CHAPTER VI

THE BATTLE OF SALAMANCA, JULY 22, 1812. THE EARLY STAGES

The decisive moment of the campaign of 1812 had now been reached--though Marmont was wholly unaware of it, and was proposing merely to continue his manœuvring of the last five days, and though Wellington hardly expected that the 22nd of July would turn out more eventful than the 21st. Both of them have left record of their intentions on the fateful morning. The Duke of Ragusa wrote to Berthier as follows: ‘My object was, in taking up this position, to prolong my movement to the left, in order to dislodge the enemy from the neighbourhood of Salamanca, and to fight him at a greater advantage. I calculated on taking up a good defensive position, against which the enemy could make no offensive move, and intended to press near enough to him to be able to profit from the first fault that he might make, and to attack him with vigour[505].’ He adds in another document, ‘I considered that our respective positions would bring on not a battle, but an advantageous rearguard action, in which, using my full force late in the day, with a part only of the British army left in front of me, I should probably score a point[506].’ It is clear that he reckoned that his adversary would continue his policy of the last five days; Wellington, if his flank were once more turned, would move on as before--always parrying the thrusts made at him, but not taking the offensive himself.

[505] Marmont to Berthier, July 31, printed in _Mémoires_, iv. p. 443.

[506] Marmont, _Mémoires_, iv. p. 237.

Nor was he altogether wrong in his expectation. Writing to Lord Bathurst on the evening of July 21st, the British Commander-in-Chief summed up his intentions in these words. ‘I have determined to cross the Tormes, if the enemy should: to cover Salamanca as long as I can: and above all not to give up our communication with Ciudad Rodrigo: and not to fight an action unless under very advantageous circumstances, or if it should become absolutely necessary[507].’ This determination is re-stated in a dispatch which Wellington wrote three days later, in a very different frame of mind. ‘I had determined that if circumstances should not permit me to attack him on the 22nd, I should move toward Ciudad Rodrigo without further loss of time[508].’ Wellington was therefore, it is clear, intending simply to continue his retreat without delivering battle, unless Marmont should give him an opportunity of striking a heavy blow, by putting himself in some dangerous posture. He desired to fight, but only if he could fight at advantage. Had Marmont continued to turn his flank by cautious movements made at a discreet distance, and with an army always ready to form an orderly line of battle, Wellington would have sacrificed Salamanca, and moved back toward the Agueda. He was not prepared to waste men in indecisive combats, which would not put the enemy out of

## action even if they went off well. ‘It is better that a battle should

not be fought, unless under such favourable circumstances that there would be reason to hope that the allied army would be able to maintain the field, while that of the enemy would not[509].’ For if the French were only checked, and not completely knocked to pieces, Wellington knew that they would be reinforced within a few days by the 14,000 men whom King Joseph (unknown to Marmont) was bringing up from Madrid. Retreat would then again become necessary, since the enemy would be superior in numbers to a hopeless extent. Wellington added that the 22nd was his best day of advantage, since within thirty-six hours Marmont would have been reinforced by the cavalry brigade under General Chauvel, which Caffarelli had at last sent forward from Burgos. It had reached the Douro at Valladolid on the 20th, and would be up at the front on the 23rd: this he well knew, and somewhat overrated its strength[510].

[507] _Dispatches_, ix. p. 299, July 21st.

[508] Wellington to Bathurst, July 24. _Dispatches_, ix. p. 300.

[509] Again from dispatch to Bathurst, July 21st. _Dispatches_, ix. p. 296.

[510] Supposing it, apparently, to be over 1,000 strong, while it was really not 800 sabres.

But though ready to take his advantage, if it were offered him, Wellington evidently leaned to the idea that it would not be given. He prepared for retreat, by sending off his whole baggage-train on the Ciudad Rodrigo road at dawn, escorted by one of D’Urban’s three Portuguese cavalry regiments. This was a clear expression of his intention to move off. So is his letter of July 24 to Graham in which, writing in confidence to a trusted subordinate, he remarks, ‘Marmont ought to have given me a _pont d’or_, and then he would have made a handsome operation of it.’ Instead of furnishing the proverbial bridge of gold to the yielding adversary, the Marshal pressed in upon him in a threatening fashion, yet with his troops so scattered and strung out on a long front, that he was not ready for a decisive action when Wellington at last saw his opportunity and dashed in upon him.

At dawn on the 22nd each party had to discover the exact position of his adversary, for the country-side was both wooded and undulating. Wellington’s army, on the line of heights reaching southward from Santa Marta, was almost entirely masked, partly by the woods in the centre of his position, but still more by his having placed all the divisions far back from the sky-line on the reverse slope of the plateau. The front was about three miles long, but little was visible upon it. Foy, whose division was ahead of the rest of the French army, describes what he saw as follows:--

‘The position of San Cristobal had been almost stripped of troops: we could see one English division in a sparsely-planted wood within cannon-shot of Calvarisa de Ariba, on the Salamanca road: very far behind a thin column was ascending the heights of Tejares: nothing more could be made out of Wellington’s army: all the rest was hidden from us by the chain of heights which runs from north to south, and ends in the high and precipitous knolls of the Arapiles. Wellington was on this chain, sufficiently near for us to recognize by means of the staff surrounding him[511].’

[511] _Vie militaire_, edited by Girod de l’Ain, p. 173.

All, then, that Foy, and Marmont who was riding near him, actually saw, was the 7th Division in the wood opposite Nuestra Señora de la Peña, and the distant baggage-column already filing off on the Ciudad Rodrigo road, which ascends the heights beyond Aldea Tejada four miles to the rear.

The French army was a little more visible to Wellington, who could not only make out Foy’s division behind Calvarisa de Ariba, but several other masses farther south and east, in front of the long belt of woods which extends on each side of the village of Utrera for some two miles or more. It was impossible to see how far the French left reached among the dense trees: but the right was ‘refused:’ no troops were opposite Wellington’s left or northern wing, and the villages of Pelabravo and Calvarisa de Abaxo, far in advance of it, were still held by British cavalry vedettes. In short, only the allied right and centre had enemies in front of them. This indicated what Wellington had expected--an attempt of Marmont to continue his old policy of outflanking his adversary’s extreme right: clearly the British left was not in danger.

Marmont, as his exculpatory dispatch to Berthier acknowledges, was convinced that Wellington would retire once more the moment that his flank was threatened. ‘Everything led me to believe,’ he writes, ‘that the enemy intended to occupy the position of Tejares [across the Zurgain] which lay a league behind him, while at present he was a league and a half in front of Salamanca[512].’ Foy’s diary completely bears out this view of Marmont’s conception of the situation. ‘The Marshal had no definite plan: he thought that the English army was already gone off, or at least that it was going off, to take position on the heights of Tejares on the left [or farther] bank of the river Zurgain. He was tempted to make an attack on the one visible English division, with which a skirmishing fire had already begun. He was fearing that this division might get out of his reach! How little did he foresee the hapless lot of his own army that day! The wily Wellington was ready to give battle--the greater part of his host was collected, but masked behind the line of heights: he was showing nothing on the crest, lest his intention should be divined: he was waiting for our movement[513].’

[512] Correspondence in _Mémoires_, iv. p. 254.

[513] Foy, p. 174.

The skirmish to which Foy alludes was one begun by the _voltigeurs_ of his own division, whom Marmont had ordered forward, to push back the English pickets on the height of Nuestra Señora de la Peña. These belonged to the 7th Division, which was occupying the wood behind. Not wishing his position to be too closely examined, Wellington sent out two whole battalions, the 68th and the 2nd Caçadores, who formed a very powerful screen of light troops, and pushed back the French from the hill and the ruined chapel on top of it. Marmont then strengthened his firing line, and brought up a battery, which checked the further advance of the allied skirmishers. The two screens continued to exchange shots for several hours, half a mile in front of Wellington’s position. The _tiraillade_ had many episodes, in one of which General Victor Alten, leading a squadron of his hussars to protect the flank of the British skirmishers, received a ball in the knee, which put him out of action, and threw the command of his brigade into the hands of Arentschildt, colonel of the 1st Hussars K.G.L. After much bickering, and when noon had long passed, the 68th and Caçadores were relieved by some companies of the 95th from the Light Division, as Wellington wished to employ the 7th Division elsewhere. He had at first thought it possible that Marmont was about to make a serious attack on this part of his front; but the notion died away when it was seen that the Marshal did not send up any formed battalions to support his _voltigeurs_, and allowed the light troops of the allies to cling to the western half of the slopes of Nuestra Señora de la Peña.

[Illustration: THE GREATER OR FRENCH ARAPILE SEEN FROM THE FOOT OF THE LESSER ARAPILE.]

[Illustration: GENERAL VIEW OF THE BRITISH AND FRENCH POSITIONS, TAKEN FROM THE REAR OF THE FORMER, THE NEARER HILL WAS THE POSITION OF THE 5TH DIVISION. THE VILLAGE OF ARAPILES TO THE LEFT. THE DISTANT RIDGE, ALONG WHICH SMOKE IS ROLLING, IS THE FRENCH POSITION.

From photographs by Mr. C. Armstrong.]

It was soon evident that the French were--as so often before during the last six days--about to extend their left wing. The right or southern flank of Wellington’s line rested on the rocky knoll, 400 feet high, which is known as the ‘Lesser Arapile.’ Six hundred yards from it, and outside the allied zone of occupation, lay the ‘Greater Arapile,’ which is a few feet higher and much longer than its fellow. These two curious hills, sometimes called the ‘Hermanitos’ or ‘little brothers,’ are the most striking natural feature in the country-side. They rise a hundred and fifty feet above the valley which lies between them, and a hundred feet above the heights on either side. Their general appearance somewhat recalls that of Dartmoor ‘Tors,’ rough rock breaking out through the soil. But their shapes differ: the Greater Arapile shows crags at each end, but has a comparatively smooth ascent to its centre on its northern front--so smooth that steep ploughed fields have been laid out upon it, and extend almost to the crest. The Lesser Arapile is precipitous on its southern front, where it faces its twin, but is joined at its back (or northern) side by a gentle slope to the main line of the heights where Wellington’s army lay. It is in short an integral part of them, though it rises far above their level. The Greater Arapile, on the other hand, is an isolated height, not belonging to the system of much lower knolls which lies to its south. These, three-quarters of a mile away, are covered with wood, and form part of the long forest which reaches as far as the neighbourhood of Alba de Tormes.

Wellington had left the Greater Arapile outside his position, partly because it was completely separated from the other heights that he held, partly (it is said) because he had surveyed the ground in the dusk, and had judged the knoll farther from the Lesser Arapile than was actually the case; they were within easy cannon-shot from each other[514]. At about eight o’clock, French skirmishers were observed breaking out from the woods to the south of the Arapile and pushing rapidly toward it. They were followed by supporting columns in strength--indeed Marmont had directed the whole of Bonnet’s division to move, under cover of the trees, to the point where the woods approach nearest to the hill, and from thence to carry it if possible. Wellington, now judging that it was uncomfortably near to his right flank, ordered the 7th Caçadores--from the 4th Division, the unit that lay nearest--to race hard for the Greater Arapile and try to seize it before the French had arrived. They made good speed but failed: the enemy was on the crest first, and repulsed them with some loss. They had to fall back to behind the Lesser Arapile, which was held by the first British brigade of their division (W. Anson’s).

[514] So says Vere, in his _Marches of the 4th Division_, p. 31.

Marmont had seized the Greater Arapile, as he tells us, to form a strong advanced post, behind which he could move his main body westward, in pursuance of his old design of turning Wellington’s right. It was to be the ‘pivot on which the flanking movement should be made,’ the ‘_point d’appui_ of the right of his army’ when it should reach its new position[515]. Bonnet’s troops being firmly established on and behind it, he began to move his divisions to their left. On his original ground, the plateau of Calvarisa de Ariba, he left Foy’s division in front line--still bickering with the skirmishing line of the allies--Ferey’s division in support, and Boyer’s dragoons to cover the flank against any possible attack from the British cavalry, who were in force on Wellington’s left, and still had detachments out on the plateau by Pelabravo, beyond Foy’s extreme right. Having made this provision against any possible attempt to attack him in the rear while he was executing his great manœuvre, Marmont marched his five remaining divisions[516], under cover of Bonnet’s advanced position, to the edge of the wooded hills in rear of the Great Arapile, where they remained for some time in a threatening mass, without further movement.

[515] Marmont, _Mémoires_, iv. p. 255.

[516] Clausel, Brennier, Maucune, Thomières, and Sarrut also, when the latter arrived late from Babila Fuente, and joined the main body.

Wellington, clearly discerning from the summit of the Lesser Arapile this general shift of the enemy to the left, now made great alterations in the arrangement of his troops, and adopted what may be called his second battle-position. The 4th Division, about and around that height, was placed so as to serve for the allied army the same purpose that Bonnet was carrying out for the French on the other Hermanito. Of Cole’s three brigades, that of Anson occupied the Arapile--the 3/27th on the summit, the 1/40th in support on the rear slope. Pack’s independent Portuguese brigade was placed beside Anson. The Fusilier brigade (under Ellis of the 1/23rd) and Stubbs’s Portuguese, the remaining units of the 4th Division, were formed up to the right of the hill, extending as far as the village which takes its name of Arapiles from the two strange knolls. Two guns of Cole’s divisional battery (that of Sympher[517]) were hoisted up with some difficulty to the level of the 3/27th. The other four were left with the Fusiliers near the village[518]. Thus the little Arapile became the obtuse angle of a formation ‘en potence,’ with Pack and two brigades of the 4th Division on its right, and the 7th Division (still engaged at a distance with Foy) and the 1st and Light Divisions on its left. At the same time Wellington moved down the troops which had originally formed his left wing (5th and 6th Divisions, España’s Spaniards, and Bradford’s Portuguese) to a supporting position behind his centre, somewhere near the village of Las Torres, where they could reinforce either his right or his left, as might prove necessary in the end. As a further general reserve G. Anson’s and Le Marchant’s cavalry brigades, and the greater part of Victor Alten’s, were brought away from the original left, and placed in reserve near the 6th Division; but Bock and two of Victor Alten’s squadrons[519] remained on the left, opposite Boyer’s dragoons.

[517] A K.G.L. unit--the only German artillery present at Salamanca.

[518] All this from Vere’s _Marches of the 4th Division_, p. 32.

[519] From the 14th Light Dragoons.

In connexion with this same general move, Wellington sent a most important order to the troops which he had left till this moment on the north bank of the Tormes, covering Salamanca, in the position by Cabrerizos. These consisted of the 3rd Division--which was under the temporary command of Edward Pakenham (Wellington’s brother-in-law) during Picton’s sickness--and the 500 sabres that remained of D’Urban’s Portuguese horse, after one regiment had been sent off on escort-duty with the baggage-train. These corps were directed to march over the town-bridge of Salamanca, and take up a position between Aldea Tejada and La Penilla, to the east of the high-road to Ciudad Rodrigo. There placed, they were available either as a reserve to the newly-formed right wing, or as a supporting échelon, if the whole army should ultimately fall back for a retreat along the high-road, or as a detached force placed so far to the right that it could outflank or throw itself in front of any French troops which might continue Marmont’s advance from the Arapiles westward. It is probable that Wellington, at the moment when he gave the orders, would have been quite unable to say which of these three duties would fall to Pakenham’s share. The 3rd Division marched from Cabrerizos at noon, passing through the city, which was at this moment full of alarms and excursions. For the sight of Marmont close at hand, and of the British baggage-train moving off hastily toward Rodrigo, had filled the inhabitants with dismay. Some were hiding their more valuable property, others (who had compromised themselves by their friendly reception of the allied army) were preparing for hasty flight. Some used bitter language of complaint--the English were retreating without a battle after betraying their friends.

Pakenham and D’Urban reached their appointed station by two o’clock,[520] and halted in a dip in the ground, well screened by trees, between La Penilla and Aldea Tejada, where they could barely be seen from the highest slopes of Wellington’s position, and not at all from any other point. For some time they were left undisturbed, listening to a growing noise of artillery fire to their left front, where matters were evidently coming to a head.

[520] The hours are taken from D’Urban’s diary.

At about eleven o’clock Marmont had climbed to the summit of the French Arapile, from whence he obtained for the first time a partial view into the British position; for looking up the dip in the ground between the Lesser Arapile and the heights occupied by the Fusilier brigade of the 4th Division, he could catch a glimpse of some of the movements that were going on at the back of Wellington’s first line. Apparently he saw the 1st and Light Divisions behind the crest of their destined fighting position, and the 5th and 6th and Bradford’s Portuguese taking ground to their right. Pack’s Portuguese on the flank and rear of the British Arapile must also have been visible at least in part. The conclusion to which he came was that his adversary was accumulating forces behind the Lesser Arapile with the object of sallying out against Bonnet, whose post was very far advanced in front of the rest of the French army, and against Foy and Ferey, who were left in a somewhat isolated position on the plateau by Calvarisa, when the main body of the army had moved so far to the west.

Some such intention seems for a moment to have been in Wellington’s mind, though he says nothing of it in his dispatch. ‘About twelve o’clock,’ writes one of the most trustworthy British diarists, ‘the troops were ordered to attack, and the 1st Division moved forward to gain the other Arapile, which the French had taken.... There was something singular, I think, in Lord Wellington’s ordering the 1st and Light Divisions to attack early in the day, and then counter-ordering them after they had begun to move. Marshal Beresford, no doubt, was the cause of the alteration, by what he urged. Yet at the same time Lord W. is so little influenced (or indeed allows any person to say a word) that his attending to the Marshal was considered singular. From all I could collect and observe “the Peer” was a little nervous: it was the first time he had ever attacked. When he _did_ finally determine on the attack it was well done, in the most decided manner. There was possibly some little trouble in arriving at that decision[521].’ Oddly enough this contemporary note is exactly borne out by Marmont’s statement in his _Mémoires_, that meeting Wellington years after, he inquired about the point, and was frankly told that an attack had been projected at this moment, but that it had been put off in consequence of the representation of Beresford, who had counselled delay[522]. There was a heavy mass of troops available behind the Lesser Arapile and to both sides of it--the 4th Division, Pack’s Portuguese, and the 1st, 7th, and Light Divisions, with the 5th and 6th and Bradford and the cavalry in reserve. The blow might have succeeded--but undoubtedly that delivered four hours later was much more effective.

[521] Tomkinson’s _Diary_, pp. 187-9.

[522] Marmont, _Mémoires_, iv. p. 256.

The idea of an attack at noon having been finally rejected Wellington turned his mind to another possibility. If Marmont should commit no blunders, and should continue his turning movement at a safe distance, and with his whole army well concentrated, it was quite possible that a retreat might become necessary. The Commander-in-Chief called up Colonel Delancey, then acting as Adjutant-General[523], and directed him to draft a comprehensive scheme for the order in which the troops should be withdrawn, and the route which each division would take in the event of an evacuation of the position. The next stand was to be made, as Marmont had supposed, on the heights above Aldea Tejada, behind the river Zurgain[524]. Such a move would have involved the abandonment of the city of Salamanca to the French. The news spread from the staff round the commanding officers of divisions, and so downwards to the ranks, where it caused immense discontent. Every one was ‘spoiling for a fight,’ and the cautious tactics of the last six days had been causing murmurs, which were only kept from becoming acute by the long-tried confidence that the army felt in its chief.

[523] Charles Stewart (Lord Londonderry), who had held the post for the last three years had just gone home, and his successor had not yet come out to Spain.

[524] The note concerning Delancey is from Vere’s _Marches of the 4th Division_, p. 31.

At this very moment Marmont began to act in the fashion that Wellington most desired, by making an altogether dangerous extension of his left wing, and at the same time pressing in so close to his adversary that he could not avoid a battle if it were thrust upon him. His own explanation is that he took the putting off of Wellington’s tentative movement against Bonnet as a sign that the allied army was actually commencing its retreat. ‘Wellington renounced his intention of fighting, and from that moment he had to prepare to draw away, for if he had remained in his present position I should from the next day have threatened his communications, by marching on to my left. His withdrawal commenced at midday.... He had to retreat by his right, and consequently he had to begin by strengthening his right. He therefore weakened his left, and accumulated troops on his right. Then his more distant units and his reserves commenced to move, and in succession drew off towards Tejares [Aldea Tejada]. His intention was easy to discern.... The enemy having carried off the bulk of his force to his right, I had to reinforce my left, so as to be able to act with promptness and vigour, without having to make new arrangements, when the moment should arrive for falling upon the English rearguard[525].’

[525] _Mémoires_, iv. p. 257.

It is clear that the Duke of Ragusa had drawn his conclusion that Wellington was about to retreat at once, and had argued, from

## partly-seen motions in his adversary’s rear, that the whole allied

army was moving off. But this was not yet the case: Wellington was taking precautions, but he was still not without hope that the French would commit themselves to some unwise and premature movement. He had still every man in hand, and the supposed general retreat on Aldea Tejada, which the Marshal thought that he saw, was in reality only the shifting of reserves more to the right.

Unwitting of this, Marmont, a little before two o’clock, began his extension to the left. To the westward of the woods on whose edge the five divisions composing his main body were massed, is a long plateau facing the village of Arapiles and the heights behind it. It is about three-quarters of a mile broad and three miles long, gently undulating and well suited for marching: in 1812 it seems to have been open waste: to-day it is mainly under the plough. Its front or northern side slopes gently down, toward the bottom in which lies the village of Arapiles: at its back, which is steeper, are woods, outlying parts of the great forest which extends to Alba de Tormes. It ends suddenly in a knoll with an outcrop of rock, called the Pico de Miranda, above the hamlet of Miranda de Azan, from which it draws its name. Along this plateau was the obvious and easy route for a force marching to turn Wellington’s right. It was a very tempting piece of ground, with a glacis-like slope towards the English heights, which made it very defensible--a better artillery position against a force advancing from the village of Arapiles and the ridges behind it could not be conceived. The only danger connected with it seemed to be that it was over-long--it had more than two miles of front, and a very large force would be required to hold it securely from end to end. From the Pico de Miranda, if the French should extend so far, to Foy’s right wing by Calvarisa de Ariba was a distance of six miles in all--far too much for an army of 48,000 men in the battle-array of the Napoleonic period.

Marmont says that his first intention was only to occupy the nearer end of the plateau, that part of it which faces the village of Arapiles. In his apologetic dispatch to Berthier, he declares that he wished to get a lodgement upon it, lest Wellington might seize it before him, and so block his way westward. ‘It was indispensable to occupy it, seeing that the enemy had just strengthened his centre, from whence he could push out _en masse_ on to this plateau, and commence an attack by taking possession of this important ground. Accordingly I ordered the 5th Division (Maucune) to move out and form up on the right end of the plateau, where his fire would link on perfectly with that from the [Great] Arapile: the 7th Division [Thomières] was to place itself in second line as a support, the 2nd Division (Clausel) to act as a reserve to the 7th. The 6th Division (Brennier) was to occupy the high ground in front of the wood, where a large number of my guns were still stationed. I ordered General Bonnet at the same time to occupy with the 122nd regiment a knoll intermediate between the plateau and the hill of the [Great] Arapile, which blocks the exit from the village of the same name. Finally, I directed General Boyer to leave only one regiment of his dragoons to watch Foy’s right, and to come round with the other three to the front of the wood, beside the 2nd Division. The object of this was that, supposing the enemy should attack the plateau, Boyer could charge in on their right flank, while my light cavalry could charge in on their left flank[526].’

[526] Dispatch to Berthier, _Mémoires_, iv. pp. 445-6.

All this reads very plausibly and ingeniously, but unfortunately it squares in neither with the psychology of the moment, nor with the manœuvres which Maucune, Thomières, and Clausel executed, under the Marshal’s eye and without his interference. He had forgotten when he dictated this paragraph--and not unnaturally, for he wrote sorely wounded, on his sick-bed, in pain, and with his head not too clear--that he had just before stated that Wellington was obviously retreating, and had begun to withdraw towards Aldea Tejada. If this was so, how could he possibly have conceived at the moment that his adversary, far from retreating, was preparing an offensive movement _en masse_ against the left flank of the French position? The two conceptions cannot be reconciled. The fact was, undoubtedly, that he thought that Wellington was moving off, and pushed forward Maucune, Thomières, and Clausel, with the object of molesting and detaining what he supposed to be the rearguard of his adversary. The real idea of the moment was the one which appears in the paragraph of his _Mémoires_, already quoted on an earlier page: ‘I hoped that our respective positions would bring on not a battle but an advantageous rearguard

## action, in which, using my full force late in the day, with a part

only of the British army left in front of me, I should probably score a point.’ Jourdan, a severe critic of his colleague, puts the matter with perfect frankness in his _Guerre d’Espagne_. After quoting Marmont’s insincere dispatch at length, he adds, ‘it is evident that the Marshal, in order to menace the point of retreat of the allies, extended his left much too far[527].’ Napoleon, after reading Marmont’s dispatch in a Russian bivouac[528], pronounced that all his reasons and explanations for the position into which he got himself had ‘as much complicated stuffing as the inside of a clock, and not a word of truth as to the real state of things.’

[527] Jourdan’s _Mémoire sur la Guerre d’Espagne_, p. 418.

[528] ‘Il y a plus de fatras et de rouages que dans une horloge, et pas un mot qui fasse connaître l’état réel des choses.’ For more hard words see Napoleon to Clarke, Ghiatz, September 2.

What happened under the eyes of Marmont, as he took a long-delayed lunch on the top of the Greater Arapile[529], was as follows. Maucune, with his strong division of nine battalions or 5,200 men, after breaking out from the position in front of the woods where the French main body was massed, marched across the open ground for about a mile or more, till he had got well on to the central part of the plateau which he was directed to occupy. He then drew up opposite the village of Arapiles, and sent out his voltigeur companies to work down the slope toward that place, which lay well in front of the British line. The position which he took up was on that part of the plateau which sweeps forward nearest to the opposite heights, and is little more than half a mile from them. A fierce artillery engagement then set in: Maucune’s divisional battery began to shell the village of Arapiles. Sympher’s battery, belonging to the 4th Division, replied from the slope behind the village and from two guns on the Lesser Arapile. The French pieces which had been dragged up on to the Greater Arapile then started shelling the Lesser, and silenced the two guns there, which were drawn off, and sent to rejoin the rest of the battery, on a less exposed position. The 3/27th on the hilltop had to take cover behind rocks as best it could. Soon after at least two more French batteries, from the artillery reserve, took ground to the right of Maucune, and joined in the shelling of the village of Arapiles. Wellington presently supported Sympher’s battery with that of Lawson, belonging to the 5th Division, which turned on to shell Maucune’s supporting columns from ground on the lower slopes, not far to the right of Sympher’s position. The effect was good, and the columns shifted sideways to get out of range. But one [or perhaps two] of the French batteries then shifted their position, and began to play upon Lawson diagonally from the left, so enfilading him that he was ordered to limber up and move higher on the hill behind the village, from whence he resumed his fire. Wellington also, a little later, brought up the horse-artillery troop belonging to the 7th Division [’E’, Macdonald’s troop] and placed it on the Lesser Arapile--two guns on the summit, four on the lower slopes near the 1/40th of W. Anson’s brigade. The British fire all along the heights was effective and accurate, but quite unable to cope with that of the French, who had apparently six batteries in action against three. Marmont, indeed, had all along his line an immense superiority of guns, having 78 pieces with him against Wellington’s 54. His artillery-reserve consisted of four batteries--that of his adversary of one only--Arriaga’s Portuguese 24-pounder howitzers[530].

[529] See Memoirs of Parquin, who commanded his escort, p. 299. But he states the hour as 11 o’clock, much too early.

[530] For this artillery business see especially the six narratives of artillery officers printed by Major Leslie in his _Dickson Papers_, ii. pp. 685-97. Also for doings of the 5th Division battery (Lawson’s), Leith Hay, ii. pp. 47-8, and of the 4th Division battery (Sympher’s), Vere’s _Marches of the 4th Division_, pp. 33-4.

While Maucune and the French artillery were making a very noisy demonstration against the British line between the Lesser Arapile and the village of the same name, which looked like the preliminaries of a serious attack, more troops emerged from the woods of Marmont’s centre, and began to file along the plateau, under cover of Maucune’s deployed line. These were Thomières’s division, succeeded after a long interval by that of Clausel. ‘During the cannonade column followed column in quick and continued succession along the heights occupied by the enemy: Marmont was moving his army in battle-order along his position, and gaining ground rapidly to his left[531].’ According to the Marshal’s own account of his intentions, he had proposed to place Maucune on the (French) right end of the plateau, Thomières and Clausel in support of him. What happened, however, was that Maucune went well forward on to the right-centre of the plateau, and that Thomières marched along past Maucune’s rear, and continued moving in a westerly direction along the summit of the plateau, though Clausel soon halted: before Thomières stopped he had gone nearly three miles. It is clear that if Marmont had chosen, he could have checked the manœuvres of his subordinates, the moment that they passed the limit which he alleges that he had set them. An aide-de-camp sent down from the back of the Greater Arapile could have told Maucune not to press forward toward the English position, or Thomières to stop his march, within a matter of twenty minutes or half an hour. No such counterorders were sent--and the reason clearly was that Marmont was satisfied with the movements that he saw proceeding before him, until the moment when he suddenly realized with dismay that Wellington was about to deliver a counter-stroke in full force.

[531] Vere’s _Marches of the 4th Division_, p. 33.

We must now turn to the movements of the allied army. The instant that Maucune deployed on the plateau in front of the village of Arapiles, and that the cannonade began, Wellington judged that he was about to be attacked--the thing that he most desired. A very few orders put his army in a defensive battle-position. The 5th Division was sent from the rear side of the heights to occupy the crest, continuing the line of the 4th Division. The 6th Division was brought up from the rear to a position behind the 4th. The 7th Division, abandoning the long bickering with Foy in which its light troops had been engaged, was drawn back from the left wing, and took post in second line parallel to the 6th and in rear of the 5th Division. The place of its skirmishers on the slopes in front of Nuestra Señora de la Peña was taken by some companies of the 95th, sent out from the Light Division. That unit and the 1st Division now formed the total of the allied left wing, with Bock’s heavy dragoons covering their flank. They were ‘containing’ an equivalent French force--Foy’s and Ferey’s infantry divisions, and the single regiment of Boyer’s dragoons which Marmont had left in this quarter.

There still remained in reserve, near the village of Las Torres, Bradford’s Portuguese and España’s Spanish battalions, with the bulk of the allied cavalry--all Anson’s and Le Marchant’s and the greater part of Arentschildt’s squadrons, and in addition Pakenham and D’Urban were available a little farther to the right, near Aldea Tejada. If the French were going to attack the heights on each side of the village of Arapiles, as seemed probable at the moment, all these remoter reserves could be used as should seem most profitable.

But the battle did not go exactly as Wellington expected. The cannonade continued, and Maucune’s skirmishing line pushed very boldly forward, and actually attacked the village of Arapiles, which was defended by the light companies of the Guards’ brigade of the 1st Division and of the Fusilier brigade of the 4th Division. The _voltigeurs_ twice seized the southern outlying houses of the straggling village, and were twice driven out. But the battalions in support of them did not come forward, nor did Bonnet attack on the right of them, nor Thomières on the left. The former remained stationary, on and about the Great Arapile: the latter continued to march westward along the plateau: a perceptible gap began to appear between him and Maucune.

Wellington at this moment was toward the right rear of his own line--occupied according to some authorities in snatching a late and hasty lunch[532] while matters were developing, but not yet developed--according to others in giving orders concerning the cavalry to Stapleton Cotton, near Las Torres--when he received an urgent message from Leith. It said that Maucune had ceased to advance, but that the French extreme left was still in march westward. ‘On being made acquainted with the posture of affairs,’ writes the officer who bore Leith’s report[533], ‘Lord Wellington declared his intention of riding to the spot and directed me to accompany him. When he arrived at the ground of the 5th Division--now under arms and perfectly prepared to receive the attack, his Lordship found the enemy still in the same formation, but not displaying any intention of trying his fortune, by crossing the valley at that point. He soon became satisfied that no operation of consequence was intended against this part of the line. He again galloped off toward the right, which at this time became the most interesting and important scene of action.’

[532] The traditional story may be found in Greville’s _Memoirs_, ii. p. 39. Wellington is said to have been in the courtyard of a farmhouse, where some food had been laid out for him, ‘stumping about and munching,’ and taking occasional peeps through his telescope. Presently came the aide-de-camp with Leith’s message. Wellington took another long look through his glass, and cried, ‘By God! that will do!’ his mouth still full. He then sprang on his horse and rode off, the staff following. Another version may be found in Grattan, pp. 239-40: ‘Lord W. had given his glass to an aide-de-camp, while he himself sat down to eat a few mouthfuls of cold beef. Presently the officer reported that the enemy were still extending to their left. “The devil they are! give me the glass quickly,” said his lordship--and then, after a long inspection, “This will do at last, I think--ride off.”’

[533] His nephew, Leith Hay, whose memoir I have so often had to quote, here ii. p. 49.

The critical moment of the day was the short space of time when Wellington was surveying the French army, from the height where Leith’s men were lying prostrate behind the crest, above the village of Arapiles, under a distant but not very effective artillery fire. The whole plateau opposite was very visible: Maucune could be seen halted and in line, with much artillery on his flank, but no infantry force near--there was half a mile between him and Bonnet. Thomières was still pushing away to his left, already separated by some distance from Maucune. Clausel had apparently halted after the end of his march out of the woods. Foy and Ferey were at least two miles off to the French right. The enemy, in short, were in no solid battle order, and were scattered on an immense arc, which enveloped on both sides the obtuse angle _en potence_ formed by the main body of the allied army. From Foy’s right to Thomières’s left there was length but no depth. The only reserves were the troops imperfectly visible in the woods behind the Great Arapile--where lay Brennier in first line, and Sarrut who was now nearing Marmont’s artillery-park and baggage. Their strength might be guessed from the fact that Marmont was known to have eight infantry divisions, and that six were clearly visible elsewhere. Wellington’s determination was suddenly taken, to turn what had been intended for a defensive into an offensive battle. Seeing the enemy so scattered, and so entirely out of regular formation, he would attack him with the whole force that he had in position west of the little Arapile, before Marmont could get into order. Leith, Cole, and Pack in front line, supported by the 6th and 7th Divisions in second line, and with Bradford, España, and Stapleton Cotton’s cavalry covering their right flank in a protective échelon, should cross the valley and fall upon Bonnet, Maucune, Clausel, and Thomières. Meanwhile Pakenham and D’Urban, being in a hidden position from which they could easily outflank Thomières, should ascend the western end of the plateau, get across the head of his marching column, and drive it in upon Maucune, whom Leith would be assailing at the same moment. Pakenham’s turning movement was the most delicate part of the plan; wherefore Wellington resolved to start it himself. He rode like the wind across the ground behind the heights, past Las Torres and Penilla, and appeared all alone before D’Urban’s Portuguese squadrons. It was only some time later that first Colonel Delancey and then others of his staff, quite outdistanced, came dropping in with blown horses. The orders to D’Urban were short and clear: Pakenham was about to attack the western end of the plateau where Thomières was moving--near the Pico de Miranda. It would be D’Urban’s duty to cover his right flank[534]. A minute later Wellington was before the 3rd Division, which had just received orders to stand to its arms.

[534] D’Urban’s unpublished diary gives the fact that he got his order from Wellington personally before Pakenham was reached.

‘The officers had not taken their places in the column, but were in a group together, in front of it. As Lord Wellington rode up to Pakenham every eye was turned towards him. He looked paler than usual; but, notwithstanding the sudden change he had just made in the disposition of his army, he was quite unruffled in his manner, as if the battle to be fought was nothing but a field-day. His words were few and his orders brief. Tapping Pakenham on the shoulder, he said, “Edward, move on with the 3rd Division, take those heights in your front--and drive everything before you.” “I will, my lord,” was the laconic reply of the gallant Sir Edward. A moment after, Lord Wellington was galloping on to the next division, to give (I suppose) orders to the same effect, and in less than half an hour the battle had commenced[535].’ The time was about a quarter to four in the afternoon.

[535] Grattan’s _With the Connaught Rangers_, pp. 241-2.

Having set Pakenham and D’Urban in motion, Wellington rode back to the ground of the 5th Division, sending on his way orders for Arentschildt to leave the cavalry reserve, and join D’Urban with the five squadrons that remained of Victor Alten’s brigade[536]. Bradford, España, and Cotton at the same time were directed to come forward to Leith’s right flank. On reaching the hilltop behind the village of Arapiles, the Commander-in-Chief gave his orders to Leith: the 5th Division was to advance downhill and attack Maucune across the valley, as soon as Bradford’s Portuguese should be close up to support his right, and as Pakenham’s distant movement should become visible. Wellington then rode on to give the corresponding orders to Cole, more to the left[537].

[536] Two of 14th Light Dragoons, three of 1st Hussars K.G.L.

[537] All this from Leith Hay, ii. pp. 51-2.

The 5th Division thereupon sent out its light companies in skirmishing line, and came up to the crest: the two neighbouring brigades of the 4th Division followed suit, and then Pack’s Portuguese, opposite the Greater Arapile. Considerable loss was suffered in all these corps from the French artillery fire, when the battalions rose from their lying posture behind the crest and became visible. Some thirty or forty minutes elapsed between Wellington’s arrival on the scene and the commencement of the advance: the delay was caused by the necessity for waiting for Bradford, who was coming up as fast as possible from Las Torres. The attack did not begin till about 4.40 p.m.

By the time that Leith and Cole came into action the French army had been deprived of its chief. Somewhere between three and four o’clock in the afternoon[538], and certainly nearer the latter than the former hour, Marmont had been severely wounded. According to his own narrative he had begun to be troubled by seeing Maucune pressing in too close to the village of Arapiles, and Thomières passing on too far to the left, and had been roused to considerable vexation by getting a message from the former that he observed that the troops in front of him were retiring, and therefore would ask leave to support his _voltigeurs_ and attack the British position with his whole division. Marmont says that it was his wish to stop Maucune from closing that induced him to prepare to depart from his eyrie on the Great Arapile, and to descend to take charge of his left wing. Be this as it may, there is no doubt that he was starting to climb down and mount his horse, when a shell from one of Dyneley’s two guns on the British Arapile burst near him, and flung him to the ground with a lacerated right arm, and a wound in his side which broke two ribs[539]. He himself says that there was nothing irremediable in the state of his army at the moment that he was disabled. His critic, Foy, held otherwise. ‘The Duke of Ragusa,’ he wrote, ‘insinuated that the battle of the 22nd was lost because, after his own wounding, there was a gap in the command, anarchy, and disorder. But it was the Duke who forced on the battle, and that contrary to the advice of General Clausel. His left was already beaten when he was disabled: already it was impossible either to refuse a battle or to give it a good turn. It was only possible to attenuate the disaster--and that was what Clausel did[540].’ Foy also insinuates that Maucune’s advance, at least in its early stages, was consonant with Marmont’s intentions. ‘He had made his arrangements for a decisive blow: when the English were seen to take up their position, the heads of the columns were turned to the left, so as to occupy the elevations which dominate the plain, and swell up one after another. The occupation of one led to the temptation to seize the next, and so by advance after advance the village of Arapiles was at last reached. Maucune’s division actually held it for some minutes. Nevertheless we had not yet made up our minds to deliver battle, and the necessary dispositions for one had not been made. My division was still occupying the plateau of Calvarisa, with the 3rd and 4th Divisions (Ferey and Sarrut) and the dragoons supporting me in the rear. Here, then, was a whole section of the army quite out of the fight: and the other divisions were not well linked together, and could be beaten one after the other.’

[538] Marmont says that it was ‘environ trois heures du soir.’ But I think that about 3.45 should be given as the hour, since Maucune only left the woods at 2 o’clock, and had to march on to the plateau, to take up his position, to send out his _voltigeurs_, and to get them close in to Arapiles before he would have sent such a message to his chief. Foy says ‘between 3 and 4 p.m.’

[539] Many years after, when Marmont, now a subject of Louis XVIII, was inspecting some British artillery, an officer had the maladroit idea of introducing to him the sergeant who had pointed the gun--the effect of the shot in the middle of the French staff had been noticed on the British Arapile.

[540] _Vie militaire de Foy_, p. 177.

Foy is certainly correct in asserting that, at the moment of the Marshal’s wound, he himself and Ferey were too far off to be brought up in time to save Maucune, and that Bonnet, Maucune, Clausel, and Thomières were in no solid connexion with each other. This indeed was what made Wellington deliver his attack. It is probable that the Marshal’s wound occurred just about the moment (3.45) when Pakenham and D’Urban were being directed by Wellington to advance. Even if it fell a trifle earlier, the French left wing was already too dislocated to have time to get into a good position before it was attacked. Marmont, it must be confessed, rather gave away his case when, in his reply to Napoleon’s angry query why he had fought a battle on the 22nd, he answered that he had not intended to deliver a general action at all--it had been forced on him by Wellington[541]. If so, he was responsible for being caught by his adversary with his army strung out in such a fashion that it had a very poor chance of avoiding disaster. If it be granted that the unlucky shell had never struck him, it would not have been in ‘a quarter of an hour[542]’ (as he himself pretends), nor even in a whole hour, that he could have rearranged a line six miles long[543], though he might have stopped Maucune’s attack and Thomières’s flank march in a much shorter time.

[541] Marmont to Berthier, _Mémoires_, iv. p. 468.

[542] Ibid., ‘la gauche eut été formée en moins d’un quart d’heure’!

[543] The exact moment of Marmont’s wound is very difficult to fix, as also that of Wellington’s attack. The Marshal himself (as mentioned above, p.438) says that he was hit ‘environ les trois heures,’ and that Leith and Cole advanced ‘peu après, sur les quatre heures.’ Foy places the wound merely ‘between 3 and 4 p.m.’ Parquin, who commanded Marmont’s escort of _chasseurs_, says that the Marshal had been carried back to Alba de Tormes by 4 o’clock--impossibly early. On the other hand Napier gives too late an hour, when saying that Marmont was wounded only at the moment when Leith and Cole advanced, 4.45 or so, and was running down from the Arapile because of their movement. This is, I imagine, much too late. But it is supported by _Victoires et Conquêtes_, sometimes a well-documented work but often inaccurate, which places the unlucky shot at 4.30. Grattan places the order to the British infantry (Leith and Cole) to prepare to attack at 4.20--Leith Hay at ‘at least an hour after 3 o’clock.’ Gomm, on the other hand, makes Wellington move ‘at 3 o’clock in the afternoon.’ Tomkinson (usually very accurate) places Pakenham’s and Leith’s success at ‘about 5 p.m.’ D’Urban thinks that he met Lord Wellington and received his orders _after_ 4 p.m.--probably he is half an hour too late in his estimate.

On Marmont’s fall, the command of the army of Portugal fell to Bonnet, the senior general of division. He was within a few yards of his wounded chief, since his division was holding the Great Arapile, and took up the charge at once. But it was an extraordinary piece of ill-luck for the French that Bonnet also was wounded within an hour, so that the command passed to Clausel before six o’clock. As Foy remarks, however, no one could have saved the compromised left wing--Marmont had let it get into a thoroughly vicious position before he was disabled.

Since the main clash of the battle of Salamanca started at the western end of the field, it will be best to begin the narrative of the British advance with the doings of Pakenham and D’Urban. These two officers had some two miles of rough ground to cover between the point where Wellington had parted from them, and the point which had now been reached by the head of the French advance. They were ordered to move in four ‘columns of lines,’ with D’Urban’s cavalry forming the two outer or right-hand columns, the third composed of Wallace’s brigade (1/45th, 1/88th, 74th) and of Power’s Portuguese (9th and 21st Line and 12th Caçadores), while the fourth consisted of Campbell’s brigade (1/5th, 2/5th, 94th, 2/83rd). The object of this formation was that the division, when it came into action, should be able to deploy into two lines, without the delay that would have been caused if the third brigade had followed in the wake of the other two[544].

[544] Wellington in his dispatch (ix. p. 302) speaks of the four columns, D’Urban makes it clear that his own squadrons formed the outer two, but the fact that Power’s Portuguese followed Wallace in the 3rd column only emerges in the Regimental History of the 45th (Dalbiac), p. 103. This is quite consistent with the other information.

The way in which the two sides came into collision was rather peculiar. Thomières’s column was accompanied by the whole, or nearly the whole, of Curto’s light cavalry division, which, as one would have supposed, would naturally have been keeping a squadron or so in advance to explore the way, as well as others on the flanks to cover the infantry. But it appears that this simple precaution was not taken, for Pakenham and D’Urban met no French cavalry at all, till they had got well in touch with the hostile infantry. Curto, we must suppose, was marching parallel with the centre, not certainly with the head, of Thomières’s division, without any vedettes or exploring parties in front. For D’Urban describes the first meeting as follows:--

‘The enemy was marching by his left along the wooded heights, which form the southern boundary of the valley of the Arapiles, and the western extremity of which closes in a lower fall, which descends upon the little stream of the Azan, near the village of Miranda. As the head of our column approached this lower fall, or hill, skirting it near its base, and having it on our left, we became aware that we were close to the enemy, though we could not see them owing to the trees, the dust, and the peculiar configuration of the ground. Anxious, therefore, to ascertain their exact whereabouts I had ridden out a little in front, having with me, I think, only my brigade-major Flangini and Da Camara, when upon clearing the verge of a small clump of trees, a short way up the slope, I came suddenly upon the head of a French column of infantry, having about a company in front, and marching very fast by its left. It was at once obvious that, as the columns of the 3rd Division were marching on our left, the French must be already beyond their right, and consequently I ought to attack at once[545].’

[545] All this from D’Urban’s unpublished narrative in the D’Urban papers.

This was apparently the leading battalion of the French 101st, marching with its front absolutely uncovered by either cavalry vedettes or any exploring parties of its own. D’Urban galloped back, unseen by the enemy, and wheeled his leading regiment, the 1st Portuguese dragoons--three weak squadrons of little over 200 sabres--into line, with orders to charge the French battalion, before it should take the alarm and form square. The 11th Portuguese, and two squadrons of the British 14th Light Dragoons, which had only just arrived on the ground, being the foremost part of Arentschildt’s brigade, followed in support. The charge was successful--the French were so much taken by surprise that the only manœuvre they were able to perform was to close their second company upon the first, so that their front was six deep. The two squadrons of the Portuguese which attacked frontally suffered severe loss, their colonel, Watson, falling severely wounded among the French bayonets. But the right-hand squadron, which overlapped the French left, broke in almost unopposed on the unformed flank of the battalion, which then went to pieces, and was chased uphill by the whole of the Portuguese horsemen, losing many prisoners[546].

[546] All this is from D’Urban’s narrative, and letters from Colonel Watson to D’Urban. The colonel bitterly resented Napier’s account of the charge (_Peninsular War_, iv. p. 268).

This sudden assault on his leading unit, which seems to have been

## acting as an advanced guard, and was considerably ahead of the next,

must have been sufficiently startling to Thomières, who was taken wholly unawares. But the next moment brought worse trouble: the first brigade of the 3rd Division--Wallace’s--emerged almost simultaneously with the cavalry charge from the scattered trees which had hitherto covered its advance, and was seen coming uphill in beautiful order against him. He was caught in a long column--battalion marching behind battalion, with considerable intervals between the regiments, of which there were three (101st, three battalions; 62nd, two battalions; 1st, three battalions)[547]. If he was able to see Pakenham’s supporting lines, which is a little doubtful, Thomières must have known that he was considerably outnumbered: the British division had 5,800 men against his 4,500, while Curto’s 1,800 light cavalry were not forthcoming at the critical moment to save the situation.

[547] The division was marching left in front, so that the senior regiment was in the rear. The fourth unit of the division (23rd Léger) was absent, garrisoning Astorga, as was also the 2nd battalion of the 1st, which was a very strong four-battalion corps. Hence there were only 8 battalions out of 11 present, or 4,300 men out of 6,200.

The space between the advancing line of Wallace’s brigade and the head of the French column, when they came in sight of each other, was about 1,000 yards--the time that it took to bring them into collision just sufficed to enable Thomières to make some sort of hasty disposition of his battalions: those in the rear pushed out on to the flanks of the leading regiment, and made an irregular line of columns badly spaced. The _voltigeurs_ of each battalion had time to run to the front: ‘their light troops,’ says a witness from the Connaught Rangers, ‘hoping to take advantage of the time which our deploying from column into line would take, ran down the face of the hill in a state of great excitement.’ Pakenham appears to have sent out against them his three companies of the 5/60th and the whole of the 12th Caçadores, a skirmishing line of superior strength. Wallace’s three battalions formed line from open column without halting, when they had got to within 250 yards of the enemy: ‘the different companies, by throwing forward their right shoulders, were in line without the slow manœuvre of a deployment.’ The French fire is said to have been rather ineffective, because delivered downhill. The most serious loss was that caused by Thomières’s divisional battery, which got up and into action very promptly. It was answered by Douglas’s battery, the divisional artillery of the 3rd Division, which unlimbered on a knoll at the edge of the wood, and sent a raking discharge uphill, against the right of the French division, shelling it over the heads of the brigade advancing up the slope. The two Portuguese line regiments, from the rear of Wallace’s brigade, formed in support of him: Campbell’s brigade followed as a third line.

The main body of the French[548] stood in a group, rather than a line, of battalion columns near the brow of the hill, while Wallace’s brigade continued to press upwards with a front which outflanked the enemy at both ends. ‘Regardless of the fire of the _tirailleurs_, and the shower of grape and canister, the brigade continued to press onward. The centre (88th regiment) suffered, but still advanced, the right and left (l/45th and 74th) continued to go forward at a more rapid pace, and as the wings inclined forward and outstripped the centre, the brigade assumed the form of a crescent[549].’ They were nearly at the brow, when Thomières directed the French columns to charge down in support of his _tirailleurs_. The mass, with drums beating and loud shouts of _Vive l’Empereur_, ran forward, and the leading files delivered a heavy fire, which told severely on the 88th. But on coming under fire in return the French halted, and then wavered: ‘their second discharge was unlike the first--it was irregular and ill-directed, the men acted without concert or method: many fired in the air.’ The three British battalions then cheered and advanced, when the enemy, his columns already in much confusion and mixed with the wrecks of his _tirailleurs_, gave way completely, and went off in confusion along the top of the plateau.

[548] It is not certain that the whole of the rear regiment (the 1st Line) was in the group: possibly one or two of its battalions were not yet on the ground.

[549] Grattan, p. 245.

Just at this moment Curto’s _chasseurs_ at last appeared--where they had been up to this moment does not appear, but certainly not in their proper place. Now, however, six or seven squadrons of them came trotting up on the outer flank of the broken division, of whom some charged the two battalions which formed the right of Pakenham’s first and third lines--the 1/45th and 1/5th respectively. The former, feebly attacked, threw back some companies _en potence_ and beat off their assailants easily. The latter fell back some little way, and had many men cut up, but finally rallied in a clump and were not broken[550]. Their assailants disappeared a moment after, being driven off by Arentschildt, who had just come up on Pakenham’s right with the five squadrons of the 1st Hussars K.G.L. and 14th Light Dragoons[551]. D’Urban’s Portuguese were now a little to the rear, rallying after their successful charge and collecting prisoners: their commander says in his narrative of this part of the battle that he never saw any French cavalry till later in the day, but does not dispute that the 5th may have been attacked by them without his knowledge.

[550] The 1/5th lost 126 men, more than any other 3rd Division regiment except the 88th. Sergeant Morley of the 5th, its only Salamanca diarist, writes (p. 113): ‘There was a pause--a hesitation. Here I blush--but I should blush more if I were guilty of a falsehood. We retired--slowly, in good order, not far, not 100 paces. General Pakenham approached, and very good-naturedly said “re-form,” and after a moment “advance--there they are, my lads--let them feel the temper of your bayonets.” We advanced--rather slowly at first, a regiment of dragoons which had retired with us again accompanying ... and took our retribution for our repulse.’ The dragoon regiment was presumably part of D’Urban’s brigade.

[551] This comes from the report of Arentschildt on the doings of his brigade: it is not mentioned by Napier, nor is there anything about it in Wellington’s dispatch. The time is fixed by Arentschildt speaking of it as ‘during the attack on the first hill.’ He says that he closed with the main body of the French horse and drove it off.

Curto’s cavalry being driven off, the 3rd Division and its attendant squadrons pursued the broken French division of infantry along the top of the plateau, and very nearly annihilated it. Thomières was killed, his divisional battery was captured whole; of his two leading regiments the 101st Line lost 1,031 men out of 1,449 present: its colonel and eagle were both taken with many hundred unwounded prisoners: the 62nd Line lost 868 men out of 1,123. The rear regiment, the 1st Line, got off with the comparatively trifling casualty-list of 231 out of 1,743: it was possibly not up in time to take part in resisting Pakenham’s first attack, and may perhaps have done no more than cover the retreat of the wrecks of the two leading regiments. The whole division was out of action as a fighting body for the rest of the day, having lost 2,130 men out of a little over 4,500.[552] The victorious British 3rd Division, whose casualties had not amounted to more than 500 of all ranks, continued to press the fugitives before it, till it had gone a mile, and came in on the flank of Maucune’s division, the next unit in the French line; D’Urban’s cavalry accompanied it close on its right flank, Arentschildt’s squadrons lay farther out, watching Curto’s defeated first brigade of _chasseurs_, which rallied upon a reserve, his second brigade, and made head once more against the pursuers, just about the same time that Pakenham’s infantry began again to meet with resistance.

[552] The losses in officers of the three regiments were, taking killed and wounded only, not unwounded prisoners, 25 for the 101st, 15 for the 62nd, 5 for the 1st, by Martinien’s lists. The British returns of prisoners sent to England, at the Record Office, show 6 officers from the 101st, 2 from the 62nd, and 1 from the 1st, received after the battle. I presume that nearly all the wounded, both officers and rank and file, count among the prisoners. The 1st entered in its regimental report 176 _tués ou pris_, 22 _blessés_, 29 _disparus_: here the only people who got away would be the 22 _blessés_. The regimental return of the 101st shows 31 officers wanting--which seems to correspond to the 25 killed and wounded plus the 6 prisoners sent to England.

SECTION XXXIII: