The dawn of September 28 brought small comfort to Masséna. His desperate attacks of the preceding day had been repulsed2 with such ease and such heavy loss, that neither he nor any of his subordinates dreamed of renewing the attempt to force the line of the Serra. Only three courses were open to him—to retreat on Almeida, giving up the campaign as one too ambitious for the strength of his army, or to change his objective and strike backwards3 at Oporto,—if Lisbon were beyond his grasp,—or to endeavour to move Wellington out of his position by turning his flank, since a frontal attack had proved disastrous4. The first course was advocated by more than one adviser5, but presented no attractions to the Marshal: he was both obstinate6 and angry, and did not dream for a moment of spoiling his military reputation by retreating tamely after a lost battle. The blow at Oporto was equally unattractive: he had been told to drive the English out of Portugal, and to capture Lisbon, not to make a mere7 lodgement on the Douro. Moreover, as he had remarked to Ney before the battle, if he marched on Oporto by the bad road via Vizeu, he might find the British army once more in his front, when he drew nearer to the city, since the Coimbra-Oporto chaussée is both shorter and better than the by-roads which he would have to follow. There remained the third possibility—that of turning Wellington out of the Bussaco position by flanking operations. The country-side did not look very promising9, but the attempt must be made.
Early on the 28th the French cavalry10 was sent out in both directions to explore the whole neighbourhood—a task which Masséna should have prescribed to it on the 25th and 26th,[p. 391] instead of keeping it massed in his rear. The reconnaissances sent southward by Reynier’s light cavalry brought no encouraging report: if the French army crossed the Mondego, it would only run against Wellington’s carefully prepared position behind the Alva. Fane’s cavalry were out in this direction, and would give ample time of warning to allow the allied11 army to pass the fords of Pe?a Cova and man the long series of earthworks. Only a repetition of the Bussaco disaster could follow from an attempt to take the offensive on this side. From the north, however, Montbrun, who had ridden out with some of Sainte-Croix’s dragoons, brought far more cheering news. This indeed was the flank where, on the first principles of topography, some hope of success might have been looked for. To any one standing13 either on the Bussaco heights or on the lower ridge14 in front of them, and casting an eye over the dappled and uneven15 country-side to the north, it seems incredible that there should be no route whatever across the Serra de Caramula. Both the seacoast-plain of Beira and the valley of the Oerins, the little river which drains the plain of Mortagoa, were thickly populated. Was it likely that there would be no means of getting from the one to the other save by the chaussée through Bussaco, or the circuitous16 road far to the north, from Vizeu to Aveiro via Feramena and Bemfeita? The maps, it is true, showed no other route: but every day that he remained in Portugal was proving more clearly to the Marshal that his maps, Lopez and the rest, were hopelessly inaccurate17. The Serra de Caramula, though rugged18, is not one continuous line of precipices19, nor is it of any great altitude. On first principles it was probable that there might be one or more passages in this stretch of thirty miles, though it was conceivable that there might be no road over which artillery20 could travel[441].
There was, therefore, nothing astonishing in the fact that Montbrun discovered that such a track existed, nine miles north of Bussaco, running from Mortagoa, by Aveleira and Boialvo, to Sard?o in the valley of the Agueda, one of the affluents21 of[p. 392] the Vouga. There was nothing particularly startling in the discovery, nor did it imply any special perspicacity22 in the discoverers, as many of the French narratives23 seek to imply. A peasant captured in one of the deserted24 villages high up the Oerins, and cross-questioned by Masséna’s Portuguese26 aide-de-camp Mascarenhas, who accompanied Sainte-Croix on his reconnaissance, revealed the fact that this country-road existed. He even, it is said, expressed to his compatriot his surprise that the French had not taken it when first they arrived at Mortagoa, since it was unguarded, while the whole allied army was lying across the Bussaco chaussée. It was, he said, habitually27 used by the ox-waggons28 of the peasantry: it was not a good road, but was a perfectly29 practicable one.
With this all-important news Montbrun and Sainte-Croix returned to Masséna about midday. The Marshal at once resolved to make an attempt to utilize30 the Boialvo road. There was some danger in doing so, since it was possible that Wellington might wait till the greater part of the French army had retired31 from his front, and then descend32 upon the rearguard and overwhelm it. Or, on the other hand, he might have made preparations to hold the further end of the pass, so that when the vanguard of the invaders33 was nearing Boialvo or Sard?o they might find 20,000 men, withdrawn35 from the Bussaco position in haste, lying across their path at some dangerous turn of the road. Indeed, we may confidently assert that if in 1810 the British general had possessed37 the army that he owned in 1813, Masséna would have had the same unpleasant experience that befell Soult at Sorauren, when he attempted a precisely38 similar man?uvre—a flank march round the allied army on the day after a lost battle.
But Masséna was prepared to take risks, and the risk which he was now accepting was a considerably39 less perilous40 one than that which he had incurred41 when he chose to make a frontal attack on the Bussaco position on the preceding day. For though flank marches across an enemy’s front are justly deprecated by every military authority, this was one executed at a distance of nine or ten miles from the British line, and not in a level country, on to which Wellington might easily descend from his fastness, but in a broken wooded upland, full of ridges42[p. 393] on which the French might have formed up to fight if assailed43. If this fact did not remove the danger, it at any rate made it infinitely44 less. If one of the two possible contretemps should happen—if Wellington should come down with a sudden rush upon the rearguard—that force would have to fight a defensive45 action on the ridges below Bussaco, till the main body could turn back to help it. In that case there would follow a pitched battle upon rolling and uneven ground, which did not favour one side more than the other; and this, at any rate, would be a more favourable46 situation for the French than that in which they had fought on Sept. 27. If, on the other hand, Wellington should send a strong detachment to hold the western debouch47 of the Boialvo road, nothing would be lost—if nothing would be gained. It was improbable that there would be any position in that quarter quite so strong as the tremendous slope of the Serra de Bussaco. The result of an attempt to force the defile48 might be successful.
At any rate Masséna thought the experiment worthy49 of a trial. Accordingly, on the afternoon of the 28th, ostentatious demonstrations50 were made against the front of the Bussaco position, which led to a good deal of objectless skirmishing[442]. Wellington was not for a moment deceived. Indeed, the idea that another assault was impending51 was negatived by the fact that both Reynier’s and Ney’s men were seen to be throwing up abattis and digging trenches52 on the flanks of the two roads on which they lay. These could only be meant for defensive use, and presumably must be intended to help the French rearguard to hold the ridges, if the Anglo-Portuguese army should descend upon them. Late in the afternoon officers furnished with good telescopes, and stationed on the highest point of the Bussaco Serra, reported that they could detect columns in movement from the French rear in the direction of the north-west. These were Sainte-Croix’s cavalry and the baggage-trains of Ney and Junot making their way to the rear, in order to get into the Mortagoa-Boialvo road. At six o’clock, dusk having still not come on, it was reported that Ney’s infantry53 reserves were certainly moving in the same direction. Only Loison’s division was still immovable on its old position opposite Sula. At[p. 394] nightfall, therefore, the movement of the French was well ascertained54. It might mean merely a general retreat on Mortagoa and an abandonment of the campaign[443], but this was most unlikely. Far more probable was some march to turn the allied flank by the passes of the Serra de Caramula. Wellington himself had no doubt whatever that this was the enemy’s intention. As the dusk fell he stood for some time on the summit of the Serra, watching the French columns receding1 in the distance. He then rode back to his head quarters at the convent of Bussaco, and dictated55 without delay a series of orders which set his whole army in retreat for Coimbra and Lisbon. Before daylight the position was deserted, only a rearguard being left on it. He does not seem to have thought for a moment of attacking, on the following morning, the 2nd Corps56 and Loison’s division, which had been left in his front, nor of directing his right wing to march on Sard?o, which it could have reached long before the French arrived there. Each of these courses was so obvious that critics have lavished57 blame upon him for not adopting the one or the other[444].
The explanation of his conduct is neither that he failed to see the two alternatives which were in his power, nor that he showed (as several French writers maintain) an excessive timidity. Still less is it possible to urge, as some have done, that he was ruined by his own neglect to occupy the Boialvo road. He knew of that pass, had taken it into consideration, and in one of his dispatches speaks vaguely58 of a means which he was hoping to discover to render it useless to the enemy[445]. This remedy cannot mean, as some have supposed, the moving thither59 of Trant’s corps of Portuguese militia60. It is true that Wellington had ordered this force to occupy Sard?o some days before. But it was neither large enough, nor composed of troops solid enough, to resist, even in a strong position, the attack of a single French brigade. Some other device must have been meant, though we[p. 395] cannot determine what it may have been. The true key to Wellington’s action is to remember the immense pains that he had taken in building the Lines of Torres Vedras, and the elaborate arrangements that had been made during the last few weeks to complete the system for devastating61 Portugal in front of the enemy. It was by these means, and not by fights in the open, that he had from the first designed to defeat the invader34. Bussaco had been an ‘uncovenanted mercy’: if Masséna chose to run his head against that stone wall, it was worth while to man it, and to permit him to break himself against its granite62 boulders63. But such an operation as descending64 into the plain to attack the 2nd Corps on the 29th, or offering battle in front of Sard?o on that same day, was not within the scope of Wellington’s intentions. If he had wished to engage in that sort of fighting, he had already had ample opportunities to attack sections of the French army during the last two months. But to get engaged with one corps in a rolling upland, and then to have the other two converging65 on him while the fight was in progress, he had never intended—nor would he do so now. He gave his orders for the retreat of the army on Coimbra actually before the French had possession of their own end of the Boialvo pass, and at a moment when a single night march would have sufficed to place Cole, Craufurd, and Spencer across the western end of it, with ample time to choose a position before the enemy could arrive in front. He explains his refusal to do so in his ‘Memorandum of Operations in 1810’ in the following terms: ‘It would have been impossible to detach a corps from the army to occupy the Serra de Caramula after the action of the 27th. That corps might have been hard pressed and obliged to retreat, in which case it must have retreated upon Sard?o and the north of Portugal. It could not have rejoined the army, and its services would have been wanting in the fortified66 position in front of Lisbon. It was therefore determined67 to rely upon Colonel Trant alone to occupy the Serra de Caramula, as his line of operations and retreat was to the northward68. Nothing could have been done, except by detaching a large corps, to prevent the French from throwing a large force across the Caramula. When, therefore, they took that road, there was nothing for it but to withdraw from Bussaco. And, after quitting[p. 396] Bussaco, there was no position that we could take up with advantage, in which we could be certain that we could prevent the enemy from getting to Lisbon before us, till we reached the fortified positions in front of that place[446].’ As to the other possibility, that of attacking the French rearguard below Bussaco instead of endeavouring to stop its vanguard at Sard?o, Wellington only observes that ‘they had at least 12,000 or 14,000 more men than we had, and good as our position was, theirs was equally good.’ If he had fallen upon Reynier, the latter (he thought) could have detained him long enough to allow Ney and Junot to return, and so he would have found himself committed to an offensive action against superior numbers on unfavourable ground.
These arguments are unanswerable when we consider Wellington’s position. He might have succeeded in checking Masséna at Boialvo or Sard?o; but, if he did not, ruin would ensue, since he might be cut off from the detached corps, and then would not have men enough to hold the Lines of Torres Vedras. He might have crushed Reynier before he was succoured, but if he failed to do so, and became involved in a general action, a disastrous defeat was possible. In short, considering what failure would mean—the loss of Lisbon, the re-embarkation69 of the army, probably the end of the Peninsular War—he rightly hesitated to take any risk whatever. At the same time, we may suspect that if the allied army of 1810 had been the army of 1813, Wellington might very possibly have played a more enterprising game. But the Portuguese still formed the larger half of his force, and though he had ascertained by their behaviour on the 27th that they were now capable of fighting steadily71 in a defensive action on favourable ground, it was nevertheless very doubtful whether he could dare to risk them in a battle fought under different conditions. One cheering example of the courage and discipline of these newly organized regiments73 did not justify74 him in taking it for granted that they could be trusted under all possible conditions, as if they were veteran British troops.
On the dawn of Sept. 29, therefore, the two armies were marching away from each other. On the Bussaco position there remained only Craufurd’s Light Division, strengthened by[p. 397] Anson’s cavalry brigade, which was brought up behind the Serra, to form the mounted section of the force which was for the next ten days to act as the rearguard of the allied army. Opposite them only Reynier remained, and he had drawn36 far back on to the Mortagoa road, where he stood in a defensive position in the morning, but retired, brigade after brigade, in the afternoon. The main body of Wellington’s army was retiring in two columns: Hill, and Hamilton’s Portuguese division crossed the fords of Pe?a Cova and marched for Espinhal and Thomar. The force which had been left far out on the right behind the Alva—Fane’s cavalry and Lecor’s Portuguese militia—joined Hill and accompanied him to Lisbon. This column was absolutely unmolested by the enemy during the whole twelve days of the retreat to the Lines. The French did not so much as follow it with a cavalry patrol. The other and larger column, formed of Spencer, Cole, Leith, and Picton, with Pack’s, Coleman’s, and Alex. Campbell’s Portuguese, marched for Mealhada and Coimbra. Craufurd and Anson started twelve hours later to bring up the rear. During the hours while the Light Division was waiting its orders to start, some of its officers explored the evacuated76 French position, and found parked in an enclosure 400 desperately78 wounded soldiers, whom Masséna had abandoned to the mercy of the Portuguese peasantry. He had used up all available carts and mules79 to carry his wounded, but had been forced to leave the worst cases behind. They were picked up and moved into the convent of Bussaco[447]; on what became of them afterwards it is well not to speculate. No friendly column came that way again[448], and the Ordenan?a were daily growing more exasperated80 at the conduct of the invading army. The French were not only carrying out in an intermittent81 fashion Masséna’s edict of Sept. 4, directing that all men with arms but without uniforms were to be shot at sight, but burning every village that they passed, and murdering nearly[p. 398] every peasant that they could hunt down, whether he was bearing arms or no[449].
Meanwhile, on the 29th and 30th of September, the French army was executing its flank march, practically unopposed, though not unobserved. Sainte-Croix’s division of dragoons was at the head of the line of march: then came the infantry of the 8th Corps, which had been put in the vanguard because it had not suffered at Bussaco. Next came the reserve cavalry of Montbrun, followed by the Grand Park and the massed baggage of the 6th and 8th Corps, mixed with a convoy82 of over 3,000 wounded. Ney’s troops brought up the rear of the main column. Reynier was a day’s march to the rear; having spent the 29th opposite the Bussaco heights, he only reached Mortagoa that evening. Sainte-Croix’s cavalry on this same day had passed the watershed83 and reached Avellans de Cima, where they met a patrol of De Grey’s dragoons, who had sent parties out in all directions, from their head quarters at Mealhada in the coast-plain. From this time onward84 the French advanced guard was watched by the four regiments of Slade and De Grey, who were directed to hold back its exploring cavalry, and not to permit it to reach Coimbra an hour sooner than could be helped. There was also a clash on the afternoon of the 30th between part of Sainte-Croix’s dragoons and the Portuguese militia of Trant in front of Sard?o. Trant had been ordered to be at that place[p. 399] on September 27: he only arrived there on the afternoon of the 28th, not by his own fault, but because his superior officer Baccelar, commanding the whole militia of the North, had ordered him to move from Lamego to Sard?o by the circuitous road along the Douro, and then from Feira southward, instead of taking the straight road across, the mountains north of Vizeu, where he might possibly have been stopped by some outlying French detachment. Trant had at the moment only a squadron of dragoons and four militia regiments with him (Porto, Penafiel, Coimbra, and a battalion85 of light companies), and these, from hard marching, and from desertion, were in all less than 3,000 strong. Knowing that he was expected to hold the debouch of the Boialvo road against anything short of a strong force, Trant made an attempt to stand his ground. But his vanguard bolted at the first shot fired, and with the rest he had to make a hurried retreat beyond the Vouga, leaving the road free to the French[450]. Sainte-Croix had already pushed in[p. 400] between him and the British cavalry, who now began to make a slow retreat towards Mealhada. At that place, early on the 30th, Slade and De Grey were joined by Anson’s eight squadrons, who had come in at the tail of Craufurd’s division after the rearguard evacuated the Bussaco position. On this day the main column of the British infantry marched through Coimbra, leaving the Light Division alone in the city. Wellington’s head quarters that night were at Condeixa six miles south of the Mondego. The three cavalry brigades retired, bickering86 with the French advanced guard all day, as far as Fornos, eight miles north of Coimbra. Masséna’s infantry, after emerging from the Boialvo pass, were now pushing south, and bivouacked on the night of the 30th, Ney and Junot’s corps at Mealhada, Reynier’s at Barreiro, ten miles behind the others. The biscuit which the French army had taken with it from Almeida was now almost exhausted87, and it was a great relief to the troops to find, in the deserted villages of the plain of Coimbra, considerable quantities of maize88 and rice, with which they could eke89 out or replace the carefully hoarded90 rations8.
Meanwhile the city of Coimbra was full of distressing91 scenes. Though Wellington had ordered the whole population of Western Beira to leave their abodes92 as soon as the French reached Vizeu, yet only the richest of the inhabitants of Coimbra had departed. The bulk had still held to their houses, and the news of the victory of Bussaco had encouraged them to hope that no evacuation would be necessary. The Portuguese govern[p. 401]ment, though it had consented to carry out Wellington’s scheme of devastation93, and had duly published proclamations commanding its execution, had taken no great pains to secure obedience94 to it. The sacrifice, indeed, that was demanded of the citizens of a wealthy town such as Coimbra was a very great one—far more bitter than that imposed on the peasantry, who were told at the same moment to evacuate77 their flimsy cottages. It was bitterly resented, and, despite of the proclamation, four-fifths of the 40,000 inhabitants of Coimbra were still in their houses when, on the night of the 28th-29th, arrived Wellington’s dispatch stating that he was abandoning Bussaco, that the French would be in the city by the 30th or on the 1st of October, and that force would be used, if necessary, to expel people who still clung to their dwellings95. During the next two days the whole of the population of Coimbra was streaming out of the place by the roads to the south, or dropping down the Mondego in boats, to ship themselves for Lisbon at the little port of Figueira. Even on the 1st of October, the day when the French were reputed to be facing Fornos, only eight miles away, all had not yet departed. Many of the poor, the infirm, and the reckless remained behind to the last possible moment, and only started when the distant cannonade on the northern side showed that the British outposts were being driven in. Twenty miles of road were covered by the dense96 column of fugitives97, headed by those who had started on the 29th and brought up behind by those who had waited till the last moment. There was a great want of wheeled conveyances98: the richer folks had gone off with most of them, and others had been requisitioned for the allied wounded. Hence, many could take off nothing but what they could carry on their persons. An eye-witness writes that he saw the whole chaussée covered with respectable families walking on foot with bundles on their heads, while in the abandoned houses he noticed food of all sorts, table-linen, shirts, and all manner of other property, which was left behind in disorder99 because it was too heavy to be carried[451]. Another tells how ‘the old and the infirm, no less than the young and robust100, carrying with them all their more valuable effects, covered the fields as well as the road in every direction, and from time to[p. 402] time the weary fugitives, unable to carry further the heavier articles that they had endeavoured to save, dropped them by the wayside and struggled onward, bereft101 of the remnant of their little property[452].’ Fortunately the weather for the first eight days after the evacuation of Coimbra was warm and dry, so that the unhappy multitude had almost reached Lisbon before they began to suffer any inconvenience from the October rains.
While this exodus102 was going on, Craufurd’s Light Division stood under arms on the northern side of the city, while the six regiments of British horse, in the extreme rearguard, were bickering with Masséna’s squadrons in the plain toward Fornos. On this day the Marshal had strengthened his van with almost the whole of his cavalry, having added to Sainte-Croix’s division, which had hitherto formed the advance, most of Montbrun’s reserve of dragoons, and Lamotte’s light brigade from the 6th Corps. This body of thirty-four squadrons was altogether too strong for Stapleton Cotton’s three brigades, who had to give way whenever they were seriously pressed. Two miles outside Coimbra the British horse was divided into two columns: De Grey’s heavy dragoons crossed the Mondego at a ford12 opposite Pereira, Slade and Anson’s light dragoons and hussars by another at Alciada, nearer to the city. At the same moment the Light Division, when the enemy’s horse came in sight, retired through Coimbra, crossed the bridge, and pressed up the ascent103 towards Condeixa, thrusting before them the rearguard of belated fugitives who had only made up their minds to depart at the last possible moment. It is said that the block in front of them was so great that Craufurd’s regiments would have been in a situation of some danger, if they had been closely followed by French infantry, and forced to turn back to defend themselves. But nothing more than a troop of dragoons watched their passage of the bridge and their retreat to Condeixa, and not a shot had to be fired.
It was otherwise with the cavalry column composed of Slade’s and Anson’s brigades: they were closely followed by the bulk of the French cavalry, and had to turn at the ford to hold back their eager pursuers. Two squadrons of the German Hussars[p. 403] and one of the 16th Light Dragoons charged in succession to check the French vanguard, while a fire was kept up by a line of dismounted skirmishers all along the river bank. The hussars lost four men killed, and two officers and thirteen men wounded, besides six prisoners; the 16th, two wounded and one missing in this skirmish. It could have been avoided, according to critics on the spot, if the brigade had retreated a little faster in the previous stage of its movement. But Stapleton Cotton, forgetting the dangers of crossing such a defile as a narrow ford, had been rather too leisurely104 in covering the last three miles, considering that the French were so close behind him[453]. The enemy’s loss was insignificant105[454].
That night the British rearguard lay at Soure and Condeixa, while head quarters and the rear of the main army were at Redinha. The French did not cross the Mondego with more than a few cavalry patrols, and made no attempt to incommode the retreating column. Indeed they were otherwise employed. The entry of an army into a deserted town is always accompanied by disorders106: that of the army of Masséna into Coimbra was an exaggerated example of the rule—and for good reasons. The men had been living on bare rations for a month, and suddenly they found themselves in a town of 40,000 souls, where every door was open, every larder107 garnished108, and every cellar full. The very quays109 were littered with sacks of flour torn open, and puncheons of rum stove in, for Wellington’s commissariat officers had been to the last moment engaged in breaking up and casting into the river the remains110 of the magazine which had been feeding the army at Bussaco. The houses on every side were full of valuable goods, for most of the inhabitants had only been able to carry off their money and plate, and had left all else behind them. The first division of the 8th Corps, the earliest French troops to enter the place, consisted almost entirely111 of newly-formed fourth battalions112, composed of conscripts, and ill disciplined. They broke their ranks and fell[p. 404] to plunder113, only half-restrained by their officers, many of whom joined in the sport. A late comer from the artillery says that he saw one officer breaking open a door with a pickaxe, and another placing a sentry114 at the door of a shop which he wished to reserve for his own personal pillage115[455]. There was wide-spread drunkenness, some arson116, and an enormous amount of mischievous117 and wanton waste. It was afterwards said that Junot’s corps destroyed in twelve hours an amount of food that would have sufficed to supply the whole army for three weeks. It is at any rate certain that Coimbra was full of provisions when the French arrived, and that, when order was tardily118 restored, only a few days’ consumption could be scraped together to fill the empty waggons before the host marched on. Masséna raged against Junot for not having kept his men in hand, yet, if Portuguese narratives are to be trusted, he set as bad an example as any disorderly conscript, since he requisitioned for himself out of the University buildings all the telescopes and mathematical instruments, and distributed them among his staff[456]. The pillage was as wanton and objectless as it was thorough; the tombs of the kings in the church of Santa Cruz were broken open, the University Museum and laboratories wrecked119, and all the churches wantonly damaged and desecrated120. There was no attempt to restore order, or to utilize the captured property for the general good of the army, till the 6th Corps marched in on the next day. Even these later comers, however, could not be restrained from joining in the plunder. The mob of soldiers threatened to shoot the commissary-generals Lambert and Laneuville, when they began to put guards over the nearly-emptied storehouses.
The state of his army on the 1st and 2nd October sufficiently121 explains the conduct of Masséna in refraining from the pursuit[p. 405] of Wellington’s rearguard. But he was also somewhat puzzled to determine the policy which he must now adopt. Down to the last moment he had thought that Wellington would have fought at Fornos, or some other such position, to defend Coimbra. And even when Coimbra was evacuated, he had imagined that he might find the enemy drawn up to dispute the passage of the Mondego. But it was now clear that Wellington was in full retreat for Lisbon. Since the Marshal was still ignorant of the existence of the lines of Torres Vedras, which was only revealed to him four days later, he was somewhat uncertain how to interpret the conduct of his adversary122. After the vigorous stand that Wellington had made at Bussaco, it seemed dangerous to argue that he must now be in headlong flight for his ships, and about to evacuate Portugal. Yet the rapidity of his retreat seemed to argue some such purpose. Ought he, therefore, to be pursued without a moment’s delay, in order that his embarkation might be made difficult? This course, it is said, was advocated by Reynier, Montbrun, Fririon, and the Portuguese renegade d’Alorna. On the other hand, Ney and Junot both advised a stay at Coimbra, to rest the army, collect provisions, and, what was most important of all, to reopen communications with Almeida, Ciudad Rodrigo, and the 9th Corps, which was now due on the Spanish frontier. They pointed123 to the diminished strength of the army, which, having lost 4,600 men at Bussaco, and 4,000 more by the hard marching and poor feeding of the last month, was now reduced to some 57,000 men. The fighting-power of Wellington was formidable, as he had shown at Bussaco, where many of the French officers persisted in believing that he had shown numbers superior to their own—in which they erred124. A hasty advance, it was urged, might bring the invaders in face of a second Bussaco, where there was no chance of a turning movement. Would the commander-in-chief wish to accept another battle of the same sort? It would be better to establish a new base at Coimbra, to bring up the 9th Corps from the rear, and only to move on when the army was thoroughly125 reorganized. Meanwhile a detachment might demonstrate against Oporto, to distract Wellington’s attention[457]. This was[p. 406] the policy that Napoleon, two months after, declared that Masséna should have adopted. ‘Why,’ he asked, ‘did the Prince of Essling, after his failure at Bussaco, pursue the march on Lisbon, instead of taking up a position on the Mondego, and restoring his communications with Almeida? I had not burdened him with orders or instructions, and he could see that the English were not easy to beat.’ Masséna’s advocate, Foy, replied that ‘if the Army of Portugal had been halted on the Mondego, your Majesty126 would have said to the Prince, Why did you not march on? The English would have re-embarked, if they had been pressed.’ To which Napoleon, with a broad smile, answered, ‘Very true; I probably should have said so[458].’
The problem presented to the Marshal, indeed, was not an easy one. If he remained at Coimbra, his enemies would delate him to the Emperor for timidity; if he advanced, he might find that he had undertaken a task too great for his strength. The personal equation settled the difficulty: Masséna was obstinate and enterprising to the verge127 of temerity128. He resolved to go on, at the earliest possible moment, in the hope of forcing Wellington to a battle on ground less favourable than Bussaco, or of compelling him to embark70 without any general engagement at all. Two days only were spent at Coimbra. On October 3, Montbrun’s cavalry, after making a reconnaissance as far as the sea and the port of Figueira, crossed the Mondego to Villa25 Nova de Ancos, while the 8th Corps, headed by Sainte-Croix’s dragoons, occupied Condeixa: one division of Ney’s corps followed them. The rest of the 6th Corps and Reynier made ready to resume their advance.
A minor129 problem remained to be resolved. Should a large garrison130 be left in Coimbra, and a new base for the army established there? The Marshal had shot into the convent of Santa Clara 3,000 Bussaco wounded, and 1,000 sick men. There was an accumulation of waggons of the corps-trains and the[p. 407] Grand Park, which could push on no further, for want of draught131 beasts, and all manner of other impedimenta. If the army went on at full speed, in the hope of overtaking the English, all this must be left behind. But if left unguarded, wounded and all might become the victims of Trant’s militia, which was known to have retired no further than the Vouga, or even of the Ordenan?a of the hills. A strong garrison must be placed in Coimbra to make it safe: rumour132 had it on October 2 that Taupin’s brigade and a regiment72 of dragoons were to be set to guard the city[459]. But rumour was wrong: Masséna, after some doubting, made up his mind that he could not spare even 3,000 men. Every bayonet would be wanted if Wellington once more turned to bay. Accordingly he took the extraordinary step of telling off only a single company, 156 men, of the 44th équipage de la Marine—a naval133 unit which had been given him in order that he might have a nucleus134 of sea-going people, in case he succeeded in seizing the Portuguese arsenal135 at Lisbon. One would have thought that such men would have been so valuable, if only the enterprise had succeeded, that he would have chosen rather a company of ordinary infantry. These sailors, with two or three hundred footsore or convalescent men, organized into a couple of provisional companies, were all that the Marshal placed at the disposition136 of Major Flandrin, to whom he gave the high-sounding title of Governor of Coimbra. That officer was told that every day would increase his force, as more convalescents came out of hospital, and 3,500 muskets137, belonging to the sick and wounded, were left with him. The whole mass of disabled men was concentrated in the convent of Santa Clara, a vast building outside the trans-pontine suburb of Coimbra, on the south side of the Mondego. The garrison was so weak that it could do no more than keep a guard at each of the exits of the town, which was destitute138 of walls, with a post of thirty men, all that could be spared, at Fornos, on the great north road facing Oporto. To abandon his wounded to almost certain destruction was a reckless act on the Marshal’s part: probably he said to[p. 408] himself that if he could but catch and beat the Anglo-Portuguese army, a small disaster in his rear would be forgiven him. Unlike Wellington, he was ‘taking risks’[460].
On October 4 the French army made its regular start from Coimbra; the 6th Corps came out to Villa Pouca and Condeixa on the Pombal road, the 2nd Corps to Venda do Cego on the Anci?o road, which runs parallel with the other, ten miles to the east, and joins it at Leiria. Montbrun’s cavalry pushed in from Soure, to place itself in front of the 8th Corps, which now moved on from Condeixa as the head of the main infantry column. Its scouts139 that evening bickered140 in front of Pombal with Anson’s light cavalry, which was covering the retreat of the allied army. The two days which the French had spent in plundering141 Coimbra had allowed the Anglo-Portuguese infantry to get a start which they never lost: they never saw the enemy again during the rest of the retreat. That night Wellington’s head quarters were at Leiria, while Hill, unpursued by any hostile force, was at Thomar. For the next six days the British pursued a leisurely course towards the Lines, along the three roads Thomar-Santarem-Villafranca, which was taken by Hill; Alcoba?a-Caldas-Torres Vedras, which was taken by Picton; and Leiria-Batalha-Alemquer, which was taken by Spencer, Leith, and Cole. It was along the last-named, the central, road, that Craufurd’s infantry and the three cavalry brigades followed the main body, at the distance of a day’s march. Anson’s light cavalry brought up the extreme rear, and was almost the only unit which saw the enemy between the 4th and the 10th of October[461]. The rest of the allied army had completely outmarched Masséna. Its retreat was marked by some disorders: the sight of rich monasteries142 like Alcoba?a and[p. 409] Batalha, and large towns, like Thomar and Leiria, standing empty, yet left full of all such property as the inmates143 could not easily carry off, proved as tempting144 to the British as the sight of Coimbra had been to the French. There was much drunkenness, much looting, and some wanton mischief145. Wellington set himself to repress it by the strong hand. He hung at Leiria two troopers of the 4th Dragoon Guards, who were caught plundering a chapel146, and a man of the 11th Portuguese infantry. Some of the regiments which were found specially147 addicted148 to pillage were ordered to bivouac in the open fields every night, and never to be quartered in a village[462].
Anson’s brigade, alone among the allied troops, had an adventurous149 career during the retreat to the Lines. It was always in touch with a pursuing force of immense strength, for Masséna had constituted a flying vanguard under Montbrun, whose orders were to push the enemy at all costs, and to try to come up with his infantry. This force consisted of Sainte-Croix’s dragoons, Pierre Soult’s cavalry from the 2nd Corps, Lamotte’s from the 6th Corps, one brigade (Ornano’s) of the Reserve Cavalry, and Taupin’s infantry from the 8th Corps. Lamotte’s light horse had the place of honour, and endured most of the hard knocks. They had lively skirmishing with Anson’s 1st German Hussars and 16th Light Dragoons between Pombal and Leiria on the 5th October. The British brigade turned back twice, and drove their pursuers back on to Taupin’s infantry, but always suffered when it had to resume its inevitable150 retreat. The French lost eight killed, seventeen wounded (including five officers) and twenty prisoners—the British fifty in all, including two officers wounded, and one taken. This combat would not have been worth mentioning, but for the fact that it was from prisoners captured in it that Masséna got his first news of the existence of the Lines of Torres Vedras. Some of the troopers spoke151 freely of ‘the Lines’ as their point of destination, not guessing that this was the first time that their captors had heard of them. Hence the French generals learned that there were now fortifi[p. 410]cations in front of Lisbon: but they had, of course, no knowledge of their extent or character, and only expected to find some field-works on which Wellington would turn to bay. In fact, Masséna was encouraged by the news, thinking that he was now certain of the battle which he desired.
On the 7th October the French infantry was all concentrated at Leiria, Reynier’s corps having now rejoined the other two. Montbrun’s cavalry spread out so far as Alcoba?a—whose monastery152 it sacked—on the coast-road, and Muliano on the central road. Vedettes were sent out on the cross-road to Thomar also, but could find no trace of an enemy in that direction. On the night that followed Masséna received the disquieting153 intelligence that his deliberate taking of risks with regard to Coimbra had already been punished. A mounted officer, who had escaped, brought him news that his hospitals and their guard had been captured at a single blow by Trant’s militia that same afternoon.
That enterprising partisan154, it will be remembered, had been driven behind the Vouga by Sainte-Croix’s dragoons on September 30th. Since, however, none of the French turned aside to molest75 him, and all marched across his front on the Coimbra road, he was not forced to retire any further. And having his orders from Wellington to follow the enemy with caution, and pick up his stragglers and marauders, he came southward again when Masséna’s rearguard entered Coimbra. He had advanced to Mealhada when it was reported to him, on the 6th, that the rearguard of the French had left the city on the preceding day. A few people who had returned from the mountains to their homes, despite Wellington’s proclamation, sent him assurances that the numbers of the garrison were absolutely insignificant, and that of the wounded enormous. Judging rightly that it would have a splendid moral effect to capture Masséna’s hospitals, and the commencement of a base-magazine which was being formed at Coimbra, Trant resolved to strike at once. If he had waited a little he could have got help from J. Wilson and from Miller155, who had descended156 into the Celorico-Vizeu country, each with his brigade. They had been directed by Wellington to cut the French communications with Almeida, and had already carried out their orders.
[p. 411]
But Trant dreaded157 delay, thinking that Masséna might send back troops to Coimbra, when he found that Wellington was retiring as far as Lisbon. Without waiting for his colleagues, he marched at midday from Mealhada to Fornos on the 7th, and had the good fortune to surprise and capture the insignificant French post at that village: not a man escaped. He was now only eight miles from Coimbra, and was able to rush down into the city in the early afternoon before his arrival was known. He had with him one weak squadron of regular dragoons, and six militia battalions, having been joined since September 29th by all his stragglers and some outlying units. The whole made about 4,000 men[463]. Formed in two columns, they charged into Coimbra by its two northern entrances, sweeping158 away the small French guards at the gates. The squadron of cavalry then galloped159 along the street parallel with the river, and seized the bridge, thus cutting off the communication between the French in the town and those at the convent of Santa Clara, where the wounded lay. The small grand-guard, which the enemy kept inside the place, took refuge in the bishop160’s palace, but was forced to lay down its arms at the end of an hour. The men at the convent, joined by many of the convalescents, kept up a fire for a short time, but surrendered at discretion161, on Trant’s promise to protect them from the fury of his troops. He was, unfortunately, not entirely able to redeem162 his promise: the Coimbra local regiment was so enraged163 at the state in which it found its native town that it mishandled some of the prisoners—eight are said to have been slain[464]. The total loss of the Portuguese division was three killed and one officer and twenty-five men wounded.
Wilson and Miller came up next day, and sweeping the roads towards Condeixa and Pombal, picked up 300 more stragglers and marauders from the tail of Masséna’s marching column. Trant handed over Coimbra to them, and escorted his prisoners to Oporto with his own division: there were 3,507 sick and[p. 412] wounded, of whom half could march, while the rest were taken off in carts. Of able-bodied men not more than 400 soldiers were taken: but some hundreds of commissariat and hospital employés and men of the train brought up the total figures of the prisoners to 4,500 men. Trant has been accused by some French writers[465] of deliberately164 exposing his captives to the fury of the peasantry, and parading the wounded in an indecent fashion through the streets of Oporto. But the handsome testimonial to his humanity signed by a committee of French officers, which Napier prints in the Appendix no. 5 to his third volume, is enough to prove that Trant did his best for his prisoners, and that the unfortunate incident which occurred just after the surrender must not be laid to his account[466].
Masséna’s army received the news of the fall of Coimbra with indignation. It produced a painful impression on every mind; and while the rank and file murmured at the Marshal’s cruelty in abandoning their comrades to death—for it was falsely reported that the Portuguese had massacred them all—the officers blamed his blind improvidence165, and observed that a brigade might well have been spared to protect not only the hospitals but the invaluable166 base-dép?t behind them[467].
There was heavy skirmishing between the British rearguard cavalry and Montbrun’s advance, both on the 8th and 9th of October. On the first of these days the horse-artillery troop attached to Anson’s brigade was, by some extraordinary mistake, left encamped out in front of the squadrons which were told off as its escort, and was nearly surprised in Alcoentre by an[p. 413] irruption of Sainte-Croix’s dragoons in a storm of rain[468]. Somers Cocks’s squadron of the 16th Light Dragoons charged just in time to save the guns, and to jam the head of the enemy’s column, as it was crossing the bridge which leads into the village. Alcoentre was held till dusk, when Taupin’s infantry came up, and Anson’s brigade retired, having lost only one trooper wounded, while the French had sixteen disabled or taken.
From this day onward, the weather, which had been fine and dry since the army left Coimbra, broke up for the autumn rains, and the last three days of the retreat to the Lines were spent in torrential downpour. This had the advantage of delaying the French; for while the British infantry, who were two days ahead of them, reached their destined167 position on the 9th (with the exception of the Light Division and Pack’s Portuguese), the enemy was marching on flooded roads from the 8th to the 11th.
On the 9th there was continual bickering in the rain, from Quinta da Torre as far as Alemquer, between Lamotte’s light cavalry brigade, which had again replaced Sainte-Croix’s dragoons at the head of the pursuing column, and Anson’s two much-enduring regiments. On this day the 1st Hussars of the King’s German Legion had the thick of the work: Linsingen’s squadron of that admirable regiment, which formed the rear detachment of the whole army, turned back to charge no less than four times in five miles, and always with success. At dusk the French infantry got up, and the allied cavalry retired on to Alemquer after a fatiguing168 day of fighting, in which the hussars had lost two killed, two officers and nine men wounded, and seventeen missing; the supporting regiment, the 16th Light Dragoons, had one killed, three wounded, and four missing, and the Royals of Slade’s brigade, who only got engaged in the late evening, one wounded and four missing. Lamotte’s loss was a little more—six killed, twenty-two wounded, and twenty-one prisoners[469]. Three of his officers were hurt, one taken.
On the next day (Oct. 10) the whole of the British cavalry[p. 414] marched from Alemquer to within the Lines, distributing themselves to the cantonments which had been arranged for them. But Craufurd’s and Pack’s infantry, which had hitherto been completely covered by the horsemen, did not follow their example with quite sufficient promptitude, and got engaged in an unnecessary skirmish. The Light Division should have withdrawn at noon, but Craufurd, believing the French infantry to be still far away, and despising the cavalry which hovered169 around him, remained in Alemquer, intending to spend another night in a dry cantonment, for the torrential rain which was falling promised a fatiguing march to his men. At four o’clock Taupin’s infantry came up, and engaged the pickets170 of the Light Division in a skirmish. Having been strictly171 forbidden by Wellington to get entangled172 in a rearguard action, and remembering perhaps his experience at the Coa, Craufurd tardily and unwillingly173 moved off. But dusk coming on, his column missed its road, and instead of retiring into the section of the Lines which it was destined to occupy, between the Monte Agra?a and the valley of Calandriz, went too far to the west, and came in upon the position of the 1st Division in front of Sobral. This would have been dangerous if the French had had any infantry to the front, to take advantage of the unoccupied gap in the lines. But Montbrun’s advanced guard had pressed more than thirty miles in front of the main body of Masséna’s army, and this force contained nothing but cavalry, save the single brigade of Taupin—less than 3,000 men[470]. This force, such as[p. 415] it was, did not pass Alemquer that night—Craufurd, in his retreat on Sobral, was followed by cavalry alone. It was not till next morning, when Montbrun sent out reconnaissances in all directions, that he found himself in front of fortifications drawn across every road, and gradually realized that he was in front of the famous ‘Lines of Torres Vedras.’
It must not be supposed that Wellington’s final arrangements for the reception of the army of Masséna in front of Lisbon were made at leisure, or at a moment when he had nothing to distract him. Though the actual retreat of his army from the position of Bussaco to the position of Torres Vedras was conducted at an easy pace, and practically unmolested by the enemy, yet the days during which it was being carried out were a time of political, though not of military, storm and stress. Ever since the French had started from Almeida, and made their first advance into the mountains of Beira, Wellington had been engaged in an endless and tiresome174 controversy175 with the Portuguese Regency. Though they had assented176, long before, to the scheme for devastating the country-side and bringing Masséna to a check only in front of Lisbon, yet when the actual invasion began, and the first hordes177 of fugitives were reported to be leaving their homes, and burning their crops, and taking to the mountains, several of the members of the Regency became appalled178 at the awful sacrifices which they were calling upon the nation to endure. The Principal Sousa put himself at the head of the movement, and was supported by the Patriarch, the Bishop of Oporto, so famous in 1808. Sousa brought before the Regency proposals that Wellington should be formally requested to try the chances of a pitched battle on the frontier, before retiring on Coimbra or Lisbon. In addition, he was always maintaining in private company that the people should not be required to take in hand the scheme of devastation and wholesale179 emigration, till it was certain the allied army was unable to stop Masséna somewhere east of the Serra da Estrella. He also laid before the Regency documents intended to prove that the system of devastation was physically180 impossible, and that it would prove incapable181 of stopping the advance of the French, owing to the difficulty that would be found in persuading the peasantry to destroy instead of hiding their[p. 416] stores of food[471]. There was a certain modicum182 of truth in this last argument, and the French did succeed in living for a longer time in the evacuated districts than Wellington had considered possible. On the other hand, the Principal was hopelessly wrong in his contention183 that the French would suffer little inconvenience. They were starved out of Portugal by Wellington’s device, even though it took longer to work out its results than he had calculated. There is no reason to suppose that Sousa was in any way treacherously184 inclined: he and his whole family stood or fell with the English alliance, and the victory of the French would mean ruin to them. But his private and public utterances185 and those of his satellites had a deplorable effect. In the mouth of the common people it took the form of a widely-spread rumour that Wellington had refused to fight at all, and intended to re-embark the British army. This did not lead to any wish to submit to Napoleon, but to a desperate determination to resist even if deserted. Wellington’s dispatches are full of a riot which took place in Lisbon on September 7th, when the militia proposed to seize on St. Julian’s, the Citadel186, and the Bugio fort because they were informed that the English garrisons187 were about to evacuate them and put to sea[472]. When Masséna had already passed Coimbra, Sousa was mad enough to propose, at the Regency board, that the Portuguese troops should not retire within the Lines, but remain outside and offer battle in the open, even if the British refused to stand by them. The nervous activity of the government had been shown some three weeks before by the sudden arrest and deportation188 of some fifty persons in Lisbon, who were suspected, rightly or wrongly, of ‘Jacobinism,’ and had been accused of having secret communication with d’Alorna and the other renegades in Masséna’s army. They included a few officers, and a good many lawyers, doctors, merchants, and minor officials, as well as some dependants189 and[p. 417] relatives of the exiles. The case against most of them was so weak that Wellington protested against their banishment190, holding that the alarm caused by the arrests would make the people of Lisbon unreasonably191 suspicious, and give rise to a belief in wide-spread plots. But despite his letter to the Regency all were shipped off to the Azores[473]. Some were ultimately allowed to go to England, others to Brazil, but the majority were not allowed to return to Portugal till 1816.
‘All I ask from the Government,’ wrote Wellington, on October 6th, in the midst of the retreat, ‘is tranquillity192 in the town of Lisbon, and provisions for their own troops[474].’ These two simple requirements were precisely those which he did not obtain. The capital of Portugal was kept disturbed by arbitrary arrests, by proclamations which often contained false news, and sometimes pledged the Regency to measures which the Commander-in-Chief disapproved193, and by senseless embargoes194 laid on vehicles and commodities, which were never turned to use[475]. At the same time the Portuguese troops were not fed, and the tents which had been ordered forward to the positions behind the lines never started from the magazines of Lisbon[476].
Wellington’s temper, tried to the uttermost by these distractions195, when his mind was entirely engrossed196 by military problems, grew sharp and irritable197 at this time. He went so far as to write to the Prince Regent at Rio de Janeiro, to declare that either he or Principal Sousa must leave the country. He suggested that some post as ambassador or special envoy198 should be found for the man who troubled him so. The Patriarch, as ‘a necessary evil,’ he did not wish to displace, but only to scare. Unfortunately, an appeal to Brazil was hopeless, since the Regent was entirely in the hands of the Principal’s brother, the Conde de Linhares. Much acrimonious199 correspondence, delayed by the vast time which was consumed in getting letters[p. 418] to and from Rio, only led in the end to a proposal from Linhares that his brother should leave the Regency, if Charles Stuart, the British Ambassador, was also withdrawn from it, and if the War-Minister, General Miguel Forjaz, whom Wellington considered a necessary person and the ablest man in Portugal, should also be removed from his post[477]. To this proposal neither Wellington nor the British government would consent, and as it only came in when Masséna’s invasion had already been foiled, and the French had retired into Spain, the crisis was over. The Principal remained at the Council Board, to talk much impracticable and mischievous stuff, but to do little positive harm. When the invasion was past Wellington could afford to disregard him.
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receding
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| v.逐渐远离( recede的现在分词 )；向后倾斜；自原处后退或避开别人的注视；尤指问题 | |
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repulsed
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| v.击退( repulse的过去式和过去分词 )；驳斥；拒绝 | |
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backwards
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| adv.往回地，向原处，倒，相反，前后倒置地 | |
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disastrous
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| adj.灾难性的，造成灾害的；极坏的，很糟的 | |
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adviser
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| n.劝告者，顾问 | |
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obstinate
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| adj.顽固的，倔强的，不易屈服的，较难治愈的 | |
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mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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rations
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| 定量( ration的名词复数 )； 配给量； 正常量； 合理的量 | |
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promising
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| adj.有希望的，有前途的 | |
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cavalry
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| n.骑兵；轻装甲部队 | |
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allied
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| adj.协约国的；同盟国的 | |
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Ford
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| n.浅滩，水浅可涉处；v.涉水，涉过 | |
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standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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ridge
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| n.山脊；鼻梁；分水岭 | |
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uneven
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| adj.不平坦的，不规则的，不均匀的 | |
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circuitous
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| adj.迂回的路的，迂曲的，绕行的 | |
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inaccurate
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| adj.错误的，不正确的，不准确的 | |
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rugged
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| adj.高低不平的，粗糙的，粗壮的，强健的 | |
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precipices
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| n.悬崖，峭壁( precipice的名词复数 ) | |
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artillery
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| n.(军)火炮，大炮；炮兵(部队) | |
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affluents
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| n.富裕的，富足的( affluent的名词复数 ) | |
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perspicacity
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| n. 敏锐, 聪明, 洞察力 | |
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narratives
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| 记叙文( narrative的名词复数 )； 故事； 叙述； 叙述部分 | |
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deserted
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| adj.荒芜的，荒废的，无人的，被遗弃的 | |
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villa
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| n.别墅，城郊小屋 | |
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Portuguese
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| n.葡萄牙人；葡萄牙语 | |
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habitually
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waggons
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| 四轮的运货马车( waggon的名词复数 )； 铁路货车； 小手推车 | |
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29
perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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30
utilize
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| vt.使用，利用 | |
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31
retired
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| adj.隐退的，退休的，退役的 | |
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32
descend
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| vt./vi.传下来，下来，下降 | |
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33
invaders
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| 入侵者，侵略者，侵入物( invader的名词复数 ) | |
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34
invader
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| n.侵略者，侵犯者，入侵者 | |
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35
withdrawn
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| vt.收回；使退出；vi.撤退，退出 | |
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36
drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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37
possessed
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| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
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38
precisely
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| adv.恰好，正好，精确地，细致地 | |
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39
considerably
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| adv.极大地；相当大地；在很大程度上 | |
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40
perilous
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| adj.危险的，冒险的 | |
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41
incurred
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| [医]招致的，遭受的； incur的过去式 | |
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42
ridges
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| n.脊( ridge的名词复数 )；山脊；脊状突起；大气层的)高压脊 | |
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43
assailed
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| v.攻击( assail的过去式和过去分词 )；困扰；质问；毅然应对 | |
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44
infinitely
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| adv.无限地，无穷地 | |
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45
defensive
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| adj.防御的；防卫的；防守的 | |
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46
favourable
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| adj.赞成的，称赞的，有利的，良好的，顺利的 | |
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47
debouch
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| v.流出，进入 | |
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48
defile
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| v.弄污，弄脏；n.(山间)小道 | |
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49
worthy
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| adj.(of)值得的，配得上的；有价值的 | |
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50
demonstrations
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| 证明( demonstration的名词复数 )； 表明； 表达； 游行示威 | |
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51
impending
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| a.imminent, about to come or happen | |
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52
trenches
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| 深沟，地沟( trench的名词复数 )； 战壕 | |
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53
infantry
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| n.[总称]步兵(部队) | |
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54
ascertained
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| v.弄清，确定，查明( ascertain的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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55
dictated
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| v.大声讲或读( dictate的过去式和过去分词 )；口授；支配；摆布 | |
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56
corps
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| n.(通信等兵种的)部队；(同类作的)一组 | |
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57
lavished
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| v.过分给予，滥施( lavish的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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58
vaguely
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| adv.含糊地，暖昧地 | |
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59
thither
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|
| adv.向那里；adj.在那边的，对岸的 | |
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60
militia
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| n.民兵，民兵组织 | |
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61
devastating
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| adj.毁灭性的，令人震惊的，强有力的 | |
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62
granite
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| adj.花岗岩，花岗石 | |
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63
boulders
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|
| n.卵石( boulder的名词复数 )；巨砾；（受水或天气侵蚀而成的）巨石；漂砾 | |
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64
descending
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| n. 下行 adj. 下降的 | |
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65
converging
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|
| adj.收敛[缩]的，会聚的，趋同的v.（线条、运动的物体等）会于一点( converge的现在分词 )；（趋于）相似或相同；人或车辆汇集；聚集 | |
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66
fortified
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| adj. 加强的 | |
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67
determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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68
northward
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| adv.向北；n.北方的地区 | |
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69
embarkation
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| n. 乘船, 搭机, 开船 | |
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70
embark
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| vi.乘船，着手，从事，上飞机 | |
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71
steadily
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| adv.稳定地；不变地；持续地 | |
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72
regiment
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| n.团，多数，管理；v.组织，编成团，统制 | |
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73
regiments
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| （军队的）团( regiment的名词复数 )； 大量的人或物 | |
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74
justify
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| vt.证明…正当(或有理)，为…辩护 | |
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75
molest
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| vt.骚扰，干扰，调戏 | |
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76
evacuated
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| 撤退者的 | |
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77
evacuate
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| v.遣送；搬空；抽出；排泄；大(小)便 | |
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78
desperately
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|
| adv.极度渴望地，绝望地，孤注一掷地 | |
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79
mules
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| 骡( mule的名词复数 )； 拖鞋； 顽固的人； 越境运毒者 | |
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80
exasperated
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|
| adj.恼怒的 | |
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81
intermittent
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|
| adj.间歇的，断断续续的 | |
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82
convoy
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| vt.护送，护卫，护航；n.护送；护送队 | |
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83
watershed
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| n.转折点，分水岭，分界线 | |
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84
onward
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|
| adj.向前的，前进的；adv.向前，前进，在先 | |
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85
battalion
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| n.营；部队；大队(的人) | |
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86
bickering
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|
| v.争吵( bicker的现在分词 )；口角；（水等）作潺潺声；闪烁 | |
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87
exhausted
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|
| adj.极其疲惫的，精疲力尽的 | |
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88
maize
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| n.玉米 | |
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89
eke
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|
| v.勉强度日，节约使用 | |
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90
hoarded
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|
| v.积蓄并储藏（某物）( hoard的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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91
distressing
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| a.使人痛苦的 | |
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92
abodes
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| 住所( abode的名词复数 )； 公寓； （在某地的）暂住； 逗留 | |
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93
devastation
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|
| n.毁坏；荒废；极度震惊或悲伤 | |
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94
obedience
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|
| n.服从，顺从 | |
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95
dwellings
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|
| n.住处，处所( dwelling的名词复数 ) | |
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96
dense
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|
| a.密集的，稠密的，浓密的；密度大的 | |
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97
fugitives
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|
| n.亡命者，逃命者( fugitive的名词复数 ) | |
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98
conveyances
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| n.传送( conveyance的名词复数 )；运送；表达；运输工具 | |
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99
disorder
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|
| n.紊乱，混乱；骚动，骚乱；疾病，失调 | |
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100
robust
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|
| adj.强壮的，强健的，粗野的，需要体力的，浓的 | |
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101
bereft
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|
| adj.被剥夺的 | |
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102
exodus
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|
| v.大批离去，成群外出 | |
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103
ascent
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|
| n.(声望或地位)提高；上升，升高；登高 | |
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104
leisurely
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|
| adj.悠闲的；从容的，慢慢的 | |
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105
insignificant
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|
| adj.无关紧要的，可忽略的，无意义的 | |
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106
disorders
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| n.混乱( disorder的名词复数 )；凌乱；骚乱；（身心、机能）失调 | |
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107
larder
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| n.食物贮藏室，食品橱 | |
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108
garnished
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| v.给（上餐桌的食物）加装饰( garnish的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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109
quays
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| 码头( quay的名词复数 ) | |
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110
remains
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|
| n.剩余物，残留物；遗体，遗迹 | |
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111
entirely
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|
| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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112
battalions
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| n.（陆军的）一营（大约有一千兵士）( battalion的名词复数 )；协同作战的部队；军队；（组织在一起工作的）队伍 | |
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113
plunder
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|
| vt.劫掠财物，掠夺；n.劫掠物，赃物；劫掠 | |
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114
sentry
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| n.哨兵，警卫 | |
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115
pillage
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| v.抢劫；掠夺；n.抢劫，掠夺；掠夺物 | |
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116
arson
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| n.纵火，放火 | |
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117
mischievous
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|
| adj.调皮的，恶作剧的，有害的，伤人的 | |
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118
tardily
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| adv.缓慢 | |
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119
wrecked
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| adj.失事的，遇难的 | |
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120
desecrated
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| 毁坏或亵渎( desecrate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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121
sufficiently
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| adv.足够地，充分地 | |
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122
adversary
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|
| adj.敌手，对手 | |
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123
pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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124
erred
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| 犯错误，做错事( err的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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125
thoroughly
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| adv.完全地，彻底地，十足地 | |
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126
majesty
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|
| n.雄伟，壮丽，庄严，威严；最高权威，王权 | |
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127
verge
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| n.边，边缘；v.接近，濒临 | |
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128
temerity
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| n.鲁莽，冒失 | |
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129
minor
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| adj.较小(少)的，较次要的；n.辅修学科；vi.辅修 | |
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130
garrison
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| n.卫戍部队；驻地，卫戍区；vt.派(兵)驻防 | |
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131
draught
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| n.拉，牵引，拖；一网（饮，吸，阵)；顿服药量，通风；v.起草，设计 | |
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132
rumour
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| n.谣言，谣传，传闻 | |
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133
naval
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| adj.海军的，军舰的，船的 | |
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134
nucleus
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| n.核，核心，原子核 | |
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135
arsenal
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| n.兵工厂，军械库 | |
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136
disposition
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| n.性情，性格；意向，倾向；排列，部署 | |
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137
muskets
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| n.火枪，（尤指）滑膛枪( musket的名词复数 ) | |
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138
destitute
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|
| adj.缺乏的；穷困的 | |
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139
scouts
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| 侦察员[机，舰]( scout的名词复数 )； 童子军； 搜索； 童子军成员 | |
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140
bickered
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| v.争吵( bicker的过去式和过去分词 )；口角；（水等）作潺潺声；闪烁 | |
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141
plundering
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| 掠夺，抢劫( plunder的现在分词 ) | |
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142
monasteries
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| 修道院( monastery的名词复数 ) | |
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143
inmates
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| n.囚犯( inmate的名词复数 ) | |
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144
tempting
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| a.诱人的, 吸引人的 | |
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145
mischief
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|
| n.损害，伤害，危害；恶作剧，捣蛋，胡闹 | |
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146
chapel
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| n.小教堂，殡仪馆 | |
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147
specially
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|
| adv.特定地；特殊地；明确地 | |
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148
addicted
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|
| adj.沉溺于....的，对...上瘾的 | |
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149
adventurous
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| adj.爱冒险的；惊心动魄的，惊险的，刺激的 | |
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150
inevitable
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|
| adj.不可避免的，必然发生的 | |
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151
spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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152
monastery
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| n.修道院，僧院，寺院 | |
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153
disquieting
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|
| adj.令人不安的，令人不平静的v.使不安，使忧虑，使烦恼( disquiet的现在分词 ) | |
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154
partisan
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| adj.党派性的；游击队的；n.游击队员；党徒 | |
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155
miller
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| n.磨坊主 | |
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156
descended
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| a.为...后裔的，出身于...的 | |
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157
dreaded
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|
| adj.令人畏惧的；害怕的v.害怕，恐惧，担心( dread的过去式和过去分词) | |
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158
sweeping
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| adj.范围广大的，一扫无遗的 | |
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159
galloped
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| （使马）飞奔，奔驰( gallop的过去式和过去分词 )； 快速做[说]某事 | |
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bishop
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| n.主教，（国际象棋）象 | |
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161
discretion
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| n.谨慎；随意处理 | |
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162
redeem
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| v.买回，赎回，挽回，恢复，履行（诺言等） | |
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163
enraged
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| 使暴怒( enrage的过去式和过去分词 )； 歜； 激愤 | |
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164
deliberately
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| adv.审慎地；蓄意地；故意地 | |
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165
improvidence
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| n.目光短浅 | |
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166
invaluable
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| adj.无价的，非常宝贵的，极为贵重的 | |
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167
destined
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| adj.命中注定的；(for)以…为目的地的 | |
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168
fatiguing
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| a.使人劳累的 | |
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169
hovered
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| 鸟( hover的过去式和过去分词 )； 靠近（某事物）； （人）徘徊； 犹豫 | |
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170
pickets
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| 罢工纠察员( picket的名词复数 ) | |
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171
strictly
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| adv.严厉地，严格地；严密地 | |
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172
entangled
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| adj.卷入的；陷入的；被缠住的；缠在一起的v.使某人（某物/自己）缠绕，纠缠于（某物中），使某人（自己）陷入（困难或复杂的环境中）( entangle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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173
unwillingly
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| adv.不情愿地 | |
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174
tiresome
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| adj.令人疲劳的，令人厌倦的 | |
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175
controversy
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| n.争论，辩论，争吵 | |
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176
assented
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| 同意，赞成( assent的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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177
hordes
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| n.移动着的一大群( horde的名词复数 )；部落 | |
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178
appalled
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| v.使惊骇，使充满恐惧( appall的过去式和过去分词)adj.惊骇的；丧胆的 | |
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179
wholesale
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| n.批发；adv.以批发方式；vt.批发，成批出售 | |
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180
physically
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| adj.物质上，体格上，身体上，按自然规律 | |
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181
incapable
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| adj.无能力的，不能做某事的 | |
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182
modicum
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| n.少量，一小份 | |
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183
contention
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| n.争论，争辩，论战；论点，主张 | |
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184
treacherously
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| 背信弃义地； 背叛地； 靠不住地； 危险地 | |
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185
utterances
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| n.发声( utterance的名词复数 )；说话方式；语调；言论 | |
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186
citadel
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| n.城堡；堡垒；避难所 | |
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187
garrisons
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| 守备部队，卫戍部队( garrison的名词复数 ) | |
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188
deportation
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| n.驱逐，放逐 | |
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189
dependants
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| 受赡养者，受扶养的家属( dependant的名词复数 ) | |
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190
banishment
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| n.放逐，驱逐 | |
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191
unreasonably
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| adv. 不合理地 | |
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192
tranquillity
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| n. 平静, 安静 | |
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193
disapproved
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| v.不赞成( disapprove的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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194
embargoes
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| 贸易禁运令，禁运( embargo的名词复数 ) | |
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195
distractions
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| n.使人分心的事[人]( distraction的名词复数 )；娱乐，消遣；心烦意乱；精神错乱 | |
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196
engrossed
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| adj.全神贯注的 | |
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197
irritable
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| adj.急躁的；过敏的；易怒的 | |
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198
envoy
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| n.使节，使者，代表，公使 | |
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199
acrimonious
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| adj.严厉的，辛辣的，刻毒的 | |
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