“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.”