State of the opposing armies previous to the battle of Salamanca—Preliminary movements—The Duke of Ragusa’s false movement—Pakenham engaged with the enemy’s left—Defeats the division under General ThomiÈres—Reinforced, they again advance to the attack—Their destruction by a brigade of British cavalry—The Portuguese repulsed—Desperate exertions of the French—Final charge of Clinton’s division—Complete defeat of the French army.

The situation and position of the hostile armies have been described in the last chapter; it left them on the banks of the Douro; and the probability, nay the certainty, that a collision was about to take place between them was manifest to the lowest soldier of both.

The passage of the line of the Douro in presence of an army in a condition for battle is difficult, and it requires much circumspection on the part of the General to hazard it in the face of an enemy. Yet Marmont managed to cross. He employed the days of the 13th, 14th, 15th, and 16th of July in a series of evolutions we had hitherto been unaccustomed to witness; and, in fine, on the morning of the 17th, after having made a night-march of thirteen Spanish leagues, his army was over the river, in battle array on the plain to the right of Nava del Rey, while the bulk of our army was in full movement upon Toro, distant several leagues from the 4th and Light Divisions and the two brigades of heavy horse. The village of Torrecilla de la Orden was in their front.

Marmont, finding how well the passage of the Douro had been masked by his night-march, and seeing the small number of troops that were at hand to oppose his movement, ordered his masses forward in the hope of crushing them. The 4th and Light Divisions, covered by Bock’s dragoons,^[28] retired upon the rising ground behind the villages. At this point various charges were made by the cavalry of both armies; and it was not until after a retreat of three hours, under a burning sun and a torrent of shot, that the two divisions reached the heights of the Guarena. The soldiers, famishing with thirst, their tongues cleaving to their mouths, and fainting with fatigue, rushed headlong towards the river; and before they had drank sufficiently to satisfy their burning thirst, the heights above them were crowned with forty pieces of cannon at half-range. Great was the confusion caused by the cannonade; and it was not without suffering some loss that they effected their retreat to the opposite bank. In less than an hour they joined the 1st and 3rd Divisions, and the entire continued the retrograde movement.

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The French then advanced in two columns of twenty-five thousand men each; the intervening space between them might be reckoned at two miles. The right wing was commanded by Clausel, the left by Marmont in person. Clausel had scarcely arrived before the point occupied by the 4th Division, when, seeing the smallness of their force, he conceived the idea of making a sudden rush, in the hope of cutting them off. His troops had scarcely formed when he pushed onward at the head of two divisions of infantry and the brigade of dragoons commanded by General CarriÉ; but Cole, placing himself at the head of the 27th and 40th Regiments, received him with steadiness, and drove the French infantry back in disorder. Meanwhile CarriÉ, seeing some open spaces in Cole’s line, caused by their movement against Clausel’s infantry, thought to profit by this disorder, and galloping forward at the head of his troopers, sabred many men; but at this moment the cavalry sent to sustain Cole met them, and after a severe but short conflict totally overthrew the brigade of CarriÉ, who was himself numbered amongst the prisoners.

The defeat of Clausel and CarriÉ checked in a great degree the ardour of the French Marshal. The following day he rested, and on the 19th threw back his right wing, and moving forward with the left of his army, menaced the right of the British; but Lord Wellington, anticipating the movement, was prepared for him, and offered battle on the plain of Velosa. This was refused on the part of the French General; and from this until the 20th, the two armies manoeuvred within half cannon-shot of each other, the British retiring as it had advanced—moving, not directly rearward, but rather in a line parallel with the march of the French. The columns were in movement in an open country, fairly in the view of each other, and their respective attitudes were of that novel sort that it would be difficult to find the like recorded in the history of any two armies. At times the French and British were within musket-shot of each other, the soldiers of both in momentary expectation of being engaged, yet not one shot was fired by either.

On the 20th, the British army reached the strong position of San Christoval, on the right bank of the Tormes, distant a league from Salamanca, the French General likewise resting for the night upon the heights of Aldea Rubea, holding the ford of Alba on the Tormes. Towards mid-day on the 21st the French passed the river in two compact bodies, and, screened by the woody nature of the country, established themselves upon a new line of operations, threatening, in a manner, the communication of the British with Rodrigo. This manoeuvre—a bold one it may well be called—under the cannon of an army that had proffered battle but a few days before on a plain of vast extent, was enough to puzzle a man less capable of command than he who was at the head of the allied army; but, unruffled in his temper by such vacillating conduct, and keeping a steady eye upon his opponent, the British General diligently followed his track. He passed his army, the 3rd Division under Pakenham excepted, across the Tormes, and taking hold of one of two isolated hills called Arapilles, he resolved to rest the right of his army upon this point while his left leaned upon the Tormes river at Santa Martha, and, in the event of a battle taking place, to stand the issue on the ground I have described. The 3rd Division still held the position of San Christoval on the right bank, but was in readiness to pass over the river by the bridge of Salamanca, in the event of a battle taking place. The British General thus threw down the gauntlet for the second time; and whether it was the impetuous spirit of the French soldiers, or the temper of their leader, or both combined, that wrought a change in either, it is not easy to say; but one thing is certain, that from this moment Marmont made up his mind to try the issue of a battle.

In front of the Arapilles hill, which was the point d’appui for our right, stood another, of the same name and greater altitude, distant five hundred yards from the one we possessed. This mound commanded the one occupied by us, and, after some severe contention, was finally held by the French; and it was evident from the earnest manner in which they sought to gain the possession of it, that it was destined to be the support of the left of their army, as the other was clearly marked out, by the previous events, to be intended for our right.

All doubts as to a battle not taking place were now hushed, and the soldiers of both armies were aware that the result was to decide to whom Madrid belonged. The die was cast; neither were inclined to back out of it, or to gainsay what they had in a manner pledged themselves to fulfil; and the evening of the 21st July 1812 closed upon the heads of many a soldier who was destined never to behold the setting of another sun. Nevertheless, the 3rd Division under Pakenham had not been recalled; on the contrary, we were busy in throwing up breastworks, and by other means adding to the strength of the position we occupied. Our division, though encamped on a height of considerable altitude, had received strict orders to entrench themselves; the earth was thrown up, the works were palisaded, and in fine they were so well secured that we had no fear of an attack or surprise. It is this precaution that marks the great general. Lord Wellington had no idea of being taken aback by any change in Marmont’s plans during the night: on the contrary, he was convinced that he was serious in his desire to give battle; but to guard against any and every chance was but right. Marmont might have again, on the night of the 21st, passed the river, and brought his army in battle array before a handful of men, and cut them off piecemeal before his movement could have been arrested by the British General. The thing was not probable—barely possible; but where possibilities, much less probabilities, exist, it is essential that the mind of the commander should be awake, and instead of brooding over what is likely to take place the following day, look to what may take place in the night. It was a remark of that eminent general, Kleber, that to be surprised was much more disgraceful than to be defeated: he said, “the bravest man may be beaten; but whoever suffers himself to be surprised is unworthy of being an officer.”

The evening of the 21st of July was calm, and appeared settled, but persons well versed in the symptoms of the horizon, which were unobserved by those intensely occupied with the anticipations of the events which the morrow was to produce, pronounced that a hurricane was not far distant. Pakenham’s division was occupied, as I have before said, in entrenching itself, when about ten at night a torrent of rain fell in the trenches, and so completely filled them with water that the soldiers were obliged to desist from their labour. Later in the night a storm arose, and the wind howled in long and bitter gusts. This was succeeded by peals of thunder and flashes of lightning, so loud and vivid that the horses of the cavalry, which were ready saddled, took alarm, and forcing the pickets which held them, ran away affrighted in every direction. The thunder rolled in rattling peals, the lightning darted through the black and almost suffocating atmosphere, and presented to the view of the soldiers of the two armies the horses as they ran about from regiment to regiment, or allowed themselves to be led back to their bivouac by the troopers to whom they belonged. The vivid flashes of lightning, which seemed to rest upon the grass, for a few moments wholly illuminated the plain, and the succeeding flashes occurred with such rapidity that a constant blaze filled the space occupied by both armies. It was long before the horses could be secured, and some in the confusion ran away amongst the enemy’s line and were lost. By midnight the storm began to abate, and towards morning it was evidently going farther: the lightning flashed at a distance through the horizon; the rain fell in torrents, and the soldiers of both armies were drenched to the skin before the hurricane had abated. Towards five o’clock the storm was partially over, and by six the dusky vapour which had before veiled the sun disappeared, and showed the two armies standing in the array they had been placed the evening before. All doubts were now set at rest as to which side of the river the battle would be fought. The entire army of Marmont remained on the left bank, and Pakenham was ordered to move across the Tormes with the 3rd Division, by the bridge of Salamanca, with as much speed as possible; but it was one o’clock before he reached the station allotted to him—the extreme right of the British.

At half-past one o’clock the two armies were within gunshot of each other. The British, placed as follows, awaited with calmness the orders of their General. We of the 3rd Division, under Pakenham, were on the right of the line, but hid by the heights in our front, and unseen by Marmont; two squadrons of the 14th Light Dragoons and a brigade of Portuguese horse, commanded by General D‘Urban, supported us. Next to the 3rd Division stood the 5th, led on by Leith; next to the 5th, and at the head of the village of Arapilles, were placed the 4th and 7th Divisions; beyond them, and a little in the rear, was the 6th Division, under General Clinton; and to the left of all was the Light Division, commanded by Colonel Barnard. The 1st Division, composed of the Guards and Germans, was in reserve; and the cavalry, under Sir Stapleton Cotton, was behind the 3rd and 5th Divisions, ready to act as circumstances might require. The guns attached to each brigade were up with the infantry; the park in reserve was behind the cavalry of Cotton, while in the rear of all, and nearly hors de combat, might be seen the Spanish army, commanded by Don Carlos D‘EspaÑa. Thus stood affairs, on the side of the British, at half-past one o’clock.

The French army, composed of eight divisions of infantry, amounting to forty-two thousand bayonets, four thousand cavalry, and seventy pieces of artillery, occupied a fine line of battle behind a ridge whose right, supported by the Arapilles height held by them, overlooked the one upon which the left of our army rested. Their 5th Division occupied this point; the 122nd Regiment, belonging to Bonnet’s division, with a brigade of guns, crowned the Arapilles; the 7th Division supported the 122nd Regiment; the 2nd Division was in reserve behind the 7th; the 6th were at the head of the wood, protected by twenty pieces of artillery; and Boyer’s dragoons occupied the open space in front of the wood to the left of all.

There was some irregularity in the arrangement of these troops, and the Duke of Ragusa essayed in person to remedy the evil. He marched with the 3rd and 4th Divisions to the head of the wood occupied by Boyer, and it was then he conceived the idea of extending his left, which afterwards proved so fatal to him. On our side all was arranged for defence; the bustle which was evident in the ranks of the enemy caused no change in our dispositions. Lord Wellington, having surveyed what was passing, and judging that something was meant by it, gave his glass to one of his aide-de-camps, while he himself sat down to eat a few mouthfuls of cold beef. He had scarcely commenced when his aide-de-camp said, “The enemy are in motion, my lord!”—“Very well; observe what they are doing,” was the reply. A minute or so elapsed, when the aide-de-camp said, “I think they are extending to their left.”—“The devil they are!” said his lordship, springing upon his feet,—“give me the glass quickly.” He took it, and for a short space continued observing the motions of the enemy with earnest attention. “Come!” he exclaimed, “I think this will do at last; ride off instantly, and tell Clinton and Leith to return as rapidly as possible to their former ground.”

In a moment afterwards Lord Wellington was on horseback, and all his staff in motion. The soldiers stood to their arms—the colours were uncased—bayonets fixed—the order to prime and load passed, and in five minutes after the false movement of Marmont was discovered, our army, which so short a time before stood on the defensive, was arrayed for the attack! It was twenty minutes past four when these dispositions were completed; and here it may not be amiss to tell the reader the nature of the movement made by the French General, which so materially altered his position, as likewise that of his antagonist—and in doing so I shall be as brief as I can.

It has been already seen that both armies were so circumstanced as to almost preclude the possibility of a battle not taking place. Marmont coveted it—Wellington did not seek to decline it—both had the confidence of their soldiers—and both, as to numbers, might be said to be on an equality. When I speak of “numbers” I include the Portuguese troops. Military men know what was the real value of these soldiers! At two o’clock in the afternoon Marmont was the aggressor; he held the higher hand; yet at four, in two short hours afterwards, the relative situation of both was altogether changed. The natural question will be—How was this? It occurred just as I am about to describe.

The two armies took their ground under the impression that the French would attack, the British defend. All this was plain; but Marmont had no sooner mounted his horse and taken a survey of the field of battle than he conceived the idea—like Melas at Marengo—of extending his line; by marching his 7th Division to his left he might cause an alarm in the breast of the British General for the safety of his communication with the Rodrigo road, and in a manner circumvent his position. Lord Wellington, at a glance, saw all that was passing in the mind of his antagonist—he saw the error he had committed; and calculating that his 3rd Division (distant but three-quarters of a league from the French 4th) would reach them before the 7th French Division could retrace their steps and be in a position fitted for fighting, he decided upon attacking the left, before this division, commanded by ThomiÈres, could regain its ground, or at all events be in an efficient state to resist the attack of his invincible Old Third. The result proved the soundness of the calculation, because, although ThomiÈres got into his place in the fight, he did so before his men had foreseen or expected it, and their total overthrow was in itself sufficient to cause the loss of this great battle.

The 3rd Division had but just resumed their arms when Lord Wellington, at the head of his staff, appeared amongst them. The officers had not taken their places in the column, but were in a group together in front of it. As Lord Wellington rode up to Pakenham every eye was turned towards him. He looked paler than usual, but notwithstanding the sudden change he had just made in the disposition of his army, he was quite unruffled in his manner, and as calm as if the battle about to be fought was nothing more than an ordinary assemblage of the troops for a field-day. His words were few and his orders brief. Tapping Pakenham on the shoulder, he said, “Edward, move on with the 3rd Division—take the heights in your front—and drive everything before you,”—“I will, my lord,” was the laconic reply of the gallant Sir Edward.^[29] Lord Wellington galloped on to the next division, gave, I suppose, orders to the same effect, and in less than half an hour the battle commenced.

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The British divisions were scarcely in line when fifty pieces of artillery crowned the ridge occupied by the French. A heavy fire was soon opened from this park at half range, and as the 4th and 5th Divisions advanced they were assailed by a very formidable fire; but as yet the French infantry, posted behind the ridge, were not visible. Cole’s troops advanced to the left of the Arapilles height, while Pack, with his brigade of Portuguese, two thousand strong, pressed onward to attain it. The 5th Division, under Leith, advanced by the right of Cole’s troops; and at this moment the French 7th Division were seen hurrying back to occupy the ground they had so short a time before quitted, while the 3rd and 4th French Divisions were arranging themselves to receive the attack of Cole and Leith.

When all was in readiness Pakenham departed at the head of ten battalions^[30] and two brigades of guns, to force the left of the enemy. Three battalions, the 45th, 74th, and 88th, under Colonel Alexander Wallace of the 88th, composed the first line; the 9th and 21st Portuguese of the line, under the Portuguese colonel, De Champlemond, formed the second line; while two battalions of the 5th, the 77th, 83rd, and 94th British, under the command of Colonel Campbell, were in reserve. Such was the disposition of the 3rd Division. In addition, General D‘Urban, with six Portuguese squadrons, had orders to make head against Boyer’s dragoons; and that the 3rd Division might not be molested in its operation, Le Marchant’s three regiments of heavy cavalry were placed in reserve in the rear of it. It now only remains to relate what actually happened.

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No sooner was Pakenham in motion towards the heights than the ridge he was about to assail was crowned with twenty pieces of cannon, while in the rear of this battery was seen ThomiÈres' division endeavouring to regain its place in the combat. A flat space, one thousand yards in breadth, was to be crossed before Pakenham could reach the heights. The French batteries opened a heavy fire, while our two brigades of artillery, commanded by Captain Douglas, posted on a rising ground behind the 3rd Division, replied to them with much warmth. Pakenham’s men might thus be said to be within two fires—that of their own guns firing over their heads, while the French balls passed through their ranks, ploughing up the ground in every direction; but the veteran troops which composed the 3rd Division were not to be shaken even by this.

Wallace’s three regiments advanced in open column until within two hundred and fifty yards of the ridge held by the French infantry. ThomiÈres' column, five thousand strong, had by this time reached their ground, while in their front the face of the hill had been hastily garnished with tirailleurs. All were impatient to engage, and the calm but stern advance of Wallace’s brigade was received with beating of drums and loud cheers from the French, whose light troops, hoping to take advantage of the time which the deploying from column into line would take, ran down the face of the hill in a state of great excitement; but Pakenham, who was naturally of a boiling spirit and hasty temper, was on this day perfectly cool. He told Wallace to form line from open column without halting, and thus the different companies, by throwing forward their right shoulders, were in line without the slow manoeuvre of a deployment. Astonished at the rapidity of the movement, the French riflemen commenced an irregular and hurried fire, and even at this early stage of the battle a looker-on could, from the difference in the demeanour of the troops of the two nations, form a tolerably correct opinion of what would be the result.

Regardless of the fire of the tirailleurs, and the showers of grape and canister, Pakenham, at the head of Wallace’s brigade, continued to press onward; his centre suffered, but still advanced; his left and right being less oppressed by the weight of the fire, continued to advance at a more rapid pace, and as his wings inclined forward and outstripped the centre, the brigade assumed the form of a crescent. The manoeuvre was a bold, as well as a novel one, and the appearance of the brigade imposing and unique, because it so happened that all the British officers were in front of their men—a rare occurrence. The French officers were also in front; but their relative duties were widely different: the latter, encouraging their men into the heat of the battle; the former keeping their devoted soldiers back!—what a splendid national contrast! Amongst the mounted officers were Sir Edward Pakenham and his staff, Wallace of the 88th, commanding the brigade, and his gallant aide-de-camp, Mackie (at last a Captain—in his regular turn!), Majors Murphy and Seton of the 88th, Colonels Forbes and Greenwell of the 45th, Colonel Trench of the 74th, and several others whose names I cannot now remember.

In spite of the fire of ThomiÈres' tirailleurs, they continued at the head of the right brigade, while the soldiers, with their firelocks on the rest, followed close upon the heels of their officers, like troops accustomed to conquer. They speedily got footing upon the brow of the hill, but before they had time to take breath, the entire French division, with drums beating and uttering loud shouts, ran forward to meet them, and belching forth a torrent of bullets from five thousand muskets, brought down almost the entire of Wallace’s first rank, and more than half of his officers. The brigade staggered back from the force of the shock, but before the smoke had altogether cleared away, Wallace, looking full in the faces of his soldiers, pointed to the French column, and leading the shattered brigade up the hill, without a moment’s hesitation, brought them face to face before the French had time to witness the terrible effect of their murderous fire.

Astounded by the unshaken determination of Wallace’s soldiers, ThomiÈres' division wavered; nevertheless they opened a heavy discharge of musketry, but it was unlike the former,—it was irregular and ill-directed, the men acted without concert or method, and many fired in the air. At length their fire ceased altogether, and the three regiments, for the first time, cheered! The effect was electric; ThomiÈres' troops were seized with a panic, and as Wallace closed upon them, his men could distinctly remark their bearing. Their mustachioed faces, one and all, presented the same ghastly hue, a horrid family likeness throughout; and as they stood to receive the shock they were about to be assailed with, they reeled to and fro like men intoxicated.

The French officers did all that was possible, by voice, gesture, and example, to rouse their men to a proper sense of their situation, but in vain. One, the colonel of the leading regiment (the 22nd), seizing a firelock, and beckoning to his men to follow, ran forward a few paces and shot Major Murphy dead in front of the 88th. However, his career soon closed: a bullet, the first that had been fired from our ranks, pierced his head; he flung up his arms, fell forward, and expired.

The brigade, which till this time cheerfully bore up against the heavy fire they had been exposed to without returning a shot, were now impatient, and the 88th greatly excited; for Murphy, dead and bleeding, with one foot hanging in the stirrup-iron, was dragged by his affrighted horse along the front of his regiment. The soldiers became exasperated, and asked to be let forward. Pakenham, seeing that the proper moment had arrived, called out to Wallace “to let them loose.” The three regiments ran onward, and the mighty phalanx, which but a moment before was so formidable, loosened and fell in pieces before fifteen hundred invincible British soldiers fighting in a line of only two deep.

Wallace, seeing the terrible confusion that prevailed in the enemy’s column, pressed on with his brigade, calling to his soldiers “to push on to the muzzle.” A vast number were killed in this charge of bayonets, but the men, wearied by their exertions, the intolerable heat of the weather, and famishing from thirst, were nearly run to a standstill.

Immediately on our left, the 5th Division were discharging volleys against the French 4th; and Park’s brigade could be seen mounting the Arapilles height. But disregarding everything except the complete destruction of the column before him, Pakenham followed it with the brigade of Wallace, supported by the reserves of his division. The battle at this point would have been decided on the moment, had the heavy horse, under Le Marchant, been near enough to sustain him. The confusion of the enemy was so great, that they were mixed pell-mell together without any regard to order or regularity; and it was manifest that nothing short of a miracle could save ThomiÈres from total destruction. Sir Edward continued to press on at the head of Wallace’s brigade, but the French outran him. Had Le Marchant been aware of this state of the combat, or been near enough to profit by it, Pakenham would have settled the business by six o’clock instead of seven. An hour at any time, during a battle, is a serious lapse of time; but in this action every minute was of vital import. Day was rapidly drawing to a close; the Tormes was close behind the army of Marmont; ruin stared him in the face; in a word, his left wing was doubled up—lost; and Pakenham could have turned to the support of the 4th and 5th Divisions had our cavalry been on the spot ready to back Wallace at the moment he broke ThomiÈres' column. This, beyond doubt, was the moment by which to profit, that the enemy might not have time to recollect himself; but while Le Marchant was preparing to take a part in the combat, ThomiÈres, with admirable presence of mind, remedied the terrible confusion of his division, and calling up a fresh brigade to his support, once more led his men into the fight, assumed the offensive,^[31] and Pakenham was now about to be assailed in turn. This was the most critical moment of the battle at this point. Boyer’s horsemen stood before us, inclining towards our right, which was flanked by two squadrons of the 14th Dragoons and two regiments of Portuguese cavalry; but we had little dependence on the Portuguese, and it behoved us to look to ourselves.

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Led on by the ardour of conquest, we had followed the column until we at length found ourselves in an open plain, intersected with cork-trees, opposed by a multitude who, reinforced, again rallied and turned upon us with fury. Pakenham and Wallace rode along the line from wing to wing, almost from rank to rank, and fulfilled the functions of adjutants, in assisting the officers to reorganise the tellings-off of their men for square. Meanwhile the first battalion of the 5th drove back some squadrons of Boyer’s dragoons; the other six regiments were fast approaching the point held by Wallace, but the attitude of the French cavalry in our front and upon our right flank caused some uneasiness.

The peals of musketry along the centre still continued without intermission; the smoke was so thick that nothing to our left was distinguishable; some men of the 5th Division got intermingled with ours; the dry grass was set on fire by the numerous cartridge-papers that strewed the field of battle; the air was scorching; and the smoke, rolling onward in huge volumes, nearly suffocated us. A loud cheering was heard in our rear; the brigade half turned round, supposing themselves about to be attacked by the French cavalry. Wallace called out to his men to mind the tellings-off for square. A few seconds passed, the trampling of horses was heard, the smoke cleared away, and the heavy brigade of Le Marchant^[32] was seen coming forward in line at a canter. “Open right and left” was an order quickly obeyed; the line opened, the cavalry passed through the intervals, and, forming rapidly in our front, prepared for their work.

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The French column, which a moment before held so imposing an attitude, became startled at this unexpected sight. A victorious and highly-excited infantry pressing close upon them, a splendid brigade of three regiments of cavalry ready to burst through their ill-arranged and beaten column, while no appearance of succour was at hand to protect them, was enough to appal the boldest intrepidity. The plain was filled with the vast multitude; retreat was impossible; and the troopers came still pouring in to join their comrades, already prepared for the attack. Hastily, yet with much regularity, all things considered, they attempted to get into square; but Le Marchant’s brigade galloped forward before the evolution was half completed. The column hesitated, wavered, tottered, and then stood still! The motion of the countless bayonets as they clashed together might be likened to a forest about to be assailed by a tempest, whose first warnings announce the ravage it is about to inflict. ThomiÈres' division^[33] vomited forth a dreadful volley of fire as the horsemen thundered across the flat! Le Marchant was killed, and fell downright in the midst of the French bayonets; but his brigade pierced through the vast mass, killing or trampling down all before them. The conflict was severe, and the troopers fell thick and fast; but their long heavy swords cut through bone as well as flesh. The groans of the dying, the cries of the wounded, the roar of the cannon, and the piteous moans of the mangled horses, as they ran away affrighted from the terrible scene, or lay with shattered limbs, unable to move, in the midst of the burning grass, was enough to unman men not placed as we were; but upon us it had a different effect, and our cheers were heard far from the spot where this fearful scene was acting.

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Such as got away from the sabres of the horsemen sought safety amongst the ranks of our infantry, and scrambling under the horses, ran to us for protection—like men who, having escaped the first shock of a wreck, will cling to any broken spar, no matter how little to be depended upon. Hundreds of beings, frightfully disfigured, in whom the human face and form were almost obliterated—black with dust, worn down with fatigue, and covered with sabre-cuts and blood—threw themselves amongst us for safety. Not a man was bayoneted—not one even molested or plundered; and the invincible old 3rd Division on this day surpassed themselves, for they not only defeated their terrible enemies in a fair stand-up fight, but actually covered their retreat, and protected them at a moment when, without such aid, their total annihilation was certain. Under similar circumstances would the French have acted so? I fear not. The men who murdered Ponsonby at Waterloo, when he was alone and unprotected, would have shown but little courtesy to the 3rd Division, placed in a similar way.

Nine pieces of artillery, two eagles, and five thousand prisoners were captured at this point; still the battle raged with unabated fury on our left, immediately in front of the 5th Division. Leith fell wounded as he led on his men, but his division carried the point in dispute, and drove the enemy before them up the hill.

While those events were taking place on the right, the 4th Division, which formed the centre of the army, met with a serious opposition. The more distant Arapilles, occupied by the French 122nd, whose numbers did not count more than four hundred,^[34] supported by a few pieces of cannon, was left to the Portuguese brigade of General Pack, amounting to two thousand bayonets. With fatal, though well-founded reliance—their former, conduct taken into the scale—Cole’s division advanced into the plain, confident that all was right with Pack’s troops, and a terrible struggle between them and Bonnet’s corps took place. It was, however, but of short duration. Bonnet’s soldiers were driven back in confusion, and up to this moment all had gone on well. The three British divisions engaged overthrew every obstacle, and the battle might be said to be won, had Pack’s formidable brigade—formidable in numbers at least—fulfilled their part; but these men totally failed in their effort to take the height occupied only by a few hundred Frenchmen, and thus gave the park of artillery that was posted with them full liberty to turn its efforts against the rear and flank of Cole’s soldiers. Nothing could be worse than the state in which the 4th Division was now placed; and the battle, which ought to have been, and had been in a manner, won, was still in doubt.

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Bonnet, seeing the turn which Pack’s failure had wrought in his favour, re-formed his men, and advanced against Cole, while the fire from the battery and small arms on the Arapilles height completed the confusion. Cole fell wounded; half of his division were cut off, the remainder in full retreat; and Bonnet’s troops, pressing on in a compact body, made it manifest that a material change had taken place in the battle, and that ere it was gained some ugly uphill work was yet to be done.

Marshal Beresford, who arrived at the moment, galloped up at the head of a brigade of the 5th Division, which he took out of the second line, and for a moment covered the retreat of Cole’s troops; but this force—composed of Portuguese—was insufficient to arrest the progress of the enemy, who advanced in the full confidence of an assured victory; and at this critical moment Beresford was carried off the field wounded. Bonnet’s troops advanced, loudly cheering, while the entire of Cole’s division and Spry’s brigade of Portuguese were routed. Our centre was thus endangered. Boyer’s dragoons, after the overthrow of the French left, countermarched and moved rapidly to the support of Bonnet; they were close in the track of his infantry; and the fate of the battle was still uncertain. The fugitives of the 7th and 4th French Divisions ran to the succour of Bonnet, and by the time they had joined him his force had indeed assumed a formidable aspect; and thus reinforced, it stood in an attitude far different from what it would have done had Pack’s brigade succeeded in its attack.

Lord Wellington, who saw what had taken place by the failure of Pack’s troops, ordered up the 6th Division to the support of the 4th; and the battle, although it was half-past eight o’clock at night, recommenced with the same fury as at the onset.

Clinton’s division, consisting of six thousand bayonets, rapidly advanced to assert its place in the combat, and to relieve the 4th from the awkward predicament in which it was placed; they essayed to gain what was lost by the failure of Pack’s troops in their feeble effort to wrest the Arapilles height from a few brave Frenchmen; but they were received by Bonnet’s troops at the point of the bayonet, and the fire opened against them seemed to be threefold more heavy than that sustained by the 3rd and 5th Divisions. It was nearly dark; and the great glare of light caused by the thunder of the artillery, the continued blaze of the musketry, and the burning grass, gave to the face of the hill a novel and terrific appearance: it was one vast sheet of flame, and Clinton’s men looked as if they were attacking a burning mountain, the crater of which was defended by a barrier of shining steel. But nothing could stop the intrepid valour of the 6th Division, as they advanced with a desperate resolution to carry the hill. The troops posted on the face of it to arrest their advance were trampled down and destroyed at the first charge, and each reserve sent forward to extricate them met with the same fate. Still Bonnet’s reserves, having attained their place in the fight, and the fugitives from ThomiÈres' division joining them at the moment, prolonged the battle until dark. Those men, besmeared with blood, dust, and clay, half naked, and some carrying only broken weapons, fought with a fury not to be surpassed; but their impetuosity was at length calmed by the bayonets of Clinton’s troops, and they no longer fought for victory but for safety. After a frightful struggle, they were driven from their last hold in confusion; and a general and overwhelming charge, which the nature of the ground enabled Clinton to make, carried this ill-formed mass of desperate soldiers before him, as a shattered wreck borne along by the force of some mighty current.

The mingled mass of fugitives fled to the woods and to the river for safety, and under cover of the night succeeded in gaining the pass of Alba over the Tormes. It was now ten o’clock at night: the battle was ended. At this point it had been confined to a small space, and the ground, trampled and stained deep, gave ample evidence of the havoc that had taken place. Lord Wellington, overcome as he was with fatigue, placed himself at the head of the 1st and Light Divisions and a brigade of cavalry, and following closely the retreating footsteps of the enemy, with those troops who had not fired a shot during the conflict, left the remnant of his victorious army to sleep upon the field of battle they had so hardly won.^[35]

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