. The battle now raged
furiously in the centre, and the charges of the French cavalry made
fearful gaps in the Spanish battalions. At length, the rising of the
dust on the right showed that a strong column was approaching, which
might decide the day. My heart beat slow as I saw the tricolor
floating above its bayonets. It was the advanced guard, with Dupont at
its head--a force of three thousand men, which had returned rapidly on
its steps, as soon as the sound of the attack had reached it. It was
boldly resisted by the Swiss and Walloon brigades of the Spanish line:
but the French fire was heavy, its manoeuvre was daring, and I began
to fear for the fate of the day; when a loud explosion, and a hurried
movement at the extreme of the French position, turned my eyes to the
left wing. There the Spanish attack had swept every thing before it.
Brigade after brigade was giving way, and the country was covered with
scattered horsemen, infantry retiring in disorder, and broken and
captured guns. The peasantry, too, had joined in the pursuit, and the
wing seemed utterly ruined. To retrieve this disorder was now
hopeless, for the French general had extended his line to the
extraordinary length of ten miles. His baggage-train was his ruin. The
whole Spanish line now advanced, shouting, and only halting at
intervals to cannonade the enemy. The French returned a feeble fire,
and began to retreat. But retreat was now impossible, and they must
fight, or be massacred. At this moment I saw an officer, from the spot
where Dupont sat on his charger surrounded by his staff, gallop
between the two armies. He was met by a Spanish officer. The firing
ceased. Dupont had surrendered, with all the troops in Andalusia!

I was now at liberty, and I was received by the Spanish
commander-in-chief with the honours due to my mission and my country.
After mutual congratulations on this most brilliant day, I expressed
my wish to set off for Madrid without delay. An escort of cavalry was
ordered for me, and by midnight I had left behind me the slaughter and
the triumph, the noblest of Spanish fields, the immortal Baylen!

The night was singularly dark; and as the by-roads of the Peninsula
are confessedly among the most original specimens of the road-making
art, our attention was chiefly occupied, for the first hour, in
finding our way in Indian file. At length, on the country's opening, I
rode forward to the head of the troops, and addressed some quest