“Crawford, in a happy mood for command, made masterly dispositions. The tableland between him and the convent was sufficiently scooped to conceal the 43rd and 52nd Regiments drawn up in line; and a quarter of a mile behind them, on higher ground and close to the convent, the German infantry appeared to be the only solid line of resistance on this part of the position. In front of the British regiments, some rocks, overhanging the descent, furnished natural embrasures in which Ross’s guns were placed; and beyond them, the riflemen and Caçadores were placed as skirmishers, covering the slope of the mountain. While it was still dark, a straggling musketry fire was heard in the deep valley; and when the light broke, three heavy masses, detached from the Sixth Corps, were seen to enter the wood below and throw forward a profusion of skirmishers. One of them, under General Marchand, emerging from the dark chasm and following the main road, seemed intent to turn the right of the Light Division; a second, under Loison, made straight up the face of the mountain against the front; the third remained in reserve. Simon’s brigade, leading Loison’s attack, ascended with a wonderful alacrity; and though the light troops plied it unceasingly with musketry, and the artillery swept through it from the first to the last section, its order was never disturbed nor its speed in the least abated. Ross’s guns were worked with incredible quickness, yet the range was palpably contracted every round. The enemy’s shot came singing up in a sharper key; the English skirmishers, breathless and begrimed with powder, rushed over the edge of the ascent, the artillery drew back, and the victorious cries of the French were heard within a few yards of the summit.
“Crawford, standing alone on one of the rocks, had been intently watching the progress of the attack; and now, with a shrill tone, ordered the two regiments in reserve to charge. The next moment, a horrid shout startled the French column, and 1800 British bayonets went sparkling over the brow of the hill. Yet so brave, so hardy were the leading French, that each man of the first section raised his musket, and two officers and ten men fell before them. Not a Frenchman had missed his mark—they could do no more. The head of the column was violently thrown back on the rear, both flanks were overlapped at the same moment by the English wings, then terrible discharges at five yards’ distance shattered the waving mass, and a long track of broken arms and bleeding carcases marked the line of fight.”
At this battle were engaged the 1st, 5th, 9th, 38th, 43rd, 45th, 52nd, 74th, 83rd, 88th, and the Rifle Brigade. During the pursuit and retreat, both armies plundered somewhat, and three men were hanged at Leira by Wellington for this crime; while skirmishes with the rearguard occurred frequently, showing that the armies were still in close touch.
This emphasises the prescience of Wellington in preparing for this emergency. The temporary abandonment of Spain was due entirely to one cause, and that he early and fully recognised. “I have no motive,” he writes, “for withdrawing the British army from Spain, whether of a political or military nature, excepting that which I have stated to you in conversation—namely, a desire to relieve it from the privations of food which it has suffered since the 22nd of last month; privations which have reduced its strength, have destroyed the health of the soldiers, and have rendered the army comparatively inefficient.” Writing after the battle of Talavera, on the 31st July, he says: “It is positively a fact that during the last seven days the British army has not received one-third of its provisions, and that at this moment there are nearly four thousand wounded soldiers dying in hospital from want of common assistance and necessaries,” and this while the Spanish army was well fed. In such a case, even an attempt at embarkation might have been disturbed even more seriously than at Corunna, unless preparations to meet such an emergency were made, let alone the moral effect of such a withdrawal from the Peninsula. Hence, long before, the “lines of Torres Vedras” had been begun, and carried on with the greatest secrecy. Massena was not aware, apparently, of their existence. Those who did know, thought the works were merely for the protection of the capital, and to cover the embarkation if decided on. They were rather too extensive for either. They were in three lines, covering the five roads converging on Lisbon; the outer line was twenty miles from Lisbon, and twenty-nine miles long, extending from the Tagus to the mouth of the Zizambre; the second line, eight miles in rear, was twenty-four miles long, equally strongly fortified; the third line, which was to cover embarkation, enclosed an entrenched camp, with Fort St. Julian, a place of strength. In all there were one hundred and fifty redoubts, and six hundred guns; and British marines joined hands with the army and Portuguese in defence, while British gunboats guarded the flanks of the Torres Vedras lines.
Behind them, in all, were 130,000 combatants, of whom 70,000 were regulars.
Massena made sundry partial efforts against the lines, and then fell back on a fortified position at Santarem; while Junot, after capturing Badajoz and besieging Cadiz, had left Victor to continue the siege, and moved to join his chief; but he was turned back by the news that General Graham had, by transferring a force from Cadiz by sea, assailed the French lines at Barrosa. The Grenadiers, Scots and Coldstream Guards, and the 28th, 67th, 87th, and Rifle Brigade distinguished themselves in the battle, and Sergeant Masterton, of the 87th, captured the first eagle taken in the Peninsular War. Thus to their former nickname of the “Faugh-a-ballagh,” or “Clear-the-way Boys,” was possibly added that of the “Aiglers.” The battle had lasted but one and a half hours when the French retired.
In the meantime, Massena was steadily getting weaker, while his immediate adversary was getting reinforced; and he therefore determined on a retreat, which was “marked by a barbarity seldom equalled, and never surpassed.”[39] Wherever they bivouacked, “the scene was such as might have been looked for in a camp of predatory Tartars, rather than in that of civilised people. Food and forage, and skins of wine, and clothes, and church vestments, books and guitars, and all the bulkier articles of wasteful spoil were heaped together in their huts, with the planks and doors of the habitations which they had demolished. Some of the men, retaining amidst this brutal service the characteristic activity and cleverness of their nation, fitted up their tents with hangings from their last scene of pillage, with a regard to comfort hardly to have been expected in their situation, and a love of gaiety only to be found in Frenchmen.” It was not for four days that Wellington was aware that the French were retreating; but as soon as he could concentrate, he commenced a pursuit, in which a series of brilliant skirmishes and rearguard actions were fought at Pombal, Redinha, Condeixa, Cazel Nova, and Foz d’Aronce.
Beresford was detached to besiege Badajoz. At Sabugal, which Wellington describes as “one of the most glorious actions British troops were ever engaged in,” the 43rd, with four companies of riflemen, practically checked the whole of Regnier’s corps, with artillery and cavalry added, and even captured one of the enemy’s howitzers.
These operations resulted in Massena’s abandonment of Portugal, and his retirement by Ciudad Rodrigo to Salamanca, having lost thirty thousand men since he had crossed the frontier a year before.
Throughout the whole of this campaign, the greatly, preponderating numbers of the French had been minimised by the usual jealousy and want of co-operation between the French marshals. Only Napoleon’s master-hand could keep them in hand, and make them work to a common end. The difference between the conduct of the war from the time he advanced by Vittoria on Madrid and dispersed the Spanish armies, and that after his return to France, is too marked to require comment.