1st Brigade, Hill:

5th (1st batt.) 944

9th ” 761

38th ” 953

---- 2,658

2nd Brigade, Ferguson:

36th 591

40th (1st batt.) 923

71st ” 935

---- 2,449

3rd Brigade, Nightingale:

29th 616

82nd (1st batt.) 904

---- 1,520

4th Brigade, Bowes:

6th (1st batt.) 943

32nd ” 870

---- 1,813

5th Brigade, C. Crawfurd:

45th (1st batt.) 915

91st 917

---- 1,832

6th Brigade, Fane:

50th (1st batt.) 945

60th (5th batt.) 604

95th (2nd batt., four companies) 456

---- 2,005

7th Brigade, Anstruther:

9th (2nd batt.) 633

43rd ” 721

52nd ” 654

97th ” 695

---- 2,703

8th Brigade, Acland:

2nd 731

20th (seven and a half companies) 401

95th (1st batt., two companies) 200

---- 1,332

------

Total British present 16,778

We have also to add the Portuguese of Trant, 2,000 or 2,100 men,

making 18,800 for the whole force.

Napier’s estimate on p. 499 of vol. i. of his _Peninsular War_,

is unfortunately quite inaccurate; he has--

(1) Omitted to deduct from each regiment the losses at Roliça,

474 in all.

(2) Counted the 50th Regiment twice. It had been moved from

Catlin Crawfurd’s to Fane’s brigade the day after Roliça, in

exchange for the 45th. Napier has inserted it, and counted it, in

both places with its 945 men.

(3) Forgotten that Spencer’s artillery, 245 men, had been left

behind for want of horses.

(4) Omitted (very excusably) to note that two and a half

companies of the 20th Regiment were not ashore yet, having

drifted away on a disabled transport, so that the regiment is

given 135 too strong.

There is therefore a total excess of no less than 1,799 British

troops. On the other hand, the Portuguese of Trant are probably

understated by some 350 bayonets.

The French cavalry had been hovering around Vimiero all through the

twentieth, and knowing that Junot was not far off, Sir Arthur had

taken all precautions against being surprised. General Fane, in charge

of the outposts, had pushed pickets of riflemen into the wooded

heights that faced the British position on the northern bank of the

Maceira[221]: vedettes of the 20th Light Dragoons were thrown out three

or four miles to the front, and especially watched the Torres Vedras

road. About midnight they began to hear the approach of the enemy;

the rumbling of his guns and caissons over the wooden bridge of Villa

Facaia travelled for miles through the still night air. In half an

hour Wellesley was warned that the French were drawing near, and sent

the order round all his brigades to be under arms and in line on their

designated position an hour before daybreak[222].

[221] Leach’s _Sketches_, p. 50. He was himself on the line of

pickets, 200 strong, which held the wooded height from which

Junot afterwards viewed the battle.

[222] Napier says that the news was brought ‘by a German officer

of dragoons, who showed some consternation.’ This statement

much offended the news-bearer Landsheit, a sergeant of the 20th

Light Dragoons, not an officer. He has left his protest in his

interesting autobiography, p. 264.

But the enemy was late in appearing: Junot had halted on the near

side of the bridge of Villa Facaia, four miles away, to rest his men

after their night march and to allow them to cook their breakfast.

It was not till nearly nine in the morning that dense clouds of dust

rolling along the Torres Vedras road bore witness to the approach of

the French. They were indistinctly visible, among woods and rolling

upland, as they advanced with a broad front on each side of the village

of Villa Facaia--a regiment of cavalry in front, then Loison on the

left and Delaborde on the right side of the road, finally Kellermann’s

grenadiers, the reserve of artillery, and the bulk of Margaron’s

cavalry. The English were surprised to note that the columns showed

as masses of dust colour, not of the customary dark blue. On account

of the hot weather they had been provided with white linen frocks,

and were wearing their uniform coats folded and buckled over their

knapsacks[223].

[223] Col. Leslie’s _Military Journal_, p. 52.

Wellesley had been expecting to see the great column swerve to its

left, and approach him along the valley of the Maceira, by Cunhados and

Sobreiro Curvo. But instead of so doing Junot continued his progress

northward, till he had completely marched past the English right

wing, and only fronted and deployed when he had got on a level with

Vimiero. After driving off the small pickets of English riflemen who

still lay out in the woods a mile in front of Fane’s brigade[224], the

French began to form a line of battle whose southern end was opposite

Wellesley’s centre. But at the same time the cavalry advance-guard was

noted riding far away to the north, toward Carrasqueira and Praganza,

and it was clear that infantry were following them. Obviously there was

going to be an attempt to turn the English position at its northern

end, on the comparatively gentle slopes along the Lourinhão road.

[224] Col. Leach’s _Sketches_, pp. 50, 51.

Junot after reconnoitring the British position in a somewhat

perfunctory fashion, had resolved to leave alone the formidable heights

occupied by the right wing, and to try to storm the low hill in front

of Vimiero with his main body, while he turned Wellesley’s left with a

secondary column. This detachment was composed of the 3rd provisional

regiment of dragoons, and Brennier’s brigade, the same four battalions

which had fought so handsomely at Roliça. But the moment that Wellesley

had seen that his right flank was safe, and that his left was about

to be attacked, he rapidly changed his line of battle. Ferguson, from

behind Vimiero, started to march north. Behind him followed three of

the four brigades which had occupied the hills above the sea. Only

Hill was still left on the crest to the south-west of Vimiero; Bowes,

Nightingale, and Acland--six battalions in all, taking with them six

guns--dropped down into the valley of the Maceira, crossed it behind

Vimiero, and marched along the Lourinhão road parallel with Brennier’s

movement on the opposite side of the valley. In rear of these troops,

and nearer the sea, Catlin Crawfurd and the Portuguese also moved

northward, and took up a position near Ribamar, where they covered the

flank of the other corps and were in a good position for preventing

any movement of the French on the extreme north-west. Junot caught

a glimpse of the extensive transference of troops to the left which

his adversary was making, and struck with a sudden fear lest Brennier

might be overwhelmed, sent off another brigade--Solignac’s of Loison’s

division--to support him. He would have been much wiser had he kept

these three battalions in hand to support his main attack, and merely

directed Brennier to demonstrate against the British left without

pressing his attack home. His last movement had divided his army into

two halves, separated from each other by a gap of nearly two miles: for

the main attack he had only kept eight and a quarter battalions, three

regiments of cavalry and seventeen guns, while seven battalions, one

regiment of cavalry, and six guns had gone off on the turning movement.

How long their flank march was to be he had not calculated, for, not

discerning the steepness of the ravine at the foot of the British

position, he had not realized that Brennier and Solignac would have to

take a vast sweep to the north in order to cross it. As a matter of

fact they got completely out of touch with him and, what was worse,

with each other. Their diversion did not begin till the main battle was

nearly over[225].

[225] Thiébault (iv. 188, 189) expresses (and with reason) his

wonder that Junot mixed his divisions so hopelessly, and thinks

that it would have been more rational to send Delaborde and his

second brigade after Brennier, instead of breaking up Loison’s

division by taking the supporting brigade from it.

Meanwhile the French general deployed the second brigades of his two

divisions, Charlot’s of Loison’s, and Thomières’ of Delaborde’s, only

four and a quarter battalions in all, as a first line for the attack

on Vimiero. Kellermann’s four battalions of grenadiers in a second

line were for the moment held back, as was the cavalry and the reserve

artillery. But seven guns went forward with the first line. The French

came on in their usual style, a thick line of tirailleurs, supported by

battalion columns close in their rear. Fane and Anstruther were very

comfortably placed for repelling the attack: the latter had drawn up

the 52nd and 97th in line on the slope of the hill, partly hidden by a

dip in the ground and largely covered by vines and brushwood: the 9th

and 43rd were in open column to the rear, ready to act as a reserve.

Fane had got most of the riflemen of the 60th and 95th out in front,

at the foot of the hill, in a very thick skirmishing line: only a few

companies of them were in reserve along with the 50th (the famous

‘dirty half-hundredth’) at the head of the slope. In consequence of the

order which Junot had adopted, Thomières’ two battalions were opposed

to Fane, and Charlot’s brigade to Anstruther on the southern half of

the hill. In each quarter the course of the fight was much the same:

the French tirailleurs pushed up the slope among the brushwood and

vineyards, slowly driving the riflemen before them. Then, as they drew

near the crest, the two English brigadiers suddenly let loose their

formed battalions upon the assailants. There was one fierce volley

from the six guns on the hill top, and then the 97th charged Charlot’s

men in front, while the 52nd swerved round and took them in flank.

One smashing discharge at ten paces blew to pieces the heads of the

columns of the 32nd and 82nd, which crumpled up in hopeless disorder

and rolled down to the foot of the hill, pursued by their assailants. A

few moments later Fane dashed the 50th and the reserve companies of his

rifles against Thomières’ troops, and sent them flying down the slope

in equal disorder. They could not be rallied till they had got out

of musketry range, and the seven guns which they had brought forward

with them were all captured: Delaborde and Charlot were wounded: the

commander of the 82nd was killed[226].

[226] The best narrative of the fight on Vimiero Hill is that in

General Anstruther’s ‘Journal,’ printed in the memoir attached to

Wyld’s _Atlas_: Leach and Rifleman Harris give many interesting

details.

Junot’s first attack had failed, but his spirit was not yet broken: he

called up half his reserve of grenadiers, two battalions under Colonel

St. Clair, and sent them against the hill on the same point, while the

débris of the two wrecked brigades were rallied and pushed forward in

support. Eight guns under Foy (the historian in after-years of the

war), were brought out from the artillery reserve and pushed to the

front. The second attack, however, failed even more disastrously than

the first: the grenadiers, attacking on a narrow front and a single

point, were blown to pieces by the converging fire of the 52nd, the

97th, and Fane’s two rifle battalions, as well as by the battery on

the hill, which having no longer any British skirmishers in front of

it had a free field. It was here, as Wellesley’s dispatches show, that

shrapnell shell, a recent invention of the British colonel of that

name, was first used, and with the most effective results. St. Clair’s

battalions climbed halfway up the hill, but could do no more, and

finally gave way, bearing back with them their half-rallied supports.

The fight was rolling down the slope into the pine-wood at its foot,

when Junot made his last desperate stroke. His only infantry reserve

was now the 1st Regiment of Grenadiers, two battalions under Colonel

Maransin. He resolved to throw them into the fight _pour en finir_,

as he said to his chief of the staff, but they ‘made a finish of it’

in a way very different from his intention. This time the assailants,

led by General Kellermann in person, made not for the front of the

hill, but for the gap between it and the heights to the north, trying

to turn Fane’s flank and to penetrate into the village of Vimiero by

coasting round the foot of the higher ground. There were at first no

troops directly opposed to the column, but soon the grenadiers found

themselves under fire from both flanks. On the southern side Anstruther

took from his reserve the 43rd, which had not yet fired a shot, and

threw it into the cemetery of Vimiero, from whence it descended on the

left flank of the leading battalion of grenadiers. On the northern

side a new force intervened: General Acland on the heights along the

Lourinhão road had been acting as the reserve of Wellesley’s left wing:

he was not needed there, and seeing Kellermann’s attack threatening

to break in between himself and Anstruther, took action on his own

responsibility. Marching a little southward along the ridge, he sent

his two companies of the 95th Rifles, and the light companies of his

two line-battalions to fall on the right flank of the grenadiers. At

the same time he turned upon them the fire of two field-guns which were

in reserve near his brigade.

The double flank attack cost Kellermann many men, and brought his

column to a standstill, but he held his ground for some time, till

the 43rd closed in upon him at the eastern end of Vimiero village.

Both French and English were in great disorder, the houses and

enclosure-walls having broken up their formation. There was a furious

hand-to-hand fight, volleys were interchanged at the distance of five

yards, and both sides used the bayonet freely. At last the grenadiers

gave way and retired sullenly towards their original position: they had

lost many men, but so had the 43rd, who from a weak battalion of 700

men had forty killed and seventy-nine wounded.

All along the line the French were now falling back, and Junot brought

up a regiment of dragoons to cover the retreat of the disordered

masses. Wellesley now resolved to make use of his handful of cavalry:

close behind Vimiero there were drawn up the 240 sabres of the 20th

Light Dragoons, with 260 Portuguese horsemen in two squadrons on their

flanks[227]. ‘Now, Twentieth, now is the time!’ cried Wellesley,

lifting his cocked hat, and Colonel Taylor wheeled his regiment from

behind the sheltering hill and dashed at the retreating Frenchmen.

The two Portuguese squadrons started level with him, but after going

a few hundred yards and receiving a shot or two, they broke, fell

into disorder, and finally galloped to the rear amid the hoots of

Anstruther’s brigade. But the 20th rode at the French dragoons who

stood in their path, burst through them, and then plunged among the

flying infantry, sabring them to right and left and taking many

prisoners. They could not be stayed till they had hewn their way

through the fugitives, to the place where Junot himself sat watching

the rout of his men. The charge had been pushed beyond all reasonable

bounds, for the men were mad with excitement and would not halt. But as

they rode up the French hill they were checked by a stone wall, and at

the same time charged by the two reserve regiments of Margaron’s horse.

It was a wonder that the headstrong troopers were not annihilated, but

the larger part returned in safety to the English lines, leaving behind

them their colonel[228] and twenty men slain, twenty-four wounded, and

eleven prisoners.

[227] All this comes from the narrative, which I have already

utilized in more than one place, of Sergeant Landsheit of the

20th.

[228] Taylor, like the heroic Blake, and like Graham the victor

of Barossa, was one of Oxford’s few fighting men. Every visitor

to Christ Church sees his memorial stone, stating how he had

reformed and disciplined the regiment, when it came home a

skeleton from the West Indies in 1805, and had practically to be

raised anew. Since then it had been in the unfortunate expedition

to Buenos Ayres.

We must now turn to the northern part of the battle-field, where the

main stress of the fighting did not begin till the engagement round

Vimiero was nearly over. This was the result of the reckless way in

which Junot had sent his flanking brigades to attack over unexplored

ground. When Brennier reached the point at which he would naturally

have wheeled inward to climb the slopes along the Lourinhão road,

he came upon the deep and rugged valley of Toledo, the steepness of

whose slopes he did not realize till he had almost reached its brink.

Having guns with him, the French brigadier thought the obstacle

impassable, and turned northward again in a long sweep by the village

of Carrasqueira, the 3rd Dragoons still heading his march. In this wide

flanking movement he passed quite out of sight of the British.

But Solignac, with the second brigade which Junot had told off for

the northern diversion, was not so cautious. He too came upon the

ravine; but instead of turning it he sought out its least precipitous

point and passed it near its head, underneath the farm of Ventosa.

Having crossed, he deployed his three battalions, brought up his right

shoulder, and ascended the gentle slope. By this movement he was

devoting his brigade to destruction. On the hill above he could see

only the thin line of British skirmishers, but hidden behind the crest

was the main body of Wellesley’s right wing, the seven battalions of

Ferguson, Nightingale, and Bowes. They had long watched the approach

of the French, and were lying down in battle order. In front were

Ferguson’s three regiments, the 36th, 40th, and 71st, and one of

Nightingale’s, the 82nd. A couple of hundred yards to the rear was the

second line, the 29th of Nightingale’s brigade, and the 6th and 32nd,

which formed Bowes’ command. Acland and Catlin Crawfurd were a mile

away in different directions, but not too far to have been called in if

necessary.

When Solignac’s men reached the brow of the hill, the four British

battalions in the front line rose up and marched to meet them. Their

long array completely overlapped at both ends the advancing columns

and their screen of light troops[229], At the distance of one hundred

yards all the four regiments directed a converging volley on the

French, which almost swept away the tirailleurs and shook terribly

the supporting masses. Then they reloaded and advanced in silence on

the enemy, who were shouting, firing irregularly, and endeavouring to

deploy, with their officers all in front. For troops in such disorder

the near approach of the majestic two-deep line of 3,300 bayonets

was too much. They wavered and fled northward along the summit of

the ridge, carrying with them their commander, Solignac, desperately

wounded. The British pursued, halting at intervals to pour a volley

into the retreating masses, and picking up on the way many prisoners,

and also the three guns which the enemy had laboriously dragged up the

hill.

[229] There is a good account of this charge in the anonymous

‘T.S.’ of the 71st, p. 50.

The pursuit was stopped by an unexpected development. General Brennier

had heard from afar the heavy musketry fire which told him that his

supporting brigade was engaged. He was now on the summit of the

heights, having at last accomplished his long flank march. Pushing

hastily forward, he came to the edge of a saddle-backed depression in

the ridge, and had the spectacle of the fight at his feet. The 36th

and 40th were engaged in driving the wrecks of Solignac’s men back in

a north-westerly direction, while the 71st and 82nd, halted around

the captured guns, were resting and reforming their ranks. Without

a moment’s hesitation, Brennier threw his four battalions upon the

two regiments that lay beneath him. He had taken them by surprise;

attacked diagonally by fresh troops, and charged by the two squadrons

of dragoons that accompanied the French, they reeled back in some

disorder and abandoned the guns that they had taken. But they rallied

in a moment, and returned to the fight aided by the 29th[230], the

reserve regiment of Nightingale’s brigade. There was heavy firing

for a moment, but very soon Brennier’s troops broke and fled up the

slope which they had just descended. Their flight was covered by the

dragoons, who suffered severely in holding off the pursuers, losing

many officers, among them the young Arrighi, a kinsman of the Bonaparte

family. Brennier was left on the field wounded and a prisoner, and not

only did his men lose the guns which they had just recaptured, but they

also left behind the three which had accompanied their own column.

Their hurried retreat was accelerated by the fire of a half-battery,

brought up from the reserve, which played upon them with effect till

they had plunged down into the ravine and regained their original

position on the opposite heights.

[230] There are clear accounts of this fighting in Col. Leslie’s

autobiography, p. 61, as well as in the narrative of ‘T.S.’ of

the 71st.

All the fighting here had been done by Ferguson’s and Nightingale’s

five battalions. Bowes’ brigade did not fire a shot or lose a man, and

Catlin Crawfurd and the Portuguese were only beginning to approach the

scene of action when Brennier’s column broke up and fled. The main

honours of the fight must be given to the 71st and 82nd, who lost

respectively 112 and 61 men out of the total of 272 casualties suffered

in this part of the action.

Two and a half hours after the battle began the French, both in

the north and the south of the field, were retiring in confusion.

The British were awaiting eagerly the order for a general

advance--especially Ferguson, who, with the 36th and 40th, had got

part of Solignac’s brigade pinned into an angle of the hills, from

which they could not easily escape when attacked. But instead of the

order to advance there came a prohibition to move, and the French were

allowed to withdraw unmolested. The stream of fugitives from Brennier’s

and Solignac’s fight joined that from the centre; then both shook

themselves together and formed up in more or less order on the heights.

The reserve artillery under Hulot and Prost (Foy had been wounded) kept

up a distant and ineffective fire towards the hill of Vimiero, more

to put heart into their own infantry by the noise of their guns than

in any hope of harming the English. Margaron’s cavalry showed a front

behind them, and the two belated battalions from Lisbon, which arrived

about noon, were sent to the front and displayed on the edge of the

heights to make some show of force. But the French would not have stood

a serious attack: every single unit of their infantry had been deeply

engaged and had suffered a thorough defeat. More than half their guns

(thirteen out of twenty-three) had been captured. The cavalry was in

better case, though two of its regiments had suffered severely, yet it

could not by itself have resisted the attack of the victorious British.

A vigorous push would have sent the whole mass reeling backward, not on

Torres Vedras or Lisbon--for these roads would have been barred to them

when Wellesley advanced--but on the rugged path, over the spurs of the

Sierra da Baragueda, which leads to Santarem.

But while the French were striving to rally and to form a new front,

the leaden hand of Sir Harry Burrard was laid upon the British

army. That leisurely person had only landed on the morning of the

twenty-first, and the battle was in full progress before he rode up

from the beach to Vimiero. He had the grace not to interfere with the

movements of troops which Wellesley had already ordered; but when

the victory was won, and his subordinate rode up to him crying, ‘Sir

Harry, now is your time to advance, the enemy is completely beaten, and

we shall be in Lisbon in three days[231],’ he refused to listen. The

army, he said, had done enough for one day, and he intended to wait

for the arrival of Sir John Moore and the division from the Baltic

before making any further move. Greatly disconcerted by this stolid

opposition, Wellesley launched forth into argument: the French army,

as he pointed out, was now so placed that it had lost control of its

line of retreat on Torres Vedras and Lisbon. Hill’s intact brigade,

and those of Fane and Anstruther had but to advance a mile or so, and

the French were irretrievably cut off from their base of operations.

At the same time the five brigades of the left wing, of which those

of Bowes and Crawfurd were absolutely intact, might so hustle and

press the retreating enemy that he could never rally. At this moment

arrived an aide-de-camp from Ferguson, who begged to be allowed to

go on: ‘a column of broken troops 1,500 to 2,000 strong had in their

confusion got into a hollow, and could be cut off from their main

body by a movement in advance of his brigade[232].’ The enemy had

lost all their artillery, were retiring in the utmost confusion, none

of them save the cavalry were regularly formed, and it was his hope

that he might be allowed to continue to go forward. Burrard still

remained obdurate, though Wellesley pointed out to him that he had

nine thousand fresh troops in hand, that every soldier had a day’s

food cooked in his haversack, that the ammunition reserve was ready

to move, and that, with twelve days’ provisions in the camp and an

ample store of munitions, he had it in his power to march forward both

rapidly and with complete security[233]. But all these arguments were

of no effect. The slow and cautious Burrard chose to believe that Junot

might still have a large and intact reserve, that his cavalry was too

dangerous to be meddled with, and that the dispersion of the British

brigades (there were more than three miles between Hill’s extreme

right and Ferguson’s extreme left) would make a general advance a very

dislocated and hazardous business[234]. He utterly refused to listen

to any further discussion, and, as the French were now in full retreat

and disappearing over the eastern horizon, ordered the troops back to

camp. They returned with colours flying and bands playing, dragging the

captured French guns, and with a considerable column of prisoners in

their midst. But every one, from Generals Spencer and Ferguson down to

the youngest private, was utterly puzzled at the tame and inconsequent

end to such a glorious day.

[231] Evidence of Col. Torrens at the Court of Inquiry

(_Proceedings_, p. 127).

[232] Message sent by Ferguson, borne by his aide-de-camp,

Captain Mellish (_Proceedings of the Court of Inquiry_, p. 121).

[233] Evidence before the Court of Inquiry of Wellesley

(_Proceedings_, pp. 116, 117), and of Col. Torrens (p. 127).

[234] Burrard’s account of his own views before the Court of

Inquiry (_Proceedings_, pp. 115, 116, 135).

The losses had been very moderate--four officers and 131 men killed,

thirty-seven officers and 497 men wounded, two officers and forty-nine

men missing. Of the total of 720 no less than 573 were from the ten

battalions of Fane’s, Anstruther’s, and Ferguson’s brigades. Those of

Hill, Bowes, and Catlin Crawfurd did not return a single casualty. The

handful of prisoners were mainly supplied by the 20th Light Dragoons,

and by the two rifle battalions, whose pickets had been driven in

at the commencement of the fight[235]. The French losses were very

different: both Foy and Thiébault acknowledge a total of 1,800, and

this may be taken as a minimum: of these some 300 or 400 were unwounded

prisoners. Delaborde and three brigadier-generals--Charlot, Brennier,

and Solignac--as well as Colonels Foy and Prost of the artillery, were

wounded. Two battalion commanders were killed, a third and the disabled

Brennier were prisoners. Men and officers were alike disheartened:

every single corps present had been engaged: even the squadron of

volunteer cavalry had been in action against Taylor’s dragoons: more

than half the guns had been lost, and the officers who brought back

those that remained asked themselves in wonder how they had ever been

permitted to get away[236]. But at least they were unmolested in their

retreat: using the two battalions that had just come up from Lisbon

as his rearguard, Junot retired unharmed, but full of despair, on

Torres Vedras. It was not till early on the next morning that the last

stragglers of his scattered army drifted in to join the main body.

[235] See table of losses at Vimiero in the Appendix.

[236] _Souvenirs Militaires_ of Hulot, who commanded one of the

two reserve batteries, p. 235: ‘J’étais étonné de ne pas voir

l’ennemi fondre sur mes pièces,’ &c.

SECTION IV: CHAPTER IV

THE CONVENTION OF CINTRA

For only one single day did the incubus of Burrard rest upon the

British army in Portugal, though that day was one on which he succeeded

in changing a decisive victory, which might have laid a whole kingdom

at his feet, into an ordinary successful defensive action. He had

stopped Wellesley’s triumphant march at noon on August 21; early on

the morning of the twenty-second Sir Hew Dalrymple appeared in Maceira

Bay, disembarked, and took over the command. He naturally began his

tenure of control by interviewing his two predecessors, whose divergent

views as to the situation and its requirements were laid before him.

He was an old man, and unpractised in the field: he had only seen

war in the wretched Flanders campaign of 1793-4. His prejudice was

in favour of caution, and he was not slow to let it be seen that he

regarded Wellesley’s actions in the past, and still more his plans

for the future, as rash and hazardous. ‘On the first interview that I

had with Sir Hew Dalrymple,’ said Wellesley at the Court of Inquiry

in the following winter, ‘I had reason to believe that I did not

possess his confidence: nay more, that he was prejudiced against any

opinions which I should give him[237].’ The veteran’s ill-concealed

hostility was, we cannot doubt, mainly due to an unhappy inspiration

of Castlereagh, who had sent him a letter bidding him ‘take Sir Arthur

Wellesley into his particular confidence, as he had been, for a length

of time past, in the closest habits of communication with His Majesty’s

ministers with respect to the affairs of Spain.’ He was also directed

‘to make the most prominent use of him which the rules of the service

would permit[238].’ Such a letter very naturally caused Dalrymple to

look upon the young lieutenant-general as a sort of emissary from the

Government, sent to overrule his plans and curb his full power of

command. He was inclined, consciously or unconsciously, to entertain a

strong prejudice against anything that Wellesley might recommend: and

we cannot doubt that the latter, always stiff and haughty, was at this

moment in a state of suppressed fury at the foiling of his plans by

Burrard on the preceding day. Probably, in his own cold way, he let his

indignation appear, and Dalrymple may have been glad of an excuse for

repressing him.

[237] Wellesley’s evidence at the Court of Inquiry

(_Proceedings_, p. 81).

[238] Castlereagh to Dalrymple, July 15 (_Well. Disp._, iv. 18).

The plan which Wellesley had drawn up for the conduct of the campaign,

and which he now urged upon his chief, is detailed in the proceedings

of the Court of Inquiry. He had hoped to get Sir John Moore’s division,

whose arrival was just reported, sent to Santarem, to cut off any

attempt of Junot to escape out of the Lisbon peninsula by following

the road along the right bank of the Tagus: the Portuguese were to be

brought up to assist. Meanwhile the army which had fought at Vimiero

was to turn the position of Torres Vedras, on which the enemy had

retired, by marching along the sea-coast by the route that leads to

Mafra. If Junot let them march past him, he would infallibly lose

Lisbon; for they could, by forcing the pace, arrive in the capital as

soon as he. If he abandoned Torres Vedras, and fell back on Mafra or

Montechique as soon as he saw them moving, he would have to fight a

second battle on the twenty-third or twenty-fourth, with an army which

had been gravely demoralized by the events of Roliça and Vimiero, and

which could not receive much succour from Lisbon: for the populace of

that city, when apprised of the defeat of the French, would undoubtedly

have burst into insurrection, and would have required for its

repression every man of the 5,000[239] troops who had been left to hold

it down. There was a third possibility, that Junot, on hearing that the

English were marching past his flank, might have hastened from Torres

Vedras to attack their line of march by one of the cross-roads (such

as that from Torres Vedras to Puente de Roll), which cut down to the

Atlantic coast. But Wellesley had convinced himself that this chance

would not occur: he reckoned, very rightly, on the exhaustion of the

enemy on the day after such a crushing blow as Vimiero. As a matter of

fact, on the morning of the twenty-second, at the moment when the head

of the British column, if it had marched, would have been outflanking

their position, Junot and those of his generals who were not _hors de

combat_ were sitting in council of war at Torres Vedras, with despair

in their souls, and resolving to ask for terms on which to evacuate

Portugal. Kellermann was just about to ride in to the English lines

to open negotiations[240]. The idea of an ‘offensive return’ by the

French was in the head of the cautious Burrard[241]: but not in that of

Wellesley, who had made up his mind ‘that they would act in Portugal

as they did in Egypt: they tried their strength once in the field, and

having failed they would have continued to retreat till they could have

got into safety. I do not believe that any corps could have fallen on

the flank of our march on the twenty-third.’ The only course open to

the French, in his opinion, was to throw over any idea of holding the

capital, withdraw its garrison, and cross the Tagus at Saccavem or

Villafranca, or Santarem, by means of the ships which lay in the river,

and the large fleet of barges which is always to be found in and near

Lisbon. Having passed the Tagus they might cut their way through the

insurgents of the Alemtejo, disperse the Spanish levies about Elvas and

Badajoz, and press north through Estremadura to join Bessières[242].

This very idea did for a moment flash through the brains of some

of Junot’s council of war at Torres Vedras: but there lay on their

minds, like a nightmare, the remembrance of their awful march through

the Estremaduran mountains in the preceding autumn. If, journeying

unopposed from Ciudad Rodrigo to Lisbon, they had been nearly starved

in that wilderness, what would be their fate if they had to cut their

way through an insurrection, with the English army hanging on their

heels? The most hopeful could only say that perhaps half the army might

struggle through to Old Castile.

[239] This figure, of course, does not include the garrisons of

the outlying places, but only those immediately in and about

the capital, after the 66th and _compagnies d’élite_ marched to

Torres Vedras.

[240] Hulot, _Mémoires Militaires_, p. 236.

[241] Questions asked of Wellesley by Burrard at the Court of

Inquiry (_Proceedings_, p. 133).

[242] Wellesley to Mr. Stuart, Aug. 25, 1808 (_Well. Disp._, iv.

105); Wellesley’s address at the Court of Inquiry (_Proceedings_,

p. 132).

Wellesley’s arguments to Dalrymple had no further effect than to induce

that general to make up his mind that the troops should march not on

the twenty-second but on the twenty-third, and not on Mafra but on

Torres Vedras. Sir John Moore’s division was to be brought down at

once to Maceira Bay, to join the main army, and not to be sent (as

Wellesley had urged) to Santarem. With the aid of this reinforcement

Dalrymple hoped to be strong enough to force back Junot into Lisbon.

The resolve meant fatal delay: Moore did not begin to disembark till

August 25, and his last men did not get ashore till August 30. On

that day only could Junot have been attacked seriously, and meanwhile

he would have obtained nine days in which to fortify his positions

and to place Lisbon in a thorough state of defence. The consequences

entailed would have been a long siege, the probable devastation of the

Portuguese capital, and the protraction of operations into November and

December. Even then there would still have been Elvas and Almeida to be

recaptured[243].

[243] This is Wellesley’s own view (_Well. Disp._, iv. 121, 184,

185).

But things were not destined to take this course. Dalrymple was busy

drafting his orders for the movement of the next day on Torres Vedras,

when an alarm ran through the camp that the French were at hand, and

the whole force flew to arms. This rumour was caused by the folly of

a Portuguese cavalry officer, whose vedettes had seen French horsemen

in the distance; he imagined an army on the move and reported its

approach. What he had really seen was General Kellermann, with two

squadrons of dragoons as his escort, bearing the white flag, and about

to propose to the British commander-in-chief the evacuation of Portugal

by the French army under a convention.

We have already mentioned the fact that on the early morning of the

twenty-second, Junot had called together at Torres Vedras a council

of war composed of all his surviving generals--Loison, Kellermann,

Delaborde (who attended though suffering from two severe wounds),

Thiébault, the chief of the staff, Taviel, the commander of the

artillery, Col. Vincent, the chief engineer, and Trousset, the chief

commissary at Lisbon. Junot’s spirits were very low: he began by

explaining that he had only fought at Vimiero to save the honour of

the French arms, not because he hoped for victory--a statement which

will not bear investigation in the light of his previous dispatches and

letters[244]. The British, he said, were expecting huge reinforcements

from the sea: Freire was now moving on Obidos, another Portuguese corps

on Santarem: the reports of the state of public opinion in Lisbon were

most alarming. Under these circumstances, ought the army to try the

fortune of battle a second time? And if it must, what plan should be

adopted? If it could not, what alternative remained? When such was

the spirit of the leader, it was easy to foresee the replies of his

subordinates. The army, they soon resolved, had done its best in the

most honourable fashion, but it was not ready for another fight. Indeed

the stragglers had not yet finished pouring into Torres Vedras, and the

wearied rearguard which covered them had only reached the defile in

front of the town two hours after midnight[245]. The army, unmolested

as it was, did not get into fighting trim again till two days after

Vimiero. On the twenty-second it was still in a state of complete

disorganization: if Dalrymple had marched on Mafra he would not have

found a man in his path.

[244] Cf. for Junot’s address, Foy, iv. 341, and Thiébault.

[245] Hulot, _Souvenirs Militaires_, pp. 235, 236.

Having resolved that the army was not ready for another battle, the

council of war had three alternatives before it: to fall back to cover

Lisbon on the positions of Mafra and Montechique; to evacuate Lisbon,

cross the Tagus, and make for Elvas; or to try to negotiate with the

British. The decision was soon made in favour of the third: Lisbon,

without regular fortifications, and swarming with a discontented

populace, would be a mere snare for the army. The retreat via Elvas on

Old Castile would mean the slow but certain destruction of the whole

corps[246]. For it was now known that Joseph Bonaparte had evacuated

Madrid, and that Burgos was probably the nearest point where a French

force was to be found. Not one of the officers present had the heart

to make a serious proposal for such a retreat. It only remained to try

whether Dalrymple was open to receive an offer: if he could be tempted

by the prospect of receiving Lisbon with all its magazines and riches

intact, he might allow the French army to return under safe conduct

to their own land. Kellermann, who could understand English, more or

less, and was considered a skilful diplomatist, was charged with the

negotiations. He rode out of Torres Vedras between ten and eleven in

the morning with his escort, charged with ample powers to treat. As he

passed the rearguard in the pass, four miles outside the town, he told

the officer in command that he was going to visit the English ‘to see

if he could get the army out of the mousetrap[247].’

[246] But it is said that Delaborde urged the possibility of this

move.

[247] Hulot heard this himself. Kellermann said ‘qu’il allait

trouver les Anglais, pour voir à nous tirer de la souricière’ (p.

236).

By two o’clock Kellermann was conferring with the English commander--he

was astonished to find that it was Dalrymple and not Wellesley. The

reception that he met was an agreeable surprise to him. Dalrymple

showed his pleasure at the broaching of the idea of a convention in

the most undisguised fashion. The fact was that he was very glad

to avoid the possible dangers of an immediate advance and a second

fight. He called in Burrard and Wellesley to the interview, and from

his unguarded ‘asides’ to them, Kellermann soon learnt that Moore

had not yet landed, and that till he was ashore Dalrymple did not

feel safe. This gave the Frenchman a confidence which he had not

at first possessed, and he at once assumed an air of self-reliance

which he had been far from showing when he rode out of Torres Vedras.

Instead of merely trying to save the army at all costs, he began to

haggle about details, and to speak about the possibility of resuming

hostilities--the last thing in the world that he really desired[248].

[248] Foy, iv. 344, 345; _Well. Disp._, iv. 108.

There was no doubt that a convention by which Portugal and all its

fortresses could be recovered without the necessity of firing another

shot was an eminently desirable thing. Wellesley did not hesitate a

moment in advising his superiors to take the offer. Burrard had given

away the certainty of recapturing Lisbon yesterday: Dalrymple, by

delaying his advance, had on this very morning sacrificed the second

chance (a much less brilliant one, it must be confessed) of ending

the campaign by a single blow. If Junot’s proposals were rejected and

hostilities were resumed, there lay before the British army either

a siege of Lisbon, which could not fail to ruin the city, or a long

stern-chase after the French, if they should resolve to cross the Tagus

and march off through the Alemtejo. No doubt it would sound better

in the ears of the British public if the surrender or destruction

of Junot’s army could be reported. But as a matter of practical

expediency, the recovery of Lisbon and all its wealth unharmed was

worth far more than the capture of a French army at the cost of much

time, many lives, and the ruin of the Portuguese capital. The loss of

25,000 soldiers would be nothing to Napoleon, who disposed of more than

half a million men: the blow to his pride would be almost as great if

he lost Portugal by a convention as if he lost it by a capitulation. As

a matter of fact he was much incensed at Junot, and would have dealt

hardly with him if Dupont had not drawn off his wrath by failing in an

even more disastrous fashion[249].

[249] See the curious account of the Emperor’s interviews with

Legendre and Thiébault, the chiefs of the staff to Dupont and

Junot, who appeared before him simultaneously at Valladolid

in January, 1809. The imperial thunders played so fiercely on

the army of Andalusia that the army of Portugal got off easily

(Thiébault, iv. 247-9). But Napoleon said that the English

had saved him the pain of crushing an old friend by sending

Dalrymple, Burrard, and Wellesley before a court-martial.

After hearing what Kellermann had to say, the three English generals

withdrew into an inner room, and after a very short discussion agreed

to treat. They told their visitor that he might have a forty-eight

hours’ suspension of hostilities at once, and that they would open

negotiations on the general base that Junot and his army should be

allowed to evacuate Portugal by sea without any of the forms of

capitulation, and be returned to their own country on British ships.

The details would take much discussion: meanwhile they invited

Kellermann to dine with them and to settle the main lines of the

Convention before he returned to his commander. There was a long

post-prandial debate, which showed that on two points there was likely

to be trouble; one was the way in which Siniavin’s Russian fleet in the

Tagus was to be treated: the other was how much the French should be

allowed to carry away with them from Portugal. Kellermann said that he

asked for no more than their ‘military baggage and equipments,’ but he

seemed to have a large idea of what came under these headings[250].

[250] Wellesley at the Court of Inquiry (_Well. Disp._, iv. 189).

Meanwhile the terms of the suspension of hostilities were successfully

drafted; the line of the Zizandre river was to be fixed as that of

demarcation between the two hosts. Neither of them was to occupy

Torres Vedras: Dalrymple undertook to get the armistice recognized by

Freire and the other Portuguese generals in the field. They were not

to advance beyond Leiria and Thomar. The garrisons at Elvas, Almeida,

Peniche, and elsewhere were to be included in the Convention, unless

it should turn out that any of them had surrendered before August

25--which as a matter of fact they had not. The Russian fleet in the

Tagus was to be treated as if in a neutral port. This last clause was

much objected to by Wellesley, who found also several minor points in

the agreement of which he could not approve. But by the directions

of Dalrymple he signed the suspension of arms after a protest; his

superior had told him that it was ‘useless to drive the French to the

wall upon points of form[251].’

[251] Wellesley’s evidence before the Court of Inquiry

(_Proceedings_, p. 83).

The subsequent negotiations for a definite convention occupied seven

days, from August 23 to 30. On the first-named day Junot evacuated

Torres Vedras, according to the stipulations of the agreement made by

Kellermann. He retired to the line of hills behind him, establishing

Loison’s division at Mafra and Delaborde’s at Montechique. Dalrymple,

on the other hand, moved his head quarters forward to Ramalhal, a

position just north of Torres Vedras, and only nine miles from Vimiero.

In this respect he profited less than the French from the suspension

of hostilities: it is true that he got leisure to disembark Moore’s

troops, but Junot gained the much more important advantage of a safe

retreat to a good position, and of leisure to strengthen himself in

it. It must not be supposed, however, that he was in a comfortable

situation; Lisbon was seething with suppressed rebellion. The news of

French victories, which had been published to quiet the people, had

soon been discovered to be nothing more than an impudent fiction. At

any moment an insurrection might have broken out: the garrison and the

mob were alike in a state of extreme nervous tension, which took shape

on the one side in assassinations, and on the other in wanton firing

at every person who approached a sentinel, or refused to stand when

challenged by a patrol.

The negotiations for a definitive convention suffered several checks.

At one moment it seemed likely that the Portuguese army might give

trouble. General Freire arrived at Ramalhal in a state of high wrath,

to protest that he ought to have been made a party to the suspension

of hostilities. There was, as Napier remarks, more plausibility than

real foundation in his objection[252], for his motley army had taken no

part whatever in the operations that had brought Junot to his knees.

But he could make a distinct point when he asked by what authority

Dalrymple had given promises as to his neutrality in the agreement with

Kellermann, or laid down lines which he was not to pass. Freire was

all the bolder because his levies were now being strengthened by the

forces from Oporto which the Bishop had lately raised, while a small

Spanish brigade under the Marquis of Valladares, lent by the Galician

Junta, had come down as far as Guarda. But he contented himself with

protests, without committing any definite act that might have rendered

the Convention impossible.

[252] Napier, i. 225.

A more dangerous source of possible rupture was the view of the

situation taken by Sir Charles Cotton, the admiral in command of the

British blockading squadron off the mouth of the Tagus. As Wellesley

had foreseen, the naval men were determined to secure the possession of

the Russian ships of Siniavin. Cotton refused to entertain the proposal

that such a force should be allowed a free departure from Lisbon, as

if from a neutral port, and should be given a long start before being

pursued. He had held the Russians under blockade for many a weary

month, and was not going to abandon his hold upon them. Why should the

French evacuation of Portugal place Siniavin in a better position than

he had ever occupied before? The admiral declared that he saw no reason

why the Russians should be included in the Convention at all. If there

was going to be any agreement made with them, he should conduct it

himself, treating directly with Siniavin instead of through a French

intermediary.

Sir Hew Dalrymple was forced to report to the French commander these

objections of the admiral. It seemed possible for a moment that the

difficulty would not be got over, and that war must recommence.

Wellesley strongly advised his chief to try the game of bluff--to

announce to Junot that operations would be resumed at the end of the

stipulated forty-eight hours, as Sir Charles Cotton had objected to

the terms of the armistice, but that he was prepared to take into

consideration any new proposals which might be made to him before the

interval of two days expired[253]. Such a firm policy, he thought,

would induce the French to yield the point--all the more because Junot

and Siniavin were known to be on very bad terms. But Dalrymple would

not accept this plan. He merely reported the admiral’s proposals to

Junot, without any intimation that the resumption of hostilities must

result from their rejection. This move placed the power of playing the

game of brag in the Frenchman’s hands. Seeing that Dalrymple did not

seem to desire to break off negotiations, he assumed an indignant tone,

and began to talk of his determination not to concede an inch, and of

the harm that he could do if he were forced to fight. ‘The English

might take away the half-drafted convention: he would have none of it.

He would defend Lisbon street by street: he would burn as much of it as

he could not hold, and it should cost them dear to take from him what

remained[254].’ At the same time he made a final proposal to Siniavin,

that he should put ashore his 6,000 seamen and marines, to take part

in the defence of Lisbon on the land side. This was only part of the

game of bluff, and intended for the benefit of the English rather than

of Siniavin, for Junot knew perfectly well, from the latter’s previous

conduct, that he was bent on playing his own hand, and would not fire a

single shot to help the French.

[253] Evidence of Wellesley before the Court of Inquiry

(_Proceedings_, pp. 87-91).

[254] Foy, iv. 352, and Thiébault.

All Junot’s desperate language was, in fact, no more than a device

to squeeze better terms out of Dalrymple. The actual point on which

the argument grew hot was a mere pretext, for the Russian admiral

utterly refused to assist the French, and intimated that he should

prefer to conclude a separate convention of his own with Sir Charles

Cotton. Clearly it was not worth while for the Duke of Abrantes to risk

anything on behalf of such a torpid ally.

Accordingly the Convention was reduced to a definitive form between

August 27 and 30. Colonel George Murray, the quartermaster-general,

acted as the British negotiator, while Kellermann continued to

represent Junot. The details were settled in Lisbon, where Murray

took up his residence, sending back frequent reports to his superior

officer at Ramalhal. Dalrymple and Cotton carried their point in that

no allusion whatever was made to the Russians in the document. Junot

found a salve for his injured pride by remembering that he had slipped

a mention of Napoleon as ‘Emperor of the French,’ into the text of the

suspension of hostilities[255]: in this he thought that he had won

a great success, for the British Government had hitherto refused to

recognize any such title, and had constantly irritated its adversaries

by alluding to the master of the Continent as ‘General Bonaparte,’ or

the ‘actual head of the French executive.’

[255] Article 1 of the armistice mentioned ‘his Imperial and

Royal Majesty, Napoleon I,’ though this formula did not recur in

the Convention, which only spoke of the ‘French Army.’

The terms of the Convention need close study[256]: it comprised

twenty-two articles and three supplementary paragraphs of addenda. The

first article provided that the French should surrender Lisbon and the

Portuguese fortresses in their existing condition, without harming or

dismantling them. The second and third granted the army of Junot a safe

departure by sea in English vessels: they were not to be considered

prisoners of war, might take their arms and baggage, and were to be

landed at any port between Rochefort and L’Orient. The fourth, fifth,

and sixth articles attempted to define the property which the French

might take away--their horses, their guns of French calibre (but not

any that they might have found in the Portuguese arsenals), with

sixty rounds for each piece, their wagons, their military chest, in

short, ‘all their equipment, and all that is comprehended under the

name of property of the army.’ It was found, later on, that these

paragraphs had been too loosely worded, and gave much endless occasion

for disputes. The next six articles settled the manner in which the

departing army was to embark, and the order in which each of the

strongholds that it evacuated was to be given up to the British.

The thirteenth and fourteenth articles arranged for the appointment

of commissaries by each side, to deal with disputed points in the

Convention, and added the curious clause that ‘where a doubt arose as

to the meaning of any article, it should be explained favourably to the

French army.’

[256] The full text will be found in the Appendix.

But the fifteenth, sixteenth, and seventeenth articles were the most

objectionable part of the Convention. It was true that they secured

that no more taxes or contributions were to be raised by Junot, and

that undischarged fines which he had laid on the Portuguese should be

regarded as cancelled. But they also provided that French civilians in

Portugal might either depart with the army, or, if they preferred it,

might be allowed to remain behind unmolested, and have a year in which

to dispose of their property. This might perhaps pass: not so, however,

the ensuing clause, which provided that Portuguese subjects should not

be rendered accountable for their political conduct during the French

occupation: all who had taken service with the usurping government were

to be placed under the protection of the British, and to suffer no

injury in person or property. They were also to be granted liberty to

depart with the French army if they chose.

The five remaining articles were unimportant. The eighteenth secured

the release of Caraffa and the rest of Junot’s Spanish prisoners,

and provided that in return the few French officers of the army of

Portugal, whom the Spaniards had captured at Oporto and Elvas, should

be liberated. The twenty-first permitted Junot to send one of his

aides-de-camp directly to France to carry the news of the Convention,

so that preparations might be made for the reception of the troops[257].

[257] For the strange way in which Junot utilized this permission

for his personal profit, see page 281.

Three unimportant supplementary articles were added below the

signatures of Murray and Kellermann: one stipulated that French

civilian prisoners in the hands of the English and Portuguese should be

released, another that Junot’s army should subsist on its own magazines

till it embarked, a third that the British should permit the entry of

provisions into Lisbon, now that the Convention had been concluded.

Such was the celebrated agreement which was destined to gain a most

unhappy notoriety in England under the name of the ‘Convention of

Cintra,’ a designation which it is hard to understand, for it was first

sketched at Torres Vedras, and was discussed and ratified at Lisbon.

The only connexion which it had with Cintra was that Dalrymple’s

dispatch to the British Government, enclosing the document in its

latest form, was dated from that pleasant spot in the environs of

Lisbon. But it would perhaps be pedantic to give any other name to such

a well-known document, than that under which it has been known for the

last ninety-three years.

After a careful investigation of the details of this famous agreement,

the conclusion at which the impartial student will probably arrive is

that while on the military side it was justifiable, it presented grave

political faults. In order to recover Lisbon with its arsenals, its

forts and its shipping, all intact, Dalrymple might without serious

blame have granted even more to the French. By the Convention he saved,

not only the wealth of the capital, and the lives of the troops who

must have fallen in storming it, but, most important of all, time. If

he had but known the value of that commodity, he might have been in

Madrid at the head of all his British troops by October 1, or even

earlier. ‘I do not know what Sir Hew proposes to do,’ wrote Wellesley

the morning after the Convention was signed, ‘but if I were in his

situation I would have 20,000 men in Madrid in less than a month

from this day[258]’ But the importance of time was never realized by

the old commander-in-chief: he was superseded long before his army

had even moved up to the Portuguese frontier. Looking, therefore,

at the Convention in the broadest aspect, we hold that its military

advantages entirely outweighed those which might have been secured by

a prolongation of hostilities. But this conclusion does not mean that

there were not points in the military part of the agreement that might

have been modified with advantage.

[258] Wellesley to Mr. Stuart, Sept. 1, 1808 (_Well. Disp._, iv.

121).

It is when we turn to the political section of the Convention that we

light upon grave faults and mistakes on the part of Dalrymple. The

first and foremost was that he signed the document without previously

submitting certain portions of it to the Portuguese government. In

the sixteenth and seventeenth articles the British general took upon

himself to grant certain favours both to French civilians resident in

Portugal, and to Portuguese subjects who had taken service under Junot,

which he had no authority to concede. These were points which concerned

not the British army but the Portuguese civil administration, and

should not have been decided without a consultation with our allies,

and a permission from them to make terms on their behalf. The sixteenth

article allowed Frenchmen resident in Lisbon to remain there for a

year after the Convention, if they did not chose to leave the country

with Junot and his troops. To permit subjects of the hostile power to

remain in Lisbon for so long was, of course, most distasteful to the

Portuguese government, which was naturally desirous of expelling at

once, according to the ordinary customs of war, a body of persons many

of whom had made themselves the partners and instruments of Junot’s

peculations, and who for the next twelve months would serve as spies

and purveyors of intelligence to the French Emperor. Nothing more than

the leave to quit Lisbon in Junot’s wake should have been secured to

them, unless the Junta of Regency gave its consent. The seventeenth

article is even more objectionable: a considerable portion of the

bureaucracy of Portugal had been weak and criminal enough to acquiesce

in the French usurpation, and to make themselves the tools of the Duke

of Abrantes. It was natural that their countrymen should feel deeply

indignant with them; and their lot was likely to be so hard that it was

but rational and humane to give them leave to quit the kingdom. But

considering that they had deserved very ill of the state, it was surely

wrong for the British general to promise to take them under his special

protection, and to guarantee them against injury to their persons or

property. He had no power to grant them an amnesty for their past

ill-doing; that could be given only by the Portuguese government.

When the latter resumed its ordinary functions at Lisbon, it was

absurd that it should be prevented, by the Convention, from taking

into consideration the cases of such of these unpatriotic persons as

it might wish to deal with. When, therefore, Kellermann broached to

Dalrymple the sixteenth and seventeenth articles, the latter should

have refused to accept them without a reference to the Junta at Oporto.

He might have granted both the French and the Portuguese satellites of

Junot a free passage out of Portugal, with such of their goods as they

could carry, but more than this he could not rationally concede on his

own authority.

It was fortunate, therefore, that the practical harm done did not

turn out to be very great. Both the aliens and the natives covered by

these two clauses were so perfectly aware of their own unpopularity

in Lisbon, that they absconded almost _en masse_. The populace of the

capital had given them fair warning of what they might expect, for

not only were they threatened and insulted in the streets whenever

they were out of sight of a French sentry, but unknown hands posted

on the walls lists of houses to be sacked and individuals to be hung

as soon as Junot’s army should have sailed. The watchwords, ‘Death to

the French’ and ‘Death to the traitors,’ were muttered even under the

muzzles of the cannon, which had been trained on all the main streets,

to keep down the insurrection for the few days which had to elapse

before the embarkation. The invaders, therefore, had to take away with

them a very large body of civilian dependants, headed by the Comte de

Novion, a French _émigré_, who, after being hospitably entertained in

Lisbon for many years, had shown his gratitude by accepting the post of

head of Junot’s police--a capacity in which he had much odd business to

transact.

But besides Articles XVI and XVII of the Convention there were other

clauses to which Dalrymple should not have given his assent without

consulting the representatives of his allies. Almeida was being

blockaded by a mass of Portuguese militia, and Elvas, a few days after

the treaty had been signed, was attacked by a Spanish force sent out

from Badajoz by Galluzzo, the Captain-General of Estremadura. No

British soldier had yet been seen within a hundred miles of either

fortress. What was to be done if the generals of the besieging troops

refused to abide by an agreement which they had not been asked to sign,

and which had not even been laid before their respective governments

ere it was definitively ratified? A grave crisis, as we shall find, was

created by Dalrymple’s neglect to foresee this difficulty. His conduct

all through the days of negotiation was very strange; not only did he

make no proper attempt to communicate with the Portuguese authorities,

but he actually left his own government uninformed of his proceedings

for a fortnight. He failed to send them any dispatch to announce

the armistice of August 22, and only forwarded that detailing the

Convention of August 30 on the fourth day of the succeeding month.

Dalrymple’s main reason for leaving the Portuguese out of the

negotiations was that the Junta at Oporto had not yet been formally

recognized as the legitimate government of Portugal[259]. Wellesley,

no doubt, had conferred with the Bishop, given him arms and munitions,

procured from him food and draught animals, and asked his advice, but

the British ministry had not yet acknowledged the existence of any

regular executive in Portugal. This being so, Dalrymple thought himself

justified in acting as if there were none in being; and it cannot be

denied that thereby he saved himself much present trouble, at the cost

of future friction. All, therefore, that he did was to inform the

Junta’s agent at the British head quarters, one Pinto da Souza, that he

was negotiating with Junot for the evacuation of Lisbon, and that he

was open to receive any observations which the Junta might make. The

same announcement was made to Bernardino Freire, who had ridden over

to Ramalhal[260] to complain that he and his army were not mentioned

in the armistice of August 22. Both Freire and the Junta were treated

as persons whose opinions it was useful to obtain, not as constituted

authorities whose consent to the definitive convention was necessary

in order to make it binding. Dalrymple tried to cover himself during

the subsequent inquiry by maintaining that the Convention was purely

military, and concerned the French and English armies alone: but this

plea cannot seriously be put forward in face of Articles XV, XVI, and

XVII, all of which are concerned with problems of civil government,

which would arise after the French army should have embarked. Each

of these articles clearly required the ratification of some proper

Portuguese authority to make it valid.

[259] Dalrymple’s _Memoir of the Affairs of Portugal_, p. 66.

[260] Dalrymple says that he signed the armistice so soon after

landing, and with such an incomplete knowledge of the situation

in Portugal, that he did not know that Freire’s army was anywhere

in his neighbourhood (p. 65).

Both the Bishop of Oporto and General Freire were deeply wounded by the

way in which Dalrymple ignored their status--the prelate more justly

than the soldier, for he had done his best to assist the British army,

while Freire by his captious and impracticable behaviour had been more

of a hindrance than a help. The Bishop charged the representative of

the Supreme Junta in London to complain to the British Government as

to the behaviour of their generals, denouncing not only their neglect

to make the Junta a party to the Convention, but also the terms of

that document, which were stated to be far too favourable to Junot.

Owing to Dalrymple’s extraordinary delay in apprising the ministry

of the details of the treaty, the Bishop’s excited denunciations of

the agreement had currency for nearly a fortnight, before any one in

England knew what exactly had been granted to Junot, or how far the

Junta was justified in its wrath.

SECTION IV: CHAPTER V

THE FRENCH EVACUATE PORTUGAL

The Convention of Cintra being once signed, the difficulties which were

bound to arise from the unwisdom of some of its articles were not long

in showing themselves. Indeed the first fortnight of September turned

out to be a very critical time.

The Portuguese authorities were furious: Dalrymple found the greatest

trouble in preventing the insurgents of the Alemtejo, who had gathered

opposite the mouth of the Tagus under the Conde de Castro Marim[261],

from attacking the French detachments in the forts on the left bank.

Their commander protested against the Convention, and actually appealed

to Admiral Cotton to repudiate it: fortunately he was content to

confine his opposition to words. But there was much more trouble at

Elvas: the Junta of Estremadura did not object to the settlement, and

liberated the French prisoners who were in its hands, according to the

proposal in the eighteenth article. But Galluzzo, the Captain-General

of that province, showed himself much more disobliging. He refused to

call off the troops under his lieutenant De Arce, who were beleaguering

Elvas, and behaved in the most dictatorial manner within Portuguese

territory, raising not only requisitions of food but contributions

of money. He even seized, at Campo Mayor, the military chest of the

Portuguese general Leite, who commanded the wrecks of the force that

had been beaten at Evora by Loison in July[262]. His detestable

behaviour had the good effect of throwing the natives of the country on

the English side, and Leite welcomed the arrival of troops from Lisbon,

which enabled him to protest with effect against the misdoings and

plunderings of the Spaniards. De Arce’s troops were doing no real good:

they only maintained a distant and futile bombardment of the citadel

of La Lippe, in which the garrison of Elvas had taken refuge. The

French commandant, Girod de Novillars, laughed their efforts to scorn,

and refused to listen to the proposals for a capitulation which they

kept pressing upon him. In spite of orders from the Junta of Seville,

bidding him abandon the siege and march for Madrid with his army,

Galluzzo persisted in his ridiculous proceedings till nearly the end

of September. It was only when Dalrymple moved up to the neighbourhood

first the 20th Regiment, and then two whole brigades under Sir John

Hope, that the Captain-General drew off his men and retired into

Spanish territory [September 25]. Then Girod and his garrison, which

was mainly composed of the 4th Swiss Regiment, were able to march to

Lisbon under British escort and embark for France. They did not sail

till October 9, so long had Galluzzo’s freaks delayed them.

[261] Better known, from his court office, as the _Monteiro Mor_,

which answers to our ‘Master of the Horse.’

[262] See Leite’s indignant letters to Dalrymple in Napier, vol.

i. App. xii. De Arce is the real name of the Dearey of whom

Napier speaks on p. 245. Cf. Dalrymple’s _Memoir_, p. 82.

The garrison of Almeida departed about the same time: they had

maintained themselves without difficulty against the Portuguese

insurgents, but duly yielded up the place on the arrival of British

troops. They were marched down to Oporto under an escort of 200 men, a

force so weak that it nearly led to a disaster. For the mob of Oporto,

under the pretext that church plate and other public plunder was being

carried off by the French, fell upon them as they were embarking and

nearly made an end of them. It required all the exertions of the

escort, the Bishop of Oporto, and Sir Robert Wilson--who was then on

the spot organizing his well-known ‘Lusitanian Legion’--to prevent the

populace from boarding the transports and slaying the whole of the

French battalion. The baggage of the departing troops was seized and

plundered, and they barely succeeded in escaping with their lives[263].

[263] Foy, iv. 361, 362; Napier, i. 246, 247. Napier suppresses

the part taken in saving the French by the Bishop and by Wilson,

to neither of whom were his feelings friendly. Foy acknowledges

the services of both. There is a good account of the whole by

Wilson, in his papers at the Record Office.

Meanwhile, long before the garrisons of Elvas and Almeida had been

brought down to the coast, Junot and the main body of his army had

departed. The commander-in-chief himself had sailed on September 13,

the first division of his army on the fifteenth, the rest between

that day and the thirtieth. The last weeks of the French occupation

of Lisbon had been most uncomfortable for all parties concerned.

The populace was seething with discontent, assassinating isolated

soldiers, and threatening a general rising. The French were under

arms day and night, with cannon trained down every street and square.

Unpopular officers, such as Loison, could not stir from their quarters

without a large escort. Sullen at their defeat, and still more angry

at having to abandon the heaps of plunder which they had amassed, the

French were in a most disobliging mood in their dealings with the

Portuguese, and in a less degree with the English. The main source of

irritation was the very necessary measures which had to be taken for

searching the baggage of the departing army. A commission had been

formed, consisting of Kellermann on the one side and General Beresford

and Lord Proby on the other, to settle in all disputed cases what was

military equipment and legitimate personal property, and what was not.

The English commissioners discovered the most astounding hoards of

miscellaneous goods among the bags and boxes of the invaders[264]. The

conduct of most of the French officers, from the commander-in-chief

downwards, was most disgraceful. A few examples may suffice: Junot,

by the twenty-first article of the Convention, had been granted leave

to send a single officer to France with news for the Emperor. This

officer, his aide-de-camp Lagrave, took with him for his general’s

private profit the most valuable set of books in the Royal Library

of Lisbon, fourteen volumes of a manuscript Bible of the fifteenth

century, illustrated with miniatures by the best Florentine artists--a

gift to King Emanuel from one of the Renaissance popes. Junot’s widow

afterwards sold it to the French government for 85,000 francs. Lagrave,

having started before the commissioners had begun to work, got off with

his boxes unsearched. But other interesting items were discovered in

the baggage of the Duke of Abrantes--one was £5,000 worth of indigo in

fifty-three large chests, another was a quantity of valuable specimens

of natural history from the public museum. General Delaborde was found

to be in possession of a large collection of sacred pictures which had

adorned Lisbon churches. Scattered through the baggage of many officers

was a quantity of church plate--apparently part of the property

seized to pay the war contributions which Napoleon had imposed on

Portugal: but it had in some mysterious way passed from public into

private possession[265]. In the military chest were gold bars to the

value of 1,000,000 francs which had come from the same source, but the

paymaster-general tried to get them out of the country without paying

the numerous accounts owed by his department to private individuals in

Lisbon. They were not discharged till this individual, one Thonnellier,

had been put under arrest, and threatened with detention after the

rest of the army should have sailed[266]. Another most scandalous

proceeding discovered by the commissioners was that Junot, after the

signature of the Convention, had broken open the Deposito Publico, the

chest of the Supreme Court of Lisbon, which contained moneys whose

rightful ownership was in dispute between private litigants. He took

from it coin to the value of £25,000, which was only wrung out of

him with the greatest difficulty. Even after a vast amount had been

recovered, the French sailed with a military chest containing pay for

three months ahead for the whole army, though they had entered Portugal

penniless. For a general picture of their behaviour it may suffice to

quote the report of the British commissioners. ‘The conduct of the

French has been marked by the most shameful disregard of honour and

probity, publicly evincing their intention of departing with their

booty, and leaving acknowledged debts unpaid. Finally they only paid

what they were obliged to disgorge.... Unmindful of every tie of

honour or justice, the French army has taken away a considerable sum

in its military chest, still leaving its debts unpaid to a very large

amount[267].’

[264] Napier, with his customary tenderness for French

susceptibilities, has only very general allusions to these

disgraceful peculations. My details are mainly from Thiébault

(iv. 198-200), who frankly confesses everything, and gives many

scandalous particulars. He was, as Napoleon wrote, ‘not delicate

in money matters.’

[265] Cf. Thiébault, Napier, and some curious details given in

the _Annual Register_ for 1808, with Proby and Beresford’s Report.

[266] For previous acts and plans of this shameless person see

Thiébault, iv. 151-3.

[267] Report of General Beresford and Lord Proby to Sir Hew

Dalrymple after the evacuation.

It was no wonder that the resentment of the Portuguese was so great

that the last French who embarked could only get away under the

protection of British bayonets, and that many of those who straggled

or lingered too long in remote corners of the town lost their lives.

The wild fury of the Lisbon mob surprised the British officers who

were charged with the embarkation[268]: they knew little of what had

been going on in the capital for the last nine months, and could not

understand the mad rage displayed against the garrison.

[268] For the tumults and murders at the embarkation see Col.

Leslie’s _Military Journal_, pp. 66-76, and Col. Wilkie’s

_English in Spain_, p. 16.

But finally the last French bayonet disappeared from the streets of

Lisbon, and the populace, with no object left on which to vent their

fury, turned to illuminations, feasts, and the childish delights of

fireworks. They did not show themselves ungrateful to the army of

liberation; all the British officers who have described the first

weeks after the evacuation of Lisbon, bear witness to the enthusiasm

with which they were received, and the good feeling displayed by their

allies[269]. It was only in the highest Portuguese quarters that

dissatisfaction was rampant: the Bishop of Oporto, General Freire, and

the Monteiro Mor, had all suffered what they considered an insult,

when their consent was not asked to the Convention of Cintra, and made

no secret of their anger against Dalrymple. But it does not seem that

their feelings affected any large section of the people.

[269] See Col. Steevens’ _Reminiscences_, pp. 54, 55; Col.

Wilkie, p. 14; Col. Leslie, pp. 65, 66.

The French army embarked for its native soil still 25,747 strong.

It had entered Portugal in the previous November with a strength of

nearly 25,000, and had received during the spring of 1808 some 4,500

recruits: in the month of May, before hostilities began, its full

force had been 26,594[270]. Of this total 20,090 were under arms at

the moment that the Convention was signed, 3,522 were in hospital,

sick or wounded: 916 were prisoners in the hands of the English or the

Portuguese. There remain, therefore, some 4,500 men to be accounted

for: these, however, were not all dead. More than 500 had deserted

and taken service with the British before the embarkation: they

came, almost without exception, from the ranks of the three foreign

battalions which had been serving with Junot, the 1st Hanoverians and

the 2nd and 4th Swiss[271]. As the total force of these corps had been

only 2,548, it is clear that about one man in five deserted. This was

natural in the case of the Germans, who were old subjects of George

III, and most unwilling recruits to the French army, but the equally

well-marked defection of the Swiss is very notable. Most of the

latter were enlisted for the 5th Battalion of the 60th Rifles, while

the Hanoverians joined their countrymen in the ranks of the King’s

German Legion[272]. The real deficit, then, in Junot’s army was about

4,000 men: this represents the total loss of life by the fights of

Roliça and Vimiero, by the numerous combats with the Portuguese, by the

stragglers cut off during the forced marches of July and August, and by

the ordinary mortality in hospital. It must be considered on the whole

a very moderate casualty list: Junot’s corps, when it re-entered Spain

to serve once more under the Emperor, was still 22,000 strong. It would

have been even a trifle higher in numbers if a transport carrying two

companies of the 86th Regiment had not foundered at sea, with the loss

of every man on board.

[270] _Well. Suppl. Disp._, vi. 207 (figures given for May 23),

and Thiébault.

[271] Napier, i. 246; Foy, iv. 363. We have already had occasion

to note the proclivity of the 2nd Swiss to desert. The 4th Swiss,

who had formed the garrison of Elvas, showed exactly the same

tendency.

[272] A table in the _Parliamentary Papers relative to Spain and

Portugal_ shows that the Legion received 163 recruits from this

source. The 5/60th obtained a much larger number, having still

over 200 Swiss with them in 1809.

It is necessary to give some account of the fate of Siniavin’s Russian

squadron, before dismissing the topic of the evacuation of Portugal.

The admiral, as we have already had occasion to state, had steadfastly

refused to throw in his lot with Junot and to join in the Convention

of Cintra. He preferred to make an agreement of his own with Sir

Charles Cotton. It was a simple document of two articles: the first

provided that the nine sail of the line and one frigate, which formed

the Russian fleet, should be given up, sent to England, and ‘held as a

deposit’ by his Britannic majesty, to be restored within six months of

a peace between Great Britain and Russia. The second was to the effect

that Siniavin, his officers and crews, should be sent back to Russia on

English ships without being in any way considered prisoners of war, or

debarred from further service.

Admiral Cotton, it is clear, regarded the ships as important and the

crews as worthy of small attention. It was profitable to Great Britain

to keep down the number of vessels in the power of Napoleon, though now

that the Danish fleet was captured, and the Spanish fleet transferred

to the other side of the balance, there could be no longer any

immediate danger of the French taking the offensive at sea. The easy

terms of release granted to the _personnel_ of the Russian squadron

suggest that the British admiral had determined to reward its commander

for his persistent refusal to help Junot. It almost appears that Cotton

looked upon Siniavin as a secret friend, and treated him accordingly.

Milder terms could hardly have been devised, for the moment that the

harbour-forts of Lisbon were surrendered to the British, the Russians

must obviously be made prisoners, since they could not get out of the

river. It is probable that the two admirals thoroughly understood each

other’s mind, and that the Russian was undisguisedly pleased at the

disaster of his detested French allies.

The most pressing necessity in Portugal, after the French had departed,

was the construction of a new national government, for it was clear

that the Supreme Junta at Oporto represented in reality only the

northern provinces of the realm, and could not be accepted--as its

president, the Bishop, suggested--as a permanent and legitimate

executive for the whole kingdom. Constitutionally speaking, if one

may use such a phrase when dealing with a country like Portugal, the

only body which possessed a clear title of authority was the Council

of Regency, which Prince John had nominated nine months before, on the

eve of his departure for Brazil. But this council had long ceased to

act; its members were dispersed; several had compromised themselves

by submitting to the French and taking office under Junot; and its

composition gave no promise of vigorous action for the future. If a

choice must be made between the Junta at Oporto, which was active and

patriotic, though perhaps too much given up to self-assertion and

intrigue, and the effete old Regency, there could be no doubt that

the former possessed more claims to the confidence of the Portuguese

nation and its English allies. But it was not necessary to adopt

either alternative in full: Wellesley, who had already got a firm

grip upon the outlines of Portuguese politics, advised Dalrymple to

invite the old Regency, with the exception of those members who had

compromised themselves with the French, to reassemble, and to bring

pressure upon them to co-opt to the vacant places the Bishop of Oporto

and the other prominent members of the Junta. This proposal would have

secured legality of form (since the old Regency would theoretically

have continued to exist), while introducing new and vigorous elements

of undoubted patriotism into the body[273]. But Dalrymple preferred to

reinstate, by a proclamation of his own, those members of the Regency

who had never wavered in their allegiance to Prince John [Sept. 18].

He called upon all public bodies and officials in the realm to obey

this reconstituted executive. Here was an undoubted mistake; it was

wounding to Portuguese pride to see the central governing body of

the kingdom created by the edict of an English general: Dalrymple

should surely have allowed the Regents to apprise the nation, by

a proclamation of their own, that they had resumed their former

functions. However, they fell in with Wellesley’s plans so far as

to co-opt the Bishop of Oporto as a colleague, though refusing any

places to the rest of his Junta. The whole body now consisted of

three original members, the Conde de Castro Marim (otherwise known

as the Monteiro Mor), Francisco Da Cunha, and Xavier de Noronha, of

two persons chosen from a list of possible substitutes, which the

Prince-Regent had left behind, Joam de Mendonça and General Miguel

Forjas Coutinho, and of two co-opted members, the Bishop and the Conde

das Minas, an old nobleman who had shown a very determined spirit in

resisting Junot during the days of his power.

[273] Wellesley to Lord Castlereagh, Sept. 9 (_Well. Disp._, iv.

137). In spite of Napier’s denunciation of the Bishop, Wellesley

bears good witness in his favour, e.g. iv. 146.

On the reconstitution of the Regency the Junta of Oporto, with more

self-denial than had been expected, dissolved itself. The minor

juntas in the Algarve, the Alemtejo, and the Tras-os-Montes followed

its example, and Portugal was once more in possession of a single

executive, whose authority was freely recognized throughout the

kingdom. Unfortunately it turned out to be slow, timid, and divided

into cliques which were always at variance with each other.

We have already seen that owing to various causes of delay, of which

Galluzzo’s preposterous proceedings at Elvas were the most prominent,

the last French troops did not quit Portugal till September had

expired, and that Junot himself and the main body of his army had only

begun to leave on the fifteenth of that month. It would have been

impossible for Dalrymple to advance into Spain till the French had left

Lisbon, however urgently his presence might have been required. But it

would perhaps have proved feasible to push forward towards the Spanish

frontier a considerable part of his army, and to make preparations for

the movement of the whole towards Madrid or Salamanca as soon as the

evacuation should be complete. Dalrymple, however, was as leisurely

as the generals of the old days before the Revolutionary War. He kept

his troops cantoned about Lisbon, only pushing forward two brigades

towards Elvas in order to bring Galluzzo to reason, and dispatching

the 6th Regiment as a garrison to Almeida. He seems to have been

quite as much interested in the administration of Portugal as in the

further prosecution of the war in Spain. We find him much busied in

the reconstruction of the Portuguese government and army, reviewing

and rearming the Spanish division of Caraffa before shipping it off

to Catalonia [Sept. 22], and spending a great deal of time over the

redistribution into brigades and divisions of his army, which had now

swelled to something like 35,000 men, by the arrival of Moore’s force

and certain regiments from Madeira, Gibraltar, and England. He was also

engaged in endeavours to organize a proper commissariat for this large

body of men, a hard task, for every brigade arrived in the same state

of destitution as to means of transport as had those which landed with

Wellesley at Mondego Bay on the first of August. But in all his actions

there was evident a want of vigour and of purposeful resource, which

was very distressing to those of his subordinates who were anxious for

a rapid and decisive advance towards the main theatre of war in Spain.

No one felt this more clearly than Wellesley, whose views as to his

commander’s competence had never changed since that hour on the morning

of August 22, when Dalrymple had refused to march on Mafra, and had

decided to delay his advance till the advent of Moore. Since then he

had offered his advice on several points, and had almost always seen it

refused. Dealing with the disputed details of the Convention of Cintra,

he had spoken in favour of meeting the French demands with high-handed

decision: hence he was vexed by Dalrymple’s tendency towards weakness

and compromise. One of his special grievances was that he had been

ordered to sign the armistice of August 22 as representing the British

army, although he had privately protested against its details[274]. His

unofficial letters home during the first half of September are full of

bitter remarks on the weakness of the policy that had been adopted, and

the many faults of the Convention[275]. Seeing that warlike operations

appeared likely to be postponed for an indefinite time, he at last

asked and obtained leave to return to England, after declining in

somewhat acid terms an offer made to him by Dalrymple that he should

go to Madrid, to concert a plan for combined operations with Castaños

and the other Spanish generals. ‘In order to be able to perform the

important part allotted to him,’ he wrote, ‘the person sent should

possess the confidence of those who employ him, and be acquainted with

their plans, the means by which they hope to carry them into execution,

and those by which they intend to enable the Spanish nation to execute

that which will be proposed to them. I certainly cannot consider myself

as possessing these advantages[276].’ Wellesley also refused another

and a less tempting offer of a mission to the Asturias, for the purpose

of seeing what facilities that province would offer as the base of

operations for a British army. He was not a ‘draftsman,’ he wrote, or

a ‘topographical engineer,’ and he could not pretend to describe in

writing the character of such a region. In short he was set on going

home, and would not turn from his purpose. But before leaving Portugal

he wrote two remarkable letters. One was to Sir John Moore, the third

in command of the army, telling him that he regarded him as the right

person to take charge of the British forces in the Peninsula, and would

use every effort with the ministers to get the post secured to him.

‘It is quite impossible that we can go on as we are now constituted:

the commander-in-chief must be changed, and the country and the army

naturally turn their eyes to you as their commander[277].’ The second

and longer was a letter to his patron Castlereagh, in which he laid

down his views as to the general state of the war in Spain, and the way

in which the British army could be best employed. It is a wonderful

document, as he foretells in it all the disasters that were about to

befall the Spaniards from their reckless self-confidence. The only

real fighting-force that they possessed was, he said, the army of

Castaños: the rest, with the possible exception of Blake’s Galicians,

were ‘armies of peasantry,’ which could not be relied upon to meet the

French in the field. Though they might on some occasions fight with

success in their own mountains, ‘yet in others a thousand French with

cavalry and artillery will disperse thousands of them.’ They would not,

and indeed could not, leave their native provinces, and no officer

could calculate upon them for the carrying out of a great combined

operation. How then could the British army of Portugal be best employed

to aid such allies? The only efficient plan, Wellesley concludes, would

be to place it upon the flank and rear of any French advance to Madrid,

by moving it up to the valley of the Douro, and basing it upon Asturias

and Galicia. Posted in the kingdom of Leon, with its ports of supply at

Gihon, Corunna, and Ferrol, it should co-operate with Blake, and hang

upon the right flank of the French army which was forming upon the line

of the Ebro. The result would be to prevent the invaders from moving

forward, even perhaps (here Wellesley erred from ignorance of the

enemy’s numbers) to oblige them to retire towards their own frontier.

But Bonaparte could, unless occupied by the affairs of Central Europe,

increase his armies in Spain to any extent. The moment that he heard

of an English force in the field, he would consider its destruction as

his first object, and so multiply his numbers in the Peninsula that

the British commander would have to give back. ‘There must be a line

of retreat open, and that retreat must be the sea.’ Accordingly, Sir

Arthur recommended that the Asturias should be made the ultimate base,

and the transports and stores sent to its port of Gihon[278].

[274] Wellesley to the Bishop of Oporto, Sept. 6: ‘I was present

during the negotiation of the agreement, and by the desire of the

Commander-in-chief I signed it. But I did not negotiate it, nor

can I in any manner be considered responsible for its contents’

(_Well. Disp._, iv. 134). Wellesley to Castlereagh, Oct. 6: ‘I do

not consider myself responsible in any degree for the terms in

which it was framed, or for any of its provisions.’

[275] Wellesley to Mr. Stuart (_Well. Disp._, iv. 120). To Lord

Castlereagh (iv. 118). To the Duke of Richmond (_Suppl. Disp._,

vi. 129).

[276] Wellesley to Dalrymple _(Well. Disp._, iv. 138).

[277] Wellesley to Moore, Sept. 17, 1808 (_Well. Disp._, p. 142).

Moore, as a noted Whig, was imagined not to be a _persona grata_

at head quarters; Wellesley offers, in the most handsome way, to

endeavour to smooth matters for him.

[278] This letter, written to Castlereagh from Zambujal (_Well.

Disp._, iv. 127-32), is one of the most conclusive proofs of

Wellesley’s military genius. He valued the Spanish armies at

their true force. He foresaw that Bonaparte would make ‘the

driving of the leopard into the sea’ a point of honour, and

would send corps on corps into Spain in order to secure it. He

even noted that the affairs of Central Europe, ‘of which I have

no knowledge whatever,’ would be the only possible reason that

might prevent the Emperor from inundating the Peninsula with his

legions. He saw that the presence of the British in Leon would be

the one thing that would keep the French from subduing Central

Spain: a disaster in the Douro valley was the nightmare of the

Emperor, as half a dozen of his dispatches show. The first news

that Moore was near Valladolid drew Napoleon from Madrid in wild

haste, and deferred for six months the conquest of the valley of

the Guadiana.

This letter was different in its general character from the other

reports which Castlereagh was receiving: most of the correspondents

of the Secretary for War could write of nothing but the enthusiastic

patriotism of the Spaniards and their enormous resources: they spoke

of the French as a dispirited remnant, ready to fly, at the first

attack, behind the line of the Pyrenees. It is therefore greatly to

the credit of Castlereagh that he did not hesitate to pin his faith

upon Wellesley’s intelligence, and to order the execution of the very

plan that he recommended. It was practically carried out in the great

campaign of Sir John Moore, after the collapse of the Spanish armies

had justified every word that Sir Arthur had written about them.

Wellesley sailed from Lisbon on September 20, and reached Plymouth on

October 4. On his arrival in England he was met with news of a very

mixed character. On the one hand he was rejoiced to hear that both

Dalrymple and Burrard had been recalled, and that Sir John Moore had

been placed in command of the British forces in the Peninsula. He

wrote at once to the latter, to say that there could be no greater

satisfaction than to serve under his orders, and that he would return

at once to Spain to join him: ‘he would forward with zeal every wish’

of his new commander[279]. It was also most gratifying to Wellesley to

know that the dispatch of September 25, by which Moore was given the

command of the army of Portugal, directed him to move into Northern

Spain and base himself upon the Asturias and Galicia, the very plan

which formed the main thesis of the document that we have been

discussing. There can be no doubt that Castlereagh had recognized the

strategical and political verities that were embodied in Wellesley’s

letter, and had resolved to adopt the line therein recommended.

[279] Wellesley to Moore, Oct. 8 (_Well. Suppl. Disp._, vi. 150,

151).

SECTION IV: CHAPTER VI

THE COURT OF INQUIRY

There was another and a less pleasant surprise in store for Wellesley

when he landed at Plymouth. He learnt that if he himself disliked the

armistice of August 22, and the Convention of Cintra, the British

public had gone far beyond him, and was in a state of frantic rage

concerning them. To his anger and amazement he also learnt that he

himself was considered no less responsible for the two agreements than

were Dalrymple and Burrard. The fact that the former had told him to

set his signature opposite to that of Kellermann on the document signed

at Vimiero, had misled the world into regarding him as the negotiator

and framer of the armistice. ‘Every whisperer who disliked the name of

Wellesley[280]’--and Sir Arthur’s brother, the Governor-General, had

made it very unpopular in certain quarters--was busy propagating the

story that of the three generals who had lately commanded in Portugal,

each one was as slack and supine as the others.

[280] The Duke of Richmond to Wellesley, Oct. 12, 1808 (_Well.

Suppl. Disp._, vi. 633).

The wave of indignation which swept across England on the receipt of

the news of the Convention of Cintra is, at this distance of time, a

little hard to understand. Successes had not been so plentiful on the

Continent during the last fifteen years, that an agreement which gave

back its liberty to a whole kingdom need have been criticized with

vindictive minuteness. But the news of Baylen had set the public mind

on the look-out for further triumphs, and when the dispatches which

gave an account of Roliça and of Vimiero had come to hand, there had

been a confident expectation that the next news received would be that

Junot’s army had been scattered or captured, and that Lisbon had been

set free. Then came a gap of thirteen days, caused by Dalrymple’s

strange fit of silence. The only intelligence that reached London in

this interval was the Bishop of Oporto’s letter of protest against the

armistice, in which, without giving any definite details about that

agreement, he denounced it as insulting to Portugal and unworthy of

England. The public was prepared, therefore, to hear that something

timid and base had been done, when Dalrymple’s dispatch of September

3, enclosing the Convention of Cintra, came to hand. It was easy to

set forth the terms of that treaty in an odious light. Junot, it was

said, had been beaten in the field, he was completely isolated from all

the other French armies, and his surrender must have followed in a few

days, if the British generals had only chosen to press their advantage.

Instead of this, they preferred to let him return to France with the

whole of his troops, and with most of his plunder. He was not even

compelled to release a corresponding number of British prisoners in

return for the freedom secured to his army. In fact, his position was

much better after than before his defeat at Vimiero, for the Convention

granted him a quiet and safe return home with his force intact, while,

even if he had won some success in battle, the best that he would have

been able to secure himself would have been a retreat on Northern

Spain, through the midst of great dangers. Excitable politicians and

journalists used the most exaggerated language, and compared the

Convention with that of Kloster Seven, and the conduct of the generals

who had not pressed the campaign to its logical end with Admiral Byng’s

shirking before Minorca. Caricatures were issued showing Dalrymple,

Burrard, and Wellesley sporting the white feather, or hanging from

three gibbets as traitors[281]. Nor was Admiral Cotton spared: he was

denounced in bitter terms for taking the Russian ships as ‘deposits,’

when he should have towed them into Spithead as prizes: moreover the

repatriation of the Russian crews was asserted to be a deadly blow at

our unfortunate ally the King of Sweden.

[281] Toreño, then acting as agent for the Asturian Junta in

London, has much interesting information on this point. He saw

the gibbet caricature and papers published with black edges (i.

251).

The rage against the Convention was not confined to any one class or

faction in the state. If some Whigs tried to turn it into the shape of

an attack on the government, there were plenty of Tories who joined in

the cry, begging their leaders in the ministry to dismiss and punish

the three unpopular generals. A number of public meetings were held

with the object of forcing the hands of the Duke of Portland and his

colleagues, but the most prominent part in the agitation was taken

by the Corporation of London. Recalling the old days of Wilkes and

Beckford, they resolved that the Lord Mayor, with a deputation of

Sheriffs, Aldermen, and Common-Councillors, should present a petition

to the King begging him to order ‘an inquiry into this dishonourable

and unprecedented transaction, for the discovery and punishment of

those by whose misconduct and incapacity the cause of the kingdom and

its allies has been so shamelessly sacrificed.’

Accordingly such a petition was laid before the King on October 12.

Its terms are worth a moment’s attention, as they show very clearly

the points on which popular indignation had been concentrated. ‘The

treaty,’ it states, ‘is humiliating and degrading, because after

a signal victory, by which the enemy appears to have been cut off

from all means of succour or escape, we had the sad mortification of

seeing the laurels so nobly acquired torn from the brows of our brave

soldiers, and terms granted to the enemy disgraceful to the British

name.... By this ignominious Convention British ships are to convey to

France the French army and its plunder, where they will be at liberty

immediately to recommence their active operations against us and our

allies. And the full recognition of the title and dignity of Emperor

of France[282], while all mention of the Government of Portugal is

omitted, must be considered as highly disrespectful to the authorities

of that country.’ There was another clause denouncing the sending back

of the Russian sailors, but not so much stress was laid on this point.

Finally the King is asked ‘in justice to the outraged feelings of a

brave, injured, and indignant people, whose blood and treasure have

been thus expended,’ to cause the guilty persons to be punished.

[282] The petitioners ought in fairness to have stated that this

was only made in the document setting forth the armistice, and

not in the definitive Convention.

King George III replied to these flowers of oratory by a short speech

which displays admirably that power of getting an occasional lucid

glimpse of the obvious in which he was by no means deficient. He

was fully sensible, he said, of the loyalty and good intentions of

the City of London, but he wished the deputation to remember that

to pronounce judgement without previous trial and investigation was

hardly consonant with the principles of British justice. He was always

ready to institute an inquiry when the honour of the British arms was

in question: and the interposition of the City of London was not

necessary to induce him to set one on foot in this case, when the hopes

and expectations of the nation had been so much disappointed.

It was not, however, till seventeen days later that his majesty’s

formal orders for the summoning of a Court of Inquiry ‘to investigate

into the late Armistice and Convention concluded in Portugal, and

all the circumstances connected therewith,’ were communicated to

the Commander-in-Chief. Dalrymple and Burrard, both of whom had now

returned to England, were directed to hold themselves in readiness

to present themselves before the court, and Wellesley, for the same

reason, was directed to abandon his project of going back to the

Peninsula in order to serve under Sir John Moore.

The members of the celebrated Court of Inquiry, which commenced its

sittings on November 14, 1808, were seven in number, all general

officers of great respectability and advanced years, men more likely,

for the most part, to sympathize with caution than with daring. The

president was Sir David Dundas, the author of a celebrated drill-book

which had long been the terror of young officers: the other members

were Lord Moira, Lord Heathfield[283], the Earl of Pembroke, and

Generals Craig, Sir G. Nugent, and Nicholls. Not one of them has left

behind a name to be remembered, save indeed Lord Moira, who, as Lord

Rawdon in the old American War, had won the victory of Hobkirk’s Hill,

and who was destined to be the next Viceroy of India and to make the

name of Hastings famous for a second time in the East.

[283] Not, of course, the Eliot who had defended Gibraltar so

well in 1780-3, but his son, the second Lord Heathfield.

The court began its sittings on November 14, and did not terminate

them till December 22. In the great hall of Chelsea Hospital, where

its proceedings were held, there was much warm debate. As the details

of the Campaign of Portugal were gradually worked out, not only by the

cross-examination of Dalrymple, Burrard, and Wellesley, but by that of

many of the other officers of rank who had been in Portugal--Spencer,

Acland, Ferguson, Lord Burghersh, and others--the points on which

the verdict of the court must turn gradually became clear. They were

six in number:--Had Burrard been justified in preventing Wellesley

from pursuing the French at the end of the battle of Vimiero? Had

Dalrymple erred in refusing to take Wellesley’s advice to march on

Mafra the next morning? Should Kellermann’s offer of an armistice

have been accepted on the twenty-second, and, if so, were the terms

granted him too favourable? Lastly, was the Convention of Cintra

itself justifiable under the existing circumstances, and were all

its articles reasonable and proper? Much evidence was produced for

and against each view on every one of these topics. On the first two

Wellesley practically impeached Burrard and Dalrymple for unwarrantable

slackness and timidity. He was so much in love with his own bold plans

that his superior’s caution appeared to him contemptible. He stood up

to them and cross-questioned them with an acidity and a complete want

of deference that seemed very reprehensible to military men steeped in

the old traditions of unquestioning deference to one’s senior officers.

Sir Walter Scott, who followed the inquiry with great interest, called

him ‘a haughty devil,’ but expressed his admiration for him at the

same moment[284]. It is curious to find that Wellesley showed less

anger with Burrard, whose caution on the afternoon of the twenty-first

really wrecked his plan of campaign, than with Dalrymple. The latter

had snubbed him on his first arrival, had persistently refused him

his confidence, and would not state clearly to the court that the

armistice, though it bore Wellesley’s name, had not been drawn up or

approved in detail by him. Of the numerous minor witnesses who were

examined, all who had served at Roliça and Vimiero spoke on Wellesley’s

side: Spencer and Ferguson were especially strong in their statements.

The fact was that they were intensely proud of their two fights, and

looked upon Burrard as the man who had prevented them from entering

Lisbon in triumph after capturing Junot and his whole host. So strong

was this feeling that the brigadiers and field-officers of the eight

brigades that fought at Vimiero had presented Wellesley with a handsome

testimonial--a service of plate worth £1,000--as a sort of mark of

confidence in him, and of protest against those who had stayed his hand.

[284] Lockhart’s _Life of Sir Walter Scott_, ii. 226.

On the other hand, Burrard and Dalrymple urged all the justifications

of caution. Each had arrived at a crisis, the details of which could

not be properly known to him from sheer want of time to master them.

Each acknowledged that Wellesley had vehemently pressed him to strike

boldly and promptly, but thought that he had not been justified in

doing so till he had made out for himself the exact situation of

affairs. Burrard pleaded that Junot might have possessed reserves

unknown to him, which might have changed the fortune of the fight

if a headlong pursuit had been ordered. Wellesley had told him that

none such existed (and this turned out to have been the fact), but he

himself had not seen any clear proof of it at the time[285]. Dalrymple

went even further, and stated that he had considered the whole conduct

of the campaign, from the landing in Mondego Bay till the battle of

Vimiero, terribly rash[286]. If he had permitted the army to march on

Mafra on the twenty-second, the French from Torres Vedras might have

taken him in the flank as he passed through a very difficult country,

and the most disastrous results might have ensued. He was positive

that nothing hazardous ought to have been attempted, and that it was

necessary to wait for Sir John Moore’s division before pressing the

French to extremity.

[285] Burrard before the Court of Inquiry (_Proceedings_, pp.

115, 116, 135).

[286] Dalrymple before the Court of Inquiry (_Well. Disp._, iv.

178, 180, 181).

With regard to the armistice and the Convention, all the three

generals, when defending themselves, agreed that they were wise and

justifiable. To clear the French out of Portugal without further

fighting, and to recover Lisbon and all its resources intact, were

ends so important that it was well worth while to sacrifice even the

practical certainty of capturing all Junot’s army, after a resistance

that might have been long and desperate. But as to the wisdom of

certain clauses and articles, both in the document of August 22 and

that of August 30, there was considerable difference of opinion.

Wellesley proved that he had opposed many details of each agreement,

and that he was in no way responsible for the final shape taken by

them. He only assented to the general proposition that it was right to

let the French army depart under a convention, rather than to force it

to a capitulation. He considered that Dalrymple had yielded far too

much, from his unwillingness to ‘drive Junot into a corner.’

On December 22 the Court of Inquiry issued its report. It was a very

cautious and a rather inconclusive document. But its main point

was that nothing had been done in Portugal which called for the

punishment of any of the parties concerned: ‘On a consideration of

all the circumstances, we most humbly submit our opinion that no

further military proceeding is necessary,’ i.e. there was no ground

for a court-martial on any one of the three British generals. As to

Burrard’s refusal to pursue the French on the afternoon of Vimiero,

there were ‘fair military grounds’ for his decision: the court omitted

to say whether the decision itself was right or wrong. ‘It could not

pronounce with confidence whether or not a pursuit could have been

efficacious.’ As to the halt on the following day, for which Dalrymple

no less than Burrard was responsible, ‘under the extraordinary

circumstances that two new commanding generals arrived from the ocean

and joined the army within the space of twenty-four hours, it is not

surprising that the army was not carried forward until the second

day after the action, from the necessity of the generals becoming

acquainted with the actual state of things, and of their army, and

proceeding accordingly.’ Finally, as to the Convention, ‘howsoever

some of us may differ in our sentiments respecting its fitness in the

relative situation of the two armies, it is our unanimous declaration

that unquestionable zeal and firmness appear to have been exhibited

throughout both by Sir Hew Dalrymple, Sir Harry Burrard, and Sir Arthur

Wellesley.’ There was a special compliment inserted for Wellesley’s

benefit, to the effect that his whole action, from the landing in

Mondego Bay down to the battle of Vimiero, was ‘highly honourable and

successful, and such as might have been expected from a distinguished

officer.’

Such a report amounted to a plain acquittal of all the three

generals, but it left so much unsaid that the Government directed

the Commander-in-Chief to require from the members of the court

their decision as to whether the armistice of the twenty-second and

the Convention of the thirtieth were advisable, and, if they were

advisable, whether their terms were proper, and honourable. On the

twenty-seventh the court returned its answer: there was, this time, no

unanimous report, but a series of written opinions, for the members of

the body differed from each other on many points. As to the armistice,

six members replied that they approved of it, one, but he the most

distinguished of the seven--Lord Moira--said that he did not. On the

question as to the definitive Convention there was more difference

of opinion: Dundas, Lord Heathfield, Craig, and Nugent thought it

fair and reasonable; Lord Moira, the Earl of Pembroke, and Nicholls

considered it as unjustifiable, considering the relative situations of

the two armies. The two last-named officers added short explanatory

notes to their opinions, while Lord Moira subjoined to his a long and

elaborate argument, a document which does not seem in the least to

deserve the slighting reference made to it by Napier[287]. It is very

sensible in its general drift. Lord Moira contended that while on

August 22 there was no reason why an armistice should not have been

concluded, yet the paper drawn up by Kellermann contained clauses

that limited unduly the demands which the British commander might

make in the subsequent Convention. Dalrymple ought, before conceding

them, to have reflected that Junot’s anxious and hurried offer of

terms betokened demoralization. If the French had been pressed, and a

confident and haughty answer returned to their envoy, Junot would have

accepted any conditions that might be imposed upon him. His army was

in such a state of disorder and dismay that it was most unlikely that

he would have tried either to burn Lisbon or to retreat across the

Alemtejo. Moreover, the contention that the deliverance of Portugal

was the one object of the expedition, and that it was duly secured by

the Convention, was a mistake. Lord Moira wished to point out that

our armies were sent forth, not only to emancipate Portugal, but also

to destroy the forces and lower the prestige of France by every means

in their power. By forcing Junot to a capitulation, or by making the

terms of the Convention more stringent, a much greater blow might

have been dealt to Bonaparte’s reputation. As an instance of what

might have been done, he suggested that some remote and inconvenient

landing-place--Belle Isle for example--might have been imposed upon the

French troops, or they might have been compelled to engage not to serve

for some specified time against England and her allies.

[287] He calls it ‘a laboured criticism, which nevertheless left

the pith of the question entirely untouched’ (Napier, i. 249). I

have printed Lord Moira’s plea in an Appendix, to show that it is

well-reasoned and practical.

The Court of Inquiry had thus delivered its last opinion. But the

matter of the Convention was not even yet at an end. The ministry

resolved to inflict a rebuke on Dalrymple, not for his military action,

on which they completely accepted the verdict of the seven generals,

but for his political action in allowing the Articles XV, XVI, and XVII

to be inserted in the Convention. These, it will be remembered, were

the clauses which conceded certain privileges to the French inhabitants

of Lisbon, and to the Portuguese who had compromised themselves by

taking service under Junot. The Duke of York, as commander-in-chief,

was ordered to convey to Dalrymple ‘His Majesty’s disapprobation

of those articles in the Convention in which stipulations were made

affecting the interests and feelings of the Spanish and Portuguese

nations[288].’ It was to be impressed upon Sir Hew that it was most

improper and dangerous to admit into a military convention articles of

such a description, which (especially when carelessly and incautiously

framed) might lead to the most injurious consequences. Furthermore,

Dalrymple was to be gravely censured for his extraordinary delay in not

sending the news of the armistice of the twenty-second till September

3, whereby ‘great public inconvenience’ had been caused.

[288] _The King’s Opinion on the Convention of Cintra_,

paragraphs 4, 5, and 6.

It cannot be denied that these rebukes were well deserved: we have

already pointed out that the three articles to which allusion is

made were the only part of the Convention for which no defence is

possible. It is equally clear that it was the thirteen days’ gap in the

information sent home which gave time for the rise and development of

the unreasoning popular agitation against the whole agreement made with

Junot.

As to the verdict of the court, it does substantial justice to the

case. There existed ‘fair military reasons’ for all that Burrard and

Dalrymple had done, or left undone. In a similar way ‘fair military

reasons’ can be alleged for most of the main slips and errors committed

during any campaign in the Napoleonic War--for Dupont’s stay at

Andujar, or for Murray’s retreat from Tarragona, or for Grouchy’s

operations on June 17 and 18, 1815. It would be unjust to punish old

and respectable generals for mere errors of judgement, and inability

to rise to the height of the situation. Burrard and Dalrymple had

sacrificed the most brilliant possibilities by their torpid caution,

after refusing to listen to Wellesley’s cogent arguments for bold

action. But their conduct had resulted neither from cowardice nor

from deliberate perversity. The blame must rest quite as much on

the government, which had entrusted the expedition to elderly men

unaccustomed to command in the field, as on those men themselves. And

as to the details of the armistice and Convention, we may well accept

Wellesley’s verdict, that the gain secured by the rescue of Lisbon with

all its wealth intact, and by the prompt termination of the campaign,

fully justified the resolve not to drive Junot to extremity.

But there was an unexpressed corollary to the verdict of the court

which the ministry fully realized, and upon which they acted. Burrard

and Dalrymple, with their ‘fair military reasons,’ must never again

appear in the field. It was not by such men that Bonaparte would be

foiled and Spain emancipated, and so they were relegated to home

service and quiet retirement for the rest of their lives. Wellesley,

on the other hand, was marked out as a man of energy, resource, and

determination, eminently fit to be employed again. Within four months

of the termination of the proceedings of the Court of Inquiry he was

once more in command of the British army in the Peninsula[289].

[289] The proceedings terminated Dec. 27, 1808. Wellesley took up

the command at Lisbon on April 25, 1809.

SECTION V

THE STRUGGLE IN CATALONIA

CHAPTER I

DUHESME’S OPERATIONS: FIRST SIEGE OF GERONA (JUNE-JULY, 1808)