Arthur Wellesley
Duke of Wellington

In India, Wellesley commanded his first independent campaigns and developed the methods that would define his career: meticulous logistics, careful reconnaissance, respect for local conditions, and an insistence on keeping his men fed, supplied and disciplined. He fought at the siege of Seringapatam in 1799, where the Tippoo Sultan was killed, and was made governor of Mysore afterwards.

His masterpiece in India was the Battle of Assaye on 23 September 1803, where he attacked a Mahratta army that outnumbered him roughly five to one. The fighting was ferocious and the casualties heavy; Wellesley later described Assaye as the bloodiest battle he had ever seen, a verdict he maintained even after Waterloo. He followed it with victories at Argaum and the storm of the fortress of Gawilghur, completing the destruction of the Mahratta Confederacy.

This is the setting for the first three Sharpe novels: Tiger (Seringapatam), Triumph (Assaye) and Fortress (Gawilghur). Cornwell places the fictional Richard Sharpe at Wellesley’s side and has him save the general’s life at Assaye, earning the commission that drives the rest of the series.

Wellington was the anti-Napoleon. Where Napoleon sought the decisive battle and the annihilation of enemy armies, Wellington sought to avoid defeat: to hold ground, conserve his forces, and wait for the right moment to strike. His genius lay in logistics, defensive positioning, and a cold-eyed understanding of what his army could and could not do.

His signature tactic was the reverse slope. He deployed his infantry behind the crest of a ridge, sheltered from enemy artillery, and revealed them only when the French columns crested the rise and received devastating volleys at close range. He used this method at Busaco, Salamanca and Waterloo. He reconnoitred his positions personally, often riding ahead of his own pickets, and had an extraordinary eye for ground.

He fed his army when other generals let theirs starve. His supply system in the Peninsula, based on sea-borne logistics through Lisbon and a chain of fortified depots, kept his men provisioned while the French lived by plunder and went hungry. He insisted on discipline and punished looting severely, not from sentiment but because an army that plundered alienated the local population and destroyed its own supply base.

His view of his own men was famously unsentimental. In a private conversation recorded by the Earl Stanhope in November 1813, he described his soldiers as “the very scum of the earth” who had enlisted for drink, but added that “it really is wonderful that we should have made them the fine fellows they are.” The remark is sometimes quoted out of context as contempt; in full, it is closer to astonished professional pride.

On 18 June 1815 Wellington fought his greatest and most desperate battle on the ridge of Mont-Saint-Jean. He chose the ground himself, having reconnoitred it the previous year. His army held a two-mile front against nine hours of French assault: the diversionary attack on Hougoumont, the massed infantry columns of d’Erlon, Ney’s unsupported cavalry charges, the fall of La Haye Sainte at dusk.

The crisis came at 19:30 when the Imperial Guard advanced up the ridge. Wellington’s Guards brigade, lying behind the crest, rose to deliver a volley at thirty yards; the 52nd Light Infantry struck the Guard in the flank. The French broke. Wellington waved his hat forward and ordered a general advance. The Prussians, arriving under Blücher, completed the rout.

To Thomas Creevey the next morning, Wellington described the battle as “the nearest run thing you ever saw in your life.” He never fought again.

Wellington is generally regarded as the greatest British soldier since Marlborough. He fought approximately thirty-six battles in his career and never lost one in independent command. His influence on the British army persisted for decades: its regimental system, its emphasis on musketry, and its tradition of defensive stubbornness all owe something to the Peninsular experience.

He remains a complex figure: a brilliant field commander and a reactionary politician, a man who fed his soldiers but despised reform, who freed Catholic Ireland but opposed the extension of the franchise. Apsley House is now a museum; Stratfield Saye remains in the family. The Wellington boot, named for the style he popularised, is perhaps his most democratic memorial.