Suchet’s last few months were embroiled in escorting Ferdinand VII to Madrid and in sending yet more troops back to France. It left him too short of effective manpower to maintain his presence outside Barcelona and, having left Habert in charge at the regional capital, he was forced into a humiliating withdrawal to the outskirts of Gerona. In early April, having withdrawn east to Toulouse, Soult repeated his request of support from Suchet. Once again Suchet considered that such a move was unwise. However, as the allied advance east and north continued unabated, Suchet eventually conceded that he had no alternative and on 12 April he gave the order for fort at Rosas to be destroyed and for his army to march to Narbonne. News of Napoleon’s abdication at the end of March and of the final battle at Toulouse on 10 April reached Suchet at Narbonne on 16 April. He assembled his generals and lay before them documents he had received and he set about getting this information to his troops still garrisoned in eastern Spain. On 18 April the communiqués arrived at Barcelona, two days after Habert’s desperate sortie – it was to be the last action of the War.1
Extracting the French garrisons in Spain was a complicated affair and in May General Valée was sent back to secure their release:
The garrisons of Lerida, Monzon, and Mequinenza, which were unjustly detained as prisoners of war, and amounted to seventeen hundred and twenty-seven subalterns and soldiers, and sixtyseven officers, were the first to make their appearance at Oleron ... At the close of the month of May, and in the early part of June, the garrisons of Figueras, Hostalrich, Barcelona, Tortosa, Peñiscola, and Saguntum, successively returned to France, part of the latter garrison by sea.2
For the Anglo-Sicilian force their fate had already been decided a month before the end of the war. Wellington had written to Clinton as early as 4 March:
As soon as you shall hear of the removal of Marshal Suchet from Catalonia, I beg you to order the following troops, viz., 3 companies of artillery, and their drivers (including Major Campbell’s and Capt. Thompson’s companies, already belonging to this army); the 1st and 2nd batts. of the 27th; the 44th, 58th, 81st; and the 4th batt. of the King’s German legion, to join this army. The rest of the artillery (with the exception of the Portuguese artillery), the engineers, the detachments of cavalry, the 10th regt., the Italian, Sicilian, and Calabrese regiments, and the regiments de Roll are to return to Sicily; and Dillon’s regt., and the 2d batt. 67th regt., are to proceed to Gibraltar ... The Portuguese artillery are to return to Lisbon.3
After six long years, the Peninsular War was at an end. The impact of the war on the wider Napoleonic struggle remains subject to debate, and one could argue that the contribution of the struggle on the east coast to the outcome of the war is also a part of that same discussion. I trust and hope that this work has gone some way to assist in that process. However, before closing, it is worth remembering that ‘War is about minds, not stuff’.4 The decisions made by eight men decided the fate of 200,000 men on 18 June 1815 at Waterloo and so it is appropriate to examine in more detail some the key protagonists embroiled in the struggle for the east coast of Spain.
The soldier who emerges from the war on the east coast with the most credit and greatest list of accomplishments is, without doubt, Louis-Gabriel Suchet. He was the only one of Napoleon’s generals to earn his marshal’s baton and the only subordinate who performed consistently and effectively. Suchet conducted his campaigns with great skill and was always able to balance his tasks and capabilities with a level of professionalism, which prompted Napoleon to state that ‘If I had two Suchet’s, I could have held Spain’. Suchet was a great administrator but he was also a resolute soldier. He was firm when he needed to be, as he displayed during the sieges of Tarragona and Valencia, and he was also, uniquely among his peninsular colleagues, humanitarian in his outlook. He is remembered for having conducted a highly effective ‘hearts and minds’ campaign, ably assisted by his wife. 5 His standing was such that at the end of the war the Bourbons wasted little time in dismissing Soult and replacing him with Suchet as the commander of their newly united armies. Alas his favour was to be undone when he offered Marshal Ney money and a passport and, when discovered, he was struck from the list of peers of France. However, his reputation endured, even in Spain, and Spanish priests in Saragossa held a mass in remembrance of him on his death in 1826.
Suchet’s most capable and loyal divisional commanders were Jean-Isidore Harispe and Pierre-Joseph Habert. He used these two commanders in the same way that Ney used Loison or Marmont used Foy but Suchet was fortunate enough to have two independently capable and dependable subordinates. Harispe was a Basque who knew the Pyrenees region and north-western Spain well. Following a short appointment as Suchet’s chief of staff, he became a divisional commander in 1810 and distinguished himself at the numerous sieges and battles on the east coast, most notably at Valencia and the first battle at Castalla. In December 1813 he was sent, at Soult’s request, to his native Basque country to assume command of the 8th Division which was created by the raising of a large number of young Basque recruits. He fought with distinction at Orthez, Tarbes and Toulouse. Suchet used Habert as a divisional commander from 1809, despite being a general of brigade; he received his official promotion to general of division during the siege of Tarragona. He was entrusted with the easterly encirclement of Valencia and went on to enjoy a degree of independence from his base and headquarters at Denía from mid-1812 to mid-1813. He assumed command of Suchet’s rearguard during the withdrawal in 1813 and was selected to command the garrison at Barcelona, when Maurice Mathieu was recalled to France. In 1815 Habert fought with great distinction at Ligny and was badly wounded two days later at Wavre.
Two more French officers capture the selector’s eye – Suchet’s artillery commander, General Sylvain-Charles Valée and his engineer commander, General Joseph Rogniat. Their siege record was unequalled in the war with eight successful sieges; only Sagunto eluded them and that fell the day after the battle.6 Wellington’s best engineer commander, Richard Fletcher and his best artillery siege commander, Alexander Dickson, do not even come close to this record.7 The fact that Valée went on to become the Inspector General of Artillery, while Rogniat became the Inspector General of Engineers speaks volumes. To have had both working together for most of the campaign was fortunate indeed.
There is little doubt that the performance of the Spanish commanders on the east coast was largely uninspiring. Francisco Copons y Navia probably comes out on top: he had fought well at the Spanish victory at Bailén in July 1808 and was present at the battles at Tudela (November 1808), Tarancón (December 1808), Talavera (July 1809), Arzobispo (August 1809) and Ocaña (November 1809). However, it was his heroic defence during the siege of Tarifa (December 1811 to January 1812) against Marshal Victor which earned him a reputation.8 His British advisor and commander of the British brigade within Tarifa, Colonel John Skerrett, advised evacuation but Copons’ resolve paid off and Victor limped back to his camps around Cádiz having failed in his endeavour. Copons arrived in Alicante in April 1812 and at the end of the year was despatched to Catalonia to assume command of the Spanish 1st Army. He was the eleventh Spanish commander in Catalonia in the war and he undoubtedly conducted himself well, although he did not achieve anything of notable significance. Most significantly perhaps, he was not an Anglophobe and that itself was a worthy and key characteristic when it came to allied operations. He was undoubtedly let down by Murray after Tarragona but I believe Oman has overplayed the importance of this incident.9
Enmity towards British commanders by Spanish officers and officials, given the two nations’ respective historical differences and disagreements, was exasperating but explicable. All things considered the fact that the Anglo-Spanish alliance survived is nothing short of a minor miracle.10 However, Spanish regional hostility to Spanish ‘outsiders’ is a far more difficult circle to square. Copons, who was an Andalusian and not a Catalan, most certainly suffered as a result of this confrontational resentment. His experiences, however, paled into insignificance when compared to the treatment of Joachim Blake by the Valencianos. Blake was of émigré Irish parentage but, like Copons, was also born in Malaga, Andalusia. In fact he was a capable military man with, unlike many senior Spanish officers, a vision and understanding beyond the tactical and operational sphere. However, he was desperately unlucky. In 1808 he enjoyed a meteoric rise from colonel to lieutenant general and assumed command of the Army of Galicia but was defeated at Medina de Rio Seco (July), Zornoza (October) and Espinosa (November).11 As these defeats were considered somewhat inevitable under the circumstances, Blake was given command of the Army of Aragón and, a short time later, the Army of Catalonia (see Appendix I). He defeated Suchet at Alcañiz in May 1809 but was then defeated at two engagements in quick succession at Maria [de Huerva] and Belchite in June. He was then given command of the Army of the Centre and was defeated at Baza but performed well at Albuera.12 Then in July he assumed command of the combined armies of Murcia, Valencia and Aragón and it all went horribly wrong at the battle of Sagunto, which was a master class in mismanagement. As it has been seen, Blake was not entirely to blame, some of his subordinate commanders acting atrociously, but he and his army never recovered. Sagunto Fort fell immediately and the fortified city of Valencia was to follow. Even by Spanish standards it was a disaster. The loss of this port, the city and the kingdom had both political and strategic implications, as Wellington pointed out in a letter to the Secretary at War:
There is also another view in which the loss of Valencia is a shattering misfortune, and that it is this conquest, unlike the others which the enemy have made in Spain, that will promote the concentration of their forces. Even if Suchet should not be able to press on further to the southward than Valencia, and Soult should not be able to extend his troops so as communicate with Suchet through Murcia, Suchet will be able to communicate, by a shorter route than he had, with the army of the centre and the army of Portugal, and with the troops in Castile; he will be on the back of El Empecinado, Mina, and others, and will cut off supplies which they have received through Valencia.13
Wellington went on to point out that, prior to the inevitable fall of Valencia, the Spanish government blamed the subsequent ferment at Cádiz on his own failures (at Badajoz) in mid-1811; he also noted that Blake had been let down by the Valencian authorities who had failed to support Blake’s army with adequate resources and provisions. Blake had every reason to be annoyed, and it was little wonder he expressed a desire to leave the city immediately on signing the capitulation.14 Of course, if the fall of Valencia provided a shorter distance for Suchet to move west, it conversely enabled the forces in the west to move rapidly east and, as it turned out, this was to provide the very opportunity that Wellington had so eagerly sought. In January 1812 he pounced, securing Ciudad Rodrigo and then Badajoz before commencing his 1812 campaign. It opened up central Spain and it created opportunities on the east coast. To be able to exploit the latter Wellington needed the Anglo-Sicilian force and he needed the combined Spanish 2nd and 3rd armies to remain intact and in position to provide a block to the south (Soult) and west (Joseph et al). That is why José O’Donnell’s seemingly pointless attack on Harispe’s division infuriated Wellington and embarrassed the Cortes. However, as I have made clear in Chapter 5, O’Donnell has been judged harshly as his intentions were honourable if misguided.
Before moving to the principal British participants it is worth a brief look at Samford Whittingham and Philip Roche. Despite Whittingham’s journal being penned by his son, it is clear from this work and, more importantly from Spanish and other British primary sources which refer to Whittingham, that he was a highly proficient officer and a thoroughly nice chap. He committed himself entirely to his Majorcan Division and the soldiers therein. He often bankrolled the soldiers when the Spanish failed so to do. Whittingham summed up his achievements in a letter to his brother-in-law in October 1813:
A British lieutenant-colonel of little more than two years standing, he will not be surprised that being entrusted by Lord Wellington and the Spanish Government with the prospective command of 5,000 cavalry, should have raised the hopes of being serviceable to his country and its allies, to the highest pitch of enthusiasm. Had the Peninsular War been prolonged for a couple of years, the example of the Majorca division might have been repeated on a larger scale, by the cavalry of Spain, under the orders of an Englishman who had gained the confidence of the Duke of Wellington and the Spanish nation.15
I don’t share Whittingham’s optimism for his blueprint to be universally endorsed by the Spanish but I applaud his zeal. Regretfully, my research did not unearth a similarly forthright and honourable character when it came to Roche. A good example of his deceit is perhaps his post-battle report following the first battle of Castalla in which he paints a colourful picture of his exploits. The truth, when it came out, indicated an entirely different contribution to events. Wellington never forgave Roche this pretence. Roche’s letter book, which is meticulous, reinforces this Walter Mittyish side to his character in so much as he leaves out any correspondence which is in the slightest way critical of him or his command. In early 1814 Roche realising he had fallen foul of Wellington and, with no military acclaim from the east coast campaigns to offer by way of conciliation, he wrote the most extraordinary and lengthy letter to Wellington. It concluded:
I have, from beginning to ending, armed, clothed, and put into a useful state to the country, upwards of 18,000 Valencianos; and I therefore venture to propose to your Lordship that you will be pleased to direct four cuadros [regiments], or skeletons of regiments to be now sent to me, and I will undertake to assure you that in two months, or at the same moment that this blockade [Sagunto] is brought to a successful issue, your Lordship will have a reserve corps of not less than 10,000 of the finest men in the country, armed and equipped to march to any point you may be pleased to direct, under the command of one who from gratitude is more attached to your family than perhaps most other individuals in this country, and who therefore earnestly solicits your Lordship’s protection, and who has the honour to subscribe himself, with the highest respect and consideration.16
There is no record of Wellington ever having replied. In August 1814 Roche, having been left behind in Spain, wrote to the Military Secretary, Colonel Henry Torrens, and asked permission to accept a commission in the Spanish Army. Horse Guards wasted no time in responding that they were delighted at such a proposal. 17
Lieutenant General Lord William Henry Cavendish-Bentinck was an interesting if complicated individual. Some early historians, Fortescue for example, have severely chastised him for being a self-seeking liberal enthusiast. Recent studies, predominantly Rosselli’s work in 1974, have provided a more informed analysis of Bentinck’s motives. Muir sums this up as ‘Bentinck’s reforms in Sicily, although certainly informed by liberal ideas, were not the product of a Whig-mad ideologue; and the principal motives underlying them were the desire to make Sicily a more useful and reliable ally, and an inspiration to the patriots of Italy’.18 That is perfectly true but there is no doubt that Bentinck failed to grasp, or chose to ignore, the bigger picture. His fervour for Sicily and Italy took priority over other British policy objectives in the Mediterranean, most notably the east coast of Spain. His indecisiveness with regard to the provision and command of the Anglo-Sicilian force undoubtedly contributed to its stuttering performance. In September 1813 his decision to leave Spain at a critical time and return to Sicily was unfortunate but necessary, for the Sicilians were tiring of British occupation and had sent a deputation to London to protest at the behaviour of the British officers. By the following year, when Bentinck finally invaded north Italy and occupied Tuscany and Genoa, his plans for liberal constitutions were repudiated by the Austrians and not supported by the British government who, by now, no longer trusted Bentinck’s judgement.
There are a number of interesting parallels with Spain and Sicily. Both were, to a considerable extent, reliant on Britain for their survival and yet both executives were deeply uncomfortable and often unwilling to accept British advice. Historical and cultural differences played a part, and then there was a palpable fear of British imperialism, but it was perhaps the inability of Britain to sustain military support to these countries which caused the greatest frustration. In 1809 the large numbers of British troops sent to the Low Countries for the ill-fated Walcheren expedition could certainly have been better employed in Spain and Portugal and the use of the Anglo-Sicilian force as the nucleus of the spearhead for operations on the east coast of Spain created the ideal conditions for opponents within Sicily to cultivate Anglophobia.
Britain has never been good at sacking its generals when they err.19 By comparison consider how freely Napoleon relieved his commanders in Catalonia or how abundantly American commanders have been removed from key positions during the recent conflict in Afghanistan. Only two British generals were sent for trial by court martial during the long years of war between 1793 and 1815: John Whitelock and John Murray. The antics of the former in South America led to his dismissal from the service; Murray, as we have seen, was acquitted of all charges and found guilty of an error in judgement. Fortescue and Oman have condemned the outcome of the tribunal, with the former maintaining that the prosecution was ‘unskilfully conducted’ and that Murray ‘must be pilloried by history without mercy as a cowardly and dishonourable man, unworthy to hold his Sovereign’s Commission or to wear the red coat of a British soldier’.20 These are very strong words from a man who never donned a uniform in his life – but are they fair?
It is pertinent, at this point, to consider the man whose actions led to the court martial, Admiral Sir Benjamin Hallowell.21 Hallowell was American, although his exact birthplace is unclear. He served His Majesty’s ships from the age of 20 (slightly older than the average naval lieutenant) and had taken part in naval actions during the American and French revolutionary wars and the Napoleonic Wars. In 1798, when captaining HMS Swiftsure, he destroyed the French flagship L’Orient at the battle of the Nile and some while later sent Nelson a coffin made from the French ship’s mainmast. Nelson was delighted with the gift and was buried in the coffin post Trafalgar. Having fought as a captain at the battle of the Nile he was considered one of Nelson’s ‘Band of Brothers’, an accolade which gave him esteem and a tinge of egotism. Hallowell was a bull of a man who, like so many naval commanders, ruled his ship with a rod of iron, and he most certainly did not suffer fools gladly. In 1801 Hallowell was forced to surrender the Swiftsure when outpaced and caught by a French squadron, and, on return to England, he faced a court martial. This was an automatic consequence for a Royal Navy captain who lost his ship. He was acquitted ‘most honourably’.22 However, as a consequence of this rule and perhaps the more independent nature of their work, the Royal Navy had far more senior officers who had faced courts martial than the British army. This might explain why Hallowell was somewhat unconcerned that Murray should have to face a court martial for his actions as a direct result of Hallowell’s report to the commander of the Mediterranean Fleet. To a man like Hallowell, Murray was weak and indecisive, qualities that cost lives and ships. What he apparently failed to grasp was the very different way the army did their business and washed their dirty linen. There must have been a few times at Murray’s court martial in 1815 when Hallowell must have wondered if he was the one on trial. His handling of the prosecution of the third charge was decidedly amateur and the transcript provides a good insight into Hallowell’s character. However, the entire episode reinforced the very different way the two services conducted their business.
General Sir John Murray did not perform well in command of the Anglo-Sicilian force, there can be little doubt about that, but does he merit Fortescue’s damning indictment? After all he won at Castalla and was not beaten (as directed by Wellington) at Tarragona. True, he abandoned the siege in the most extraordinary manner, but his force was intact. The loss of his siege train was, in his opinion, a price worth paying; this is exactly the modus operandi the French would have adopted, for example. In many aspects, the amphibious landing of Murray’s army at Tarragona, the advance of the Spanish from the south and the linking up with the Spanish from the north, in order to lay siege to Tarragona, was one of the most complicated operations of the entire war. Firstly, the transportation, disembarkation, re-embarkation of troops and their subsequent support from a navy in the age of sail, despite being from the relative calm of the Mediterranean, was fraught with all manner of potential hazards. Siege warfare was not the British Army’s strongpoint and it is fair to state that the performance of Murray’s chief engineer, Thackeray, was absolutely woeful. Murray’s quartermastergeneral, Rufane Shaw Donkin, must also share considerable blame for his conduct and performance – something he was only too aware of following the debacle. Tarragona was not the first or the last military failure in the peninsula; yet the British people had become accustomed to success and historians seemed to expect it as a matter of fact. Indeed, Murray addressed this point in the opening remarks to his defence:
The British nation more particularly, has been accustomed to unite generosity with enthusiasm; and although the first burst of popular feeling, in cases of failure of military expeditions, has always been marked by a tumult of disapprobation; yet has the spirit of prejudice usually subsided with the ferment of disappointment, and yielded to the moderated feelings of fair and impartial enquiry.23
In many ways Murray’s nomination to command the Anglo-Sicilian force speaks volumes about the shortcomings of the appointments system at Horse Guards and, one could add, the system of purchasing commissions. It is therefore most appropriate that the last word on the matter should be made by the very man who appointed Murray – Colonel Henry Torrens, the Military Secretary, from a letter he wrote to Wellington:
Murray’s failure has caused a devil of a breeze in this country. You know, right or wrong, John Bull will condemn ill success; but although I cannot subscribe to all the illiberal and unfounded aspersions thrown against Murray, yet as far as one can judge of what we have heard, it is impossible not to condemn the fatal error of judgement which led to such a precipitate abandonment of the siege of Tarragona. It should never have been undertaken unless he could have made up his mind to risk an action against a probably superiority of force in the event of interruption. Murray, I think, might have placed more confidence in the troops he had with him; and he ought to have known the country better than to have adopted a course of too great caution when once committed in an enterprise. I confess I am very sorry for him; for although not a popular man in the service, there appeared to me to be professional points about him which deserved a better fate.24
Following his court martial, Murray petitioned the Prince Regent for the Order of the Bath – he was unsuccessful. John Bull certainly did not condone failure, but I wonder if history has not been disapprovingly judgemental in the case of John Murray and the achievements of the Anglo-Sicilian corps.