Appendix 1: The Archaeology

Employ the word ‘archaeology’ and a vision is instantly conjured up of Neolithic hand axes, Bronze-Age swords and Roman coins. For this the reason is very simple: in brief, until comparatively recently archaeology was a discipline that focused on the ancient world, the most that could be expected of it otherwise being the occasional foray into the mediaeval period. In Spain in particular, meanwhile, the emergence of archaeology as a modern scientific discipline has arguably been slower than elsewhere: thus, such departments of archaeology as exist are in many instances comparatively recent in their foundation. Put these factors together and add in the fact that one of the legacies of the Franco era was a rooted aversion among the academic community to all things military, and the result is that the archaeology of the Peninsular War is a subject that is very much in its infancy, and this at a time when conflict archaeology in general, and the conflict archaeology of the Napoleonic Wars in particular, have been making steady progress, as witness the discovery and systematic investigation of a mass grave in the Lithuanian city of Vilnius that proved to contain the remains of 2,000 French soldiers who had succumbed to typhus in the wake of the Retreat from Moscow.1 Still worse, the task of achieving similar progress in Spain is one whose path is rendered extremely problematic by a variety of different issues. In the first place, it is only in recent years – the key date is 1985, that year seeing the passage of the crucial Ley de Patrimonio – that the Spanish authorities have woken up to the need to protect sites of historical importance, whilst, if only through ignorance of the detail of the events of 1808–14, even then the limits of what was deemed to be important was in practice inclined to be rather narrowly defined: crudely speaking, whereas Celtiberian hill forts, Roman amphitheatres and Moorish castles were all self-evidently places of historical importance, to the uninitiated a field was but a field even though it might have been the site of some crucial combat, or, for that matter, somewhere where regiment after regiment of soldiers, British, French, Spanish and Portuguese, had bivouacked for the night. In consequence, in the course of the past 20 years, motorways have been driven across at least five of the war’s major battlefields – Talavera, Albuera, Sagunto, Salamanca and Vitoria – seemingly without any attempt at archaeological inves- tigation of any sort, while much of the field of Vitoria, including the site of much of the fiercest fighting, now lies buried under a singularly unattractive industrial estate. Yet, better informed on account of a personal interest in a subject deemed by the vast majority of their compatriots to be so arcane as to be beyond their comprehension, other Spaniards, alas, were ahead of the game, and thus it is that few sites associated with the struggle have been free from the depredations of dozens of freelance collectors of antiquities and amateur historians armed with metal detectors: indeed, it is certain that most of the main battlefields and other areas of interest have over the past 30 years been thoroughly pillaged.2 From all this it follows, first, that only in a very few cases have serious stud- ies been undertaken of particular sites, and, second, that such work as has been carried out has often been less rewarding than might have been expected. That

136 Appendix 1: The Archaeology 137 said, those excavations that have taken place have still yielded much informa- tion of interest. Particularly apposite here, perhaps, is a study that was conducted in respect of the Moorish castle that dominated the city of Jaén. Thus, although much evidence, including, lamentably, the until then very visible remains of the many buildings that were constructed to house the successive garrisons who were stationed in the castle between 1808 and 1814, was lost in the course of the transformation of part of the site into one of Spain’s famous parador hotels in the course of the 1960s, a team from the University of Jaén was able both to chart the series of improvements which, first, the Spaniards and then the French effected in respect of the defences, and, second, to uncover the foundations of various buildings, including a structure that housed a number of officers, the lat- ter being identified by reference to the detailed plans of the site drawn up in the course of the French occupation.3 Being more prone to disappearing from the landscape because of erosion or the spread of vegetation, field fortifications are still more vulnerable than castles and other such structures – one thinks here of such detached works as the fort of San Cristóbal at Badajoz or the spectacular fort of Santa Engracia at Pancorbo – but only in a few cases have steps been taken to identify and conserve the physical remains.4 On the Isla de León, for example, an alert member of staff of the local museum quite by chance spotted traces of a work known as the Lacy Redoubt in the wake of a high tide that washed away the topmost layer of sand from a beach, whilst the remains of another battery have been identified by the government of the city of San Fernando as a site that should be protected and, if possible, subjected to investigation, also very inter- esting being the efforts of local enthusiasts to chart what remains of a chain of batteries and other fortified posts that guarded the southern entrance to the Río de Sancti Petri.5 Yet even where sites have been identified, very few have been made the subject of excavations, let alone restored to some semblance of their original condition – an exception in the latter case is constituted by various works belonging to the Lines of Torres Vedras, while at least one ‘dig’ has taken place on the site of the citadel constructed by the French to overawe Madrid in what is today the Parque del Retiro6 – archaeological investigations having for the most part only been initiated as a prelude to or consequence of interventions in the built environment, a good example here concerning the case of Zaragoza. Thus, internal alterations in the castle of the Aljafería in 1986 led to the discovery of a mass grave containing the remains of some 200 men, women and children, all of them victims either of the sieges of 1808–1809 or the privations of the years that followed, who had been interred beneath the floor of the castle’s chapel, other items that were recovered including copious quantities of coins, buttons, badges and buckles, and even the occasional fragment of headgear and uniform.7 As for sites other than those concerning the proverbial ‘sharp end of war’, to the authors’ best knowledge the only one that has ever been looked at is the intern- ment camp that was established on the island of Cabrera to house the 20,000 French prisoners taken by the Spaniards at the battle of Bailén, the investigations that were carried out revealing the remains of a number of stone huts as well as such items as spoons, plates, drinking vessels and cooking utensils.8 The picture, then, is very patchy: interest in the subject is growing, while the local authorities have become rather more aware of their responsibilities towards the physical remains left behind by the Peninsular War, but only in relatively few cases have these last been systematically investigated, while from time to time 138 Appendix 1: The Archaeology cases come to light that amount to little more than vandalism, as, for example, in Astorga where a recent visit to the city led to the discovery that the northern walls of the cathedral had just been restored so as to obliterate all trace of the sustained pounding that they received at the hands of French artillery in the course of the siege of 1810. It is then pleasant to report that, setting aside the important excavation that, as already noted, took place following the discovery of a mass grave that had served the various hospitals set up by the French in the period 1808–1812, the castle of Burgos has been the subject of not one ‘dig’ but three. Of these the first was initiated in 1993 following the decision of the city authorities to reconstruct the castle – at that point still a wasteland of rubble and brambles – marked only by a stretch of wall crowned by few stubby drum towers that had been erected in the Franquist era in an attempt to delineate the site – and embellish the area with a car park, play area and other tourist facilities, the area chosen for this second part of the project roughly corresponding with the place d’armes enclosed by the innermost tier of ramparts erected by the French, or, to put it another way, the site of the basilica of Santa María la Blanca. Given these objectives, it was logical that operations should have fallen into two main parts, namely the investigation of the remains of the castle and the investigation of the place d’armes. Beginning with the former, clearing the ground of surface rubble and the dense scrub that covered large parts of it soon uncov- ered the outline of many of the buildings constructed to house the garrison in the Isabelline era, together with many traces of the mediaeval castle, and, more particularly, the great fire of 1736 (this last in the form of a layer of ash and other carbonised deposits buried at a depth of 30–60 centimetres from the sur- face: given the fact that such layers were discovered in various parts of the site, it may be that at least some of them may relate to the explosion of 1812, the fire having affected the royal palace only). Armed with this data, it was possible to arrive at at least an approximation of the line of the perimeter wall, together with the ditch that protected part of its length, and this in turn enabled the con- struction after the excavations had been brought to a close of the structures that can be seen today. On the other hand the artefacts discovered in the course of the work proved to be limited to various fragments of glass, pottery and ceramic tile of no particular interest to students of the Napoleonic era. In so far as this last group is concerned, then, we must therefore turn to the excavation of Santa María la Blanca and the place d’armes within which it was contained. As might be expected, this second phase of the work proved to be more fruitful in terms of remains of the built environment. Thus, the area not having been built on in the period after the Peninsular War in the same fashion as the castle, the foun- dations of the basilica were found to be reasonably intact, and this allowed the confirmation, subject to some modification, of such descriptions that we have of the building. More importantly, however, the excavations also produced more in the way of artefacts, whilst the items discovered included 26 buttons belonging to no fewer than six different infantry regiments, including several that had not been present at the siege, as well as numerous cannon balls and shell fragments, these remains being testimony first to the sheer number of French troops that at one time or another passed though Burgos and, second, to the intensity of the fire to which the sector was subjected.9 If the archaeological interventions of 1993–1995 had proved of limited inter- est in respect of the Napoleonic period, at the very least they established the Appendix 1: The Archaeology 139 possibility that the French fortress was a subject worthy of intervention. In 2008, meanwhile, this impression was confirmed when it was decided that the Calle de las Murallas – the modern road running along the line of the ditch that had once protected the mediaeval walls that girded the Cerro de la Blanca (in modern parlance, the Cerro del Castillo) – should be provided with a pavement. The site being one of historical interest, the city council ordered that it should be for- mally investigated before the engineering work was given the go-ahead, and the results proved extremely positive. Thus, as noted above (see Chapter 5, footnote 48), buried in the lee of the old wall there appeared the partial skeletons of six victims of the siege, of whom two were definitely British soldiers and another a Frenchman (assuming, that is, that the buttons found in their graves can be taken as a guide to their identity), the regiments involved being, first, the 58th Foot, second, the 83rd Foot, and third, the French 65th Line. Judging from the complete absence of any vestiges of anything other than the most basic personal clothing – i.e. coatees, waistcoats or fatigue jackets, trousers – all the bodies had been stripped of their weapons, accoutrements, footwear and personal posses- sions before being buried (other than a varying number of buttons, discounting a handful of mediaeval coins, the only other items discovered were various pro- jectiles and shell fragments, a spoon, a weight from a plumb-line made of bone, the head of a small spade and a few musket flints, but the fact that the area was the scene of fierce fighting for many days means that these objects cannot be associated with any certainty with the remains with which they were found). Presupposing, as this stripping of the bodies does, a degree of leisure unlikely to be found in the midst of battle, the suspicion must be that the men concerned had all been buried at times when there was no fighting, though whether this meant during one of the truces that were periodically called to allow the dead to be interred and the wounded evacuated or at some point after the siege had come to an end is impossible to tell. Having been removed from their resting places – in each case, individual graves – the remains were transferred to the city museum for storage and as far as is known remain there to this day, a recent bid by an American scholar to have them examined by the Smithsonian Institution having failed for want of finance. Further investigation would therefore be most welcome, but at the present time all that can be said is that all six of the bodies were those of adult males, of whom one was aged between 15 and 23, a second between 22 and 24, a third between 16 and 18 and a fourth between 21 and 46 (the skeletons of the other two were so partial as to make an estimation of their age impossible). Meanwhile, of the three whose skulls were recovered, two revealed fatal wounds to the cranium, the one the result of a shot through the left temple and the other what may have been a glancing blow from a shell frag- ment (wounds to the head, of course, are the most likely form of injury amongst troops killed manning trenches). Two of the individuals whose ages have been identified, it will be noted, may have been minors at the time of their death, but this is no mystery: in the British army enlistment was permitted from the age of 16, while in both the British and French service the sons of serving soldiers often joined the ranks as drummer boys at an even earlier age.10 The human remains and associated artefacts discovered at the foot of the medi- aeval wall are beyond doubt the most dramatic fruits of the excavations resulting from the infrastructural work ordered for the Calle de las Murallas. However, these were also of interest in respect of what they revealed in respect of both 140 Appendix 1: The Archaeology the defences and the physical impact which the siege had upon them. Unfortu- nately, the positioning of the various trenches cut by the archaeologists was such that no trace was found of any ditch – a feature that might have been expected to run along the line of the walls – but what was established beyond any doubt was the exact position and width of the two breaches that were blown in them by Wellington’s army, whilst also revealed was an embankment that may have formed part of one of the attackers’ approach trenches and a cavity that was deemed by the archaeologists to represent the beginnings of a mine. However, whilst this last is situated halfway up the main breach, this being a logical posi- tion from which to begin a tunnel designed to undermine the fortress’ second line, there is no documentary record of such an approach being attempted from this spot, and it is difficult not to conclude that the cavity represents something else and may not even be connected with the events of the siege.11 As with the earlier intervention carried out in the course of the work that was undertaken to reconstruct the castle and remodel its immediate surroundings, the results of this second intervention were clearly encouraging in that they showed beyond doubt that the French fortress (as opposed to just that of the castle) was likely to contain many artefacts relating both to the siege and the wider Peninsu- lar War. Indeed, just to prove the point, according to report, human remains had been uncovered on the southern slopes of the Cerro de la Blanca in the course of the construction of the stairs that provide direct access from the castle to the centre of the city. Until this point, however, no investigation had been under- taken of the site as a whole, whilst such work that had been carried out had always been undertaken in the context of projects that had nothing to do with the Napoleonic period: judging from anecdotal evidence, indeed, the discovery of human remains and artefacts relating to the events of 1812 had come as some- thing of a surprise to the team concerned. It was not, then, until the site was first visited by the current authors that an effort was made to rectify this situation. The story of this project begins with a chance visit to the site in the autumn of 2008, which suggested the existence of substantial physical remains of a sort that were much more extensive than anything suggested by such guides to the battle- fields of the Peninsular War as were available, whilst at the same time providing graphic evidence of, at the very least, a lack of recognition of the potential impor- tance of the site from the point of view of heritage tourism. Already engaged, as the authors were, in a search for a Peninsular War site which might possess a significant archaeological horizon, they therefore decided to visit Burgos, and in the course of a preliminary feasibility trip, stumbled over an obvious and yet little appreciated conundrum about the site: whilst this last had described and mapped in some detail by J.T. Jones, nobody had previously given time to investigating how that officer might have composed his map. Over the next three years (2010 to 2012) the site – primarily the hornwork on the Cerro de San Miguel and the area on the western side of the main fortifications – were subjected to a topo- graphic survey. Revealing, as it did, serious discrepancies between what it found and what Jones had shown in his maps, this survey generated a search for a solu- tion whose results are embedded in the text of the current volume. That being the case, there is no need to reiterate them here: suffice it to say that an archae- ological approach to a seemingly well-documented and described siege such as Burgos has revealed questions, issues and solutions which transcend the recy- cling of the documentary and narrative accounts of the siege. At the same time Appendix 1: The Archaeology 141 too, meanwhile, the potential of the site was confirmed in other respects: the occasional musket ball; a fragment of shell casing discovered in the ditch of the hornwork that provided tangible evidence of the defenders’ use of howitzers to interdict obvious lines of communication in the rear of the attackers; traces of the trenches dug by Wellington’s troops following their penetration of the first line of defence; and finally, and very sadly, human bones that had been disin- terred and cast aside during the erection of a mobile phone mast on the summit of the Cerro de San Miguel, again without the slightest attempt at archaeological intervention.12 The repeated visits to the site carried out by the University of Liverpool team did not quite mark the end of the archaeological investigation of the site, how- ever. On the contrary, in the summer of 2010 independent intervention on the part of the semi-official Foro para el Estudio de la Historia Militar de España obtained finance for an attempt to locate the foundations of the church of San Román (as we have seen, this was blown up on the last day of the siege, whilst its remains were later cleared away and used to repair buildings in other parts of the city). It is understood that this work was eventually undertaken, but at the time of writing the results have yet to be published, and it is therefore impossible to say exactly what this latest project has contributed to our understanding of the site. However, according to reportage that has already appeared in the public domain, it is understood that, whilst GPS surveys have revealed the presence of stonework that may well belong to the church, the possibility cannot be ruled out that they represent other structures that either coexisted with San Román or were erected on its site thereafter.13 To conclude, then, the potential of archaeology as a tool for the investigation of both particular military events – the siege of the citadel by Wellington’s forces in September–October 1812 – and longer-term military experiences – the French occupation of 1808–1813 – has been amply proven through the case of Burgos. Whether it has been through the more accurate charting of the physical remains, the discovery of a wide range of artefacts or the investigation of the contents of a variety of graves, fresh details have been revealed about siege and occupation alike, and a number of episodes contained in the written accounts afforded a degree of corroboration that would otherwise have been lacking. Indeed, even the weather that caused the besieging forces such misery has been tested out to great effect: as the authors can now testify, at the time of year at which Wellington fell upon the city Burgos can be at least as cold and wet as anything that is reported in the memoir literature! That there is more work that could be done there is no doubt, whilst one might hope, too, that in future work might begin on the provision of adequate signage and other aids for casual visitors to the site; but much has been achieved and several years of work carried through to a successful conclusion. Appendix 2: The Cartography

Cartography is not a subject that is wont to engage the attention of that many historians. This, however, is unfortunate: as should be self-evident, maps are an integral part of the representation of the past, while they are frequently indis- pensable to its understanding. This being particularly the case with military history, the matter cannot but become an issue of some importance in this study, and all the more so as it is above all through maps of the site that most histo- rians have visualised the layout of the fortress of Burgos: indeed, one can go so far as to argue that the cartography forms a part of the archaeology. In the case of British historians, in particular, as already noted, the chief source of inspira- tion in this respect has probably been the plan that accompanied Jones’ Journal when it appeared in 1814 (Figures A2.1 and A2.2). As we have seen, this has con- tinued to appear in modified form in print down to the present day. Yet what has not received the attention it requires is how Jones managed to create such a map under the conditions of a siege during which he was wounded and subse- quently evacuated. To this, however, the answer is quite simple: whilst the natural assumption is that the map was Jones’ work, in reality there is no need for this to have been the case at all. On the contrary, there are two alternative explanations, of which the first is that the map is based on one drawn up at the time of the siege at Wellington’s headquarters and completed, at least, by hands other than those of John Jones (it is, of course, entirely possible that Jones was involved in such a project until the point that he was shot down by the French), and the second is that it was derived from a pre-existing French original that was adapted for the purposes of the besiegers. Both these suggestions have their merits, but, whatever the answer, one thing is clear, this being that the exposition of the site that appeared in the Journal contained many discrepancies that have never been fully explored. Before saying anything else about the cartography, it is obviously necessary that we should familiarise ourselves with the legacy left us by Jones in this respect. In so far as this is concerned, what we have are two separate documents, namely a map of the castle and its immediate environs and a diagram showing three cross-sections of the defences (irritatingly, this was not printed as a separate figure but rather as a part of a collage of other images: as can be seen from the reproduction included in this work, this does not make for clarity). Taking the former as our starting point, this consists of a plan of the site drawn at a scale of two inches to 100 yards depicting the main features of the defences, along with the course of the British trenches and the shifting positions of their var- ious batteries, the various siege works being marked by a series of letters that link them with various points in the text (as the letters vary from edition to edition of the Journal, it is possible to use this detail as a means of identifying the one from which any given map is taken). Although no cardinal points are indicated, the orientation of the map is inverted (i.e. with north to the bottom) whilst the topography is indicated by shading rather than contours. Finally, the plan is crossed by three dotted lines which represent the lines followed by the

142 Appendix 2: The Cartography 143

Figure A2.1 ‘Attack of the castle of Burgos between the 19th of September and the 21st October 1812’ (i.e. the ‘Jones map’); reproduction courtesy of the Sydney Jones Library, University of Liverpool three cross-sections mentioned above. As for the cross-sections, these run from the church of San Román to the ravelin of the hornwork, from the second breach to the eastern face of the castle via the basilica of La Blanca, and finally from north to south through the self-same basilica. Thus far, thus helpful: the cross-sections, indeed, constitute a novel feature, and one that is particularly useful in terms of visualising the site. From where, however, was the map in the Journal derived? In so far as this is concerned – something, be it said, that has never yet been investigated – there are, as we have seen, two basic possibilities, in brief either that it was based on a document gener- ated in Wellington’s headquarters (in which Jones may initially have had a hand himself) or that it was adapted from a map taken from the French. Of these two explanations both seem possible, but strong support is afforded to the former by the fact that one of the two British depictions of the site that have been iden- tified as being contemporaneous with the siege ties in with it extremely closely. 144 Appendix 2: The Cartography

Figure A2.2 Profiles drawn up by J.T. Jones to illustrate the ‘Jones map’; repro- duction courtesy of the Sydney Jones Library, University of Liverpool

Included in the collection of the papers of James Stanhope that was published by Gareth Glover in 2010, the document concerned is a sketch map of the defences and the main British siege works that its progenitor claimed had been hastily copied in the course of the siege from a more detailed version in the possession of Wellington’s secretary, Lord Fitzroy Somerset (exactly when this was is not made clear, but it must have been at some point in the period after 11 October, this last being the date when Stanhope arrived at Wellington’s headquarters at Villatoro). To be sure, not least because it has no scale, the result can scarcely be regarded as an accurate representation – indeed, Stanhope admits that, while it showed ‘what a strong place [the castle] is for an irregular work’, he had ‘never time or opportunity to copy a good plan’, but rather just ‘scratched one off’.1 Yet this is by the by, what matters being rather the sketch’s extraordinary simi- larity with Jones’ map, the chief point here being that it, too, is inverted, from which it follows that it is at least possible that Jones did indeed work from some headquarters-generated ‘master map’.2 There are, however, certain problems with the idea that Jones drew up his map on the basis of a document generated at Wellington’s headquarters. That this organisation contained numerous officers who were excellent draughtsmen cannot be doubted, whilst it is also not a matter of debate that they produced a great many maps in the course of the Peninsular War: it was, indeed, their work that formed the basis of the sumptuous atlas of the conflict published by Wyld in 1840. Indeed, two such officers – Lieutenant Thomas Mitchell of the 95th Regiment and a Major Hutchins – are known to have been engaged in sketch- ing the terrain around Burgos in the course of the siege.3 Yet in itself the fact that the capacity existed to produce an accurate map of the site does not mean that the site was actually mapped. Given the circumstances of the siege, it is very difficult to see how the castle could have been surveyed accurately whilst the fighting was actually going on, while to argue that the task was completed after the definitive liberation of Burgos in 1813 raises the question whether there Appendix 2: The Cartography 145 would have been sufficient time to incorporate the result into a work published in London in 1814. At no time, meanwhile, does Jones make any reference to the elaboration of any maps in his various writings, and it is, indeed, difficult to see how the handful of Royal Engineer officers present with Wellington’s forces could have had the time to engage with this task (it might also be pointed out here that one of the officers concerned who had most experience of mapping, Major Pierrepoint, was, as we have seen, killed in action at the very onset of the siege). There remains, of course, the issue of the similarity of the Stanhope map, but this may literally just be a matter of coincidence, while it is in fact under- standable that officers who were housed in Villatoro should have visualised the siege on a north-to-south axis and therefore orientated their maps accordingly. This brings us, then, to the other explanation for Jones’ map, this essentially being that it is based on a map that was taken from the French before the siege, presumably following the surrender of the citadel that the invaders had con- structed to overawe Madrid. That such a map existed is entirely possible: indeed, so extensive was the work on the defences that was begun in 1808 that it cannot but have occasioned the preparation of detailed plans of some sort. The earliest datable ‘engineer’ map of the citadel which includes those elements added to it after Napoleon’s order that it should be refortified is one curated in the Archivo General Militar in Segovia entitled Plan du Fort de Burgos et Projet de Rectification (ref. SG.Ar.E-T.6-C.1-122(2)). Drawn in different colours – the fortifications appear in yellow, red or black (see below) – at a scale of c.1:1000 and equipped with a legend which describes a number of features in and about the castle, according to the catalogue this was prepared by Captain Pehorg of the French Corps du Génie in 1811. As to what it shows, what we have are the fortifications and other structures as they existed at the time of the siege – these are marked in red or black – together with a series of modifications that the French engineers had decided were necessary to perfect the defences, these last being marked in yellow (as these would have greatly strengthened the French second line, Wellington could consider himself lucky that the project was never completed). Accompa- nying the plan, meanwhile, is a page of profiles criss-crossing the citadel entitled Profils passant pour le point la plus élevé de la montagne de San Miguel, these being exactly the same as those depicted on the Jones map. Given that is it impossible that these cross-sections could be the product of coincidence, it is clear that Jones must at the very least have seen the French plans. That said, it is just possible that these reached him at some point in 1813 following, say, the battle of Vitoria, and that they were not in the hands of Wellington at the time of the siege. Thus, as witness Figure A2.3, contained in the same Segovia collection is a copy of the French Plan du Fort de Burgos that is identical in almost every detail, but for the fact that the legend is in Spanish (ref. SG.Ar.E-T.6-C.1-1221; the Spanish title is Plan del Fuerte de Burgos y proyecto de rectificación). Drawn up by a draughtsman employed by the Spanish general staff named José Gil, this is annotated as having been completed in Cádiz on 26 July 1811, and must have been based on a version of the document that we can pre- sume to have been captured by one of the many irregular commanders operating in the vicinity of Burgos and then sent to the temporary Spanish capital. How, though, did Wellington come to acquire this document, if, indeed, he did so at all? Was, perhaps, a copy sent to him by the Spanish general staff or his brother, the British ambassador, Henry Wellesley? We simply do not know, but in the end 146

Figure A2.3 Plan del fuerte de Burgos y proyecto de rectificación, 1811; reproduction courtesy of Instituto de Historia y Cultura Militar (Madrid) Appendix 2: The Cartography 147 this is not an issue that should concern us: given the fact that there is every rea- son to believe that a copy of the Plan du Fort de Burgos would have been among the effects captured from the French in the Retiro following the Allied entry into Madrid, there was no need for the British commander to have seen it at all. By one means or another, then, Wellington may be assumed to have acquired a complete plan of the defences of Burgos prior to his march on Valladolid, and from this it follows that all Jones had to do when he came to prepare the maps for the Journal was to mark in the breaches and the British trenches. Given that this must have been done after the siege, it follows that their siting could only have been approximate, this being something that is somewhat worrying in view of the fact that literally all the maps that have appeared of the siege of Burgos have taken Jones’ depiction of the attackers’ works as gospel. That said, however, there is, in fact, a much greater problem. Thus, whether French original or Spanish copy, the plan of the fortifications on which the British based their operations depicts either what had been completed by September 1812, or, more likely, what had been planned but not yet finished. This, however, produced a major anomaly in the manner in which at least one part of the defences is shown. In brief, the map in the Journal gives the hornwork a profile that is quite irregular in that its eastern bastion projects much further forward than its western one, so that the whole front of the work is shown as having in effect been constructed on a slant. Yet this simply bears no relation to the reality, which is to all intents and purposes symmetrical, a further problem being that the side walls or ‘branches’ of the work are shown as extending much further south than was actually the case. Explaining this difference is easy enough: as we have seen in Chapter 3, the French were forced by time constraints to give the hornwork a greatly simplified profile and in the first instance, at least, greatly to reduce the area that it occupied, but their mapping did not reflect this, this being something that Jones never picked up on.4 Jones’ map, then, is somewhat problematic, and it is therefore just as well that the history of the mapping does not end with his 1814 book. We come here to the work of Jacques Belmas. As we have seen, this was essentially a French parallel to the work of Jones in that it contained an account of all the sieges in which Napoleon’s forces took part in the Peninsular, whilst, like Jones, it was handsomely illustrated with numerous maps and plans. With respect to Burgos, the source made use of here was A. Barrière’s Plan du chateau de Burgos relatif a la défense faite par les français en 1812 (Figure A2.4). Exactly when this was drawn up is not quite clear, but it appears to have been based on a combination of the French plan of 1811 and Jones’ representation of the British trenches, and may have taken its basic outline from the same plan as that seen by Sir Howard Douglas (see footnote 2). Setting aside minor differences – above all, the manner in which the map is annotated – the major change is that we have a great improvement in the representation of the hornwork, in that the latter is now symmetrical and shown with its branches seemingly but half-built and its rear wall entirely absent. Less significant but just as useful, meanwhile, is the fact that the city of Burgos is now shown in great detail, the result being that for the first time we have a visual reminder that the siege of 1812 was very much an urban tragedy. Though Jones’ map continued to retain its influence – variants of it appeared both in Napier’s History of the War in the Peninsula and the South of France and 148 Appendix 2: The Cartography

Figure A2.4 Plan du chateau de Burgos relatif a la défense faite par les français en 1812 (i.e. the ‘Barrière map’); reproduction courtesy of Instituto de Historia y Cultura Militar (Madrid)

James Wyld’s Maps and Plans showing the Principal Movements, Battles and Sieges in which the British Army was engaged the War from 1808 to 1814 in the Spanish Penin- sula and the South of France (London, 1840), as well as, much later, Oman’s History of the Peninsular War and, finally, Ian Fletcher’s Fortresses of the Peninsular War (Figures A2.5, A2.6, A2.7 and A2.8) – it was not long before this new representa- tion was passing into the British historiography. In 1848, then, the Barrière map was published in English in slightly reworked form in the atlas that accompanied Alison’s History of Europe from the Commencement of the French Revolution to the Restoration of the Bourbons (London, 1833–1843), while in 1899 it appeared again in W.H. Fitchett’s How England saved Europe: The Story of the Great War, 1793– 1815.5 Meanwhile, as witness Figure A2.9, a fuller development of the Barrière plan is evident in the map of Burgos that accompanies Sir John Fortescue’s his- tory of the British army (a work that despite its title is essentially a narrative of battles and campaigns). Apart from the fact that it is printed in colour – some- thing that makes it by far the most attractive of the ‘classic’ representations of the siege – what makes Fortescue’s version different to those that preceded is that it is augmented by the inclusion of contour lines (usually at every 15 feet), the implication being that Fortescue must have placed the Barrière version on to a more modern Spanish map of the town and its immediate environs. In every way, then, it is an impressive document, and it is therefore hardly surprising to find that it forms the basis for the representations of the siege that appeared in the two atlases of the Peninsular War published to mark the bicentenary of that conflict.6 149

Figure A2.5 The ‘Jones map’ as repackaged by William Napier, 1834; reproduc- tion courtesy of the Sydney Jones Library, University of Liverpool 150 Appendix 2: The Cartography

Figure A2.6 The ‘Jones map’ as repackaged by John Wyld, 1840; reproduction courtesy of Richard Tennant

To sum up, then, we have two different traditions of representing the siege of the castle of Burgos, of which the one stems from the work of John Jones and the other from that of Jacques Belmas. For no better reason, one suspects, than the fact that it is far more attractive, it is the latter treatment that has become dominant in the historiography. As has already been implied, however, it is also the more accurate. That this is the case has been established beyond question by Appendix 2: The Cartography 151

Figure A2.7 The ‘Jones map’ as repackaged by Charles Oman, 1922; author’s collection the current study, by means of the exploration and survey of the fortifications carried out in successive expeditions in the summers of 2009, 2010 and 2011 using a combination of a theodolite-stadia survey (T-S), hand-held ground posi- tioning systems (GPS) and satellite images readily available via Google Earth, the need for this programme of work having been suggested to the authors by the 152 Appendix 2: The Cartography

Figure A2.8 The ‘Jones map’ as repackaged by Ian Fletcher, 2003; reproduction courtesy of Osprey Books

very obvious differences between the maps which they had consulted (at this point it was not clear how these differences had emerged, let alone that there were two clear traditions). Given that this was the area where the greatest dis- crepancies were visible, most of the time was spent surveying the hornwork with its ravelin, but some work was also done on various sectors of the exte- rior defences of the main site that were unencumbered with undergrowth and had not been subjected to much alteration. The results of the surveys were then related back to the published maps and this in turn led the reconciliation of a number of the problems that had been identified in the early stages of the project. As a starting point, one might take the Google satellite image. Here the key element is the hornwork on San Miguel. It is clear that in its ground plan the photography of the hornwork and ravelin is more akin to that shown on the Barrière plan than it is to that shown on Jones. This impression was confirmed once the dimensions of the site had been corroborated by the T-S survey and the GPS exercise. The terrestrial survey measured the hornwork’s branches and the maximum distances between its bastions as well as the dis- tance from the re-entrant point at the mid-point of the north face of the hornwork to the apex of the ravelin and finally the maximum width of the base of the ravelin. This data was then compared with that contained in the Rectification, Jones and Barrière plans, the results being revealed by the following table. Appendix 2: The Cartography 153

Comparison of dimensions in metres for the hornwork on San Miguel

Location Google Survey Rectification Jones Barrière

Depth of hornwork c.160 ∗∗∗∗ c.200 ∗∗∗∗ 117 Width of hornwork c.260 260.43 c.100 79.2 220+ Depth of ravelin c.160 153.74 c.50 25.2 183 Base of ravelin c.120 115.52 c.50 37.8 83m

The conclusions to be drawn from this table are striking. In general it can be said that the Barrière and survey data correlate well both with one another and with the Google image in terms of shape, size and proportions. The Jones map,

Figure A2.9 The ‘Barrière map’ as repackaged by John Fortescue, 1912; reproduc- tion courtesy of the Napoleon Series 154 Appendix 2: The Cartography

Figure A2.10 The ‘Barrière map’ as repackaged by Nick Lipscombe, 2010; repro- ductioncourtesyofOspreyBooks

by contrast, is incorrectly shaped and gives dimensions that are far too small, although this last problem is explained by the fact that the scale on Jones’ map is incorrect (it would appear that, in an error which has previously gone unnoticed but which has been repeated over and over again in the subsequent 200years of recycling the map, his illustrator mixed up his yards and feet). In short, it is quite clear that the Jones map was by far the more unreliable of the two, whilst this conclusion was further substantiated by the discovery that a number of the features which it showed bore little relation to the actual site – that they were, indeed, all but incomprehensible (a good example here is the trench that was dug within the outer bailey to provide a firing position from which to harass attempts to repair the third breach: in the Jones map, the zigzag communication trench by which the troops sent to fire on the enemy gained access to their positions is clearly shown as running along the ditch at the foot of the outer wall, whereas it was actually found to have run along the terre plein just on the French side of the parapet). As to why so many errors crept in, the likeliest explanation is that Jones got access to a version of the Rectification plan and accepted it as the state of the Burgos defences at the moment the siege commenced, when in reality it was a planner’s map that showed work that had yet to be undertaken or had been carried out in a different form, as was, in fact, clearly the case with the hornwork; and, further, that he could not but have added at least some of the detail concerning the British trenches after he was shot and possibly even after Appendix 2: The Cartography 155 he was evacuated to the rear altogether (taking the case of the trench mentioned above as an example, this was not excavated until the second or even third week of October and yet Jones was hit only four days into that month). To conclude, then, this study of the cartography has suggested, first, that the mapping of the castle of Burgos and the siege of 1812 has been derived almost entirely from the work of French engineer officers, and, second, that there are real grounds for challenging the work of the leading British authority on the siege, John Jones. That said, there are yet further questions to be asked of the maps. Above all, it is quite clear that, even in the fresh tradition of mapping established by Belmas, the positioning of the British siege works rests entirely on Jones. That being the case, it would be highly desirable to use modern technol- ogy to investigate the lines of the trenches on the ground, and all the more so as such a programme might also reveal details of the site that are not shown on any map (a point to keep in mind here is that such French accounts as we have of the siege stress that the defences were continually being worked upon during the siege, the aim being either to effect running repairs with respect to the dam- age inflicted by bombardment or mining or to countermeasures to forthcoming moves on the part of the Anglo-Portuguese). Meanwhile, in historical terms, one point has become crystal clear: in brief, Wellington had access to a detailed map of the fortress of Burgos from virtually the moment that he liberated Madrid on 12 August 1812, if not, indeed, well before that. This document, it has to be admitted, was slightly misleading, but, if so, it was not in a direction that should have led to over-confidence: if anything, the map the British commander saw gave an impression of the defences that was slightly exaggerated. Once again, then, one comes back to the fundamental question of what Wellington thought he was about when he marched on Burgos with so inadequate a siege train: if anything was lacking in his planning, it was certainly not intelligence in respect of his eventual target. Appendix 3: The Fortress of Burgos Today

The site and its context

The remains of the citadel of Burgos constitute a historical survival of the greatest importance. Thus, whilst the castle itself is a modern reconstruction, the fortifi- cations that surrounded it have survived almost entirely untouched because the area in which they are contained is now a country park: aside from a small build- ing in the gorge of the hornwork, some limited leisure facilities and two access roads, the only major additions are a covered reservoir that was constructed in the early twentieth century on the eastern slopes of the Cerro de San Miguel and an erstwhile seminary that was built on the southern slopes of the Cerro de la Blanca. Despite the thick forest with which they are now shrouded, the ramparts may therefore be traced in detail (and remain impressive even now – they are in many places between six and eight metres high and are often extremely complex in nature), while it is also possible to observe some of the siege trenches and bat- teries constructed by Wellington’s forces. The pièce de résistance, however, is the three breaches that were blown in the external walls of the Cerro de la Blanca. Accompanied as they are by various works that were improvised by the French to protect them against assault, these are beyond doubt the best examples of such features to be found in either Spain or Portugal, while it may be that they are also without parallel anywhere else in Europe: as breaches were, for obvious reasons, generally filled in after a siege had come to an end, they only very rarely survive as features of the physical landscape. At the same time, meanwhile, as features that are especially dramatic in themselves, they serve as graphic reminders of the horrors regularly braved by soldiers in the Napoleonic era. The fortress of Burgos, then, is clearly an important historical site in its own right. The defensive complex, however, is important in another sense as well. As we have seen, in the course of the Peninsular War Napoleon’s forces con- structed a large number of citadels of the sort seen at Burgos as headquarters and places of refuge. However, almost none of these survive. The forts at Madrid, Salamanca and Seville have all vanished without trace, for example, whilst only fragmentary remains are to be seen at Granada and Tudela. In consequence, Burgos is vital as practically the only example of an intact French citadel. It is notable, however, that despite the riches which the site offers, little attempt has been made to realise its potential beyond the reconstruction of the castle itself. A small monument with a plaque commemorating all the dead of a siege was inaugurated in a public ceremony in 2012, but historical signage is basic at best, whilst it is unknown whether the small museum that has been opened in the courtyard of the castle has done anything to improve its coverage of the Napoleonic period. To remedy matters, at the time of writing the authors are developing a downloadable ‘app’ that will provide a detailed guide to the site. For details, please visit http://www.liv.ac.uk/peninsular-war.

156 Appendix 3: The Fortress of Burgos Today 157

Visible remains

The castle As noted above, the castle that is on show today is almost entirely a modern reconstruction, whilst, as far as can be ascertained, it bears only a passing resem- blance to the structure of 1812: in places, indeed, the walls now approach their original height, but no effort was made to reconstruct any features of the castle that were specific to the Napoleonic era, the only aspect of the site of any real interest being the well that was the defenders’ chief source of water during the siege. Thanks to the possibility of walking the walls, however, it is easy to appre- ciate the dominant position of the castle: to the east, south and south-west in particular the views are extensive.

Cerro de la Blanca Although here and there interrupted by modern building work of various sorts, for example the Seminario de San Jerónimo (now in part converted into a hotel), the ramparts have in general survived and stand out as steep-sided terraces run- ning across the hillside; these frequently still attain a height of five to six metres, while in those sectors that were faced by masonry – this last now almost all gone other than for a line of broken rubble at the foot of the defences – they are positively precipitous. Also visible, meanwhile, are considerable sections of the mediaeval wall that constituted the outermost line of defence on the south- western, western and north-western flanks of the hill (note that the wall ended abruptly at the small turret that may be observed close to the entrance to the ravine separating the Cerro de la Blanca from the Cerro de San Miguel; from here the line turned sharply inwards in a short re-entrant connecting it with the second line of defences (given that it would have been more logical to prolong the line of the wall along the ravine, it may be the case that this sector of the defences had to be hastily improvised as the Anglo-Portuguese army closed in). In places, in part owing to damage suffered during the siege, all traces of masonry have now disappeared, as has the ditch which originally protected the wall, but throughout its length the line of the wall is easy to trace as a masonry revetment or steep bank rising from the Calle Francisco Salinas (commencing at the gate of San Martín) and continuing along the aptly named Calle de Murallas, the height again being as much as six metres. A final point to note here, meanwhile, is the nature of the terrain between the first and second line of defence. Above the Calle de Murallas this consists of a broad terrace or terre plein that is now occupied by a disused football field and was the product of the scarping that produced the cliff-like front of the second line in this sector, but above the Calle Francisco Salinas the ground rises very steeply from the line of the mediaeval wall and is in part traversed by a series of terraces reminiscent of an Iron Age hill fort, it being probable that these mark the position of a series of palisades that were erected to defend what was seen as a weak point in the defences. Note, too, the remains of a small detached work that appears to have been thrown up to cover the postern that connected the terrace between the first and second lines of defence with the upper parts of the citadel. 158 Appendix 3: The Fortress of Burgos Today

Cerro de San Miguel Separated from the Cerro de la Blanca by a deep ravine that is now followed by the Camino de las Corazas, the Cerro de San Miguel may be reached by following the road that leads northwards from the castle, this skirting the western walls of the hornwork before following the line of the ditch that separated it from its protective glacis and ravelin. Today this part of the fortifications is particularly well preserved. Part of the eastern face has been lost because of the construction of the reservoir mentioned above, but, though heavily cloaked by trees, the two bastions, the curtain wall, the ravelin, the glacis and the western face all survive more or less in their original condition (the walls of the bastions and curtains, for example, rise to a height of five to six metres). Also visible just to the right of the road as one descends from the castle is the covered way that was constructed to give safe passage to and from the hornwork. Confusingly, however, the complex seen today is considerably larger than the one which faced Wellington: in 1812 the southern half of the structure had still not been built, the ramparts that one sees in this area today dating from the period after the siege. Finally, there is the issue of the three small redoubts constructed by the French as advanced posts. Designed to prevent enemy troops from using areas of dead ground to launch a surprise attack, these were simple curving banks of earth with no form of flank or rear defence. Two of them appear to have completely disappeared, but the northernmost one can be still traced (it stands at the northern crest of the Cerro de San Miguel some 200 yards beyond the wildlife centre that has been built in the centre of the hornwork’s glacis, and is particularly interesting for the manner in which it incorporates a prominent knoll into its perimeter).

Remains of the siege Thanks to the largely undeveloped nature of the site, both the Cerro de la Blanca and the Cerro de San Miguel are rich in traces of the siege of September–October 1812. Taking the two positions in the order in which they became involved in the fighting, just below the southern crest of the Cerro de San Miguel it is possible to see traces of the fire trenches that were constructed by the Anglo-Portuguese forces in an attempt to protect the two batteries that they dug in beside the hornwork after its capture on the first night of the siege; unfortunately, how- ever, no trace is visible either of the batteries constructed at the hornwork or the communication trench that was dug to connect the Allied positions on the Cerro de San Miguel with those facing the western and north-western slopes of the Cerro de la Blanca in the vicinity of the suburb of San Pedro. With respect to the Cerro de la Blanca, the situation is much more promising. Thus, the site of the two breaches that were blown in the outer wall is very clear, whilst some of the trenches dug by Wellington’s troops in the terre plein may also be traced, this being particularly the case just beyond the northern extremity of the old city wall where an approach was constructed in the lee of the re-entrant mentioned above to allow suppressive musket fire to be directed at the sector of the defences that had been chosen as the next point of attack. Best viewed from the second line of defence’s fausse-braye, this is marked in dramatic fashion by the breach that was opened in it in the last days of the siege. Accessible by a footpath that ascends from the fausse-braye to the terre plein above, this breach is extremely well preserved, so much so, indeed, that it is probably the best example of such Appendix 3: The Fortress of Burgos Today 159 a feature in the whole of Continental Europe, whilst its interest is increased by the fact that clear traces may be seen of the parapet that the French threw up to block its lip.

Environs In general, beyond the fortified area delineated above, urban growth has ensured that there are few reminders of the siege. That said, however, a number of points of interest are worth noting. Roughly parallel to the Calle de las Murallas, for example, runs the Calle de las Mesnadas. Far below the level of the defences, in 1812 this was a sunken lane that was used by Wellington’s troops as a jump-off point for their attacks on the mediaeval wall. An extremely steep flight of stairs links the street with the Calle de las Murallas via the Calle del Boforno: from this it is very clear why the fortress was so vulnerable to mining. A further point of interest, meanwhile, may be found at the junction of the Carretera del Castillo with the Calle de San Estebán. Here, two small pieces of mediaeval stonework pro- truding from the retaining wall at the foot of the Cerro de la Blanca are reputed to be all that is left of the church of San Román. As for the city, there is again little to write. However, the street plan is much the same as it was in the period of French occupation while the cathedral, especially, is little changed, and, of course, very much a point of interest in its own right. See, too, the Arco de San Juan, where the French first entered the city in the wake of the battle of Gamonal; the monumental Arco de Santa María; the Casa del Cordón, which was used as a barracks; and, finally, the Palacio de Castilfale: today occupied by municipal archives, at various points this housed Ferdinand VII, Napoleon and Joseph Bonaparte alike. In the suburbs can be found Gamonal, where there is little to be seen from the time of the battle of 1808 other than the village church; Villimar, whose parish church of San Juan de Ortega played host to the funeral of the heroic Edward Cocks; and the slightly more rural Villa Toro, the latter still containing a few of the houses that housed Wellington’s headquarters. Notes

1 Sources and Questions

1. See E. de Olivier-Copons, El castillo de Burgos: monografía histórica (Barcelona, 1893). 2. F. Sánchez-Moreno del Moral, El castillo y fortificaciones de Burgos (Burgos, 1991), p. 60. 3. The pieces concerned are as follows: A. Ortega Martínez, ‘Intervención arqueológica, 1993–1995’ in M. Sainz (ed.), Seminario sobre el castillo de Burgos (Burgos, 1997), pp. 465–508; F. Serna Montero, ‘El castillo en la Guerra de la Independencia’, in Ibid., pp. 349–70; C. Borreguero Beltrán, ‘Asedio y voladura del castillo, 1812–1813’, in Ibid., pp. 371–92; and F. Sánchez-Moreno del Moral, ‘El castillo en sus aspectos militares’, in Ibid., pp. 393–424. 4. See F. Sánchez-Moreno del Moral, ‘Aspectos militares de la Guerra de la Independencia en Burgos: el castillo y su asedio’, in C. Borreguero Beltrán (ed.), Burgos en el camino de la invasión francesa (Burgos, 2008), pp. 58–71. 5. E.g. C. Borreguero Beltrán, Burgos en la Guerra de la Independencia: enclave estratégico y ciudad expoliada (Burgos, 2007); F. Castrillejo Ibáñez, La ciudad de Burgos en la Guerra de la Independencia: años de ocupación y resistencia (Burgos, 2008); F. Castrillejo Ibáñez, ‘La vida cotidiana de los burgaleses durante la Guerra de la Independencia’ in L.S. Iglesias Rouco et al. (eds.), Estudios de historia y arte: homenaje al Profesor Alberto C. Ibáñez Pérez (Burgos, 2005), pp. 183–88. To return to the site itself, meanwhile, for an interesting col- lection of aerial views, see A.M. Saéz de Urabain, Un siglo de fotografia en Burgos, 1840–1940 (Burgos, 2010), pp. 75–85. 6. J. Belmas, Journaux des sièges faits ou soutenus par les français dans la péninsule de 1807 a 1814 (Paris, 1836–1837). Aside from the account of the defence penned by the governor, Dubreton, the most important of these documents is a report on the state of the defences written by the garrison’s chief of engi- neers on the very eve of Wellington’s arrival before the walls (see Chapter 5, footnote 11). 7. Older versions of the Jones map are to be found in J. Wyld, Maps and Plans Showing the Principal Movements, Battles and Sieges in Which the British Army was Engaged During the War from 1808 to 1814 in the Spanish Peninsula and the South of France (London, 1840); C. Vacani di Forteolivio, Storia delle campagne e degli assedi degl’Italiani in Ispagna del 1808 al 1813 (Milan, 1845); W. Napier, History of the War in the Peninsula and the South of France from 1808 to 1814 (London, 1828–1840); W. Maxwell’s Life of the Duke of Wellington (London, 1852); and C. Oman, History of the Peninsular War (Oxford, 1902–1930). More recently, it has formed the basis for more-or-less artistic depictions in F. Myatt’s British Sieges of the Peninsular War (Stroud, 1995) and I. Fletcher’s Fortresses of the Peninsular War (Oxford, 2003), pp. 42–3. Finally, for its

160 Notes 161

latest known outing, this time in facsimile, see I. Robertson, Wellington at War in the Peninsula, 1808–1814: an Overview and Guide (Barnsley, 2000), p. 216. 8. J. Davidson, ‘Some comments on the traditional historiography of the Black Watch, 1725–1815’, Journal of the Society of Army Historical Research, LXXXIV, No. 3 (Autumn, 2006), p. 223. 9. For a basic account, see H.C.G. Matthews and B. Harrison (eds.) The Oxford Dictionary of National Biography (Oxford, 2004), XXII, pp. 714–16. 10. See W. Jones (ed.), The Military Autobiography of the Major-General J.T. Jones (London, 1853). For some further details, see Colburn’s United Service Magazine, II (1843), pp. 109–115. 11. See J.T. Jones, Journal of Sieges carried out by the Army under the Duke of Wellington in Spain between the Years 1811 and 1814 (London, 1814), p. v. 12. Ibid., pp. vi–vii. 13. Ibid., 1827 edition, p. 3. 14. It should be noted, however, that, in respect of Burgos at least, the most recent biography of Wellington turns this argument round by claiming that Wellington ‘may have been influenced by the enthusiasm and assurance of John Burgoyne ...who was confident that he could take the castle with the means available’. R. Muir, Wellington: the Path to Victory, 1769–1814 (London, 2013), p. 485. 15. J.T. Jones, Account of the War in Spain, Portugal and in the South of France from 1808 to 1814 (London, 1818), p. 6. There is no absolute proof that Sarrazin’s history of the war was the target of Jones’ ire, but he was very clearly writing about a specific book, and it is difficult to see what else could have provided an equivalent target; indeed, even the date is right, Sarrazin having pub- lished his work in 1815. What seems to clinch the matter, meanwhile, is the fact that the Frenchman was bitterly critical of the work of Jones and his colleagues. Of Burgos in particular, for example, he writes, ‘It is impossible to coincide with the English general [i.e. Wellington] in the praises which he bestows on the engineers entrusted with the works of the siege. Had the attack been properly conducted, the castle must have been in possession of the allies on the fifth or sixth of October.’ See J. Sarrazin, History of the War in Spain and Portugal from 1807 to 1814 (London, 1815), p. 293. Nor does Sarrazin end his criticisms here: on the contrary, at a slightly later point he claims that, had Wellington only summoned Dubreton to surrender after the unsuccessful assault of 18 October, the latter would have laid down his arms, satisfied that he had more than done his duty by the emperor: the implication, of course, is that, shaken, perhaps, by the heavy losses his men had suffered, the British commander lost his nerve at the key moment. What evidence this accusation was based on we cannot know, but there is no doubt that it must have hurt, and all the more so as Sarrazin went on to claim that Wellington ‘s mistake ‘retarded for a year the deliverance of the Peninsula’. Ibid., p, 297. 16. For a discussion of the work of Napier and Southey, see S.H.F. Johnston, ‘The contribution of British historians to the study of the Peninsular War’, in J. García Prado, Guerra de la Independencia: estudios (Zaragoza, 1966), II, pp. 133–38. 162 Notes

17. What is true, however, is that in his public writings Jones was inclined to do as much as he could to shield Wellington himself from criticism, and that despite this fact, as we shall see, in private he was much more critical. 18. J. Gurwood (ed.), The Dispatches of Field Marshal the Duke of Wellington during his Various Campaigns in India, Denmark, Portugal, Spain, the Low Countries and France from 1789 to 1815 (London, 1852); Second Duke of Wellington (ed.), Supplementary Despatches, Correspondence and Memoranda of Field Marshal Arthur, Duke of Wellington (London, 1858–1872). The information contained in these volumes comes in several different forms, of which the most impor- tant are the official reports communicated every six or seven days to the Secretary of State for War and the Colonies (at that time Earl Bathurst) and the private letters – often far more trenchant – that Wellington wrote to a variety of correspondents, including the prime minister, Lord Liverpool, his various brothers, and a number of officials at the Horse Guards and the Foreign Office; to these, meanwhile can be added the letters written by Wellington to subordinates and other correspondents in the Peninsula. Finally, a further guide to Wellington’s views is constituted by the Gen- eral Orders issued to the army at regular intervals army, and subsequently published in the General Orders series. 19. For convenience, the works concerned may be broken down by reference to their provenance. First, Wellington’s headquarters, namely R. Muir (ed.), At Wellington’s Right Hand: the Letters of Lieutenant-Colonel Sir Alexander Gordon, 1808–1815 (Stroud, 2003); G. Glover (ed.), At Wellington’s Headquar- ters: The Letters of Robert Cooke, Army Pay Corps, 1811–1814 (Godmanchester, 2009); G. Glover (ed.), Eyewitness to the Peninsular War and the Battle of Waterloo, the Letters and Journals of Lt. Col. the Hon. James Stanhope 1803–25 (Barnsley, 2010); R. Buckley, The Napoleonic-War Journal of Cap- tain Thomas Henry Browne, 1807–1816 (London, 1987); F.C. Carr-Gomm (ed.), Letters and Journals of Field Marshal Sir William Maynard Carr-Gomm, G.C.B., Commander-in-Chief of India, Constable of the Tower of London, etc., etc, from 1799 to Waterloo, 1815 (London). Second, the First Division:, namely G. Glover (ed.), ‘It all culminated at Hougoumont’: The Letters of Captain John Lucie Blackman, Second Battalion, Coldstream Guards, 1812–1815 (Cambridge, 2009); I. Fletcher (ed.), A Guards Officer in the Peninsula: the Peninsular-War Letters of John Rous, Coldstream Guards, 1811–1812 (Staplehurst, 1997); I. Fletcher (ed.), For King and Country: The Letters and Diaries of John Mills, Coldstream Guards, 1811–14 (Staplehurst, 1995); W.F.K Thompson (ed.), An Ensign in the Peninsular War: The Letters of John Aitchison (London, 1981); Third Earl of Malmesbury (ed.), A Series of Letters of the First Earl of Malmesbury, his Family and his Friends from 1740 to 1820 (London, 1870); J. Page (ed.), Intelligence Officer in the Peninsula: Letters and Diaries of Major the Honourable Charles Somers Cocks, 1786–1812 (Tunbridge Wells, 1986); H.P. Elkington, ‘Some episodes in the life of James Goodall Elkington, an army surgeon in the Peninsular days’, Journal of the Royal Army Medical Corps, XVI, No. 1 (January, 1911), pp. 79–104. Third, the Sixth Division: G. Glover (ed.), Wellington’s Lieutenant, Napoleon’s Gaoler: the Peninsular Let- ters and Saint Helena Diaries of Sir George Rideout Bingham, 1809–21 (Barnsley, 2005); H. Ross-Lewin, With the Thirty-Second in the Peninsula and other Cam- paigns, ed. J. Wardell (Dublin, 1904); A. Mockler-Ferryman (ed.), The Life of Notes 163

a Regimental Officer in the Great War, 1793–1815, compiled from the Correspon- dence of Colonel Samuel Rice, C.B., K.H., Fifty-First Light Infantry, and from other Sources (Edinburgh, 1913); P.P. Nevill, Some Recollections in the Life of Lieut.- Col. P.P. Nevill, late Major, 63rd Regiment (London, 1864). And, finally, fourth, the engineers, artillery and other ancillary services, namely G. Glover (ed.), The Letters of Second Captain Dansey, R.A. (Cambridge, 2006); J.E. Daniel., Journal of an Officer in the Commissariat Department of the Army, comprising a Narrative of the Campaigns under His Grace the Duke of Wellington in Portugal, Spain, France and the Netherlands in the Years 1811, 1812, 1813, 1814 and 1815, and a Short Account of the Army of Occupation in France during the Years 1816, 1817 and 1818 (London, 1820); J. McGrigor, The Autobiography and Services of Sir James McGrigor, Bart., late Director General of the Army Medical Department with an Appendix of Notes and Original Correspondence (London, 1861); G.F. Burroughs, A Narrative of the Retreat of the British Army from Burgos in a Series of Letters with an Introductory Sketch of the Campaign of 1812 and Military Char- acter of the Duke of Wellington (Bristol, 1814). One work that should certainly be included here but has generally attracted little notice is William Reid’s ‘On assaults’, Reid being a Royal Engineer officer who took part in the siege of Burgos and later went on to achieve high rank: contained, as it is, in the pages of W. Denison (ed.), Papers on Subjects connected with the Duties of the Corps of Royal Engineers (London, 1837), it might be thought that the pam- phlet concerned is but a dry technical treatise, but in fact, treatise though it certainly is, it draws very heavily on Reid’s experiences at Burgos and con- tains important accounts of both the storm of the hornwork and the failed escalade of 22 September, whilst at the same time containing evidence of serious deficiencies in the Royal Engineers’ assessment of the defences. See W. Reid, ‘On assaults’, in W. Denison (ed.), Papers on Subjects connected with the Duties of the Corps of Royal Engineers (London, 1837). 20. Anon., The Personal Narrative of a Private Soldier Who Served in the Forty-Second Highlanders for Twelve Years During the Late War (London, 1821); R.H. Roy (ed.), ‘The memoirs of private James Gunn’, Journal of the Society for Army Historical Research, XLIX, No. 198 (Summer, 1971), pp. 90–120. 21. A sub-class of primary information that concerns the siege but is widely ignored by historians is the comments of British soldiers and civilians – usually very brief for understandable reasons – of men who were in the Peninsula but not at Burgos. While in one sense such views have little rel- evance to what was happening at Burgos, they are important because they are a gauge of the kinds of news, rumour and gossip circulating within the Army of the Peninsula, and may be indicative of the standing of Wellington’s reputation and the impact of events at Burgos on the morale of the army. Of rather more direct relevance are the accounts of a number of officers and men serving in formations – notably the Fifth and Seventh Divisions – that in almost every instance missed serving in the trenches, but yet took part in the manoeuvres that preceded the siege whilst at the same time experi- encing the full ravages of the autumn rains that deluged Wellington’s army. In so far as this last group is concerned, good examples include J. Bogle and A. Uffindell (eds.), A Waterloo Hero: The Reminiscences of Friedrich Lindau (London, 2009); S.A.C. Cassels (ed.), Peninsular Portrait, 1811–1814: The Let- ters of William Bragge, Third (King’s Own) Dragoons (London, 1963); J. Douglas, 164 Notes

Douglas’ Tale of the Peninsula and Waterloo, ed. S. Monick (London, 1997); J. Green, The Vicissitudes of a Soldier’s Life or a Series of Occurrences from 1803 to 1815 (London, 1827); B.H. Liddell Hart (ed.), The Letters of Private Wheeler (London, 1951); J. Tomkinson (ed.), The Diary of a Cavalry Officer in the Peninsular and Waterloo Campaigns, 1809–1815 (London, 1894). 22. For Oman’s discussion of the literature generated by Wellington’s army, see C. Oman, Wellington’s Army (London, 1913), pp. 9–38 passim. A further issue that is worth considering is that the texts we have are not necessarily com- plete: too many editors, including, be it said, Charles Oman, have had the unfortunate habit of suppressing material that they deemed to be of little interest or importance. 23. That said, Burgos has not featured very prominently in the modern histo- riography. Over the years many of the battles and sieges of the Peninsular War have received extensive treatment at the hands of popular writers – we have, for example, four accounts of the battle of Albuera alone – but it was not until 2012 that a study appeared of the Burgos campaign, and even then the actual siege was only allotted a single chapter. See C. Divall, Wellington’s Worst Scrape: the Burgos Campaign, 1812 (Barnsley, 2012). 24. See A. Salvá, Burgos en la Guerra de la Independencia (Burgos, 1913); see also C. Borreguero Beltrán, Burgos en la Guerra de la Independencia: enclave estratégico y ciudad expoliada (Burgos, 2007). 25. See ‘Rapport du Général Dubreton su la défense du chateau de Burgos en 1812’, cit. Belmas, Journaux des sièges, IV, pp. 526–51; E. Dufriche de Valazé, ‘Observations sur les sièges de Sarragosse et de Burgos appliquées á la défense des places en général’ in E. de Monglave (ed.), Relations de sièges en Espagne (Paris, n.d.), pp. 53–70. This is not to say, however, that the French memoir material is of no use. On the contrary, the vast majority of the French soldiers who fought in Spain and Portugal passed through Burgos at some point or another, and the result is that few places feature more frequently in their numerous recollections: for full details, see Chapters 2 and 3. 26. This is beyond doubt a striking work; however, to the extent that the focus is the interior of the mediaeval castle, even if some of the detail - for example, the depiction of an improvised wooden shelter – is quite suggestive, it is also seriously misleading as to the nature of the fortress. More helpful in many respects are the various nineteenth-century engrav- ings that exist of the castle and its environs. See especially those to be found at http://www.google.co.uk/imgres?imgurl=http://images.imagestate. com/Watermark/1648368.jpg&imgrefurl=http://www.heritage-images.com/ Preview/PreviewPage.aspx%3Fid%3D1648368%26licenseType%3DRM% 26from%3Dsearch%26back%3D1648368%26orntn%3D2&usg= __1wA9rQcWaSCF_ms8pGXut9R7n6I=&h=375&w=512&sz=68&hl=en&start= 2&zoom=1&itbs=1&tbnid=qVdrD44WvnfzOM:&tbnh=96&tbnw=131&prev =/images%3Fq%3DBurgos%2Bnineteenth%2Bcentury%26hl%3Den%26sa% 3DG%26gbv%3D2%26tbs%3Disch:1&ei=tltZTf7ZN4uDhQf8mtjVDA and http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/1/18/Burgos_centre _c1850.jpg. 27. In fairness, Divall does list all three of the National-Archive series cited above, but the information contained therein does not appear to have been deployed in the relevant chapter. Notes 165

28. Oman, Peninsular War,VI,p.4. 29. J. Weller, Wellington in the Peninsula, 1808–1814 (London, 1962), p. 246. 30. This is, indeed, a point made with some vigour by some of Wellington’s apologists. Here, for example, is Jac Weller: ‘Critics have made comments in connexion with the transporting of siege guns from Madrid, from Ciudad Rodrigo and from British ships-of-war at Santander. Some of these have not appreciated that a long iron 18–pounder weighing 5,600 lb. is quite differ- ent from a field gun with a gross weight of 800 lb. It was certainly possible to send guns from Santander, but the two pieces dispatched from there on 9 October were only at Reinosa on the 19th, an average of four miles a day over relatively easy territory. Oman ...glibly states that there were only 50 miles to go, but this is a point-to-point measurement on a map. These pieces could not have reached Burgos until the middle of November at the earliest. In any event, would two guns have altered the situation apprecia- bly? A dozen siege guns, even if ordered up on 19 September could not be expected to reach the town till the end of October. For a historian to fault Wellington in regard to military transportation in an area which he knew and controlled is as dangerous is to criticise his tactical dispositions.’ Ibid., p. 236. 31. Jones, Journal, 1827 edition, I, p. 365. 32. Ibid., I, p. 369; it will be noted that, having initially complained of the lack of guns, Jones is very careful to back away from this point here. 33. Typical enough is the version of events offered by Gordon Corrigan. Thus: ‘Wellington decided that his next step should be to follow up Clausel’s retreating army, which might allow him to capture Burgos ...Wellington crossed the River Douro [sic] unopposed on 6 September and reached Burgos on the eighteenth.’ See G. Corrigan, Wellington: a Military Life (London, 2001), pp. 220–21. 34. See Weller, Wellington in the Peninsula, pp. 234–5. If the siege was the product of circumstance, however, in Weller’s view it was still a fortuitous develop- ment, and one that offered a solution to the whole conundrum in which Wellington had been placed. Thus: ‘With an Allied garrison in the castle and Mina, Longa and other guerrillas of this area in the surrounding hills, no French commander would have dared move past Burgos.’ Ibid., p. 235. Sarrazin, meanwhile, goes still further than this: in his eyes, Wellington could have left the Spanish forces accompanying him at Burgos as a strong garrison, and marched on Valencia, thereby forcing the French forces there to retire beyond the River Ebro. Sarrazin, History of the War in Spain and Portugal, p. 297. 35. R. Holmes, Wellington, the Iron Duke (London, 2002), p. 170. 36. Divall, Wellington’s Worst Scrape, pp. 31–3.

2 Beginnings

1. For the development of Burgos in the Middle Ages, see F. Ortega Barriuso, Breve historia de Burgos (Burgos, 1998), pp. 18–74; C. Estepa Díez, Burgos en la edad media (Valladolid, 1984); H. Casado Alonso, Señores, mercaderes y campesinos: la comarca de Burgos a fines de la edad media (Valladolid, 1987). 166 Notes

2. H. Casado Alonso and C. Camarero Bullón, Burgos, 1751, según las respuestas generales del catastro de Ensenada (Madrid, 1994), pp. 7–46. 3. J.F. Peyron, Nouveau voyage en Espagne fait en 1777 et 1778 dans lequel on traite des moeurs, du caractère, des monuments anciens et modernes, du commerce, du théâtre, de la legislation des tribunaux particuliers a ce royaume, et de l’Inquisition avec des nouveaux détails sur son étât actuel (London, 1783), I, p. 343. For the consulado and the Real Compañía de San Carlos, see P. Molas Ribalta, ‘La restauración del consulado de Burgos en el siglo XVIII’, in J. Burgos González et al. (eds.), La ciudad de Burgos: actas del congreso de historia de Burgos (León, 1985), pp. 429–40; J.M. Aguirre Huerto, ‘La Real Compañía de la ciudad de Burgos, 1767–73’, in ibid., pp. 442–54. 4. Ortega Barriuso, Breve Historia, pp. 90–3. However, the Burgos branch of the Real Sociedad Económica appears to have been short lived, the problem being that the consulado was in practice pursuing many of the same aims. 5. See Peyron, Nouveau voyage en Espagne, I, pp. 339–40; A. Laborde, AViewof Spain comprising a Descriptive Itinerary of each Province and a General Statisti- cal Account of the Country, including its Population, Manufactures, Agriculture, Commerce and Finance; its Government [and] Civil and Military Establishments; the State of the Arts, Sciences and Literature; its Manners, Customs and Natu- ral History, etc. (London, 1809), III, pp. 14–20. For a number of alternative views, none of them much of an improvement, see A. Nougué, ‘La ciudad de Burgos vista por los viajeros franceses en el siglo XIX’, Boletín Corporativo de la Academía Burgense, No. 198 (1982), pp. 133–60. The estimate given here of a population of a mere 8,000 souls seems a little low in comparison with the 13,614 inhabitants recorded by the 1787 census. However, even if 8,000 is too low, such had been the mortality consequent upon the subsistence crisis of 1803–1804 that it is doubtful whether the city could muster more than 10,000 inhabitants. 6. Laborde, View of Spain, III, p. 20. 7. The original parish church of Burgos, this basilica dated in its current form from the tenth century, and was sited near a cave where an image of Our Lady had supposedly been revealed to the daughter of the city’s founder, Count Diego Rodríguez. Christened Santa María la Blanca on account of the light-coloured rocks that constituted the walls of the cave and housed in the church which came to bear its name, the image remained the object of great veneration right up until the Napoleonic period, while the cave in which it was found also survived, only to be buried forever when the French set about the fortification of the Cerro de la Blanca. After the return of peace in 1814, the building was demolished and what was left of the stone sold for use in building work, but the image had been rescued from the church in 1808 and was eventually installed in the church of San Pedro de la Fuente. See J. Ojeda Calvo, ‘La iglesia de Nuestra Señora de la Blanca’ in Sainz, Castillo de Burgos, pp. 291–322. 8. See Sánchez-Moreno, ‘El castillo en sus aspectos militares’, pp. 401–2. 9. For the history of the castle of Burgos prior to 1808, see Olivier-Copons, Castillo de Burgos, pp. 13–150 passim. Also of use is I. Gil y Gavilondo, Memorias históricas de Burgos y su provincia con noticias de las fortalezas, castil- los, torres de defensa y arquitectura militar de esta provincia (Burgos, 1913). In mediaeval times the south-western slopes of the hill appear to have been Notes 167

inhabited, in part at least, by the city’s substantial Jewish community, but with the expulsion of the latter the area appears to have been abandoned: at all events no houses are recorded as having stood there in 1808. Note that the stretch of city wall that separated the Cerro de la Blanca from the Cerro de San Miguel had formed a part of the section of the defences that had been demolished in the eighteenth century. 10. P. Carasa Soto, Pauperismo y revolución burguesa: Burgos, 1750–1900 (Valladolid, 1987), pp. 102–3. 11. Ibid., p. 105. 12. Ibid., pp. 103–4. 13. Ortega Barriuso, Breve historia, p. 96. 14. M. Cuartas Rivero, ‘La desamortización de Carlos IV en la ciudad de Burgos’ in Burgos González, Ciudad de Burgos, pp. 509–26. 15. J.M. López Gómez, ‘Medicina y sanidad en Burgos en la Guerra de la Independencia: los médicos titulares de la ciudad – cambios y actuaciones, 1808–1814’, in J.M. López Gómez y V. Ruiz de Mencia (eds.), Burgos, tierra invadida: lucha, supervivencia y crisis en la Guerra de la Independencia (Burgos, 2010), pp. 107–13. 16. A. Salvá, Burgos en la Guerra de la Independencia, ed. C. Borreguero Beltrán (Burgos, 2008), pp. 37-8. What even the temporary presence of so many troops meant for the city is suggested by the fact that each day every French soldier was supposed to receive 28 ounces of bread, eight ounces of meat, two ounces of vegetables, an unspecified quantity of salt and half a pint of wine. 17. J.A. Oyon, Campagnes et souvenirs militaires, 1805–1814 (Paris, 1997), pp. 94–6. 18. Ibid., p. 17. 19. Salvá, Burgos en la Guerra de la Independencia, , p. 50. 20. J.F. Boulart, Mémoires militaires du Général Baron Boulart sur les guerres de la république et de l’empire (Paris, n.d.), p. 186. Boulart further records that he attended a bullfight that was put on to celebrate the events of Aranjuez, only to be horrified by the gory nature of the spectacle it afforded. 21. Salvá, Burgos, pp. 40–6. 22. Ibid., pp. 54–5; E. García de Quevedo, Las víctimas burgalesas de la Guerra de la Independencia (Burgos, 1937), pp. 13–16. 23. L.F. Lejeune, Memoirs of Baron Lejeune, Aide-de-Camp to Marshals Berthier, Davout and Oudinot, ed. N. Bell (London, 1897), I, p. 78. Lejeune wrongly ascribes this riot to 2 May. 24. R. Brindle (ed.), Campaigning for Napoleon: The Diary of a Napoleonic Cavalry Officer, 1806–13 (Barnsley, 2006), p. 41. 25. Boulart, Mémoires militaires, p. 186. 26. Salvá, Burgos, pp. 61–2. 27. L.S. de Girardin, Journal et souvenirs, discours et opinions de S. Girardin (Paris, 1828), IV, p. 117; Salvá, Burgos, pp. 62–4. Like Napoleon after him, Joseph was lodged in the imposing house belonging to the Valdés family in the Calle Fernan González (today the Palacio de Castilfalé). 28. Girardin, Journal et Souvenirs, IV, pp. 152–3, 161. 29. A. Miot de Melito, Mémoires du Comte Miot de Melito, ancien ministre, ambassadeur, conseilleur d’état et membre de l’institut (Paris, 1858), III, p. 15. 168 Notes

30. Comtesse de Beaulaincourt-Marles (ed.), Journal du Maréchal de Castellane, 1804–1862 (Paris, 1895–97), I, p. 27. 31. L. Stampa Pineiro, Pólvora, plata y boleros: memorias de testigos y combatientes en la Guerra de la Independencia (Madrid, 2011), p. 458. 32. Salvá, Burgos, p. 72. 33. Ibid., pp. 74–8. 34. T. Simmons (ed.), Memoirs of a Polish Lancer: The Pamietniki of Dezydery Chlapowski (Chicago, 1992), p. 43. 35. By far the best account of the battle of Gamonal that is available in English is the one retailed by Charles Oman; see Oman, Peninsular War, I, pp. 421–3. For further details, see R.G. de Barthelémy, El Marquesito: Juan Díaz Porlier, general que fue de los ejércitos nacionales, 1788–1815 (Santiago de Compostela, 1995), I, pp. 38–45. 36. Beaulaincourt-Marles , Journal du Maréchal de Castellane, pp. 31–2. 37. Ibid., p. 32. The whole area in which the battle took place is now a suburb of Burgos, and is therefore changed beyond recognition, but just west of Gamonal there was just such a spot as Castellane describes, the high road from the French frontier to Madrid crossing the Río Pico by means of a stone bridge. 38. P. de Ségur, Memoirs of an Aide-de-Camp of Napoleon, 1800–1812, ed. H.A. Patchett-Martin (Stroud, 1996), p. 323. 39. After the battle, fugitives from Belveder’s army were left scattered across the countryside as dispersos. Of these many turned their back on the fighting and either made their way home or became bandits, but at least two – a lieutenant colonel in the Regimiento de Mallorca named Juan Díaz Porlier and a sergeant in the same unit named Bartolomé Amor became prominent figures in the guerrilla war in northern Spain. 40. Beaulaincourt-Marles, Journal du Maréchal de Castellane, p. 33. At least one French officer later claimed that the fires that broke out in various places were the result of angry troops torching houses from which they had been fired upon. In the general confusion, it is not impossible that trapped Spanish soldiers may have fired at enemy troops who were about to cut them down, but the excuse is at best a lame one: resistance within the city was clearly all but non-existent, the conflagration rather being the fruit of, at best, indiscipline, and, at worst, vindictiveness or even simple vandalism. See Pineiro, Pólvora, plata y boleros, pp. 458–9. 41. Ségur, Memoirs, p. 326. 42. Stampa Pineiro, Pólvora, plata y boleros, p. 460. In at least one instance, the author goes too far here: as will become clear, Santa María la Blanca survived the disaster in good enough order to serve the garrison that was afterwards installed in the city as a storehouse and magazine. However, it is by no means impossible that it was severely damaged. What does seem unlikely, however, is Stampa Pineiro’s claim that the fires that devastated parts of the city were laid at the orders of the General Antoine Lasalle. Setting aside the fact that Lasalle, who was only a brigade commander, is unlikely to have taken such an action on his own account, burning down a city that was clearly at the very least going to be a major way-station on the main road to Madrid was scarcely in the French interest. 43. Ibid., p. 457. Notes 169

44. L. Fantin des Odoards, Journal du Général Fantin des Odoards: étapes d’un officier de la Grande Armée, 1800–1830 (Paris, 1895), pp. 188–9. A story retailed by another French soldier to the effect that a number of French sol- diers billeted in the cathedral were lured to their deaths by some insurgents hiding in the tower may therefore be regarded as apocryphal; see J. Fortescue (ed.), The Notebooks of Captain Coignet (London, 1989), pp. 165–6. According to Ségur, the cathedral was spared because the troops who approached its doors were overcome with awe and its air of grandeur and mystery, but a more prosaic explanation is that Jean D’Armagnac, the officer who had been named as governor of the city, rushed to protect its treasures with a view to having at least some of them sent to France. Ségur, Memoirs, p. 328; Salvá, Burgos, p. 85. 45. A. de Gonneville, Recollections of Colonel de Gonneville (ed.) C. Yonge (London, 1875), p. 175. 46. L. Var (ed.), Campagnes du Capitaine Marcel du 69e de Ligne en Espagne et Portugal, 1808–1814 (Paris, 1914), pp. 10–11. So far was Marcel’s unit from being disciplined for its part in the rampage that on 14 November it was reviewed by Napoleon himself, the emperor praising it for its distinguished record and presenting it with 14 crosses of the Legion of Honour. See ibid., p. 11. 47. Salvá, Burgos, pp. 80–1. Amongst the many refugees were the city’s com- munity of Barefoot Carmelites, who, sometimes walking all night and constantly menaced by French cavalry patrols, made their way on foot through bitter winter weather to sister houses in, first, Lerma, then Segovia and finally Avila, from whence they dispersed to similar institutions in Palencia and Valladolid. See Anon., ‘Salida de la Comunidad de Carmelitas Descalzas de Burgos y trabajos que pasaron en la invasión francesa’, cit. J. Sanz (ed.), Monjas en guerra, 1808–1814: testimonios de mujeres desde el claustro (Madrid, 2010), pp. 23–6. 48. Miot de Melito, Mémoires, III, p. 22. 49. Joseph Bonaparte to Napoleon, 10 November 1808, cit. A. du Casse (ed.), Mémoires et correspondance politique et militaire du Roi Joseph (Paris, 1854), V, p. 267. 50. D.G. Chandler, The Campaigns of Napoleon (London, 1966), p. 638. For the looting of the archbishop’s palace, see Ségur, Memoirs, p. 326. 51. Salvá, Burgos, pp. 86–8. The ease with which the French secured the sup- port of a variety of local notables in Burgos is nothing out of the ordinary. From one end of Spain to the other, the propertied classes and, with them, many representatives of the administration and the Church, had no hesita- tion in respect of rallying to the Bonapartist cause, though it is clear that their loyalty was in many cases little more than skin deep. 52. See Napoleon to A. Berthier, 8 November 1808, cit. H. Plon and J. Dumaine (eds.), Correspondance de Napoléon I publiée par ordre de l’Empereur Napoléon III (Paris, 1858–69), XVIII, p. 43. 53. ‘Note sur le fort de Burgos’, 12 November 1808, in ibid., pp. 54–6; see also Salvá, Burgos, p. 87. There is much more to this plan, Napoleon also sug- gesting that the defence lines should be doubled in all those sectors which an enemy might conceivably breach and that the garrison should be pro- vided with bombproof shelters. There is no mention, however, of the works 170 Notes

that were eventually built on the crest of the Cerro de San Miguel. Also clear from Napoleon’s remarks is the fact that the long stretch of the city walls that shut in the northern slopes of the Cerro de La Blanca had been completely dismantled at some point prior to 1808. 54. For two case studies in this policy of ‘castellisation’, see J.C. Castillo Armenteros and M.C. Pérez Martínez, ‘Del castillo medieval a fortificación francesa: el castillo de Santa Catalina (Jaén) durante la Guerra de la Independencia’, in F. Acosta Ramírez (ed.), La Guerra de la Independencia (1808–1814): perspéctivas des de Europa – actas de las terceras jornadas sobre la batalla de Bailén y la España comtemporánea (Jaén, 2002), pp. 171–238, and B. Vincente, ‘La ocupación de la Alhambra, 1810–1812’, in J.M. Delgado Barrado (ed.), Andalucía en guerra, 1808–1814 (Jaén, 2010), pp. 163–70. 55. In fairness, it is worth pointing out that in a memorandum for the engineers drawn up the night before Napoleon entered Burgos, the emperor suggests that something else was in his mind than just giving his field armies a point d’appui. Thus: ‘It will be necessary to consider what profit can be derived from the castle of Burgos and such other places as we might come to. Every thirty leagues – that is to say every three marches – a stronghold of the sort that it represents should be constructed. In these forts four or five hun- dred men could secure themselves against all insult, whilst they could also be used to house such effects ...as supplies, uniforms ...cartridges and can- non balls. Where there are no churches or other buildings ready to hand, all this could be stored in special barracks.’ See ‘Note pour le service du génie’, 10 November 1808, in Plon and Dumaine, Correspondance de Napoléon I, XVIII, pp. 50–1. 56. Cit. Stampa Pineiro, Pólvora, plata y boleros, pp. 459–60.

3 Occupation

1. See P. Thiébault, Memoirs of General Thiébault, ed. A.J. Butler (London, 1896), II, pp. 248, 250. 2. Salvá, Burgos, pp. 109–11. The letter from Blandau is worth quoting; thus: ‘It is very surprising that, notwithstanding the very precise orders that you received on 29 June from His Excellency the Governor, you should yester- dayhavewrittentometothat...you still do not have the workforce that you need ...In so far as this issue is concerned, there has been a scandalous degree of negligence, and this suggests to me either that you have failed to understand that His Excellency’s instructions were directed towards the tran- quillity of the inhabitants, or that you have been negligent in the discharge of your duties. In consequence, then, I am warning you that if the gaps in the walls have not been completely blocked by the fifth day of this same month of July, you will be answerable to me for it, and with you all the other members of the city council. I advise you, then, to take every possible means to ensure that the orders are carried out; if not, you will discover that this is not just a matter of words.’ 3. Salvá, Burgos, p. 111. 4. It may also be surmised that the castle’s well – the only source of fresh water that the site possessed – was dredged and cleared of rubble, a task in which Notes 171

the defenders were aided by the fact that it can be accessed by a spiral stair- way that girdles it for its entire depth; see B. Valdivielso Ausín, ‘El pozo del castillo’, in Sainz, Castillo de Burgos, pp. 291–322. 5. It is also worth noting that the wall was not free-standing: along part of its length the hillside had effectively been scarped in the course of its construc- tion and rose very steeply directly from its top, while elsewhere centuries of erosion had filled in the space behind it with earth, the result being that, even if the wall was brought down, the attacker would still be faced by a solid wall of slippery clay. 6. Salvá, Burgos, p. 112. It is worth noting here that, such losses to its property aside, at a parochial level the Church was little affected by the occupation: few parish clergy appear to have left the city, while the only usual round of services survived intact, not least because the clergy at the very least made no attempt to stir up resistance to the invaders and participated in their ceremonies without demur; see A. Gonzalo Gozalo, ‘Desde la experiencia: el clero de Burgos ante la invasión francesa’, in C. Borreguero Beltrán, (ed.), La Guerra de la Independencia en el mosaico penínsular, 1808–1814 (Burgos, 2011), pp. 675–96. 7. It should be noted here that, while generally accepted, this description of the hornwork does not quite tally with the one given by Edward Cocks, an officer who, as we shall see, played a major part in its capture. Thus, according to him, the work resembled ‘a square’ and was enclosed on three sides ‘by an earthen rampart thirty-five feet from the bottom of the ditch to the top’. The fourth side, he continued, was left open, and yet could still boast ‘a strong, pointed palisading seven feet high, placed on the top of the steep earthen bank twelve feet high’. Cit. Page, Intelligence Officer in the Peninsula, p. 195. 8. Salva, Burgos, p. 89. 9. See ‘Plan du fort du Burgos et projet de rectification’; the authors owe their knowledge of this document, which is housed in the collections of the Archivo General Militar at Segovia (ref. SG.Ar.E-T.6-C.1-122(2)), to Don Jesus Maroto of the Foro para el Estudio de la Historia Militar de España. It is repro- duced in this work from Ministerio de Defensa (ed.), Cartografia de la Guerrade la Independencia (Madrid, 2008). When this revision was carried out, we sim- ply do not know. However, it is tempting to believe that it was prompted by Wellington’s dramatic move to a full-scale offensive in the first months of 1812: what is certainly the case is that none of the changes that were mooted were ever undertaken. 10. Dufriche de Valazé, ‘Observations sur les sieges de Saragosse et de Burgos’, p. 57. The reference in this commentary to the old mediaeval wall of the fortress is particularly interesting. Exactly as Valazé says, this did indeed cover only a part of the perimeter. Thus, starting at the city’s western gate, it ran alongside the main road to Palencia and Valladolid for several 100 yards before curving northwards round the base of the Cerro de la Blanca and abruptly terminating at a spot at the mouth of the ravine between the Cerro de la Blanca and the Cerro de San Miguel, the length beyond that hav- ing been torn down for building stone. At the same time, it was indeed only the northern parts of it that were properly parapeted. What Valazé does not explain, however, is not only that the southern part of the wall was excep- tionally high, but, first, that it was backed by a slope so precipitous that it 172 Notes

would have been near impossible to assault, and, second, that the garrison had rendered the ascent still more inaccessible by the construction of several lines of terraced palisades. 11. It is but fair to say here that these remarks are substantiated by Dubreton, who further rightly points out that, even had it been finished, the hornwork was all but untenable, the problem being that the plateau beyond its north- ern walls could not be covered by the fire of the main fortress. See ‘Rapport du Général Dubreton’, cit. Belmas, Journaux des sieges, IV, p. 528. Even more damning, meanwhile, is a long report written by the garrison’s senior engi- neer officer, one Pinot, on 13 September 1812. Thus, this document lists all the usual defects – for example, the lack of cover for the garrison, the barely finished state of the hornwork and the vulnerability of the ramparts to bom- bardment from afar on account of the physical nature of the site, and, above all, the impossibility of constructing any sort of glacis – but it also goes into considerable detail respecting other problems such as the manner in which the garrison were constantly vulnerable to being sniped at on the one side from the slopes of the Cerro de San Miguel and on the other from the tow- ers of the cathedral and other churches, yet another issue being that the whole site was extremely cramped, the defenders in consequence having no room to deploy or manoeuvre. Having been unable, or so he said, to do any- thing to remedy any of these disadvantages for want of men and material, Pinot’s summary of the situation, then, was scarcely optimistic: ‘From all these details, Your Excellency will conclude that, despite the fact that none of those employed at the site have been lacking in zeal and devotion, the value of the fortifications of Burgos will consist in nothing more or less than that of the troops who defend them, and that the length of its resistance will be considerably less than that which has previously been hoped for.’ See Pinot to H. Clarke, 13 September 1812, cit., Belmas, Journaux des sieges,IV, pp. 511–15. 12. The practice employed by the French in this respect is somewhat confusing. In brief, D’Armagnac and his successors (Thiébault, Solignac and Dorsenne) were the governor not just of Burgos, but of the whole of Old Castile, the city having in addition a separate fortress governor (initially Jacques Blondeau and later various others including, finally, the hero of the siege of 1812, Jean Dubreton). 13. Thiébault, Memoirs, II, pp, 224–23. 14. See J.L. Tone, The Fatal Knot: the Guerrilla War in Navarre and the Defeat of Napoleon in Spain (Chapel Hill, NC, 1994), pp. 42–4. 15. Thiébault, Memoirs, II, pp. 242–5. 16. Salvá, Burgos, pp. 85–6. 17. C. Borreguero Beltrán, Burgos en la Guerra de la Independencia (Burgos, 2007), p. 118. 18. Paintings and other works of art that are believed to have come to France as a result of D’Armagnac’s activities are still to be found in galleries such as the Louvre and Berlin’s Gemäldegalerie. See M.D. Antigüedad del Castillo- Olivares, ‘Arte y conflicto bélico en Burgos: coleccionismo y expolio’, in Borreguero Beltrán, Guerra de la Independencia en el mosaico penínsular, p. 622. 19. Salvá, Burgos, p. 90; Thiébault, Memoirs, pp. 245–6. 20. Girardin, Journal et Souvenirs, IV, pp. 216–17. Notes 173

21. A.L.A. Fée, Souvenirs de la Guerre d’Espagne, dite de l’Independance, 1809–1813 (Paris, 1856), p. 22. Fée was, however, much impressed with the cathedral, of which he provides a detailed description, while he also noted seeing swarms of workmen labouring on the slopes of the Cerro de la Blanca. 22. L. Junot, Mémoires de Madame la Duchesse d’Abrantes, ou souvenirs historiques sur Napoléon, la Révolution, le Directoire, le Consulat, l’Empire et la Révolution (Brussels 1837), II, p. 579. 23. Salvá, Burgos, pp. 94–6. For the prohibition of church burials, see Order of the Day, 24 February 1809, Archivo Municipal de Burgos (hereafter AMBu.) C2-11-14/7. The issue of the construction of new cemeteries on ‘green-field’ sites beyond the limits of the towns and cities which they served had been something of a topic in Spain for the past few years in that the policy had actually been initiated by the regime of Charles IV, only to face fierce resis- tance at the hands of a populace convinced that their chances of attaining eternal life depended on being buried within the precincts of a church. One may assume, then, that Thiébault’s decision to implement it in Burgos, evi- dently a city whose town council had not yet got around to complying with the new legislation, was far more controversial than a bare account of the situation might suggest. 24. See Reglamento de Policia Militar para la Ciudad de Burgos, 7 January 1809, AMBu. C2-11-14/2. 25. Salvá, Burgos, p. 95. 26. Ibid., pp. 98–103. The monument, which is not to be confused with the city’s present-day statue of El Cid (a Franquist creation dating from 1955), survived until 1826 when it was demolished and the remains of Díaz de Vivar and his wife removed first to San Pedro de Cardenas and then to the town hall before finally being interred in their present resting place in the cathedral in 1921. 27. Ibid., p. 104. 28. Ibid., pp. 104–5. As can be imagined, in practice the city could never met the demands placed upon it, and instead fell further and further behind with its payments: in the whole of 1811, for example, the sum total paid over to the French amounted to a mere 1,789,079 reales (2,556,629 if one includes pay- ments in kind); However, such dilatoriness simply laid the populace open to fresh acts of repression, it being common practice for families who fell behind with their payments to have a soldier billeted on them at ‘free quar- ters’ until they paid off their debts; see F. Castrillejo Ibáñez, ‘La ciudad de Burgos, ejemplo de ciudad ocupada: entre el colaboracionismo y la resisten- cia’, in Borreguero Beltrán, Guerra de la Independencia en el mosaico penínsular, p. 553. 29. For Amorós’ visit to Burgos and the misdeeds of General Thiébault, see R. Fernández Sirvent, Francisco Amorós y los inicios de la educación física mod- erna: biografía de un funcionario al servicio de España y Francia (Alicante, 2005), pp. 124–32. 30. For the city council’s approach to Joseph Bonaparte, see ‘Exposición de la Ciudad de Burgos’, 22 May 1809, AMBu. C-66/3. 31. That the Church was hit very heavily by the French occupation, there is no doubt: when a forced loan of 100,000,000 reales was demanded of the Spanish Church by the government of Joseph Bonaparte at the beginning of 1809, the archdiocese of Burgos’ share was assessed at 250,000 reales, and this 174 Notes

at a time when many of the estates on which it relied for income were being stripped bare by the French armies; see Gonzalo Gozalo, ‘Desde la experien- cia’, p. 683. Meanwhile, if the cathedral was not stripped of its valuables by force, it still had to surrender much of its plate in accordance with instruc- tions issued by the josefino government in Madrid to the effect that every church in Spain should hand in every item of gold or silver in its possession except those which were absolutely necessary for the celebration of Mass and other religious ceremonies. Desperate efforts at subterfuge, including not least the claim that various items that figured on the list of those to be handed over had been lost, did succeed in limiting the damage a little, but there is no doubt that by 1813 the cathedral’s patrimony had suffered serious damage. See A.C. Ibáñez-Pérez and R.J. Payo Hernanz, ‘La invasion francesa y el patrimonio catedrálico’, in Borreguero Beltrán, Guerra de la Independencia, pp. 581–4. 32. P. Carasa Soto, ‘Burgos 1808–1814: ruina de la ilustración y vuelta de la tradi- ción’, in Instituto Municipal de Cultura y Turismo (ed.), Burgos en el camino de la invasion francesa, 1807–1813 (Burgos, 2008), p. 27. 33. R. Brindle (ed.), With Napoleon’s Guns: The Military Memoirs of an Officer of the First Empire (London, 2005), p. 81; G. Gleig, The Light Dragoon (London, 1853), p. 96. Graphic testimony of the epidemics that ravaged Burgos in the course of the war is afforded by the recent discovery of a series of mass graves that were dug on a hillside above the suburb of the La Vega on the left bank of the River Arlanzón, this being a site that was within easy reach of several religious houses known to have been used as hospitals as well as in all probability the one described by Gleig. Only a relatively limited number of the 1,287 bodies, the vast majority of them those of men aged between 18 and 30, revealing any evidence of trauma wounds, it may be assumed that the remains belong to soldiers of the garrison and their dependents – there are also a small number of women and children – who died of disease, this being rendered all the more likely by the fact that Salvá specifically refers to dead bodies being taken from the hospitals concerned and interred at a spot ‘beyond the hermitage of Santa Cruz’, this being a description that fits the burial site extremely well. See C. Alonso Fernández, ‘Demografía del conflicto a través de la arquiología’, in Borreguero Beltrán, Guerra de la Independencia en el mosaico penínsular, pp. 635–48; Salvá, Burgos, p. 149. Meanwhile, for a good example of the French insistence on keeping the streets clear of rubbish and other detritus, see ‘Reglamento de policía para la ciudad de Burgos’, 22 May 1810, AMBu. C-22/180. 34. A. Blayney, Narrative of a Forced Journey through Spain and France as a Prisoner of War in the Years 1810 to 1814 (London, 1814), I, pp. 369–70. Dorsenne was Burgos’ fourth governor, Thiébault having relinquished the position in February 1810 and briefly been replaced by Jean-Baptiste Solignac. 35. Salvá, Burgos, p. 129. 36. Ibid., pp. 153–4. The success of the saddlers in pressing their case is inter- esting as it testifies to tensions in the French camp. Thus, the claim of the French artisans that they were in effect military contractors rested on the support of the military authorities, but the intendant was a representative of the civil government of Joseph Bonaparte, it being precisely this govern- ment that was being cheated out of its revenue: hence the support that he Notes 175

was ready to give the saddlers. Meanwhile, it was not just the saddlers and other artisans who suffered, the proprietors of Burgos’ many traditional tav- erns also finding themselves under great pressure from the many cafés that, as this extract implies, were being opened to serve the French forces: if by no means cheaper, these were far more comfortable whilst also offering a much wider range of products; see L.S. Iglesias Rouco and M.J. Zaparaín Yáñez, ‘Ciudad y cultura: Burgos, 1808–1813’ in Instituto Municipal de Cultura y Turismo, Burgos en el camino de la invasion francesa, p. 86. 37. Girardin, Journal et souvenirs, IV, p. 218. 38. Thiébault, Memoirs, II, p. 269. In his memoirs, Thiébault claims that for a long time there was no trouble in Burgos at all, and that it only witnessed the emergence of guerrilla bands after he was replaced by other commanders who adopted a harsher line than he had. This, however, is patently untrue, whilst it seems that he had very little to congratulate himself upon, one of the accusations made against him by Amorós being that, being both lazy and ineffectual, his boasts of leniency in fact covered a complete lack of action; see Fernández Sirvent, Francisco Amorós, pp. 125–6. 39. For an excellent description of these operations, see P. Haythornthwaite (ed.), In the Peninsula with a French Hussar (London, 1990), pp. 197–211. 40. Ibid., p. 211. 41. The most recent study of Juan Martín Diéz is constituted by A. Cassinello Pérez, Juan Martín, ‘el Empecinado’, o el amor a la libertad (Madrid, 1995); meanwhile, for a fictionalised version of the life of Merino, see J. Aranda Aznar, Merino, el guerrillero (Madrid, 2000). Barriolucio is a more shadowy figure, but a resumé of his services may be found in ‘Real Orden y Certificado sobre conducta del Marqués de Barriolucio en la Guerra de la Independencia’, n.d., AMBu. C-222. 42. Anchía y Urquiza is better known as Longa, this being a reference to his nom de guerre, Francisco de Longa. For a recent biography, see J. Pardo de Santayana, Francisco de Longa – de guerrilla a general en la Guerra de la Independencia: historia de una guerrilla (Madrid, 2007). 43. Gleig, Light Dragoon, pp. 95–6. If Farmer is a little over-enthusiastic here, there is no doubt that partisans on occasion came very close to the city indeed, as on one occasion in May 1812 when the horses being used to pull the cart that carried dead bodies from the city’s hospitals to the burial ground mentioned above were stolen by some raiders; see Salvá, Burgos, p. 149. 44. See C.J. Esdaile, Fighting Napoleon: Guerrillas, Bandits and Adventurers in Spain, 1808–1814 (London, 2004), pp. 140–1. 45. Thiébault, Memoirs, II, p. 251. 46. Gleig, The Light Dragoon, pp. 97–9. 47. Ibid., p. 98. 48. Salvá, Burgos, p. 160. 49. Ibid., pp. 152–3, 194–5. For the clerical exodus from the city, cf. Ibáñez Pérez and Payo Hernanz, ‘La invasión francesa y el patrimonio catedrálico’, pp. 572–4. 50. Cf. P. Thiébault to J. Pérez de Ceballos, 30 June 1809, AMBu. C2-11-14/10. 51. See Salvá, Burgos, p. 187. After the war the palace was rebuilt, only to be demolished in 1914 on the grounds that it marred the southern aspect of the cathedral. 176 Notes

52. Thiébault, Memoirs, II, pp. 284–5. 53. Ibid., p. 285. There is no reason, of course, to believe that things were very different under Thiébault, much though he might assert how beloved he made himself of the inhabitants. In general, meanwhile, Dorsenne was treated very harshly by Thiébault: for a more balanced assessment; see O.R. Melgosa Oter, ‘La vida cotidiana de un gobernador francés en España: el general Dorsenne en Burgos, 1810–1812’ in Borreguero Beltrán, Guerra de la Independencia en el mosaico peninsular, pp. 733–53. 54. For the case of Thérèse Sans-Gêne, see R. Ouvrard, ‘Les femmes dans les armées de Napoléon’, accessed at http://www.histoire-empire.org/articles/ cantiniere/femmes_aux_armees_de_napoleon.htm, 14 May 2014.

4 The March

1. R. Long to C. Long, 2 August 1812, cit. T.H. McGuffie (ed.), Peninsular Cavalry General, 1811–1: The Correspondence of Lieutenant-General Robert Ballard Long (London, 1951), p. 212. 2. For a general account of the strategic situation in the wake of the Battle of Salamanca, see C.J. Esdaile, The Peninsular War: A New History (London, 2002), pp. 401–11. 3. The troops employed in the northern campaign consisted of the 1st, 5th, 6th and 7th Divisions of Infantry, the independent brigades of Portuguese infantry commanded by Denis Pack and Henry Bradford, and the cavalry brigades of Ponsonby, Bock and Anson. Of these formations, the bulk were used to watch the French forces holding the line of the River Ebro, the only troops actually employed at Burgos consisting of the 1st and 6th Divisions and Pack’s Portuguese. Commanded by General Henry Campbell and nick- named ‘the Gentlemen’s Sons’, it was the first of these units that throughout bore the brunt of the action, the reason for this being, at least accord- ing to gossip in the army, that the 1st Division had been little employed at Salamanca. But there remains something of a mystery here. Posted to watch Wellington’s communications with Portugal, the 6th Division was already north of the Sierra de Guadarrama, and in consequence was a natu- ral choice for the campaign, but, for the rest, why choose the 7th Division, which was by the weakest and most unreliable formation in the Anglo- Portuguese army, and two Portuguese brigades, one of which had been routed at Salamanca, over the tried and tested Light and Third Divisions, both of which not only had an excellent record on the battlefield, but also much experience of siege warfare? Here the only plausible explanation is that the Third, Fourth and Light Divisions had all been badly hit in the fighting that had preceded the fall of Madrid, and were currently not just seriously under strength, but expecting the return of large numbers of con- valescents from the base hospitals that had been established at Elvas and Ciudad Rodrigo. Also possible is the fact that Wellington expected the main clash of the campaign to take place not on the northern front, but rather somewhere in La Mancha, in which case it might have made sense to keep back the units concerned, the Second, Third and Light Divisions all having distinguished records in the preceding campaigns. See Oman, Peninsular War, V, p. 581. Notes 177

4. For an account of the siege of Astorga, see A. García Fuertes, El sitio de Astorga de 1812: una ofénsiva para la victoria (Astorga, 2012). 5. Jones, Autobiography, p. 66. A further motive for attacking Burgos is suggested by Sarrazin, the latter claiming that the castle had become the principal ammunition depot of all the French armies in northern Spain, and that cap- turing it would therefore have paralysed the invaders’ war effort in that part of the country. In so far as the castle was, as we have seen, used to store powder and munitions, this theory cannot be dismissed out of hand, and all the more so as there would have been no need to spirit the contents of the magazines away: it would, of course, have sufficed just to blow them up. Nevertheless, no evidence is known of Wellington thinking in any such terms, whilst it is not clear that he even knew about the presence of so much ammunition, the fact being that, unless or until fresh information comes to hand, we needs must regard the idea as speculation. See Sarrazin, History of the War in Spain and Portugal, p. 298. 6. For all this, see Oman, Peninsular War, VI, pp. 8–12. 7. J.W. Gordon to Duke of York, 30 August 1812, British Library, Additional Manuscripts (hereafter BL. Add. Mss.) 49473, f. 67; copyright: the British Library Board. 8. Cf. Lord Wellington to F. Maitland, 30 August 1812, cit. Gurwood, Dispatches, VI, p. 47; Lord Wellington to Lord Bathurst, 30 August 1812, cit. ibid., p. 49. 9. Lord Wellington to the Conde del Abisbal, 28 August 1812, University of Manchester, Clinton Papers (hereafter UM. CP.), Lot 226, Box G1. 10. See Lord Wellington to F.J. Castaños, 3 September 1812, cit. Gurwood, Dispatches, VI, p. 52. 11. Had he wanted, there is no doubt that Wellington could have marched on Burgos with a siege train that was more than adequate to all eventualities: large numbers of heavy guns had been captured in the French fortress of the Retiro when the Anglo-Portuguese occupied Madrid in August, and, despite the repeated disclaimers made by Wellington in the wake of the siege, it is difficult to believe that sufficient oxen could not have been got together to move, say, a dozen 16-pounders. The only possible conclusions are either that Wellington underestimated Burgos as a fortress or that the northern campaign was undertaken at such short notice that there was not time to get a siege train together in time for the inception of operations, the army therefore having to march with nothing more than Wellington’s own small ‘artillery reserve’. That said, at least some of the blame should probably be shared by his gunners. To quote the standard work on the artillery of the Peninsular army, ‘A ...critical error ...was the composition of the artillery train. Although [Lieutenant Colonel Hoylett] Framingham was still the Com- mander, Royal Artillery, [Lieutenant Colonel William] Robe was designated the commander of the artillery of the pursuit force and [Lieutenant Colonel Alexander] Dickson was in charge of the reserve. All three officers would have had a hand in the decision-making process and there is no evidence that their hands were tied in the matter by the commander-in-chief’s decree.’ See N. Lipscombe, Wellington’s Guns: The Untold Story of Wellington and his Artillery in the Peninsula and Waterloo (Oxford, 2013), p. 249. Underpinning this issue was an issue that dogged the British army throughout the Penin- sular War. In brief, relations between Wellington and his gunners were at 178 Notes

best cool and frequently very poor, while the former did not like anyone questioning his dispositions too closely or even asking for greater clarifica- tion. At this distance one can only speculate, but it is not difficult to imagine Framingham, Robe and Dickson opting for the easiest option open to them rather than raising difficulties concerning a contingency that might not even come to pass. 12. See Oman, Peninsular War, V, p. 362. Oman is particularly scathing about the howitzers, which he erroneously throughout refers to as 24-pounders (although 24 pounds was indeed the weight of the projectiles, in the British service howitzers were classified by their calibre), saying that they were use- less for battering work. So they were, of course, but that was never their purpose; see ibid., VI, p. 25. The precise weapon at issue was probably the so- called ‘heavy’ or ‘royal’ five-and-a-half inch howitzer: dating back to 1780; this could fire ball, shell or canister and had an effective range of about 1,000 yards. Meanwhile, the 18-pounders were probably a weapon intro- duced by the artillery reformer, Thomas Blomefield, in 1796; significantly lighter than the 24 pounder guns that were the normal option for siege work, they were much used in the Peninsula on account of their superior mobility. See A. Dawson, P. Dawson and S. Summerfield, Napoleonic Artillery (Ramsbury, 2007), pp. 104–5, 170. 13. Jones, Journal, I, p. 292. Officers in the Royal Engineers were specialists in the art of fortification and siege warfare. The Royal Military Artificers, however, should not be thought of as sappers but rather as highly trained craftsmen, it being their job to carry out such tasks as repairing gun carriages and fashion- ing the wooden platforms on which heavy guns were usually placed when in battery. At Burgos, however, such was the shortage of engineering personnel that they had to be pressed into service in the trenches as foremen. In this capacity, however, they apparently showed great courage. Though only one of them – a Corporal Devlin – was killed, all eight became casualties, while the efforts of two of them in particular survived to become part of the annals of the Royal Sappers and Miners: ‘Private Patrick Burke ...was remarked for his usefulness and resolution in the explosion of a mine, and Private Andrew Alexander for his valour in leading the workmen to crown the crater of a mine on the enemy’s glacis before the breach.’ See T. Connolly, The History of the Corps of Royal Sappers and Miners (London, 1855), I, p. 187. 14. Wellington’s confidence in his ability to take Burgos without too much difficulty may have been boosted by the surrender without resistance of the citadel that the French had constructed to hold down Madrid on the site of what is today the Parque del Retiro. Nor, meanwhile, was it just the fact that the garrison had shown a complete want of spirit. To quote the Quartermaster General, Sir James Gordon, ‘I have closely examined the whole work, which is very extensive, and quite sufficient against Spanish troops or the mob of Madrid, but perfectly defenceless when attacked with skill and courage. I cannot think that the French commander could by any exertion have held out three days, and I cannot even guess at a plausible rea- son why a garrison was left in it.’ See J.W. Gordon to Duke of York, 16 August 1812, BL. Add. Mss. 49473, f. 55; copyright: The British Library Board. 15. Lord Wellington to H. Popham, 11 August 1812, cit. Gurwood, Dispatches, VI, pp. 19–20. Notes 179

16. W. Napier, History of the War in the Peninsula and the South of France (London, 1828–1840), V, pp. 261–2. A word of explanation may be necessary here. The troops mentioned as being under the command of General Clinton con- sisted of the Sixth Division. Left behind to hold Valladolid when Wellington marched on Madrid, this force had fallen back southwards as soon as Clausel had advanced to relieve his beleaguered garrisons. As for the troops com- manded by General Foy, these consisted of the relief force that was actually dispatched to Astorga, Zamora and Toro, Clausel having halted with the main body of the Army of Portugal at Valladolid. What Napier is propos- ing, meanwhile, is that Wellington should either have marched directly on Valladolid or, more daringly, that he should have headed for Burgos so as to cut Clausel’s communications, whereas in reality he headed to Arévalo to pick up Clinton, and only then turned back towards Valladolid, by which time Foy had managed to rejoin Clausel, the result being that the Army of Portugal was left with a clear line of retreat to Burgos. Wellington, then, had certainly played it safe – it has to be said that Napier’s suggestions would have been by no means devoid of risk – but he was also going to be sorry afterwards. As for the three French garrisons that had provoked Clausel’s counter-offensive, those of Zamora and Toro were brought off from the midst of their assailants, whereas that of Astorga surrendered to the Spaniards just two days before Foy appeared before its walls. 17. Ibid., p. 262. 18. See J.W. Gordon to H. Clinton, 24 August 1812, UM. CP. Lot 26, Box G3. 19. One point to note here is that in a letter to his uncle written on 13 Septem- ber, John Fremantle, a lieutenant in the 2nd Regiment of Footguards who was currently serving on Wellington’s staff, expressed considerable relief that the attack did not go in, remarking that ‘their hill in our front was a damned ugly one’. Perhaps, then, Clausel’s position was more redoubtable than is usually represented. See J. Fremantle to W. Fremantle, 13 September 1812, cit. Glover, Wellington’s Voice, p. 124. 20. J.W. Gordon to Duke of York, 8 September 1812, BL. Add. Mss. 49473, f. 69; copyright: The British Library Board. The question here, of course, is why the Fifth Division was directed to use a ford which its artillery could not cross, or, perhaps, why the guns were not directed to use a better road. 21. Cit. Thompson, Ensign in the Peninsular War, p. 19. Pringle, it should be noted, had only taken over command of the Fifth Division the day before, its commander at the start of the campaign, Richard Hulse, having fallen sick with a severe attack of fever from which he died on 7 September, and was all too clearly out of his depth in his new role, one officer who served on his staff noting that he was ‘a man liked by all the world in private life, and respected by no-one in public’; cit. Divall, Wellington’s Worst Scrape,p.28. Meanwhile, Hulse had himself been a stand-in for Sir James Leith, who had been severely wounded at Salamanca. It is, then, all too easy to imagine that the senior echelons of the Fifth Division were in a state of some disorder. As for the Quartermaster General’s department – the organ responsible for the transcription and dispatch of Wellington’s orders – this was, as we have seen, currently in the hands of James Gordon, an officer who was notori- ously incapable, but had been foisted upon Wellington by the Duke of York 180 Notes

in place of the infinitely preferable George Murray. See Oman, Peninsular War, VI, pp. 224–6. 22. Wellington to F.J. Castaños, 7 September 1812, cit. Gurwood, Dispatches, VI, p. 54. 23. As if this was not bad enough, the French retreat was not even especially precipitate. As Gordon reported to the Duke of York: ‘At daybreak on the sev- enth, the army advanced by San Cristóbal and Cisterniga (which the enemy had evacuated in the night) and entered Valladolid. The enemy skirmished with our light troops in the town and in the streets leading to the bridge, where, finding themselves pressed, they blew up the centre arch, and, after some sharp firing from the other side, and with a howitzer they brought down, they abandoned their bank of the river and joined their army posted upon the heights immediately over the river.’ See J.W. Gordon to Duke of York, 8 September 1812, BL. Add. Mss. 49473, f. 70; copyright: The British Library Board. 24. Fullom, Life of Sir Howard Douglas, p. 206. 25. Cit. Fletcher, For King and Country, p. 220. 26. For Wellington’s stay in Valladolid, see M.A. García García, 1812: Wellington en Valladolid (Valladolid, 2012), pp. 136–40. 27. Daniel, Journal of an Officer in the Commissariat Department of the Army, p. 164. The bridges across the Pisuerga being necessary for the advance of the Spaniards, who were marching on Valladolid from the west, there is a certain degree of circumstantial evidence to support this theory. 28. McGrigor, Autobiography (London, 1861), p. 303. 29. Until comparatively recently, this was, indeed, the opinion of the current author. Thus: ‘The Sixth Army was slow to appear and even then came for- ward with less than half of its disposable strength. In consequence, having first rescued his two surviving garrisons, Clausel was allowed to evacuate Valladolid and fall back on the Ebro without a fight.’ See Esdaile, Peninsular War, p. 410. 30. See Wellington to F.J. Castaños, 7 September 1812, cit. Gurwood, Dispatches, VI, p. 54; Wellington to F.J. Castaños, 9 September 1812, cit. ibid., p. 65. 31. See Wellington to F.J. Castaños, 3 September 1812, cit. ibid., VI, pp. 52–3. 32. Buckley, Napoleonic-War Journal of Captain Thomas Henry Browne, pp. 184–5. 33. A. Gordon to Lord Aberdeen, 7 September 1812, cit. Muir, At Wellington’s Right Hand, p. 318. 34. J.W. Gordon to Duke of York, 14 September 1812, BL. Add. Mss. 49473, ff. 76–7; copyright: The British Library Board. 35. T. Sydenham to H. Wellesley, 12 September 1812, cit. Wellington, Supplemen- tary Despatches, VII, pp. 419–23. 36. Lord Wellington to Lord Bathurst, 25 August 1812, Gurwood, Dispatches,VI, pp. 42–4. What makes this document all the more extraordinary is that it refers to the very army that three weeks later Wellington was so desperate to have with him at Valladolid. 37. For Wellington’s views on Maitland, see Lord Wellington to Lord Liverpool, 21 September 1812, University of Southampton, MS61, Wellington Papers, 1/351; quoted courtesy of the University of Southampton. The same letter may also be consulted in Gurwood, Dispatches, VI, p. 80, but in this version it is heavily censored. For the record, the original reads as follows: ‘You will Notes 181

see that I have got General Maitland at Alicante. I understand that he is confoundedly afraid of the French and thinks as all our officers do that he will some day or other be swept from the face of the earth. I have, however, given him positive instructions, and he will have nothing to do but fight in a good position if he should be attacked, and receive his provisions from the sea.’ With respect to Ballesteros, meanwhile, see C.J. Esdaile, Outpost of Empire: the French Occupation of Andalucía, 1810–1812 (Norman, OK, 2012), pp. 355–95 passim. 38. See Lord Wellington to H. Wellesley, 9 September 1812, Gurwood, Dispatches, VI, pp. 66–7. 39. For the assurances referred to here, see Lord Wellington to Sir R. Hill, 2 Octo- ber 1812, ibid., p. 100; Lord Wellington to Lord Bathurst, 5 October 1812, ibid., pp. 106–7. 40. That Wellington had no faith in the Spanish armies at this time, there can be no doubt whatsoever. For example: ‘The worst of our situation is that the Spaniards can do nothing by themselves. We must have British troops everywhere, and I am afraid that I must be wherever a serious operation is to be carried on.’ See Lord Wellington to Lord Bathurst, 21 September 1812, Gurwood, Dispatches, VI, p. 86. 41. Cit. Cassels, Peninsular Portrait, p. 74; Bingham, meanwhile, is still more scathing: ‘Such a set of scarecrows I never set on! Complete jail birds! The officers [are] in appearance little better than the men: no discipline amongst them.’ See G. Bingham to E. Bingham, 21 September 1812, cit. Glover, Wellington’s Lieutenant, Napoleon’s Gaoler, p. 150. 42. There is a slight mystery here: whilst Wellington certainly embarked on the campaign with 29,000 men, when the Allied forces reached Burgos Sir James Gordon claimed that numbers were down to just 11,659 British and 8,397 Portuguese. In short, assuming the figures are correct, in the space of just three weeks some 9,000 men had been lost through sickness and straggling. Such is the discrepancy that it is difficult to believe that something is not awry, but, even if losses incurred in this fashion had been one half or one third of the figures quoted, one can well imagine that Wellington feared a general action. See J.W. Gordon to Duke of York, 20 September 1812, BL. Add. Mss. 49473, f. 79; copyright: The British Library Board. 43. One can accept that the French army’s state of mind was something about which Wellington might feel that he had to be cautious, but it was, at least, clear enough that Clausel was badly outnumbered. Thus, when the French withdrew from the vicinity of Valladolid on 8 September, the road which they followed afforded Wellington and his staff every opportunity of observ- ing their numbers at some leisure, Sir James Gordon, for example, reporting to the Duke of York that he personally counted some 12,000 infantry and 2,000 cavalry; see J.W. Gordon to Duke of York, 8 September 1812, BL. Add. Mss. 49473, ff. 70–1; copyright: The British Library. Even if one accepts that there were other troops which such observers could not see, it is therefore difficult to believe that Wellington could have thought himself to be even close to outmatched. 44. Napier, in particular, is fulsome in his praise of what he called ‘the series of beautiful movements executed by Clausel’. Thus, ‘Each day he offered battle, but on ground which Wellington was unwilling to assail in front ...By flank 182 Notes

movements he [i.e. Wellington] dislodged the enemy, yet each day dark- ness fell ere they were completed, and the morning’s sun always saw Clausel again in position.’ See Napier, War in the Peninsula and the South of France,V, pp. 260–1. Here, however, he rather overdoes his tendency to admire French feats of arms: as Oman says, ‘To abscond on the first approach of the enemy’s infantry may be a safe and sound policy, but it is hardly brilliant or artistic’. See Oman, Peninsular War, VI, p. 18. For Gordon’s description of Clausel’s position at Hornillos del Camino, meanwhile, see J.W. Gordon to Duke of York, 20 September 1812, BL. Add. Mss. 49473, f. 78; copyright: The British Library Board. 45. Anon., Personal Narrative of a Private Soldier, pp. 137–8. 46. Tomkinson, Diary of a Cavalry Officer in the Peninsular and Waterloo Cam- paigns, p. 203. 47. Daniel, Journal of an Officer of the Commissariat Department, p. 165. 48. A. Gordon to Lord Aberdeen, 21 September 1812, cit. Muir, At Wellington’s Right Hand, p. 320. 49. Napier, War in the Peninsula, V, p. 260. 50. Douglas, Douglas’ Tale of the Peninsula and Waterloo, p. 53. 51. S. Petty, ‘In such perfect order? Wellington’s military machine, 1813’; unpublished conference paper delivered at the Fifth Wellington Congress, University of Southampton, 5–7 April 2013. 52. Oman, Peninsular War, VI, pp. 17–20. 53. Lord Wellington to C. Dumouriez, 12 September 1812, Wellington, Dis- patches, VI, p. 71.. 54. Fletcher, For King and Country, p. 223. Interestingly enough, one of the self- same staff officers who were always ‘snug in houses’ was writing home in a very different vein. Thus, ‘My military news is very little. I think I wrote last from the Escorial. We have since driven the remains of Marmont’s army through Valladolid, and are now within ten leagues of Burgos which we shall presently take.’ Cit. Carr-Gomm, Letters and Journals, p. 286. 55. G. Bowles to Lord Fitzharris, 13 September 1812, cit. Malmesbury, Series of Letters, II, pp. 313–15. The claim that the Spaniards had been ordered to march on Clausel’s rear, presumably by striking due east along the flanks of the Cantabrian mountains, has no basis in reality. However, the passage is of value not only because it testifies to the growing discontent in Wellington’s army, but also because it is a good example of the way in which the campaign intensified anti-Spanish feeling amongst his British troops. 56. Cit. Mockler-Ferryman, Life of a Regimental Officer in the Great War, 1793– 1815, p. 214. 57. A. Gordon to C. Gordon, 3 October 1812, cit. Muir, At Wellington’s Right Hand, p. 325. 58. A. Gordon to Lord Aberdeen, 5 October 1812, cit. ibid., p. 327. 59. The most recent biographer of the Duke of Wellington is more honest. Thus, ‘Wellington left ...behind some of his best troops ...evidently wishing to rest them so that they would be fresh for the decisive battle against Soult, A much more serious and inexplicable mistake was Wellington’s failure to bring forward a siege train ...Evidently he did not set off with the inten- tion of capturing Burgos as his primary objective, but it was obvious that it might form part of the campaign ...No mistake in Wellington’s entire Notes 183

military career was as wilful or as inexcusable.’ See R. Muir, Wellington: The Path to Victory, 1769–1814 (London, 2013), p. 484.

5 The Siege

1. See Glover, Wellington’s Lieutenant, Napoleon’s Gaoler, p. 150. 2. Cit. Glover, Eyewitness to the Peninsular War, p. 101; Glover, Letters of Captain John Lucie Blackman, p. 37. 3. Cit. Fletcher, ForKingandCountry, p. 225. 4. Cit. Thompson, Ensign in the Peninsular War, p. 201. Such impressions can- not but beg a major question. If the strength of the defences was so obvious even to lowly lieutenants, why did Wellington not immediately send to either Madrid or Santander, which had recently fallen into the hands of the Allies and become the base of the enterprising British naval comman- der, Sir Home Popham, for the guns that might have brought the siege to a speedy conclusion? They could not have arrived in less than two weeks, and, indeed, might have taken longer, but there is little doubt that they would have been in place by mid-October. Thus, when Wellington finally caved in after his 18-pounders were shot to pieces beneath the walls of the fortress and sent to Popham for the help he so clearly needed, the latter managed to get two 24-pounder guns on the road by 9 October, the con- voy having managed to cover approximately half the distance before news reached it that the siege was being abandoned and it should turn back. Given that Wellington also turned down an offer to send heavy guns that reached him from Madrid earlier in the siege, it is difficult not to conclude that part of the problem was simple pride: in brief, Wellington could not publicly admit to undertaking any enterprise without the means to do so. For some leading comments on all this, see Oman, Peninsular War, VI, p. 40. What makes the issue all the more perplexing is that in private the British commander was prepared to admit that he was in trouble. As he wrote to General Maitland on 20 September, ‘We invested this place yesterday and took by storm last night the hornwork ...I doubt, however, that I have the means to take the castle, which is very strong’; see Lord Wellington to T. Maitland, 20 September 1812, cit. Gurwood, Dispatches, VI, p. 80. Yet, if so, why continue the siege in the first place? 5. Belmas, Journaux des sieges, IV, pp. 507–8. 6. Oman, Peninsular War, VI, p. 23. 7. For all this, see J.B. de Courcelles, Histoire génealogique et héraldique des pairs de France, des grands dignitaires de la couronne, des principales familles nobles du royaume et des maisons princières de la Europe (Paris, 1826), VI, p. 290. What makes the matter all the stranger is that Dubreton does not appear to have been a diehard Bonapartist: although he went on to fight very well at Leipzig and Hanau in 1813, he did not choose to rejoin Napoleon in 1815, but instead stayed loyal to Louis XVIII. 8. The brunt of this fighting was borne by the light companies of the 42nd and the 79th. The unfortunate Lieutenant Grant appears to have met his fate when he was cut off at the head of a small party of men and forced to take shelter under cover of an embankment where they maintained 184 Notes

themselves stoutly until relieved by friendly troops, Grant even being reputed to have armed himself with the musket of a wounded soldier. See R. Jameson, Historical Record of the Seventy-Ninth Regiment of Foot or Cameron Highlanders (Edinburgh, 1863), pp. 34–5. Meanwhile, the occupation of the city had been accompanied by considerable disorder. Thus: ‘The Allies entered Burgos amidst great confusion, for the garrison of the castle had set fire to some houses impeding the defence of the fortress [and] the con- flagration spread widely, [while] the partidas, who were already gathered like wolves round a carcass, entered the town for mischief. Mr Sydenham, an eyewitness and not unused to scenes of war, thus describes their pro- ceedings, “What with the flames and the plundering of the guerrillas, who are as bad as tartars and Cossacks of the Kischak or Zagatay hordes, I was afraid Burgos would be entirely destroyed.”’See Napier, War in the Peninsula, V, p. 261. For a Spanish account of this affair, meanwhile, see J. Múñoz Maldonado, Historia política y militar de la Guerra de la Independencia de España contra Napoleón Bonaparte (Madrid, 1833), III, pp. 307–8. 9. Daniel, Journal, p. 166. 10. R.W. Southey, History of the Peninsular War (London, 1823–1832), III, p. 551. 11. Part of the 1st Division, Stirling’s brigade consisted of the second battalion of the 24th Foot, the first battalion of the 42nd Foot, the second battalion of the 58th Foot, the first battalion of the 79th Foot and one company of the Fifth Battalion of the 60th Foot (a light-infantry formation uniformed in dark green and equipped entirely with rifles rather than muskets). Along- side it fought the brigades of Thomas Fermor (first battalion, 2nd Foot Guards; first battalion, 3rd Foot Guards; one company, fifth battalion, 60th Foot), and Sigismund Low (First, Second and Fifth Line Battalions, King’s German Legion). The Sixth Division, meanwhile, consisted of the brigades of Bingham (first battalion, 11th Foot; 2nd battalion, 53rd Foot; first battalion, 61st Foot; one company, fifth battalion, 60th Foot); Hinde (first battalion, 2nd Foot; first battalion, 32nd Foot; first battalion, 36th Foot; one company, fifth battalion, 60th Foot); and Rezende (Eighth Portuguese Line; Twelfth Portuguese Line; Ninth Caçadores). Finally, Pack’s brigade consisted of the First Portuguese Line, the 16th Portuguese Line and the Fourth Caçadores. For all this, see C. Oman, Wellington’s Army (London, 1913), pp. 343–73 passim. In addition, at least some battalions from other units seem to have been rotated through the trenches. Thus, although the third battalion of the 1st Foot was part of the Fifth Division and as such well out of harm’s way watching the French forces in Alava, between 26 Septem- ber and 16 October its returns show it as having lost 22 dead before the walls of the fortress; see Third Battalion, 1st Regiment of Foot, paylists, 25 September–24 December 1812, National Archives, War Office Papers (hereafter NA. WO.), 12/2012. However, there is some mystery here, for the battalion’s only diarist, John Douglas, makes no mention of any such service. Yet it was not just one company, say, that went, for the casualties are scattered across all ten of the unit’s companies . 12. ‘Instructions for the attack of the hornwork’, cit. Wellington, Supplemen- tary Despatches, XIV, p. 120. One oddity about this document is that the storming parties were in both cases directed to attack the inner face of the bastions. This seems to have been done to spare them from the fire Notes 185

of the Batterie Napoléon, but the result must necessarily have been to sub- ject them to much heavier close-range fire than would otherwise have been the case. 13. Anon., Personal Narrative of a Private Soldier, pp. 141–2. 14. Roy, ‘Memoirs of Private James Gunn’, p. 105. 15. Ibid., p. 106. 16. Jones, Journals, II, p. 31. 17. Reid, ‘On assaults’, p. 11. 18. The lyrics of this song – ‘The Ballad of Jamie Foyers [sic]’ – may be found at http://digital.nls.uk/broadsides/broadside.cfm/id/20866 (accessed 23 January 2011); lest it be thought that the story it retails is mere invention, the first name on the list of the rank and file lost by the 42nd on the night of 19 September is Sergeant James Foyer (given the rank accorded Foyer, it is particularly interesting that the song should describe him as ‘a brave halberdier’). For the record, the 42nd other rank-and-file dead included Corporal David Adams and Privates Donald Beaton, Alexander Coghill, William Crowther, Allan Cruikshank, William Dallas, Edward David, John Geddes, George Gordon, John Gorrie, William Henderson, George Ingrain, Thomas Johnston, John Macarthur, Charles McCallan, Farquashaw McGilloroy, Donald McGrigon, Donald McIntosh, Alexander Mackay, Angus Mackay, John McEachan, John Mcleod, Angus McNicol, Donald McPhadden, Robert Munro, Samuel Murray, William Powell, John Stewart, Alexander Wilson and Dedington Woodcock; see First Battalion, 42nd Regiment of Foot, Battalion Quarterly Pay List, 25 June 1812–1824, December 1812, NA. WO.12/5490. Meanwhile, two officers – Lieutenants Dugald Gregorson and Peter Milne – were killed and another five officers and 164 rank and file wounded. Of the five officers wounded, three were certainly Major Archibald Menzies, Captain William McKenzie and Ensign John Lane; cf. ‘Officers of the Forty-Second Foot who served in the Peninsular War, 1808–1814’, accessed at http://www .blackwatch.50megs.com/officers1808.htm, 24 January 2010, together with corroborative details in J. Hall, The Biographical Dictionary of British Offi- cers Killed and Wounded, 1808–1814 (London, 1998), and Lionel Challis’ ‘Peninsular-War Roll-Call’. A British officer who served in the First World War, Challis devoted his life to creating a card index of every British officer who served in the Peninsular campaigns. Now digitalised, this may be accessed at http://www.napoleon-series.org/research/biographies/ GreatBritain/Challis/c_ChallisIntro.html. 19. Cit. Tomkinson, Diary of a Cavalry Officer, pp. 206–7. Tomkinson is wrong in suggesting that Cocks had only been ordered to conduct a feint attack: the instructions referred to above make it quite clear that he was to do all he could to enter the hornwork. In all probability the idea sprang up out of a desire to emphasise Cocks’ energy and initiative. Cocks, meanwhile, was characteristically warm in the praise of his men. To quote the order of the day he issued to the united light companies the next day, ‘Major Cocks can- not pass over the events of yesterday and last night without returning his most hearty thanks to the officers, non-commissioned officers and privates of Colonel Stirling’s brigade. To praise valour which was so conspicuous is as unnecessary as to distinguish merit which was so universally displayed 186 Notes

is impossible, but Major Cocks must say it never was his lot to see, much less his good fortune to command, troops who displayed more zeal, more discipline or more steady intrepidity.’ Cit. Jameson., Historical Record of the Seventy-Ninth Regiment of Foot, pp. 36–7. 20. Jameson, Historical Record of the Seventy-Ninth Regiment of Foot, pp. 35–6. According to a footnote to this account, Sergeant McKenzie had for some reason asked Cocks for the loan of his sword earlier in the fight, and made use of it to good effect before being overwhelmed, Cocks taking much pleasure in boasting of the state in which it was returned to him after- wards. More significant, perhaps, is the reference, first, to Bogle’s colour, and, second, the fact that he died from a bayonet thrust: in the Napoleonic Wars occasions when men actually came to blows with one another in this fashion were extremely rare. 21. For a detailed account of this attack, see Oman, Peninsular War, VI, pp. 26–8. The French casualties are those given by Dubreton. Another British fatal- ity was Major Charles Pierrepoint, the Quartermaster General (i.e. chief of staff) of the 1st Division. He is commemorated by a memorial stone in the churchyard of the church of Saint John the Evangelist at Perlethorpe near Newark. The inscription reads: ‘Sacred be this spot to the memory of Charles Alphonso Pierrepoint, a major in the British service who lost his life so gallantly while storming an outwork near Burgo [sic]. Of an ancient and respectable family on whom by his conduct he conferred honour, he was interred on the field where he fought and fell, September 19th 1812.’ See http://southwellchurches.nottingham.ac.uk/perlethorpe/xfurther.php, accessed 14 February 2011. 22. J.W. Gordon to Duke of York, 20 September 1812, BL. Add. Mss. 49473, f. 79; copyright: The British Library Board. 23. Cit. Thompson, Ensign in the Peninsular War, p. 200. Menzies – in full, Cap- tain Archibald Menzies – recovered from his ordeal, only to receive no fewer than 16 wounds at the battle of Quatre Bras on 16 June 1815; see Hall, Bio- graphical Dictionary, p. 403. Other observers, meanwhile, were more critical. To quote a letter which William Bragge wrote to his father on 25 September: ‘Our troops succeeded in taking an outwork of the castle the first evening, but not without considerable loss on our part in consequence of Lord Wellington having employed a division not used to the noble science of storming. Had the Light or Third Division been there, we should not have lost above fifty men, but as it was the troops advanced to the glacis and there stood to be shot at without endeavouring to gain the fort ...Ibelieve the army would regret their loss more had they not foolishly complained to Lord Wellington after the 22nd July [i.e. the battle of Salamanca] of not having “justice done them”’. Cit. Cassels, Peninsular Portrait,p.74. 24. Nevill, Some Recollections, pp. 22–3. Nevill appears to have been an extremely brave young man: still two weeks short of his 18th birth- day, he had been severely wounded in the head and leg while assisting Walker’s brigade to take the bastion of San Vicente during the storm of Badajoz. 25. Perhaps unsurprisingly, the defenders’ perception of the events of 20 September was less optimistic than these remarks might lead the reader to expect. ‘Our artillery,’ complained Belmas, ‘fired all day and all night Notes 187

on the hornwork, but it could not beat down the palisade that closed the gorge, and so the enemy were allowed to go on using it for shelter. Mean- while, one of the sixteen-pounder guns in the Napoleon Battery fractured and injured some of the gunners.’ See Belmas, Journaux des sièges, IV, p. 474. 26. Jones, Journal, I, p. 294. The exact breakdown is as follows: 900 24-pound roundshot; 208 24-pound common shells; 236 24-pound spherical-case (i.e. shrapnel) shells; 1,306 18-pound roundshot. With respect to the hornwork, shell fragments found in the ditch reflect the heavy (and accurate) fire to which the position was subjected from the Batterie Napoléon after its cap- ture. In a letter to Lord Grey of 27 September, indeed, Sir James Gordon explicitly suggests that it was fear of this fire that deterred Wellington from making any use of his guns at this stage. Thus: ‘We have not as yet opened any material fire upon the castle, as the guns we now have in battery are not sufficient to silence those who are opposed to them, and until we can find some means of directing their attention to another quarter of the place we must remain quiet.’ See J.W. Gordon to Lord Grey, 27 September 1812, Durham University Library, Earl Grey Papers (hereafter DUL. EGP.), GRE/B19/128; I owe my knowledge of this letter to my good friend and colleague, Rory Muir. 27. That the bombardment was not even part of Wellington’s plan is made clear by Nevill, who, as we have seen, explicitly states that the battery in the hornwork was intended only to suppress the fire of the Batterie Napoléon. 28. N.L. Beamish, History of the King’s German Legion (London, 1832–1837), II, p. 100. 29. Cit. Fletcher, For King and Country, p. 229. The officers referred to are Ensign Charles Hall of the 3rd Foot Guards and Captain Charles Mackenzie-Fraser of the 2nd Foot Guards. Like many of the men who fought with Laurie, Mackenzie-Fraser showed great courage: initially struck by a spent ball that penetrated his cocked hat and fractured his skull and was only prevented from doing worse damage by a silk handkerchief he had wound around his head turban-style to keep his hat in place, he fought on until a sec- ond bullet hit his right knee and finally lodged in his calf (for the use of this information I am indebted to National Trust Scotland and the staff of Mackenzie-Fraser’s ancestral home, Castle Fraser, especially Elinor Vickers). Meanwhile, the reference to the Scots and Germans ‘filing off to the right’ is a key piece of evidence that corroborates the version of events given by William Reid. Belmas, by contrast, implies that the troops concerned made for the sunken road not to take shelter, but rather to make use of it as an improvised fire trench from which to keep the defenders’ heads down, but, while some of the troops concerned undoubtedly kept up some sort of fire on the defenders, the idea that the move was a planned one is difficult to sustain. See Belmas, Journaux des sièges, IV, p. 475. 30. Reid, ‘On assaults’, pp. 15–16. Dubreton, certainly, gives the impression of a fierce fight. ‘The enemy ...assaulted the walls with resolution ...Some of the attackers reached the parapet, but they were thrown off, and the rest put to flight by our musketry and the fire of two howitzers which we dragged out into the ditch.’ See ‘Rapport du Général Dubreton’, cit. Belmas, Journaux des sièges, IV, p. 532. 31. Reid, ‘On assaults’, p. 16. 188 Notes

32. Daniel, Journal, pp. 168–9. Already slightly wounded in the storm of the hornwork, Williamson died of his wounds on 2 October without hearing that a few days before the Prince Regent had on Wellington’s personal rec- ommendation given him the brevet of major; sadly, his only brother had been killed earlier in the year in the siege of Ciudad Rodrigo; see Hall, Biographical Dictionary, p. 600. 33. Cit. Glover, Wellington’s Lieutenant, Napoleon’s Gaoler, p. 152. Though hor- ribly disfigured and blinded in one eye, the unfortunate Stewart eventually recovered and in 1814 was awarded a pension of £200 per annum; see Hall, Biographical Dictionary, p. 534. 34. Lord Wellington to Lord Liverpool, 23 November 1812, cit. Gurwood, Dispatches, VI, pp. 174–5. 35. Jones, Journal, I, p. 307. 36. The chronicler of the King’s German Legion, North Beamish, claims that such men of the firing party as remained in action (see below) pressed forward and joined the assault, presumably because they realised that, sit- uated as they were, they could achieve almost nothing. See Beamish, King’s German Legion, II, p. 100. 37. Such at least was the opinion of George Bingham, a brigade commander in the Sixth Division. See Glover, Wellington’s Lieutenant, Napoleon’s Gaoler, p. 152. 38. This account of the attack of 22 September is taken from the version given by William Reid; see Reid, ‘On assaults’, pp. 14–16. It is highly instructive to compare it with that given by Jones. Thus: ‘As it was, the men with the five ladders reached the wall and reared them almost unopposed, but the main body, although the ground was perfectly open, advancing on a front of only four men, had lengthened out so considerably before they reached the point of contention that, on the garrison opening their fire, much confusion was created by the efforts made to close up the ranks, and, in con- sequence, the ...whole pushed forward together into the ditch.’ See Jones, Journal, I, p. 308. Curiously, Robert Cooke, an official of the Paymaster Gen- eral’s department attached to Wellington’s headquarters claims that the chief culprits in the attack were the Guards: ‘[The Forty-Second] got in, but were obliged to retreat with the loss of 400 men owing to the Guards not (they say) exerting themselves. They [i.e. the Guards] will soon find campaigning here is a little different to strutting up and down Pall Mall.’ Cit. Glover, At Wellington’s Headquarters, p. 29. This, of course, may just be so much gossip, but there is no doubt that Wellington and his entourage placed much of the blame on the behaviour of the troops. To quote Sir James Gordon, for example, ‘Our men showed no stomach for it [i.e. the assault], as the wall is low and the ladders reached over it.’ It is, then, curi- ous that in the very same letter we should find the following: ‘The spirit of the whole army is excellent, and their just confidence in their leader enables them to sustain difficulties which would at once sink them under any other man.’ See J.W. Gordon to Lord Grey, 27 September 1812, DUL. EGP. GRE/B19/128; I owe my knowledge of this letter to Rory Muir. 39. Cit. Thompson, Ensign in the Peninsular War, pp. 201–2. A further problem was that no one knew who should take command once Laurie had fallen; see Beamish, King’s German Legion, II, p. 101. Notes 189

40. Jones, Autobiography,p.68. 41. Cit. J. Fremantle to W. Fremantle, 27 September 1812, cit. Glover, Wellington’s Voice, pp. 126–7. For some scathing remarks on the perfor- mance of the Portuguese in the assault on the hornwork, see Fletcher, For King and Country, p. 228. In many British accounts of the Peninsular War, the Portuguese have received much praise and are described as having come to equal Wellington’s British infantry. However, at least some eyewit- ness accounts call this into question. Here, for example, is William Bragge’s impressions of the Portuguese component of the Fifth Division in January 1812 ‘The English, all in new clothes and good appointments, were fol- lowed by the Portuguese, [who were] dressed in the raggedest of all possible ragged clothes, in addition to which they were much lower in stature and appeared to be thinking of the approaching danger.’ Cit. Cassels, Peninsular Portrait,p.29. 42. See ‘Rapport du Général Dubreton’, cit. Belmas, Journaux des sieges,IV. p. 532. 43. Lord Wellington to W. Beresford, 5 October 1812, cit. Gurwood, Dispatches, VI, p. 105. According to Jones, when he reported to the British comman- der at his headquarters in Villatoro in the immediate aftermath of the attack and ‘fairly stated that the Portuguese troops had not been zealous or forward’, Wellington ‘broke out violently against them, saying he had stretched every point to give them character, but that in the next dispatch he would bring them down to their proper level’. In the event, he did nothing of the sort, Jones inferring that ‘policy [had] induced His Lord- ship to suppress his genuine feelings’. What makes this incident all the more remarkable is that, arriving at Villatoro at perhaps four o’clock in the morning, Jones was apparently able to penetrate as far as the very door of Wellington’s bedroom without being challenged by a single sentry or staff officer! See Jones, Autobiography,p.69. 44. See J.H. Cooke, ‘The personal narrative of Captain Cooke of the 43rd Reg- iment, Light Infantry’ in Anon. (ed.), Memoirs of the Late War (London, 1837), I, p. 213. 45. McGrigor, Autobiography, pp. 307–8. McGrigor claims that Mackenzie-Fraser had just had his leg amputated, but in this he appears to have been mis- taken; according to Mackenzie-Fraser himself, the operation was rather carried out at Salamanca. 46. The men too ill to be moved were left in the charge of a surgeon attached to the 24th Foot named James Elkington; threatened with being sent to France as a prisoner of war after his charges were taken over by the French, the latter made a daring escape on horseback to Santander where he was given succour by Sir Home Popham. See Elkington, ‘Some episodes in the life of James Goodall Elkington’, pp. 93–5. 47. Anon., Personal Narrative of a Private Soldier, pp. 144–5. 48. Roy, ‘Memoirs of Private James Gunn’, p. 106. 49. Cit. J. Fremantle to W. Fremantle, 27 September 1812, cit. Glover, Wellington’s Voice, pp. 126–7. Already mentioned on a number of occa- sions, Mackenzie-Fraser eventually suffered the amputation of his right leg, and was invalided out of the army to live out the rest of his life at Castle Fraser near Aberdeen. Today the property of the National Trust, the house 190 Notes

contains a small display of his effects that includes the two bullets which struck him, the cocked hat he was wearing during the assault, the notebook in which he recorded his experiences, and the fully articulated wooden leg which was made for him on his return home, and, in addition, an impos- ing portrait (for this last, cf. http://www.bbc.co.uk/arts/yourpaintings/ paintings/charles-mackenzie-fraser-mp-196243, accessed 6 August 2014). As for the use of the area at the foot of the wall as a burial ground, this was verified by the discovery in 2008 of six partial skeletons in the course of archaeological excavations necessitated by restoration work on the mediae- val wall. One of the men concerned, a soldier of the 58th Foot, was felled by a bullet to the left-hand side of his head that penetrated from one side of his skull to the other but failed to make any exit; see A.I. Ortega Martínez and M. Bores Ureta, ‘Intervención arqueológica en la C/Las Murallas, Burgos’ (Burgos, 2008). Given the nature of the wound, it is at least possible that the fatal shot was fired from a small turret that projected from the wall perhaps 100 feet to the left of the spot chosen for the first breach, and is mentioned as having been the source of many casualties. 50. Napier, War in the Peninsula, V, p. 267. 51. Jones, Journal, I, p. 299. It is sometimes claimed in Spanish accounts of the siege that the decision to site Wellington’s guns on the Cerro de San Miguel, and, later, in the suburb of San Pedro, was taken at the request of the town council, the latter being anxious to avoid the city itself becoming a target for French counter-battery fire. Though such requests may indeed have been made, however, it is unlikely that they were acceded to for this reason: such is the terrain that in reality the fortress could only be assaulted from north and the west. See Sánchez-Moreno, Castillo y fortificaciones de Burgos, p. 21. 52. Unable to fire on the troops in the trenches below the wall, the French pulled back their guns into the main part of the fortress: this, however, was a blessing in disguise as it meant that no guns were lost to enemy fire when the besiegers finally turned their guns on the area. See ‘Rapport du Général Dubreton’, cit. Belmas, Journaux des sièges, IV, p. 534. 53. Oman, Peninsular War, VI, pp. 31–2. 54. Jones, Journal, I, p. 292. 55. Green, Vicissitudes of a Soldier’s Life, p. 114. 56. Cit. Cassels, Peninsular Portrait, p. 77. A few of the luckier troops were given quarters in the town. However, if drier than many of their com- rades, they were also in greater danger. As Henry Ross-Lewin of the 32nd Foot remembered, ‘The city of Burgos ...lies close under the castle, but, notwithstanding this rather undesirable proximity to the formidable object of contention, the citizens remained in their houses, and the market was open as usual. To get to this repository of the necessities of life, we had to cross a particular street which was commanded by the castle, and whenever we appeared in it musketry was fired at us, so that we generally traversed it at our best pace.’ See Ross-Lewin, With the Thirty-Second in the Penin- sula, p. 198. Even in their billets, the troops found their safety was at best extremely limited. ‘At Burgos’, wrote Captain Charles Dansey of Gardiner’s battery of the Royal Artillery, ‘we were quite in luxury. Our brigade [i.e. battery] ...being employed to fire at the works from a part of the town, Notes 191

we got into snug quarters ...We had an elegant house: the inhabitants had abandoned it because it was haunted, but the visitors which occasionally intruded through the doors and windows, being only musket balls and splinters of shells (intimate acquaintances of ours), we allowed ...always to have their way without even taking the usual steps to drive away ghosts, namely by speaking to them.’ Cit. Glover, Letters of Second Captain Charles Dansey, p. 54. The suggestion in this note that field artillery played a part in the bombardment is very interesting: Gardiner’s battery was equipped with nine-pounders and these might have been of some effect in damaging the mediaeval wall; however, given that no attempt was made to breach the walls from the direction of the city, it can only be assumed that they were employed to keep the heads of the defenders down with canister or spherical case. 57. Glover, Eyewitness, p. 91. 58. Anon., Personal Narrative of a Private Soldier, p. 148. 59. Jones, Journal, I, p. 311. Another version of events has the parapet lined with large tea-chest like boxes filled with earth; see Anon., Personal Narra- tive of a Private Soldier, p. 152. This is the position mentioned in respect of footnote 49. 60. Cit. Thompson, Ensign in the Peninsular War, p. 203. 61. Cit. Countess of Strafford (ed.), Personal Reminiscences of the Duke of Wellington by Francis, the First Earl of Ellesmere (London, 1903), p. 154; for the ball that hit the 42nd, see Anon., Personal Narrative of a Private Soldier, p. 149. 62. Cit. Glover, Letters of Second Captain Dansey, p. 53. Dansey was evidently possessed of a considerable sense of humour. Later lectured on his foolish- ness in exposing himself to the fire of the enemy by his sister, Sibyl, he replied, ‘I have received your most interesting epistle from which I gather the agreeable intelligence that you were all wondrous glad to hear of my being almost beat to a mussing, aye, pounded almost as if I was going to be beat into sausage meat ...You may depend upon it [that] I will most strictly adhere to your prudent injunctions against leaning against the merlon of a battery ...If ever again it should be my good fortune or bad fortune or no fortune or misfortune or what fortune you choose to serve at another siege, I will quietly lay myself down in an embrasure where you may rely upon it [that] I shall remain perfectly still during the whole siege.’ Cit. ibid., p. 63. Given that the battery to which Dansey was attached was sta- tioned in the city rather than the heights of San Miguel, his presence in the hornwork is probably explained by his having been dispatched to help with the siege guns. 63. Roy, ‘Memoirs of James Gunn’, p. 106. 64. Jones, Journal, I, p. 313. There is some suggestion that Wellington’s artillery officers were not as proactive as they might have been here. Thus: ‘At this point it must have been abundantly apparent that the structure at Burgos was not going to succumb. About ten per cent of the howitzer ammu- nition had been employed in trying to knock down the palisades at a range of about 350 yards; if they were unsuccessful in dislodging wooden stakes at such short range, it was evident ...that against stone and masonry they would be virtually futile. This should not have come as a surprise to 192 Notes

men like Dickson and Robe, yet there is no evidence that they expressed any such sentiment to Wellington; instead Dickson’s notes highlight a pre-occupation with duty rosters and relief procedures.’ See Lipscombe, Wellington’s Guns, p. 250. Once again, then, the want of confidence between Wellington and his gunners can be seen to have undermined the conduct of the campaign. 65. Ibid., p. 321. 66. J.W. Gordon to Lord Grey, 30 September–2 October 1812, DUL. EGP. GRE/B19/127; I owe my knowledge of this letter to Rory Muir. 67. Jones, Journal, I, p. 323. 68. Napier, War in the Peninsula, V, p. 271. 69. Cit. Fletcher, ForKingandCountry, p. 237. 70. Cit. Thompson, Ensign in the Peninsular War, p. 200. 71. Glover, Eyewitness, p. 91. Stanhope’s opinion in respect of the morale of the army is confirmed by James McGrigor. Thus: ‘After daily losses of num- bers of men ...discontent was not silent even among the officers ...for they saw that, without means, particularly in artillery, they were knock- ing their heads against stone walls without the least prospect of making any impression on them.’ See McGrigor, Autobiography, p. 304. 72. Jones, Journal, I, p. 324. 73. If digging operations went well on this occasion, this does not mean that there was general cause for satisfaction. On the contrary, the very next day Wellington issued a general order in which he suggested that the working parties employed in the trenches had not been doing their duty, and directed Burgoyne to report to him each morning in respect of their behaviour. See General Order, 1 October 1812, cit. Wellington, Supplementary Despatches, VII, p. 436. 74. The heavy losses among the engineering personnel may reflect a certain aspect of the corps’ culture that can be seen as a reaction to a situation in which its every member knew that it was inadequately resourced and yet certain to be held responsible for every failure before the walls of a fortress. To quote John Blakiston of the Third Caçadores, ‘[The] zeal and gallantry [of the officers of that corps] is amply proved by the severe loss in all the sieges in which they were engaged. Indeed, their bravery was chivalric, and led them, I think unnecessarily and contrary to the custom of other armies, to place themselves among the foremost of the forlorn hope at the assault of the breach. To such a degree did they carry their devotion in this respect that the service suffered material injury by the prac- tice.’ See J. Blakiston, Twelve Years’ Military Adventure in Three Quarters of the Globe, or Memoirs of an Officer who served in the Armies of His Majesty and the East India Company between the Years 1802 and 1814 in which are contained the Campaigns of the Duke of Wellington in India and his Last in Spain and the South of France (London, 1829), II, p. 274. Another ‘assistant engineer’ who was certainly wounded, meanwhile, was Lieutenant William Rea of the Third Battalion of the 1st Foot, although the point in the siege when he was incapacitated is not known. See R. Foster, ‘Notes on Wellington’s Peninsular Regiments: Third Battalion, First Regiment of Foot (Royal Scots)’, accessed at http://www.napoleon-series.org/military/organization/Britain/ Infantry/WellingtonsRegiments/c_1stFoot.html, 22 September 1812; L.S. Notes 193

Challis, ‘Peninsular Roll Call’, accessed at http://www.napoleon-series.org/ research/biographies/GreatBritain/Challis/c_ChallisIntro.html, 22 Septem- ber 2012. 75. Cit. Fletcher, ForKingandCountry,p. 237. 76. Napier, War in the Peninsula, V, p. 272. 77. Jones, Journal, I, pp. 326–7. 78. J. Gordon to Lord Grey, 30 September–2 October 1812, DUL. EGP. GRE/B19/127; I owe my knowledge of this letter to Rory Muir. 79. A. Gordon to Lord Aberdeen, 3 October 1812, cit. Muir, At Wellington’s Right Hand, p. 325. Interestingly, the Guards were the only troops excepted from Wellington’s repeated complaints at the conduct of the troops under his command. However, ever the aristocrat, Wellington seems to have viewed the Guards with a degree of partiality that was much felt by the rest of the army. Here, for example, is James Gunn: ‘We marched on for Burgos, where [the French], it was said, had 500 men. Be that as it may, our division arrived there composed of a brigade of Germans and a brigade of Guards or Wellington’s pets, who always got the name whether they deserved it or not. And should any of them hear of this or see it, let him ...ask of me, and I will tell him more of it.‘ See Roy, ‘Memoirs of Private James Gunn’, p. 105. 80. For the travails involved in rescuing the guns and shifting them to their new positions, see Jones, Journal, I, p. 330. Witness is borne to the difficulty of moving on the slopes of the Cerro de San Miguel and the Cerro de la Blanca in wet weather by the experiences of the author and his colleagues in the course of field surveys carried out in September 2009: the clay of which much of the ground consists offering at best a treacherous footing, falls proved a constant hazard. Meanwhile, full details of the story of what went on on the night of 3 October may be derived from the General Order issued by an outraged Wellington the next day. In brief, it appears of the three working parties assigned to the task – one from an unspecified regiment of the Guards, one from the Fourth Regiment of Caçadores and one from the Fifth Regiment of Caçadores – the two groups of Portuguese soldiers never showed their faces. The result was a ferocious onslaught that cost the men concerned dearly: the officers in charge of the detachments – two ensigns named Antonio de Gouvia Cabral and Jose Carasco Guerra – were arrested, while the rank and file were sentenced, first, to spending six hours of each of the next four days working in the trenches, and, second, to spending the rest of those same four days fully accoutred and under arms, the effect of this being to deny them rest, shelter and leisure alike. See General Order, 3 October 1812, cit. Wellington, Supplementary Despatches, VII, pp. 437–8. 81. For the plan of the assault, see ‘Memorandum for Lieut. Col. Burgoyne, R.E.’, cit. Gurwood, Dispatches, VI, pp. 103–4. 82. Note, however, that matters were still not especially well managed: in a letter written the next day the commander of the brigade in which the 24th was serving complained that the unit was given orders for the assault without his knowledge, and that he himself received no word from Wellington ‘till just about a half hour before the mine was sprung’. See Glover, Wellington’s Lieutenant, Napoleon’s Gaoler, p. 155. 194 Notes

83. Cit. Liddell Hart, The Letters of Private Wheeler, p. 97. Sydney Gardens was a noted public park in the spa town of Bath; opened in 1795, they may still be visited today. 84. Cit. Fletcher, For King and Country, p. 238. The ‘pile of shot’ referred to here constitute one of the minor mysteries of the siege. Such evidence as we have suggests that, as the words imply, it was literally a large pile of cannon balls, this probably having formed part of a depot of spare ammunition that had been amassed at Burgos for onward distribution to other parts of Spain. For alternative accounts of the assault, see Reid, ‘On assaults’, pp. 16–17, and J.W. Gordon to Duke of York, 5 October 1812, BN. Add. Mss. 49473, f. 88. 85. Lord Wellington to H. Popham, 5 October 1812, cit. Gurwood, Dispatches, VI, p. 105. 86. Jones, Journal, I, pp. 334–5; W. Porter, History of the Corps of Royal Engineers (London, 1889), I, p. 325. For a detailed account, see Jones, Autobiogra- phy, pp. 71–2. In brief, it had been agreed that, having ensured that all was ready to fire the contents of the mine, Jones would scramble out of the trench and make for a prominent threshing floor in its rear, the ‘cir- cle of white masonry’ which it presented seeming to offer a guarantee that the lieutenant colonel would be highly visible from Wellington’s command post on the Cerro de San Miguel. Unfortunately, however, the plan miscar- ried: the ground concerned being completely overlooked by the defences, it was never properly investigated, and, when Jones duly climbed out of the trench, he discovered to his astonishment that, whilst the threshing floor seemed very close to the parallel when viewed from above, in reality it was quite some distance away. Anxious not to waste time, Jones rather resolved to give the signal from where he was standing, only to find that his efforts produced not the slightest movement from the 24th, and that despite the fact, not only that Wellington had a clear view of his position, but also that Jones saw officer after officer clearly attempt to direct his attention to his efforts. Conceiving that he should perhaps, after all, have given the signal from the proper position, Jones then ran to the threshing floor and gave the signal again. Whilst all this was going on, the defenders had been maintaining a heavy fire, and at length a ball struck him in the ankle and knocked him to the ground. Still subject to a hail of bullets, the unfortu- nate officer then managed to crawl back to the trench and roll over its lip to safety, only to be confronted by an emissary from headquarters demand- ing to know whether all was indeed ready. In terrible pain though he was – the ball had completely smashed his ankle and driven the shattered bones deep into the flesh and muscles that surrounded them – Jones then fired the mine, and, as he put it, ‘after a few seconds had the happiness to see the wall rise up, fall over and form an admirable breach’. If all this is true, for all that Jones insists that the British commander subsequently showed him great kindness in the long period of hospitalisation that followed, the story is clearly one that is not very creditable to Wellington: not only is the latter revealed as being extremely intolerant of the slightest deviation from prior arrangements, but one is left with the impression that he was angry with Jones for having been so inconvenient as to get himself shot! Meanwhile, it should be noted that the forlorn hope, as was traditional, continued to be made up from volunteers recruited from a number of units. Notes 195

Thus, the ‘Fraser’ mentioned in the text was actually 20-year-old Lieutenant John Fraser of the 53rd Foot. The commander of a ladder party, he partic- ularly distinguished himself, being remembered as one of the first men to climb the wall; seemingly having made a good recovery from the wound that he suffered at Burgos, he returned to his unit and was badly wounded in the Battle of the Pyrenees. See Hall, Biographical Dictionary, p. 216. 87. Jones, Journal, I, p. 335. According to Gordon, the 24th were spared the heavy losses that might have been expected, by virtue of the facts, first, that the French guns in the second line were unable to fire on the breaches themselves, and, second, that the British guns on the Cerro de San Miguel were able to keep down their fire. 88. Cit. Glover, Wellington’s Lieutenant, Napoleon’s Gaoler, p. 155. 89. Anon., Narrative of a Private Soldier, p. 151. 90. J.W. Gordon to Duke of York, 5 October 1812, BL. Add. Mss. 49473, f. 88. 91. Cit. Thompson, Ensign in the Peninsular War, pp. 205–6. For an alternative account, we can cite John Daniel: ‘The enemy made a very spirited assault this afternoon from the castle with a large force, and at the point of a bay- onet drove our troops out of the works they had taken on the preceding day, forcing them back into their own trenches. The French then gave three cheers, and the castle batteries ceased firing. Lord Wellington was soon seen gallopping [sic] across the plain from Villatoro. The pause (which lasted only a few minutes) was then interrupted by a loud British huzza, and we could perceive our men returning to the assault. The tremendous and destructive fire from the castle batteries again opened, and a desper- ate struggle ensued. Before dark, however, our brave fellows had retaken the works, and forced back the enemy into the castle.’ See Daniel, Journal, pp. 169–70. 92. Nevill, Some Recollections, p. 24. Nevill appears to be mistaken in his recol- lections here: the 79th lost no sergeant either in the fight in which Cocks lost his life or, indeed, in any other engagement during the siege. 93. Ibid. Nevill almost certainly understates the number of assistant engineers, other accounts insisting that the number who volunteered for such posi- tions was ten rather than six; on the other hand, he neglects to mention that Lieutenant Pitt had suffered a broken arm during the attack on the hornwork and was therefore likely also to have been hors de combat. From this document, meanwhile, it may be deduced that the Lieutenant Rea mentioned above was wounded quite late on in the fighting. 94. Lord Wellington to R. Hill, 5 October 1812, cit. Gurwood, Dispatches,VI, p. 104; Lord Wellington to Beresford, 5 October, 1812, ibid., p. 105. 95. Interestingly, Sarrazin claims that the success of the French sorties was in part occasioned by shortcomings on the part of Wellington’s engineers. Thus, ‘The French, seeing themselves so closely pressed, redoubled their exertions. They made several sorties to destroy the works of the allies, and frequently proved successful, because there had been no parallels con- structed with redoubts sufficiently well placed to prevent a sally of the besieged from their works.’ See Sarrazin, History of the War in Spain and Portugal, p. 290. 96. Cit. Fletcher, For King and Country, p. 241. So frantic were the French to level the British defences that they did not bother to check whether they still 196 Notes

contained any troops. Guessing that their chances of surviving were better if they stayed put than if they tried to run for it, a number of men chose to let themselves be buried alive. Some, doubtless, suffocated, but others appear to have contrived to have scraped air-holes for themselves and then to have lain quiet until the end of the action. Hit twice by a French pick, however, one such man jumped to his feet and made a dash for safety, the French being so surprised by the sudden apparition that he got away. 97. Cit. ibid., p. 240. 98. Tomkinson, Diary of a Cavalry Officer, pp. 209–10. For the sake of its internal logic, the order of this quote has been slightly altered; there is, however, no change in the sense. Meanwhile, those wishing to explore Cocks further can do no better than to refer to Page, Intelligence Officer in the Peninsula. Cocks’ heroism should not be allowed to obscure the fact that the bulk of the fighting was done by the King’s German Legion, and, more particularly, the much-tried Second Line Battalion: this lost 47 dead, including a captain named Von Saffe, and another 65 wounded, whilst the chief role in rallying the shaken Allies was played by a Lieutenant Beuermann and a sergeant named Ludwig Floerke. See Beamish, King’s German Legion, p. 106. 99. The effect of the constant rain cannot be overestimated. As John Daniel wrote in his diary on 12 October, ‘This evening the weather being very cold and wet, we struck our tents, and obtained leave to occupy a room over a blacksmith’s shop, having been under canvas every night since the 11th of September. For the last three weeks scarcely a night had passed without rain, and, as we had no beds, our situation was rendered very uncomfortable, yet thousands were faring much worse, enduring greater privations without even a tent to shelter them, and having much harder duty to perform.’ See Daniel, Journal, p. 170. 100. Cit. Oman, Peninsular War, VI, p. 41. 101. Lord Wellington to W. Beresford, 9 October 1812, cit. Gurwood, Dispatches, VI, p. 111. 102. Cit. Fletcher, Guards Officer in the Peninsula, p. 37. 103. Cit. Fletcher, ForKingandCountry,p. 240. 104. G. Bowles to Lord Fizharris, 11 October 1812, cit. Malmesbury, Letters of the First Earl of Malmesbury, II, p. 316. 105. ‘Rapport du Général Dubreton’, cit. Belmas, Journaux des sièges, IV, p. 546. 106. Ibid. 107. The Times, 27 October 1812. 108. See Thompson, An Ensign in the Peninsular War, p. 207. 109. Traces of the latter trench survive to this day; from the firing positions at the head of the sap to the summit of the breach the distance is perhaps 75 yards. At the breach, meanwhile, so heavy was the Allied fire that the French gave up trying to block it with a fresh parapet, and instead opened a series of fresh embrasures in the ramparts behind it so as to enable them to sweep the terre plein with canister; see ‘Rapport du Général Dubreton’, cit. Belmas, Journaux des sieges, IV, p. 546. 110. According to Jones, by 30 September alone almost 1,500 cannon balls and unexploded shells had been brought in; see Jones, Journal, I, p. 324. At least some officers were scornful of the great pains the troops took in respect of their scavenging,. To quote Mills, for example, ‘The men are fools enough to Notes 197

stand in a place where the shots come over ...watching where they fall, run- ning the risk of being shot for sixpence’; cit. Fletcher, For King and Country, p. 232. Such remarks, however, are unworthy of their authors, who might have done better to ponder the miserable pay and deficient rations that led common soldiers to risk their lives in the hope of earning a few pen- nies. For a detailed discussion of conditions in the Peninsular army, and the informal norms that governed the scenes written of so disparagingly by the comparatively well-fed Mills, see E. Coss, All for the King’s Shilling: the British Officer under Wellington, 1808–1814 (Norman, Oklahoma, 2010). 111. Jones, Journal, I, pp. 343–44. 112. Ibid. 113. T. Sydenham to H. Wellesley, 16 October 1812, cit. Wellington, Supplemen- tary Despatches, VII, p. 458. It is worth noting that this is only the second mention that we have of deserters from the garrison in the course of the siege: evidently, morale in the garrison was higher than might have been expected. 114. For the powder charge in the outer bailey, see Jones, Journals, p. 352; Fletcher, For King and Country, p. 243. Of all the incidents that took place in the course of the siege, this is the one that is by far the hardest to inter- pret, matters not being helped by the fact that Jones deals with it in the most cursory of fashions. The explanation put forward here does not appear implausible, but it is possible that the mine, which was clearly a very impro- vised affair, was not connected with the main course of the siege at all, but rather a local initiative pursued at regimental level only. If so, the decision to blow it was singularly mistimed. 115. Cit. Stanhope, Eyewitness, p. 92. 116. Jones, Journal, I, pp. 352–3. 117. The Walpole and Crofton referred to were the second son of the Earl of Orford, the Honourable Lieutenant John Walpole, and Lieutenant William Crofton, both of the 2nd Regiment of Foot Guards. Both were severely wounded in the course of the night, while Crofton had the misfortune to be killed in the French sortie at Bayonne on 14 April 1814 that was the very last action of Wellington’s Peninsular army; meanwhile, ‘Burgess’ was Ensign Wentworth Burgess of the same regiment; see Hall, Biographical Dictionary, pp. 87, 150, 583. Walpole, it seems, had a particularly narrow escape. A ball from a round of canister shattered his arm, and then went on to hit him in the side. Fortunately, however, he happened to have in his pocket a novel written by the celebrated French seventeenth-century proto-feminist, Anne de l’Enclos, and this deflected the ball which would otherwise have almost certainly killed him. What Walpole’s choice of reading – de l’Enclos was a noted courtesan whose novels were spicy in the extreme – says about the preoccupations of the officers of Wellington’s army is a matter best left for another time. See Fletcher, King and Country, p. 244. 118. Cit. Fletcher, For King and Country, p. 243. The officer whose death Mills describes was Ensign Wentworth Burgess. 119. Cit. Glover, Eyewitness, p. 92. As Mills’ account shows, Stanhope is mistaken here: though he clearly saw Burgess fall, the latter was not killed straight- off, but rather badly wounded. 120. Daniel, Journal, p. 172. 198 Notes

121. Ibid. 122. Ibid. See also Reid, ‘On assaults’, pp. 17–18. 123. Beamish, King’s German Legion, II, pp. 108–9. In a further example of the many alternative sources of evidence available to those wishing to recon- struct the siege, Bacmeister’s will has been located in the National Archives. Shattered by a ball, his right arm was amputated, and he was evacuated in a convoy of wounded that was seemingly dispatched to Ciudad Rodrigo. Sadly, however, gangrene must have set in, for Bacmeister did not last the journey, perishing at Peñaranda de Bracamonte on or about 2 November 1812. The first line of his will, which is part of a hasty codicil written on the road after he was told he was dying, is as grim as it is eloquent: ‘Death comes as a succour.’ See National Archives, Probate Papers, 11/1580. 124. Napier, War in the Peninsula and the South of France, V, p. 278; Oman claims that the dead were restricted to three Spaniards and eight Portuguese; see Oman, Peninsular War, VI, p. 47. This figure seems extraordinarily low, however, and Dubreton is probably in the right when he talks of numer- ous casualties; see ‘Rapport du Général Dubreton’, cit. Belmas, Journaux des sièges, IV, p. 548. It should be noted, meanwhile, that this was the only occasion on which any Spanish troops were engaged in the siege: disgrace- fully enough, however, certain Spanish writers have made the extraordinary claim not only that Spanish troops – in this case those commanded by the local partisan commander, Jerónimo Merino – took part in the attack on the hornwork, but that it was they who actually took it from the French; see J.M. Codón Fernández, Biografía y crónica del Cura Merino (Burgos, 1986), pp. 36–7. 125. John, Earl Russell, Recollections and Suggestions, 1813–1873 (London, 1875), pp. 12–13. The urbanity demonstrated by Wellington on this occasion may not have been unconnected by the fact that Russell was closely linked with several Whig grandees, including both Lord Holland and Lord Grey. Extraordinarily enough, Russell and his companions were not the only British tourists to make it to Burgos. Thus, in a letter to his sister writ- ten a few weeks later, Russell remarks, ‘We were riding out of Burgos to see the position when we met Lord Waldegrave in a very smart pair of pantaloons and dressed out ...to go to dinner.’ See J. Russell to G. Russell, Cádiz, 19 December 1812, cit. R. Russell (ed.), Early Correspondence of Lord John Russell, 1805–1840 (London, 1913), p. 169. 126. McGrigor, Autobiography, pp. 304–5. Whilst the brigadier concerned was beyond doubt Thomas Fermor, who was the son of the Earl of Pomfret, who the engineer officer concerned was is unclear, and all the more so as the date of this anecdote is unknown: the only Royal-Engineer captain present at Burgos was John Williams, but he was killed very early in the siege, so it seems likely that McGrigor’s memory was playing tricks with him in some way. A very interesting feature of the story, meanwhile, is the marked difference in the treatment accorded the general and the engi- neer officer, Wellington being well known for the preference which he was inclined to show towards the aristocracy. 127. Ross-Lewin, With the Thirty-Second, p. 201. Notwithstanding the success- ful evacuation of the siege lines, the retreat was accompanied by further misfortune or incompetence: thus, mines were laid to slight the hornwork, Notes 199

but, though fired, they failed to explode; see Napier, War in the Peninsula, V, p. 293. At the same time, whilst things may have been relatively quiet when the fighting troops filed out of their positions, when the baggage had taken to the road in the course of the afternoon, the scene had been very different. ‘In our road to the high road,’ wrote Daniel, ‘we passed near an angle of the castle ...The French flag was flying on the castle, and the garri- son fired a kind of feudejoie, no doubt wishing us a safe return to Portugal.’ See Daniel, Journal, p. 173. Indeed, according to at least one account, the evacuation was marked by considerable confusion. Thus: ‘Having mounted my horse, I made my way to Villa Toro ...As the narrow road (which from the late rains was rendered heavy) ...lay out of the range of the shot of the castle, the spare artillery and hospital wagons, commissariat mules and baggage of the army proceeded by it. The throng presently became so great that the cargos of the mules were overturned, and, in proportion to the opposition, [so] did the desire of pushing forward increase. Everything was at a stand and in disorder. In one place were two or three sick soldiers bolstered up by their comrades’ knapsacks lying on a bullock car, and sur- rounded by some less sick companions; in another bags of biscuit trodden underfoot and casks of rum stove in; here an artillery wagon had sunk axle-tree high in mud, the leading horses of which, having exhausted their strength to pull it out, were lying prostrate and panting in the road, so that it was with much difficulty I could proceed.’ See Burroughs, Narrative, pp. 2–3. 128. Casualty figures in the course of the siege seem to have been as follows. French: 303 dead, 323 wounded; Anglo-Portuguese 68 officers and 485 rank and file killed, 68 officers and 1,445 men wounded; 42 rank and file missing; Spanish unknown, but almost certainly fewer than 50 all told.; see Oman, Peninsular War, VI, p. 741. To the Anglo-Portuguese wounded should be added several hundred sick, for, by the time that the siege was raised, the hospital that McGrigor had established at Valladolid was giving shelter to well over 2,000 men. See McGrigor, Autobiography, p. 309. 129. E. Buckham, Personal Narrative of Adventures in the Peninsula during the War in 1812–1813 (London, 1827), p. 74. 130. For all this, see C.J. Esdaile, The Duke of Wellington and the Command of the Spanish Army, 1808–1814 (Houndmills, 1990), pp. 79–84. 131. It is worth pointing out here, as noted above, the Portuguese troops were almost entirely unpaid at this time, and that the miserable weather con- ditions were particularly hard for them to bear. As one soldier of King’s German Legion wrote of the retreat that followed, ‘We found many groups of Portuguese, five to ten men closely pressed together, wrapped up in their blankets lying in the road. They could not or would not go further, as much as we urged them to and even used force, since the Portuguese are by nature a lazy and feeble people not in a condition to tolerate exertions as we are: they like best to lie on their backs and let the sun shine on their bodies.’ See Bogle and Uffindell, A Waterloo Hero,p.93. 132. Lord Wellington to Lord Bathurst, 26 October 1812, cit. Gurwood, Dis- patches, VI, p. 133. This admission, however, did not prevent Wellington from reviving the charge that he had been let down by his men under a different heading. As he wrote to Lord Liverpool on 23 November, ‘The 200 Notes

fault of which I was guilty in the expedition to Burgos was not that I under- took the operation with inadequate means, but that I took there the most inexperienced instead of the best troops.’ Cit. ibid., p. 174. 133. Nevill, Some Recollections, p. 25. All this said, it is worth noting a very inter- esting story that appears in Fullom’s biography of Sir Howard Douglas. Thus, according to the account which Fullom put together from Douglas’s personal papers, on the evening of 19 September, sometimes under heavy fire, Douglas conducted a private reconnaissance of the defences and came to the conclusion that the best front from which to attack them was not the north but rather the east, and that from this it followed that the best plan was to take the projecting south-eastern angle of the defences and from there drive a mine under the walls of the castle itself, his grounds for this idea being that attacking from the north meant having to breach no fewer than three lines of ramparts, whereas doing so from the east meant having to breach only one. This plan he communicated privately to the comman- der of Wellington’s artillery, Colonel Robe, and the latter seems then to have mentioned his doubts to the British commander, for the latter tackled Douglas about them the next day. The conversation that followed was a brief one, however. After a short exchange in which Douglas made it very clear that he believed that the plan of attack that had been adopted was too ambitious for the means available, Wellington asked him to outline his own views, but these proceeded to fall on deaf ears. Thus: ‘Lord Wellington made no remark. Possibly he saw the defects of his own plan, but it had been deliberately adopted, and he was not convinced that it ought to be abandoned.’ Unabashed, Douglas seemingly continued to press his ideas behind the scenes, but, according to his own account, it became clear to him that the artillerymen and engineers were adamant in their insistence on the besiegers fighting their way in from the north. In consequence, he eventually resolved to keep his own counsel and take no further part in dis- cussions. Within a few days a dispatch arrived summoning him to return to London immediately, and he therefore did not witness the end of the siege, but much later, or so his biographer claimed, an officer on Wellington’s staff told him that, when the British commander had ordered the siege to be abandoned, he had exclaimed, ‘Douglas was right: he was the only man who told me the truth.’ See Fullom, Life of Sir Howard Douglas, pp. 211–17. How much truth there is in any of this it is difficult to say, but the idea of attacking the eastern face of the castle is by no means wholly vision- ary: not only was there only a single line of ramparts to contend with, but the hillside falls away so steeply that it is probable that few French guns could have been brought to bear on the assailants. To breach the walls, of course, it would have been necessary to have recourse to mining, but that was forced on the attackers even as it was. Just possibly, then, Douglas was right, in which case Wellington’s engineers were more at fault than at first appears. 134. Such, at least, was the opinion of the commander of Wellington’s horse artillery, Sir Augustus Frazer: ‘With respect to the Burgos failure, the want of will to employ sufficient artillery, with the amplest power of having done so, and the selection, contrary to repeated suggestions, of ineligible pieces for breaching appear to have been the principal causes of want of Notes 201

success. Rest assured there has been no want of skill or zeal in either of the corps to whom sieges must be confided, and the true error is acknowl- edged in its fullest extent.’ See A. Frazer to E. Frazer, 19 December 1812, cit. E. Sabine (ed.), Letters of Colonel Sir Augustus Frazer, K.C.B., commanding the Royal Horse Artillery in the Army under the Duke of Wellington written during the Peninsular and Waterloo Campaigns (London, 1859). Another gunner officer, meanwhile, made the same point: ‘To return to the immediate causes that obliged our retreat, at the head of them ...I must censure, though unwill- ingly, the conduct of Lord Wellington. Though frequently warned that the means were totally inadequate to success ...he would not, after once sitting down before it, raise the siege till ...[Souham] had arrived with a superior force in his front.’ See F. Whinyates (ed.), Diary of Campaigns in the Peninsula for the Years 1811, 12 and 13 written by Lieutenant William Swabey, an Officer of E Troop (present E Battery), Royal Horse Artillery (Woolwich, 1895), p. 145. Indeed, in later life, even Wellington concurred with this opinion. As he reportedly said, ‘It was all my own fault. I had got, with small means, into the forts near Salamanca. The castle was not unlike a hill-fort in India and I had got into a good many of those. I could get into this, and I very nearly did it, but it was defended by a very clever fellow.’ Cit. Strafford, Personal Reminiscences of the Duke of Wellington, p. 146. What Wellington would not admit, however, was that he had been at fault in marching on Burgos with so few guns. Thus: ‘In regard to means, there were ample means both at Madrid and at Santander for the siege of the strongest fortress. That which was wanting at both places was [the] means of transporting ordnance and military stores to the place where it was desirable to use them ...Icould not find [the] means of moving even one gun from Madrid.’ See Lord Wellington to Lord Liverpool, 25 November 1812, cit. Gurwood, Dispatches, VI, pp. 174–5. 135. Cit. G. Bowles to Lord Fitzharris, 11 October 1812, cit. Malmesbury, Letters of the First Earl of Malmesbury, II, p. 316. 136. Cit. Thompson, Ensign in the Peninsular War, pp. 208–9. An interest- ing twist on these views is provided by our anonymous private of the 42nd. Thus: ‘The Forty-Second lost upwards of 200 excellent soldiers at this unfortunate siege, for it was Tom-Thumb work to undertake the siege of such place as Burgos with small-arms: you might as well have sent the boys of the grammar school to take the castle of Edinburgh with pop-guns ...There is no doubt but [that] the place [had] to be reduced before the army advanced, but what reason was there in advanc- ing so far into the country at this season of the year, and Burgos an obstacle of the greatest consequence, and [the] army without a batter- ing train of artillery?’ See Anon., Personal Narrative of a Private Soldier, pp. 154–5. 137. Such at least was the opinion of William Reid; see Reid, ‘On assaults’, p. 17. 138. Cit. Thompson, Ensign in the Peninsular War, p. 208. Yet, in the end, even numbers might not have been sufficient. ‘Every military man possessing some experience in his profession’, wrote Richard Henegan, a senior ord- nance commissary, ‘felt, though he would not utter it, that neither British valour, nor yet a general’s name, unaided by the sinews of attack – artillery and ammunition – could triumph over the difficulties afforded by the 202 Notes

fortress of Burgos.’ See R. Henegan, Seven Years’ Campaigning in the Peninsula and the Netherlands from 1808 to 1815 (London, 1846), I, p. 272. 139. The Portuguese army still awaits its historian, while it generated very little in the way of memoirs, diaries or collections of correspondence. However, such feelings were certainly circulating in the Spanish army – for a good example, see J.L. Ossorio Ahumada (ed.), Diario de un oficial en la Guerra de la Independencia: Matías de Lamadrid Manrique de la Vega, 1813 y 1814 (Palencia, 2009), p. 66 – and it is difficult to believe that Portugal’s soldiers were immune to such emotions. 140. J.W. Gordon to Grey, 22 September 1812, DUL. GP. GRE/B19/125. I owe my knowledge of this letter to Rory Muir.

Postscript: 1813 and After

1. Borreguero Beltrán, ‘Asedio y voladura del castillo’, pp. 380–2. 2. Salvá, Burgos, pp. 121–2. 3. Ibid., pp. 179–80. 4. In theory, the commander of the French Army of the North, Louis Caffarelli, wanted to go much further, a dispatch that he sent to the Minister of War talking of a plan to remodel the whole fortress, and, in particular, to make good many of the defects of the original version; see L. Caffarelli to H. Clarke, 23 October 1812, cit. Belmas, Journaux des sièges, IV, pp. 523–4. Yet this was a most literal case of building castles in Spain, the fact being that neither time nor resources allowed for any such project: indeed, even the repair work that was done appears frequently to have been very partial: with regard to the third breach, for example, whilst the fausse-braye was restored to its original state, the upper part of the breach was left untouched: hence its survival until the present day. 5. Cit. E. Hunt, Charging against Napoleon: Diaries and Letters of Three Hussars, 1808–1815 (Barnsley, 2001), p. 93. 6. Fée, Souvenirs, pp. 241–3. The wholesale reconstruction of the castle has oblit- erated all traces of the explosion. However, to return to Fée’s account, there is some suggestion that it was somewhat exaggerated: when the British recon- naissance party mentioned in the text visited the city a few hours after the explosion, it reported finding only seven bodies and further stated that the town did not appear to have been much affected other than the loss of many of the cathedral’s windows. Army gossip, meanwhile, later put the number of French soldiers killed at about 30; see Green, Vicissitudes, p. 155. Rather sil- lier is the story that remained current in Burgos until well into the twentieth century to the effect that the French had blown up the castle so as to bury a large amount of treasure and other effects – most notably, the archives of the josefino administration – that they did not have time to carry away with them; see Sánchez-Moreno, Castillo y fortificaciones de Burgos, pp. 40–3. 7. G. Bell, Rough Notes by an Old Soldier during Fifty Years’ Service from Ensign G.B. to Major General, C.B. (London, 1867), I, p. 82; see also C. Cadell, Narrative of the Campaigns of the Twenty-Eighth Regiment since their Regiment from Egypt in 1802 (London, 1835), p. 153. On picket duty at the time of the blast, another officer claims actually to have witnessed it through his telescope, describing Notes 203

how the castle was ‘suddenly enveloped in thick white smoke’ and rocked by not one but two explosions; see J.M. Sherer, Recollections of the Peninsula (London, 1823), p. 233. 8. A. Frazer to E. Frazer, 14–15 June 2013, cit. Sabine, Letters of Colonel Augustus Simon Frazer, p. 146. 9. Ibid., pp. 145–8. The ‘Don Julián’ referred to in this extract is Julián Sánchez, the commander of a cavalry unit that had originally formed part of the gar- rison of Ciudad Rodrigo, but had broken out when the French besieged the town in 1810, who now headed a small brigade of lancers under the aegis of the Spanish Fourth Army. As for the state of the breach, the archaeological evidence suggests that the fausse-braye was roughly closed off, but the main rampart left unrepaired. 10. See Lord Wellington to T. Calleja, 16 June 1813, AMBu. C1-7-5/6. 11. Lord Wellington to Lord Bathurst, 13 June, 1813, cit. Gurwood, Dispatches, VI, p. 527. 12. Sánchez-Moreno, Castillo y fortificaciones de Burgos, pp. 74–84. 13. Studies of the social and economic history of Burgos in the period after 1814 are distinctly thin on the ground, but for some useful remarks on population, see E. Cibeira Arias ‘La población en la provincia de Burgos, 1700–1850’ in AREAS: revista internacional de ciencias sociales No. 24 (2004), pp. 117–34. For a particularly exaggerated view of the impact of the war, see P. Carasa Soto, ‘Burgos entre 1808 y 1814: ruina de la ilustración y vuelta a la tradición’, in Borreguero Beltrán, Burgos en el camino de la Revolución Francesa, p. 11. Thus: ‘At a time when, animated by a certain vigour which the reformist current of the eighteenth century found among its élites, Burgos was beginning to raise its head, the War of Independence dealt it a fresh blow. Sweeping the city into the very vortex of its destructive embrace on account of the strategic position which it occupied, it disoriented these pre-liberal elites. Originally inclined to view the French presence with favour, they were very quickly obliged to fall back on positions that, while ostensibly patriotic, were in practice reactionary, being dominated by anti-liberal clerics and tradition- alist soldiers. As a result of these harsh dilemmas, a new period of decadence was set in motion that was to last for the whole of the nineteenth century. In short, in Burgos a military experience that in other cities was the seed- corn of liberalism rather acted to impede its inculcation and, still worse, to encourage a return to tradition.’ This, alas, is so much rubbish, not the least of the problems that it raises being the facts, first, that a considerable part of Burgos’ élites remained loyal to the French, and, second, that, whatever may have happened in 1814, the Patriot cause was not dominated by the anti-liberal clerics and traditionalist soldiers that are the object of Carasa Soto’s ire. 14. Ibid., pp. 70–3. 15. Olivier-Copons, Castillo de Burgos, pp. 182–4. 16. Sánchez-Moreno, Castillo y fortificaciones de Burgos, pp. 108–11. Burgos did not completely lose its connection with the military, however. Thus, until the reorganisation of the army in the post-Franco era, it remained the headquarters of a captain-generalcy. 17. See ibid., pp. 11–12. The story of Centeno’s excavations is bizarre in the extreme. In brief, basing his theories on nothing more than the flimsiest of 204 Notes

circumstantial evidence, the general became convinced that the castle had been blown up so as to bury a variety of effects, including the archives of the josefino government and a considerable quantity of what he called cosas de gran valor, which the French had temporarily deposited within its walls but lacked the transport to take any further, the plan being that, Wellington hav- ing been defeated, the rey intruso would return to reclaim his property. This can only be described as one of the silliest ideas ever to have emerged in the whole historiography of the Peninsular War, but in the course of 1925 and 1926 Centeno nevertheless invested considerable time and energy in pursu- ing his theories. In so far as what was actually discovered, the excavations, which were confined to the area occupied by the mediaeval castle, uncovered no more than a few artefacts – there is mention of buckles, musket balls, bullets of a sort used by the Spanish army in the late nineteenth century, various fragments of pottery and several buttons belonging to the French 34th Line – some stretches of stonework, some of which was still blackened by the explosion; two brick columns, which the general interpreted as hav- ing formed part of the portico of the erstwhile royal palace; and the castle’s famous well. This last, which had evidently survived all but intact, fascinated Centeno, and the various tunnels and galleries which led off the spiral stair- case by which it is surrounded greatly increased his hopes that there really was something hidden somewhere under the castle. If such a treasure trove exists, however, nothing of the sort has ever come to light, whilst the archive which in part inspired Centeno’s flight of fancy was actually captured by Wellington at Vitoria. For all this, see L. Centeno, Excavaciones arqueológi- cas en el castillo de Burgos: memoria de los trabajos practicados en 1925 (Burgos, 1926) and L. Centeno, Excavaciones arqueológicas en el castillo de Burgos: memo- ria de los trabajos realizados en el histórico castillo de Burgos durante el año 1926 (Burgos, 1927). 18. For this last, see Ayuntamiento de Burgos, Plan especial del Parque del Castillo. 19. Olivier-Copons, Castillo de Burgos, p. 187.

Appendix 1: The Archaeology

1. For the Vilnius discovery, see M. Signoli et al, Les oubliés de la retraite de Russie: Vilna 1812–Vilnius 2002 (Paris, 2008). 2. For a general introduction to the subject of the archaeology of the Peninsular War, see L. Negro Marco, ‘La arqueología de la Guerra de la Independencia’, in Ministerio de Defensa (ed.), La Guerra de la Independencia: una visión militar (Zaragoza, 2009), II, pp. 267–74. 3. J.C. Castillo Armenteros and J.R. Montilla Torres, ‘Las fortificaciones del cerro de Santa Catalina (Jaén) en el contexto de la Guerra de la Independencia’, in J.A. Armillas Vicente (ed.), La Guerra de la Independencia: studios (Zaragoza, 2001), II, pp. 1027–69. 4. It has also to be said that many of these edifices are in a state of repair that can only be described as being quite shocking: in many instances, indeed, they have been found to be overgrown, falling into ruin and the haunt of vagrants and drug addicts. Notes 205

5. See http://elpais.com/diario/2010/02/07/andalucia/1265498529_850215 .html, accessed 18 September 2013; http://milan2.es/Patrimonio_Isla/Patri_ Reducto-Ingles_22.html, accessed 18 September 2013; http://pavostrotones. blogspot.co.uk/2012/08/punta-del-boqueron-y-sus.html, accessed 18 September 2013. 6. For full details of the work that has been undertaken in respect of the Lines of Torres Vedras, see http://www.linhasdetorresvedras.com, accessed 19 September 2013. 7. See L. Sorando Musas, ‘Enterramientos napoleónicos en el suelo de la iglesia de San Martín en el castillo de la aljafería’, in http://www .asociacionlossitios.com/iglesiasanmartin.htm, accessed 19 September 2013. Sadly, it appears that the bones were never subjected to anything other than the most cursory of studies. 8. See http://mas.diariodemallorca.es/itinerarios-historicos/las-barracas-del-los -prisioneros-napoleonicos/, accessed 19 September 2013. 9. For all this, see A. Ortega Martínez, ‘Intervención arqueológica, 1993–1995’, in Sainz, Castillo de Burgos, pp. 465–508. 10. For the details of the six bodies excavated in the Calle de las Murallas, see Ortega Martínez and Bores Urieta, ‘Intervención arqueológica en la C/Las Murallas’, II, pp. 194–208. The presence of buttons representing the 83rd Foot and the 65th Line is troubling, for neither took part in the siege. At least the 65th Line was present in the region, forming a part, as it did, of Pinoteau’s division of the Army of Portugal, but the only battalion of the 83rd Foot serving in the Peninsula was attached to Picton’s Third Division and had therefore been left behind in Madrid. Were the presence of the but- tons purely coincendental, then? Or had the men concerned been drafted to other units, or, in the case of the soldier of the 65th, left behind in the course of the French retreat from the city at the start of the siege? Or, then again, had both of them made ad hoc use of buttons belonging to other units? We simply do not know. 11. Ibid., I, pp. 9–77 passim. 12. The human remains discovered in passing on the summit of the Cerro de San Miguel provide a sad counterpoint to the chorus of the ‘Ballad of Jamie Foyers’. Thus: ‘Far distant, far distant lies Scotia the brave; no tomb or memo- rial shall hallow his grave; his bones they lie scattered on the rude soil of Spain, for poor Jamie Foyers in battle was slain.’ 13. See http://www.historiayarqueologia.com/group/arqueologaencastillaylen/ forum/topics/la-iglesia-de-san-rom-n-burgos-capital-podr-a-encontrarse -debajo, accessed 2 October 2013.

Appendix 2: The Cartography

1. See Glover, Eyewitness to the Peninsular War, p. 91; for the map itself, see p. 93. 2. A brief note is needed here in respect of the other contemporary plan noted in the text. Located in the National Archives, this bears the name of the erstwhile British liaison officer in Galicia, Sir Howard Douglas, who, as we have seen, rode to join Wellington when he advanced on Valladolid. Very clearly drawn at a scale of one inch to 350 yards, it gives a basic outline of the defences that 206 Notes

appears to be reasonably accurate, and, unlike both the Jones and Stanhope maps, is orientated in the normal fashion with north at the top; still more interestingly, meanwhile, its portrayal of the hornwork foreshadows that of Barrière and his derivatives (see below). Superimposed on the topography, meanwhile, is a somewhat simplified version of Jones’ portrayal of the British trenches. Of all the plans that we have of the siege, this is, perhaps, the most intriguing. Not shown or mentioned in Fullom’s Life of Sir Howard Douglas,it appears to date from 1815, and it is therefore probable that the siege works were lifted straight from Jones. However, the resemblance is far from exact, and it may be that the plan was actually drawn up in the course of the siege: after all, as a supernumerary, Douglas must have had plenty of time on his hands. But was his work wholly original? In so far as this is concerned, if it does not mention the plan itself, Fullom’s text does contain a significant detail in that it claims that when Douglas arrived at Burgos he already possessed ‘an old plan of the castle’; Fullom, Life of Sir Howard Douglas, p. 208. However, one suspects that this last was not ‘old’ at all, but rather a plan drawn up since 1808 by some unknown officer, whether French or Spanish., that somehow was not communicated to Jones or was ignored by him, this being something that is all too plausible given the fact that relations between Douglas and Wellington’s engineering staff appear to have been extremely frosty. For the Douglas plan, meanwhile, see http://www.flickr.com/photos/78586478@N06/ 7570705244/in/photostream/, accessed 19 October 2013. 3. See, for instance, NA. WO.78/5906 – Position in Front of Burgos Taken up by our Army Before Raising the Siege, Drawn by Major Hutchins, Lt. Mitchell 95th Regiment. 4. Particularly interesting in the context of this problem is a note in Fletcher’s Fortresses of the Peninsular Wars: ‘With Jones’ map at hand, Burgos is well worth a visit and visitors will certainly be rewarded if they apply themselves to the task of identifying the fortifications.’ Fletcher, Fortresses of the Peninsular War, p. 61. 5. A modern reprinting of the version of the Barrière map that accompanied Alison’s history of the Revolutionary and Napoleonic Wars may be found in S. Forty and M. Swift, Historical Maps of the Napoleonic Wars (London, 2003), p. 105. 6. See N. Lipscombe, The Peninsular War Atlas (Oxford, 2010), p. 283 (Figure A2.10); I. Robertson, An Atlas of the Peninsular War (London, 2010), p. 85. The map has also been used by a number of recent chroniclers of the conflict. See D. Gates, The Spanish Ulcer: A History of the Peninsular War (London, 1986), p. 368. Select Bibliography

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Aberdeen, Earl of, see Army of Extremadura, 32 Hamilton-Gordon, George, Earl of Army of Galicia, see Army, Sixth Aberdeen Army of Portugal, 15, 16, 65, 70, Abisbal, Conde del, 68 78, 82 Adjutant General, 13 Army of Spain, 31, 32 Aitchison, John, 72, 85, 91, 95, 102, Army, Second, 68, 76 111, 123 Army, Third, 76 Alava, 52 Army, Fourth, 76, 77 Alcaraz, 77 Army, Sixth, 66, 67, 68, 69, 73, 74, 75, Alicante, 76, 77 76, 77, 78, 80, 134 Alos, Fernando de, 32 Arnot, Lawrence, 111 Amarante, Conde do, 65 Arroyomolinos de Montánchez, Amorós, Francisco, 52 combat of, 85 Anchía y Urquiza, Francisco Tomás de, artillery, British, 7, 8 56, 70 Astorga, 66, 74, 75, 76 Andalucía, 24, 53, 68 Avila, 53 Anglo-Spanish relations, 122 Anson, George, 72 Bacmeister, Johannes, 119 Apesteguí, José, 28 Badajoz, 32, 39, 40, 46, 65, 85, 87 Aragón, 24, 52 sieges of, 6, 8, 123 Aranda de Duero, 56, 70, 71, 81 Bailén, battle of, 1, 30, 32 Aranjuez, motín de,27 Ballesteros, Francisco, 58, 77 Arce, Ramón de, 61 bandits, 1, 51, 55–6 Arévalo, 68, 70, 97 Bañeza, La, 66 Arlanzón, river, 18, 21, 22, 23, 29, 32, Bañuelos, Miguel, 21, 24 71, 81, 125 Barcelona, 16 army, Anglo-Portuguese, 2, 4, 9, 14, Barriolucio, Marqués de, see Fernández 44, 65, 66, 67, 68, 76, 78, 82, 84, de Castro y del Nero, Joaquín, 86, 95, 121, 124, 126, 127 Marqués de Barriolucio; condition, 79 Fernández de Castro y Marchioti, criticism of Wellington, 95–6, 106, Francisco, Marqués de Barriolucio 123–5 (1777–1836) divisions; Fifth, 71, 73; First, 72; Basque provinces, 32, 69, 70, Light, 1, 71; Seventh, 73; Sixth, 85, 132 13, 70, 71; Third, 71 Bathurst, Lord, 76, 130 morale, 81, 106, 108, 113, 124–5 Bayonne, 1, 38 performance, 14, 15, 108, 122 siege of, 8 siege train, 69, 81 Bell, George, 129 army, British, 4, 10, 135 Belmas, Jacques, 4, 9, 12 army, Galician, see Army, Sixth Belveder, Conde de, 32, 34 army, Spanish, 32, 56, 133 Beresford, Sir William, 97, 113 quality, 66 Berthier, Louis Alexandre, 28 Army of Castile, 32 Bessières, Jean-Baptiste, 30

214 Index 215

Bilbao, 16 history, post-1815, 132 Bingham, George, 110 impact of Peninsular War, 16 Blackman, John, 84 impact of siege, 126, 132, 134 Black Watch, see regiments, British, international congress, 2008, 3 42nd Foot Junta Criminal Extraordinaria, 62 Blanca, Cerro de la, 22, 23, 38, 40, 42, living conditions, 21–2, 24–5, 40, 43, 45, 84, 94, 116, 119, 127, 132, 49, 53, 127 133, 134 mediaeval, 17–18 Blanco de Salcedo, Domingo, 38, 51 nobility, 20–1 Blayney, Harold, 53, 54 population, 20 Blondau, Jacques, 42 province, 52, 53 Bock, Eberhardt von, 72 religious establishment, 17, 20 Boecillo, 71, 72 sack of, 1808, 35–7, 47, 56 Bonaparte, Joseph, 1, 30, 37, 41, 46, visited by Napoleon, 1808, 2, 3, 50, 51, 52, 53, 54, 61, 62, 63, 67 38–9 Bonaparte, Napoleon, 1, 2, 16, 26, 28, walls, 21, 22–3, 39, 42, 43, 100, 94, 34, 37, 40, 51, 52, 61, 63 102, 103, 106, 107, 109 and battle of Gamonal, 32 Burgos, campaign of, 14, 15, 16, 65–83 and castle of Burgos, 38–9, 43–4 Burgos, castle of, 2, 3, 4, 14, 29, 61, stay in Burgos, 1808, 2, 3, 38–41 66, 69, 70, 80, 81, 82, 83, 84 Bonnet, Jean, 33 archaeological exploration, 3, 134–5 Bothmer, Ludwig von, 119 Batterie Napoléon, 42, 96, 100, Boulart, Jean, 27 115, 132 Bowles, George, 80, 114, 123 cartography, 44 Bragge, William, 78, 101 descriptions, 23, 45, 84–5 Breymann, Georg, 119 explosion, 12 June 1813, 127–9 Bridgeman, George, 120 fire of 1736, 23 Britain, 27 fleches, 44, 86, 105 British Library, 12 French reconstructions, 41–5, 127 Brittany, 85 garrison, 85, 114, 121 Briviesca, 37 history post-1814, 131–3 Browne, Thomas Henry, 74 hornwork of San Miguel, 43–4, 45, Burgess, 118 85–90, 95–6, 98, 100, 104, 106, Burgos, 1, 3, 14, 15, 31, 65, 66, 69, 70, 113, 115, 127, 129 73, 74, 75, 77, 79, 80, 81, 82, legends, 4 97, 125 Napoleon’s plan of defence, 38–9, cathedral, 17, 21, 29, 47, 62, 128; 43–4 Capilla de Cristo, 127 physical remains, 2, 3, 13 city council, 28, 31, 38, 52, 53, 56, renovation in contemporary era, 3, 61, 126, 134, 135 4, 134 civic guard, 30 repairs ordered by Wellington, 130 disturbances, April 1808, 28–9 seminar on, 1994, 2 disturbances, November 1807, 26 siege of, 1812, 2, 4, 6, 7, 10, 13, 14, early-modern, 18–20 16, 120, 122; assault of 4 economy, 17–23, 131–2 October, 109–10; assault of 18 exhibition, 2008, 4 October, 117–20; French occupation, 26–31, 40–64 bombardment, 107, 109, gates, 22–3 115–16, 117–18; casualties, 90, garrison, 53, 55, 56 93, 113, 121; escalade of 22 216 Index

Burgos, castle of – continued Ciudad Rodrigo, 39, 65, 97, 98 September, 89–95, 98; French siege of, 6, 8, 123 sorties, 111–13, 120; impact on Clausel, Bertrand, 15, 16, 65, 67, 70, Anglo-Spanish relations, 122; 71, 72, 73, 77, 78, 80, 82, 101, mining, 100–1, 104, 105, 106, 122, 125 108–9, 116–17; storm of Clinton Papers, 12 hornwork of San Miguel, 86–90, Clinton, Sir Henry, 13, 70, 71 95–6, 98; trenches, 98–9, 102, Clitheroe, John, 111 103, 104, 106, 111; weather, Clive, Robert, 120 101–2, 104, 106, 111 Cocks, Edward Charles, 86, 89, 90, 92, Burgoyne, Sir John, 8, 12, 91, 99, 108, 99, 112, 113 110, 113, 122 Coldstream Guards, see regiments, British, 2nd Footguards Cádiz, 75 Colmenares, José Antonio, 58 Caffarelli, Louis, 75 Commissary-General’s Muster Calle de la Puebla, 22, 55 Office, 13 Calle de Tenegebrosa, 22 Condestables, Palacio de los, 18, 89 Campsie, 89 constitution of 1812, 73 Cooke, John, 97 Cantabrian coast, 69 Córdoba, 24 Carlist Wars, 132 Córdon, Casa de, 44 Carr-Gomm, William, 12 Cordovilla, 74 cartography, 8 Corps of Observation of the Gironde, Cartuja, Monasterio de la, 26, 126 First, 26 Castalla, battle of, 76 Corps of Observation of the Gironde, Castaños, Francisco Javier de, 69, 74, Second, 26, 27 75, 80, 126 Corps of Observation of the Ocean Castellane, Espirit-Victor de, 31, 34 Coasts, 28 Castile, 17, 20, 24, 31 Coruña, La, 80 Castile, Kingdom of, 18 battle of, 5 Castile, New, 116 Corunna, see Coruña, La Castile, Old, 16, 66, 67, 70, 73, 131 Corunna, battle of, see La Coruña, Castilfalé, Palacio de, 18, 44 battle of Castillejos, heights of, 133 Crofton, William, 117, 118 Castillo, Cerro del, see Blanca, Cerro Cullen, David, 93 de la Cura, El, see Merino Cob, Jerónimo Castrillo de Duero, 56 Catalonia, 52 Daniel, John, 73, 86, 118 Centeno, Leopoldo, 134 Dansey, Charles, 103, 104 Chamartín, 30 D’Armagnac, Jean, 46, 47, 48 Chandler, David, 37 D’Avenay, Archange, 36 Charles III, King, of Spain, 21, 22, 29 Davidson, Ian, 4 Charles IV, King, of Spain, 25, 27 Díaz de Vivar, Rodrigo, 51, 54, 63 Charles V, Emperor, of the Holy Dick, Robert, 88 Roman Empire, 19 Dickson, Sir Alexander, 8, 12 Chlapowski, Dezydery, 33 Dickson Papers, 12 Church, Spanish, 25, 53, 60, 132 disamortisation, 25, 64 Cid, El, see Díaz de Vivar, Rodrigo Divall, Carole, 12, 16 Cisterniga, La, 71, 72, 73, 83 Dornoch, 87 Index 217

Dorsenne, Jean-Marie, 54, 62 Fournier-Sarlovèze, François, 48 Douglas, John, 12, 79 Foy, Maximilien, 66, 67, 70 Douglas, Sir Howard, 73, 75 Foyer, James, 89 Dover Castle, 91 Fraile, Andrés Telésforo, 54 Dubreton, Jean, 12, 85, 86, 110, 115, France, 12, 27, 48, 55, 85 124, 127 Fraser, James, 110 Duero, river, 56, 65, 67, 68, 69, 71, 72, Frazer, Sir Augustus, 129 77, 81, 125 Fremantle, John, 96, 99 Dufriche de Valazé, Eleonar, 12, 45 Fuengirola, 53 Du Maresque, Henry, 112 Fuentes de Oñoro, campaign of, 70 Dumas, Guillaume, 48 Dumouriez, Charles, 79 Galicia, 73 Dupont de l’Etang, Pierre, 26, 27, Gamonal, battle of, 1, 32–4, 61, 64 30, 32 García de la Cuesta, Gregorio, 32 Durham, University of, 12 García Romero, Francisco, 50 Duroc, Géraud, 40 Gerona, 39 dynasty, Bourbon, see monarchy, Gibraltar, 5 Bourbon Girardin, Louis Stanislas de, 30, 47, 55 Godoy, Manuel de, 26, 27, 61 Earl Grey Papers, 12 Gonneville, Aymar de, 36 Ebro, river, 16, 26, 30, 31, 70, 79, 80 Gordon, Alexander, 73, 78, 81, Elvas, 97 108, 130 Empecinado, El, see Martín Díez, Juan Gordon, Sir James, 12, 67, 72, 73, 78, empire, Napoleonic, 50 90, 105, 108, 111, 125 England, 8, 79, 121 government, British, 7, 14, 122 Ensenada census, 20, 24 Goya, Francisco de, 65 Ensenada, Marqués de, 20 Granada, 24, 67, 76 Esgueva de la Moneda, river, 22 Alhambra, 40 Esgueva de Trascorrales, river, 22 Granja, Marqués de la, 28 Espoz y Mina, Francisco, 70 Grant, Hugh, 79 Extremadura, 24, 65, 68, 85 Gredilla, Tomás, 28 Green, John, 101 Fantin des Odoards, Louis, 35 Grey, Charles, 105, 125 Farmer, George, 53, 57, 58, 60 Grey, Lord, see Grey, Charles Fée, Antoine, 48, 128 Guadalajara, 56 Felixstowe, 5 Guadalquivir, river, 40 Ferdinand II, King, of Aragón, 18 guerrillas, 1, 45, 51, 55–62, 70, 85 Ferdinand VII, King, of Spain, 27, 31, Guipúzcoa, 52 60, 131 Gunn, James, 87, 88, 99, 104 Ferguson, Sir Adam, 103 Gutiérrez, Nicolas, 28 Fernández de Castro y del Nero, Joaquín, Marqués de Hall, Charles, 92 Barriolucio, 21 Hamilton-Gordon, George, Earl of Fernández de Castro y Marchioti, Aberdeen, 73, 78 Francisco, Marqués de Barriolucio Hansing, Adolphus, 93 (1777–1836), 56, 57, 61 Heim, François-Joseph, 12 fêtes napoléoniques, 51 Henestrosa, Juan, 32 Fletcher, Sir Richard, 129 Henry IV, King, of France, 39 Fortescue, John, 4 Herreros, 72 218 Index

Hesse, Adolphus, 119 Latin-American revolutions, 131 Hill, Sir Rowland, 65, 68, 112 La Vega, suburb of, 23 historiography, British, 4, 5, 6, Lawrie, Andrew, 92–5, 100 10–12, 16 Leith, Sir James, 5 historiography, French, 6, 11 Lejeune, Louis, 28 historiography, Portuguese, 11 León, 56 historiography, Spanish, 4, 11, 16 Lerma, 31, 56, 70, 71 Holmes, Benjamin, 109 Levant, 65 Holmes, Richard, 16 Lisbon, 5, 7, 8, 11, 15, 26 Horcasitas, José Antonio de, 21 Long, Robert, 65 Hornillo del Camino, 78 Longa, Francisco, see Anchía y Horseguards, 14 Urquiza, Francisco Tomás de Huelgas Reales, Monasterio de las, 17, Lorca, Marqués de, 21 26, 31 Low, Sigismund, 92

Immaculate Conception, 47 MacKenzie Fraser, Charles, 92, 93, Imperial Guard, 33, 36 98, 99 India, 75 Madrid, 1, 2, 11, 14, 15, 17, 24, 25, 26, Industrial Revolution, 10 27, 28, 30, 38, 39, 41, 42, 47, 52, Ipswich Grammar School, 5 55, 65, 66, 68, 70, 71, 77, 82, 97, Isabella I, Queen, of Castile, 18 120, 121, 124, 131 Isar, 127 royal palace, 67 Mainwaring, Frederick, 80 Jaén, 40 Maitland, Sir Thomas, 76 Jane I, Queen, of Castile, 20 Málaga, 40 Jews, expulsion, 19 Malatos, Puente de, 18, 23 Jones, John, 12, 13, 14, 15, 71, 88, 94, Malta, 5 96, 105, 108, 116, 117 Mancha, La, 77 assault of 4 October, 109–10 Manchester, University of, 12 map, 8 Maqueda, 27 military career, 4–5, 8 Marcel, Nicolas, 36 relationship with Wellington, 5 Marmont, Auguste, see Viesse de told of intention to besiege Marmont, Auguste Burgos, 66 Martín Díez, Juan, 56 writings, 5–9 Mary Magdalen, 47 Jones, William, 5 May 1808, insurrection of, 1 Juana la Loca, see Jane I, Queen, of McGrigor, Sir James, 74, 97, 98 Castile McKenzie, Douglas, 90 Junot, Jean Andoche, 26, 49, 55 McKenzie, John, 90 Junot, Laure, 49 Medinaceli, Duque de, 31 juntas, 5 Mendízabal, Gabriel, 132 Junta Suprema Central, 58 Menzies, Archibald, 91 Merino Cob, Jerónimo, 56, 57, Kenny, Courtney, 107, 112 60, 63 King’s German Legion, 117 Milhaud, Edouard, 32 Mills, John, 73, 80, 85, 92, 106, 107, Laborde, Jean de, 22 113, 114, 118 Laguna, 72 Ministry of War, 134 Lasalle, Antoine, 33 Miot de Melito, André François, 31, 37 Index 219 monarchy, Bourbon, 1, 38 Plaza del Mercado Mayor, 22, 50, 55 Moncey, Bon-Adrien, 28 Plaza del Mercado Menor, 22, 28, 50, Mortier, Adolphe, 41 54, 128 Mouton, Georges, 31, 33 Plaza Mayor, see Plaza del Mercado Murcia, 76, 77 Menor Myatt, Frederick, 12 Plöermel, 85 Ponsonby, William, 72 Napier, William, 4, 6, 9, 11, 70, 71, Popham, Sir Home, 69 79, 107 Porter, Whitworth, 12 Naples, 5 Portugal, 1, 4, 26, 40, 46, 65 Kingdom of, 48 Portuguese participation in siege, 86, Napoleon, see Bonaparte, Napoleon 89, 96–8, 106, 119, 122 National Archives, 13 Pringle, William, 71 Navarre, 32, 52, 69, 70, 132 Pyrenees, 17 Netherlands, 20 Nevill, Park, 91, 112 Nöel, Jean, 5314 Quintanadueñas, 26 Nuestra Señora de Vejarrua, church of, 35, 43 Real Compañía de Comercio de San Olivier–Copons, Eduardo de, 2, Carlos, 21 133, 135 Real Sociedad Económica de los Oman, Charles, 4, 6, 11, 12, 13, 77, 85 Amigos del País, 21 Oporto, 120 Reconquista, 17 Reformation, 19 Pack, Denis, 86, 89, 96 regiments, British Padilla, Juan de, 19 3rd Dragoons, 78 Palencia, 53, 80 1st Footguards, 85, 91 Pamplona, 38, 39, 46 2nd Footguards, 80, 85, 114, 123 Pancorbo, 38 3rd Footguards, 92, 117 Paris, 36, 62, 103 1st Foot, 79 Parque, Duque del, 76 9th Foot, 107, 112 Paseo del Espolón, 21, 50, 51, 54 24th Foot, 109, 123 peninsula, Iberian, 1, 5, 7, 8, 13, 80 42nd Foot, 4, 10, 86, 87–91, 93, 96, Peninsular War, 1, 2, 4, 5, 8, 10, 11, 98, 102 26, 56, 132 30th Foot, 91 bicentenary, 3 34th Foot, 129 impact, 16 51st Foot, 80 outbreak, 17 58th Foot, 103 sieges,5,6,7,8,9,13 st Perceval, George, 117, 119 61 Foot, 93 th Percy, Pierre de, 40 68 Foot, 101 th Pérez de Cevallos, Juan, 38 79 Foot, 86, 90, 92, 112, 113 th Perrin, Claude, 48 16 Light Dragoons, 89, 99, 113 Petty, Stephen, 79 18th Light Dragoons, 127 Peyron, Jean, 21 2nd Line Battalion, King’s German Pico, river, 32 Legion, 93, 111 Pisuerga, river, 71, 72, 73, 81 Perthshire Militia, 89 Pitt, Thomas, 107, 112 Royal Artillery, 103 220 Index regiments, French San Juan, Monasterio de, 22 6th Cuirassiers, 36 San Juan, Puerta de, 22, 34 4th Dragoons, 26 San Martín, church of, 43 Garde de Paris, 85 San Martín, Puerta de, 22, 23 Horse Artillery of the Guard, 27 San Miguel, Cerro de, 3, 22, 23, 43, 86, 31st Line, 35 94, 102, 104, 116, 119, 127, 34th Line, 85 132, 134 69th Line, 36 San Miguel, hornwork of, 43, 44, 45, 130th Line, 85 85–90, 91, 95–6, 100, 104, 106, regiments, Portuguese 107, 113, 115, 127, 129 6th Caçadores, 119 San Pablo, Puente de, 18, 125 regiments, Spanish San Pedro, suburb of, 22 Guardias Walonas, 33 San Pedro de Cardenas, Monasterio Husares Voluntarios de Burgos, 56 de, 51 Primer Regimiento de Asturias San Pedro de la Fuente, church of, 35 Regimiento de Arlanza, 56 San Román, church of, 43, 116, 117, Reid, William, 92, 93, 107, 112 118–19 Retiro, fortress, 14, 39 San Sebastián, 39 Revilla Vallejera, 74 siege of, 6, 8 Rey, Hospital del Rey, 18 Santa María, Puente de, 18, 121 Rioja, La, 55, 58 Santa María, Puerta de, 23, 28 Robertson, William von, 111 Santander, 17, 22, 58, 131 Rodríguez de Arellano, José, 21 province, 85 Ross-Lewin, Henry, 121 Santiago de Compostela, 17, 18, 22 Rous, John, 114 Santillán, Ramón de, 60 Royal Engineers, Corps of, 5, 7, 12, 13 Santa María la Blanca, basilica of, 23, Royal Military Academy, 5, 69 35, 42, 115–16, 131 Royal Military Artificers, Corps of, Santocildes, José-María de, 80 7, 69 Sans-Gêne, Thérèse, 63 Royal Sappers and Miners, Corps of, 7 Sarrazin, Jean, 8 Russell, Lord John, 120 Scharnhorst, Ernst von Scotland, 89 Sainte-Domingue, 85 Sebastián, Juan Pablo, 131 Salamanca, 40, 62 Segovia, 70, 71 battle of, 2, 65, 66, 70, 72, 76, 78, Ségur, Phillippe de, 34, 35 79, 82, 93, 96 Seville, 39, 68 forts, 69 Sicily, 5 forts, siege of, 8 Somosierra, pass of, 71 Salas de los Infantes, 61 Soria, 58 Salvá, Anselmo, 26, 51, 54, 126 Soult, Jean-de-Dieu, 32, 68 San Agustín, 30 Southey, Robert, W., 4, 9, 86 San Agustín, Convento de, 49 Spain, 1, 4, 24, 28, 30, 31, 40, 44, 46, Sánchez, Julián, 130 55, 85, 91 Sánchez-Moreno del Moral, Fernando, Bonaparte Kingdom of, 50, 52 2, 3 eastern, 8 San Cristóbal, 72 insurrection of 1808, 1, 52 San Estebán, parish of, 131 northern, 5, 16, 80 San Gil, church of, 47 southern, 67, 77 San Juan, Hospital de, 126 Spectateur Militaire, 12, 45 Index 221

Stampa Pineiro, Leopoldo, 35 Waterloo, battle of, 87, 91 Stanhope, James, 85, 102, 106, 117, Weller, Jac, 13, 15 118, 119 Wellesley, Arthur, Lord Wellington, 2, Stewart, Gilbert, 93, 107, 112 7, 9, 14, 44, 55, 77, 80, 81, 89, 99, Stirling, James, 86, 92 103, 105, 106, 109, 110, 127 Sydenham, Thomas, 75, 116 advance on Burgos, 76–9 Sydney Gardens, 109 advance on Valladolid, 66, 72 biographers, 83 Tagus, river, 65, 68 complaints about his forces, 93–4, Talbot, John, 99 96–7 Tarragona, 39 conduct of Burgos campaign, 70–1, Tascher, Maurice de, 29 73–4, 79, 82–3 Terror, Great, 46 conduct of siege, 91, 92, 94–6, 100, Thiébault, Paul, 41, 42, 46, 47, 48, 49, 117, 119, 123 50, 51, 52, 55, 62 dispatches, 10, 12 Toledo, 19 headquarters, 10, 80, 89, 90 Tomkinson, William, 12, 78, 89 inactivity following liberation of Tordesillas, 72 Madrid, 67 Toro, 53, 66 liberation of Burgos, 1813, 130 Torre, Manuel de la, 28 liberation of Madrid, 65, 67 Tournon-Simiane, Camille de, 48 offered command-in-chief of Spanish army, 122 Valencia, 65 plan of campaign, 67–9 province, 68, 76 raises siege, 121 Valladolid, 15, 17, 21, 22, 66, 67, 68, responsibility for failure, 122–4 70, 72, 73, 74, 75, 78, 80, 91, 97 views on General Maitland, 76 bishop of, 74 views on siege, 112–13 province, 53 views on Spaniards, 69, 75, 77 Valmy, battle of, 79 and wounded, 97 Victor, Marshal, see Perrin, Claude Wellington, Duke of, see Wellesley, Viesse de Marmont, Auguste, 78 Arthur, Lord Wellington Villa Toro, 86, 97 Whitehall, 14 Villimar, 32, 33, 113 Whittingham, Samuel, 76 Villodrigo, 75 Williams, John, 107, 112 Vinci, Leonardo da, 47 Williamson, Donald, 93 Vitoria, 28, 75 Woodberry, George, 127 battle of, 1, 2, 130 Woolwich, 5 Vizcaya, 52 Wrottesey, George, 12 Wurmb, Adolphus, 117, 119 Walcheren expedition, 5 Walpole, John, 117, 118, 119 York, Fredrick, Duke of, 12, 67, 74, 111 War of Independence, Spanish, 2 War-Office Papers, 13 Zamora, 66, 67, 70