Spanish village accommodation—The siege of Ciudad Rodrigo—Picton’s
address to the Connaught Rangers in front of the breach—Lieutenant
William Mackie and the forlorn hope.
The brigade reached Robleda at nine o’clock at night, and our quarters
there, which at any time would have been considered good, appeared to
us, after our wretched billets at Aldea-de-Ponte, and the fatigue of a
harassing march, sumptuous. The villages in Spain, like those of France,
are well supplied with beds, and the house allotted to me, D‘Arcy, and
Captain Peshall, was far from deficient in those essentials. A loud
knocking at the door of the cottage announced the arrival of Peshall,
who, like some others, had been “thrown out” on the march, and who
sought for his billet in the best manner he could. He was a man who
might boast of as well-stocked a canteen as any other captain in the
army; and upon this occasion it made a proud display. The fireplace was
abundantly supplied with wood, and at each side of the chimney there was
a profusion of that kind of furniture which I ever considered as
indispensable to complete the garniture of a well-regulated cuisine, no
matter whether in a cottage or château—I mean hams, sausages, and
flitches of well-cured bacon.
While I contemplated all the luxuries with which I was surrounded, I
felt exceedingly happy, and I am inclined to think that the evening of
the 4th of January 1812 was, if not one of the pleasantest of my life,
unquestionably one of the most rational I ever passed. Our baggage had
by this time arrived, and having got on dry clothes, we began to attack
the contents of Peshall’s canteen, which was ever at the service of his
friends; it contained, among other good things, a Lamego ham, and a cold
roast leg of mountain mutton, “morsels which may take rank,
notwithstanding their Spartan plainness, with the most disguised of
foreign manufacture.” It is scarcely necessary to add that we did ample
justice to the viands placed before us, and having taken a sufficient
libation of brandy punch, in which the Spaniard joined us, we turned our
thoughts to our beds.
We arose early the following morning, the 5th, and the brigade reached
the small village of Atalaya, distant three leagues from Rodrigo, a
little before noon. That fortress was completely invested on the evening
of the 7th, and dispositions were made to commence operations against it
on the night following.
Ciudad Rodrigo stands upon an eminence, on the right bank of the river
Agueda, and is difficult of access; it had been, since its occupation by
the French, much strengthened by the construction of a redoubt on the
hill above St. Francisco; some old convents in the suburbs were also
turned into defences, and these places no longer presented their
original peaceful appearance, but were, in fact, very respectable
outworks, and tended much to our annoyance and loss at the commencement
of the siege.
To be safe against a _coup-de-main_, Rodrigo would require a force of
from five to six thousand troops, and its present garrison did not
reckon anything like three thousand bayonets; it was therefore manifest
that, notwithstanding the unfavourable time of the year, it must fall if
not speedily succoured; yet it would seem that Marshal Marmont took no
measures to make a diversion in its favour. Strongly impressed with this
state of the matter, our commander saw the advantage he would have over
his opponent, by acting with as little delay as possible. Protected by a
strong escort, Lord Wellington carefully reconnoitred the town on the
8th; and shortly after dark, three hundred men of the Light Division,
headed by Colonel Colborne of the 52nd, were formed for the attack of
St. Francisco. They were followed by a working party, composed also of
men of the Light Division. The storming party, led on by Colonel
Colborne, advanced under cover of the night, and were not discovered
until they had reached to within a few yards of the redoubt, and our
troops rushed on with such impetuosity that the outwork was carried, and
the soldiers that defended it put to the sword, before the garrison of
Rodrigo thought it in danger; and profiting by the panic with which the
enemy were seized, Colonel Colborne caused the works of the redoubt to
be razed, completed the first parallel, and rendered our future
approaches secure.
The duty in the trenches was carried on by the 1st, 3rd, 4th, and Light
Divisions, each taking its separate tour every twenty-four hours. We had
no tents or huts of any description, and the ground was covered with
snow, nevertheless the soldiers were cheerful, and everything went on
well. The fortified convents in the suburbs were respectively carried,
and each sortie made by the garrison was immediately repulsed; in some
instances our men pursued them to the very _glacis_, and many a fine
fellow, carried away by his enthusiasm, died at the muzzles of their
cannon.
Every exertion was made to forward the work, so fully were all impressed
with its necessity; but notwithstanding the animated exertions of the
engineers, and the ready co-operation of the infantry, their progress
was at times unavoidably slower than was anticipated. In some instances
the soil was so unfavourable, it was next to an impossibility to make
head against it; instead of clay or gravel, we frequently met with a
vein of rock, and invariably when this occurred our losses were severe,
for the pick-axes, coming in contact with the stone, caused sparks to
issue that plainly told the enemy where we were, and, as a matter of
course, they redoubled their efforts on these points; nevertheless, on
the 14th, in the afternoon, we were enabled to open our fire from
twenty-two pieces of cannon, superior to those which armed our batteries
at Badajoz the year before, inasmuch as the former guns were of brass,
while those which we now used were of metal. On this night we
established the second parallel, distant only one hundred and fifty
yards from the body of the place.
[Illustration: PLAN OF SIEGE OF CIUDAD RODRIGO. January 8–19, 1812.]
On the 15th the second parallel was in a forward state, and the approach
by sap to the glacis was considerably advanced; the effect also of our
fire was such as made us perceive a material alteration in the enemy’s
mode of replying to it; and it was apparent, that although but seven
days before the place, our labours were soon likely to be brought to a
termination. The cannonade of the enemy, however, if not as great as at
first, was more effective, and our casualties more numerous, for their
guns and mortars were directed with a scientific precision that did
credit to the men who served them. But every hour proved the visible
superiority of our fire over that of the enemy, which at times seemed to
be altogether extinguished; and whenever it shone forth with anything
like brilliancy, it was but momentary, and might be well likened to some
spark of combustible matter, issuing from the interior of a nearly
consumed ruin. Wherever danger was greatest, there were our engineers,
and it was painful to see their devotedness; on horseback or on foot,
under cover or exposed to fire, was to them the same, and their example
was followed by the soldiers with an enthusiasm unequalled; in short, it
was plain that a few hours would suffice to decide the fate of Ciudad
Rodrigo. At this period (the 18th) the 4th Division occupied and
performed the duty in the trenches.
Early on the morning of the 19th, the 3rd Division (although not for
duty that day) received orders to march to the Convent of La Caridad;
and as Lord Wellington was not in the habit of giving us unnecessary
marches, we concluded that he intended us the honour of forming one of
the corps destined to carry the place. On our march we perceived our old
friends and companions, the Light Division, debouching from their
cantonments, and the joy expressed by our men when they saw them is not
to be described; we were long acquainted, and like horses accustomed to
the same harness, we pulled well together. At two o’clock in the
afternoon we left La Caridad, and, passing to the rear of the first
parallel, formed in column about two gun-shots distant from the main
breach. The 4th Division still occupied the works, and it was the
general opinion that ours (the 3rd) were to be in reserve. The number of
Spaniards, Portuguese, and soldiers' wives in the character of sutlers,
was immense, and the neighbourhood, which but a few days before was only
an empty plain, now presented the appearance of a vast camp. Wretches of
the poorest description hovered round us, in hopes of getting a morsel
of food, or of plundering some dead or wounded soldier: their cadaverous
countenances expressed a living picture of the greatest want; and it
required all our precaution to prevent these miscreants from robbing us
the instant we turned our backs from our scanty store of baggage or
provisions.
Our bivouac, as may be supposed, presented an animated appearance—groups
of soldiers cooking in one place; in another, some dozens collected
together, listening to accounts brought from the works by some of their
companions whom curiosity had led thither; others relating their past
battles to any of the young soldiers who had not as yet come
hand-to-hand with a Frenchman; others dancing and singing; officers'
servants preparing dinner for their masters; and officers themselves,
dressed in whatever way best suited their taste or convenience, mixed
with the men, without any distinguishing mark of uniform to denote their
rank. The only thing uniform to be discovered amongst a group of between
four and five thousand was good conduct and confidence in themselves and
their general.
It was now five o’clock in the afternoon, and darkness was approaching
fast, yet no order had arrived intimating that we were to take a part in
the contest about to be decided. We were in this state of suspense when
our attention was attracted by the sound of music; we all stood up, and
pressed forward to a ridge, a little in our front, and which separated
us from the cause of our movement, but it would be impossible for me to
convey an adequate idea of our feelings when we beheld the 43rd
Regiment, preceded by their band, going to storm the left breach; they
were in the highest spirits, but without the slightest appearance of
levity in their demeanour—on the contrary, there was a cast of
determined severity thrown over their countenances that expressed in
legible characters that they knew the sort of service they were about to
perform, and had made up their minds to the issue. They had no
knapsacks—their firelocks were slung over their shoulders—their
shirt-collars were open, and there was an indescribable _something_
about them that at one and the same moment impressed the lookers-on with
admiration and awe. In passing us, each officer and soldier stepped out
of the ranks for an instant, as he recognised a friend, to press his
hand—many for the last time; yet, notwithstanding this animating scene,
there was no shouting or huzzaing, no boisterous bravadoing, no
unbecoming language; in short, every one seemed to be impressed with the
seriousness of the affair entrusted to his charge, and any interchange
of words was to this effect: “Well, lads, mind what you’re about
to-night”; or, “We’ll meet in the town by and by”; and other little
familiar phrases, all expressive of confidence. The regiment at length
passed us, and we stood gazing after it as long as the rear platoon
continued in sight: the music grew fainter every moment, until at last
it died away altogether; they had no drums, and there was a melting
sweetness in the sounds that touched the heart.
The first syllable uttered after this scene was, “And are we to be left
behind?” The interrogatory was scarcely put, when the word “Stand to
your arms!” answered it. The order was promptly obeyed, and a breathless
silence prevailed when our commanding officer, in a few words, announced
to us that Lord Wellington had directed our division to carry the grand
breach. The soldiers listened to the communication with silent
earnestness, and immediately began to disencumber themselves of their
knapsacks, which were placed in order by companies and a guard set over
them. Each man then began to arrange himself for the combat in such
manner as his fancy or the moment would admit of—some by lowering their
cartridge-boxes, others by turning theirs to the front in order that
they might the more conveniently make use of them; others unclasping
their stocks or opening their shirt-collars, and others oiling their
bayonets; and more taking leave of their wives and children. This last
was an affecting sight, but not so much so as might be expected, because
the women, from long habit, were accustomed to scenes of danger, and the
order for their husbands to march against the enemy was in their eyes
tantamount to a victory; and as the soldier seldom returned without
plunder of some sort, the painful suspense which his absence caused was
made up by the gaiety which his return was certain to be productive of;
or if, unfortunately, he happened to fall, his place was sure to be
supplied by some one of the company to which he belonged, so that the
women of our army had little cause of alarm on this head. The worst that
could happen to them was the chance of being in a state of widowhood for
a week.
It was by this time half-past six o’clock, the evening was piercingly
cold, and the frost was crisp on the grass; there was a keenness in the
air that braced our nerves at least as high as _concert pitch_. We stood
quietly to our arms, and told our companies off by files, sections, and
sub-divisions; the sergeants called over the rolls—not a man was absent.
It appears it was the wish of General Mackinnon to confer a mark of
distinction upon the 88th Regiment, and as it was one of the last acts
of his life, I shall mention it. He sent for Major Thompson, who
commanded the battalion, and told him it was his wish to have the
forlorn hope of the grand breach led on by a subaltern of the 88th
Regiment, adding at the same time that, in the event of his surviving,
he should be recommended for a company. The Major acknowledged this mark
of the General’s favour, and left him folding up some letters he had
been writing to his friends in England—this was about twenty minutes
before the attack of the breaches. Major Thompson, having called his
officers together, briefly told them the wishes of their General; he was
about to proceed, when Lieutenant William Mackie (_then senior
Lieutenant_) immediately stepped forward, and dropping his sword said,
“Major Thompson, I am ready for that service.” For once in his life poor
old Thompson was affected—Mackie was his own townsman, they had fought
together for many years, and when he took hold of his hand and
pronounced the words, “God bless you, my boy,” his eye filled, his lip
quivered, and there was a faltering in his voice which was evidently
perceptible to himself, for he instantly resumed his former composure,
drew himself up, and gave the word, “Gentlemen, fall in,” and at this
moment Generals Picton and Mackinnon, accompanied by their respective
staffs, made their appearance amongst us.
Long harangues are not necessary to British soldiers, and on this
occasion but few words were made use of. Picton said something animating
to the different regiments as he passed them, and those of my readers
who recollect his deliberate and strong utterance will say with me, that
his mode of speaking was indeed very impressive. The address to each was
nearly the same, but that delivered by him to the 88th was so
characteristic of the General, and so applicable to the men he spoke to,
that I shall give it word for word; it was this:—
“Rangers of Connaught! it is not my intention to expend any powder this
evening. We’ll do this business with the could iron.”
I before said the soldiers were silent—so they were, but the man who
could be silent after such an address, made in such a way, and in such a
place, had better have stayed at home. It may be asked what did they do?
Why, what would they do, or would any one do, but give the loudest
hurrah he was able.