While this was passing on the right, a tremendous attack menaced the hill upon which our left was posted. Two powerful columns of French infantry, supported by some regiments of light cavalry, came steadily forward to the attack; Anson’s brigade were ordered to charge.
Away they went at top speed, but had not gone above a hundred yards when they were suddenly arrested by a deep chasm; here the German hussars pulled short up, but the Twenty-third dashing impetuously forward; a scene of terrific carnage ensued, men and horses rolling indiscriminately together under a withering fire from the French squares. Even here, however, British valor quailed not, for Major Francis Ponsonby, forming all who came up, rode boldly upon a brigade of French chasseurs in the rear. Victor, who from the first had watched the movement, at once despatched a lancer regiment against them, and then these brave fellows were absolutely cut to atoms, the few who escaped having passed through the French columns and reached Bassecour’s Spanish division on the far right.
During this time the hill was again assailed, and even more desperately than before; while Victor himself led on the fourth corps to an attack upon our right and centre.
The Guards waited without flinching the impetuous rush of the advancing columns, and when at length within a short distance, dashed forward with the bayonet, driving everything before them. The French fell back upon their sustaining masses, and rallying in an instant, again came forward, supported by a tremendous fire from their batteries. The Guards drew back, and the German Legion, suddenly thrown into confusion, began to retire in disorder. This was the most critical moment of the day, for although successful upon the extreme right and left of our line, our centre was absolutely broken. Just at this moment Gordon rode up to our brigade; his face was pale, and his look flurried and excited.
“The Forty-eighth are coming; here they are,—support them, Fourteenth.”
These few words were all he spoke; and the next moment the measured tread of a column was heard behind us. On they came like one man, their compact and dense formation looking like some massive wall; wheeling by companies, they suffered the Guards and Germans to retire behind them, and then, reforming into line, they rushed forward with the bayonet. Our artillery opened with a deafening thunder behind them, and then we were ordered to charge.
We came on at a trot; the Guards, who had now recovered their formation, cheered us as we proceeded. The smoke of the cannonade obscured everything until we had advanced some distance, but just as we emerged beyond the line of the gallant Forty-eighth, the splendid panorama of the battle-field broke suddenly upon us.
“Charge, forward!” cried the hoarse voice of our colonel; and we were upon them. The French infantry, already broken by the withering musketry of our people, gave way before us, and unable to form a square, retired fighting but in confusion, and with tremendous loss, to their position. One glorious cheer, from left to right of our line, proclaimed the victory, while a deafening discharge of artillery from the French replied to this defiance, and the battle was over. Had the Spanish army been capable of a forward movement, our successes at this moment would have been much more considerable; but they did not dare to change their position, and the repulse of our enemy was destined to be all our glory. The French, however, suffered much more severely than we did; and retiring during the night, fell back behind the Alberche, leaving us the victory and the battle-field.