We halted some days at this village, and for a while the war was forgotten; and convivial dinner parties were given in this plentifully-supplied country, where provisions might be purchased for a trifle: fine capons a franc each, while turkeys, geese, ducks, eggs, bacon, milk, butter, excellent wine, and all articles of consumption, were to be had at proportionably low prices.
One fine morning myself and messmate mounted our capering, snorting steeds, their ears cocked, and their carcases swelled out with good provender, to pursue our way towards Mont de Marsan, with the laudable intention of making a few purchases for an intended dinner party. Having made our selection of pastry, sweetmeats and desert, we directed the whole to be carefully packed and forwarded to a certain wine merchant, who was busily packing up, in a large hamper, several dozens of his choicest wines and liqueurs; and it was agreed that the whole was to be paid for at our quarters, to insure their punctual delivery by a certain hour—to which the wily merchant and confectioner complacently and readily assented, not having failed by the bye to charge English prices on all the commodities, that is to say about a hundred per cent above the market price. We escorted the cart the greater part of the way to show the driver the right road, but when within a short distance of the village, we pointed it out, exhorting him to use all speed, and rode on to superintend other little preliminaries. Upon reaching the maison de logement, the people told us that the regiment had marched off three hours before towards Grenade, and not a vestige of any thing belonging to us was left behind. The people begged and entreated that we would take some refreshment, which we would have assented to, (for our appetites were as keen as the wind), but the cart and hamper were momentarily expected at the door. What was to be done? To pay for that which we could not consume, or carry away, would be the height of folly; therefore, confiding our predicament to the good-natured host, he embraced us, and, setting spurs to our steeds, at a hand canter, we quitted the long village at one end, as the cart drew up at the other; nor did we relax our pace, until the shades of evening brought us to a town crammed with cavalry, artillery, tumbrils, baggage and commissariat.
Here we gained some tidings from one of the heavy German dragoons of the route of our division, and alighting at a hotel, we got our horses well fed, and rubbed down, and, having partaken of an excellent bottle of wine, and a dish of stewed veal, we resumed our journey.
At eleven o'clock at night, we entered another town, filled with infantry soldiers, who were standing round the fires they had kindled in the streets, whilst others were fast asleep, sitting on the stone steps, or lying under the threshold of doorways. We would fain have passed the night here, but admittance was nowhere to be gained, although we dismounted and kicked, and thumped with all our might at the several doors. These noises had so repeatedly occurred during the night through the troops outside striving to gain an entrance, that such salutations were unattended to. Thence wandering onwards amidst darkness and uncertainty we issued from the town by a broad road, enveloped in a thick fog, for not a soul could now give us the least clue to the division; and it is impossible to convey an idea of the uncertain information in rear of an army. I have often been within half a mile of the division, without meeting a person who knew any thing of its march, and, without the least hesitation, people would give a totally opposite direction to that followed by the troops.
In half an hour, we heard a buzz of voices to the right of the road, and through the dense mist could see the glimmer of fires, and in a few minutes more found our corps, encamped in a fallow field, where we passed a shivering night. Often is the cup of happiness dashed from the lip; but certainly the conclusion of our intended fête was quite the reverse of what we had anticipated, when briskly and gaily starting for Mont de Marsan on the preceding day!
During this short suspension of hostilities with us, General Hill had been engaged with the enemy, on the 2nd of March near the town of Air, and, after a sharp affair, succeeded in driving them to the right bank of the Adour, and also in a southerly direction towards the large town of Pau.
From this place, we moved into wretched villages, situated on muddy cross roads in the neighbourhood of Cazeres. The weather continued frigid; the atmosphere was overcast with either miserable fogs, or heavy rains.
The peasantry in Gascony speak a sort of patois, or broken French. The women tilled the fields, harnessed the horses, drove and loaded carts, and handled the implements of husbandry—such as the plough, the long spade, and dung-forks—just like the men: their appearance is ugly and coarse; many of their statures are of Herculean proportions. They wear wooden shoes, and a bundle of short coarse woollen petticoats, with a piece of coarse cloth, or sack wrapped about their heads, the flaps of which hang on their shoulders, or down their backs, to keep off the inclemency of the weather, altogether giving them a most uncouth appearance. The wives and daughters of the gros fermiers possess a little more life and animation, and were pretty well attired; but they are a plain, innocent, plodding people, over whose morals the Curé du Village exercises a gentle sway, apparently more by the superiority of his education, than by spiritual exhortations.
These pastors reside in comfortable houses, decorated with the vine, the rose tree, odoriferous plants, &c. Their garden is generally well stocked with vegetables, or otherwise prettily arranged by some fair hand under the designation of ma nièce. An entrance was never gained to these abodes, unless all the other houses were crammed to excess by the soldiery.
While in this neighbourhood we frequently moved towards the high road, and stood to our arms the whole day. On the 12th General Beresford with the seventh division entered Bordeaux, where he was received with acclamations by the populace, who hoisted the white flag, and the cocarde blanche, crying, "vivent les Bourbons! vivent les Anglais!"