Never was more heroism displayed than by the British regiments engaged in the murderous conflict of Albuera. The soldiers dropped by whole ranks, but never thought of turning. When a too ardent wish to succour those pressed upon the hill, induced Stewart to hurry Colborne’s brigade into action, without allowing it a momentary pause to halt and form,—and in the mist, that unluckily favoured the lancer charge, the companies were unexpectedly assailed,—though fighting at dreadful disadvantage, the men resisted to the last. Numbers perished by the lance-blade; but still the dead Poles, that were found intermingled with the fallen English, shewed that the gallant islanders had not died without exacting blood for blood.
The French exceeded the British by at least a thousand. Of their worst wounded, eight hundred were left upon the field. Their loss in superior officers, like that of the British, had been most severe—two generals having been killed, and three severely wounded.
To a victory both sides laid claim—the French resting theirs on the capture of some colours, the taking of a howitzer, with some five hundred prisoners whom they had secured unwounded. But the British kept the battle-ground; and though neither cannon nor eagle remained with them, a field covered with carcases, and heaped with bleeding enemies, was the best trophy of their valour, and clearly established to whom conquest in reality belonged.
Much military controversy has arisen from the fight of Albuera—and Marshal Beresford has received some praise and more censure. Probably the battle should not have been fought at all; or, if it were unavoidable, greater care might have been bestowed in taking the position—and, certainly, the investment of Badajoz should not have been continued so long. Much, however, can be urged in favour of Marshal Beresford—for his was a most embarrassing command, and he had numerous and unexpected difficulties to contend with. Opposed to him was one of the ablest of Napoleon’s generals, and an army formed of the finest matériel, complete in every arm, and under the orders of the best officers of France. How differently was his force constructed:—a small portion of the whole were British: on another part of it, the Portuguese, some fair reliance might be placed; but the half of his army were an ill-commanded and ill-disciplined force, half-starved, half-armed, worn down by fatigue, and beaten repeatedly by the very troops they were again obliged to encounter. Little dependence could be placed on such worthless levies—and still less on their stubborn commander. When the real attack of the French marshal was apparent to everybody, Blake, with proverbial obstinacy, refused to alter his formation until his clumsy battalions had not sufficient time to change their front, and the French columns were actually mounting the hill to attack him. This was bad enough, yet, after all, it was but an error of the head. But the man was radically worthless. When Beresford’s pickets had been established for the night, the British brigades were so miserably reduced, that they could not furnish men to carry off the wounded. In this wretched situation, when an enemy would have freely succoured him, Beresford despatched Hardinge to his ally, to beg him to lend assistance; and the brutal answer of the Spaniard was, “that each of the allied powers must take care of its own wounded;” and he declined extending the least relief to these heroic sufferers, who, by a prodigal expenditure of their blood, alone had saved his sluggish legions from extermination.
If Beresford’s judgment be open to censure, his personal intrepidity must be admitted and admired. No man could make greater exertions to retrieve the day when defeat appeared all but certain. When Stewart’s imprudence, in loosely bringing Colborne’s brigade into action, had occasioned it a loss only short of annihilation,—and the Spaniards, though they could not be induced to advance, fired without ceasing, with an English regiment in their front, Beresford actually seized an ensign and dragged him forward with the colours, hoping that these worthless troops would be inspirited to follow. Not a man stirred—and the standard-bearer, when the marshal’s grasp relaxed, instantly flew back to herd with his cold-blooded associates. In every change of the fight, and on every part of the field, Beresford was seen conspicuously; and whatever might have been his failing as a general, his bravery as a man should have commanded the respect of many who treated his arrangements with unsparing severity.
A painful night succeeded that sanguinary day. The moaning of the wounded and the groans of the dying were heard on every side; and it was to be dreaded that Soult, who had still fifteen thousand troops fit for action, would renew the battle. On the next day, however, three fresh British regiments joined the marshal by a forced march; and on the 18th, Soult retreated on the road of Solano, covered by the heavy cavalry of Lautour Maubourg. He had previously despatched such of his wounded as could bear removal towards Seville, leaving the remainder to the generous protection of the British commander.[146]
Badajoz was partially blockaded on the 19th, by the Portuguese, under General Hamilton. On the second day after, Lord Wellington arrived, and ordered up the third and seventh divisions to complete the investment of that important fortress. Soult continued retreating, and Beresford followed him, by order of the allied commander.
SIEGE OF BADAJOZ, AND AFFAIR OF EL BODON.
Badajoz besieged.—Castle breached and unsuccessfully assaulted.—A second attempt fails.—Siege raised.—French advance.—Badajoz relieved.—Montbrun attacks the allies.—Affair of El Bodon.—Wellington’s dangerous situation.—He retreats on the Coa—Offers battle there, which Soult and Marmont decline.—French retire.