THE SIEGE OF RODRIGO.
1812.
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 Britain.
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 British
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
organised--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 British 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 substantial
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.
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 were visibly shaken. 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 meantime 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 first men that surmounted the difficulties the breach presented
were a sergeant and two privates of the 88th. The French, who still
remained beside the gun, whose sweeping fire had hitherto been so
fatal to those who led the storm, attacked these brave men furiously;
a desperate hand-to-hand encounter succeeded. The Irishmen, undaunted
by the superior number of their assailants, laid five or six of the
gunners at their feet. The struggle was observed, and some soldiers
of the 5th regiment scrambled up to the assistance of their gallant
comrades, and the remnant of the French gunners perished by their
bayonets.
Lieutenant Mackie, who led the forlorn hope, had miraculously escaped
without a wound, and pressing “over the dying and the dead,” he reached
the further bank of the retrenchment, and found himself in solitary
possession of the street beyond the breach, while the battle still
raged behind him.
The town was won; but alas! many of the best and bravest had fallen.
General Craufurd was mortally wounded in leading the light division to
the lesser breach, and General Mackinnon was killed after having gained
the ramparts of the greater breach.
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.
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 stupefied 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 bloodstained 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 a British earl and a Spanish duke, and a farther annuity of
£2000 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. 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.