The French losses can be made out with reasonable certainty after careful comparison of different returns in the Paris Archives. Soult had the shamelessness to assert in his dispatch to the Emperor that he had only 2,800 killed and wounded! But a tardily prepared and incomplete list drawn up on July 6th gave 6,000 casualties, of whom 900 were missing—wounded prisoners left on the allied position. Unfortunately this return, on examination, turns out to be far from satisfactory. Soult gives 262 officers killed, wounded, or missing, but the regimental returns when compiled show a much higher figure—359—and cannot possibly be wrong, since the name and rank of every officer hit is carefully recorded for documentary and official purposes.[495] But if 262 casualties among officers correspond (as the return of July 6th states) to 5,744 among the rank and file, then 362 officers hit must imply 7,900 men disabled, and this, we may conclude, was very near the real figure. Belmas and Lapéne, the most trustworthy French historians of the campaign, agree in giving 7,000, a thousand more than Soult conceded in his tardy and incomplete return. This proportion out of 24,000 men put in the field is sufficiently heavy, though exceeded so terribly by the 4,150 men lost out of 10,450 among the British troops. The units which suffered most heavily were the two divisions of the 5th Corps, which must have lost nearly 4,000 out of 8,400 present; Werlé’s reserve had probably close on 2,000 casualties, out of 5,600 bayonets; Godinot’s column and the cavalry had very considerable losses, but were the only troops fit for action next day. The 5th Corps was absolutely wrecked; in some battalions there were only three or four officers unhurt, and the losses were similar to those in Myers’s or Hoghton’s British brigades[496]. Two or three others had fared comparatively better, having been in the flank or rear at the time when the desperate musketry duel in the front was in progress. But the corps as a whole could not have been put in action on the 17th.
On the morning of that day each army sullenly formed line on its own side of the Albuera brook, but made no further movement. Beresford was prepared to fight another defensive battle, in the unlikely event of its being forced upon him[497], but was not willing to attack an enemy hidden behind a screen of woods, and possessed of a superior and still effective cavalry and artillery. Such an attack must have been delivered mainly by the Spanish and Portuguese infantry, since of the British only Abercrombie’s and Alten’s five battalions were fit for immediate service. The missing brigade of Kemmis arrived during the day, after a fatiguing march over the Jerumenha bridge, and added 1,400 bayonets more, but even so there would have been only 4,000 British infantry in full fighting trim; the sad relics of Hoghton’s and Colborne’s brigades were organized into two provisional battalions of 600 men each, where whole regiments were represented by one, two, or, at the most, three companies. Myers’s brigade had 1,000 men left, so was better off, but no general would have dreamed of using any of these troops for offensive action on the day after the battle. An attack would have had to be delivered by the 9,000 Portuguese infantry, backed by the Spaniards and Abercrombie, Alten, and Kemmis. Beresford refused to try it, even though he knew that Soult’s losses had been greater than his own, so far as mere numbers went; probably, he argued, Soult would retire covered by his cavalry and artillery if he were assailed. Covered by the woods, he could get off as he pleased. But Soult was certain to retire in any case, as news had now come to hand that Wellington was coming down to Elvas with two divisions[498], and might be expected there immediately—he actually arrived on the 19th; the head of his column had marched on the 14th, and reached Elvas on the 23rd. To risk anything in order to get Soult on the move a few days earlier was not worth while.
The French marshal was even further than Beresford from the idea of renewing operations on the 17th; he had shot his bolt and failed—the battle, so he declared, would never have been fought if he had known that Blake had joined the British on the night of the 15th. His main object in keeping his ground for a day was to organize the transport of a column of 5,000 wounded on to Seville; if he had retired at once, the greater part of them would have had to be abandoned. As it was, his transport was used up, and several hundreds of severe cases had to be left to the mercy of the Allies, in and about the chapel in the wood of Albuera. Beresford found them there on the morning of the 18th, for Soult commenced his retreat before dawn, some thirty-six hours after the battle was over. Gazan (himself wounded) and some 2,000 men from the regiments which had been most cut up guarded the convoy (which included the 500 British prisoners)[499], southward along the great chaussée. Soult himself, with the rest of the army, now reduced to 14,000 men at the most, retired by a more circuitous route, by Solana and Fuente del Maestre towards Llerena and the Sierra Morena. Beresford’s cavalry followed, but was unable to do anything in face of Latour-Maubourg’s preponderant squadrons. The allied infantry remained behind to resume the siege of Badajoz; on the 18th Hamilton’s division and Madden’s cavalry were sent back to invest the place, which was shut in again at dawn on the 19th, after having been relieved of the presence of the Allies for only three days (16th-17th-18th May). General Phillipon had employed this short respite in the useful task of levelling the allied trenches and batteries outside his works. He found nothing in them of which he could make booty, save the heavy wood employed for the gun-platforms before San Cristobal. The more valuable stores had all been removed to Elvas, the gabions and fascines burned by the 4th Division before it gave up the investment on the night of the 15th May.
That Albuera, with all its slaughter, was a battle in which both sides committed serious errors is generally acknowledged; but few are the general actions in which there is nothing to criticize on the part of the victor—much more of the vanquished. We must, however, protest against Napier’s sweeping assertion that ‘no general ever gained so great a battle with so little increase of military reputation as Marshal Beresford[500]. His triumph was disputed by the very soldiers who followed his car. Their censures have been reiterated without change and without abatement to this hour, and a close examination (while it detects many ill-founded observations and others tainted with malice) leaves little doubt that the general feeling was right[501].’ Napier then proceeds to argue that Beresford ought to have refused battle, and retired beyond the Guadiana, that his concentration was over-tardy, and that, considering the doubtful quality of Blake’s troops, he was too bold in fighting. His tactical dispositions were bad; ‘he occupied the position so as to render defeat almost certain’; he brought up his reserves in a succession of separate attacks, and hesitated too long to move the 4th Division. ‘Hardinge caused Cole and Abercrombie to win the victory;’ the guidance of a commanding mind was nowhere seen.
Napier was Beresford’s bitter enemy, and it is clear that his eloquent denunciations of the Marshal were inspired by a personal animosity which clouded his judgement. His account of Albuera is one of the finest pieces of military writing in the English language, but it bristles with mistakes, many of them worked in so as to throw additional discredit on his enemy’s capacity[502]. One turns naturally to investigate Wellington’s observations on the fight, made when he had ridden over the field on May 21st, only five days after the battle. In one private letter he writes, ‘We had a very good position, and I think should have gained a complete victory without any material loss, if the Spaniards could have manœuvred; but unfortunately they cannot.’ In another he says, ‘The Spanish troops behaved admirably, I understand. They stood like stocks while both parties were firing into them, but they were quite immovable, and this was the great cause of all our losses. After they had lost their position, the natural thing to do would have been to attack it with the nearest Spanish troops, but these could not be moved. The British troops [2nd Division] were next, and they were brought up (and must in such cases always be brought up), and they suffered accordingly.’
Wellington’s opinion therefore was that Blake’s slowness in guarding against the flank attack was the real cause of all the trouble. Considering the gallant way in which Zayas’s four battalions fought, when once they were in line, it certainly seems that if thrice the force which that officer was given had been thrown back en potence across the heights, as Beresford desired, at the moment that Soult’s movement was detected, they would have held their own so effectively that the British 2nd Division could have come up at leisure, and in order, to support the Spaniards. As it was, the reinforcements sent over-late by Blake to help Zayas arrived by driblets, and gave him little help, falling into a mere tiraillade with the French light troops on Zayas’s left, instead of engaging in the main battle.
After Blake’s slowness the main cause of loss was William Stewart’s over-haste. Beresford had given orders that the whole 2nd Division was to form up in a second line behind Zayas, and go into action simultaneously, outflanking the massed 5th Corps on either wing. Stewart, combining over-zeal and want of discipline, attacked with the first brigade that came up, while the second and the third were still remote. He also, if several contemporaries are to be trusted, refused to listen to Colonel Colborne’s request to be allowed to keep a unit in square or column, to protect the flank of the 1st brigade when it started out to make its attack[503], and it was the want of this flank-guard alone which made the charge of the Polish lancers so effective. As Beresford’s vindicator writes, ‘The Marshal had directed Sir William Stewart to form the second line; he could not distrust an officer of his experience, zeal, and knowledge of the service.’ That his subordinate should be struck with sudden battle-fury, and attack the French flank with one isolated brigade, contrary to his orders, cannot be imputed as a crime to Beresford, who was in no way responsible for it. The move, and the disaster that followed within a few minutes, took place without his knowledge. As he was endeavouring to put in line the Spanish battalions which were coming up to reinforce Zayas, he was surprised by being charged in the midst of his staff by a knot of the lancers, who a minute before had ridden over Colborne’s men on his right. It is clear that if the three brigades of the 2nd Division had been properly arranged and put into action simultaneously, as Beresford intended, the 5th Corps would have been driven from the heights an hour before it actually yielded. Girard’s division had already wellnigh exhausted itself upon Zayas’s stubborn resistance, and it was only the interval in the allied attack, caused by the destruction of Colborne’s brigade, which permitted Gazan’s troops to get up into the front line, in such order as they could, in time to fight Hoghton and Abercrombie. If Stewart’s advance had been made at the proper time, he would have come upon the two French divisions at the very moment when they were making their confused change of front. They could not have resisted the assault, considering the disorder in which they were mingled. Soult, who had just made up his mind to discontinue the offensive battle in which he was engaged[504], would certainly have used Werlé’s reserve only to cover his retreat, and would have withdrawn from a position which had become desperate, covered by his cavalry.
The one point in which Napier’s charges against Beresford have some foundation is that there was undoubtedly much delay in putting Cole and the 4th Division into action. This, as we have shown above, was caused by Beresford’s wish to strike the final blow at the 5th Corps with Hamilton’s Portuguese, whom he had ordered to the front after Colborne’s disaster, and who did not make their appearance, partly because the first aide-de-camp sent for them was wounded on the way, partly because Hamilton had changed his position, and was not found at once by later messengers. When it became evident that the delay was growing dangerous, Beresford would have done well to send Cole orders to advance at once, and to have directed Abercrombie also to charge. Napier is right in saying that ‘Hardinge caused Cole to win the victory,’ for Cole’s advance was made without Beresford’s orders, and even contrary to his intention, since he had sent for Alten and the Portuguese to make the final stroke. But while they were being collected, Hoghton’s brigade had been practically used up, and there was nothing but Zayas’s reformed but exhausted battalions in Hoghton’s rear, to form the allied centre. It is true, however, that, supposing the last relics of the ‘Die-hards’ and their comrades had finally recoiled, there would have been no push or impetus left in their opponents of the 5th Corps, who were a spent force, in complete disorder, and with hardly one man in two left standing. While they were disentangling themselves for a final effort, Collins’s and Fonseca’s Portuguese, perfectly trustworthy troops and absolutely fresh, would have been getting into position. It is practically certain that Soult would have made no further attempt to go forward. His own dispatch states that he had abandoned all offensive intentions. This much Beresford’s advocates may plead; but it remains true that the moral impression of Albuera would have been very different if the charge of the Fusilier brigade had never taken place. It was their triumphant sweeping away of Werlé’s reserve which struck dismay into the enemy. If it had never occurred, Soult would have retired, foiled indeed, but in good order, and with two or three thousand fewer casualties than he actually suffered.
In criticizing the operations of the French, the main point which strikes us is that Soult stands self-convicted of hesitation and divided purpose in the crisis of the battle. His attack had been admirable; the movement which threw four-fifths of his available force unexpectedly on to Beresford’s flank was beautifully designed and carried out. But when, in the check and pause that followed the incident of Colborne’s disaster, he realized (as he himself says) that he had 30,000 men and not 20,000 to fight, and that ‘the odds were no longer fair,’ he should have made up his mind either to withdraw under cover of his splendid cavalry, or else to risk all, and throw his infantry reserves straight into the fight, before the enemy’s line was reformed. He did neither, but, as he says, ‘giving up his original project, aimed at nothing more than retaining the ground already won.’ What use was half a mile of hillside to him, if he had failed to break the Allies and drive them off the position which covered the road to Badajoz? He deserved the beating that he got for this extraordinary resolve.
As to the details of the French tactics, Girard was responsible for the dense order of the 5th Corps, which told so fatally on his men. But in arranging them as he did, he was but adopting the method that most other French generals were wont to use. Accustomed to break through the lines of Continental armies by the impetus of a solid mass, and not by musketry fire, he prepared to employ the normal shock-tactics of the ‘column of divisions.’ It may be even noticed that, more enlightened than many of his comrades, he used the ordre mixte recommended by Napoleon, in which some battalions in three-deep line were interspersed among the columns. His array was better than that of Victor at Barrosa or Talavera, or that of Reynier and Ney at Bussaco. But he had never met the British line before—this was the first time that the 5th Corps saw the red-coats—and he did not know the unwelcome truth that Reille told Napoleon before Waterloo: ‘Sire, l’infanterie anglaise en duel c’est le diable.’ There was, no doubt, extra confusion caused by the fact that the 2nd Division of the corps closed up too near to the first, so that the passage des lignes, when it was brought up to the front with the idea of passing it through the intervals of the shattered regiments of the van, was even more disorderly than was necessary. But the crucial mistake, repeated by every French general throughout the war, was to come on in column at all against the British line. Girard did no worse than his contemporaries, and the gallant obstinacy of his troops enabled him to inflict very heavy losses upon the victors.