Amongst the many great services performed by the Peninsular War was raising the character of the British soldier from a very low to a very high standard in the national estimation. The plays of Wycherley, Congreve, Vanbrugh, and Mrs. Centlivre, the tales of Fielding, Smollett, and Defoe, and the graver essays of Dr. Johnson, sufficiently demonstrate that in the time of those writers military men were held in the lowest esteem. The conquerors of Blenheim and of the Heights of Abraham were currently regarded as debauchees, cutthroats, and dishonest adventurers, and where a more gentlemanly exterior was exhibited, it was commonly united to the silliest foppery. Such from the Restoration to the end of the last century was the common character even of the officers of our army, and the ruffianly brutality of Ensign Northerton towards Tom Jones was perfectly characteristic in an age when undoubtedly it was too true that pimping too often obtained commissions, and it was an accurate general description to say of any chance-met couple of officers that “one had been bred under an attorney, and the other was son to the wife of a nobleman’s butler.” (History of a Foundling, book vii. c. 12). Though there were undoubtedly many officers then of a far superior class, still the high tone of chivalrous honour in our army, and the general refinement and accomplishment of character, belong to the present century. It is the great praise of the British private soldier that his stubborn will and indomitable energy, his cheerful discipline and unflinching valour, carry him through the most brilliant exploits to a success almost miraculously uniform, without any of those tangible hopes of promotion which inspire the continental soldier. Such noble and manful discharge of duty appears to merit some more adequate reward than the possible working of a miracle which may raise him from the ranks.
Wellington, in his admirable Despatches, says of the army with which he won these Pyrenean victories: “I think I could do any thing with them.” The resemblance of many portions of these remarkable compositions to those of Cæsar has been more than once pointed out; but the striking coincidence in the present instance has never, I believe, before been noticed: “Non animadvertebatis,” says Cæsar, likewise speaking of the exploits of his Peninsular veterans, “decem habere legiones populum Romanum, quæ non solùm vobis obsistere, sed etiam cœlum diruere possent.” De Bello Hispanico, § ult. Even the number of veterans under the command of the ancient and the modern General was nearly the same.
Indomitable energy and hearty courage are an old strain in the English blood. They are thus attested by Cromwell:—“Indeed we never find our men so cheerful as when there is work to do.” Carlyle, Letters and Speeches of Oliver Cromwell, Supplement. That no specific decoration has yet been accorded to our Peninsular veterans appears a most amazing oversight.
The courage displayed in our Peninsular sieges was of the highest order. There can be no question that, since the commencement of the world, no military daring, no dauntless valour, has been witnessed, Greek or Roman, Saracenic or Chivalrous, to exceed—perhaps none to equal, that of our storming parties at Ciudad Rodrigo, Badajoz, and San Sebastian. But it is very doubtful whether human life was not unnecessarily squandered, and whether the fire of the besieged should not have been silenced, and their defences in the first instance destroyed. This opinion seems now to be generally maintained both by engineer officers and by experienced officers of the army. The dictum of the great master of the art of fortification is in one respect vindicated, though in another it has been broken down by British heroism: “La précipitation dans les sièges ne hâte point la prise des places, la retarde souvent, et ensanglante toujours la scène.” Vauban, Maximes. General Foy, who sometimes emancipates himself from his prejudices against England, and is often candid, while he praises the courage of our men, says that it was needlessly expended, and that the taking of fortified places by the rules of art is reduced to a mathematical problem. But the bravery of our troops is still unquestionable. “On eût dit que les ingénieurs étaient là seulement pour construire les places d’armes desquelles s’élanceraient les troupes destinées a l’assaut ou à l’escalade; et encore eût-on pu à la rigueur, avec des soldats si déterminés, se passer de leur ministère.” Foy, Hist. Guerre Pénins. liv. ii. I must transcribe his testimony as to the conduct of our officers: “L’officier anglais conduisait les troupes au feu sans effort, et avec une bravoure admirable. * * La gloire de l’armée britannique lui vient avant tout de son excellente discipline et de la bravoure calme et franche de la nation.” But Foy adds a stigma which these sieges affixed to our army, and these sieges alone in all our Peninsular campaigns, and the impartiality which I am determined to preserve, and from which in some years to come I am convinced not the slightest departure will be tolerated, requires that it be rigorously unveiled for the reprobation of a more enlightened age:—“Une fois sortis de la discipline, les soldats anglais se livrent à des excès qui étonneraient les Cosaques; ils s’enivrent dès qu’ils le peuvent, et leur ivresse est froide, apathique, anéantissante.” Humanity shudders at the brutalities perpetrated by our soldiers at Badajoz and San Sebastian.
It was not without much reason that the general opinion throughout Europe attributed the extraordinary successes of the revolutionary armies of France to the admirable arrangement of the light infantry service. Napoléon may be said to have created the corps of voltigeurs and tirailleurs, upon which model were subsequently formed the Carabineers and Rifles of the British service, and the Caçadores of Spain and Portugal. The Prussian General Bulow in 1795, stated his opinion that “l’emploi de l’infanterie légère est le dernier perfectionnement de la guerre, et qu’à la rigueur on pourrait désormais se passer d’infanterie de ligne dans les armées!” Esprit du Système de Guerre moderne, par un ancien officier prussien. We may laugh at the extravagant absurdity of the latter part of this statement, but it shows the effect which Napoléon’s new system had produced. An opinion nearly similar prevailed about the same time in England. “The continent has been subdued by the French tirailleurs, and battles are sought to be won by killing one after another the officers of the enemy’s army.” Letter to a General-Officer on the Establishment of Rifle Corps in the British Army. By Col. Robinson. These rifle corps were established, and became eminently successful, being detached in companies to the different infantry brigades. The coolness, however, of our ordinary infantry skirmishers in the Peninsula rendered an extensive introduction of rifle corps unnecessary.
The rifle, as used in modern warfare, is the most terrible because most treacherous of weapons. It would have fallen especially under the ban of the Bayards and Montlucs of the sixteenth century, who chivalrously deprecated the use even of the common firelock, and formed vows worthy of Don Quixote, “pour qu’on abandonnât l’usage de ces armes traîtresses au moyen desquelles un lâche, tapi derrière un buisson, donne la mort au brave qu’il n’aurait pas regardé en face!”
Colonel H. A. Dillon says that for what the French call le moral d’une armée he can find no equivalent in the English language, and must explain his thought by paraphrase. He defines this moral to be the liveliest courage produced by the purest patriotism. Commentary on the Military Establishments and Defences of the British Empire, vol. i. This moral the French lost by their repeated defeats in the Peninsula, and by the conviction forced on them that even the Pyrenees were no longer a barrier. Napoléon placed in le moral three fourths of the power of an army. Celerity of movement was the principal secret of the early French successes, and of this the rapid marching of the French soldier and his wonderful power of sustaining fatigue were the main elements. The French soldier is small of stature, as General Foy himself confesses, but he marches quick and long, and this the General in great part attributes to the French eating much more bread than any other European troops: “Les soldats qui mangent le plus de pain et le moins de viande sont en général plus musculeux, et marchent plus vite et plus long temps que les autres. * * Le Français a besoin en campagne de deux livres de pain par jour.”—Foy, Hist. Guerre Pénins. liv. i.
The astonishing developement which Napoléon gave to the infantry service has been dwelt on by more than one writer. “L’infanterie française, cette nation des camps,” says De Barante, Des Communes et de l’Aristocratie. Napoléon gave to this arm a power and vigour to which it was before a stranger. “Napoléon augmenta le bataillon d’infanterie d’une autre compagnie d’élite, les voltigeurs. Ce fut une idée heureuse que de rehausser dans l’estime publique les hommes de petite taille, qui en général sont les plus intelligens et les plus alertes.” (Foy, Hist. Guerre Pénins.) The consummation of the Emperor’s gigantic views was found in the Imperial Guard. “La garde impériale représentait la gloire de l’armée et la majesté de l’empire. On choisissait les officiers et les soldats parmi ceux que les braves avaient signalés comme les plus braves: tous étaient couverts de cicatrices.”—(Foy, Hist. Guerre Pénins. liv. i.) Napoléon after the battle of Marengo called them his “granite column.” At the height of his power his Imperial Guard consisted of 68 battalions, 31 squadrons, and 80 pieces of artillery—in itself a powerful army. Never will the exclamation of these devoted men on the field of Waterloo be forgotten: “La garde meurt et ne se rend pas!”
The peculiar constitution of the French grenadier corps is likewise to be remarked. These bodies were the combined excerpts of all the best men from every regiment. “L’éclat et la prééminence des grenadiers Français * * l’usage de réunir tous ceux d’une ou de plusieurs brigades pour tenter des actions de vigueur.” (Foy, Hist. Guerre Pénins., liv. ii.) To these we never opposed more than our average regimental forces, and their picked men were for the most part overcome by our rank and file. What this rank and file was composed of let the following passage attest. “Les Anglais n’escaladent pas la montagne et n’effleurent pas la plaine, lestes et rapides comme les Français; mais ils sont plus silencieux, plus calmes, plus obéissants; pour ce motif leurs feux sont plus assurés et plus meurtriers.” (Foy, Hist. Guerre Pénins., liv. ii.) Such is the brilliant testimony to the merits of the British soldier by one of Napoléon’s own Generals. Our footmen are still the sturdy yeomen who accomplished such marvels at Crecy. If in a state little removed from brute ignorance they have done such wonders, what may be expected from them in the not far distant day, when they shall become elevated by education to a more fitting standard? Splendid as our horses are, and our dragoons both heavy and light, the strength of our army will be always in its powerful infantry, in their steady fire, indomitable endurance, and incomparable use of the bayonet. These are the robur peditum, like the triarii of the Roman legions, who were chosen from the strongest men, and ever fought on foot. It was remarked that in moments of peril they set their limbs so strongly, that their knees were somewhat bowed (precisely like our modern pugilists), as if they would rather die than remove from their places; and it passed into a proverb, when a thing came to extremity: “ad triarios res venit.”