SECTION IV: CHAPTER VI

THE COURT OF INQUIRY

There was another and a less pleasant surprise in store for Wellesley when he landed at Plymouth. He learnt that if he himself disliked the armistice of August 22, and the Convention of Cintra, the British public had gone far beyond him, and was in a state of frantic rage concerning them. To his anger and amazement he also learnt that he himself was considered no less responsible for the two agreements than were Dalrymple and Burrard. The fact that the former had told him to set his signature opposite to that of Kellermann on the document signed at Vimiero, had misled the world into regarding him as the negotiator and framer of the armistice. ‘Every whisperer who disliked the name of Wellesley[280]’—and Sir Arthur’s brother, the Governor-General, had made it very unpopular in certain quarters—was busy propagating the story that of the three generals who had lately commanded in Portugal, each one was as slack and supine as the others.

The wave of indignation which swept across England on the receipt of the news of the Convention of Cintra is, at this distance of time, a little hard to understand. Successes had not been so plentiful on the Continent during the last fifteen years, that an agreement which gave back its liberty to a whole kingdom need have been criticized with vindictive minuteness. But the news of Baylen had set the public mind on the look-out for further triumphs, and when the dispatches which gave an account of Roli?a and of Vimiero had come to hand, there had been a confident expectation that the next news received would be that Junot’s army had been scattered or captured, and that Lisbon had been set free. Then came a gap of thirteen days, caused by Dalrymple’s strange fit of silence. The only intelligence that reached London in this interval was the Bishop of Oporto’s letter of protest against the armistice, in which, without giving any definite details about that agreement,[p. 292] he denounced it as insulting to Portugal and unworthy of England. The public was prepared, therefore, to hear that something timid and base had been done, when Dalrymple’s dispatch of September 3, enclosing the Convention of Cintra, came to hand. It was easy to set forth the terms of that treaty in an odious light. Junot, it was said, had been beaten in the field, he was completely isolated from all the other French armies, and his surrender must have followed in a few days, if the British generals had only chosen to press their advantage. Instead of this, they preferred to let him return to France with the whole of his troops, and with most of his plunder. He was not even compelled to release a corresponding number of British prisoners in return for the freedom secured to his army. In fact, his position was much better after than before his defeat at Vimiero, for the Convention granted him a quiet and safe return home with his force intact, while, even if he had won some success in battle, the best that he would have been able to secure himself would have been a retreat on Northern Spain, through the midst of great dangers. Excitable politicians and journalists used the most exaggerated language, and compared the Convention with that of Kloster Seven, and the conduct of the generals who had not pressed the campaign to its logical end with Admiral Byng’s shirking before Minorca. Caricatures were issued showing Dalrymple, Burrard, and Wellesley sporting the white feather, or hanging from three gibbets as traitors[281]. Nor was Admiral Cotton spared: he was denounced in bitter terms for taking the Russian ships as ‘deposits,’ when he should have towed them into Spithead as prizes: moreover the repatriation of the Russian crews was asserted to be a deadly blow at our unfortunate ally the King of Sweden.

The rage against the Convention was not confined to any one class or faction in the state. If some Whigs tried to turn it into the shape of an attack on the government, there were plenty of Tories who joined in the cry, begging their leaders in the ministry to dismiss and punish the three unpopular generals. A number of public meetings were held with the object of forcing the hands of the Duke of Portland and his colleagues, but the most prominent part in the agitation was taken by the Corporation of London.[p. 293] Recalling the old days of Wilkes and Beckford, they resolved that the Lord Mayor, with a deputation of Sheriffs, Aldermen, and Common-Councillors, should present a petition to the King begging him to order ‘an inquiry into this dishonourable and unprecedented transaction, for the discovery and punishment of those by whose misconduct and incapacity the cause of the kingdom and its allies has been so shamelessly sacrificed.’

Accordingly such a petition was laid before the King on October 12. Its terms are worth a moment’s attention, as they show very clearly the points on which popular indignation had been concentrated. ‘The treaty,’ it states, ‘is humiliating and degrading, because after a signal victory, by which the enemy appears to have been cut off from all means of succour or escape, we had the sad mortification of seeing the laurels so nobly acquired torn from the brows of our brave soldiers, and terms granted to the enemy disgraceful to the British name.... By this ignominious Convention British ships are to convey to France the French army and its plunder, where they will be at liberty immediately to recommence their active operations against us and our allies. And the full recognition of the title and dignity of Emperor of France[282], while all mention of the Government of Portugal is omitted, must be considered as highly disrespectful to the authorities of that country.’ There was another clause denouncing the sending back of the Russian sailors, but not so much stress was laid on this point. Finally the King is asked ‘in justice to the outraged feelings of a brave, injured, and indignant people, whose blood and treasure have been thus expended,’ to cause the guilty persons to be punished.

King George III replied to these flowers of oratory by a short speech which displays admirably that power of getting an occasional lucid glimpse of the obvious in which he was by no means deficient. He was fully sensible, he said, of the loyalty and good intentions of the City of London, but he wished the deputation to remember that to pronounce judgement without previous trial and investigation was hardly consonant with the principles of British justice. He was always ready to institute an inquiry when the honour of the British arms was in question: and the interposition of the[p. 294] City of London was not necessary to induce him to set one on foot in this case, when the hopes and expectations of the nation had been so much disappointed.

It was not, however, till seventeen days later that his majesty’s formal orders for the summoning of a Court of Inquiry ‘to investigate into the late Armistice and Convention concluded in Portugal, and all the circumstances connected therewith,’ were communicated to the Commander-in-Chief. Dalrymple and Burrard, both of whom had now returned to England, were directed to hold themselves in readiness to present themselves before the court, and Wellesley, for the same reason, was directed to abandon his project of going back to the Peninsula in order to serve under Sir John Moore.

The members of the celebrated Court of Inquiry, which commenced its sittings on November 14, 1808, were seven in number, all general officers of great respectability and advanced years, men more likely, for the most part, to sympathize with caution than with daring. The president was Sir David Dundas, the author of a celebrated drill-book which had long been the terror of young officers: the other members were Lord Moira, Lord Heathfield[283], the Earl of Pembroke, and Generals Craig, Sir G. Nugent, and Nicholls. Not one of them has left behind a name to be remembered, save indeed Lord Moira, who, as Lord Rawdon in the old American War, had won the victory of Hobkirk’s Hill, and who was destined to be the next Viceroy of India and to make the name of Hastings famous for a second time in the East.

The court began its sittings on November 14, and did not terminate them till December 22. In the great hall of Chelsea Hospital, where its proceedings were held, there was much warm debate. As the details of the Campaign of Portugal were gradually worked out, not only by the cross-examination of Dalrymple, Burrard, and Wellesley, but by that of many of the other officers of rank who had been in Portugal—Spencer, Acland, Ferguson, Lord Burghersh, and others—the points on which the verdict of the court must turn gradually became clear. They were six in number:—Had Burrard been justified in preventing Wellesley from pursuing the French at the end of the battle of Vimiero? Had Dalrymple erred in refusing to take Wellesley’s advice to march[p. 295] on Mafra the next morning? Should Kellermann’s offer of an armistice have been accepted on the twenty-second, and, if so, were the terms granted him too favourable? Lastly, was the Convention of Cintra itself justifiable under the existing circumstances, and were all its articles reasonable and proper? Much evidence was produced for and against each view on every one of these topics. On the first two Wellesley practically impeached Burrard and Dalrymple for unwarrantable slackness and timidity. He was so much in love with his own bold plans that his superior’s caution appeared to him contemptible. He stood up to them and cross-questioned them with an acidity and a complete want of deference that seemed very reprehensible to military men steeped in the old traditions of unquestioning deference to one’s senior officers. Sir Walter Scott, who followed the inquiry with great interest, called him ‘a haughty devil,’ but expressed his admiration for him at the same moment[284]. It is curious to find that Wellesley showed less anger with Burrard, whose caution on the afternoon of the twenty-first really wrecked his plan of campaign, than with Dalrymple. The latter had snubbed him on his first arrival, had persistently refused him his confidence, and would not state clearly to the court that the armistice, though it bore Wellesley’s name, had not been drawn up or approved in detail by him. Of the numerous minor witnesses who were examined, all who had served at Roli?a and Vimiero spoke on Wellesley’s side: Spencer and Ferguson were especially strong in their statements. The fact was that they were intensely proud of their two fights, and looked upon Burrard as the man who had prevented them from entering Lisbon in triumph after capturing Junot and his whole host. So strong was this feeling that the brigadiers and field-officers of the eight brigades that fought at Vimiero had presented Wellesley with a handsome testimonial—a service of plate worth ￡1,000—as a sort of mark of confidence in him, and of protest against those who had stayed his hand.

On the other hand, Burrard and Dalrymple urged all the justifications of caution. Each had arrived at a crisis, the details of which could not be properly known to him from sheer want of time to master them. Each acknowledged that Wellesley had vehemently pressed him to strike boldly and promptly, but thought that he had not been justified in doing so till he had made out for[p. 296] himself the exact situation of affairs. Burrard pleaded that Junot might have possessed reserves unknown to him, which might have changed the fortune of the fight if a headlong pursuit had been ordered. Wellesley had told him that none such existed (and this turned out to have been the fact), but he himself had not seen any clear proof of it at the time[285]. Dalrymple went even further, and stated that he had considered the whole conduct of the campaign, from the landing in Mondego Bay till the battle of Vimiero, terribly rash[286]. If he had permitted the army to march on Mafra on the twenty-second, the French from Torres Vedras might have taken him in the flank as he passed through a very difficult country, and the most disastrous results might have ensued. He was positive that nothing hazardous ought to have been attempted, and that it was necessary to wait for Sir John Moore’s division before pressing the French to extremity.

With regard to the armistice and the Convention, all the three generals, when defending themselves, agreed that they were wise and justifiable. To clear the French out of Portugal without further fighting, and to recover Lisbon and all its resources intact, were ends so important that it was well worth while to sacrifice even the practical certainty of capturing all Junot’s army, after a resistance that might have been long and desperate. But as to the wisdom of certain clauses and articles, both in the document of August 22 and that of August 30, there was considerable difference of opinion. Wellesley proved that he had opposed many details of each agreement, and that he was in no way responsible for the final shape taken by them. He only assented to the general proposition that it was right to let the French army depart under a convention, rather than to force it to a capitulation. He considered that Dalrymple had yielded far too much, from his unwillingness to ‘drive Junot into a corner.’

On December 22 the Court of Inquiry issued its report. It was a very cautious and a rather inconclusive document. But its main point was that nothing had been done in Portugal which called for the punishment of any of the parties concerned: ‘On a consideration of all the circumstances, we most humbly submit our opinion that no further military proceeding is necessary,’ i.e. there was no ground for a court-martial on any one of the three British generals. As to[p. 297] Burrard’s refusal to pursue the French on the afternoon of Vimiero, there were ‘fair military grounds’ for his decision: the court omitted to say whether the decision itself was right or wrong. ‘It could not pronounce with confidence whether or not a pursuit could have been efficacious.’ As to the halt on the following day, for which Dalrymple no less than Burrard was responsible, ‘under the extraordinary circumstances that two new commanding generals arrived from the ocean and joined the army within the space of twenty-four hours, it is not surprising that the army was not carried forward until the second day after the action, from the necessity of the generals becoming acquainted with the actual state of things, and of their army, and proceeding accordingly.’ Finally, as to the Convention, ‘howsoever some of us may differ in our sentiments respecting its fitness in the relative situation of the two armies, it is our unanimous declaration that unquestionable zeal and firmness appear to have been exhibited throughout both by Sir Hew Dalrymple, Sir Harry Burrard, and Sir Arthur Wellesley.’ There was a special compliment inserted for Wellesley’s benefit, to the effect that his whole action, from the landing in Mondego Bay down to the battle of Vimiero, was ‘highly honourable and successful, and such as might have been expected from a distinguished officer.’

Such a report amounted to a plain acquittal of all the three generals, but it left so much unsaid that the Government directed the Commander-in-Chief to require from the members of the court their decision as to whether the armistice of the twenty-second and the Convention of the thirtieth were advisable, and, if they were advisable, whether their terms were proper, and honourable. On the twenty-seventh the court returned its answer: there was, this time, no unanimous report, but a series of written opinions, for the members of the body differed from each other on many points. As to the armistice, six members replied that they approved of it, one, but he the most distinguished of the seven—Lord Moira—said that he did not. On the question as to the definitive Convention there was more difference of opinion: Dundas, Lord Heathfield, Craig, and Nugent thought it fair and reasonable; Lord Moira, the Earl of Pembroke, and Nicholls considered it as unjustifiable, considering the relative situations of the two armies. The two last-named officers added short explanatory notes to their opinions, while Lord Moira subjoined to his a long and elaborate argument,[p. 298] a document which does not seem in the least to deserve the slighting reference made to it by Napier[287]. It is very sensible in its general drift. Lord Moira contended that while on August 22 there was no reason why an armistice should not have been concluded, yet the paper drawn up by Kellermann contained clauses that limited unduly the demands which the British commander might make in the subsequent Convention. Dalrymple ought, before conceding them, to have reflected that Junot’s anxious and hurried offer of terms betokened demoralization. If the French had been pressed, and a confident and haughty answer returned to their envoy, Junot would have accepted any conditions that might be imposed upon him. His army was in such a state of disorder and dismay that it was most unlikely that he would have tried either to burn Lisbon or to retreat across the Alemtejo. Moreover, the contention that the deliverance of Portugal was the one object of the expedition, and that it was duly secured by the Convention, was a mistake. Lord Moira wished to point out that our armies were sent forth, not only to emancipate Portugal, but also to destroy the forces and lower the prestige of France by every means in their power. By forcing Junot to a capitulation, or by making the terms of the Convention more stringent, a much greater blow might have been dealt to Bonaparte’s reputation. As an instance of what might have been done, he suggested that some remote and inconvenient landing-place—Belle Isle for example—might have been imposed upon the French troops, or they might have been compelled to engage not to serve for some specified time against England and her allies.

The Court of Inquiry had thus delivered its last opinion. But the matter of the Convention was not even yet at an end. The ministry resolved to inflict a rebuke on Dalrymple, not for his military action, on which they completely accepted the verdict of the seven generals, but for his political action in allowing the Articles XV, XVI, and XVII to be inserted in the Convention. These, it will be remembered, were the clauses which conceded certain privileges to the French inhabitants of Lisbon, and to the Portuguese who had compromised themselves by taking service under Junot. The Duke of York, as commander-in-chief, was[p. 299] ordered to convey to Dalrymple ‘His Majesty’s disapprobation of those articles in the Convention in which stipulations were made affecting the interests and feelings of the Spanish and Portuguese nations[288].’ It was to be impressed upon Sir Hew that it was most improper and dangerous to admit into a military convention articles of such a description, which (especially when carelessly and incautiously framed) might lead to the most injurious consequences. Furthermore, Dalrymple was to be gravely censured for his extraordinary delay in not sending the news of the armistice of the twenty-second till September 3, whereby ‘great public inconvenience’ had been caused.

It cannot be denied that these rebukes were well deserved: we have already pointed out that the three articles to which allusion is made were the only part of the Convention for which no defence is possible. It is equally clear that it was the thirteen days’ gap in the information sent home which gave time for the rise and development of the unreasoning popular agitation against the whole agreement made with Junot.

As to the verdict of the court, it does substantial justice to the case. There existed ‘fair military reasons’ for all that Burrard and Dalrymple had done, or left undone. In a similar way ‘fair military reasons’ can be alleged for most of the main slips and errors committed during any campaign in the Napoleonic War—for Dupont’s stay at Andujar, or for Murray’s retreat from Tarragona, or for Grouchy’s operations on June 17 and 18, 1815. It would be unjust to punish old and respectable generals for mere errors of judgement, and inability to rise to the height of the situation. Burrard and Dalrymple had sacrificed the most brilliant possibilities by their torpid caution, after refusing to listen to Wellesley’s cogent arguments for bold action. But their conduct had resulted neither from cowardice nor from deliberate perversity. The blame must rest quite as much on the government, which had entrusted the expedition to elderly men unaccustomed to command in the field, as on those men themselves. And as to the details of the armistice and Convention, we may well accept Wellesley’s verdict, that the gain secured by the rescue of Lisbon with all its wealth intact, and by the prompt termination of the campaign, fully justified the resolve not to drive Junot to extremity.

But there was an unexpressed corollary to the verdict of the[p. 300] court which the ministry fully realized, and upon which they acted. Burrard and Dalrymple, with their ‘fair military reasons,’ must never again appear in the field. It was not by such men that Bonaparte would be foiled and Spain emancipated, and so they were relegated to home service and quiet retirement for the rest of their lives. Wellesley, on the other hand, was marked out as a man of energy, resource, and determination, eminently fit to be employed again. Within four months of the termination of the proceedings of the Court of Inquiry he was once more in command of the British army in the Peninsula.