YALE UNIVERSITY
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Heroes of the Nations
A Series of Biographical Studies presenting the
lives and work of certain representative histori
cal characters, about whom have gathered the
traditions of the nations to which they belong,
and who have, in the majority of instances, been
accepted as types of the several national ideals.

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Iberoes of tbe tPlationg
EDITED BY
FELLOW OF BALLIOL COLLEGE, OXFORD

FACTA DUCIS V1VENT OPEnOSAQUE
QLORIA RERUM. — OVID, IN LIVIAM, 26S.
THE HERO'S DEEDS AND HARD-WON
FAME SHALL LIVE.

WELLINGTON

THE DUKE OF WELLINGTON.
(After the painting by Sir Thomas Lawrence, P.R.A. Now in the possession of
Lord Bathurst.)
(From a print of a negative owned by Goupil.)

WELLINGTON SOLDIER AND STATESMAN
AND THE REVIVAL OF THE MILITARY POWER
OF ENGLAND

BY
WILLIAM' O'CONNOR MORRIS
SOMETIME SCHOLAR OF ORIEL COLLEGE, OXFORD

¦¦¦<0:r

G. P. PUTNAM'S SONS
NEW YORK LONDON
27 WEST TWENTY-THIRD STREET 24 BEDFORD STREET, STRAND
SCljt Jtmthttbothtr ^rtss
1904

Copyright, 1904
BY
G. P. PUTNAM'S SONS

Published, September, 1904

By94

Ube 'Rniclierbocliec press, mew Uorfi

PREFACE
IN the case of Wellington, as in that of Napoleon,
the correspondence of the great soldier and
statesman contains the fullest and best record
of his life and career. That correspondence falls
into two parts : the exclusively military despatches
edited by Gurwood, and the supplementary and civil
despatches, edited by the eldest son of WeUington,
the second Duke. This immense collection of
papers, which contains almost innumerable accounts
of military events and of affairs of State, and mem
oranda on India, on the Peninsular War, on the
Congress of Vienna, onthe Campaign of 1815, on the
Army of Occupation, and on Continental and Brit
ish politics, during nearly half a century, distinctly
shows us what Wellington was as a general, a mili
tary administrator, and an illustrious public servant ;
we can gather from it the best estimate that can be
formed of his nature and character. But the general
reader would be lost in this mighty maze, if it is
not without a plan ; he properly looks to large con
densation and abridgment, and, besides, recourse
must be had to other sources of information, in
order fully to comprehend what Wellington was in
the field, in Council, in the Cabinet, and in public

vi Preface
and private life. A " selection " from the military
despatches has been made by Gurwood : it is of
considerable value, and has often been referred to
in this volume.
For Wellington's exploits and career in India, in
addition to his own correspondence, the reader may
consult the Lives of Lord Harris and of Sir David
Baird, and especially the despatches of Lord Welles
ley, which are of the very greatest importance. The
different histories of India, relating to this period,
may also be perused.
The authorities on the Peninsular War are numer
ous, and some of sterling value. The correspondence
of Napoleon should be compared at every point of the
contest with that of Wellington ; the difference be
tween the direction of military operations at a distance
and on the spot has seldom been so conspicuously
made manifest. Napier's History of the Peninsular
War is a well-known classic, but the brilliant and
self-opinionated soldier is far from just to the British
Government of the day ; he is almost a blind idolater
of Napoleon, and he is far too much an eulogist
of Soult. Mr. Oman's new History of the Penin
sular War as yet has only reached the end of the
Campaign of 1809, but when complete it promises
to be a work of remarkable merit ; it is especially
useful in its descriptions of the topography of Portu
gal and Spain, and of the natural characteristics of
those lands, as bearing upon the military operations
which took place ; the research of the author is very
commendable ; his views are usually discriminating
and just. On the French side, Foy's Guerre de la

Preface vii
Peninsule is only a fragment, but it gives us many
details of interest ; its account of the organisation
and the qualities of the French and the British arm
ies, if not without pardonable national bias, is in
structive, even striking. Hardly any of the French
commanders have left us much that is profitable
on the Peninsular War ; but the Memoirs of King
Joseph and of Marshal Jourdan deserve attention ;
Marmont has explained tolerably well the Campaign
of Salamanca and the battle ; Koch's account of
Massena's campaign in Portugal has real merit ; and
information may be gathered from the Memoirs of
Marbot and Thidbault. For general histories, Alison
and Thiers may be consulted ; the sieges in the
Peninsula have been described by Jones and Belmas.
The literature of the Waterloo campaign fills a
library, but it is unnecessary to enlarge upon it here.
Napoleon's account in his Commentaries is very
incorrect, and in places disingenuous, but it traces
the main incidents of this passage of arms with
characteristic superiority of insight : the tendency of
history is to confirm the views of the Emperor. I
pass by a great collection of authorities, largely ob
solete and now not of much value, and shall only
refer to two works, recently published, the Cam
paign of Waterloo by the late Mr. Ropes, and
i8i^ by M. H. Houssaye. These narratives are
fully up to date, and abound in admirable comments
and reflections ; they are, in the main, candid and im
partial. I may also notice my own Campaign of
1815 which has been received with more than
ordinary favour.

viii Preface
By far the best account of the political career of
Wellington can be collected from the Memoirs
of Greville, the English St. Simon. Much, too, can
be learned from the correspondence of Peel, edited
by Parker, from debates in Parliament, and from
contemporaneous histories.
The biographies of Wellington are not numerous,
or of remarkable merit. That of Brialmont is, I
think, the best ; the work of Sir Herbert Maxwell
contains some very valuable papers taken from
family archives and correspondence.
WiLUAM O'Connor Morris.
26th November, 1903.
The last proofs of this volume had been passed for the press
before the author's death, an event which will be regretted by all
students of the Napoleonic period. The index was to have been
made by Judge O'Connor Morris ; but failing health prevented him
even from commencing this task, and it has consequently been exe
cuted by another hand. The present volume may be regarded as
complementary to the author's earlier study on Napoleon, than which
few works in this series have enjoyed a wider popularity. Welling
ton is here treated mainly as a soldier ; and, in teUing the story of
his life, the author has taken the opportunity of discussing a number
of disputed questions in the history of the Peninsular and Waterloo
campaigns. The Judge's wide acquaintance with the memoirs and
papers of the leaders on both sides led him to conclusions which,
although they have been challenged by some high authorities, de
serve the attention due to acute independent study of the original
sources of information.
Oxford, Sept. i, 1904. H. W. C. Davis.

CONTENTS CHAPTER I
PAGE
EARLY YEARS ........ I
Birth and family of Wellington — The Wellesleys or Wes
leys in Ireland — Arthur Wesley, his boyhood — He is sent
to Eton and Angers — He enters the army — His attention to
his military duties, and his studies — He is placed on the
staff of Lord Westmoreland, the Lord Lieutenant of Ire
land — He seconds the address in the Irish Parliament —
The Catholic Relief Bill of 1793— He distinguishes himself
in the campaign of 1794 in Holland, but seeks to leave the
army. CHAPTER II
CAREER IN INDIA ....... 14
Wesley fails to get a post in the Civil Service — He is pre
vented from going in an expedition to the West Indies — He
is sent with the 33rd to India — His memorandum on mili
tary affairs, the first instance of his sagacious views on this
subject — Lord Mornington made Governor-General — The
two brothers in India — State of our Empire and of the
Company at this conjuncture — The name of Wesley changed
back to that of Wellesley — Operations against Tippoo
Sahib — Arthur Wellesley, as a rule, on the side of peace —
His failure at an outpost — Fall of Seringapatam— Settle
ment of Mysore — Wellesley made Governor — His adminis
tration — Defeat of Dhoondiah Waugh — Baird sent to Egypt
instead of Wellesley — The Mahratta War — Assaye, great

X Contents
PAGE
ability shown by Wellesley in the battle— Lord Lake's
operations — Defeat of Monson — Wellesley leaves India for
England. CHAPTER III
IRELAND — COPENHAGEN — VIMIERO . . . -43
Wellesley at St. Helena— He is consulted by Pitt — His
interview with Nelson — He enters the House of Commons,
and is made Chief Secretary for Ireland, under the Duke
of Richmond — State of Ireland in 1807-1808 — Wellesley's
marriage — His policy and conduct when Chief Secretary —
He commands a division at the siege of Copenhagen —
Napoleon's designs against the Iberian Peninsula — March
of Junot on Lisbon — Napoleon extorts the crown of Spain
from the Spanish Bourbons — Great national rising of Spain
— Reverses of the French — Baylen — The British Govern
ment interferes — Rising of Portugal — Wellesley lands at
Mondego Bay — Burrard — Dalrymple — Wellesley's plan of
operations — Rolica — Vimiero — Defeat of Junot — The con
vention of Cintra — The Court of Inquiry.
CHAPTER IV
THE DOURO — TALAVERA ...... 70
Napoleon's authority on the Continent weakened after Bay
len and Vimiero — He persists in his purpose to conquer
Spain and Portugal — His interview with the Czar at Erfurth
— England rejects their overtures and continues the war —
Moore at Lisbon — He marches to the assistance of the
Spanish armies — Napoleon invades Spain — Espinosa, Tudela
— Moore's march to Sahagun — Napoleon crosses the Gua-
darrama, but fails to destroy Moore's army — The retreat to,
and the battle of, Corunna — Death of Moore — Faulty dis
positions of the French armies after the departure of Na
poleon — Soult at Oporto — Victor on the Guadiana —
Wellesley in command of a British and Portuguese army
at Lisbon — His masterly views on the Peninsular War —
He advances against Soult and crosses the Douro — His
great ability in this achievement — Able retreat of Soult —
Wellesley, after some delay, advances wjth Cuesta, up the

Contents xl
PAGE
valley of the Tagus — Danger of this strategy — Battle of
Talavera — Retreat of Wellesley after a narrow escape —
He receives the title of WeUington.
CHAPTER V
BUSACO, TORRES VEDRAS, FUENTES D'ONORO . . I02
The supremacy of Napoleon on the Continent restored
after Wagram — His efforts to extend the Continental Sys
tem — Spain and Portugal threatened with subjugation —
This might have happened had Napoleon conducted the
war in person — False operations of the French armies —
The invasion of Andalusia — Far-sighted views of Wellington
— His presence on the theatre of the Peninsular War of
supreme importance — His preparations for the defence of
Portugal — Increase and reorganisation of the Portuguese
army — The lines of Torres Vedras — Grandeur of this con
ception and of the position of Wellington — Napoleon pre
pares to invade Portugal in complete ignorance of
Wellington's arrangements — Fall of Ciudad Rodrigo and
Almeida — Advance of Massena — Battle of Busaco and
defeat of the French — Further advance of Massena — He is
permanently arrested by the lines — His position at Santarem
— Soult at Badajoz — Retreat of Massena — Pursuit of Well
ington — The French army forced back into Spain — Battle
of Fuentes d'Onoro — The garrison of Almeida escapes —
Disgrace of Massena. CHAPTER VI
CIUDAD RODRIGO, BADAJOZ, SALAMANCA, BURGOS . 139
Wellington's defence of Portugal again stirs opinion on
the Continent against Napoleon — Discontent in France,
especially with the Peninsular War — Policy of Napoleon —
Weakness of the position of the French in Spain— Joseph
resigns his crown — Napoleon, intent on war with Russia,
menaces the Continent, and tries to restore the situation in
the Peninsula, to little purpose — The Empire apparently at
its height in the eyes of most men — Distress in England —
Confidence of WeUington — State of the armies in the

xii Contents PAGE
Peninsula — First siege of Badajoz — Battle of Albuera —
Second siege of Badajoz — It is raised — Junction of Soult
and Marmont — Wellington on the Caya — The marshals
separate— - WeUington purposes to take Ciudad Rodrigo
and Badajoz — His preparations — He is in danger at El
Bodon — Progress of the French army in the East — Siege
and fall of Tarragona — Suchet at Valencia — Napoleon
directs a large part of his forces to the East — Arroyo Molinos
— Wellington takes Ciudad Rodrigo — Reduction of the
French armies in Spain — Third siege of Badajoz — The
place taken after a desperate resistance — Wellington in
vades Spain — ¦ Operations of Marmont — Wellington out-
manceuvred — Great victory of Wellington at Salamanca —
Fine retreat of Clausel^ — ^Wellington occupies Madrid — He
besieges Burgos and fails — Soult forced to evacuate Anda
lusia — Wellington retreats from Burgos — He is threatened
by the united French armies, but makes good his way to
Ciudad Rodrigo. CHAPTER VII
VITORIA  187
The invasion of Russia in 1812 — The Retreat from Moscow
— Great rising in Prussia after the disasters of the French
— The Czar continues the war — Efforts of Napoleon to re
store his military power — Lutzen and Bautzen — Negotia
tions — Policy of Metternich — The armistice of Pleisnitz —
Events in Spain largely influence the conduct of the Allies
— Position of the French ai-mies after the retreat from
Burgos — They are considerably reduced — Directions of
Napoleon for the Campaign of 1813 in Spain — They reach
Joseph late and are imperfectly carried out — Dissemination
of the French armies — Wellington disposes of a great mili
tary force — His plan for the Campaign of 1813 — He turns
the position of the French on the Esla and the Douro —
Joseph is surprised < and compelled to fall back — Confused
and ill-managed retreat of the French armies from Valla
dolid to Vitoria — Battle of Vitoria — Complete defeat of
Joseph — Immense results of the victory.

Contents xiii
CHAPTER VIII PAGE
FROM THE PYRENEES TO THE GARONNE . . . 215
WeUington made a Field Marshal and Duque di Vitoria —
Soult reorganises the French array — Battles of the Pyrenees
— Siege of San Sebastian — Fall of the place — The Cam
paign of 1 8 13 in Germany — Complete defeat of Napoleon
at Leipzig — The French armies driven across the Rhine —
Wellington crosses the Bidassoa — Soult fortifies his lines on
the Nivelle — The lines forced — Soult had previously called
on Suchet to support him — Soult at Bayonne — His for
midable positidn — Wellington crosses the Nive — Danger of
this operation — The allied army divided on the river —
Soult concentrates his forces and attacks it — Indecisive
battles of the loth and 13th of December — Hostilities in
the field resumed in February, 1814 — Difficulties of Soult
and Wellington — Wellington attacks Soult — Passage of the
Adour — Battle of Orthes — Retreat of Soult to Toulouse —
Rising against Napoleon at Bordeaux — Pursuit of Welling
ton — Fall of Napoleon — Battle of Toulouse — End of the
War. CHAPTER IX
THE CONGRESS OF VIENNA — QUATRE BRAS — WATER
LOO  255
Wellington made a Duke in 1814 — He is sent as Ambas
sador to France — His position at the Congress of Vienna
— Napoleon's escape from Elba — He regains the throne —
Conduct of the Allies — The Hundred Days — Weakness of
the Emperor's Government — His military preparations —
The allied plan of campaign — Wellington proposes to
invade France — Napoleon's plan of campaign — Concen
tration of the French army on the Belgian frontier — The
operations of June 15, 18 15 — Napoleon fails to attain
fully his objects, but gains a distinct advantage — Blucher
hastily advances to encounter Napoleon with only part of
his forces — Delays of Wellington — -The battle of Ligny
— The D'Erlon incident — Blucher is defeated, but not de
stroyed — The Battle of Quatre Bras— Misconduct of Ney

xiv Contents PAGE
on the i6th of June— Tactics of WeUington— Napoleon
and the French army on the 17th of June — Immense op
portunity given the Emperor — Grouchy is detached with
a. restraining wing — The night of the 17th ofjune — Oper
ations of the 1 8 th of June — The battle of Waterloo —
Fine defence of Wellington — Rout of the French army —
Grouchy the real cause of the disaster.
CHAPTER X
THE ARMY OF OCCUPATION — ENTRANCE INTO PO
LITICAL LIFE  308
Wellington and Blucher invade France — Intrigues of
Fouche to effect the restoration of Louis XVIII. — Na
poleon practically deposed by the Chambers — Duplicity of
Fouche — He paralyses the defence of Paris — Envoys sent
to Wellington and Blucher — Hazardous advance of Blucher
— Wisdom and moderation of Wellington — The capitu
lation of Paris- Great position of Wellington — He saves
France from dismemberment, and does her other services
— He commands the Army of Occupation — He enters
political life in i8i8, and is made Master of the Ordnance
and Commander-in-Chief — The period from 1818 to 1827
— Conduct of Wellington — His attitude to the Irish Cath
olic and other questions — His dispute with Canning.
CHAPTER XI
PRIME MINISTER OF ENGLAND  329
The Administration of Canning — Hopes formed as regards
his policy — Death of Canning — The Goderich Ministry a
mere stopgap — Wellington becomes Prime Minister —
General belief that his Government would be permanent —
Hill made Commander-in-Chief of the army — Repeal of
the Test and Corporation Acts — Huskisson and the fol
lowers of Canning leave the Ministry — Vesey Fitzgerald —
O'Connell stands for Clare — The Clare election — Great
results — Catholic Emancipation a necessity of State — Policy
of Peel and of Wellington — Great difficulties in their way

Contents XV
PAGE
— The Emancipation Bill carried — Political consequences
— Indignation of the high Tory party and of Protestant
England — The question of Reform pressed to the front —
Distress — Revolutions in France and in Belgium — The
Reform movement adopted by the Whig party — Unwise
speech of Wellington — Fall of his Government — Lord Grey
and the Whigs in office. CHAPTER XII
FROM 1830 TO 184I ...... 349
The Grey Government — It introduces the Reform Bill —
Progress of the measures brought in — WeUington called
upon to form an administration — He fails — The Reform
Bill becomes law — Characteristics of the measure — Welling
ton steadily opposes it all through — Agitated and critical
state of England — The Duke's life exposed to danger —
The first Reformed Parliament — Fall of the Government
of Lord Grey — Lord Melbourne Prime Minister — William
IV. changes his Ministry and places Wellington at the
head of affairs — His patriotic conduct — Peel Prime Minis
ter — His first short administration — The Melbourne Gov
ernment restored to office — Wise and moderate attitude of
Wellington in opposition — Death of William IV. — Acces
sion of Queen Victoria — Soult in England — Feebleness of
the Melbourne Government — Wellington and Peel, who
had been estranged, are completely reconciled — Fall of
the Melbourne Government — Peel Prime Minister.

CHAPTER XIII
DECLINING YEARS  DEATH — CHARACTER . . 365
Wellington in the Cabinet of Peel, but without office — He
returns to the command of the army after the retirement of
HiU — State of England when Peel became Minister in
1841— His great fiscal and economical reforms — Policy of
Free Trade — The Income Tax — Peel's administration
gradually undermined — The failure of the potato in Ireland
— Discussions in the Cabinet— Attitude of WeUington—

XVI

Contents

Resignation of Peel and return to office — The ultimate
repeal of the Corn Laws carried through Parliament —
Wellington succeeds in passing the measure through the
House of Lords — Fall of Peel's Ministry — The Administra
tion of Lord John Russell — Wellington often consulted —
His conduct as Commander-in-Chief in his later years
— Universal reverence felt for him — His death and funeral
— His character as a general, as a military administrator,
as a statesman, and in public and private life.

INDEX

387

ILLUSTRATIONS

THE DUKE OF WELLINGTON . . Frontispiece
After the painting by Sir Thomas Lawrence,
P.R.A. Now in the possession of Lord Bath-
urst. From a print of a negative owned by
Goupil.

ROBERT STUART, VISCOUNT CASTLEREAGH
After the painting by Sir Thomas Lawrence.
PLAN OF ASSAYE 
NAPOLEON IN HIS STUDY ....
From a steel engraving.
PLAN OF VIMIERO ......
SIR JOHN HOPE, EARL OF HOPETOUN
From the painting by Sir Henry Raeburn, R.A.
LORD WELLESLEY ......
From the painting by Sir Thomas Lawrence.
PLAN OF TALAVERA 
MARSHAL NEY ......
After the painting by Gerard.
MARSHAL SOULT ......
After the painting by Rouillard.
xvii

385°66 768692 94
114

XVUI

Illustrations

PAGE
PLAN OF BUSACO . . . . . . . Il8
ANDRE MASSENA, DUKE DE RIVOLI . . . 122
After the painting by Maurice.
BLUCHER  140
From an old engraving.
PLAN OF BADAJOZ . ...... 150
PLAN OF SALAMANCA . . . . . .172
VISCOUNT ROWLAND HILL ... . 182
From the painting by H. W. PickersgiU, R.A.
LORD LYNEDOCH . . . . 200
After the painting by Sir Thomas Lawrence.
PLAN OF VITORIA . . ..... 2o6
PLAN OF PYRENEES ..... 2l6
SIR GEORGE MURRAY . . . . . 218
After the painting by H. W. PickersgiU.
PLAN OF LINES OF THE NIVELLE . . 224
PLAN OF BAYONNE .... 226
PLAN OF BATTLE OF ORTHES ..... 244
PLAN OF TOULOUSE .... . 250
PLAN OF QUATRE BRAS  266
PLAN OF WATERLOO ...... 292
NAPOLEON BY A DYING CAMP-FIRE . . . . 310
From a drawing by Cliarlet.
SIR ROBERT PEEL  332
From the painting by John Linnell, in the National
Portrait Gallery.
SIR HENRY HARDING . . ... 372
After the painting by E. Eddis.

' Illustrations
THE DUKE OF WELLINGTON .
From a steel engraving.
MAPS
MAP OF INDIA IN 1804 .
MAP OF SPAIN AND PORTUGAL
To illustrate the Peninsular War.

XIX PAGE 380

42
254

WELLINGTON

CHAPTER I
EARLY YEARS
Birth and family of Wellington — The Wellesleys or Wesleys in
Ireland — Arthur Wesley, his boyhood — He is sent to Eton and
Angers — He enters the army — His attention to his military du
ties, and his studies — He is placed on the staff of Lord West
moreland, the Lord Lieutenant of Ireland — He seconds the ad
dress in the Irish Parliament — The Catholic Relief Bill of 1793
— He distinguishes himself in the campaign of 1794 in Holland,
but seeks to leave the army.
THERE is some uncertainty as to the date of the
birth of Wellington, as there is with respect
to the date of the birth of Napoleon. The
evidence, however, is nearly conclusive that Napo
leon was born on the 15th of August, 1769, and
that Wellington was born on the ist of May in the
same year ; " Providence," said Louis XVIIL, "gave
us this counterpoise." The family of the future
soldier and statesman belonged to " the English in
Ireland," as they have been called ; it may be traced

2 Wellington
back to Waleran de Wellesley, a Judge of the An
glo-Norman Colony of the Pale in the thirteenth
century. The descendants of the Judge had no dis
tinguished names; the)' were more fortunate than
most of the " Old English'ry," and escaped the ef
fects of confiscation and conquest ; they were owners
of large estates in Meath and Kildare when the Act
of Settlement confirmed the Cromwellian forfeitures.
The surname of Wellesley had, befpre this, been cor
rupted into that of Wesley about the time of the
restoration of Charles II. Garret Wesley married a
daughter of a gentleman of the name of Colley, of
a family, also of English blood, which had been set
tled in the County of Kilkenny, since the reign of
Henry V. The marriage of Garret having been
childless, he transmitted his lands to a nephew,
Richard Colley, on the condition of his taking the
name and arms of Wesley ; and Richard Colley
Wesley, who, like many of the Colonial caste, had
considerable borough influence in the Irish House of
Commons, was created Baron Mornington in the
Peerage of Ireland in 1747. His son Garret, not a
man of superior parts, and remarkable only for his
skill in music, which attracted the notice of George
IIL, was made Earl of Mornington in 1760; he mar
ried a daughter of the House of Hill, a prominent
House of the Anglo-Irish Colony ; by her he had
five sons and a daughter, the fourth son, Arthur, being
the Wellington of another day. It may thus be ob
served that Wellington, as far as can be ascertained,
had nothing in common with the native Irish race ;
no Celtic blood, probably, ran in his veins ; his na-

Early Years 3
ture was the very opposite of that of the Celt ; he
was a scion of the English conquerors settled in Ire
land, identified with them in lineage and in faith;
and through life he had strong sympathies with this
order of men, the representatives of Protestant as
cendency, as it was called.
In the case of Wellington, as in that of Napoleon,
and indeed of many other illustrious men, the off
spring inherited its best gifts from the maternal par
ent. Lady Mornington, left a widow in 1781, was a
woman of no ordinary powers, and of very remarkable
strength of character ; but her nature was imperious
and not genial ; her temperament was rather stern
and cold ; we see these qualities in the greatest of
her sons. It is a singular fact that she had no per
ception of what Arthur, even in boyhood, must have
been ; she thought him stupid and without a sign of
promise. " I vow to God," she once exclaimed ; " I
don't know what I shall do with him." There was,
in truth, no kind of sympathy between the mother
and the son; in his early as in his later years, the
domestic life of Wellington was not happy; this
may, in part, account for what he was in the circle of
home. The lad was sent for a short time to Eton,
but unhke Richard, his eldest brother, a darling of
Eton and Oxford tutors, and one of the greatest
English masters of the Latin tongue, he made no
mark at that celebrated school, though certainly he
retained an affection for it ; " the cricket field at
Eton," he once said, " had its effect at Waterloo."
We find Arthur next at a kind of military school at
Angers, directed by a distinguished officer of French

4 Wellington
engineers ; Lady Mornington seems to have gratified
his inclination in this ; she had destined him for a
small place in the Irish Excise ; but " nothing would
satisfy him but to go into the army." She sent him
to Angers to learn his calling, contemptuously re
marking that " he would be only food for powder."
We know little or nothing about Wellington's life at
Angers ; but probably he read hard and with profit :
many years afterwards he said to a friend that he
" had made it a rule to work some hours at his books
from a very early age." In 1787, he obtained his
first commission ; and, perhaps owing to family influ
ence, passed rapidly through the lower grades of the
service. He was raised to the rank of major within
six years ; this, for that age, was extremely quick pro
motion. We now begin to see what he really was ;
like Turenne, with whom he had some points in
common, he became an excellent infantry officer, and
when a captain, had his company in the best order ;
and he addressed himself especially to the mastery
of the tactics of his arm, in which he has never, per
haps, been excelled, as Napoleon was pre-eminent
in all that pertained to artillery. As he once ob
served in his characteristic fashion : " I was not so
young as not to know that since I had undertaken a
profession, I had better try to understand it. I be
lieve that I owe most of my success to the attention
I always paid to the inferior part of tactics as a regi
mental officer. There were very few men in the
army who knew these details better than I did ; it
is the foundation of all military knowledge."
Having recently obtained a troop of dragoons,

Early Years 5
Arthur Wesley, in the autumn of 1792, was placed
on the staff of Lord Westmoreland, the head of
the Irish Government. The social life of Dublin in
those days was very brilliant ; the Protestant aris
tocracy, proud of the Revolution of 1782, which had
made their Parliament independent in name, gave
free rein to pleasure carried to excess ; their gaiety,
their hospitalities, their high play, were famous. A
young aide-de-camp of the Lord Lieutenant has
always been a favourite in the Irish capital ; Arthur
Wesley took part in the State balls, the dinners, and
the other festivities of the time, but he was hardly
conspicuous among his brother officers. The tradi
tions about him, when at the Castle, are few ; two
anecdotes, however, may be mentioned ; he is said to
have pointed out a house in the city, which com
manded a number of leading streets, and to have
advised that it should be fortified ; and I have my
self heard a veteran, in extreme old age, tell how he
was near fighting a duel with the great future war
rior, and how well it was that his pistol had not the
chance of perhaps changing the fortunes of Europe!
Wesley had entered the Irish House of Commons
in 1790, as a member of the pocket borough of Trim,
an appanage of his family in the eighteenth century,
as was the case of five-sixths of the Irish boroughs,
petty corporations, feeble and corrupt, the mono-
plies of the dominant lords of the soil. Nothing
is known about his early parliamentary career; but
we may perhaps guess what he may have thought,
with characteristic common sense and judgment, of
an assembly which was a mere caricature of the

6 Wellington
greater assembly that had its seat at Westminster ;
which did not represent a fifth part of the Irish
people ; and which, though it contained many re
markable men, abounded in factions and bad ele
ments ; and was the instrument of an oligarchy of
sect at the beck of the Castle. He belonged, how
ever, to the party attached to the Government, which,
practically, was supreme in College Green, and in
fact was a dependent of the Lord Lieutenant ; we
may rest assured thathe would have denounced Irish
parhamentary reform at this time, as he denounced
the great Reform Bill forty years afterwards. The
period when he was a member of the Irish Parlia
ment was one filled with portentous events, and of
evil omen to Ireland and Great Britain alike. The
French Revolution had shaken Ireland and her social
structure to its base ; Presbyterian Ulster was dis
affected to the core, and was falling into the hands
of the United Irishmen ; Catholic Ireland, still down
trodden and oppressed, was beginning to stir with a
dangerous movement ; the institutions of the country,
founded on an ascendency of race and creed, exclu
sive and unjust, were in no doubtful peril. At the
same time, notwithstanding the efforts of Pitt, the
Revolution was turning England against France ;
and there were many signs of a tremendous im
pending conflict.
When the Irish Parliament had assembled for the
session of 1793, Arthur Wesley was put forward to
second the Address to the Throne. A great " Roman
Catholic Relief Bill," as it was named, was the prin
cipal measure before the House of Commons ; even

Early Years 7
now it has much historical interest. During a period
of more than twenty years, the fetters which bound
the Catholic Irish had been removed by degrees ;
they had been allowed to live in peace, in their own
country, and even to acquire lands by purchase;
they had been freed from the worst social disabili
ties imposed on them, but they were still almost with
out political power, — in fact, all but shut out from
the pale of the State ; and though the illustrious
Grattan and his followers aimed at raising them to
the level of the Protestants in their midst, a large
majority at College Green were still opposed to their
claims. The condition of Ireland, however, had
alarmed Pitt, and, probably at the instigation of
Burke, through life a champion of the Irish Catholic
people, the Minister had resolved to bring in a
measure for enlarging the rights of the Catholic
Irish, and to carry it through the Irish Parliament
by the means in his hands. The bill, like many
other projects of the kind, revealed the ignorance of
Ireland characteristic of British statesmen ; it ad
mitted, but with great and invidious exceptions, the
Irish Catholic to certain offices in the State ; but —
and this was its most distinctive and worst feature
— it gave the electoral franchise to the great body
of the Irish peasantry — a priest-ridden multitude of
Helot serfs — and closed the doors of Parliament to
the Catholic peer and gentlemen, exactly reversing
the course of what should have been a true policy.
The measure, however, passed both Houses ; the
majority, if not without angry protests, being in
duced or bribed to give their assent ; but it gave

8 Wellington
rise to vfery able debates ; more than one of the Op
position pointed out, with prophetic insight, what
even if it were delayed for years — would be the
natural, perhaps the inevitable result, of conferring
immense political power on the Catholic masses,
and withholding it from their superiors and leaders.
Wesley's speech on this occasion was confined to a
few words ; it was the speech of a young Castle offi
cial; but we may speculate if the predictions he
heard at this time did not cross his mind when the
Clare election of 1828 — a triumph won by the
peasantry enfranchised in 1793 — extorted Catholic
Emancipation from his reluctant hands. It deserves
notice that he objected to the policy of letting
Catholics into the Irish Parliament, on the ground
only that this project might cause disunion, and not,
as the school of Flood did, on the ground of princi
ple ; this is perhaps the first instance of the spirit
of compromise, which was characteristic of the
statesman of another age.
Wesley had left the Irish House of Commons
within a few months. He had entered on his ac
tive mihtary career in the early spring of 1794. He
had been made lieutenant-colonel of the 33rd Foot
through the influence of Lord Westmoreland and
of his eldest brother, who had succeeded, of course,
to his father's peerage ; he sailed from Cork under the
command of Lord Moira to take part in the great
war which was being waged between the League of
Europe and revolutionary France. The conflict had
been a fierce struggle of opposing principles; the
aristocracies and monarchies of the eighteenth cent-

Early Years 9
ury had encountered a democracy formidable in its
strength and its new ideas : a great nation, appar
ently on the brink of destruction, had baffled a
coalition which seemed impossible to resist, had
struck down a host of domestic foes, and was now
advancing on a flood tide of victory. The situation,
nevertheless, might have been made desperate for
France in her agony in the later months of 1793.
After Neerwinden, the allied armies had reached the
camp of Caesar and were only a few marches from
Paris, with weak and beaten levies in their path ;
they could, without difficulty, have seized the capi
tal and mastered its Jacobin rulers in their seat.
France was being invaded on all her borders ; a civil
war was raging in the West ; Marseilles and Lyons
were in revolt ; Toulon was assailed by a great hos
tile fleet ; the Girondin rising stirred whole pro
vinces. But the Allies were divided in mind and
jealous of each other; there was no real unity in
their councils; their military operations were ill-di
rected ; disseminated upon an immense front, they
wasted their power in useless sieges, they never
combined their vast forces against the common
enemy. France was given what was, above all,
needed, time ; a terrible dictatorship, the Commit
tee of Public Safety, laid hold of the resources of
the country and of its head, Paris, and summoned the
mass of the nation to arms. Frightful as the Reign
of Terror was, its results were decisive. The fourteen
armies of the Repubhc stemmed the tide of inva
sion ; the Allies were discomfited on the northern
and the eastern frontiers ; the insurrection of La

IO Wellington
Vendue sank in blood and ashes; the genius of Bo
naparte saved Toulon ; the rebel cities of the South
fell ; the Girondins and their adherents were crushed.
Before the summer of 1794, the war had turned de
cisively against the coalition. While Prussia was hesi
tating in the East, Carnot had flung armed masses
into the Low Countries: the Duke of York had
been defeated near Tournay; Jourdan had won a
great battle on the plains of Fleurus ; and while the
Duke was in full retreat in Belgium, his Austrian
colleagues were making off for the Rhine. The
League of Europe was, in a word, fast breaking up ;
the Republic was advancing beyond old France ; her
arms and her evangel of liberty were spreading her
influence far and near.
Wesley, even before this time, seems to have been
recognised by his superiors as a capable officer. The
33rd Regiment was a model corps ; its organisation
and discipline were extremely good ; it was a speci
men of the admirable work and care of a commander
who, in his own words, " was always on the spot,
saw everything and did everything himself." Lord
Moira placed the young colonel at the head of a
brigade ; Wesley had soon given proof of military
insight and skill. The Duke of York, driven from
Oudenarde and the adjoining country, was now in
full retreat to the Lower Scheldt, with Pichegru and
Moreau on his track ; Moira and his contingent had
landed at Ostend; Wesley urged his chief to re-
embark, and to join the Duke by sea, obviously
the proper and the only safe course. Moira, how
ever, with remarkable want of judgment, marched

Early Years 1 1
from Ostend behind the screen of the Great Canal,
exposing his flank to a victorious enemy ; he fortu
nately escaped, but was in grave danger; Wesley
actually re-embarked with his brigade and had come
into line with the Duke before his commander. It is
unnecessary to retrace the events of the campaign
that followed, glorious to France, most disastrous to
the arms of the Allies. The French fortresses which
had fallen the year before were easily recaptured
after the late defeats of the League ; Pichegru, Mo
reau, and Jourdan had erelong entered Brussels and
taken possession of the whole of Belgium ; the Duke
of York, isolated and without his supports, retreated
behind the Lower Meuse and the Wahal ; the Aus
trian Clerfait, beaten on the Ourthe and the Roer,
with difficulty escaped across the Rhine by Cologne.
The French now advanced into Holland in triumph.
The Prince of Orange and the aristocratic party en
deavoured for a time to make a stand and with part
of the army to help the Duke, but the great body
of the people had had sympathies for many years
with France ; it had been leavened with the Revo
lutionary hopes and doctrines ; it welcomed the
invaders as liberators from the yoke of the Stadt
holders, and as bringing them freedom at the point
of their swords. The French armies swept over the
States like a torrent, meeting hardly any resistance
on their way ; fortress after fortress opened its gates ;
the line of the Wahal was lost ; the Duke of York,
who had gone back to England and given his com
mand to a German colleague, had left his army in
critical straits; it was ultimately compelled to fall

1 2 Wellington
back behind the Ems, and, discomfited, to embark
for England from Bremen. Meanwhile a winter of
extraordinary severity had set in, the great rivers of
Holland were congealed and ceased to afford any
hnes of defence, and the campaign ended with the
capture of Amsterdam and of the greater part of the
renowned Dutch fleet, boarded, strange to say, by
squadrons of Pichegru's hussars.
Wesley played a not undistinguished part in this
unfortunate contest in the Low Countries. He
covered the retreat of the Army, on more than one
occasion ; beat off the enemy, in a bloody struggle
round Boxtel, a village not far from the Wahal, and
was repeatedly thanked, by his superiors, for his good
services. He has left experiences of what he wit
nessed, and has written a few words on the state of
the British Army at this time. The troops, true to
their nature, were stubborn and brave : many of the
regiments were well ordered, and did their duty ad
mirably in a most severe trial. But the tactics of the
Army were antiquated and bad ; its formations were
cumbrous and heavy in the extreme ; it was ill com
manded through nearly all its grades ; " no one knew
how to manage it," as a collective military force.
The Army, in fact, at this period, had sunk to the
lowest point of inferiority seen in its history. It
gave proof, no doubt, of the great qualities of the
race ; it often beat the French soldiery in fair fight,
fired as these were with patriotic passions, and for
midable as they have always been in success. But it
had been hastily recruited, and had few seasoned
men ; its mechanism and organisation were very de-

Early Years 1 3
fective ; it had suffered from the economising policy
of Pitt, who would not prepare for war until the last
moment. Its leaders, from the Commander-in-Chief
to the subaltern, had little or no knowledge of the
military art, and gave little attention to their pro
fession ; the grossest favouritism prevailed in the
service ; political interest, jobbing, anything but
merit, were the passports to even the highest promo
tion. The Army, in a word, was full of abuses and
defects; Wesley remarked that the officers in 1794
were careless and idle ; that outpost duties were
miserably performed ; that incapacity was conspicu
ous even in the highest places. This, too, was nearly
the view of Nelson about this time ; and in truth,
after Saratoga and Yorktown, the British Army
stood ill in opiniorr in England, and throughout
Europe. Arthur Wesley appears to have had a con
viction that he had no opportunity to rise in such a
calling ; he was disgusted with what he had seen in
the Netherlands, and actually applied for a civil post ;
for he said, " I see the manner in which military offi
ces are filled." Propitious Fortune, however, refused
his prayer ; " he was to be shown to her," like the
Roman, in a very different aspect. The destinies
of the greatest men have thus hung upon seeming
trifles ; Cromwell had turned his eyes to New Eng
land before the great Civil War ; Napoleon sought a
mission to the Turk when on the eve of command
ing the Army of Italy.

CHAPTER II
CAREER IN INDIA
Wesley fails to get a post in the Civil Service — He is prevented from
going in an expedition to the West Indies — He is sent with the
33rd to India — His memorandum on military affairs, the first
instance of his sagacious views on this subject — Lord Morning
ton made Governor-General — The two brothers in India — State
of our Empire and of the Company at this conjuncture — The
name of Wesley changed back to that of Wellesley — Operations
against Tippoo Sahib — Arthur Wellesley, as a rule, on the side ot
peace — His failure at an outpost — Fall of Seringapatam — Set
tlement of Mysore — Wellesley made Governor — His adminis
tration—Defeat of Dhoondiah Waugh — Baird sent to Egypt in
stead of Wellesley— The Mahratta War — Assaye, great ability
shown by Wellesley in the battle — Lord Lake's operations — De
feat of Monson — Wellesley leaves India for England.
WE know nothing of what occurred as to
Arthur Wesley's attempt to enter the
Civil Service of the State, save that, hap
pily, it was not attended with success. Fortune,
too, smiled on him in another instance ; he embarked,
with the 33rd, to take part in an expedition against
the French settlements in the West Indies, objects
of British attack since the beginning of the war. A
tempest, however, put a stop to the 'enterprise ;
many of the transports, the "wooden coffins" of those
14

Career in India 15
days, were wrecked, a considerable number of the
troops, perished and the 33rd and its chief were soon
afterward despatched to the East. Wesley on the
voyage devoted studious hours to acquiring a know
ledge of the affairs of India ; his natural sagacity,
even now remarkable, made what he had thus
mastered of sterling value. He landed at Calcutta
in the spring of 1797 ; our rule in the Peninsula was
being already threatened by rumours of war gather
ing in on many sides ; the reins of government were
in the hands of Sir John Shore, one of the Viceroys,
who adopted a timid policy in Hindustan before our
Empire had been fully established. The Governor-
General, however, did not perceive any immediate
danger ; by this time, we were at war with Spain ; St.
Vincent had been won by the genius of Nelson ;
Wesley's services were first put in request for a pro
jected attack against Manila, the capital of the
Philippine Islands, the scene of one of our triumphs
in the Seven Years' War. The expedition never took
place, but preparations for it gave to Wesley, then
in his twenty-eighth year, his first opportunity to
place on record his clear and farsighted views on
military affairs, conspicuous for their mastery of de
tails of all kinds, which were distinctive features of
his capacity in command. Erelong a change had
passed over the situation in the East : the Peninsula
had been stirred by echoes of French victories in
the West ; French ambition and intrigue were at
work against our rule ; Tippoo Sahib was intent on
recovering the dominions he had lost ; some of our
allies were hesitating, even ready to declare against

1 6 Wellington
us. In these circumstances. Sir John Shore was suc
ceeded by Wesley's eldest brother, Mornington.
The new Governor-General, who had served on the
Board of Control, but whose great powers had not yet
been displayed, even if he was well acquainted with
Indian affairs, reached Calcutta in May, 1798, at the
very moment when Napoleon was about to embark
for Egypt and to make an effort to descend from the
Nile on the Indies, an enterprise which, extravagant
as it may appear, he maintained, even at St. Helena,
was quite feasible. The youthful conqueror had
already negotiated with Tippoo Sahib, and certainly
had designs against our Empire in the East ; but as
he was baffied by Nelson in the Bay of Aboukir, so
it was his destiny that Richard and Arthur Wesley
should place that Empire on foundations which
could defy his genius, and make subsequent plans of
invasion hopeless. It may here be added that about
this time the two brothers reverted to the old name
of the family ; .the more aristocratic Wellesley re
placed the more plebeian Wesley.
When Lord Mornington was made chief Gover
nor, England had become the dominant Power in
India, but our Empire was even yet by no means
assured. The supremacy of the Moguls was a thing
of the past ; a mere phantom held idle state at
Delhi ; the Peninsula was ruled by the great Com
pany, or was parcelled out among Princes of differ
ent races, overawed by the strangers from across the
ocean, but disunited and usually at feud with each
other. The vast basin of the Ganges was completely
in our hands ; the Presidencies of Madras and Bom-

Career in India ij
bay, once the seats of insignificant trading factories,
had extended far inland from either sea, and em
braced large provinces under subject chiefs ; Oude,
a kingdom in itself, had been reduced to vassalage ;
our authority was felt by the tribes and the peoples
under the shadows of the Himalayas, and along the
course of the Indus. The arms of France and the
genius of Dupleix, for a time threatening our very
existence in the East, had failed against Clive and
the Lords of the Sea; a succession of victories,
sometimes of an extraordinary kind, Plassy, Wande-
wash, Porto-Novo, and many more, had proved that,
even against enormous odds, the islanders of Europe
could crush Asiatics in fair fight. An Empire, in
fact, to which history can show no parallel, had been
built up, in the space of less than half a century,
out of the wrecks of imposing but declining dynas
ties, by the capacity and craft of two or three master
minds ; and a handful of Englishmen scattered in
their midst, had become the rulers of .populations of
many millions, or kept them down by the terror of the
English name. Our supremacy in India, however,
was new, and, not yet deep-rooted, it was menaced
by native foes, vanquished but still able to strike, and
by one of the great Powers of Europe. It depended
in part on the faith of still doubtful allies ; it owed,
in some measure, its existence and its strength to
the jealousies and the discords of still great poten
tates, who, though hostile to each other for years,
might, should an opportunity arise, combine their
arms against it. Tippoo Sahib, from the table-land
of Mysore, was ready, as Hyder Ah had been, to

1 8 Wellington
descend on our territories round Madras and Bom
bay, and, at the head of a great army, to avenge his
defeats at the hands of Cornwallis. Revolutionary
France had not forgotten the efforts of Dupleix ; she
was eager to contend again for empire in Hindu
stan. Napoleon, we have seen, had stretched a hand
to Tippoo ; French officers had organised the forces
of several of the Indian Princes, and were awaiting
the moment of a French invasion. The Viceroy of
the Deccan, called the Nizam, was the only powerful
ally on whom we could reckon, and even he was by
no means trustworthy ; and the great confederacy of
the Mahrattas, at one time friendly, was gradually
becoming all but openly hostile. Tippoo and the
Mahrattas were the most formidable of the native
Powers ; they had often been at war with each other,
and the chiefs of the Mahrattas were not united;
but events were tending to make them the foes of
England. The internal government of our Indian dominions,
though very different from what it has been for
years, was now infinitely better than it was at its
origin. Burke was never just to the rule of the
Company ; it was never that of a " mere rapacious,
peculating, and unsteady despotism"; its "posses
sion of Hindustan had not been like that of the
ourangoutang and the hyaena." But, as has usually
happened when a small body of conquerors, the off
spring of a great Imperial race, subdues whole
nations of races of a less powerful type, our ascend
ency had not been gained without deeds of violence
and wrong; and the Company's reign, at its be-

Career in India ig
ginning, had this special evil feature : it was that of
adventurers who made India their footstool, in order
to amass money, and to return to England to spend
it. Long before the Wellesleys had made their
presence felt at Calcutta, crimes such as those which,
in a few instances, can be fairly laid to the charge of
Clive and Hastings, had become only memories con
demned by history ; the measure meted out to
Omichund and Nuncomar, the Rohilla War, the
oppression of the Princesses of Oude, were no longer
possible under existing conditions. The days, too
had passed away for ever, when the administration
of the Company could be described as a " combina
tion of rapine and fraud"; of "setting up king
doms for sale " and of " breaking treaties " ; when
its servants could be called " birds of prey and of
passage " ; when whole districts were given up to
monopolists, who starved terrified populations in
the midst of plenty ; when traders made millions by
unlawful gains, and formed a multitude of relentless
Shylocks ; when " boys in uniform," in Burke's
language, could riot in tyranny without a thought
of justice ; when the steady, systematic, and grasp
ing rule of the Englishman was more dreaded than
the swoop of the Mahratta horsemen. The Com
pany was still the chief power in India, but it had
been brought under the control of the State; the
substance of government and the authority of the
sword had passed into the hands of proconsuls, who
had not abused their high office, and usually had been
worthy of it ; immense internal reforms had been
made, conceived in a good spirit, if not always wise;

20 Wellington
a system of law had been established, and was ad
ministered by judges, sometimes mistaken in their
views, but upright : the affairs of the Peninsula were,
even more than now, subject to the vigilant scrutiny
and the severe eye of Parliament. Nevertheless the
traces of the evil past had not vanished ; if there
was little open violence, there was much secret cor
ruption ; the functionaries of the Company, nay,
British oflficers, were too often accessible to the worst
kinds of bribes ; in the administration of the ordin
ary affairs of life, the native had little chance against
the Englishman, should their interests happen to
come into conflict. The dominant race was still
dominant in a bad sense ; the subject races were, in
its eyes, little better than serfs.
Lord Mornington had hardly been placed at the
head of affairs in India, when the designs of Tippoo
Sahib had become manifest. The Governor of the
Isle of France, Malartic, had issued a proclamation
to the effect that the French Republic and the ruler
of Mysore had combined to expel the English in
truders from Hindustan ; Tippoo, it was known,
was in communication with him. Mornington one
of the series of the great proconsuls, of whom Hast
ings and Dalhousie are conspicuous types, was de
sirous to seize the occasion, and to strike down
Tippoo at once ; but the intended expedition was
delayed for months. The finances of the Company,
diminished by recent wars, and by the expenses of
administration of different kinds, were by no means
in a prosperous state; and, as always happened,
there was a party among the Directors thinking of

Career in India 2 1
dividends only, and eager for peace at any price.
Arthur Wellesley never subscribed to these ignoble
views ; but, as has often been the case with illus
trious soldiers, he did not wish to precipitate war;
he had a stronger will than his more accomphshed
brother, and exercised great influence over him ;
he urged Mornington to treat with Tippoo, and to
afford him a golden bridge to escape, We see here
the first instance of the different lines of policy
recommended or adopted by these two eminent
men ; Richard Wellesley, as a rule, was for bold,
even aggressive measures ; Arthur, for caution, com
promise, and, if possible, peace. Arthur, however,
did not hesitate when it had become apparent that
a league of foreign enemies and of native powers, of
which Tippoo was to be the head, was being formed
against our rule in India. The Nizam, we have
seen, was our strongest, perhaps our only ally ; as
had been the case with several of the Indian Princes,
he had employed Frenchmen to organise and train
his army ; this was a well-equipped force of about
16,000 men ; its French chiefs had been won over
by the intrigues of Tippoo. A mutiny, however,
had broken out among the troops ; the oflficers were
powerless ; the Nizam was willing to shake off the
yoke of allies he feared, and to throw in his lot
with the Governor-General : at the instance of
Arthur Wellesley his army was suddenly disarmed,
and the French oflficers were made prisoners of war.
The Nizam now openly declared for England ;
Mornington made a treaty with the nominal head
of the Mahratta chiefs, binding them not to take up

22 Wellington
arms in behalf of Tippoo ; every effort was made to
fit out an army suflficiently formidable to invade and
conquer Mysore. The stroke which Wellesley had
advised had proved masterly ; it was an early ex
ample of his judgment and insight in war.
Tippoo may not have heard of the destruction of
the French fleet at the Nile; he had been buoyed
up by a pledge given by Napoleon that " an invinci
ble army was on the march to join him." All efforts
at negotiation having failed, it was resolved to in
vade Mysore upon two lines : General Stuart with
about 6000 men, advancing from the seaboard of
Bombay, General Harris with a somewhat larger
force, moving from the low country around Madras.
Wellesley was still the chief of the 33 rd ; an accident
gave him the temporary command of the column of
Harris — that general had been detained for some
weeks in the rear ; and the admirable arrangements
the colonel made for the troops elicited from his su
perior a tribute of well-merited praise.' Towards the
middle of February, 1799, the Army of the Nizam,.
about 1 5,000 strong, had effected its junction with the

' This was the first occasion when Wellesley was in any kind of
independent command. I quote these remarks of General Harris:
"I have much satisfaction in acquainting your Lordship, that the
very handsome appearance and perfect discipline of the troops under
the orders of the Hon. Col. Wellesley do honour to themselves and
to him, while the judicious and masterly arrangements as to supplies,
which opened an abundant free market, and inspired confidence in
dealers of every description, were no less creditable to Colonel Welles
ley than advantageous to the public service, and deservedly entitle
him to very marked approbation." — Wellesley's Dispatches, i., 425.
Wellington's conduct in the Peninsular War was thus prefigured.

RUBERT STUART, VISCOUNT CASTLEREAGH 2nd MARGUESS
OF LONDONDERRY.
(After the painting by Sir Thonias Lawrence.)

Career in India 23
force of Harris ; that chief, appreciating the conduct
of his young lieutenant, placed this large contingent
under the command of Wellesley, a selection beyond
all question the best, but which was bitterly resented
by General Baird, a distinguished and a much senior
oflficer. The main Army was soon on its march
through the passes between the hills that surround
the uplands of Mysore ; but the vast bodies of camp
followers, and the masses of baggage always in the
train of Asiatic forces, — ingens belli lues, in the
phrase of Tacitus, — considerably retarded the in
vader's movements, and their transport service well
nigh broke down. Tippoo fell on Stuart in the
first instance, but he was defeated with heavy loss ;
he then attacked Harris at a place called Malavelly,
a short distance only from his great fortified capital,
Seringapatam. A sharp engagement was bravely
fought, Wellesley being in command of the left wing
of the Army ; he turned Tippoo's right and drove
him, routed, from the field. The march of Harris,
however, continued to be slow, owing to the many
diflficulties in his way and the prodigious burden of
his impedimenta : he was not before Seringapatam
until the first week of April.
Tippoo had had time to prepare for a defence.
Seringapatam, he felt sure, could defy his enemy.
Yet Cornwallis had appeared before the place a few
years before ; his army had stormed a great en
trenched camp, which had been made to cover the
fortress"; Tippoo, fearing an assault, showed himself
willing to treat. He had now assembled the flower
of the army of Mysore, about 22,000 men, to make

24 Wellington
a resistance, from which he expected a triumph;
more than 200 guns crowned the ramparts and
bastions. The attacking force was about 35,000
strong, with loo guns. Before the regular approaches
were made, an incident occurred, which was one of
the rare examples of failure in Wellesley's military
career. There were two outposts held by the enemy,
about 4000 yards from the walls ; the fire of these
annoyed our men ; one was successfully attacked
and occupied ; Wellesley and the 33rd were beaten off
from the other. The effort, in fact, had been made
after dark and without sufficient care ; Wellesley
has left it on record that this reverse taught him
"never to attack by night a post that had not
been reconnoitred by day." The work was cap
tured without diflficulty within twenty-four hours;
but, owing to a mischance, Wellesley was late in
appearing on the scene; Harris saved him from
anything like a reprimand ; but during the opera
tions that followed he was rather under a cloud.
This is not the place to describe the siege of Ser
ingapatam, one of the innumerable instances in
which the best men of the East have gone down
before British valour ; in truth, Wellesley had little
part in the attack; he was left in the rear, at the
head of the reserve. The fortress rose upon an
islet in the Cavery, and was formidable from its
position and its means of defence ; but Tippoo had
chiefly directed his attention to the northern front,
that before which CornwaUis had drawn up his
forces; Harris, who conducted the operations with
no little skill, concentrated his strength upon the

Career in India 25
southern front, where the fortified defences were
comparatively weak. Fire opened from the trenches
in the last days of April ; ramparts, curtains, and
forts were swept by a tempest of shot ; sallies of
the horsemen of Mysore made no impression on
their foes ; a breach was declared practicable on the
2nd of May. On the 4th, Baird led some five thou
sand men, partly auxiliaries, partly choice British
troops, to the assault ; as always, he proved himself
to be a brave and able soldier. Crossing the bed of
the Cavery, at this moment dry, and disregarding the
fire directed against them, the assailants had soon
mastered the breach, though they encountered a fierce
and stern resistance, Tippoo fighting hand-to-hand
at the head of his guards. The ramparts had been
won ; but there was still an obstacle, in a wide fosse,
which appeared impassable ; nothing, however, could
stop Baird and his exulting men ; they forced their
way across on planks and beams ; the garrison was
driven from point to point ; its remains surrendered
after a murderous conflict. Tippoo had struggled
" like an Indian tiger," to the last ; he had called on
his warriors to do or die ; his dead body was found
amidst heaps of the slain.
Baird struck the decisive stroke at Seringapatam ;
he had given proof of heroism and resource at the
imminent deadly breach. Having left the camp to
make his report to the General-in-Chief, Wellesley
was placed in temporary command of the city ; scenes
were witnessed like those which, at this period, al
ways occurred after a successful assault. Wellesley
dealt with the subject with the grim, cynical coolness

26 Wellington
shown afterwards at Badajoz and San Sebastian;
he allowed pillage to run riot for several hours, he
thought this a lawful perquisite of war ; but he
soon repressed these excesses and restored discipline.
" It was impossible to expect that after the labour
which the troops had undergone in working up to
the place, and the various successes they had had in
six different affairs with Tippoo's troops, in all of
which they had come to the bayonet with them,
they should not have looked to the plunder of the
place. Nothing, therefore, can have exceeded what
was done on the night of the 4th. Scarcely a house
in the town was left unplundered, and I understood
that in camp jewels of the greatest value, bars of
gold, etc., have been offered for sale in the ba
zaars of the Army by our soldiers, sepoys, and for
eigners. I came in to take command on the 5th,
and by the greatest exertion, by hanging, flogging,
etc., in the course of the day I restored order
among the troops, and I hope I have gained the
confidence of the people. They are returning to
their houses, and beginning to follow again their
occupations, but the property of every one is gone." '
Wellesley's command was made permanent by the
orders of his chief, who had formed a very high
opinion of him ; this not unnaturally incensed Baird :
he complained that he had been twice unfairly sup
planted. The appointment, however, was confirmed
by the Governor-General ; the ties of blood may
have had some influence ; but Mornington emphati-
' WeUesley to Lord Mornington. Quoted by Sir H. Maxwell.
Life of Wellington, i., 35,

Career in India 27
cally approved of the selection that had been made.
He wrote thus to Harris : " My opinion or rather
knowledge of my brother's discretion, judgment,
temper, and integrity, are such, that if you had not
placed him in Seringapatam, I would have done so
of my own authority, because I think him in every
point of view the most proper for that service."
In fact, Baird, though an excellent oflficer, was not
the man to rule Seringapatam. Wellington wrote of
him in these words thirty-two years afterwards,
when the passions of the time had long been forgot
ten and the great Duke was at the topmost height
of renown : " Baird was a gallant, hard-headed, lion-
hearted officer, but he had no talent, no tact ; had
strong prejudices against the natives, and he was
peculiarly disqualified from his manners, habits, etc.
and it was supposed his temper, for the management
of them. He had been Tippoo's prisoner for years.
. . . I must say that I was the fit person to be
selected. It is certainly true that this command
afforded me opportunities for distinction, and thus
opened the road to fame, which poor Baird always
thought was, by the same act, closed upon him.
Notwithstanding this, he and I were always upon
the best of terms."
The spoil of war taken at Seringapatam was im
mense, notwithstanding the pillage after the fall of
the place. The annihilation of the power of Tippoo
Sahib removed the greatest obstacle to our Empire
in the East ; with his father, Hyder Ali, he had long
been our most dangerous foe, but, as has repeatedly
happened in the affairs of India, this triumph was

28 Wellington
only the prelude to future conflicts. Lord Morning
ton was made Marquis Wellesley for these brilliant
achievements ; but the peace party in the Company
uttered vexatious protests ; nay, affronted the Gov
ernor-General in many ways; unworthy murmurs
were even heard in the House of Commons. India,
however, was in too critical a state to permit Lord
Wellesley to leave his post, and the remaining years
of his rule were marked by a great advance of British
power in the East. The settlement of the kingdom
of Mysore was the first subject that needed atten
tion ; it was effected in the manner of which the
Roman Republic gave many examples in like in
stances, and which had been a feature, too, of our
policy in Hindustan. Hyder Ali and Tippoo had
been usurpers ; a child, the heir of a Rajah they had
dispossessed, was restored to the best part of his
ancestral domains ; the other parts were divided
between the Company, the Nizam, and the suzerain
of the Mahratta League. The sons of Tippoo,
however, received a large indemnity ; it deserves
especial notice that Arthur Wellesley was the chief
counsellor of his brother in making these wise ar
rangements, and contributed more than any one else
to a generous act of justice. Arthur was now made
military Governor of Mysore ; though a civilian
Resident was placed by his side, the whole adminis
tration of this great territory passed into his hands.
He was for a short time engaged in a fierce struggle
with a predatory chief, who had been a lieutenant
of Tippoo, and who, gathering together irregular
bands of armed men, had proclaimed himself " the

Career in India 29
king of the world," and was threatening the borders
of the lands of Mysore; but Wellesley literally
hunted Dhoondia Waugh down in a succession of
marches of extreme celerity, a characteristic of most
of his operations in the East. Wellesley's govern
ment of Mysore marks a turning-point in the admin
istration of our rule in Hindustan. He insisted on
having a free hand to act, and on being exempted
from the control of the Company, — " for I know
that the whole is a system of job and corruption
from beginning to end, of which I and my troops
would be made the instruments " ; the results were
in the highest degree significant. An admirable
change passed over the service ; integrity was en
forced and became general ; the practice of taking
presents and douceurs was stopped ; the spirit of
Wellesley's conduct is seen in these words ad
dressed to a soldier under his command : " In re
spect to the bribe offered to you and myself, I
am surprised that any man in the character of a
British oflficer should not have given the Rajah to
understand that the offer would be considered an
insult." It is unnecessary to say that what was
done at Mysore was done, but on a large scale, at
Calcutta. Lord Wellesley had set an example by
refusing to accept the great sum of ;!f 100,000, as his
share in the prize money of Seringapatam ; like his
brother he made war on administrative misconduct
of all kinds, especially on the taking gifts from the
native princes and chiefs. It has been truly re
marked : " Of all the changes effected bythe brothers
WeUesley, none was so vital — so valuable to British

30 Wellington
ascendency in India — as the end which, between
them, they put to the old system of private pecula
tion and corruption. The administrative body be
came for the first time what it had long been in
name, the Honourable East India Company." '
The great events which had occurred in the West
had, meanwhile, made their influence felt in Hindu
stan. Napoleon had become the ruler of France;
Marengo and Hohenhnden had been fought; the
Continent had succumbed at the peace of LuneviUe.
But England, unaided, maintained the struggle ; the
French army in Egypt was imprisoned within its
conquest ; a British expedition was being made
ready to reach the Nile. Lord Wellesley resolved
to second this enterprise ; he had placed his brother
at the head of a force intended to descend on the
Isle of France ; but he directed this, which he con
siderably increased, to take part in our operations in
Egypt; he made Baird the commander of this de
tachment, Arthur Wellesley not being of suflficient
rank in the service. This irritated the young Gov
ernor of Mysore, and even caused a coolness between
the brothers ; and yet fortune favoured Arthur
again, — the victory of Abercromby had been won
before Baird appeared on the scene, and he took
no part in the triumph of our arms. The con
quest of Mysore had been consolidated bythis time;
it had greatly strengthened our authority in the
East ; as a natural consequence, it brought us in
contact with the powers of India, which were still un-

' Sir H. MaxweU's Life of Wellington, i., 72.

Career in India 31
subdued. The confederacy of the Mahrattas was
the chief of these ; it was supreme in the dominions
which the mighty Sevajee had carved out of the
wrecks of the Mogul Empire ; springing originally
from a race of freebooters, spread along the hills of
the western coast, it now extended to the confines
of Bengal and the Deccan. The head of the League
was called the Peishwa ; but his authority, I have
said, was nominal only, as was the case of many
dynasties in Hindustan ; real power centred in
independent princes, lords of a vast territory reach
ing nearly from Bombay to the Upper Ganges. The
Rajah of Berar held a great province around his
capital, Nagpore ; the Guikwar was ruler of Baroda
and a large adjoining region ; Scindiah was the
master of an immense domain between the Ner-
budda and the Chambal ; Holkar, more to the
north, occupied the country on the banks of the
Jumna. All these potentates could place great
armies on foot, those of Scindiah and Holkar disci
plined by French oflficers; their light cavalry, like
that of Hyder Ali, was an arm not to be despised.
If united they might have been irresistible in the
field ; but they were always divided, and often at
war with each other ; they had been our doubtful
allies or our secret foes ; but they had never com
bined to challenge our Empire. It was the fortune
of England, as it had been of Rome,' to rise to
' Compare the pregnant language of Tacitus. De moribus Ger
manorum XXXIII. " Maneat quaeso, duretque gentibus, si non amor
nostri ... at certe odium sui, quando, urgentibus Imperii
fatis, nihil jam prsestare Fortuna majus potest, quam hostium dis
cordiam."

32 Wellington
supremacy in many lands, owing to the discord of
races which stood in her path.
It is unnecessary to comment on the events
which ended in a war with the chief Mahratta
Princes. Lord Wellesley and the leading men at
Calcutta, foreseeing that a rupture could not, per
haps, be avoided, and not superior to sagacious
statecraft, — true to the principle " divide and rule,"
they had won the Guikwar of Baroda over, — were
desirous of striking when an occasion offered ; Arthur
Wellesley characteristically condemned this policy,
and even wrote of it in no measured language :
" They breathe nothing but war, and appear to have
adopted some of the French principles on that sub
ject. They seem to think that because the Mahrat
tas do not choose to ally themselves with us more
closely . . . it is perfectly justifiable and proper
that we should go to war with them." ' The ani
mosities, however, of the Mahratta Princes precipi
tated a conflict already impending. The Peishwa,
reduced almost to a puppet, like the representative
of the Imperial Moguls, had turned to the Governor-
General to seek his aid ; but he had been overawed
by Scindiah who had practically made him a vassal ;
the negotiations had proved fruitless. The in
fluence, however, of Scindiah over his suzerain in
name provoked the jealousy and suspicion of Hol
kar ; he took the field with a great army, defeated
Scindiah and the Peishwa in a decisive battle, and
had soon seized the city of Poona, the supposed
' Supplementary Despatches ii., 255-258. Sir H. Maxwell's Life
of Wellington, i., 51.

Career in India 33
seat of the Mahratta power. The Peishwa appealed
to British protection ; he signed the treaty of Bas-
sein with Lord Wellesley ; Stuart, with a consider
able army, was despatched from the frontier of
Mysore, and Colonel Stevenson, with a body of the
Nizam's auxiliaries, to avenge our ally and punish
his enemies ; Wellesley now raised to the rank of
General, was placed in command of a detachment
under Stuart's orders. As usual, advancing with
great celerity, Wellesley recaptured Poona, and
made Holkar retreat northwards ; the Peishwa re
turned in state to his capital. But the presence,
perhaps, of a common danger had drawn Scindiah
and Holkar together ; they induced the Rajah of
Berar to join them ; a large army, of which Scindiah
was the head, was assembled to confront the islanders
on the Mahratta frontier. Hostilities had now be
gun in earnest ; Lord Lake had marched across the
Jumna against Holkar, and had compelled that chief
to defend his provinces. Wellesley had been given
the chief command of our forces round Poona, with
full powers to treat with Scindiah and the Rajah of
Berar. He made a real effort to negotiate; buthe
was forced with reluctance to draw the sword. The
words he addressed to Scindiah were characteristic of
the man : " I offered you peace on terms of equality,
and honourable to all parties; you have chosen war
and are responsible for all consequences." '
The campaign had begun in the summer of 1803.
On the Sth of August, Wellesley, at the head of

' Despatches i., 287.
3

34 Wellington
some 13,000 men, — 5000 of these were Indian
troops, — advanced against Ahmednagar, a fortified
town commanding the roads from Poona into the
country inland. The place fell after a sharp resistance;
the British General marched northwards to effect
a junction with Stevenson, who, perhaps 6000
strong, had marched from the Deccan to meet his
superior. The two forces, diminished by some de
tachments, came into line on the 2 ist of September;
the enemy, it was known, was not distant ; Wellesley
resolved to fall upon him as quickly as possible. Two
passes led through a range of hills which separated
him from the hostile armies ; each was at least seven
or eight miles from the other. Wellesley ordered
Stevenson to advance by the eastern pass, while
the General-in-Chief advanced on the west. In pure
strategy this was a false movement, which might
have been fatal before a great chief of Europe ; but
it gave Wellesley increased freedom of action ; the
result justified a decision which he always defended.
On the 23rd the British Commander — he had,
perhaps, been ill-served by his cavalry scouts —
learned that the united forces of Scindiah and the
Rajah, 30,000 footmen and 20,000 horse, had taken
a position only a few miles distant. Wellesley had
but 8000 men in hand, as the division of Stevenson
had not joined him, but he instantly and rightly
resolved to attack ; a retreat, he probably argued,
would cause his ruin. The position, however, of the
enemy, enormously superior in force as he was, was
well chosen, and formidable in the extreme. His
armies were covered in front by the stream of

Career in India 35
the Kjstna, flowing between rocky banks, and
seemingly without a ford ; his left flank and rear
were protected by the J uah, and in part by the vil
lage of Assaye: it would be very difificult to dis
lodge him from these points of vantage. His troops,
too, made an imposing show ; masses of infantry
stood in well-ordered array, thousands of horsemen
filled the surrounding plains ; more than a hundred
guns were drawn up in grim batteries. But Welles
ley knew how immense was the difference between
the British and the Asiatic soldier ; the odds against
him were, no doubt, prodigious ; but they were less
than those which Clive had faced at Plassy, and, as
in the case of Clive, the course of daring was the
course of prudence. So Hannibal had exclaimed
two thousand years before when he beheld a multi
tudinous host of the East, brought within the reach
of a few legions of Rome : " Yes that is a brave
army, and a brave show ; it will be enough for the
Romans, greedy as thfey are."
Having reconnoitred the ground with care, Welles
ley quickly made his dispositions for the attack.
The enemy's cavalry was his most formidable arm ;
its resplendent masses spread far on his right ; his
less trustworthy infantry held his left ; the British
General resolved to turn and to fall on this wing.
An accident, indicating Wellesley's admirable coup
d'ceil on the field, determined his well-designed
purpose ; a village on his side of the Kistna rose oppo
site to Assaye on the other side ; despite the assur
ances of his Indian guides, he calculated that there
must be a ford connecting the two : his movements

^6 Wellington
were made upon this assumption. ' His little army,
with only seventeen guns, made a long flank march
across the front of the enemy, covered indeed by the
Kistna, but dangerously exposed had Scindiah been
a capable chief ; it was, however, not molested in
this critical march ; its advanced guard had soon
safely mastered the ford. The hostile commanders
had missed the occasion ; they had not made an at
tempt to get over the river, and to fall on their ad
versary's imperilled flank ; they only effected a great
change of front, their inferior infantry filling the
space between the Kistna, the Juah, and Assaye;
their fine cavalry was rendered well-nigh useless.
WeUesley, his whole force now across the Kistna,
advanced rapidly against foes showing signs of weak
ness ; he directed his main effort against the Mah
ratta right: the result was hardly for a moment
doubtful. His few guns, indeed, were nearly
silenced ; a destructive fire thinned his line as it
pressed forward ; but a single Highland regiment,
backed by a body of native troops, carried every
thing before it at the point of the bayonet; the
routed enemy was soon in headlong flight. On
Wellesley's right the struggle was more stern and
prolonged ; the oflficer in command, mistaking his
orders, attacked Assaye, making a circuitous move-

' Wellington's only remark on this fine tactical inspiration was :
"That was common sense. When one is strongly intent on an
object, common sense will usually direct one to the right means."
Napoleon [Corr., xxxxi., 117, )thus commented on a somewhat similar
movement of Turennef "Cette circonstance ne paratt rien ; cepen
dant c'est ce rien qui est un des indices du genie de la guerre."

Career in India 37
ment ; a gap was opened in the British line ; a few
of the Mahratta squadrons made a brilhant charge.
But Wellesley pushed forward his handful of horse
men ; the enemy was driven back in defeat ; Assaye
was stormed by the 78th Highlanders ; as on the
left, the bayonet swept away every foe on the right.
Scindiah's army was soon in full retreat ; it had lost
all its guns and 4000 or 5000 men killed and
wounded ; an admirably planned attack, against
enormous odds, had led to a most decisive victory.
The operations of Wellesley at Assaye set at
naught the maxims of the military art, as these are
drawn from European warfare. He ought not, ac
cording to these principles, to have detached Steven
son and divided his forces ; he ought not to have
attacked in the absence of his lieutenant, with only
apart of avery small army, insignificant in size com
pared with its enemy ; he ought not to have made
a long flank march, so to speak, under Scindiah's
beard, and to have forded a river in the face of over
whelming numbers ; these moves would have been
fatal against an able general and really good troops.
Nevertheless, Wellesley adopted the true course;
a hundred fields had shown that the armed swarms
of the East could not make a stand against the
discipline of the West, however great the seeming
disproportion of strength ; his decision was that of a
master of war, and his conduct in the battle deserves
the highest praise. He acted like Miltiades at
Marathon, like Alexander before Arbela, like Colin
Campbell and Havelock, during the great Mutiny ;
the children of Shem, in all ages, save in a few

38 Wellington
instances, have been no match, in a fair fight, for
the children of Japheth. And had he retreated, he
would have been lost; Scindiah's horsemen would
have crossed the Kistna, would have hemmed in
and at last destroyed the small force that alone
stood in their way ; nothing would ultimately have
prevailed against their overpowering numbers. A
notable example of what such a retreat must have
been was unfortunately given a few months after
wards. I shall glance at Lord Lake's operations
against the Mahratta chiefs : here I shall only refer
to what happened to one of his best lieutenants.
In the summer of 1804, Lake, a very able but some
what incautious chief, had moved forward Colonel
Monson with 4000 or 5000 men, to a great
distance beyond the main army ; and Monson had
pushed forward outside the positions he had been
directed to hold in the lands of Malwa. Holkar
instantly prepared to cut his enemy off ; he reached
the Chambal, no doubt, in immensely superior
numbers ; and had Monson attacked like Wellesley
at Assaye — and certainly he had a better chance —
he might have plucked safety, nay, a brilliant tri
umph, out of danger : most unhappily he fell back
before his antagonist ; one of the most calamitous
of retreats followed ; the small British division was
all but cut to pieces and ruined in a march of hun
dreds of miles ; a mere shattered wreck drifted under
the walls of Agra. The comment of Wellesley was
brief but decisive : " These are woful examples of
the risk to be incurred by advancing too far without
competent supplies, and of the danger of attempting

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Career in India 39
to retreat before such an army as Holkar's. He
would have done much better to attack Holkar at
once, and he would probably have put an end to the
war.'" Wellesley did not attempt to pursue the defeated
army ; we may, perhaps, see here one of his pecu
liarities in war ; his were not the hghtning strokes of
Napoleon, in annihilating an enemy beaten in the
field. But he successfully closed a very brilliant
campaign. Stevenson, having joined him after
Assaye, was despatched to overrun Scindiah's
country ; he captured two of the Prince's strong
holds ; negotiations ensued, but they came to no
thing. Wellesley and Stevenson having come into
line, they now advanced northwards, and met the
hostile forces drawn up around the petty town of
Argaum, still greatly superior in numbers. The
British General was now at the head of 18,000 men;
he made his arrangements for ari immediate attack ;
the result of the battle was never doubtful, though
three native battalions were struck with panic, and
were only rallied by Wellesley himself. The enemy
was routed with hardly any loss to the victors ;
Wellesley laid siege to the fortress of Gawilghur, a
point of vantage not far from Argaum ; the place
was stormed after a feeble resistance. Meanwhile,
Lord Lake had struck decisive blows against the
confederacy of the Mahrattas in the north-west.
Scindiah was supreme in the League : he had made
Holkar and the Rajah of Berar his mere dependents ;

' Supplementar'V Despatches, iv. , 466.

40 Wellington
he was still a formidable and determined foe. He
had a powerful army upon the Jumna, commanded
by Perron, a French oflficer; he had made Shah
Alum, the Emperor in name, a vassal, and held him
captive in the old seat of his State, Delhi ; he had
stretched hands to the chiefs of the races in the
lands of the Punjaub. Lake, however, breaking up
from Cawnpore, had soon mastered the fortress of
Alhghur ; Delhi was stormed after a brilliant attack ;
the Mogul puppet was restored to his throne; the
important city of Agra fell. Perron had, mean
while, treated, and abandoned his troops ; his sub
ordinates followed his example, and gave themselves
up : the French alliance had proved worse than a
broken reed. The remains of Scindiah's army were
brought to bay by Lake, near the little town of
Laswarree ; the enemy made a gallant stand, but
the victory of the British chief was complete. Dur
ing these operations, though Scindiah's ally, Hol
kar had done little or nothing in the field : he had
acted after the fashion of Indian Princes seldom
really united against the common foe ; but after the
defeat of Monson he took up arms in great force
and even laid siege to the sacred city of Delhi.
Before this time Scindiah and the Rajah of Berar
had treated ; the negotiations were entrusted to the
victor of Assaye ; he obtained for the Company im
mense concessions. Holkar was soon afterwards
beaten off from Delhi, and completely defeated
near the fortress of Dieg. The power of the Mah
rattas was now shattered, and though Lake failed
against the stronghold of Bhurtpore, the confeder-

Career in India 41
acy which had been so threatening was broken up
for the time ; Hindustan was at peace, from the
Himalayas to Cape Comorin ; the ascendency of
the British arms had been once more established,
the borders of the Empire had been enlarged and
strengthened. The spirit of the trader, however, shortsighted
and mean, had again made its influence felt in the
Company ; the " forward " policy of Lord Wellesley
was condemned, — even the operations against the
Mahrattas, which may have saved India ; in Parlia
ment itself he was ill supported ; Pitt allowed the
aged Cornwallis to be placed in his stead. But his
resignation was deplored at Calcutta; addresses of
homage and regret poured in ; history has named
him as one of the greatest of our Proconsuls in Hin
dustan. He filled great oflfices, in after hfe, in the
State ; but he thought his administration of our
Empire in the East his best title to renown ; ''Super
et Garamantas et Indos Protulit Imperium " he de
signed as his epitaph. Arthur Wellesley, after the
defeat of Holkar, had been replaced in the govern
ment of Mysore, but he conceived that he had not
been well treated at home, though Parliament had
voted him its thanks with one voice, and George III.
had singled him out for a special mark of favour.
His letters at this time breathe a captious spirit ; in
truth he was a very ambitious man, and his temper
was irritable, even if, as a rule, kept under control ;
what we call amiability was not a part of his character.
But the people of Mysore understood his worth ; an
address from the natives of Seringapatam, in which

42 Wellington
they "implored the God of all castes and of all
nations to hear their constant prayer ; and whatever
greater affairs than the government of them might
call him, to bestow on him health, happiness, and
glory" is not the least in the splendid roll of his
honours. During the seven years of his career in
India, he had proved himself to be a real general
and had given promise of great achievements in the
field; but his civil administration had been even
more deserving of praise. With his brother he had
raised the Company to a moral height, which hap
pily was ever afterwards maintained ; he had put an
end to corruption within the limits of his rule ; he
had done justice to the Asiatic as well as to the
European ; he had set a magnificent example of
integrity, probity, and public virtue. We may
have some idea of what the effects of these quali
ties were, could we imagine one of Napoleon's
rapacious lieutenants put in his place ; had Massena
or Soult been governor of Mysore, the population
would have been driven to rise in arms ; the Mah
rattas would have found powerful allies ; our Em
pire would have been in no doubtful peril. Like Lord
Wellesley, Wellington used -to look back with pride
on India; after the reverse of Chillianwallah, when
in extreme old age, he contemplated leading an
army in India again, in order to restore authority
which he feared was shaken.

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"i:^;,;,^^5rEa« 80 from GTcmmA  85_
GF.Pul-iionC Sons,Zorulon., i NewYork

CHAPTER III
IRELAND — COPENHAGEN — VIMIERO
Wellesley at St. Helena — He is consulted by Pitt — His interview
with Nelson — He enters the House of Commons, and is made
Chief Secretary for Ireland, under the Duke of Richmond —
State of Ireland in 1807-1808 — Wellesley's marriage — His policy
and conduct when Chief Secretary — He commands a division at
the siege of Copenhagen — Napoleon's designs against the Iberian
Peninsula — March of Junot on Lisbon — Napoleon extorts the
crown of Spain from the Spanish Bourbons — Great national
rising of Spain — Reverses of the French — Baylen — The British
Government interferes — Rising of Portugal — Wellesley lands at
Mondego Bay — Burrard — Dalrymple — Wellesley's pian of oper
ations — Rolica — Vimiero — Defeat of Junot — The convention of
Cintra — The Court of Inquiry.
GENERAL Wellesley touched at St. Helena on
his voyage home from India ; he had been in
bad health for some months ; he dwelt in let
ters on the salubrious air of the island ; this incident
possibly may have affected the decision of the AUies,
many years afterwards, as to the spot that was selected
for Napoleon's exile. On his return to England, he
was consulted by Pitt, who had the highest opinion as
to the sagacity of his views, on the expediency of des
patching a body of British troops to the seaboard of
the North, in order to lend a hand to Prussia, already
43

44 Wellington
meditating, in a half-hearted way, falling upon Na
poleon in his first great march on Vienna ; but Wel
lesley declared that the project was not feasible*;
Austerhtz had erelong decided the contest. Nelson
at this time was about to take command of the fleet
which was to annihilate the navies of France and
Spain on the great and terrible day of Trafalgar;
his only interview with Wellesley has been well de
scribed ; one warrior had already made England the
mistress of the seas ; the other was to restore her
military power on the land. Wellesley, even after
his feats of arms in India, at first obtained only a
brigade at home ; he not unreasonably chafed at this
appointment ; but he was soon afterwards made full
colonel of the 33rd, the regiment in which he had
made his earliest mark in the field. He entered the
House of Commons of the United Parliament for
the Borough of Rye ; the Ministry of " All the Tal
ents " were now in oflfice ; he took his seat, in the
main, for the purpose of defending Lord Wellesley
from the attacks of an obscure Scotsman, who was
threatening to repeat against the great Proconsul
charges like those made in the case of Hastings.
These accusations, however, came to nothing ; on
the fall of the Ministry of Fox and Grenville, due to
the obstinacy of George IIL, as regards the Catholic
claims, and when a Tory Government came again

' Pitt's estimate of Wellesley deserves to be quoted: "I never met a
military officer with whom it is so satisfactory to converse. He
states every difficulty before he undertakes any service, but never
after he has undertaken it. " — Sir H. Maxwell, Life of Wellington,

Ireland — Copenhagen — Vimiero 45
into power, Wellesley was made Chief Secretary for
Ireland, under the Duke of Richmond, a Viceroy
whose only distinction was the splendid hospitality
which still lives among the traditions of the Irish
capital. Wellesley accepted this place on the ex
press condition that it was not to interfere with his
military career ; he was erelong to be called into a
nobler sphere of action. Some months before this
time he had married Catherine Pakenham, the well-
known " Kitty " of Maria Edgeworth, a lady to
whom he had been engaged many years before, when
he was a youthful aide-de-camp of Lord Westmore
land; their troth was honourably kept by both but the
marriage can hardly be pronounced fortunate. The
future Duchess was an amiable and affectionate
wife, but not a woman of mental gifts ; she was not
a fit mate for one of the greatest men of his age,
whose nature, besides, was unsympathetic and stern.
Ireland was in a deplorable state, and extremely
ill-governed, when Wellesley was virtually made the
head of the Castle. The Rebellion of 1798 had been
suppressed, but fires were alive under the smould
ering ashes ; the rising of Emmet was a dangerous
symptom ; the leaders of the United Irishmen had
been received by Napoleon, with the welcome he
gave to men whom he wished to make his tools ; an
Irish Legion, akin to the Old Brigade, had been
formed ; it had been encamped along the coasts of
Brittany to co-operate with the Grand Army in the
projected descent on England. In the war now
being waged between England and France, the im
mense majority of Irishmen might be reckoned as

46 Wellington
our foes ; a hostile landing in Leinster, in Munster,
in Connaught, would have united against us five-
sixths of the people. The Union, too, by destroying
the Irish Parliament, had provoked widespread con
stitutional discontent ; the pledges which had practi
cally been given by Pitt, to effect a settlement of
the Catholic cause, had been broken, partly owing
to the Minister himself, partly to the purblind
bigotry of a half-mad King ; the Irish Catholics were
disaffected to a man, if we except a small minority
of the principal landed gentry. The institutions of
the country, besides, had remained based on the bad
assumption that a mere oligarchy of race and faith
was to be supreme ; the Protestant establishment,
an appanage of the men in oflfice, and a symbol of
confiscation and conquest, was a preserve for less
than a fifth part of the nation ; the Catholic Church,
representing the mass of Irishmen, was kept down
in degraded subjection. Protestant ascendency
monopolised all high places in the State; the Irish
Catholics were still largely excluded from its pale.
The condition of Ireland, at this time, was so critical
that even Grattan, the noble champion of her rights,
had assented to measures of severe repression; in
fact, the population could be only held down by
the sword. Simultaneously Irish public opinion had
been distorted and envenomed by the extinction of
the Irish Parhament, an organ of national sentiment
in a certain sense; and the representation of the
whole country had been made distinctly worse. The
Liberal party, which in College Green had powerfully
supported the Catholic claims, and other wise and

Ireland — Copenhagen — Vimiero 4 7
enlightened reforms, had still eminent names at
Westminster, but it was swamped by a majority of
the United Parliament ; it was now well-nigh reduced
to impotence. And bad as the representation of the
country was in the Irish Parliament, it had markedly
deteriorated in the greater Assembly. It was still
mainly in the hands of the great Irish families ; but,
even more than ever had been the case before, it had
become the instrument of the most odious corrup
tion ; Irish seats were either engrossed by the gov
ernment, or were shamelessly bought and sold in the
open market. Worse than anything else, perhaps,
the social conditions of the country were in the
highest degree vicious, in fact, pregnant with mani
fold evils. The tithes of the Established Church
were wrung from the Catholic tillers of the soil ;
hundreds of the landed gentry never beheld their
estates, or had sublet them to rack-renting tyrants ;
even the resident landlords were in many instances
the harsh superiors of a down-trodden peasantry.
The pernicious results of this state of things were
seen in illegal associations of many kinds, and in
lawless and widespread disorders.
Wellesley was at the Castle a few months only;
his conduct in his oflfice was characteristic of the
man. He was a subordinate of a Tory Ministry, en
gaged in an internecine and, as yet, in a not suc
cessful contest, and governing Ireland on the old
bad principles, without a thought of change or re
form ; he faithfully carried out the instructions he
received, and kept himself strictly within his inferior
sphere. He was elected for Tralee, the chief town

48 Wellington
of the County of Kerry, through the customary
means of corrupt patronage ; strange to say, O'Con
nell, then a rising lawyer, in after years an adversary
of the most formidable kind, was already making his
mark on the Munster Circuit ; but as yet the warrior
and the great tribune had not crossed each other.
Wellesley devoted his time to the manipulation of
Irish seats for the supporters of the Government in
the House of Commons ; he stooped to bribery and
similar arts, as a soldier obeys his oflficers' commands ';
he framed measures of repression, as a matter of
course ; in common with all the Tories of the day,
he looked upon Ireland as a conquered and rebel
lious country, a natural ally of France, to be ruled
by sheer force. Yet though he ran in the grooves
of a vicious routine, his capacity as Chief Secretary
was not wholly obscured. He laid down an excel
lent plan for the military defence of Ireland, on the
assumption of French invaders landing on her
shores, and of a general rising of a disaffected
people ; his observations are even now of value ; the
dream of a " Pacata Hibernia " is still an illusion '
• These few lines from a letter of Wellesley illustrate the Parlia
mentary corruption of Ireland at this time. " Evan Foulkes, Esqr.,
of Southampton Street, London, to be the member for Tralee
. . . Mr. Justice Day, Mr. Handcock and Mr. Pennefather to
draw upon Messers. Drummond for ;^500o British cash at ten days
sight. ... It will be convenient to us if you can delay to give
them these directions.''
'' These remarks of Wellesley on the state of Ireland in 1807 are not
wholly inapplicable to the state of Ireland in 1903, notwithstanding all
that has taken place in that interval of time : " The people are dis
affected to the British Government, they don't feel the benefits of
their situation ; attempts to render it better do not reach their minds."

Ireland — Copenhagen — Vim iero 49
He waged a steady war, as Peel did a few years
afterwards, against the jobbery for minor places, and
the low corruption, which marked the regime of the
Castle ; it was enough for him to traflfic for Irish
seats ; he did something to cleanse an Augean stable.
Above all, in this far superior to Peel, who resisted
the Catholic claims on principle, he perceived that
Protestant ascendency was a dangerous state of
things ; he wrote sharply against absentee and unjust
landlords, and against the abuses in the Established
Church: he saw that something would ultimately
have to be done for Catholic Ireland. If his utter
ances on the subject are not distinct, in this he was
consistent with his attitude in 1793, and with his
attitude, as Minister, in 1829. Wellesley gave proof,
certainly, of ability in his present oflfice ; but un
questionably his views on Irish affairs were never
marked by the profound wisdom he displayed in
the province of European politics ; the associations
of Protestant ascendency clung to him to the last.
As he had stipulated, when the occasion arose,
Wellesley was transferred from the Castle to his
more proper sphere, the camp. The Treaty of Tilsit
was a hollow compact, but it made Napoleon the
lord of nearly half of the continent ; Prussia was for
the moment utterly crushed ; Austria had missed an
opportunity, and meekly bowed to the conqueror ;
Alexander had agreed to follow in the wake of the
victor of Friedland ; and was animated, besides, by
intense dislike of England, whose vacillating policy
he deeply resented. In this position of affairs, the
two potentates made professions of offering peace to

CO Wellington
England ; and while Napoleon had resolved to carry
out to the utmost his audacious design of " subduing
the land by the sea," and of excluding England
from all commerce with Europe, by means of what
is known as the Continental System, the new alhes
prepared to combine all the navies they could con
trol in a decisive attack on the Mistress of the Seas.
This boasted league, if carried into effect, would
give the Emperors a superiority of force on paper,
though, probably, it would have only led to a second
Trafalgar ; and Denmark, a nation of brave seamen
— they had shown what they were in iSoi — pos
sessed a strong and well-equipped fleet, which could
be made available should it pass into the hands of our
enemies. Canning, when made aware of the secret
articles of Tilsit, determined to keep this armament
out of Napoleon's clutches ; a formidable expedition
was sent from England to demand a surrender of
the Danish fleet, to be held as a pledge until peace
should have been made ; Lord Cathcart was at the
head of a land force of 27,000 men ; Wellesley and
his old comrade, Baird, were in command of two of
its divisions. The Crown Prince of Denmark indig
nantly refused to accept terms which he deemed an
affront, and which nothing could justify but a most
grave crisis ; Copenhagen was invested by land and
by sea ; the result was never for a moment doubtful.
Wellesley fought a successful action at Roskilde,
easily defeating levies of armed peasants. There is
nothing remarkable in his conduct, except that, with
the humanity which was one of his qualities, he
wished to save Copenhagen from bombardment, and

NAPOLEON IN HIS STUDY,
(From a steel engraving.)

Ireland — Copenhagen — Vimiero 5 1
to compel a capitulation by cutting off its supplies.
Cathcart, however, adopted the sterner course; a
considerable part of the city was destroyed; the
Danes found it impossible to hold out ; their fleet
was in a few days on its way to England.
Napoleon, meanwhile, had been straining every
nerve to shut England out from trade with the Con
tinent, and to strike a mortal blow at his one re
maining enemy. British merchandise was seized
along an immense seaboard ; British subjects were
imprisoned on different pretexts ; an attempt was
made to raise a Chinese Wall against England in
five-sixths of Europe. At the same time he made
strenuous efforts to increase his naval power ; squad
rons were sent into the Mediterranean to threaten
Sicily to be annexed to Joseph's kingdom of
Naples ; from Dantzic and Riga to Trieste, all
around the Continent, his vassals and allies were
directed to make war upon British commerce ; his
policy was, to some extent, furthered by the anger
which the expedition to Copenhagen had aroused in
the councils of the lesser maritime Powers. His eyes
had soon turned towards the Iberian Peninsula, and
had fastened on Portugal in the first instance. That
little state, an ancient ally of England, had been
tossed to and fro in the tremendous conflict which had
raged, with scarcely an interruption, since 1793 ; but
it had inclined at heart to its British protector ; it
had numberless associations with British traders.
It was now ruled by a Regent, in the place of an in
sane sovereign ; Napoleon peremptorily commanded
him to close his ports against British ships, and,

52 Wellington
without any declaration of war, to seize the persons
and the property of British merchants at this time
in Portugal. The Regent, a weak and incapable
ruler, endeavoured to make a compromise, but to no
purpose: Napoleon resolved to invade Portugal,
an object he had already had in view. A French
Army, about 25,000 strong, was gradually gathered
together at Bayonne ; it was backed by other forces
already menacing Spain ; Junot, a dashing soldier,
was placed at its head.' He had crossed the Bidas
soa, in October, 1 807; meantime a treaty had been
made at Fontainebleau between the French Em
peror and the Court of Spain ; Portugal was to be
dismembered and given in part to Godoy, the
favourite of Charles IV. and his adulterous Queen ;
a Spanish Army was to be employed to support
Junot. Whether this compact was in any sense
sincere, or was a mere mask to conceal the designs
Napoleon entertained against the Spanish Bourbons
can only be matter for conjecture ; but it secured
Junot the aid of a Spanish contingent ; he invaded
Portugal with perhaps 40,000 men, to a considerable
extent very inferior soldiers. He had been ordered
to advance by the route of Ciudad Rodrigo ; but
Napoleon changed his mind, and to ensure celerity
bade him press forward along the banks of the
Tagus ; the invaders 'plunged into an almost im
passable country and lost thousands of men on the
march : scarcely 2000 spectres in rags reached Lis
bon by the close of November, leaving a wretched
' The very valuable History of the Peninsular War by Mr. Oman
begins at this point,

•Ireland — Copenhagen — Vimiero 5 3
multitude of stragglers far behind. The Regent
ought to have crushed this handful of men ; but the
terror of Napoleon's arms prevailed : he fled from
his capital, and with the Court crossed the Atlantic
under the escort of a British fleet ; Junot had soon
taken possession of Lisbon.
By this time, Napoleon had matured his projects
against Spain. That unfortunate land, under an
imbecile Government, had been in decline for many
years ; but Spain had made herself a satellite of
France : she had lavished her resources on an exacting
ally ; she had offered up her Navy, at Trafalgar, with
out hope, as a sacrifice. But Napoleon had resolved
on annexing the kingdom ; he was partly moved
to his purpose by the obvious reason that a Bourbon
dynasty on the throne of Spain was a possible
menace to Revolutionary France ; partly by a deter
mination to enforce the Continental System ; partly
by a real wish to regenerate a people shamefully
ruled ; and to create institutions in Spain of the
Imperial type. Personal resentment, too, played a
distinct part ; Godoy, the evil genius of the Spanish
Monarchy, had issued a proclamation before Jena,
calling on the Spanish nation to take up arms, and a
threat, evidently directed against France. From this
time the fate of Spain was resolved on ; Talleyrand
not improbably seconded his master's policy, though
he did not approve of the acts of fraud and violence
that were soon to follow. In the autumn of 1807
and the first days of 1808, French troops were
poured into Spain on different pretexts ; the Spanish
frontier fortresses were treacherously seized ; in a

54 Wellington
short time nearly 100,000 men were encamped be
yond the southern verge of the Pyrenees, and occu
pied the chief approaches to Madrid. The miserable
intrigues of the Spanish royal family, an odious
exhibition of squahd discord, may perhaps have
quickened Napoleon's purpose, but it appears cer
tain that, long before these events, he had marked
Spain down as a spoil for his arms. Godoy, supreme
in the councils of Charies IV. and the Queen, got
wind of the Emperor's evident designs ; he urged
his dupes to imitate the example of the Portuguese
Regent, and to take ship for Spanish America ; but
a rising at Aranjuez put an end to this scheme ; he
was maltreated by a furious populace; the King
abdicated, and his son Ferdinand was placed in his
stead. By this time the North of Spain had been
flooded with French troops ; Murat, as lieutenant
of Napoleon, occupied Madrid ; he refused to recog
nise Ferdinand's title to the throne, obeying the
Machiavellian commands of his master. Ferdinand
was now skilfully enticed to Bayonne, where Napo
leon, holding the threads of an infamous intrigue,
had gone in order to effect his object ; Charles IV.,
his consort, and Godoy fell at the conqueror's feet ;
after dishonourable scenes of recrimination and
passion, a renunciation of all right to the crown of
Spain was extorted from the whole royal family.
Napoleon, like fate, swaying his puppets to his will.
The victims of this crime were banished into gilded
exile in France; as if in irony Talleyrand was made
their keeper.
The conduct of Napoleon at this juncture was

Ireland — Copenhagen — Vimiero 5 5
perhaps the worst of his political acts ; it was a com
bination of evil statecraft, and wrong ; it was fat
more censurable than what he had done at Venice.
Years afterwards, in the solitude of St. Helena, he
acknowledged that it was profoundly immoral, and
that the end he proposed to himself, the regenera
tion of Spain, was not justified by the detestable
means. He transferred the throne of Spain, made
vacant in this way, to his amiable, but not able
elder brother, Joseph, placing Murat on Joseph's
throne of Naples; a Junta of nobles, high ecclesi
astics, and ofificials was assembled to confirm the
choice of the conqueror. Napoleon, occupying a
large part of the Peninsula by his armies, believed
that his success had been completely assured ; he
was convinced that he could exclaim with Louis
XIV., that the Pyrenees had been effaced as a bar
rier. But the great despot, hitherto accustomed
only to deal with peoples of a very different type,
had not reckoned on the nature of a proud and ob
stinate race, which had held Rome at bay for more
than a century and a half; and which, only three
generations before this time, had risen against the
Pretender of the House of Hapsburg, and against
the heretic English and Dutch, when the position
of affairs appeared desperate. The nation sprang to
arms as a man ; the mountaineers of Asturias lit the
flame ; it spread into Galicia and Leon ; like a con
flagration blazing from many a range of hills, it
illuminated Andalusia and the Eastern Kingdoms;
it was an ubiquitous and universal movement. The
regular armies — they were less contemptible than

56 Wellington
has been supposed — were swept into the general
rising ; self-governing Juntas established themselves ;
and though vengeance was taken, in too many in
stances, on the partisans of the French usurper, and
there was a fierce outbreak of Revolutionary pas
sion, the insurrection was a grand, nay, an heroic
spectacle. The results were seen in a very short
time ; they astounded a Continent that had licked
the feet of Napoleon. Bessi6res, holding the great
line of communication between Bayonne and Madrid,
no doubt won a battle at Medina Rio Seco, and
scattered in flight the rude levies of the West. But
notwithstanding the great force which the Emperor
had perfidiously moved into Spain, the French arms
were unsuccessful everywhere else. Moncey was
driven back from Valencia in defeat ; Lefebvre Des-
noettes was foiled before Saragossa, a memorable
name. Erelong a terrible disaster took place, which
threw a dark shadow on the Imperial glories, and
was execrated by Napoleon, through his life, as an
indelible military disgrace. Dupont, after invading
Andalusia and sacking Cordova with reckless
cruelty, was caught on the verge of the Sierra
Morena, and compelled to lay down his arms with
some 20,000 men. The blow seemed for the
moment decisive ; Joseph evacuated Madrid in hot
haste, and took refuge behind the hne of the Ebro.
The great rising of Spain made a profound im
pression on England ; the leading parties and men
in the State gave it heartfelt sympathy. It was the
first symptom of a real national effort to shake off
the yoke which Napoleon had laid on the Conti-

Ireland — Copenhagen — Vi^miero 5 7
nent ; Pitt had predicted before his death that there
would be such a movement. The Junta of the
Asturias had judiciously sent two emissaries to
England to plead their cause ; Parliament pro
nounced for an armed intervention in Spain. This
resolve was quickened by an insurrection in Portu
gal, not so fierce or so general as that of Spain, but
formidable enough to menace Junot, and to embarrass
him, cut off as he now was from France ; the British
Ministers determined, in the summer of 1808, to
make a descent on the Iberian Peninsula, and to send
an armed force to support the insurgents. The
British army was now much more powerful and
more eflficient, as an instrument of war, than it had
been in 1793-1794, when it had made its unfortu
nate essays in the Low Countries. Its organisation,
indeed, was still very defective ; the bad influence
of favouritism still hung on it ; it was very different
from the mighty force, which in the language of
Wellington at a subsequent time, "could go any
where and do anything." But its numbers had
been largely increased by a regular admixture with
the militia ; it had been improved by the reforms of
the Duke of York ; Moore, the most brilhant, per
haps, of living British soldiers, had done much to
make its tactics better, more flexible, more adapted
to modern war : as usually happens in a great and
free country, comparatively young men had made
their mark in it ; its discipline, if severe, was excel
lent; it reckoned Alexandria and Maida among
recent victories, in which it had fairly beaten the
renowned legions of France. The Ministry, at this

58 Wellington
juncture, possessed the means of sending a consid
erable expedition to the Peninsula, unlike the petty
expeditions despatched in former years, from our
shores. Trafalgar had made invasion hopeless;
Wellesley was in command of 9000 men, intended
to attack the Spanish-American Colonies ; propitious
fortune favoured him once more; he was directed
to sail with this force from Cork to Portugal. He
was to be joined by General Spencer with 5000
troops from Gibraltar and Cadiz ; Generals An
struther and Acland were to embark from England
with about 4000 men, Moore was to be despatched
from the Baltic with 10,000 men. An army, there
fore, nearly 30,000 strong, was to be assembled
and to land on the Portuguese seaboard ; this was
a bold enterprise, of which the credit was due to
Castlereagh. Wellesley had been made a lieutenant-general by
this time ; but he was the junior officer of that rank
in the British army : remarkable as his career in
India had been, he was to be placed under the com
mand of Burrard and Dalrymple, veterans of the
past, who were to mar the operations that ensued.
For the moment, however, he was given a free hand
to direct his own forces and those of Spencer; it
was characteristic of him that, on his voyage from
Cork, he endeavoured to make himself acquainted
with the Spanish tongue. Having preceded the ex
pedition in a light vessel, he had interviews with the
Galician Junta, and with the leaders of the rising in
Portugal ; but he was not favourably impressed by
their boastful reports; he resolved to confine his

Ireland — Copenhagen — Vimiero 5 9
movements to the interior and the seacoast of Por
tugal. He was now at the head of rather more than
13,000 men, Spencer having come into line with him.
The landing was effected at Mondego Bay, a consid
erable distance to the north of Lisbon ; it was com
pleted in the first days of August; this.^ was the
beginning of the great Peninsular War, with respect,
at least, to the arms of England. Wellesley lost
some days from a deplorable want of means of
transport, a delay that told greatly in the enemy's
favour, who otherwise might have been taken by
surprise : he was in full march by the 14th of
August ; the plan of his operations had been ar
ranged. His object was to attack and defeat Junot,
known to be in Lisbon with a large part of the
French army. Wellesley's project, though ques
tionable in pure strategy, was, nevertheless, essen
tially well conceived. He resolved to move, with
his own force, along the coast-line, protected on his
right flank by the British fleet ; but he knew that
Moore with his 10,000 men was at hand ; he pro
posed that Moore should march inland on Santarem,
and that the united army should converge on Lis
bon, bringing Junot to bay, and driving him away
from that capital. This advance on a double line
was opposed to the ordinary rules of the art, but it
has long ago been justified by the best critics of war ;
it may be compared to Napoleon's movement against
Wurmser on both shores of the Lake of Garda,'

' For Wellesley's plan of operations, see Gurwood's Selection, p.
231, an excellent work. Napier's History of the Peninsular War,
i., 1061, Routledge Edition, completely justifies Wellesley.

6o Wellington
after Castiglione, and the raising of the siege of
Mantua. It deserves special notice that Wellesley,
one of the greatest masters of tactics, was con
vinced, even at this time, that the French mode of
attack in the field would probably fail against the
robur peditum of the British army : the Column, he
felt assured, was no match for the Line, as the
Carthaginian Phalanx was no match for the Roman
Legion. '
By this time Junot had, since the preceding winter,
established himself in his late conquest — Lisbon.
He kept the capital down by threats and by force ;
his administration of it was marked by the fraudulent
rapine and by the severities which, as a rule, dis
graced the French generals in Portugal and Spain,
and were not the least causes of the Emperor's
failure. ' He had reorganised and strengthened his
exhausted army, and though it was still to some ex
tent an assemblage of conscripts, it had several regi
ments of good soldiers ; the cavalry and artillery
were eflficient arms ; it had soon reached the number
of 30,000 Frenchmen. For months Junot felt him-
' Wellesley's remarks to Croker are well known. See Sir H. Max
well's Lifeof Wellington, i., 97-98 : "My die is cast ; the French
may overwhelm me, but I don't think they will outmanoeuvre me.
First, because I am not afraid of them, as everybody else seems
to be ; and secondly, because, if what I hear of their system of
manoeuvres is true, I think it a false one, as against steady troops.
I suspect all the Continental Armies were more than half beaten be
fore the battle was begun. I, at least, will not be frightened
beforehand." ' The conduct of Junot and of the French at Lisbon is well de
scribed by Thiebault, who was Junot's Chief of the Staff. Mimoires,
iv., 139, 199.

Ireland — Copenhagen — Vimiero 6 1
self completely secure, and spent his time in idle
pleasures in Lisbon ; but he was roused from this
dalliance by the insurrection of Spain ; this suddenly
made his situation one of real danger. He lost part
of his Spanish contingent, and was compelled to dis
arm and imprison the remaining part ; the popula
tion of Lisbon became menacing, and seemed eager
to take up arms ; Portugal had soon risen in insur
rection, like Spain ; he was cut off from communica
tion with France ; he obtained no assistance from a
Russian fleet in the Tagus, the commander of which
was secretly hostile ; he received intelligence that a
British force might make a descent. His position,
no doubt, had become critical, and he gave proof of
a rather fitful energy ; but his measures were not
those of a real general. He did not form an en
trenched camp to defend Lisbon, as Wellesley did
on a greater occasion ; he left too many of his troops
in the capital, — dangerous negligence in the existing
state of affairs. Above all, he made no strenuous ef
forts to concentrate his army against enemies known
to be at hand : he kept garrisons in fortresses to no
purpose ; he allowed a detachment to remain on the
eastern bank of the Tagus, where it could hardly be
of any conceivable use.' In a word, he did not as
semble his forces toward the decisive scene of action,
which he must have known would be where the British
army would appear ; a third part at least of these
were turned to no account and wasted. He heard,
however, almost at once of the landing of Wellesley,
' For the faulty dispositions of Junot see the admirable observa
tions of Napoleon. Thiebault, Mimoires, iv., 261, 271.

52 Wellington
and he prepared with his present means to confront
his enemy ; the delay that followed the landing was
a godsend to him. He sent forward Laborde, a
skilful officer, with some 6000 men, to hold the
British chief in check ; he directed a heutenant, Loi-
son, who had been on the other bank of the Tagus,
to march by Santarem and to join Laborde ; he
made ready with the main army to march out of
Lisbon, and to offer battle to Wellesley near Torres
Vedras. He left, however, a large detachment be
hind — clinging to his error at the critical moment.
Wellesley, meanwhile, had been marching along
the coast-line, by Leira and Alcobaca, to attack
Junot. Laborde had advanced to meet the British
General ; but rightly fell back to a defensive position
in the midst of a plain enclosed by hills, through
which the road from Obidos to Torres Vedras and
Lisbon passes. The French General first took his
stand on an eminence near RoHca, a petty village.
He was assailed with greatly superior forces on the
17th of August, Wellesley endeavouring to sur
round him on both flanks ; but he effected his escape
with admirable skill, and took another position a
short way off, in the rear, on a range of wooded
heights, by the hamlet of Columbeira. The attack
was repeated in the same manner ; but the outflank
ing movement was made late ; the British suffered a
good deal in a frontal attack ; but the second posi
tion was at last carried ; the French lost three guns,
and perhaps 500 men in the combat. Laborde, how
ever, whose irianoeuvres had deserved the highest
praise, retreated, scarcely molested, to join his chief ;

Ireland — Copenhagen — Vimiero 63
the loss of Wellesley was about the same as that of
his enemy ; more than one of his subordinates might
have done better; in fact they were not equal to
their adversaries in an encounter of this kind.
Loison, meantime, after a very fatiguing march, had
reached Torres Vedras from Santarem ; Laborde had
fallen back some miles to the southward. Junot
had marched out of Lisbon on the 15th of August ;
by the 19th his two lieutenants had joined him ;
Junot, on the next day, resolved to attack Wellesley,
now at Vimiero, at a short distance. The French
General was at the head of nearly 14,000 men ; he
had nearly 2000 good cavalry ; his artillery num
bered twenty-three guns.
Anstruther and Acland had disembarked by the
20th of August ; they brought Wellesley a reinforce
ment of some 4000 men. The veteran Burrard was
in their wake, but fortunately he did not assume the
command ; Wellesley, now at Vimiero for two or
three days, was allowed to make his arrangements
for the battle at hand. The position he chose was
one of formidable strength ; but, in the case of a re
verse, by no means free from danger. His right and
right centre, where he placed his main force, rested
on a line of steep and broken heights, exceedingly
difificult to be stormed by an enemy ; but should such
an effort prove successful, the defeated Army would
be close to the sea, and would find it no easy task to
retreat. Before the British centre rose an isolated
hill, affording excellent means of defence ; Wellesley
occupied this with some 3000 men ; it was favourable
for the play of artillery ; it was, perhaps, the key of

64 Wellington
the position of the British centre. The left of
Wellesley held his weakest ground ; this was a low
range of hills, sinking down by degrees, and capable
of being turned at its verge ; but it was covered by
a kind of ravine on its front, which ran like a huge
fosse before this part of the line. The whole of
WeUesley's front spread along a short space, so that
his troops could be quickly moved from one point to
another ; this was fortunate in the events which fol
lowed. He was now in command of "not far from
17,000 British troops; to these should be added
some 2000 Portuguese, rude and ill-armed levies of
very little value. He was, besides, exceedingly weak
in cavalry, having only about 260 British sabres ; he
had not more than eighteen guns.
Clouds of dust rising along the road from Torres
Vedras disclosed the approach of the French Army
in the early forenoon of the 21st of August. Junot
was recklessly impatient to begin the attack ; he may
have learned that British reinforcements were at
hand ; but his dispositions gave proof of precipitate
haste. He hardly reconnoitred the ground at all ' ;
he left detachments behind which might have joined
him ; his soldiers were fatigued by a march under a
burning sun ; he did not give them even an hour to
rest. He was not, however, without coup d'ceil on
the field ; the plan of his attack was not badly con
ceived, though in executing it unpardonable mistakes
were made. He, probably, wisely avoided Welles-
' Napoleon fastened on this palpable error of his lieutenant.
Thiebault, Mimoires, iv., 265. " Rien ne peut justifier I'attaque
d'une position qui n'a pas ete reconnue. ''

Ireland — Copenhagen — Vimiero 6 5
ley's right, for this part of the position was of great
strength ; he properly decided on turning his ad
versary's left, while he would fall on the British
centre in front with the mass of his army. But the
outflanking movement was made with much too
small a force, and the distance to be traversed by
the French was great and diflficult ; Wellesley was
given time to detach from his right to support his
left, and thus to be superior to his enemy on this
part of the field. Meanwhile Junot had marched
against the hill in advance of the British centre ; the
French soldiery came on in their wonted dashing
style, but they were mown down by the destructive
fire of the enemy's infantry, and charged by the
overlapping line as the shaken columns fell back ;
the attack was boldly repeated three times ; but it
had never a' chance of a successful issue. Wellesley
made a counterstroke with his handful of cavalry ;
but as too commonly has happened with British
troopers, they rushed forward too far, and got out of
control ; they were charged by a superior body of
Junot's horsemen, which covered the retreat of the
already broken infantry. Meantime the battle had
gone decisively against the French on Wellesley's
left, which had only been weakly menaced. While
the British centre was being assailed, Junot, seeing
that the outflanking movement had not sufficient
support, detached a brigade of his army to second
this attack ; but this body of men was almost de
stroyed by the superior forces which Wellesley had
sent off to the aid of his left. Brennier, the leader
of the outflanking movement, having been retarded

66 Wellington
by the ravine he unexpectedly met, and having been
compelled to make a long circuitous march, made a
gallant attempt to retrieve the fortunes of the day ;
but he, too, was completely beaten, in turn, and
driven back in precipitate flight. The whole of
Junot's army was now falling back in confusion ; its
retreat was covered by its stiff nearly intact cavalry ;
but it had lost half its guns, and fully 2300 men ; it
would have been scattered in rout by a bold, decisive
stroke. Assuredly Wellesley would have dealt this blow ;
he had lost little more than 700 men ; his troops
were in the full flush of victory ; he could easily
have cut Junot off from Lisbon, and driven him, in
ruin, across the hills on Santarem, where, probably,
he would have been forced to lay down his arms.
But the purpose of the British commander was
crossed by Burrard, who reached the scene when the
battle was won ; the timid veteran forbade any at
tempt at a pursuit ; he announced that he would
make a halt until he had been joined by the 10,000
men of Moore, who, in opposition to Wellesley's
plan, had been ordered not to march on Santarem,
but to come into line with the main army by sea.
The vexation of Wellesley may be conceived ; the
fruits of victory had been wrested from his grasp ;
Junot and his beaten forces had been allowed to
escape ; they reached Torres Vedras unmolested,
and were free tp return to Lisbon. Dalrymple super
seded Burrard on the 22nd of August ; the change
of commanders, seldom a judicious course, made
what was already bad enough, worse ; Dalrymple

Ireland — Copenhagen — Vimiero 6 7
decided on prolonging the halt ; he would not even
menace the enemy until Moore had effected his
junction with him ; this involved a delay of eight or
nine days, during which Junot might, perhaps, have
made a successful stand at Lisbon. But the French
commander, after Vimiero, had lost heart : he had
been defeated in a battle that could have been made
decisive ; he was isolated in a hostile country ; he
could not expect to hold Lisbon for any time, or to
make his way through Spain, insurgent as it was, from
the Tagus to the Pyrenean frontier. He sent Keller-
man, the brilliant chief of Marengo, to offer terms,
which Dalrymple was glad to accept : the French
army was to quit Lisbon, and to evacuate Portugal ;
it was to be conducted to France in British transports.
Wellesley chafed against these proposals, but could
not resist them ; the Convention of Cintra, as it was
called, was signed ; Junot and his army were before
long at sea ; they were at length safely landed on
the shores of their country. The Convention of
Cintra was not, perhaps, the pusillanimous act it has
generally been supposed, but it aroused a storm of
indignation in England, where timidity in the field
has always been fiercely condemned ; Byron has
indicated, in bitter verses, the tone of the opinion of
the day. A Court of Enquiry was soon held ; the
report was cautious, undecided, and to little purpose ;
but enough transpired to free Wellesley from blame,
and to mark him out for future distinction. Burrard
and Dalrymple were never placed in command again.
The Campaign of Vimiero is of real interest ; it
was the first instance in which Wellesley commanded

68 WeUinsion

V5

a British against a French army. His dispositions,
if not very remarkable, were excellent, and not un-
worthy of the victor of Assaye. He was never su
preme in the grand sphere of strategy, but his
project of an advance in double lines to close round
Junot, as if in a vice, if it has been censured, was
worthy of high praise. His right at Vimiero was
in danger, in a certain sense; but the enemy did
not dare to attack it ; he showed his characteristic
resource in arraying his army in the field ; the
movement by which he detached from his right to
strengthen his left was perfectly conceived. He
conducted the battle with judgment and insight : had
he not been superseded by Burrard at the decisive
moment, the French army must have been com
pletely routed. The arrangements of his adversary
were, from first to last, ill-considered, and not those
of a true commander. Junot might have assembled
at least 20,000 men to give battle to Wellesley, had
he understood war ; he left too great a force behind
him in Lisbon ; he never entrenched himself in a
position outside the city. At Vimiero he was cul
pably rash ; he attacked his enemy without examin
ing the ground ; if he was correct in his idea that he
ought to turn Wellesley's left, the execution of this
movement was a series of mistakes. He was fortu
nate in escaping the fate of Dupont : had Wellesley
been free to act, Junot would, all but certainly, have
succumbed. As for the armies that encountered
each other in this short passage of war, they gave
proof of the qualities by which they were long dis
tinguished. The French were as yet superior in skill

Ireland — Copenhagen — Vimiero 69
in manoeuvring ; their three arms worked together
better than those of their enemy ; they were more
agile and ready in the field. But they had nothing
to equal the British infantry, when on the defensive ;
their masses were unable to contend against the
British line, with its enveloping fire, and with its de
termined and steady onset. On the other hand, the
British army was still slow when on the march : it
was as yet very badly supplied with different appli
ances required in the field ; its impedimenta were
heavy and cumbrous ; its cavalry and artillery were
much too weak, as was to be expected in the case of
a force, transported to a great distance from the
British Isles.

CHAPTER IV
THE DOURO — TALAVERA
Napoleon's authority on the Continent weakened after Baylen and
Vimiero — He persists in his purpose to conquer Spain and Portu
gal — His interview with the Czar at Erfurt— England rejects
their overtures and continues the war — Moore at Lisbon — He
marches to the assistance of the Spanish armies — Napoleon in
vades Spain — Espinosa, Tudela — Moore's march to Sahagun —
Napoleon crosses the Guadarrama, but fails to destroy Moore's
army — The retreat to, and the battle of, Corunna— Death of
Moore — Faulty dispositions of the French armies after the de
parture of Napoleon — Soult at Oporto — Victor on the Guadiana
— Wellesley in command of a British and Portuguese army at
Lisbon — His masterly views on the Peninsular War — He ad
vances against Soult and crosses the Douro — His great ability in
this achievement — Able retreat of Soult — Wellesley, after some
delay, advances with Cuesta, up the valley of the Tagus—
Danger of this strategy— Battle of Talavera— Retreat of
Wellesley after a narrow escape— He receives the title of
Wellington.
NAPOLEON had marked down Spain and Por
tugal as an easy prey, but Baylen and Vimi
ero, followed by the flight of the forces of
the invaders behind the Ebro, — a pusillanimous mili
tary mistake, for which King Joseph was mainly to
blame, — had not only subverted his power through-
70

The Douro — Talavera 7 1
out the Peninsula, but had weakened his authority
on the subject Continent. A thrill of amazement
and hope ran through Europe at the intelligence
that rude Spanish levies, and a small British army,
thrown on the coasts of Portugal, had defeated the
legions which had been the terror of the world, and
had completely baffled the evil policy of the con
queror at Bayonne. Austria, humiliated and dismem
bered since the rout of Austerlitz, and ever willing to
wound, even if afraid to strike, began to increase her
military power ; the Archduke Charles was placed at
the head of her War Oflfice ; her regular army was
largely augmented, and made more national. Prussia,
trodden under foot since Jena and Friedland, indig
nantly chafed in her degrading chains, and was
deeply affected by what had occurred in Spain ;
Germany, hitherto divided into feeble and almost
hostile states, stirred, in the presence of her French
oppressors, with a movement which, in the fulness of
time, was to become a mighty patriotic rising,
spreading from the Rhine and the Vistula to the
Danube. In Russia the nobles and the mer
chants, — two powerful orders of men, — seriously
injured in their direct and vital interests, had always
disliked the policy of Tilsit ; even Alexander had
ceased to be overawed and won by the fascination of
Napoleon's personality and wiles. At the same time
the Emperor had engaged in a quarrel with the
Pope, and had marched an army into the Papal
States ; his expeditions in the Mediterranean had
failed ; the Continental System, if doing England
much harm, had not produced decisive results ; even

72 Wellington
in France there were symptoms of popular alarm
and discontent. The gigantic but unnatural fabric
of despotic force, which had been suddenly raised
by the genius of a single man, seconded by an extra
ordinary succession of events, was, in a word, shaken
by recent mischances ; signs were not wanting that
it would not be a permanent structure. In these
circumstances. Napoleon resolved to avenge the
disasters that had befallen his arms beyond the
Pyrenees, and to subjugate the whole Iberian Penin
sula ; but he sought in the first instance to secure
the loyal support of his newly made ally, the great
monarch beyond the Niemen, of whose sincerity he
had already misgivings.
An interview, accordingly, between the two poten
tates was arranged in Germany, at the town of
Erfurt, not far from the historic battlefield of Jena.
Princes and nobles from the Confederation of the
Rhine and several ambassadors of foreign Powers
graced the meeting of the Czar and Napoleon;
Goethe and Wieland, forgetting patriotic feelings,
and the independence which is the glory pf letters,
bowed in admiration to the mighty conqueror ; the
scene prefigured, in some measure, the greater scene
which Dresden beheld four years afterwards. The
ascendency of Napoleon again triumphed ; Alex
ander yielded to an overmastering spell; he recog
nised Joseph as King of Spain ; he gave his ally a
free hand in the Iberian Peninsula, and once more
promised to maintain the Continental System. He
obtained, however, advantages for himself ; the prize
of Constantinople was dangled before his eyes.

The Douro — Talavera 73
though Napoleon had resolved that it should never
fall into his hands ; he was permitted to do what he
pleased in Finland, and to subdue the lands on the
Danube which marched with his Empire. The inter
view, however, was most important for this, — the al
lied sovereigns for the second time made overtures
to England, offering peace, though it is tolerably
certain that, on Napoleon's part at least, this was
either an attempt to mask his ulterior designs, or to
win the opinion of the Continent again to his side.
The two Emperors parted with effusive professions
of friendship ; they were soon to become deadly
enemies ; but Napoleon had gained what he wanted,
a pledge for the moment that the Czar would not in
terfere with the conquest of Portugal and Spain.
The British Government, as Napoleon no doubt ex
pected, refused to treat unless the Juntas of Spain
should be recognised as the de facto ruling powers ;
this implied that Joseph was a mere usurper ;
nothing remained but to continue the war. At this
juncture the events of the last few months had, per
haps, unduly elated the British Ministry, and had in
creased the enthusiasm of the nation in behalf of
Spain ; the Convention of Cintra was quickly forgot
ten ; Junot had been defeated and forced to abandon
Portugal ; the invaders had been driven nearly to
the verge of the Pyrenees ; every ship brought news
of fresh Spanish triumphs, and of the irresistible
might of the great Spanish rising.
It was determined to invade Spain with a British
force, to be supported by the Spanish levies; the
army which had won Vimiero and for some time had

74 Wellington
remained under the command of Dalrymple, was
to be raised to the strength of 30,000 men at least,
and to be placed in the hands of Moore, who, we
have seen, had been balked in the recent campaign.
Moore, I have said, was a distinguished soldier ; he
had done much to improve the British infantry and
to make its tactics and formations more eflficient.
He probably had not the profound designs of Welles
ley, as to the true method to cope with Napoleon in
the Peninsula, but, be this as it may, his orders were
to co-operate in the field with the Spanish armies.
Moore had reached Lisbon in the first days of
October, 1808 ; he made his preparations for the in
tended movement. But Dalrymple, as was his wont,
was timid and dull-minded ; he had kept his army
around Lisbon, and had done nothing to further a
march eastward ; above all, he had not explored the
roads leading from Portugal into Spain. Moore,
nevertheless, gave proof of praiseworthy diligence,
though the organisation of his army was still defec
tive ; in fact, it was greatly wanting in means of
transport, and in supplies. But he was on his way
from Lisbon in the third week of October : he was
to be joined by Baird with a fine division of some
12,000 men, to be disembarked at Corunna, and to
come into hne with him ; the collective array was
about 24,000 strong. Moore's object was to advance
on Burgos, and to lend an effective hand to the Span
ish armies, still described by popular report as victori
ous. His movement, however, was very slow, partly
because his impedimenta were cumbrous and bad ;
partly because he fohowed the least available route

The Douro — Talavera 75
from Portugal ; and he detached the greater part of
his artihery, and his whole cavalry, by a circuitous
road, far outside the true hne of march, because he
had received information that these arms could not
advance with the main army, —unquestionably a
grave military mistake. He was at Salamanca by
the last week of November, at the head of about
15,000 men ; Baird, who had marched from Corunna,
was at no great distance, but Hope, with the horse
men and guns, was near the Escurial, that is, sepa
rated from headquarters by nearly a hundred miles
of a mountainous and very difficult country. The
British General could not stir for ten or twelve days,
until he had drawn his forces together, especially
twoof his necessary arms ; meantime ominous intel
ligence reached him from every side. The Spanish
armies were unable to make any real impression, even
on the forces of Joseph behind the Ebro ; they were
checked and defeated more than once ; and Moore,
like most soldiers, underrated the power of the
Spanish rising, as a means of resisting an organised
enemy. Erelong an overwhelming tempest of war
had burst through the Pyrenean barrier, and was
sweeping away all obstacles in its destructive course.
Napoleon had collected a great army, composed of
his best and veteran troops, and fully 120,000 strong ;
he had moved it rapidly through Germany and
France ; he had crossed the frontier of Spain in the
first days of November. He had hoped to surround
and annihilate the Spanish armies; he was foiled in
this purpose by the movements of Joseph ; but one
Spanish army was routed at Espinosa, another met

76 Wellington
the same fate at Tudela ; the conqueror, having
forced the Somo Sierra Pass, was erelong marching
in triumph on Madrid.
The position of Moore had become critical; he
could expect little or no assistance from the defeated
Spaniards ; Napoleon might turn against him in
irresistible force. For a short time he contemplated
a retreat on Portugal ; but he was reluctant to take
so untoward a step ; happily for his fame as a warrior,
he changed his purpose. He received information
that Madrid would make a stand, hke that of Sara
gossa ; he resolved to make a real effort to assist the
capital, and to fall on the hne of the French com
munications with Bayonne, a bold and a perilous,
but a well-conceived design. His army, still sepa
rated from Baird, but joined by Hope, broke up
from Salamanca on the nth of December; Moore's
object, for the moment, was to reach Valladolid, and
so to draw the enemy away from Madrid. But an
intercepted letter from Berthier induced the British
commander to advance northwards ; Soult was iso
lated on the Carrion with an insignificant force;
Madrid had fallen after a mere show of resistance ;
Napoleon was about to march to the south, and to
complete the subjugation of Portugal and Spain.
Moore resolved to attack and defeat Soult, gracing
his arms with at least a passing triumph : he concen
trated his whole army, perhaps 26,000 strong, and,
assisted by a division of Spanish levies, pushed on
ward to Sahagun not far from the French Marshal's
camp. But in the meantime Napoleon had changed
his plans ; hearing of the audacious movement of

SIR JOHN HOPE, EARL OF HOPETOUN.
(From the painting by Sir Henry Rseburn, R.A.)

The Douro — Talavera 'j'j
Moore, he determined on crushing an enemy he
deemed in his grasp : he rapidly assembled a great
army, and having crossed the Guadarrama after an
extraordinary march, was in full pursuit of Moore
by the last days of December. That General, how
ever, instantly decamped, and hastened to effect his
retreat through Leon ; Napoleon, after many efforts,
could not bring him to bay ; at Astorga the Emperor
gave up the attempt, perhaps because he had learned
that Austria was threatening to draw the sword ; he
committed the task of following Moore to Soult.
It is unnecessary to dwell on the tale of the subse
quent retreat ; the British soldiery gave proof of
their wonted valour in more than one sharp and
bloody fight ; but they also showed their tendency to
become demoralised under the stress of severe
hardship and want ; there were miserable scenes of
excess, and of a fatal lack of discipline. Moore, never
theless, made good his way to Corunna, and com
pletely beat off Soult in a well-contested battle : he
fell gloriously in the very arms of victory. But he
had accomplished a really great achievement ; his
march to Sahagun had drawn away Napoleon from
his plans of conquest, which most probably might
have been realised ; it had a marked effect on the
issues of the Peninsular War.
Important, however, as the operations of Moore
had been, the Emperor, it is hkely, might have at
tained his object at last, had he been able to remain
in Spain, and to have conducted the war in person.
He had more than 200,000 soldiers beyond the Pyre
nees, half of these being exceUent troops; the

78 Wellington
Spanish armies had been utterly beaten though the
national insurrection was still full of life ; the British
army, after Corunna, had returned to England. It
is difificult to suppose that the greatest of warriors,
employing forces for the time irresistible in the field,
possessing the unity of supreme command, and the
absolute master of submissive lieutenants, would not
have planted his eagles at Lisbon and Cadiz, and
have held the whole Peninsula in his grasp, had he
been on the spot to watch the march of events, and
to give his armies the impulse and the direction he
alone could give. And undoubtedly, after the fall of
Madrid, when Joseph was restored to his usurping
throne, large classes in Spain thought the contest
hopeless ; even lassitude of a kind was to be per
ceived in some parts of the kingdom. But at this
juncture, as was often to be seen again, the war, asa
whole, was not well conducted, regard being had to
existing facts, though its general operations were
controlled by Napoleon, who, however, was hun
dreds of miles away from its theatres. It is not easy
to understand why immense forces were employed
in overrunning the Eastern kingdoms, by no means
the decisive scene of events, and were not moved
westwards against Portugal, though all honour is due
to Saragossa and its heroic defence, and the patriotic-
levies in this region were not contemptible foes. But
the French armies were disseminated over too vast
an area, considering the still formidable power of an
ubiquitous rising, though Napoleon believed that
they were strong enough to effect his purpose, to
subjugate Portugal in the first instance, and to be-

The Douro — Talavera 79
come masters of Andalusia. Soult, after Corunna,
was ordered to invade Portugal from the north, while
Victor was to advance from Estremadura into
Alemtejo ; Lapisse, with a division of considerable
strength, was to maintain a communication between
the two commanders. But Soult was harassed on
his march by a partisan warfare, and by obstacles of
many kinds ; he was, besides, not well supported by
his colleague, Ney, — an early example of the divi
sions which in the Peninsula were so disastrous to
France ; he did not take Oporto until the close of
March, 1809, with an army greatly reduced in num
bers. Victor won a bloody battle at Medellin on the
Guadiana ; but he, too, suffered much in his move
ments ; and Lapisse, instead of obeying his orders,
joined Victor and lost all contact with Soult, The
two French generals were now much too weak to at
tempt to overrun and conquer Portugal.
The campaign of Moore, though a seeming failure,
ended in a brilliant victory for the British arms, and
rather stimulated English opinion to go on with the
war. An idea was indeed abroad that the power
of Napoleon, notwithstanding his recent success in
Spain, was already declining, nay, might soon fall :
great hopes were raised when Austria became hostile,
and the Continent was stirred by a movement against
its tyrant. The English Ministry determined to
make a great effort ; an expedition was to be fit
ted out to destroy Antwerp, and even to invade the
Low Countries ; a British army was to be sent out
again to support the Spanish and the Portuguese
risings. Wellesley, whose ability in Portugal was

8o Wellington
now fully recognised, and who in Castlereagh had a
faithful and lifelong friend, was fortunately placed at
the head of this new force ; he had already given
proof of profound sagacity in considering the nature
of the Peninsular contest, and in perceiving how it
could be made disastrous to the arms of France and
be turned to advantage for those of England. His
deep-laid plans were not as yet to be realised ; but
even now, in more than one masterly despatch, ' he
had indicated how Portugal was exactly the theatre
in which Napoleon was to be encountered in his
career of conquest. England's command of the sea
made that little country easy of access to any army
she might land on its shores, and afforded facilities
of retreat to that army. Portugal could only with
diflficulty be invaded by France ; at the same time it
formed a kind of sallyport from which even a com
paratively small force might fall on the long line of
the communications of the French with Spain, and
might check and mar their operations with very great
effect. Portugal, besides, had long been a friendly
State ; the people, hke the Spaniards, detested the
French; and a Portuguese army could, no doubt,
be formed, which, aided by levies of partisans, could
give powerful assistance to a British commander.
Portugal, in a word, was a formidable place of arms
for England ; and if the Spanish armies in the field
had been scattered like sheep, the Spanish insurrec
tion, breaking out from the Pyrenees to Cadiz, and
wasting the strength of the invaders, wherever they
'One of the earliest of these despatches, dated 7th March, 1809,
will be found in the Selections, pp. 248-249.

The Douro — Talavera 8i
were found, was a real, nay, a great element of
resisting force, especially in such a land as Spain,
with its ranges of sierras, its intricate defiles, its ill-
cultivated and poor tracts, its numerous and diflficult
river lines, — all obstacles to the operations of regular
armies, notably under Napoleon's peculiar system of
war.' Wellesley landed at Lisbon in the last days of
April, 1809, and was welcomed in that capital with
general acclaim ; his conduct at Vimiero had not
been forgotten. Time had not been lost to enable
him to take the field ; preparations for a campaign
had been diligently made. Sir John Cradock had a
force of some 10,000 men in Portugal, and had done
something to provide for transports and magazines ;
considerable reinforcements had arrived from Eng
land ; the regular Portuguese armyj^ nearly 20,000
strong, had been organised by Beresford and other
British oflficers, and there were large bodies of irregu
lar Portuguese levies. Wellesley was in command
of from 40,000 to 50,000 men, 26,000 of these being
British and German troops : he held a central posi
tion between Victor and Soult, now divided from
each other by a great distance ; the first question
for him was which of the marshals he should attack.
Victor certainly was the enemy nearest at hand ; he
had won two battles, besides that of Medellin ;
he lay around Merida on the Guadiana ; with La
pisse and Sabastiani he was more than 30,000 strong.

' For an excellent account of the topography of Spain from a mili
tary po.int of view, see Mr, Oman's History of the Peninsular War,
i., 72-89.

e

82 Wellington
But he had been singularly inactive since his late
victories ; he had refused to invade Portugal at the
instance of King Joseph; he had shown that he had
no wish to co-operate with Soult — another example
of the jealousies and the discords of the French
commanders. Wellesley resolved to make his prin
cipal effort against Soult; but he took precautions
against an offensive movement by Victor; detach
ments of about 14,000 men were marched towards
the frontier to hold that Marshal in check ; Welles
ley set off with an army 25,000 strong — nearly 10,-
000 were Portuguese troops — to begin his opera
tions against Soult. He had reached Coimbra in
the first days of May, even now not very far from
his enemy, who, since the fall of Oporto,-after fright
ful deeds of blood, had remained almost inactive
around the city, endeavouring, not in vain, to re
store peace and order, but apparently ignorant that
the British General was on the march. Soult un
questionably was a very able man, and showed re
markable energy in grave crises ; but his disposition
was somewhat indolent and remiss, faults of which
he gave many proofs in his career. His army was
now divided into two parts, one on the Vouga, one
on the Tamega, feeders of the Douro on either side
of the great river ; they were separated by a rather
wide distance ; and he was also harassed by a kind
of peasant warfare. He was beset, moreover, by
another danger, of which at this moment he knew
nothing, — a conspiracy had been formed by oflficers
in his camp, with the object of returning to France,
and, perhaps, of overthrowing Napoleon. This de-

The Douro — Talavera 83
sign, insensate as it may seem, was not without real
mischief; it was injurious, in the highest degree, to
military subordination and trustworthy discipline.'
The army of the Marshal, disseminated and weak
ened in this way, was probably not more than 20,-
000 strong; it was thus inferior in numbers to that
of Wellesley.
The British General was on the march for Oporto,
by Coimbra, on the 9th of May ; he had detached
Beresford, with some 6000 men, aided by irregular
bodies of Portuguese, to turn the enemy's left wing
on the Tamega, and, if possible, to intercept the line
of his retreat. Wellesley had been in communica
tion with one of the traitors, and had ascertained the
positions of the French army ; he advanced along
the line of the coast to Vouga, taking advantage of
a lake, which formed a ferry for part of his army.
The right wing of the French was soon turned ; an
indecisive engagement was fought at a place called
Grijon, but the French General in command made
good his retreat, and, having reached Oporto with
out much loss, destroyed the bridge of boats on the
Douro, which formed the only means of communi
cation across the river. Meanwhile Soult had been
informed of the treason around him, and of the
approach of Wellesley's army; he instantly made
preparations to break up from Oporto, and to make
good his way into Spain, through the province of
Trasos Montes, the line which he had taken when in-

' There seems to be little real authority for the statement made
by Thiebault and other writers, that Soult was aspiring to the crown
pf Portugal,

84 Wellington
vading -Portugal. His dispositions seemed to make
him perfectly secure, and he probably would have
been so, if he had not had to deal with an adversary
of extraordinary skill and resource in the field. The
Marshal took care to seize every boat and barge by
which the passage of the Douro could be effected ;
he collected these craft on the bank he held, and
placed bodies of troops to guard it. The Douro
was about three hundred yards wide ; how could
Wellesley cross it, in the face of a brave army ? the
obstacle might well have been deemed impossible
to surmount. At the same time Soult made arrange
ments to secure the line of his retreat, which ap
peared to be ample and indeed ought to have been
suflficient. His retrograde movement would be
across the Tamega, at the bridge of Amarante, which
afforded the only means of passage; he directed
his lieutenant, Loison, to occupy that point, and
to keep any enemy away from it ; it was almost the
only avenue of escape for the French army. A
most disastrous incident, however, here occurred,
for which the Marshal was in no sense responsible,
but which nearly brought ruin down on him in the
events which fohowed. Beresford, operating with
his detachment, crossed the Tamega; Loison fell
back, making hardly any resistance; the bridge at
Amarante was thus seized by Wellesley's lieutenant,
and the true line of retreat for Soult and his army
was closed ! At the same time Soult had not, per
haps, taken all the precautions he ought to have
taken against a bold and able enemy. The con
spiracy among his oflficers still existed, causing dan-

The Douro — Talavera 85
gerous slackness and neglect of duty : the Marshal
did not guard his bank of the Douro with a suf
ficient force; he was convinced that if the passage
were attempted at all, it would be attempted lower
down the river near its mouth ; he turned his atten
tion in that direction ; above all, thinking himself
perfectly safe, he lingered at Oporto at least a day
too long, and contented himself with sending part
of his impedimenta out of the city.
It was the I2th of May. Wellesley could not
know that Beresford was closing on the French line
of retreat ; but he had determined, if it were possible,
to cross the Douro. On the i ith, he had sent Colo
nel John Murray with a detachment of a few thou
sand men to try to effect a passage higher up the
river ; but how was he to cross it himself under the
very beard of Soult? His dispositions, favoured by
peculiarities of the ground, and seconded, in a most
remarkable way, by an accident, were as admirable
as have ever been made in an operation of the kind,
and were attended with brilliant and complete suc
cess. A high eminence, on which a convent was
built, rose on the bank, occupied by his outposts ;
a large edifice, called the Seminary, which in its en
closures could form a shelter for some hundreds of
men, spread along the French bank, opposite to the
convent; the British General chose this point as
that in which he would make his venture. He had
carefully reconnoitred the ground on which the con
vent stood ; he had perceived that the French bank
was not well guarded ; but the principal diflficulty
still remained, — he was as yet without the means

86 Wellington
to ferry his army across the Douro. Propitious
Fortune here came to his aid: a poor citizen of
Oporto had, before daybreak, rowed a skiff unob
served to the British bank ; he recrossed the stream
with a bold staff oflficer ; three or four barges were
brought to the selected spot; meanwhile some
twenty guns were placed on the height around the
convent, and troops were secretly posted behind the
hill, the forlorn hope that was to make the first
effort. The Seminary was soon seized, but only by
a handful of men: it is a signal proof how ill the
French outposts did their work, that three barges at
least had got over the Douro, and had occupied the
Seminary, with a not inconsiderable force, before
the enemy ha4 the least notion of what was taking
place ; the surprise, in fact, was discreditable and
complete. The French now fell on the troops, who
had gathered within the kind of fortress marked out
for them; but they, were ravaged by the fire of the
guns from the hill and the convent ; the population
of Oporto sent a number of barges to the help of
Wellesley ; the British army was before long across
the Douro. Meanwhile the columns of Murray were
seen advancing; they, too, had passed the river
higher up ; this was the signal for a precipitate re
treat of the enemy ; Soult's whole army hastened
out of Oporto, leaving guns and stores behind, and
losing many men ; it made for the roads leading to
Amarante, where the Marshal expected to find Loi
son. Had Murray acted with vigour he must have
destroyed a large part of the defeated host ; it ex
posed, in its flight, its flanks to him ; but he missed

LORD WELLESLEY.
(From the painting by Sir Thomas Lawrence.)

The Douro — Talavera 87
his opportunity, whatever the cause ; he allowed the
enemy to escape scot-free.
The campaign on the Douro, above all, the passage
of the great river under the very eyes of Soult,
were signal instances of what Wellesley could
achieve in war. He owed something, indeed, to
treason in his adversary's camp, and something to
the remissness shown by the French Marshal; an
accident enabled him to find the means of sending a
petty detachment across the stream ; but all this
does not in the least detract from his merit. He
gave proof of marked skill in sending Beresford to
threaten the French line of retreat, though he could
hardly have anticipated the success he gained ; he
took the right course in advancing from Coimbra
upon Oporto. But the passage of the Douro was
the great exploit ; it was a most conspicuous exhi
bition of resource in tactics. Wellesley properly de
tached John Murray to cross the river higher up:
had his lieutenant acted with boldness and energy,
the French army must have suffered enormous
losses. The selection, however, of the true point
where to make the passage was the finest specimen
on this occasion of Wellesley's powers ; remarkable
insight was shown in choosing the Seminary as a
kind of place of arms, where the British troops on
landing would be comparatively safe ; the hill and the
convent formed excellent screens behind which the
assailants could be formed, and good points of van
tage for artillery be obtained ; the surprise, in a
word, was most admirably contrived. The dispo
sitions of Soult, on the other hand, though the

88 Wellington
conspiracy in his army, of which he had no idea until
the last moment, did him much harm, were hardly
equal to the reputation of that distinguished soldier.
He divided his forces on two rivers ; they were
parted by the great stream of the Douro ; he did
not suflficiently guard the bank he held at Oporto ;
he may perhaps have left Loison too few troops to
cover what was all but his sole line of retreat.
Yet the conduct of the Marshal, after his first re
verse, was worthy of a general of no ordinary
powers. When he found Amarante and its bridge
seized, and his best avenue of escape closed, he
might have been involved in another Baylen ; pusil
lanimous voices urged him to treat, like Junot at the
Convention bf Cintra. But the Marshal scorned
these counsels of despair ; rising to meet a terrible
crisis with a bold decision, he destroyed his impedir.
menta, abandoned his guns, and led his army by
mere mountainous tracks across a range of sierras
from which a retreat might be yet possible though
the diflficulties were extreme. The toilsome march
of the French was impeded by torrents and obstacles
of many kinds; the heroism of individual soldiers
was conspicuously displayed, and^ at last 12,000 or
14,000 men, a disorganised wreck, for the moment
worthless, made good their way to Orense beyond
the Portuguese frontier. Wellesley did not at once
pursue Soult, he only just reached the retiring
enemy : for this he has incurred some censure. He
certainly was not at his best in following a defeated
enemy : but there were sound military reasons for
the halt he made at Oporto for a single day.

The Douro — Talavera 89
After the passage of the Douro, Wellesley fell
back on Abrantes, in order to watch the operations
of Victor, and of the other forces that seemed to
menace Portugal. A long pause in his movements
followed : it was not until nearly the end of June
that his army was on the march again. This delay
has been made a charge against him, — and he was
different from Turenne and Napoleon, when in a
central position between divided enemies,^but it
should be more justly ascribed to causes independ
ent of himself. His soldiers were exceedingly ill
supplied, owing to the neglect of the men in power
in Portugal : they lost a great number of comrades
by disease : even their pay was very considerably
in arrears, for the treasury at home was severely
pressed. Under these adverse conditions they began
to give proof of one of the characteristic defects of
a British army, the tendency to break up, and to
lose heart, when in the presence of continual hard
ship ; and they plundered the whole country around
with audacious licence. Despite its commander's
angry complaints, and the severe examples that he
was forced to make, it was some time before the dis
cipline of his forces was restored ; meanwhile ar
rangements had been made for another effort to
co-operate with the Spanish armies, and to assist the
national insurrection of Spain. A plan of campaign
was formed, the least well-conceived of Wellesley's
projects in war, and based on complete ignorance
of facts of supreme importance. By this time Napo
leon, repairing the false steps taken by Berthier, had
utterly defeated the Archduke Charles in operations

90 Wellington
as fine as any in his career ; he had entered Vienna
in triumph for the second time ; but he had met a
serious rebuff at Aspern ; he appeared to be in grave
peril upon the Danube ; the opinion that his fall was
not distant had strengthened in England and else
where. His armies, too, in Spain, had been reduced ;
the passage of the Douro was an augury of success ;
the French had not ventured to invade Portugal;
it was in these circumstances that the design to which
we have referred was formed. Wellesley's army had
been reinforced and was perhaps 22,000 strong ; a
Spanish army of about 40,000 men was in Estre
madura under Cuesta ; another Spanish army com
manded by Venegas was behind the Sierra Morena,
perhaps 25,000 strong ; it was agreed that Wellesley
and Cuesta should unite their forces, and should
march up the valley of the Tagus on Madrid, while
Venegas, advancing through La Mancha, should
second the movement. The combined forces, should
they join hands, would thus be a host of nearly
90,000 men ; but such a concentration was improb
able in the extreme ; and the project did not make
suflficient allowance for the miserable quality of the
Spanish armies : for the risk of Wellesley's and
Cuesta's march: for the strength of the French
armies around Madrid : above all, for the hostile forces
that might be arrayed behind the screen of the lofty
sierras, overlooking the valley of the Tagus from the
north, and might be directed with terrible effect on
the flank and the rear of the enemy in his advance.
Wellesley and Cuesta, advancing at wide dis
tances, moved up the valley of the Tagus, in the first

The Douro — Talavera 91
days of July, and were at Placencia and Almaraz by
the loth of the month. The British General trusted
to Beresford, in Trasos Montes, and to some Portu
guese levies, to protect his march, and to cover his
flank and rear, should any enemy descend through
the Sierra passes, but these supports were far away
and wholly inadequate ; he had no conception of the
forces that might be combined against him. Mean
while Venegas had begun to move through La
Mancha; but though his operations disconcerted
King Joseph, and caused a dangerous division of
the French armies, the Spanish commander never
approached Madrid, or came into line with the allies
he was intended to join ; it has been said this was
the fault of one of the Spanish juntas. For a time,
however, the prospects of Wellesley and Cuesta
seemed good : they advanced without any apparent
sign of peril at hand ; on the 23rd of July an oppor
tunity arose to attack and to defeat Victor, who was
isolated near Talavera, Joseph and Sebastiani hav
ing marched from the capital in order to observe
the movement of Venegas : Wellesley urged his col
league to fall on the enemy, but Cuesta, an aged,
obstinate, and ill-tempered man, lost precious time,
and practically refused to move ; Victor fell back
towards Toledo, and was for the moment safe.
Cuesta, when apprised of Victor's retreat, recklessly
pushed forward to attack the Marshal ; Wellesley
sent him a reinforcement of a small body of troops,
but would not follow his imprudent ally ; in fact,
his army had been wretchedly supplied <5n its
march, in consequence of Spanish carelessness and

92 Wellington
neglect, and was already suffering from many priva
tions. A transformation was soon seen on the
theatre of events ; Joseph, assisted by Jourdan, the
veteran chief of his staff, and Sebastiani ceasing to
watch Venegas,— that General was many leagues
distant,— united their forces with those of Victor ;
the combined armies advanced to Talavera in the
last days of July : Cuesta with diflficulty made his
escape. More than 50,000 excellent French soldiers
were thus being concentrated against an enemy
whose army was mainly composed of bad troops,
and of men weakened by severe hardships ; mean
while another peril was already not far off, which
might have proved simply fatal to the allies. Na
poleon, from the banks of the Danube, had perceived
the risk Wellesley and Cuesta ran, in marching up
the valley of the Tagus towards Madrid, when
largely superior forces could be thrown on their flank
and rear ; with characteristic insight and resource
this greatest of strategists saw the favourable chance ;
he directed Soult, whom he placed in supreme com
mand, to assemble a great force composed of his
own corps, which had been quickly reorganised and
restored, of the corps of Ney, and of the corps of
Mortier ; and with these combined armies, to pass
through the Sierras from the north, to join hands
with all the armies under the command of Joseph,
and then to fall in irresistible strength on the
enemy, who, should he continue his march, could
hardly be saved from complete destruction.'
' Napier has misdescribed Napoleon's project, as his correspond
ence was not then published. It will be found in Corr., xix., p. 263, in

The Douro — Talavera 93
Partly, however, owing to the distances between
the French marshals, but largely to dissensions be
tween them, — the curse of the French in the Penin
sular War,— and to orders wrongly given by Joseph
to Mortier, the march of Soult was considerably
delayed ; the grand conception of Napoleon was not
realised. Nevertheless, Soult, with the three corps
of which he had been made the chief, was around
Salamanca in the latter days of July ; that is, he was
now only four or five marches distant from the gap
in the Sierras which would lead him into the Tagus,
valley, and would place him on the flank and rear
of the enemy, with a veteran army fully 50,000
strong. The Marshal wrote to King Joseph by a
confidential oflficer, the General Foy of another day,
entreating the King not to attempt " to fight a gen
eral action until all his forces were near Placencia,"
that is, had emerged from the passes in the Sierras,
and were on the line of the allied retreat ; in that
event, he insisted, " the most important results might
be obtained : the enemy would be lost if he did not
retrace his steps." This plan, if less perfect than
that of the Emperor, for it involved an operation

a letter written from Schoenbrunn, July i8, 1809: " Recommandez
au Roi d' Espagne que, si les Anglais debouchaient en Espagne, il
ne leur livre point de bataille qu'il ne soit reuni. II a le 4= Corps, le
garnison de Madrid, le i" Corps ; ce qui fait plus de 50,000 hommes,
Les 2°, 6=, et 5= Corps forment une soixantaine de mille hommes : il
peut done donner bataille aux Anglais avec 110,000 hommes." The
project is more fully developed in Corr., xix., p. 373. The Emperor
disapproved of all the French operations that followed, and indicated
the very means by which Wellesley actually escaped the net that
seemed closing around him. See Corr., xix., pp. 315, 346, 379.

94 Wellington
conducted on double lines,— strategy, as a rule, not
to be commended,— was, nevertheless, promising in
the highest degree, if only Joseph would not make
a premature attack, and Wellesley and Cuesta re
mained where they were ; and at this moment, it
must be borne in mind, neither Wellesley nor Cuesta
had an inkling of the approach of Soult. Two
armies, therefore, each of 50,000 good troops, might
not improbably be assembled to fall on a single
army, not nearly half equal in real strength ; the
overthrow of the allies would, in that event, be
almost assured, especially as one of the armies would
be on their flank and rear; their escape, indeed,
would be diflficult in the extreme. But Joseph, con
fident in the power of the forces of which he was
nominally the head, and like Marmont on another
occasion, eager to secure a victory for himself alone,
resolved to attack Wellesley and Cuesta, before he
could be joined by Soult, — presumptuous, reckless,
and wrong conduct, which justly incensed the Em
peror when made aware of the facts.
Wellesley and Cuesta were at Talavera by this
time, a small town on the northern bank of the
Tagus. The Spaniard gave the command to the
Englishman, but with a bad grace ; Wellesley rightly
determined to await the attack of the enemy ; re
treat, in truth, would' have been fatal to his com
posite and weakened army. His arrangements gave
proof of the skill in tactics in which he had hardly
an equal among the generals of his age. He arrayed
the Spanish army, about 34,000 strong, but un-trust-
worthy troops in every sense of the word, from

MARSHAL NEY.
(After the painting by Gerard.)

The Douro — Talavera 95
Talavera on its extreme right, to an eminence
crowned with a redoubt on its extreme left ; its front
was protected by a convent, a breastwork, ditches,
and stockades ; its rear was supported by its own
and some British cavalry. Its position was thus
very diflficult to assail; Wellesley's army extended
from Cuesta's left to a hill which was the key of the
whole battlefield ; the united forces held a front of
about two miles. The Spanish army numbered, we
have seen, some 34,000 men, the British 19,000 or
20,000, the allies had perhaps 100 guns ; in real
strength they were far inferior to their foes. A
prelude to the battle that followed took place ; it
was not of the best omen to the allied armies.
The French crossed the Alberche near Talavera on
the 27th of July ; they were at least 50,000 with 80
guns : they were good soldiers, nearly all of one
brave nation, the British soldiers alone were worthy
of their steel. A sharp skirmish, that began with a
surprise, was fought at a spot called the Casa de
Salinas; Wellesley narrowly escaped being made a
prisoner ; signs of confusion appeared in one or two
British regiments; a great mass of Spaniards left
the field in precipitate flight. This brilliant effort
had been conducted by Victor. The Marshal, elated
with his first success, made a bold attempt to storm
the height on Wellesley's left ; he very nearly
attained his object, but his men were at last beaten
off after a fierce struggle. It was now nightfall;
both armies took their ground, and made prepara
tions for the fight of the morrow.
The stern battle of Talavera was fought on the

96 Wellington
28th of July, 1809. Victor insisted on a trial of
strength against Jourdan's counsels. The French
chiefs were already at odds with each other; the
ground was scarcely reconnoitred, an unpardonable
fault. Victor, however, had perceived the true point
of attack; almost disregarding the Spanish army,
he directed the divisions of Ruflfin and Villatte,
covered by a heavy fire of guns, against the decisive
spot, the hill ; a bloody and well-contested fight was
the result ; the French more than once almost reached
the summit; the losses were considerable on both
sides, but Victor's men were again driven off in
defeat. A long pause in the operations followed :
Jourdan urged Joseph to run no further risk, and to
wait until he should be joined by Soult ; Victor, im
petuous and thoughtless, exclaimed that " one might
give up war if the hill could not be stormed." The
attack was now conducted by the mass of the
French army, and was somewhat better directed
than it had been before. The Spaniards were again
almost unassailed ; but the divisions of Sebastiani,
Lapisse, and Ruflfin were marshalled to fall on
Wellesley's centre and left ; Villatte was ordered to
reach the hill by a turning movement, through a valley
that spread beyond the British left ; a small body of
cavalry was to second the movement. The superior
ity in numbers of the French thus cohected to attack
the British was enormous, nearly two to one, but
Wellesley had his arrangements made; he had ex
tended his left beyond the hill to cover the vahey,
when Villatte's movement was being developed ; he
steadily awaited a most formidable attack. The

The Douro — Talavera 97
battle raged fiercely for several hours : Villatte's
men were stopped in their advance by the British
cavalry, and ultimately were compelled to fall back ;
but a British regiment of dragoons was well-nigh cut
to pieces, having — a common fault — rushed forward
and got out of hand. Meantime a furious on
slaught had been made on the hill, and the whole
of Wellesley's line was searched by the enemy's
guns, while the hostile columns boldly advanced
and endeavoured to break it. The attack was all
but crowned with success ; the British centre was
forced at one point, the troops having got out of
order on uneven ground, always a danger for a line
in its movements ; but the battle was restored by a
veteran regiment, the 48th ; the French gradually
relaxed their efforts, and ultimately drew off from
the blood-stained field. The losses on both sides
were very large, from 6000 to 7000 men ; but 17
French guns were abandoned and taken ; Wellesley
remained victorious on the position he had held.
Owing probably to the disputes between Jourdan
and Victor, the reserve of the French army, 12,000
strong, was not engaged, and did not fire a shot, an
exhibition of weakness succeeding rash confidence.
After Talavera King Joseph fell back towards
Madrid, leaving Victor on the Alberche to join
hands with Soult, but isolated for the moment, with
Wellesley in his front. The British General, how
ever, did not venture to fall on ; he was always, per
haps, overcautious on occasions of this kind ; but his
army had cruelly suffered, and was greatly weak
ened ; his Spanish allies were but of little worth.

98 Wellington
Meanwhile a storm was gathering on his flank and
rear, the approach of which he had, very unaccount
ably, hardly considered possible. By the 4th of
August Soult had traversed the passes through the
Sierras ; his whole army could be assembled in a few
days ; he made ready to attack his enemy, though
Talavera had bafifled his excellent advice. Wellesley
had not even yet been informed of the Marshal's ad
vance, he had marched to Oropesa, near the enemy's
mouth, so to speak ; but gradually he ascertained a
part, at least, of the truth ; learning that Soult was at
no great distance, he brushed Cuesta's idle entreaties
aside, fell back on the Tagus, and crossed at the
bridge of Arzopisbo, the very point Napoleon had
foreseen he might select in the case of the operations
conducted by Soult. The Marshal, however, did
not abandon his quarry ; he directed Mortier to seize
the bridge at Almaraz, lower down the river, and to
intercept the enemy's retreat ; he endeavoured in per
son to press the pursuit ; he urged Joseph and his
lieutenants to advance and join him. But Joseph
set off again to observe Venegas, and had recalled
Victor from the Alberche ; Wellesley safely effected
his retreat on Merida and reached, unmolested, the
Portuguese frontier, at Badajoz.' Yet the chances
were that he would have been meshed in the toils
Soult had carefully prepared, had Joseph not gone
off in a false direction, and had he not been terrified
by the movement of some of Wellesley's levies ; the
" fate of the Peninsula hung for a few days on a
' Wellesley's account of his campaign of 1809 will be found In
Selection, pp. 325-337.

The Douro — Talavera 99
thread which could not have borne the weight for
even twenty-four hours ." ' Soult, however, did not
forego his purpose, though his first combination had
been a failure; he proposed to assemble his army
at Coria, near the borders of Portugal, and, sup
ported by Joseph in force, to invade that kingdom,
perhaps even to descend on Lisbon. But Ney re
fused to obey his orders; the King was too timid to
give his consent ; Napoleon always contended that
even at the eleventh hour a grand opportunity had
been thrown away.
Wellesley was given a peerage for Talavera, in
spite of querulous and shallow Opposition protests ;
thenceforward he was to be known by the honoured
name of Wellington. His skill and resource appear
in this campaign on the Tagus ; he rightly accepted
the challenge of Victor ; he arranged his enfeebled
army ably on the ground ; he plucked not safety,
but victory, out of no doubtful danger. His retreat
by the bridge of Arzopisbo was also an excellent
movement, giving proof of quick resolution and
firmness of purpose ; he extricated himself admirably
from foes who seemed closing around him. But his
strategy in the campaign was faulty r'it was not well
designed, it was founded on false assumptions. The
advance on double and distant lines was a hazardous
scheme ; the quality of the Spanish armies was not
suflficiently gauged : above all, the strength of the
French behind the Sierras was not even guessed at ;
it was deemed impossible that they could descend
on the allied flank and rear. Wellesley, in a word,

' Napier, i., p. 384.

loo Wellington
was in the air as he moved along the Tagus, and ex
posed to attacks that might weh have been fatal ;
had Napoleon directed the French armies he could
hardly have avoided an immense disaster ; and but
for the presumptuous recklessness of Victor and the
weakness of Joseph, the chances were that he would
have been beaten, perhaps surrounded, by Soult.
The best proof that he knew he had made grave mis
takes was that he never ventured on such an enter
prise again ; the conditions had changed when he
invaded Spain on two other occasions. As for the
operations of his adversaries, if we except those of
Soult, who proved his capacity as a real chief, they
were badly conducted from first to last. Victor
ought not to have fought at Talavera at all, until
Soult had come into line with Joseph and himself ;
this was a gross, nay, an inexcusable fault ; Joseph
more than once allowed his enemy to escape through
weakness, irresolution, and absolutely false move
ments.' The French commanders of a fine army
also were found wanting at Talavera ; they did not
really examine the ground ; they wasted their
strength in premature attacks; above all, they left
the field without engaging their reserve, irresolution
that [incensed their master.' Owing to these many
' Napoleon was justly indignant at the results of the campaign,
Corr., xix., 362: "Quelle belle occasion on a manque ; 30,000 Anglais
4 150 lieues des cotes devant 100,000 hommes des meillieurs troupes
du monde ! Mon dieu ! Qu' est-ce qu'une armee sans chef ! "
'^ The comments of the Emperor on Talavera were rightly severe.
I haveonly space for a few words. Corr., xix., 379: " Cette position
de I'ennemi exigeaitdonc des reconnaissances prealables, et qu'on a
conduit mes tTPUpes sans discernement, comme i la boucherie ; qu '

The Douro — Talavera loi
faults and shortcomings, Wellesley eluded his foes,
and even marred the operations of Soult ; the cam
paign ultimately was of advantage to him. It taught
him not to trust Spanish levies ; it impressed Napo
leon with the false belief that he " was a rash, pre
sumptuous, and ignorant man, " a fixed idea that he
held to even on the field of Waterloo. The British
General now resolved to establish himself in Portugal,
and, in pursuance of his original design, to defend the
Peninsula from that strong point of vantage. He
was soon to enter on a passage of arms, the real
crown of his military career; he was to make his
position in Portugal secure, and, as it were, from
this impregnable lair to defy his enemies ; he was to
become a thorn in the side of the giant, which was
to fester and produce the " Spanish ulcer," not the
least of the manifold causes of the giant's collapse.
enfin, etant resolu a la bataille, on I'a donnee mollement, puisque mes
armes ont essaye un affront, et que 12,000 homines de reserve sont
cependant restes sans tirer. "

CHAPTER V
BUSACO, TORRES VEDRAS, FUENTES D'ONORO
The supremacy of Napoleon on the Continent restored after Wag
ram — His efforts to extend the Continental System — Spain and
Portugal threatened with subjugation — This might have hap
pened had Napoleon conducted the war in person — False opera
tions of the French armies — The invasion of Andalusia —
Farsighted views of Wellington — His presence on the theatre of
the Peninsular War of supreme importance — His preparations for
the defence of Portugal — Increase and reorganisation of the Por
tuguese army — The lines of Torres Vedras — Grandeur of this con
ception and of the position of Wellington — Napoleon prepares
to invade Portugal in complete ignorance of Wellington's
arrangements — Fall of Ciudad Rodrigo and Almeida — Advance
of Massena — Battle of Busaco and defeat of the French —
Further advance of Massena — He is permanently arrested by
the lines — His position at Santarem^ — Soult at Badajoz — Retreat
of Massena — Pursuit of Wellington — The French army forced
back into Spain — Battle of Fuentes d'Onoro — The garrison of
Almeida escapes — Disgrace of Massena.
BY the close of 1809 and during the months that
followed, Napoleon • might have exclaimed
with Richard, that the " lowering clouds had
been buried in the ocean's bosom." After the re
verse at Aspern, he had risen superior to fortune,
had boldly maintained his hold on the Danube, and

Busaco, Torres Vedras, Fuentes d'Onoro 103
gathering his forces together with marvels of re
source and skiU, had defeated the Archduke Charles
in the hard-fought battle of Wagram. Austria had
bowed once more to the will of her victorious
enemy, had ceded territory, and had accepted an
humiliating peace ; ere long she had thrown her
Imperial daughter into the arms of her conqueror,
as a pledge of submission to his all-powerful man
dates. The Continent hid again its diminished
head : the Czar, who had been lukewarm in the
campaign on the Danube, returned, in profession at
least, to the policy of Tilsit and Erfurt ; the patri
otic movement in Germany ceased ; the supremacy
of France seemed assured from the Rhine to the
Vistula. In Italy Murat had been placed on the
throne of Naples, and had been ordered to make a
descent on Sicily. The Pope had been carried off
from the Vatican, and had been thrown into gilded
bondage ; a French army occupied Rome ; the
spiritual power of many centuries seemed effaced
by the material tyranny of the sword. England
remained, no doubt, the mistress of the seas, and
still, though unaided, maintained the contest ; but
she had lost a fine army in the swamps of Walcheren ;
the Douro and Talavera seemed fruitless triumphs.
Her finances were subjected to a tremendous trial ;
and though her commerce and manufactures still
bore the strain, and her real prosperity had not been
decidedly checked, she was suffering much from the
effects of the Continental System, and from the
attempts to shut her out from trading with the civ-
ihsed world. The quarrel, too, between Castlereagh

I04 1 Vellington
and Canning had weakened her Government, and
distracted her councils ; there was a prospect that
the Opposition might acquire power : if so, the new
Ministry would hardly continue the war. Mean
while, Napoleon, again the lord of the best part
of Europe, was concentrating his strength against
his one obstinate enemy : notwithstanding repeated
defeats and failures, he was building fleets and fit
ting out expeditions at sea : he still looked forward
to his great " battle of Actium." But his indom
itable will and commanding energies were chiefly
directed, at this conjuncture, to the extension and
the perfection ofthe Continental System, from which,
blind to what experience was already proving, and
ignorant of what the future was to bring forth, he
drew a certain presage of the approaching ruin of
England. Reckless that the prohibition of trade
with his foe impoverished and exasperated every
State on the Continent, and that his policy urged
him on to universal conquest, he annexed Holland to
his overgrown Empire ; he made the Hanse towns
departments of France, and carried her frontier sea
wards far beyond the Elbe, in the fixed conviction
that by these acts of unscrupulous force he would, in
his own phrase, " subdue the sea by the land," and
compel England to become one of his many vassals.
The domination of Napoleon over the Continent
seemed also about to be made complete, in the
spring and the summer of 1810, by the subjugation
of the whole Iberian Peninsula. The results of
the Campaign of 1809, especially the operations
upon the Tagus, had filled the Emperor with indig-

Busaco, Torres Vedras, Fuentes d'Onoro 105
nant wrath ; his arms in Spain and in Portugal were
to be defied no longer. As had happened after
Baylen, so after Wagram he moved enormous forces
across the Pyrenees ; roo,ooo soldiers at least were
added to the legions that maintained the war; his
armies were fully 370,000 strong, and were largely
composed of his best troops. For a time it appeared
as if nothing could withstand the overwhelming tor
rent of French invasion that spread from beyond the
Ebro to the Pillars of Hercules. In the East Suchet
kept down Aragon, quenched the flame of insur
rection in Navarre, was preparing to attack Valen-
cian fortresses. Catalonia had yielded to the arms
of St. Cyr and Augereau ; Gerona had fallen after
a memorable siege, worthy of the heroic defence
of Saragossa. An army upheld the throne of the
usurper at Madrid ; and occupied the valley of the
upper Tagus ; a great force had been assembled to
avenge Baylen, to overrun Andalusia, and to com
plete its conquest. This host, directed by Soult,
with Joseph at its head, swept easily through the
Sierra Morena passes, spread over the fine adjoining
regions until it approached the sea, took Cordova,
Seville, and other important cities, and, carrying
desolation and terror in its train, was stopped only
before the lagoons of Cadiz, which seemed the last
refuge of the independence of Spain. Meanwhile
Napoleon had fixed his gaze on Portugal, and had
resolved not only to annex that country, but to
make it a theatre for a reverse to England and to
the British army, which had appeared on its coasts.
Another great force was being assembled on the

io6 Wellington
frontiers of Leon ; it was amply sustained by power
ful reserves ; its mission was to crush every enemy
in its path and to advance in triumph to the Portu
guese capital. Nor could even the most experienced
soldier, nay, the conqueror himself — conducting the
war from a distance, and far removed from the
scene of events — understand how a real resistance
could be made to this formidable display of the
military force which had laid the Continent at the
feet of its master. The Spanish rising, indeed, was
perhaps fiercer than ever; the Spanish levies had
been formed into warlike bands known by the signif
icant name of Guerrillas, and had found skilful and
patriotic leaders ; several of the Spanish towns had
long kept the invaders at bay. But the Spanish
armies were being routed over and over again ; a
pitched battle had been fought at Ocana, and had
only lead to a frightful disaster, and though their
shattered fragments invariably drew towards each
other, and were animated by a really national spirit,
it seemed impossible that they could keep the field.
And what could a handful of British soldiers, even
though backed by Portuguese levies, effect against
the gigantic might of Napoleon employed to bring
the Peninsula within his grasp ? It app-eared to be
no idle boast when the Emperor announced to his
Senate that " the English Leopard would be driven
into the sea," and that " the Tricolor would soon
wave over Lisbon and Cadiz."
Had Napoleon at this turning-point in his career
seized the occasion when he bestrode the Continent,
and had he directed the war in Portugal and Spain

Busaco, Torres Vedras, Fuentes d'Onoro 107
himself; had he followed the principles of his own
strategy, and made the best use of his military
power ; had he established a real Government at
Madrid, and made his quarrelling lieutenants obey
his commands, it is probable that in spite of all the
obstacles he would have met, he would have con
quered the Iberian Peninsula, at least for a time.
But the Continental System was at present his prin
cipal care, and this detained him at Paris, the centre
of his affairs ; he could hardly leave his young con
sort, Marie Louise ; he had begun to dislike a
national struggle in a most difficult country, which
an Austerlitz or a Jena could not bring to a close' ;
he kept away from what was now the main scene of
events ; and yet, like Louis XIV. in another age, he
controlled from his capital a war far beyond the
Pyrenees, conduct certain to lead to defeats, nay,
disasters. This was one of the principal mistakes of
his life ; it was characteristic, not of a master of war,
but of a mere despot ; he acknowledged it, in exile,
many years afterwards. How the colossal edifice of
his tyranny in three-fourths of the Continent toppled
down and fell in a tremendous ruin, belongs to the
province of European History ; how it came to
the same end in Portugal and Spain is largely con
nected with the same subject ; and it was due to
many and different causes. But of these not the
least was the presence on the theatre of war of the
great soldier who maintained the contest for England,
' Wellington was an admirable military critic. He has remarked
over and over again, that impatience was a defect of Napoleon
ill war.

io8 , Wellington
and his commanding influence on the course of
events ; it is unquestionable that the wisdom and
the sword of Welhngton threw a decisive weight in
to the scales of Fortune. By this time the British
commander had, with a capacity and insight pecu
liar to himself, mastered the conditions of the
struggle in the Peninsula hopeless as it appeared
to the majority even of the ablest men ; he believed
that, in certain circumstances, it could be carried on
with success, even against the overwhelming power
of Napoleon. He had never abandoned the idea he
had from the first, that Portugal was the true point
from which the Peninsula could be defended by
England ; his deep-laid projects for such a defence
had been formed ; they had been confirmed by his
recent experiences in Spain, especially by what had
happened after Talavera. At this conjuncture, he
had grasped the real state of affairs, in Spain and
Portugal, with unerring judgment ; being on the
spot he understood it much better than the Emperor
could do, hundreds of miles away in Paris. He had
rightly deemed that Napoleon's principal effort in
the Peninsula would be made against Portugal ' ;
but having regard to the position of the French
armies, he believed that that effort could be made
a failure. He had properly condemned the invasion
of Andalusia and the consequent dissemination of
the enemy's forces as a distinct and momentous
military mistake " ; this, he was convinced, would
tell powerfully in the operations at hand. He put
little or no trust in the Spanish armies, as was
' Selection, pp. 313-317. ' Ibid., p. 434.

Busaco, Torres Vedras, Fuentes d'Onoro 109
natural after the events of 1809; he possibly esti
mated them below their worth ; but he clearly per
ceived that the Spanish rising would prove an
immense obstacle to the invaders ; would impede
check, nay, perhaps paralyse their movements on
the general theatre of the war. In these circum
stances Wellington contended that if the resources
of Portugal were properly employed, and if England
remained true to herself, that nook in the Peninsula
could even now be made a stronghold from which
the forces of Napoleon could be made to recoil.'
Wellington, after his retreat from Talavera, had
kept his army around Badajoz for some time. His
troops suffered from disease in unhealthy canton
ments, and for this he has been somewhat rudely
blamed ; but his position on the Guadiana can be
fully justified. The juntas, which had been the
heads of the great rising of Spain, had been repre
sented by a Central Junta, which had been assem
bled at Aranjuez and Seville; the Central Junta had
taken refuge at Cadiz, and had been replaced by a
more regular government ; a project had been formed
to convene the Cortes, the time-honoured Parliament
of the Spanish monarchy. At the same time Cadiz
was making a stubborn defence ; the place was ex
ceedingly diflficult to attack; it had successfully
' Wellington wrote this in November 1809 : " I conceive that
until Spain shall have been conquered and shall have submitted
to the conqueror, the enemy will find it difficult, if not impossible, to
obtain possession of Portugal; if His Majesty should continue to
employ an army in the defence of this country, and if the improve
ments in the Portuguese military service should be carried to the
extent of which they are capable," — Selection, pp. 313-314.

I IO Wellington
defied the efforts of Victor ; it had the support of a
British fleet ; a considerable force, composed partly of
Spanish, partly of British troops, had been collected
to oppose the besieging enemy. Wellington wished,
when near Badajoz, to be within reach of the new
Spanish Government, and to give it countenance as
well as he could ; in this position, besides, he threat
ened the French invaders in the vahey of the Tagus
and in Andalusia,— these already greatly scattered
and weakened, — and he protected the south-eastern
frontier of Portugal. But during this period his
powerful mind was bent on carrying out the profound
designs he had made for the defence of that king
dom, and for resisting the attack hehad clearly fore
seen ; his steadfast energies were directed to effect
his purpose. He stipulated that he should have the
command of a British army to be kept at a strength
of thirty thousand men, and to be properly rein
forced from the sea ; this was, so to speak, to be his
right arm in the field. But he had been placed at
the head of all the Portuguese forces, under the
honoured title of Marshal General ; the men in
oflfice in Lisbon, now called the Regency, who
though often divided, factious, and jealous of his
power, nevertheless bowed to his superior will, were
persuaded or compelled to put the whole military
resources of the State in his hands ; he had soon
turned these to the very best advantage. The Por
tuguese army, which had already done good work,
was largely increased and better organised, great
additions were made to the Portuguese levies, and
the whole male population was summoned to arms,

Busaco, Torres Vedras, Fuentes d'Onoro iii
under the ancient feudal laws of the Portuguese
monarchy. ' By these means Wellington's British
force would have the support of a regular foreign
army, and of a kind of militia as it may fitly be
called ; both were probably not less than one hundred
thousand strong; and there were, besides, large masses
that could do much service. This combination of
mihtary arrays was to form, as it were, the human
rampart which was to defend Portugal, and to offer
the resistance which man could make to the enemy.
The forces of nature, however, as well as those of
man, were to be employed in the accomplishment of
the British General's design. Napoleon's masterly
offensive strategy largely depended on the facilities
given by good roads, and on the products of agri
culture on the lines of march ; these enabled his
armies to move rapidly, and to find the means of
subsistence in the lands they traversed. His combi
nations had in a great measure failed when these
conditions of success were absent ; this had been
conspicuously seen in his winter campaign in Poland,
and already in some of the French operations in
Spain. The circumstance did not escape the pene
trating eye of Wellington ; he was alive to its signi
ficance for the defence of Portugal. He obtained
from the Government at Lisbon a reluctant consent
that the population should break up the main roads,
should destroy the crops and harvests ; should lay
the country waste along the whole front of the com
ing invasion ; this devastation, even if imperfectly
carried out, would greatly embarrass and retard the
enemy. But this was not the only natural obstacle

112 Wellington
which was to be thrown across the advance of the
hostile army ; there was an obstacle which perhaps
would be made impassable, if aided by the resources
of the military art. Armed lines had become all
but obsolete in war ; but they had repeatedly proved
of supreme importance ; the lines of Vihars, what
ever has been said, saved France in 1710-1711 ; the
features of the region beyond Lisbon could make
these defences play a most remarkable part. Two
ranges of heights rose between the Tagus and the
sea, twenty-nine and twenty-four miles in length,
and considerably north of the Portuguese capital;
they formed a barrier to the approach of the enemy ;
they enclosed a vast intervening space which could
be held by a defending force, in fact, to be compared
to a huge entrenched camp. These eminences were
occupied by the British chief along their whole ex
tent, and fortified with admirable skill and care ; low
uplands were scarped down and made precipitous ;
valleys were inundated and turned into inaccessible
swamps ; points of vantage were chosen for the com
manding fire of artillery ; hills, villages, streams, — in
a word, every part of the ground, — were made to
contribute to the great projected work. In this way
two formidable defensive lines, each supporting the
other, and of prodigious strength, were formed along
the ranges in front of Lisbon ; they were protected
by about a hundred and fifty redoubts, and armed
by nearly seven hundred cannon ; they were to be
held by a powerful army, and in constructing them
care had been taken that the army should possess
the means of a counter-attack, and should not be

Busaco, Torres Vedras, Fuentes d' Onoro 113
confined to a mere passive resistance. But Welling
ton's preparations did not stop here ; foreseeing that
conceivably the lines could be forced, he formed a
third line, behind the first two, on the verge of the
sea near Lisbon, of narrow breadth, but well-nigh im
pregnable ; this would cover his army, if compelled
to embark, and would make its retreat to its ship
ping secure. Tens of thousands of men were
employed in making these gigantic works, rightly de
scribed as " a stupendous citadel, wherein to deposit
the independence of the whole Peninsula"; and it is
a most astonishing fact that these vast creations
were planned and completed with such secrecy — this
was a masterpiece of Wellington's art — that their
very existence was unknown in Europe and even in
England. The lines of Torres Vedras, the name they bear
in history, and Wellington's other arrangements for
the defence of Portugal, in conception and execu
tion were one of the most splendid specimens of
the military art, in the great war between France
and Europe. They were illustrations, on the very
grandest scale, of sagacity, of forethought, of the
adaptation of means to ends, in resisting the gi
gantic power of Napoleon ; and they were the first
permanent check in his career of conquest. And, it
adds to our admiration of this magnificent design
that it was carried out in spite of misgivings in Eng
land, in spite of fears openly avowed by the British
Government ; in spite of alarm and scepticism in
Wellington's camp. A Tory Ministry had retained
oflfice and the hopes of the Opposition had vanished ;

114 Wellington
but with the single exception of Lord Wellesley,
the successor of Canning as Foreign Minister, the
Cabinet of Percival had little faith in the possibility
of a successful defence of Portugal ; and this was
the opinion of most of the distinguished oflficers on
the spot. From this point of view the attitude
of the British commander was an exhibition of con
stancy, of resolution, of moral power, to which
hardly a parallel can be found in war ; he stood as
it were, on a rock in Portugal, defying all that
Napoleon could do against him, his countrymen
and his lieutenants filled with forebodings, depend
ing on himself, and himself alone. Meanwhile his
great adversary had his preparations made for re-
invading Portugal, and for what, he was convinced,
would prove an easy conquest. Had Napoleon had
the slightest idea that the Portuguese auxiliaries
now formed a real army, and that the lines of Torres
Vedras were practically not to be assailed with
success in front, he would doubtless have drawn
together the mass of his forces in Spain, and moved
them in overwhelming numbers upon Portugal ; and
had he entered that kingdom from the south, as well
as from the north, the lines might perhaps have been
turned, and the defences of Wellington made to fall.
Such a combination would not have been diflficult,
had not an army been almost thrown away in false
operations in Andalusia ; but even now it was not
impossible, had the Emperor thought the occasion
had come. But Napoleon persisted in a belief that
a small British army, of which, too, he much under
rated the strength, was the only enemy to be found

MARSHAL SOULT.
CAfter the pointing by Rouillard.)

Busaco, Torres Vedras, Fuentes d'Onoro 115
in Portugal ; he thought the Portuguese levies
beneath contempt ; above all, he remained in com
plete ignorance of the formidable obstacle laid in his
path, should a French army try to make a direct
march on Lisbon. It will always be a mystery that
this consummate master of war, who had spies and
partisans in every part of Europe, was absolutely
uninformed as to the most essential fact, when he
formed his plans in 18 10 for a descent on Portugal. '
The preparations of Napoleon were, nevertheless,
imposing, even if really insufificient for the intended
enterprise. Armies, probably 120,000 strong, had
been concentrated in Leon and Castile, to carry the
war across the Portuguese frontier; the first line
was composed of some 650,00 men, largely veterans
of the best quality ; the second was not much in
ferior in numbers and was, if necessary, to reinforce
the first, and to guard the long line of communi
cations with France, always infested by the active
Spanish guerrillas. These collective arrays had
been placed under the command of Massena, con
fessedly the ablest of the Imperial marshals ; he had
been directed, in the first instance, to take Ciudad
Rodrigo, and Almeida, frontier fortresses on the
northern verge of Portugal, — Ciudad, indeed, is just
within Spain,— and then gathering together his fore
most line, the corps of Ney, of Junot, of Reynier —
this last moving from the valley of the Tagus, to
reach Wellington, to overthrow him, and to march
straight on Lisbon. A word here may be said on
' The Correspondence of Napoleon at this time shows that he
did not give the affairs of the Peninsula the attention they required.

1 1 6 Wellinzton

'i>'

the renowned French chief who had been entrusted
with a mission he could not fulfil, and of which,
strange to say, he had had grave misgivings. Mas
sena was inferior, perhaps, as a strategist to Soult,
inferior certainly as a tactician to Ney ; he was not
a master of the great combinations of war ; he was
licentious, rapacious, not liked by his troops; but
he was capable of splendid efforts in the field, as
his great victory of Zurich proves ; his tenacity and
energy deserve the highest praise, as was seen in his
heroic defence of Genoa ; we may accept Welling
ton's decisive judgment, that he was the best of all
his Imperial opponents. The Marshal assumed his
command in June ; Ciudad Rodrigo had fallen on
the nth of July, after a siege on which it is un
necessary to dwell ; Almeida surrendered, in the last
days of August, in a great measure from the effects
of an accident. Meanwhile, Wellington, who for
some time, had concentrated the main part of his
army in the valley of the Mondego, around Guarda,
had, when made aware of the operations of the
French, advanced cautiously beyond Celorico, not
far from Almeida, in order to observe his antago
nists' movements ; but he properly refused to accept
a trial of strength, to which Massena endeavoured
to lure him, by feints, demonstrations, and an ap
parently careless attitude. This conduct was marked
by his characteristic wisdom ; he had not more than
24,000 men in hand, his best lieutenant. Hill, being
still far away, another lieutenant, Leith, being many
leagues distant ; a lost battle in his position would
have been his ruin, and a lost battle would have

Busaco, Torres Vedras, Fuentes d' Onoro Wj
been well-nigh a certainty. Disregarding, therefore,
the taunts of his enemy and angry recriminations
from Spanish and Portuguese allies, nay, even mur
muring voices in his own camp, the British General
allowed Ciudad Rodrigo and Almeida to fall, with
out making an attempt at relief ; in this course he
was unquestionably right. Rash movements, indeed,
of a brilliant lieutenant, Crawford, which nearly led
to a grave reverse, proved that Wellington's judg
ment was, as usual, correct.
After the fall of Almeida, Massena made a rather
long halt ; his army had not begun its advance until
the i6th of September. This has been charged to
the Marshal as a grave error ; it certainly gave Wel
lington what he needed, time ; but Reynier was lat6
in joining the main army ; the French were already
straitened for supplies. Massena's first object was
to gain Coimbra, a large town which he may have
wished to make a secondary base, and, if possible, to
bring Wellington to bay. After making a series of
dextrous feints, he marched, not down the valley of
the Mondego, a comparatively fertile and prosper
ous tract, but just north of the river, through a
barren and diflficult country. This appears distinctly
to have been an error ; but the Marshal relied on Por
tuguese nobles in his camp, who had traitorously
taken the side of the French ; he knew nothing of
the region he was passing through ; he took, too, the
nearest route to Coimbra. His soldiers, however,
had begun to murmur, and Ney and Junot already
were complaining of their chief ; a train of his artil
lery had been nearly surprised and cut off ; he had

1 1 8 Wellington
hostile bands on his flank and rear ; he did not reach
Viseu until the 23rd of September, a place three or
four marches at least from Coimbra. Wellington
had fallen back through the valley of the Mondego,
watching his enemy, but not molested by him ; but
he had summoned HiU and Leith td come into line.
These lieutenants were even now at hand ; he could
dispose of not far from fifty thousand men. The
British commander resolved to offer battle to his
adversary in a strong position. This undoubtedly
was running considerable risk, but military reasons
did not determine his purpose. He was condemned
by the men in power at Lisbon for what they
deemed an ignominious retreat, as he had been con
demned for leaving Ciudad Rodrigo and Almeida
to their fate. His own oflficers and soldiers who
were in ignorance of the lines, and thought that all
before them was a long march to the sea, were
vexed that they had not measured themselves with
the enemy ; and though Massena's advance had been
slow, the population had only partially wasted the
country, and the Marshal had all the moral advan
tage of a bold offensive. Under these conditions
Wellington crossed the Mondego, and standing be
tween Visfeu and Coimbra drew up his army along
the ridge of Busaco, a kind of spur of the Sierra
Alcoba, itself an offshoot of the great Sierra Cara-
mula. The position of the British General was ad
mirably chosen for the defensive battle he had
decided to fight. The ridge afforded a formidable
obstacle to the onset of the French, for they could
only attack from a deep valley below, and they

Busaco, Torres Vedras, Fuentes d' Onoro 1 1 9
would have to ascend very diflficult heights. Its
crest afforded space for the first British line, but
screened the reserves which were arrayed behind.
It made Massena's powerful cavalry completely use
less, for they could not act on ground of the kind, and
it greatly impeded the effective fire of the French ar
tillery. The front of the position extended about
five miles ; it was to be occupied by nearly forty
thousand men ; it was probably not to be stormed
by a direct attack. But it might have been turned
on the left by a pass of the name of Boyalva, and
this had been left well-nigh unguarded, a mistake
which might have cost Wellington dear.
The advance guard of the French had reached
the approaches to Busaco on the 25th of September;
the corps of Ney and Reynier were close to the
ridge on the 26th ; they numbered more than thirty-
five thousand men, for the most part veterans of the
Imperial army. At this moment Leith and Hill
were nearly half a march distant ; Wellington had
not more than twenty-five thousand men in hand ;
his position had not been completely occupied.
Ney and Reynier were eager to fall on at once, but
Massena was at Montagoa in the rear ; very prob
ably he had much to attend to, but there is reason to
believe that he wasted time on the object of a dis
creditable amour. The Marshal, bringing with him
the corps of Junot, did not join his heutenants until
the afternoon. The attack was postponed to the
next day. Ney and Reynier, it is said, were now
opposed to the attempt.
Meanwhile Leith and Hill had come into hne with

1 20 Wellington
their chief; the position was held by the mass of
his forces ; his arrangements had been perfected for
the impending conflict. It had been decided, in the
enemy's camp, that the attack was to be conducted
by Ney and Reynier, the corps of Junot being kept
in reserve ; it was to be made by their troops at the
same time ; but it was not so made, and this was
a capital mistake. At daybreak on the 27th, Ney
being still motionless, the columns of Reynier,
throwing out their cloud of skirmishers, advanced
against Wellington's right and right centre; they
had soon emerged from the valley below ; they
scaled the diflficult height before them with exult
ing cheers, and though but little supported by the
fire of their guns, they had reached the summit in
less than half an hour, " with astonishing power and
resolution overthrowing everything that opposed
their progress." The division of Picton and the
Portuguese auxiliaries were driven back ; this part of
the position had been nearly won, spite of a stern
and fierce resistance ; it might perhaps have been
won had the assailants had a reserve at hand. But
if Wellington's line had been broken at one point,
and his retreat on Coimbra had been threatened, his
troops would not confess defeat ; the division of
Leith restored the battle, plying the enemy with a
murderous fire, and graduaUy forcing him from the
crest of the height ; Hill, coming up from the ex
treme right, made victory secure. Meanwhile Ney,
after a delay of some hours, had begun his attack
against WeUington's left. This was mpre skilfully
directed than that of Reynier, but the ground was

Busaco, Torres Vedras, Fuentes d' Onoro 1 2 1
more diflficult, and it met the same fate. One of
the Marshal's divisions, that of Loison, ascended the
height before it, and nearly attained the top ; the
men, who had retained their formation, though hardly
pressed, made an effort to fall on the enemy in their
front ; but as usual, the column was overcome by the
line ; " the head was violently overturned and driven
upon the rear ; both flanks were lapped over by the
I English wings, and three terrible discharges at five
yards' distance completed the rout." The second of
Ney's divisions — the third was held in reserve — en
deavoured to turn the right of Crawford, to whom
the honour of Loison's defeat was due ; but it was
kept completely in check, and it fell back, beaten.
In this hard-fought engagement the French army
was weakened by at least 4500 men, for the most
part soldiers of the first quality, — many of the regi
ments had seen Jena and Austerlitz ; it had, in fact,
suffered a terrible reverse. Massena had not con
ducted the battle well; his troops gave proof of
heroic valour, but they were not sustained by a re
serve at any point ; their three arms could not act
together ; the position ought not to have been assailed
in front. And the blame the Marshal deserved was
increased by this ; before he made an ill-conceived
attack, he had been made aware that his enemy's
left could be turned by the pass of Boyalva ; but it
has been said that he yielded to the first counsels of
Ney and Reynier, with whom he was already at odds,
through fear that the Emperor would be informed
that an opportunity of success had been missed.
The losses of, Wellington were not 1500 men, his

1 2 2 Wellington
tactical dispositions had been as good as possible ; if
his right centre was for a moment in peril, he gained
a real victory along his whole line ; what was more
important, the moral power of his army, which had
been impaired, was restored ; the Portuguese auxil
iaries inspired daily increasing confidence.
The defeat of Busaco had been such a weighty stroke
that Massena's lieutenants were for an immediate re
treat ; this, too, was the judgment of the British chief ;
he had written that the invaders ought not to have
gone farther, unless they could be largely reinforced
from Spain.' But tenacity was one of Massena's dis
tinctive qualities : he had been positively ordered to
proceed to Lisbon, and he had no notion of what he
would have to encounter ; he is hardly to be censured
for continuing his onward march. The Marshal now
did what he ought to have done before : leaving the
corps of Junot to cover the movement, and aban
doning hundreds of his wounded men, he made, on
the evening after the battle, for the pass of Boyalva ;
he found no hostile force in the defile ; the excuse
that a detachment of Portuguese had been employed
to guard it and was not on the spot for some unex
plained reason, appears to be of little or no value.
Within a few hours the whole French army had
emerged from the pass ; but this was a flank march
in the presence of a victorious enemy, at a distance
of only eight or ten miles ; Wellington has been con
demned for not seizing an advantage that might have
had immense results ; in this, one of his few short
comings in a memorable campaign, we perhaps may
' Selection, pp. 399, 400. Wellington's language is emphatic.

ANDRE MASSENA, DUKE DE RIVOLI.
(After the painting by Maurice )

Busaco, Torres Vedras, Fuentes d' Onoro 123
see a defect in war characteristic of him, he very
seldom made the most of success. The left of the
British General had now been turned, but he crossed
the Mondego safely, and made good his retreat ; his
adversary made no attempt to molest him. Massena
had entered Coimbra by the 1st of October ; he halted
on the spot for three days — a delay for which he can
hardly be blamed — to form a depot and to restore
his army ; leaving only a small detachment and his
wounded behind, he boldly advanced with the mass
of his forces. His pursuit, however, was feeble and
slow ; the country on his line of march had been
harried and wasted ; Wellington was chiefly harassed
by the crowds of refugees from Coimbra who followed
his columns.
From the 8th to the loth of October, the allied
army had almost made its way within the celebrated
lines. Hill lay along the heights of Alhandra to the
right ; Crawford held the centre between Aruda and
Sobral; Leith and Picton stood on the left beyond
Torres Vedras toward the sea ; the first line of
defence was fully occupied ; the second was guarded
by a suflficient reserve. After a slight brush with
the British General's rearguard, Massena had attained
the lines by the uth ; he had heard a few days before
that some defensive works had been thrown up ; but
he had not the shghtest conception of the stu
pendous barrier which now rose before him, and was
defended by the men who won Busaco. The veteran,
however, would not flinch ; he searched the position
from right to left, examining two or three of the
most vulnerable points ; it has been said that he

1 24 Wellington
contemplated for a moment an attack pressed home.
But such an effort,whatever French critics have urged,
could only have led to a crushing defeat ; the army
of Wellington was daily increasing by additions of
Spanish and Portuguese troops ; the second line was
even more formidable than the first ; it may safely be
asserted that the twofold mighty obstacle could not
have been overcome by an attack in front even though
made by one hundred thousand men ; it could only
have been turned by a movement from the other bank
of the Tagus. In this position of affairs Massena
rightly gave up any idea of a direct assault on the lines;
he adopted a course not justified by the event, perhaps
not strategically wise, but characteristic of the man,
and from his point of view not without reason. Impos
ing silence on his discontented lieutenants, who in
sisted that a retreat had become a necessity, he re
solved to take a position before the lines from which he
could hold Wellington in check, perhaps induce the
British General to fight, and on which he could at once
menace Lisbon, carry out as well as he could his
master's orders, and, as might be expected, could
obtain the large reinforcements from Spain, even
from France, he had right to look for. Drawing off,
therefore, skilfully from the front of his enemy, he es
tablished his army around Santarem and the adjoin-
ning country, a tract only a few miles distant frbm
the lines, comparatively fertile and not ravaged, af
fording points for a defensive battle, and commanding
the routes that extend to Coimbra. At the same
time he made preparations to bridge the Tagus, and
its affluent the Zezfere, in the hope that assistance

Busaco, Torres Vedras, Fuentes d'Onoro 125
might reach him from the South, and he sent that
distinguished officer, Foy, to inform Napoleon of the
events that had happened, and to demand the rein
forcements required" if he was to fulfil his task. The
arrangement was a masterly one if Massena's project
could be accomplished.
Napoleon has severely condemned the conduct
of his lieutenant in thus standing before the lines.
This view was strengthened by an unlucky accident :
Coimbra had been seized by a levy of Portuguese ;
Massena's detachment and his wounded had been
captured or slain ; the French army had lost a depot
and fully 4000 men. The Emperor has insisted that
the Marshal, after Busaco, ought to have occupied
Coimbra in force ; to have taken possession of the
country around ; to have extended his right wing as
far as Oporto ; and to have awaited the arrival of re
inforcements from Andalusia and the south.' Wel
lington, it is unnecessary to say, thought Massena
completely in the wrong : as he ought to have fallen
back from Busaco, he ought the more certainly to
fall back now ; this was " the measure which it was
the most expedient for the French to adopt." "
Nevertheless, despite these weighty opinions, much
is to be said for what Massena did ; he kept his ad
versary confined within a nook of Portugal ; the mili
tary power of France in the Peninsula was immense ;
it was practicable, at least from his point of view, to
send him large aid from Andalusia and the Castiles ;
in that case the lines might have been turned from
the eastern bank of the Tagus, and Lisbon might

' Nap. Corr., pp. 31-362. ' Selection, p. 344.

126 Wellington
have been reduced to submission ; it hardly lay in
Napoleon's mouth to censure operations which real
ly conformed to his commands. Wellington, after
Massena's movement on Santarem, was at the head
of 60,000 or 70,000 men, to a considerable extent
very good soldiers ; the French army was probably
not more than 50,000 strong, and was suffering from
all kinds of privations; the British General has
been sharply criticised for not falling on his adversary
under these conditions. We may, perhaps, see
here his characteristic caution and his occasional
neglect to appeal to Fortune ; but his seeming in
action was probably in all respects justified. Mas
sena's army, if weakened, was still powerful, and,
what is more important, had not lost heart ; it would
have been very formidable, had it been attacked in
one of the excellent positions it might have taken ;
in the event of a defeat of the British commander,
" failure, " in his own words, " would be the loss of
the whole cause." ' It should be added that Wel
lington probably believed that Massena's troops
could not long find the means of subsistence in the
country they held, and would soon be compelled to
make a disastrous retreat ; he thus took a position
not far from Santarem, hoping to assail his enemy
when success would be certain. This expectation,
however, was not fulfilled ; the hostile armies re
mained watching each other for months ; this was a
striking instance of the resolution of the veteran
Marshal, and also of the extraordinary skill with
which an army of Napoleon could organise rapine
' Selection, p. 413.

Busaco, Torres Vedras, Fuentes d'Onoro 127
and exist on scanty resources found on the spot.
Meanwhile Massena threw a bridge across the
Zez^re, and hoped to be able to bridge the Tagus,
ever looking forward to the assistance of his Imperial
master. During these events Foy had safely arrived in
Paris ; had informed Napoleon of the position of
affairs ; and had urged the necessity of reinforcing
Massena in strength, with an army possibly as large
as that which had invaded Portugal, and operating
on both banks of the Tagus. He found the Emperor
angry with his great lieutenant, who, he said, had
made a series of mistakes, and deceived by the illu
sions to which he yet clung ; the Portuguese levies
were completely worthless ; Wellington had not more
than twenty-five thousand good troops ; the lines
might have been stormed by a vigorous effort. Nev
ertheless, seeing that Massena was in a diflficult plight,
he gave directions that supports should be sent to the
Marshal from Leon, the Castiles, and Andalusia ; the
war must be brought to an end by the defeat of Wel
lington and the occupation of the Portuguese capi
tal. Orders were given that D'Erlon should advance
from the north, and join hands with the army before
the lines ; that Dorsenne should co-operate with the
same purpose; that Joseph should send divisions
from Madrid ; above all, that Soult should push for
ward from Andalusia and come into line with Mas
sena on the southern bank of the Tagus. By these
means eighty thousand, even one hundred thousand
men might be assembled to force and turn the de
fences of WeUington; the Emperor stiff believed that

128 Wellington
success was certain. In principle these directions
were well conceived ; but the great warrior, stiff ig
norant of the real facts, had miscalculated his military
resources in Spain and was once more conducting
war from a distance. It was scarcely possible to
array such a mass of forces to assail the lines, even
had Napoleon taken the supreme command ; the
communications with the North were in continual
danger ; the army of Joseph was held in check at
Madrid ; the siege of Cadiz paralysed Victor and was
keeping the besiegers upon the spot ; Soult, though
disposing of a still powerful force, was harassed in
Andalusia by the guerrillas and by the wrecks of
the beaten Spanish armies. Napoleon in truth had
missed an occasion which he might have seized in
the first months of 1810, and besides he had turned
his attention from the Peninsula. His relations with
the Czar had become unfriendly ; he had annexed
the Duchy of Oldenburg, a state of one of the Czar's
kinsmen ; he was impoverishing Russia by the Con
tinental System ; he had refused to declare that Po
land should not be restored ; his ally was jealous of
his marriage with Marie Louise. In these circum
stances, the Imperial orders were ill obeyed ; Dor
senne never approached the Tagus; D'Erlon only
reached Massena with some ten thousand men ; Soult,
moving from Andalusia with perhaps twenty thou
sand, was delayed for weeks in laying siege to Bada
joz, and remained far away from the decisive point,
the Tagus. For this conduct the Marshal has been
severely blamed, but it is diflficult to say that he
made a mistake : the enterprise would have been very

Busaco, Torres Vedras, Fuentes d'Onoro 129
dangerous, and Massena and Soult, even if united,
would not have compelled Wellington to abandon
the lines.
It had become manifest, by the first days of March,
18 II, that Massena could no longer maintain his po
sition. His army was not more than fifty thousand
strong, even with the reinforcements that had been
brought by D'Erlon ; it was isolated in a hostile
country, which had been ravaged and turned into a
waste; it had only supplies for a few days; the
prospect of obtaining further support had vanished.
The sound of artiUery on the side of Badajoz had
been heard, but it had ceased, or at least was at a
great distance ; Massena had not been able to bridge
the Tagus, a necessity if he was to be joined by
Soult. The veteran made up his mind with pain to
retreat; in truth, no other conceivable course was
open. The retrograde movement, if marked by
more than one mistake, was conducted, on the whole,
with admirable skill ; but the French and the Portu
guese had become deadly foes ; it was disgraced by
reckless barbarities and shameful excesses.' On the
4th of March Massena drew off his sick and wounded
men ; he contrived to screen this operation from the
British chief ; on the 5th and 6th his army was in
full march by the main roads that led to Coimbra.
Massena had thus gained an advantage ; Wellington
cautiously followed the retiring columns ; Ney fought
a brilliant engagement at Redinha of the same char
acter as that of Rolica, in which the manoeuvring
power of the French was very apparent. Massena
^Selection, p. 449.
9

130 Wellington
resolved if possible to prolong the contest, and, eager
to resume an offensive attitude, sought to cross the
Mondego and to hold Coimbra ; from that place he
would be in a region which had not suffered much ;
he still hoped that his master would reinforce his
army. But the main bridge on the Mondego had
been broken down ; Ney had not defended the pass
of Condeixa, which covered the approaches to Coimi
bra ; the French army was compelled to march to
the frontier by the southern branch of the Mondego
through a diflficult country. A series of partial com
bats took place, to the advantage generally of the
allied army; the French suffered a real defeat at Sa-
bugal, not far from the borders of Spain ; in the last
days of March Massena had crossed the Portuguese
frontier ; his army was not more than forty thousand
strong; it was a shattered and disorganised wreck.
Yet the Marshal would not forego his purpose ; he
insisted, when his men had had time to recruit their
strength, on making an effort to descend on Coria,
and co-operating with Soult to advance to the Tagus,
and to renew the campaign under better auspices.
But his lieutenants had been quarrelling for months
with him ; Ney, notably, refused to obey his orders ;
he instantly deprived the Marshal of his command.
Massena, after his calamitous retreat, spread his
army in cantonments around Salamanca ; the move
ment on Coria, had to be given up ; it is impossible
to suppose that it could have been successful.
Meanwhile WeUington had invested Almeida, and,
believing that he could not be attacked for a time,
had gone in person into Estremadura, where his

Busaco, Torres Vedras, Fuentes d' Onoro 1 3 1
presence on the spot would no doubt be of much ad
vantage. Events in Spain had taken an unfortunate
turn for the French, while Massena was painfully
making his way out of Portugal. Soult had taken
Badajoz after a protracted siege, and other places of
little value ; but Welhngton had sent Beresford and
Hill, with a considerable force, to retake the fort
ress. The Marshal was being involved in a sea of
troubles. The siege of Cadiz had become a great
operation of war ; Victor still persisted in clinging to
the spot ; he had had enormous cannon made for
bombarding the city ; he had placed a flotilla on the
lagoons; but the resistance he encountered defied
his efforts. Cadiz, rising from a peninsula, enclosed
by the sea, was exceedingly diflficult to attack from
the land ; it had the support of a British squadron,
and of an army weekly increasing in strength ; in
fact, Victor was menaced in his own camp, and had
become less a besieger than a besieged. A mixed
British and Spanish force had been told off to fall on
his lines, but the Marshal had advanced to give it
battle ; he had been defeated with heavy loss at
Barrossa, but he had averted a disaster that might
have been fatal. Soult, in supreme command in
Andalusia, found' the affairs in that kingdom in a
deplorable state ; the conquerors had nearly been
imprisoned within their own conquest. Murat had
faUed to make a descent on Sicily ; a British detach
ment had been sent to take part in the defence of
Cadiz; Murcia was stirring with a fast-spreading
revolt ; the French armies in Andalusia, greatly
reduced in numbers, were beset by guerriUas on

132 Wellington
every side, and by the remains of the Spanish armies ;
they held only the wasted tracts that they occupied,
and were disseminated over an immense region.
Such had been the results of an invasion utterly
ill conceived ; a fine army of eighty thousand men,
which, if rightly directed, might have done great
things, had been nearly reduced to impotence, and
was now probably not sixty thousand strong.' Soult
had only a small garrison to throw into Badajoz ; it
seemed that the fortress would erelong fall ; it was
this that had brought Wellington near the scene of
events. The army of Massena had, meanwhile, been reor
ganised more rapidly than could havebeen supposed,
and had been made again an eflficient instrument of
war. Napoleon, however, was now bent on con
ducting a mighty crusade of the West against the
East, and on beginning the enterprise which was to
lead to the retreat from Moscow. The Czar had
resented the annexation of the domain of a kinsman,
had refused to carry out to extremes the Continental
System, and was making slight preparations for war.
Napoleon was incensed at what he deemed a chal
lenge, and was making ready for a campaign far
beyond the Niemen. Bodies of troops were being
slowly moved from Italy and across Germany, every

' Wellington has clearly pointed out the mistake made by Napo
leon in sanctioning the invasion of Andalusia: "It was obvious
that the French were in error when they entered Andalusia. They
should have begun by turning their great force against the English
in Portugal, holding in check the Spanish force in Andalusia,"—
Selection, p. 434.

Busaco, Torres Vedras, Fuentes d' Onoro 133
precaution being taken to assure secrecy ; the French
armies in Spain were being weakened by degrees;
the reinforcements sent to Massena were small;
they consisted of only a few thousand men added
to D'Erlon's division, and of a detachment of the
Imperial Guard under Bessiferes, a good cavalry
oflficer, but in no sense a general. Massena had
soon collected about 50,000 men, but Bessiferes was
a jealous and unsympathetic colleague ; Loison, who
had been given the command of Ney, was an unwill
ing lieutenant, disliked by his soldiers ; Junot and
Reynier had never ceased to have disputes with
their veteran chief. The Marshal, however, when
made aware that Wellington was many leagues dis
tant, resolved to advance to the relief of Almeida,
and if possible to fight a great battle, which might
retrieve a reputation somewhat impaired, and recall
victory once more to the Imperial standards. He
had reached Ciudad Rodrigo in the last days of
April, 1 8 II, and was soon on the way to Almeida,
at the head of some 40,000 good troops, of whom
5000 were very fine cavalry ; he found the allies in a
position before Almeida, which was still invested
and seemed on the point of falling. Wellington had
only resumed his command on the 28th ; it is not
certain whether the dispositions made for his army
were arranged by himself or by a subordinate, but
they did not give proof of his remarkable tactical
skill. His front was covered by the stream of the
Dos Casas, by the village of Fuentes d'Onoro, and
by a large ravine, but the position could be turned
on the right, where the ravine ended in marshy flats.

1 34 Wellington
which were passable, however, even by cavalry.
His army occupied a kind of tableland between the
Dos Casas, and the Turones, a stream fordable indeed,
but deep ; Almeida and the river Coa were in his
immediate rear. Should his right, therefore, be
forced and the position lost, he ran the risk of a
very grave defeat. He was much inferior in num
bers to his opponent ; he had some 32,000 men and
only 1200 cavalry; these last in by no means good
condition for battle.
Fuentes d'Onoro was attacked by a part of the
French army on the 3rd of May. This seems to
have been a distinct mistake; the attack, as at
Busaco, was made in front ; the position was for a
time imperUled, but the allies ultimately beat back
the enemy. Massena spent the 4th in carefully.
reconnoitring the ground ; he soon perceived the
weak point of his adversary's line, lie resolved to
turn Wellington's right by a powerful force and si
multaneously to fall on the British General's front ;
had his dispositions been properly carried out he
probably would have gained a victory, considering the
superiority in numbers of the French army. Wel
lington made arrangements to meet an effort of this
kind ; but it can hardly be said that these were ade
quate ; he extended his right along the marsh, which
possibly he may have thought impassable, but he
placed only a body of partisans on the spot, and at
first but a single division of British infantry. The
attack of the French, intended to have been made
at daybreak, was delayed for some unknown reason ;
but in the early forenoon of the 5th of May a mass

Busaco, Torres Vedras, Fuentes d'Onoro 135
of cavalry, sustained by the corps of Junot, was seen
advancing across the flat, menacing Poco VeUo and
Nava d'Aver on the British right. The detachment
of partisans was driven off the field, and the single
British division was placed in extreme danger; it
has been said that had Loison seconded Junot, as
he might have done, the British right might not
only have been turned, but overwhelmed. The ar
rival, however, of two British divisions, and of
the small and feeble body of British horse, to a cer
tain extent restored the battle ; but the superiority
of the enemy, especially of his cavalry, was great ;
Wellington had to make new dispositions for his
defence. Withdrawing slowly his endangered right,
he effected a change of front in retreat ; and took
another position on rising ground between the Dos
Casas and the Turones, falling back a distance of
more than two miles. This was a most difificult and
delicate movement ; the French horsemen showed
astonishing boldness, and though their onset was
checked by the retiring infantry, which halted when
pressed, and formed squares, " in all the war there
was not a more dangerous hour for England." In
deed had Bessi^res, at a crisis perhaps decisive, sent
a few squadrons of the Imperial Guard to support
Montbrun, the all but victorious chief of the attack
ing cavalry, the British General could hardly have
averted a defeat ; but this help was refused on a
frivolous pretext ; the retrograde movement was
maintained in order ; the new position was success
fully won. The French now opened a heavy can
nonade on the narrow front which had thus been

136 Wellington
formed ; this caused much loss, but was kept under
by the opposing guns ; the efforts of the French cav
alry were made fruitless ; the assailants were brought
completely to a stand. Meanwhile the original front
of WeUington along Fuentes d'Onoro had been at
tacked; but here, too, the attack was late; D'Erlon
gave little proof of energy or resource. Reynier, on
Massena's extreme right, remained almost motionless.
It has been said that this remissness was caused by
want of suflficient munitions, which Bessi^res might
have supplied, but refused ; it was at least as probably
due in the main to the supineness and faults of Mas
sena's lieutenants, suffering from the fatigues of the
campaign, and discontented with their chief. The
allied army remained master of the field, but Fuentes
d'Onoro can hardly be called a British victory ; it
was a fierce encounter in which a reverse was for a
time imminent. If we bear in mind the defects of
the British chief's position, a defeat might have had
grave results.'
Massena retreated after the battle, gnashing his
teeth at his lieutenants and notably at Bessiferes,
who seems to have been a very disloyal colleague.
The surrender of Almeida now appeared certain ;

' Wellington was one of the most truthful of men. His remarks
on the battle deserve notice. ' ' Lord Liverpool was quite right not
to move thanks for the battle of Fuentes, though it was the most
difficult I was ever concerned in, and against the greatest odds. We
had very nearly three to one against us engaged; above four to one
of cavalry, and moreover our cavalry had not a gallop in them, while
some of that of the enemy was fresh and in excellent order. If Bony
had been there we should havebeen beaten," — Supp. Despatches, pp,
7-176,

Busaco, Torres Vedras, Fuentes d' Onoro 137
but the garrison escaped through a most skilful
and brilliant feat of arms ; the fortress was partially
blown up and was not taken. Massena was erelong
superseded by Napoleon, an unjust, nay, a cruel
sentence ; Marmont, a very inferior man, was placed
in his stead. The veteran was never at the head
of an army again ; he was wanting to his master
when the days of fatal disasters came ; but history
has not forgotten Zurich and Genoa. In the cam
paign in Portugal he made a few mistakes ; his health
was perhaps in some degrep impaired, but he gave
proof of his great qualities in war; his discomfiture
was partly due to the misconduct of his colleagues,
mainly to his having been committed to an enter
prise in utter ignorance of the most important facts
ofthe case, and with wholly inadequate forces. Mis
takes, too, may be laid to Wellington's charge: he
ought not to have neglected the pass of Boyalva ; he
may have been rather slow in pressing his enemy's re
treat ; it is diflficult to suppose that his position at
Fuentes d'Onoro was chosen by himself. But these
are only spots on the sun ; they disappear in the
splendour of his designs for the defence of Portugal;
in the construction of the invincible lines ; in the ad
mirable arrangement of a magnificent campaign. He
seized the true decisive points on the theatre of the
war ; made Portugal a fortress fronted by impregna
ble works and garrisoned by a powerful army, which
defied the efforts of the best of the Imperial mar
shals ; he completely, above all secretly, carried out
his purpose, in spite of misgiving at home and mur
murs in his own camp ; and, perceiving fuUy and

138 Wellington
clearly the faults of his enemy, he never hesitated,
but brought to a triumphant issue a defence which
astounded soldiers and statesmen throughout the
civilised world. A limit had now been placed on
Napoleon's conquests; a French army never entered
Portugal again ; Spain was thenceforward to be the
theatre of the Peninsular War. No impartial mind
can doubt but thatin this contest the British General
eclipsed and defeated Napoleon : not that he wasthe
equal in war of the modern Hannibal, but that he
conducted his operations with admirable skill and re
source on the spot while the Emperor, by directing
them from an immense distance, made a whole series
of palpable mistakes, which inevitably led to por
tentous failures ; in fact seemed to be, in more than
one instance, like the blind leading the blind. Wel
lington, too, owed something to the disputes of the
French commanders ; but this was not the main
cause of what happened in the campaign of 18 10-
181 1, decidedly the finest exhibition of his superi
ority in war.

CHAPTER VI
CIUDAD RODRIGO, BADAJOZ, SALAMANCA,
BURGOS
Wellington's defence of Portugal again stirs opinion on the Conti
nent against Napoleon — Discontent in France, especially with
the Peninsular War — Policy of Napoleon — Weakness of the
position of the French in Spain— Joseph resigns his crown —
Napoleon, intent on war with Russia, menaces the Continent,
and tries to restore the situation in the Peninsula, to little pur
pose — The Empire apparently at its height in the eyes of most
men — Distress in England — Confidence of Wellington — State of
the armies in the Peninsula — First siege of Badajoz — Battle of
Albuera — Second siege of Badajoz — It is raised — Junction of
Soult and Marniont — Wellington on the Caya — The marshals
separate — Wellington purposes to take Ciudad Rodrigo and
Badajoz — His preparations — He is in danger at El Bodon —
Progress of the French army in the East — Siege and fall of
Tarragona — Suchet at Valencia — Napoleon directs a large part
of his forces to the East — Arroyo Molinos — Wellington takes
Ciudad Rodrigo — Reduction of the French armies in Spain —
Third siege of Badajoz — The place taken after a desperate
resistance — Wellington invades Spain — Operations of Marmont
— Wellington outmanoeuvred — Great victory of Wellington at
Salamanca— Fine retreat of Clausel — Wellington occupies Mad
rid — He besieges Burgos and fails — Soult forced to evacuate
Andalusia — Wellington retreats from Burgos — He is threatened
by the united French armies, but makes good his way to Ciudad
Rodrigo.
THE successful defence of Portugal in 1810-11
sent again a thrill through the submissive
Continent. Ma.ssena had recoUed from the
hnes of Torres Vedras ; had been compeUed to
make a disastrous retreat ; had brought back to

139

140 Wellington
Spain only the wreck of an army. The opera
tions of Wellington in war began to be studied,
as the operations of Napoleon had been studied
before; the importance of wasting a country, and
of a great material obstacle in checking French
invasion and conquest, had been fully perceived.
The overthrow of Massena and the means by which
it had been effected encouraged the Czar to take
a bolder attitude ; he increased his preparations to
resist his late ally, and moved part of his armies
from the Danubian provinces ; Russia could assur
edly make as good a stand as Portugal. The Aus
trian Court, directed by Metternich and in some
measure bound by the recent marriage alliance,
remained openly on good terms with the French
Emperor, though the Austrian aristocracy was, as
always, hostile ; but Germany was stirred again with a
patriotic movement, unchecked by vassals of the Con
federation of the Rhine, especially manifest in down
trodden Prussia. The regular army of that Power
had, at Napoleon's bidding, been reduced to an in
significant force; but a man of genius, Scharnhorst,
had continued to increase its strength fourfold by
passing recruits through its ranks in rapid succession ;
it was now burning to avenge Jena ; one of its chiefs,
Blucher, though only a rude soldier, had, with insight
quickened by hatred, seen, as Wellington with the
eyes of wisdom had seen, that the stability of the
French Empire — a defiance to European history —
was not assured, and might not be permanent.
Meantime, the excesses of the Continental System
were provoking indignation, ever on the increase;

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15KCIBEO THE

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m.1 MAnflAJ. GLOKY I-ILLKU TBI-: WOIUJ).j

BLUCHER.
(From an old engraving.)

Ciudad Rodrigo 141
this was much aggravated by devices of a fraudulent
kind, employed to make it less onerous to France
and to Napoleon's policy. The quarrel, too, with
the Pope had been embittered ; Pius VII. had ex
communicated his Imperial tyrant, and had indi
rectly challenged his temporal power by refusing to
institute French bishops ; the Emperor had hastily
convened an episcopal council, and this had even
openly sympathised with the imprisoned Pontiff.
And in France herself there were signs of weakness
and discontent which the most despotic of Gov
ernments could not conceal or suppress. England,
supreme at sea, had destroyed French maritime
commerce; grass grew in the streets of Bordeaux
and Marseilles ; several industries of importance were
in decay, and the Continental System had stimu
lated French production in some directions to such
a dangerous extent that this had led to widespread
bankruptcy and distress. France, too, was sick of
war, and especially of the war with Spain, with its
reverses and its devouring waste ; a cry had gone
forth that " our youth were being sent to the sham
bles" ; at this very time fifty or sixty thousand
conscripts had eluded the summons to the Imperial
eagles, and were being hunted down, as malefactors,
from Brittany to Provence. Napoleon had ceased
to be the idol of a few years before ; it was signifi
cant that the birth of the young King of Rome made
little or no impression on the national mind.
Symptoms of decline that might ultimately lead to
its faU were thus showing themselves in the colossal
Empire, which was still dominant in three-fourths of

142 Wellington
the Continent. These were now strikingly apparent
on the theatre of events, where Napoleon had hoped
to find an easy conquest. It was not only that a
comparatively small army, directed by a chief whose
powers had become manifest, had repeatedly defeated
the Imperial legions and had made the Iberian Pen
insula a kind of place of arms of the highest ad
vantage to England in her European contest. It
was not only that the resources of the French Empire
were heavily taxed to keep up the war in Portugal
and Spain : more than 500,000 invaders had crossed
the Pyrenees ; ofthese fully 150,000 had disappeared ;
nearly 400,000 were required to keep up the struggle,
and yet the prospects of success seemed every year
darkening. Nor was it only that the Portuguese
levies had been gradually formed into a real army
growing in numbers and becoming very efficient in
the field ; that the universal Spanish rising had
proved impossible to put down, and was wasting
away the hosts of the enemy ; that the remains of
the Spanish armies, still of little value in the field,
were being reorganised in all parts of the country,
and were becoming a force that could not be de
spised ; that Spain had acquired a kind of regular
government which, though presumptuous, revolu
tionary, often unwise, and notably jealous of Eng
land, its true support, nevertheless represented the
united Spanish people. The usurping authority
Napoleon had set up in Spain had lost any influence
it might have acquired, and seemed at this juncture
on the verge of extinction. The Emperor had pro
mised to make Joseph a national sovereign, ruling

Ciudad Rodrigo 143
Spain in independence of France ; but Spain had
been treated as the mere spoil of conquest ; her ter
ritory had been parcelled out among French mar
shals, who preyed on it to support their armies, or
wasted it to maintain licence and rapine ; her re
sources had been employed to pay for the war; it
had openly been avowed that she was to be dismem
bered and to be deprived of her provinces north
of the Ebro. The Government of Joseph had been
completely set at naught ; he vegetated at Madrid
with an empty treasury, surrounded by a mock
Court in distress, often affronted by Napoleon's lieu
tenants, in fact, a scarecrow of royalty, not a king ;
all this had exposed him to general and profound
contempt, while his brother's arbitrary and iniquitous
conduct in Spain, his despotism, his exactions, above
all, his threat to annex a great part of the mon
archy to France, had stimulated the national rising
to the highest pitch, and had made all hopes of con
ciliation and peace vanish. Joseph declared his po
sition had become impossible to endure ; he went to
Paris and gave up the uneasy crown of Spain about
the time when Fuentes d'Onoro had been fought.
The new dynasty which Napoleon had set up beyond
the Pyrenees had effaced itself ; the symbol of his
power had suddenly disappeared, and this at the
moment when his armies had suffered a terrible
reverse ; when his lieutenants in Spain were ex
asperated by defeat, and were more than ever di
vided by jealousy and mutual ill-will.'
' Long before this time Wellington had perceived the growing
dissension betvveen Napoleon and Joseph. He wrote thus in June,

1 44 Wellington
Napoleon, still confident in his genius and his
sword, had little or no remedy but military force to
apply to this threatening position of affairs. He was
so indignant with Alexander that he thought for a
moment of invading Russia before the Czar's prepar
ations had been made ; but he soon abandoned this
premature design ; he spent the later months of 1811
and the months that followed in arranging for his
attack on the Empire of the East, the diflficulties of
which he had completely fathomed. Nor did he
neglect any means of assuring success ; he dangled
the lUyrian provinces before Austria as a possible
reward in the contest at hand ; he peremptorily
warned Prussia that, should she prove false, she
would be blotted out from the map of Europe ; he
insisted on the contingents of the Confederation of
the Rhine being ready ; he summoned a great army
across the Alps from Naples and Italy. For the
present he temporised with Pius VIL, having wrung
from him the chief concessions he wanted ; and
though he imprisoned two or three recalcitrant bish
ops, he did not pit the Empire against the Church,
always more afraid of moral than of material power,
as was manifest in several passages of his career. As
for France, he employed expedients, but to no great
purpose, to mitigate her commercial distress ; but he

1810: "I think there is something discordant in all the French
arrangements in Spain. Joseph divides his kingdom into prefect
ures, while Napoleon parcels it out into governments ; Joseph makes
a great military expedition into the south of Spain and undertakes
the siege of Cadiz, while Napoleon places all the troops and half the
kingdom under the command of Massena." — Selection, 367.

Ciudad Rodrigo 145
would not in any sense relax the Continental System ;
and, reckless of the murmurs heard far and near,
he left nothing undone to pursue his " refractory
conscripts," and he pushed the conscription to its
extreme limits ; at this time there were one million
men under the Imperial eagles, composed, however,
of many races and tongues. At this juncture he
once more devoted much attention to the Iberian
Peninsula ; he did not wish to leave a destructive
conflict in his rear, while he was about to lead the
armed hosts of the West beyond the Niemen. It ap
pears certain that for some weeks he contemplated
taking the field in person in Spain and Portugal ; this
can be gathered from parts of his correspondence ;
the rumour was so prevalent that Wellington
strengthened the lines, and made I'eady again to de
fend Lisbon. But the Emperor gave up a half-
formed purpose, which might have had momentous
results, and, bent on his crusade against Russia, he
treated the Peninsula as but a secondary object. He
increased, however, at least for a time, the forces he
had in Spain and on the Portuguese frontier; these
were raised to nearly four hundred thousand men,
but they were largely troops of not the best quahty.
As to the dispositions to be made of these vast
arrays, the armies in Spain were to be kept to their
strength, and the provinces they occupied were to be
held ; but Portugal was not to be invaded again ;
the fate of Massena had been a significant lesson.
Napoleon, however, appears to have been convinced
that the Peninsula could still be subdued when he
had brought his enterprise in Russia to a triumphant

1 46 Wellington
close; meanwhUe he believed that, even in 181 1,
Suchet and Soult could crush all resistance in the
South, and that Marmont and the army in the North
had nothing to fear from Welhngton. At the same
time he persuaded Joseph to play the part of a pup
pet king again, and to return in idle state to Madrid ;
he replenished, to a certain extent, his treasury ; he
he gave him the nominal command of all the French
armies in Spain. But he refused to say a word as
to the threatened dismemberment, he did not really
limit the power of his rapacious lieutenants ; he could
not put a stop to their animosities and ruinous dis
cords. These half measures only filmed over the
ulcerous part ; they left affairs in Spain hardly im
proved or changed.
To ordinary observers, nevertheless, nay, to the
great majority of soldiers and statesmen, the suprem
acy and the power of Napoleon seemed, at this junc
ture, as overwhelming as ever. He was master of the
Continent, except in Spain and Portugal ; war with
Russia had not yet been declared ; the belief was
general that the Czar would not resist, or that re
sistance would end in another Friedland. It was as
sumed, too, as the event was to show, that Germany
and Italy would bow to the will of their lord, and
would march with his eagles beyond the Niemen ;
and how could a half barbarian Empire cope with
the armed strength of three-fourths of the European
world ? England remained the only great Power at
war with Napoleon ; and though she was still om
nipotent at sea, and had conducted a successful
campaign in Portugal, it seemed in the highest de-

Ciudad Rodrigo 147
gree unlikely that she could permanently shake the
structure of the French Empire. And England, at
this time, had gravetroubles of herown ; shewasbeing
drawn into a quarrel with the United States ; her in
ternal condition hadbecome menacing; miUions ofher
poor population were sufferirig from distress, showing
itself too often in riotous discontent ; the pressure of
taxation on all classes was intense. Theglory of Torres
Vedras no doubt had stirred the national mind : the
Ministry maintained a bold attitude ; the cavillings
of the Opposition had ceased ; the army in the Penin
sula was being strengthened ; things were very dif
ferent from what they had been when a descent on
Portugal was deemed a forlorn hope. But very few
of the leading men of England believed that the
Peninsular War could be as ruinous to Napoleon as
it was to be ; Wellington probably was the only real
exception. His defence of Portugal had naturally
increased his confidence; his profound calculations
had been realised ; he was now convinced that the
war could be carried on with good hope in Spain,
and that it might be destructive of what he described
as "the fraudulent tyranny" which kept down the
Continent. The fears, too, of his subordinates
had become things of the past ; his lieutenants and
oflficers recognised the capacity of their chief; his
army, though largely composed of Portuguese, had
become a most f6rmidable and eflficient instrument
of war. And yet the inequality of his forces ap
peared prodigious when compared to those which
could be arrayed against him. English descents on
the coast of Spain could, no doubt, assist him ; he

1 48 Wellington
expected that a British contingent from Sicily would
come to his aid ; the guerrillas held in check thou
sands of the best troops of France, and made their
communications everywhere insecure ; the Spanish
armies were reappearing in the field ; the moral, even
the material, power of the. Spanish rising was great.
But probably, under existing conditions, he could
not oppose more than one hundred and sixty thou
sand men, including even his Spanish allies in the
field, to nearly four hundred thousand of those of
the enemy : the seeming disproportion of strength
was thus enormous : it would have appalled every
other commander who had tried to cope with Na
poleon. I may glance at the positions and the approximate
strength of the belligerent armies at this conjuncture.
Bessiferes, soon to be replaced by Dorsenne, was
in command of the French army of the North ;
this was composed of 50,000 or 60,000 troops ; and,
ever beset by bands of guerrillas, was guarding the
communications between France and Madrid, a task
of diflficulty, that usually kept it on this part of the
theatre of the war. Marmont was at Salamanca re
organising Massena's army ; he had probably 50,000
soldiers, on paper, and many of these were of ex
cellent quality, but the army was stUl suffering from
the effects of the campaign in Portugal. Joseph was
the nominal chief of the Army of the Centre, as it
was called ; this was from 20,000 to 30,000 strong ;
it was spread around Madrid and in the valley of the
upper Tagus. In the East, Suchet was in command
in Aragon : he had been given the chief part of Mac-

Ciudad Rodrigo 149
donald's forces, which had been employed against
the fierce Catalans ; he had administered his province
with justice and care — in fact, he was the least rapa
cious of the French generals : he had taken Lerida,
Tortosa, and other strongholds ; he had a fine army
of perhaps 70,000 men, of whom some 50,000 could
appear in the field ; he had been directed to be
siege and capture Tarragona, the greatest of the Cata-
lonian fortresses, to advance southwards to subdue
Valencia, and if possible to join hands with Soult.
That Marshal was in Andalusia at the head of an
army said to be 80,000 strong, but really hardly
more than 60,000 ; part of these troops was em
ployed in the siege of Cadiz, which every week was
proving to be all but hopeless ; the remaining parts
were scattered throughout the province, keeping the
population and the conquered cities down, or were
in Estremadura observing Badajoz, the only trophy
of the Campaign of 1810. The French armies were
thus spread over the whole of Spain, everywhere as
sailed by the national rising, and here and there by
the reviving Spanish armies ; they were under chiefs
who would seldom act cordially together ; thousands
of the soldiers were mere recruits, and as the cam
paign at hand was to prove, they had lost much of
their wonted confidence, and had learnt what was
the power of the British infantry. On the opposite
side Wellington probably disposed of some 80,000
men along the Portuguese frontier ; he had, too, a
considerable reserve ; he held a central position be
tween divided and distant enemies, and he had a for
midable and victorious army, moved to a man by

1 50 Wellington
his single wiU. It is unnecessary to add that he de
rived enormous support from the guerrillas and the
national rising, from the Spanish armies which, un
der Blake, BaUasteros, and other chiefs, were making
their presence felt, especially in the South and the
East, and from the descents of British squadrons on
the coasts of Spain, and, as I have said, he hoped to
see a British force from Sicily appear to give him
aid. HiU and Beresford had, we have seen, been de
tached before Fuentes d'Onoro to lay siege to
Badajoz. HiU had the covering army a few marches
distant : the siege feU to the share of Beresford, who
expected the support of one of the Spanish armies.
The attack, however, had hardly begun, when Soult
marched from Seville to the relief of the fortress at
the head of about 24,000 good troops : the Marshal
had his eyes always fixed on his late conquest. Well
ington, who, I have said, had left the main army
for Estremadura, was not on the scene ; Beresford
raised the siege on the 1 2th and 13th of March, and
advanced to Albuera, where he was joined by Blake
and Castanos, with from 15,000 to 20,000 Spaniards,
to offer battle to the enemy at hand. The allied
army was perhaps 35,000 strong; but the British in
fantry did not exceed 7000 men ; the Portuguese were
not more than 8000 ; the French army was very su
perior in really effective strength. These operations
led to the battle of Albuera, in itself not of supreme
importance, but perhaps the most desperately con-
' The figures I have above given are, of course, largely conjectural ;
but I have taken pains to make them as accurate as possible.

Badajoz 1 5 1
tested of the Peninsular War. The French Marshal
on the morning of the i6th of March, 181 1, flung his
left wing against Beresford's right and endeavoured
to seize an eminence which was the key of the whole
position ; the Spaniards occupied this part of the
line ; but though they made for a time a brave re
sistance, their ill-disciplined masses could not man
oeuvre ; when directed to make a change of front
in retreat, they lost all order, and fell into utter con
fusion. The French were now masters of the de
cisive point : Soult collected his reserves to make
victory certain, but Beresford called on his British
infantry, and this nobly restored the conflict, though
pressed by largely superior numbers. A disaster,
however, soon occurred which would have been fatal
to less stubborn and confident soldiers. Under the
cover of a tempest of rain which darkened the air, a
large body of French cavalry fell suddenly on the
rear of the footmen ; two regiments were well-nigh
cut to pieces. The heroic defenders still clung to
the ground ; Beresford had suflficient time to bring up
more reserves, especially a Portuguese contingent ;
the battle raged furiously for some hours, each side
fighting with unflinching courage, the murderous
British musketry making havoc of the dense hostile
columns. Fortune, nevertheless, seemed inclining to
Soult, and Beresford, it is said, was about to retreat,
when a final effort — the credit was mainly due to
Hardinge, then a young colonel, afterwards a great
chief in India — turned the balance in which victory
had been trembhng. A terrible onslaught of the
last British reserve was directed on the flank of the

152 Wellington
advancing French: a great column was hurled down
the height ; the Marshal gave up the fiery trial.' It
has been said, however, — and this was one of his
shortcomings in war, — that had he boldly fallen
on, on the following day, Beresford could not have
avoided a defeat.
Villars fought Malplaquet to relieve Mons ; Soult
fought Albuera to relieve Badajoz. Both generals
retreated after these battles ; both, therefore, virtu
ally confessed defeat, if in both instances victory
was all but doubtful ; indeed, Malplaquet was truly a
Pyrrhic victory. The carnage at Albuera was pro
digious, about one in four of the troops engaged, a
proportion to which very few parallels can be found.
Soult fell back a few marches on Llerena, seeking
an opportunity to strike again ; Wellington, hav
ing left Estremadura to fight Fuentes d'Onoro, re
turned to Badajoz in May and renewed the siege.
The place was invested between the 25th and the
29th ; the covering army was commanded by Hill ;
Wellington disposed of perhaps 43,000 men, but of
these not 28,000 were British soldiers ; the besieging
force was some 10,000 strong. I shall afterwards
briefly describe Badajoz, when it became the scene of

' Napier's description of this famous charge is well known. This
was Wellington's brief account of the battle : " The Spanish troops,
I understand, behaved admirably . . . but they were quite im
movable ; and this is the great cause of our losses. After they had
lost their position, . . . the British troops were the next and
they were brought up, and must always be brought up in these
cases : and they suffered accordingly . . . we should have
gained a complete victory if the Spaniards could have manoeuvred,
but unfortunately they c&niaot."— Selection, pp. 482-483.

Badajoz 153
oneof the most terrible conflicts of which history has
left a record ; enough here to say that the fortress rose
from the southern bank of the Guadiana ; was sur
rounded by a wall, with its bastions, and by external
works, and was defended by a garrison of some five
thousand men, under Philippon, a most skUful and
determined oflficer. The most vulnerable part of the
place was the ancient castle, near the river, and on
the north-eastern front ; but this was protected by the
fortified work of Christoval, which was held to be
the principal point for the attack. Fire opened on
the fortress on the 2nd of June, and was maintained
for three or four days ; but the siege guns of the
assailants brought up from Elvas were old and bad,
and without proper shot, — some of the guns were cast
in the reign of Philip II., — the trenching and other
tools were of inferior quality. Two breaches, how
ever, had been made in Christoval by the 6th, but
the garrison had retrenched these ; two daring as
saults were successfully repulsed. Meantime a most
formidable relieving force was being assembled to
save the beleaguered fortress. Marmont had broken
up from Salamanca, had crossed the Tagus, and was
on the march to join hands with Soult ; Soult, sup
ported by D'Erlon, was on the way from Llerena; a
great army would be before Badajoz in a few days.
Wellington raised the siege on the 12th of June;
the marshals had entered Badajoz on the 19th.
PhUippon and his brave garrison received the meed
of praise they deserved.
The British General now took a strong defensive
position on the Caya, a feeder of the Guadiana, about

1 54 Wellington
midway between Badajoz and Elvas, and made ready
to accept battle. Everything seemed to portend
a great trial of strength; Wellington had hardly
more than 42,000 men ; Marmont and Soult dis
posed of more than 60,000. The chances certainly
were on the side of the marshals ; but, as had
so often been the case before, the French com
manders disagreed with each other ; Marmont thor
oughly disliked and distrusted Soult,' and, besides,
the memory of a series of defeats hung heavily
on the minds of the French soldiery. The hostile
armies confronted each other for more than a fort
night ; the marshals drew off without firing a shot ;
but it does not follow, as French writers have urged,
that they must have gained a decisive victory. Mar
mont now fell back into the valley of the Tagus,
spreading his army over a vast space and connecting
it with Salamanca, his headquarters ; but he repaired
the bridge across the river at Almaraz, and fortified
this with skill and care, in order to keep up his com
munications with Soult. On his side, Soult, leaving
D'Erlon with a detachment not far from Badajoz, set
off for Andalusia to~ maintain his hold on the pro
vinces; he was occupied for some time with the Span
ish armies, which caused him a great deal of trouble
and loss ; he even stretched a hand towards Suchet in
the East. Wellington, therefore, was unmolested and
free to act ; he marched northwards with the mass of
his forces. Hill being left in Estremadura to observe
Marmont ; his object was, if possible, to capture

' See Marmont, Memoires, pp. 4, 46, 47.

Badajoz 1 5 5
Ciudad Rodrigo, taken by Massena the year before.
The fortress, he had been informed, was without
supplies ; he was deceived, however, by a false report.
He confined himself to a blockade of Ciudad ; he
placed his troops in cantonments in the adjoining
lands between the Agueda and the Coa; they were
suffering greatly from the fevers and the diseases of
the tract around the Guadiana. Things apparently
did not look well for the British chief ; Fuentes and
Albuera had cost him dear ; the siege of Badajoz had
been twice raised ; the hostile armies in Spain were
in great strength ; the Spanish and Portuguese gov
ernments had been crossing him in many ways ;
murmurs against his " inaction " were even heard in
England. Yet Wellington retained his steadfast
confidence ; he contemplated the situation with char
acteristic insight ; he was convinced, from the posi
tion of affairs before him, that he would not only be
able to defend Portugal, but could carry the war be
yond the frontier.'
By this time it had become impi'obable in the
• Wellington wrote thus to Dumouriez in July, 1811, when his
prospects did not appear bright: " Je crois que ni Buonaparte, ni le
monde, n'ont compte sur les difficultes a subjuguer la Peninsule,
etant oppose par une bonne armee en Portugal. It a fait des efforts
gigantesques, dignes de sa reputation, et des forces dont il a la dis
position; mais il n'en a pas fait assez encore; et je crois que I'ancien
dictum de Henri Quatre que ' quand on fait la guerre in Espagne
avec peu de monde on est battu, et avec beaucoup de monde, en
meurt de faim,' se trouvera verifie de nos jours; et que Buonaparte
ne pourra jamais nourrir, meme de la maniere Fran9aise moderne,
une armee assez grande pour faire la conquete des Royaumes de la
Peninsule, si les allies ont seulement une armee assez forte pour
arreter ses progres." — Selection, p. 501.

1 56 Wellington
extreme that Napoleon would appear in person in
Spain ; he was engrossed with his preparations for
the war with Russia. The French armies in the
Peninsula, though stUl maintained at their fuU
strength, would therefore sooner or later be more
or less diminished, they were disseminated, besides,
over a vast space ; for the present they were most
powerful in the south and the east of Spain. In these
circumstances Wellington believed that he might find
an opportunity to pounce on Ciudad Rodrigo and
Badajoz, the keys of the Spanish frontier to the
west ; this would give him a favourable position
to invade Leon and Castile, perhaps to strike the
enemy's communications between Bayonne and
Madrid. He had made arrangements to facilitate
an attack on both fortresses ; he had caused a good
road to be constructed, which opened a way into
Estremadura, and thus brought him within easy reach
of Badajoz, but Ciudad Rodrigo was his immediate
object ; he was quietly preparing to make this
siege. Taught probably by what had occurred at
Badajoz, he resolved that his guns should be eflfi
cient ; he directed a siege train, which had arrived
from England, to be sent from Lisbon, as if it
was meant for Cadiz ; and then with admirable
secrecy and skill he had had it landed at the mouth
of the Douro and transported to Celorico, not far
from Ciudad, where it remained concealed from the
enemy until the proper moment had come. But
in the meantime the British commander narrowly
escaped a reverse which might have been most dis
astrous. His army, not more than thirty thousand

Badajoz 157
strong, — many of his troops were distant and smitten
with disease, — was spread along the Agueda, on both
its banks, its leading divisions near Ciudad Rod
rigo, its rearward miles away, at a place called St.
Payo; he had no expectation that he could be
attacked in force. Dorsenne, however, in the north,
and Marmont along the Tagus, had learnt that
Ciudad was about to succumb to famine ; they
rapidly assembled some sixty thousand men, acting
well together, unlike most of their colleagues ; on
the 23rd of September, 1811, they had reached the
fortress and successfully introduced a great convoy
of supplies. Marmont, in supreme command, did
not think of fighting a battle, but he wished to
ascertain the positions of the enemy's forces. On
the 24th his troops, greatly superior in numbers,
attacked a single division of Wellington, standing
isolated on the heights of El Bodon. The attack
was repulsed, but the position was turned and lost;
Wellington drew his army together in retreat on
Guinaldo ; but he waited for hours for Crawford's
division ; fourteen thousand men were for a time
opposed to enemies who might have fallen on with
at least forty thousand ! " Wellington, your star,
too, is bright," Marmont bitterly exclaimed when
he heard of the grand opportunity he had let slip ;
but the Marshal's operations had been tentative and
weak.' Wellington was taken by surprise in this instance,
an accident that will sometimes happen in war ; he
' For Marmont's lame and impotent apology see Mimoires, iv.,
67-68,

158 Wellington
had not reckoned on the speedy j unction of Dorsenne
and Marmont. Meanwhile the French arms had
made remarkable progress in the theatre of the war,
in Spain in the east. Suchet, leaving forces be
hind in Aragon and Catalonia to maintain a hold on
the provinces he had so well governed, marched
against Tarragona, as he had been ordered ; he was
before the fortress in the first days of May, 1811,
with an army of about twenty-four thousand men.
The place was one of very great importance ; it was
a point of refuge for the Catalan rising, an arsenal
and a depot of supplies ; it had the support of a
British squadron and of a British flotilla, which could
assist the garrison if attacked. Its natural and arti
ficial strength was not doubtful ; it was divided into
a lower town and an upper town, each defended by
a bastioned enceinte ; it was unassailable on its sea
ward front, its northern and eastern points were cov
ered by Olivo, a fortified outwork, its western by a
deep stream, the Francoli ; it contained an army of
eighteen thousand Spaniards, always formidable when
fighting behind walls. The siege was protracted for
nearly two months, but French science and valour
at last triumphed. Olivo was first taken after a
stern resistance ; trenches were then opened beyond
the Francoli ; the lower town was next successfully
stormed ; the upper was carried by one of the most
desperate efforts that were made in the whole Penin
sular War; the besieged were not far from equal to
the besiegers in numbers. Tarragona vvas given up
to pillage, as was the unhappy custom of those days.
French writers, who have taken care to dwell on the

Badajoz 159
excesses of British troops in towns they had con
quered, must excuse us if we remark that in this in
stance, too, barbarity and licentiousness were not less
manifest. Suchet justly received the staff of a mar
shal for this brilliant exploit. After placing his army
in cantonments during the heats of summer, he
advanced in September into the lands of Valencia,
which Napoleon had marked down long before for
conquest. The Marshal, making his way along the
coast-line, was stopped before the walls of the ancient
Saguntum, famous for the stand it made against
Hannibal. Blake appeared with a considerable re
lieving force ; but he was completely defeated and
the place fell. The way into Valencia was now
open ; Suchet crossed the Guadalaviar, and by the
end of November had invested the capital of the
kingdom defended by Blake and a strong garrison.
The Marshal had not more than twenty thousand
men ; this force was not suflficient to take the fort
ress. Napoleon, hundreds of miles away from the
scene of events, saw in Valencia the decisive point to
be occupied at the existing moment. He directed
parts of the armies of the North and the Centre to
advance and to reinforce Suchet ; even Marmont was
to despatch two divisions from the valley of the Ta
gus to support his colleague. These orders were
obeyed more readily than was usually the case in
Spain; Valencia was surrounded by forces which
could not be withstood ; the place fell in January,
181 2, after a mere semblance of a siege; nearly
twenty thousand Spaniards were made prisoners of
war. This was a notable triumph for the invaders

i6o Wellington
of Spain ; but the French armies had been moved
from their positions to a considerable extent : Mar
mont's two divisions had overshot their mark, and
had actuaUy marched to Alicante, far south of Val
encia. This dislocation of the French armies gave
WeUington his opportunity to fall on Ciudad Rod
rigo, though Napoleon's dispositions were correct in
principle had they been carried out rapidly and with
intelligence ; possibly anticipating what the British
chief might attempt, the Emperor had directed Mar
mont to move from the valley of the Tagus into that
of the Douro, and thus to be nearer the threatened
fortress. Wellington before this time had struck a
weighty blow, of good omen for the operations at
hand ; Hill had annihUated one of D'Erlon's divisions
at a place called Arroyo Molinos, in Estremadura;
Girard, though a good soldier, had been suddenly
taken by surprise. The British chief, having brought
up his siege train to the spot, appeared before
Ciudad Rodrigo on the i2th of January, 1812;
he disposed of more than seventy thousand men ;
the garrison was not more than eighteen hundred,
and was commanded by an inexperienced oflficer;
there was no prospect of a relieving force ; this want
of anything like adequate means of defence appears
to have been mainly the fault of Dorsenne, at the
head of the Imperial army of the North. The siege
that followed may be briefly passed over, but in the

' Napier will not admit that Napoleon was in error in sending
so large a force to Suchet when before Valencia. Thiers and other
French writers take an opposite vicw. I do not think that the fall
of Ciudad Rodrigo can be largely attributed to this cause.

Badajoz 1 6 1
result it was of very great importance. Ciudad was
an old fortress upon the Agueda, surrounded by the
usual bastions and walls ; but it was protected by
two convents, which had been fortified, and by an
outwork on rising ground called the Teson. The
besiegers, who could spare almost any loss of men,
had soon taken this work and stormed the convents ;
they easily made two breaches in the walls, which
had been imperfectly repaired since Massena's siege ;
and though they encountered a brave resistance, the
place was assaulted by overwhelming numbers, and
fell after a defence of but ten days. The only point
in the siege that requires attention is that the Brit
ish engineers did not destroy the counterscarp, a mis
take that was soon to cost Wellington dear. In fact,
though the lines of Torres Vedras were a model of
art, the scientific arms in the British service had
been but little versed in the attack of strong places.'
The losses of the assailants at Ciudad were great,
not less than nearly one thousand men ; the brilliant
and daring Crawford was among the fallen. Mean
while Marmont, who had waited for his divisions in
the east, was on his way from the valley of the
Tagus to that of the Douro, but the fortress had
surrendered before he reached Salamanca. The ad
vance of the French Marshal had been slow ; but had
Ciudad Rodrigo possessed a suflficient garrison, it
might have held out for twenty days, and received
the support of a relieving army ; the speedy fall
of the place must be mainly ascribed to Dorsenne.
' Marlborough noticed this defect at the great siege of Lille in
1708. — Coxe, ii., p. 312.

1 6 2 Wellington
One of the keys of the Spanish frontier had thus
been taken. WeUington was properly rewarded
with an English earldom, and was made a duke in
the peerage of Spain.
A portentous change was now being made in the
military power of the invaders of the Peninsula.
The war with Alexander had become imminent. As
Wellington had foreseen. Napoleon was compelled
to make considerable drafts from his armies in Spain ;
they were erelong reduced by fully sixty thousand
men ; not more, probably, than two hundred thou
sand were actually present under arms to maintain
the contest. The balance of force, therefore, which
a few months before had seemed to preponderate so
enormously against the British Chief — and yet was
not so great as it appeared to be, if we bear in mind
all the circumstances of the case — had now been in a
great measure redressed ; even the Ministry in Eng
land — Lord Liverpool was soon to ht its head, and
Castlereagh was to return to oflfice — was looking for
ward hopefully to a successful issue. Wellington
now stretched his hand to seize the second key of
the frontier ; he resolved to lay siege to Badajoz for
the third time. Marmont, meanwhile, who after the
fall of Ciudad was the most exposed of the French
commanders, had done much to prepare himself
against attack — he disposed of about forty thousand
men ; he had hastily fortified Salamanca with skill ;
it is to his credit that he anticipated Wellington's
design ; he wrote to his master that he ought to be
strongly reinforced, and to have the command of a
great army, which would enable him to march to

Badajoz 163
the rehef of Badajoz. Napoleon, however, tartly re
plied that the defence of Badajoz was the affair of
Soult, who, he declared, had not less than eighty
thousand good soldiers ; should Wellington make
the suggested movement, Marmont was to fall on his
communications, and send him back into Portugal.
These views were, in principle, strategically correct,
but they were founded on assumptions completely
false, — the fatal results of directing war from a dis
tance. Soult had not at this moment fifty thousand
men around the eagles; he thought that D'Erlon
near Badajoz could hold any enemy in check ; he
was engrossed with the contest in Andalusia, with
the siege of Cadiz not yet abandoned, with projects
against British power in Portugal ; and though prob
ably he could have done more than he did, he could
hardly have accomplished what the Emperor ex
pected from him. Napoleon's directions, therefore,
were at odds with the facts ; and Marmont was not
in suflficient strength to strike Wellington's commu
nications with effect, and to turn that General aside
from his fixed purpose.
While Marmont had been protesting in vain, Wel
lington had steadily completed his preparations. He
remained in person near Ciudad as long as possible,
had the breaches repaired and the defences improved
in order to conceal his real purpose ; but he kept his
eyes bent on his intended quarry, Badajoz. He had
much of his siege train, and part of the material re
quired, brought up the Tagus to Abrantes from
Lisbon ; all this was carried through Alemtejo to El
vas ; the enemy was stiff uncertain whether he would

1 64 Wellington
attack the fortress. Meantime he broke up from the
Coa with the mass of his forces, marching along the
main road he had taken care to construct ; he ap
peared before Badajoz on the i6th of March, 1812,
at the head of more than 50,000 men, of whom
30,000 were his best British soldiers. The place was
invested on the following day, with a force perhaps
15,000 strong, which, however, could be largely aug
mented. HiU was in command of the covering army,
which extended on both sides of the fortress, on the
lookout for either Marmont or Soult. The garrison
was almost taken by surprise, but Phihppon had made
everything ready for a determined defence ; he nobly
proved himself equal to a most arduous task. He had
scoured the country around for supplies, and had
sent the poorer population out of Badajoz : he
had despatched many a messenger to Soult in the
hope of obtaining aid from the Marshal ; he had left
nothing undone to strengthen the place entrusted
to his care. He had connected Christoval with the
main fortress by a bridge and a bridge head on the
Guadiana; this outlying work could thus receive
support if required. He had increased the artillery
of the castle, and had flooded the approaches by
damming up a little stream, the Rivillas ; this pro
tected the weakest point, the north-eastern front.
He had also strengthened by different means the
forts of Picurina and Pardaleras and the outlying
work of St. Roque, external defences of the place ;
he had deepened the fosse around the enceinte and
spread inundations where this was possible ; and he
had laid mines along the western front, the garrison

Badajoz 165
being too weak to cover every point. But Philippon
had not suflficient munitions ; and he had hardly
more than 5000 men to oppose to an enemy in im
mensely superior numbers. D'Erlon who, we have
seen, had been detached to observe Badajoz would
have done well to support the garrison with part of
his troops ; but he fell back on the approach of Wel
lington, and took no part in the stirring events that
followed. Ground was broken on the i8th of March before
the Picurina and St. Roque, which protected the
eastern front of the fortress ; a tempest of shot was
rained on these outlying works, and on the bastions
of Santa Maria and Trinidad in their rear. A bold
sally of the garrison was repulsed with loss ; but guns
were brought to bear on the trenches from across
the river ; these raked them with destructive effect.
The fire of the Picurina had slackened by the 25th,
in fact, Philippon had to husband his powder; a
furious assault was made on the fort, but the re
sistance was not less fierce and resolute ; it was not
until half of the defenders had fallen that the assail
ants mastered their hard won prize ; and they were
unable to retain it under the guns of the fortress.
St. Roque still bravely maintained the struggle; but
the threatened bastions were now exposed ; yawn
ing breaches were by degrees made in Santa Maria
and Trinidad, and the adjoining curtains. The be
sieged, nevertheless, did not lose heart; they re
trenched the breaches and made a new line of
defence ; they maintained a heavy fire from the ram
parts ; cleared the fosse which the enemy did not

1 66 Wellington
command, and as the counterscarp had not been even
reached plied their dangerous task in comparative
safety. Things were in this state when WeUington
was informed that Soult was approaching with a re
lieving army ; he resolved not to be baflfled for the
third time and to risk everything in a general assault
on Badajoz, in which his immensely superior forces
might give him success. His dispositions for the
attack were made for the night of the 6th of April ;
a combined effort was to be attempted in all direc
tions ; the fortress was to be surrounded by a circle
of consuming fire. Picton's division was to escalade
the castle, forcing its way over the hindrances in its
path. The division of Leith was to make a feint
against the Pardaleras and to assault part of the
western front, which had been mined ; false attacks
were to be tried on other points ; the divisions of
Colville and that lately under Crawford, the flower
of the British infantry, were to storm the breaches,
whatever the cost. But Philippon had his prepara
tions made ; hard pressed and straitened as he was,
he was undismayed by enemies in overwhelming
numbers ; he called on his weakened garrison to hold
out to the last man ; he did everything that was po.s-
sible to the art of the engineer. He was not suflfi
ciently strong to defend all the points that could be
assailed ; he properly concentrated his main force to
cover the breaches ; he had here accumulated ex
traordinary means of resistance. Bodies of sharp
shooters, every man having three pieces were ranged
along the imperiUed ramparts ; a formidable stockade,
constructed with the most ingenious skill, was laid

Badajoz 167
along the front of the breaches ; the bottom of the
fosse was inundated and made a most grave obsta
cle; and a long line of what may b ecalled infernal
machines was placed at the foot of the counterscarp
which, I have said, had been left intact. '
Wellington spared the garrison the form of a sum
mons ; he knew what would be the indignant answer.
The night of the 6th was dark, but still ; it was a
calm before a storm raised by the fury of man ;
hardly a sound was heard in the trenches or along
the ramparts save the voice of the sentry saying that
all was well in Badajoz. Soon after ten the two di
visions charged to master the breaches, had reached
the glacis, and were close to the place ; bundles of
hay were thrown into the fosse to fill it ; the forlorn
hopes and the storming parties boldly fell on. The
columns of the assailants had soon rushed forward
"deep and broad, coming on hke streams of lava";
an appalling spectacle suddenly was seen. The ram
parts were lit up with the blaze of rockets ; the mus
ketry of the sharpshooters made frightful havoc ; the
train of the deadly engines laid along the counter
scarp, exploded, flinging out shells and other missiles ;
the inundated fosse swallowed up many victims;
hundreds of brave men perished before they at
tained the breaches, yet still the assaulting columns
' Wellington, after the result, complained bitterly of this: "1
trust that future armies will be equipped for sieges with the
people necessary to carry them on as they ought to be ; and that our
engineers will learn how to put their batteries on the crest of the
glacis, and to blow in the counterscarp, instead of placing them
where the wall can be seen, leaving the poor officers to get into
and cross the ditch as they can." — Selection, p. 594.

1 68 Wellington
pressed on, maddened, shattered, yet determined to
do or to die ; here they were met by fresh and ter
rific obstacles. The stockade along the breaches
proved impossible to break down ; it presented a
front of sword-blades fastened into beams, and of
planks studded with sharp points of iron ; the assail
ants dashed themselves against it in vain ; they were
crushed by the pressure of their comrades and rolled
down into the fosse below, while the rattle of the
musketry from the ramparts rang steadily out ; the
troubled air was rent with the sound of bursting pro-
jectUes ; the shouts and jeers of the garrison swelled
loud and high as the enemy was called on to " come
and take Badajoz," yet these desperate onslaughts
were repeated over and over again, and continued
for the space of two hours ; it was not until more
than two thousand men had been slain, the fosse
had been choked with the killed and the wounded,
and the breaches had become a frightful scene of
carnage, echoing with groans, execrations, and hor
rible sounds of passion, that a pause was made in
the appalling struggle. But victory meanwhile had
declared for Wellington at other points of the be
leaguered fortress. Picton's division had carried the
castle after a brave resistance, though it has been
said that the German troops who defended it hardly
did their duty. The feint on Pardaleras vvas not
pressed home ; but though there was a panic about
a mine which, proved, however, a false alarm, the
part of the western front that vvas attacked was
stormed ; in truth, the French were scarcely anywhere
in suflficient force. The victors now took the garrison

Badajoz 1 69
at the breaches in reverse and exacted a fearful and
bloody vengeance ; the assailants had soon swarmed
into the town. Philippon and his chief oflficers made
their escape into Christoval, but Badajoz was sur
rendered on the morning of the 7th of June. The
losses of Wellington from first to last had not been
less than 5000 men, out of an attacking force of some
18,000; the losses of the garrison were 1500; there
never has been a more fiercely contested siege. His
tory drops a veil on the hideous excesses that fol
lowed ; but in the case of towns taken under these
conditions this was the evil custom of war in that
age. The second key of the frontier had thus been taken,
enormous as had been the cost of success. Spain
now lay open to the attack of Wellington ; things had
changed since he clung to the lines before Lisbon.
Soult had meanwhile been approaching Badajoz
from Seville, but his advance had been tentative and
slow ; he appears to have had no communication with
D'Erlon ; when apprised by Philippon of the fall of
the fortress he retraced his steps, and was around
Llerena for a few days ; he ultimately made his way
into Andalusia. The Marshal's operations might
have been more bold, — this was Napoleon's distinct
judgment, — but he had not brought with him more
than twenty-five thousand men, a force not suflficient
to have compelled the raising of the siege ; he was
hampered, besides, by the fruitless attack on Cadiz
and by BaUasteros and a large Spanish army ; and
he was contemplating a great movement which, with
the support of Suchet, might force WeUington to

1 70 Wellington
retreat even to the Portuguese capital. The British
General seems for a moment to have wished to pursue
and attack Soult, and he would have been much su
perior in strength ; but he was recaUed northwards
by the operations of Marmont. That Marshal, com
plying with his master's orders, had faUen on the
communications of Wellington, had passed Ciudad
and Almeida, had reached Celorico, and had spread
consternation as far as Coimbra; but he had not
forced his adversary away from Badajoz, and before
long he was in retreat into Leon. WeUington now
placed his army between the Agueda and the Coa,
and made preparations for the invasion of Spain.
He disposed, including his reserve, of not far from
100,000 men ; he could place in his first line some
56,000, of whom 32,000 were British troops ; but his
24,000 Portuguese had been made excellent soldiers;
they were now known as " the fighting-cocks of the
army." This force was still much inferior to that of
the enemy as a whole ; but the French armies were at
immense distances ; their chiefs notoriously would
not act in concert ; their nominal head, Joseph, had
no real authority ; they were everywhere harassed
by the guerrillas and by Spanish armies, beaten in the
field, but never subdued ; Wellington had thus a
reasonable prospect of success, very different from
what had been the case in 1809. The British chief,
with characteristic insight, took careful precautions
before he advanced, to make the movement as secure
as was possible. He had left Hill in Estremadura
with some fifteen thousand men ; that able lieuten
ant had destroyed the bridge at Almaraz, and the

Salamanca 171
fortified works which had been made to protect it ;
he had thus severed the communications between
Marmont and Soult by the Tagus. Hill, too, had
repaired the great bridge at Alcantara, and this had
much facilitated his junction with his chief; these
two operations had been admirably designed. At
the same time Wellington urged the Ministers at
home to make frequent descents with squadrons on
the coast, in order to assist the guerrillas in the north
and to occupy the French army on the spot ; and he
earnestly entreated that the British force, which had
been expected from Sicily for some months, should
be landed on the seaboard of Catalonia, to hold
Suchet in check. This operation, he hoped, would
indirectly give him the support of about twenty
thousand men.
The only army immediately confronting Welling
ton was that of Marmont, which, when concentrated,
would be about forty-five thousand strong, but which
at this juncture was much scattered, chiefly between
Salamanca and the Douro. This army, the remnant
of that of Massena, had been reorganised by its new
commander ; it was for the most part composed of
excellent troops ; but there was a certain admixture of
new levies. The only armies that could be expected
to reinforce Marmont were that of the North under
Caffarelli, who had replaced Dorsenne, and that of
the Centre, of which the nominal head was Joseph ;
these could hardly be expected to send the Marshal
more than twenty thousand or twenty-five thousand
men. As for Suchet, he was bound to Valencia and
was looking out for a hostile descent from Sicily ;

172

Wellinsrton

A

Soult practically refused to leave Andalusia, or to
weaken his army in that province, though Joseph
had ordered him to send a detachment to Marmont,
nay, to evacuate Andalusia if necessary, orders
which, had they been obeyed at this time, might
have changed the fortunes of the campaign at hand.
Wellington was, therefore, not really overmatched ;
he broke up from his cantonments in the first days
of June and directed his movements on Salamanca,
where he was received as a deliverer by the exulting
citizens, like nearly all Spaniards, deadly enemies of
the French. Marmont, I have said, had fortified
Salamanca as well as he could, in order to make a
barrier against the invasion he dreaded, after the
loss of Almeida and Ciudad Rodrigo ; he had de
stroyed a number of religious houses and had cleared
the town of buildings, which might be of use to the
enemy ; but he had made three large convents strong
points of defence, and one of these, San Vincente,
was perched on a cliff overhanging the Tormes, an
aflfluent of the Douro, flowing by the place. Wel
lington was compelled to lay siege to the convents,
and this delayed him ten or twelve days ; San Vin
cente was not captured until the 27th of June. Dur
ing this time Marmont had approached the Tormes
at the head of some twenty-five thousand men, who
erelong were considerably reinforced ; the Marshal
sought an opportunity to strike, but he found that he
had been on a bootless errand. In a short time he
had retreated behind the Douro, spreading his army,
now assembled on a broad front, from Toro on the
Douro, beyond TordesiUas and thence further to the

Salamanca 1 73
Pisuerga, holding the bridge of TordesiUas upon the
Douro, which would enable him to cross over the
river. In this position he was safe, it may be said,
from attack ; he had drawn near Caffarelli and Joseph ;
he commanded a very fine army of men of one race.
But he sent messages to Caffarelli and Joseph very
properly seeking assistance from both ; and both — a
fact that deserves special notice — had held out hopes
of support, if in very ambiguous language.
In this position of affairs the obvious course for
Marmont would have been to remain behind the
Douro, and to await the reinforcements that might
be on the way ; the Marshal knew that Wellington
was at hand, and that Wellington had a superiority
of force. But though Marmont was a brilliant sol
dier, an excellent tactician in the field, and possessed
of no ordinary organising skill, he was a somewhat
vain and presumptuous man ; the intelligent French
soldiery had little trust in him; a phrase was current
in their camps " Marmont fights, but fights to be
beaten." The Marshal resolved to leave his point
of vantage, and to try a game of manoeuvres with the
British chief, which might perhaps compel his adver
sary to retreat, perhaps offer a chance ofa successful
battle. On the 15th and i6th of July he made a
feint with his right and began to cross the Douro at
Toro ; this movement had the effect of turning Wel
lington's left ; that General had his army at Canizal
near a feeder of the main river. A trial of strength in
this position would have been dangerous in the ex
treme ; both armies would have stood on what tac
tically is called a front to a flank, that is, would have

1 74 Wellington
fought on a line not covering their communications
and means of retreat ; Marmont had no intention of
running such a risk. He countermarched, therefore,
rapidly to his left, crossed the Douro at TordesiUas
and another point ; and advanced to the upper
Guarena, the feeder before mentioned ; his object
now being to turn WeUington's right. A series of
briUiant movements followed ; both armies marched
in parallel lines, over an open country, each watch
ing an opportunity which did not come ; but the
French distinctly outmarched their enemy ; Mar
mont, continually pressing Wellington's right,
reached the Tormes and crossed the river at fords
which Wellington believed were guarded by a Span
ish garrison in forts. The British commander, out
manoeuvred and outflanked, chiefly owing to the
celerity of the French movements, now fell back and
took a position on the heights covering Salamanca
to the south; he reached this ground on the 2ist
of July. The situation had become critical for him ;
for his- line of retreat to Ciudad Rodrigo was not
firmly held, nay, was already in some degree men
aced, and should he abandon Salamanca he would
give up a prize to Marmont. The Marshal was fully
alive to the advantage he had won ; he advanced to
a village called Calvarossa, the mass of his army,
however, being somewhat in the rear; his purpose
was to threaten his adversary's communications with
Ciudad ; to fall on them if a good chance offered,
perhaps to fight if there was a real prospect of suc
cess. On the 22nd of July Marmont continued his
movement ; he began to press on Wellington's line

Salamanca i75
at least to approach it within a near distance ; one
of his divisions seized a hill called the Great Ara-
peiles, near an opposite height of the same name,
which was occupied by a part of the allied army.
But the Marshal's forces were not completely in
hand ; there was a small interval of space between
his centre and his left, though this was hardly of
importance as yet, and his troops were rather en
tangled in the woodland that spread along the ground
he held.
Had Marmont at this moment kept to the vantage-
ground he had won, and drawn together his some
vvhat scattered troops, he could have compelled
Wellington to leave Salamanca, and to seek his line
of retreat on Ciudad Rodrigo ; he might even have
harassed the retiring columns. But he continued to
edge nearer and nearer to his adversary's right,
whether to chaUenge him to a battle is still uncertain ;
his left, under Thomiferes, gradually extending itself
increased the gap that separated it from the rather
ill-formed centre, and became isolated at a distance
from its supports. This false movement was in
stantly perceived by Wellington, — his exclamation,
"Mon cher Alava, Marmont est perdu" is well
known; he seized the occasion as became a master
of tactics, whose dispositions on the field have been
seldom equalled. He directed the leaders of his
centre, which was well in hand, to fall in full force
on this part of the enemy's line ; at the same time
he ordered his brother-in-law, Pakenham, to attack
Thomieres's exposed wing, to overwhelm it, and to se
cure victory. The effect of these perfectly conceived

1 76 Wellington
strokes was extraordinary, sudden, and complete.
The men of the allied centre rushed down from
the Arapeiles where they stood, sweeping away
the enemies who tried to arrest their onslaught ;
" disregarding the storm of bullets discharged by the
French artillery, which seemed to shear away the
whole surface of the earth. " Erelong Pakenham
had rolled up Thomieres's divisions in spite of a
brave and stern resistance. The French were almost
surrounded, and utterly routed ; a fine charge of
cavalry scattered them into a horde of fugitives.
Marmont from the Great Arapeiles beheld the disas
trous scene ; he sent messenger after messenger
to try to restore the battle ; but his efforts would
have been fruitless in any event, and he was struck
down by a cannon-shot at a critical moment. The
result of the day was now not really doubtful ; but
justice should be done to a very able and skilful
man, who still made a desperate attempt to bid for
victory. Clausel, a young general of the highest
promise, contrived to rally and strengthen the broken
French centre ; he even ventured on a bold counter-
stroke, "the result went nigh to shake the whole
battle. " But victory, under these conditions, be
longs to the commander who has the last fresh re
serve ; this was launched by WeUington against the
enemy ; " the aUied host, righting itself like a gallant
ship after a sudden gust, bore onward again in blood
and gloom," and drove the French army in defeat
from the field. Nevertheless Clausel admirably cov
ered the retreat ; with his colleagues he often stemmed
the advancing tide of his foes ; but had not the fords

Salamanca 'i.'Jl
on the Tormes been left open, against Wellington's
positive orders, the beaten host must have been all
but destroyed.'
Besides eleven guns and two eagles, the French
lost at Salamanca 6000 men killed and wounded,
7000 prisoners were moreover taken, not more than
20,000 men held together for some days ; the victory,
in a word, was complete and decisive. The loss of
the Allies was upwards of 5000 men, for the defeated
army made a fine defence ; but WeUington was
master of the situation for a time. Clausel conducted
his retreat with conspicuous skill ; his rearward divi
sions were once or twice smitten, but he made nearly
forty miles in! less than twenty hours ; he rightly di
rected his movement on Aravelo, not on TordesiUas
as the British General thought would be the case ;
he wished to draw near Madrid and King Joseph.
The pursuit of Wellington, as was his wont, was
slow ; in fact, as the historian of the Peninsular War
has written, " the vigorous following of a beaten
enemy was never a prominent characteristic of the
British chief""; but Wellington did his young

' Wellington' has thus briefly described the main features of the
battle of Salamanca : " Marmont ought to have given me a pont d'or
and he would have made a handsome operation of it. But instead of
that, after manoeuvring all the morning in the usual French style,
nobody knew for what object, he at last pressed before my right in
such n manner, at the same time without engaging, that he would
have either carried our Arapeiles, or he would have confined us entirely
to our position. This was not to be endured, and we fell upon him,
turning his left flank, and I never saw an army receive such a beat
ing." — Selection, p. 615.
^ Napier, Peninsular War, iii., 67; edition published by Routledge.

1 78 Wellington
opponent justice; he has expressed high admiration of
the operations of Clausel. Marmont from his couch
of pain must have felt bitter anguish at the inteUi
gence that soon reached his successor ; Caffarelli
sent a reinforcement to the defeated army ; Joseph
had actually marched out of Madrid at the head of
more than fourteen thousand men in order to sup
port Marmont upon the Douro. The King might
have joined Clausel at Aravelo, and thus made a
good stand against Wellington ; but he was appalled
by the result of the late battle ; he fell back behind
the Guadarrama and returned to his capital. The
allied army continued to dog Clausel's footsteps ;
but the French commander made good his way to
Burgos, where, though he had been wounded at
Salamanca, he rallied and reorganised his army with
indefatigable care. Leaving a considerable detach
ment to observe Clausel, Wellington now turned
against Joseph, but his movements once more were
not rapid ; the King was given time to fly from Mad
rid, with his mock Court and a train of many thou
sand followers. The British General entered the
capital of Spain on the 12th of August, 181 2 ; he was
greeted with enthusiastic acclaim ; the moral results
of his appearance were no doubt immense. But it
has truly been remarked that he might have done
more than he did had he been a chief of the type
of Turenne or Napoleon. It was probably in his
power, had he struck quickly home, to have annihil
ated Clausel and his shattered forces ; and he ought
to have been able to have caught and routed Joseph
before the fugitive had made his escape from Madrid

Salamanca 1 7g
But strategy, in its grandest aspects, was never one
of the strong points of Wellington ; this is manifest
in several passages of his career.
Wellington was raised a step in the British Peer
age for Salamanca, and was made commander-in-
chief of the Spanish armies, honours nobly deserved
and justly won. He remained in Madrid a few
days only ; he seems rather to have offended jealous
Spanish pride ; his stay was chiefly remarkable for
the exasperation shown by the citizens to the hand
ful of politicians who had adhered to Joseph. Ere
long Clausel had again appeared in the field, having
rallied his army with characteristic resource ; he was
in command of some 30,000 men ; he threatened
the detachment left behind to hold him in check ;
this was from 15,000 to 18,000 strong. WeUington
broke up from Madrid on the Ist of September;
with his Portuguese, he had perhaps 35,000 men, for
his army had suffered much from disease ; he was
ultimately joined by some 11,000 Spaniards. The
Allies had a great superiority of force, when the
isolated detachment had come into line; the British
General endeavoured to bring Clausel to bay ; but his
enemy retarded his advance with consummate skill,
defending position after position not without suc
cess' : he finally made good his way to Burgos, whence
he effected his junction with the French army of the
North. Wellington was before Burgos on the 8th
and 9th of September, he was on the line of the
' Wellington gave this honourable testimony to Clausel : " He
held every position till turned and then drew off in splendid order,''
— Sir H. Maxwell, History, i., 290,

1 80 Wellington
communications of the French with Madrid ; he
may have believed that he could easily reduce the
place and then strike a blow with effect, but his real
purpose has hardly been made known. He had sate
down before Burgos by the loth, but his calculations
were wholly frustrated ; the siege is a very remark
able instance of what the value of a weak fortress
may be in war ; how it may bafifle an enemy, nay,
bring him into grave danger. Burgos was an ancient
fortification of little strength ; but it was protected
by entrenchments within the wall ; it was cov
ered on the northern front by a homwork ; it had
a very able commandant, Dubreton, and a brave
garrison of some 2000 men. The homwork was
stormed on the 19th, but Wellington had no siege
artillery ; his guns were comparatively few and weak ;
he had to resort to mines to destroy the defences.
Four assaults were made against narrow breaches;
Dubreton and his men still clung to the entrench
ments they had admirably held. But meanwhile
a formidable tempest of war had been gathering
against the British commander. Massena had been
sent to the southern borders of France ; but the
veteran refused to take the field ; Clausel had been
disabled by a festering wound ; Souham, rather an
elderly man, was placed at the head of Marmont's late
army, which had been reinforced to 40,000 men by
the addition of a levy of conscripts. Caffarelli, too,
was at hand with 10,000 or 12,000 men ; their united
forces were much superior to those of WeUington,
in the quality of the troops, nay, perhaps in numbers.
The British General raised the siege on the 21st of

Burgos i8i
October; he had lost fully 2000 men; he had cer
tainly delayed too long around the fortress.
While Wellington had been laying siege to Burgos,
great events had occurred in other parts of Spain.
Joseph had reached Valencia on the ist of Sep
tember, and with his motley following had been well
received by Suchet, who — created by Napoleon
Dukp of Albufera — had, as usual, governed his
province well, and had even been able to collect its
revenue. The Marshal, however, had to provide
against the expedition which had disembarked from
Sicily, and which, though of less force than had been
expected, was nevertheless suflficient to keep him on
the spot. Joseph sent peremptory orders to Soult to
quit Andalusia and to join the Army of the Centre
with his own. Soult obeyed, but with a bad grace,
after despatching a protest to the Emperor, which
did not improve his relations with the King.
The Marshal, I have said, had for some time been
projecting operations which in his opinion would
compel Wellington to return into Portugal ; he aimed
at making Andalusia a great military base ; whence
being reinforced to large extent, he might be able to
turn the Lines, and to advance on Lisbon. Even
after Salamanca he insisted that this was the true
strategic course ; the Army of the Centre should
unite with his own ; this would give a new, perhaps
a fortunate turn to the war ; Andalusia in any event,
should not be abandoned. But he was forced to
forego these ambitious hopes, and to evacuate the
province which he had occupied to little purpose,
and which the invaders ought never to have entered

1 82 Wellington

?>•

whUe WeUington had his army in Portugal. Soult,
of course, withdrew from Cadiz, besieged in vain for
months, the forces which the siege had greatly re
duced ; he gathered his outlying detachments to
gether; he set off for Seville with a heavy heart,
carrying away the spoil of a devastated land.'
He was harassed by BaUasteros and a Spanish
army, while his lieutenant, D'Erlon, was pursued by
HiU, but he reached the borders of Murcia in Sep
tember, and was in Valencia by the first days of
October, not far from the historic field of Almanza.
His junction vvith the King had now been effected ;
the united French armies, not reckoning that of
Suchet, were not far from 60,000 strong ; it was
agreed, after some hot discussion, to march to and re
gain the Spanish capital, which Wellington, it was
known, had left. Joseph re-entered Madrid on the 2nd
day of November; Hill, who after pursuing D'Erlon,
had held a position on the upper Tagus, with a com
posite army of some 25,000 men, having retreated
through the Guadarrama to join his chief. Wel
lington, by this time falling back from Burgos, was
now gravely threatened by two armies, that of Sou-
ham and that of Joseph and Soult ; each of these
was probably a match for his own, if for the present
they were far apart; such had been the result of
' Soult had taken away with him a number of important pic
tures, among others the magnificent Dona di Gloria of Murillo,
and placed these in his mansion in Paris. Many years after
wards the Marshal showed the collection to Lord Cowley, nephew
of Wellington, and remarked that "no doubt the Duke had a
gallery of the same kind." The reply was excellent: "Non, M.
le Marechal ; il vous a suivi."

VISCOUNT ROV/LAND HILL.
CFrom tlie painting by H. W PickersgiU, R.A.)

Burgos 183
maintaining a fruitless siege. French writers, who
have contended that in this position of affairs, the
British General, like Napoleon in the campaign of
Italy, could have fallen on and defeated his divided
enemies, appear to be altogether in error.
During these events Wellington in retreat from
Burgos was followed by Souham with some 40,000
men, Caffarelli having gone back with the Army of
the North. The operations of Souham were cautious;
some engagements of no importance took place ; but
the British soldiery, as so often has been the case,
wheri falling back a long distance before an enemy,
began to show symptoms of insubordination and
want of discipline. Meanwhile Joseph had marched
out of Madrid in order to effect his junction with
Souham, — a rapid and well-conceived movement ;
he was accompanied by Soult and his Chief- of -
Staff Jourdan ; the combined armies, about 90,000
strong, were on the upper Douro by the Sth of
November, advancing in full pursuit of Wellington.
The British chief had crossed the Douro some days
before ; he was joined by Hill, on the Tormes, on
the 7th of November ; he had reached the scenes of
his late victory ; he was now at the head of more
than 60,000 men, a number, however, of these being
Spanish levies. Wellington placed himself on a very
extended line, from Alva, on the upper Tormes, on
his right to Calvarossa occupied by Marmont on the
2 1st of July, and thence to a point called San Chris
toval on his left ; the distance was nearly fifteen
miles. He was ready, it has been said, to accept
battle, to restore, as had been the case at Busaco,

1 84 Wellington
the confidence of an army that had been shaken ; but
this appears to be, at the very least, uncertain. On
the 14th of November the enemy had crossed the
Tormes, and was even menacing Wellington's line
of retreat ; an important council of war was held ;
Jourdan's voice was for fighting a great battle, at
least for attacking Hill, who was drawing back from
Alba; the odds would certainly have been largely in
favour of the French. But the memory of Sala
manca disturbed Soult, seldom ready to seize the
occasion and to strike home ; he insisted that an at
tempt should be made to outflank Wellington, and
to cut him off from Ciudad Rodrigo, in his retreat,
very much as had been the object of Marmont before ;
Joseph yielded to counsels that were perhaps unfor
tunate. The movement of the French was circuitous
and slow ; it has been compared to the hovering of a
wily kite ; Wellington, skilfully drawing his army
together, reached Ciudad Rodrigo hardly 'molested.
He had lost in the retreat nearly nine thousand men ;
he vented his displeasure in an address to his troops,
severely condemning their conduct since they had
left Burgos. Many soldiers, even oflficers, had be
haved ill ; but this indiscriminate censure was hardly
deserved; it was characteristic of a stern and ob
durate nature which deemed military licence an
unpardonable crime.
To superficial observers the retreat from Burgos
seemed to mark a turn in the tide of the war against
Wellington. He had, after entering the capital of
Spain in triumph, and striking the line of the com
munications of the French, been compelled to fall

Bttrgos 185
back an immense distance ; on the Tormes he had
been exposed to no doubtful peril ; his army had
been partly demoralised and much weakened ; he
had been forced back almost to the Portuguese fron
tier. And his strategy after Salamanca does not
commend itself to an impartial student of the mili
tary art. He ought not to have allowed the defeated
army of Marmont to recover itself, and become
formidable again, in order merely to appear in Mad
rid ; this was sacrificing the primary to the sec
ondary end. He might, perhaps, at this juncture
have routed Joseph ; he ought not to have delayed
before Burgos for weeks, and to have risked the issue
of the campaign for an insignificant object.
These mistakes, and certainly they were mistakes,
enabled the French armies, scattered over Spain, to
gather against him in greatly superior strength ; they
obliged him to make a dangerous retrograde move
ment ; he ought to have been defeated near Sala
manca but for the hesitations of Soult. But if we
examine the operations of Wellington as a whole,
from Fuentes d'Onoro to the close of 1812, they bear
witness to his great and characteristic merit in war.
He was, no doubt, taken by surprise at El Boden ; it
was fortunate when he stood on the Caya that Mar
mont and Soult would not agree to attack him. But
when, in the summer of 1811, the position of affairs
seemed of evil omen, he maintained his undaunted
and wise confidence ; in the dissemination of the hos
tile armies, in the disputes of their chiefs, in the
preparations of the contest with Russia, he beheld the
hopeful promise of final success. He made admirable

1 86 Wellington
arrangements for two great sieges; he seized the
occasion with energy and skill ; he captured Ciu
dad Rodrigo and Badajoz under the beard, so to
speak, of the enemy. When the keys of Spain had
thus passed into his hands, he conducted the inva
sion that followed with fine judgment, at least at
first ; and though he was outmanoeuvred by Mar
mont, his tactics at Salamanca were a masterpiece in
the field. And the results of his achievements had
been very great ; he had, with forces sometimes
much inferior in strength, destroyed the renown and
confidence of the French armies ; he had made the
invaders leave Andalusia, never to return ; he had
practically upset the tottering throne of Joseph.
The catastrophe which befell Napoleon in the north,
and which shook his power on the Continent to its
base, was to open a new career to Wellington in
Spain ; he was erelong to overwhelm the enemies in
his path, to strike them down in a decisive battle,
and to carry the war into France itself, while the per
ishing Empire was crashing down in ruins.

CHAPTER VII
VITORIA
The invasion of Russia in 1812 — The Retreat from Moscow — Great
rising in Prussia after the disasters of the French — The Czar
continues the war — Efforts of Napoleon to restore his military
power — Lutzen and Bautzen — Negotiations — Policy of Metter
nich — The armistice of Pleisnitz — ^Events in Spain largely influ
ence the conduct of the Allies — Position of the French armies
after the retreat frbm Burgos — They are considerably reduced
— Directions of Napoleon for the Campaign of 1813 in Spain —
They reach Joseph late and are imperfectly carried out — Dis
semination of the French armies — Wellington disposes of a great
military force — His plan forthe Campaign of 1813 — He turns
the position of the French on the Esla and the Douro — Joseph
is surprised and compelled to fall back — Confused and ill-man
aged retreat of the French armies from Valladolid to Vitoria —
Battle of Vitoria — Complete defeat of Joseph — Immense results
of the victory.
AFTER Salamanca and the conquest of Mad-
drid, the retreat from Burgos caused much
discontent irt England ; murmurs were loudly
heard that the Peninsular War could never come to
an end. The nation, too, had been engaged in a
contest with the United States, which markedly in
jured its renown on the seas, unchallenged since
the great day of Trafalgar ; the Continental System
187

1 88 Wellington
had continued to produce its disastrous effects,
in bankruptcies, disorders, and the depreciation
of a paper currency. These events, however,
important as they were, were thrown into the
shade by the awful catastrophe of the French in
vasion of Russia in 1812. Napoleon had steadily
carried out the policy, in military as well as in
civil affairs, of striking down the great Power of
the North, to which he had for months turned his
mighty energies. Concealing the movement by all
kinds of feints, he had drawn together the armed
strength of the West, supported by enormous re
serves, to assail and subdue the Czar in the East ; he
had directed this from the Rhine and the Danube to
the Vistula; in the spring of 1812 it was ready to
march to the Niemen, drawing with it a huge ma
terial of war ; the world had never yet beheld such a
display of a conqueror's power. Austria and Prus
sia, with secret reluctance, but with apparent con
sent, had furnished contingents to the gigantic host ;
France, Germany, and Italy had sent their youth to
join in the great crusade. The Emperor left Paris in
proud confidence, disregarding the entreaties of more
than one wise counsellor; the alarm, nay, the dis
affection showing itself from the Seine to the Rhine,
and the Spanish ulcer, malignant and growing. At
Dresden the Continent bowed before its lord; kings,
princes, and potentates lavished their homage ; flat
tery described the enterprise as a triumphal march
for the summer. Four hundred thousand men,
sustained by two hundred thousand in the rear,
crossed the Niemen in the la.st days of June; but

Vitoria 1 89
this immense host was composed of many races and
tongues; the forces of Austria and Prussia, foes at
heart, formed the extremes of the wings. The ad
vance of the Grand Army — a time-honoured name —
was impeded by many and grave obstacles, and its
losses were great from the first moment ; but Napo
leon's earlier operations were admirably designed,
and for some weeks were of the highest promise.
The main army of Alexander was placed in im
minent danger, owing to the unwise advice of a
pedantic theorist ; and though his secondary army
made its escape, chiefly through the neglect of
the young King of Westphalia, both were com
pelled, widely divided as yet, to retreat. Napoleon
pursued, but the pursuit was checked by the im
pediments inherent to such an enterprise ; Barclay
and Bagration ultimately combined their forces ; a
bloody battle was fought at Smolensk, the portal, as
its name was, of old Muscovy ; the two Russian
commanders, imitating Wellington at last, fell back
over an immense space, destroying the means of
subsistence in a devastated and poor country. The
Emperor advanced from Smolensk with the best
part of his forces, about 160,000 strong, throwing
out, however, powerful armies on both sides of the
line of his march, in order to secure his communica
tions and his flanks ; Barclay and Bagration were re
placed by Kutusoff; the terrible conflict at Borodino
foUowed, not decisive, but one of appaUing carnage;
the Russian army continued its retreat. Napoleon
entered Moscow on the 14th of September — the ex
treme Hmit of the march of the Tricolour; he had

1 90 Wellington
lost fully fifty thousand men since he had broken up
from Smolensk.
The conflagration of Moscow, whatever the cause,
might have warned the Emperor that with his di
minished forces he was isolated in the midst of a still
unconquered country, and was already in a position
that might become most critical. But Napoleon
cherished the hope that the Czar would treat ; he
was deceived by his wily foe, Kutusoff ; he. lingered
five weeks in the ruin of the half-effaced city ; boast
ing that a march on St. Petersburg was within his
power ; ignorant of what was in the womb of the
immediate future. On the 19th of October the
memorable retreat began ; it is not probable that
had Moscow remained intact it could have been
used as quarter for the invaders through the winter,
" whence they would have emerged like a ship from
the ice of the North." The Emperor's intention was
to make his way to Kalouga and to establish himself
in a country unravaged and with a milder climate ;
but he was repulsed by his adversary at Malo laro-
slavetz. The Grand Army, laden with the spoils of
Moscow, and already, too, like an undisciplined
horde, though still perhaps ninety thousand strong,
was forced to retreat through the devastated region
in which it had advanced. Things looked compara
tively well for a few days ; but an Arctic winter,
with its ice and its snows, fell suddenly on the rapidly
dwindling host ; supplies were not to be found on
the wasted line of march ; the Russians, though
timidly, hung on the enemy's ffanks; when Smo
lensk was reached some forty thousand starving

Vitoria 191
fugitives, demoralised, and breaking even frbm their
chief, were all that remained of the legions which
had proved at Borodino what they were. Napoleon
had hoped to find a safe haven at Smolensk ; but
two large hostile armies, bearing back the lieuten
ants, who were to make the advance on Moscow
secure, were menacing his rear on either side ; it had
become necessary to continue the appalling retreat.
The army, only slightly restored — the soldiery had
recklessly pillaged the magazines — abandoned Smo
lensk between the 14th and the i6th of November,
but it had separated into somewhat distant masses,
perhaps in order to procure food ; Kutusoff, who had
become bolder, attacked it with effect ; Ney, who
covered the retreat with wonderful courage and
energy, was nearly cut off, and with diflficulty made
his escape. The scenes on the march from Smolensk
were even more terrible than those which had been
witnessed before ; the army was quickly reduced to
less than twenty-five thousand men ; as it drew near
the Beresina the Emperor learned that his retreat
was barred by the two armies, which had been con
verging to close on his rear. Napoleon had not been
equal to himself since he had left Moscow; but two
of his marshals had joined him at this crisis, with rein
forcements of considerable strength ; he effected the
passage of the river with considerable skill, losing,
however, many thousands of disbanded men ; he
carried across perhaps 40,000 troops who held to
gether. He left the wrecks of his army at Smor-
gone, conduct of at least a questionable kind, and
gave the command to Murat, a bad choice ; the

192 Wellington
retreat went on as before to Wilna ; but it was in
vain that additions were made to the perishing host ;
Murat lost his head and had only one idea, flight.
About the middle of December some 20,000 spec
tres crossed the Niemen in little knots and bands ;
these were the remains of the 400,000 men who had
formed the first line of the Grand Army ; and the
reserve of 200,000 had cruelly suffered. The catas
trophe was like that which befell the Assyrian tyrant ;
it is doubtful if 80,000 of the 600,000 men were ever
seen under the eagles again.
This unparalleled disaster was quickly to prove
how precarious was the structure of Napoleon's Em
pire. Schwartzenberg, the leader of the Austrian
contingent, had allowed one of the hostile armies
that had reached the Beresina to pass ; he had soon
brought back his forces, almost unscathed, to the
Vistula. York, a general of fhe Prussian contingent,
abandoned Macdonald with his soldiers to a man ;
he was welcomed as a hero by the whole Prussian
nation. Germany, from the Niemen to the Elbe,
rose up in patriotic passion ; the King of Prussia,
hesitating and alarmed for a time, was swept into a
mighty movement to avenge the humiliations and
the wrongs of years ; Alexander, against Kutusoff's
entreaties, crossed the Vistula and proclaimed him
self the deliverer of an enthralled continent. The
survivors of the Grand Army, perhaps forty thousand
strong, and now under the command of Eugene
Beauharnais, were borne back by the universal rising
to the Elbe ; they were islanded in a flood of enemies
on all sides ; the French garrisons shut up in the

Vitoria 193
Prussian fortresses were the only other signs of the
domination of France in that kingdom. The Em
peror, however, though wrathful and troubled at the
sight of a catastrophe surpassing his worst fears, and
disturbed by the position of affairs at home, had no
thought even of negotiating with his foes ; he was
only intent on finding resources to continue the war.
He had expected when he had left his army, to
have two hundred thousand men on the Niemen;
he had now not more than a fifth part of that force
on the Elbe. His throne, too, had been menaced
by an obscure plotter, whose efforts, though fruitless,
had startled Paris ; and it had been remarked that
Paris had no real faith in his dynasty. Yet at this
crisis he appealed, and with prodigious effect, to
the pride and the martial spirit of France, bent on
maintaining the supremacy on the Continent which
she still possessed. Napoleon's efforts were gigantic,
and his marvellous power of organisation was dis
played to the utmost ; buthe was earnestly seconded
by the will of a united people, as strongly expressed
perhaps as in 1792-93. Discontent and murmuring
for the present ceased ; the Emperor called out the
conscripts of 1813 and even of 1814; the French
youth gathered in thousands around the eagles. At
the same time he restored the artillery he had lost ;
he worked hard to form again a mighty force of
cavalry ; he recalled the best of his oflficers and
troops from Spain to strengthen and improve the
newly raised levies. In less than three months he
had 200,000 men in hne ; and these were ultimately
increased to more than 500,000. But though an

194 Wellington
extraordinary creation of genius and power, the new
Grand Army was very different from that which had
crossed the Niemen the year before, so far as this
was composed of French elements. Its infantry was
largely a multitude of boys ; its cavalry was compar
atively scanty and raw; its artillery, if imposing, was
ill-organised ; it was in every sense a very imperfect
instrument of war.
Napoleon took the field in the end of April, 1813 ;
he was soon joined by the troops of Eugene Beau
harnais, the remains of the immense host that had
been assembled to invade Russia. The united Prus
sian and Russian armies had meanwhile advanced
into the plains of Saxony, in order to encourage the
mighty rising already stirring nearly all Germany;
this was a dangerous movement in a military sense ;
it exposed them to their great enemy when far from
their base. The hostile forces encountered each other
on the historic field of Lutzen ; the French levies
fought with the valour of the race ; the Allies were
compelled to retreat. Napoleon now entered Dres
den in triumph, though his want of cavalry had
made his late success fruitless ; another and a much
greater battle took place at Bautzen, on the verge of
Bohemia, along the heads of the Spree ; it was inde
cisive, but his enemies were again worsted. Things
now looked badly for the cause of the Allies ; had the
Emperor boldly followed up his victory he might
have put down the German movement for a time,
nay, have stood out again the lord of the Continent.
But events were to take an extraordinary turn ; the
great believer in the power of the sword was to

Vitoria 195
try to make assurance doubly sure, and to find
his calculations completely baflfled ; the way was to
be prepared for his ultimate overthrow. Napoleon
seems to have been convinced for some months that
his marriage had made Austria a firm ally, to be
reckoned upon in any case ; when he felt himself
strong enough to enter the lists in Germany he invited
Austria to join him in attacking Prussia, and offered
her the tempting bribe of Silesia, torn from her by
Frederick the Great half a century before. The af
fairs of Austria were now in the hands of the far-
sighted and calm-minded Metternich ; in the state of
things created by the events of 1812 he saw a pros
pect of restoring, to some extent, the power his coun
try had lost in a series of wars, and of relieving Ger
many, too, from the unnatural supremacy of France.
He therefore eluded the offer of the bribe ; and gradu
ally with consummate skill, he assumed the attitude
of a mediator between the belligerent powers, while he
made military preparations to carry out his policy,
and to throw the sword of his master into the bal
ance. His sympathies certainly were with the Allies,
and probably he foresaw that Austria would be drawn
into a conflict with Napoleon in the long run ; but it
is fair to add that the peace he wished 'to establish
would have left Napoleon by far the chief part of his
Empire. The conduct of Metternich, dictated by
profound statecraft, and savouring, no doubt, in some
degree, of guile, exasperated, nay, incensed Napoleon;
he resolved to avenge himself on Austria for what
he called her gross breach of faith ; he even offered
to treat with the C^ar, in order to turn his arms

196 Wellington
against her. The Allies, however, held together;
Metternich inclined more and more to their side ;
Napoleon, suspecting part at least of the truth,
determined to defy even their united forces, and
to contend, if necessary, against embattled Europe.
To accomplish this it was essential to increase his
military power ; he believed that he would gain more
by time than any coalition could ; he signed an ar
mistice at Pleisnitz in June, 1813 ; this has been
called the greatest mistake of his life. Nevertheless
his position was so commanding that all was hesita
tion and doubt for some weeks ; Metternich and no
tably his master were slow in making up their minds.
Events in the distant theatre of the war in Spain did
much to decide their halting purpose ; I pass on to
direct attention to them.
The situation in the Peninsula appeared to be not
hopeless for the invaders after the retreat from Bur
gos. Salamanca had been a terrible defeat; the
flight from Madrid had been a disaster for Joseph ;
Andalusia had been permanently lost. But WeUing
ton had been forced back to the verge of Portugal ;
and though his resources for war were being largely
increased, he had narrowly escaped very grave dan
gers. The French armies, at the close of 1812, were
extended upon an immense front, from Valencia,
on the south-east, to the Biscayan seaboard ; they
still numbered much more than two hundred and
fifty thousand men on paper. But Napoleon, after
the late catastrophe, was obliged, we have seen,
greatly to reduce these forces when he was reorgan
ising the shattered power of France ; he drew nearly

Vitoria 1 97
30,000 men from Spain ; these, with their oflficers,
were the flower of his troops in that kingdom. In
the military operations of 1813 the French were prob
ably not more than 180,000 strong, perhaps not
150,000 in arms around the eagles. This force, as
before, was divided into five armies, that of Suchet,
in Valencia and the provinces in the east ; that of
the north, under the command of Clausel, pro
tecting the communications between Madrid and
Bayonne ; that of the Centre, now in the hands
of D'Erlon, spread for the most part around the
capital ; that of Soult, who had been replaced by
Gazan — the Marshal had been recalled from Spain
— disseminated in the valley of the upper Tagus,
and, finally, that of Marmont, still called the Army
of Portugal, on the Tormes and in the valley of
the upper Douro, with Reille, a capable oflficer, at
its head. The first four armies, however, were be
set by enemies in almost every direction, and it was
a weighty task for the Army of Portugal to match
Wellington on the borders of Leon. The expedition
from Sicily kept Suchet near the coast ; Aragon and
Catalonia swarmed with guerrillas. The rising in the
north, conducted by Mina and other skilful chiefs,
had become more formidable than ever since the
attack on Burgos ; it resembled, it was said, the war
in La Vendue ; Clausel was not suflficiently strong to
put it down anywhere. As for the army of D'Erlon
and that of Gazan, they were threatened by two or
three Spanish armies, not powerful indeed, but stUl
a danger, and requiring to be held in check and ob
served. For the moment, however, the invaders

1 9§ Wellington,
were in comparative safety, at least until Wellington
should appear, in force, on the scene.
In this position of affairs. Napoleon gave his di
rections for the operations of the French armies
in Spain, as usual, at a great distance, that is, from
Paris. His real policy at this conjuncture was to
endeavour to treat with England, and to restore Fer
dinand to his ancestral throne, taking, however, the
provinces north of the Ebro as an indemnity for
France, and perhaps offering Ferdinand the crown
of Portugal in exchange. With these objects in
view it was of supreme importance to him to have a
powerful force in Biscay, Navarre, and the adjoining
lands, and to keep his communications with France
secure ; he did not wish to leave Joseph at Madrid ;
he was at heart ready to abandon nearly all Spain,
could Wellington be held in check on the Portuguese
frontier. The Emperor accordingly, in the first
days of 1813, ordered that a great change should at
once be made in the positions of the invaders in
Spain, Suchet alone being left as before in the east.
Joseph was to assemble the Army of the Centre
around Valladolid, on the line of the communications
with France ; he was to have only a few thousand
men in the capital. The chief part of the Army of
Portugal was to fall back from the country it now
occupied, and to join hands with the army of
Clausel ; these united forces were to crush the insur
rection in the north ; should this be accomplished
speedily, as was to be expected, Reille ought to
have time enough to return to the upper Douro.
Simultaneously the army of Gazan was to march

Vitoria 199
from the upper Tagus to the upper Douro, and
to hold WeUington back on that line ; it was to main
tain an offensive attitude, especially if reinforced
by the Army of Portugal.' These directions were
right enough in principle, in order to give effect to
Napoleon's views ; but issued as they were far from
the theatre of the war, they reached Joseph several
weeks late, and when they reached him they were
very ill obeyed. The King moved to Valladolid,
but too slowly ; he left half of the Army of the
Centre behind at Segovia ; he placed a whole divi
sion of Gazan's army in Madrid : evidently he could
not endure the thought of quitting the capital. At
the same time more than three-fourths of the Army
of Portugal were detached to the assistance of Clausel;
a mere fraction only remained on the upper Douro,
Reille and Clausel were kept employed for weeks in
coping with the insurrection in the north ; and even
in this they were far from successful. As for the
army of Gazan, it reached the upper Douro, but in
greatly diminished force ; and it had hardly any sup
port from the remnants of the Army of Portugal.
When the season for military operations had come
the French armies, scattered and largely directed
northwards, were thus dangerously exposed in the
highest degree, should they be attacked by Welling
ton in force from the western verge of Leon.
The British commander, during these events, had
been maturing his deep-laid designs ; after the ruin
that had befallen the French in Russia, and the

' For Napoleon's instructions, see Corr., pp. 433-491, and especially
pp. 506-507.

200 Wellington
faulty disposition of their armies in Spain, he had
good hopes of decisive success in the campaign at
hand. The national mind of England had been
profoundly stirred by the catastrophe of 1812 and
the German rising ; the fall of Napoleon seemed im
minent ; the men of the militia flocked to the army
in thousands ; Parliament was eager to do anything
to further the contest in Spain. As commander-in-
chief, too, of the Spanish armies Wellington had ob
tained additional elements of military strength ; he
had repaired to Cadiz to meet the Cortes ; that
Assembly had pledged itself to second his efforts.
In the spring of 18 13 he disposed of considerably
more than 200,000 men ; half of this force was com
posed of Spanish troops, for the most part in the
eastern provinces ; the other half comprised his Brit
ish and Portuguese army, from 70,000 to 80,000 fight
ing men, in the highest state of efificiency for war,
and besides some 30,000 Spaniards, better soldiers
than most of the levies of their race. Wellington
had more than 100,000 men in his hands ; he had
left nothing undone to make them ready to take
the field and to march rapidly over long distances ;
and he had the support of the bands of the omnipre
sent guerrillas, of British squadrons commanding the
northern seaboard, and of the Sicilian expedition on
the coast at the east. He was now distinctly su
perior to the enemy in force ; the plan of his in
tended operations was grand yet simple. He would
fall on the French armies in his front, which certainly
would not be as strong as his own ; he would turn
their positions upon the Douro ; he would force

LORD LYNEDOCH.
(After the painting by Sir Thomas Lawrence.)

Vitoria 201
them to retreat before they could unite ; he would
threaten their communications, perhaps seize them,
continually outflanking them on his left, and having,
if possible, brought them to bay, he would, if success
ful, drive them across the Pyrenees. This fine con
ception was thoroughly carried out, if one or two
shortcomings perhaps appear ; the possession of the
northern seaboard, of which he was assured, would
obviously facilitate the great outflanking move
ment. Wellington had his preparations made in the last
days of April ; his operations had begun by the
middle of May. He marched with some 90,000
men ; his left wing, about 40,000 strong, under
Graham, a lieutenant, who had distinguished him
self at Salamanca and on other fields, had advanced
through the diflficult country of the Trasos Montes;
his task was to cross the Esla, in the first instance,
and to join the main army on the upper Douro.
Wellington's centre and right wing numbered some
50,000 men ; his object was to effect the passage of
the upper Douro, turning the defences of the French
on the river, and attacking the enemy should he re
sist ; the British chief, besides, disposed of a motley
force of guerrillas and of Spanish troops and levies,
perhaps 20,000 or 30,000 strong, whioh, moving along
the northern coast, was to co-operate, if required,
in the outflanking movement. WeUington left his
headquarters in the third week of May ; " Farewell,
Portugal," it is said he exclaimed, so confident was
he of decisive success in Spain. By the 26th of May
he was at Salamanca with his centre ; Hill, with the

202 Wellington
right wing, was at Alba, upon the Tormes ; a French
division fell back after a mere show of resistance;
the chief part of the army was thus approaching the
Douro. But Graham, at the head of the left wing,
had been delayed by accidents ; he was not over the
Esla until the ist of June ; Wellington had been
compelled to pause for some days, and had even
thought it necessary to see Graham. Such are the
diflficulties of widely divided movements, as a rule
not to be commended in war, but perfectly to be
justified in the present instance. The British com
mander crossed the Douro on the 3rd of June ; had
Graham joined him, as had been arranged, in the last
days of May, the weak forces of the French upon
the Douro would have been completely surprised
and in part destroyed, nay, Joseph might have been
involved in an immense disaster. ' But the success
already obtained had been great, the line of the
upper Douro had been seized ; the positions which
the enemy held on the river, and which had been
fortified at different points, had been turned or forced
almost without a shot being fired ; the detachment
of the Army of Portugal and the army of Gazan,
weakened as it had been, had no choice but to retreat
before greatly superior forces ; writers seem to be in
error who have maintained that the French could
have made a stand on the Douro. Wellington made
a halt at Toro on the river for two days ; we per
haps see here again his characteristic slowness in
making the most of probable success ; he might, it
' Napier is emphatic on this point. 'Ss^t, History of the Peninsular
War, iii., 194, Routledge Edition.

Vitoria 20^
has been said, have come up with and routed the
enemy.' His army, however, had marched a great
distance, and it was necessary to have it weU
in hand; it has been justly remarked that "it was
prudent to gather weU to a head first, and the
general combinations had been so profoundly made
that the evU day for the French was only de
ferred." ""
Meanwhile Joseph, possibly given a brief respite
had been endeavouring to retrieve his mistakes, and
to concentrate his forces around Valladolid. The
division left at Madrid rejoined the army of Gazan ;
the Army of the Centre was assembled at Valladolid ;
the Army of Portugal, partly reinforced, fell back in
order to draw near its supports. In the first days of
June the three armies were around VaUadolid, or
near that city ; the army of Gazan beyond Tor
desiUas ; the Army of the Centre at Valladolid;
the Army of Portugal, that is, only a part of it,
between Medina Rio Seco and Palencia north
wards. Joseph had now more than 50,000 men in
hand ; but the greater part of the Army of Portugal
and the whole army of Clausel were far away in the
north ; in fact, Clausel had reached Pampeluna and
the coast, making efforts to crush the guerrilla rising ;
from 40,000 to 50,000 men were thus at a great dis
tance from the main army ; Wellington was ap
proaching in irresistible force ; Joseph is not to be
blamed for deciding to retreat. But here two capital
mistakes were made, most discreditable to Jourdan,
^ Napier, History of the Peninsular War, iii., 194.
« Ibid.

204 Wellington
the chief of Joseph's staff, who at this conjuncture
showed a want of capacity unworthy of the former vic
tor of Fleurus. The impedimenta of the French were
enormous: siege guns, the material of the garrison of
Madrid, all that belonged to a fugitive but once
brilliant Court, and hundreds of non-combatant men
and women ; these incumbrances should at once have
been sent forward ; they were allowed to follow in
the track of the retiring army. Again, there were
numerous positions on the line of march, for the most
part at the heads of the Douro, which could have
been made excellent points of defence ; it was of su
preme importance to occupy these and to retard the
advance of the enemy as much as possible, especially
as time would thus be afforded to the largest part of
the Army of Portugal and to the forces under Clausel
to join Joseph ; a real general could certainly have
taken advantage of these, perhaps even have found
an opportunity to strike with effect. But no opera
tions of this kind were thought of; the only idea was
to fall back on Burgos, on the line of the communi
cations with France ; this was pusillanimous, nay,
contemptible strategy.
The French armies, now forming a united mass,
reached Burgos on the 9th and the loth of June;
Joseph had sent messages to Clausel and Reille to
come into line with him as quickly as possible ; this
was apparently all that occupied the troubled mind
of the King. Wellington pursued, but rather cau
tiously, as was his wont ; he had expected that the
enemy would make a stand on the Carrion and the
Pisuerga, aflfluents of the upper Douro ; he had pre-

Vitoria 205
pared himself for a trial of strength. But no use was
made of these and other positions ; slight demonstra
tions of resistance vvere, indeed, attempted ; but these
were fruitless displays and came to nothing. Reille
and a part of the Army of Portugal had now joined
the King ; but a part was still at a distance under
Foy, and Clausel was only advancing through Na
varre; from 25,000 to 30,000 men were thus still far
away from the principal army. Joseph evacuated
Burgos on the 13th, but he was now at the head of
more than 60,000 good troops elated by the news of
Lutzen and Bautzen ; it is pitiable to reflect that he
simply continued to retreat, dragging with him an
immense and dangerous burden, and not venturing
to defend a single point of vantage. The King, too,
and Jourdan marched in a wrong direction : they fol
lowed the main line of the communications between
Madrid and Bayonne ; this exposed them to attack
from Wellington's left, and especially to the great
outflanking movement which formed part of his origi
nal design and which might be extended even from
the coast. And, at this crisis, a real commander
might possibly have baflfled the British General, cer
tainly have secured a large reinforcement to the re
treating army. Clausel was reaching Logrono, on
Joseph's right ; he commanded about fifteen thou
sand men ; there was nothing to prevent the King
marching to join him ; and perhaps Foy, too, might
have been brought into line. But the French leaders
pursued their untoward course, passively clinging to
their communications and making their way along
the main roads to the heads of the Ebro. This was

2o6 Wellington
playing into the hands of WeUington ; continuing
steadily the outflanking movement, and pressing the
enemy's right as he fell back, he rapidly swung round
his left wing, and advancing with the mass of his
army, he forced his adversaries into Vitoria and the
adjoining country where, being not far from the foot
of the Pyrenees, it was impossible for them to avoid
battle. This grand movement had been seconded
by movements from the seaboard, on which the
British General had always reckoned.
By the evening of the 19th of June the three
bodies of which the King's army was composed
were assembled around Vitoria and the adjoining
lands; they were huddled together in ill-united
masses, disordered after the discreditable retreat.
The town rises from a small plain encompassed by
hills, which afford favourable positions for defence,
the Zadorra, a feeder of the Ebro, runs before its
front ; the main road to Bayonne and another
road to Pampeluna, through the Pyrenees, formed
avenues for retreat. The French army was about
sixty thousand strong, and as Clausel and Foy were
near at hand Joseph might accept a battle with
some chances of success, — at least might make the
British General pay dear for a victory. But the
miserable arrangements which from first to last were
made by the French commanders in this campaign
were continued up to the latest moment. The ac
cumulation of impedimenta which, in the event of a
reverse, would entangle and encumber a retiring
army, were coUected, for the most part, in and
near Vitoria ; a fraction only was sent forward and

Vitoria 207
away ; and this required an escort of two thousand
or three thousand men, to this extent weakening
the principal force. It was imperative to summon
Clausel and Foy to the field, and possibly they
might have accomplished this had the orders been
transmitted by armed bodies of men ; but the
task was committed to guides and peasants, who
ought never to have been entrusted with such a mis
sion. Above all it was, of course, essential to recon
noitre the ground and to place the army upon good
positions ; the whole of the 20th might have been
employed for this purpose, but nothing of the kind
was done or even attempted. No doubt Jourdan
was ill and could not mount a horse ; but there were
excellent oflficers in the French army ; that they
neglected this duty it is to be greatly feared was due
to their characteristic disputes and jealousies. As
the result, the morning of the 21st of June found
the French army dispersed and scattered, in a word,
unprepared to encounter a well-directed attack.
The right wing, about half of the Army of Portugal,
under Reille, was, so to speak, in the air ; it was be
yond the Zadorra and held two of its bridges. The
centre and left, led by D'Erlon and Gazan, were at
a distance of six or seven miles from Reille, and
were separated by the Zadorra from that General;
and of the seven bridges on the river, not one vvas
broken, a mistake exceedingly diflficult to explain.
The position of the French army, in fact, was such
that defeat at one point would lead to defeat in
all. Joseph and his chief of the staff had hoped that they

2o8 Wellington
would be given the 2 ist of June to place their army
in a position to fight, and to get ready for the battle
now manifestly at hand. They reckoned, however,
without their host ; Wellington was upon them on
the morning of that day, a day of disgrace for the
French commanders-in-chief, but not for their brave,
if unfortunate, troops. The British General disposed
of some 80,000 men, 20,000 of these perhaps being,
however, Spaniards ; little more than 60,000 were
actually engaged. The French must have been
57,000 or 58,000 strong, all good soldiers of a single
race ; had they been directed with ordinary fore
thought and care, they might possibly have kept Wel
lington at bay, certainly have rallied Clausel and Foy
and made good their retreat. But everything went
wrong with them on this fatal occasion : what ought
to have been at least a hard-fought battle ended in a
complete and shameful disaster. The attack began
by a movement of the Spaniards against the French
left; the assailants fell on their enemy advancing
through the defiles of Puebla, but Gazan success
fully maintained his ground, though he is said to
have been wanting in energy and resource. Ere
long, however. Hill, crossing the Zadorra on intact
bridges, came to the aid of the Spaniards with a con
siderable force, and gradually bore back the divi
sions of Gazan ; and Wellington, in command of the
British centre, having also easily got over the river,
attacked D'Erlon with largely superior numbers.
The two French generals endeavoured to make a
stand on an eminence, which gave them a point of
vantage, but they were slowly driven back towards

Vitoria 209
Vitoria, though their troops fought with the most
determined courage. Reille, meanwhile, had been
fiercely assailed by Graham ; but he defended his
position with resolution and skill ; the bridges he
held were taken and retaken ; the fight raged long
and furiously, without any marked effect. But the
defeat of Gazan and D'Erlon compelled Reille to
retreat ; he was necessarily involved in the fate of
his colleagues, and, isolated as he was, was exposed
to a crushing disaster ; he drew his brave soldiers
across the Zadorra, and kept the road to Pampeluna
open, a movement that may have saved the French
army from complete destruction. The Army of
Portugal and its chief retrieved the honour of France
on this calamitous day.
While Reille had been playing this distinguished
part, the rest of the French army was being forced
back through the passes leading into the plain of
Vitoria. The defence was for a time stubborn ;
positions were held to the last moment ; clouds of
skirmishers were thrown out to cover the retreat ;
the fire of the artillery was well sustained and in
tense. But Gazan and D'Erlon were overmatched ;
nothing could withstand the irresistible British on
set ; Wellington advanced upon a ffood tide of vic
tory. The last stand was made on heights in front
of Vitoria ; these were carried after a brave resist
ance ; the allied troops had soon taken possession of
the town, driving before them enemies now com
pletely beaten. A terrible spectacle then was seen,
a warning to military chiefs who neglect their duty.
The immense incumbrances of the defeated army

2 1 o Wellington
spread all round ; guns, trains, material of war of
every kind retarded the flight of the disordered
masses ; the French were meshed, so to speak, in
toils of their own making. Panic fell on the host
already breaking up ; the terrified artillerymen aban
doned their pieces, the infantry and cavalry, mingled
together, sped onwards in precipitate rout. The
spoil taken by the victors was prodigious ; out of
one hundred and fifty guns the French carried off
but two ; the treasure-chest of Joseph and the plun
der of a devastated kingdom were speedily captured.
Jourdan lost his staff, and the King his papers.
Vitoria and the surrounding plain was covered with
swarms of non-combatants, fine ladies and gentle
men, camp-followers, and a multitude of the de
graded of their sex. The great road to Bayonne
had been seized by Wellington ; Joseph, with the
remains of his army, was very fortunate in escaping
along the road to Pampeluna, from whence he got
through the Pyrenees passes. Meanwhile, Foy and
Clausel had not joined the King, and for some time
were in the gravest danger. Foy, however, suc
ceeded in crossing the frontier ; Clausel was nearly
caught by the enemy in pursuit, but ultimately made
good his way into France through the pass of Jaca,
having thought of marching on Saragossa and rally
ing Suchet. The French armies, which a few weeks
before had been assembled around Madrid, and which,
had they been rationally led, would have tasked
WeUington's powers to the utmost, had been driven
out of Spain in dishonourable rout. Of Vitoria, in
deed, Napier has truly written : " Never was an army

Vitoria 211
more hardly used by a commander, and never was a
victory more complete." '
Napoleon was not unnaturally incensed at the ruin
which had befallen his arms in Spain, and at the fla
grant misconduct which had led to Vitoria. " It is
time to have done with imbeciles," he angrily wrote ;
he deprived Joseph of his command, and made him a
prisoner in aU but the name ; he sent off Soult, "the
only mUitary head in Spain," to try to repair disas
ters beyond remedy. The Peninsula had now been
set free from its French invaders, except where
Suchet was isolated in the east, and a few garrisons
held fortresses on the verge of the Pyrenees. The
mighty efforts which the Emperor had made to
achieve what he thought would be an easy conquest
had failed after a struggle of five years ; the armies
which had entered Lisbon, Madrid, and Seville had
been defeated and at last disgraced ; Salamanca and
Vitoria had followed Baylen ; the power of the Em
pire had been sapped and its renown marred ; the
Peninsula had been well-nigh as fatal as Russia.
This succession of reverses had been partly due to
the energy of the ubiquitous Spanish rising, even to
the efforts of the Spanish armies in the field ; it was
largely due to the faulty operations of the French,
and to the jealousy and the disputes of their chiefs,
nay, to the mistakes made by Napoleon himself, in
attempting to direct war from a distance, conduct cer
tain to lead to defeat and disaster, which strategic
genius can in no sense justify. But beyond question
a principal cause had been the capacity and the
^ History of the Peninsular War, iii., 206, Routledge Edition,

2 1 2 Wellington
profound insight of the British commander, who had
from the first seen how the invaders of the Peninsula
could be withstood with success, and had marked the
vulnerable heel of the Imperial Achilles; who, un
dismayed by the colossal forces of the Lord of the
Continent, had resolutely stood on the verge of Por
tugal, and had stemmed the torrent of French con
quest ; who had gradually formed an invincible
army, composed though it was of different races ;
who in military and tivil affairs had shown the great
est wisdom ; who with admirable perseverance and
skill had defeated his adversaries over and over
again; and who, finally, had in a magnificent passage
of war driven an army hardly inferior in real strength
to his own from the frontier of Portugal across the
Pyrenees. Turning to the special events of 1813 in
Spain, their most striking feature is the weakness
and want of judgment seen in the conduct of the
leaders of the French army ; we are here reminded
of the Soubises and Cleymonts of the Seven Years'
War. No doubt Napoleon may have been in fault
in his direction of the Army of Portugal, in the first
instance, though this is by no means certain ; but
this cannot excuse the miserable retreat to Vitoria,
and the enormous mistakes made before the battle.
Yet these considerations do not in the slightest de
gree lessen the admiration that is justly due to the
grand plan of operations formed by Wellington, and
carried out to the end with complete success. If
once or twice he possibly might have done more, if he
was characteristically cautious rather than daring, the
preparations he made for the campaign, his march to

Vitoria 2 1 3
the Esla and the Douro, and the movements by
which he forced his enemy to fight at Vitoria, and
struck him down in a decisive battle, rank high
among the fine operations of war.
Vitoria and the expulsion of the invaders from
Spain confirmed the Allies in a purpose stUl not per
haps fixed ; the weight of Wellington in the balance
of Fortune was great. The interview between Napo
leon and Metternich, in which the terms of Austria
were treated with scorn, had been held before the in
telligence had arrived of the ruin in the Peninsula of
the Emperor's power ; but Austria had soon openly
thrown in her lot with Prussia and the Czar ; the Co
alition thenceforward had probably resolved on war ;
it would hardly have made the peace which had been
offered before. The Congress of Prague was a mere
phantom. The Allies made preparations on a gigan
tic scale ; they had nearly 700,000 men under arms ;
the League was more formidable than any which
France had encountered from the days of Louis
XIV. to the existing time. The vassals, too, of the
Confederation of the Rhine, though they sent their
contingents to their still-dreaded lord, knew that
their own subjects were rising against him ; new
and strange enemies were crossing Napoleon's path :
Moreau and Bernadotte had appeared in the allied
camp ; Murat, infirm of purpose, was thinking, per
haps, of treason. And not only the material, but
the moral forces, which tell with such potent effect in
war, were being thrown into the scale against France
and the Emperor. The resolve of great races, held
down but not subdued, to throw off the detested

214 Wellington
yoke of a conqueror, the intense desire to avenge the
wrongs of years, now stirring all the Teutonic peo
ples, sustained the cause of the League in Europe.
On the opposite side was a great military genius,
indeed, and the pride and the energy of a famous na
tion, but of a nation tired of despotic rule and well
nigh exhausted. The ultimate result of such a con
flict could be hardly doubtful ; but Napoleon cared
little for these things ; he had greatly increased and
strengthened his immature army ; he was at the head
of half a million of men ; he held the fortresses of
Germany from the Rhine to the Vistula. Astride on
the Elbe from the Bohemian hills to Hamburg, as
in former years he had been astride on the Adige,
he was confident that he could defy his enemies. A
gleam of victory was to shine on his arms ; but the
contest of 1813 was to end at Leipzig.

CHAPTER VIII
FROM THE PYRENEES TO THE GARONNE
Wellington made a Field Marshal and Duque di Vitoria — Soult reor
ganises the French army — Battles of the Pyrenees — Siege of
San Sebastian — Fall of the place— The Campaign of 1813 in
Germany — Complete defeat of Napoleon at Leipzig — The French
armies driven across the Rhine — Wellington crosses the Bidas
soa — Soult fortifies his lines on the Nivelle — The lines forced —
Soult had previously called on Suchet to support him— Soult at
Bayonne — His formidable position — Wellington crosses the Nive
— Danger of this operation — The allied army divided on the
river — Soult concentrates his forces and attacks it — Indecisive
battles of the loth and 13th of December — Hostilities in the
field resumed in February, 18 14 —Difficulties of Soult and Wel
lington — Wellington attacks Soult — Passage of the Adour —
Battle of Orthes — Retreat of Soult to Toulouse — Rising against
Napoleon at Bordeaux — Pursuit of Wellington — Fall of Napo
leon—Battle of Toulouse — End of the War.
FOR his triumph at Vitoria WeUington re
ceived the staff of a Field Marshal of Eng
land, an honour that had been in abeyance
for nearly half a century. The Spanish Govern
ment, too, made him Duque di Vitoria; the re
nown of his achievements had become so great
that it was seriously proposed to place him at the
head of the allied armies about to contend with
215

2 1 6 Wellington
Napoleon on the Elbe. He had driven Joseph in
rout out of Spain ; it has been said that he might
have crossed the Pyrenees and destroyed the shat
tered wrecks of the French armies before they could
be ready again to appear in the field. This view,
however, is no doubt erroneous, even if, as a rule, he
was slow in following up success. The allied army
had lost more than 5000 men at Vitoria ; in fact, the
loss of the enemy in kUled and wounded had not
been much greater ; and the country swarmed with
thousands of disbanded troops, gorged with the plun
der strewn over the scene of the battle, and rioting in
all kinds of excess. Wellington complained of this
conduct in indignant language, exaggerated, perhaps,
as after the retreat from Burgos ' ; but time was re
quired to restore discipline ; the army was hardly
able to move. Besides, he could not, at this junc
ture, have loosed his hold on Spain and begun what
would have been a premature invasion of France.
The fortress of San Sebastian on the coast, where the
frontiers of France and Spain approach each other
from the west, was still held by a French garrison ;
it was absolutely necessary to reduce this before the
Bidassoa, the river on the border, could be passed.
The fortress, too, of Pampeluna, in Navarre, was stUl
in the hands of the enemy ; it was connected with
' Selection, p. 706 : "I am quite convinced that we have now
out of our ranks double the amount of our loss in battle, and that we
have lost more men in the pursuit than the enemy have. . . . This
is the consequence of the state of discipline of the British Army."
Wellington doubtless was too severe; but a British army has perhaps
always shown a tendency to get out of hand, whether in victory or
in defeat.

%-. i#> t/JT '•. ¦^'' / f *¦* 1

From the Pyrenees to the Garonne 217
San Sebastian by a main road along the Spanish
verge of the Pyrenees ; this could not be left as a
menace on Wellington's flank, should he attempt
to force the Pyrenean barrier. But the principal ob
stacle to the suggested movement was the presence
of Suchet in the eastern provinces of Spain, dispos
ing of a well-organised and still powerful army. The
Marshal, no doubt, had been held in check by the
expedition which had landed from Sicily and by
the guerrillas in Aragon and Catalonia ; but Murray,
the oflficer who had faUed on the Douro, had been
forced to raise the siege of Tarragona, and was un
able to leave the line of the coast ; his operations had
been of little use to the British arms. At this very
time Suchet might, not improbably, have marched
on Saragossa, nay, have attacked Wellington ' ; in
any case, as long as he remained in the east of Spain
he gravely threatened Wellington's right flank and
rear. This circumstance alone forbade a march across
the Pyrenees ; the British General clearly perceived
this, and continued to fear what Suchet might do,
though the Marshal, in the events that followed,
never ventured to make an offensive movement.
Meantime, Soult, invested with plenary powers, —
"Lieutenant-General of the Emperor" was his im
posing title, — had been reorganising and restoring
the French armies, which had fled through the Pyr
enees after Vitoria. He had been joined by Clausel
and Foy ; he had obtained a small reinforcement of

' Napier disliked Suchet, for he would not co-operate with Napier's
friend, Soult. But the historian is right, here. — History of the Pen-
insular War, iii., 230.

2i8 Wellington
conscripts ; he had replaced from Bayonne the artil
lery lost in the battle ; he disposed erelong of nearly
78,000 men ; he had united his forces into a single
army under three subordinates, D'Erlon, Reille, and
Clausel. In about a month he was ready to take the
field ; he was to engage in a protracted contest with
Wellington, of which the issue was long doubtful,
and in which, though he was at last worsted, he gave
proof of no ordinary powers. A few words must be
said as regards this eminent soldier. Soult had a
true eye to the great combinations of war ; as a
strategist he was 'far-seeing and profound ; without
the inspiration of Napoleon, he was one of the best
of the master's disciples. He had also much te
nacity and firmness of purpose ; he could stubbornly
play to the last a losing game in war ; he could pre
pare and array an army with remarkable skill. But
he did not possess the divine gift of genius ; as a
tactician in battle he does not rank high ; as a com
mander we see two distinct faults in him : in action
he was often backward and remiss ; he was apt to fail
in carrying out effectively well-conceived designs.
Napoleon and Wellington concurred in their estimate
of Soult : " he was excellent in council," the Em
peror said, "but in execution feeble"'; "he knew
how to place his troops in the field," was his adver
sary's remark, " but he did not know how to make
the best use of them." The career of the Marshal in
Spain had not been brilliant ; it had been marked by
his characteristic faults ; but he had distinguished
himself on many fields of fame ; his struggle with
' Gourgaud, ii. , 424.

SIR QEORQE MURRAY.
CAfter the painting by H. W. PickersgiU.;)

From the Pyrenees to the Garonne 2 1 9
Wellington was to add to his renown as a warrior,
though he had not the tactical genius of the British
commander, nor yet his admirable insight and readi
ness in the actual shock of battle. It must, how
ever, be said, in justice to Soult, that his antagonist
was usually superior in force, and commanded an
army excelling in every quahty that makes a truly
formidable instrument of war. The British soldiery
— and the Portuguese were now nearly their equals —
always terrible in a trial of strength for their murder
ous fire and their undaunted steadiness — this was
the reason that the column could not stand before
the line — had by this time got rid of most of the en
cumbrances of the past ; they were not inferior to
their foes in manceuvring skill ' ; they had a great
leader and excellent lesser chiefs ; above all, a series
of victories had given them that moral power, worth,
it has been truly said, " three times more than mere
physical force." " The Peninsular army," in Wel
lington's language, " could now go anywhere and do
anything"; for its size it was unquestionably the
best of European armies. The Ftench soldiery, on
the other hand, if brave as their race, and with its
aptitude for war, were depressed by the memories of
incessant defeats ; they were at heart afraid of their
enemies, and spellbound by them ; they could still
fight well, but seldom could make a resolute stand ;
they had become to a certain extent demoralised,
and this was especially the case with their oflficers.

' " L'armee anglais -portugaise," Napoleon has remarked (Com.,
x-xii., 369), "etait devenue aussi manoeuvriere que l'armee fran-
f aise. "

2 20 Wellington
They were, in a word, no longer the men of Jena and
Austerlitz, nay, of Busaco and Fuentes d'Onoro.
It should be added that the army of Soult con
tained bad foreign elements in its ranks, and was,
by degrees, crowded with comparatively worthless
conscripts. Having made a spirited and stirring address to his
troops, in which their late chiefs were severely con
demned, SouLt resolved to assume a daring offensive.
His position gave him a great strategic advantage.
The French army extended along the northern
verge of the Pyrenees ; it had the command of good
lateral roads, connecting the passes into the range
and facilitating movements in that direction ; it held
the fortress of St. Jean Pied de Port, which screened
its operations to a certain extent. The army of
Wellington, on the other hand, though it controlled
the main road from San Sebastian to Pampeluna,
had very inferior lateral roads, spreading, as it was,
on the southern edge of the mountains ; this made
the communication between its separate parts dif
ficult, and exposed these to a concentrated attack
in force.' Wellington, moreover, though superior
to Soult in numbers — he was at the head of perhaps
100,000 men — had blockaded Pampeluna, at one ex
tremity of his line, and was laying siege, on the other,
to San Sebastian ; the double operation, which he
acknowledged was a mistake, — he may have under
rated the organising power of his foe, — engaged a
very considerable part of his army ; and his right
wing was certainly too weak, and lay open to a bold
' See Selection, p. 720.

From the Pyrenees to the Garonne 221
and resolute stroke. Soult availed himself with re
markable skUl of the favourable situation this pre
sented to him. Leaving only small detachments in
his rear, he massed together the forces of Reille and
Clausel, from 35,000 to 40,000 strong, and moving
rapidly through the famous pass of Roncesvalles,
he advanced against Wellington's feeble right, while
D'Erlon, at the head of nearly 20,000 men, pushed
onward through the pass of Maya against the allied
centre. All went auspiciously with the Marshal at
first ; on the 25th of July he bore back with 30,000
men the brigades opposed to him not 10,000 strong;
D'Erlon thrust aside or defeated part of the forces of
Hill, inflicting a loss that was severely felt. But at
this point the shortcomings of Soult were seen ; he
halted on the 26th and made no use of his success ;
he almost halted again on the 27th, awaiting, prob
ably, the approach of D'Erlon, whose movements
had been unaccountably slow.' These hesitations
gave Wellington just suflficient time to reinforce his
gravely imperilled wing, though he remained consid
erably inferior in force ; he was attacked on the 28th
by his adversary at Sorauren, almost within sight of
Pampeluna ; but the advantage gained by the Mar
shal had been well-nigh lost. The French fell on
with determined valour, but they had to assaU and
carry a strong position ; the result was what had
' I cannot credit the statement of Napier that Soult's inaction on
the 27th was caused by his having heard shouts announcing the pre
sence of Wellington. In a conversation at St. Helena, related by
Gourgaud, Napoleon declared that " Soult ought to have over
whelmed WeUington on the 25th." This criticism is exaggerated,
but has some truth in it. — Gourgaud, ii., 416.

222 Wellington
been seen at Busaco ; after hours of " bludgeon
work," as was Wellington's phrase, the army of
Soult, practically beaten, gave up the contest.
On the 29th of July not a shot vvas fired ; the hos
tile armies maintained the ground they held, but
WeUington's right had been much strengthened ;
D'Erlon, with eighteen thousand men, had at last
come into line with his chief. Soult had still a su
periority of force ; but he had learned a lesson from
the battle of the 28th, vvhich his lieutenants had
urged him not to fight ; he did not venture upon
another engagement ; he formed a new combination
worthy of a very able strategist. Hill, defeated on
the 25th, was drawing near WeUington ; but he was
isolated and still a long way off ; Soult resolved to
fall on him, and to sweep him out of his path, while
Wellington, still at Sorauren, was to be held in
check. Should Hill be overwhelmed, as there was
reason to expect, the Marshal might destroy some of
his enemies along the hills and, above all, might be
able to reach the main road from Pampeluna to San
Sebastian, to advance by it and to raise the siege of
that fortress. Taking, therefore, D'Erlon and some
of his own troops with him, and leaving Reille and
Clausel with the mass of the army, before Welling
ton, Soult attacked Hill on the 30th with very su
perior forces; he succeeded in turning the British
General's left, and all but reached his great object,
the main road, which might become an avenue to
no ordinary success. But Hill made a tenacious de
fence, disputing every inch of the ground ; he fell
back to another position ; the progress of the Mar-

From the Pyrenees to the Garonne 223
shal was thus arrested ; meanwhile Wellington had
struck a terrible stroke, which at once frustrated all
his opponent's projects. Relying on his tactical
power and on the ascendency his troops had gained,
the British chief attacked Reille and Clausel on the
30th ; he endeavoured to turn both their flanks,
and at the same time he assaUed their front ; a point
of vantage was won on the extreme French right ;
this was the prelude to complete success. In this
second battle of Sorauren, as it has been called,
Soult's men did not give proof of their wonted cour
age ; they felt the effects of the reverse of two
days before ; they gave way along the whole line ;
the division of Foy was cut off from the beaten
army. This sudden disaster placed the Marshal in
the gravest danger ; he was exposed to a twofold
attack by Wellington and Hill ; but he ably extri
cated himself, if with enormous loss. Rallying his
shattered divisions as best he could, he threaded the
pass of Dona Maria on his right, and thence he
made good his retreat to the frontier, having only
once attempted to run the risk of a stand. He had
certainly been hardly treated by Fortune ; he had
no reason to suppose that his lieutenants would be
easily beaten ; they were in considerable force and
held a strong position. But Soult's operations from
first to last revealed his merits and defects in war ;
he could plan well, but in carrying out his plans was
not good ; this was most perilous when in the pre
sence of such a man as WeUington. D'Erlon, too,
was greatly to blame for his delays ; had he pushed
forward on the 26th and the 27th, the issue of the

2 24 Wellington
conflict might have been very different. As regards
the British commander, he made a strategic mistake
in attacking two fortresses at the same time, and in
leaving his right well-nigh uncovered ; it was well he
had not Napoleon before him ; as it was, his position
was made diflficult in the extreme. But his counter-
stroke on the 30th was in his best manner, if un
doubtedly he owed much to his invincible troops.
The losses of Soult in this interesting passage of
arms was from twelve thousand to thirteen thou
sand men, those of Wellington less than eight
thousand, and victory had once more abandoned the
eagles. After the battles of the Pyrenees, as they have
been named, Soult took a strong position in front of
Bayonne, holding the range of hills along the Ni
veUe, a stream parallel to the Nive and the Adour,
but keeping possession of St. Jean Pied de Port.
His adversary, taught by recent experience, en
trenched the passes leading into the mountain range
and placed his army in a better situation for defence;
there were no operations in the field for some weeks.
The British commander now turned to the siege of
San Sebastian, which had been for some time an ob
ject of attack ; as has been said, it was essential to
master the place before the borders of France could
be crossed. San Sebastian was not a great strong
hold in itself, but its position and the peculiarities
of the ground made it very diflficult to besiege and
reduce ; and it was defended by an able command
ant and a devoted garrison. The fortress stands on
an isthmus projecting into the Bay of Biscay ; it is

From the Pyrenees to the Garonne. 225
covered to the north by a river caUed the Urumcea,
and to the south by a creek, an inlet of the Bay ; on
the west it is commanded by a steep hill, crowned
at this time by an old castle ; the only easy approach
to it is by a rising ground from the east. The for
tifications were not imposing ,¦ but they comprised a
succession of outer and inner works which formed a
kind of fourfold barrier ; the hill and the castle were
points of vantage ; an enemy advancing to assault
the place would be dangerously exposed to the gar
rison's efforts. Two of the outworks were carried on
the 17th of July; but an assault on the breaches
which had been made on the northern front was
successfully repulsed on the 25th, the day when
Soult forced the Pyrenean passes. The siege was
now suspended for more than three weeks, for a
suflficient battering train had not arrived from Eng
land ; Graham, who commanded the besieging force,
though at the head of ten thousand men, not to
refer to a covering army, was compelled to remain
well-nigh wholly inactive. This respite gave the de
fenders — they were less than three thousand strong
— an opportunity turned to the best advantage by
their skilful chief, Rey ; some reinforcements came
in from the Bay, not intercepted by the British
cruisers ; the breaches were re-trenched and made
diflficult to force ; batteries were constructed at dif
ferent points ; works, where injured, were carefully
repaired ; a great mine was laid along the spaces,
where the besiegers, it was foreseen, would make
the assault ; San Sebastian, in a word, was immensely
strengthened. The battering train had reached its

2 26 Wellington
destination on the 19th of August ; for twelve days
a tempest of shot and shell, directed from sand-hills,
called the Chofres, beyond the Urumcea, ravaged the
place with its stern work of destruction. But the
defences of San Sebastian were by no means ruined ;
redoubts, a hornwork, and batteries remained in
tact ; a general assault was ordered forthe 31st ; but
the storming columns advanced between the river
and the walls, exposing their flank to the fire of the
enemy. They were struck down in hundreds before
the breaches were attained : had not the great mine
been exploded at the wrong moment the assault, it
is believed, would have failed. The stormers, how
ever, were supported by a body of Portuguese, who
crossed the Urumcea at the very nick of time ; the
breaches were at last carried, after a desperate
struggle ; the result was partly due to a mere acci
dent. The castle on the hill held out for some days ;
it was surrendered on the 9th of September ; San
Sebastian had been defended for nearly ten weeks.
As in the case of other assaulted places in that age,
the excesses of the victors were, unhappily, great.
Soult made an effort to relieve San Sebastian ; he
crossed the Bidassoa, but not in force ; the attempt
was tentative, and came to nothing. The belliger
ent armies returned to their former positions along
either side of the Pyrenees to the west ; no import
ant movements were made for a month. Here Wel
lington's inaction has again been censured ; but
sound mUitary reasons explain his conduct. He had
to form a new base before he invaded France, and to
procure supplies on the seaboard of Biscay ; his ad-

Froin the Pyrenees to the Garonne 227
vance from Portugal had been unexpectedly rapid ;
he was in need of requirements of all kinds for his
troops. Besides, faction at Lisbon had raised its
head against him ; the Spanish Government had
been incensed by exaggerated reports as to the ex
cesses of his men ; it indulged in angry and noisy
threats ; it was weakened by intestine discord.
Moreover, it must be borne in mind that the issue of
the contest in Germany was still doubtful ; Napoleon
held his commanding position on the Elbe. Wel
lington well knew what the great warrior was ; he
had little faith inthe operations of his foes. Should
the Emperor win a decisive battle on the plains of
Saxony, he would be able to reinforce his Spanish
armies; he retained many of the fortresses in tbe
East ; Soult and Suchet, if largely strengthened,
might make it go hard with the British commander.
And even if no great additions were made to their
forces, the position of Suchet in the east of Spain
was a dangerous menace, and Pampeluna had not
yet fallen. Lord William Bentinck had superseded
Murray ; but his operations and those of the Spanish
armies in Aragon and Catalonia, were of little use,
he had been defeated at Ordal, beyond the lower
Ebro. Suchet was superior in real strength in the
eastern provinces ; he had advanced into Catalonia
towards the frontier, leaving garrisons in several fort
resses in his rear ; if he was now far distant from
WeUington's flank, it was possible for him to join
hands with Soult, — this very movement we shall
see was proposed ; the united forces of the two
marshals would, in that event, be formidable in the

228 Wellington
extreme. Wellington, therefore, wished to dispose
of Suchet before venturing into France : he even
contemplated operations against the Marshal ; from
a military point of view he was fully justified.
While Wellington and Soult were thus watching
each other, ruin was befalling Napoleon and his
arms in Germany. When the Emperor rejected the
terms of the Allies, which would have left him with
hardly diminished power, he was confident that he
would overwhelm his enemies, and be once more the
undisputed Lord of the Continent. But he had
wholly underrated the strength of the material and
moral forces arrayed against him : he disposed, no
doubt, of half a million of men ; but his army was
filled with rude levies and discontented foreigners;
the Allies had 700,000 men in their ranks ; the Prus
sian army was 150,000 strong, not 40,000, as he had
supposed; all Germany from the Niemen to the Rhine
was burning to rush to arms, and to avenge itself on
its French oppressors. And if his position on the
Elbe was imposing, it was weaker than his position
on the Adige in 1796-7 ; the long line of the great
river could be more easily turned, his communica
tions with France were insecure, regard being had to
the German rising. Napoleon, too, from his centre
on the Elbe, had thrown out secondary armies in
many directions, in order partly to strike down
Prussia, which he rightly judged was his bitterest
enemy, and partly to stretch a hand to the large gar
risons he StiU had on the Oder and the Vistula : this
greatly weakened his principal army and exposed
his lieutenants to dangerous attack. He had, in a

Fro'm the Pyrenees to the Garonne 229
word, aimed at and grasped too much : scientific and
grand as his strategy was, it had made the situation
critical for him : had he fallen back to the Rhine in
1813 he could have successfully defied the Coalition's
efforts. Genius in war, nevertheless, for a time tri
umphed : the Emperor won a great battle, at Dres
den ; and but for the disaster of Vandamme at
Culm, the trembling scales of fortune might have in
clined towards France. But the Allies, acting on a
preconcerted plan, the credit of which belongs to
Moreau, and avoiding the strokes of the adversary
they feared, fell on his secondary armies one after
the other : Macdonald was defeated on the Katz-
bach ; Oudinot met the same fate within sight of
Berlin ; Ney was routed with terrible effect at Den-
newitz ; the losses of the Emperor were enormous ;
he was compelled to change the plan of his cam
paign. He marched down the Elbe hoping to seize
Berlin, and to crush Prussia in a decisive trial of
strength ; but Blucher had successfully crossed the
river ; Schwartzenberg was on the march to join
Blucher ; Bavaria suddenly declared for the Allies ;
Jerome's kingdom of Westphalia disappeared ;
Napoleon had no other choice but to abandon his
design. He retreated on Leipzig, vvhere the greatly
superior forces of the League of Europe were clos
ing around him ; a great battle of two days followed :
on the first the advantage remained with the French ;
on the second they were distinctly worsted, partly
owing to the defection of the Saxon contingent.
The defeated army was now driven out of Leipzig ;
the destruction of a bridge on the Elster caused the

230 Wellington
loss of many thousands of men ; the retreat was
marked by scenes of horror and despair, like those
which had attended the retreat from Moscow. A
gleam shone on the Emperor's arms, as his fugitive
host toUed onwards to the Main : the Bavarian,
Wrede, was defeated at Hanau, but this was the
flicker of the expiring lamp. The Grand Army which
a few weeks before had seemed to defy attack on
the Elbe had been destroyed as a military force ; a
mere wreck only sought refuge behind the Rhine :
the French garrisons in Germany had been lost to
their country.
At the instance of the Allies and of the British
Ministry, Wellington had entered France a few days
before Leipzig. His military object was to seize
Fuentarabia, as a base of supplies ; he was still not
inclined to invade the country, in face of the diflfi
culties to which he remained exposed. His opera
tions were successful and brilliant : he deceived his
adversary as to the true point of attack, as he had
deceived him before upon the Douro ; he crossed the
Bidassoa by fords near its mouth, and drove back
Soult's right with largely superior numbers. Nearly
at the same time he carried a height called the Great
Rhune, just outside the main positions of the French ;
the resistance was for some hours stern, but the
British General turned the mountain by the left, and
had erelong compelled the enemy to retreat. But
as yet he had only reached the edge of the ground
of vantage held by Soult, a range of eminences,
we have seen, along the Nivelle, before the import
ant fortress of Bayonne. The Marshal had fortified

From the Pyrenees to the Garonne 231
this position with skill and care ; it bristled with re
doubts and entrenchments ; a double series of hnes
protected the heights ; these have been compared
to the famous lines of Torres Vedras. But there
was an essential distinction between the two cases :
Soult's lines were hastily constructed in face of the
enemy ; he commanded a brave, but a defeated
army ; and Wellington, unlike Massena, was victori
ous and had a superiority of force. The Marshal
endeavoured to find other means to defend the
menaced territory of France, nay, to place his
antagonist in real straits ; he formed a combination
worthy of his strategic powers. Suchet was in Cata
lonia and could dispose of thirty thousand men,
veteran soldiers of an excellent quality ; Soult en
treated him to cross the frontier, to advance through
Roussillon, and to join hands with him around
Tarbfes and Pau ; the united armies, fully ninety
thousand strong, would then break into Spain through
the pass of Jaca, and fall on the flank and rear of
WeUington ; should they defeat the British chief in
a great battle, they would perhaps drive him back
as far as the Douro. It was a fine project, and it
proves how Wellington was right in being appre
hensive as to the position of Suchet, though it may
be doubted if the two French armies could have
made good their way, with their artillery, through the
narrow pass of Jaca, especially as the winter was at
hand. But as Suchet would not operate by himself
against Wellington, he now refused to accede to
Soult's counsels ; a real opportunity may have been
lost ; the French commanders, as so often had been

232 Wellington
the case before, did not agree with each other and
would not act in concert.'
Pampeluna had fallen on the 31st of October; a
danger on Wellington's right flank had thus been
removed. Leipzig had, by this time, closed the cam
paign in Germany ; the British chief was again urged
to invade France. For the reasons, however, already
given, he was still indisposed to an operation of this
kind ; the weather, too, had been exceedingly bad,
and the Spaniards in his camp had hardly any sup
plies. He resolved, in the first days of November,
to storm Soult's fortified lines ; the result, if partly
due to other not unimportant causes, was a fine
example of his admirable coup d'ceil, and of his re
markable tactical power, but also of his adversary's
defects on a field of battle. The lines to be assailed
extended on a front from Ainhoue on the French
left to the right on the sea ; they formed, we have
seen, a strong twofold barrier ; they were held by
D'Erlon, Clausel, and Reille, with probably 50,000
men. But Foy stood, on the far left, with a large
detachment, intended to threaten an offensive move
ment ; in the events that followed he was almost out
of the conflict. Wellington's army was divided into
three main bodies. Hill on the right, Beresford hold
ing the centre — that General had been called up from
Portugal; Sir John Hope was in command on the
' Soult, before this time, had urged Suchet to attack or to threaten
Wellington's right flank. The plan of a combined operation is
fully explained in Napier's Peninsular War, iii., 310-314. Napier,
however, is always on the side of Soult when he refers to another
French colleague. Good judges have thought Soult's plan very
hazardous, nay, impracticable.

Fro'm the Pyrenees to the Garonne 233
left; -it numbered some 74,000 men. Soult, reckon
ing Foy, had perhaps 60,000. The attack began
on the loth of November ; a hill, called the Lesser
Rhune, and the intervening space to the bridge of
Amotz, upon the Nivelle, formed the vulnerable
point in the Marshal's lines; Wellington perceived
this with characteristic insight ; Hill and Beresford
were directed to master the point ; their combined
forces, more than 40,000 strong, bore back and de
feated D'Erlon, who had not more than 15,000 men.
Clausel made an obstinate defence at the centre,
but the weakest part of his front was held by a bri
gade only ; this was attacked by at least 8000 men ;
he was erelong driven from the positions he held.
Meanwhile Foy had been kept in check by a small
body of men, and Reille, on Soult's right, with
25,000 troops, was paralysed by Hope with a very
inferior force. The masterly dispositions of the
British chief had thus brought overwhelming num-
¦ bers against the French left and centre ; the lines
were carried along this space ; the first line of the
defence was untenable and was soon abandoned.
Soult, on the contrary, had arrayed his army badly ;
Foy, practically, was kept out of the battle ; Reille
was unable to turn his divisions to account ; the
Marshal made no real attempt to improve his posi
tion. On the second hne of the defence Httle resist
ance was made; the twofold obstacle was carried
with comparatively little loss. The issue was mainly
due to the ability and the resource of Wellington.
It is fair, nevertheless, to Soult to remark that his
soldiery were disheartened by the rout of Leipzig,

234 Wellington
and did not make the stand that might have been
expected from them.'
Notwithstanding the delays which had been laid
to his charge, the British General had invaded France
many months before the AUies. Soult was much
disconcerted by the carrying of his lines ; he appears
to have believed that they were impregnable; but
he was a tenacious and determined soldier; he fell
back on the fortress of Bayonne, and entrenched
himself again in a strong position. Bayonne was
only a place of the third order, but its situation
makes it a point of vantage for defence if a com
mander knows how to turn the adjoining ground
to account. It is placed on the confluence of the
Adour and the Nive, both large rivers, especially in
the floods of winter ; the tract around it is divided
by the Nive, which separates it into two parts ; the
lands in its front are scarcely practicable for troops
in a rainy season. Having strengthened his position
by inundations and field works, Soult arrayed his
army before Bayonne, extending it on both sides of
the Nive ; D'Erlon was on the left, with Foy on the
extreme left ; Clausel held the centre, Reille the
right. The Marshal had still nearly 60,000 men, but
some of these were Germans, and there were a num
ber of conscripts. Wellington placed his army nearly
in front of Soult, but occupied only one side of the
' Napier's comments on this battle, History of the Peninsular
War, iii., 340, 341, are very discriminating and just. He clearly
points out how Wellington brought largely superior forces to the de
cisive points, and how Soult failed to defend them. " Against such
a thunderbolt of war," he reinarks, "there was no defence in the
French ranks."

From the Pyrenees to the Garonne 235
Nive; Hill was on the right, Beresford in the centre,
Hope on the left; the troops were confined to the
space between the Nive and the coast, and held a
somewhat narrow and contracted front. The army,
however, nearly 100,000 strong, was very superior to
that of the enemy. The British General would have
quickly faUen on Soult but for unexpected diflficul
ties that crossed his purpose. The Spaniards in his
camp, having entered France, gave a free rein to ex
cesses of all kinds. Wellington had no choice but to
make severe examples ; he actually sent the great
body of these troops across the frontier, retaining
only one or two divisions, and necessarily weakening
to some extent his forces. He also dreaded a rising
of the population around him ; he rightly described
it as a martial race. He issued a proclamation,
pledging himself to respect persons and property,
and to pay for supplies ; and this had an admirable
effect on the neighbouring peasantry, who, as a rule,
did not stir from their homes. These wise arrange
ments, characteristic of a chief intolerant of license
and stern in discipline, but essentially humane, like
most British oflficers, and having their ingrained re
spect for order and law, contributed largely to his
ultimate success ; but some time passed before they
were complete. It should be added that the low
lands in front of Bayonne were turned into swamps
by incessant rains ; this circumstance alone retarded
the intended attack.
By the first week of December WeUington had
his arrangements made ; he resolved to cross to the
side of the Nive he had not yet occupied. His

236 Wellington
object was to hem in Soult in Bayonne ; to intercept
the supplies of his enemy, and especially to cut him
off from St. Jean Pied de Port, and to separate him
from the Pyrenean passes. But the attempt was to
be made in the face of an able chief, in possession of
a fortress and a central position, which gave him
shorter lines on the whole scene of action : even if
successful it would make two parts of the allied
army, with a broad river, not easy to cross, between
them. The movement began on the 9th of Decem
ber: Hope made a demonstration against Soult's
right, and held Reille, though superior in force, in
check : meantime, Beresford and Hill, meeting but
little resistance, crossed the Nive at the two points
of Ustaritz and Cambo, and established themselves,
in force, in the positions they had won. The Mar
shal had, in fact, been surprised by a bold, rapid,
and well-conceived attack ; his adversary had seized
the northern bank of the Nive : so far, he had com
pletely gained his object. But Wellington's army
was now divided on a wide stream ; the operation,
skilfully carried out as it was, was in the abstract, at
least, a strategic mistake, to be justified only by the
ascendency his troops had attained ; Soult seized the
opportunity presented to him. Availing himself of
the screen which his entrenchments and Bayonne
gave him, and holding the chord of the arc on which
his enemy stood, the French chief assembled his
whole army on the southern bank of the Nive : he
concentrated nearly sixty thousand against thirty
thousand men : he attacked Wellington on the loth
of December. The British General, as in July, was

From the Pyrenees to the Garonne 237
in no doubtful peril ; had Soult fallen in full strength
on the allied centre, he would have found only a
single division in his path : he must have gained,
possibly, a signal victory. But the Marshal, from
some unknown reason, sent Reille with all his forces
against Hope, that is, against the left of his foe, —
a badly conceived, almost an eccentric movement, — ¦
and Reille, after a fierce struggle at a place called
Barrouilet, was repulsed. Meanwhile the division in
the centre had held its ground, though attacked by
Clausel with superior numbers : but it could hardly
have maintained its position with success, had not
Soult unexpectedly given up the attack. Welling
ton, from the opposite side of the Nive, had ferried
large detachments across the river ; these, though
still distant, threatened Soult's left flank : Clausel
was directed by his superior to retreat from the
heights of Bussussary, which he had nearly won.
Once more the faults of the French commander
appeared ; a demonstration, for it was little more,
made him abandon a prospect of real success : be
sides, he had not chosen the true point of attack,
and had not overwhelmed his enemy's centre ;
Reille, too, had been moved in the wrong direction.
The French army fell back on Bayonne : the fine
project of its chief had, in its execution, faUed.
Two German regiments, after this hard-fought
combat, followed the example of the Saxons at Leip
zig, and went over to WeUington's camp. But the
French commander was not dismayed : he knew the
advantage of his central position : he resolved to
seize another opportunity to attack. On the nth

238 Wellington
and 1 2th of December skirmishes only took place;
but on the night of the 12th a flood in the Nive
swept away a bridge by which the Allies had crossed ;
Hill remained isolated on the northern bank ; he
had not more than 14,000 men in hand. Soult
had been defiling his army through Bayonne;
on the 13th he fell, with 35,000 men, on Hill: the
odds were immensely in the Marshal's favour, if
not so decisive as might be supposed. The ad
vance of the French was upon a narrow front,
and by roads made almost impassable ; Soult was
unable to bring more than 20,000 men into ac
tion. The assailants, nevertheless, had much the
better of the fight for some hours : their artil
lery played from a height with deadly effect ; HiU's
centre at St. Pierre was very nearly broken : two
English colonels, afterwards disgraced, abandoned
their positions and drew their men out of fire. Vic
tory seemed at last in the Marshal's grasp : he pushed
forward part of his reserve ; he prepared himself
for a final effort ; in this instance he tried to strike
hard, and home. But three regiments, two British,
one Portuguese, continued to make a fierce resist
ance : a sudden panic fell on the advancing enemy,
caused, it has been said, by a mistaken order to re
treat ; at the very crisis of the fight Soult's columns
came to a stand,' and failed to make use of the ad
vantage they had gained. Hill was gradually rein-
^t^a.^ieiT's History of the Peninsular War, iii., 354, significantly
remarks : ' ' Yet the battle seemed hopeless, for Ashworth was badly
wounded, his line was shattered to atoms and Barnes, who had not
quitted the field for his former hurt, was shot through the body,''

From the Pyrenees to the Garonne 239
forced to a certain extent : and ultimately Soult
gave up the contest. But HiU for a time was in the
greatest danger'; it was conspicuously made appar
ent, how hazardous it is to have an army divided
upon a wide river, in front of a concentrated enemy,
especiaUy if he commands a fortress.
Soult retreated into Bayonne after this indecisive
battle ; he did not venture to make another attack ;
he devoted some time to restoring his weakened
army and to strengthening his position around the
fortress. Wellington remained in possession of both
banks of the Nive; he continued to carry out his
purpose, that is, to keep his adversary within Bay
onne, to isolate him, to cut off his supplies, and to
separate him from Spain, and even from the plains
of Gascony. The Marshal eluded these operations
with skill and resource ; he left a considerable garri
son in Bayonne, but he succeeded in maintaining his
communications with the adjoining country, and he
held his army in readiness to march to the upper
Garonne, where he still hoped to join hands with
Suchet, who was about to abandon Catalonia and to
cross the frontier. Hostilities, however, were nearly
suspended for about two months ; a winter of ex
treme severity prevented operations in the field, and
the movements of the British chief had rightly been
made to depend on the general invasion of France
' Napier, History of the Peninsular War, iii., 355, points this out.
" The Allies could not, unsuccoured, have sustained a fresh assault."
Soult, except perhaps at Orthes, was never so near victory as on this
occasion : of his operations as a whole Napier says, iii., 356, " The
French general's plan was conceived with genius, but the execution
offers a great contrast to the conception."

240 Wellington
by the League of Europe. Meanwhile the Empire
of Napoleon was menaced on every side with ruin ;
Murat had abandoned his benefactor and joined the
Allies; Holland and even Belgium were in revolt; the
hosts of the Coalition were upon the Rhine ; France,
exhausted by her efforts in 1813, seemed utterly un
able to prolong the war; a movement against her
ruler had begun ; discontent agitated the terrified
bodies of the State. The situation appeared des
perate, but the great master of war did not give up
hope ; he left nothing undone to restore his shat
tered military power, and though he listened, per
haps sincerely, to overtures for peace, he prepared
to contend for Italy and the France of the natural
boundaries. These events profoundly affected the
position of Soult ; the Marshal was being cast on a
stormy sea of troubles ; large drafts from his best
troops were made by the Emperor ; his army was
reduced to some 40,000 men ; increasing numbers
of these were mere conscripts. But this was not
all, or nearly all ; his soldiery, accustomed to li
cence in Spain, preyed on the country and stirred
up the population against them ; he was short of
requirements necessary to take the field ; parts of
the south of France were breaking away from the
Empire ; a rising in behalf of the fallen Bourbons
was being planned at Bordeaux. But the diflfi
culties, too, of Wellington were great, even at a
conjuncture when the war seemed coming to an
end. The admirable arrangements he had made
to preserve discipline and to defray all the charges
of his army had, no doubt, kept the French peas-

From the Pyrenees to the Garonne 241
antry quiet ; they were, indeed, better disposed
to his troops than to those of their own country
men. But his Spanish auxiliaries were still given
to excesses — a large number of these had been re
called ; the Regency, as it was named, of Portugal
continued to refuse him the aid he required ; the
Spanish Cortes had not ceased to be angry and jeal
ous. A most important incident, besides, had oc
curred, which the British commander regarded with
just apprehensions. Napoleon had made a treaty
with his captive, Ferdinand ; had acknowledged him
as king, and had sent him back into Spain. Wel
lington feared that the Cortes might confirm this
compact, and actually wrote to the Government
at home that a war with Spain was by no means
impossible. This danger, however, was soon dispelled ; the
Cortes refused to have anything to do with Fer
dinand, and Wellington's position was in other re
spects improved. The campaign opened in the
middle of February, 18 14, the frost having con
gealed the roads and made operations practicable
in a diflficult country. The British chief was stUl at
the head of about 100,000 men ; but of these 25,000
perhaps were Spaniards, a part on the other side of
the Pyrenees; exclusive of the garrison of Bayonne,
which seems to have been rather too large — this at
least was the judgment of Napoleon. Soult, we
have seen, was not more than 40,000 strong, and
thousands of his troops were rude levies. The in
tention of WeUington was to attack Soult, whose
army extended from the eastern verge of Bayonne,
16

242 Wellington
along the Bidouze, an aflfluent of the Adour, and
also along the Gave of Oleron, the local name of a
mountain torrent ; and at the same time to cross the
Adour at its mouth, to invest it, and, if possible, to
reduce Bayonne. Both operations were attended
with success, if this was not as complete as Wel
lington could have wished. Soult's lieutenants were
driven from their positions to the Gave of Pau, a
stream parallel to the Gave of Oleron ; St. Jean
Pied de Port was besieged by a Spanish division.
The Marshal was finaUy cut off from the Pyrenean
passes and forced farther into the interior of France ;
his army, however, had suffered little loss ; he made
ready for another trial of strength before under
taking his march to the Garonne, which he had
had in contemplation for some time. Meanwhile the
allied army had effected the passage of the Adour ;
the operation was conducted with daring and skill ;
a bridge of boats was thrown across the river ; a flo
tilla seconded the crossing from the sea ; a kind of
causeway was made of small coasting vessels. The
garrison offered but little resistance ; the French, it
has been said, were terrified by the British rockets, a
missUe as yet little known in the warfare of that age.
The fortress was now besieged by Hope, but it held
out until the close of the war ; the siege, too, occu
pied a large part of Wellington's forces ; in fact, he
failed here toattain his object; he had hoped to master
Bayonne, to penetrate into France, and to find a
better theatre on which to contend with his enemy.
Meanwhile Soult, faUing back behind the Gave
of Pau, had assembled some forty thousand men, —

Fro'm the Pyrenees to the Garonne 243
seven thousand of these, however, were conscripts, —
in a formidable position, round the little town of
Orthes. His right, under Reille, was protected by
marshy ground and held the hamlet of St. Boes and
the adjoining heights, sloping down towards the vil
lage of Baights ; his centre, commanded by D'Erlon,
was covered by an eminence, — the Marshal took
his stand on this in the battle that foUowed, — by a
ravine and by a swampy flat ; his left, with Clausel
at its head, held Orthes and its fine bridge, the
only one on the Gave that had been left un
broken. Both the flanks and the front of Soult
were thus extremely strong and very diflficult to
reach and attack ; he was behind a river, be
sides, which the enemy must cross. WeUing
ton had approached the position by the 25th of
February ; having reconnoitred the ground with
care, he made preparations rather, as he believed, to
dislodge his adversary from his points of vantage
than to fight a strongly contested pitched battle.
The British General was not quite forty thousand
strong : making every allowance for detachments and
the siege of Bayonne, it appears strange that he had
not assembled a more powerful force against his able
opponent. His right, under Hill, was before Or
thes and Clausel ; his centre and left under Picton
and Beresford, confronted D'Erlon and Reille, and
Soult's centre and right. At daybreak on the 27th
Picton and Beresford crossed the Gave ; the Marshal,
it is said, thought of attacking them when in the act
of passing ; but he preferred to maintain his attitude
of defence, and to accept a battle, which gave him

244 Wellington
good hope of success. Hill remained on the other
side of the river, and there was a wide space between
his two colleagues ; Wellington's army was thus not
favourably placed to fall on an enemy in a position
of remarkable strength. The advanced posts of the
French were soon driven in ; but the battle raged
furiously for at least three hours around the village
of St. Boes and its heights; the troops of the defence
had long a distinct advantage. The men of Beres
ford and Picton, still rather far apart, endeavoured
in vain to turn the enemy's right, and to force his
centre ; they were repulsed over and over again, as
they struggled through the obstacles in their way,
and sought to close with the skilfully posted French ;
they were ravaged by a destructive fire of guns and
of musketry. Soult, it is said, as he beheld what
seemed a certain defeat, smote his thigh and ex
claimed, " I have him at last " ; he marshalled his re
serves to make victory complete. But Wellington
had watched the battle from a hill on his side ; his
tactical inspiration turned the scales of fortune.
Perceiving that St. Boes and the height could not be
carried, he contrived by a movement of characteristic
skill, to turn this part of the position to the left ;
the result was before long developed : safety, nay,
success, was admirably plucked from danger. The
French army gave way by degrees : its commander
had no choice but to retreat. Meanwhile Hill had
effected the passage of the Gave ; Clausel feU back
to join his discomfited chief. The retreat was con
ducted in good order ; but thousands of conscripts
disbanded and threw away their arms.

From the Pyrenees to the Garonne 245
Soult had ably fought a defensive battle ; he had
only just missed a real victory; but probably he
should have fallen on his antagonist when crossing
the Gave : here, again, we see his shortcomings in the
field. On the other hand, Wellington's strategy can
hardly be admired ; but his genius in tactics shone
out finely ; his movement to turn the hill at St. Boes
was a master stroke.' The Marshal had lost four
thousand men at Orthes ; besides, perhaps, half of his
boyish conscripts ; but he rose superior to fortune,
however adverse ; he made ready to march to the
Garonne, where he still hoped to be joined by Suchet.
The retrograde movement was across the heads
of the streams which descend from the Pyrenees,
through a diflficult and intricate country ; it was
effected with admirable skill and resource ; it was in
no sense a mere passive retreat. Soult made a stand
at Tarbfes on the upper Adour, and successfully held
his adversary at bay : more than once he assumed a
daring offensive ; meanwhile he reorganised his de
feated troops, restored their confidence in some de
gree, endeavoured to stir up a partisan warfare, and
obtained reinforcements, though for the most part
conscripts. And these fine operations were carried
out at a time when the Empire was crashing down
in ruin, and when a large part of the south of
France was declaring against it ; this retreat of Soult,
in fact, may be fitly compared to the remarkable
retreat of Chanzy to Lemans, a striking episode
in the great war of 1870. Wellington foUowed the
' Napier, History of the Peninsular War, iii., 419, has very clearly
described the characteristics of the contending_generals at Orthes.

246 Wellingtoii
Marshal cautiously and at a distance ; he was appre
hensive of the strength of Suchet, who, he assumed,
would come into line with Soult ; his army was being
reduced by large detachments to guard his length
ened communications and his rear ; and he sent off
Beresford, with twelve thousand men, to Bordeaux,
where the Due D'Angoulfime and many leading citi
zens had organised a rising against Napoleon, and
had raised the white flag of the House of Bourbon.
It may be doubted if this was a wise step in a mere
military sense ; but it was of the first importance to
second a movement, which was extending itself
throughout Gascony : it should be added that Wel
lington gave proof of his characteristic prudence; he
refused to recognise the Bourbons without the con
sent of his Government, though he did not conceal
his sympathies with them. All this made his opera
tions slow, as was often the case with him when fol
lowing a retiring enemy, and he found it necessary
to call up large reinforcements to his army as it ad
vanced eastwards. Meanwhile Soult had reached
Toulouse, the chief town of Languedoc, in the last
days of March ; he had gained a considerable start
on his enemy ; he had reached his position on the
Garonne.' During the course of these events in the south of
France, Napoleon's Empire was toppling down in
ruin. By the first days of January, 1814, the armies
of the embattled Continent had crossed the Rhine :

' For an excellent criticism of these operations of Wellington and
Soult, see Napier's Peninsular War, iii., 435-436. The historian
blames the slowness of Wellington's pursuit.

From the Pyrenees to the Garonne 247
they extended on a great arc from the confluence of
the Moselle to the verge of Switzerland. The rapid
ity of the invasion had surprised the Emperor ; he
had not had time to restore his forces ; France, ex
hausted and discontented, gave him little support :
he had not more than 80,000 or 100,000 beaten
troops to oppose to 300,000 of the Allies. After La
Rothifere his position appeared desperate; this would
have been the case had his adversaries followed the
principles of war. But Blucher and Schwartzenberg,
the chiefs of the hosts of the League, men of differ
ent natures and not disposed to agree, divided their
armies on the Marne and the Seine ; Napoleon
struck in between them, with marvellous power and
skill, opposing a single front of defence to a double
front of attack, he defeated them over and over
again ; Vauchamps, MontmiraU, and Montereau re
called the exploits of 1796-7. The Allies actually
sued for an armistice ; had the Emperor at this
juncture been satisfied with contending only for the
France of the Rhine, the struggle perhaps would
have turned in his favour. But he was still bent on
retaining a great part of his Empire, especially Bel
gium and the prize of Antwerp ; he did not concen
trate all his forces and recall Eugene Beauharnais
from across the Alps : this, in a military sense, was a
real fault in his magnificent operations in 18 14. Nev
ertheless his genius shone grandly out for a time ;
Blucher advanced rashly again, as he had advanced
before ; he was nearly caught and destroyed at
Soissons ; but the old Prussian chief would not
acknowledge defeat; Napoleon met a reverse at

248 Wellington
Laon, followed by another at Arcis sur Aube, when
he turned to manoeuvre against Schwartzenberg.
Still, notwithstanding this partial success, the Allies,
despite their overwhelming numbers, had really not
accomplished much; they had been outgeneralled
in every respect ; Wellington, with a relatively small
army, had been of more weight in the scales of for
tune. The British General has, in fact, maintained
that their mighty enemy might have tired them out
had he continued to operate as before ' : but the
Emperor adopted a different course, grand in con
ception, but in the result fatal. He fell back to
wards the Rhine in order to rally his garrisons in
Lorraine, to call up Eugene from Italy and Augereau
from Lyons ; with their united forces — -and they
would be very great — he intended to strike the com
munications and the rear of his foes, to defeat them,
and to drive them out of France. This movement,
however, uncovered Paris ; opinion in the capital was
turning against the war ; the AUies marched on
and seized the seat of the Empire ; the effect was
decisive and complete. After a short resistance
' These comments of Wellington on Napoleon's operations in
1 8 14 are very interesting, especially as Waterloo was soon to be
fought. They are in the Greville Memoirs, i., 73, ed. 1888.
" Bonaparte's last campaign, before the capture of Paris, was very
brilliant, probably the ablest of all his performances. . . . Had
he possessed gieater patience he would have succeeded in compelling
the Allies to retreat. . . . The march upon Paris entirely dis
concerted him and finished the war. The Allies could not have
maintained themselves much longer, and had he continued to keep
his force concentrated and to carry it as occasion required against
one or tlje other of the two armies . . . he must eventually have
forced them to retreat.''

From the Pyrenees to the Garonne 249
Paris opened her gates : the Monarchy of the Bour
bons was proclaimed restored : Napoleon, aban
doned by his companions in arms, but stiff idolised
by his devoted soldiery, signed his abdication on
the 6th of AprU, 18 14.
Meanwhile Wellington and Soult had been gird
ing up their loins for a trial of strength around
Toulouse. The Marshal had given orders to place
the city in a state of defence, before he had ap
proached its walls ; his orders had been carefully
obeyed. Suchet was still in Roussillon when his
colleague reached Toulouse ; his army had been
reduced to 12,000 men ; he continued to turn a deaf
ear to Soult's counsels. That chief was thus prac
tically left to his own resources ; his arrangements
were made with conspicuous ability and skill. He had
still about 38,000 men, for he had been, we have said,
reinforced on his march : his first care was to secure
his communications with the adjoining country, —
he hoped against hope to join Suchet ; his next
was to take a formidable position for a defensive
battle. Toulouse gave him most favourable oppor
tunities for this : he turned them to the very best
advantage. The city is divided by the Garonne, a
deep and broad river: on its southern bank the
suburb of St. Cyprien stands ; this, surrounded by
a loop of the Garonne, could be made well-nigh im
pregnable to attack. The canal of Languedoc cov
ers the place on the northern bank — not to speak
of its ancient enceinte ; outside rises the eminence
of Mont Rave, crowned by a tableland able to con
tain an army ; beyond, the Ers, an aflfluent of the

250 Wellington
Garonne, flows ; an enemy would have to cross this
should he attack Mont Rave, the Ers being at
hand, and directly in his rear. Soult chose his
ground with remarkable skill ; his object was to com
pel the British chief to attack him on the tableland
of Mont Rave ; in that case he would have to make
a long flank march exposed to the onset of the
French columns, and with a river behind him, im
perilling his retreat. The Marshal placed Reille and
his troops in St. Cyprien, which had been made a
post of very great strength ; he had a small detach
ment outside the city to observe the line of his re
treat, in the event of a reverse. But D'Erlon and
Clausel had the mass of their forces accumulated
along Mont Rave and the tableland, the point, Soult
correctly judged, that his adversary would be obliged
to attack. Wellington did not refuse a just meed of
praise to his very able foe : " In the whole of my
experience," he wrote many years afterwards, " I
never saw an army so strongly posted as that of the
French at the battle of Toulouse." '
The start gained upon WeUington by his oppo
nent had enabled the Marshal, not only to choose
his position, but to strengthen Mont Rave- and the
tableland with redoubts and field works. The Brit
ish General was now in command of 52,000 men,
9000, however, being Spaniards ; he resolved to at
tack Soult and to drive him out of Toulouse. On the
28th of March he tried to cross the Garonne above
the city ; but the river was in flood and the materi
als for a bridge too scanty ; he was obliged to cross
'Sir H. Maxwell, Life of Wellington, i., 371.

From the Pyrenees to the Garonne 251
lower down at a place caUed Grenade. The bridge
was destroyed by the force of the current; Beres
ford was isolated, without support, for two whole
days; Soult has been severely blamed for not at
tacking him when in these straits; but Grenade is
fifteen miles from Toulouse; it is diflficult to say
that an opportunity was missed. Wellington had
his dispositions made by the gth of April ; HiU was
to threaten, and, if there was a chance, to attack St.
Cyprien ; Picton, on the left, was to assist Hill ; the
main attack, directed by Wellington himself, with
Beresford and the Spaniards, was to be on Mont
Rave and the tableland. The assailants, therefore,
were extended along a broad arc, of which the de
fenders held the chord, an advantage in itself of no
little importance ; and the British General, as his ad
versary had foreseen, had been compelled to make
his principal effort under conditions in the highest
degree adverse.
The battle began at an early hour on the lOth ; for
a long time victory inclined to the French ; they
might have won it had they had a more daring com
mander. Picton made a rash movement which cost
him dear ; HiU's attempt to storm St. Cyprien com
pletely faUed ; ReiUe was able to detach largely to
the assistance of his chief. Meanwhile Freyre and
his Spaniards, and Beresford with his British troops,
had crossed the Ers by the one bridge that had been
left intact, and had begun making their perUous
flank march, through miry, broken, and diflficult
ground, against Mont Rave and the tableland, ex
posed at all points to the destructive fire of the

252 Wellington
enemy. The Spaniards were unable to stand the
ordeal ; their ranks gave way and became a horde of
fugitives ; Beresford's soldiery, though they toiled
steadily on, were stricken down in hundreds by the
French guns and musketry. As the formidable posi
tion of Soult was reached, the assailants were not
more than 10,000 strong, blown, too, and exhausted
by their most trying march. Soult might have fallen
on them with nearly 20,000 fresh troops, strongly
supported, and from a point of vantage. But the
Marshal's defects in battle were once more made
manifest ; " he did not employ half the force he
might have employed " ; he attacked Beresford with
a single division only ; this was fairly repulsed after
a brief struggle. The assailants now redoubled their
efforts; nothing could withstand the British in
fantry's onset ; the Spaniards rallied at the spirit-
stirring sight ; the French were by degrees driven
back ; Mont Rave and the tableland were won.
Soult retreated, but only a short distance ; he made
ready to fight the next day ; his forces were much
less than those of his enemy. The battle, however,
if indecisive, was a defeat for the French ; they had
been forced away from a position of extraordinary
strength by assailants fighting with all the odds
against them for hours. Once again Soult, admira
ble in conception, had been weak in execution ; but
the result was largely due to the endurance and
the valour of Beresford's men. " I could have done
anything with that army," was a remark made by
its chief.
Soult retreated from Toulouse, stiU entreating

From the Pyrenees to the Garonne 253
Suchet to come into line with him at Carcassonne.
The war, however, had now reached its end ; the
Marshal, it has been said, fought his last great battle
in the confidence of assured success, and knowing
that peace had already been made. This is an un
just, nay, a shameful charge ; it is confuted by a
simple comparison of dates. Napoleon's abdication
was not ratified until the nth of April ; the engage
ment took place upon the loth ; Soult could not
have heard that hostilities had ceased.
The Peninsular War, in a strict sense, closed with
Vitoria and the expulsion of the invaders from
Spain. I have endeavoured to describe the great
qualities of Wellington in that remarkable contest,
to do justice to his antagonists, and to indicate the
characteristics of the beUigerent armies. I shall not
repeat what I have already written. The war along
the Pyrenees and in the south of France resolves
itself into a duel between Soult and Wellington ; it
has peculiar interest for a student of the art. The
Marshal was a strategist of no mean excellence ;
sorne of his combinations were exceedingly fine ; he
outgeneralled his adversary more than once ; he had
great tenacity and firmness of purpose. But he was
not equal to himself in the shock of battle ; his
hand, so to speak, could not second his brain'; he
aUowed victory to slip from his grasp ; he had not
' Napier is very partial to Soult, but these remarks on the Mar
shal's strategy before he fought at Toulouse are true {History of
the Peninsular War, iii., 460): "Soult's combinations were now
crowned with success. He had, by means of his fortresses, his bat
tles, the sudden change of his line of operations after Orthes, his
rapid retreat frora Tarbes, and his clear judgment in fixing upon

254 Wellington
the gifts of Cond6 or of Frederick in the field. In
this contest WeUington made strategic mistakes : in
fact, strategy was not his strong point in war ; but
he was infinitely superior to his opponent in tactical
power ; he directed an army on the ground much
better ; in a word, he was a much greater com
mander.' It is unnecessary to dwell on the qualities
of the contending armies. In 1813 and 1814 the
British soldiery — and the Portuguese were hardly
inferior — trained for years under a great chief and
flushed with repeated success, had acquired a com
plete ascendency over their disheartened foes, exhib
ited on almost every occasion. The main historical
interest of this passage of arms is that it gives us a
measure of what Wellington achieved in the final
struggle between Napoleon and Europe. He kept
Soult, and even Suchet, confined to a theatre of war
outside the great theatre on the Marne and the
Seine; had these Marshals been able to join their
master, the Allies could never have reached Paris;
they would probably have been driven beyond the
Rhine.

Toulouse as his next point of resistance, reduced the strength of his
adversary to an equality with his own. He had gained seventeen
days for preparation, had brought the Allies to deliver battle on
ground naturally adapted for defence, and well fortified, where one-
third of their force was separated by a great river from the rest.''
¦Napier {Hitiory of the Peninsular War, iii., 419), comparing
Wellington with Soult, remarks : " Wellington possessed in a high
degree that daring promptness of action, that faculty of inspiration,
. . . with which Napoleon was endowed beyond all mankind.
It is this which especially constitutes military genius."

CHAPTER IX
THE CONGRESS OF VIENNA — QUATRE BRAS-
WATERLOO
Wellington made a Duke in 1814 — He is sent' as Ambassador to
France — His position at the Congress of Vienna — Napoleon's
escape from Elba — He regains the throne — Conduct of the
Allies — The Hundred Days — Weakness of the Emperor's Gov
emment — His military preparations — The allied plan of cam
paign — Wellington proposes to invade France — Napoleon's plan
of campaign — Concentration of the French army on the Belgian
frontier — The operations of June 15, 18 15 — Napoleon fails to
attain fully his objects, but gains a distinct advantage — Blucher
hastily advances to encounter Napoleon with only part of his
forces — Delays of Wellington — The battle of Ligny — The
D'Erlon incident — Bliicher is defeated, but not destroyed — The
Battle of Quatre Bras — Misconduct of Ney on the i6th of June
— Tactics of Wellington — Napoleon and the French army on
the 17th of June — Immense opportunity given the Emperor —
Grouchy is detached with a restraining wing — The night of the
17th of June — Operations of the i8th of June — The battle of
Waterloo — Fine defence of Wellington — Rout of the French
army — Grouchy the real cause of the disaster.
WELL deserved honours were showered on
Wellington when he sheathed his victori
ous sword in 18 14. He was raised to
the highest rank in the Peerage, and, as in the case
of Marlborough, was made a Duke ; he was led in
255

256 Wellington
state into the House of Commons, and received
its thanks, which he acknowledged in brief, but dig
nified words ; half a mUlion was voted as a reward
for his services ; he was the most striking figure at
a solemn thanksgiving at St. Paul's ; peerages were
bestowed on three of his best companions in arms.
The troubled state of the Continent erelong required
his presence on the scene of events, in differents
countries. He endeavoured to compose disputes be
tween the Spanish Cortes and Ferdinand, who, hav
ing regained the throne, was reviving absolutism and
the abuses of the past ; his remonstrances and even
threats prevailed for the moment. A more diflficult
mission was then entrusted to him ; he was sent
as the envoy of England to France, where Louis
XVIIL, restored by the right of conquest, was al
ready wearing an uneasy crown. With character
istic insight he was not slow in perceiving the
mistakes and the vices of the Bourbon regime ; his
Correspondence abounds in dry comments on these,
especially on the weakness of an ill-united Govern
ment— "they are ministers," he bitterly said, —
" not a ministry" ; he predicted before many months
had passed that the existing order of things could
not endure in France. His position in Paris, how
ever, became dangerous : he stood, indeed, well with
the King, and the noblesse of the Court ; but the
disbanded soldiery and the populace looked askance
at him ; his life was exposed to the plots of assassins;
Lord Liverpool insisted upon his recall to England.
Before this time, it may be observed, he had turned
his attention to the defence of the Netherlands ; he

The Congress of Vienna 257'
had surveyed the fortresses on the Belgian frontier ;
he had marked out " the entrance of the Forest of
Soignies" as a favourable position for a great defen
sive battle, an augury of what was to be seen at
Waterloo. Wellington replaced Castlereagh during
the later scenes of the memorable Assembly which
met at Vienna to dispose of the spoils of Napoleon's
Empire, and to remodel the map of a transformed
Continent. But though his Correspondence clearly
shows that he had opinions of his own on the mo
mentous questions which were agitating the Euro
pean world, he confined himself to carrying out the
policy of his chief ; he made little or no mark on
what took place at Vienna, at least until the very
last moment. His sympathies were, on the whole,
with a settlement of the Continent which curbed the
ambition of France ; but he approved of the pro
posed alliance between Austria, England, and France,
to check the pretensions of Prussia and the Czar.
Like all the soldiers and statesmen of the Coalition,
he had no inkling beforehand of the portentous
events which were about to convulse the world
again and to lead to the conflict of which the end
was Waterloo.
The Congress of Vienna was about to dissolve
when it received the intelligence of Napoleon's es
cape from Elba. This is not the place to examine
the reasons that led the faUen Emperor to attempt
to recover his throne in defiance of Europe, still
armed against him. That he broke faith with the
AUies is true, and probably he would have made his
wonderful venture in any event : but the Bourbons

258 Wellington
and the Allies had broken faith with him : History
justly condemns a great deal of their conduct. We
may accept WeUington's statement that St. Helena
had not been chosen as a place for his banishment ;
but his forcible deportation had been discussed at
Vienna ; Marie Louise and his son had been taken
from him, by shameful intrigues that cannot bear
the light ; funds promised him by treaty were
wrongfully withheld ; plotters, known to Talleyrand,
seemed to have aimed at his life. His march from
Grenoble to Paris was a triumphal progress ; it
proved how an immense majority of the French
people detested and despised the rule of the Bour
bons ; the Royal authority disappeared on his way;
his advance was that of a mighty influence that
nothing could resist. Hewas at the Tuileries on the
20th of March, 181 5 ; within four weeks he had put
petty risings down, without shedding, it may be
said, a drop of blood ; he had accomplished a Revo
lution to which no parallel can be found ; he was
acknowledged from the Atlantic to the Mediter
ranean as the Sovereign of France. When he first
landed on the shores of Provence even his old com
panions in arms denounced him as an adventurer
engaged in a mad enterprise ; this, too, was WeUing
ton's decided view ; " The King of France," he
wrote, " will destroy him without diflficulty, and in
a short time." As to the leading personages at
Vienna, they turned a deaf ear to what they were
told for some days ; in the phrase of the Corsican
Pozzo di Borgo, Napoleon " was a bandit soon to be
strung up on a tree," But when it had become

The Congress of Vienna 259
too evident that the great body of the French nation,
and that the army, to a man, had rallied around
him, they adopted measures without example in
the annals of the diplomatic world. Napoleon was
proclaimed the outlaw of Europe ; it is idle to attempt
to qualify the phrase ; the overtures he made for
peace received no answer ; war, deadly and universal,
was declared against him. This frantic violence no
doubt may be partly excused, if we bear in mind
what had been the Emperor's career ; but it was
mainly due to the animosities and the fears of a
League apprehensive of having to disgorge what it
had gained ; it is significant that even such a man as
Wellington fully concurred in what was being done
at Vienna. He even signed a treaty which pledged
England to join in the crusade against the ruler of
France before he had obtained the consent of the
Ministry. The brief and tragical period of the Hundred
Days was meanwhile running its momentous course.
The Second Empire of Napoleon, from the nature
of the case, could not be the absolute and uncon
trolled despotism of the First. France had wel
comed him with general acclaim as her chief, but
the prospect of a tremendous struggle with Europe
made large parts of the nation fall away from
him, and separated it into discordant factions. The
Royalists lifted again their heads ; the great Liberal
middle class, though it had thrown off the Bour
bons, began to regard the Emperor with distrust;
the mass of the peasantry had hailed him as a DeUv
erer, but it dreaded the conscription and the return

26o Wellington
of years of fatal war. The stern unanimity of Rome
when she confronted Hannibal at a crisis of her
fortunes wsis not seen ; the Assembly of the Cham
bers and the "Acte additionnel," concessions to the
prevailing ideas of the hour, showed how France
was a house divided against itself, and impaired the
authority of the Head of the State. Disappoint
ment, too, had foUowed illusions ; Napoleon, in his
advance to the capital, had appealed to revolution
ary passions and hopes, but he had no real intention
of satisfying these ; he would not be, he exclaimed,
" the king of a Jacquerie " ; besides, for many and
obvious reasons, his new-made Government was un
stable and essentially weak. He was thrown, in a
word, on a sea of troubles, in which the vessel of
the State could hardly be steered ; nevertheless, his
genius of organisation and his administrative powers
were never, perhaps, more grandly displayed. He
was too clear-sighted not to perceive, from the first,
that the League of Europe was bent on war to the
death, though he endeavoured for some weeks to
obtain peace, and he offered to accept the settle
ment of the Continent made at Vienna. But when
it became manifest that these attempts were hope
less, he addressed himself to the herculean task of
contending against a world in arms. His efforts to
recreate the military power of France, and to place
the nation in a position of defence, were, consider
ing the circumstances of the time, astonishing. The
army, which on his return from Elba could not
send 50,000 soldiers in the field, was raised by him,
within two months, into an active army, nearly 200,-

The Congress of Vienna 261
000 strong, by the middle of June, 181 5, and into an
auxUiary army of greater numbers ; by the autumn
the armed strength of the Empire would have ap
proached the enormous total of 800,000 men. At
the same time, he contrived to find the means to
arm, to equip, and to supply these masses, to a very
considerable extent at least. He had begun to for
tify Paris and Lyons ; he restored the .organisation
of his field army, distributing it into its old divi
sions, and giving it again its revered eagles. Napo
leon, no doubt, had, at this crisis, vast elements of
mihtary force in his hands, in thousands of dis
banded soldiers and their trained oflficers ; and the
nation, exasperated by the threats of its enemies, at
last seconded his exertions with patriotic ardour,
and shook off the apathy and the weakness of the
year before. But what Napoleon accomplished was
not the less wonderful ; it even surpassed his achieve
ments of 1813.'
While the great warrior was making these gigan
tic efforts, the Allies were preparing to overwhelm
their enemy. Their forces were being assembled
from all parts of Europe ; 700,000 men were con
centrated, in June, 1815, to carry the war from the
Scheldt, the Elbe, and the Po, to the Seine. Well
ington, the only one of the chiefs of the League who
had not felt the terrible hand of Napoleon, had
wished to invade France in April with 300,000 men ;

' It is impossible, in a mere sketch like this, to describe Napo
leon's preparations for war in 1815. An admirable and exhaus
tive account will be found in the " iSij" of H. Houssaye, ii.,
1-83.

262 Wellington
his colleagues resolved to follow the general plan of
their operations in 18 14. Four great armies, ad
vancing from Belgium, from the Rhine, from the
Var, and forming a huge semicircle of attack, were
to bear down all resistance and to converge on Paris.
They could not be arrested by partial defeats ; they
would stiffe the disturber of the world in the capi
tal, and speedily bring the contest to a triumphant
close. The situation, as it was thus presented, of
fered two plans of campaign to Napoleon. The en
emies could not reach Paris until the end of July,
and then with not more than 450,000 men, for 150,-
000 would be required to mask the fortresses on
their way ; they could not reach Lyons until about
the same time, and they would not be more than
70,000 strong. In the first case, they would have to
deal with Napoleon, at the head of at least 200,000
men, in possession of both banks of the Marne and
the Seine, and supported by a fortified city with a
powerful garrison ; in the second, they would be op
posed to Suchet, who, with 30,000 men and the re
sources of the second town of France, ought to be
quite able to hold them in check. This scheme of
operation had real promise ; if we bear in mind what
the Emperor achieved in his wonderful struggle of
1814, it afforded reasonable hopes of ultimate" suc
cess. But the plan exposed France to a second in
vasion, and this the nation would not endure ; it
was certain to quicken the intrigues of faction, to
strengthen the Bourbon cause, and to play into the
hands of the League. The second plan was, no
doubt, more hazardous ; but it was in accord with

The Congress of Vienna 263
the true principle of the art of war ; it gave scope to
Napoleon's strategic genius.
The forces of the Coalition formed a huge front
of invasion, extending from the North Sea to the
Mediterranean ; at the edge of this lay the armies
of Blucher and Wellington, spreading over Belgium
and near th'e borders of France. The northern col
umn of the enemies, as it might be called, was thus
widely separated from its supports ; it was possible
suddenly to spring on this, and, when isolated, to
defeat it in detail ; it would then be practicable to
turn against the eastern and southern columns, and
to confront them, with many chances of success.
Napoleon resolved to adopt this plan, in principle
the same as that which led to Marengo and Ulm.
The position of the hostile armies in Belgium was
most favourable, it should be added, to his auda
cious venture. They were disseminated on a great
space of country ; their concentration would neces
sarily take time ; the headquarters of their chiefs
were far apart ; they were dangerously exposed to
an ably directed attack.'
The united armies of Blucher and WeUington
were about 220,000 men. Napoleon had hoped to
faU on them with 150,000; a sudden rising in La
Vendue, however, deprived him of from 15,000 to

' These operations have been admired by all commentators. Well
ington said to Greville (Memoirs, i., 40): "Bonaparte's march
upon Belgium was the finest thing ever done.'' Napoleon (Coot-
ment., v., 198) has remarked: "II trouva ainsi dans les secrets
de I'art des moyens supplementaires, qui lui tinrent lieu de 100,000
hommes, qui lui manquaient ; ce plan fut con9U et execute avec
audace et sagesse."

264 Wellington
20,000 good troops ; he was only able to assemble
128,000, including 3500 non-combatants ; this largely
lessened the chances of an advantageous issue. His
object was to strike the allied centre at the points
where its inner flanks met, and where it would
naturally be most weak; to force it, and to com
pel his antagonists to separate, and to diverge
from each other, giving him an opportunity to at
tack them when apart. The Emperor's first opera
tions were as admirably designed and conducted
as any in his extraordinary career. Four corps
d'arme'e, their movement skilfully masked, ' were
marched along the edge of the Belgian frontier to
the point of junction of the army as a whole; a
fifth corps advanced from the Aisne ; the Imperial
Guard was pushed forward from Paris ; on the night
of the 14th of June, 181 5, 124,000 fighting men
were assembled within a few miles of Charleroy
under the beard, so to speak, of a hardly suspecting
enemy, and directly before a great main road lead
ing from Charleroy to the chief town of Belgium,
and traversing the allied centre, the object of at
tack. Operations began in the early morning of the
15th.' The purpose of the Emperor for this day was
to catch and destroy the corps of Zieten, one of
the four which composed the army of Blucher, and
which lay near the Sambre on either side of Char
leroy ; to hold, as far as possible, the main road in
(orce, and to sei^e the two strategic points of Quatre
Bras and Sombreffe, on the line of the communica-
' For the objects of Napoleon on the 15th of June, see the autl)o;-ir
fles pollected jn my Campaign of iSij, pp. 76, 77.

Quatre Bras 265
tion of the hostile armies, the occupation of these
manifestly being of the very first importance.
The project was one of the finest ever conceived
in war, but the accomplishment of it was far from
perfect. Napoleon expected to have crossed the
Sambre, and to have been master of Charleroy by
noon ; in that event Zieten could have hardly es
caped ; the main road would have been occupied for
miles ; Quatre Bras and Sombreffe would have been
in the hands of the French by the afternoon. But
hesitations and delays occurred, partly owing to ac
cidents common in war, largely to the timidity and
indecision of commanders, who, terrified at the pros
pect of a contest with Europe, did not second as
they ought to have done their great chief. D'Erlon,
on the left, a laggard, we have seen in Spain, was
very late in reaching the Sambre, and did not ad
vance on the 15th as far as was expected from him.
Vandamme, in the centre, was retarded by a mis
chance. The march of the chief part of the army
was checked for some hours. Gerard, too, on the
right, had not assembled his whole corps by day
break ; the shameful desertion of the vile traitor
Bourmont impeded, to some extent, his advance.
Charleroy was thus not attained until the afternoon ;
even by nightfaU a fourth part of the French army
stUl lay on the southern bank of the Sambre. The
corps of Zieten, accordingly, escaped with but little
loss ; one of the objects of Napoleon had not been
realised. The invaders, however, had possession of
the main road for some distance beyond Charle
roy, and Quatre Bras and Sombreffe might, without

266 Wellington
diflficulty, have been seized. But Ney, who had only
received the command of the left of the army at the
last moment, would not employ a suflficient force to
take Quatre Bras ; the point was successfully held
by the enemy, through a mere chance. A dispute
between Grouchy and Vandamme, in Napoleon's ab
sence, prevented the occupation of Sombreffe.
Napoleon had already gained a great strategic ad
vantage, if his operations on the 15th had been in
complete. He had occupied the main road and
gathered near the enemy's centre, as he had cal
culated, the weakest part of their line; he was within
easy reach of Quatre Bras and Sombreffe; he might
hope to divide his adversaries, and to beat them in
detail. The dispositions of Blucher and Wellington
were singularly favourable to this daring offensive
movement. The Prussian chief had learned thatthe
French army was near the frontier on the 14th of
June ; he directed his forces to concentrate on Som
breffe ; but only three of his corps could be at that
place on the i6th, the corps of Bulow being far away
around Lifege. Blucher was thus exposing himself
to the strokes of Napoleon with no more than apart
of a not united army ; and he had no certainty of
support from Wellington, whose headquarters at
Brussels were far from his own at Namur. The con
duct of the British commander gave signal proof
that he did not excel in strategy, especially when he
had to cope with the greatest of strategists. He had
been informed, as early as the loth, that an attack
on his positions was, perhaps, imminent ; but he left
his army as dispersed as it had been before ; he

Quatre Bras 267
would not believe that the aUied centre would be
assailed ; he left the mass of his forces far on his
right, thinking that this was his most vulnerable
point, an assumption very diflficult to understand.
He remained motionless untU the 15th ; by the after
noon of that day, perhaps at an earlier hour, he was
apprised that the allied centre was being threatened;
but practically he did nothing to ward off this
attack. Towards nightfall he assembled his army ;
his right was moved in the direction of his left ; his
reserve was made ready to march from Brussels ; but
not a regiment was sent to the main road, which was
already partly held by Napoleon and would bring
the enemy in full force on the allied centre. A wide
gap thus divided him from his Prussian colleague ;
bu-t happily one of his subordinates, perceiving this,
moved a single small division to Quatre Bras, which
closed the gap to a certain extent, — the distance
was not less than fourteen miles, — and so far might
retard the advance of the Emperor. Late in the
night Wellington gave orders that a large part of
his army should march towards Quatre Bras ; but
these dispositions were hours too late; no great force
could reach Quatre Bras on the i6th; the one weak
division which held that point could not possibly re
sist a powerful attack.'
' For the dispositions of Blucher and Wellington on the 15th of
June, acknowledged by all commentators to have been very faulty,
see the admirable chapter of Mr. Ropes, The Campaign of Waterloo,
pp. 70-115. I may refer to my own Campaign of iSiS, pp. 88-102,
and the authorities there cited. The operations of the day on both
sides are excellently narrated by H. Houssaye, " /.J/y," ii., log-
149.

268 Wellington
We may glance at the positions of the belligerent
armies on the morning of the i6th of June. Ney,
in command of the French left, was at Frasnes, a
little vUlage near Quatre Bras, but with a few hun
dred men only; the other divisions of his army,
under Reille and D'Erlon, extended backwards to
Gosselies and Jumet, a distance, at the farthest point,
of eleven miles. Grouchy, who had received the
command of the French right, was, with part of his
army, near Fleurus, that is only a short way from
Sombreffe ; Napoleon, with part of the centre, was
around Charleroy ; Lobau, Kellermann, and Milhaud
were about to cross the Sambre, in all, about 17,000
strong ; Gerard, now under Grouchy, had half of his
corps still south of the river. On the other side of
the field of manceuvre, Blucher was approaching
Sombreffe, but with only three-fourths of his army;
WeUington was moving on Quatre Bras, but with a
force comparatively small. In these circumstances
the Emperor has been charged with undue delays ;
he ought to have advanced against Blucher at once ;
in that event he could have annihilated the corps of
Zieten, not yet supported by the corps of Pirch and
Thielmann, and isolated between Fleurus and Som
breffe.' If not wholly without foundation, this criti
cism is far fetched " ; Napoleon was bound to assem-
' The authorities on this subject will be found cited in my Cam
paign of 18 IS, p. 104.
* Napoleon returned to Charleroy on the night of the 15th of June;
he was already suffering from the physical decline which affected
him in 1815. According to Gourgaud, Mimoires, i., 502, the Em
peror said he ought to have slept at Fleurus ; this may indicate
that he thought he should have fallen on Zieten early on the i6th.

Quatre Bras 269
ble his army north of the Sambre before encounter
ing enemies nearly double in numbers; anything
like a premature movement might have been dis
astrous. The Emperor, too, from the point of view
he took, — and this conformed to true strategic prin
ciples, — did not expect that his adversaries would
meet him in force on the i6th ; close as he now was
to the allied centre, he did not suppose that Blucher
and Wellington would attempt to approach each
other at Sombreffe and Quatre Bras with only a part
of their armies ; he assumed that they would faU
back, as would have been their most prudent course.
It is plain from his despatches and those of Soult —
the Marshal had been made chief of the French
Staff, an unfortunate choice— that he did not think
he would be seriously engaged on this day ; he be
heved that he would reach Brussels on the 17th;
there was no necessity, therefore, to hasten the ad
vance of his army.' These anticipations were, no
doubt, false in the event ; but what really deserves
notice is, that Napoleon's dispositions for the i6th
were masterly, and ought to have secured him de
cisive success. Ney was ordered to march with his
army to and beyond Quatre Bras, — a single division
was being detached, — and to send another division
to a point called Marbais, where it would be on the
flank and rear of the Prussians, should Blucher be
moving upon Sombreffe. Ney would thus hold
Wellington in check and probably beat him, for the
Marshal would dispose of more than 40,000 men ;
' All these considerations are admirably explained by H, Hou§-
saye, "rSij," ii., 131-134.

270 Wellington
and he would be admirably placed to fall on Bliicher,'
should Blucher attempt to give Napoleon battle.
At the same time Grouchy and the main army of the
Emperor were to march to Sombreffe, and even as
far as Gembloux, and to attack Blucher should the
opportunity arise.
Had Ney carried out his orders as he might have
done, the army of Blucher would have been de
stroyed ; Wellington could hardly have averted a
severe defeat ; the campaign in Belgium would prob
ably have come to an end. But the Marshal " was
not the same man," in Napoleon's phrase ; his de
fection from the Bourbons preyed on his mind ; he
was distrusted by his master and by the army ; he
was fighting with a halter around his neck. It is
impossible to account otherwise for the timidity,
followed by recklessness, of which the ill-fated chief
gave such decisive proof in the conflict of 181 5. He
had been directed, on the 15th of June, to seize
Quatre Bras ; he had faUed to do this through his
own fault ; but the directions of Napoleon remained
unchanged. Ney, therefore, ought to have had his
army ready to advance by the early morning of the
1 6th ; but he allowed ReiUe and D'Erlon to be
motionless for hours. He received the Emperor's
orders for the l6th in the forenoon ; yet he did very
little to conform to them ; he indeed summoned
Reille to Quatre Bras, but very late : he did not send
a message to D'Erlon for a considerable time. No
doubt Reille hesitated and paused, which he should
not have done ; but Napoleon was indignant at the
Marshal's conduct ; he peremptorily ordered him

Quatre Bras 271
again to advance to Quatre Bras, and to drive off any
enemies he might find in his path. This second order
was rather late ; but it might have been carried into
effect, with consequences of the most momentous
kind, had Ney been the daring and energetic warrior
of old. The result of this inaction, nay, of disregard
of positive commands, was unfortunate for the Em
peror in the very highest degree ; it frustrated to a
great extent his consummate strategy. It was not
until two in the afternoon of the i6th that Ney was
within reach of Quatre Bras ; he had as yet only
some 11,000 men in hand; hewas confronted bythe
single division, nearly 8000 strong, which had been
sent to Quatre Bras the night before ; this suflficed
for the moment to arrest the Marshal's advance.
His false operations had saved the allies from dis
aster : and yet even this was not the measure of his
errors on the i6th.'
Meanwhile Napoleon and the greater part of the
main French army had reached Fleurus by noon on
the i6th, a short distance from Bliicher's point of
assembly, Sombreffe. But half of Gerard's corps
had not yet come into line and Lobau was only
breaking up from Charleroy, that is, was still seven
or eight miles away. The Emperor reconnoitred
the ground from the roof of a mill ; he seems at
¦ The misconduct of Ney in the first part of the l6th of June has
been admirably pointed out by Mr. Ropes, Campaign of Waterloo,
pp. 176-188. I can only quote one sentence : " The whole manage
ment of Marshal Ney shows distrust of the Emperor's judgment, un
willingness to take the raost obvious steps, finally disobedience of
orders." See also H. Houssaye, " iSis" "., 185-192. and my
Campaign of 181J, pp. 109-110.

272 Wellington
first to have only descried the corps of Zieten ; but
he soon recognised that a real army was at hand ;
Pirch and Thielmann were advancing in force. His
forecast for the day had thus turned out false ; he
could not reach Sombreffe, and stUl less Gembloux,
without fighting a great battle ; this had been rather
unexpectedly offered by Blucher. Napoleon in
stantly seized the occasion ; Gerard had reached the
scene of action a little after one ; Lobau was ordered
to quicken his march ; the Emperor resolved, when
ready, to attack. Blucher had now arrayed his three
corps on the ground : they formed a most danger
ously extended front, from Wagnelde on the extreme
right, to the centre, Ligny, and thence to Sombreffe,
and to Tougreidnes and Balatre on the extreme left;
for Blucher sought to join hands with Wellington,
and to guard his communications with Namur ; and
though his position was in parts very strong, it was
vulnerable at some points, and was much too widely
held. But this was not all, or even nearly all ; the
Prussian army would be on the rear of Ney; should
the Marshal, as was to be assumed, be in possession
of Quatre Bras ; it would be almost under the guns
of the division to be detached to Marbais ; it was
open to attack in front, flank, and rear ; it might be
nearly surrounded and destroyed. Napoleon felt
assured of a decisive triumph at hand ; he said ' to
Gerard, in whom he placed great trust : " The cam
paign may be brought to a close in three hours. If
Ney executes his orders properly not a gun of the
Prussian army will escape : it is entrapped in a fatal
'Napoleon, Comment., v., pp. 140-141.

Quatre Bras 273
position." From another point of view Wellington
augured very ill of the fortunes of his colleague in
the battle at hand. The British General had has
tened from Quatre Bras to meet Blucher; he pro
mised to assist him if this was in his power ; but it
is not true, as German writers have alleged, that
Blucher was about to fight with the certainty of his
ally's support ; his own correspondence proves the
exact contrary. With his fine tactical insight, Wel
lington had perceived a bad mistake in the disposi
tion of the Prussian army ; the reserves, arrayed on
high uplands, were most wrongly exposed. He re
monstrated in vain with the stubborn old chief ; as
he rode from the field he drily said to his staff : " If
they fight here they will be damnably mauled."
The battle of Ligny began at about three in the
afternoon. The Prussian army was some 87,000
strong; the French, including the corps of Lobau,
some 78,000 ; but the French had a superiority in
cavalry and guns. The plan of Napoleon's attack
was perfectly designed ' ; Vandamme, supported by
a division of Reille, detached for some time, was to
fall on Bliicher's right, which was greatly exposed ;
Gerard, with the chief part of his corps, was to storm
Ligny ; Grouchy was to hold Bliicher's far-extended
left in check. These attacks might be expected to
break the enemy's front, badly placed on the ground,
and stretching much too far ; but they were to be
combined with the decisive onslaught, to be exe
cuted by Ney, on Blucher's flank and rear. This
' Napoleon at St. Helena triumphantly demolished the petty criti
cisms made on this project (Comment., vi., 146-147).

2 74 Wellington
last was to be the mortal stroke ; had it been struck
there would have been an end of the Prussian army.
Napoleon spared no pains to make its delivery as
sured ; at two he had sent off a message to Ney
directing him to attack " a Prussian corps " on his
right ; at a quarter after three he despatched an
other message, telling the Marshal " to envelop the
flank and the rear of the Prussian army." ' Soon
after this he was informed by Lobau that Ney was
fighting a battle with Wellington ; the roar of can
non at Quatre Bras was, indeed, proof of this. The
Emperor accordingly summoned D'Erlon to his own
field — D'Erlon was still at a distance from Quatre
Bras, in the rear — ordering that general to march
on " St. Amand, near Ligny " ; that is, to strike
Bliicher's flank with his corps, 20,000 strong. A staff
oflficer was the bearer of this order ; a duplicate was
sent to Ney by a second staff oflficer.'
The conflict at Ligny raged for two or three
hours, without leading to decisive results, though
the Prussian army was, on the whole, worsted.
Vandamme mastered St. Amand, and drew near
Wagnel6e, on Blucher's extreme right ; the veteran
' The expression " Prussian corps " instead of " army," has puz
zled commentators. The word was probably a mistake of Soult,
a bad chief of the staff in the campaign.
" The D'Erlon incident, as it has been called, has been the sub
ject of much controversy, for it had a most important bearing on the
results of the campaign. I have never doubted that Napoleon gave
the order as above mentioned. See my Great Commanders of Mod
ern Times, p. 329, and Disputed Passages of the Campaign of 181$
(English Historical Reijieiv, January, 1895, p. 68). H. Houssaye
has set the question at rest ("j8ij," ii., 162-163) ; but I do not think
the text of Napoleon's order is genuine (ibid., ii., 201).

Quatre Bras 275
warrior was all but turned and outflanked. Gerard
attacked Ligny, which had been partly fortified ;
the position was one of considerable strength; it
was taken and retaken after furious efforts ; no
quarter was asked for or given by troops animated
by savage national hatred. Meanwhile Grouchy
successfully engaged Thielmann, and was able to
paralyse a superior force by demonstrations which
held his enemy fast to the spot. The fight was
desperately contested along three-fourths of the
line, but the losses of the Prussians were much
greater than those of the French ; as Wellington
had foreseen, their reserves were cruelly stricken ' ;
and Bliicher was compelled to employ a consid
erable part of his reserve against an army much
more skilfully arrayed on the field. It was now
about half-past five o'clock. Vandamme sent a
report to Napoleon that a large hostile column
was advancing against his ffank and rear towards
Fleurus, and that he would be driven from his po
sition if he was not reinforced. The Emperor de
spatched an aide-de-camp to find out how the matter
stood ; this oflficer returned, in rather more than an
hour, announcing that the apparition was that of the
corps of D'Erlon, which, we have seen, had been
summoned to the field of Ligny. Erelong the great
mass of this force was seen to disappear. This most
untoward accident saved Blucher. Had D'Erlon
marched to St. Amand, as he had been directed,
the Prussian army must have been overwhelmed.
It is now tolerably certain how this did not happen.
' Napoleon also noticed this. Comment., v., 144.

2 76 Wellington
D'Erlon received the order sent by the staff oflficer ;
he turned aside from the roads to Quatre Bras to
wards Ligny ; but the order was not sufficiently pre
cise.' He marched on Fleurus, not on St. Amand ;
that is, he seemed to be threatening the French, not
the Prussian army. Napoleon, trusting to the mes
sage from Vandamme, appears to have accepted a
mistake as a fact ; but it remains a mystery why
he did not bring up D'Erlon to the field, when the
aide-de-camp had ascertained that D'Erlon was at
hand. Many surmises have been made to account
for this ; but it seems most probable that the Em
peror, losing his presence of mind in the confusion
of a great battle, unaccountably missed the occa
sion. All that is certain is, that the message to
D'Erlon was badly worded, and that Napoleon's ac
count of this incident is very obscure ; he seems to
have felt that a great mistake had been made.'
The march of D'Erlon, announced to be that of an
enemy, had caused great disorder in Vandamme's
columns ; they lost much of the vantage ground they
had gained. By this time Blucher had learned that
' This was another instance of the negligence of Soult, as chief of
the French staff, repeatedly seen in the campaign. Soult was natur
ally indolent, and had little or no experience of this most important
office. ^ Napoleon's narrative of the D'Erlon incident will be found in
Comment., v., 142. In Gourgaud's Mimoires, i., 174, the Em
peror is made to say: " Le mouvement D'Erlon m'a fait bien
du tort ; on croyait autour de moi que c' etait I'ennemi." In my
Great Commanders and Disputed Passages I have come to the con
clusion that a mistake was made by Napoleon, and this is the view
of H. Houssaye ("i8is," ii., 203; see also my Campaign of iSij,
p. 145).

Quatre Bras 277
he could expect no help from Wellington, engaged
for hours with Ney at Quatre Bras ; but the old
chief thought his opportunity had come. He made
a desperate onslaught on Vandamme, collecting all
the available troops at hand ; his object was to out
flank the French left, perhaps to drive it into the
defiles of the Sambre. The attack, supported by a
great part of the Marshal's reserve, was formidable,
and not far from successful ; Napoleon was obliged
to send part of the Imperial Guard to the aid of
Vandamme : this reinforcement brought the attack
to a stand. The Emperor now made ready for a
decisive counter-stroke ; he could no longer hope to
annihilate Blucher ; but he had the means at hand
of winning the battle. The Imperial Guard and the
horsemen of Milhaud, sustained by the divisions of
Gerard, were launched against the Prussian centre at
Ligny ; this was now held by a small force only, for
the Prussian reserves had been wasted and greatly
weakened, and large detachments had been made to
join in the attack on Vandamme. The result, in
the expressive language of Soult, was " like a trans
formation scene at a theatre." Ligny was carried,
after a short resistance ; the Prussian army was rent
asunder; Bliicher was unhorsed in a cavalry mel^e;
he owed his life to a devoted aide-de-camp. The
exulting French had soon taken possession of the
ground held by their defeated enemies; but these
fought fiercely to the last moment, and fell back a
short distance only. The Emperor, in a word, had
gained a victory ; but tHis was not the complete and
absolute triumph which unquestionably would have

278 Wellington
been seen had D'Erlon fallen on Bliicher's flank or
rear'; in that event, Soult wrote, without exagger
ating the facts, that " 30,000 Prussians would have
been made prisoners." The losses of the French
were about 11,000 men ; those of the enemy 18,000
kiUed and wounded ; and from 8000 to 12,000 flying
troops disbanded.'
Meanwhile Quatre Bras had been the scene of a
combat, fierce and well contested, but unlike Ligny.
It was a little after two on the i6th of June, when Ney
began his attack on this important point, which he
ought to have occupied and passed many hours be
fore. Perponcher, the general who had so happily
sent his division to Quatre Bras on the 15th, had with
his chief, the young Prince of Orange, made their
preparations to resist the enemy. The ground tra
versed by the great main road from Charleroy to
Brussels, but protected by woodland and two or three
large farms, was favourable to the defensive as a
whole, and Perponcher and the Prince had skilfully
arrayed their men ; but these were unable to with
stand the onset of the French ; by three Quatre Bras
was almost in the grasp of Ney. The Marshal,
nevertheless, had been held in check for an hour,
and this had been a godsend for the Allies; Per-
poncher's division may have been a forlorn hope,
but it had been a forlorn hope of the very
greatest value. About half-past three, WeUing-
' The account of the battle of Ligny, by Clausewitz, is very able
and brilliant, but very disingenuous. The historian conceals the
truth as to what must have been the' result had D'Erlon fallen on
Blucher ; see, too, the admirable remarks of Mr. Ropes, The Cam
paign of Waterloo, pp. 163-175.

Quatre Bras 279
ton, returning from Ligny, had most fortunately
reached Quatre Bras ; Picton's division and other
detachments had reached the field by this time; but
Ney had been joined by the mass of Reille's corps :
he disposed of from 18,000 to 19,000 men, and was
very superior in cavalry and guns; the situation
had become " most critical " for the British com
mander. Wellington, however, an eye-witness has
said, was " as cool as ice " ; his dispositions for
the defence were, as always, excellent. Picton
and his soldiers successfully held their ground
on the left ; but the Dutch, Belgian, and Ger
man auxiliaries, who formed a large part of the
Duke's army, were distinctly beaten at the cen
tre and on the right; and though Wellington was
again reinforced, the tide of battle was still turn
ing against him ; he must have been overwhelmed
had Ney concentrated his forces, as he might have
done, by the early afternoon of the i6th at latest.
It was now about half-past five o'clock ; the Mar
shal had just received the message sent by Napoleon
at a quarter after three, directing him to " envelope
Bliicher's flank and rear" ; how he had failed to sec
ond his great master's designs ! Ney could not now
hope to do the Emperor's bidding ; he was held in
check at Quatre Bras by WeUington ; D'Erlon and
his corps were far from the scene ; only a part of
KeUermann's cavalry, which had been placed in his
hands, was on the spot. Ney acted with precipitate
haste ; he launched a single brigade of Kellermann
against the enemy, a useless and ill-conceived effort;
the steel-clad horsemen made a very fine charge ;

28o Wellington
but their onset was fruitless, and they were erelong
repulsed. During this episode in the conflict, or about that
time, a superior oflficer, sent off by D'Erlon, had in
formed the Marshal that his chief had been sum
moned to join Napoleon. Ney ffamed out into
indignant wrath ; he forgot that D'Erlon had re
ceived the Emperor's orders, and that D'Erlon was
too far off to be of any use at Quatre Bras ; he per
emptorily enjoined his lieutenant to come to his aid.
D'Erlon very injudiciously obeyed this command ;
clearly he ought to have done what Napoleon had
told him to do ; he could have made Ligny a decisive
victory for France ; he was too late to reach the
Marshal in time. Despite the angry protests of his
own soldiery, he drew off three-fourths of his corps
from where it stood, and marched towards Quatre
Bras ; he left a single division to observe the Prus
sians, a bad half-measure that effected nothing.
Twenty thousand excellent troops, therefore, who
could have crushed Bliicher had they fallen on his
flank, in conformity with Napoleon's orders, or who
would have struck Wellington down, had they been
brought up by Ney to Quatre Bras in time, were
idly moved to and fro between two battlefields, and
did not fire a shot on the i6th of June; Napoleon
probably made a mistake ; but the blame must lie
mainly on Ney, and in part on D'Erlon. The Mar
shall meanwhile had continued to fight at Quatre
Bras ; the staff oflficer who had carried the despatch
in duplicate, directing D'Erlon to march on St.
Amand, had entreated Ney in vain to countermand

Quatre Bras 281
his order : he had persisted in recalling his subordinate
to his side. The evening by this time had far
advanced ; considerable reinforcements flowed into
Wellington, who had conducted the defence with
characteristic skill : Ney was compelled to retreat
to Frasnes ; the losses of the French were about
4300 men ; those of the allies rather a larger num
ber. As we look back at the operations of the day,
Ney, it may be admitted, did one good service ; he
prevented Wellington from stretching a hand to
Blucher. But if we recollect that he was at the
head of an army of more than 40,000 men, and how
great his opportunities were, his conduct must be in
no doubtful sense censured. Had he assembled his
forces in suflficient time, he ought to have been able
to overthrow Wellington, and to detach a force that
would have destroyed Bliicher : nay, had he not im
properly recalled D'Erlon, disobeying flagrantly his
master's orders, Ligny would have been a second
Jena for Prussia. Napoleon has written, without
exaggerating the truth, that he would have " crushed
his enemies on the i6th, had Ney done his duty on
the left." In that event Waterloo would not have
been fought , superior strategy would have pro
duced its natural results.'
The operations of the French on the i6th of
June had been " incomplete," as had been the
case on the 15th. It is simply ignoring plain facts

' For an admirable resume of what Ney might have accomplished
ou the l6th of June, see Napoleon, Comment. , v. , 199, 200. Consult
also the judicious remarks of Mr. Ropes, The Campaign of Waterloo,
pp. 186, 187.

282 Wellington
to deny that, had the Emperor's arrangements been
properly carried out, Blucher would have been
crushed on the field of Ligny, and that Wellington
would have been severely beaten ; a magnificent con
ception of war would have been realised. But if
these decisive results had not been obtained, the
strategic advantage gained by Napoleon, from the
outset of the campaign, had been largely increased ;
and the prospect before him was of the most splen
did promise. He was master of the main road from
Charleroy to Brussels, up to the line of the communi
cation of his foes ; he had broken in the weak allied
centre : Wellington would have to leave Quatre
Bras, as Bliicher had been driven from Sombreffe.
The hostile armies would be compelled to retreat
into an intricate country of woodland and marsh,
where it would be very diflficult to effect their junc
ture, and where this could be made impossible, they
could probably be kept separated and defeated in
detail. But this was only a part of the results ; it
was in the power of Napoleon to achieve a signal
triumph for France on the 17th of June. The Prus
sian army had been badly worsted, and its chief dis
abled : it could not fight a battle for many hours,
and was in retreat ; Wellington could not assemble
4S,ooo men at Quatre Bras, and was far from his
colleague "in the air"; Napoleon was at the head
of more than 100,000 men ; and of these 60,000 were
fine fresh troops. In these circumstances, the Em
peror had the choice of three courses ; all were in
the very highest degree auspicious.' He might
' All commentators are now agreed as to what Napoleon might

Quatre Bras 283
send only a few thousand men to observe Bliicher,
and might fall on Wellington, a short way off at
Quatre Bras, with his own army and that of Ney ; a
disaster must have befallen the British commander.
Or, leaving a small detachment to observe WeUing
ton, he might pursue Bliicher, with the mass of his
forces ; in that event nothing could have saved
Bliicher. Or, finally, in conformity with more
scientific strategy, and with grand examples set by
Turenne and himself. Napoleon might attack WeUing
ton with from 70,000 to 80,000 men, an army that
ought to make victory certain ; at the same time he
might send some 30,000 against Bliicher ; the Prus
sian army, we must bear in mind, had not been de
stroyed, and it might be reinforced by the whole
corps of Bulow. In any of these cases, it seemed
hardly possible but that decisive success would be
obtained. The events of the 17th of June, however, turned
out otherwise ; it is essential to examine how this
happened. To secure the splendid results he might
have secured. Napoleon should have been equal to
himself, and should have shown his characteristic
have achieved on the 17th of June. Reference may be made to the
authorities cited in my Campaign of 181J, p. 156; and see Ropes's Cam
paign of Waterloo, pp. 197-200, an excellent resume. Of the three
alternative operations Soult, who knew what British soldiers were, pre
ferred the first ; he wished every available man to be directed against
Wellington. II. Houssaye, " iSij," ii., 240. According to Gour
gaud, Mimoires, i., 197, Napoleon accepted this view after Waterloo.
Clausewitz has written that the second alternative would have been
the best, but this is more than doubtful. The third alternative was
the most correct in pure strategy ; it was adopted by Napoleon, but
too late ; and the execution of it was utterly mismanaged.

284 Wellington
energy and resource, usually seen in following up
victory. He ought to have had reports from his
lieutenants at Ligny and Quatre Bras as to the state
of his army before retiring to rest ; he ought to
have had his troops ready to march against Bliicher
or Wellington by the early morning of the 17th;
this was only what was to be expected of him. Un
fortunately, at this juncture he lost many hours; he
was in a state of inaction for a not inconsiderable
time ; this is acknowledged by his friendly as well as
his hostUe critics. He went back to Fleurus after
the defeat of Bliicher, completely exhausted by the
work of two days ; and though he gave general di
rections for the pursuit of the Prussians, he saw no
one until six or seven in the morning of the 17th.
This conduct was so utterly different from the ex
traordinary activity of other campaigns that there
must have been a real cause for it ; this, I believe,
was the state of Napoleon's health, which had been
in decline for many months, especially since his re
turn from Elba. Not that his genius did not often
shine out in full force, or that he was not still ca
pable of great exertion ; but he was subject to two
distressing ailments and to a kind of lethargy which
occasionally made him good for nothing.' There is
cogent proof that this was the case with him on the
night of the i6th' ; this accounts, and can alone ac
count, for his seeming remissness. Meanwhile, the
Prussians after Ligny were not even observed ; it

'For the state of Napoleon's health in 1815 see the authorities
in my Campaign of 181^, pp. 164-166.
' Dorsey Gardner, Quatre Bras, Ligny, and Waterloo.

Quatre Bras 285
was assumed that they were utterly routed ; care
lessness and negligence ran riot in the camp of the
victors ; worse than all, Ney and Soult did not com
municate with each other, as was their obvious duty.
The Achilles of war, whatever the cause, was thus
slumbering in his tent; his whole army and its
chiefs were reposing in thoughtless confidence. It
is unnecessary to say how dangerous this was in the
presence of two such men as Bliicher and Welling
ton ; the first always indomitable in adverse fortune,
the second prompt, skilful, and daring, when his ad
versary was before him.
A letter from Soult to Ney — dictated, no doubt,
by the Emperor between seven and eight in the
morning — was the first sign of life shown by the
French army on the 17th of June. This important
despatch announced thkt " the Prussian army was
routed " ; it added, among many other things, that
the French army was to make a halt for the day ;
unquestionably it had suffered a great deal.' Mean
while the Emperor had sent two of his cavalry chiefs
after Bliicher; he reached the field of Ligny be
tween nine and ten ; he was received with enthusi
astic acclaim by his troops ; but he was obliged to
await for a time the report of his horsemen. These
informed him that the Prussians were falling back
towards Namur and Lifege, that is, on the line of
their communications with the Rhine ; but that a
large body of the enemy had assembled around
Gembloux, that is, near a vUlage some eighteen
'This despatch will be found in La Tour d' Auvergne, Water
loo, pp. 211-213. It is, I think, conclusive as to the D'Erlon incident.

286 Wellington
miles from Brussels, but almost parallel with Quatre
Bras; this would show that Bliicher may have di
vided his forces, but that he was, perhaps, thinking
of drawing near Wellington. The lame and impo
tent conclusion of a halt was abandoned ; Napoleon
instantly resolved to attack WeUington, taking with
him every man he could spare from Ligny ; a mes
sage was sent to Ney to join in the attack. At the
same time, that is, before noon. Grouchy was to be
detached, with a considerable restraining wing, to
pursue Bliicher and to hold him in check, and, as a
matter of course, to keep him away from Welling
ton. These operations were in accordance with true
strategy, especially having regard to the probable
strength of Bliicher ; but they were undertaken late ;
p'recious hours had been lost ; success, which ought
to have been made certain, had been rendered doubt
ful ; nay, there were chances that Fortune might be
come adverse. The orders given to Grouchy were
of supreme importance ; they have been angrily dis
cussed, but their import is plain. In an interview
with the Marshal, the Emperor told him that his
mission was to reach and to attack Blucher ; that he
was to communicate with headquarters by the road
from Namur to Quatre Bras ; the Emperor all but
certainly added that Grouchy was to hold a position
intermediate between the Prussian army and his
ovvn, which, if possible, was to attack Wellington in
front of the forest of Soignies. In a despatch sent
a little later Napoleon ordered Grouchy "to march
to Gembloux with the mass of his forces'"; he
' The orders given to Grouchy on the 1 7th of June have been the

Quatre Bras 287
added significantly that WeUington and Blucher
might be trying to unite, and to endeavour to fight
another battle.'
The French army was now divided into two
groups ; the first, some 72,000 strong, with the Em
peror at its head, was to attack WeUington ; the sec
ond, not quite 34,000 men, under Grouchy, was to
pursue Blucher. Napoleon reached Quatre Bras at
about two in the afternoon; Ney had not stirred from
his camp at Frasnes ; his master was incensed that
he had made no movement ; he had again set posi
tive orders at nought. But Napoleon and Ney
could not, for many hours, have made any real im
pression on Wellington's army. The Duke — here
different from his great antagonist — had been in the
saddle from the early dawn of the 17th; he had been
informed of the defeat of Ligny, and of the line of
the Prussian army's retreat ; he resolved to fall
back on a parallel line ; but told the aide-de-camp,
sent by the chief of Blucher's staff, that he would
accept battle at Waterloo, on the i8th of June, if
he had the support of one or two Prussian corps
d'arm^e. Wellington's retreat was begun at ten in
the morning ; it was admirably conducted, and with
perfect steadiness ; the Emperor was a great deal
too late. A body of British cavalry, however, had
subject of endless controversy by commentators. See H. Houssaye,
" 181S," ii., 225 ; Thiers, vi., 470 ; my own Campaign of iSiJ, pp.
168-170. ] oraim, Pricis de la Ca?npagne de i8ij,^f. 188, i8g, has
no doubt as to Napoleon's meaning.
' As to this most important order reference may be made to the
admirable remarks of Mr. Ropes, The Campaign of Waterloo, pp.
209-211.

288 Wellington
screened the movement, and still continued at Quatre
Bras; Napoleon pushed his own cavalry forward,
and vehemently directed the pursuit in person. But
only insignificant skirmishes took place ; the pur
suit, in fact, was to no purpose ; and, besides, a tem
pest of rain which flooded the country had made
military operations well-nigh useless. By seven in the
evening the French squadrons had reached the up
lands of La Belle Alliance, in front of the position
chosen by Wellington ; Napoleon ordered a charge
to be made ; the thiinder of many batteries made
him aware that he had a considerable army before
him ; in fact, Wellington had assembled the greatest
part of his forces. " What would I have given,"
the Emperor exclaimed, " to have had the power of
Joshua, and to have stayed the march of the sun ! " '
But the march of the sun had not been turned to
account in the morning ; a great opportunity had
passed away.
Meanwhile Grouchy, with nearly 34,000 men, had
been on the march to pursue Blucher. His move
ments, however, had been extremely slow ; his mas
ter had advanced not far from twenty miles on the
17th ; he had not advanced more than nine or ten ;
it deserves special notice that part of his cavalry had
come up with the corps of Thielmann, faUing back
from Ligny, and yet did not hang on its retreat, un
pardonable negligence, which may have had great
results. Grouchy had his army around Gembloux by
nine on the night of the 17th, some of his squadrons
being at Sauvenifere, northwards ; during the night
' Comment., v., 200.

Waterloo 289
he received several reports to the effect that Bliicher
all but certainly was at Wavre, a town some fifteen
miles from Gembloux, and about ten or eleven from
Waterloo, on a line parallel to WeUington's army.
We have reached, perhaps, the most important pas
sage of the campaign, for it led to the memorable
events that followed. Grouchy wrote twice to the
Emperor, between ten at night and three in the morn
ing, that he was on the track of the Prussian army,
and that Blucher had assembled it around Wavre ; he
added that should this prove to be the case, he
would follow Bliicher and march on Wavre, " in
order to keep him apart from Wellington" ' ; sig
nificant words, which show that he understood his
mission, and knew what his restraining wing was to
do ; had he intelligently carried out this purpose,
Waterloo would have been a French, not an allied
victory. While Napoleon was thus before Waterloo
and Grouchy was at Gembloux, even now backward,
the Prussian army, beaten as it had been at Ligny,
had effected its retreat in complete safety. As we
have seen, it had not even been observed by its
enemy ; Zieten and Pirch marched northwards by
Tilly and Sauvenifere ; Thielmann, though reached by
the French horsemen, was not molested; Bulow, with
29,000 fresh troops, joined the main army by Wal-
hain and Corry. The whole army, stiU some 90,000
strong, and with from 270 to 280 guns, had assembled

' These despatches will be found in La Tour d' Auvergne, Water
loo, pp. 230, 231, and 318. Grouchy shamefully garbled the first
afterwards, to excuse his own conduct. His works on the campaign
are a tissue of falsehoods.

290 Wellington
round Wavre on the night of the 17th, on both
banks of the stream of the Dyle, its divisions, how
ever, being rather far apart ; that is, it held posi
tions parallel to the field of Waterloo ; but it was at
a considerable distance from the British commander.
This movement was directed by Gneisenau, the chief
of Bliicher's staff ; it has been extolled by the wor.
shippers of success ; but it was really a very imper
fect half-measure. Bliicher was now separated from
Wellington by a long march, through a most diflficult
and broken country; he was not near his colleague
as he had been at Sombreffe ; Grouchy had been de
tached to prevent their junction ; had he been a true
soldier he would have made this impossible.'
We turn to Napoleon on the night of the 17th of
June. The great warrior showed no signs of the
lethargy which had disabled him the night before :
he carefully observed his own position, and that of
the enemy, lit up by a succession of bivouac fires.
His chief thought was how to bring Wellington to
bay : he was afraid that this would be almost im
possible, for rain had continued to fall in torrents ;
but he had resolved to risk a night attack should the
British General decamp. He had been informed
that a Prussian column was not far from Wavre ; but
he gave little attention to this report ; he believed
that Bliicher, severely stricken at Ligny, would not
venture to march on Waterloo; in any case. Grouchy
would hold him in check, and this was to be ex
pected from Grouchy's letters. At the same time
' See, on this subject, the conclusive observations of Napoleon, Com
ment., v., 205.

Waterloo 291
he did not neglect Grouchy ; it may be aflfirmed that
he ordered the Marshal to s6nd a detachment, on the
i8th, to the main French army, faUing on the flank
or the rear of WeUington ; this would be the coun
terpart of the movement that ought to have been
made by Ney on the i6th.' Passing on to the AUies
WeUington had made up his mind to encounter
Napoleon on the i8th. Bliicher, though still suffer
ing from the shock of his fall, had nobly written that
he would join his colleague with his whole army.
Should Wellington and Bliicher once unite, they
would be largely superior to Napoleon in numbers ;
but were there reasonable grounds for supposing that
they could effect their junction in time to baffle the
attack of the Imperial army ? Blucher would have to
make a long and hazardous march from Wavre ; was it
not certain, having regard to the Emperor's strategy,
iUustrated in many splendid campaigns, that there
would be a restraining wing on his way to stop him ?
It should be observed, too, that the allied chiefs
thought that Napoleon had 100,000 men before
Waterloo, and that Grouchy was far away with
15,000 only ; but Wellington had only assembled
70,000, — bad auxiliaries to a large extent, — what
would be his chances in the battle at hand, should
the French attack in the early forenoon, as would
have happened but for a mere accident? The allied
dispositions for the i8th were, therefore, faulty ;

' As regards this order, which was exactly in Napoleon's manner,
see Comment., v., 154, 155, and the authorities cited in my Cam
paign of 181J, pp. 190-236. I am convinced the order was given ;
but it never reached Grouchy.

292 Wellington
Ndpoleon has proved with irresistible logic ' that his
adversaries should not have run the risk of fighting
a great battle before Waterloo ; both should have
fallen back and joined hands near Brussels. This
whole strategy was essentially false ; it may com
mend itself to the courtiers of success ; it cannot
blind the real student of war.
Napoleon's army was nearly 72,000 strong, in
cluding 15,000 cavalry and 240 guns. The Emperor
had intended to attack at nine in the forenoon; but a
large part of his troops was still in the rear ; he had
no notion of making an attack piecemeal. The at
tack, however, might have begun at about ten " ; but
the state of the ground, sodden- with incessant rain,
made the manoeuvring of cannon and horsemen
very diflficult ; at the instance of Drouot, one of his
best oflficers. Napoleon postponed his onset for a
time. Opinions have differed whether this was not
a grave mistake ; the delay was an advantage in
a certain sense, but it favoured a Prussian march
from Wavre ; all that can be said, with certainty, is
that, on the i8th of June, the sun in its course
fought against Napoleon ; Wellington must have
been defeated had the attack been made at about
ten, on reasonably sohd ground. WeUington's army,
we have seen, was composed of about 70,000 men.

'For Napoleon's conclusive reasoning on this subject reference
raay be made to Comment., v., 2x0-211. The passage is unan
swerable and avoided by English and German critics. See also my
Campaign of 181s, pp. 193-194.
' The order for the attack at nine is in La Tour d' Auvergne,
Waterloo, p. 251. Charras most improperly suppressed it.

Waterloo 293
comprising 13,500 cavalry and 159 guns'; but it
was crowded with very inferior levies ; it did not
contain 50,000 really good troops ; it was not nearly
so powerful as the army it opposed ; all the more
reason that its chief should not have accepted battle.
The Duke had made his arrangements for the de
fence at an early hour; with one great exception
they were, on the whole, masterly ; they fully re
vealed the consummate tactician. Ever apprehen
sive for his right, he left 17,000 men near Hal and
had thus greatly weakened his main army ; unques
tionably this v\'as a strategic error '' ; even in the
dispositions he made at Waterloo his right was, per
haps, too strongly occupied. But, as a rule, the
choice of this position had been admirably made,
and the means he adopted to hold it were, in the
highest degree, excellent. The front of his main
battle was covered by a crossroad, leading from
Ohain to Braine le Lend, and forming in itself avery
strong obstacle ; the slopes before it gave free play
to the fire of artillery. Before the position stood
a kind of succession of outworks ; the chateau of
Hougoumont, with its walled enclosures ; the large
farm of La Haye Sainte with its buildings, and the
little hamlets of Papelotte and La Haye ; these were
calculated to break the first fury of the enemy's
' I have taken the figures as to the numbers of Napoleon's and
Wellington's forces from Charras, who has studied the subject with
great care. The English estimate for Wellington, rather more than
67,000 men, omits comraissioned and non-commissioned officers and
bandsmen. ^ AU commentators are agreed as to this. See especially Charras,
ii., 72-73.

294 Wellington
attack. But the most distinctive feature of the posi
tion was this : the reserves were kept behind the ridge
of Mont St. Jean, screened to a great extent from the
fire of the French guns ; this was exactly the oppo
site of what had been seen at Ligny. Wellington
knew what his antagonist had done with this arm,
and had provided most skilfully against its effects.
The ground, too, gave facilities for counter-attacks
always essential in the case of a well -designed
defence. While Napoleon a^d Wellington were thus con
fronting each other, we may glance at the operations
of Grouchy, the evil genius of France on the great
day of Waterloo. He had learned on the night of
the 17th that Bliicher was at Wavre, that is, ten or
eleven miles from his colleague ; he knew that his
mission was to interpose between Bliicher and Wel
lington: he has acknowledged this in his own des
patches. To effect this object was by no means
diflficult ; he should cross the Dyle by the bridges of
Moustier and Ottignies, about nine or ten miles from
Gembloux ; this movement would place him on the
western bank of the Dyle and could be accomplished
before noon,' if reasonable activity were employed ;
the restraining wing would thus be near Wavre, and
on the flank of Bliicher, were the old Prussian chief
drawing near Wellington, and would be in direct
communication with the main French army; Napo
leon's orders would have been Carried out in their
true spirit. Had this been done. Grouchy would
'This is admitted even by Charras, a libeller of Napoleon, ii.,
115.

Waterloo 295
probably have defeated a part of the Prussian army
and certainly would have prevented it reaching
Waterloo ; France would not have had to mourn for
a frightful' disaster.' Unhappily the Marshal, a mere
cavalry chief, adopted an exactly opposite course ;
he advanced along the eastern bank of the Dyle,
making for Wavre, but not interfering with Bliicher" ;
his march, too, was extremely slow ; he was really
playing into the enemy's hands. Meanwhile Bliicher,
not molested or disturbed, was moving on Waterloo
to join his colleague. The movement, however, was
too late, and was retarded by accidents that need
not have happened. Gneisenau distrusted and dis
liked Wellington ; he charged him with misconduct
on the 15th of June; he disapproved of an advance
on Waterloo until he was assured that Wellington
was determined to make a stand. He was ignorant,
too, of the whereabouts of Grouchy ; he thought
that the Marshal had a small force only ; had he
known that Grouchy had nearly 34,000 men he prob
ably would not have sanctioned the march from
Wavre ; and he was the mentor of his aged chief.
The Prussian army, however, was at last on the
march ; but it was greatly and very unnecessarily
delayed. Bulow was moved first, because his troops

' For what Grouchy should have done and what he could have ac
complished in that event, see the authorities collected in my Campaign
of 181S, p. 326. Charras is the only writer who takes a contrary
view. I am the only English writer who has seriously gone into
the subject. — Campaign of 1815, pp. 314-328.
' Grouchy had never had an independent command. Pasquier,
Mimoires, iii., 232, relates that Soult and other generals warned
Napoleon not to give hira one.

296 Wellington
had not fought at Ligny ; but Bulow was on the
eastern bank of the Dyle, that is, farther than any
of his colleagues from Wellington's lines ; Pirch
marched next, and was followed by Zieten ; but
these generals were slow and timid ; they had not
forgotten the defeat of the i6th ; Thielmann was
left behind to defend Wavre. The Prussian army
was thus divided into masses far apart and exposing
their flanks for miles to their foes ; had Grouchy
fallen on these, as he might have done, he could
have stricken Bulow, at least, with effect ; and he
could have kept Bliicher far away from Welling
ton. The French army had taken its ground at about
eleven on the i8th ; the masses of infantry and
cavalry on a front of rather more than two miles,
on either side of the great main road from Charleroy
to Brussels, presented a most imposing spectacle.
Wellington's army, on a more extended front, had
only its foremost line displayed : the reserves were
carefully withheld from view ; it stood motionless
and silent, while the enthusiastic shouts of its enemy
rang out up to the ridge of Mont St. Jean. The
plan of Napoleon's attack was grandly designed,'
but, as we shall see, it was more than once changed ;
and it was badly carried out on this eventful day.
The centre of Wellington at La Haye Sainte was to
be stormed ; this would open to Napoleon the way
to Brussels ; at the same time Wellington's left was
to be turned and forced ; this was the weakest part
' Corapare Jomini, Pricis de la Campagne de 181J, p. 198 ; Char-

Waterloo 297
of the British chief's position. The attack began at
about half-past eleven ; the soldiery of Reille ad
vanced against Hougoumont ; the movement was
intended to be only a feint, to withdraw the attention
of the enemy from the decisive onslaught. But
owing to the passionate ardour of the French chiefs
and their men — conspicuously seen throughout the
day, for the victory at Ligny had turned their
heads — the feint was turned into a real attack;
no marked impression was made on Hougoumont ;
the Duke reinforced the defenders from time to
time ; the assailants perished in hundreds, and were
held completely in check. At about one the Em
peror's grand attack opened ; the fire of a great
battery of eighty guns, so directed as partly to rake
the enemy, searched the centre and the left of the
Allies ; Wellington's front was in some degree
shaken ; the Belgian auxiliaries, too much exposed,
gave way. The corps of D'Erlon, eager to avenge
the i6th, and a division of Reille were pushed for
ward ; the French soldiery swarmed around La Haye
Sainte ; they reached the crest of the Duke's po
sition ; the battle seemed to be almost won. But
three of D' Erlon's divisions had been arrayed in
dense and clumsily formed columns'; they had not,
besides, the support of cavalry ; the superiority of
the hne over the column was seen, as so often had
been the case in the Peninsular War. D' Erlon's
men were furiously charged by Picton and by British
and .Scotch infantry ; the staggering masses were
forced back by degrees ; their defeat was completed
' See Ropes's Campaign of Waterloo, p. 305, and Charras, ii., 25.

298 Wellington
by a magnificent charge of horsemen. At the same
time ReiUe's division was driven from La Haye
Sainte ; and a body of cuirassiers, sent by Napoleon
to the spot, was beaten by another body of British
cavalry. D' Erlon's fourth division was also com
pelled to retreat ; the first great effort of the Em
peror had failed. But Wellington, too, had cruelly
suffered ; Picton and hundreds of his best troops
had fallen ; his cavalry, carried too far in their
triumph, had been half cut to pieces ; his inferior
auxiliaries had shown signs of flinching; the vulner
able points in his position had been searched and
discovered. A short time before the great attack of D' Erion,
Napoleon had cast his eyes over the whole scene of
action ; he saw what appeared to be a kind of cloud
three or four mUes away on his right. His practised
sight perceived that this was a body of troops.
Soult expressed an opinion that this was a detach
ment from Grouchy — significant words of extreme
importance ; the truth was in a short time as
certained. A Prussian oflficer had been made pris
oner ; he reported to the Emperor that the appar
ition was a part of the corps of Bulow, stationed
around the hamlet of St. Lambert ; that Bulow was
on his way to join Wellington ; and that no tidings
had been heard of Grouchy, who, it was assumed,
was moving towards the main French army. This
intelligence, of course, was extremely grave ; Na
poleon despatched Lobau with ten thousand men
to observe Bulow, and to hold him in check ; he
was to take position between St. Lambert and the

Waterloo 299
Emperor's right flank. It appears certain, however,
that, at this moment. Napoleon had little or no fear
for himself ; he was rather apprehensive that Bulow
might intercept Grouchy, supposed to be on the
march to the French lines at Plancenoit. He cer
tainly expected Grouchy to be not far off, if the
Marshal was not keeping Blucher away from Wel
Ungton ; this would be in conformity with his own
orders ; and all but certainly he had directed
Grouchy, on the night of the 17th, to send a detach
ment to his aid. Besides, Napoleon had, on the
morning of the i8th, despatched a body of horse
men and a special messenger, towards the bridges of
Moustier and Ottignies, in the assurance that Grou
chy was crossing the Dyle at these points ; he told
the special messenger that the Marshal was already
at hand. Nor is there anything in an ambiguous des
patch from Soult to make an impartial critic reject
this inference. In reply to the letter from Grouchy,
written at three in the morning lof the i8th, Soult
said that his master approved " of the march on
Wavre " ; but he ordered the Marshal to " manoeuvre
in our direction " ; and he positively commanded
him to advance to the battlefield of Waterloo.
The meaning, badly expressed as it was, was
obviously that Grouchy was to move on Wavre, but
by the western bank of the Dyle, so as to keep
Blucher apart from Wellington ; in any case he was
to make his way to the Emperor. Soult added in a
postscript written after the prisoner's report, that
Bulow was threatening Napoleon's right flank, and
that Grouchy was " to attack and crush Bulow," a

300 Wellington
clear proof that Grouchy, it was believed, was
near.' The attack of D'Erlon had been repulsed at about
three; before that time Napoleon had received in
telligence from Grouchy of the most ominous kind.
The Marshal wrote from Walhain, a village some
eight miles from Wavre : he was advancing by the
eastern bank of the Dyle, that is, far away from the
Imperial army ; he did not exactly know what had
become of Bliicher. Napoleon, therefore, could ex
pect no support from Grouchy ; he would have to
meet the attack of Bulow on his right flank ; he
would have to continue the great fight with Welling
ton. He immediately changed the plan of his battle:
he could not now hope to turn the Duke's left, for
this would imperil his own right; he ordered Ney,
who had the chief charge of all the attacks, to storm
La Haye Sainte at any cost, that is, to effect a lodg
ment in the enemy's centre, but to maintain him
self in that point of vantage until he, the Emperor,
should dispose of Bulow." Under the cover of an in-
terise cannonade, which greatly ravaged Wellington's
troops, Ney succeeded in mastering La Haye Sainte,'
but, as had been the case on the i6th, he again dis-

' I have endeavoured to reconcile the very conflicting evidence and
judgments on this most important passage of the battle of Waterloo.
The authorities will be found collected in my Campaign of iSiS, pp.
232, 236, and see the text.
''Gourgaud's Campagne de 181^. Jeiome's Mimoires, vii., 22.
'As to the capture of La Haye Sainte, see the authorities collected
in ray Campaign of 181S, p. 256. It is very important, if possible,
to fix the time, but the evidence is conflicting. From the cpurse of
the battle I believe it was four or half-past four.

Waterloo 30 1
obeyed his orders. The Marshal thought he per
ceived signs of retreat on the part of the enemy;
no doubt many of the weak auxiliaries were in full
flight ; in a reckless moment he launched some 5000
horsemen, despite the entreaties of their own chiefs,
against WeUington's right centre, stiff quite un
broken. The onset of these brave troops was very
fine ; but it was not supported by infantry or guns ;
the Duke was fully prepared to resist the attack ; it
failed against the British and German Legionary
squares. Meanwhile Napoleon had been fiercely
engaged with Bulow ; Blucher, fearing for the re
sults of the day,' fell on Lobau with 29,000 men.
Napoleon was obliged to detach the Young Guard
against the advancing enemy, already menacing his
right and even his rear at Plancenoit. This attack
was for the moment beaten back ; the Emperor has
tened to the main field of battle, and was indignant
at seeing what Ney had done. " The madman ! " he
exclaimed, " he is ruining France for the second
time" ; but he decided that Ney's movement must
now be sustained." He allowed the Marshal to en
gage nearly his whole cavalry; but he asserted,
to the last hour of his life, that he directed a con
siderable reserve to be kept intact.^ The charges of
' See the Prussian official account of Waterloo, Campaign of iSis,
p. 265.
' As to Ney's premature and raost unwise cavalry attacks, see the
authorities in my Campaign of i8is, pp. 258-259. They were un
questionably raade against Napoleon's orders.
'See Comment.,^., 177; vi., 150, and H. Houssaye, " /cy/j-," ii.,
364. As to keeping a reserve intact, see the above and Gourgaud,
Mimoires, Passim,

302 Wellington
these masses of horsemen, from 11,000 to 12,000
strong, were magnificent and repeatedly pressed
home ; but again they were very ill supported '; the
Duke strengthened his right centre with character
istic skill ; the proud squadrons were again beaten
off by squares, which a brave enemy has written
seemed rooted " in the earth" ; but thousands of the
auxiliaries were fugitives along the main road to
Brussels. During this time Bulow had again fallen
on Napoleon's right ; the Emperor sent a part of the
Old Guard to withstand the attack ; this effort was
for the present successful ; the Prussian columns
recoiled, and even disappeared. But the attacks
made by Ney had once more failed ; the flag of
England still waved along the ridge of Mont St.
Jean, though Wellington's centre at La Haye Sainte
was in the gravest peril."
It was now about seven in the evening ; the result
of the battle still hung in suspense. Napoleon had
hopes that he could yet gain a victory, but he must
have felt for hours that this could be only a victory
in name. The attack of Bulow seemed to be spent;
the cannon of Grouchy vvere heard at Wavre ; the
Marshal surely could keep Blucher back ; the centre
of Wellington had been weU-nigh broken ; fugitives
were choking the great main road in thousands.
The Emperor resolved to make a last effort with the
Imperial Guard ; but he could not dispose of more
than half of that noble force ; the other half was

' See on this point the judicious remarks of Mr. Ropes, The Cam
paign of Waterloo, pp. 272, 273.
'•^ Shaw Kennedy, an eye-witness. Battle of Waterloo, p. 124,

Waterloo 303
protecting his right flank from the Prussians. But
Wellington had a better prospect of success; his
British and German Legionary soldiers had held
their ground ; he ,had a considerable reserve con
cealed from his enemy ; above all, he knew that
Zieten and Pirch were at hand to support Bulow.
Six battalions of the Guard were told off forthe final
attack ; these were placed under the command of
Ney, but they were directed against the Duke's
right centre, his strongest point, not against his
gravely endangered centre ; four battalions were to
second the movement ; these were to be led by
Napoleon in person. The Guard did all that brave
men could do ; they even gained some trifling suc
cess ; but theyhad not much infantry and no cavalry
on their flanks ; they were overwhelmed by Welling
ton's admirably husbanded reserve and part of his
fire and line. The whole French army suddenly
gave way ; the Duke, seeing that the battle had been
won, advanced his shattered army a few hundred
yards ; La Haye Sainte was retaken ; fresh British
cavalry was let loose on the blood-stained field.
Just at this moment Zieten appeared on the scene ;
from 10,000 to 12,000 Prussians broke the extreme
right of Napoleon ; Pirch seconded Bulow in another
attack; fully 35,000 Prussians feU on Napoleon's
right flank and rear. An appalling spectacle of ruin
was seen ; the beaten army broke up in multitud
inous rout ; the four battahons of the Guard, which
had not been engaged, perished almost to a man,
but refused to surrender. The fugitive host, now a
mere chaos, relentlessly pursued by the triumphant

304 Wellington
Prussians, made its way to Charleroy and crossed the
Sambre ; as an effective force it was practically de
stroyed. The losses of the victors were about 23,000
men, those of the vanquished upwards of 40,000.
Wellington proved himself to be, in the highest
sense, a great master of tactics on the field of Water
loo. With trifling exceptions he arrayed his army
on the fine position of his choice with conspicuous
skill, especially in concealing his reserves ; he con
ducted the battle with admirable activity and re
source ; he was the soul of a magnificent defence.
But his chief excellences were his stern constancy
and invincible endurance in a most fiery trial, and
here no general of the Coalition can be compared to
him ; the Archduke Charles, we may aflfirm, would
have retreated after the fall of La Haye Sainte.
Justice, too, should be done to the British troops.
Napoleon had had little experience of them ; after
Waterloo he recognised their sterling worth ; a
prouder testimonial has never been given to sol
diers.' The tactics of the French in the battle were
faulty : the attack of Hougoumont was a reckless
waste of life ; Ney disobeyed the Emperor's orders,
and " massacred his cavalry," as his master wrote ;
the Imperial Guard was wrongly directed ; the three
arms failed to support each other over and over
again throughout the day. Napoleon was, of course,
in a sense, responsible for all this ; he gave little
proof of the energy of his antagonist ; this may
' ' ' Les Frangais, quoique si inferieurs en nombre, auraient rem-
porte la victoire, et ce ne fut quelabravoureobstinee etindomptable
des troupes anglaises seules qui les empecha.''

Waterloo 305
have been partly owing to the state of his health ;
he was dozing for a time during the attack on
Hougoumont. But we must recoUect, that in the
later part of the i8th, he was fighting two battles
and could not direct the operations as a whole, and
his lieutenants must bear the chief share of the
blame ; he invariably left a great deal to them, espe
cially when they had been engaged in action. Never
theless, in spite of the great quahties displayed by
Wellington, and the steadfastness and valour of part
of his army, and in spite of the tactical mistakes of
the French, Napoleon would have won the battle of
Waterloo, had he been able to employ his whole
forces against the Duke, but his victory, I believe,
could not have been decisive.' The allied army
was very inferior in strength to its enemy : it had
fairly defeated the attack of D'Erlon ; but it could
not have withstood a combined effort made not only
by the Emperor's first line, but by Lobau, the Im
perial Guard, and the powerful French cavalry. The
intervention of Bulow prevented this ; Zieten and
Pirch turned a defeat into an appalling rout. But
Grouchy bught to have made these results impos
sible ; he is mainly responsible for what occurred at
Waterloo. I have already indicated what the Mar
shal ought to have done : had he crossed the Dyle
on the forenoon of the i8th, and made his way on
the western bank, France would have been spared an
immense disaster, very probably would have secured
a victory ; nay, had he not rejected the counsels of
' See the admirable remarks of Mr. Ropes, Campaign of Water
loo, p. 327.

o

06 Wellington

Gerard, who, when the thunder of Waterloo was
heard at Walhain, entreated his chief to hasten to
the field, he would have at least averted the catas
trophe that took place. But he persisted in march
ing on the eastern bank of the Dyle, thus permitting
Bliicher to join Wellington, and not even lending a
hand to his master ; he reached Wavre only to find
Bliicher gone ; he merely fought an indecisive com
bat with Thielmann. Grouchy stands before the bar
of impartial history as the true author of the fright
ful ruin of Waterloo.'
A well-informed survey of Wellington's career
proves that, like Frederick, he did not excel in
strategy. This was strikingly apparent in 1815,
when the greatest of strategists met him in the field.
He was outmanoeuvred at the outset of the cam
paign ; he ought to have been defeated on the i6th
of June; he was in the gravest peril on the 17th ; he
risked too much in making a stand at Waterloo ;
he ought not to have weakened his army by leaving
a large detachment at Hal. Yet he should not be
judged as a strategist by his conduct in 181 5 ; his
veteran colleague forced his hand, especially by his
advance to Sombreffe : had he been the commander
of the two allied armies, he would probably have
united them at Waterloo onthe 17th of June ; and
Napoleon would have been defeated had he at
tacked. His real merit in this passage of arms
was that of a consummate leader of men in battle ;
' I have already noticed the best authorities on the operations of
Grouchy. I would especially refer the reader to Ropes, The Cam
paign of Waterloo, pp. 245-288, and to H. Houssaye, "i8is"
ii., 485-494.

Waterloo 307
this largely atones for undoubted strategic errors.
Justice, too, is due to his aged ally ; Blucher made
many and grave mistakes ; but no other general of
that age, not Wellington himself, would have so
heroically risen superior to defeat, and would have
made the most hazardous march from Wavre to
Waterloo. With respect to Napoleon, the plan of
his campaign was one of the finest ever thought out
in war, and it was over and over again well-nigh suc
cessful, though his enemies were not far from two
fold in numbers. No doubt the Emperor made a
few mistakes ; but in his operations in 18 15 the extra
vagance of the Peninsular War and of x8i2 and 1813
does not appear ; the grandeur of the conception,
and the scientific method characteristic of the first
master of modern war, are manifest in their full com
pleteness. Yet Napoleon met his ruin at Waterloo:
nor is it diflficult to ascertain the causes. Two or
three times victory was within his grasp ; but the
lieutenants in whom he trusted failed him ; Ney and
Grouchy were instruments that broke in his hands ;
he was unequal to himself on the night of the 16th;
his army, too, was not suflficiently strong : due
allowance could not be made for mischances. The
French army, besides, if it gave proof of heroic
valour, on many occasions was an ill-organised and
ill-disciplined army ; the soldiery had little trust in
their chiefs ; the chiefs themselves were to a great
extent demorahsed. Nevertheless the splendour of
Napoleon's genius in war shines out conspicuously
in the campaign ; nor has his renown, as he foretold
would be the case, suffered.

CHAPTER X
THE ARMY OF OCCUPATION — ENTRANCE INTO
POLITICAL LIFE
Wellington and Blucher invade France — Intrigues of Fouche to
effect the restoration of Louis XVIII. — Napoleon practically
deposed by the Chambers — Duplicity of Fouche — He paralyses
the defence of Paris — Envoys sent to Wellington and Bliicher —
Hazardous advance of Bliicher — Wisdom and moderation of
Wellington — The capitulation of Paris — Great position of Wel
lington — He saves France from dismemberment, and does her
other services — He commands the Army of Occupation — He
enters political life in iSiS, and is made Masterof the Ordnance
« and Commander-in-Chief — The period from 1818 to 1827 —
Conduct of Wellington — His attitude to the Irish Catholic and
other questions — His dispute with Canning.
WELLINGTON and Blucher at once invaded
France, the victory of Waterloo had been
so complete, though the other armies of
the Coalition were still distant. The British Gen
eral called in the detachment, which he had left at
Hal, and advanced by the fortresses of the Somme ;
the Prussian Marshal, pressing more boldly forward,
marched .along the western bank of the Oise, leaving
the corps of Pirch behind to conduct sieges. The
object of the two chiefs was to make for Paris, and
308

The Army of Occupation 309
to cut off the now isolated force of Grouchy, which
had effected its retreat from Wavre to Givet, and
was trying to reach the capital by the Aisne; the
movement of its commander, if unduly extolled,
was inteUigent, energetic, and rapid, very different
from his movements on the 17th and i8th of June.
Meanwhile a revolution had broken out in the seat
of power in France which had brought the Hundred
Days to a close, and was attended with portentous
results. Napoleon, at the instance of his chief oflfi
cers, who had too truly told him that he had no
army in his hands, had hastened to Paris to make an
effort to obtain means to continue the war, and
to defend the nation against an invasion now threat
ening its very existence as a State. He rightly said
to his Council that the only chance of safety lay
in the, patriotic union of all Frenchmen, under the
sovereign they had welcomed a few months before ;
and he wished to have a dictatorship, which would
have given him unfettered power for a time. But
France was enervated, divided, appalled by the late
disaster; the Chambers, which he had just convened,
regarded the Emperor with profound distrust, and
were inspired by the revolutionary liberalism of the
day : and at this crisis, they fell under the influ
ence of one of the ablest and most unscrupulous in
triguers of that age. Fouche had long been one of
Napoleon's ministers ; but he was convinced that his
second reign could not last : he had plotted traitor
ously against him during the Hundred Days ; after
Waterloo he saw that a Bourbon restoration was
at hand, and he aspired to be one of its principal

3 1 0 Wellington
leaders. Under his guidance and that of Lafayette,
an ideologist of 1789, the Chambers turned a deaf
ear to Napoleon's requests ; they practically deposed
him by a sudden coup d' dtat ; they extorted an
abdication, nominally in favour of his son, which, he
bitterly exclaimed, was a sorry delusion.
In a few days a kind of provisional government of
France was set up ; Fouch6 contrived artfully to be
made its head ; the one chance, and it was an almost
hopeless chance, of resisting the armed League of Eu
rope disappeared. Napoleon was relegated to hardly
veiled captivity : he was abandoned as he had been
in 1814 ; ere long he was on his way to St. Helena,
the last scene of a strange, eventful history, unparal
leled in the annals of mankind. The Provisional
Government was largely composed of regicides ; the
Chambers were distinctly opposed to the Bourbons.
They despatched envoys to Bliicher and Wellington
who, in the first instance, curtly refused the over
tures that were made for an armistice ; they issued
proclamations calling on Frenchmen to rise up in
arms, and to repeat the national efforts of 1792-94;
as if the circumstances were not wholly different,
and as if the shadow of a government sitting in
Paris could be a second convention reviving the
Reign of Terror. But Fouche judged the position
of affairs correctly; he knew the Assembly, and the
men he had to deal with ; he allowed noisy patriot
ism to vent itself in clamour, indeed seemed to pro
mote it in different ways ; but with great tact and
adroitness, and with duplicity skilfully concealed,
he took care to paralyse every attempt to resist the

NAPOLEON BY A DYING CAMP FIRE,
(From a drawing by Charlet.)

The Army of Occupation 3 1 1
invaders, and steadily plotted to restore Louis
XVIII. to the throne ; his real object was, in 1815,
to play the part played by TaUeyrand the year
before. He refused to give arms to the population
of Paris, already beginning to menace traitors ; the
old Jacobin terrified the Chambers with reports of a
Jacobin rising ; he did nothing to strengthen the for
tified works begun around the capital. He placed
Massena at the head of the National Guard of
Paris, thus giving this force the sanction of an illus
trious name ; but Massena was no friend of the
fallen Emperor ; he had no thought but that of an
inglorious repose, and of preserving the wealth he
had amassed by rapine ; the National Guard, com
posed of the timid bourgeoisie, was soon persuaded
that its real and only mission was to maintain order.
At the same time the astute and base intriguer con
vened a great council of marshals and generals, to
whom he put questions as to the capacity of Paris to
withstand an attack, and as to the favourable chances
of a great national defence ; such a council prover
bially never fights ; and though Davout, Napoleon's
late Minister of War, showed hesitation and made
some ambiguous protests, the council reported in
the negative to both questions, and by implication
declared for the restoration of the King. Mean
while Fouche had continued to send negotiators to
the allied camp, — one, VitroUes, a notorious parti
san of the Bourbons, who had tried to raise armed
levies against Napoleon in the South and was now
released from Vincennes to do Fouch6's bidding.
Blucher and Wellington still rejected an armistice.

3 1 2 Wellington
though some of Blucher's oflficers dropped pacific
hints ; the British commander, with characteristic
wisdom, perceived that it might be possible to treat
on conditions that would bring the war to an end.
Louis XVIII. had joined his victorious army ; his
authority with the King was immense ; he saw, and
rightly saw, that the only hope for France was to
restore the Bourbon dynasty to the throne, though
he declared that there was no wish to force on the
nation a government against its will. He indicated
his thoughts to Fouch^'s envoys : these fell in with
the arch-intriguer's views ; but he also laid down the
conditions which, in a military sense, must be com
plied with, before he could sheathe his sword.
It was strange that one of the greatest and one
of the worst men of that time had accidentally
agreed, though from different motives, in giving
effect to the same policy at this grave conjuncture.
Events singularly concurred to favour the object at
which Wellington and Fouche aimed. Bliicher had
pressed forward far in advance of his colleague :
their two armies had been many leagues apart ;
Napoleon, from his retreat at Malmaison, had in
vain implored the Provisional Government to allow
him to fall on the divided enemies ; he might have
gained a passing triumph, but it could have come to
nothing; at all events Fouche had ideas of a very
different kind. But nothing could stop the im
petuous veteran; he marched on to Paris and
crossed the Seine, to the southern bank, where the
defences of the capital were quite unfinished; he
gave out that he would shoot Napoleon, should he

The Army of Occupation 3 1 3
have the chance; he threatened the Jacobin Cham
bers and the infidel city. This sent a thrill of indig
nation through the mass of the citizens, and even
stirred the Chambers to wrath; they had the means
of making the old Marshal feel their vengeance.
Grouchy had reached Paris with most of his forces ;
the remains of the Waterloo army had been brought
together and numbered perhaps twenty thousand
men; large bodies of troops had been drawn from
depots; volunteers had been suddenly enrolled; in
short the capital was a very formidable object to at
tack. And though Wellington had ere long come
into line with his ally, he only held the northern
bank of the Seine ; their armies were not one hun
dred and twenty thousand strong, and were dis
persed over an immense space ; their enemies stood
between them with ninety thousand men, supported
by a kind of great entrenched camp ; the Prussians
had been routed in a bloody combat ; there was real
danger of a conffict that might have the worst re
sults. The wisdom, the moderation, the statesman
like sense of Wellington were now conspicuously
seen, and, happily for the estate of man, triumphed.
He warned his colleague that the fate of Napoleon
did not depend on generals in the field, but on their
masters ; he quietly deprecated acts of violence and
revenge ; he even informed Blucher that it was by
no means certain that their united efforts would
make Paris fall ; at all events it was common pru
dence to wait for the support of the other aUied
armies. The passionate veteran yielded to these
sagacious counsels; he felt the superior influence of

3 1 4 Wellington
a calm but overmastering mind. In a very short
time the conditions of WeUington were agreed to ;
the French armies were to retire behind the Loire :
the Allies were to occupy Paris, but the National
Guard was to act as the police of the city. It was
understood that Louis XVIII. was to be restored;
the King, in fact, entered the capital three weeks
after Waterloo. Fouche, of course, gladly accepted
these terms ; he had played a hazardous game, and
had won the stake ; but his life had been in no
doubtful peril ; he had been loudly denounced as a
false-hearted traitor.
The position of Wellington, at this juncture, was
one of almost unexampled grandeur; he certainly
was the foremost man in Europe. He was compara
tively unknown, during the Peninsular War, though
his operations had been watched and studied ; he
did not march to Paris in 1814; even at the Con
gress of Vienna he held a secondary place. But he
had forestalled the Coalition in 171 5 ; he had struck
down Napoleon in a decisive battle ; the glory of
this was mainly and rightly ascribed to him. He
had also practicaUy restored the Bourbons, and had
saved France from perhaps an internecine struggle ;
the Allies and Louis XVIII. owed everything to
him. This was the splendid climax of his renowned
career; no English subject, not Marlborough him
self, has ever stood so high in the councils of
Europe. During the three years that followed, he
gave signal proof, in a situation glorious indeed but
diflficult, and which taxed his great powers to the
utmost, of the far-seeing wisdom, the well-balanced

The Army of Occupation 315
judgment, the moderation and the profound sa
gacity which were the distinctive features of his
character on its inteUectual side, but also of his
sterling integrity and strong sense of duty, the most
striking, perhaps, of his moral quahties ; it was well
for the world that it possessed such a man. The
most important of his achievements, at this time,
was that he prevented the dismemberment of France,
and thus averted revolution for many years, and
secured for the Continent a season of comparative
repose. Every member of the Coalition in 181 5
was eager for vengeance on a people which, since
1791, had disturbed and threatened the civilised
world, and had carrried its victorious arms from
Madrid to Moscow ; ambition and prudence seemed
alike to require that the territory of France should
be largely diminished. Austria demanded the resti
tution of Alsace and Lorraine ; Prussia declared
that the Continent would not be safe until France
had been cut up into separate kingdoms ; the sover
eign of Belgium and Holland, just made ofie state,
insisted on having a new barrier, which would in
clude the fortresses of Burgundian Artois : even
Lord Liverpool, a timid and pacific statesman,
thought that France should be reduced nearly
within her limits before the Peace of Westphalia.
WeUington steadily rejected these dangerous coun
sels; in a masterly correspondence he pointed out
that peace was the great need of the Continent, and
that this would be impossible were whole provinces
torn from France ; he laid stress also on the injust
ice of a pohcy of this kind ; and he significantly

3 1 6 Wellington
added that France still possessed more elements
of military power than any state in Europe. His
arguments were attended with success: no doubt
other and potent reasons concurred : but it was
chiefly due to the victor of Waterloo that France
was not dismembered in i8i5,a result very different
from what was seen in 1870-71.
This, however, was not the only service done by
Wellington to France in this eventful period. He
prevented Bliicher from destroying the bridge on the
Seine, which commemorates the Prussian disaster of
Jena. With Castlereagh and, in a lesser degree,
with Nesselrode, he succeeded in cutting down the
enormous charges made by the Coalition for its opera
tions in 181 5, when seven hundred thousand armed
men were quartered on provinces of France. Another
circumstance did him peculiar honour ; his capacity
in civil affairs had been recognised ; he was placed at
the head of a commission appointed to adjust the
compensation due to the allied Powers for their
losses caused by the Revolutionary wars and those
of Napoleon. He acquitted himself of an Her
culean task, involving inquiries diflficult alike and
delicate, with characteristic industry and tact ; he re
duced the compensation to a moderate sum ; he
negotiated a loan to enable France to discharge it.
The great qualities he had shown in council, not less
than his renown in the field, induced the AUies to
give him the command of the Army of Occupation,
as it was called, which, composed of not less than
150,000 men, of different nationalities and tongues,
was charged with keeping the Revolution down in

The Army of Occupation 317
France, and with propping up the throne of Louis
XVIII. In this high oflfice he won the respect of
his subordinates, in every service, including our
own ; he maintained order and enforced discipline ;
but he was remarkably considerate and humane in
the exercise of his immense authority. It is un
necessary to say that he refused the pay and emolu
ments offered him by foreign Powers ; his ideas on
this subject were strict and severe, and were formed
on the noblest standards of duty ; here he presents
a striking contrast to Marlborough, unhappily not
superior to evil corruption. France, it might have
been thought, would have felt what she owed to
Wellington, and now that the animosities of the day
are dead her best historians have honourably avowed
her debt. But he was unpopular with all classes
from 1815 to 1818; the reasons are not diflficult to
seek. The King and the Court were under obliga
tions too great to have a really friendly feeling for
him ; his antagonists in the field were sore and angry;
indeed, he treated them more than once with a kind
of dry discourtesy. Allowance, too, must be made
for the wounded pride and susceptibilities of a great
nation, which rightly saw in WeUington one of its
chief conquerors ; Waterloo was a humiliation not to
be soon forgotten. Plots were again formed against
the life of the Duke; whatever excuses may be
made for it, Napoleon's legacy to Cantillon was an
unworthy act, even though it was done in the agony
of death. Wellington's conduct to Ney has been
severely censured: perhaps he ought to have laid
stress on the capitulation of Paris, the only real

3 1 8 Wellington
defence for the ill-fated Marshal. But, technically,
Ney's guilt could not be questioned, and justice was
more akin to mercy in the nature of the great Eng
lishman, a personality essentially stern and hard, and
seldom swayed by emotions of any kind.
The Army of Occupation was disbanded in i8i8 ;
Wellington returned to England to receive new
honours, and to hold a high place in the national
councils. His great military reputation, the remark
able powers he had shown in the administration of
civil affairs in India, in Portugal, in Spain, and in
France, marked him out for distinction in the service
of the State; the men in power were only too glad to
secure such an ally. He entered the Cabinet of Lord
Liverpool, and, as Master of the Ordnance and Com
mander-in-Chief, was in oflfice until 1827. During
this period England passed through immense changes
in government, in administration, in public opinion,
and in the conditions of public life ; these present
two marked and very striking phases. When Wel
lington joined the Ministry, Toryism of a peculiar
kind was in the ascendent in our foreign and domes
tic policy ; there was no immediate prospect that its
long reign was coming to an end. The Tories had
brought the great war to a triumphant close ; the
Whigs were discredited for their French sympathies.
Tory statesmen, too, had had a part in effecting the
settlement of the Continent made at Vienna ; and if
they gave no countenance to the Holy AUiance, and
to Alexander's fantastic dreams, they had been asso
ciated with Metternich and other pillars of absolute
monarchies. In affairs at home hardly any reforms

Entrance into Political Lif e 319
had been made, for the national mind had been en
grossed by the war ; the aristocracy of the land was
supreme, and it was an exclusive and illiberal aris
tocracy of class ; the House of Commons did not re
present the nation ; enormous abuses were allowed
to flourish ; legislation was far behind the require
ments of the age ; the criminal law was a disgrace to
a civilised State; taxation was oppressive and unjust ;
the life of the ruling classes was selfish and frivolous ;
it had its image in the " First Gentleman of Europe,"
as George IV. was called with unconscious irony.
At the same time vast and important interests had
grown up within a recent period, and yet were of no
account in the State ; Birmingham and Manchester
sent no members to Westminster ; our colossal manu
factures had been established, and with these the
factory system ; a teeming population had come
into being, and this was often in extreme poverty.
Things however, went on tolerably well until the
close of the war turned the attention of thinkers to
this position of affairs, and, above all, until a sudden
and great fall of prices, reducing whole classes to
sheer want, provoked general and widespread dis
content. But the Tory Government had not under
stood the signs of the times : they applied coercion
when they should have found remedies ; they mis
took disorganisation for sedition ; they had recourse
for years to measures of harsh severity to put down
the rebellious spirit, as they called it, of evil-minded
demagogues. The results were seen in suspen
sions of the Habeas Corpus Act, in Peterioo riots, in
Cato Street conspiracies, in criminal prosecutions

3 2 o Wellington
which disgraced their authors, and in the continu
ance of heavy and unfair taxation. The trial of
Queen Caroline clearly brought out how fiercely
popular feeling ran against the aristocracy and the
monarch on the throne. England and Scotland, in
fact, were in a critical state ; many believed a revolu
tion to be at hand.
The second phase of this period marks the begin
ning of a more auspicious era in the affairs of Great
Britain. Not, indeed, that the changes of supreme
importance which took place in the next generation
had as yet been more than partly foreshadowed.
England had not associated herself with Liberalism
in foreign politics, nor had she made a close alliance
with the France of Louis Philippe. The House of
Commons remained unreformed ; it was still the as
sembly of an oligarchy, and of a privileged class.
The landed aristocracy as yet was dominant in the
State ; the interests of manufacture and commerce
were comparatively without their legitimate influ
ence, the institutions of the country still rested on
too narrow a basis. Trade, too, was subject to most
injurious restraints ; the mass of the population was
largely sunk in poverty ; the tone of society in high
places was hardly improved. But a better, a more
enlightened, a more philanthropic spirit was animat
ing the minds of most of our statesmen, and this had
a powerful effect on the national life. Canning did
not exactly break with Castlereagh's foreign policy ;
but, as Metternich clearly perceived, he gradually
transformed it in a liberal sense, as was seen when
his mantle fell on Palmerston. The Whigs slowly

Entrance into Political Life 321
regained their authority in the State ; their leaders
raised the cry of parliamentary reform erelong to
swell into a national demand ; they exposed the
abuses of nomination and rotten boroughs, and de
nounced the corruption and scandals too often seen
in the administration of affairs. The Ministry, too,
became greatly improved ; mediocrities were re
placed by men like Peel and Huskisson ; these per
ceived and to some extent carried out reforms
absolutely essential to the national welfare, espe
cially in relaxing the fetters on trade, and thus
indirectly bettering the condition of the humbler
classes ; in mitigating the atrocity of the criminal
law ; in making justice more humane and popular.
The distress besides, universal and acute, which had
followed the collapse of the war prices, was dimin
ished in a great measure by degree? ; there were no
doubtful signs of growing material progress. And
with this improvement the hatreds and discords of
class, which had separated by a wide gulf the rich
from the poor, became much less than they had
lately been, though too many signs of this great
social evil remained. If the England and Scotland
of 1826-27 were very different from the England and
Sotland of the present day, they were not the dis
contented England and Scotland of i8i6-20.
The changes of this period were also distinctly
apparent in what Macaulay has aptly called "the
withered and distorted limb of the Empire." The
state of Ireland in 18 18 and up to 1821 had, on
the whole, not improved since the Union ; in many
respects it had become worse. Five-sixths of the

322 Wellington
people were as disaffected as ever ; they had the
French sympathies of 1798 ; it was impossible to
govern them without repressive measures. Pro
testant ascendency was supreme in the Church, in
the State, in the Land ; its evils had been aggra
vated by the Toryism of the time, and by the favour
shown to the Orange societies, the embodiment of
the extreme domination of race and sect. The ad
ministration of the Castle was not only exclusively
Protestant, — it was harsh, narrow-minded, severe,
bigoted ; it was worse than it had been under the
extinct Parliament in College Green. Nor had the
representation of Ireland improved; it was, with few
exceptions, selfish and corrupt, and confined to an
oligarchy of creed ; it had but little authority in the
Imperial Parliament. As for the Irish Catholics,
that is, the mass of the people, they remained all
but outside the pale of the State ; O'Connell, no
doubt, had made his influence felt ; but the cause
of Catholic Emancipation, as it was called, though
advocated by Grattan with great eloquence and
power, seemed to have gone back, owing to Catholic
disputes. The social condition, too, of the coun
try made no progress ; absenteeism had increased
since the Union ; landed relations formed on the
ascendency of the Protestant gentry, and on the
subjection of the Catholic peasantry, were essenti
aUy bad, and had perhaps become worse ; disord
ers and outrages were widely prevalent ; coercion
was resisted, often successfully, by organised crime.
The decline in prices, besides, at the close of
the war had made the poverty of Ireland more

Entrance into Political Life 323
general and severe ; teeming millions were on the
brink of starvation; there were seasons of dearth
and approaching famine. After 1821-22 there were
signs of a change for the better in this sad state of
things ; Cathohc Emancipation became the leading
question of the day ; it was advocated ably by the
Whig party, it was supported in Parliament by suf
frages steadily on the increase. The Catholic Asso
ciation, too, was formed ; O'Connell became the
tribune of a people demanding justice ; in fact, as
early as 1825 Catholic Emancipation would have be
come lav/, under liberal and well-conceived condi
tions, but for the perverse bigotry of the Duke
of York. And Protestant ascendency received a
weighty blow ; the Protestant Junta at the Castle
was replaced by enlightened men of a very different
type ; Orangeism was made to feel that it was not
above the law. Inquiry, too, was made into the
social state of Ireland ; the report of a committee
that sat in 1824-25 has thrown a flood of light on this
important subject. Much in the affairs of Ireland
certainly remained very bad, especially in a vicious
land system, and there was a great deal of social dis
order, but the future seemed to be not without real
promise. I shall glance afterwards at WeUington's work in
the army, during the long peace that foUowed the
great war ; for the present I shall notice his position
in the State throughout the period I have briefly
described. His antecedents, his character, his pro
fessional career, naturally identified him with the
Tory party ; he must always be regarded as a Tory

324 Wellington
statesman. He was a scion of the Irish Protestant
noblesse, an exclusive class of extreme Tory views, —
divided from a subject people in race and faith ; he
had been a fast friend of Castlereagh, a thorough
Tory : he had been associated in the most brilhant
period of his life with the leading men of the
Continental monarchies, of whom Metternich was
the master spirit. His nature was unsympathetic
and stern ; far-seeing and sagacious as he was, he
disliked and sometimes misunderstood popular de
mands and movements ; his experiences in the
Peninsula and in France made him an enemy of
Revolutionary Democracy wherever it appeared. As
a great soldier, too, he was fashioned to the habit of
command ; being almost unversed in parliamentary
life, he thought that the State should be ruled like
an army; he believed that a government should be
essentially strong : he occasionally faUed to perceive
the power of the forces political, social, and eco
nomic, which may affect a nation under a constitu
tional regime, and even to interpret the signs of
the time. Yet he was never a bigoted and narrow-
minded Tory of the bad school of the successors of
Pitt ; his wisdom, his prudence, his saving common-
sense, usually taught him when the course of the
vessel of the State required to be changed and
adapted to the exigencies of the hour ; and he pos
sessed in a very high degree the capacity of true
Conservatism in the best sense of the word ; he was
never Quixotic, he was, as a rule, enlightened. And
thus it was that he continued in oflfice supporting
the Government with an authority on the increase

Entrance into Political Life 325
during the two phases of the period to which I have
referred. He held that the Six Acts and drastic
legislation of the kind were unavoidable in the exist
ing condition of England ; he repeatedly condemned
the violent agitators of the day. He also insisted
on the maintenance of order, whatever the cost ;
turned a deaf ear to clamouronthis subject; laid down
excellent regulations for the preservation of the pub
lic peace ; defended functionaries who had fearlessly
done their duty, despite parhamentary and popu
lar protests. He voted, too, with his party during
the trial of the Queen, and even exposed himself to
some special odium ; but it is tolerably certain that
he disapproved of the conduct of the King, and that
he thought the whole proceedings unwise. Never
theless, even in those days of Toryism well-nigh un
controlled, he did not always sanction his colleagues'
acts and measures ; and it is very remarkable that
he strongly urged that Canning should be recalled
to oflfice, and should give a more liberal tone to our
foreign policy.
Two tendencies may be clearly seen in the Liver
pool Cabinet after 1822, that is, during the second
part of this important period. There was a real
Tory and a real Liberal party, and though these re
mained united until the disappearance of their chief,
they were divided on many of the questions of the
day. Wellington remained a Tory, but became a
moderate Tory; he gradually incUned to the more
enlightened policy of the rising generation of states
men. Thus in foreign affairs he did not like the re
cognition of the insurgent Spanish Colonies : he had

326 Welling toH
no sympathy with the struggle of the Greeks for inde
pendence. But, on the whole, he co-operated loyally
with Canning for years : he carried out the Minis
ter's views at Verona, and did excellent service at
that Congress ; he endeavoured to prevent the Bour
bon invasion of Spain, undertaken to maintain the
sinister power of Ferdinand ; he averted for a time
a war between Nicholas and the Turk. In domestic
affairs he upheld the existing Corn laws, supposed to
be a mainstay of the aristocracy of the land; he
steadily set his face against reform in Parliament.
But he advocated most of Huskisson's fiscal and
commercial measures, all tending to the expansion
of trade, and to the prosperity of the nation as a
whole ; he cordially supported the mitigation of the
bad criminal law and the establishment of a police
force in England and Ireland, one of the best
achievements of Peel in those days. His attitude
towards Ireland and Irish affairs was characteristic
of his sagacious wisdom. He was a member of the
dominant Protestant caste ; but as Chief Secretary,
many years before, he had seen that Protestant as
cendency was a dangerous state of things, and he
gave his full sanction to the important change which
removed the extreme Protestant Junta from the
Castle, and checked the arrogance of Orangeism and
its sectarian tyranny. His brother. Lord Wellesley,
indeed, had, as Lord Lieutenant, inaugurated this
most salutary reform ; it became the precursor of a
new era in the consideration and treatment of Irish
affairs. As to the Catholic question, now in the
forefront of politics, Wellington had no thought of

Entrance into Political Life 327
heroic remedies : he wished to preserve what was
caUed the Protestant Settlement in the Church, the
State, and landed relations ; he was opposed to
Catholic Emancipation as a somewhat hazardous
policy, and as placing the Irish Catholics in a posi
tion that might become dangerous to the institu
tions under which they lived. But he had no
objection to Catholics on the ground of their faith ;
he was wholly free from the ideas of Eldon and Per
cival; he had the good sense to perceive when coercion
must give place to concession in the government
and administration of Catholic Ireland. The Catho
lic Association, founded by O'Connell in 1823-24, had
soon practically superseded the authority of the law
and of the men in oflfice in Dublin in three-fourths
of Ireland ; in Canning's words it had formed a State
within the State : it was far more powerful than the
Land or the National Leagues of a much later day.
Wellington, able in council as he had been in the
field, knew when a position had become untenable :
he took a prominent part in advocating the Compro
mise of 1825, largely founded on the Irish policy of
Pitt : it was most unfortunate that this measure never
became law.
A very striking feature in Wellington's career in
this period was the authority he acquired over lead
ing public men. This, indeed, was largely due to
his military renown : but it was also caused by a
conviction that he was a servant of the State of ex
traordinary merit and worth, and a politician of no
mean order: we must bear in mind that he owed
his eminence to himself; he did not belong to one

328 Wellington
of the great ruling families. This influence was per
haps most clearly seen, and not without a comical
touch, in the ascendency he exercised over George
IV. ; he disliked the King and was disliked by him,
but he treated him as a kind of royal puppet,
and he kept him out of a great deal of mischief.
Peel was the statesman to whom he was most nearly
allied, though he was, perhaps, never one of Peel's
intimate friends ; this alliance had memorable results
in a troubled period now close at hand. In 1827 he
unfortunately broke with Canning, when Canning had
been unexpectedly made head of the State ; this was
one of the most remarkable mistakes of his political
life. He distrusted a great deal of Canning's policy;
but the real reason that he would not hear of being
his colleague was not mere envy and jealousy, as has
been said, but that he believed Canning to be false
and insincere, and that he detested his somewhat
questionable parleys with the Whigs. Yet certainly
he gave proofs of faults of temper ; he ought not to
have thrown up the great oflfice of Commander-in-
Chief on grounds that cannot be fairly justified ;
this oflfice did not depend on the fate of a Ministry.
But in truth Canning and Wellington were men of
opposite natures ; the brilliant orator, emotional, en
thusiastic, optimistic, vain, was a striking contrast to
the sound-headed, calm-minded, stout-hearted sol
dier, seldom swayed by sympathies of any kind.

CHAPTER XI
PRIME MINISTER OF ENGLAND
The Administration of Canning — Hopes formed as regards his pol
icy — Death of Canning — The Goderich Ministry a mere stop
gap — Wellington becomes Prirae Minister — General belief that
his Government would be permanent — Hill made Commander-
in-Chief of the army — Repeal of the Test and Corporation
Acts — Huskisson and the followers of Canning leave the Min
istry — Vesey Fitzgerald — O'Connell stands for Clare — The
Clare election — -Great results — Catholic Emancipation a neces
sity of State — Policy of Peel and of WelUngton — Great difficul
ties in their way — The Emancipation Bill carried — Political
consequences — Indignation of the high Tory party and of Pro
testant England — The question of Reform pressed to the front
— Distress — Revolutions in France and in Belgium — The Re
form movement adopted by the Whig party— Unwise speech of
Wellington — Fall of his Government — Lord Grey and the Whigs
in office.
THE conflict between the old and the new ideas,
which had been apparent in the Liverpool
Cabinet, broke out at once when Canning be
came Prime Minister. The quarrel with Welling
ton, partly due to personal dislike, was followed by
the resignations of the leading Tories, of whom
Peel was the most conspicuous. Peel, though in no
sense an extreme Tory, had always opposed the
329

330 Wellington
Catholic cause, of which Canning had been the most
distinguished advocate, at least since the death of
the illustrious Grattan. Canning was forced to look
for support to the Whig party ; he placed several
of its chiefs in oflfice ; and though he was sustained
by the mass of the Tories in the House of Com
mons, these did not fully confide in him ; his Gov
ernment had the inherent weakness of a Coalition
Government. Great hopes were formed that the
brilliant and enlightened statesman would inaugu
rate a new order of things in England ; but these
were dissipated by his sudden and untimely death ;
had he lived they would probably not have been
fulfilled. The great Tory aristocracy distrusted
Canning ; they looked down on him as a plebeian
upstart ; the majority were averse to him on the
Catholic question. He had incurred the special dis
like of Lord Grey, the champion of the High Whig
noblesse ; and though he had for the moment the
support of the Whigs, he had always denounced
Pariiamentary reform, soon to be the raUying cry of
the whole Whig party. He had not besides much
personal hold in the nation ; and his foreign policy
was detested by Continental statesmen, who had
still much influence on the Tories in England. He
was succeeded by an obscure member of the Liver
pool Ministry, who held office for a few months
only, and was universally felt to be a mere stop-gap.
The Government of Lord Goderich was also a Coa
lition Government composed partly of Tories and
partly of Whigs ; it did little or nothing during its
brief existence. Wellington returned to the com-

Prime Minister of England 33 1
mand of the army, a tolerably clear proof that he
left that post on account of the feeUngs he enter
tained towards Canning; but he stood aloof from
the Goderich Ministry ; he truly remarked that
it had neither power nor principle. The Whigs
also fell away from their nominal leader ; after some
hesitation, George IV. had recourse to Wellington,
the'most famous of living Englishmen, who natur
ally was placed at the head of the State, but prob
ably against the secret wishes of the King, who
dreaded the authority of a domineering mentor.
WeUington was now on the verge of his sixtieth
year ; he was in the fulness of his ripe experience,
and of his powerful faculties. The opinion pre
vailed abroad and at home, that after a succession
of weak Governments, his administration would be
as lasting as that of the second Pitt, that is from
1784 to 1801. He had no rival in military fame:
he was the only surviving British statesman who
had taken anything like a conspicuous part in the
settlement of the Continent in i8i4and 1815. He
had been the colleague and the fast friend of Castle
reagh ; and though he had backed Canning in parts
of that Minister's policy, he had separated himself
from Canning in 1827. He had been cordially re
ceived at the Russian Court by Nicholas, now becom
ing the first of Continental rulers ; he stood weU with
Charies X. of France : he was still recognised as one
of the chiefs of the old League of Europe. His in
fluence on the Continent, in a word, was immense;
his position in domestic poUtics seemed completely
secure. He was at the head of the great Tory

332 Wellington
following, still in possession of scarcely interrupted
power ; but he had associated himself with the pru
dent Tories, who were not hostile to the spirit of
the age ; the ablest certainly of these was Peel, who
under him, had become the leader of the House of
Commons. His tenure of oflfice, besides, seemed
not to be threatened by any of the immediate q^ues-
tions of the day, or by the prospect of impending
social troubles. He was now opposed to the Catho
lic claims, because he believed they could not be
settled in the existing condition of English parties ;
but he had never resisted them on grounds of
principle; and he had tried to effect the compro
mise of 1825. He was an adversary of Parlia
mentary reform, but this great question, if plainly
making its way, had not yet reached the first place
in politics; indeed it was not deemed of much real,
practical moment. The country, too, was in the
main progressing; agriculture and commerce were
not unprosperous; there were few signs of wide
spread discontent; and Wellington, now universally
known as " the Duke," if not popular, was justly
esteemed by the nation. His Government therefore
promised to be of long duration; it had the appear-/'
ance of complete stability. But it fell on extraor
dinarily diflficult times; it was destined to lead to
a great constitutional change, and to cause the
break-up of the dominant Tory party; to encounter
a revolutionary movement at home, made worse by
general and acute distress, and a violent revolu
tionary movement abroad; to make the long-dis
credited Whigs the depositories of power, and to

SIR ROBERT PEEL.
(From the painting by John Linnell, in the National Portrait Gallery.)

Prime Minister of England 333
transfer it practically, for a time, to the middle
classes in the State : and finally to succumb, after a
few months, amidst indignation not wholly unde
served, and a tempest of popular passion, which
shook the institutions of England to their base.
The Government of Wellington was not origin
ally a purely Tory Government ; it comprised four
of Canning's distinguished followers, men of liberal
and enlightened views, for liberal ideas were steadily
increasing in strength. The command of the army
was conferred on Hill, perhaps the ablest companion
in arms of the Duke ; all seemed full of certain pro
mise for a time. The Test and Corporation Acts,
bad legacies of the seventeenth century, which im
posed galling restrictions on Nonconformists, were re.
pealed ; it deserves notice that Wellington refused
to sanction an indirect attempt to subject Catholics
to further disabUities in the State. A rift, however,
soon appeared in the lute; a compromise was ef
fected in the exclusive Corn Law, but dissensions
broke out on a greater subject. The Tories in the
Cabinet desired to transfer the seats of two corrupt
boroughs, that had been forfeited, to parts of the
adjoining counties : Huskisson voted for giving
them to the great towns of Birmingham and Manches
ter, stUl unrepresented in the House of Commons ;
his resignation of his oflfice was somewhat curtly ac
cepted by his chief. The three other disciples of
Canning — of these Palmerston was the most emin
ent—thinking their coUeague wronged, went out of
oflfice with him ; the Administration became wholly
of a Tory complexion; one of the ministerial

334 Wellington
changes that ensued had memorable results. Mr.
Vesey Fitzgerald was appointed to the Board of
Trade, his re-election to his native county of Clare
was considered to be a foregone conclusion : his
father had been a friend of Grattan : he was a
staunch advocate of the Catholic cause ; the landed
gentry of his county were on his side, to a man ; and
hitherto, as in other parts of Ireland, they had been
masters of the votes of the peasant masses, enfran
chised by the measure of 1793. But great events,
ill understood in Downing Street, had been for some
time taking place in Ireland : a movement of extra
ordinary force had been let loose which was sweep
ing away the old political landmarks. The failure
of the arrangement of 1825 had incensed O'Connell;
the agitation he had set on foot acquired sudden and
enormously increased power; at the general election
of 1826, Protestant ascendency received another
weighty blow. The Catholic Association, already a
danger to the State, already subverting the law of
the land, became absolutely supreme throughout the
South of Ireland : it was backed by the immense
authority of the Catholic Church ; it formed a kind
of government which made its mandates obeyed.
O'Connell conceived the bold design of opposing
Fitzgerald at the Clare election, though, as a Catho
lic, he could not sit in the House of Commons; the
power of the Association was concentrated in his
hands; the result was never for a moment doubtful.
At the instigation of local leaders, in every district,
and at the bidding of their clergy, who from their
altars called on them to rise on behalf of freedom

Prime Minister of England 335
and their faith, the Clare peasantry broke away from
their landlords: the feudal ties which had bound
them snapped in a moment ; O'Connell was re
turned by an immense majority of votes ; the tri
umph of the Association and of the great tribune
was complete.
A violent revolution now appeared imminent
throughout Ireland, and in all her provinces. The
Clare election had a portentous influence ; in Lein
ster, Munster, and Connaught the peasantry joined
in the revolt ; in many places they refused to pay
rents or tithes, as had happened before the rising of
1798. Catholic Ireland, in a word, was in an insur
rectionary state ; and though the Association and
O'Connell denounced crime and outrage, there was
widespread disorder that seemed impossible to re
press. At the same time Orangeism lifted up its
head in frenzy, and threatened to have its revenge
on its foes : and though the great body of the Pro
testant landed gentry declared that concessions
must be made, Protestant Ulster wore a dangerous
aspect. There were incessant rumours of a bloody
civil war : and if the Catholic leaders preached peace,
they had the fortunes of Ireland in their hands ; a
word from O'Connell might have inaugurated a
Reign of Terror. In these circumstances Peel, at
the head of the Home Office, and largely responsible
for Irish affairs, perceived that the settlement of the
Catholic question had become necessary for the
safety of the State, and did not hesitate to avow
this belief to his leader. Peel had for many years
opposed the Catholic claims on the ground that they

2,3^ Wellington
were incompatible with the political and social sys
tem that prevailed in Ireland ; he properly offered
to retire from his post, but when he had convinced
Wellington that his views were correct, he patrioti
cally agreed to act with him, and to give Catholic
Emancipation effect. By adopting this course he
was no doubt throwing political consistency to the
winds, and so in a certain degree was the Duke ;
but the welfare of the Commonwealth was at stake ;
and — a fact that should be carefully borne in mind
— Wellington and Peel were the only statesmen who
could have carried a concession of this kind through
Parliament ; the Whig party would not have had a
chance of success. The diflficulties, however, in
their way, were prodigious ; George IV. and his
brother, the Duke of Cumberland, were furious in
their anti-Catholic zeal ; the Tory majority in the
House of Commons, and three-fourths probably of
the aristocracy of the land, resented a policy they
deemed truckUng and unwise ; the House of Lords
and the Church were distinctly adverse. The na
tion, besides, was indignant at what O'ConneU had
achieved ; it despised the Irish Catholics as an inferior
race ; Protestant feeling ran high against the Irish
priesthood ; the Nonconformists especially were ve
hement in their bigoted language. Had an appeal
to the country been made at this crisis, Catholic
Emancipation would never have been granted by an
unreformed Parliament.
Peel and Wellington had soon agreed to their
project ; the Duke had more enlightened views than
his colleague ; as had been the case with Pitt at the

Prime Minister of England 337
Union, he wished to make a provision for the Irish
priesthood, a salutary and far-sighted policy. But
how to give effect to the measure was the great
question, having regard to the formidable obstacles
in the way. The Duke acted as he had acted more
than once in the field, he carefully masked the large
change of front he was making ; he gave no open
countenance to the Catholic claims ; he even re
moved from oflfice one of their leading advocates.
He has been angrily blamed for concealing his pur
pose, and for not making it known to the heads of
his party, but it is more than doubtful whether his
position would have been improved by such a dis
closure. He had soon thrust the Duke of Cumber
land aside ; but when the Emancipation Bill was
explained to the King, George IV. refused his assent
in passionate phrases ; it was not until the Ministers
had resigned that he yielded to an ascendency of
which he stood in awe, and sullenly agreed to acqui
esce in the measure. The bill was brought into the
House of Commons in the session of 1829, and was
supported by Peel in a masterly speech ; but it was
not so conciliatory or comprehensive a scheme as
might have been expected. The Catholic claims
were indeed satisfied, if with somewhat unwise ex
ceptions ; it can hardly be denied that as affairs
stood, the Catholic Association was rightly sup
pressed, and the Irish peasant masses were rightly
deprived of the franchise. But there was no pro
vision for the commutation of the tithe in Ireland,
a reform in the minds of our best statesmen for
years; the Irish Catholic priests were left out in the

338 Wellington
cold ; O'Connell was not permitted to take his seat
for Clare, an instance of want of tact for which Peel
was responsible. The measure, in a word, fell
short of the proposals of 1825, but it passed the
House of Commons, partly owing to the assistance
of the Whigs, and partly to a majority still pos
sessed by the Government : it was forced through
the House of Lords by Wellington's overpowering
influence. The nation, however, was deeply stirred ;
a furious outcry against the Ministry arose, increas
ing day after day in volume. The extreme Tories
declared they had been deceived and betrayed : the
oligarchy, so potent in the House of Commons,
pronounced in many instances against the Govern
ment ; the Tory party seemed rapidly falling to
pieces. The signs of the times revealed themselves
in the rejection of Peel, her favourite son, by Ox
ford, and in the ludicrous passage of arms between
the Duke and Lord Winchelsea. The prejudices
and the pride of Englishmen were also enlisted
against the men in oflfice ; they had tamely surren
dered to Irish Papists, and to a noisy and obscure
Irish demagogue ; they had humiliated and dis
graced England ; was this to have been expected
from the victor of Waterloo 7
Catholic Emancipation was the greatest achieve
ment of Wellington in the sphere of politics. He
saw that a great change in Ireland could not be
avoided ; he seized the occasion with characteristic
judgment ; he overcame diflficulties from which
weaker men would have shrunk ; he gave con
spicuous proof of his indomitable will ; he prevented

Prime Minister of England 339
a revolution that must have endangered the State.
Nevertheless the measure Parliament enacted had
faults and defects ; it has had consequences that
have left their mark on our history. The conces
sion of the Catholic claims was the triumph of
agitation organised with marveUous skill ; agitation,
before without much strength in England, became
thenceforward a mighty force in her politics; the
Catholic Association was the parent of the Birming
ham Union, of the Anti-Corn-Law League, of
the Chartist movement : it gave an immense im
pulse to Democracy in many of its forms. Catholic
Emancipation too, accomplished without the proper
safeguards contained in the scheme of 1825, and ef
fected in a tumult of popular passion, all but
destroyed the influence of the Irish landed gentry,
and deeply affected the settlement of the Irish land:
it introduced, besides, into the national councils
a faction which has had a great deal too much
power, which ought to have been kept within closer
limits, and which has played a sinister part in the
affairs of the Empire. The measure, moreover,
fathered by Wellington and Peel, greatly shook
confidence in public men ; it not only shattered the
ties of party, it seemed a gross violation of
the most solemn pledges ; it had results akin to
those caused by the coalition of Fox and North.
But its most immediate, if not its most lasting
effect, was that it gave a sudden and powerful im
pulse to a movement hitherto almost in the back
ground, but now rapidly and portentously brought
to the front. It has often been remarked that

340 Wellington
Englishmen do not like to deal with two im-
portant questions in politics at the same time ;
when Catholic Emancipation had been put out
of the way. Parliamentary reform began to engross
the national mind. And the animosities, the pas
sions, the divisions, the distrust, engendered in
1828-29, from- the highest down to the lowest
classes, did not conduce to an easy, even to a wise
settlement of Parliamentary reform.
Having successfully carried the Emancipation
Bill through Parliament, in a great measure through
his personal influence, WeUington endeavoured to
strengthen his forces in both Houses, which, he must
have felt, had been much weakened. He was con
fident in his own position, and in that of his Govern
ment: it should be remembered that he was less an
object of party and popular odium than Peel, who
had been more deeply pledged against the Catholic
claims, and whose cold, cautious, and reserved man
ner contrasted unfavourably with his superior's bold,
frank, and soldierlike bearing. The Duke, however,
seems hardly to have gauged the power of the for
midable combination arrayed against him, composed
as it was of many diverse but most potent elements.
A large minority of the Tories denounced his Gov
ernment ; the Whigs, though they had supported
him on the Catholic question, regarded him with
growing envy and dislike, and were irritated that
they had been kept out of oflfice ; Protestant Eng
land largely condemned him for his late conduct.
Besides, some of his appointments to high places in
the State were bad ; and the dictatorial attitude he

Prime Minister of England 341
had been almost compelled to assume provoked
a good deal of discontent in Parliament. Neverthe
less he went steadily to work to improve his position:
he made overtures to the Whigs, which, if coldly
received for the moment, might in other circum
stances not have been fruitless ; he endeavoured to
rally to his side many wavering and recalcitrant
Tories. This balanced strategy, as it has aptly been
called, might have succeeded had its author had
time, and had not a series of conditions become
suddenly adverse. As has repeatedly been seen in
the affairs of Ireland, the immense concessions just
made to the Catholics did not bring peace or allay
trouble ; sedition and agitation were more than ever
rampant ; disorder and crime distinctly multiplied ;
Catholic Emancipation, it was loudly asserted, had
proved a failure ; this told with no little effect on
the Ministry. Simultaneously there were at least
two bad harvests ; in the three kingdoms every
interest connected with the land suffered ; this re
acted on manufactures and commerce, more depend
ent then upon agriculture than in the present age. In
several counties it became impossible to pay rent;
the poor-rates ate up the produce of the soil ; the
wages of labour feU to starvation point; factories
were shut up and furnaces blown out in many
towns, lately thriving centres of industry and trade.
Widespread and severe distress followed : the re
sults appeared in dangerous movements in parts of
the country, in angry popular risings, in incendiary
fires, in savage deeds of violence, in organised out
rages. All this increased and exasperated poUtical

342 Wellington
discontent, and produced a general feeling in favour
of a great change in the State ; even in Parliament
the Government was fiercely denounced, when it
was declared in the Speech from the Throne in 1830,
that practically little or nothing could be done
to remove or even to lessen the many ills which
aflflicted the nation.
The cry for Parliamentary reform already loudly
heard and greatly increased by the prevailing dis
tress, now became passionate, intense, general : the
existing Parliament, it was proclaimed, would not
do its duty or attempt to improve the state of the
country ; many of the Tories renounced the opinions
they had held, and became reformers even in an
e.-itreme sense, partly in order to harass and vex
the Government. The movement was immensely
strengthened by movements abroad, which, turned
to account by popular leaders, made a profound im
pression on the national mind in England. A re
actionary minister of Charles X. issued ordinances
which suspended the constitution in France, and
practically destroyed the liberty of the press ; Paris
rose up in indignant wrath ; the army took the side
of the multitude ; the Bourbon dynasty was driven
from the throne ; the Duke of Orleans was made
King ; democracy gained a decisive triumph. At
the same time, Belgium, linked to Holland by an un
natural tie, threw off an allegiance detested by
nearly all classes ; part of the settlement made at
Vienna was undone ; a democratic revolution again
triumphed. These events told powerfully against
the Duke and his Ministry ; he was identified by

Prime Minister of England 343
his political foes, by demagogues, and by the Rad
ical press with the policy of Metternich, and of
Castlereagh ; he was a champion of absolutism on
the Continent ; he was a dangerous man to be at
the head of affairs in England. Just at this time
too, George IV. died ; his successor, WiUiam IV.,
was known to have liberal views ; and though he
made no change in Wellington's Government, it
was loudly announced that he favoured reform in
Parliament. At the general election which fol
lowed the demise of the Crown, seat after seat was
lost to the Ministry; in fact, England pronounced
against it ; the abuses prevalent under the existing
order of things, the anomalies, the iniquities, the in
tolerable state of representation, which did not ex
press the will of the nation, and was the monopoly
of an oligarchy, selfish and corrupt, were subjects
of invective at every busting ; country and town
echoed with a universal demand for a thorough re
form of a bad Parliament ; this was urged by forces
evidently of extraordinary strength. The Whigs
who had for years made this policy their own, but
who had hitherto failed to give it effect, perceived
their opportunity and cleverly seized it; they placed
themselves at the head of the popular movement :
Parliamentary reform was made their principal
watchword. Their success was seen in the trium
phant return of Brougham for York : and the
country was organised to promote the cause. In
Birmingham, in Manchester, in other important
towns, nay, even in several rural districts, associa
tions were formed to bring the mighty change

344 Wellington
about which was to inaugurate a new era in
England. A violent revolution appeared at hand ; some of
the leading Whigs, essentially an aristocratic class,
afraid of the ominous signs of the times, made over
tures to WeUington in order to join his Govemment,
and to effect a compromise on the question of Re
form. These parleys, however, proved useless;
events were precipitated by a very untoward inci
dent. When Parliament had met after the late
election. Lord Grey, the recognised head of the
Whigs, brought forward the subject in a temperate
speech. " You see," he said, " the danger around
you ; the storm is on the horizon, but the hurricane
approaches. Begin, then, at once to strengthen
your houses, to secure your windows, and to make
fast your doors. The mode by which this must be
done, my lords, is by securing the affections of your
fellow-subjects, and I pronounce the word — by re
forming Parliament." The earnest appeal was wise
and statesmanlike : the reply of Wellington, peremp
tory, curt, nay, offensive, was an emphatic protest
against any measure of reform. " I have never read
or heard," he declared, " of any measure up to the
present moment, which can in any degree satisfy
my mind that the state of the representation can be
improved, or be rendered more satisfactory than it
is at present. ... I am fully convinced that
the country already possesses a legislature which
answers all the purposes of a good legislature. . .
I will go further and say that the legislature and
the present system of representation possess the

Prime Minister of England 345
full and entire confidence of the country. ... I
wiU go StiU further and say that if at the present
moment I had imposed on me the duty of forming
a legislature for my country, and particularly for a
country like this, in possession of great property of
many descriptions, I do not mean to assert that I
should form such a legislature as you possess now,
for the nature of man is incapable of reaching such
excellence at once, but my great endeavour would be
to form some description of legislature which would
produce the same results. ... I am not only
not prepared to bring in any measure of the
description alluded to by the noble lord, but I
will at once declare, that as far as I am concerned,
so long as I hold any station in the government of
the country, I shall always feel it my duty to resist
such measures when proposed by others."
The nation had distinctly pronounced for reform :
the new House of Commons had been elected to dis
pose of the question. England was incensed with
the minister, who had crossed her will, and with an
audacity alien to his real character had, without
hesitation, defied her opinions. A sudden tempest
of indignation swept over the country, one of those
outbursts of popular passion often seen in its history,
like the frenzy of the Popish Plot and of the Ex
clusion BUl, like the wrath aroused by revolution
ary and regicide France. Disorders and outrages
rapidly increased ; attacks on property were made
in many places ; Reform became an insurrectionary
cry ; the institutions of the kingdom were held up to
odium ; the landed aristocracy and aU that pertained

346 Wellington
to it were savagely decried at angry public meetings.
" London," it is said, " became like the capital of a
country devastated by cruel war or foreign invasion."
The Duke boldly confronted the crisis ; he took
strong measures to enforce the public peace, he bar
ricaded his mansion of Apsley House ; he called on
the landed gentry in every county to uphold order.
But nothing could stem the universal torrent ; his
Government was swept away on a minor question ;
Lord Grey and the Whigs came into oflfice on the
crest of a revolutionary wave, pledged to carry a
great measure of Parliamentary reform. Welling
ton left his post censured and decried even by mod
erate men ; for a time he was the most unpopular
man in these kingdoms. A singularly well-informed
and calm-minded observer has placed on record in
these words, how his late conduct had alienated men
of all parties, and even the great majority of the
people of England : " With his Government falling
every day in public opinion, and his enemies grow
ing more numerous and confident, with questions of
vast importance rising up with a vigour and celerity
of growth which astonished the world, he met a new
Parliament (constituted more unfavourably than the
last, which he had found himself unable to manage),
without any support, but in his own confidence and
the encouraging adulation of a little knot of de
votees. There still lingered around him some of
that popularity which had once been so great, and
which the recollection of his victories would not
suffer to be altogether extinguished. . . . But it
was decreed that he should fall. He appeared bereft

Prime Minister of England 347
of aU judgment and discretion, and after a King's
speech which gave great, and I think unnecessary,
offence, he delivered the famous philippic against Re
form which sealed his fate. From that moment it
was not doubtful, and he was hurled from the seat of
power amid universal acclamations." '
To this generation it may appear amazing that
Parliament had not been reformed long before this
period ; its defects had been perceived by Cromwell
and Chatham. The old Houseof Commons did not
represent the nation, save in a very indirect and im
perfect way ; the landed aristocracy had far too
much power init; there was no representation of
most important towns ; nomination, rotten, and
close boroughs secured for privileged classes a bad
inffuence ; the anomalies and vices of the system
were prodigious and glaring. Yet Burke and Can
ning had always defended this order of things ; the
statesmen who had beheld the French Revolution,
nay, many of their successors, dreaded organic change
in a Constitution, even as it was, very much the best
in Europe. The antipathy of Wellington to Parlia
mentary reform was due partly to his political faith
and partly to the peculiar circumstances of the time.
If not a mere Tory bigot, he was not less a Tory ; he
wished to see the aristocracy of the land the chief
power in the State ; that " the King's Government
should be strong" seemed to him essential; these
great objects he thought practically secure under our
old Parliamentary regime. Nor had he any real

' Greville, Memoirs, ii., 84-85.

348 Wellington
knowledge of the Great Britain of manufacture and
commerce, and of the great interests which had been
growing up for years and yet had very little weight
in public affairs ; he failed to understand the changed
conditions of the national life ; he did not correctly
discern the signs of the time. He was rather a mar
tinet than a thinker in the political sphere, and re
form seemed to him especially dangerous, when
democracy was gaining triumphs abroad, and was
making rapid and threatening progress at home ; he
was not wholly in error when, in 1829-30, he believed
the season was unpropitious for making an immense
experiment in all that related to the institutions of
the State. These considerations partly excuse the
attitude he took at this important juncture; never
theless his speech in reply to Lord Grey was intem
perate, unwise, unworthy of him, — it was one of the
few great mistakes of his career.

CHAPTER XII
FROM 1830 TO 1 841
The Grey Government — It introduces the Reform Bill — Progress of
the measures brought in — Wellington called upon to form an
administration— He fails — The Reform Bill becomes law —
Characteristics of the measure — Wellington steadily opposes it
all through — Agitated and critical state of England — The
Duke's life exposed to danger — The first Reformed Parliament
— Fall of the, Government of Lord Grey— Lord Melbourne
Prime Minister — William IV. changes his Ministry and places
Wellington at the head of affairs — His patriotic conduct — Peel
Prime Minister — His first short administration — The Melbourne
Government restored to office — Wise and moderate attitude of
Wellington in opposition — Death of William IV. — Accession of
Queen Victoria — Soult in England — Feebleness of the Mel
bourne Government— Wellington and Peel, who had been es
tranged, are completely reconciled — Fall of the Melbourne
Government — Peel Prime Minister.
THE Government of Lord Grey, which succeeded
that of the Duke, was composed partly of aris
tocratic Whigs and partly of late adherents of
Canning; it was weU for England that, at a grave
crisis, she did not faU into the hands of demagogues.
This is not the place to examine at length the memor
able events which, continuing for many months,
wrought a complete change in the unreformed Pariia-
349

350 Wellington
ment, and transformed the old political system of
these realms amidst shocks and troubles that seemed
to imperil the State. The first Reform BiU, introduced
by Lord John Russell, passed the second reading in
the House of Commons by a majority of one ; but the
Ministers were beaten in committee, and appealed
to the country. The new House of Commons pro
nounced decisively for a second bill ; but this was
summarily rejected by the House of Lords, which
denounced the measure as fatal to the Constitution
and the national welfare. The people of Great Bri
tain, already with difficulty restrained, and incensed
at seeing its will thwarted, rose in several districts in
angry outbreaks ; ominous signs of social disorder
appeared ; many thinking and moderate men be
lieved that England was going the way of France in
1789-91. The Ministers, however, persisted in their
course ; they brought forward a third Reform BiU,
to which the House of Commons, of course, gave its
sanction : a party called " the Waverers " had been
formed in the House of Lords, which dreaded the
aspect of the time, and wished for a compromise ; in
a great degree owing to this influence the second
reading passed the House of Lords by a small ma
jority. But the measure was defeated in committee
again ; Lord Grey and his colleagues resigned oflfice ;
William IV., who had become terrified at the condi
tion of affairs, called on Wellington to- form a new
Government. This attempt, however, completely
failed ; the Grey Ministry returned to power : the
House of Lords sullenly assented to the third Re
form Bill, largely from dread of a great creation of

From 1 8 JO to 1841 351
peers, to which, it was said, the King had agreed.
Parliamentary reform became at last the law of the
land ; a real danger to the State had been averted.
It is impossible in this brief sketch to describe the
organic change in the Constitution which had been
thus effected, or even to dwell on its momentous re
sults. The three Reform Bills were substantially
the same ; they were not without grave and palpable
defects. They swept away popular franchises in
some boroughs ; they made the franchise they
created too uniform ; they confined it too much to
a single class : the farmers in the counties were en
franchised by a mere accident. But, to a very con
siderable extent at least, they removed the abuses
which had made the House of Commons the instru
ment of an oligarchic caste ; they got rid of a num
ber of nomination, close, and rotten boroughs ; they
gave Manchester, Birmingham, and other great
towns the representation to which they had a right ;
and whUe they deprived the aristocracy of iUegiti
mate power, they left most of its indirect authority
unimpaired. On the whole, they added greatly to
the influence of the trading and middle classes in the
State, but this the facts of the situation required ;
and that influence was not to become excessive, as
time was before long to prove. And though essen
tially democratic in their tendencies, they did not let
democracy run riot ; they left the most vital parts of
the Constitution intact.
Wellington resisted reform with the steady per
severance he had exhibited on many a hard-fought
field. His perfect sincerity cannot be doubted ; the

352 Wellington
measure, he was convinced, would prove the ruin of
the State ; it would make the stable administration
of affairs impossible ; it would destroy the aristoc
racy, perhaps overthrow the monarchy. In these
views he was certainly wrong ; yet they were quite
as conscientiously held by Peel, the leader of ,the
Opposition in the House of Commons, and by many
of the eminent men of the time, astonishing as this
may appear to the generation in which we live.
The Duke had no patience with the " Waverers " ;
he regarded them as deserters in the face of the
enemy ; he turned a deaf ear to any thought of com
promise. Undoubtedly he made an earnest attempt
to form a Ministry when Lord Grey resigned ; but
Peel, very properly, would not consent to introduce
a Reform Bill similar to that which he had steadily
condemned. Catholic Emancipation, he insisted, was
quite a different case. This caused a temporary es
trangement between the two men ; but Peel cer
tainly took the right course ; the Duke's argument
that a Government should be formed " to save the
King," even at the heavy price of reform, cannot
bear examination and was self-deception. It de
serves notice that in opposing reform, the Duke
raUied again all the Tories around him ; the events
of 1829 were forgotten ; but this was by no means
the case with Peel ; he was still regarded with a good
deal of distrust. During these agitated months
Wellington's unpopularity passed all bounds ; he was
held up to execration by demagogues and an in
cendiary press ; more than once his life was in danger
from the savage mob of London. Yet he pursued

From 1 8 JO to 1841 353
his course with the tenacity characteristic of him ;
he set an example to Englishmen which it is impos
sible not to admire. Much as he disliked the Min
istry of Lord Grey, he co-operated loyally with it in
maintaining order wherever it was disturbed ; he
repeatedly warned his party that its first duty was
to support the " King's Government," and never to
try to gain a factious triumph. This truly patriotic
conduct had an immense effect ; Whigs and Tories
united in defence of the State and the laws ; it dis
tinctly checked much that was most dangerous in
the Reform movement. It should be added that,
except in a few instances, the Ministry acted as be
came statesmen, and kept anarchy effectually down :
that the aristocracy when attacked showed courage
and spirit, and that the nation gradually returned to
the ways of moderation and common sense. Never
theless it must be acknowledged that when the first
Reformed Parliament met, in thebeginning of 1833,
the balance of the Constitution seemed perilously
disturbed and Parliamentary Government brought
well-nigh to a deadlock. The Ministry had such an
immense majority, that it appeared to possess irre
sistible power ; the Tory party in the House of
Commons was a mere forlorn hope ; the House of
Lords, humiliated and defeated, was held of little
account in the State. And for a short time innova
tion rushed onwards in full flood : extravagant pro
jects of change were proposed : the Opposition in the
House of Commons was treated by Radical faction
with contempt. But the Ministers set their faces
against extreme measures ; their legislation was, in
23

354 Wellington
the main, well conceived : and under the able and
skUful leading of Peel, the Torie.s, thenceforward
to be called Conservatives, regained confidence, and
even increased in numbers. Omnipotent, too, as the
Government was deemed to be, avariety of causes im
paired its strength and gradually made it essentially
weak. There was a frightful agrarian outbreak in
Ireland, stained with detestable deeds of blood ; the
Ministry was compelled to have recourse to severe
coercion ; this incensed O'Connell and his " Tail," as
it was called ; he broke away from the " base, bloody,
and brutal Whigs " with his submissive followers.
Measures, too, introduced to reform the Established
Church in Ireland, produced a schism among the
men in oflfice : four Ministers resigned, as they would
not sanction the application of part of the property
of the Church to secular uses. Nor had the Govern
ment a master mind in the House of Commons ;
Lord Althorp, if an amiable even an able man, was
no match for his opponent. Peel ; Lord John Rus
sell was, as yet, a subordinate only. The majority,
moreover, of the Ministry was so great that it be
came unmanageable and split into groups ; and as
disenchantment follows illusion, the wild hopes en
gendered by the Reform Bill had soon proved im
possible to fulfil ; and this disappointment told on
the Government. In these circumstances a Conser
vative reaction quickly set in ; within a few months
Conservatism was distinctly gaining strength in the
country. A kind of conspiracy, too, even now ill
explained, was formed against the veteran Prime
Minister, in which, perhaps, one or two of his col-

From 1 8 JO to 1841 355
•leagues took part ; and the violent harangues of
Brougham, who had been made Lord Chancellor, in
order " to muzzle him," as was generally said, dis
gusted hundreds of moderate and right-minded men.
The Grey Government, which, in 1833, seemed tobe
as absolute as the Long Parliament was in 1641-42,
within eighteen months was almost reduced to im
potence ; Lord Grey suddenly resigned in the sum
mer of 1834.
The Government of Lord Grey was not broken up.
Lord Melbourne, one of his colleagues, became
Prime Minister. He was in no sense a statesman
of a high order, but he was a cautious, astute, and
amiable man, an epicurean and a courtier, and he was
for a long time at the head of the State. But his first
administration did not last. William IV. had long
resolved to get rid of the Whigs ; the death of Lord
Spencer, the father of Lord Althorp, gave the King
the opportunity he sought. Melbourne and his
colleagues were induced to resign ; and as Peel,
recognised by the Conservatives as their coming
Minister, was for the moment abroad in Rome, Wel
lington was practically made a Dictator for a time,
the Treasury and the seals of three Secretaries of
State having been placed in his hands. It might
have been supposed that a coup d^dtat of this kind,
which elevated to supreme power a soldier lately the
mark of popular hatred, would have raised an outcry
throughout the nation ; but England had returned
to her rational mind. She acknowledged the great
qualities of the Duke; it was felt that the best
selection had been foade. Wellington advised the

356 Wellington
King to make Peel Prime Minister, and meanwhile
discharged his multifarious duties with characteristic
zeal and attention. Peel, on his return home, formed
his first Government, and appealed to the country to
give him its support. The strength of the Conserva
tives was greatly increased at the election that fol
lowed, but it did not secure Peel a majority in the
House of Commons ; he had to confront the Whigs,
infuriated at their late removal, and the whole body
of the Liberal and the Radical parties. The conduct of
Peel, however, was judicious and able in the extreme,
and Wellington co-operated with loyal zeal, if their
personal relations were still rather strained. In the
Tamworth Manifesto, as it has been called. Peel
accepted reform as an accomplished fact, and indi
cated that he was prepared to carry out an vcssentially
liberal policy. But he could not expect fair play
from an Opposition eager to turn him out ; a coalition
between the Whigs and O'Connell was made, on the
principle of appropriating part of the revenues of the
Established Churchof Ireland to education andother
purposes ; Peel was placed in a minority on this
question. He was also defeated with respect to other
measures. He resigned in the spring of 1835. Never
theless, the conduct of the Duke and the Minister
had generally been approved by Englishmen ; they
had made an effectual stand in behalf of Conserva
tive principles ; the appeal to the electorate had,
in a great measure, restored the natural balance of
parties; they had been beaten by a far from credit
able intrigue.
The Melbourne Government was forced upon

From 1 8 JO to 1841 357
William IV. when Peel had resigned after this brave
struggle. Though never really strong, and declining
as time roUed on, it continued in oflfice for nearly six
years ; its existence was prolonged by more than one
accident. The state of political affairs during this
period was very remarkable if we bear in mind that
a revolution had lately appeared imminent. The
Conservative reaction which had set in, soon after
1832, went on with steadily augmented force; in
England at least, it became dominant. The move
ment gradually drew into it what was best in English
opinion ; there was an English majority in the House
of Commons in 1839-40. Peel promoted this turn in
affairs with consummate skill ; he completely broke
away from the Toryism of the past ; he announced
his policy to be that of moderate progress, and
though he acted as a powerful check on the Ministry,
and successfully resisted some of their measures,
he usually contented himself with modifying what
was most open to objection in them. By these
means he welded together the Opposition he led into
a most formidable power, which in practice largely
controlled the Government ; and though the extreme
Tories among his followers murmured complaints,
his authority over his party was supreme. It should
be added that his position and his attainments were
perfectly adapted to a Reformed House of Commons
after the frenzy of 1831-32 had .subsided. He was
himself a member of the great middle class of
England ; he was cautious, sagacious, able in the
extreme ; he was Conservative and Liberal alike ;
all this fell in with the prevalent ideas of the time.

358 Wellington
The Ministry, on the other hand, if they retained
their places, were never popular. The King
was on the watch to trip them up, nor was his
influence to be despised ; the great body of
the aristocracy was opposed to them ; they had
comparatively little hold on the nation, which
regarded them with mingled contempt and dis
trust. And though several of their measures were
well conceived, their policy was, in some respects,
unfortunate ; they were far from successful in foreign
affairs and in finance ; and if Palmerston and Lord
John Russell were very able men, they did not
possess the authority of Peel. These various circum
stances told with effect on the Government ; but
what injured it most was, beyond question, its alli
ance with O'Connell and his " Tail," an alliance that
ultimately became dependence. Englishmen were
incensed that their rulers often bowed to the will of
an Irish demagogue they hated and feared, and of an
alien and disloyal faction, and that they accepted
their insolent dictation on many questions. It should
be remarked, too, that O'ConneU's attitude in the
Houseof Commons and in the country was rude and
offensive, and that he was held up to public odium
by the powerful press of England.
The estrangement between Wellington and Peel,
which had long been marked, continued during a
part of this period. It was rather increased by the
circumstance that Peel was annoyed that Oxford
had made the Duke her Chancellor: the prize, he
thought, should have been bestowed on himself,
the most distinguished of her scholars in the service

From 1 8 JO to 1841 359
of the State. The two men, in fact, were of dif
ferent natures, as in the somewhat analogous case of
Canning ; they were not yet intimate in social con
verse, though Peel felt and professed the sincerest
regard for Wellington. But they worked loyally
together in the interests of the State ; the Duke as
leader of the Opposition in the House of Lords
played a very conspicuous and patriotic part. Ever
true to his maxim that the " King's Government "
must be steadily upheld against mere faction, he
supported the Ministry against discontented Tories,
who endeavoured to wreck it over and over again.
He especially censured the invectives of Brougham,
who, furious that he had lost the Great Seal, held up
Melbourne and his colleagues to execration and
scorn. The Conservative Opposition in the House
of Lords was thus kept in harmony with the Opposi
tion in the House of Commons ; the Conservative
cause was greatly strengthened ; its ultimate tri
umph was rendered certain. The Duke, too, suc
ceeded admirably in modifying the legislation of
the Ministry where this seemed to require improve
ment, and in carrying it through the House of
Lords when it was in the national interest. He
supported the great measure of Corporate Reform,
which passed into law at this period, though, with
Peel, he changed some of its essential features. He
refused to echo the outcry against the new Poor Law,
in which many of the Tories joined ; the result was
fortunate for the aristocracy of the land. As re
gards Ireland and Irish affairs, which were very
prominent at this time, he showed that he had no

360 Wellington
sympathy with Orangeism and its pernicious doc
trines ; he assisted in effecting the commutation of
the tithe of the Established Church, one of the
most salutary reforms of these years ; he gave his
sanction to a compromise on Irish Corporate Re
form. As regards foreign affairs he generally gave a
cordial and honourable support to the Government.
He approved of the suppression of the rebellion in
Canada : he made no attack on the war with China
in 1840. As a rule he supported the policy of
Palmerston abroad, especially as regards the alliance
with France, and the events that took place in
Portugal and Spain, though all this was opposed to
the ideas of 18 14-15. But it deserves notice that
he objected to the return of Napoleon's ashes from
St. Helena ; this has been called an unfeeling and a
hard act, and it was in accordance with his unsym
pathetic nature. But it is by no means certain that
Wellington was not in the right: the funeral of Na
poleon revived the Napoleonic legend and shook the
throne of Louis Philippe.
William IV. died rather suddenly in 1837 ; his
niece, the Princess Victoria, became sovereign of
these realms. She had been brought up in the
traditions of the Whigs ; her favourite attendants
were all Whigs ; Melbourne was her excellent and
trusted mentor. This change strengthened the
Melbourne Government ; at the election which fol
lowed the demise of the Crown it gained a few
seats in the House of Commons ; but even the
charm of the presence of the young Queen, and the
influence she exercised on behalf of her friends,

From 1 8 JO to 1841 361
only retarded for a time the Conservative triumph.
The coronation took place in the last days of June,
1838 ; it was a magnificent, nay, an astonishing spec
tacle. Though the railway system was as yet in its
infancy, the world of London seemed trebled in
numbers ; the royal procession passed through enor
mous crowds from the Palace to the Abbey of
Westminster; the streets were decked out with
banners and flags extending for miles. The cere
mony within the abbey was imposing and touching;
the crown was placed on the head of a girl of nine
teen, who bore herself as became the daughter of
a long line of kings, in the presence of the envoys
of the aUied Powers of Europe and the West and of
all that was most noble and beautiful in the land ; the
pomp of ancient chivalry, the splendour of modern
wealth, the solemn ritual of the Church handed
down through the ages, gave a grandeur and an
impressiveness all their own to the superb spectacle.
The figure of Soult was conspicuous among the am
bassadors of foreign Powers ; the veteran soldier
had just landed in England ; he ^"eceived every
where an enthusiastic welcome. Wellington treated
his old adversary as a favoured companion in arms ;
shouting crowds followed the aged warriors as they
were seen riding or walking together ; the brother-
hood-in-arms, often formed between antagonists in
the field, as we see in the cases of Turenne and
Condd, of Eugfene and Villars, has seldom been more
strikingly displayed. The Duke took care that
Soult should be shown everything that London,
Woolwich, and Greenwich could show ; with delicate

362 Wellington
courtesy he tried to stop the publication of a paper
from the pen of the malevolent Croker, which re
flected on the Marshal's conduct at Toulouse ; he
even delayed with equal good feeling the appear
ance of a volume of his own Despatches. The Brit
ish aristocracy, it is unnecessary to say, received the
veteran as a most honoured guest ; he was greeted
with friendliness and respect in the great London
houses ; all kinds of attentions were lavished on him.
Yet there was one awkward scene amidst these fes
tive gatherings : the Lord Mayor proposed, at a
great city banquet, that the Duke should speak
to the toast of the " French Army " ; he growled
out, " Damn them, I 'U have nothing to do with
them but to beat them ! "
In 1839 the Melbourne Government resigned,
having had a majority of five only, on a West
Indian question. The Queen sent for Wellington,
who advised her to make Peel Minister. Peel was
actually installed in oflfice. But her Majesty clung
to her old friends, and was too glad to find an oppor
tunity not to give them up ; she refused to make a
change in the Ladies of her Bedchamber, all, with
out exception, devoted Whigs ; Peel declined to be
Minister on these terms. In this singular intrigue,
if not a party to it, the Queen gave proof of a resolu
tion hardly becoming her youth ; and as Englishmen
have no taste for such schemes of the Palace, she
continued to be unpopular for many months, a cir
cumstance that appears strange to those who did not
live in those days. The Melbourne Administration
resumed their places, but they were overshadowed

From i8jo to 1841 363
by an opposition that had the substance of power,
and a series of events proved adverse in the extreme.
The policy of Palmerston in the East was, indeed, suc
cessful and gave his colleagues and himself a passing
triumph ; but an expedition into Afghanistan was
fitted out which led to a great disaster to the British
arms; the tragedy of the Khyber Pass has not yet been
forgotten. Meanwhile a succession of bad harvests
had occurred ; the condition of agriculture became
very bad ; trade and manufactures suffered even
more severely. In this position of affairs. Chartism,
the forerunner of the Socialism of these days, lifted
its head menacingly and became formidable in many
of the large towns ; thousands of the artisan popula
tion were deprived of work ; mills were closed ; fur
naces were extinguished ; industry was well-nigh
paralysed in several districts. There were dangerous
riots in some places, which the Government did not
suppress with vigour ; the state of England seemed
like that which it had been in 1829-30. The finances,
too, were badly administered ; there was a series of
deficits, ominous and increasing ; the cry for the
repeal of the Corn Laws had arisen ; it was felt that
public affairs should be placed in abler hands.
The marriage of the Queen with Prince Albert
revived her popularity to some extent, and was not
without effect on the Government. Trade, too, had
become somewhat better in 1841 ; a few of the
measures of the Administration — the penny postage
was the best of these — were liberal, and were gener
ally approved. But nothing could arrest the decline
of the Whigs ; the Opposition, they knew, were their

364 Wellington
masters ; they only nominally held the reins of Gov
ernment. Peel and Wellington steadily pursued their
course; the pear was ripening; power was parsing
into their hands. By this time they had been fully
reconciled ; but it is more than doubtful if they were
ever intimate friends, in the sense of complete and
genuine friendship ; the idem sentire de republica re
mained the bond between them. In this position of
affairs, the Ministry made a desperate effort, unwise
and unstatesmanlike, to retrieve their fortunes, but,
as it deserved, it became worse than fruitless. Believ
ing that they read correctly the signs of the times,
they brought forward a series of Free-Trade meas
ures, but Parliament refused to accept these ; they
had little or no effect on public opinion. At last, in
May, 1841, Peel brought matters to a decisive test ;
he proposed a vote of no confidence in the Minis
try, this was carried in the House of Commons by a
majority of one. The Government, however, would
not even now resign : they appealed to the Electorate
on a Free-Trade cry ; they were completely defeated
and at last left oflfice. Peel became Prime Minister
forthe second time ; but he was now in command of
a great majority in both Houses ; the nation had
clearly pronounced in his favor. The Conservative
party which, in 1832, had been reduced to a handful
of men, was now forthe time supreme in the State ;
the result must be largely ascribed to the joint efforts
of Peel and Wellington, in conducting an opposition
with consummate prudence and skill.

CHAPTER XIII
DECLINING YEARS — DEATH — CHARACTER
Wellington in the Cabinet of Peel, but without office — He retums to
the command of the army after the retirement of Hill — State
of England when Peel became Mimster in 1841 — His great
fiscal and ecotiomical reforms — Policy of Free Trade — The
Income Tax — Peel's administration gradually undermined — The
failure of the potato in Ireland — Discussions in the Cabinet —
Attitude of Wellington — Resignation of Peel and return to
office — The ultimate repeal of the Corn Laws carried through
Parliament — Wellington succeeds in passing the measure through
the House of Lords — Fall of Peel's Ministry — The Administra
tion of Lord John RusseU — Wellington often consulted — His
conduct as Commander-in-Chief in his later years — Universal
reverence felt for him — His death and funeral — His character
as a general, as a military administrator, as a statesman, and in
public and private life.
WELLINGTON had a seat in the Cabinet
of Peel, but without oflfice ; he charac
teristically said that he wished to give
place to a younger generation of men. But
on the retirement of Hill, in 1842, he returned
to the command of the army, which he had exer
cised many years before ; he retained this high post
untU he disappeared from the scene. Peel, when
he became Minister for the second time, found
365

3-66 Wellington
England in a sea of troubles ; disasters threatening in
the East, discontent and distress at home, financial
embarrassments on the increase, a violent agitation
for the Repeal of the Corn Laws, a depression in
most branches of trade and commerce, a state of
public opinion deeply diseased. This is not the
place to examine by what means the great Minister
encountered the diflficulties of the time, and in what
degree he relieved or removed them. The peril in
Afghanistan was averted, partly owing to the renown
of the British arms and to the proved valour of the
British soldier, partly to the dissensions of races
which have never made use of success. A series of
good harvests improved the state of the country, and
quickened industry with fruitful results ; the rapid
development of the railway system, if attended by
speculation which did much mischief, added enor
mously to the national wealth, and gave employment
to a huge mass of surplus labour. These happy
accidents, however, as they may rightly be called,
were perhaps not more effectual in raising England
from the critical situatiort into which she had fallen,
and in launching her again on the path of progress,
than the bold, wise, and masterly policy inaugurated
by Peel in her domestic affairs. His Corn Law,
indeed, was a mere compromise ; it did not disarm
the Anti-Corn-Law League, or sUence its powerful
champion, Cobden ; it irritated many of the old
Tory party, who thought the interests of agriculture
betrayed and looked back at the surrender of 1829;
it gave little or no impetus to our foreign commerce.
But Peel revived, though on a grander scale, the eco-

Declining Years — Death — Character 367
nomic reforms of Pitt and Huskisson ; he may fairly
be said to have been the great apostle of Free
Trade for England. He broke down an exclusive
tariff, ruinous to the national industry ; in hundreds
of cases he abolished or reduced duties on imports
required by our manufactures and trade ; he thus
liberated commerce from most injurious restraints
encouraging industry to an immense extent, and
giving an extraordinary impetus to the general wel
fare. And he had the courage — and this was very
great — to carry out these reforms, to defray the
charge, and to restore the equilibrium in the finances
of the State, by subjecting the wealthier classes to
the income tax, imposed hitherto only in time of
war, an experiment deemed astonishing in those
days. The administration of Peel still appeared of un
broken strength, when Parliament adjourned after
the session of 1845. The prosperity of thecountry
was great ; social discontent had all but completely
ceased; the state of agriculture and commerce was
full of promise. The Chartist movement seemed a
phantom of the past ; if the Anti-Corn-Law League
retained life, its inffuence had been perceptibly
weakened ; England seemed to be advancing tran
quilly on the path of progress. But a series of events
had undermined the Government ; the Conservative
party had for some time been complaining of its
chief. The Repeal movement of 1843 had assumed
gigantic proportions under O'Connell ; it had not
been suppressed until very late ; this alienated many
of the high Tories. Peel, too, had introduced more

368 Wellington
than one measure of reform for Ireland, which
aroused the suspicions of Protestant England ; one,
a bill for the increased endowment of Maynooth, the
seminary of the Irish Catholic priesthood, aroused a
tempest of fierce sectarian passion. Our relations
with America and France had, besides, been more
than once strained ; the pacific attitude of Lord
Aberdeen, Peel's Secretary of State for Foreign
Affairs, rather irritated and vexed the national
pride, contrasting as it did with the pugnacity, the
boldness, the meddling, of Palmerston. All this had
an effect on the Ministry ; but the ascendency of
Peel was most weakened among his followers by his
Free-Trade policy. He had enormously reduced the
duties on foreign imports, with admirable results
that could not be denied ; how could high duties on
foreign corn continue ? was Protection to British
agriculture to fetter our commerce abroad, and to
impose a tax on the necessaries of life ? The mind
of the Minister was evidently turning by degrees to
a relaxation of the Corn Laws, in a Free-Trade sense,
probably to their abolition in a not distant future : in
truth their maintenance was every year becoming
more diflficult, largely owing to the conclusive logic
of Cobden. The Conservative party was stirred to
its depths, especially the great aristocracy of the
land ; it was whispered that the Minister would be
tray them again, as he had betrayed them on the
Irish Catholic question ; a young man of genius
gave great force to the sentiment. Disraeli, amidst
the plaudits of scores of the followers of Peel, had
announced that Protection was going the way of

Declining Years — Death— Character 369
Protestantism in 1828-29; and that the Government
was an " organised hypocrisy," with a traitor at its
head. If Peel's majority in the House of Commons
had hardly declined, its fideUty to its leader was no
longer assured.
Wellington took no part, as may be supposed, in
the fiscal and economic reforms at this period ; these
were the work of Peel and his rising Heutenant,
Gladstone. The Duke, however, came prominently
forward during the events which ultimately led to
the fall of Peel's second Ministry. In the early
autumn of 1845, the precarious root which formed al
most the only support of teeming millions in Ireland
always in want, suddenly failed in many parts of
the country ; there was a certainty of dearth which
might end in famine. Peel, who had been Chief
Secretary for Ireland from i8i2to 181 8, and knew
the condition of the mass of the people, summoned
a Cabinet and proposed to suspend the Corn Laws,
in order to let cereals free into the ports ; he added
that, if suspended, they could hardly be revived ;
but only three of his colleagues concurred in this
view. Erelong Lord John Russell announced, in a
famous letter, that the time for the repeal of the
Corn Laws had come, and that free trade in corn
could not be deferred ; this necessarily forced the
hand of Peel ; he submitted a measure to the Cab
inet by which the Corn Laws would have been
abolished in a few years. The Duke, though op
posed to a free trade in corn, accepted the project on
the characteristic plea that it was of paramount im
portance to sustain the Government, and not to hand

3 7o Wellington
it over to the Whigs and Cobden ; but a leading mem
ber of the administration refused to follow his chief ;
Peel resigned, seeing that his colleagues were divided
in mind. The Queen called on Lord John Russell
to form a Government ; but owing to dissensions
with Palmerston Lord John proved unable to carry
out his purpose ; Peel returned to oflfice with his
late Cabinet ; the only exception being the dissen
tient member. Peel, in the beginning of 1846,
brought forward his famous measure for the gradual
repeal of the Corn Laws, and the ultimate establish
ment of free trade in corn ; it is unnecessaty to
dwell on the memorable events that followed. A
tempest of party fury broke against the Minister ;
the mass of the Conservatives fell away from him,
declaring that he had been pledged to Protection
and that he had again shamefully betrayed his trust;
Disraeli made himself conspicuous for his brilliant
invectives ; he concentrated against Peel a body of
angry opinion in the House of Commons. The
measure passed the House by a large majority, hav
ing the support of the Opposition, and of adherents
who still clung to Peel ; but this success was for a
moment only. Peel had introduced a Coercion Bill
for Ireland in the early part of the session ; but the
progress of this had been delayed ; the Whigs and
the Protectionists had voted for it ; but they seized
the opportunity to pronounce against it ; this " black
guard combination," as it was bluntly called by the
Duke, — and faction seldom has played a more dis
creditable game, — placed Peel in a minority, and he
at once resigned. Wellington carried the Corn Law

Declining Years — Death — Character 371
Bill through the House of Lords, insisting, as was
his wont, that the Government must be upheld ; the
Peers, though detesting it, did not attempt to resist
it ; times had changed since 1831-32. It is very re
markable that the outcry raised against Peel by the
Protectionists did not affect the Duke ; it was felt
that, from their point of view, he was hardly to
blame ; the veneration which his age and his charac
ter inspired throughout the nation was more than a
suflficient safeguard.
The administration of Lord John Russell fol
lowed that of Peel ; it was practically kept in oflfice
by the late Minister, who opposed the Protectionists
by all the means in his power ; it adopted and ex
tended his Free-Trade policy. But essentially it was
a feeble Government ; it had to cope with diflficult
crises, notably with the great Irish famine of 1846-47,
and with revolutionary events abroad and even at
home ; Palmerston, an object of dislike to the Queen
and her Consort, was a thorn in its side. The Duke
was consulted more than once, on occasions when it
seemed about to fall ; he had become his sovereign's
most trusted servant, especially since the untimely
death of Peel. But, as a rule, he confined himself to
his post at the head of the army ; the aged veteran
greatly distinguished himself; the setting sun still
shed many a bright ray of glory. I shall notice
afterwards the influence Wellington had on our
military system, during the long period when vir
tuaUy it had passed into his hands ; I shaU here only
refer to what he achieved in the last years of his
life. By this time he had exceeded the allotted span

372 Wellington
of threescore and ten ; but though he was not free
from the infirmities of old age his martial spirit re
mained unbroken ; he still professed himself able to
defend the State in the field ; he was still animated
by his enduring sense of duty. As far back as
1839-40, when a rupture between Prussia and France
appeared probable, he had declared that, with the con
sent of his sovereign, he was willing to take com
mand of a Prussian army against the enemies he
had encountered in another age ; this offer, it is be
lieved, was repeated many years afterwards. Wel
lington observed with profound and intelligent
interest the events of the first great Sikh war after
the disappearance of our old ally, Runjeet Singh ;
he fully appreciated the desperate battles that were
then fought ; the Harding of Albuera, one of his
Peninsular oflficers, who almost saved India at a
terrible crisis, was rightly singled out for the praise
he deserved. In 1849, when Gough, a dashing but
imprudent soldier, and, perhaps, too harshly con
demned at the time, was defeated at ChillianwaUa,
with heavy loss, the Duke insisted that Napier
should be sent out to retrieve the disaster ; other
wise he declared he would embark for India himself ;
the veteran had then passed his eightieth year. One
of his best services at this period was his admirable
plan of defending London against a Chartist out
break, threatened in the year of revolutions, 1848;
his arrangements were masterly and skilfully con
cealed ; Chartism sank in ignominious collapse. He
was also desirous, about this time, to transfer the
command of the army to Prince Albert ; but the

SIR HENRY HARDING.
(After the painting by E. Eddis.)

Declin ing Yea rs — -Death — Character 37^
Prince for weighty reasons declined ; the veteran
remained at his glorious post untU his death.
As WeUington's declining years rolled on, he be
came an object of national veneration perhaps un
equalled in England. The renown of his military
exploits remained undimmed ; a new generation re
cognised his great services in the field ; it was felt
that he was a principal author of the long peace
which followed the French Revolutionary War ; as
Napier wrote, the Empire reposed under the Glory
of Waterloo. He was still distinctly the first soldier
of the time ; Soult, Paskievitch, Radetsky, were
illustrious names, but they could not be compared
to him in the opinion of Europe. The unpopularity
of 1831-32 had passed away ; the voice of faction
had been hushed ; his sagacity, his wisdom, above
all, his single-minded and patriotic sense of duty,
had sunk deep into the hearts of his revering coun
trymen. He had become a kind of Mentor of the
Palace for his still youthful sovereign, who looked
up to him with almost a daughter's affection ; when
he made his appearance in the House of Lords, its
members hung on the words he uttered ; he was al
ways welcomed with a more than respectful greeting
as he passed through the busiest streets of London.
It was a touching sight to behold the veteran riding
quietly to do his work at the Horse Guards, or tak
ing his customary exercise in the Park ; every hat
was doffed as he responded to the universal salute.
In this respect his last days and those of Marl
borough were very different ; the victor of Blenheim
and RamUUes died unlamented ; but the judgment of

3 74 Wellington
England fell in with the truth ; there "are " damned
spots" on Marlborough's name; as the poet has
said, no record can cast shame on Wellington. The
end of this history of glory in arms and of faith
ful service to the State came rather suddenly
on the 14th of September, 1852. The Duke, as
Warden of the Cinque Ports, had been staying at-
Walmer ; he had intended to meet one of his nieces
at Dover ; he fell ill, and expired in a few hours.
The news was rapidly spread far and near ; it was
received on the Continent not without emotion ;
as was eloquently said, " a Pillar of the old order
has been removed from an edifice tottering under
the Revolutionary storm." From the Sovereign to
the most humble citizen, the great soldier and states
man was universally mourned ; a Master in Israel,
men felt, had died and' had left no successor.
The body lay in state for some weeks ; reverent
spectators ffocked to see it, day after day, at Aps
ley House, the London residence of the Duke ; the
staffs of a marshal of all the great armies of Europe
were exhibited, and formed a most interesting sight.
A public funeral was solemnly announced ; Queen
Victoria expressed a wish that Parliament should
associate itself with it, and with " the memory of
one whom no Englishman can name without pride
and sorrow." The ceremony took place on the
I Sth of November; Wellington was borne through
the mourning streets of the capital to the cathedral,
which holds the ashes of Nelson. The military
pageant was npt very imposing, though it was at
tended by representatives of nearly all the great

Declining Years — Death — Character 375
Powers, nor was the procession formed by the chief
oflficers of the State remarkable. What was most
touching and most significant was the enormous
multitude, not only of the London citizens, but of
visitors from all parts of the country, who filled the
streets and ways of the city for mUes, and wore the
solemn look of a people in grief.
Wellington was of the middle height and rather
slightly formed ; he had been delicate in youth, but
in mature age was strong — the epithet of the " Iron
Duke" is well known ; his health began to fail after
he had passed seventy ; but he retained his faculties
almost unimpaired ; he was in his eighty-fourth year
when he died. The extant portraits of him are not
very good ; they are somewhat tame, and hardly re
produce features which were evidently those of a
very remarkable man. I only beheld him when in
advanced old age ; his figure was bent, his stature
was shrunk ; but it was impossible not to understand
the character of that wise countenance, and espe
cially the look of that keen, piercing eye, which always
reminded me of that of a raven. It was no associa
tion of ideas that made you feel that you were in
the presence of a superior nature when you saw
Wellington ; for the rest, he had the simple and
somewhat reserved bearing distinctive of the born
English gentleman ; there was nothing showy or
ostentatious about him. The ground plan, so to
speak, of his character is evident to those who have
studied hrs career. He never rose to the topmost
heights of genius ; he was deficient in imaginative
force ; he was less remarkable for originality than

3 76 Wellington
for strong common sense. Sagacity was his chief
intellectual gift ; he was admirable whether in esti
mating the prospects of a campaign, or in laying
down a plan of operations in war, or, usually, in per
ceiving what ought to be done in politics ; his judg
ment in any given situation was of the very
highest value. He had, also, remarkable quickness
and clearness of insight ; he confounded his adver
saries by his ready skill in the field ; he knew in
affairs of State when to stand firm or to retreat, at
least in the great body of instances. It is unneces
sary to add that his professional knowledge was
great ; he had mastered the details of the service in
youth ; he was perfectly able to direct an army
before he had a command ; his moral excellences
were, perhaps, even more striking ; he had extra
ordinary strength of character, he was animated
throughout his long career by a steadfast and un
erring sense of duty ; this was the principle of his
conduct, from which he never swerved ; loyalty and
patriotism were his guiding motives ; he was sin
gularly devoid of ambition and personal selfishness.
His perfect integrity, too, was one of his finest
qualities ; in positions in which he might have made
immense wealth, and that without a stain on his
character, he thought only of the public service ; the
slightest taint of corruption was odious to him ; in
this respect he had much in common with the Patri
cians of the. best ages of Rome. For the rest, his
nature was cold, hard, and stern ; he had little sym
pathy with the social life around him ; he was never
happy in the circle of home. Of the blemishes in

Declining Years — Death — Character ^yy
his domestic relations it is needless to speak ; they
were not grave and hardly require notice.
More than half a century has elapsed since the death
of Wellington ; eighty-eight years since he fought his
last battle at Waterloo. His figure stands out in the
light of history ; an impartial estimate of his career
has become possible. It was the fashion of his day,
in England, to compare him with Napoleon ; but no
masters of war were more completely different ;
Wellington was not a military genius of the first
order. The Peninsular War was his great achieve
ment ; in this long passage of arms his powers were
made grandly manifest. With characteristic sagac
ity he perceived how Portugal could be defended
against the French armies, notwithstanding their
immense numerical strength ; how Spain, in that
event, could hardly be subdued ; this was a military
conception of the very highest merit. In conduct
ing the contest, too, he gave proof of most remark
able gifts ; his plans were usually profound and well
laid ; no general of the Coalition understood, even
nearly as well, what were the inherent defects of the
French army, and how it could be encountered and
beaten in the field. And his project of defending
Portugal at Torres Vedras was a masterpiece ; if not
wholly original, it was magnificently worked out; firm
ness of purpose and force of character in war have
never been more conspicuously seen than when he
stood on this rock before Lisbon confronting the co
lossal might of Napoleon. Wellington's operations
that led to Vitoria are the best examples of his combin
ations on a great scale in the field ; they were most

^yS Wellington
ably designed ; they were the prelude to a decisive
victory. And as we look back at thb Peninsular
War, and at the vicissitudes of that protracted con
test, it is impossible to deny that the British com
mander was the principal author of the ultimate
issue, if he owed much to the discords and jealousies
of his antagonists, and to the extravagance to be
laid to the charge of Napoleon in directing opera
tions in Spain from a desk in Paris. Justice, too,
should be done to the skill and resource shown by
Wellington in making his Peninsular army the ad
mirable instrument of war it became, and in fashion
ing his Portuguese and Spanish levies into disciplined
and, usually, effective soldiers. On the whole, it
may be said that the British General was superior
to every other chief of the League of Europe in the
Revolutionary and Napoleonic Wars ; this, I am
convinced, will be his place in history. Neverthe
less WeUington cannot rank high as a strategist ;
here he is not even to be named with Napoleon ; he
was hardly the equal of the Archduke Charles. An
attentive examination of his Peninsular campaigns
proves that he made many grave strategic mistakes ;
this was conspicuously seen in the Campaign of 1809 ;
he ought not to have fought at Busaco ; he narrowly
escaped discomfiture before Salamanca. Strategic
ally, too, he was more than once outmanceuvred in
his long duel with Soult along the Pyrenean fron
tier ; the success he achieved was partly due to his
marked superiority in the shock of battle, and to the
qualities of his Peninsular army, and partly to
defects in the qualities of his opponents. And it

Declining Years — Death — Character 379
is simply disregarding palpable truths to say that,
when he encountered the greatest of strategists, he
was not outgeneralled almost from first to last,
though his hand was certainly forced by Blucher,
and he would have probably acted quite differently
but for his impetuous coUeague.
It is to the field of battle thatwe have to repair to
see the best qualities of Wellington in the conduct
of war. He was hardly as great a tactician as Marl
borough ; he did not achieve anything equal to
Blenheim and Ramillies. Nor did he ever show the
genius of Frederick the Great at Leuthen ; but he
was a much safer and more prudent commander ; he
made no such mistakes as were made at Kolin and
Torgau. But whether on the offensive or the de
fensive, and especially when he had a position to
hold, he proved himself to be a great master of
tactics. He was not superior at Assaye to Clive at
Plassy ; but in boldly attacking he took the right
course ; his movements in battle were very fine ;
he plucked safety and victory from great appar
ent danger. His passage of the Douro, under
the beard of Soult, was an operation of admirable
skill and resource : had he been properly seconded
the distinguished Marshal would, not improbably,
have met the fate of Dupont at Baylen. At Tal
avera he rightly made a resolute stand ; he might
otherwise have lost his army ; and he inflicted a
severe defeat on Joseph and Victor. Fuentes
d'Onoro is the one of his battles in which his powers
are least distinctly manifest ; he acknowledged him
self, that he ought to have been beaten ; but probably

380 Wellington
he did not make the arrangements before the
fight, and he executed admirably a most diflficult
change of front. The keenness of his insight, and
his remarkable gift of turning to account a mistake
made by an adversary on the field, were grandly
conspicuous at Salamanca ; he gained a great victory
by a tactical stroke ; this, Napier has written, was
the most brilliant of his offensive efforts. Few pas
sages of war are of more striking interest than the
prolonged struggle between Wellington and Soult
on the Pyrenees, before Bayonne, at Orthes, at
Toulouse; the fine combinations of the French Mar
shal were baffled, over and over again, by the ac
tivity, the coup d'ail, the brilliant movements of the
British commander in the actual stress of battle.
And, not to speak of his stem constancy, perhaps
never more magnificently displayed, Wellington
gave proof of the very highest capacity and military
skill on the great day of Waterloo ; he showed that,
as a tactician, he was a master of his art, in the gen
eral arrangement of his army on the ground ; in
husbanding his reserves to the latest moment ; in
screening his troops from the destructive fire of the
artillery which gave Napoleon so many triumphs ;
and, finally, in attacking when he saw that the day
was won. His conduct of Waterloo is his real title
to eulogy in the Campaign of 181 5 ; it is a legiti
mate set-off to no doubtful strategic errors.
Wellington, to a very considerable extent at least,
made his Peninsular army what it became, the best
army in Europe for its size. His military adminis
tration, during the many years when he held the

THE DUKE OF WELLINQTON.
(From a steel engraving.^

Declining Years — Death — Character 381
post of Commander-in-Chief, is hardly entitled to
high praise. There is something in the system of
war established in England which makes her forces
ineflficient in time of peace ; this has been seen from
the Peace of Utrecht to the South African War.
Wellington did not attempt to make reforms in the
army, of which he was the head ; he allowed it to
exist in the routine of the past ; he did not try to
improve its quality. He had the highest opinion of
the British oflficer ; but he did not lay stress on his
professional knowledge ; his idea was that he should
be able to lead his men and to fight. He thought
the non-commissioned oflficers the backbone of the
army ; but he hardly sought to improve their
condition ; he regarded the great body of the Brit
ish soldiers as excellent troops when under severe
discipline, but prone to drunkenness and degrading
vices ; he protested against the abolition or the
mitigation of the barbarities of the lash. But where
he was most deficient in chief command was that
he would not recognise the manifold changes
which the progress of the age and material inven
tions were making in all that relates to war ; and
that he would not adapt the British army to the re
quirements of the time. He would not hear of a
short-service system, or of the formation of a re
serve ; Brown Bess, in his eyes, was a perfect weapon;
he thought rifled guns and field shells of very little
value. But in this conservatism, it may fairly be
said, he trod in the footsteps of the chiefs of the
Continental armies ; Soult and Paskievitch clung to
the traditions of the past, in which they had been

382 Wellington
trained and had learned war ; Moltke alone — then an
unknown subaltern — had perceived what the future
could effect for the mUitary art. Yet it would be a
mistake to suppose that, as Commander-in-Chief,
Wellington did not do England great and patri
otic service. From an early period he saw how, as
has always happened, British statesmen, under the
influence of a prolonged peace, were allowing the
army to be dangerously reduced in strength, and
how the defences of the country were being ne
glected. When in the Cabinet of Peel he entreated
that the subject should be considered with care, and
that the military power of the nation should be in
creased. But the time was one of economic reform
and retrenchment : the warnings of the great veteran
were but little heeded. His celebrated letter to Sir
John Burgoyne, written just before the tornado of
1848, showed how insecure was the position of Eng
land, and how exposed to foreign invasion ; it had
a decisive effect on the national mind ; despite too
long intervals of thoughtlessness and neglect, the
country has never since been so completely unpre
pared for war. It should be added that Wellington
lived to see an increase of the militia force, a ' re
form he had always had at heart, made by the first
administration of Lord Derby, in 1852.
Apart from his brief apprenticeship in the Irish
Parliament, the political life of Wellington extended
over a third of a century. He can hardly be called
a great statesman ; but no eminent English soldier
has ever given proof of such statesmanlike qualities ;
here he was by many degrees superior to Marl-

Declining Years — Death — Character 383
borough, consummate in diplomacy, but not in poli
tics. If we recoUect that he belonged to the
Protestant noblesse of Ireland, an exclusive oligarchy
of race and creed ; that he did not enter the Cabinet
until he was nearly fifty ; that he had been in com
mand abroad for a series of years, and that his
knowledge of England was comparatively small, it
appears surprising that his political distinction was
what it was, and that he did so much as a civil serv
ant of the State. The secret is to be found in his
wisdom and well-balanced judgment, and in his noble
sense of public duty ; it must be borne in mind,
besides, that in India, in the Peninsula, even in
France, he had to play a remarkable part in political
affairs. His antecedents and the associations of his
career connected him with the Tory party ; but he
was usually a moderate and fair-minded Tory ; he
had nothing in common with the school of the ex
treme followers of Pitt. And hence it was that, as
a general rule, he adapted himself to the circum
stances of the time ; seldom resisted measures he
foresaw were required ; was, like Peel, a Conservative
in the truest sense of the word. His two greatest
achievements in the sphere of politics were the
emancipation of the Irish Catholics in 1829, and his
conduct in opposition from 1833 to 1841 ; he
accomplished a great reform most unjustly delayed,
and no one else could have carried it out at the
time ; he gradually restored the balance of parties in
the State, with the skilful and admirable assistance
of Peel, and secured for a great Conservative states
man a decisive triumph. Wellington, no doubt.

384 Wellington
made grave political mistakes ; he rather discredited
himself when he broke with Canning; he was too
much <?f a dictator when Prime Minister ; he did not
rightly interpret the signs of the time ; his stubborn
resistance to the Reform Bill cannot be justified.
But he sincerely believed that Parliamentary reform
was incompatible with the ideal he had ever be
fore him, " that the King's Government must be a
strong government"; and with many of the ablest
men in the country he was convinced that reform
would be fatal to the State. For the rest, Welling
ton in politics, as in all his public conduct, was
animated by a patriotism always, in the long run,
acknowledged ; it was this that gave him such weight
in the national councils.
Wellington was not an orator or a graceful public
speaker, but, like men of powerful and clear intellect,
he always managed to convey his meaning to an
audience he addressed ; not a few of his sayings
were epigrammatic, and made a strong impression.
The enormous mass of his despatches on military and
civil affairs give us a striking idea of his great
capacity ; they are very superior to those of Marl
borough ; they are written in a simple and admirable
style, which perfectly express the writer's thoughts ;
occasionally they contain terse and happy phrases.
The Duke was an excellent country gentleman ; as a
landlord he was just and considerate ; he was, more
over, a dUigent man of business ; his estate of
Strathfieldsaye, one of the gifts of the nation,
would, he used to say, have been ruinous to any
other owner ; yet he contrived to make it pay, and

Declining Years — Death — Character 385
he greatly improved it. He was fond of the chase
and other rural pursuits ; men still living remember
the spare figure in scarlet crossing steadily, but hardly
skilfully, a somewhat diflficult country. The Duke
was seen at his best in the social hour, at festive
gatherings in great country houses ; he had real en
joyment in these; he was occasionally induced to
talk of his campaigns ; his anecdotes and remarks,
as we know from Greville, were always interesting,
sometimes of the greatest value. He necessarily
filled a conspicuous place in the world of London ;
for many years his surviving companions in arms
assembled at his board at the Waterloo banquets ;
he was a constant and most favoured guest of his
sovereign ; the aristocracy of all parties vied to do
him honour. Yet he appears to have been less at
home in London than among his friends in the
country ; in truth, he had so much ofificial work to do
that he had but little time for what is called society.
As I have said, he was not happy in his domestic
life ; his wife was hardly a fitting helpmeet ; he stood
rather aloof from his immediate family ; his home
was not blessed by devoted affection. Though he
was really attached to a few friends, he was lonely,
honoured and revered as he was ; he never attracted
profound human sympathy; this was one of his
defects as a chief ; he was respected by his oflficers
and soldiers, never loved. His correspondence, as
may be supposed, was immense ; he was punctual
and precise in attending to it ; his repUes to imperti
nent and frivolous letters, which came in in thousands,
were to the point and often very amusing. As we

386

Wellington

look back at that long and glorious career of renown
in arms and civic virtue, we feel that the poet has
written the truth of Wellington :
" Rich in saving common sense
And as the greatest only are.
In his simplicity sublime.
O good gray head which all men knew,
O voice from which their omens all men drew, '
O iron nerve to true occasion true,
O fall'n at length that tower of strength
Which stood four square to all the winds that blew! "

INDEX

Aberdeen, Lord, contrasted
with Palmerston, 368
Albuera, battle of, 151.
Alexander, Czar, conduct of,
during Napoleon's inva
sion of Russia, i8g, 192
Almeida, taken by Massena,
117; besieged by Welling
ton, 130, 133, 136
Aspern, reverse of Napoleon
at, 90
Assaye, battle of, 36-38
Austria, attitude of, toward
France after Portuguese
Campaign, 140
B
Badajoz, besieged and taken
by Soult, 128, 131; siege
of, abandoned by Beres
ford, 150; siege of, re
newed by Wellington 152;
description of, 153; meet
ing of Soult and Marmont
at, 153; Soult and Mar
mont decline battle with
Wellington at, 154; be
sieged for the third time
and taken by Wellington,
164-169
Baird, General, supplanted
by Wellington m com

mand of the Army of the
Nizam, 2 2 ; victorious at
the siege of Seringapatam,
2 5 ; supplanted by Wel
lington as Govemor of
Seringapatam, 2 7 ; sent to
Egypt instead of Welling
ton, 30
Bautzen, battle of, 194
Baylen, battle of, 56
Beauharnais, Eugene, Com
mander of remnant of
Grand Army after retreat
from Moscow, 192
Belgium, revolution in, 342
Bentinck, Lord William, su
perseded Murray, 227
Beresford, siege of Badajoz
by, 150; raised siege of
Badajoz, 150; battle of
Albuera, 151; battle of
Toulouse, 251, 252
Bessieres, Marshal, rein
forced Massena in Spain,
133; conduct at battle of
Fuentes d'Onoro, 136;
guarding territory between
France and Madrid, 148
Blucher, Prince, weakness of
France perceived by, in
18 II, 140; battle of Sois
sons, 247; battle of Ligny,
273-278; operations of
June 17, 1815, 2gi; battle
of Waterloo, 301, 302;

387

388

Index

Bliicher — Co-nX 'd
invaded France with Wel
lington, 308; advance of,
into France, 312; before
Paris, 313; prevented from
destroying bridge on the
Seine, 316
Borodino, battle of, 189
Bourmont, treachery of, 265
Bulow, General von, battle
of Waterloo, 296-304
Burgos, successfully defended
against Wellington, 180,
181
Burrard, General, at Vi-
meiro, 66
Busaco, battle of, 11 9-1 2 2

Caffarelli, General, succeeded
Dorsenne in command of
army of the North, 171
Canning, George, policy of,
320; distrusted by Welling
ton, 328; administration as
Prime Minister, 329, 330;
advocate of Catholic Cause,
death, 330
Cantillon, Napoleon's legacy
to, 317
Caroline, Queen, trial of, 320
Castlereagh, Lord, replaced
by Wellington in Vienna
Assembly, 257
Catholic Emancipation Bill
carried, 337; significance
of. 3,38-340
Charles IV. of Spain, abdica
tion of, 54
Chartism, failure of, 372
Ciudad Rodrigo, fall of, 116;
blockaded by Wellington,
155; taken by Wellington,
160
Cintra, Convention of, 67
Clare election, 335
Clausel, Gen., at battle of
Salamanca, 176, 177; ral
lied forces after Salamanca,

179; with Joseph Bona
parte in 18 13, 203; battle
of Orthes, 243, 244
Coimbra, taken by Massena,
123
Conservatives, new name for
Tories, 3 54
Copenhagen, siege of, 50
Corunna, victory of Moore
over Soult at, 77
Craddock, Sir John, in Lis
bon, 81
Crawford, Lieutenant, at bat
tle of Busaco, 121; killed
at siege of Ciudad Rodrigo,
161
Cuesta, Gen., colleague of
Wellesley in advance up
the Tagus Valley, 90 ; esti
mate of, 91 ; battle of Tala
vera, 94-97 D
Dalrymple, Gen., at Conven
tion of Cintra, 67
D'AngoulSme, Due, rising
against Napoleon organ
ised by, 246
Davdut, Minister of War, at
titude of, in regard to de
fence of IParis, 311
D'Erlon, Gen,, reinforced
Massena, 128; at battle of
Fuentes d'Onoro, 136; at
battles of the Pyrenees,
221-224; conduct of, on
June 15, 1815, 265; battle
of Ligny, 273-278; battle
of Quatre Bras, 278-281;
battle of Waterloo, 296-
304
Dhoondia Waugh, defeat of,
29
Disraeli, Benjamin, opponent
of Peel, 368; brilliantly de
nounced Peel for his at
tempt to establish free
trade in com, 370

Index

389

Dorsenne, General, successor
to Bessieres, in command of
French army in the North,
148; responsible for loss of
Ciudad Rodrigo, 162; suc
ceeded by Caffarelli in
command of army of the
North, 171
Douro, crossing of, by Wel
lesley, 86
Dresden, entry of Napoleon
in triumph, 194; battle of,
229
Dubreton, commandant at
Burgos, 180 E
El Bodon, escape of Welling
ton from Marmont at, 157
England, condition of, after
Wellington's campaign in
Portugal, 148; conditions
in, on retum of Wellington
from France, 318—323
Espinosa, victory of Napol
eon over Spanish at, 75

Ferdinand, acknowledged as
King of Spain by Na
poleon, 241
Fitzgerald, Vesey, appointed
to the Board of Trade, 334
Fouche, intrigue of, against
Napoleon, 309; made head
of Provisional Govem
ment, 310; plans of, for
the restoration of Louis
XVIII., 311 ; council called
by, to consider defence of
Paris, 311; negotiations of,
with Allies, 311; restora
tion of Louis XVIII., 314
Foy, General, sent by Massena
on mission to Napoleon,
125, 127; with Joseph
Bonaparte at battle of

Vitoria, 205; at battles of
the Pyrenees, 223
France, discontent in, after
failure of French campaign
in Portugal, 141; fall of
Bourbon dynasty, Duke of
Orleans, made lang, 342
Fuentes d'Onoro, battle of,
133-136 G
Gazan, General, at battle of
Vitoria, 207, 208
George IV., representative of
life of ruling classes, 319;
influenced by Wellington,
328; opposition of, to Cath
oUc Emancipation, 336;
death, 343
Gerard, conduct, on June 15,
1815, 265; battle of Ligny,
273-278
Germany, attitude of, toward
France after Portuguese
campaign, 140
Gladstone, W. E., rising
lieutenant under Peel, 369
Gneisenau, Field Marshal
Count, lack of sympathy
with Wellington before
Waterloo, 295
Goderich, Lord, Govemment
of, 33°
Godoy, favorite of Charles
IV. of Spain, 54
Gough, Viscount, defeated at
ChillianwaUa, 372
Graham, Lieut., in command
of Wellington's left wing in
1813, 201; at siege of San
Sebastian. 225
Grey, Lord, leader of Whigs,
speech of for reform, 344;
made Prime Minister with
Whig administration, 346;
resignation of, 350; retum
of his administration to
power, 350; second resig
nation of, 355

390

Index

Grouchy, Marshal, opera
tions of, before Waterloo,
294, 295; battle of Water
loo, 296-304; retreat from
Wavre to Givet, 309; in
Paris, 313 H
Hanau, battle of, 230
Hardinge, Lieut.-Col. Sir
Henry, relief of Beresford
at Albuera by, 151; praised
by Wellington for exploits
in India, 372
Hill, Field Marshal Viscount,
lieutenant of Wellington in
Portugal, 116; at battle of
Busaco, 1 1 9-1 2 2 ; detached
to lay siege to Badajoz,
150; destruction of bridge
at Almaraz by, 170; at
battle of Vitoria, 208-210;
battle of Orthes, 243, 244;
battle of Toulouse, 251,
252; appointed Comman
der-in-Chief, 333 ; retire
ment of, 365
Hundred Days, the 259; close
of the, 309
Huskisson, Mr., resignation
of, accepted by WeUing
ton, 333

India, condition of, in 1798,
16-22
Ireland, condition of, in
1807, 45; state of, from
1818-1821, 321-323; grave
disturbances in, 335; Cath
olic Emancipation Bill car
ried, 337; serious outbreak
in 1833, 354
Irish CathoUc ReUef BiU of
1793. 6

J

Joseph Bonaparte made King
of Spain, 55; evacuated
Madrid, 56; battle of Tala
vera, 94-97; retreated to
Madrid, 97; govemment
of, in Spain, 143; abdica
tion of, 143; persuaded by
Napoleon to retum to
« Madrid, 146; in command
of Army of the Centre,
148; conduct after Sala
manca, escape from Mad
rid, 178; re-entered Ma
drid, Nov. 2, 1812, 182;
retreat of, before Welling
ton in May, 1813, 202—204;
battle of Vitoria, 210; dis
graced by Napoleon after
Vitoria, 211
Jourdan, Gen. , battle of Tala
vera, 94-97; with Joseph
Bonaparte in 1813, 203;
before battle of Vitoria,
207
Junot, Gen., march of,
against Lisbon, 52; con
duct of, in Lisbon, 60; de
feated at Vimiero, 66; at
battle of Busaco, 1 19-122,
relations with Massena;

133

K

Khyber Pass, tragedy of, 363
Kutusoff, Russian comman
der during invasion of Na
poleon, 189-191

Lafayette, intrigues of, for
the deposition of Napoleon,
310
Lake, Lord, operations of,
against the Mahrattas, 39

Index

391

Lapisse, General, colleague of
Victor and Soult in Spain , 7 9
Leipzig, battle of, 229
Leith, General, lietitenant of
Wellington in Portugal,
116; at battle of Busaco,
iig-122
Ligny, battle of, 273-278
Liverpool, Lord, insisted on
Wellington's recall to Eng
land, 256; recommenda
tions of, for the reduction
of France, 315
Lobau, General, at battle of
Waterloo, 298
Loison, General, in coinmand
of a division at Busaco,
121; given command of
Ney, 133
Louis XVIIL, joined Wel
lington, 312; restoration
of, 314
Lutzen, battle of, 194
M
Macdonald, Marshal, defeat
of, on the Katzbach, 229
Mdhratta War, 32-40
Malo laroslavetz, battle of,
• igo
Marie Louise, Empress, 107
Marmont, Marshal, at Sala
manca reorganising Mas
sena's army, 148; joined
Soult at Badajoz, 153; de
cUned battle with Welling
ton, 154; failed to attack
WelUngton at El Bodon,
157; policy of, after fall of
Ciudad Rodrigo, 162; pol
icy of, after faU of Badajoz,
172; estimate of, by French
soldiery, 173; defeated at
battle of Salamanca, 176,
177
Massena, Marshal, m com
mand of expedition against
Portugal, 115; estimate of.

116; advance of, into Por
tugal, 117; defeat of at
Busaco, 1 19-122; estimate
of his generalship in cam
paign in Portugal, 125, 137;
retreat from Portugal, 129,
130; defeat at Sabugal,
130; defeated at Fuentes
d'Onoro, 133-136; sup
planted by Marmont, 137;
refused to take field in
Southem France, 180;
placed by Fouch6 at the
head of the National Guard
of Paris, 311
Medellin, defeat of the Span
ish at, 79
Melbourne, Lord, made Prime
Minister, 355; induced to
resign, 355; restored to
office, 356; second resig
nation of, 362; retumed
to power as result of Palace
intrigue, 362; fall of gov
emment of, 364
Metternich, chief power in
Austria in 1 8 1 1 , 140; dip
lomacy of, during Na
poleon's campaign against
Prussia, 195; interview
with Napoleon in 1813, 213
Moira, Lord, in the campaign
of 1794 in Holland, 10-12
Moore, General, sent to Por
tugal, 58; campaign of, in
Spain, 74-79; victory of
Corunna, death, 77
Mornington, Earl of, father
of Wellington, 2
Mornington, Lady, niother of
Wellington, 3
Mornington, Richard Welles
ley, Earl of, brother of
Wellington, .see Wellesley,
Richard, Marquis
Moscow, buming of, 190
Murat, Gen., Govemor of
Madrid, 54 ; King of Naples
55; entrusted by Napoleon

392

Index

Murat — Co-nt'd
with command of invalided
troops at Smorgone, 191;
treason of, 240
Murray, Sir John, detached
by Wellington to cross
Douro, 87; forced to raise
the siege of Tarragona,
217; superseded by Lord
William Bentinck, 227
Mysore, settlement of, 28
N
Napoleon Bonaparte, birth,
i; in Egypt, 16; resolved
upon invasion of Portugal,
S 2 ; extorted Crown of
Spain from Spanish Bour
bons, 54; reverses of, in
Spain, 56; interview with
the Czar at Erfurt, 72; in
vaded Spain, 75; victories
of Espinosa and Tudela,
75-76; second triumphal
entry into Vienna, 90; re
verse at Aspern, 90; vic
tory at Wagram, 103;
supreme on the Continent,
104; error in not conduct
ing Peninsular Campaign
in person, 106-108; prepa
rations for campaign
against Portugal, 115; di
rected campaign in Portu
gal, 127; prepared for
Russian campaign, 132;
Continent aroused to ac
tion against, as a result
of Wellington's Portuguese
campaign, 140; national
apathy on birth of son to,
141; policy of, after re
verses in Portugal and
Spain, 144; invasion of
Russia, 188-192; conduct
after Russian disaster, 193 ;
battle of Lutzen, entry into
Dresden, battle of Baut

zen, 194; armistice of Pleis
nitz, 196; policy for ending
war in Peninsula, 198, 199;
estimate of power of, after
Vitoria, 214; battle of
Dresden, 229; battle of
Leipzig, 229; victories of
Vauchamps, Montmirail,
Montereau, 247 ; reverses
of Laon and Arcis-sur-
Aube, 248; fall of Paris,
249; abdication of, 249;
escape from Elba, 257;
march from Grenoble to
Paris, 258; offered to ac
cept settlement of the
Continent made at Vienna,
260; military preparations
of 1815, 260-264; plans for
June 15, 1815, 265; gained
advantage, 266; battle of
Ligny, 273-278; estimate
of position after Quatre
Bras, 282; state of health
before Waterloo, 284;
operations of June 17th,
1815, 285-292; battle of
Waterloo, 296-304; tribute
to English soldiery, 304;
treachery of Fouche, 309;
end of the Hundred Days,
309; second abdication of,
310; at Malmaison, 312;
sent captive to St. Helena,
310; return of his ashes
from St. Helena, 360
Ney, Marshal, colleague of
Soult, in Spain, 79; battle
of Busaco, 1 1 9-1 22; battle
of Redinha, 129; deprived
of command by Massena,
130; brave defence of the
rear in retreat from Mos
cow, 191; at Dennewitz,
229; failure of, on June
15th and i6th, 181 5, 270;
battle of Quatre Bras, 278-
281; battle of Waterloo,
300; execution of, 318

Index

393

O
O'Connell, Daniel, efforts of,
for Ireland, 322, 323;
Catholic Association found
ed by, 327; opposed
Fitzgerald at Clare elec
tion, 334; triumph of, 335;
angered by coercive meas
ures towards Irish, 354;
attitude of, in House of
Commons, 358; Repeal
movement of 1843, 367
Oporto, taken by Soult, 79
Orthes, battle of, 243, 244
Oudinot, Marshal, defeated
near Berlin, 229

Pakenham, Gen., brother-in-
law of Wellington, at bat
tle of Salamanca, 175, 176
Palmerston, Lord, resigna
tion from Wellington's
Cabinet, 333; successful
policy in the East, 363;
disliked by Queen and her
Consort, 371
Paris, fall of, 248
Parliamentary Reform Bill,
attempts to pass, failed
three times, 350; passage
and effects of, 351
Peel, Sir Robert, sympathy
of Wellington with, 328;
with Wellington advocated
Catholic Emancipation in
Ireland, 336; made Prime
Minister, 356; able conduct
of, 356; resignation of, 356;
estrangement with Well
ington, 358; installed as
Prime Minister, but forced
out at once by Palace in
trigue, 362; entire recon
ciliation with Wellington,
364; for second time Prime
Minister, 364; difficulties of

his second administration,
366; the great apostle of
Free Trade 367; ascendency
weakened by Free-Trade
policy, 368; proposed sus
pension of Corn Laws to
relieve Irish famine of
1845, 369; second resig
nation of, 370; retumed
to office owing to Lord
RusseU's inability to form
govemment, 370; excited
great opposition by at
tempting to establish free
trade in com, 370; death,
371
Philippon, defender of Bada
joz, 153; escape of, at fall
of IBadajoz, 169
Pius VIL, Napoleon excom
municated by, 141; con
cessions wrung from, by
Napoleon, 144
Portugal, rising of, against
the French, 57
Prague, Congress of, 213
Provisional Govemment of
France, proclamations of,
310
Pyrenees, battles of, 221-224

Quatre Bras, battle of, 278-
281 R
Redinha, battle of, 129
Reille, General, with J"oseph
Bonaparte, in June, 1813,
205 ; at battle of Vitoria,
208-210; at battles of the
Pyrenees, 222, 223; battle
of Toulouse, 251, 252; bat
tle of Ligny, 273-278
Reynier, General, battle of
Busaco, 1 19-122; relations
with Massena, 133; at bat
tle of Fuentes d'Onoro, 136

394

Index

Rolica, battle of, 62
Russell, Lord John, first Re
form Bill, introduced by,
350; advocated repeal of
Com Laws, 369; failed in
attempt to form govem
ment, 370; administration
of, 371
Russia, attitude of, toward
France after Portuguese
campaign, 140

Sabugal, battle of, 130
Saint Helena, visited by Wel
lington, 43; Napoleon ex
iled to, 310
Salamanca, battle of, 176
San Sebastian, siege of, 224-
226
Schamhorst, Lieut. Gen. von,
policy of, to strengthen
Prussian army, 140
Schwartzenberg, Gen., con
duct of, on failure of Rus
sian invasion, 192; battle
of Arcis-sur-Aube, 248
Seringapatam, fall of, 25
Smolensk, battle of, i8g
Souham, General, in pursuit
of Wellington in retreat
from Burgos, 183; joined
by Joseph, 183
Soult, Marshal, left by Na
poleon in charge of Span
ish campaign, defeated by
Moore at Corunna, 7 7 ;
siege of Oporto, 79; esti
mate of, 82; compelled
to abandon Oporto, 86;
placed in supreme com
mand in Spain, 92; delay
in reinforcing Massena,
1 28 ; in Andalusia, 149; de
feated at Albuera, 151;
joined Marmont at Bada
joz, 153; declined battle
with Wellington, 154; pol

icy of, at time of fall of
Badajoz, 169; recalled
from Spain, 197; sent by
Napoleon to try to repair
disaster of Vitoria, 211;
invested with plenary pow
ers for reorganising French
armies after Vitoria, 217;
estimate of ability of, 218;
battles of the Pyrenees,
221—224; attempt of, to
relieve San Sebastian, 226;
preparations against Wel
lington, 230, 231; difficul
ties in Spain in 1814, 240;
battle of Orthes, 243, 244;
estimate of, after battle of
Orthes, 245 ; battle of Tou
louse, 251, 252; compared
with Wellington, after
Toulouse, 253, 254; made
chief of French staff, 269;
present at coronation of
Queen Victoria, 361
Spain, rising of, against Na
poleon, 55
Suchet, Gen., in command in
Aragon, 148; conduct of,
in Spain, 149; Tarragona
taken by, 158; created
duke of Albufera, 181; op
portunity of, to attack
WelUngton after Vitoria,
217; failure to act with
• Soult, 231

Talavera, battle of, 94-97;
indignation of Napoleon at
battle of, IGO
Talleyrand, made guardian
of Spanish royal family, 54
Tamworth Manifesto, 356
Tarragona, taken bv Suchet,
158
Test and Corporation Acts,
repealed, 333

Index

395

Tippoo Sahib, plotting
against British rule in
India, 15; defeated and
killed at the fall of Serin
gapatam, 25; indemnity
paid to the sons of, 28
Toulouse, battle of, 251, 252
Tudela, victory of Napoleon
over Spanish at, 76
U
United States, War of 181 2
between England and, 187

Valencia, taken by the
French, 159
Vandamme, Gen., defeat of,
at Culm, 229; at battle of
Ligny, 273-278
Victor, Marshal, victorious at
battle of Medellin, 79; bat
tle of Talavera, 94-97
Victoria, Qufeen, accession of,
360; coronation of, 361;
tlje difficulty of the Ladies
of the Bedchamber, 362;
marriage and popularity
of, 363
Vimiero, battle of, 63-66
Vitoria, battle of, 208-210
VitroUes, Baron, sent by
Fouch6 to negotiate with
the aUies, 311 W
Wagram, defeat of Archduke
Charles by Napoleon at,
103
Waterloo, battle of, 296-304;
reflections on the battle of,
304-307
Wellesley, or Wesley, family
of, 2
Wellesley, Arthur, Duke of
Wellington, see Wellington

Wellesley, Richard, Marquis,
brother of WelUngton,
scholarship of, 3 ; Governor-
General of India, 16;
changed name from Wes
ley to Wellesley, 1 6 ; made
Marquis Wellesley, 28; su
perseded by Cornwallis, as
Governor-General of India,
41 ; retumed to England,
41 ; summary of his career
in India, 41-42 ; Irish re
form, inaugurated by, J26
Wellington, birth, i ; family,
2; education at Eton, 3;
education at Angers, 3 ;
first commission, 3; on the
staff of Lord Westmore
land, 5; a member of the
Irish House of Commons,
5 ; Ueutenant-colonel of the
33d Foot under Lord
Moira, 8 ; distinguished
himself in campaigns be
tween League of Europe
and France, 9-13; applied
for post in the Civil Ser
vice, 1 3 ; failed to secure
civil post, 14; prevented
from going on expedition
to West Indies, 14; sent
with 33d to India, landed
at Calcutta, 15; changed
name from Wesley to Wel
lesley, 16; failed to capture
an outpost, 24; command
at the sack of Seringapa
tam, 26; made govemor of
Seringapatam, 26; made
military govemor of My
sore, 28; defeated Dhoon
dia Waugh, 29; suppressed
corruption in India, 29;
supplanted by General
Baird in command of ex
pedition to Egypt, 30; the
battle of Assaye, 36-38;
ambitious and irritable
spirit of, 41 ; visit of, to St.

39^

Index

WeUington— CoMi'rf
Helena, 43; retumed to
England, 43; consulted by
Pitt, 43; entered House of
Commons, 44; made chief
Secretary for Ireland, 47;
marriage, 45 ; policy of, in
Ireland,47-49 ; commanded
a division at siege of Copen
hagen, 50; made lieuten
ant-general, 58; sent into
Portugal against Junot,
58-62; landed at Mondego
Bay, 59; battle of RoUca,
62 ; chafed at terms of con
vention of Cintra, 67;
marked for distinction by
Court of Enquiry, 67 ;
placed at the head of Brit
ish and Portuguese army,
at Lisbon, 79-81; crossed
the Douro in his advance
against Soult, 86; ad
vanced with Cuesta up the
Tagus Valley, 90 ; battle of
Talavera, 94-97; made
Duke of Wellington, 99;
placed at the head of all
the Portuguese forces, no;
defence of Portugal, 112-
114; victory of Busaco,
iig-122; estimate of cam
paign of 1810-1811 in Por
tugal, 137, 138; Portuguese
Campaign of, aroused Con
tinent to action against
Napoleon, 140; confidence
of, after campaign in Por
tugal, 147; policy of, after
campaign of 1810-1811,
149; preparations for bat
tle near Badajoz, 153, 154;
in danger at El Bodon,
157; made English earl
and Spanish duke in conse
quence of taking of Ciudad
Rodrigo, 162; policy of,
after fall of Ciudad Rod
rigo, 163; third siege and

taking of Badajoz, by,
164-169; poUcy of, after
fall of Badajoz, 170; vic
torious at battle of Sala
manca, 176; entered Ma
drid, 178; not at his best in
strategy, 179; raised in
British peerage in conse
quence of Salamanca, 179;
left Madrid, September i,
1812, 179; failed to take
Burgos, 180, 181; evaded
united French armies, and
reached Ciudad Rodrigo,
184; severe condemnation
of his troops, 184 ; estimate
of, at time of retreat from
Burgos, 184-186; position
of, at close of 1812, 196;
preparations against Na
poleon, in 1813, 200; battle
of Vitoria, 208-210; esti
mate of his abiUty in cam
paign leading up to Vitoria,
212; made Field Marshal
of England, and Duque
di Vitoria, 215; state of
army after Vitoria, 216;
siege of San Sebastian,
225 ; policy of, after taking
of San Sebastian, 227; en
tered France, 230; battle
of Orthes, 243, 244; battle
of Tovdouse, 251. 252; com
pared with Soult after
Toulouse, 253, 254; raised
to the highest rank in the
English peerage, 255; en
deavoured to compose dis
putes between Spanish
Cortes and Ferdinand, 256 ;
sent as Ambassador to
France, 256; surveyed
fortresses on Belgian fron
tier, 257; replaced Castle
reagh in Vienna Assembly,
257; signed treaty pledg
ing England against Na
poleon, 259; proposed to

Index

397

Wellington— ComZ 'd
invade France, 261 ; poor
strategy of, 266, 267; situa
tion before Ligny, 273;
battle of Quatre Bras,
278-281; battle of Water
loo, 296-304; tactics of,
at Waterloo, 304; invaded
France with Bliicher, 308;
wisdom and moderation of,
313; with Bliicher before
Paris, 313; his service to
Prance, 314-317; conduct
of, before restoration of
Louis XVIII., 314; fore
most man in Europe, 314;
estimate of his ability, 314,
315; prevented dismem
berment of France, 315;
prevented Bliicher from
destroying bridge on the
Seine, 316; aided in reduc
ing charges made by coali
tions for operations of
1815, 316; adjusted com
pensation of France to
Allies, 316; placed in com
mand of army of occupa
tion, 316; attitude towards
in France from 1815-1818,
317; made Master of Ord
nance and Commander-in-
Chief, 318; retum to Eng
land, 318; in the Cabinet
of Lord Liverpool, 318?;
his position in the state
after the war, 323-328;
identified with "Tory party,
324; lack of sympathy
with the Greeks, 326; atti
tude towards Ireland, 326,
32 7 ; his influence over
George IV. and leading
pubUc men, 327, 328; his
sympathy with Peel, 328;
break with Canning, re
signed office of Comman
der-in-Chief, 328; made
Prime Minister, 331; his

influence and position in
European affairs, 331; at
titude on questions of the
day in England, 332 ; resig
nation of Palmerston from
Cabinet, 333 ; persuaded by
Peel to advocate Catholic
Emancipation in Ireland,
336; outcry against, on
passage of Catholic Eman
cipation Bill, 338; opposi
tion to, after passage of
Emancipation Bill, 340;
death of George IV. and
accession of William IV,
343 ; answer to Lord Grey's
plea for reform, 344 ; popu
lar displeasure against,
345, 346; fall of adminis
tration of, 346, 347 ; reason
for his attitude towards
reform, 347, 348; failed in
attempt to form new ad
ministration, 350; attitude
of, towards passage of Re
form Bills, 351, 352; great
unpopularity of, 352; prac
tically made dictator on
resignation of Melbourne,
355 ; advocated Peel for
Prime Minister, resigna
tion of Peel, 356; estrange
ment with Peel, 358; made
Chancellor of Oxford, 358;
I attitude during Melbourne
administration, 359; ob
jected to the retum of Na
poleon's ashes from St.
Helena, 360; coronation of
Queen Victoria, 361; con
sideration for Marshal
Soult, 361, 362; entire re
conciliation with Peel, 364;
Peel for second time Prime
Minister, 364; held seat in
Peel's Cabinet, 365; re
tumed to command of
army on retirement of Hill,
365; carried Peel's Com

398

Index

Wellington — Cont'd
Law through the House of
Lords, 371; most trusted
servant of Queen, 371;
vigour and ability in old
age, 371-373; plan of de
fending London against
Chartist outbreak, 372;
desired to transfer com
mand of army to Prince
Consort, 372; in last days
held in universal venera
tion, 373; death, 374; fun
eral, 374; physical appear
ance, 375; public and priv
ate life, 375-376; estimate
of the soldier, 377-382 ; es
timate of the statesman,
382-384; estimate of the
man, 384-386;

William IV., accession of,
343 ; appealed to Welling
ton to form an administra
tion, 350; death of, 360
Wrede, Field Marshal, defeat
of, at Hanau, 230

York, Gen., conduct of, on
failure of Russian inva
sion, 191

Zieten, Gen. von, at battle of
Waterloo, 303

%J' ^ #^ V

^^

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"^P^^^^^M^

r^Es

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^

^^^

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