Salamanca 1812: Some Eyewitness Accounts

by Jacqueline Reiter

The Peninsular War is somewhat out of my remit. My research interest, the 2nd Earl of Chatham, did not serve there (having irretrievably blotted his copybook at Walcheren in 1809: he was never employed again). Several of his former aides-de-camp, however, did go to the Peninsula and kept their former superior officer up to date with behind-the-scenes information on the campaign.

Battle of Salamanca from Wikimedia Commons

On 22 July 1812, Arthur Wellesley, Lord Wellington fought a battle against French Marshal Marmont in the vicinity of Salamanca. The extremely bloody battle (more than 5000 casualties on the British and Portuguese side, and about 13,000 on the French side) was a resounding victory for Wellington, although, for a variety of reasons, that victory was not immediately followed up.

Three officers connected with Chatham were heavily involved in the campaign of 1812. Lieutenant-Colonel Henry Hollis Bradford had been Chatham's aide in the Eastern District and at Walcheren, and Colonel Andrew Francis Barnard of the 95th Rifles had been with Chatham in the Southern District. General William Henry Pringle, who took command of General Leith's division during the battle, was married to Chatham's favourite niece, Harriot Hester. The three of them all left interesting accounts of the famous battle and its aftermath.

1. Lieutenant-Colonel Henry Bradford

 Lieutenant-Colonel Bradford (1781-1816) was an Assistant Adjutant-General at Salamanca. On 10 September 1812 he wrote a very long letter to Lord Chatham reporting on the battle and its immediate aftermath.[1] Bradford was obviously impressed by the British efforts and rather less so by those of the Portuguese. Of the Spanish, the less said the better.

My dear Lord,

You will have received with March's dispatch [2] the account of our late operations which have been attended with more success than the most sanguine could have expected, & have been more interesting & instructive than any thing this army had before witnessed in the Peninsula.

... No-one ever doubted that an English army could fight, & now it must be admitted they can also manoeuvre, & may be trusted to attack as well as defend. I never saw more coolness & obedience to orders than was shewn by that part of the Army with which I was engaged on the 22d of July, & the Portuguese, animated by the example of the British, did all that could be expected of them ... Whenever the Portuguese met with a check which on some point was the case, they rallied in a very creditable manner.

... Our late successes & rapid advance to the Capital, (so unexpected) really appeared like a dream. Had Marmont contented himself at Salamanca, with turning us at a respectful distance which would have answered his purpose quite as well (as he never wish'd to fight), we shou'd have had no Battle, & Lord Wellington would have retired beyond the Agueda, & at this moment we might have been at the old work of guarding the Frontier.

... After looking at each other across the River for several days, during which time Marmont was amusing himself with various manoeuvres which appear'd to have no effect, he at length play'd us a trick which compleatly succeeded. After being join'd by Bonnet ... & his Army being encreased, to about 45,000 men, he prepared to recross the River. ... About 2000 Men as it afterwards appeared cross'd ... & by lengthening out their Column made the appearance of a considerable Body. This Feint had compleat success & induced Lord Wellington who was of course extremely jealous of his Communication with Salamanca, to put the whole Army in motion to its left. Marmont was prepared for this, & the moment our Troops were withdrawn from before Tordelalosa he cross'd his Army at that Place, & moved by Narva del Rey to Castrejon where he came up on the 18th of July with your 4th [3] & Light Division & Cavalry, with which Lord Wellington made a stand to see whether the enemy was bringing up all his Force. This brought on an affair which terminated very creditably to us.

... On the morning of the 20th ... the Enemy moved off to his Left to turn our Right & gain the great Road to Salamanca at Cantalpino. The moment Lord W[ellington] perceived their object he moved us by a short Line to Cantalpino. During this movement the two Armies were within range of Cannon, & perfectly in sight of each other, the French marching along a ridge of Hills & we in the Plain ... This parallel Movement was extremely well conducted on both sides and was as fine a military Spectacle as can be imagined.

... Early the next morning (the 21st) their [the French] Army appeared on the Right of Babillafuente about a League & a half from us & shortly after were seen moving to their Left & crossing the Tormes at the Ford of La Huerta.

When about half their Columns had passed the River we began to move & cross'd the Tormes at the Ford of El Canto & S[an]ta Martha. ... On the 22nd we were brought up in a Position, as soon as the Enemy appeared in Motion. The Event of this most glorious day Your Lordship must by this time be so well acquainted with, that I can have very little to add to the information you have already received. Lord Wellington's dispatch has not quite explained the cause of the check the 4th Division met with nor has he, I think, done justice to that part of the 6th Divn which came up to their support, particularly Genl Hulse Brigade whose Conduct as well as that of its General was most distinguish'd. The attack made by the 3rd & 5th Divisions was completely successful & they carried every thing before them, but the 4th had greater difficulties to encounter, their left Flank, where was station'd a Portuguese Brigade, being quite en l'air in consequence of the failure of Genl Pack's attack on one of the Hills call'd the Arepiles [sic - Arapiles].

... Lord Wellington left Madrid about a fortnight since & by our last accouonts the 4th he was at Valladolid from whence Bonnet with about 15,000 men had retired in the direction of Burgos, where our Army were preparing to follow him. It is said that the remains of Marmont's Army does not exceed altogether 23,000 men.

... You will expect to hear of great Exertions making by the Spaniards but I am sorry to say they are as slothful as ever. The specimen we have had of the much talked of Gallician Army does not lead us to expect a great deal from them.

I have lately changed my Divn and am now with the 4th.[4] ... The 3rd Light Divn are at Madrid, where [Andrew Francis] Barnard is the gayest of the gay. ... I have seen a great deal of Pringle since he join'd the army. He had a most fortunate Escape on the 22nd July. His horse was kill'd under him & before he fell received 7 Balls.

... Should your Lordship have had patience to get to the conclusion of this tremendous long Letter pray have the goodness to give my kindest regards to Lady Chatham & to thank her for the present which Lord Charles Manners delivered to me.

Believe me to be ever
My dear Lord
Your most faithful & obliged
HH Bradford

2. Major-General William Henry Pringle

Pringle (ca 1771 - 1844) had more to say on the subject of his "fortunate Escape" in a letter home to his wife, Harriot Hester, written on 23 July 1812, the day after the Battle of Salamanca. Pringle's Brigade was one of the two that were lucky enough to capture an Eagle from the French.

Those of you of a squeamish disposition, or those of you against violence committed upon animals, would probably do best to look away now.[5]

Alba de Tormes, 23 July 1812

I write you these few lines my adored Harriet in hopes of being able to send them with Lord Wellingtons dispatches, to tell you that I am perfectly well, & have escaped unhurt from a severe & bloody Action we had yesterday, in which my Brigade was much engaged. The Action ... ended most gloriously for us, [and] in the entire rout of the French, who now I think will be quiet for some time ...

From Gen[era]l Leith [6] being wounded early in the Action, I succeeded to the command of the Division ... The fortune de la Guerre was particularly favourable to me, as I had some narrow escapes. My Horse was shot under me, in seven places, & my sword shot from my side, without my being in the least hurt. Your Bay Mare met with an honorable death in the field of Battle, but I cannot tell you how much I regret the poor animal, both from her being your property, & from the suffering & exertions she made for me. After having her Eyes shot out, & seven Bullets in different parts of her body, she continued to carry me for near an hour, before she died ...

My Brigade took an Eagle, among other Trophys [sic] from the French, & I was very well satisfied with their conduct. If you should see Lord Chatham tell him his two battalions behaved extremely well, & fortunately have not met with much loss.[7]

... You may be now perfectly at ease, as the French have got such a drubbing they are retiring as fast as they can. ... Give my love to the dear Children, & I am for ever, your faithful & affectionate Husband WH Pringle.

3. Lieutenant-Colonel Andrew Francis Barnard

Barnard (1773 - 1855) commanded a light brigade at Salamanca. He wrote to Chatham on 28 November 1812 to explain why very little had happened, and why the British army had retreated back into Portugal as a result of a subsequent meeting between portions of the French army. The Spanish forces do not seem to have impressed Barnard any more than they did Bradford.[8]

Sir Andrew Francis Barnard in later years
from Wikimedia Commons

My dear Lord,

The campaign has closed for the winter and we are once more in our quarters behind the Ajueda. The hardships which we have undergone during the latter part of our retreat has [sic] served to reconcile us to the Cottages of the frontier of old Castile which we might otherwise have felt uncomfortable after inhabiting the palaces of Madrid.

I have no doubt but what our retreat which is the necessary consequence of the union of the French armys [sic] will by some be magnifyed [sic] into a disaster, but the country which we occupied is such an open plain that no part of it affords a position which will delay the advance of an enemy very superior in numbers and particularly in cavalry for a day.

It is true the Tormes had fortune favored us might for some time have afforded a considerable obstacle, but unluckily for us the weather was obstinately fine for some days during our stay at Salamanca by which it became fordable in every point, and with equal bad fortune the sky began to pour torrents the very hour that we commenced our retreat and continued so till we arrived in the neighborhood of Ciudad de Rodrigo.

... Notwithstanding our [cause?] has not the same brilliant effect that it had when Lord Wellington dated his dispatches from Madrid yet on the whole more has been effected during the campaign than was expected at the commencement of it and our late retreat has been the consequence of our success. ...

The greatest part of Spain has been abandoned by the French and all their ports of communication destroyed but in consequence of these circumstances the whole of their force is united and we are obliged to retire, and unfortunately we cannot resume the offensive untill spring for want of forage. Soult and King Joseph [9] are now on their way to Madrid, which hitherto the French have not ventured to retain. ... The Spaniards get worse and worse little assistance can be expected from them. The French hold their armys [sic] in such contempt that they cannot even make a diversion in our favor ...

I have many thanks to return for your kind letter which was transmitted to me by Hood, it makes me blush for having been so idle a correspondent but Madrid is of all places the most seducing and most calculated to employ every moment of the 24 hours in doing nothing. ... I beg to be most kindly remembered to Lady Chatham and remain with the greatest regard and respect.

My dear Lord
Your faithfull & Obliged Humble Servant
A F Barnard

Notes and References

[1] Henry Hollis Bradford to Lord Chatham, 10 September 1812, National Archives Chatham MSS PRO 30/8/365 f 227
[2] Lord March, later 5th Duke of Richmond, was one of Wellington's ADCs
[3] Chatham was Colonel of the 4th "King's Own" Regiment of Foot
[4] Commanded by Sir Galbraith Lowry Cole, who had been wounded at Salamanca, temporarily commanded by Major-General William Anson
[5] William Henry Pringle to Harriot Hester Pringle, 23 July 1812, John Rylands Library Pringle MSS Eng MS 1273 f 5
[6] Lieutenant General James Leith was in command of the 5th Division. Pringle took over command when he was wounded
[7] A reference to the two battalions of the 4th "King's Own", who formed a significant part of the brigade under Pringle's command
[8] Andrew Francis Barnard to Lord Chatham, 28 November 1812, National Archives Chatham MSS PRO 30/8/365 f 174
[9] Napoleon's brother Joseph Bonaparte, King of Spain

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jacqueline Reiter has a Phd in 18th century political history. She is currently working on the first ever biography of John Pitt, 2nd Earl of Chatham, due to be released by Pen & Sword Books in September 2016. When she finds time she blogs about her historical discoveries at http://alwayswantedtobeareiter.wordpress.com/, and can be found on Twitter as https://twitter.com/latelordchatham.

The Siege of Badajoz ~ 6 April 1812

by M.M. Bennetts

The Peninsular War had been raging for four years--since 1808.  But now it was early 1812, a moment of transition during which Napoleon withdrew over 15,000 troops for his intended invasion of Russia.

Not only that, but from his imperfect understanding of the situation in Spain, the emperor issued very dodgy orders to his Marechals, sending them off in different directions to take on what they were led to believe was a much smaller and disease-weakened British army.

Those orders couldn't have been more wrong or misdirected.

The Duke of Wellington, the Commander in Chief of the combined British, Spanish and Portuguese forces, sensed the tide was turning and moved from his winter quarters in Portugal to take on the two great fortresses which guarded the two main roads into Spain, Ciudad Rodrigo in the north, and Badajoz in the south--known as the keys to Spain.

Ciudad Rodrigo fell to the British on 19 January 1812.

Within days, by the 25th, Wellington was making preparations to move south to take Badajoz--the fortress they'd twice already failed to take.

But upon their arrival before the walls of Badajoz on 16 March, the British troops discovered what Wellington had known since the 6th March, when he had privately reconnoitred there.

Bordered to the north by the raging Guadiana River, the fortress's towering ochre walls and angular bastions--all of them 30 feet high, and all glowing warm and golden in the afternoon sun--were nearly impregnable now, thanks to the work of the French commander, General Armand Phillipon. The western side of the fortress had been heavily mined, the castle to the northeast had been fortified as had the outlying forts to the south (which was now attached to the main defences) and on the north side of the river. 

The eastern side was now virtually impassable due to the damming of a small stream...Not only that, but an additional outwork had been constructed in the south-eastern corner, called Fort Picurina.

It didn't look good.

Still, Wellington had had his 52 iron guns brought up from Elvas, and over 27,000 troops available--though the corps of miners and sappers which he had repeatedly requested from the Government had not been provided. Nevertheless, in the heavy rain of 17th March, at dusk, the siege began, with the British troops digging to open up the first parallel not more than 200 yards from Fort Picurina.  (The many Irish troops viewed the date a good omen.)

The howling of the wind and the heavy rain had drowned out the sounds of the digging, of the picks and shovels, and by morning, the parallel was defensible.

But not for long.

For the French opened up a ceaseless barrage of heavy artillery to pour down on their besiegers. On the 22nd, as the rain fell violently and in torrents, flooding the trenches, the rapidly rising waters of the Guadiana swept away their pontoon bridge, cutting Wellington's army in two.

Unfazed, the British carried on.  And when the weather cleared on the afternoon on the 24th, the French could look down on six batteries of artillery, armed with 28 heavy cannon. The French had nothing more than a few Portuguese-built, ancient brass pieces, used in previous sieges. At 11 a.m. on the 25th, the British guns opened fire on Fort Picurina and at nightfall, the Allies stormed it.

After a long night of fighting, and some 250 casualties (about the same number on both sides) the fort was taken.

Over the next several days, additional batteries were established, and the walls of the fortress were now under the constant fire of Wellingtons' 38 guns.  But Allied casualties were high too.

Then, on the 6th April, Easter Sunday 1812, Wellington was informed that by nightfall, three breaches would be opened up in the fortress's southern sector.  Furthermore, he received news that the French, under General Soult, were stirring in southern Spain, and to the north, Ciudad Rodrigo was in danger too.

Though he might have wished for more time, now it seemed he no longer had that luxury.  The storming was ordered for 7.30 that evening, led by the Light and 4th Divisions.  In the event, it was not launched till 10.00.

It was a launching into hell itself.

Unbeknownst to the British, the breaches had been cleared of the rubble and booby-trapped, mined, laid with trains of powder, and fitted with planks studded with spikes a foot long, and chevaux-frises (iron crows' feet).  The ditches too had been laid with fougasses (small mines) and pitted with mudholes.   The defenders were further armed with hand grenades, incendiaries, and extra muskets.  And across the breaches too were hundreds of captured sword blades--the finest of Toledo steel, sharpened and fastened down with chains. In the fraught silence of that humid night, the troops waited.

Then, a single fire-ball lit the sky, casting its bright light over the scarlet columns of the advancing British and the shadowy hunched figures awaiting them atop the fortress walls.

The first 500 of the 'forlorn hope' stormed forward with their ladders.  An instant later, they were all dead, blown to pieces by exploding mines and powder-barrels rolling down on them from the ramparts.  So too, the second 'forlorn hope'.

Over the next two hours, more than 40 assaults would be launched and driven back under murderous fire and defences, until the ditch--a space of quite literally less than 100 yards across--was filled with the bodies of dead and dying troops, some 2200 men.

As one survivor, William Lawrence wrote:  "I was one of the ladder party...On our arriving at...the wall...a shower of shot, canister and grape, together with fireballs was hurled...amongst us.  Poor Pig [Harding] received his death wound immediately...while I myself received two small...shots in my left knee, and a musket shot in my side...Still, I stuck to my ladder and got into the [ditch].

"Numbers had by this time fallen, but...we hastened to the breach.  There, to our great...discouragement, we found a cheval de frise had been fixed...Vain attempts were made to remove this fearful obstacle, during which my left hand was fearfully cut by one of the blades, but, finding no success in that quarter, we were forced to retire for a time...My wounds were still bleeding, and I began to feel very weak.

"My comrades persuaded me to go to the rear, but this proved a task of great difficulty, for on arriving at the ladders, I found them filled with the dead and wounded, hanging...just as they had fallen...so I crawled on my hands and knees till I got out of reach of the enemy's muskets."

George Simmons of the Light Division wrote:  "Our columns moved on under a most dreadful fire...that mowed down our men like grass...Eight or ten officers and men innumerable fell to rise no more.  Ladders were resting against the counter-scarp...Down these we hurried and...rushed forward to the breaches, where a most frightful scene of carnage was going on.  Fifty times they were stormed, and as often without effect, the French cannon sweeping the breaches with a most destructive fire."

Other combatants wrote of how some 21 officers of their regiment were either killed or wounded or how upon reaching the heights their fellows were pushed back to fall onto the bayonets of their comrades below. 

By midnight, the night air laden, clotted with cordite and gunpowder, the thunder and shrieking of artillery and the screaming cries of dying men, it appeared that all was lost.

Setting his face though, Wellington sent orders to General Picton to lead one final assault to storm the Castle in the north-east corner. It succeeded.  And although Picton himself was wounded, his men of the 3rd Division gained a foothold.

Furthermore, to the north-west, the 5th Division managed to scale the walls, and running through the town, attacked the French defending the breaches from the rear.

Resistance collapsed.  The French garrison were forced to lay down their arms.

The British and Portuguese troops who now flooded the streets of the city exacted a terrible revenge for the butchery of the past hours.  Maddened with drink, frenzied with rage over the hideous loss of so many of their comrades there and at Ciudad Rodrigo, wild with vengeance, they pillaged, raped and murdered in the worst atrocity committed by Wellington's troops during the whole of the Peninsular Campaign.

It was not so much a sacking--which the then 'rules of war' deemed appropriate or at least understandable after such a siege of enormous cost--but a mutiny.

As Robert Blakeney wrote:  "There was no safety for women even in the churches, and any who interfered or offered resistence were sure to get shot.  Every house presented a scene of plunder, debauchery and bloodshed committed with wanton cruelty...When the savages came to a door which had been locked or barricaded, they applied the muzzle...of a dozen firelocks...and fired them off together into the house and rooms, regardless of those inside...Men, women and children were shot..."

Officers who tried to control their men were themselves shot. On the morning after the siege, Wellington visited the dead and at the sight of so many of his men, and his friends, destroyed--nearly 5000 of them--he broke down and wept  in front of his astonished staff.

Still weeping, he returned to his tent and wrote to the Minister for War in London:  "The capture of Badajoz affords as strong an instance of the gallantry of our troops as has ever been displayed.  But I greatly hope that I shall never again be the instrument of putting them to such a test..."

He also issued a General Order that "It is full time that the plunder of Badajoz should cease..." 

Unwisely, the drunken troops ignored his order.

So on the next day, the 8th, the Bloody Provost was sent in to stop their 'enjoyment' by erecting a gallows and overseeing the flogging of many. It was a terrible aftermath--so terrible that when the reports became public in London, there were those MPs who, appalled by the ruination and damning dishonour, demanded an end to all British involvement on the Peninsula.   

Yet, through the sacrifice of so many, Spain was now open to the Allied troops.  And from this position of strength, they would defeat the French and force them out of Spain, and would eventually advance all the way to Paris and an end to the Napoleon's domination of Continental Europe.

(And yes, Jane Austen knew...)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

M.M. Bennetts is a specialist in early 19th century British and European history and the Napoleonic wars and is the author of two novels, May 1812 and Of Honest Fame set during the period.  A third novel, Or Fear of Peace, is due out in 2014.

For further information, please visit the website and historical blog at www.mmbennetts.com

Juana Smith: After Waterloo

by Lauren Gilbert

One of my favourite true romances is the love story of Harry Smith and Juana Maria de Los Dolores de Leon. Their meeting after the fall of Badajob in 1812, when Harry was 24 and already a seasoned military veteran and when Juana was 14 and only recently out of a convent school resulted in a wedding 2 weeks later, with Wellington giving the bride away.

Juana followed the drum, staying with Harry as he fought his way through the Peninsular Wars until Bonaparte’s abdication in 1814. They were separated almost immediately when Harry was sent to America during the War of 1812 (he was there from April of 1814 until March of 1815, while she waited for him in England). He returned to England just in time to be sent to the continent following Napoleon’s escape from Elba, and Juana went with him. The climax of the story would seem to have been Waterloo, with the lovers reuniting after the battle.

If you have not already read their story thus far, you can read it in detail in THE AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF LT. GENERAL SIR HARRY SMITH BARONET OF ALIWAL ON THE SUTLEJ G.C.B., edited by G. C. Moore Smith, MA. which was first published in 1901 (it is available online, in print and as an e-book). Their love story is also referenced in John Kincaid’s memoirs, and is the subject of Georgette Heyer’s novel, THE SPANISH BRIDE. Although their romantic marriage and early married life is a wonderful story, what happened to them after Waterloo? For many soldiers, the end of the Napoleonic Wars marked the end of their careers. As with so many great stories, my question was, “What happens next?”

Harry was an ambitious man, with a fierce desire to succeed and advance in his chosen career, the Army. Juana had literally grown up in the Army, with Harry as much her commanding officer as her husband. This is hardly a combination that would result in a return to a quiet life in England for them as a couple. Juana seemed to have lost contact with any surviving family members in Spain, and despite having established an affectionate relationship with Harry’s family, had no reason to want to be in England without him. Their nearest and dearest friends, including 2 of Harry’s brothers, were in the military. So their peripatetic life continued...

Then a major, Harry was appointed by General Lambert to be the Town Major in Cambrai, France after Waterloo, in 1816, with an improved pay rate. He and Juana established a busy life, maintaining their friendship with Wellington, who maintained an interest in Harry’s career. They hunted, went to balls, and were favourites at official functions, apparently enjoying an active (and expensive) social life. The occupation ended, and they returned to England in October of 1818.

Before their return, in an effort to recoup some money, Harry decided to raffle his horse Lochinvar. Tickets were sold (including one purchased by Juana) and, much to everyone’s surprise, Juana’s ticket won.

Once returned to England, Harry was assigned to Glasgow in 1819 because of mob activity in the north, and Juana accompanied him. They were in Scotland until 1825, when Harry was posted to Ireland. However, that stay was fairly brief as in September of that year, Harry was ordered to Halifax Nova Scotia, commanding 2 ½ companies of his regiment. By all accounts, Harry and Juana had fun in Nova Scotia enjoying their usual active life among the military, even though money was short.

In November of 1825, they relocated again, to Jamaica, where Harry was to assume the rank of Lieutenant Colonel and serve as Deputy Quarter Master General. Right after they landed at Kingston, Jamaica, Harry was confronted by poor management and a yellow fever epidemic. During her time with the army in the Peninsula, Juana had learned to deal with issues of illness and injury, and accompanied Harry in his efforts to combat the disease, establishing convalescent camps. After a year, the epidemic was over, and Harry and Juana were happily settled in a home in the mountains.

However, because of his success in Jamaica, Harry was ordered to be Deputy Quarter Master General at the Cape of Good Hope, in South Africa in 1829. (They did take an opportunity in route to visit Harry’s famiy before continuing on.)

Once they arrived at the Cape of Good Hope, they again settled into a comfortable home and an active life with hunting, visiting and social events with friends in a fairly peaceful fashion until 1834. However, Harry was occupied with civil as well as military responsibilities.

On January 1, 1835, because of an uprising of the Kaffir tribes, Harry had to leave for Grahamstown, 600 miles away. A serious and dangerous situation, Harry still made time to write to Juana every day of what turned into a long separation. While Harry was away, Juana was kept busy with friends, attending balls and other social affairs, teaching in a school for African girls, and other civic activities. She also joined the Church of England.

During the time of their separation, Harry suggested she write down their story and would not hear of her joining him. Largely because of Harry’s efforts and successes, peace was finally restored, and Harry was put in charge of the newly- created Adelaide province and Juana was able to rejoin him in June of 1835. Although at peace, the area was still unsettled, and Juana was able to assist Harry by trying to influence Kaffir women.

Despite his apparent successes, Harry was removed from his post in Adelaide Province in 1837, which could have been a career disaster, but the Duke of Wellington’s influence resulted in Harry’s appointment as Adjutant General in India. After a stormy voyage, in June of 1840, the Smiths arrived in Madras, and went on to Calcutta, to be greeted by old friends and acquaintances. Although Harry was not immediately comfortable with Sir Jasper Nicholls, the commander in chief, Juana made friends with Sir Jasper’s daughters. A significant advantage to India was the ability to live a comfortable life on less money; another was the possibility of advancement.

At this time, India was embroiled in conflict with Afghanistan. This as a volatile and dangerous time; hostages were taken and unrest made many things difficult. In December of 1843, the British decided to attack at Maharajpore. The army was accompanied by Juana and several other officer’s wives riding on elephants. The ladies came under fire, but apparently escaped unscathed, and Juana received a special medal for bravery from Queen Victoria. The battle won, the Governor General ordered medals made from the captured canons, one of which was awarded to Juana. Harry also had a special gold star brooch made for her.

In 1845, the Sikh wars began and Harry was given command of the 1st Infantry Division. Harry was heavily involved in the action through 1846 until final success. Juana could not be with him on this campaign, and for at least part of the time was ill with a tropical fever. Because of his valor and success, Harry was awarded a baronetcy, made a Knight of the Grand Cross of the Order of the Bath and received great acclaim.

Finally, after 18 years away, they were allowed to return to England. On arrival in Southampton in April of 1847, Harry and Juana were welcomed by crowds and taken to London in a private train. Harry was heaped with honors, and they were able to attend a dinner for veterans of the Light Division, a detailed report of which was written up in the Times. Juana also came in for her share of acclaim. At this time, Harry was 60 and Juana 49 years old. They returned to Harry’s famiy home in Whittlesey for a time.

In Glasgow, Harry was invited to become Member of Parliament (an unpaid position at that time). Despite the title and acclaim, the financial aspect of his success was less than satisfactory. Again, Wellington’s influence helped, and Harry was appointed governor of the Cape of Good Hope and awarded the rank of Lieutenant General. Between his military successes in India, and subsequent vindication of his previous policies in Africa, Harry (who had stayed current with affairs in Africa) seemed the obvious person to replace the current governor. Finances resolved, Juana, now Lady Smith, embarked with Harry on September 24 1847 for Cape Town.

Circumstances in Africa were not what they were during the Smiths’ previous stay, and Harry was no longer an impetuous youth, but a rather arrogant, bad tempered and impetuous older man without a commanding officer to keep him grounded. He managed to offend native chiefs and local people with aggressive policies and over estimated his own influence with the Boer settlers. A military action against the Boers was successful, although Harry was wounded. (Juana was awarded a pension of 500 lbs per year by the queen.)

After Harry returned to Cape Town in Oct. 1848, Juana was relieved of anxiety and ready to take part in social activities. Unfortunately, her Spanish formality and fondness for Spanish fashions and colourful fabrics was not admired. Juana and Harry also caused some concern in the conservative community as Harry was perceived as dangerously tolerant while Juana, in an effort to reach out to the Indian and Malay communities, attended some displays of local dancing that was considered unacceptable.

At the same time, they were faced with the prospect of Cape Colony receiving convicts due to a shortage of prisons. The local settlers were, of course, opposed to this, and Harry and Juana sympathized with them. In spite of everything, a ship was sent to Bermuda to pick up prisoners to take to Cape Town. Although Harry wrote repeatedly to prevent this, the ship arrived and was anchored off shore. Although the ship was ultimately sent on to Tasmania, the entire episode was a severe strain on both Harry and Juana. Subsequent unrest and disastrous policies resulted in both of them suffering ill health and a loss of popularity, as well as severe political unrest and division. Harry was dismissed from his position in March of 1852. Harry was ill when they left Cape Town, and Juana cried as they boarded ship to return to England.

Once back in England, they did not resign themselves to a quiet life, and once again, the Duke of Wellington's influence helped. Harry had subsequent appointments, including one as a delegate to Lisbon to invest Don Pedro V with the Order of the Garter when Don Pedro married Princess Stephanie. He and Juana attended the festivities at Buckingham Palace for the princess on her way to Lisbon. In September 1859, Harry left his last post, which was in Manchester, and the Smiths moved to London. Although he continued to write, offering himself for other posts, none were forthcoming and he died Oct 12, 1860 at age 73.

Juana lived on, cared for by family and friends, until her death Oct. 10, 1872. She was buried in Harry’s tomb at St. Mary’s in Whittlesey, as Harry had wanted. In spite of many ups and downs, financial worries, and political disasters, I think it can be truly said that Harry and Juana Smith truly achieved the happy-ever-after ending in spite of having no children. She experienced his life with him. They were devoted to each other their whole lives. Juana Smith travelled the world with her beloved husband, and was allowed to take part in events that most women of her time could hardly have imagined. The township of Windsor in South Africa was renamed Ladysmith for her in 1850. As a couple, they seemed to live a charmed life, surviving multiple hardships and disasters together.


Sources include:

The History Blog. “Sir Harry and Lady Smith.” By Megan Abigail white, posted March 17, 2010. http://meganabigail.blogspot.com/2010/03/sir-harry-and-lady-smith.html

Look and Learn History Picture Library. “An unlikely love story set against the backdrop of the Peninsular War.” Posted June 5, 2013 (from an article published June 3 1967). http://www.lookandlearn.com/blog/24858/an-unlikely-love-story-set-against-the-backdrop-of-the-peninsular-war

Peterborough Telegraph. “IN FOCUS: Wild about Harry-the hero of Aliwal-and Juana, his teenage Spanish bride.” Posted Aug. 26, 2004. http://www.peterboroughtoday.co.uk/news/local/in-focus-wild-about-harry-the-hero-of-aliwal-and-juana-his-teenage-spanish-bride-1-150736

Rooney, David & Scott, Michael. IN LOVE & WAR The Lives of General Sir Harry Smith and Lady Smith. 2008: Pen & Sword Military, Barnsley, South Yorkshire.

Of course, Harry Smith’s autobiography is also a must-read.

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Lauren Gilbert lives in Florida, with her husband. Her first novel was published in 2011, and a second one is in process.

The Local Militia Act of 1808

by Jacqui Reiter

"An army somehow or other we must have"[1]: finding men to fight Napoleon...

During the wars with revolutionary and Napoleonic France between 1793 and 1815 British political opinion on the role of a large standing army changed. The fight against a strongly militaristic power, both offensively in Europe and defensively against invasion, pointed towards the need for a steady and reliable source of manpower. After the failure of the Peace of Amiens in 1803 it was obvious to the politicians that the war might go on for a long time. A permanent solution was required to the manpower problem, but it took many years, and many abortive attempts, for that solution to be found.

For most of the period after the resumption of war in 1803 Britain fought against France bereft of allies. This left her vulnerable to invasion and there was a big scare from 1803 until 1805, and periodic nervousness from 1807 until 1810. Ireland had rebelled in 1798 and, although shackled to Britain through the Act of Union, rebelled again in 1803.

Britain needed an army that was big enough to garrison Ireland, repel any invading force, defend overseas possessions and fight in Europe, should any opportunity to intervene on the continent present itself. It was a tall order, particularly given that the politicians were reluctant to fall back on compulsory military service.

At the start of the war in 1803 Britain had about 100,000 soldiers worldwide, as well as 60,000 militia. These were impressive numbers but recruitment into the army suffered from the way the militia was raised. The militia was the closest Britain came to outright conscription and raised by ballot, but it could not serve outside Britain (even sending them to Ireland was problematic) and richer men could buy a substitute to serve in their place.

Since those substitutes were usually the kind of men who were recruited into the army, there was serious competition between the two forces. Militia drafts into the regulars had been relied on in emergencies during the 1790s, but they were deeply unpopular. Matters were not improved when the government called for a nationwide volunteering movement to defend against invasion during the summer of 1803. At its height 350,000 men responded to the call, but volunteers often served very locally, were exempt from the militia ballot and, again, took valuable manpower away from the regulars.

The first attempt to provide a permanent solution for the manpower problem was the Army of Reserve Act, passed by Henry Addington's government in July 1803. The Act provided for a total of 50,000 men to be balloted throughout the United Kingdom. The Reserve was separate from the militia and actively encouraged to recruit into the regulars. The Act was slow to implement, however, and after a year only 37,000 men had been raised.

When Pitt the Younger returned to office in 1804 he replaced the Reserve with a 'Permanent Additional Force'. Each parish was given a quota of men to raise for locally based 'second battalions' attached to the regulars. The men received a bounty if they transferred voluntarily into the regular battalion. Unfortunately the Additional Force suffered from the emphasis on a quota rather than on a ballot, and most parishes preferred to pay a fine rather than go through the expense of raising the required force. By the time of its repeal in July 1806 the Additional Force was only 24,000 strong.

Its replacement was William Windham's Training Act. Windham, Secretary of State for War in the Ministry of All the Talents, ambitiously aimed to train 200,000 balloted men in the use of arms. At the same time he planned to make the army more palatable by introducing limited service for seven years, increasing salary, and improving pension schemes for veterans and widows. The Act proved too cumbersome to implement, and only a list of men eligible for the ballot had been drawn up by the time it was repealed. It did not raise a single man.

When the Talents ministry fell in 1807, the new government under the Duke of Portland made recruitment a priority. Windham's successor at the War Office was Viscount Castlereagh, and it was he who finally cracked the problem that had been baffling his predecessors for so long.

His solution was the 1808 Local Militia Act. It was the first measure that managed to meet both temporary and future needs. The Act provided for 200,000 men to be balloted to serve four years, and a proportion of them would be encouraged to recruit to the regulars in return for a bounty. Like Windham's Training Act, Castlereagh wanted to create a trained body of men for the regulars to use as a recruiting resource.

Castlereagh's Local Militia was the culmination of the route from a combination of volunteers, militia and regulars to a centralised system closely bound to the army. Historians have fallen into the trap of taking the term 'local militia' at its face value and, given Castlereagh's reputation as a reactionary, have characterised his Act as 'a conservative riposte' to radical views (in the words of J.E. Cookson in The British Armed Nation). Castlereagh himself went to great lengths to justify his measure as traditional:

'He had … avoided every thing that appeared mighty ingenious, because he knew very well, that on all subjects, and especially on military subjects, these ingenious and complicated theories, though they might look extremely well on paper, were found to be sadly deficient when attempted to be put into practice' (Speech, 22 July 1807)

Castlereagh's words should not be taken literally, for they were a dig at the Training Act and meant to reassure those of his listeners who disagreed with it. The Local Militia was in any case not a 'militia' on the old model. Despite its local flavour its aim was to enlarge the standing army, not reduce it. Any measure which codified the use of the militia to feed the regulars was hardly conservative. Once the Local Militia had broken through the taboo against using the draft to recruit for the army the government was able to draw about ten thousand men from the 'old' militia almost every year.

The plan had some flaws, such as the tendency to draft overlarge numbers of men into the regulars in one go, but the Local Militia proved to be the flexible plan the politicians had been looking for. Short of outright conscription it was the best way of producing a pool of armed men who could be called on for a variety of purposes at home and abroad. It created a large armed force for domestic defence, and when Britain returned to the offensive in the Peninsula in 1808 it adapted well to the new circumstances.

The Local Militia Act was the most long-lived of the manpower acts of the Napoleonic Wars. It remained in force until the peace in 1814. By 1809 it was nearly 200,000 strong, and at its peak in 1812 it consisted of 240,000 men. In 1813 Britain had a force of nearly 315,000 regulars available globally, and this was in no small part thanks to Castlereagh's legislation. Britain could once again be described as a force to be reckoned with.

[1] Title quotation from a letter from Lord Grenville to the Marquis of Buckingham, 19 June 1803, Huntington Library California, Grenville MSS, f LIV-8

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Jacqui Reiter has a PhD in 18th century British political history. She is currently working on her first novel, which deals with the second Earl of Chatham's troubled relationship with his brother William Pitt the Younger. She blogs at http://alwayswantedtobeareiter.wordpress.com/.

Spy? Why, sir - I am no spy...!

A quick guide to ‘information technology’ during the Peninsular War

by Jonathan Hopkins


Military intelligence is a contradiction in terms or so the old joke runs. Of course that was based on generals’ continued fallback option in later wars: throwing masses of lightly armed and unprotected men against emplaced infantry, machine guns and artillery in the forlorn hope they commanded higher numbers than the opposition and the basic tactic of 18th century warfare still worked.^.

It’s far different nowadays, in an age of satellite imaging and unmanned drones. But even though the Duke of Marlborough had famously written that ‘no war can be conducted successfully without early and good intelligence’ it wasn’t until 1803 that a Department of Military Intelligence was proposed in Britain, by Robert Brownrigg who had accompanied Frederick, Duke of York, as his military secretary, on the abortive expedition to Holland in 1799 and who realised the system of using local knowledge, in widespread operation at that time, was rubbish, basically.

But Brownrigg found recruiting operatives to the DMI was a major headache. Though governments employed spies, the army was above such ungentlemanly shenanigans. Intelligent young officers, attracted originally by a home posting, soon found sifting through mounds of often conflicting information far less attractive than they had first imagined, apart from the fact that many were ostracised by friends once their occupation became known.

A spy? Hrrrmph! Not the done thing, old boy.

Most transferred out of the fledgling department pretty sharpish once they realised this, so by the time Wellington landed on the Portuguese coast in August 1808 he was no better off than Marlborough had been on his march across Europe to the Danube a hundred years earlier.

The first problem the British had was a dearth of maps. Wellington originally relied on those of cartographer Tomas Lopez (‘tolerably accurate’ according to the University of Southampton). Their main failing was they showed few contour details, critical information when it came to moving large numbers of troops and quantities of equipment by road. Or dirt track, which is what Iberian thoroughfares usually were.

It was exactly this which prompted Sir John Moore, in the autumn of 1808, to gamble on splitting his force in three when he crossed Portugal into Spain. Locals convinced him that because of the state of the roads, the only way he could get his horse drawn artillery safely to Salamanca was on a circuitous journey through Estremadura, to the south of his preferred line of march

As it turned out, the guns could have managed Moore’s central route without too many problems, so since he did not know exactly where the French were he had risked any one of his under-strength divisions meeting the enemy unexpectedly through a lack of good intelligence.

Once Wellington returned to Iberia the following year he set about solving these problems. He saw immediately how useful intimate local knowledge was when Colonel John Waters, who had remained in Portugal after the British left, found boats which enabled Wellington’s troops to cross the Douro at Oporto un-noticed by Marshal Soult’s army and create a strongpoint from which they were able to run the French out of the city and thence from Portugal, at least for a time.

The Duke had no specialist cartographers, but he did have a few engineers who possessed similar skills. When not required on other projects these men were sent out, often with a cavalry escort, initially to map areas ahead of the British line of advance, but later to survey vast tracts of Portugal and Spain. As they moved about the country and became familiar to the local populace they would often receive information from the natives about French positions which they passed on to headquarters, and thus the more generally known role of ‘Exploring Officer’ (they were called ‘Observing Officers’ in many period despatches) was born.

Edward Charles Cocks was one such officer, though he was a captain in the 16th Light Dragoons rather than an engineer. As well as mapping the countryside Cocks watched for troop and supply movements which might indicate where the enemy were likely to strike next. His cavalry escort meant he was usually able to pass messages back quickly, without needing to either return to headquarters personally or risk Portuguese or Spanish couriers of unknown reliability.

As the war progressed, however, the network of known partisans grew. Messages could travel shorter distances between couriers so went faster. In addition, Wellington had made it known he paid cash for captured French dispatches, and it seems he did not much care how they were obtained. There are anecdotal tales of them being received still smeared with their original carrier’s blood. For their part the French pursued a policy of extermination against any individual or group they believed had helped the British, fueling the growth of Iberian guerrilla movements and ensuring even more information reached Wellington’s ears.

Exploring Officers wore full uniform for the simple reason that if they were captured they could claim they were combatants (which, technically, they were) and should be afforded all privileges their rank demanded. Spies caught in civilian clothes would likely be shot, though that did not stop many Exploring Officers going about in disguise. Captain Dashwood, an officer on Moore’s staff, dressed himself in a Spanish shepherd’s cloak and hat before walking brazenly into the occupied village of Rueda to check on the numbers of French troops in residence, before strolling casually back out again.

The most important piece of Exploring Officer’s equipment was usually a good horse. John Waters was captured at one point but bided his time until his escort was distracted. Then he galloped off, outrunning pursuers thanks to his mount’s superior fitness and stamina.

Being able to live by your wits helped, too. When Colquhoun Grant was captured in 1812 he somehow got sight of a letter from Marshal Marmont accusing him of spying and suggesting he be refused exchange for a captured French officer, normal practice at the time. Grant considered this allowed his to break his parole - his promise not to try to escape. Passing himself of as American, he made his way to Paris and mailed a number of intelligence reports to Wellington from the capital before escaping back to Britain by boat.

Eventually, semaphore stations were constructed in Portugal, helping messages travel even faster, though these were restricted to coastal areas. They never made it into the Spanish interior and it seems likely that was due to the terrain. But given the number of times the British advanced into and retreated from Spain between 1809 and 1813 it’s unclear how much use they would actually have been.

And I suppose the final piece of our IT jigsaw was George Scovell’s success in finally cracking the Grand Chiffre, France’s method of coding messages.

So there you have it. The Peninsular War was really won using wits, pen and ink, fast horses and friendly Spaniards. They would’ve loved Google Earth and SatNav.

Well, maybe not SatNav ;)

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Jonathan Hopkins is a Napoleonic Cavalry enthusiast.
His second novel Leopardkill - A Cavalry Tale is now available on Kindle with the paperback to follow on 1st October 2013.

What's the French Word For Ulcer, Guerrilla?

Birthed in blood and hounded by war from its very beginning, the French Republic died its first death in 1804 with the ascension of Le Petit Corporal, Napoleon Bonaparte, to the throne as the leader of the First French Empire. As his rise to emperor was strongly related to his military expertise, it’s no surprise that war would continue for France. Bolstered both by his military genius and, often, the incompetence of many (though certainly not all) of his foe nations, Napoleon’s army would steadily advance across Europe.

By 1807, the French Empire controlled the large swaths of Europe both directly or indirectly after victory in the War of the Fourth Coalition against a large number of allied nations. Unfortunately for the would-be ruler of Europe, he lost any effective control of the seas after a large-scale defeat at the hands of English Admiral Horatio Nelson’s fleet at the Battle of Trafalgar in 1805. In addition to halting any attempt at direct French invasion of England, British naval dominance doomed the Continental System, a French attempt to cut off the United Kingdom and their European allies from trade to failure.

Portuguese resistance to the Continental System provided an excuse for the French, with the planned aid of their then Spanish allies (many of the ships lost during the Battle of Trafalgar were Spanish), to take control of Portugal. The French, however, already distrustful of the Spanish government and with their own plans to control Spain more directly, marched troops into the country. Though these troops were sent to allegedly  aid in dealing with the Portuguese, the French soon started taking control of Spanish cities. The divided and dispirited government was further paralyzed by French-backed coups and other attempts to undermine the Spanish government. On May 5, 1808, Napoleon was in a position to directly install his brother, Joseph, as King of Spain.

A few days earlier, on May 2nd, Spanish citizens in Madrid rebelled against the occupying French. The brutal French response, both in Madrid, and in other cities, combined with discontent over the installation of King Joseph, ended any chance the French had of gaining smooth control of Spain. Resistance spread throughout Spain. By August, the British, inspired in particular by Spanish resistance, sent military aid to Spain and Portugal. This Peninsular War (named after the Iberian Peninsula containing Spain and Portugal) would rage until 1814.

Conventional warfare was a large component of the Peninsular War, but perhaps most striking in the context of the greater series of Napoleonic Wars, was it being marked by what is popular to now define as asymmetric warfare, or what is more commonly known as guerrilla warfare (note the word itself means “little war”). Although the guerrilla actions of the Peninsular War are certainly not the first example of guerrilla warfare in history, the sheer scale of the activity and its success against the preeminent conventional nation-state military power of the day provided an example for others in following centuries, and, of course, the Spanish word came into English to describe the style of warfare.

These guerrillas eschewed field battles. Instead they concentrated on hit-and-run and surprise attacks. They could kill the enemy or raid for supplies then fall back into mountainous terrain where the French regulars would not only have difficulty following but also difficulty fighting them with conventional tactics.

Although the French committed more than a few atrocities during their time in Portugal and Spain, it should be noted that the Spanish guerrillas didn’t confine their efforts to military targets. People deemed too pro-French would often pay with their lives. As one might expect, the guerrilla forces were not particularly organized and did not always operate under tight central authority or control. In addition, as is also common throughout the history of warfare, many men of ill repute viewed guerrilla warfare as an opportunity to satisfy their criminal or violent urges under the false flag of patriotism. If a group of guerrillas came to a village and “liberated” excess supplies or hurt someone, it wasn’t as if innocent civilians could just file a grievance with the government. With the French taking their own brutal invaders’ liberties with the countryside and also often doubling-down on their efforts due to irregular activity, it was not a pleasant time to be a civilian.

Though guerrilla warfare was a major contribution to the eventual victory over the French in the Peninsular War, it was not, in of itself a sufficient factor. Definitive conventional victories were still required. That being said, the guerrillas made life hell for the French regular forces. Reprisal and control attempts only further enflamed the populace. The irregular forces ambushed forces, disrupted supply lines, assassinated officers, seized messengers and otherwise thoroughly undermined the French forces. Beside the direct causalities inflicted, guerrilla activities prevented large chunks of French forces from being employed at full strength in either Spain or Portugal. Instead, many French troops had to be distributed to try and respond to these constant irregular attacks. Thus, the guerrilla efforts acted as an effective force multiplier for the anti-French Allies and also played a key role in delaying the French invasion timetable. Among other things, this also allowed the British time to bring sufficient resources into the war effort.

While Napoleon had made statements that the French would be able to conquer Spain and Portugal with only a minor expenditure in troops and effort, as the Peninsular War dragged out, the French emperor recognized the war instead as his “Spanish ulcer”.