“From the sublime to the ridiculous is but a step.”
Napoleon.
With a mere handful of soldiers, Junot, big with ideas of a future kingship, and underestimating the strength and fighting powers of the enemy, left Lisbon and entered the field against Wellesley, whose troops were now encamped at Vimiero to cover the landing of 4000 additional men under Generals Anstruther and Acland. Having joined forces with the unfortunate Loison and Delaborde and thereby brought up the total strength of his army to 13,056 men, the Marshal prepared to attack.
Wellesley, who had over 18,000 troops, including 2000 Portuguese, was well prepared, nay eager, for the encounter, but, unfortunately for him, Burrard arrived on the evening of the 20th August. When Wellesley explained to him his scheme of operations he showed no disposition to fall in with it. Wellesley had wished Sir John Moore to proceed to Lisbon by land in order to cut off Junot’s retreat, but the less-active Burrard would have none of it, and ordered him to wait until Moore’s arrival. “Whether we advance or not,” replied the General, “we shall have to fight. For the French will certainly attack us if we do not attack them.”
This prophecy was fulfilled about 8 o’clock on the morning of the 21st August 1808, when squadrons of the enemy’s cavalry appeared. An attack was made on the British advanced guard. The French were driven back at the point of the bayonet, while other troops, stationed in the churchyard of Vimiero, prevented them from reaching the village of that name, and Acland’s brigade attacked them in flank. “A most desperate contest” was necessary before the enemy recoiled in confusion, during which they lost heavily in killed and wounded, and in material seven pieces of cannon. Other French troops, supported by a large body of cavalry, turned their attention to the heights on the road to Lourinhão, where Ferguson’s brigade was stationed. The latter charged with praiseworthy coolness, and again there was a tale of disaster to tell when the enemy fell back, while half a dozen guns were captured. An attempt to recover part of the lost artillery resulted in the French being obliged to retire “with great loss.”
Burrard, who had slept on the vessel which had brought him out, did not arrive on the field till late in the day, and took no part in the direction of the battle until Wellesley wished to pursue the enemy to Torres Vedras and cut them off from Lisbon. “Sir Harry,” he said, “now is your time to advance, the enemy is completely beaten, and we shall be in Lisbon in three days.” This his senior officer absolutely forbade. Had the former been allowed to follow his own wishes he believed that, “in all probability, the whole would have been destroyed.” As it was, at least 1800 of the enemy were rendered hors de combat, including 300 or 400 troops who were made prisoners. The British lost in killed and missing 186 men, and 534 were wounded. The General was again delighted with the behaviour of his men, and in communicating with the Duke of York, he averred that “this is the only action I have ever been in, in which every thing passed as it was directed and no mistake was made by any of the Officers charged with its conduct.”
One splendid incident, one altogether human touch, affords relief to the story of the battle of Vimiero. A piper of the gallant 71st Highlanders, severely wounded in the thigh and deeply in need of surgical aid, continued to blow his pibroch for the encouragement of his colleagues, until exhaustion finally conquered his determined spirit. Seated on the ground he declared that “the lads should nae want music to their wark,” and went on with his weird music as though parading within the walls of Edinburgh Castle.
“I afterwards saw him,” relates Lieut.-General Sir William Warre, “in a hovel, where we collected the wounded ... both French and English. I shook him by the hand, and told him I was very sorry to see so fine a fellow so badly hurt; he answered, ‘Indeed, captain, I fear I am done for, but there are some of those poor fellows,’ pointing to the French, ‘who are very bad indeed.’”
Such coolness, typified in successive instances, although not always under such conditions,[44] has made our Empire what it is to-day. The “common” British soldier, sowing the highway with his bones, enables a later generation to reap a golden harvest.
The Gallant Piper at Vimiera