CHAPTER I
KING JOSEPH AND HIS TROUBLES
While following the fortunes of Wellington and Masséna, during the first four months of 1811, we have been compelled to leave almost untouched the sequence of events in the rest of Spain; not only the doings of Suchet and Macdonald in the far east, which had no practical connexion with the campaign of Portugal, but also the minor affairs of the southern and central provinces. Only Soult’s expedition to Estremadura, which came into close touch with Wellington, has been dealt with. It is time to explain the general posture of the war in the Peninsula, during the time when its critical point lay between Lisbon and Abrantes, where Masséna and Wellington stood face to face, each waiting for the other to move.
What was going on in Portugal was, as we have already seen, practically a secret to the French in Spain. For the Portuguese Ordenança and the Spanish guerrilleros had done their work of blocking the roads so well, that no accurate information penetrated to Madrid, Valladolid, or Seville from Santarem. It was only at rare intervals, when Foy and other officers cut their way through this ‘fog of war’ that the condition of affairs on the Tagus became known for a moment. The fog descended again when they had passed through on their way to Paris, and given their information as to the fortunes of the Army of Portugal during the weeks that preceded their departure. The gaps in the narrative were very long—nothing got through between the departure of Masséna from Almeida on September 15, 1810, and Foy’s first arrival at Ciudad Rodrigo on November 8th. There was another lacuna in the knowledge of the situation between that date and the passage of Masséna’s second successful messenger, Casabianca, from Santarem to Rodrigo in the earliest days of February. And after Casabianca had passed by, the next news came out through Foy’s second mission, when he started to announce the oncoming retreat on March 5, and got to the borders of Leon on March 13. The only way in which King Joseph at Madrid, or the generals of the ‘military governments’ of Old Castile, or Soult in Andalusia, felt the course of the war on its most important theatre, was that they were for many months freed from any anxiety about the movements of Wellington. He was ‘contained’ by Masséna, and, however he might be faring, he had no power to interfere by armed force in the affairs of Spain. The French for all this time had to deal only with the armies of the Cortes, and with their old and irrepressible enemies the guerrilleros of the mountains.
While the fate of the Portuguese expedition was still uncertain, while it seemed possible to Napoleon that Masséna might cling to his position at Santarem till Soult came up to join him on the Tagus, a considerable change was made with regard to the French troops in northern Spain. Convinced at last there was little to be said in favour of that system of many small ‘military governments’, in Old Castile and the neighbouring provinces, which he had created in 1810, the Emperor resolved to put them all under a single commander. This would give him six less independent generals to communicate with, and would ensure for the future a much better co-operation between the divisions which occupied the valley of the Douro and the Pyrenean regions. The six military governors had been each playing his own game, and taking little notice of that of his neighbours. Their enemies were mostly the guerrillero bands of the Cantabrian hills and of Navarre. Each general did his best to hunt these elusive enemies out of his own department, but took little heed of their trespasses on his neighbours’ territory. Evasive and indomitable partisans like Mina in Navarre, Julian Sanchez in Old Castile, and Porlier and Longa in the Cantabrian sierras, found it comparatively easy to shift their positions when the pressure on one region was too great for them, and to move on into another—they were sure that the hunt would soon slacken, and that they could return at their leisure to their old haunts. The Emperor thought that it would be possible to make an end of them, if all his garrisons and movable columns in northern Spain were put under a single commander and moved in unison under a single will. Hence came the decree of January 8, 1811, creating the ‘Army of the North,’ and handing it over to Marshal Bessières, whose name was still remembered in those regions owing to his old victory of Medina de Rio Seco. His authority extended over the troops stationed in Navarre, Biscay, Burgos, Valladolid, Salamanca, the Asturias, and Santander, including not only the regular garrisons of those provinces but the two divisions of the Young Guard, which had replaced Drouet’s corps in Old Castile, and the division under Serras which watched Galicia from the direction of Benavente and Astorga. The total of the forces placed under his orders amounted to 70,000 men, of whom 59,000 were ‘présents sous les armes,’ the rest being in hospital, or detached outside the limits of the territory assigned to the Army of the North.
Considerable as was this force, it did not accomplish all that the Emperor hoped, even when directed by a single commander of solid military talents. Bessières, though a capable officer, was not a genius, and the tasks assigned to him were so multifarious that after a short time he began to grow harassed and worried, and to cavil at every order that was sent him. He was directed to ‘suppress brigandage,’ i. e. to put down the guerrilleros, to support the Army of Portugal against Wellington whenever necessary, to keep an eye upon the Spanish regular forces in Galicia and the Asturias. This, he declared, was more than could be accomplished with the forces at his disposal. ‘If I concentrate 20,000 men all communications are lost, and the insurgents will make enormous progress. The coast would be lost as far as Bilbao. We are without resources, because it is only with the greatest pains that the troops can be fed from day to day. The spirit of the population is abominably bad: the retreat of the Army of Portugal has turned their heads. The bands of insurgents grow larger, and recruit themselves actively on every side.... The Emperor is deceived about Spain: the pacification of Spain does not depend on a battle with the English, who will accept it or refuse it as they please, and who have Portugal behind them for retreat. Every one knows the vicious system of our operations. Every one allows that we are too widely scattered. We occupy too much territory, we use up our resources without profit and without necessity: we are clinging on to dreams. Cadiz and Badajoz absorb all our means—Cadiz because we cannot take it, Badajoz because it requires a whole army to support it. We ought to blow up Badajoz, and to abandon the siege of Cadiz for the present. We ought to draw in, get solid bases for our magazines and hospitals, and regard two-thirds of Spain as a vast battlefield, which a battle may give us or cause us to lose, till the moment that we change our system and take in hand the real conquest and pacification of the country,’ &c.[264]
All this means that Bessières found it impossible to pacify the North, and concluded that it was useless to try to complete the conquest of Andalusia or Portugal, when that of Navarre and Santander was so far from being secure that no small party could go two miles from a garrison town, without a large probability of being cut off by the insurgents. He would have had his master abandon Andalusia and Estremadura, in order to concentrate such masses of troops in the north that the guerrilleros should be smothered by mere numbers, that every mountain village should have its garrison. There was small likelihood that his views would find favour at Paris; the Emperor knew well enough the effect on his prestige that would result from the abandonment of the siege of Cadiz, following upon the retreat of Masséna from Santarem. It would look like a confession of defeat, a renunciation of the great game of conquest; if the French armies retired beyond the Sierra Morena, the results of eighteen months of victorious campaigning in the south would be lost, and the Cortes at Cadiz would once more have a realm to administer. Hence all that Napoleon did for Bessières was to send him in June two new divisions for the strengthening of the garrisons of the North[265], and to bid him fortify every important station on the high-road to Madrid, and even the main bridges of the upper Ebro. A few months later he recalled him, partly because he considered him a pessimist, partly because Bessières quarrelled with King Joseph, who was continually soliciting his removal. But before the Duke of Istria departed he had many more troubles to go through, as will be seen.
The main difficulties of the Army of the North arose from geographical facts. While the plains of Leon and Old Castile could be scoured by cavalry, and easily traversed by flying columns, so that it was not impossible to keep some sort of order in them, this flat upland was bordered on the north by the long chain of the Cantabrian sierras and their foot-hills, broad, rugged, and nearly roadless. Behind these again lay the narrow and difficult coast-land of Asturias and Santander, cut up into countless petty valleys each drained by its own small river, and parted from its neighbours by spurs of the great sierras. How was this mountain region, seventy miles broad and two hundred long, to be dealt with? The French had no permanent garrisons on the coast between Gijon, the port of Oviedo, which was generally occupied by a detachment of Bonnet’s division, and Santander, not far from the borders of Biscay[266]. This last Bessières describes as ‘a bad post from every point of view, only to be defended by covering it with large bodies of troops,’ and only accessible by a series of difficult defiles. In the Cantabrian highlands dwelt Longa and Porlier, with bands which had assumed the proportions of small armies; they could communicate with the sea at any one of a dozen petty ports, and draw arms and supplies from the British cruisers of the Bay of Biscay. Even Mina would occasionally get in touch with the sea through this coast-land, though his main sphere of operations was in Navarre. There were dozens of smaller bands, each based on its own valley, but capable of joining its neighbours for a sudden stroke. Again and again French columns worked up into these sierras from the plain of the Douro, and went on a hunt after the patriots. Sometimes they caught them and inflicted severe loss; more often they were eluded by their enemies, who fled by paths that regular troops could not follow, into some distant corner of the mountains. It was impossible to garrison each upland valley with a force that could resist a general levy of the insurgents. Even little towns like Potes, in the Liebana, Longa’s usual head quarters, which were repeatedly taken, could not be kept. The ‘Army of the North’ would have required 150,000 men instead of the 70,000 whom Bessières actually commanded, if it was to master the whole of this difficult region. Indeed, Cantabria could only have been conquered by an enemy possessing a sea force to attack it in the rear, and occupy all its little ports, as well as an overwhelming land army operating from all sides. To the end of the war Longa and Porlier, often hunted but never destroyed, maintained themselves without any great difficulty in their fastnesses. Nothing but the general despair and demoralization that might have followed the extinction of the patriotic cause in the whole of the rest of Spain, could have brought the war in this region to an end. Nothing of the kind occurred: the Cantabrians kept a high spirit; they won many small successes, and they were perpetually helped by the British from the side of the sea. Bessières had a hopeless problem before him in this quarter, considering the size of his army.
But this was not his only trouble; Bonnet in Asturias was holding Oviedo and the district immediately round it with a strong division, which varied at one time and another from 6,000 to 8,000 men. He was very useful in his present position, because he cut the Spanish line of defence along the north coast in two, and because he seemed to threaten Galicia from the north-east. The threat was not a very real one, for he had not enough men to deliver an attack on eastern Galicia and at the same time to hold Oviedo and its neighbourhood. But he was a source of trouble as well as of strength to his superiors, for it was very difficult to keep in touch with him through the pass of Pajares, and if he were to be attacked at once by the Galicians and by a British landing-force, his position would be a very dangerous one. He had been put to great trouble by Renovales’s naval expedition in October 1810[267], though this was but a small force and had not received any real help from Galicia along the land side. Bessières, after he had been a few months in authority, was inclined to withdraw Bonnet to the south side of the sierras, and to abandon Oviedo, but was warned against such a move by his master, who said that this would be ‘a detestable operation,’ as it would relieve Galicia from the threat of invasion, allow of the re-formation of a Junta and an army in Asturias, and necessitate a heavy concentration at Santander[268]. Nevertheless the Marshal did at one crisis withdraw the division from Oviedo.
Between Bonnet in the Asturias and Ciudad Rodrigo, the long front against Galicia was occupied by a single weak French division, that of Serras, whose head quarters were at Benavente, his advanced post at Astorga, and his flank-guards at Leon and Zamora[269]. If the army of Galicia had been in good order this force would have been in great danger, for it was not strong enough to hold the ground allotted to it. But when Del Parque in 1809 drew off to Estremadura the old Army of the North, he had left behind him only a few skeleton corps, and the best of these had been destroyed in defending Astorga in the following year. The formation of a new Galician army of 20,000 men had been decreed, and the cadres left behind in the country had been filled up in 1810, but the results were not satisfactory. The Captain-General, Mahy, was a man of little energy, and spent most of it in quarrels with the local Junta, whom he accused of conspiracy against him, and charged with secret correspondence with La Romana and his party. He seized their letters in the post and imprisoned two members, whereupon riots broke out, and complaints were sent to the Regency at Cadiz. This led to Mahy’s recall, and the captain-generalship was given to the Duke of Albuquerque, then on his mission to London. He died without having returned to Spain, so that the appointment was nugatory, and the Regency then gave it to Castaños, who was at the same time made Captain-General of Estremadura, after the death of La Romana and the disaster at the Gebora. Castaños went to the Tagus, to rally the poor remnants of the Estremaduran army, and while retaining the nominal command in Galicia never visited that province, but deputed the command in it to Santocildes, the young general who had so bravely defended Astorga in the preceding spring. He had been sent prisoner to France, but was adroit enough to escape from his captivity, and to make his way back to Corunna. His appointment was popular, but he got no great service out of the Galician army, which was in a deplorable condition, and hopelessly scattered. The Junta kept many battalions to garrison the harbour-fortresses of Corunna, Vigo, and Ferrol, and the main body, whose head quarters lay at Villafranca in the Vierzo, did not amount to more than 7,000 men, destitute of cavalry (which Galicia could never produce) and very poorly provided with artillery. There was another division, under General Cabrera, some 4,000 strong, at Puebla de Senabria, and a third under Barcena and Losada on the borders of the Asturias, opposite Bonnet. The whole did not amount to 16,000 raw troops—yet this was sufficient to hold Serras in observation and to watch Bonnet, who was too much distracted by the Cantabrian bands to be really dangerous. But in the spring of 1811 the Galicians could do no more, and Wellington was much chagrined to find that he could get no effective assistance from them, after he had driven Masséna behind the Agueda, and so shaken the hold of the French on the whole kingdom of Leon. It was not till June that Santocildes found it possible to descend from the hills and threaten Serras. This led to a petty campaign about Astorga and on the Orbigo river, which will be narrated in its due place.
While affairs stood thus in the north, King Joseph and his ‘Army of the Centre’ were profiting for many months from the absence of any danger upon the side of Portugal. Indeed, the period between September 1810 and April 1811 were the least disturbed of any in the short and troublous reign of the Rey Intruso, so far as regular military affairs went. There was no enemy to face save the guerrilleros, yet these bold partisans, of whom the best known were the Empecinado and El Medico (Dr. Juan Palarea) on the side of the eastern mountains, and Julian Sanchez more to the west, on the borders of Leon, sufficed to keep the 20,000 men of whom King Joseph could dispose[270] in constant employment. Such a force was not too much when every small town, almost every village, of New Castile had to be provided with a garrison. Roughly speaking, each province absorbed a division: the Germans of the Rheinbund occupied La Mancha, Lahoussaye’s dragoons and the incomplete division of Dessolles[271] held Toledo and its district, the King’s Spaniards the Guadalajara country, leaving only the Royal Guards and some drafts and detachments to garrison the capital. It was with considerable difficulty that Joseph collected in January 1811 a small expeditionary force of not over 3,500 men[272], with which Lahoussaye went out, partly to open up communications with Soult in Estremadura, but more especially to search for any traces of the vanished army of Masséna in the direction of the Portuguese frontier. Lahoussaye started from Talavera on February 1, communicated by means of his cavalry with Soult’s outposts between Truxillo and Merida, and then went northward across the Tagus to Plasencia, from which his cavalry searched in vain, as far as Coria and Alcantara, for any news of the Army of Portugal. From Plasencia he was soon driven back to Toledo by want of supplies. Joseph had directed him to seize Alcantara, re-establish its broken bridge, and place a garrison there; but this turned out to be absolutely impossible, for it would have been useless to leave a small force in this remote spot, when it was certain that it must ere long retire for lack of food, and might well be cut off by the guerrilleros before it could reach Talavera, the nearest occupied point[273].
The Army of the Centre just sufficed to occupy the kingdom of New Castile, and was unable to do more. At least, however, it could maintain its position, and was in no danger. The King was even able to make state visits to places in the close neighbourhood of Madrid, such as Alcala and Guadalajara[274], and seems to have regarded the possibility of such a modest tour as a sign of the approaching pacification of this region.
But just at the moment when Joseph Bonaparte’s military situation was safe, if not satisfactory, he was passing through a diplomatic crisis which absorbed all his attention and reduced him to the verge of despair. We have already alluded, in an earlier chapter, to Napoleon’s insane resolve to annex all Spain beyond the Ebro to the French Empire[275], in return for which he was proposing to hand over Portugal, when it should be conquered, to his brother. The proclamation announcing this strange resolve, which was to make Frenchmen of Mina and all the guerrilleros of Navarre, no less than of the Catalan armies which were still striving so hard against Macdonald, was delayed in publication. For the Emperor wished to wait till Lisbon was in the hands of Masséna, before he made known his purpose. But Joseph was aware that the proclamation had been drawn up, and had been sent out to the governors of the northern provinces, who were only waiting for orders to issue it. The news that the English had evacuated Portugal might any day arrive, and would be the signal for the dismemberment of Spain. He had sent in succession to Paris his two most trusted Spanish adherents, the Duke of Santa-Fé and the Marquis of Almenara, to beg the Emperor to forgo his purpose; all was to no effect. Santa-Fé came back in December absolutely crushed by the reception that he had been given; the Emperor had delivered to him an angry diatribe, in which he complained that his brother forgot that he was a French prince, and remarked that ‘many other European sovereigns, who had received much harder measure, did not make nearly so much noise about it as the King of Spain[276].’ Almenara reached Madrid about a week later to report an equally characteristic interview with Napoleon. He had been directed to inform his master that he should be given one more chance. Let him open negotiations with the Cortes at Cadiz, making them the offer that if they would recognize him as King of Spain, he would recognize them as lawful representatives of the nation, and rule them according to the constitution drawn up at Bayonne. Cadiz and the other fortresses held by the troops of the Regency must open their gates, and Napoleon would then promise to make no annexations of Spanish soil; he would even guarantee the integrity of the kingdom. If the Cortes refused to treat, the Emperor would regard himself as free from any previous engagements made with his brother or the Spanish nation. The provinces beyond the Ebro would become part of France. He added that if affairs in Portugal went badly, it would not be wise to open negotiations with Cadiz at all, for fear that the Spaniards might take the mere fact that proposals had been made to them as a token of growing fear and depression on the part of Joseph.
The King and his ministers knew well the impracticability of making any offer to the government of Cadiz, which (with all its faults and internal dissensions) was determined to fight to the death, and had never shown the least intention of recognizing Napoleon’s nominee as King of Spain. They looked upon the scheme as merely a preliminary to the publication of the edict for the annexation of the provinces beyond the Ebro. King Joseph was to be made to demonstrate his own futility, since he would receive an angry and contemptuous reply, or no reply at all, and it would then be open to his brother to declare that the attempt to govern a united Spain by a king had failed, and that it was necessary to dismember it—perhaps to cut it up into a number of French military governments. This seems to have been Joseph’s own impression; in the council at which the Emperor’s proposal was discussed, he broke out into violent reproaches and bitter complaints against his brother, and explained with tears to his ministers that he and they were betrayed. He was now for abdicating, and this would have been the most dignified course to take. He talked of buying an estate in France, and settling down, far from Paris, as a private person. He had indeed charged his wife’s nephew, Marius Clary, to cross the Pyrenees, and purchase a castle and lands for him in Touraine or the South, where he might hide his disgrace and disappointment.
This move provoked Napoleon’s wrath. He signified his displeasure. ‘The members of the Imperial family could not legally make any acquisition of land in France without the formal consent of the Emperor. In addition, it was impossible for the King of Spain, or the commander of the Army of the Centre, to quit his post without having received the Imperial authorization. Painful as the declaration must be, if the King took such a hazardous step, he should be arrested at Bayonne on crossing the frontier. There must be no more talk about the constitution of Bayonne: the Emperor could dispose of Spain at his good pleasure, and in the interests of the French Empire alone.’ If Joseph persisted in the idea of abdication, he must first make a formal statement to that effect to the French ambassador at Madrid, and, provided that it was considered that the step would cause no dangerous results, nor give rise to any slanderous reports, he might come to his estate of Morfontaine near Paris and ‘finish the matter en règle[277].’
Joseph at first seemed inclined to accept any terms by which he might emerge from his present ignominious position, and actually had several interviews with Laforest, in which they discussed the drafting of a deed of abdication. But it seemed that Napoleon would prefer the prolongation of the present state of affairs, and for his own purposes intended that a puppet king should continue at Madrid. By the ambassador’s advice the document ultimately took the shape of a letter in which Joseph, instead of abdicating in definitive form, merely stated his wish to do so, and referred it to his brother. His confidant, Miot de Melito, with whom he talked over the whole matter, expresses his opinion that at the last moment the fascination of the crown overpowered his master’s full sense of resentment. ‘The King’s note was a good piece of writing, but I consider that it did not state clearly enough that the course to which he inclined, and which he preferred to all others, was abdication. I wished that he had made a stronger affirmation of this, and told him so, but to no effect. It was easy to see that the name of King had still a powerful attraction, from which Joseph could not escape, and I wondered at the glamour and intoxication which (as it seems) hangs about supreme power, since the mere shadow of that power could overweigh with him so many rebuffs and so much resentment[278].’
Napoleon made no reply to his brother’s declaration; he had no intention of taking over the formal responsibility for the government of Spain, and preferred to leave another to answer for all its obvious injustices and oppressions. Affairs were at a standstill for some months, till in April Joseph, taking the opportunity of a formal invitation to become one of the godfathers of the newly-born King of Rome, the heir of the Empire, made a sudden and unauthorized sally to Paris. He started from Madrid on April 23, accompanied by nine of his courtiers and ministers, and crossed the Bidassoa into France on May 10. He made no halt at Bayonne, lest he should be stopped there by orders from his brother, and when, at Dax in Gascony, he received an Imperial dispatch forbidding him to quit Spain, he was able to plead that it was too late to act upon it. Pursuing his journey night and day, he presented himself at Paris on May 15th, and announced to Napoleon that he was come to discharge in person the honourable duties of god-parent at the approaching baptism of his nephew.
Though annoyed at the King’s arrival, for refusals and evasions of a brother’s petitions are transacted more easily by letter than face to face, the Emperor thought it well to make no open show of displeasure, and accepted all the explanations given to him. There followed a series of interviews at Rambouillet, in which Joseph allowed himself to be talked out of his project of abdication: for the Emperor declared that he found him useful in his present position, and informed him that it was his duty, as a brother and a French prince, to obey the directions of the head of his house. In return Napoleon promised to make many arrangements which would render the King’s position less intolerable than it had been for the last year. He would provide him with a monthly subsidy of a million francs from the French treasury, of which half would be for the sustenance of his court and ministers, and the other half for the pay of the Army of the Centre. Orders were issued to Soult, commanding the Army of Andalusia, Bessières, commanding the newly-formed Army of the North, and Suchet, so far as the Army of Aragon was concerned (but not for Catalonia), by which they were directed to pay over to a commissary appointed by Joseph one quarter of the gross revenues which they were raising in the districts which they occupied. They were also directed to leave the law courts in the King’s hands, and not to allow judgements to be given in the name of the Emperor. It was this last practice, frequently adopted by Kellermann in Castile, which had irritated Joseph more than any other misdemeanour of the local commandants.
What Joseph most desired, a real directing power over the movements of all the French troops in Spain, was not given him. But he was granted a sort of illusory superintending authority: if he was at the head quarters of any of the armies, he was to be given the honours of supreme command; all the marshals and generals commanding armies were to send him frequent reports, and not to undertake any operations without informing him of them. ‘The King must have reports of everything that happens; he must know everything, and be able to act in his central position as a sort of agency for transmitting information to the generals. This communication of intelligence, observations, and advice may even take place through his Spanish Minister of War[279],’ wrote the Emperor. The King flattered himself that this meagre concession gave him something like a directing authority over the armies. He told his courtiers that he was given the position of General-in-Chief[280], and used his brother’s permission to send advice in reams to each of the local commanders. Unfortunately there was no way of making them take this advice; they answered more or less politely, showing reasons why they could not follow it, and went on their own ways as before. It was to no effect that Joseph got leave to have his old friend Marshal Jourdan sent back to him, first as governor of Madrid, and later as chief of the staff. He flattered himself that his dispatches would be taken more seriously by Soult or Suchet when they came countersigned by a marshal of France. But he erred, for the younger commanders looked upon Jourdan as effete and past his prime—nor were they altogether wrong.
Nothing can be more curious than the Emperor’s memorandum to Berthier, which directs him to lay these conditions before Joseph. ‘I am thus,’ he writes, ‘satisfying the desires which the King expressed to me, save on the single point of the supreme command over my troops. I cannot give away that supreme command, because I do not see any man capable of managing the troops, and yet the command ought to be one and indivisible. In the note which the King gave me, all the arrangements were complex and confused. It is in the nature of things that if one marshal were placed at Madrid, and directed all operations, he would want to have all the glory along with all the responsibility. The commanders of the Armies of the South and of Portugal would think themselves under the orders not so much of the King as of that marshal, and in consequence would not give him obedience.... My intention is to make no change whatever in the military command, neither with the Army of the North, nor the Army of Aragon, nor the Army of the South, nor the Army of Portugal, save so much as is necessary to secure for the King reports from them all.... I want to do all that I can to give the King a new prestige on his return to Spain, but nothing that may in any way disorganize the Army of Andalusia, or any of the other armies[281].’
It is clear that we have in these few sentences the key to all Napoleon’s difficulties in conducting the Spanish war. He did not wish to ‘have a marshal at Madrid who would want to have all the glory along with all the responsibility,’ i. e. he refused to make one of his servants dangerously great. Soult’s intrigues for kingship at Oporto in 1809 were not forgotten, and Soult would have been the obvious candidate for supreme command, now that Masséna had been tried and found wanting. The Emperor preferred to go on with the hopeless system that was already working, by which he himself directed operations from Paris, basing his orders on facts that were often a month old when he learnt of them, and sending out those orders to reach their destination another month later. He was aware of the evils of this arrangement, but anything was better than to hand over supreme power over 300,000 soldiers to a single lieutenant. It is strange that he did not resolve to descend into Spain himself during the summer of 1811, for European politics were at the moment so quiet that he was actually thinking of concentrating 80,000 men at Boulogne, for a real or a threatened descent on the British Isles[282], a project which he had not been able to dream of since Trafalgar. The tension between France and Russia, which was to increase in a dangerous fashion during the autumn, was not so great in May or June as to make the idea of a Spanish campaign impossible. If it was possible to think of an invasion of England at this moment, it was surely equally feasible to consider the advantages of a descent on Lisbon or Cadiz. But apparently it was the physical distance between Paris and the further end of the Peninsula which deterred the Emperor from seizing what turned out to be the last available opportunity for a sally beyond the Pyrenees. As he himself observed on another occasion, he would be at the end of the world in Portugal, and a crisis might arise behind his back before he got any adequate news of it[283]. This was different from campaigning in central Europe; when at Vienna or Berlin he was still in touch with Paris. The only parallel to an invasion of Portugal would be an invasion of Russia, and it will be remembered that Napoleon’s apprehensions were absolutely justified by what occurred in the autumn of 1812 during his absence at Moscow. The astounding conspiracy of General Malet was within an ace of succeeding, because it was possible to put about all manner of false rumours, when the Emperor was lost to sight on the steppes. A handful of plotters—we might almost say a single plotter, Malet himself—with no assets save impudence and reckless courage, seized the imperial ministers, mustered an armed force, and almost established a provisional government and mastered Paris. This was only possible because the Emperor and the grand army had got so far off that the touch between them and France had been lost, and absence of news for many days had set the tongue of rumour loose[284]. Under such circumstances almost anything might happen, for imposing as was the Colossus of the French Empire, it stood on no firm base, its feet were of clay. Napoleon hoped to build a permanent structure, but there can be no doubt that all through his reign its stability depended on his own life and strength. If he had been cut off suddenly by a cannon-ball at Jena or Wagram, or by the knife of a fanatic such as Staps—Spain could have produced such enthusiasts by the score—chaos would have supervened in France. When once the rumour was set about that the Emperor was dead, anything became possible in Paris. No one knew this better than himself; in his cynical moments he would remark to his confidants that he was well aware that if sudden death came to him the public feeling would be one of relief rather than of sorrow. It was the constraining force of his own indomitable will alone which kept everything together, and if he removed himself to some very remote corner of Europe, from which his orders could not be transmitted continuously and at short intervals, there was grave danger that the machine might run down.
Hence it may perhaps be said that the Peninsula was saved from the presence of the Emperor in 1811 because of the necessary limitations of a one-man power. He dared not remove himself from the centre of affairs; he would not make one of his jealous and ambitious lieutenants over-great, by giving him supreme command. This being so, the bad old system had to go on, and that system of over-late orders grounded on over-late information[285], and followed (or not followed) by over-late execution, was bound to fail, when the enemy’s movements were guided by the cool and resolute brain of Wellington. More than once Napoleon wrote in a petulant mood to complain that it was absurd that all his Spanish armies should be detained and kept in check by a mere 30,000 British troops[286]; he refused for a long time to take the Portuguese seriously, and would only reckon the Spanish guerrilleros as ‘brigands’ or ‘canaille.’ What he failed to see was that a small army worked by a general on the spot, who had minute local knowledge and admirable foresight, was necessarily superior to a much larger force directed by orders from a distance, and commanded by several marshals who were bitterly jealous of each other. Moreover he never thoroughly comprehended the way in which the movements of his armies were delayed by the fact that they were moving in a country where every peasant was their enemy, where provisions could only be collected by armed force, and where no dispatch would reach its destination unless it were guarded by an escort of from 50 to 250 men. And he refused to see that a division or an army corps was in Spain practically no more than the garrison of the province which it occupied—that, if it moved, that province immediately became hostile soil again, and would have to be reconquered. He was always prescribing the concentration of large bodies of men, by means of the evacuation of places or regions of secondary importance[287]. His marshals, knowing the practical inconveniences of such evacuations, were loth to carry them out. To disgarrison a region meant that all communications were cut off, and that the nearest posts were at once blockaded by guerrillero bands. Whenever the Army of Andalusia concentrated, it ceased to receive its dispatches or its convoys from Madrid, and soon learned that Granada and Seville were being menaced. Whenever the Army of the North concentrated, the road between Vittoria and Burgos was cut, and the partidas descended from the Cantabrian mountains to threaten all the posts in Old Castile. And the concentration, when made, could only continue for a few days for lack of food, for there is hardly a region in Spain where a very large army, 80,000 or 100,000 men, can live on the country for a week. It was this, and no mere jealousy of rival generals, which forced Soult and Marmont to part, as we shall see, in June 1811, and Marmont and Dorsenne in September of the same year, and which in November 1812 prevented the immense body formed by the united Armies of the South, Centre, North, and Portugal, from pursuing Wellington to Ciudad Rodrigo. If such a force as 80,000 men were concentrated, it had to be fed; after a few days of living on the country it would be forced to ask for convoys. But convoys coming from long distances were the destined prey of the guerrilleros; if not captured they were at least delayed ad infinitum. Meanwhile the army in front would run out of provisions, and be forced to scatter itself once more in order to live. After Masséna’s venture no French marshal ever dared to think of plunging into Portugal, where he knew that he would find before him a country systematically devastated. No one was better aware of this limitation of the French power than Wellington. He had written as early as 1809 that the enemy could not turn him out of the Peninsula with anything less than 100,000 men, and that he could make such arrangements that an army of that number could not live in the country. The prophecy was fulfilled over and over again. With the enormous strength of the imperial armies it was not impossible to collect 80,000 or 100,000 men—but it was impossible to feed them. All concentrations must be but temporary. When the enemy was massed, the Anglo-Portuguese army might have to give ground, or only to accept an action under the most favourable conditions. But the French would soon have to scatter, and then Wellington regained his freedom of action.
It was useless, therefore, for the Emperor to reiterate his orders that his marshals were to join their armies and ‘livrer enfin une belle bataille’ against Wellington[288]. It takes two sides to fight a battle, and Wellington was determined never to accept a general action, when the numbers were hopelessly against him. He would give back into Portugal, and the enemy could not follow him for more than a march or two.
Meanwhile, though he could not undertake to descend himself into Portugal, Napoleon did not cease to pour troops across the Pyrenees. It is often said that after Masséna’s expedition of 1810 he began to neglect the Peninsula, and to turn all his thoughts towards the growing tension with Russia. This is not correct; it ignores the fact that the French armies in Spain rose to their highest numbers during the year 1811. While not ceasing to send their regular drafts to all the corps there engaged, the Emperor dispatched three new divisions of his best troops to the front during the summer. These were no collections of newly-raised fourth battalions or régiments de marche, but old units of high reputation, drawn partly from the Army of Italy, partly from the garrisons of the coasts of France. One division, under General Souham, ultimately went to join the Army of Portugal, the second, under General Caffarelli, was absorbed in the Army of the North, the third, under General Reille, was sent to reinforce the garrison of Navarre and Aragon, where Suchet wanted fresh troops to occupy the land behind him, when he was pushing forward towards Catalonia and Valencia. In addition, two fresh regiments of Italian troops were requisitioned from the Viceroy Eugène Beauharnais for service in eastern Spain[289]. The total reinforcement to the armies beyond the Pyrenees amounted to some 25,000 men, in addition to the regular annual draft of conscripts. The deficit in the strength of the French forces caused by Masséna’s losses in Portugal was more than made up, and the gross total in October 1811 amounted to no less than 368,000 men. Nothing was withdrawn from the Peninsula till the following winter.
SECTION XXV: CHAPTER II
SUCHET ON THE EBRO. THE FALL OF TORTOSA.
DECEMBER 1810-MARCH 1811
In the last pages of the third volume of this work we brought the history of the campaigns of Suchet and Macdonald in Aragon and Catalonia as far as December 12th, 1810, the day on which the Marshal came down to the lower Ebro at the head of the field-divisions of the 7th Corps, in order to cover the long-delayed siege of Tortosa, which his colleague, the commander of the Army of Aragon, was about to take in hand.
For five months, ever since August 1810, as it will be remembered, Suchet had been waiting to commence the attack on Tortosa, which he was not strong enough to conduct with his own resources, since the besieger would have not only to execute his own operations, but to fend off at the same time all attempts by the Spanish armies of Catalonia and Valencia to relieve a fortress which was equally important to each of them. For Tortosa commanded the one land route by which Catalonia and Valencia were still able to communicate with each other; no other bridge on the Ebro was in Spanish hands. It was highly desirable to keep the line of defence in eastern Spain unbroken, and Tortosa lay at its narrowest and most dangerous point. The Emperor Napoleon attached an immense importance to its capture, and considered that after its fall, and that of Tarragona, the conquest of Valencia and the termination of the war on this side of the Peninsula would be at hand. Already in September 1810 he was looking forward to all these events as matters of the near future[290]. But though Tortosa was actually to be captured in January 1811, Tarragona in June, and Valencia in December, the long-foreseen consummation was never to come to pass. For two years more, down to the very end of the war, the indomitable Catalans were destined to maintain their independence, despite of all the successes of the French arms.
Tortosa was not quite so indispensable in reality as it looked on the map. For though it would have been a point of absolutely vital importance to the Spaniards, if they had been compelled to conduct all their operations by land, it must not be forgotten that the British command of the Mediterranean gave an alternative route for communication between north and south, which the French could never touch. Long after Tortosa had fallen, troops were repeatedly and easily transferred from Catalonia to Valencia, and vice versa, despite of the fact that Suchet had completely mastered all the land routes. Indeed it may be said that the sea passage from one to the other was always preferable to the route through Tortosa, for the country about both banks of the lower Ebro was rugged, barren, and thinly peopled, and Tortosa itself—a decayed city of 10,000 inhabitants—was the only place in this region which presented resources of any kind for an army on the march. It is, moreover, twenty miles from the sea, and not a port; strange to say, there is no decent harbour at the mouth of the Ebro. Though the river is intermittently navigable for a good many miles in its lower course, its estuary has never been a point through which trade discharges itself to the sea. The commerce of southern Catalonia goes to Tarragona, sixty miles to the north of the Ebro mouth, that of Northern Valencia to Peniscola, thirty miles to its south. Tortosa, indeed, was more important to the French than to the Spaniards, since Napoleon’s armies were tied down to land routes, and, if ever they were to make a lodgement in Valencia, would find the possession of that city and its bridge absolutely necessary, if they were to keep in touch with the troops left in Catalonia.
At last, in December 1810, Macdonald had accomplished the preliminary duties which rendered it possible for him to move on Tortosa. He had revictualled Barcelona, so that it would be safe for some months from famine, and he had repaired the gap in the French lines in northern Catalonia, which had been caused by Henry O’Donnell’s daring expedition to La Bispal in the preceding September. Though the Spanish army had not been crushed, nor indeed seriously injured, it had been thrust aside for the moment: Macdonald had brought down three divisions, over 15,000 men, to Mora on the Ebro, some twenty-five miles to the north of Tortosa, and with them he was prepared to act as a covering force to the projected siege. He was strong enough to render any attempt at relief by the Catalan army impossible, for a force sufficient to beat him could not be collected by the enemy, unless they abandoned all their outlying posts; and this was practically impossible, for local feeling in the Principality was too strong to allow of the withdrawal of the smaller Spanish detachments from the various valleys and small towns which they covered. There was still the Valencian army to be considered; but Suchet considered that he could himself deal with that unfortunate and oft-defeated force; he had already proved its weakness at the series of engagements in August[291] in which he had so effectually scattered the levies of the dictator José Caro. One division would probably suffice to keep the Valencians at bay, while with two others the actual siege of Tortosa could be taken in hand. It was the Catalan army alone which had made Suchet anxious, and he was now to be relieved of all care on that side by Macdonald.
The preparations for the siege, it will be remembered, had long been in progress; ever since August magazines and material had been accumulating at Xerta. They had been brought down the Ebro from Mequinenza, whenever the water was high enough to allow of navigation—not without much difficulty, and occasional petty disasters when the Catalan miqueletes made a pounce upon an exposed convoy[292]. Fifty-two heavy guns were now lying ready at Xerta, with 30,000 rounds of ammunition for them, and 90,000 lb. more of powder. To set in motion the besieging army and this very large battering-train, it only required that the covering forces on each side of the Ebro should take up their positions. When Macdonald had brought up his troops to Mora, and undertaken to move them to Perello, the junction point of the two roads from Tortosa to Tarragona, nothing more remained to be settled. If the Catalan army should try to attack him it would certainly be beaten, being far too weak to face 15,000 French troops concentrated in one body. For the restraining of the Valencians, on the other side of the Ebro, General Musnier with 7,000 men was placed at Uldecona, twelve miles beyond Tortosa on the great road to the south.
These arrangements being made, Suchet crossed the Ebro at Xerta by his pontoon bridge on December 15th with twelve battalions, and made a sweeping circular march to shut in Tortosa on the northern side, while five battalions more, under General Abbé, moved by the other bank to block the bridge-head, by which the city communicates with Valencia and the south. The operation was completed without resistance, save at the Col de Alba, where a post of 600 Catalans, placed to cover the road between Tortosa and the pass of Balaguer, was discovered. This small force was driven into Tortosa after a skirmish; two small convoys on their way from Tarragona by sea had to turn back, because the way into the city was closed.
The siege of Tortosa was remarkable for its swift progress and complete success—it can only be compared with Wellington’s capture of Ciudad Rodrigo, just a year later, in this respect. The Army of Aragon arrived in front of the city on December 16th—the surrender took place on January 2nd. At first sight the problem set before Suchet appeared by no means likely to receive such a rapid solution, for Tortosa as a fortress had many strong points. The city lies on and around the end of a spur of the Sierra de Alba, which runs down to the bank of the Ebro. This spur at its termination is many-headed: three ravines divide it into four separate hills, of which the highest is that crowned by the castle. The other three die down into undulations, and leave between them and the Ebro a comparatively flat space, on which the lower part of the town is built. Its higher quarters lie on the slopes where the various hills begin to rise from the level. The old enceinte of Tortosa had consisted of a mediaeval wall running across the hills and down the ravines between them, so as to enclose nothing but the inhabited parts of the city. But after a famous siege during the War of the Spanish Succession (1708), a number of outer works had been constructed to crown the culminating summit of each hill, and keep future besiegers at a distance, while part of the inner ancient fortifications had been transformed into a series of bastions, so far as the ground allowed.
The outer works were: (1) Starting from the river, on the extreme north-east front, a large hornwork called Las Tenazas[293], crowning the hill which lies most to the left, protecting the suburb of Remolinos, and commanding the flat ground as far as the river, from which it is only 400 yards distant. (2) A second hornwork covered the outer side of the castle hill: this was called El Bonete; there was a deep ravine on each side of it. (3) A sort of outer enceinte with three bastions (La Victoria, El Cristo, and Cruces) runs along the summit of the fourth hill, which is broader than the rest and expands into a plateau; the old town wall formed a second line in rear of this advanced front. (4) The last hill, that most towards the south-east, was crowned by a strong closed fort, named after the Duke of Orleans, the general who had captured the city for Philip V in the year 1708. Between the Orleans hill and the river there was no high ground; this was the only open front of the city which was approachable on a level without any natural hindrances. Here the enceinte had no outer works; it consisted of two large bastions, San Pedro and San Juan, with a demi-lune named El Temple projecting between them. This last was a low work of no great strength: the curtain behind it, which joined San Pedro and San Juan, was a mere shell with no terrace or room for guns. The other (south-western) side of the city was sufficiently protected by the broad and swift river, 300 yards in width; behind it was only the ancient wall, but, as this was wholly inaccessible, its weakness did not matter. In the middle of the river front, which was 1,200 yards long, was a gate leading to the great bridge of boats. This was protected on the further bank by a little tête-du-pont, built in the form of a ravelin and well armed with artillery.
The garrison consisted, when the siege began, of 7,179 men, including 600 artillery and a weak battalion of Urban Guards. The regiments were drawn partly from the Catalonian and partly from the Valencian army, there being seven battalions from the former and four from the latter[294]. The governor was Major-General Lilli, Conde de Alacha, an old officer who had won some credit, two years back, by bringing off his small corps intact after the battle of Tudela, when he had been cut off by the French in the mountains[295]. Unfortunately it is impossible to argue that because an officer has made a skilful retreat he is a good fighting-man. Lilli, indeed, proved the reverse on this occasion—all that can be said in his defence is that he was old and in bad health. His conduct during the siege was vacillating and inexplicable; he more than once declared that he would give over charge of the defence to the second in command, Brigadier-General Yriarte. But he would then appear again, and countermand all Yriarte’s orders. In the end he capitulated on his own account, against the wishes and without the knowledge of the brigadier.
The problem in poliorcetics set before Suchet and his engineers at Tortosa had some resemblance to that which was to confront Wellington at Badajoz a few months later. Given a town to besiege which is partly built on heights crowned by forts and partly in the flat, is it better to attack one of the forts, which if taken commands the whole town, or to start against the lower front? The latter will be easier to assail, but after its fall the strongholds on the heights may hold out as independent fortresses. Whereas if a dominating work on a high-lying hill is taken in hand, it may make a very hard and long resistance, but, if once it is captured, the whole city is overlooked by it and must surrender. The answer to the problem seems to be that all depends on the governor and the garrison; if he and they are weak, it will suffice to attack the easier front, for when the lower town has fallen the morale will be so shaken that they will surrender, without attempting to hold the upper works. But if they are active and obstinate, it may be worth while to aim at the most commanding position, which, if captured, absolutely compels the capitulation of the whole place. Yet there remains the danger that the crucial fort may be so strong that no effort can take it from a determined defender. This happened to Wellington at the two earlier sieges of Badajoz; the fall of San Cristobal would have brought about most inevitably the surrender of the city. But it proved too hard a nut to crack, in the time and with the means at the English general’s disposal. Suchet at Tortosa struck at the easiest front, taking the risk that he might have to conduct a second siege of the upper works (as he had to do at Tarragona, his next leaguer). When he had breached the weakest point, but before a storm had been tried, the imbecile governor capitulated.
The weak front of Tortosa was the bastion of San Pedro and the demi-lune of El Temple on its flank. They were not properly supported or flanked by any works on higher ground, for Fort Orleans (on the nearest hill) did not command all the flats in front of San Pedro, and moreover Suchet intended to give this fort so much business on its own account that its gunners would have little attention to spare for the attack on the lower ground to their right. There were two additional advantages: the soil in front of San Pedro was soft river mould, very easy to dig; and moreover this bastion could be enfiladed by batteries on the other side of the Ebro. Such batteries had nothing to fear, if properly constructed, from the guns of the little tête-du-pont; while on the river front of the city there were no cannon at all—they could not be mounted on the mediaeval walls.
On the 16th, 17th, and 18th Suchet was employed in bringing up his siege-guns, choosing the emplacements of his camps, and constructing flying-bridges across the river, both above and below the fortress. On the 19th active operations started, with the development of a false attack on Fort Orleans, whose attention it was necessary to distract. The construction of a first parallel against this work was begun with some ostentation, and had to be carried out under a furious fire from its artillery. On the night of the 20th-21st the real business commenced: 2,300 men crept across the flat ground by the river opposite San Pedro, and threw up an entrenchment within 160 yards of its ditch. They were undiscovered and unopposed, for the night was dark and windy, and the Spaniards had no outposts beyond the walls, and kept bad watch. At dawn 500 paces of trench had been constructed, and a safe access to the parallel had been contrived, by connecting one of its ends with a ravine which cuts across the flat a little to the rear, and whose bottom could not be searched by the guns of the place. The trench was sloped away on the right, so as not to be enfiladed by downward fire from Fort Orleans, which would have commanded it supposing it had been drawn exactly parallel to the front of San Pedro. This was a tremendously advantageous start; seldom has a besieger been able to begin his works at such a short distance from his objective.
Next morning the new trench became visible to the Spaniards, who turned all the artillery of the neighbouring front upon it, but to little effect, for the soil was soft and the French had dug deep. A sortie was made from the demi-lune of El Temple, but was driven off with loss. The only successful effort of the Spaniards on this day was that the guns of Fort Orleans succeeded in destroying part of the trenches of the false attack in front of them, and drove out the workers. This was of little consequence, as Suchet was not really aiming at the fort. On the 22nd and 23rd December the main attack was urged with a celerity that seemed appalling to the defenders; despite of a heavy fire of musketry as well as of artillery, approaches were pushed forward from the first parallel, to within 80 yards of the bastion of San Pedro and 110 yards of the Temple demi-lune. The works opposite Fort Orleans were repaired and extended. On the 24th the two approaches in the plain were connected by a long trench, which formed the second parallel, only 60 yards from the walls. On the 25th new zigzags, thrown out from this line, reached the glacis of San Pedro. The garrison made two sorties in the night to hinder this advance at all hazards, but failed, being driven off by the musketry from the second parallel without much difficulty: the force employed, 300 men, was too small. Meanwhile the artillery and sappers were constructing ten batteries, four—and these the largest—in the main frontal attack, but four others on the heights over against Fort Orleans, and two beyond the river, whose special purpose was to enfilade the front of San Pedro, and also to play upon the bridge of boats which joined the city to the tête-du-pont. The trenches on the heights before Fort Orleans were also strengthened, and a second parallel constructed in front of the first, at some loss of life; but it was necessary to keep the enemy on this front employed, or he would have interfered too much with the real attack in the plain.
All this had been accomplished before the French had fired a single gun; there is hardly another instance to be quoted of a siege in which the assailants got up to the glacis, and crowned the covered way, without any assistance from their artillery. It seems that the gunnery of the defence must have been exceptionally bad, and the sorties hitherto had been small and feeble—quite insufficient to interfere with, much less to destroy, the approaches. Noting batteries sketched out on several points and approaching completion, Yriarte saw that he must at all costs try to delay the opening of the adversary’s fire, and on the night of the 27th-28th made two sallies in considerable force—600 men came out of the Rastro gate, beyond Fort Orleans, to attack the upper trenches, as many more issued from San Pedro against the main attack. The first-named sortie was an entire failure—most of the men lay down and began to skirmish with the trench-guard before they had got near the works; a very few reached them, and were killed on the parapet. But the attack in the plain was a serious one, and pressed home. The lodgement in the covered way was captured and destroyed, and the Spaniards penetrated to the second parallel, and captured part of it for a time. They were finally driven out by a reserve of four battalions commanded by General Abbé, but not before they had done considerable damage. The besiegers had to spend the following day and night (28-29 December) in repairing the trenches and parapets, and getting a fresh lodgement in the covered way. On the morning of the latter day the ten siege-batteries opened simultaneously with 45 guns, and very soon gained a marked superiority over the fire of the defence. The cannon of Fort Orleans and the bastion of San Juan were silenced, as were also those of the Temple demi-lune and San Pedro. The bridge of boats was nearly destroyed. Next night, the Spanish fire being crushed, the third parallel was constructed on the very brink of the ditch of San Pedro, and within 25 yards of the wall of the bastion. The mortar batteries were employed in distributing a rain of projectiles in the streets behind the attacked front, to prevent the besieged from constructing defences and barricades on which they might fall back when the wall was breached. Though not altogether successful—for the Spaniards succeeded in building some traverses and in blocking and loopholing many houses—the bombardment caused many casualties, and cowed the population, who evacuated this quarter and sought refuge in the interior of the town. The interior of Fort Orleans was also shelled with some effect: its garrison retired to their bomb-proofs, and kept very quiet, making little attempt to repair the injuries to its outer wall, or to replace the injured cannon.
On the night of the 30th the French succeeded in getting down from the third parallel into the ditch of San Pedro, with the object of mining the scarp and blowing down sufficient debris to fill the ditch. Their first party was driven out again by the fire of two guns which had been brought up to enfilade the ditch from the extreme flank of the bastion. But on the following morning all the siege-batteries were turned on to these guns, and destroyed them. Meanwhile the Spaniards had abandoned the tête-du-pont, taking the men away by boat, and throwing the guns into the water, except three injured and spiked pieces. The ditch was occupied during the day (December 31st) and the miners got to work, so little incommoded by the fire of the defenders, who were hardly visible on the wall, that they lost only two men killed while establishing themselves in their dangerous position. Their most serious hindrance came from the good quality of the masonry which they were attacking—it was mediaeval work and as hard as iron. The decisive stroke at this point, however, was to be given by the artillery, and on the night of the 31st a battery for four 24-pounders was commenced in the third parallel—only 25 yards away from the ramparts of San Pedro. It had not yet opened when, at ten o’clock on the morning of January 1st, 1811, the governor hoisted the white flag, and sent a Colonel Veyan into Suchet’s camp, to treat for surrender. The proposals, however, were quite inadmissible, as Alacha only covenanted to evacuate Tortosa if it were not relieved in fifteen days, and demanded that the garrison should not be prisoners of war, but should be allowed to march to Tarragona with arms and baggage. Suchet refused to treat (as was natural) but was delighted with the aspect of affairs—a garrison which begins to parley before there is a practicable breach in its walls is obviously demoralized, and needs only a little further persuasion by the strong arm. He sent back with the Spanish parlementaire his own chief of the staff, Colonel Saint Cyr-Nugues, with orders to impress on the governor the futility of further demands such as those he had just made. He announced that he should storm the place next morning unless one of the upper forts were placed in his hands as a pledge of complete submission. The governor therefore called and consulted a council of war: some of the officers and notables assembled voted that an attempt must be made to defend the breach, others that the garrison should retire into the castle and forts, and abandon the town as untenable. But there were some despairing voices raised: the representatives of the municipality spoke with terror of the bombardment of the last few days; some of the officers complained that their troops were completely demoralized, and were leaving their posts to hide in the town. Suchet’s proposals, nevertheless, were rejected.
Only a little more persuasion, however, was required to break down Alacha’s nerve. On the morning of the 2nd of January the 4-gun battery opposite San Pedro opened with the best effect; by the afternoon there was a breach 15 yards broad, and the miners reported that they had got deep enough into the lower walls to make an explosion profitable. The curtain at the back of the Temple demi-lune had also been much battered, and was crumbling—but an assault here was not practicable, as the intervening work was still in the hands of the Spaniards. For a second time the governor hoisted the white flag, but Suchet ordered the fire to continue at the breach, and began to collect his storming columns in the shelter of the parallels, while his mortar batteries played on the town at large. He was afraid that the enemy was scheming for a suspension of arms, during which they would clandestinely repair and retrench the broken wall. The answer that he sent back, when a second parlementaire came out to him, was that he must have a simple and complete capitulation, and that one of the upper forts must be placed in his hands before he would allow the bombardment to cease.
Alacha continued to keep the white flag flying on the citadel and to exchange messages with Suchet, while the fire was still going on at the breach of San Pedro, where Yriarte was doing his best to keep his men together, though he had his doubts as to the result of the threatened assault. Meanwhile the French general took an extraordinary resolution: gathering from the confused and wavering replies of the governor that the old man was at his wit’s end, and ready to yield to pressure, he came to the castle gate himself, with his staff and a company of grenadiers, and sent for the officer on guard—who did not order his men to fire because the white flag was flying, and messengers continually passing to and fro. Suchet told the astonished subaltern that hostilities were at an end, and that he must see the governor without delay. When Alacha came down to him, he assumed a peremptory tone, said that further resistance was criminal, that the assault was about to take place at once, and that the garrison would be put to the sword if resistance continued. He bade the governor ratify on the spot the terms of capitulation which had been sent in upon the previous afternoon. Utterly cowed, the old man obeyed at once, called for a pen, and signed the document upon the carriage of a gun. The company of grenadiers which had accompanied Suchet occupied the castle, and orders were sent down to the city to cease all resistance. The first notice that Yriarte got of what had happened was by hearing French drums beating in the streets behind him, as a column descended from the citadel to force the defenders of the breach to lay down their arms[296]. When they had withdrawn, the storming column ran into the gap, and sacked the quarter adjoining, despite of the cries and remonstrances of their officers. They would not be cheated out of what they considered their lawful prey[297].
In this disgraceful way fell Tortosa, after only eighteen days of siege, twelve of open trenches, and four of bombardment. The French lost no more than 400 men, nearly half of them among the sappers and artillerymen[298], for the infantry only suffered in repelling the sorties. The Spaniards had about 1,400 killed and wounded, but as the garrison marched out only 3,974 strong and had started with 7,179, it is clear that there had been other wastage. During the last days of the siege the Urban Guard disappeared, and the commanders of the regular troops were complaining bitterly of desertion among their men. Indeed, from the governor downwards, there seems to have been too much demoralization in all ranks. The second in command, Yriarte, and many other officers did their duty, but the defence was not what might have been expected from Catalans, with the example of Gerona before their eyes. From the start Suchet had the mastery, and largely owing to the mismanagement of his adversaries; if (for example) they had kept proper watch, he would never have been able to start his first parallel at the distance of only 160 yards from the walls—this piece of luck saved him many days of work. But if the defence was unskilful, and anything rather than resolute, the main responsibility falls on the governor, whose conduct was calculated to discourage even the most zealous subordinates. For he sometimes pleaded his age and infirmity, and declared that he handed over all responsibility to the second in command, shutting himself up in the castle for whole days at a time; but on other occasions he interfered in details, countermanded orders, and practically resumed charge of the defence. But to call a council of war, to receive its opinion in favour of protracted defence, and then to capitulate behind its back was worst of all. Such conduct was absolutely ignominious, and it was not without reason that the Catalan Junta ordered him to be tried (in his absence) for cowardice and treason. He was condemned to death, and the sentence (grotesquely enough) carried out upon his effigy, while he was safe in France, a prisoner on parole.
That nothing was done from outside to save Tortosa was mainly due to the rapidity of Suchet’s operations. The Junta of Catalonia was busily engaged in concerting measures for concentrating a relieving army, had sent to Cadiz for arms and (if possible) reinforcements, and had opened negotiations with the Valencians and with the irregular forces of Carbajal and Villa Campa in the Aragonese mountains. But who could calculate that the defence would last only eighteen days? Before any general scheme had been worked out the place had fallen[299]. The only organized force in the neighbourhood was the section of the Catalan army which lay in and about Tarragona. The responsibility here lay no longer with the active Henry O’Donnell, who had thrown up the command in December, and sailed to the Balearic Islands to give his gangrened wounds time to heal. General Yranzo, as the senior officer in the principality, ought to have taken over the charge of operations; but he called a council of war at Tarragona, and declared himself unwilling to assume the position that had fallen to him. He was unpopular, and the Catalans were holding violent meetings in favour of the Marquis of Campoverde, who enjoyed much local popularity at the moment. This ambitious officer finally obtained the interim command, owing to the abnegation of his seniors; but Tortosa had fallen before he was seated in the saddle, for he was finally recognized as chief only upon January 6th, four days after the capitulation.
But even a capable officer, enjoying undisputed control over all the Catalan forces, could have done little during the few days that the siege of Tortosa lasted. The covering army under Macdonald was too strong to be meddled with by the two divisions based on Tarragona. On the first day of the siege (as we have already seen) he marched from Mora with his 15,000 men: on the 18th he came up to Perello, where meet the two roads from Tortosa to the north, thus absolutely barring any attempt to approach the place. After some days he found it impossible to feed his troops in this rugged spot, and divided them, placing one division of 6,000 men under Frère on the Tarragona-Amposta road, in the direct rear of the besieging army, while with the other two he retired to Ginestar on the Ebro, twenty miles due north of Tortosa, from whence he could reinforce Suchet in a single march if the Spaniards made any movement. But no one came against him: the existence of his army in this quarter sufficed to paralyse the modest force then lying in the neighbourhood of Tarragona. Campoverde took one division to the Fort of Balaguer, covering the coast road, from which he observed Frère at a distance; while Yranzo with the other occupied Macdonald’s old head quarters at Momblanch. But they knew that they were too weak to risk an advance from these points, and while they remained quiet Tortosa fell. The only diversions carried out during the siege were in corners of Catalonia, where even a considerable success would have had no effect on the course of affairs on the lower Ebro. A French foraging party of 650 cavalry was cut up at Tarrega, near Lerida, on January 1, by a detachment from Momblanch. On December 25, a landing party from the British frigates on the Catalan station surprised the post of Palamos, and destroyed there two gunboats and eight transports which were coasting down from Cette towards Barcelona. But remaining on shore too long they were surprised by a French flying column, and driven back to their boats with a loss of over 200 men, including Captain Fane of the Cambrian, the officer in command.
On the news of the fall of Tortosa the Spanish divisions drew back towards Tarragona. Suchet left General Habert in charge of the captured city, dispersed Musnier’s troops to Morella, Alcañiz and Mequinenza, and left the Neapolitan brigade lent him by Macdonald at Mora. Harispe’s division escorted the Spanish prisoners to Saragossa, and was accompanied by Suchet himself, who had much to settle in Aragon before he took in hand the siege of Tarragona, the next task imposed upon him by the Emperor, who had informed him that ‘he would find his Marshal’s bâton within its walls’. Before leaving the neighbourhood of Tortosa Suchet ordered four battalions of Habert’s division to execute a coup de main upon the little fort of San Felipe de Balaguer, on the coast defile of the Col de Balaguer so often mentioned of late. It was completely successful—after a short bombardment, part of the garrison escaped along the Tarragona road; the governor with ninety men surrendered [January 8, 1811]. The fort was a trifling work, but its strategic position was eminently important, as it blocks the only road along the sea from Tarragona to the regions of the Ebro mouth.
Macdonald, being no longer needed in the direction of Tortosa, resolved to return to Lerida, at the same time that Suchet went off to Saragossa. They were to meet again in the spring for the great enterprise against Tarragona. For reasons not easy to fathom, the Marshal made his march to his base not by the direct road, but past Tarragona via Reus and Valls. Probably he was desirous of clearing the country-side of the outlying Spanish troops as a preliminary to the siege, and perhaps he had some idea of destroying any magazines that might lie in this direction. That he could have no serious intention of blockading Tarragona was shown by the fact that he had sent back all his cavalry, save one regiment, and most of his guns, to Lerida. Since he had also lent his Neapolitan brigade to Suchet, his column was not much over 12,000 strong.
Macdonald was usually unlucky in his Catalonian campaigning; though he had won great reputation in mountain warfare against the Austrians in his early days, he does not seem to have been able to apply his knowledge of it to Spain. Marching from Ginestar by Falset, he reached and occupied the large town of Reus, only ten miles from Tarragona, on January 12th. From thence he set his army in motion for Valls on the 15th, marching across the front of the fortress, with which he clearly had no intention of interfering. His vanguard was formed by the Italian division, which was followed at a distance of three miles by his three French brigades and his single regiment of cavalry. Meanwhile Campoverde, now in command at Tarragona, had detached General Sarsfield with a division of 3,000 foot and 800 horse—all that the Army of Catalonia possessed—to observe the march of the French, while he himself remained just outside Tarragona with the remainder of his troops—some 8,000 men. Sarsfield had taken post at Pla, some five miles north of Valls, which town he had evacuated on the approach of the enemy. When Macdonald’s leading brigade reached Valls, information was received that there was a Spanish force close in its front. Without waiting for orders from the Marshal, who had merely directed that Valls should be occupied, the commander of the vanguard, General Eugenio[300], resolved to bring the enemy to action. Marching with five Italian battalions and only thirty chasseurs—about 2,500 men in all—he ran headlong into Sarsfield’s forces drawn up in a well-masked position, the infantry occupying a ridge, the 800 cavalry hidden in a wood to the left. Unable to estimate the enemy’s strength, and thinking that a brisk attack might drive them off the ground, Eugenio—a man of reckless courage—made a direct frontal charge against the enemy’s position in column of battalions. He was completely beaten, his brigade fell back still fighting, and he was himself mortally wounded. The recoiling mass was saved from annihilation by the arrival on the field of the other Italian brigade, that of Palombini, on which it rallied. But Sarsfield’s troops were determined to finish appropriately the day that they had begun so well. They fell on the newly formed line and broke it, the cavalry turning Palombini’s right and sweeping it away. The whole Italian division would have been annihilated but for the arrival of two squadrons of the 24th Dragoons under Colonel Delort, who charged the victorious cavalry, and, though hopelessly outnumbered, gave the Spaniards so much trouble that the routed infantry of Eugenio and Palombini escaped into Valls, without much further loss. Macdonald had refrained from bringing up the French brigades to help his vanguard, because he had discovered a column under Campoverde coming out of Tarragona to threaten his rear. This demonstration kept him occupied while the Italians were being cut up by Sarsfield, whose operations were extremely well managed and resolute. The Italian division and the dragoons lost 600 men including a few prisoners[301]—the Spaniards only 160.
Next day (January 16th) Macdonald was in order of battle at Valls, with two fronts, one facing towards Sarsfield and the north, the other towards Campoverde and Tarragona. But the Spaniards wisely refused to commit themselves to a general engagement, and Macdonald would not divide his army by marching to assail one or the other of the two hostile columns. In the night he retreated to Momblanch by a forced march, leaving the enemy encouraged by the results of the combat of the 15th, and no less by the fact that the Marshal had not tried to avenge his check by an attack on the following day. The French retired to Lerida unmolested, and the Duke of Tarentum began to make preparations for his approaching return to Tarragona in company with Suchet’s corps, as had been ordered by the Emperor. It is difficult to see that Macdonald gained anything by his curious flank march, and he certainly lost heavily in prestige. Campoverde, exultant at the good fortune of his first venture in arms, recovered from the despondency caused by the fall of Tortosa, and dreamed of making a great blow against the French by no less an achievement than the recapture of Barcelona.
Ever since the commencement of the war plots and conspiracies had been rife in that great city—it will be remembered that Duhesme had been forced to punish the most important of them by a series of executions[302]. Discontent was as keen as ever, and a knot of patriots had formed a scheme for opening to their friends without the gates of the fortress of Monjuich, which dominates the whole place. This was to be done by the assistance of a repentant ‘Juramentado,’ a Spanish commissary in the French service named Alcina, who had access to the stronghold, and imagined that he had corrupted the fort-major, a certain Captain Sunier, who for a great sum of money undertook to leave one of its posterns open on the night of March 19th. Campoverde, who loved plots and intrigues, arranged to have his men ready outside the ditch on the appointed night. Unfortunately the officer who was supposed to be a traitor was only feigning discontent and treason, and kept informing Maurice Mathieu, the governor of Barcelona, of all the details of the plot. It was allowed to proceed, in order that a sharp blow might be inflicted on the Spaniards. Before the appointed night Campoverde suddenly marched the divisions of Sarsfield and Courten to the immediate vicinity of Barcelona, and sent forward from them a body of 800 grenadiers, who were to execute the actual coup de main. They were allowed to descend into the ditch of Monjuich, and to approach the postern, when the whole of the ramparts were lighted up with cressets and fire-balls, and a furious fire was opened upon them. The head of the column was blown to pieces, a hundred men were killed and wounded at the first volley, and four officers and many of the rank and file taken prisoners, before the remainder could scramble off in the darkness. The supports hurriedly retired, and the business was over—save that Maurice Mathieu caused the commissary Alcina to be shot in public next morning as a warning to traitors. Such plots seldom succeed, but that they must not be too much disregarded as a source of danger was shown only a few weeks later, when Figueras, the second fortress of Catalonia, was successfully surprised by the Spaniards, as the result of a conspiracy exactly similar to that which failed at Barcelona[303].
The unfortunate affair at Monjuich was not the only sign of the revived activity of the Catalans under the leadership of Campoverde, a busy and active man, but (as subsequent events showed) one lacking both resolution and true strategic instinct. He was one of those who take many schemes in hand, but fail for want of determination at the critical moment, and was a very poor substitute for that hard fighter Henry O’Donnell, whose place he had been so eager to seize. On March 3rd he made a vain attack to recover the fort of San Felipe de Balaguer—marching with Courten’s division of 4,000 men he beat the French 117th out of Perello, where it was covering Tortosa, and laid siege to the fort. But General Habert came up with a force from the garrison to reinforce the 117th, and the attack had to be given up almost as soon as it was begun. More fruitful were some attacks of the somatenes of northern Catalonia on convoys passing between Gerona and Hostalrich. And Sarsfield, pushing forward to Cervera, usefully restrained the foraging of Macdonald’s cavalry in the region east of Lerida. But all this came to little, and Campoverde’s efforts seemed to have no very visible results, and certainly did nothing decisive to prevent Suchet and Macdonald from completing their preparations for the siege of Tarragona.
It was much the same in Aragon, where Villacampa and Carbajal were contending in the mountains of the south with the garrisons which held Daroca, Alcañiz, Teruel, and the other chief towns of this rugged and thinly peopled district. The fall of Tortosa had set free for the moment many troops of the 3rd Corps, and Suchet employed them in scouring the country between these posts, and endeavouring to clear away the partidas from their chief rallying-places. Flying columns under Generals Paris and Abbé marched up and down the sierras in the vile weather of February, expelled the insurrectionary Junta of Aragon from Cuenca, which was at that time its head quarters, and chased Carbajal to Moya, where the frontiers of Castile, Aragon, and Valencia meet. The Empecinado came over the mountains, from his usual beat in the Guadalajara country, to help the Aragonese, but had small success. Yet the net result of all this hunting was little. ‘This expedition,’ says Suchet himself, ‘which took two brigades over the border into Castile for twelve days, procured us a few hundred prisoners; a more useful thing was the destruction of some small manufactures of arms. But we were to see ten times, nay a hundred times more, these partisans appearing once again in the plains; they always surrounded us, were always dispersed rather than defeated, and never grew discouraged[304].’