A conflict, close and desperate like that of Salamanca, conferred a sanguinary victory, while it involved a still bloodier defeat. The allied loss, in killed and wounded, exceeded five thousand men, and this, of course, fell chiefly on the British. The Portuguese, comparatively, suffered little—and the Spaniards, being entirely non-combatant, had very few casualties to record.[190] The only post intrusted—and that most unhappily—to their charge, was the castle of Alba; and this was abandoned without a shot, leaving Clausel a safe retreat, while its vigorous occupation must have involved his total ruin.
The French loss was never correctly ascertained. Two eagles, eleven pieces of cannon, seven thousand prisoners, and as many dead soldiers left upon the field, were the admitted trophies of British victory. Among the commanding officers of both armies, the casualties were immense: of the British, Le Marchant was killed; Beresford, Cole, Leith, Cotton, and Alten wounded. The French were equally unfortunate—the generals of brigade, Thomières, Ferrey, and Desgraviers were killed; Marmont, early in the day, mutilated by a howitzer shell;[191] Bonnet severely, and Clausel slightly wounded.
The light division, when morning dawned, continued its advance, crossing the Tormes at Huerta; while the heavy Germans, under Bock, overtook the French rear-guard in position on the heights of La Serna, protected by some squadrons of hussars. These were dispersed by a charge of the 11th and 16th—while the heavy brigade rode directly at the squares, and broke them by a furious onset. Numbers were cut down—others saved themselves by throwing away their arms, hiding in the woods, and afterwards joining the retreating columns. In this spirited affair nearly one thousand prisoners fell into the hands of the victors.
As a cavalry exploit, that of La Serna has rarely been equalled, and never, in its brilliant results, surpassed. Bock’s casualties were comparatively trifling, amounting in killed and wounded only to some seventy or eighty men.
Clausel, who commanded en chef after Marmont was disabled, retreated with great rapidity. Viewed from the summit of La Serna, the French exhibited a countless mass of all arms, confusedly intermingled. While the range permitted it, the horse-artillery annoyed them with round-shot—but, by rapid marching, they gradually disappeared—while, opportunely, a strong corps of cavalry and a brigade of guns joined from the army of the North, and covered the retreat until they fell back upon their reserves.
Although Salamanca was in every respect a decisive battle, how much more fatal must it not have proved, had darkness not shut in, and robbed the conquerors of half the fruits of victory? The total demolition of the French left was effected by six o’clock, and why should the right attack have not been equally successful? Had such been the case, in what a hopeless situation the broken army must have found itself! The Tormes behind, a reserve of three entire divisions, who during the contest had scarcely drawn a trigger, ready to assail in front—nothing could have averted total ruin; and to the French, Salamanca would have proved the bloodiest field on record. One great error stripped victory of its results. Either the small force by which the Arapiles was defended had been undervalued, or incompetent means employed by Lord Wellington to carry it. Unfortunately a Portuguese brigade had been intrusted with that service. They were admirably led on—conquest was on the wing around them—everywhere the advance of the British was triumphant—their numerical force was five times greater than that of the defenders of the height—but the attack was feebly made, and, on the show of a determined resistance, as quickly abandoned. This unexpected reverse induced Bonnet’s corps to rally—and by it, the fourth division was suddenly and unexpectedly assailed. A plunging fire from the Arapiles fell upon their flank and rear—the tide of battle turned—the fourth gave ground—and, as yet untamed by British steel, the enemy cheered loudly and rushed on—and had not Clinton’s division been promptly carried into action, it is hard to conjecture what serious results might not have arisen from this singular repulse. Finally, the battle was restored and won—but an immense waste of blood and time supervened—and while the protracted struggle entailed on the victors a desperate loss, it secured the vanquished from total ruin. Favoured by the darkness, Marmont’s routed columns removed themselves from the field, while guns and trophies[192] were secured by the retiring army, that, with one hour’s light, must have fallen into the hands of the conquerors.[193]
Still, and with all these mischances, Salamanca was a great and influential victory. Accidental circumstances permitted Clausel to withdraw a beaten army from the field, and a fortunate junction of those arms, which alone could cover his retreat, enabled him, with little loss, to outmarch his pursuers, preserve his communications, and fall back upon his reserves. But at Salamanca the delusory notion of French superiority was destroyed. The enemy discovered that they must measure strength with opponents in every point their equals. The confidence of wavering allies was confirmed; while the evacuation of Madrid, the abandonment of the siege of Cadiz, the deliverance of Andalusia and Castile from military occupation, and the impossibility of reinforcing Napoleon during his northern campaign, by sparing any troops from the corps in the Peninsula[194]—all these great results were among the important consequences that arose from Marmont’s defeat upon the Tormes.
The joy evinced by the inhabitants of Salamanca at the total discomfiture of their French oppressors, was only equalled by the despair with which the regressive movement of Lord Wellington from the line of the Agueda had previously been witnessed. From all the high grounds about the city, the changes of the fight had been watched with painful anxiety; and when the struggle ended and the day was won, mules and cars loaded with refreshments were despatched from Salamanca to the field of battle, where they arrived before break of day. Hospitals were prepared for the reception of the wounded, and every exertion employed to assuage the sufferings of their gallant allies. High mass was celebrated in the cathedral, and a wild display of popular exultation was everywhere visible in the streets. All had assumed the appearance of a carnival; and the guitar and castanet were heard at midnight in the same square that, a short period before, had started at “the beat to arms.”
Lord Wellington, who had been present while mass was celebrated for his victory,[195] without delay commenced his march southward, and moved as rapidly as he could, in the vain hope of overtaking the enemy’s rear-guard. Clausel, intending to join the army of the North, fell back on Arivalo; but Joseph Buonaparte, on learning Marmont’s defeat, had retreated himself—and thus Clausel was obliged to change his line for that of the Camino Real, in order to cross the Duero at Tudela. There, too, he failed in effecting his expected junction with the troops that had garrisoned Madrid; and, abandoning his hospitals at Valladolid, he fell back at once on Burgos.
The British advance was unopposed. Everywhere the conquerors were received with vivas; while fruit, wine, and all the refreshments they could command, were liberally supplied them by the Spanish peasantry. At Valladolid, all hope of coming up with Clausel ended; and Lord Wellington halted on the 30th of July, to enable the rear to close up. Then turning at once, he quitted his previous route, and took the road to the capital.