That brought matters to a point. Napoleon had expected, as a matter of course, that Moore would retreat so soon as the Spanish Armies melted away. What else could he do? Napoleon at this date had in Spain not less than 330,000 soldiers, 60,000 horses, and 200 pieces of field artillery. Moore had with him less than 24,000 soldiers, and perhaps another 10,000 in Portugal, including 4,000 in hospital.
Then, to Napoleon’s unbounded amazement, he learnt—getting the news on December 21—that, in place of retreating, the puny English force was boldly advancing towards the Douro.
The Emperor’s exclamation, as heard by Marshal Ney, and afterwards repeated by him to Major Charles Napier, was—
“Moore is the only General now fit to contend with me! I shall advance against him in person.”
That Sir John Moore had thoroughly grasped the situation, and that he understood to the full the perils of his position, may be seen from his own letters. As early as the 26th of November, he had written from Salamanca, in confidence, to one of his brothers—
“Upon entering Spain, I have found affairs in a very different state from what I expected, or from what they are thought to be in England. I am in a scrape, from which God knows how I am to extricate myself! But, instead of Salamanca, this Army should have been assembled at Seville.” And at the close of a full and clear statement of the whole matter—“I understand all is fear and confusion at Madrid. Tell James it is difficult to judge at a distance. The Spaniards have not shown themselves a wise or a provident people. Their wisdom is not a wisdom of action; but still they are a fine people; a character of their own, quite distinct from other nations; and much might have been done with them. Perhaps they may rouse again. Pray for me, that I may make right decisions. If I make bad ones, it will not be for want of consideration. I sleep little. It is now only five in the morning; and I have concluded, since I got up, this long letter.”
The whole letter is very patient and calm; and especially touching are those simple words, “Pray for me,” from a man so intensely reserved on religious questions. If words are needed to show what he was, besides the plain utterance of such a character and life as his, these alone would serve to make clear that silence on his part meant neither lack of thought nor lack of feeling.
Again, on the 23rd of December, he wrote to the British Envoy in Spain—“I march this night to Carrion, and the next day to Saldana, to attack the corps under Marshal Soult.... Buonaparte is dating his proclamations from Madrid; and as to the British Army, if it were in a neutral or Enemy’s country, it could not be more completely left to itself. If the Spaniards are enthusiasts, or much interested in this cause, their conduct is the most extraordinary that ever was exhibited. The movement I am making is of the most dangerous kind. I not only risk to be surrounded every moment by superior forces, but to have my communication intercepted with the Galicias. I wish it to be apparent to the whole world, as it is to every individual of the Army, that we have done everything in our power in support of the Spanish cause; and that we do not abandon it until long after the Spaniards had abandoned us.”
Buonaparte seldom did things by halves; and he acted now with even more than his usual energy.
The force and genius of this English Commander, by whom he was so daringly opposed, had suddenly burst upon him; and he at once realised that no ordinary effort on his part would ensure to him the victory. To oppose Moore’s twenty-three thousand men with only another twenty-eight or thirty thousand was not to be thought of. That might mean disaster.