CHAPTER VII

The First Battles of the Peninsular War

(1808)

“_In war _men_ are nothing: it is a _man_ who is everything._”

NAPOLEON.

On his return from Copenhagen, Wellesley, never happy unless his mind was fully occupied, resumed his duties as Chief Secretary for Ireland. Special mention of the services he had rendered to his country was made in the House of Commons, and there was some talk of a second period in India, where affairs were far from settled. Before long, however, it became increasingly evident that his knowledge and ability would be required nearer home.

Portugal, our old ally, had been forced by Napoleon to declare war against Great Britain on the 20th October 1807. Bent on pursuing the rigid restrictions on trade imposed by his Continental System, he had also peremptorily ordered the confiscation of the property of the British merchants. Fortunately for those most concerned, the Prince Regent remembered past friendship and may have discerned future possibilities. He temporized, and this enabled many of the English residents to settle their affairs and sail for home before the Dictator could enforce obedience. The sequel was the overrunning of the kingdom by French troops under the intrepid Junot, who met with no resistance, and the desertion of their subjects by the Royal Family, who sailed for Brazil.

Although this plan was carried out at the earnest request of the British Government, as represented by Lord Strangford, the Ambassador at the Portuguese Capital, it cannot be regarded as a pleasing example of patriotism on the part of the House of Braganza.

In October 1807, Junot, in command of the French Army, and strengthened by a few regiments of the Spanish corps placed at Napoleon’s disposal for the dismemberment of the western portion of the Iberian Peninsula, began his march on Lisbon. He concluded it on the 30th November with only 1500 troops, the remainder following slowly by reason of the terrible sufferings they had endured during a forced march made at Napoleon’s urgent behest.

Here it should be mentioned that the presence of the Spanish troops was due to the infamous Treaty of Fontainebleau, signed the previous October. In this arrangement the Emperor had promised Godoy, the real ruler of Spain and an intensely ambitious man, a large slice of territory in the country about to be conquered in return for favours rendered. It is more than probable that Napoleon never intended this particular clause to be taken seriously by anyone but his dupe; the gift was so much dust thrown in the eyes of the favourite for the purpose of securing the entry of French troops into Spain.[35] In this he was pre-eminently successful. Once in Lisbon Junot speedily removed any fear of the national army by breaking up many of the regiments and sending the remainder on service outside the kingdom. The flames of rebellion were not yet kindled. So far so good.

Unhappily the chief prizes which the Emperor had hoped to secure at Lisbon were beyond his reach. Even the squadron which was to have seized the Portuguese and British shipping in the harbour was held in check by the hated English.

Napoleon, pretending to be the friend of Spain, was in reality her worst enemy. He merely used her as a useful tool to pick Portuguese locks, and then pursued the same course with his friend’s lockers. He began his unwelcome attentions by seizing the important frontier fortresses of Pampeluna, Barcelona, San Sebastian, and Figueras, and invading the country by a force which speedily numbered 116,000 men, mostly conscripts, for he thought the country easy prey. Murat entered Madrid as Junot had entered Lisbon. By the most unscrupulous methods, namely, the enforced abdication of Charles IV and his son Ferdinand, the Emperor secured the throne, permanently as he fondly imagined, for his brother Joseph, King of Naples.

In July 1808 the eldest Bonaparte was proclaimed King, and entered his capital. Within a month he found it desirable to retire behind the Ebro; his subjects had not only broken into open revolt, but a French army of over 17,000 troops under Dupont had been forced to capitulate at Baylen, in Andalusia. Riots, assassinations, and massacres made it evident that the Spanish temper was considerably more dangerous than that of the Portuguese; it soon became obvious, moreover, that the people had employed some of their time in organizing, on a necessarily rough and ready principle, such forces as they possessed.

The inhabitants of the Asturias, in the north, were the first of the provincials to apply the torch to the tinder of revolt, after a riot in Madrid on the 2nd May 1808, and its Junta General called into being a levy of 18,000 men to protect the principality. It sent two deputies to England for assistance, which was readily given in money and military stores. Other provinces likewise selected Juntas, and Galicia also dispatched representatives to plead its cause in London. Galicia, adjoining the Asturias on the west, lost little time in following the warlike example of its neighbours, and the arsenals of Coruña and Ferrol, made memorable by the Trafalgar campaign, threw in their lot against Napoleon and contributed no fewer than thirty-two battalions of regulars and militia to the general forces. Leon and Old Castile also rose in rebellion, though with less energy. There were too many French in the Basque Provinces and Navarre for much to be attempted there. Coming still farther to the east, Catalonia sheltered 16,000 regulars and many irregular levies, but Aragon, Valencia, and Murcia were very weak. Andalusia, in the extreme south of the country, was almost as fortunately placed with regard to troops as Galicia, and the remains of the French fleet which had escaped Nelson and Collingwood were taken as they rode in Cadiz harbour.

There was nothing approaching united action, provinces and towns often vieing in more or less friendly rivalry. They did not understand, or if they understood they did not realize, that patriotic cliques do not make for strength. They fought for themselves rather than for the nation as a whole. Throughout the struggle we find a lack of cohesion.

When we come to look at the earliest available statistics[36] of the various Spanish armies which formed the front line, we find that their total strength in regulars, militia battalions, and newly-raised corps was 151,248. They were divided into five chief armies, namely, of Galicia, Aragon, Estremadura, the Centre, and Catalonia, under Generals Blake, Palafox, Galluzzo, Castaños, and Vives respectively. The troops of the second line numbered about 65,000, and included the Army of Granada, under Reding, the Army of Reserve of Madrid, commanded by San Juan, the Galician, Asturian, Estremaduran, Andalusian, Murcian and Valencian reserves, and the 3000 odd men in garrison in the Balearic Isles.

The gross total of the French Army of Spain at this period dwarfs the above figures for all their brave show; it reached 314,612. From this must be deducted 32,643 detached troops and 37,844 in hospital or missing, making the “effective” no fewer than 244,125. Of the eight corps, Victor commanded the 1st, Bessières[37] the 2nd, Moncey the 3rd, Lefebvre the 4th, Mortier the 5th, Ney the 6th, St Cyr the 7th, and Junot the 8th. There were also Reserve Cavalry and Infantry, the Imperial Guard, troops marching from Germany, and National Guards inside the French frontier.[38]

When we consider that on the 31st May 1808 Napoleon had only 116,000 men in Spain and that within six months he had found it necessary to more than double that number, the desperate nature of the undertaking becomes plain.

To enter fully into the doings of the various armies throughout the war would deflect us far out of our proper course, but we shall hear of them whenever Wellesley was involved.

If you would know the ferocious spirit of the patriots, the hate they cherished for Napoleon and the French, you have only to turn to any one of the many Memoirs of men who fought in the Peninsular War. Captain, later Sir Harry, Smith, who was with Sir John Moore in 1808 and remained with Wellesley until March 1814, gives many instances in his vivacious “Autobiography,”[39] but the following must suffice. Smith’s guide happened to be the owner of the house in which his wife and baggage were quartered in the village of Offala:

“After I had dressed myself,” he relates, “he came to me and said, ‘When you dine, I have some capital wine, as much as you and your servants like; but,’ he says, ‘come down and look at my cellar.’ The fellow had been so civil, I did not like to refuse him. We descended by a stone staircase, he carrying a light. He had upon his countenance a most sinister expression. I saw something exceedingly excited him: his look became fiend-like. He and I were alone, but such confidence had we Englishmen in a Spaniard, and with the best reason, that I apprehended no personal evil. Still his appearance was very singular. When we got to the cellar-door, he opened it, and held the light so as to show the cellar; when, in a voice of thunder, and with an expression of demoniacal hatred and antipathy, pointing to the floor, he exclaimed, ‘There lie four of the devils who thought to subjugate Spain! I am a Navarrese. I was born free from all foreign invasion, and this right hand shall plunge this stiletto in my own heart as it did into theirs, ere I and my countrymen are subjugated!’ brandishing his weapon like a demon. I see the excited patriot as I write. Horror-struck as I was, the instinct of self-preservation induced me to admire the deed exceedingly, while my very frame quivered and my blood was frozen, to see the noble science of war and the honour and chivalry of arms reduced to the practices of midnight assassins. Upon the expression of my admiration, he cooled, and while he was deliberately drawing wine for my dinner, which, however strange it may be, I drank with the gusto its flavour merited, I examined the four bodies. They were Dragoons--four athletic, healthy-looking fellows. As we ascended, he had perfectly recovered the equilibrium of his vivacity and naturally good humour. I asked him how he, single-handed, had perpetrated this deed on four armed men (for their swords were by their sides). ‘Oh, easily enough. I pretended to love a Frenchman’ (or, in his words, ‘I was an Afrancesado’), ‘and I proposed, after giving them a good dinner, we should drink to the extermination of the English.’ He then looked at me and ground his teeth. ‘The French rascals, they little guessed what I contemplated. Well, we got into the cellar, and drank away until I made them so drunk, they fell, and my purpose was easily, and as joyfully, effected.’ He again brandished his dagger, and said, ‘Thus die all enemies to Spain.’ Their horses were in his stable. When the French Regiment marched off, he gave these to some guerrillas in the neighbourhood. It is not difficult to reconcile with truth the assertion of the historian who puts down the loss of the French army, during the Spanish war, as 400,000 men, for more men fell in this midnight manner than by the broad-day sword, or the pestilence of climate, which in Spain, in the autumn, is excessive.”

That there was considerable cause for complaint on the part of the Spaniards is also borne out by other eye-witnesses. Napier records that a captain and his company came across a peasant’s hut and demanded provisions, as was their wont. The father explained that his children were half-starving, and he had but little food left. He was told that he would be hanged to a beam. Should he give a sign that he repented of his decision he would be cut down, but not otherwise. He was strung up without further ado. Then the cries of his wife and children overcame his noble act of self-sacrifice, and he was released. The soldiers then took every scrap of food in the miserable dwelling and departed. A similar method was adopted by a second body of plunderers, and when they could find nothing they spitefully killed the poor fellow, doubtless on the charge that he was hiding his stock.

Robert Blakeney, in noticing that most writers have referred to the Spanish army as “ragged, half-famished wretches,” cautions us that the men themselves must not be blamed for their unkempt appearance. “The scandal and disgrace,” he writes, “were the legitimate attributes of the Spanish Government. The members of the Cortez and Juntas were entirely occupied in peculation, amassing wealth for themselves and appointing their relatives and dependents to all places of power and emolument, however unworthy and unqualified; and although it was notorious that shiploads of arms, equipments, clothing, and millions of dollars were sent from England for the use and maintenance of the Spanish troops, yet all was appropriated to themselves by the members of the general or local governments or their rapacious satellites, while their armies were left barefoot, ragged and half-starved. In this deplorable state they were brought into the field under leaders, many of whom were scarcely competent to command a sergeant’s outlying piquet; for in the Spanish army, as elsewhere, such was the undue influence of a jealous and covetous aristocracy, that, unsupported by their influence, personal gallantry and distinction, however conspicuous, were but rarely rewarded.”[40] The same officer, who joined the 28th Regiment as a boy of fifteen and saw much service in the Peninsular War, assures us that “Courage was never wanting to the Spanish soldiers; but confidence in their chiefs was rare.”[41]

An expedition against the American colonies of Spain had been mooted several times by the British Cabinet, and Sir Arthur Wellesley had reported on ways and means. The scheme had developed sufficiently for some 8000 troops to be assembled at Cork preparatory to embarking for the voyage. It was finally decided that the troops should be used for a descent on Portugal, with the immediate intention of expelling the French and raising the enthusiasm of the population against Napoleon.

The force sailed on the 12th July 1808 with Wellesley, now a Lieutenant-General, in command.

John Wilson Croker, who served his country as Secretary to the Admiralty from 1809 to 1830, dined with Sir Arthur and Lady Wellesley in Harley Street on the evening before the General set out for Cork. After settling some business connected with Ireland, Wellesley “seemed to lapse into a kind of reverie,” his guest informs us, “and remained silent so long that I asked him what he was thinking of. He replied, ‘Why, to say the truth, I am thinking of the French that I am going to fight. I have not seen them since the campaign in Flanders, when they were capital soldiers, and a dozen years of victory under Buonaparte must have made them better still. They have besides, it seems, a new system of strategy, which has out-manœuvred and overwhelmed all the armies of Europe. ’Tis enough to make one thoughtful; but no matter: my die is cast, they may overwhelm me, but I don’t think they will out-manœuvre me. First, because I am not afraid of them, as everybody else seems to be; and secondly, because if what I hear of their system of manœuvres be true, I think it a false one as against steady troops. I suspect all the continental armies were more than half beaten before the battle was begun. I, at least, will not be frightened beforehand.”

Wellesley made the voyage to Portugal in a fast frigate, and landed at Coruña on the 20th July 1808, ahead of his troops. This gave him sufficient time to make a preliminary study of the situation at first hand, and to be ready for immediate operations on the arrival of his men.

The first news he received was not encouraging, for it told of the battle of Medina de Rio Seco, which Bessières had won against the Army of Galicia on the 14th July. A little relief was afforded by rumours of success elsewhere, and “the arrival of the British money,” speedily renewed the flagging spirits of the patriots who were fighting under such adverse conditions.

The Junta of Galicia, while keenly appreciative of gold, ammunition, and arms, showed no disposition to avail themselves of the Commander’s services, and suggested his landing in the north of Portugal as the government of Oporto was collecting native troops in that neighbourhood. “The difference between any two men,” Wellesley writes on the 21st July, the day before he sailed from Coruña, “is whether the one is a better or a worse Spaniard, and the better Spaniard is the one who detests the French most heartily. I understand that there is actually no French party in the country; and at all events I am convinced that no man now dares to show that he is a friend to the French.”

To sum up the situation was not an arduous task for Wellesley. He came to the conclusion without further ado that the only reasonable way to assist the Spaniards was “to get possession of and organize a good army in Portugal.” He proceeded to the fleet off Cape Finisterre, spent a few hours there, and then went to Oporto, where he had an important conference with the Bishop, who was also head of the Portuguese Junta, and a number of military officers. It was eventually decided that about 5300 troops, chiefly infantry, stationed at Coimbra under Bernardino Freire, should be used to co-operate with Wellesley, and that the remaining forces, namely, 12,000 peasants, should either be employed in the neighbourhood or in the province of Tras os Montes, where a French attack seemed probable. Finally a spot in Mondego Bay was chosen as the most suitable point for disembarkation, especially as it had the additional advantage of being near Coimbra. On the 1st August the business commenced, tiresome, and not unattended by danger because of the heavy surf.

Wellesley had much to think about while this was proceeding. He had just received the amazing news that he had been superseded by Sir Hew Dalrymple, with Sir Harry Burrard as second in command, that Sir John Moore was on his way with 10,000 men, and that he (Wellesley) and Lieut.-Generals the Hon. J. Hope, Sir E. Paget, and Mackenzie Frazer were to command divisions. Whatever agitation the new arrangements may have occasioned Wellesley, he did not allow it to shake his purpose or lessen his enthusiasm for the cause he had now so much at heart. He writes to Castlereagh, “Whether I am to command the army or not, or am to quit it, I shall do my best to insure its success; and you may depend upon it that I shall not hurry the operations, or commence them one moment sooner than they ought to be commenced, in order that I may acquire the credit of the success. The Government will determine for me what way they will employ me hereafter, whether here or elsewhere.” He then goes on to sketch a campaign suitable for an army “of 30,000 Portuguese troops, which might be easily raised at an early period; and 20,000 British, including 4000 or 5000 cavalry.”

“The weather was so rough and stormy,” writes one of the soldiers of the 71st Regiment, “that we were not all landed until the 5th. On our leaving the ship, each man got four pound of biscuit, and four pound of salt beef cooked on board. We marched, for twelve miles, up to the knees in sand, which caused us to suffer much from thirst; for the marching made it rise and cover us. We lost four men of our regiment, who died of thirst. We buried them where they fell. At night we came to our camp ground [Lugar], in a wood, where we found plenty of water, to us more acceptable than anything besides on earth. We here built large huts, and remained four days. We again commenced our march alongst the coast, towards Lisbon. In our advance, we found all the villages deserted, except by the old and destitute....”

On the night of the 8th, General Spencer and his corps of 4500 men joined Wellesley from Cadiz, where he had landed at the request of the Junta of Seville. By the 11th the whole army had arrived at Leiria, and on the following day it was augmented by 2300 of Freire’s Portuguese troops, their commander refusing point blank to march with his remaining forces unless certain impossible demands were met. “My object,” writes Wellesley, “is to obtain possession of Lisbon, and to that I must adhere, whatever may be the consequences, till I shall have attained it, as being the first and greatest step towards dispossessing the French of Portugal.”

Meanwhile, Junot had sent instructions to Generals Loison and Delaborde to effect a junction and attack Wellesley. This was prevented by the timely arrival of the British troops at Leiria, for the former was some sixteen miles to the south-east and the latter about the same distance to the south-west. Wellesley was consequently between them. This necessitated Loison’s return to the southward if he wished to join Delaborde, and the British General determined to prevent the operation. On the 14th, Wellesley was at Alcobaço, from whence the French had retreated but a few hours before.

Although a small engagement took place near Obidos, Wellesley did not offer battle until two days later because his whole force had not yet come up. The conflict occurred at Roliça, where Delaborde’s army was awaiting him on a hill. We know that the allied force totalled 15,000; the strength of the enemy is uncertain, Wellesley believing it to be 6000, while Professor Oman[42] gives the figure as “about 4350 men,” basing his conclusion on known official returns previous to the fight and making allowance for probable losses by sickness.

“On the morning of the 17th,” says the eye-witness already quoted, “we were under arms an hour before day. Half an hour after sunrise, we observed the enemy in a wood. We received orders to retreat. Having fallen back about two miles, we struck to the right, in order to come upon their flank, whilst the 9th, 29th, and 5th battalion of the 60th, attacked them in front. They had a very strong position on a hill. The 29th advanced up the hill, not perceiving an ambush of the enemy, which they had placed on each side of the road. As soon as the 29th was right between them, they gave a volley, which killed, or wounded, every man in the grenadier company, except seven. Unmindful of their loss, the regiment drove on, and carried the entrenchments.[43] The engagement lasted until about four o’clock, when the enemy gave way. We continued the pursuit, till darkness put a stop to it. The 71st had only one man killed and one wounded. We were manœuvring all day, to turn their flank; so that our fatigue was excessive, though our loss was but small.”

Such was the battle of Roliça, Wellesley’s first victory over the French. He was perfectly satisfied with the fighting and moral qualities of his men as displayed in this engagement.

“I cannot sufficiently applaud the conduct of the troops throughout this action,” he tells Castlereagh. Although he had a superiority of strength, the number of soldiers “actually employed in the heat of the action,” namely, 4635, was, “from unfavourable circumstances ... by no means equal to that of the enemy.” The returns showed 479 British killed, wounded, and missing, and the French about 600.