"On the afternoon of the 25th we were ordered to halt, just as we were about to ford the Gave, below a large farmhouse, where the river is fordable, but was said to have been set with spikes, so as to form an obstruction to our passage. Perhaps there was no truth in this report; however, we suddenly retrograded and passed on pontoons, not far from a small village, in which we were quartered for the night. On the following day we approached the neighbourhood of Orthez, where we pitched camp on the south side of the gently rising heights, the north side of which forms the left bank of the Pau and overlooks the handsome town beyond.
"An explosion, occasioned by the blowing up of a bridge, excited the curiosity of a few to steal up the height, notwithstanding that we had been charged against discovering ourselves to the enemy. Others followed the example, and as no measures were taken, or perhaps were necessary, to prevent it, the men indulged themselves with a view of Orthez, the beautiful valley, with the Pau stealing softly along its south side, while the long range of mountain heights bounding it on the north rose abruptly over the road leading from Bayonne and Peyrehorade. Many a man gazed on that mountain range who little thought that before to-morrow's sun should go down, he would be stretched upon it a lifeless corpse."
Orthez was, in many respects, a memorable fight. Soult was superior in numbers, held an almost impregnable position, fought with great skill, and for one delusive golden moment believed he had beaten Wellington! As he saw the British columns which had attacked both his right and left flanks reeling back, broken and disordered, it is said that he smote his thigh and exclaimed with excitement, "At last I have them!" The battle was won by the obstinate valour of the British soldiers, especially of the immortal Light Division and the swiftness of Wellington's counter-stroke at Soult's centre. Soult's left was covered by the Pau, and his centre by what seemed to be an impassable marsh. Two diverging and hilly ridges, thrust out like the horns of a bull, constituted his right and left flanks.
Beresford's attack on the French right, though urged five times over, failed. Picton's assault on the horn which formed Soult's left, urged with equal fire, also failed. Wellington won by sending the Light Division across the marsh and breaking Soult's centre. The 42nd formed part of Picton's attacking force, and the onfall of such troops under such a leader is not easily arrested; but the position held by the French was practically impregnable. In a private letter Picton wrote: "We were for nearly two hours exposed to the most continued and severe cannonade I ever witnessed. One of our 9-pounders had every man killed by round shot." In Anton's account the fire of this fierce fight is somehow chilled:—
"Early on the morning of Sunday, the 27th, we marched down the left bank of the Pau, passed over on a pontoon bridge, and directed our course upon the main road up the valley towards Orthez. Two divisions of the army were already on the road before us. The heights on our left appeared to be in the possession of the enemy, and as our movements were plainly to attack his centre or his left, which was posted in and above the town, corresponding movements became necessary on his part, and his ranks were seen advancing along the ridge parallel with ours. As the mountain approaches that place where the road to St. Severe passes over it from Orthez, there is a downward bend of about a mile; it rises, however, to a considerable height on the east side of that road, and commands the town and its approaches.
"On our coming near this bending, our brigade was ordered to move to its left; several enclosures were in our way, but this was no time to respect them, as the enemy was welcoming us with round shot and shell. The gardens and nurseries were trodden down in an instant, and a forest of bayonets glittered round a small farmhouse that overlooked a wooded ravine on the north side.
"The light companies which had preceded the brigade were keeping up a sharp fire upon the enemy's skirmishers, and our Grenadier company was ordered to take post along the bank overlooking the ravine, and commanding a narrow road below. No place seemed less practicable for cavalry to act, but the enemy were determined to make every effort to re-establish their lines on the heights from which they had been driven by the light troops, and some of their squadrons were seen approaching to drive back our advance, which by this time was reinforced by the Grenadiers, but the more effectually to repel an attack, two additional companies were despatched to reinforce those already sent, and these had scarcely been formed when the charge of cavalry was announced; it was met and repulsed; men and horses were tumbled over the steep bank on the narrow road below, skirting the ravine.
"The gallant young officer who led that charge, passed through the ranks like a lion pouncing on his prey, and was made prisoner by M'Namara of the Grenadier company. This man, if my memory serve me well, gave the horse and sword to one of our captains, who was afterwards appointed brevet-major; but poor M'Namara, who was more of a soldier than a courtier, rose not to corporal. After this repulse of the cavalry, we passed through the ravine, and moved towards the road that passes over the bending of the hill. The light infantry companies of the brigade, under the command of Major Cowel, were skirmishing in front. The major was severely wounded, and carried to the rear.
"The hill rises rather abruptly on the east side of the road, and slopes gradually towards the north side, to which our advance was directed, in order to turn the enemy's right, which had fallen back as we advanced. There is a small village consisting of one street on that brow of the hill towards the north, upon which the enemy was driven back, and from this kept up a destructive fire of musketry from garden walls, windows, and loopholes. Our regiment was ordered to drive him from that annoying post, which I may say had now become the right of his position. The bearer of this order was Lieutenant Innes, who was then acting brigade-major to Sir D. Pack; he preceded the regiment, and may be said to have led it on. The word of command to advance at the charge was received with loud animating cheers.
"No movement in the field is made with greater confidence of success than that of the charge; it affords little time for thinking, while it creates a fearless excitement, and tends to give a fresh impulse to the blood of the advancing soldier, rouses his courage, strengthens every nerve, and drowns every fear of danger or of death; thus emboldened, amidst the deafening shouts that anticipate victory, he rushes on and mingles with the flying foe.
"In an instant the village was in our possession, and the fugitives were partly intercepted by the advance of the second division of the army, under Lord Hill, which had passed the Pau above Orthez, and was now approaching round the east end of the heights.
"The enemy, thus dispossessed of his last position of any importance, commenced a hasty retreat through some enclosed fields and young plantations, through which his columns directed their course, until impeded by intersecting ditches which induced them to take the main road; there the ranks were broken, confusion ensued, and a complete rout was the consequence.
"Fortunately for them the sun was nearly set, and although the pursuit continued for several miles, they succeeded in keeping the lead, and having reassembled during the night, continued their retreat towards the Adour.
"The loss of the regiment in this battle was four officers, six sergeants, and eighty-eight rank and file. We left behind us our dead, our dying, and our wounded; the former careless who shut those eyes that looked up to heaven from their gory bed, or who should consign their naked limbs to a grave in the field of a strange land. Night suspended hostilities, and the army bivouacked in columns on the fields bordering the road leading to St. Severe.
"Night after a battle is always glorious to the undisputed victors; they draw close to one another to hear and tell of the hazards of the day, while some show the petty prizes snatched off the field, and curse some inter-meddling satrap that would not let them linger behind to get a better. The batmen and baggage-guard join the jocund circles round the camp-fires, and exhibit some full canteens of wine, the hastily snatched spoil of the day, or the plunder of some poultry-house, baker's oven, or farmer's pantry, no less acceptable to men long used to mouldy ship biscuit and scanty fare than silver or gold would have been to those who experienced no want.
"Midnight shuts our eyes in welcome slumber, and nought is heard to break the awful stillness that prevails, save the tinkling of the mule-bells and the tread of a silent soldier round the expiring embers of a camp-fire."
The pursuit of the enemy after Orthez witnessed some wild and some amusing scenes:—
"On the 28th we advanced on the road leading to St. Severe, our cavalry in front pursuing and harassing the enemy's rear, and making a number of his stragglers prisoners. Many of these were deeply gashed by sabre wounds, and, being unable to get on so fast as the escorts urged, they fell down by the roadside faint from loss of blood, or panting with thirst, frequently soliciting a little water to cool their parched tongues. It is but justice to say that the British soldier attended to their appeals and relieved them when in his power so to do, and sympathised as much for them as if they had never fired a shot at him.
"We halted this day about three leagues from St. Severe, where the road is crossed by a considerable stream. A considerable quantity of vine-supporters lay scattered in bundles contiguous to our regiment's camp ground, and dry wood being always a desirable article for those who had the culinary duties to perform, a general charge was made in order to secure a quantity before the other regiments came to the knowledge of it.
"Our colonel had just dismounted, and was about to proceed to a farmhouse adjoining to stable his horse, when the sudden rush of the men, after having piled their arms and thrown down their knapsacks, attracted his attention. He gazed upon them with astonishment, hesitated a moment, and asked one of the guard the cause of so sudden a movement. This soon discovered itself, for the men were loaded with armsful of sticks, and rejoicing over their booty and good luck, anticipating the comfortable warmth it would afford during the drizzly night. Sir Denis Pack had taken up his quarters in the farmhouse, or was supposed to have done so, and nothing was more likely than that he would take an interest in protecting the owner's property. The colonel, whether in dread of the general, or a mistaken sense of justice, called out to the marauders, as he was pleased to call them, to carry back their burdens. Some obeyed, others dropped them at their feet, and a few less obedient persisted in bringing them along; but the whole seemed rather unwilling to comply. The colonel, dissatisfied at the apathy displayed in obeying his orders, darted among the offenders and personally chastised those who seemed the most reluctant to obey.
"Among the most refractory of those wood foragers were two men of singular dispositions; their names were Henderson and Doury. The former was a contradictory, obstinate, careless, awkward fellow. His visage was long, his lips thick, his mouth always open, and, to use a Scotch term, slavering. His feet were flat-soled, without any spring, and he marched like a wearied pedlar under a pack, jolting along the road. He had not seen much service, but, like many old soldiers, he had much to say—he was nicknamed 'the Gomeral.' Doury was a silly, good-natured simpleton, the butt of every man's jest, yet no jester himself; for, when excited, his utterance failed so far that it was little else than a breathless gibbering of inarticulate sounds. Such another couple was not in the regiment, or perhaps in the brigade, and would not be accepted of for the service in time of peace. Those two were bringing in their burdens notwithstanding the interdiction, and had entered the field on which the colonel was standing. The colonel, observing that Henderson led the other on, strode hastily forward to enforce obedience. Doury was the first to observe him, fled past his companion, dropped the sticks at his feet, and escaped. Not so Henderson: he fell over the bundle dropped at his feet, with his face pressed against the soft, miry field; the colonel overtook him as he recovered, seized him by the kilt, the pins of which yielded to the tug, and left his naked flesh to some merited chastisement. This excited bursts of laughter from all the men, and the poor fellow afterwards declared that he was more vexed at the laughter than hurt by the punishment."
War is a rough school, and under its hard experiences all the finery of an army quickly vanishes. Colours fade, feathers moult, bright metals turn rusty, uniforms grow ragged, and the once "smart" army becomes, from the tailor's point of view, a thing to weep over or to shudder at. Here is a picture of a gallant army in rags and sandals:—
"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 their coats mended with grey cloth, others had the one-half of the sleeve of a different colour from the body; and their trousers were in equally as bad a condition as their coats.
"The 42nd, 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 our 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 or, as we termed it, to pad the hoof. 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 keeping in rank, and sometimes mixed with other corps in front and rear. To put a stop to this irregularity, the men without shoes were formed by themselves and marched, under the command of officers and non-commissioned officers, in rear of the brigade.
"It is impossible to describe the painful state that some of those shoeless men were in, crippling along the way, their feet cut or torn by sharp stones or brambles. To remedy the want of shoes, the raw hides of the newly-slaughtered bullocks were given to cut up, on purpose to form a sort of buskins for the bare-footed soldiers. This served as a substitute for shoes, and enabled the wearers to march in the ranks of their respective companies.
"Our knapsacks were also by this time beginning to display, from their torn ends, their worthless contents; and as our line of march was in an opposite direction from our expected supplies, our exterior appearance was daily getting worse; but the real spirit of the soldier was improving, and I make little doubt but we would have followed our leaders to the extremity of Europe without grumbling. We were getting hardier and stronger every day in person; the more we suffered, the more confidence we felt in our strength; all in health, and no sickness. The man in patched clothes and a piece of untanned hide about his feet, when he looked around him, saw others in some respects as ill appointed as himself; and he almost felt a pride in despising any new-comer with dangling plumes, plaited or crimped frills, white gloves, and handsome shoes—all good-for-nothing frippery to the hardy, toil-worn soldier, the man of flint, powder, and steel, as he thought himself. His was the gloveless hand and the shoeless foot that braved alike the cold and the heat, the toil of the field and the fatigue of the march; nothing came wrong to him; he started in the morning from his hard pillow and harder bed, required no time to blacken his shoes, but braced up his knapsack, regardless of the state of the roads or weather, and was ready to march off.
"I have already mentioned that there was some skirmishing with the enemy this day, as we advanced. Here we had three men killed and several wounded. One of those who were killed had been doing the duty of pioneer previous to this day; doubtless he had considered this a degrading duty, and had pressingly requested to be permitted to join the ranks. His request was granted; this was his first entry on the field since he obtained that indulgence, and here he fell. He lay on the field adjoining the road; some one had rifled his knapsack, but had thrown the blanket over him. Having the general's baggage in charge I was following the brigade with the guard and the mules when I observed some soldiers examining to what regiment the killed belonged; one bore off the knapsack, but left the blanket carelessly cast on the corpse, a batman was making a prize of the blanket, and a Portuguese muleteer was about to take off the kilt.
"I could be at no loss to know to what regiment he belonged, as the 42nd was the only corps in the division that had that dress, and I desired one of the guard to recover the blanket, and to spread it over the body, for we had no time to inter it. He sprang on the spoilers in an instant, snatched the blanket from the batman, and seizing the muleteer rather roughly, tumbled him into the ditch that lined the road; then, spreading the blanket over the corpse, left it; but doubtless to be soon stripped again. Thus falls the poor soldier."