motion, and Marmont hastily retired across the Douro; destroyed the bridges, and concentrated his forces at Tordesillas. He left his rear-guard at Rueda; Sir Stapleton Cotton, with his cavalry, attacked it with great impetuosity, and drove it in confusion upon the main body. The whole French army immediately took up a strong position on the Douro.

A series of brilliant manœuvres succeeded. Lord Wellington thought it would be imprudent to attack the enemy in his strong position; and instead of advancing upon Valladolid, he threatened the Spanish capital. Marmont, who had been joined by Bonnet, and whose army had thus become superior in numbers to that of his antagonist, determined to undertake offensive operations. He extended his right as far as Toro, repaired the bridge at that place, and ordered a part of his army to cross the river, as if to turn the British left. He hastily withdrew these troops; made a rapid march with his whole army thirty miles up the river to Tordesillas; crossed at that point, and succeeded in turning the flank of the allied army at Castregon. This brilliant movement threatened for a moment to change the aspect of the campaign; it re-established the communications of the French marshal with Madrid, and enabled the armies of the north and centre of Spain to unite, and bear down with an overwhelming superiority on the British. But Lord Wellington was not to be easily disconcerted; he made arrangements for the retreat and junction of the different divisions of his army, and took up a position, in which he offered battle to the enemy. This Marmont wisely declined; but instead of wait ing for the arrival of the reinforcements which were hastening to his support, he persevered in his manœuvres to turn the British flanks, and incautiously exposed himself to attack.

When he perceived that his efforts to turn the left of the British had been counteracted, he made a similar attempt on the opposite flank, which met with the same result. Had he acted wisely, he would have waited till the army of the centre, and the other succours, which were advancing, had given him so decided a superiority, as must have left his adversary no choice in his movements; but, elated as he was by the partial success which for a time had attended his plans, he forgot, or despised, all the ordinary rules of prudence. Lord Wellington was in no condition to ha zard a battle unnecessarily; his army was inferior in numbers to that of the enemy, and was but ill supplied with stores and ammunition: although he did not decline an engagement, therefore, neither did he court it. While he provided for the retreat of his own army, he kept a watchful eye on the movements of his adversary; and with that admirable presence of mind, which nothing could confound, he prepared to take advantage of any error which the French marshal might commit. Several days were thus spent in a succession of movements than which modern warfare can boast nothing more brilliant, and neither party appeared to have gained any advantage over the other. It is true, that by threatening the British communications with Portugal, the French had succeeded in accelerating the retreat of their enemy; but it is no less certain, that all the skilful attempts made to turn the British flanks, and to compel Lord Wellington to fight at disadvantage, had proved abortive. By the 21st of July the allied army was concentrated on the Tormes; and on the same day the French also crossed the river, and again appeared to threaten Ciudad Rodrigo.

That great event, so long expected, was now approaching; but a new series of manoeuvres was first to be exe

cuted. The British army occupied a species of peninsula formed by the river; and Marmont seems to have indulged the chimerical hope of inclosing them in this position, and entirely cutting off their retreat. During the 22d and 23d, he executed a variety of movements, with the view of distracting the attention of the British general, and concealing from him his real plans. For a while he threatened the British left; but although Lord Wellington had provided for the defence of this wing of his army, he still suspected that Marmont had designs up. on the other flank, which he was therefore very careful to support. The French marshal was ambitious of doing too much; he wished to surround the British army, and he extended and weakened his own line. Lord Wellington at once perceived this fatal mistake, and saw that the moment was at last arrived which put the enemy in his power. He had been long anxious to give them battle, and to punish their temerity; they had now afforded him a finer opportunity than he could have anticipated. Arrangements were soon made for the attack; the singular conjuncture admitted of no delay.-Major-General Pakenham, with the third division, began a furious assault on the flanks of the enemy's left, in which he was supported by Brigadier General Bradford's brigade, by the fourth and fifth divisions, and the cavalry under Sir Stapleton Cotton in front. The French, although finely posted, and supported by cannon, were overthrown. Already the victory was decided. General Pack was at first unsuccessful in his attempt to drive the enemy's centre from the hill of the Arapiles; but the victorious fifth division, which had already contributed so much to the rout of the enemy's left, having changed its front, bore down on the

centre, and drove it from the hill with precipitation. Generals Beresford and Leith were wounded about this time; but these unlucky accidents did not abate the ardour of the troops. The enemy's right, which had been joined by the fugitives from the other wing, still maintained a shew of resistance; it was at once attacked in front and on its flanks, and driven in confusion from the field. Thus had the French received a total defeat throughout. their line; and nothing but the darkness of the night saved them from destruction. The pursuit was renewed next morning; the French rear-guard was overtaken, attacked, and put to flight, the cavalry leaving the infantry to its fate. Three whole battalions surrendered.-Never was victory more decisive; never did a beaten army exhibit greater marks of consternation; stores, baggage, and ammunition, every thing, in short, which could impede their flight, was left to the conquerors. The carnage on the field of battle, and in the pursuit, was prodigious; and the trophies of the victory corresponded to its importance. Eleven pieces of cannon, two eagles, and six colours, were taken; 5 generals, 3 colonels, 3 lieutenant-colonels, 130 officers of different ranks, and upwards of 7000 soldiers, were made prisoners. Marmont and Bonnet, the first and second in command, were wounded, and the command of the fugitive army devolved upon General Clausel.-The loss of the allies was small in proportion to the greatness of the success; about 700 were killed, and upwards of 4000 wounded. Major-General Le Marchant, a brave and skilful officer, was killed; Lieutenant-Generals Leith and Cole, and Major-General Alten, were wounded. Sir Stapleton Cotton, a very distinguished officer, was singularly unfortunate; he was wounded in the darkness of the night by a British

soldier, who mistook him for an enemy. Happily for his country the wound did not prove fatal.

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Thus terminated the battle of Salamanca, which will always be referred to in history as one of the most brilliant achievements of modern times, whether the matchless talents display. ed by the British general-the admirable courage of the troops or the splendid consequences which followed such a combination of heroism and genius, are considered. Let it be remembered, that when the battle was fought, the French were unquestionably superior in numbers to their enemies; that they were under the gui dance of one of the first of their marshals, who shewed a splendid genius even amid his misfortunes; and that in the utmost confidence of victory, should they be able to bring the British to an engagement, they were acting upon the offensive, and eager in the suit. It has been thought very high merit in some of the most distinguished generals, that they have been able to manage the retreat of a great army without material loss, and have conducted themselves so well as to turn upon and chastise their pursuers. It is the peculiar glory of the British commander that he did more than this; that he not only conducted the retreat of a large army without loss, but foiled his able antagonist at all points; that, not satisfied with turning to chastise him, he was able, in circumstances unexpected and disastrous, to obtain a most signal and decisive victory, and to drive his pursuers before him in disorder and consternation. If such talents as were here displayed do not constitute the perfection of military genius, we may reasonably ask, in what does this quality consist, and where is it to be found in the records of battles, or the history of the world? The army of the centre, under Joseph Buonaparte, which had advanced

from Madrid to join Marmont before the battle, had the mortification to find their comrades retreating in disorder.-Nothing could oppose the progress of the allied army; the French no longer attempted to defend the passage of the Douro; and Lord WelÎington having crossed at Trudella, entered Valladolid on the 4th of August. He had always attached great importance to the fortress of Burgos, and would, in all probability, have proceeded immediately to reduce it, had he been enabled to bring up his artillery. The rapid movements of the army, however, had rendered this impossible; and as he foresaw the great effect, in a moral and political point of view, which might be produced by his advance to Madrid, he determined to move a part of the army in this direc tion. His conduct on this, as on other occasions, evinced a rare sagacity, and was fully justified by the circumstances in which he was placed. Of these circumstances, which encouraged the hope at this time entertained, that the close of the Spanish war was approaching, it may be proper to give some account in this place, that the merits of Lord Wellington's conduct, and the objects of his movements, may be more accurately appreciated.

The battle of Salamanca was distinguished from all the other battles hitherto fought in the peninsula, by several important circumstances; it was more masterly in the design, more brilliant in the execution, and followed by consequences of far greater importance, than any of its predecessors. By the movements and operations of the British at the opening of the campaign; by the reduction of the strong fortresses, and the separation of the French armies, the contending parties were placed in an attitude towards each other, very different indeed from that in which they formerly stood, and incomparably more favourable to the

allies. In the former battles, they had acted in a great measure upon the defensive, and by the display of the greatest bravery, had in very unfavourable circumstances repulsed the enemy, when he ventured to come to blows; but here the value of their former triumphs may be said to have ended. Limited as to the resources at his disposal, the British general seldom could follow up the advantages which he gained; while the enemy with a rapidity which denoted the extent of his means, and the vigour with which they were conducted, soon repaired his losses and resumed his former attitude. If the French were beaten in the field and compelled to retire, they were enabled to effect their retreat in such order, and quietly to take up so fine a position, that except the glory of the achievement, their enemies had little more to boast of. Our armies, indeed, were fast acquiring discipline and experience; and a school was formed for the education of British officers, from which many illustrious pupils have since issued; but these were benefits which were to be afterwards reaped, when circumstances should be more propitious to the operations of the British army. In the mean time, however, many vulgar critics who judged of all things by narrow maxims; who thought that victories could not have been won, because much ground had not been gained; who could not anticipate what might in future be done by that resist less enthusiasm, which a feeling of superiority was imparting to the British soldier; and who could see in Wellington no traits but those of an ordinary mind; laughed at him when he claimed the honours of victory, and called upon him to point out the signs and consequences of it. Their view of the state of Spain and the prospects of Europe was a very homely and simple one; they avowed with an

air of triumph, that, for their part they were mere matter-of fact-men, an 1 could not follow the flights of those who still refused to despair of the fortunes of their country. They assumed it as a principle, that nothing could compensate to the British, that irremediable disadvantage as to numbers under which they must always meet their enemies on the continent; and this maxim being once established, every other evil followed of course. When their gloomy predictions were first disappointed at Vimiera, Talavera, and Albuḥera, they demanded of their antagonists to point out with precision the benefits which were derived from these victories. They disavowed all sympathy with the generous feelings of the nation; they cared not for the triumphs of the British ar mies; the unfading laurels which had been won were purchased at too great an expence for these economical politicians, and the whole business of war was, according to their sordid notions, reduced to a matter of mere vulgar calculation. Their only question on such occasions was, what has been the expence, and what the gain; how much has been thrown away in pounds, shillings, and pence, and how much territory has been acquired in reim bursement? They were busy in casting up such accounts about the Spanish war, and in uttering from their obscene temples the oracles of despair, when all their hopes were dissipated by the intelligence of the battle of Salamanca. A battle had now been fought which united at once all that was brilliant and useful; which had secured advantages to satisfy all classes of expectants; and while it was as rich in honour as the most generous could desire, had profit also in abundance to meet the wishes even of the most sordid politician. While one of the mightiest hosts of the enemy had been dispersed, his other armies of the

north, the south, and the centre were disjoined; a large portion of Spain was recovered; and an opportunity was afforded to the Spaniards themselves to come forward and seal the deliverance of their country. In its consequences, therefore, the victory of Salamanca was pre-eminently distinguished from all the former achievements of the British arms in Spain; even the most obstinate of the unbelievers began to shew some symptoms of amendment, and to doubt the soundness of their views; while those who had from the beginning taken the more generous and high-minded side in this great cause, were filled with hope and joy.

Lord Wellington having left a force under General Paget to watch the motions of the enemy, advanced with the main body of his army to the Spanish capital. Joseph Buonaparte had under his command 20,000 men; but on the approach of the British, he hastily evacuated Madrid, and retreated to Almanza on the frontiers of Murcia and Valencia; a position from which he could communicate either with Soult or with Suchet. On the 12th August, the allied army entered the capital; the Retiro garrisoned by 1.500 men immediately surrendered; while Guadalaxara was at the same time taken by the Empicenado. Intelligence was also received that an army of about 16,000 men, consisting of British and Neapolitan troops from Sicily, with some Spaniards from Majorca, the whole commanded by a British officer, had reached Alicant; so that every thing seemed to promise a vigorous prosecution of hostilities, and a glorious termination of the campaign.

The Earl of Wellington naturally believed that the Spaniards would have availed themselves of this propitious opportunity to rescue their country from a foreign yoke. Their first ef

forts had been nobly seconded by the generosity of the British nation; and puny as all their subsequent exertions had been, the ardour of their allies had never abated. Great allowance was made for the unhappy condition of Spain at the moment when her independence was assailed by the most treacherous of enemies; and England, while she generously lent her aid to the almost despairing Spaniards, gave them credit for virtues which they have never discovered. It was supposed that the ardent love of inde pendence, which was said to characterise the Spanish nation, and the unextinguishable hatred which they entertained towards the intruders, would have raised them to deeds worthy of a great people; but these most reasonable hopes were greatly disappointed. If the Spaniards loved the independence of their country much, they loved their own ease still more; if they hated the French, they had no other way of shewing their hatred, but in an irregular and petty warfare, which was marked, indeed, with a ferocity justifiable only against their present enemies. The moment had at length arrived, however, when, if there existed a single spark of genuine patriotism in Spain, it should have been struck out; and when by one grand and unanimous effort the whole Spanish nation might have been expected once for all to have avenged themselves on their oppressors. The joy which the people discovered when the British army entered Madrid, is thus described by Lord Wellington, on whose sober account even the most suspicious will rely." It is impossible," says his lordship, "to describe the joy manifested by the inhabitants of Madrid upon our arrival; and I hope that the prevalence of the same sentiments of detestation of the French yoke, and of a strong desire to secure the independence of their country,