So at the end of an eight mile point ‘at a time’ admitted Slade in his report ‘when we were in confusion’, the cry of ‘Look to the right! Look to the right!’ spreading through the mingled, panting groups might well fall on overly sensitive ears. ‘All was now confused. Every man turned and made to the rear, and for a few seconds the extraordinary sight was to be seen of two forces running away from each other’ (Atkinson). But only briefly, for the pursued 17th quickly grasped that the flank appearance of their brethren in the 27th Dragoons had stopped the pursuit in its tracks, and they could contemplate revenge, which they cheerily did for the next eight miles.
All in all Maguilla was not only a bad day for the immediate reputation of the two regiments involved but, sadly thanks to his Lordship’s slightly misdirected anger, it tarnished the reputation of British cavalry generally. The astonishing thing is that Wellington allowed Slade to continue in command of his brigade for a further year. No-one – certainly not this author – has ever been able to understand why he was so tolerant in this case, when frankly so intolerant in others.
That aside, returning to Wellington’s distraction measures, he next arranged through a co-operative Castanos for General Abadia’s 16,000 effectives in the Army of Galicia to march upon the isolated garrison in Astorga and into the plains of northern Leon. This would not only invite Marmont to send help but would also threaten Bonnet’s division in the Asturias, and his communications with Marmont. And if Astorga could be said to cover Marmont’s rear, Zamora seventy miles to the south covered his right flank: thither four Portuguese militia regiments under General Silveira were directed to cross the border and blockade its garrison. D’Urban was detached from Beresford’s staff with a small cavalry brigade, to nanny the somewhat over-enterprising Silveira.
Next, a series of measures were put in hand aimed at Caffarelli’s Army of the North, adjacent to Marmont and sitting on his communications back to France. The Spanish General Mendizabal was loosely in command of two irregular bands, each several thousands strong, under Porlier and Longa, together with smaller guerrilla groups under Marino, Salizar, Saornil and others, all operating either side of the Cantabrian Mountains; Mendizabal was to cause trouble generally for Caffarelli, and this he willingly did – including several daring raids down into Old Castille, one of which caused consternation to the Burgos garrison. Mainly, however, the contribution of the Spanish irregulars in the north was to be in conjunction with a British sea-based force of two marine battalions and a naval squadron under Admiral Sir Home Popham. The plan was for Mandizabal’s local troops to descend from the hills to blockade each port garrison from the land side, while the Royal Navy battered it from the sea. The first such action, Gijon, was made on 17 June, precisely when Marmont’s plea for reinforcements would be reaching the Army of the North. As we shall see, an alarmed Caffarelli sent nothing. He was too busy marching up and down the coast at 3 mph while Popham went with the winds.
We can finally touch on another arrangement: the landing of an expeditionary force from Sicily, under Sir William Bentinck, upon the coast of Valencia or Catalonia. As Sir William put it some months earlier to London, ‘The occasional disembarkation at different points of a large regular force must considerably annoy the enemy, and create an important diversion for other Spanish operations.’ Wellington quickly seized upon the general concept, and turned the proposed destination from Corsica or Elba to Barcelona or Taragona; in May plans looked good for an allied force 17,000 strong complete with siege train to descend on Taragona on 3 June. In the event, unhappily for reasons that need not detain us here, only 7,000 landed, and then only at the very end of July. But, nevertheless, the rumours of a large force readying itself in Sicily and Majorca came to Suchet’s ears in early June, and of the undoubted movement of the transports, succeeded in worrying him, and his concern – like Caffarelli’s – was such that he sent no troops either to Soult or to Joseph in Madrid.
Equally unhappily, two more of Wellington’s distraction plans were to go off at half-cock: Silveira’s militias were slow to mobilise and the Galician army delayed its advance, having chosen a bad moment to change commanders. It would be early July before Astorga and Zamora felt the heat. But the overall success of Wellington’s various arrangements was writ large in a letter sent to Marmont from Jourdan in Madrid, the day after he set his army in motion:
Your letter of June 6th says that Wellington will soon fall upon you. But we have similar letters from Soult, declaring that the blow is to be delivered against him: he encloses two notes of June 2nd and 5th from General Daricau in Estremadura, declaring that 60,000 of the allies are just about to begin an invasion of Andalucia. We are too far off from the scene of operations to determine whether it is you or the Duke of Dalmatia who is deceived. We can only tell you, meanwhile, not to be misled by demonstrations.
Do not be misled indeed – but too late! For Wellington was closing on Salamanca, the outskirts of which he reached without incident after four easy marches, on 19 June. There he learnt that the city had already been evacuated by the two divisions located there, bar a garrison of 800 men in its three forts. For Marmont, his divisions dispersed seeking provisions, was furiously concentrating twenty miles the other side, on the Toro road. News of Wellington’s advance had reached him on 14 June, and by the 19th five of his infantry divisions and two cavalry were all in hand, with Foy and Thomiere nearly there as well, with Bonnet still closing from the Asturias. He had 38,000 bayonets, 2,800 sabres and eighty guns, less Bonnet (who would add a further 6,500). He also had good reason to expect help from the Army of the North. In reply to letters in late May and early June querying the availability of reinforcements (before Marmont heard of Wellington’s advance), Caffarelli gave him to understand he could free 7,000 bayonets, 1,000 sabres and twenty-two guns. This encouragement was received on 19 June, the day Marmont concentrated his Army.
Wellington thus seemed for the moment to have the edge with his 43,000 bayonets, especially his 3,500 cavalry, but one must make two caveats: the British and KGL contingent numbered only 28,000 or two-thirds of the whole, his 15,000 Portuguese being the other third. The behaviour of some Portuguese at Badajoz had been worrying. Further, two of his three most senior officers were about to leave. Picton, Graham and Beresford had commanded his three columns in the approach to Salamanca, but the former’s unhealed wound from Badajoz turned to a debilitating fever and his 3rd Division had to be taken over on 28 June by Wellington’s brother-in-law, Edward Pakenham; and Graham’s eyesight deteriorated to the point where he was to be sent home for treatment. That raised the question of who would be second to Wellington’s command? The question, no doubt, was of lively concern for his divisional commanders, still more for the staff at Headquarters, but seemed to concern his Lordship not one jot. He was certainly against an officer being sent out immediately and especially for such a potential role. His reference in a letter to Bathurst in London of 9 July ‘Sir William Beresford is here (i.e. knew the form) and would naturally have a considerable influence in the conduct of the operations’, constitutes a clear guide to the short-term succession. This remains a surprise for many of us, post Campo Major and Albuera.
The news of the departures of Picton and Graham came within a few weeks of the capture of Wellington’s best intelligence officer, Colquhoun Grant, and within days of news that the earlier departure of his Chief of Staff, Major General Murray, was to be permanent. His Lordship was rarely daunted by events over which he had no control, but the loss of these four individuals was most unfortunate.
Marmont’s determination to fight is indicated by the recall of Bonnet from the Asturias – not something he would rush to tell Napoleon – together with the swift orders to concentrate generally. It would, of course, have to be at a time and place of his choosing, for the relative strengths were not pleasing – especially in cavalry. His views were shared by his opposite number, even though at that stage Wellington had neither an expectation that Marmont would flout his
Emperor with respect to Bonnet’s 6,500, nor that Thomières would march in from Zamora and Astorga. Thus even without reinforcements being sent by Caffarelli or Joseph in Madrid, the numbers would be tight. As he wrote, ‘Marmont will not risk an action unless he should have an advantage; and I shall certainly not risk one unless I should have an advantage; and matters therefore do not appear likely to be brought to that criterion very soon.’
The entry into Salamanca on 17 June was a scene of genuine rejoicing by the city’s people. It was well recorded by Captain Andrew Leith Hay, 29th:
Lord Wellington entered Salamanca about ten o’clock in the forenoon: the avenues to it were filled with people clamorous in their expressions of joy; nothing could be more animating than the scene. The day was brilliant, presenting all the glowing luxuriance of a southern climate. Upwards of fifty staff officers accompanied the British General; they were immediately followed by the 14th Dragoons and a brigade of artillery; the streets were crowded to excess; signals of enthusiasm and friendship waved from the balconies; the entrance to the plaza was similar to a triumph; every window and balcony was filled with persons welcoming the distinguished officer to whom they looked for liberation and permanent relief . . . At the same time, the 6th Division of British infantry entered the southwest angle of the square. It is impossible to describe the electric effect produced under these circumstances by the music; as the bands of the regiments burst in full tones on the ear of the people, a shout of enthusiastic feeling escaped from the crowd, all ranks seeming perfectly inebriated with exultation.
However, the entry was not via the old bridge across the Tormes, for three convents had been converted into forts, and garrisoned, and the two guns of one of these commanded the bridge. The cheers of the crowds
Annoyed the French men a good deal, and they revenged themselves by firing at everyone they saw in the cross streets leading to their works . . . [but] nobody seems to trouble their heads about them, and walk about the streets, men, women and children, in perfect safety and with the greatest unconcern. (William Warre).
An operation to capture the three forts was of course put in hand immediately, but strangely by two brigades of the 6th Division, which, apart from the 1st and 7th, was Wellington’s only division not to have experience in the popular art of besieging. Since it was not to succeed for a long week, and during that time four miles away a major battle with the Army of Portugal only narrowly failed to ignite, we shall park the story of the forts for now, and return to them in due course.
For Wellington sent his army straight to a ridge beyond San Cristoval, out on the Torro road. When he found time to reconnoitre the ground is not known, but that part of Spain is not short of defensible ridges. It is clear from his deployment that he hoped Marmont would attack, as yet under-strength but anxious no doubt not to have to report to the Emperor the loss of a third major town and river crossing – to say nothing of the immense stores of provisions so recently abandoned. The 800-strong garrison of the three forts has been likened to bait, which might lure a rescue attempt forward into an ambush, concealed behind a reverse slope across his path. The British position was four miles long, running between San Cristoval and Cabrerizos on the Tormes. The ground was held from the right in the order of the 7th Division, then the 1st, 4th, the Light, the 3rd and on the left the two Portuguese brigades of Pack and Bradford. In reserve lay the 5th Division plus Hulse’s brigade from the 6th, and Espana’s 3,000 Spaniards. Alten and Ponsonby’s light cavalry brigades covered the right and left flanks, with Le Marchant and Bocks’ heavy brigades in reserve in the centre. The ground was open for miles, a treeless, shrubless, waterless plain stretching across to the next tributary of the Tormes, and onto the next ridge beyond that. Wheat grew everywhere and was nearly ripe. Wheeler of the 51st noted how ‘It is beautiful to look down on the enemy at night, the whole plain is covered with fires. The position we occupy is of vast importance, the enemy cannot see a single man of our army, except those who go up to the brow out of curiosity.’ For this was a classic Wellington battle scene with battalions hidden on the reverse slopes, reminiscent in various ways of parts of Talavera and Busaco – not impregnable having open flanks, but a nicely obscured invitation to the blue columns.
And on 20 June, three blue columns were indeed reported advancing from Fuente Sauco, sixteen miles away. They came up in fine style during the afternoon, deploying to within a half cannon shot at the foot of the heights. ‘Their light infantry pushed close to the position, and had an affair with ours from the 7th Division. There was considerable fire on both sides . . . The cannonade both sides was sharp, but holding the commanding ground they suffered much more than we did’ (Tomkinson). The village of Castalliano was taken, in front of the centre of the heights, and then at dusk an attempt was made on another village half a mile towards the river, called Morisco. Wellington had however posted the 7th’s 51st (West Riding) and 68th (Durhams) there, who repulsed three attacks before being withdrawn during the night.
There is a nice picture drawn by Tomkinson of his assembled divisional commanders grouped around his Lordship on the crest above Castalliano, as darkness fell:
Whilst standing receiving the orders, several round shot came amongst them, and one close to Lord Wellington, he having a map in his hand. Very little confusion was occasioned – his Lordship moved a few paces, and continued his directions. I was with Sir Stapleton, and close to Lord Wellington at the time.
But a much more interesting observation is contained in the Journal of Captain James Stanhope, 1st Guards, one of Graham’s ADCs, who relates that while watching the assembled blue lines, several times Wellington was heard to say ‘Damned tempting! I have a great mind to attack ‘em.’ Whether his temptation became a rumour amongst the ranks is not known, but Tomkinson attests he and his fellow officers felt ‘The opportunity for an attack was so favourable, we all agreed Lord Wellington had some unknown reason for not availing himself of their situation.’
That he did not choose to attack Marmont was much regretted, it has been suggested, by most of his senior officers including Graham, Picton, Leith, Cotton and Pakenham, whilst the latter, in a letter to Sir George Murray on 24 August, blames Beresford’s caution for contaminating the Peer:
Marmont you know advanced a day or two after, and committed his people disparity by running slap up against our position which covered the town and fort and where he remained for two days playing the bully. Had it not been for a certain Marshal (whose nerves latterly have been worse than ever) Marmont would have been lost the first night of his approach, but I believe everything has ended for the best.
Pakenham’s low opinion of Beresford’s post-Albuera caution was shared by one of Wellington’s ADCs, Major Ulysses Burgh, who meeting the Marshal soon after Wellington decided to attack at Salamanca, tellingly said, ‘Well, we are going to attack at last, and you can’t prevent it’.
So why didn’t Wellington attack? Well, while Marmont had only five divisions present that afternoon, which Oman credits with a strength of 18,000 bayonets and less than 2,000 cavalry, two more divisions were closing fast with another 10,000 men. Wellington’s advantage would then be slim at about three to two with his 40,000 bayonets (British, Portuguese and Spanish) and 3,500 horse. Two unstated reasons for caution were, firstly, the political scenario in England, and the effect there of a defeat in Spain; and secondly the possible impetuosity of his troops in attack (Talavera and so many cavalry actions) which could again be their undoing. Set these against the near-certainty on that day, the 20th, that Marmont meant to attack him next morning, and the attractions therefore of a successful defensive battle would appear overwhelming. He wrote to Liverpool on 25 June):
Between the 20th and 22nd, I had a favourable opportunity of attacking the enemy, of which, however, I did not think it proper to avail myself for the following reasons. First; it was probable he had advanced with an intention to attack us, and in the position which we occupied, I considered it advantageous to be att
acked; and that the action would be attended by less loss on our side. Secondly; the operations against the forts of Salamanca took up the attention of some of our troops; and although I believe the superiority of numbers in the field was on our side, the superiority was not so great as to render an action decisive of the result of the campaign, in which we should sustain great loss. Thirdly; in case of failure, the passage of the Tormes would have been difficult, the enemy continuing in the possession of the forts, and commanding the bridge of Salamanca.
That his Lordship seemed certain Marmont would attack, is indicated by an observation made by Lieutenant John Cooke, 43rd:
The Duke of Wellington was stationary from morning til night, watching the enemy, generally alone and on foot, at the crest of the hill, and in the centre of the position. His Staff approached him one at a time to receive orders. At night the Duke slept on the ground, wrapped in his cloak.
It would not surprise us if Cooke had added, say, ‘throughout this time he lay with his ear pressed to the ground’, so clearly can we picture a general eager to have his prayers answered.
Salamanca 1812- Wellington’s Year of Victories Page 23