Early next morning, the light brigade advanced, and cautiously felt its way through the villages which were found to be unoccupied. The whole army approached the city by brigades, and passing in open column of companies, the divisions moved barely out of cannon-shot of the fort, and directed their march on the fords of Santa Martha and El Campo, while the French stood upon the ramparts of San Vicente, looking with marked interest on the allied masses as they defiled across the plain.
The sixth division took possession of the city, while the others bivouacked in its immediate vicinity—and nothing could surpass the delight of the inhabitants, when they found themselves liberated from a bondage which they had endured for three long years. The men shouted their vivas,—the women caressed their deliverers,—while in the evening, music and dancing marked the general joy; and the illuminated streets might have been seen at the distance of many leagues.
But it was only for a brief time that the advance of the allies was interrupted. The convent of San Vicente, placed on a perpendicular cliff rising from the bed of the Tormes, had been fortified by Marmont with admirable skill. It was connected at either side with the old wall by a line of works, its windows built up and crenellated, and the re-entering angle secured by a fascine battery, palisaded in front, and defended by a loop-holed wall. A steep descent towards the bridge was separated from the opposite high grounds by a small rivulet that joined the Tormes—while the convents of La Merced and Cayetano, on the farther bank of the stream, were converted into strong redoubts, and ditched, escarped, and casemated. No pains had been spared by the French engineers to render these works respectable. The inhabitants had been obliged to lend their unwilling assistance; while, from the ruins of thirteen convents, and two-and-twenty colleges, the best materials for gates, palisades, and drawbridges, had been obtained. A place so capable of defence, could not be left occupied by a hostile garrison in the rear of an advancing army. It must of necessity be reduced—and on the night of the 17th, the sixth division broke ground, and in full moonlight commenced erecting a breaching battery.
Unforseen obstacles in warfare will frequently render the best-devised plans abortive. The vigilance of a dog saved the counterscarp of San Vicente from being blown up, and the miners failed, after suffering a heavy loss from a plunging fire, from which they could not protect themselves. Carcasses were tried without effect. The guns, four long eighteens, and four 24-pound howitzers, breached slowly, and it was the third morning before the lower wall of the convent was blown down. Its sudden fall brought the roof along with it, and a number of the defenders, then firing through the loop-holes, were buried in the ruins.
Marmont, who had retired from Salamanca with great reluctance, was actively engaged, in the mean time, in collecting reinforcements to enable him to recover the position he had abandoned. Breaking up from Fuente Sabrico he advanced with sixty thousand men, determined to offer battle. A sustained cannonade along his line of march apprized the besieged garrisons that succour was approaching, and Lord Wellington made the necessary dispositions for a battle. The allied army were drawn up upon the heights; the left resting on a chapel and ravine,—the centre occupying the village of San Christolat,[182]—and the right formed on a high ground in front of Castellanos de los Moriscos. The advanced posts retired, and a smart cannonade was maintained by the batteries on both sides—and although both were ready for a battle, neither would give a chance away. Several well-executed manœuvres in front of the British position producing no important result, Marmont fell back upon the flat grounds beside the village of Villares, his right upon the road to Toro, and his left in Castellanos.
Morning broke, and found the allies under arms. That day some reinforcements reached the French, but Marmont would not venture to attack. Wellington remained on the defensive, and the rival armies bivouacked quietly in each other’s presence. The weather was sultry; the heights unsheltered by a single tree; and as both wood and water were of necessity brought from Salamanca, the allies had but an indifferent supply of either. The French were better off; their bivouacs embraced several villages in the plain, the roofs and woodwork of the houses yielding materials for their watchfires, while the wells afforded a sufficiency of water,—an immense advantage indeed to an army when operating beneath an ardent sun.
Another day passed; but during the night Marmont seized an eminence on the right flank of the allied line, and occupied it in some strength, and it was deemed necessary to dislodge him. The 58th and 61st were ordered to attack the height: it was carried in fine style, and no attempt was made by the French marshal to retake it.
On the following evening, Marmont changed his position, and endeavoured to communicate with the garrisons of San Vicente and the redoubts. His right now occupied the heights at Cabeza Vellosa, his left rested on the Tormes at Huerta, and his centre in Aldea Rubia. A correspondent movement was made by Lord Wellington. His right was extended to San Martha, his advance to Aldea Lingua, and the heavy cavalry were detached across the river to check any attempt upon the fords.
The weather continued warm and dry, and as the whole surface of the position was covered with ripe corn, it supplied, in ample quantity forage for the horses and beds to the soldiery. The country was unwooded, and the only shelter from an ardent sun was obtained by stretching blankets over sticks, and securing the edges to the ground. For this simple luxury, Lord Wellington was indebted to a private of the 43rd, as his own accommodation was on a par with the humblest soldier. From break of day he occupied a height in the centre of the position, watching the movements of the French; his staff, from time to time, visiting him for orders. His meals were plainly served and rapidly despatched—and when night came, wrapped in his cloak, “the earth his bed, the sky his canopy,” he slept on the same sward upon which his splendid divisions were reposing.
While the allied forces remained in position on the heights, the 6th division pressed the siege of San Vicente and the dependent forts, as vigorously as their very limited means of aggression would permit. The breaching battery erected against Cayetano having destroyed the palisades and injured the parapet, General Bowes, considering that an assault might succeed, attempted to carry it by escalade. Under a tremendous fire two ladders were reared against the wall; but the foremost of the assailants were shot, and the storming party were repulsed with the loss of their gallant leader, and one hundred and twenty killed and wounded. As the attack was made at sunset, the increased firing was distinctly heard by both armies. Gradually it slackened,—at length nearly died away,—and three rockets, thrown up from the fort, apprized Marmont that the assault had failed. The signal was answered by several rounds of artillery from the French position on the right. The musketry than ceased totally, and the remainder of the night passed undisturbed.