It was soon seen how well Sir Arthur had judged of the enemy’s intentions. Junot was ill supplied with provisions; he could not venture long to be absent from Lisbon: situated as he was, it appeared to him that there would be less evil in an immediate defeat, than must arise from prolonged operations, though they should lead ♦Thiebault, 194.♦ to a victory. His business, therefore, was to bring on an action as soon as possible, and to make the attack; and at the moment when Sir Harry Burrard, resolving upon delay, had countermanded the orders for advancing on the morrow, the French were in motion.
Vimeiro, a name which was now to become memorable in British and Portugueze history, is a village situated nearly at the bottom of a lovely valley, about three miles from the sea, and screened from the sea breeze by mountainous heights, through which the little river Maceira winds its way. The village stands at the eastern extremity of these heights; and on the opposite side, separated from them by a deep ravine, are other heights, over which the road to Lourinham passes, a little town in the Termo or district of which the parishes of Vimeiro and Maceira are included. The western termination reaches the sea-shore. As the army had halted here only for the night, meaning to proceed early on the morrow, they were disposed of, not as expecting an attack, but as most convenient for the troops. Six brigades bivouacked on the height to the westward. The advanced guard was posted on a hill south-east of Vimeiro, to cover the commissariat and stores which were in the village: this height was entirely commanded by higher ground to the westward. The cavalry and the reserve of artillery were in the valley, between the hills on which the infantry were placed; and there were picquets of observation on the hills to the eastward.
♦Aug. 21.♦
The enemy, who had marched all night, and whom some accidents had impeded on their way, first appeared at eight in the morning, forming in strong bodies upon the heights toward Lourinham, thus threatening the advanced guard and the left, which was the weak part of the British position. Sir Arthur had visited the advanced posts early in the day, and had returned to his quarters before the first shots were exchanged with the enemy’s advance. He now moved the brigades of Generals Ferguson, Nightingale, Acland, and Bowes, successively across the ravine to the heights on the Lourinham road. General Anstruther’s brigade took post on the right of the advanced guard, and Major-General Hill was moved nearer, as a support to these troops, and as a reserve, in addition to which our small cavalry force was in the rear of their right. The French army was in two divisions, ... the right, of about 6000 men, under General Loison; the left, about 5000, under Laborde. Kellermann had the reserve, which was intended to connect the two wings, but they were too distant from each other. General Margaron commanded the cavalry.
Laborde came along the valley to attack the advanced guard on the eminence or table hill; he had a column of infantry and cavalry to cover his left flank, and on his right one regiment marched in column to turn the defenders, and penetrate the village by the church; but this purpose had been foreseen, and part of the 43rd had been ordered into the churchyard to prevent it. The French advanced with perfect steadiness, though exposed to a severe fire of riflemen posted behind the trees and banks, and of seven pieces of artillery well directed. They advanced like men accustomed to action and to victory; but suffering more severely as they drew nearer, and especially from the Shrapnell shells, (then first brought into use,) they faltered, and opened a confused fire. Still they advanced, and arrived within a few paces of the brow of the hill, where the 50th regiment, under Colonel Walker, with a single company of the rifle corps on its left, stood opposed to them. That regiment poured upon them a destructive volley, and instantly charged with the bayonet, and penetrated the angle of the column, which then broke and turned. The regiment which was entering the village by the church, was attacked in flank by General Acland’s brigade, then advancing to its position on the heights; and our cavalry, poor in number as it was, charged with effect. The discomfiture of this column was then complete; they fled, leaving about 1000 men on the ground, 350 prisoners, and seven pieces of artillery; and they were pursued for nearly two miles to the plain beyond the woody ground, where they were supported by a reserve of horse, and where Lieutenant-Colonel Taylor, of the 20th light dragoons, who particularly distinguished himself that day, fell, with many of his men, overpowered by a much superior force of cavalry. The secondary column, under General Brenier, which was to have supported Laborde in his attack, made a side movement to the left, in order to cross the ravine, and thus it was separately engaged by General Anstruther’s brigade; and being charged with the bayonet, was repulsed with great loss. An aide-de-camp of Sir Arthur’s coming up to tell this General that a corps should be sent to his assistance, he replied, “Sir, I am not pressed, and I want no assistance; I am beating the French, and am able to beat them wherever I find them.”
Loison’s attack was made nearly at the same time as Laborde’s: it was supported by a large body of cavalry, and made with the characteristic and imposing impetuosity of French troops. They drove in our light troops, but they were checked by General Ferguson’s brigade, consisting of the 36th, 40th, and 71st, which formed the first line; after some close and heavy firing of musketry, the 82d and 29th came up, and the brigades of Generals Bowes and Acland. The enemy were then charged with the bayonet; this weapon is of French invention, but it was made for British hands. They came to the charge bravely, and stood it for a moment; ... in that moment their foremost rank fell “like a line of grass before the mowers.” This is not the flourish of an historian, seeking artfully to embellish details which no art can render interesting to any but military readers; it is the language of an actor in the scene, who could not call it to mind in after-hours without shuddering; for the very men whose superiority was thus decidedly proved, could not speak without involuntary awe, of so complete and instantaneous a destruction, produced as it was, not by artillery or explosions, but by their own act and deed, and the strength of their own hearts and hands. The bodies of about 300 French grenadiers were counted upon the field, who had fallen in this charge. The enemy were pursued to a considerable distance, and six pieces of cannon were taken in the pursuit. General Kellermann made a vigorous attempt, late in the action, to recover these from the 71st and 82d, which were halted in a valley where the guns had been captured. These regiments retired a little way to some advantageous ground, then faced about, fired, and advancing with the bayonet, drove the French back with great loss. Thus were they every where repulsed, though their whole force had been engaged, while not more than half the British army had been brought into action.
♦Sir Harry Burrard takes the command.♦
Before the action began Sir Harry Burrard and his staff left the ship; they soon heard the firing after they were on shore, and by the time they reached Vimeiro, which is about three miles from the landing-place, the armies were hotly engaged. They found Sir Arthur on the heights, and he explained in few words to the new Commander the position of the army, and the measures which he had taken for beating the enemy. Sir Harry was perfectly satisfied, and directed him to go on with an operation which he had so happily and so well begun. This he did not as giving up his command for the time, but as fulfilling one of the functions of a commander, by directing Sir Arthur to pursue measures which he approved, and holding himself as responsible for the event as if the plan had been originally his own. So far all was well. Toward the close of the action, when the French were beaten on the left, and it was evident that they must be every where defeated, Sir Arthur went to him, and represented that this was the moment for advancing; that he ought to move the right wing to Torres Vedras, and pursue the beaten enemy with the left. By this movement upon Torres Vedras, the French would be cut off from the nearest road to Lisbon, or if they attempted it, they would find themselves between two bodies of our troops; there remained for them, as the alternative, the circuitous route by Alenquer and Villa Franca; ... they were dispirited, beaten, and in confusion, absolutely, in his opinion, incapable of forming or of appearing again in the shape of an army, if they were followed even at a slower rate by a victorious enemy; and this he said, giving them full credit for discipline and great facility in forming after having been broken. There was plenty of ammunition in the camp for another battle, and provisions for twelve days. But neither these representations, urged as they were with natural and fitting warmth, nor the victory which was before his eyes, could induce the new Commander to deviate from his former opinion. He replied, that he saw no reason to change his purpose, and that the same motives which induced him yesterday to wait for reinforcements, had still the same weight. At this moment the enemy were retiring in great disorder, and most completely disheartened by their defeat. Sir Arthur, grieved at seeing the irrecoverable opportunity go by, made a second attempt to convince the Commander that victory was in his hands. General Ferguson had sent his aide-de-camp to represent the great advantage of advancing, ... he himself could, in fact, have cut off a considerable body of the enemy. Sir Arthur took the aide-de-camp to the Commander. But this second representation was as ineffectual as the first. His Adjutant-General, Brigadier-General Clinton, and Colonel Murray, his Quarter-Master-General, who had coincided in opinion with him the preceding evening, agreed with him now also. He had just heard from an officer who had passed through General Freire’s troops, such an account of them and their proceedings, as precluded any hope of rendering them useful; the artillery horses seemed to him inefficient; but more especially the want of cavalry, he thought, incapacitated the army from following up its success. The 260 Portugueze horse which were with us had shown themselves nearly useless; the British were only 210 in number, and they had suffered severely in the action, ... this was known, though the extent of their loss had not yet been ascertained. These difficulties preponderated with him; he adhered still to his determination; and Sir Arthur, whose sense of military duty would not allow him to act in disregard of orders, as Nelson was accustomed to do, turned to one of his officers, and concealing the bitterness of disappointment under a semblance of levity, said, “Well, then, we have nothing to do, but to go and shoot red-legged partridges,” ... the game with which that country abounds. From that moment he gave up all hope of cutting the French off from Lisbon, inclosing them there, or preventing them, if they thought proper to attempt it, from protracting the campaign by retreating upon Elvas and Almeida.
The loss of the enemy in this action was about 3000[26] killed and wounded, thirteen pieces of artillery, and twenty-three ammunition waggons; that of the English little more than 700 killed, wounded, and missing. The British numbers in the field were 16,000, of which only half had been engaged; the French were about 14,000, including 1300 cavalry, and the whole of this force was brought into action. General Solignac was severely wounded; General Brenier wounded, and left on the field. He was in danger of being put to death by those into whose hands he had fallen, when a Highlander, by name Mackay, who was a corporal in the 71st, came up and rescued him. The French General, in gratitude for his preservation, offered him his watch and purse; but Mackay refused to accept them. When he had delivered his prisoner in safety to Colonel Pack, the French General could not help saying, “What sort of man is this? He has done me the greatest service, and yet refuses to take the only reward which I can at present offer him!” Brenier no doubt contrasted this with the conduct of his countrymen, in whose rapacities and cruelties, it appears by the testimony of the Portugueze, that he had no share; when, therefore, Colonel Pack replied, “We are British soldiers, sir, and not plunderers,” he must have deeply felt the disgrace which had been brought upon the French character. Mackay was immediately made a serjeant by Sir Arthur Wellesley’s express desire; and the Highland Society, at their next meeting, voted him a gold medal, with a suitable device and inscription. The piper to the grenadier company of the same regiment, Stewart was his name, received early in the action a dangerous wound in the thigh: he would not, however, be carried off the field, but, sitting down[27] where his comrades might hear him, he continued playing warlike airs till the end of the engagement. A handsome stand of Highland pipes, with an inscription commemorating the manner in which he had deserved the donation, was voted him by the Highland Society.
Most of the wounded French who fell into the conqueror’s hands were young, and of delicate appearance, ... apparently men whose lot would not have fallen in the army, under any other system than that of the conscription, though, having been forced into it, they had acquired the worst vices which have ever disgraced and degraded the profession of arms. They were dressed in long white linen coats and trowsers, their firelocks were about six inches longer in the barrel than ours, their bayonets about three shorter, the locks of their pieces much better finished, and the pans so constructed, that the powder was not liable to fall out, ... an accident which at that time often happened to ours. A chaplain of the British army, as he was endeavouring to render assistance to some of them, while under the surgeon’s hands, addressed himself to one in the language of commiseration, and uttered, at the same time, a natural expression of regret at the horrors of war: but the Frenchman fiercely answered him, with a mixture of pride and indignation, that he gloried in his wounds, and that war was the greatest happiness of life. During the whole day the armed peasantry prowled about the field, taking vengeance upon every wounded or straggling Frenchman whom they could find, for the manifold wrongs of their country, and the aggravated injuries which they had endured. So conscious indeed were the prisoners of the little mercy which they deserved at their hands, that they dreaded lest these men should break in upon them, and massacre them all; and a guard was stationed to protect them. The peasantry, however, passed the night in the field, carousing round a large fire, recounting to each other what they had done, and rejoicing over the day’s work.