I sat back in the saddle as I took it all in. It was then that I started to realise the scale of the trap that Wellington had drawn the French into. I thought back to the people I had met recently and there seemed little doubt that he was right about the outcome. When I remembered the confident French army I had marched with in my lancer disguise, there had been not the slightest doubt in their ranks that they would be victorious. They were veterans who had beaten the best armies in Europe, and they were chasing down a British army that they had forced to run from Corunna just two years before. They would never accept that they had been beaten and simply turn around vanquished with their tail between their legs. Their emperor had commanded them to beat the British and they would stay until they had done so.
But if they stayed, I thought back to Rodgriguez and his partisans. There were countless groups like them now across Spain and Portugal and they would fall on the dispersed French like wolves. It would be a bitter and merciless conflict with appalling atrocities on both sides. Hunger and cold would add to the French deprivations, and all the while the British would sit safe, fed and warm behind their walls. In the spring when the British would emerge again, the surviving emaciated French forces would be in a pitiable state. The biggest French army in Spain would be destroyed and there would be nothing to stop us marching straight back into Spain.
‘What the deuce,’ I said as this sank in. ‘This could be your greatest victory yet and you will achieve it while lying comfortably in your bed.’
Wellington grinned at me. ‘Well if it is, Campbell tells me you know of two sisters in Lisbon who will also make it my most enjoyable victory. You will have to introduce me.’
Editors Epilogue
Despite being such a monumental undertaking, the lines of Torres Vedras were completed in almost total secrecy. Certainly the French had no idea of their existence until their forward scouts reported on the new hill forts as Massena’s army advanced. The marshal found such a fortification so hard to believe that once again he forced himself out of Madame X’s bed to go and see them for himself.
While Wellington was right in most of his expectations, he hopelessly underestimated the French foraging ability to stay before the lines. Instead of lasting six weeks as he thought, the French finally moved away from the region in March the following year. During that time both the French army, and to an even greater degree, the Portuguese civilians who stayed outside the British defences, suffered appallingly.
When the French army finally struck camp and tried to withdraw into Spain, their army was twenty thousand less than that which had stood at Busaco. In comparison British losses over that winter were negligible. The combined British and Portuguese army was now bigger than that of the French. But it was not just a matter of numbers, more importantly the morale of both armies completely reversed over that winter. The French arrived before the lines at Torres Vedras the unbeaten military masters, confident of victory and contemptuous of their enemies. Only slowly did they realise the nature of their predicament. At first they thought that the British were trapped, and after some probing at the lines they settled to their siege. Skilled at foraging food and extracting it from the populace which was left, initially all was well, but as winter set in food became scarcer and they were soon cut off from other French forces in Spain. Pride kept them before the lines long after others would have left. Soon every dawn brought gnawing hunger and the corpses of men either grown too weak, or murdered in the night. It was a wickedly harsh winter and once weakened by cold and hunger, disease also ravaged the French army. As thousands of men died and the rest struggled to survive, they were all too aware that the nearby British were well fed and tucked up in warm beds. When the French finally retreated their soldiers were half-starved scarecrows, in little state to fight and resentful that so many lives had been thrown away on such a fruitless gamble. The masters had been mastered.
In contrast, when Wellington’s army had first arrived in Spain, many were inexperienced and those who had fought before had known mostly retreat, being chased out the previous winter at Corunna. Over the next two years they had known only victory; of course Cuesta would have pointed out that this was because they hid away from the French for much of that time. But they remained a fighting force, beating the French at Oporto, Talavera and Busaco, before watching the French struggle at Torres Vedras. Like Flashman, many of the British officers had been critical of Wellington during the retreat to the lines, and morale was low at the continuous retreating. However over that harsh winter, as half-starved French deserters recounted their experiences, they came to see the sense of his course of action.
It would be wrong to imply that life behind the lines of Torres Vedra was a bed of roses that winter. For the British soldiers and the Portuguese citizens of the city of Lisbon things were reasonably comfortable, but the city was also packed with thousands of displaced refugees, and for them very little provision was made. Some assistance came from churches and private charity but death and exposure carried off many thousands. The situation was, however, far worse for those Portuguese trapped outside the lines. In addition to coping with hunger and cold they faced torture and death from the French hunting for hidden food supplies that often did not exist or which had long since been consumed. While some Portuguese would have died in that harsh winter from natural causes anyway, it is estimated that fifty thousand Portuguese died that winter, the approximate size of either one of the combatant armies.
However, Torres Vedras was a turning point. While the British may have ended up where they started after two years fighting, when they left the lines they did not stop until they were fighting on the soil of France itself.
Flashman’s adventures in Spain and beyond will continue in the next book.
Historical Notes
I am deeply indebted to a variety of historians and sources for confirming many of the facts mentioned by Flashman in this account. These include the biographies of Wellington by Elizabeth Longford and Richard Holmes and most especially several books on the Peninsular War by Charles Esdaile. They confirm not only the broad sweep of the campaign and course of battles but also many of the incidental details mentioned by Flashman. This includes Wellington’s reaction to the possible foundering of the ship taking him to Portugal, the contents of the despatch about Sir William Erskine, the account of Rigny, the resourceful French officer who masqueraded as a British agent, the murderous Catholic friar and other atrocities committed by both French and Spanish. They also confirm other anecdotal details such as the attempt by the medical corp major and some dragoons to ‘liberate’ nuns from a convent as well as the infantry soldier hung with his mirror at Coimbra. The diligent research to confirm that the jerez or sherry that the Spanish keep to themselves is vastly superior to that sold overseas under that name, was however conducted by the editor.
Charles Esdaile’s books on the Peninsular War also confirm that the Marquis of Astorga was a proud and ruthless dwarf. While no mention is made of the marquesa there is a description of the marquis attributed to Lord Holland: ‘The Marquis of Astorga was the least man I ever saw in society, and smaller than many dwarfs exhibited for money. He drove about with guards like a royal personage.’ He was president of the Junta of Granada and ruled with a firm hand. He put down one uprising by ordering cavalry to charge a small group of onlookers and placed infantry on every street corner.
John Downie
Downie was one of Wellington’s commissary officers and a passionate supporter of the Spanish cause. He was of some personal means for largely at his own expense he did succeed in forming a regiment dressed in fashions dating back to late sixteenth century. He was also given the sword of Pizarro by the conquistador’s family and there are accounts of him hurling this to friends across a river when he was injured and about to be captured. He was undoubtedly brave and lost part of his jaw in a bomb explosion. After the war he was given a pension by the Spanish crown and, as Flashman mentioned, was made governor of the castle in
Seville. A contemporary account from a British soldier of seeing his extraordinary regiment in the field is below:
‘On the line of march this day, I saw a body of the Estremaduran legion; a corps raised, clothed, and commanded by a General Downie, an Englishman, who had formerly been a commissary in our service. Any thing so whimsical or ridiculous as the dress of this corps, I never beheld : it was meant to be an imitation of the ancient costume of Spain. The turned-up hat, slashed doublet, and short mantle, might have figured very well in the play of Pizarro, or at an exhibition of Astley’s ; but in the rude and ready bivouack, they appeared absurd and ill-chosen. In the midst of our misery and discomfort, the same evening, we could not avoid laughing at the recollection of these poor devils, who, in their fantastic dresses, must have been exposed to the same violent storm which extinguished our fires, soaked our ground, and, forcing its way through our tents, drenched us to the skin.’
Sherer Moyle, Recollections of the Peninsula, first published in 1824.
The Defence of the Alcantara Bridge
Accounts of this battle are hard to find, largely for the reasons that Flashman mentioned: the antipathy between Wellington and Wilson, and because neither the French nor the Spanish had reason to recall the incident with pride. There is, however, the excellent first-hand account of the battle in A Narrative of the Campaigns of the Loyal Lusitanian Legion by Colonel William Mayne. You can find this freely available at the website of the Portuguese National Library or Biblioteca Nacional Digital. Not only does this cover the Alcantara Bridge defence, but it also gives first-hand accounts of various other events in the short but extraordinary existence of the Loyal Lusitanian Legion. This includes how the Legion held off a French force of ten times their number at Almeida during the winter of 1808/09, allowing the British to retain their foothold in Lisbon.
One of the delights in editing this book was to discover that the Alcantara Bridge still survives and looks exactly the same as it must have done in Flashman’s time. There are plenty of photographs of it online and visitors to Alcantara can walk or even drive across this outstanding feat of engineering that is now nearly two thousand years old. The first span did collapse shortly after the battle and the British put in place a temporary repair in 1812. The bridge was not permanently repaired until 1860. The town of Alcantara remains on one side of the bridge, and you can still see the slope and bluff unchanged from when the Legion conducted their desperate defence of it.
Sir Robert Wilson
Wilson and Wellington were opposites in temperament, and as both men had very high opinions of their own abilities it was inevitable that they would fall out. Wilson viewed Wellington as high handed and overly cautious while Wellington considered Wilson reckless and dishonest. The title of Wilson’s biography by Michael Glover, ‘A Very Slippery Fellow’, comes from a Wellington quotation dated April 1810. ‘He [Wilson] is a very slippery fellow… and he has not the talent of being able to speak the truth upon any subject.’
Wilson and the Legion did come within seventeen miles of liberating Madrid while the French army was gathered to face Wellington at Talavera. But had Wilson succeeded it is likely that any liberation would have been short lived. The Legion only just escaped ambush and encirclement on its way back behind the allied lines.
During a long career as soldier and diplomat, Wilson saw action in a range of different countries. After an eventful war he was imprisoned briefly by the Bourbon government in France for helping a Bonapartist official escape from the death cell on the eve of his execution. In Britain he was dismissed from the army accused of inciting the household cavalry to mutiny. A more accurate description of his action was that he was trying to deter the soldiers from shooting into the crowd at Queen Caroline’s funeral. Later he was reinstated, became a radical MP, and spent his last years as the Governor of Gibraltar. He is buried in Westminster Abbey.
Gregorio Cuesta
Cuesta is much maligned in accounts of the Peninsular War for being proud and arrogant and for his poor strategic and tactical understanding. He certainly did have all of those faults, but he was nearly seventy when the war started and struggled to adapt to contemporary tactics. His army was packed with unwilling recruits and incompetent officers, while he received very little in the way of supplies. His enemy was invariably better equipped with skilled and experienced troops and commanders. While he suffered a long series of humiliating defeats, given the interference from the Central Junta, rivalry from other generals and lack of support, it is perhaps creditable that he held his army together long enough to fight at Talavera. He made a valid point to Flashman in the carriage that while the British army had evacuated the previous winter, his army had fought on. It was to fight on for the next winter too, without its general, as the British sat peacefully in their winter quarters in Portugal.
Cuesta had an implacable hatred of the French, which it seems only slightly exceeded his dislike of the British, Spanish politicians and some of his rival generals. However his courage was beyond doubt. He did try and stop the retreat of his cavalry at Medallin, getting ridden down by both sides in the process. At Talavera he was humiliated by the inexplicable rout of his infantry in full view of his allies and planned the executions as described by Flashman. However he was extremely proud of the charge by the Royal Cavalry Regiment and its capture of the guns – which were second only to regimental eagles in terms of military trophies and a lot more useful. He sent glowing accounts of that part of the action to the Junta in Seville. While Cuesta was certainly in the gun emplacement to see the guns, in the interests of historical accuracy, it has to be pointed out that Flashman is the only witness to the fact that he nearly beat the attacking cavalry to the battery. Cuesta’s abandonment of the British wounded to the French a few days after the battle was an unforgivable act to the British and if any had seen his charge they were unlikely to give him credit for it in subsequently written accounts.
Talavera
There have been many accounts of the battle of Talavera and Flashman’s description aligns closely with the known facts. The first attack was aborted after the Spanish failed to appear. Despite planning the attack with Wellesley in some detail the previous day, Cuesta chose to stay in bed at the appointed time of the assault, refusing to be disturbed until Wellesley arrived in his camp. The most likely explanation is that he did not trust his allies to come to his aid. Whatever the reason, it denied the allies their chance of tackling Victor alone. Stung by British criticism he then marched the Spanish off on their own to attack Victor, and more by luck than judgement, escaped another catastrophic defeat before marching back to Talavera.
The skirmish before the main battle at Casa Salinas where Wellesley was nearly captured took place as described by Flashman, although he adds more detail on how the ambush was triggered. It was a sizeable action, dead, wounded and missing totalling four hundred and fifty men for the British.
One of the most extraordinary incidents at Talavera, or the whole Peninsular War, was the inexplicable routing of some two thousand Spanish infantry at the start of the main battle. It was witnessed by many including Wellesley, who was disgusted at the sight, but uncertainty remains over what triggered the event. Flashman was as close to it as anybody and even he is not sure, although the reasons he speculates are as good as any. Certainly after the appalling slaughter at Medallin, the Spanish infantry would have had a terror of French horsemen.
The battle was nearly lost by the British during the night time surprise attack by the French on the hill that formed the centre of the British line. As Flashman described, some of the forces that should have been the front line of any defence of the hill had been marched to the bottom, without warning the regiments behind. If the hill had been lost the British position the next day would have been untenable, forcing their retreat. However in a desperate night action the summit was regained by the British, enabling them to fight a robust defensive action the next day.
Flashman’s account reveals that Welles
ley was aware of Soult’s approach that night whereas other sources suggest that he only learned about it the following day; but possibly Wellesley did not want to distract his army with this new challenge until the battle had been won.
The rotund general Flashman met on the slope during the night action and sat with on the hill the next morning was General Rowland ‘Daddy’ Hill. At a time when generals such as Picton and Wellesley commanded to a degree through fear, Hill was genuinely loved by his men for the care he took of them. He was sparing with their lives and was known to give funds from his own pocket to reward good service or aid the comfort of his men. His apparent interest in ornithology has not previously been noted.
The main events of the battle took place as described by Flashman. It was a classic defensive action of the type Wellesley, or Wellington as he became after this event, fought numerous times, making full use of features such as the reverse slopes of hills. The strange truce in the middle of the battle on the second day also took place, with various accounts of soldiers meeting and trading with the enemy while they drank from the stream. After repelling the French advances, the allies finally advanced with cavalry attacks on both flanks. The British attack from the north of the battlefield encountered an unexpected ditch which brought down many of the horses and stalled the attack. The Spanish cavalry charge from the south was far more successful, heading off enemy cavalry and infantry attacks while capturing the battery of guns.
As Flashman describes, the drama was not finished when the battle ended. Many of the wounded from both sides were killed when a fire swept through the battlefield, which had been fought on fields of crops and long grass baked dry in the July heat. Fanned by a breeze, the flames moved quickly, leaving little time to pull the wounded from its path. Some were rescued but many more were burned to death.
Flashman in the Peninsula Page 35