Nevertheless, the next morning Napoleon could resume the execution of his master plan with the central position safely under control and reassuring news arriving from the right flank. Massed cavalry formations swept southward onto the plain of Castille, but found scant signs of any opponents ready to face them. Accordingly, that afternoon, on the Emperor’s orders, Soult led off his three divisions for a lightning march toward Reynosa by way of Urbel, intent on surrounding Blake and the 12,000 remaining men of the Army of Galicia. Within forty-eight hours Marshal Ney was also on the road at the head of a composite force made up partly from his own corps and partly from the reserve, heading for the town of Aranda del Douro in preparation for the swing to the left which would, all being well, isolate Castaños from Madrid and lead to the encirclement and destruction of the Spanish Army of the Center. Thus by November 13 all parts of Napoleon’s plan were at least in process of execution. For the following few days, Napoleon stayed at Burgos, waiting to see how his schemes would mature and hoping to obtain news of Moore’s newly revealed march. He used this temporary leisure to catch up with state correspondence.
Once again, however, his subordinates failed to come up to the Emperor’s full expectations. In the case of Marshal Soult, it was hardly his own fault. After hounding his men over sixty miles of difficult ground in only three days, he arrived at Reynosa early on November 14 in time to capture only part of Blake’s convoys and his guns. The Army of Galicia had retreated with great speed after their defeat at Espinosa and were consequently clear of the town before the IInd Corps could possibly arrive on the scene. All the same, by Soult’s arrival the Irish general was at once made aware that all roads into the plain were cut, and in desperation Blake ordered his men to abandon the remainder of their baggage and move into the hills along narrow mule paths. After a heroic march under appalling weather conditions, Blake succeeded in bringing some 10,000 starving men safely to Leon on November 23, where they were awarded a few days’ much needed rest. By this time, the Army of Galicia, or its remnant, had far outdistanced its pursuers. Since November 1, Blake and his men had covered the staggering distance of 300 miles over the most forbidding and roadless terrain.
By November 16, Soult’s concentration with the forces of Victor and Lefebvre at Reynosa was complete, and for a day or so the famished French troops delightedly gorged themselves on the contents of the well-stocked Spanish depots. It was clear, even to the Emperor, that there remained no chance now of catching Blake, who had the immense advantage of local knowledge, and Napoleon was soon issuing orders breaking up the useless concentration of 50,000 troops on his right. The component corps were redeployed as follows. Victor was summoned to Burgos, Lefebvre was moved forward onto the plain as far as Carrion to threaten Leon and Benavente, while Soult received instructions to occupy Santander and continue the pursuit of Blake. Santander and most of its stores fell into the Duke of Dalmatia’s hands on November 16. A day or so later the IInd Corps was heading over the difficult Cantabrian Mountains to Saldana, for Soult was determined not to be left out of the “kill” if it lay within the power of his determination and the capacity of his men’s legs to reach the critical theater before the coup de grâce.
Meanwhile, away on the eastern flank of the Spanish line, a state of unholy calm had reigned since the last week in October. Napoleon had given stringent orders that the foe was to receive no provocation from Moncey’s corps and the single division belonging to Ney’s command which remained in Navarre (27,000 men in all) until everything was prepared in the center. The armies of Castaños and Joseph Palafox, however, made scant use of their leisure to harass the French forces, but passed the time in quarreling over courses of future action and problems of command. When Castaños fell ill for a brief period, Palafox’s brother Francisco attempted to assume control of both Spanish forces, but the only result of his ruthless intrigues was increased confusion. By November 18, the Spaniards were still disputing among themselves without there being a sign of an agreed strategy. The next flock of sheep was clearly ready for the wolf’s attentions.
On November 21, alarming news reached Castaños, newly restored to health and command. Columns of French troops were reported moving out from Logroño and Lodosa towards Calahorra and Tudela. Clearly, a trap was in the process of being sprung, but instead of retreating without delay to the strong fortress of Saragossa, Castaños decreed only a local withdrawal to an intermediate position near Tudela. Even there, the movement of troops was badly handled, and half the available Spanish force spent the night of the 22nd at a considerable distance from the intended battlefield, with the mighty Ebro separating them from their comrades.
By this time, the forces of French retribution were drawing near. The fire-eater Marshal Lannes had newly been placed in command of Moncey’s corps and various other detachments (altogether totaling some 29,000 infantry and 5,000 cavalry). With this force he bore down on the poorly positioned 45,000-strong Spanish army, and on November 23 attacked Castaños’ position. The Spanish general made no attempt to discover the probable line of French attack, but retained his 3,000 horsemen in complete idleness until the storm broke. What made matters worse, whole units of his army refused to engage the French at all, but chose idly to watch the destruction of their compatriots. By dusk, the last front-line Spanish army had been defeated with a loss of at least 4,000 casualties besides 26 guns. Although Lannes was left the undoubted victor of the day, his success might have been greater had he organized his final attack more cunningly and made an all-out onslaught against the cracking Spanish center.
Of course, Napoleon’s original plan also called for the arrival of Marshal Ney from Aranda in the rear of Castaños’ position at the critical moment. This enveloping movement, however, failed to materialize. Although Ney bore the brunt of the blame, much of the fault really lay with the Emperor. He had issued orders for Ney to leave Aranda and move eastward by way of Tarazona on the 18th, and after certain unavoidable delays on the road, the VIth Corps was only able to get on the move by the 20th. It was consequently impossible for Ney to reach his objective in time for Lannes’ battle on the 23 rd, for no less than 120 miles lay between the two wings of the French forces. The Duke of Elchingen certainly did his best, and forced his men to achieve prodigies of marching over difficult terrain and shocking roads, but it was not until the 26th that he reached Tarazona, too late by three days to trap the remainder of Castanos’ and Palafox’s forces.
Typically, Napoleon refused to accept the irrefutable evidence of the map and dividers; he picked on the fact that Ney had been compelled to rest his exhausted men for a brief spell at Soria en route for Tarazona as evidence of incompetence. “If only Marshal Ney had avoided being imposed upon by the local inhabitants, and had not spent the 23rd and 24th resting at Soria, imagining that the enemy still controlled 80,000 men and other follies, he would have been able to reach Agreda on the 23 rd, as I ordered, and then not a Spaniard would have escaped.”35 This was unjust in the extreme; miles of bad roads lay between Soria and Agreda, and no exertion by Ney could have covered this distance in time. The error really lay in Napoleon’s failure to order Ney to set out from Aranda before the 18th. Of course, in maligning the Duke of Elchingen’s reputation the Emperor was really trying to find a scapegoat for a whole series of disappointments. Neither at Espinosa nor Tudela had his subordinates achieved the total victory that he felt his carefully considered plans deserved. On each occasion, a sizeable part of the intended victim had slipped out of the net; Blake to Leon, Castaños towards the Cuença Mountains.
Nevertheless, the overall position was favorable enough for the French army. Since November 10, three considerable victories had been won, and the Spanish line lay irremediably shattered. Apart from Moore’s disunited command, whose exact position was still hidden from the Emperor, not a single enemy army now survived capable of implementing any effective defensive measures. To all intents and purposes, the roads to Madrid, the south and Portugal appeared open to L’ A
rmée d’Espagne. Both flanks were now secure; the central position was in undisputed French possession, and the new formations of Junot and Mortier were beginning to materialize over the Pyrenees in support. In spite of these encouraging circumstances, however, the French army was not without problems. Great difficulty was already being experienced in finding adequate supplies to feed the troops, and associated with these shortages came repeated breakdowns in discipline. Spoiling and looting passed all acceptable limits, and the Emperor was forced to have recourse to stern measures to restore a semblance of order to his army. Short shrift was accorded to pillagers caught redhanded. De Castellane records one instance of what befell a Piedmontese soldier, found looting a church. The unfortunate pillager was immediately haled before an extemporized tribunal, “the sentence was signed on a drum, the soldier condemned to death, and he was immediately executed on the spot.”36 There were many similar cases of summary field punishment, but still the excesses continued unabated.
Even more serious than the shortage of rations or general prevalence of indiscipline were the problems associated with maintaining effective control over the areas of Spain already conquered. The Spanish peasantry evinced not the slightest sign of joy at the return of “King Joseph” and his imperial brother’s army of “liberators.” Hundreds—even thousands—took to the mountains and began a ruthless guerilla war against the French lines of communication. No isolated French detachment was safe; every courier had to be provided with a large escort. The requirements of eternal vigilance, miles from the front, inevitably took a heavy toll on the men’s nerves. “I will always remember how I was afflicted with great anxieties,” recalled General Matthieu Dumas in later years. “Each day saw the murder of several Frenchmen, and I traveled over this assassins’ countryside as warily as if it were a volcano.”37? The perils of the rear areas were often brought forcibly to the Emperor’s attention, for on several occasions favorite aides and touring staff officers inexplicably disappeared without trace. “In such a theater of war there is no front or rear,” Napoleon asserted, and when summoning his fratello Joseph to a conference on November 30, he enjoined him “to come as quickly as you can—but travel with your guard as a precaution against the brigands wandering in these mountains.”38 Spain was far from a comfortable land to campaign in during the latter months of 1808, and large numbers of troops had to be assigned to guarding the growing lines of communication linking the Madrid-bound Armée d’Espagne to its bases beyond the Pyrenees.
From November 23, in spite of these difficulties, the Emperor was poised with an imposing array of troops near the town of Aranda, waiting for the right moment to order a fresh advance. Besides the Imperial Guard, there were now the divisions of the reserve cavalry and the corps of Marshal Victor, in all a force of 45,000 veterans (even the conscripts of the Ist Corps had justly earned this appelation by late November). Once news of Tudela and Ney’s limited success had reached headquarters, the Emperor knew it was safe for him to proceed. Two choices lay before him; he could either employ all his power in an effort to destroy Moore’s puny army, newly and unexpectedly reported to be approaching Salamanca, or he could postpone this effort until after the reoccupation of Madrid. Scorning the “rednecks,” the Emperor chose the latter course, and ordered his army to sweep forward on a broad front to effect the recapture of the Spanish capital. Marshal Lefebvre was to march through Palencia, Valladolid and Segovia so as to protect the right flank; Ney was to move by Guadalaxara to secure the left while Moncey settled down to besiege Palafox in redoubtable Saragossa. Covered by these formations, the central armament was to sweep toward Madrid down the high road running over the Guadarramas, the chain of steep hills constituting the last natural obstacle between the French and their objective. The advance was to begin on the 28th. In all 130,000 men were put under marching orders.
Meanwhile, the Supreme Junta was anxiously trying to devise some way of defending their exposed capital. The decision—extremely ill timed—to remove Generals Blake, Belvedere and Castaños from their commands left the arbiters of Spain’s destiny with a difficult leadership problem to solve, and this typically engrossed most of the representatives’ time and attention. Although there was no effective Spanish force in existence which might be able to protect the last approaches to the capital, the Junta proudly rejected the notion of summoning General Moore to their aid. Instead they optimistically instructed him to head for the River Douro, there to gather up the fragments of Blake’s former command and create a threat to the French communications. For the defense of Madrid they turned to General Benito San Juan’s 12,000 soldiers (a polyglot force comprising remnants of the Army of Andalusia, a handful of Estremaduran and Castillian reserves, and nine regular battalions of Redding’s command from Granada), supported by 8,000 survivors of the wrecked Army of Estremadura (now under the command of General Heredia). Both these forces were eventually brought under the nominal command of a certain General Eguia, supposedly Commander of the Reserve Army. This worthy lost no time in ordering his pitifully small command to march north from Madrid, San Juan and his 12,000 men toward the pass of Somosierra, Heredia and his 9,000 to the defiles through the Guadarramas further west. By these measures Eguia hoped to deny Napoleon’s vast army the use of the two major roads leading into Madrid from the north. It was at best a pious hope; unfavorable odds of five to one could hardly be defied indefinitely.
After studying both available avenues of approach, Napoleon selected the Somosierra pass for the main breakthrough. Sending off a force of cavalry (later supported by the IVth Corps) to mask the Guadarrama defiles, he ordered the rest of his army to march for General San Juan’s position. By the morning of the 29th, the Emperor had reached Buceguillas at the foot of the mountains, and he lost no time in sending forward patrols to spy out the lie of the land. It eventually transpired that San Juan had inadvisedly split his small force into two parts. One, comprising 3,500 regular infantry and a battery, had been sent forward to occupy the village of Sepulveda as an advanced position; the remainder were drawn up on a small plateau at the highest point of the pass, where they had constructed a rudimentary earthwork and sited 16 guns to sweep the high road. To defend this, the true Somosierra position, San Juan had at his disposal six regular, two militia and seven levy battalions—perhaps 9,000 men in all.
Such an insignificant force could not detain the French for long, despite the sharpness of the gradient and the difficulty of the countryside—or so Napoleon probably thought. Nevertheless, a preliminary attack by General Savary and a brigade drawn from the Guard against Sepulveda late on the 29th was repulsed with no little loss, and the Emperor was forced to postpone his main effort until the following day. During the night, the village garrison, faced by an immense number of French troops, understandably but unauthorizedly abandoned their posts and retreated westward to Segovia, depriving the unwitting San Juan of their further services.
November 30 dawned foggy, but from dawn onward Napoleon was urging his men forward through Sepulveda towards San Juan’s main position. By nine o’clock the mists were rising, and Napoleon’s leading units could at last see the Spanish legions drawn up at the summit of the 1,500-meter pass at the end of three kilometers of winding road. The Spaniards had made no attempt to occupy the hillsides on each side of their position, and the French infantry would consequently have found little difficulty in working round the flanks, but Napoleon, scorning his opponent’s abilities, desired a quick result. Accordingly, the French pressed straight on up the road, General Ruffin’s division leading, and only small detachments were pushed out on either side to guard the flanks. Very soon, the ten leading French battalions were deployed into line on the hillside leading to the crest, and a lively skirmishing fire broke out as step by step Ruffin’s infantry steadily made their way towards the head of the pass.
Then, unaccountably, Napoleon’s patience snapped. Tired of waiting for the infantry to reach their objective, he suddenly turned to Captain Korjietulski, commander
of the Third Squadron of the Polish Light Horse* and currently providing the Emperor’s personal escort; pointing toward the Spanish battery, the Emperor snapped: “Take that position for me—at a gallop!” To order a small force of seven officers and 80 men to charge up a steep narrow road into the very mouths of 16 cannon before supporting infantry could get close enough to engage the gunners was a very callous thing to do, even for Napoleon. Perhaps his impatience for a rapid decision got the better of him; perhaps he wished to demonstrate his scorn for his Spanish opponents. But whatever the reason he was effectively sentencing a gallant unit to almost certain destruction. Marshaled under the eye of General Mouton, the Poles unquestioningly formed up four abreast (the narrowness of the road would not permit a more extended formation) and charged with a cheer. The first Spanish salvo emptied many saddles—and the survivors not unnaturally reined in when they found some slight shelter in a dip. According to de Ségur, Napoleon was furious at this. “My Guard must not be stopped by peasants, by mere armed brigands !”39 he raved, and ordered de Ségur to take up an order for a renewed charge. The gallant Poles again set off into the storm of converging shot and shell, de Ségur at their head, and their desperate attack was only halted 30 yards from the smoking guns. By this time, 60 out of the original 88 horsemen had been killed or wounded. The Third Squadron had effectively ceased to exist; no officer was left to command the survivors; and all had been to no avail.
The Campaigns of Napoleon Page 79
