Iberia Won 46

Iberia Won 46

Menas, Pompey’s freedman, and Augustus’s Tribune, a double and

impartial traitor, to whom this ode was addressed, was the Godoy of

ancient Rome.

 

The Massacre of Madrid on the memorable Second of May did not

happily involve so much bloodshed as for a long period had been

imagined. The exaggeration common to all countries in commemorating

their patriotic struggles, and especially so in the Peninsula, had

fully quadrupled the number of martyrs who fell upon that occasion.

Recent minute inquiries have confirmed the statement of Napier that

the entire number of the Madrid population slain in this massacre

did not exceed 200. The real name of the “Daïz” in the text was

Daoiz. The shootings subsequent to the street massacre took place,

as I have recorded them, under circumstances which in Spain were

necessarily regarded as of excessive atrocity, the denial of the

assistance of clergy, which by Frenchmen was lightly considered,

being in Spanish eyes the acmé of horrors. The supposed miraculous

appearances in the Northern provinces are derived from Foy’s

_History_.

 

For the circumstances of the rising which followed throughout Spain

the reader is referred to Napier and to Southey, whose description

of the Siege of Zaragoza I have followed because it is the more

poetical, although I cannot refrain from remarking that it is

disfigured by occasional passages of exaggeration and bombast not

altogether worthy of an historical work.

 

The state of political knowledge in Spain at the period of the

French invasion may be inferred from the character of the questions

treated by their publicists. An old Spanish political writer, held

in the greatest esteem down to that period, D. Diego Saavedra

Faxardo, formally discusses this thesis: Whether is it better for a

prince to delegate his authority to one or many? and concludes in

favour of delegation to a single person, for the following reason,

stated in his own words: “That the King is the image of the sun,

and when the sun disappears from the horizon, he leaves to one

only, the moon, and not to several, the care of presiding over the

night!” The political work from which this morçeau is extracted was

composed for the instruction of the Prince of the Asturias, who

afterwards became Carlos II. It was long the French system to keep

Spain in this state of pupillage. Choiseul, the ablest minister

of France during the 18th century, said that he was more certain

of his preponderance in the cabinet of Madrid than in that of

Versailles! He said this in the reign of Carlos III., the ablest of

the Spanish Bourbons. Up to the end of the last century, France was

the planet, and Spain the satellite.

 

The first era of the Peninsular campaigns comprised our two first

victories of Roriça and Vimieiro, more intrinsically glorious

perhaps, than any of their successors, but rendered futile in

their consequences by the mistaken generosity of concession which

characterized the Convention of Cintra.

 

The second period of the War was commenced by the battle of

Talavera, previously to which Wellington found the Spanish General

Cuesta equally unmanageable, stubborn, and foolishly arrogant, as

the Portuguese General showed himself on the eve of the battle

of Roriça which commenced the first period of the War. In both

cases the results were the same. After a great deal of vapouring

about “doing the business themselves and not needing British

assistance,” both worthies retired, leaving the sole and undivided

honour of each day to the genius and fortune of Wellington. In

the preliminary combat of Alcabon, the Spanish division (4,000

infantry, 2,000 horse, and 8 guns) scampered off from before the

French, and it was manifest that they could not be depended on.

Wellington was therefore determined that they should withdraw to

Talavera, where there was strong ground suited for defence, on

which alone the Spaniards were likely to make a stand. Cuesta

boastingly replied that “he would fight where he stood.” The 27th,

at daylight, the British General renewed his solicitations, at

first fruitlessly; but when the enemy’s cavalry came in sight,

Cuesta sullenly yielded, yet turning to his staff with frantic

pride observed that “he had first made the Englishman go down on

his knees!” (Napier, _Hist. W. P._ b. viii. c. 2.) In the next

preliminary combat of Salinas, the Spanish army to the number of

11,000 men (including artillery) threw down their arms, and ran

away, declaring that the Allies were entirely routed! It might

have been so but that their example was despised. Thus undivided

glory was thrust upon Wellington; and ever after the part which the

Spaniards took was very subordinate.

 

After the battle of Talavera, the Spaniards were shamefully

defeated (having regard to the truth of History it is impossible

to use any other __EXPRESSION__) by the French in two successive

actions--those of Arzobispo and Almonacid, at both of which they

threw down their arms and ran, and in the latter were slaughtered

in thousands--a result partly attributable to the bad conduct of

the men and partly to the bad guiding of their commander, Cuenca,

whose character was a concentration of all the worst possible

qualities of a General. “King” Joseph, who had retreated after the

battle of Baylen, now returned to Madrid. Embarrassed by these

disasters, by the perfidious withholding of supplies, by the

perpetual crossing and opposition of the Spanish juntas, which like

those of Portugal, instead of an aid, were for ever a thorn in the

side of their Liberator, Wellington, in the face of an overwhelming

French force, took the resolution of retiring into Portugal. The

conduct of the Spaniards may be best estimated from his own words,

stating his reasons for declining again to co-operate with them:

 

“But there was a more shameful consideration, namely, the constant

and shameful misbehaviour of the Spanish troops before the enemy.

We in England never hear of their defeats and flights, but I have

heard Spanish officers telling of nineteen or twenty actions of

the description of that at the bridge of Arzobispo, accounts of

which, I believe, have never been published. * * * In the battle of

Talavera, in which the Spanish army, with very trifling exception,

was not engaged--whole corps threw away their arms, and ran off,

when they were neither attacked nor threatened with an attack. When

these dastardly soldiers run away, they plunder everything they

meet. In their flight from Talavera they plundered the baggage of

the British army, which was at that moment bravely engaged in their

cause.”

 

When Wellington came to this resolution to retire into Portugal,

he was at the head of only 17,000 British troops of all arms; the

“terror-stricken Spaniards” were literally an incumbrance. (Napier,

_Hist. W. P._ b. viii. c. 5.) Our troops, through the faithlessness

of their allies, were almost starving, and they were confronted

by 70,000 French! The wonder is that they were not utterly and

immediately crushed by the latter. But Soult was the only great

General then amongst the French commanders; and the promptness is

as much to be admired as the prudence with which Wellington retired

into Portugal.

 

The Spanish army made some miserable attempts after this at

independent action against the French, which ended four months

after the battle of Talavera in the disastrous battle of Ocaña, one

of the most frightful routs recorded in history, where the whole

Spanish army of more than 50,000 men was destroyed, having 5000

killed and wounded, and leaving 26,000 prisoners, 45 pieces of

artillery, 30,000 muskets, and 3000 horses and beasts of burden in

the hands of the enemy! The French lost but 1700 men, killed and

wounded; and I must do them the justice of saying that no exploit

of ours in the Peninsula equalled this in its numerical results;

for God forbid that I should obscure the glory of an enemy or gloss

over the misconduct of an ally. The rest of the Spanish army was

subsequently defeated at Alba de Tormes, which closed the campaigns

of 1809.

 

These scattering and consuming thunderbolts opened the eyes of the

Spaniards at last to the value of the British alliance, and threw

the defence of the Peninsula entirely into those heroic hands, by

which it was so brilliantly completed. The soldiery of Spain acted

thenceforth a subordinate part, and the boast after the battle of

Baylen, “We will not need the services of you _Ingleses_--we will

escort you home through France, but you will not have to strike

a blow!” was not again repeated. For six months of the next year

(till Wellington re-appeared on the scene) they continued their

despairing efforts against the French, but with uniform defeat and

failure. No fitting leaders appeared, and the efforts of the people

were worse than useless.

 

The _third_ era of the Peninsular campaigns commenced with the

third invasion of Portugal by the French army, which was this time

commanded by Massena. The battle of Busaco was the great event of

the commencement of this campaign. This powerful check was for the

time successful, but unable long to control a far superior force,

and the British army fell back within the lines of Torres Vedras.

Massena arrived in front of them, and made prodigious efforts

to pass. But this triumph of Wellington’s genius, and marvel of

engineering and strategic skill, was impregnable to all assaults,

and was at once the salvation of Portugal and the ultimate means

of rescuing Spain from the Invader. Emerging from his unassailable

redoubt, Wellington at last pursued the French beyond the frontier,

and defeated them on the Spanish soil in battle, action, and

assault, from Salamanca to Vitoria, from Vitoria to the Pyrenees.

 

One can laugh at this distance of time at the monstrosities written

about these memorable struggles by French nobles and generals. Thus

Foy has the coolness to say of the relative numbers at Vimieiro,

“Les Anglois étaient deux contre un par rapport aux Français!”

(_Hist. Guerre. Pénins._, livre ix.) He further denies that it

was _a battle at all_. “Ils n’étaient pas desireux de changer un

avantage défensif bien caractérisé en une bataille dont le succès

leur paraissait incertain!” (_Ibid._)

 

The political sagacity and military skill of Wellington not only

maintained his position in the face of overwhelming difficulties,

but speedily took the offensive. The co-operation of (Lord)

Beresford, who was placed over the Portuguese army, organized by

the genius of Wellington, and led by British officers, must not be

overlooked. Massena was forced to retreat from Portugal; and as he

passed the border-line of the two Peninsular countries, Wellington

followed victorious and menacing, having achieved what at first

appeared utterly vain to attempt. The battle of Fuentes de Onoro

ensued, the French were forced to evacuate the fortress of Almeida,

and then followed a long career of victory to the British arms,

which was uninterrupted till our triumphant entry into Toulouse,

and the news of Napoléon’s abdication.

 

The allusion in this Canto to the Basque Guerrillas needs a word of

explanation. The Chapelgorris and Chapelchurris are distinguishing

names of the Basque mountain peasantry, derived from the colour

of their caps. Chacolin is the thin, sour wine of the district.

During the late Carlist war, a considerable degree of romantic

interest attached to these peasantry for the keenness of their

partisan admixture in the strife. One of the most famous events

in the Carlist struggle was the siege of Bilbao, which was raised

by the Cristino General Cordova, and where the most famous of

modern Guerrilleros, Zumalacarregui, received his death-wound. Had

this most energetic of the Carlist Generals lived, the war might

have had a very different termination. It was he, who, on the

wretchedly unprovided state of his men as to arms being remarked

to him, pointing to the muskets in the Cristino battalions, said,

“There are their arms!” and contrived to arm them very respectably

by stripping the Cristinos in repeated brilliant surprises. The

circumstances of this rude but powerful hero’s death are recorded in the Cristino song: