ded Kempt's brigade through rocky
ground to within easy charging distance.

[Illustration: BATTLE OF VITTORIA]

The bridge was seized, Joseph's outposts were completely turned, and
time was given for the muster of Picton's men. Stoutly they breasted
the slopes, and unsteadied the weakened French centre, which was also
assailed on its northern flank. At the same time Joseph's left wing
began to waver under Hill's repeated onslaughts; and, distracted by
the distant cannonade, which told of a stubborn fight between Graham
and Reille, the King now began to draw in his lines towards Vittoria.
For a time the French firmly held the village of Arinez, but Picton's
men were not to be denied. They burst through the rearguard, and the
battle now became a running fight, extending over some five miles of
broken country. At the last slopes, close to Vittoria, the defenders
made a last heroic stand, and their artillery dealt havoc among the
assailants; but our fourth division, rushing forward into the smoke,
carried a hill that commanded their left, and the day was won. Nothing
now remained for the French but a speedy retreat, while the gallant
Reille could still hold Graham's superior force at bay.

There, too, the fight at last swirled back, albeit with many a
rallying eddy, into Vittoria. That town was no place of refuge, but a
death-trap; for Graham had pushed on a detachment to Durana, on the
high-road leading direct to France, and thus blocked the main line of
retreat. Joseph's army was now in pitiable plight. Pent up in the
choked streets of Vittoria, torn by cannon-shot from the English
lines, the wreckage of its three armies for a time surged helplessly
to and fro, and then broke away eastwards towards Pamplona. On that
side only was safety to be found, for British hussars scoured the
plain to the north-east, lending wings to the flight. The narrow
causeway, leading through marshes, was soon blocked, and panic seized
on all: artillerymen cut their traces and fled; carriages crowded with
women, once called gay, but now frantic with terror, wagons laden with
ammunition, stores, treasure-chests, and the booty amassed by generals
and favourites during five years of warfare and extortion, all were
left pell-mell. Jourdan's Marshal's baton was taken, and was sent by
Wellington to the Prince Regent, who acknowledged it by conferring on
the victor the title of Field-Marshal.

Richly was the title deserved. After four years of ba