‘The loss of the Col de Balaguer has foiled all my plans. The English
fleet fired more than a thousand shot at us. Menaced by forces of four
times my own strength, I wish to know what you propose to do. The enemy
[Del Parque] has attacked my lines on the Xucar[711].’

This last fact, at the moment, was worrying Suchet even more than the
unknown fate of Tarragona, for Harispe had just reported that the two
Spanish armies in Valencia had advanced against him in force, and on
a long front. Now, while the Marshal halted in indecision, Murray was
seized with a spasmodic fit of energy--he knew that Maurice Mathieu was
for the moment out of the game; he saw that Suchet was blocked, and
that Pannetier was in a dangerously advanced position. He conceived
the idea that he might land more troops at the Col, and strike in
between the French main body and the brigade at Valdellos. To the
astonishment of his subordinates he ordered the rest of Mackenzie’s
troops and all Clinton’s to be landed, as also the remainder of the
cavalry, and instructed Mackenzie to make a forced march on Valdellos
and beat up Pannetier’s camp. The General did so, but arrived only just
in time to see the French rearguard absconding on the 15th[712]. This
demonstration of energy having failed, as it was pretty certain to do
(for events like the surprise of Arroyo dos Molinos are not common),
Murray had another inspiration. On the evening of the 15th[713] he
suggested to Admiral Hallowell that the garrison of Tarragona must now
be quite off their guard, that they had not been strengthened, and that
it might be possible to re-embark 5,000 men secretly at Fort Balaguer,
land them at Cambrils, and make a sudden dash at Tarragona by escalade
or surprise. The Admiral answered that as Murray had not felt himself
equal to storming Tarragona when the whole army was with him, and the
batteries playing on the place, he (Hallowell) did not think him equal
to it now with 5,000 men[714]. The idea was dropped: it was not without
its merits, but though Picton or Craufurd might have succeeded in such
a desperate stroke, Murray would certainly have failed from lack of
nerve at the decisive moment, as the Admiral meant to insinuate.

This wretched campaign was now nearing its end--but still reserved two
extraordinary surprises for its last days. On the 16th Suchet, much
impressed with the strength which Murray had shown, judging from the
stroke at Valdellos that he was thinking of taking the offensive, and
harassed by fresh news of Del Parque’s advance on Valencia, retired
from Perello, and took his main body back across the Ebro to Amposta,
which he reached on the 17th. He left only Pannetier’s brigade and the
hussar regiment to watch Murray. Thus the Anglo-Sicilians had opposite
them on the south only 3,000 men, from whom no possible danger could be
apprehended. But their General had no idea as yet that only a rearguard
lay before him, and imagined that the Marshal and his main body were
close in Pannetier’s rear.

The second surprise took place on the other front. Maurice Mathieu
had got back to Barcelona by a forced march on the 13th. On the next
day spies brought him the news that Murray had raised the siege of
Tarragona, and gone away with his whole army by sea. There was nothing
to prevent him from relieving Bertoletti’s garrison, save Copons’
troops holding the line of the Gaya. Therefore, although Decaen had
not yet arrived from the North, and indeed had written that he could
not start from Gerona until the 17th, Mathieu resolved to make a
second attempt to reach Tarragona. He could still count on no greater
force than the 6,000 men with which he had made his first fruitless
expedition, but he thought this sufficient to deal with the Catalans.
He moved once more upon Villafranca early on the 15th, and reached
that place the same night. Next day a forced march of twenty-four
miles brought him to Tarragona unopposed; for Copons would not fight
when unsupported by Murray, and had withdrawn his troops to Valls. At
Tarragona Mathieu learned that the Anglo-Sicilians had not disappeared
entirely from Catalonia, as he had hitherto believed, but were
concentrated at and about the Col de Balaguer. Though no news had been
received from Suchet, it might be conjectured that Murray had landed at
the Col in order to hold back the Marshal, who could not be very far
off. On the morning of the 17th Mathieu resolved to take the risky step
of advancing by the coast-road to feel for Murray’s rear, and marched
out to Cambrils six miles west of Tarragona, hoping to hear that Suchet
was simultaneously attacking the front of the Anglo-Sicilians. He was
thereby exposing himself to fearful danger, for Murray had his whole
15,000 men in hand, and quite disposable, since Suchet had withdrawn
southward on the 16th. And Copons at Valls was in a position to cut in
upon the rear of the Barcelona column with 6,000 men more: each of them
was only ten miles from Cambrils, and they were in full communication
with each other. Indeed, Murray had sent to Copons late on the 16th,
imploring him to fall upon the flank of the enemy, though he spoilt the
effect of the appeal by explaining that he was going to be attacked
by Suchet and the Barcelona column simultaneously, and expected to
be outnumbered--the Marshal had 24,000 men (!), while 8,000 men were
coming via Tarragona against his rear. Startled by these astounding
figures, the Spanish General did not actually attack Maurice Mathieu,
but contented himself with bringing forward his infantry to La Selva
and feeling for the French column by cavalry patrols sent out from Reus.

The 17th June was a day as full of ridiculous cross-purposes as the
12th. Suchet’s main body was in full march for Amposta and the road to
Valencia[715], just as Maurice Mathieu was at last coming to look for
it. Murray in the centre was expecting to be attacked on both sides
of the Col de Balaguer, believing that the reckless advance of the
Barcelona column was timed to coincide with a desperate assault on the
Col by Suchet and his whole army. Mathieu was advancing in ignorance
into a death-trap, if he had only known it, expecting every moment to
hear guns in his front, or to get news of Suchet by spies or patrols.
Copons was hanging back on Mathieu’s flank, deterred from pressing in
by Murray’s ridiculous overstatement of the total French force. If
Murray had marched from the Col that morning early with 10,000 men
and had met the French column at Cambrils, while the Catalans closed
in on its rear, no possible chance could have saved it from complete
destruction.

But Murray was doing something very different; after having made his
urgent appeal to Copons to take part in a general action on the 17th,
it occurred to him that a general action might perhaps be avoided by
the simple method of absconding once more by sea--and again leaving the
Catalans to shift for themselves. Mackenzie was back from Valdellos,
and the whole force was concentrated in the pass, with the immense
transport fleet at its elbow, and several decent embarkation places.
In the morning he called a council of war--which, as the old military
proverb goes, ‘never fights’--though he had assured Admiral Hallowell
on the preceding night that he had chosen his positions, and intended
to stand and receive the enemy’s attack[716]. The council of war voted,
by a large majority, for embarkation--probably as has been acutely
observed[717], because none of the generals liked the idea of being
commanded in action by Murray, after their recent experience of his
methods. The preparations for departure were begun on the afternoon of
the 17th, but no notice of them was sent to Copons.

Meanwhile Maurice Mathieu had halted at Cambrils: he could get no news
of Suchet, and no firing could be heard in front. On the other hand,
British warships ran close in-shore, and began to cannonade his column,
as it defiled along the coast-road. And his cavalry patrols discovered
those of Copons in front of Reus, and afterwards got in touch with the
Spanish infantry behind them. The situation was getting unpleasant; and
realizing that he had better draw back, Mathieu turned the head of his
column inland to Reus, for he was determined not to expose it a second
time to the fire of the British ships, which swept the coast-road at
many points. Marching in the night of the 17th-18th he almost surprised
Copons, who had brought his infantry up to Reus in order to fall in
with Murray’s plan for attacking the enemy in flank. But the Spaniard
was warned in time, and escaped to La Selva, from whence he wrote to
Murray, to complain that the British had not kept their part of the
bargain, nor even sent him news of Mathieu’s retirement from their
front.

At Reus the French General picked up the spy to whom Suchet had
entrusted his despairing note of June 15, which avowed his impotence
and asked what the Army of Catalonia could do[718]. Seeing that he must
hope for no help from the Marshal, Mathieu retreated by the inland road
to Constanti, two miles from Tarragona (June 18), where he halted for a
day, after sending on Suchet’s letter to his chief Decaen, and renewing
his former petitions that the reserves from the North should get to
Barcelona as soon as possible. It was clear that the Army of Catalonia
must save itself, without any aid from the Army of Valencia.

While Maurice Mathieu stood doubting at Cambrils, and all through
the night hours while he was marching on Reus, there had been a
rapid shifting of scenes at the Col de Balaguer. Murray’s orders for
re-embarkation were just drawn up when a formidable fleet of men-of-war
became visible on the horizon, and presently ran close in-shore. This
was Sir Edward Pellew with the Toulon blockading squadron, twelve line
of battle ships, besides smaller craft. They had run down from the Bay
of Rosas, after picking up at Port Mahon a vessel from Sicily, on which
was Lord William Bentinck, who had at last arrived to assume command of
the Anglo-Sicilian army. He had torn himself away with some reluctance
from his plans for raising a general insurrection in Italy against
Napoleon, having satisfied himself that there was no risk of Murat’s
invading Sicily in his absence, and that the local politics of Palermo
were deplorable but not dangerous[719]. When the signal was made from
Pellew’s flagship that Lord William had arrived, Admiral Hallowell
answered with the counter-signal, ‘We are all delighted,’ which was
sincere and accurate, but not officially correct. It was remembered
against him afterwards, as an improper ebullition of misplaced humour.

Bentinck landed at San Felipe without a moment’s delay, took over
the command from Murray, and heard his report. He also talked with
Hallowell and the senior land-officers. He made up his mind very
promptly: the embarkation which had begun was to continue, and the
Army was to be taken back to Valencia at once, in strict consonance
with Wellington’s original orders. He explained in his next dispatch
home that he was aware that he might have chased Maurice Mathieu, and
probably have compelled him to throw himself into Tarragona. But he
conceived that a second siege of that fortress would take many days,
and would not be so profitable to the general cause as an unexpected
return to Valencia to join Del Parque and Elio. The Army, as he wrote
to Wellington, was in the best spirits, but most dissatisfied as to
what had happened before Tarragona, ‘concerning which, from motives of
delicacy, he would refrain from saying anything[720].’ But there had
been much material lost, the horses and mules were in a bad way, from
having been so often landed and reshipped, and it was better to return
to Alicante and reorganize everything than to start another Catalan
campaign.

The troops were got on board very rapidly, and the whole transport
fleet set sail southward on the 18th. The fort of San Felipe was
blown up, as Bentinck was not willing to leave any troops behind to
garrison it. Unfortunately, the good weather which had been granted
to Murray at the starting of the expedition was denied to Bentinck
during its return. A furious north-east wind was blowing, which
scattered the ships, and drove no less than fourteen of them ashore
on the projecting sands at the estuary of the Ebro. Ten were got off
when the storm moderated, but four had to be burned, after the crews
and troops had been taken off. Bentinck, after four days at sea, got
into Alicante on the 22nd June, ahead of the great majority of the
transports, which continued to drop in, some much disabled, for three
or four days after. This caused a tiresome delay in the reorganization
of the army, as odd companies of every regiment were missing, and the
units could not be re-formed and marched inland for some time. The
delay gave Bentinck time to write long dispatches to the Secretary
for War and to Wellington. These went off on the 23rd by special
messenger, and along with them lengthy screeds from Murray and Admiral
Hallowell. The two officers wrote most bitterly of each other to the
Commander-in-Chief--the Admiral detailing all the General’s hesitations
and tergiversations with caustic irony, while the General wrote that
‘if I had only allowed the Admiral to command the army you would never
have been troubled with the long letter which accompanies this....
He thinks that prejudice against him led me to act as I did. These
are the real grounds of all his outcry[721].’ Murray’s long dispatch
was not only very disingenuous in suppression of facts, but so vague
concerning all necessary dates and figures, that Wellington, when it
came to hand, showed profound dissatisfaction. He observed that it
‘left him entirely ignorant of what had occurred,’ and administered
a searching interrogatory of eleven questions, answers to which were
necessary before a judgement could be formed by himself or the Home
Government on what had really happened in Catalonia[722]. Murray’s
replies were as unconvincing as his original dispatches, and the matter
ended in a long-deferred and lengthy court martial at Winchester in
1814, after the war had come to an end. To describe it here would
interrupt unseasonably the narrative of the summer campaign of 1813.
But it may suffice to say that he did not get his deserts. He was only
convicted of an error of judgement, and not of the ‘disobedience to
orders and neglect of duty, highly to the prejudice of the service, and
detrimental to the British military character’ for which he was put on
trial. He was never even indicted for his worst offence--the callous
betrayal of the Spanish colleague who had done his best to serve him.

SECTION XXXVII: CHAPTER IV

WELLINGTON ON THE BIDASSOA

On July 1st the last of Foy’s troops on the sea-coast front had
recrossed the lower Bidassoa, leaving Graham and Giron in complete
possession of the Spanish bank, and free to commence the siege of St.
Sebastian. They had 25,000 men in line, without counting Mendizabal’s
Biscayan irregulars, who were observing the fortress, and the 5th
British Division, which was now on its march from Vittoria to the
frontier, and was due to arrive on the 5th or 6th. These forces were
amply sufficient to hold in check Reille, Foy, and the Bayonne Reserve.

On July 1st also Wellington began to arrange his march northward from
Pampeluna, which might have begun on the 26th June if he had not taken
off so many divisions for the fruitless pursuit of Clausel. The five
days’ respite granted to the enemy had been very useful to him. If
the King had been followed up without delay, at the moment when he
had split his army into the three columns, which marched the first
by Yrurzun and Santesteban (Reille), the second by the Col de Velate
(D’Erlon), and the third by the Pass of Roncesvalles (Gazan), it is
hard to say where or how he could have rallied or offered any effective
resistance. Wellington had preferred to take the doubtful chance of
intercepting and destroying a secondary force, rather than to devote
himself to the relentless pursuit of the demoralized main body of the
enemy. But it must be remembered that a resolve to push the chase after
the flying King would have involved an instant invasion of France.
And though on general military grounds a defeated enemy should be
kept on the run and destroyed in detail--like Brunswick’s army after
Jena--there were in June-July 1813 the strongest political reasons to
deter Wellington from crossing the frontier. It was not merely that he
had outmarched his transport, and had not yet got into touch with his
new bases of supply at Santander and on the Biscay coast, so that for
the moment he was a little short of ammunition, and also living on
the country, a practice which he disliked on principle and wished to
end as soon as possible[723]. Nor was his hindrance the fact that his
army was tired and sulky, and that many of his stragglers had not yet
rejoined--though both of these vexations had their weight[724]. Nor was
the political consideration that held him back the deplorable news from
Cadiz, received at Caseda on June 28th, to the effect that the Regency
had deposed Castaños from his office as Captain-General of Galicia,
Estremadura, and both the Castiles, and had superseded his nephew
General Giron in the command of the Fourth Army[725]. This was indeed
a serious blow--not so much because Wellington could always rely on
Castaños, and had found Giron more obedient than most Spanish officers,
but because it looked as if the Cadiz Government was aiming at an open
repudiation of the bargain that had been made in January, by which
they had agreed not to make or revoke appointments of the military
sort without giving notice, and receiving approval. The excuses given
for the changes were paltry and unconvincing--Castaños was wanted to
take his seat in the Council of State--Giron was to be sent, with
large reinforcements, to serve with Copons as second in command of
the Army of Catalonia. Wellington concluded, and rightly, that the
real causes of these attacks on his friends were petty political
intrigues--the ‘Liberal’ party in Cadiz was trying to secure its own
domination by evicting those who might be considered ‘Serviles’ or even
‘Moderates’ from positions of power[726]. He had resolved not to bring
the relations between himself and the Regency to a crisis, by making a
formal demand for the restoration of Castaños and Giron to their posts.
He wrote indeed to the Minister of War to say that he considered that
he had been ‘most unworthily treated’ and that there were limits to
his forbearance, but he avoided an open rupture, and waited for the
Regency to take the next step. He wrote, however, to his brother, the
Ambassador at Cadiz, that he ought to call together in private all the
more sensible and sound members of the Cortes, and to warn them of
the pernicious effects of this last move: unless they wished to see
him resign the position of Generalissimo, given him only six months
back, they must bring pressure on their government--‘they have it in
their power to interfere if they still wish that I should retain the
command[727].’

But this political trouble, ominous though it might be of friction in
the near future, was not the cause of Wellington’s failure to exploit
to the utmost the effects of the battle of Vittoria. The real hindrance
was not the state of Spanish politics, but the posture of affairs in
Central Europe. The Armistice of Plässwitz had been signed on June
4, and till it came to an end on August 11 there was a possibility
of peace between Napoleon and his Russian and Prussian enemies, on
terms which Great Britain would be unable to accept. Wellington was
sent frequent dispatches by Lord Bathurst, to keep him abreast of the
latest developments in the Conferences, but inevitably it took a very
long time for news from Saxony to reach London and be transmitted to
Spain. Now if Napoleon should succeed in making a separate peace with
the Allies, his first care would be to evict the British Army, if it
should have entered France in successful pursuit of King Joseph and
his demoralized host. Even if it should have taken Bayonne, crushed
the enemy’s field force, and made good way towards Bordeaux, it would
have no chance of standing against the enormous reserves that could be
drawn from Germany, with the Emperor himself at their head. Therefore
it would be better to take up a good position on the line of the
Pyrenees, secured by capturing St. Sebastian and Pampeluna, than to
make an irruption into France, however brilliant the immediate results
of such a move might be. Still ignorant on July 12 of the tendency of
the conferences at Dresden, Wellington wrote to the Secretary for War:
‘My future operations will depend a good deal upon what passes in the
North of Europe: and if operations should recommence there, on the
strength and description of the reinforcement which the enemy may get
on our front.... I think I can hold the Pyrenees as easily as I can
Portugal. I am quite certain that I can hold the position which I have
got more easily than the Ebro, or any other line in Spain[728].’ In
another letter he explains that he is giving his army a few days of
much needed rest, by the end of which he hopes not only to have heard
of the fall of St. Sebastian, but of the results of the negotiations
in Germany[729]. In a third he puts the matter in the clearest terms:
‘Much depends upon the state of affairs in the North of Europe. If
the war should be renewed, I should do most good by moving forward
into France, and I should probably be able to establish myself there.
If it is not renewed, I should only go into France to be driven out
again. So I shall do my best to confine myself to securing what I
have gained[730].’ In a fourth he complains that many people, even
officers at the front, seem to think that after driving the French from
the frontiers of Portugal to the Pyrenees, he ought to invade France
immediately. ‘Some expect that we shall be at Paris in a month.’ But
though he entertained no doubt that he could enter France to-morrow,
and establish the Army on the Adour, he could go no farther. For if
peace were made by the Allies, he must necessarily withdraw into Spain,
and the retreat, though short, would be through a difficult country and
a hostile population. So from what he could gather about the progress
of negotiations in Germany, he had determined that it would be unsafe
to think of anything in the way of an invasion of France[731].

Everything therefore at present, and for many weeks to follow, depended
on the news concerning the Armistice. And the happy intelligence that
it had come to an end, and that the war was renewed, with the Austrians
added to the Allied forces, only reached Wellington on September 7th.
The actual declaration of war by Austria took place on August 11, by
which time the situation on the Spanish frontier had suffered many
vicissitudes, for in the last fortnight during which the Armistice
endured, there had taken place Soult’s desperate invasion of Spain, and
all the bloody fighting known as the Battles of the Pyrenees.

Meanwhile we must return to July 1st, on which day Wellington had
already made up his mind that his present programme should be confined
to bringing up his army to the Bidassoa and the Pyrenean passes, and
undertaking the siege of St. Sebastian and the blockade of Pampeluna.
He was still not quite happy about the intentions of Clausel--he
trusted that the French General and his 15,000 men would retire to
France by the pass above Jaca[732]. If he were to remain at Saragossa,
and Suchet were there to join him, a tiresome complication would be
created on his right rear--wherefore he kept sending letters to William
Bentinck, ordering him to keep Suchet busy at all costs, by whatever
means might seem best to him[733]. It was not till July 16th that news
came that this danger had ended in the desired fashion, by Clausel’s
crossing the passes[734]. But whatever might happen in that direction,
there was still one point that had to be settled, before it could be
considered that the allied army was established on a satisfactory line
for defending the Spanish frontier and covering the sieges of St.
Sebastian and Pampeluna. The French were still in possession of the
Bastan, the high-lying valley of the Upper Bidassoa, through which
runs the main road from Pampeluna to Bayonne, by the Col de Velate,
and the pass of Maya. This last corner of Spain must be cleared of the
invaders, or the crest of the Pyrenees was not yet secure. Accordingly
arrangements were made for marching the main body of the British Army
to its destined positions through the Bastan, in order to sweep out the
lingering enemy.

A sufficient corps must be left to blockade Pampeluna: during the
operations against Clausel this duty had been discharged by Hill’s
and Silveira’s and Morillo’s troops. As these units had enjoyed five
days’ rest, while the remainder of the divisions had been marching
hard in eastern Navarre, it was arranged that they should give over
the service of the blockade by sections to the returning columns as
each came up. Wellington intended to transfer the whole affair in the
end to a Spanish force, the ‘Army of Reserve of Andalusia’ under Henry
O’Donnell, which had been occupied for the last week in the siege of
the forts of Pancorbo, after its very tardy arrival in the zone of
operations. King Joseph, when lying at Burgos, had thrown a garrison of
700 men into these forts, which command the high road to the Ebro, in
the vain hope of incommoding Wellington’s advance. But as the allied
army did not march by the Camino Real at all, but cut across by side
routes to Medina del Pomar, the precaution was useless, and cost the
enemy a battalion. However, it was necessary to clear the defile,
in order to open the easiest line of communication with Madrid, and
O’Donnell was directed to capture the forts on his way north to join
the main army. He invested them on June 25, and stormed the lower
and weaker fort of Santa Marta on the 28th. The upper fort of Santa
Engracia was a veritable eagle’s nest, on a most inaccessible position:
O’Donnell succeeded with great difficulty in getting six guns up to a
point on which they could bear on the work. But the reason why such
a strong post surrendered by capitulation two days later was not the
artillery fire, but mainly lack of water, the castle well having run
nearly dry, and partly the news of Vittoria. A small party of fugitives
who had escaped from the field by an incredible détour, corroborated
the claims made by the Spanish general when he summoned the place, and
the commandant (Major Durand of the 55th Line) surrendered with 650
men, 24 guns, and a good stock of ammunition on June 30th[735].

On getting these news Wellington, on July 2, ordered O’Donnell to come
up at once, and take over the blockade of Pampeluna, for which his
whole force of 11,000 men would not be too great. For the fortress was
large and strongly garrisoned. The King had brought up the number of
troops left to the Governor-General Cassan[736] to 3,600 men before
leaving the place, and there were over eighty guns mounted on the
walls, though two outlying forts in the plain had been abandoned.
Wellington allowed nine days for the orders to reach O’Donnell, and for
the Army of Reserve to make the long march from Pancorbo to Pampeluna:
as a matter of fact it took eleven. Meanwhile the fortress had to be
contained by troops from the main army, till the Andalusians should
come up--they were due on July 12th. The scheme adopted was that Hill
should collect the 2nd Division and Silveira’s Portuguese[737]--their
usual contingent of auxiliaries--on the north side of Pampeluna on July
1st, and march on July 2; the ground which he had held being taken
over by the Light 3rd and 7th Divisions, returning from the chase of
Clausel. On the 3rd the 7th Division was to be relieved by the 4th, and
to follow Hill. On the 5th the 6th Division (Clinton) would arrive, and
relieve the Light Division which would follow the 7th. The greater part
of the cavalry was to be left behind in the plains, being obviously
useless in the Pyrenees except in small parties for exploration; but
each of the marching divisions had a regiment attached to it.

The result of these arrangements was to leave three divisions (3rd,
4th, 6th), and nearly all the cavalry, for the blockade of Pampeluna--a
rather larger force than might have been expected[738]. Four divisions
(2nd, Light, 7th, and Silveira’s Portuguese) moved out to clear the
Bastan, and to establish communications with Graham’s corps on the
Lower Bidassoa. If the French had been in good fighting trim, four
divisions would have been none too many for the task, more especially
when it is remembered that they were advancing in three échelons,
each separated from the next by a long day’s march. But Wellington
reckoned that, although he had all Gazan’s and D’Erlon’s troops in
front of him--the presence of Reille’s on the Lower Bidassoa had
been reported by Graham--they would have no artillery (since it had
been lost at Vittoria), would be low in numbers, because they had
not yet gathered in their stragglers, and lower still in morale. His
estimate was on the whole justified, for the operation was successfully
carried out; but it did not go off quite so easily as had been
expected. It should be mentioned that, on the bare chance that the
French might make a movement from St. Jean-Pied-du-Port to disturb
the blockade of Pampeluna--an unlikely possibility--the 2nd Division
had detached Byng’s brigade to hold the pass of Roncesvalles, in
conjunction with Morillo’s Spanish division. Hill therefore, leading
the march towards the Bastan, had only three of his four brigades with
him--Cameron’s[739], O’Callaghan’s[740], and Ashworth’s Portuguese. The
total of the marching column, from front to rear, was about 22,000 men.

To understand the task set before Hill’s corps it is necessary to go
back to the arrangements--if arrangements they can be called, for they
were largely involuntary--made by the French Head-quarters Staff during
the preceding week. After Reille’s divisions had turned off towards the
Bidassoa, and D’Erlon’s had retreated into the Bastan, the main body
of the French Army--the four and a half infantry divisions of the Army
of the South, with its own cavalry and the bulk of that of the Army of
Portugal[741]--had taken the route of the Pass of Roncesvalles, and
reached St. Jean-Pied-du-Port, in a state of complete confusion (June
27), preceded by a vanguard of marauders several thousands strong, who
swept the countryside of cattle and corn just as freely after they
had reached France as while they were still in Navarre. Behind the
troops who had kept to their eagles followed a rearguard of footsore
stragglers and slightly wounded men, harassed till they came to the
frontier by bands of local guerrilleros. The whole mass was in a state
of demoralization: the French peasantry had to flee to the hills with
what they could carry--every house was plundered save those in which
a general or other officer of high rank had quartered himself[742].
St. Jean-Pied-du-Port was a small third-class fortress, garrisoned
by a battalion of National Guards, not an arsenal or a dépôt. It was
impossible to reorganize an army there, or even to feed it for a few
days. The Army of the South rolled back on June 29th to the valleys of
the Nivelle and Nive, so as to be near the great magazines of Bayonne,
which had always been the base from which the French forces in Spain
were supplied. There alone would it be possible to re-form it, and
to re-equip it with all the guns and transport necessary to replace
the losses of Vittoria. Gazan left one division--that of Conroux--at
St. Jean, to block the pass of Roncesvalles: with the other three
and a half divisions he arrived on July 1st at Ustaritz, St. Pée and
Espelette in the valleys of the Nive and Nivelle, only twelve or
fifteen miles from Bayonne. The cavalry was sent back still farther to
the line of the Adour.

Soon after this there was a great reduction made in the mounted arm.
Orders arrived from Germany that only the cavalry of the Army of the
South was to remain on the frontier. Boyer’s dragoons of the Army of
Portugal, Treillard’s dragoons of the Army of the Centre, and seven
light cavalry regiments of the Armies of Portugal and the North were
to start off at once[743]. Napoleon in his Saxon campaign had been
suffering bitterly from a want of good cavalry, and had directed the
King to send these veteran regiments across France with all speed,
whatever might be the state of affairs in Spain.

It is quite clear that if Wellington had chosen, on June 26th, to
follow Gazan across the Pyrenees, instead of turning aside to chase
Clausel, he could have done anything that he pleased with the enemy.
But this, for the reasons that we have detailed above--was not his game
for the moment. Hence the shattered Army of Spain had a few days in
which to commence reorganization. The easiest thing was the replacement
of the 151 cannon lost at Vittoria. Bayonne was a great artillery
storehouse, and the French gunners had brought away their teams, if
they had left all their pieces behind them. On July 6th General
Tirlet, the officer commanding the artillery of the united armies,
could report to the King that he had already served out 80 guns--33
each to the Armies of Gazan and Reille, 10 to the Army of the Centre,
and 4 to the mobile division of the Bayonne Reserve. By the end of the
month he promised to have 120 or even 150 pieces ready, which would
give every division its battery, as well as a good reserve. And these
pledges were fulfilled--with help from the arsenals of Toulouse, Blaye,
and La Rochelle. But the supply of caissons was for some time very low,
and the wheeled transport for the train was much more difficult to
procure, requisitions on the Pyrenean departments being difficult to
enforce, and slow to collect. As to food supply, the main difficulty
was that although there was a considerable accumulation of stores at
Bayonne, no one had ever contemplated the chance that 60,000 starving
men would be thrown on the resources of the dépôt in one mass. Much
flour was there, but not enough ovens to bake it, or wagons to carry
it to the troops lying fifteen or twenty miles out, on the Bidassoa or
the Nive. And these troops had lost all their own carts and fourgons.
Even as much as a month later the army, reorganized in other respects,
had not got enough transport to carry more than a few days’ food, as
Marshal Soult was to find.

King Joseph had left Pampeluna long before his troops, and taking a
short cut had reached St. Jean de Luz on June 28th, and set up his
last head-quarters there. He was painfully aware of the fact that his
great brother would in all probability visit upon his head all his
inevitable wrath for the results of the late campaign; but to the final
moment of his command he strove to exercise his authority, and busied
himself with the details of projected operations. He was at this moment
somewhat estranged from Marshal Jourdan, who had taken to his bed, and
kept complaining that the generals would neither give him information
nor take his orders, but confined themselves to making ill-natured
comments on the battle of Vittoria. The King, instead of relying on his
advice, asked council on all sides, and hovered between many opinions.

It is a sufficient proof of the incoherence of both Jourdan’s and
Joseph’s military ideas, that at this moment they were thinking
seriously of resuming the offensive and re-entering Spain. When
he received Clausel’s dispatches announcing his safe arrival at
Saragossa, and the possibility of his junction with Suchet, the King
was fascinated for the moment with the idea of bringing Wellington to
a stand, by attacking his flank and rear in Aragon. This could only
be done by sending large reinforcements to Clausel, and so weakening
the main army. The real objection to this plan was that the troops
were in no condition to march, or indeed to fight, till they should
have had time for rest and reorganization. Jourdan, however, drew up
on July 5--the very day on which Wellington was beginning to drive
Gazan out of the Bastan--as we shall presently see--a memoir for the
King’s consideration, which laid out three possible policies. One was
to advance with every unit that could move, against Graham, who was
wrongly supposed to have only one British division with him. The second
was to march to relieve Pampeluna by Roncesvalles, after first calling
in Clausel to help. The third was to accept the idea which lay at the
base of Clausel’s last dispatch, to leave 15,000 men on the Bidassoa
to detain Graham, and to move the rest of the army by the Jaca passes
into Aragon. It was conceded that artillery could not go that way, and
that Clausel had none with him--but some guns might be picked up at
Saragossa and from Suchet, and a very large body of troops would be
placed on Wellington’s flank. It is difficult to say which of the three
schemes was more impracticable for the moment, as a policy for the
starving and demoralized Army of Spain.

A more serious project, and one for which there would have been much to
say, if the French Army had been at this moment in a condition to feed
itself, or to manœuvre, or to commit itself to an action which would
involve the expenditure of more ammunition than the infantry could
carry in their pouches, was one for strengthening the front in the
Bastan. While this long valley was still retained, direct communication
between Wellington’s main body about Pampeluna and the large detachment
under Graham on the Bidassoa was blocked. But the Bastan was occupied
by the weakest section of the French forces, D’Erlon’s Army of the
Centre, one of whose infantry divisions (Darmagnac’s) had been ruined
at the battle of Vittoria, where it lost more men in proportion to its
strength than any other unit[744], while another--Casapalacios’ Spanish
division--was disappearing rapidly by desertion. There were only left,
in a condition to fight, the Royal Guards--a little over 2,000 men--and
Cassagne’s division, which had suffered no serious casualties in the
recent campaign. Clearly the Bastan and the numerous passes which
descend into it could not be held by 10,000 infantry, some of them in
very bad order, even though they might get some guns from the Bayonne
arsenal. Wherefore Joseph ordered D’Erlon to make over the defence of
the Bastan to the Army of the South, and to fall back to the line of
the Nivelle, where he should join Reille. Gazan was directed to take
over charge of this important salient, with the whole of his army, save
Conroux’s division left at St. Jean-Pied-du-Port[745] (July 3).

Gazan, who had only reached the Nive two days before, whose troops
had not yet recovered from the starvation which they had suffered in
the march from Pampeluna to Ustaritz and Espelette, who had lost his
transport, and who had not yet received the 33 guns which had been sent
him from Bayonne (though he was told that they were just coming up),
made objections very rational in themselves to these orders. He said
that his troops must have food and guns, or they could not be expected
to maintain their positions. He also remarked that it was exasperating
that he had not been told to march straight from St. Jean-Pied-du-Port
to the Bastan by the direct pass at Ispegui, instead of being brought
back two days’ march to the Nive, and then sent south again to the Maya
pass, only twelve miles from his starting-point[746].

Gazan started out, unwillingly and with many protests, from his
cantonments on the Nive on the morning of July 3, sending one of his
divisions, Leval’s, by the inferior mountain road from Sarre on the
Nivelle to Etchalar and Santesteban in the western Bastan, the rest
by the Maya pass to Elizondo, the chief road-centre in the eastern or
upper Bastan. From these points they were to spread themselves out,
and take over all the passes south and west from D’Erlon’s troops. The
commander of the Army of the Centre began to clear out his reserves
northwards, and to arrange for the rapid departure of each advanced
section, as it should be relieved by the arrival of Gazan’s divisions.
He met his colleague on the way, handed over the charge to him, and
then rode down to make his report to Jourdan at St. Pée (July 5), where
he dropped the cheering remark that if the Army of the South did not
receive very heavy convoys of food at once, it would go to pieces of
its own accord and quit the Bastan within a few days, as his own army
had eaten up the valley and no troops could live there[747].

Darmagnac’s division and the Royal Guard had been relieved by Leval,
while Cassagne’s first brigade was marching north by Elizondo, though
his second was still blocking the Col de Velate till Gazan’s troops
should arrive, when Wellington’s attack was delivered--at the most
opportune of moments. Nothing could have been better for him than that
the enemy should have been caught in the middle of an uncompleted
exchange of troops, before the incoming army had gained any knowledge
of the ground. Moreover, though Gazan had double as many men with him
as D’Erlon, they had not enjoyed the comparative rest which the Army
of the Centre had gained since June 26th, but had been countermarching
all the time, and were in a very dilapidated condition. Otherwise
there would have been much greater difficulty in driving them out of
the Bastan with the very moderate force that Wellington actually used.
For he was able to finish the business with four brigades--the three
of the 2nd Division and one of Silveira’s--which formed the head of
his column. Of the rear échelons, the 7th Division, which started from
Pampeluna on the 4th, got up only in time to see the very end of the
game, and the Light Division were never engaged at all.

At noon on July 4th Cameron’s Brigade[748], forming the advanced guard
of the 2nd Division, crossed the highest point of the Col de Velate,
and ran into half a battalion of the 16th Léger. This was the rearguard
of Braun’s brigade of Cassagne’s division, which was holding the
village of Berrueta, a few miles down the northern slope of the pass,
waiting till it should be relieved by Maransin’s division from Gazan’s
army. This detachment was evicted from Berrueta and Aniz, and fell back
on Ziga, where the other battalion of its regiment was in position.
That village also was cleared, but Hill’s leading brigade then found
itself in front of Maransin’s division marching rapidly up the road,
with other troops visible in a long column behind. Hill, seeing that he
was about to be involved in a serious fight with heavy numbers, began
to deploy the rear brigades of the 2nd Division behind the ravine in
front of Aniz, as each came up, abandoning the recently taken Ziga.
The French, in the same fashion, gradually formed a long line on their
side of the ravine, extending it eastward from the village and showing
two brigades in front line and two in reserve on the heights of Irurita
some way behind.

Hill appears to have felt the French front in several places, but to
have desisted on discovering its strength. Skirmishing of a bloodless
sort went on all the afternoon, each side waiting for its reserves to
come up. Before dusk Gazan had drawn in all Villatte’s division, which
had reached Santesteban earlier in the day, and the non-divisional
brigade of Gruardet, so that by night he had two complete divisions
and two extra brigades concentrated--at least 13,000 men[749]. Behind
Hill there was only Da Costa’s brigade of Silveira’s division, which
was a full march to the rear: for Wellington had ordered A. Campbell’s
brigade--the other half of the Portuguese division--to take a different
route, that up the Arga river by Zubiri to Eugui, which goes by a bad
pass (Col de Urtiaga) into the French valley of the Alduides.

Hill’s position was a distinctly unpleasant one, since he had
only three brigades up in line, with another out of any reasonable
supporting distance, if the enemy should think fit to press in upon
him. The 7th Division was two marches away, while the Light Division
was still before Pampeluna; both were altogether out of reach. Owing to
heavy losses at Vittoria, the three second division brigades can hardly
have numbered 6,000 bayonets[750]. Their commander very wisely waited
for the arrival of Wellington from the rear. Head-quarters that day had
been at Lanz, on the road from Pampeluna to the Col de Velate.

The Commander-in-Chief came up at about midday on the 5th, following in
the wake of Da Costa’s Portuguese, who were bringing up with them two
batteries of artillery--the first guns that either side had shown in
the Bastan. After looking at the French positions Wellington resolved
to push on--this was a purely psychological resolve, for his numbers
did not justify any such a move; he relied on his estimate of the
morale of Gazan, and that estimate turned out to be perfectly correct.

Hill’s operations, till Wellington took over charge of the field, had
been limited to cautious reconnaissances of the enemy’s flanks. But
with the change in command decisive action began: Cameron’s brigade
was sent out by the steep hillsides on the right to turn Gazan’s
left flank; O’Callaghan’s, with Ashworth’s Portuguese in support,
crossed the ravine in front of Aniz, and deployed on each side of
the road to attack his centre. If Gazan had stood to fight, and
brought up all his reserves, it is hard to see how he could have been
moved: indeed he ought to have scored a big success if he had dared
to counter-attack--for Wellington had no reserves save Da Costa’s
Portuguese brigade. But, like Murray at Tarragona, the French general
had been making himself dreadful pictures of the strength that might
conceivably be in front of him. Three prisoners taken at Ziga on the
preceding day had told him that they belonged to Hill’s corps--he
presumed it complete in front of him, with all its six brigades,
instead of the actual three. Then a heavy column had come up at
noon--Da Costa’s brigade--Gazan judged it to be some fresh division
from Pampeluna. In addition he had received a cry of alarm from Conroux
at St. Jean-Pied-du-Port--that officer reported that on July 4 a
Spanish corps was threatening his flank from the Val Carlos--this was
no more than a reconnaissance thrown out by Morillo. Also he got news
from the Alduides valley of the arrival of A. Campbell’s Portuguese
brigade at Eugui--he deduced from this information, joined to the
report about Morillo, a turning movement against his left flank, by
forces of unknown but probably considerable strength. Lastly, by
drawing in Villatte’s division to his main body, he had left open a gap
on his right, between his own positions in front of Elizondo and those
of Leval at Santesteban. He was seized with a panic fear lest another
British column might pour into this gap, by the mountain roads leading
from Lanz and Almandoz into the middle Bastan[751]. And, indeed,
Wellington had started the 7th Division on one of these passes, the
Puerto de Arraiz--but it was still 20 miles away.

Already on the night of the 4th Gazan had written to the King that
he must ask for leave to make his stand at the Maya pass, rather
than to hold all the minor defiles which converge into the Bastan--a
complicated system of tracks whose defence involved a terrible
dissemination of forces. By noon on the 5th, having seen Wellington’s
arrival with Da Costa’s brigade, he made up his mind that if the
enemy attacked him frontally it must be to engage his attention,
while encircling columns closed in upon his flanks and rear, from the
Alduides on the one side and the western passes on the other. When
the movement against his front began, his troops in the position by
Ziga retired, without waiting to receive the attack, and took cover
behind Villatte’s division, drawn up on the heights of Irurita. Hill
had to spend time in re-forming his lines before he could resume the
offensive; but when he did so against Villatte’s troops, they gave
way in turn, and retired behind Maransin’s division, which was now
placed above the village of Elizondo. In this way the enemy continued
to retire by échelons, without allowing the pursuers to close,
until by dusk he stood still at last at the Col de Maya, where he
offered battle. Gazan was extremely well satisfied with himself, and
considered that he had made a masterly retreat in face of overwhelming
hostile forces. As a matter of fact he had been giving way, time after
time, to mere demonstrations by a force of little more than half his
own strength--four weak brigades were pushing back his six. But he
never made a long enough stand to enable him to discover the very
moderate strength of the pursuers. The whole business was a field
day exercise--the total casualties only reached a few scores on each
side. Gazan’s elaborate narrative about the various occasions on which
British vanguards were surprised to run into heavy fire, suffered
heavily, and had to halt, find its best comment in the fact that the
total loss of English and Portuguese during three days of petty combats
was only 5 officers and 119 men, and that this day, July 5, was the
least bloody of the three.

Well satisfied to have manœuvred the enemy out of the Bastan without
any appreciable loss to himself, Wellington accepted the challenge
which the Army of the South offered him by halting on the Maya
positions. But he waited for the 7th Division to come up, rightly
thinking that the two British and two Portuguese brigades hitherto
employed were too weak a force, now that the enemy showed signs of
making his final stand. The 7th Division, acting under the senior
brigadier, Barnes, for Lord Dalhousie had been left behind to conduct
the blockade of Pampeluna, had marched on the 4th, the day when
Hill was commencing to push the French north of the Col de Velate.
Wellington had intended from the first that it should take a route
which would enable it to turn Gazan’s right: it went north from
Marcalain, where it had concentrated on giving up its blockading work,
by Lizaso, to the pass of Arraiz, by which it descended into the Bastan
on the 6th. It then occupied Santesteban, from which Leval’s division
had been withdrawn by Gazan at the same moment at which he fell
back himself on to the pass of Maya. Pending its arrival Wellington
remained halted in front of the French positions for the whole of the
6th, filling the enemy with various unjustifiable fears; for they
over-valued his strength, and credited him with much more ambitious
projects than those which he really entertained. This halt on the 6th
seemed to them to cover some elaborate snare, while its real purpose
was only to allow him to make his next move with 14,000 instead of with
8,000 men. The plan for the morning of the 7th was that Hill’s column
should attack the Maya positions in front, while the 7th Division
should cross the Bidassoa at Santesteban, and take a mountain road
which would bring it out upon the flank of Gazan’s line, which rested
on the Peak of Atchiola. This would be a hard day’s march by a rough
track, along interminable crests and dips. Meanwhile, on July 8th,
another British unit would come up: the Light Division was relieved at
Pampeluna by the 4th Division on the 5th, and following in the track of
Barnes, Charles Alten was to be at Santesteban on the night of the 7th,
and at the fighting front by the next morning.

The halt which Wellington imposed on his leading column upon July
6th gave time for the French Higher Command to make an astounding
series of blunders. To discriminate between true and false reports is
one of the most difficult tasks for any general, and the faculty of
making a correct decision after receiving a number of contradictory
data is undoubtedly one of the best tests of military ability. All
men may err--but greater errors have seldom been made in a day than
those of Jourdan and King Joseph on July 6th. They started, perhaps
naturally, with the leading idea that Wellington was about to undertake
the invasion of France on a grand scale. Where would the blow fall?
Graham had been quiescent for some days on the Bidassoa, and it was
obvious that the troops on his front were mainly Spaniards--the Army
of Galicia and Longa’s Cantabrians were alone visible. Gazan, though
making constant complaints that he was outnumbered and oppressed
by a ‘triple force’, had not as yet accounted for anything but
Hill’s corps as present in his front. Where, then, was the rest of
Wellington’s army? The concentration of troops in front of Pampeluna
had been ascertained--what had become of them? Now Conroux at St.
Jean-Pied-du-Port kept sending in messages of alarm. Morillo’s
reconnaissances had induced him to push most of his division forward
to watch the passes in his front, and he reported Byng’s brigade
at Roncesvalles as a considerable accumulation of British troops.
Then came the news that A. Campbell’s Portuguese brigade had entered
the Alduides valley, by descending which it could cut in between
Conroux and the rest of the army. Probably it was the over-emphasis of
Conroux’s cries of warning which set the King and Jourdan wrong--but
whatever the cause, they jumped to the conclusion that the serious
invasion was to come on the inland flank--that Byng and Campbell were
the forerunners of a great force marching to turn their left, by
Roncesvalles and the eastern passes. Acting on this utterly erroneous
hypothesis, they issued a series of orders for the hasty transference
of great bodies of troops towards St. Jean-Pied-du-Port. Leval’s
division of the Army of the South--which had retired to Echalar after
evacuating Santesteban--Cassagne’s and Darmagnac’s divisions of the
Army of the Centre--which had handed over the Bastan to Gazan and
retired to St. Pée--and Thouvenot’s provisional division of troops of
the Army of the North[752], from the Lower Bidassoa, were all started
off by forced marches to join Conroux at St. Jean-Pied-du-Port. Only
Reille with the four divisions of the Army of Portugal was left to
face Graham[753], and Gazan was directed to hold the Maya positions
with Maransin’s and Villatte’s divisions and Gruardet’s brigade alone.
Thus, while Wellington was about to deliver his rather leisurely blow
at the French centre, all the enemy’s reserves were sent off to their
extreme left. Nothing could have been more convenient to the British
general, if he had attacked one or two days later on the Maya front,
when the troops on the move would all have got past him on their way
south-eastward. But as he made his assault the day after the King’s
orders were issued, it resulted that the marching columns were passing
just behind the part of the enemy’s line at which he was aiming, so
that Gazan had more supports at hand than might have been expected.
But this was neither to the credit of the King, who had not intended
to provide them, nor to the discredit of Wellington, who could not
possibly have foreseen such strategical errors as those in which his
enemy was indulging.

On the morning of July 7th Gazan was in battle order at Maya, with
Maransin’s division and Gruardet’s brigade holding the pass, and the
heights on each side of it from the hill of Alcorrunz on the west to
the rock of Aretesque on the east. Villatte’s division (commanded on
this day by its senior brigadier, Rignoux, for Villatte was sick)
formed the reserve, on the high road to Urdax, behind the main crest.
Wellington’s simple form of attack was to send O’Callaghan’s brigade to
turn the French left by a mountain road, Cameron’s brigade to seize the
peak of Atchiola beyond his extreme right, so as to outflank Gazan on
that side, to demonstrate with the Portuguese and his two batteries in
the centre, and to wait for the crucial moment when the 7th Division,
on the march since the morning by the hill road from Santesteban to
Urdax, should appear in the enemy’s rear. Then a general assault would
take place.

The scheme did not work out accurately. The Portuguese demonstrated, as
was ordered. O’Callaghan’s brigade accomplished its turning movement,
and got into contact with Remond’s brigade of Maransin’s division, on
the extreme French left at the rock of Aretesque. Cameron’s brigade
took the hill of Alcorrunz without difficulty, but was then held up
by the bulk of Villatte’s division, which came up from the rear and
held the crest of the Atchiola with six battalions; it could not be
dislodged. So far so good--the enemy was engaged all along the line and
had used up three-fourths of his reserve. But early in the afternoon a
dense fog set in, and the 7th Division never appeared in the enemy’s
rear. It had got involved in the darkness, lost its way, and wandered
helpless. Wherefore the other attacks were never pressed. ‘If the 7th
Division had arrived in time, and the sea fog had held off for an hour
or two, we should have made a good thing of it,’ wrote Wellington to
Graham[754]. ‘Our loss is about 60 wounded--on the other days; (4th and
5th) there was a good deal of firing, but we sustained no loss at all.’

Early on the morning of July 8 Gazan, after having written a most
insincere report concerning the skirmish of the preceding day, _combat
des plus opiniâtres_, in which he had checked the enemy with loss,
abandoned the Maya positions before he was again attacked. He had
the impudence to write to Jourdan that he had only recoiled because
Head-Quarters refused to send him any supports[755]. As a matter of
fact the King had checked the progress of the troops marching to St.
Jean-Pied-du-Port, and was sending them straight to Urdax and Ainhoue,
where all the four divisions arrived on the 8th, early in the day.
If Gazan had chosen to hold on to the pass he would have had 15,000
men added to his strength by the evening. But he went off at 6 a.m.,
and Hill occupied the crest an hour later. Wellington was so far
from intending any further advance that he wrote that afternoon to
Graham that he was now at leisure to take a look at the whole line of
the Bidassoa down to the sea, and intended to pay his lieutenant a
visit. A day later he told Lord Bathurst that ‘the whole of our right
being now established on the frontier, I am proceeding to the left to
superintend the operations there’--which meant in the main the siege of
St. Sebastian. The troops which had been brought up to the Bastan took
up permanent quarters--the Light Division at Santesteban, the 7th at
Elizondo, Hill’s two British brigades at the Maya positions, to which
artillery was brought up, while Ashworth’s and Da Costa’s Portuguese
were set to guard the minor eastern passes which open from the Bastan
into the Alduides, or Val de Baygorri--the Col d’Ispegui and the Col
de Berderis. They connected themselves with A. Campbell’s Portuguese
brigade, which watched the southern exit from that long French valley.
Campbell, for his part, had to keep touch along the frontier with
Byng and Morillo in the Roncesvalles country. The 3rd, 4th, and 6th
Divisions still lay round Pampeluna, anxiously expecting to be relieved
by the Army of Reserve of Andalusia. But Henry O’Donnell, though
due on the 12th, did not appear and take over the blockade till the
16th-17th. This delay began to worry Wellington a few days later,
but on the 8th-9th he was still content with the position of affairs,
rightly judging that the enemy was in no condition to make a push in
any direction, till he should have got his troops rested, his artillery
replaced, and his transport reorganized.

Otherwise he could not have taken so lightly the fact that opposite the
Maya positions the enemy had now accumulated six and a half divisions,
expecting to be attacked by columns descending from the Bastan within
the next few days. Joseph and Jourdan spent an immense amount of
unnecessary pains in the hurried shifting of troops, during the short
space that intervened before the thunderbolt which was coming from
Germany fell on their unlucky heads. But who, in their position, could
have guessed that a mainly political consideration was intervening,
to prevent Wellington from undertaking that invasion of France which
seemed his obvious military duty?

One last measure of precaution on their adversary’s part modified
the front at the end of the petty campaign of the Bastan--but by
that time Joseph and Jourdan were gone. On July 15th Wellington made
up his mind that the defensive position on the lower Bidassoa, by
which he was covering the siege of St. Sebastian, was not safe on
its inland flank, where the French were still in possession of the
town of Vera, at the gorge of the Bidassoa, where it emerges from its
high upland course in the Bastan. Vera and its bridge presented an
obvious point of concentration for a force intending to trouble the
right wing of Graham’s corps. Wherefore it was necessary to clear the
enemy out of this point of vantage, and to shorten the line between
Hill in the Bastan and Giron on the lower Bidassoa. Uncertain as to
whether the French would make a serious stand or not, Wellington
ordered up large forces--the 7th Division and the newly-arrived Light
Division from Santesteban, Longa, and one brigade of Giron’s Galicians
from the covering troops. But the enemy--Lamartinière’s division of
Reille’s army--offered only a rearguard action, and withdrew to the
other side of the hills which separate the Bastan from the coast
region--abandoning the ‘Puertos’ or passes of Vera and Echalar. They
feared that the advance of the allied left centre might be the
prelude to a general attack, and began to make preparations to receive
it. But their anxiety disappeared when it became clear that Wellington
only wanted Vera and its defile, and had no further offensive purpose.
The Light Division occupied Vera: the 7th, extending to the right, took
over the pass of Echalar and got into touch with Hill’s advanced guard
at Maya.

[Illustration: _King Joseph at Mortefontaine_

_from the portrait by Girardet_]

SECTION XXXVII: CHAPTER V

EXIT KING JOSEPH

While Wellington was pressing his victorious advance to the Ebro, the
Emperor Napoleon had been so entirely engrossed in the management of
his own great campaign in Saxony that he had little or no time to
spare for considering the affairs of Spain. King Joseph had continued
to receive dispatches from Paris, which purported to set forth his
brother’s orders and commands. But, as he well knew, they were really
the compositions of the War-Minister Clarke, who, from the general
directions which the Emperor had left when departing for Germany,
and such curt comments as intermittently came back from Dresden or
Wittenberg, used to construct lectures or critical essays, which he
tried to make appropriate to the last news that came up from Spain. The
original instructions were completely out of date, and no new general
scheme of operations could be got out of Napoleon, who could only find
time to make commentaries of a caustic kind on any correspondence
that came from beyond the Pyrenees[756]. Clarke’s dispatches to the
King were quite useless, and they were often offensive in tone--it is
clear that the minister took a personal pleasure in making sarcastic
observations on the conduct of the war in Spain, which he could foist
on King Joseph as his brother’s composition. They generally arrived
at moments which made them particularly absurd reading--what could be
more annoying to the King than to be told that Wellington’s Army was
a wreck, and that there was little chance of the Allies taking the
offensive, at the very moment when the French Head-Quarters was moving
ever northward, pushed on by what seemed in the eyes of Joseph and
Jourdan to be overwhelming numbers? It was absurd to be given hints
on the defence of the Douro when the retreating host was already on
the Ebro, or lectures on the advantages of the line of the Ebro, when
the Pyrenees had already been crossed. The habit of Clarke, however,
which most irritated the King, was that of corresponding directly
with the minor army-commanders in Spain, over the head of the nominal
commander-in-chief[757]. Joseph held very strongly to the opinion that
a main part of his disasters was due to Clarke’s dispatches to Clausel
and Suchet, which gave those generals excellent excuses for ignoring
orders from Head-Quarters, and carrying out their own designs, under
pretence that they were more consonant with the Emperor’s intentions
than the directions which came to them from Madrid, Valladolid, or
Burgos.

But the Emperor’s attention was at last attracted to Spain by a
disaster which could not be overlooked, or ignored as a passing worry.
The news of Vittoria reached him at Dresden on July 1--nine days
after the battle had been lost--forwarded by Clarke with imperfect
details. For the minister could only transmit a second-hand narrative
written by Foy, who had not been present at the battle, and Joseph’s
first short note from Yrurzun, dated July 23rd, which concealed much
and told little. There was, however, enough information to rouse the
Emperor to wild rage. He had three weeks before (June 4) concluded the
armistice of Plässwitz with the allied sovereigns, so that he was not
entirely absorbed in the details of his own strategy, and could at
last find time to devote some attention to the affairs of Spain, whose
consideration he had been putting off from week to week all through
the last two months. His own situation was still perilous enough--he
was uncertain whether he could come to terms with Russia and Prussia,
despite of his recent victories. And the idea that Austria might be
meaning mischief, and not merely playing for the enviable position of
general arbitrator between the belligerents, was already present. But
at least he was not wholly occupied by the strategical and tactical
needs of each day, and could turn to contemplate the Spanish campaign
as part of the European crisis. The exasperating thing was not so much
that the Imperial arms had suffered a hideous affront, though this
was a not unimportant consideration, which might encourage Alexander
and Frederick William III to renew the war. It was rather that the
position of Spain, as a counter in the negotiations which were going
on at Prague, was completely changed. On May 25th the Franco-Spanish
kingdom of Joseph Bonaparte made an imposing appearance--Madrid was
still occupied, and a solid block of territory from the Esla to the
Guadalaviar--more than half the Peninsula--showed on the map as part
of the Napoleonic empire. On July 1 it was known that the King was a
fugitive on the French border, that the Castiles, Leon, Navarre, and
Biscay had all been lost, that Valencia would certainly, and Aragon
probably, go the same way within a week or two. The pretence that
Joseph was King of Spain had suddenly become absurd. In continuing
the hagglings at Prague for a new European settlement, it would be
ludicrous to insist on the restoration to Madrid of a king whose only
possessions beyond the Pyrenees were a few scattered fortresses. For
Catalonia, it must be remembered, did not count as part of Joseph’s
kingdom; it had been formally annexed to France by the iniquitous
decree of February 1812[758].

It was a bitter blow to the new Charlemagne to see the largest of his
vassal-kingdoms suddenly torn from him, by a stroke dealt by an enemy
whom he affected to despise, while his attention had been distracted
for the moment to the Elbe and the Oder. The unexampled rapidity of
the campaign of Vittoria was astounding--there was nothing to compare
with it in recent military history, save his own overrunning of the
Prussian monarchy in the autumn of 1806. Wellington’s army had crossed
the Tormes on May 26th--by June 26th King Joseph was a fugitive in
France, and the main French Army of Spain was pouring back as a
disorganized rabble across the passes of the Pyrenees. The whole affair
seemed incredible--even ludicrous[759]--the armies of King Joseph still
appeared on the imperial muster-rolls as well over 100,000 strong, not
including Suchet’s forces on the East Coast. It was only a month or so
back that the Emperor had been comforting himself with the idea that
Wellington could not put 40,000 British troops in the field, and was
no longer a serious danger[760]. Obviously the only explanation of the
disaster must be colossal incapacity in the French Higher Command in
Spain, amounting to criminal negligence. That there might be another
explanation, viz. that a war could not be successfully conducted in
those pre-telegraphic days by orders sent from five hundred miles
away, by dispatches liable to constant delay or loss, and by a
commander-in-chief much distracted by other business, hardly occurred
to him[761]. His own system of managing the affairs of Spain, as has
been set forth in many earlier pages of this book[762], was really the
source of all evil. His nominal transference of the supreme command
to King Joseph had been a solemn farce, because he still permitted
interference by the minister at Paris, acting in his name, tolerated
private reports from army-commanders, which were concealed from the
King, and refused to allow of the punishment of flagrant instances of
disobedience to his vicegerent’s commands.

This perhaps the Emperor could hardly be expected to see. The news of
Vittoria having arrived, a culprit had to be sought, and the culprit
was obviously King Joseph, who with a magnificent army at his disposal,
and a good military situation, had allowed himself to be turned
out of Spain by a contemptible enemy. It went for nothing that the
unfortunate monarch had repeatedly asked for leave to abdicate, and had
demonstrated again and again that he was not allowed the real authority
of a commander-in-chief. The blame must be laid on his shoulders, and
he must be disgraced at once--not with too great public scandal, for
after all he was the Emperor’s brother--but in the manner which would
prove most wounding to his own feelings. ‘All the fault was his ...
if there was one man wanting in the army it was a real general, and
if there was one man too many with the army it was the King[763].’
Clarke was told to write to him a dispatch which not only superseded
him in command, and deprived him of even the services of his own Royal
Guard, but put him under a sort of arrest. He was on no account to go
to Paris. ‘The importance of the interests that are at stake in the
North, and the effect that your Majesty’s appearance could not fail to
produce on public opinion--both in Europe at large and more especially
in France--are so great, that the Emperor is constrained to issue
his formal orders that your Majesty should stop at Pampeluna or St.
Sebastian, or at least come no further than Bayonne.... Extraordinary
precautions have been taken to prevent the newspapers from mentioning
either the event of June 21st [the battle of Vittoria], or the
Emperor’s decision concerning your Majesty.... It is at Bayonne, where
the Emperor foresees that your Majesty has probably arrived, that
his further intentions will be signified, when he has acquired full
information as to the recent events. It is his definite order that your
Majesty should come no further into France, nor most especially to
Paris, under any pretext whatever. For the same reasons no officer of
your Majesty’s suite, and none of the Spanish exiles, must come beyond
the Garonne. They may be directed to establish themselves at Auch.’

But though this was bad enough, the greatest insult in King Joseph’s
eyes was that he was directed to hand over the command of the army and
his own Guards to his old enemy Soult, whose expulsion from Spain he
had procured with so much difficulty, and whom he had denounced to the
Emperor as selfish, disloyal, disobedient, and perjured, ‘the author
of that infamous letter found at Valencia[764]’ which had accused
the King of conspiring with the Cadiz Cortes against the interests
of his own brother. When Soult had returned from Spain the Emperor
had decided that all the accusations against him were frivolous, ‘des
petitesses.’ He might not be an amiable character--how many of the
marshals were?--but he had ‘the only military brain in the Peninsula’.
He was not given the command of any of the army corps in Saxony, nor
any administrative post of importance, but kept at Head-Quarters,
at the Emperor’s disposition, for two whole months. Apparently even
before the news of Vittoria arrived, his master had thought of sending
him back to Spain, but had postponed the scheme, because he did not
desire an open breach with his brother. But when Joseph’s _débâcle_
was announced, the Marshal received orders to leave Dresden at a few
hours’ notice, to call upon Clarke at Paris on the way, in order to
pick up the latest military information, and then to assume the command
at Bayonne at the earliest possible moment. He was posted up in all the
Emperor’s latest political and military schemes--even, as it seems,
entrusted with the secret that if matters went very badly it might be
necessary to open secret negotiations with the Cadiz Regency, on the
base that the Emperor might restore Ferdinand VII to his subjects, and
withdraw all his troops from Spain, if the Cortes could be persuaded
to make a separate peace, and to repudiate the British alliance[765].
It seems to have escaped Napoleon’s observation that the return of the
ultra-conservative and narrow-minded Ferdinand would be the last thing
desired by the Liberal party now dominant in the Cortes. But all the
disappointments of the treaty of Valençay were still in the far future.

Among the instructions entrusted to Soult, for use if they should prove
necessary, was a warrant authorizing him to put Joseph under arrest,
if he should openly flout his brother’s orders to halt at Bayonne,
and should show any intention of setting out for Paris. This warrant
had actually to be employed--the most maddening insult of all in the
eyes of the King--it made his treacherous enemy into his jailer, as he
complained.

Joseph received the first notice of his supersession from the mouth
of the Senator Roederer, who had been sent off by Clarke a few hours
in advance of Soult, in order that there might not be any scandalous
scene, such as might have occurred if the Marshal had presented himself
in person to inform the King of his fate. Roederer had served under
Joseph as King of Naples, was friendly to him, and broke the unpleasant
tidings as tactfully as he could. The results were what might have
been expected--the unfortunate monarch said that he had realized that
he must go, that he was already drafting another act of abdication.
But it was an insult to send Soult to take over the command, after
all the proofs of the Marshal’s perversity and disloyalty which he
had forwarded to the Emperor. He did not object to being deposed,
or imprisoned, or put on his trial for treason, but he did object to
being made the prisoner of Soult. ‘As often as he got on this topic his
Majesty grew quite frantic[766].’

But when Soult presented himself next morning there was no scene.
The King handed him over his papers and dispatches, and said that he
intended to establish himself in a country house just outside the gates
of Bayonne (July 12). Three days later, however, he made a sudden and
secret departure, and was well on the way to Bagnères de Bigorre before
his escape was discovered. He had to be pursued, stopped by force, and
shown the imperial warrant which authorized Soult to put him under
arrest. For eight days he was a prisoner at the Château of Poyanne,
when a dispatch arrived from Dresden, in which the Emperor said that
he might be allowed to retire to his own estate of Mortefontaine, on
condition that he saw no one, and never visited Paris [July 24]. If he
should make himself a centre of intrigues, and should fail to realize
that he was in disgrace, the Minister of Police had orders to imprison
him[767].

And thus Joseph disappears from the purview of students of the
Peninsular War, though he was to have one more short moment of
notoriety in the following spring, when he was made the nominal head
of the Council of Regency, which purported to govern France for a few
weeks, before the Northern Allies forced their way into the French
capital. He did not shine in that capacity, and would have done better
to content himself with escaping the notice of the world in the
semi-captivity to which his brother had condemned him in July 1813. But
Joseph, however much he might deny the impeachment, loved a prominent
place, however incapable he might be of filling it in a competent
fashion.

This, indeed, is the secret of his whole unfortunate career. The chance
which made him the brother of Napoleon put within his grasp ambitions
with which his very moderate talents could not cope. He was by no
means a bad man: the Spaniards would gladly have drawn him as a tyrant
or a monster, if it had been possible to do so; but had to content
themselves with representing him as a ludicrous and contemptible
character, ‘Pepe Botellas’[768], a comic-opera king, too much addicted
to wine and women, and tricked by his courtiers and mistresses. There
seems no reason to suppose that the charge of inebriety had any
particular foundation; but Joseph--long separated from his wife by
the chances of war--undoubtedly sought consolations in more than one
other quarter at Madrid. His amatory epistles and souvenirs, captured
in his carriage at Vittoria, provoked a smile and a caustic remark
from Wellington. As to the taunt that he was continually cheated and
exploited by those about him, there is no doubt that the unfortunate
King was possessed of the delusion that his personal charm and affable
manners won all hearts; he wasted much time in cajoling every person of
any importance with whom he came in contact, and had many sad moments
of disillusion, when he discovered that supposed friends had failed
him. His most persistent and dangerous error was that he imagined that
he could win over the Spaniards to his cause, by generous treatment and
emotional speeches. For years he went on enlisting in his ‘national
army’ every prisoner who was willing to save himself a tramp to a
French prison, by taking an easy oath of allegiance. When given arms
and uniforms they deserted: first and last Joseph enlisted 60,000
Spaniards in his leaky regiments--about 1,500 crossed the Bidassoa with
him at the moment of his fall. With those above the rank and file he
was a little more successful, because officers and politicians were
marked men, when once they had risked their necks by forswearing their
allegiance to Ferdinand VII. They knew that there would be no such easy
pardon for them as was granted to the common soldier. There had been
moments of intense depression for the Spanish cause, such as those
following the capture of Madrid in December 1808, and the invasion of
Andalusia in 1810, at which many timid or selfish souls had despaired
of the game, and had taken service with the adversary. Having once done
so it was impossible to go back--hence the King, when his star began to
wane, was overloaded with hundreds, and even thousands, of downhearted
and pessimistic dependants, who had no faith in his ultimate triumph,
yet still hung on to his skirts, and petitioned for the doles which
he was no longer able to give them. Few served him zealously--those
who did were in the main adventurers as destitute of morality as of
national feeling, who strove for their own profit rather than their
master’s--his prefects and intendants had villainous reputations for
the most part.

Though vain and self-confident, Joseph was entirely lacking in
backbone--he endured all the Emperor’s insults and taunts without any
real feeling of resentment, though he protested loudly enough. Unlike
his brothers, Lucien and Louis, he never dared to set his will against
Napoleon’s--his threatened abdications never became realities. He
pretended that his submission was the result of loyalty and brotherly
affection--in reality he had an insufficient sense of righteous
indignation and self-respect, and an exaggerated love of royalty--even
of its shadow. An intelligent French observer summed up his character
in the following curious phrases:

‘The King’s most striking characteristic is his easy temper. It does
not come from a generous heart or a real magnanimity, but from a facile
disposition and a total absence of decision. He has not the courage to
refuse to do things which his own reason condemns, and is often guilty
of acts which he himself acknowledges to be unwise. At bottom he is an
honest man, but he has not the firmness to maintain his principles if
he is pressed and harried. Tiresome solicitation may induce him to cast
aside principle and act like a rogue. His greatest hobby is a belief in
his own _finesse_--a great perspicacity in discovering the secret and
selfish motives of those about him. He often gives them credit for more
Machiavellian ingenuity than they really possess. He does not always
withdraw his favour from those whom he has discovered cheating him,
but rejoices in making them feel that he has found out their private
designs. He is incapable of owning that he has done an injustice:
when he discovers that he has wronged one of his followers, he shirks
meeting him, and tries to get rid of him by circuitous methods. Hence
he often persists in acts of injustice, because he is ashamed of
confessing himself to have been mistaken.’

The natural result of this lack of moral backbone was that Joseph was
systematically disobeyed and cheated. Very little was to be feared
from his anger, much could be got by threatening or worrying him. It
is true that he was much handicapped by the constant interference
of the Emperor, and even of the French Minister of War, in all his
attempts to create a Spanish administration, and to co-ordinate the
efforts of the various armies in the Peninsula. Nevertheless there
was much truth in his brother’s savage comments on his character--‘he
cannot get himself obeyed’--‘he has neither military talent nor
administrative ability’--‘he does not know how to draw up accounts’--he
‘cannot command an army himself, but he can prevent other and more
competent people from doing so’--‘the greatest moral error is to take
up a profession which one does not understand: that the King was not
a professional soldier was not his fault, but he was responsible for
trying to be one[769].’ To this last and perfectly just remark Joseph
could have made an unanswerable reply, by asking who was responsible
for the promotion of a person who was not, and never could be, a
professional soldier, to the post of Commander-in-Chief of all the
Armies of Spain.

It is only fair to concede to this unlucky prince his good qualities:
he was never cruel--no usurper ever shed so little blood: he was
a good master to many ungrateful servants: he was courteous and
considerate, liberal so far as his scanty means allowed, and interested
in literature and art. Unfortunately his artistic tastes brought him
only ridicule. He was greatly given to pulling down slums and eyesores
in Madrid, but never had the money to replace them by the stately
buildings which he had designed--his good intentions were only shown
by empty spaces--whence the people called him _El rey Plazuelos_. This
was rather to his credit than otherwise--less so the interest in art
shown by his eleventh-hour pilfering of the best pictures of the Madrid
Galleries, of which Wellington recaptured a selection at Vittoria.
To sum him up in a single phrase, Joseph Bonaparte was the mildest
mannered man who ever stole a crown--or rather acted as receiver of a
crown stolen by his ruthless brother.

With King Joseph his Chief-of-the-Staff went into the depths of
disgrace. Napoleon wrote that he never wanted to hear of Jourdan
again. He must go into complete retirement at his estate of Coudray
near Orleans. He was cut down to the strictest minimum of retired
pay--not over 20,000 francs a year[770], which left him in miserable
straits--for he had a large family, and he was honest, and had never
feathered his nest like other marshals. The only notice to be taken of
him was that he was to be ordered to draw up a memorandum explaining
how the battle of Vittoria had been fought and lost--if any explanation
were possible[771]. But Napoleon, when he pardoned Joseph a few months
later, pardoned Jourdan also. He was given the command of the Rouen
Military District, where he did competent administrative work in the
spring of 1814, so far as his broken health permitted. It is surprising
to find that, with all his ailments, this worthy old officer--the
Cassandra of the great drama of 1812-13--survived till 1833, when he
died, after having been for many years Governor of the Invalides.
His military memoirs, first published in a scattered and incomplete
form in Ducasse’s _Life and Correspondence of Joseph Bonaparte_, and
afterwards in a better shape so late as 1908, form one of the best
critical commentaries on the Peninsular War. As a purveyor of hard
truths concerning his imperial master, and the marshals who were his
colleagues in Spain, Jourdan has no rival.

SECTION XXXVIII

THE BATTLES OF THE PYRENEES

CHAPTER I

THE SIEGE OF ST. SEBASTIAN. FIRST PERIOD

Having pushed his whole front line up to the French border, from Giron
at Irun, hard by the ocean, to Byng, far inland on the watershed of the
historic Pass of Roncesvalles, Wellington turned his attention to the
siege of St. Sebastian, on which he intended to press hard and rapidly,
while Pampeluna was to be left for the present to the slower process
of blockade and starvation. He had no intention of pushing forward
into France till the result of the negotiations in Germany should be
known. He was kept informed of the doings at Dresden from time to time,
but occasionally bad weather in the Bay of Biscay delayed the courier
from Downing Street, and there was an interval of many days, during
which the absence of political information began to cause him anxiety.
On the whole, as he was informed, it was probable that the war would
be renewed; but the intentions of Austria were still suspect, and the
danger of a separate peace in the North never ceased to disturb him
until hostilities actually recommenced in the middle of August. On
July 10th he had still many weeks to wait, before the news arrived
that Metternich had broken with Napoleon--after a certain famous and
stormy interview--and that Austria had come into the Grand Alliance.
Meanwhile he intended to make his defensive position on the Pyrenean
frontier sure, by the capture of the fortresses. It is curious to note
that Napoleon understood and approved from the military point of view
of this policy. On Aug. 5 he wrote to his minister Maret from Dresden,
‘it is certain that Lord Wellington had a very sensible scheme: he
wished to take St. Sebastian and Pampeluna before the French Army could
be reorganized. He supposed that it had suffered more heavily than was
actually the case, and thought that more than a month would be required
to refurnish it with artillery[772].’ This was a guess that came very
near the truth, though the Emperor could not know that the cause of the
British general’s delay was mainly political and not military.

It was fortunate for Wellington that the astounding triumph of Vittoria
had put him in a position to dictate his own policy to the Ministry
at home. For Lord Bathurst and Lord Liverpool had been sending him
suggestions which filled him with grave apprehensions. Before the
news of Vittoria reached London, the War Minister had ‘thrown out for
consideration’ two most inept projects. If the French in Spain had
been driven beyond the Ebro, would it not be possible to ‘contain’
them for the future by Spanish and Portuguese armies, and to bring
round Wellington himself and the bulk of his British troops to Germany,
leaving only a small nucleus to serve as a backbone for the native
levies of the Peninsula? The appearance of Wellington with 40,000 of
his veterans on the Elbe would probably induce the Allies to appoint
him Generalissimo against Napoleon, and if Great Britain had the chief
command in Germany she could dictate the policy of the Coalition. But
supposing that the war was not resumed in Central Europe, and that a
general peace was negotiated, would it be possible or expedient to
allow the Emperor to retain the boundary of the Ebro for the French
Empire, on condition that he yielded to the demands of the Allies in
other parts of the Continent? Or would Wellington guarantee that in
the event of a Peace from which Great Britain stood out, he would be
able to maintain himself in Spain and Portugal, as in 1810 and 1811,
even though Napoleon had no other enemies left, and could send what
reinforcements he pleased across the Pyrenees?[773]

Even after the great event of June 21st had become known in London,
we find the Prime Minister repeating some of Lord Bathurst’s most
absurd suggestions. He wrote in a tentative and deferential style,
to set forth the hypothesis that it might be possible to so fortify
the Spanish frontier that it might be held by a small British force
aided by Spanish levies, ‘applying the principle upon which the Lines
before Lisbon were formed to the passes of the Pyrenees’; and he
inquired whether the warlike Navarrese and Biscayans could not defend
this new Torres Vedras, if backed by a small force--20,000 or at most
30,000--veteran Anglo-Portuguese troops[774]. If this could be done
Lord Liverpool obviously hoped great things from the effect of the
appearance of Wellington, with his new prestige and the bulk of his
victorious battalions, in Central Europe.

The recipient of these ill-advised suggestions would have nothing to
do with them. When on July 12th he got Bathurst’s dispatch of June
23rd, he replied that, being the servant of the State, he must obey
any orders given him by the Prince Regent and the Ministry, but that
he saw no profit in going to Germany, which he did not know, and where
he was not known, whereas in Spain he had a unique advantage in ‘the
confidence that everybody feels that what I do is right’. ‘Nobody
could enjoy that same advantage here--while I should be no better
than another in Germany. If any British army should be left in the
Peninsula, therefore, it is best that I should remain with it.’ As to
making any general peace which left the French the line of the Ebro as
a frontier, that problem had been settled by the battle of Vittoria. ‘I
recommend you not to give up an inch of Spanish territory; I think I
can hold the Pyrenees as easily as I can Portugal.’ It would really be
better to have Joseph Bonaparte as King of Spain (considering how ready
all Bonapartes are to break away from their brother), than to have
Ferdinand back with the Ebro as his frontier. ‘In the latter case Spain
would inevitably belong to the French[775].’

As to the ridiculous idea of fortifying the Pyrenean passes in the
style of the Lines of Torres Vedras, Wellington speaks with no
uncertain sound. ‘I do not think we could successfully apply to the
frontier of Spain the system on which we fortified the country between
Lisbon and the sea. That line was a short one, and the communications
easiest and shortest on our side. The Pyrenees are a very long line;
there are not fewer than seventy passes through these mountains, and
the better communications, so far as I have been able to learn, are on
the side of the enemy. We may facilitate defence by fortifying some of
the passes: but we can never make in the Pyrenees what we made between
the Tagus and the sea[776].’

It looks as if Lord Liverpool, in serene ignorance of local geography,
imagined the Pyrenees to be a simple line of precipices, pierced by
a limited number of passes, which could be sealed up with walls, in
the style in which Alexander the Great in the mediaeval romance dealt
with the ‘Caucasian Gates’. For we cannot suppose that even the most
unmilitary of politicians could have conceived it possible to build
something like the Great Wall of China for several hundred miles, along
the whole frontier from Fuenterrabia to Figueras. Yet this is what
his proposal, if taken literally, would have meant; and Wellington,
to show its absurdity, gave the total number of passes available for
mules or pedestrians between the Bay of Biscay and the Mediterranean.
Those by which guns or wheeled transport could pass were (of course)
no more than five or six--but there would be no finality in sealing
up these few: for the enemy could turn the flanks of any of them with
infantry scrambling up accessible slopes--as Soult indeed did during
the battles of the Pyrenees, only a month after Lord Liverpool had made
his egregious suggestion--or as Napoleon had done at the Somosierra in
the winter of 1808.

Lastly, as to the Prime Minister’s proposal to hand over the
defence of the Pyrenees to Spanish armies backed by a mere 20,000
Anglo-Portuguese, Wellington replied that the Spanish Government had
shown itself most consistently unable to feed, pay, and clothe its
armies, or to provide the transport which would make them mobile. In
June 1813 there were 160,000 men on the Spanish muster rolls, but only
a third of that number at the front and actively engaged with the
French, even when all troops in the Pyrenees, Aragon, and Catalonia
were reckoned up. To trust the defence of the frontier to a government
which could not move or feed more than a third of its own troops,
would be to invite disaster. The best way to help the Spaniards was
not to ask for more men, but to improve their finances, so that they
should be able to employ a greater proportion of their already existing
troops. As things stood at present, it would be insane to request them
to take over the main burden of the war. ‘It is my opinion that you
ought not to have less than 60,000 British troops in the field, let the
Spaniards have what numbers they may[777].’

Wellington had by this time established himself in such a commanding
position that the ministers had to accept his decision--however much
they would have liked to move him round to Germany, and to press for
his appointment to the unenviable position which Prince Schwarzenberg
occupied during the second campaign of 1813. The best proof of the
wisdom of his determination to remain in the Peninsula was that the
French, far from adopting a defensive policy, resumed the offensive
under Soult within a few weeks. It would be an unprofitable, as also a
dismal, task to consider what would have happened during the battles
of the Pyrenees had Soult been opposed, not by Wellington and his old
army, but by a Spanish host under O’Donnell or Freire, backed by two or
three Anglo-Portuguese divisions.

Controversy with Lord Bathurst on general principles was only one of
Wellington’s distractions during the middle weeks of July: he was
at the same time carrying on an acrimonious correspondence with the
Spanish Minister of War, concerning the removal of Castaños and Giron
from their posts, and enduring many controversial letters from Sir
John Murray regarding the Tarragona fiasco. Murray had realized the
disgust which his wretched policy had roused, alike in the army and
in the British public, and was endeavouring to justify himself to his
commander-in-chief by long argumentative epistles. Wellington refused
to commit himself to any judgement, and agreed with the ministers at
home that a court martial would be required[778]. He suggested to the
authorities at the Horse Guards that Murray should be charged firstly
with making no proper arrangements to raise the siege of Tarragona or
to bring off his guns, secondly with having disobeyed the clause of his
instructions which bade him return at once to Alicante if he failed in
Catalonia, and thirdly with having betrayed General Copons, by bringing
him down to the coast and then absconding without giving any proper
warning of his departure[779]. After mature reflection, however, he
advised that the third charge should be dropped, not because it was
unjustified, but because there would be great inconvenience in bringing
Copons or his representatives to bear witness at a British court
martial, when they were wanted in Catalonia.

But all this correspondence, and much more on less important
subjects, did not prevent Wellington from paying his promised visit
to General Graham, to inspect in person the allied positions on the
lower Bidassoa, and to supervise the arrangements for the siege of
St. Sebastian, which indeed required supervision, for already it was
evident that things were not going so well as might have been hoped in
this direction (July 12).

The first impression made on the observer by the fortress of St.
Sebastian is that it is an extremely small place. This is true--though
it is also true that its effect is somewhat dwarfed by its immense
surroundings--the limitless expanse of the Ocean on one side, and the
high and fantastic peaks of the Jaizquibel, the Peña de la Haya, and
the Four Crowns, which have just been passed by the traveller coming
from the side of Bayonne. The fortress consists of a lofty sandstone
rock, as steep as Edinburgh Castle and 400 ft. high, beaten on three
sides by the sea, and united to the land by a low sandy isthmus about
900 yards long. There was an old castle called La Mota, on the summit
of the rock, which is named Monte Urgull, with three modern batteries
on its southern or landward face[780], which is very steep and only
accessible at two points by winding roads. But these were not the main
defences of the place, which lay lower down. The town of St. Sebastian
was built on the lower ground below the rock, extending from sea to
sea and occupying about a third of the isthmus, the rest of which was
broken sandy ground about 400 yards broad. At the southern neck of the
isthmus was a hill crowned by the large monastery of San Bartolomé,
which the French held as an outwork at the beginning of the siege. The
space between this hill and the wall of the town, now thickly packed
with the hotels and avenues of a fashionable seaside resort, was in
1813 waste ground dotted with a few isolated houses and gardens, which
the governor was busily engaged in levelling when the blockading force
arrived. At two points there was a sufficient accumulation of buildings
to form a small suburb. One group was at the head of the bridge across
the river Urumea, which joined the peninsula to the eastern mainland;
this was named Santa Catalina, from a chapel of that saint which
lay in it. The other, called (for a similar reason) San Martin, was
immediately at the foot of the hill of San Bartolomé. The bridge had
been blown up by the French when the Spaniards first appeared, and the
suburbs set on fire, but their roofless and partly fallen houses still
gave a good deal of cover.

The land-front of St. Sebastian was very formidable; it was only
400 yards broad and was composed of a very high curtain from which
projected one large bastion in the centre and two demi-bastions
overhanging the water on each flank, that of San Juan, above the
estuary of the Urumea, that of Santiago on the western side nearest
the harbour. In front of the bastions was a very broad hornwork,
having outside it the usual counterscarp, covered-way, and glacis.
Specialists, wise after the event, criticized the whole land-front:
they found its trace defective, considered that the scarp of the
hornwork ought to have been more than 23 feet high, and pointed out
that in the rear line the two demi-bastions did not well protect the
flanks, since they were not themselves covered by the hornwork, and had
no ditch or glacis, because the salt water came up to their foot at
high tide[781].

But as the land-front was never attacked, these objections were of
comparatively little importance. The weak side of St. Sebastian was
really its eastern water-front. The western water-front on the open
bay was inaccessible; but on the opposite side, where the town wall ran
along the estuary of the river Urumea, the conditions were peculiar.
The Urumea is a tidal river--at high water it washes right up to the
foot of the walls, but at low tide it recedes into a narrow channel and
leaves exposed an expanse of rock and sand, ranging in breadth from
50 to 150 yards, all along the water-wall for a length of some 400
yards--half the east side of the town. The rampart here was a plain
curtain, not very high and only 8 feet thick: of course it could have
no ditch or other outer fittings, since the salt water reached right up
to it for half the day. Its only salients, from which flank fire could
be used, were one small bastion (St. Elmo) and two ancient round towers
called Los Hornos and Amezqueta, which projected slightly from the
straight curtain.

At high tide this water-front was unapproachable--at low tide it was
weak and accessible, for the Urumea was fordable in many places, and
shrank into a channel only 50 yards broad, meandering through a waste
of shingle, rocks, and mud. On its eastern bank were rolling sandhills
of some height, which commanded the isthmus and the southern half of
the town, from a distance of no more than 700 or 800 yards. To the
right of the sandhills, called Los Chofres, was a steep hill, the Monte
Olia, facing the castle of St. Sebastian across the broader part of
the estuary, and by no means out of gunshot of it, since not more than
1,000 or 1,100 yards of water lies between them.

Since it had been rebuilt as a fortress of the Vauban-Cohorn style
in the last years of the seventeenth century, St. Sebastian had only
once been besieged: for during the Revolutionary War of 1792-5 it
surrendered without any resistance to the Jacobin armies, while in 1808
Napoleon had seized it by treachery and not by force. The one formal
attack made on it was by the Duke of Berwick in 1719, when the armies
of the Regent Orleans crossed the Bidassoa, in the short war provoked
by the ambitions of Elizabeth Farnese and Cardinal Alberoni. Berwick
had established his siege-batteries not on the isthmus, to batter the
land-front, but on the Chofres sandhills, from whence he pounded the
eastern sea-front to pieces. Several breaches having been made in it,
and trenches on the isthmus having been pushed as far as the glacis
of the hornwork, the governor very tamely surrendered, without waiting
for an assault[782]. Unwarned by this revelation of the weakness of
the defences along the Urumea, the engineers of Philip V made no
improvements in them when they were reconstructed after the war, and
the fortress was in 1813 little different from what it had been in 1719.

The easy success of Marshal Berwick turned out a very unhappy thing
for the British army; for the history of the last siege being well
remembered, Major Charles Smith, the senior engineer with Graham’s
column, reported that Berwick’s plan was the right one[783], when the
first survey of the place was made. And when the head-quarters staff
came up, his superior officer, Sir Richard Fletcher, agreed with him,
as did Colonel Dickson commanding the artillery. They all forgot that
to make a breach with ease is not necessarily the same thing as to
capture a fortress, and that the eighteenth-century slackness of the
governor, who capitulated when his walls were once breached, gave no
indication of what might be done by a very resourceful and resolute
French officer, who had in his mind Napoleon’s edict of 1811 that
every commandant who hauled down his flag before standing at least one
assault should be sent before a court martial. Nor is there any doubt
that Wellington himself must take his share of the responsibility,
as he went round the place on July 12th and had a good look at it,
in company with Charles Smith and Dickson, from Monte Olia and the
Chofres sandhills. Dickson summed up the results of their discussion as
follows:--‘The project is to effect a breach in the uncovered sea-wall
forming an angle on the left of the land-front, between two towers [Los
Hornos and Amezqueta], being the same spot the Duke of Berwick breached
in 1719, when he took St. Sebastian. The convent of San Bartolomé,
which the French have fortified and occupied in force, is absolutely
necessary to take first, in order to be able to advance on the isthmus
in support of our breaching operations from the Chofres. The plan of
attack was the proposition of Major Smith[784].’

This, of course, was not the regular and orthodox way to attack such a
fortress--as it involved the making of breaches only accessible at low
tide, in a part of the wall to which no trenches could draw near, since
its lower courses were six feet under water for half the hours of the
day. There would have to be a long advance from the nearest dry ground
on which approaches could be dug, across the tidal waste, in order to
reach the spot selected for breaching. And this would undoubtedly be a
very bloody business for the exposed storming troops. The advantages
to be gained were rapid action and a quick end, without the necessity
which an orthodox scheme would have involved of sapping up to the
hornwork, storming it, and then tackling the lofty bastion behind it.
The British engineer who wrote the history of the siege considered that
‘the operations against San Sebastian afford a most impressive lesson
on the advantage of due attention to science and rule in the attack
of fortified places: the effort then made to overcome and trample on
such restrictions caused an easy and certain operation of eighteen or
twenty days to extend over sixty days, and to cost the besiegers 3,500
men killed, wounded, or taken, bearing strong testimony to the truth of
the maxim laid down by Marshal Vauban, that hurry in sieges does not
lead to an early success, often delays it, and always makes it very
bloody[785].’

St. Sebastian had been abandoned to its own resources on June 28, when,
after the departure of Foy’s troops from Oyarzun, the Spaniards had
closed in on the place, and established a blockade. The force employed
was four battalions of Biscayan volunteers under Mendizabal, the
remains of the bands which Foy had beaten in May, and which had taken
part on June 26 along with the British 1st Division in the combat of
Tolosa[786]. They were very irregular troops, and their indiscipline
and incompetence shocked General Graham when he came to visit their
lines on July 6th[787]. They had no notion of guarding themselves, and
had suffered severely, first from an attempt to storm San Bartolomé
on June 28th, and later from a French sortie on July 3, when Rey
sent out two columns of 700 men from the Convent, which surprised
their camp, took many prisoners, and drove them back for nearly two
miles. Graham recommended that they should be replaced at once by
solid troops, and at Wellington’s suggestion told off the British 5th
Division and the unattached Portuguese brigade of Bradford for the
siege[788]. Mendizabal’s men were sent off to join in the blockade of
Santoña[789]. On July 7th the siege-troops arrived; the independent
brigade established itself on the Chofres, the 5th Division--still
under Oswald as at Vittoria--took post on the heights of Ayete, facing
the hill and convent of San Bartolomé. From this moment the serious
operations may be considered to have begun. A blockade of the seaside
had been established, in a rather intermittent fashion, four days
earlier, when Sir George Collier appeared in the bay with a frigate,
the _Surveillante_, a corvette, and two brigs, all the force that he
could collect for the moment in response to Wellington’s appeals to the
Admiralty. The amount was wholly inadequate, even when supplemented
by some local fishing craft and pinnaces, which were manned by the
battalion of marines from Giron’s Galician army. All through the siege
French _trincadores_ and luggers from Bayonne and St. Jean de Luz ran
the blockade at night, bringing in food, munitions, and reinforcements.
For Rey having asked for more gunners, he was sent several detachments
of them, who all arrived in safety, while he got rid of many of his
wounded by the returning vessels. Wellington was full of justifiable
wrath at the miserable help given him--his objurgations brought
from Lord Melville an unsatisfactory reply, to the effect that the
operations in the Baltic and the American War absorbed many of the
British light craft which would have been available in earlier years,
and that the Admiralty had not been warned in the spring that any
large fighting force would be wanted on the Biscay coast in July.
‘Neither from you, nor from any other person at your suggestion, did
we ever receive the slightest intimation that more was expected than
the protection of your convoys, till the actual arrival of Sir Thomas
Graham on the coast after the battle of Vittoria.’ Melville then
proceeded to write lengthy observations on the dangerous nature of the
coast of Northern Spain, ‘where ships cannot anchor without extreme
risk, and are exposed to almost certain destruction in a gale, when
from its direction they can neither haul off shore nor run for shelter
into a port. If you will ensure the ships a continuance of east winds,
they could remain with you, but not otherwise. All the small craft in
the British navy could not prevent the occasional entry of small boats
by night into San Sebastian’s, though it may be rendered more difficult
and uncertain.’ Melville then proceeded to tax Wellington with grave
professional irregularity, for having written to Sir George Collier,
and other naval officers, letters taxing the Admiralty with neglect and
incompetence. ‘Appeals to subordinate officers against their superiors
are not customary in any branch of the service, and must be injurious
to the public interest[790].’

It was not so much the arguments used by Melville as his offensive
tone which Wellington resented. The victor of Salamanca was naturally
irritated at finding himself treated _de haut en bas_ by a personage
of such complete insignificance, who had not even the equivocal
reputation of his father (the devisor of so many unlucky expeditions,
the impeached minister of 1806) to lend weight to his lectures. He
replied in a very short letter that he was not desirous of getting into
discussions, that his demands for more naval assistance had begun in
the winter of 1812-13, and that after reading over again his letters
to naval officers he could see nothing to find fault with--save that
he had once sent to Sir George Collier an extract of a dispatch to
Lord Bathurst, instead of a separate communication on the same topic
addressed to Collier personally--a trifling subject on which to start
a controversy[791]. Meanwhile he considered, as a dozen letters show,
that he was being poorly served by the Admiralty, and ‘formed private
opinions on the subject--which private opinions may not perhaps deserve
much attention,’ as he sardonically observed.

One thing, however, the Admiralty had contrived to carry out according
to Wellington’s request--the stores and battering train, which he had
accumulated at Corunna in the spring, had come round to the Biscay
coast as soon as could have been expected; they had been sent to
Santander, as he directed, and arrived in that harbour on the very day
(June 29) on which Major Frazer, sent off four days after Vittoria,
came from Head-Quarters to inquire for them[792]. The orders were to
land them at Deba in Guipuzcoa, fifteen miles west of St. Sebastian;
but just as the disembarkation was commencing (July 3), a change of
destination was made--everything was to be put ashore at Passages, a
much more convenient place, only a couple of miles from the blockaded
fortress. This is a most astonishing little harbour, the safest port
on the coast, for it is absolutely land-locked; its entrance is so
narrow that the circular basin looks like a lake without an issue,
till the eye has with some difficulty discovered its exit. It pays for
its security, however, by being hard to enter in time of storm, when
very careful navigation is required. But a besieging army has seldom
been granted a base so near to its field of operations--it was only
two and a half miles from the water’s edge at Passages to the Chofres
sandhills, where the chief batteries were to be constructed, though
four miles to the head of the isthmus where the left attack was to
be made. And the fording of the Urumea, whose bridge the French had
burned, was sometimes dangerous--more than one gun was lost in the
quicksands[793].

By the time that Wellington had worked out the scheme of assault with
Charles Smith, the guns were already arriving, not only the battering
train from Corunna, which had begun to come ashore on July 7, but the
heavy artillery reserve of the army, which had traversed all the weary
miles of road from Ciudad Rodrigo. The total of pieces available was
twenty-eight from the convoy, six from the heavy battery of the army
reserve, and six lent by Sir George Collier from the main deck of his
ship, the _Surveillante_--or forty in all[794]--a very different train
from the miserable four guns which had battered Burgos in the preceding
autumn.

Before any regular siege work could begin, it was obviously necessary
to clear the French out of the monastery of San Bartolomé, on its
hill at the neck of the isthmus: till this should be taken, it was
impossible to get forward on the shore from which the assault was to
be delivered. Under-estimating the strength of the post Graham and the
engineers, contrary to the advice of Major Hartmann of the K.G.L.,
the senior artillery officer present before Dickson’s arrival[795],
had tried to reduce it on July 7th by the fire of a Portuguese field
battery belonging to the artillery reserve; but the walls proved too
solid for 8-pounders to damage, and some firing with red hot shot
failed to set fire to the roof. It was clear that it would be necessary
to wait for the heavy guns to come up. Meanwhile the French continued
to strengthen San Bartolomé, throwing up an earthwork in its cemetery
and loopholing and barricading the ruined houses near it, as well as
those in the burnt-out suburb of San Martin, which lay at its foot.
They also commenced a redoubt on the isthmus, half-way between the
outlying convent and the hornwork in front of the city wall.

While the siege train was being got ashore, the engineers made
ready the emplacements for the guns--they started with throwing up
two batteries on the Ayete heights to play on the convent of San
Bartolomé[796], three on the Chofres sandhills[797] to act against the
sea-wall where the main breach was to be formed, and one on the lofty
Monte Olia, for long-distance fire against all the fortifications,
including those of the rock of Monte Urgull[798]. But on the 14th, when
the battering began, the only guns used were those on the left attack
opposite the convent, as it was considered unwise to molest the city
fortifications before there was any way of getting near them: approach
was impossible as long as the isthmus was all in the enemy’s hands.

Two days’ battering (July 14-15) brought down the roof and part of
the walls of San Bartolomé, and damaged the subsidiary works around
it severely. But General Rey was determined to hold on to his outer
defences as long as possible: the best part of two battalions was told
off to hold the ruins and the suburb of San Martin behind them. On the
afternoon of the 15th General Oswald, judging from the dilapidation of
the buildings that they were untenable, sent in the 8th Caçadores from
his Portuguese brigade to storm them; but the French had dug themselves
well in, a furious fire broke out against the assailants, and the
attack was turned back with the loss of 65 men[799]. It was obvious
that more battering was required to evict the gallant garrison, so the
fire was resumed on the 16th, with the aid of a field battery playing
across the Urumea to enfilade the defences, and to pound the ruined
houses of San Martin, where the French reserves were sheltering.

The fire was very effective: the inner woodwork of the monastery
blazed up, its porch was levelled to the ground, great gaps appeared
in the walls, and the earthwork in the cemetery was much damaged. At
10 a.m. on the 17th a second storm was tried, with forces much larger
than those used at the first--not one battalion, but the equivalent
of three: Oswald drew upon Bradford’s independent brigade from across
the Urumea for 700 Portuguese volunteers. Two columns were launched
against the French position, each consisting of a screen of Caçadores,
a support of Portuguese Line troops, and a reserve of British companies
from the first brigade of the 5th Division[800]. The right column
aimed at the cemetery earthwork and the fortified houses--the left at
the main buildings of the convent, which were still smouldering from
the fire. Both achieved their purpose without any very serious loss,
and the garrison was driven down hill into the suburb of San Martin,
pursued by the stormers. Here the French reserves intervened, and for
a moment the attack was turned back; but the companies of the 1/9th
which formed the British supports re-established the fight, and the
enemy retired in disorder towards the town. Unfortunately the victors
pursued recklessly, and came under the fire of the French guns in the
hornwork and the bastion behind it, whence many unnecessary casualties.
For it had never been intended that the troops should advance on to the
isthmus, where of course they could do nothing against an intact front
of fortifications. The total losses of the assailants were 207 killed
and wounded--the 1/9th which had headed the rush on to the bare ground
suffering most, with 70 casualties. The French had 40 killed and 200
wounded.

It was now possible to commence the subsidiary attack on the side
of the isthmus, as the French held nothing outside the walls save
the recently constructed redoubt in front of the hornwork[801]. Two
batteries were thrown up on the San Bartolomé hill, and on the 18th
the guns with which the convent had been breached were moved down
into them[802]. The main object of these batteries was to enfilade
the stretch of sea-wall, on which the greater weight of metal on the
Chofres downs was to play from the front. Two additional batteries
were thrown up, more to the right, which, while aiding the enfilading
fire, were also intended to shell the land-front, and keep down the
fire from the bastion and hornwork[803]. Finally, the Chofres attack
was strengthened with two more batteries[804]. On the night of the
19th sixteen guns in all were in place on the isthmus front, or left
attack, twenty-three on the right attack to the east of the Urumea,
including six on the summit of the lofty Monte Olia, on the extreme
flank[805]. Meanwhile the approaches, by which the troops would have
to move out to assault the breaches when made, were not nearly so far
forward as could have been desired: little more had been done than to
push a zig-zag down the slope of San Bartolomé into the ruins of San
Martin--further advance was made difficult by the fact that the French
were still holding the forward position of the redoubt in the centre of
the isthmus. It was only on the night between the 19th and 20th that
they evacuated this post[806]. Moreover the fire of the defence was as
yet intact, since the British heavy batteries had not begun their work:
hence the sap-head was a decidedly unhealthy place.

At 8 a.m. on the morning of July 20 nine of the eleven siege batteries
opened--all but the two new ones on San Bartolomé, where the work
was a little belated. The effect of the first day’s work was fairly
satisfactory--the parapet of the sea-wall began to crumble, the enemy’s
guns _en barbette_ on the land-front were partly silenced, and the high
trajectory fire from the lofty Monte Olia battery searched the streets,
the back of the bastion, and the interior of the hornwork. The enemy
concentrated all his attention on the largest British battery upon the
Chofres dunes, the eleven guns which were farthest forward (No. 3)
and were doing much damage to the sea-wall. The counter-fire here was
severe--one gun was split by a ball striking its muzzle, others had
wheels broken, three had to stop firing because their embrasures, badly
built with sand, fell in and could not be kept clear[807]. By evening
only six of the eleven guns were still at work.

An afternoon of wind and showers, which had made accurate aim
difficult, was followed on the night of the 20th-21st by a torrential
rain, which much impeded the special work which had been set aside for
the dark hours. Seven hundred men from Spry’s Portuguese brigades had
been told off to open a parallel right across the isthmus, starting
from the lodgment already established in the ruined houses of San
Martin. ‘In the perfect deluge the working parties sneaked away by
degrees into houses and holes and corners. After numerous difficulties
and exertions only about 150 could be collected and set to work at 11
p.m. The party was not discovered, and the soil being light soon got
under cover.... But the parallel finished was for only about one-third
of the extent required[808].’

On the next morning Sir Thomas Graham sent out a _parlementaire_ to
summon the governor to surrender--rather prematurely as it would seem,
for no real breach had yet been formed, nor had the fire of the defence
been subdued. General Rey having made the answer that might be expected
from a resolute officer[809], the battering recommenced, and was
continued on the 21st-22nd-23rd-24th July. It was quite effective: on
the 23rd fifty yards of the curtain, between the towers of Los Hornos
and Amezqueta, fell outward on to the strand that was exposed at low
water--appearing to present a practicable breach. But partly to make
things sure, and partly because the trenches on the isthmus were still
remote from the point which it was intended to reach, the battering was
continued for two days longer. Not only was more of the wall thrown
down near the tower of Los Hornos, but at Graham’s desire a second and
minor breach was made, some distance farther north in the sea-wall than
the first[810]. The temptation to make it was that Spanish refugees
brought intelligence that the ramparts here were very thin--which
proved to be the case, as one day’s battering brought down a broad
patch of stones. On the other hand the specialists are said to have
warned Graham that the second breach would be rather useless, because
the space of shore below it exposed at low tide was very narrow--under
50 feet wide--and could only be reached by skirting along for 300 yards
below the walls and past the foot of the first breach. However, the
creation of a second point of attack would certainly distract part of
the attention of the garrison from the real place of danger, and if the
small breach could be carried, the flank of the defenders of the great
breach would be effectually turned.

It was a thousand pities that the formation of the first breach on
July 23rd was not followed by an immediate attempt to storm, as the
enemy was given two whole days to perfect his inner defences. But an
assault was impossible till the approaches should have got close to
the walls, and owing to the initial delays they were not ready till
two days later. On the night of the 22nd-23rd the parallel reaching
right across the isthmus was begun and half completed, with the French
‘Cask Redoubt’ at its left extremity. Digging close to this spot, the
working parties found a large drain or channel 4 feet high and 3 feet
wide, which belonged to the aqueduct which supplied the town with
water. It was empty, as the Spaniards had cut it off at its source
when they first blockaded the town. Lieutenant Reid of the Engineers
volunteered to explore it, and crawling 230 yards forward, found that
he was under the west corner of the counterscarp of the hornwork, where
the French had cut off the channel and blocked it with a door. This
discovery suggested to the engineers that the channel might be used as
a mine; if its farther end were filled with powder, and then built up
with sandbags, the explosion might bring down the counterscarp and fill
the ditch, so that the hornwork might be stormed across the débris.
Unfortunately there was complete uncertainty as to whether the plan
would work: quite conceivably it might result in the door being blown
open, and the force of the powder might be spent in sending a local
blast along the ditch, without much damaging the superincumbent earth.
However, the experiment was tried; layers of sandbags were placed
against the door, then thirty barrels of powder were inserted, standing
on end but not tamped in, for foul air greatly troubled the miners, so
that there was much empty space above and between the barrels. The near
end was then built up with more sandbags and a train laid to the mouth
of the channel in the trenches[811].

During the day of the 23rd and the following night the parallel was
completed, and good communications made from it to the base, the hill
of San Bartolomé. The greater part of the enemy’s visible guns were
silenced, and the enfilading fire from the two last-erected batteries
on the isthmus set ablaze the quarter of the town immediately behind
the two breaches. This last achievement turned out to be anything but
an advantage.

For arrangements for the assault having been made for daybreak on the
24th, and the storming party and supports having been brought down to
the trenches after midnight, to wait till half low-tide, it was found
that the whole of the streets adjacent to the great breach were blazing
so fiercely that it was thought that any entry into the town would be
impossible. Graham therefore countermanded the storm--this was probably
necessary; but Rey thereby gained another day for perfecting his
internal defences.

These were most elaborate and excellent, surpassing by far even
the very competent arrangements made by Philippon at Badajoz. The
peculiar part of them was that Rey had to depend almost entirely on
engineering work--his artillery having been completely crushed during
the preliminary battering. Such guns as he contrived to use on this day
were either very remote--on the rock and its slopes--or else pieces
that had been withdrawn and kept under cover till the critical moment
should arrive. The British artillery officers, whose telescopes were
always busy, discovered some of them, but informed Graham that they
undertook to crush them when they should be brought out, provided that
light and atmospheric conditions were satisfactory[812].

But the main defence which Rey had prepared depended on fortification,
not on artillery fire. His chief advantage was that at both breaches
the stones had fallen outward, and the back of the ramparts was intact.
All along the sea-wall there was a drop of 15 to 20 feet from the
rampart-walk into the street behind: this still existed, as the core
of the wall was still standing, though the facing had given way. To
descend from the lip of the breach into the town, therefore, was
more than a feasible leap: it could not be done without ladders. Rey
had demolished some houses which had been built with their back to
the ramparts, and had cut away all stairs leading up to them. He had
blocked with stone barricades all streets opening towards the breaches,
and had loopholed all buildings commanding a view of them. When the
fire in the quarter that had been ablaze on the 24th died down, he
reoccupied the ruined houses, making shelters in the débris. He had
cut off the rampart-walk on each side of the breaches by building a
succession of stone traverses across it, so that troops who had mounted
to the top could not push out sideways. As it was clear that the
storming columns would have to advance for 300 yards parallel with the
eastern _faussebraye_ of the hornwork, and close to it, because of the
water on their right, he told off a large number of picked marksmen to
line this flank, and ranged live shells along it, which could be rolled
down on to the strand while the enemy were passing.

The preparation for a storm on the 24th, and its countermand because
of the conflagration, had been noted by the governor, who understood
the cause of the delay. Obviously the attack would come on the
following morning, so the reserved guns were got into position after
midnight--two in the casemates of the high curtain, two others in
the ditch below it, one in the eastern face of the hornwork, two in
the south front of the bastion of St. Elmo: into the towers of Los
Hornos and Amezqueta, on each side of the main breach, three pieces
were hoisted not without difficulty, since the towers, though still
standing, were in bad order. Even in the distant and lofty Mirador
battery, on top of the rock, some guns were trained on the point of
danger[813]. Having made all possible preparations Rey waited for the
assault, which came just as he had expected.

The exact share of responsibility for the details of the storm of July
25th, which fell respectively on the engineers who had settled the
scheme of attack, on Graham who designated the hour, on Oswald who
arranged the order of the troops, and on the artillery officers who had
undertaken to keep down the enemy’s fire, is not easy to determine.
All apparently have to take their portion; but that of Charles Smith,
who devised, and Sir Richard Fletcher, who approved, the choice of the
sea-wall for the breach-spot would seem to be the heaviest, and that of
the gunners the least.

The troops were to sally out from the eastern end of the long parallel
across the isthmus, when there should be a sufficient breadth of strand
exposed for them to rush straight for the breaches, passing between the
hornwork on their left and the receding tidal water on their right.
Unfortunately the hour of low tide and the hour of daybreak were not
conveniently correlated: the ideal combination would have been that
the four hours during which there was good access across the exposed
flats should have been from 5.30 a.m. till 9.30 a.m.: daybreak falling
at about 5.20 a.m. But as it chanced the extreme of low tide that day
was at 6 a.m., and the practicable hours were from 4 a.m. onward. In
order to lose none of the limited time available, Graham determined
that the rush should be made at 5 o’clock sharp, before it was full
daylight; and this choice had one unlucky effect. The engineers settled
that the signal for assault should be the blowing up of the mine in
the aqueduct[814]; but they had so little confidence in its effect,
that the only arrangements made to utilize it were that supposing it
should do much damage and blow down scarp and counterscarp (which was
hardly expected), the Portuguese companies which held the extreme left
of the parallel should make a rush at the west flank of the hornwork,
and enter over the débris. This was a very half-hearted scheme. For
the real assault General Oswald seems to have made a very faulty
disposition of his troops. The opening made in the parallel was so
narrow that not more than two or three men could issue abreast. The
troops, therefore, had to start in a sort of narrow file or procession,
and took an unconscionable time in trickling out from the trench.
The head of the column was composed of the right wing of the 3/1st
(Royal Scots); then came a ladder party from all three regiments of
Hay’s brigade; then the left wing of the Royal Scots: all these were
to strike for the main breach. Next were the 1/38th, who were directed
to pass between the leading troops and the water’s edge, and to make
for the lesser breach, along the ever-narrowing strip of exposed beach.
Last came the 1/9th, the third battalion of the brigade, with orders to
support wherever it could make itself most useful. Some picked shots
from the 8th Caçadores of Spry’s brigade were placed along the front of
the parallel, and in a ditch which had been scraped during the night a
few yards in advance of it, with orders to try to keep down the enemy’s
musketry from the eastern flank of the hornwork.

At 5 o’clock, or perhaps a little earlier[815], the mine was fired, and
did much more damage than was expected, blowing down the counterscarp
of the western flank of the hornwork, injuring the scarp, and filling
the ditch with earth. The Portuguese troops in the opposite trench
made an assault, according to their orders, swept over the covered
way and into the ditch, and tried to enter the work. They failed
with loss, because no proper preparations had been made to utilize
the opportunity[816], which indeed had hardly been taken into
consideration. They might have got in, for the French garrison flinched
at first, terrified by the explosion.

On the side of the main attack the Royal Scots led out of the parallel
immediately that the explosion was heard, and pushed forward in almost
complete darkness on to the strand. It was found to consist in many
places of hard rock overgrown with slippery seaweed, and interspersed
with deep pools. The men stumbled over, and into, many traps which
might have been avoided by daylight, and all order was lost. But for
the first few minutes there was little fire bearing on them, and
the platoons at the head of the column reached the main breach.
The conducting engineer, Lieutenant Harry Jones, and Major Fraser,
commanding the wing of the Royal Scots, had actually got to the lip
of the breach, with the leading men of the storming party, before
the enemy really opened. That the crowning of the breach was not
followed by a rush into the town was due to Rey’s precautions--there
was a sudden drop of twenty feet between the top of the wall and the
street below, and no means to descend, as all stairs and ramps had
been cut away. There were some ladders with the column, but not at its
head--they were being carried in the rear of the right wing of the
Royal Scots. As the leading company came to a halt the French began
to shoot hard from behind traverses on the rampart-walk, barricades,
and loopholed houses, and the guns in the two flanking towers played
on the breach with grape. The head of the column began to wither away;
Fraser and Jones were both wounded--the former mortally--and so was
every man who had reached the summit. The survivors on the breach
threw themselves down among the stones and began to return the enemy’s
fire--the first impetus being lost, and any chance of success with it.

But it was only about the equivalent of a company which had advanced so
far; the rear of the right wing of the Royal Scots were still passing
along the flank of the hornwork, in a straggling file, when the enemy’s
fire began to be serious. It came most fiercely from an entrenchment
which Rey had thrown up across the main ditch between the hornwork
and the high front of the demi-bastion behind it. It seems, from the
narrative of an officer who took a prominent part in the storm--Colin
Campbell of the 1/9th, who was with the ladder party--that many of the
Royal Scots, arriving in the darkness at this opening into the main
ditch, mistook it for a passage by which they might force their way
into the place, or even for the great breach itself. At any rate they
turned in toward it, and on meeting with strenuous resistance began
to fire upon the enemy. The men following gathered in upon the first
comers, and a crowd accumulated at this point, which checked the ladder
party and the left wing of the Royal Scots as they came up. Hardly
any one pressed on to join the head of the column on the slope of the
breach. Meanwhile the tail of the column was blocked, as it tried to
press on past the hornwork. The French, standing above, rolled down the
shells which had been laid ready upon the British below, and kept up a
vigorous discharge of musketry. With great exertions individual company
officers succeeded in collecting parties of their own men, and leading
them out of the crowd, so as to pass on to the great breach. But the
attack there had already come to nothing: the stones all up the slope
were strewn with dead and wounded--a few survivors were keeping up an
ineffectual return fire upon the well-concealed enemy. Three or perhaps
four attempts to mount again were made by small parties of the rear
companies of the Royal Scots, but there were never more than 80 or 90
men acting together, and the officers and leading men were always shot
down on the crest. At last the senior captain surviving, seeing the
impossibility of getting forward, ordered the stormers to retire, which
they did--only half an hour or less after the assault commenced--though
the time had seemed much longer, as was natural, to those involved
in the bloody business. The larger body of men engaged farther back,
opposite the main ditch and under the demi-bastion of St. Juan, gave
way also when the head of the column fell back among them: they had
themselves suffered heavily, and of course had made no progress. Just
as the whole body rolled back along the beach they came into collision
with the front of the 1/38th, who had only just finished filing out
of the parallel, so slow was the process of emerging from its narrow
exit. Their commanding officer, Colonel Greville, had halted them for
a short time to let their rear close up, and to prevent them from
dribbling forward in a thin string of small parties, as the Royal Scots
had done. Just as they came parallel with the north end of the hornwork
the broken mass of men from the front ran in upon them; all order was
lost at once, and after some vain attempts to get forward the 38th fell
back along with the rest over the slippery shore[817]. The disordered
crowd suffered heavily from the French grape and musketry--they were a
mark impossible to miss, and strewed the rocks and pools with dead. The
1/9th, who were just beginning to file out of the parallel, were of
course ordered back at once--‘but had lost almost as many heads as they
showed[818].’

So quickly was the whole affair over that the artillerymen, standing
by their guns on the opposite side of the Urumea, ready to co-operate
as soon as dawn should come, believed at first that there had been a
feint or a false attack. It was only when the growing light showed them
the breach strewn from lip to foot with red coats, and the strand below
thickly dotted with them also, that they realized that the assault had
been made and had failed[819], without their being given the chance to
intervene as they had promised.

The loss had, of course, been very heavy--out of 571 casualties of all
ranks[820] more than 330 belonged to the unfortunate Royal Scots, whose
right wing companies were almost exterminated. Six officers and 118
men, almost all wounded, fell into the hands of the enemy. It should
be remembered to the credit of the garrison that, the moment that the
storm was over, they collected from the foot of the breach and the
neighbouring strand many officers and men who would otherwise have been
drowned by the returning tide[821]. When it was seen that this was the
task of the French who were seen busy on the beach, a flag of truce
was hoisted, and all firing ceased for an hour. The prisoners, one of
whom, the engineer Harry Jones, has left an interesting account of his
experiences during the next six weeks[822], were very well treated.
The extremely moderate loss of the garrison was 18 killed and 49
wounded--all by musketry fire, since by the abominable misarrangement
of the assault the British artillery had no chance of acting.

Two comments by eye-witnesses on this woeful business are worth giving.
Colin Campbell wrote:

‘One main cause of failure was the narrow front and consequent length
and thinness of the column in which we advanced. This necessarily
became more loosened and disjointed by the difficult nature of the
ground it had to pass over in the dark. It reached the breach in
driblets and never in such body or number as to give the mind of the
soldier anything like confidence in success. If some means had been
devised of starting the Royals in one big honest lump, which might have
been contrived without much difficulty or danger, so that they could
have started in some dense form, with the 38th well packed up in a
front of fours in readiness to start immediately behind after them, the
stoppage at the demi-bastion would never have occurred, and some 200
men at least of the Royals would have reached the breach in a compact
body. Such a number would have forced bodily through all opposition.
Even under all the disadvantages of bad arrangements, I firmly believe
that if we had moved forward by daylight, when an officer could have
seen, and been seen by, his men, when the example of the former would
have animated the exertions of the latter, the Royals would have gone
over the breach on July 25th[823].’

Campbell’s blame, therefore, would fall mainly on Oswald, who, though
he had protested against the points chosen for attack, had actually
arranged the troops, and failed to remember that men should go ‘over
the top’ on a broad front, and on Graham, who fixed the ‘Zero’ point
half an hour before dawn. Gomm, of the 1/9th, also a most distinguished
and capable officer, goes for other game--the officers of the
scientific services:

‘I am afraid our success at Ciudad Rodrigo and Badajoz, owing to the
almost miraculous efforts of the troops, has stopped the progress
of science among our engineers, and perhaps done more; for it seems
to have inspired them with a contempt for so much of it as they had
attained before. Our soldiers have on all occasions stood fire so well
that our artillery have become as summary in their processes as our
engineers. Provided that they have made a hole in the wall, by which
we can claw up, they care not about destroying defences. In fact, we
have been called upon hitherto to ensure the success of our sieges
by the sacrifice of lives. Our Chief Engineers and Commandants of
Artillery remind me of Burke’s “Revolutionary Philosophers” and their
“dispositions which make them indifferent to the cause of humanity;
they think no more of men than of mice in an air pump”. We came before
the place well equipped with all the means necessary for attacking
it _en règle_, and I saw no reason for attacking it otherwise. I may
dwell longer than I ought to do on this subject. But it is, at least,
pardonable in us, who are most nearly concerned, to become tedious
in passing our censure upon the methods of those whom we cannot but
consider as the authors of our calamity; which, as it was foreseen by
others, and _might_ have been by them, could have been avoided.’

The narrative of the assault seems to show that both Campbell and
Gomm had reason for their complaints, though they chose different
points to criticize. But of the various errors made, undoubtedly the
most fatal of all was attempting to storm breaches that could only be
approached by a long defile along the flank of the hornwork, which
was intact and well garrisoned. And for this the engineers have to
take the responsibility. Camp rumour very cruelly put the blame on the
troops[824], alleging that there had been a panic: this was a monstrous
injustice. Everything that mismanagement could accomplish had been done
to discourage them; but it was not poor spirit, but physical incapacity
to finish a task impossible under the conditions set, that caused them
to retire.

[Illustration: Attack of ST SEBASTIAN between 11th July & 9th Sept 1813]

Wellington had, on the 24th, received disquieting news about movements
on the French front, and was very anxious to hear of the fall of St.
Sebastian before he might be committed to another campaign in the
field. He stopped at his head-quarters at Lesaca on the morning of
the 25th, lest more definite and threatening information might come
to hand. During the hours of dawn he was standing about in Lesaca
churchyard listening to the guns, and speculating on the cause of their
cessation at 6 o’clock, when the armistice to recover the wounded was
made. At 11 came a messenger, Colonel de Burgh, to say that the assault
had failed with loss. This was a severe and rather unexpected blow;
Wellington had counted on success as probable[825]. Taking the
chance of more news coming in from the Pyrenees during his absence,
he rode over in haste to St. Sebastian and inspected the scene of the
disaster. He declared that the siege must continue, that the Hornwork
and the demi-bastion of San Juan must be battered to pieces, and that
the engineers had better draw up an alternative scheme for an attack
_en règle_ on the land front. More guns and ammunition were expected
from England; the latter was much needed, for the reserve was low after
the rapid firing on the 22nd-24th. There would probably be some delay
before a second storm could be tried[826].

While riding back to Lesaca after his flying visit to the trenches,
Wellington was met on the road by messengers of evil. The threats of
the preceding day had turned into imminent dangers. Heavy firing had
been heard since noon from the side of the Bastan, seeming to show that
Hill’s divisions at the Pass of Maya were being attacked. And just as
he reached his head-quarters a messenger came up from Cole, at the
extreme southern end of the line, to say that he had been assailed in
the Pass of Roncesvalles by the enemy in overwhelming strength, and had
been fighting hard since dawn--results were still uncertain[827].

Without further information it was, of course, impossible to take more
than preliminary measures for parrying the French thrust. Wellington
speculated on the situation: one of its meanings might be that the
enemy was demonstrating at Roncesvalles and Maya, in order to cover
a thrust on the side of the Bidassoa, with the object of raising
the siege of St. Sebastian. He wrote at once to Graham that he must
expect to be attacked in force, telling him to ship his siege-guns at
Passages[828], to leave a minimum of troops to continue the blockade,
and to concentrate for the defence of the line of the Bidassoa. It is
clear that Wellington was thinking of the scandal caused by the loss
of Murray’s guns at Tarragona, and was determined that his own siege
train should be afloat betimes. After the guns were safe other stores
were put on shipboard.

So ended the first siege of St. Sebastian--a depressing failure not
creditable to any one engaged in it. As if the tale of disaster was
not complete, a disgraceful incident happened on the night of the
26th-27th. Rey had noted the disarmament of the batteries proceeding
all day, and the departure of troops; he resolved to try a sortie at
night, to see if the besiegers were all absconding. Before dawn five
companies emerging from the Hornwork swept along the parallel, guarded
at the moment by detachments of Spry’s Portuguese brigade. Such a bad
watch was kept that they were completely surprised, three officers
and 198 men were captured: the remainder of the trench-guard fled
back to the suburb of San Martin. When the reserves came up and made
for the parallel, it was found that the French had retired with their
prisoners, after doing some inconsiderable damage to the works[829].

SECTION XXXVIII: CHAPTER II

SOULT TAKES THE OFFENSIVE IN NAVARRE

The Duke of Dalmatia had arrived at Bayonne on the afternoon of July
11th: on the morning of the following day he had taken over from the
hands of King Joseph the command of the armies of Spain, after a short
and formal interview, at which each said little and thought much. When
the King had departed to his enforced retirement, the Marshal called
together the senior officers of all the four armies, and informed
them that by the Emperor’s orders he had to carry out a general
reorganization, which would affect the positions of many of them. There
would for the future be one Army of Spain--the separate staffs would
disappear: so would many divisional commands, administrative offices,
and departmental posts. He had been entrusted by the Emperor with full
authority to carry out the changes on his own responsibility.

This was a great moment for Soult: he had at last achieved his
ambition, and received that full power over all the armies of Spain
which he had coveted since 1808, and had never attained, either while
the Emperor pretended to direct in person the war in the Peninsula,
or while King Joseph held the nominal post of commander-in-chief. It
is true that the long-desired position came to him in consequence of
a terrible disaster to the imperial arms, but there were compensating
advantages even in this: the disaster, as he conceived, had been due
to his old enemies--at any rate it could be ascribed to them with all
plausibility. And he was thus provided with an admirable opportunity
to repay old grudges, of which he took full advantage in the famous
proclamation issued to the army before the commencement of his new
campaign: it is a series of elaborate insults to his predecessors, as a
short quotation may show.

‘Soldiers! with well-equipped fortresses in front and in rear, a
capable general possessing the confidence of his troops could by the
choice of good positions have faced and defeated the motley levies
opposed to you. Unhappily at the critical moment timid and downhearted
counsels prevailed. The fortresses were abandoned or blown up: a hasty
and disorderly retreat gave confidence to the enemy; and a veteran
army, weak in numbers (it is true) but great in everything that
constitutes military character, that army which had fought, bled, and
conquered in every province of Spain, saw with indignation its laurels
blighted, and was forced to abandon its conquests, the trophies of
many sanguinary days of battle. When at last the cries of an indignant
army stopped the dishonourable flight, and its chief, touched by a
feeling of shame, and yielding to the general desire, gave battle in
front of Vittoria, who can doubt that a general worthy of his troops
could have won the success merited by their generous enthusiasm, and
their splendid sense of honour? Did he make the arrangements and direct
the movements which should have assured to one part of his army the
help and support of the rest?... Soldiers! I sympathize with your
disappointment, your grievances, your indignation. I know that the
blame for the present situation must be imputed to others. It is your
task to repair the disaster[830].’

This may have been good ‘propaganda’ for the army--it served to soothe
their wounded pride by throwing all blame on their late commanders. But
there can be no doubt that it was inspired not so much by this very
comprehensible motive as by long-cherished malice and hatred for the
unfortunate Joseph and Jourdan. This was quite in keeping with Soult’s
character. He was a most distinguished soldier, but a most unamiable
man; and his memory was as long as his spite was strong.

We have already had much to write on this cold calculating son of a
provincial lawyer--one of the few ‘best military brains,’ as his master
called him, but also, as King Joseph truly observed, ‘untrustworthy,
perverse, dangerous[831].’ He served the Emperor well as long as their
interests coincided, but he was quite ready for any other profitable
service. Some thirteen months later, as the war minister of Louis
XVIII, he showed himself a zealous persecutor of Bonapartists[832].
Soult was the most monstrous of egotists; at this moment his ambition
served his master well: no general save William III ever won so much
credit from a series of defeats as did Soult in 1813-14 from the
operations that began with the disaster of Sorauren and ended with the
loss of Toulouse. But on the receipt of the news of the abdication at
Fontainebleau he became a zealous Royalist: eighteen months later he
was, as the minister of the Bourbons, issuing flamboyant proclamations
against ‘the usurper and adventurer, Napoleon Bonaparte[833].’ Yet in
the Hundred Days he was to be found as the ‘usurper’s’ Chief of the
Staff on the field of Waterloo! Proscribed for a short time on account
of this unhappy error in calculation, he was so far back in favour with
the ‘powers that were’ as to receive a gift of 200,000 francs from
Louis XVIII in 1820, and the grand cordon of St. Louis from Charles X
in 1825, on the occasion of his coronation at Reims.

But as long as Napoleon I was emperor, Nicholas Soult was his most
valuable lieutenant: their interests coincided, and it is certain that
none of the other marshals would have played such a creditable losing
game on the Pyrenees and the plains of Southern France against such an
adversary as Wellington.

The Army of Spain received the news of his advent with mixed feelings.
There was a considerable faction among his own old generals of
Andalusia, who welcomed back one who had been an indulgent spectator of
their peculations--of which he himself had set the example. For Soult’s
acquisitiveness was portentous--he was ready to snatch at everything
from a shadowy Portuguese crown in Oporto to inferior Murillos in the
convents of Seville. The train of his personal plunder had excited
anger, envy, or derision, according to the temper of the observer, as
it defiled through Madrid, when he quitted Spain five months back. He
had left behind him many adherents, who followed him for the same
motive for which he himself followed Napoleon. They rejoiced at his
return, believing, not in error, that his patronage would be exercised
in favour of old comrades of the Army of the South, rather than for the
benefit of strangers. Others held that he was to be welcomed because
any leadership would be better than that of King Joseph, and because
his undoubted military talents would be exercised in the best style
when he was working for his own credit, and not for that of any one
else. Like the Emperor, they had a great belief in his brains. It was
difficult to feel much personal enthusiasm for a chief so self-centred,
so cold and hard in his dealings with subordinates, so ready to shift
blame on to other men’s shoulders, so greedy in getting and so mean
in spending. But at any rate he would not be weak like Jourdan, or
rash like Marmont, or simply incapable like Dorsenne or Caffarelli. A
general who served as his senior aide-de-camp for eight uncomfortable
years, and left his staff with glee, sums him up in the following cruel
phrases:

‘In war he loved vigorous enterprises, and when once committed to a
scheme stuck to it with obstinacy and force. If I say that he loved
vigorous enterprises I must add that he loved them provided that
they did not involve too much personal danger, for he was far from
possessing the brilliant courage of Ney or Lannes. It might even be
said that he was the very reverse of rash--that he was a little too
careful of himself. This failing grew upon him after his great fortune
had come to him--and indeed it was not uncommon to meet officers
who showed no care of their lives when they were mere colonels or
brigadiers, but who in later years took cover behind their marshal’s
bâton. But this caution visible on the battlefield did not follow him
to the tent, under whose roof he conceived and ordered, often in the
presence of the enemy, movements of great audacity--whose execution
he handed over to officers of known courage and resolution[834].’
Another contemporary makes remarks to much the same effect, ‘Proud of
the reputation which he had usurped, he was full of assurance on the
day before a battle: he recovered that same assurance the day after a
defeat. But in action he seemed unable to issue good orders, to choose
good positions, or to move his troops freely. It seemed as if any
scheme which he had once conceived and written down at his desk was an
immutable decree from heaven, which he had not the power to vary by
subsequent changes[835].’

This is much what Wellington meant when he observed in familiar
conversation that Soult was not equal to Masséna. ‘He did not quite
understand a field of battle: he knew very well how to bring his troops
on to the field, but not so well how to use them when he had brought
them up[836].’

But on July 12th Soult, with his great opportunity before him, was in
his audacious mood, and it was in all sincerity that he had written to
the Emperor before he assumed his command, that he would concentrate
the army, and retake the offensive within a very few days, and that
he trusted to be able to stop the movements of Wellington. This was
no small promise considering the state in which the army was handed
over to him, and it is a marvellous proof of his driving power that he
actually succeeded in launching a most dangerous attack on Wellington’s
line by the thirteenth day after his arrival at Bayonne.

The detailed orders for the reorganization of the army were published
on July 15th. Soult had started with a general idea of the lines
on which they were to be carried out, and had just received a more
definite scheme from the Emperor, sent off from Dresden on July 5th
in pursuit of him. Napoleon ordered that not only were the armies of
the North, South, Centre, and Portugal to be abolished--their names
were now absurd anachronisms--but, despite of the great number of
troops available, no army corps were to be created. Evidently he
had come to the conclusion that not only army-commanders, but even
army-corps-commanders might be strong enough to impair the complete
control which he wished to give over to Soult. He directed that the
infantry should be divided into as many divisions of two brigades and
6,000 men each as the available total of bayonets could complete. The
Marshal was authorized to work them as he pleased, in groups of two,
three, or four divisions. To command these groups (which were really
army-corps in all but name) he might appoint three officers with the
title of lieutenant-general, who would have the divisional generals
under their orders. There were to be no special staffs for the groups,
whose composition the Marshal might alter from time to time: the
lieutenant-generals were only to be allowed a chief staff-officer and
their own personal aides-de-camp, and their pay was to be no more than
40,000 francs per annum. Clearly there was to be no recrudescence of
the enormous staffs and liberal perquisites and allowances of the old
corps-commanders.

Artillery might still be short, despite of the large number of guns
sent up to the front from Toulouse and Bordeaux. But the Emperor
directed that each infantry division ought to have two field batteries,
each cavalry division one horse artillery battery, and that Soult
ought to create an army-reserve of two horse artillery batteries and
several batteries of guns of position. There was to be one general
commanding artillery and one general commanding engineers for the whole
army, and (what was quite as important) one commissary general only,
in whose hands all responsibilities for food and transport were to be
centralized.

In a general way, but not in all details, Soult carried out these
orders. The gross total of the troops under his command would appear
to have been 117,789 of all ranks. But this included the garrisons
of St. Sebastian, Pampeluna, and Santoña, 8,200 men in all: also
5,595 half-trained conscripts of the Bayonne Reserve, 16,184 sick and
detached, and over 4,500 men of the non-combatant services--_ouvriers
militaires_, transport train, ambulance train, &c. Deducting these,
he had available 84,311 fighting men, of whom 72,664 were infantry,
7,147 cavalry, and about 4,000 artillery, sappers and miners,
gendarmerie[837], &c. This total does not include Paris’ troops from
Saragossa, who were lying at Jaca, and had not yet joined the Army of
Spain, being still credited to Suchet’s Army of Aragon and Valencia.

Soult created out of these elements nine fighting divisions of
infantry, two of cavalry, and a strong but miscellaneous Reserve
Corps, which had the equivalent of five brigades. The plan which he
adopted for the reorganization was to select nine of the old infantry
divisions (of which there had been 14-1/2) and to keep them as the
bases of the new units, drafting into them the battalions of the
other five[838]. Those abolished were the two divisions (Abbé’s and
Vandermaesen’s) of the Army of the North, Sarrut’s division of the
Army of Portugal, Leval’s of the Army of the South, and Darmagnac’s of
the Army of the Centre. Sarrut had been killed at Vittoria, Leval had
gone to Germany; but provision was made for the other three generals
whose divisions were ‘scrapped’: Abbé took over Villatte’s old division
of the Army of the South, while Villatte went to command the general
reserve. Vandermaesen was given the division of the Army of Portugal
lately under Barbot, who relapsed into the status of a brigadier.
Darmagnac went with the two French regiments of his old division to
join the surviving unit of the Army of the Centre, Cassagne’s division,
and took command of it--Cassagne, its former chief, disappearing.
Lastly, Daricau having been severely wounded at Vittoria, his division
was given to Maransin, whose independent brigade was absorbed. Thus,
of the old divisions, only those of Foy, Conroux, Maucune, Taupin,
Lamartinière, remained under their original leaders: the other four
surviving divisions got new chiefs, whose names are familiar to us, but
who had hitherto been connected with quite different troops.

Napoleon’s ideal of the ‘standard’ division of 6,000 men was not
accurately realized, owing to the fact that some corps had suffered
heavily and others hardly at all during the recent campaign. Putting
six regiments into each division, Soult found that he had created units
varying in size from Abbé’s with 8,030 men to Vandermaesen’s, with only
4,181. For there was no uniformity of size among the regiments, which
varied from 1,900 bayonets in three battalions[839] down to 430 in
one[840]. Abbé’s, Lamartinière’s, Conroux’s, and Darmagnac’s divisions
had 7,000 men each, or more; Foy’s, Taupin’s, and Maransin’s just
about 6,000; Vandermaesen’s and Maucune’s not much over 4,000 each.
It was still impossible to carry out Napoleon’s orders to give each
division two batteries of field artillery, only one apiece could be
provided; but, this moderate provision having been made, there remained
over for the general artillery reserve two batteries of horse and two
of field artillery. The army had in all 140 guns horsed--72 with the
infantry divisions, 32 with Villatte’s reserve, 12 with the cavalry
divisions, 24 as general army reserve. There were also three mountain
batteries--two- or three-pounders carried on muleback.

For his chief of the staff Soult chose Gazan, who had long served with
him in the same capacity in Andalusia. The late generals-in-chief of
the Armies of Portugal, the North and the Centre--Reille, Clausel, and
Drouet D’Erlon, naturally took the three lieutenant-generalcies: Soult
gave each of them three divisions in charge, but being prohibited from
calling these groups ‘army corps’, he styled them the ‘lieutenancies’
of the Right, Left, and Centre. These terms soon became anomalous--for
by the chances of manœuvre the ‘Centre’--D’Erlon’s group--during the
campaign of the Pyrenees fought on the right, the ‘left’ (Clausel)
in the Centre, and the ‘right’ (Reille) on the left wing. The absurd
nomenclature of the groups sometimes makes a French dispatch hard to
understand: it would have been much simpler to call the three groups
army-corps, but this designation was under taboo by the Emperor’s
special command.

Clausel took the left lieutenancy, because he and his troops, which
he had brought back from his long march in Aragon, were actually on
the left on June 15th: he had under him the two divisions, those of
Vandermaesen and Taupin, which practically represented the bulk of
his former column, with Conroux’s division which had remained at St.
Jean-Pied-du-Port when the rest of the Army of the South went to the
Bidassoa. The total of bayonets was 17,218--this was the weakest of the
‘lieutenancies’ because the individual regiments recently returned
from Aragon were low in numbers from three months of mountain warfare
against Mina.

D’Erlon had the Centre, with the divisions of Abbé and Maransin,
both consisting of old Andalusian regiments, and of Darmagnac, who
represented the French part of the Army of the Centre. His corps were
strong--just under 21,000 bayonets[841].

Reille, late chief of the Army of Portugal, had the remaining three
divisions, Foy, Maucune, and Lamartinière, all of them coming from his
own old command, and under officers who had long served in that army.
Their total strength was 17,235--many of the regiments were low in
numbers from the recent fighting in Biscay.

Each of the three ‘lieutenancies’ had a light cavalry regiment attached
to it--we should have called them corps-cavalry had the name been
permitted. They were weak--only 808 sabres between the three--but
sufficient for scouting purposes.

Adding the two cavalry divisions of Pierre Soult (the Marshal’s very
undistinguished but much cherished brother) and Treillard, the Army
of Spain had 7,147 sabres, including the remnants of the foreign
cavalry--Nassau Chasseurs, Spanish light horse, and Royal Guards, who
were something under 1,000 all told.

The very large body of troops under Villatte which Soult had left
outside his nine marching divisions, and his three ‘lieutenancies’,
consisted of a great number of battalions of the recently abolished
armies, which were left as a surplus, when the new formations had been
brought up to the six-regiment standard. They included of French troops
one odd battalion of the Army of Portugal, eleven of the Army of the
North, and six of the old Bayonne Reserve. The eighteen battalions were
mostly rather weak, and mustered only a little over 9,000 bayonets
between them.

In addition Villatte’s reserve included all the foreign
troops--Neuenstein’s _Rheinbund_ Germans, who had served so long
in the Army of the Centre, St. Pol’s Italian brigade, the King’s
Foot-Guards--a solid body of 2,000 infantry, all Frenchmen, though in
Spanish uniform--and the forlorn remnant of the _Afrancesados_--three
dwindling regiments under Casapalacios, which had shrunk from 2,000 to
1,100 bayonets during the last month.

Adding a battalion of foot-gendarmes from the evacuated Biscay
garrisons, and another of local National guards, Villatte had over
17,000 infantry--a force as big as Reille’s or Clausel’s lieutenancies.
There was some weak stuff among them[842], but the greater part were
experienced troops in nowise inferior to the units of the marching
divisions. It is hard to see why Soult did not make up a tenth
division out of the best of them: this would still have left Villatte
12,000 men, and would have been very useful in the fighting army. But
apparently, as will be seen during the narrative of the campaign of
July-August, he intended to use the Reserve in an active fashion, and
was foiled by the caution or timidity of Villatte, who discharged the
orders given him in a very half-hearted way. This mass of troops was
really quite capable of being used as a fighting unit--it had its four
batteries of field artillery, the foreign cavalry were allotted to
it, and a proportion of sappers and engineers. Even after leaving a
detachment--say the _Afrancesados_ and one or two of the weakest French
battalions--to aid the conscripts to garrison Bayonne, it could have
taken the field with 15,000 men of all arms[843].

To assume the offensive with a recently beaten army is dangerous.
Many of the regiments which Soult had to use had only a month before
recrossed the Pyrenees in a state of complete disorder: they had been
entirely out of hand, and had been guilty of outrages among the French
peasantry which recalled their worst doings in Spain. The greater
number of the senior officers had applied for service in the Army of
Germany the moment that they had crossed the frontier: it was refused
to nearly all of them. The junior officers would have made similar
applications, if they had thought that it would be of any use. Every
one of every rank was cursing King Joseph, luck, the weather, the
supply services, the War Ministry at Paris, and his own immediate
hierarchical superior: a _sentiment d’ineptie générale_ prevailed[844].
A great deal of this demoralization was mere nervous exhaustion,
resulting from long marches and semi-starvation extending over many
weeks. After a fortnight of comparative rest and more or less regular
rations it commenced to subside. The whole army consisted of veteran
troops proud of their regimental honour and their past victories: they
soon persuaded themselves that they had never been given a fair chance
in the recent campaign--Soult’s clever and malicious proclamation
exactly hit off their state of mind. It was easy to lay all the blame
on bad generalship, and to plead that a good half of the troops had
not fought at Vittoria: in full force and under a competent leader
they would have made mincemeat of the ‘motley levies’ of Wellington.
When the whole host was reassembled, after Clausel’s arrival, every
one could see that the numerical loss in the late disaster had been
very moderate: there were more French troops assembled on the Bidassoa
than any member of any of the armies had ever seen concentrated before.
Shame and anger replaced dejection in their minds: even the marauders
and deserters came back to the Eagles by thousands. Soult wrote to the
Minister of War that the disquieting state of indiscipline which he had
discovered on his arrival was subsiding, that marauding had ceased with
the distribution of regular rations, and that the morale of the army
was satisfactory.

The weakest part of the reorganization was, of course, the transport.
The army had lost all its wheeled vehicles and many of its animals in
the disaster of Vittoria: they had not been replaced in any adequate
fashion during the four short weeks that followed. By extraordinary
efforts the Commissariat had found food for every one, so long as the
main body of the army was encamped between Bayonne and the Bidassoa.
But it would be impossible to start it properly equipped for a long
mountain campaign far from its base. Soult took the desperate risk
of starting on July 23 with only four days’ rations in hand with the
marching columns: all that would be wanted later was to come up by
successive convoys sent out from the neighbourhood of Bayonne. And it
was little better with munitions for infantry and artillery alike. The
campaign became a time-problem: unless a decisive success were achieved
within the first four or five days, there was grave danger of the army
being brought to a stop. It would be helpless if it should have used
up all its cartridges in several days of continuous and severe, but
indecisive, fighting: or if bad weather should prevent the regular
appearance of convoys from the rear. This Soult knew, but thought that
his arrangements were calculated to secure that quick and decisive
victory which would justify all taking of risks.

The plan of campaign which the Marshal chose was one of the three
alternative schemes which the unlucky Jourdan had formulated during
his last days at the front[845]. It will be remembered that they were
(1) to endeavour to raise the siege of St. Sebastian by massing every
available man on the Bidassoa, and striking at Giron and Graham--who
was wrongly supposed to have only one British division with him. After
driving back Graham as far as Tolosa on the high road, it would be
possible to turn southward and relieve Pampeluna: Clausel’s corps,
meanwhile, should demonstrate in Navarre, to distract Wellington from
sending his reserves from the south to the main point of danger.
Both Jourdan on July 5 and Soult on July 23rd believed, the former
correctly, the latter wrongly, that there were three British divisions
engaged in the blockade of Pampeluna.

(2) To leave a corps of observation on the Bidassoa to contain
Graham, while the rest of the army struck at Pampeluna by the route
of Roncesvalles. This would have the advantage of raising the siege
of that place at once, though the relief of St. Sebastian would be
deferred. But, Jourdan added, it had three disadvantages--the road was
bad and might conceivably prove impracticable for artillery: the bulk
of the British divisions would probably be found concentrated for a
fight to cover the blockade: and Navarre was a country in which no army
could scrape together food enough to live upon.

(3) To leave a corps of observation on the Bidassoa, and convey the
rest of the army into Aragon, by the pass of Jaca, to join Suchet and
operate with overwhelming forces on the Ebro against Wellington’s flank
and rear. This, the operation which Jourdan regarded as the best of
the three, had since become impossible, because Paris had abandoned
Saragossa, and Suchet had taken his army to Catalonia: on July 17 he
was at Tarragona.

Soult’s plan was in essence Jourdan’s second alternative; but he
complicated it by dividing the army which was to strike at Pampeluna
into two columns. Two-thirds of the whole (Reille and Clausel) was to
march by the Roncesvalles passes; D’Erlon with the remainder was to
force the pass of Maya and to converge on Pampeluna by the Bastan and
the Col de Velate. Jourdan’s memorandum contained a special caution
against the dissemination of columns, ‘je pense que toute opération de
plusieurs corps isolés ne réussira pas.’ How frequently in military
history two columns starting from distant bases have failed to meet
on the appointed day is known to every student. It is seldom that a
complete success is secured--as at Königgrätz. Much more frequently the
enemy against whom the concentration was planned has beaten one corps
before the other--delayed by one of the uncountable chances of war--has
come upon the scene. And this was to be the case with Soult before
Pampeluna.

The advantages of Soult’s scheme were very comprehensible. The greatest
was that, owing to the existence of a first-class road from Bayonne
to St. Jean-Pied-du-Port, he could concentrate the main body of his
army upon his extreme left wing long before Wellington could make the
corresponding counter-move. In the early days of the operation he could
calculate on having an immense superiority of force on the Roncesvalles
front. It was more doubtful what would happen on the third or fourth
day, if Wellington divined his enemy’s plan at the first moment, and
ordered a general concentration before Pampeluna, as Jourdan had taken
for granted that he would. But Soult considered that he had found means
to make such a concentration impossible, by sending D’Erlon and his
20,000 men to pierce the allied left-centre at Maya, and to sweep down
the Bastan. If D’Erlon broke in on the first day, and got possession
of the positions that dominate the road-system of the Bastan--Elizondo
and the Col de Velate--the northern divisions of Wellington’s army
would only be able to join the southern divisions in front of Pampeluna
by immense détours to the west--by Santesteban and the Pass of Donna
Maria, or even by Tolosa and Yrurzun. In all human probability they
would arrive too late.

The British commander, as we shall see, did not divine Soult’s whole
purpose at the first moment, and therefore his general concentration
was ordered a day later than it might have been. And the officers who
were in charge of his extreme right at Roncesvalles gave way quicker
than he had intended. The campaign became a most interesting time
problem, which was settled in favour of Wellington in the end, by the
fact that his first-arriving northern reserves got to the positions in
front of Pampeluna a day before Soult’s secondary column under D’Erlon
came into touch with the French main body. The subordinate officers
on both sides made some extraordinary mistakes, which compromised the
plans of their superiors: the worst of them were in the line of slow
and irregular transmission of news, which in a mountain country, where
all side communications were difficult, and no general view of the
situation could be taken by the commander’s own eye, sometimes led to
ruinous miscalculations at head-quarters. It cannot be said that one
side suffered more than the other from this negligence of subordinates.

To proceed to the details. Soult’s left wing at St. Jean-Pied-du-Port
was ready to start, Conroux and Clausel’s old divisions having been
cantoned in the neighbourhood of that fortress ever since they arrived
in France; they were only one long march from their objective, the
gap of Roncesvalles. At the other end of the line, D’Erlon’s three
divisions were also within one long march of the Pass of Maya--they
already lay with their vanguard at Urdax and their last rear brigade at
Espelette. The difficulty lay with the third ‘lieutenancy’; Reille’s
three divisions of the old Army of Portugal on July 20th were on the
lower Bidassoa, holding the front opposite Graham and Giron; they had
to be got to St. Jean-Pied-du-Port, to join Clausel and co-operate
in the main attack[846]. To draw them out of their existing positions
without arousing too much attention at Wellington’s head-quarters was
comparatively easy. On the night of the 19th-20th four brigades of
Villatte’s reserve replaced Reille’s troops at the outposts. On the
following day the three fighting divisions concentrated at St. Jean de
Luz and started to march eastward, with orders to cross the Nive at
Cambo, and to get into the great _chaussée_ by Urcaray and Hellette,
which leads to St. Jean-Pied-du-Port. Drawing up a far too optimistic
time-chart, Soult had hoped that they would all be in the neighbourhood
of St. Jean-Pied-du-Port by the morning of the 22nd. As the distance
was not less than 50 miles, this would have been very hard work in
any case, for a long column marching with a large train of artillery,
as Reille was bringing up beside his own pieces three batteries for
Clausel, who had arrived gunless from Aragon. But the main cause of
delay was quite different: though the Bayonne-St. Jean-Pied-du-Port
_chaussée_ was excellent, the local cross-road from St. Jean de Luz by
St. Pée to the bridge of Cambo was not, and torrential rains on the
20th made it into a quagmire[847]. The troops got on very slowly, and
at night the bridge at Cambo was carried away by a spate, leaving the
bulk of Lamartinière’s division on the wrong side of the water. It was
repaired; but the general result was that the head of Reille’s column
only neared its destination late at night on the 22nd, while the rear
division and the guns did not get up till the 24th. The Marshal had
been waiting for them since the morning of the 21st, and had hoped to
start operations on the 23rd. He had been joined by his two cavalry
divisions, brought up from their cantonments between the Nive and the
Adour on that day, so that Reille’s delays put the movement of all the
other corps a day late.

On the 24th Soult was able to commence moving up both Clausel’s and
Reille’s columns toward the Roncesvalles gap, so that they should be
able to attack it on the 25th at an early hour. D’Erlon, being already
in position in front of Maya, was only waiting for the signal to
march. Villatte had been given orders which left a good deal to his
private judgement, to the effect that he must simulate an offensive
attitude on the Bidassoa front, but make no real attack till he knew
that D’Erlon had got well forward in the Bastan and that Graham’s flank
was threatened. He might then push the latter with confidence, as the
allied troops on the coast would have to give way, and to raise the
siege of St. Sebastian, if their centre in the Bastan had been broken
and driven westward.

It is interesting to find in a dispatch which Soult sent to Paris on
the 23rd his estimate of the position of Wellington’s line of defence.
He starts fairly well--Graham with the 1st Division is on the heights
beyond the Bidassoa: Oswald with the 5th Division and a Spanish (it
should be a Portuguese) corps besieges St. Sebastian. The 7th Division
under Lord Dalhousie holds the front Vera-Echalar. Then comes a curious
blunder--the 6th Division under General Hay is on the (French) left of
the 7th Division. Really it was in reserve at Santesteban, and under
Pack; Clinton, who had only taken over command after long sick leave on
June 22nd, having again fallen ill. General Hill, with the 2nd Division
under W. Stewart, and Hamilton’s Portuguese (Silveira had superseded
Hamilton many months back) is in the Bastan, and holds ‘with camps and
batteries’ the passes of Maya and Ispegui. We are assured that the
3rd and 4th Divisions and a Spanish corps are besieging Pampeluna.
‘There seems to be another division (probably the 8th Division) under
a General Bird in position at Altobiscar, above Roncesvalles. There is
an English (Portuguese) brigade under General Campbell in the Alduides.
The Spaniards of the Army of Galicia guard the Bidassoa from Vera to
the sea.’

It will be noted that this reconstruction of Wellington’s line makes
the covering force in front of Pampeluna too weak, for it is believed
to consist of ‘Bird’s’ division (a mistake for Byng’s brigade?) and
the force of Campbell in the Val de Alduides only. Really the Conde de
Abispal’s Andalusians had relieved the 3rd and 4th Divisions on July
16-17, and they were free, and disposable as a reserve to the troops
on the Roncesvalles front--Picton being at Olague in the valley of
the Lanz, Cole at Viscarret on the Pampeluna-Roncesvalles road: Pack
and the 6th Division at Santesteban were only a little farther away.
Moreover, Morillo’s Spaniards were up in line with Byng. The Light
Division makes no appearance in Soult’s table, unless he means the 8th
Division under ‘General Bird’ to represent it.

There is therefore a grave miscalculation when Soult ends by informing
Clarke that, after examining the whole Allied line, he has come to the
conclusion that the right wing is the weak point, and the one that
should be attacked, by a flank movement which he will continue till
he has turned its rear. If Wellington’s plans had worked out well,
there would have happened what Jourdan had foreseen, viz. so vigorous
a resistance in the passes by the British outlying troops, that Soult
would only have arrived in front of Pampeluna to find the main bulk of
Wellington’s army offering him battle in front of the besieged city.
But, as we shall see, Cole and Picton received Wellington’s orders just
too late to allow them to carry out the policy which he dictated.

Such were Soult’s views of Wellington’s situation. It remains to be
seen what Wellington made of Soult’s intentions. He was from the
first conscious that the Marshal’s appearance might mean a prompt
resumption of the offensive by the enemy[848]. And the movements of
the French were reported to him with very fair accuracy and dispatch.
As early as the 22nd he was aware that the enemy was weakening his
front on the Bidassoa, and that troops were accumulating at St.
Jean-Pied-du-Port[849]. On the 24th he knew that the force moved in
that direction must be the larger half of the French army. But his
judgement on the meaning of this movement was entirely coloured by the
fact that he had breached St. Sebastian, and that he believed, like
Graham, that it would be stormed successfully on the 24th or 25th.
He also knew that Soult was being informed, day by day, of the state
of the fortress. On the other hand, he was aware that Pampeluna was
quite safe--it had food enough to last for several weeks at least, and
he was not pressing it hard, as he was pressing St. Sebastian. From
this he deduced the conclusion that Soult could not in honour suffer
St. Sebastian to be taken almost under his eyes, as it would be unless
he intervened. Therefore the moving of troops--even large numbers of
troops--towards St. Jean-Pied-du-Port, must be a feint, because the
Marshal’s obvious duty was to save St. Sebastian--while Pampeluna was
in no danger. He read the French manœuvres as an attempt to distract
his attention from the Bidassoa. And his idea that a desperate attempt
would be made to relieve St. Sebastian seemed to be borne out by the
fact that Villatte was making flying bridges at Urogne, and that French
boats were running in to the mouth of the Bidassoa from St. Jean de
Luz. Still, if reports were correct, the enemy was likely to make
a very serious demonstration on the Roncesvalles front. Wellington
therefore wrote to Cole on the 23rd that he was not to allow himself
to be pushed in too easily towards Pampeluna. ‘You should support
Major-General Byng in the defence of the passes as effectually as you
can, without committing his troops and the 4th Division against a force
so superior that the advantage of the ground would not compensate
it. You will be good enough to make arrangements further back also,
for stopping the enemy’s progress toward Pampeluna, in the event of
your being compelled to give up the passes which General Byng now
occupies.... A sure communication should exist with General Sir Thomas
Picton, and Sir Thomas should be apprised of any movement of troops,
either upon the Roncesvalles road, or upon that of Eugui and the
Alduides, in order that he may make such arrangements as circumstances
may dictate for giving support, should such an event occur.... It is
desirable that you should transmit a daily report for the present to
Head Quarters[850].’

This was followed up by even more stringent orders on the following
day. George Murray wrote to Cole, ‘Lord Wellington has desired that
I should express still more strongly how essential he considers it
that the passes in front of Roncesvalles should be maintained to the
utmost. And I am to direct you to be so good as to make every necessary
arrangement for repelling effectually any direct attack that the enemy
may make in that quarter.... Lord Wellington attaches very little
importance to any wider turning movement which the enemy might make
upon our right. The difficulties and delays of any wider movement are
considerable obstacles, and would retard him sufficiently to give time
to make other arrangements to stop his progress[851].’

It would be most inaccurate to say that Wellington was surprised by
Soult’s offensive at the southern end of his line, as these orders
sufficiently demonstrate. At the same time he remained till late on
the night of the 25th firmly convinced that the French move in Navarre
was a feint or subsidiary operation, and that the real attack would be
on the Bidassoa. On the 24th, knowing of the accumulation of hostile
troops before Roncesvalles, he wrote to Graham that undoubtedly the
enemy is very strong on that side, ‘but only because he entertains
serious designs to draw away our attention from the side of Irun,
and then to attempt to pass the river[852].’ And on the same morning
he wrote to Giron that ‘the enemy’s main force has moved towards St.
Jean-Pied-du-Port; but his two pontoon bridges remain at Urogne. It
would seem that he intends to distract our attention to the other
side, and then to make a try at the river. But as (at 11 a.m.) I no
longer hear the guns at St. Sebastian, I am hoping that its business
has been settled[853].’ It will be remembered that the projected storm
on the 24th had been postponed because of the conflagration, so that
the cessation of the firing had not the happy meaning that Wellington
attributed to it.

On the morning of the 25th, when the unsuccessful attempt on St.
Sebastian was actually made, Wellington was up at early dawn, listening
once more to the guns, as he strode up and down in the churchyard of
Lesaca. Again they stopped, after two hours of furious fire, just as
on the preceding day; and again Wellington hoped that ‘the business
had been settled’--that the French scheme (as he conceived it) had
been foiled, because there was now no garrison at St. Sebastian left
for Soult to relieve. But ere noon there arrived a dejected messenger
to report that there had been this time no postponed assault, but a
serious attack defeated with very heavy loss. This unhappy fact upset
all Wellington’s calculations: if the failure had been very disastrous,
it would result that St. Sebastian must be reckoned as in no immediate
danger; and Soult’s heavy demonstration in front of Roncesvalles might
prove to be no feint, but a real attempt to relieve Pampeluna. Yet
Wellington still doubted this interpretation of the enemy’s move: ‘one
can hardly believe that with 30,000 men he proposes to force himself
through the passes of the mountains. The remainder of his force, one
must think, must come into operation on some other point, either
to-morrow or the day after[854].’ In fact he still opined that there
would be an assault on the Bidassoa--not understanding that the enemy’s
surplus, or the greater part of it--D’Erlon’s column of 21,000 men--was
striking at the Maya Pass, and was in possession of it at the moment
when he wrote this dispatch to Graham.

Meanwhile the great thing was to discover exactly what was the
condition of affairs at St. Sebastian, and Wellington rode over the
hills in haste to visit Graham, before any notice of the attacks of
the French at Maya and at Roncesvalles had come to hand. He spent a
long afternoon opposite the fortress, with the results that have been
explained in the preceding chapter. It was only on his ride back to
Lesaca in the dark that he met the first messenger of evil. His Chief
of the Staff, George Murray, had sent out an officer to tell him that
furious firing had been audible from the side of the Maya passes all
through the afternoon. But no explanatory dispatch had been received
either from W. Stewart in command at Maya itself, or from Hill, in
charge of the whole defence of the Bastan. This was astonishing, as
there was a properly established line of communication along the Bastan
to head-quarters; rumours had come to hand that the enemy was stopped,
but no official report. On reaching Lesaca an hour later, Wellington
found an officer sent by Cole from Roncesvalles awaiting him, who
brought the news that the French were attacking on that front in
overpowering numbers. But up to midday, when the messenger had started,
no breach had been made in the British line[855].

Late at night news did finally come from the Maya front. Stewart
sent a verbal message that he had lost the pass, and though he had
regained it for a moment by the aid of a brigade of the 7th Division,
Hill had ordered him to fall back. This was confirmed by a letter from
Hill, which said that Stewart had been driven out of the pass, but that
they were going to try to hold on in a position at Elizondo, ten miles
farther down the Bastan. It was owing to absolutely criminal negligence
on the part of his subordinates that Wellington learned the details of
a fight that had begun at about 11 a.m., only twenty miles away, at no
earlier an hour than 10 p.m. But late as it was, he had now at last the
information which enabled him to guess at Soult’s general design, and
to give orders for dealing with it.

[Illustration: The Country between BAYONNE & PAMPLONA]

SECTION XXXVIII: CHAPTER III

RONCESVALLES AND MAYA

Soult, though a day later than he had intended, was ready for his great
stroke at the passes by dawn on July 25th. The main blow was to be
delivered on the Roncesvalles front, where he had the 34,000 infantry
of Reille and Clausel assembled, not to speak of the two cavalry
divisions, which would only become useful when he should reach the
plain of Pampeluna. So much was D’Erlon’s attack on the Maya passes the
secondary part of the scheme, that we find Soult informing that general
that his advance would probably be facilitated by the arrival in the
enemy’s camp of the news that Roncesvalles had been forced: this would
compel Hill to fall back down the Bastan, and he should be pursued as
briskly as possible.

The Roncesvalles business was therefore the more important part of
the programme for July 25th. The Marshal had chosen for the routes of
Clausel and Reille two roads, which climb up from St. Jean-Pied-du-Port
and the valley of the Nive to the bleak plateau above the historic
abbey, where the relics of Roland were still shown. Between them lies a
broad and deep valley, the Val Carlos, with the mountain stream called
the Nive d’Arneguy running down its middle. The eastern road climbs
the slopes to the (French) left of the valley: it was practicable for
artillery and vehicles, and sappers had been working for the last few
days to improve some of its more tiresome curves. This road, after
passing the Venta d’Orisson, the last inhabited spot on the north
slope, and the ruined fort of Château Pignon, comes to the crest
under a hill called Leiçaratheca, immediately in front of the higher
position called Altobiscar, where the watershed lies. It then passes
for a mile along this watershed known as the ridge of Ibaneta, and
descends by curves to the abbey on the Spanish side. The other road, no
more than a mountain track in 1813, and quite impracticable for guns
or transport, climbs uphill on the western slopes of the Val Carlos,
only three or four miles from the better route as the crow flies, but
always separated from it by the broad and deep intervening combe. After
passing the village of Arneguy, it gets up on to the narrow crest of
the mountain, the Airola, which separates the Val Carlos from the Val
Haira, the next valley westward. Along this ridge it winds for five or
six miles, till the crest joins the main watershed of the Pyrenees at
a small plateau called the Linduz, about two miles or so west of the
point on the Ibaneta ridge where the other road comes in. A practicable
track along the watershed joins them. Since 1813 the whole of the
road-geography of this stretch of the Pyrenees has been changed, by the
construction of a metalled _chaussée_ from Arneguy up the Val Carlos,
which did not exist in 1813: it goes along the slopes, not along the
actual crest, like the mere track which Reille’s men had to follow on
July 25th, and is now a better route than the old high road by Venta
d’Orisson and Château Pignon. From the Linduz there is a steep path
going straight down into Spain, without joining the Roncesvalles road:
it is called the Puerto de Mendichuri, and leads to Espinal. The little
plateau has yet another exit; along the crests to its west comes in
a very bad track from the valley of the Alduides, named the path of
Atalosti. It is because it lay at such a ganglion of joining ridges,
that the Linduz was marked by a ruined earthwork--a relic of the war of
1793-4.

To understand the general lie of the fighting ground, it must be
remembered that from the Linduz to Altobiscar is about three miles of
saddle-back ridge, lowest in the middle, where the _chaussée_ crosses
the sky-line at 3,600 feet above sea-level, while the highest point of
the Linduz is about 4,200, and that of Altobiscar about 4,900 feet up.
The descent into France is much steeper than that into Spain--Burguete
and Espinal are only 700 feet below the summit of the pass, Arneguy
and the village of Val Carlos on the French side 3,000 feet below it.
This is the reason that caused Soult to send his right column along
the lofty path on the Airola ridge, from which they could approach the
Linduz on a level, instead of bidding them climb up direct from the
deep-sunk bottom of the Val Carlos trough.

It should be added that the scenery of the three miles of the
Roncesvalles front is not precipitous or Alpine. There are some
outcrops of rock in certain places--e. g. along the front of the
Leiçaratheca hill, but the prevailing aspect is rather like that of
Scottish highland scenery on a large scale. The slopes are mostly short
slippery grass, not unclimbable for a good walker, though difficult for
the soldier of 1813 carrying the 70 lb. of his fighting kit and heavy
knapsack. The lower skirts of the hills are covered in many parts with
woods of pine and beech and stunted undergrowth of oak: in some places
these stretch up right to the summits--the Linduz has thick foliage on
its eastern flank, and the ridge leading to it from the Airola spur
has trees on both sides of the narrow track which winds along its
crest, so that troops ascending it are only intermittently visible.
Much of the Ibaneta position--the central saddle between the Linduz
and Altobiscar--is covered with bush. But from the highest summits
there are long and clear views over the woods and the grass-slopes
alike--views much more commanding, it may be noted, toward the French
than toward the Spanish side. So striking is the general effect that,
even on the morning of battle, it fixed itself on the minds of several
of the combatants as a memory not to be forgotten[856]: fighting has
seldom taken place with such a broad and majestic horizon.

Soult knew that his attack would be expected on the high
road--Clausel’s troops had been visible to Byng’s outposts for some
time, and on the night of the 24th there had been a slight skirmish of
picquets between the Leiçaratheca and Château-Pignon. But he was under
the impression that he would take the enemy entirely by surprise in
his second attack, that directed against the Linduz by the obscure and
difficult path along the crest of the Airola mountain, which since the
war of 1793-4 had only been used by shepherds and smugglers. And on to
this narrow path he pushed the full half of his infantry--the whole
of Reille’s three divisions. It is probable that we must write down
the whole of this movement as a mistake: the track was so bad that it
could only be used by daylight--at night it would have been impossible
to discover the way, among steep slopes and thickets. There were so
many ups and downs, and the grass slopes on each side were so slippery,
that nothing could be done in the dark. The actual result was that
the whole 17,000 bayonets of Reille advanced with a front of two men,
or even in Indian file, forming a sort of procession many miles long.
The head battalion was fighting hard on the Linduz before the tail
battalion had begun to stir from Arneguy. Reille had made over his
batteries and his regiment of corps-cavalry to Clausel, receiving in
return eight mountain guns carried by mules, and a train of pack-beasts
laden with infantry ammunition. It is obvious that a movement of this
sort could only succeed if the enemy was surprised, since the column
had no thrusting-power; it was all length without breadth, and one
brigade ready at the Linduz might hold up the entire three divisions,
which would have no space to deploy so as to make their numbers felt.
This, as we shall see, is precisely what happened: the Linduz was found
in British occupation, and Reille was blocked for the whole day in
front of a very inferior force.

On the Château Pignon-Altobiscar road Soult had sent forward the whole
of Clausel’s force, the three divisions one behind the other, in the
order Vandermaesen-Taupin-Conroux. Behind the last infantry division
was the cavalry, and then all the guns and transport. Everything on
wheels belonging to Reille had been put in at the tail of Clausel’s
impedimenta. This made a column of interminable length. The conditions
were better for an advance on this front than on the western track,
since the road was broad and the slopes on each side of it fairly
practicable: but there were formidable positions to be carried before
the watershed could be reached.

Byng and Morillo had been for three weeks at the Roncesvalles passes,
but it was only eight days since they had been put under the command
of Cole, who had come up with the 4th Division from his long stay in
front of Pampeluna. And it was only on the 22nd that Wellington had
sent to Cole the warning that the French main body was moving toward
St. Jean-Pied-du-Port, and that he might expect to be attacked. On the
23rd Cole received the stringent orders which have been quoted on an
earlier page, but the still stronger message of the 24th seems only to
have reached him after the fighting had begun.

While Byng and Morillo were in charge they had evidently counted on
being attacked along the high-road, and possibly also in the depths
of the Val Carlos. But no serious attempt had been made to cover the
highland path that comes out on the Linduz, much farther west. It was
only watched by a picquet--one company of Morillo’s men encamped in
the ruined redoubt of 1793 on the Linduz. The other points of access
were carefully blocked: Byng had a strong first line of defence
on the Leiçaratheca hill, whose rocky upper face gave good cover
for skirmishers. It was held by the three light companies of his
brigade, the attached company of the 5/60th and one battalion[857]
and three light companies from Morillo’s right-hand brigade. Two
miles behind was the real fighting position, occupied by the Buffs
and the ‘1st Provisional’ (2/31st and 2/66th), with two of Morillo’s
battalions[858]. Byng’s third battalion, the 1/57th, was detached far
downhill to the left, on the lower slopes of the Altobiscar, watching
the Val Carlos. The third Spanish battalion of Morillo’s right-hand
brigade, Leon, was detached in a similar fashion to the right, to the
foot of the Altobiscar heights, to guard a by-path, which crosses the
main chain of the mountains and comes down into the upper valley of the
Irati river at the foundry of Orbaiceta.

The remaining battalions of Morillo’s left-hand brigade[859] were down
in the Val Carlos, on ground south of the village of the same name,
in a position blocking the upper and higher end of that deep-sunk
depression. They covered the flank of the Altobiscar heights, and were
not far from the 1/57th. Their line of retreat, if they should be
pushed, was up a very steep path, which comes into the _chaussée_ on
the Ibaneta ridge[860]. It was this brigade which supplied the picquet
on the Linduz, the only precaution taken to cover the extreme left of
the Allies’ fighting ground. The whole force on the front originally
consisted of 2,000 bayonets of Byng’s brigade and 3,800 in Morillo’s
six battalions.

When Cole took over from Byng the general responsibility for the safety
of the eastern passes, he brought up his head-quarters to Viscarret
in the valley of the Erro, but placed his first British brigade, that
of Ross, at Espinal, in the valley of the Urrobi, on the high road to
Roncesvalles, only five miles from the abbey and the ‘Puerto’, and
three from the pass of Mendichuri leading up to the Linduz. He was thus
in a position to reinforce the passes at two or three hours’ notice
with one brigade, and with his whole 6,000 bayonets in half a day’s
march. On the night of the 24th, having received both Wellington’s
first letter of warning and Byng’s report that his picquets had been
attacked, Cole resolved to bring up his reserves nearer to the front.
By the most fortunate of inspirations he directed Ross’s brigade to
march before dawn--at 2 a.m.--and to occupy the head of the Mendichuri
pass and the Linduz.

Ross, obeying orders all the more readily because he had just received
Spanish information that the Linduz was going to be attacked next
day[861], moved off in the dark, and mounted the Mendichuri, much
incommoded on the way by sharp turns where trees had been blown down in
a recent storm, and cumbered the path. He had the 20th with him: the
7th was following: the 23rd was left behind at Espinal, to start by
daylight and bring on the baggage. Though the distance to the Linduz
was only three miles, it took in the darkness more than four hours to
reach the summit[862]. There everything was found quiet at dawn--the
Spanish picquet in the old redoubt indeed was so sleepy that Ross and
his staff rode into them without having been challenged[863]. Dawn had
now come; though nothing suspicious had been observed, the general sent
out the Brunswick-Oels company attached to the brigade to reconnoitre
along the spur in front, while the 20th piled arms and lay down on the
summit, to eat and get some rest after the night march. In the far
distance to the north-west the tents of Campbell’s Portuguese, encamped
on the farther side of the Alduides valley were perfectly visible. But
shortly after 6 o’clock distant musketry began to be heard from the
other flank--the direction of the Leiçaratheca--where the busy day’s
work was just beginning. It was some time, however, before Ross’s
brigade came in for their share of it.

Soult’s attack, as we have seen, was delivered by two columns each of
17,000 men, and each striking by one narrow road at a vital point of
the enemy’s defences. There was practically no dispersion of forces
on subsidiary enterprises, for the two demonstrations which he made
on his flanks on the morning of the 25th were trifling affairs. To
distract the attention of Campbell’s brigade in the Alduides, he
directed all the National Guards of the Val de Baigorry and the other
western valleys to assemble on the mountain called Hausa, opposite
the Portuguese camp, to light many fires there, as if they marked the
bivouacs of a large force, and to show themselves at many points.
Little good came of this to the National Guards, for Campbell, an
active officer, marched at them without delay, and drove them in
helpless rout down the valley. But Soult (unlike the unfortunate local
levy) profited perceptibly from the move, for the noise of firing drew
down to the Alduides the two British generals responsible for the
Bastan--Hill and W. Stewart. And while they were absent, off their own
ground, their troops at Maya were attacked, and suffered many things
for want of a commander.

A second similar demonstration was made in the valley east of
Roncesvalles. Here the local National Guards, backed by a battalion of
the 59th under Colonel Loverdo, crossed the main chain of the mountains
and attacked Morillo’s right flank-guard--the regiment of Leon--at
the foundry of Orbaiceta in the Irati valley. The Spaniards defended
themselves stoutly, and held their ground all day. But the noise of
this skirmishing far to their right rear was decidedly trying to the
nerves of Byng and Morillo, who for some time could not be certain
that their flank had not been turned by a respectable force. However,
nothing came of this skirmish, since it grew evident by the afternoon
that the enemy was weak and unable to press forward. It is barely
worth putting on record that one battalion detached from the tail of
Conroux’s division, went up the trough of the Val Carlos, and watched
Morillo’s left-hand brigade without attempting to close with it.

Having dismissed these feints, concerning which no more need be said,
we may proceed to the real fighting. At about 6 a.m. Vandermaesen’s
division, at the head of Clausel’s long column, neared the hill of
Leiçaratheca, where the seven British and Spanish light companies were
ensconced in the rocky slope commanding the high road. The position had
obviously to be stormed by frontal attack if there was reason to hurry,
for it could only be turned by very long flanking movements over the
steep slopes on each side of the road. General Barbot, commanding the
leading brigade, deployed the 1st Line and 25th Léger, and attacked
with a swarm of _tirailleurs_ the whole front of the hill. The attack
failed completely, the defenders being under good cover and perfectly
steady. The French, when their first rush had been stopped, threw
themselves down among the stones and gorse, and kept up a useless fire
upon their almost invisible adversaries. Clausel, after three hours
of this profitless bickering, sent in high rage a message to Barbot,
that he would have him cashiered, unless he pulled his men together
and delivered a serious attack[864]. Meanwhile the French battalions
were coming up one after another from the rear, and accumulating behind
the single brigade that was engaged. Barbot called back his disordered
troops, re-formed them in column, put in a fresh battalion, and made
a second and a third attack on the hill: all naturally failed--the
troops being tired and discouraged. But the matter was finally settled
by the divisional general, Vandermaesen, leading off his three rear
battalions[865] across the steep hillside to the east, and turning the
Leiçaratheca by a long détour. At the same time Clausel began to shell
the position with six guns brought up from the rear. When Byng saw his
outlying force in danger of being cut off, he ordered it to retire to
his main body on the Altobiscar. This it did in good time, and when
Clausel again advanced against the Leiçaratheca frontally, with the
50th-Line, while the flanking column drew in on the right flank, he
received only a few shots from lingering skirmishers, and occupied the
position with the loss of 9 men killed only.

So long had the turning movement taken, that by the time that the
French had got back into order again, and could advance towards
Byng’s real fighting ground, it was past 3 o’clock in the afternoon.
The Altobiscar position was even more formidable than that on the
Leiçaratheca; Clausel looked at it, felt it, and did not like it:
it was impossible to turn save by a vast détour: this, he says in
his dispatch, he was preparing to do, by sending his rear division
(Conroux) to circumvent the whole crest of Altobiscar and the still
higher summit to the east of the road, a march of many miles. But at 5
o’clock a dense mountain fog rose, the enemies became invisible to each
other, and all movement became impossible. Byng was left unattacked
upon his chosen position--though not destined to stop there. The losses
on both sides had been absurdly small, considering that 17,000 French
had faced 6,000 British and Spaniards for eleven hours. But really only
Vandermaesen’s division on one side and the Allied light companies on
the other had been engaged. Clausel says that he had but 160 killed
and wounded--among the last General Vandermaesen himself[866]. Byng
and Morillo had 120 casualties--the former remarks that this was an
extraordinarily low figure considering that the French had shelled the
Leiçaratheca for some time--but the cover was good[867]. There were
more Spaniards hurt than British: their conduct had been exemplary.
Morillo himself had been there, exposing himself with his usual
reckless courage.

At the other end of the line the fighting was much more serious. It
will be remembered that at 6 o’clock Ross was on the Linduz, with
his leading battalion, and a second close behind: the third had only
recently started the climb up from Espinal by the Mendichuri. He sent
out his light companies to observe the northern slope of the plateau
which he had occupied, that of Brunswick-Oels being directed along the
wooded spur or crest which forms the western wall of the depression of
the Val Carlos. Meanwhile the troops listened to the commencement of
the long roll of musketry, which told how Clausel was attacking Byng on
the other side of that valley. Three or four hours passed; General Cole
rode by on his way to visit the Roncesvalles front, told Ross to keep
a good look-out, and informed him that Anson’s and Stubbs’s brigade
were coming up via Burguete, the former to reinforce the Spaniards at
the foundry of Orbaiceta, the latter to the Ibaneta to support Byng.
Somewhere about 11 o’clock, according to our best eye-witness, the
outlying picquet of the Brunswick company detected dust rolling above
the beech copses which masked the crest-path in front of them, and a
little later caught intermittent glimpses of troops passing between the
trees. It was doubted whether they were French, or some of Morillo’s
troops retiring from Val Carlos. But about noon, Ross, having been
warned to look for trouble, told the Brunswickers to advance and verify
the character of the approaching strangers, while he himself called up
the left wing of the 20th regiment and followed in support: the rest
of the brigade were directed to stand to their arms on the Linduz.
The German light company went forward some half a mile on a very
up-and-down track, till they got quite close to the oncoming troops,
who appeared to be in no particular order, a straggling crowd advancing
along the crest, which is here only thirty yards broad, with trees
and bushes on both flanks. When there was no more than eighty yards
between the parties the French dressed their front, so as to cover
the whole breadth of the ridge, and began to fire. They were the two
_compagnies d’élite_ of the 6th Léger, the leading battalion of Foy’s
division, at the head of Reille’s column; close behind them the rest
of their battalion was pushing up, as quickly as was possible with
men moving on such a narrow track. The sixty Brunswickers, finding
themselves in front of such a superior force, fell back, firing, on
their supports, pursued by the enemy. General Ross, wanting to gain
time for his brigade on the Linduz to deploy, ordered the leading
company of the 20th--No. 8, Captain Tovey’s--to charge with the bayonet
and throw the French back. There followed one of the rarest things in
the Peninsular War, a real hand-to-hand fight with the white weapon.
The French skirmishers in front gave way into the bushes, clearing the
front of the company behind them. Then the two parties, each advancing
up one side of a small declivity, met face to face at the top, with
only ten yards between them when they came in sight of each other. ‘The
French instinctively stepped back a pace,’ says the Brunswick officer
who has left us the best account of this clash, ‘several of them made
a half turn, as if about to give way; but their officers, some with
appeals, some with threats, and some with curses, kept them to their
work. They stood firm, and their bayonets came down to the charge: so
did those of Tovey’s company. For a few seconds the two sides surveyed
each other at a distance of two paces: then one French company officer
sprang forward into the middle of the British, and began cutting right
and left. He was at once bayoneted, and then the two sides began to
fence cautiously with each other, keeping their line and not breaking
forward into the enemy’s ranks; it was more like bayonet drill than a
charge. I do not think that more than a dozen men fell on either side.
After a minute the English captain saw that the French supports were
closing in--he shouted ‘right about face’, and his men trotted back.
When our front was clear of them, our five (four)[868] companies opened
fire by platoons, and as the distance was only 100 yards we saw heaps
of the French fall at each volley[869].’ Tovey’s company lost 11 killed
and 14 wounded out of about 75 present in this extraordinary adventure,
which had given the three rear companies and the Brunswickers time to
form up across the crest and in the bushes on each side of it. It is
astonishing that a man of the 8th Company got away--clearly the enemy
had been too much astonished to pursue as he might have done[870].

The fight on the path that leads to the Linduz now became a very
confused and constricted business, with many casualties on both sides,
since French and English were firing at each other along a sort of
avenue and could hardly miss. Foy’s second battalion, the 1/69th, had
now reinforced his first, and finally the left wing of the 20th, badly
thinned, gave way and fell back in some disorder to the point where
the crest-path debouches on to the Linduz plateau. Here all was ready
for defence--the right wing of the 20th, with the regimental colours
flying, was waiting ready for the enemy, with the 1/7th in immediate
support and the 1/23rd in reserve. When the narrow-fronted French
column tried to burst out of the defile, officers in front, drums
beating the _pas de charge_, a long-reserved volley smote it, and all
the leading files went down. There was a pause before the third of
Foy’s battalions, the 2/69th, got to the front and tried a similar
attack, which failed with even greater loss. For the whole of the rest
of the afternoon spasmodic fighting went on at the Linduz. ‘The enemy
was visible,’ writes one of Ross’s brigade, ‘several thousands strong,
on the higher part of the spur; every half-hour or so he sent another
company down to relieve his skirmishers. He always came up in detail
and slowly, for there was a tiresome defile to cross, over a deep
cutting in the crest[871], where only one man abreast could pass. We
could always let the head of the attack debouch, and then attack it and
throw it back upon its supports[872].’ No attempt was made to turn the
Linduz by its eastern side, among the steep slopes and thickets at the
head of Val Carlos: all attacks came straight along the spur. Reille
attributes this in his dispatch to the dreadful delays at the rear of
his long column, owing to the narrowness of the path. He acknowledges
that an attempt should have been made to push on to the Ibaneta, but
it was 3.30 before Maucune’s first battalion began to arrive to Foy’s
assistance, and 5 before the rear of his division was up. ‘By this hour
it was too late to think of turning movements’--even if the fog which
stopped Clausel had not swept down on the Linduz also. As a matter of
fact only Foy’s four front regiments--five battalions--were put into
the fight[873]. Similarly on the British side the fight was sustained
only by the 20th, relieved, after its cartridges were all spent, by the
7th and the 23rd.

Reille does not omit to mention that after the first hour of fight was
over, Cole had begun to show reserves on the Linduz which would have
made any attack by Foy’s division, unsupported, quite hopeless. It
will be remembered that the commander of the 4th Division had started
Anson’s brigade for Orbaiceta, and Stubbs’s brigade for the Ibaneta
ridge, when first the attack on Byng was reported, and he had gone to
the Altobiscar himself to watch the progress of affairs on that side.
While he was there Foy’s attack on the Linduz developed: Cole at once
rode to the left, to see how Ross was faring, and in consequence sent
downhill to bid Anson abandon his long march to the extreme right,
and to turn up the Roncesvalles pass, as Stubbs did also. The British
brigade took post on Ross’s right; the Portuguese brigade on the
Ibaneta, watching the steep path from the Val Carlos. Up this there
presently came the 1/57th and the Spanish battalions which had been
near them. Thus Cole showed a continuous line from the Altobiscar to
the Linduz, held by 11,000 men placed in a most formidable position not
more than three miles long. Nor was this all--General Campbell in the
Alduides, after scattering the National Guards who had tried to delude
him in the early morning, had heard the firing at Roncesvalles, and
(though he had no orders) thought it his duty to march with his five
Portuguese battalions toward the sound of battle. Taking the highland
track along the upper end of the Alduides, he appeared on Ross’s left
at 4 o’clock in the afternoon by the so-called path of Atalosti. He was
in a position to outflank any attempts that Reille might make to turn
Ross’s position on the western side.

When the fog fell Soult was in a very unpleasant situation. Having
chosen to attack his enemy with narrow-fronted columns of immense
depth, over two constricted routes, he had been brought to a complete
check. Clausel had driven in Byng’s outpost, but was stuck in front of
the Altobiscar: Reille had failed to move Ross at all, and was blocked
in front of the Linduz. The losses had been negligible, it is true--not
much over 500 in all if the Marshal is to be believed. But those of
the Allies were still smaller, and the confidence of the men had been
raised by the way in which they had easily blocked for some ten hours,
and with small loss, an army whose vast strength they could estimate
by the interminable file of distant troops crawling up the roads in
the rear[874]. If the men, however, were cheerful, their commander
was not. Cole estimated the French at 30,000 men and more, and quite
correctly: he had himself only 11,000 in line, with 2,000 more of
Campbell’s Portuguese in touch on his left. Picton’s 3rd Division,
which lay at Olague on the morn of the 25th, had no doubt started to
close up; but it was a long day’s march away, and could not be at
Altobiscar or on the Linduz till the 26th. Anything might be happening
in the fog which lay deep on the mountains all night. Cole determined
‘that he could not hope to maintain the passes against the very great
superiority of the force opposed to him--amounting to from 30,000 to
35,000 men[875]’, and that he must retire by night under cover of
the mist. Even if his views had been less pessimistic, he would yet
have been compelled to retreat by the action of Byng, who had fought
heroically all the day, but was obsessed by fears as the fog settled
down. He had come to the conclusion that, as the enemy had possession
of the path along the eastern hills to Orbaiceta, and had superabundant
numbers, he would be using the night to send a large force in that
direction, where only the Spanish regiment of Leon was on guard. They
could not be stopped, and when down in the valley of the Irati would
be able to take Roncesvalles from the rear, and to throw the whole
defending force on to the necessity of retiring by the Mendichuri and
Atalosti routes, on which retreat would be slow and dangerous. Byng
therefore sent a message to Cole that he must needs retire, and was
already beginning to draw off his troops, under cover of his light
companies, when he received Cole’s orders to the same effect. The moral
responsibility for the retreat lay equally on both--the technical
responsibility on Cole alone, as the superior officer: he might, of
course, have ordered Byng back to his old position, which the French
had left quite unmolested.

[Illustration: Combat of RONCESVALLES July 25th 1813]

Was Cole’s pessimism justified? Wellington thought not: he wrote to
Lord Liverpool ten days later, ‘Sir Lowry Cole, whose retreat
occasioned the retreat of the whole, retired, not because he could
not hold his position, but because his right flank was turned. It is
a great disadvantage when the officer commanding in chief is absent.
For this reason there is nothing that I dislike so much as these
extended operations, which I cannot direct myself[876].’ And he was
no doubt thinking of Cole, no less than of Picton, when he wrote that
‘all the beatings we have given the French have not given our generals
confidence in themselves and in the exertions of their troops. They
are really heroes when I am on the spot to direct them, but when I
am obliged to quit them they are children.’ Cole was an officer of
the first merit in handling troops, as he was to show at Sorauren
two days later; and that he was not destitute of initiative had been
sufficiently proved by the advance of the 4th Division at Albuera,
where he was practically acting without orders[877]. But there seems
no doubt that the scale of the operations in the Pyrenees made him
nervous: he was responsible on the 25th July not for a division but
for a small army, and he was well aware of the enemy’s superiority in
numbers. His conduct was the more surprising because he had received
before 10 o’clock Wellington’s stringent dispatch of the night of the
24th, telling him to ‘maintain the passes in front of Roncesvalles to
the utmost,’ and to disregard any wide turning movements to the east on
Soult’s part. These orders reached him at the Leiçaratheca, just as he
was witnessing Byng’s successful repulse of Barbot’s brigade. Possibly
the excitement of the moment prevented him from thoroughly appreciating
their full meaning, and for the rest of the day he was busy enough,
riding from front to front on the passes. As he wrote in his first
short account of his doings, ‘having had no sleep for two nights, and
having been on horseback from 4 a.m. till 11 at night, I am somewhat
fagged[878].’ It is, of course, quite unfair to criticize a responsible
officer in the light of subsequent events; but as a matter of fact
Cole was in no danger--the fog endured all that night and far into
the morning of the 26th. The enemy at Orbaiceta was negligible--one
battalion and a few National Guards: Soult sent no more troops on that
wretched road. And if he had done so, after the fog cleared on the
26th, they would have taken the best part of a day to get into action.
It seems certain that Cole could have held the passes for another day
without any great risk; and if he had done so, Soult’s whole plan of
campaign would have been wrecked. But, of course, the fog _might_ have
lifted at midnight: Soult _might_ have sent two divisions by a night
march to Orbaiceta, and a retreat by bad tracks like the Atalosti
would have been slow, and also eccentric, since it did not cover the
Pampeluna road, but would have taken Cole to Eugui and the Col de
Velate. Nevertheless, looking at the words of Wellington’s dispatch of
the 24th, it seems that Cole disobeyed orders: he did _not_ hold the
passes to the utmost, and he did not disregard turning movements to the
far east.

Both the Linduz and Altobiscar were evacuated in the early hours of
the night of July 25th-6th: the French did not discover the move till
morning, and by dawn the whole of Cole’s force was far on its way down
the Pampeluna road entirely unmolested, though very weary.

To understand the general situation on the morning of July 26th, we
must now turn back, to note what had been happening in the Bastan
during the long hours of Byng’s and Ross’s fight in the southern
passes. The supplementary part of Soult’s plan had been to force the
Maya defile, and thus to break in the left-centre of Wellington’s line
of defence, at the same moment that his main body turned its extreme
right flank, by forcing its way through the Roncesvalles gap. D’Erlon’s
three divisions, for whom this task had been set aside, had no long
détour to execute, like those of Reille: they were already concentrated
in front of their objective; their leading section was at Urdax, only a
few miles from the summit of the Maya ridge; their most remote reserves
at Espelette, in the valley of the Nive, were within one day’s march of
the British positions.

The orders issued by Soult to D’Erlon on July 23rd ran as follows:
‘Comte D’Erlon will make his dispositions on the 24th to attack the
enemy at dawn on the 25th, to make himself master of the Puerto of
Maya, and to pursue the enemy when he shall begin his retreat....
It is to be presumed that the hostile forces in the Bastan, in the
Alduides, and in the passes of Ispegui and Maya will draw back the
moment that they hear of [Clausel’s and Reille’s] movement, or else
that they will begin to manœuvre, so as to leave their present
positions ungarrisoned. Comte D’Erlon will seize the moment to attack
them briskly, and to seize the Maya pass. From thence he will march
by Ariscun on Elizondo, and then on the Col de Velate, or possibly by
Berderis on the pass of Urtiaga, according to the route which the enemy
may take in his retreat. He should remember that he must try to unite
as soon as possible with the main body in the direction here indicated,
and to get into communication with General Reille. Whatever may happen,
he must send strong detachments to pursue any hostile columns that may
try to get off to their left [westward], to discover their routes,
worry them, and pick up prisoners.’

These are very curious orders, as all their directions depend on the
idea that Roncesvalles will be forced with ease, and that on hearing of
its being lost all the Allied troops in the centre of Wellington’s line
will retire in haste. Soult committed himself to this hypothesis in the
words ‘it is to be presumed that the enemy will defend the position
of Altobiscar feebly, because he will see that he is being outflanked
by Reille’s divisions on the Linduz, and threatened at the same time,
on his right flank by the detachment and the National Guards who are
demonstrating in the direction of Orbaiceta.’ But what if Roncesvalles
were held for twelve hours against Clausel, if Reille were completely
blocked all day on the Linduz, and if the demonstration on Orbaiceta
proved ineffective? In this case the British troops on the Maya front
will _not_ hear of disasters in the south, they will _not_ retreat, but
stand to fight; and D’Erlon, far from having a walk over the pass, as
a commencement to a rapid pursuit of a flying enemy, will have a hard
day’s work before him.

This is what was to happen. D’Erlon, instead of running against an
enemy who was about to retreat, and pushing him forward with ease, met
with troops determined to hold their position, and found himself let
in for one of the bloodiest battles on a small scale that were fought
during the whole war. That he was finally successful, though at a
heavy cost, was due to the mistakes made by the British generals in
front of him.

The disposition of the troops which formed Wellington’s centre was as
follows. Hill was in charge of the whole sector, from the Maya Pass
to the head of the Alduides valley. His force consisted of the 2nd
Division (minus Byng’s brigade, detached to Roncesvalles nearly a month
back), and of Silveira’s Portuguese division. William Stewart held
the left, with the three available 2nd Division brigades--Cameron’s,
Pringle’s, and Ashworth’s Portuguese. The two British brigades were in
or about the Maya Pass, Ashworth was holding the Ispegui Pass, seven
miles to the east, with one battalion in the defile, and the others in
support on the road from Errazu. Silveira’s two brigades continued the
line southward, Da Costa’s watching the Col de Berderis and other minor
passes south of the Ispegui, while A. Campbell’s was in the Alduides,
on the slopes above the village of that name. Silveira himself was with
Da Costa. Campbell, as we have already seen, was in close touch with
the Roncesvalles force, and ultimately joined it.

On the other flank the 2nd Division at Maya had as its nearest
neighbour the 7th Division, which was holding the ‘Puerto’ of Echalar.
Behind lay the Light Division by Vera, and the 6th Division, now under
Pack, since Clinton’s health had again broken down, in reserve at
Santesteban.

Now on the early morning of the 25th the first troops stirring were
Soult’s National Guard detachments on the Alduides front, which (as we
have already seen) attracted the notice of Campbell’s Portuguese, and
suffered for their temerity. Their activity, most unfortunately, drew
the attention of Sir Rowland Hill in this direction. He rode out from
his head-quarters at Elizondo to visit Campbell, when the demonstration
was reported to him. And he was actually in the Alduides, at the
extreme southern end of his sector, when the French attacked in force
the Maya passes, at its extreme northern end. This was a pardonable
mishap, since he was on his own business. But it led to his being
absent from the real point of danger. Quite unpardonable, however, was
the fact that William Stewart, commanding the 2nd Division, abandoned
his own troops and went out to join Hill in the same direction[879],
toward the front of Silveira’s brigades, attracted by the news of
fighting at early dawn. He would seem to have left no note of his
probable whereabouts at Maya, so that he was sought in vain for many
hours, when his troops were attacked. In his absence the command of his
division fell to General Pringle, who had arrived from England only
two days before, to take over the brigade of which Colonel O’Callaghan
of the 39th had been in temporary charge since the opening of the
campaign. Pringle knew neither the troops nor the ground, and being
only a brigadier had no authority to make new dispositions, when his
commanding officer was still technically present, though invisible for
the moment.

The whole responsibility for what happened on the morning of the 25th,
therefore, fell on Stewart. And he must also be given the discredit of
the very inadequate arrangements that had been made for the defence
of the pass. The French at Urdax were only four miles from the crest,
and it was known that they were in strength close behind--their
large camps about Ainhoue, where Abbé’s division was cantoned, were
perfectly visible from the heights[880], and obviously crammed with
men. Considering that he was in close touch with the enemy, Stewart’s
precautions were ludicrously incomplete. The Maya position consists
of a broad open grassy saddle, between the high mountains to east
and west--the Alcorrunz peak on the left and the Aretesque peak on
the right. The saddle at its lowest point is about 2,000 ft. above
sea-level--the flanking heights run up to a thousand feet more. The
high road from Urdax and Zagaramurdi climbs the saddle in its middle,
runs westward along its summit for a mile, and then descends by a broad
curve towards Elizondo on the Spanish side. There is another lesser
track which leads up on to the saddle, from Espelette; it gets on to
the level of the Col at its extreme eastern end, under the Aretesque
height; thence, after running along the crest for a mile, it meets the
high road, crosses it, and continues along the slopes of the Alcorrunz
peak, and ultimately falls into the by-road from Santesteban to
Zagaramurdi. This path, useful for lateral communications east and
west, is still known as the _Chemin des Anglais_, from the work which
was spent upon it by Wellington’s army later in the year, when the
necessity for good tracks along the front was better understood than
it seems to have been in July. In contemporary records it is generally
called the Gorospil path.

The west end of the saddle was not inadequately guarded by Cameron’s
brigade, which was encamped by battalions on each side of the main
_chaussée_ close behind the crest, with four Portuguese guns, of Da
Cunha’s battery, mounted on a commanding knoll whence they could
sweep the road. But the east end of the position, under the hill
of Aretesque, where the minor road comes in, was almost entirely
neglected. There was only a picquet of 80 men placed to cover it,
on the spot where the _Chemin des Anglais_ gets to the crest of the
position. Pringle’s brigade, which supplied this picquet, was two and a
half miles to the rear, in the low ground about the village of Maya--an
hour’s march away, for the ascent to the picquet was a climb uphill
by a bad path. The only support immediately available for the outpost
was the four light companies of the brigade[881], which were encamped
on the back-slope of the ridge, about half-way between the hill of
Aretesque and the main body of the brigade.

There was much dead ground in front of the Maya position, where it
might be approached by ravines and combes whose bottom could not be
fathomed by the eye. And in particular the view north-eastward, towards
Espelette, was completely blocked by a high round hill half a mile
beyond the outer sentries of the Aretesque picquet. With the French
only four miles away at Urdax, and seven at Espelette, it is clear that
prudence would have dictated constant reconnaissance of all the dead
ground. Stewart had made no such arrangements--all that we hear is that
the round hill beyond the Aretesque picquet was occasionally visited by
Portuguese vedettes. Apparently none had gone out on the morning of the
25th.

D’Erlon would appear to have been well acquainted with the general
disposition of the British line, as he launched his main attack against
the under-manned eastern flank of the position, and did not tackle the
strongly held ground on the high road, at its western end, until he was
well established on the crest. Darmagnac’s division, from Espelette,
led the main column, Abbé’s division from Ainhoue fell into its rear
and followed: both took the _Chemin des Anglais_ track, which was
blocked from the view of the British picquets by the round hill already
mentioned. Maransin’s division at Urdax, on the high road, was ordered
to mass itself, but to keep under cover, and show no signs of movement
till the main body had reached and occupied the eastern end of the
saddle. It was then to assail Cameron’s brigade, advancing up the high
road.

Though the morning was bright and clear, no certain signs of a French
attack were seen till 10 o’clock, so carefully did the enemy utilize
the ‘dead ground’ in front of him. Suspicious movements indeed were
observed by the outpost of the 71st on the high road, who noted small
bodies of men crossing the sky-line in front of Urdax[882]. And the
picquet of the 34th on the Aretesque hill reported to Pringle’s
brigade-head-quarters that it had seen a small body of cavalry and
a larger force of infantry turn the corner of a distant road beyond
Ainhoue and disappear again[883]. On both points the enemy had only
been visible for a few minutes. Pringle sent up a staff-officer[884]
to the Aretesque picquet, who made nothing of the troops that had been
detected on that side, but as a measure of precaution ordered up the
four light companies of the brigade to join the picquet on the crest.
Thus there chanced to be 400 men instead of 80, when D’Erlon discovered
himself an hour later. But the five companies were as powerless a guard
against the sudden attack of 7,000 men as the one company would have
been.

At 10.30 D’Erlon had reached the point, not much over half a mile from
the most advanced British sentry, where the head of his column would
be forced to come out into the open and show itself. His dispositions
aimed at a sudden surprise--and effected it. He collected the eight
light companies of Darmagnac’s division, ordered them to take off and
stack their knapsacks, and launched them as a swarm of _tirailleurs_
at the position of the British on the Aretesque knoll (or the Gorospil
knoll, as Darmagnac calls it in his report). The 16th Léger followed
them in column, keeping to the track, while the skirmishers spread out
in a semicircle to envelop the knoll. The remainder of the division
came on as quickly as it could in support.

The French attacked at a pace that surprised their enemies; the light
companies--they were commanded by Bradbey of the 28th--were desperately
engaged within ten minutes of the firing of the first shot. Their
flanks being turned, they clubbed together on the higher slopes of the
knoll, and around some rocky outcrops on its summit, and held their
own for three-quarters of an hour, repulsing several attacks of the
voltigeurs and the 16th Léger with great loss, and suffering heavily
themselves. Meanwhile the attention of the defenders of the pass being
thus distracted, the succeeding battalions of Darmagnac’s division
hurried up unmolested one after another on to the saddle, and began to
deploy. Their general threw the 8th Line across the rear of the knoll,
blocking the path which led down to the village of Maya and the camps
of Pringle’s brigade, and drew out in succession the 28th, 51st, and
54th on the plateau to their right.

Before any succour could arrive[885] the five unlucky companies on the
Gorospil knoll were crushed by the concentric attack--six unwounded
officers and 140 men were taken prisoners among the rocks at the
summit--the other 260 were nearly all killed or wounded. Soon after
they had succumbed, tardy reinforcements began to arrive--Pringle had
started off his three battalions from the valley to climb the path
up to the crest--they arrived at intervals, for their camps were at
varying distances from the point of danger, and each acted for itself.
The Brigadier himself, finding that he was in general command, appears
to have ridden up the high road and joined Cameron’s brigade at the
Maya end of the saddle. From thence he began to send off detachments
of that brigade, to co-operate from the flank with the uphill frontal
attack which his own battalions were about to make from the valley.

He found Cameron’s brigade under arms, in good order, and unmolested.
The Portuguese guns had begun to fire, but not at any enemy, for
Maransin was holding back, according to his orders. The shots were
signals to give notice to the 7th Division, Ashworth, and other
outlying neighbours, that serious fighting had opened in the passes.
They do not seem to have commenced till 11 o’clock or even later, for
Wellington had ridden off from Lesaca towards St. Sebastian before
the cannonade began; and we know that when he started about 11 a.m.
no gunfire from the east had been reported. Cameron had already sent
off the 50th, the right-hand corps of his brigade, to push along the
watershed of the col, and stop the French from any further progress
toward the high road. This left only the 71st and 92nd under the
Rock of Maya, on the culminating point of the position, awaiting the
approach of Maransin, which obviously would not be long delayed.

The second episode of the fight consisted in a series of desperate but
ill-connected attempts by four British battalions--the 28th, 34th,
39th, 50th--to push Darmagnac’s eight battalions off the foothold
on the east end of the col, where they were now firmly established.
Abbé’s division was not yet on the ground, but was already visible
filing up the track which Darmagnac’s had already traversed. The three
British battalions from the valley arrived in succession, and attacked
frontally the mass of French on the crest above them. The 34th came up
first and alone. ‘It was death to go on against such a host, but it
was the _order_, and we went on to destruction, marching up a narrow
path with men pumped out and breathless. We had no chance. The colonel,
always a good mark, being mounted and foremost, was first knocked over,
very badly wounded. Seven more officers were wounded. We persevered,
pushed on, made a footing, and kept our ground[886].’ But the French
held the crest above, and the 34th was brought to a complete
standstill. The 39th then climbed up the slope, more to the west, and
made a similar unsuccessful push to reach the sky-line. Meanwhile the
50th, coming from the other side along the crest, attacked the French
right, and drove in the leading battalion on to the mass, but could
get no farther forward, and finally fell back. The last episode of
this struggle was a third isolated attack--Pringle had told Cameron to
detach the right wing of the 92nd from the Maya position, and to send
it on in support of the 50th. Just as the latter recoiled, this strong
half-battalion--nearly 400 muskets--came on to the ground on the crest,
and at the same moment the 28th, the last of Pringle’s battalions to
arrive from the valley, climbed the slope and came up diagonally on
the right of the 92nd companies. Pringle himself aligned the two corps
and led them against the solid mass of French. This advance ended in a
most desperate fire-duel at a range of 120 yards, in which the French
had the more casualties, but the British line was in the end shot to
pieces. Observers from the 28th and 34th speak in the most moving terms
of the extraordinary steadiness of the 92nd. ‘They stood there like a
stone wall, overmatched by twenty to one, until half their blue bonnets
lay beside those brave highland soldiers. When they retired their dead
bodies lay as a barrier to the advancing foe. O but they did fight well
that day! I can see the line now of their dead and wounded stretched
upon the heather, as the living kept closing up to the centre[887].’
It was only when sixty per cent. of these stubborn soldiers had fallen
that the senior of the two surviving officers with the wing ordered the
remnant to fall back on the 50th, who had re-formed in their rear. The
28th, who had been engaged (oddly enough!) with the French 28th, across
a dip on the south side of the crest, were cut off from the 92nd, and
retreated downhill by the way they had come, towards the village of
Maya. So did the 34th, which had been rallied some way down the slope,
below the point where they had made their unsuccessful attack, and had
been taking long shots uphill against the French flank. So also did
the 39th, or the greater part of it[888]. The progress of these spent
troops downhill was hastened by D’Erlon’s detaching two battalions to
push them away. They lapsed out of the battle, and retreated towards
Maya village, leaving Cameron’s brigade alone to maintain the struggle
upon the crest--three battalions against three divisions, for Abbé’s
men were now deploying behind Darmagnac’s, and Maransin’s long-deferred
attack was just beginning to develop.

After the wasted remnant of the right wing of the 92nd had recoiled,
the French began to advance along the _Chemin des Anglais_, pushing
the beaten troops before them, but were soon brought to a stand for
a few minutes once more. For Cameron had detached the right wing of
the 71st from the Maya position to follow up the right wing of the
92nd--the system of dribbling in small reinforcements was practised
all day--leaving only the two left wings of those regiments to hold
the pass against Maransin, who was still an impending danger only. The
newly arrived half-battalion, drawn up across the path, delivered a
very telling salvo against the front immediately opposed to them--the
enemy was now in a mixed mass with no trace of formation, acting like
a dense swarm of _tirailleurs_--and brought it to a stop for a moment.
But the French, holding back in the centre, spread out on the wings,
and began to envelop both flanks of the 71st companies, who had to
retire perforce--losing heavily, though not as the 92nd had suffered
half an hour before.[889]

There was now no chance whatever of checking D’Erlon, since the only
British troops not yet engaged, the left wings of the 71st and 92nd,
were at last feeling the commencement of Maransin’s attack, and there
were no reinforcements yet visible. Just at this moment, it was perhaps
2 p.m.[890], the long-lost William Stewart at last appeared upon the
scene and assumed command. The noise of the guns had reached him in
the distant Alduides, and drawn him back to his own business, which he
found in a most deplorable condition. A glance round the field showed
him that he must give up any hope of holding the Maya pass, and that
his only chance was to fight a detaining battle across the high road,
in the hope of receiving help from the 7th Division, to whom Pringle
had already sent urgent demands for succour.

He accordingly issued orders for the two intact half-battalions on the
crest to fall back, and take up a new position below it; while the
weary troops from the old front took shelter and re-formed behind them.
Darmagnac’s regiments were as much fought out as their opponents, and
did not press. Maransin, who had brought up his troops in two columns,
one on the road, the other up a ravine to his right, on seeing the way
left open to him, did not hurry on, but began to deploy his battalions
in succession as they filed up to the saddle of the col. Hence there
was a distinct break in the action--half an hour or even more. No
disaster was suffered by Cameron’s brigade--the only unfortunate
incident of the moment of recoil being that the four Portuguese guns
were lost. Two had been man-handled with much toil up a rocky slope,
from which it was impossible to get them down in a hurry. After firing
a round or two of case at the enemy’s approaching skirmishers, their
gunners pushed them over into a ravine and made off[891]. The other
two were taken while on the move. Wellington attributed the loss of
these four guns, which he much resented (for his army never lost
another field gun in action during the whole war), to Stewart, who had,
on his arrival, countermanded an order of Pringle’s which had directed
an earlier retreat for them.

The fourth episode of the combat of Maya, though it included much
bloody and obstinate fighting, was not such a desperate business as
the long scrambling fight along the _Chemin des Anglais_. D’Erlon
halted Darmagnac’s troops, who naturally had to re-form, for they were
in complete disorder, and had suffered most severely. He now used
Maransin’s division as his striking force, and when he had got it all
deployed attacked Stewart’s new position. Abbé’s division was brought
up to act in support. It was probably well past 3 o’clock when the new
fighting began: the delay had enabled Stewart to rearrange a fighting
line--the left wings of the 71st and 92nd were drawn up on each side
of the _chaussée_, flanked on their left by a company of the latter
regiment on a precipitous knoll, where Cameron had placed them before
the action began. This company was afterwards reinforced by another
from the 82nd, when that regiment came up[892]. About three hundred
yards behind, the right wing of the 71st and the 50th, now rallied,
made a second line. When Maransin developed his attack, the front line
delivered its fire, and fell back in an orderly fashion behind the
supports, where it re-formed across the road. The second line repeated
this manœuvre. The half-mile of ground given up in these alternate
retreats included the camping lines of the 71st and 92nd, where the
rows of tents not only broke the enemy’s formation, but tempted
individuals aside for loot. ‘They were plundering on all hands,
cutting down the tents, strewing about the officers’ linen, and tearing
open their portmanteaux, many of which contained a company’s month’s
pay, while we were obliged to stand at a distance, and view the work of
destruction[893].’

The afternoon was drawing on--it was 4.30 or later before Maransin’s
line re-formed and again advanced: Stewart’s front line again retired,
but when the enemy followed it he was surprised to be met by a
counter-attack. Stewart had just received his first reinforcements--a
weak battalion of the 82nd, the nearest troops of the 7th Division,
which had long been watching the fight from afar on the Alcorrunz
peak, and had just received their divisional general’s permission to
come in. These new-comers, joining the reserve line, met the leading
French battalions with a brisk offensive, which drove them in on their
supports. But numbers prevailed, and the fight began once more to roll
downhill. At this moment affairs looked black--Stewart had just been
wounded in the leg, but still retained the command--he was a splendid
fighting man if a careless and tiresome subordinate. Thinking the
position hopeless, and a final retreat necessary, he sent messages
to the outlying companies of the 82nd and 92nd on the knoll to the
left, who were now quite cut off from the rest of the force, to save
themselves by striking across the hills. They had been isolated for two
hours, had used up all their cartridges, and were defending themselves
by the primitive method of pelting the enemy below with whinstones,
which lay thick on the hillside[894].

[Illustration: COMBAT OF MAYA 25 July 1813]

But before the messenger, who had to take a vast détour, could reach
this desperate little party, the last episode of the combat of Maya
had begun. It was a sufficiently surprising end to the day. At about
6 o’clock there arrived, marching hard along the mountain road which
continues the _Chemin des Anglais_ westward, two battalions under
General Barnes from the 2nd Brigade of the 7th Division[895], which
Lord Dalhousie had sent from Echalar on getting the appeal for help.
These two units--the 1/6th and Brunswick-Oels--were only 1,500
bayonets, and had done nine miles at a hot pace. But they were
fresh troops, and led by a very thunderbolt of war--Barnes was the
brigadier who a few days later made what Wellington declared to be
the most gallant charge that he had seen, a charge that drew notes of
admiration from the most reticent of pens[896]. They came in diagonally
from an unexpected side road, unseen by the enemy till the moment of
contact, and crashed in upon the leading French battalion with such an
impetus that it was trampled down--losing 15 officers in a minute. The
whole of the rest of the British troops present cheered, and advanced
in the wake of Barnes’s men--even the poor wreck of the right wing
of the 92nd, headed by its one surviving piper. A counter-attack on
troops who have already done much, and are taken by surprise in what
seems the moment of success, is often astoundingly effective--as the
war of 1914-18 has showed. In this case the result was surprising:
Maransin’s leading brigade fell back in disorder on his supports, the
latter gave way also, and the whole mass retired uphill, as far as the
camping-ground of Cameron’s regiments at the head of the pass. D’Erlon,
wrongly believing that the whole 7th Division had arrived _en masse_,
threw a brigade of Abbé’s division across the crest of the col, behind
which the beaten troops took shelter. He expected to end the day with
a defensive action, and even recalled a brigade of Darmagnac’s troops,
who had been sent down towards the village of Maya, in pursuit of
Pringle’s brigade, and who had just got engaged near it with Ashworth’s
Portuguese, then retiring by order from the pass of Ispegui.

But Stewart would have been mad to press on with six battalions--three
of them mere remnants--against eighteen, and halted on the summit,
content to have blocked the pass, though the enemy had possession
of it, and of ground in front of it on which he stood deployed. The
firing continued for a time, and then died down as the dusk came on.
By 8 o’clock all was over--if D’Erlon had frankly put in Abbé’s strong
division of ten battalions, it is clear that he might yet have turned
the fortune of the day. But he did not: hypnotized by the idea that he
had the whole of the 2nd and 7th Divisions in front of him, instead
of a mere fragment of each. The battle was well over when General Hill
arrived from the Alduides, bringing with him unlucky news--he had
intercepted and read, at Elizondo, Cole’s dispatch to Head-quarters
saying that he had been attacked at Roncesvalles by 35,000 men, and
that he was giving up the pass. Wherefore Hill resolved that he also
must retire, and ordered the weary troops of Stewart and Barnes to
retreat after midnight to Elizondo and cross the upper Bidassoa. It
is scarcely credible that the men who had fought for ten hours under
such conditions on such rough ground, retained strength to move another
furlong--but the order was obeyed, though many badly wounded men had
to be abandoned, and though the _chaussée_ was strewn for miles by
dead-beat stragglers, who dropped out and slept till daylight. They
were not disturbed--for D’Erlon made no move till the sun was well
up--he had won the pass and was expecting to have to fight again at
dawn, for the right to emerge from it.

The losses in a fight so honourable to the British battalions, if so
discreditable to British generalship, had been immense in Cameron’s
brigade, heavy in Pringle’s, appreciable among Barnes’s men, who only
struck in at the eleventh hour. The first-named had lost 800 men out of
1,900 present, of whom 343 belonged to the gallant and unlucky 1/92nd.
Pringle’s three battalions had 530 casualties out of 2,000 present,
including 140 unwounded prisoners taken on the Gorospil knoll from its
light companies. Barnes and the 7th Division troops had won a glorious
success with a loss of only 140 men. The total list gives just under
1,500 casualties out of 6,000 men engaged--of whom 349 were prisoners
(200 of them wounded). These are very different figures from the
3,500 total at which D’Erlon stated Stewart’s loss--but sufficiently
distressing. The enemy had suffered still more, but from infinitely
greater numbers--their commander reported 1,400 casualties in
Darmagnac’s division out of 7,000 present, 600 in Maransin’s. Abbé was
barely engaged at the eleventh hour: one of his brigadiers (Rignoux)
was hit and only four other officers, with perhaps 100 men. The total
reported is therefore about 2,100--no very formidable proportion out
of 20,000 men present. But some battalions had been badly cut up--the
103rd of Maransin’s division, which bore the first fury of Barnes’s
attack, had 15 officers killed and wounded out of 20 present; and the
28th of Darmagnac’s division lost a similar number in sustaining the
attack of the right wing of the 1/92nd and the British 28th. But this
was a two-battalion regiment with 40 officers present. Nevertheless,
D’Erlon’s report to Soult sings victory in very modest terms--he has
captured the enemy’s position and holds it at the end of the day--the
affair had been one of the most desperate that he has ever seen--the
enemy’s loss has been far greater than his own--but there is no blowing
of trumpets.

SECTION XXXVIII: CHAPTER IV

SORAUREN. JULY 26-28

The first day’s fighting in the Pyrenean passes could not be called
satisfactory either to Wellington or to Soult. The former had lost
both the defiles in which he had intended to make his first stand,
and had lost them in a very tiresome fashion--he thought that Maya
might have been held at least for twenty-four hours, if there had
been a divisional general on the spot to direct the defence: while
Roncesvalles had not been forced, but abandoned by Cole, who could
certainly have made a longer resistance, if only the orders sent to him
had been obeyed. It was, above all things, necessary to gain time for
the concentration of the army, and a precious day had been lost--and
need not have been lost.

But Soult can have been no better pleased: time, to him also, meant
everything; and the orders which he had issued to his lieutenants had
presupposed an easy triumph by surprise in the early morning, with a
forward march in the afternoon. Instead of this he had won by nightfall
a bare foothold on the summit of each pass, after much fighting of an
unsatisfactory sort. He, too, had lost a day; and it was only on the
morrow that he discovered that both at Maya and at Roncesvalles the
enemy had slipped away in the dark, leaving to him the power to debouch
from the defiles.

[Illustration: BATTLE OF SORAUREN

July 28th 1813 Showing the General Situation at 1.15 PM.]

Nevertheless, the Marshal sent on the morning of the 26th a very
flamboyant message of victory to his master the Emperor, who then lay
at Mayence. Both Maya and Roncesvalles had been forced, D’Erlon had
captured five guns and many hundreds of prisoners at the former pass:
he himself hoped to be at Pampeluna, and to have raised its siege, by
the 27th. These news were sent on from Bayonne by semaphore to Paris
and the Rhine, and reached Napoleon on August 1st. At the same time,
and by the same rapid method of transmission, arrived General Rey’s
report of his successful repulse of the assault of July 25th. It
is worth while to turn away from solid history for a moment, in order
to see how the Imperial editor of the _Moniteur_ utilized this useful
material for propaganda. He first wrote to Clarke the Minister of
War: ‘We can now give the public some account of affairs in Spain.
The Vittoria business and the King must not be mentioned. The first
note which you must put in the _Moniteur_ should run as follows--“His
Majesty has named the Duke of Dalmatia as his lieutenant-general
commanding his armies in Spain. The Marshal took up the command on July
12, and made immediate dispositions for marching against the besiegers
of Pampeluna and St. Sebastian.” After that put in General Rey’s first
letter about the events of the 25th-27th. You had better make some
small additions to the number of prisoners and of guns captured, not
for French consumption but to influence European opinion. As I am
printing General Rey’s dispatch in the _Frankfort Journal_, and have
made some changes of this sort in it, I send you a corrected copy so
that it may appear in the _Moniteur_ in identical terms.’

The Emperor’s second letter to his Foreign Minister, the Duke of
Bassano, sent from Dresden three days later, is even more amusing. ‘You
had better circulate the news that in consequence of Marshal Soult’s
victory over the English on July 25, the siege of St. Sebastian has
been raised, and 30 siege-guns and 200 waggons taken. The blockade of
Pampeluna was raised on the 27th: General Hill, who was in command at
that siege, could not carry off his wounded, and was obliged to burn
part of his baggage. Twelve siege-guns (24-pounders) were captured
there. Send this to Prague, Leipzig, and Frankfort[897].’

This ‘intelligent anticipation of the future,’ for utilization in the
armistice-negotiations going on with Austria, could not have been
bettered. Unfortunately there arrived next day another semaphore
message from Soult of the night of the 26th-27th. The Emperor has to
warn Caulaincourt that yesterday’s propaganda will not stand criticism.
‘I have just got another “telegraphic dispatch” sent on by the Empress
from Mayence, giving another communication from Soult, written 24 hours
after the last, in which he said he would be at Pampeluna on the 27th.
The enemy lost many men and seven guns. But nothing decisive seems to
have happened. I am impatient for more news, in order to be able to
understand in detail Soult’s dispositions, and to form from them a
general idea of the situation[898].’

Alas for human ingenuity! Soult’s next dispatch, of July 29, was not to
be of the sort that craved for publicity in the _Moniteur_, even with
the most judicious editing.

But to return from Dresden to Biscay, and from the head-quarters of the
Emperor to those of the ‘Sepoy General’ whom he had at last begun to
recognize as capable of ‘des projets très sensés.’

If only Wellington had been at his head-quarters at Lesaca at 11
o’clock on the morning of July 25th, and if William Stewart had been
on the spot at Maya, and had sent early news of D’Erlon’s attack,
many things might have happened differently. Wellington would have
had a long afternoon before him to concert operations, and would
have possessed information to guide him in drawing up his scheme.
Unfortunately he was absent--as we have seen--and only received at
6 o’clock a second-hand report from Lord Dalhousie at Echalar, to
the effect that fighting was going on at Maya, with the unfortunate
addition that D’Erlon had been repulsed--a most inaccurate summary
of what had happened. Later on in the evening, not before 10 p.m.,
came Cole’s first dispatch from Roncesvalles, to say that he and Byng
were heavily engaged at 1 o’clock with a large French force, and
were holding their own. On these scanty data Wellington felt that no
conclusions could be drawn--he wrote to Graham that there must be a
great mass of French troops not yet discovered, which would come into
action on some other point on the 26th, and that his policy would
depend on where that force appeared--he could only account for 30,000
of Soult’s men so far. He did not commit himself to any definite guess
as to the undiscovered part of the Marshal’s plan, but from his other
correspondence it is clear that he suspected an attempt to relieve St.
Sebastian by an attack on the lower Bidassoa--a very possible solution
of the problem, but not the correct one[899].

Awaiting further developments, Wellington issued no more orders on the
night of the 25th, save one to the Conde de Abispal, directing him to
send one of his two infantry divisions from in front of Pampeluna to
join Picton and Cole, and to keep the fortress blockaded by the other.
The force thus taken away would be replaced by Carlos de España’s
division, which was marching up from Burgos, and due to arrive on the
26th. In this dispatch Wellington asked the Conde to direct Mina to
send up his infantry from Saragossa, and told him that he was intending
to order to the front the British heavy cavalry brigades, now cantoned
along the Ebro. No other movements were settled that night; but
Wellington was aware that during his absence his Quartermaster-General,
George Murray, had directed Lord Dalhousie to have the 7th Division
massed at Echalar, prepared to move at an hour’s notice, and Charles
Alten at Vera to have the Light Division got into a similar readiness.
Either would be able to march off at dawn.

Somewhere late in the night[900] Wellington received more news, which
made the situation clearer but more unsatisfactory. The true story of
the Maya fighting came in from two sources: Hill sent a dispatch dated
from Elizondo at some hour after 6 p.m., to say that on getting back
from the Alduides he had found Stewart unable to hold the Pass, and had
bidden him to retire. Stewart, who was wounded and unable to write,
sent a verbal message, which came in about the same time, reporting
that Hill had directed him to fall back on Elizondo and Berueta. The
officers who brought this information stated that the French were in
great force, and that the 2nd Division had been much cut up. No more
reports arrived from Cole, so that the result of the Roncesvalles
fighting remained unknown.

After what must have been a very short and disturbed night’s rest,
Wellington was in the saddle by 4 a.m. on the 26th, and preparing to
ride up the Bastan to visit Hill, and to ascertain the exact measure
of the mishap at Maya. Before departing from Lesaca he gave his first
definite orders in view of the events of the previous day[901]. Maya
being lost, the 7th Division must fall back from Echalar to Sumbilla,
on the road to Santesteban: the Light Division must retire from
Vera to the west bank of the Bidassoa, and be ready to march either
towards Yanzi or towards Santesteban, as might be necessary. Longa’s
Cantabrians were to block the hill road from the Bidassoa to Oyarzun.
Graham was told to hurry on the embarkation of the siege-train from
St. Sebastian. Hill was to hold on as long as he could to the position
at Irurita, in order to keep touch with the 6th Division, which was
directed to feel towards him, and to be ready to join him if necessary.
It was to push two of its three brigades to Legasa, on the road from
Santesteban along the upper Bidassoa, which would bring them within
eight miles of Hill’s proposed line of defence at Irurita. The third
brigade of the 6th Division was to stand fast at Santesteban, where it
would be in touch with Dalhousie, when the latter should have reached
Sumbilla.

All these orders, as is obvious, are concerned only with the measures
necessary to stop D’Erlon’s advance. None of them have any reference to
the action of the other French force at Roncesvalles. Till news should
come up from Cole and Picton, it was impossible to realize what was
going on at that front, or whether the enemy was making his main attack
in that direction. There might be still (as Wellington had guessed
three days back) a violent demonstration towards Pampeluna, intended to
distract a real attempt to relieve St. Sebastian.

And this state of ignorance with regard to the southern theatre of
operations was destined to last till late in the afternoon. Either
Cole and Picton themselves, or the officers to whom they entrusted
their dispatches, were sadly lacking in a sense of the value of the
prompt delivery of news. Wellington rode along the Bidassoa for many
a mile, till he came on Hill still holding the position of Irurita,
and entirely unmolested by the French. There were now in line the
sadly reduced remnant of the British brigades which had fought at
Maya, and da Costa’s and Ashworth’s Portuguese, with the three
7th-Division battalions which had saved Stewart from disaster. The
total made up about 9,000 bayonets. Hill estimated[902] D’Erlon’s force
at 14,000 men--a miscalculation, for even after the losses at Maya
there were still 18,000 French in line. The immediate result of the
error, however, was beneficial rather than otherwise, for Wellington
considered that Hill was in no particular danger, and let him stand,
while he himself rode southward towards the lofty Col de Velate, to
seek for intelligence from the Pampeluna front in person, since his
lieutenants had vouchsafed him none. He reached Almandoz, near the
crest of the Pass, in the afternoon, and resolved to establish his
head-quarters there for the night, as it was conveniently central
between the two halves of his army.

Soon after his arrival Wellington, being much vexed at receiving no
news whatever from the south, resolved to send the 6th Division toward
Pampeluna by the Col de Velate as a matter of precaution--they were
to march to Olague in the valley of the Lanz. The 7th Division was
to close in, to take up the ground where the 6th had been placed,
and cover Hill’s left flank[903]. That haste in these movements was
not considered a primary necessity, is shown by the fact that Pack
and Dalhousie were told that they need not march till the morning of
the 27th. For the enemy’s surprising quiescence at the head of the
Maya pass had reassured Wellington as to any danger on this side. If
D’Erlon, indeed, possessed no more than 14,000 men, Hill with the
aid of the 7th Division could easily take care of him. And the Light
Division might still be left near Lesaca, as a reserve for Graham in
case any new mass of French troops should take the offensive on the
Bidassoa.

D’Erlon’s conduct on the morning of the 26th was explicable to himself,
though inexplicable to his enemy. He had been engaged in a most
bitter fight, in which he had lost 2,000 men and more. Two British
divisions, so he wrote to Soult, were in front of him--the 2nd and the
7th. For he had taken Barnes’s brigade for the whole of Dalhousie’s
unit--the effect of its desperate charge almost justified him in the
hypothesis. These troops had been forced to a strategic retreat, but
by no means put out of action. They must have been joined, ere now,
by the Portuguese column which Darmagnac had sighted on its approach
to Ariscun. But there were also troops on his right, of whom he must
beware: he knew that Vera and Echalar had been held in strength, and
Graham might send reinforcements in that direction, and assemble a
heavy force on his flank. Hence he resolved to discover how matters lay
by reconnaissances, before committing himself to the march down into
the Bastan and then up the Col de Velate which his orders prescribed.

‘In my position on the pass of Maya,’ he wrote, ‘I had on my right all
the forces which the enemy had in line as far as St. Sebastian. I had
to be prudent, in order not to expose myself to a check in the Bastan,
in which the enemy was holding the strongest position. I therefore
determined to leave Abbé and Maransin in the pass, with orders to send
out reconnaissances towards Santesteban, Echalar, and Mount Atchiola.
They would profit by the halt to distribute the half-ration of food
which had just come up from Ainhoue. I sent Darmagnac down the road to
Ariscun, with orders to push a vanguard to Elizondo, and to explore
towards the passes of Ispegui and Berderis, to see if there were any
hostile force still on my left.’

An advance of six miles to Elizondo, and that by a mere advanced guard,
was all the movement that D’Erlon made this day. It was not till
the afternoon that he learnt, by Abbé’s reconnaissances, that there
were still allied troops on his right--apparently the Light Division
opposite Vera, and the 7th at Sumbilla--while Darmagnac reported that
the eastern passes were clear, but that Hill was lying across the road
beyond Elizondo in great strength. In the evening D’Erlon heard that
Soult had forced the pass of Roncesvalles, and was about to advance:
this success, he deduced, would make the enemy in front of him give
way, in fear that his positions might be taken from behind. So he
thought himself justified in ordering a general advance for the morning
of the 27th--though Maransin was still to remain for a day at Maya,
lest any allied force might move up from the west against the pass.
Thus it came that for the whole of July 26th Hill was unmolested, and
Soult’s plan for a rapid concentration round Pampeluna became almost
impossible to carry out. A whole day had been wasted by D’Erlon, though
he was not without his extenuating circumstances.

Wellington meanwhile received at Almandoz, probably at about 8
p.m., the long-expected news from the South. They were, as we
know, most unsatisfactory: Cole reported from Linzoain, on the
Roncesvalles-Pampeluna road, that he had been driven out of the pass
by an army of 35,000 men or more, that he had not yet been joined
by the 3rd Division, and was still retreating towards Zubiri, where
he understood that Picton would meet him and take over the command.
His view of the situation was shown by a remark that if he had not
been superseded, and had been compelled to retreat past Pampeluna, he
supposed that the road towards Vittoria would have been the right one
to take[904]. This most exasperating dispatch only reached Wellington
that night by mere chance. The officer bearing it was going to Lesaca,
having no knowledge that Army Head-Quarters had left that place: at
Lanz he happened to meet the cavalry brigadier Long, whose squadrons
were keeping up the line of communication between the two halves of the
Army. Hearing from the aide-de-camp of the sort of news that the letter
contained, Long opened it and made a copy of it, which he sent to Sir
Rowland Hill, before permitting the bearer to go on. Hill received
the transcript at Berueta at 6 p.m., and very wisely forwarded it to
Wellington at Almandoz. The original was carried on by Cole’s messenger
to Santesteban, and did not reach Wellington that night.

Thanks to Long’s and Hill’s intelligent action, the Commander-in-Chief
could grasp the whole unpleasant situation at 8 p.m. on the 26th. He
sent orders to Picton at once, telling him that the enemy must at all
costs be detained: that considering the force at his disposal, he
ought to be able to check Soult for some time in front of Zubiri: that
he would be joined at once by one of O’Donnell’s divisions from the
Pampeluna blockading force, and shortly by reinforcements coming from
the Bastan (the 6th Division). Wellington himself was intending to ride
over to the right wing by the next afternoon. Till he should arrive,
Picton must send reports every few hours[905]. Unfortunately, Cole and
Picton had got things into an even worse state than could have been
expected. Just as Wellington was drafting these orders for an obstinate
rearguard action, they were at 8.30 p.m. preparing to evacuate the
Zubiri position, and setting out on a night march for Pampeluna[906].

To explain this move we must go back to the state of affairs at
Roncesvalles on the very foggy morning of July 26th. Cole, Byng, and
Morillo had abandoned, as we have already seen[907], their position on
Altobiscar and the Linduz under cover of the night, and had all fallen
into the Pampeluna road, Ross’s brigade descending from the heights
by the Mendichuri pass, the other three brigades and Morillo moving
by the _chaussée_ past the Abbey and Burguete. Anson’s brigade formed
the rearguard, not having been engaged on the previous day. Morillo’s
outlying battalion at the Foundry of Orbaiceta safely joined in by a
hill path. Campbell’s Portuguese retired by the way that they had come,
along the Path of Atalosti, but instead of returning to the Alduides
followed a mule track to Eugui in the upper valley of the Arga.

Cole’s long column, after completing its night march, took a
much-needed rest for many hours along the high road near Viscarret. It
saw nothing of the French till the early afternoon, when an exploring
party of chasseurs ran into the rearguard of Anson’s brigade.

What had Soult been doing between early dawn, when his outposts
ascertained that there was no enemy in front of them, and three
o’clock in the afternoon, when his cavalry rediscovered Cole? To our
surprise we find that he had been attempting to repeat his error of
the preceding day--that of sending a whole army corps along a rugged
mule track, similar to the one on which Reille’s column had been
blocked by Ross’s brigade. His original order on the 25th had been that
Reille, after seizing the Linduz, should turn along the ‘crest of the
mountains’, occupy the Atalosti defile, and push ever westward till
he could threaten the Col de Velate, the main line of communication
between the two sections of Wellington’s army. One would have supposed
that the events of the 25th on the Linduz, where one British brigade
had checked for a whole day Reille’s column of 17,000 men in Indian
file, would have taught him the impracticability of such plans. But (as
Soult’s malevolent critic, quoted already above, observed) when the
Marshal had once got his plan drawn up on paper it was like the laws of
the Medes and Persians, and must not be altered[908].

While Clausel was directed to use the _chaussée_ and pursue Cole
along the Pampeluna road past Roncesvalles, Burguete, and Espinal,
Reille was once more ordered[909] ‘to follow the crest of the
mountains to the right, and to try to take in the rear the hostile
corps which has been holding the pass of Maya against Count D’Erlon.’
The itinerary seems insane: there was a mule track and no more, and
Soult proposed to engage upon it a column of 17,000 men, with a front
of one file and a depth of at least six miles, allowing for the
battalion- and brigade-intervals. The crest was not a flat plateau,
but an interminable series of ups and downs, often steep and stony,
occasionally wooded. Campbell’s brigade had traversed part of it on the
25th, but to move a brigade on a fine day is a different thing from
moving an army corps in a fog.

Reille obeyed orders, though the fog was lying as densely upon the
mountains as on the preceding night. Apparently Soult had supposed
that it would lift at dawn--but it did not till midday. Lamartinière’s
division was left to guard the Linduz and the debouch of the Atalosti
path: Foy’s, followed by Maucune’s, tried to keep to the crest, with
the most absurd results. It was supposed to be guided by French-Basque
peasants (smugglers, no doubt) who were reputed to know the ground.
After going no more than a mile or two in the fog, the guides, at a
confusion of tracks in the middle of a wood, came to a standstill,
and talked volubly to Foy in unintelligible Basque. Whether they had
lost their way, or were giving advice, the General could not quite
discover. In despair he allowed the leading battalion to take the most
obvious track. They had got completely off the Atalosti path, and after
two miles of downhill marching found themselves on the _chaussée_
not far from Espinal, with the rear of Clausel’s corps defiling past
them[910]. It would still have been possible to stop the column, for
only one brigade had reached the foot of the mountain, and Maucune and
Lamartinière were still on the crest. But Reille took upon himself the
responsibility of overriding his commander’s impracticable directions,
and ordered Foy to go on, and the rest to follow, and to fall in to the
rear of Clausel’s impedimenta. ‘Il est fort dangereux dans les hautes
montagnes de s’engager sans guides et en brouillard,’ as he very truly
observed. Justifying himself in a letter of that night to Soult, he
wrote that if it were absolutely necessary to get on the crest-path
again, it could be done by turning up the Arga valley at Zubiri, and
following it to Eugui, from which there were tracks both to the Col de
Velate and to Irurita.[911]

Thus ended Soult’s impracticable scheme for seizing the Col de Velate
by marching three divisions along a precipitous mule track. Even if
there had been no fog, it is hard to believe that anything could have
come of it, as Campbell’s Portuguese would have been found at Eugui
well on in the day, and after Reille’s column would have been much
fatigued. Any show of resistance, even by one brigade, would have
checked Foy, and compelled Reille to deploy--an interminable affair, as
the fight on the Linduz upon the preceding afternoon had sufficiently
demonstrated. But to try this manœuvre in a dense fog was insane, and
Reille was quite right to throw it up.

The whole interest, therefore, of the French operation on July 26th
turns on the doing of Clausel’s column. It advanced very cautiously
down the slopes to the Abbey of Roncesvalles, discovering no trace of
the enemy save a few abandoned wounded. Having reached the upland
valley of Burguete, Clausel sent out cavalry patrols, and found, after
much searching in the fog, that Cole had gone off with his whole force
towards Espinal. His rearguard was discovered bivouacking along the
road beyond that village. When it sighted the French it retired towards
Viscarret. Clausel then ordered his infantry to pursue, but they were
far to the rear and it was only about 3 p.m. when Taupin’s division
came into touch with the light companies of Anson’s brigade, just
as they were falling back on the whole 4th Division, drawn up in a
favourable position on heights behind the Erro river, near the village
of Linzoain. The day had at last become clear and fine. The 31st Léger,
leading the French column, exchanged a lively fusillade with the light
companies, while a squadron of chasseurs tried a charge on their flank.
But both were driven off, and Clausel halted when he saw Cole waiting
for him in order of battle. It was not till he had brought up and
deployed two divisions that he ventured to press the Allied front, and
nothing serious happened till after 4 o’clock.

Meanwhile Picton had come up from the rear, and joined Cole at
Linzoain: the head of his troops had reached Zubiri only three miles
behind. The arrival of the truculent general, looking even more
eccentric than usual, for he was wearing a tall round civilian hat
above a blue undress frock-coat, and was using a furled umbrella by
way of riding whip, was taken by the 4th-Division soldiers as a sign
of battle[912]. ‘Here comes old Tommy: now, boys, make up your minds
for a fight’ passed down the ranks[913]. But, oddly enough, this
was about the only day in Sir Thomas’s military career when he did
not take a fair risk. He certainly came up in a bellicose mood, for
he ordered Ross’s brigade to be ready to move forward when the 3rd
Division should have come up to support it. But after riding to the
front, and holding a long talk with Cole, he agreed with the latter
that it would be dangerous to fight on ground which could be turned
on both flanks, with an enemy who was known to have 35,000 men in
hand. Only part of the French were up--Reille’s divisions after their
stroll in the fog were far to the rear behind Clausel--so it would
be possible to hold on till night, and slip away in the dark. Picton
wrote to Wellington to report his decision, and does not seem in
his dispatch to have realized in the least that he was contravening
the whole spirit of his commander’s instructions of July 23rd with
reference to the ‘stopping of the enemy’s progress towards Pampeluna in
the event of the passes being given up[914].’ He merely stated that he
had received these instructions too late to make it possible for him
to reach Roncesvalles, or to join Cole before the latter had evacuated
his positions[915]. As there was no favourable ground between the Erro
river and the immediate vicinity of Pampeluna, on which a smaller
force could make an effectual stand against a much larger one, he had
determined to retire at once, and proposed to ‘take up a position at
as short a distance as practicable from Pampeluna’--by which he meant
the heights of San Cristobal, only two or three miles out from that
fortress. He was thus intending to give up without further fighting
ten miles of most difficult hilly country, where the enemy could be
checked for a time at every successive ridge--though, no doubt, all the
positions could be turned one after the other by long flank détours.
But the net result was that Picton gave Soult a clear road on the 27th,
and allowed him to arrive in front of Pampeluna on that day, whereas
the least show of resistance between Zubiri and the debouch into the
plains at Huarte, would have forced the French to deploy and waste
time, and they could not have reached the open country till the 28th.
This is sufficiently proved by the extreme difficulty which Soult found
in conducting his march, even when he was not opposed.

So determined was Picton not to fight on the Erro river, or on the
Arga, that he did not bring up his own division from Zubiri, but let it
stand, only three miles behind the line on which Cole kept up a mild
detaining action during the late afternoon hours of the 26th. Soult
attacked with great caution, and more by way of flank movements than by
frontal pressure. By evening Cole had drawn back one mile, and had 168
casualties, all but four of them in Anson’s brigade[916]. Those of the
French can hardly have been more numerous: they seem all to have been
in Taupin’s division[917].

On the afternoon of the 26th Picton had nearly 19,000 men at his
disposition[918], Soult had somewhat less, since Reille’s column was
so far to the rear that it could not get up before dark. There was no
wonder, therefore, that the enemy made no resolute attack; and it can
only be said that the Marshal was acting very wisely, for the French
force on the ground was not sufficient to move the opposing body, until
Reille should have come up; and Cole and Picton had resolved not to
give way before dark. But when the fires of the French, shining for
many miles on each side of the road, showed that they had settled down
for the night, Cole drew off his division, and retired on Zubiri, where
he passed through Picton’s troops, who were to take over the rearguard
duty, as they were fresh and well rested. Campbell’s Portuguese dropped
into the line of march from Eugui, by orders issued to them that
afternoon, and by 11 p.m. the whole corps was in march for Pampeluna.
Its departure had passed wholly unnoticed by the enemy. Meanwhile,
Wellington’s aide-de-camp, riding through the night from Almandoz, with
orders to Picton to maintain the ground which he was abandoning, can
only have met the column when it was drawing near its destination.

It was quite early in the morning, though the sun was well up, when the
head of the retreating column reached the village of Zabaldica, where
the valley of the Arga begins to open out into the plain of Pampeluna,
between the last flanking heights which constrict it. In front was the
very ill-chosen position which Picton intended to hold, along a line of
hills which are quite separate from the main block of the mountains,
and stretch isolated in the lowland for some five miles north-west and
south-east. These are the hill of Huarte on the right, parted from the
mountains by the valley of the Egues river; the hill of San Miguel in
the centre, on the other side of the high road and of the Arga river,
and on the left the very long ridge of San Cristobal, separated from
San Miguel by the Ulzama river, which flows all along its front.

Now these hills are strong posts in themselves, each with a good
glacis of slope in its front; the gaps between them are stopped
by the large villages of Villaba and Huarte, both susceptible of
obstinate defence; and the two flanking hills are covered in front
by river-beds--though fordable ones. But they are far too close to
Pampeluna, which is but one single mile from San Cristobal: the guns
of the fortress actually commanded at a range of only 1,200 yards, the
sole road of communication along the rear of the position. Cassan’s
garrison of 3,000 men was not large enough to furnish men for any large
sortie--though he made a vigorous sally against O’Donnell’s blockading
division on the 27th, and destroyed some of its trenches[919]. But no
army should fight with a hostile fortress less than two miles in its
rear, and commanding its line of retreat: it is surprising that such
an old soldier as Picton chose this ground--presumably he was seduced
by the fine position for both infantry and guns which it shows looking
towards the enemy’s road of arrival.

Apparently Cole had a better eye for ground than Picton, for as they
were riding together between Zabaldica and Huarte, he pointed out to
his senior the advantage that would be gained by throwing forward the
left wing of the army to a position much more remote from Pampeluna,
the hill of Oricain or Sorauren, which faces the San Cristobal ridge
from the other side of the Ulzama river[920]. This height is the
last roll of the mountains, but almost separated from their main
_massif_: it is only joined to the next summit by a high _col_ at its
right centre. For the rest of its length it is separated from its
neighbour-height by a well-marked ravine. Its flanks are guarded by
the beds of the Arga to the right and the Ulzama to the left. It is
well under two miles long, about 1,000 feet high, and except at the
Col has a very formidable front of steep slopes, covered with gorse
and scattered bushes. The whole formed a strong and self-contained
position, whose weak point was that it was rather too much in advance
of the Huarte-San Miguel heights, which trend away southward, so that
when the army was drawn out its right was much ‘refused,’ and its left
very much thrown forward. It was also inconvenient that the access
to the crest from the rear was bad, a steep climb by sheep-tracks
from Oricain or Arre, up which all food or munitions would have to
be brought. From the north there was a slightly better path to the
summit from Sorauren, leading up to the small pilgrimage chapel of
San Salvador on the left end of the crest. But this would be of more
use to the assailants than to the defenders of the heights. Between
the Col and the river Arga, and close above the village of Zabaldica,
there was a spur or under-feature of the main position, which formed
a sort of outwork or flank protection to it. At the moment when the
retreating army was passing on towards Huarte, this spur was being held
by two Spanish battalions, part of the division which O’Donnell, by
Wellington’s orders, had detached to reinforce Picton. It was perhaps
the sight of this small force in a very good position which suggested
to Cole that the right policy was to prolong his line in continuation
of it, across the Col and as far as the chapel above Sorauren.

Having allowed Cole to take up his new advanced position, Picton drew
out the 3rd Division on the hill to the right of Huarte, with its flank
eastwards covered by four brigades of cavalry, which had come up by
Wellington’s orders from their cantonments on the Ebro[921]. Morillo’s
Spaniards continued the line westward along the Cerro de San Miguel,
as far as Villaba: from thence the San Cristobal ridge was occupied by
the greater part of the division which O’Donnell had drawn from the
blockading lines--all, in fact, save the two battalions in advance
on the hill by Zabaldica. Later in the day two battalions more were
added from the besieging force, for Carlos de España’s division from
Castile had arrived, and relieved part of the troops which had hitherto
been observing Pampeluna. Byng’s brigade was told off to support the
4th Division, and took post on the rear of the summit of the Oricain
hill, half a mile behind Cole. The actual fighting line on the left
was composed of Anson’s brigade on the Col, next to the Spaniards on
the lower spur, of Campbell’s Portuguese upon the central stretch
of the heights (except one battalion which was sent to support the
Spaniards below)[922], and of Ross’s brigade holding the left. Stubbs’s
Portuguese were in rear of Campbell’s, except the 7th Caçadores, which
was detached to the front and held the ground about the chapel of San
Salvador. The divisional battery (Sympher’s of the K.G.L.) was placed
far down the right side of the hill, below and behind Byng’s brigade,
in a position from which it could sweep the high road from Zabaldica to
Arleta. Cole’s tactical dispositions were in the complete Wellingtonian
style, with the light companies and caçadores thrown out some way
down the slope, far in advance of the main force, whose battalions
were drawn back well behind the sky-line, so as to be invisible till
the last moment to enemies storming the hill. Soult followed up the
retreating Allies at such a slow pace that the whole of Picton’s
troops were settling into their ground before the enemy came in
sight[923].

The slow advance of the French was due to the accumulation of such
a large force in a narrow valley provided with only one road. The
Marshal made an attempt to relieve the congestion, by ordering that the
_chaussée_ should be left to Clausel and to the cavalry and impedimenta
in his rear, while Reille’s divisions should move on the east bank of
the Arga by local paths between the villages. The excellent intention
of securing room for both columns to move freely had no good result.
Clausel arrived in front of Zabaldica by 9 a.m.[924] But Reille was
nowhere in sight. His report fully explains his absence: he had
obeyed orders by turning up into the hills a mile and a half beyond
the village of Erro. ‘This direction rendered the march of the three
divisions extremely slow and difficult. They found no road, and had
to tramp through brushwood, climb steep slopes, or to follow tracks
obliterated by recent rain. At last Count Reille took the decision
to abandon the high ground. The 1st Division (Foy) dropped down to
the village of Alzuza on the extreme left. The 7th Division (Maucune)
re-descended into the valley of the Arga, a little above Iroz, where
it bivouacked. The 9th Division (Lamartinière) also came down into the
valley opposite Larrasoana, and kept along the high road to Iroz,’
where it fell in with the rear of Clausel’s column late in the day. The
only result of Soult’s precaution had been to put Reille out of the
game on the 27th, just as on the 26th.

For the whole of the morning hours, therefore, Soult had only Clausel’s
corps at his disposition, a fact which accounts for the unenterprising
character of his action. But that the 27th was a very slack day on
the French side was not Clausel’s fault. On arriving at Zabaldica,
and discovering that the heights of Oricain were held in strength,
he did not wait for the Marshal’s orders, but began to form a line
of battle parallel to Cole’s front, along the mountain opposite.
Halting Conroux’s division on the high road in face of the hill held
by the Spaniards, he pushed Taupin’s and Vandermaesen’s divisions
up the slopes, with cavalry detachments feeling the way in front
of them, till they had lined the whole ridge, and their right was
overlooking Sorauren and the valley of the Ulzama. He then sent down
to ask the Marshal’s leave to attack, saying that he could see from
the summit behind his line large baggage trains moving away along
the Vittoria road in the plain of Pampeluna, and bodies of troops in
motion northward[925]--the enemy was about to raise the siege, and was
only offering a rearguard action in order to cover the retreat of his
impedimenta. If pressed he would give way at once[926].

Soult did not believe this, and very rightly; but being pressed by
repeated messages he mounted up to the heights behind Clausel’s front
at 11 a.m.: if he had chanced to notice it, he was just in time to see
a solitary horseman ride up the north-western slope of the hill of
Oricain, and to hear the whole of the Allied troops aligned opposite
him burst out into a storm of tempestuous cheering. Wellington had come
upon the ground. Soult heard the noise, but (as his dispatches show)
did not guess its precise cause. He thought that reinforcements had
just come up for Cole.

The story of Wellington’s eventful ride from Almandoz to Sorauren is a
very interesting one. Much irritated at receiving no further news from
Picton, he had mounted at sunrise and ridden over the Col de Velate,
taking with him only George Murray, his Quartermaster-General, his
Military Secretary Fitzroy Somerset, and three or four other officers:
the bulk of the head-quarters staff was to follow at leisure. On
arriving at Lanz, the first village on the south side of the pass, they
heard rumours of Picton’s continued retreat, though they do not seem to
have met the aide-de-camp whom he had sent off on the preceding night
to report it. This news was so unexpected and vexatious that Wellington
halted for a moment, to send back orders to Hill to the effect that it
was conceivable that affairs might go badly on the Pampeluna front.
If so, the whole right or southern wing of the army might have to
swing back to the line Yrurzun-Tolosa, and Hill would have to direct
his own two divisions, and also Dalhousie, and Pack, with all the
artillery and baggage, to fall back westward on Lizaso and Lecumberri,
instead of coming over the Col de Velate towards Pampeluna. The Light
Division, too, might have to leave the neighbourhood of the Bastan,
and to retire to Zubieta on the Oyarzun-Lecumberri road, in order to
keep up the touch between the main army and Graham’s force in front of
St. Sebastian. The latter general, however, was not to move, unless
matters went very badly indeed, as the blockade of St. Sebastian must
be kept up till the last possible minute. But previous orders were to
stand, unless and until the Commander-in-Chief should send new ones: in
particular Pack and the 6th Division were expected at Olague, and the
batteries of Silveira’s division and the Light Division might come on
to Lanz, as there was an artillery road from Olague by which they might
be turned off eastward if it became necessary[927].

On getting five miles farther down the road, Wellington halted for
another moment at Olague, to leave word that the 6th Division[928],
when it arrived, was to hold that place till further notice, and
especially to look out for a possible movement of the French across the
hills from Eugui, which must be blocked at all costs. Pack must turn
all wheeled transport, batteries, convoys, &c., arriving from the Col
de Velate off the high road to Pampeluna, and send them westward by the
side road Olague-Lizaso, at which last-named village everything must
wait for further orders. The closest and most frequent communication
must be kept up with Hill’s corps, which would be wanting to use this
same road. Finally, Pack, after resting his division and giving it its
noonday meal, must be ready to march again at a moment’s notice in the
afternoon[929].

Three miles farther down the road, at Ostiz, Wellington found waiting
for him General Long, with some of the squadrons of his Light Dragoons,
who were dispersed all along the lines of communication, keeping touch
with all divisions. Long gave the alarming information that Picton had
abandoned the Linzoain and Zubiri positions during the previous night,
and was now in the immediate neighbourhood of Pampeluna, where he was
intending to fight on the San Cristobal heights. The French were known
to be in pursuit, and a collision might occur at any moment--indeed
might have occurred already, but no firing had yet been heard.

Ostiz is only four miles from Sorauren and six from Villaba; there
was probably time to reach the fighting ground before an action might
commence. Wellington directed his Quartermaster-General to stop behind,
and make preparations for turning all troops off the Lanz valley road
on to the Lizaso road, if he should receive further orders in the next
hour--everything depended on what was going on six miles away. He
then went off at racing speed down the _chaussée_, gradually dropping
behind him all his staff except Fitzroy Somerset--their horses could
not keep up with his thoroughbred. Turning the corner half a mile from
Sorauren, he suddenly came on the whole panorama of battle. Cole’s
line was visible on the right-hand heights stretching away from the
Chapel of San Salvador to the Col above Zabaldica. On the opposite
mountain Taupin’s and Vandermaesen’s divisions were moving along the
crest towards Sorauren and the Ulzama valley: cavalry vedettes were
pushing ahead of them all over the slopes, looking for paths or British
outposts. They were only a mile away at most. There was just time,
and no more, to join Cole and take over the direction of affairs.
Wellington put on full speed till he reached Sorauren bridge, and
then (with his usual cool-blooded calculation of risks and moments)
dismounted, and wrote a short order to Murray in pencil, using the
cap-stone of the bridge end as his table. While he was writing the
thirteen hurried lines, he was much distracted by well-intentioned
peasants, who flocked around him with shouts that the French were
coming down into the other end of the village. But the dispatch reads
clearly enough. Murray is informed that the high road is blocked
by the presence of the French at Sorauren; all troops, therefore,
must turn off on to the side-road Olague-Lizaso, both Pack and the
artillery, and also Hill’s corps. The latter must march at once from
the Bastan, and get across the Col de Velate by nightfall if it could,
leaving a rearguard to hold the pass against any possible pursuit by
D’Erlon. The 7th Division near Santesteban should also come across by
the Puerto de Arraiz to Lizaso. Orders for the further movements of all
troops would be sent to Lizaso as soon as possible[930].

Fitzroy Somerset dashed out of the village at its northern end with the
completed dispatch, just as the French chasseurs came exploring into
its other end. He was not seen, or at least not pursued, and Murray
received the orders, which made Lizaso the concentration point of all
the central divisions of the army in half an hour, and set to work to
amplify them and to forward them to their destinations. As Wellington
very truly observed, several hours were gained by sending back Somerset
by the straight road, and in particular the 6th Division was able to
reach Lizaso by dark, and to get a good rest for the march of the next
day to the battlefield[931].

Meanwhile, Wellington, now all alone, rode up the steep track which
rises from Sorauren to the pilgrimage-chapel on the height above, and
was presently among the skirmishing line of O’Toole’s Caçadores, who
were holding that corner of the front. His familiar but unobtrusive
silhouette--the short frock-coat, small plumeless cocked hat fitting
down tight over the great Roman nose, and wiry thoroughbred--was
at once recognized--the Portuguese set up the cry of ‘Douro,’ with
which they were wont to greet him--recalling the first victory in
which English and Portuguese co-operated, and also his first title
of nobility: the noise swelled into the hoarse cheers of the British
soldier as it passed up the line towards the Col. The 4th Division,
which had been grumbling bitterly since it had been on the retreat,
suddenly felt the atmosphere change. ‘I never can forget the joy
which beamed in every countenance when his Lordship’s presence became
known. It diffused a feeling of confidence throughout all ranks. No
more dispiriting murmurs on the awkwardness of our situation: now we
began to talk of driving the French over the frontier as a matter of
course[932].’ Wellington halted in front of Ross’s brigade, and for a
long time studied the French movements through a telescope. He easily
made out Soult himself, who was conferring with Clausel and other
staff-officers in a conspicuous group. Napier says that he observed
that the Marshal would have heard the cheering, and would try to make
out what it was about, before taking any serious step: ‘that will give
time for the 6th Division to arrive, and I shall beat him.’ There is
no corroboration for this story, though it may be true: Napier was in
England on July 28th, and speaks only from hearsay. But an eye-witness
present on the spot says that General Ross, as his chief continued
to focus the French staff, ventured the remark that ‘this time Soult
certainly meditates an attack,’ to which Wellington, with the glass
still to his eye, replied, ‘It is just probable that _I_ shall attack
_him_[933]. And this thought seems to be corroborated by a remark
which Wellington made six days after to Judge Larpent, to the effect
that he should and could have done more on the 27th[934]. The French
army was but half arrived--only Clausel’s three divisions were up,
and Reille was at 11 a.m. still miles away. The enemy was tempting
Providence by marching across the Allied front, just as Marmont had
done at Salamanca a year before.

Whether Soult was stopped from an early attack, by guessing that the
cheers on Cole’s front implied the arrival of Wellington, seems more
than doubtful. There is, of course, no trace of such an idea in the
French dispatches--naturally it would not have been mentioned. But the
one personal narrative which we have from a member of the group of
Soult’s staff-officers whom Wellington was eyeing, is to the effect
that Clausel was at the moment trying to persuade the Marshal to attack
at once, though only half his force was up, that Soult utterly refused
to do so, spread out his maps, and finally took his lunch and a nap
after it. ‘Clausel meanwhile leaning against an oak was literally
beating his forehead with rage, muttering “Who could go to sleep at
such a moment”[935].’

What is certain is that Soult’s dispatch to Paris says that he had
discovered that Wellington had arrived _in the afternoon_, which would
seem to show that he did not know by personal observation that he
had come up at 11 a.m. He says, also, that at the moment of his own
arrival the Allies had 30,000 men in line, including all the blockading
troops from Pampeluna, which rendered it necessary to make a thorough
examination of their position, and to get up all the divisions[936].
To discover the exact ground on which the enemy intended to fight, it
proved necessary to make demonstrations or partial attacks.

Two of these were executed: the spur held by the two Spanish
battalions, above Zabaldica, was so close in to the French position,
that it was thought worth while to make an attempt to occupy it. A
regiment of Conroux’s division was sent up from the village to storm
it, but was handsomely repulsed, when near the top of the slope, by
a charge in line of these corps (Principe and Pravia of O’Donnell’s
Andalusian Reserve). Clausel’s report says that his men ‘took the hill
but could not keep it,’ but many British eye-witnesses on the slope
above say that the summit was never reached. Clausel estimates the loss
of his regiment at 100 men, Soult gives the more liberal estimate of
200. The repulse showed plainly enough that the whole hill of Oricain
was to form part of the Allies’ position, and that they intended to
fight for every inch of it.

Late in the afternoon Soult directed Foy, who had now reached Alzuza on
the extreme French left, to demonstrate against the heights of Huarte,
so as to discover the end of the British line, and the strength in
which it was held. Foy sent forward two regiments in column down the
slope toward the Egues river, while showing the rest of his troops on
the hill behind. When the French got within cannon shot, Picton brought
up the whole 3rd Division to the crest, and R. Hill’s and Ponsonby’s
heavy cavalry showed themselves in front of the village of Gorraiz,
covering his flank. The divisional battery fired a few rounds at the
columns, which at once swerved and retired in haste. Foy could report
that the Huarte heights were held in strength, and by all arms.

This was the last incident of the day--shortly afterwards a heavy
thunderstorm swept down from the Pyrenees, darkened the twilight,
and drenched both armies. The same thing had happened on the eve of
Salamanca--and was to happen again on the eve of Waterloo.

Far more important than the trifling skirmishes of the afternoon were
the arrangements for the morrow--orders and dispatches, which the rival
commanders were evolving during the evening hours. Soult felt himself
still blocked in the valley of the Arga and wanted to deploy--was
it possible to get his long column of guns and cavalry out of the
defile--and if so, how? Was there a possibility of extending to the
left beyond Foy’s present position, or to the right beyond Sorauren,
the limit of Clausel’s occupation? Or must the Oricain heights be
captured at all costs before the army could get into a proper order
of battle? Could any immediate help be expected from D’Erlon, whose
tiresome letter of the 26th had come to hand, showing that he was no
farther forward than Elizondo on that night? He was not doing his best
to occupy the enemy in his front, and there was a danger that Hill
might arrive at Sorauren long before the corps that had been set the
task of occupying his attention.

There would appear to have been something like a council of war at the
French head-quarters in the evening, in which Clausel, Reille, Gazan,
the Chief of the Staff, and probably other officers took part. Clausel
wished to extend the line northward up the valley of the Ulzama, and
to turn the flank of the whole Oricain position. The objection to this
was that the transport and guns could not follow over the mule-tracks
which must be used; they were blocked in the Arga valley as long as the
Allies held the heights commanding the main road. Moreover, reports
had come in that British troops were descending on to Sorauren by
the Lanz valley road, who would take in flank any attempt of Clausel
to turn the Oricain position. (This seems to refer to the arrival of
the 6th Division at Olague, but Long’s cavalry was also visible up
the _chaussée_.) And an extension of the French right to the heights
westward would make the whole line of battle very long and weak:
how could Reille’s three divisions take over the whole ground from
Sorauren to Alzuza? After much discussion Soult decided in favour of
a concentric attack on the whole Oricain position by five of his six
divisions, while only Foy should remain out on the left, observing
and containing the British force on the Huarte hills. Clausel’s three
divisions should attack Cole’s line from Sorauren to the Col, two of
Reille’s divisions should co-operate, by assailing the Col and the
Spaniards’ Hill south of it. Some guns should be got to the front if
possible, and Foy should be lent some cavalry, who must climb over
the hills to cover his flank. Details would have to be settled on the
morrow, also the transference of troops, who could not move in the dark
over steep and unknown ground. Yet there was an uneasy feeling that too
much time had been lost already--Soult notes a rumour that Wellington
had announced the approach of four more British divisions. Even the
arrival of D’Erlon could not compensate for this, and it did not look
as if D’Erlon was likely to appear early on the 28th.

Wellington moved the troops who were on the ground very little
that evening--only relieving the Portuguese battalion which was in
reserve on the hill above Zabaldica by a British regiment of Anson’s
brigade--the 40th Foot--and sending two of O’Donnell’s battalions to
Ollocarizqueta, to watch the mountain road west of Sorauren, by which
it was conceivable that Clausel might try to turn the hill of Oricain.
He had got news that French troops had been seen beyond Sorauren,
and did not want to have them prying too close behind this flank, or
observing the paths by which he intended to bring up his reserves on
that side.

For his main attention that afternoon was devoted to drawing up the
orders for the divisions coming from the Bastan, which he had promised
to send to Murray, in the note that Fitzroy Somerset bore from the
bridge of Sorauren. At 4 o’clock he sent off the all-important
dispatch[937]. It will be remembered that his last orders provided
for the successive arrival at Lizaso of the 6th and 7th Divisions, of
the whole corps of Hill, and of the artillery, and divisional baggage
trains of all the troops.

Pack was to start from Lizaso at dawn, and to move as rapidly as
possible along the country road by Marcalain to Ollocarizqueta, which
goes along the back of the hills that form the right bank of the valley
of the Ulzama. At the last-named village (which he would find held by
two Spanish battalions) he would be only five miles from Cole’s flank,
and in a position to strengthen or cover it. A supplementary note[938]
warned Pack that if any French were found anywhere on the way he must
not let himself be turned off; even if it came to leaving the road
and taking to mountain tracks, the 6th Division _must_ arrive at its
destination. The artillery and the reserve of infantry ammunition were
to follow Pack, unless serious opposition were offered to him, in which
case they must return to Lizaso, and from thence turn on to Yrurzun.

Dalhousie and Hill had already had orders to march on Lizaso, the one
by the Puerto de Arraiz, the other by the Velate. Both had a long
march, but Wellington hoped that they might reach Lizaso during the
night of the 27th-28th. If the men were not over-fatigued, all three
divisions should follow Pack to Ollocarizqueta, after being given a
suitable time of rest. All impedimenta likely to hinder rapid marching,
and the wounded from the Maya fight, were to be directed from Lizaso
to Yrurzun. Murray had already, acting on the orders of the Sorauren
Bridge dispatch of 11 a.m., sent the route for Lizaso to Hill and
Dalhousie, adding some precautions of his own, to the effect that they
should leave small rearguards at the passes, to detain D’Erlon if he
should come up. Moreover, he had spread out the 1st Hussars of the
K.G.L. along the roads, to keep up touch between all the divisions
on the move, and also between Lizaso and the Light Division, now at
Zubieta. The only addition made by Wellington’s new orders was the
all-important one that everything of the fighting sort that came to
Lizaso was to march for the main army, but all baggage for Yrurzun.

Of the arrangements thus made, that for Pack worked perfectly--he was
at Ollocarizqueta with the 6th Division before 10 a.m. on the morning
of the 28th. But Hill and Dalhousie were detained in the passes by
the storm of the evening of the 27th, and only reached Lizaso so late
on the 28th that they were of no use in the fighting of that day. As
Wellington observed to Larpent[939], they could both have got into the
battle of Sorauren if they had been given a longer march on the 26th,
but ignorance of Cole’s and Picton’s retreat had prevented him from
starting them early enough. However, the 6th Division alone sufficed to
settle the matter.

The morning of the 28th was fine and bright--the storm of the preceding
night seemed to have cleared the clouds from the hills, and the eye
could range freely over a very wide landscape. Not only was the battle
front of each army visible to the other, but from the high crest on or
behind each position, a good deal could be made out of what was going
on in the rear. This was more the case with the French line than with
the British: Wellington’s usual plan of keeping his main force behind
the sky-line had great efficacy on such lofty ground as that of the
heights of Oricain.

Soult spent the long hours of the July morning in moving his troops to
the positions which had been selected on the previous night. Conroux’s
division, abandoning Zabaldica, marched over the hills in the rear of
Clausel’s other divisions, and occupied Sorauren village--relieving
there some of Taupin’s battalions, which shifted a little to their
left. To replace Conroux at Zabaldica Lamartinière came up from Iroz,
and deployed one brigade (Gauthier’s) in front of the Spaniards’ Hill,
while the other (Menne’s) remained in reserve beside the Arga, with
two regiments across the high road and the third on the slopes east
of the river. Maucune’s division, starting up the slopes from the
rear of Iroz, took post on the heights immediately opposite the Col,
with its right touching the left of Vandermaesen. Two regiments were
in front line exactly in face of the Col, a third somewhat farther to
the left, keeping touch with Lamartinière’s brigade near Zabaldica.
The other brigade (Montfort’s) was placed in reserve farther up the
mountain[940]. Pierre Soult’s light cavalry regiments disentangled
themselves from the long cavalry and artillery column in the rear,
and picked their way up the heights southward till they reached Foy’s
position, from which they extended themselves to the left, till they
reached as far as the village of Elcano. Four howitzers were chosen
out of the batteries in the rear, and brought forward to the front of
Zabaldica, a position in which it was hoped that their high-trajectory
fire might reach effectively the Allies on the Col and the Spanish
Hill. These were the only French cannon used that day, except some
mule-guns employed by Clausel on the side of Sorauren.

The greater part of these movements were perfectly visible to
Wellington, though some of them were intermittently screened from sight
when the marching columns dipped into dead ground, or were passing
through thickets. They took up so many hours that he wrote to Graham at
10.30 that it looked as if Soult was not inclined to attack. Meanwhile,
the only British force on the move was the 6th Division, which had been
marching since daylight, and arrived about 10 a.m. at Ollocarizqueta.
On getting news of its presence, Wellington ordered it to move by a
country road which comes across a crack in the hills west of the Ulzama
not far from the village of Oricain, and after reaching that river
to keep its Portuguese brigade on the western bank, its two British
brigades on the eastern, and so to advance till it should arrive facing
Sorauren, prolonging Cole’s left in the lower ground, and covering him
from any attempt to turn his flank. About noon Pack’s leading troops
began to appear--these were Madden’s Portuguese on the left of the
division, working along the hillside west of the Ulzama.

Now the ‘zero’ hour for the general attack on the whole Allied front
had been fixed by Soult for 1 o’clock, but long before that hour
Clausel was informed by an exploring officer, whom he had sent to the
hills on the other side of the Ulzama, beyond his right, that a heavy
British column was visible coming from the direction of Marcalain,
obviously to join the British left[941]. Now the French general had
been thinking of turning Cole’s flank on this side, and had actually
got troops some little way up the Ulzama valley beyond Sorauren. But
hearing of Pack’s approach and of his strength, he determined that he
must now turn his attention to fending off this move against his own
flank, and that the effort would absorb no small portion of his troops.
Conroux’s division had been originally intended for the attack of the
north-west corner of the Oricain heights, to the right (French) of
the chapel, while Taupin was to make the chapel itself his objective;
Vandermaesen was to strike at the centre of Cole’s position, and
Maucune to attack the Col. But Clausel determined that, in order to
make the general frontal attack feasible, he must at once stop the
forward march of Pack, and keep him at a distance, while the other
divisions made their great stroke. Accordingly he called in his right
wing detachments, and having concentrated Conroux’s strong division
(7,000 bayonets) he ordered it, at 12.30, to deploy across the valley
of the Ulzama below Sorauren and advance in two lines of brigades
against the approaching British column. This movement--probably a
necessary one--brought on the first clash of battle, half an hour
before the appointed time for the general movement. Clausel at the same
moment sent word to the other divisions to attack at once; but they
were not quite ready, the fixed hour not having yet been reached.

But Conroux pushed up the valley farther than was prudent, for when he
was some half a mile beyond Sorauren, he found himself encompassed
on three sides--Madden’s Portuguese pushing forward along the hill on
the other side of the river, turned in on his right flank, some of
Ross’s skirmishers on the slopes west of the chapel of San Salvador
came down and began to fire upon his left flank, while the main body of
the 6th Division--Stirling’s brigade deployed in front line, Lambert’s
supporting in column--met him face to face in the low ground. The
concentric fire was too heavy to be stood, and Conroux had to give
back, fighting fiercely, till he had the support of the village of
Sorauren at his back: there the battle stood still, for Pack had orders
to cover Cole’s flank, not to attack the enemy’s[942].

Meanwhile, the general frontal attack was being delivered by the other
French divisions, starting from the right, as each got forward on
receiving Clausel’s orders to anticipate the fixed hour and advance
at once. Hence the assault was made in échelon of brigades from the
right, Taupin’s two brigades being a little ahead of Vandermaesen’s,
and Vandermaesen’s perceptibly earlier on the hill than the brigade of
Maucune which attacked at the Col. The separate assault by Lamartinière
on the Spaniards’ Hill is definitely stated by that general to have
been made at 12 o’clock--earlier, apparently, than the others--but
he is contradicted by Reille, in command on this front, who says that
it started _vers une heure_. This is much more likely to be correct.

[Illustration: Second Battle of SORAUREN and Combat of BEUNZA _July 30,
1813_]

The assault on the hill of Oricain bears a remarkable likeness to the
battle of Bussaco, both being attacks by a series of brigade columns on
a steep hill, with every disadvantage except numbers to the assailant.
Cole’s position was singularly like that of Picton in the battle of
1810, the main differences being that the hillside was not quite so
steep or quite so high, and was strewn with clumps of brushwood in
its lower slopes, while the Bussaco ground only shows heather and a
little gorse. At the Portuguese fight the defenders of the hill had
some help from artillery--at the Navarrese fight none. On the other
hand, Cole had a shorter line to defend, and more men to hold it.
Reynier attacked with 13,000 infantry--Clausel with 20,000--including
in each case unengaged reserve brigades. Picton held the slopes of
San Antonio de Cantaro with 6,800 men--Cole had about 11,000 at
Oricain--the proportional difference therefore between the attacking
and the defending force was much the same[943]. By an odd chance no
less than four French regiments climbed both these deadly hills (17th
Léger, 31st Léger, 47th and 70th Line); but the only officer who has
left us his narrative of both fights does not chance to have compared
them, though he was a competent observer and a fluent writer[944]. None
of Cole’s regiments, on the other hand, had been engaged at Bussaco,
though eight of them were present on that field in unattacked sectors
of Wellington’s line.

The direction of the attack of the six French brigades which mounted
the hill of Oricain was such that in their first advance Taupin’s right
brigade (Lecamus) attacked Ross; his left brigade (Béchaud) came in
where Ross’s and Campbell’s lines met: both Vandermaesen’s were opposed
to Campbell’s centre and right; Maucune’s front brigade tackled Anson
at the Col, and Gauthier of Lamartinière’s division assailed the 40th
and the Spaniards on the slopes above Zabaldica. The six brigades made
15,000 bayonets in all--the rear brigades of Maucune and Lamartinière
not being counted, for they never closed. Conroux was paired off
against Pack in the low ground, fighting against numbers not much
inferior to his own.

Lecamus’s brigade, starting from a short distance south of Sorauren,
made for the north-west corner of the heights,--its four battalion
columns screened by their eight _compagnies d’élite_ in a dense
swarm[945], much thicker than the usual French skirmishing line. This
column, the first up the hill, pushed before it the light companies of
the British 20th and 23rd, and the 7th Portuguese Caçadores, and won
its way nearly to the crest, when it was charged by Ross with the whole
Fusilier Brigade and thrown violently down hill. It was not pursued
far, and ultimately rallied, but was for some time out of action. The
Fusiliers had hardly resumed their former position and re-formed, when
the second French column came up the hill a little way to the left of
the last attack, aiming at the Chapel of San Salvador. This was the
five battalions of Béchaud’s brigade, which had in front of it the
line of the 10th Caçadores, supported by Ross’s right-hand battalion
and the left battalion of Campbell’s Portuguese. This column actually
reached the summit, driving the Caçadores before it, and established
itself by the chapel, but was finally thrown down by a flank attack of
Ross’s left-hand battalions, while it was heavily engaged with the 7th
Fusiliers and Campbell’s 10th Line in front. It rallied only a short
way down the hill, as there was no pursuit.

This fight was still in progress when Vandermaesen’s two brigades
came up the hill, each in a single column preceded by a heavy screen
of _tirailleurs_. They came into collision with Campbell’s centre and
left, drove in his Caçadores[946] and light companies, and forced
their way right to the summit, after a very sharp exchange of fire.
Cole was obliged to send up Stubbs’s Portuguese to strengthen the line,
which held for some time, but finally gave way on its left, where the
10th Line broke, thus exposing the flank of Ross’s 7th Fusiliers, its
next neighbours along the crest. At the same time Béchaud’s brigade,
now rallied, came up the hill for a second attack on Ross, whose
line, or at least the right-hand part of it, lost ground and fell
back in some disorder. At the same moment the French column beyond
Vandermaesen--Maucune’s front brigade--was attacking the Col. ‘At that
instant,’ wrote Clausel to Soult, ‘I had, despite all the difficulties
of the enterprise, some hope of success[947].’

The combat seems to have stood still for a perceptible time--the French
troops had established themselves on a long strip of the crest, and
were slowly pushing back Campbell’s left and Ross’s right, which had
suffered severely and were in bad order. But the enemy was also in
great confusion--the columns and the skirmishing line had dissolved
into irregular crowds. The men were absolutely exhausted by the steep
climb which they had just made; and the blasting volleys which they had
received before reaching the crest had laid low a very large proportion
of the officers, who had led with reckless courage. There was no
impetus left in their advance, which was slow and irregular.

The decision of the fight seems to have started on the very highest
point of the hill, where Maucune’s front brigade was attacking Anson.
Here the French never won the crest, and were thrown back with extreme
violence and terrible loss. The laconic report of the division merely
says that ‘the advance was a complete failure: the troops were repulsed
at every point, and returned to their original position with the loss
of 600 to 700 men and a colonel[948].’ The whole strength of the three
attacking battalions had been only 2,200 men, and all the casualties
coming in ten minutes, the column was too hard hit to rally. Nor
did Maucune choose to send in his rear brigade, which was the only
intact reserve on the French heights. After watching this complete
failure of the central assault from behind Anson’s line, and noting
the demoralization of the enemy, Wellington took the very bold step
of ordering two of Anson’s three battalions[949], the 3/27th and
1/48th, to descend from their own ground, and fall on the flank of
Vandermaesen’s division, which was advancing slowly and in disorder,
pushing back Campbell’s and Stubbs’s Portuguese. He left only the 2nd
Provisional (2nd and 2/53rd) to hold the high point from which Maucune
had just been repulsed. At the same time Byng’s brigade, hitherto kept
in reserve a quarter of a mile back, on the centre of the hill, was
ordered to advance and support Ross.

The diagonal downhill charge of the 3/27th and 1/48th was swift and
irresistible, when falling on the flank of a disordered mass. A French
observer on the opposite mountain noted and admired it. ‘The enemy’s
reinforcements, which he launched against our divisions, charged at
a running pace, but with such order and unity that looking on from
a distance one might have thought it was cavalry galloping. Hardly
had they repulsed the troops on their right, when they ran in on the
centre, and after the centre on to the left.... Our men came back four
times to the assault, but what could three divisions do against an army
perfectly settled down into its position, which had only to receive
the shock of troops already half discomfited by exhaustion and by the
obstacles of an inaccessible hillside[950].’ Wellington merely says, ‘I
ordered the 27th and 48th to charge first that body of the enemy which
had first established itself on the heights (Vandermaesen) and next
those on the left (Béchaud): both attacks succeeded, and the enemy was
driven down with immense loss.’

Byng’s brigade was in time to give assistance in the last part of the
attack, but was only slightly engaged; its three battalions had no more
than 70 casualties among them[951], while the 27th and 48th counted no
less than 389--a sufficient proof of the sort of resistance which they
respectively met.

With the general repulse of the French brigades which had established
themselves on the crest, the crisis of the battle was over. But
sporadic fighting continued for an hour more, owing to the gallant
obstinacy of the French officers, who at several points of the line
rallied their battalions and brought them up the hill again for
partial and obviously futile attacks. As Wellington had forbidden all
pursuit, the enemy had full power to reassemble half-way down the
hill and to try his luck again. But since the men were tired out, and
quite understood that if a general assault by six brigades had failed,
isolated pushes by individual regiments were hopeless, there was no
conviction in these later attacks. About four o’clock Soult sent orders
that they must cease, and that all troops must return to their original
positions.

It remains to speak of three side-shows of the battle, one of which
was of great interest and some importance. It will be remembered that
when the great advance took place about 1 a.m., Gauthier’s brigade at
Zabaldica was told to storm the spur opposite, now held by the British
40th and the Spanish battalions Pravia and Principe. There was some
artillery preparation here, the howitzers beside the village having
been directed to open a high-trajectory fire on the hill. It had,
however, no effect, and the infantry were put in ere long. As to what
happened British and French accounts show a satisfactory agreement.
Gauthier first sent up the 120th, a strong three-battalion unit,
keeping the 122nd (two battalions) in reserve. The attack was frontal,
and in one column--possibly the presence of Sympher’s battery to the
right rear, sweeping all the slopes above the Arga river, prohibited
any flank extension to turn the position.

Reille, who directed this attack in person from Zabaldica, says that
the regiment went up the hill with a very strong screen of skirmishers
(no doubt all the six _compagnies d’élite_) but in great disorder, the
pace having been pressed too much up a very steep ascent, so that the
whole arrived at the crest in a mass. The enemy, who had been waiting
behind the sky-line, suddenly appeared at the critical moment, and
opened such a heavy and effective fire that the 120th crumpled up and
rolled down hill. The Allies, contented with the result of their salvo,
did not pursue, but stepped back behind the crest. Gauthier rallied
the defeated regiment half-way down the slope, and brought up the 122nd
to assist: he then repeated the assault over the same ground, and
with better success, for the 120th reached the crest, and broke up a
Portuguese regiment (it was really two _Spanish_ battalions), and came
to a deadly musketry contest with the English regiment posted on the
highest ground. There was a fusillade almost muzzle to muzzle, but the
French regiment finally gave way ‘whether from the disadvantage of the
position or from over-fatigue after twice climbing such steep slopes’.
The 122nd, coming up just too late, then delivered a similar attack,
and suffered a similar repulse. Both regiments were then rallied
half-way down the slope, and kept up from thence a scattering fire,
until Soult’s orders came to withdraw all the line, in consequence
of the defeat of Clausel’s divisions. This exactly tallies with the
narratives of the British officers of the 40th, who also speak of three
attacks, the first easily foiled-a mere rush of skirmishers--the second
very serious, and rendered almost fatal by the incomprehensible panic
of the Spaniards, who, after behaving very well both on the previous
day and during the first attack, suddenly broke and fled--‘all attempts
to rally them being ineffectual’--over the whole face of the hill
behind. The rout was only stopped by a desperate charge against the
front of the leading French battalion, which was successful contrary
to every expectation and probability. For the 40th, who had suffered
considerable loss in the combat of Linzoain two days before, had only
10 officers and 400 men in line, and were attacking a column of nearly
2,000 men. This column had been cast down hill, and the men of the 40th
had barely been re-formed--they showed a great wish to pursue and came
back reluctantly--when the third French attack, that of the 122nd, was
delivered with resolution and steadiness but without success. Even
then the fight was not over, for after an interval the enemy came up
the hill again, in disorder but with drums beating and eagles carried
to the front, the officers making incredible efforts to push the men
forward. They did not, however, get to the crest, but, after rolling up
to within twenty-five yards of it, stood still under the heavy musketry
fire, and then fell back, completely ‘fought out[952].’

Reille’s report declares that Gauthier’s brigade only lost ‘50 killed
and several hundred wounded’--say 350 in all--in this combat. The
British 40th had 129 casualties--the Spanish battalions on their flanks
192. If a brigade of five battalions and 3,300 bayonets allowed itself
to be stopped by a single battalion in the last phases of the combat,
after suffering a loss of only one man in nine, there must have been
something wrong with it, beside bad guidance. One would suspect that
Reille is understating casualties in the most reckless fashion.

While this fight was going on by the banks of the Arga, there was
another in progress on the other flank of the hill of Oricain, on the
banks of the Ulzama. The 6th Division had been intermittently engaged
with Conroux’s troops during the whole time of the French assaults on
the heights. When it was seen that Clausel’s men were ‘fought out’
and falling back, Pack made an effort to utilize the moment of the
French _débâcle_ by capturing Sorauren. He brought up his divisional
guns (Brandreth’s battery) to a position close to the village, and
sent forward the light companies of the two British brigades to press
in upon its south side, while Madden’s Portuguese, on the other bank
of the river, tried to get into it from the rear on the north side.
The attack failed, indeed was never pushed home, Sorauren being too
strongly held. The guns had to be drawn back, many horses and some
gunners having been shot down. Pack himself was severely wounded in the
head, and Madden’s brigade lost 300 men. Wellington sent down from the
hill to order the attack to cease, for even if Sorauren had been taken,
the rest of his front-line troops were in no condition to improve the
advantage[953].

While this was going on upon the extreme left, an almost bloodless
demonstration was in progress on the extreme right, where Foy, as on
the previous day, had been ordered to keep Picton employed. He showed
his infantry in front of Alzuza, and pushed forward the considerable
body of light cavalry which had been lent him to his left flank by
Elcano, till their skirmishers had got into collision with those of
the British Hussar Brigade, along the river Egues. There was much
_tiraillade_ but few casualties on either side; the 10th Hussars were
driven across the river, but were replaced by the 18th, who kept
the French in check for the rest of the day. Pierre Soult showed
no intention of closing, and Stapleton Cotton had been warned by
Wellington that his four brigades were intended for flank-protection
not for taking the offensive. The afternoon, therefore, passed away in
noisy but almost harmless bickering between lines of vedettes. Foy in
his report expressed himself contented with having kept a larger force
than his own occupied all day.

Thus ended this second Bussaco, a repetition in its main lines of
the first, and a justification of the central theory of Wellington’s
tactical system. Once more the line, in a well-chosen position, and
with proper precautions taken, had proved itself able to defeat the
column. The French made a most gallant attempt to storm a position
held by much inferior numbers, but extremely strong. They were beaten
partly--as all the critics insisted--by the fact that men who have just
scaled a hill of 1,000 feet are inevitably exhausted at the moment when
they reach its crest, but much more by the superiority of fire of the
line over the column when matters came to the musketry duel. The French
generals had learnt one thing at least from previous experience--they
tried to sheathe and screen the column by exceptionally heavy
skirmishing lines, but even so they could not achieve their purpose.
The only risk in Wellington’s game was that the enemy’s numbers might
be too overwhelming--if, for example, the 6th Division had not been up
in time on July 28th, and Clausel had been able to put in Conroux’s
division (7,000 extra bayonets) along with the rest, operating against
Ross’s extreme flank, it is not certain that the heights of Oricain
could have been held. But Wellington only offered battle, as he did,
because he was relying on the arrival of the 6th Division. If he had
known on the night of the 27th that it could not possibly come up in
time, he would probably have accepted the unsatisfactory alternative
policy of which he speaks in several dispatches, that of raising the
siege of Pampeluna and falling back on Yrurzun. ‘I hope we should in
any case have beaten the French at last, but it must have been further
back certainly, and probably on the Tolosa road[954].’

Soult is said to have felt from the 26th onward--his original project
of a surprise followed by a very rapid advance having failed--‘_une
véritable conviction de non-réussite_[955].’ We could well understand
this if he really believed--as he wrote to Clarke on the evening after
the battle--that Wellington had 50,000 men already in line. But this
was an _ex post facto_ statement, intended to explain his defeat to the
Minister; and we may be justified in thinking that if he had really
estimated the hostile army at any such a figure, he would never have
attacked. His long delay in bringing on the action may be explained by
the fact that Reille’s divisions were not on the field before evening
on the 27th, and that on the 28th it took many hours to rearrange the
troops on a terrain destitute of any roads, rather than by a fear of
a defeat by superior numbers. It might have been supposed on the 27th
that he was waiting for the possible arrival of D’Erlon, but on the
morning of the 28th he had heard overnight from his lieutenant, and
knew that he could not reach the battle-front on that day. In his
self-exculpatory dispatch to Clarke, Soult complains that D’Erlon told
him that he was blocked by British divisions at Irurita, ‘but I have no
doubt that these are the same troops which fell upon General Clausel’s
flank this afternoon[956].’ In this he was wrong--D’Erlon was speaking
of Hill’s and Dalhousie’s divisions, while it was Pack (whom D’Erlon
had never seen) that rendered a French success at Sorauren impossible.

The loss of the Allied Army was 2,652--of whom 1,358 were British,
1,102 Portuguese, and 192 Spaniards. The heaviest casualties fell on
the 3/27th in Anson’s brigade, who first repulsed Maucune, and then
swept away Vandermaesen, and the 1/7th in Ross’s brigade, the regiment
whose flank was exposed by the breaking of the 10th Portuguese--which
corps also, as was natural, was very hard hit. But all the front-line
battalions, both British and Portuguese, had considerable losses.
Soult (as at Albuera) made a most mendacious understatement of his
casualties, putting them at 1,800 only. As Clausel alone had reported
about 2,000, Maucune about 700, and Lamartinière at least 350, it
is certain that the Marshal’s total loss was over 3,000--how much
over it is impossible to say, since the only accessible regimental
casualty-lists include all men killed, wounded, or missing between July
25th and August 2nd. But the chances are that 4,000 would have been
nearer the mark than 3,000[957].

SECTION XXXVIII: CHAPTER V

SOULT’S RETREAT, JULY 30-31. THE SECOND BATTLE OF SORAUREN

While the battle of July 28th was being fought, the outlying divisions
of both Soult’s and Wellington’s armies were at last beginning to draw
in towards the main bodies.

Hill, as we have already seen, had received the orders written by
Wellington on Sorauren bridge at 11 a.m. by the afternoon of the same
day, and had started off at once with his whole force--the three
2nd Division brigades, Silveira’s one brigade, and Barnes’s three
battalions of the 7th Division. His directions were to endeavour
to cross the Puerto de Velate that night, so as to sleep at Lanz,
the first village on the south side of the pass. He was to leave a
detachment at the head of the defile, to check D’Erlon’s probable
movement of pursuit. The supplementary order, issued at 4 p.m. from
the heights of Oricain, directed Hill to march from the place where
his corps should encamp on the night of the 27th (Lanz as was hoped)
to Lizaso, abandoning the high road for the side road Olague-Lizaso,
since the former was known to be cut by the French at Sorauren. If the
men were not over-fatigued when they reached Lizaso, Hill must try to
bring them on farther, to Ollocarizqueta on the flank of the Sorauren
position, where the 6th Division would have preceded them.

Similarly Dalhousie with the 7th Division (minus the three battalions
with Hill) was to march that same evening from Santesteban over
the Puerto de Arraiz on to Lizaso, to sleep there and to march on
Ollocarizqueta, like Hill, on the morning of the 28th, if the state
of the troops allowed it. All the baggage, sick, stores, and other
impedimenta from the Bastan were also directed on Lizaso, but they were
to go through it westward and turn off to Yrurzun, not to follow the
fighting force to Ollocarizqueta.

None of these directions worked out as was desired, the main
hindering cause being the fearful thunderstorm already recorded,
which raged during the twilight hours of the evening of the 27th.
Hill had started from Irurita, as directed, keeping as a rearguard
Ashworth’s Portuguese, who were intended to hold the Puerto de Velate
when the rest of the column should have crossed it. He was nearing
the watershed, in the roughest part of the road, where it has many
precipitous slopes on the left hand, when the storm came down,
completely blotting out the evening light with a deluge of rain, and
almost sweeping men off their feet. One of Barnes’s officers describes
the scene as follows: ‘So entangled were we among carts, horses,
vicious kicking mules, baggage, and broken-down artillery, which
lined the road, that we could not extricate ourselves. Some lighted
sticks and candles only added to the confusion, for we were not able
to see one yard beyond the lights, owing to the thick haze, which
seemed to render darkness still more dark. In this bewildered state
many who could not stand were obliged from fatigue to sit down in the
mire: to attempt going on was impossible, except by climbing over the
different vehicles that blocked the road. In this miserable plight, I
seated myself against a tree, when weariness caused me, even amidst
this bustle, mud, and riot, to fall fast asleep[958].’ All sorts of
disasters happened: one of Tulloh’s 9-pounders went over the precipice
with the shaft animals drawn down with it, when the side of the roadway
crumbled in[959]. Ross’s battery lost another gun in a similar way,
owing to the sudden breaking of a wheel, and many carts and mules
blundered over the edge. The only thing that could be done was to stick
to the track, sit down, and wait for daylight, which was fortunately
early in July.

When it came, the drenched and miserable column picked itself up from
the mire, and straggled down the defile of the Velate, passing Lanz and
turning off at Olague towards Lizaso, as ordered. Troops and baggage
were coming in all day to this small and overcrowded mountain village,
in very sorry plight. It was of course quite impossible for them to
move a mile farther on the 28th, and Hill had to write to Wellington
that he could only hope to move his four brigades on the early morning
of the 29th.[960]

Lord Dalhousie had fared, as it seems, a little better in crossing
the Puerto de Arraiz; he had a less distance to cover, but the
dispatch from Sorauren bridge only reached him at 7 p.m. when the
rain was beginning. With laudable perseverance he kept marching all
night, and reached Lizaso at 12 noon on the 28th, with all his men,
except a battalion of Caçadores left behind to watch the pass. The
condition of the division was so far better than that of Hill’s
column, that Dalhousie wrote to Wellington that he could march again
in the late afternoon, after six hours’ rest, and would be at or
near Ollocarizqueta by dawn on the 29th[961], though two successive
night marches would have made the men very weary. This the division
accomplished, much to its credit, and reached the appointed destination
complete, for Hill had returned to it the three battalions which had
saved the day at Maya on the 25th.

Lizaso on the afternoon of July 28th was a dismal sight, crammed with
the drenched and worn-out men of seven brigades, who had just finished
a terrible night march, with large parties of the Maya wounded, much
baggage and transport with terrified muleteers in charge, and a horde
of the peasants of the Bastan, who had loaded their more precious
possessions on ox-wagons, and started off to escape the French. It took
hours to sort out the impedimenta and start them on the Yrurzun road.
There was a general feeling of disaster in the air, mainly owing to
physical exhaustion, which even the report of the victory of Sorauren
arriving in the evening could not exorcise. Rumours were afloat that
Wellington was about to retire again, despite of the successes of the
afternoon. However, the day being fine, the men were able to cook and
to dry themselves, and the 7th Division duly set out for another night
march.

It was fortunate that the retiring columns were not troubled by
any pursuit either on the 27th or the 28th. The storm which had so
maltreated Hill’s column seems to have kept the French from discovering
its departure. Darmagnac had moved forward on the 27th from Elizondo
to ground facing Hill’s position at Irurita, but had not attempted
to attack it, D’Erlon having decided that it was ‘_très forte par
elle-même, et inattaquable, étant gardée par autant de troupes_.’ So
badly was touch kept owing to the rainy evening, that Hill got away
unobserved, and it was only on the following morning that Darmagnac
reported that he had disappeared. This news at last inspired D’Erlon
with a desire to push forward, and on the morning of the 28th Abbé
took over the vanguard, passed Almandoz, and crossed the Velate, with
Darmagnac following in his rear, while Maransin--kept back so long at
Maya--came down in the wake of the other divisions to Elizondo. The
head of Abbé’s division passed the Puerto de Velate, pushing before it
Ashworth’s Portuguese, who had been left as a detaining force. Abbé
reported that the pass was full of wrecked baggage, and that he had
seen guns shattered at the foot of precipices. D’Erlon says that 400
British stragglers were gleaned by the way--no doubt Maya wounded and
footsore men. On the night of the 28th Abbé and Darmagnac bivouacked
at and about Lanz, Maransin somewhere by Irurita. He left behind one
battalion at Elizondo[962], to pick up and escort the convoy of food
expected from Urdax and Ainhoue.

The light cavalry[963] who accompanied Abbé duly reported that Hill had
not followed the great road farther than Olague, but had turned off
along the valley of the upper Ulzama to Lizaso; his fires were noted at
evening all along the edge of the woods near that village. One patrol
of chasseurs, pushing down the main road to Ostiz, sighted a similar
exploring party of Ismert’s dragoons coming from Sorauren, but could
not get in touch with them, as the dragoons took them for enemies and
decamped. However, the two bodies of French cavalry met again and
recognized each other at dawn on the 29th, so that free communication
between the two parts of Soult’s army was now established.

D’Erlon has been blamed by every critic for his slow advance between
the 26th and the 29th. He was quite aware that it was slow, and frankly
stated in his reports that he did not attack Hill because he could not
have turned him out of the position of Irurita, not having a sufficient
superiority of numbers to cancel Hill’s advantage of position. This
is quite an arguable thesis--D’Erlon had, deducting Maya losses, some
18,000 men: Hill counting in Dalhousie who had been placed on his
flank by Wellington for the purpose of helping him if he were pressed,
had (also deducting Maya losses) four British and three Portuguese
brigades, with a strength of about 14,000. If Cameron’s and Pringle’s
regiments had been terribly cut up at Maya, Darmagnac’s and Maransin’s
had suffered a perceptibly larger loss, though one distributed over
more units. D’Erlon was under the impression that Hill had three
divisions with him, having received false information to that effect.
If this had been true, an assault on the position of Irurita would
have been very reckless policy. It was _not_ true--only two divisions
and one extra Portuguese brigade being in line. Yet still the event
of the combat of Beunza, only three days later, when D’Erlon’s three
divisions attacked Hill’s own four brigades--no other allied troops
being present--and were held in check for the better part of a day,
suggests that D’Erlon may have had good justification for not taking
the offensive on the 26th or 27th, while the 7th Division was at Hill’s
disposition. The most odd part of his tactics seems to have been the
way in which he kept Maransin back at Maya and Elizondo so long: this
was apparently the result of fear that Graham might have something to
say in the contest--an unjustifiable fear as we know now, but D’Erlon
cannot have been so certain as we are! The one criticism on the French
general’s conduct which does seem to admit of no adequate reply, is
that in his original orders from Soult, which laid down the scheme of
the whole campaign, he was certainly directed to get into touch with
the main army as soon as possible, though he was also directed to
seize the pass of Maya and to pursue Hill by Elizondo and the Puerto
de Velate. If he drew the conclusion on the 26th that he could not
hope to dislodge Hill from the Irurita position, it was probably his
duty to march eastward by the Col de Berderis or the Col d’Ispegui and
join the main body by the Alduides. It is more than doubtful whether,
considering the character of the country and the tracks, he could
have arrived in time for the battle of Sorauren on the 28th. And if
Hill had seen him disappear eastward, he could have marched to join
Wellington by a shorter and much better road, and could certainly have
been in touch with his chief before D’Erlon was in touch with Soult.
Nevertheless, it cannot be said that the French general obeyed the
order which told him that ‘_il ne perdra pas de vue qu’il doit chercher
à se réunir le plutôt possible au reste de l’armée_[964].’ And orders
ought to be obeyed--however difficult they may appear.

At dawn on the 29th, therefore, Soult’s troops were in their position
of the preceding day, and D’Erlon’s leading division was at Lanz,
requiring only a short march to join the main body. But Wellington
was in a better position, since he had already been joined by the 6th
Division, and would be joined in a few hours by the 7th Division,
which, marching all night, had reached Ollocarizqueta. Hill, with his
four original brigades, was at Lizaso, as near to Wellington as D’Erlon
was to Soult. The only other troops which could have been drawn in, if
Wellington had so originally intended, were the brigades of the Light
Division, for which (as we shall see) he made another disposition.
But omitting this unit, and supposing that the other troops on both
sides simply marched in to join their main bodies on the 29th, it was
clear that by night Wellington would have a numerical equality with
his adversary, and this would make any further attempts to relieve
Pampeluna impossible on the part of Soult.

This was the Marshal’s conviction, and he even overrated the odds set
against him, if (as he said in his dispatch to Clarke) he estimated
his adversary’s force on the evening of the 28th at 50,000 men, and
thought that several other divisions would join him ere long. In face
of such conditions, what was to be the next move? Obviously a cautious
general would have decided that his bolt had been shot, and that he
had failed. He had a safe retreat before him to Roncesvalles, by a
road which would take all his cavalry and guns; and D’Erlon had an
equally secure retreat either by Elizondo and Maya on a good road, or
by the Alduides, if absolute security were preferred to convenience in
marching. The country was such that strong rearguards could have held
off any pursuit. And this may have been the Marshal’s first intention,
for in his letter to Clarke, written on the evening after the battle,
before he had any knowledge of D’Erlon’s approach, he said that he was
sending back his artillery and dragoons on Roncesvalles, since it was
impossible to use them in Navarre, and that he was dispatching them to
the Bidassoa ‘where he could make better use of them in new operations,
which he was about to undertake’. He was intending to remain a short
time in his present position with the infantry, to see what the enemy
would do. No news had been received of D’Erlon since the 27th, when he
was still at Elizondo, declaring that he could not move because he was
blocked by a large hostile force--‘the same force, as I believe, which
fell on Clausel’s flank to-day.’ Further comment the Marshal evidently
judged superfluous[965]. The column of guns and baggage actually
marched off on the night of the 28th-29th.

But early on the morning of the 29th D’Erlon’s cavalry was met, and
the news arrived that he was at Lanz, and marching on Ostiz, where he
would arrive at midday, and would be only five miles from Sorauren.
This seems to have changed the Marshal’s outlook on the situation,
and by the afternoon he had sketched out a wholly different plan of
campaign, and one of the utmost hazard. As the critic quoted a few
pages back observed, he recovered his confidence when once he was
twenty-four hours away from a defeat, and his strategical conceptions
were sometimes risky in the extreme[966].

The new plan involved a complete change of direction. Hitherto Soult
had been aiming at Pampeluna, and D’Erlon was, so to speak, his
rearguard. Now he avowed another objective--the cutting of the road
between Pampeluna and Tolosa, with the purpose of throwing himself
between Wellington and Graham and forcing the latter to raise the
siege of St. Sebastian[967]. He had now, as he explained, attracted to
the extreme south nearly the whole of the Anglo-Portuguese divisions:
there was practically a gap between Wellington, with the troops about
to join him, and the comparatively small force left on the Bidassoa.
He would turn the British left, by using D’Erlon’s corps as his
vanguard and cutting in north of Lizaso, making for Hernani or Tolosa,
whichever might prove the more easy goal. He hoped that Villatte and
the reserves on the Bidassoa might already be at Hernani, for D’Erlon
had passed on to him an untrustworthy report that an offensive had
begun in that direction, as his original orders had directed. The
manœuvre would be so unexpected that he ought to gain a full day on
Wellington--D’Erlon was within striking distance of Hill, and should be
able to thrust him out of the way, before the accumulation of British
troops about Sorauren, Villaba, and Huerta could come up. There was
obviously one difficult point in the plan: D’Erlon could get at Hill
easily enough. But was it certain that the rest of the troops, now in
such very close touch with Wellington’s main body--separated from it on
one front of two miles by no more than a narrow ravine--would be able
to disentangle themselves without risk, and to follow D’Erlon up the
valley of the Ulzama? When armies are so near that either can bring on
a general action by advancing half a mile, it is not easy for one of
them to withdraw, without exposing at least its rearguard or covering
troops to the danger of annihilation.

Soult took this risk, whether underrating Wellington’s initiative, or
overrating the manœuvring power of his own officers and men. It was
a gross tactical error, and he was to pay dearly for it on the 30th.
In fact, having obliged his enemy with a second Bussaco on the 28th,
he presented him with the opportunity of a second Salamanca two days
after. For in its essence the widespread battle of the 30th, which
extended over ten miles from D’Erlon’s attack on Hill near Lizaso
to Wellington’s counter-attack on Reille near Sorauren, was, like
Salamanca, the sudden descent of an army in position upon an enemy who
has unwisely committed himself to a march right across its front.

Soult made the most elaborate plans for his manœuvre--D’Erlon was
to move from Ostiz and Lanz against Hill: he was lent the whole of
Treillard’s dragoons, to give him plenty of cavalry for reconnaissance
purposes; Clausel was to march Taupin’s and Vandermaesen’s troops
behind Conroux, who was to hold Sorauren village till they had passed
him. Conroux would then be relieved by Maucune’s division from the high
ground opposite the Col, and when it had taken over Sorauren from him,
would follow the rest of Clausel’s troops up the high road. Maucune’s
vacant position would be handed over to Foy and Lamartinière. The
former was to evacuate Alzuza and the left bank of the Arga, where he
was not needed, as the column of guns and baggage, with its escort of
cavalry, had got far enough away on the road to Zubiri and Roncesvalles
to be out of danger. He was then to go up on to the heights where
Maucune had been posted during the recent battle, as was also
Lamartinière. The latter was to leave one battalion, along with the
corps-cavalry (13th Chasseurs) of Reille’s wing, on the high road north
of Zabaldica, as an extra precaution to guard against any attempt by
the enemy to raid the retreating column of impedimenta[968].

Finally, some orders impossible to execute were dictated--viz. that
all these movements were to be carried out in the night, and that both
Clausel and Reille were to be careful that the British should get no
idea that any change in the position of the army was taking place;
one general is told that ‘_il opérera son mouvement de manière à ce
que l’ennemi ne puisse aucunement l’apercevoir_,’ the other that ‘_il
disposera ses troupes à manière que l’ennemi ne puisse soupçonner
qu’il y a de changement ni de diminution_.’ Reille was to hold the
line Sorauren-Zabaldica for the whole day of the 30th, and then to
follow Clausel with absolute secrecy and silence. Now, unfortunately,
one cannot move 35,000 men on pathless hillsides and among woods and
ravines in the dark, without many units losing their way, and much
noise being made. And when one is in touch with a watchful enemy at a
distance of half a mile only, one cannot prevent him from seeing and
hearing that changes are going on. The orders were impracticable.

Such were Soult’s plans for the 30th. Wellington’s counter-plans do
not, on the 29th, show any signs of an assumption of the offensive
as yet, though it was certainly in his mind. They are entirely
precautionary, all of them being intended to guard against the next
possible move of the opponent. The troops which had suffered severely
in the battle were drawn back into second line, Byng’s and Stubbs’s
brigades taking over the ground held by Ross and Campbell. The 6th
Division--now under Pakenham, Pack having been severely wounded on the
previous day--occupied the heights north-west of Sorauren, continuing
the line held on the 28th to the left. Both Cole and Pakenham were told
to get their guns up, if possible. And when Lord Dalhousie came up from
Lizaso after his night march, his division also was placed to prolong
the allied left--two brigades to the left-rear of the 6th Division,
hidden behind a high ridge, the third several miles westward over a
hill which commanded the by-road Ostiz-Marcalain--a possible route for
a French turning movement[969].

Originally Wellington had supposed that Hill would reach Lizaso earlier
than Dalhousie, and had intended that the 2nd Division should come
down towards Marcalain and Pampeluna, while the 7th remained at Lizaso
to protect the junction of roads. But the storm, which smote Hill
worse than it smote Dalhousie, had settled matters otherwise. It was
the latter, not the former, who turned up to join hands with the main
army. Accepting the change, Wellington directed Hill to select a good
fighting position by Lizaso, in which he should place the two English
brigades of the 2nd Division and Ashworth, while Da Costa’s Portuguese
were to move to Marcalain[970], close to the rear brigade which the 7th
Division had left in the neighbourhood. Thus something like a covering
line was provided for any move which D’Erlon might make against the
British left. Wellington was feeling very jealous that day of attempts
to turn this flank, and took one more precaution which (as matters were
to turn out) he was much to regret on the 31st. Orders were sent to
Charles Alten to move the Light Division from Zubieta towards the high
road that goes from Tolosa to Yrurzun via Lecumberri. In ignorance of
the division’s exact position, the dispatch directed Alten to come down
so far as might seem best--Yrurzun being named as the farthest point
which should be taken into consideration[971]. This caused Alten to
move, by a very toilsome night march, from Zubieta, where he would have
been very useful later on, to Lecumberri, where (as it chanced) he was
not needed. But this was a hazard of war--it was impossible to guess
on the 29th the unlikely place where Soult’s army was about to be on
the 31st. Another move of troops to the Yrurzun road was that Fane’s
cavalry brigade, newly arrived from the side of Aragon, was directed to
Berrioplano, behind Pampeluna on the Vittoria road, with orders to get
into touch with Lizaso, Yrurzun, and Lecumberri.

Obviously all these arrangements were defensive, and contemplated
three possible moves on the part of the enemy--(1) a renewal of the
battle of the 28th at and north of Sorauren, with which the 6th and
7th Divisions could deal; (2) an attempt to turn the allied flank on
the short circuit Ostiz-Marcalain; (3) a similar attempt by a larger
circuit via Lizaso, which would enable the enemy to get on to the roads
Lizaso-Yrurzun, and Lizaso-Lecumberri, and so cut the communication
between Wellington and Graham. The third was the correct reading of
Soult’s intentions. To foil it Hill was in position at Lizaso, with the
power to call in first Da Costa, then the 7th Division, and much later
the Light Division, whose whereabouts was uncertain, and whose arrival
must obviously come very late. But if the enemy should attack Hill with
anything more than the body of troops which had been seen at Ostiz and
Lanz (D’Erlon’s corps), Wellington intended to fall upon their main
corps, so soon as it began to show signs of detaching reinforcements to
join the turning or enveloping column.

Soult’s manœuvre had duly begun on the night of the 28th-29th by the
retreat of the artillery, the wounded, the train and heavy baggage
towards Roncesvalles, under the escort of the dragoon regiments of
Pierre Soult’s division, whose chasseur regiments, however, remained
with Reille as ‘corps cavalry’. On the news of this move going round,
a general impression prevailed that the whole army was about to retire
by the road on which it had come up. This seemed all the more likely
because the last of the rations brought from St. Jean-Pied-du-Port
had been distributed on the battle-morning, and the troops had been
told on the 29th to make raids for food on all the mountain villages
on their flanks and rear. They had found little save wine--which was
more a snare than a help. The perspicacious Foy noted in his diary his
impression that Soult’s new move was not made with any real hope of
relieving St. Sebastian or cutting the Allies’ communication, it was
in essence a retreat; but, to save his face, the Marshal was trying
to give it the appearance of a strategic manœuvre[972]. This was a
very legitimate deduction--it certainly seemed unlikely that an army
short of food, and almost equally short of munitions, could be asked
to conduct a long campaign in a region where it was notorious that it
could not hope to live by requisitions, and would find communication
with its base almost impossible. It was true that convoys were coming
up behind D’Erlon--one was due at Elizondo--but roads were bad and
appointments hard to keep. There were orders sent to Bayonne on the
28th for the start of another--but how many days would it take before
the army got the benefit?--a week at least. Men and officers marched
off on the new adventure grumbling and with stomachs ill-filled.

The result of Soult’s orders was to produce two separate actions on the
30th--one between D’Erlon and Hill behind Lizaso, in which the French
gained a tactical advantage of no great importance, the other on the
heights along the Ulzama between Wellington’s main body and Clausel and
Reille, in which the French rear divisions were so routed and dispersed
that Soult had to throw up all his ambitious plans, and rush home for
safety as fast as was possible.

The more important action, generally called the Second Battle of
Sorauren, may be dealt with first.

At midnight Clausel’s two divisions on the heights, separated from
Cole’s position by the great ravine, moved off, leaving their fires
burning. By dawn they had safely arrived on the high road between
Sorauren and Ostiz, and were ready to move on towards D’Erlon when
the third division--Conroux’s--should have been relieved at Sorauren
village by Maucune. But this had not yet been accomplished, even by
five in the morning: for Maucune’s troops having woods and pathless
slopes to cross, in great part lost their way, and were straggling in
small bands over the hills during the night. They had only two miles
to go in many cases, yet when the light came some of them were still
far from their destination and in quite unexpected places. Conroux had
disentangled one brigade from Sorauren, while the other was still
holding the outposts, and Maucune was just beginning to file some of
his men behind the barricades and defences, when the whole of the
village received a salvo of shells, which brought death and confusion
everywhere. During the night Pakenham and Cole, obeying Wellington’s
orders, had succeeded in getting some guns up to the crest of the
heights--the 6th Division had hauled six guns up the hill on its left:
they were now mounted in front of Madden’s Portuguese, only 500 yards
from their mark[973]. Of the 4th Division battery[974] two guns and a
howitzer had been dragged with immense toil to the neighbourhood of the
chapel of San Salvador, overlooking Sorauren, the other three guns to
a point farther east, opposite the front from which Vandermaesen had
attacked on the 28th.

This was apparently the commencement of the action, but it soon started
on several other points. Foy had evacuated Alzuza at midnight, but
having rough country-paths in a steep hillside as his only guides in
the darkness, had not succeeded in massing his division at Iroz till 5
a.m. He then mounted the heights in his immediate front, pushing before
him (as he says) fractions of Maucune’s division which had lost their
way. His long column had got as far as the Col and the ground west
of it, when--full daylight now prevailing--he began to be shelled by
guns from the opposite heights--obviously the other half of Sympher’s
battery[975].

Meanwhile Lamartinière’s division (minus the one battalion of the
122nd left to watch the Roncesvalles road) had moved very little in
the night, having only drawn itself up from Zabaldica to the heights
immediately to the left of the Col, where it lay in two lines of
brigades, the front one facing the Spaniards’ Hill, the rear one
a few hundred yards back. Foy, coming from Iroz, had marched past
Lamartinière’s rear, covered by him till he got west of the Col. This
division was not shelled, as Conroux, Maucune, and Foy had all been,
but noted with disquiet that British troops were streaming up from
Huarte on the Roncesvalles road, with the obvious intention of turning
its left, and getting possession of the main route to France.

Wellington, as it chanced, was in the most perfect condition to take
advantage of the mistake which Soult had made in planning to withdraw
his troops by a march right across the front of the allied army in
position. The night-movements of the French had been heard, and under
the idea that they might portend a new attack, all the divisions
had been put under arms an hour before dawn. The guns, too, were in
position, only waiting for their mark to become visible--it had been
intended to shell the French out of Sorauren in any case that morning.
Wellington had risen early as usual, and was on the look-out place on
the Oricain heights which he used as his post on the 28th and 29th.
When the panorama on the opposite mountain became visible to him, he
had only to send orders for a general frontal attack, for which the
troops were perfectly placed.

Accordingly, the 6th Division attacked Sorauren village at once, while
the troops on the Oricain heights descended, a little later, in two
lines--the front one formed of Byng’s brigade, Stubbs’s Portuguese,
and the 40th and Provisional Battalion of Anson’s--while Ross’s
brigade and Anson’s two other battalions (the troops which had taken
the worst knocks on the 28th) formed the reserve line. Preceded by
their skirmishers, Byng’s battalions made for Sorauren, Cole’s marched
straight for Foy’s troops on the opposite hills[976]. Farther to the
right Picton had discovered already that there was no longer any French
force opposite him, and had got his division assembled for an advance
along the Roncesvalles road. He would seem to have been inclined to
go a little farther than Wellington thought prudent, as there was a
dispatch sent to him at 8 a.m. bidding him to advance no farther, until
it was certain that all was clear on the left, though he might push
forward light troops on the heights east of the Arga river. He did
not therefore get into touch with Lamartinière on the mountain above
Zabaldica for some time after Foy and Maucune had been attacked.

Meanwhile it was not only to the old fighting-ground of the 28th that
the attack was confined. Wellington ordered Lord Dalhousie to emerge
from the shelter of the hills beyond the left of the 6th Division, and
to assail the troops below him in the Ulzama valley--that is Taupin’s
and Vandermaesen’s divisions, halted by Clausel some way short of
Ostiz, when the sound of firing began near Sorauren.

The French units which were in the greatest danger were the three
divisions of Conroux, Maucune, and Foy, all suddenly caught under the
artillery fire of an enemy whom they had not believed to possess any
guns in line. Troops marching in column are very helpless when saluted
in this fashion. Foy writes ‘we had not been intending to fight, and
suddenly we found ourselves massed under the fire of the enemy’s
cannon. We were forced to go up the mountain side to get out of range;
we should have to retreat, and we already saw that we should be turned
on both flanks by the two valleys on our left and right.... General
Reille only sent part of my division up on to the high crests after
its masses had been well played upon by an enemy whose artillery fire
is most accurate[977].’ Now Foy could, after all, get out of range by
going up hill--but Maucune and Conroux were in and about a village
which it was their duty to hold, since they had to cover the retreat of
Foy and Lamartinière across their rear. If Sorauren were lost, Reille’s
two left divisions would be driven away from the main army--perhaps
even cut off. Yet it was a hard business to hold a village under a
close-range artillery fire from commanding ground, which enfiladed it
on both sides, when the enemy’s infantry intervened. Pakenham sent
Madden’s Portuguese round the village on the north--where they drove
in one regiment[978] which Conroux had thrown out as a flank guard on
the west bank of the Ulzama, and then proceeded to push round the rear
of the place. At the same time the left wing of the troops which had
descended from the chapel of San Salvador (Byng’s brigade) began to
envelop Sorauren on the eastern flank. And frontally it was attacked by
the light companies of Lambert’s brigade of the 6th Division.

Conroux’s first brigade (Rey’s) had succeeded in getting away to the
north of the village before it was completely surrounded, and, after
bickerings with Madden’s Portuguese and other 6th Division troops,
finally straggled across the hills to Ostiz. His other brigade,
however, and all Maucune’s division were very nearly exterminated.
They made an obstinate defence of Sorauren for nearly two hours, till
the place was entirely encompassed: Maucune says that he cleared a way
for the more compromised units by a charge which retook part of the
village, and then led the whole mass up the hill. The bulk of them
scraped through, but were intercepted by 4th Division troops in the
hollow hillside above. One whole battalion was forced to surrender,
and great part of two others; there were 1,700 unwounded prisoners
taken, of whom 1,100 belonged to Maucune and 600 to Conroux’s rear
brigade[979].

Maucune’s division was practically destroyed: having reported 600
casualties on the 28th, he reported 1,800 more on the 30th, and as his
total strength was only 4,186, it is clear that only 1,700 men got
away. The general and the survivors rallied in to Foy on the heights
above, along with the wrecks of Conroux’s second brigade, which lost
1,000 men: the first brigade, though less hard hit, seems to have had
500 or 600 casualties, and many stragglers. Altogether both divisions
were no longer a real fighting force during the rest of the campaign.

Meanwhile, there had been a distinct and separate combat going on
farther up the Ulzama valley. When the fighting in and about Sorauren
began, Clausel had halted Vandermaesen’s and Taupin’s division at a
defile near the village of Olabe, knowing that if he continued on his
way towards Ostiz and Olague Reille’s wing would be completely cut off
from him. Having seen suspicious movements in the hills on his left, he
sent up two battalions from Vandermaesen’s division to hold the heights
immediately beyond the river and cover his flank. The precaution
was wise but insufficient: somewhere about 8.30 a.m. the British 7th
Division, having received its orders to join in the general attack,
came up from its concealed position in the rear, and fell upon the
covering troops, who were driven off their steep position by Inglis’s
brigade, and thrown down on to the main body of Clausel’s troops in the
valley. There was close and bloody fighting in the bottom, ‘a small
level covered with small bushes of underwood,’ but after a time the
French gave way. Vandermaesen’s men soon got locked in a stationary
fight with Inglis’s battalions, but the two other 7th Division brigades
(Le Cor and Barnes) which had not descended to the river and the road,
were plying Taupin’s column with a steady fire from the slope of the
opposite bank, which made standing still impossible[980]. Having to
choose between attacking or retreating, Clausel opted for the easier
alternative, and drew off. In his report to Soult he gives as his
reason the fact that Sorauren had now been lost, that Reille’s troops
were streaming over the hills in disorder, and that it was no use
waiting any longer to cover their retreat, which was not going to
be by the road, but broadcast across the mountains. Accordingly he
disengaged himself as best he could, and retreated up the _chaussée_
followed by the 7th Division, which naturally took some time to get
into order. Inglis’s brigade followed by the road, presently supported
by Byng’s troops, who came up from the side of Sorauren at noon: the
other two brigades kept to the slopes on the west of the river, turning
each position which Clausel took up[981]. By one o’clock he was back
to Etulain, by dusk at Olague, where he was joined by Conroux and the
3,000 men who represented the wreck of his division. Vandermaesen
had been much mauled--and had left behind 300 prisoners, while many
stragglers from his division, and more from both of the brigades of
Conroux, were loose in the hills. It is doubtful whether Clausel had
more than 8,000 men out of his original 17,000 in hand that evening.
The survivors were not fit for further fighting[982].

Meanwhile, Reille was undergoing equally unpleasant experiences. He
had stopped behind to conduct the retreat of Foy’s and Lamartinière’s
divisions, when the unexpected cannonade, followed by the advance of
the British infantry, showed that he was not to get away without hard
fighting. When Pakenham attacked Sorauren, and Cole a little later
crossed the ravine to assail Foy’s position, Reille tried for some
time to maintain himself on the heights, but soon saw that it was
impossible. He sent Maucune permission to evacuate Sorauren--of which
the latter could not avail himself, for he was pressed on all sides
and no longer a free agent. And having thus endeavoured to divest
himself of responsibility for the fate of his right division, he gave
orders for the retreat of the two others not by any regular route, but
straight across country, up hill and down dale. The reason for haste
was not only that Cole was now pressing hard upon Foy’s new position,
but that Picton was visible marching hard for Zabaldica, with the
obvious intention of turning Lamartinière’s flank. There was an ominous
want of any frontal attack on this division--it was clear that Picton
intended to encircle it, while Foy on the other flank was being driven
in by Cole, and there was a chance of the whole wing being surrounded.
Accordingly, at about 10 o’clock by Lamartinière’s reckoning, he began
to give way in échelon of brigades, much hindered after a time by
Picton’s light troops, who had now swerved up into the hills after
him, and pestered each battalion when it turned to retreat[983]. Foy
reports that his rear brigade and part of his colleague’s division were
at one moment nearly cut off, and that he ran some danger of being
taken prisoner. It evidently became a helter-skelter business to get
away, and the French can have made no serious resistance, as Picton’s
three brigades that day had only just 110 casualties between them[984].
The retreat was made more disorderly by the arrival of a drove of some
4,000 fugitives of Conroux’s and Maucune’s divisions, accompanied
by the latter general himself, who had escaped over the hills from
Sorauren, and ran in for shelter on Foy’s rear.

At about one o’clock Reille’s divisions, having outdistanced their
pursuers by their rapidity, halted in considerable disarray in a valley
by the village of Esain[985], where Reille tried to restore order,
and to settle a practicable itinerary, with the object of rejoining
Clausel. For reasons which he does not specify, he marched himself by
a road down the valley, which would lead him to Olague, but told Foy
to take a parallel track farther up the slope which should take him
to Lanz, higher in the same valley. The partition was obviously made
in a very haphazard fashion, for while the bulk of Lamartinière’s
division, and the poor remnant of Maucune’s which preserved any order,
accompanied the corps-commander, Foy found that he was being followed
by two stray battalions of Gauthier’s brigade of Lamartinière, and by
a great mass of stragglers, largely Conroux’s men, but partly also
Maucune’s and Lamartinière’s.

Reille got to Olague at dusk and joined Clausel, but brought with
him a mere wreck of his corps, probably not 6,000 men. For Foy never
appeared--and never was to appear again during the campaign. He
explained, not in the most satisfactory way, that part of his track
lay through woods, where the sense of direction is lost, that he
was worried by the reappearance of British light troops, who had
to be driven off repeatedly, and that the stragglers smothered his
marching columns and led them astray. Anyhow, he found himself at
dusk at Iragui in the upper valley of the Arga, instead of at Lanz
in the upper valley of the Ulzama--having marched ten miles instead
of the five that would have taken him from Esain to Lanz. Picton’s
light troops were still in touch with him, and he resolved that it
was hopeless to try to struggle over mountains in the dark. Dropping
into the pass that leads from Zubiri to the Alduides (the Puerto de
Urtiaga), he marched for some hours more, bivouacked, and next morning
descended into French territory[986]. He sent off the stragglers
to St. Jean-Pied-de-Port--they sacked all the mountain villages on
their way[987]--and took his own division at leisure down the Val de
Baigorry to Cambo--having lost only 550 men out of his 6,000 in the
whole campaign. Some critics whispered that, seeing disaster behind
him, _il a su trop bien tirer son épingle du jeu_, and had saved his
division, regardless of what might happen to colleagues--just as on
the eve of Vittoria he had refused to join Jourdan, and had managed a
safe retreat for himself. That it was not absolutely impossible to get
away to the Bastan was shown by the fact that the two stray battalions
of Lamartinière’s division which had followed Foy in error, branched
off from him at Iragui and got to Almandoz, Elizondo, and the pass of
Maya. Another lost party--the battalion and cavalry regiment which
Lamartinière had left to cover the Roncesvalles road[988]--turned
off at Zubiri and followed Foy’s route by the Alduides and Baigorry.
Reille’s ‘main body’ was a poor remnant by the night of the 30th, after
all these deductions had come to pass.

It must not be supposed that the operations of Pakenham, Dalhousie,
Cole, and Picton during the morning of the 30th were left to the
personal initiative of these officers. Wellington’s orders for the
first move had been made on the spur of the moment, as the position of
the French became visible at dawn. But after the capture of Sorauren,
probably between 9 and 10 a.m., he issued a definite programme for the
remainder of the day’s operations.

Picton was to pursue the enemy who had gone off north-eastward
(Lamartinière) toward the Roncesvalles road. He was given two squadrons
of hussars, and told to take his divisional battery with him.

Cole was to act on the _massif_ between the Arga and the Ulzama,
keeping touch with Picton on one flank and Pakenham on the other: if
the enemy in his front (Foy and the wrecks of Maucune) made a strong
stand, he was not to lose men by violent frontal attacks, but to wait
for the effect of Picton’s turning movement, ‘which will alarm the
enemy for his flank.’

Up the main road Ostiz-Olague there were to march Byng’s brigade, the
6th Division, and O’Donnell’s troops from the San Cristobal position
(some six battalions). The 6th Division was to take its divisional
battery with it.

Dalhousie should operate on the east bank of the Ulzama, keeping touch
with Byng and Pakenham--he would be in a position to turn all positions
which the French (Taupin and Vandermaesen) might take up, if they tried
to hold back the main column on the high road. Like Cole, he was not to
attempt anything costly or hazardous.

Finally, and here later news caused a complete alteration of the
programme, Hill was to ‘point a movement’ from Lizaso on Olague and
Lanz, if the situation of the enemy made it possible. Attacked himself
by the superior numbers of D’Erlon’s corps, Hill was (of course) unable
to do anything of the kind. Wellington seems to have suspected that he
might be too weak for his task, and in the general rearrangement of the
army sent him not only Campbell’s Portuguese brigade (which properly
belonged to the division of Silveira, who was in person with Hill but
only with one brigade, Da Costa’s), but also the Spanish battalions
which O’Donnell had detached to Ollocarizqueta on the 27th[989], and
finally Morillo’s division. These 7,000 men were started from their
positions before noon, but did not arrive in time to help Hill[990].
A separate supplementary order went off to Charles Alten to tell him
that the Light Division would not be wanted at Lecumberri, and should
return to Zubieta.

The whole of this series of orders is purely offensive in character,
and, as is easily seen, presupposes first, that a large section of the
French army is retiring on the Roncesvalles road, but secondly that the
main body is about to go back by Lanz, the Col de Velate, Elizondo, and
Maya. Hence the heaviness of the column directed on the _chaussée_: if
Wellington had dreamed that Soult was intending to send nothing back by
the Roncesvalles road, and had started a vigorous attack on Hill that
morning, the orders given would have been different.

Meanwhile, during the hours which saw the destruction of Clausel’s and
Reille’s divisions, Soult himself was urging on D’Erlon’s corps to
overwhelm Hill, and hoping for the early arrival of Clausel’s to lend
assistance. Reille he had left behind as a containing force, and did
not expect to see for another twenty-four hours. Soult informs us that
he left Zabaldica and the left wing so early that he had no reason to
expect the trouble which was about to break out behind him. He noticed
Maucune’s division beginning to file into Sorauren, and passed Clausel
in march on Ostiz, before the British guns opened, i.e. before 6
o’clock in the morning. But they must have been sounding up the valley
before he reached D’Erlon on the heights by Etulain: he resolved to
pay no attention to the ominous noise, being entirely absorbed in the
operation which he had in hand.

D’Erlon was already in movement, by the valley of the Ulzama, and had
just been joined by the cavalry, which had come up from the Arga valley
by cross roads in the rear[991]. It was, of course, no use to him in
the sort of engagement on which he was launched. The Marshal instructed
him to push on and hurry matters, as there were reports from deserters
that three hostile divisions were on their way to reinforce the British
force at Lizaso. Accordingly D’Erlon, having discovered his enemy’s
position with some little difficulty, for it lay all along the edge of
woods, delivered his attack as soon as his troops were up. Hill, on
news of the French advance reaching him, had evacuated Lizaso, which
lies in a hole, and had drawn up his four brigades along a wooded ridge
half a mile to the south, with the village of Gorron in front of his
left wing, and that of Arostegui behind his right wing. The Portuguese
brigade of Ashworth formed his centre: on the right was one regiment of
Da Costa’s brigade which had been called up from the Marcalain road,
on the left the other and the remains of Cameron’s brigade, which had
suffered so heavily at Maya: Fitzgerald of the 5/60th was in command,
the brigadier having been wounded on the 25th. Pringle’s brigade (under
O’Callaghan that day, for Pringle was acting as division-commander vice
William Stewart wounded at Maya) was in reserve--apparently distributed
by battalions along the rear of the line. The edge of the woods was
lined with a heavy skirmishing line of light companies, and the Caçador
battalion of Ashworth’s brigade. Altogether there were under 9,000 men
in line.

D’Erlon determined to demonstrate against Hill’s front with Darmagnac’s
division, who were to hold the Portuguese closely engaged, but not to
attack seriously. Meanwhile Abbé was to assail the Allied left, and
also to turn it by climbing the high hills beyond its extreme flank, in
the direction of the village of Beunza. He had ample force to do this,
having the strongest division in Soult’s army--8,000 bayonets--and the
only one which had not yet been seriously engaged during the campaign.
Maransin followed Abbé in support. The arrangements being scientific,
and the force put in action more than double Hill’s, success seemed
certain.

It was secured; but not so easily as D’Erlon had hoped. Darmagnac, so
Soult says, engaged himself much more deeply than had been intended.
Finding only Portuguese in his front, he made a fierce attempt to break
through, and was handsomely repulsed. Meanwhile Abbé, groping among
the wooded slopes to find the flank of Fitzgerald’s brigade, missed it
at first, and attacking the 50th and 92nd frontally, saw his leading
battalions thrown back. But he put in more, farther out to the right,
and though the British brigade threw back its flank _en potence_, and
tried to hold on, it was completely turned, and would have been cut
off, but for a fierce charge by the 34th, who came up from the reserve
and held the enemy in check long enough for the rest to retire--with
the loss of only 36 prisoners (two of them officers). The retreat of
the left wing compelled the Portuguese in the centre to give back
also--they had to make their way across a valley and stream closely
pursued, but behaved most steadily, and lost less than might have been
expected--though some 130 were cut off and captured. The right wing
pivoted, in its withdrawal, on an isolated hill held by Da Costa’s 2nd
Line, which was gallantly maintained to the end of the day. The centre
and left lost more than a mile of ground, but were in good enough order
to take up a new position, selected by Hill on a height in front of
the village of Yguaras, where they repulsed with loss a final attack
made by one of Darmagnac’s regiments which pursued too fiercely[992].
D’Erlon was re-forming his troops, much scattered in the woods,
when at 4 p.m. there arrived from Marcalain the head of Campbell’s
Portuguese brigade, followed by Morillo’s and O’Donnell’s Spaniards.
Their approach was observed, and no further attacks were made by the
French. D’Erlon winds up his account of the day by observing, quite
correctly, that he had driven Hill out of his position, inflicted much
loss on him, and got possession of the road to Yrurzun. So he had--the
Allies had lost 156 British and about 900 Portuguese, of whom 170 were
prisoners. The French casualties must have been about 800 in all,
if we may make a rough calculation from the fact that they lost 39
officers--10 in Abbé’s division, 29 in Darmagnac’s[993].

But it is not to win results such as these that 18,000 men attack
8,000, and fight them for seven hours[994]. And what was the use of
such a tactical success, when meanwhile Soult’s main body had been
beaten and scattered to the winds, so that Reille and Clausel were
bringing up 14,000 demoralized soldiers, instead of 30,000 confident
ones, to join the victorious D’Erlon?

This unpleasant fact stared Soult in the face, when he rode back to
Olague to receive the reports of his two lieutenants. It was useless to
think of further attempts on the Tolosa road, or molestation of Graham.
D’Erlon’s three divisions were now his only intact force, capable of
engaging in an action with confidence: the rest were not only reduced
to a wreck in number, but were ‘spent troops’ from the point of view of
morale. The only thing to be done was to retreat as fast as possible,
using the one solid body of combatants to cover the retreat of the
rest. All that Soult afterwards wrote to Paris about his movements of
July 31 being the logical continuation of his design of July 30--‘de
me rapprocher de la frontière pour y prendre des subsistances, avec
l’espoir de joindre la réserve du Général Villatte[995],’ was of course
mere insincerity. He changed his whole plan, and fled in haste, merely
because he was forced to do so.

One strange resolve, however, he made on the evening of July 30. The
safest and shortest way home was by the Puerto de Velate, Elizondo, and
Maya; and Clausel’s and Reille’s troops at Olague and Lanz were well
placed for taking this route. This was not the case with D’Erlon’s men
at Lizaso and the newly won villages in front of it. Instead of bidding
the routed corps hurry straight on, and bringing D’Erlon down to cover
them, the Marshal directed Reille and Clausel to leave the great road,
to cut across by Olague to Lizaso, and to get behind D’Erlon, who would
hold on till they were past his rear. All would then take the route
of the Puerto de Arraiz and go by Santesteban. This was a much more
dangerous line of retreat; so much so that the choice excites surprise.
Soult told Clarke that his reason for taking the risk was that D’Erlon
had got so far west that there was no time to move him back to the
Velate road--which seems an unconvincing argument. For Clausel and
Reille had to transfer themselves to the Puerto de Arraiz road, which
would take just as much time; and D’Erlon could not retreat till they
had cleared his rear. The real explanation would seem to be that Soult
thought that the British column on the Velate road, being victorious,
would start sooner and pursue more vigorously than Hill’s troops, who
had just been defeated. If Reille and Clausel were pressed without
delay, their divisions would go to pieces: D’Erlon, on the other hand,
could be relied upon to stand his ground as long as was needful. If
this was Soult’s idea, his prescience was justified.

SECTION XXXVIII: CHAPTER VI

SOULT’S RETREAT, JULY 31-AUG. 3

When Soult’s orders of the evening of July 29th had been issued,
there was no longer any pretence kept up that the Army was executing
a voluntary strategical movement, _planmässig_ as the German of 1918
would have expressed the idea, and not absconding under pressure of the
enemy.

At 1 o’clock midnight Clausel’s and Reille’s harassed troops at Olague
and Lanz went off as fast as their tired legs would carry them, and
leaving countless stragglers behind. D’Erlon could not retire till the
morning, when he sent off Darmagnac and Maransin to follow the rest of
the army, retaining Abbé’s division as his rearguard, which held the
heights north of Lizaso for some time after their comrades had gone.

Wellington’s orders issued at nightfall[996] were such as suited Soult
fairly well, for the British general had not foreseen that which was
unlikely, and he had been deceived to some extent by the reports which
had come in. The deductions which he drew from what he had ascertained
were that a large body of the enemy had retreated eastward, and would
fall into the Roncesvalles road, but that the main force would follow
the Velate-Elizondo _chaussée_. That Soult would lead all that survived
to him of his army over the Puerto de Arraiz passes, to Santesteban,
had not struck him as a likely contingency. Hence his detailed
orders overnight were inappropriate to the facts which appeared next
morning. He directed Picton to pursue whatever was before him on the
Roncesvalles road--thinking that Foy and Lamartinière would escape in
that direction; but lest they should have gone off by Eugui and the Col
de Urtiaga he directed Pakenham to take the 6th Division from Olague,
when it should have reached that place, across the hills to Eugui, from
whence he could join Picton if necessary. Campbell’s Portuguese were
to turn off in the same direction and make for Eugui and the Alduides.
Unfortunately, Picton was thus set to pursue nothing, while Pakenham
was twelve hours behind Foy, and never likely to catch him.

The main pursuit was to be urged on the _chaussée_ leading by Olague
and Lanz to Elizondo, whither it was supposed that Soult would have
taken the bulk of his army. From Ostiz and the neighbourhood Byng and
Cole were to march in this direction, conducted by Wellington himself,
while from the other side Hill was to lead thither his own four
brigades, and the Spanish reinforcements which had reached him at the
end of the combat of Beunza.

Only Dalhousie and the 7th Division were directed to take the route of
the Puerto de Arraiz, and this not with the object of pursuing the main
French army, but rather as a flanking movement to favour the operation
allotted to Hill. And Dalhousie, unfortunately, was not well placed for
the march allotted to him, since he was near Ostiz, and had to get to
his destination by a cross march via Lizaso.

A separate note for Charles Alten, written at the same time as the rest
of the orders, but not sent out till the following morning, directed
the Light Division to march back to Zubieta where it would be able to
communicate with the column that went by the Puerto de Arraiz, i.e.
that of Dalhousie[997], and be well placed for flank operations against
the retreating enemy.

The net result of all this was to send over half the available
troops--Picton, Pakenham, Campbell, Byng, and Cole--on roads where
no enemy would be found. And Hill’s force would have suffered the
same fate, if it had not been in such close touch with D’Erlon that
it could not help following, when it enemy’s route became evident.
Unfortunately--as Soult had perhaps calculated--Hill had troops
whose ranks had been terrible thinned, and who were tired out by an
unsuccessful action fought on the preceding afternoon.

The day’s work was unsatisfactory. Picton, of course, found out at
Zubiri that everything that had been on the Roncesvalles road--the
small detachment already spoken of[998], and a mass of stragglers--had
turned up toward Eugui and the Alduides on the preceding night. And
Cole discovered that Foy had passed the Puerto de Urtiaga a whole march
ahead of him. Wellington, with the column on the great _chaussée_,
pressed rapidly across the Velate and reached Irurita, with the
exasperating result that he discovered that only 500 to 2,000 French
had passed that way[999]. On the other hand, he had news from the west
that an immense mass of the enemy had gone by the Puerto de Arraiz,
with Hill and Dalhousie after them. There were doubts whether the
pursuing force was not dangerously small--at any rate, it would have
to be cautious. And it was tiresome that the position of the Light
Division was still unknown--it might (or might not) have a chance of
falling on the flank of Soult’s long column, either at Santesteban or
at Sumbilla. Wellington’s own troops had marched far and fast from
Ostiz to Irurita, but there was in the evening enough energy left in
Byng’s brigade for a short push farther. News came in that a great
convoy of food from St. Jean de Luz had just reached Elizondo, where
it had halted under the protection of the regiment which D’Erlon had
left there on the 27th. By a forced march in the evening Byng’s flank
companies surprised and captured the whole--a good supply of bread,
biscuit, and brandy--the escort making off without resistance. The
brigadier had the heads of the brandy casks stove in, before the weary
troops could get at them, ‘it was a sight to see the disappointed
soldiers lying down on their faces and lapping up the liquor with their
hands[1000].’

All this, of course, was unimportant. The real interest of the doings
of July 31st lay on the road from Lizaso to the Puerto de Arraiz. Hill,
as was natural, was late in discovering that the whole of the French
army had passed across his front, since Abbé’s division still lay at
eight in the morning in battle-order blocking his way. But having got
the news of the decisive success won by his chief on the preceding
day, Hill had to attack the hitherto victorious enemy in front of
him, knowing that the general situation was such that they could not
possibly stand. His advance was not made till 10 a.m.--a sufficient
proof of the difficulty of resuming the offensive with tired and beaten
troops. When once, however, it began, the 2nd Division showed that if
its numbers were wasted, its fighting power was still strong. And the
delay in its attack allowed of the arrival of the 7th Division, who
were able to co-operate in a way that would have been impossible if the
fighting had started at daybreak.

On the other hand, the hours between dawn and 10 a.m., during which
his retreat was unmolested, were invaluable to Soult, whose army was
jammed in the passes in a most dangerous fashion. He had taken the
lead himself, with the two cavalry divisions and the baggage, ordering
Reille, whose troops were the most demoralized of all, to follow, with
Clausel in his rear--D’Erlon stopping behind as rearguard to hold back
the enemy. Now cavalry moves slowly in an uphill climb on a narrow
road; while worn-out mules and pack-horses go much slower still, and
are always breaking down and obstructing the route. The result was a
complete block in the defiles: when Reille heard firing commencing in
the rear, he grew so anxious that he ordered his infantry to push on
anyhow, and thrust their way through the baggage by force[1001]. This
naturally made matters still worse. Clausel found a better plan: the
Puerto de Arraiz gives its name to what is really not a single path,
but three parallel ones of various merit, all crossing the same dip in
the main crest of the Pyrenees within a short distance of each other.
They come together again on the north side of the watershed near the
village of Donna Maria, whence some writers call the whole group ‘the
Donna Maria passes.’ Clausel, leaving the best and most obvious track
to the others, crossed by the most eastern of the three, the Puerto de
Arraiz proper, while the cavalry, Reille, and D’Erlon took the western
route which is locally known as the Puerto de Eradi, and comes down
more directly on to Santesteban.

When Hill’s attack began to develop from Lizaso, D’Erlon ordered Abbé’s
division to give ground, before it was too closely pressed, but halted
it for a stand again, on heights by the Venta de Urroz, six miles
farther north, at the foot of the passes. Darmagnac and Maransin were
visible higher up the crest, where they were waiting till the road
should be clear in front of them. It was now nearly two o’clock, and
Dalhousie’s division was nearing the front, and was visible closing
towards Hill’s right. Undoubtedly the proper game was to await its
arrival, and use it to turn Abbé’s flank. But Hill directed his leading
troops to prevent the enemy from withdrawing, and the vanguard was this
day in charge of the reckless William Stewart, who despite his Maya
wound had come back to his troops, and appeared with his damaged leg
strapped to his saddle in a roll of cushions. He ordered Fitzgerald’s
brigade to attack at once frontally: this was really wicked; the three
battalions had lost nearly half their numbers at Maya, and 150 men more
at Beunza on the preceding afternoon. They were a mere wreck--under
1,000 bayonets: the position opposite them was a steep wooded hill,
held by the most intact division of the whole French army, over 7,000
strong. The attack was delivered with great courage, but was hopeless
from the first, and repelled with loss[1002]. Stewart then repeated it,
throwing in Pringle’s brigade as it came up from the rear, to support
Fitzgerald’s, and turning on two guns, which had been brought up with
much difficulty, to shell the woods beside the road. A second attack
was thus delivered with equal want of success. But Dalhousie’s troops
having now come up on the right[1003], a third push was successful,
and Abbé went back, and retired behind Darmagnac, who now took over
the rearguard. The hours gained in this combat had sufficed to clear
the road, and on the further advance of the British, D’Erlon’s corps
gave back rapidly but in good order, and was in full retreat down the
northern watershed when a dense fog came on, and caused Hill to halt
his troops. Stewart’s first wholly unnecessary frontal attack had
resulted in the loss of the acting-brigadier, Fitzgerald, wounded and
a prisoner[1004], and of nearly 200 casualties among his three weak
battalions--91 in the 92nd Highlanders alone, who having put 750 men
in line at Maya on the 25th came out of action on the 31st with only
250 surviving. The 7th Division had 117 casualties distributed between
six English and Portuguese units--and the total loss in the combat was
387, including a score of prisoners. That Stewart himself was again
wounded and sent to the rear, after only twelve hours at the front, was
a testimonial to his courage, but a very fortunate event for the 2nd
Division. The French cannot have lost much over 200 men[1005].

Having thus cleared the passes, Hill thought it was his duty to carry
out Wellington’s original orders of the preceding night[1006], by
closing in towards the main body on the Maya _chaussée_; he did so by
taking a hill track called the Puerto de Sangre, which runs from Arraiz
to Almandoz. Of course this was a grave mistake, as troops were wanted
rather on the Santesteban than on the Elizondo road. Hill must not
be too much blamed, as Wellington might have sent him new orders to
keep to the direction of the enemy’s retreat, and did not. The danger
involved in this move was that only the 7th Division was left to pursue
Soult’s main body, and the force in the upper Bastan was unnecessarily
increased. The responsibility rests with Wellington, who, even after
reaching Irurita in the afternoon and finding practically no traces of
enemy in the Bastan, could not believe that the French had gone off _en
masse_ by the passes to Santesteban. He would make no sweeping changes
in his plan till he got full information. ‘I shall make the troops
dine, and see what is to be done in the evening’ was his message to
Murray[1007]. The evening brought Hill’s news, and by dawn Wellington
was much more clear about the situation--‘as far as I can judge the
enemy have six divisions between Doña Maria and St. Estevan. There are
three divisions certainly about Eugui and Roncesvalles[1008].’ The
distribution of the French was even still misjudged--there were troops
representing eight divisions, not six, in the Central Bastan valley.
And only one division, Foy’s, had passed eastward; though so many lost
detachments and bands of stragglers had followed it, that an impression
of much larger numbers had been produced.

Despite of Wellington’s misconceptions, Soult’s position at Santesteban
that evening was most uncomfortable. His cavalry scouts had brought
him news that there was a heavy British column on his right flank, at
Elizondo in the Upper Bastan (Cole and Byng). His rearguard had been
fiercely attacked by another column (Dalhousie and Hill). There were
large possibilities of the arrival of other foes from the north and
west, if Graham had not been kept employed by Villatte. And it was
growing most obvious that the story which D’Erlon had reported, to
the effect that the Reserve Division had crossed the Bidassoa, and
was advancing, could not be true. For cavalry patrols pushing down
the river towards Vera could not find any signs of friendly troops,
and had been fired on by Spanish outposts--Longa’s men. When Soult
next wrote to Paris he spoke out with much bitterness on the criminal
torpidity of Villatte, who might at least, without risking anything,
have occupied Vera and the gorge of the Bidassoa, and have tried to
get into touch with the army in the field. It must be remembered that
down to the 30th all Soult’s communications with his bases at Bayonne
and St. Jean-Pied-du-Port had been either by Maya or by Roncesvalles.
He had thrown up the latter line when he marched north; the former was
now closed to him by the reported arrival of a large hostile force
at Elizondo. The only way home was by the road down the Bidassoa by
Sumbilla to Echalar; and now it turned out that there was no certainty
that this road might not have been blocked by detachments from
Graham’s army. The situation was anything but hopeful, and a complete
disaster was by no means outside the bounds of possibility. One thing
was certain--the army must get out of the Santesteban cul-de-sac
as soon as possible, and by the only road that was not known to be
intercepted. But prompt flight was rendered difficult by the presence
at head-quarters of two divisions of quite useless cavalry, a convoy of
many thousands of wounded, and the baggage of eight divisions.

At evening on the 31st the Marshal had been so much disturbed by the
news of the presence of the British at Elizondo, from whence they could
descend on Santesteban by following the road along the Bidassoa, that
he had thrown out the whole of Reille’s surviving infantry (perhaps
6,000 men) to cover the road by the river against any attack. But the
enemy did not move that night--Wellington was resting his men and
waiting for news. Dalhousie had halted on the heights by the Puerto de
Arraiz when the fog came down at 5 p.m., and did not follow D’Erlon
down to the valley.

Hence Soult had the power to arrange for a flitting before dawn, on
the only possible route--a gorge twelve miles long where the road
follows the rocky bed of the Bidassoa in all its curves, with the water
on its left and steep wooded hills on its right. The line of march
was headed by one infantry battalion of Reille’s corps to clear the
way[1009], then came Treillard’s dragoons[1010], six regiments, taking
up an intolerable length of road, then the remains of Lamartinière’s
division[1011], then the wounded followed by the baggage train, then
the handful of men that represented the wrecked division of Maucune,
then (apparently) Pierre Soult’s cavalry[1012]. D’Erlon’s corps was to
follow--in the order Abbé, Maransin, Darmagnac, followed by another
mass of baggage. Clausel’s wing was directed to bring up the rear,
with the task of holding back any pursuit either from the direction of
Elizondo or that of the Donna Maria passes. It was certain that there
was danger from both sides--so the start was made early--at 2.30, long
ere dawn. Reille was directed to lead the column along the river as
far as the bifurcation of the routes to Vera and to Echalar, where he
was to take the latter, and turn off from the Bidassoa: for the last
stage into France was to be made over the Puerto de Echalar and not
over the more westerly Puerto de Vera. Apparently D’Erlon was ordered
to branch off at Sumbilla with his infantry alone, and to take a
separate mountain-track to Echalar, which few maps mark. This is, at
any rate, Soult’s statement; but as D’Erlon makes no mention of such
directions, and did not actually go that way (though Clausel did), the
order matters little to the historian.

The unpleasant possibilities of the situation of the French on the
night of July 31st-August 1st seem to have been more clearly discerned
by Soult than by Wellington--as was natural, since the Marshal knew
much better the exact state of his own army. There was a positive
danger that it might be enveloped from all sides on the following
day. But Wellington does not seem to have contemplated so great an
operation, though he had a clear notion that the enemy might be much
incommoded and harassed if all went well. He had hopes that something
might be done by means of the Light Division--whose position was still,
most unluckily, a matter of doubt. He had written on the preceding
afternoon to Charles Alten to say that if he had got back to Zubieta,
he ought to be told that a large body of the enemy was marching by the
Donna Maria passes: ‘it is very desirable that you should endeavour
to head them at St. Estevan. If you should find that you cannot head
them there, you might at Sumbilla, or you might cut in upon their
column of march: they are in the greatest disorder. The head of our
troops is here at Irurita, and others are following the enemy by Doña
Maria. Communicate this to Sir Thomas Graham, via Goizueta[1013].’ It
is quite clear that there is no idea of encirclement in this order,
but only one of molestation. And it is equally obvious that Wellington
had no idea of using any of Graham’s forces to block the gorge of the
Bidassoa. His message to that general on the 31st is, ‘we are going to
act immediately against a column which is retiring by the Doña Maria
road. We have plenty of troops in the proper direction, and if we can
overtake the column, I hope its rear will suffer considerably[1014].’
Graham is asked for no help; and, what is more curious, Wellington in
his last preceding letter had told him that he attached no importance
to keeping possession of Vera, at the actual gorge of the Bidassoa.
‘I have a letter from General Giron, expressing apprehensions of the
consequences to his position of losing Vera. The fact is, that Vera is
no object to anybody. The heights are important for the communication
with Lesaca by the valley of the Bidassoa, and the heights on the other
side open the _débouché_ into France. But the loss of both would not
affect the position of Irun, if the passages through the rocky heights
on the right of Irun are well guarded, for which Longa is allotted:
and that is what it is most important to take care of.’[1015] This, it
is true, was written on the 30th, before Wellington had ascertained
that any French force was to retire by Santesteban. But it coincides
completely with Graham’s contemporary letter to his commander,
expressing exactly the same opinion. ‘General Giron seems anxious, on
hearing of Soult’s being repulsed, to undertake an offensive operation
against the Puerto de Vera, which I could not encourage, being
persuaded that his troops would not succeed, against so strong a post,
and that his failure would be very prejudicial.’

In fact it is clear that Graham and Wellington both discouraged the
idea of sending a considerable force to the gorge of the Bidassoa,
which a day later would have proved of incalculable importance. A
single division placed on the cross-roads to Vera and Echalar by the
bridge of Yanzi would have cut Soult’s only line of retreat. His
infantry, no doubt, or great part of it, could have escaped over the
mountains, but the whole of his cavalry and train, and no doubt many
infantry also, must have been captured. To make matters easy for
the enemy, Soult had placed at the head of his interminable column
useless dragoons, and the smallest and most demoralized of his corps
of infantry. Neither Reille’s wasted divisions nor Treillard’s cavalry
could have cut their way through 5,000 steady troops at the mouth of
the defile. And D’Erlon could not have got up--the road in front of him
for miles being blocked with baggage and helpless horsemen, and his
rear harassed by vigorous pursuit.

Unfortunately, however, when Longa complained that he was too weak on
the heights opposite Vera, and reported that the French were turning
back, and that his post at the bridge of Yanzi would be attacked,
no more was done to strengthen him than the moving of one brigade
of Barcena’s division to the heights by Lesaca, from which a single
battalion was sent down to the Yanzi position. Yet this solitary unit
had no small effect on the events of August 1, caused a panic among the
enemy, and delayed Soult’s march for hours. What would have happened if
Graham and Giron had sent down a solid force (e.g. one British and one
or two Spanish brigades) it is impossible to say with accuracy, but the
results must have been tremendous.

There can be no doubt that the legend according to which Wellington
schemed for the complete encirclement of Soult’s army on the 1st of
August, though early and well supported, is inaccurate. The form which
it takes in Napier[1016], Larpent, and Stanhope’s _Conversations
with the Duke of Wellington_, is that on the evening of the 31st
arrangements were being made for a concentric attack on Soult, but
that they were foiled, under Wellington’s own eyes, by a party of
marauding British soldiers, who strayed near the French camp, and were
taken prisoners. Their appearance from the Elizondo side betrayed,
it is alleged, to Soult that he was outflanked, and caused him to
march in the night instead of at dawn--by which time he would have
been surrounded. Unfortunately for the legend, we have Soult’s own
contemporary dispatch of August 2 to prove that the news of the
presence of the British at Elizondo was brought him by a cavalry
patrol, which reached the village just as it and the convoy in it were
captured by Byng’s brigade. They got away, but could not tell him
whether the convoy-escort had, or had not, escaped. Moreover, much
earlier in the day, Reille had warned the Marshal that the British were
coming up in force on the Velate-Elizondo road--so the whole story
falls through.

Wellington’s limited ambitions of August 1 are made clear by his
dispatch written at 6 in the morning, which says that he is sending
the 4th Division on to Santesteban ‘with the intention of aiding
Dalhousie’s advance, and to endeavour to cut some of them off.’ It
is true that he adds, ‘I sent in triplicate to the Light Division at
Zubieta yesterday, to desire that General Alten should move toward St.
Estevan, and at all events get hold of Sumbilla if he could. But I have
heard nothing of him[1017].’ He was therefore not relying on certain
help from the Light Division, or from Graham or from Longa, though
advices of the situation were sent to all three. Of the troops under
his own hand he only sent the 4th Division to join the hunt. Cole was
directed to push the French on the north bank of the Bidassoa, while
Dalhousie was pressing them on the south bank. Byng was told to remain
stationary, till Hill’s column should come up from Almandoz, ‘when I
shall know better how things are situated on all sides, and how far Sir
Rowland has advanced.’

The 4th Division, starting early despite of its long march on the
preceding day, was attacking the French rear by seven o’clock in the
morning--7th Division diaries would seem to show that Dalhousie was
much later in closing. We have, oddly enough, no good account of
the fight that ensued from any British source[1018]; but Clausel’s
narrative enables us to understand pretty well what happened. At
dawn Vandermaesen’s division had been left as rearguard on the hill
facing Santesteban on the north side of the Bidassoa, with Taupin’s
in support, while Conroux’s was trying to make its way towards
Sumbilla, but found the path blocked by D’Erlon’s baggage in front.
Wherefore Clausel directed his brigadiers to give up any idea of
keeping to the road, and to march along the slopes above it, so long
as was possible. When the British appeared, they attacked with long
lines of skirmishers, keeping to the hillside and attempting to turn
Vandermaesen’s flank on the high ground. The French, therefore, also
extended themselves uphill, but reached the crest only after the enemy
had just crowned it. ‘On this ground, where no regular deployment
could take place, the side which had got to the top first had every
advantage.’ Vandermaesen’s battalions evidently broke up, as we are
told that they got into trouble, ‘continuing a retrograde movement
high up the mountain among horrid precipices,’ and were only rallied
on two of Taupin’s regiments above the gorge of the defile between
Santesteban and Sumbilla, where Clausel had to halt perforce, because
there was a complete block in front of him--Darmagnac’s division of
D’Erlon’s corps was halted there from absolute inability to proceed,
owing to trouble in front. The French narrative then describes an
hour of incoherent fighting on the slopes above Sumbilla, in which
Darmagnac’s troops on the road below were also engaged. It ended with
the retreat of all Clausel’s three divisions across the hills, each
taking its own way by foot-tracks up a different spur of the Atchiola
range, and arriving in succession in the upland valley of Echalar by
separate routes. The British did not follow, but stuck to Darmagnac
and the baggage-train down in the road, whom they continued to press
and persecute. All this reads like a serious fight and a deliberate
retreat--but the critical historian must remark that to all appearances
Clausel is glozing over a complete _débandade_ and a disorderly flight
across the mountains--for that there was no real resistance is shown by
the casualty list of the pursuing British. The 4th Division brigades,
English and Portuguese, lost that day precisely three men killed and
three officers and 42 men wounded among their twelve battalions--i.
e. there can have been no attempt at a stand at any time in the
morning--and from the first moment, when Vandermaesen’s flank was
turned, the enemy must have continued to make off over inaccessible
ground as hard as he could go. If he had tried to hold the pursuers
back, the 4th Division would have shown more than 48 killed and
wounded. The 7th Division had no casualties at all, so evidently did
not get to the front in time to do more than pick up stragglers and
baggage. The same impression of mere flight is produced by the French
lists of officers killed and hurt--six in Vandermaesen’s division, one
in Conroux’s, none in Taupin’s--this should, on the usual proportion
between the ranks, represent perhaps 150 or 160 as the total loss of
Clausel’s corps[1019]. Obviously then, we are facing the record of a
flight not of a fight; and the conduct of these same divisions on the
following morning, when attacked by Barnes’s brigade--of which, more in
its proper place--sufficiently explains the happenings of August 1st.

So much for the chronicle of the rearguard. That of the vanguard is
much more interesting. Reille, as has been before mentioned, was in
charge of the advance, which consisted of one battalion of the 120th
Regiment, followed by Treillard’s dragoon division, the baggage of
the corps, and the main convoy of wounded; the rest of the infantry
was separated by a couple of miles of impedimenta from the leading
battalion. There was no trouble, though progress was very slow, until,
late in the morning, the head of the column arrived near the bridge of
Yanzi, where a by-path, leading down from that village and from Lesaca,
crosses the Bidassoa. The bridge of Yanzi was, as has been mentioned
above--the extreme right point of the long observation line which
Longa’s Spaniards had been holding since July 25th. The village above
it, on the west bank, a mile uphill, was occupied by a battalion of
Barcena’s division of the Galician Army, lent to Longa on the preceding
day--the 2nd Regiment of Asturias[1020]. But there were two companies
of Longa’s own on outlying picket at the bridge, which had been
barricaded but not broken. The road from Santesteban bifurcates a short
distance up-stream from the bridge, the left-hand branch following
the bank of the Bidassoa to Vera, the right-hand one diverging inland
and uphill to Echalar. The route of the French was not across the
bridge, since they were not going to Lesaca or Yanzi, nor past it,
since they were not going to Vera; they had to turn off eastward at
the cross-roads, almost opposite the bridge but a little south of it,
and to follow the minor road which leads up to Echalar along the south
bank of the Sari stream, on which that village stands. When Reille’s
battalion at the head of the marching column came to the cross roads,
it was fired upon by the Spanish post at the bridge. This created some
confusion: the critic can only ask with wonder why Reille, who had six
cavalry regiments under his orders, had not sent out vedettes along the
roads far ahead, and become aware long before of the obstruction in
his front: evidently, however, he had not. After the first shots were
fired, there was a general stoppage all down the column. The battalion
at its head could see that the Spaniards were very few, and prepared
to dislodge them. Meanwhile the dragoons had halted and many of them,
at places where the river was level with the road, walked their horses
into the stream, to let them drink. Suddenly there came a violent
explosion of musketry from the front--the bridge was being attacked and
forced. But to those far down the road, who could not see the bridge,
it sounded as if the enemy was assailing and driving in the solitary
battalion on which the safety of the whole army depended for the
moment. A great part of the dragoons shouted ‘right about turn,’ and
galloped backward up the pass without having received any order[1021],
till they plunged into General Reille and his staff, moving at the head
of Lamartinière’s division, and nearly rode them down. The column of
infantry blocking the road stopped the further progress of the foremost
fugitives, who got jammed in a mass by the impetus of squadrons
pressing behind them. Reille could not make out the cause of the
panic, but filed the 2nd Léger out of the road and sent them past the
dragoons by a footpath on the slope, by which they got to the bridge.
It was found that the Spaniards had been driven from it, and forced
to retire up the west bank of the river, the way to Echalar being
clear. Thereupon the battalion of the 120th, followed by the 2nd Léger,
turned up the road, and after them the leading regiments of dragoons.
The officers in charge at the front forgot that their enemies might
return, and left no one to guard the bridge. Hence, when Reille came
up in person a little later, he was vexed to find that the Spaniards
had reappeared on the rocky farther bank of the river half a mile above
the bridge, and were firing across the ravine at the passing cavalry,
causing much confusion and some loss. Unable to cross the river, which
had precipitous banks at this point, he ordered that the next infantry
which arrived--the 2nd battalion of the 120th--should deploy on the
slopes above the road, and keep down the enemy’s fire by continuous
volleys. He also directed another battalion to cross the bridge, and
work up-stream till they should come on the flank of the Spaniards, and
then to drive them away. This was done, and the rest of the dragoons,
Lamartinière’s infantry, and the head of the column of baggage filed
past the cross-roads and went on towards Echalar--with Reille himself
in their company. He had left a battalion at the Yanzi bridge, with
orders to hold the pass, but had little expectation of seeing it
molested again, taking the enemy for a mere party of guerrilleros.

But worse was now to come. The Spanish companies which had been driven
off were now reinforced by the main body of the regiment of Asturias,
which, coming down from Yanzi village, made a vigorous attack on the
bridge, swept back the French battalion which was holding it[1022],
and began firing into the baggage train which was passing the cross
roads at that moment. The bulk of it turned back in confusion, and
rushed up the defile, soon causing a complete block among the convoy
of wounded and the division of Maucune, which was the next combatant
unit in the line of march. The Spaniards held the bridge for more
than two hours, during which complete anarchy prevailed on the road as
far as Sumbilla, where D’Erlon’s rearguard, the division of Darmagnac,
was now engaged in skirmishing with the British 4th Division. The
real difficulty was that owing to the bad arrangement of the order
of march, it took an inordinate time to bring fresh troops from the
rear up to the head of the column; while Reille, now safely arrived
at Echalar and busy in arranging his troops in position there, does
not seem to have thought for a moment of what might be going on behind
him[1023]. Maucune’s division (a mere wreck) came up at last, thrusting
the baggage and wounded aside: its general confesses that ‘it fought
feebly with the Spaniards at the bridge--its loss was not more than 30
men. The division was so weak, its men so short of cartridges, that
it was necessary to wait for one of Count D’Erlon’s divisions to come
up, before the road could be cleared[1024].’ He does not add--but his
corps-commander[1025] gives us the fact--that ‘the 7th Division ended
by quitting the road and throwing itself into the mountains in order to
avoid the enemy’s fire,’ i. e. it went over the hills in disorder, and
arrived at Echalar as a mob rather than a formed body. Abbé’s troops,
at the head of D’Erlon’s column, at last got up, after a desperate
scramble through the mass of baggage, wounded, and (apparently) cavalry
also, for some of Pierre Soult’s regiments seem to have been marching
after Maucune. ‘Jammed between the river, whose right bank is very
steep, and the mountain, whose slopes are wooded and impracticable, the
soldiers shoved the train aside, upsetting much into the river, and
turning the disorder of the movement to profit by pillaging all that
they could lay their hands upon[1026].’ At last Abbé got four or five
battalions disentangled[1027] and formed them to attack the bridge,
which was carried by the 64th Regiment after a struggle which did the
Asturians much credit--the French units engaged showed a loss of 9
officers, probably therefore of some 200 men[1028]. Leaving a couple of
battalions to guard the bridge and the knoll beyond it, Abbé hurried
the rest of his division towards Echalar, the baggage following as
it could, mixed with the troops that were coming up from the rear.
Thus the greater part of D’Erlon’s corps got through; but there was
still one more episode to come in this day of alarms and excursions.
Darmagnac’s division, at the rear of all, had reached the cross-roads,
and had relieved Abbé’s battalions at the bridge by a covering force
of its own, when a new and furious fire of musketry suddenly broke out
from the slopes above, and a swarm of green-coated skirmishers rushed
down the heights, carried the knoll and the bridge below it, and opened
fire on the passing troops--Darmagnac’s rear brigade--and the mass of
baggage which was mixed with it. This marked the arrival--when it was
too late--of the much tried British Light Division, whose unfortunate
adventures of the last three days it is necessary to explain.

It will be remembered that Wellington had sent orders to Charles Alten,
on the 29th July, that he should move from Zubieta to such a point
on the Tolosa-Yrurzun road as might seem best--possibly Lecumberri.
This dispatch travelled fast, and Alten marched that same night to
Saldias--a short stage but fatiguing, as marches in the dark are prone
to be. Next day--the 30th--the Light Division made an extremely long
and exhausting march by vile mountain roads to Lecumberri, hearing
all day incessant cannonading and musketry fire to their left--this
was the noise of the second battle of Sorauren and the combat of
Beunza. Unfortunately Alten was in touch neither with Hill nor with
Head-Quarters, and though he reached Lecumberri at dark on the 30th,
got no news of what had happened till late on the afternoon of the
31st, when one of Wellington’s aides-de-camp rode in, ‘more dead than
alive from excessive fatigue[1029],’ bearing the order issued late on
the 30th for the return of the division to Zubieta. He brought the
news of Soult’s defeat--but Wellington and every one else had supposed
that the French would go back by the Puerto de Velate, and Alten’s
orders were merely to get into communication with the 7th Division,
sent on the side-operation by the Puerto de Arraiz, which was at the
time of the issue of the order thought comparatively subsidiary[1030].
The Light Division marched that evening to Leyza--eight or nine miles
on a mountain road--not a bad achievement for the dark hours, but
critics (wise after the event) whispered that Alten might have got to
Saldias, eight miles farther, if he had chosen to push the men. It, at
any rate, made a mighty difference to the fate of the campaign that
Wellington’s next orders, those issued from Almandoz at noon on the
31st, found the Light Division not near Zubieta but at Leyza, when they
were handed in during the small hours before dawn on the 1st.

This dispatch, as will be remembered, told Alten that Soult had retired
by the Puerto de Arraiz and Santesteban, and was obviously going
home through the gorge of the Bidassoa, by Vera and Echalar. He was
directed to ‘head off’ the enemy at Santesteban, if that were possible,
if not at Sumbilla seven miles farther north--or at least to ‘cut
in upon their column of march’ somewhere[1031]. All this would have
been quite possible, if Wellington had not on the 29th sent the Light
Division on the unlucky southward march from Zubieta to Lecumberri.
This misdirection was at the root of all subsequent misadventure. We
may add that it would still have been possible, if the dispatch sent
off in the early morning of the 31st to bid the division come back to
Zubieta, had contained any indication that the enemy was retiring by
Santesteban, or that haste was necessary. But it had only directed
Alten to ‘put his division in movement for Zubieta,’ but to keep up his
touch with Lecumberri, and told him that Dalhousie would be marching
by the passes of Donna Maria[1032]. The Almandoz note, which contained
the really important general information and detailed orders, wandered
about for many hours in the sabretache of an aide-de-camp who could not
know where Alten was, and found him after many hours of groping in the
night at Leyza, and not at Zubieta. From the latter place, only six
miles from Santesteban, the operation directed by Wellington would have
been possible to execute in good time--from Leyza (on the other side of
a difficult pass, and many miles farther away) it was not. This simple
fact settled the fate of the Light Division on August 1.

Alten put his men under arms at dawn on that morning, and marched, as
ordered, for Santesteban via Zubieta; having passed the latter place
and got to Elgorriaga, four miles farther on, he received the news
that the enemy had left Santesteban early, and could not be headed off
there. Wellington’s alternative scheme dictated an attempt to break
into Soult’s line of march at Sumbilla, so the Light Division was put
in motion by the very bad country road over the mountain of Santa Cruz
from Elgorriaga to Aranaz and Yanzi. The men had already gone a full
day’s journey, and were much fatigued. They had (it will be remembered)
executed a night march from Lecumberri to Leyza only twelve hours back.
The Santa Cruz path was heart-breaking--officers had to dismount and
walk up to spare their horses: the men went bent double under their
knapsacks: the day was one of blazing August sunshine: the track was
over big stones embedded in deep shale--one sufferer compared his
progress to striding from one stepping-stone to another[1033].

On reaching the crest of the Santa Cruz mountain, opposite Sumbilla,
at four in the afternoon, the Light Division at last came in sight of
the enemy--a dense and disorderly column hurrying along the road from
Sumbilla northward, pressed by the 4th Division, the bickering fire
of whose skirmishers could be seen round the tail of the rearguard.
They were separated from the observer’s point of view by the canon of
the Bidassoa, here very deep and precipitous--the Santa Cruz mountain
is over 3,000 feet high. It would have taken much time to scramble
down the steep path to Sumbilla, and the enemy was already past that
village. Alten, therefore, resolved to push for the bridge of Yanzi,
seven miles farther on, with the hope of cutting off at least the
rearguard of the French.

But this seven miles was too much for men already in the last stages
of fatigue from over-marching and want of food. ‘When the cry was set
up “the enemy,” the worn soldiers raised their bent heads covered with
dust and sweat: we had nearly reached the summit of the tremendous
mountain, but nature was quite exhausted. Many men had lagged behind,
having accomplished thirty miles over rocky roads interspersed with
loose stones. Many fell heavily on the naked rock, frothing at the
mouth, black in the face, and struggling in their last agonies. Others,
unable to drag one leg after the other, leaned on the muzzles of their
firelocks, muttering in disconsolate accents that “they had never
fallen out before”[1034].’

This was a heart-breaking sight for the divisional commander, who could
see both the opportunity still offered him, and the impossibility of
taking full advantage of it. After a short halt the troops, or such of
them as could still keep up, were started off again to shuffle down the
shaly track on the north side of the mountain. At the foot of it, by a
brook near the village of Aranaz, the 2nd Brigade was told to halt and
fall out--it was a trifle more exhausted than the 1st Brigade, because
it had endured more of the dust, and more of the delay from casual
stoppages and accidents, which always happens in the rear of a long
column. Alten carried the survivors--the 1st and 3rd battalions Rifle
Brigade, 1/43rd, and 1st Caçadores--as far as Yanzi, and then turned
them down the road to the Bidassoa, which is screened by woods. The
French were taken wholly by surprise: the Rifle battalions carried the
knoll above the bridge, and the bridge itself, without much difficulty.
The 43rd and Caçadores spread themselves out on the slope to their
right and opened fire on the hurrying mass below them.

‘At twilight,’ wrote a captain of the 43rd whose narrative was quoted
by Napier, but is well worth quoting again, ‘we overlooked the enemy
within a stone’s throw, and from the summit of a precipice: the river
separated us: but the French were wedged in a narrow road, with rocks
enclosing them on one side and the river on the other. Such confusion
took place among them as is impossible to describe. The wounded were
thrown down in the rush and trampled upon: the cavalry drew their
swords and endeavoured to charge up the pass to Echalar[1035], the
only opening on their right flank. But the infantry beat them back,
and several of them, horse and man, were precipitated into the river.
Others fired up vertically at us, while the wounded called out for
quarter, and pointed to the numerous soldiers borne on the shoulders
of their comrades on stretchers composed of the branches of trees,
to which were looped great-coats clotted with gore, or blood-stained
sheets taken from houses to carry their wounded--on whom we did not
fire[1036].’

The officer commanding in the French rear finally got out a battalion
behind a stone wall, whose fire somewhat covered the defiling mass.
All the bolder spirits ran the gauntlet through the zone of fire and
escaped up the road to Echalar[1037]. The weak, the wounded, and the
worn-out surrendered to the leading troops of the 4th Division, who now
closed in on them. About 1,000 prisoners were made, largely soldiers
of the train and other non-combatants, but including stragglers from
nearly every division in Soult’s army. There was no pursuit--the Light
Division troops could not have stirred a step: the 4th Division were
almost as weary after a long day’s hunt. The casualties of both had
been absurdly small--3 officers and 45 men in Cole’s regiments, 1
officer and 15 men in Alten’s. The Spanish battalion engaged in the
afternoon must, of course, have lost on a very different scale during
its highly creditable operations; but its casualties have, unluckily,
not been recorded. The French may have had 500 killed and wounded, and
1,000 prisoners--but this was the least part of their loss--the really
important thing was that thousands of men were scattered in the hills,
and did not rally to their eagles for many days. That night Soult’s
army was not only a demoralized, but a much depleted force.

Wellington was, not unnaturally, dissatisfied with the day’s work.
‘Many events,’ he wrote to Graham, ‘turned out for us unfortunately
on the 1st instant, each of which ought to have been in our favour:
we should have done the enemy a great deal more mischief than we did
during his passage down this valley[1038].’ For one of these things,
Alten’s late arrival, he was himself mainly responsible[1039]: for the
others--Longa’s and Barcena’s strange failure to detach more troops
to help the regiment of Asturias at Yanzi[1040], and Dalhousie’s late
arrival with the 7th Division--which never got into action or lost a
man--he was not.

It must be confessed, however, that Wellington’s intentions on August
1st are a little difficult to follow. One would have supposed that he
would have devoted his main attention to a direct attempt to smash
up Soult’s main body--but he never allotted more than the 4th, 7th,
and Light Divisions to that task--while he had obviously another idea
in his head, dealing with a larger scheme for the destruction of the
enemy. At 9.30, when he had occupied Santesteban, he sent orders to
Byng, then at Elizondo, to bid him to march at once on the Pass of
Maya, and to throw an advanced party into Urdax, on the French side of
the defile. At the same time Hill, at Irurita, is desired to follow
Byng, occupy Elizondo, and--if his troops can bear the strain--advance
even to the Pass of Maya. Should this prove possible, Byng, when
relieved by Hill, should descend into France as far as Ainhoue on the
Nivelle. The 2nd Division, and the Portuguese division attached to it,
would follow him next morning. Hopes are expressed in the dispatch
that Pakenham and the 6th Division--last heard of at Eugui on the
31st--would be in a position to combine their operations with those of
Hill[1041].

This descent into the valley of the Nivelle from the Maya pass must
surely have been imagined with the idea of encircling the whole
French army at Echalar, for Ainhoue was well in Soult’s rear, and
troops placed there could cut him off from the direct road to Bayonne.
On the same evening Wellington was dictating a dispatch to Graham
telling him that he hoped to be at Maya next morning, and beyond the
frontier: Graham was therefore to prepare to cross the Bidassoa and
attack Villatte with his and Giron’s full force, including cavalry
and guns, leaving St. Sebastian blockaded by the necessary minimum
detachment[1042]. Meanwhile Alten, Dalhousie, and Cole were to mass in
front of the enemy’s position at Echalar. The only possible meaning
that can be drawn from these orders, when read together, is that
Wellington had now developed the complete encircling scheme for Soult’s
destruction, which he had _not_ thought out on July 31.

But the scheme was never put into execution. On August 2 Byng was
halted at Maya, Graham received no order to pass the Bidassoa, and
all that was done was to execute an attack on Echalar--attended with
complete success, it is true, but only resulting in pushing Soult back
towards the Nivelle, where there was no intercepting force waiting to
waylay him. Somewhere between 8 p.m. on the 1st and dawn on the 2nd
Wellington, for reasons which he did not avow to his staff or his most
trusted lieutenants, gave up the greater game, which had in it immense
possibilities: for Soult had no longer an army that could fight--as
events at Echalar were to prove a few hours later. Minor causes for
this great piece of self-restraint can be cited. One was that Hill
and Pakenham turned out not to be within easy supporting distance of
Byng, so that the dash into Soult’s rear could not be executed with
a sufficient force. If this operation were not carried out, Graham’s
became useless. Certainly a reflection on the extremely depleted
condition of the 2nd Division, which had suffered such heavy losses at
Maya, Beunza, and the Venta de Urroz, helped to deter Wellington from
using this exhausted force for his main stroke. Writing to Graham two
days later, he mentioned its condition as a cause of delay, along with
a general dearth of musket ammunition and shoes. But the main reason,
as we shall see later, lay rather in the higher spheres of European
politics, and the explanation was reserved for the Minister of War in
London alone. Next morning no general attack was delivered: Wellington
did not go to Maya, but merely joined the 4th and Light Divisions on
the Bidassoa. The great scheme was stillborn, and never took shape.

Soult had gathered the wrecks of his army on the range of mountains
behind Echalar, where the Spanish-French boundary line runs. The
cavalry had been at once packed off to the rear. The infantry took up
a position. Clausel’s three divisions were in the centre--Vandermaesen
holding the village with a company, and with his main body--certainly
not 2,000 men that day--across the road on the slope above. Conroux’s
division was on Vandermaesen’s right: Taupin’s, in reserve to
both the others, on the crest where the frontier runs. Reille’s
corps--still more depleted than Clausel’s, continued the line
westward--Lamartinière’s division next to Conroux’s, as far as the Peak
of Ivantelly: Maucune’s--the most dilapidated unit in a dilapidated
army--holding the ground beyond the Ivantelly, with a flank-guard
out on its right watching the road from Vera to Sarre. D’Erlon’s
divisions--still by far the most intact units of the whole command,
were on Clausel’s left, prolonging the line eastward and holding
a commanding position on the mountain side as far as the Peaks of
Salaberry and Atchuria. It is doubtful whether the Marshal had 25,000
men in line that day in his eight divisions--not because the remainder
were all casualties or prisoners, but because the long retreat, with
its incessant scrambling over mountain sides, had led to the defection
of many voluntary and still more involuntary stragglers. The former
were scattered over the country for miles on every side, seeking for
food and for ‘a day off’--the latter had dropped behind from sheer
exhaustion: there had been no regular distribution of rations since
July 29th, and the first convoy of relief had been captured by Byng at
Elizondo on the 31st.

Wellington had only 12,000 men available in front of a very formidable
position--hills 1,500 or 1,800 feet high, with the peaks which
formed the flank protection rising to 2,100 or 2,300. Under ordinary
circumstances an attack would have been insane. Moreover, his troops
were almost as way-worn as those of Soult: the Light and 4th Divisions
had received no rations since the 30th, and the latter had lost a good
third of its strength in the very heavy fighting in which it had taken
the chief part between the 25th and the 30th. But their spirits were
high, they had the strongest confidence in their power to win, and they
were convinced that the enemy was ‘on the run’--in which idea they were
perfectly right.

The plan of attack was that the 4th and 7th Divisions should assail
the enemy’s centre, on each side of the village of Echalar, while the
Light Division turned his western flank. This involved long preliminary
marching for Alten’s men, despite of their awful fatigues of the
preceding day. They had to trudge from the bridge of Yanzi and Aranaz
to Vera, where they turned uphill on to the heights of Santa Barbara,
a series of successive slopes by which they ascended towards the Peak
of Ivantelly and Reille’s flank. Just as they began to deploy they got
the first regular meal that they had seen for two days: ‘The soldiers
were so weak that they could hardly stand; however, our excellent
commissary had managed to overtake us, and hastily served out half a
pound of biscuit to each individual, which the men devoured in the act
of priming and loading just as they moved off to the attack[1043].’ The
morning was dull and misty--a great contrast to the blazing sunshine
of the preceding day, and it was hard to get any complete view of the
position--clouds were drifting along the hills and obscuring parts of
the landscape for many minutes at a time. This chance put Wellington
himself in serious danger for a moment--pushing forward farther than
he knew, with a half-company of the 43rd to cover him, he got among
the French outposts, and was only saved by the vigilance of his escort
from being cut off--he galloped back under a shower of balls--any
one of which might have caused a serious complication in the British
command--it is impossible to guess what Beresford would have made of
the end of the campaign of 1813.

While the Light Division was developing the flank attack, the front
attack was already being delivered--somewhat sooner than Wellington
expected or intended. The plan had been for the 4th Division to
operate against the French right--the 7th against their centre and
left centre. Cole, however, was delayed in getting forward by the
immense block of French débris along the narrow defile from Sumbilla
to the bridge of Yanzi. ‘For two miles there were scattered along the
road papers, old rugs, blankets, pack-saddles, old bridles and girths,
private letters, hundreds of empty and broken boxes, quantities of
entrenching tools, French clothes, dead mules, dead soldiers, dead
peasants, farriers’ tools, boots and linen, the boxes of M. le Général
Baron de St. Pol[1044] and other officers, the field hospital of the
2nd Division (Darmagnac’s), and all sorts of things worth picking
up--which caused stoppage and confusion[1045].’

Now the 7th Division did not follow the spoil-strewn river road, but
cut across from Sumbilla towards Echalar, over the same hill-tracks
which Clausel’s divisions had taken on the preceding afternoon, when
they escaped from the pursuit of Cole’s skirmishers. Hence it chanced
that they arrived in front of Echalar on a route where the enemy was
keeping no good watch, long before the 4th Division came up from the
bridge of Yanzi and the Vera cross-roads. The mists on the hills had
kept them screened--as Clausel complains in his report. Lord Dalhousie
now carried out a most dangerous manœuvre--a frontal attack on an enemy
in position by a series of brigades arriving at long intervals--without
any co-operation having been sought or obtained from the troops known
to be on his left. ‘Bravery and success,’ as a Light-Division neighbour
observed, ‘certainly far exceeded judgement or utility[1046].’ What
led the commander of the 7th Division to this astounding escapade was
the obvious unpreparedness of the enemy. ‘We caught them,’ he wrote,
‘cooking above, and plundering below in the village. I thought it best
to be at them instantly, and I really believe Barnes’s brigade was
among them before their packs were well on[1047].’

The leading troops, and the only ones which really got into action,
were the three battalions (1/6th, 3rd Provisional[1048], and
Brunswick-Oels) of Barnes’s brigade--led by that same fighting general
who had stopped the rout at Maya with two of these same battalions.
Barnes got his line formed, and attacked uphill against the front of
Conroux’s division, long before Inglis’s brigade was ready to follow,
or Lecor’s Portuguese had even got down from the hill path into the
narrow valley of the Sari stream. With such speed and vigour was the
assault delivered, under a frontal fire from Conroux’s men, and a flank
fire from Vandermaesen’s on the right, that Inglis’s brigade, which was
aiming at the village of Echalar, never had the chance of getting near
its enemy. The advancing line suffered severely as it climbed--nearly
300 casualties--but when it came against the front of Conroux, and
delivered its first volley, the enemy simply melted away[1049]. As
Clausel writes in apology, ‘the resistance ought to have been greater,
and in the ordinary state of the army, that is to say when a better
spirit prevailed, it would never have been possible for the enemy to
establish himself in this fashion on a section of the main chain of
the Pyrenees. This day the morale of the troops was bad[1050].’ It
must be remembered that Conroux’s was the division which had suffered
so heavily in the village of Sorauren both on the 28th and the 30th
of July. Several of its battalions were skeletons--all much thinned.
Still there must have been 3,000 men yet present out of the original
7,000--and they turned and fled before the uphill attack of 1,800 or
less. Nor was this the end of the disaster. Clausel tried to hurry
Vandermaesen’s division to the succour of Conroux’s. But the manœuvre
failed: the French General says that Conroux’s flying troops ran in
upon Vandermaesen’s, that confusion followed, and that he was obliged
to let the whole mass roll back to seek shelter with Taupin’s division
in the reserve line[1050].

At this moment the leading brigade of the 4th Division, that of Ross,
at last appeared on Dalhousie’s left, and began to skirmish with
Lamartinière’s line[1051]: demonstrations began--probably by Lecor’s
Portuguese--against the front of Maransin[1052], D’Erlon’s right-hand
division. But these were of no importance in comparison with the effect
of the turning of Reille’s end of the line by the Light Division. This
was almost as startling in effect as Barnes’s dealings with the French
centre. Having reached the front on the heights of Santa Barbara, below
the Peak of Ivantelly, Alten brushed aside Maucune’s feeble skirmishing
line, and let loose five companies of the Rifle Brigade supported by
four of the 43rd against the dominating peak of the Ivantelly, the
most prominent feature of the French position. Clouds swept down along
the hills at this moment, and the supporting companies lost sight of
the front line. ‘An invisible firing commenced, and it was impossible
to ascertain which party was getting the better of the fight: the
combatants were literally contending in the clouds[1053].’ But when the
43rd came up, they found that the rifle companies had dislodged the
2nd Léger, Lamartinière’s flank regiment, from the precipitous crest,
and were in full possession of it. As they lost only 1 officer and 26
men in taking a most formidable peak, it is clear that the enemy’s
resistance must have been very ineffective[1054].

All was now confusion on the French right wing--Reille speaks
of himself as wandering about in a fog with three battalions of
Lamartinière’s, and meeting no one save the brigadier Montfort, who
was bringing up a mere 200 men to try to reinforce the troops on the
Ivantelly. The soldiers were profiting by the mist to go off to the
rear, and could not be kept together. ‘On se tirailla faiblement, et
nos troupes se retirèrent sur la route de Sarre.’ With his centre
smashed in, and his right dispersed, Soult could do nothing but
retire. The remains of Clausel’s and Reille’s divisions fell back on
the road to Sarre. D’Erlon, who had never been attacked, could not
use this route, but made his way along the crest of the mountains to
Zagaramurdi, Urdax, and Ainhoue. What would have been his fate if he
had found there not the picquet which (by Wellington’s order) Byng had
thrown forward to Urdax, but the whole of Byng’s and Hill’s troops
blocking his retreat--as would have been the case if the great scheme
drawn up on the night of August 1 had been carried out? But the Pass of
Maya had not been utilized that day, and D’Erlon had only to drive away
50 men.

There was no pursuit: if there had been it would seem that the whole
French army would have broken up, for it had shown itself this day
no longer able to fight. ‘The spirit not only of the men but of the
officers,’ wrote Reille next morning, ‘has been very bad during these
last days. The absolute want of food must be the excuse for this
state of things.’ The condition of the army was deplorable--Maucune’s
division showed less than 1,000 men holding together. The 1st Line of
Vandermaesen’s had precisely 27 men with the eagle--yet had lost only
4 officers and 193 men in action--where were the remaining 400? Other
units could show a few hundred men but absolutely or practically no
officers--the 55th Line of Conroux had lost every one of 13 officers,
the 51st Line of Darmagnac 12 out of 17, the 34th Léger of Maucune
30 out of 35; these were exceptionally hard cases, but in all the
divisions save those of Foy and Abbé (the least engaged during the
short campaign), the proportion was appalling. For the infantry of the
whole army it was 420 casualties among 1,318 officers present. Soult
wrote to Clarke on the last day of the campaign: ‘I deceived myself in
the strangest way when I told your Excellency that the troops had their
morale intact, and would do their duty. I mistook the sentiment of
shame for their recent disaster (Vittoria) for that of steadfastness.
When tested, they started with one furious rush, but showed no power of
resistance.... Since I first entered the service I have seen nothing
like this. It reminded me of the behaviour of the levy _en masse_ of
1792. The spirit of these troops must be terribly broken to have
permitted them to behave in this fashion. One general told me that he
had overheard men remarking, when we were near Pampeluna, that they
had better not fight too hard, because it would be preferable to get
back to the frontier rather than to be led off into the middle of
Spain[1055].’ These were cruel and spiteful words--the army had fought
with excellent courage, till after July 30th it had convinced itself
that the Marshal had got wrong with all his calculations, that the
game was up--that they were being taken on a wild goose chase without
rations in the most desolate and rocky region of Europe. But by August
2 Soult was not far out in his statement--on that day the greater part
of his army was a spent force. If Wellington had resolved to pursue
with vigour, he could have pushed it as far as he pleased. Perhaps the
great encircling scheme with which his mind dallied for a few hours on
the night of August 1 might have resulted in its surrender or complete
dispersion.

This was not to be. On August 3 Wellington halted, and commenced to
rearrange his troops on much the same principles, and in much the
same positions, that he had selected before. He wrote to Graham next
day that he was perfectly well aware of the objection to taking up
a defensive position in the Pyrenees, but that an advance was too
risky[1056]. It was not so much the prospect of the wastage of his
troops, even in successful operation, that deterred him, though this
was the point on which he insisted in his letter to Graham, but the
general political situation of Europe. The eternal Armistice of
Plässwitz was still holding up operations in Germany: it was still
possible that the Allied Sovereigns might make a selfish peace
with Napoleon, and permit the Emperor to expand Soult’s army _ad
infinitum_ with sudden reinforcements. What would then become of
the Anglo-Portuguese host, even if it had won its way not only to
Bayonne but to Bordeaux? All this he had considered, and wrote to the
Secretary for War in Whitehall that ‘as for the immediate invasion
of France, from what I have seen of the state of negotiations in the
North of Europe, I have determined to consider it only in reference to
the convenience of my own operations.... If peace should be made by
the Powers of the North, I must necessarily withdraw into Spain.’ No
advance, however tempting the opportunity, should be made until he was
certain that war had recommenced in Saxony[1057]. Meanwhile, ‘Soult
will not feel any inclination to renew his expeditions--on this side at
least.’

So the army settled down to hold once more the line of the Pyrenees,
and to resume the siege of St. Sebastian. On August 3 the Head-quarters
were once more at Lesaca, as they had been on July 25--how many things
had happened in the interval! Hill and the 2nd Division, now rejoined
by the long-missing brigade of Byng, as also Silveira’s Portuguese,
were in the Maya passes once more. The 3rd Division was holding the
Roncesvalles defiles, the 4th and 7th were at Echalar, the 6th in the
Alduides (replacing Campbell’s Portuguese in that remote valley); the
Light Division lay on the heights opposite Vera. Morillo’s Division was
in the Bastan behind Hill, the part of the Army of Reserve of Andalusia
which O’Donnell had carried to the front, when he left the rest before
Pampeluna, was at the moment near the bridge of Yanzi. The remainder
of that army and Carlos de España were continuing the blockade of
Pampeluna.

The total losses of the Allies during the nine days’ ‘Campaign of the
Pyrenees’ had amounted to slightly over 6,400 officers and men for the
English and Portuguese[1058]. The Spanish loss could not add over 600
more--at Sorauren it was 192; Morillo’s casualties at Altobiscar, and
those of the regiment of Asturias at Yanzi bridge are the only unknown
quantities, and can hardly have reached 400. The distribution among
divisions and corps was odd--the 3rd and Light Division had practically
negligible casualties: the former under 120, the latter under 50. The
main stress fell on the 2nd and 4th Divisions, the former with 2,000
British and 350 Portuguese casualties, the latter with 1,400 and 300
respectively. But it must be remembered that the 2nd Division had
(including Byng) four brigades, the 4th Division only three. Every
unit in both was severely tried; the most terrible return was that
of the 1/92nd with its 26 officers and 445 men killed, wounded, and
missing. But this was a strong battalion of 750 bayonets, and I am not
sure that the 284 casualties of the 20th and the 296 casualties of the
3/27th, both in the 4th Division, do not represent almost as great a
proportional loss, as these were both much smaller corps.

The 6th Division was engaged on two days only, at the two battles
of Sorauren, and had the appreciable number of 450 British and 370
Portuguese casualties. The 7th Division fought on three days--at second
Sorauren, at the Combat of the Venta de Urroz, and at Echalar, and
three of its battalions also saved the day at Maya--with a loss in all
of 750 British but only 60 Portuguese. Lastly, we must name the two
Portuguese brigades of Silveira’s division, of which Campbell’s fought
at Sorauren, Da Costa’s at Beunza, with a loss to the former of 350 and
to the latter of 280 men. The general fact emerges that the 2nd and 4th
Divisions lost between them 4,350 men out of the total 7,000--no other
division had so many as 1,000 casualties.

The official list of French losses is not quite complete, as it
includes only the infantry and cavalry units--but such casualties
as may have been suffered by the general staff, the artillery (very
little engaged) sappers, and train can have added comparatively
little to the total, though a good many men of the train were taken
at Yanzi on August 1. The figures given work out to 12,563--1,308
killed, 8,545 wounded, and 2,710 prisoners. The last-named total should
probably be brought up to 3,000 in order to include individuals of the
non-combatant corps captured in the retreat. The divisions suffered
in very unequal measure: Foy and Abbé got off very lightly, because
the one was practically not engaged at first Sorauren, nor the latter
at Maya--they lost respectively only 550 and 750 men. Vandermaesen’s
and Maucune’s Divisions--each a small unit of only 4,000 men, had the
crushing losses of 1,480 and 1,850 respectively, and were dissolved
when the campaign was over, and re-formed to a large extent with
battalions drawn from the Bayonne reserve. Darmagnac and Conroux
each lost well over 2,000 men out of 7,000--their divisions having
been terribly cut up, the one at Maya the other at Sorauren. Maransin
and Taupin each return over 1,000 men lost out of 6,000; Lamartinière
just under 1,000 out of 7,000. The cavalry, barely engaged and quite
useless, had only 67 casualties to report.

But to get at Soult’s fighting strength on the last day of the retreat,
it is not sufficient merely to deduct the 12,563 casualties from the
59,000 which took the field in Navarre. The eight divisions collected
on the 2nd August were short not only of their own casualties, but of
Foy’s division, which had gone off on an eccentric line of retreat, as
had several smaller detachments[1059]. But the great deficit was that
of at least 8,000 or 10,000 stragglers, who rejoined at their leisure
during the next ten days. The cavalry and artillery had all gone to the
rear, and it is doubtful if the last stand at Echalar was made with so
many as 25,000 weary infantry. If the Marshal had been faced with an
opponent who had no political _arrière pensée_ to hold him back, he
would have been doomed to absolute destruction. Only a wreck of his
army would have escaped, and Wellington might have driven the remnants
as far as he pleased--even to the gates of Bordeaux.

But the British General had made his ‘great refusal’ on the night of
August 1st-2nd, and had resolved that the tempting scheme for invading
France, which had flitted before his eyes for a few evening hours,
must be postponed. He would risk nothing till he should get certain
information that the war had begun again in Germany. And as the news
of the rupture of the Armistice did not reach him till September 3rd,
he was condemned to another month of waiting. He turned back to his
old policy of June--St. Sebastian and Pampeluna must be reduced. When
they should have fallen, it would be time enough to see whether the
general European situation had made the invasion of France a feasible
enterprise.

APPENDICES

BRITISH LOSSES AT THE SIEGE OF BURGOS SEPTEMBER 20-OCTOBER 21, 1812

Sept. 20th, storm of the Hornwork of St. Michael. Total casualties
421 (of whom the 42nd lost 2 officers and 33 men killed, 5 officers
and 164 men wounded = 204; the 79th lost 5 men killed, 2 officers
and 32 men wounded = 39; the Portuguese lost 3 officers and 17 men
killed, 5 officers and 88 men wounded = 113; the other 67 casualties
were divided among the remaining battalions of the 1st Division).

Sept. 21st, casualties 42; Sept. 22nd, 39; Sept. 23, 158 (of which
76 in the Guards Brigade and 44 in the K.G.L. brigade of the 1st
Division, and 29 among the Portuguese).

Sept. 24th, casualties 39; Sept. 25th, 38; Sept. 26th, 32; Sept.
27th, 53; Sept. 28th, 26; Sept. 29th, 9; Sept. 30th, 29; Oct. 1st,
11; Oct. 2nd, 29; Oct. 3rd, 9; Oct. 4th, 16; Oct. 5th, 224 (of these
224, which really belong to the storm of the outer enceinte on the
evening of Oct. 4th, the 2/24th had 68 casualties, no other battalion
more than 15).

Oct. 6th, casualties (French sortie of night of 5th) 142; Oct. 7th,
33; Oct. 8th (2nd French sortie in which 133 in the K.G.L. Brigade
were killed or wounded), 184; Oct. 9th, 18; Oct. 10th, 61; Oct. 11th,
24; Oct. 12th, 17; Oct. 13th, 9; Oct. 14th, 3; Oct. 15th, 18; Oct.
16th, 12; Oct. 17th, 18; Oct. 18th, 48; Oct. 19th (the last assault),
170 (of whom 85 in the Guards Brigade and 84 in the K.G.L. Brigade of
the 1st Division).

Oct. 20th, 47; Oct. 21st, 9.

GENERAL TOTAL: 24 officers and 485 men killed
68 ” ” 1,445 ” wounded
42 ” missing = 2,064

THE FRENCH ARMIES IN SPAIN: OCTOBER 15, 1812

[From the return in the _Archives Nationales_, Paris.]

I. ARMY OF THE SOUTH. MARSHAL SOULT

_Officers._ _Men._
1st Division, Conroux: 9th Léger, 24th, 96th Line
(each 3 batts.): 3 battalions Marine Troops 203 5,615
2nd Division, Barrois[1060]: 8th Line, 16th Léger, 51st,
54th Line (each 3 batts.) 201 4,801

3rd Division, Villatte: 27th Léger, 63rd, 94th, 95th Line
(each 3 batts.) 209 5,888
4th Division, Leval: 32nd, 43rd Line (4 batts. each),
55th, 58th Line (3 batts. each) 259 7,794
5th Division, D’Erlon[1061]: 12th Léger (4 batts.), 45th
Line (3 batts.), 28th Léger, 88th Line (2 batts. each) 202 5,016
6th Division, Daricau: 21st Léger, 100th Line (3 batts.
each), 64th, 103rd Line (2 batts. each) 187 4,308
Cavalry Division, Perreymond: 2nd Hussars, 5th, 10th,
21st, 27th Chasseurs, 7th Lancers (in all, 20 squad.) 144 2,349
Cavalry Division, Digeon: 2nd, 4th, 14th, 17th, 26th,
27th Dragoons (in all, 20 squadrons) 148 2,956
Cavalry Division, Pierre Soult: 5th, 12th, 16th, 21st
Dragoons (14 squadrons) 121 1,712
Artillery, and Artillery Train and Park 122 3,511
Engineers and Sappers 17 851
Gendarmerie and Équipages Militaires 9 592
État-Major 313 --
----- ------
Total present 1,816 45,393

Gross total of Army including 64 officers and 1,904 men
detached, and 60 officers and 6,293 men in hospital: 1,940 53,590

II. ARMY OF THE CENTRE
_Officers._ _Men._

The King’s French Guards: no figures given, but about 2,500
Darmagnac’s Division: 28th and 75th Line (3 batts.
each), 2nd Nassau and Baden (2 batts. each),
Frankfort (1 batt.) 199 5,039
Palombini’s Division: 4th and 6th Italian Line (2 batts.
each), 2nd Italian Léger (3 batts.), Dragoons of
Napoleon and two batteries 142 3,050
Casapalacios’ Spanish Division (3 batts., 3 squadrons) 167 1,263
Treillard’s Cavalry Division: 13th, 18th, 19th, 22nd
Dragoons, Westphalian _chevaux légers_, Nassau
_chasseurs_ 114 1,679
Artillery, Engineers, and Train 12 596
Various detachments 12 403
--- ------
Total present 646 14,530

Gross total of Army, including État-Major 55 officers,
32 officers and 655 men detached, and 14 officers
and 1,900 men sick, is 747 17,075

III. ARMY OF PORTUGAL. GENERAL SOUHAM
_Officers._ _Men._
1st Division, Foy: 6th Léger (1 batt.), 39th, 69th,
76th Line (2 batts. each) 151 3,492
2nd Division, Clausel: 25th Léger, 27th, 50th, 59th
Line (2 batts. each) 130 4,506
3rd Division, Taupin [late Ferey], 31st Léger, 26th,
70th Line (2 batts. each), 47th Line (3 batts.) 184 6,064
4th Division, Sarrut: 2nd and 4th Léger, 36th Line
(2 batts. each) 130 4,000
5th Division, Maucune: 15th, 66th, 82nd, 86th Line
(2 batts. each) 165 5,097
6th Division, Pinoteau [late Brenier]: 17th Léger,
65th Line (2 batts. each), 22nd Line (1 batt.) 87 2,730
7th Division, Bonté [late Thomières]: 1st and 62nd Line
(2 batts. each), 101st Line (1 batt.) 109 2,425
8th Division, Chauvel [late Bonnet]: 118th, 119th,
120th Line (2 batts. each), 122nd Line (3 batts.) 180 4,437
(Each infantry division includes its artillery and train.)
Cavalry Division, Curto: 3rd Hussars, 13th, 14th,
22nd, 26th, 28th Chasseurs 115 2,048
Cavalry Division, Boyer: 6th, 11th, 15th, 25th Dragoons 70 1,303
Horse Artillery and train attached to cavalry 5 292
Artillery Reserve and Park 37 1,822
Engineers 7 274
Gendarmerie and Équipages Militaires 33 1,102
Attached to the Army of Portugal--
Cavalry Brigade, Merlin, of the Army of the North,
1st Hussars, 31st Chasseurs 53 693
Infantry Brigade, Aussenac, detached from the
Bayonne Reserve: 3rd and 105th Line (2 batts.
each), 64th, 100th, 103rd (1 batt. each) 110 3,308
----- ------
Total present 1,566 43,860

Gross total of Army with 150 officers and 4,574 men
detached, and 53 officers and 11,113 men in hospital: 1,769 59,547
--------------
61,316

IV. ARMY OF ARAGON AND VALENCIA. MARSHAL SUCHET

_Officers._ _Men._
1st Division, Musnier: 1st Léger (3 batts.), 114th
Line (2 batts.), 121st Line (3 batts.), Neapolitans
(2 batts.) 180 5,403
2nd Division, Harispe: 7th, 44th, 116th Line (2 batts.
each) 104 4,011
3rd Division, Habert: 14th, 16th Line (2 batts. each),
117th Line (3 batts.) 158 4,817
Cavalry Division, Boussard: 14th Cuirassiers, 24th
Dragoons, 4th Hussars, 1st Neapolitan Chasseurs 91 1,831
Artillery and train 21 858
Engineers 11 411
Gendarmerie and Équipages Militaires 6 529

TROOPS ATTACHED TO THE ARMY OF ARAGON

Reille’s Division: 10th Line (4 batts.), 81st (3 batts.),
9th _bis_ of Hussars, artillery 147 4,393
Severoli’s Division: 1st Italian Line and 1st Italian
Léger (2 batts. each), 5th Léger (French) (1 batt.),
and Italian artillery 151 3,758
Brigade from Catalonia: 3rd Léger, 11th, 20th Line
(2 batts. each), 1st Italian Chasseurs 130 3,719
----- ------
Total present 1,038 30,980

Gross total of Army, including 131 officers and 3,884 men
detached, and 24 officers and 4,287 men in hospital: 1,193 39,151

V. ARMY OF THE NORTH. GENERAL CAFFARELLI

_Officers._ _Men._
Division Abbé: 5th Léger (3 batts.), 10th Léger, 3rd,
52nd, 105th Line (2 batts. each), 20th Dragoons, and
artillery 219 6,378
Division Vandermaesen: 34th Léger (1 batt.), 34th,
40th Line (3 batts. each), 113th, 130th Line (2 batts.
each), 4th Suisse (1 batt.), 6 _bataillons de marche_
= 18 battalions in all 388 12,197
Brigade Dumoustier: 4 batts. Young Guard, and 2 of
National Guards 100 3,976
Cavalry Brigade Laferrière: Lancers of Berg (2 squadrons),
15th Chasseurs (3 squadrons), Gendarmerie (6 squadrons) 37 1,625
Government of Navarre (garrison of Pampeluna) detachments 45 1,644
Government of Biscay, all _régiments de marche_ and
detachments 264 9,431
Government of Castile (garrison of Santoña) detachments 43 1,342
------ ------
Total present 1,151 36,465

Gross total of Army, including 41 officers and 5,176 men
in hospital, is 1,192 41,641

VI. ARMY OF CATALONIA. GENERAL DECAEN

_Officers._ _Men._
Division Quesnel (at Puycerda), 102nd Line (2 batts.),
116th Line (1 batt.), and detachments 123 3,502

Division Lamarque: 60th and 79th Line (3 batts. each),
Regiment of Wurzburg, and detachments 137 3,491

Brigade Petit: 67th Line (3 batts.), 32nd Léger (1 batt.) 66 1,553

Division Maurice Mathieu (Barcelona): 115th Line
(4 batts.), 18th Léger (2 batts.), 1st of Nassau
(2 batts.), and detachments 185 6,180

Garrisons of Figueras, &c.: 60th, 86th Line, and 32nd
Léger (1 batt. each), and detachments 160 3,646

Garrison of Tarragona (Bertoletti): 20th Line (1 batt.),
7th Italian Line (1 batt.) 63 1,451

Garrison of Lerida (Henriod): 42nd Line (3 batts.),
and detachments 70 1,639

Brigade Espert (flying column): 5th Line (3 batts.),
23rd Léger (2 batts.) 89 2,988

Artillery, Sappers, Gendarmes, Équipages Militaires, &c. 55 4,194
--- ------
Total present, under arms 948 28,514

Gross total of Army, including 107 État-Major, 26 officers
and 369 men detached, and 44 officers and 6,045 men
in hospital, is 1,125 34,928

VII. BAYONNE RESERVE

_Officers._ _Men._
All consisting of detachments or _régiments de marche_ 172 7,072
Adding 134 detached and 600 in hospital, gross total is: 7,978

Total Army of Spain, therefore, on October 15 amounts to:
7,516 officers, 206,814 men present with the colours
326 ” 11,520 ” detached
236 ” 35,414 ” in hospital.

GENERAL GROSS TOTAL = 8,185 officers and 253,748 men.

III

STRENGTH OF WELLINGTON’S ARMY DURING AND AFTER THE BURGOS RETREAT

The subjoined statistics show the marching strength of the
Anglo-Portuguese divisions of Wellington’s army at the commencement of
the Burgos Retreat (Oct. 23) and some days after its termination (Nov.
29). There had been, immediately after the army reached Ciudad Rodrigo,
certain transferences of units from one division to another, which are
duly noted. The figures give only rank and file; to get the fighting
strength one-eighth should be added to cover officers, sergeants, and
drummers.

_Present _Present
under arms. under arms.
Oct. 23._ Nov. 29._

1st Cavalry Division 2,827 2,909 (2nd Hussars K.G.L.
has joined.)
2nd Cavalry Division 1,947 1,625 (2nd Hussars K.G.L.
has left.)
1st Division 3,970 4,002 (1st & 3rd battalions
First Guards have
joined, but Stirling’s
brigade has been
transferred to the
6th Division.)
2nd Division 7,915 6,591
3rd Division 4,229 3,860 (2/87th from Cadiz
has joined.)
4th Division 4,487 3,861 (1/82nd has joined.)
5th Division 3,638 3,732 (2/47th from Cadiz
has joined.)
6th Division 3,380 5,228 (The division has been
joined by Stirling’s
brigade and also by
the 1/91st.)
7th Division 4,298 3,358
Light Division 3,428 3,775 (2 companies 3/95th
and the 20th Portuguese
have joined.)
Hamilton’s Portuguese Division 4,719 4,076
Pack’s Portuguese Brigade 1,681 1,105
Bradford’s Portuguese Brigade 1,645 881
------ ------
48,124 45,003

Artillery, Train, Staff Corps, &c. 2,500 2,300

The fall in numbers would have been much greater but for the joining
of Skerrett’s force from Cadiz (3/1st Guards, 2/47th, 2/87th, 20th
Portuguese, and two companies 3/95th) and of the 1/1st Guards and
1/91st from England, and the 1/82nd from Gibraltar--in all, nearly
6,000 men.

It may be worth while to give here the statistics of the Spanish troops
which were acting with Wellington’s and Hill’s armies during this
period. They were by their October morning states:

‘6th Army’ or Galicians (Santocildes):

1st Division (Barcena) 6,810 (5 of the 15 battalions of this
division were not at the front.)
2nd Division (Cabrera) 4,749
3rd Division (Losada) 4,213
Cavalry Brigade (Figuelmonde) 1,356 (5 of the 9 squadrons of this
brigade were not at the front.)

5th Army (Estremadurans and Castilian):

Morillo’s Division 2,371 (Acting with Hill’s Corps.)
Carlos de España’s Division 3,809 (ditto.)
Penne Villemur’s cavalry 992 (ditto.)
Julian Sanchez’s cavalry 1,159 (Acting with Main Army.)
------
Total Spanish troops 25,459

LOSSES IN THE BURGOS RETREAT

The casualties in action between October 23rd and November 19th are
easily ascertainable, and quite moderate. But the loss in ‘missing’ by
the capture of stragglers, marauders, and footsore men, was much higher
than is generally known. I believe that the annexed table, from the
morning state of November 29th, is now published for the first time.
It gives only the _rank and file_ missing, but these are almost the
whole list: officers and sergeants did not straggle or drop behind like
the privates. I believe that the total of officers missing was 25, of
sergeants 56 British and 29 Portuguese: we have also to add 43 British
and 32 Portuguese drummers, &c., to the general list, which runs as
follows:

_British._ _Portuguese._ _Total._
1st Cavalry Division 192 -- 192
2nd Cavalry Division 101 8 109
1st Division Infantry 283 -- 283
2nd Division Infantry 302 260 562
3rd Division Infantry 184 230 414
4th Division Infantry 308 19 327
5th Division Infantry 453 359 812
6th Division Infantry 96 74 170
7th Division Infantry 357 243 600
Light Division Infantry 92 163 253
Portuguese. Hamilton’s Division -- 221 221
Portuguese. Pack’s Brigade. -- 293 293
Portuguese. Bradford’s Brigade -- 514 514
----- ----- -----
Total 2,368 2,374 4,752

The abnormally high totals of the 5th Division and 7th Division are to
be accounted for in different ways. The former had 150 prisoners taken
in action on the day of the combat of Villa Muriel (October 25); the
latter contained the two battalions that always gave a high percentage
of deserters, the foreign regiments of Brunswick-Oels and _Chasseurs
Britanniques_. It will be noted that the 2nd Division has also a high
total, but as it had nearly double the numbers of any other division
(7,500 men to an average 4,000 for the others) it did not lose out of
proportion to its strength. It will be noted that the Portuguese lost
more heavily in relation to their total numbers than the British--their
‘missing’ were about the same as those of the British, but they only
had about 20,000 rank and file in the field as against about 30,000
British. This excessive loss in missing was due entirely to the fact
that the cold and rain of the last ten days of the retreat told much
more heavily upon them. They were not so well clothed or fed as the
British, and fell behind from exhaustion. Bradford’s brigade, though
never seriously in action, lost 500 men out of 1,600 by the roadside,
much the heaviest percentage in the whole army.

The losses in killed and wounded as opposed to ‘missing’ seem to make
up the following moderate figures, to which the heavy fighting about
Venta del Pozo and Villa Muriel during the first days of the retreat
made much the heaviest contribution.

Killed: 9 officers, 189 men. Wounded: 54 officers, 699 men--i. e. the
total of 951. This does not, of course, include the _prisoners_ taken
at Venta del Pozo or Villa Muriel, who are counted among the ‘missing’
reckoned in the prefixed table. The losses in killed and wounded at
Alba de Tormes and San Muñoz are less than might have been expected;
those in the other skirmishes at Valladolid, Tordesillas, &c., quite
negligible.

THE CAMPAIGN OF CASTALLA: APRIL 1813

Sir John Murray reports his army to have consisted of the following
elements:

Infantry: British, German, Anglo-Italian, Calabrese 8,274 officers and men
Sicilian ‘Estero’ Regiment 1,136 ” ”
Whittingham’s Spanish Division (6 batts.) 3,901 ” ”
Roche’s Spanish Division (5 batts.) 4,019 ” ”
Cavalry: British, Spanish, and Sicilian 886 ” ”
Artillery, &c. 500 ” ”
------
18,716 ” ”

The units appear to have been brigaded as follows:
Advance Guard, General Adam: 2/27th, 1st Italian Levy, Calabrese Free
Corps, Rifle Companies of 3rd and 8th K.G.L.
J. Mackenzie’s Division: 1/27th, 4th and 6th Line K.G.L., Sicilian
Estero Regiment (2 batts.).
Clinton’s Division: 1/10th, 1/58th, 1/81st, De Roll-Dillon, 2nd
Italian Levy.
Cavalry: 20th Light Dragoon (2 squadrons), Foreign Hussars (1 troop),
1st Sicilian Cavalry, four Spanish squadrons[1062].
Whittingham’s Spaniards: Cordova, Mallorca, Guadalajara, 2nd of
Burgos, 5th Grenadiers, 2nd of Murcia.
Roche’s Spaniards: Volunteers of Aragon, Alicante, Chinchilla,
Volunteers of Valencia, Canarias.
Artillery: British companies of Holcombe, Thompson, Williamson and
Lacy; Portuguese company of Cox, one Sicilian company (three of these
companies were holding the forts of Alicante).

SUCHET’S ARMY AT CASTALLA: APRIL 13, 1813

[RETURN OF APRIL 1.]

_Officers._ _Men._ _Total._
1st Division, General Robert [for Musnier, absent]:
1st Léger (2 batts.) 38 1,443 1,481
114th Ligne (2 batts.) 36 1,498 1,534
121st Ligne (2 batts.) 34 1,252 1,286
3rd Léger (2 batts.)[1063] 16 767 783
--- ----- -----
124 4,960 5,084
2nd Division, General Harispe:
7th Ligne (2 batts.) 31 1,298 1,329
44th Ligne (2 batts.) 26 1,160 1,186
116th Ligne (2 batts.) 35 1,502 1,537
--- ----- -----
92 3,960 4,052
3rd Division, General Habert:
14th Ligne (2 batts.) 42 1,189 1,231
1/16th Ligne[1064] 21 614 635
1/117th Ligne[1064] 27 829 856
--- ----- -----
90 2,632 2,722
Cavalry, General Boussard:
Two squadrons 4th Hussars 21 408 429
13th Cuirassiers 25 523 548
24th Dragoons (2 squadrons) 20 427 447
--- ----- -----
66 1,358 1,424

Artillery: four batteries 10 282 292
--- ----- ------
TOTAL 376 13,192 13,568

VII

BIAR AND CASTALLA LOSSES: APRIL 12-13, 1813

_Killed._ _Wounded._ _Missing._
_Off._ _Men._ _Off._ _Men._ _Off._ _Men._ _Total._

Staff 1 -- 2 -- -- -- 3
Adam’s Brigade:
2/27th Foot -- 18 2 90 -- 2 112
1st Italian Levy 23 3 49 -- 28 103
Calabrese Free Corps -- 8 2 49 -- -- 59
Rifle Companies 3rd & 8th K.G.L. 1 7 2 23 -- 2 35
Mackenzie’s Division:
1/27th Foot -- 2 -- 18 -- -- 20
4th Line K.G.L. -- 3 -- 9 -- -- 12
6th Line K.G.L. -- 1 -- 5 -- -- 6
Sicilian ‘Estero’ Regiment -- 1 -- 8 -- -- 9
Clinton’s Division:
1/58th Foot -- 1 -- 5 -- -- 6
De Roll-Dillon -- 4 1 20 -- 9 34
Whittingham’s Spanish Division:
Cordova, Mallorca, Guadalajara,
2nd Burgos, 5th Grenadiers,
2nd of Murcia 2 73 4 183 -- -- 262
20th Light Dragoons -- -- -- 1 -- -- 1
Sicilian Cavalry -- -- -- -- -- 1 1
R.A. and drivers -- -- -- 5 -- -- 5
Portuguese Artillery -- -- -- 3 -- -- 3
-------------------------------------------------
TOTAL 4 141 16 468 -- 42 671

VIII

WELLINGTON’S ARMY IN THE VITTORIA CAMPAIGN

MARCHING STRENGTH, MAY 25, 1813[1065]

CAVALRY
_Officers._ _Men._ _Total._
R. Hill’s Brigade: 1st & 2nd Life Guards, Horse
Guards 42 828 870
Ponsonby’s Brigade: 5th Dragoon Guards, 3rd &
4th Dragoons 61 1,177 1,238
G. Anson’s Brigade: 12th & 16th Light Dragoons 39 780 819
Long’s Brigade: 13th Light Dragoons 20 374 394
V. Alten’s Brigade: 14th Light Dragoons, 1st
Hussars K.G.L. 49 956 1,005
Bock’s Brigade: 1st & 2nd Dragoons K.G.L. 38 594 632
Fane’s Brigade: 3rd Dragoon Guards, 1st Dragoons 42 800 842
Grant’s Brigade: 10th, 15th, 18th Hussars 63 1,561 1,624
D’Urban’s Portuguese Brigade: 1st, 11th, 12th
Cavalry -- 685 685
6th Portuguese Cavalry (Campbell) -- 208 208

Cavalry Total 354 7,963 8,317

INFANTRY
_Officers._ _Men._ _Total._
1st Division, General Howard:[1066]
Stopford’s Brigade: 1st Coldstream, 1st Scots }
Guards, one company 5/60th 56 1,672 }
Halkett’s Brigade: 1st, 2nd, 5th Line K.G.L., } 4,854
1st & 2nd Light K.G.L. 133 2,993 }

2nd Division, Sir Rowland Hill:
Cadogan’s Brigade: 1/50th, 1/71st, 1/92nd, one }
company 5/60th 120 2,657 }
Byng’s Brigade: 1/3rd, 1/57th, 1st Prov. }
Batt.,[1067] one company 5/60th 131 2,334 } 10,834
O’Callaghan’s Brigade: 1/28th, 2/34th, 1/39th, }
one company 5/60th 122 2,408 }
Ashworth’s Portuguese: 6th & 18th Line, 6th }
Caçadores -- 3,062 }

3rd Division, General Sir Thomas Picton:
Brisbane’s Brigade: 1/45th, 74th, 1/88th, three }
companies 5/60th 125 2,598 }
Colville’s Brigade: 1/5th, 2/83rd, 2/87th, 94th 120 2,156 } 7,437
Power’s Portuguese Brigade: 9th & 21st Line, }
11th Caçadores -- 2,460 }

4th Division, General Sir G. Lowry Cole:
W. Anson’s Brigade: 3/27th, 1/40th, 1/48th, }
2nd Prov. Batt.,[1068] one company 5/60th 139 2,796 }
Skerrett’s Brigade: 1/7th, 20th, 1/23rd, one }
company Brunswick 123 1,926 } 7,816
Stubbs’s Portuguese Brigade: 11th & 23rd Line, }
7th Caçadores -- 2,842 }

5th Division, General Oswald [for General Leith]:
Hay’s Brigade: 3/1st, 1/9th, 1/38th, one company }
Brunswick 109 2,183 }
Robinson’s Brigade: 1/4th, 2/47th, 2/59th, one }
company Brunswick 100 1,961 } 6,725
Spry’s Portuguese Brigade: 3rd & 15th Line, 8th }
Caçadores -- 2,372 }

6th Division, General Pakenham [for General Clinton]:
Stirling’s Brigade: 1/42nd, 1/79th, 1/91st, one }
company 5/60th 127 2,327 }
Hinde’s Brigade: 1/11th, 1/32nd, 1/36th, 1/61st 130 2,288 } 7,347
Madden’s Portuguese Brigade: 8th & 12th Line, }
9th Caçadores -- 2,475 }

7th Division, General Lord Dalhousie:
Barnes’s Brigade: 1/6th, 3rd Prov. Batt.[1069], }
nine companies Brunswick-Oels 116 2,206 }
Grant’s Brigade: 51st, 68th, 1/82nd, Chasseurs }
Britanniques 141 2,397 } 7,287
Lecor’s Portuguese Brigade: 7th & 19th Line, }
2nd Caçadores -- 2,437 }

Light Division, General Charles Alten:
Kempt’s Brigade: 1/43rd, 1st & 3rd/95th 98 1,979 }
Vandeleur’s Brigade: 1/52nd, 2/95th 63 1,399 } 5,484
Portuguese 17th Line, 1st & 3rd Caçadores -- 1,945 }

Silveira’s Portuguese Division:
Da Costa’s Brigade: 2nd & 14th Line -- 2,492 }
A. Campbell’s Brigade: 4th & 10th Line, 10th } 5,287
Caçadores -- 2,795 }

Pack’s Portuguese Brigade: 1st & 16th Line, 4th
Caçadores -- 2,297 2,297

Bradford’s Portuguese Brigade: 13th & 24th Line,
5th Caçadores -- 2,392 2,392

R.H.A. and Drivers 23 780
Field Artillery, Train, Ammunition column, &c. 100 2,722
K.G.L. Artillery 17 335
Portuguese Artillery -- 330
Engineers and Sappers 41 302
Staff Corps 21 126
Wagon Train 37 165

_British._ _Portuguese._ _Total._
Total Cavalry 7,424 893 8,317
” 1st Division 4,854 -- 4,854
” 2nd Division 7,772 3,062 10,834
” 3rd Division 4,977 2,460 7,437
” 4th Division 4,974 2,842 7,816
” 5th Division 4,353 2,372 6,725
” 6th Division 4,872 2,475 7,347
” 7th Division 4,850 2,437 7,287
” Light Division 3,539 1,945 5,484
” Silveira’s Division -- 5,287 5,287
” Pack’s and Bradford’s Brigades -- 4,689 4,689
” Artillery and Train 3,977 330 4,307
” Engineers, Staff Corps, &c. 892 -- 892
------ ------ ------
52,484 28,792 81,276

This is, I believe, the first complete return of Wellington’s army in
the Vittoria campaign ever published. My predecessors in Peninsular
history sought in vain for the ‘morning states’ which should have
accompanied Wellington’s dispatches to Lord Bathurst, and which are
mentioned in those dispatches. In previous years, down to December
1812, they are generally found annexed to the covering letter, in the
bound volumes at the Record Office. I should have fared no better than
other seekers, but for the admirable knowledge of the contents of the
Office possessed by Mr. Leonard Atkinson. He remembered that there
existed some separate packages of ‘morning states’, which had been
divorced from the rest of Wellington’s sendings, and not bound up with
them. When sought, they turned out to be the missing figures of 1813,
tied up unbound between two covers of cardboard. Mr. Atkinson’s happy
discovery enables me to give the prefixed statistics, which permit us
to know Wellington’s exact strength just as the campaign of Vittoria
was starting.

SPANISH TROOPS UNDER WELLINGTON’S COMMAND JUNE-JULY 1813

STATES OF JUNE 1

I. FOURTH ARMY (GENERAL GIRON)
_Officers._ _Men._ _Total._
Morillo’s Division 172 4,379 4,551
Losada’s Galician Division (6 batts.) 295 5,560 5,855
P. Barcena’s Galician Division (7 batts.) 235 4,908 5,143
Porlier’s Asturian Division (3 batts.) 124 2,284 2,408
Longa’s Division (5 batts.) 130 3,000 3,130
Penne Villemur’s Cavalry (7 regts.) 194 2,434 2,628
Julian Sanchez’s Cavalry (2 regts.) 90 1,200 1,290
Artillery 20 400 420
----- ------ ------
Total of June 1 1,263 24,165 25,425

II. LEFT IN CASTILE, REJOINED ON JULY 28

Carlos de España’s division of 4th Army
(5 batts.) 175 3,167 3,342

III. JOINED ON JULY 16

THE ‘ARMY OF RESERVE OF ANDALUSIA’ (CONDE DE ABISPAL)

Echevarri’s Division (7 batts.) 237 6,380 6,617
Creagh’s Division (7 batts.) 273 6,181 6,454
C. G. Barcena’s Cavalry Brigade (2 regts.) 39 789 828
Artillery 10 274 284
--- ------ ------
Total of later arrivals 734 16,791 17,525

The General Total of the Spanish troops which actually joined
Wellington between May 26 and July 28 was therefore 46,292. This does
not include Mina’s irregulars operating in Aragon and Eastern Navarre.

THE FRENCH ARMY AT VITTORIA

ARMY OF THE SOUTH. RETURN OF MAY 29, 1813.

[From Paris Archives, lent me by Mr. Fortescue.]

_Officers._ _Men._ _Total._
1st Division, Leval:
Brigade Mocquery: 9th Léger, 24th Line 63 2,516 2,579
Brigade Morgan: 88th Line, 96th Line 43 2,056 2,099
Divisional battery and train 3 163 166
--- ----- -----
Divisional Total 109 4,735 4,844

2nd Division, Cassagne: lent to Army of the Centre.
3rd Division, Villatte:
Brigade Rignoux: 27th Léger, 63rd Line 39 2,539 2,578
Brigade Lefol: 94th Line, 95th Line 50 3,063 3,113
Divisional battery and train 4 179 182
-- ----- -----
Divisional Total 93 5,781 5,874

4th Division, Conroux:
Brigade Rey: 32nd and 43rd Line 78 3,591 3,669
Brigade Schwitter: 55th and 58th Line 47 2,670 2,717
Divisional battery and train 4 189 193
--- ----- -----
Divisional Total 129 6,460 6,589

5th Division, brigade Maransin only:
12th Léger, 45th Line 58 2,869 2,927

6th Division, Daricau:
Brigade St. Pol: 21st Léger, 100th Line 53 2,658 2,711
Brigade Remond: 28th Léger, 103rd Line 45 2,939 2,984
Divisional battery and train 3 237 240
--- ----- -----
Total 101 5,834 5,935

TOTAL 4½ INFANTRY DIVISIONS 490 25,679 26,169

Cavalry:

Pierre Soult’s Division:
2nd Hussars, 5th, 10th, 21st Chasseurs 74 1,428 1,502
One battery H.A. and train 4 165 169

Tilly’s Division:
2nd, 4th, 14th, 17th, 26th, 27th Dragoons 88 1,841 1,929

Digeon’s Division:
5th, 12th, 16th, 21st Dragoons 80 1,612 1,692
One battery H.A. and train 3 174 177
--- ----- -----
Total cavalry 249 6,220 6,469

Artillery Reserve: two batteries and train 5 365 370
Artillery Park: two companies Field Artillery,
one company pontoniers, artificers, train 17 696 713
Engineers: two companies sappers, two miners,
and train 11 619 630
Gendarmerie 4 101 105
Wagon train 2 63 65
--- ----- -----
Total auxiliary troops 39 1,844 1,883

État-Major of the Army and the divisions 115 -- 115

GENERAL TOTAL OF ARMY OF THE SOUTH 893 33,743 34,636

ARMY OF THE CENTRE AT VITTORIA

RETURN OF MAY 29 FOR CASSAGNE’S DIVISION; OF MAY 1 ONLY FOR THE REST,
EXCEPT FOR THE ROYAL GUARDS AND SPANIARDS, AS SEE NOTE.

_Officers._ _Men._ _Total._
1st Division, Darmagnac:
Brigade Chassé: 28th & 75th Line 35 1,759 1,794
Brigade Neuenstein: 2nd Nassau, 4th Baden,
Frankfort 101 2,577 2,678
--- ----- -----
Divisional Total 136 4,336 4,472

2nd Division, Cassagne:
Brigade Braun: 16th Léger, 8th Line }
Brigade Blondeau: 51st Line, 54th Line } 95 5,114 5,209
--- ----- -----
Total Infantry 231 9,450 9,681

Cavalry:
Treillard’s Division: 13th, 18th, 19th,
22nd Dragoons 44 994 1,038
Avy’s Light Cavalry: 27th Chasseurs,
Nassau Chasseurs 22 452 474
--- ----- -----
Total Cavalry 66 1,446 1,512

Artillery (3 batteries) and train 13 488 501
Engineers (1 company sappers) 2 129 131
Wagon train, &c. 3 195 198
--- ----- -----
Total Auxiliary Arms 28 812 830

The King’s Spanish Army:[1070]
Royal Guards, General Guy:
Grenadiers, tirailleurs, voltigeurs
of the Guard 80 2,300 2,380
Hussars and Lancers of the Guard 25 400 425

Line:
Regiments of Castile, Toledo,
_Royal Étranger_ 70 2,000 2,070
Cavalry: 1st & 2nd Chasseurs, Hussars
of Guadalajara 70 600 670
Artillery: one battery 3 90 93
--- ----- -----
Total King’s Army 248 5,390 5,633

TOTAL ARMY OF THE CENTRE 603 17,098 17,691

ARMY OF PORTUGAL

NO RETURN AVAILABLE LATER THAN MAY 1.

_Officers._ _Men._ _Total._
4th Division, Sarrut:
Brigade Fririon: 2nd Léger, 36th Line }
Brigade Menne: 4th Léger, 65th Line } 146 4,656 4,802
Divisional field battery and train }

6th Division, Lamartinière:
Brigade Gauthier: 118th Line, 119th Line 71 2,496 2,567
Brigade Menne: 120th Line, 122nd Line 102 3,866 3,968
Divisional field battery and train 3 173 176
--- ------ ------
Total Infantry Divisions 322 11,191 11,513

Cavalry:
Division Mermet:
Brigade Curto: 13th & 22nd Chasseurs 39 863 902
Brigade ? : 3rd Hussars, 14th &
26th Chasseurs 42 857 899
Division Boyer:
6th, 11th, 15th, 25th Dragoons 67 1,404 1,471
--- ----- -----
Total Cavalry 148 3,324 3,472

Reserve Artillery:
One H.A., four field batteries 11 379 390
One company Pontoniers, train,
artificers, &c. 10 763 773
Engineers: two companies sappers 5 190 195
Gendarmerie 5 169 174
Wagon train, mule train, &c. 35 898 933
--- ----- -----
Total auxiliary arms 66 2,389 2,455

GENERAL TOTAL OF ARMY OF PORTUGAL 536 16,904 17,440

Allowing for wastage May 1 to June 21, there may probably have been
14,000 of all arms at Vittoria--say 9,500 infantry, 2,800 cavalry,
1,700 auxiliary arms.

Adding the totals of the three armies as above, we should get 2,032
officers and 68,231 men. But deductions of course must be made:

(1) For decrease from May 1 to June 21 in the Armies of Portugal and
the Centre, and from May 29 to June 21 in the Army of the South by
normal wastage, and in the two former by drafts sent back to France
in May.

(2) For casualties in action since the campaign opened.

The latter would not be large, only Digeon’s Dragoons and Villatte’s
and Sarrut’s infantry divisions having been seriously engaged during
the retreat. The Burgos explosion cost Villatte over 100 men. We need
not allow more than 1,500 as an ample estimate for casualties in action.

The normal wastage, and the deduction for drafts sent to France in May
are more difficult to calculate, but I think we shall not be far out in
taking 3,000 as an outside allowance for the latter--which affects only
the Armies of Portugal and the Centre, since we have a May 29th Return
for Gazan’s Army, which of course sent nothing away after that date.
And in healthy months, such as May and early June, the deficit from
extra sick would not be large--indeed as many men may have rejoined
as convalescents as went into hospital, since (except Villatte at
Salamanca) the troops had never been pressed or overmarched. It would
be generous to allow 5,000 for ‘wastage’.

If so, the French had 63,000 men at Vittoria, but deducting
non-combatants (train, artificers, &c.) there would be 9,000 horse,
over 46,000 men in the infantry divisions, and about 1,300 gunners with
the field and horse batteries not included in the infantry divisions,
also 1,000 sappers. This makes over 57,000 fighting men actually
available. There must also be a small addition for stray units of the
Army of the North known to have been present--not less than 500 nor
more than 1,000. All attempts to bring down the French force present to
45,000 men (_Victoires et Conquêtes_, vol. xxii) or 39,000 infantry and
8,000 horse (Jourdan) or ‘barely 50,000 men’ (Picard) are inadmissible.

BRITISH AND PORTUGUESE LOSSES AT VITTORIA

I. BRITISH LOSSES
_Killed._ _Wounded._ _Missing._
_Off._ _Men._ _Off._ _Men._ _Off._ _Men._ _Total._
1st Division, General Howard:
Stopford’s { 1st Coldstream Guards, }
Brigade { 1/3rd Guards } No casualties.
Halkett’s { 1st, 2nd, 5th Line K.G.L. -- 1 -- 1 -- -- 2
Brigade { 1st Light K.G.L. -- 1 1 7 -- -- 9
{ 2nd Light K.G.L. -- 4 -- 39 -- -- 43
-------------------------------------------------
Divisional Total -- 6 1 47 -- -- 54

2nd Division, General Sir W. Stewart:
Cadogan’s { 1/50th Foot -- 27 7 70 -- -- 104
Brigade { 1/71st Foot 3 41 12 260 See below[1071] 316
{ 1/92nd Foot -- 4 -- 16 -- -- 20
Byng’s { 1/3rd Foot -- 8 7 96 -- -- 110
Brigade { 1/57th Foot -- 5 2 21 -- -- 28
{ 1st Prov.[1072] Batt. -- 3 2 35 -- -- 40
O’Callaghan’s { 1/28th Foot -- 12 17 171 -- -- 199
Brigade { 2/34th Foot -- 10 3 63 -- -- 76
{ 1/39th Foot -- 26 8 181 -- -- 215
-------------------------------------------------
Divisional Total 3 136 58 913 -- -- 1,110

3rd Division, General Sir Thomas Picton:
Brisbane’s { 1/45th Foot -- 4 4 66 -- -- 74
Brigade { 74th Foot -- 13 4 66 -- -- 83
{ 1/88th Foot -- 23 5 187 -- -- 215
{ 5/60th Foot (3 comp.) -- 2 2 47 -- -- 51
Colville’s { 1/5th Foot 2 22 6 133 -- -- 163
Brigade { 2/83rd Foot 2 18 4 50 -- -- 74
{ 2/87th Foot 1 54 12 177 -- -- 244
{ 94th Foot -- 5 6 56 -- -- 67
-------------------------------------------------
Divisional Total 5 141 43 782 -- -- 972

4th Division, General Sir Lowry Cole:
W. Anson’s { 3/27th Foot -- 7 3 32 -- -- 42
Brigade { 1/40th Foot -- 5 3 34 -- -- 42
{ 1/48th Foot -- 1 -- 18 -- -- 19
{ 2nd Provisional[1073] -- 4 -- 6 -- -- 10
Skerrett’s { 1/7th Foot -- 2 -- 2 -- -- 4
Brigade { 20th Foot -- 3 -- 1 -- -- 4
{ 1/23rd Foot -- 1 -- 3 -- -- 4
-------------------------------------------------
Divisional Total -- 23 6 96 -- -- 125

5th Division, General Oswald:
Hay’s { 3/1st Foot -- 8 7 96 -- -- 111
Brigade { 1/9th Foot 1 9 -- 15 -- -- 25
{ 1/38th Foot -- -- 1 7 -- -- 8
Robinson’s { 1/4th Foot 1 12 6 72 -- -- 91
Brigade { 2/47th Foot 2 18 4 88 -- -- 112
{ 2/59th Foot -- 11 8 130 -- -- 149
-------------------------------------------------
Divisional Total 4 58 26 408 -- -- 496

7th Division, General Lord Dalhousie:

Barnes’s Brigade No casualties.
{ 51st Foot 1 10 -- 21 -- -- 32
Grant’s { 68th Foot 2 23 9 91 -- -- 125
Brigade { 1/82nd Foot 1 5 3 22 -- -- 31
{ _Chasseurs Britanniques_ -- 29 2 109 -- -- 140
Light Company Brunswick-Oels[1074] 1 -- -- 5 -- -- 6
-------------------------------------------------
Divisional Total 5 67 14 248 -- -- 334

Light Division, General Charles Alten:
{ 1/43rd Foot -- 2 2 27 -- -- 31
Kempt’s { 1/95th Rifles -- 4 4 37 -- -- 45
Brigade { 3/95th Rifles 1 7 -- 16 -- -- 24
Vandeleur’s { 1/52nd Foot 1 3 1 18 -- -- 23
Brigade { 2/95th Rifles -- -- 1 8 -- -- 9
-------------------------------------------------
Divisional Total 2 16 8 106 -- -- 132

CAVALRY.

R. Hill’s Brigade (Household Cavalry) No casualties.
Ponsonby’s Brigade. -- -- -- 2 -- -- 2
G. Anson’s { 12th Light Dragoons 1 3 -- 8 -- -- 12
Brigade { 16th Light Dragoons -- 7 1 13 -- -- 21
Long’s Brigade -- -- -- 1 -- -- 1
V. Alten’s Brigade No casualties.
Bock’s Brigade -- 1 -- -- -- -- 1
Fane’s { 3rd Dragoon Guards -- 3 1 4 -- -- 8
Brigade { 1st Royal Dragoons -- -- -- 1 -- -- 1
Grant’s { 10th Hussars -- 6 -- 10 -- -- 16
Brigade { 15th Hussars -- 10 2 47 -- -- 59
{ 18th Hussars 1 10 2 21 -- -- 34
-------------------------------------------------
Total Cavalry 2 40 6 107 -- -- 155
-------------------------------------------------

Royal Horse Artillery -- 4 1 35 -- -- 40
Field Artillery -- 5 -- 18 -- -- 23
K.G.L. Artillery -- 2 -- 5 -- -- 7
Royal Engineers -- -- 1 -- -- -- 1
General Staff -- -- 8 -- -- -- 8
-------------------------------------------------
GENERAL TOTAL 21 498 192 2,764 -- -- 3,475

N.B.--In addition we have, undistributed under corps, 223 rank and file
missing, of whom all except about 40 of the 1/71st were stragglers, not
prisoners.

II. PORTUGUESE LOSSES
_Killed._ _Wounded._ _Missing._
_Off._ _Men._ _Off._ _Men._ _Off._ _Men._ _Total._
Ashworth’s { 6th Line -- 1 -- 10 -- 1 12
Brigade { 18th Line -- -- -- 1 -- -- 1
(2nd Division) { 6th Caçadores 1 1 -- 7 -- -- 9
Power’s { 9th Line 3 43 9 157 -- -- 212
Brigade { 21st Line 3 55 8 115 -- 6 187
(3rd Division) { 11th Caçadores -- 3 2 7 -- -- 12
Stubbs’s { 11th Line 1 36 6 109 -- 1 153
Brigade { 23rd Line -- 20 3 35 -- -- 58
(4th Division) { 7th Caçadores -- 9 4 21 -- -- 35
Spry’s { 3rd Line -- 2 3 8 -- -- 13
Brigade { 15th Line -- 6 3 19 -- -- 28
(5th Division) { 8th Caçadores -- 13 2 25 -- -- 40
Lecor’s Brigade {
(7th Division) { 7th Line -- -- -- -- -- 6 6
Light { 1st Caçadores -- 2 -- 2 -- -- 4
Division { 3rd Caçadores -- -- -- 1 -- -- 1
{ 17th Line -- 7 1 20 -- -- 28
Silveira’s { Da Costa’s Brigade No casualties.
Division { A. Campbell’s Brigade -- 2 -- 1 -- 7 10
Pack’s { 1st Line -- 3 -- -- -- -- 3
Brigade { 16th Line 1 10 2 24 -- -- 37
{ 4th Caçadores -- 16 1 18 -- -- 35
Bradford’s { 13th Line -- -- -- 1 -- 16 17
Brigade { 24th Line -- -- -- 3 -- 3 3
{ 5th Caçadores -- 4 -- 5 -- 2 11
Cavalry: in 6th Regiment -- -- -- 2 -- -- 2
Artillery No casualties.
-------------------------------------------------
Total Portuguese Losses 9 233 44 592 -- 43 921

III. SPANISH LOSSES
_Killed._ _Wounded._ _Missing._
_Off._ _Men._ _Off._ _Men._ _Off._ _Men._ _Total._
All in Morillo’s and Longa’s }
Divisions } 4 85 10 453 -- -- 562

TOTAL ALLIED LOSSES
_Killed._ _Wounded._ _Missing._
_Off._ _Men._ _Off._ _Men._ _Off._ _Men._ _Total._
BRITISH 20 489 192 2,749 -- 223 3,675
PORTUGUESE 9 233 44 592 -- 43 921
SPANISH 4 85 10 453 -- -- 562
-------------------------------------------------
Total 33 807 246 3,794 -- 266 5,158

XII

FRENCH LOSSES AT VITTORIA: JUNE 21

[From the Official Returns, lent me by Mr. Fortescue.]

ARMY OF THE SOUTH
_Killed._ _Wounded._ _Prisoners._ ‘_Disparus._’
_Off._ _Men._ _Off._ _Men._ _Off._ _Men._ _Off._ _Men._ _Total._
Leval’s Division 4 98 17 395 4 133 -- 108 759
Villatte’s Division -- 43 2 212 -- 22 -- -- 291
Conroux’s Division 5 74 27 712 4 265 -- -- 1,087
Maransin’s Brigade 3 80 21 510 4 63 -- -- 681
Daricau’s Division 3 89 20 389 1 49 -- 280 833
Pierre Soult’s Cavalry -- -- 3 -- -- -- -- 3 6
Digeon’s Dragoons -- 18 11 69 1 3 -- -- 102
Tilly’s Dragoons -- 2 -- 19 1 3 -- -- 25
Artillery 2 20 -- 366 -- 100 -- -- 488
Engineers, &c. 1 2 -- 2 -- 23 -- -- 28
--------------------------------------------------------------------
Total 18 426 101 2,674 15 661 -- 391 4,300

ARMY OF THE CENTRE
‘_Prisoners
_Killed._ _Wounded._ or missing._’
_Off._ _Men._ _Off._ _Men._ _Off._ _Men._ _Total._
Darmagnac’s Division 9 96 33 414 3 791 1,346
Cassagne’s Division -- 9 6 70 -- 178 263
Treillard’s Dragoons -- 6 1 17 -- 56 80
Avy’s Chasseurs -- 2 1 3 -- 51 57
Artillery: no Returns ? ? ? ? ? ? ?
Engineers -- -- -- -- -- 4 4
Casapalacios’ Spaniards 5 20 12 21 -- 300 358
--------------------------------------------------
Total 14 133 53 525 3 1,380 2,108

ARMY OF PORTUGAL
‘_Prisoners
_Killed._ _Wounded._ or missing._’
_Off._ _Men._ _Off._ _Men._ _Off._ _Men._ _Total._
Sarrut’s Division 2 51 26 505 4 224 812
Lamartinière’s Division 7 70 30 362 1 116 586
Mermet’s Light Cavalry -- 18 8 42 -- 29 97
Boyer’s Dragoons 1 16 8 80 -- -- 105
Artillery, Engineers, &c. ? ? ? ? ? ? ?
--------------------------------------------------
Total 10 155 72 989 5 369 1,600

GENERAL TOTAL
OF THE THREE ARMIES 42 714 226 4,188 23 2,801 8,008

No return (as usual) from King Joseph’s Royal Guards, who had,
however, as Martinien’s lists show, 11 officers killed and wounded,
probably therefore 150 to 200 casualties in rank and file. Also no
returns from Artillery of Armies of the Centre and Portugal, from
whom Martinien shows 9 officer-casualties, or from the fractions
of the Army of the North present (3rd Line, &c.); the last show 3
officer-casualties in Martinien. It is obvious that the official total
is several hundreds too small.

XIII

SIR JOHN MURRAY’S ARMY ON THE TARRAGONA EXPEDITION: JUNE 1813

Advanced Guard Brigade. Colonel Adam:
2/27th, Calabrese Free Corps, 1st Anglo-Italian Levy, one company
Rifles of De Roll.

1st Division. General William Clinton. Brigadiers Honstedt and
Haviland-Smith:
1/58th, 2/67th, 4th Line Battalion K.G.L., Sicilian ‘Estero’
regiment (2 batts.).

2nd Division. General John Mackenzie. Brigadiers Warren and Prevost:
1/10th, 1/27th, 1/81st, De Roll-Dillon, 2nd Italian Levy.

Whittingham’s Spanish Infantry:
Guadalajara, Cordova, 2nd of Murcia, Mallorca, 5th Grenadiers.

Cavalry:
Two squadrons 20th Light Dragoons, two squadrons Brunswick Hussars,
one troop Foreign Hussars.

Artillery:
Two British and one Portuguese Field Batteries; one company British
and one Portuguese attached to Battering Train.

STATISTICS OF ABOVE. JUNE 4, 1813

[No regimental totals available.]

Infantry: _Officers._ _Men._
British, German Legion, De Roll-Dillon, 1st and
2nd batts. Anglo-Italian Levy, Calabrese
Free Corps 345 8,040
Sicilian Estero Regiment 67 1,041
Whittingham’s Spanish Infantry 228 4,624
Cavalry 37 764 [726 horses]
Artillery 53 767
Engineers and Staff Corps 9 77
--- ------
Total 739 15,313

XIV

SUCHET’S ARMY AT THE TIME OF SIR JOHN MURRAY’S TARRAGONA EXPEDITION

I. THE ARMY OF VALENCIA. MORNING STATE OF JUNE 16, 1813

_Officers._ _Men._ _Total._
1st Division, General Musnier [at Perello near
Tortosa]: 1st Léger (2 batts.), 114th Line
(3 batts.), 121st Line (2 batts.) 100 4,063 4,163
2nd Division, General Harispe [at Xativa]: 7th,
44th, 116th Line (2 batts. each) 97 3,967 4,064
3rd Division, General Habert [at Alcira]: 14th,
16th, 117th Line (2 batts. each) 118 4,002 4,120
3/5th Léger 18 601 619
Brigade detached from Catalonia, General Lamarque:
3rd Léger, 11th Line (2 batts. each),
20th Line (2 batts.)[1075], 1st Italian Chasseurs
(1 squadron) 89 3,240 3,329
Cavalry, General Boussard: 4th Hussars (4 squadrons),
12th Cuirassiers (4 squadrons), 24th
Dragoons (3 squadrons), Neapolitan Chasseurs
(2 squadrons) 84 1,895 1,979
Cavalry from the Army of the Centre: 1 squadron
Westphalian Chasseurs 11 163 174
Artillery and Artillery Train 20 1,201 1,221
Sappers 8 366 374
Gendarmerie, Équipages Militaires, &c. 9 681 690
Italian Division Severoli [at Buñol]: 1st Ligne
and 1st Léger (2 batts. each), and divisional
artillery 57 2,008 2,065
--- ------ ------
Total 611 22,187 22,798

II. GARRISONS OF ARAGON (GENERAL PARIS)

_Officers._ _Men._ _Total._
10th Ligne (2 batts.), 81st Ligne (3 batts.), 8th
Neapolitans 87 3,302 3,389
12th Hussars (3 squadrons) 26 370 396
Artillery 6 245 251
Gendarmerie (6 companies) 28 1,105 1,133
_Chasseurs des Montagnes_ 26 658 684
Spanish troops 7 151 158
--- ----- -----
Total 180 5,831 6,011

III. THE ARMY OF CATALONIA. MORNING STATE OF JUNE 16

_Officers._ _Men._ _Total._
Division of Cerdagne, General Quesnel: 102nd
Line (2 batts.), 143rd Line (4 batts.), and details 113 2,961 3,074
Division of Upper Catalonia, General Lamarque:
32nd Léger and 60th Line (1 batt. each), 3rd
Provisional Regiment, and details 60 2,459 2,519
Arrondissement of Gerona, General Nogués: 60th
Line (2 batts.), 115th Line (1 batt.), and details 100 2,964 3,064
Beurmann’s Brigade: 115th Line (2 batts.), 23rd
Léger (2 batts.), and details 62 2,400 2,462
Petit’s Brigade: 23rd Ligne (1 batt.), 67th Line
(2 batts.), Wurzburg (1 batt.), and details 87 1,972 2,059
Arrondissement of Barcelona, General Maurice
Mathieu: 5th Line (2 batts.), 79th Line (2 batts.),
18th Léger (2 batts.), 1st of Nassau (2 batts.),
29th Chasseurs (1 squadron), and details 162 6,857 7,019
Garrison of Lerida, General Henriod: 42nd Line
(2 batts.), and details 39 1,404 1,443
Garrison of Tarragona: 20th Line (1 batt.), 7th
Italian Line (1 batt.), and details 60 1,456 1,516
Gendarmerie (6 companies) 33 1,015 1,048
Artillery and Train 17 1,152 1,169
Sappers and Miners 5 186 191
--- ------ ------
Total 738 24,826 25,566

N.B.--The Cavalry (29th Chasseurs, and an odd squadron of 1st Hussars)
was distributed in troops and half-troops all round the brigades, the
only solid bodies being one squadron with Beurmann’s brigade, and one
at Barcelona. The total number of sabres was 670 only.

SPANISH ARMIES ON THE EAST COAST: JUNE 1, 1813

FIRST ARMY (General COPONS).
_Officers._ _Men._ _Total._

1st Division (Eroles): 5 batts. and 2 squadrons 202 4,357 4,559
2nd Division (?): 7 batts. and 2 squadrons 309 5,124 5,433
Garrisons: 5 batts. and details 272 5,497 5,769
--- ------ ------
Total 783 14,978 15,761

SECOND ARMY (General ELIO).

1st Division (Mijares): 6 batts. 230 4,125 4,355
2nd Division (Villacampa): 4 batts., 2 squadrons 209 4,355 4,564
3rd Division (Sarsfield): 5 batts., 2 squadrons. 206 5,178 5,384
4th Division (Roche), 5 batts. 199 4,237 4,436
5th Division (the Empecinado): 4 batts., 2 squadrons 135 4,113 4,248
6th Division (Duran): 4 batts., 3 squadrons 199 5,264 5,463
Cavalry Brigade: 2 regiments 61 953 1,014
Artillery 41 741 782
Engineers and Sappers 31 228 259
----- ------ ------
Total 1,311 29,294 30,605

THIRD ARMY (Duque DEL PARQUE).

1st Division (Prince of Anglona): 8 batts. 210 4,932 5,142
2nd Division (Marquis de las Cuevas): 7 batts. 187 3,438 3,625
3rd Division (Cruz Murgeon): 7 batts. 118 2,656 2,774
Cavalry Brigade (Sisternes) 42 664 706
Artillery, &c. 21 323 344
--- ------ ------
Total 578 12,013 12,591

XVI

THE ARMY OF SPAIN AS REORGANIZED BY SOULT: JULY 1813

N.B.--Numerals appended to a regiment’s name give the number of
battalions in it, when they exceed _one_.

_Officers
and men
present._
1st Division. FOY.

Brigade Fririon: 6th Léger. Late Foy’s Division Army of Portugal. }
69th Line (2). Ditto. }
76th Line. Ditto. } 5,922
Brigade Berlier: 36th Line (2). Late Sarrut’s Div. A. of P. }
39th Line. Late Foy’s Div. A. of P. }
65th Line (2). Late Sarrut’s Div. A. of P. }

2nd Division. DARMAGNAC.

Brigade Chassé: 16th Léger. Late Darmagnac’s Div. Army of the Centre. }
8th Line. Ditto. }
28th Line (2). Late Cassagne’s Div. A. of C. } 6,961
Brigade Gruardet: 51st Line. Ditto. }
54th Line. Ditto. }
75th Line (2). Ditto. }

3rd Division. ABBÉ.

Brigade Rignoux: 27th Léger. Late Villatte’s Div. Army of the South. }
63rd Line. Ditto. }
64th Line[1076] (2). Late garrison of Vittoria }
A. of N. } 8,030
Brigade Rémond: 5th Léger (2). Late Abbé’s Div. A. of N. }
94th Line (2). Late Villatte’s Div. A. of S. }
95th Line. Ditto. }

4th Division. CONROUX.

Brigade Rey: 12th Léger (2). Late Maransin’s Brigade A. of S. }
32nd Line (2). Late Conroux’s Div. A. of S. }
43rd Line (2). Ditto. } 7,056
Brigade Schwitter: 45th Line. Late Maransin’s Brigade A. of S. }
55th Line. Late Conroux’s Div. A. of S. }
58th Line. Ditto. }

5th Division. VANDERMAESEN.

Brigade Barbot: 25th Léger. Late Barbot’s Div. A. of P. }
1st Line. Late garrison of Burgos, A. of N.[1077] }
27th Line. Late Barbot’s Div. A. of P. }
Brigade Rouget: 50th Line. Ditto. } 4,181
59th Line. Ditto. }
130th Line (2). Late Vandermaesen’s Div. A. of N. }

6th Division. MARANSIN.

Brigade St. Pol: 21st Léger. Late Daricau’s Div. A. of S. }
24th Line. Late Leval’s Div. A. of S. }
96th Line. Ditto. }
Brigade Mocquery: 28th Léger. Late Daricau’s Div. A. of S. } 5,966
101st Line (2). Ditto. }
103rd Line. Ditto. }

7th Division. MAUCUNE.

Brigade Pinoteau: 17th Léger. Late Maucune’s Div. A. of P. }
15th Line (2). Ditto. }
66th Line. Ditto. }
Brigade Montfort: 34th Léger. Late Vandermaesen’s Div. A. of N. } 4,186
82nd Line. Late Maucune’s Div. A. of P. }
86th Line. Ditto. }

8th Division. TAUPIN.

Brigade Béchaud: 9th Léger (2). Late Leval’s Div. A. of S. }
26th Line. Late Taupin’s Div. A. of P. }
47th Line (2). Ditto. } 5,981
Brigade Lecamus: 31st Léger. Ditto. }
70th Line (2). Ditto. }
88th Line. Late Leval’s Div. A. of S. }

9th Division. LAMARTINIÈRE.

Brigade Menne: 2nd Léger. Late Sarrut’s Div. A. of P. }
118th Line (2). Late Lamartinière’s Div. A. of P. }
119th Line (2). Ditto. } 7,127
Brigade Gauthier: 120th Line (3). Ditto. }
122nd Line (2). Ditto. }

Reserve (General VILLATTE).

Brigadiers: Thouvenot and Boivin.
(1) 1/4th Léger. Late Sarrut’s Division A. of P. }
1 & 2/10th Léger. Late Abbé’s Division A. of N. }
3/31st Léger. Late garrison of Vittoria A. of N. }
1/3rd Line. Late Abbé’s Division A. of N. }
2/34th Line. Late Vandermaesen’s Division A. of N. }
1 & 3/40th Line. Late Vandermaesen’s Division A. of N. }
1/101st Line. Late garrison of Vittoria A. of N. }
1 & 2/105th Line. Late Abbé’s Division A. of N. } 9,102
4/114th Line (detachment). Old Bayonne Reserve }
4 & 5/115th Line. Old Bayonne Reserve }
4/116th Line. Old Bayonne Reserve }
4/117th Line. Old Bayonne Reserve }
3/118th Line. Old Bayonne Reserve }
3/119th Line. Late Biscay garrisons }
Total: 17 battalions.
(2) Foreign troops:
Neuenstein’s German Brigade, 4th Baden, 2nd Nassau (2),
Frankfort 2,066
St.Paul’s Italian Brigade 2nd Léger, 4th and 6th Line 1,349
Casapalacios’ Spanish Brigade--Castile, Toledo, Royal
Étranger 1,168
King Joseph’s Guard (General Guy). 3 regiments 2,019
(3) Gendarmes _à pied_ of the 4th and 5th Legions 900
National Guards 650
------
Total of Reserve 17,254

This total, as is obvious, much exceeds the 12,654 given as the total
of the Reserve by the tables which Soult sent to Paris on July 16 as
representing his available troops. These tables omit the following
French battalions which were all undoubtedly on the Pyrenean frontier
in July 1813 as they formed parts of the armies of the North and
Portugal or of the old Bayonne Reserve in the returns of May, and are
all found again present in the returns of September--1/3rd Line, 2/34th
Line, 1 & 2/40th Line, 1 & 2/105th Line, 4/116th Line, 4/117th, 2/10th
Ligne: i.e. 8-1/2 battalions, which easily account for the 4,600 men
short in Soult’s total. After the battles of the Pyrenees, in which
Maucune’s and Vandermaesen’s divisions were so cut up that they had to
be re-formed with new units, the following battalions, whose existence
is concealed by Soult in his July table, were drafted in to them--1 &
3/40th Line into Vandermaesen’s division, 1/3rd, 1 & 2/105th, 2/10th
Léger, into Maucune’s. Obviously then, they were available, though
omitted. The 4/116th and 4/117th (a fragment of four companies) came
into the fighting divisions later, but must have been somewhere behind
the Bidassoa all the time (having belonged to the old Bayonne Reserve).

_Officers and
men present._
Cavalry:

Acting as Corps-cavalry with the field army: 13th, 15th,
22nd Chasseurs 808

P. Soult’s Division: 5th and 12th Dragoons, 2nd Hussars,
5th, 10th, 21st Chasseurs, Nassau Chasseurs, Spanish
Cavalry 3,981

Treillard’s Division: 4th, 14th, 16th, 17th, 21st, 26th
Dragoons 2,358
-----
Total cavalry 7,147

This makes the total available for service in the field:

Infantry 72,664
Cavalry 7,147
------
Total 79,811

while Soult only gave himself credit for 69,543, including the Reserve,
for his field army.

In addition, there were half-trained conscripts at Bayonne 5,595.
Garrisons of San Sebastian 3,185, Santoña 1,465, Pampeluna 3,550 =
8,200. Also sick 14,074, and detached 2,110.

Finally, ‘Troupes non comprises dans les organizations,’ or ‘troupes
hors ligne,’ i. e. artillery, engineers, sappers, gendarmerie à cheval,
train, équipages militaires, &c. = 9,000. Gross total about 122,367.

XVII

BRITISH LOSSES AT MAYA: JULY 25, 1813

_Killed._ _Wounded._ _Missing._
_Off._ _Men._ _Off._ _Men._ _Off._ _Men._ _Total._
2nd Division Staff -- -- 2 -- -- -- 2

Cameron’s Brigade:
1/50th Foot 3 21 10 158 2 55 249
1/71st Foot 2 16 4 120 1 53 196
1/92nd Foot -- 34 19 268 -- 22 343

Pringle’s Brigade:
1/28th Foot 1 8 6 112 1 31 159
2/34th Foot 1 21 4 54 6 82 168
1/39th Foot 2 10 7 111 2 54 186

Two companies 5/60th,
attached to above
brigades 2 5 -- 11 1 25 44

7th Division troops:
1/6th -- 2 2 17 -- -- 21
1/82nd -- 8 4 67 -- -- 79
Brunswick-Oels -- 8 3 15 -- 15 41
--------------------------------------------------
Total of the
three brigades 11 133 61 933 13 337 1,488

BRITISH LOSSES AT RONCESVALLES

N.B.--Only those of Ross’s and Campbell’s brigades are available in
detail, those of Byng’s brigade are nowhere found, but are known to
have been slight--under 100 in all. It is most curious that not one
officer-casualty appears to have occurred either in the 1/3rd or in the
1st Provisional Battalion, Byng’s only units engaged at Roncesvalles.

_Killed._ _Wounded._ _Missing._
_Off._ _Men._ _Off._ _Men._ _Off._ _Men._ _Total._
Ross’s Brigade:
1/7th Foot 1 6 -- 24 -- -- 31
20th Foot 1 14 8 105 -- 11 139
1/23rd Foot -- 6 4 32 -- -- 42
1 company
Brunswick-Oels -- 2 -- 2 -- -- 4

Portuguese Brigade (A. Campbell):
11th Line }
23rd Line } -- 3 -- 20 -- 6 29
7th Caçadores }

XVIII

BRITISH LOSSES AT SORAUREN: JULY 28

_Killed._ _Wounded._ _Missing._
_Off._ _Men._ _Off._ _Men._ _Off._ _Men._ _Total._
2nd Division:
{ 1/3rd Foot -- -- -- 2 -- -- 2
Byng’s { 1/57th Foot -- 2 2 59 -- -- 63
Brigade { 1st Provisional Batt. }
{ (2/31st & 2/66th) } -- -- 1 4 -- -- 5
-- -- -- -- -- -- --
-------------------------------------------------
Brigade Total -- 2 3 65 -- -- 70

3rd Division: no losses.

4th Division (Cole):
{ 3/27th Foot 2 41 9 195 -- 7 254
Anson’s { 1/40th Foot 1 19 4 105 -- -- 129
Brigade { 1/48th Foot 2 10 8 104 -- 11 135
{ 2nd Provisional Batt. }
{ (2nd & 2/53rd) } -- 1 1 18 -- -- 20

{ 1/7th Foot 1 46 10 159 1 -- 217
Ross’s { 1/20th Foot 1 23 5 79 -- -- 108
Brigade { 1/23rd Foot 2 16 4 59 -- -- 81
{ 1 company Brunswick-Oels -- 1 -- 3 -- 1 5
-------------------------------------------------
Divisional Total 9 157 41 722 1 19 949

6th Division (Pack):

Stirling’s { 1/42nd Foot -- 3 -- 19 -- -- 22
Brigade { 1/79th Foot -- 4 1 30 -- -- 35
{ 1/91st Foot -- 12 6 92 -- 2 112
{ 1 company 5/60th -- 1 -- 4 -- -- 5

Lambert’s { 1/11th Foot -- 5 4 42 -- -- 51
Brigade { 1/32nd Foot -- -- 1 23 -- -- 24
{ 1/36th Foot -- -- 2 16 -- -- 18
{ 1/61st Foot -- 2 2 58 -- -- 62
-------------------------------------------------
Divisional Total -- 27 16 284 -- 2 329

Artillery -- -- -- 6 -- -- 6
General Staff 2 -- 2 -- -- -- 4
-------------------------------------------------
Total British 11 186 62 1,077 1 21 1,358
Total Portuguese 3 160 45 850 -- 44 1,102
-------------------------------------------------
GENERAL TOTAL 14 346 107 2,034 1 65 2,460

XIX

BRITISH LOSSES AT SECOND SORAUREN: JULY 30

_Killed._ _Wounded._ _Missing._
_Off._ _Men._ _Off._ _Men._ _Off._ _Men._ _Total._
2nd Division:

Byng’s { 1/3rd Foot 1 3 1 25 -- -- 30
Brigade { 1/57th Foot -- 2 2 33 -- -- 37
{ 1st Provisional Batt.}
{ (2/31st & 2/66th) } 1 5 6 52 -- -- 64
-------------------------------------------------
Brigade Total 2 10 9 110 -- -- 131

3rd Division (Picton):

Brisbane’s { 1/45th Foot -- -- 1 7 -- -- 8
Brigade { 5/60th (4 companies) -- 2 1 28 -- -- 31
{ 74th Foot 1 6 4 38 -- -- 49
{ 1/88th Foot -- -- -- 1 -- -- 1
-------------------------------------------------
Brigade Total 1 8 6 74 -- -- 89

Colville’s Brigade: no casualties.

4th Division (Cole):

Anson’s { 3/27th Foot -- -- -- -- -- -- --
Brigade { 1/40th Foot -- -- 1 6 -- -- 7
{ 1/48th Foot -- -- -- -- -- -- --
{ 2nd Provisional Batt.}
{ (2nd & 2/53rd) } -- -- -- 6 -- -- 6
-------------------------------------------------
Brigade Total -- -- 1 12 -- -- 13

Ross’s Brigade: no casualties.

6th Division (Pakenham):

Stirling’s { 1/42nd Foot -- 1 -- 7 -- -- 8
Brigade { 1/79th Foot -- 1 -- 17 -- -- 18
{ 1/91st Foot -- 1 1 7 -- -- 9

{ 1/11th Foot -- 2 -- 20 -- 1 23
Lambert’s { 1/32nd Foot -- 3 2 28 -- -- 33
Brigade { 1/36th Foot -- 6 1 19 -- -- 26
{ 1/61st Foot -- 1 2 10 -- -- 13
-------------------------------------------------
Divisional Total -- 15 6 108 -- 1 130

7th Division (Dalhousie):

{ 1/6th Foot -- -- 1 5 -- 1 7
Barnes’s { 3rd Provisional Batt.}
Brigade { (2/24th & 2/58th) } -- 1 -- 2 -- -- 3
{ Brunswick-Oels }
{ (9 companies) } -- 2 -- 1 -- 14 17
{ 51st Foot -- 2 -- 22 -- -- 24

Inglis’s { 68th Foot 1 3 3 16 -- -- 23
Brigade { 1/82nd Foot -- 9 7 76 -- -- 92
{ _Chasseurs
Britanniques_ 1 12 9 19 -- 4 45
-------------------------------------------------
Divisional Total 2 29 20 141 -- 19 211

Artillery -- 1 -- 8 -- -- 9

GENERAL BRITISH TOTAL 5 62 42 448 -- 20 583

Portuguese total unascertainable; the casualties of 2nd Sorauren and
Beunza, fought on the same day, being lumped together in the return
at 1,120. But at 2nd Sorauren they were fairly light: from the fact
that Stubbs’s Portuguese brigade had 6 officer-casualties this day,
Lecor’s 4, and Madden’s 3, it might be guessed that the ‘other ranks’
casualties may have been about 300 in all.

COMBAT OF BEUNZA. JULY 30

_Killed._ _Wounded._ _Missing._
_Off._ _Men._ _Off._ _Men._ _Off._ _Men._ _Total._
Fitzgerald’s (late Cameron’s) Brigade:
1/50th -- 3 2 14 2 9 30
1/71st -- 8 1 28 -- 13 50
1/92nd -- 9 1 26 -- 1 37
Pringle’s Brigade:
1/28th -- -- -- -- -- -- --
2/34th 1 5 1 15 -- 9 31
1/39th -- -- -- 3 -- -- 3
General Staff -- -- 1 -- -- -- 1
Cavalry (14th Light Dragoons and
1st Hussars K.G.L.) -- -- 1 2 -- 2 5
-------------------------------------------------
Total 1 25 7 88 2 34 157

Portuguese losses heavy. Ashworth’s brigade had 12 officer-casualties,
Da Costa’s 18; this at the usual rate should mean about 600 casualties
of all ranks.

BRITISH CASUALTIES IN MINOR ENGAGEMENTS: JULY 31-AUGUST 2, 1813

COMBAT OF VENTA DE URROZ (or DONNA MARIA). JULY 31

_Killed._ _Wounded._ _Missing._
_Off._ _Men._ _Off._ _Men._ _Off._ _Men._ _Total._
2nd Division, Staff -- -- 1[1078] 1[1079] 2

Fitzgerald’s { 1/50th Foot -- 6 -- 26 -- 14 46
Brigade { 1/71st Foot -- 2 1 34 -- -- 37
{ 1/92nd Foot -- 12 6 69 -- 4 91

Pringle’s { 1/28th Foot -- 1 -- 1 -- -- 2
Brigade { 2/34th Foot -- 1 -- 13 -- 2 16
{ 1/39th Foot -- -- -- 4 -- -- 4

7th Division:

Inglis’s { 51st Foot -- 5 -- 40 -- 6 51
Brigade { 68th Foot -- 5 -- 25 -- -- 30
{ 1/82nd Foot -- -- -- 3 -- -- 3
{_Chasseurs
Britanniques_ -- 9 1 15 -- 8 33
-------------------------------------------------
Total -- 41 9 230 1 34 315

COMBAT OF ECHALAR. AUGUST 2

_Killed._ _Wounded._ _Missing._
_Off._ _Men._ _Off._ _Men._ _Off._ _Men._ _Total._
General Staff -- -- 1 -- -- -- 1

4th Division:

Ross’s { 1/7th Foot -- -- -- 4 -- -- 4
Brigade { 20th Foot 1 -- 3 26 -- -- 30
{ 1/23rd Foot -- -- -- 3 -- -- 3

7th Division:

Barnes’s { 1/6th Foot 1 12 3 119 -- 3 138
Brigade { 3rd Provisional Batt. -- 15 9 115 -- 2 141
{ Brunswick-Oels -- 1 4 7 -- 2 14

Light Division:
1/43rd -- -- -- 1 -- -- 1
1/95th -- 1 1 10 -- -- 12
3/95th -- 1 -- 13 -- -- 14
-------------------------------------------------
Total 2 30 21 298 -- 7 358

XXI

PORTUGUESE LOSSES IN THE BATTLES OF THE PYRENEES

_Killed._ _Wounded._ _Missing._
_Off._ _Men._ _Off._ _Men._ _Off._ _Men._ _Total._
Da Costa’s Brigade:
2nd Line 3 85 9 81 -- 21 200 } All at Beunza,
14th Line 1 23 5 36 -- 19 84 } July 30.

A. Campbell’s Brigade:
4th Line 2 24 7 78 -- 3 114 } Almost all at
10th Line 2 75 7 116 -- 13 213 } two battles
10th Caçadores -- 3 3 12 -- 10 28 } of Sorauren.

Ashworth’s Brigade (2nd Division):
6th Line -- 29 5 63 -- 8 105 } All at Beunza,
18th Line 1 51 4 82 -- 12 150 } July 30.
6th Caçadores 1 13 1 37 -- 10 62 }

Lecor’s Brigade (7th Division):
7th Line -- -- -- -- -- 4 4 } Almost all at
19th Line -- -- 2 -- -- -- 2 } 2nd Sorauren,
2nd Caçadores 1 12 1 44 -- -- 58 } July 30.

Madden’s Brigade (6th Division):
8th Line -- -- -- 3 -- -- 3 } At the two
12th Line 2 53 2 208 -- 4 269 } battles of
9th Caçadores -- 15 3 86 -- -- 104 } Sorauren.

Power’s Brigade (3rd Division):
9th Line -- -- -- -- -- 2 2 }
21st Line -- 5 -- 9 -- -- 14 } All at 2nd
11th Caçadores -- 1 -- 5 -- -- 6 } Sorauren.

Stubbs’s Brigade (4th Division):
11th Line 1 34 1 105 -- 1 142 } At the two
23rd Line 1 17 6 26 -- -- 50 } battles of
7th Caçadores 2 47 5 67 -- -- 121 } Sorauren.
-------------------------------------------------
Total 16 489 60 1,060 -- 107 1,732

No Artillery losses save those at the combat of Maya, which were about
15. No Cavalry losses at all, though D’Urban’s brigade was in the field
at Sorauren.

N.B.--It will be noted that these losses are appreciably lower than
those stated in Wellington’s general return. The figures given above
are from Beresford’s corrected returns at Lisbon.

XXII

FRENCH LOSSES IN THE CAMPAIGN OF THE PYRENEES

[From Soult’s Official Return, lent me by Mr. Fortescue.]

_Killed._ _Wounded._ _Prisoners._
_Off._ _Men._ _Off._ _Men._ _Off._ _Men._ _Total._
I. REILLE’S WING:
1st Division (Foy) 6 78 9 393 -- 69 555
7th Division (Maucune) 14 189 27 500 25 1,102 1,857
9th Division (Lamartinière) 10 79 16 657 3 216 981
-------------------------------------------------
Total Reille’s Wing 30 346 52 1,550 28 1,387 3,393

II. D’ERLON’S ‘CENTRE’:
2nd Division (Darmagnac) 13 191 65 1,925 1 30 2,225
3rd Division (Abbé) 9 130 21 560 1 29 750
6th Division (Maransin) 11 105 34 783 -- 126 1,059
-------------------------------------------------
Total D’Erlon’s ‘Centre’ 33 426 120 3,268 2 185 4,034

III. CLAUSEL’S WING:
4th Division (Conroux) 16 145 35 1,432 12 747 2,387
5th Division (Vandermaesen) 16 153 30 978 2 301 1,480
8th Division (Taupin) 6 125 38 1,007 -- 26 1,202
-------------------------------------------------
Total Clausel’s Wing 38 423 103 3,417 14 1,074 5,069

IV. Cavalry -- 12 2 33 1 19 67
--------------------------------------------------
GENERAL TOTAL OF ARMY 101 1,207 277 8,268 45 2,665 12,563

No figures for Artillery, Engineers, Train, or other auxiliary
services, or for General Staff. Martinien’s lists supply 4 casualties
of generals (Conroux, Schwitter, Rignoux, Meunier), and 12 of staff
officers. There must have been appreciable casualties in the other
services, especially men captured from the Train at the Yanzi disaster.

Soult’s figures are always unreliable (as witness Albuera). The
details above contain some ‘moral impossibilities’--e. g. the Return
gives 63rd Line of Abbé’s Division 193 casualties, _not including
one officer_. But Martinien’s lists supply one officer-casualty at
Maya, two at Beunza, two at Yanzi. Similarly 58th Line of Conroux has
in the Official Return 473 casualties, including only 5 officers--1
wounded and 4 prisoners. A reference to Martinien shows 2 officers
killed (one the colonel!) and 5 wounded--adding the 4 prisoners we get
11 officer-casualties to 473 men: quite a possible percentage, which
Soult’s is not.

Captain Vidal de la Blache (i. p. 280) gives a casualty list differing
slightly from the above. It runs: Foy 556, Maucune 2,457, Lamartinière
981, Darmagnac 2,225, Abbé 253 [quite impossible], Maransin 1,059,
Conroux 2,387, Vandermaesen 1,480, Taupin 1,202, Cavalry 72; total
12,071.

INDEX

Abbé, general, governor of Navarre, fails to relieve Tafalla, 262;
joined by Barbot, 263;
by Taupin, 264;
at Maya, 629;
at Beunza, 703;
at Venta de Urroz, 710;
at Yanzi, 723.

Aboville, Auguste Gabriel, general, his explosion at Burgos, 358.

Adam, Frederick, colonel, at combat of Biar, 287-90;
at Castalla, 291-7;
protests against abandonment of the siege of Tarragona, 511.

Alava, Miguel, general, wounded at Villa Muriel, 80.

Alba de Tormes, combat of, 122-3;
defended by major José Miranda, 125.

Albeyda, combat of, 282.

Alcoy, combat of, 282.

Alicante, Maitland at, 4, 162;
Mackenzie commands Anglo-Spanish army at, 58, 163;
Bentinck’s proposal to withdraw troops from, 220;
Murray at, 275;
Bentinck brings back expeditionary force to, 521.

Alten, Charles, major-general commanding Light Division, left in
command at Madrid, 4;
in the Bastan, 540;
moves the Light Division to Lecumberri, 690;
ordered to harass Soult’s retreat, 715-24;
at Yanzi, 727;
at Ivantelly, 735.

Alten, Victor, major-general, on retreat from Madrid, 98, 119, 130,
135, 144;
pursues Villatte, 317;
at Vittoria, 395, 419;
in the Vittoria pursuit, 458.

Altobiscar, combat of, _see_ Roncesvalles.

Alvarez, Pedro, colonel, his defence of Castro-Urdiales, 272-3.

Anson, George, major-general, his brigade on the Douro, 9-10, 15;
on retreat from Burgos, 68;
at Venta del Pozo, 71-6.

Anson, William, major-general, at Vittoria, 419;
at Sorauren, 656, 673;
at second Sorauren, 694.

Aranjuez, evacuated by Hill, 97.

Ariñez, village of, in battle of Vittoria, taken by Picton, 418-21.

Artificers, Royal Military, converted into Royal Sappers and Miners, 26;
at siege of Burgos, 50.

Ashworth, Charles, brigadier-general, at Vittoria, 419;
in the Bastan, 530;
at Maya, 626;
at combat of Beunza, 703.

Astorga, long siege of, 6-12;
surrenders to Castaños, 11;
Foy at, 11.

Aussenac, general, joins Souham, 54;
operations of his brigade, 116 _note_;
in Biscay, 267.

Avy, Antoine, general, at Vittoria, 393, 411, 428.

Babila Fuente, combat of, 319.

Balaguer, fort, besieged by Murray, 491;
fall of, 499.

Ballasteros, Francisco, general, Wellington’s orders to, 58, 59;
his attempted _coup d’état_, 60, 61, 66, 178, 198;
exiled by the Cortes, 62;
Wellington’s comments on, 300.

Barbot, general, his troops defeated at combat of Lerin, 263;
checked at Roncesvalles, 615.

Barnes, Edward, major-general, his gallant counter-attack at Maya, 637;
at second Sorauren, 697;
charge of his brigade at Echalar, 733.

Bathurst, Henry, Earl, Secretary for War, correspondence of Wellington
with, 12, 25, 28, 64, 112, 117, 164 _note_, 197, 211, 214, 217,
219, 220, 225-6;
establishes Beresford’s claims to seniority over Graham and Cotton, 230;
Wellington sends plan of campaign for 1813 to, 301-4;
Wellington’s remarks after Vittoria, 453, 468;
suggests Wellington’s transfer to Germany, 558.

Bayas, skirmish on the, 379.

Behobie, bridge of, broken by Foy, 487.

Bejar, Foy’s failure at, 240-1.

Bentinck, Lord Frederick, at siege of Tarragona, 507, 511.

Bentinck, Lord William, sends troops to Alicante, 164;
proposes to withdraw them, 222-3;
sends a raiding force to Tuscany, 223;
recalls troops from Alicante to Sicily, 284;
arrives to take command at Balaguer, 520;
his dispatches to Wellington and Bathurst, 521.

Beresford, Sir William, marshal, his management of army in Portugal, 210;
Wellington’s choice of, as successor to himself, 228;
Duke of York’s decision against his claims, 229;
Lord Bathurst establishes his right to seniority, 230;
receives Wellington’s plan of campaign for 1813, 303.

Bertoletti, general, commands at Tarragona, 492;
defends the town against Murray, 496-514.

Beunza, combat of, 703, 704;
casualties at, 739.

Biar, combat of, 288-90.

Bilbao, taken and lost by the Spaniards, 254;
again attacked, 254;
relieved by Palombini, 261;
again attacked by Spaniards, 267.

Bloye, captain (R.N.), at Castro-Urdiales, 271-2, 273.

Bock, Eberhard, general, on retreat from Burgos, 69;
at combat of Venta del Pozo, 71-4;
brings his brigade to join Graham, 323;
crosses the Esla, 330;
at Vittoria, 396, 437.

Bourbon, the Cardinal, appointed head of Spanish Regency, 205-7.

Boyer, general, at combat of Venta del Pozo, 72-4;
ordered to return to France, 246;
his raid across the Esla, 327;
at Vittoria, 404, 436;
summoned to join Napoleon, 531.

Bradford, Henry,brigadier-general, sufferings of his brigade on retreat
to Rodrigo, 154;
at Vittoria, 396, 424, 437;
at combat of Villareal, 474, 475;
at combat of Tolosa, 478;
at St. Sebastian, 567, 571.

Brisbane, Thomas, major-general, his brigade at Vittoria, 413, 418, 421.

Burgos, description of, 21-4;
siege of, 17-51;
relieved by Souham, 68;
Wellington’s comments on, 299;
operations round, in June, 1813, 346-63;
abandoned by King Joseph, 357.

Burgoyne, John, major (R.E.), senior engineer at Burgos, 18 _n._,
28 _n._, 30 _n._, 41 _n._;
his observations, 44-5, 47, 49-51;
his notes on siege of St. Sebastian, 573, 578.

Byng, John, major-general, at Vittoria, 400, 419;
at Roncesvalles, 557, 611;
retires, 622-3;
at Sorauren, 656, 673;
at second Sorauren, 694.

Cadiz, Wellington at, 201-6.

Cadogan, Hon. Henry, colonel, at Vittoria, 400;
death of, 401.

Caffarelli, Louis Marie, general, commands Army of the North, 2;
strengthens Burgos, 23;
joins Souham at Briviesca, 48-54;
in pursuit of Wellington, 85;
returns to Burgos, 111;
opposed by the Guerrilleros, 166;
his failure to restore order in Biscay, 191-3, 252-8;
superseded by Clausel, 193;
returns to France, 217, 262.

Cameron, John, colonel, succeeds to Cadogan’s brigade at Vittoria,
417, 419, 429;
in pursuit of the French, 439;
in the Bastan, 530;
at Maya, 542, 626, 633, 634.

Campbell, Archibald,major-general, at Roncesvalles, joins Ross, 621;
at Sorauren, 656;
at Beunza, 704.

Campbell, Colin, captain, his account of storm of St. Sebastian, 580,
581, 582.

Campbell, James, general, at Alicante, 162;
supersedes Clinton, 165, 275;
superseded by Murray, 275.

Carvajal, Spanish minister of war, Wellington’s letter to, 198-200.

Casapalacios, general, commanding Franco-Spaniards at Vittoria, 394-426;
under Soult, 595.

Cassagne, general, at Vittoria, 393, 402, 414, 429;
his division in the Bastan, 534.

Cassan, general, governor of Pampeluna, 528.

Castalla, battle of, 291-6.

Castaños, Francisco Xavier, general, commands Army of Galicia, joins
Wellington before Burgos, 15-16;
on retreat, 64, 156;
winter quarters of, 184;
Wellington’s approval of, 199;
appointed captain-general in Galicia, Castile, and Estremadura, 305;
deposed by Regency, 523.

Castro-Urdiales, fortified by the Spaniards, 260;
Clausel at, 265;
siege and storm of, 271-3.

Chinchilla, siege of, 63;
taken by French, 66.

Ciudad Rodrigo, Wellington’s retreat on, 153;
winter quarters at, 180.

Clarke, Henri, duc de Feltre, French minister of war, appoints Masséna
to command Army of Portugal, 33;
orders withdrawal from Madrid, 243;
recalls troops to France, 248, 249;
his orders to Clausel, 259;
forwards King Joseph’s complaints to Russia, 88;
lectures the king on his strategy, 243, 248, 249;
his views on the Northern insurrection, 252;
urges the king to send troops to Biscay and Navarre, 259-60;
his misconceptions of Wellington’s strength and designs, 245, 251;
his instructions to King Joseph after his retreat into France, 546.

Clausel, Bertrand, general, commands Army of Portugal, 2;
reorganizes his army, 6-8;
advances to Valladolid, 8-9;
retreats northward, 14, 15, 17;
superseded by Souham, 33;
in operations round Salamanca, 124-42;
supersedes Caffarelli with Army of the North, 193, 258, 262;
his failure to subdue the North, 259, 270;
his pursuit of Mina, 268, 269, 334;
ordered to join King Joseph, 386;
fails to reach Vittoria before the battle, 454;
evades Wellington’s pursuit, 460-9;
reaches Saragossa, 465;
arrives in France, 469, 527;
appointed to command of the left wing under Soult, 594;
at Roncesvalles, 615;
at Sorauren, 657, 663, 665-77;
in second battle of Sorauren, 692-7;
retreat, 707;
at Sumbilla, 718;
at Echalar, 734.

Clinton, Henry, general commanding 6th Division, 2;
joined by Wellington, 13;
at Burgos, 42;
Wellington’s dissatisfaction with, 52;
resumes command of 6th Division, after Vittoria, 462;
pursues Clausel, 463, 464.

Clinton, William, major-general, takes command at Alicante, 164;
superseded by Campbell, 165, 275;
at battle of Castalla, 291-7;
at Tarragona, 492, 565;
thwarted by Murray, 509-10.

Collier, Sir George, captain (R.N.), blockades St. Sebastian, 567;
lands naval guns, 569.

Cole, Sir Lowry, major-general, retreats from Madrid, 102;
at Roncesvalles, 585, 604, 611, 617, 620;
Wellington censures his retreat, 622, 623;
at combat of Linzoain, 651;
at Sorauren, 656;
at second Sorauren, 694.

Colville, Hon. Charles, major-general, at Vittoria, 411, 417, 429, 435.

Conroux, general, at Vittoria, 401;
alarmist reports of, 538, 540;
at Sorauren, 663, 668;
in second battle of Sorauren, 692-6;
at Sumbilla, 719;
at Echalar, 734.

Constantin, Foy defeats Silveira at, 11.

Copons, Francisco, captain-general of Catalonia, commands 1st Army
in Catalonia, 308;
co-operates with Murray, 49, 504;
Murray’s pledge to join him in defending the Gaya, 507;
abandoned by Murray, 513;
threatens Mathieu’s force, 518.

Cortes, intrigues in the Spanish, 202-3.

Cotton, Sir Stapleton, lieut.-general, at combat of Venta del Pozo,
70-4;
in command at combat of Villadrigo, 76;
Wellington’s estimate of, 229;
his ambitions as to the command in the Peninsula, 229-30.

Croker, John Wilson, records Wellington’s plan for driving the French
out of the Peninsula, 359-60, 454 _note_.

Curto, Jean-Baptiste, general, pursues Wellington from Burgos, 69, 71;
at combat of Venta del Pozo, 71-4;
at Vittoria, 426, 436.

Da Costa, general, his operations in the Bastan, 537;
at Maya, 626;
at Beunza, 704.

Dalhousie, George, Earl of, lieut.-general, insubordinate action of, 152;
commands 7th Division at Vittoria, 409, 422;
his responsibility for errors, 449;
blockades Pampeluna, 539;
marches to Lizaso, 683;
at second Sorauren, 695;
at Venta de Urroz, 711;
at Echalar, 733.

Daricau, general, in pursuit of Wellington, 149;
marches toward Valencia, 280;
withdraws from Zamora, 327;
pursued by Wellington, 331;
at Vittoria, 393, 401.

Darmagnac, general, at Vittoria, 393, 413, 417, 428;
at combat of Araquil, 461;
at Maya, 629;
at Irurita, 683, 684;
at Beunza, 703;
at Venta de Urroz, 711;
at Sumbilla, 719.

Decaen, Charles, general, commands French Army of Catalonia, 308;
prepares to withstand Murray, 502-4;
his ineffective operations, 517.

Denia, abortive expedition to, 163, 164.

D’Erlon, Jean Baptiste Drouet, comte, in pursuit of Hill from Madrid,
99;
supersedes Souham in command of Army of Portugal, 129;
his operations on the Tormes, 132;
brings Army of the Centre to Valladolid, 339;
at Vittoria, 401, 418;
abandoned by Gazan, 431;
retires, 433;
disorderly retreat of, 439;
retreats by the Col de Velate, 521;
in the Bastan, 530;
ordered to join Reille on the Nivelle, 534;
appointed to command Centre of Army under Soult, 594;
ordered to force the pass of Maya, 624;
captures the position, 624-39;
at Irurita, 683, 684;
his delays, 685;
attacks Hill, 702;
at combat of Beunza, 703;
retreats to France, 736.

Desprez, colonel, sent by King Joseph to Russia, 88;
his report of the Moscow retreat, 241, 242.

Dickson, Alexander, colonel (R.A.), at Vittoria, 419, 428;
at St. Sebastian, 565.

Digeon, Alexandre, general, pursuing Wellington’s army, 144;
on the Esla, 327, 328;
abandons Zamora, 330;
pursued by Wellington, 331;
at Vittoria, 393, 404, 426;
covers Reille’s retreat, 436.

Donkin, Rufane, major-general, Q.M.G. to Murray, 292-5;
his misleading dispatch, 508;
plans re-embarkation from Tarragona, 509;
remonstrates with Murray, 511.

Douglas, Sir Howard, colonel, 11, 14; sends guns for the siege of
Burgos, 39, 41 _note_.

Dubreton, general, governor of Burgos, successful defence of, 23-51;
relieved by Souham, 68.

Duran, José, brigadier-general, 255, 280-1.

D’Urban, Benjamin,major-general, views on the siege of Burgos, 51;
on retreat from Madrid, 98, 119, 130, 132, 156, 159;
brings his Portuguese brigade to join Graham, 324-5;
crosses the Esla, 330;
at Vittoria, 394, 419.

Ebro, crossed by Wellington, 362, 363;
operations on, 364.

Echalar, combat of, 732;
casualties at, 739.

Elio, Francisco, general, commanding in Valencia, 66;
combines with Hill, 95, 98-110;
retires to Alicante, 162-4;
his army in Murcia, 277;
on the Xucar, 283, 285;
his mismanagement at Villena, 287, 288;
co-operates with Murray, 298, 488, 502.

Empecinado, the (Juan Martin), brigadier-general, 100, 109;
occupies Madrid, 110;
in East Castile, 255, 256, 281.

Erskine, Sir William, general, at combat of Ocaña, 93;
his suicide, 315.

Esla, passage of the, 329.

España, Carlos de, general, 98, 100, 112, 184, 305, 315, 656.

Fane, Henry, major-general, pursues Villatte, 317;
at Vittoria, 394.

Ferdinand, King of Sicily, his abortive _coup d’état_, 284-5.

Fletcher, Sir Richard, colonel R.E., directs siege of St. Sebastian,
565, 578.

Forjaz, Miguel, secretary of state in Portugal, Wellington’s
correspondence with, 208.

Foy, Maximilien, general, his raid on Zamora, 10-11;
joins Clausel, 12;
in pursuit of Wellington after Burgos, 78, 83, 84;
at Salamanca, 141-2;
his views on the campaign, 168;
on Wellington, 174, 180;
at Avila, 187;
abortive effort to surprise Bejar, 240;
operations in Biscay, 271-4, 337, 365;
receives orders to join King Joseph, 378;
decides against joining the army at Vittoria, 470;
harassed by Longa, 472;
at combat of Tolosa, 477-82;
regarrisons St. Sebastian, 484;
falls back on the Bidassoa, 485;
burns Behobie bridge, 487;
on the Linduz, 619, 649;
at Sorauren, 664;
at second Sorauren, 693;
retreats into France, 699-700.

Fraile, the (Agostin Nebot), guerrillero chief, 280.

Freire, Manuel, general, opposes Soult’s advance on Madrid, 93;
ordered to join Ballasteros, 100;
with Elio and the Empecinado, 109;
in Andalusia, 162, 165, 307;
succeeds Castaños in command of the 4th Army, 524.

Freneda, Wellington at, 194-213.

Fuenterrabia, castle of, seized and burned by Mina’s bands, 263.

Gaudin, colonel, defeated by Mina at combat of Lerin, 263.

Gauthier, general, at combat of Villa Muriel, 79;
at Sorauren, 675.

Gazan, countess, sent by Wellington to France after Vittoria, 445.

Gazan, Honoré, general, succeeds Soult, 247;
orders Leval to evacuate Madrid, 339;
with Army of the South at Arminion, 379;
at Vittoria, 390;
defence of his action, 402, 417;
his retreat from Gomecha, 430-1;
retires by the Pass of Roncesvalles, 523;
ordered to take command in the Bastan, 534;
retreats before Hill, 536;
abandons Maya, 543;
chief of the staff to Soult, 594;
in the Pyrenean campaign, 665.

Giron, Pedro Agostin, general, nephew of Castaños, commands 4th Army,
306;
his operations in Biscay, 368, 381;
marches to Vittoria, 381, 396;
sent in pursuit of French, 454;
returns to guard Vittoria, 471;
joins Longa, 473;
at combat of Tolosa, 479;
superseded in command of 4th Army by the Regency, 524;
at Irun, 557.

Gomm, William, captain, his criticism on siege of St. Sebastian, 583,
584.

Gordon, James Willoughby, colonel, Q.M.G., errors of, 135-8, 146, 180;
his treacherous conduct while on Wellington’s staff, 224-6;
dismissed, 226.

Graham, Sir Thomas, general, resigns his claims of seniority over
Beresford, 230;
moves across the Douro, 303;
operations of his column, 322-33;
in operations round Burgos, 354-62;
at combat of Osma, 374;
at Vittoria, 395;
his attack on Reille, 405;
on the Upper Zadorra, 424-35;
discussion of his tactics at Vittoria, 447-8;
in pursuit of French in Biscay, 456;
attacks Maucune, 474;
attacks and drives Foy from Tolosa, 477-82;
besieges St. Sebastian, 564-86.

Grant, Colquhoun, colonel, at combat of Morales, 331;
at Vittoria, 395, 413, 419, 435;
nearly captures King Joseph, 441.

Grant, William, brigadier in 7th Division, at Vittoria, 422-3.

Guernica, combats of, 266.

Guerrilleros, the, activity of, 189, 190;
Napoleon’s failure to estimate importance of, 257;
their operations in the spring of 1813, 258-78.

Guingret, captain, his exploit at Tordesillas, 83, 84.

Halkett, Colin, brigadier commanding K.G.L., on retreat from Burgos,
69, 83;
at Vittoria, 425.

Hallowell, Benjamin, admiral, bombards Tarragona, 496, 498;
protests against Murray’s re-embarkation, 509, 512;
effects the embarkation, 514;
dissuades Murray from another attack on Tarragona, 516;
hails Bentinck’s arrival, 520;
his dispatch to Wellington, 521.

Harispe, Jean Isidore, general, defeats Spaniards at combat of Yecla,
286-7;
at battle of Castalla, 292;
left by Suchet in command in Valencia, 500.

Harrison, John B., colonel, defends Bejar against Foy, 240-1.

Hay, Leith, captain, his notes on Vittoria campaign, 336, 364;
exchanged on eve of Vittoria, 397, 416.

Hill, Robert, major-general, commanding cavalry brigade at Vittoria,
395, 419;
in pursuit of Gazan, 439;
guards town of Vittoria, 441, 455.

Hill, Sir Rowland, lieutenant-general, warns Wellington of King
Joseph’s advance on Madrid, 66, 67, 93;
his retreat from Madrid, 96-110, 118;
in operations round Salamanca, 113-42;
on retreat to Rodrigo, 137-53;
his orders for 1813, 303;
operations of his column, 314-18;
halts at Salamanca, 319;
takes command of southern wing of Wellington’s army, 320;
forces Reille to withdraw before him, 356-7;
at Vittoria, 395;
blockades Pampeluna, 527;
in the Bastan, 530;
drives out Gazan, 536;
absent from the combat of Maya, 585, 626;
abandons the pass of Maya, 638;
marches to Lizaso, 681-2;
attacked by D’Erlon at Beunza, 702-5;
in pursuit of Soult, 708-9;
re-occupies pass of Maya, 738.

Huebra, combat of the, 149.

Inglis, William, major-general, his brigade at second Sorauren, 697.

Jones, John, colonel (R.E.), notes on siege of Burgos, 25, 28 _n._,
35 _n._, 41 _n._, 49, 50 _n._, 171 _n._;
and on St. Sebastian, 566.

Joseph Napoleon Bonaparte, King of Spain, advances on Madrid, 66;
joined by Soult and Suchet, 87;
his quarrel with Soult, 88, 89;
in pursuit of Hill, 99, 108;
before Salamanca, 124;
his accusations against Soult, 140;
returns to Salamanca, 141;
marches on Madrid, 155;
Napoleon’s criticism of, 169;
his return to Madrid, 184-6;
receives news of Napoleon’s retreat from Russia, 239-40;
abandons Madrid, 247;
at Valladolid, 335;
summons Clausel to join him, 356;
abandons Burgos, 357;
at Miranda, 366;
retires on Vittoria, 377;
reconnoitres the position with Jourdan, 397;
orders retreat, 433;
escapes from British cavalry, 441;
at Salvatierra, 451;
at Pampeluna, 462;
fixes his head-quarters at St. Jean de Luz, 532;
orders concentration at St. Jean-Pied-du-Port, 541;
superseded by Soult, 550;
his fall, 567;
retires to Mortefontaine, 552;
appreciation of, 552-6.

Jourdan, Jean Baptiste, marshal, with King Joseph, 87;
in pursuit of Hill from Madrid, 106, 108;
in operations round Salamanca, 124-39;
returns to Salamanca, 141;
returns to Madrid, 186;
orders concentration of forces to oppose Wellington, 337-9;
at Burgos, 354-8;
misconception of Wellington’s movements, 372-3, 387-8, 398;
his dispositions at Vittoria, 401-7;
comment on Gazan’s disobedience, 431;
orders retreat on Pampeluna, 433;
his remarks on the battle, 452;
estrangement from King Joseph, 532;
disgraced by Napoleon, 556;
later history of, 556.

Kempt, James, major-general, at combat of San Millan, 375;
his passage of the Zadorra, 407-8;
at Vittoria, 418.

La Hermandad, stormed by Vandeleur, 423.

Lamartinière, general, joins King Joseph, 355, 365;
at Vittoria, 404, 435;
abandons Vera, 544;
on the Linduz, 649;
at Sorauren, 668;
at second Sorauren, 693;
at Yanzi, 722;
at Echalar, 735.

Lameth, general, at Santoña, 266, 271.

Larpent, Francis, appointed Judge-Advocate General, with the army, 238;
reports Wellington’s plans for encircling Soult, 717.

Lerin, combat of, 263.

Leval, Jean François, general, evacuates Madrid, 340;
at Vittoria, 393, 401, 413, 429;
in the Bastan, 535, 539.

Linduz, defence of the, by Ross’s brigade, 618.

Linzoain, combat of, 653.

Liverpool, Robert, Earl of, prime minister, his relations with
Wellington, 214-16;
Wellington’s correspondence with, 300;
he suggests transferring Wellington to Germany, 558-61.

Long, Robert, major-general, in operations round Salamanca, 135;
informs Wellington of Soult’s movements, 647.

Longa, Francisco, colonel, his activity in the North, 253, 254;
surprises Palombini at Poza, 261;
escapes from Sarrut, 274;
on the Ebro, 370;
brings his division up before Vittoria, 381, 387, 396;
in the attack on Reille, 405, 424;
seizes Durana, 427;
sent to Biscay in pursuit of Maucune, 454, 471;
harasses Foy’s retreat, 472, 475;
at combat of Tolosa, 478-80;
captures garrison of Passages, 486;
at Yanzi, 720-4.

Mackenzie, John, general, commanding at Alicante, 58, 163;
superseded by Clinton, 164, 275;
at battle of Castalla, 291-7;
at Tarragona, 492;
protests against Murray’s abandonment of siege, 511;
his advance on Valdellos, 515.

Mackenzie, Mr., British secret agent, offers Russian troops for the
Peninsula, 220, 221.

Madrid, evacuated by Hill, 106;
occupied by King Joseph, 108;
evacuated by him, 109, 110;
occupied again for the winter, 186;
King Joseph leaves it, 218, 247;
the French abandon it for the last time, 340.

Maitland, Hon. T., major-general, commanding at Alicante, 4, 163, 275.

Maransin, Jean Pierre, general, at Vittoria, 392;
at Maya, 542, 629;
at Beunza, 703;
at Venta de Urroz, 711;
at Echalar, 735.

Marmont, Auguste, marshal, Duke of Ragusa, Napoleon’s criticism of,
169;
estimate of, 172-3;
his remarks on the War of Spain, 257.

Masséna, André, marshal, Prince of Essling, abortive appointment of,
to command in Spain, 33.

Mathieu, Maurice, general, governor of Barcelona, demonstrates
against Murray, 503-5;
relieves Tarragona, 517.

Maucune, general, attacks Wellington before Burgos, 64, 65;
enters Burgos, 68;
in pursuit of Wellington, 70-9;
repulsed at combat of Villa Muriel, 79-82;
in operations round Salamanca, 130;
at combat of San Millan, 375;
escorts a convoy from Vittoria, 386;
resists Graham’s advance, 475;
attacks the heights of Sorauren, 671;
his division routed at second Sorauren, 692;
at Yanzi, 723;
and at Echalar, 735.

Maya, first combat of, 542, 585;
second combat of, 617-39.

Medico, El, guerrillero leader, at Toledo, 97.

Melville, Robert, Lord, fails to supply help for blockade of St.
Sebastian, 567-8.

Mendizabal, Gabriel, general commanding Seventh Spanish Army, 253;
opposes Clausel, 262;
at Castro-Urdiales, 265;
acts in conjunction with Graham near Tolosa, 478, 481;
at siege of St. Sebastian, 523, 566.

Mermet, Julien, general, at Vittoria, 404, 427.

Mijares, Francisco, general, defeated at combat of Yecla, 286.

Mina, F. Espoz y, his operations round Pampeluna, 55;
holds Navarre, 191, 255;
Napoleon’s remarks on, 259;
opposes Abbé, 262;
defeats Barbot at combat of Lerin, 263;
defeated and dispersed by Clausel, 269;
threatens Clausel’s retreat, 461, 463.

Miranda, José, major, defends Alba de Tormes, 125-32.

Morales, combat of, 331.

Morillo, Pablo, general, 98, 112, 119, 134, 184, 305-11, 315;
at Vittoria, 394, 400, 419, 429;
in pursuit of the French, 439;
blockades Pampeluna, 527;
at Roncesvalles, 611, 614;
sent to assist Hill, 704.

Murray, Sir George, general, restored to Wellington as Q.M.G., 226;
his advice as to pursuit of Clausel, 455;
dispatches orders before Sorauren, 667.

Murray, Sir John, general, supersedes Campbell at Alicante, 275;
his campaign against Suchet, 281-98;
wins battle of Castalla, 293-6;
his failure to carry out Wellington’s plans, 311;
his orders from Wellington, 488;
embarks, 490;
his half-hearted attack on Tarragona, 493-4;
his miserable hesitations, 505-9;
re-embarks troops, 511;
abandons Copons, 513;
his futile advance on Valdellos, 515;
superseded by Bentinck, 520;
his explanations to Wellington, 511;
court-martial on, in 1814, 521, 561.

Napier, William, colonel, historian, his comments on Clausel’s
retreat, 18 and _note_, 40 _n._;
on siege of Burgos, 49, 77;
on Wellington’s retreat to Rodrigo, 133, 145 _n._, 149 _n._;
on Wellington’s campaign of 1812, 170;
his criticism of Jourdan at Vittoria, 389;
reports Wellington’s account of his scheme for encircling Soult, 717.

Napoleon, Emperor, nominates Reille to command army of Portugal, 33;
receives news of Joseph’s quarrel with Soult, 89;
his dissatisfaction with conduct of the War in Spain, 168-9, 218;
his disastrous retreat from Russia, 185, 215, 239, 241;
supersedes Caffarelli by Clausel, 193;
his delusions regarding the war in Spain, 250, 251;
his victories at Bautzen and Lützen, 355, 360;
anger at Foy’s re-crossing the Bidassoa, 487;
receives the news of Vittoria, 547;
his appreciation of Wellington’s schemes on the Pyrenean frontier,
557;
his perversions of Soult’s dispatches, 640, 641.

O’Callaghan, Hon. R. W., colonel, at Vittoria, 401, 419;
at Maya, 542;
at Beunza, 703.

Ocaña, combat of, 93.

O’Donnell, Enrique, Conde de Abispal, succeeds Ballasteros in command
of Army of Andalusia, 63, 307;
takes the forts of Pancorbo, 528;
blockades Pampeluna, 528;
marches to join Hill, 704.

O’Donoju, Juan, general, Spanish minister of war, 205;
Wellington’s censures on, 347.

Ompteda, Christian, colonel K.G.L., at Tolosa, 480.

Osma, combat of, 373-4.

Oswald, John, major-general, his insubordination on the Burgos retreat,
150-2;
at Vittoria, 424-6, 437;
at St. Sebastian, 567, 571, 578, 583.

Pack, Denis, major-general, marches on Burgos, 3, 17;
at siege of Burgos, 26, 47, 48;
retreats from Burgos, 67;
in operations round Salamanca,134;
at Vittoria, 396, 424, 437;
at combat of Villareal, 475;
at combat of Tolosa, 478;
at Sorauren, 666, 677.

Paget, Sir Edward, general, sent to Spain as second-in-command, 53;
attacks Maucune, 65, 66;
taken prisoner on Salamanca retreat, 147.

Pakenham, Sir Edward, major-general, offers Wellington siege-guns for
Burgos, 40;
takes command of the 6th Division, left at Medina de Pomar, 370;
opposed to Clausel at Vittoria, 459;
superseded by Clinton, 462;
replaces Pack, 689.

Palencia, stormed by Foy, 78-81.

Palombini, general, operations of his Italian division in Castile, 260,
261;
and in Biscay, 265-7;
at Santoña, 265;
at Guernica, 266;
at siege of Castro-Urdiales, 271, 274.

Pampeluna, King Joseph at, 462;
siege of, 528-9.

Pancorbo, forts of, reduced by O’Donnell, 528.

Pannetier, general, attempts to relieve Tarragona, 501, 514-15.

Paris, general, defends Saragossa, 468;
evacuates it, 599.

Parque, The Duque del, successor of Ballasteros, commanding Army of
Andalusia, 63, 307, 311;
co-operation with Murray, 489, 502;
attacks on the Xucar, 515.

Passages, harbour, arrival of Wellington’s siege train at, 569.

Pastor, El, guerrillero chief, 254, 266, 267, 365.

Pellew, Sir Edward, admiral, makes naval demonstration off the coast
of the Ampurdam, 503;
brings Bentinck to take command at Balaguer, 520.

Penne Villemur, Conde, cavalry general, 98, 119, 132.

Picton, Sir Thomas, lieut.-general, at Vittoria, 409;
crosses the Zadorra with the 3rd Division, 411;
at Ariñez, 418;
joins Cole at Linzoain, 651;
at second battle of Sorauren, 698;
pursues Foy, 698-9.

Plässwitz, Armistice of, 360;
its effect on Wellington’s policy, 525, 737.

Ponsonby, Hon. William, major-general, brings his brigade to join
Graham, 323;
at Vittoria, 395, 419.

Popham, Sir Home, commodore, sends ammunition to Wellington at
Burgos, 39;
offers guns, 40;
his operations on coast of Biscay, 54, 55, 57, 58 _n._, 176, 177,
253-4.

Porlier, Juan Diaz, general, heads Asturian insurgents, 254;
at combat of Tolosa, 478.

Poza de la Sal, combat of, 261.

Prevost, William, colonel, sent to take the Col de Balaguer, 491, 500;
rejoins Murray, 514, 515.

Pringle, William Henry, major-general, at Villa Muriel, 80-1;
at Maya, 626;
at combat of Beunza, 703.

Provisional Battalions, controversy concerning, 232-3.

Puente Larga, combat of, 102-5.

Ramsay, Norman, captain R.A., unjust treatment of, 456-8.

Regency of Portugal, dealings of, with Wellington, 207-8, 209.

Regency of Spain, dealings of, with Wellington, 201-4;
displaced, 205;
its successors, 205.

Regent, the, George, Prince of Wales, creates Wellington field-marshal,
442.

Regent of Portugal, Prince John, 206-7.

Reille, Honoré Charles, general, commanding Army of Portugal, his
failure to cope with the guerrilleros, 190;
sends Boyer across the Esla, 327;
his position before Burgos, 354;
retreats before Hill, 356, 357, 367;
at combat of Osma, 373, 374;
at Vittoria, 393, 404, 435;
his orderly retreat, 436-9, 451;
sent to guard the frontier of France, 459;
abandons the bridge of Behobie, 487;
appointed to command the right wing of the army under Soult, 594;
checked on the Linduz, 617-21, 649;
at Sorauren, 665, 675;
at second Sorauren, 695;
retreat, 698;
at combat of Yanzi, 720-4;
at Ivantelly, 735.

Rey, Emanuel, general, at Vittoria, 401;
governor of St. Sebastian, 483, 567;
his gallant defence, 570, 574, 586.

Robinson, Frederick, major-general, at Vittoria, 406.

Roche, Philip K., general, commands Spanish division at Alicante, 275;
at battle of Castalla, 291.

Roncal, combat of, 269.

Roncesvalles, combat of, 608-20.

Ross, Robert, major-general, at Roncesvalles, 613;
at Sorauren, 656, 662;
at second Sorauren, 694;
at Echalar, 734.

Rouget, general, defends Bilbao, 267;
at combat of Tolosa, 481.

Salamanca, operations round, 111-42;
recovered by the Allied Army, 317.

Sanchez, Julius, in retreat from Burgos, 67, 68, 69;
at Ciudad Rodrigo, 153;
operations in Castile, 305, 315;
in pursuit of French, 364.

San Miguel, hornwork of, at Burgos, stormed, 27;
blown up by Wellington, 48;
again destroyed by the French, 355.

San Millan, combat of, 375.

San Muñoz, combat of, 149.

Santocildes, José Maria, general, commanding Galician army on the
Douro, 6;
evacuates Valladolid, 9;
joins in pursuit of Clausel, 16.

Santoña, relieved by Palombini, 265.

Sarrut, general, 270;
joins King Joseph before Vittoria, 365;
killed at Vittoria, 404, 425.

Scovell, George, major, Wellington’s cypher-secretary, appointed to
command Staff Corps Cavalry, 2, 37.

Silveira, Francisco, Conde de Amarante, driven from Zamora by Foy, 11;
takes command of the Portuguese Independent Division, 314;
at Vittoria, 395, 419;
in the Bastan, 527, 536;
at the combat of Beunza, 626.

Skerrett, John B., major-general, joins Hill with his column, 95;
evacuates Aranjuez, 97;
at combat of Puente Larga, 102-5;
at Vittoria, 419.

Smith, Charles, major, engineer at St. Sebastian, 565, 569, 578.

Somers-Cocks, Captain the Hon. John, storms San Miguel, 27, 28;
killed at Burgos, 38.

Somerset, Lord Fitzroy, carries Wellington’s message from Sorauren,
660.

Sorauren, first battle of, 654-80;
second battle of, 692-706;
casualties at, 738, 739.

Souham, Joseph, general, supersedes Clausel in command of Army of
Portugal, 33;
receives reinforcements, 54, 55;
advances to relieve Burgos, 64-8;
enters Burgos, 68;
his pursuit of Wellington, 68-85;
joins Soult, 121;
superseded by Drouet, 129.

Soult, Nicolas, Jean de Dieu, marshal, duke of Dalmatia, evacuates
Andalusia, 2, 56;
advances on Madrid, 66;
his quarrel with King Joseph, 87-9;
in pursuit of Hill, 99-121;
unites with Army of Portugal and Army of the Centre, 121;
ineffective attack on Alba de Tormes, 122, 123;
operations round Salamanca, 124-39;
King Joseph’s accusations against, 140;
his pursuit of Wellington, 140-51;
turns back on the Huebra, 151;
Napoleon’s estimate of, 169;
at Toledo, 187;
recalled to France, 217, 243;
supersedes Joseph, 550, 587;
his proclamation to the troops, 588;
character and career of, 589-91;
reorganizes the army, 591-8;
seizes Maya and Roncesvalles, 620;
his report to Napoleon, 640;
repulsed at Sorauren, 663-80;
retreat, 681-705;
his discouragement, 736-7.

Soult, Pierre, general, in pursuit of Hill, 105-8;
crosses the Tormes, 131;
King Joseph’s strictures on, 140;
at Vittoria, 393, 428;
at Sorauren, 668.

Spry, William, brigadier-general, at St. Sebastian, 573, 586.

St. Sebastian, Rey governor of, 483;
Foy’s attempt to reinforce it, 484;
blockade of, 485;
siege of, 562-86;
natural features of, 562;
abortive storm of, 575-82;
its siege abandoned, 586, 606.

Staff Corps Cavalry, formation of the, 237.

Stapleton Cotton, _see_ Cotton.

Stewart, Sir William, lieut.-general, his disobedience during the
retreat from Salamanca, 150-2;
Wellington’s complaints against, 226, 227;
absent at the time of the attack on Maya, 626, 627;
returns to take command, 634;
at combat of Venta de Urroz, 711.

Stuart, Sir Charles, British minister member of Regency of Portugal,
209;
Wellington’s correspondence with, 211, 221.

Stubbs, George, colonel, commanding Portuguese brigade, at Vittoria,
414, 419;
at Sorauren, 656;
at second Sorauren, 694.

Suchet, Louis Gabriel, duke of Albufera, marshal, advances on Madrid,
66;
his quarrels with King Joseph and Soult, 88, 89;
gathering of Spanish and British armies against, 162-6;
precarious position of, 279-81;
his campaign against Murray, 281-98, 488-500;
defeated at battle of Castalla, 292-309;
marches to relieve Tarragona, 501;
finds his advance blocked by Fort Balaguer, 515;
withdraws across the Ebro, 516.

Sumbilla, combat of, 718, 719.

Tarragona, defences of, 493;
siege of, 496;
relieved by Mathieu, 517.

Thackeray, Frederick, major, senior engineer at siege of Tarragona,
497;
protests against Murray’s abandonment of the siege, 511.

Thouvenot, general, governor of Vittoria, 378, 470.

Tiebas, combat of, 262.

Tolosa, combat of, 477-81.

Tomkinson, William captain 16th Light Dragoons,
his diary of events on the Douro, 6 _n._, 14 _n._, 15 _n._,
16 _n._, 18 _n._, 28 _n._, 38 _n._;
on Reille’s retreat, 438.

Tordesillas, exploit of Captain Guingret at, 83.

Toro, French garrison of, relieved by Foy, 10;
junction of Wellington and Hill at, 331-3.

Torquemada, riotous scenes at, 77.

Torrens, Henry, colonel, military secretary to Duke of York,
Wellington’s correspondence with, 224.

Tovey, George, captain, bayonet charge of his company on the Linduz,
618.

Treillard, Jean Paul, general, at Vittoria, 428;
at Sorauren, 688.

Vacani, Camillo, historian, with Palombini, 264-8;
his account of Tarragona, 496.

Valdemoro, riotous scenes at, 102, 105.

Valladolid, occupied by Clausel, 9;
his eviction by Wellington, 14;
abandoned by Wellington, 84;
King Joseph makes it his capital, 247;
evacuated by the French, 344.

Vandeleur, J. Ormsby, major-general, at combat of San Millan, 375;
at Vittoria, 412;
storms La Hermandad, 423.

Vandermaesen, general, at Roncesvalles, 615;
at Sorauren, 668;
at second Sorauren, 695;
at combat of Sumbilla, 718;
at Echalar, 734.

Venta del Pozo, combat of, 71-4.

Venta de Urroz, combat of, 711;
casualties at, 739.

Vera, abandoned by Lamartinière, 544.

Villacampa, Pedro, general, acts under Elio, 280, 281, 298.

Villadrigo, combat of, 75.

Villafranca, combat of, 475.

Villa Muriel, combat of, 79-82.

Villareal, combat of, 473.

Villatte, general, driven from Salamanca, 316-19;
at Vittoria, 393, 402;
attacks Morillo and the 71st, 415;
retirement of, 416, 429;
Soult’s complaints of, 713;
commands Bayonne reserve, 595;
his torpor, 602, 713.

Villena, castle of, capitulates to Suchet, 287, 288.

Vittoria, battle of, 384-450;
retreat of the French from, 433-50.

Wachholz, Ludwig, captain, notes of, 432;
on combat of the Linduz, 618-19.

Waldron, John, captain, exploit of, at Castalla, 295.

Wellesley, Hon. Henry, ambassador to Spain, his correspondence with
Wellington, 196-7, 525;
his dealings with the Regency of Spain, 205.

Wellesley, Richard, marquis, resigns from Perceval Cabinet, 214.

Wellington, Arthur Wellesley, Marquis of, marches to Burgos, 3;
crosses the Douro, 12-13;
his pursuit of Clausel, 16-20;
siege of Burgos, 21-51;
his instructions to Hill, 57;
retreats from Burgos, 66-86;
orders Hill to retire from Madrid, 99;
his reasons for retreat, 111;
operations round Salamanca, 111-37;
retreats on Ciudad Rodrigo, 137-53;
his strictures on officers commanding divisions and brigades, 156-61;
criticism of his campaigns of 1812, 170-6;
at Freneda, 194;
made Generalissimo of Spanish armies, 196-204;
at Cadiz, 201;
on Portuguese finance, 211-13;
his relations with Whitehall, 214-24;
with the Duke of York, 223-4;
intrigues of Gordon against, 224-6;
his plan for campaign of 1813, 299-305;
plan for Tarragona expedition, 308;
leaves Hill in command of Southern Army, 320;
joins Graham, 329;
occupies Toro, 331-3;
his plan for transferring British base to the Bay of Biscay, 348-9;
for driving the French out of the Peninsula, 359;
his operations on the Ebro, 364-82;
plan of attack at Vittoria, 394;
his derogatory remarks on his army, 452, 453;
marches for Navarre, 455;
severity towards Norman Ramsay, 456-8;
pursues Clausel in vain, 467;
his orders for Murray’s expedition to Tarragona, 488;
dissatisfaction with Murray, 521;
influence of Armistice of Plässwitz on his plans, 525-6;
in the Bastan, 537-43;
in correspondence with Bathurst and Liverpool, rejects their
suggestion of transfer to Germany, 558, 561;
controversy with Melville, 567-8;
goes to St. Sebastian, 585;
his dispositions for the defence of the Pyrenees, 603-6;
concentrates against Soult, 647, 659;
his ride to Sorauren, 658-62;
prepares to attack Soult, 694;
at second Sorauren, 694-701;
pursuit of Soult, 707-40;
renounces advance into France, 737-40.

Whittingham, Sir Samford, general, his Spanish division, 163, 276;
at combat of Albeyda, 282;
at battle of Castalla, 293, 294;
in the Tarragona expedition, 492.

Wimpffen, Louis, general, Spanish chief of the staff to Wellington, 201.

Xixona, plot to betray, 279.

Yanzi, combat of, 720-4.

Yecla, combat of, 286-7.

York, Frederick, Duke of, his relations with Wellington, 223;
opposes Beresford’s claims to seniority, 228, 229;
disapproves of Provisional Battalions, 232-4.

Yrurzun, combat of, 461.

Zadorra, the river, its importance in battle of Vittoria, 384;
crossed by Kempt, 407;
by Picton, 411;
Reille’s defence along, 435.

Zamora, French garrison of, relieved by Foy, 11;
occupied by Daricau, 327;
occupied by Graham, 330.

[Illustration: THE CAMPAIGN OF VITTORIA May 22nd.-June 21st., 1813

Map to illustrate the positions of the armies at the commencement of
hostilities and the subsequent marches of Wellington’s Columns.]

FOOTNOTES

[1] August 23, from Madrid, _Dispatches_, ix. p. 374.

[2] Certainly Carlos de España and Morillo, probably some of the
Galicians, and even some of Elio’s or Ballasteros’ troops from the
South, if they proved able to feed themselves and march.

[3] _Dispatches_, ix. p. 424, to General Dumouriez, to whom Wellington
often sent an illuminating note on the situation.

[4] _Dispatches_, ix. pp. 390-1. Alten had the 3rd, 4th, Light, and
España’s divisions.

[5] _Dispatches_, ix. p. 377.

[6] Ibid., ix. pp. 383-4 and 386-7.

[7] Ibid., ix. p. 398.

[8] The best account of all this is in the diary for August of
Tomkinson of the 16th Light Dragoons, who was in charge of the outlying
party that went to Valtanas.

[9] The actual numbers (as shown in the tables given in vol. v,
Appendix xi--which I owe to Mr. Fortescue’s kindness) were July 15,
49,636; August 1, 39,301. The deficiency of about 600 cavalry lost had
been more than replaced by Chauvel’s 750 sabres. There was a shortage
of twenty guns of the original artillery, but Chauvel had brought up
six.

[10] Dispatch printed in _King Joseph’s Correspondence_, ix. p. 64.

[11] Clausel to Clarke, August 18th, 1812.

[12] The 2nd, 4th, 6th, and 25th Léger, the 1st, 15th, 36th, 50th,
62nd, 65th, 118th, 119th, 120th Line had to cut themselves down by
a battalion each: the 22nd and 101st, which had been the heaviest
sufferers of all, and had each lost their eagle, were reduced from
three to one battalion each. There had been seventy-four battalions
in the Army of Portugal on July 1st: on August 1st there were only
fifty-seven.

[13] See ‘Memorandum for General Santocildes’ of August 5.
_Dispatches_, ix. pp. 344-5.

[14] _Dispatches_, ix. pp. 389-90.

[15] The best account of all this is not (as might have been expected)
in Foy’s dispatches to Clausel, but in a memorandum drawn up by him in
1817 at the request of Sir Howard Douglas, and printed in an appendix
at the end of the life of that officer (pp. 429-30). Sir Howard had
asked Foy what he intended to do on the 23rd-27th August, and got a
most interesting reply.

[16] Diary of Foy, in Girod de l’Ain’s _Vie militaire du Général Foy_,
p. 182.

[17] Wellington to Bathurst, August 18th.

[18] Wellington to Castaños, September 2. _Dispatches_, ix. p. 394.

[19] See especially Sir Howard Douglas’s _Memoirs_, pp. 206-7, and
Tomkinson’s diary, p. 201. Napier is short and unsatisfactory at this
point, and says wrongly that Clausel abandoned Valladolid on the night
of the 6th. His rearguard was certainly there on the 7th.

[20] Castaños’s explanation was that Wellington’s letter of August 30,
telling him to march on Valladolid, did not reach him till the 7th
September, along with another supplementary letter to the same effect
from Arevalo of September 3.

[21] ‘The proclamation was made from the town-hall in the square: few
people of any respectability attended.’ Tomkinson, p. 202.

[22] Tomkinson, p. 203.

[23] Wellington to Henry Wellesley, Magaz, September 12. _Dispatches_,
ix. p. 422.

[24] Napier, iv. p. 335.

[25] Napier was not with the main army during this march, the Light
Division being left at Madrid. On the other hand Clausel had been very
polite to him, and lent him some of his orders and dispatches (Napier,
iv. p. 327). I fancy he was repaid in print for his courtesy. The
diaries of Tomkinson, Burgoyne, D’Urban, and Sir Howard Douglas do not
give the impression that the French ever stayed to manœuvre seriously,
save on the 16th.

[26] Head-quarters were at Valladolid, September 9; Cigales, September
10; Dueñas, September 11; Magaz, September 12; Torquemada, September
13; Cordovilla, September 14; Villajera, September 15; Pampliega,
September 16; Tardajos, September 17; Villa Toro, September 18. Ten
stages in about 80 miles!

[27] Wellington to Sir E. Paget, September 20. _Dispatches_, ix. p. 436.

[28] One of the regiments withdrawn to the north after suffering at
Arroyo dos Molinos, see vol. iv. p. 603.

[29] Wellington to Castaños. _Dispatches_, ix. p. 394.

[30] Wellington to George Murray. _Dispatches_, ix. p. 398.

[31] Wellington to Lord Bathurst. _Dispatches_, ix. p. 442.

[32] Jones, _History of the Peninsular Sieges_, i. p. 473.

[33] There were eight rank and file of the Royal Military Artificers
only, of whom seven were hit during the siege, and five R.E. officers
in all.

[34] By an odd misprint in Wellington’s _Supplementary Dispatches_,
xiv. p. 120, the order is made to allot the flank-_battalions_ instead
of the flank-_companies_ to the task.

[35] This narrative of the assault, not very clearly worked out in
Napier--is drawn from the accounts of Burgoyne, Jones, the anonymous
‘Private Soldier of the 42nd’ [London, 1821], and Tomkinson, the latter
the special friend and confidant of Somers Cocks.

[36] Wellington to Lord Bathurst. _Dispatches_, ix. pp. 443-4.

[37] For a dispute between the chief engineer, Burgoyne, who blamed the
Portuguese, and some officers in the Portuguese service who resented
his words, see Wellington, _Supplementary Dispatches_, xiv. p. 123.

[38] Clarke to Marmont of August 18, and to Masséna of August 19.

[39] Napoleon to Clarke, Moscow, September 12.

[40] See Wellington to Hill of October 2. _Dispatches_, ix. p. 463.

[41] Jones, i. p. 329.

[42] Indeed the besiegers had largely depended on a dépôt of French
picks and shovels found by chance in the town of Burgos, after the
siege had begun.

[43] See especially Tomkinson, an old comrade of Cocks in the 16th
Light Dragoons, pp. 211-17.

[44] Wellington says 18 prisoners in his return. Dubreton claimed to
have taken 2 officers and 36 men in his report. Possibly the difference
was mortally wounded men, who were captured but died.

[45] _Dispatches_, ix. p. 450.

[46] Ibid., ix. p. 465.

[47] See Wellington to Castaños of 7 October. _Dispatches_, ix. p. 477.

[48] See Napier, iv. p. 412, who had the fact from Sir Edward
Pakenham’s own mouth.

[49] Howard Douglas’s proposal to get up big guns at once on September
20 is detailed at length in his biography, pp. 210-11. Napier has a
good deal to say on it. Jones and Burgoyne tell nothing about it,
but they were evidently nettled at the idea that Douglas, who had no
official position in the army, should have raised a proposal and got
Wellington to listen to it. I fancy that Douglas is one of the officers
alluded to by Burgoyne (_Correspondence_, i. p. 234) as unauthorized
persons, who volunteered useless advice. Gomm, p. 287, says, ‘we have
set to work idly without having the means we might have commanded.’

[50] Burgoyne, i. p. 220.

[51] Ibid., i. p. 233.

[52] Alexander Dickson remarks in his diary, p. 772, ‘This was done
to please General Clinton, and had nothing to do with the attack.’
Clinton’s troops were opposite this side of the Castle, and had as yet
not been entrusted with any important duty.

[53] Jones, i. p. 357.

[54] For this dialogue, told at length, see Burgoyne’s
_Correspondence_, ed. Wrottesley, i. p. 235.

[55] So I make out from the returns, but Beamish’s and Schwertfeger’s
Histories of the K.G.L. both give the lesser figure of 75--still
sufficiently high!

[56] Wellington to Lord Bathurst, October 26.

[57] Burgoyne’s _Correspondence_, i. p. 236.

[58] Dubreton and Belmas speak of a ‘grand nombre d’Anglais écrasés,’
the latter says 300! (Belmas, iv. pp. 501 and 548). Putting aside the
fact that there were no _English_ here at all, we may remark that
Burgoyne (i. p. 226) says that _three_ Spaniards were buried in the
ruins, and that the loss of the Portuguese in the whole affair is put
at 8 killed, 44 wounded, and 2 missing in Wellington’s report.

[59] By knocking off their remaining trunnions, which made them
permanently useless. Some of the captured French field-guns from the
hornwork were also destroyed.

[60] For detailed losses see table in Appendix I.

[61] See vol. v. pp. 255-6.

[62] Burgoyne commanding, John Jones the historian, Captain Williams,
and Lieutenants Pitts and Reid.

[63] Burgoyne, i. p. 230.

[64] Ibid., i. p. 233. There is much more in this interesting page of
Burgoyne’s explanation of the failure, which I have not space to quote.

[65] See above, pp. 3-4.

[66] Pringle was commanding the 5th Division (Leith being wounded);
Bernewitz the 7th (Hope having gone home sick on September 23):
Campbell, in charge of the 1st since Graham was invalided, was off duty
himself for illness when relieved by Paget. Bock commanded the Cavalry
Division vice Stapleton Cotton, wounded at Salamanca.

[67] Clearly expressed in letters as late as that to Hill of October 12.

[68] Viz. (figures of the Imperial Muster Rolls for October 15)
Army of Portugal 32,000 infantry, 3,400 cavalry; Army of the North:
Chauvel’s cavalry brigade (lent to the Army of Portugal since July)
700 sabres, Laferrière’s cavalry brigade 1,600 sabres, parts of Abbé’s
and Dumoustier’s divisions 9,500 infantry. Allowing another 2,000 for
artillery, sappers, &c., the total must have reached 53,000. Belmas
says that Caffarelli and Souham had only 41,000 men. Napier gives
them 44,000. Both these figures are far too low. No one denies that
Caffarelli brought up about 10,000 men; and the Army of Portugal, by
the return of October 15, had 45,000 effectives, from whom there are
only to be deducted the men of the artillery park and the ‘équipages
militaires.’ It must have taken forward 40,000 of all arms. See tables
of October 15 in Appendix II.

[69] Wellington on the 11,000 Galicians, Hill on Carlos de España
(4,000 men), Penne Villemur and Murillo (3,500 men), and the Murcian
remnants under Freire and Elio, which got separated from the Alicante
section of their Army and came under Hill’s charge, about 5,000.

[70] i. e. if they brought up Suchet’s troops from Valencia, beside
their own armies.

[71] Wellington to Hill, October 10. _Dispatches_, ix. p. 82.

[72] Wellington to Hill, October 12. Ibid., p. 485.

[73] Wellington to Popham, October 12. Ibid., p. 486.

[74] Wellington to Mackenzie, October 13. _Dispatches_, ix. p. 487.

[75] See Wellington to Hill of October 14, and Wellington to Popham of
October 17. Ibid., pp. 490 and 495.

[76] _Dispatches_, ix. p. 467.

[77] Schepeler, pp. 672-3.

[78] Wellington to Hill, October 5. _Dispatches_, ix. p. 469: ‘I do
not write to General Ballasteros, because I do not know exactly where
he is: but I believe he is at Alcaraz. At least I understand he was
ordered there [by the Regency]. Tell him to hang upon the left flank
and rear of the enemy, if they move by Albacete toward the Tagus.’

[79] Wellington to Popham. _Dispatches_, ix. p. 494.

[80] See above, pp. 1-2.

[81] Wellington says in his Dispatch to Lord Bathurst of October 26
that the Brunswick officer disobeyed orders, and was taken because he
did not retire at once, as directed.

[82] Souham to Clarke, October 22.

[83] This is the figure given by Colonel Béchaud in his interesting
narrative of the doings of Maucune’s division (_Études Napoléoniennes_,
ii. p. 396). Martinien’s lists show 3 casualties of officers only, all
in the 86th of Maucune’s division.

[84] For details see Wellington’s Order of March in _Supplementary
Dispatches_, xiv. pp. 144-5.

[85] The wheels of the artillery were all muffled with straw. The
cavalry went at a walk.

[86] So Colonel Béchaud’s narrative, quoted above, and most valuable
for all this retreat.

[87] These figures look very large--and exceed Napier’s estimate of
5,000 sabres. But I can only give the strength of the French official
returns, viz. Curto’s division 2,163, Boyer’s division 1,373, Merlin’s
brigade 746, Laferrière’s brigade 1,662; total 5,944. All these units
were engaged that day, as the French narrative shows, except that 4
only of the 6 squadrons of gendarmerie in Laferrière’s brigade were at
the front.

[88] Owing to losses at Garcia Hernandez and Majadahonda the Germans
were only 4 squadrons, under 450 effective sabres. The Light Dragoons
of Anson, all three regiments down to 2-squadron strength, made up
about 800.

[89] See vol. iv. pp. 565-9.

[90] Who was not himself any longer at their head, having been killed
in a private quarrel some weeks before. His men were this day under his
lieutenant Puente (Schepeler, p. 680).

[91] To Caffarelli’s high disgust: see his dispatch to Clarke of
October 30, where he calls Boyer’s action a ‘fatalité que l’on ne peut
conçevoir.’

[92] As Lumley did at Usagre against L’Allemand, see vol. iv. p. 412.

[93] Anson’s brigade fought, it is said, with only 600 sabres out of
its original 800, owing to heavy losses in the morning, and to the
dropping behind of many men on exhausted horses, who did not get up
in time to form for the charge. Bock’s brigade was intact, but only
400 strong. Of the French brigade 1,600 strong on October 15 by its
‘morning state’ two squadrons out of the six of gendarmes were not
present, so that the total was probably 1,250 or so engaged.

[94] Most of this detail is from the admirable account of von
Hodenberg, aide-de-camp to Bock, whose letter I printed in _Blackwood_
for 1913. There is a good narrative also in Martin’s _Gendarmerie
d’Espagne_, pp. 317-19.

[95] In a conversation with Foy (see life of the latter, by Girod de
l’Ain, p. 141) when he said that _all_ the cavalry generals of the
Army of Portugal except Montbrun, Fournier, and Lamotte were ‘mauvais
ou médiocres’--these others being Curto, Boyer, Cavrois, Lorcet, and
Carrié.

[96] Details are worth giving. The 2nd Dragoons K.G.L. had 52
casualties, the 1st 44. In Anson’s brigade the 11th Light Dragoons lost
49, the 12th only 20, the 16th 47. The officers taken prisoners were
Colonel Pelly and Lieutenant Baker of the 16th, Major Fischer (mortally
wounded) of the 1st Dragoons K.G.L., and Captain Lenthe and Lieutenant
Schaeffer of the 2nd Dragoons K.G.L. The two infantry battalions had 18
casualties, of whom 13 were men missing, apparently skirmishers cut off
in the fight earlier in the day on the Hormaza, or footsore men who had
fallen behind.

[97] H. Sydenham to Henry Wellesley, printed in _Wellington
Supplementary Dispatches_, vii. pp. 464-5. Sydenham understates,
however, the available force when he says that Anson had only 460
sabres and Bock only two squadrons. Hodenberg diminishes less, but
still too much, when he gives Bock 300 sabres and Anson 600. The real
numbers are given above.

[98] Napier, iv. p. 361. Corroboration may be had on p. 120 of the
_Journal_ of Green of the 68th, who says that his colonel was much
puzzled to know how so many men had succeeded in getting liquor, and
that one soldier was drowned in a vat, overcome by the fumes of new
wine.

[99] This was Bonnet’s old division: Chauvel had been commanding it
since Bonnet was disabled at Salamanca. But he had been wounded by a
chance shot at Venta del Pozo on the 23rd, and Gauthier, his senior
brigadier, had taken it over.

[100] Some 27 men of the 3/1st, taken prisoners here, represent this
party in the casualty list of October 25. The battalion was not
otherwise seriously engaged.

[101] Who were drawn from the 4th, 30th, and 44th.

[102] For a romantic story of how one was discovered see Napier, iv. p.
363, a tale which I have not found corroborated in any other authority.

[103] I had not been able to make out how the 1/9th came to lose these
prisoners till I came on the whole story in the Autobiography of Hale
of the 1/9th, printed at Cirencester 1826, a rare little book, with a
good account of this combat. He is my best source for it on the British
side.

[104] Hale, p. 95, quoted above.

[105] I have been using for the French side mainly the elaborate
and interesting narrative of Colonel Béchaud of the 66th, recently
published in _Études Napoléoniennes_, ii. pp. 405-11.

[106] See Béchaud, p. 410.

[107] These modest figures of Foy’s report to Souham are much
exaggerated in most French narratives of the affair.

[108] There is a full account of this business in Foy’s dispatch to
Souham of the next morning, in which occur all the facts given by
Guingret in his own little book. That officer’s narrative must be taken
as fully correct.

[109] All this from Burgoyne, i. p. 244. Napier does not mention the
earthworks, which were batteries for six guns each.

[110] There he wrote his dispatch, concerning the late combats, to
Clarke. Napier never mentions Caffarelli’s departure--a curious
omission.

[111] p. 437.

[112] See vol. v. pp. 538-9.

[113] Deprez, travelling with great speed, reached Paris and
interviewed Clarke on September 21. The Minister, who was no friend of
Soult’s, told him that neither he himself nor the King could dare to
depose the Marshal without the Emperor’s permission. Deprez then posted
on to Moscow, and overtook the Emperor there on October 18. Napoleon
in his reply practically ignored the quarrel, contented himself with
administering a general scolding to all parties, and directed them to
‘unite, and diminish as far as possible the evils that a bad system had
caused.’ But who had inaugurated the system? He himself!

[114] Joseph to Clarke, September 7.

[115] See Soult to Joseph of October 11, and other days.

[116] Which were the 27th Chasseurs and 7th Polish Lancers.

[117] For details see Table of the Army of Spain of the date October
15th, in Appendix II to this volume.

[118] Joseph to Soult, Valencia, October 12.

[119] See above, vol. v. p. 332.

[120] Napier and Jourdan say that Cearra was killed; but he only
suffered concussion of the brain, and survived to tell Schepeler (p.
688) how his sword and its sheath were melted into one rod of metal
by the lightning which ran down the side of the couch on which he was
lying at the moment.

[121] See, e. g., Schepeler (p. 689), who was present.

[122] See _Dispatches_, ix. p. 518.

[123] This is clearly stated in Wellington’s note to Hill of October
10. _Dispatches_, ix. p. 481.

[124] Ibid., p. 485.

[125] When Penne Villemur moved in, and went behind the Tagus, I cannot
make out exactly. But it was before October 25th, as at that time
Erskine’s British cavalry had no longer any screen in front of them.

[126] All these dispositions come from a table of routes sent to
D’Urban by Jackson, Hill’s chief of the staff (Quartermaster-general),
on the 24th.

[127] Jackson, Q.M.G., to D’Urban, 27th night: ‘Sir Rowland has
determined to concentrate behind the Jarama, on account of the state of
the fords upon the Tagus, and their number,’ &c.

[128] They had been at Arganda behind the Tajuna on the previous day,
when Hill was still thinking of defending the line of the Tagus. See
_Diary of Leach_, p. 287.

[129] Jackson to D’Urban, October 27: ‘Keep your patrols on the Tagus
as long as they can with prudence stay there, with orders to follow the
march of your main body.’ On the next day the order is varied to that
quoted above.

[130] Owing to disgraceful carelessness on the part of a brigadier
of the British 2nd Division much of the boat-bridge of Fuente Dueñas
(which had been brought over to the north bank) had not been burnt when
the troops retired. Many boats were intact; some of the French swam
over, and brought back several of them. (D’Urban MSS.)

[131] Wellington to Hill, Cabezon, October 27. _Dispatches_, ix. pp.
518-19.

[132] See for this Wachholz (of the Fusilier brigade), Schepeler,
Purdon’s history of the 47th, &c. Wachholz’s Brunswick Company
straggled so that of 60 men he found only 7 with him at night. Several
were lost for good. Wellington put the colonel of the 82nd under
arrest, because he had lost 80 men this day.

[133] D’Erlon’s old division now commanded by this brigadier.

[134] Always a reckless falsifier of his own losses (he said that he
had only lost 2,800 men at Albuera!), Soult wrote in his dispatch
that he had only about 25 wounded at the Puente Larga. The figure I
give above is that of the staff-officer d’Espinchel, whose memoirs
are useful for this campaign. By far the best English account is that
of H. Bunbury of the 20th Portuguese (_Reminiscences of a Veteran_,
i. pp. 158-63). I can only trace three of the five French officers
in Martinien’s lists--Pillioud, Caulet, Fitz-James, but do not doubt
d’Espinchel’s figures though his account of the combat is hard to
fit in with any English version. He speaks with admiration of the
steadiness of the defence.

[135] All this from Soult’s dispatch to the King of October 31, from
Valdemoro, and Jourdan’s to Clarke from Madrid of November 3rd.

[136] See _Diary of Swabey, R.A._, p. 428, in _Journal of the Artillery
Institution_, vol. xxii.

[137] The importance of the second evacuation of Madrid is brought
out by no historian of the war except Vacani, vi. pp. 188-90. Napier
barely mentions it. A curious story of the fate of certain English
prisoners of Hill’s army, who were forgotten in prison, and came out
again to liberty when the French army moved on, may be found in the
autobiography of Harley of the 47th Regiment.

[138] Napier (iv. p. 373) says that Joseph left a garrison and his
impedimenta in Madrid--I can find no trace of it in the contemporary
accounts, e. g. of Romanos (_Memorias de un Setenton_) or of Harley
who was about the town during the second week of November. Vacani
distinctly says that Joseph had to take on even his sick (vi. p. 190).
Cf. also Arteche, xi. pp. 309-12.

[139] Napier, iv. p. 373, says that Joseph went by the route of Segovia
to Castile. I cannot think where he picked up this extraordinary idea.
Jourdan’s dispatch of November 10 from Peñaranda gives all the facts.
It was on the 5th, near Villacastin, that Soult told Joseph that Hill
was about to be joined by Wellington and that the two might crush him.
The King at once sent orders to Drouet to come up by forced marches
from Madrid. The Army of the Centre started next day. Palombini did not
get off till the 8th (Vacani, vi. p. 190), but the head of the column
reached Villacastin that same day.

[140] Wellington to Hill, November 3. _Dispatches_, ix. p. 532.

[141] His first definite information as to this was from a Spaniard who
on November 4 saw 3,000 French infantry marching through Torquemada
towards Burgos (_Dispatches_, ix. p. 544). Even so late as November 8th
he did not rely on this important news as correct.

[142] From Rueda, November 5, morning. _Dispatches_, ix. p. 537.

[143] They had really not the 50,000 on which Wellington speculated
(’45,000 men I should consider rather below the number’ (_Dispatches_,
ix. p. 544) ) but 60,000 or very nearly that number. But, on the day
when Wellington was writing, their rear had not even started from
Madrid, and Soult’s 40,000 men were strung out all along the road.

[144] As a matter of fact, using the best map of 1812 available to me
(Nantiat’s), it would seem that the line Rueda-Fuentesauco-Salamanca is
about 50 miles, that by Rueda-Nava del Rey-Pitiegua-Salamanca about 55
miles, while the route suggested for the French, circuitous and running
in more than one place by country cross-paths, is over 65 miles long,
not to speak of its being a worse route for topographical reasons.

[145] An under-estimate by several thousands. Wellington did not know
of Aussenac’s brigade from Bayonne, over 3,000 men, which had now been
attached provisionally to the Army of Portugal.

[146] The total which marched was 60,000, so Wellington was even more
correct than he supposed in his notion that 45,000 was too small a
figure.

[147] Wellington to Lord Bathurst, Pitiegua, November 8. _Dispatches_,
ix. pp. 544-5.

[148] _Dispatches_, ix. p. 520.

[149] Wellington to Hill, Rueda, November 5. _Dispatches_, ix. p. 537.

[150] Ibid., p. 539.

[151] I cannot find the details of the marching orders of the
divisions; but from personal diaries I seem to deduce that the 5th and
7th Divisions marched by Alaejos, the 1st and 6th by Castrejon and
Vallesa, while the cavalry not only provided a rearguard but kept out
flank detachments as far as Cantalapiedra on one side and the lower
Guarena on the other.

[152] All this from the detailed routes of march in the dispatches of
Jackson (Hill’s Q.M.G.) to D’Urban on November 4-5-6.

[153] See his dispatch of November 8 from Flores de Avila.

[154] For an adventure with these rascals, who threatened to shoot one
of Hill’s aides-de-camp, see Schepeler, p. 691.

[155] The ground on which Del Parque had fought his unlucky battle in
1809.

[156] These movements from Jourdan to Clarke, of November 10, and Soult
to Clarke of November 12.

[157] See the Notes of the Baden officer Riegel (vol. iii. p. 537), who
complains bitterly of the piercing north wind, and the lack of wood to
build fires.

[158] D’Espinchel (ii. p. 71) says that the voltigeurs got within the
walls, but were expelled on each occasion. The English narratives deny
that they ever closed, or reached the barricades.

[159] Soult to Joseph, 8 a.m. on the 11th, ‘bivouac sur la hauteur en
arrière d’Alba de Tormes.’

[160] General Hamilton’s account of the business (Dispatch to Hill,
_Wellington Dispatches_, ix. p. 558) is very clear. There is also
a good account of the Alba fighting in Colonel Gardyne’s excellent
history of the 92nd.

[161] All their names verifiable from Martinien’s admirable lists of
‘_Officiers tués et blessés_.’

[162] See Jourdan’s _Mémoires_, p. 441, for the meeting.

[163] Wellington to Hill, November 10, 4.30 p.m. (_Dispatches_, ix. p.
549).

[164] Same to same, November 11 (ix. p. 550).

[165] Same to same, pp. 550-1.

[166] Jourdan to Joseph, head-quarters at Peñaranda: early on November
12.

[167] Soult to Joseph, night of November 11, from the bivouac behind
Alba de Tormes.

[168] As the table of the French Armies of Spain for October 15 in the
Appendix shows, the Army of the South had on that day 47,000 men under
arms (omitting ‘sick’ and ‘detached’), the Army of the Centre 15,000,
the Army of Portugal 45,000 (including Aussenac’s brigade and Merlin’s
cavalry, both attached to it provisionally). This gives a total of
107,000, without sick or detached. The Army of Portugal may have lost
1,000 men in action at Villadrigo and Villa Muriel, &c.: the Army of
the South not more than 400 at the Puente Larga, Alba de Tormes, &c.
The Army of the Centre had not fought at all. A deduction has to be
made for Soult’s very large body of men attached to the Artillery Park,
and for a smaller number in the Army of Portugal--say 3,000 men for the
two together. Souham had left a small garrison at Valladolid--perhaps
1,500 men. If we allow 5,000 men for sick and stragglers between
October 20 and November 12 there must still have been a good 90,000 men
present. Miot (who was present) calls the total 97,000 (iii. p. 254),
making it a little too high, I imagine.

[169] Maucune and Gauthier (late Chauvel). See _Wellington Dispatches_,
ix. p. 556.

[170] Souham naturally expressed his indignation. See Miot, iii. p.
252-3.

[171] D’Urban reports on November 12th: ‘Enemy’s troops in continual
movement, and he made a careful reconnaissance of the river from Huerta
to Exeme [above Alba].’ On the 13th he writes: ‘The enemy moved all
his troops between Huerta and Alba by his left into the woods behind
Exeme on the high road to Avila. From thence he can either go in that
direction or cross the Tormes by fords above Alba bridge.’

[172] This fact, very important in justification of Wellington’s long
stay on San Cristobal, is not mentioned in any of his dispatches. But
there is a full account of the skirmish in the _Mémoire_ of Colonel
Béchaud of Maucune’s Division, printed in _Études Napoléoniennes_, iii.
pp. 98-9.

[173] The reconnaissance was executed by Leith Hay, who found the
French flank at Galisancho and reported its exact position. See his
_Narrative_, ii. pp. 99-100.

[174] Details from Foy’s _Vie militaire_, ed. Girod de l’Ain, p. 118,
and Béchaud (quoted above), pp. 99-100.

[175] His original intention to attack is clearly stated in
_Dispatches_, ix. p. 559, and the statement is corroborated by D’Urban.

[176] D’Urban, an eye-witness, thinks that Wellington ought to have
called up Hill and attacked, despite of all difficulties. ‘Lord
Wellington arrived upon the ground at about 12 noon, and at first
appeared inclined to attack what of the enemy had already passed, with
the divisions and cavalry on the spot. The success of such a measure
appeared certain, and would have frustrated all the enemy’s projects.
However, his opinion changed: they were allowed to continue passing
unmolested.’

[177] _Mémoires_, p. 448. Cf. also Napier, iv. p. 381, who seems to
share the idea. ‘Why, it may be asked, did the English commander,
having somewhat carelessly suffered Soult to pass the Tormes and turn
his position, wait so long on the Arapiles position as to render a
dangerous movement (retreat in face of the enemy and to a flank)
necessary?’

[178] This horrid reminiscence I found in the unpublished letters
of Hodenberg of the 1st Heavy Dragoons K.G.L., which I reprinted in
_Blackwood’s Magazine_ in the year 1913.

[179] Details about the exact drawing-up of the second line and
reserves seem impossible to discover. I have only accurate notes as
to the position of the front line and some of the cavalry and the 1st
Division.

[180] For doing this Jourdan criticized Soult for over-caution, and
wasting of time, describing this measure as timid and unnecessary.
_Mémoires_, p. 443.

[181] Donaldson of the 94th. _Recollections_, p. 179.

[182] The 4th Division formed the infantry rearguard on the southern
road, the Light Division that on the central road.

[183] Colonel James Willoughby Gordon seems not to have been a
success as quarter-master-general. Very soon after his arrival we get
notes in the earlier part of the Salamanca campaign that intelligent
officers ‘thought he would not stop long with the Army.’ Cf.
Tomkinson, p. 224: ‘Nothing could equal the bad arrangements of the
Quartermaster-General--the cavalry all retired by one road, allowing
that of the enemy to follow our infantry’ [of the central column on
November 18]--which was not covered, all the horse having gone on the
western or left road. Wellington had a worse accusation against him
than mere incapacity (of this more will be found in chap. iii of sect.
xxxv)--that of sending letters home which revealed military secrets
which got into the English papers. In September he made up his mind
that Gordon must not see his dispatches, and must be ‘kept at as great
distance as possible’ (_Supplementary Dispatches_, vii. pp. 427-8). He
was sent home before the next campaign.

[184] D’Urban’s diary.

[185] See Foy, _Vie militaire_, p. 190. He was a witness to the
conversation. And cf. Espinchel, _Mémoires_, ii. p. 73, who gets the
hour too late and exaggerates the contact of the armies. He says that
12 of Hill’s guns opened on the French light cavalry. Cf. also Joseph
to Clarke of December 20.

[186] Espinchel, ii. p. 73.

[187] Joseph to Clarke, in a long dispatch of December 20. Ducasse’s
_Correspondance du Roi Joseph_, ix. pp. 119-20.

[188] See above, p. 126.

[189] For the curious adventures of Captain v. Stolzenberg commanding
this little party, and of the horde which he shepherded, see
Schwertfeger’s History of the K.G.L., ii. pp. 262-3.

[190] _Mémoires_ of Béchaud, quoted above, p. 101.

[191] Foy, _Vie militaire_, pp. 189-90.

[192] Soult to King Joseph, Matilla, 16th November 1812.

[193] There is a good account of the skirmish in the _Mémoires_ of
Espinchel, ii. p. 73, who frankly allows that the French light cavalry
were both outmanœuvred and repulsed with loss. The returns of the three
French regiments show 22 killed, _no_ wounded, and 25 missing--an odd
proportion. Apparently the wounded must all have been captured. The 1st
Hussars K.G.L. had 7 wounded and 7 missing, the rest of Alten’s brigade
under 20 casualties. This brigade was now _three_ regiments strong
instead of two, having had the 2nd Hussars K.G.L. from Hill’s Army
attached to it at Salamanca.

[194] Napier says that the column went through Tamames, but no
2nd, 3rd, or 4th Division diary mentions that considerable town as
passed--they all speak of solitudes and oak-woods alone. Wellington’s
orders on the night of November 16 (_Supplementary Dispatches_, xiv. p.
157) give ‘La Neja’ as Hill’s destination, and this oddly spelt place
is undoubtedly Anaya de Huebra.

[195] Memoirs of Donaldson of the 94th, pp. 181-2.

[196] See the Memoirs of Grattan of the 88th, and Bell of the 34th.

[197] See Wellington’s Marching Orders for the 17th in _Supplementary
Dispatches_, xiv. pp. 157-8, for the cavalry. A perverse reading of
them might make the cavalry start too early for ‘the brook which passes
by La Maza and Aldehuela’, where they are told to be at dawn. They are
not actually directed to wait for the infantry rearguard.

[198] There is a full account of his capture in the memoirs of
Espinchel, ii. p. 77, the officer whose men took Paget prisoner.

[199] The movements of this day are made very difficult to follow by
the fact that Wellington in his dispatches (ix. 464-5) calls Hill’s
column the right, and the Spanish column the left, of the three in
which the Army marched. Vere’s _Diary of the Marches of the 4th
Division_ does the same. But these directions are only correct when the
army faced about and stopped to check the French. On the march Hill’s
was the left column, and the Spaniards the right. For this reason I
have called them the southern and northern columns respectively.

[200] Soult to Joseph, November 17, from before San Muñoz.

[201] So the regimental histories (both good) of these corps. Napier
gives one more company of the 43rd.

[202] Napier, iv. p. 385.

[203] Autobiography of Green of the 68th, p. 127.

[204] British ‘missing’ one officer (General Paget) and 111 men,
Portuguese ‘missing’ 66 men.

[205] Reminiscences of Hay, 12th Light Dragoons, p. 86.

[206] Espinchel commanded that which went farthest, to the bridge in
front of Santi Espiritus: he says that the whole road was lined with
broken-down carts and carriages, and strewn with dead men. About 100
British stragglers were gathered in.

[207] The tale may be found with details, told from Wellington’s point
of view, in _Supplementary Dispatches_, vii. p. 494. The chief offender
was W. Stewart, who had succeeded to the command of the 1st Division on
Paget’s capture the preceding day. The others Wellington describes as
‘new-comers’ so they must have been Oswald and Lord Dalhousie, for the
other divisional commanders in this column, Clinton and C. Alten, were
not in any sense ‘new-comers’. I think, therefore, that Mr. Fortescue
is wrong in giving the names of the culprits as Stewart, Dalhousie, and
Clinton.

[208] See Napier, iv. p. 386. But cf. Fitzroy Somerset’s version in
Greville Memoirs, i. pp. 136-7.

[209] Donaldson of the 94th, p. 184. Grattan (p. 315) has a story of a
Connaught Ranger who ate, in addition to his rations, six ox-heads on
six successive days, and died of inflammation of the bowels.

[210] Grattan, pp. 303 and 305-6.

[211] Seventeen of the Chasseurs Britanniques were tried all together
for desertion in October 1812! They were mostly Italians. And for one
man recaptured and tried, how many got away safely?

[212] See _Dispatches_, ix. pp. 601-2.

[213] See _Dispatches_, ix. pp. 562 and 570.

[214] See the Life of Burgoyne, who was sent to look after the
threatening symptoms, vol. i. p. 246.

[215] The troops of the Army of Portugal began to march east as early
as November 20, long before Soult got back into touch with them.
Jourdan to Clarke, from Salamanca, November 20.

[216] The 1st Division seems to have been quartered about the upper
Mondego between Celorico and Mangualde, the 3rd in villages between
Moimenta and Lamego, the 4th about São João de Pesqueira, the 5th,
Pack and Bradford, in the direction of Lamego, the 6th and 7th on the
lower Mondego and the Alva under the Serra da Estrella, as far as I
can make out from regimental diaries. There is no general notice as to
cantonments in the _Wellington Dispatches_ to help. But see General
Orders for December 1, 1812, as to the post-towns for each division.

[217] Their cases are in General Orders for 1813, pp. 51-3. Each was
condemned to six months’ suspension, but the members of the court
martial petitioned for their pardon, on account of the privations of
the time. Wellington grudgingly granted the request ‘not concurring
in any way in the opinion of the court, that their cases in any way
deserved this indulgence.’

[218] Bunbury, aide-de-camp to General Hamilton, referring to
Wellington’s memorandum, makes solemn asseveration that his troops got
no distribution whatever for those four days. The general himself had
no bread. Acorns were the sole diet.

[219] Private and unpublished diary of General D’Urban.

[220] Grattan of the 88th, p. 307.

[221] Tomkinson, p. 227.

[222] They had been ordered in May 1812, but had not been distributed
by November. See _Dispatches_, ix. p. 603.

[223] The figures may be found on pp. 170-1 of the Statistical
‘Ejércitos Españoles’ of 1822, referred to in other places.

[224] See Tables in Appendix. The British battalions were 1/27th and
a grenadier battalion formed of companies of the regiments left in
Sicily. The light battalion was formed of companies from the 3rd, 7th,
8th Line of the K.G.L. and from de Roll and Dillon. The Italians were
‘2nd Anglo-Italian Levy’. There was a field battery (British), but only
13 cavalry (20th Light Dragoons).

[225] See p. 279, below.

[226] See Suchet, _Mémoires_, ii. p. 269.

[227] The best account is in Gildea’s _History of the 81st Regiment_,
pp. 104-8.

[228] _Dispatches_, ix. p. 487.

[229] 161 of the 20th Light Dragoons, and 71 of the ‘Foreign Hussars,’
a newly raised corps, mainly German, which did very creditably in 1813.

[230] Wellington to Lord Bathurst. _Dispatches_, ix, p. 535.

[231] _Dispatches_, ix. p. 545.

[232] See Wellington to H. Clinton (W. Clinton’s brother) on December 9
(_Dispatches_, ix. p. 614), and to Lord Bathurst (ibid., p. 616).

[233] Wellington to Lord Liverpool, _Dispatches_, ix. p. 573.

[234] These figures seem to represent about 1,400 prisoners at Rodrigo,
4,000 at Badajoz, 300 at the Almaraz forts, 600 at the Salamanca
forts, 7,000 at the battle of Salamanca, 2,000 at the Retiro, 1,300 at
Astorga, 700 at Guadalajara, with 2,000 more taken in smaller affairs,
such as the surrenders of Consuegra and Tordesillas, the combat on
the Guarena, the pursuit after Salamanca, and Hill’s operations in
Estremadura.

[235] This looks a large figure, but over 150 guns were taken at
Rodrigo, more than that number at Badajoz, several hundred in the
Retiro, and infinite numbers in the Cadiz lines and the arsenal of
Seville, not to speak of the captures at Astorga, Guadalajara, Almaraz,
and in the field at Salamanca, &c.

[236] Foy, _Vie militaire_, p. 193. Napoleon to Clarke, October 19,
1812.

[237] Report of Colonel Desprez to Joseph of his interview with the
Emperor at Moscow on October 19th. _Correspondance du Roi Joseph_, ix.
p. 178.

[238] Ibid., p. 179.

[239] See above, vol. v, pp. 194-5.

[240] Napier’s statement that Napoleon was thinking of this project
when he declared Soult to be the ‘only military head in Spain’ is
entirely unjustified by the context from which he is quoting. The
Emperor therein makes no allusion to the Seville project. See Ducasse’s
_Correspondance_, ix. pp. 178-9.

[241] See his letter quoted above, vol. v, pp. 255-6.

[242] Jones, _Sieges of the Peninsula_, ii. p. 430.

[243] Jones remarks that ‘we had to leave it to the valour of the
troops to surmount intermediate obstacles which in a properly conducted
siege would be removed by art and labour’ (_Sieges_, i. p. 163).

[244] See above, vol. v, p. 270.

[245] See above, vol. v, p. 316.

[246] Wellington to Lord Liverpool, _Dispatches_, ix. p. 574.

[247] Memorandum for Baron Alten, Madrid, 31st August 1812.

[248] The bad weather on the Tagus only began October 30th.

[249] See above, pp. 112-13.

[250] See above, p. 142.

[251] Not including 2/59th at Cadiz, but including the 1/6th, 20th, and
91st which only landed in November, and the battalions of the 1st Foot
Guards which had only just joined during the Burgos retreat.

[252] The Portuguese infantry had suffered quite as heavily--cold being
very trying to them, though summer heat affected them less than the
British. The 20th Portuguese, starting on the retreat from Madrid with
900 men, only brought 350 to Rodrigo.

[253] 4,400 for the infantry, 350 for cavalry, plus drafts for
artillery, &c.

[254] Where the new Second Guards Brigade had a dreadful epidemic of
fever and dysentery, and buried 700 men. It was so thinned that it
could not march even in May, and missed the Vittoria campaign.

[255] Brigades were not always kept together, the regiments being a
little scattered. Individual battalions were in Baños, Bejar, Bohoyo,
Montehermoso, &c.

[256] Jourdan, _Mémoires_, p. 449.

[257] See _Correspondance du Roi Joseph_, ix. p. 462.

[258] For a curious narrative of adventures in Madrid, November 4-10,
by a party of English prisoners who escaped in the confusion that
followed the outmarch of the French, see the Memoirs of Captain Harley
of the 47th, ii. pp. 42-50.

[259] Fortunately for themselves most of King Joseph’s Spanish
partisans, who fled from Madrid in July to Valencia, were still under
Suchet’s charge and had not returned, or their lot would have been a
hard one.

[260] _Miot de Melito_, iii. p. 258.

[261] The 2nd Division (see above, p. 90) had been taken from Soult and
lent to the Army of the Centre during the operation of November. It was
never given back.

[262] A good picture of the state of Central Spain in January and
February 1813 may be got from the Memoirs of d’Espinchel, of the 2nd
Hussars, an officer charged with the raising of contributions in La
Mancha--a melancholy record of violence and treachery, assassination
by guerrilleros and reprisals by the French, of villages plundered and
magistrates shot. D’Espinchel had mainly to deal with the bands of El
Medico and the Empecinado. See his _Souvenirs militaires_, pp. 86-110.

[263] Vide v. pp. 550-8.

[264] See Mina’s Life of himself, pp. 39-43. He declares that the
French custom-house at Yrun paid him 100 _onzas de oro_ (£300) a month,
for leave to pass goods across the Bidassoa.

[265] The remains of Thomières’ unlucky division, cut to pieces at
Salamanca--the 1st, 65th, and 101st Line.

[266] 64th Line.

[267] _Correspondance du Roi Joseph_, ix. p. 224.

[268] Jourdan, _Mémoires_, p. 452.

[269] Clarke to King Joseph, _Correspondance du Roi_, ix. p. 186.

[270] See vol. ii, pp. 465-6.

[271] For text see Toreno, iii. p. 149.

[272] _Wellington Dispatches_, ix. p. 467.

[273] Ibid., pp. 474-5, October 5.

[274] Bathurst to Wellington, October 21. _Supplementary Dispatches_,
vii. p. 462.

[275] See above, pp. 61-2.

[276] Roughly correct: the joint force of the Castilian and
Estremaduran divisions in October 1812 was 8,000 men with the
colours--there were some 7,000 men in dépôts and garrisons.

[277] In November the 3rd Army had about 5,000 men with the colours,
3,000 in dépôt: the 2nd, 7,000, excluding the guerrilleros of the
Empecinado and Duran.

[278] Two days later Wellington sent Carvajal a definite instance
of this friction. The Civil Intendant of Old Castile had collected
a magazine for the benefit of the garrison of Rodrigo. The
Captain-General had seized it, and used it to support his own staff.
_Dispatches_, ix. p. 623.

[279] Wellington to Carvajal. _Dispatches_, ix. pp. 604-5.

[280] For the exact text of the reply see the Spanish Minister of War’s
letter. _Supplementary Dispatches_, xiv. pp. 170-1.

[281] See _Supplementary Dispatches_, vii. pp. 529-30 and 546.

[282] Wellesley to Castlereagh. _Supplementary Dispatches_, vii. p. 530.

[283] They were the Duke of Infantado, Admiral Villaviciencio, and
Señors Ignacio Rivas, Mosquera, and Villamil. The last two were reputed
very anti-British.

[284] This Act had been a great demonstration of the ‘Liberales’, and
they were desirous of punishing certain canons and bishops who had
refused to read it publicly in their cathedrals; an odd parallel to the
case of James II and the Seven Bishops in English history.

[285] Including the presentation of a thundering letter from the
British Prince-Regent: see H. Wellesley to Wellington, July 28,
_Supplementary Dispatches_, viii. p. 160 and ibid., p. 188.

[286] See especially below the difficulties with the Galician army as
to ammunition, and the Andalusian reserve as to transport and magazines.

[287] _Dispatches_, x. pp. 211-12.

[288] See _Dispatches_, x. p. 181, when Wellington writes in March:
‘There is not a single battalion or squadron fit to take the field, not
in the whole kingdom of Spain a dépôt of provisions that would keep one
battalion for one day--not a shilling of money in any military chest.’

[289] _Wellington Dispatches_, x. p. 199.

[290] See above, vol. iii. pp. 193, 415-17, and iv. p. 71. The best
sketch of the personalities of the Portuguese regency is that in
Lord Wellesley’s _Memorandum respecting Portugal_, in _Wellington
Dispatches, Suppl._, vii. pp. 199-204, a very interesting document.

[291] Now Marquis de Borba by his father’s death in 1812.

[292] See e. g. _Wellington Dispatches_, x. pp. 37 and 106-7.

[293] See e. g. the cases dealt with in _Wellington Dispatches,
Suppl._, vii. pp. 240 and 316.

[294] e. g. _Wellington Dispatches_, x. p. 129, and another case
accompanied by the murder of a soldier, x. p. 117.

[295] See _Wellington Dispatches_, x. pp. 131, 191, and 201.

[296] See _Wellington Dispatches_, x. p. 88 and ix. p. 615.

[297] See Wellington to Forjaz, _Dispatches_, ix. p. 353.

[298] See Wellington to Bathurst, ibid., ix. pp. 461-2.

[299] Wellington to the Prince-Regent of Portugal, _Dispatches_, x. pp.
284-7.

[300] Wellington to Stuart, ibid., x. pp. 342, &c.

[301] See Meneval’s _Mémoires_, iii. p. 317.

[302] It was generally known in London next day. See Sir G. Jackson’s
_Memoirs_, iii. p. 447.

[303] Liverpool to Wellington. _Supplementary Dispatches_, vii. pp.
502-3.

[304] Lord Liverpool doubted whether Prussia or Austria would move.
Prussia might stir, if only she was sure that Austria would support
her. But ‘the councils of Vienna at this time are abject.’

[305] Though on February 17 Wellington heard of the departure northward
of the 7th (Polish) Lancers, and some squadrons of Gendarmerie
belonging to the Army of the North. But this was too small a move to
serve as the base of a deduction. _Dispatches_, x. p. 125.

[306] Wellington to Bathurst. _Dispatches_, x. p. 177.

[307] Ibid., p. 207, March 17.

[308] By an intercepted letter from the King to Reille, dated March 14,
now in the ‘Scovell Cyphers,’ which mentions both facts.

[309] Wellington to Graham, April 7. _Dispatches_, x. p. 270.

[310] In the ‘Scovell Cyphers,’ like the dispatch quoted above.

[311] Wellington to Bathurst, January 26. _Dispatches_, x. p. 39; cf.
ibid., p. 256.

[312] _Supplementary Dispatches_, vii. pp. 601-2, April 7.

[313] Wellington to Bathurst. _Dispatches_, x. p. 307.

[314] For details see Schwertfeger’s _History of the K.G.L._, vol. i,
pp. 500-50.

[315] See letters in von Wacholz’s Diary, pp. 311-12. It is doubtful if
the men, largely waifs and prisoners of all nations, felt the same zeal
as the officers.

[316] See vol. i, pp. 371, &c.

[317] _Supplementary Dispatches_, vii. pp. 449-50.

[318] Henry Wellesley to Wellington. _Supplementary Dispatches_, x, pp.
571-3.

[319] Bathurst to Wellington, _Supplementary Dispatches_, vii. 577, and
Castlereagh to Sir Charles Stuart, ibid., p. 586, March 3, 1813.

[320] See above, vol. v, pp. 342-7.

[321] Wellington to Bathurst. _Dispatches_, x. pp. 384-5.

[322] For this forgotten raid in December 1813, see _Études
Napoléoniennes_, 1914, p. 191. For the Genoa affair see C. T. Atkinson
in the _R.U.S.I. Journal_, 1915.

[323] See Wellington to Torrens, May 28, 1812. _Dispatches_, ix. p.
182. Yet Wellington, unconsulted though he had been, expresses his
thanks to the Duke for fixing upon a successor to Murray.

[324] _Creevey Papers_, i. p. 173.

[325] _Supplementary Dispatches_, vii. pp. 427-8.

[326] _Supplementary Dispatches_, vii. p, 457.

[327] Oddly enough, Wellington wanted the Duke of York to take the
initiative and odium, by appointing Gordon to a home post. The Duke
refused, holding that Wellington must take the responsibility.

[328] _Supplementary Dispatches_, vii. p. 499.

[329] Ibid., p. 527.

[330] See examples on page 138, above.

[331] See above, pp. 151-2.

[332] See Wellington to Torrens, _Supplementary Dispatches_, vii. pp.
494-5.

[333] Ibid., p. 486.

[334] _Wellington Dispatches_, ix. p. 592.

[335] Wellington to Bathurst, _Supplementary Dispatches_, vii. p. 484.

[336] Duke of York to Bathurst, _Supplementary Dispatches_, vii. pp.
516-17.

[337] He was bothering Lord Bathurst for a peerage, which he was not
yet destined to obtain. _Supplementary Dispatches_, vii. p. 515. He was
put off with the colonelcy of a cavalry regiment.

[338] Bathurst to Wellington, _Supplementary Dispatches_, vii. pp.
538-9.

[339] Ibid., vii. pp. 577-8.

[340] The 2nd, 20th, 51st, 68th, 74th, 77th, 94th Regiments.

[341] The 9th, 11th, 24th, 27th, 30th, 34th, 39th, 44th, 47th, 53rd,
58th, 66th, 81st, 83rd, 87th, as also _Chasseurs Britanniques_ and
Brunswick-Oels.

[342] 2nd, 2/24th, 2/30th, 2/31st, 2/44th, 51st, 2/53rd, 2/58th,
2/66th, 68th, 2/83rd, 94th.

[343] 1st Prov. Batt. = 2/31st and 2/66th; 2nd = 2nd and 2/53rd; 3rd =
2/24th and 2/58th; 4th = 2/30th and 2/44th.

[344] e.g. the 51st and 68th. _Wellington Dispatches_, ix. p. 609.

[345] The Duke to Wellington, _Supplementary Dispatches_, vii. pp.
524-5.

[346] Wellington to Torrens, _Dispatches_, x. pp. 77-8.

[347] The Duke to Wellington, _Supplementary Dispatches_, vii. p. 553,
February 17.

[348] Ibid., vii. pp. 581-3.

[349] The 2/30th and 2/44th.

[350] The 51st, 68th, 2/83rd, and 94th.

[351] 2nd, 2/24th, 2/31st, 2/53rd, 2/58th, 2/66th.

[352] 7th, 10th, 15th, 18th Hussars.

[353] 2/59th (from Cadiz), 2/62nd, 76th, 77th (from Lisbon garrison),
2/84th, 85th.

[354] On all this the reader interested in military finance will
find excellent commentaries in chap. i of vol. ix of Mr. Fortescue’s
_History of the British Army_, which appeared three months after this
chapter of mine was written.

[355] See _Supplementary Dispatches_, xiv. p. 212.

[356] Ibid., vii. pp. 539-41.

[357] He was captured by a raiding party, while watching the enemy from
too short a distance, on August 31.

[358] So Clarke to the King, _Corresp. du Roi Joseph_, vol. ix. p. 189.

[359] Jourdan, _Mémoires_, p. 452.

[360] See _Corresp. du Roi Joseph_, ix. p. 187.

[361] See account in the Memoirs of Patterson of the 50th, pp. 303-5.

[362] See dispatch in Girod’s _Vie militaire du Général Foy_, pp.
386-7. The whole is written in a boastful and unconvincing style,
unworthy of such a good soldier. Colonel Harrison’s report is
singularly vague and short. He only says that the enemy made off,
leaving their dead behind.

[363] Desprez to Joseph, from Paris, January 3, _Corresp. R. J._ ix.
pp. 180-2.

[364] _Nap. Corresp._ xxiv, no. 19411.

[365] See vol. v. pp. 538-9.

[366] Miot de Melito, iii. pp. 263-4.

[367] See above, pp. 215-16.

[368] Two regiments which had only two battalions in February 1813 got
cut down to one apiece.

[369] A brigade not a division, since the Hessian regiment perished at
Badajoz.

[370] He had also later to give up the 22nd, a weak one-battalion
regiment of 700 bayonets.

[371] See above, p. 188.

[372] Even the 2nd Dragoons, the first regiment scheduled, though it
started in March, shows casualties at Vittoria, so did not get away.

[373] See Joseph to Suchet, _Correspondance_, ix. p. 200.

[374] See _Mémoires du Roi Joseph_, ix. p. 134.

[375] Clarke to Joseph, _Correspondance_, ix. p. 193 (February 2).

[376] Ibid. (February 12), pp. 194-5.

[377] Clarke to Joseph, February 12. Ibid., pp. 197-9.

[378] See above, p. 219.

[379] _Correspondance du Roi Joseph_, ix. p. 290, written just before
Clarke got news of Wellington’s start.

[380] See above, pp. 190-91.

[381] Dispatch of February 26, _Correspondance du Roi Joseph_, ix. p.
206.

[382] See vol. iv. p. 472.

[383] _Mémoires_, iv. p. 202.

[384] ‘Au lieu de les poursuivre, de les inquiéter, d’aller au devant
de leurs entreprises, on attendait la nouvelle de leurs tentatives
sur un point pour s’y porter soi-même: on agissait toujours après
l’événement.’ Clarke to Clausel, _Correspondance du Roi Joseph_, ix. p.
210.

[385] Clarke to Clausel, March 9, _Correspondance du Roi Joseph_, ix.
209-12--a very long and interesting dispatch, of which this is only a
short _précis_.

[386] For a long account of the Combat of Poza, see Vacani, vol. vi.
pp. 228-33.

[387] Martinien’s lists show casualties in the 3rd, 52nd, and 105th
Line and 10th Léger of Abbé’s division on this day, so he had clearly
gone out in force.

[388] The interesting dispatch of Leguia, the captor of Fuenterrabia,
will be found in the Appendix to Arteche, vol. xiii.

[389] Mina’s claim to have annihilated these unfortunate troops is
sustained by Martinien’s lists, which show 8 officers killed and 23
wounded in the 25th Léger and 27th Line, at Lerin, March 31. There
would not be more than 40 or 45 officers present with two battalions.

[390] Expressed at some length in the great guerrillero’s _Memoirs_.

[391] Who has a long and interesting narrative of the expedition in his
vol. vi. pp. 240-50.

[392] Vacani’s statement that the Italian division lost this day only
110 men, is made absurd by the lists in Martinien, which show that
the 4th, 6th, and 2nd Ligeros lost that day 3 officers killed and 16
wounded--which implies a total casualty list of at least 350.

[393] In Martinien’s lists there are five officer-casualties given for
this fight, but they do not include all the names of officers mentioned
as killed by Vacani in his narrative.

[394] Not the 24th as in Vacani and Belmas. See Girod de l’Ain’s _Life
of Foy_, p. 260.

[395] Figures in Belmas are (in detail) Foy’s own division (10
battalions) 5,513 men, Palombini’s (5 battalions) 2,474, artillery 409,
Sarrut’s division about 4,500. Foy left behind Aussenac’s brigade about
1,500, and the garrison of Bilbao about 2,000.

[396] For horrid details of mishandlings of both sexes see Marcel (of
the 6th Léger) in his _Campagnes d’Espagne_, pp. 193-4. Marcel is a
_raconteur_, but Belmas bears him out (iv. p. 566).

[397] Napier says the Spanish loss was 180--which seems more probable.
The British ships lost one officer and sixteen men wounded, by Bloye’s
report. As to the French loss, we have the names of 3 officers killed
and 6 wounded during the operation--which looks like 150 to 180
casualties.

[398] See above, vol. ii. p. 341.

[399] 1/10th, 1/27th, 1/58th, 1/81st, and 2/27th which came in time for
Castalla, also a battalion of grenadier companies of units in Sicily.

[400] 4th and 6th Line battalions, and a light battalion composed of
the light companies of 3rd, 4th, 6th, 7th, 8th, and of De Roll and
Dillon.

[401] Three companies of De Roll and four of Dillon--the whole making
up a battalion 800 bayonets and the Calabrese Free Corps.

[402] 1st and 2nd Italian Levy, and two battalions of Sicilian Estero
Regiment.

[403] Those of Villacampa, Mijares, and Sarsfield.

[404] For details see letter of February 22nd in Sir Samuel
Whittingham’s _Memoirs_, pp. 172-4. He says that Colonel Grant,
commanding the 2nd Italian Levy, had made himself cordially detested by
his men by ‘employing the minute worry of the old British School,’ and
that Bourke of the 1st Italian Levy had much more control over his men.

[405] Murray to Wellington. _Supplementary Dispatches_, xiv. p. 191.

[406] See his letter of March 19th, written after the skirmish: ‘Our
army is concentrating itself, and a few days I hope will bring on a
general action, in which I hope to play my part’ (_Memoirs_, p. 188).

[407] Murray to Wellington. _Supplementary Dispatches_, xiv. p. 200.

[408] Napier blames the British Government for having got things into
such a position of double command that Bentinck could withdraw from
Spain troops which he had sent there, and which had passed under
Wellington’s authority (v. p. 54). Wellington seems to have made no
objection to this particular recall (_Dispatches_, vii. p. 260),
thinking (I suppose) that the risk of losing Sicily was much more
serious than the deduction of 2,000 men from the Alicante side-show.
He wrote at any rate to Murray to send them off at once, if he had not
done so already. The fault, of course, lay with Bentinck, for denuding
Sicily before he was sure of the stability of the new Constitution.

[409] Murray to Wellington, April 2. _Supplementary Dispatches_, vii.
p. 605. The 6th K.G.L. was present at Castalla on April 13th.

[410] Wellington, _Dispatches_, x. p. 162.

[411] The best account of all this from the Spanish point of view is
a dispatch written by Colonel Potons y Moxica, Elio’s chief of the
staff, in the Record Office, ‘East Coast of Spain’ file. It is equally
valuable for the battle of Castalla.

[412] Consisting of 2/27th British, Calabrese Free Corps, 1st Italian
Levy, and the rifle companies of 3rd and 8th K.G.L.

[413] Two squadrons 20th Light Dragoons, the troop of Foreign Hussars,
and some of Whittingham’s Spaniards, two squadrons of Olivenza.

[414] I do not know who was commanding this division (3rd of the
Murcian army) in April: its divisional general, Sarsfield, was absent.
It included Bailen, Badajoz, America, Alpujarras, Corona, and Guadix:
O’Ronan had it in the preceding autumn.

[415] Potons y Moxica’s dispatch says that ‘la entrega del castillo
provino de una especie de sedicion en la tropa de Velez Malaga,’
which is conclusive. Why Napier (v. 57) calls Velez Malaga ‘the
finest regiment in the Spanish army’ I cannot conceive. It was one of
O’Donnell’s old regiments, cut to pieces at Castalla in the preceding
July, and hastily filled up with drafts. I suspect that Napier is
paraphrasing Suchet’s description of this corps as ‘mille hommes de
belles troupes.’ Except that they had been recently re-clothed from the
British subsidy, there was nothing ‘fine’ about them.

[416] In his own narrative he says that he sent in the 1st and 3rd
Léger, 14th, 114th, and 121st Line--a big deployment of forces.

[417] The best account of the combat of Biar is that of the anonymous
officer of the 2/27th, quoted at length by Trimble in his _History of
the Inniskilling Regiment_, pp. 61-2. See also the less trustworthy
Landsheit (of the ‘Foreign Hussars’), ii. pp. 86-9.

[418] De Roll-Dillon, 81st, and one of Whittingham’s Spanish
battalions. They had some casualties--the Spaniards 29, De Roll-Dillon
probably 25: its total casualty list for the days April 12-13 of 34
cannot be divided between the two actions.

[419] It is impossible to disentangle the losses of Adam’s brigade on
April 12 and April 13, given together in Murray’s report. But on the
second day the 2/27th regiment was the only unit seriously engaged.
The total for both days was killed 1 officer and 56 men, wounded 10
officers and 231 men, missing 32 men: or a total of 330. If we _deduct_
40 for assumed losses of the 2/27th on the second day, and 30 more for
casual losses of the other units on April 13--they were engaged but
not seriously--and _add_ 29 for losses in Whittingham’s battalion (he
gives the figure himself) and 25 (including 9 missing) for those in De
Roll-Dillon (which was barely under fire on the second day and lost 34
altogether), we must conclude that the total was very close to 300.

[420] The light company 7th K.G.L., two newly arrived squadrons of
Brunswick Hussars, and two batteries.

[421] 2/27th, Calabrese Free Corps, 1st Italian Levy, two light
companies K.G.L.

[422] 1/27th, 4th and 6th K.G.L., ‘Estero’ regiment (two battalions).

[423] 1/10th, 1/58th, 1/81st British, composite battalion of De
Roll-Dillon, 2nd Italian Levy.

[424] Cordoba, Mallorca, Guadalajara, 2nd of Burgos, 2nd of Murcia, 5th
Grenadiers.

[425] Chinchilla, Canarias, Alicante, Cazadores de Valencia,
Voluntarios de Aragon.

[426] Two squadrons each of Olivenza and Almanza.

[427] Napier, v. 58, quoting Donkin MSS., which are unpublished and
unfindable.

[428] Landsheit, ii. p. 91.

[429] Suchet says that to support the voltigeurs he sent in only _four_
battalions of the 3rd Léger and 121st--but most undoubtedly the 114th
attacked also, for it lost four officers killed and nine wounded, as
many as the 3rd Léger, and this means 250 casualties at least in the
rank and file.

[430] Whittingham, _Memoirs_, p. 197.

[431] Mr. Fortescue (_British Army_, ix. p. 43) seems rather to lean to
the idea that the staff, or at any rate Catanelli, resolved to force
Murray to fight despite of himself. This may have been the case.

[432] Cordoba and 2nd of Burgos.

[433] Guadalajara.

[434] Murcia, Majorca, and 5th Grenadiers.

[435] 1st Léger, in reserve on the Cerro del Doncel.

[436] During which occurred the dramatic duel in front of the line
between Captain Waldron and a French Grenadier officer mentioned in
Napier, v. p. 59. The picturesqueness of the story induced some critics
to doubt it. But there is no getting over the fact that Waldron gave
his opponent’s weapon, which was a sword of honour presented by the
Emperor, to the Quartermaster-General (Donkin), who forwarded it to
the Duke of York, and the Commander-in-Chief gazetted Waldron to a
brevet-majority in consequence. (See Trimble’s _Historical Record
of the 27th_, p. 64.) It is extremely odd (as Arteche remarks) that
Suchet in his short and insincere account of Castalla tells a story
of a _French_ officer who killed an English officer in single combat
(_Mémoires_, ii. p. 308).

[437] I am inclined to think the latter, as it is doubtful whether,
with the spur between, Adam’s fighting-ground was visible from
Whittingham’s.

[438] Taking Murray’s casualty list for comparison with Suchet’s, we
find that he had 4 officers killed and 16 wounded to 649 men at Biar
and Castalla, i. e. 1 officer to 32 men. But this was an exceptionally
low proportion of officers lost. At such a rate Suchet might have lost
2,000 men! I take 1,300 as a fair estimate.

[439] Cf. Wellington, _Dispatches_, x. pp. 354-5, in which Wellington
asks what sort of a victory was it, if Suchet was able to hold the pass
of Biar, only two miles from the battlefield, till nightfall?

[440] See Appendix on Castalla losses, English and French, at the end
of the volume.

[441] Six companies of Dillon came from Sicily, to replace the 2/67th
at Cartagena.

[442] Wellington to Dumouriez, _Supplementary Dispatches_, vii. 482-3,
and to Cooke, ibid. pp. 477-8.

[443] Wellington to Liverpool, November 23, 1812. _Dispatches_, ix. p.
572.

[444] Wellington to Graham, January 31. _Dispatches_, x. p. 67.

[445] Wellington to Bathurst. Ibid., p. 104.

[446] _Dispatches_, x. p. 464.

[447] Wellington to Henry Wellesley. _Dispatches_, x. p. 239.

[448] Wellington to Stapleton Cotton, ibid., p. 268, and to Bathurst,
ibid. 295, speaking of the extraordinary dry spring. Dickson notes in
his _Diary_ that for two months before April 4 there had been no rain.

[449] See _Dispatches_, x. pp. 372-3.

[450] Wellington to Beresford, April 24. _Dispatches_, x. p. 322.

[451] See above, pp. 224-5.

[452] Wellington to Bathurst, _Dispatches_, x. 372.

[453] Wellington to Bathurst, May 6. _Dispatches_, x. p. 361.

[454] Algarve, and Hussars of Estremadura.

[455] Pontevedra and Principe.

[456] Castaños himself during the campaign acted more as
Captain-General than as Army-Commander--stationing himself at Salamanca
and reorganizing the districts just recovered from the French.

[457] Apparently not without reason, if we can trust King Joseph’s
correspondence, which contains notes of a treasonable intrigue in
May, between certain officers of the 3rd Army and General Viruez, an
_Afrancesado_ at Madrid. See _Correspondance du Roi_, ix. pp. 130 and
466.

[458] Total force a nominal 15,000, but dépôts, hospitals, petty
garrisons, &c., absorbed a full third--the cavalry was 441 sabres only.

[459] See Codrington to Wellesley, January 18, in _Supplementary
Dispatches_, vii. p. 569.

[460] Sarsfield with one of the two Catalan field divisions was
normally operating as a sort of guerrillero on the Aragonese side.
Manso generally hung about the Ampurdam with a brigade.

[461] The H.A. troops were ‘A’ Ross, ‘D’ Bean, ‘E’ Gardiner, ‘F’
Webber-Smith, and ‘I’ Ramsay. The foot companies were those of
Dubourdieu (1st Division), Maxwell (2nd Division), Douglas (3rd
Division), Sympher K.G.L. (4th Division), Lawson (5th Division),
Brandreth (6th Division), Cairnes (7th Division). Tulloh’s Portuguese
company was attached to the 2nd Division, Da Cunha’s to Silveira’s
division. The reserve was composed of Webber-Smith’s H.A. troop,
Arriaga’s Portuguese heavy 18-pounders, and Parker’s foot company. See
Colonel Leslie’s edition of the _Dickson Papers_, ii. p. 719.

[462] Long was now in charge of Hill’s cavalry _vice_ Erskine, a
general whose acts have so often required criticism. This unfortunate
officer had committed suicide at Brozas during the winter, by leaping
out of a lofty window while _non compos mentis_. The moment he was
removed Wellington abolished the ‘2nd Cavalry Division’, and threw its
two brigades into the general stock under Stapleton Cotton for the
campaign of 1813.

[463] Wellington to Hill, _Supplementary Dispatches_, xiv. pp. 206 and
216.

[464] 12th Dragoons, of Digeon’s division.

[465] This is Wellington’s own observation, _Dispatches_ x. 397, to
Graham from Matilla.

[466] Wellington to Graham, _Dispatches_, x. 401.

[467] That the charges were not pushed home is shown by the
casualties--10 wounded in the Royals, 1 killed no wounded in the 1st
Hussars K.G.L.

[468] Creditable as was the conduct of Villatte’s infantry, it is
hyperbole to say with Napier (v. p. 98) that ‘the dauntless survivors
won their way in the face of 30,000 enemies!’ For only 1,600 British
horsemen were up, and the nearest allied infantry was 6 or 8 miles away.

[469] Jourdan (_Mémoires_, p. 464) holds that Villatte was to blame,
and ‘engagea le combat mal à propos,’ but considers that he was
‘faiblement suivi’ by Fane and Alten. He acknowledges the loss of
some of Villatte’s guns, probably in error, for Wellington speaks
of captured caissons only in his report of the affair. Martinien’s
list of casualties shows hardly any officer-casualties on this day in
Villatte’s division.

[470] See the elaborate dispatch of June 28 (to Hill, _Dispatches_, x.
pp. 402-4).

[471] See Jourdan’s _Mémoires_, p. 466.

[472] For all this see Wellington to Hill, _Dispatches_, x. pp. 402-4.

[473] There are some slips either in the original or the copy of the
Marching Orders printed in _Supplementary Dispatches_, xiv. pp. 215-16.
For Carazedo, given on the itinerary of the 1st Division, is many miles
from it, though it _is_ on the proper line of the 5th Division, which
was going to Outeiro and not to Braganza. Limão on the itinerary of the
3rd Division should be Vinhas, if I am not mistaken.

[474] Another odd error in Marching Orders given in _Wellington
Dispatches_, x. p. 368, had turned the Portuguese heavy guns into
infantry ‘18th Portuguese Brigade’ which should read ‘Portuguese
18-pounder brigade.’ There was no higher numbered Portuguese infantry
brigade than the 10th. This misprint has misled many historians.

[475] See Tomkinson, p. 232, for the road by Chaves and Monforte.

[476] Improvised by dismantling artillery carriages. Wellington to
Bathurst, _Dispatches_, x. 388.

[477] Wellington to Graham, _Dispatches_, x. p. 392.

[478] Minus Grant’s hussars, who only arrived on the 27th.

[479] Jourdan’s _Mémoires_, p. 464. Note that Napier (v. 102) has got
this expedition a week too late--May 29-30. His statement that the
French cavalry got in touch with the northern wing of Graham’s army
and was closely followed by British scouting parties, is contradicted
by the absolute silence about any touch with the French in the diary
of Tomkinson, whose regiment was at Tabara and must have been the one
which Boyer would have met.

[480] Digeon’s own report, which chanced to be entirely inaccurate, was
that on the 29th his reconnaissance reported that there were signs of
intentions to throw trestle bridges across the Esla opposite the ford
of Morellas, the lowest ford on the Esla toward the Douro, and at Santa
Enferina opposite San Cebrian, where Spanish troops were visible. Also
that at Almendra there was a post of British hussars. Only the third
item was correct. (_Archives Nationaux_--copy lent me by Mr. Fortescue.)

[481] Tomkinson says that his regiment, the 16th Light Dragoons,
was 20 hours on horseback this day, continually hurried off and
countermarching (p. 235).

[482] Julian Sanchez’s lancers, from Hill’s wing, moving from
Penauseude, got in the same night to Zamora.

[483] Digeon has an elaborate and unconvincing account of this affair
in the long dispatch quoted above. He says that he had two regiments
(16th and 21st Dragoons) drawn up in front of a bridge and ravine,
awaiting the return of a reconnaissance sent to Toro: that the
detachment arrived hotly pursued by British hussars, whereupon he
resolved to retire, and told the brigade to file across the ravine. But
the 16th Dragoons charged without orders, in order to save the flying
party, and got engaged against fourfold numbers, while the 21st was
retiring. They did wonders: killed or wounded 100 hussars, captured an
officer and 13 men, and retired fighting on the battery and infantry at
Pedroso, losing only 100 men.

[484] Two officers of the 16th were taken: the lists in Martinien show
only one more officer wounded--from which we should gather that the
resistance must have been poor. For a regiment fighting strongly should
have had more officer-casualties than three to 208 other ranks. The
16th Dragoons must have been pretty well destroyed--with 1 officer and
108 men unwounded prisoners, 1 officer and 100 men wounded prisoners,
and 1 officer and an unknown number of other ranks wounded but not
captured. This was the same regiment which had lost the 1 officer and
32 men taken by their own carelessness at Val de Perdices on the 31st.
It had been less than 400 strong by its last preserved morning-state.

[485] Jourdan, _Mémoires_, p. 463.

[486] See above, p. 327.

[487] 45th Ligne and 12th Léger.

[488] 2nd Hussars, 5th and 10th _Chasseurs à Cheval_. For an
interesting narrative of Maransin’s and P. Soult’s manœuvres about
Toledo, see the book of Wellington’s intelligence officer, Leith Hay,
who was then a prisoner with them, having been captured while scouting
(vol. ii. pp. 142-55).

[489] Clausel was sent a dispatch on May 27 _not_ ordering him to come
south at once, but requesting him to send back Barbot, Taupin, and
Foy if his operations were now completed in Navarre! _Mémoires du Roi
Joseph_, ix. 280.

[490] Viz. four and a half divisions of the Army of the South, two of
the Army of the Centre, one of the Army of Portugal, the King’s French
Guards, and his trifling Spanish auxiliary force.

[491] Jourdan, _Mémoires_, p. 466.

[492] Jourdan, _Mémoires_, p. 467.

[493] Wellington to Graham, _Dispatches_, x. p. 411.

[494] Wellington to Giron, _Dispatches_, x. 413 and 414, and to
O’Donoju, x. pp. 414-15.

[495] Viz. Wellington to Colonel Bourke from Melgar, June 10,
_Dispatches_, x. p. 429.

[496] Wellington to Bourke from Melgar, June 10, _Dispatches_, x. 429.

[497] As, for example, in the letter to Bathurst about ships.
_Dispatches_, x. 416.

[498] These sort of courtesies were most misplaced. The subject of
discussion was the exchange of the British officer captured at Morales
(see above, p. 332) for a French officer whom Gazan was anxious to
get back. See _Dispatches_, x. 421, Wellington to Gazan; Jourdan’s
_Mémoires_, p. 467; and the narrative of the flag-bearer in Maxwell’s
_Peninsular Sketches_, ii. pp. 97-8.

[499] Tomkinson’s _Diary_ (16th Light Dragoons), pp. 239-40.

[500] Maxwell’s _Peninsular Sketches_, ii. 37.

[501] _Dispatches_, x. 437.

[502] 1st and 5th with Bradford’s Portuguese.

[503] Food having run low, owing to the mule-transport falling behind.

[504] 3rd, 4th, 6th, 7th Divisions and Pack’s Portuguese.

[505] Presumably Maucune’s brigade, which had been there some time, as
well as the convoy escorts.

[506] ‘Grant begged Lord Wellington to allow him to attack the
retiring infantry, but in spite of his pressing solicitations was not
permitted.’ Maxwell’s _Peninsular Sketches_, ii. 99.

[507] Jourdan, _Mémoires_, p. 469.

[508] Cf. Miot de Melito in Ducasse, ix. p. 468.

[509] Cf. Jourdan’s _Mémoires_, p. 470; Wellington _Dispatches_, x.
pp. 436-7; Digeon’s Report, and the Appendix in Arteche, xiii. p. 486.
Toreno (iii. p. 230) says that the citizens held that the French had
intended the mine to work when they were gone, and to destroy the city
and the incoming allied troops, but leans to the view that ignorance of
the power of explosives explains all.

[510] _Dispatches_, x. p. 436.

[511] Sometimes called the bridge of Policutes, from the name of the
village on the opposite bank.

[512] Tomkinson’s _Diary_, p. 341.

[513] Maxwell’s _Peninsular Sketches_, ii. p. 38.

[514] e.g. Wachholz of Brunswick-Oels, attached to the 4th Division, p.
314.

[515] See, for example, vol. ii. p. 586 and vol. iv. p. 159.

[516] These were the words of Colonel Arnaud, senior aide-de-camp to
Gazan, conversing (most incautiously) with his prisoner Leith Hay,
whose diary is most interesting for these days. See Leith Hay, ii. p.
176.

[517] Foy to Jourdan, Bergara, June 19.

[518] Some of Hill’s troops used the bridge of Rampalares also, a few
miles west of Puente Arenas.

[519] But did not follow the main road to Osma, going off by a by-path
north of the sierras to Orduña.

[520] _Dispatches_, x. p. 450.

[521] Pakenham’s _Private Correspondence_ (ed. Lord Longford, 1914)
gives no help. He only writes on June 24th, ‘Lord W. left me to protect
his rear: I executed my duty, but have lost my laurel.... I have
satisfied myself, and I hope my master’ (p. 211).

[522] In _Supplementary Dispatches_, vii. the two papers on pp. 641 and
644 should be read together, the first giving the moves for Graham and
the Light and 4th Divisions, the second for Hill and the 3rd and 7th
Divisions.

[523] Jourdan, _Mémoires_, p. 472.

[524] Not Barbacena as in Napier: the latter place is in Portugal.

[525] They lost 1 officer and 1 man wounded only.

[526] Tomkinson’s _Diary_, p. 242.

[527] At least Martinien’s lists show one officer killed and five
wounded--all but one in Sarrut’s regiments--which at the usual rate
would mean 120 casualties.

[528] Most of these details are from the excellent account by an
officer of the 43rd in Maxwell’s _Peninsular Sketches_, ii. pp. 39-40.
This narrative was evidently seen by Napier, who reproduces many of its
actual words, as I have done myself. It must have been lent him long
before it was printed in 1845.

[529] Martinien’s lists show only 1 officer killed and 5 wounded this
day in Maucune’s division--this means about 120-50 casualties, but of
course does not include the unwounded prisoners from the baggage-guard.
Jourdan says that the division had ‘une perte assez considérable.’

[530] See _Vie militaire du Général Foy_, pp. 206-7.

[531] _Vie militaire du Général Foy_, p. 206. The editor, Girod de
l’Ain, seems to prove that Foy got no other dispatch, though Jourdan
declares that several had been sent to him.

[532] It would appear, however, that though the 1st and 5th Divisions
and Anson’s cavalry never went near Orduña, yet Bradford and Pack’s
Portuguese (without artillery) had got so near it on the preceding day
that Wellington let them go through it, bringing them back to the main
body via Unza by a mountain path. See _Supplementary Dispatches_, vii.
p. 647.

[533] Probably by Angulo, and the valley of the Gordajuela.

[534] He says so in his letter to the Conde d’Abispal, _Dispatches_, x.
pp. 445-6. ‘Je les attaquerai demain, _s’ils ne font pas la retraite
dans la nuit_.’

[535] Napier, v. p. 114.

[536] There is a good account of the skirmish on the Bayas in Wachholz,
p. 314. He remarks on the abominable weather, ‘incredible for the time
of year--continuous unbearable cold and rain--the sun visible only for
short intervals. Very bad roads.’

[537] For all this see Tomkinson’s _Diary_, p. 243. His statement that
the column went off on the Orduña road by _mistake_ and was at once set
right, seems to me conclusive against Napier’s views.

[538] An English eye-witness calls it ‘nowhere fordable’: a French
eye-witness ‘fordable everywhere’; both are wrong. Cf. Fortescue, ix.
p. 152.

[539] Jourdan’s _Mémoires_, p. 474.

[540] See Toreno, iii. pp. 233-6.

[541] There is an account of this skirmish in Digeon’s report, and in
Hay’s _Reminiscences under Wellington_, pp. 107-8.

[542] Jourdan, p. 473.

[543] The fortified position north of the defile of Salinas, where the
road from Bilbao to France joins the great _chaussée_.

[544] i. e. the position above the northern exit from the plain of
Vittoria.

[545] Not counting Pakenham and Giron, but including Longa and Morillo.

[546] Digeon in his report insists that he thought there was something
more behind Longa. But this is _ex post facto_ allegation.

[547] Napier, v. p. 134.

[548] Cf. events in the Nimy-Obourg Salient at Mons on August 22, 1914.

[549] The classical instance of the proper defence of a river front
is (I suppose) Lee’s defence of the Rappahannock at the battle of
Fredericksburg. For the ruinous fate of an army which gets across at
one or two points of a long front, and is counter-attacked, cf. the
battle of the Katzbach, fought two months after Vittoria.

[550] Especially the bridges of Tres Puentes and Nanclares by which a
reconnaissance was made on June 20, and that of Mendoza up-stream. See
Jourdan, p. 473.

[551] Blakiston’s _Twelve Years of Military Adventure_, ii. p. 207.

[552] And this not belonging to the Army of the South, but to
d’Erlon--Avy’s 27th Chasseurs.

[553] This story is given by Gazan in his report, as a proof that
Jourdan had ample warning that there was danger from the north as well
as from the east.

[554] These troops were ‘nobody’s children’ and get ignored in Gazan’s
and Reille’s reports. But we hear of the 3rd Line defending Gamarra
Menor in one French report, a fact corroborated by its showing two
officer-casualties in Martinien’s lists--the guns are mentioned in
Tirlet’s artillery report. Cavalry of the Army of the North is vaguely
mentioned--its presence seems established by an officer-casualty of the
15th Chasseurs in Martinien. I suspect the presence of part of the 10th
Léger, which has an officer-casualty, Vittoria _22nd_ June, presumably
a misprint for 21st.

[555] _Dispatches_, x. p. 449, says that Reille had two _divisions_ in
reserve (they were only two _brigades_) in addition to his front line
holding the bridges: and cf. x. p. 450, which says directly that four
divisions of Reille’s army were present.

[556] Here comes in a curious incident, illustrating the extraordinary
carelessness of the French Staff. Gazan was very anxious to get
restored to him an artillery officer, a Captain Cheville, then a
prisoner. As an exchange for him he sent into the British lines on the
20th, Captain Leith Hay, a captured British intelligence officer, who
had been with the Army of the South for a month, and had witnessed the
whole retreat, during which he had been freely in intercourse with
General Maransin and many staff officers. On his release he was able to
tell Wellington that the French were definitely halted, and expected
to fight. Why exchange such a prisoner on such a day? See Leith Hay,
ii. p. 190. Cf. _Wellington Dispatches_, x. p. 443, which corroborates
Hay’s story.

[557] Jourdan, _Mémoires_, p. 475.

[558] Digeon had obstructed the bridges of Arriaga and Gamarra. The
bridge of Villodas, below Gazan’s extreme right, had been partly
barricaded. Not so Nanclares, Mendoza, and the bridge immediately below
Tres Puentes.

[559] Diary of the 43rd officer, in Maxwell, ii. p. 40.

[560] There is a good account of the heroic death of Cadogan, a
much-loved colonel of the 71st, in the diary of his quarter-master,
William Gavin, of the same regiment. When aware that he was mortally
hit, Cadogan refused to be moved from the field, and had himself
propped up against two knapsacks, on a point from which his dying eyes
could survey the whole field, and watched the fight to the bitter end.

[561] From Gazan’s report in the French Archives, written at St.
Jean-Pied-du-Port in July--very much _ex post facto_. It was lent me by
Mr. Fortescue, along with several other Vittorian documents.

[562] Diary of Cooke of the 43rd in Maxwell’s _Peninsular Sketches_,
ii. 42.

[563] Graham’s Report, _Wellington Supplementary Dispatches_, viii. 7-8.

[564] Cooke, the 43rd officer in Maxwell’s _Peninsular Sketches_,
ii. 44. The guns were undoubtedly the Horse Artillery battery on the
high-road in front of Gazan’s centre.

[565] Of course, Cooke is understating the distance, which was about a
quarter of a mile.

[566] This interesting narrative of Captain Cooke of the 43rd must have
been in Napier’s hands before it was printed by Maxwell, as several
phrases from it are repeated in Napier, vol. v, p. 121. Sir William
himself was in England that day.

[567] He was, along with Stewart and Oswald, one of the three
divisional generals who committed the gross breach of orders during the
Burgos retreat mentioned above, p. 152.

[568] Cf. Burgoyne, _Life and Letters_, i. 263 (June 23, 1813), with
Picton’s letters in _Wellington Supplementary Dispatches_, xiv. 225,
about ‘the 3rd Division being kept in the background, for Sir T. P. is
by no means a favourite with Lord W.’ Cairnes (in Dickson, ed. Leslie)
puts the change down as ‘most mortifying to Picton’.

[569] See Dalhousie to Wellington, in _Supplementary Dispatches_, viii.
p. 6, which leaves much unsaid.

[570] Narrative of one of Picton’s staff in Robinson’s _Life of
Picton_, ii. 195-6.

[571] The third battery originally at Ariñez was Villatte’s divisional
battery, which had gone off with him to the Puebla heights. Neither P.
Soult nor Treillard had guns with them.

[572] Such turning _might_ have been done either by the two belated
brigades of the 7th Division or by troops detached by Graham, who had
several brigades to spare, which he never used, but might have sent to
pass the Zadorra at the bridge of Yurre or the fords west of it, both
well behind the new French line.

[573] Who was this officer? _Not_ Brevet Lieut.-Colonel Cother of the
71st nor Brevet Lieut.-Colonel Harrison of the 50th. Hope of the 92nd,
in his rather detailed narrative of this fight, calls him ‘Colonel
R----.’ I cannot identify him. Conceivably, it may have been Colonel
Rooke, the senior officer of Hill’s staff who _may_ have been sent
up the heights, and _may_ have taken over command on Cadogan’s being
mortally wounded.

[574] So says the anonymous but invaluable ‘T. S.’ of the 71st.
Leith Hay, a prisoner with the French in this campaign, remarks that
they were all in their summer wear of long linen overcoats, with the
cross-belts put on above.

[575] They were released at Pampeluna on the surrender of that fortress
three months later, in a state of semi-starvation, having been carried
on with Villatte’s division during the French retreat. They described
to Gavin of the 71st, who happened to be present at the surrender,
their unhappy fortunes. See his diary, p. 25.

[576] Gazan’s most unconvincing account of all this engagement is that
‘General Villatte attacked the enemy with his usual vigour: nothing
could resist the shock of his division. The position, whose recapture
ought to have assured us the victory, was retaken, as well as the
height in front of Subijana. The enemy was routed at every point. Such
was the position of the Army of the South, when news came to the King
that our troops by the Zadorra were attacked, and could not maintain
themselves. I was told to break off my attack and retire to a position
further back.’

[577] The 71st lost, beside their well-loved colonel--the only man
mentioned in Wellington’s private letter of next morning to his brother
Henry (_Dispatches_, x. p. 454)--44 killed, 272 wounded, and nearly 40
prisoners: half the battalion. The 50th lost only 7 officers and 97
men; the 92nd no more than 20 men. If Villatte gave correct figures,
his total loss was only 2 officers and 289 men--including 22 prisoners.
Of these the 63rd, obviously the leading regiment, was responsible
for 135 casualties, the 95th for 94. The other two regiments had
practically no losses. These figures are very low, but seem to be
corroborated by Martinien.

[578] Its heavy loss of 33 officers and 515 men out of about 2,200
present was nearly all, I believe, suffered at this point. The 2/87th
with 244 casualties out of about 600 present lost 40 per cent. of its
strength. Chassé’s French brigade, the immediate opponents, had 800
casualties, nearly all at this moment.

[579] Why did not Dalhousie support Colville more promptly? He had a
bridge to cross, and some way to go, but was evidently late.

[580] These details come mainly out of the _Mémoire sur la Retraite des
Armées françaises_ in the French Archives, lent me by Mr. Fortescue.
Internal evidence shows it written by some member of D’Erlon’s staff.
Tirlet’s report is also useful.

[581] Captured by skirmishers of the 1/95th, as it was retreating up
the high road and was nearing Ariñez. The French infantry recovered
it for a moment by a counter-stroke, but as the Riflemen had cut the
traces and shot or removed the horses, they could not get the gun away.
Tirlet says the battery lost only _one_ gun, which is corroborated by
Costello of the 95th, present on the spot. Kincaid and other Riflemen
say three.

[582] There is a curious problem connected with a correspondence
(_Dispatches_, x. pp. 329-31) between Picton and Wellington on July
16--three weeks after the battle. Wellington apparently thought that
Picton blamed the 88th for losing Ariñez in the first assault, while
it was really only two companies of the 1/95th which had entered that
village and been driven out. He says that he had seen the 88th coming
into action in a very ragged line, and had himself halted them and
dressed their front, before he let them go on: after this he did not
notice what became of them, but saw them again after the fighting
formed on the other side of the village.

What Wellington did not witness is chronicled by Costello of the
1/95th: after describing the repulse of the Riflemen, he notes their
pleasure at seeing ‘our favourite third division’ coming down the road.
Ariñez was promptly retaken and the advance recommenced. ‘I noticed
a regiment, which by its yellow facings was the Connaught Rangers,
marching in close column of companies to attack a French regiment drawn
up in line on the verge of the hill, with a small village [Gomecha?]
in its rear. The 88th, although under a heavy cannonade from the
enemy’s artillery, continued advancing gallantly, while we skirmishers
took ground to the left, close to the road, in order to allow them to
oppose this line in front. Though we were hotly engaged I watched their
movements. The 88th next deployed into line, advancing all the time
towards their opponents, who seemed to wait very coolly for them. When
they had approached within 300 yards the French poured in a volley,
or I should rather say a running fire from right to left. As soon as
the British regiment recovered the first shock, and closed their files
on the gap that had been made, they commenced advancing at double
time till within fifty yards nearer to the enemy, when they halted
and in turn gave a running fire from the whole line, and then without
a moment’s pause, cheered and charged up the hill against them. The
French meanwhile were attempting to reload. But they were hard pressed
by the British, who gave them no time for a second volley. They went
immediately to the right about, making the best of their way to the
village behind.’

From this it is clear that the 88th fought on open ground, to the
right of Ariñez and the high road. It was the centre regiment of the
brigade: the 45th, therefore, must have been more to the right and well
south of the road; the 74th on the high road were the actual takers of
Ariñez. We have unluckily no description of Power’s Portuguese at the
moment--but they lost heavily--the casualties being 25 officers and 386
men. They _must_ have been engaged with Leval’s 2nd Brigade, which had
been stationed about and to the north of Gomecha, while the 1st Brigade
held the village of Ariñez and the hill behind.

[583] The amusing story told of this storm by Harry Smith in his
autobiography (i. pp. 97-8) is too good to be omitted. ‘My brigade
was sent to support the 7th Division, which was hotly engaged. I was
sent forward to report to Lord Dalhousie, who commanded. I found his
lordship and his Q.M.G. Drake in deep conversation. I reported pretty
quick, and asked for orders (the head of the brigade was just getting
under fire). I repeated the question, “What orders, my lord?” Drake
became somewhat animated, and I heard his lordship say, “Better take
the village.” I roared out, “Certainly, my lord,” and off I galloped,
both calling to me to come back, but “none are so deaf as those who
won’t hear.” I told General Vandeleur we were immediately to take the
village. The 52nd deployed into line, our Riflemen were sent out in
every direction, keeping up a fire nothing could resist.... The 52nd
in line and the swarm of Riflemen rushed at the village, and though
the ground was intersected by gardens and ditches nothing ever checked
us, until we reached the rear of it. There was never a more impetuous
onset--nothing could resist such a burst of determination.’ Smith’s
addition that the brigade took twelve guns in this charge seems (as Mr.
Fortescue remarks) to be of more doubtful value.

Naturally there is nothing of this in Dalhousie’s dispatch--a most
disappointing paper. It is mostly in a self-exculpatory tone, to
justify his lateness and the absence of his two rear brigades. He
_says_ that they came up at the same time as Vandeleur, which is
certainly untrue, as neither of them had a single casualty all day.
And they could not have failed to catch a shell or two if they had
been anywhere near the fighting-line during the subsequent capture
of Crispijana and Zuazo. Mr. Fortescue’s note that Captain Cairnes’s
letter in the _Dickson Papers_, p. 916, proves that Barnes’s brigade
had arrived by this time, is a misdeduction from Cairnes’s carelessness
in talking of Grant’s brigade as ‘our first brigade,’ meaning thereby
our leading brigade, not the brigade officially numbered 1. When
Cairnes says that the ‘first brigade’ and the guns were ‘in their
place,’ while the rest arrived very late in the action, we need only
contrast the casualty lists--1st Brigade _nil_, 2nd Brigade 330
casualties, 3rd Brigade _nil_, to see what he means.

[584] It will be noticed that I put La Hermandad as the village where
the heavy fighting took place, and which Vandeleur’s brigade stormed.
All historians up to now have followed Napier in making Margarita the
important place. A glance at the map will show that the latter village
is too far forward to have been held for any time, after Leval had
evacuated his original position on the great knoll facing Tres Puentes
and Villodas.

I have to point out that neither Wellington nor Lord Dalhousie
in the two contemporary dispatches (_Dispatches_, x. p. 451, and
_Supplementary Dispatches_, viii. pp. 4-6) mention either place by
name--only speaking of ‘a village.’ D’Erlon’s staff-officer in the
report of the Army of the Centre says that Margarita was held for some
time but was rendered untenable by Leval’s retreat--so that Darmagnac
had to go back to the heights behind. Gazan’s report says that the
British were masters of Margarita before he took up his position on
the heights above Ariñez, and that the _heights behind Margarita_
were the fighting position of D’Erlon. Of the diarists or chroniclers
who issued their books _before the fifth volume of Napier_ came out,
and who were present on this part of the field, Green (68th), Wheeler
(51st), Captain Wood (82nd), mention no village names, nor do Lord
Gough’s and Captain Cairnes’s contemporary letters, nor Geo. Simmons’
contemporary diary. Nor does Sir Harry Smith’s amusing account of his
dealings with Lord Dalhousie before ‘the village’ which Vandeleur took
(_Autobiography_, i. pp. 97-8) quoted in the preceding note.

After Napier’s book stated that the Light Division battalions took
Margarita, and Gough with the 2/87th La Hermandad (a reversal of the
real time and facts as I think), most later writers accepted these
statements as gospel. But the report of Kruse, commanding the Nassau
regiment, absolutely proves that Napier is wrong. Moreover, the rough
map, annexed to D’Erlon’s original report of the battle in the French
Archives, gives Hermandad as the position of Darmagnac, with his march
thither _from_ Gomecha and _to_ Zuazo indicated by arrows. Kruse’s
report may be found at length in the Nassau volume of Saussez’s _Les
Allemands sous les Aigles_, pp. 340-1.

[585] This British claim is corroborated by the narrative of the French
surgeon Fée, present at Abechuco that day.

[586] Though he had lost several when La Martinière was driven out of
Gamarra Mayor (see above, p. 425) and Abechuco.

[587] The other regiments of Hay’s brigade were evidently kept in
reserve, for the casualties of the 1/38th were eight only, and those
of the 1/9th 25. The 8th Caçadores of Spry’s brigade lost 40 men, the
Portuguese Line battalions only 41 between the four of them.

[588] Sergeant James Hale of the 1/9th, who has left us the only good
detailed account of the fighting at Gamarra with which I am acquainted
(pp. 105-6).

[589] Numbers impossible to determine, as they are never borne in the
muster rolls of the Army of the Centre. But as they were 2,019 strong
on July 16, when Soult reorganized the whole Army of Spain, they were
probably 2,500 strong before the battle.

[590] So Tirlet, making allowances for the lost pieces.

[591] Viz. the divisional batteries of the 2nd Division (one British,
one Portuguese), 3rd, 4th, 7th, Light, and Silveira’s Divisions, two H.
A. batteries attached to the cavalry, two British and one Portuguese
batteries of the reserve, and three Spanish guns belonging to Morillo.

[592] These notes are partly from Tirlet’s very interesting artillery
report, partly from the narrative of the staff-officer of the Army of
the Centre, already often quoted above.

[593] See tables of losses in Appendices, nos. xi and xii.

[594] _Memoirs_, p. 479.

[595] _Diary_ of Wachholz, attached with a Brunswick light company to
the 4th Division, pp. 315-16.

[596] Thirty guns according to Garbé’s report--40 according to that of
D’Erlon’s staff-officer, quoted above.

[597] Blaze, p. 244.

[598] What regiment was this? Obviously one of Colville’s or
Grant’s--as obviously not the 51st, 68th, 82nd, 87th, 94th, from all
of which we have narratives of the battle, which do not mention their
being charged by cavalry or forming square. There remain the _Chasseurs
Britanniques_, 1/5th, 2/83rd--it may have been any of these.

[599] Tomkinson of the 16th, fighting not far off, says that these
squadrons ‘got into a scrape’ by charging about 2,000 French cavalry
(p. 249). They lost 2 officers and 57 men. This was obviously the
affair of which Digeon speaks. His 12th Dragoons, which charged the
square, lost 22 casualties.

[600] One each of the 12th and 16th.

[601] The best account of all this is in the invaluable Tomkinson’s
_Diary_ (pp. 250-1). There is also an interesting narrative by Dallas,
who took part in the charge, though he had no business there (pp.
92-3). The French cavalry were the 15th Dragoons and 3rd Hussars.
They suffered heavily--the former regiment losing 4 officers and 53
men, the latter 4 officers and 30 men. The British dragoons got off
lightly, all things considered, with 1 officer and 11 men hit in the
12th, and 1 officer and 20 men in the 10th. Tomkinson much praises the
French infantry. ‘I never saw men more steady and exact to the word of
command. I rode within a yard of them, they had their arms at the port,
and not a man attempted to fire till we began to retire.’

[602] Cf. the reports of the Army of Portugal, Tomkinson, Hale of the
1/9th, and Graham’s very sketchy dispatch, which says that the infantry
was much delayed at the bridges, but that ‘the greatest eagerness was
manifested by all the corps. The Caçador battalions of both Portuguese
brigades followed with the cavalry.... The enemy’s flight, however,
was so rapid that no material impression could be made on them, though
more than once charged by squadrons of General Anson’s brigade.’
(_Supplementary Dispatches_, viii. p. 9.)

[603] Gazan says in his report that he only abandoned the guns because
he found the roads south of Vittoria blocked by fugitive vehicles from
Vittoria.

[604] L’Estrange of the 31st says that some of the French, moving
almost in the middle of advancing British brigades, were mistaken for
Spaniards, and allowed to get off unharmed. Surtees of the 2/95th tells
a similar story.

[605] The lancers are shown in Martinien’s lists to have lost six
officers, the hussars four. The casualties of the 18th Hussars (3
officers and 37 men) and of the 10th (16 men) were certainly got in
this affair, which was evidently hot while it lasted. The best account
of Joseph’s last half-hour on the battlefield is in the _Mémoires_ of
Miot de Melito (iii. pp. 280-1), who was at the King’s side and shared
his wild ride.

[606] Of the artillery Tirlet’s report shows that 104 were field guns
actually used in the battle. The remaining 47 were partly the reserve
guns of the Army of the North, left stacked at Vittoria when Clausel
took his divisions to hunt for Mina, and partly guns of position from
the garrisons of Burgos, Vittoria, Miranda, &c.

[607] There is a report of the regiment in the _Archives Nationales_
setting forth that it did not lose its eagle, but the flag of the
battalion reduced by Imperial orders in the spring, which was in the
regimental fourgon.

[608] It inspired him with the idea of designing a British marshal’s
baton on which lions were substituted for eagles. Wellington naturally
got the first ever made.

[609] All this from Leith Hay (always an interesting narrator), vol.
ii. pp. 203 and 208.

[610] Oddly enough, two contemporary diaries mention Mr. D.’s luck.
He got by no means the biggest haul. Sergeant Costello of the 1/95th
says that he got over £1,000. A private of the 23rd carried off 1,000
dollars in silver--a vast load! Green of the 68th records that two of
his comrades got respectively 180 doubloons, and nearly 1,000 dollars
(p. 165).

[611] Tomkinson, p. 254.

[612] Miot de Melito, iii. p. 279.

[613] There are amusing accounts of the conversation of this lively
lady in the narratives of Leith Hay and Dr. McGrigor, who took care of
her.

[614] But Lecor had a straggler or two out of one of his
line-battalions--no doubt men who had gone off marauding, like most of
the missing in the British list.

[615] _Supplementary Dispatches_, viii. p. 8.

[616] See e. g. Swabey’s note on his dangerous ride with Graham along
the Esla, at the end of May, ‘whether the General is blind or mad I
have not decided--he must have been one or the other to ride in cold
blood over those rocks and precipices.’ Swabey’s _Diary_, p. 595.

[617] Cairnes’s _Diary_, p. 926.

[618] Fée, _Souvenirs de la guerre d’Espagne_, pp. 249-50.

[619] He is thinking of the nights after the storms of Rodrigo and
Badajoz.

[620] _Dispatches_, xii. p. 473. The regiment named is a newly arrived
cavalry unit, which attracted the Commander-in-Chief’s special notice
by its prominence in plundering.

[621] Wellington to Bathurst, _Dispatches_, xii. p. 496.

[622] Personal diaries seem to show that this was the case with
Cadogan’s brigade on the right, and the whole 5th Division on the left.

[623] This interesting fact is recorded in a conversation of Wellington
with Croker, which contains some curious notes on the battle (Croker,
ii. p. 232).

[624] Thinking that he had only his own two divisions of the Army of
the North, and Taupin’s of the Army of Portugal, while really Barbot’s
division was also with him.

[625] The former going by El Burgo and Alegria, the latter by Arzubiaga
and Audicana.

[626] Murray to Wellington, _Supplementary Dispatches_, viii. pp. 3-4.

[627] See his dispatch to Wellington dated from Tolosa on June 26th.

[628] See vol. iv. p. 327.

[629] See Colonel Frazer’s account in his _Peninsular Letters_, p. 186.

[630] See, for this statement of the Duke’s, Fortescue’s _British
Army_, vol. ix. p. 199.

[631] See Duncan’s _History of the Royal Artillery_, vol. ii. pp.
356-60, an indictment of Wellington’s whole policy to the corps, and
especially of his famous Waterloo letter on their conduct in 1815.

[632] Reille reported that the straggling was so portentous that only
4,200 infantry were with the eagles on July 24th. See Vidal de la
Blache, i. p. 79.

[633] Which had relieved Cassagne’s division, the rearguard on the 23rd.

[634] The regiment of Nassau alone returned 76 casualties that day.

[635] And took over command on the night of the 22nd; see _Pakenham
Letters_, June 26, 1813.

[636] Whose riotous and undisciplined conduct so irritated Wellington
that he directed that all the officers in charge should miss their next
step in regimental promotion, by being passed over by their juniors.

[637] I have only mentioned the movement of the 6th Division and R.
Hill’s cavalry above: there is no doubt as to what they did, and on
the 30th they are both at Lerin, according to the location given by
_Supplementary Dispatches_, viii. p. 39. But there is a puzzle about
Oswald’s 5th Division on the 26th-30th, which I was long unable to
solve. Wellington in his dispatch to Bathurst of July 3 (_Dispatches_,
x. p. 501) says that he moved not only Clinton from Vittoria but
Oswald from Salvatierra towards Logroño, on the march to intercept
Clausel. He ought to have known if any one did! But I was not able to
find any trace of the 5th Division having actually gone to Logroño:
to march back from Salvatierra to Vittoria, and thence to follow
Clinton to Logroño and Lerin would have been a very long business. Now
regimental diaries of the 3/1st and 1/9th prove that the division was
at Salvatierra on the 25th, and marched back to Vittoria on the 26th.
But the best of them (Hale of the 1/9th) says that from Vittoria the
division was turned back towards Pampeluna, and reached a spot within
two leagues of it on the third day. At this point it was turned off
northward and marched by Tolosa to join Graham’s column and assist at
the siege of St. Sebastian. All accounts agree that it reached the
neighbourhood of that fortress on July 5th-6th. Allowing six days for
the march Vittoria-St. Sebastian, we have only the 27th, 28th, 29th,
30th June for the supposed march Salvatierra-Vittoria-Logroño, and
return. The solution at last came to hand in General Shadwell’s Life
of Colin Campbell of the 1/9th (Lord Clyde). Here it is mentioned,
apparently on some record of Campbell’s, that his brigade only got to
La Guardia, one march beyond Trevino, and was then turned back and sent
north (_Life of Campbell_, i. p. 18). This is no doubt correct.

[638] _Supplementary Dispatches_, viii. p. 33.

[639] Wellington’s letters to Hill, Copons, and Castaños in
_Dispatches_, x. pp. 470-1, all state very shortly that he hopes to cut
off Clausel if he tries to get back into France by Jaca. All that is
said is, ‘I do not think we shall be able to do much against Clausel.
He has passed Tudela on the way to Saragossa. I propose to try for him
on the road to Jaca’ (to Hill). The letters to the Spanish generals do
not speak of Clausel’s going through Saragossa, but of his marching
across Aragon to Jaca.

[640] See ‘Dispositions for the 28th June,’ _Supplementary Dispatches_,
viii. p. 33.

[641] Wellington to Castaños, Monreal, June 30, _Dispatches_, x. p.
477, and to Bathurst, x. p. 496 and ibid. 501.

[642] Elaborate dispositions for their distribution round the fortress
are given in the Order dated June 30 (_Supplementary Dispatches_, viii.
pp. 34-6).

[643] See above, p. 378. For all the narrative which follows Foy’s
well-written dispatches, printed in full in his life by Girod de l’Ain,
are a primary authority. But I think that historians have given him a
little more credit than he deserves--he is a very engaging witness. As
to his own strength, that of his enemies, and the losses on both sides,
he is no more trustworthy than Soult or Masséna. It may suffice to say
that he makes the British 4th and 5th Divisions present at Tolosa, and
gives Longa 6,000 men.

[644] Foy to Jourdan, 20 June, in Girod de l’Ain’s appendix, pp. 393-4.

[645] Batteries of Smith and Arriaga. Julius Hartmann, commanding
Artillery Reserve, accompanied them; see _Dickson Papers_, June 22.

[646] From the journal of operations of General Giron’s Army, lent me
by Colonel Arzadun.

[647] In his _Diary_ (Girod de l’Ain, p. 210) Foy says that he had only
_one_ battalion of the 6th Léger, in his formal dispatch to Clarke
(ibid. 395) he says that he had two.

[648] In reporting to Giron Longa mentions his 53 prisoners, and says
that his own losses were ‘inconsiderable.’ _Journal of the Army of
Galicia_, June 22.

[649] _Journal of the Army of Galicia_, June 23.

[650] Maucune reported 200 casualties (Foy, ed. Girod de l’Ain, p.
333), Graham 93, mostly in the 5th Caçadores. St. Pol’s Italians had
beaten off Longa without losing more than 100 men--Giron does not give
Longa’s loss, which was probably a little more.

[651] 1st Division about 4,500 bayonets, Pack and Bradford 4,500,
Anson’s cavalry 650.

[652] Giron’s two Galician divisions 11,000, Porlier 2,500, Longa 3,000.

[653] His own division and Maucune’s about 3,000 each, St. Pol’s
Italians 1,500, garrisons from Bilbao, Durango, and other western
places about 3,000, De Conchy’s brigade of Army of the North [64th (2
battalions), 22nd (1 battalion), 1st Line (2 companies), and 34th (4
companies)] 2,000, garrisons of Tolosa and other places in Guipuzcoa
about 2,500.

[654] Girod de l’Ain, p. 400.

[655] This was merely the noise of the rearguard action of Cassagne
with Wellington’s advance, near Yrurzun, on the afternoon of that day.

[656] See above, p. 274.

[657] The column was led--for reasons which are not given--not by its
own Caçador battalion, but by three companies of the 4th Caçadores and
two of the 1st Line, borrowed from the neighbouring brigade of Pack.
Graham praises the conduct of this detachment.

[658] Foy (Girod de l’Ain, p. 400) says that if his orders had been
obeyed there would have been a battalion and not a detachment holding
the access to the hill. Graham (_Wellington Supplementary Dispatches_,
viii. p. 44) declares that though many of Bradford’s men fought well,
‘the officers did not seem to understand what they were about, or how
to keep their men in the proper place,’ and a good many hung back.

[659] Very different figures from those of Foy’s dispatch, which stated
that eight minutes of terrible fire laid low 500 of the assailants!
(Girod de l’Ain, p. 402).

[660] There is one paragraph of Foy’s dispatch which I cannot make out.
He says that two British regiments tried to storm the hill of Jagoz,
and were repulsed by the voltigeur companies alone of the brigade
which held it. I cannot fit this in to any British narrative--the
only red-coated battalions in that part of the field were the line
battalions of the K.G.L., and they had certainly been engaged against
Bonté and the Italians, and afterwards tried to storm the Pampeluna
Gate. Longa’s men only were opposite the Jagoz position, as far as I
can make out.

[661] For all this see Rey’s letter in the _Pièces justificatives_ of
Belmas’s History of Sieges in Spain, iv. p. 662.

[662] Under General Deconchy, who got a new brigade when his old one
was thrown into San Sebastian.

[663] Dubourdieu’s battery belonging to the British 1st Division, and
four guns of Giron’s own small artillery equipment.

[664] Lecestre’s _Lettres inédites de Napoléon_, ii. p. 265.

[665] Severoli reached Valencia on May 2 (Vacani, vi. p. 207), so
was not drawn down in consequence of Murray’s move of May 25, as Mr.
Fortescue seems to imply in _British Army_, ix. p. 49. He had with him
two battalions each of the 1st Line and 1st Ligero, with a weak cavalry
regiment.

[666] 2nd of Burgos, detached by Wellington’s order. See Murray’s
_Court Martial_, p. 371.

[667] These changes of units had caused some re-brigading. Murray
had transferred the 4th K.G.L. and the Sicilian ‘Estero’ regiment
to Clinton’s division, but taken away from the latter and given to
Mackenzie the 2nd Italian Levy, the 1/10th and the 1/81st. But Clinton
was given charge over Whittingham’s Spaniards, and authorized to use
them as part of his division, so that his total command was now much
larger than Mackenzie’s.

[668] Pontevedra and Principe.

[669] It is interesting to compare the May 31 morning state of the Army
of Catalonia with the list of battalions which Murray reports as having
been brought down to the neighbourhood of Tarragona. All are there save
two (Fernando 7th and Ausona) left at Vich under Eroles (see Table in
Appendix), twelve battalions were with Copons.

[670] One of the 20th Line, one of the 7th Italian Line.

[671] Not only was the whole of the enceinte of the lower city
abandoned, but the outer enceinte of the upper city on its east and
north sides, from the bastion of El Rey to that of La Reyna (see map of
Tarragona, p. 524 of vol. iv).

[672] _Court Martial Proceedings_, p. 228. He adds that his only
chance (as he thought) was that conceivably he might find Tarragona so
ill-fortified that he might risk an immediate assault on unfinished
defences.

[673] Ibid., p. 292.

[674] _Court Martial Proceedings_, p. 183.

[675] Ibid., p. 165.

[676] The Quartermaster-General of the Army.

[677] _Proceedings_, p. 168.

[678] Note, Napier, v. p. 147.

[679] All this from Vacani (vi. p. 321), the only full French source:
I can find no mention of this abortive demonstration from the British
side.

[680] _Court Martial Proceedings_, p. 49.

[681] Murray’s evidence at the Court Martial, p. 50.

[682] Prevost’s very moderate loss was 1 officer and 4 men killed, 1
sergeant and 38 men wounded. This includes Spaniards.

[683] _Court Martial_, Murray’s defence, p. 228.

[684] _Murray’s Defence_, p. 232.

[685] Murray to Wellington, _Supplementary Dispatches_, vii. p. 467.

[686] Musnier’s division had 4,100 men present, by its return of June
15th. Pannetier’s column consisted of two battalions each of the
3rd Léger and 20th Line and one of the 5th Léger and a squadron of
Westphalians--by the return of the same date 2,600 in all. The hussars
were 650 sabres--adding the squadron of dragoons (200), the gunners of
three batteries, train, &c.; the whole may have made just under 8,000
of all arms. See Tables in Appendix, p. 755.

[687] Decaen to M. Mathieu, 5th June: see Vidal de la Blache, i. 353.

[688] Suchet to Decaen, Valencia, May 31. See Vidal de la Blache, i. p.
352.

[689] Report of Brigadier Llauder, commanding Copons’ left wing, to
Murray, _Proceedings_, p. 190. Llauder adds that he had discovered that
Mathieu’s column was only 5,500 strong.

[690] See especially Clinton’s evidence on pp. 180-2 of Murray’s _Court
Martial_.

[691] See Manso’s letter and Guillot’s report on pp. 275-6 of the
_Court Martial Proceedings_.

[692] For which see _Court Martial Proceedings_, pp. 282-3.

[693] His main blunder was that he took Pannetier’s brigade to be a
separate item of 3,000 men, over and above the 9,000 men coming from
Valencia of whom his emissary had written. He also doubled Suchet’s
cavalry, by supposing that the 9th bis of Hussars and the 12th Hussars
were two separate regiments. But they were the same unit, the number
having recently been changed by order from Paris.

[694] _Court Martial Proceedings_, p. 285.

[695] See evidence of Bentinck, p. 175, and Clinton, p. 180, of _Court
Martial Proceedings_.

[696] Evidence of Captain Milner, ibid., p. 397. This was not true at
the moment, early in the morning.

[697] Donkin to Murray, 3 p.m. 11th June. _Court Martial Proceedings_,
p. 360.

[698] He recalls this forgotten disaster in his defence (p. 300). A
landing force cut off by storms from its transports had to surrender
whole.

[699] _Court Martial Proceedings_, pp. 285-6.

[700] Donkin’s evidence, _Court Martial Proceedings_, p. 448.

[701] Williamson’s evidence, _Proceedings_, p. 124.

[702] Williamson’s evidence, ibid., p. 125.

[703] Mr. Fortescue has, I think, misinterpreted this order, when
he says that it told Clinton to march to the same spot as the first
(_British Army_, ix. p. 63), for Constanti is not in the direction of
the Gaya, but on the opposite flank, west of the Francoli river.

[704] A queer misprint in this dispatch makes it say ‘the enemy will
march.’

[705] Evidence of Captains Withers and Bathurst, R.N., _Court Martial
Proceedings_, pp. 86 and 95.

[706] Mackenzie in his evidence says his men began at 2 p.m. to get
into the boats.

[707] Evidence of Bentinck, ibid., p. 176. The cavalry went off at 3
p.m.

[708] The hours of this belated work are stated very differently by
various naval witnesses, some of whom say that they worked till 1
a.m., others till 4 a.m., others till 7; one thinks that embarkations
continued till well into the forenoon of the 13th--say 11 o’clock. At
any rate, the hour must have been long after daylight had come--which
was at 4.15, as is recorded by one witness.

[709] The total loss of Murray’s Army during the Tarragona operations
was:

_Killed._ _Wounded._ _Missing._ _Total._
British, Germans, Calabrese,
Italian Levy 14 60 5 }
Sicilians -- 15 -- } 102
Whittingham’s Spaniards 1 7 -- }

Bertoletti’s garrison lost 13 killed and 85 wounded = 98. The enemies
did each other little harm!

[710] Not apparently the whole division, for Mackenzie calls it ‘a
small body of infantry.’

[711] Suchet, _Mémoires_, ii. p. 315.

[712] Date stated by some as the 16th, but the earlier day seems
correct. See Mackenzie’s evidence, pp. 152-3: he was uncertain as to
the date.

[713] Hallowell says on the evening of the 14th or the 15th, he forgets
which. But the latter date must be the true one.

[714] Hallowell’s speech, p. 554 of the _Court Martial Proceedings_.

[715] Pannetier’s rearguard followed on the 17th. See letter of the
Alcalde of Perello, _Court Martial_, p. 361.

[716] Hallowell’s speech, _Court Martial Proceedings_, p. 556.

[717] By Mr. Fortescue, _History of the British Army_, ix. 67.

[718] See above, p. 515.

[719] _Supplementary Dispatches_, viii. pp. 18-19, June 23.

[720] Ibid., p. 20.

[721] _Supplementary Dispatches_, viii. p. 22.

[722] Wellington to Murray, July 1, _Dispatches_, x. p. 487.

[723] _Dispatches_, x. p. 495, to Lord Bathurst, July 2.

[724] To the same, _Dispatches_, x. p. 496.

[725] To O’Donoju, Minister of War, _Dispatches_, x. pp. 492-3; to
Castaños, x. p. 475; to Lord Bathurst, x. pp. 473-4.

[726] ‘We and the powers of Europe are interested in the success of the
War in the Peninsula. But the creatures who govern at Cadiz appear to
feel no such interest. All that they care about really is the praise
of their foolish Constitution.... As long as Spain shall be governed
by the Cortes, acting upon Republican principles, we cannot hope for
any permanent amelioration.’ _Dispatches_, x. p. 474, Wellington to
Bathurst, June 29.

[727] Wellington to Henry Wellesley, _Dispatches_, x. p. 491.

[728] _Dispatches_, x. pp. 523-4.

[729] Ibid., x. p. 521.

[730] Ibid., x. pp. 553-4. When this letter was written to Lord William
Bentinck, Wellington had received no London dispatch for twenty days,
mainly owing to bad weather in the Bay of Biscay.

[731] Ibid., x. pp. 613-14, to Lord Bathurst.

[732] Ibid., x. p. 478, to Bentinck.

[733] Ibid., x. pp. 477-9.

[734] Ibid., x. p. 531.

[735] Full details in O’Donnell’s report to Wellington of July 1, 1813.
_Dispatches_, p. 503. Toreno makes an odd mistake in calling the French
commander de Ceva: this was the name of the junior officer who drew up
the capitulation.

[736] Not to be confounded with General Cassagne, who long commanded a
division in the Army of Andalusia.

[737] Late Hamilton’s division in 1810-11-12.

[738] Lord Dalhousie was left in command--a great slight to Picton--all
the more so after what had happened at Vittoria. See _Supplementary
Dispatches_, viii. p. 249.

[739] Late Cadogan’s.

[740] Pringle arrived and took command of this brigade a fortnight
later. Meanwhile the senior battalion commander led it.

[741] Reille had only two chasseur regiments with him.

[742] See the indignant letters of French officials quoted in Vidal de
la Blache, i. pp. 69 and 165-7.

[743] For the Army of Portugal only two chasseur regiments were left:
for the Army of the North only one: for the Army of the Centre only the
weak Nassau squadrons. But 13 out of the 14 cavalry regiments of the
Army of the South remained behind.

[744] Chassé’s brigade lost 850 men of 1,700 present, and the Nassau
regiment in the German brigade had similar casualties, though the Baden
regiment got off more lightly.

[745] It should be noted that Daricau’s 6th Division was now led by
Maransin--its old commander having been badly wounded at Vittoria.
Maransin’s late brigade, still extra-divisional as at Vittoria, had
been made over to Gruardet.

[746] Jourdan answered that it _was_ a false movement, but that on June
29th he could not possibly foresee that the King would change his mind
as to the destination of the Army of the South. See Vidal de la Blache,
i. p. 103.

[747] See Vidal de la Blache, i. pp. 103-4.

[748] Under Cameron of the 92nd as senior colonel--Cadogan who fell at
Vittoria not having yet been replaced.

[749] Viz. Villatte’s and Maransin’s divisions, and Gruardet’s brigade
of his own army, and Braun’s brigade of the Army of the Centre.

[750] On May 1 the three 2nd Division brigades had shown 7,200
bayonets--they had lost 900 men in action at Vittoria. If we allow for
sick and stragglers and other casual losses, they cannot possibly have
had 6,000 men in line on July 5.

[751] All these absurd theories are to be found in Gazan’s reports to
Jourdan of July 4 and 5. See Vidal de la Blache, i. pp. 106-7.

[752] The troops of the Army of the North which Foy had collected from
the Biscay garrisons, the brigades of Deconchy, Rouget, and Berlier of
which we have heard so much in a previous chapter.

[753] Foy, Lamartinière, Maucune and Fririon (late Sarrut). There were
behind them the King’s Spaniards and the raw Bayonne reserve.

[754] _Dispatches_, x. p. 512. The total losses having been 124 on all
three days, Wellington’s ‘no loss’ means, of course, practically no
loss.

[755] The clearest proof of Gazan’s resolute resolve not to stand,
and of the complete mendacity of his dispatches concerning his heavy
fighting on the 4th-5th and 7th, is that he returned the total of his
losses at 35 killed and 309 wounded. As he had six brigades, or 13,000
men at least, engaged, it is clear that there was no serious fighting
at all--a fact borne out by Hill’s corresponding return of 8 killed,
119 wounded, and 2 missing in the whole petty campaign.

[756] Cf. Lecestre, _Lettres inédites_, ii. p. 1037, where the Emperor
says on July 3 that he cannot make out what is happening; and that
Joseph and Jourdan are incapables.

[757] See, e. g., Joseph to Clarke, p. 336 of vol. ix of his
_Correspondance_.

[758] See vol. v, p. 97.

[759] ‘Les malheurs de l’Espagne sont d’autant plus grands qu’ils sont
ridicules.’ Napoleon to Savary, Dresden, 20 July: Lecestre, _Lettres
inédites_, ii.

[760] Even that he was withdrawing the British Army from Portugal.
Lecestre, ii. 998, May 5.

[761] Though he did once make the observation that ‘on ne conduit pas
des campagnes à 500 lieues de distance,’ in a lucid interval.

[762] See v. pp. 194-6.

[763] Napoleon to Cambacérès, Lecestre, ii. 1055.

[764] See above, p. 88.

[765] See the very interesting pages of Vidal de la Blache, i. pp.
142-3.

[766] See Roederer’s account of the interview in Vidal de la Blache, i.
pp. 132-3. Napoleon had suggested him as the best person for the errand.

[767] Napoleon to Cambacérès, Lecestre, _Lettres inédites_, ii. 1055.

[768] ‘Joey Bottles’ is the English equivalent.

[769] See especially the caustic paragraphs in Lecestre, ii. 1045,
1047, 1055, to Clarke and Cambacérès.

[770] So Jourdan’s _Mémoires_, p. viii. Vidal de la Blache, i. p.
140, says 5,000 francs only, which seems an impossibly small sum for
Marshal’s half pay.

[771] Napoleon to Cambacérès, Lecestre, ii. 1045.

[772] Napoleon to Maret, No. 28 in _Lettres de Napoléon non insérées
dans la Correspondance, Aug.-Sept.-Oct. 1813_. Paris, 1907.

[773] Bathurst to Wellington, June 23, _Supplementary Dispatches_,
viii. pp. 17-18.

[774] Liverpool to Wellington, _Supplementary Dispatches_, viii. pp.
64-5, dated July 7.

[775] Wellington to Bathurst, July 12, from Hernani. _Dispatches_, x.
p. 524.

[776] Wellington to Lord Liverpool, July 23, from Lesaca, ibid., x. p.
568. Cf. same to same, x. p. 596.

[777] _Dispatches_, x. p. 570.

[778] See Wellington to Torrens, _Dispatches_, x. p. 616.

[779] See Wellington to Bathurst, _Dispatches_, x. p. 599, and other
epistles on same topic.

[780] Called the Mirador (’look-out’), Queen’s, and Principe batteries:
there were others facing sea-ward, which were of no account in this
siege, as no attack from the water-side took place.

[781] See Jones’s _Sieges of the Peninsula_, ii. p. 94.

[782] The governor surrendered the town on August 1, but retired into
the castle of La Mota, where he capitulated a few days later, just as
Rey did in 1813.

[783] Jones’s _Sieges of the Peninsula_, ii. p. 14.

[784] Dickson’s diary, July 12, 1813, p. 960 of Colonel John Leslie’s
edition of the _Dickson Papers_.

[785] Jones, ii. p. 97.

[786] See above, p. 478.

[787] See Graham to Wellington, _Supplementary Dispatches_, viii. p.
62. The K.G.L. brigade of the 1st Division was present for a few days.

[788] Wellington to Graham, _Dispatches_, x. p. 512.

[789] _Wellington Dispatches_, x. p. 525.

[790] Melville to Wellington, _Supplementary Dispatches_, viii. pp.
224-5.

[791] Wellington to Melville, _Dispatches_, xi. p. 115.

[792] See the interesting account of his cross-country ride on June
25-9 in his _Letters from the Peninsula_, pp. 167-74.

[793] See Frazer, p. 195.

[794] In detail Jones gives them as twenty 24-pounders, six
18-pounders, four 68-pound cannonades, six 8-inch howitzers, and four
mortars.

[795] See Hartmann’s _Life_, pp. 153-4.

[796] Nos. 4, 5 in map.

[797] Nos. 1, 2, 3 in map.

[798] No. 6 in the map.

[799] Why does Belmas, who was very well informed, and used Jones’s
book, call the stormers ‘les Anglais’ and say that they lost 150 men?
(_Sièges_, iv. p. 608). He knew from Jones that they were Caçadores
only (Jones, ii. p. 21), and that their loss was under 70.

[800] Right column, to attack the cemetery and fortified houses--150 of
5th Caçadores, 150 13th Portuguese Line, three companies 1/9th Foot,
three companies 3/1st Foot (Royal Scots) all under Hay, Brigadier
of the 5th Division. Left column: 200 of 5th Caçadores, 200 of 13th
Portuguese Line, three companies 1/9th Foot--all under Bradford
commanding Portuguese independent brigade. Why did not Oswald use his
own Portuguese brigade, but draw on Bradford? Possibly because Spry’s
brigade were discouraged by the failure of their Caçador battalion on
the 15th.

[801] Generally in British narratives called the Cask Redoubt, because
wine casks had been used to revet the shifting sand of which the soil
was there composed.

[802] Batteries 8 and 7 in the map.

[803] Batteries 13 and 14 in the map.

[804] Batteries 12 and 11 in the map.

[805] No. 6 in the map.

[806] There is a curious contradiction between Jones and Belmas as to
the fate of the Cask Redoubt. The latter says that the British took
it--the former that the garrison abandoned it, though not attacked.

[807] ‘From the looseness of the sand in which the battery was
constructed, it was found impossible to keep the soles of the
embrasures sufficiently clear to use the three short 24-pounders
mounted on ship carriages--after a few rounds they had to cease
firing.’ Jones, ii. p. 28.

[808] Burgoyne’s _Life and Correspondence_, i. p. 267.

[809] Burgoyne, who took out the flag of truce, says that the French
officer who met him on the glacis used very angry words (ibid.).

[810] See _Dickson Papers_, ed. Col. Leslie, p. 970. The second breach
is marked as ‘Lesser Breach’ on the map.

[811] Burgoyne, whose diary of the siege is one of the primary
authorities, says that in his opinion the mine could have been much
more useful than it was. ‘On the discovery of the drain, I should
have immediately have altered the whole plan of attack. I would have
made a “globe of compression” to blow in the counterscarp and the
crest of the glacis, and then at low water have threatened an attack
on the breaches, exploded the mine, and have made the real assault on
the hornwork, which not being threatened had few people in it, and
would undoubtedly have been carried easily.’ There was, he says, good
cover in the hornwork, which would have been easily connected with
the parallel, and used as the base for attacking the main front, with
breaching batteries in its terre-plein and the crest of the glacis.
Burgoyne, i. p. 271. But this is wisdom after the event.

[812] Jones, ii. p. 36.

[813] For all these details see Belmas, iv. pp. 620-1.

[814] Burgoyne says (i. 369) that the engineers on the 24th settled
that the mine was no more than a signal ‘with a chance of alarming
them’. On the 25th it would seem that a little more attention, but not
nearly enough, was given to this useful subsidiary operation.

[815] Burgoyne says at 4.30.

[816] This is slurred over in the British narratives except _Dickson’s
Diary_, p. 973. Belmas gives some account of it, however, though he
calls the assailants British instead of Portuguese (iv. p. 623). They
were some companies of the 8th Caçadores.

[817] Most of this narrative is from Colin Campbell’s long and
interesting letter to Sir J. Cameron, printed on pp. 25-30 of his
_Life_ by General Shadwell.

[818] Gomm, p. 312.

[819] Frazer’s _Letters from the Peninsula_, p. 205.

[820] The 38th lost 53 men, the 9th 25, the Portuguese 138 in the
side-attack. Why need Belmas, who had Jones’s book before him, give the
total of British losses as 2,000? (_Sièges_, iv. 625).

[821] Though Jones says that he saw some wounded bayoneted.

[822] Printed in Maxwell’s _Peninsular Sketches_, vol. ii.

[823] Campbell’s letter quoted above in his _Life_, i. p. 30.

[824] ‘The men, panic stricken, turned and could never be rallied,’
writes Frazer next day (p. 204). ‘One party, I believe of the 9th and
38th, went up to the breach and then turned and ran away,’ says Larpent
(p. 200). Neither saw the actual assault in the dark.

[825] So at least he wrote to Castaños on the 24th: ‘j’espère que cette
affaire est finie.’ _Dispatches_, x. p. 564.

[826] See Frazer, p. 206, and Burgoyne, i. p. 269.

[827] See Wellington to Graham, night of the 25th, _Dispatches_, x. p.
566.

[828] Permission was given to leave four guns behind in the main
breaching batteries and two on Monte Olia, to keep up a semblance of
continued attack. _Dispatches_, x. p. 566.

[829] The British officer in command in the trenches, Major O’Halloran,
was court martialled, but acquitted. It was proved that he had given
the correct orders to the Portuguese captains of the companies on
guard, who had not obeyed them. All the prisoners except 30 were
Portuguese.

[830] The history of this proclamation is curious. Clarke, or Napoleon
himself, considered it too full of insults of a person who was, after
all, the Emperor’s brother. So it had to be disavowed: Soult wrote to
Paris that he had not authorized it, and Clarke had the ingenuity to
print in the French newspapers that it was an invention of the English
government, intended to disgust the Spanish partisans of King Joseph,
and to advertise the ill feeling that prevailed between the French
army and the Imperial family. See Vidal de la Blache, i. p. 138; as he
remarks, the style is all Soult’s, and there is not a trace of foreign
diction in it. No Englishman or Spaniard could have written it.

[831] Joseph to Napoleon, 1st February 1813.

[832] See notably the case of General Excelmans.

[833] See especially the proclamation of March 6, 1815.

[834] _Mémoires_ of St. Chamans, p. 35.

[835] Maximilien Lamarque, ii. p. 182.

[836] Stanhope’s _Conversations with Wellington_, p. 20.

[837] The gendarmerie were those who had come from the ‘legions’,
employed in 1811-12-13 as garrisons in Northern Spain. They were
embodied in units, horse and foot, and used as combatants (as at the
combat of Venta del Pozo, for which see p. 71).

[838] As Table XVI in the Appendix shows, Foy’s division received
two of Sarrut’s regiments: Cassagne’s (now Darmagnac’s) took all
the French infantry of the old Army of the Centre: Villatte’s (now
Abbé’s) was given two of Abbé’s regiments of the Army of the North:
Conroux’s division absorbed Maransin’s independent brigade: Barbot’s
(now Vandermaesen’s) received two regiments of the Army of the North:
Daricau’s (now Maransin’s) got half Leval’s ‘scrapped’ division, Taupin
the other half of it: Maucune absorbed one of Vandermaesen’s old
regiments, Lamartinière one of Sarrut’s.

[839] 120th Line of Lamartinière.

[840] 2nd Léger of same, which suffered heavily at Vittoria while under
Sarrut.

[841] 20,957 to be exact.

[842] Not only the _Afrancesados_ but some of the Army of the North
troops withdrawn from the Biscay garrisons had a poor record, and had
disgusted Foy in his recent Tolosa fight. These were high-numbered
battalions, recently made up from the Bayonne conscript reserve.

[843] The best proof of the efficiency of the bulk of Villatte’s corps
is that when Vandermaesen’s and Maucune’s divisions were cut to pieces
in the battles of the Pyrenees, Soult made up a new brigade for each of
them out of the Reserve. Joseph’s French Guards fought splendidly at
San Marcial. The Germans were very steady veteran troops.

[844] Vidal de la Blache, i. p. 160.

[845] See above, p. 533. Jourdan to Joseph, July 5. The memorandum had
been made over to Soult. Cf. Clere, _Campagne du Maréchal Soult_, p.
46, and Vidal de la Blache, i. p. 182.

[846] One asks oneself why Soult did not give Reille the Maya attack,
saving him two-thirds of his journey, and send D’Erlon to join Clausel
at St. Jean-Pied-du-Port, by a march much shorter than Reille was asked
to make.

[847] It is said that persons acquainted with the country told Soult to
send the whole column round by Bayonne, on account of the artillery,
but that he refused. As a matter of fact, Lamartinière’s division and
some of the guns _did_ go that détour, owing to the broken bridge.

[848] Wellington to Graham, July 22. _Dispatches_, x. p. 559.

[849] Ibid., p. 563, same to same.

[850] _Supplementary Dispatches_, viii. p. 113.

[851] Ibid., p. 114.

[852] Wellington to Graham, July 24, _Dispatches_, x. p. 563.

[853] Same morning, to Giron, ibid., p. 564.

[854] Wellington to Graham, 25th July, _Dispatches_, x. p. 566.

[855] Wellington to Graham, _Dispatches_, x. p. 570.

[856] See especially Lemonnier-Delafosse, pp. 211-12, and Wachholz of
Brunswick-Oels, p. 321.

[857] Vittoria and light companies of Doyle, La Union, and Legion
Estremena.

[858] La Union and the Legion, minus their light companies.

[859] Doyle and 2nd of Jaen.

[860] Sometimes called the Puerto de Val Carlos.

[861] See the very interesting letter of Bainbrigge of the 20th,
printed as an Appendix to the regimental history of that corps, p. 390.

[862] Bainbrigge says that it was 7 a.m. before the regiment reached
the Linduz, but that it was an hour earlier is demonstrated by the fact
that they heard firing at Roncesvalles after arriving. Now Byng’s fight
on the Leiçaratheca began at 6 a.m. Therefore Ross was on the Linduz
earlier.

[863] What became of this Spanish company? Captain Tovey of the 20th
(see history of that corps, p. 408) says that the French ‘made the
Spanish picquet, who were posted to give us intelligence, prisoners,
without their firing a shot’. Another account is that having seen Ross
arrive, they quietly went off to rejoin their brigade, without giving
any notice.

[864] There is a curious and interesting account of all this in the
Memoirs of Lemonnier-Delafosse, aide-de-camp to Clausel, who was twice
sent to stir up Barbot, whose conduct he describes in scathing terms
(pp. 212-14). Clausel says that the 50th stormed the Leiçaratheca. That
it stormed an abandoned position is shown by the figure of its losses.
What Clausel does not tell can be gathered from Byng’s workmanlike
dispatch to Cole, in _Supplementary Dispatches_, viii. pp. 128-9.

[865] Of the 27th and 130th Line.

[866] I confess that I doubt these figures. Martinien’s lists show the
27th Line with seven officer-casualties, the 1st Line with two, the
25th Léger with three, the 130th with two. Fourteen officer-casualties
ought to mean more like 280 than 100 casualties of all ranks. In the
whole Pyrenean campaign the French army lost 120 officers to 12,300
men--nearly 30 men to each officer. Clausel asks us to believe that
at Roncesvalles the proportion was one officer to twelve men! Yet, of
course, such disproportion is quite _possible_.

[867] While we have quite a number of good personal narratives
of the fight on the Linduz, I have found for the fight on the
Leiçaratheca nothing but the official reports of Clausel, Byng, and
Morillo, save the memoirs of George L’Estrange of the 31st and of
Lemonnier-Delafosse, who is interesting but obviously inaccurate, since
he says that the French regiment which carried the hill was the 71st.
Not only was it the 50th, as Clausel specially mentions, but 71 was a
blank number in the French Army List.

[868] Four, not five, because the light company of the 20th was absent
with the other light companies far to the right: so the wing was only
four companies strong, or three deducting Tovey’s men. Wachholz forgets
this.

[869] Wachholz, p. 322.

[870] Tovey fortunately wrote a narrative of this little affair, which
may be found in the history of the 20th, p. 408. He says: ‘The enemy’s
light troops opened so galling a fire that Major-General Ross called
out for a company to go to the front. Without waiting for orders I
pushed out with mine, and in close order and double-quick cleared
away the skirmishers from a sort of plateau. They did not wait for
us: on reaching its opposite side we came so suddenly on the head of
the enemy’s infantry column, which had just gained a footing on the
summit of the hill, that the men of my company absolutely paused in
astonishment, for we were face to face with them. The French officer
called to us to throw down our arms: I replied “bayonet away,” and
rushing on them we turned them back down the descent. Such was the
panic and confusion caused by the sudden onset, that our small party
(for such it was compared to the French column) had time to regain the
regiment, but my military readers may rest assured that it required to
be done _double quick_.’

[871] This ditch had been cut by the Spaniards in 1793 as an outer
protection to their redoubt on the Linduz.

[872] Wachholz, p. 324.

[873] The 6th Léger, 69th (2 battalions), 76th, and 36th show
casualties, the rear regiments (39th and 65th) none. Nor does Maucune’s
division. Similarly on the British side none of Anson’s or Stubbs’s
battalions contribute to the list.

[874] As we have seen already, Clausel puts his loss at the
Leiçaratheca at 160, to Byng’s and Morillo’s 120. At the other end of
the line Ross’s brigade had lost 216 men--139 of them in the 20th, 31
in the 7th, 42 in the 23rd, 4 in the Brunswick company. [I know not
where Napier got his strange statement that this company lost 42 men:
their captain, Wachholz, reports 2 killed and 2 wounded.] Foy’s six
front battalions had lost 10 officers and 361 men. The total Allied
loss was about 350, there having been a few casualties among Campbell’s
Portuguese and among the Spaniards at Orbaiceta. The total French loss
was not less than 530. Both figures are very moderate. Cole estimated
the French casualties at 2,000 men! Soult wrote that he had almost
exterminated the 20th, whose total loss had been 139.

[875] Cole to Wellington, _Supplementary Dispatches_, viii. p. 127.

[876] Wellington to Liverpool, _Dispatches_, x. p. 596.

[877] See vol. iv. pp. 389-90.

[878] Cole to Murray, Linzoain, July 26th. Wrongly dated July 27th in
_Supplementary Dispatches_, viii. p. 124.

[879] See diary of Dr. Henry, who was at Elizondo, and notes how all
the senior officers rode out eastward (p. 161).

[880] Bell, vol. i. p. 102; Cadell, p. 161.

[881] One from each battalion plus the odd company of the 5/60th
attached to each 2nd Division brigade.

[882] See Hope’s _Military Memoirs_, p. 319. Sceptical observers with
telescopes said that the objects seen were droves of bullocks.

[883] See Moyle Sherer (who commanded the picquet), p. 257.

[884] Major Thorne, assistant quartermaster-general. Moyle Sherer says
that Thorne owned that there was a small column on the move, but that
he judged it to be a battalion shifting its quarters, or a relief of
outposts.

[885] Mr. Fortescue (_History of the Army_, ix. p. 258) thinks that the
34th got up in time to join in their last struggle. But Bell of that
regiment says ‘we laboured on, but all too late--a forlorn hope--our
comrades were _all_ killed, wounded, or prisoners. The enemy had full
possession of the ground.’ Bell’s _Rough Notes_, i. p. 103.

[886] Bell’s _Rough Notes_, i. p. 103.

[887] Bell, i. p. 104.

[888] All this is most difficult to follow, our numerous sources
contradicting each other in matters of detail in the most puzzling
fashion. For this part of the narrative I have used, beside the
dispatch of William Stewart, the books of Moyle Sherer of the 34th, who
commanded the Aretesque picquet and was taken prisoner--Sir George Bell
of the same regiment, Cadell of the 28th, Hope and Sergeant Robertson
of the 92nd, Patterson of the 50th, the two anonymous diarists ‘J.
S.’ and the ‘Scottish Soldier’ of the 71st, besides D’Erlon’s and
Darmagnac’s original dispatches, lent me by Mr. Fortescue. I take it
that each authority may be followed for the doings of his own corps,
but is of inferior weight for those of other units. Patterson says that
the 34th was at one time in close touch with the 50th, Cadell that the
28th and 92nd worked together, while Hope says that the 28th was only
seen by the 92nd right wing after it had ended its terrible first entry
into the fight. Patterson says that he saw O’Callaghan of the 39th
fighting along with the 50th in the third episode of the combat, when,
according to other sources, that regiment had already retreated south
toward the valley with the 34th. Stewart’s dispatch only speaks of the
28th and 34th retiring in that direction, not the 39th. A confused
fight has left confused memories. I cannot be sure of all the details.

[889] The statement in Napier and succeeding writers that the wounded
of the right wing of the 92nd formed a bank behind which the French
advance halted, and stood to receive the fire of the left wing of that
same corps, whose bullets hit many of its comrades, comes from the
narrative of Norton of the 34th (Napier, V. appendix, p. 442), who was
some way off. That the troops which came up were the right wing 71st,
and not the left wing 92nd, seems to me proved by the narrative of Hope
of the 92nd, who distinctly says that the right wing were relieved by
the 71st, and that the left wing were still holding the Maya position
and under Stewart, who had just arrived, along with the left wing of
the 71st (_Military Memoirs_, p. 210).

[890] He himself in his dispatch only says that it was after 1 p.m.

[891] Tulloh (commanding 2nd division batteries) to Dickson, in
_Dickson Papers_, p. 1022. Wellington’s censure of Stewart may be found
in _Dispatches_, x. p. 588, and his reply to the latter’s self-defence
in xi. p. 107. The details are hard to follow: Wellington says that
Pringle ordered the guns to be taken off by the road to Maya--that
Stewart directed that they were to go back, and look to ‘the mountain
road to Elizondo’ as their proper line of retreat. When it became
necessary for them to retire at all costs, that road was already in the
hands of the French. But I do not know precisely what Wellington meant
by the mountain-road to Elizondo. Does it mean the track by which the
28th and 34th had retired?

[892] See Stewart’s Report to Hill, Berueta, July 26.

[893] Robertson, pp. 109-10.

[894] Stewart’s dispatch says that it was the 82nd who fought with
stones.

[895] This was not the brigade to which the 82nd belonged, but the
reserve brigade of the 7th Division, short of one of its units, the 3rd
Provisional.

[896] Cf. _Dispatches_, x. pp. 597-8.

[897] ‘Lettres de l’Empereur Napoléon non insérées dans la
_Correspondance_, publiées par X. Paris and Nancy, 1909,’ page 3. It is
amusing to find out what Napoleon III omitted of his uncle’s letters.

[898] ‘Lettres de l’Empereur Napoléon non insérées dans la
_Correspondance_,’ p. 13.

[899] Wellington’s letter to Graham, giving the false report that
D’Erlon had been repulsed at Maya, is dated at 10 p.m. The letter to
O’Donnell must be a little later, as it repeats this error, but adds
that a note has come in from Cole, saying that he was heavily engaged
at noon. _Dispatches_, x. pp. 566-7.

[900] The dispatch giving this information (_Dispatches_, x. p. 570)
is wrongly dated in the Wellington correspondence. It should be July
_26th_ at 4 a.m. The hour of the receipt of Hill’s and Stewart’s
reports is not given.

[901] All in _Supplementary Dispatches_, viii. pp. 120-1.

[902] Hill to Murray, _Supplementary Dispatches_, viii. p. 121.

[903] The orders to Pack and Dalhousie may be found in _Supplementary
Dispatches_, xix. p. 258-9, dated from Almandoz--obviously before
Cole’s dispatch had come to hand.

[904] This letter in _Supplementary Dispatches_, viii. pp. 124-5, is
there wrongly dated July 27th (for 26th). Cole, of course, was no
longer at Linzoain on the 27th.

[905] To Picton from Almandoz, _Supplementary Dispatches_, xiv. p. 259.

[906] Picton to Murray, 8.30 p.m., _Supplementary Dispatches_, xviii.
pp. 121-2.

[907] See above, p. 622.

[908] See above, p. 591.

[909] These are his own words, in his Report of August 2.

[910] Foy to Reille, July 20.

[911] Reille to Soult, July 27.

[912] The tall hat is vouched for by George L’Estrange of the 31st, and
Wachholz from Ross’s brigade, the furled umbrella by Bainbrigge of the
20th, all eye-witnesses, whose narratives are among the few detailed
accounts of this retreat.

[913] Words overheard by Bainbrigge in his own company.

[914] See Quartermaster-General to Picton, enclosing letter for Cole,
sent off from Lesaca on July 23 (_Supplementary Dispatches_, viii. pp.
112-13), which must have reached Picton at Olague on the 24th.

[915] This seems a more controvertible plea. Orders went out from
Lesaca on the 23rd, and must have reached Picton not very late in the
day on the 24th. Supposing he had marched from Olague on the afternoon
of the 24th, he would have been at Zubiri (only 6 miles off) on that
same night, or even at Viscarret. And from Zubiri to Roncesvalles is
not an excessive day’s march for the 25th, especially when firing was
to be heard at the front.

[916] The remaining four were in the Caçador battalion of Stubbs’s
Portuguese brigade.

[917] Unfortunately all French losses are given _en bloc_ for the
six days July 27 to August 1, and the casualties of each day cannot
be disentangled. The casualties of Maya and Roncesvalles _can_ be
ascertained, but not those of the subsequent days.

[918] Viz. about 6,000 of Cole’s division, 5,000 of his own, 1,700 of
Byng’s brigade, 2,500 of Campbell’s Portuguese at Eugui, only a few
miles away, and something under 4,000 of Morillo’s Spaniards.

[919] See Belmas, iv. p. 803.

[920] Napier says (v. p. 225), and all subsequent historians have
followed him, that Picton originally intended to place Cole on a line
between Oricain and Arleta, i. e. on the low back-slope of the ridge.
This seems to me almost incredible, as this ground is all running
downhill, completely commanded by the much loftier crests about the
Col. Surely no one, according to the tactical ideas of 1813, would
take up a defensive position half-way down a slope whose summit is
abandoned to the enemy. I can find no authority save Napier (who was
not in the battle) for this curious statement. And I am justified, I
think, in holding that the San Miguel hill was the place where Picton
intended to place Cole, by the narrative and sketch-map of Wachholz of
Ross’s brigade, who places the first position of the 4th Division on a
well-marked hill immediately to the right of Villaba, and close to the
3rd Division’s ground at Huarte. This _must_ mean San Miguel.

[921] R. Hill’s, Ponsonby’s, the Hussar brigade, and D’Urban’s
Portuguese, Fane’s brigade, which was observing on the side of Aragon,
did not arrive this day.

[922] One of the 4th Line.

[923] Reille’s report of August 1st.

[924] Clausel in his report says that he arrived in time to see the 4th
Division cross the hill of Oricain.

[925] Perhaps Carlos de España’s division, arriving from the south.

[926] All this from the very interesting narrative of Clausel’s
aide-de-camp Lemonnier Delafosse (p. 220), who bore the first message
to Soult, and was (like his chief) much irritated by the Marshal’s
caution and refusal to commit himself. Clausel had got a completely
erroneous notion of the enemy’s intentions--like Ney at Bussaco.

[927] Quartermaster-General to Sir R. Hill, _Supplementary Dispatches_,
viii. pp. 259-60.

[928] Wellington to Pack, _Supplementary Dispatches_, viii. p. 122,
wrongly dated 1 o’clock--it should be 10 o’clock. Wellington was at
Sorauren by 11.

[929] Final destination not given--clearly it might be down the
high-road to Pampeluna; but if Picton had retreated still further and
raised the siege, it might be to Lizaso, to join Hill and the rest.

[930] Wellington described his ride to Larpent, his Judge-Advocate
General, a week later, in the following terse language (Larpent, p.
242): ‘At one time it was rather alarming, certainly, and a close
run thing. When I came to the bridge of Sorauren I saw French on the
hills on one side, and it was clear that we could make a stand on the
other hill, in our position of the 28th, but I found that we could not
keep Sorauren, as it was exposed to their fire and not to ours. I was
obliged to write my orders accordingly at Sorauren, to be sent back
instantly. For if they had not been dispatched back directly, by the
way I had come, I must have sent them four leagues round, a quarter of
an hour later. I stopped therefore to write accordingly, people saying
to me all the time, “The French are coming!” “The French are coming!” I
looked pretty sharp after them every now and then, till I had completed
my orders, and then set off. I saw them just near the one end of the
village as I went out of it at the other end. And then we took up our
ground.’ Wellington then added, in a confidential moment, that there
need have been no fuss or trouble, if only Cole had kept sending the
proper information on the 26th and 27th. If only his intention of
going right back to Pampeluna had been known earlier, the 6th and
7th Divisions could have been up on the 27th, and Hill’s corps too,
which had been kept at Irurita and Berueta for 36 hours, because the
situation in the south was concealed by Cole’s reticence. ‘We should
have stopped the French much sooner.’

[931] French critics expressed surprise that Wellington did not tell
Pack to fall on Clausel’s flank and rear. But the 6th Division,
attacking from Olague, would have been out of touch with the rest of
the army, and Wellington did not believe in attacks by isolated corps
uncombined with the main army, and unable to communicate with it. See
Dumas’ _Campagne du Maréchal Soult_, p. 163.

[932] Bainbrigge’s narrative in Smyth’s _History of the XXth_, p. 396.

[933] Ibid. Bainbrigge was standing close to both.

[934] Larpent, p. 243.

[935] Lemonnier-Delafosse, p. 219.

[936] Soult to Clarke, July 28.

[937] _Supplementary Dispatches_, viii. p. 123.

[938] Ibid., p. 124.

[939] See above, p. 661.

[940] Reports of Maucune and Lamartinière dated August 3rd and 4th.

[941] Clausel’s report of August 2.

[942] There is a most curious and difficult point in this history of
the first phase of the action. Clausel says, and he is of course a
primary authority, that though Conroux was already deeply engaged with
the 6th Division, ‘was being fired on from all sides, was suffering
severe losses, and had already had one of his brigadiers disabled’
[Schwitter], he told him that he must join in the attack ‘swerving to
the left so as to mount the hill in the direction originally assigned
to him’, which was done and Conroux immediately repulsed. I cannot
see how this was physically possible. How could Conroux, if already
disadvantageously engaged with the 6th Division, and ‘fired at from
all sides’, break off this fight and attack any point of the hill of
Oricain? If he had gone away in that direction, _who was there to
hold Sorauren against Pack’s people, who were pressing in on it, and
(as Clausel says) only a musket-shot away from it_? As far as I can
make out, Conroux must have been sufficiently employed in fending off
Pack and maintaining Sorauren, so as to cover the flank of the other
divisions, for the next hour or two. No other authority but Clausel
gives any hint that Conroux got away from Pack and joined in the
general assault. And I am constrained to think that Clausel (strange as
it may seem) is making a misstatement--and that when Conroux is said to
have been ordered to attack the hill by swerving to the left, he can
only have been keeping off Pack. I note that Vidal de la Blache and
Mr. Fortescue try to accept Clausel’s story, but that General Beatson
(_With Wellington in the Pyrenees_, pp. 170-2) ignores it.

[943] I include, in reckoning Picton’s force at Bussaco, his own
division and the three battalions of Leith’s first brigade which
brought him help. In Cole’s Oricain figures are reckoned the 4th
Division, Byng’s brigade, Campbell’s Portuguese, and two Spanish
regiments.

[944] Lemonnier-Delafosse of the 31st Léger.

[945] This exceptional use of grenadiers in the skirmishing line, I
get from an observation of Bainbrigge of the 20th, who expresses his
surprise that the troops with whom he was engaged, though acting as
_tirailleurs_, were not light infantry, but men in tall bearskin caps
like the Guard, ‘some of the finest-looking soldiers I ever met’ (p.
400).

[946] The 10th Caçadores, Campbell’s light battalion, was a very weak
unit of only 250 bayonets.

[947] Clausel’s report of August 2.

[948] D’Haw of the 34th Léger.

[949] The fourth battalion of the brigade, the 1/40th was detached
below on the Spaniards’ Hill.

[950] Lemonnier-Delafosse, pp. 227-8.

[951] The Buffs lost only 2 men, the 1st Provisional (2/31st and
2/66th) only 5--so can hardly have been engaged,--but the 1/57th had 63
casualties.

[952] The above narrative is reconstructed from Reille’s two reports
(the divisional report of Lamartinière, however, is useless) and from
narratives of Stretton of the 40th in Maxwell’s _Peninsular Sketches_,
and Mills in the history of the regiment by Smythies.

[953] There is little about this affair in the British narratives.
Diarists were rare in the 6th Division. The only point of interest I
found in them is the mention of mule-guns used by the French.

[954] Larpent, p. 221. Cf. Napier, v. p. 226: ‘That will give time
for the 6th Division to arrive, and I shall beat him’--words true in
thought but perhaps never spoken by Wellington.

[955] Lapéne, p. 80.

[956] Soult to Clarke, report of the battle.

[957] See statistics in Appendix XXII.

[958] Narrative of Captain G. Wood of the 1/82nd, pp. 192-3.

[959] See _Dickson Papers_, Tulloh’s letter, p. 1022.

[960] Hill to Quartermaster-General, _Supplementary Dispatches_, viii.
p. 142.

[961] Dalhousie to Quartermaster-General, ibid.

[962] 28th Léger.

[963] 22nd Chasseurs.

[964] Soult’s general orders of July 23rd.

[965] Soult to Clarke, from Zabaldica, evening of the 28th.

[966] See St. Chamans, quoted above, p. 590.

[967] Expressed most clearly, perhaps, in the Orders issued by the
Chief of the Staff, Gazan, to the Corps-Commanders on July 29:
‘L’intention du Général en Chef est de se porter avec toute l’armée sur
la communication de Pampelune à St. Estevan.’

[968] Ordre du 29 Juillet; see also Gazan to Reille of same date.

[969] Quartermaster-General to Dalhousie and Hill, _Supplementary
Dispatches_, viii. p. 151.

[970] Ibid., Q.M.G. to Hill, p. 152. In this Da Costa’s brigade is
called the Conde de Amarante’s _division_, but Campbell had not yet
joined Da Costa.

[971] Q.M.G. to Alten, _Supplementary Dispatches_, viii. pp. 150-1.

[972] Foy (Girod de l’Ain), p. 219.

[973] These guns did not belong to Brandreth’s battery, the divisional
artillery of the 6th Division, but oddly enough to Cairnes’s battery,
which belonged to the 7th. See Duncan’s _History of the Royal
Artillery_, ii. p. 190.

[974] Sympher’s, of the K.G.L.

[975] Foy in Girod de l’Ain, p. 220.

[976] That the firing began at dawn immediately is stated by Larpent,
p. 210. That the troops were under arms before daylight is noted by the
anonymous _Soldier of the 42nd_, p. 199. The attack by the 6th Division
on Sorauren was appreciably before the descent of Cole and Byng from
the heights of Oricain.

[977] Girod de l’Ain, p. 221.

[978] 43rd Line (2 battalions).

[979] Maucune’s 34th Léger reports 13 officers and 531 men prisoners
out of a strength of 773. Why does Captain Vidal de la Blache, usually
accurate, give this as Maucune’s total loss in prisoners? (cf. p.
251). His other battalions contribute another 550. Conroux’s 55th and
58th Line give respectively 282 and 348 prisoners--the other regiments
smaller but appreciable lists of captured.

[980] Interesting accounts of this fight may be found in the narratives
of Wood of the 82nd, Green of the 68th, and Wheeler of the 51st--all in
Inglis’s brigade. They are, however, most confused, none of them having
much notion of how or where they came into the general scheme of the
fight. All speak of the steepness of the ground.

[981] I cannot make out for certain when Le Cor’s Portuguese joined
Dalhousie on the 30th, coming from the Marcalain road, where they had
been placed on the previous evening. Probably not early, as they had
64 casualties only (mostly in 2nd Caçadores), while the other brigades
had 200 apiece. The fact that the losses are nearly all in the light
battalion shows that a skirmishing pursuit was the task of Le Cor’s men.

[982] Clausel’s report is (perhaps naturally) very reticent, and would
give a reader who had no other sources to utilize a very inadequate
account of the day’s work--no one could possibly gather from it that
Conroux lost 600 prisoners and Vandermaesen 300, or that the whole
corps was in great disorder. For a picture of Conroux’s division
scattered over the hills, and its general storming at the fugitives,
see Lemonnier-Delafosse, p. 232.

The hours at which events took place on Clausel’s wing are hard to
settle. I follow him in making the artillery begin to play on Sorauren
_long_ before 7, the infantry attack soon after that hour, and the loss
of Sorauren about 9.

[983] So Lamartinière, who admits that there was ‘un peu de désordre’
but confesses much less than Foy, for whose account see Girod de l’Ain,
p. 221.

[984] Picton’s division lost 89 in Brisbane’s brigade, 20 among Power’s
Portuguese, none in Colville’s brigade.

[985] So Foy. Reille thinks that it was Sarrasibar, 3 miles farther
east.

[986] Girod de l’Ain, p. 223.

[987] See Vidal de la Blache, p. 280, for complaints by the French
_maires_ of atrocities committed.

[988] See above, p. 681.

[989] See above, p. 664.

[990] All this in Q.M.G. to Hill, &c., in _Supplementary Dispatches_,
viii. pp. 154-5, where it is stupidly printed _after_ the evening
orders given at 9 p.m.

[991] Soult says by way of Zubiri, Eugui, and Lanz, which seems a
vast circuit--this march must surely have been made on the preceding
evening: in the dark it would hardly have been possible.

[992] 75th Line. Darmagnac says in his report that its colonel attacked
the second position without orders. Martinien’s lists show that it lost
16 officers--presumably therefore over 300 men.

[993] See casualty tables in Appendix. Maransin had no losses, having
never been engaged. Hill made an astounding blunder in estimating his
total loss at 400 in his report to Wellington. Nine British and 36
Portuguese officers were hit--exactly the same number as the French
officer-casualties.

[994] Hill had Fitzgerald’s and O’Callaghan’s British brigades--2,600
deducting Maya losses, Da Costa’s brigade 2,300, Ashworth’s 2,800, and
some squadrons of Long’s light dragoons--about 8,000 in all. D’Erlon
had, also deducting 2,000 Maya losses, over 18,000 infantry in his
three divisions--not to speak of the cavalry division just arrived.

[995] Soult to Clarke, August 2.

[996] _Supplementary Dispatches_, viii. pp. 152-3.

[997] _Supplementary Dispatches_, viii. p. 154, written at Ostiz, 30th
July, many hours after the preceding note to Alten, also written on the
30th but from Villaba. It is endorsed by G. Murray, Lizaso, 11 a.m.,
31st July.

[998] One battalion and one cavalry regiment, see above, p. 681.

[999] Wellington to Q.M.G., Irurita, 3 p.m.

[1000] Narrative of L’Estrange of the 31st, p. 121.

[1001] In his report, as he explains, ‘je m’occupai de déblayer la
route, qui était encombrée d’équipages et de cavalerie.’

[1002] D’Erlon in his report of August 3 says that ‘the majority of
the enemy’s soldiers were drunk,’ an involuntary tribute to their wild
pluck.

[1003] The 7th Division had a steep scramble and a tough fight; see the
diary of Green of the 68th, p. 162.

[1004] A fact mentioned only by D’Erlon and by Rigaud’s history of the
5/60th, Fitzgerald’s corps.

[1005] So I deduce from there being precisely 10 officer-casualties in
Abbé’s regiments, according to Martinien’s lists.

[1006] Hill and the Quartermaster-General, George Murray, had settled
at 11 a.m. that Wellington’s original order was only ‘momentarily
suspended’ and not cancelled, by the necessity for driving in
‘the column of the enemy now retiring by the Donna Maria road.’
_Supplementary Dispatches_, viii. p. 163.

[1007] _Supplementary Dispatches_, viii. p. 159.

[1008] Wellington to O’Donnell, Irurita 6 a.m., on the 1st August.
_Supplementary Dispatches_, viii. p. 163.

[1009] 1/120th Line of Lamartinière.

[1010] Who were picked up by Reille some miles north of Santesteban,
having been sent forward on the Sumbilla road overnight, in charge of
the convoy of wounded. See Reille’s Report.

[1011] Reduced to five battalions, since it had detached one regiment
to the head of the column, and was short of two battalions which had
escaped by Almandoz, and one which had escaped by Zubiri and Eugui
following Foy. See above, pp. 699-700.

[1012] The chasseur regiments only--the dragoons having escorted the
artillery to Roncesvalles. Place in the column not quite certain--but
see the narrative of Lemonnier-Delafosse for P. Soult’s presence.

[1013] To Alten, 12 noon, from near Almandoz. _Dispatches_, x. p. 574.

[1014] _Dispatches_, x. p. 573.

[1015] Graham to Wellington, July 30, 5 a.m. _Supplementary
Dispatches_, viii. p. 156.

[1016] Napier (v. p. 243) and Stanhope (pp. 71-2) both say that they
had the anecdote from the Duke himself--but wrote many years after
1813. But Larpent’s absolutely contemporary diary also has the tale (p.
218) written down on August 3, only two days after the supposed event.

[1017] Wellington to O’Donnell. _Supplementary Dispatches_, viii. p.
163.

[1018] Some good diarists had been wounded at Sorauren, and fail us
after the 28th July.

[1019] One of the French officers killed on August 1, Hutant of the
59th, is registered as ‘tué en défendant l’aigle.’ Now with such
absurdly small casualty lists as those shown above, the eagle can only
have been in danger if the regiment was ‘on the run.’

[1020] I had immense difficulty in identifying this battalion, which
belonged to Barcena’s division, as Wellington mentions in his letter to
Lord Liverpool of August 4 (_Dispatches_, x. p. 598). But Wellington
calls it there a cazadore battalion, which it was not, but an old line
battalion. The trouble was first to find the composition of Barcena’s
division in July 1813, and then to hunt in Spanish regimental histories
(those of the Conde de Clonard) for a claim by any of those corps to
have been at the bridge of Yanzi on August 1. Alone among all the
regiments Asturias makes this claim--but the corps-historian says not
one word about its meritorious service--evidently unknown to him.

[1021] Reille says in his report that the order ‘halt,’ issued at
the head of the column, was repeated down the column of dragoons and
turned in the noise and confusion into ‘demi tour’. Whereupon the rear
regiments thought the column was cut off, and galloped back in panic.
‘Halte’ is not very like ‘demi tour’--but there was no doubt about the
panic.

[1022] We learn from Lamartinière’s report that it was one of the 118th
regiment.

[1023] He declares in his report that he never heard of the trouble
until nightfall.

[1024] Report of Maucune, dated August 3.

[1025] Report of Reille.

[1026] Report of the Right Wing--dated that night, August 1.

[1027] D’Erlon complains that he found no French troops whatever facing
the bridge--i. e. the 118th and Maucune had disappeared long before his
front battalion got up. The battalions engaged were the 5th Léger and
63rd and 64th Line--whose officer-casualties for that day were 1 killed
and 8 wounded.

[1028] The best account of all this is in Graham’s report,
_Supplementary Dispatches_, xiv. p. 261.

[1029] All these marches are mainly detailed from the excellent
narrative of Quartermaster Surtees of the 3/95th, pp. 223-6,
supplemented by that of Captain Cooke of the 1/43rd.

[1030] See above, p. 700.

[1031] See above, p. 707.

[1032] See above, p. 710. It was written at Ostiz on the night of the
30th, but only sent off by G. Murray from Lizaso on the morning of the
31st.

[1033] See Cooke, i. p. 315.

[1034] Cooke, i. pp. 315-16.

[1035] Some, therefore, of P. Soult’s chasseurs must have been with the
rearguard.

[1036] Cooke, i. p. 317.

[1037] Surtees, p. 226.

[1038] _Dispatches_, x. p. 591.

[1039] Probably also we must add the responsibility for Hill and the
2nd Division being at Elizondo this day, owing to the false march which
they had made--on Wellington’s orders--from the Puerto de Arraiz to the
Velate road.

[1040] Wellington in _Dispatches_, xi. p. 7, blames Barcena for
this--one would have supposed that Graham and Giron were still more
responsible, as they were in higher command.

[1041] Orders for Q.M.G. from Santesteban, 9.30 a.m. _Supplementary
Dispatches_, viii. p. 164.

[1042] Wellington to Graham, 8 p.m., from Santesteban. _Dispatches_, x.
p. 574.

[1043] Cooke, i. 819.

[1044] A brigadier in Maransin’s division.

[1045] Larpent’s diary, p. 214.

[1046] Harry Smith, i. p. 115.

[1047] Dalhousie to Cairnes in _Dickson Papers_, ed. Leslie, p. 1020.

[1048] 2/24th and 2/58th.

[1049] Wellington thought this the most desperate and gallant charge he
had ever seen. _Dispatches_, x. p. 591.

[1050] Report of Clausel, August 2. ‘Les troupes relevées n’ayant
pu, malgré les efforts des généraux Conroux et Rey, s’arrêter sur
la position indiquée, et s’étant jetées sur celles qui repoussaient
l’attaque de la direction d’Échalar, il s’ensuivit un peu de confusion,
et on fut obligé de les laisser aller jusqu’à l’hauteur de la division
Taupin.’

[1051] Ross’s brigade had a few casualties in each battalion--37 in all.

[1052] ‘Devant la division Maransin je n’ai vu que des tirailleurs,’
says Clausel. From the sequence of brigades in the 7th Division, I
think these must have been Lecor’s people.

[1053] Cooke, i. p. 320. Both he and Surtees mention that the evicted
French battalion was the 2nd Léger--a fact not to be found in the
reports of Lamartinière or of Reille.

[1054] The total French loss was probably not very great--as happens
when troops give at once, and are not pursued. Conroux’s division only
records 5 officer-casualties, Vandermaesen’s 8--which should mean a
total casualty list of 300 or so. But it is astonishing to find Reille
reporting that Maucune lost only about 20 men; if so, the flank-guard
cannot have stood at all.

[1055] Soult to Clarke, August 2, and August 6.

[1056] _Dispatches_, x. p. 591.

[1057] Ibid., x. p. 611. August 7.

[1058] 6,440 to be exact. Of which 4,708 were British and 1,732
Portuguese. The latter figure is worked out from the detailed
Portuguese returns in Appendix No. XXI, and is perceptibly lower than
Wellington’s original estimate of 2,300: stragglers no doubt had been
rejoining.

[1059] e. g. the troops on the Roncesvalles road, the two battalions
of Lamartinière which followed Foy, and Maransin’s 28th Léger from
Elizondo--at least 2,500 in all.

[1060] Cassagne succeeded Barrois shortly after.

[1061] After D’Erlon was removed to command the Army of the Centre,
this division was at different times under Remond and Semélé.

[1062] Attached to Whittingham. Regiments of Olivenza and Almanza.

[1063] 3rd Léger, properly belonging to Lamarque’s brigade from
Catalonia, was short of four companies left in garrisons.

[1064] The second battalions of these corps were left behind, along
with the 11th and 20th Ligne, two squadrons of 4th Hussars, one of 24th
Dragoons, the 3/5th Léger, and some 250 Italian Light Horse, to hold
down the kingdom of Valencia.

[1065] In Portuguese Units officers and men are given together.

[1066] The other Guards’ Brigade, 1st and 3rd batts. of 1st Guards, was
left at Oporto and did not rejoin till August.

[1067] 2/31st and 2/66th.

[1068] 2nd and 2/53rd.

[1069] 2/24th and 2/58th.

[1070] These figures are estimated from what was still surviving of
each unit when Soult reorganized the army in July 16. The Royal Guards
infantry had then 2,019 men, the line cavalry 64 officers and 500 men,
the line infantry 1,168, though it had lost over 300 men at Vittoria
and a much greater number from desertion. I take it that to allow 300
extra men at the battle for the Guard infantry, 100 more for the Line
cavalry, and 800 more for the Line infantry cannot be far out.

[1071] About 40 prisoners of the 1/71st are lost among the general
total of 223 ‘missing and stragglers’: these were the only actual
prisoners lost in the battle. See p. 416 of this volume.

[1072] i. e. 2/31st and 2/66th.

[1073] i. e. 2nd and 2/53rd.

[1074] Brunswick-Oels Head-Quarters were in the 7th Division, but
companies were distributed all around the Army. These casualties partly
belong to outlying companies, not to Head-Quarters.

[1075] Pannetier’s flying column, which tried to relieve Tarragona,
consisted of 3/5th Léger, and two battalions each of 20th Line and 3rd
Léger, with the Westphalian chasseurs: a little under 3,000 men.

[1076] But originally an A. of S. regiment, transferred to A. of N. in
January.

[1077] Originally an A. of P. regiment, but transferred to A. of N. in
January 1813.

[1078] General William Stewart, commanding the Division.

[1079] Colonel Fitzgerald, 5/60th, commanding a Brigade.

*** End of this LibraryBlog Digital Book "A history of the Peninsular War, Vol. 6" ***

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