“Montbrun’s cavalry,” we are told, “merely hovered about Craufurd’s squares, the plain was soon cleared, the cavalry took post behind the centre, and the Light Division formed a reserve to the right of the 1st Division, sending the riflemen among the rocks to connect it with the 7th Division, which had arrived at Freneda, and was there joined by Julian Sanchez. At the sight of this new front, so deeply lined with troops, the French stopped short, and commenced a heavy cannonade, which did great execution, from the closeness of the allied masses; but twelve British guns replied with vigour, and the violence of the enemy’s fire abated; their cavalry then drew out of range, and a body of French infantry, attempting to glide down the ravine of the Turones, was repulsed by the riflemen and light companies of the Guards.”
Meanwhile a fierce conflict was taking place in the village of Fuentes. It continued see-saw fashion until the evening, both sides bringing up reserves and contesting every inch of the ground. Three regiments were driven from the lower parts of the village, but reinforcements were at hand, and the higher streets were never abandoned, although a chapel held by the troops in that quarter was evacuated. At nightfall the French crossed the river, leaving 400 of their dead in the village. Wellington averred that the battle “was the most difficult I was ever concerned in, and against the greatest odds. We had very nearly three to one against us engaged; about four to one of cavalry; and, moreover, our cavalry had not a gallop in them, while some of that of the enemy was fresh, and in excellent order. If Bony had been there we should have been beaten.”
As a battle the engagement scarcely could be called a victory for the Allies, but Masséna had failed to relieve Almeida, while Wellington had succeeded in covering its blockade. The total casualties of the British, Spanish, and Portuguese on the 3rd and 5th reached 1800, of the French nearly 3000, and 210 were taken prisoners. On the morning of the 8th May the last of the enemy left the field, but three days later the Commander-in-Chief received bad news. On the previous night the garrison of Almeida blew up part of the fortress and escaped, although the force sent by Wellington to blockade it was “four times more numerous than the garrison.” He characterized it as “the most disgraceful event that has yet occurred to us.” His correspondence at this period teems with references to it.
Masséna was no longer “the favoured child of victory” or Napoleon’s “right arm,” as the Emperor had called him, and he was recalled, to be succeeded by Marmont, an excellent artillery officer then not quite thirty-seven years of age, whereas Masséna was fifty-three and deemed “too old” by his autocratic sovereign.
Marmont speedily came to the conclusion when he took up his new post that without rest the so-called army of Portugal could not possibly expect to meet Wellington with any likelihood of success. He accordingly moved his troops to the province of Salamanca, where we will leave them for a little while to watch the course of the war elsewhere.
Beresford had now invested Badajoz, and engaged the enemy in several sorties, on one occasion suffering severe loss owing to the imprudence of his troops. Receiving news to the effect that Soult was rapidly approaching with the determined object of relieving it, he raised the siege and posted his army on the ridge of Albuera to stop the French advance. The British Commander had nearly 32,000 men at his disposal. Of these no fewer than 24,000 were foreigners, including the Spanish forces of Blake, Castaños, Ballasteros, and Don Carlos d’España, which had formed a junction with him. The enemy had 23,000 troops.
As Wellington was not present a detailed description of the battle, which took place on the 16th May, does not come within the province of this volume. It was one of the most fiercely contested of the entire war. So much so that Beresford used up his entire reserves and lost 4100 British troops, in addition to 1400 Portuguese and Spanish killed and wounded. The French losses were over 6000, and 500 were taken prisoners. Had it not been for Colonel Hardinge, Beresford would have retreated. Following his colleague’s advice he remained and was victorious. It was at Albuera that the 57th Foot (now the 1st Middlesex Regiment) won the well-deserved name of “Die Hards” from the fact that Colonel Inglis shouted to his troops, “Die hard, my men; die hard!”[66] “It was observed,” writes Beresford to Wellington, “that our dead, particularly the 57th regiment, were lying, as they had fought, in ranks, and that every wound was in front.”
On the 19th Wellington, with two divisions, arrived at Elvas, and on the 21st he rode to Albuera and surveyed the site of the contest. “The fighting was desperate,” he writes, “and the loss of the British has been very severe; but, adverting to the nature of the contest, and the manner in which they held their ground against all the efforts the whole French army could make against them, notwithstanding all the losses which they had sustained, I think this action one of the most glorious and honourable to the character of the troops of any that has been fought during the war.”
Surely a more noble tribute to the “common” soldier was never penned!