The Victories of Wellington and the British ArmiesMaxwell, W. H. (William Hamilton)
History
The Victories of Wellington and the British Armies
Maxwell, W. H. (William Hamilton)
Great Britain -- History, Military -- 19th century; Wellington, Arthur Wellesley, Duke of, 1769-1852
The enemy came down in force, but the Buffs held the building they
occupied against overwhelming odds. General Paget was wounded--but
fresh companies were ferried over, and General Hill took charge of
the troops. The French came on in columns, but the batteries from the
Serra convent annoyed them with a plunging fire, while the troops from
the building kept up a well-directed fusilade. Murray, who had found
little difficulty, and succeeded in passing his division by the ford,
now appeared moving rapidly on the left flank of the French--while
Sherbrooke, having obtained some boats, was ferrying the Guards over
below the town. Finding himself likely to be turned on either side,
Soult hastily retreated by the Amarante road, boldly followed by the
British cavalry, who charged repeatedly with most brilliant success.
Evening ended the pursuit--the brigades occupied the city in every
place--they were cheered by loud vivas, and most affectionately
received by the inhabitants.
The crossing of the Douro was, in military estimation, as bold and
well-arranged an operation as any that marked Wellesley’s Peninsular
career. The passage of a river in the face of an enemy with every
assistance from pontoons and ferryage, is considered a hazardous
undertaking; but, circumstanced as the British commander was, the thing
was generally set down as impracticable, and Soult was unprepared for
the attempt. When the news was brought that the enemy was crossing
at Villa Nova, the marshal ridiculed the notion, and remained in his
quarters until two in the afternoon. He was then obliged precipitately
to quit the city; and so suddenly were Wellesley’s measures executed,
that the dinner prepared for the duke of Dalmatia, was served up to the
British general and his staff. War is, certes, a game of chances;--and
little did the French marshal suppose, when at noon he regulated the
_carte_ presented by his _maître d’hôtel_, that he was then civilly
arranging an excellent repast for his opponent. Yet such was the case.
Wellesley succeeded Soult--and within a few hours the same roof
covered the victor and the vanquished.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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