Just before the enemy sallied out, a French officer, it appeared, had deserted. Unfortunately, however, he came in through one of the more remote pickets, and hence those which were destined to receive the shock reaped no benefit from the event. His arrival at headquarters had, however, the effect of putting Sir John Hope on his guard; so that greater preparations to meet the threatened danger were going forward than we, on whom it came unexpectedly and at once, imagined. Five hundred men, for example, who formed a sort of reserve about a mile in rear of the outposts, were in full march towards the front when the firing began; and the enemy were in consequence checked before they had made any considerable progress, or had reached any of our more important magazines. The blue house, as we were in the habit of naming the chateau, was indeed carried; and all the piles of fascines and gabions, which had cost so much labour to construct, were burned; but besides this, little real benefit would have accrued to the assailants had the state of affairs been such as to render a battle at this particular juncture at all necessary or even justifiable.
Immediately on the alarm being given, Sir John Hope, attended by a single staff-officer, rode to the front. Thither also flew Generals Hay, Stopford, and Bradford; whilst the various brigades hurried after them at as quick a pace as the pitchy darkness of the night and the rugged and broken nature of the ground would permit. Behind them, and on either hand, as they moved, the deepest and most impervious gloom prevailed; but the horizon before them was one blaze of light. I have listened to a good deal of heavy firing in my day, but a more uninterrupted roar of artillery and musketry than was now going on I hardly recollect to have encountered.
As the attacking party amounted to five or six thousand men, and the force opposed to them fell somewhat short of one thousand, the latter were, of course, losing ground rapidly. The blue house was carried—the highroad, and several lanes that ran parallel with it, were in possession of the enemy—the village of St Esprit swarmed with them,—when Sir John Hope arrived at the entrance of a hollow road, for the defence of which a strong party had been allotted. The defenders were in full retreat. "Why do you move in that direction?" cried he, as he rode up. "The enemy are yonder, sir," was the reply. "Well, then, we must drive them back—come on." So saying, the General spurred his horse. A dense mass of French soldiers was before him; they fired, and his horse fell dead. The British picket, alarmed at the fall of the General, fled; and Sir John being a heavy man—being, besides, severely wounded in two places, and having one of his legs crushed beneath his horse—lay powerless, and at the mercy of the assailants. Captain Herries, his personal attendant on this occasion, did his best to extricate Sir John from his dilemma. He sprang from his horse, strove to drag the dead animal aside, and would not listen to the entreaties of his chief, who besought him to look to his own safety; and he paid the penalty of his devotion. The French continued to advance. They fired another volley at the retreating Guardsmen, a shot from which broke the bone of Captain Herries' leg close to the knee-joint. The young man fell, and was removed, together with his wounded General, a prisoner into the city.
Of this sad catastrophe none of the troops were at all aware, except those in whose immediate presence it occurred. The rest found ample employment, both for head and hand, in driving back the enemy from their conquests and bringing succour to their comrades, whose unceasing fire gave evidence that they still held out in the church of St Esprit. Towards that point a determined rush was made. The French thronged the street and churchyard, and plied our people with grape and canister from their own captured gun. But the struggle soon became more close and more ferocious. Bayonets, sabres, the butts of muskets, were in full play; and the street was again cleared, the barricade recovered, and the gun retaken. But they were not long retained. A fresh charge was made by increased numbers from the citadel, and our men were again driven back. Numbers threw themselves into the church as they passed, among whom was General Hay; whilst the rest gradually retired till reinforcements should come up, when they resumed the offensive, and with the most perfect success. Thus was the street of St Esprit, and the field-piece at its extremity, alternately in possession of the French and the English—the gun being taken and retaken not fewer than nine times between the hours of three and seven in the morning.
Nor was the action less sanguinary in other parts of the field. Along the sides of the various glens, in the hollow ways, through the trenches, and over the barricades, a deadly strife went on. At one moment the enemy appeared to carry everything before them; at another, they were checked, broken, and dispersed; but the darkness was so great that confusion everywhere prevailed: nor could it be ascertained, with any degree of accuracy, how matters would terminate.
At last day began to dawn, and a scene was presented of great disorder and horrible carnage. Not only were the various regiments of each brigade separated, but the regiments themselves were split up into little parties, each of which was warmly and closely engaged with a similar party of the enemy. In almost every direction, too, our men were gaining ground. The French had gradually retrograded; till now they maintained a broken and irregular line through the churchyard, and along the ridge of a hill which formed a sort of natural crest to the glacis. One battalion of Guards, which had retained its order, perceiving this, made ready to complete the defeat. They pushed forward in fine array with the bayonet; and dreadful was the slaughter which took place ere the confused mass of fugitives were sheltered within their own gates. In like manner a dash was made against those who still maintained themselves behind the churchyard wall; and they, too, with difficulty escaped into the redoubt.
A battle such as that which I have just described is always attended by a greater proportionate slaughter on both sides than one more regularly entered into and more scientifically fought. On our part, nine hundred men had fallen; on the part of the enemy, upwards of a thousand: and the arena within which they fell was so narrow that even a veteran would have guessed the number of dead at something greatly beyond this. The street of St Esprit, in particular, was covered with killed and wounded; and round the six-pounder they lay in heaps. A French artilleryman had fallen across it, with a fuze in his hand; there he lay, his head cloven asunder, and the remains of the handle of the fuze in his grasp. The muzzle and breech of the gun were smeared with blood and brains; and beside them were several soldiers of both nations, whose heads had evidently been dashed to pieces by the butts of muskets. Arms of all sorts, broken and entire, were strewed about. Among the number of killed on our side was General Hay; he was shot through one of the loopholes in the interior of the church. The wounded, too, were far more than ordinarily numerous: in a word, it was one of the most hard fought and unsatisfactory affairs that had occurred since the commencement of the war. Brave men fell when their fall was no longer of use to their country; and much blood was wantonly shed during a period of national peace.
A truce being concluded between General Colville, who succeeded to the command of the besieging army, and the Governor of Bayonne, the whole of the 15th was spent in burying the dead. Holes were dug for them in various places; and they were thrown in not without sorrow, but with very little ceremony. In collecting them together various living men were found, sadly mangled, and hardly distinguishable from their slaughtered comrades. These were of course removed to the hospitals, where every care was taken of them; but not a few perished from loss of blood ere assistance arrived. It was remarked, likewise, by the medical attendants, that a greater proportion of incurable wounds were inflicted this night than they remembered to have seen. Many had received bayonet-thrusts in vital parts: one man, I recollect, whose eyes were both torn from the sockets and hung over his cheeks; whilst several were cut in two by round-shot, which had passed through, yet left them breathing. The hospitals, accordingly, presented sad spectacles; and the shrieks and groans of the inmates acted with no more cheering effect upon the sense of hearing than their disfigured countenances and mangled forms acted upon the sense of sight.
It is unnecessary to remind the reader that, whilst our column of the army was thus engaged before Bayonne, Lord Wellington, following up his success at Orthes, had gained the splendid victory of Toulouse. As an immediate consequence upon that event, the important city of Bourdeaux was taken possession of by Lord Dalhousie, and declared for Louis XVIII.; and farther conquests were prevented only by the arrival of Colonels Cook and St Simon—the one at the headquarters of Lord Wellington, the other at those of Marshal Soult. By them, official information was conveyed of the great change which had occurred in the French capital. An armistice between the two generals immediately followed; and such an order being conveyed to General Thouvenot, as he considered himself bound to obey, a similar treaty was entered into on our side of the theatre of war. By the terms of that treaty all hostilities were to cease. The two armies were still, indeed, kept apart; nor was any one from our camp allowed to enter Bayonne without a written pass from the adjutant-general. Foraging parties only were permitted to come forth from the place at stated periods, to which limits were assigned, beyond which they were prevented from penetrating. Yet the truce was regarded by both parties as an armed one. After so recent an instance of treachery, we felt no disposition to trust to the word or honour of the French governor; and the enemy guessing, perhaps, what our feelings were, did not pretend to trust us. On each side, therefore, a system of perfect watchfulness continued. We established our pickets and planted our sentinels with the same caution and strictness as before; nor was any other difference distinguishable between the nature of those duties now and what it had been a week ago, except that the enemy suffered us to show ourselves without firing upon us. So passed several days, till, on the 20th, the war was formally declared to be at an end.