The Story of Wellington

“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 Oman42 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.

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.