The Story of Wellington

The heat and other considerations prevented Wellington from besieging Badajoz; to relieve Cadiz was out of the question because the forces of Soult and Marmont would be almost certain to come to the assistance of the force before the great southern port. He therefore decided to besiege Ciudad Rodrigo, for four reasons stated in a letter to the Earl of Liverpool dated the 18th July, namely: “We can derive some assistance from our militia in the north in carrying it into execution, and the climate in which the operation is to be carried on is not unfavorable at this season. If it should not succeed, the attempt will remove the war to the strongest frontier of Portugal; and, if obliged to resume the defensive, the strength of our army will be centrically situated, while the enemy’s armies of the north and of the south will be disunited.” Shortly after the above dispatch was written he heard that Suchet had captured Tarragona, which made the proposed operation “less favorable.” “However,” he tells Beresford on the 20th of the same month, “we shall have a very fine army of little less than 60,000 men,67 including artillery, in the course of about a fortnight; and I do not see what I can do with it, to improve the situation of the allies, during the period in which it is probable that, the enemy’s attention being taken up with the affairs of the north of Europe,68 we shall be more nearly on a par of strength with him, excepting we undertake this operation.”

Lieutenant-General Hill was entrusted with the duty of watching the enemy in Alemtejo,69 and two divisions were left in Estremadura. The Commander-in-Chief, with some 40,000 men, hastened towards Ciudad Rodrigo, unaware at the moment that the garrison had been reinforced and that Napoleon was sending more men to the Peninsula. When these important facts reached him he contented himself with blockading the place, and prepared to retire behind the Agueda should necessity warrant. Marmont sent for Dorsenne, who had taken the command in Galicia from Bessières, and with 60,000 troops set out toward the end of September to relieve Ciudad Rodrigo. Wellington then occupied El Bodon, on the left bank of the Agueda. “The object of taking a position so near to the enemy,” he says, “was to force them to show their army. This was an object, because the people of the country, as usual, believed and reported that the enemy were not so strong as we knew them to be; and if they had not seen the enemy’s strength, they would have entertained a very unfavorable opinion of the British army, which it was desirable to avoid. This object was accomplished by the operations at the close of September.”

Early on the morning of the 25th the Marshal drove in the outposts of Wellington’s left wing, and turned the heights occupied by the right centre, thereby placing the British Commander in a dangerous position, from which he extricated himself by hurling his cavalry at the horsemen and artillery now endeavouring to scale the heights. Two British guns were captured and retaken at the point of the bayonet. When the French infantry were brought into action Wellington gradually withdrew in the direction of Fuente Guinaldo, pursued by the enemy’s cavalry, which were received by solid British squares and repelled as six miles were traversed. Marmont again advanced on the 26th, but did not attack. Wellington retreated until he reached a strong position in front of Sabugal on the 28th.

A rear-guard action had been fought on the previous day at Aldea da Ponte, but Marmont withdrew without offering battle, and, after supplying much needed necessaries to Ciudad Rodrigo, proceeded to the Tagus valley and Dorsenne to Salamanca. Wellington renewed the blockade “in order,” as he says, “to keep a large force of the enemy employed to observe our operations, and to prevent them from undertaking any operation elsewhere.” Placing his army in cantonments on the banks of the Coa, the Commander-in-Chief made his headquarters at Freneda.

While in their winter quarters both officers and men were able to recuperate after their previous arduous campaign. Sports, theatricals and other amusements helped to pass away the time and to cheer up the army. Even more important was the opportunity thus afforded the many semi-invalids to recover their health. “We are really almost an army of convalescents.” Wellington himself rode to hounds occasionally, and applauded the amateur histrionic efforts of his soldiers, when time and circumstances permitted him to attend their performances. He was able to re-establish Almeida as a military post, where he kept his battering-train to deceive the enemy, to blockade Ciudad Rodrigo, and to prepare for its investment.

Meanwhile the guerillas were “increasing in numbers and boldness throughout the Peninsula,” constantly annoying the French commanders. “It was their indomitable spirit of resistance,” says Professor Oman,70 “which enabled Wellington, with his small Anglo-Portuguese army, to keep the field against such largely superior numbers. No sooner had the French concentrated, and abandoned a district, than there sprang up in it a local Junta and a ragged apology for an army. Even where the invaders lay thickest, along the route from Bayonne to Madrid, guerilla bands maintained themselves in the mountains, cut off couriers and escorts, and often isolated one French army from another for weeks at a time. The greater partisan chiefs, such as Mina in Navarre, Julian Sanchez in Leon, and Porlier in the Cantabrian hills, kept whole brigades of the French in constant employment. Often beaten, they were never destroyed, and always reappeared to strike some daring blow at the point where they were least expected. Half the French army was always employed in the fruitless task of guerilla-hunting. This was the secret which explains the fact that, with 300,000 men under arms, the invaders could never concentrate more than 70,000 to deal with Wellington.”

In the autumn and winter of 1811 the enemy accomplished nothing of importance in eastern and southern Spain. In the south-east Suchet defeated Blake on the 25th October at the battle of Sagunto, “the last pitched battle of the war,” remarks the above authority, “in which a Spanish army, unaided by British troops, attempted to face the French.” Forced into the city of Valencia with part of his motley array, Blake made a gallant attempt to rid himself of his besieger, an almost impossible task considering that Suchet had been reinforced while the unfortunate Spanish commander had been considerably reduced. On the 9th January 1812 his 16,000 followers laid down their weapons.

The investment of Ciudad Rodrigo by Wellington had been delayed owing to a complexity of causes. All the carting had to be performed by Portuguese and Spanish, and their slowness and the inclement weather combined precluded the Commander-in-Chief from pushing forward his operations with any celerity of movement. Empty carts took two days to go ten miles on a good road. Wellington confessed that he had to appear satisfied, otherwise the drivers would have deserted. If he succeeded in his designs he hoped to “make a fine campaign in the spring”; if he did not, “I shall bring back towards this frontier the whole [French] army which had marched towards Valencia and Aragon. By these means I hope to save Valencia.”

Alas, for human ambition! The capital of the province fell three days after the above dispatch was written.

On the 8th January 1812 a start was made, and Ciudad Rodrigo invested. During the night the palisaded redoubt on the hill of San Francisco, which the French had recently constructed, was stormed and carried, but Wellington at once perceived that the enemy had made good use of their time by strengthening their works and fortifying three convents in the suburbs. “The success of this operation,” he writes, “enabled us immediately to break ground within 600 yards of the place, notwithstanding that the enemy still hold the fortified convents; and the enemy’s work has been turned into a part of our first parallel, and a good communication made with it.” Wellington encamped his men on the southern bank, which necessitated their fording the narrow stream, although he had built a bridge lower down the Agueda for munitions. It was no child’s play for the soldiers. Through icy cold water, across ground covered with snow and frost, and amidst a rain of shot and shell, these brave fellows went to their work, each division in succession. Some of them returned, others did not, for “The path of glory leads but to the grave.”

The convent of Santa Cruz was captured on the night of the 13th, followed on the 14th by the fall of the convent of San Francisco and other fortified posts in the suburbs. By this time batteries were within 180 yards of the walls. “We proceeded at Ciudad Rodrigo,” he tells the Duke of Richmond, “on quite a new principle in sieges. The whole object of our fire was to lay open the walls. We had not one mortar; nor a howitzer, excepting to prevent the enemy from clearing the breaches, and for that purpose we had only two; and we fired upon the flanks and defences only when we wished to get the better of them, with a view to protect those who were to storm. This shows the kind of place we had to attack....” Matters now became urgent, for advice had been received that Marmont was stirring. By the 19th the breaches made in the ramparts by the artillery were declared practicable. Wellington had already summoned the Governor to surrender. His reply was that “he and the brave garrison which he commanded were prepared rather to bury themselves in the ruins of a place entrusted to them by their Emperor.” The troops, consisting of the regiments of the 3rd and Light Divisions and some Portuguese caçadores, marched to the assault in five columns. “Rangers of Connaught,” cried General Picton to the “Fighting 3rd,” who were charged with the centre attack, “it is not my intention to expend any powder this evening; we’ll do this business with the cold iron.”

It was the task of Picton and his men to assault the great breach, while the 52nd, the 43rd, and the 95th regiments, assisted by two battalions of caçadores, assaulted the other. At the same time a brigade of Portuguese under General Pack was to make a feint at the Santiago gate, at the southern end of the town, and the light company of the 83rd regiment with another body of native soldiers were to scale the castle walls. As the columns advanced the moon, then in its first quarter, revealed their black outline to the enemy. They at once opened fire. No reply was vouchsafed by the Allies, who marched with fixed bayonets and unloaded muskets. It was not part of their plan to return a greeting made by men who were behind ramparts.

The Portuguese under Colonel O’Toole were the first to attack, closely followed by the 5th, 94th, and 77th regiments, the last supposed to act as a reserve. The Light Division, impatient of delay and not wishing to be rivalled in prowess, hurled themselves at the small breach without waiting for the bags of hay which were to be thrown in the ditch to assist them in crossing. Many of the attacking force literally passed over the shot-riddled bodies of the vanguard as they attempted to get through. Major George Napier, while leading his men, had his arm shattered, but still continued to encourage them; Robert Craufurd, the intrepid and cantankerous commander of the Light Division, fell mortally wounded; Major-General Mackinnon was blown up by the explosion of a magazine. Nine officers and eleven non-commissioned officers and drummers gave up their lives for their country during the siege and in the assault from the 8th to the 19th, the total loss in killed and injured being nearly 1000. The hand-to-hand fighting continued in the streets, and the town caught fire.

At dawn 1700 of the enemy surrendered, including the Governor. Marmont’s battering train, scores of field guns, and a plentiful supply of ammunition fell into the hands of the victors. Wellington had “great pleasure” in reporting “the uniform good conduct, and spirit of enterprise, and patience, and perseverance in the performance of great labor” on the part of the troops who had been engaged. As for the men themselves, they got drunk and sacked the place.

Wellington’s rewards for the capture of Ciudad Rodrigo were numerous. He became an Earl in Great Britain, a Duke in Spain, and a Marquis in Portugal. In addition he was granted an extra annual pension of £2000 by Parliament. Financial offers were also forthcoming from the two Peninsula Powers, but he declined them. “He had only done his duty to his country, and to his country alone he would look for his reward.”

Marmont was in ignorance of the siege until the 15th January. He then began to make preparations, but when he was ready the fortress had fallen, and he moved his army to Valladolid, to the north-east. Napoleon then sent orders to the Marshal that if he could not regain Ciudad Rodrigo he was to return to Salamanca, cross the frontier, and advance on Almeida. He foresaw that perhaps Wellington might turn his attention to Badajoz, which, in the Emperor’s opinion, would be a “mistake,” and that of necessity he would have to return to succour the Portuguese fortress: “You will soon bring him back again.” The British Commander also surmised that another attack on Ciudad was quite possible. Before setting out on his next bold enterprise he therefore put the fortifications in thorough repair, and brought up a reserve supply of 50,000 rations in case it should be besieged. Satisfied that the place could now offer a bold resistance to the enemy, and having also repaired the works of Almeida, he marched the greater part of his army to the valley of the Guadiana, and invested Badajoz, which is on the left side of that river, on the 16th March 1812.

Wellington fully appreciated the immense value of time, and if he did not actually work with his eyes on the clock, he always endeavoured to fix a definite date for his operations. Thus as early as the preceding January he had written to his brother from Gallegos, a little to the north of Ciudad, that it was probable he would be in readiness to invest the place “in the second week in March.” “We shall have great advantages in making the attack so early if the weather will allow of it,” he tells another correspondent. “First, all the torrents in this part of the country are then full, so that we may assemble nearly our whole army on the Guadiana, without risk to anything valuable here.71 Secondly, it will be convenient to assemble our army at an early period in Estremadura, for the sake of the green forage, which comes in earlier to the south than here. Thirdly, we shall have advantages, in point of subsistence, over the enemy, at that season, which we should not have at a later period. Fourthly, their operations will necessarily be confined by the swelling of the rivers in that part as well as here.” In order to deceive the enemy he remained behind with the 5th Division as long as possible and gave instructions for a report to be circulated to the effect that he was going to hunt on the banks of the Huelbra and Yeltes.

CHAPTER XV

Badajoz and Salamanca

(1812)

“I shall not give the thing up without good cause.”

Wellington.

Considerable energy was displayed by the troops in the siege operations at Badajoz, notwithstanding the persistent torrents of rain which soaked the men to the skin and filled the trenches as they worked. A bridge of pontoons was carried away and the flying bridges irretrievably injured by the swollen state of the Guadiana. The place was by no means an easy one to take, for strong outworks defended it, and Philippon, the French Governor, was a most able officer in whom his troops placed every confidence. However, good fortune did not attend the first sortie made by about 2000 of the enemy on the 19th March. They were “almost immediately driven in, without effecting any object, with considerable loss, by Major-General Bowes, who commanded the guard in the trenches,” to quote from Wellington’s official dispatch.

On the 25th an attack was made on fort Picurina, an advanced post separated from Badajoz by the little river called the Rivillas. Twenty-eight guns in six batteries were brought to bear upon it, and after dark the place was carried by storm, although it was protected by three rows of palisades defended by musketry. The garrison of the outwork consisted of about 250 men. Of these ninety, including the colonel, were taken prisoners, and most of the others were either killed or drowned in the swollen stream. An attempt was made to succour the brave defenders, but the soldiers were driven back before they could come up to the Picurina. The possession of this outwork enabled Wellington to place guns within 300 yards of the body of the place, and on the following day two breaching batteries began their work of destruction, with the result that on the 6th April three breaches were declared to be practicable.

At ten o’clock that night the attempt was to be made, the 3rd Division under Picton escalading the castle, the 4th Division with General the Hon. C. Colville attacking the bastion of La Trinidad, the Light Division commanded by Colonel Barnard the bastion of Santa Maria, General Leith’s 5th Division the bastion of San Vincente. The attack on the bastions was to be made by storming the breaches. Wellington stood on rising ground facing the main breach, accompanied by the Prince of Orange and Lord March.

“When the head of the Light Division arrived at the ditch of the place (the great breach) it was a beautiful moonlight night,” Sir Harry Smith relates with the authority of a participant in the action.72 “Old Alister Cameron, who was in command of four Companies of the 95th Regiment, extended along the counterscarp to attract the enemy’s fire, while the column planted their ladders and descended, came up to Barnard and said, ‘Now my men are ready; shall I begin?’ ‘No, certainly not,’ says Barnard. The breach and the works were full of the enemy, looking quietly at us, but not fifty yards off and most prepared, although not firing a shot. So soon as our ladders were all ready posted, and the columns in the very act to move and rush down the ladders, Barnard called out, ‘Now, Cameron!’ and the first shot from us brought down such a hail of fire as I shall never forget, nor ever saw before or since. It was most murderous. We flew down the ladders and rushed at the breach, but we were broken, and carried no weight with us, although every soldier was a hero. The breach was covered by a breastwork from behind, and ably defended on the top by chevaux-de-frises of sword-blades, sharp as razors, chained to the ground; while the ascent to the top of the breach was covered with planks with sharp nails in them.... One of the officers of the forlorn hope, lieutenant Taggart of the 43rd, was hanging on my arm—a mode we adopted to help each other up, for the ascent was most difficult and steep. A Rifleman stood among the sword-blades on the top of one of the chevaux-de-frises. We made a glorious rush to follow, but, alas! in vain. He was knocked over. My old captain, O’Hare, who commanded the storming party, was killed. All were awfully wounded except, I do believe, myself and little Freer of the 43rd. I had been some seconds at the revétement of the bastion near the breach, and my red-coat pockets were literally filled with chips of stones splintered by musket-balls. Those not knocked down were driven back by this hail of mortality to the ladders. At the foot of them I saw poor Colonel McLeod with his hands on his breast.... He said, ‘Oh, Smith, I am mortally wounded. Help me up the ladder.’ I said, ‘Oh, no, dear fellow!’ ‘I am,’ he said; ‘be quick!’ I did so, and came back again. Little Freer and I said, ‘Let us throw down the ladders; the fellows shan’t go out.’ Some soldiers behind said, ‘… if you do we will bayonet you!’ and we were literally forced up with the crowd. My sash had got loose, and one end of it was fast in the ladder, and the bayonet was very nearly applied, but the sash by pulling became loose. So soon as we got on the glacis, up came a fresh Brigade of the Portuguese of the 4th Division. I never saw any soldiers behave with more pluck. Down into the ditch we all went again, but the more we tried to get up, the more we were destroyed. The 4th Division followed us in marching up to the breach, and they made a most uncommon noise. The French saw us, but took no notice.... Both Divisions were fairly beaten back; we never carried either breach (nominally there were two breaches).... There is no battle, day or night, I would not willingly react except this. The murder of our gallant officers and soldiers is not to be believed.”

The attack on the castle was no less furious. Again and again the ladders were hurled back, but they were always put in place again, notwithstanding the fearful and continuous fire to which the assailants were subjected. Great beams of timber, stones, everything calculated to kill or maim a man were regarded as useful weapons by the defenders. Nothing came amiss to them in their determined defence. Scores of soldiers were flung down, when another minute of safety would have enabled them to secure a footing on the ramparts. They fell in the ditch, often injuring or killing others besides themselves. At last Lieutenant-Colonel Ridge managed to place two ladders at a spot which had not been used before, and where the wall was lower. The officer scaled one, followed by his men, and reached the rampart. The surprised garrison was repulsed, and very soon the castle was in the hands of the British. Poor Ridge did not live to reap his richly-deserved reward. He was killed before the conclusion of the assault.

A little while previous to the successful termination of the attack Dr James McGregor and Dr Forbes approached Wellington. “His lordship,” says the former, “was so intent on what was going on, that I believe he did not observe us. Soon after our arrival, an officer came up with an unfavourable report of the assault, announcing that Colonel McLeod and several officers were killed, with heaps of men who choked the approach to the breach. At the place where we stood we were within hearing of the voices of the assailants and the assailed, and it was now painful to notice that the voices of our countrymen had grown fainter, while the French cry of ‘Avancez, étrillons ces Anglais,’ became stronger. Another officer came up with still more unfavourable reports, that no progress was being made, for almost all the officers were killed, and none left to lead on the men, of whom a great many had fallen.

“At this moment I cast my eyes on the countenance of Lord Wellington, lit up by the glare of the torch held by Lord March. I never shall forget it to the last moment of my existence, and I could even now sketch it. The jaw had fallen, the face was of unusual length, while the torch-light gave his countenance a lurid aspect; but still the expression of the face was fair. Suddenly turning to me and putting his hand on my arm, he said, ‘Go over immediately to Picton, and tell him he must try if he cannot succeed on the castle.’ I replied, ‘My lord, I have not my horse with me, but I will walk as fast as I can, and I think I can find the way; I know part of the road is swampy.’ ‘No, no,’ he replied, ‘I beg your pardon, I thought it was De Lancey.’ I repeated my offer, saying I was sure I could find the way, but he said ‘No.’

“Another officer arrived, asking loudly, ‘Where is Lord Wellington?’ He came to announce that Picton was in the castle. He was desired instantly to go to the breach, and to request the stormers to renew their efforts, announcing what had befallen; and immediately Lord Wellington called for his own horse, and followed by the Prince and Lord March, rode to the breach.”

General Walker, leading the assault on San Vincente, experienced much the same rough treatment as the other divisions, but eventually succeeded in forcing his way into the town.

Philippon and a few hundred men managed to cross the Guadiana and found refuge in Fort San Christoval, only to surrender the following morning. The price paid by the victors in dead and wounded during the siege was nearly 5000 men; those of the enemy who laid down their arms numbered some 3800. The glory of the triumphant army was unfortunately tarnished by the gross misconduct of the men, and it was not until a gallows was raised that a stop was put to their evil ways.

Wellington was now anxious to meet Soult as soon as Badajoz was put in a state of defence, but when he received the ill news of the defeat of the French garrison the Marshal promptly retired to Seville. As Marmont was threatening Almeida and Ciudad Rodrigo the British General had no alternative but to turn northward. He had to thank the Spaniards for this. By neglecting to provision the places they had practically placed them at the mercy of the enemy should he appear in considerable numbers. They were already blockading the latter place. “If Ciudad Rodrigo had been provisioned,” Wellington writes to his brother Henry, “as I had a right to expect, there was nothing to prevent me from marching to Seville at the head of 40,000 men, the moment the siege of Badajoz was concluded.” It was, of course, very important that the line of communication between Marmont and Soult should be impeded as much as possible, and Hill was given this important task. Failing to surprise Almarez, the General pushed on to Fort Napoleon, on the other side of the Tagus, which was captured as well as Fort Ragusa. False information alone prevented Hill from following up his victories. He was told that Soult was in Estremadura, and he withdrew to the Guadiana.