A history of the Peninsular War, Vol. 2, Jan.-Sep. 1809

by Charles Oman

On the left of the 4th division the enclosed ground ended, and cover ceased. Here, forming the British centre, were drawn up the eight battalions of Sherbrooke’s division, in a single line. The Guards’ brigade, under Henry Campbell, was in perfectly flat level ground, without shade or cover. Next to them, where there is a gentle ascent towards the foot of the Cerro de Medellin, were Cameron’s two battalions; while the two weak brigades of the King’s German Legion, under Langwerth and Low, continued the front on to the actual hill, with the Portiña, now flowing in a well-marked ravine, at their feet[638]. The whole of this part of the British line was bare rolling ground covered with long dry grass and scattered shrubs of thyme. There was no cover, and before the Guards’ and Cameron’s brigades the front was not defined by any strong natural feature. On the other hand, the terrain on the opposite side of the Portiña was equally bare, and gave no advantage to an enemy about to attack.

It was otherwise in the portion of the front where the four German battalions of Langwerth and Low were placed. They had a steep ravine in front of them, but on the opposite side, as a compensating disadvantage, the rolling upland swells into a hill called the Cerro de Cascajal, which, though much less lofty than the Cerro de Medellin, yet afforded good artillery positions from which the English slopes could be battered.

Behind Sherbrooke’s troops, as the second line of his centre, Wellesley had drawn up his 3rd division and all his cavalry. Cotton’s light dragoons were in the rear of Kemmis’s brigade of the 4th division. Mackenzie’s three battalions supported the Guards: then came Anson’s light and Fane’s heavy cavalry, massed on the rising slope in the rear of Cameron. Lastly Donkin’s brigade, which had suffered so severely in the combat of Casa de Salinas, lay high up the hill, directly in the rear of Low’s brigade of the King’s German Legion.

It only remains to speak of the British left, on the highest part of the Cerro de Medellin. This section of the front was entrusted to Hill’s division, which was already encamped upon its reverse slope. Here lay the strongest point of the position, for the hill is steep, and well covered in its front by the Portiña, which now flows in a deep stony ravine. But it was also the part of the British fighting-ground which was most likely to be assailed, since a quick-eyed enemy could not help noting that it was the key of the whole—that if the upper levels of the Cerro de Medellin were lost, the rest of the allied line could not possibly be maintained. It was therefore the part of the position which would require the most careful watching, and Wellesley had told off to it his most capable and experienced divisional general. But by some miscalculation, on the evening of the twenty-seventh Hill’s two brigades were not lying on their destined battle-line, but had halted half a mile behind it—Richard Stewart’s battalions on the left, Tilson’s on the right flank of the reverse slope. It is difficult to see with whom the responsibility lay, for Wellesley was far to the right, engaged in planting Mackenzie’s troops in their new position behind the centre, while Hill had ridden over towards Talavera to search for his Commander-in-chief and question him about details, and returned rather late to give his brigadiers the exact instruction as to the line they were to take up at nightfall[639]. There were piquets on the crest, and the greater part of the front slopes were covered by Low’s two battalions of the King’s German Legion, but the actual summit of the Cerro was not occupied by any solid force, though the brigades that were intended to hold it lay only 800 yards to the rear. It was supposed that they would have ample time to take up their ground in the morning, and no one dreamt of the possibility of a night attack.

Of the very small force of artillery which accompanied the British army, we have already seen that Lawson’s light 3-pounder battery had been placed in the Pajar de Vergara entrenchment. Elliott’s and Heyse’s were in the centre of the line; the former placed in front of the Guards, the latter before Langwerth’s brigade of the German Legion. Rettberg’s heavy 6-pounders were on the Cerro de Medellin, with Hill’s division: at dusk they had been brought back to its rear slope and were parked near Richard Stewart’s brigade. Finally Sillery’s battery was in reserve, between the two lines, somewhere behind Cameron’s brigade of Sherbrooke’s division. This single unit was the only artillery reserve of which Wellesley could dispose.

The precise number of British troops in line was 20,194, after deducting the losses at Casa de Salinas; that of the Spaniards was within a few hundreds of 32,000. The French, as we have already seen, had brought a little more than 46,000 men to the field, so that the allies had a superiority of some 6,000 in mere numbers. If Wellesley could have exchanged the Army of Estremadura for half their strength of British bayonets, he might have felt quite comfortable in his strong position. But his confidence in the value of his allies, even when firmly planted among walls and groves, was just about to receive a rude shock.

It was about seven o’clock when the heads of Victor’s columns, following in the wake of the horse artillery which had been galling Mackenzie’s retreat, emerged from the woods on to the rolling plateau facing the allied position. Ruffin appeared on the right, and occupied the Cascajal hill, opposite the Cerro de Medellin. Villatte followed, and halted in its rear. More to the left Lapisse, adopting the same line that had been taken by Mackenzie, halted in front of the British centre: the corps-cavalry, under Beaumont, was drawn up in support of him. Latour-Maubourg’s six regiments of dragoons, further to the south, took ground in front of the Spaniards. The King and Sebastiani were still far to the rear: their infantry was only just passing the Alberche, though their advanced cavalry under Merlin was already pushing forward in the direction of Talavera down the high-road from Madrid[640].

If Napoleon, or any other general who knew how to make himself obeyed, had been present with the French army, there would have been no fighting on the evening of July 27. But King Joseph counted for little in the eyes of his nominal subordinates, and hence it came to pass that the impetuous Victor took upon himself the responsibility of attacking the allies when only half the King’s army had come upon the field. With no more object, as it would seem, than that of harassing the enemy, he sent to the front the batteries belonging to Ruffin, Lapisse, and Latour-Maubourg, to join in the cannonade which his horse artillery had already begun. At the same time Merlin’s light horse pressed forward in the direction of Talavera, to feel for the front of the Spaniards, whose exact position was hidden by the olive groves. The British artillery replied, but no great harm was done to either side. Yet in the Spanish part of the line a dreadful disaster was on the point of occurring. When the artillery fire began, and the French light horse were seen advancing, the Estremaduran troops between Talavera and the Pajar de Vergara delivered a tremendous salvo of infantry fire along the whole line, though the enemy was too far off to take any damage. But, immediately after, four battalions of Portago’s division, which formed part of the left of Cuesta’s line and touched Campbell’s right, suddenly shouted ‘treason!’ broke, and went off to the rear in complete disorder. Wellesley, who, as it chanced, was behind Campbell’s troops, and witnessed the whole rout, declared that he could conceive no reason for their behaviour except that they must have been frightened by the crash of their own tremendous volley[641]. Two of these four battalions were troops who had never been in action before: the other two had been badly cut up at Medellin, and brought up to strength by the incorporation of a great mass of recruits[642]. This might have excused a momentary misconduct, but not a prolonged rush to the rear when the enemy was still half a mile off, still less the casting away of their arms and the plundering of the British camp, through which the multitude fled. Cuesta sent cavalry to hunt them up, and succeeded in hounding back the majority to their ranks, but many hundreds were still missing on the following morning. They fled in small bands all down the valley of the Tagus, dispersing dismal information on all sides. It is sad to have to acknowledge that in their rush through the British camp they carried away with them some commissaries and a few of the baggage guard, who did not halt till they got to Oropesa, twenty miles from the field[643]. Strange to say, this panic had no appreciable ill effects: the French were not in a position to take advantage of it, having no troops, save a few light horse, in front of the spot where it occurred. The Spaniards to the right and rear of the absconding regiments did not flinch, and as the second line held firm, there was no actual gap produced in the allied position. But Wellesley noted the scene, and never forgot it: of all that he had witnessed during the campaign, this was the sight that struck him most, and most influenced his future conduct. Cuesta also took account of it in his own fashion, and at the end of the battle of the next day proposed to decimate in the old Roman fashion, the battalions that had fled! He actually chose by lot some 200 men from the fugitives, and after trying them by court-martial prepared to shoot them. His British colleague begged off the majority, but the old Captain-General insisted on executing some twenty-five or thirty who were duly put to death on the morning of the twenty-ninth[644].

After the panic had died down, Victor gradually withdrew his batteries[645], but it was with no intention of bringing the combat to a real termination. He had resolved to deliver a night attack on the key of the British position, when the whole of his corps should have reached the front. Having reconnoitred the allied lines, and noted the distribution of their defenders, he had determined to storm the Cerro de Medellin in the dark. During his long stay at Talavera he had acquired a very thorough knowledge of its environs, and understood the dominating importance of that height. If he could seize and hold it during the night, he saw that the battle of the next day would be already half won. Accordingly, still without obtaining King Joseph’s leave, he determined to assail the Cerro. He told off for the storm his choicest division, that of Ruffin, whose nine battalions were already ranged on the front of the Cascajal heights. At the same time Lapisse’s division was to distract the attention of the British centre by a noisy demonstration against its front.

Night attacks are proverbially hazardous and hard to conduct, and it cannot be disputed that Victor showed an excessive temerity in endeavouring to deliver such a blow at the steady British troops, at an hour when it was impossible to guarantee proper co-operation among the attacking columns. But for an initial stroke of luck he ought not to have secured even the small measure of success that fell to his lot.