The beautiful village of Fuentes d’Onoro was now destined to suffer. It had escaped all injury during the previous warfare, though occupied alternately for above a year by both sides. Every family in it was known to our division; and it was therefore a subject of deep regret to find that the preceding troops had pillaged it, leaving only the shells of houses where, three days before, a friendly population had been living in comfort. This wanton act was so warmly felt by the whole army, that eight thousand dollars were afterwards collected by general subscription for the poor inhabitants; yet the injury sank deeper than the remedy. The allies occupied a fine table land, lying between the Turones and the Dos Casos; the left at Fort Conception, the centre towards the village of Alameda, the right at Fuentes d’Onoro, the whole distance being five miles. The first and third divisions were concentrated on a gentle declivity, about a cannon-shot behind Fuentes d’Onoro, where the line of ground occupied by the army turned back, and ended on the Turones. The French came up in three columns abreast. General Loison fell upon Fuentes d’Onoro, which was occupied by five battalions of chosen troops. Most of the houses in this village were at the bottom of the ravine; but an old chapel and some buildings on a craggy eminence overhung one end. The low parts were vigorously defended; yet the violence of the attack was so great, and the cannonade so heavy, that the British abandoned the streets, and could scarcely maintain the upper ground; and the fight was becoming perilous, when three fresh regiments, coming down from the main position, charged with so little ceremony, that the French were forced back, and, after a severe contest, finally driven over the stream of Dos Casos.
On the 4th Masséna arrived; and, having examined all the line, made dispositions for the next day. Forty thousand infantry, and five thousand horse, with thirty pieces of artillery were under arms; and they had shown, in the action of the 3rd, that their courage was not abated. The position of the English was, on the other hand, not at all desirable; and it required no common resolution to receive battle on ground so dangerous. The action began by severe cavalry fighting; and the British horsemen, being overmatched, retired behind the light division, which threw itself into squares; but the main body of the French were upon the seventh division, before the like formation could be effected; nevertheless the troops stood firm, and, although some were cut down, the Chasseurs Britanniques, taking advantage of a loose wall, received the attack with such a fire, that the enemy recoiled. Immediately after this, a commotion was observed among the French squadrons; men and officers closed in confusion towards one point, where a thick dust was arising, and where loud cries and the sparkling of blades and the flashing of pistols indicating some extraordinary occurrence. Suddenly the multitude was violently agitated; an English shout arose, the mass was rent asunder, and Norman Ramsey burst forth at the head of his battery, his horses on full stretch, and his guns bounding along like things of no weight, with the mounted gunners in close and compact order protecting the rear. But while this brilliant action was passing in one part, the enemy were making progress in the wood, and it was evident that the battle would soon be lost if the original position was not immediately regained.
In this posture of affairs, Lord Wellington directed the seventh division to cross the Turones and move down the left bank to Frenada. General Crauford, who had resumed the command of the light division, first covered the passage of the seventh, and then retired slowly over the plain in squares, having the British cavalry principally on the right flank. He was followed by the enemy’s horse, which continually outflanked him, and near the wood surprised and sabred an advanced post of the Guards, making Colonel Hill and fourteen men prisoners. Several times Montbrun seemed disposed to storm the light division squares, but we were too formidable to be meddled with. Yet, on the authority of Colonel Napier, there was not during the war a more dangerous hour than this for England. The whole of that vast plain, as far as the Turones, was covered with a confused multitude, amidst which the squares appeared but as specks. The seventh division was separated from the army by the Turones; five thousand French cavalry, with fifteen pieces of artillery, were close at hand, impatient to charge; the infantry of the eighth corps was in order of battle behind the horsemen; the wood was filled with the skirmishers of the sixth corps; and, if the latter body had issued forth, our division was in imminent danger of being broken. No effort of the sort was made. Montbrun’s horsemen merely hovered about our squares; the plain was soon cleared, the cavalry took post behind the centre, and the light division formed a reserve, sending the riflemen among the rocks to connect it with the seventh. At sight of this new front, so deeply lined with troops, the French stopped short, and commenced a heavy cannonade, which did great execution from the closeness of the allied masses; but twelve British guns replied with vigour, and the violence of the hostile fire abated. All this time a fierce battle was raging at Fuentes d’Onoro. Masséna had directed Drouet to carry this village, at the very moment when Montbrun’s cavalry should turn the right wing. It was, however, two hours later when the attack began. The three British regiments made a desperate resistance, but, overpowered by numbers, they were pierced and divided; two companies of the 79th were taken, Colonel Cameron was mortally wounded, and the lower part of the town was carried. The upper part was, however, stiffly held, and the rolling of musketry was incessant. In this manner the fight lasted till the evening, when the lower part of the town was abandoned by both parties; the British maintaining the crags, and the French retiring a cannon-shot from the stream. Fifteen hundred men and officers, of which three hundred were prisoners, comprised the loss of the allies; that of the enemy was computed at five thousand, but this I have reason to believe was an exaggerated statement.
The night after the action, I was stationed on the line of sentinels, not far from the French front, and at the extreme verge of our own. This service, which demands perpetual vigilance, requires also, on account of its wearisome and continued toil, no ordinary degree of physical energy, as the safety of the army itself often depends upon the caution and alertness with which the outposts are preserved. Often when pacing some doubtful position, at dead of night, I have applied my ear to the ground, to try if by that means a distant footstep could be heard. At the precise time to which I now refer, the feeble voice of many a poor wounded fellow, calling for help, might be heard. These were, however, removed by the parties on both sides without delay, after which the dead were buried with as much decency and respect as circumstances allowed. A pile of about one hundred and thirty dead bodies, of which one-third were British, was discovered on a small space at Fuentes d’Onoro; and several large excavations or graves were formed, in which the remains of our fallen friends were deposited.
Soon after this period the French were compelled to evacuate Almeida; but by a singular and ingenious train of operations, the men who defended it contrived to effect their escape. During the battle of Fuentes d’Onoro, General Brennier, the governor of Almeida, with his garrison of fifteen hundred, skirmished boldly with the blockading force, and loud explosions, supposed to be signals of communication with the relieving army, were frequently heard. When all hope of succour vanished, a soldier named Tillet contrived, with extraordinary courage and presence of mind, to penetrate, although in uniform, through the posts of the blockade, carrying Brennier orders to evacuate the fortress. The blockade, it would appear, was imperfectly maintained. This was noticed by Brennier, who prepared to force his way through the encircling troops. An open country and a double line of troops greatly enhanced the difficulty; yet Brennier was resolved, not only to cut his own passage, but to render the fortress useless to the allies. To effect this, he ruined all the principal bastions, and kept up a constant fire of his artillery, so directed that the mouth of one piece crossed that of another; while therefore some shots flew towards the besiegers, and a loud explosion was heard, others destroyed pieces without attracting notice. At midnight, on the 10th, all being ready, he sprang his mines, sallied forth in a compact column, broke through the piquets, and passed between the quarters of the reserves with a nicety that proved at once his talent of observation and his coolness. General Pack followed with a few men collected at the instant, and plied him with a constant fire; yet nothing could shake or retard his column, which in silence, and without returning a shot, gained the rough country upon Barba del Puerco. Here it halted for a moment, just as daylight broke; and Pack, who was at hand, hearing that some English dragoons were in a village, sent an officer to bring them out, thus occasioning a slight skirmish, and consequent delay. The troops of the blockade had paid little attention at first to the explosion of the mines, thinking them a repetition of Brennier’s previous practice; but Pack’s fire having aroused them, the 36th regiment was close at hand; and the 4th also, having heard the firing at Valde Mula, was rapidly gaining the right flank of the enemy. Brennier, having driven off the cavalry, was again in march; yet the British regiments, having thrown off their knapsacks, followed at such a pace that they overtook the rear of his column in the act of descending the deep chasm of Barba del Puerco, killed and wounded many, captured about three hundred, and even passed the bridge in pursuit. Lord Wellington, it is said, was stung by this event, and issued a remonstrance to the army, couched in terms which no one could misunderstand.
When Marmont had thus recovered the garrison of Almeida, he withdrew the greater part of his army to Salamanca. Lord Wellington also set out for that province; but before he could arrive, a great and bloody battle had closed the operations. Beresford held a conference with the Spanish generals at Valverde, on the 13th, when it was resolved to abide the enemy’s attack at Albuera. The position taken by the allied forces was, it is said, singularly defective. It was occupied by thirty thousand infantry, above two thousand cavalry, and thirty-eight pieces of artillery; but the brigade of the fourth division being still absent, the British infantry, the pith and strength of the battle, did not amount to seven thousand. The French had fifty guns, and above four thousand veteran cavalry, but only nineteen thousand chosen infantry; yet being of one nation, obedient to one discipline, and animated by one spirit, their excellent composition amply compensated for inferiority of numbers. Beside which, it is acknowledged by military men, that the talents of their general were immeasurably greater than those of his adversary. Soult examined Beresford’s position without hindrance on the evening of the 15th, and having detected the weakness of the entire arrangement, resolved to attack the next morning. Passing by the varied evolutions which preceded the contest, it may be sufficient to observe, that a little before nine in the morning, Godinet’s division issued from the woods in one heavy column of attack, preceded by ten guns. He was flanked by the light cavalry, and followed by Werle’s division of reserve; and, making straight towards the bridge, commenced a sharp cannonade, attempting to force the passage. The allies’ guns, on the rising ground above the village, answered the fire of the French, and ploughed through their columns, which were crowding without judgment towards the bridge, although the stream was fordable above and below.
Beresford, convinced that the principal effort would be on the right, sent Blake orders to form a part of the first and all the second line of the Spanish army on the broad part of the hills, at right angles to their actual front. Soon after, the enemy’s columns began to appear on the right; and Blake, moving at last, proceeded in the evolution with such pedantic slowness, that Beresford, impatient of his folly, took the direction in person. Great was the confusion and delay thus occasioned; and before the troops could be put in order, the French were among them. In one short half-hour Beresford’s situation was rendered nearly desperate. Two-thirds of the French were in compact order of battle, on a line perpendicular to his right, and his army, disordered, and composed of different nations, was still in the difficult act of changing its front. The Spaniards were already in disorder; some had given way; and Soult, thinking that the whole army was yielding, pushed forward his columns, while his reserves also mounted the hill, and all the batteries were placed in position. At this critical moment, General Stewart arrived with Colonel Colborne’s brigade, which formed the head of the second division. The colonel seeing the confusion above, desired to form in order of battle previous to mounting the ascent; but Stewart, carried away by the impetuosity of his feelings, led up without any delay in column of companies, and attempted to open out his line in succession as the battalions arrived at the summit. Being under a destructive fire, the foremost charged to gain room, but a heavy rain prevented any object from being distinctly seen; and four regiments of Hussars and Lancers, which had passed the right flank in obscurity, came galloping in upon the rear of the line, at the instant of its development, and slew or took two-thirds of the brigade. In the tumult, a lancer fell upon Beresford, but the marshal, a man of great strength, putting his spear aside, cast him from his saddle; and a shift of wind blowing aside the mist and smoke, the mischief was perceived from the plains by General Lumley, who sent four squadrons out upon the Lancers, and cut many of them off.
During this unhappy effort of the second division, so great was the confusion that the Spanish line continued to fire, although the British were before them; on which Beresford, finding his exhortations to advance fruitless, seized an ensign, and bore him and his colours by main force to the front. Yet the troops would not follow, and the man went back again on being released. At this juncture, Sir William Stewart once more advanced; and the weather having cleared, he poured a dreadful fire into the thickest of the French columns, convincing Soult, that whatever might be the result, the day was not yet won. Houghton’s regiments soon got footing on the summit, Dickson placed the artillery in line; the remaining brigade of the second division came up on the left; and two Spanish corps at last moved forward. The enemy’s infantry then recoiled; yet soon recovering, renewed the fight with greater violence than before. The cannon on both sides discharged showers of grape at half range, and the peals of musketry were incessant, and often within pistol-shot. But the close formation of the French embarrassed their battle, and the British line would not yield them one inch of ground nor a moment of time to open their ranks. Their fighting was, however, fierce and dangerous. Stewart was twice hurt, Colonel Duckworth of the 48th was slain, and the valiant Houghton, who had received many wounds without shrinking, fell, and died in the act of encouraging his men.
Still the combat raged with unabated fury. Colonel Inglis, twenty-two officers, and more than four hundred men, out of five hundred and seventy that had ascended the hill, fell in the 57th alone. And the other regiments were much the same in loss; not one-third were standing in any. Ammunition failed; and as the English fire slackened, the enemy established a column in advance upon the right flank. The play of Dickson’s artillery checked them for a moment, but again the Polish Lancers charged, and captured six guns. In this desperate crisis, Colonel Hardinge boldly ordered Cole to advance; and then riding to Colonel Abercrombie, who commanded the remaining brigade of the second division, directed him also to push forward into the fight. The die being thus cast, the terrible battle was continued. The field was heaped with carcases; the lancers were riding furiously about the captured artillery on the upper slope of the hill, and on the lower parts a Spanish and an English regiment, in mutual error, were exchanging volleys; behind all, some Portuguese, in withdrawing from the heights above the bridge, appeared to be in retreat. All now appeared to be lost, when all was in a few minutes gained by the conduct of a few brave and unconquerable men. Colonel Arbuthnot pushing between the fire of the mistaken troops, enlightened their minds; while Cole, with the Fusileers, flanked by a battalion of the Lusitanian legion, mounted the hill, dispersed the lancers, recovered the captured guns, and soon appeared on the right of Houghton’s brigade.
Such a gallant line issuing from the midst of the smoke, and rapidly separating itself from the confused and broken multitude, startled the enemy’s heavy masses, which were increasing and pressing onwards as to an assured victory; they wavered, hesitated, and then vomiting forth a storm of fire, hastily endeavoured to enlarge their front, while a fearful discharge of grape from all their artillery whistled through the British ranks. Myers was killed; Cole and the three colonels, Ellis, Blakeny, and Hawkshawe, fell wounded; and the fusileer battalions, struck by the iron tempest, began to reel. In that moment, when the last particle of energy appeared to be gone, they arose in almost unprecedented might, and surpassed their former selves. Closing at once with their enemies, the strength and intrepidity of a British soldier were exhibited in deeds seldom seen. In vain did Soult, by voice and gesture, animate his Frenchmen; in vain did the hardiest veterans, extricating themselves from the crowded columns, sacrifice their lives to gain time for the mass to open out on so fair a field; in vain did the mass itself bear up, and, fiercely striving, fire indiscriminately upon friends and foes, while the horsemen, hovering on the flank, threatened to charge the advancing line. Nothing could stop that astonishing infantry. Their eyes were bent on the dark columns in front; their firm, heavy, and measured tread shook the ground; their dreadful volleys swept away the head of every formation; their deafening shouts overpowered the dissonant cries that broke from all parts of the tumultuous crowd, as foot by foot, and with horrid carnage, it was driven by the vigour of the attack to the extreme edge of the hill. Here the last stand was made, with the hope of averting this mountain torrent. But it was in vain: the effort only served to increase the irremediable confusion; and the mighty mass giving way, like a loosened cliff, went headlong down the ascent.