The Story of Wellington
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Title: The Story of Wellington
Author: Harold Wheeler
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*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE STORY OF WELLINGTON ***
[Illustration: (front cover)]
THE STORY OF
WELLINGTON
_Uniform with this Volume_
THE STORY OF NAPOLEON
By HAROLD F. B. WHEELER,
F.R.Hist.S. With 16 full-page Illustrations.
THE STORY OF NELSON
By HAROLD F. B. WHEELER, F.R.Hist.S. With 16 full-page
Illustrations.
FAMOUS VOYAGES OF THE GREAT DISCOVERERS
By ERIC WOOD. With 16 full-page Illustrations.
THE STORY OF THE CRUSADES
By E. M. WILMOT-BUXTON, F.R.Hist.S. With 16 full-page
Illustrations by M. MEREDITH WILLIAMS.
STORIES OF THE SCOTTISH BORDER
By Mr and Mrs WILLIAM PLATT. With 16 full-page Illustrations
by M. MEREDITH WILLIAMS.
[Illustration: The Duke writing his Waterloo Despatch
_Fr._ Lady Burghersh
]
THE STORY OF
WELLINGTON
_BY_
HAROLD F. B. WHEELER F.R.Hist.S.
MEMBER OF THE HISTORICAL ASSOCIATION
JOINT-AUTHOR OF
‘NAPOLEON AND THE INVASION OF ENGLAND’ ETC.
AUTHOR OF
‘THE MAXIMS OF NAPOLEON’ ‘THE MIND OF NAPOLEON’
‘THE STORY OF NAPOLEON’ AND ‘THE STORY OF NELSON’
‘_For this is England’s greatest son,
He that gain’d a hundred fights,
Nor ever lost an English gun_’
TENNYSON
LONDON
GEORGE G. HARRAP & COMPANY
3 PORTSMOUTH STREET KINGSWAY W.C.
MCMXII
_Illustrations by Ballantyne & Co., Ltd., London_
_Printed by Turnbull & Spears, Edinburgh_
DEDICATED TO
C. ALFRED HAMILTON, ESQ
MY LIFE-LONG FRIEND
“_Vera amicitia sempiterna est_”
Foreword
In this, the last of a trio of volumes dealing with three great
contemporary men of action, I have attempted to tell the story, in its
main lines, of the crowded life of Wellington. The narrative provides
as substantial a view of Wellington as is possible within the limits of
my space, but I hope that readers of my book will be so interested that
they will go on to the perusal of its companions, for the careers of
Napoleon, Nelson, and Wellington should be studied together. They are
the three sides of a triangle of which Napoleon is the base.
The Duke’s career, when compared to the others, is “a plain,
unvarnished tale,” not altogether devoid of romance, certainly not of
adventure, but lacking in many of the qualities which have endeared
less notable men. It would be obviously untrue to state that Wellington
lacked humanity, but he was certainly deficient in that attractive
personal magnetism so evident in Nelson. Speaking broadly, he did not
repose that confidence in his subordinates which was one of the great
sea-captain’s most marked characteristics, and he often said hard
things of the men under him. Nelson is “the darling Hero of England”;
Wellington will always be known as the Iron Duke. If it ever became
the fashion to canonize military and naval men, Nelson’s nimbus would
be of rosemary, Wellington’s of steel. The mob never broke the windows
of Merton Place, but it shattered every exposed pane in Apsley House.
The incident arose from his conscientious opposition to reform, and
occurred in 1831, sixteen years after the battle of Waterloo. A little
over a decade later, an immense mob cheered him as he proceeded up
Constitution Hill. His acknowledgment was to point to the iron shutters
of his house when he reached Hyde Park Corner. They had been put up
after the bombardment by brickbats, and were never taken down during
his lifetime.
In a way, Wellington is the typical John Bull of our fancy. He gloried
in an open-air life, he enjoyed sport, he was a man wedded to duty,
stern and uncompromising once his mind was made up. We love to imagine
that the average Briton displays the same characteristics, although
we know at heart that he does not do so, and that the secret of our
material success as a nation is our extraordinary power of absorption,
of “setting our sail to every passing breeze,” of compromising provided
we get the best of the bargain.
This is how the Duke appeared to a foreigner, the Duchesse de Dino,
Talleyrand’s niece: “He has a very exact memory, and never quotes
incorrectly. He forgets nothing, and exaggerates nothing, and if his
conversation is a little dry and military, it attracts by its fairness
and perfect propriety. His tone is excellent, and no woman has ever
to be on her guard against the turn that the conversation may take.”
In later years Wellington’s memory failed somewhat. He was invariably
precise, always a soldier, and never given to what is generally known
as small talk. In a word, he commanded.
A more intimate and less familiar view of Wellington is afforded us in
the diary of Benjamin Robert Haydon, who painted the Duke’s portrait
at Walmer Castle in the autumn of 1839. During breakfast, he tells us,
“six dear, healthy, noisy children were brought to the windows. ‘Let
them in,’ said the Duke, and in they came, and rushed over to him,
saying, ‘How d’ye do, Duke? How d’ye do, Duke?’ One boy, young Grey,
roared, ‘I want some tea, Duke!’ ‘You shall have it if you promise not
to slop it over me, as you did yesterday.’ Toast and tea were then in
demand. Three got on one side, and three on the other, and he hugged
’em all. Tea was poured out, and I saw little Grey try to slop it over
the Duke’s frock coat. Sir Astley [Cooper] said, ‘You did not expect to
see this.’
“They all then rushed out on the leads, by the cannon, and after
breakfast I saw the Duke romping with the whole of them, and one of
them gave his Grace a tremendous thump. I went round to my bedroom. The
children came to the window, and a dear little black-eyed girl began
romping. I put my head out and said, ‘I’ll catch you.’ Just as I did
this the Duke, who did not see me, put his head out at the door close
to my room, No. 10, which leads to the leads, and said, ‘I’ll catch ye!
Ha, ha, I’ve got ye!’ at which they all ran away. He looked at them and
laughed and went in.”
That is a very human picture of the grim warrior when the sword had
been put aside for ever and the smoke of battle was cleared. “I hit
his grand, upright, manly expression,” Haydon adds. “He looked like an
eagle of the gods who had put on human shape, and had got silvery with
age and service.... His colour was fresh. All the portraits are too
pale.... ’Twas a noble head. I saw nothing of that peculiar expression
of mouth the sculptors give him, bordering on simpering. His colour was
beautiful and fleshy, his lips compressed and energetic.”
From this passive scene in the evening of his days let us turn to the
more stirring days of the storming of Badajoz for our final portrait
of the Duke, for it is in the field that we like to remember him.
The glimpse is afforded us by Robert Blakeney, one of the boy heroes
of the Peninsular War. “I galloped off,” he writes, “to where Lord
Wellington had taken his station: this was easily discerned by means of
two fireballs shot out from the fortress at the commencement of the
attack, which continued to burn brilliantly along the water-cut which
divided the 3rd from the other divisions. Near the end of this channel,
behind a rising mound, were Lord Wellington and his personal staff,
screened from the enemy’s direct fire, but within range of shells. One
of his staff sat down by his side with a candle to enable the general
to read and write all his communications and orders relative to the
passing events. I stood not far from his lordship. But due respect
prevented any of us bystanders from approaching so near as to enable
us to ascertain the import of the reports which he was continually
receiving; yet it was very evident that the information which they
conveyed was far from flattering; and the recall on the bugles was
again and again repeated. But about half-past eleven o’clock an officer
rode up at full speed on a horse covered with foam, and announced the
joyful tidings that General Picton had made a lodgment within the
castle by escalade, and had withdrawn the troops from the trenches to
enable him to maintain his dearly purchased hold. Lord Wellington was
evidently delighted, but exclaimed, ‘What! abandon the trenches?’ and
ordered two regiments of the 5th Division instantly to replace those
withdrawn. I waited to hear no more, but, admiring the prompt genius
which immediately provided for every contingency, I mounted my horse.”
I shall not attempt to enumerate the lengthy list of authorities I
have consulted in writing this volume, but special mention must be
made of Professor Oman’s monumental “History of the Peninsular War,”
which corrects Napier in many important points. Four volumes have now
been published, and I am under obligation to the eminent scholar whose
name appears on the title-pages for his kindness in allowing me to
use without reserve the labour of many years. The “Cambridge Modern
History” (vol. ix.), Rose’s “Napoleon,” Croker’s “Correspondence and
Diaries,” Siborne’s “Waterloo Letters,” the “Lives” of Wellington by
Sir Herbert Maxwell, W. H. Maxwell, Gleig, Hooper, Yonge, and many
others have been laid under contribution, as well as contemporary works
by soldiers who fought with the Iron Duke. As I have endeavoured to let
Wellington speak for himself whenever possible, Gurwood’s “Dispatches”
have been frequently consulted, and for sidelights I have had access
to a large number of volumes of correspondence, autobiography, and
biography in which he plays a part, however insignificant.
Finally, I must express the hope that my readers, as they progress over
the field which I have endeavoured to open up to them, will share the
love of the strong, silent Man of Duty which has grown upon me as I
have become more intimate with the story of his life.
_The path of duty was the way to glory.
His work is done.
But while the races of mankind endure,
Let his great example stand
Colossal, seen of every land._
HAROLD F. B. WHEELER
NORTHWOOD, MIDDLESEX.
Contents
CHAP. PAGE
I. THE FOOL OF THE FAMILY (1769-93) 17
II. WELLINGTON’S BAPTISM OF FIRE (1794-97) 28
III. THE CAMPAIGN OF SERINGAPATAM (1797-1800) 35
IV. WAR WITH THE MARHATTÁS (1801-3) 47
V. LAST YEARS IN INDIA (1803-5) 58
VI. SERVICE IN ENGLAND, IRELAND, AND DENMARK (1805-7) 68
VII. THE FIRST BATTLES OF THE PENINSULAR WAR (1808) 76
VIII. VICTORY ABROAD AND DISPLEASURE AT HOME (1808-9) 90
IX. SIR ARTHUR’S RETURN TO PORTUGAL (1809) 99
X. TALAVERA (1809) 110
XI. WELLESLEY’S DEFENCE OF PORTUGAL (1809-10) 119
XII. THE LINES OF TORRES VEDRAS (1810) 128
XIII. MASSÉNA BEATS A RETREAT (1810-11) 137
XIV. THE SIEGE OF CIUDAD RODRIGO (1811-12) 154
XV. BADAJOZ AND SALAMANCA (1812) 165
XVI. THE CLOSING BATTLES OF THE PENINSULAR WAR (1812-14) 181
XVII. THE PRELUDE TO THE WATERLOO CAMPAIGN (1814-15) 200
XVIII. LIGNY AND QUATRE BRAS (1815) 210
XIX. WATERLOO (1815) 218
XX. WELLINGTON THE STATESMAN (1815-52) 236
INDEX 253
MAPS--
(1) WELLINGTON’S CAMPAIGNS IN INDIA 37
(2) WELLINGTON’S PENINSULAR CAMPAIGNS 77
(3) THE BATTLE OF WATERLOO 219
Illustrations
PAGE
THE DUKE WRITING HIS WATERLOO DISPATCH
(_Lady Burghersh_) _Frontispiece_
ARTHUR AND THE MARQUIS DE PIGNEROL (_George W. Joy_) 20
“THE FULL FORCE OF THE BLAST” (_Thomas Maybank_) 32
“HE WAS HURLED DOWN BY THE DEFENDERS” (_Thomas Maybank_) 54
SIR HARRY SMITH AND THE SPANISH PATRIOT
(_Thomas Maybank_) 82
THE GALLANT PIPER AT VIMIERO (_Thomas Maybank_) 92
“YOU ARE TOO YOUNG, SIR, TO BE KILLED!”
(_Thomas Maybank_) 128
THE RETREAT FROM COIMBRA (_Thomas Maybank_) 138
WELLINGTON AT BADAJOZ CONGRATULATING COLONEL WATSON
(_R. Caton Woodville_) 168
THE END OF BREAKFAST (_Thomas Maybank_) 172
CHARGE OF PAKENHAM’S THIRD DIVISION AT SALAMANCA
(_R. Caton Woodville_) 178
FLIGHT OF THE FRENCH THROUGH VITTORIA (_Robert Hillingford_) 190
THE FRENCH RETREAT OVER THE PYRENEES
(_R. Caton Woodville_) 198
FARM OF MONT ST JEAN }
}
CHÂTEAU OF HOUGOUMONT }
} (_Photographs by C. A. Hamilton_,}
LA BELLE ALLIANCE INN } _Hornsey_) } 222
}
FARM OF LA HAYE SAINTE }
THE DESPERATE STAND OF THE GUARDS AT HOUGOUMONT
(_R. Caton Woodville_) 226
Charge of the Scots Greys at Waterloo
(_R. Caton Woodville_) 234
The Story of Wellington
CHAPTER I
The Fool of the Family
(1769-93)
“_I don’t know what I shall do with my awkward son Arthur._”
LADY MORNINGTON.
Gathering clouds, dark and ominous, obscured the political horizon in
the year 1769. The habitués of London coffee-houses discussed one of
three things--“The Letters of Junius,” the most remarkable series of
political exposures ever penned; the election of the notorious John
Wilkes for Middlesex; and the rebellious conduct of the North American
colonists. On the other side of the Channel the Duc de Choiseul was
skilfully planning ways and means of fanning into a fierce outburst
the flames of discontent now flickering in the West. To heap coals of
fire on the country which, during the Seven Years’ War (1756-63), had
enforced her claims to Canada and India, would be a triumph worthy
of the statesman who had banished the Jesuits from the hereditary
possessions of Louis XV.
Had the people who lived in those stirring times been gifted with the
power of penetrating the future, their eyes would have turned in the
eventful year of 1769 from the larger stages to the comparatively
insignificant islands of Corsica and Ireland, for the former was the
birthplace of Napoleon and the latter of Wellington, and both were born
in 1769.
There are other remarkable coincidences connected with the childhood
of Napoleon and Wellington. Their respective fathers were easy-going,
unpractical men, their mothers were women of marked force of character,
left widows early in life with large families. In addition, the hero of
Austerlitz was the fourth child of Letizia Bonaparte, his conqueror at
Waterloo the fourth son of the Countess of Mornington.
A certain amount of obscurity is associated with their juvenile days.
Although the date of the entrance into the world of “the little
Corporal” is now fairly well established, it was long before historians
ceased to discuss it. There is still much uncertainty as to that of
Wellington. The Duke was always vague on the point, and celebrated
his birthday on the 1st May, which is the day following that on which
he was baptized at St Peter’s, Dublin, presuming the parish register
to be correct.[1] Lady Mornington announced that Arthur was a Mayday
boy, but her nurse as stoutly maintained that the event took place on
the 6th March. Dangan Castle, West Meath, and Mornington House, Marion
Street, Dublin, contest the honour of being his birthplace. The witness
for the country home is the afore-mentioned nurse; a prescription of
the physician who attended Lady Mornington about the period was sent
to a chemist in Ireland’s capital, and attests the claim of the town
mansion. The matter is not of prime importance, but serves to show the
somewhat casual habits of a less practical generation than our own.
The real family name of the Westleys, Wesleys, or Wellesleys--the
different forms were all used--was Colley or Cowley, but the Duke’s
grandfather inherited the estates of his kinsman, Garret Wesley, on
condition that he assumed that surname. He became Baron Mornington in
1747. It was the son of this fortunate individual, also a Garret, who
was created the first Earl of Mornington in the year previous to his
marriage to the eldest daughter of Viscount Dungannon. They became the
parents of the future Duke of Wellington as well as of several other
children.
Of Arthur Wellesley’s scholastic career little can be ascertained
with certainty. We know that he spent a little while at a preparatory
school in Chelsea, then a very different place from what it is now, and
that he and his eldest brother, Lord Wellesley, who had succeeded his
father on his sire’s death in 1781, were at the same house at Eton.
Unfortunately the two rooms which they occupied are now demolished.
While it would be incorrect to call Arthur a dull boy, he certainly
displayed little interest in learning. Indeed, his mother was so
cynical regarding his ability, or want of it, that she called him “the
fool of the family.”
The dictum that Waterloo was won on the playing fields of Eton may have
been true so far as other officers were concerned, but the younger
Wellesley showed not the slightest interest in games. He preferred the
fiddle to cricket, for he inherited his father’s passion for music.
“I was a player on the violin once myself, sir,” he mentioned to an
acquaintance in after years, “but I soon found that fiddling and
soldiering didn’t agree--so I gave it up, sir! I gave it up!” He was a
great admirer of Handel’s compositions.
One precious anecdote regarding his life at the famous public school
has been spared to posterity, and appropriately enough it is a record
of his first serious fight--not with a sword, but with fisticuffs.
Robert Smith, brother of Sydney Smith, the witty divine and essayist,
happened to be bathing in the river when Wellesley was passing.
Prompted by some evil or jocular spirit the latter picked up a handful
of small stones and began to pelt his fellow student. Smith yelled
that he would thrash him if he did not stop. Wellesley defiantly dared
him to do so. The enraged “Bobus” promptly waded out and accepted the
challenge, which he regretted before many rounds had been fought.
Although Wellesley was by no means of a pugnacious disposition, a
second fight, in which he was not victorious, took place during a
holiday spent at the Welsh home of his maternal grandfather, Lord
Dungannon. His opponent was a young blacksmith, named Hughes, who lived
to hear of the mighty exploits of the Iron Duke. He was never tired of
telling how he once conquered the vanquisher of Napoleon. It was his
one title to fame.
[Illustration: Arthur and the Marquis de Pignerol
George W. Joy]
After leaving Eton, Wellesley was taken to Brussels in 1784 by his
mother, who found the many attractions of London society a heavy tax
on a slender purse, for she had removed to the Metropolis on the
death of her husband. As her son seemed to take little or no interest
in anything but the army, and as that service was then considered a
desirable alternative to the Church for the fool of the family, Lady
Mornington accepted the offer of some friends to provide for his
military education. Whatever ability her fourth son displayed seems to
have been less obvious to her than to others, as frequently happens.
“They are all,” she writes with reference to her family, “I think,
endowed with excellent abilities except Arthur, and he would probably
not be wanting, if only there was more energy in his nature; but he is
so wanting in this respect, that I really do not know what to do with
him.” However, the youth whom she described as being “food for powder
and nothing more” was packed across the frontier to Angers. She herself
returned to London in 1785, Wellesley proceeding to the quaint
old town associated with King John of England. Here he had his first
encounter with the French, and there is a celebrated picture showing
him in conversation with the Marquis of Pignerol.
Pignerol, who presided over an Academy, not exclusively devoted to the
training of would-be soldiers as some writers have assumed, was an
engineer officer, and did his best to initiate the Irish lad into some
of the mysteries of the science of war. As his pupil only remained at
Angers for about twelve months, he cannot have learned more than the
rudiments, but he assimilated French with comparative ease. Unlike
Napoleon, who was never happier than when he was poring over military
books at Brienne, Wellesley enjoyed much good society. He made the
acquaintance of the Duc de Brissac, who seems to have been a delightful
foster-father of the scholars, for he frequently entertained them at
his château. The Duc de Praslin, the Abbé Siéyès, later one of the
French Consuls, D’Archambault, Talleyrand’s brother, Jaucourt, who
afterwards became Secretary for Foreign Affairs under Louis XVIII,
were all on his visiting list. It is quite probable that among his
schoolmates was Chateaubriand, destined to fill an honoured place in
the world of letters, but of this, said the Duke, he was not absolutely
certain.
The British army was not then the skilfully organised fighting-machine
it has since become. Entrance into its ranks as an officer was not
difficult, provided one had financial support and influence. This
explains the rapid promotion of Wellesley. At the age of seventeen he
began his military career as an ensign in a Foot regiment, his gazette
being dated the 7th March 1787. Nine months later he was promoted
lieutenant into the 76th. By successive steps he rose to be captain
(1791), major (1793), lieutenant-colonel (1793), and colonel (1796). A
colonel at twenty-seven is beyond the dreams of mortal men to-day, and
this advancement contrasts oddly with the slow progress of Nelson,
Wellesley’s great naval contemporary, who had to depend upon his own
unaided merits for promotion. In 1793, six years following his first
appointment, he was placed in command of the 33rd Foot, after having
experience of the cavalry by serving in both the 12th and 18th Light
Dragoons.
A little influence went a long way in those casual times; there was
nothing so valuable as “a friend at court.” Unlike many aristocratic
nobodies who secured high position, Wellesley afterwards proved his
worth, but he scarcely would have ascended the military ladder with
such astonishing quickness had not his brother Richard held office
under the younger Pitt. Lord Westmorland, Lord-Lieutenant of Ireland,
also took a fancy to him and made him one of his _aides-de-camp_.
In 1790, when he was still in his twenty-first year, he entered the
Irish House of Commons as Member of Parliament for Trim, County Meath,
a “pocket borough” of the Wellesley family. We are told by Sir Jonah
Barrington, who made his acquaintance some three years later, that
the young soldier “was then ruddy-faced and juvenile in appearance,
and popular enough among the young men of his age and station. His
address was unpolished; he occasionally spoke in Parliament, but
not successfully, and never on important subjects; and evinced no
promise of that unparalleled celebrity and splendour which he has
since reached, and whereto intrepidity and decision, good luck, and
great military science have justly combined to elevate him.” The same
authority then proceeds to introduce us to Lord Castlereagh, and adds:
“At the period to which I allude, I feel confident nobody could have
predicted that one of those young gentlemen would become the most
celebrated English general of his era, and the other one of the most
mischievous statesmen and unfortunate ministers that has ever appeared
in modern Europe.[2] However, it is observable that to the personal
intimacy and reciprocal friendship of those two individuals they
mutually owed the extent of their respective elevation and celebrity:
Sir Arthur Wellesley never would have had the chief command in Spain
but for the ministerial manœuvring and aid of Lord Castlereagh; and
Lord Castlereagh never could have stood his ground as a minister, but
for Lord Wellington’s successes.”
Another contemporary tells quite a different story of Wellesley’s
ability, and as he also heard him in 1793 it is printed here in order
that the reader may not be prejudiced by Barrington’s opinion. So
much is determined by the point-of-view of the witness. The occasion
was a debate on the perennial question of the Roman Catholics.
Captain Wellesley’s remarks, we are told, “were terse and pertinent,
his delivery fluent, and his manner unembarrassed.” Gleig, who was
intimately acquainted with the Duke, says that he “seems to have
spoken but rarely, and never at any length. His votes were of course
given in support of the party to which he belonged, but otherwise he
entered very little into the business of the House.” He mentions but
one incident connected with this period, namely, Wellesley’s attachment
to the Hon. Catherine Pakenham, an acknowledged Society beauty and a
daughter of Baron Longford. His Lordship, possessing a keen eye for the
practical affairs of life, objected to the match on the score of lack
of money, but there is little doubt that the couple came to a mutual
understanding.
That Wellesley took more than a casual interest in his military
duties is evident, and if he did not display the inherent genius of
Napoleon he certainly went about his duties in a highly commendable and
workmanlike manner. For instance, he had scarcely donned the uniform
of his first regiment before he entered into calculations regarding
the weight of the accoutrements, ammunition, and other paraphernalia
carried by a private when in marching order. For this purpose he
ordered a soldier to be weighed both with and without his trappings.
“I wished,” he says, “to have some measure of the power of the
individual man compared with the weight he was to carry and the work
he was expected to do. I was not so young as not to know that since I
had undertaken a profession I had better endeavour to understand it.”
He adds, “It must always be kept in mind that the power of the greatest
armies depends upon what the individual soldier is capable of doing
and bearing,” a maxim which still holds good, notwithstanding the many
changes effected in the course of a century and a quarter. However
excellent the gun, it is the man behind it which determines the issue.
It was not until 1794 that Wellesley underwent the hardships of active
service. Before that phase of his career is detailed we must make a
hasty and general survey of the wide and scattered field of action.
The occasion was the second year of the great strife which occupied
the attention of Europe, with little intermittance, for over twenty
years. The gauntlet had been flung down by France in 1792, when war was
declared against the Holy Roman Empire, with which Prussia made common
cause. The campaign was an eye-opener to all Europe, for although
the Prussians and Austrians began well they did not follow up their
advantages, particularly when the road to Châlons and Paris lay open
to the former. At Valmy the Prussians were defeated, and subsequently
withdrew across the frontier in a deplorable condition of dearth and
disease. Dumouriez then invaded Flanders, and was victorious over the
Austrians at Jemappes, a success followed by the fall of Mons, Malines,
Ghent, Brussels, Antwerp, and Namur, while smaller towns, such as
Tournay, Ostend, and Bruges welcomed the victorious troops with open
arms as the heralds of a new era.
In Savoy the scanty Sardinian forces were routed by Montesquiou, and
the country annexed, as was Nice by Anselme. With the dawning of 1793
Belgium shared a similar fate, and the occupation of Dutch territory
was decided on. This latter was an extremely foolish move, as events
soon proved.
England and Holland became involved in the second month of the new
year, when the French Convention announced hostile intentions to
both Powers. Previous to this, Great Britain had maintained a strict
neutrality. She now commenced proceedings by sending 10,000 troops to
Holland under the incompetent Duke of York, where they united with a
similar force of Hessians and Hanoverians, whose expenses were met by
English gold, a plentiful supply of which also found its way into the
coffers of other Powers. The Island Kingdom and Russia had already
allied themselves, although the Czarina’s designs on Poland precluded
immediate co-operation, and during the next few months Sardinia, Spain,
Naples, Prussia, the Holy Roman Empire, and Portugal joined in mutual
support.
Dumouriez duly appeared on Dutch territory, but was compelled to
retreat on Flanders by the defeat of the general engaged in besieging
Maestricht. On resuming offensive operations he himself lost the
battle of Neerwinden. Within a fortnight the French had abandoned all
their conquests in Belgium, which again passed into the possession of
Austria. Dumouriez took refuge in the camp of the Imperialists after
negotiating with Coburg, the commander of the “White Coats,” to place
the frontier fortresses into his hands and to unite the two armies.
Neither arrangement was carried through, for the defeated general
found it more prudent to fly the country.[3] Mayence, on the Rhine,
was invested by the Prussians, to whom it eventually capitulated, and
Valenciennes and Condé were successfully besieged by the Austrians and
British. All three fortresses fell during July 1793.
The tide was beginning to turn even in France, for Toulon and Lyons
openly revolted, and civil war broke out in La Vendée. Had the Allies
made a concerted effort, the defeat of the Republican cause could
scarcely have failed to follow, but they quarrelled amongst themselves
instead of following up their advantage. They squandered their strength
by dividing their army into detachments, and much precious time was
wasted by the diversion on Dunkirk made by the English, Hanoverian,
Hessian, and some of the Austrian forces, about 37,000 strong.
The Revolutionary Government, augmenting its fighting body, instructed
General Houchard to attack the enemy before the historic seaport. As
a sequel to this movement the Duke of York was forced to retreat and
abandon forty guns and much of his baggage. Houchard’s triumph was
short-lived. He met with disaster at the hands of the Austrians, and
paid the price of failure with his head. With the Convention defeat
spelt death. Professing the Cause of Humanity, it refused to be
humanitarian.
By the middle of September all the important fortresses which blockaded
the way of the Allies to the Capital had fallen, with the exception
of Maubeuge. The victory of Jourdan, the successor of Houchard, over
the covering force at Wattignies saved the situation, and on the
17th October the French marched into Maubeuge. On the Upper Rhine
the Allies found themselves in possession of Metz only, at the end
of 1793. In the south-west of Europe the campaign made no further
progress, and the Republican cause gained fresh impetus by the crushing
of the royalist risings at Lyons and Toulon. It will be remembered
that Napoleon won his first laurels in helping to subjugate the great
arsenal in the south of France, and in forcing the withdrawal of the
British fleet under Hood which had gone to support the rebellious
inhabitants.
These facts, dry as dust though they may be, are essential to a correct
understanding of the part played by Wellington in the early days of the
Great War detailed in the following chapter.
CHAPTER II
Wellington’s Baptism of Fire
(1794-97)
“_I learnt what one ought not to do, and that is always something._”
WELLINGTON.
The pages of military romance teem with references to the disappointed
lover who seeks to assuage his sorrow by active service. In actual
life one doubts whether such things often happen, but it appears that
it was true of Arthur Wellesley. He asked his eldest brother to use
his influence with Pitt to persuade Lord Westmorland to send him “as
major to one of the flank corps,” his own regiment being “the last
for service.” The request was refused, and the young officer had to
wait until May 1794. Orders were then issued for the 33rd to proceed
on foreign service as part of a contingent under Lord Moira which was
urgently required to reinforce the Duke of York.
The Allies had not only experienced a series of defeats, but Prussia
had withdrawn many of her forces on the Rhine for service in Poland,
the dismemberment of which seemed to offer more tangible advantages
than the protracted warfare against “armed opinions.” As a member of
the Holy Roman Empire she had of necessity to supply 20,000 troops--a
mere handful--and she announced her intention of merely fulfilling
this obligation. Again British gold came to the rescue, and Prussia,
by a treaty signed on the 19th April 1794, agreed to keep 62,000 men
at the disposal of the Allies in return for a handsome subsidy. The
unfortunate Austrian general, Mack, was then given command of the new
campaign. The fatal mistake was repeated of dividing the army, with
the result that while the Imperialists under Clerfait were forced to
retreat on Tournay, the Duke of York, aided by Prince Schwartzenberg,
secured an advantage at Troisville. A series of actions around
Tourcoing followed on the 16th to the 18th May, during which his
Highness narrowly escaped being made a prisoner, owing partly to his
having been left isolated by the cutting off of his communications,
and partly to a praiseworthy determination to hold the positions his
troops had gained. At Pont-à-chin, near Tournay, the repeated attempts
of Pichegru to secure the village ended in disaster. On the 26th June
the Austrians, in their endeavour to relieve Charleroi, which had
surrendered to the growing forces of the French under Jourdan a few
hours before, were forced to retreat from the plains of Fleurus. “The
loss of Flanders,” says Alison, “immediately followed a contest which
an enterprizing general would have converted into the most decisive
triumph.” The Duke of York, having sustained a reverse at Oudenarde,
was also retreating, intent upon covering Antwerp and Holland.
Wellesley arrived at Ostend with his regiment in June 1794, from whence
he was sent to Antwerp, on which the Duke of York and the Prince of
Orange shortly afterwards fell back, while Moira marched to Malines.
The Colonel held that his senior officer would have been better advised
had he and his troops proceeded up the Scheldt or the Maes in boats, an
opinion subsequently confirmed by events.
After settling necessary matters Wellesley carried out his instructions
and reached the Duke of York several days before Moira was in touch
with him. It was a moral victory for the young officer, and doubtless
served the very useful purpose of stimulating his ambition.
For three months the Duke of York and the Prince of Orange remained
at Antwerp. The Commander of the Dutch troops then retired towards
the Rhine, and the former moved towards Holland. During the march
General Abercromby was told to secure the village of Boxtel, captured
on the previous evening by one of Pichegru’s divisions. A desperate
affray ensued, and notwithstanding the intrepid bravery of the British
infantry, cavalry, and artillery, it ended in disaster. It is extremely
probable that the entire force would have been annihilated but for
Wellesley’s promptitude in covering the retreat. No opposition was
offered until the British were passing through a wood, when a masked
battery opened fire. A little later there was considerable confusion,
and a body of French Hussars charged forward only to meet Wellesley’s
battalion drawn across the road. They were repulsed, thanks to the
valour of the young commander.
Throughout an extremely severe winter the British were continually
pressed by the ardent Republicans. From October to January 1795
Wellesley held a post on the Waal, and the arduous nature of his duties
is described by him in letters written at the time. “At present,” he
says on the 20th December 1794, “the French keep us in a perpetual
state of alarm; we turn out once, sometimes twice, every night; the
officers and men are harassed to death, and if we are not relieved,
I believe there will be very few of the latter remaining shortly. I
have not had the clothes off my back for a long time, and generally
spend the greatest part of the night upon the bank of the river,
notwithstanding which I have entirely got rid of that disorder which
was near killing me at the close of the summer campaign. Although
the French annoy us much at night, they are very entertaining during
the daytime; they are perpetually chattering with our officers and
soldiers,[4] and dance the _carmagnol_ upon the opposite bank whenever
we desire them; but occasionally the spectators on our side are
interrupted in the middle of a dance by a cannon ball from theirs.”
It is a genial, good-natured message, but Wellesley always held his
feelings well under control. In the above he chose to reveal the
humorous aspect of the long-drawn-out agony. There was plenty to
complain about had he desired. The food supply was deficient; the
wounded had to bear their agonies with the patience of Stoics, because
the stock of medicines ran short; and the general privation was
terrible. A pitiful lack of foresight characterised the whole campaign.
What could be expected of a Commander-in-Chief who gave preference to
the pleasures of the table if a dispatch arrived during a meal, and
contemptuously remarked, “That will keep till the morning”? During the
time of his sojourn on the Waal, Wellesley “only saw once one general
from the headquarters,[5] which was old Sir David Dundas.... We had
letters from England, and I declare that those letters told us more of
what was passing at headquarters than we learnt from the headquarters
ourselves.... It has always been a marvel to me how any of us escaped.”
That “old Sir David Dundas” thought very highly of the young officer’s
conduct is evident. When he succeeded as Commander-in-Chief of the
British forces, on the recall of the Duke of York in the following
December, Wellesley was appointed Brigadier and given command of the
rear guard. By a series of retreats the tattered army eventually
reached Bremen. It embarked for England early in 1795.
In summing up Wellesley’s first experience of field service, Earl
Roberts states that it was, “no doubt, extremely valuable to
Wellington in after years. It must have taught him that soldiers even
of the best quality, well drilled, disciplined and equipped, cannot
hope to be successful unless proper arrangements are made for their
supply and transport; and unless those who direct the operations have
formed some definite plan of action, and have sufficient zeal and
professional knowledge to carry it out. If the French generals had
taken full advantage of the opportunities which the incapacity of the
English and German commanders threw in their way, the British force
must have been annihilated.”
One is inclined to doubt whether the troops were “well drilled,
disciplined and equipped” at this period. The gross incompetence of
many of the highest officers is abundantly proved, and continued lack
of success speedily reduces the vital strength of any regiment.
As already noted, the commissariat was execrable. We have it on the
authority of one who was present that during the retreat hundreds of
invalids succumbed, “whilst the shameful neglect that then pervaded
the medical department, rendered the hospitals nothing better than
slaughter-houses for the wounded and the sick.”
[Illustration: “The full force of the blast”
Thomas Maybank]
Shortly after Wellesley reached England he decided to leave the Army.
The cause is unknown, but it seems highly probable that either his
recent experience had disgusted him with the service as constituted, or
he wished to obtain more remunerative employment so that he might be
in a position to marry the lady of his choice. He also owed money to
his brother, who had made advances for his promotion. This sum could
be repaid by the sale of his commission. Although Wellesley was always
scrupulous in money matters, the reason seems scarcely credible. We
are therefore forced to accept one of the other alternatives, perhaps
both, for mention is made of the miserable state of the Army in
his letter to Lord Camden[6] regarding the desired appointment. He
consulted Mornington on the matter, and it was decided that a position
under the Revenue or Treasury Boards would serve his purpose. “If your
Excellency,” he writes to the Viceroy, “is of opinion that the offices
at these boards are too high for me, of course you will say so; and
as I am convinced that no man is so bad a judge of a claim as he who
makes it, I trust you will not believe that I shall feel otherwise
towards you than as I have always felt, with sentiments of the greatest
regard.... You will probably be surprised at my desiring a civil
instead of a military office. It is certainly a departure from the line
which I prefer, but I see the manner in which the military offices are
filled, and I don’t want to ask you for that which I know you cannot
give me.”
Research has failed to discover what answer, if any, was vouchsafed
this communication. Wellesley remained in the Army. In October 1795
he and his regiment sailed from Southampton as part of an expedition
against the French settlements in the West Indies. The vessels
encountered a terrible gale, still known as “Christian’s Storm,” after
the name of the admiral who commanded the fleet. While it might be
untrue to say that the ships were in an unseaworthy condition, their
sanitary state was deplorable, for they had but recently returned from
a long voyage as hospital and prison transports. Scarcely forty-eight
hours after they had sailed, and when they were off Weymouth, the full
force of the blast struck them. One vessel foundered with all hands,
half-a-dozen or more were totally dismasted, and hundreds of soldiers
went to their death in a battle with the elements against which all the
drill in the world was ineffectual. Fortunately Wellesley escaped, but
when he received orders, in April 1796, to embark his men for India he
was too ill to accompany them. However, he set sail for Calcutta in
June, and overtaking the 33rd Regiment at the Cape of Good Hope, duly
reached his destination in February 1797. “The station is so highly
advantageous to him that I could not advise him to decline it,” says
Lord Mornington.[7] The good-natured Earl little knew what advantage,
both to Wellesley and the Empire, was to accrue as the result of the
failure of his brother’s civil ambitions.
CHAPTER III
The Campaign of Seringapatam
(1797-1800)
_India, “a country fertile in heroes and statesmen._”
CANNING.
The proverb to the effect that “History repeats itself” is not strictly
true. The further we study the subject, the more we find that like
causes do not necessarily bring about similar effects. The ill success
which attended the expedition to the West Indies, ere it left the
English Channel, has a fitting parallel so far as its practical utility
is concerned in the force placed at General St Leger’s disposal to
attack Manilla, the Philippine Islands then being in the possession of
Spain, with whom Great Britain was now at war. Fortunately it did not
meet with disaster, but neither expedition reached its destination.
Wellesley accepted the offer of Sir John Shore, the Governor-General
of India, to command a brigade, and the troops were embarked. They had
not proceeded farther than Penang before an order was issued for their
recall owing to troubles brewing in India itself.
Shortly after his return to Calcutta the Colonel was placed in command
of the forces in Madras. He also heard that his eldest brother
had been offered the extremely responsible and difficult post of
Governor-General in succession to Sir John Shore. It was now his turn
to feed the flames of Mornington’s ambition. He writes: “I strongly
advise you to come out. I am convinced that you will retain your
health; nay, it is possible that its general state may be improved,
and you will have the fairest opportunity of rendering material
service to the public and of doing yourself credit.” Mornington lacked
self-confidence, and a thousand and one doubts and fears possessed his
mind. The Colonel reminded him that if he refused so advantageous a
position on account of his young family, “you forego both for yourself
and them what will certainly be a material and lasting advantage.”
Mornington accepted, and arrived at Calcutta with his youngest brother,
Henry, as private secretary in the middle of May 1798. He speedily
found an antidote for home-sickness in endeavouring to unravel the
tangled skein of affairs in Mysore, where Tipú Sultan was intriguing
with the French Republic for assistance in attacking the possessions
of the East India Company in Southern India. The pugnacious character
of the son of Hyder Ali was typified by the tiger’s stripes on his
flag. He possessed the fanaticism and barbarity of the Oriental at his
worst, and when opportunity occurred would feed a beast of prey with an
English prisoner.
[Illustration: WELLINGTON’S CAMPAIGN IN INDIA.]
To secure either the friendship or the neutrality of the Nizám,
whose territory abutted that of the bloodthirsty Tipú, now became of
paramount importance. His army was officered by Frenchmen, which was
proof positive that in the event of war it would assist Britain’s
enemy, although the Nizám had a distinct leaning towards the English.
As it happened, the native troops mutinied against their officers,
and, seizing his opportunity, the Nizám dismissed them. They were sent
to England as prisoners, and subsequently allowed to return to their
own country, a most humane consideration, for which Mornington was
largely responsible. The military positions they formerly occupied
were promptly filled by our own officers. A new treaty was made to
preclude the Marhattás from allying themselves with Tipú, and a force
of 6000 British troops was maintained by the Nizám at Hyderabad.
Meanwhile Wellesley had proceeded with his regiment to Madras, and,
owing to the death of the senior officer, was placed in temporary
command of the troops. In communication with Lord Clive, the Governor
of the Presidency, and General Harris, the Commander-in-Chief, he
busied himself with the multitudinous arrangements necessary for
an advance upon Seringapatam, the capital of the Mysore Dominions.
Horses, bullocks, and elephants had to be provided for the purpose of
transport; forts equipped and provisioned; the siege train properly
organized. He drew up a plan of campaign, and bent himself to the task
with exacting energy. Notwithstanding the preparations for war, he
still hoped that a resort to arms would prove unnecessary. Those who
are apt to think that all military men delight in strife for the mere
love of it will do well to remember this fact and judge less harshly,
for Wellington is the typical representative of the British Army. But
he believed in being ready, and hated nothing so much as “muddling
through.”
There was still a possibility, though scarcely a probability, that Tipú
would repent. He had received word that Napoleon, then on his famous
Egyptian expedition, was coming to his aid with an “invincible army.”
So far he had refused a definite statement of policy. Not until it was
abundantly evident that the protracted negotiations of the Sultan of
Mysore with the Government were merely to gain time, was a declaration
of war issued on the 22nd February 1799. According to Wellesley,
General Harris “expressed his approbation of what I had done, and
adopted as his own all the orders and regulations I had made, and then
said that he should mention his approbation publicly, only that he was
afraid others would be displeased and jealous. Now as there is nothing
to be got in the army except credit, and as it is not always that the
best intentions and endeavours to serve the public succeed, it is hard
that when they do succeed they should not receive the approbation which
it is acknowledged by all they deserve. I was much hurt about it at the
time, but I don’t care now, and shall certainly do everything to serve
General Harris, and to support his name and authority.”
Wellesley never feared to speak his mind, as his voluminous dispatches
abundantly testify. In a letter to Mornington he admits that he had
“lectured” the Commander-in-Chief because he allowed the Madras
Military Board too much license in the matter of appointments. On the
other hand, he had “urged publicly to the army (in which I flatter
myself I have some influence) the necessity of supporting him, whether
he be right or wrong.” In his opinion it was “impossible” to hold the
General “too high, if he is to be the head of the army in the field.”
Harris certainly compensated Wellesley to some extent by placing him
in command of thirteen regiments, including the Nizám’s contingent,
with the rank of brigadier. The strength of this force was about 16,000
men, that of the whole army 35,000, excluding 120,000 camp followers,
the bugbear of the old-time commander. The Bombay corps under General
Stuart attacked a portion of the enemy, commanded by the wily Tipú, in
the vicinity of Sedasser, on the 6th March. This success augured well,
for the Sultan was forced to retire.
Harris’s first serious engagement took place near Malavelly on the
27th, Wellesley advancing to the attack and turning Tipú’s right flank.
After an engagement lasting three hours the enemy withdrew, with the
loss of some 2000 men by death or wounds against the British 7 killed
and 53 wounded. Tipú was a skilful soldier, and had not neglected to
throw up a line of entrenchments before Seringapatam, into which city
he now withdrew. To drive in the advanced outposts before definitely
besieging the place was Harris’s first object. This duty was intrusted
to Wellesley and Colonel Shaw respectively, each having charge of a
detachment. It was the task of the former to carry a tope, or thicket,
and a village called Sultanpettah. He failed, for reasons explained in
the following letter:
“On the night of the 5th, we made an attack on the enemy’s outposts,
which, at least on my side, was not quite so successful as could have
been wished. The fact is, that the night was very dark, that the
enemy expected us, and were strongly posted in an almost impenetrable
jungle. We lost an officer, killed, and nine men of the 33rd wounded,
and at last, as I could not find out the post which it was desirable
I should occupy, I was obliged to desist from the attack, the enemy
also having retired from the post. In the morning they re-occupied it,
and we attacked it again at day-light, and carried it with ease and
with little loss. I got a slight touch on the knee, from which I have
felt no inconvenience, and I have come to the determination never to
suffer an attack to be made by night upon an enemy who was prepared
and strongly posted, and whose posts had not been reconnoitred by
daylight.” It should be added that twelve soldiers were taken prisoner
and executed by the brutal method of nails being driven through their
heads, and that Wellesley had previously given it as his opinion that
the projected attack on the thicket would be a mistake. The operation
undertaken by Colonel Shaw was successful.
The siege now proceeded in earnest, but a breach was not made in the
solid walls surrounding Seringapatam for three days. On the 4th May the
place was stormed by General Baird. General Sherbrooke’s right column
was the first to ford the Cauvery River. His men speedily scaled the
ramparts, and engaged that part of the Sultan’s 22,000 troops stationed
in the immediate vicinity. The defenders fought with the fatalistic
energy and determination so characteristic of the natives of India. The
left column followed, but found the way more difficult. Tipú, mounting
the ramparts, fired at the oncoming red-coats with muskets handed to
him by his attendants. It was his last battle; his body was afterwards
discovered in a covered gateway, together with hundreds of others.
Wellesley, with his corps, occupied the trenches as a first reserve.
“About a quarter past one p.m.,” says an eye-witness, “as we were
anxiously peering, telescope in hand, at the ford, and the intermediate
ground between our batteries and the breach, a sharp and sudden
discharge of musquetry and rockets, along the western face of the
fort, announced to us that General Baird and the column of assault
were crossing the ford; and immediately afterwards, we perceived our
soldiers, in rather loose array, rushing towards the breach. The
moment was one of agony; and we continued, with aching eyes, to watch
the result, until, after a short and appalling interval, we saw the
acclivity of the breach covered with a cloud of crimson,--and in a
very few minutes afterwards, observing the files passing rapidly to
the right and left at the summit of the breach, I could not help
exclaiming, ‘Thank God! the business is done.’
“The firing continued in different parts of the place until about two
o’clock, or a little afterwards; when, the whole of the works being
in the possession of our troops, and the St George’s ensign floating
proudly from the flagstaff of the southern cavalier, announced to us
that the triumph was completed.”
On the 5th, Wellesley took over the command from Baird, who had
requested temporary leave of absence, and without delay began to
restore some kind of order among the British troops, whose one object
after victory was plunder, in which matter they showed little delicacy
of feeling. The city was on fire in several places, but the flames
were all extinguished within twenty-four hours, and the inhabitants
were “retiring to their homes fast.” Having stopped, “by hanging,
flogging, etc.,” the insubordination of the troops and the rifling of
the dead by the camp followers who had flocked in, Wellesley proceeded
to bury those who had fallen.
During the four weeks of the siege the British lost 22 officers and
310 men, and no fewer than 45 officers and 1164 men were reported as
wounded and missing.[8] The Commander mentions that jewels of the
greatest value, and bars of gold, were obtained. As the prize agents
assessed the treasure taken at £1,143,216, the wealth of Seringapatam
must have been astounding. Wellesley’s share came to about £4000.[9]
Hundreds of animals were required to carry the rich stuffs, plate,
and richly-bound books from this city of opulence. A little humorous
relief to so much sordidness is afforded by Wellesley’s difficulties
regarding some of the late Sultan’s pets. “There are some tigers here,”
he writes, “which I wish Meer Allum would send for, or else I must give
orders to have them shot, as there is no food for them, and nobody to
attend to them, and they are getting violent.” Tipú’s 650 wives gave
less trouble than the wild beasts. They were removed to a remote region
and set at liberty.
Wellesley’s next appointment was as Commander of the Forces in Mysore.
He proved himself to be particularly well fitted for the post, which
obviously required a man of infinite tact, who could be lenient or
severe as circumstances demanded. It was Wellesley’s testing-time, and
he did not fail either in administration or the rough and tumble of
the “little war” so soon to fall to his lot. He had already served on
a commission appointed to go into the question of the partition of the
conquered Dominions, a small part of which was made over to the Peshwá,
and larger shares to the Nizám and the East India Company respectively.
The dynasty overturned by Tipú’s father was restored. As the new
Rájá of Mysore was only five years of age, he was scarcely able to
appreciate the fact that his territory was so greatly diminished.
We now come to a story worthy of a place in the Arabian Nights. It
concerns an adventurer who, later, assumed the truly regal title of
King of the World. Dhoondia Waugh, to give him the name by which those
who were unfortunate enough to make his acquaintance first knew him,
was the chief of a band of robbers whom Tipú had captured and thrown
into prison. Recognizing in him a brave man, the Sultan remitted the
sentence of death and gave him a military appointment, thus turning his
acknowledged abilities into a less questionable channel, for a thief
must needs be fearless and daring if he is to succeed. For some reason
not altogether clear, Dhoondia Waugh was again imprisoned, and he did
not regain his liberty until the fall of Seringapatam, when he was
liberated, together with a number of other gaol-birds. The old thieving
instinct reasserted itself, and as he encountered no difficulty in
collecting a band of the late Tipú’s cavalry, he speedily resorted to
means and measures which alarmed the inhabitants of every place he
visited. When pressed by the troops sent after them the horde took
refuge in the territory of the Peshwá, the nominal head of the Marhattá
confederacy. There they received anything but a cordial welcome,
although it seems probable that reinforcements were obtained among
the malcontents. However that may be, Dhoondia Waugh duly appeared
near Savanore. Having the safety of the Mysore Dominions very much at
heart, for he had supreme civil and military control, Wellesley started
in pursuit of the freebooter. Several fortresses held by Dhoondia’s
unlawful bands were stormed, his baggage taken, and a number of guns
captured.
An affray which took place near the Malpurda River at the end of
July 1800, not only reduced the chief’s forces, but caused many of
his followers to forsake the cause, although their strength in the
following September was considerably more than that at Wellesley’s
command; in actual figures, some 5000 against 1200. The operation on
the 10th of that month, which proved decisive, was extremely difficult,
for the enemy was strongly posted at a village called Conahgull. The
Colonel charged with such cool daring and so determined a front, that
after having stood firm for some time the enemy made off, closely
pursued for many miles by the British cavalry. A dire and just
retribution was exacted; those who were not killed “were scattered in
small parties over the face of the country.” The King of the World had
fought his last battle. He was found among the slain.
It is frequently asserted that Wellesley held but a low opinion of
the troops which he commanded, and he certainly passed harsh judgment
on those who shared his later campaigns. Not so in this particular
instance, however. In the dispatch detailing “the complete defeat and
dispersion” of the forces of Dhoondia, he expressly remarks on the
“determined valour and discipline” of the soldiers, the patience and
perseverance displayed in “a series of fatiguing services,” and the
excellent organization of the commissariat department.
Wellesley also showed that a kind heart is not necessarily the
attribute of a weak nature. With a humanity entirely worthy so great
a man, he had Dhoondia’s “supposed or adopted son” cared for, and
afterwards placed £400 in the hands of trustees for his future
use.[10] “Had you and your regicide army been out of the way,” writes
Sir Thomas Munro to Wellesley, “Dhoondia would undoubtedly have become
an independent and powerful prince, and the founder of a new dynasty of
cruel and treacherous Sultauns.”
This short campaign likewise furnishes us with one of the secrets of
the success of our national military hero. Just before he set out on
the long chase after the King of the World, he was offered a position
particularly rich in prospects, namely, the military command of an
expedition for the surrender of the Dutch island of Batavia. The sole
condition was that Lord Clive, the Governor of Madras, to whom he was
responsible, could spare him. A man who was moved by purely personal
ambition would have had no hesitation in bringing all his influence to
bear on the Governor in order to secure so good an opening. Wellesley,
however, recognizing that he had already begun preparations for the
running to earth of the bloodthirsty and cruel Dhoondia--an end much
to be desired--asked Clive to accept or decline for him as he thought
best. He neither pleaded for nor against, although he hoped that if
Admiral Rainier were not starting at once he might be able to join him
when the work on hand was finished. “I am determined that nothing shall
induce me to desire to quit this country, until its tranquillity is
ensured. The general want of troops, however, at the present moment,
and the season, may induce the Admiral to be desirous to postpone the
expedition till late in the year. In that case it may be convenient
that I should accompany him....”
The Governor of Madras refused his permission, and there the matter
ended. Months afterwards, when there seemed a probability of operations
in the Marhattá Territory, Wellesley wrote a lengthy Memorandum on
the means of carrying such a campaign to a successful issue. “The
experience,” he notes in his opening remarks, “which has been acquired
in the late contest with Dhoondia Waugh, of the seasons, the nature of
the country, its roads, its produce, and its means of defence, will be
of use in pointing them out.”
Thus it will be seen that the knowledge gained by Wellesley during
the performance of an individual duty was stored up for future use. A
march or a campaign was not simply carried out and then dismissed. It
was a lesson learned and to be remembered. In military matters he was
to a very appreciable extent self-taught. No drill-book in existence
can furnish skill or assure victory, and genius itself is valueless
on the battle-field without a clear perception based on things
ascertained--“the experience which has been acquired” referred to in
the above communication. Napoleon, against whom Wellesley was to fight
in the years to come, early recognized the supreme importance of this
principle. “The adroit man,” he says, “profits by everything, neglects
nothing which can increase his chances.”
The “Sepoy General” was such a man.
CHAPTER IV
War with the Marhattás
(1801-3)
“_We must get the upper hand, and if once we have that, we shall
keep it with ease, and shall certainly succeed._”
WELLINGTON.
That disappointments are frequently blessings in disguise had already
been proved by Arthur Wellesley. Unfortunately, it is easier to forget
such a precept than to practise it, and each apparent failure to climb
another rung of ambition’s ladder is apt to be regarded as a definite
set back. It was so with Wellesley, and a time of trial and perplexity
followed the campaign of Seringapatam and the defeat of Dhoondia.
He eventually weathered the storm of depression which pressed upon him,
as he weathered many another, but it must be admitted that he bent
before it. It came about in this way. The French army in Egypt was
still very active, although Napoleon had long since left it. He was
now First Consul, and gradually preparing himself and the nation for
the assumption of the Imperial crown. The Governor-General, henceforth
to be known as Marquis Wellesley,[11] was of opinion that a small
expedition should be sent either to Batavia or the Mauritius, or to
assist Sir Ralph Abercromby in his attempt to drive the French out of
Egypt.
With one of these desirable objects in view his brother Arthur was
given 5000 troops. He at once set off for Trincomalee, in the island
of Ceylon, the headquarters of the little army, intent on personally
superintending the arrangements. Shortly afterwards instructions came
to hand from the Home Government that 3000 men were to be sent to
Egypt. Colonel Wellesley was informed of this decision, and determined
to lose no time in forwarding the project. Without receiving official
word to do so, and still believing he held the premier post, he
embarked the men and sailed for Bombay, where he had ordered an ample
supply of provisions to be ready.
When off Cape Comorin, Wellesley received a letter from his brother,
stating that he had appointed Major-General Baird to the command of the
troops destined for the island of Batavia, which made it clear that the
Governor-General had not then received the dispatches of the Secretary
of State. Knowing that some at least of the troops on the transports
would be required for Egypt, he proceeded on his way, and wrote to
Baird of his intention. A little later a further letter came to hand
from another source; but the fleet was in want of water, some of the
troops had died, and “I was induced to adhere to my original plan.”
Baird, who, on arriving at Trincomalee, found “the cupboard was
bare,” was deeply incensed at Wellesley’s high-handed behaviour. The
“culprit’s” feelings as to the Governor-General’s new appointment were
also far from pacific. That he acted in perfect good faith is evident
from the preceding, which is borne out in a lengthy dispatch in which
he sought to justify his action in the eyes of his brother.
“I have not been guilty of robbery or murder,” he writes to Henry
Wellesley from Bombay on the 23rd March 1801, “and he has certainly
changed his mind; but the world, which is always good-natured towards
those whose affairs do not exactly prosper, will not, or rather does
not, fail to suspect that both, or worse, have been the occasion of my
being banished, like General Kray, to my estate in Hungary.[12] I did
not look, and did not wish, for the appointment which was given to me;
and I say that it would probably have been more proper to give it to
somebody else; but when it was given to me, and a circular written to
the governments upon the subject, it would have been fair to allow me
to hold it till I did something to deserve to lose it.
“I put private considerations out of the question, as they ought and
have had no weight in causing either my original appointment or my
supercession. I am not quite satisfied with the manner in which I have
been treated by Government upon the occasion. However, I have lost
neither my health, spirits, nor temper in consequence thereof. But it
is useless to write any more upon a subject of which I wish to retain
no remembrance whatever.”
Baird would have been scarcely human had he not felt hurt by finding
himself head of a force which had disappeared, especially as the
Colonel had already superseded him as Governor of Seringapatam. But
he forgave, if he did not forget, and so did Wellesley. Some thirty
years afterwards, when Baird’s days of active soldiering were over, he
remarked, during the course of a chat with Sir John Malcolm, who had
himself done good service in India: “Time’s are changed. No one knows
so well as you how severely I felt the preference given on several
occasions to your friend Wellesley, but now I see all these things from
a far different point of view. It is the highest pride of my life that
anybody should ever have dreamed of my being put in the balance with
him. His name is now to me joy, and I may almost say glory.”
It is satisfactory to know that Arthur Wellesley was not foolish enough
to allow the iron to enter into his soul to such an extent as to
prevent him from co-operating with Baird, into whose hands he placed a
“Memorandum on the Operations in the Red Sea,” accompanied by a letter
acknowledging “the kind, candid, and handsome manner in which you have
behaved towards me.” When the expedition was ready, Arthur Wellesley
was laid low with a fever, consequently the Commander-in-Chief
was obliged to sail without his lieutenant, not altogether to his
discomfiture one would surmise.
An attack of the dreaded Malabar itch did not tend to a speedy recovery
of the invalid, but he was sufficiently well in May 1801 to resume his
former duties at Seringapatam, where he had been reinstated by his
brother. By living moderately, drinking little or no wine, avoiding
much medicine, taking exercise, and keeping his mind employed, he
eventually recovered. As Baird saw no fighting, his rival lost nothing
by remaining in India.
Sir Herbert Maxwell[13] assumes that Arthur Wellesley’s fever
was caused by disappointment, but as the latter expressly states
that Baird’s “conduct towards me has by no means occasioned this
determination (namely, to resign the appointment), but that it has
been perfectly satisfactory,”[14] the statement is obviously based on
a surmise that the Colonel was diplomatically lying. Everybody fully
appreciates the influence of mind over matter, and thwarted desire may
have weakened Wellesley’s health, but surely the facts of the case
scarcely justify so definite an assertion.
Colonel Wellesley remained in Mysore for nearly two years, during
which he did his work both wisely and well, showing favour to none and
justice to all. It was in February 1803 that the future Wellington,
now a Major-General, received news that he was required for active
service against the Marhattás. The war-like intentions of this powerful
confederacy, which alone could challenge British supremacy, had not
escaped the notice of Government. The nominal head of the five native
princes who constituted it was Baji Rao, the Peshwá of Poona, the
others being Daulat Rao, Sindhia of Gwalior; Jeswant Rao, Holkar of
Indore; the Gaikwár of Baroda, and the Bhonsla Rájá of Berar. Sindhia
was the most powerful, and possessed a fine army drilled by French
officers and commanded by Perron, a deserter from the French Marine.
Holkar had at his disposal no fewer than 80,000 splendidly-equipped
men, mostly cavalry, likewise organized by European soldiers. Intense
rivalry existed between these princes, and when, in October 1802, the
latter invaded Poona, the armies of Sindhia and the Peshwá met with
disaster. The Peshwá sought refuge with the British, and forthwith
entered into an offensive and defensive alliance with Lord Wellesley
as the only means of saving his territory. The chief clauses were that
6000 British troops should be kept at Poona, the expense being met by
the assignment to the East India Company of certain territory; that the
Peshwá would not make war with the other princes or allow them to prey
on each other without the consent of Government; and that he should be
reinstated in his capital. This arrangement, known as the Subsidiary
Treaty of Bassein, soon had the effect of drawing together the
remaining members of the Marhattá confederacy, cementing a friendship
between Sindhia and Holkar, and an alliance between Sindhia and the
Bhonsla Rájá. It is clear that the continued acknowledgment of the
Peshwá as head of the confederacy, now that he was under the ægis of
the British, would have been to admit the supremacy of the conquering
Power they so much resented. Lord Wellesley had already signed a
defensive alliance with the Gaikwár of Baroda, and in order to be ready
for eventualities, men from the armies of the three Presidencies,
namely, Madras, Bombay, and Calcutta, were concentrated at various
points, the first for operation on the north-west frontier of Mysore,
the second for action about Surat and Broach, and the third for the
occupation of Cuttack. A large force was also ordered to assemble at
Cawnpore under General Lake, the Commander-in-Chief in India, while
three corps were held in reserve. Major-General Wellesley was placed in
command of a detachment of some 10,600 troops, to which must be added
the Nizám’s contingent of 8400 men under Colonel Stevenson, making
19,000 in all. His orders were to secure Poona, now held by a small
garrison of Holkar’s soldiers totalling not more than 1500. He was
already on the march when he heard of the intention of the Governor,
acting on Holkar’s instructions, to burn the town on the approach of
the British.
“We were within forty miles of the place”--Wellesley himself tells
the story[15]--“when this resolution of Holkar’s lieutenant was
communicated to me. My troops had marched twenty miles that day under
a burning sun, and the infantry could no more have gone five miles
farther than they would have flown. The cavalry, though not fresh,
were less knocked up, so I got together 400 of the best mounted among
them, and set off. We started after dark on the night of the 19th of
April, and in the afternoon of the 20th we got close to the place.
There was an awful uproar, and I expected to see the flames burst out,
but nothing of the kind occurred. Amrut Rao--that was the Marhattá’s
name--was too frightened to think of anything except providing for his
own safety, and I had the satisfaction of finding, when I rode into the
town, that he had gone off with his garrison by one gate as we went in
by another. We were too tired to follow, had it been worth while to do
so, which it was not. Poona was safe, and that was all I cared for.”
In the following month the Peshwá returned to his capital.
Sindhia and the Rájá of Berar now busied themselves with gathering a
large army at Burhanpur, ready to threaten the Deccan, Holkar retiring
to Indore. Wellesley was no less active at Poona; his experience in
Holland had taught him the all-important lesson that an efficient
organization is a powerful ally. In addition, he was busy endeavouring
to come to terms with Sindhia and the Rájá, for which purpose he had
been given chief command of the British forces in the Marhattá states,
with the fullest political authority. Similar powers were vested in
General Lake in Northern India. After wasting as much time as possible
in the negotiations so as to gain it for military preparations,
Wellesley anticipated the inevitable. “I offered you peace on terms
of equality,” he writes on the 6th August 1803, “and honourable
to all parties: you have chosen war, and are responsible for all
consequences.” On the following day hostilities were declared against
Sindhia and the Rájá of Berar.
The stone-built fortress of Ahmednuggur, the capture of which would
safeguard his communications with Poona and Bombay and prevent
reinforcements from Southern India reaching the enemy, was his first
object of attack. The main body of Sindhia’s men was threatening
Hyderabad, but the place was well garrisoned and so solidly constructed
that it looked as though it would defy whatever artillery could be
brought to bear on it. Wellesley said that with the exception of
Vellore, in the Carnatic, it was the strongest country fort he had
ever seen. However, he began operations against the outworks on the
8th, after having made proposals for its surrender without favourable
result. “The Arabs,” we are told, “defended their posts with the
utmost obstinacy,” but towards evening were forced to quit the wall.
On the following day the ground in the neighbourhood of the fort was
reconnoitred and a commanding position seized, on which a battery
of four guns was constructed for use during the attack. The first
shots were fired on the 10th at dawn, and the storming party speedily
began its work. Three times an officer ascended a scaling ladder
propped against one of the walls, and thrice he was hurled down by the
defenders. The fourth attempt was successful, and, followed by some of
his men, the gallant soldier literally hewed a way into the town. The
remaining troops, pressing on, took the place of those who fell. At
length the Commander of the enemy’s forces surrendered, “on condition
that he should be allowed to depart with his garrison, and that he
should have his private property.” His fourteen hundred men marched out
of the fort, and Wellesley’s troops took possession.
[Illustration: “He was hurled down by the defenders”
Thomas Maybank]
On the 23rd September the General found himself and his small
contingent of some 8000 soldiers face to face with the whole combined
army of Sindhia and the Rájá of Berar, a state of affairs brought
about by unreliable information, causing the separation of Wellesley
and Stevenson. At least 50,000 of the enemy were posted in a strong
position behind the river Kaitna, near the village of Assaye. As
Wellesley had received no reinforcements, and had only 17 guns compared
with 128 commanded by skilful French officers at the disposal of the
Marhattás, the disproportion of the forces was sufficiently obvious.
To a general less experienced or daring the situation would have been
considered sufficient cause for an instant retreat; even he called
the attack “desperate.” The problem for him to settle was, should he
wait a few hours for Stevenson, or begin immediately with the scanty
resources at his disposal? Although only 1500 of his men were British,
the Commander-in-Chief decided on the latter alternative, ignoring the
information vouchsafed by his guides that the river was absolutely
impassable. Yet it was only by crossing the stream that he could take
advantage of the opportunity to attack. Here Wellesley’s native wit
and acute intelligence--he himself called it “common sense”--assisted
him. His telescope merely revealed a village on either side of the
stream. This fact suggested the probability of a neighbouring ford.
On investigation such proved to be the case, and if the passage was
difficult the General was at least fortunate in being able to carry
out the operation without severe molestation by the enemy, who had
foolishly neglected to guard this point. They repaired the omission so
far as was possible by firing upon the oncoming army as it slowly waded
across, but the losses were comparatively trivial. “All the business of
war,” Wellesley once told Croker, “and indeed all the business of life,
is to endeavour to find out what you don’t know by what you do.”
The battle began well by the routing of some of the infantry and
artillery by the Highlanders and Sepoys. This advantage was almost
immediately counterbalanced by the mistaken zeal of the officer
commanding the pickets, supported by the 74th Regiment. He foolishly
led his men against the village, thereby exposing them to the
concentrated fire of the enemy’s artillery and musketry stationed
there. Had he taken a less direct route, this could not have happened,
but his enthusiasm overruled his caution. Men dropped down like
ninepins in a skittle-alley when the ball is thrown by a skilful
player. They fell by the dozen as they came within the zone of fire.
Their comrades filled up the tell-tale gaps and continued to push
on with a dogged tenacity entirely worthy their intrepid commander.
Meanwhile what few British guns remained pounded away, and were
silenced one by one as the men who worked them fell dead at their post.
The enemy’s cavalry then proceeded to decimate the already sorely
depleted ranks of the 74th.
At this moment the 19th Light Dragoons, under Colonel Maxwell, were
hurled at Sindhia’s troops. The charge turned the fate of the day.
What remained of the 74th rallied under the support thus given, and
when Wellesley led the 78th into action the village fell. An attempt
was made by the enemy to rally, but it was too late. Men who, with true
Oriental cunning, had fallen as though killed in order to avoid the
oncoming British cavalry as they charged, and had escaped the iron-shod
hoofs of the horses, rejoined the ranks, only to find that the day
had been lost. The whole body was soon flying helter-skelter from the
blood-stained field towards Burrampur, abandoning artillery, baggage,
ammunition--everything that precluded swift movement. Twelve hundred of
the Marhattás breathed their last on this memorable day.
In fighting this battle--“the hardest-fought affair that ever took
place in India”--o’er again in the twilight of his days, the Duke
of Wellington made light of the indiscretions of the officers at
Assaye and remembered only their bravery. “I lost an enormous number
of men: 170 officers were killed and wounded, and upwards of 2000
non-commissioned officers and privates;[16] but we carried all before
us. We took their guns, which were in the first line, and were fired
upon by the gunners afterwards, who threw themselves down, pretending
to be dead, and then rose up again after our men had passed; but they
paid dearly for the freak. The 19th cut them to pieces. Sindhia’s
infantry behaved admirably. They were in support of his cannon, and we
drove them off at the point of the bayonet. We pursued them as long as
daylight lasted and the exhausted state of the men and horses would
allow; and slept on the field.”[17]
Wellesley himself, although not wounded, lost two horses. An
eye-witness has recorded that he had never seen “a man so cool and
collected as he was the whole time.” Stevenson arrived on the
following evening, and set out almost immediately to follow the enemy,
Wellesley being forced to remain owing to his lack of transport for the
wounded, whom he refused to leave. The Colonel seconded Wellesley’s
magnificent victory by reducing the fortress of Burrampur on the
16th October, and that of Asseerghur on the 21st. Wellesley covered
Stevenson’s operations and defended the territories of the Nizám and
the Peshwá. “I have been like a man who fights with one hand and
defends himself with the other,” he notes on the 26th October. “I have
made some terrible marches, but I have been remarkably fortunate:
first, in stopping the enemy when they intended to press to the
southward, through the Casserbarry ghaut; and afterwards, by a rapid
march to the northward, in stopping Sindhia, when he was moving to
interrupt Colonel Stevenson’s operations against Asseerghur; in which
he would otherwise have undoubtedly succeeded.”
CHAPTER V
Last Years in India
(1803-5)
“_Time is everything in military operations._”
WELLINGTON.
Bhonsla Rájá now became the immediate object of Wellesley’s attention.
While proceeding in quest of him the General received envoys from
Sindhia requesting an armistice. This was granted on the 23rd November
1803, the principal condition imposed by Wellesley being that the
enemy’s army should retire forty miles east of Ellichpúr. This clause
was not fulfilled, the cavalry of the wily Sindhia encamping at
Sersooly, some four miles from the position occupied by Manoo Bappoo,
brother of the Rájá, ready for immediate co-operation. Having again
united their divisions, Wellesley and Stevenson pushed towards them. “A
confused mass” about two miles beyond Sersooly proved to be the enemy’s
armies on the march. A little later the General made out “a long line
of infantry, cavalry, and artillery, regularly drawn up on the plains
of Argaum, immediately in front of that village.”
“Although late in the day,” says Wellesley in describing the events
of the 29th November, “I immediately determined to attack this army.
Accordingly, I marched on in one column, the British cavalry leading in
a direction nearly parallel to that of the enemy’s line; covering the
rear and left by the Mogul and Mysore cavalry. The enemy’s infantry and
guns were in the left of their centre, with a body of cavalry on their
left. Sindhia’s army, consisting of one very heavy body of cavalry,
was on the right, having upon its right a body of pindarries and other
light corps. Their line extended above five miles, having in their rear
the village and extensive gardens and enclosure of Argaum; and in their
front a plain, which, however, was much cut by watercourses, etc.
“I formed the army in two lines; the infantry in the first, the cavalry
in the second, and supporting the right; and the Mogul and Mysore
cavalry the left, nearly parallel to that of the enemy; with the right
rather advanced in order to press upon the enemy’s left. Some little
time elapsed before the lines could be formed, owing to a part of the
infantry of my division which led the column having got into some
confusion. When formed, the whole advanced in the greatest order; the
74th and 78th regiments were attacked by a large body (supposed to be
Persians), and all these were destroyed. Sindhia’s cavalry charged
the 1st battalion, 6th regiment, which was on the left of our line,
and were repulsed; and their whole line retired in disorder before
our troops, leaving in our hands 38 pieces of cannon and all their
ammunition.
“The British cavalry then pursued them for several miles, destroyed
great numbers, and took many elephants and camels and much baggage. The
Mogul and Mysore cavalry also pursued the fugitives, and did them great
mischief. Some of the latter are still following them; and I have sent
out this morning all of the Mysore, Mogul, and Marhattá cavalry, in
order to secure as many advantages from this victory as can be gained,
and complete the enemy’s confusion.... The troops conducted themselves
with their usual bravery....”
One of the bravest deeds performed during the battle of Argaum was
that of Lieutenant Langlands, of the 74th. Wounded in the fleshy
part of the leg by a spear, he promptly pulled out the weapon and
thrust it through the body of the Arab who had thrown it. A Sepoy who
witnessed this extraordinary display of self-possession, forgetting all
discipline, rushed from the ranks and patted the young officer on the
back, yelling in his native tongue, “Well done, sir; very well done!”
Wellesley next marched on the mountain fort of Gawilghur, strongly
garrisoned by the Rájá’s troops. This defence consisted of an outer and
inner fort, the former protected by strongly-built walls, and the whole
by ramparts and towers. Admittance was gained only by three gates, all
extremely difficult of access by an invading army owing to the roads
leading to them. That to the south, communicating with the inner fort,
was long and steep, and could only be negotiated on foot; the second
was exposed to the guns mounted on the west side and was extremely
narrow and scarped by rock; the third, or north gate, communicated with
the village. Wellesley chose the last as being the most practicable for
his purpose, although he did not blind his eyes to the fact that “the
difficulty and labour of moving ordnance and stores from Labada would
be very great.”
From the 7th December, when the corps under Wellesley and Stevenson
marched from Ellichpúr by different routes, till the 12th, “on which
Colonel Stevenson broke ground near Labada, the troops in his division
went through a series of laborious services, such as I never before
witnessed, with the utmost cheerfulness and perseverance. The heavy
ordnance and stores were dragged by hand over mountains, and through
ravines, for nearly the whole distance, by roads which it had been
previously necessary for the troops to make for themselves.”
On the night of the 12th, Stevenson erected two batteries in front of
the north face of the fort, and Wellesley one on the mountain, “under
the southern gate.” Although firing was begun on the following morning,
the breaches in the walls of the outer fort were not sufficiently
large for practical purposes until the 14th. Next day, while the
storming party was getting to work, Wellesley made two attacks from
the southward so as to draw the enemy’s fire upon himself as much as
possible. The north-west gate was carried, and a detachment entered
without difficulty. Captain Campbell, with the light infantry of the
94th, then succeeded in fixing ladders against the wall of the inner
fort. They “escaladed the wall, opened the gate for the storming party,
and the fort was shortly in our possession.” In a later communication
Wellesley mentions that he never knew a place taken by storm which
was so little plundered, “and it is but doing justice to the corps to
declare that in an hour after having stormed that large place, they
marched out with as much regularity as if they had been only passing
through it.”
Bhonsla Rájá had already sent his vakeel[18] to sue for peace. This
was granted by his ceding to the Company the province of Cuttack, with
the district of Balasore, and dismissing the European officers who
had played so important a part in the drilling of his army. Sindhia
also “began to be a little alarmed respecting his own situation,” and
shortly afterwards concluded hostilities, handing over all the country
between the Jumna and the Ganges, and several important fortresses.
These happenings did not relieve Wellesley from active service.
Several bands of freebooters, “the terror of the country,” consisting
mainly of fugitive soldiers from the defeated armies, were carrying
on lawless practices in the West Deccan. After crossing the Godavery,
he and some of his troops marched many weary miles along bad roads,
often at accelerated speed, in order to attack them, only to find
that the enemy had received intelligence of their approach, probably
from a traitor in Wellesley’s own ranks. With set purpose the General
continued to follow where the marauders led, and eventually broke up
the bands, securing the whole of their guns, ammunition, and baggage,
thus depriving them of their means of warfare: “they have lost every
thing which could enable them to subsist when collected.” Wellesley
afterwards asserted that his chase of the freebooters was the greatest
march he ever made.
Towards the end of May 1804 Wellesley received instructions from the
Governor-General to break up the army in the Deccan, the task of
running to earth Holkar, the sole remaining enemy of the confederacy,
being given to Lake. In the following month he relinquished his
command, and after a short visit to Calcutta returned to Seringapatam.
He had already requested that he might be allowed to leave India “when
circumstances will permit it,” and the Commander-in-Chief had given him
the necessary permission. He was dissatisfied because he had not been
promoted since he became Major-General, “and I think that there appears
a prospect of service in Europe, in which I should be more likely to
get forward.” In addition, he was suffering from rheumatism, “for which
living in a tent during another monsoon is not a very good remedy.” He
sailed for the Homeland on the 10th March 1805, after six years of hard
work, and still harder fighting, in the interests of British rule in
India.
The following contemporary pen-portrait of “the Sepoy General,”
sketched for us by Captain Sherer, will enable us to visualize him as
he appeared at this time:
“General Wellesley was a little above the middle height, well limbed,
and muscular; with little incumbrance of flesh beyond that which
gives shape and manliness to the outline of the figure; with a firm
tread, an erect carriage, a countenance strongly patrician, both in
feature, profile, and expression, and an appearance remarkable and
distinguished: few could approach him on any duty, or on any subject
requiring his serious attention, without being sensible of a something
strange and penetrating in his clear light eye. Nothing could be more
simple and straightforward than the matter of what he uttered; nor did
he ever in his life affect any peculiarity or pomp of manner, or rise
to any coarse, weak loudness in his tone of voice. It was not so that
he gave expression to excited feeling.”
To what extent did the Governor-General influence his brother’s career
in India? First of all we must understand the position of the Marquis
Wellesley. It was naturally one of tremendous power and responsibility.
The glamour attached to the post was sufficiently evident to the
general public. There it ended, for it was glitter rather than gold to
its holder. The Directors of the East India Company, ever on the side
of rigid economy and large dividends, expressly forbade the costly
system of conquest and annexation, yet this was necessarily the sheet
anchor of Wellesley’s policy, as former chapters have shown. When
pacific measures were tried and failed, it would have been disastrous
to continue them. As it usually took over three months[19] for a
communication from India to reach England, it follows that the same
period was necessary for a reply. The consequences of indecision on
the part of the Viceroy, of waiting for advice from home in matters
requiring urgency, were therefore fraught with dire peril. On the
other hand, if he showed too despotic tendencies he ran a grave risk
of incurring displeasure. Indeed, this is exactly what happened, for
Lord Wellesley was recalled in 1805 and censured by the Court of
Proprietors. When, after thirty years, it became evident that his
administration had been wise and not foolish, that he had carried
out what would have had to be done eventually to establish British
influence, the Directors relented and voted him a grant of £20,000.
Fortunately there was “a barrier state” in London between the
Governor-General and the Directors in the person of the President of
the Board of Control, the said Board consisting of Cabinet Ministers.
This position had been occupied since July 1802 by Lord Castlereagh,
who, on taking office, found that Wellesley had come to the conclusion
that resignation was better than humiliation. He did much to smooth
over the difficulties, and from that time until Wellesley’s return to
England Castlereagh loyally supported the Viceroy on every possible
occasion. For instance, when the reduction of the Indian establishment
to 10,000 troops was seriously mooted by the Directors and the Cabinet
at home, notwithstanding the threatening attitude of the Marhattá
confederacy, it was largely due to Castlereagh’s support of Lord
Wellesley’s demands that so absurd a policy was prevented.
The President of the Board of Control never interfered in the matter
of patronage, knowing full well that the Governor-General on the spot
was better able to recognize merit for the special requirements of the
service than a man thousands of miles away. This brings us back to our
proper subject.
We have noted how Lord Mornington discerned the opportunity awaiting
his brother in India, and how that brother reciprocated when the former
was diffident in the matter of accepting the chief official post there.
It is true that Wellesley was made Governor of Seringapatam over the
head of Baird, his senior officer, but whether this appointment was due
to the fact that Mornington influenced General Harris in the matter of
his choice is not sufficiently evident. There is a strong suspicion
that it was,[20] because Arthur Wellesley had only served as commander
of the reserve, whereas Baird was the leader of the assault, and as
such military tradition unquestionably favoured his appointment.
Again, in the matter of the Batavian expedition, the Governor-General
offered Wellesley the appointment as military commander: “The King
has given me the power of selecting the persons who are to conduct
this expedition; ... and a conscientious sense of duty induces me
to think that you are the most fit person to be selected for that
service, provided you can safely be spared from Mysore for the period
of the expedition....” In Mornington’s opinion, “the expedition will
be very advantageous to the naval and military commanders.” On the
other hand, we know that when the project was abandoned for a diversion
on the coasts of the Red Sea, he superseded his brother. One wonders
what would have happened when Wellesley set off for Bombay without
instructions, had he not been closely related to the Governor-General.
The Marquis certainly did not minimize Arthur’s successes to those at
home. Writing to Addington, then Speaker of the House of Commons, in
October 1800, he says, “My brother Arthur has distinguished himself
most brilliantly in an expedition against an insurgent, who had
collected a great force of predatory cavalry--the wreck of Tippú’s
army.” Three years later, when Addington was Prime Minister, he again
drew attention to his brother’s achievements, as follows:--
“My public duty will not permit me to be silent respecting
Major-General Wellesley. His march from Mysore to Poona, his able
conduct of the measures adopted for restoring the Peishwah, for
conciliating the feudatory Mahratta chiefs who maintained their
allegiance to the Peishwah, for preserving the dominions of the
Nizám, and our interests at Hyderabad, combined with his sieges of
Ahmednuggur, Burrampur, and Asseerghur, his glorious and splendid
victories at Assaye and on the plains of Argaum, with the entire ruin
of Sindhia’s French troops and powerful artillery in the Deccan,
must place the name of General Wellesley among the most bright and
distinguished characters that have adorned the military history of
the British power in India. He is now employed in reducing the main
fortress of Perar, and in negotiating, with the utmost judgment and
skill, the conditions of peace. I leave his merits to your justice, and
to the judgment of his King and country. The pride and honour of being
allied by the nearest ties of blood to such an officer cannot absolve
me from the obligations of my public station, as the representative
of the supreme civil and military authority in India; and I cannot,
therefore, omit this testimony to the merits of General Wellesley
without a positive violation of my duty.”[21]
Whatever may be thought of such glowing praise from a brother on the
score of good taste, it evidently achieved its purpose, for before he
left India, Arthur Wellesley was appointed an extra Knight Companion of
the Bath and received the thanks of the King and Parliament.
Earl Roberts,[22] in summing up this phase of the future Duke’s career,
remarks: “On his arrival in India he found himself in a country where
in almost every matter the power and influence of the Governor-General
were supreme, and the Governor-General being his brother, he was
quickly placed in a position of responsibility, which gave him the
opportunity of developing his talents as a soldier and statesman in
the best of all schools--the school of practice. It cannot be denied
that in early life Wellington owed much to family influence,[23] and
to a system of promotion which would now be stigmatized as jobbery.
On the other hand, he took full advantage of every chance that was
thrown in his way, and by his industry and capacity fully justified the
exceptional favour with which he was treated.”
With this conclusion the present writer heartily agrees; whatever Sir
Arthur gained from his relative’s assistance was amply repaid in his
achievements. British India owes much to the brothers Wellesley.
CHAPTER VI
Service in England, Ireland, and Denmark
(1805-7)
“_I am not afraid of responsibility, God knows, and I am ready to
incur any personal risk for the public service._”
WELLINGTON.
When, in 1803, the short-lived Peace of Amiens came to an end, and
Great Britain and France again resorted to the sword, Napoleon’s first
feat of arms was the conquest of Hanover. Thus, at the very beginning
of the second phase of the Great War, George III found himself not only
minus his hereditary continental possessions, but deprived of a very
useful base for those futile military excursions so beloved of the
British Government.
That His Majesty received the tidings of his loss “with great
magnanimity, and a real kingliness of mind,” may or may not be true.
His ministers asserted that such was the case; considerations of policy
would have precluded them from saying otherwise.
However this may be, two months after Sir Arthur Wellesley landed in
England, that is to say, in November 1805, he was given the command of
a brigade in an expedition to Hanover about to be undertaken by Lord
Cathcart. The object was to rout the comparatively few French troops
left to garrison the country, and to co-operate with Russian, Swedish,
and Danish troops in ridding Germany of the common enemy. The surrender
of Mack at Ulm, and Napoleon’s wonderful victory at Austerlitz,
although it followed within a few weeks of Nelson’s signal triumph at
Trafalgar,[24] completely shattered this desirable object, just as
the negotiations that followed put an end to the ambitious hopes of
the Third Coalition. The recall of the troops before they had been
able to carry out any of the objects of the diversion, beyond gaining
some thousands of adherents to the rank and file, therefore became
imperative, and was duly effected.
Sir Arthur Wellesley now spent a short time in command of his brigade
at Hastings, and he was gazetted colonel of the famous 33rd Regiment,
which post had become vacant on the death of the venerable Marquis
Cornwallis, his brother’s successor in India. The next important
event in his life, if not in his career, was his marriage to the Hon.
Catherine Pakenham, thus consummating a romance begun many years
before,[25] and his single ambition apart from the Army. The ceremony
was performed in Dublin on the 10th April 1806, the bridegroom being
nearly thirty-seven years of age. One wishes it were possible to add
that “they lived happy ever after.” Biography, the twin sister of
History, tells us that it was not so, and Gleig suggests that a broken
engagement with a second suitor, of which Wellesley was not informed
on his return from India, was partly the cause.[26] Two days after the
wedding Wellesley was elected Member of Parliament for Rye, his main
object in seeking political distinction being that he might defend
his brother’s administration in India, where his system of making
recalcitrant States subsidiary to England, whilst retaining their own
rulers, was the subject of an embittered attack. The “high crimes and
misdemeanours” alleged against Lord Wellesley were referred to from
time to time, but on the 17th March 1808, the following motion was
carried by 182 votes against 31: “That it appears to this House that
the Marquis Wellesley, in his arrangements in the province of Oude,
was actuated by an ardent zeal for the service of his country, and an
anxious desire to promote the safety, interests, and prosperity of the
British Empire in India.” This did not altogether end the unsavoury
affair, for another unsuccessful attempt to incriminate the statesman
was made some time later.
Sir Arthur was by this time Chief Secretary for Ireland, having
been appointed in the previous year. Once again we see two members
of this distinguished family holding prominent appointments, for
Henry Wellesley became one of the Secretaries to the Treasury in the
newly-appointed Portland ministry.
Barrington, whose acquaintance we have already made, relates an
interesting anecdote of the soldier at this time. He met Lord
Castlereagh, accompanied by a gentleman, in the Strand. “His lordship
stopped me,” he writes, “whereat I was rather surprised, as we had not
met for some time; he spoke very kindly, smiled, and asked if I had
forgotten my old friend, Sir Arthur Wellesley? whom I discovered in his
companion, but looking so sallow and wan, and with every mark of what
is called a worn-out man, that I was truly concerned at his appearance.
But he soon recovered his health and looks, and went as the Duke of
Richmond’s[27] secretary to Ireland, where he was in all material
traits still Sir Arthur Wellesley, but it was Sir Arthur Wellesley
judiciously improved. He had not forgotten his friends, nor did he
forget himself. He said that he had accepted the office of secretary
only on the terms that it should not impede or interfere with his
military pursuits; and what he said proved true....”
Obviously his duties in Ireland bear no comparison with those he so
successfully undertook in India, but following his own maxim, “to do
the business of the day in the day,” he got through a vast amount of
routine labour, frequently important, sometimes trivial. Under the
former head we must put his investigation of the military defences of
the island. It must not be forgotten that although the invasion of the
United Kingdom by Napoleon was no longer a standing menace, there was
always a likelihood of its resurrection, and Ireland was the danger
zone.
The Peace of Tilsit, signed between France and Russia on the 7th July
1807, and between France and Prussia on the 9th of the same month,
was a most serious blow to British interests. By a secret treaty the
Emperor Alexander undertook to aid Napoleon against England if that
Power refused to make peace within a certain period, to recognize the
equality of all nations at sea, and to hand back the conquests made by
her since 1805. As a bait--it really savoured of insult--Great Britain
was to be offered Hanover. Should she refuse these terms the Autocrats
of France and of Russia agreed to compel Denmark, Sweden, and Portugal
to join them in a vast naval confederacy against Great Britain, and
to close their ports against her. In addition, the reigning monarchs
of Spain and Portugal were to be deposed in favour of the Bonaparte
family. For his connivance in the matter Alexander was to be handsomely
compensated in the Ottoman Empire and by territorial acquisitions in
Western Europe.
Fortunately, or otherwise, according to the point of view, the British
Cabinet was put in possession of certain facts regarding these
plans. Canning, who was Minister for Foreign Affairs, realizing the
responsibilities of his unenviable position, as also of that of his
country, determined to forestall the plotters. He felt that some kind
of arrangement with Denmark was essential, especially as the Prince
Regent of Portugal had communicated news to the effect that Napoleon
purposed to invade England with the Portuguese and Danish fleets.
Canning suggested to Denmark that her fleet should be put in the safe
custody of England until peace was restored. In addition, he promised
a subsidy of £100,000, and the assistance of troops should Denmark be
attacked. Mr F. J. Jackson was sent to open negotiations; the Prince
Royal promptly vetoed them. “I stated plainly,” says Jackson, “that I
was ordered to demand the junction of the Danish fleet with that of
England, and that in case of refusal it was the determination of His
Majesty to enforce it.”
Lord Cathcart was put in command of an army of 27,000 troops, the
naval portion of the expedition being placed in the hands of Admiral
Gambier. No sooner had Sir Arthur Wellesley heard of the project than
he communicated with Castlereagh, then at the War Office and ever his
staunch supporter, for an opportunity to take part. He was given charge
of a division. On the 3rd August a formidable array of twenty-five
sail-of-the-line and over fifty gunboats and transports appeared off
Elsinore. Gambier and Cathcart were told by Jackson “that it now
rested with them to carry out the measure prescribed by the British
Government.” In a letter to his brother the diplomatist adds, “The
Danes must, I think, soon surrender, for they are without any hopes
of succour, are unfurnished with any effectual means of resistance,
and are almost in total want of the necessaries of life, as far as I
could learn or was able to see for myself during my few hours’ stay
there.[28] There were no droves of cattle or flocks of sheep; no
provisions of any sort being sent in the direction of the city. No
troops marching towards the town; no guns mounted on the ramparts; no
embrasures cut, in fact, no preparations of any sort. What the Danes
chiefly rely on is the defence by water. They brought out this morning
several _praams_[29] and floating batteries, and cut away one or two of
the buoys.
“The garrison of Copenhagen does not amount to more than four thousand
regular troops. The _landwehr_ is a mere rabble, as indeed all _levées
en masse_ must be.
“The people are said to be anxious to capitulate before a conflagration
takes place, which must happen soon after a bombardment begins, when,
not improbably, the fleet as well as the city will become a prey to the
flames.”
Jackson’s prophecy came true, but against his statement that the army
disembarked at Veldbeck “in grand style,” we must set that of Captain
Napier: “I never saw any fair in Ireland so confused as the landing;
had the enemy opposed us, the _remains_ of the army would have been on
their way to England.”[30] Wellesley’s first affray--it can scarcely
be termed a battle--took place at Roskilde. Like almost everything
connected with the expedition, Jackson has something to say about
it, and that “something” in this particular instance is anything but
complimentary. “Sir Arthur Wellesley,” he tells his wife, “has had an
affair which you will probably see blazoned forth in an extraordinary
_Gazette_. With about four thousand men he attacked a Danish corps of
armed peasantry, and killed and wounded about nine hundred men, besides
taking upwards of fifteen hundred prisoners, amongst whom were sixty
officers. One was a General officer. I spoke to him this morning,
for he and his officers are let off on their parole. The men are on
board prison ships, and miserable wretches they are, fit for nothing
but following the plough. They wear red and green striped woollen
jackets, and wooden _sabots_. Their long lank hair hangs over their
shoulders, and gives to their rugged features a wild expression. The
knowing ones say that after the first fire they threw away their arms,
hoping, without them, to escape the pursuit of our troops. In fact,
the _battle_ was not a very glorious one, but this you will keep for
yourself.”[31]
Wellesley himself afterwards referred to the event as “the little
battle at Kiöge,” and mentioned that “the Danes had made but a
poor resistance; indeed, I believe they were only new raised
men--militia.”[32]
The bombardment of Copenhagen began on the 2nd September 1807, and
concluded three days later, when an armistice was granted in order
that terms might be discussed. On the 7th, Copenhagen capitulated.
The conditions imposed by Sir Arthur Wellesley, Sir Home Popham, and
Lieutenant-Colonel Murray were that the British should occupy the
citadel and dockyards for six weeks, and take possession of the ships
and naval stores. Their troops would then evacuate Zealand. “I might
have carried our terms higher ... had not our troops been needed at
home,” Wellesley writes to Canning. The various clauses were carried
out, and fifteen sail-of-the-line, fifteen frigates, and thirty-one
smaller vessels of the Danish fleet, as well as 20,000 tons of naval
stores, were escorted to England. “That the attack was necessary,” says
a recent historian, “no one will now deny. England was fighting for her
existence; and, however disagreeable was the task of striking a weak
neutral, she risked her own safety if she left in Napoleon’s hand a
fleet of such proportions. In Count Vandal’s words, she ‘merely broke,
before he had seized it, the weapon which Napoleon had determined to
make his own.’”[33] Dr J. Holland Rose disapproves, and points out
that “In one respect our action was unpardonable: it was not the last
desperate effort of a long period of struggle: it came after a time of
selfish torpor fatal alike to our reputation and the interests of our
allies. After protesting their inability to help them, Ministers belied
their own words by the energy with which they acted against a small
State.”[34]
Canning’s hope for an alliance with Sweden, in order to keep open the
Baltic, was destined never to be fulfilled. Sir John Moore was sent to
assist Gustavus in his efforts to resist the attacks of Russia, but
the nation deserted the King, deposed him, and joined Napoleon. War
speedily broke out between Sweden and Denmark, and also between the
latter and Great Britain. The Czar’s overtures to England on behalf of
France, as arranged at Tilsit, came to nothing. He was not anxious for
them to have any other ending, so enraptured was he with Napoleon’s
grandiloquent schemes. Enraptured? Yes, but only for a few short years.
CHAPTER VII
The First Battles of the Peninsular War
(1808)
“_In war _men_ are nothing: it is a _man_ who is everything._”
NAPOLEON.
On his return from Copenhagen, Wellesley, never happy unless his mind
was fully occupied, resumed his duties as Chief Secretary for Ireland.
Special mention of the services he had rendered to his country was made
in the House of Commons, and there was some talk of a second period in
India, where affairs were far from settled. Before long, however, it
became increasingly evident that his knowledge and ability would be
required nearer home.
[Illustration: WELLINGTON’S PENINSULAR CAMPAIGNS.]
Portugal, our old ally, had been forced by Napoleon to declare war
against Great Britain on the 20th October 1807. Bent on pursuing
the rigid restrictions on trade imposed by his Continental System,
he had also peremptorily ordered the confiscation of the property
of the British merchants. Fortunately for those most concerned, the
Prince Regent remembered past friendship and may have discerned future
possibilities. He temporized, and this enabled many of the English
residents to settle their affairs and sail for home before the Dictator
could enforce obedience. The sequel was the overrunning of the
kingdom by French troops under the intrepid Junot, who met with no
resistance, and the desertion of their subjects by the Royal Family,
who sailed for Brazil.
Although this plan was carried out at the earnest request of the
British Government, as represented by Lord Strangford, the Ambassador
at the Portuguese Capital, it cannot be regarded as a pleasing example
of patriotism on the part of the House of Braganza.
In October 1807, Junot, in command of the French Army, and strengthened
by a few regiments of the Spanish corps placed at Napoleon’s disposal
for the dismemberment of the western portion of the Iberian Peninsula,
began his march on Lisbon. He concluded it on the 30th November with
only 1500 troops, the remainder following slowly by reason of the
terrible sufferings they had endured during a forced march made at
Napoleon’s urgent behest.
Here it should be mentioned that the presence of the Spanish troops
was due to the infamous Treaty of Fontainebleau, signed the previous
October. In this arrangement the Emperor had promised Godoy, the
real ruler of Spain and an intensely ambitious man, a large slice of
territory in the country about to be conquered in return for favours
rendered. It is more than probable that Napoleon never intended this
particular clause to be taken seriously by anyone but his dupe; the
gift was so much dust thrown in the eyes of the favourite for the
purpose of securing the entry of French troops into Spain.[35] In this
he was pre-eminently successful. Once in Lisbon Junot speedily removed
any fear of the national army by breaking up many of the regiments and
sending the remainder on service outside the kingdom. The flames of
rebellion were not yet kindled. So far so good.
Unhappily the chief prizes which the Emperor had hoped to secure at
Lisbon were beyond his reach. Even the squadron which was to have
seized the Portuguese and British shipping in the harbour was held in
check by the hated English.
Napoleon, pretending to be the friend of Spain, was in reality her
worst enemy. He merely used her as a useful tool to pick Portuguese
locks, and then pursued the same course with his friend’s lockers.
He began his unwelcome attentions by seizing the important frontier
fortresses of Pampeluna, Barcelona, San Sebastian, and Figueras, and
invading the country by a force which speedily numbered 116,000 men,
mostly conscripts, for he thought the country easy prey. Murat entered
Madrid as Junot had entered Lisbon. By the most unscrupulous methods,
namely, the enforced abdication of Charles IV and his son Ferdinand,
the Emperor secured the throne, permanently as he fondly imagined, for
his brother Joseph, King of Naples.
In July 1808 the eldest Bonaparte was proclaimed King, and entered his
capital. Within a month he found it desirable to retire behind the
Ebro; his subjects had not only broken into open revolt, but a French
army of over 17,000 troops under Dupont had been forced to capitulate
at Baylen, in Andalusia. Riots, assassinations, and massacres made it
evident that the Spanish temper was considerably more dangerous than
that of the Portuguese; it soon became obvious, moreover, that the
people had employed some of their time in organizing, on a necessarily
rough and ready principle, such forces as they possessed.
The inhabitants of the Asturias, in the north, were the first of the
provincials to apply the torch to the tinder of revolt, after a riot in
Madrid on the 2nd May 1808, and its Junta General called into being a
levy of 18,000 men to protect the principality. It sent two deputies to
England for assistance, which was readily given in money and military
stores. Other provinces likewise selected Juntas, and Galicia also
dispatched representatives to plead its cause in London. Galicia,
adjoining the Asturias on the west, lost little time in following the
warlike example of its neighbours, and the arsenals of Coruña and
Ferrol, made memorable by the Trafalgar campaign, threw in their lot
against Napoleon and contributed no fewer than thirty-two battalions of
regulars and militia to the general forces. Leon and Old Castile also
rose in rebellion, though with less energy. There were too many French
in the Basque Provinces and Navarre for much to be attempted there.
Coming still farther to the east, Catalonia sheltered 16,000 regulars
and many irregular levies, but Aragon, Valencia, and Murcia were very
weak. Andalusia, in the extreme south of the country, was almost as
fortunately placed with regard to troops as Galicia, and the remains of
the French fleet which had escaped Nelson and Collingwood were taken as
they rode in Cadiz harbour.
There was nothing approaching united action, provinces and towns often
vieing in more or less friendly rivalry. They did not understand, or
if they understood they did not realize, that patriotic cliques do
not make for strength. They fought for themselves rather than for the
nation as a whole. Throughout the struggle we find a lack of cohesion.
When we come to look at the earliest available statistics[36] of the
various Spanish armies which formed the front line, we find that their
total strength in regulars, militia battalions, and newly-raised corps
was 151,248. They were divided into five chief armies, namely, of
Galicia, Aragon, Estremadura, the Centre, and Catalonia, under Generals
Blake, Palafox, Galluzzo, Castaños, and Vives respectively. The troops
of the second line numbered about 65,000, and included the Army of
Granada, under Reding, the Army of Reserve of Madrid, commanded by San
Juan, the Galician, Asturian, Estremaduran, Andalusian, Murcian and
Valencian reserves, and the 3000 odd men in garrison in the Balearic
Isles.
The gross total of the French Army of Spain at this period dwarfs the
above figures for all their brave show; it reached 314,612. From this
must be deducted 32,643 detached troops and 37,844 in hospital or
missing, making the “effective” no fewer than 244,125. Of the eight
corps, Victor commanded the 1st, Bessières[37] the 2nd, Moncey the
3rd, Lefebvre the 4th, Mortier the 5th, Ney the 6th, St Cyr the 7th,
and Junot the 8th. There were also Reserve Cavalry and Infantry, the
Imperial Guard, troops marching from Germany, and National Guards
inside the French frontier.[38]
When we consider that on the 31st May 1808 Napoleon had only 116,000
men in Spain and that within six months he had found it necessary to
more than double that number, the desperate nature of the undertaking
becomes plain.
To enter fully into the doings of the various armies throughout the war
would deflect us far out of our proper course, but we shall hear of
them whenever Wellesley was involved.
If you would know the ferocious spirit of the patriots, the hate they
cherished for Napoleon and the French, you have only to turn to any one
of the many Memoirs of men who fought in the Peninsular War. Captain,
later Sir Harry, Smith, who was with Sir John Moore in 1808 and
remained with Wellesley until March 1814, gives many instances in his
vivacious “Autobiography,”[39] but the following must suffice. Smith’s
guide happened to be the owner of the house in which his wife and
baggage were quartered in the village of Offala:
“After I had dressed myself,” he relates, “he came to me and said,
‘When you dine, I have some capital wine, as much as you and your
servants like; but,’ he says, ‘come down and look at my cellar.’ The
fellow had been so civil, I did not like to refuse him. We descended by
a stone staircase, he carrying a light. He had upon his countenance a
most sinister expression. I saw something exceedingly excited him: his
look became fiend-like. He and I were alone, but such confidence had we
Englishmen in a Spaniard, and with the best reason, that I apprehended
no personal evil. Still his appearance was very singular. When we got
to the cellar-door, he opened it, and held the light so as to show
the cellar; when, in a voice of thunder, and with an expression of
demoniacal hatred and antipathy, pointing to the floor, he exclaimed,
‘There lie four of the devils who thought to subjugate Spain! I am a
Navarrese. I was born free from all foreign invasion, and this right
hand shall plunge this stiletto in my own heart as it did into theirs,
ere I and my countrymen are subjugated!’ brandishing his weapon like
a demon. I see the excited patriot as I write. Horror-struck as I
was, the instinct of self-preservation induced me to admire the deed
exceedingly, while my very frame quivered and my blood was frozen,
to see the noble science of war and the honour and chivalry of arms
reduced to the practices of midnight assassins. Upon the expression
of my admiration, he cooled, and while he was deliberately drawing
wine for my dinner, which, however strange it may be, I drank with
the gusto its flavour merited, I examined the four bodies. They were
Dragoons--four athletic, healthy-looking fellows. As we ascended, he
had perfectly recovered the equilibrium of his vivacity and naturally
good humour. I asked him how he, single-handed, had perpetrated this
deed on four armed men (for their swords were by their sides). ‘Oh,
easily enough. I pretended to love a Frenchman’ (or, in his words,
‘I was an Afrancesado’), ‘and I proposed, after giving them a good
dinner, we should drink to the extermination of the English.’ He then
looked at me and ground his teeth. ‘The French rascals, they little
guessed what I contemplated. Well, we got into the cellar, and drank
away until I made them so drunk, they fell, and my purpose was easily,
and as joyfully, effected.’ He again brandished his dagger, and said,
‘Thus die all enemies to Spain.’ Their horses were in his stable. When
the French Regiment marched off, he gave these to some guerrillas in
the neighbourhood. It is not difficult to reconcile with truth the
assertion of the historian who puts down the loss of the French army,
during the Spanish war, as 400,000 men, for more men fell in this
midnight manner than by the broad-day sword, or the pestilence of
climate, which in Spain, in the autumn, is excessive.”
[Illustration: Sir Harry Smith and the Spanish Patriot
Thomas Maybank]
That there was considerable cause for complaint on the part of the
Spaniards is also borne out by other eye-witnesses. Napier records that
a captain and his company came across a peasant’s hut and demanded
provisions, as was their wont. The father explained that his children
were half-starving, and he had but little food left. He was told that
he would be hanged to a beam. Should he give a sign that he repented of
his decision he would be cut down, but not otherwise. He was strung up
without further ado. Then the cries of his wife and children overcame
his noble act of self-sacrifice, and he was released. The soldiers
then took every scrap of food in the miserable dwelling and departed.
A similar method was adopted by a second body of plunderers, and
when they could find nothing they spitefully killed the poor fellow,
doubtless on the charge that he was hiding his stock.
Robert Blakeney, in noticing that most writers have referred to the
Spanish army as “ragged, half-famished wretches,” cautions us that
the men themselves must not be blamed for their unkempt appearance.
“The scandal and disgrace,” he writes, “were the legitimate attributes
of the Spanish Government. The members of the Cortez and Juntas were
entirely occupied in peculation, amassing wealth for themselves and
appointing their relatives and dependents to all places of power and
emolument, however unworthy and unqualified; and although it was
notorious that shiploads of arms, equipments, clothing, and millions
of dollars were sent from England for the use and maintenance of the
Spanish troops, yet all was appropriated to themselves by the members
of the general or local governments or their rapacious satellites,
while their armies were left barefoot, ragged and half-starved. In
this deplorable state they were brought into the field under leaders,
many of whom were scarcely competent to command a sergeant’s outlying
piquet; for in the Spanish army, as elsewhere, such was the undue
influence of a jealous and covetous aristocracy, that, unsupported
by their influence, personal gallantry and distinction, however
conspicuous, were but rarely rewarded.”[40] The same officer, who
joined the 28th Regiment as a boy of fifteen and saw much service in
the Peninsular War, assures us that “Courage was never wanting to the
Spanish soldiers; but confidence in their chiefs was rare.”[41]
An expedition against the American colonies of Spain had been mooted
several times by the British Cabinet, and Sir Arthur Wellesley had
reported on ways and means. The scheme had developed sufficiently for
some 8000 troops to be assembled at Cork preparatory to embarking for
the voyage. It was finally decided that the troops should be used for
a descent on Portugal, with the immediate intention of expelling the
French and raising the enthusiasm of the population against Napoleon.
The force sailed on the 12th July 1808 with Wellesley, now a
Lieutenant-General, in command.
John Wilson Croker, who served his country as Secretary to the
Admiralty from 1809 to 1830, dined with Sir Arthur and Lady Wellesley
in Harley Street on the evening before the General set out for Cork.
After settling some business connected with Ireland, Wellesley “seemed
to lapse into a kind of reverie,” his guest informs us, “and remained
silent so long that I asked him what he was thinking of. He replied,
‘Why, to say the truth, I am thinking of the French that I am going to
fight. I have not seen them since the campaign in Flanders, when they
were capital soldiers, and a dozen years of victory under Buonaparte
must have made them better still. They have besides, it seems, a new
system of strategy, which has out-manœuvred and overwhelmed all the
armies of Europe. ’Tis enough to make one thoughtful; but no matter:
my die is cast, they may overwhelm me, but I don’t think they will
out-manœuvre me. First, because I am not afraid of them, as everybody
else seems to be; and secondly, because if what I hear of their system
of manœuvres be true, I think it a false one as against steady troops.
I suspect all the continental armies were more than half beaten before
the battle was begun. I, at least, will not be frightened beforehand.”
Wellesley made the voyage to Portugal in a fast frigate, and landed
at Coruña on the 20th July 1808, ahead of his troops. This gave him
sufficient time to make a preliminary study of the situation at first
hand, and to be ready for immediate operations on the arrival of his
men.
The first news he received was not encouraging, for it told of the
battle of Medina de Rio Seco, which Bessières had won against the Army
of Galicia on the 14th July. A little relief was afforded by rumours
of success elsewhere, and “the arrival of the British money,” speedily
renewed the flagging spirits of the patriots who were fighting under
such adverse conditions.
The Junta of Galicia, while keenly appreciative of gold, ammunition,
and arms, showed no disposition to avail themselves of the Commander’s
services, and suggested his landing in the north of Portugal as
the government of Oporto was collecting native troops in that
neighbourhood. “The difference between any two men,” Wellesley writes
on the 21st July, the day before he sailed from Coruña, “is whether
the one is a better or a worse Spaniard, and the better Spaniard is
the one who detests the French most heartily. I understand that there
is actually no French party in the country; and at all events I am
convinced that no man now dares to show that he is a friend to the
French.”
To sum up the situation was not an arduous task for Wellesley. He came
to the conclusion without further ado that the only reasonable way to
assist the Spaniards was “to get possession of and organize a good army
in Portugal.” He proceeded to the fleet off Cape Finisterre, spent a
few hours there, and then went to Oporto, where he had an important
conference with the Bishop, who was also head of the Portuguese Junta,
and a number of military officers. It was eventually decided that about
5300 troops, chiefly infantry, stationed at Coimbra under Bernardino
Freire, should be used to co-operate with Wellesley, and that the
remaining forces, namely, 12,000 peasants, should either be employed
in the neighbourhood or in the province of Tras os Montes, where a
French attack seemed probable. Finally a spot in Mondego Bay was chosen
as the most suitable point for disembarkation, especially as it had
the additional advantage of being near Coimbra. On the 1st August the
business commenced, tiresome, and not unattended by danger because of
the heavy surf.
Wellesley had much to think about while this was proceeding. He had
just received the amazing news that he had been superseded by Sir
Hew Dalrymple, with Sir Harry Burrard as second in command, that Sir
John Moore was on his way with 10,000 men, and that he (Wellesley) and
Lieut.-Generals the Hon. J. Hope, Sir E. Paget, and Mackenzie Frazer
were to command divisions. Whatever agitation the new arrangements may
have occasioned Wellesley, he did not allow it to shake his purpose or
lessen his enthusiasm for the cause he had now so much at heart. He
writes to Castlereagh, “Whether I am to command the army or not, or
am to quit it, I shall do my best to insure its success; and you may
depend upon it that I shall not hurry the operations, or commence them
one moment sooner than they ought to be commenced, in order that I may
acquire the credit of the success. The Government will determine for
me what way they will employ me hereafter, whether here or elsewhere.”
He then goes on to sketch a campaign suitable for an army “of 30,000
Portuguese troops, which might be easily raised at an early period; and
20,000 British, including 4000 or 5000 cavalry.”
“The weather was so rough and stormy,” writes one of the soldiers of
the 71st Regiment, “that we were not all landed until the 5th. On our
leaving the ship, each man got four pound of biscuit, and four pound
of salt beef cooked on board. We marched, for twelve miles, up to the
knees in sand, which caused us to suffer much from thirst; for the
marching made it rise and cover us. We lost four men of our regiment,
who died of thirst. We buried them where they fell. At night we came to
our camp ground [Lugar], in a wood, where we found plenty of water, to
us more acceptable than anything besides on earth. We here built large
huts, and remained four days. We again commenced our march alongst
the coast, towards Lisbon. In our advance, we found all the villages
deserted, except by the old and destitute....”
On the night of the 8th, General Spencer and his corps of 4500 men
joined Wellesley from Cadiz, where he had landed at the request of
the Junta of Seville. By the 11th the whole army had arrived at
Leiria, and on the following day it was augmented by 2300 of Freire’s
Portuguese troops, their commander refusing point blank to march with
his remaining forces unless certain impossible demands were met. “My
object,” writes Wellesley, “is to obtain possession of Lisbon, and to
that I must adhere, whatever may be the consequences, till I shall have
attained it, as being the first and greatest step towards dispossessing
the French of Portugal.”
Meanwhile, Junot had sent instructions to Generals Loison and Delaborde
to effect a junction and attack Wellesley. This was prevented by the
timely arrival of the British troops at Leiria, for the former was
some sixteen miles to the south-east and the latter about the same
distance to the south-west. Wellesley was consequently between them.
This necessitated Loison’s return to the southward if he wished to join
Delaborde, and the British General determined to prevent the operation.
On the 14th, Wellesley was at Alcobaço, from whence the French had
retreated but a few hours before.
Although a small engagement took place near Obidos, Wellesley did not
offer battle until two days later because his whole force had not yet
come up. The conflict occurred at Roliça, where Delaborde’s army was
awaiting him on a hill. We know that the allied force totalled 15,000;
the strength of the enemy is uncertain, Wellesley believing it to be
6000, while Professor Oman[42] gives the figure as “about 4350 men,”
basing his conclusion on known official returns previous to the fight
and making allowance for probable losses by sickness.
“On the morning of the 17th,” says the eye-witness already quoted, “we
were under arms an hour before day. Half an hour after sunrise, we
observed the enemy in a wood. We received orders to retreat. Having
fallen back about two miles, we struck to the right, in order to come
upon their flank, whilst the 9th, 29th, and 5th battalion of the 60th,
attacked them in front. They had a very strong position on a hill. The
29th advanced up the hill, not perceiving an ambush of the enemy, which
they had placed on each side of the road. As soon as the 29th was right
between them, they gave a volley, which killed, or wounded, every man
in the grenadier company, except seven. Unmindful of their loss, the
regiment drove on, and carried the entrenchments.[43] The engagement
lasted until about four o’clock, when the enemy gave way. We continued
the pursuit, till darkness put a stop to it. The 71st had only one
man killed and one wounded. We were manœuvring all day, to turn their
flank; so that our fatigue was excessive, though our loss was but
small.”
Such was the battle of Roliça, Wellesley’s first victory over the
French. He was perfectly satisfied with the fighting and moral
qualities of his men as displayed in this engagement.
“I cannot sufficiently applaud the conduct of the troops throughout
this action,” he tells Castlereagh. Although he had a superiority of
strength, the number of soldiers “actually employed in the heat of the
action,” namely, 4635, was, “from unfavourable circumstances ... by
no means equal to that of the enemy.” The returns showed 479 British
killed, wounded, and missing, and the French about 600.
CHAPTER VIII
Victory Abroad, and Displeasure at Home
(1808-9)
“_From the sublime to the ridiculous is but a step._”
NAPOLEON.
With a mere handful of soldiers, Junot, big with ideas of a future
kingship, and underestimating the strength and fighting powers of the
enemy, left Lisbon and entered the field against Wellesley, whose
troops were now encamped at Vimiero to cover the landing of 4000
additional men under Generals Anstruther and Acland. Having joined
forces with the unfortunate Loison and Delaborde and thereby brought up
the total strength of his army to 13,056 men, the Marshal prepared to
attack.
Wellesley, who had over 18,000 troops, including 2000 Portuguese, was
well prepared, nay eager, for the encounter, but, unfortunately for
him, Burrard arrived on the evening of the 20th August. When Wellesley
explained to him his scheme of operations he showed no disposition to
fall in with it. Wellesley had wished Sir John Moore to proceed to
Lisbon by land in order to cut off Junot’s retreat, but the less-active
Burrard would have none of it, and ordered him to wait until Moore’s
arrival. “Whether we advance or not,” replied the General, “we shall
have to fight. For the French will certainly attack us if we do not
attack them.”
This prophecy was fulfilled about 8 o’clock on the morning of the
21st August 1808, when squadrons of the enemy’s cavalry appeared. An
attack was made on the British advanced guard. The French were driven
back at the point of the bayonet, while other troops, stationed in the
churchyard of Vimiero, prevented them from reaching the village of that
name, and Acland’s brigade attacked them in flank. “A most desperate
contest” was necessary before the enemy recoiled in confusion, during
which they lost heavily in killed and wounded, and in _material_
seven pieces of cannon. Other French troops, supported by a large
body of cavalry, turned their attention to the heights on the road to
Lourinhão, where Ferguson’s brigade was stationed. The latter charged
with praiseworthy coolness, and again there was a tale of disaster to
tell when the enemy fell back, while half a dozen guns were captured.
An attempt to recover part of the lost artillery resulted in the French
being obliged to retire “with great loss.”
Burrard, who had slept on the vessel which had brought him out, did
not arrive on the field till late in the day, and took no part in
the direction of the battle until Wellesley wished to pursue the
enemy to Torres Vedras and cut them off from Lisbon. “Sir Harry,” he
said, “now is your time to advance, the enemy is completely beaten,
and we shall be in Lisbon in three days.” This his senior officer
absolutely forbade. Had the former been allowed to follow his own
wishes he believed that, “in all probability, the whole would have
been destroyed.” As it was, at least 1800 of the enemy were rendered
_hors de combat_, including 300 or 400 troops who were made prisoners.
The British lost in killed and missing 186 men, and 534 were wounded.
The General was again delighted with the behaviour of his men, and in
communicating with the Duke of York, he averred that “this is the
only action I have ever been in, in which every thing passed as it was
directed and no mistake was made by any of the Officers charged with
its conduct.”
One splendid incident, one altogether human touch, affords relief
to the story of the battle of Vimiero. A piper of the gallant 71st
Highlanders, severely wounded in the thigh and deeply in need of
surgical aid, continued to blow his pibroch for the encouragement of
his colleagues, until exhaustion finally conquered his determined
spirit. Seated on the ground he declared that “the lads should nae
want music to their wark,” and went on with his weird music as though
parading within the walls of Edinburgh Castle.
“I afterwards saw him,” relates Lieut.-General Sir William Warre, “in
a hovel, where we collected the wounded ... both French and English. I
shook him by the hand, and told him I was very sorry to see so fine a
fellow so badly hurt; he answered, ‘Indeed, captain, I fear I am done
for, but there are some of those poor fellows,’ pointing to the French,
‘who are very bad indeed.’”
Such coolness, typified in successive instances, although not always
under such conditions,[44] has made our Empire what it is to-day. The
“common” British soldier, sowing the highway with his bones, enables a
later generation to reap a golden harvest.
[Illustration: The Gallant Piper at Vimiera
Thomas Maybank]
It is due to the French to record that they were not without men
equally as cool as Piper Mackay. A typical example is furnished by
Major Ross-Lewin, who fought in the 32nd, and it occurred immediately
after the battle of Vimiero:
“An officer of my regiment,” he relates, “happened to pass near an old
French soldier, who was seated by the roadside, covered with dust,
and desperately wounded; a cannon-shot had taken off both his feet
just above the ankles, but his legs were so swollen that his wounds
bled but little. On seeing the officer, the poor fellow addressed him,
saying, ‘_Monsieur, je vous conjure donnez moi mes pieds_.’ and at the
same time pointed to his feet, which lay on the road beyond his reach.
His request met with a ready compliance. The pale, toilworn features of
the veteran brightened up for an instant on receiving these mutilated
members, which had borne him through many a weary day, and which it
grieved him to see trampled on by the victorious troops that passed;
and then, as if prepared to meet his fast-approaching fate becomingly,
by the attainment of this one poor wish, he laid them tranquilly
beside him, and, with a look of resignation, and the words, ‘_Je suis
content_,’ seemed to settle himself for death.”
Many years afterwards, when in a reminiscent mood, the Duke of
Wellington recapitulated the events of the 21st August 1808. “The
French,” he told his guests, “came on at Vimiero with more confidence,
and seemed to _feel their way_ less than [smiling] I always found them
to do _afterwards_. They came on in their usual way, in a very heavy
column, and I received them in line, which they were not accustomed to,
and we repulsed them there several times, and at last they went off
beaten on all points, while I had half the army untouched and ready to
pursue; but Sir H. Burrard--who had joined the army in about the middle
of the battle, but seeing all doing so well, had desired me to continue
in the command now that he considered the battle as won, though I
thought it but half done--resolved to push it no further. I begged very
hard that he would go on, but he said enough had been done. Indeed,
if he had come earlier, the battle would not have taken place at all,
for when I waited on him on board the frigate in the bay the evening
before, he desired me to suspend all operations, and said he would do
nothing till he had collected all the force which he knew to be on the
way. He had heard of Moore’s arrival, but the French luckily resolving
to attack us, led to a different result. I came from the frigate about
nine at night, and went to my own quarters with the army, which, from
the nearness of the enemy, I naturally kept on the alert. In the dead
of the night a fellow came in--a German sergeant, or quartermaster--in
a great fright--so great that his hair seemed actually to stand on
end--who told me that the enemy was advancing rapidly, and would be
soon on us. I immediately sent round to the generals to order them
to get the troops under arms, and soon after the dawn of day we
were vigorously attacked. The enemy were first met by the (50th ?),
not a good-looking regiment, but devilish steady, who received them
admirably, and brought them to a full stop immediately, and soon drove
them back; they then tried two other attacks ... one very serious,
through a valley on our left; but they were defeated everywhere, and
completely repulsed, and in full retreat by noon, so that we had time
enough to have _finished them_ if I could have persuaded Sir H. Burrard
to go on.”
On the day following the battle of Vimiero, Dalrymple arrived.
While pondering over the situation he received a proposal for an
armistice from Junot, which developed into the Convention of Cintra,
preliminarily signed on the 30th August 1808. The most important
conditions were--the surrender of all places and forts in Portugal
occupied by the French troops, the evacuation of the country, and the
transport of the army, its munitions and “property,” to France in
British ships. By a strange oversight the important question of future
service was overlooked, consequently there was nothing to prevent an
early return of the troops to the Peninsula should Napoleon think fit
for them to do so.
We have now to consider Wellesley’s part in this much discussed
transaction. The Convention was definitely signed on the 30th August
1808, but previous to this a meeting of the General Officers was
called to deliberate upon it. “The result of the meeting,” Wellesley
writes on the 29th inst., “was a proposal to make certain alterations,
which I acknowledge I do not think sufficient, although the treaty
will answer in its amended form.... At the same time I must say that
I approve of allowing the French to evacuate Portugal, because I see
clearly that we cannot get them out of Portugal otherwise, under
existing circumstances, without such an arrangement; and we should
be employed in the blockade or siege of the places which they would
occupy during the season in which we ought and might be advantageously
employed against the French in Spain. But the Convention, by which they
should be allowed to evacuate Portugal, ought to be settled in the
most honorable manner to the army by which they have been beaten; and
we ought not to be kept for 10 days on our field of battle before the
enemy (who sued on the day after the action) is brought to terms.
“I am quite annoyed on this subject.”
Wellesley signed the preliminary Memorandum at the request of
Dalrymple, but had nothing to do with the final settlement. “I lament
the situation of our affairs as much as you do,” he writes on the 5th
September, “and I did every thing in my power to prevent it; but my
opinion was overruled. I had nothing to do with the Convention as it
now stands; and I have never seen it to this moment.... I have only to
regret that I put my name to an agreement of which I did not approve,
and which I did not negotiate: if I had not done it, I really believe
that they would not have dared to make such a Convention as they have
made: notwithstanding that that agreement was never ratified, and is
now so much waste paper.”[45]
His letters at this period teem with allusions to the unfortunate
treaty. He tells Castlereagh that “It is quite impossible for me to
continue any longer with this army; and I wish, therefore, that you
would allow me to return home and resume the duties of my office, if I
should still be in office, and it is convenient to the Government that
I should retain it; or if not, that I should remain upon the Staff in
England; or, if that should not be practicable, that I should remain
without employment. You will hear from others of the various causes
which I must have for being dissatisfied, not only with the military
and other public measures of the Commander-in-Chief, but with his
treatment of myself. I am convinced it is better for him, for the army,
and for me, that I should go away; and the sooner I go the better.”
On the 6th October Wellesley was in London, and at once resumed his
office as Chief Secretary for Ireland. The newspapers teemed with
unsavory references to the unpopular Convention; the caricaturists, not
to be rivalled by their journalistic brethren, produced the grossest
lampoons for the benefit of the indignant public. In one of them
Wellesley and his colleagues are hanging on gibbets, in another the
former is shown urging his troops to glory:
_This is Sir Arthur (whose valour and skill, began so well, but
ended so ill)
Who beat the French, who took the Gold, that lay in the City of
Lisbon._
Windham, writing in his Diary under date of the 16th September,
probably sums up the thoughts of most British statesmen of the time:
“At Chesterford heard report of news; said to be excellent, but without
particulars. Feasted upon the hopes of what I should meet at Hockrill.
Alas! _quanti de spe decidi!_ it was the news of the convention with
Junot. _There never was surely such a proceeding in the history of wars
or negotiations._ There is no bearing the thought of it.”
A Court of Inquiry was instituted. Dalrymple and Burrard were recalled,
and together with Wellesley, were examined before a board of officers,
which included General David Dundas and Lord Moira, at Chelsea
Hospital. The finding of the Court was non-committal “respecting
the fitness of the Convention in the relative situation of the two
armies,” doubtless because a unanimous “verdict” could not be arrived
at, but the members definitely declared “that unquestionable zeal and
firmness appear throughout to have been exhibited by Lieut.-Generals
Sir Hew Dalrymple, Sir Harry Burrard, and Sir Arthur Wellesley....”
In commenting on the judgment thus expressed, Sir Herbert Maxwell
notes that the two senior officers were never employed again, adding,
“Similar eclipse might have fallen upon Sir Arthur, but for the efforts
of Castlereagh and other powerful friends, whose confidence in their
General was never shaken.”
In the following January (1809) the House of Lords and the House of
Commons expressed their thanks to General Wellesley for the victories
of Roliça and Vimiero.
“It is your praise,” said the Speaker in the Commons, “to have inspired
your troops with unshaken confidence and unbounded ardour; to have
commanded, not the obedience alone, but the hearts and affections of
your companions in arms; and, having planned your operations with the
skill and promptitude which have so eminently characterized all your
former exertions, you have again led the armies of your country to
battle, with the same deliberate valour and triumphant success which
have long since rendered your name illustrious in the remotest parts of
this Empire.
“Military glory has ever been dear to this nation; and great military
exploits, in the field or upon the ocean, have their sure reward in
Royal favour and the gratitude of Parliament. It is, therefore, with
the highest satisfaction, that, in this fresh instance, I now proceed
to deliver to you the thanks of this House....”
Wellesley’s reply was made in three well-chosen sentences, without the
slightest attempt at rhetoric. In the House of Lords Vimiero was spoken
of as “a signal victory, honorable and glorious to the British arms.”
The resolutions of the peers, which included high appreciation of the
behaviour of the non-commissioned officers and privates, were conveyed
to Sir Arthur by the Lord Chancellor, and acknowledged by their
recipient in a short letter, the most important paragraphs of which are
as follows:
“I have received the mark of distinction which the House of Lords
have conferred upon me with sentiments of gratitude and respect
proportionate to the high sense I entertain of the greatness of the
honor which it carries with it; and I shall have great pleasure in
communicating to the Officers and the troops the distinguished reward
of their exemplary conduct which their Lordships have conferred upon
them.
“I beg leave, at the same time, to express to their Lordships my thanks
for the expressions of personal civility with which your Lordship has
conveyed to me the commands of the House.”
These signs of approval must have been entirely satisfactory to
Sir Arthur after the bitter criticisms of the previous months, but
what he particularly valued was a handsome service of plate, worth
intrinsically £1000, but sentimentally beyond price, presented to him
by the brigadier and field officers who were associated with him in
the victory at Vimiero. They, at any rate, had implicit faith in their
General.
CHAPTER IX
Sir Arthur’s Return to Portugal
(1809)
“_We are not naturally a military people; the whole business of an
army upon service is foreign to our habits, and is a constraint
upon them, particularly in a poor country like this._”
WELLINGTON.
Baron de Frénilly, travelling to Paris in December 1808, notes that
“the roads along which we passed were crowded with splendid troops
who were on their way to find a grave in the Peninsula.” Napoleon, in
the Constitution he granted to Spain, assumes for himself not only
the so-called “divine right of kings,” but the special favour of
Providence. “God,” he says, “has given me the power and the will to
overcome all obstacles.” Frénilly, writing after the Emperor’s death,
merely states an historical fact; Napoleon, at the height of his
stupendous power, regards himself as omnipotent, and proves within a
few years that he is not.
Yet it must be conceded that the Dictator of Europe--apart from moral
considerations, which never troubled him to any extent--had a certain
right to infer from his past experience that the Almighty was on his
side. It was not for him to foresee that the Peninsula was to prove a
running sore of the Imperial body politic. To be sure, Joseph had not
been particularly successful on the throne of the Spanish Bourbons,
Murat had displayed many foolish qualities, Dupont had surrendered,
Junot had evacuated Portugal, and eleven millions had rebelled either
practically or theoretically against French domination, but there was
still himself, and God was “on the side of the heaviest battalions!”
“I may find in Spain the Pillars of Hercules, but not the limits of
my power.” Thus he endeavoured to encourage his brother, and there is
no reason to suspect that he imagined otherwise. He announced that he
would pour between 300,000 and 400,000 troops across the Pyrenees--he
actually began the new campaign with over 200,000, which compared more
than favourably with the 120,000 ill-organized patriots under Castaños,
Palafox, Vives, Belvedere, Blake, and La Romana, who usually acted
without any idea of the value of co-operation.
The number of those ready and willing to engage in a guerilla warfare
cannot be given.[46] Statistics fail in such a matter as this. Names
indelibly associated with Napoleon’s greatness were either present or
coming--Victor, Bessières, Moncey, Lefebvre, Ney, St Cyr, Mortier, and
Junot.
When Dalrymple, Burrard, and Wellesley sailed from Portugal the
British command devolved upon Sir John Moore. This being a biography
of Wellington, Moore’s astounding campaign can only be referred to in
the briefest way, but it is necessary to mention the more important
incidents if we are to understand the various phases of the war.
Leaving 9000 men at Lisbon with Lieutenant-General Sir John Cradock,
and taking with him 14,000 troops, Moore advanced into Spain to
co-operate with the Spaniards according to his instructions. His own
columns reached Salamanca, the point of concentration, in November
1808, but Baird, who, with a reinforcement of 13,000 men, was to
effect a junction with him, found it impossible to do so. There was
much delay in consequence.
In the first week of the following month the Emperor was at Madrid, and
the Spanish capital once again in the hands of the French. Disaster
after disaster had followed hard in the tracks of the national forces.
It was Moore’s hope that by slowly retreating northward the enemy would
follow, and thus enable his allies in the south to recover. Having
united with Baird, and learned that Soult, with not more than 20,000,
was near Sahagun, Moore was on the eve of combat when the startling
intelligence reached him that Napoleon was in pursuit. The Emperor had
told the Senate, “I am determined to carry on the war with the utmost
activity, and to destroy the armies that England has disembarked in
that country.” With wonderful promptitude Moore turned towards Coruña,
where he believed the British fleet awaited him. Napoleon, hearing
disconcerting news from Paris, made off for his capital, leaving Soult,
“the Iron Duke of France,” and Ney to pursue the red-coats.
On the 16th January 1809, the battle in which Moore received his
death-wound was fought. Within twenty-four hours the victorious troops
embarked for the homeland. Not a British soldier, other than deserters
or stragglers, was left in Spain. In the sister kingdom there were
some 12,000, of whom 9000 had been left at Lisbon by Moore when he had
set out for Salamanca; the remainder had arrived from England in the
previous November and December. In addition, Sir Robert Wilson had
succeeded in equipping some 1300 men at Oporto for his Loyal Lusitanian
Legion.
It soon became evident that war would shortly break out between
France and Austria, thus precluding any thought on Napoleon’s part of
going back to the Peninsula. Castlereagh, notwithstanding previous
experiences, was as enthusiastic as ever. Baird and his ragged troops
were no sooner home than it was remarked that the Secretary for War
and Wellesley were very frequently together. Wiseacres foretold an
early return of the latter to Spain and Portugal.
Sir Arthur prepared a lengthy Memorandum on the defence of Portugal,
which was placed in the hands of the Cabinet for careful consideration.
“I have always been of opinion,” it begins, “that Portugal might be
defended, whatever might be the result of the contest in Spain; and
that in the meantime the measures adopted for the defence of Portugal
would be highly useful to the Spaniards in their contest with the
French.”
Wellesley suggested the thorough reorganization of the native
Portuguese troops, part of the expense being borne by Great Britain,
and the employment of not less than 30,000 British troops, including
4000 or 5000 cavalry and a large body of artillery. The entire army
was to be commanded by British officers. Riflemen and 3000 British or
German cavalry should be sent as additional reinforcements as soon as
possible, in addition to a corps of engineers for an army of 60,000.
He perfectly understood that the French would not be caught napping,
for “it may be depended upon that as soon as the newspapers shall have
announced[47] the departure of Officers for Portugal, the French armies
in Spain will receive orders to make their movements towards Portugal,
so as to anticipate our measures for its defence. We ought therefore to
have every thing on the spot, or nearly so, before any alarm is created
at home respecting our intentions.”
Thanks in no small measure to Castlereagh, Wellesley was appointed
to the supreme command of the new expedition. He left England on
the 14th April 1809, a few weeks after Soult’s vanguard had crossed
the Portuguese frontier, and landed at Lisbon on the 22nd, after
a most eventful voyage, having encountered terrible weather off
the Isle of Wight which threatened to drive his vessel ashore. The
Commander-in-Chief thus sums up the situation in the Peninsula: “At
that time,” he says, “the French had got possession of Zaragoza,
Marshal Soult held Oporto and the northern provinces of Portugal. The
battle of Medellin had been fought on the 29th March; and General
Cuesta was endeavouring to recover from its effects, and to collect
an army again at Monasterio, in the mountains of the Sierra Morena.
The French, under Marshal Victor, were in possession of the Guadiana,
and had their advanced posts as forward as Los Santos. Sebastiani
was at Ciudad Real, and held in check the army of La Carolina, at
that time under the command of General Venegas, consisting of about
12,000 men. Ney was in possession of Galicia; Salamanca was held by a
small detachment of French troops; St Cyr was at Catalonia with his
corps of 25,000 men; and Kellermann, who had succeeded to Bessières
in the command of the 6th corps, was at Valladolid. Mortier, with his
corps,[48] and the Duc d’Abrantès (Junot), with the 8th corps, at
Zaragoza. The Portuguese army was totally disorganized, and nearly
annihilated; and the Spanish troops were scarcely able to hold their
positions in the Sierra Morena. The Marquis de la Romana, who had been
with his corps on the frontiers of Portugal, near Chaves, from the
period of the embarkation of the British army at Coruña, in the month
of January, till the month of March, had moved from thence when Soult
invaded Portugal by Chaves, and afterwards moved towards the Asturias
with his army, and went himself into that province.”
The greeting the Commander-in-Chief received at the hands of the
populace of Lisbon would have been embarrassing to one possessing
a less cool head, but Wellesley knew perfectly well that applause
to-day is apt to become condemnation to-morrow. He was appointed
Marshal-General in the Portuguese Army, which was now placed in the
capable hands of General Beresford by the British Cabinet, Wellesley’s
one second-in-command being Major-General Rowland Hill. According to
his instructions, “the defence of Portugal you will consider as the
first and immediate object of your attention. But, as the security
of Portugal can only be effectually provided for in connection with
the defence of the Peninsula in the larger sense, his Majesty on this
account, as well as from the unabated interest he takes in the cause
of Spain, leaves it to your judgment to decide, when your army shall
be advanced on the frontier of Portugal, how your efforts can be best
combined with the Spanish, as well as the Portuguese troops, in support
of the common cause. In any movements you may undertake, you will,
however, keep in mind that, until you receive further orders, your
operations must necessarily be conducted with especial reference to the
protection of that country.”
Of British troops the Commander-in-Chief now had at his disposal
23,455, namely, 18,935 infantry, 4270 cavalry, and 250 attached
to the wagon train; Portugal contributed 16,000 men. Costello, a
non-commissioned officer of the 95th Rifles, and later a Captain in
the British Legion, has nothing good to say of the Portuguese troops.
In his record of the Peninsular War[49] he gives several instances of
their unreliability and treacherous nature. One example must suffice:
“The sanguinary nature of the Portuguese,” he says, “during the whole
period of the war was notorious. When crossed or excited, nothing but
the shedding of blood could allay their passion. It was always with
the greatest difficulty that we could preserve our French prisoners
from being butchered by them, even in cold blood. They would hang upon
the rear of a detachment with prisoners, like so many carrion birds,
waiting every opportunity to satiate their love of vengeance, and it
required all the firmness and vigilance of our troops to keep them in
check. It was well known that even our men fell in stepping between
them and the French whom they had marked out as victims. Indeed, it was
not unfrequent for our men to suffer from the consequences of their
ferocity, and I myself, while at Vallée, had a narrow escape. I had
crossed the hills to purchase some necessaries at the quarters of the
52nd Regiment, and on my return fell in with several of the soldiers
of the 3rd Caçadores. One of them, a fierce-looking scoundrel, evinced
a great inclination to quarrel, the more particularly as he perceived
that I was unarmed and alone. Having replied rather sharply to some
abuse they had cast upon the English, by reflecting on their countrymen
in return, he flew into a rage, drew his bayonet, and made a rush at
me, which I avoided by stepping aside, and tripping him head foremost
on the ground. I was in the act of seizing his bayonet, when a number
of his comrades came up, to whom he related, in exaggerated terms, the
cause of our disagreement. Before he had half concluded, a general cry
arose of ‘Kill the English dog’; and the whole, drawing their bayonets,
were advancing upon me when a party of the 52nd came up, the tables
were turned, and the Caçadores fled in all directions.”
Wellesley at once prepared to advance, and had not been at Lisbon a
week before representations were made to him by the Junta of Spanish
Estremadura for aid in behalf of the southern provinces. He replied
that until “the enemy who has invaded Portugal shall have been removed”
he could not hope to lend them the requisite assistance. “The enemy”
consisted of the corps under Soult and Victor. The army of the former,
which had left Coruña and invaded Portugal by Napoleon’s imperative
orders, now occupied Oporto. This, the second city in the kingdom
and the centre of the most prosperous district, fell after a gallant
if unscientific resistance on the part of the inhabitants under the
Bishop. The Marshal took dire vengeance on the insurgents during the
journey from Galicia, perhaps because he had suffered from the guerilla
warfare, now almost universal throughout the Peninsula. Victor’s army
was to take Badajoz and afterwards Seville, while Sebastiani held the
south in check. Wellesley decided to attack Soult, which necessitated
a march of over eighty miles of difficult country. Leaving two small
detachments of his own and of Portuguese troops upon the Tagus to
watch the movements of Victor, he set out with 13,000 British, 9000
Portuguese, and 3000 Germans--25,000 in all.
The right column, consisting of 9000 men under Beresford, was sent to
Lamego, on the Douro, so as to be ready to cut off Soult’s retreat,
the left making for Oporto with Wellesley. On the 10th May the cavalry
and advanced guard of the latter crossed the Vouga, hoping to surprise
the French troops at Albergaria and the neighbouring villages, but the
movement was not completely successful, although a number of prisoners
and cannon were taken.
The advanced guard reached Vendas Novas on the following day, and
drove in the outposts of the French advanced guard. The latter were
vigorously attacked in the woods and village, and defeated with
considerable loss. All this augured well for the ensuing operations,
and on the 12th the vanguard reached the southern bank of the Douro.
The French were stationed on the opposite bank, having taken the
precaution to burn the bridge after crossing, and to withdraw all the
boats they could discover.
Unfortunate in this matter, Wellesley was favoured in another. His
army was screened by cliffs and a hill called the Serra. This bold
rock was surmounted by a Franciscan convent, where the Commander
posted batteries and made his observations. As the river winds a great
deal, his movements were unobserved by those on the look-out at the
French headquarters, to the left of Wellesley as he peered through his
glass across the wide waterway. He had already perceived an extensive
building, known as the Seminary, surrounded by high walls with but one
entrance on the landward side, and open to the river. This he knew
would be an excellent position to secure, especially as it was almost
opposite to him.
There was in the army a certain Colonel Waters, a keen-eyed officer
with an infinite amount of resource and a ready wit. He contended that
it was scarcely probable that Soult could have secured every boat, and
interrogated a refugee on the point. He found that the man had crossed
in a small skiff.[50] With the aid of the prior of Amarante, the
fugitive, and several peasants, he heaved the boat out of the mud, and,
crossing the stream, brought back a number of barges. In these three
companies of the Buffs, under Lieut.-General Paget, effected a landing
on the opposite side. This excellent officer was seriously wounded
almost immediately afterward, but the passage of the Douro had been
secured.
General Murray, who had been ordered to cross at Barca d’Avintas, also
managed to get over, and signally failed to check the retiring columns
after the battle. As additional troops gained the opposite shore the
French made repeated attempts to hurl them back, but were ultimately
obliged to retreat “in the utmost confusion” towards Amarante.
According to a letter from General Stewart to his brother, Lord
Castlereagh, the French fled with such haste that “Sir Arthur Wellesley
dined at their headquarters on the dinner which had been prepared for
Marshal Soult.”
On the 19th May, Soult was across the frontier, having been compelled
to abandon over fifty guns and his baggage. In making his way across
the Sierra Catalina to escape the pursuing troops, his rear-guard was
defeated at Salamonde, with severe loss. He eventually reached Orense,
in Galicia, minus some 5000 men, including the sick and wounded he had
left behind him in Oporto.
“The road from Penafiel to Montealegre,” says Wellesley, “is strewed
with the carcases of horses and mules, and of French soldiers, who were
put to death by the peasantry before our advanced guard could save
them. This last circumstance is the natural effect of the species of
warfare which the enemy have carried on in this country. Their soldiers
have plundered and murdered the peasantry at their pleasure; and I
have seen many persons hanging in the trees by the sides of the road,
executed for no reason that I could learn, excepting that they have not
been friendly to the French invasion and usurpation of the government
of their country; and the route of their column, on their retreat,
could be traced by the smoke of the villages to which they set fire.”
Within a fortnight Wellesley was writing of the defects of his own men.
“I have long been of opinion,” he says, “that a British army could
bear neither success nor failure, and I have had manifest proofs of
the truth of this opinion in the first of its branches in the recent
conduct of the soldiers of this army. They have plundered the country
most terribly, which has given me the greatest concern....
“They have plundered the people of bullocks, among other property, for
what reason I am sure I do not know, except it be, as I understand
is their practice, to sell them to the people again. I shall be very
much obliged to you if you will mention this practice to the Ministers
of the Regency, and bid them to issue a proclamation forbidding the
people, in the most positive terms, to purchase any thing from the
soldiers of the British army.”
The Commander-in-Chief relates the same terrible facts to Castlereagh.
“The army behave terribly ill,” is his expression. “They are a rabble
who cannot bear success any more than Sir J. Moore’s army could bear
failure. I am endeavoring to tame them; but, if I should not succeed, I
must make an official complaint of them, and send one or two corps home
in disgrace. They plunder in all directions.”
Meanwhile Victor, far from taking Badajoz and marching on Seville as
the Emperor wished, had found it necessary to move in the direction
of Madrid, where he could secure much needed assistance. He therefore
took up his position at Talavera. Wellesley, intent upon crushing him,
arrived at Abrantes about the same time as the Marshal was evacuating
Estremadura and consequently abandoning the fruits of his victory over
Cuesta at Medellin. For Wellesley to have followed Victor with the
relatively few men at his disposal would have been to court disaster,
and he therefore acquiesced in a new plan of operations suggested
by Cuesta, in which the Spaniards were to be given an opportunity
of showing their capabilities or proving their incapacity. This,
says Professor Oman, was “the first and only campaign which he ever
undertook in company with a Spanish colleague and without supreme
control over the whole conduct of affairs.”
CHAPTER X
Talavera
(1809)
“_The battle of Talavera was the hardest fought of modern times._”
WELLINGTON.
The potentialities of the new project were distinctly promising. After
uniting with Cuesta, Wellesley was to follow the course of the Tagus
and cut off Victor’s army of 33,000 troops while the attention of
Sebastiani and Joseph Bonaparte, who had but 17,000 men all told, was
occupied by Venegas.
When last heard of Soult and Ney were in Galicia busily engaged in
suppressing an insurrection, so no opposition was anticipated from
them. In this matter after events proved the facts to be far different
from the surmise. There seemed every likelihood of a successful issue
provided there was no snapping of individual links of the chain of
operations. Wellesley did not find Cuesta a particularly affable
colleague, but he was not the man to assert his own opinion unless he
thought it imperative. He characterized him as having “no military
genius,” which is certainly more favourable than “that deformed-looking
lump of pride, ignorance, and treachery,” which is the description
given to us by Costello. “He was,” the latter adds, “the most
murderous-looking old man I ever saw.” They came together at Oropesa
on the 20th July, their forces totalling 55,000, of which 35,000 were
Spanish. It was the task of Venegas and his 26,000 men to approach
Madrid from the south, and, by a demonstration in force, distract
the attention of Sebastiani. He proved far too slow, and ere he was
able to interfere, Victor, Sebastiani, and Joseph concentrated in the
neighbourhood of Toledo. On the 26th July the last batch of their
50,000 troops came together.
Had Wellesley been allowed to attack on the 23rd July, as he wished,
it is probable that he would have crushed Victor, whose reinforcements
did not begin to arrive until the following day. Cuesta had already
shown his incompetency, and some of his advanced guard had been roughly
handled by a French cavalry division. It was Wellesley’s opinion
that the psychological moment had arrived, but the Spanish commander
objected. “Had we fought then,” Wellesley afterwards averred, “it
would have been as great a battle as Waterloo, and would have cleared
Spain of the French for that time.” The formidable task before him was
not made lighter by the knowledge that the commissariat and transport
arrangements had utterly broken down.
At Talavera, evacuated by Victor, who moved a few miles to the east,
Wellesley was obliged to halt, and even threatened to withdraw from
Spain because of the ill-treatment accorded his famishing troops. “I
have never seen an army,” he says, “so ill-treated in any country, or,
considering that all depends upon its operations, one which deserved
good treatment so much. It is ridiculous to pretend that the country
cannot supply our wants. The French army is well fed, and the soldiers
who are taken in good health, and well supplied with bread, of which
indeed they left a small magazine behind them. This is a rich country
in corn, in comparison with Portugal, and yet, during the whole of my
operations in that country, we never wanted bread but on one day on
the frontiers of Galicia. In the Vera de Plasencia there are means to
supply this army for 4 months, as I am informed, and yet the alcaldes
have not performed their engagements with me. The Spanish army has
plenty of every thing, and we alone, upon whom every thing depends, are
actually starving.”
After considerable trouble Cuesta consented to Wellesley assuming
supreme command of the combined forces. On the afternoon of the
27th the British General mounted his horse and, accompanied by his
staff, rode out of the town to an old château, known as the Casa de
Salinas. His object was to obtain a bird’s-eye view from the roof of
the movements of the enemy on the Alberche. He apprehended no danger,
because Spanish troops occupied the adjacent woods. In this he was
deceived, for a number of French _tirailleurs_ suddenly appearing, the
troops beat a hasty retreat. The Commander-in-Chief jumped from the
wall and regained his horse not a moment too soon. Had it not been for
the near presence of a body of English infantry, who immediately opened
fire, it is extremely probable that Wellington and his staff would have
been captured.
At five o’clock the opposing forces were within touch, the French
having crossed the river and driven in the British piquets, who lost
about 400 men.
One of the finest descriptions of the ensuing battle--or more
correctly, series of battles--is that of Captain M. de Rocca, a French
officer of Hussars, which has the advantage of giving the point of view
of the enemy, and how Wellesley was regarded by one at least of his
combatants.
“The Spaniards,” he says, “were posted in a situation deemed
impregnable, behind old walls and garden-fences, which border and
encompass the city of Talavera.[51] Their right was defended by the
Tagus, and their left joined the English, near a redoubt constructed
on an eminence. The ground in front of the Anglo-Spanish armies was
very unequal, and intersected here and there by ravines, formed by the
rains of winter. The whole extent of their position was covered by the
channel of a pretty deep torrent, at that time dry. The English left
was strengthened by a conical eminence that commanded the greater part
of the field of battle, and which was separated by a deep extensive
valley from the Castilian chain of mountains.
“This eminence was thus in a manner the key to the enemy’s position,
and against this decisive point of attack, an experienced general,
possessed of that intuitive glance which insures success, would
immediately have led the principal part of his disposable force, to
obtain possession of it. He would either have taken it by assault,
or have turned it by the valley. But King Joseph, when he should
have acted, was seized with an unfortunate spirit of indecision and
uncertainty. He attempted only half measures, he distributed his forces
partially, and lost the opportunity of conquering while feeling the way
for it. Marshal Jourdan, the second in command, had not that spur of
patriotism in the Spanish war, which inspired him when he fought in the
plains of Fleurus, to achieve the independence of France.
“The French commenced the engagement by a cannonade and rifle-fire in
advance of their right; and they despatched a single battalion only,
and some sharp-shooters, by the valley, to take the eminence which
defended the English left, never thinking they would do otherwise
than yield. This battalion, however, having to contend with superior
numbers, was repulsed with loss, and compelled to retire. A division of
dragoons, which had gone to reconnoitre Talavera, found the approaches
to that city strongly fortified with artillery, and could not advance.
“At nightfall, the French made another attempt to gain the hill. A
regiment of infantry, followed at a short distance by two others,
attacked the extreme left of the English with unexampled ardour,
arrived at the summit of the hill, and took possession of it. But
having been fiercely assaulted, in its turn, by an entire division
of the English, just, when having conquered, it was breathless with
exertion, it was immediately obliged to give way. One of the two
regiments, commanded to assist in this attack, had lost its way in a
wood on account of the darkness; the other not getting soon enough over
the ravine, which covered the enemy’s position, had not arrived in time.
“Both these attacks had miscarried, though conducted with intrepid
bravery, because they had been made by an inadequate number of
troops. A single battalion had been sent, and then one division, when
a great proportion of the whole army should have been despatched.
These unsuccessful attempts revealed to the English what we designed
next day; and still more evidently demonstrated the importance of
the station they held. They passed the greater part of the night in
fortifying it with artillery.
“The sun rose next morning on the two armies drawn up in battle order,
and again the cannonade commenced. The defence of Portugal being
entrusted to the English army, the fate of that country, and, perhaps,
of all the Peninsula, was now to be decided by this contest. The
veterans of the first and fourth French corps, accustomed for years to
conquer throughout Europe, and always to witness their ardour seconded
by the combined skill of their chiefs, burned with impatience for
orders to engage, and thought to overthrow all before them by one well
conjoined assault.
“One division alone, of three regiments of infantry, was sent by the
valley to storm the position, of which we had, for a moment, obtained
possession the preceding evening. After considerable loss, this
division reached the top of the eminence, and was just about taking
it. One of the regiments had already advanced as far as the artillery,
when their charge was repulsed, and the whole division was forced to
retire. The English, apprehending by this renewed attack that the
French designed to turn their left by the valley, stationed their
cavalry there; and caused a division of the Spaniards to occupy the
skirts of the high Castilian mountains beyond it. The French receded
to the ground they first occupied. The cannonade continued for another
hour, and then became gradually silent. The overpowering heat of
mid-day obliged both armies to suspend the combat, and observe a kind
of involuntary truce, during which the wounded were removed.
“King Joseph, having at last gone himself to reconnoitre the enemy’s
position, gave orders, at four o’clock, for a general attack against
the army of England. A division of dragoons was left to observe the
Spaniards in the direction of Talavera. General Sebastiani’s corps
marched against the right of the English, while Marshal Victor’s three
divisions of infantry, followed by masses of cavalry, charged against
their left, to attack the eminence by the valley. King Joseph and
Marshal Jourdan took part with the reserve, in the rear of the 4th
division. The artillery and musketry were not long in being heard.
“The English Commander, stationed on the hill which overlooked the
field of battle, was present always where danger demanded his presence.
He could survey, at a glance, every corps of his army, and perceive
below him the least movement of the French. He saw the line of battle
formed, the columns disposed for the conflict; he penetrated their
designs by their arrangements, and thus had time to order his plans,
so as to penetrate and prevent those of his foes. The position of the
English army was naturally strong and difficult of approach, both in
front and flank; but in the rear it was quite accessible, and gave
ample freedom to their troops to hasten to the quarter threatened.
“The French had a ravine to pass before they could reach the enemy.
They had to advance over ground much intersected, very rugged and
unequal, obliging them frequently to break their line; and the
positions they attacked had been previously fortified. The left
could not see the right, or know what was passing there, for the
rising ground between them. Every corps of the army fought apart,
with unparalleled bravery, and ability too, but there was no
co-operation in their efforts. The French were not then commanded by a
General-in-chief, the resources of whose genius might have compensated
for the advantages which the nature of the ground denied them and
yielded to their enemies.
“The division of Lapisse first passed the ravine, attacked the
fortified eminence, ascended it in defiance of a fire of grape-shot
which mowed down its ranks, but was repulsed with the loss of its
General and a great number of officers and soldiers. In retreating,
it left the right of the fourth corps uncovered, which the British
artillery took in flank, and forced for a moment to retire. The left
of General Sebastiani’s corps advanced under a most intense fire of
artillery to the fort of a redoubt on the right of the English, and
between the combined armies. It was too far advanced, and too soon
forward--it was encountered and driven back by the united corps of the
English right and the Spanish left. Assistance came, and the combat
was renewed. In the centre, Marshal Victor rallied the division of
Lapisse at the foot of the hill, and abandoned all further attempt to
gain possession of it. The French then tried to turn it either by the
right or left. Villatte’s division advanced in the valley, and Ruffin’s
moved to the right of this by the foot of the Castilian mountains.
The cavalry, forming a second line, were in readiness to debouch into
the plain in the rear of the enemy whenever the infantry could open a
passage.
“Just as the French began to move, the English, with two regiments
of cavalry, made a charge against their masses. They engaged in the
valley, passed onwards regardless of the fire of several battalions
of infantry, between the divisions of Villatte and Ruffin, and fell
with impetuosity never surpassed on the 10th and 26th regiments of
our chasseurs. The 10th could not resist the charge. They opened their
ranks, but rallied immediately, and nearly the whole of the 23rd
regiment of light dragoons at the head of the English cavalry was
either destroyed or taken captive.
“A division of the English Royal Guards, stationed on the left and
centre of their army, being charged by the French, at first repulsed
them vigorously; but one of its brigades, being too far advanced, was
in its turn taken in flank by the fire of the French artillery and
infantry, sustained considerable loss, and retreated with difficulty
behind their second line. The French took advantage of this success;
they again moved forward, and but one other effort was necessary to
break through into the plain, and combat on equal ground. But King
Joseph thought it was too late to advance with the reserve, and the
attack was delayed till the following day.[52] Night again closed over
us, and the conflict ceased from exhaustion, without either side having
won such a decided advantage as to entitle it to claim the victory.
“The corps of Marshals Victor and Sebastiani withdrew successively
during the night towards the reserve, leaving an advanced guard of
cavalry on the scene of the engagement, to take care of the wounded.
The English, who expected a new attack in the morning, were greatly
surprised when day dawned to see that their enemies, leaving twenty
pieces of cannon, had retreated to their old position on the Alberche.
The English and Spaniards, according to their own accounts, lost 6,616
men.[53] The French had nearly 10,000 slain.”
Wellesley characterizes the battle as “a most desperate one ... we had
about two to one against us; fearful odds! but we maintained all our
positions, and gave the enemy a terrible beating.” Very few of the
Spanish troops were engaged in any real sense, although those who took
an active part behaved well, and one of the cavalry regiments “made
an excellent and well-timed charge.” The majority of them were in a
“miserable state of discipline” and “entirely incapable of performing
any manœuvre, however simple.” There was a sad lack of _morale_,
qualified officers were few, and seemed either unable or unwilling to
follow their allies in the matter of subjecting their men to definite
regulations. When the British soldiers were engaged in removing
the wounded and in burying the dead after Talavera, “the arms and
accoutrements of both were collected and carried away by the Spanish
troops.”
The exhausted condition of his army prevented Wellesley from following
the enemy, but as Venegas was on the move and threatening Madrid, this
was not regarded as of consummate importance. Of more immediate concern
was the alarming intelligence received by the Commander-in-Chief a few
hours later that Soult’s army was no longer in Galicia, but marching to
intercept the British communications with Portugal.
CHAPTER XI
Wellesley’s Defence of Portugal
(1809-10)
“_If I fail, God will, I hope, have mercy upon me, for nobody else
will._”
WELLESLEY.
Soult, joined by Mortier and Ney, had some 50,000 men with which to
face the victor of Talavera. Had Cuesta guarded the mountain passes as
he was supposed to do, Wellesley would not have found himself in so
awkward a predicament. Both his front and rear were threatened, the
former by Victor and Sebastiani and the latter by Soult. While his
ranks were sadly depleted, those of the French were augmented. By great
good fortune General Craufurd and his celebrated Light Division arrived
on the morning of the 29th July, the day following the conclusion of
the battle.
Rumour proved on this occasion a powerful ally of the
Commander-in-Chief, for had not Craufurd heard of the supposed death
of Sir Arthur, it is scarcely likely that he would have urged his men,
each loaded with forty pounds weight on his back, to march forty-three
English miles in twenty-two hours. Wellesley made up his mind to
advance against Soult, but was forced to abandon the idea when he
heard that the enemy had entered Plasencia in great force, thereby
severing the British communications with Lisbon. A retreat “to take up
the defensive line of the Tagus” became eminently necessary. “We were
in a bad scrape,” he writes on the 8th August, “from which I think I
have extricated both armies; and I really believe that, if I had not
determined to retire at the moment I did, all retreat would have been
cut off for both.” “Both,” of course, includes the Spaniards, whose
“train of mismanagement,” added to Soult’s advance, were contributing
causes of his withdrawal.
The Spaniards promised to remain at Talavera to watch the movements of
the enemy and to assist the wounded. No sooner was Wellesley out of the
way than Cuesta felt that the position was untenable, with the result
that many British soldiers, rendered unable to keep up with the Spanish
troops by reason of their wounds, were made prisoners by Victor, who
soon afterwards took possession of the town.
The Tagus was crossed at Arzobispo, and a rearguard of 8000 Spaniards,
under Cuesta, left to defend the passage. At Almarez the bridge of
boats was broken to arrest Soult’s advance from Naval Moral, no great
distance away, and on the high road. As it happened, the French
Marshal was able to cross the river at Arzobispo by means of a ford.
He promptly defeated the Spanish force there and captured their guns.
Not a few of the defenders fled, throwing away their arms and clothing,
a very usual device. This was followed by the defeat of Venegas by
Joseph and Sebastiani at Almonacid, near Toledo, where several thousand
men were either killed, wounded, or captured, and of a Portuguese and
Spanish column which had been detached from the main army, under Sir
Robert Wilson, by Ney at the Puerto de Baños.
In the middle of August 1809 the various armies were occupying the
following positions: British, Jaraicejo; Eguia, Deleytosa; Vanegas, La
Carolina; Ney, Salamanca; Kellermann, Valladolid; Soult, Plasencia;
Mortier, Oropesa and Arzobispo; Victor, Talavera and Toledo;
Sebastiani, La Mancha.
The storm was followed by a lull, for the contesting armies were all
but worn out and required rest. Wellesley made his headquarters
first at Deleytosa, and, when that place was vacated on the 11th, at
Jaraicejo; the Spanish made the former town their headquarters, and the
Portuguese army, under Beresford, withdrew within their home frontier.
“While the army remained in this position,” namely, Deleytosa, General
Sir George T. Napier records: “We suffered dreadfully from want of
food; nothing but a small portion of unground wheat and (when we could
_catch them_) about a quarter of a pound of old goats’ flesh each man;
no salt, bread, or wine; and as the Spaniards had plundered the baggage
of the British army during the battle of Talavera, there was nothing
of any kind to be procured to help us out, such as tea or sugar.”[54]
These defects the General determined to remedy, for “no troops can
serve to any good purpose unless they are regularly fed,” a maxim
equivalent to that of Napoleon that “an army moves on its stomach.”
Cuesta resigned his command, which was given to Eguia, but from
henceforth the British Commander placed his sole reliance on his own
forces. The lack of co-operation in the combined army was also evident
in that of the French, for the various marshals had separated, and, to
Napoleon’s disgust, lost a golden opportunity of crushing the hated
English, which was never again vouchsafed to them. “Force Wellesley
to fight on every possible occasion,” was his frequent cry. “Win if
you can, but lose a battle rather than deliver none. We can afford to
expend three men for every one he loses, and you will thus wear him
out in the end.” Wellesley preferred to conserve his energy, not to
squander it.
After repeated requests for provisions and means of transport, all
more or less evasively answered by the Spanish authorities, Wellesley
carried out his threat and fell back upon the frontiers of Portugal.
Not without a certain suggestion of irony, he was at this time
appointed a Captain-General in the Spanish service, and received six
Andalusian horses “in the name of King Ferdinand the VIIth.” Shortly
afterwards he was notified that he had been elevated to the Peerage,
with the titles of Baron Douro of Wellesley, and Viscount Wellington of
Talavera. From henceforth we shall style him Wellington, a signature he
first adopted on the 16th September 1809.
“Nothing,” he writes from Merida, on the 25th August, to Castlereagh,
“can be worse than the officers of the Spanish army; and it is
extraordinary that when a nation has devoted itself to war, as this
nation has, by the measures it has adopted in the last two years,
so little progress has been made in any one branch of the military
profession by any individual, and that the business of an army should
be so little understood. They are really children in the art of war,
and I cannot say that they do any thing as it ought to be done, with
the exception of running away and assembling again in a state of
nature.” In his opinion the Portuguese, under English officers, were
better than the Spaniards, but both “want the habits and spirit of
soldiers--the habits of command on one side, and of obedience on the
other--mutual confidence between officers and men; and, above all, a
determination in the superiors to obey the spirit of the orders they
receive, let what will be the consequence, and the spirit to tell the
true cause if they do not. In short, the fact is, there is so much
trick in the Portuguese army....”
At the beginning of September he was at Badajoz, on the frontier,
the advantage being, as Wellington says, “that the British army was
centrically posted, in reference to all the objects which the enemy
might have in view; and at any time, by a junction with a Spanish corps
on its right, or a Portuguese or Spanish corps on its left, it could
prevent the enemy from undertaking any thing, excepting with a much
larger force than they could allot to any one object.” Here he heard
that there was a likelihood of Soult attacking Ciudad Rodrigo. This
information he obtained from an intercepted letter to Joseph. “The
success of this scheme,” he avers, “would do them more good, and the
allies more mischief, than any other they could attempt; and it is most
likely of all others to be successful.” For this reason he ordered
Wilson to stay north of the Tagus so as to watch Soult’s movements.
In the middle of the month the Spanish army of Estremadura, stationed
at Deleytosa, was reduced to 6000 soldiers, the remainder, with Eguia,
marching towards La Mancha. About the same time an army of some 13,000
men, under La Romana, whom Wellington describes as “more intelligent
and reasonable” than most of his countrymen, moved from Galicia to
the neighbourhood of Ciudad Rodrigo. La Romana himself proceeded to
Seville and was succeeded by the Duque del Parque, who marched towards
Salamanca.
Wellington watched del Parque’s forward movements with dismay, and
ordered magazines to be prepared upon the Douro and Mondego “to assist
in providing for these vagabonds if they should retire into Portugal,
which I hope they will do, as their only chance of salvation.”
On the 10th October Wellington was at Lisbon to arrange future
operations, and where he studied “on the ground” the possibility of
defending Portugal. This reconnaissance resulted in the defence known
as the “Lines of Torres Vedras,” of which particulars will be given as
the story proceeds.[55]
By the end of the month he was back at Badajoz, writing endless
dispatches relative to the thousand and one concerns--military,
political and financial--of the two armies. By the beginning of
November del Parque was obliged to retire owing to the arrival from
Estremadura of some 36,000 men under Mortier in Old Castile. Eguia’s
entry into La Mancha from Estremadura two months before had been
followed by the arrival of 30,000 of the enemy’s troops under Victor
in that province, whereupon the Spanish commander had withdrawn to the
Sierra Morena, and the French to the Tagus.
The Spanish Government now entertained the hope of gaining the complete
possession of Madrid. Two forces were to be honoured with the carrying
out of this ambitious project. The army of La Mancha, now under the
inexperienced General Areizaga, joined by the greater part of the army
of Estremadura, and consisting of 50,000 men, was to march from the
Sierra Morena. Del Parque, with the army of Galicia, 20,000 strong, was
to take Salamanca and then present himself before the capital. Areizaga
met with some temporary success, but on the 19th November some 4000
of his men were either lying dead or wounded on the bloody field of
Ocaña, within easy distance of Madrid. No fewer than 18,000 were taken
prisoners by King Joseph’s troops. When the distressed General gathered
together the fragments of his shattered army in the Sierra Morena, only
a half of the original number were present, which means that 3000 had
deserted. He must have been sadly deficient in cannon, for the French
had captured over fifty pieces.
Del Parque was scarcely more successful. He was attacked at Tamames
on the 19th October by troops under Marchand, whom he defeated. Thus
encouraged, he advanced to Salamanca, which the French had occupied,
and taken possession of. In the last week of November he was beaten
at Alba de Tormes, to which he had retreated, with a loss of 3000
men. Some of his troops retired on Galicia, the remainder on Ciudad
Rodrigo.[56]
With the object of giving the Spanish Government time to repair their
losses in southern Spain, and surmising that whatever reinforcements
the French might receive would be for use against the British now that
the armies under Blake, Areizaga, and del Parque were scattered,
Wellington prepared to move the greater part of his army north of the
Tagus, towards the frontiers of Castile, but leaving a body of troops
under Lieutenant-General Hill at Abrantes,
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