Both armies were in the highest state of efficiency—for to both the undivided attention of their commanding officers had been directed—and yet in their respective equipments, a practised eye would detect a marked dissimilarity. With the British every thing was simple, compact, and limited, as far as its being serviceable would admit,—while the French were sadly incumbered with useless equipages and accumulated plunder. Those of the Spanish noblesse who had acknowledged the usurper, now accompanied his retreat,—state functionaries, in court-dresses and rich embroidery, were mingled with the troops,—calashes, carrying wives or mistresses, moved between brigades of guns; while nuns from Castile and ladies from Andalusia, attired en militaire and mounted on horseback, deserted castle and convent, to follow the fortunes of some soldier or employé. Excepting that of his great brother when retreating from Moscow, no army since the days of Xerxes, was so overloaded with spoil and baggage as that of Joseph Buonaparte.
Although this abuse had not escaped the observation of many of the best officers in the army of the usurper, the facility with which these enormous ambulances were transported encouraged rather than repressed the evil. Looking on Spain as a conquered country, the means necessary to forward their convoys were unscrupulously seized—and every horse and mule was considered the property of the finder. The roads were good—the retreat unmolested—on the 10th, no enemy had appeared—and the allies were remaining quietly in their quarters. The fancied apathy of the English general was extraordinary—and prisoners were asked by their French escort, “Was Lord Wellington asleep?”
But nothing could exceed the astonishment of Joseph, when, on the evening of the 18th, he was informed that the allies in considerable force, were actually on the left bank of the Ebro! The French dispositions were rendered useless, and an immediate night-march became unavoidable. The drums beat to arms—the baggage was put in motion—and the entire of the French corps which had occupied Pancorbo or bivouacked in its vicinity, were hastily collected, and moved rapidly towards Vitoria.
Lord Wellington’s sudden advance was equally brilliant in conception and execution. While he had thrown five divisions over the Douro, to move through the Tras as Montes, upon Zamora, Hill was marching over the mountain district of Estremadura on the Tormes, and Lord Wellington on Salamanca, with two Anglo-Portuguese, a Spanish division, and a strong cavalry corps. The right wing of the allies took a position between the Tormes and the Douro—while Sir Thomas Graham, with the left, passed over a most difficult country, and surmounting every obstacle that bad roads and dangerous rivers could present, threatened the right of the French by Carvajales and Miranda.
On gaining the frontier, Graham secured his communication with the Gallician corps under Giron. The French retired, from the Esla, and the left wing of the British crossed it on the 31st of May. A difficult and defensible river was thus safely passed—and the enemy retreated, after blowing up the bridges of Zamora and Toro. At Morales, the French rear-guard, was overtaken and brought to action. Colonel Grant, with the hussar brigade, completely overthrew it,—killing a considerable number and capturing above two hundred men. Julian Sanchez was equally successful—he having surprised a French picket at Castronuno.
No movements executed during the Peninsular campaign exceeded in brilliant effect the rapid advance of the allied army from the Douro to the Bayas. Joseph had been obliged to abandon the capital, and fall back on Burgos. This was a necessary measure to ensure a concentration of his corps d’armée,—but still, it was considered doubtful whether Lord Wellington would continue his onward march, and under all circumstances, actually become assailant.
But the French leaders were astray when they fancied that the allied general would remain inactive. Quickly as the Douro had been crossed, the Carrion and the Pisuerga were as rapidly passed over. The enemy fell back on Burgos to concentrate, having occupied the heights above Harmoza with a strong corps. On the 12th, Hill’s division and the cavalry obliged Count Reille to fall back—and on the next morning the French retreated on Miranda, after abandoning Burgos and blowing up the castle.[217]
“It can hardly be imagined what additional interest even a brilliant operation will acquire from local circumstances, and the character of the country through which the line of march runs. The advance to the Zadorra exhibited, at every point of view, scenery beautiful as diversified. In it there was a singular combination of romantic wildness mingled with exquisite fertility. One while the columns moved through luxurious valleys, intersprinkled with hamlets, vineyards, and flower-gardens; at another, they struggled up mountain ridges, or pressed through alpine passes overhung with topping cliffs, making it almost difficult to decide, whether the rugged chasm which they were traversing had been rifted from the hill-side by an earthquake, or scarped by human hands. If the eye turned downwards, there lay sparkling rivers and sunny dells; above rose naked rocks and splintered precipices; while moving masses of glittering soldiery, now lost, now seen, amid the windings of the route, gave a panoramic character to the whole, that never can fade from the memory of him who saw it.”[218]
Pancorbo had been regularly garrisoned; and to force the Ebro, with a numerous and efficient army occupying its banks, would have been equally tedious in operation, and uncertain in results. Wellington, with admirable skill, suddenly branched to his left, and moved rapidly towards the sources of the river; and, on the 14th and 15th, crossed it safely by the mountain bridges of San Martin and Puente de Arenas. Of course, the march, from the nearly impassable character of the line of country over which it ran, required the determination and esprit of British soldiers to accomplish. It was gallantly achieved; and that too, by a route hitherto unattempted by an army, and which every where presented the most formidable positions that a retreating corps could wish to hold. Yet Wellington’s march was unopposed,—and until the 18th, no hostile collision interrupted the order of the allied movements.
Two French brigades were overtaken by the light division. They had taken a position on the heights of Saint Milan; and although the ground was most unfavourable for an attack, nothing could surpass the dashing gallantry with which the British light troops assailed the enemy. The road by which it was necessary to attack, was rugged, steep, and narrow, overhung with crags and copse-wood; while a mountain stream protected the French front, and some straggling cottages increased the difficulty of advancing, by affording good cover to the voltigeurs formed behind them. After a sharp fusilade, the enemy gave ground, and the light brigade was pressing forward, when suddenly, a fresh column debouched from a ravine, and appeared on the flank of the assailants. Both rushed on to gain the crest of the hill—and both reached the plateau together. The 52nd, bringing their left flank forward in a run, faced sharply round, and charged with the bayonet. The conflict was but momentary; the French broke, threw away their knapsacks, and fled to gain the neighbouring high grounds, leaving their arms and baggage, and nearly three hundred of their number hors de combat.