CHAPTER XIII

Masséna beats a Retreat

(1810-11)

“_There will be a breeze near Lisbon, but I hope we shall have the best of it._”

WELLINGTON.

Owing to the failure of one of Wellington’s officers to occupy the Boialva Pass, Masséna was able to turn the British position, with the result that his advanced guard appeared in front of Coimbra on the evening of the 30th September.

When the Commander-in-Chief saw the French army defiling across the mountains “he seemed uneasy,” according to one who watched him, “his countenance bore a fierce, angry expression, and, suddenly mounting his horse, he rode away without speaking.”

No attempt was made to attack the enemy, Wellington considering it more prudent to leave the ridge, cross the Mondego, and retreat towards Lisbon. This resolution was come to on the 28th September, and on the 1st October the last man of the rear-guard had evacuated the town. “Although I could not save Coimbra,” Wellington writes, “I have very little doubt of being able to hold this country against the force which has now attacked it.”

The place was immediately occupied by Masséna’s famished troops, who found it not entirely destitute of eatables, as seemed only too probable judging by previous experience, although much of the food had been destroyed by Wellington’s orders. They had merely to help themselves to what they could find, for most of the population had followed in the wake of the allied army. “The inhabitants of the country have fled from their houses universally,” the Commander-in-Chief writes to the Earl of Liverpool from Alcobaço on the 5th October, “carrying with them every thing they could take away which could be deemed useful to the enemy; and the habits of plunder which have been so long encouraged in the enemy’s army prevent them from deriving any general advantage from the little resource which the inhabitants may have been obliged to leave behind them.”

It is the straightforward utterance of a straightforward man. Wellington seldom indulged in picturesque language; he had neither the natural ability which commands a delicate choice of language nor the time for vivid diction. His mind was cast in a sterner mould; he craved for exactness, for cold, matter-of-fact calculations, for ungarnished essentials.

For graphic details we must turn to such an authority as Sir Charles Stewart, who writes with the fluency of a gifted war-correspondent permitted to ride with the officers and obtain a view of everything of importance. “Crowds of men, women, and children,” he says,“--of the sick, the aged, and the infirm, as well as of the robust and the young--covered the roads and the fields in every direction. Mothers might be seen with infants at their breasts hurrying towards the capital, and weeping as they went; old men, scarcely able to totter along, made way chiefly by the aid of their sons and daughters; whilst the whole wayside soon became strewed with bedding, blankets, and other species of household furniture, which the weary fugitives were unable to carry farther. During the retreat of Sir John Moore’s army numerous heartrending scenes were brought before us; for then, as now, the people, particularly in Galicia, fled at our approach; but they all returned sooner or later to their homes, nor ever dreamed of accumulating upon our line of march, or following our fortunes. The case was different here. Those who forsook their dwellings, forsook them under the persuasion that they should never behold them again; and the agony which such an apprehension appeared to excite among the majority exceeds any attempt at description.... It could not but occur to us that, though the devastating system must inevitably bear hard upon the French, the most serious evils would, in all probability, arise out of it, both to ourselves and our allies, from the famine and general distress which it threatened to bring upon a crowd so dense, shut up within the walls of a single city. At the moment there were few amongst us who seemed not disposed to view it with reprobation; because, whilst they condemned its apparent violation of every feeling of humanity and justice, they doubted the soundness of the policy in which it originated.”

Leaving a meagre force to guard the wounded and sick at Coimbra, Masséna started off in pursuit of the enemy as soon as the most primeval of creature comforts had been satisfied. Six days after his soldiers had left the place, namely, the 11th October 1810, Wellington’s men entered the lines of Torres Vedras, but so rapid had been the French advance that they began to appear on the following morning. La Romana had crossed from Estremadura with several thousand Spanish troops, thereby adding to Wellington’s forces, while Portuguese militia threatened the enemy’s communications.

Masséna dared not attempt to retreat for fear of incurring Napoleon’s displeasure. His only hope, as he repented at leisure, was that the supplies of the defenders might fail, or that the Emperor, in response to urgent dispatches, would speedily send reinforcements both of men and of arms. The news that Coimbra, its garrison, and its invalids, had fallen into the hands of militia under Colonel Trant merely added insult to injury. As regards “starving out” the British and their allies, it was far more probable that their own food would run out, for while Wellington held the Tagus a constant supply of the necessaries of life was secured from incoming ships. Hunger did indeed eventually drive Masséna from Santarem, a town some thirty miles from Wellington’s lines, on which he had been forced to fall back in November. The place, perched on the summit of a height between the rivers Rio Mayor and Aviella, was admirably suited for defensive purposes, but after the surrounding country had been stripped there was nothing to do but retire. The Marshal was fortunate in finding a district which the Portuguese had not laid bare. It sounds almost incredible, but it is recorded that when Masséna succeeded in crossing the frontier his men were so famished that one of them consumed no less than seventeen pounds of native bread. The French General awaited with feverish anxiety the coming of Soult to his relief for nearly four months, but that worthy was fighting battles and besieging Badajoz, which the Spaniards surrendered on the 10th March 1811, five days after his colleague had been forced by sheer necessity to begin a retreat across the mountains towards Ciudad Rodrigo.

The author of “The Journal of an Officer,” a reliable eye-witness, thus describes the town after Masséna had left it: “I have been for some weeks in view of Santarem, and saw at last with pleasure some symptoms of the French abandoning it. The first was setting fire to one of the principal convents in the upper town, and part of the lower town; the volume of smoke was immense for three days. On the fourth morning some information to depend on reached us, and the bugle of attack roused us from our pillows. The haze of the morning clearing up, we could easily perceive the out sentinels were men of straw, and quite passive.[62] In fact, a better managed retreat was never executed. Not a vestige of a dollar’s worth remained. Being at the outposts with the 11th Dragoons and the 1st Royals, I entered with them, and three miserable deserters, who had hid themselves with one too ill to move, were the only enemies to be found. Such a scene of horror, misery, and desolation, scarce ever saluted the eye of man. Smoking ruins, the accumulated filth of months, horses and human beings putrefied to suffocation, nearly caused to many a vomiting. The houses had scarcely a vestige of wood--doors, windows, ceilings, roofs, burnt; and where the sick had expired, there left to decay! The number thus left were great. Every church demolished, the tombs opened for searching after hidden plate, every altar-piece universally destroyed, and the effluvia so offensive as to defy describing.

“In some gardens, the miserable heads, undecayed, stuck up like scarecrows; in some wells, a body floating.

“Down a precipice to which we were invited by prospect to look, the human and animal carcases ... repulsed our senses, and shudderingly vibrated the soul at the savage, horrible, diabolical acts of a French army. Greater spirits, better discipline, and more order, never attended an army than this. But to see the country, is to weep for the horrors of war. Such horrid excess I never saw before. Every town, village, or cottage destroyed. The growing nursery and the wild grove, each havocked for destruction’s sake. The pot that refined the oil broken, the wine-press burnt, for burning’s sake; the grape vines destroyed as noxious weeds; the furniture unburnt thrown from the windows, and with carriages, etc., made a bonfire of; the large libraries strewed over the land in remnants of paper; the noble convent in ashes, and the poor, unhappy, aged inhabitants, unable to flee, hung around as ornamenting the walls, ten or twelve in a place!”

Wellington, who had now received reinforcements, moved his headquarters to Santarem on the 6th March, anxious to overtake the enemy with the least possible delay. He received the usual conflicting accounts of the direction taken by them and their probable destination. Oporto was suggested, which the Commander did not believe, “but they are in such a state of distress, that it may be expected that they will try anything, however desperate. But I follow them closely; and they will find it difficult to stop anywhere, for any purpose, till they shall draw near the frontier.” He detached two divisions under Beresford, hoping that he might be able to relieve Badajoz, and with five others continued to keep “close at their heels,” to use his own expression. Unfortunately the place fell before it was possible for Beresford to reach it. Had the Governor held out, Wellington was of opinion that “the Peninsula would have been safe,” and the relief of the south of Spain practically certain.

“Affairs” with the enemy were frequent during Wellington’s pursuit, but by forcing them to evacuate the various positions they attempted to occupy, such as Pombal, Redinha, Cazal Nova and Foz d’Aronce, any designs they might have had against the northern provinces were prevented, notwithstanding the fact that the country afforded “many advantageous positions to a retreating army, of which the enemy have shown that they know how to avail themselves.”

In writing to the Earl of Liverpool, Wellington remarks that “their conduct throughout this retreat has been marked by a barbarity seldom equalled, and never surpassed.” He tells a moving story of plunder, the burning of houses, a convent, and a bishop’s palace. “This is the mode,” he adds in a burst of indignation, “in which the promises have been performed, and the assurances have been fulfilled, which were held out in the proclamation of the French Commander-in-Chief, in which he told the inhabitants of Portugal that he was not come to make war upon them, but with a powerful army of 110,000 men to drive the English into the sea.

“It is to be hoped that the example of what has occurred in this country will teach the people of this and of other nations what value they ought to place on such promises and assurances; and that there is no security for life, or for anything which makes life valuable, excepting in decided resistance to the enemy.”

The difficulties of the chase were many and oftentimes almost unsurmountable. Boats and bridge-building materials were scarce, and caused delay in crossing rivers. Shoes wore out rapidly on account of the bad quality of the leather, and many of them were too small. Endless trouble was caused by the Spanish muleteers, who absolutely refused to attend the Portuguese troops, some of whom Wellington was obliged to leave in the rear owing to the scarcity of provisions. For instance, two brigades of infantry had to make nine days’ provisions, consisting chiefly of bread and a little meat supplied by the British commissariat, last for twenty-four days. “This is the assistance I receive from the Portuguese Government!” the Commander-in-Chief writes, and one can imagine his grim face hardening as he pens the words. There were the usual grievances against the rascally army contractors. The boots sent out were of bad quality, “in general too small.” We find him ordering 150,000 pairs of boots and 100,000 pairs of soles and heels at a time.

The most serious action during Masséna’s retreat was fought at Sabugal, on the Coa, on the 3rd April. “We moved on the 2nd,” Wellington says when giving details of the engagement to Beresford, “and the British army was formed opposite to them; the divisions of militia, under Trant and Wilson, were sent across the river at Cinco Villas, to alarm Almeida for its communication. Yesterday morning”--he is writing on the 4th inst.--“we moved the whole army (with the exception of the 6th division, which remained at Rapoula de Coa, opposite Loison) to the right, in order to turn this position, and force the passage of the river. The 2nd corps could not have stood here for a moment; but unfortunately the Light division, which formed the right of the whole, necessarily passed first, and the leading brigade, Beckwith’s, drove in the enemy’s piquets, which were followed briskly by four companies of the 95th, and three of Elder’s caçadores, and supported by the 43rd regiment. At this time there came on a rain storm, and it was as difficult to see as in the fogs on Busaco, and these troops pushed on too far, and became engaged with the main body of the enemy. The light infantry fell back upon their support, which instead of halting, moved forward. The French then seeing how weak the body was which had passed, attempted to drive them down to the Coa, and did oblige the 43rd to turn. They rallied again, however, and beat in the French; but were attacked by fresh troops and cavalry, and were obliged to retire; but formed again, and beat back the enemy. At this time the 52nd joined the 43rd, and both moved on upon the enemy, and to be charged and attacked again in the same manner, and beat back. They formed again, moved forward upon the enemy, and established themselves on the top of the hill in an enclosure, and here they beat off the enemy.

“But Reynier was placing a body of infantry on their left flank, which must have destroyed them, only that at that moment the head of the 3rd division, which had passed the Coa on the left of the Light division, came up, and opened their fire upon this column; and the 5th division, which passed this bridge and through this town [Sabugal], made their appearance.

“The enemy then retired, having lost in this affair a howitzer, and I should think not less than 1000 men.

“Our loss is much less than one would have supposed possible, scarcely 200 men. The 43rd have 73 killed and wounded. But really these attacks in columns[63] against our lines are very contemptible.

“The contest was latterly entirely for the howitzer, which was taken and retaken twice, and at last remained in our hands. Our cavalry, which ought to have crossed the Coa on the right of the Light division, crossed at the same ford, and therefore could be of no use to them. Besides they went too far to the right.

“In short, these combinations for engagements do not answer, unless one is upon the spot to direct every trifling movement. I was upon a hill on the left of the Coa, immediately above the town, till the 3rd and 5th divisions crossed, whence I could see every movement on both sides, and could communicate with ease with everybody; but that was not near enough.

“We took 6 Officers, and between 200 and 300 prisoners, and Soult’s[64] and Loison’s baggage.”

Two days after this affair on the banks of the Coa Masséna crossed the frontier, having been literally driven out of Portugal. Within a few hours we find Wellington urging on Beresford the necessity for a strict blockade of Badajoz preparatory to besieging it. Masséna fell back upon Salamanca, while Wellington busied himself with the investment of Almeida, where a French garrison had been left. With Ciudad Rodrigo, the second and remaining place occupied by the Marshal’s troops, he felt he could do little at the moment beyond intercepting supplies. These two forts, which are within comparatively easy distance and almost parallel, the one in Portugal and the other in Spain, were extremely important, and commanded the north-eastern frontier of the former country.

Incidentally, the British Commander-in-Chief also took the opportunity to publish a lengthy Proclamation to the Portuguese nation, of which the following is a brief synopsis. He informs the inhabitants that they are now “at liberty to return to their occupations,” that nearly four years have elapsed since “the tyrant of Europe” invaded the country, the object being “the insatiable desire of plunder, the wish to disturb the tranquillity, and to enjoy the riches of a people who had passed nearly half a century in peace.” He then strikes a deeper note and adds a few words of advice as to the future:

“The Marshal General, however, considers it his duty, in announcing the intelligence of the result of the last invasion, to warn the people of Portugal, that, although the danger is removed, it is not entirely gone by. They have something to lose, and the tyrant will endeavor to plunder them: they are happy under the mild government of a beneficent Sovereign; and he will endeavor to destroy their happiness: they have successfully resisted him, and he will endeavor to force them to submit to his iron yoke. They should be unremitting in their preparations for decided and steady resistance; those capable of bearing arms should learn the use of them; or those whose age or sex renders them unfit to bear arms should fix upon places of security and concealment, and should make all the arrangements for their easy removal to them when the moment of danger shall approach. Valuable property, which tempts the avarice of the tyrant and his followers, and is the great object of their invasion, should be carefully buried beforehand, each individual concealing his own, and thus not trusting to the weakness of others to keep a secret in which they may not be interested.

“Measures should be taken to conceal or destroy provisions which cannot be removed, and everything which can tend to facilitate the enemy’s progress; for this may be depended upon, that the enemy’s troops seize upon everything, and leave nothing for the owner.

“By these measures, whatever may be the superiority of numbers with which the desire of plunder and of revenge may induce, and his power may enable, the tyrant again to invade this country, the result will be certain; and the independence of Portugal, and the happiness of its inhabitants, will be finally established to their eternal honor.”[65]

However “beneficent” the Sovereign--who was a lunatic and out of the country--might be, Wellington had little that was good to say of its present rulers. He told them that he would inform the home Cabinet “that they cannot with propriety continue to risk a British army in this country unsupported by any exertion of any description on the part of the Portuguese Government.” The army was lamentably deficient “in that essential arm, its cavalry,” and the commissariat arrangements remained hopelessly deficient.

The blockade of Almeida being “a simple operation, which I do not think the enemy have the means or inclination to interrupt,” Wellington left it in the hands of Lieut.-General Sir Brent Spencer in the middle of April, and set out from Villa Fermosa for Alemtejo to discuss his future projects with Castaños and also to visit Beresford. He knew that the French at Almeida would be forced to withdraw or surrender owing to the scarcity of provisions, but at Ciudad Rodrigo “there is a good garrison, and we certainly shall not get that place without a siege; for which God knows if we shall have time before the enemy will be reinforced. The first object is certainly Badajoz, and, as soon as I know whether any or what part of our train is required for the attack of that place, I shall send the remainder to Oporto, and make all the arrangements for the eventual attack of Ciudad Rodrigo.”

As Soult was then busily occupied in fortifying Seville, to the south of Badajoz, the siege of the latter city became imperative, and without unnecessary delay. Soult might attempt to relieve Badajoz; certainly his presence at Seville precluded the likelihood of the garrison being deceived by any feint or actual attack made on that place by the allies with the object of distracting their attention.

Although Wellington did not meet Castaños personally during his visit to the south, he sent him a plan of operations, to be undertaken with Blake and Ballasteros in co-operation with Beresford, and got through an immense amount of work in connection with the siege. “The continued and increasing inefficiency of the Portuguese regiments with this army,” gave him much cause for concern. On the 30th April 1811, four days after Parliament had thanked him for the liberation of Portugal, he tells Beresford that “if some effectual steps are not taken, the Portuguese force with this part of the army (_i.e._ Wellington’s) will be annihilated.” He concludes by saying that he must report the matter to the home authorities, which he did. “The Ministers and the English public believe that we have 30,000 men for whom we pay, and half as many more supported by the Portuguese Government. I do not believe that I have here 11,000, or that you have 5000, and of the number many are not fit for service.”

Masséna was not the type of man who easily acknowledges defeat. He had been busily engaged at Salamanca in getting what remained of his army into working order. He had lost at least 25,000 of the 70,000 men who had entered Portugal, but when he decided to go to the assistance of Almeida he could with difficulty muster only 39,000, some 5000 more than Wellington could put into the field. Having relieved Ciudad Rodrigo, Masséna crossed the Agueda, with the fixed intention of raising the blockade of Almeida. On the 3rd May he was in sight of the British army, now arrayed at Fuentes de Oñoro.

The Commander-in-Chief had returned from his travels on the 28th of the previous month, after having been informed by Spencer of the gathering of the enemy. “I’ll venture to say,” remarks Kincaid, “that there was not a heart in the army that did not beat more lightly when we heard the joyful news of his arrival the day before the enemy’s advance.” On the 3rd May the British were “warmly but partially engaged,” and “made no progress in raising the blockade.”

The real battle began on the 5th, and was, in Alison’s opinion, “the most critical in which Lord Wellington was engaged in the whole war, and in which the chances of irreparable defeat were most against the British army.” He then gives some of Sir Charles Stewart’s reflections on the fight, which help us to appreciate its difficulties from the point of view of an actual eye-witness who took a leading part in the battle. “Masséna’s superiority to us,” he notes, “both in cavalry and artillery, was very great; whilst the thick woods in our front afforded the most convenient plateau which he could have desired for the distribution of his columns unseen, and therefore disregarded. Had he rightly availed himself of this advantage, he might have poured the mass of his force upon any single point, and perhaps made an impression before we could have had time to support it. Had he commenced his attack with a violent cannonade, it must have produced some havoc, and probably considerable confusion, in our line. He might then have moved forward his cavalry _en masse_, supporting it by strong columns of infantry; and had either the one or the other succeeded in piercing through, our situation would have been by no means an enviable one.... Had he thrown his cavalry round our right flank--a movement which we should have found it no easy matter to prevent--crossed the Coa, advanced upon our lines of communication, and stopped our supplies, at the moment when, with his infantry, he threatened to turn us; then pushed upon Sabugal and the places near, he might have compelled us to pass the Coa with all our artillery at the most disadvantageous places, and cut us off from our best and safest retreat. There was, indeed, a time during the affair of the 5th, when his design of acting in this manner was seriously apprehended; and Lord Wellington was in consequence reduced to the necessity of deciding whether he should relinquish the Sabugal road or raise the blockade of Almeida. But Lord Wellington’s presence of mind never for a moment forsook him. He felt no distrust in his troops; to retain his hold over a secure and accessible line of retreat was therefore to him a consideration of less moment than to continue an operation of which the ultimate success could now be neither doubtful nor remote; and he at once determined to expose Sabugal rather than throw open a communication with Almeida. It was a bold measure, but it was not adopted without due consideration, and it received an ample reward in the successful termination of this hard-fought battle.”

Wellington’s line was extended on a table-land between the rivers Turones and Dos Casas. It reached several miles, namely, from Fort Conception, which covered Almeida (opposite the village of that name he disposed his centre), to beyond Nava d’Aver, his right being at Fuentes de Oñoro. Poço Velho, between the latter place and Nava d’Aver, was also occupied by the left wing of the 7th Division, commanded by General Houstoun.

Masséna’s first movement was to attack the Spanish irregulars, under Don Julian Sanchez, stationed on the hill of Nava d’Aver, which was neither a lengthy nor a difficult process.

Major-General Houstoun scarcely fared better, two of his battalions being routed. The immediate consequence was that Captain Norman Ramsay’s battery of Horse Artillery, which were supporting Houstoun, were soon fighting against fearful odds. By means of a magnificent charge, while the attention of part of the French force was detracted by the dragoons under Sir Stapleton Cotton, Ramsay made good his escape with every gun.

The situation was extremely critical when the squares of the 7th and Light Divisions were attacked by the enemy’s cavalry, but Wellington did not hesitate for a moment as to the best course to pursue. He abandoned Nava d’Aver and closed in his line by a complete change of front, withdrawing some of his divisions to the heights, and Houstoun’s men behind the Turones, to a position near Freneda, which became the British right and Fuentes de Oñoro the left.

“Montbrun’s cavalry,” we are told, “merely hovered about Craufurd’s squares, the plain was soon cleared, the cavalry took post behind the centre, and the Light Division formed a reserve to the right of the 1st Division, sending the riflemen among the rocks to connect it with the 7th Division, which had arrived at Freneda, and was there joined by Julian Sanchez. At the sight of this new front, so deeply lined with troops, the French stopped short, and commenced a heavy cannonade, which did great execution, from the closeness of the allied masses; but twelve British guns replied with vigour, and the violence of the enemy’s fire abated; their cavalry then drew out of range, and a body of French infantry, attempting to glide down the ravine of the Turones, was repulsed by the riflemen and light companies of the Guards.”

Meanwhile a fierce conflict was taking place in the village of Fuentes. It continued see-saw fashion until the evening, both sides bringing up reserves and contesting every inch of the ground. Three regiments were driven from the lower parts of the village, but reinforcements were at hand, and the higher streets were never abandoned, although a chapel held by the troops in that quarter was evacuated. At nightfall the French crossed the river, leaving 400 of their dead in the village. Wellington averred that the battle “was the most difficult I was ever concerned in, and against the greatest odds. We had very nearly three to one against us engaged; about four to one of cavalry; and, moreover, our cavalry had not a gallop in them, while some of that of the enemy was fresh, and in excellent order. If Bony had been there we should have been beaten.”

As a battle the engagement scarcely could be called a victory for the Allies, but Masséna had failed to relieve Almeida, while Wellington had succeeded in covering its blockade. The total casualties of the British, Spanish, and Portuguese on the 3rd and 5th reached 1800, of the French nearly 3000, and 210 were taken prisoners. On the morning of the 8th May the last of the enemy left the field, but three days later the Commander-in-Chief received bad news. On the previous night the garrison of Almeida blew up part of the fortress and escaped, although the force sent by Wellington to blockade it was “four times more numerous than the garrison.” He characterized it as “the most disgraceful event that has yet occurred to us.” His correspondence at this period teems with references to it.

Masséna was no longer “the favoured child of victory” or Napoleon’s “right arm,” as the Emperor had called him, and he was recalled, to be succeeded by Marmont, an excellent artillery officer then not quite thirty-seven years of age, whereas Masséna was fifty-three and deemed “too old” by his autocratic sovereign.

Marmont speedily came to the conclusion when he took up his new post that without rest the so-called army of Portugal could not possibly expect to meet Wellington with any likelihood of success. He accordingly moved his troops to the province of Salamanca, where we will leave them for a little while to watch the course of the war elsewhere.

Beresford had now invested Badajoz, and engaged the enemy in several sorties, on one occasion suffering severe loss owing to the imprudence of his troops. Receiving news to the effect that Soult was rapidly approaching with the determined object of relieving it, he raised the siege and posted his army on the ridge of Albuera to stop the French advance. The British Commander had nearly 32,000 men at his disposal. Of these no fewer than 24,000 were foreigners, including the Spanish forces of Blake, Castaños, Ballasteros, and Don Carlos d’España, which had formed a junction with him. The enemy had 23,000 troops.

As Wellington was not present a detailed description of the battle, which took place on the 16th May, does not come within the province of this volume. It was one of the most fiercely contested of the entire war. So much so that Beresford used up his entire reserves and lost 4100 British troops, in addition to 1400 Portuguese and Spanish killed and wounded. The French losses were over 6000, and 500 were taken prisoners. Had it not been for Colonel Hardinge, Beresford would have retreated. Following his colleague’s advice he remained and was victorious. It was at Albuera that the 57th Foot (now the 1st Middlesex Regiment) won the well-deserved name of “Die Hards” from the fact that Colonel Inglis shouted to his troops, “Die hard, my men; die hard!”[66] “It was observed,” writes Beresford to Wellington, “that our dead, particularly the 57th regiment, were lying, as they had fought, in ranks, and that every wound was in front.”

On the 19th Wellington, with two divisions, arrived at Elvas, and on the 21st he rode to Albuera and surveyed the site of the contest. “The fighting was desperate,” he writes, “and the loss of the British has been very severe; but, adverting to the nature of the contest, and the manner in which they held their ground against all the efforts the whole French army could make against them, notwithstanding all the losses which they had sustained, I think this action one of the most glorious and honourable to the character of the troops of any that has been fought during the war.”

Surely a more noble tribute to the “common” soldier was never penned!