“He himself had been repulsed by a far inferior British force at Coruña; had been driven from Oporto, and defeated in the bloody field of Albuera. He was addressing men who had been beaten at Vimiera, beaten at Talavera, beaten at Busaco, beaten at Fuentes d’Onoro, routed at Salamanca, and scattered like sheep at Vitoria. They had been driven from Lisbon into France; and yet the general who had so often been baffled addressed this language to the very troops who had been so often and so signally defeated!”—Southey.

[234] In fact, the picket was surprised—the advanced videts upon a height in its front having been overpowered by the heat, had fallen asleep, and thus allowed the French to approach the picket without giving an alarm.

[235] “The French gained ground until six o’clock, for the British, shrunk in numbers, also wanted ammunition, and a part of the 82nd, under Major Fitzgerald, were forced to roll down stones to defend the rocks on which they were posted. In this desperate condition Stewart was upon the point of abandoning the mountain entirely, when a brigade of the 7th division, commanded by General Barnes, arrived from Echallar, and that officer, charging at the head of the sixth regiment, drove the French back to the Maya ridge.”—Napier.

[236] Riding at full speed, he reached the village of Sorauren, and his eagle-glance detected Clausel’s column in march along the ridge of Zabaldica. Convinced that the troops in the valley of the Lanz must be intercepted by this movement, he sprang from his saddle, and pencilled a note on the parapet of the bridge, directing the troops to take the road to Oricain, and gain the rear of Cole’s position. The scene that followed was highly interesting. “Lord Fitzroy Somerset, the only staff-officer who had kept up with him, galloped with these orders out of Sorauren by one road, the French light cavalry dashed in by another, and the English general rode alone up the mountain to reach his troops. One of Campbell’s Portuguese battalions first descried him, and raised a cry of joy, and the shrill clamour caught up by the next regiments swelled as it run along the line into that stern and appalling shout which the British soldier is wont to give upon the edge of battle, and which no enemy ever heard unmoved. Lord Wellington suddenly stopped in a conspicuous place; he desired that both armies should know he was there; and a double spy who was present pointed out Soult, then so near that his features could be plainly distinguished. The English general, it is said, fixed his eyes attentively upon this formidable man, and speaking as if to himself, said, ‘Yonder is a great commander, but he is a cautious one, and will delay his attack to ascertain the cause of these cheers; that will give time for the 6th division to arrive, and I shall beat him.’ And certain it is that the French general made no serious attack that day.”—Napier.

Twelve British regiments were embattled on the Pyrenees who had fought at Talavera; and there were present not a few who might recall an incident to memory, that would present a striking but amusing contrast Cuesta, examining his battle-ground four years before in lumbering state, seated in an unwieldly coach, and drawn by eight pampered mules; Wellington, on an English hunter, dashing from post to post at headlong speed, and at a pace that distanced the best mounted of his staff.

[237] “On the 31st of July, Soult continued retreating, while five British divisions pressed the pursuit vigorously by Roncesvalles, Mayo, and Donna Maria. Nothing could equal the distress of the enemy,—they were completely worn down; and, fatigued and disheartened as they were, the only wonder is, that multitudes did not perish in the wild and rugged passes through which they were obliged to retire. Although rather in the rear of some of the columns, the British light brigades were ordered forward to overtake the enemy; and, wherever they came up, bring them to immediate action. At midnight the bivouacs were abandoned,—the division marched,—and, after nineteen hours’ continued exertions, during which time a distance of nearly forty miles was traversed, over Alpine heights and roads rugged and difficult beyond description, the enemy were overtaken and attacked. A short, but smart affair, ensued. To extricate the tail of the column, and enable the wounded to get away, the French threw a portion of their rear-guard across the river. The rifles instantly attacked the reinforcement,—a general fusilade commenced, and continued until night put an end to the affair, when the enemy retreated over the bridge of Yanzi, and the British pickets took possession of it. Both sides lost many men, and a large portion of French baggage fell into the hands of the pursuing force, who had moved by St. Estevan.

“That night the British light troops lay upon the ground; and next morning moved forward at daybreak. Debouching through the pass at Vera, the hill of Santa Barbara was crossed by the second brigade, while the rifles carried the heights of Echalar, which the French voltigeurs seemed determined to maintain. As the mountain was obscured by a thick fog, the firing had a strange appearance to those who witnessed it from the valley, occasional flashes only being seen, while every shot was repeated by a hundred echoes. At twilight the enemy’s light infantry were driven in; but long after darkness fell, the report of musketry continued; until, after a few spattering shots, a death-like silence succeeded, and told that the last of the enemy had followed their companions, and abandoned the heights to their assailants.”—The Bivouac.

[238] “The enemy had no success on any other ground, and were terribly beat after I joined the troops at Sorauren. Their loss cannot be less than 15,000 men, and I am not certain that it is not 20,000 men. We have about 4,000 prisoners. I never saw such fighting as on the 27th and 28th of July, the anniversary of the battle of Talavera, nor such determination as the troops showed.

* * * * *

“I never saw such fighting as we have had here. It began on the 25th, and, excepting the 29th, when not a shot was fired, we had it every day till the 2nd. The battle of the 28th was fair bludgeon work. The 4th division was principally engaged; and the loss of the enemy was immense. Our loss has likewise been very severe, but not of a nature to cripple us.”—Letter to Lord William Bentinck, Lisaca, 5th August, 1813.