But the arrangements as to the command of the expedition were the most ill-managed part of the business. The force at Cork was, as we have already explained, under the orders of Sir Arthur Wellesley, the younger brother of the great viceroy who had so much extended our Indian Empire between 1799 and 1805. He was the junior lieutenant-general in the British army, but had already to his credit a more brilliant series of victories than any other officer then living, including the all-important triumph of Assaye, which had so effectually broken the power of the Mahrattas. In 1808 he was a Member of Parliament and Under-Secretary for Ireland, but Castlereagh (who had the most unbounded belief in his abilities, and had long been using his advice on military questions) had picked him out to command the expedition mustering at Cork. When its destination was changed from America to Spain, the Secretary for War still hoped to keep him in command, but the Duke of York and the War Office were against Wellesley[181]. There were many respectable lieutenant-generals of enormous seniority and powerful connexions who were eager for foreign service. None of them had Wellesley’s experience of war on a large scale, or had ever moved 40,000 men on the field: but this counted for little at head quarters. The command in Portugal was made over to two of his seniors. The first was Sir Hew Dalrymple, a man of fifty-eight, whose only campaigning had been with the Duke of York in Flanders thirteen years back. He had been Governor of Gibraltar since 1806, knew something of Spanish politics, and was now in active communication with Castaños. The second in command was to be Sir Harry Burrard[182]: he was an old Guards officer who had served during the American rebellion, and had more recently commanded a division during the Copenhagen expedition without any special distinction. The third was Sir John Moore, and to being superseded by him Wellesley could not reasonably have objected. He was at this moment perhaps the most distinguished officer in the British service: he had done splendid work in the West Indies, Egypt, and the Netherlands. He had reorganized the light infantry tactics of the British army, and had won the enthusiastic admiration of all who had ever served under him for his zeal and intelligent activity. But Moore, like Wellesley, was to be placed under Dalrymple and Burrard, and not trusted with an independent command. At the present moment he was still far away in the Baltic, and was not expected to arrive for some time. Meanwhile Wellesley was allowed to sail in temporary charge of the expeditionary force, and still under the impression that he was to retain its guidance. His transports weighed anchor on July 12, and it was only on July 15 that the dispatch from Downing Street, informing him that he had been superseded by Dalrymple and Burrard, was drafted. It did not reach him till he had already landed in Portugal.
His political instructions had been forwarded as early as June 30. They were drawn up mainly on the data that the Asturian and Galician deputations had furnished to the ministry[183]. Both the Juntas had been unwise enough to believe that the national rising would suffice to expel the French—whose numbers they much underrated—from Spain. While empowering their envoys to ask for money, arms, and stores, they had ordered them to decline the offer of an auxiliary force. They requested that all available British troops might be directed on Portugal, in order to rouse an insurrection in that country (which was still quiet when they arrived in London), and to prevent the troops of Junot from being employed against the rear of the army of General Blake. In deference to their suggestions the British Government had sent enormous stores of muskets, powder, and equipment to Gihon and Ferrol, but directed Wellesley to confine his activity to Portugal. The Spaniards, with their usual inaccuracy, had estimated the total of Junot’s army at no more than 15,000 men. Misled by this absurd undervaluation, Castlereagh informed Wellesley that if he found that his own and Spencer’s forces sufficed for the reduction of Portugal, he might ‘operate against the Tagus’ at once. But if more men were required, an additional 10,000 bayonets would be provided from England, and the expeditionary force might meanwhile ask the leave of the Galician Junta to stop at Vigo—a halt which would have cost many weeks of valuable time. Wellesley himself was to choose a fast-sailing vessel and make for Corunna, where he was to confer with the Junta and pick up the latest information as to the state of affairs in the Peninsula.
In accordance with these instructions Sir Arthur preceded the bulk of his armament on the Crocodile, and reached Corunna in the short space of eight days [July 20]. He found the Galicians somewhat depressed by the disaster of Medina de Rio Seco, whose details they misrepresented in the most shameless fashion to their distinguished visitor. Bessières, they said, had lost 7,000 men and six guns, and although he had forced Blake and Cuesta to retreat on Benavente, those generals had still 40,000 troops under arms, and had no need of any auxiliary force. ‘The arrival of the British money yesterday has entirely renewed their spirits,’ wrote Wellesley, ‘and neither in them nor in the inhabitants of this town do I see any symptom of alarm, or doubt of their final success.’ This vainglorious confidence was supported by an infinity of false news: Lefebvre-Desnouettes was said to have been thrice defeated near Saragossa, and Dupont and his whole corps had been taken prisoners on June 22 in an action between Andujar and La Carolina—a curious prophecy, for it foresaw and placed a month too early the catastrophe of Baylen[184], which no reasonable man could have predicted. Almost the only correct information which was supplied to Wellesley was the news of the revolt of Oporto and the rest of Northern Portugal. It was clear that there was now an opening for the British army in that country, and as the Galicians continued to display their reluctance to receive any military aid, Sir Arthur went to sea again, joined his fleet of transports off Cape Finisterre, and bade them make for the mouth of the Douro. He himself put into Oporto, where he landed and interviewed the Bishop and the Supreme Junta. He found them in no very happy frame of mind: they had, as they confessed, only been able to arm 5,000 infantry and 300 cavalry, who lay under Bernardino Freire at Coimbra, and 1,500 men more for a garrison at Oporto. The rest of these levies consisted of 12,000 peasants with pikes, ‘and though the people were ready and desirous to take arms, unfortunately there were none in the country’—not even enough to equip the disbanded regulars. The Bishop expressed himself as much alarmed at the news of the disaster at Medina de Rio Seco, and his military advisers acknowledged that in consequence of that battle they had given up any hope of aid from Spain[185]. They asked eagerly for arms, of which the English fleet carried many thousand stand, and were anxious to see Wellesley’s troops landed. The place which they recommended for putting the army ashore was Mondego Bay, near Coimbra, where the mouth of the Mondego River furnishes an indifferent harbour, guarded by the fort of Figueira. That stronghold, it will be remembered, had been seized by the bold exploit of the student Zagalo; it was now garrisoned by 300 British marines, so that the disembarkation would be safe from disturbance by anything save the heavy Atlantic surf, which always beats against the western coast of Portugal. There was no other port available along the shore save Peniche, which was dangerously close to Lisbon, and guarded by a castle still in French hands. Nearer still to the capital, landing is just possible at Cascaes and a few other places: but there was no regular harbour, and Admiral Cotton agreed with Wellesley in thinking that it would be mad to attempt to throw troops ashore on a dangerous rock-bound coast in the midst of Junot’s cantonments. Mondego Bay was therefore appointed as the general place of rendezvous for the fleet, which had now begun to arrive opposite the mouth of the Douro.
As to the Portuguese troops, the Supreme Junta agreed that Bernardino Freire and his 5,000 men should go forward with the British army, while the new levies should blockade Almeida, and guard the frontier along the Douro against any possible advance on the part of Marshal Bessières from Castile. The Junta calculated that, if supplied with arms, they could put into the field from the three northern provinces of Portugal 38,000 foot and 8,000 horse—a liberal estimate, as they had, including their peasant levies, no more than 19,000 collected on July 25. They asked for weapons and clothing for the whole mass, and for a loan of 300,000 Cruzado Novas (about £35,000)—no very large sum considering the grants that were being made to the Spaniards at this time. Wellesley would only promise that he would arm the militia and peasantry who were lying along the Mondego in company with Freire’s regulars, ‘if he found them worth it[186].’ The Bishop undertook to forward from Oporto all the remounts for cavalry and all the draught-mules for commissariat purposes that he could get together. He thought that he could procure 150 of the former and 500 of the latter in six days.
On August 1, 1808, the disembarkation in Mondego Bay began, in the face of a heavy surf which rendered landing very dangerous, especially for the horses, guns, and stores. Many boats were upset and a few lives lost[187]; but the troops and their commander were in good spirits, for the news of the surrender of Dupont at Baylen on July 20 had reached them the day before the disembarkation began. Wellesley was convinced that General Spencer would have sailed from Andalusia to join him, the moment that this great victory made the presence of British troops in the south unnecessary. He was right, for Spencer, before receiving any orders to that effect, had embarked his men for Portugal and came into Mondego Bay on August 5, just as the last of the division from Cork had been placed on shore. It was therefore with some 13,000 men that Wellesley began his march on Lisbon[188]. But to his bitter disappointment the young lieutenant-general had just learnt that three commanders had been placed over his head, and that he might soon expect Dalrymple to arrive and assume charge of the army. Castlereagh’s dispatch of July 15, containing this unwelcome news, was delivered to Wellesley as he lay in Mondego Bay on the thirtieth, and he had to make all his arrangements for disembarkation while suffering under this unexpected slight. Many men would have resigned under such a blow, and Wellesley with his unbounded ambition, his strong sense of his deserts, and his well-marked tendency to take offence[189] must have been boiling over with suppressed indignation. But he felt that to ask to be recalled, because he had been degraded from a commander-in-chief to a mere general of division, would be an unsoldierly act. To Castlereagh he merely wrote that ‘whether he was to command the army or to quit it, he would do his best to ensure its success, and would not hurry operations one moment in order to acquire credit before the arrival of his superiors[190].’
Meanwhile there were yet a few days during which he would retain the command, and it was in his power to start the campaign on the right lines, even if he was not to reap the reward of its success. His first eight days on shore (August 2-9), were spent in the organization of the commissariat of his army, which the Home Government had disgracefully neglected. Except the two troops of the Irish Wagon Train, which he had insisted on bringing with him, he had no transport at his disposal, and, as he wrote to Castlereagh, ‘the existence of the army depends upon the commissariat, and yet the people who manage it are incapable of managing anything out of a counting-house[191].’ All that could be got out of the country he utilized: the Bishop of Oporto had sent him a few horses which enabled him to raise his force of mounted men from 180 to 240[192], and to give some animals to the artillery[5], to add to those that had come from Ireland[193]. But though he succeeded in equipping his own three batteries, the two which Spencer brought from Andalusia had to be left behind on the Mondego for want of draught-horses[194]: the dismounted men of the 20th Dragoons had also to be dropped. For the commissariat the Bishop of Oporto had sent some mules, which were raised to a total of 500 by purchases in the country-side, while 300 bullock-carts were procured for the heavier stores by requisition from the neighbouring villages. It was only on the ninth that things were so far ready that the army could move forward. It was now divided into six small brigades under Generals Hill, Ferguson, Nightingale, Bowes, Catlin Crawfurd, and Fane: the third, fourth, and fifth brigades had only two battalions each, the other four had three[195].
Wellesley had resolved to advance by the coast-road on Lisbon, via Alcobaça, Obidos, and Torres Vedras, and it was along the desolate shore ‘up to the knees in sand and suffering dreadfully from thirst[196],’ that his men made their first march of twelve miles to Lugar. The distance was moderate, but the troops had been so long cramped on shipboard that some of the regiments had fallen out of condition and left many stragglers.
The reasons which had determined Wellesley to take the coast route, rather than that which leads from the Mondego to Lisbon via Santarem, were, as he afterwards explained, partly a wish to keep in touch with the fleet for the purpose of obtaining supplies—for he found that the country could support him in wine and beef, but not in flour—and partly the fact that he had learnt that new reinforcements from England were likely to appear within a few days. The brigades from Harwich and Ramsgate, under Generals Acland and Anstruther, had sailed on July 19 and might be looked for at any moment. Sir John Moore, with the division from Sweden, was also reported to be on his way to the south, but could not be expected to arrive for some time. Having ascertained that the French force in Portugal was somewhat larger than he originally supposed, Sir Arthur wished to pick up the troops of Acland and Anstruther before giving battle. In this he was even wiser than he knew, for he still estimated Junot’s total disposable force at 18,000 men[197], while it was really 26,000. To have attacked Lisbon with no more than the 13,000 troops who had originally disembarked at the mouth of the Mondego would have been most hazardous.
Wellesley had at first intended to take on with him the whole of Bernardino Freire’s army. He had visited the Portuguese commander at Montemor Velho on the seventh, and had issued to his ally a supply of 5,000 muskets. Freire was anxious to persuade him to give up the coast route, and to throw himself into the interior on the side of Santarem. But the cogent reasons which compelled him to prefer the road which allowed him to keep in touch with the fleet, made him refuse to listen to this plan, and he invited the Portuguese general to transfer himself on to the same line. Freire so far submitted as to move to Leiria, where he met the British army on August 10. But here the two commanders came to hard words and parted. Freire, a self-willed and shifty man, was determined not to act in unison with Wellesley. Whether he wished to preserve his independent command, or whether he feared (as Napier hints) to oppose his raw levies to the French, even when supported by 13,000 British bayonets[198], he now showed himself utterly impracticable. He began by laying hands on all the stores of food in Leiria, though they had been promised to Wellesley. Then he made the absurd and impudent statement that he could only co-operate with his allies if Wellesley would undertake to provide rations for his 6,000 men. This proposal was all the more astounding because he had just been trying to persuade his colleague to move into the inland, by the statement that resources of every kind abounded in Estremadura, and that the whole British army could easily live upon the country-side! Wellesley’s men had now been subsisting for ten days on biscuit landed by the fleet, and it was ludicrous that he should be asked to take upon his shoulders the whole burden of feeding the Portuguese in their own country. Accordingly he utterly rejected the proposal, but he insisted that Freire should lend him some cavalry and light troops, and these he promised to maintain. The bulk of the Portuguese, therefore, remained behind at Leiria, their general being left free to take up, if he should choose, his favourite plan of marching on Santarem. But 260 horsemen—the skeletons of three old cavalry regiments—a battalion of Cazadores, and three weak line-regiments were placed at Wellesley’s disposition: they amounted to about 2,300 men[199], according to the Portuguese official figures, but the British commander repeatedly states that he saw no more than 260 horse and 1,600 infantry[200]; so it is probable that the regiments were somewhat under the estimate given by Freire. They were commanded by Colonel Trant, a British officer in the Portuguese service[201].
Turning once more into the road that skirts the coast, Wellesley marched on the thirteenth from Leiria, and reached Alcobaça on the fourteenth. Here he got his first news of the French: a brigade under Thomières had occupied the village till the previous day, and he learnt that General Delaborde, with a weak division, was somewhere in his front, in the direction of Obidos and Roliça.