Seeing that the fire of the garrison was so effective, the officers in charge of the siege asked for, and obtained from Wellington, three hundred marksmen to keep down the tiraillade. They were taken from the Light Brigade of the King’s German Legion, and spread among the ruins to fire at the embrasures and loopholes of the French. They also hoisted, with some difficulty, two field-guns on to the first floor of the convent of San Bernardo, which lies north-west of San Vincente, and kept up a lively discharge ‘out of the drawing-room window, so to speak. We fired for some hours at each other, during which time an unlucky shot went as completely through my captain’s (Eligé’s) heart as possible. But considering how near we were, I am much surprised that our loss was so slight—one killed and one wounded at my own gun[426].’ But the fire of the San Vincente artillery was by no means silenced.
On the night of June 18th-19th the working party of the 6th Division succeeded in finishing the battery which was to breach the main fort, and also commenced two smaller batteries, to right and left, in places among the ruins, one by the College of Cuenca, the other below San Bernardo[427]. On the morning of the 19th the four 18-pounders and three howitzers opened, and brought down the upper courses of the masonry of that part of San Vincente on which they were trained. But they could not move its lower part, or reach the counterscarp. Wherefore two howitzers were put into the second battery, near the College of Cuenca, which could command the counterscarp. The play of these guns proved insufficient, however, to shake it, and the garrison concentrated such a fire upon them, mainly from musketry at loopholes, that twenty gunners were killed or hurt while working the two howitzers.
Next morning Dickson’s six howitzers from Elvas came up, and served to replace those borrowed from the field companies, wherefore there was only an addition of three pieces net to the battering-train. Two of the 18-pounders were moved round to the battery (No. 2) which had been so hard hit on the preceding day: their fire proved much more effective than that of the howitzers, and brought down an angle of the upper wall of San Vincente and part of its roof, which fell on and crushed many of the French.
But on the 21st it was impossible to continue the battering, for the ignominious reason that there were hardly any more shot left to fire. Only sixty balls remained in store for the 18-pounders, and a little over one hundred for the howitzers[428]. The calculations of the besiegers had been so erroneous that they had used up their stock just as the critical moment had arrived. On the previous day Wellington, seeing what was coming, had sent a hurried message to Almeida for more shot and powder—but the convoy, though urged on with all possible speed, did not arrive at Salamanca till the 26th.
Meanwhile the general engagement for which Wellington had prepared himself seemed likely to come off. Marmont had all his army, save Bonnet alone, collected by the 19th, at Fuente Sauco. On the following day he came boldly forward and drove in the British cavalry vedettes. He showed three columns moving on a parallel front, which observers estimated at 18,000 foot and 2,000 horse—but there were more behind, still invisible. At four in the afternoon he was drawing so close that Wellington assumed his battle position. Five divisions and the two independent Portuguese brigades formed the fighting-line, from San Cristobal southward to Cabrerizos on the bank of the Tormes: the order was (from right to left) 1st-7th-4th-Light-3rd-Pack and Bradford. The reserve was composed of the 5th Division, of Hulse’s brigade of the 6th (of which the remainder was left to blockade the Salamanca forts), and of Carlos de España’s 3,000 Spaniards. Alten’s cavalry covered the British right, Ponsonby’s[429] the left, Bock’s and Le Marchant’s heavy squadrons were in reserve.
It looked at first as though Marmont intended to force on the battle that Wellington desired. Moving with great order and decision, his three columns deployed opposite the heights, and advanced to within a very moderate distance of them—not more than 800 yards at one point. They were extremely visible, as the whole country-side below the British position was a fine plain covered with ripening wheat. The only breaks in the surface were the infrequent villages—in this part of Spain they are all large and far apart—and a few dry watercourses, whose line could be detected winding amid the interminable cornfields. Warning to keep off the position was given to the French by long-range fire from several of the British batteries on salient points of the line. The enemy replied noisily and with many guns: Wellington’s officers judged that he was doing his best to make his approach audible to the garrison of the besieged forts.
At dusk the French occupied the village of Castellanos de Morisco, in front of the right centre of the heights, and then advanced a regiment to attack Morisco, which was absolutely at the foot of them, and had been occupied by Wellington as an advanced post. It was held by the 68th regiment from the 7th Division, a battalion which had come out from England in the preceding autumn, but had, by chance, never been engaged before. It made a fine defence, and beat off three attacks upon the village: but after dark Wellington called it back uphill to the line of the position, abandoning Morisco[430]. Apparently he was glad to see the French pressing in close, and looked for an attack upon his position next morning. Standing on the sky-line above Castellanos at dusk, with a map in his hand, he demonstrated to all the assembled generals commanding divisions the exact part which they were to play, till several French round-shot compelled him to shift his position a little farther back[431]. The whole army slept that night in order of battle, with strong pickets pushed down to the foot of the slopes.
There was, however, no attack at dawn. Marmont’s two rear divisions (those of Foy and Thomières) and a brigade of dragoons were not yet on the ground, and only got up in the course of the afternoon: hence he was naturally unwilling to move, as he had a certain knowledge that he was outnumbered. It would seem that Wellington had, that morning, an opportunity of crushing his enemy, which he must have regretted to have lost on many subsequent days of the campaign. Marmont’s position was one of very great risk: he had pushed in so close to the British heights, that he might have been attacked and brought to action in half an hour, and could not have got away without fighting. His position was visible from end to end—it had no flank protection, and its only strong points were the two villages of Morisco and Castellanos de Morisco on its left centre. Behind was an undulating sea of cornfields extending to the horizon. Wellington (after deducting the two missing brigades of the 6th Division) could have come down in a general charge from his heights, with 37,000 Anglo-Portuguese infantry, and 3,500 horse—not to speak of Carlos de España’s 3,000 Spaniards. Marmont had only five divisions of infantry (about 28,000 bayonets) on the ground at daybreak, and less than 2,000 horse. He was in a thoroughly dominated position, and it is hard to see what he could have done, had Wellington strengthened his left wing with all his cavalry and delivered a vigorous downhill assault on the unprotected French right. The opportunity for an attack was so favourable that Wellington’s staff discussed with curiosity the reasons that might be preventing it, and formed varying hypotheses to account for his holding back[432]. As a matter of fact, as his dispatch to Lord Liverpool explains[433], the British Commander-in-Chief was still hoping for a second Bussaco. He saw that Marmont was not going to attack till his rear had come up, but hoped that he might do so that afternoon or next morning, when he had all his men in hand. The daring way in which the Marshal continued to hold on to an untenable position, within cannon shot of his enemy’s line, seemed to argue an ultimate intention to bring on an action.
Nor was Wellington very far out in his ideas: Marmont was in a state of indecision. When the missing 10,000 men came up he called a council of war—the regular resort of generals in a difficulty. We have concerning it only the evidence of Foy, who wrote as follows in his diary.
‘At dusk on the 21st there was a grand discussion, on the problem as to whether we should or should not give battle to the English. The Marshal seemed to have a desire to do so, but a feeble and hesitating desire. Remembering Vimeiro, Corunna, and Bussaco, I thought that it would be difficult to beat the English, our superiors in number, on such a compact position as that which they were occupying. I had not the first word: I allowed Maucune, Ferey[434], and La Martinière to express their views, before I let them see what I thought. Then Clausel having protested strongly against fighting, I supported his opinion. Because we had left a small garrison in the Salamanca forts, we were not bound to lose 6,000 killed and wounded, and risk the honour of the army, in order to deliver them. The troops were in good spirits, and that is excellent for the first assault: but here we should have a long tough struggle: I doubted whether we had breath enough to keep it up to the end. In short, I saw more chances of defeat than victory. I urged that we ought to keep close to the English, “contain” them, and wait for our reinforcements; this could be done by manœuvring along the left bank of the Tormes above and below Salamanca. Clausel and I set forth this policy from every aspect. The Marshal was displeased: he fancied that his generals were plotting to wreck his plan: he wanted to redeem the blunder which he saw that he had made in leaving a garrison in Salamanca: he dreads the Emperor and the public opinion of the army. He would have liked a battle, but he had not determination enough to persist in forcing it on[435].’