Wellington’s Baptism of Fire
(1794-97)
“_I learnt what one ought not to do, and that is always something._”
WELLINGTON.
The pages of military romance teem with references to the disappointed
lover who seeks to assuage his sorrow by active service. In actual
life one doubts whether such things often happen, but it appears that
it was true of Arthur Wellesley. He asked his eldest brother to use
his influence with Pitt to persuade Lord Westmorland to send him “as
major to one of the flank corps,” his own regiment being “the last
for service.” The request was refused, and the young officer had to
wait until May 1794. Orders were then issued for the 33rd to proceed
on foreign service as part of a contingent under Lord Moira which was
urgently required to reinforce the Duke of York.
The Allies had not only experienced a series of defeats, but Prussia
had withdrawn many of her forces on the Rhine for service in Poland,
the dismemberment of which seemed to offer more tangible advantages
than the protracted warfare against “armed opinions.” As a member of
the Holy Roman Empire she had of necessity to supply 20,000 troops--a
mere handful--and she announced her intention of merely fulfilling
this obligation. Again British gold came to the rescue, and Prussia,
by a treaty signed on the 19th April 1794, agreed to keep 62,000 men
at the disposal of the Allies in return for a handsome subsidy. The
unfortunate Austrian general, Mack, was then given command of the new
campaign. The fatal mistake was repeated of dividing the army, with
the result that while the Imperialists under Clerfait were forced to
retreat on Tournay, the Duke of York, aided by Prince Schwartzenberg,
secured an advantage at Troisville. A series of actions around
Tourcoing followed on the 16th to the 18th May, during which his
Highness narrowly escaped being made a prisoner, owing partly to his
having been left isolated by the cutting off of his communications,
and partly to a praiseworthy determination to hold the positions his
troops had gained. At Pont-à-chin, near Tournay, the repeated attempts
of Pichegru to secure the village ended in disaster. On the 26th June
the Austrians, in their endeavour to relieve Charleroi, which had
surrendered to the growing forces of the French under Jourdan a few
hours before, were forced to retreat from the plains of Fleurus. “The
loss of Flanders,” says Alison, “immediately followed a contest which
an enterprizing general would have converted into the most decisive
triumph.” The Duke of York, having sustained a reverse at Oudenarde,
was also retreating, intent upon covering Antwerp and Holland.
Wellesley arrived at Ostend with his regiment in June 1794, from whence
he was sent to Antwerp, on which the Duke of York and the Prince of
Orange shortly afterwards fell back, while Moira marched to Malines.
The Colonel held that his senior officer would have been better advised
had he and his troops proceeded up the Scheldt or the Maes in boats, an
opinion subsequently confirmed by events.
After settling necessary matters Wellesley carried out his instructions
and reached the Duke of York several days before Moira was in touch
with him. It was a moral victory for the young officer, and doubtless
served the very useful purpose of stimulating his ambition.
For three months the Duke of York and the Prince of Orange remained
at Antwerp. The Commander of the Dutch troops then retired towards
the Rhine, and the former moved towards Holland. During the march
General Abercromby was told to secure the village of Boxtel, captured
on the previous evening by one of Pichegru’s divisions. A desperate
affray ensued, and notwithstanding the intrepid bravery of the British
infantry, cavalry, and artillery, it ended in disaster. It is extremely
probable that the entire force would have been annihilated but for
Wellesley’s promptitude in covering the retreat. No opposition was
offered until the British were passing through a wood, when a masked
battery opened fire. A little later there was considerable confusion,
and a body of French Hussars charged forward only to meet Wellesley’s
battalion drawn across the road. They were repulsed, thanks to the
valour of the young commander.
Throughout an extremely severe winter the British were continually
pressed by the ardent Republicans. From October to January 1795
Wellesley held a post on the Waal, and the arduous nature of his duties
is described by him in letters written at the time. “At present,” he
says on the 20th December 1794, “the French keep us in a perpetual
state of alarm; we turn out once, sometimes twice, every night; the
officers and men are harassed to death, and if we are not relieved,
I believe there will be very few of the latter remaining shortly. I
have not had the clothes off my back for a long time, and generally
spend the greatest part of the night upon the bank of the river,
notwithstanding which I have entirely got rid of that disorder which
was near killing me at the close of the summer campaign. Although
the French annoy us much at night, they are very entertaining during
the daytime; they are perpetually chattering with our officers and
soldiers,[4] and dance the _carmagnol_ upon the opposite bank whenever
we desire them; but occasionally the spectators on our side are
interrupted in the middle of a dance by a cannon ball from theirs.”
It is a genial, good-natured message, but Wellesley always held his
feelings well under control. In the above he chose to reveal the
humorous aspect of the long-drawn-out agony. There was plenty to
complain about had he desired. The food supply was deficient; the
wounded had to bear their agonies with the patience of Stoics, because
the stock of medicines ran short; and the general privation was
terrible. A pitiful lack of foresight characterised the whole campaign.
What could be expected of a Commander-in-Chief who gave preference to
the pleasures of the table if a dispatch arrived during a meal, and
contemptuously remarked, “That will keep till the morning”? During the
time of his sojourn on the Waal, Wellesley “only saw once one general
from the headquarters,[5] which was old Sir David Dundas.... We had
letters from England, and I declare that those letters told us more of
what was passing at headquarters than we learnt from the headquarters
ourselves.... It has always been a marvel to me how any of us escaped.”
That “old Sir David Dundas” thought very highly of the young officer’s
conduct is evident. When he succeeded as Commander-in-Chief of the
British forces, on the recall of the Duke of York in the following
December, Wellesley was appointed Brigadier and given command of the
rear guard. By a series of retreats the tattered army eventually
reached Bremen. It embarked for England early in 1795.
In summing up Wellesley’s first experience of field service, Earl
Roberts states that it was, “no doubt, extremely valuable to
Wellington in after years. It must have taught him that soldiers even
of the best quality, well drilled, disciplined and equipped, cannot
hope to be successful unless proper arrangements are made for their
supply and transport; and unless those who direct the operations have
formed some definite plan of action, and have sufficient zeal and
professional knowledge to carry it out. If the French generals had
taken full advantage of the opportunities which the incapacity of the
English and German commanders threw in their way, the British force
must have been annihilated.”
One is inclined to doubt whether the troops were “well drilled,
disciplined and equipped” at this period. The gross incompetence of
many of the highest officers is abundantly proved, and continued lack
of success speedily reduces the vital strength of any regiment.
As already noted, the commissariat was execrable. We have it on the
authority of one who was present that during the retreat hundreds of
invalids succumbed, “whilst the shameful neglect that then pervaded
the medical department, rendered the hospitals nothing better than
slaughter-houses for the wounded and the sick.”
[Illustration: “The full force of the blast”
Thomas Maybank]
Shortly after Wellesley reached England he decided to leave the Army.
The cause is unknown, but it seems highly probable that either his
recent experience had disgusted him with the service as constituted, or
he wished to obtain more remunerative employment so that he might be
in a position to marry the lady of his choice. He also owed money to
his brother, who had made advances for his promotion. This sum could
be repaid by the sale of his commission. Although Wellesley was always
scrupulous in money matters, the reason seems scarcely credible. We
are therefore forced to accept one of the other alternatives, perhaps
both, for mention is made of the miserable state of the Army in
his letter to Lord Camden[6] regarding the desired appointment. He
consulted Mornington on the matter, and it was decided that a position
under the Revenue or Treasury Boards would serve his purpose. “If your
Excellency,” he writes to the Viceroy, “is of opinion that the offices
at these boards are too high for me, of course you will say so; and
as I am convinced that no man is so bad a judge of a claim as he who
makes it, I trust you will not believe that I shall feel otherwise
towards you than as I have always felt, with sentiments of the greatest
regard.... You will probably be surprised at my desiring a civil
instead of a military office. It is certainly a departure from the line
which I prefer, but I see the manner in which the military offices are
filled, and I don’t want to ask you for that which I know you cannot
give me.”
Research has failed to discover what answer, if any, was vouchsafed
this communication. Wellesley remained in the Army. In October 1795
he and his regiment sailed from Southampton as part of an expedition
against the French settlements in the West Indies. The vessels
encountered a terrible gale, still known as “Christian’s Storm,” after
the name of the admiral who commanded the fleet. While it might be
untrue to say that the ships were in an unseaworthy condition, their
sanitary state was deplorable, for they had but recently returned from
a long voyage as hospital and prison transports. Scarcely forty-eight
hours after they had sailed, and when they were off Weymouth, the full
force of the blast struck them. One vessel foundered with all hands,
half-a-dozen or more were totally dismasted, and hundreds of soldiers
went to their death in a battle with the elements against which all the
drill in the world was ineffectual. Fortunately Wellesley escaped, but
when he received orders, in April 1796, to embark his men for India he
was too ill to accompany them. However, he set sail for Calcutta in
June, and overtaking the 33rd Regiment at the Cape of Good Hope, duly
reached his destination in February 1797. “The station is so highly
advantageous to him that I could not advise him to decline it,” says
Lord Mornington.[7] The good-natured Earl little knew what advantage,
both to Wellesley and the Empire, was to accrue as the result of the
failure of his brother’s civil ambitions.