by Rory Muir
Carrié's dragoons, supported by a battalion of infantry and three light guns, crossed the Guarena in the face of Victor Alten's brigade of light cavalry (1st KGL Hussars and 14th Light Dragoons) which had already played an active role in guarding the flank of the allied retreat. Possibly Alten was caught by surprise with his men dispersed, for he let the French cross unopposed and form on firm ground beyond the sedgy banks of the river before he led his squadrons to attack them. Some accounts say that this attack was initially successful and that the French dragoons were broken and rallied on the supporting infantry; but other sources – including some British ones – make no such claim, and it is fairly clear that Alten's men were falling back in some disorder when the British 3rd Dragoons of Le Marchant's brigade arrived behind them. One of the officers of the 3rd wrote home a few weeks later: ‘On the 18th of July, the 3rd were ordered out in a hurry to support the 1st Hussars and 14th [Light Dragoons] who at that Time were completely clubbed and running away, until a charge from the Third turned the Tide.’ Other sources support his claim.16 Alten's men rallied behind the dragoons and the French cavalry were put to flight. Carrié himself was captured: he had been in the thick of the fight, and in the confusion and dust had lost touch with his escort – a company of the 15th Dragoons – and had found himself surrounded by German hussars; he received five wounds before surrendering.17 Alten's regiments lost 135 casualties between them (including twenty-one killed and thirteen missing), suggesting some rough handling, although these figures include casualties suffered earlier in the day. The 3rd Dragoons lost only ten casualties. There are no reliable figures for French losses, but Martinien names six officers of dragoons as well as Brigadier Carrié as having been killed or wounded on the Guarena, which suggests that they suffered about fifty rank-and-file casualties. Curto's light cavalry suffered similarly, so that the French cavalry as a whole probably lost rather more than a hundred casualties on this day.18
While the cavalry combat swayed back and forth, Taupin's division had crossed the river and was climbing the heights beyond. It seems to have been formed in three regimental columns, that is, each regiment advancing on a front of only two companies, one battalion behind the other.19 A staff officer who accompanied the division, and who wrote some unreliable memoirs many years later, was highly critical of Taupin for crowding his units together and judging the ground poorly, while the French infantry must have been tired from their long marches.20 Nor was the allied position unoccupied. Wellington had arrived on the scene and ordered General Cole, commander of the allied Fourth Division, to attack the French with two of his brigades. Cole advanced with the British 27th and 40th Regiments of W. Anson's brigade deployed in line, supported on either flank by the Portuguese 11th and 23rd Regiments of Stubbs's brigade formed in close columns. Thus his formation resembled Napoleon's favoured l'ordre mixte, though the flanking columns were perhaps more independent.21 This was a strong force of about 3,200 men (1,200 British, 2,000 Portuguese). If all Taupin's eight battalions were engaged, the French would have had about 4,200 men, but prisoners later said that only six battalions had advanced, giving them about 3,000 men.22
A surgeon with the Fourth Division describes what happened: ‘the 27th & 40th Regts. … advanced to the charge in the most undaunted manner … the French presented a firm front, till our People arrived within about twenty paces of them, when they fired a volley and flew in the utmost confusion.’ Lieutenant T. H. Browne, an officer on the staff, confirms this account and adds some interesting details:
The enemy stood & fired little. They were very firm until within fifty or sixty paces, when our fellows gave them the Bayonet with cheers, routed the column & left of the French about 80 dead & 100 prisoners besides wounded. Our men charged at too great a distance, their ranks were in confusion, & they were so breathless & exhausted when they came up with the French, that they could scarcely use the Bayonet.
As neither of these descriptions makes clear whether the British fired before they charged, it is worth quoting the letter of an officer of the Light Division on the point, even though his account must be second-hand: ‘The 4th Division allowed them to come to the top before they fired a shot. They gave them a volley & charged them down the hill, killing them as fast as they could with their bayonets & their officers were obliged to assist with their swords.’ Thus, the emphasis in all these accounts is on the charge, whatever the actual number of casualties inflicted in the melee, rather than on British musketry.23
British sources stress the role of the two British battalions, but the French officer's account mentioned above attributes the defeat to ‘Three or four battalions of Portuguese, [who] having put down their packs, rushed down the hill which they occupied, and hurled themselves on [Taupin's] division, with a rolling fire on our massed troops.’24 Not all these details may be accurate, but it does seem likely that the Portuguese took an equal share in defeating Taupin.
Many accounts mention that the allied infantry were too weary to pursue effectively, and that although Alten's cavalry joined in the chase they were unable to inflict much damage. It seems likely that the leading regiment of Clausel's own division, the 25th Léger, crossed the Guarena and covered Taupin's retreat.25 At any rate, this regiment was engaged, losing one officer killed and five wounded, which suggests about a hundred casualties in all, perhaps a few more. Taupin's regiments had lost even more heavily: Martinien lists sixteen officer casualties including four killed and two mortally wounded, suggesting total losses close to five hundred. When the casualties of the cavalry are included it seems probable that Clausel's venture across the Guarena cost the French army about eight hundred casualties, showing that this was no trifling skirmish.26
The two British battalions of Anson's brigade suffered 141 casualties, including 21 killed, although these figures would contain at least some losses on the march to the Guarena. Stubbs's losses are less clear, for all the Portuguese losses on the day are aggregated into a single line: 157 in total, including 34 killed and 27 missing; but it is reasonable to assume that the great majority of these were suffered in the fight against Taupin. In all, the allied army lost 542 casualties on 18 July, so that Wellington had not only extricated his army from a difficult position, but actually inflicted more casualties than he suffered – not that such numerical calculations have much significance.27
Marmont's elaborate plan of campaign, his deception at Toro and countermarch to Tordesillas thus brought no definite advantage. Napier goes further and strongly criticizes him for not continuing his initial advance from Toro, claiming that the French could have made good their threat to Wellington's communications and so forced Wellington to fight at a disadvantage or ignominiously to abandon Salamanca.28 But this is doubtful, and in any case ignores the reasons which lay behind Marmont's manoeuvres: his fears may not have been well founded, but they were not unreasonable. And even if the events of 18 July brought no tangible advantages to the French, Marmont's plan had not misfired. He had brought his whole army safely across the Duero in the face of a superior enemy, and he had seized the initiative, imposing his will on his opponent. Wellington had been out-foxed, and both generals knew it. For the next few days Marmont would dictate the pace and shape of events, while Wellington merely reacted and hoped for a change in fortune. Marmont's natural confidence and Wellington's habitual caution were thus both increased by the opening of the campaign.
Wellington may have expected – even hoped – that Marmont would attack him on 19 July, but the French marshal wisely continued to prefer to manoeuvre than to take the bull by the horns. He allowed his men to rest all the morning and early afternoon, and this pause permitted many stragglers to join. Then, when Wellington was ready to conclude that the whole day would be spent quietly, Marmont put his army into motion, marching south or southwest, up the Guarena and in the general direction of Salamanca, a little more than twenty miles away. Wellington matched Marmont's movement, attempting nothing venturesome but making no mistake which would gi
ve the French the opportunity of striking.
The parallel march continued on the following day and gradually the two armies grew closer as the valley of the Guarena shrank to nothing, leaving the opposing forces less than a mile apart. Many officers commented on the extraordinary and ‘beautiful’ sight of the two armies marching in close order so near each other. Any mistake – a break in the line, confusion crossing rough ground or one division marching more rapidly than the next – would have opened the way for the other side to attack, but none was made, and after some miles the two armies slightly diverged. Towards evening Wellington called a halt and camped his army around Cabezabellosa and Aldea Rubia, just in front of the position of San Cristobal where he covered all the approaches to Salamanca from the north or north-east. But Marmont pressed on for a few miles, giving his soldiers another gruelling march, halting at last around Babilafuente, with his advanced guard securing the fords of Huerta over the Tormes. This meant that he could continue to turn Wellington's southern flank and might force the allies to choose between attacking the French and abandoning Salamanca. Charles Cathcart, a well-connected, well-informed staff officer, wrote home that ‘Lord Wellington was amazingly angry when He found that the Enemy had reached the River and I believe that if there had been more daylight [he] would have attacked them then, however there was no remedy.’29
Early on 21 July Wellington occupied the San Cristobal position again, a month after he had declined the opportunity of attacking Marmont's then much weaker army. This time Marmont ignored the allied position and gradually brought his army across the Tormes at the fords of Huerta and Encinas. He also occupied Alba de Tormes a few miles further upstream where there was a bridge. The castle of Alba de Tormes had been occupied by a Spanish battalion, but this had been withdrawn by Carlos de España, the Spanish commander, who concluded, reasonably enough, that the allied army was in retreat and that if the troops were not withdrawn they would be cut off and sacrificed to no advantage. Unfortunately, he failed to inform Wellington of what he had done – one version of the story even says that, after issuing the orders, España proposed the move to Wellington who rejected it, and that España then lacked the courage to admit that the step had already been taken.30
Wellington watched while most of the French army crossed the Tormes in the distance: the armies were now too far apart for him readily to attack the French rear, and in any case Marmont kept his units in hand, with a strong guard of two divisions protecting the passage of the river. By the night of 21 July all but Sarrut's division were on the southern side of the Tormes, and the outposts were holding the village of Calvarrasa de Abajo. Again Wellington conformed to these movements, bringing the bulk of his army across the river at the fords of Cabrerizos and Santa Marta, while leaving the Third Division and D'Urban's cavalry in the San Cristobal position in case Sarrut tried to threaten Salamanca from the north bank.
That night there was a fierce thunderstorm which figures prominently in most memoirs of the campaign. Private John Green of the 68th Foot in the Seventh Division gives a vivid account of what it was like for the soldiers:
[We] encamped about eight o'clock at night. We had not, however, been long at rest, before a most alarming storm came on: the thunder in awful claps echoed through the wood; the flashes of lightning were vivid, and quick in succession; the rain fell in torrents, and, what added to our distress, was, we were exposed to the open air, not having a tent or any thing else to cover us. Several of the cavalry horses broke from their stakes, and caused great confusion in the different regiments of cavalry. The suspense we had been in during the last few days, being in expectation of an engagement every hour, made our situation extremely uncomfortable; indeed at this period the enemy was within two miles of our advanced guard. Notwithstanding the great rains which had fallen during the night, I contrived to keep myself dry, by getting directly under the arm of a large tree, and creeping under the blanket of an old comrade, who is now fixed in business in this country. It was astonishing to see the cheerfulness of the men: I have known them tell tales, sing songs, and crack their jokes, in the midst of danger, and when it was uncertain whether they would live to see another day over. About midnight the storm ceased, the morning was beautiful, the sun rose without a cloud, and everything had a most enchanting appearance.31
Other sources agree that the general mood of the allied army that night was less despondent than might have been expected. The retreat from the Duero and the prospect of abandoning Salamanca irritated the army rather than shaking its self-confidence, as Kincaid makes clear with characteristic jauntiness:
There assuredly never was an army so anxious as ours was to be brought into action on this occasion. They were a magnificent body of well-tried soldiers, highly equipped, and in the highest health and spirits, with the most devoted confidence in their leader, and an invincible confidence in themselves. The retreat of the four preceding days had annoyed us beyond measure, for we believed that we were nearly equal to the enemy in point of numbers; and the idea of our retiring before an equal number of any troops in the world was not to be endured with common patience.32
Their patience was not to be tried for much longer.
Commentary
The reasons for Wellington's decision not to attack Marmont on 20 and 21 June are discussed further in chapter two (pp. 37–9 below), but some additional evidence can be given here of the dissatisfaction which it caused in the army. Edward Pakenham wrote to Sir George Murray on 24 August:
Marmont you know advanced a day or two after, and committed his people desperately by running slap up against our position, which covered the Town & fords (in a Wild [?] unconnected way) & where he remained for two days playing the Bully. Had it not been for a certain Marshal [i.e. Beresford] (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.33
And years later a corporal in the First Division recalled:
We expected nothing else but to make an immediate attack upon the whole of the enemy's line. We had a great advantage of the French by our position. … I thought we might have given them a complete drubbing here; and everyone thought the same, from Graham down to the private soldier. … Graham was mad to get at them: it was said he went home in two days afterwards, because Wellington would not let him engage.34
This gives some plausibility to the statement in a relatively early secondary source that Wellington's decision ‘was publicly understood by the army [to be] against the opinion of Graham, Picton, Leith, Cotton and Pakenham; all of whom were urgent for an immediate attack.’35 Even if this statement is not accepted at face value, it probably reflects the feeling in the army at the time; not that Wellington was ever much influenced by the opinions of his subordinates.
There are many first-hand accounts of the manoeuvring and fighting on 18 July: far more than could be quoted or discussed in the main narrative. Captain Tomkinson of the 16th Light Dragoons gives the most detailed and interesting account of the first part of the day in his diary. He had been sent out on a predawn patrol with six men to discover if the French had really crossed the Duero in force: if not, Cotton had hopes of driving them back to the river. Not surprisingly, he scarcely got beyond the allied outposts before running into strong French forces and was glad to find refuge with the 11th Light Dragoons, who in turn retired on the rest of the brigade. Tomkinson admits that ‘We were a good deal pressed, and once obliged to turn round and charge.’ The French then brought up some guns and began to bombard the allied cavalry. At first the allied horse artillery were able to respond to this effectively, but more French guns arrived, ‘which obliged our guns to retire’. The French then concentrated their fire on the allied cavalry, and with some effect, as Tomkinson admits:
their fire against my troop … before I could move off killed Corporal Hardiman and Dragoon Stone (the shot, round shot, hit him on the belly, and sent pieces of his inside all over the troop – a pie
ce on Lieutenant Lloyd's shoulder, the first time he ever was in action – he lived an hour), wounding four others and five horses. It was the sharpest cannonade, for the time, we were, or I, was ever exposed to, and almost impossible to get the men away in complete order.36
Frederick Ponsonby, commanding the 12th Light Dragoons in the same brigade, is more prosaic, but admits that there were ‘two hours' sharp cannonading and skirmishing. I lost 16 men and 17 horses.’ The official return shows that the 12th lost slightly more than this: five men killed, one officer and twelve men wounded and another man missing, or nineteen casualties in all; the 16th Light Dragoons suffered fifteen casualties, and the 11th sixteen.37
Kincaid and Tomkinson give the best accounts of the incident in which Wellington and the allied staff were briefly caught up with the French cavalry, but several other sources also mention it. Colonel Campbell, the Headquarters Commandant, wrote home that ‘The Enemy's Cavalry showed a great deal of dash, they gave Ld. Wellington and the Hd. Quarters Staff a long Gallop when Reconnoitring this Morning.’ George Hennell of the 43rd says that, afterwards, ‘All our officers were in a perfect rage’, which confirms one aspect of Kincaid's story. T. H. Browne is more explicit: ‘two or three of our Squadrons, 11th & 12th did not behave well. They were close to Ld. Wellington & would have lost the two guns attached to them but for the bravery of the Horse Artillery. Marshal Beresford was nearly taken in endeavouring to rally them.’38 It is interesting that a staff officer readily puts the blame for the incident on the troops, while Tomkinson, a regimental officer, blames the interference of some of Beresford's staff. If Tomkinson was less reliable, one might think he was seeking to divert blame from his own regiment, but his Diary is one of the most highly regarded of all Peninsular sources. It is disappointing that there is no mention of the episode in the generally excellent – and entertaining – letters of William Warre, an officer on Beresford's staff.