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“The French had a ravine to pass before they could reach the enemy. They had to advance over ground much intersected, very rugged and unequal, obliging them frequently to break their line; and the positions they attacked had been previously fortified. The left could not see the right, or know what was passing there, for the rising ground between them. Every corps of the army fought apart, with unparalleled bravery, and ability too, but there was no co-operation in their efforts. The French were not then commanded by a General-in-chief, the resources of whose genius might have compensated for the advantages which the nature of the ground denied them and yielded to their enemies.

“The division of Lapisse first passed the ravine, attacked the fortified eminence, ascended it in defiance of a fire of grape-shot which mowed down its ranks, but was repulsed with the loss of its General and a great number of officers and soldiers. In retreating, it left the right of the fourth corps uncovered, which the British artillery took in flank, and forced for a moment to retire. The left of General Sebastiani’s corps advanced under a most intense fire of artillery to the fort of a redoubt on the right of the English, and between the combined armies. It was too far advanced, and too soon forward—it was encountered and driven back by the united corps of the English right and the Spanish left. Assistance came, and the combat was renewed. In the centre, Marshal Victor rallied the division of Lapisse at the foot of the hill, and abandoned all further attempt to gain possession of it. The French then tried to turn it either by the right or left. Villatte’s division advanced in the valley, and Ruffin’s moved to the right of this by the foot of the Castilian mountains. The cavalry, forming a second line, were in readiness to debouch into the plain in the rear of the enemy whenever the infantry could open a passage.

“Just as the French began to move, the English, with two regiments of cavalry, made a charge against their masses. They engaged in the valley, passed onwards regardless of the fire of several battalions of infantry, between the divisions of Villatte and Ruffin, and fell with impetuosity never surpassed on the 10th and 26th regiments of our chasseurs. The 10th could not resist the charge. They opened their ranks, but rallied immediately, and nearly the whole of the 23rd regiment of light dragoons at the head of the English cavalry was either destroyed or taken captive.

“A division of the English Royal Guards, stationed on the left and centre of their army, being charged by the French, at first repulsed them vigorously; but one of its brigades, being too far advanced, was in its turn taken in flank by the fire of the French artillery and infantry, sustained considerable loss, and retreated with difficulty behind their second line. The French took advantage of this success; they again moved forward, and but one other effort was necessary to break through into the plain, and combat on equal ground. But King Joseph thought it was too late to advance with the reserve, and the attack was delayed till the following day.⁵² Night again closed over us, and the conflict ceased from exhaustion, without either side having won such a decided advantage as to entitle it to claim the victory.

“The corps of Marshals Victor and Sebastiani withdrew successively during the night towards the reserve, leaving an advanced guard of cavalry on the scene of the engagement, to take care of the wounded. The English, who expected a new attack in the morning, were greatly surprised when day dawned to see that their enemies, leaving twenty pieces of cannon, had retreated to their old position on the Alberche. The English and Spaniards, according to their own accounts, lost 6,616 men.⁵³ The French had nearly 10,000 slain.”

Wellesley characterizes the battle as “a most desperate one … we had about two to one against us; fearful odds! but we maintained all our positions, and gave the enemy a terrible beating.” Very few of the Spanish troops were engaged in any real sense, although those who took an active part behaved well, and one of the cavalry regiments “made an excellent and well-timed charge.” The majority of them were in a “miserable state of discipline” and “entirely incapable of performing any manœuvre, however simple.” There was a sad lack of morale, qualified officers were few, and seemed either unable or unwilling to follow their allies in the matter of subjecting their men to definite regulations. When the British soldiers were engaged in removing the wounded and in burying the dead after Talavera, “the arms and accoutrements of both were collected and carried away by the Spanish troops.”

The exhausted condition of his army prevented Wellesley from following the enemy, but as Venegas was on the move and threatening Madrid, this was not regarded as of consummate importance. Of more immediate concern was the alarming intelligence received by the Commander-in-Chief a few hours later that Soult’s army was no longer in Galicia, but marching to intercept the British communications with Portugal.

CHAPTER XI
Wellesley’s Defence of Portugal
(1809–10)

“If I fail, God will, I hope, have mercy upon me, for nobody else will.”

Wellesley.

Soult, joined by Mortier and Ney, had some 50,000 men with which to face the victor of Talavera. Had Cuesta guarded the mountain passes as he was supposed to do, Wellesley would not have found himself in so awkward a predicament. Both his front and rear were threatened, the former by Victor and Sebastiani and the latter by Soult. While his ranks were sadly depleted, those of the French were augmented. By great good fortune General Craufurd and his celebrated Light Division arrived on the morning of the 29th July, the day following the conclusion of the battle.

Rumour proved on this occasion a powerful ally of the Commander-in-Chief, for had not Craufurd heard of the supposed death of Sir Arthur, it is scarcely likely that he would have urged his men, each loaded with forty pounds weight on his back, to march forty-three English miles in twenty-two hours. Wellesley made up his mind to advance against Soult, but was forced to abandon the idea when he heard that the enemy had entered Plasencia in great force, thereby severing the British communications with Lisbon. A retreat “to take up the defensive line of the Tagus” became eminently necessary. “We were in a bad scrape,” he writes on the 8th August, “from which I think I have extricated both armies; and I really believe that, if I had not determined to retire at the moment I did, all retreat would have been cut off for both.” “Both,” of course, includes the Spaniards, whose “train of mismanagement,” added to Soult’s advance, were contributing causes of his withdrawal.

The Spaniards promised to remain at Talavera to watch the movements of the enemy and to assist the wounded. No sooner was Wellesley out of the way than Cuesta felt that the position was untenable, with the result that many British soldiers, rendered unable to keep up with the Spanish troops by reason of their wounds, were made prisoners by Victor, who soon afterwards took possession of the town.

The Tagus was crossed at Arzobispo, and a rearguard of 8000 Spaniards, under Cuesta, left to defend the passage. At Almarez the bridge of boats was broken to arrest Soult’s advance from Naval Moral, no great distance away, and on the high road. As it happened, the French Marshal was able to cross the river at Arzobispo by means of a ford. He promptly defeated the Spanish force there and captured their guns. Not a few of the defenders fled, throwing away their arms and clothing, a very usual device. This was followed by the defeat of Venegas by Joseph and Sebastiani at Almonacid, near Toledo, where several thousand men were either killed, wounded, or captured, and of a Portuguese and Spanish column which had been detached from the main army, under Sir Robert Wilson, by Ney at the Puerto de Baños.

In the middle of August 1809 the various armies were occupying the following positions: British, Jaraicejo; Eguia, Deleytosa; Vanegas, La Carolina; Ney, Salamanca; Kellermann, Valladolid; Soult, Plasencia; Mortier, Oropesa and Arzobispo; Victor, Talavera and Toledo; Sebastiani, La Mancha.

The storm was followed by a lull, for the contesting armies were all but worn out and required rest. Wellesley made his headquarters first at Deleytosa, and, when that place was vacated on the 11th, at Jaraicejo; the Spanish made the former town their headquarters, and the Portuguese army, under Beresford, withdrew within their home frontier.

“While the army remained in this position,” namely, Deleytosa, General Sir George T. Napier records: “We suffered dreadfully from want of food; nothing but a small portion of unground wheat and (when we could catch them) about a quarter of a pound of old goats’ flesh each man; no salt, bread, or wine; and as the Spaniards had plundered the baggage of the British army during the battle of Talavera, there was nothing of any kind to be procured to help us out, such as tea or sugar.”⁵⁴ These defects the General determined to remedy, for “no troops can serve to any good purpose unless they are regularly fed,” a maxim equivalent to that of Napoleon that “an army moves on its stomach.”

Cuesta resigned his command, which was given to Eguia, but from henceforth the British Commander placed his sole reliance on his own forces. The lack of co-operation in the combined army was also evident in that of the French, for the various marshals had separated, and, to Napoleon’s disgust, lost a golden opportunity of crushing the hated English, which was never again vouchsafed to them. “Force Wellesley to fight on every possible occasion,” was his frequent cry. “Win if you can, but lose a battle rather than deliver none. We can afford to expend three men for every one he loses, and you will thus wear him out in the end.” Wellesley preferred to conserve his energy, not to squander it.

After repeated requests for provisions and means of transport, all more or less evasively answered by the Spanish authorities, Wellesley carried out his threat and fell back upon the frontiers of Portugal. Not without a certain suggestion of irony, he was at this time appointed a Captain-General in the Spanish service, and received six Andalusian horses “in the name of King Ferdinand the VIIth.” Shortly afterwards he was notified that he had been elevated to the Peerage, with the titles of Baron Douro of Wellesley, and Viscount Wellington of Talavera. From henceforth we shall style him Wellington, a signature he first adopted on the 16th September 1809.

“Nothing,” he writes from Merida, on the 25th August, to Castlereagh, “can be worse than the officers of the Spanish army; and it is extraordinary that when a nation has devoted itself to war, as this nation has, by the measures it has adopted in the last two years, so little progress has been made in any one branch of the military profession by any individual, and that the business of an army should be so little understood. They are really children in the art of war, and I cannot say that they do any thing as it ought to be done, with the exception of running away and assembling again in a state of nature.” In his opinion the Portuguese, under English officers, were better than the Spaniards, but both “want the habits and spirit of soldiers—the habits of command on one side, and of obedience on the other—mutual confidence between officers and men; and, above all, a determination in the superiors to obey the spirit of the orders they receive, let what will be the consequence, and the spirit to tell the true cause if they do not. In short, the fact is, there is so much trick in the Portuguese army....”

At the beginning of September he was at Badajoz, on the frontier, the advantage being, as Wellington says, “that the British army was centrically posted, in reference to all the objects which the enemy might have in view; and at any time, by a junction with a Spanish corps on its right, or a Portuguese or Spanish corps on its left, it could prevent the enemy from undertaking any thing, excepting with a much larger force than they could allot to any one object.” Here he heard that there was a likelihood of Soult attacking Ciudad Rodrigo. This information he obtained from an intercepted letter to Joseph. “The success of this scheme,” he avers, “would do them more good, and the allies more mischief, than any other they could attempt; and it is most likely of all others to be successful.” For this reason he ordered Wilson to stay north of the Tagus so as to watch Soult’s movements.

In the middle of the month the Spanish army of Estremadura, stationed at Deleytosa, was reduced to 6000 soldiers, the remainder, with Eguia, marching towards La Mancha. About the same time an army of some 13,000 men, under La Romana, whom Wellington describes as “more intelligent and reasonable” than most of his countrymen, moved from Galicia to the neighbourhood of Ciudad Rodrigo. La Romana himself proceeded to Seville and was succeeded by the Duque del Parque, who marched towards Salamanca.

Wellington watched del Parque’s forward movements with dismay, and ordered magazines to be prepared upon the Douro and Mondego “to assist in providing for these vagabonds if they should retire into Portugal, which I hope they will do, as their only chance of salvation.”

On the 10th October Wellington was at Lisbon to arrange future operations, and where he studied “on the ground” the possibility of defending Portugal. This reconnaissance resulted in the defence known as the “Lines of Torres Vedras,” of which particulars will be given as the story proceeds.⁵⁵

By the end of the month he was back at Badajoz, writing endless dispatches relative to the thousand and one concerns—military, political and financial—of the two armies. By the beginning of November del Parque was obliged to retire owing to the arrival from Estremadura of some 36,000 men under Mortier in Old Castile. Eguia’s entry into La Mancha from Estremadura two months before had been followed by the arrival of 30,000 of the enemy’s troops under Victor in that province, whereupon the Spanish commander had withdrawn to the Sierra Morena, and the French to the Tagus.

The Spanish Government now entertained the hope of gaining the complete possession of Madrid. Two forces were to be honoured with the carrying out of this ambitious project. The army of La Mancha, now under the inexperienced General Areizaga, joined by the greater part of the army of Estremadura, and consisting of 50,000 men, was to march from the Sierra Morena. Del Parque, with the army of Galicia, 20,000 strong, was to take Salamanca and then present himself before the capital. Areizaga met with some temporary success, but on the 19th November some 4000 of his men were either lying dead or wounded on the bloody field of Ocaña, within easy distance of Madrid. No fewer than 18,000 were taken prisoners by King Joseph’s troops. When the distressed General gathered together the fragments of his shattered army in the Sierra Morena, only a half of the original number were present, which means that 3000 had deserted. He must have been sadly deficient in cannon, for the French had captured over fifty pieces.

Del Parque was scarcely more successful. He was attacked at Tamames on the 19th October by troops under Marchand, whom he defeated. Thus encouraged, he advanced to Salamanca, which the French had occupied, and taken possession of. In the last week of November he was beaten at Alba de Tormes, to which he had retreated, with a loss of 3000 men. Some of his troops retired on Galicia, the remainder on Ciudad Rodrigo.⁵⁶

With the object of giving the Spanish Government time to repair their losses in southern Spain, and surmising that whatever reinforcements the French might receive would be for use against the British now that the armies under Blake, Areizaga, and del Parque were scattered, Wellington prepared to move the greater part of his army north of the Tagus, towards the frontiers of Castile, but leaving a body of troops under Lieutenant-General Hill at Abrantes, so that the Lower Tagus might not be left unguarded. Early in January 1810, Wellington made his headquarters at Coimbra, on the Mondego, and within comparatively easy distance of the sea, conceivably a useful ally now that Napoleon was sending additional reinforcements, and Soult had 70,000 men at his disposal.

The passes of Despeña Perros, and Puerto del Rey through the Sierra Morena, but weakly defended by Spanish troops under Areizaga, were forced by the French without difficulty. On the last day of January 1810, Seville capitulated. That Wellington anticipated this is proved by a letter he wrote on that date to Lord Liverpool. Cadiz was saved from a similar fate by the Duke of Albuquerque, who reached the city in the nick of time, although Victor’s outposts had been seen on the banks of the Guadalquivir. Major-General the Hon. W. Stewart was sent to assist in the defence of the place, and arrived towards the end of February with some 5000 British and Portuguese troops, while a British fleet lay in the Bay.

Meanwhile Wellington was able to report considerable progress in some of the regiments in the Portuguese army, thanks very largely to the exertions of Marshal Beresford. Fifteen regiments he had seen while marching from Badajoz to Coimbra showed decided improvement in discipline, and he had “no doubt that the whole will prove an useful acquisition to the country.” They were “in general unhealthy.” The conduct of his own troops was “infamous” when not under the inspection of officers. “They have never brought up a convoy of money that they have not robbed the chest; nor of shoes, or any other article that could be of use to them, or could produce money, that they do not steal something.”

The failure of the Walcheren Expedition⁵⁷ not only led to a duel between Canning and Castlereagh and the fall of Portland’s administration, but caused the British public to lose faith in things military. It seemed not at all improbable that the new Ministry formed by Perceval, in which Lord Wellesley became Foreign Secretary, and Lord Liverpool Secretary for War and the Colonies, would withdraw the British army from the Peninsula, especially as Talavera had aroused little or no enthusiasm, and a retreat was regarded by the man in the street as scarcely better than a defeat. In this connexion it is interesting to note that when Wellington was asked what was the best test of a great general, he gave as his answer, “To know when to retreat; and to dare to do it.” Aware of the state of public opinion, he did not press for further reinforcements.

In a letter to the Rt. Hon. John Villiers, dated Viseu, 14th January 1810, the Commander-in-Chief definitely states “that in its present state” the army was “not sufficient for the defence of Portugal.” He anticipated having 30,000 effective British troops when the soldiers then on their way from England and those in hospital were available: “I will fight a good battle for the possession of Portugal, and see whether that country cannot be saved from the general wreck.”

“I conceive,” he concludes, “that the honor and interests of the country require that we should hold our ground here as long as possible; and, please God, I will maintain it as long as I can; and I will neither endeavor to shift from my own shoulders on those of the Ministers the responsibility for the failure, by calling for means which I know they cannot give, and which, perhaps, would not add materially to the facility of attaining our object; nor will I give to the Ministers, who are not strong, and who must feel the delicacy of their own situation, an excuse for withdrawing the army from a position which, in my opinion, the honor and interest of the country require they should maintain as long as possible.

“I think that if the Portuguese do their duty, I shall have enough to maintain it; if they do not, nothing that Great Britain can afford can save the country; and if from that cause I fail in saving it, and am obliged to go, I shall be able to carry away the British army.”

The war in Spain still continued see-saw fashion. A province would be apparently conquered by Napoleon’s troops when no sooner did the troops march on than the trouble began again. This happened more especially with Suchet in Aragon. In Catalonia the intrepid O’Donnell and his men flitted about like a will-o’-the-wisp and worked sad havoc whenever they came across a detached force, though Hostalrich fell and Lerida surrendered in May, as well as the castle of Mequinenza a little later.

Napoleon had not been sleeping. In the previous year he had been too occupied in humbling Austria and annexing Rome and the Ecclesiastical States to give much attention to the Peninsula. He now placed Marshal Masséna, Prince of Essling, who by reason of his success was known as “the spoilt child of victory”—incidentally he was the son of an inn-keeper—in command of 180,000 troops, for which purpose he arrived at Valladolid in the middle of May 1810. Within a month the French forces in Spain were raised to no fewer than 366,000 men of all ranks and arms.

Surely “the heir of Charlemagne,” as Napoleon termed himself, was on the point of crushing the resistance of the Iberian Peninsula, and with it insignificant Portugal and Wellington? Was it feasible that 60,000 British, Germans, and Portuguese, sometimes aided but more often hindered by an “insurgent” rabble, and indirectly by the two remaining Spanish armies in Galicia and Estremadura, could contest with any likelihood of success more than a third of a million of trained troops? The law of probability answered in the negative.