Salamanca. An etching by J. Clarke shows Wellington issuing orders.
A modern image of the central area of the battlefield. This is where the 2nd Battalion of the 44th (East Essex) Regiment captured the Imperial Eagle of the 62e Ligne.
Looking east to west across the Salamanca battlefield.
Another view of the battlefield.
The Greater Arapile.
Salamanca. The battlefield chapel.
Salamanca. The site of the forts.
Salamanca. The main bridge.
Salamanca. A view from the British positions across to the French.
François Joseph Heim’s image of the siege of Burgos. This was Wellington’s only rebuff in 1812 and he raised the siege and withdrew his army across the Douro.
CHAPTER 7
Salamanca — The Early Morning Wednesday 22 July 1812
Sir Henry Clinton’s 6th Division had been the first to cross the Tormes before the heavens opened. Through his covering parties, Sir John Hope’s 7th pushed onto the ridge opposite the Chapel, with Pack’s Portuguese Brigade to his right and with the other divisions remaining in the dead ground to the west, towards Carbajosa. Victor Alten’s light cavalry patrolled up at Calvarrasa de Abajo and Pelabravo, beyond the Pelagarcia brook. Hope had a German Jäger battalion – the Brunswick Oels – across the valley, providing picquets at the Chapel. Six or seven hundred yards away lay Foy’s picquets, in front of Calvarrasa de Abajo and, behind his division of 5,000 men, was that of Ferey, slightly larger. Marmont’s other six divisions (including Sarrut’s, recalled from rearguard duty at Huerta) moved south to join via Machacon, settling down for the night a couple of miles in rear of Foy. The positions are not precisely known, but Bonnet, Maucune and Thomières were the farthest south.
The map shows the two reversed L-shaped features that will concern us and which one must understand: the French one running from Pelabravo in the north via Calvarrasa de Arriba to the turning angle, which is to the east of the Greater Arapile, then running west along the Monte de Azan to the Pico de Miranda (whence it turns right again northwards, on a line to Aldea Tejada, so perhaps more of a horseshoe than an L). The much shorter English L runs from Santa Marta in the north to the Lesser Arapile, then turning briefly west above the village of Arapiles via the nearby feature of the Teso de San Miguel. The down-stroke of the reversed L is covered by what Leith Hay called ‘an extensive wood and on the summit of a plateau . . . with little variety of altitude, extended from . . . the Arapiles ... to the village of Santa Marta’.
The Arapile features are the only prominent objects on this landscape, flat and narrow topped, rocky ridges and 1,000 yards apart. The Greater is some 300 paces long and runs east-west with abrupt, rocky ends and a steep slope to the south, a gentler slope to the north. The Lesser is on the same alignment but is noticeably less long, of much the same height and easier to climb. Both hills stand about 200 feet above Arapiles village, behind which the near-by Teso is perhaps eighty feet higher. From both Arapiles and the Teso you can see great distances, yet the gently rolling undulations, punctuated by minor tributaries which all eventually run to the Tormes, create folds and basins dead to the eye. It is what a later age would term ‘good tank country’. Indeed, Salisbury Plain around the village of Imber, after a long hot summer, is a near comparison. The land was mostly grass, with very few trees – the odd stand of cork – except in and around the villages and on the slopes of the Pelagarcia; and extensively south of the French L.
The essence of the two L features is this: if Marmont looked to continue his previous marches around the right flank of the English, the Greater Arapile was as important to him as a doorpost to the door, around which he would turn, whilst retaining the relatively high ground for his march from the north turning then to the west, and which provided observation. Lord Wellington’s L, being a minor scale inside the larger French, provided both concealment behind it, and a shorter line for any troop movement needed from one arm to the other. After the days of parallel marching, which had been essentially a sterile tactical occupation, the Arapiles would provide a fruitful, tactical dimension, to the more alert or determined general. It should be stressed that Wellington’s ridge, which ended at the Lesser Arapile, entirely hid from the east any troops in rear until the observer’s eyes should move south, onto the Greater Arapile – and then only partially.
Before describing the day’s opening moves, we should perhaps consider the forces involved. It is proper that your author should acknowledge drawing on Charles Oman’s calculations and also those of Rory Muir (whose study of this battle is exhaustive in its detail). Unlike Oman, Muir does not dismiss as a cynical whitewash the official return of French casualties, between 18 July and 8 August, prepared by General Lamartiniere, Marmont’s Chief of Staff. However, it is well to repeat the usual point, that all Peninsular strength and casualty figures are as inaccurate as any stated times: both must always be taken as indicative only.
Starting with the relative strengths, the French would appear to field 46,700 all ranks and the allies 50,500, after taking into account the various estimated losses since the last reliable States (15 July on both sides), and adjusting for new arrivals and non-combatants such as gendarmes, engineers and sappers etc.
In terms of tactical fighting units, as a very rough guide, there appeared no great advantage to either side: seventy-three French battalions to sixty-eight allied, ten cavalry regiments to thirteen, seventy-eight guns to sixty-two (if we include the Spanish battery). You could say French cavalry inferiority was balanced by their superiority in guns – possibly more than balanced, given their expertise in the science of artillery. However, around all these nominal figures caveats apply.
Firstly, the cavalry odds were wider than the numbers indicate. Lord Wellington’s were in better condition generally, and the mounts of his five heavy dragoon regiments – which Marmont lacked entirely – tended to be markedly stronger and therefore more boisterous cross-country. All were well drilled, which should go without saying, but the French surprisingly were not. A fortnight earlier some 670 hacks, requisitioned from the army’s junior officers, had been issued to dismounted dragoons and chasseurs. So perhaps one in four or five of every troop were mounted on novice chargers. Of course, between the knees of experienced horsemen this would matter little in line or column; but when mounted man-to-man hand combat commenced – the prime phase of any charge against other cavalry – a severe disadvantage would arise in individual manoeuvring. A fortnight is not sufficient in which to develop the necessary schooling. And one in four or five troopers would know this, and would not enjoy the prospect.
The infantry were evenly balanced. Working from the States of 15 July, which we know not to be very relevant, but are at least indicative, Marmont’s average battalion bayonet strength was 548 and he had seventy-three battalions; Wellington’s was 592 and he had sixty-nine battalions. Of these, however, one third (twenty-three) were Portuguese battalions. Fifteen of these had, for some time, been allocated in brigades of three to each of five of Wellington’s divisions. Equally absorbed and reliable were the three KGL battalions operating as a brigade in the 1st Division, and two more battalions in the 7th; less so the ‘foreign’ battalions – the Chasseurs Britannique and the Brunswick Oels; the five Spanish battalions under Espana were independent, although of course like his two lancer regiments under Don Juan de Sanchez they received their orders direct from Wellington’s headquarters.
The allies’ infantry strength, therefore, is under the possible handicap of differing national characteristics, language and motivation (what Michael Glover delicately called ‘the variable fighting qualities of nationalities’); however, the situation was not new, a fair tradition of success having been constructed during the army’s previous experiences. One suspects only that a certain amount of crossing of fingers applied, to some of the Portuguese involvement, which in the event proved largely unnecessary. If Lord Wellington gave any thought to the fact that only
two thirds of his infantry were British line regiments, Marmont equally might ponder that only two thirds of his had ever faced British volleys. This might be argued as a good thing? Among the innocents who had never faced the British were all eight of Thomières’s battalions, and six out of eight of Taupin’s. Of course, ‘innocents’ is relevant only to British volleys, for these were all reliable, old established regiments, who had fought at Wagram (all of Thomières’s), Austerlitz (Taupin’s 17th Léger), and the 1808 invasion of Portugal (his 22nd and 65th Ligne).
To return to the story. Early that Wednesday morning, which dawned bright, sunny and serene, the intention of both commanders has been clearly enough expressed in their letters. Marmont sought to continue turning Wellington’s right flank, in hopes of a fleeting chance to swoop upon any mistake, in any event edging towards the road to Rodrigo; Lord Wellington sought to continue what had become a movement of retreat (not his choice of words), if necessary abandoning Salamanca, while covering Ciudad Rodrigo, and only contemplating action should ‘very advantageous circumstances’ present themselves. This day, the 22nd, was his best and last chance, before Chauvel joined with his cavalry brigade, to say nothing of King Joseph being on route from Madrid. To be on the safe side, he had sent his baggage away as the light grew stronger.
There is a wooded feature opposite the Chapel near Calvarrasa de Arriba. It is 100 feet higher than the Chapel. From it he could see Foy’s Division just over a mile away, and could probably make out other formations behind and to the south, although the wooded terrain made that difficult. At least he knew that Marmont had no troops up around Calvarrasa de Abajo or Pelabravo where his own flank cavalry patrols still stood. It already looked as if Marmont meant to continue his movement south and west.
The Marshal joined Foy somewhere in front of Calvarrasa de Arriba. Foy wrote:
The position of San Cristoval had been almost stripped of troops: we could see one English Division in a sparsely-planted wood within cannon-shot of Calvarrasa de Arriba, on the Salamanca road: very far behind a thin column was ascending the heights of Tejares: nothing more could be made out of Wellington’s army: all the rest was hidden from us by the chain of heights which runs from north to south, and ends in the high and precipitous knolls of the Arapiles. Wellington was on this chain, sufficiently near to us to recognise by means of the staff surrounding him.
So the 7th Division and Pack’s Portuguese were all they could see: six divisions were missing, later correctly presumed by Foy to be in the dead ground over the wooded crest. Nearly three miles of crest could hide a whole army. And lifting the eyes, this side of the skyline five miles away, beyond which lay the Salamanca to Rodrigo road, a long dust cloud clearly indicated a large rearwards movement. That skyline comprised wooded heights some 200 feet higher than the present ground. The left of the heights rested on the Tormes, offering Wellington an attractive blocking position covering the Rodrigo road. Marmont was therefore in no doubt about what the dust cloud showed. Writing later to Paris he explained that ‘Everything led me to believe that the enemy intended to occupy the position of Tejares (Aldea Tejada) which lay a league behind him, while at present he was a league and a half in front of Salamanca.’ Foy confirms this to have been his Marshal’s deduction, as they observed beside their horses, telescopes resting on saddles:
The Marshal had no definite plan: he thought that the English army was already gone off, or at least that it was going off, to take position on the heights of Tajares on the left (or farther) bank of the river Zurgain. He was tempted to make an attack on the one visible English Division, with which a skirmishing fire had already begun. He was fearing that this Division might get out of his reach! How little did he foresee the hapless lot of his own army that day! The wily Wellington was ready to give battle – the greater part of his host was collected, but masked behind the line of heights: he was showing nothing on the crest, lest his intention should be defined: he was waiting for our movement.
There of course speaks a deal of hindsight. Yes, Wellington was indeed closed up just over a mile away, and hidden; but you could readily understand Marmont’s interpretation. He saw what he wanted to see. Wellington was pulling back, and the division across on the immediate slopes was a rearguard. And the temptation to engage was apparently strong. He himself admitted only to the wish to ‘concentrate in front of him in order to take advantage of any opportunities’ but Foy’s diary implies his master thought seriously of attacking the 7th Division and Pack there and then; but deciding against it only after ‘much hesitation, as was customary’. He left Foy to visit Bonnet, to look at the scene from a different angle, telling Foy to remove the allied line of picquets from around the Chapel.
The time was variously recorded at 7am when the black-uniformed Brunswickers came under attack by Foy’s men. Lord Wellington not wanting any chance of French eyes approaching the 7th’s crest line, he reinforced the Oels with the 4th Caçadores from Pack’s brigade, and Hope’s 68th (Durhams). Both battalions, being light infantry, deployed chains of skirmishers, not formed lines. Along the wooded course of the Pelagarcia, towards Pelabravo, two more light battalions of the KGL also became involved in mild skirmishing, while Bock’s heavy and Alten’s light dragoons held Pelabravo and Calvarrasa de Abajo.
From the low casualty figures it appears that all this business around the Chapel, and to the north, was very low key. It continued, however, throughout the morning and into the early afternoon, whilst of course matters of greater moment were developing elsewhere. Perhaps bickering is a more appropriate word than skirmishing. The scene around the Chapel, sharp initially, turned rather inactive. A flavour is given by Private John Green, 68th:
Early on the morning of the 22nd July, we heard the firing of the advanced guard, and in less than ten minutes our regiment, being light infantry, was ordered forward: having reached the front, we saw the French picquets advancing on ours, and both were sharply engaged. In a moment the left wing was ordered to the front: no sooner did our advanced picquets perceive that they were supported by such a number of light troops, than they advanced on the French picquets, and drove them in confusion to the summit of a high hill; but the enemy receiving strong reinforcements, bore down on my brave comrades, who contested every inch with them. At this period a General came to the front, to see how things were going on: in a fit of passion he enquired, ‘Who commands here?’ The answer was ‘General Hope’. He said, ‘Where is he? The whole of the advanced picquets will be taken prisoners.’ General Hope came up at the time, but did not appear at all afraid that the men would be taken: he sent one of his aide-de-camps with directions for a squadron of light dragoons to support the skirmishers immediately: they came forward, and had only just taken their stand, when one of them, a youth of about twenty-one years of age, was killed. The enemy now retired to the top of the hill, and brought six pieces of cannon to play on us. About this time the watering parties of the 7th Division came to the valley for a supply of water: the French guns began to play on these unarmed and defenceless men; but not one of them was hurt, although shot and shell fell thickly amongst them; after this the enemy continued firing on us for some hours. We remained in this position until afternoon, but were not allowed to take off our accoutrements. About three o’clock the 95th rifle corps arriving, took our places, and we immediately marched off to join the Division.
The 68th lost twenty men all day, the KGL twenty-five, the Brunwickers and Caçadores rather more, but their records do not allow the answer to be unravelled. It seems that, after the initial flurry, neither local commander thought seriously to contest the ground, presumably knowing the centre of gravity was turning south. The withdrawal of French cavalry from the north, and the nonappearance at the Chapel of a formed French battalion, to strengthen Foy’s screen of skirmishers, was confirmation enough.
Major General Victor Alten had tracked the French horse a little too closely at this stage, taking a ball in the knee for his curiosity, thus giving the commander of
the KGL’s 1st Hussars, Lieutenant Colonel Arentschildt, that also of the 14th Light Dragoons. Both regiments withdrew to behind the 7th Division’s ridge, where Lord Wellington told them to rest. He replaced them with the 12th Light Dragoons from George Anson’s brigade, who reported continued peace around the two deserted villages. Bock’s heavies (the 1st and 2nd Dragoons KGL) remained on the left of the 7th Division. It was about 7.30am.
Within minutes of leaving Foy, Marmont saw the importance of the Greater Arapile hill, two miles south-west of the Chapel. Indeed, his eye would have been drawn to it, and to the lesser feature, while with Foy, since they lay but a few degrees left of his line of observation to the dust cloud made by the allies’ baggage train. Unbelievably, he could see no red coats on either Arapile. He immediately ordered Bonnet to seize both, via a covert approach through the woods to the south.
Wellington at much the same time, having quit the 7th Division’s observation post, and convinced his left flank had sufficient means of early warning, rode a mile south along the ridge to Cole’s 4th Division, where he met one of his Assistant Adjutants General, Lieutenant Colonel John Waters (of scouting officer fame) whom he found concerned at the unoccupied Arapiles sitting slap bang on what was then the right flank of the army. In the previous night’s electrical storm, the army having crossed the Tormes to bivouac behind the 7th Division’s ridge, the 4th Division as southernmost somehow ceased its deployment without including the Lesser Arapile. There is disagreement as to whether this was a misjudgement made in the poor visual conditions either of the previous dusk, or at first light that very day. That is, that in the gloom the Great Arapile was seen to be farther away and therefore less relevant than it was. But the reference in Napier that ‘These hills (plural) were neglected by the English General’ is plain enough. A critical letter to Thomas Graham from his old staff officer, Charles Cathcart, also clearly refers to both hills being unoccupied:
Salamanca 1812- Wellington’s Year of Victories Page 27