While discord prevailed at Cadiz, the siege of Badajos continued. Early in March, the second parallel being completed and the Pardaleras taken into the works, the approaches were carried by sap to the covered way, and mines were prepared to blow in the counterscarp. Nevertheless, Rafael Menacho, the governor, was in no manner dismayed; his sallies were frequent and vigorous, his activity and courage inspired his troops with confidence, he had begun to retrench in the streets behind the part attacked, and as the fire of the besiegers was also inferior to that of the besieged, every thing seemed to promise favourably for the latter: but, on the evening of the 2d, during a sally, in which the nearest French batteries were carried, the guns spiked, and trenches partly ruined, Menacho was killed, and the command fell to Imas, a man so unworthy that a worse could not be found. At once the spirit of the garrison died away, the besiegers’ works advanced rapidly, the ditch was passed, a lodgement was made on one of the ravelins, the rampart was breached, and the fire of the besieged being nearly extinguished, on the 10th of March the place was summoned in a peremptory manner. [Sidenote: Lord Wellington’s Despatch.] At this time the great crisis of the campaign had passed, and a strong body of British and Portuguese troops were ready to raise the siege of Badajos. In three different ways, by telegraph, by a letter, and by a confidential messenger, the governor was informed, that Massena was in full retreat and that the relieving army was actually in march. The breach was still impracticable, provisions were plentiful, the garrison above eight thousand strong, the French army reduced, by sickness, by detachments and the previous operations, to less than fourteen thousand men. Imas read the letter, and instantly surrendered, handing over at the same moment the intelligence thus obtained to the enemy. But he also demanded that his grenadiers should march out of the breach, it was granted, and he was obliged to enlarge the opening himself ere they could do so! Yet this man so covered with opprobrium, and who had secured his own liberty while consigning his fellow soldiers to a prison, and his character to infamy, was never punished by the Spanish rulers: lord Wellington’s indignant remonstrances forced them, indeed, to bring him to trial, but they made the process last during the whole war.