It is always interesting to know what estimate great commanders have formed of one another. During the Peninsular campaign, marshal Marmont, with about sixty thousand men, approached Wellington’s position at Fuente-Guinaldo, when the iron Duke’s force did not exceed two thousand five hundred horse, and two weak divisions of infantry. Still he exhibited the same coolness and imperturbable self-possession, which, in emergency, invariably marked his distinguished and successful career. On this occasion, the Spanish general Alava, whose enlightened patriotism and high military qualities had endeared him to the Duke, thus accosted him, “Here you are with a couple of weak divisions in front of the whole French army; and you seem quite at your ease! Why, it is enough to put any man in a fever!”—“I have done according to the very best of my judgment all that can be done,” was the characteristic reply of the British commander, “and therefore I care not either for the enemy in front, or for anything which they may say at home.” Upon Marmont’s being informed, that, for thirty-six hours, Wellington, with about fourteen thousand men, had lain within cannon range of him, his astonishment was unbounded; and he is said to have exclaimed, that, “Brilliant as was Napoleon’s star, Wellington’s was more brilliant still.” Marshal Marmont’s discrimination was amply proved at Waterloo. Lieutenant-colonel Ponsonby, of the 12th light dragoons, gives the following account of himself on being wounded. He says, “In the _mêlée_ (thick of the fight) I was almost instantly disabled in both my arms, losing first my sword, and then my rein; and, followed by a few of my men who were presently cut down, no quarter being asked or given, I was carried along by my horse, till, receiving a blow from a sabre, I fell senseless on my face to the ground. Recovering, I raised myself a little to look round, being at that time in a condition to get up and run away, when a lancer passing by, cried out, ‘_Tu n’es pas mort, coquin!_’ and struck his lance through my back. My head dropped, the blood gushed into my mouth, a difficulty of breathing came on, and I thought all was over. Not long after, a skirmisher stopped to plunder me, threatening my life: I directed him to a small side-pocket, in which he found three dollars, all I had; but he continued to threaten, tearing open my waistcoat, and leaving me in a very uneasy posture.