The Great Sieges of History

by William Robson

GIBRALTAR.

A.D. 1779–1783.

As in the history of mankind there are some persons so remarkable and universally known as to make a notice of them almost a work of supererogation, so there are events, which, from the interest they have excited, and the consequences that have attended them, demand, in a work of this description, a much less detailed account than others of less importance: they have created deep and widely-spread excitement during their enactment, and have produced historians worthy to commemorate them. And such is the siege of Gibraltar. This stupendous rock has now remained in the hands of the British one hundred and fifty years! We can only judge of the anomaly of this circumstance by bringing it home by comparison. Suppose the Spaniards, in their zeal for religion, had determined to seize upon the rocky point of the Land’s End, in Cornwall, or the Isle of Anglesea, in Wales, to facilitate their intercourse with Catholic Ireland, this would have been with them quite as legitimate an object as our trade with the Levant is to us. And yet we hold it, in spite of all the hostile efforts of the Spaniards to retake it; and what is still more strange, in spite of treaties of peace, at which such chance acquisitions are generally restored to the right owner. In the same manner the British held Calais, a French town, from the reign of Edward III., 1346, to that of Henry II. of France and Mary of England, when it was taken by surprise by the duke of Guise in 1557. As may be naturally supposed, the proud Spaniards have not quietly submitted to such a disgrace as that of having an inseparable portion of their country held by a foreign and frequently rival power: they have made several efforts to regain it, the most conspicuous of which comes within the scope of this work.

But, as we said above, the history of this siege has been so well written and is so generally known, that Drinkwater has placed it in the same position as Homer has that of Troy;—we could not pass it by, but yet we are not called upon to be particular in our account of it: the world does not stand in need of our history; it has one, better than any we could produce. Gibraltar was one of the fruits of the War of Succession: England took up arms to keep a Bourbon from the throne of Spain, and, during the conflict, an enterprising admiral, Sir George Rooke, added this gem to her crown. There are politicians who think the retention more a point of honour than a real advantage, but such discussions are not within our limits.

The war of 1762 did not present a favourable opportunity for retaking Gibraltar; Chatham was too vigorous a minister to allow a chance of such a loss; but England being at war with her colonies and with France, encouraged Spain, in 1779, to come to a rupture with her, for the well-understood purpose of attempting the great object of the national wish. That this was so, was rendered plain by preparations to cut off the African supplies of provisions to the rock, before war had actually taken place.

Gibraltar is situated in Andalusia, the most southern province of Spain. The rock is seven miles in circumference, running out into the sea in the form of a promontory of more than three miles in length, and is joined to the continent by an isthmus of low sand. The promontory, or rock, at the foot of which stands the town, is upwards of one thousand three hundred feet in height, and appears to have been formerly surrounded by the sea. The breadth of the isthmus at the foot of the rock is about nine hundred yards, but grows much wider as it approaches the country. Across this isthmus, at about a mile’s distance from the garrison, the Spaniards have drawn up a fortified line, extending one thousand seven hundred yards, and embracing both shores, with a strong fort of masonry at each end. That both parties, under such extraordinary circumstances, should exhaust art in their means of defence, and be always on the watch against surprise, we may readily imagine; but what gives the garrison a great advantage in this respect is its commanding height, from which it can see everything that approaches it, by either land or sea. Thus in the whole of this long siege, they appear to have been able to ascertain all that was going on in the enemy’s camp, and to descry every hostile vessel in time to be prepared for it.

Until we come to the great finale, this siege was little more than a blockade, and that imperfect. And yet, with the exception of the “Iliad,” we know of none that is so interesting. Drinkwater’s account has exactly the same charm as Robinson Crusoe’s journal; the events are so minute, and brought so completely home to the apprehension of the reader by the plain and graphic style of the author, that you forget it is an awful reality, and enjoy it as you would a fiction. But such a narrative we cannot adopt into our pages: to transfer it wholly would be dishonest towards a fine work; to garble it would not redound to our credit.

When the re-capture of this member of their own country was undertaken, as there was much difficulty, there was proportionate glory in the enterprise, and the eyes of all Europe were turned towards the Herculean straits. Every exertion was made by Spain—neither labour, money, nor blood was spared. The valour of her troops was ably directed by her generals, and persistently exercised through length of time and difficulties of obstacles enough to cool the ardour of the most devoted partisans. But in addition to the immense advantage of situation, upon a lofty impregnable rock, open to almost constant succour by sea, the British garrison had the still further good fortune of being commanded by a governor most admirably suited to the post. As you read the details of this memorable siege, you cannot help being struck with the idea that General Elliott’s government was a parental one. Never-flinching courage, sleepless watchfulness, consummate prudence, and far-discerning foresight, were joined in him to a kindliness of heart and an urbanity of manners, that made all he required from the troops and officers he was placed over a labour of love. And yet his bonhomie did not overcome his judgment; though never severe, he was never falsely indulgent; he could punish when he was called upon to do so for the public good, as readily, though not as willingly, as he could encourage merit or devotedness by promotion or reward. It may be asserted that Elliott was never so placed as to display the genius of a great commander: but this we deny. In a difficult, isolated position, he was in no instance at a loss; no danger approached him that he was not prepared to meet, and no opportunity for gaining an advantage offered itself that he did not seize.

The two points were,—for the English, the rock, town, and fortress of Gibraltar; for the Spaniards and French, Algeziras, a town situated on the other side of the bay, five and a half miles from Gibraltar. Algeziras had been a city of great importance, and in the middle of the fourteenth century was wrested by Alonzo XI., king of Castile, from the hands of the Moors. This appears to have been a kind of crusade, and one in which the English chivalry took a prominent part; John of Gaunt, and the earls of Derby, Leicester, Salisbury, and Lincoln, all being present. It is likewise said that cannon were first used by the Moors in this siege against their assailants, and were adopted by the English, two years after, at the battle of Crecy, from observing the powerful effects of them. The Spaniards had the great advantage of being masters of the country behind and around them; and though the English had a small naval force in their port, they never had sufficient to prevent constant annoyances from the gun and bomb-boats of Algeziras. Many an anticipated succour, in a vessel which was viewed with delight from the rock, was cut off by the Spanish boats, and carried into Algeziras before the eyes of the disappointed garrison.

With the commencement of the war in 1779, the siege of Gibraltar may be said to have begun. It was, in truth, but an imperfect blockade, but it subjected the garrison to all the watchfulness, labour, and preparation of a real siege. The Spaniards were actively employed in fortifying all their best points; they encamped before the garrison, and erected additional batteries in their lines, but still did not fire upon the town or fort. General Elliott, however, found their proceedings so unmistakable in their purpose, and knowing that war had been declared, he saluted them at their works with a few rounds of shot.