SIEGE OF CIUDAD RODRIGO.
Lord Wellington makes secret preparations to besiege Ciudad Rodrigo.—Siege commences.—City carried by assault—and given up to plunder.
A campaign highly honourable to the British arms had ended, and the rival armies had taken up cantonments for the winter months, each covering an extensive range of country, for the better obtaining of forage and supplies. Active operations for a season were suspended—and officers, whose private concerns or bad health required a temporary leave of absence, had asked and received permission to revisit England. The restoration of the works of Almeida, which the French had half destroyed, occupied the leisure time of the British and Portuguese artificers—while, for the ostensible purpose of arming that fortress, siege stores and a battering train were conveyed thither by water carriage—the Douro having been rendered navigable by the English engineers for an extended distance of forty miles.
But the arming of Almeida was but a feint—the reduction of Ciudad Rodrigo was the real object of Lord Wellington,—and with indefatigable zeal he applied himself to obtain the means. A waggon train was organized—six hundred carts, on an improved construction, were built; and while the French marshal, supposing that the weakness of Lord Wellington was a security against any act of aggression upon his part, detached Montbrun to Valencia, and Dorsenne to the Asturias and Montana, the English general was quietly preparing to strike a sudden and unexpected blow, and completed his necessary arrangements for investing Rodrigo the 6th of January.
Considering the season of the year, and the nakedness of the country for many miles around the threatened fortress, the intended operation was bold to a degree. The horses had scarcely any forage, and the men were literally destitute of bread or shelter. The new year came in inclemently—rain fell in torrents—and though the investment was delayed two days, the brigade (Mackinnon’s) that marched from Aldea de Ponte, left nearly four hundred men behind, in a route of only four-and-twenty miles, numbers of whom perished on the line of march, or died subsequently from the fatigue they had endured.
Ciudad Rodrigo stands on high ground, in the centre of an extensive plain it domineers. The city is erected on the right bank of the Agueda, which there branches into numerous channels, and forms a number of small islands. The citadel commands the town, and standing on an elevated mound is difficult of access on every side. Since their late occupation, the French had added considerably to the strength of the place. The suburbs were secured against a coup de main, by fortifying two convents on their flanks, and another nearly in the centre. On the north side the ground rises in two places; that furthest from the works is thirteen feet above the level of the ramparts, from which it is distant six hundred yards. The other, of lesser altitude, is scarcely two hundred paces. On the former the enemy had erected a redoubt; it was protected by a fortified convent called San Francisco, as well as the artillery of the place, which commanded the approaches from the hill.
The Agueda is fordable in several places, the best passage being within pistol-shot of the walls. In winter, from the sudden floodings of the river, these fords cannot be relied upon—and a bridge of eighteen trestles, with a platform four hundred feet long, was secretly constructed in the citadel of Almeida and conveyed to Salices.
Four divisions were entrusted with the duties of the siege. They took their turns in course—each for twenty-four hours furnishing the requisite guards and working parties.
On the night of the 8th of January, the investment was regularly commenced, and the redoubt on the upper Teson stormed by three companies of the 52nd with trifling loss. Ground was broken on its flank—and by the morning the trench was four feet wide and three in depth. On the following night the first parallel was opened; and the outlines of three batteries, for eleven guns each, were traced.
The weather continued dreadfully inclement; and as it was believed that Marmont would endeavour to raise the siege, Wellington decided on rapid operations, and resolved to attempt a storm even with the counterscarps entire. Both the besiegers and the besieged were active in their operations. On the night of the 13th, the convent of Santa Cruz was taken; and on the 14th, while the division was coming to relieve the working parties, the garrison made a sortie, overturned the gabions in advance of the parallel, and would have succeeded in spiking the guns, but for the spirited opposition of a few workmen and engineers, who checked the attempt, until the head of the division closing up obliged the French to retire.
On the morning of the 14th, the batteries were nearly ready for breaching, mounted with twenty-three 24-pounders and two eighteens. At four o’clock in the afternoon their fire commenced,—and a spectacle more strikingly magnificent, it has rarely been the good fortune even of a British soldier to witness.
“The evening chanced to be remarkably beautiful and still; there was not a cloud in the sky, nor a breath of wind astir, when suddenly the roar of artillery broke in upon its calmness, and volumes of smoke rose slowly from the batteries. These floating gently towards the town, soon enveloped the lower part of the hill, and even the ramparts and bastions in a dense veil; while the towers and summits lifting their heads over the haze, showed like fairy buildings, or those unsubstantial castles which are sometimes seen in the clouds on a summer’s day. The flashes from the British guns, answered as they were from the artillery in the front, and the roar of their thunder reverberating among the remote mountains of the Sierra de Francisca; these, with the rattle of the balls against the walls, proved altogether a scene which, to be rightly understood, must be experienced.”[153]
That night the convent of San Francisco was escaladed by a wing of the 40th,—and the French having abandoned the suburbs, they were occupied by the besiegers.
At daybreak on the 15th the batteries resumed their fire, and at sunset the walls of the main scarp and fausse braye[154] were visibly shaken.[155] Under cover of a fog on the 16th, the second parallel was prolonged; but the front of the works was so limited, and the fire of the enemy so concentrated and correct, that it required immense time to throw up a battery. The difficulty may be readily imagined, from the fact of the French having discharged at the approaches, upwards of twenty thousand shot and shells. Another battery of seven guns was opened on the 18th. On the 19th, two breaches were distinctly visible from the trenches, and on being carefully reconnoitred, they were declared practicable. Lord Wellington examined them in person,—decided on storming them that evening,—and from behind the reverse of one of the approaches, issued written orders for the assault.
The French were not inactive. The larger breach, exposing a shattered front of more than one hundred feet, had been carefully mined—the base of the wall strewn with shells and grenades, and the top, where troops might escalade, similarly defended. Behind, a deep retrenchment was cut to insulate the broken rampart, in the event of its being carried by storm. The lesser breach was narrow at the top, exceedingly steep, with a four-and-twenty-pounder turned sideways, that blocked the passage up, except an opening between the muzzle and the wall, by which two files might enter.
Early in the evening, the third and light divisions were moved from their cantonments. At six, the third moved to the rear of the first parallel, two gun-shots from the main breach,—while the light formed behind a convent, three hundred yards in front of the smaller one. Darkness came on,—and with it came the order to “Stand to arms.” With calm determination, the soldiers of the third division heard their commanding officer announce the main breach as the object of attack; and every man prepared himself promptly for the desperate struggle. Off went the packs,—the stocks were unbuckled,—the cartouch box arranged to meet the hand more readily,—flints were screwed home,—every one after his individual fancy, fitting himself for action. The companies were carefully told off—the sergeants called the rolls,—and not a man was missing.
The town clock struck seven,—and its sonorous bell knelled the fate of hundreds. Presently the forlorn hope formed under the leading of the senior subaltern of the 88th, William Mackie: and Picton and Mackinnon rode up and joined the division. The former’s address to the Connaught Rangers was brief, it was to “Spare powder, and trust entirely to cold iron.” The word was given,—“Forward!” was repeated in under tones,—the forlorn hope led the way,—the storming party, carrying bags filled with dry grass, followed,—the division in column succeeded,—all moved on in desperate silence, and of the third division not a file hung back.
The fifth regiment joined from the right, and all pressed forward to the breach. The bags, thrown into the ditch by the sappers, reduced the depth one half; ladders were instantly raised, the storming party mounted, and after a short but severe struggle, the breach was won.
Before the storming party had entered the ditch, the shells and combustibles had been prematurely exploded, occasioning but trifling loss to the assailants. The French instantly abandoned the breach, sprang the mines, and fell back behind the retrenchment, from which, and from the neighbouring houses, they maintained a murderous fire.
In the mean time the light division had stormed the lesser breach. It was most gallantly carried; and the loss would not have been severe, but for the accidental explosion of a service magazine behind the traverse, by which several officers and a number of men were destroyed. Directed by the heavy fire at the main breach, part of the 43rd and 95th rushed along the ramparts to assist their comrades of the third division; and Pack’s brigade, having converted their feint upon the southern face of the works into a real attack, entered the “fausse braye,” and drove the French before them with the bayonet. Thus threatened in their rear, the enemy abandoned the retrenchment; and, still resisting, were driven from street to street, until they flung down their arms, and asked and received that quarter which the laws of war denied, and the fury of an excited soldiery left them but little hope of obtaining.
The town was won; but, alas! many of the best and bravest had fallen. Craufurd[156] was mortally wounded in leading the light division to the lesser breach; and Mackinnon[157] blown up, after having gained the ramparts of the great one. During the siege, the allies lost three officers and seventy-seven killed; twenty-four officers and five hundred men wounded; while in the storm, six officers and one hundred and forty men fell, and sixty officers and nearly five hundred men were wounded. The French loss was severe; and the commandant, General Barrie, with eighty officers and seventeen hundred men, were taken prisoners. There were found upon the works one hundred and nine pieces of artillery, a battering train of forty-four guns, and an armoury and arsenal filled with military stores.
Thus fell Rodrigo. On the evening of the 8th the first ground was broken,—on that of the 19th the British colours were flying on the ramparts. Massena, after a tedious bombardment, took a full month to reduce it; Wellington carried it by assault in eleven days. No wonder that Marmont, in his despatch to Berthier, was puzzled to account for the rapid reduction of a place, respecting whose present safety and ultimate relief, he had previously forwarded the most encouraging assurances.[158]
After all resistance had ceased, the usual scene of riot, plunder, and confusion, which by prescriptive right the stormers of a town enjoy, occurred. Every house was entered and despoiled; the spirit stores were forced open; the soldiery got desperately excited; and in the madness of their intoxication, committed many acts of silly and wanton violence. All plundered what they could—and in turn they were robbed by their own companions. Brawls and bloodshed resulted—and the same men who, shoulder to shoulder, had won their way over the “imminent deadly breach,” fought with demoniac ferocity for some disputed article of plunder. At last, worn out by fatigue, and stupified with brandy, they sank into brutal insensibility; and on the second day, with few exceptions, rejoined their regiments; the assault and sacking of Rodrigo appearing in their confused imaginations, rather like some troubled dream than a desperate and blood-stained reality.
On the second day, order was tolerably restored; stragglers had returned to their regiments; the breaches were repaired, the trenches filled in, and the place being once more perfectly defensible, was given up by Lord Wellington to Castanos, the captain-general of the province, who had been present at the siege. Additional honours were deservedly conferred upon the conqueror of Rodrigo. Wellington was created an English earl and a Spanish duke—and a farther annuity of 2,000l. a year was voted by a grateful country, to support the dignities she had so deservedly conferred.
But another and a bolder blow was yet to be struck. Again the troops were put in motion, and the order was obeyed with pleasure, all being too happy to quit a place where every supply had been exhausted, and every object recalled the loss of relatives and friends.[159] Leaving a division of infantry on the Agueda, the remainder of the army moved rapidly back upon the Tagus, and, crossing the river, headquarters were established at Elvas, on the 11th. There every preparation was completed for one of the boldest of Lord Wellington’s attempts,—for on the 16th, a pontoon bridge across the Guadiana was traversed by the light, third, and fourth divisions—and Badajoz regularly invested.[160]