What followed was not in accordance with the designs of either party. Souham had intended Boyer and Faverot to act simultaneously; but the former found the obstacle less and less inviting the farther that he went on: he rode for more than a mile without discovering a passage, and finally got out of sight of Souham and the high road[91]. Meanwhile Faverot had advanced straight for the bridge, and had begun to cross it. Of his three regiments the Berg lancers led, the 15th Chasseurs came next, the Legion of Gendarmerie brought up the rear. They were ten squadrons in all, or some 1,200 sabres. As each squadron got quit of the bridge it formed up in line, the first to pass to the right of the road, while those which followed successively took ground to the left, between the chaussée and the bank of the Arlanzon. Eight squadrons had got into position before the British line gave any signs of movement on the hillside above.
It is clear that to cross a bridge in this fashion was a reckless manœuvre. If Bock had charged when two or three squadrons only had passed[92], he must have crushed them in the act of deployment, and have jammed the rest of the French column at the bridgehead in a position of helpless immobility. That no such charge was made resulted from a curious chance. Stapleton Cotton, who was still conducting the retreat, had placed Bull’s battery at a point on the slope where he judged that it fully commanded the bridge, with Bock’s four squadrons on its right. Then Anson’s brigade, not in the best of order after its long pursuit by the enemy, trotted over the bridge and came up the slope. Cotton intended that it should deploy on the left of the guns, but the retreating regiments, before the directions reached them, turned to the right and began to form up behind Bock’s line. The general at once sent them orders to cross to the left and prolong the line on the other side of Bull’s battery. By some extraordinary blunder the leading regiment (perhaps to shorten its route) passed to the left in front of the guns, instead of moving behind them. It was thus masking the battery just at the moment that the French, to the surprise of every one, began to cross the bridge. There was considerable confusion in changing the march of the light dragoons, and before they were cleared off and the front of the battery was free, several French squadrons were across the ravine and forming up. The artillerymen then opened, but in their hurry they misjudged the elevation, and not one shot of the first discharge told. The second did hardly better; more French were passing every moment, and Cotton then directed the cavalry to charge, since the enemy was becoming stronger and stronger on the near side of the bridge.
The charge was delivered in échelon of brigades; Bock’s two regiments, who had been awaiting orders for some time, got away at once, and fell upon the left of the French—the gendarmes and the left squadrons of the Chasseurs. Anson’s six squadrons started somewhat later, and having tired horses—after their long morning’s fight—came on at a much slower pace. They found themselves opposed to the Lancers and the right squadrons of the Chasseurs. There was such a perceptible space between the two attacks, that some of the French narratives speak of the British charge as being made by a front line and a reserve. The numbers engaged were not very unequal[93]—probably 1,200 French to 1,000 British—but the former were all fresh, while the larger half of the latter (Anson’s brigade) were wearied out—man and horse—by long previous fighting.
All accounts—English and French—agree that this was one of the most furious cavalry mêlées ever seen: the two sides broke each other’s lines at various points—the 1st K.G.L. Dragoons rode down their immediate opponents, the 2nd got to a standing fight with theirs: Anson’s regiments, coming on more slowly on their jaded mounts, made no impression on the Lancers and Chasseurs opposite them. The whole mass fell into a heaving crowd ‘so completely mixed that friend could hardly be distinguished from foe—the contest man to man lasted probably a long minute, during which the ground was strewn with French, and our own loss was heavy in the extreme.’ General Bock was at one time seen defending himself against six Frenchmen, and was barely saved by his men. Beteille, the Colonel of the French Gendarme Legion, received, it is said, twelve separate wounds, and was left for dead. The combat was ended by the intervention of the two rear squadrons of the Gendarmes, who had not crossed the bridge when the charge began; they came up late, and fell upon the flank and rear of the 2nd Dragoons of the K.G.L. This last push settled the matter, and the British brigades broke and fell back[94].
They were not so disheartened, however, but that they rallied half a mile to the rear, and were showing fight when Boyer’s dragoons came tardily upon the scene—they had at last found a passage over the ravine, and appeared in full strength on the flank. It was hopeless to oppose them, and the wrecks of the two British brigades fell back hastily towards their infantry support, Halkett’s two Light Battalions of the German Legion, which had been retreating meanwhile towards Villadrigo, marching in column at quarter distance and prepared to form square when necessary. The need now came—the leading regiment of Boyer’s Dragoons turned upon the rear battalion—the 1st—and charged it: the square was formed in good time, and the attack was beaten off. The battalion then retired, falling back upon the 2nd, which had nearly reached Villadrigo. Both then retreated together, covering the broken cavalry, and had gone a short distance farther when the French renewed the attack. Both battalions formed square, both were charged, and both repulsed the attack of the dragoons with loss. The enemy, who had still plenty of intact squadrons, seemed to be contemplating a third charge, but hesitated, and finally Bock’s and Anson’s men having got back into some sort of order, and showing a front once more, the squares retired unmolested, and marched off in company with the cavalry. The French followed cautiously and gave no further trouble. It was now dark, and when the pursuit ceased the rearguard halted for two hours, and resuming its march about ten o’clock, finally reached the bridge of Quintana del Puente, outside Torquemada, at two o’clock next morning.
Thus ended a costly affair, which might have proved much more perilous had the French been better managed. But though their troopers fought well enough, their generals failed to get such advantage as they should out of their superior numbers. It is to be noted that both Curto and Boyer have very poor records in the memoirs of Marmont, Foy, and other contemporary writers, who speak on other occasions of the ‘inertie coupable’ and ‘faute de décision’ of the one, and call the other ‘bon manœuvrier, mais n’ayant pas la réputation qui attire la confiance aveugle du soldat’: Napoleon once summed them up as ‘mauvais ou médiocres[95], along with several other generals. It seems clear, at any rate, that they should have accomplished more, with the means at their disposal. The damage inflicted on the British rearguard was much smaller than might have been expected—only 230 in all, including 5 officers and 60 men taken prisoners[96]. It is probable indeed that the pursuers suffered no less; for, though their official report spoke of no more than about a hundred and fifty casualties, Faverot’s Brigade alone had almost as many by itself, showing a list of 7 killed and 18 officers and 116 men wounded. But the regimental lists give 35 French cavalry officers in all disabled that day, 5 in Curto’s division, 5 in Merlin’s Brigade, 5 in Boyer’s Dragoons, and 2 on the staff, beside the 18 in Faverot’s Brigade. This must indicate a total loss of nearly 300, applying the very moderate percentage of casualties of men to officers that prevailed in Faverot’s regiments to the other corps. The engagement had been most honourable to the two cavalry brigades of Wellington’s rearguard, and not less so to the German Legion light infantry. An intelligent observer—not a soldier—who saw the whole of the fighting that day remarked, ‘I twice thought Anson’s Brigade (which was weak in numbers and much exhausted by constant service) would have been annihilated; and I believe we owe the preservation of that and of the heavy German brigade to the admirable steadiness of Halkett’s two Light Battalions.... We literally had to fight our way for four miles, retiring, halting, charging, and again retiring. I say we because I was in the thick of it, and never witnessed such a scene of anxiety, uproar, and confusion. Throughout the whole of this trying occasion Stapleton Cotton behaved with great coolness, judgement, and gallantry. I was close to him the whole time, and did not observe him for an instant disturbed or confused[97].’ At the end of the fight one officer in a jaded regiment observed to another that it had been a bad day. His friend replied that it had been a most honourable day for the troops, for at nightfall every unwounded man on an efficient horse was still in line and ready to charge again. There had been no rout, no straggling, and no loss of morale.
While the combat of Venta del Pozo was in progress the main body of the army had been resting in and about Torquemada, undisturbed by any pursuit, so well had the rearguard played its part. Next morning (October 24th) it marched off and crossed the Carrion river by the bridges of Palencia, Villamuriel, and Dueñas. Behind this stream Wellington was proposing to check the enemy for at least some days. He chose it, rather than the Pisuerga, as his defensive line for tactical reasons. If he had stayed behind the Pisuerga, he would have had the Carrion and its bridges in his immediate rear, and he was determined not to fight with bridge-defiles behind him. In the rear of the Carrion there were no such dangerous passages, and the way was clear to Valladolid. It was fortunate that, after the lively day on the 23rd, the French made no serious attempt at pursuit upon the 24th, for there were many stragglers that morning from the infantry. Torquemada was the centre of a wine-district and full of barrels, vats, and even cisterns of the heady new vintage of 1812; many of the men had repaid themselves for a twenty-six mile march by over-deep potations, and it was very hard to get the battalions started next morning.[98] Napier says that ‘twelve thousand men at one time were in a state of helpless inebriety:’ this is no doubt an exaggeration, but the diaries of eye-witnesses make it clear that there was much drunkenness that day.
Wellington’s new position extended from Palencia on the Carrion to Dueñas on the Pisuerga, below its junction with the first-named river. He intended to have all the bridges destroyed, viz. those of Palencia, Villa Muriel, and San Isidro on the Carrion, and those of Dueñas and Tariego on the Pisuerga. He placed one of the Galician divisions (Cabrera’s) in Palencia and south of it, supported by the 3/1st from the 5th Division. Another Galician division (Losada’s) continued the line southward to Villa Muriel, where it was taken up by the 5th Division—now under General Oswald who had recently joined. The 1st, 6th, and 7th Divisions prolonged the line down the Pisuerga. Behind the rivers, all the way, there was a second line of defence, formed by the dry bed of the Canal of Castile, which runs for many miles through the valley: it was out of order and waterless, but the depression of its course made a deep trench running parallel with the Carrion and Pisuerga, and very tenable. It must be noted that Palencia lay to the wrong side of the Carrion for Wellington’s purpose, being on its left or eastern bank. It had, therefore, either to be held as a sort of tête de pont, or evacuated before the enemy should attack. The Spanish officer in command resolved to take the former course, though the town was indefensible, with a ruinous mediaeval wall: he occupied it, and made arrangements for the blowing up of the bridge only when his advanced guard should have been driven out of Palencia and should have recrossed the river.
Souham, who had pushed his head-quarters forward to Magaz this day, resolved to try to force the line of the Carrion. Two divisions under Foy—his own and that of Bonté (late Thomières)—were to endeavour to carry Palencia and its bridge. Maucune, with the old advanced guard, his own division and that of Gauthier[99], was to see if anything could be done at the bridges of Villa Muriel and San Isidro. Foy had Laferrière’s cavalry brigade given him, Maucune retained Curto’s light horse. The main body of the army remained in a mass near Magaz, ready to support either of the advanced columns, if it should succeed in forcing a passage.
Unfortunately for Wellington, everything went wrong at Palencia. Foy, marching rapidly on the city, drove away the few squadrons of Galician cavalry which were observing his front, and then burst open one of its rickety gates with artillery fire, and stormed the entry with Chemineau’s brigade. The Galician battalions in the town, beaten in a short street fight, were evicted with such a furious rush that the British engineer officer with the party of the 3/1st, who were working at the bridge, failed[100] to fire the mine, whose fuse went wrong. Most of them were taken prisoners. Colonel Campbell of the 3/1st, who had been sent to support the Spaniards, fell back towards Villa Muriel, judging the enemy too strong to be resisted, and the routed Galicians had to be covered by Ponsonby’s heavy dragoons from the pursuit of the French cavalry, who spread over the environs of Palencia and captured some baggage trains, British and Spanish, with their escorts.