PASSAGE OF THE DOURO.
First movements of the Allies.—Affairs with French cavalry and rear-guard.—Passage of the Douro.—Soult’s disorderly retreat.—French suffer heavily.—Wellesley moves to the south, and communicates with Cuesta.—Combined movement planned.—Cuesta’s imbecility mars it.—Victor escapes.
From the moment Sir Arthur Wellesley landed in Portugal, the character of the war had changed; and, notwithstanding the numerous and discouraging drawbacks upon a bold career which the obstinacy of the Spaniards and the deficiency of his own means were continually presenting, before the masterly decision of the British general, all obstacles ultimately gave way; and victory, which had hovered doubtfully over many a hard-contested field, at last rested on his banners, and wreathed her laurels round his brows.
Never had a triumphant campaign a bolder or more brilliant opening. On the 7th of May, the cavalry brigade, under General Cotton, marched on the Oporto road, followed by the remainder of the army in three divisions; those of generals Paget and Payne moving towards Vouga; and the third, under General Hill, advancing on Aveira. The movements were slowly executed, to allow Marshal Beresford time to reach his destination, and seize the bridge of Amarante, before a British force should display itself in front of Oporto.
These plans of Sir Arthur Wellesley were ably effected by the officers in command. While Beresford was marching with all expedition on the Upper Douro, Hill, on the night of the 9th, passed a brigade in fishing-boats across the lake, and at dawn of day landed it safely at Ovar, turning the right flank of the French; while Beresford, having joined Wilson, drove Loison’s corps to Amarante, and turned their left. Sir Arthur hoped to have taken Franchesci, who commanded the French cavalry division at Abegeria Nova, by surprise; but a country difficult to traverse, and accidental delays in transporting the guns through the pass of Vouga, prolonged the march. When the cavalry, under Cotton, came in sight of the enemy in the morning, they found him perfectly prepared, and in an excellent position—his cavalry in line upon a level plain—their flank resting on a pine wood occupied by a body of tirailleurs. General Cotton halted and formed in their front—and in this attitude, Sir Arthur found the French and his own advanced guard.
The infantry having now arrived, the wood was cleared of its sharpshooters, and dispositions made for bringing the cavalry to action; but Franchesci, though quickly pursued, succeeded in retreating—abandoning the position to the British, and by a night march uniting himself to Mermet, whom he joined at Grijon.
Here, Sir Arthur found them on the 11th, posted strongly on some high grounds behind the village, and to all appearance, determined to hold them. In a rapid survey of the position, the British general perceived that the left could be turned; and although the column never halted, the necessary manœuvres were effected by detaching General Murray on the right from the rear of the advanced guard, and throwing a Portuguese regiment into a pine wood on the left, to amuse the attention of the enemy, while General Paget threatened them in front. For a short time a heavy firing was maintained, but, on the flank movement being discovered, the French instantly abandoned the position and retreated. The British were as promptly thrown into column again, and the march resumed, as if nothing had happened, and every movement had been that of a field-day.
A brilliant cavalry affair succeeded. On topping the heights from which the French had been forced, their rear was seen retiring in confusion, and General Stuart volunteered to charge with a few troops of hussars that were fortunately at hand. The attack was made in sections. The British cavalry galloped down the road, overturned all that opposed them, and made above one hundred prisoners. Nothing could check their daring gallantry, until the French infantry were halted on a height commanding the road. Although unable to face the fire of a force so posted as those were who held Carvalhos, the squadrons wheeled boldly to the right, and threatened the left of the enemy. Dreading lest they should be overtaken and outflanked, the French instantly gave up the hill, and continued retiring rapidly.
The march commenced at nine in the morning—and at five the troops halted for the night, having had their advanced guard almost constantly engaged. This, however, never checked the movement of the columns, and the division occupied the ground the French had left—Sir Arthur supping in the convent of Grijon with his staff. It must have been indeed a busy day with the religieux—for four generals, Delaborde, Thomieres, Mermet, and Franchesci, had favoured them with their company at breakfast.
All went on favourably; Hill had landed at Ovar—Cameron came up—and both were in communication. Though holding better ground, the enemy had in every attack been driven back. Yet they had fought gallantly, and it was encouraging to British soldiers to find that they had fairly met the best troops in Europe, and as fairly beaten them.
Next morning the march was renewed. Soult avoided any collision, retreated over the Douro, destroyed the bridge, and carried every boat that could swim to the other bank, and there effectually secured them.
This was a critical moment—and in a more dangerous position a British general never found himself. A broad and rapid river separated the allies from the enemy, and no means of passing it could be discovered. Soult might retire unmolested into Gallicia if he pleased, or attack Beresford singly, overpower him by superior force, and enter Beira. Danger often stimulates bravery to startling but successful enterprises; and in this emergency Wellesley decided on as bold an effort as modern warfare parallels,—the crossing of the Douro.
It was, indeed, a daring and a perilous attempt; a strong force was on the other bank; the shores were steep and rocky, and the stream three hundred yards across. Every means had been taken by Soult to make the passage impracticable. His generals of brigade were in observation on the banks; every point of passage was defended; while the marshal satisfied himself that the bridge was utterly destroyed, as he watched from midnight till daybreak the burning pontoons as they went floating down the current. The only practicable plan that seemed left for Sir Arthur to adopt was to employ the shipping, and land his troops at the débouchement of the Douro; and, in that belief, the French general retired to his head-quarters, from which he could observe the sea—and, as he expected, watch the disembarkation.
Wellesley, aware how dangerously Marshal Beresford was situated, had determined at every hazard to cross the river, and arrangements were instantly made. General Murray was despatched to Avintes to try the ford, and if boats could be found, to send them down the stream,—the Guards, under General Sherbrooke, were detached to attempt the ferry below the town;—while, from the convent of Santo Agostinho, the British commander directed the main operations in person. A spot was marked on the opposite shore as a favourable place for landing. It was an unfinished building near the bank, and there, the troops first passed over were directed to establish themselves until assistance reached them. To cover this landing-place some guns were quietly got into battery in the convent garden. Every preparation was made—and a fortunate accident obtained the means of passage.
A small skiff was discovered hidden in some high rushes, that had concealed it from the French. A few peasants and a Portuguese colonel crossed over, and found some three or four crazy barges, half buried in the mud. These prizes were instantly secured. Three companies of the Buffs jumped in, accompanied by General Paget. The opposite bank was gained,—the dismantled building garrisoned,—and the barges were returning for a fresh detachment, before the French seemed aware of the attempt, and—as it turned out—when it was too late to repel it.
The enemy came down in force, but the Buffs held the building they occupied against overwhelming odds. General Paget was wounded—but fresh companies were ferried over, and General Hill took charge of the troops. The French came on in columns, but the batteries from the Serra convent annoyed them with a plunging fire, while the troops from the building kept up a well-directed fusilade. Murray, who had found little difficulty, and succeeded in passing his division by the ford, now appeared moving rapidly on the left flank of the French—while Sherbrooke, having obtained some boats, was ferrying the Guards over below the town. Finding himself likely to be turned on either side, Soult hastily retreated by the Amarante road, boldly followed by the British cavalry, who charged repeatedly with most brilliant success. Evening ended the pursuit—the brigades occupied the city in every place—they were cheered by loud vivas, and most affectionately received by the inhabitants.
The crossing of the Douro was, in military estimation, as bold and well-arranged an operation as any that marked Wellesley’s Peninsular career. The passage of a river in the face of an enemy with every assistance from pontoons and ferryage, is considered a hazardous undertaking; but, circumstanced as the British commander was, the thing was generally set down as impracticable, and Soult was unprepared for the attempt. When the news was brought that the enemy was crossing at Villa Nova, the marshal ridiculed the notion, and remained in his quarters until two in the afternoon. He was then obliged precipitately to quit the city; and so suddenly were Wellesley’s measures executed, that the dinner prepared for the duke of Dalmatia, was served up to the British general and his staff. War is, certes, a game of chances;—and little did the French marshal suppose, when at noon he regulated the carte presented by his maître d’hôtel, that he was then civilly arranging an excellent repast for his opponent. Yet such was the case. Wellesley succeeded Soult—and within a few hours the same roof covered the victor and the vanquished.
Nothing could exceed the irregularity of the French retreat. Before they could be persuaded that the passage of the Douro was seriously designed, the British were charging through the suburbs; and instead of retiring with an orderly formation on the advance of the enemy, the French rear-guard got mobbed together on the road, and allowed an opportunity to the cavalry of their pursuers to act with an audacity and success that the weakness of their squadrons could never have warranted, had not a considerable panic been previously occasioned, by the precipitation with which Soult’s divisions were hurried from the city. Night came most opportunely, and ended the pursuit,—enabling the French marshal to unite himself with Loison, from whom he received the unwelcome intelligence that the bridge of Amarante was destroyed. Soult’s situation was almost desperate; his only line of retreat was by a mountain track; and, by taking it, he was obliged to cross the pass of Ruivans, a long narrow bridge, without a parapet on either side, spanning a frightful precipice. Should this be occupied,—and no doubt Beresford was marching thither,—nothing could save his army. With excellent judgment, he abandoned his artillery and baggage, pushed rapidly forward, and, having forced the Portuguese pickets which here and there occupied the mountain passes, he out-marched Silviera by several hours, and halted his rear-guard at Salamonde, to cover the bridges of Saltador and Porto Nova, while his columns were defiling.
Here, however, he was overtaken and brought to action, on the 16th, by Sir Arthur. Although the position was strong, and the brigade of Guards were the only infantry come up, the British general instantly made his dispositions for attack. The left was turned by the rifle corps—the Guards advancing boldly in front. After delivering a volley at the head of the column when it shewed itself, the French precipitately fled—and, hurrying through the village in their rear, succeeded, under cover of the darkness, in escaping. Some delay in clearing a defile, allowed the horse artillery to come up—and their rapid fire did considerable execution before the crowd of fugitives could get beyond its range.
The next morning’s dawn renewed the pursuit; and every turn of the road, cumbered with broken vehicles and deserted baggage, shewed how severely the French army had been pressed. The bridge was nearly impassable from dead men and slain horses laid there in heaps by the grape and canister of the British guns. Arms, accoutrements, ham-strung mules, guns, tumbrils, knapsacks filled with silver plate, tapestry, and other valuable plunder, were strewn indiscriminately along the line. To add to this scene of waste and suffering, the villages the advancing army entered were either in a blaze, or already reduced to ashes; for between the French troops and peasantry a deadly war of extermination was being carried on—and on both sides, deeds of cruelty were every day perpetrated, that can hardly be credited or described. Indeed, the French retreat through the Gallician mountains was only paralleled by the British on Corunna; with this exception, that many a straggler from the British columns was saved by the humanity of the Spaniards, while the unhappy Frenchman who lagged but a few hundred yards behind the rear-guard, was butchered by the infuriated peasantry, bent on the work of slaughter and burning for vengeance on an enemy, who, in his day of conquest and dominion, had taught the lesson of cruelty now practised so unrelentingly on himself.
Soult turning from Montalegre towards Orense, and a French corps from Estremadura having moved on Alcantara, induced Sir Arthur Wellesley to discontinue the pursuit. The French marshal crossed the frontier on the 18th with barely nineteen thousand men—his guns, stores, and baggage abandoned to the conquerors. Ten weeks, perfect in every arm, that army had passed through Orense on its march to Oporto, mustering twenty-six thousand veteran soldiers. A short period had wrought a fearful change—and even the débris of that once splendid corps was only extricated from total destruction by the admirable tact and unbending hardiesse of their brave and gifted leader.
It was indeed full time for the British leader to move southward. Victor, joined by the division of Lapisse, had, after a splendid resistance from a Portuguese corps under Colonel Mayne, forced the passage of the Tagus at Alcantara, and threatened Lisbon. After a few forward movements, learning that Soult was retreating, Victor fell back himself to Merida, detached a division to observe the bridge of Almarez, and fixed his head-quarters at Torremocha.
By easy marches, Sir Arthur reached the Douro on the 7th. His army was in a bad condition, suffering alike from their past fatigues in Gallicia, and a total want of every necessary and comfort. The country was unable to supply him, and he had no means to procure by land or water carriage, assistance from his own commissariate. The hospitals were crowded—officers and men were without pay, provisions, or even shoes. Still, though disappointed in remittances, and unable to support his army with any regard to their comforts, the troops had the most implicit confidence in their leader, and very justly ascribed the privations they endured to causes over which their general had no control. The spirit of the army was still unbroken—and much as its physical strength might have deteriorated since it marched from Coimbra to attack Soult, its gallantry was undiminished, and its desire to meet the enemy as ardent as it had been ever.
Spanish affairs, considered generally, had also assumed a more favourable appearance; and although the French force in Spain was still immense, there being within the Pyrenees one hundred and fifty thousand men, the reverses Napoleon had encountered at Wagram, and the threatening aspect of affairs in Germany, precluded any chance that his lieutenants on the Peninsula would be further reinforced. Hence a spirit of reaction was encouraged in the Spaniards, accompanied by a reasonable prospect of success.
On reaching Abrantes on the 7th, it was correctly ascertained that, instead of retiring on Madrid, Victor was concentrating at Merida, intending, probably, to cross the Guadiana, and attack Cuesta before the British could come to his assistance. Propositions therefore for a combined movement were made by Sir Arthur Wellesley to the “Spanish general,” and willingly acceded to—and the British moved forward to the Teitar, to unite, as it was believed, in an operation upon Madrid.
A most able plan for marching at once for the recovery of the capital was arranged at a conference between the allied commanders.[85] The British and Spanish armies, taking the right bank of the Tagus, were to advance directly forward. Venegas, with fourteen thousand Spaniards, was to threaten Aranjuez, and, if possible, take possession of Toledo; while two other Spanish divisions should hold the passes of Banos and Perales; and five thousand Portuguese, under Sir Robert Wilson, were to act independently, and annoy the French flanks and rear as they best could.
The British consequently moved by Salvatiera and Placentia, effecting a junction with Cuesta at Oropesa on the 20th of July. On the 22nd Victor had retired and taken a position on the Alberche. The opportunity was at once given for attacking him, but Cuesta obstinately declined; and Victor, hearing that Wilson was already in his rear at Escalona, made a night march on Torrijos.
Cuesta was a singular medley of opposite qualities. He was exceedingly brave—had some daring—overweening pride—and a most asinine obstinacy. Finding it desirable for the prosperity of the common cause to submit to the old man’s folly, Sir Arthur Wellesley acted with singular forbearance. It had been arranged that Victor should be attacked on the 23rd—and when the British general reached his confederate’s quarters to arrange the necessary details on the evening of the 22nd, Cuesta was asleep, and no one dared to waken him. At dawn, the British divisions were under arms, but Cuesta could not be disturbed till seven! At last an interview did take place—and then the weak old man positively declined to fight, because the day was Sunday. Victor had but twenty thousand men with him at the moment. The Alberche was fordable—the right and centre assailable: Cuesta’s army numbered forty-seven thousand, and Wellesley’s about twenty-one. Was ever such an opportunity lost?—and all, too, through the stupid bigotry of a sleepy-headed Spaniard.[86]
Meanwhile the great scarcity of provisions obliged the British to halt for a day or two, and Wellesley, to obtain supplies, took a position behind the Alberche.