Badajoz and Salamanca
(1812)
“_I shall not give the thing up without good cause._”
WELLINGTON.
Considerable energy was displayed by the troops in the siege
operations at Badajoz, notwithstanding the persistent torrents of
rain which soaked the men to the skin and filled the trenches as they
worked. A bridge of pontoons was carried away and the flying bridges
irretrievably injured by the swollen state of the Guadiana. The place
was by no means an easy one to take, for strong outworks defended it,
and Philippon, the French Governor, was a most able officer in whom his
troops placed every confidence. However, good fortune did not attend
the first sortie made by about 2000 of the enemy on the 19th March.
They were “almost immediately driven in, without effecting any object,
with considerable loss, by Major-General Bowes, who commanded the guard
in the trenches,” to quote from Wellington’s official dispatch.
On the 25th an attack was made on fort Picurina, an advanced post
separated from Badajoz by the little river called the Rivillas.
Twenty-eight guns in six batteries were brought to bear upon it, and
after dark the place was carried by storm, although it was protected
by three rows of palisades defended by musketry. The garrison of the
outwork consisted of about 250 men. Of these ninety, including the
colonel, were taken prisoners, and most of the others were either
killed or drowned in the swollen stream. An attempt was made to succour
the brave defenders, but the soldiers were driven back before they
could come up to the Picurina. The possession of this outwork enabled
Wellington to place guns within 300 yards of the body of the place,
and on the following day two breaching batteries began their work of
destruction, with the result that on the 6th April three breaches were
declared to be practicable.
At ten o’clock that night the attempt was to be made, the 3rd Division
under Picton escalading the castle, the 4th Division with General
the Hon. C. Colville attacking the bastion of La Trinidad, the Light
Division commanded by Colonel Barnard the bastion of Santa Maria,
General Leith’s 5th Division the bastion of San Vincente. The attack on
the bastions was to be made by storming the breaches. Wellington stood
on rising ground facing the main breach, accompanied by the Prince of
Orange and Lord March.
“When the head of the Light Division arrived at the ditch of the place
(the great breach) it was a beautiful moonlight night,” Sir Harry
Smith relates with the authority of a participant in the action.[72]
“Old Alister Cameron, who was in command of four Companies of the
95th Regiment, extended along the counterscarp to attract the enemy’s
fire, while the column planted their ladders and descended, came up
to Barnard and said, ‘Now my men are ready; shall I begin?’ ‘No,
certainly not,’ says Barnard. The breach and the works were full of
the enemy, looking quietly at us, but not fifty yards off and most
prepared, although _not firing a shot_. So soon as our ladders were
all ready posted, and the columns in the very act to move and rush
down the ladders, Barnard called out, ‘_Now_, Cameron!’ and the first
shot from us brought down such a hail of fire as I shall never forget,
nor ever saw before or since. It was most murderous. We flew down
the ladders and rushed at the breach, but we were broken, and carried
no weight with us, although every soldier was a hero. The breach was
covered by a breastwork from behind, and ably defended on the top by
_chevaux-de-frises_ of sword-blades, sharp as razors, chained to the
ground; while the ascent to the top of the breach was covered with
planks with sharp nails in them.... One of the officers of the forlorn
hope, lieutenant Taggart of the 43rd, was hanging on my arm--a mode we
adopted to help each other up, for the ascent was most difficult and
steep. A Rifleman stood among the sword-blades on the top of one of
the _chevaux-de-frises_. We made a glorious rush to follow, but, alas!
in vain. He was knocked over. My old captain, O’Hare, who commanded
the storming party, was killed. All were awfully wounded except, I do
believe, myself and little Freer of the 43rd. I had been some seconds
at the _revétement_ of the bastion near the breach, and my red-coat
pockets were literally filled with chips of stones splintered by
musket-balls. Those not knocked down were driven back by this hail of
mortality to the ladders. At the foot of them I saw poor Colonel McLeod
with his hands on his breast.... He said, ‘Oh, Smith, I am mortally
wounded. Help me up the ladder.’ I said, ‘Oh, no, dear fellow!’ ‘I am,’
he said; ‘be quick!’ I did so, and came back again. Little Freer and
I said, ‘Let us throw down the ladders; the fellows shan’t go out.’
Some soldiers behind said, ‘... if you do we will bayonet you!’ and
we were literally forced up with the crowd. My sash had got loose,
and one end of it was fast in the ladder, and the bayonet was very
nearly applied, but the sash by pulling became loose. So soon as we got
on the glacis, up came a fresh Brigade of the Portuguese of the 4th
Division. I never saw any soldiers behave with more pluck. Down into
the ditch we all went again, but the more we tried to get up, the more
we were destroyed. The 4th Division followed us in marching up to the
breach, and they made a most uncommon noise. The French saw us, but
took no notice.... Both Divisions were fairly beaten back; we never
carried either breach (nominally there were two breaches).... There is
no battle, day or night, I would not willingly react except this. The
murder of our gallant officers and soldiers is not to be believed.”
The attack on the castle was no less furious. Again and again the
ladders were hurled back, but they were always put in place again,
notwithstanding the fearful and continuous fire to which the assailants
were subjected. Great beams of timber, stones, everything calculated to
kill or maim a man were regarded as useful weapons by the defenders.
Nothing came amiss to them in their determined defence. Scores of
soldiers were flung down, when another minute of safety would have
enabled them to secure a footing on the ramparts. They fell in the
ditch, often injuring or killing others besides themselves. At last
Lieutenant-Colonel Ridge managed to place two ladders at a spot which
had not been used before, and where the wall was lower. The officer
scaled one, followed by his men, and reached the rampart. The surprised
garrison was repulsed, and very soon the castle was in the hands of the
British. Poor Ridge did not live to reap his richly-deserved reward. He
was killed before the conclusion of the assault.
[Illustration: Wellington at Badajos congratulating Colonel Watson
R. Caton Woodville]
A little while previous to the successful termination of the attack Dr
James McGregor and Dr Forbes approached Wellington. “His lordship,”
says the former, “was so intent on what was going on, that I believe he
did not observe us. Soon after our arrival, an officer came up with an
unfavourable report of the assault, announcing that Colonel McLeod and
several officers were killed, with heaps of men who choked the approach
to the breach. At the place where we stood we were within hearing of
the voices of the assailants and the assailed, and it was now painful
to notice that the voices of our countrymen had grown fainter, while
the French cry of ‘_Avancez, étrillons ces Anglais_,’ became
stronger. Another officer came up with still more unfavourable reports,
that no progress was being made, for almost all the officers were
killed, and none left to lead on the men, of whom a great many had
fallen.
“At this moment I cast my eyes on the countenance of Lord Wellington,
lit up by the glare of the torch held by Lord March. I never shall
forget it to the last moment of my existence, and I could even now
sketch it. The jaw had fallen, the face was of unusual length, while
the torch-light gave his countenance a lurid aspect; but still the
expression of the face was fair. Suddenly turning to me and putting his
hand on my arm, he said, ‘Go over immediately to Picton, and tell him
he must try if he cannot succeed on the castle.’ I replied, ‘My lord,
I have not my horse with me, but I will walk as fast as I can, and I
think I can find the way; I know part of the road is swampy.’ ‘No, no,’
he replied, ‘I beg your pardon, I thought it was De Lancey.’ I repeated
my offer, saying I was sure I could find the way, but he said ‘No.’
“Another officer arrived, asking loudly, ‘Where is Lord Wellington?’
He came to announce that Picton was in the castle. He was desired
instantly to go to the breach, and to request the stormers to renew
their efforts, announcing what had befallen; and immediately Lord
Wellington called for his own horse, and followed by the Prince and
Lord March, rode to the breach.”
General Walker, leading the assault on San Vincente, experienced
much the same rough treatment as the other divisions, but eventually
succeeded in forcing his way into the town.
Philippon and a few hundred men managed to cross the Guadiana and found
refuge in Fort San Christoval, only to surrender the following morning.
The price paid by the victors in dead and wounded during the siege was
nearly 5000 men; those of the enemy who laid down their arms numbered
some 3800. The glory of the triumphant army was unfortunately tarnished
by the gross misconduct of the men, and it was not until a gallows was
raised that a stop was put to their evil ways.
Wellington was now anxious to meet Soult as soon as Badajoz was put in
a state of defence, but when he received the ill news of the defeat of
the French garrison the Marshal promptly retired to Seville. As Marmont
was threatening Almeida and Ciudad Rodrigo the British General had
no alternative but to turn northward. He had to thank the Spaniards
for this. By neglecting to provision the places they had practically
placed them at the mercy of the enemy should he appear in considerable
numbers. They were already blockading the latter place. “If Ciudad
Rodrigo had been provisioned,” Wellington writes to his brother Henry,
“as I had a right to expect, there was nothing to prevent me from
marching to Seville at the head of 40,000 men, the moment the siege of
Badajoz was concluded.” It was, of course, very important that the line
of communication between Marmont and Soult should be impeded as much as
possible, and Hill was given this important task. Failing to surprise
Almarez, the General pushed on to Fort Napoleon, on the other side of
the Tagus, which was captured as well as Fort Ragusa. False information
alone prevented Hill from following up his victories. He was told that
Soult was in Estremadura, and he withdrew to the Guadiana.
Wellington began his advance, and on the 13th June crossed the
Agueda. On his approach to Salamanca he at once laid siege to three
newly-erected forts, “each defending the other.” Marmont, knowing the
likelihood of such an event, had wisely stored a good supply of food in
them, so that there was a likelihood of their being able to hold out
until he could succour them. The Marshal made one or two demonstrations
to no good effect. He as obstinately declined to begin offensive
measures as Wellington declined to be enticed to leave his strong
position on the heights of San Christoval.
It took Wellington some time to secure the forts, which were well
built and equipped, but on the 27th they fell into his hands, two
by storm and one by capitulation. The last mentioned was being
attacked when the flag was hauled down and would doubtless have been
captured had not the commander given way before the British made good
their assault. Marmont thereupon retired behind the Douro to await
reinforcements.
After having destroyed some military works at Alba de Tormes and
garrisoned the castle of Salamanca with Spaniards, Wellington pushed
forward and engaged Marmont’s rearguard on the 2nd July. He took up a
position on the left bank of the Douro, on the opposite side of that
occupied by the enemy, who was shortly afterwards strengthened by the
support of Bonnet’s division from the Asturias. Near Tordesillas, which
with Toro and Tudela was held by the French, the Marshal took courage
and fought an action with Sir Stapleton Cotton, who was in command of
Wellington’s right, on the 18th July. To resist him was impossible,
for he had secured all the bridges and many of the fords. The action
began at dawn, and Cotton gallantly maintained his post, but the enemy
managed to turn the left flank of the British position. “The troops,”
says Wellington in his official report, “retired in admirable order to
Torrecilla de la Orden, having the enemy’s whole army on their flank,
or in their rear, and thence to Guareña, which river they passed under
the same circumstances, and effected their junction with the army.”
Wellington fell back to within two miles of Salamanca, his left resting
on the Tormes, his right abutting on two hills called Los Aripeles;[73]
Marmont secured the heights of Nuestra Señora de la Peña.
Many years after the battle of Salamanca, General Alava, a Spanish
officer at the British headquarters, was at Wellington’s breakfast
table at Walmer, and he regaled the company with the story of the great
soldier’s breakfast on the 22nd July 1812. Croker has recorded it for
us, with the comment that the Duke listened “as quietly as if it
related to another person.”
“The Duke had been very busy all the morning, and had not thought of
breakfast, and the staff had grown very hungry; at last, however, there
was a pause (I think he said about two) near a farmyard surrounded by
a wall, where a kind of breakfast was spread on the ground, and the
staff alighted and fell to; while they were eating, the Duke rode into
the enclosure; he refused to alight, and advised them to make haste;
he seemed anxious and on the look-out. At last they persuaded him to
take a bit of bread and the leg of a cold roast fowl, which he was
eating without knife from his fingers, when suddenly they saw him throw
the leg of the fowl far away over his shoulder, and gallop out of the
yard, calling to them to follow him. The fact is, he had been waiting
to have the French _sighted_ at a certain gap in the hills, and that
was to be the signal of a long-meditated and long-suspended attack. ‘I
knew,’ says Alava, with grave drollery, ‘that something _very serious
was about to happen when an article so precious as the leg of a roast
fowl was thus thrown away_.’” Croker adds that “the Duke sat by with
his head inclined, quite silent, but with a quiet smile which seemed to
say that the narration was a good deal pleasanter than the reality had
been.”
Wellington was able to seize the nearer hill but the French secured the
other, while another miniature height named Nuestra Señora de la Peña
was the centre of a most desperate conflict, which continued through
the long hours of the day. Marmont made the fatal error of dividing his
army, sending Thomière’s division to turn the British right flank, with
intent to cut off all hope of retreat on the part of Wellington, should
he wish to do so, by means of the Ciudad Rodrigo road. This movement
separated the French left wing from the centre, and this it was that
caused the British Commander to fling away the dearly prized leg of a
chicken.
[Illustration: The End of Breakfast
Thomas Maybank]
After looking through his glass with wrapt attention Wellington
turned to his Spanish colleague with the words, “My dear Alava, Marmont
is undone!” His active brain told him at once of his enemy’s mistake.
Having made his dispositions he ordered Pakenham, his brother-in-law,
to throw the 3rd Division into line and cross the march of Thomière’s
columns. “It shall be done; give me your hand,” replied that energetic
officer. He hurled the Portuguese cavalry, two squadrons of the 14th
Light Dragoons, and the “Fighting 3rd” at the flank and rear of the
French left. Other divisions under Cole, Leith, Bradford, and Cotton
attacked the enemy in front. “No sooner was Pakenham in motion towards
the heights,” says one who took part in the battle, “than the ridge he
was about to assail was crowned with twenty pieces of cannon, while
in the rear of this battery were seen Foy’s division, endeavouring to
regain its place in the combat. A flat space of 1000 yards in breadth
was to be crossed before Pakenham could reach the height.
“The French batteries opened a heavy fire, while the two brigades of
artillery, commanded by Captain Douglas, posted on a rising ground
behind the 3rd Division, replied to them with much warmth. Pakenham’s
men may thus be said to have been between two fires, that of our own
guns firing over their heads, while the French balls passed through
their ranks, ploughing up the ground in every direction; but the
veteran troops which composed the 3rd Division were not shaken even by
this.
“Wallace’s three regiments advanced in open columns, until within 250
yards of the ridge held by the French infantry. Foy’s column, 5000
strong, had by this time reached their ground, while in their front the
face of the hill had been hastily garnished with riflemen. All were
impatient to engage, and the calm but stern advance of Pakenham’s right
brigade was received with beating of drums and loud cheers from the
French, whose light troops, hoping to take advantage of the time which
the deploying into line would take, ran down the face of the hill in a
state of great excitement, but Pakenham, who was naturally of a boiling
spirit and hasty temper, was on this day perfectly cool. He told
Wallace to form line from open column without halting, and thus the
different companies, by throwing forward their right shoulders, were in
a line without the slow manœuvre of deployment.
“Astonished at the rapidity of the movement, the French riflemen
commenced an irregular and hurried fire, and even at this early stage
of the battle a looker-on could, from the difference in the demeanour
of the troops of the two nations, form a tolerably correct opinion
of what the result would be. Regardless of the fire of the riflemen,
and the showers of grape and canister, Pakenham continued to press
forward; his centre suffered, but still advanced; his right and left,
being less oppressed by the weight of the fire, continued to advance at
a more rapid pace, and as his wings inclined forward and outstripped
the centre, his right brigade assumed the form of a crescent. The
manœuvre was a bold as well as a novel one, and the appearance of
the brigade imposing and unique; because it so happened that all the
British officers were in front of their men--a rare occurrence. The
French officers were also in front, but their relative duties were
widely different--the latter encouraging their men into the heat of the
battle--the former keeping their devoted soldiers back--what a splendid
national contrast!”
When the brow of the hill was reached the men were subjected to a
murderous hail of fire from Foy’s division. Nearly all of Wallace’s
first rank, as well as many officers, fell beneath it. But the others,
urged by their commander, pressed on with fixed bayonets, and the
French troops were forced backward. Thomière was amongst the killed,
and many were taken prisoners in the rout which followed.
“Immediately on our left,” the narrative continues, “the 5th Division
were discharging vollies against the French 4th; and Pack’s brigade
could be seen mounting the Aripeles height, but disregarding
everything except the complete destruction of the column before him,
Pakenham followed it with the brigade of Wallace, supported by the
reserves of his division.
“The battle at this point would have been decided on the moment,
had the heavy horse under Le Marchant been near enough to sustain
him. The confusion of the enemy was so great that they became mixed
pell-mell together, without any regard to order or regularity, and it
was manifest that nothing short of a miracle could save Foy from total
destruction. Sir Edward Pakenham continued to press on at the head of
Wallace’s brigade, but Foy’s troops outran him. Had Le Marchant been
aware of this state of the combat, or been near enough to profit by
it, Pakenham would have settled the business by six o’clock instead
of seven. An hour, at any period during a battle, is a serious loss
of time, but in this action every moment was of vital import. Day was
rapidly drawing to a close: the Tormes was close behind the army of
Marmont, ruin stared him in the face; in a word, his left wing was
doubled up--lost; and Pakenham could have turned to the support of the
4th and 5th Divisions, had our cavalry been ready to back Wallace at
the moment he pierced the column. This, beyond doubt, was the moment
by which to profit, that the enemy might not have time to re-collect
himself; but, while Le Marchant was preparing to take part in the
combat, Foy, with admirable presence of mind, remedied the terrible
confusion of his division, and calling up a first brigade to his
support, once more led his men into the fight, assumed the offensive,
and Pakenham was now about to be assailed in turn. This was the most
critical moment of the battle; Boyer’s horsemen stood before us,
inclining towards our right, which was flanked by two squadrons of
the 14th Dragoons and two regiments of Portuguese cavalry; but we had
little dependence upon the Portuguese, and it behoved us to look to
ourselves.
“Led on by the ardour of conquest, we had followed the column until
at length we found ourselves in an open plain, intersected with
cork trees, opposed by a multitude, who, reinforced, again rallied,
and turned upon us with fury. Pakenham, Wallace, Seton, and Mackie,
rode along the line from wing to wing, almost from rank to rank, and
fulfilled the functions of adjutants in assisting the officers to
reorganise the tellings-off of the men for square. Meanwhile the first
battalion of the 5th drove back some squadrons of Boyer’s dragoons; the
other six regiments were fast approaching the point held by Wallace,
but the French cavalry in our front and upon our right flank caused
Pakenham some uneasiness.
“The peals of musketry along the centre still continued without
intermission; the smoke was so thick that nothing to our left was
distinguishable; some men of the 5th Division got intermingled with
ours; the dry grass was set on fire by the numerous cartridge papers
that strewed the field of battle; the air was scorching, and the smoke
rolling on in huge volumes, nearly suffocated us.
“A loud cheering was heard in our rear--the brigade turned half round,
supposing themselves about to be attacked by the French cavalry. A few
seconds passed--the trampling of horse was heard--the smoke cleared
away, and the heavy brigade of Le Marchant was seen coming forward in a
line at a canter. ‘Open right and left,’ was an order quickly obeyed;
the line opened, the cavalry passed through the intervals, and forming
rapidly in our front prepared for their work.
“The French column, which a moment before held so imposing an attitude,
became startled at this unexpected sight. A victorious and highly
excited infantry pressed closely upon them; a splendid brigade of three
regiments of cavalry, ready to burst through their ill-arranged and
beaten column, while no appearance of succour was at hand to protect
them, was enough to appal the boldest intrepidity. The plain was filled
with the vast multitude; retreat was impossible, and the troopers
came still pouring in, to join their comrades already prepared for
the attack. It was too much for their nerves, and they sank under its
influence, although they bravely made an effort to face the danger.
“Hastily, yet with much regularity, all things considered, they
attempted to get into the square; but Le Marchant’s brigade galloped
forward before the evolution was half completed.
“The column hesitated, wavered, tottered, and then stood still! The
motion of the countless bayonets, as they clashed together, might be
likened to a forest about to be assailed by a tempest, whose first
warnings announce the ravage it is about to inflict. Foy’s division
vomited forth a dreadful volley of fire as the horsemen thundered
across the flat; Le Marchant was killed,[74] and fell downright in
the midst of the French bayonets; but his brigade pierced through the
vast mass, killing or trampling down all before them. The conflict was
severe, and the troopers fell thick and fast, but their long, heavy
swords, cut through bone as well as flesh....
“Such as got away from the sabres of the horsemen, sought safety among
the ranks of our infantry, and scrambling under the horses, ran to
us for protection, like men who, having escaped the first shock of
a wreck, will cling to any broken spar, no matter how little to be
depended on. Hundreds of beings frightfully disfigured, in whom the
human face and form were almost obliterated--black with dust, worn down
with fatigue, and covered with sabre cuts and blood--threw themselves
among us for safety. Not a man was bayoneted--not even molested or
plundered.”
The battle still raged with unabated fury; “immediately in front of the
5th Division, Leith fell wounded as he led on his men, but his division
carried the point in dispute, and drove the enemy before them up the
hill.
“While these events were taking place on the right, the 4th Division,
which formed the centre of the army, met with a serious opposition.
The more distant Aripeles, occupied by the French 122nd, whose numbers
did not count more than 400, supported by a few pieces of cannon, was
left to the Portuguese brigade of General Pack, amounting to 2000
bayonets. Falsely, though with well-founded reliance--their former
conduct taken into the scale--Cole’s division advanced into the plain,
confident that all was right with Pack’s troops, and a terrible
struggle between them and Bonnet’s corps took place. It was, however,
but of short duration. Bonnet’s troops were driven back in confusion,
and up to this moment all had gone on well.
“The three British Divisions engaged, overthrew all obstacles, and
the battle might be said to be won, had Pack’s formidable brigade
(formidable in numbers, at least) fulfilled their part--but these men
totally failed in their effort to take the height occupied only by a
few hundred Frenchmen, and thus gave the park of artillery that was
posted with them, full liberty to turn its efforts against the rear
and flank of Cole’s soldiers. Nothing could be worse than the state in
which the 4th Division was now placed, and the battle, which ought to
have been and had been in a manner won, was still in doubt.
“Bonnet, seeing the turn which Pack’s failure had wrought in his
favour, re-formed his men, and advanced against Cole, while the fire
from the battery and small arms on the Aripeles height completed the
confusion. Cole fell wounded; half of his division were cut off; the
remainder in full retreat, and Bonnet’s troops pressing on in a compact
body, made it manifest that a material change had taken place in the
battle, and that ere it was gained some ugly up-hill work was yet to be
done.
[Illustration: Charge of Pakenham’s Third Division at Salamanca
R. Caton Woodville]
“Marshal Beresford, who arrived at this moment, galloped up to the
head of a brigade of the 5th Division, which he took out of the second
line, and for a moment covered the retreat of Cole’s troops; but
this force--composed of Portuguese--was insufficient to arrest the
progress of the enemy, who advanced in the full confidence of an
assured victory, and at this moment Beresford was carried off the field
wounded. Bonnet’s troops advanced, uttering loud cheers, while the
entire of Cole’s division and Spry’s brigade of Portuguese were routed.
Our centre was thus endangered. Boyer’s dragoons, after the overthrow
of the French left, countermarched, and moved rapidly to the support of
Bonnet; they were also close in the track of his infantry; and the fate
of this momentous battle might be said to hang by a hair. The fugitives
of the 7th and 4th French Divisions ran to the succour of Bonnet,
and by the time they had joined him, his force had, indeed, assumed
a formidable aspect, and thus reinforced it stood in an attitude far
different from what it would have done, had Pack’s brigade succeeded in
its attack.
“Lord Wellington, who saw what had taken place by the failure of Pack’s
troops, ordered up the 6th Division to the support of the 4th, and the
battle, although it was half-past 8 o’clock at night, recommenced with
the same fury as at the outset.
“Clinton’s division, consisting of 6000 bayonets, rapidly advanced to
occupy its place in the combat, and relieve the 4th from the awkward
predicament in which it was placed, and essayed to gain what was lost
by the failure of Pack’s troops, in their feeble effort to wrest the
Aripeles height from a few brave Frenchmen; but they were received
by Bonnet’s troops at the point of the bayonet, and the fire opened
against them seemed to be three-fold more heavy than that sustained by
the 3rd and 5th Divisions. It was nearly dark, and the great glare of
light caused by the thunder of the artillery, the continued blaze of
musketry, and the burning grass, gave to the face of the hill a novel
and terrific appearance--it was one vast sheet of flame, and Clinton’s
men looked as if they were attacking a burning mountain, the crater of
which was defended by a barrier of shining steel. But nothing could
stop the intrepid valour of the 6th Division, as they advanced with
desperate resolution to carry the hill.
“The troops posted on the face of it to arrest their advance were
trampled down and destroyed at the first charge, and each reserve sent
forward to extricate them met with the same fate.
“Still Bonnet’s reserves having attained their place in the fight, and
the fugitives from Foy’s division joining them at the moment, prolonged
the battle until dark.
“These men, besmeared with blood, dust, and clay, half naked, and some
carrying only broken weapons, fought with a fury not to be surpassed;
but their impetuosity was at length calmed by the bayonets of Clinton’s
troops, and they no longer fought for victory, but for safety. After a
desperate struggle they were driven from their last hold in confusion,
and a general and overwhelming charge, which the nature of the ground
enabled Clinton’s troops to make, carried this ill-formed mass of
desperate soldiers before them, as a shattered wreck borne along by the
force of some mighty current. The mingled mass of fugitives fled to
the woods and to the river for safety, and under cover of the night,
succeeded in gaining the pass of Alba, over the Tormes. It was 10
o’clock at night--the battle was ended.”
Marmont, who was wounded in the early part of the fight, lost 15,000
men, of whom 7000 surrendered to the British. The victors had nearly
700 officers and men killed, and over 4500 returned as wounded and
missing. Six British Generals, including Wellington, whose thigh was
grazed by a musket ball which had fortunately passed through his
holster before it hit him, received injuries, and Le Marchant, as
already mentioned, was shot. Of the enemy four Generals were wounded
and three killed, sufficient proof of the sanguinary nature of the
long-continued contest. The victory would have been even more complete
had the Spanish garrison at Alba de Tormes remained at their post
instead of withdrawing without informing the Commander-in-Chief of
their intention. As a consequence the enemy were enabled to use the
bridge there and make good their escape.