SECTION IV: CHAPTER III

VIMIERO

Junot much disliked leaving Lisbon: he greatly enjoyed his viceregal state, and was so convinced that to retain the capital was equivalent to dominating the whole of Portugal[212], that he attached an exaggerated importance to his hold on the place, and was very reluctant to cut down its garrison. But it was clearly necessary to support Delaborde and Loison, and at last he took his departure. As a preliminary precaution he resolved to deal a blow at the Alemtejo insurgents, who, emboldened by Loison’s retreat, were creeping nearer to the mouth of the Tagus, and showing themselves opposite Setuval. On August 11, five days after Delaborde had marched off, General Kellermann was sent out with two battalions and a few dragoons to drive off these hovering bands, a task which he executed with ease, giving them a thorough beating at Alcacer do Sal. Having cleared this flank Junot evacuated Setuval and his other outlying posts beyond the Tagus, and only retained garrisons at Forts Bugio and Trafaria, which command the entrance of the river, and on the heights of Almada, which face Lisbon across the ‘Mar de Palio.’ He put in a state of defence the old citadel which crowns the highest of the seven hills on which the city is built, and established a battalion in each of the suburban villages of Belem and Saccavem, another in Fort San Julian at the mouth of the Tagus, and two at Cascaes, in the batteries which command the only point where a disembarkation from the side of the Atlantic is barely possible. This excess of precaution was largely due to the fact that a small English convoy of transports, carrying the 3rd Regiment (the Buffs) from Madeira, had been seen off the mouth of the Tagus. The duke feared that this portended an attempt to throw troops ashore in the immediate vicinity of the capital, when he should have gone off to meet Wellesley.

Altogether Junot left seven battalions, not less than 6,500 men, in Lisbon and the neighbouring forts, a much greater number than[p. 243] was really required, for, as Napoleon afterwards observed, capitals wait, before declaring themselves, for events outside to cast their shadows before[213]. Knowing that a decisive blow given to the English would be the best way to keep the city quiet, the Duke of Abrantes would have been wise to cut down his garrisons round Lisbon to 3,000 men, however great the risk, and take every available man to meet Wellesley[214]. It is probable that his error,[p. 244] which no French general would have committed at a later period of the war, was due to that tendency to despise the fighting power of the British which was prevalent on the Continent all through the early years of the century.

Not the least of Junot’s troubles was the obstinate torpidity of the Russian admiral, Siniavin, whose 6,000 seamen and marines might have taken over the whole charge of Lisbon, if only their commander had been willing. The Russian had refused to take part in the war as long as only Portuguese were in the field, on the plea that his master had never declared war on the Prince-Regent or recognized the French annexation. But when the British had landed, Junot hoped to move him to action, for there was no doubt that Russia and the United Kingdom were technically at war. The Duke of Abrantes first tried to induce Siniavin to put out from the Tagus, to fall upon scattered British convoys, and to distract the attention of the blockading squadron under Cotton. But the reply that to sally forth into the Atlantic would probably mean destruction in two days by the British fleet was too rational to be overruled. Then Junot proposed that Siniavin should at least take charge of the pontoons containing the captive Spanish division of Caraffa: but this too was denied him, and he had to leave a battalion of Graindorge’s brigade to mount guard on the prisoners[215]. The Russians were perfectly useless to Junot, except in so far as their guns helped to overawe Lisbon, and presented a show of force to deter British vessels from trying to force the passage of the forts at the mouth of the Tagus. The fact was that Siniavin was not so much stupid as disaffected: he belonged to the party in Russia which was opposed to France, and he had perhaps received a hint from home that he was not expected to show too much zeal in supporting the projects of Napoleon.

On the night of August 15, Junot marched out of Lisbon at the head of his reserve, a very small force consisting of a battalion of the 82nd of the line, one of the two regiments of grenadiers, which he had created by concentrating the grenadier companies of the eighteen line battalions in his army[216], the 3rd provisional regiment[p. 245] of dragoons, a squadron of volunteer cavalry formed by the French inhabitants of Lisbon, and his reserve artillery—ten guns under General Taviel. He also took with him the reserve ammunition-train, a large convoy of food, and his military chest containing a million of francs in specie. On the morning of the seventeenth the troops had reached Villafranca, when a false report that the English were trying to land at Cascaes caused them to retrace their steps for some miles, and to lose half a day’s march. On learning that Lisbon and its neighbourhood were quiet, Junot returned to the front, and growing vexed at the slow march of the great convoy which the reserve was escorting, pushed on ahead, and joined Loison at Cercal. He heard the distant thunder of the guns at Roli?a in the afternoon, but was too far away to help Delaborde.

On the eighteenth Loison and Junot marched southward to Torres Vedras, and heard that Delaborde had fallen back so far that he was ten miles to their rear, at Montechique. He only came up to join them next day [August 19], and the reserve with its heavy convoy, much hampered by bad country roads in the Monte Junto hills, did not appear till the twentieth.

Junot had been much exercised in mind by the doubt whether Wellesley would march by the direct road on Lisbon through Torres Vedras and Montechique, or would continue to hug the shore by the longer route that passes by Vimiero and Mafra. Not knowing of the approach of Acland’s and Anstruther’s brigades, he was ignorant of the main fact which governed his adversary’s movements. But learning on the twentieth that the British were still keeping to the coast-road, by which they could in one more march turn his position at Torres Vedras, he determined to rush upon them with his united forces and give battle. At the last moment he resolved to draw a few more men from Lisbon, and called up a battalion of the 66th of the line, and another composed of four picked companies selected from the other corps of the garrison—a trifling reinforcement of 1,000 or 1,200 men, which arrived just too late for the fight at Vimiero.

The organization of the French army had been so much cut up by the numerous garrisons which Junot had thought fit to leave behind him, that although five of his six infantry brigades were more or less represented in his field-army, not one of them was complete. He accordingly recast the whole system, and arranged[p. 246] his force in two divisions under Delaborde and Loison, and a reserve brigade of Grenadiers under Kellermann. His cavalry on the other hand was intact: every one of the four regiments of Margaron’s division was present, and over and above them he had the squadron of French volunteers raised in Lisbon. He had also twenty-three guns: there should have been twenty-six, but Delaborde had lost three at Roli?a. The total of men present amounted to 10,300 foot and 2,000 horse, with 700 artillerymen and men of the military train[217], or about 13,000 in all.

[p. 247]

Hearing that Wellesley was stationary in Vimiero since the morning of the nineteenth, Junot determined to attack him at the[p. 248] earliest possible moment. He was ignorant that his adversary’s halt was due to the arrival of Anstruther and Acland, but knowing that more troops were expected from the sea he resolved to fight at once. The reserve and convoy joined him on the morning of the twentieth: the same night he marched under cover of the darkness and traversed the ten miles which separated him from the hostile position: at dawn he was close under it.

But Wellesley meanwhile had received his reinforcements, and was 4,000 men stronger than the Duke of Abrantes supposed. On the nineteenth Anstruther’s[218] brigade had accomplished its dangerous disembarkation, through the surf that beats upon the sandy shore north of the mouth of the Maceira. It had been a tedious business, many boats having been upset and some lives lost. On the afternoon of the twentieth the convoy that brought Acland’s brigade was got inshore, and the greater part of the men disembarked in the dusk in the actual mouth of the little river, and slept upon the beach. But some of them were still on shipboard on the morning of the twenty-first, and came too late for the battle of that day[219].

While covering this disembarkation Wellesley had taken up an excellent position on the heights of Vimiero, with the sea at his back. The surrounding country was pleasant, good water was forthcoming in abundance, and the neighbouring villages provided a considerable quantity of food. The region is both more fertile and better wooded than most of central Portugal. The only fault[p. 249] of the position was that it was one from which retreat would have been very difficult. But confident in himself and his men, and somewhat under-estimating the possible maximum of force that Junot could bring against him, Wellesley was thinking of nothing less than of retreat. If he had not been attacked on the twenty-first, he would himself have pushed on towards the enemy next day. He had now 16,778 British troops, besides Trant’s 2,000 Portuguese, and thought himself competent to cope with any force that Junot could collect.
Map of the battle of Vimiero

Enlarge  Battle of Vimiero. August 21, 1808.

The position of Vimiero consists of a well-marked line of heights sweeping from the north to the south-west, and cut through the centre by the narrow valley of the river Maceira, on which the village of Vimiero stands. The southern part of the range, which lies nearest the sea, is especially steep and formidable: the northern part, beyond the Maceira, is lower and broader: along its ridge runs a country road leading northward to Lourinh?o. But even here the position is very strong, for a ravine creeps along its eastern foot and acts as a sort of ditch to the broad ridge, or rather plateau, which the British army was holding. Its only accessible side is the north, where it sinks down into a rolling upland beyond the village of Ventosa. In the very centre of the position, well in front of the main ridge, just above the village of Vimiero, lies an isolated hill, well suited to serve as an outwork or first line of defence. It was partly occupied by vineyards and thickets, partly by open fields, and gave admirable cover for its defenders.

This hill Wellesley had chosen as the key of his position: on it were placed the two brigades of Fane and Anstruther, seven battalions in all. The high ridge running from behind it to the sea was held by the brigades of Hill, Bowes, Catlin Crawfurd, Nightingale, and Acland. That of Ferguson lay behind Vimiero, astride of the valley of the Maceira. Trant’s four battalions of Portuguese were near Ferguson, on the lower heights north of Vimiero, ready to act as a reserve to Fane and Anstruther. The handful of cavalry, 240 English and 260 Portuguese sabres, were in the low ground on the banks of the Maceira, close under Crawfurd’s position. Of the three batteries which Wellesley had been able to bring with him, six guns were on the projecting height with Anstruther, eight were on the high mountain south of Vimiero, and four were with the reserve.

[p. 250]

A glance at this order of battle shows that Wellesley expected to be attacked from the south, up the valley of the Maceira, and that he thought that the enemy’s plan would be to force his right-centre. Little or no provision is made against the plan which Junot actually adopted, that of assaulting the British left-centre and simultaneously turning their extreme left flank, while leaving the right unmolested. But the whole position was so short—it was less than three miles in length—that there was no difficulty in shifting troops rapidly from one end of it to the other, and, as the event showed, no risk whatever was run.

Wellesley was busy arranging his line of battle, when to his bitter disappointment he received the news that he was superseded, a calamity which he had been expecting to occur at any moment. Sir Harry Burrard had arrived from England at the tail of Acland’s convoy, and was now on board the sloop Brazen in Maceira Bay. Sir Arthur at once went off in a boat to greet him, and to give him an account of the condition in which affairs stood. Burrard heard him out, and then placed a strong embargo on any further offensive movement. He had learnt that Sir John Moore, with the division from the Baltic, was now off the Portuguese coast, and was resolved not to stir till those troops should have been landed. Being, as it seems, a leisurely sort of man, he resolved to sleep on board his ship for one night more, and to come ashore next morning—a resolve which cost him that chance of commanding a British army in a pitched battle which so many generals have in vain desired. Wellesley went back through the surf charged, for a short fifteen hours more, with the destinies of the army of Portugal[220].

[p. 251]

The French cavalry had been hovering around Vimiero all through the twentieth, and knowing that Junot was not far off,[p. 252] Sir Arthur had taken all precautions against being surprised. General Fane, in charge of the outposts, had pushed pickets of riflemen into the wooded heights that faced the British position on the northern bank of the Maceira[221]: vedettes of the 20th Light Dragoons were thrown out three or four miles to the front, and especially watched the Torres Vedras road. About midnight they began to hear the approach of the enemy; the rumbling of his guns and caissons over the wooden bridge of Villa Facaia travelled for miles through the still night air. In half an hour Wellesley was warned that the French were drawing near, and sent the order round all his brigades to be under arms and in line on their designated position an hour before daybreak[222].

But the enemy was late in appearing: Junot had halted on the near side of the bridge of Villa Facaia, four miles away, to rest his men after their night march and to allow them to cook their breakfast. It was not till nearly nine in the morning that dense clouds of dust rolling along the Torres Vedras road bore witness to the approach of the French. They were indistinctly visible, among woods and rolling upland, as they advanced with a broad front on each side of the village of Villa Facaia—a regiment of cavalry in front, then Loison on the left and Delaborde on the right side of the road, finally Kellermann’s grenadiers, the reserve of artillery, and the bulk of Margaron’s cavalry. The English were surprised to note that the columns showed as masses of dust colour, not of the customary dark blue. On account of the hot weather they had been provided with white linen frocks, and were wearing their uniform coats folded and buckled over their knapsacks[223].

Wellesley had been expecting to see the great column swerve to its left, and approach him along the valley of the Maceira, by Cunhados and Sobreiro Curvo. But instead of so doing Junot continued his progress northward, till he had completely marched past the English right wing, and only fronted and deployed when he had got on a level with Vimiero. After driving off the small[p. 253] pickets of English riflemen who still lay out in the woods a mile in front of Fane’s brigade[224], the French began to form a line of battle whose southern end was opposite Wellesley’s centre. But at the same time the cavalry advance-guard was noted riding far away to the north, toward Carrasqueira and Praganza, and it was clear that infantry were following them. Obviously there was going to be an attempt to turn the English position at its northern end, on the comparatively gentle slopes along the Lourinh?o road.

Junot after reconnoitring the British position in a somewhat perfunctory fashion, had resolved to leave alone the formidable heights occupied by the right wing, and to try to storm the low hill in front of Vimiero with his main body, while he turned Wellesley’s left with a secondary column. This detachment was composed of the 3rd provisional regiment of dragoons, and Brennier’s brigade, the same four battalions which had fought so handsomely at Roli?a. But the moment that Wellesley had seen that his right flank was safe, and that his left was about to be attacked, he rapidly changed his line of battle. Ferguson, from behind Vimiero, started to march north. Behind him followed three of the four brigades which had occupied the hills above the sea. Only Hill was still left on the crest to the south-west of Vimiero; Bowes, Nightingale, and Acland—six battalions in all, taking with them six guns—dropped down into the valley of the Maceira, crossed it behind Vimiero, and marched along the Lourinh?o road parallel with Brennier’s movement on the opposite side of the valley. In rear of these troops, and nearer the sea, Catlin Crawfurd and the Portuguese also moved northward, and took up a position near Ribamar, where they covered the flank of the other corps and were in a good position for preventing any movement of the French on the extreme north-west. Junot caught a glimpse of the extensive transference of troops to the left which his adversary was making, and struck with a sudden fear lest Brennier might be overwhelmed, sent off another brigade—Solignac’s of Loison’s division—to support him. He would have been much wiser had he kept these three battalions in hand to support his main attack, and merely directed Brennier to demonstrate against the British left without pressing his attack home. His last movement had divided his army into two halves, separated from each other by a gap of nearly two miles: for the main attack he had only kept eight and[p. 254] a quarter battalions, three regiments of cavalry and seventeen guns, while seven battalions, one regiment of cavalry, and six guns had gone off on the turning movement. How long their flank march was to be he had not calculated, for, not discerning the steepness of the ravine at the foot of the British position, he had not realized that Brennier and Solignac would have to take a vast sweep to the north in order to cross it. As a matter of fact they got completely out of touch with him and, what was worse, with each other. Their diversion did not begin till the main battle was nearly over[225].

Meanwhile the French general deployed the second brigades of his two divisions, Charlot’s of Loison’s, and Thomières’ of Delaborde’s, only four and a quarter battalions in all, as a first line for the attack on Vimiero. Kellermann’s four battalions of grenadiers in a second line were for the moment held back, as was the cavalry and the reserve artillery. But seven guns went forward with the first line. The French came on in their usual style, a thick line of tirailleurs, supported by battalion columns close in their rear. Fane and Anstruther were very comfortably placed for repelling the attack: the latter had drawn up the 52nd and 97th in line on the slope of the hill, partly hidden by a dip in the ground and largely covered by vines and brushwood: the 9th and 43rd were in open column to the rear, ready to act as a reserve. Fane had got most of the riflemen of the 60th and 95th out in front, at the foot of the hill, in a very thick skirmishing line: only a few companies of them were in reserve along with the 50th (the famous ‘dirty half-hundredth’) at the head of the slope. In consequence of the order which Junot had adopted, Thomières’ two battalions were opposed to Fane, and Charlot’s brigade to Anstruther on the southern half of the hill. In each quarter the course of the fight was much the same: the French tirailleurs pushed up the slope among the brushwood and vineyards, slowly driving the riflemen before them. Then, as they drew near the crest, the two English brigadiers suddenly let loose their formed battalions upon the assailants. There was one fierce volley from the six guns on the hill top, and then the 97th charged Charlot’s men in front, while the 52nd swerved round and took them in flank. One[p. 255] smashing discharge at ten paces blew to pieces the heads of the columns of the 32nd and 82nd, which crumpled up in hopeless disorder and rolled down to the foot of the hill, pursued by their assailants. A few moments later Fane dashed the 50th and the reserve companies of his rifles against Thomières’ troops, and sent them flying down the slope in equal disorder. They could not be rallied till they had got out of musketry range, and the seven guns which they had brought forward with them were all captured: Delaborde and Charlot were wounded: the commander of the 82nd was killed[226].

Junot’s first attack had failed, but his spirit was not yet broken: he called up half his reserve of grenadiers, two battalions under Colonel St. Clair, and sent them against the hill on the same point, while the débris of the two wrecked brigades were rallied and pushed forward in support. Eight guns under Foy (the historian in after-years of the war), were brought out from the artillery reserve and pushed to the front. The second attack, however, failed even more disastrously than the first: the grenadiers, attacking on a narrow front and a single point, were blown to pieces by the converging fire of the 52nd, the 97th, and Fane’s two rifle battalions, as well as by the battery on the hill, which having no longer any British skirmishers in front of it had a free field. It was here, as Wellesley’s dispatches show, that shrapnell shell, a recent invention of the British colonel of that name, was first used, and with the most effective results. St. Clair’s battalions climbed halfway up the hill, but could do no more, and finally gave way, bearing back with them their half-rallied supports. The fight was rolling down the slope into the pine-wood at its foot, when Junot made his last desperate stroke. His only infantry reserve was now the 1st Regiment of Grenadiers, two battalions under Colonel Maransin. He resolved to throw them into the fight pour en finir, as he said to his chief of the staff, but they ‘made a finish of it’ in a way very different from his intention. This time the assailants, led by General Kellermann in person, made not for the front of the hill, but for the gap between it and the heights to the north, trying to turn Fane’s flank and to penetrate into the village of Vimiero by coasting round the foot of the higher ground. There were at first[p. 256] no troops directly opposed to the column, but soon the grenadiers found themselves under fire from both flanks. On the southern side Anstruther took from his reserve the 43rd, which had not yet fired a shot, and threw it into the cemetery of Vimiero, from whence it descended on the left flank of the leading battalion of grenadiers. On the northern side a new force intervened: General Acland on the heights along the Lourinh?o road had been acting as the reserve of Wellesley’s left wing: he was not needed there, and seeing Kellermann’s attack threatening to break in between himself and Anstruther, took action on his own responsibility. Marching a little southward along the ridge, he sent his two companies of the 95th Rifles, and the light companies of his two line-battalions to fall on the right flank of the grenadiers. At the same time he turned upon them the fire of two field-guns which were in reserve near his brigade.

The double flank attack cost Kellermann many men, and brought his column to a standstill, but he held his ground for some time, till the 43rd closed in upon him at the eastern end of Vimiero village. Both French and English were in great disorder, the houses and enclosure-walls having broken up their formation. There was a furious hand-to-hand fight, volleys were interchanged at the distance of five yards, and both sides used the bayonet freely. At last the grenadiers gave way and retired sullenly towards their original position: they had lost many men, but so had the 43rd, who from a weak battalion of 700 men had forty killed and seventy-nine wounded.

All along the line the French were now falling back, and Junot brought up a regiment of dragoons to cover the retreat of the disordered masses. Wellesley now resolved to make use of his handful of cavalry: close behind Vimiero there were drawn up the 240 sabres of the 20th Light Dragoons, with 260 Portuguese horsemen in two squadrons on their flanks[227]. ‘Now, Twentieth, now is the time!’ cried Wellesley, lifting his cocked hat, and Colonel Taylor wheeled his regiment from behind the sheltering hill and dashed at the retreating Frenchmen. The two Portuguese squadrons started level with him, but after going a few hundred yards and receiving a shot or two, they broke, fell into disorder, and finally galloped to the rear amid the hoots of Anstruther’s[p. 257] brigade. But the 20th rode at the French dragoons who stood in their path, burst through them, and then plunged among the flying infantry, sabring them to right and left and taking many prisoners. They could not be stayed till they had hewn their way through the fugitives, to the place where Junot himself sat watching the rout of his men. The charge had been pushed beyond all reasonable bounds, for the men were mad with excitement and would not halt. But as they rode up the French hill they were checked by a stone wall, and at the same time charged by the two reserve regiments of Margaron’s horse. It was a wonder that the headstrong troopers were not annihilated, but the larger part returned in safety to the English lines, leaving behind them their colonel[228] and twenty men slain, twenty-four wounded, and eleven prisoners.

We must now turn to the northern part of the battle-field, where the main stress of the fighting did not begin till the engagement round Vimiero was nearly over. This was the result of the reckless way in which Junot had sent his flanking brigades to attack over unexplored ground. When Brennier reached the point at which he would naturally have wheeled inward to climb the slopes along the Lourinh?o road, he came upon the deep and rugged valley of Toledo, the steepness of whose slopes he did not realize till he had almost reached its brink. Having guns with him, the French brigadier thought the obstacle impassable, and turned northward again in a long sweep by the village of Carrasqueira, the 3rd Dragoons still heading his march. In this wide flanking movement he passed quite out of sight of the British.

But Solignac, with the second brigade which Junot had told off for the northern diversion, was not so cautious. He too came upon the ravine; but instead of turning it he sought out its least precipitous point and passed it near its head, underneath the farm of Ventosa. Having crossed, he deployed his three battalions, brought up his right shoulder, and ascended the gentle slope. By this movement he was devoting his brigade to destruction. On the hill above he could see only the thin line of British skirmishers, but[p. 258] hidden behind the crest was the main body of Wellesley’s right wing, the seven battalions of Ferguson, Nightingale, and Bowes. They had long watched the approach of the French, and were lying down in battle order. In front were Ferguson’s three regiments, the 36th, 40th, and 71st, and one of Nightingale’s, the 82nd. A couple of hundred yards to the rear was the second line, the 29th of Nightingale’s brigade, and the 6th and 32nd, which formed Bowes’ command. Acland and Catlin Crawfurd were a mile away in different directions, but not too far to have been called in if necessary.

When Solignac’s men reached the brow of the hill, the four British battalions in the front line rose up and marched to meet them. Their long array completely overlapped at both ends the advancing columns and their screen of light troops[229], At the distance of one hundred yards all the four regiments directed a converging volley on the French, which almost swept away the tirailleurs and shook terribly the supporting masses. Then they reloaded and advanced in silence on the enemy, who were shouting, firing irregularly, and endeavouring to deploy, with their officers all in front. For troops in such disorder the near approach of the majestic two-deep line of 3,300 bayonets was too much. They wavered and fled northward along the summit of the ridge, carrying with them their commander, Solignac, desperately wounded. The British pursued, halting at intervals to pour a volley into the retreating masses, and picking up on the way many prisoners, and also the three guns which the enemy had laboriously dragged up the hill.

The pursuit was stopped by an unexpected development. General Brennier had heard from afar the heavy musketry fire which told him that his supporting brigade was engaged. He was now on the summit of the heights, having at last accomplished his long flank march. Pushing hastily forward, he came to the edge of a saddle-backed depression in the ridge, and had the spectacle of the fight at his feet. The 36th and 40th were engaged in driving the wrecks of Solignac’s men back in a north-westerly direction, while the 71st and 82nd, halted around the captured guns, were resting and reforming their ranks. Without a moment’s hesitation, Brennier threw his four battalions upon the two regiments that[p. 259] lay beneath him. He had taken them by surprise; attacked diagonally by fresh troops, and charged by the two squadrons of dragoons that accompanied the French, they reeled back in some disorder and abandoned the guns that they had taken. But they rallied in a moment, and returned to the fight aided by the 29th[230], the reserve regiment of Nightingale’s brigade. There was heavy firing for a moment, but very soon Brennier’s troops broke and fled up the slope which they had just descended. Their flight was covered by the dragoons, who suffered severely in holding off the pursuers, losing many officers, among them the young Arrighi, a kinsman of the Bonaparte family. Brennier was left on the field wounded and a prisoner, and not only did his men lose the guns which they had just recaptured, but they also left behind the three which had accompanied their own column. Their hurried retreat was accelerated by the fire of a half-battery, brought up from the reserve, which played upon them with effect till they had plunged down into the ravine and regained their original position on the opposite heights.

All the fighting here had been done by Ferguson’s and Nightingale’s five battalions. Bowes’ brigade did not fire a shot or lose a man, and Catlin Crawfurd and the Portuguese were only beginning to approach the scene of action when Brennier’s column broke up and fled. The main honours of the fight must be given to the 71st and 82nd, who lost respectively 112 and 61 men out of the total of 272 casualties suffered in this part of the action.

Two and a half hours after the battle began the French, both in the north and the south of the field, were retiring in confusion. The British were awaiting eagerly the order for a general advance—especially Ferguson, who, with the 36th and 40th, had got part of Solignac’s brigade pinned into an angle of the hills, from which they could not easily escape when attacked. But instead of the order to advance there came a prohibition to move, and the French were allowed to withdraw unmolested. The stream of fugitives from Brennier’s and Solignac’s fight joined that from the centre; then both shook themselves together and formed up in more or less order on the heights. The reserve artillery under Hulot and Prost (Foy had been wounded) kept up a distant and ineffective fire towards the hill of Vimiero, more to put heart into their own[p. 260] infantry by the noise of their guns than in any hope of harming the English. Margaron’s cavalry showed a front behind them, and the two belated battalions from Lisbon, which arrived about noon, were sent to the front and displayed on the edge of the heights to make some show of force. But the French would not have stood a serious attack: every single unit of their infantry had been deeply engaged and had suffered a thorough defeat. More than half their guns (thirteen out of twenty-three) had been captured. The cavalry was in better case, though two of its regiments had suffered severely, yet it could not by itself have resisted the attack of the victorious British. A vigorous push would have sent the whole mass reeling backward, not on Torres Vedras or Lisbon—for these roads would have been barred to them when Wellesley advanced—but on the rugged path, over the spurs of the Sierra da Baragueda, which leads to Santarem.

But while the French were striving to rally and to form a new front, the leaden hand of Sir Harry Burrard was laid upon the British army. That leisurely person had only landed on the morning of the twenty-first, and the battle was in full progress before he rode up from the beach to Vimiero. He had the grace not to interfere with the movements of troops which Wellesley had already ordered; but when the victory was won, and his subordinate rode up to him crying, ‘Sir Harry, now is your time to advance, the enemy is completely beaten, and we shall be in Lisbon in three days[231],’ he refused to listen. The army, he said, had done enough for one day, and he intended to wait for the arrival of Sir John Moore and the division from the Baltic before making any further move. Greatly disconcerted by this stolid opposition, Wellesley launched forth into argument: the French army, as he pointed out, was now so placed that it had lost control of its line of retreat on Torres Vedras and Lisbon. Hill’s intact brigade, and those of Fane and Anstruther had but to advance a mile or so, and the French were irretrievably cut off from their base of operations. At the same time the five brigades of the left wing, of which those of Bowes and Crawfurd were absolutely intact, might so hustle and press the retreating enemy that he could never rally. At this moment arrived an aide-de-camp from Ferguson, who begged to be allowed to go on: ‘a column of broken troops 1,500 to 2,000 strong had in their confusion got into a hollow, and could be cut off from[p. 261] their main body by a movement in advance of his brigade[232].’ The enemy had lost all their artillery, were retiring in the utmost confusion, none of them save the cavalry were regularly formed, and it was his hope that he might be allowed to continue to go forward. Burrard still remained obdurate, though Wellesley pointed out to him that he had nine thousand fresh troops in hand, that every soldier had a day’s food cooked in his haversack, that the ammunition reserve was ready to move, and that, with twelve days’ provisions in the camp and an ample store of munitions, he had it in his power to march forward both rapidly and with complete security[233]. But all these arguments were of no effect. The slow and cautious Burrard chose to believe that Junot might still have a large and intact reserve, that his cavalry was too dangerous to be meddled with, and that the dispersion of the British brigades (there were more than three miles between Hill’s extreme right and Ferguson’s extreme left) would make a general advance a very dislocated and hazardous business[234]. He utterly refused to listen to any further discussion, and, as the French were now in full retreat and disappearing over the eastern horizon, ordered the troops back to camp. They returned with colours flying and bands playing, dragging the captured French guns, and with a considerable column of prisoners in their midst. But every one, from Generals Spencer and Ferguson down to the youngest private, was utterly puzzled at the tame and inconsequent end to such a glorious day.

The losses had been very moderate—four officers and 131 men killed, thirty-seven officers and 497 men wounded, two officers and forty-nine men missing. Of the total of 720 no less than 573 were from the ten battalions of Fane’s, Anstruther’s, and Ferguson’s brigades. Those of Hill, Bowes, and Catlin Crawfurd did not return a single casualty. The handful of prisoners were mainly supplied by the 20th Light Dragoons, and by the two rifle battalions, whose pickets had been driven in at the commencement of the fight[235]. The French losses were very different: both Foy[p. 262] and Thiébault acknowledge a total of 1,800, and this may be taken as a minimum: of these some 300 or 400 were unwounded prisoners. Delaborde and three brigadier-generals—Charlot, Brennier, and Solignac—as well as Colonels Foy and Prost of the artillery, were wounded. Two battalion commanders were killed, a third and the disabled Brennier were prisoners. Men and officers were alike disheartened: every single corps present had been engaged: even the squadron of volunteer cavalry had been in action against Taylor’s dragoons: more than half the guns had been lost, and the officers who brought back those that remained asked themselves in wonder how they had ever been permitted to get away[236]. But at least they were unmolested in their retreat: using the two battalions that had just come up from Lisbon as his rearguard, Junot retired unharmed, but full of despair, on Torres Vedras. It was not till early on the next morning that the last stragglers of his scattered army drifted in to join the main body.