FALL OF BADAJOZ—TO THE BATTLE OF BAROSA.
Badajoz invested.—Death of Menacho.—Fall of the city.—French movements.—Affair at Campo Mayor.—Position of Beresford.—Expedition under Graham.—Battle of Barosa.
Badajoz had received an addition to its garrison from some Spanish troops who had escaped the slaughter at Gevora. The fortress was in excellent condition for defence, plentifully supplied with ammunition, and with abundant provisions for its defenders. All, of course, was in favour of its holding out; and Raphael Menacho, an officer of distinguished gallantry, had been appointed governor.
The French broke ground without loss of time, and sate down before the place; while the garrison exhibited the best spirit, and by their bold and frequent sallies, occasioned the greatest annoyance to the besiegers. Menacho retrenched the streets, and made necessary preparations for a stubborn defence, which equally evinced his ability as an officer and determination as a man.
On the 2nd of March, the French having pushed their approaches to the covered-way, to enable them to blow down the counterscarp,[130] the Spanish governor determined on a sally. It was bravely executed, and Menacho, in person, led the sortie. The batteries near the counterscarp were destroyed, the guns spiked, and the works ruined. But, alas! this success was dearly purchased, for the brave veteran was killed in the mêlée.
His successor, a dastardly and treacherous villain, obeyed the first summons—and having secured liberty for himself, at once surrendered the fortress. To mark probably, their own sense of the dishonour this base act of cowardice had entailed upon the garrison, the Spanish workmen were obliged by the French to enlarge the breach, in order to admit the grenadiers to pass through it.
Soult, after the fall of Badajoz, returned to Seville; Mortier marched upon Campo Mayor; and Latour Maubourg occupied Albuquerque and Alcantara with the cavalry. Though but a weak place, and mounted with a few guns, Campo Mayor was bravely defended by a Portuguese officer named Tallia—and only surrendered to the French when a longer resistance was neither prudent nor practicable.
Beresford had received directions from Lord Wellington to reduce Badajoz, and relieve Campo Mayor. On the 26th, his advanced guard, consisting of a strong corps of infantry and two thousand British and Portuguese dragoons, appeared before Campo Mayor as the French were in the very act of retiring from the place, and removing their siege artillery under the protection of a large body of cavalry and field guns. Colborne marched with the infantry on the right—Head, with the 13th light dragoons, and two squadrons of Portuguese, on the left—and the heavy cavalry formed a reserve. Perceiving that their battering train was endangered, the French cavalry, as the ground over which they were retiring was favourable for the movement, charged the 13th. But they were vigorously repulsed; and, failing in breaking the British, the whole, consisting of four regiments, drew up in front, forming an imposing line. The 13th instantly formed and galloped forward—and nothing could have been more splendid than their charge. They rode fairly through the French,—overtook and cut down many of the gunners, and at last entirely headed the line of march, keeping up a fierce and straggling encounter with the broken horsemen of the enemy, until some of the English dragoons actually reached the gates of Badajoz, where a few of them were captured.[131]
It was a subject of regret that this dashing exploit of the light cavalry did not receive the support it merited. Had the heavy dragoons been vigorously pushed forward, the detachment and their guns must have been necessarily cut off. In the affair, the French lost nearly three hundred men, including a colonel of dragoons—and a howitzer was secured by the British.
Marshal Beresford continued his operations, and made preparations for the investment of Badajoz; Olivenza was reduced; the French nearly expelled from Estremadura; and in a cavalry affair at Santos Maimona, the enemy were charged and broken, with a considerable loss in killed and wounded, and nearly one hundred prisoners.
On the 21st, Lord Wellington arrived—and on the 22nd he passed the Caya with a strong corps of German and Portuguese cavalry, and made a reconnaissance of Badajoz. The governor showed him his garrison,—for, to save a convoy that was approaching, he marched all his disposable troops from the town.
To Marshal Beresford a trust of serious responsibility was confided. He had Badajoz to occupy him on one hand, with every reason to expect that Soult would advance, and raise the siege if possible—and under these circumstances, a battle might be anticipated. The marshal was also authorized by Lord Wellington, in the event of his being able to engage the French on fair terms, to accept battle at Albuera.
Another action, by a British general of division, occurred, arising from the attempt of an Anglo-Spanish army to raise the siege of Cadiz. All bade fair for success, as the French had scarcely ten thousand men in their lines, while in the city and Isle de Leon, the Spanish force was more than twenty thousand. On this occasion, Graham acted under the command of La Pena,—and eleven thousand allied troops were despatched from Cadiz to Tarifa, to operate against the enemy’s rear at Chiclana; while it was arranged that Zayas, who commanded in the Isle de Leon, should pass his troops over San Petri near the sea, and unite in a combined attack.
After much delay, occasioned by tempestuous weather, the troops and artillery were safely assembled at Tarifa on the 27th; and when joined by the 28th regiment and the flank companies of the 9th and 82nd, they numbered about four thousand five hundred effective men.
General La Pena arrived the same day with seven thousand Spaniards; and on the next, the united force moved through the passes of the Ronda hills, and halted within four leagues of the French outposts. The commands of the allies were thus distributed,—the vanguard to Lardizable, the centre to the Prince of Anglona, the reserve to General Graham, and the cavalry to Colonel Whittingham. Victor, though apprized of the activity of the Spaniards, and the march of General Graham, could not correctly ascertain the point upon which their intended operations would be directed; and therefore, with eleven thousand choice troops, he took post in observation between the roads of Conil and Medina.
On the 2nd, the capture of Casa Viejas, increased La Pena’s force by sixteen hundred infantry, and a number of guerilla horse. Until the 5th, he continued his movements—and, after his advanced guard had been roughly handled by a squadron of French dragoons, he halted on the Cerro de Puerco—more generally and gloriously known as the heights of Barosa.
Barosa, though not a high hill, rises considerably above the rugged plain it overlooks, and stands four miles inland from the débouchement of the Santi Petri. The plain is bounded on the right by the forest of Chiclana, on the left by cliffs on the sea-beach, and on the centre by a pine wood, beyond which the hill of Bermeja rises.
The irregularity and tardiness of the Spanish movements gave a portentous warning of what might be expected from them in the field. They occupied fifteen hours in executing a moderate march, passing over the ground in a rambling and disorderly manner, that seemed rather like peasants wandering from a fair, than troops moving in the presence of an enemy. La Pena, without waiting to correct his broken ranks, sent on a vanguard to Zayas; while his rear, entirely separated from the centre, was still straggling over the country,—and contrary to the expressed wishes of Graham, who implored him to hold Barosa, he declined his advice, and ordered the British to march through the pine wood on Bermeja. Graham, supposing that Anglona’s division and the cavalry would continue to occupy the hill, leaving the flank companies of the 9th and 82nd to protect his baggage, obeyed the order, and commenced his march. But the astonishment of the English general was unbounded, when, on entering the wood, he saw La Pena moving his entire corps from the heights of Barosa, with the exception of three or four battalions and as many pieces of artillery.
Unfortunately, the English General was not the only person who had observed that Barosa was abandoned. Victor, concealed in the forest of Chiclana, anxiously watched the movements of the allies. He saw the fatal error committed by the Spanish leader—and instantly made dispositions to profit from the ignorance and obstinacy of his antagonist.
The French Marshal, having selected three grenadier battalions as reserves, strengthened his left wing with two, and three squadrons of cavalry, while the other was attached to his centre. Ruffin commanded the left, Laval the centre; while Villatte, with two thousand five hundred infantry, covered the camp, and watched the Spaniards at Santa Petri and Bermeja. The cavalry, stationed at Medina and Arcos, were ordered by Victor to move on Vejer and cut off the allies—for on their certain defeat the French General entertained no doubt.
The time was admirably chosen for a decisive movement. The British corps were defiling through the wood—the strength of the Spaniards posted on the Bermeja—another division pursued a straggling march on Vejer—and a fourth, in great confusion, was at Barosa, as a protection to the baggage. Making Villatte’s division a pivot, Victor pushed Laval at once against the British,—and ascending the back of the hill with Ruffin’s brigade, he threw himself between the Spaniards and Medina, dispersed the camp followers in an instant, and captured the guns and baggage.
Graham, when apprised of this sudden and unexpected movement, countermarched directly on the plain, to co-operate, as he believed, with La Pena, whom he calculated on finding on the heights—but never was reliance placed by a brave soldier on a more worthless ally. The Spaniard had deceived him—himself was gone—his mob-soldiery were fugitives—Ruffin on the heights—the French cavalry between him and the sea—and Laval close on the left flank of the British.
It was indeed a most perilous situation—and in that extremity, the brave old man to whom the British had been fortunately confided, proved himself worthy of the trust. He saw the ruin of retreat,—safety lay in daring—and though the enemy held the key of the position with fresh troops, Graham boldly determined to attack them with his wearied ones.
The battle was instantly commenced. Duncan’s artillery opened a furious cannonade on the column of Laval; and Colonel Barnard, with the rifles and Portuguese Caçadores, extended to the left and began firing. The rest of the British troops formed two masses, without regard to regiments or brigades; one, under General Dilkes, marched direct against Ruffin,—and the other under Colonel Whately, boldly attacked Laval. On both sides the guns poured a torrent of grape and canister over the field; the infantry kept up a withering fire; and both sides advanced, for both seemed anxious to bring the contest to an issue. Whately, when the lines approached, came forward to the charge—he drove the first line on the second, and routed both with slaughter.
Brown had marched at once on Ruffin, and though half his small number had been annihilated by an overwhelming fire, he held his ground till Dilkes came to his assistance. Never pausing to correct their formation, which the rugged hill had considerably disorganized, on came the British desperately—they were still struggling to attain the summit—and approaching the ridge, breathless and disordered, their opponents advanced to meet them. A furious combat, hand to hand ensued—for a moment victory seemed doubtful—but the British fought with a ferocity that nothing could oppose. Whole sections went down, but still the others pressed forward. Ruffin and Rousseau, who commanded the élite of the grenadiers, fell mortally wounded. The British never paused—on they went, delivering volley after volley—forcing the French over the heights, and defeating them with the loss of their guns.
The divisions of Victor, though dreadfully cut up, fell back on each other for mutual support, and endeavoured to rally—but Duncan’s guns were moved forward, and opened a close and murderous fire that prevented a possibility of reforming. Nothing could save the shattered battalions from that exterminating cannonade but an instant retreat—and Victor retired, leaving the British in undisputed possession of the field, from which want of food and continued fatigue, while under arms for four-and-twenty hours, of course prevented them from moving in pursuit.
Never was there a shorter, and never a bloodier conflict. Though it lasted scarcely an hour and a quarter, out of the handful of British troops engaged, a loss was sustained of fifty officers, sixty sergeants, and eleven hundred rank and file. The French, besides two thousand killed and wounded, lost six guns, an eagle, and two generals, with nearly five hundred prisoners.
Nothing could exceed the dastardly duplicity with which the Spanish general abandoned his gallant ally. La Pena never made a movement towards the succour of the British—and although the French cavalry scarcely exceeded two hundred men, and the Spanish, under Whittingham, amounted to more than six, the latter never drew a sabre. Never was there a finer field for cavalry to act upon with effect—Ruffin’s left was perfectly open—and even a demonstration of attack must have turned defeat to ruin. Three troops of German hussars, under Ponsonby, reached the field at the close of the battle, just as the beaten divisions were attempting to unite. They charged through the French squadrons, overthrew them, captured two guns, and sabred many of Ruffin’s grenadiers, while endeavouring to regain their ranks.
To paint the character of Barosa in a few words, Napier’s will best describe it. “The contemptible feebleness of La Pena furnished a surprising contrast to the heroic vigour of Graham,[132] whose attack was an inspiration rather than a resolution—so wise, so sudden was the decision, so swift, so conclusive was the execution.”