SIEGE OF BADAJOZ, AND AFFAIR OF EL BODON.
Badajoz besieged.—Castle breached and unsuccessfully assaulted.—A second attempt fails.—Siege raised.—French advance.—Badajoz relieved.—Montbrun attacks the allies.—Affair of El Bodon.—Wellington’s dangerous situation.—He retreats on the Coa—Offers battle there, which Soult and Marmont decline.—French retire.
It certainly was a bold design, and one that many considered as little removed from rashness, for Lord Wellington to attempt Badajoz a second time, limited as he was in every necessary for a siege, and by no means secure from molestation. He had obtained, by the victories of Fuentes d’Onoro and Albuera, a temporary superiority of force on the Guadiana; but it was not likely that Soult and Marmont would let a fortress to which they attached so much importance fall, without making a vigorous effort for its relief—nor could a rapid reduction of Badajoz be accomplished. The siege trains were wretchedly defective; and the guns, originally bad, had been ruined or disabled during Beresford’s recent attempt; and the engineers reported, that eleven days would be required before they could be remounted and placed in battery; while in twenty, a force quite sufficient to disturb all operations, could easily reach the Alemtejo from Salamanca, by the passes of Banos or Gata, while the Tagus was fordable at Alcantara.
Operations commenced on the night of the 30th of May, in front of the castle, by sixteen hundred workmen, covered by a protecting party of twelve hundred. The first parallel, extending one thousand yards, was completed, and no interruption given by the besieged. A lesser party commenced a parallel before San Christoval; but the rocky soil could not be broken without causing alarm, and a severe fire was directed on the workmen, which occasioned a considerable loss.
The approaches were ably pushed on, but great difficulties had to be overcome by the besiegers. Before San Christoval, the stony surface required a supply of earth and woolpacks, to form an artificial covering for the engineers and fatigue parties; while the workmen were exposed to the fire of several sixteen and eighteen inch mortars, which threw their enormous shells with a precision that threatened ruin to every thing within their range.
When the batteries opened on the morning of the 3rd of June, the imperfect supply of bullets was soon exhausted, and the artillery were obliged to use the shot intended for guns of an inferior calibre—consequently, the windage was so great, that the service was very indifferent; and several guns, from the defective quality of their metal, became unserviceable after a few discharges.
A siege, where the means of aggression were so imperfect, could only have been carried on by the unremitted exertions of every arm engaged—and with various casualties, that of Badajoz continued until the 6th, when two breaches in San Christoval were reported practicable; and it was decided by Lord Wellington that they should be stormed without loss of time.
All was accordingly prepared; the storming party gained the ditch, but the foot of the breach had been cleared, and a sheer ascent of full seven feet of wall unexpectedly presented itself. Without sufficient means for escalade, success was hopeless—and the more prudent plan would have been to retire instantly, when the actual state of the breach was ascertained. But British blood was roused; the assailants were bravely led,[147] and for nearly an hour, in an unavailing effort to surmount an impracticable barrier, the forlorn hope and storming party persevered, until three-fourths of their number were destroyed. Nothing had been omitted by the enemy both for defence and annoyance. The rubbish had been cleared away, and the parapet lined with shells, grenades, stones, and powder-bags, which were rolled into the ditch, and by their repeated explosions, destroyed all within their reach. After desperate but unavailing exertions, the few that remained were withdrawn,—and with some iron guns which had been obtained, the engineers immediately resumed breaching the castle walls.
The fire speedily brought down the ancient masonry, and a bank of clay against which the wall had been erected. An engineer officer examined the breach, and reported that it was practicable—although he received his death-wound in the attempt, and had only strength left to announce that he had done the duty on which he had been employed. But the besieged were indefatigable in repairing by night, the damages their works received from the English batteries, and the breach was provided with every means for desperate defence. A more vigorous assault was arranged, and a better hour was selected; the troops were equally ardent and as boldly led—but the result was similar; and the second assault failed with as great a loss of life, and as little chance of succeeding, as that which marked the former storm.
It was now quite apparent that additional siege artillery must be procured to insure the fall of Badajoz; while information was received by Lord Wellington, that Soult and Marmont were making rapid movements to relieve the fortress. To persevere longer would have been madness;—the siege was therefore, necessarily raised, and the guns and stores removed without any molestation. A blockade was established; and while the Spaniards were sent across the Guadiana, to operate against the French posts, Lord Wellington took a position in front of Albuera. On the 19th, the allies retired on the Caya, and Soult’s advanced guard entered Badajoz.
The united force of the French marshals was greatly superior, particularly in cavalry, to that of Wellington;[148] but the Caya afforded a strong position, and the British general determined to abide a battle.
A reconnaissance by Soult and Marmont, on the 22nd of June, induced a belief that an action would result. Wellington, with admirable tact, kept his masses out of sight, and the marshals failed in discovering his dispositions. The British bivouacs were in the woods contiguous to the river:—head-quarters at Vicente, Hill’s corps at Torre de More on the right, and Picton’s division, on the left, at Campo Mayor.
On the same morning that the French marshals had examined the allied position, a strong cavalry force was detached from the enemy’s posts, to cross the Guadiana and move towards Elvas. Nothing would have particularly marked this demonstration, had not an English picket of sixty men, with three officers, been cut off and made prisoners, by mistaking the French for Portuguese dragoons. The absurd fancy indulged in at home, of imitating foreign patterns in clothing the cavalry, led to numerous mistakes; while it greatly embarrassed officers, in ascertaining correctly whether troops, when at a trifling distance, were in reality friends or foes.
For a month the French marshals remained together; their numerous cavalry scouring the face of the country to an immense extent, and wasting it of every thing that was convertible into sustenance for either men or horses. At last, these precarious supplies, obtained from an impoverished country, failed altogether; and Soult and Marmont retired from Estramadura,—the latter, marching northwards, and the former falling back upon Seville.
On this movement being made, Wellington instantly changed his quarters, first to Portalegre, and afterwards to Fuente Guinaldo. The occupation of the posts and villages contiguous to Ciudad Rodrigo, must, of necessity, cut off from that garrison every chance of a casual supply; while the distance of the French cantonments (sixty miles) would make it impossible for either of the marshals to introduce a convoy, unless it were accompanied and protected by an entire corps d’armée. Wellington had calculated on these difficulties; his plans were soundly conceived; and they were carried out with that steady resolution, which has always characterized the greatest general that Britain ever claimed.
As had been anticipated, Ciudad Rodrigo became exceedingly straitened; and the French marshals, at great inconvenience, were obliged to concentrate at Salamanca, to cover the introduction of supplies, which at every cost, must be thrown into the fortress. Rumour, of course, was busy; one report making them fifty thousand, and another swelling their numbers to eighty. The allied general, however, determined to retain his cantonments; and the position of Guinaldo was strengthened by field-works; while the different divisions were posted so as to admit of speedy concentration. On the right bank of the Agueda, the light division guarded the Sierra de Gata,—while Picton held the more advanced position of El Bodon.
The position was too extensive to be strong—and its communications were liable to interruption, as the fords of the Agueda were frequently rendered impassable by sudden rains. The heights of El Bodon and Pastores were on either side encircled by plains, partially wooded, and reaching from Rodrigo to the Coa. Hence, the position was unsafe; for, if its flanks were turned, the retirement of a corps that held it on Guinaldo, would have become a very doubtful matter.
On the 23rd, the French moved forward from Tamames, and reconnoitred the British position; and on the next day they pushed a convoy into Badajoz, protected by four divisions of infantry and six thousand cavalry. On the 25th, the English pickets were driven across the Azava—while crossing the Agueda in great force, Montbrun moved directly on Guinaldo, and turned the heights on which Picton’s division had been posted. Considerably detached, as from the extent of the position the British regiments necessarily were, their situation became all but desperate. Picton, with the right brigade, was at El Bodon; two regiments at Pastores; while the 5th and 77th British, the 21st Portuguese, two brigades of guns, and three squadrons of German and English cavalry, occupied the height over which the Guinaldo road passes.
Lord Wellington ordered up assistance, on perceiving how dangerously the third division was circumstanced; but before any reached the scene of action, its own and often-tried resource had saved it,—the daring gallantry, that neither an isolated situation nor an overwhelming enemy could disturb.
The advance of the French cavalry was beautiful; the sun shone brilliantly out, and as their numerous squadrons, in long array, approached the heights occupied by the British infantry, nothing could be more imposing than their military attitude.[149] The cool and steady determination with which Colville’s brigade waited the enemy’s attack was truly British. While the French masses were defiling along the road, the English infantry remained in columns of battalions behind the ridge, and the cavalry stood dismounted—each dragoon with the bridle on his arm, and apparently as careless to coming events, as if he were on the parade-ground of his barrack, waiting for the trumpet call to “fall in.” But when the advanced squadrons were about to mount the ridge, the infantry formed line; the dragoons sprang to their saddles; and the artillery, which had occasionally cannonaded the hostile squadrons as they came within their range, opened with additional spirit, and poured from the height a torrent of grape and case shot that occasioned a serious loss to the enemy.
The French appeared to feel sensibly the effect produced by the fire, and a brigade cheered and charged up the heights. The men stood by their guns to the last, but eventually they were obliged to retire—and the French dragoons gained the battery, and the cannon were taken.
Their possession by the enemy was but for a moment. The 5th regiment came steadily forward in line, and after delivering a shattering volley, lowered their bayonets, and boldly advanced to charge the cavalry. This—the first instance of horsemen being assailed by infantry in line—was brilliantly successful. The French were hurried down the height—and the guns recaptured, were limbered up, and brought away.
Nor on the other side of the position were the British and German cavalry less gloriously engaged. Again and again, the French dragoons charged up the hill—and as regularly were they met sword to sword, repulsed and beaten back.
But the hill could not be held with such inferior numbers as the British. A column of great strength got unperceived in the rear of the right—not a moment could be lost—and an instant retreat was unavoidable. Indeed, the escape of these devoted regiments seemed hopeless. Montbrun brought forward overwhelming numbers against the left flank—and the French dragoons had cut the right off from its communication with El Bodon. The 83rd united itself with the 5th and 77th, and the Portuguese 21st had already commenced retreating, and gained the plain. The cavalry, finding itself almost surrounded, galloped off at speed—and the British regiments were left alone, to save themselves or perish.
They reached the plain,—Montbrun’s numerous squadrons came on with loud huzzas, and in such force, that the annihilation of these weak battalions seemed inevitable. But the French had yet to learn of what stern stuff the British soldier is composed. In a moment, the 5th and 77th formed square, and in steady silence awaited the coming onset. The charge was made—the cheering of the dragoons pealed over the battle-field as they came on at speed, and with a fiery determination that nothing could withstand. Against every face of the square a hostile squadron galloped; the earth shook—the cheers rose louder—another moment of that headlong speed must bring the dragoons upon the bayonets of the kneeling front rank. Then, from the British square a shattering volley was poured in,—the smoke cleared away,—and, but a few yards from the faces of the square, men and horses were rolling on the plain in death. The charge was repulsed—the ranks disordered—and the French dragoons, recoiling from that fearless array which they had vainly striven to penetrate, rode hastily off to reform their broken ranks, and remove themselves from an incessant stream of musketry that had already proved so fatal.
In the mean time, Picton had disengaged the regiments of the right brigade from the enclosures of El Bodon, and joined the 5th and 77th—and the whole retreated across the plain in beautiful order, presenting so bold an attitude, whenever the French made any demonstrations of charging, that they never attempted to close on the squares again. Still, Montbrun hung upon the rear and flanks of the allies, maintaining a trifling cannonade—while his guns were warmly replied to by the English artillery. On getting near Guinaldo, a support of both infantry and cavalry came forward—and the French abandoned the pursuit, after being roughly handled by the fire of the British musketry, and the bold charges of the few squadrons on the field, whose conduct all through that trying day had been most gallant.
The British position was infinitely too extensive for divisions weak as those of Cole and Picton to hold with safety. Lord Wellington had therefore decided on retiring to the Coa, and halt there upon his selected battle-ground; but unfortunately the light division had taken a mountain route instead of fording the Agueda; and General Craufurd, ignorant that Gata and Perales were in possession of the French, was marching directly on the enemy. This mistake might have not only occasioned the loss of the light division, but seriously endangered Cole and Picton at Guinaldo. Nor was the alarm lessened on the morning of the 26th, when Marmont got under arms, and exhibited sixty thousand splendid troops,[150] within little more than cannon-shot of the two isolated divisions who held the heights above. Fortunately, the French marshal had little suspicion of his rival’s weakness, and amused himself with manœuvring his splendid army, instead of overwhelming the allied brigades, which were completely within his reach—alone and unsupported.
On the preceding night, the 60th and 74th, who had been in position at Pastores, and cut off by Montbrun in his attack on El Bodon, forded the Agueda, moved along its right bank, and, after an extraordinary march of fifteen hours, reached the British cantonments in safety. At three in the afternoon, the light division joined; and at night the whole retired towards the position where Wellington had resolved to offer battle.
On the 27th, the French pushed forward a strong corps, and a sharp affair occurred at Aldea de Ponte. The village was twice carried by the French,—and as often retaken by Pakenham, with the fusileer brigade and Portuguese Caçadores.
That night Lord Wellington fell back and occupied his selected ground. The Coa was in his rear,—his right extending to the Sierra de Mesas, his centre occupying the village of Soita, and his left resting on the river at Rendo.
This position was too formidable, from its narrow front, to be easily assailed, and the enemy declined an attack. Soon after the French corps separated, and resumed their former cantonments. Marmont retired on the valley of the Tagus, Dorsenne fell back on Salamanca, Girard moved to Mafra, and Foy proceeded to Placentia. The French operations, on the whole, were a miserable failure. It is true, that Rodrigo was relieved—but in every other essay their designs had failed; and Wellington, with an inferior force, completely checked them.