Joseph’s token garrison of 2,000 men having surrendered after a day or so, and with over 400 sick in hospital, the captured store houses were found to contain 180 brass guns and two Eagles (the 51st Ligne and 12th Léger), 20,000 muskets, 14,000 uniforms, 900 barrels of gunpowder, 40,000 pairs of shoes, and rations etc., all of which was most welcome, especially the shoes: blue coats were issued to the light dragoons and artillery men, to be cut down into jackets, and the 68th (amongst others) according to William Wheeler ‘was fortunate enough to fall in with the clothing and well stocked themselves with new shirts, stockings and shoes’. Wheeler’s account of the 7th Division’s entry into the city is particularly well drawn, including being kissed by men with garlic moustaches soaked in snuff:
Our division marched right in front, and as our Regiment is on the right of the division we were the first regiment that entered Madrid. I never before witnessed such a scene. At the distance of five miles from the gates we were met by the inhabitants, each had brought out something, viz. laurel, flowers, bread, wine, grapes, lemonade, aquedente, tobacco, sweetmeats etc. etc. etc. The road represented a moving forest, from the great multitude of people carrying boughs. The intervals of our subdivisions soon became filled up with men, women and children. In one place would be a brawny Spaniard with a pigskin of wine, filling vessels for us to drink, then another with a basket full of bread distributing it around, then a pretty palefaced black-eyed maid would modestly offer a nosegay or sprig of parma or of olive, while others of the sex more bold would dash into our ranks take off our caps and place a sprig of laurel, then without ceremony seize our arm and sing some martial air to the memory of some immortal patriot who had fallen in the good cause. The immortal names of Crauford and others would also sound in Spanish song.
Thus we slowly moved on, amidst the sweet voices of thousands of the most bewitching and interesting little devils I had ever seen, at least I then thought so. But as we approached the city the crowd increased, the people were mad with joy. They called us ‘their deliverours, their Saviours.’ And by a thousand other names. The poor Virgin Mary was forgotten, at least for that day. The air was rent with the deafening shouts of ‘Vivi Wellington, Vivi les Angolese, Vivi les Ilandos’ and by ten thousand other Vivis, I cannot think on. Wellington was at the head of the column. When we entered the city the shouting increased tenfold, every bell that had got a clapper was set ringing, the windows were ornamented with rich drapery embroidered with gold and silver, such as is only used on great festivals when the Host is carried. The whole of the windows and tops of the houses were crowded with Spanish beauty, waving white handkerchiefs. The people endeavoured to drag us into their houses. Suffice it to say, that we were several hours going to the convent where we were to be quartered, that under ordinary circumstances might have been walked in fifteen minutes. But amidst all this pleasure and happiness we were obliged to submit to a custom so unenglish that I cannot but feel disgust now I am writing. It was to be kissed by the men. What made it still worse, their breath was so highly seasoned with garlick, then their huge mustaches stiffened with sweat, dust and snuff, it was like having a hair broom pushed into ones face that had been daubed in a dirty gutter.
Major the Hon. Somers Cocks had also (more happily)
Never been kissed by so many pretty girls in a day in all his life, nor did he ever expect to be again . . . the inhabitants testified their joy by hanging all their curtains, tapestries etc. out of the windows which had a very pretty effect and was greatly increased for three nights by a splendid illumination with immense candles. On the third night they gave a Ball to the army, which affords me an opportunity of seeing more splendid clothes than I ever saw before. The women are beautiful, very fond of the English . . .
Others had eyes for a different kind of bargain:
You would be delighted to see the fine collection of Pictures both here, and in private houses, I scarce do anything else; and am now become well acquainted with the style of every master. There are Good Pictures to be bought, and I think if I can procure one or two very good Murillos I shall buy them for you, but I shall not go further than from £50 to £100. I shall confine myself to this master as one cannot be mistaken in his paintings, and I certainly think him the best of the Painters of his day. There is one however who has painted much here who I also think delightful, and is not known in England, Mengs. There are a number of Titians & Rubens to be seen, and procured here, but I cannot say I esteem generally the works of the latter . . . Velasquez is certainly the first Portrait painter of the Spanish style . . . You might if you were here pick up a number of fine things as almost everything is to be sold, I understand there are some find Greek & Roman Antiques & statues to be had.
(Lieutenant Colonel Alexander Gordon) One must comment that 1812’s £50 to £100 would then buy one a second-rate horse; it seems a Morillo, Titian, Rubens or Velasquez were not much more!
Whilst his army enjoyed genuine Spanish hospitality, and put on a bit of fat, the Peer had much to ponder while sitting through bullfights, balls and receptions. Throughout August he remained busy but immobile, not straying far from his headquarters, to which surely must soon come news on which to act. For he was in a quandary over quite what to do for the best. It really turned on Marshal Soult’s decision, to stay or quit his fiefdom of Andalucia. Stay, and his garrison commitments and the containment of Ballesteros and his Spaniards, and of the partisans, would mean he could march with fewer than 25,000 to join Joseph’s 15,000. That Wellington and Hill could cope with. But evacuate Andalucia entirely, and the joint force 65,000 strong would be a different kettle of fish. ‘Any other but a modern French army would now leave the province of Andalucía,’ Wellington had written to Bathurst four days before Salamanca ‘As they have now absolutely no communications of any kind with France or with any other French army ... yet I suspect Soult will not stir til I force him out.’ To do that, Wellington must turn his back on Clausel, and possibly Joseph, and it would be a hideously long march; not really something to be contemplated.
Then things started to fall into place: it became clear that Valencia and Suchet were the objects of Joseph’s retreat, which surely made it certain Soult must march there also; and by 25 August Wellington had indeed enough unconfirmed reports to suggest Soult ‘is about to make a general movement ... it is supposed in the direction of Granada and Valencia [and] that all persons belonging to the civil departments were to march with the army.’ That is, an evacuation. All this must take time – some few weeks – and his Lordship resolved to use that time to deal with Clausel and then ‘return to this part of the country [Madrid] and hope I shall be here and shall be joined by the troops under Sir Rowland Hill, before Soult can have made much progress to form his junction with the King.’ (to Bathurst, 30 August) For that junction was the prime problem Wellington saw he must face: the next few weeks of what has been called the Burgos campaign, thus were regarded as a side-issue, in a time frame probably closing at the end of September. Hill had been ordered to set out to Madrid only once Soult’s force under Drouet had definitely disappeared towards the east. This took place on 26 August. Thanks to the lack of food in the Tagus valley, however, it was a slow march to join but, nevertheless, Hill was to reach Toledo, two marches south of the capital, by the end of the month. He was joined in front of Madrid by Colonel Skerrett with some 4,000 men from around Seville. So together Hill commanded 21,000 men, half British half Portuguese. In addition, around Madrid, were the 3rd, 4th and Light Divisions, and Espana’s 3,000, with Alten’s and D’Urban’s light dragoons – another 17,000 men making 38,000 under Hill about the capital. Wellington took with him to Valladolid the 1st, 5th, 6th and 7th Divisions, with Pack and Bradford’s Portuguese, and Boch and Ponsonby’s dragoons – a separate force of 30,000 men. (We must bear in mind that the hospital State of 25 August showed 20,000 marked not on duty.)
Now this decision is hard to understand, except as a cautious compromise, if he had decided he could well deal with
Clausel and get back in time before Joseph and Soult could come up. That is, to denude himself to leave such a force under Hill. But he really could not be sure of Clausel’s current strength (it was in fact 40,000), nor of likely reinforcements to it (might Caffarelli lend him two divisions?). We say that, of course, with hindsight; similarly, Hill really could no more hold a combined Joseph/Soult force of 60,000 with his reinforced 38,000 than he could with his own 21,000. Neither wing of the allied army was strong enough to cope with the potential threats; nor collectively if they combined Joseph/Soult/Suchet should come together – what, 85,000 strong? Nor if, perish the thought, supposing Napoleon returns triumphant from Russia, that the man was to descend upon Spain with sizeable intentions and additional forces. So the burden on Wellington’s shoulders, and his alone, weighed heavily and that he was not as confident as his outward demeanour required, is shown in a downbeat letter to his brother of 23 August:
Though I still hope to be able to maintain our position in Castille, and even to improve our advantages, I shudder when I reflect upon the enormity of the task which I have undertaken, with inadequate powers myself to do anything, and without assistance of any kind from the Spaniards ... I am apprehensive that all this will turn out but ill for the Spanish cause. If, for any cause, I should be overpowered, or should be obliged to retire, what will the world say? What will the people of England say? What will those in Spain say?
He left Madrid on 31 August, having set out his purpose the previous day to Bathurst: ‘I prepare to establish a secure communication between this army and the army of Galicia; and to drive off the parties of the Army of Portugal which have come forward to the Douro.’ He was forever looking over his shoulder, however. A week later, when he was in Valladolid, the French being on the road to Burgos, he wrote, ‘I shall follow them as far as I can; but I must attend to the south, where it is reported Soult is in movement.’ That day for the first time he talks of capturing Burgos, ‘There is a storm brewing up from the south, for which I am preparing by driving the detachments of the Army of Portugal away from the Douro; and I propose, if I have time, to take Burgos from them.’ Then to Hill the next day:
I came here to drive Marmont’s parties to a greater distance preparatory to the events likely to occur about Madrid and the Tagus. I have waited here to receive accounts of the Army of Galicia, and shall move on tomorrow; but I shall return to Madrid as soon as I shall hear that the plot thickens to the southward.
Predictably, the 11,000-strong Galician army was slow to join. Four days later (13 September) it was still one march adrift, and Burgos still four marches ahead. Wellington had covered forty miles in the last four days, admitting to Bathurst ‘I have not pressed them as hard as I might,’ dawdling as he did to let the Galicians catch up. Burgos was not reached until 18 September: eighty miles in eleven gentle days. Two days later he was again explaining (this time to Edward Paget, fresh from England) why he was there: ‘To remove to a distance all embarrassments existing on this side, preparatory to the events that might be expected on the Tagus [for]) whenever Soult should connect himself with Suchet and the King. We should be pressed a little ... on the Tagus.’ As to Burgos Castle, ‘I am a little apprehensive that I have not the means to take it (although) if I could get it, I think I might take some of the force southward, and I must still endeavour to do so, even though I should not succeed in taking the Castle.’ In these letters we see a man somewhat torn – not that it would perturb him unduly: he clearly wanted to be where he felt his major role required, back with Hill; yet he had not resolved ‘The embarrassment existing on this side’, and how could he? He seemed not to be looking to engage Clausel in battle, and yet his wish to ‘work the French beyond the Ebro’ would require ten more days there and back. And there was the small matter of the Army of the North, since Burgos came under General Caffarelli (it was his 2,200 men who formed the garrison). It was all very well hoping Commodore Home Popham could go on being annoying along the coast, but that was not to be relied upon. Clausel could well soon get help. Wellington had already heard 7,000 conscripts had come down the great road from France for the Army of Portugal and, further, that his old foe Massena had been sent to command it once more. In fact, by early September Clausel handed over to General Joseph Souham – and that appointment was to last only a few weeks. In addition, the Army of Portugal had picked up around 4,000 men from the depot in Valladolid, collected earlier from the smaller outposts during the retreat. Taken together, these two groups very nearly replaced his Salamanca losses. So if Wellington could seize and garrison Burgos Castle, which sat above the bridges, a resurgent Army of Portugal would have to deal with it on any new move to the south; and it might even be temptation enough for another battle.
The overall position when he got to Burgos was, of course, known to him with a two week delay. When he made his first move, Soult had been reported on 8 September as being still in Granada, and Joseph in Valencia, presumably waiting for Soult to join. This excellent slow progress anchored the King on the coast yet awhile, and presented Wellington with a little more time.
So the decision was made, not one of his Lordship’s best. Men were to die, in the end with nothing to show for it and with his own reputation definitely diminished. Since our earlier chapters have fully considered two successful sieges – three, if we count the Salamanca forts – it is but fair to our French friends not to dodge, via a brief passing note, the Burgos fiasco. As at Badajoz, here they are led by an energetic and resourceful garrison commander. Napoleon once said ‘fortresses alone will not win a war but a successful defence will retard the movements of an enemy.’ How true. But while General Dubreton’s sturdy defence is one prime reason for English failure, we cannot hide that the wounds generally were self-inflicted. At least, however, we shall be spared too many graphic reminders of a comprehensively botched job, since fewer participants later described their recollections than was normal after victorious outcomes.
It was agreed afterwards that the job was much harder than anticipated. Otherwise, one of the divisions experienced in siege work – the 3rd, 4th, 5th or Light – would have been used. The 5th were present with Wellington, but he had sent them forward as part of the covering force. No provision had been made for heavy guns or adequate ammunition and powder – merely the three iron 18-pounders used against the Salamanca forts, and five 24-pounder howitzers, whose feeble accuracy and kinetic energy is useless against masonry. There were just four engineer officers under Burgoyne, including John Jones, also now a half colonel, with eight artificers, plus ten volunteer officers and eighty-one men from the regiments with carpentry, masonry, mining etc. skills. Even the supply of picks and shovels was scarcely enough for one battalion. We can only suppose either that the operation was not foreseen, or that (as with Salamanca) the available intelligence on the nature of the fortress buildings was incorrect. Once seen, however, it was pretty plain: ‘We have had a view of the castle, which appears a more tough job than we might have supposed.’ (Lieutenant Colonel Robe, commanding the artillery)
The reason was obvious – the place had walls. Now you can blast a breach in walls, or climb a ladder over them, or explode mines underneath and make a breach that way. With just the three 18-pounders, only the second two methods were available, and both of which depended entirely upon surprise and experienced practitioners, whether in wielding picks, or providing covering musketry; and while Wellington could make his own surprise, he could not make instant miners, nor marksmen out of men lumbered with the Brown Bess.
The castle fortress was quite small, on a knoll towering in places 400 feet above the lower parts of the city, which lay mainly to the east. The knoll was just 200 paces long by 100 wide. The various lines of defensive walls down the steep slopes encompassed a much larger acreage. Immediately to the south lay the river Arlanzon, with three bridges; to the north a deep ravine, beyond which rose another knoll. This was flatter but of the same height, and only distant some 300 paces, the ravine being quit
e steep: this was the hill of San Miguel. Just as at Ciudad Rodrigo the Greater Teson had the Renault Redoubt situated upon it, for much the same reason San Miguel had been crowned by a hornwork. It was in clear view and range of a battery of eight heavy cannon on the keep, which was on the castle site across the ravine, together with the magazines. The guns also covered a palisaded fenceline and the slopes to it, at the hornwork’s rear. The west end contained the ruined church of Santa Maria la Blanca – the white house, where provisions were stored. A covered way connected the church with the Keep.
The map shows a double line of walls around the whole, with a third line of wall below the white house, where the ground beneath it falls away more gently and was, therefore, a good deal more inviting of attack than elsewhere. The garrison comprised two battalions of the 34th Ligne and one of the 130th, 1,600 bayonets altogether, with an artillery company to work the 9-, 12 – and 16-pounders (eight being on the keep) eleven field guns (seven being on the hornwork) and six mortars and howitzers. In command was Brigadier General Dubreton, reputedly the equal of Badajoz’s Phillipon, and as we shall see, certainly no less energetic. He had two big insoluble problems but which, again, Wellington was ill-equipped to exploit: firstly the lack of overhead cover within the confines of the final walls. Only the keep and the white house had roofs, so the great mass of Dubreton’s 2,000 men necessarily bivouacked in the open, and were vulnerable to mortar fire which, had such weapons been available, must surely have seen the fortress rapidly become untenable. Secondly, so steep were the slopes upon which the various walls stood, that in many places the outer line quite failed to prevent shot striking an inner, especially fired from the near-commanding level of the hornwork. The latter’s capture, therefore, was a pre-requisite, especially since there was thought to be an area just to the right of it, near the gorge, which might provide a defilade gun position, able to engage the north-westerly walls across the ravine but protected by a swell in the ground from fire from the battery on the keep.
Salamanca 1812- Wellington’s Year of Victories Page 43