[Illustration: (front cover)]
THE STORY OF
WELLINGTON
_Uniform with this Volume_
THE STORY OF NAPOLEON
By HAROLD F. B. WHEELER,
F.R.Hist.S. With 16 full-page Illustrations.
THE STORY OF NELSON
By HAROLD F. B. WHEELER, F.R.Hist.S. With 16 full-page
Illustrations.
FAMOUS VOYAGES OF THE GREAT DISCOVERERS
By ERIC WOOD. With 16 full-page Illustrations.
THE STORY OF THE CRUSADES
By E. M. WILMOT-BUXTON, F.R.Hist.S. With 16 full-page
Illustrations by M. MEREDITH WILLIAMS.
STORIES OF THE SCOTTISH BORDER
By Mr and Mrs WILLIAM PLATT. With 16 full-page Illustrations
by M. MEREDITH WILLIAMS.
[Illustration: The Duke writing his Waterloo Despatch
_Fr._ Lady Burghersh
]
THE STORY OF
WELLINGTON
_BY_
HAROLD F. B. WHEELER F.R.Hist.S.
MEMBER OF THE HISTORICAL ASSOCIATION
JOINT-AUTHOR OF
‘NAPOLEON AND THE INVASION OF ENGLAND’ ETC.
AUTHOR OF
‘THE MAXIMS OF NAPOLEON’ ‘THE MIND OF NAPOLEON’
‘THE STORY OF NAPOLEON’ AND ‘THE STORY OF NELSON’
‘_For this is England’s greatest son,
He that gain’d a hundred fights,
Nor ever lost an English gun_’
TENNYSON
LONDON
GEORGE G. HARRAP & COMPANY
3 PORTSMOUTH STREET KINGSWAY W.C.
MCMXII
_Illustrations by Ballantyne & Co., Ltd., London_
_Printed by Turnbull & Spears, Edinburgh_
DEDICATED TO
C. ALFRED HAMILTON, ESQ
MY LIFE-LONG FRIEND
“_Vera amicitia sempiterna est_”
Foreword
In this, the last of a trio of volumes dealing with three great
contemporary men of action, I have attempted to tell the story, in its
main lines, of the crowded life of Wellington. The narrative provides
as substantial a view of Wellington as is possible within the limits of
my space, but I hope that readers of my book will be so interested that
they will go on to the perusal of its companions, for the careers of
Napoleon, Nelson, and Wellington should be studied together. They are
the three sides of a triangle of which Napoleon is the base.
The Duke’s career, when compared to the others, is “a plain,
unvarnished tale,” not altogether devoid of romance, certainly not of
adventure, but lacking in many of the qualities which have endeared
less notable men. It would be obviously untrue to state that Wellington
lacked humanity, but he was certainly deficient in that attractive
personal magnetism so evident in Nelson. Speaking broadly, he did not
repose that confidence in his subordinates which was one of the great
sea-captain’s most marked characteristics, and he often said hard
things of the men under him. Nelson is “the darling Hero of England”;
Wellington will always be known as the Iron Duke. If it ever became
the fashion to canonize military and naval men, Nelson’s nimbus would
be of rosemary, Wellington’s of steel. The mob never broke the windows
of Merton Place, but it shattered every exposed pane in Apsley House.
The incident arose from his conscientious opposition to reform, and
occurred in 1831, sixteen years after the battle of Waterloo. A little
over a decade later, an immense mob cheered him as he proceeded up
Constitution Hill. His acknowledgment was to point to the iron shutters
of his house when he reached Hyde Park Corner. They had been put up
after the bombardment by brickbats, and were never taken down during
his lifetime.
In a way, Wellington is the typical John Bull of our fancy. He gloried
in an open-air life, he enjoyed sport, he was a man wedded to duty,
stern and uncompromising once his mind was made up. We love to imagine
that the average Briton displays the same characteristics, although
we know at heart that he does not do so, and that the secret of our
material success as a nation is our extraordinary power of absorption,
of “setting our sail to every passing breeze,” of compromising provided
we get the best of the bargain.
This is how the Duke appeared to a foreigner, the Duchesse de Dino,
Talleyrand’s niece: “He has a very exact memory, and never quotes
incorrectly. He forgets nothing, and exaggerates nothing, and if his
conversation is a little dry and military, it attracts by its fairness
and perfect propriety. His tone is excellent, and no woman has ever
to be on her guard against the turn that the conversation may take.”
In later years Wellington’s memory failed somewhat. He was invariably
precise, always a soldier, and never given to what is generally known
as small talk. In a word, he commanded.
A more intimate and less familiar view of Wellington is afforded us in
the diary of Benjamin Robert Haydon, who painted the Duke’s portrait
at Walmer Castle in the autumn of 1839. During breakfast, he tells us,
“six dear, healthy, noisy children were brought to the windows. ‘Let
them in,’ said the Duke, and in they came, and rushed over to him,
saying, ‘How d’ye do, Duke? How d’ye do, Duke?’ One boy, young Grey,
roared, ‘I want some tea, Duke!’ ‘You shall have it if you promise not
to slop it over me, as you did yesterday.’ Toast and tea were then in
demand. Three got on one side, and three on the other, and he hugged
’em all. Tea was poured out, and I saw little Grey try to slop it over
the Duke’s frock coat. Sir Astley [Cooper] said, ‘You did not expect to
see this.’
“They all then rushed out on the leads, by the cannon, and after
breakfast I saw the Duke romping with the whole of them, and one of
them gave his Grace a tremendous thump. I went round to my bedroom. The
children came to the window, and a dear little black-eyed girl began
romping. I put my head out and said, ‘I’ll catch you.’ Just as I did
this the Duke, who did not see me, put his head out at the door close
to my room, No. 10, which leads to the leads, and said, ‘I’ll catch ye!
Ha, ha, I’ve got ye!’ at which they all ran away. He looked at them and
laughed and went in.”
That is a very human picture of the grim warrior when the sword had
been put aside for ever and the smoke of battle was cleared. “I hit
his grand, upright, manly expression,” Haydon adds. “He looked like an
eagle of the gods who had put on human shape, and had got silvery with
age and service.... His colour was fresh. All the portraits are too
pale.... ’Twas a noble head. I saw nothing of that peculiar expression
of mouth the sculptors give him, bordering on simpering. His colour was
beautiful and fleshy, his lips compressed and energetic.”
From this passive scene in the evening of his days let us turn to the
more stirring days of the storming of Badajoz for our final portrait
of the Duke, for it is in the field that we like to remember him.
The glimpse is afforded us by Robert Blakeney, one of the boy heroes
of the Peninsular War. “I galloped off,” he writes, “to where Lord
Wellington had taken his station: this was easily discerned by means of
two fireballs shot out from the fortress at the commencement of the
attack, which continued to burn brilliantly along the water-cut which
divided the 3rd from the other divisions. Near the end of this channel,
behind a rising mound, were Lord Wellington and his personal staff,
screened from the enemy’s direct fire, but within range of shells. One
of his staff sat down by his side with a candle to enable the general
to read and write all his communications and orders relative to the
passing events. I stood not far from his lordship. But due respect
prevented any of us bystanders from approaching so near as to enable
us to ascertain the import of the reports which he was continually
receiving; yet it was very evident that the information which they
conveyed was far from flattering; and the recall on the bugles was
again and again repeated. But about half-past eleven o’clock an officer
rode up at full speed on a horse covered with foam, and announced the
joyful tidings that General Picton had made a lodgment within the
castle by escalade, and had withdrawn the troops from the trenches to
enable him to maintain his dearly purchased hold. Lord Wellington was
evidently delighted, but exclaimed, ‘What! abandon the trenches?’ and
ordered two regiments of the 5th Division instantly to replace those
withdrawn. I waited to hear no more, but, admiring the prompt genius
which immediately provided for every contingency, I mounted my horse.”
I shall not attempt to enumerate the lengthy list of authorities I
have consulted in writing this volume, but special mention must be
made of Professor Oman’s monumental “History of the Peninsular War,”
which corrects Napier in many important points. Four volumes have now
been published, and I am under obligation to the eminent scholar whose
name appears on the title-pages for his kindness in allowing me to
use without reserve the labour of many years. The “Cambridge Modern
History” (vol. ix.), Rose’s “Napoleon,” Croker’s “Correspondence and
Diaries,” Siborne’s “Waterloo Letters,” the “Lives” of Wellington by
Sir Herbert Maxwell, W. H. Maxwell, Gleig, Hooper, Yonge, and many
others have been laid under contribution, as well as contemporary works
by soldiers who fought with the Iron Duke. As I have endeavoured to let
Wellington speak for himself whenever possible, Gurwood’s “Dispatches”
have been frequently consulted, and for sidelights I have had access
to a large number of volumes of correspondence, autobiography, and
biography in which he plays a part, however insignificant.
Finally, I must express the hope that my readers, as they progress over
the field which I have endeavoured to open up to them, will share the
love of the strong, silent Man of Duty which has grown upon me as I
have become more intimate with the story of his life.
_The path of duty was the way to glory.
His work is done.
But while the races of mankind endure,
Let his great example stand
Colossal, seen of every land._
HAROLD F. B. WHEELER
NORTHWOOD, MIDDLESEX.
Contents
CHAP. PAGE
I. THE FOOL OF THE FAMILY (1769-93) 17
II. WELLINGTON’S BAPTISM OF FIRE (1794-97) 28
III. THE CAMPAIGN OF SERINGAPATAM (1797-1800) 35
IV. WAR WITH THE MARHATTÁS (1801-3) 47
V. LAST YEARS IN INDIA (1803-5) 58
VI. SERVICE IN ENGLAND, IRELAND, AND DENMARK (1805-7) 68
VII. THE FIRST BATTLES OF THE PENINSULAR WAR (1808) 76
VIII. VICTORY ABROAD AND DISPLEASURE AT HOME (1808-9) 90
IX. SIR ARTHUR’S RETURN TO PORTUGAL (1809) 99
X. TALAVERA (1809) 110
XI. WELLESLEY’S DEFENCE OF PORTUGAL (1809-10) 119
XII. THE LINES OF TORRES VEDRAS (1810) 128
XIII. MASSÉNA BEATS A RETREAT (1810-11) 137
XIV. THE SIEGE OF CIUDAD RODRIGO (1811-12) 154
XV. BADAJOZ AND SALAMANCA (1812) 165
XVI. THE CLOSING BATTLES OF THE PENINSULAR WAR (1812-14) 181
XVII. THE PRELUDE TO THE WATERLOO CAMPAIGN (1814-15) 200
XVIII. LIGNY AND QUATRE BRAS (1815) 210
XIX. WATERLOO (1815) 218
XX. WELLINGTON THE STATESMAN (1815-52) 236
INDEX 253
MAPS--
(1) WELLINGTON’S CAMPAIGNS IN INDIA 37
(2) WELLINGTON’S PENINSULAR CAMPAIGNS 77
(3) THE BATTLE OF WATERLOO 219
Illustrations
PAGE
THE DUKE WRITING HIS WATERLOO DISPATCH
(_Lady Burghersh_) _Frontispiece_
ARTHUR AND THE MARQUIS DE PIGNEROL (_George W. Joy_) 20
“THE FULL FORCE OF THE BLAST” (_Thomas Maybank_) 32
“HE WAS HURLED DOWN BY THE DEFENDERS” (_Thomas Maybank_) 54
SIR HARRY SMITH AND THE SPANISH PATRIOT
(_Thomas Maybank_) 82
THE GALLANT PIPER AT VIMIERO (_Thomas Maybank_) 92
“YOU ARE TOO YOUNG, SIR, TO BE KILLED!”
(_Thomas Maybank_) 128
THE RETREAT FROM COIMBRA (_Thomas Maybank_) 138
WELLINGTON AT BADAJOZ CONGRATULATING COLONEL WATSON
(_R. Caton Woodville_) 168
THE END OF BREAKFAST (_Thomas Maybank_) 172
CHARGE OF PAKENHAM’S THIRD DIVISION AT SALAMANCA
(_R. Caton Woodville_) 178
FLIGHT OF THE FRENCH THROUGH VITTORIA (_Robert Hillingford_) 190
THE FRENCH RETREAT OVER THE PYRENEES
(_R. Caton Woodville_) 198
FARM OF MONT ST JEAN }
}
CHÂTEAU OF HOUGOUMONT }
} (_Photographs by C. A. Hamilton_,}
LA BELLE ALLIANCE INN } _Hornsey_) } 222
}
FARM OF LA HAYE SAINTE }
THE DESPERATE STAND OF THE GUARDS AT HOUGOUMONT
(_R. Caton Woodville_) 226
Charge of the Scots Greys at Waterloo
(_R. Caton Woodville_) 234
The Story of Wellington
CHAPTER I
The Fool of the Family
(1769-93)
“_I don’t know what I shall do with my awkward son Arthur._”
LADY MORNINGTON.
Gathering clouds, dark and ominous, obscured the political horizon in
the year 1769. The habitués of London coffee-houses discussed one of
three things--“The Letters of Junius,” the most remarkable series of
political exposures ever penned; the election of the notorious John
Wilkes for Middlesex; and the rebellious conduct of the North American
colonists. On the other side of the Channel the Duc de Choiseul was
skilfully planning ways and means of fanning into a fierce outburst
the flames of discontent now flickering in the West. To heap coals of
fire on the country which, during the Seven Years’ War (1756-63), had
enforced her claims to Canada and India, would be a triumph worthy
of the statesman who had banished the Jesuits from the hereditary
possessions of Louis XV.
Had the people who lived in those stirring times been gifted with the
power of penetrating the future, their eyes would have turned in the
eventful year of 1769 from the larger stages to the comparatively
insignificant islands of Corsica and Ireland, for the former was the
birthplace of Napoleon and the latter of Wellington, and both were born
in 1769.
There are other remarkable coincidences connected with the childhood
of Napoleon and Wellington. Their respective fathers were easy-going,
unpractical men, their mothers were women of marked force of character,
left widows early in life with large families. In addition, the hero of
Austerlitz was the fourth child of Letizia Bonaparte, his conqueror at
Waterloo the fourth son of the Countess of Mornington.
A certain amount of obscurity is associated with their juvenile days.
Although the date of the entrance into the world of “the little
Corporal” is now fairly well established, it was long before historians
ceased to discuss it. There is still much uncertainty as to that of
Wellington. The Duke was always vague on the point, and celebrated
his birthday on the 1st May, which is the day following that on which
he was baptized at St Peter’s, Dublin, presuming the parish register
to be correct.[1] Lady Mornington announced that Arthur was a Mayday
boy, but her nurse as stoutly maintained that the event took place on
the 6th March. Dangan Castle, West Meath, and Mornington House, Marion
Street, Dublin, contest the honour of being his birthplace. The witness
for the country home is the afore-mentioned nurse; a prescription of
the physician who attended Lady Mornington about the period was sent
to a chemist in Ireland’s capital, and attests the claim of the town
mansion. The matter is not of prime importance, but serves to show the
somewhat casual habits of a less practical generation than our own.
The real family name of the Westleys, Wesleys, or Wellesleys--the
different forms were all used--was Colley or Cowley, but the Duke’s
grandfather inherited the estates of his kinsman, Garret Wesley, on
condition that he assumed that surname. He became Baron Mornington in
1747. It was the son of this fortunate individual, also a Garret, who
was created the first Earl of Mornington in the year previous to his
marriage to the eldest daughter of Viscount Dungannon. They became the
parents of the future Duke of Wellington as well as of several other
children.
Of Arthur Wellesley’s scholastic career little can be ascertained
with certainty. We know that he spent a little while at a preparatory
school in Chelsea, then a very different place from what it is now, and
that he and his eldest brother, Lord Wellesley, who had succeeded his
father on his sire’s death in 1781, were at the same house at Eton.
Unfortunately the two rooms which they occupied are now demolished.
While it would be incorrect to call Arthur a dull boy, he certainly
displayed little interest in learning. Indeed, his mother was so
cynical regarding his ability, or want of it, that she called him “the
fool of the family.”
The dictum that Waterloo was won on the playing fields of Eton may have
been true so far as other officers were concerned, but the younger
Wellesley showed not the slightest interest in games. He preferred the
fiddle to cricket, for he inherited his father’s passion for music.
“I was a player on the violin once myself, sir,” he mentioned to an
acquaintance in after years, “but I soon found that fiddling and
soldiering didn’t agree--so I gave it up, sir! I gave it up!” He was a
great admirer of Handel’s compositions.
One precious anecdote regarding his life at the famous public school
has been spared to posterity, and appropriately enough it is a record
of his first serious fight--not with a sword, but with fisticuffs.
Robert Smith, brother of Sydney Smith, the witty divine and essayist,
happened to be bathing in the river when Wellesley was passing.
Prompted by some evil or jocular spirit the latter picked up a handful
of small stones and began to pelt his fellow student. Smith yelled
that he would thrash him if he did not stop. Wellesley defiantly dared
him to do so. The enraged “Bobus” promptly waded out and accepted the
challenge, which he regretted before many rounds had been fought.
Although Wellesley was by no means of a pugnacious disposition, a
second fight, in which he was not victorious, took place during a
holiday spent at the Welsh home of his maternal grandfather, Lord
Dungannon. His opponent was a young blacksmith, named Hughes, who lived
to hear of the mighty exploits of the Iron Duke. He was never tired of
telling how he once conquered the vanquisher of Napoleon. It was his
one title to fame.
[Illustration: Arthur and the Marquis de Pignerol
George W. Joy]
After leaving Eton, Wellesley was taken to Brussels in 1784 by his
mother, who found the many attractions of London society a heavy tax
on a slender purse, for she had removed to the Metropolis on the
death of her husband. As her son seemed to take little or no interest
in anything but the army, and as that service was then considered a
desirable alternative to the Church for the fool of the family, Lady
Mornington accepted the offer of some friends to provide for his
military education. Whatever ability her fourth son displayed seems to
have been less obvious to her than to others, as frequently happens.
“They are all,” she writes with reference to her family, “I think,
endowed with excellent abilities except Arthur, and he would probably
not be wanting, if only there was more energy in his nature; but he is
so wanting in this respect, that I really do not know what to do with
him.” However, the youth whom she described as being “food for powder
and nothing more” was packed across the frontier to Angers. She herself
returned to London in 1785, Wellesley proceeding to the quaint
old town associated with King John of England. Here he had his first
encounter with the French, and there is a celebrated picture showing
him in conversation with the Marquis of Pignerol.
Pignerol, who presided over an Academy, not exclusively devoted to the
training of would-be soldiers as some writers have assumed, was an
engineer officer, and did his best to initiate the Irish lad into some
of the mysteries of the science of war. As his pupil only remained at
Angers for about twelve months, he cannot have learned more than the
rudiments, but he assimilated French with comparative ease. Unlike
Napoleon, who was never happier than when he was poring over military
books at Brienne, Wellesley enjoyed much good society. He made the
acquaintance of the Duc de Brissac, who seems to have been a delightful
foster-father of the scholars, for he frequently entertained them at
his château. The Duc de Praslin, the Abbé Siéyès, later one of the
French Consuls, D’Archambault, Talleyrand’s brother, Jaucourt, who
afterwards became Secretary for Foreign Affairs under Louis XVIII,
were all on his visiting list. It is quite probable that among his
schoolmates was Chateaubriand, destined to fill an honoured place in
the world of letters, but of this, said the Duke, he was not absolutely
certain.
The British army was not then the skilfully organised fighting-machine
it has since become. Entrance into its ranks as an officer was not
difficult, provided one had financial support and influence. This
explains the rapid promotion of Wellesley. At the age of seventeen he
began his military career as an ensign in a Foot regiment, his gazette
being dated the 7th March 1787. Nine months later he was promoted
lieutenant into the 76th. By successive steps he rose to be captain
(1791), major (1793), lieutenant-colonel (1793), and colonel (1796). A
colonel at twenty-seven is beyond the dreams of mortal men to-day, and
this advancement contrasts oddly with the slow progress of Nelson,
Wellesley’s great naval contemporary, who had to depend upon his own
unaided merits for promotion. In 1793, six years following his first
appointment, he was placed in command of the 33rd Foot, after having
experience of the cavalry by serving in both the 12th and 18th Light
Dragoons.
A little influence went a long way in those casual times; there was
nothing so valuable as “a friend at court.” Unlike many aristocratic
nobodies who secured high position, Wellesley afterwards proved his
worth, but he scarcely would have ascended the military ladder with
such astonishing quickness had not his brother Richard held office
under the younger Pitt. Lord Westmorland, Lord-Lieutenant of Ireland,
also took a fancy to him and made him one of his _aides-de-camp_.
In 1790, when he was still in his twenty-first year, he entered the
Irish House of Commons as Member of Parliament for Trim, County Meath,
a “pocket borough” of the Wellesley family. We are told by Sir Jonah
Barrington, who made his acquaintance some three years later, that
the young soldier “was then ruddy-faced and juvenile in appearance,
and popular enough among the young men of his age and station. His
address was unpolished; he occasionally spoke in Parliament, but
not successfully, and never on important subjects; and evinced no
promise of that unparalleled celebrity and splendour which he has
since reached, and whereto intrepidity and decision, good luck, and
great military science have justly combined to elevate him.” The same
authority then proceeds to introduce us to Lord Castlereagh, and adds:
“At the period to which I allude, I feel confident nobody could have
predicted that one of those young gentlemen would become the most
celebrated English general of his era, and the other one of the most
mischievous statesmen and unfortunate ministers that has ever appeared
in modern Europe.[2] However, it is observable that to the personal
intimacy and reciprocal friendship of those two individuals they
mutually owed the extent of their respective elevation and celebrity:
Sir Arthur Wellesley never would have had the chief command in Spain
but for the ministerial manœuvring and aid of Lord Castlereagh; and
Lord Castlereagh never could have stood his ground as a minister, but
for Lord Wellington’s successes.”
Another contemporary tells quite a different story of Wellesley’s
ability, and as he also heard him in 1793 it is printed here in order
that the reader may not be prejudiced by Barrington’s opinion. So
much is determined by the point-of-view of the witness. The occasion
was a debate on the perennial question of the Roman Catholics.
Captain Wellesley’s remarks, we are told, “were terse and pertinent,
his delivery fluent, and his manner unembarrassed.” Gleig, who was
intimately acquainted with the Duke, says that he “seems to have
spoken but rarely, and never at any length. His votes were of course
given in support of the party to which he belonged, but otherwise he
entered very little into the business of the House.” He mentions but
one incident connected with this period, namely, Wellesley’s attachment
to the Hon. Catherine Pakenham, an acknowledged Society beauty and a
daughter of Baron Longford. His Lordship, possessing a keen eye for the
practical affairs of life, objected to the match on the score of lack
of money, but there is little doubt that the couple came to a mutual
understanding.
That Wellesley took more than a casual interest in his military
duties is evident, and if he did not display the inherent genius of
Napoleon he certainly went about his duties in a highly commendable and
workmanlike manner. For instance, he had scarcely donned the uniform
of his first regiment before he entered into calculations regarding
the weight of the accoutrements, ammunition, and other paraphernalia
carried by a private when in marching order. For this purpose he
ordered a soldier to be weighed both with and without his trappings.
“I wished,” he says, “to have some measure of the power of the
individual man compared with the weight he was to carry and the work
he was expected to do. I was not so young as not to know that since I
had undertaken a profession I had better endeavour to understand it.”
He adds, “It must always be kept in mind that the power of the greatest
armies depends upon what the individual soldier is capable of doing
and bearing,” a maxim which still holds good, notwithstanding the many
changes effected in the course of a century and a quarter. However
excellent the gun, it is the man behind it which determines the issue.
It was not until 1794 that Wellesley underwent the hardships of active
service. Before that phase of his career is detailed we must make a
hasty and general survey of the wide and scattered field of action.
The occasion was the second year of the great strife which occupied
the attention of Europe, with little intermittance, for over twenty
years. The gauntlet had been flung down by France in 1792, when war was
declared against the Holy Roman Empire, with which Prussia made common
cause. The campaign was an eye-opener to all Europe, for although
the Prussians and Austrians began well they did not follow up their
advantages, particularly when the road to Châlons and Paris lay open
to the former. At Valmy the Prussians were defeated, and subsequently
withdrew across the frontier in a deplorable condition of dearth and
disease. Dumouriez then invaded Flanders, and was victorious over the
Austrians at Jemappes, a success followed by the fall of Mons, Malines,
Ghent, Brussels, Antwerp, and Namur, while smaller towns, such as
Tournay, Ostend, and Bruges welcomed the victorious troops with open
arms as the heralds of a new era.
In Savoy the scanty Sardinian forces were routed by Montesquiou, and
the country annexed, as was Nice by Anselme. With the dawning of 1793
Belgium shared a similar fate, and the occupation of Dutch territory
was decided on. This latter was an extremely foolish move, as events
soon proved.
England and Holland became involved in the second month of the new
year, when the French Convention announced hostile intentions to
both Powers. Previous to this, Great Britain had maintained a strict
neutrality. She now commenced proceedings by sending 10,000 troops to
Holland under the incompetent Duke of York, where they united with a
similar force of Hessians and Hanoverians, whose expenses were met by
English gold, a plentiful supply of which also found its way into the
coffers of other Powers. The Island Kingdom and Russia had already
allied themselves, although the Czarina’s designs on Poland precluded
immediate co-operation, and during the next few months Sardinia, Spain,
Naples, Prussia, the Holy Roman Empire, and Portugal joined in mutual
support.
Dumouriez duly appeared on Dutch territory, but was compelled to
retreat on Flanders by the defeat of the general engaged in besieging
Maestricht. On resuming offensive operations he himself lost the
battle of Neerwinden. Within a fortnight the French had abandoned all
their conquests in Belgium, which again passed into the possession of
Austria. Dumouriez took refuge in the camp of the Imperialists after
negotiating with Coburg, the commander of the “White Coats,” to place
the frontier fortresses into his hands and to unite the two armies.
Neither arrangement was carried through, for the defeated general
found it more prudent to fly the country.[3] Mayence, on the Rhine,
was invested by the Prussians, to whom it eventually capitulated, and
Valenciennes and Condé were successfully besieged by the Austrians and
British. All three fortresses fell during July 1793.
The tide was beginning to turn even in France, for Toulon and Lyons
openly revolted, and civil war broke out in La Vendée. Had the Allies
made a concerted effort, the defeat of the Republican cause could
scarcely have failed to follow, but they quarrelled amongst themselves
instead of following up their advantage. They squandered their strength
by dividing their army into detachments, and much precious time was
wasted by the diversion on Dunkirk made by the English, Hanoverian,
Hessian, and some of the Austrian forces, about 37,000 strong.
The Revolutionary Government, augmenting its fighting body, instructed
General Houchard to attack the enemy before the historic seaport. As
a sequel to this movement the Duke of York was forced to retreat and
abandon forty guns and much of his baggage. Houchard’s triumph was
short-lived. He met with disaster at the hands of the Austrians, and
paid the price of failure with his head. With the Convention defeat
spelt death. Professing the Cause of Humanity, it refused to be
humanitarian.
By the middle of September all the important fortresses which blockaded
the way of the Allies to the Capital had fallen, with the exception
of Maubeuge. The victory of Jourdan, the successor of Houchard, over
the covering force at Wattignies saved the situation, and on the
17th October the French marched into Maubeuge. On the Upper Rhine
the Allies found themselves in possession of Metz only, at the end
of 1793. In the south-west of Europe the campaign made no further
progress, and the Republican cause gained fresh impetus by the crushing
of the royalist risings at Lyons and Toulon. It will be remembered
that Napoleon won his first laurels in helping to subjugate the great
arsenal in the south of France, and in forcing the withdrawal of the
British fleet under Hood which had gone to support the rebellious
inhabitants.
These facts, dry as dust though they may be, are essential to a correct
understanding of the part played by Wellington in the early days of the
Great War detailed in the following chapter.