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English troops burst upon them with the bayonet, and the French again

fell back, broken and disheartened.

This ended the fighting on the 27th of July. Long lines of bivouac

fires soon blazed upon either side. The wounded were carried down the

hill to the field-hospital, which had been erected under its cover,

and the men, eating their scanty supper, wrapped themselves in their

great coats, and were soon asleep. The officers chatted for a short

time longer, but as all were tired, and the next day was sure to be a

severe one, they, too, soon lay down by their fire.

When morning broke, it was seen that the enemy had massed a large

force of artillery upon a hill just opposite to the one held by the

English. Soon afterwards Ruffin's division, as before supported by

Villette, advanced to the attack, covered by the tremendous fire from

his artillery. The British had no adequate force of artillery to reply

to the iron storm, and the balls swept through their lines, mowing

down their ranks, and causing great loss. The regiments in reserve lay

down to avoid the iron shower, while the Rangers and 48th prepared to

resist the French when they came within fighting distance.

As their men approached the summit of the hill, the French artillery

was obliged to cease playing in that direction, and turned its

attention to the British center, while a fierce musketry contest took

place between the French and Hill and Donkin's men.

The ground was rough, and the troops on both sides, broken up into

small bodies, fought desperately. General Hill was wounded, and the

British troops fell fast. The French, however, suffered even more,

and, as Hill brought up his reserve, the English gained ground foot by

foot, until they drove them again down the steep side of the hill. As

the French retired, their artillery once more opened fire to cover

their retreat.

A pause now ensued; the French in this brief contest had lost 1400

men, and the British had suffered severely. The French then held a

council of war, and determined to attack along the whole line in

force. Hours passed away; the English munched their corn, smoked their

pipes, and watched the enemy scattered over the plain. The weather

was very hot, and the men of both sides went down to a little stream

which divided their positions, drank, and filled their water-bottles

in perfect amity. Some of the officers, who spoke French conversed

with the French officers, exchanged cigars for brandy, and joked and

laughed as if they had been the best of friends.

At one o'clock the French drums were heard to beat, and the men were

soon formed in order. Tom and Peter stood with a group of officers on

the brow of the hill. Nothing could be finer than the sight. Far away

the view stretched over the country, thickly wooded, and with chateau

and farm-houses scatted here and there. Through the trees the dense

masses of the French could be seen, as they moved in columns towards

the positions from which they were to attack. Upon an eminence,

nearly opposite to their position, the boys could see a long line of

the French artillery. Far away, to the right, rose the churches of

Talavera, while behind the hill were the British and Spanish cavalry,

ready to charge should the French endeavor to turn the British left by

pushing round its foot. Fifty paces from the officers of the Norfolk

Rangers sat Sir Arthur Wellesley, on horseback, watching attentively

through a field-glass the movements of the enemy, and at a short

distance behind him were his staff. The British troops were standing

in easy order, a little behind the crest of the hill, so as to be

sheltered from the artillery fire with which the French were sure to

cover the advance of their column of attack.

"This is a grand sight, Peter," Tom said, "but I wish they would

begin; it makes one fidgety waiting for it."

Scarcely had Tom spoken when, as if in answer to his wish, a series

of jets of white smoke puffed out from the opposite hill, and two or

three seconds later came the thunder of eighty guns, and the whizzing

sound of as many balls. Instinctively the group drew back a pace, but

it was not upon them that this tremendous fire was opened. It was

directed against the right of the British line, and almost at the same

moment a cloud of skirmishers appeared among the trees, followed by

the dark columns of Sebastiani's division.

Upon these the English guns at once opened fire; but rushing forward

with their usual impetuosity, they cleared away the obstacles which

had been raised across the British front, and charged with fury

against the British position. Campbell's division, however, assisted

by Mackenzie's brigade and two Spanish battalions, stood firm, and

driving back the skirmishers, advanced in line, cheering loudly. The

head of the French column withered away under their tremendous fire,

and, pushing forward, they overlapped it, and drove them back with

terrible loss, capturing ten guns. Then Campbell prudently recalled

his men to their first position, and the British artillery, which had

necessarily been silent while friend and foe were mingled together,

opened furiously upon the French as they tried to re-form upon their

supports. A Spanish cavalry regiment dashed down upon their flank, and

they retired again in great disorder.

Every incident of the fight could be seen from the British position on

the hill, and the troops almost held their breath with excitement as

the British lines clashed against the head of the French column, and a

loud shout of triumph burst out spontaneously as the French broke and

fled.

But it was now the turn of the left. Already Villette's division,

preceded by the Grenadiers and supported by Ruffin's division, was

advancing, and the British cavalry were ordered to charge them. The

ground was, however, quite unfit for cavalry. Colonel Arentschild, a

very experienced officer, who commanded the German Hussars, drew up

his regiment at the edge of a deep cleft which crossed their front,

and refused to take his men to certain destruction. The 23d Dragoons,

however, dashed into the ravine. Men and horses rolled over in all

directions; still, they got across, and, charging furiously between

the French infantry regiments, which poured in a terrible fire,

fell upon a brigade of Chasseurs in their rear. Victor sent up his

Polish lancers and Westphalian light horse to the assistance of the

Chasseurs, who already outnumbered the 23d, and this gallant regiment

was completely broken, the survivors escaping to the shelter of

Bassecourt's Spanish division, which lay beyond the hill, having lost

257 men and officers.

Tom and Peter did not see this disastrous affair, for on the approach

of the enemy's column they fell into their places in the ranks. It

was, however, in vain that the French tried to gain the crest of the

hill, their efforts at this point being indeed far more feeble than

they had been either in the morning or upon the previous night. It was

in the center that their great effort was made. Here Lapisse threw his

division against that of Sherbrooke, and, covered by his own artillery

and by the guns upon the hill, charged right up to the position. The

British, however, repulsed them, and the guards, carried away by the

excitement of the moment, followed them with reckless ardor. The

French reserves of infantry and cavalry came up, the artillery plied

the British with shot and shell, the fugitives rallied and again came

to the attack, and the Guards fell back in confusion. The Germans next

to them, severely pressed, began to waver, and for a time it seemed

that the British, victorious upon both flanks, were yet to lose the

battle by being broken in the center.

Now, however, the 48th, which Sir Arthur had ordered down from the

hill when he saw the rash advance of the Guards, was seen advancing

in line through the disordered masses. Wheeling back, it allowed the

retreating regiments to pass through it and then again formed and fell

upon the flank of the victorious French column. The French paused in

their advance, the Guards and Germans rallied and came back again to

the fight, the shots of the British guns plowed lines in the column,

the French wavered, and, as the British light cavalry trotted up with

the intention of charging them, fell back, and drew off to their

first position amidst shouts of victory along the whole length of the

British line.

Thus the battle ceased, each party occupying the ground it had held in

the morning. The British loss in killed, wounded, and missing, in the

two days' fighting, was 6200; that of the French 7400. Had the British

been in a condition to have sallied from their position and pursued

the retiring enemy, the victory would have had far greater results;

but, exhausted and half-starved, the British were incapable of

following up their advantage.

The next morning at daybreak, the French army quitted its position,

and, retiring across the Alberche, formed line of battle there, and

awaited the attack, should the English take the offensive. This they

were in no position to do, although in the course of the day Craufurd

had come up with the 43d, 52d, and 95th Regiments. These three

regiments had heard of the first day's fighting from the Spanish

fugitives, and had marched with all speed to the assistance of their

friends. They had, carrying their kit and ammunition, weighing from 50

lb. to 60 lb., actually marched sixty-two miles in twenty-six hours in

the hottest season of the year, one of the greatest feats recorded in

military history.

The Rangers had suffered heavily, and in the two days' fighting had

lost thirty-eight killed and 109 wounded. Among the former were two

officers, while several others were wounded. The Scudamores had,

fortunately, both escaped without a scratch. The inhumanity of the

Spaniards was now more markedly shown than ever. Although both in

Cuesta's army, and in the town of Talavera provisions were abundant,

yet the inhabitants carefully concealed them, while both the wounded

and fighting men of the British army were in want. So great was the

misery and indignation of the soldiers at this shameful treatment,

from those for whom they were doing so much, that they would willingly

have attacked the Spanish army and plundered the town; and from this

period to the end of the war the British hated the Spanish with a deep

and bitter hatred.

Wellesley now received news that Soult had crossed the mountains

through the pass of Banos, which had been left undefended by the

Spanish, and was marching upon his rear. Believing that Soult had only

13,000 men with him--whereas in fact, he had 50,000--Sir Arthur left

the Spanish army at Talavera in charge of the hospitals, with 6000

sick and wounded, and retraced his steps, with the intention of giving

battle to this new enemy.

Upon the 3d, however, he learned the real strength of Soult's army,

and upon the same day heard that General Cuesta had basely retreated

from Talavera, without having provided any transport whatever,

according to his promise, for the British sick and wounded. All of

these who had strength to crawl rejoined the British army, but 1500,

who were unable to walk, were left behind, and fell into the hands

of the French, by whom they were treated with far greater kindness

and attention than they had been by the Spanish. Upon the 4th Cuesta

joined Sir Arthur, and at six o'clock next morning the only possible

course for safety was adopted. Victor was advancing from Talavera,

Soult was hurrying from Placentia to cut off the retreat of the

British, and accordingly Sir Arthur fell back upon Arzobispo, on the

Tagus.

The artillery, the baggage and wounded, first crossed the bridge, and

at two o'clock the entire army was across. So great was the hunger of

the men that a herd of swine happening to be seen close to the line

of march, the soldiers ran upon them, shot and bayoneted them, and

devoured them raw. Taking up a strong position, guarding the bridges

of the Tagus, the British army remained quiet until the end of August.

During this time they became so weakened by starvation that they could

scarcely walk; a great portion of the cavalry horses, and nearly all

the baggage animals died of hunger, and at last, Sir Arthur, finding

that no remonstrances availed with the Junta, fell back again to the

Portuguese frontier by slow marches, for the army was so utterly

enfeebled that it resembled a vast body of invalids, rather than an

army of unbeaten soldiers.

CHAPTER VIII.

A PAUSE IN OPERATIONS.

Talavera was fought in July, 1809, and for four months longer Sir

Arthur Wellesley kept his troops on the Spanish frontier, where his

presence served as a check against any invasion, even by a very

formidable army, of Portugal. After the utter bad faith and cowardice

shown by the Spanish, the great commander was determined never again

to trust in their promises, or to undertake any movement dependent

for success upon their co-operation. The Junta then declared that

the Spaniards would alone and unaided sweep the French beyond the

Pyrenees, and a Spanish army of 45,000 infantry, 7000 cavalry, and 60

guns advanced in November against Madrid. It was met by a French army

of 24,000 infantry, 5000 cavalry, and 50 guns. The battle began at

eleven in the morning, and by three the French, with a loss of only

1700 killed and wounded, had utterly routed the Spanish, with a loss

of 5000 killed and wounded, 45 guns, and 26,000 prisoners! After this

signal and disgraceful defeat, Lord Wellington--for he had now been

raised to the peerage--felt that nothing whatever could be done at

present in Spain, and so fell back into Portugal, where for many

months he occupied himself in preparing to meet the storm which would,

he knew, fall ere long upon that country. The Portuguese authorities

were as incapable, as untrustworthy, and as intractable as were those

of Spain; but here, happily, Lord Wellington had more power. England

was paying large subsidies towards keeping up the Portuguese army,