CHAPTER VII

THE BATTLE OF SALAMANCA: THE MAIN ENGAGEMENT

We must now turn from the exploits of Pakenham and the 3rd Division to deal with the great central attack of Wellington’s frontal striking force, the 5th and 4th Divisions, under Leith and Cole, upon the French left centre. They had been told to move on when Bradford’s Portuguese brigade should be sufficiently near to cover the right flank of the 5th Division, and the necessity of waiting for this support caused their attack to be delivered perceptibly later than that of Pakenham. Leith had drawn out his division in two lines, the first consisting of Greville’s brigade (3/1st, 1/9th, and both battalions of the 38th) and the first battalion of the 4th, brought up from the rear brigade (Pringle’s) to equalize the front of the two lines: the second consisted of the rest of that brigade (the second battalion of the 4th, the 2/30th, and 2/44th) and the Portuguese of Spry (3rd and 15th Line). There was a heavy skirmishing line in front, composed of all the British light companies and the 8th Caçadores[553]. Cole had a smaller force, as his left brigade (Anson’s) had been told off to the defence of the British Arapile: the 3/27th was holding that rocky knoll, the 1/40th was at its foot in support. Only therefore the Fusilier brigade (under Ellis of the 23rd) and Stubbs’s Portuguese formed the attacking force. They were in a single line of seven battalions, with a heavy skirmishing screen composed of four light companies and the whole of the 7th Caçadores[554]. The Fusilier brigade of the 4th Division went through the end of the village of Arapiles, which it did by files from the right of companies, the companies forming up again on the east side of the place, upon their sergeants regularly sent out as markers. This defile delayed the advance of the division, which therefore attacked decidedly later than Leith’s men, the joint movement being in an échelon, with the right leading and the left considerably refused. It was obvious that when the 4th Division drew near to the French line on the plateau, it would be exposing its left flank to the hostile division (Bonnet’s) which was massed on and near the Greater Arapile. Wellington had noted this, and had given special discretionary orders to Pack, directing him to use his independent brigade for the sole purpose of protecting the near flank of the 4th Division; he might attack the Arapile, as the best means of holding back Bonnet from descending against Cole’s line, or might manœuvre below the knoll for the same purpose. When the dangerous moment came, Pack, as we shall see, took the bull by the horns, and assailed the precipitous height in front with his whole 2,000 men.

[553] All this from Leith Hay, ii. p. 53. The 1/38th had joined from Lisbon only twelve hours back.

[554] This is proved by the narrative of the Brunswick captain, Wachholz, who commanded the company of that corps attached to the Fusilier brigade.

In the rear of the 4th Division the 6th was now coming up the back slope of the hill behind the Arapile in second line: similarly the 7th Division was following the 5th. To the right of the 7th, Stapleton Cotton was moving up from Las Torres with the cavalry reserve, now consisting only of the six regiments of Le Marchant and G. Anson. Bradford, more to the right still, and not yet in line with Leith and Cole, moved with España’s small Spanish division behind him.

Of Wellington’s front line Leith with the 5th Division had Maucune in front of him: Cole would have to deal with Clausel, who had arrived late on the ground, and was only just taking up his position on the extreme right end of the French plateau. Pack and W. Anson’s detached brigade from the 4th Division, with the Lesser Arapile in their power, looked across the valley at Bonnet, massed around its greater twin-hill. The British attacking line was amply provided with reserves: the defensive line of the French was still very thin, though Brennier’s division was hurrying up from the head of the wood to support Maucune. Sarrut’s division was still invisible in the forest far to the rear: Ferey’s was better seen--it was hastening up across the open ground on its way from the extreme French right, but must obviously be too late to join in meeting Wellington’s first attack.

The roar of the cannon and musketry away in the direction of the Pico de Miranda had been announcing for some time that Pakenham was at close grips with Thomières, before Leith marched down from his heights to cross the valley that separated him from Maucune’s position. Soon after five, however, the 5th Division was in close contact with the enemy, having suffered a considerable amount of casualties in reaching him, mainly from the very superior French artillery fire, which swept every yard of the glacis-like slope that ascends from the bottom of the Arapiles valley to the brow of the plateau that forms its southern limit.

‘The ground,’ writes Leith Hay, ‘between the advancing force and that which it was to assail was crowded by the light troops of both sides in extended order, carrying on a very incessant _tiraillade_. The general desired me to ride forward, to make our light infantry press up the heights to cover his line of march, and to bid them, if practicable, make a rush at the enemy’s guns. Our light troops soon drove in those opposed to them: the cannon were removed to the rear: every obstruction to the general advance of our line vanished. In front of the centre of that beautiful line rode General Leith, directing its movements. Occasionally every soldier was visible, the sun shining bright upon their arms, though at intervals all were enveloped in a dense cloud of dust, from whence at times issued the animating cheer of the British infantry.

[Illustration: SALAMANCA]

‘The French columns, retired from the crest of the heights, were formed in squares, about fifty yards behind the line at which, when arrived, the British regiments would become visible. Their artillery, although placed more to the rear, still poured its fire upon our advancing troops. We were now near the summit of the ridge. The men marched with the same orderly steadiness as at the first: no advance in line at a review was ever more correctly executed: the dressing was admirable, and the gaps caused by casualties were filled up with the most perfect regularity. General Leith and the officers of his staff, being on horseback, first perceived the enemy, and had time to observe his formation, before our infantry line became so visible as to induce him to commence firing. He was drawn up in contiguous squares, the front rank kneeling, and prepared to fire when the drum should beat. All was still and quiet in these squares: not a musket was discharged until the whole opened. Nearly at the same instant General Leith ordered our line to fire and charge. At this moment the last thing I saw through the smoke was the plunge of the horse of Colonel Greville, commanding the leading brigade, who, shot through the head, reared and fell back on his rider. In an instant every individual present was enveloped in smoke and obscurity. No serious struggle for ascendancy followed, for the French squares were penetrated, broken, and discomfited, and the victorious 5th Division pressed forward no longer against troops formed up, but against a mass of disorganized men flying in all directions.... When close to the enemy’s squares Leith had been severely wounded and reluctantly forced to quit the field; at the same moment I was hit myself, and my horse killed by a musket-ball: thus removed, I cannot detail the further movements of the division[555].’

[555] Leith Hay, ii. pp. 57-8.

In this clear and simple narrative the most remarkable point is Leith Hay’s distinct statement that the French received the charge of the 5th Division in a line of squares, a most strange formation to adopt against infantry advancing deployed, even when it was supplemented by a strong screen of _tirailleurs_, and flanked by several batteries of artillery. It is possible that Maucune adopted it because, from his commanding position on the plateau, he could see a considerable body of cavalry coming up on Leith’s right rear. This was composed of the brigades of Le Marchant and G. Anson, which Stapleton Cotton was bringing up to the front by Wellington’s orders. While Leith was advancing they pressed forward, Le Marchant leading, and passed up the hill in the interval between the 5th Division and Pakenham’s front--leaving behind them Bradford, who had crossed the valley parallel to, but much behind, the right of Leith. Bradford had no solid body of troops in front of him, being outside Maucune’s extreme left, and suffered practically no loss--the total casualty list of his brigade that day was only seventeen men. This contrasts marvellously with the loss of Leith’s front line, where Greville’s brigade in their triumphant advance lost 350 men--mainly from the artillery fire endured while the long slope of the French plateau was being mounted: for there were at least four batteries aligned on Maucune’s right, and their guns had been worked till the last possible minute.

Whatever was the cause of the formation in square adopted by the French division, it would have been fortunate if only it could have preserved that formation a little longer; for precisely when it had lost its order, and fallen back before Leith’s shattering volleys of musketry, Le Marchant’s heavy dragoons arrived upon the crest of the plateau. No better opportunity for the use of cavalry could have been conceived, than that which existed at this moment. Infantry already engaged with, and worsted by, other infantry is the destined prey of cavalry coming on the scene from the flank in unbroken order. Le Marchant had received his instructions directly from Wellington, who had told him to ‘charge in at all hazards[556],’ when he saw the French battalions on the plateau hotly engaged. He had formed his 1,000 sabres in two lines, the 5th Dragoon Guards and 4th Dragoons in front, the 3rd Dragoons in support, and had come over the sky-line and trotted down into the valley just as Leith’s division got to close quarters with Maucune. Passing Bradford on his right, he came to the crest to find all confusion in front of him. The squares that Leith had just broken were rolling back in disorder: directly behind a new division (Brennier’s), only just arriving upon the field, was beginning to form up, to cover and support the shaken battalions. Some distance to their left rear the remains of Thomières’s division, in a disorderly crowd, were falling back in front of the triumphant advance of Pakenham.

[556] See Le Marchant’s _Life_, from notes supplied by his son, in Cole’s _Peninsular Generals_, ii. p. 281.

Le Marchant charged in diagonally upon the flank of Maucune’s left brigade, and caught the two battalions of the 66th regiment falling back from the crest. The Frenchmen were courageous enough to make a desperate attempt to club themselves together in a solid mass: their rear ranks faced about and opened a heavy fire upon the advancing squadrons. But it was given with uncertain aim and trifling effect, and before they could reload the dragoons were among them. A desperate minority attempted to resist with the bayonet, and were sabred: some hundreds cast down their muskets, raised their hands, and asked quarter. The rear ranks scattered and fled southward across the plateau. Leaving the gathering up of the prisoners to the infantry of Leith, Le Marchant led his brigade, so soon as some order could be restored, against the next regiment of Maucune’s division, the 15th Line; they were better prepared for resistance than the 66th, which had been caught quite unawares, they showed a regular front, and gave a more effective fire. Many of the dragoons fell; but nevertheless their impetus carried them through the mass, which went to pieces and dispersed into a disorderly crowd: it fled in the same direction as the wrecks of the 66th.

Le Marchant’s brigade had now lost its formation, ‘the three regiments had become mixed together, the officers rode where they could find places: but a good front, without intervals, was still maintained, and there was no confusion[557].’ In front of them there was now a fresh enemy--the 22nd Line, the leading regiment of the division of Brennier, which had just arrived on the field, and was getting into order to save and support Maucune’s routed battalions. It would seem that in the midst of the dust and smoke, and surrounded and interfered with by the fugitives of the broken regiments, the 22nd had either no time or no good opportunity for forming squares: they were found in _colonne serrée_, in good order, partly covered by a clump of trees, an outlying thicket from the great forest to their rear. They reserved their fire, with great composure, till the dragoons were within ten yards distance, and poured a volley so close and well aimed upon the leading squadron [5th Dragoon Guards] that nearly a fourth of them fell. Tremendous as was the effect of the discharge, the dragoons were not arrested: they broke in through the opposing bayonets, and plunged into the dense masses of the enemy. In the combat which ensued, broadsword and bayonet were used against each other with various results: the French, hewn down and trampled under the horses’ feet, offered all the resistance that brave men could make. Le Marchant himself had some narrow escapes--he fought like a private, and had to cut down more than one of the enemy. It was only after a fierce struggle that the French yielded, and he had the satisfaction of seeing them fly before him in helpless confusion. The brigade had now lost all order: the dragoons, excited by the struggle, vied with each other in the pursuit, and galloped recklessly into the crowd of fugitives, sabring those who came within their reach. To restrain them at such a moment was beyond the power of their officers[558].’

[557] _Life of Le Marchant_, p. 285.

[558] _Life of Le Marchant_, pp. 286-7.

Le Marchant endeavoured to keep a few men in hand, in order to guard against any attempt of the French to rally, but he had only about half a squadron of the 4th Dragoons with him, when he came upon some companies which were beginning to re-form in the edge of the great wood. He led his party against them, and drove them back among the trees, where they dispersed. But at the moment of contact he was shot dead, by a ball which entered his groin and broke his spine. Thus fell an officer of whom great things had been expected by all who knew him, in the moment when he had just obtained and used to the full his first chance of leading his brigade in a general action. One of the few scientific soldiers in the cavalry arm whom the British army owned, Le Marchant had been mainly known as the founder and administrator of the Royal Military College at High Wycombe, which was already beginning to send to the front many young officers trained as their predecessors had never been. He was the author of many military pamphlets, and of a new system of sword exercise which had lately been adopted for the cavalry[559]. On his promotion to the rank of Major-General, in 1811, he had been unexpectedly sent to the Peninsula in command of the heavy brigade, which reinforced Wellington during that autumn. As an executive commander in the field he had given the first proofs of his ability at the combat of Villagarcia[560]--but this was a small affair--at Salamanca he proved himself a born commander of cavalry, and his services would have been invaluable to Wellington in later fields but for the disastrous shot that ended his career. He was a man of a lofty and religious spirit, ill to be spared by his country[561].

[559] Le Marchant was also an admirable artist in water colours. I saw many of his pleasing sketches of Peninsular landscapes when his grandson, Sir Henry Le Marchant, allowed me to look through his correspondence and notes.

[560] See p. 277 above.

[561] I have read with respect his admirable letters to his family. ‘I never go into battle,’ he said, ‘without subjecting myself to a strict self-examination: when, having (as I hope) humbly made my peace with God, I leave the result in His hands, with perfect confidence that He will determine what is best for me.’

Le Marchant’s charge made a complete wreck of the left wing of the French army. The remnants of the eight battalions which he had broken fled eastward in a confused mass, towards the edge of the woods, becoming blended with the separate stream of fugitives from Thomières’s division. The 5th Division swept in some 1,500 prisoners from them, as also the eagle of the 22nd Line, which the heavy brigade had broken in their last effort, while five guns were taken by the 4th Dragoons[562]. The French, flying blindly from the pursuit, were so scattered that some of them actually ran in headlong among D’Urban’s Portuguese horse, on the back side of the plateau. ‘We were so far in their rear,’ writes that officer, ‘that a mass of their routed infantry (to our astonishment, since we did not know the cause) in the wildness of their panic and confusion, and throwing away their arms, actually ran against our horses, where many of them fell down exhausted, and incapable of further movement.’ The same happened in the front of the 3rd Division, where, according to a narrator in the Connaught Rangers, ‘hundreds of men frightfully disfigured, black with dust, worn out with fatigue, and covered with sabre-cuts and blood, threw themselves among us for safety.’

[562] It is vexatious to find that neither the 22nd nor the 66th was among the fourteen Salamanca regiments of which detailed casualty lists survive. The 15th Line returned 15 officers and 359 men as their loss. Martinien’s tables show 21 officers lost in the 22nd, and 17 in the 66th. The deficits of these two regiments as shown by the muster-rolls of August 1 were respectively about 750 and 500, but these do not represent their total losses, as all the regiments present at the battle had picked up many men at their dépôts at Valladolid, and from the small evacuated posts, before August 1, e.g. the 15th had 52 officers present on July 15, lost 15 at Salamanca, but showed 46 present on August 1; 9 officers must have joined from somewhere in the interim. So the 66th had 38 officers present on July 15, lost 17, but showed 34 present on August 1. Thirteen more must have arrived, and accompanied of course by the corresponding rank and file.

The 3rd Division had now, in its advance along the plateau, come in contact with the right flank of the fifth, and both of them fell into one line reaching across the whole breadth of the heights, while in front of them were recoiling the wrecks of Thomières, Maucune, and Brennier. The four French regiments which had not been caught in Le Marchant’s charge were still keeping together, and making occasional attempts at a stand, but were always outflanked on their left by the 3rd Division and Arentschildt’s and D’Urban’s horse. Curto’s French light cavalry had rallied, and picked up their second brigade, and were now doing their best to cover the southern flank of the retreating multitude[563]. An officer of one of their regiments speaks in his memoirs of having charged with advantage against red dragoons--these must apparently have been scattered parties of Le Marchant’s brigade, pursuing far and furiously, since no other red-coated cavalry was in this part of the field[564]. But Curto’s squadrons had mainly to do with Arentschildt and D’Urban, both of whom report sharp fighting with French horse at this moment. The 3rd French Hussars charged the 1st Hussars K.G.L., while the latter were employed in gleaning prisoners from the routed infantry, and were only driven off after a severe combat[565]. The pursuit then continued until the disordered French masses were driven off the plateau, and on to the wooded hills parallel with the Greater Arapile, where Marmont had massed his army before his fatal move to the left.

[563] The regiments of Maucune’s brigade, which did not get caught in the cavalry charge (82nd and 86th), lost only 8 and 3 officers respectively, as against the 15 and 17 lost by the 66th and 15th. Of Brennier’s division the 22nd Line had 21 casualties among officers, while the 65th and 17th Léger had only 3 and 9 respectively.

[564] So Parquin of the 13th Chasseurs in his _Mémoires_, p. 302. The only other red-coated dragoons in Wellington’s army, Bock’s brigade, were far away to the left.

[565] Arentschildt reports that his and D’Urban’s men were all mixed and busy with the French infantry, when the French hussars charged in, and that he rallied, to beat them off, a body composed mostly of his own Germans, but with Portuguese and 14th Light Dragoons among them.

Meanwhile the 4th Division and Pack’s Portuguese had fought, with much less fortunate results, against the French divisions of Clausel and Bonnet. There are good narratives of their advance from three officers who took part in it, all so full and clear that it is impossible to have any doubts about its details. One comes from the Assistant Quarter-Master-General of the 4th Division, Charles Vere: the second is from the captain commanding one of the four light companies of the Fusilier brigade, Ludwig von Wachholz of the Brunswick-Oels Jägers: the third is the narrative of Pack’s aide-de-camp, Charles Synge, who was with the front line of the Portuguese in their vigorous but unsuccessful attack on the Greater Arapile. The three narratives have nothing contradictory in them.

The sequence of events was as follows. After deploying the three battalions of the Fusilier brigade (1/7th, 1/23rd, 1/48th) beyond the end of the village of Arapiles, and Stubbs’s Portuguese brigade to their left, Cole started to cross the valley, having a very strong skirmishing line, composed of the whole of the 7th Caçadores and of the four light companies of the British brigade. During the first stage of the advance, which started at 5.45[566], a perceptible time after that of the 5th Division, the two brigades suffered severely from French artillery fire, but had no infantry opposed to them. Their objective was the division of Clausel, which had by this time come into line on the extreme eastern end of the plateau occupied by Maucune. When the advancing line had reached the trough of the valley which separated it from the French heights, Cole saw that his left front was faced by a detached French force[567] on a low rocky ridge half-way between the end of the plateau and the Great Arapile, and also that behind the Arapile, and in a position to support this detachment, were several other French battalions. Pack was deploying to assault the Arapile, but even if he won a first success there was visible a considerable mass of troops behind it. After the valley was crossed Stubbs’s Portuguese brigade, coming first into action, with the caçadores in front, attacked the French regiment on the knoll and drove it back. It retired towards the Arapile and the bulk of Bonnet’s division, to which it belonged. Cole detached his caçador battalion to follow it, hoping that Pack might succeed in ‘containing’ the rest of the French force in this direction. The remainder of his line pushed on, with the light companies of the Fusilier brigade acting as its screen, and attacked Clausel on the plateau. The advance was steady, but cost many lives, and the line was enfiladed by a tiresome flank fire from the French guns on the top of the Great Arapile. Nevertheless the crest was reached--on it lay the front line of the French division--five battalions--which engaged in a furious frontal combat of musketry with the Fusiliers and their Portuguese comrades, but was beaten in it, and fell back some 200 yards on to its reserves. The impetus of the attack was exhausted, Cole had just been wounded, so that there was a gap in the command, and the troops were re-forming and recovering their breath, when it was seen that things were going very badly behind and to the left. The attack on the Arapile had by this time been delivered, and had failed completely.

[566] The moment is fixed by Wachholz, who says that he looked at his watch, to fix the hour.

[567] This was the 122nd (three battalions), of Bonnet’s division, which Marmont says (see above, p. 430) that he had placed as a connecting-link between the Arapile and the troops on the plateau.

Pack had grasped the fact that when the 4th Division had crossed the valley, it would be much at the mercy of Bonnet’s troops in the direction of the Arapile, which were now on its flank, and would presently be almost in its rear. He therefore resolved to use the option of attacking that Wellington had given him. He deployed the 4th Caçadores as a skirmishing line, gave them as an immediate support the four grenadier companies of his line regiments, and followed with the rest in two columns, the 1st Line on the right, the 16th on the left. The caçadores went up the comparatively level field which formed the central slope between the two rocky ends of the Arapile--it was sown with rye some three feet high that year. French skirmishers in small numbers gave way before them, but the main opposition of the enemy was from his battery placed on the summit. The skirmishing line got four-fifths of the way to the crest, and then found an obstacle before it, a bank of some four feet high, where the field ended. It was perpendicular, and men scrambling up it had to sling their muskets, or to lay them down, so as to be able to use both hands. The caçadores were just tackling the bank--a few of them were over it--when the French regiment on top, the 120th, which had been waiting till the Portuguese should reach the obstacle, delivered a shattering volley and charged. The caçadores were quite helpless, being more engaged in climbing than in using their arms[568]. They were swept off in a moment, and the French, jumping down into the field, pursued them vigorously, and overthrew first the supporting grenadier companies, and then the two regiments, which were caught half-way up the slope. As Napier truly observes, ‘the Portuguese were scoffed at for their failure--but unjustly: no troops could have withstood that crash upon such steep ground, and the propriety of attacking the hill at all seems questionable.’ Pack made the attempt purely because he thought that it was the only way of taking off the attention of the French from Cole’s flank. The brigade suffered heavily, losing 386 men in ten minutes. It took refuge at the foot of the British Arapile, where it was covered by the 1/40th of Anson’s brigade, which was standing there in reserve.

[568] All this from the journal of Chas. Synge, Pack’s aide-de-camp, who was with the caçadores, and was desperately wounded at the bank, in the first clash. It was printed in the _Nineteenth Century_ for July 1912.

The French brigadier in command on the Greater Arapile wisely made little attempt to pursue Pack’s fugitives, but having his front now clear of any danger, sallied out from behind his hill with three regiments, the 118th and 119th and the re-formed 122nd, against the flank and rear of the British 4th Division. There was nothing in front of him save the 7th Caçadores, which Cole had detached as a covering force, when he stormed the heights with the remainder of the brigades of Ellis and Stubbs. This isolated battalion behaved very well, it stood its ground in line, but was absolutely overwhelmed and broken up by the superior numbers converging on it[569].

[569] See Vere’s _Marches of the 4th Division_, p. 36.

Nearly at the same moment Clausel’s whole force in column charged the two brigades of the 4th Division which had carried the heights. The French were in superior numbers--ten battalions to seven--and their two reserve regiments were fresh troops, acting against men who had just won a dearly-bought success by a great effort. The Anglo-Portuguese line gave way, from the left first, where the 23rd Portuguese began the movement. But it spread down the whole front, and the Fusiliers, no less than Stubbs’s brigade, recoiled to the very foot of the plateau[570].

[570] All this from Wachholz, who was now with the 7th Fusiliers.

This reverse gave Clausel, who was now in command since Bonnet’s wound, an opportunity that looked unlikely a few minutes before. He could either withdraw the Army of Portugal in retreat, covering the three disorganized divisions with those which were still intact--his own, Bonnet’s, and the two reserve divisions of Ferey and Sarrut, which had just come on the ground--Foy was far off and otherwise engaged--or he might adopt a bolder policy, and attempt to take advantage of the disaster to Pack and Cole, by bursting into the gap between Leith and the British Arapile, and trying to break Wellington’s centre. Being an ambitious and resolute man he chose the latter alternative--though it was a dangerous one when Leith and Pakenham were bearing in hard upon his routed left wing. Accordingly he left Sarrut to rally and cover the three beaten divisions, and attacked with his right centre. His own division followed the retreating brigades of Ellis and Stubbs down the heights, while the three disposable regiments of Bonnet came into line to its right, and Boyer’s three regiments of dragoons advanced down the depression between the Greater Arapile and the recovered plateau. Ferey was left in second line or reserve on the crest.

At first the advance had considerable success. Bonnet’s regiments pushed forward on the right, driving in the 1/40th[571], which had come forward to cover Pack’s routed battalions, and pressing quite close to the British Arapile, whose battery was turned upon them with much effect. Clausel’s own division pushed the Fusiliers some way down the slope and right into the valley at its foot. The dragoons charged Stubbs’s retreating Portuguese, and cut up many of them, though the 11th regiment finally succeeded in forming square with what remained solid of its companies, and beat off the main attack. Part of the French horsemen, however, pushed on, and reached the front of Wellington’s reserve line, the 6th Division, which had now descended the heights to relieve the broken 4th. One battalion of Hulse’s brigade, the 2/53rd, was charged by several squadrons, but formed square in time and repulsed them. Some little way to the right the Fusiliers and the Portuguese 23rd formed a large parti-coloured square, expecting a similar attack, but it did not come their way[572].

[571] See Vere’s _Marches of the 4th Division_, p. 36. The 3/27th on top of the hill was not brought forward, as some wrongly say.

[572] This from Wachholz’s narrative, very clearly explained. The Fusiliers were _not_ relieved by the advance of the 1/40th and 3/27th, as some authorities state.

Wellington, thanks to his own prescience, had ample reserves with which to parry Clausel’s desperate stroke. Setting aside the Light Division, which now paired off against Foy on the extreme left of the field, there were the 1st, 6th, and 7th Divisions, not to speak of Bradford’s Portuguese and España’s Spaniards, all of them perfectly intact. And of these, such was his strength, only one fresh unit, Clinton’s 6th Division, required to be brought up to turn the day. It was now coming over the valley where the 4th had preceded it, in a long majestic line, Hulse’s brigade on the right, Hinde’s on the left, the Portuguese of the Conde de Rezende in second line. The 1st Division, if it had been needed, could have supported Clinton, from its post just to the north of the Lesser Arapile, but had not yet got under way.

The repulse of the new French attack was carried out with no great difficulty, if not without serious fighting. The advance of Clausel’s own division was checked by Marshal Beresford, who took Spry’s Portuguese brigade out of the second line of the victorious 5th Division, and led it diagonally along the southern slope of the plateau to fall upon Clausel’s flank. This it did effectively, for the French division could not dare to press on against the Fusiliers, and had to throw back its left, and form up opposite Spry, with whom it became engaged in a lively musketry fight. It could no longer move forward, and was immobilized, though it held its own: Beresford was wounded in the chest and taken to the rear, but Spry’s five battalions had served the desired purpose, and stopped the French advance in this quarter.

But the decisive check to Clausel’s offensive was given by Clinton and the 6th Division, who advancing straight before them--over the ground previously traversed by Cole--fell upon, overlapped at both ends, and thoroughly discomfited in close musketry duel the nine battalions of Bonnet’s division, which had pressed forward close to the Lesser Arapile, as if to insert a wedge in the British line. Unsupported by Boyer’s dragoons, who had shot their bolt too early, and were now re-forming far to the rear, this French division was badly cut up. Each of the three regiments which had taken part in its advance lost more than 500 men in the struggle[573]: they fell back in disorder towards the hill behind them, and their rout compelled Clausel’s division to give way also, since it exposed its flank to the oncoming line of Hulse’s brigade on Clinton’s right. Moreover the Great Arapile had to be evacuated, for while the routed troops passed away to its left rear, the 1st British Division was soon after seen steadily advancing towards its right. The regiment on the hill (the 120th) was exposed to be cut off and surrounded, and hastily ran down the back of the mount: while retreating it was much molested by the skirmishers of the German Legion Brigade of the 1st Division. It lost heavily, and the battery that had been on the summit was captured before it could get away.

[573] The 122nd lost 21 officers and 508 men, the 118th and 119th probably as many or more--they had respectively 20 and 26 officers hit. The 120th, the regiment on the Great Arapile, lost only 8 officers--but 580 men, an almost inexplicable disproportion. The 118th claimed to have taken a flag--perhaps one of the 7th Portuguese Caçadores, who were badly cut up when Bonnet first advanced.

Thus Clausel’s brief half-hour of triumph ended in complete disaster, and the two divisions with which he had made his stroke were flung back against the slope in front of the woods in their rear, where they took refuge behind the intact division of Ferey, the sole available reserve in this part of the field. They were now as badly beaten as Thomières and Maucune had been earlier in the day[574].

[574] The losses of three of Clausel’s four regiments chance to have been preserved--the 25th Léger lost 16 officers and 322 men: the 27th Ligne 7 officers and 159 men: the 59th Ligne 17 officers and 253 men. The 50th, which had 26 officers hit, must have had more casualties than any of the other three, so the total divisional loss must have been well over 1,200. But Bonnet’s division, much worse mauled, lost at least 2,200.

While this lively action was in progress, the 5th and 3rd Divisions, supported by the 7th and by Bradford’s Portuguese, in second line, and assisted on their flanks by Arentschildt’s, D’Urban’s, and Anson’s horse, had been driving in the wrecks of the French left wing towards the woods. There was much resistance: on Sarrut’s intact battalions many of the broken regiments had rallied. ‘These men, besmeared with blood, dust, and clay, half naked, and some carrying only broken weapons, fought with a fury not to be surpassed,’ says a 3rd Division narrator of the battle. But the tide of battle was always moving backward, towards the woods from which the French had originally issued, and though it sometimes seemed about to stop for a minute or two, a new outflanking manœuvre by the troops of Pakenham, D’Urban, and Arentschildt, sufficed on each occasion to set it in motion again.

The last stage of the conflict had now been reached: the French centre was as thoroughly beaten as their left had been earlier in the day: many of the battalions had gone completely to pieces, and were pouring into the woods and making their way to the rear, with no thought except for their personal safety. Of intact troops there were only two divisions left, Ferey’s in the centre, and Foy’s on the extreme right near Calvarisa de Ariba. It was generally considered that Foy ought to have been overwhelmed by the much superior British force in front of him, for not only was he opposed by the Light Division, whose skirmishers had been bickering with him all the afternoon, but the 1st Division became available for use against him the moment that it was clear that the French offensive against the 4th Division had been shattered, by the advance of Clinton and Spry. Wellington, it is said[575], dispatched orders for the 1st Division to move forward and strike in between Foy and the Greater Arapile, at the moment that he saw that the 6th Division had broken Bonnet’s troops. If so, the order was not executed, and General Campbell led out his three brigades much too late, and not in time either to cut off Foy or to encircle the right of the disordered mass of the enemy now retiring into the woods. He seems to have acted simply as a link between the 6th Division on his right, and the Light Division on his left, for the latter alone pressed Foy vigorously. The only part of Campbell’s division which suffered any appreciable loss at this time of the day were the light companies of Löwe’s brigade--that which was composed of the King’s German Legion: they fell on the flank of the French regiment that was evacuating the Greater Arapile, and did it considerable harm[576].

[575] This is stated by Napier, iv. p. 273, and seems reasonable. See also Tomkinson, p. 186.

[576] The losses in Campbell’s Guards’ brigade (62 men) were in the companies which defended the village of Arapiles earlier in the day--those in his line brigade (Wheatley’s) were trifling--16 wounded and no killed. The K.G.L. brigade lost 60 or so, all in the light companies, during the advance.

Meanwhile the last and not the least bloody fighting of the day was beginning, on the hillside just outside the head of the forest, where Marmont had deployed his main body at midday, and where Ferey’s division was now standing in reserve, while the broken troops both from its front and from its flank were streaming by to the rear. Clausel had given Ferey orders to cover the retreat at all costs, warning him that unless he could hold back the advancing enemy for some time the disaster would be complete. The general to whom this unenviable task was assigned carried it out with splendid courage, and by his constancy gave time for the escape of the whole of the confused mass behind him. He drew out his nine battalions in a single line, the centre a little advanced to suit the shape of the hillside, the flanks a little thrown back. The extreme battalions at each end were in square, to guard against possible attacks by cavalry, but the seven central units were deployed _en bataille_ in three-deep line, a formation which had not been seen in the other episodes of the battle, and which made their fire much more effective than that of regiments fighting in ‘column of divisions,’ as most of their comrades had done[577].

[577] All this from Lemonnier-Delafosse of Ferey’s division, pp. 158-9.

Against the orderly front thus disposed Clinton came up with the 6th Division, pursuing his victorious advance. He was flanked on the left by the Fusilier brigade of the 4th Division, which had long ago rallied and come up to the front since its disaster of an hour back. On Clinton’s right were the 5th and 3rd Divisions, but both were at the moment re-forming, after their long struggle with Sarrut and the wrecks of the French left wing. Anson’s cavalry had at last got to the front in this direction, and replaced D’Urban and Arentschildt--whose squadrons were quite worn out--upon the extreme right of the allied line.

Clinton, it is said[578], refused to wait till the troops on his right were re-formed, and hurried on the attack: it was growing dark, and a few more minutes of delay would allow the French to make off under cover of the night. Therefore he advanced at once, and found himself engaged at once in a most desperate musketry contest, whose deadly results recalled Albuera, so heavy were the losses on both sides. But here the French had the advantage of being deployed, and not (as at Albuera) wedged in deep columns. The first fire of the French line, as Clinton’s brigades closed in, was particularly murderous, and swept away whole sections of the attacking force. ‘The ground over which we had to pass,’ writes an officer in Hinde’s brigade[579], ‘was a remarkably clear slope, like the glacis of a fortress, most favourable for the defensive fire of the enemy, and disadvantageous for the assailant. The craggy ridge, on which the French were drawn up, rose so abruptly that the rear ranks could fire over the heads of the front. But we had approached within two hundred yards before the musketry began: it was far the heaviest fire that I have ever seen, and accompanied by constant discharges of grape. An uninterrupted blaze was thus maintained, so that the crest of the hill seemed one long streak of flame. Our men came down to the charging position, and commenced firing from that level, at the same time keeping touch to the right, so that the gaps opened by the enemy’s fire were instantly filled up. At the first volley about eighty men of our right wing fell to the rear in one group. Our commanding officer rode up to know the cause, and found that they were every one wounded!’ But heavy as was the loss of this regiment (137 out of 600 present), it was trifling compared to that of its neighbours to the right, in Hulse’s brigade, where the right and centre regiments in the line, the 1/11th and 1/61st, lost respectively 340 men out of 516 and 366 out of 546--a proportion to which only Albuera could show a parallel. For many minutes--one observer calls it nearly an hour, but the stress of the struggle multiplied time--the two hostile lines continued blazing at each other in the growing dusk. ‘The glare of light caused by the artillery, the continued fire of musketry, and by the dry grass which had caught fire, gave the face of the hill a terrific appearance: it was one sheet of flame, and Clinton’s men seemed to be attacking a burning mountain, whose crater was defended by a barrier of shining steel[580].’ The French, so far as losses went, probably suffered no more, or perhaps less, than their assailants: but their casualties were nevertheless appalling. And at last they gave way: ‘the cruel fire cost us many lives,’ writes an officer of the 31st Léger, ‘and at last, slowly, and after having given nearly an hour’s respite to the remainder of the army, Ferey gave back, still protected by his flanking squares, to the very edge of the forest, where he halted our half-destroyed division. Formed in line it still presented a respectable front, and halted, despite of the English batteries, which enfiladed us with a thundering fire. Here Ferey met the form of death which the soldier prefers to all others, he was slain outright by a round-shot[581].’

[578] But not on the best authority: regimental diaries are not always safe to follow on such points.

[579] Ross Lewin of the 32nd, ii. pp. 25-6.

[580] Grattan, p. 253.

[581] Lemonnier-Delafosse, p. 159. This note about Ferey’s being slain outright does not agree with the usual statement that he was mortally wounded, and died two days later, given by several English diarists. But Lemonnier-Delafosse is first-hand authority.

Clinton’s English regiments were so disordered and reduced by the awful fire through which they had passed in their victorious march, that he put into front line for a final assault on the enemy his Portuguese brigade, that of the Conde de Rezende, which was still intact, as it had hitherto been in reserve. Its five battalions deployed, and advanced against the now much contracted line of Ferey’s division: they were supported on the left by the Fusilier brigade of the 4th Division, on the right by the 5th Division, which was now re-formed and well to the front. Anson’s cavalry was also in this direction.

The dying effort of Ferey’s division was worthy of its previous hard fighting. ‘Formed right up against the trees,’ writes the French officer, whom we have already quoted, ‘no longer with any artillery to help, we saw the enemy marching up against us in two lines, the first of which was composed of Portuguese. Our position was critical, but we waited for the shock: the two lines moved up toward us; their order was so regular that in the Portuguese regiment in front of us we could see the company intervals, and note the officers behind keeping the men in accurate line, by blows with the flat of their swords or their canes. We fired first, the moment that they got within range: and the volleys which we delivered from our two first ranks were so heavy and so continuous that, though they tried to give us back fire for fire, the whole melted away. The second line was coming up behind--this was English, we should have tried to receive it in the same way, still holding our ground though under a flank fire of artillery, when suddenly the left of our line ceased firing and fell back into the wood in complete disorder. The 70th Ligne had found itself turned by cavalry; it broke; the rout spread down the front to the 26th and 77th; only our two battalions of the 31st Léger held firm, under the fire of the enemy, which continued so long as we showed outside the edge of the forest. We only gave back as the day ended, retiring some 250 yards from our original position, and keeping our _voltigeur_ companies still in a skirmishing line in front[582].’

[582] Lemonnier-Delafosse, pp. 161-2.

This vigorous account of the last stand of the French reserve is not far from being accurate. It is quite true that the Portuguese brigade of the 6th Division suffered terribly in its attack, and was completely checked. It lost 487 men during the fifteen minutes in which it was engaged--the heaviest casualty list in any of the brigades of its nation, even heavier than that of Stubbs’s troops in the 4th Division. The only point that requires to be added is that it was not so much a panic caused by a partial cavalry charge which broke the 70th Ligne, and finally dispersed Ferey’s regiments[583], as the pressure of the 5th Division upon the whole of the left of their line, which collapsed almost simultaneously. But they had done their work--before they dispersed, leaving only the 31st Léger to act as a most inadequate rearguard, they had detained the allies for a half-hour or more, and night had set in. Wellington ordered the 6th Division to pursue, but it was so much cut up and fatigued that it only advanced a hundred yards into the forest, and then halted and settled down for the night. Why the intact 7th Division was not rather used for the pursuit it is hard to understand. Still more so is the fact that no cavalry was sent forward in this direction: the woods, no doubt, looked uninviting and dangerous, but the enemy was in a state of absolute panic, and ready to disperse at the least pressure. ‘But,’ says the most intelligent of the British diarists with the mounted arm, ‘the cavalry during the assault on the last hill was ordered back to the point on the left where we assembled before the attack, leaving the infantry to pursue without us. Had this not been done (though it might not have been prudent to pursue with both in the night), yet by their being at hand there was a greater chance of accomplishing more. The order came from Sir Stapleton Cotton himself. The infantry moved in pursuit by moonlight.... I have heard from an officer in the 6th Division that although they had been marching all day, and were so tired, when ordered to halt for the night, that they could not possibly have marched much farther, yet they sat up through the night, talking over the action, each recalling to his comrade the events that happened[584].’

[583] Ferey’s four regiments probably lost somewhat over 1,100 men--the 31st Léger had 380 casualties, the 47th Ligne (with 18 officers killed and wounded) something like 500; the 70th suffered least, it returned only 111 casualties; the 26th slightly more, perhaps 150. The whole forms a moderate total, considering the work done.

[584] Tomkinson (of Anson’s brigade), p. 187.

Some part of the slackness of the pursuit is to be explained by an unfortunate misconception by which Wellington (through no fault of his own) was obsessed that night. He was under the impression that the Castle of Alba de Tormes was still held by the Spanish garrison which he had left there, and that the bridge and the neighbouring ford were therefore unavailable for the retreat of the French, who (as he supposed) must be retiring by the fords of Huerta and Villa Gonzalo, which they had used to reach the field. Unhappily--as has been already mentioned--Carlos de España had withdrawn the battalion at Alba without making any mention of the fact to his Commander-in-Chief[585]. Wellington therefore put more thought to urging the pursuit in the direction of the East than of the South, and it was not till late in the night, and when nothing but stragglers had been picked up on the Huerta road, that he discovered what had really occurred.

[585] Tomkinson in his diary (p. 188) has a curious story to the effect that ‘the Spanish general, before the action, asked if he should not take his troops out of Alba--after he had done it. Lord Wellington replied, “Certainly not,” and the Don was afraid to tell what he had done, Lord W. therefore acted, of course, as if the place had been in our possession still.’

It remains to relate the unimportant happenings on this front during the evening. At the moment when the French attack on Wellington’s centre failed, about 7 o’clock or soon after, Clausel sent to Foy, whose division still lay behind Calvarisa de Ariba, covering the way to the Huerta fords, the order to retire. His instructions were to cover the flank of the line of retreat of the broken army, and to take up successive detaining positions on its right, on the eastern side of the brook and ravine which lie between the two Arapiles and the village of Utrera. These orders Foy carried out skilfully and well. He fended off the Light Division, which had moved out in pursuit of him, with a heavy rearguard of light troops, always giving way when pressed. His concern was almost entirely with this British unit, for the 1st Division had started too late to get near him. The Light Division and its battery kept him on the run, but never came up with his main body. ‘Night alone saved my division, and the troops that I was covering,’ wrote Foy, ‘without it I should probably have been crushed, and the enemy would have arrived at Alba de Tormes before the wrecks of our seven routed divisions got there. An hour after dark the English cavalry was still pushing charges home against my regiments, which I had placed in alternate chequers of line and column. I had the luck to keep the division in hand till the last, and to steer it in the right direction, though many routed battalions kept pressing in upon my left, and threatened to carry disorder into my ranks. The pursuit ceased near Santa Maria de Utrera[586].’

[586] Foy, _Vie militaire_, pp. 176-7.

It is difficult to make out what became of the heavy dragoons of Bock during this long retrograde movement of Foy’s division: they were certainly not the cavalry of which the French general speaks as charging him during his retreat, for they returned no single man or horse killed or wounded that day[587]. Perhaps, far away to the left, they may have been driving in from position to position, the one regiment of Boyer’s dragoons which had been left to cover Foy’s extreme outer flank. More probably they may have been pushing their march towards the fords of Huerta, in the vain hope of finding masses of disbanded enemies on the way, and ultimately cutting them off from the river. This hypothesis is borne out by the fact that the bivouac of the heavy German brigade was that night in front of Pelabravo, much to the north-east of the resting-places of the rest of the army, and in the general direction of the fords[588].

[587] This cavalry _may_ have been the two detached squadrons of the 14th Light Dragoons, which had not followed the rest of Arentschildt’s brigade to the right.

[588] See Schwertfeger’s _History of the German Legion_, i. p. 378.

That the pursuit was misdirected was a most lamentable chance for Wellington. If it had been urged in the right direction, the Army of Portugal would have been annihilated as a fighting-body, and would never have been able to make head again in the autumn. For the forest of Alba de Tormes was full of nothing but a disorderly crowd, making the best of its way towards the bridge, with no proper rearguard and no commander in charge of the retreat. Clausel, wounded in the foot, was being looked after by the surgeons in Alba, and was barely able to mount his horse next day. The rout was complete: ‘a shapeless mass of soldiery was rolling down the road like a torrent--infantry, cavalry, artillery, wagons, carts, baggage-mules, the reserve park of the artillery drawn by oxen, were all mixed up. The men, shouting, swearing, running, were out of all order, each one looking after himself alone--a complete stampede. The panic was inexplicable to one who, coming from the extreme rear, knew that there was no pursuit by the enemy to justify the terror shown. I had to stand off far from the road, for if I had got near it, I should have been swept off by the torrent in spite of myself[589].’ So writes the officer, already twice quoted for the narrative of the end of the battle, whose regiment, still hanging together in the most creditable fashion, brought up the rear of the retreat. It is clear that any sort of a pursuit would have produced such a general block at the bridge-head that a disaster like that of Leipzig must have followed, and the whole of the rear of the Army of Portugal, brought up against the river Tormes, must have surrendered _en masse_.

[589] Lemonnier-Delafosse, p. 164.

From eight o’clock at night till three in the morning the routed army was streaming across the bridge and the ford. Once covered by the Tormes some regiments regained a certain order, but many thousands of fugitives, pressing on ahead in unthinking panic, were scattered all over the country-side, and did not come back to their colours for many days, or even weeks.

The actual loss of the Army of Portugal would appear to have been some 14,000 to 15,000 men, not including the ‘missing,’ who afterwards turned up and came back to the ranks. Marmont in his dispatch had the effrontery to write that he lost only 6,000 men[590], and 9 guns: a statement only equalled in mendacity by Soult’s assertion that Albuera had cost him but 2,800 casualties[591]. No general list of losses by regiments was ever given to Napoleon, though he demanded it: but a return proposing to include the casualties not only of Salamanca but of the minor combats of Castrillo and Garcia Hernandez was drawn up, giving a total of 12,435[592]. On the whole, however, it would be safe to allow for 14,000 men as the total loss, exclusive of stragglers. Among officers of rank the Commander-in-Chief was wounded: Ferey and Thomières were killed: the latter died inside the English lines after the battle. Clausel and Bonnet were both wounded, the former slightly, the latter severely, so that four of the eight divisional generals of infantry were hit. Of the brigadiers, Desgraviers (division Thomières) was mortally and Menne (division Foy) severely wounded. The trophies lost were 2 eagles (those of the 22nd and 101st), 6 other colours[593], and 20 guns[594]. Of these last 12 represented the divisional batteries of Thomières and Bonnet, which were taken whole, and the other 8, as it would seem, pieces captured from the long line of batteries on Maucune’s flank, which was rolled up when Le Marchant and Leith swept the plateau in their triumphant advance. Of the eight French divisions those of Thomières and Bonnet would appear to have lost about 2,200 men apiece, Maucune nearly 2,000, Clausel, Brennier, and Ferey above 1,200 each, Sarrut perhaps 500: Foy’s very heavy losses nearly all fell on the next day. The cavalry, with 43 officers hit, must account for at least 500 more of the total[595], and the artillery must have lost, along with their 20 guns, at least 300 or 400 gunners[596]. Of prisoners (wounded and unwounded), there were according to Wellington’s dispatch 137 officers[597] and nearly 7,000 men.

[590] Marmont to Berthier, Tudela, July 31, in his _Mémoires_, iv. p. 448.

[591] See vol. iv. p. 295.

[592] viz. killed or prisoners--officers 162, men 3,867; wounded--officers 232, men 7,529; _traînards_, 645 men; 12 guns and 2 eagles missing. This return is in the Paris archives. It is certainly incomplete: 60 officers were killed, 137 prisoners, which makes 197 _tués ou pris_ instead of 162. And 20 guns were lost.

[593] A regiment whose 1st battalion was elsewhere carried not an eagle but a simple standard per battalion instead. Of such regiments, wanting their senior battalion and therefore their eagle, there were with Marmont three. Two, the 66th and 82nd, were in Maucune’s division, one, the 26th, in Ferey’s. The colours probably belonged to some of these, of which several were much cut up, especially the 66th.

[594] The returns of the Army of Portugal show a deficiency of 20 guns between July 15 and August 1, of which 12 represent the divisional batteries of Thomières and Bonnet, which have completely disappeared. Wellington says, ‘official returns account for only 11 guns taken, but it is believed that 20 have fallen into our hands.’ This was correct.

[595] The deficiency in cavalry rank and file shown by the muster rolls between July 15 and August 1 was 512.

[596] Perhaps more: for the Reserve Artillery and Park alone show 1,450 rank and file on July 15 and only 707 on August 1.

[597] Sixty-three officers arrived in England as the Salamanca batch of prisoners; of these some were wounded, for their names occur both in Martinien’s tables as _blessés_, and in the Transport Office returns at the Record Office as prisoners shipped off. The remainder of the 137 were badly wounded, and came later, or died in hospital.

Wellington returned his loss in the British units as 3,129, in the Portuguese as 2,078: of España’s Spaniards 2 were killed and 4 wounded. This makes up the total of 5,173, sent off immediately after the battle. The separate Portuguese return forwarded by Beresford to Lisbon gives the loss of the troops of that nation as somewhat less--1,637 instead of 2,078: the difference of 441 is partly to be accounted for by the reappearance of stragglers who were entered as ‘missing’ in the first casualty-sheet, but cannot entirely explain itself in that fashion. Which of the returns is the more accurate it is hard to be sure, but a prima facie preference would naturally be given to the later and more carefully detailed document. Taking British and Portuguese together, it is clear that the 6th Division, which lost 1,500 men, was far the hardest hit. The 3rd and 5th, which decided the day on the right, got off easily, with a little more than 500 each: the 4th Division, owing to the mishap to the Fusilier brigade and Stubbs’s Portuguese, had very nearly 1,000 casualties. Pack’s five battalions lost 386 men in the one short episode of the battle in which they were engaged, the unsuccessful attack on the Great Arapile, and were lucky to fare no worse. The cavalry total of 173 killed and wounded was also very moderate considering the good work that the brigades of Le Marchant, D’Urban, and Arentschildt performed. In the 1st, 7th, and Light Divisions, the trifling losses were all in the flank-companies sent out in skirmishing line: of the battalions none was engaged as a whole[598]. The artillery were overmatched by the French guns all through the day, and it is surprising to find that they returned only four men killed, and ten wounded. The casualty list of officers of high rank was disproportionately large--not only was Le Marchant killed, but Marshal Beresford, Stapleton Cotton, commanding the cavalry[599], and Leith and Cole, each a divisional general, were disabled. Of officers in the Portuguese service, Collins, commanding a brigade of the 7th Division, was mortally hurt, and the Conde de Rezende, who led the Portuguese of the 6th Division, was wounded.

[598] The 7th Division would have had practically no loss but for the skirmishing in the early morning near Nuestra Señora de la Peña, and the heaviest item in the 1st Division casualties was the 62 men of the Guards’ flank-companies who were hit while defending the village of Arapiles.

[599] Cotton was shot after the battle was over by a caçador sentry, whose challenge to halt he had disregarded while riding back from the pursuit.

The victory of Salamanca was certainly an astonishing feat of rapid decision and instantaneous action. The epigrammatic description of it as ‘the beating of 40,000 men in forty minutes’ hardly over-states its triumphant celerity: before that time had elapsed, from the moment when Pakenham and Leith struck the French left, the battle was undoubtedly in such a condition that the enemy had no chance left--he could only settle whether his retreat should be more or less prompt. Clausel chose to make a hopeless counter-offensive move, and so prolonged the fight till dark--he would probably have been wiser to break off at once, and to retreat at six o’clock, covering his routed left with his intact reserve divisions. He would certainly have lost several thousand men less if he had retired after repulsing Cole and Pack, and had made no attempt to press the advantage that he had gained over them. It may be argued in his defence that the last hour of battle, costly though it proved to him, prevented Wellington’s pursuit from commencing in the daylight, an undoubted boon to the defeated army. But at the most the victor would have had only one hour at his disposition before dusk; the French were taking refuge in a forest, where orderly pursuit would have been difficult; and looking at Wellington’s usual methods of utilizing a victory (e. g. Vittoria) we may feel doubtful whether the beaten enemy--if covered by Sarrut, Ferey, and Foy, as a regular rearguard, would have suffered more than he actually did. For Wellington’s whole idea of pursuit turned on the false notion that the castle, bridge, and ford of Alba de Tormes were still blocked by the Spaniards whom he had left there. By the time that he had discovered that the enemy was not retreating towards Huerta and Villa Gonzalo, but escaping over the Tormes in some other way, the hour would have been late.

Undoubtedly the best summary and encomium of Wellington’s tactics on this eventful day is that of an honest enemy, the very capable and clear-sighted Foy, who wrote in his diary six days after the fight[600]:

[600] Diary in _Vie militaire_, ed. Girod de l’Ain, p. 178.

‘The battle of Salamanca is the most masterly in its management, the most considerable in the number of troops engaged, and the most important in results of all the victories that the English have gained in these latter days. It raises Lord Wellington almost to the level of Marlborough. Hitherto we had been aware of his prudence, his eye for choosing a position, and his skill in utilizing it. At Salamanca he has shown himself a great and able master of manœuvres. He kept his dispositions concealed for almost the whole day: he waited till we were committed to our movement before he developed his own: he played a safe game[601]: he fought in the oblique order--it was a battle in the style of Frederic the Great. As for ourselves, we had no definite intention of bringing on a battle, so that we found ourselves let in for it without any preliminary arrangements having been made. The army was moving without much impulse or supervision, and what little there was stopped with the wounding of the Marshal.’ In another note he adds: ‘The Duke of Ragusa committed us to the action--he brought it on contrary to Clausel’s advice. The left was already checked when he received his wound: after that moment it was impossible either to refuse to fight, or to give the fight a good direction: all that could be done was to attenuate the sum of the disaster--that Clausel did. There was no gap in the command--we should have been no better off if the Marshal had never been hurt. He is not quite honest on that point in his dispatch[602].’

[601] _Il a joué serré._ This idiom is explained in the Dictionary of the Academy as ‘jouer sans rien hasarder.’

[602] Note in same volume, p. 177.

With this criticism we may undoubtedly agree. Foy has hit upon the main points in which Salamanca was a startling revelation to the contemporary observer--no one on the French side, and but few upon the British, had yet realized that Wellington on the offensive could be no less formidable and efficient than Wellington on the defensive. After July 22, 1812, no opponent could dare to take liberties with him, as Soult, Masséna, and Marmont, each in his turn, had done up till that date. The possible penalty was now seen to be too great. Moreover, the prestige of the British general was so much enhanced that he could safely count upon it as not the least of his military assets--as we shall see him do in the Pyrenees, a little more than a year after Salamanca had been won. To the other thesis that Foy lays down--the statement that Marmont had, by his initial movement, made disaster inevitable before he was wounded--we may also give our assent. Jourdan came to the same conclusion--the Emperor Napoleon also fixed the responsibility in the same way. The Marshal’s ingenious special pleading, to the effect that but for his personal misadventure he would yet have won the day, will convince none but blind enemies of Wellington. Of some of the charges which Napoleon laid to his charge he must be acquitted: he did not know in the least that King Joseph was on his way to join him from Madrid with 15,000 men. The dispatches sent to warn him of this fact had all miscarried, and the last news from the Army of the Centre which had reached him had intimated that no immediate help was to be expected from that quarter. Nor was he wrong in not waiting for the succours from Caffarelli: these were so trifling--800 sabres and one horse battery--that their presence or absence could make little difference in the battle.

But the Marshal’s flagrant and irreparable fault was that, having made up his mind that Wellington would not fight under any provocation--a conclusion for which the earlier episodes of the campaign gave him some justification--he got his army into a position in which he had battle suddenly forced upon him, at a moment when he was not in a position to accept it with advantage. The attempt to turn Wellington’s right wing on the afternoon of July 22nd was an unpardonable liberty, only taken because the Marshal had come to despise his opponent. The liberty was resented in the most forcible way--and there was no means of avoiding disaster when Thomières and Maucune had once started out on their rash turning movement.

SECTION XXXIII: