There is nothing more praiseworthy in the British, or rather in the English character—for it is they who in this respect give tone to the general feelings of the other two British nations—than the noble candour with which, laying aside all petty and factious considerations, they have at all times united in the same spring-tide of sentiment, when the object in question was in itself heart-stirring and generous. At no time was this unison of sentiment more universally felt and expressed, than when the news became general through Britain that the Spanish nation, the victim of an unparalleled process of treachery, had resolved to break through the toils by which they were enclosed, and vindicate their national independence at the hazard of their lives. "The war," says the elegant historian,[423] to whose labours we are so much indebted in this part of our subject, "assumed a higher and holier character, and men looked to the issue with faith as well as hope." Both these were the brighter that they seemed to have arisen out of the midnight of scepticism, concerning the existence of public spirit in Spain.

It became the universal wish of Britain, to afford the Spaniards every possible assistance in their honourable struggle. Sheridan declared, that the period had arrived for striking a decisive blow for the liberation of Europe; and another distinguished member of Opposition,[424] having expressed himself with more reserve on the subject, found it necessary to explain, that in doing so he disclaimed the thoughts of abandoning the heroic Spaniards to their fate. But it was with particular interest, that all lovers of their country listened to the manly declaration of Mr. Canning,[425] in which, disclaiming the false and petty policy which made an especial object of what were called peculiarly British interests, he pledged himself, and the Administration to which he belonged, for pursuing such measures as might ensure Spanish success, because it was that which, considering the cause in which she was embarked, comprehended the essential interest not of England only, but of the world. The resolution to support Spain through the struggle, founded as it was on this broad and generous basis, met the universal approbation of the country.

It remained only to inquire in what shape the succours of Britain should be invested, in order to render them most advantageous to the cause of Spanish independence. Most Spaniards seemed to concur with the deputies, who had been hastily despatched to England by the Junta of the Asturias, in declining the assistance of an auxiliary army; "of men," they said, "Spain had more than enough." Arms, ammunition, and clothing, were sent, therefore, with a liberal and unsparing profusion, and military officers of skill and experience were despatched, to assist where their services could be useful to the insurgents. The war with Spain was declared at an end, and the Spanish prisoners, freed from confinement, clothed, and regaled at the expense of the English, were returned to their country in a sort of triumph.[426]

The conduct of the Spaniards in declining the aid of British troops, partly perhaps arose out of that overweening confidence which has been elsewhere noted as their great national foible, and might be partly justified by the difficulty of combining the operations of a body of native insurgents with regular forces, consisting of foreigners, professing a different religion, and speaking another language. These objections, however, did not apply with the same force to Portugal, where the subjected state of the country did not permit their national pride, though not inferior to that of the Spaniards, to assume so high a tone; and where, from long alliance, the English, in despite of their being foreigners and heretics, were ever regarded with favour. It was, therefore, resolved to send an expedition, consisting of a considerable body of troops, to assist in the emancipation of Portugal, an operation for which the progress of the Spanish insurrection rendered the time favourable.

We left Portugal under the provisional command of General Junot, described by Napoleon himself as one whose vanity was only equalled by his rapacity, and who conducted himself like a tyrant over the unresisting natives, from whom he levied the most intolerable exactions.

There is no access to know in what manner Napoleon intended to dispose of this ancient kingdom. The partition treaty executed at Fontainbleau, which had been made the pretext of occupying Portugal, had never been in reality designed to regulate its destinies, and was neglected on all sides, as much as if it never had existed. Buonaparte subsequently seems to have entertained some ideas of new-modelling the kingdom, which caused him to summon together at Bayonne a Diet, or Assembly of Portuguese Notables, in order to give an ostensible authority to the change which he was about to introduce.

They met him there, according to the summons; and, although their proceedings had no material consequences, yet, as narrated by the AbbÉ de Pradt, who was present on the occasion, they form too curious an illustration of Buonaparte's mind and manner to be omitted in this place. Having heard with indifference an address pronounced by the Count de Lima, an ancient Portuguese noble, who was President of the deputation, Napoleon opened the business in this light and desultory way:—"I hardly know what to make of you, gentlemen—it must depend on the events in Spain. And then, are you of consequence sufficient to constitute a separate people?—have you enough of size to do so? Your Prince has let himself be carried off to the Brazils by the English—he has committed a great piece of folly, and he will not be long in repenting of it. A prince," he added, turning gaily to the AbbÉ de Pradt, "is like a bishop—he ought to reside within his charge."—Then again speaking to the Count de Lima, he asked what was the population of Portugal, answering, at the game time, his own question, "Two millions, is it?"—"More than three, Sire," replied the Count.—"Ah—I did not know that—And Lisbon—are there one hundred and fifty thousand inhabitants?"—"More than double that number, Sire."—"Ah—I was not aware of that."

Proceeding through several questions regarding matters in which his information did not seem more accurate, he at length approached the prime subject of the conference. "What do you wish to be, you Portuguese?" he said. "Do you desire to become Spaniards?" This question, even from Napoleon, roused the whole pride of the Portuguese; for it is well known with what ill-will and jealousy they regard the sister-country of the Peninsula, against whom they have so long preserved their independence. The Count de Lima drew up his person to its full height, laid his hand on his sword, and answered the insulting demand by a loud No, which resounded through the whole apartment. Buonaparte was not offended, but rather amused by this trait of national character. He broke up the meeting without entering farther on the business for which it was summoned together, and afterwards told those about his person, that the Count of Lima had treated him with a superb No. He even showed some personal favour to that high-spirited nobleman, but proceeded no farther in his correspondence with the Portuguese deputies. The whole scene is curious, as serving to show how familiar the transference of allegiance, and alienation of sovereignty, was become to his mind, since in the case of a kingdom like Portugal, of some importance were even its ancient renown alone regarded, he could advance to the consideration of its future state with such imperfect knowledge of its circumstances, and so much levity both of manner and of purpose. Kingdoms had become the cards, which he shuffled and dealt at his pleasure, with all the indifference of a practised gamester. The occasion he had for the services of the Portuguese assembly of Notables passed away, and the deputies of whom it had consisted were sent to Bourdeaux, where they resided in neglect and poverty until the general peace permitted them to return to Portugal.

Some hints in Buonaparte's letter to Murat, formerly quoted, might induce one to believe that the crown of the house of Braganza was meant to be transferred to his brows;[427] but he obtained that of Naples, and the fate of Portugal continued undetermined, when the consequences of the Spanish Revolution seemed about to put it beyond the influence of Napoleon.

A movement so general as the Revolution effected in Spain through all her provinces, could not fail to have a sympathetic effect on the sister kingdom of Portugal, on whom the French yoke pressed so much more severely; not merely wounding the pride, and destroying the independence of the country, but leading to the plunder of its resources, and the maltreatment of the inhabitants. The spirit which animated the Spaniards soon showed itself among the Portuguese. Oporto, the second city in the kingdom, after a first attempt at insurrection, which the French, by aid of the timid local authorities, found themselves able to suppress, made a second effort with better success, expelled the French from the city and the adjacent country, and placed themselves under the command of a provisional junta, at the head of whom was the Bishop of Oporto. The kindling fire flew right and left in every direction; and at length, wherever the French did not possess a strong and predominating armed force, the country was in insurrection against them. This did not pass without much bloodshed. The French, under command of Loison, marched from the frontier fortress of Almeida, to suppress the insurrection at Oporto; but General Silviera, a Portuguese nobleman, who had put himself at the head of the armed population, managed so to harass the enemy's march, that he was compelled to abandon his intention, and return to Almeida, though his force amounted to four thousand men. At Beja, Leiria, Evora,[428] and other places, the discipline of the French overcame the opposition of the citizens and peasantry; and, in order to strike terror, the bloody hand of military execution was extended against the unfortunate towns and districts. But the inhumanity of the victors only served to increase the numbers and ferocity of their enemies. Men who had seen their houses burned, their vineyards torn up, their females violated, had no further use of life save for revenge; and when either numbers, position, or other advantages, gave the Portuguese an opportunity, it was exercised with premeditated and relentless cruelty.[429]

Had Junot been able to employ his full force against the insurgents, it is likely that in so narrow a country this miserable war might have been ended by the despotic efforts of irresistible military force. But the French general had apprehensions from another quarter, which obliged him to concentrate a considerable part of his army, that might otherwise have been disposable for the total subjugation of Portugal. Britain, long excluded from the continent, had assumed, with regard to it, the attitude of the Grecian hero, who, with his lance pointed towards his enemy, surveys his armour of proof from head to foot, in hopes of discovering some rent or flaw, through which to deal a wound. Junot justly argued, that the condition of the peninsula, more especially of Portugal, was such as to invite a descent on the part of the English. In fact, an expedition of ten thousand men had already sailed from Cork, and, what was of more importance than if the force had been trebled, it was placed under the command of Sir Arthur Wellesley, a younger son of the Earl of Mornington, one of those gifted individuals upon whom the fate of the world seems to turn like a gate upon its hinges, or as a vessel is managed by its rudder.

In India, Sir Arthur Wellesley had seen and conducted war upon a large and extended scale, of which no general officer in the European army of England had much comprehension, at least much experience. He was well acquainted with the best mode of supplying armies while in the field. His thoughts had been familiarly exercised in the task of combining grand general movements over extended regions, and his natural genius, deducing the principles of war from the service which he had seen in the East, qualified him to apply them to other countries, and to an enemy of a different description. Formidable in his preparations for battle, and successful in the action itself, he was even more distinguished by the alertness and sagacity which never rested satisfied with a useless victory, but improved to the uttermost the advantages which he had attained, by his own masterly dispositions, and the valour of his troops. His mind was never entirely engrossed by the passing event, how absorbing soever its importance; the past and the future were alike before him; and the deductions derived from a consideration of the whole, were combined, in all their bearings, with a truth and simplicity, which seemed the work of intuition, rather than the exercise of judgment. In fact, the mind of this singular and distinguished man seemed inaccessible to those false and delusive views which mislead ordinary thinkers; his strength of judgment rejected them, as some soils will not produce noxious weeds; and it might be said of him, that on subjects to which he gave his attention, the opinions which he formed, approached, perhaps, as near the perfection of human reason as the fallibility of our nature will permit.

To this prescience of intellect, in itself so rare a quality, was added a decision, which, when his resolution was once formed, enabled Sir Arthur Wellesley to look to the event with a firmness, inaccessible to all the doubts and vacillations to which minds of the highest resolution have been found accessible in arduous circumstances, but which are sure to impair the energy, and exhaust the spirits of others. A frame fitted to endure every species of fatigue and privation, and capable of supplying the want of regular repose by hasty and brief slumbers, snatched as occasion permitted, together with a power of vision uncommonly acute, may be mentioned as tending to complete the qualities of Sir Arthur Wellesley for the extraordinary part to which Providence had destined him. It may be added, that in precision of thought, sagacity of judgment, promptness of decision, and firmness of resolution, there was a considerable resemblance betwixt Napoleon and the English General, destined to be his great rival; and that the characters of both serve to show that the greatest actions are performed, and the greatest objects attained, not by men who are gifted with any rare and singular peculiarities of talent, but by those in whom the properties of judgment, firmness, power of calculation, and rapidity in execution, which ordinary men possess in an ordinary degree, are carried to the highest and most uncommon degree of perfection.

Sir Arthur Wellesley's qualities were well known in India, where, in the brilliant campaign of Assaye, he defeated the whole force of the Mahrattas, and ended triumphantly a long and doubtful war. The following expressions, on his leaving India, occur in the familiar letter of an excellent judge of human character, and who, it is to be hoped, lives to take a natural and just pride in the event of his own prophecy:—"You seem," he wrote to his European correspondent, "to be at a loss for generals in England. There is one now returning from India, who, if you can overcome the objections of precedence and length of service, and place him at once at the head of the British army, is capable of saving England at least, if not Europe, from the dangers which seem thickening around you."—Most fortunately for England, and for Europe, the objections which might have obstructed the rise of another officer in like circumstances, did not operate against Sir Arthur Wellesley in the same degree. His brother, the Marquis Wellesley, distinguished by the talents which had governed and extended our empire in India, had already much interest in our domestic councils, in which, some months afterwards, he held an eminent place.

He was selected at this important crisis to go as ambassador plenipotentiary to Spain, as one on whose wisdom and experience the utmost reliance could be reposed. The Marquis was of course well acquainted with Sir Arthur's talents; and, conscious that in urging his brother's pretensions to high employment in his profession, he was preparing for the arms of Great Britain every chance of the most distinguished success, he requested his assistance as the hand to execute the counsels, which were, in a great measure, to emanate from himself as the head.

The army and the public had become acquainted with Sir Arthur's merits during the brief campaign of Copenhagen—his name already inspired hope and confidence into the country—and when the brother of the Marquis Wellesley received the command of the expedition destined for the peninsula, none hinted that the selection had been made from undue partiality; and subsequent events soon taught the nation, not only that the confidence, so far as reposed in Sir Arthur Wellesley, was perfectly just, but that it ought, in wisdom, to have been much more absolute.

Under these auspices the expedition set sail for the peninsula, and, touching at Corunna, received such news as determined Sir Arthur Wellesley to select Portugal as the scene of his operations, being the point upon which success seemed most likely to influence the general cause. He opened a communication with Oporto, and soon learned the important news of the defeat of Dupont, and the flight of the intrusive King from Madrid. These tidings were of particular importance, because the consequences were likely to find full occupation in Spain for the victorious army of BessiÈres, which, if left disengaged, might have entered Portugal, and co-operated with Junot. At the same time, a body of British troops, which had been destined to support Castanos, was left disposable by the surrender of Baylen, and, having embarked for Portugal, now joined Sir Arthur Wellesley. Lastly, came the important intelligence, that Sir Arthur's army was to be reinforced immediately with fifteen thousand men, and that Sir Hew Dalrymple was to command in chief. This officer was governor of Gibraltar, and, during the Spanish insurrection, had acted both with wisdom and energy in assisting, advising, and encouraging the patriots; but it is doing him no injury to say, that he does not appear to have had the uncommon combination of talents, both military and political, which, in the present crisis, the situation of commander-in-chief in Portugal peremptorily demanded.

Assured of these succours, Sir Arthur Wellesley disembarked his army in Mondego bay, and advanced towards Leiria by the sea-coast for the sake of communicating with the fleet, from which they received their provisions. The French generals Laborde and Thomieres were detached from Lisbon to check the progress of the invaders, and Loison, moving from the Alantejo, was in readiness to form a junction with his countrymen. In the meantime, a tumultuary Portuguese army of insurgents commanded by General Freire, an unreasonable and capricious man, (who afterwards lost his life under strong suspicions of treachery to the patriot cause,) first incommoded the British general by extravagant pretensions, and finally altogether declined to co-operate with him. A general of an ordinary character might not unreasonably have been so far disgusted with the conduct of those whom he had come to assist, as to feel diminished zeal in a cause which seemed to be indifferent to its natural defenders. But Sir Arthur Wellesley, distinguished as much by his knowledge of mankind as his military talents, knew how to make allowance for the caprice of an individual called suddenly to a command, for which perhaps his former life had not fitted him, and for the ebb and flow of national spirit in the ranks of an insurgent population. He knew that victory over the French was necessary to obtain the confidence of the Portuguese; and, with an alertness and activity which had prevented the junction of Loison with Laborde, he pushed on to attack (17th August) the latter French general, where he waited the approach of his colleague in a strong position near the town of RoriÇa. Attacking at once in front and upon the flank, he drove them from their ground, and his victory formed the first permanent and available success obtained by the British army in the eventful Peninsular struggle. Laborde retreated upon Torres Vedras, on which Loison had also directed his course.[430]

The Portuguese insurrection became wide and general on flank and rear, and Junot saw little chance of extinguishing the conflagration, unless he should be able to defeat the English general in a pitched battle. For this purpose he withdrew all the French garrisons except from Lisbon itself, Elvas, Almeida, and Peniche; and, collecting his whole forces, at Vimeiro, near Torres Vedras, determined there to abide the shock of war.

In the meanwhile, Sir Arthur Wellesley had been joined by a part of the promised succours; who, disembarking with difficulty on the dangerous coast, formed a junction with the main body as they marched towards the enemy. It was not an equally fortunate circumstance, that Sir Harry Burrard Neale, an officer of superior rank, also appeared on the coast, and communicated with Sir Arthur Wellesley. The latter explained his plan of engaging the French army, and throwing it back on Lisbon, where an insurrection would instantly have taken place in their rear, and thus Portugal might have been delivered by a single blow. But Sir Harry Burrard, though a brave officer, does not appear to have had that confidence in the British soldiery, which they so well deserve at the hands of their leaders. He recommended a defensive system until the arrival of the rest of the succours from England; neither seeing how much, in war, depends upon a sudden and powerful effort, nor considering that the French of all men can best employ to their own advantage, whatever leisure may be allowed them by the timidity or indecision of their enemy.

At this time, however, the difficulties of Junot's situation had determined him on the hazard of a general action; and the armies being already very near each other, the only change occasioned in the course of events by the interposition of the lately arrived British general, was, that Sir Arthur Wellesley, instead of being the assailant, as he had proposed, was, on the memorable 21st August, himself attacked by Junot near the town of Vimeiro. The British amounted to about 16,000 men, but of these not above one half were engaged; the French consisted of about 14,000, all of whom were brought into action.[431] The French attacked in two divisions; that on the left, commanded by Laborde, about five thousand men, and that on the right, under Loison, considerably stronger. The centre, or reserve, was commanded by Kellerman, occupied the space between the attacking divisions, and served to connect them with each other. The battle was interesting to military men, as forming a remarkable example of that peculiar mode of tactics by which the French troops had so often broken through and disconcerted the finest troops of the continent, and also of the manner in which their impetuous valour might be foiled and rendered unavailing, by a steady, active, and resolute enemy.

The favourite mode of attack by the French was, we have often noticed, by formation into massive columns, the centre and rear of which give the head no opportunity to pause, but thrust the leading files headlong forward on the thin line of enemies opposed to them, which are necessarily broken through, as unequal to sustain the weight of the charging body. In this manner, and in full confidence of success, General Laborde in person, heading a column of better than two thousand men, rushed on the British advanced guard, consisting of the 50th regiment, with some field-pieces, and a single company of sharp-shooters. The regiment, about four hundred men in number, drawn up in line on the brow of a hill, presented an obstacle so little formidable to the heavy column which came against them, that it seemed the very noise of their approach should have driven them from the ground. But Colonel Walker suddenly altering the formation of his regiment, so as to place its line obliquely on the flank of the advancing column, instead of remaining parallel to it, opened a terrible, well-sustained, and irresistible fire, where every ball passing through the dense array of the enemy, made more than one victim, and where the close discharge of grape-shot was still more fatal. This heavy and destructive fire was immediately seconded by a charge with the bayonet, by which the column, unable to form or to deploy, received on their defenceless flank, and among their shattered ranks, the attack of the handful of men whom they had expected at once to sweep from their course. The effect was instantaneous and irresistible; and the French, who had hitherto behaved with the utmost steadiness, broke their ranks and ran, leaving near three-fourths of their number in killed, wounded, and prisoners.[432] The same sort of close combat was general over the field. The brigade of General Fergusson, on the right, was attacked by General Loison with an impetuosity and vigour not inferior to that of Laborde. A mutual charge of bayonets took place; and here, as at Maida, the French advanced, indeed, bravely to the shock, but lost heart at the moment of the fatal encounter. To what else can we ascribe the undeniable fact, that their whole front rank, amounting to three hundred grenadiers, lay stretched on the ground almost in a single instant?[433]

The French were now in full retreat on all sides. They had abandoned their artillery—they were flying in confusion—the battle was won—the victor had only to stretch forth his hand to grasp the full fruits of conquest. Sir Arthur Wellesley had determined to move one part of his army on Torres Vedras, so as to get between the French and the nearest road to Lisbon, while with another division he followed the chase of the beaten army, to whom thus no retreat on Lisbon would remain, but by a circuitous route through a country in a state of insurrection. Unhappily, Sir Arthur Wellesley's period of command was for the present ended. Sir Harry Burrard had landed during the action, and had with due liberality declined taking any command until the battle seemed to be over; when it unhappily occurred to him, in opposition to the remonstrances of Sir Arthur Wellesley, General Fergusson, and other general officers, to interpose his authority for the purpose of prohibiting farther pursuit.[434] He accounted such a measure incautious where the enemy was superior in cavalry, and perhaps entertained too sensitive a feeling of the superiority of French tactics. Thus Vimeiro, in its direct consequences, seemed to be only another example of a victory gained by the English without any corresponding results; one of those numerous instances, in which the soldiers gain the battle from confidence in their own hearts and arms, and the general fails to improve it, perhaps from an equally just diffidence of his own skill and talents.

Meanwhile, Sir Hew Dalrymple, arriving from Gibraltar in a frigate, superseded Sir Harry Burrard, as Sir Harry had superseded Sir Arthur; and thus, within twenty-four hours, the English army had successively three commanders-in-chief.[435] The time of prosecuting the victory was passed away before Sir Hew Dalrymple came ashore—for the French had been able to gain the position of Torres Vedras, from which it had been Sir Arthur Wellesley's chief object to exclude them. That general then knew well, as he afterwards showed to the world, what advantage might be taken of that position for the defence of Lisbon.

But Junot had suffered too severely in the battle of Vimeiro, and had too many difficulties to contend with, to admit of his meditating an obstinate defence. The victorious British army was in his front—the insurgents, encouraged by the event of the battle, were on his flanks—the English fleet might operate in his rear—and the populous town of Lisbon itself was not to be kept down without a great military force. Then if the successes in Andalusia were to be followed by similar events, the Spanish armies might invade Portugal, and co-operate with the English. Moved by these circumstances, the French general was induced to propose that evacuation of Portugal, its cities, and fortresses, which was afterwards concluded by the treaty of Cintra.[436] The French, by the articles of that convention, were to be transported to their own country, with their arms, artillery, and property—under which last article they carried off much of the plunder of which they had stripped the Portuguese. A Russian fleet in the Tagus; commanded by Admiral Siniavin, was delivered up to the English, in deposit, as it was termed; so unwilling were we to use towards Russia the language or practice of war, although the countries were in a state of avowed hostilities. In a military point of view, all the British generals concurred in approving of the convention. Sir Arthur Wellesley, who saw better, it may be supposed, than the others, how long the war might be protracted, after the favourable moment of victory had been permitted to pass without being improved, considered the liberation of Portugal, with its sea-coast, its ports, and its fortresses, besides the eastern line of frontier, which offered an easy communication with Spain, as an advantage of the highest importance, and cheaply purchased by the articles granted to Junot.

But the light in which the people of England saw the Convention of Cintra,[437] was extremely different. It is their nature to nurse extravagant hopes, and they are proportionally incensed when such are disappointed. The public were never more generally united in the reprobation of any measure; and although much of their resentment was founded in ignorance and prejudice, yet there were circumstances in the transaction which justified in some measure the general indignation. The succession of the three generals was compared to the playing of trump-cards at a game of whist; and, whether it was designed or fortuitous, had an air of indecision that was almost ludicrous. Then it was obvious, that the younger and inferior officer of the three had been prevented from following up the victory he had gained, and that this interference had rendered necessary the convention which England seemed determined to consider as injurious to Portugal, and dishonourable to herself. A Court of Inquiry[438] put the proceedings in a more just point of view for the two superior officers, whose error appeared in no degree to have exceeded a mistake in judgment, the fruit of too much caution. But the fierce and loudly expressed resentment on the part of the public[439] produced very important consequences; and though there occurred exceptions, it became comparatively difficult or dangerous, from that period, to propose any one as commander of an expedition whose talents had not pretensions to merit the confidence of the people.