“Two officers (Captain Campbell and Lieutenant Young) and about 60 of inferior rank were all that now remained without a wound of the right wing of the regiment that entered the field in the morning. The flag was hanging in tatters, and stained with the blood of those who had fallen over it. The standard, cut in two, had been successively placed in the hands of three officers, who fell as we advanced; it was now borne by a sergeant, while the few remaining soldiers who rallied around it, defiled with mire, sweat, smoke, and blood, stood ready to oppose with the bayonet the advancing column, the front files of which were pouring in destructive showers of musketry among our confused ranks. To have disputed the post with such overwhelming numbers, would have been hazarding the loss of our colours, and could serve no general interest to our army, as we stood between the front of our advancing support and the enemy; we were therefore ordered to retire. The greater number passed through the cottage, now filled with wounded and dying, and leaped from the door that was over the road into the trench of the redoubt among the killed and wounded.
“We were now between two fires of musketry, the enemy to our left and rear, the 79th and left wing of our own regiment in our front. Fortunately the intermediate space did not exceed a hundred paces, and our safe retreat depended upon the speed with which we could perform it. We rushed along like a crowd of boys pursuing the bounding ball to its distant limit, and in an instant plunged into a trench that had been cut across the road: the balls were whistling amongst us and over us; while those in front were struggling to get out, those behind were holding them fast for assistance, and we became firmly wedged together, until a horse without a rider came plunging down on the heads and bayonets of those in his way; they on whom he fell were drowned or smothered, and the gap thus made gave way for the rest to get out.
“The right wing of the regiment, thus broken down and in disorder, was rallied by Captain Campbell (afterwards brevet lieutenant-colonel) and the adjutant (Lieutenant Young) on a narrow road, the steep banks of which served as a cover from the showers of grape that swept over our heads.
“As soon as the smoke began to clear away, the enemy made a last attempt to retake their redoubts, and for this purpose advanced in great force: they were a second time repulsed with great loss, and their whole army was driven into Toulouse.”[331]
Finding the city, which was now within reach of the guns of the allies, quite untenable, Soult evacuated it the same evening, and was allowed to retire without molestation. Even had he been able to have withstood a siege, he must have soon surrendered for want of the provisions necessary for the support of a population of 60,000 inhabitants, and of his own army, which was now reduced by the casualties of war and recent desertions to 30,000 men.
The loss of the 42d in the battle of Toulouse, was 4 officers, 3 sergeants, and 47 rank and file killed; and 21 officers, 14 sergeants, 1 drummer, and 231 rank and file wounded. The names of the officers killed were Captain John Swanson, Lieutenant William Gordon, Ensigns John Latta and Donald Maccrummen; the wounded were Lieutenant-colonel Robert Macara, Captains James Walker, John Henderson (who died of his wounds), Alexander Mackenzie, and Lieutenants Donald Mackenzie, Thomas Munro, Hugh Angus Fraser, James Robertson, R. A. Mackinnon, Roger Stewart, Robert Gordon, Charles Maclaren, Alexander Strange, Donald Farquharson (who died of his wounds), James Watson, William Urquhart; Ensigns Thomas Macniven, Colin Walker, James Geddes, John Malcolm, and Mungo Macpherson.
The allies entered Toulouse on the morning after the battle, and were received with enthusiasm by the inhabitants, who, doubtless, considered themselves extremely fortunate in being relieved from the presence of the French army, whose retention of the city a few hours longer would have exposed it to all the horrors of a bombardment. By a singular coincidence, official accounts reached Toulouse in the course of the day of the abdication of Buonaparte, and the restoration of Louis XVIII.; but it is said that these despatches had been kept back on the road.
At this time the clothing of the army at large, but the Highland brigade in particular, was in a very tattered state. The clothing of the 91st regiment had been two years in wear; the men were thus under the necessity of repairing their old garments in the best manner they could: some had the elbows of the coats mended with gray cloth, others had the one-half of the sleeves of a different colour from the body; and their trousers were in as bad a condition as their coats.
The 42d, which was the only corps in the brigade that wore the kilt, was beginning to lose it by degrees; men falling sick and left in the rear frequently got the kilt made into trousers, and on joining the regiment again no plaid could be furnished to supply the loss; thus a great want of uniformity prevailed; but this was of minor importance when compared to the want of shoes. As the march continued daily, no time was to be found to repair them, until completely worn out; this left a number to march with bare feet. These men being occasionally permitted to straggle out of the ranks to select the soft part of the roads or fields adjoining, others who had not the same reason to offer for this indulgence followed the example, until each regiment marched regardless of rank, and sometimes mixed with other corps in front and rear.[332]
In consequence of the cessation of hostilities, the British troops removed without delay to their appointed destinations, and the three Highland regiments were embarked for Ireland, where they remained till May 1815, when they were shipped for Flanders, on the return of Buonaparte from Elba. In Ireland the 1st battalion was joined by the effective men of the 2d, which had been disbanded at Aberdeen in October 1814.