energy, inspiriting them with a
warlike address in the well-known style of Napoleon's proclamations. On
the 25th he set his forces in motion, with the intention of crushing the
British right by a sudden irruption, and relieving Pamplona. He all but
achieved his object, for, by well-concerted and well-concealed
movements, he actually carried the passes of Roncesvalles and Maya, in
spite of a gallant resistance and the French troops were on the point of
pouring down the Pyrenees on the Spanish side, when Wellington arrived
at full speed from his position before St. Sebastian.

He was opportunely reinforced, and gave battle on the rugged heights in
front of Pamplona to a force numerically superior, but for the most part
charging uphill. Never, even at Bussaco, did the French show greater
ardour and _elan_ in attack, and it was only after a series of bloody
hand-to-hand combats on the summits and sides of the mountains that they
were compelled to recoil and rolled backward down the ridge. Baffled in
his attempt to relieve Pamplona, Soult turned westwards towards St.
Sebastian, but was anticipated by Wellington, and faced by three
divisions of Hill on his right. A second engagement followed, in which
the Portuguese earned the chief honours, and 3,000 prisoners were taken.
At last Soult gave orders for a retreat, and in the course of it was all
but entrapped in a narrow valley where he could not have escaped the
necessity of surrender. It is said that he was warned just in time by
the sudden intrusion of three British marauders in uniform; at all
events, he instantly changed his line of march, and ultimately led his
broken army back to France, but in the utmost confusion, and not without
fresh disasters. One of these befell Reille's division in the gorge of
Yanzi, and another the French rear-guard under Clausel, which defended
itself valiantly, but was driven headlong down the northern side of the
Pyrenees from which this series of battles derives its name.

The siege of St. Sebastian was immediately renewed with a far more
powerful battering train, but its defences had also been strengthened by
the indefatigable governor. The final assault took place on August 31,
and rivalled the storming of Badajoz in the murderous ferocity of the
_melee_ at the breaches, as well as in the horrors practised on the
inhabitants by the victorious assailants, which Wellington and Graham
vainly endeavoured to check. So desperate was the defence