Soult fell sullenly back, covering his retreat with his cavalry, and at three o'clock the firing had died away. During the night after the battle the rain fell incessantly, and the wounded lay untended on the hill slopes.

On the 17th Soult still seemed in doubt whether to fall on again, and Beresford, though with sorely shrunken numbers, kept his position on the hill. Part of the fourth division, however, came up by a forced march from Jerumenha, and on the 18th Soult retreated, leaving many of his wounded to fall into the hands of the British.

The fight of Albuera lasted four hours, and the slaughter may be judged by the fact that within the space of a few acres some 7000 dead bodies, French, English, and Spanish, lay heaped. No less than 4407 British fell, out of a total of 6500 British soldiers actually engaged. Of the Buffs, who went into the fight with 24 officers and 750 rank and file, only 5 officers and 35 privates answered their names at roll-call the next morning.

The colours of the 57th were pierced with thirty bullets; those of the 7th Fusiliers were torn to rags and the staff shot to fragments. "I think this action," said Wellington, "one of the most glorious and honourable to the character of the troops of any that has been fought during the war."

Soult's complaint against the British is perhaps a more splendid compliment than even Wellington's praise. "They could not be persuaded," he grumbled, "that they were beaten."

"They were bad soldiers," he said again; "they were completely beaten. The day was mine. And yet they did not know it and would not run." According to French historians, the fatal day of Albuera exerted ever afterwards a great and disastrous influence upon the spirit of the French soldiers. These old warriors, always, heretofore, conquerors in the North of Europe, and often in Spain, no longer approached the English but with a secret feeling of distrust. The stern obstinacy of Houghton's regiments, the terrible charge of the Fusiliers, in a word, coloured the French imagination for the rest of the war!

Badajos was now again invested, but Soult and Marmont were quickly in movement to relieve it, and the siege, urged with signal courage but with absurdly inadequate appliances, was once more raised. Wellington checked the advance of Soult by again offering battle at Albuera, but the French general had no mind to try his fortunes twice on that ill-omened field.

Late in June, when Marmont, Soult, and Drouet had combined their forces, making a formidable army of 70,000 men, including 10,000 cavalry, Wellington, with less than 60,000 men, offered battle afresh on the Caya. The French generals, however, deemed the risk of a battle too great, and mere want of supplies compelled them to break up their combination, Soult falling back to Seville Marmont to Salamanca. Early in September Wellington blockaded Ciudad Rodrigo. This was more for the sake of compelling Marmont to concentrate his plundering columns, thus relieving Galicia and Navarre, than with any real expectation of capturing so strong a fortress.

On September 22, accordingly, Marmont and Dorsenne, with their combined forces of 60,000 men, were within ten miles of Ciudad; Wellington, with less than 45,000 men, was standing ready for battle within his lines. Marmont found Wellington's front too formidable to be attacked. There lay on the imagination of his soldiers, like it paralysing spell, the memories of Busaco, of Fuentes, of Albuera. Marmont's tactics, however, led to one of the most brilliant cavalry, fights of the war.

On September 25, a French column, consisting of fourteen battalions of infantry, 30 squadrons of cavalry, and 12 guns, under Montbrun, attempted to seize the hill of El Bodon, held by the 77th, a battalion of the 5th, and a Portuguese regiment, with two squadrons of German Hussars and two of the 11th Light Dragoons.

The French cavalry, splendid and daring horsemen, rode straight up the hill heedless of the musketry fire of the infantry, but as they reached its summit, blown with their gallop, they were charged again and again by the German Hussars and the British Light Dragoons. Fully a score of times the British cavalry, riding in with loose reins and bloody spurs, drove the French horsemen, four times their own number, down the hill, and the men apparently enjoyed the operation.

"I can personally attest," says Sir Charles Stewart, " that the single source of anxiety experienced by the officers in command arose from the fear lest these brave fellows should follow the broken multitudes down the cliffs and precipices into which they drove them."

A French cavalry regiment captured two Portuguese guns, whereupon Ridge of the 5th, a gallant soldier, charged the French cavalry with his infantry, and retook the guns, with the bayonet. The spectacle of an infantry regiment deliberately charging cavalry is rare in war.

Sir Charles Stewart tells the story of the gallant deed performed by the 5th. They were ordered to recover the guns which had fallen into the hands of the French cavalry.

"They marched up in line," he says, "and firing with great coolness; when at the distance of only a few paces from their adversaries, they brought their bayonets to the charging position and rushed forward. I believe this is the first instance on record of a charge with the bayonet being made upon cavalry by an infantry battalion in line; nor, perhaps, would it be prudent to introduce the practice into general use. But never was charge more successful. Possessing the advantage of ground, and keeping in close and compact array, the 5th literally pushed their adversaries down the hill; they then re-took the guns, and, limbering them to the horses, which had followed their advance, drew them off in safety."

Montbrun, however, was not to be denied. His force was overwhelming; reinforcements were coming up but slowly, and the British and Portuguese bad to fall back. Colville, who was in command, sent the Portuguese in advance, formed in a steady square; the 5th and 75th were so reduced in numbers that they had to combine to form a second square; and these two moving patches of steadfast infantry had to cross six miles of plain with Montbrun's triumphant cavalry thundering on them from every side.

One of the British squares was assailed on three faces at the same moment; it was a duel betwixt the sabre of the horsemen and the bayonet of the infantry! Picton presently brought up the 45th, the 74th, and the 88th regiments, and took command of the whole movement. Montbrun, with 15 squadrons of cavalry, tried to detain the steadily moving battalions till his own infantry and guns came up.

One battery of six guns, indeed, was already in action, pouring a cruel fire of grape and canister into the solid ranks of the English squares. When the French horse were not in actual charge, the British infantry fell into columns for the sake of speed; and it needed cool judgment to choose the moment when the column, at the word of command, crystallised into a square, against whose faces the galloping horsemen hurled themselves in vain. At one time the squadrons of eager horsemen were riding within half pistol-sbot of the columns.

"Picton took off his hat, and, holding it over his eyes as a shade from the sun, looked sternly but anxiously at the French. The clatter of the horses and the clanking of the scabbards were so great when the right half squadron moved up, that many thought it the forerunner of a general charge. Some mounted officer called out, 'Had we not better form square?' 'No,' replied Picton, 'it is but a ruse to frighten us."' In spite of Montbrun's daring and incessant charges, the British regiments reached Guinaldo unbroken.

On September 29 Wellington offered battle on the banks of the Coa to Marmont, but in vain, and on the 30th Marmont and Dorsenne, driven by the difficulty of securing supplies, had to separate their forces. The truth is that all the later stages of the campaign of 1811 were shaped and coloured by the recollections of Albuera. Thrice Wellington offered battle to forces superior to his own, and thrice the French refused to accept the risks of a contest with Wellington's iron infantry.

Albuera represents a battle won, not by the brains of the general, but by the valour of the men in the ranks. But the campaign of 1811 closes with a brilliant stroke of soldiership, in which the general's brain did more even than the private soldier's bayonet to secure victory.

Suppression

Hill, with his division, was keeping watch on Badajos and guarding against any irruptions from Estremadura, while Castanos was reorganising the broken Spanish army. Soult despatched Girard with 5000 men, of whom 1000 were cavalry, to disperse Castanos' levies, and Wellington, in turn, instructed Hill to suppress Girard. Girard, an active and enterprising general, highly esteemed by Napoleon, evaded Hill with much skill, but on October 27 Hill learnt that his enemy was encamped at Arroyo de Alolinos, a village on the spur of the Sierra do Alontaches.

By a forced march, Hill reached Alcuescar. within four miles of Girard's position, and prepared to leap on the unsuspecting Frenchman. Hill mainaged his surprise with great skill. The light companies were thrown as a screen round the village to prevent news of Hill's presence leaking through to the enemy. No fire was lit. it was a wild night, with furious winds and splashing rain, but the patient troops stood in the darkness, while the tempest beat on them, till the order to move was given. No bugle-note or roll of drum gave the signal. The men moved off to a whispered command, climbed the mountain paths in silence, and, just as the skies were growing grey, found themselves within half a mile of Arroyo.

A tempest of hail was sweeping over the landscape; and, as it happened, was blowing in the line of the march towards Arroyo, and the French pickets had turned their backs to the tempest.

The British thus reached the entrance to the village without being discovered. Hill, in appearance and temper, was a cross betwixt *an English squire and a village rector. His look was fatherly, his temper gentle, but behind this placid face there was the spirit of a fine and gallant soldier. He was perhaps Wellington's most trusted lieutenant.

"Hill," said Wellington, "may be always depended upon to do nothing more and nothing less than he is ordered to do." But when, on that October morning, Hill found Girard within his grasp, the unconscious French beginning to form for their march in entire ignorance that the heads of the British columns were within striking distance, all the calm of the English general's manner vanished. His sword flashed in his hand; be gave a loud "Hurrah!" and, spurring his horse, led the rush of the first brigade into the village; the Highlanders, with that touch of grim humour to which the bagpipe lends itself, playing "Hey, Johnnie Copo, are you wauking yet?" as they charged. The second brigade had gained the exit from the village, and, before the rush of the 71st and the 92nd, the half-gathered French were swept away, and their cannon and baggage captured. With the readiness of veterans, the French tried to form themselves into squares, but every attempt at formation was wrecked.

French Flee

At last they broke. Muskets and knapsacks were thrown off, and in scattered groups the French clambered up the steep flank of the Sierra de Montaches.

Hill's troops had marched through rain and mist all night, but at this scene they forgot their toils. The whole spectacle was a jest to them; "they laughed, shouted, jumped in their heavy accoutrements," says Hill's biographer, "or caught the scrambling horses of the fugitives who could not ride them over the mountain."

The French killed numbered 500; nearly 1500 prisoners were taken, including a general, a colonel of cavalry, and thirty-five lieutenant-colonels, captains, &c. Prince d'Arenburg, who commanded the 27th Chasseurs, made a gallant effort to escape, riding at speed through the village. But a corporal of the 71st, standing singly with charged bayonet in the road, stopped the rider and made him prisoner.

Girard was wounded, but managed to escape, only to be arrested by Soult, who reported him to Bonaparte. Girard's force was completely destroyed, and it was shown that an English general could perform a feat of swifter and more adroit soldiership than even one of Napoleon's choicest officers.

Chapter XXII: A Campaign of Sieges