The subaltern

by G. R. Gleig

Leaving other epistles to their fate, I put my own in my pocket, and, stuffing my volume of plunder into my bosom, pushed on. About a hundred yards in rear of the chateau we arrived at the first line of works, consisting of a battery for two guns, with a deep trench in front of it. It was flanked both on the right and left by farmhouses, with a good deal of plantation, and a couple of garden walls, and would have cost our people no inconsiderable loss had we been foolhardy enough to attack it. It was erected just upon the commencement of the rising ground. On passing it we found ourselves at the ascent of a bare hill, about the altitude, perhaps, of Shooter's Hill, and not dissimilar in general appearance, the summit of which was covered by three redoubts, connected, the one with the other, by two open batteries. As we gazed at these, we could not but remark to ourselves how painful must have been the feelings of the French general when compelled to abandon them; and we, of course, paid the compliments which were his due to our own leader, by whose judicious management the labours of months were rendered profitless to such an adversary.

We had just cleared the intrenchments when a cry arose from the rear, "Make way for the cavalry!" Our men, accordingly, inclined to the right of the road, when the 12th and 16th light dragoons rode past at a quick trot, sending out half a troop before them to feel their way. The object of this movement, as we afterwards found, was to hinder, if possible, the destruction of the bridge at St Jean de Luz; but the attempt succeeded only in part, the enemy having already set fire to their train.

"Push on, push on," was now the word. We accordingly quickened our pace, and reached St Jean de Luz about nine o'clock; but we were too late to secure a passage of the Nivelle, the bridge being already in ruins. Our cavalry had reached it only in time to see the mine exploded, which the French troops had dug in its centre arch; and hence a halt became necessary till the chasm thus created should be filled up. The effect was remarkably striking; the whole of the first and fifth divisions, with the King's German legion, several brigades of Portuguese, and two divisions of Spanish troops, came pouring up, till the southern suburb of St Jean de Luz was filled with armed men, to the number of perhaps twenty or thirty thousand.

It is probably needless for me to say that we found St Jean de Luz for the most part abandoned by its inhabitants. Here and there, indeed, a few faces were protruded from windows and balconies, and feeble cries of Vivent les Anglois! and the waving of threescore or so of handkerchiefs, greeted our progress. But the persons so conducting themselves belonged exclusively to the lower orders, for the gentry and municipality were gone. It is just to add, however, that in the course of a very few days both the gentry and municipal authorities returned, and that they, and indeed all the inhabitants of the place, were not only protected from insult and wrong, but encouraged to resume, as they did, their usual occupations.

While the column halted till the bridge should be so far repaired as to permit the infantry to cross, I happened to stray a little from the main street, and beheld, in a lane which ran parallel with the river, a spectacle exceedingly shocking. I saw no fewer than fifty-three donkeys standing with the sinews of the hinder legs cut through. On inquiring from an inhabitant the cause of this, he told me that these poor brutes, being overloaded with the baggage of the French army, had knocked up; when the soldiers, rather than suffer them to fall into our hands in a serviceable condition, hamstrung them all. Why they were not merciful enough to shoot them, I know not; unless, indeed, they were apprehensive of causing an alarm among us by the report. But what their caution hindered we performed: the poor creatures were all shot dead ere we advanced.

The town of St Jean de Luz covers about as much ground, and, I should imagine, contains about as many inhabitants, as Carlisle or Canterbury. It is divided into two parts by the river Nivelle, which falls into the sea about a couple or three miles below, at a village, or rather port, called Secoa. Like other French towns of its size, St Jean de Luz is not remarkable for its air of neatness; but there are in it a good market-place, two or three churches, and a theatre. The Nivelle, where it flows through the city, may be about the width of the Eden or the Isis. It is rendered passable, and the two quarters of the city are connected, by a stone bridge of three arches—beside which, the stream itself is fordable, both for cavalry and infantry, at low water. When we came in this morning the tide was up, but it had been for some time on the turn; and hence, in about a couple of hours, we were perfectly independent of the repairs. By this time, however, the broken arch had been united by means of planks and beams of wood; but as the junction was none of the most firm, it was deemed prudent to send the troopers through the water, the infantry only crossing by the bridge. Along with the cavalry was sent the artillery also; and thus, by noon on the 11th of November, the whole of the left column had passed the Nivelle.

We had hardly quitted St Jean de Luz when the weather, which during the entire morning had looked suspicious, broke, and a cold heavy rain began to fall. This lasted without any intermission till dark, by which means our march became the reverse of agreeable; and we felt as if we would have given the enemy a safe-conduct as far as Bayonne, in return for permission to halt and dry ourselves before a fire. But of halting no hint was dropped; nor was it till our advanced-guard came up with the rear of the French army, posted in the village of Bidart, and along the heights adjoining, that any check was given to our progress. As it was now late, the sun having set and twilight coming on, it was not judged expedient to dislodge the enemy till morning; in consequence of which our troops were commanded to halt. But there was no cover for them. Only a few cottages stood near the road, and the tents were at least fourteen miles in the rear; the night was accordingly spent by most of us on the wet ground.

From the moment that the rain began to fall we remarked that the Spanish, and in some instances the Portuguese troops, setting the commands of their officers at defiance, left their ranks, and scattered themselves over the face of the country. While this was going on, I have good reason to believe that several horrible crimes were perpetrated. Of the French peasants, many, trusting to our proclamations, remained quietly in their houses; these were, in too many instances, plundered and cruelly treated by the marauders, who were, I suspect, urged on to the commission of numerous atrocities by a feeling far more powerful than the desire of plunder. A strong and overwhelming thirst of vengeance drew, I am convinced, many to the perpetration of terrible deeds; indeed, one case of the kind came under my own immediate notice, which I shall here relate.

About three o'clock in the afternoon, a temporary check took place in the line of march, when the corps to which I belonged was about two miles distant from Bidart. A brigade of cavalry alone was in front of us. A Portuguese brigade, including one regiment of caçadores, was in our rear. We stood still in our places; but the caçadore regiment, breaking its ranks, rushed in a tumultuous manner towards two or three cottages on the left of the road. The officers, with the utmost difficulty, recalled them; but a few individuals, as the event proved, succeeded in their effort of insubordination. These, however, were not noticed at the time, and it was thought that all were where they ought to be.

A little way, perhaps a couple of hundred yards, in front, stood another French cottage, surrounded by a garden, and detached from all others. In about five minutes after order had been restored, we heard a female shriek come from that cottage. It was followed by the report of a musket; and ere we had time to reach the spot, another shot was fired. We ran up and found a poor old French peasant lying dead at the bottom of the garden. A bullet had passed through his head, and his thin grey hairs were dyed with his own blood. We hastened towards the house; and just as we neared the door, a caçadore rushed out, and attempted to elude us. But he was hotly pursued and taken. When he was brought back, we entered the cottage, and, to our horror, we saw an old woman, in all probability the wife of the aged peasant, lying dead in the kitchen.