From nine o’clock in the morning until mid-day the field of battle offered no appearance of hostility; the weather was intensely hot, and the troops, on both sides, descended and mingled, without fear or suspicion, to quench their thirst at the little brook which divided the positions; but, at one o’clock in the afternoon, the French soldiers were seen to gather round their eagles, and the rolling of drums was heard along the whole line. Half an hour later, the king’s guards, the reserve, and the fourth corps were descried, near the centre of the enemy’s position, marching to join the first corps; and, at two o’clock, the table-land and the height on the French right, even to the valley, were covered with the dark and lowering masses. At this moment some hundreds of English soldiers, employed to carry the wounded to the rear, returned in one body, and were, by the French, supposed to be sir Robert Wilson’s corps joining the army; nevertheless, the duke of Belluno, whose arrangements were now completed, gave the signal for battle: and eighty pieces of artillery immediately sent a tempest of bullets before the light troops, who, coming on swiftly and with the violence of a hail-storm, were closely followed by the broad, black columns, in all the majesty of war.
Sir Arthur Wellesley, from the summit of the hill, had a clear view of the whole field of battle; and first he saw the fourth corps rush forwards, with the usual impetuosity of French soldiers, and clearing the intersected ground in their front, fall upon Campbell’s division with infinite fury; but that general, assisted by Mackenzie’s brigade, and by two Spanish battalions, withstood their utmost efforts. The English regiments, putting the French skirmishers aside, met the advancing columns with loud shouts, and, breaking in on their front, and lapping their flanks with fire, and giving no respite, pushed them back with a terrible carnage. Ten guns were taken; but, as general Campbell prudently forbore pursuit, the French rallied on their supports, and made a show of attacking again: vain attempt! The British artillery and musketry played too vehemently upon their masses, and a Spanish regiment of cavalry charging on their flank at the same time, the whole retired in disorder, and the victory was secured in that quarter.
But, while this was passing on the right, Villatte’s division, preceded by the grenadiers, and supported by two regiments of light cavalry, was seen advancing up the great valley against the left, and, beyond Villatte’s, Ruffin was discovered marching towards the mountain. Sir Arthur Wellesley immediately ordered Anson’s brigade of cavalry, composed of the twenty-third light dragoons and the first German hussars, to charge the head of these columns; and this brigade, coming on at a canter, and increasing its speed as it advanced, rode headlong against the enemy, but, in a few moments, came upon the brink of a hollow cleft, which was not perceptible at a distance. The French, throwing themselves into squares, opened their fire; and colonel Arenstchild, commanding the hussars, an officer whom forty years’ experience had made a master in his art, promptly reined up at the brink, exclaiming, in his broken phrase, “I will not kill my young mens!”
The English blood was hotter! The twenty-third, under colonel Seymour, rode wildly down into the hollow, and men and horses fell over each other in dreadful confusion. The survivors, still untamed, mounted the opposite bank by two’s and three’s; Seymour was wounded; but major Frederick Ponsonby, a hardy soldier, rallying all who came up, passed through the midst of Villatte’s columns, and, reckless of the musketry, from each side, fell, with inexpressible violence, upon a brigade of French chasseurs in the rear. The combat was fierce but short; Victor had perceived the first advance of the English, and detached his Polish lancers, and Westphalian light-horse, to the support of Villatte; and these fresh troops coming up when the twenty-third, already overmatched, could scarcely hold up against the chasseurs, entirely broke them. Those who were not killed or taken made for Bassecour’s Spanish division, and so escaped, leaving behind two hundred and seven men and officers, or about half the number that went into action.
During this time the hill, the key of the position, was again attacked, and Lapisse, crossing the ravine, pressed hard upon the English centre; his own artillery, aided by the great battery on his right, opened large gaps in Sherbrooke’s ranks, and the French columns came close up to the British line in the resolution to win; but they were received with a general discharge of all arms, and so vigorously encountered, that they gave back in disorder; and, in the excitement of the moment, the brigade of English guards, quitting the line, followed up their success with inconsiderate ardour. The enemy’s supporting columns and dragoons advanced, the men who had been repulsed turned again, and the French batteries pounded the flank and front of the guards.
Thus maltreated, the latter drew back, and, at the same moment, the German legion, being sorely pressed, got into confusion. Hill’s and Campbell’s divisions, on the extremities of the line, still held fast; but the centre of the British was absolutely broken, and the fate of the day seemed to incline in favour of the French, when, suddenly, colonel Donellan, with the forty-eighth regiment, was seen advancing through the midst of the disordered masses. At first, it seemed as if this regiment must be carried away by the retiring crowds, but, wheeling back by companies, it let them pass through the intervals, and then, resuming its proud and beautiful line, marched against the right of the pursuing columns, and plied them with such a destructive musketry, and closed upon them with such a firm and regular pace, that the forward movement of the French was checked. The guards and the Germans immediately rallied; a brigade of light cavalry came up from the second line at a trot; the artillery battered the enemy’s flanks without intermission, and the French, beginning to waver, soon lost their advantage, and the battle was restored.
In all actions there is one critical and decisive moment which will give the victory to the general who knows how to seize it. When the guards first made their rash charge, sir Arthur Wellesley, foreseeing the issue of it, had ordered the forty-eighth down from the hill, although a rough battle was going on there; and, at the same time, he directed Cotton’s light cavalry to advance. These dispositions gained the day. The French relaxed their efforts by degrees; the fire of the English grew hotter; and their loud and confident shouts—sure augury of success—were heard along the whole line.
In the hands of a great general, Joseph’s guards and the reserve, which were yet entire, might have restored the combat: but all combination was at an end on the French side. The fourth corps, beaten back on the left with the loss of ten guns, was in confusion; the troops in the great valley on the right, amazed at the furious charge of the twenty-third, and awed by the sight of four distinct lines of cavalry, still in reserve, remained stationary. No impression had been made on the hill; Lapisse himself was mortally wounded, and, at last, his division giving way, the whole army retired to its position, from whence it had descended to the attack. This retrograde movement was covered by skirmishers and an increasing fire of artillery; and the British, reduced to less than fourteen thousand sabres and bayonets, and exhausted by toil, and the want of food, could not pursue. The Spanish army was incapable of any evolution, and about six o’clock all hostility ceased, each army holding the position of the morning. But the battle was scarcely over when, the dry grass and shrubs taking fire, a volume of flames passed with inconceivable rapidity across a part of the field, scorching, in its course, both the dead and the wounded.
On the British side two generals (Mackenzie and Langworth), thirty-one officers of inferior rank, and seven hundred and sixty-seven serjeants and soldiers were killed upon the spot; and three generals, a hundred and ninety-two officers, three thousand seven hundred and eighteen serjeants and privates wounded. Nine officers, six hundred and forty-three serjeants and soldiers were missing; thus making a total loss of six thousand two hundred and sixty-eight, in the two days’ fighting, of which five thousand four hundred and twenty-two fell on the 28th.