As we know, Marmont had every right subsequently to feel aggrieved, these orders not being obeyed and catastrophe following. Since any despatch by a defeated General must traditionally make plain who the culprit was, Marmont’s is a fair effort to shift the blame onto Maucune and the dead Thomières whilst carefully not addressing his own involvement, or rather lack of involvement. As his Emperor commented when the above despatch reached him in Russia, Marmont’s situation had as ‘much complicated stuffing as the inside of a clock, and not a word of truth as to the real state of things’.
These orders were issued sometime after 1pm. The moment Maucune’s columns were seen deploying up on the plateau, with guns to the flank, a now happy Peer hastened to adjust his positions, in anticipation of his long wished for defensive battle. Leith’s 5th Division was brought forward at double quick, to the right of the 4th on the line of the Teso, behind and to the right of the village; Clinton’s 6th was placed in rear of the 4th; Hope’s 7th similarly went into the second line in rear of the 5th. The Light and 1st remained the left wing, together with Bock’s Dragoons. Wellington’s reserve of Bradford’s three Portuguese battalions and Espana’s five Spanish were around Las Torres, so too the eight cavalry regiments of Le Marchant, Anson and Arentschildt.
But his Lordship was to be disappointed. The French were not about to attack. The words ‘occupy’ and ‘form up’ occur in Marmont’s orders, according to his later despatch, not ‘attack’ or ‘advance’. As he makes plain, it is to seize important, unoccupied ground in case his enemy had the same idea; yet at odds with this, he later quite categorically stated Wellington had already commenced his retreat. So quite what was in his mind, and what his actual orders were, rather than what he said they were, is another puzzle.
For now, Maucune’s 5th Division with nine battalions – some 5,000 bayonets – advanced on to the plateau. It is easy to see why Maucune did more than occupy the heights, finishing up near the village, but not easy to understand his attempt to seize it. As Foy noted ‘The elevations which dominate the plain . . . 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.’ (The heights Foy meant are points 889 and 898, followed half a mile later by points 876 and 877 on current maps.) The latter heights are but 700 yards from the village and there at last in full view Maucune halted, his voltigeurs running forward down the slope. Away to their left squadrons of Curto’s Light Cavalry Division covered the movement, to be engaged by Alten’s 14th Light Dragoons and the German 1st Hussars, who being outnumbered had rather the worst of the skirmishing, for it was no more than that. Guns exchanged fire on both sides, of course. Maucune’s own divisional battery was reinforced by two more from Marmont’s reserve, opening on both the village and the Lesser Arapile. Wellington brought forward Lawson’s 6-pounder battery from the 5th Division to support Sympher’s German 9-pounders, and later the 6-pounders of E Troop (Macdonald’s) RHA from the 7th Division; gun positions were established on the slopes held by Anson’s 1st/40th, on the crest of the Arapile itself, and on the slopes of the Teso. Generally, French firepower was superior. Wellington’s three deployed batteries were simply outgunned for, according to Oman, they were eventually opposed by six French. The effect of the French fire was as always in the nature of a lottery. Private John Green, 68th experienced it as the 7th Division came forward to its position behind the 5th:
About this time the cannonading commenced: the French had nearly one hundred pieces of cannon firing on our army . . . We had about sixty pieces; and the thunder of these one hundred and sixty guns was terrible, and beggars description. Having joined the division (the Seventh), and taken our place on the left of the first brigade; we halted a few minutes, and then advanced to the spot where our artillery were stationed. We now came into an open plain, and were completely exposed to the fire of the enemy’s artillery. Along this plain a division of the army was stationed: I think it was the 4th division: the men laid down in order to escape the shot and shells, the army not yet being ready to advance. As our regiment was marching along the rear of this division, I saw a shell fall on one of the men, which killed him on the spot; a part of the shell tore his knapsack to pieces, and I saw it flying in the air after the shell had burst.
The shot of the foe now began to take effect on us. As we were marching in open column to take our position, one of the supernumerary sergeants, whose name was Dunn, had both his legs shot from under him, and died in a few minutes. Shortly after, a shot came and took away the leg and thigh, with part of the body, of a young officer named Finukin: to have seen him, and heard the screams of his servant, would have almost rendered a heart of stone: he was a good master, an excellent officer, and was lamented by all who knew him. The next thing I have to relate is of the company which was directly in our front, commanded by Captain Gough: a cannon-ball came, and striking the right of the company, made the arms gingle and fly in pieces like broken glass. One of the bayonets was broken off, and sent through a man’s neck with as much force as though it had been done by a strong and powerful hand. I saw the man pull it out, and singular to relate, he recovered: three others were also wounded. About this time I had a narrow escape from a cannon-ball, which passed within a few inches of me: although it was nearly spent, yet, had it struck me, I should have been either killed or wounded by it.
After this, we formed column of quarter distance; and several shells fell into our column, and did execution: one shell I shall ever remember: we were in the act of lying down, that it might burst, and do no mischief: the colonel cried out, ‘It is a shot!’ and we stood up immediately; but while in the act of rising, the shell burst in the midst of the regimental column, and, astonishing to relate, not a man received an injury by it.
The Colonel would feel pretty stupid.
Private William Wheeler, 51st, also commented on the cannonading as the 7th Division moved double quick to the right of the line ‘The fire at length became so furious that it was expedient to form grand Divisions, thus leaving an interval of double the space for their shot to pass through’.
The village was defended by the two light companies from the Guards, the three from Ellis’s Fusilier brigade (1st/7th Royal Fusiliers, 1st/23rd Welsh Fusiliers and 1st/48th Northamptons), and the company of Brunswick Oels. Maucune’s voltigeurs actually twice penetrated the village, seizing the houses on the outskirts. Only a company’s worth came first and were held; reinforcements however then joined and with artillery covering fire they drove the light companies back into the village; a counter-attack by two companies of the 7th under Captain Crowder pushed them back but, more reinforcements joining, again the French reached the buildings. A second counter-attack restored the position and that really was that. The Brunswickers suffered ten men hit, the Coldstream thirty-five and the 3rd Guards twenty-four. Ellis’s casualties are not known. Taking the Guards’ company strengths at, say, ninety each, however, these were particularly heavy losses.
There was some puzzlement among onlookers that the voltiguers’ gallantry was not followed up. William Warre:
The enemy opened a most tremendous cannonade upon our whole line from, I should guess, upwards of 50 pieces of cannon, and soon after pushed forward a crowd of sharpshooters, it should appear, however, only to insult our army, as they were not supported, and the heavy columns they had on the hills did not move forward. I suppose that Monr Marmont, with French insolence, thought, because we had not attacked him before, and had moved back to counter manoeuvre him and to avoid being turned, that we were afraid of him, and that he could thus insult us with impunity.
It certainly appears strange, in view of his apparent orders merely to form up on the right end of the plateau, that Maucune should actively unleash several waves of voltigeurs at the village. Or was he encouraged by Marmont to try it on, to try to provoke Wellington? Into attacking, or into withdrawing? His Lordship later was reported to have used the phrase ‘We will
show them we are not to be bullied’, so perhaps Maucune did, after all, provoke an element of reaction. However, there came nothing further from him, bar a continuation of the artillery duel, the infantry on both sides lying down to escape the worst of it. The hard open ground saw the shot grazing for long distances.
During this affair of the light troops before Arapiles, which was over by about 2.30pm, the divisions earmarked to support Maucune (Thomières) and to be his reserve (Clausel) began slowly to emerge from the woods to the south, and move forward on to the plateau. After his voltigeurs’ foray ceased, it is said Maucune moved his division perhaps half a mile farther west, to face Las Torres. Thomières went off at a tangent, not halting in rear of Maucune as one would suppose, but marching west along the heights, passing Maucune’s rear. Clausel still had to clear the line of woods, so with him yet to reach the plateau, nor with Taupin on his designated high ground, neither Maucune or Thomières had support behind them or to either flank.
Curto’s chasseurs on the Monte de Azan ranged ahead of Thomières’s 7th Division, some four miles distant now from Foy’s 1st Division, back at the Chapel. Such an attenuated arc, of length but little depth, wrapped as it was around a much tighter allied concentration, invited the latter to make full use of its interior lines. Wellington with five divisions at his immediate beck and call had just Bonnet and Maucune to his front, with a gap between them of nearly a mile, and with a further three divisions in full view: Foy and Ferey up north, and Thomières heading west.
Now contrary to some views, time and space on the Monte de Azan indicate the latter’s progress was neither continuous nor rapid. It is generally accepted that he met his fate above Miranda de Azan shortly before 5pm, having covered some three and a quarter miles along the Monte from the woods south of the French Arapile. It is not credible that this distance, even allowing for the midday heat, could take two or more hours. This rather weakens the idea that he was trying, contrary to what Marmont said his orders were, by forced march to get around the allies’ flank. For whatever reason, it seems his division was at times static. This nicely introduces the next critical development in the story, which is Lord Wellington’s apparently sudden, indeed dramatic, intention to attack. There are a great many descriptions left to us, the details naturally varying, but not in two particulars: that the decision to attack was taken instantly, and was as instantly acted upon. For such to occur, a plan would already have been formed in the Peer’s mind (as no doubt he had several others) and it would have been predicated on the development of events. ‘That will do’ appropriately summed up the moment he recognised the arrival of the catalyst. Indeed, since it revolves around the curious progress, all by itself, of Marmont’s left flank division gradually going further out on a limb, Wellington would previously have settled on some physical point on the crest opposite at which, if reached by Thomières, he would swing into action.
Charles Greville in his Memoires gives Wellington’s own account as recorded in early 1838:
He was dining in a farm-yard with his officers, where (he had done dinner) everybody else came and dined as they could. The whole French army was in sight, moving, and the enemy firing upon the farm-yard in which he was dining. ‘I got up,’ he said, ‘and was looking over a wall round the farm-yard, just such a wall as that’ (pointing to a low stone wall bounding the covert), ‘and I saw the movement of the French left through my glass’. ‘By God,’ said I, ‘that will do, and I’ll attack them directly.’ I had moved up the Sixth [sic: Third] Division through Salamanca, which the French were not aware of, and I ordered them to attack, and the whole line to advance. I had got my army so completely in hand that I could do this with ease.
Ten months later Greville recorded the account by Fitzroy Somerset.
They were going to dine in a farm-yard, but the shot fell so thick there that the mules carrying the dinner were ordered to go to another place. There the Duke dined, walking about the whole time munching, with his field-glass in his hand, and constantly looking through it. On a sudden he exclaimed, ‘By G — , they are extending their line; order my horses.’ The horses were brought and he was off in an instant, followed only by his old German dragoon, who went with him everywhere. The aides-de-camp followed as quickly as they could. He galloped straight to Pakenham’s division and desired him immediately to begin the attack.
Many other versions of the story exist but all contain the excitement of the moment of Wellington’s sudden decision, and its immediate translation into action. His army was balanced near to hand, ready either to withdraw, defend or attack, and had been moved into that posture with a proper and admirable forethought for all contingencies. Here indeed is a great General at work, for the first time on the brink of allowing himself, and his patient, frustrated soldiers, a chance for real glory. Therein lay his one fear, for the men were unaccustomed to making ground rather than to holding it. The excessive enthusiasm of the Guards at Talavera, the mounted version repeatedly performed by his forward-going cavalry, and the anarchy at Badajoz, must all give some pause as to their discipline when off the leash. Well, there was one way to find out, and he had now made his decision.
The plan was for Foy and Ferey at the Chapel to be fixed by the Light Division and by Bock’s dragoons; for Bonnet on the French Arapile to be likewise masked by Pack’s Portuguese brigade; for Cole’s 4th on Pack’s right, supported by Clinton’s 6th, to make for the gap still existing between Bonnet and Maucune; for Leith’s 5th supported by Hope’s 7th, the Spanish and Bradford’s Portuguese brigade, to attack Maucune and Thomières (and who would also be assaulted by Le Marchant and Anson’s six cavalry regiments.) Henry Campbell’s 1st Division would be the reserve, tucked behind the Lesser Arapile.
But first, Pakenham’s 3rd Division supported by D’Urban’s two regiments of Portuguese horse and Arentchildt with his five squadrons, were to hook round to the western end of the Monte de Azan, and roll up Thomières from that direction. Speed of contact now mattered: the quicker the closure upon, and engagement of, the ill-supported Maucune and Thomières, the better the chance of overwhelming them before support could arrive. In essence his Lordship was putting the equivalent of four infantry divisions of thirty-one battalions (twenty British, six Portuguese, five Spanish) and four cavalry brigades of 3,200 sabres against two infantry divisions of seventeen battalions and two cavalry brigades of 1,900 sabres. That is, if we exclude Bonnet, which of course is arguable. In theory, Marmont should be in all sorts of trouble. The question was, however, could Wellington apply his battalions’ firepower before Marmont could strengthen his?
So sometime around 3pm his Lordship hopped on his thoroughbred horse, and set off hell for leather for Aldea Tejada and his brother-in-law Edward Pakenham. He faced a good three mile point. At a 15mph canter he would use up a valuable twelve minutes. There was no question of merely sending a message! In any event, during the time it would take the 3rd Division to come into contact he would be back, to brief his other Divisional Commanders. He would be absent perhaps half an hour. His faithful German dragoon bodyguard went with him, while the rest of his escort, and his staff, followed his dust as best they could on their slower chargers.
CHAPTER 9
Salamanca The 3rd Division’s Attack
About the time of Wellington’s urgent rush to the 3rd Division, his opposite number was hit by shrapnel from one of Captain Dyneley’s two 6-pounders, up on the Lesser Arapile. He suffered a badly lacerated right arm and two broken ribs – not life threatening, but serious enough for his surgeon to wish to amputate the arm (permission refused). It was said, perhaps conveniently, to have happened as he descended the Greater Arapile prior to galloping to stop Thomières’s westwards progress, and to refuse Maucune’s request to make a proper divisional attack on Arapiles village. His Memoires omit explaining why Thomières was not stopped earlier.
The command fell to Clausel as senior divisional commander. But when news of Marmont’s incapacity was carried to the 2nd Division
’s headquarters, Clausel had been removed to the rear. His own injury – a heel injured by shell fragments – needed dressing. Without Clausel, therefore, Bonnet as next senior assumed the command. He had been present with the injured Marshal in rear of the Arapile. He also soon afterwards was seriously wounded in the leg. Clausel eventually arrived, but it can be seen that for an hour or so the French army was effectively headless. There was now no question of averting catastrophe, for Brigadier Jean-Guillaume-Barthelemy, Baron Thomières, with less than two hours to live, was not to be recalled from his appointment with the Hon. Edward Pakenham.
The latter stood dismounted among his officers, two miles from the Pico de Miranda. He watched a pair of horsemen close rapidly from the east. His wife’s brother had already passed Brigadier D‘Urban, ordering him to cover the right flank of the 3rd Division, who were, he said, about to march to the west end of the plateau and upon Thomières. D’Urban’s Journal noted:
Salamanca 1812- Wellington’s Year of Victories Page 29
