On the 20th, the British army reached the strong position of San Christoval, on the right bank of the Tormes, distant a league from Salamanca, the French General likewise resting for the night upon the heights of Aldea Rubea, holding the ford of Alba on the Tormes. Towards mid-day on the 21st the French passed the river in two compact bodies, and, screened by the woody nature of the country, established themselves upon a new line of operations, threatening, in a manner, the communication of the British with Rodrigo. This manœuvre—a bold one it may well be called—under the cannon of an army that had proffered battle but a few days before on a plain of vast extent, was enough to puzzle a man less capable of command than he who was at the head of the allied army; but, unruffled in his temper by such vacillating conduct, and keeping a steady eye upon his opponent, the British General diligently followed his track. He passed his army, the 3rd Division under Pakenham excepted, across the Tormes, and taking hold of one of two isolated hills called Arapilles, he resolved to rest the right of his army upon this point while his left leaned upon the Tormes river at Santa Martha, and, in the event of a battle taking place, to stand the issue on the ground I have described. The 3rd Division still held the position of San Christoval on the right bank, but was in readiness to pass over the river by the bridge of Salamanca, in the event of a battle taking place. The British General thus threw down the gauntlet for the second time; and whether it was the impetuous spirit of the French soldiers, or the temper of their leader, or both combined, that wrought a change in either, it is not easy to say; but one thing is certain, that from this moment Marmont made up his mind to try the issue of a battle.
In front of the Arapilles hill, which was the point d’appui for our right, stood another, of the same name and greater altitude, distant five hundred yards from the one we possessed. This mound commanded the one occupied by us, and, after some severe contention, was finally held by the French; and it was evident from the earnest manner in which they sought to gain the possession of it, that it was destined to be the support of the left of their army, as the other was clearly marked out, by the previous events, to be intended for our right.
All doubts as to a battle not taking place were now hushed, and the soldiers of both armies were aware that the result was to decide to whom Madrid belonged. The die was cast; neither were inclined to back out of it, or to gainsay what they had in a manner pledged themselves to fulfil; and the evening of the 21st July 1812 closed upon the heads of many a soldier who was destined never to behold the setting of another sun. Nevertheless, the 3rd Division under Pakenham had not been recalled; on the contrary, we were busy in throwing up breastworks, and by other means adding to the strength of the position we occupied. Our division, though encamped on a height of considerable altitude, had received strict orders to entrench themselves; the earth was thrown up, the works were palisaded, and in fine they were so well secured that we had no fear of an attack or surprise. It is this precaution that marks the great general. Lord Wellington had no idea of being taken aback by any change in Marmont’s plans during the night: on the contrary, he was convinced that he was serious in his desire to give battle; but to guard against any and every chance was but right. Marmont might have again, on the night of the 21st, passed the river, and brought his army in battle array before a handful of men, and cut them off piecemeal before his movement could have been arrested by the British General. The thing was not probable—barely possible; but where possibilities, much less probabilities, exist, it is essential that the mind of the commander should be awake, and instead of brooding over what is likely to take place the following day, look to what may take place in the night. It was a remark of that eminent general, Kleber, that to be surprised was much more disgraceful than to be defeated: he said, “the bravest man may be beaten; but whoever suffers himself to be surprised is unworthy of being an officer.”
The evening of the 21st of July was calm, and appeared settled, but persons well versed in the symptoms of the horizon, which were unobserved by those intensely occupied with the anticipations of the events which the morrow was to produce, pronounced that a hurricane was not far distant. Pakenham’s division was occupied, as I have before said, in entrenching itself, when about ten at night a torrent of rain fell in the trenches, and so completely filled them with water that the soldiers were obliged to desist from their labour. Later in the night a storm arose, and the wind howled in long and bitter gusts. This was succeeded by peals of thunder and flashes of lightning, so loud and vivid that the horses of the cavalry, which were ready saddled, took alarm, and forcing the pickets which held them, ran away affrighted in every direction. The thunder rolled in rattling peals, the lightning darted through the black and almost suffocating atmosphere, and presented to the view of the soldiers of the two armies the horses as they ran about from regiment to regiment, or allowed themselves to be led back to their bivouac by the troopers to whom they belonged. The vivid flashes of lightning, which seemed to rest upon the grass, for a few moments wholly illuminated the plain, and the succeeding flashes occurred with such rapidity that a constant blaze filled the space occupied by both armies. It was long before the horses could be secured, and some in the confusion ran away amongst the enemy’s line and were lost. By midnight the storm began to abate, and towards morning it was evidently going farther: the lightning flashed at a distance through the horizon; the rain fell in torrents, and the soldiers of both armies were drenched to the skin before the hurricane had abated. Towards five o’clock the storm was partially over, and by six the dusky vapour which had before veiled the sun disappeared, and showed the two armies standing in the array they had been placed the evening before. All doubts were now set at rest as to which side of the river the battle would be fought. The entire army of Marmont remained on the left bank, and Pakenham was ordered to move across the Tormes with the 3rd Division, by the bridge of Salamanca, with as much speed as possible; but it was one o’clock before he reached the station allotted to him—the extreme right of the British.
At half-past one o’clock the two armies were within gunshot of each other. The British, placed as follows, awaited with calmness the orders of their General. We of the 3rd Division, under Pakenham, were on the right of the line, but hid by the heights in our front, and unseen by Marmont; two squadrons of the 14th Light Dragoons and a brigade of Portuguese horse, commanded by General D‘Urban, supported us. Next to the 3rd Division stood the 5th, led on by Leith; next to the 5th, and at the head of the village of Arapilles, were placed the 4th and 7th Divisions; beyond them, and a little in the rear, was the 6th Division, under General Clinton; and to the left of all was the Light Division, commanded by Colonel Barnard. The 1st Division, composed of the Guards and Germans, was in reserve; and the cavalry, under Sir Stapleton Cotton, was behind the 3rd and 5th Divisions, ready to act as circumstances might require. The guns attached to each brigade were up with the infantry; the park in reserve was behind the cavalry of Cotton, while in the rear of all, and nearly hors de combat, might be seen the Spanish army, commanded by Don Carlos D‘España. Thus stood affairs, on the side of the British, at half-past one o’clock.
The French army, composed of eight divisions of infantry, amounting to forty-two thousand bayonets, four thousand cavalry, and seventy pieces of artillery, occupied a fine line of battle behind a ridge whose right, supported by the Arapilles height held by them, overlooked the one upon which the left of our army rested. Their 5th Division occupied this point; the 122nd Regiment, belonging to Bonnet’s division, with a brigade of guns, crowned the Arapilles; the 7th Division supported the 122nd Regiment; the 2nd Division was in reserve behind the 7th; the 6th were at the head of the wood, protected by twenty pieces of artillery; and Boyer’s dragoons occupied the open space in front of the wood to the left of all.
There was some irregularity in the arrangement of these troops, and the Duke of Ragusa essayed in person to remedy the evil. He marched with the 3rd and 4th Divisions to the head of the wood occupied by Boyer, and it was then he conceived the idea of extending his left, which afterwards proved so fatal to him. On our side all was arranged for defence; the bustle which was evident in the ranks of the enemy caused no change in our dispositions. Lord Wellington, having surveyed what was passing, and judging that something was meant by it, gave his glass to one of his aide-de-camps, while he himself sat down to eat a few mouthfuls of cold beef. He had scarcely commenced when his aide-de-camp said, “The enemy are in motion, my lord!”—“Very well; observe what they are doing,” was the reply. A minute or so elapsed, when the aide-de-camp said, “I think they are extending to their left.”—“The devil they are!” said his lordship, springing upon his feet,—“give me the glass quickly.” He took it, and for a short space continued observing the motions of the enemy with earnest attention. “Come!” he exclaimed, “I think this will do at last; ride off instantly, and tell Clinton and Leith to return as rapidly as possible to their former ground.”
In a moment afterwards Lord Wellington was on horseback, and all his staff in motion. The soldiers stood to their arms—the colours were uncased—bayonets fixed—the order to prime and load passed, and in five minutes after the false movement of Marmont was discovered, our army, which so short a time before stood on the defensive, was arrayed for the attack! It was twenty minutes past four when these dispositions were completed; and here it may not be amiss to tell the reader the nature of the movement made by the French General, which so materially altered his position, as likewise that of his antagonist—and in doing so I shall be as brief as I can.
It has been already seen that both armies were so circumstanced as to almost preclude the possibility of a battle not taking place. Marmont coveted it—Wellington did not seek to decline it—both had the confidence of their soldiers—and both, as to numbers, might be said to be on an equality. When I speak of “numbers” I include the Portuguese troops. Military men know what was the real value of these soldiers! At two o’clock in the afternoon Marmont was the aggressor; he held the higher hand; yet at four, in two short hours afterwards, the relative situation of both was altogether changed. The natural question will be—How was this? It occurred just as I am about to describe.
The two armies took their ground under the impression that the French would attack, the British defend. All this was plain; but Marmont had no sooner mounted his horse and taken a survey of the field of battle than he conceived the idea—like Melas at Marengo—of extending his line; by marching his 7th Division to his left he might cause an alarm in the breast of the British General for the safety of his communication with the Rodrigo road, and in a manner circumvent his position. Lord Wellington, at a glance, saw all that was passing in the mind of his antagonist—he saw the error he had committed; and calculating that his 3rd Division (distant but three-quarters of a league from the French 4th) would reach them before the 7th French Division could retrace their steps and be in a position fitted for fighting, he decided upon attacking the left, before this division, commanded by Thomières, could regain its ground, or at all events be in an efficient state to resist the attack of his invincible Old Third. The result proved the soundness of the calculation, because, although Thomières got into his place in the fight, he did so before his men had foreseen or expected it, and their total overthrow was in itself sufficient to cause the loss of this great battle.