MEMOIRS
OF
THE LATE WAR.
VOL. II.

The United Service Journal
AND
NAVAL AND MILITARY MAGAZINE.

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MEMOIRS
OF
THE LATE WAR:
COMPRISING
THE PERSONAL NARRATIVE OF
CAPTAIN COOKE,
OF THE 43rd REGIMENT LIGHT INFANTRY;
THE HISTORY OF THE CAMPAIGN OF 1809
IN PORTUGAL,
BY THE EARL OF MUNSTER;
AND A NARRATIVE OF
THE CAMPAIGN OF 1814 IN HOLLAND,
BY LIEUT. T. W. D. MOODIE, H. P. 21ST FUSILEERS.

IN TWO VOLUMES.
VOL. II.
LONDON:
HENRY COLBURN AND RICHARD BENTLEY,
NEW BURLINGTON STREET.
1831.

CONTENTS
OF THE SECOND VOLUME.

CONCLUSION OF CAPTAIN COOKE'S NARRATIVE.

MEMOIRS
OF
CAPTAIN COOKE.

CHAPTER I.

Dwellings and habits of the farming classes in Navarre—Military quarters—The Author obtains leave to proceed to St. Sebastian as a spectator of the assault—Situation of that city, and appearance of the breaches—Groups collected from the neighbouring parts to witness the storming—Advance of the "forlorn hope," and death of Lieut. Mac Guire—Critical situation of the attacking troops—Seasonable measure adopted by General Graham—Effect produced by the heavy artillery—Destructive explosion among the French—Capture of the city after continued difficulties.

In Navarre the quintas are constructed with projecting roofs, and are two stories high: the second floors are encircled by wooden galleries, adorned with creeping vines, hanging over in festoons, which give these dwellings a most picturesque appearance. The numerous fertile valleys produce wheat, rye, barley, maize, pulse, and apples which make very tolerable cider.

When on picquet, we passed whole days in the houses of the small farmers, (who speak the Basque language;) and although these dwellings lay between the hostile armies, they were not damaged, nor the corn or orchards cut down; yet, for leagues in every other direction, all the small fields of Indian corn had been torn up by the very roots, and carried off.

Owing to this latter circumstance, many of the peasantry became impoverished, and were obliged to content themselves with very scanty fare; their bread was made of Indian corn, which they mixed up into a cake, an inch thick, and then put it into a frying pan, which was repeatedly turned, until its contents were about half baked; this operation being completed, the whole family formed a circle; the cake was then broken into pieces, and handed to each individual, so hot that they would shift it from hand to hand, making all sorts of wry faces; this frugal supper being concluded, a large brass cauldron was filled with tepid water, in which the elder of the family first bathed his feet, and then the others, according to seniority, until all, in rotation, performed the same cleanly ablution, which was never omitted before retiring to rest.

While on the position of Santa Barbara, or whenever in the vicinity of the enemy, it was customary to turn out an hour before daybreak, and for the troops to stand to their arms until objects at a short distance became visible. On these mountains we were terribly annoyed by the toads. Many officers possessed mattresses or covers, (the latter being usually stuffed with dried fern,) but if they happened to be left in the tent two or three days without removing, or taken out to dry, which was often the case, owing to heavy rains or dense fogs, we were sure to find one or two bloated speckled toads under them, as large in circumference as a small dessert plate.

Towards the end of the month, we could distinctly hear the heavy thundering of the battery cannon at St. Sebastian, and an order was issued for the first, fourth, and light divisions to send a certain number of volunteers, to assist the fifth division in storming the breaches at that place, as soon as they should be considered practicable.

By some mistake, we were informed that two officers were to proceed from our regiment with the volunteers; accordingly Lieut. John O'Connell and myself offered our services, and marched off and formed with the rest of the volunteers of the division, in front of General Alten's quarters, which was about a league in rear of our encampment; but as more officers had proffered their services than the proper quota, I, amongst the rest, made a surplus, and Lieut. O'Connell, being my senior, remained. This officer had formed one of the storming party at Ciudad Rodrigo, and at Badajoz, where he was badly wounded, a ball having passed in at the top of his shoulder and came out at the elbow joint: he was ultimately killed on the sanguinary breach of St. Sebastian. Lieut.-Col. Hunt, of the 52nd, took the command of the volunteers of the division. Major W. Napier had also volunteered, but not being required on this occasion, both he and myself returned to camp.

On the following day, myself and three other officers obtained permission to proceed across the mountain to be spectators of the assault. The weather was extremely fine, and we enjoyed a tranquil ride over the mountains, many of which were entirely covered with oak trees, aromatic plants, fern, and evergreens. For more than two leagues there was scarcely a house to be seen. The day being far advanced before we left our camp, darkness overtook us, and, on making enquiries at a cottage, we were informed, by a peasant, that there was an encampment at a short distance, which we soon discovered to the right of the road, and found it to be the 85th light infantry, just arrived from England. We received a hearty welcome, besides aguardiénte y vino tinto, and then wrapping our cloaks around about us, we enjoyed a few hours repose in Major Ferguson's tent.

At daybreak we went on our way through an open, hilly, and sandy country, towards St. Sebastian, and in a few hours took post in the trenches cut through the sand banks, on the right bank of the river Urumea, and within six hundred yards of the town, which stands near the river, or rather on a small peninsula, between two arms of the sea. The place consisted of twenty streets, besides churches, convents, and monasteries; and is enclosed on three sides by ramparts, bastions, and half-moons. The castle is built on the top of a bare rock, and overlooking the sea; the entrance of the harbour, on the west side, is between two moles, and is capable of containing a few small vessels.

During our stay in the trenches, just below a mortar battery, the enemy hardly fired a shot from the fortress, in the walls of which were two breaches eighty yards asunder. The principal and wide-mouthed breach had crumbled into a vast mound of sand, rubbish, and broken masonry. A breach is indeed an awful mound of dilapidation to look on, or rather a heap of disagreeable rubbish, particles of which sparkle brightly in the sun beams, while the whole seems to the amateur easy of ascent, but the wary veteran knows it to be a deceitful slope, re-entrenched from behind, and most probably cut off from all communication with the interior of the town. Well may it be called "the deadly breach:" all fighting is bad enough, but when the valiant soldier sees insurmountable obstacles before him, and finds all his efforts unavailing, and death jostling him on every side, his foot, perhaps, planted on the body of an expiring comrade, whose bleeding mouth is filled with dust, and whose trampled uniform at last becomes identified with the rubbish, and the human form no longer distinguishable; and every instant the heap of the slain accumulating, without any possibility of carrying the place,—then, indeed, comes the "tug of war;" for, as a distinguished officer very justly observed, "A breach may be made the strongest part of a fortification, since every combustible, and power of defence, are brought to a known focus."

Having remained in the trenches a considerable time, we made for the small town of Renteria, where we put up, with two convalescent officers of our own corps, until the next day.

On the 31st the morning broke hazy. Meanwhile before starting for St. Sebastian, we were introduced to Lieutenant Folliet, a young officer of our regiment, who had just come from England for the first time; he expressed much regret at not being able to witness the assault, as he very properly considered it incorrect to leave his detachment, which was ordered to march that morning for Bera. This circumstance I mention, owing to the premature death of this officer.

At half-past ten o'clock, a. m., we took post within cannon range of the ramparts of St. Sebastian, immediately overlooking the river Urumea. The troops of the fifth division were already formed in the trenches cut across the isthmus, within a short distance of the body of the place, ready to move forward as soon as the tide should be sufficiently low to admit of a passage. It was so well known that the assault was to take place, that numerous inhabitants had flocked from the adjacent towns and villages, dressed in their holiday attire, and were already seated on the hill which commanded a panoramic view of the town. Many of the women were clothed in dresses of English calico, and in fact composed a motley group and mixture in dress and appearance, such as I had never before seen in Spain. Two pretty Spanish girls were seated on the slope of the hill, and offered us some of their sugar drops, whereupon we thought we might as well place ourselves beside them as elsewhere. A few minutes before the troops moved to the assault, all within the town seemed tranquil; no noise issued from its walls, nor was a single French soldier visible on the ramparts.

Soon after eleven o'clock, the "forlorn hope," headed by Lieut. Mac Guire of the 4th regiment, sprang out of the trenches, followed by the storming party, and a brigade of the fifth division;[¹] but, owing to the difficulty of extricating themselves from the trenches, and to their extreme ardour, they ran towards the great breach, discharging their fire arms to the left, to keep down the musketry of the enemy, who galled them by a terrible flanking fire from a bastion which projected nearly parallel, and enfiladed their left flank while moving towards the breach.

Lieut. Mac Guire wore a cocked-hat, with a long white feather, to make himself conspicuous. He was a remarkably handsome young man, active of limb, well-made, and possessing a robust frame. He ran forward, amid projectiles and a shower of bullets, with such speed that only two soldiers could manage to keep within five or six yards behind him; and he actually jumped over the broken masonry, at the foot of the breach, before he fell. In a moment afterwards he was hid from our view by the column bounding over his body,[²] to climb the breach. They had no sooner gained the crest of the breach, than they found the enemy strongly entrenched at each flank of the terre-plein of the rampart and the interior slope, composed of a scarped wall, nearly thirty feet deep, so that the brave soldiers who mounted the breach fell a sacrifice to their valour, by an overwhelming cross-fire.

The enemy had cleared away the rubbish some feet from a round tower, nearly in the centre, and on the crest of the great breach, which they maintained, and it was from this apparently trifling and unbreached spot that the troops sustained their principal loss—standing up to their knees in rubbish, and losing their lives without any probability of success. As the French, however, could not well fire on their left flank without hanging over the parapet, our soldiers were enabled to keep their station on the slope of the breach, at the expense of a great number of officers and men. Had the enemy been able to flank the slope of the breach, all the troops must have been annihilated. The slaughter, however, was so great, as to cause the most serious apprehension, and the wounded and dying were suffering dreadfully, and languishing in the most horrible torments, for want of water, without being again able to regain the trenches, owing to the cross-fire of musketry through which they had to run the gauntlet while advancing to the assault. With the exception of the guns in the castle, the enemy hardly fired any artillery from the walls, either from their being principally dismounted, or that they were unable to depress them sufficiently to do much execution. At this time hardly a word escaped the lips of the astonished spectators; and many of the women were drowned in tears at so doleful a spectacle.

At twelve o'clock General Graham, seeing affairs in this desperate state, ordered the guns from the batteries to open, to oblige the enemy to keep down, and to shield the troops for a short time, from their fatal bullets, and to give them a little breathing time, so as to enable the wounded who could yet walk to regain the trenches. The fire from the batteries was terrific, and the troops retired four or five yards down the slope of the breach, while the heavy shot passed over their heads, skimming the round tower, the ramparts and the crest of the breach with a precision truly astonishing, so that the enemy could not show their heads, or discharge a single firelock. Never was artillery better served, or opened at a more seasonable moment; and without doubt this was one of the principal causes of carrying the day; for indeed, had it not been for this seasonable relief, the troops must have been inevitably sacrificed by piecemeal. The volumes of smoke arose in dense clouds, and the reverberation was amazing. The iron balls rattled into the devoted town, unroofing the houses, knocking up the dust and rubbish, and thundering against the walls with a tremendous crash, as if the ramparts were cracking and every stone broken, and the whole tumbling into a mass of ruins. All the edifices seemed tottering to the very foundations, and it was as though every living creature within were about to be swallowed up in the vortex and buried amid the utter desolation.

When first the assault took place, the sun shone forth brilliantly; it was now twelve o'clock, and the clouds blackened and gathered together, foreboding the coming storm.

The blazing of the heavy artillery lasted more than half an hour, during which time General Graham let loose the volunteers and the reserve of the fifth division against the large breach and adamantine round tower. The Spanish girls near us ejaculated (while shedding a few pearly tears, and unfolding the little papers containing their sugar-drops,) "pobre Sebastiano! pobre Sebastiano!" We asked them why they did not say, poor soldiers,—"Oh si, si," answered they, "pobres soldados tambien!"

As soon as the fire of the heavy calibre had ceased, fresh efforts were made against the breach, and the sharp fire of the deadly small arms was resumed. At half past twelve o'clock a Portuguese regiment led on by Lieutenant Colonel Snodgrass[³] moved along the sands and began to ford the river Urumea, the water at low tide being at this spot about two hundred yards in width. As soon as they reached the middle of the stream, a gun from an embrasure exactly opposite to them discharged a round of grape shot, which fell into the middle of the column, and knocked the men down in every direction: some of them sank to rise no more, others floundered in the water, and called out for help in the most pitiable manner. The enemy fired a second discharge before the Portuguese could extricate themselves from the stream, (which reached up to the hips), and again inflicted dreadful havoc in their ranks. The smoke of the last round created considerable surprise among us, as it was of a reddish colour, as if red ochre had been mixed up with the powder. The excellent and steady conduct of the 13th regiment of Portuguese was beyond all praise. Having cleared the river they closed up, moved forward and ascended the small breach, eighty yards from the larger one.

At this time we also observed part of the 85th regiment a short distance out at sea (in large boats) apparently threatening the back of the rock, on which stands the Castle of La Motta, but this threat of escalading the rocks was relinquished owing to the impracticability of such an enterprise; the troops in the breaches became fixtures as before, and no further progress towards the capturing of the fortress appeared to be made. At last I saw several soldiers quitting the large breach and running to the right to assist the Portuguese at the small one; and a brave bugler sounded the advance several times. Confused cries of assembled voices echoed from the ramparts at that point, and we could hear sounds like the battering of firelocks against doors or barricades, intermingled with occasional firing of musketry. Still, no very serious impression was visible to us.

At one o'clock a violent explosion took place on the rampart behind the French traverse to the right of the large breach, and, before the fragments blown into the air had fallen, or the smoke cleared away, the troops nobly pushed forward, and, at the same time, the crowd of spectators on the hill rose simultaneously with joy beaming on every countenance; and when the hollow sounds of the firing were heard within the interior of the town, we became satisfied that the place was taken.—The explosion was supposed to be caused by accidental sparks, or loose cartridge paper falling on the train. Probably no one living knows the real cause. However, all the French soldiers near the spot were blown into the air, and fell singed and blackened in all directions; and the dead soldiers lay so thick on the slope of the breach that it looked, to the naked eye, as if the mass of troops were still stationary.

Soon after, we saw the French issuing from the town, and firing down upon the British troops from behind some old walls running in zig zags up the castle hill. There cannot be a shadow of doubt that the place would not have been carried, had it not been for the decision of General Graham, who, persisting in a constant attack to the last, kept the troops in that honorable post to take advantage of any contingencies that might chance to throw open the door to victory.

The enemy lost seven hundred men, prisoners taken in the town, who were unable to reach the castle. The fifth division and the volunteers from the British army lost two thousand men and officers killed and wounded; amongst the latter Generals Leith, Oswald and Robinson were wounded, and Colonel Fletcher commanding the engineers was killed by a musket ball, just before the assault took place.

At half past one p.m. a heavy mist began to fall, which caused us to bend our course towards Renteria, and, before we reached half a league, the rain descended in torrents; but none had fallen during the storming of the breaches.

[1] The fifth division led the attack, not the volunteers from the army.

[2] He was killed. I knew him intimately; he possessed naturally gentle manners, with a soldier-like deportment.

[3] The Portuguese troops forded the river Urumea directly after the firing of the cannon ceased from the English batteries; and the great explosion to the right of the large breach, (to the left of the breach as we looked towards it,) did not happen until half an hour after this event. It cannot, therefore, be said that our artillery caused that explosion.

CHAPTER II.

The Duke of Dalmatia crosses the Bidassoa—Sharp contest at the heights of St. Marzial and the Bridge of Bera—Touching scene witnessed by the Author on his way to rejoin his division at Santa Barbara—A present from England—Passage of the Bidassoa by the English troops on the 6th of October—Active fighting—The French driven over the mountains into their own territory—Delights of good quarters after hard work—Reconnoitring—Habits and condition of the Spanish soldiery—A mock fight—Military pastimes—Preparations for the invasion of France.

On the same day that the assault of St. Sebastian took place, the Duke of Dalmatia, with the right wing of his army, crossed the Bidassoa, opposite to the heights of St. Marzial, and another division forded the river two hundred yards below Bera (under cover of the high rock, which rises abruptly over the west end of the town) and immediately moved forward to attack the heights above the village of Salines, occupied by part of the seventh division, with whom and the Portuguese the enemy were engaged the greater part of the day. The French repeatedly endeavoured to climb the heights of St. Marzial without effect. The ascent was so difficult, that the Spaniards had little more to do than to deliver their fire, by which they managed, in the presence of Field-marshal the Marquis of Wellington, to beat the enemy.

The French marshal, when he saw his soldiers giving way and plunging into the Bidassoa, became perfectly furious, for, owing to this unsuccessful attack, the French above Salines were obliged to grope their way down the uneven and slippery mountain, in search of the ford which they had previously crossed (in the morning) in good order, and in the highest spirits. When, however, they now reached the river after exceeding toil and in total darkness, they found it so swollen, owing to the floods from the mountains, that they could not attempt to cross it. The wind howled fiercely; the roaring torrents, and vast bodies of water, poured down the sides of the mountains, rocks and water courses, swelling the river into an overwelming flood, which rushed through the narrow arches of the bridge of Bera, with irresistible fury. In short, a perfect hurricane raged over the mountains, and swept throughout the valleys, in boisterous whirlwinds, that carried away in their fearful blasts branches of trees, and bellowed furiously over the tops of the forests.

During this awful convulsion of the elements, a few stragglers of the French division succeeded in overpowering a corporal's picquet, and rushed over the bridge of Bera; but a company of the second battalion of rifle corps, which occupied the shell of a house, immediately forced them to recross the bridge. Again the enemy several times attempted to cross the bridge at the pas de charge, but were as often beaten back by the well-plied bullets of the rifles; and, strange to relate, this picquet and the French division continued engaged within five hundred yards of the French post above Bera, and not more than twice the distance from the second brigade of the light division which occupied the rising ground in front of the debouché of San Estevan,—the first brigade having crossed to the left bank of Bidassoa on the previous day, in support of the seventh division. When too late, another company arrived to their assistance; but morning dawned and the odds were too great; the captain commanding, when in the act of mounting his horse, was shot through the body, and the French rushed across the bridge. This was a most extraordinary fight, while the storm was so tremendous that the musketry could hardly be heard; and neither the French nor the English army gave an effectual helping hand to their comrades during this wild contest.

On the morning of the 1st of September we started from Renteria, to return to our division, and had only travelled a short distance when we met and questioned some wounded Spaniards, who gave a very vague account of the fighting on the preceding day, and all that we could extract from them was "Oh! señores mucho combate ayer." We pursued the rugged road, and met an English soldier, who told us that there had been some sharp fighting all along the ridge of the mountains on the left of the Bidassoa; but he could not inform us whether the enemy had advanced or retired. This piece of intelligence made it advisable to keep a sharp look-out. We soon, however, met Lieutenant-Colonel Gordon, one of the General-in-Chiefs aides-de-camp, who gave us every information, and told us that the road of communication was now quite open to Bera.

Having travelled another league, we arrived, by a wild and crooked road, at the summit of a mountain covered with oak trees, where we saw a soldier of our regiment standing by the side of a goatherd's roofless hut, who told us that his master, Lieut. Folliet, had been mortally wounded four hours after we had taken leave of him on the previous day. A body of the enemy had pushed through the forest beyond the left flank of a brigade of the seventh division, and, rushing furiously through the wood towards the little detachment with loud shouts, and a rattling fusillade, had succeeded in scattering these young soldiers. On entering the hut, we saw the youthful sufferer, deadly pale, lying on his back, with his uniform, sash, sword and cap, died in blood and strewed about on the loose stones or rock, which formed the floor of the miserable hut. On seeing us, he extended his hand, and a momentary gleam of joy passed across his pallid features, as he mildly informed us that he was dying from a wound in the abdomen, which had caused him excruciating torture until mortification had ensued. He was quite resigned to his fate, and begged that we would not give way to melancholy, for that he was quite happy, and only hoped we thought he had done his duty; that the only grief he felt was from not having seen the regiment, the summit of all his ambition—before he expired. In a few hours he was no more; and having been enveloped in a blanket, he was interred under the wide-spreading branches of an oak tree, by the side of the ruined hut.

Little at that time did my three companions anticipate that, before the expiration of three months, two of them would be buried in regions equally inhospitable. Lieut. Baillie was shot through the head, Captain Murchison in the groin, and Lieut. James Considine was dangerously wounded.

In the evening we rejoined our brigade, which had returned to Santa Barbara, when we felt considerable pleasure in hearing they had not been engaged during our five days' absence.

During the month of September, the enemy worked hard in sawing and felling timber to form abattis, and in constructing entrenchments. The right and left of our own army were employed in a similar manner.

Towards the end of the month, I observed one of my messmates winding along the crest of the mountain, on his way from England, having recovered from a terrible wound. Our joy at meeting was very great; his at finding me still in the land of the living, and mine at seeing an old friend, whom, when last we parted, I never cherished the hope of meeting again.

The baggage being unpacked, his soldier servant, who had accompanied him, came up with a good-tempered smile; and, while unfolding a dingy pocket handkerchief, intimated that he had brought me a present from England. "Well! what is it?" said I, my curiosity being somewhat excited; but he continued to unfold his offering, wrapped in layers of paper, without making any express reply, and at length brought forth a piece of bread, which he had taken from a dinner table in England. This he handed to me, certainly in a very mouldy state, owing to the length of the voyage, but the compliment was equally appreciated. I thanked him for his kind recollection of me, and ate it on the spot.

On the 6th of October, it was intimated that the enemy were to be attacked on the following morning; such information, however, made no difference either in our conversation or reflexions.

This day Lieut. Fry,[⁴] of the rifle corps, dined with us. The soup was made with bullocks' tails; the spiced minced-meat was of bullocks' heads, and the third course consisted of a bullock's heart.

Soon after dark an orderly entered the tent, and informed me that I was ordered to descend into the valley before daylight, with a reinforcement to the picquet, destined to begin the attack on the morrow. "Ah, now that is very strange," ejaculated one of the party; "for last night I dreamed that you (meaning myself) were killed skirmishing up the opposite mountain." I returned thanks to him for this pleasant piece of intelligence.

On reaching the valley, at the appointed hour, before daybreak, I found the officers of the company in a profound slumber, stretched on the floor, and the commander lying on a table in a small farm-house; but, as I had no inclination to sleep, I stirred up the dying embers of the wood fire, and purposely made so much noise, that I thoroughly aroused the sleepers into a conversational mood; and one of them announced the pleasing information, that he could supply us with coffee,—which was carefully boiled in a pipkin, and which we partook of with considerable zest, to fortify our stomachs for the morning combat.

The passage of the river Bidassoa began at daylight, by the extreme left of the army, personally directed by Field-marshal Wellington. The fifth division crossed near the mouth of the river, and the first division began the attack early in the morning. Lord Aylmer's brigade, and a corps of Spaniards, also forded the river at various places, covered by some pieces of cannon stationed on the heights of St. Marzial. Here a sharp contest took place, particularly against the fifth division, while ascending the steeps, and difficult mountains. The enemy, being attacked at so many points at once, by the various fords, were outflanked right and left, and were finally beaten off this tremendous range of mountains: the fourth division were in reserve behind Bera, and also deployed on the heights of Santa Barbara, to support the light division.

An hour after daylight, the whole of the picquets of the light division in front of Bera, first began the attack of a detached ridge, called the Boar's Back, from its jagged summit. It was necessary to carry this before the division could debouch through the town of Bera, for the attack of the main position, covered by forts and abattis. The 3rd rifles began to skirmish up one end of the Boar's Back, and we on the other; it was only defended by a small body of French troops, and was speedily carried.

The second brigade, under Sir John Colborne, began a sharp attack on a great tongue of the mountain, which sloped down towards Bera; but the first effort proved unsuccessful against a square fort, which the enemy held with great resolution, and not only beat off the attack, but in their turn sallied from the works, and drove, with the bayonet, numbers of the assailants over the rugged precipices.

At this critical moment, the 52d regiment, being in reserve, advanced in column, and bore against the stragglers in such good order, that they not only pushed them back, but drove them pell-mell into the fort on one side, and out at the other; in fact, they appeared literally to walk over the entrenchment. I had an admirable view of this affair from the top of the rock already carried, and from which it was necessary to descend before we could ascend the principal ridge.

The second brigade continued to advance; but the ground was so difficult, that at every step they met with a severe loss, in killed and wounded. At the end of three hours, when they had nearly gained the summit of the mountain, the enemy rolled (from a strong entrenchment) large stones down upon them, and by this mode of warfare, with a sprinkling of balls, kept them at bay for a considerable time.

In the meantime the first brigade, under General Sir James Kempt, had pushed through Bera to support the skirmishers, who moved parallel, with the second brigade, or rather branched off by degrees a little to the right, and engaged the enemy up the mountain leading into France. The obstacles on each side of the way rendered the mountain fearfully difficult of ascent; and it was, indeed, so intersected with rocks, trees, brushwood, and prickly briars, that our hands and limbs were pierced with thorns, and the trousers were literally torn in shreds from off our legs. When half way up the mountain, we emerged from the entangling thicket, fatigued and deluged with perspiration, and found the enemy plying bullets from a small fort. As soon as a sufficient number of men could be scraped together, we gained possession of that post by a charge of the bayonet: from thence we overlooked a very small field, enclosed by rocks, wherefrom the enemy, consisting of three or four hundred men, could no longer extricate themselves, and fell into our hands, or, more properly speaking, were left in a trap, in a valley between the first and second brigades. These captives may be fairly ascribed as prisoners to the first brigade, since they were within point blank of us, and not within a mile of the second brigade, who did not discharge a single shot at them, but on the contrary had quite enough to do, independently of that affair, in clearing the ground of the enemy opposed to them, from whom they took three pieces of cannon, which were abandoned in the entrenchments.

After three hours' toil and clambering from rock to rock, we arrived within two hundred yards of the summit of the puerta de Bera, which was defended by a few hundred of the enemy; the remainder of their face was extended in order to oppose the second brigade, and to the right, along the wooded ridge, as far as the rock of la Rhune, distant about two miles from the extreme right of our division, to oppose the Spaniards. The rolling of musketry was now incessant on all sides.

It was here I saw the remarkable death of one of the rifle corps, who had killed a French soldier, and who, before he had taken his rifle from the level, received a ball through his body, which caused him such excruciating agony, that his face was all at once distorted, his eyes rolled, and his lips, blackened with the biting of cartridges, convulsively opened. His teeth were tightly clenched; his arms and legs were thrown into an extended position, and he held out his rifle, grasped at arm's length, and remained stationary in this extraordinary attitude for a few moments, until he dropped down dead, as suddenly as if struck by a flash of lightning.

As soon as the skirmishers had gained the top of the mountain, Sir James Kempt rode up amongst the flying bullets, and expressed his approbation of all that had been done; for the skirmishers alone had grouped into a compact body, and forced the pass at the point of the bayonet, and the French were now running in all directions. To attempt to express our boundless delight at the grandeur and extreme beauty of the surrounding scenery would be impossible. Behind us lay the prodigious mountains and gloomy fastnesses of the Pyrenees, whose rocks, cast in nature's roughest mould, towered one above another as far as the eye could reach. To the north, the dark blue waters of the tranquil ocean glittered in the sun beams; and various distant white sails skirted the remote horizon. Beneath us lay the supposed sacred fields of France, the towns of Bayonne and St. Jean de Luz, the rivers Nivelle, Nive, Adour, and innumerable tributary streams, which laced and meandered near vine-clad hills, through verdant valleys, whose banks were decorated with a luxuriant foliage; whilst the country was studded with countless spires of churches and red-topped villages, chateaux, farm-houses, and rural white cottages, enclosed by gardens, and shrouded by fruit trees and plantations.

The Spaniards made several attempts to climb the mountain of la Rhune, crowned by a tremendous bare rock, which rose in frowning majesty above their heads. They endeavoured to hide beneath the various shelving rocks, or behind the forest trees, from the dreadful effects of the fragments of rock, or loose stones, hurled down upon them by the enemy, and which bounded with a terrific crash into the deep valleys.

The General quitted the skirmishers at the top of the puerta de Bera, to bring up the reserves; but our enthusiasm was so great at the idea of taking possession of French ground, which seemed more than a compensation for all our Spanish toils, that three hundred of us descended the pass of the mountain, and pursued the enemy for a league and a half into France, where, to the left, we could distinguish the French columns retreating from Hendaye, and various other points, whence they were driven by the left of our army in the greatest confusion, and were countermarching round the unfinished batteries in front of St. Jean de Luz, and, in a hurried manner, pointing their cannon towards the various roads, and other debouchés leading respectively to them.

The various farm-houses were deserted by the inhabitants, who left their doors wide open, as if to invite the ravenous invaders to help themselves. Here we spent the day in rural delight, on the top of a pretty green hill, encircled by orchards, on which we built a hut, and tied a pocket-handkerchief to a twig by way of a flag, within a mile of the enemy. A thousand gratifying reflections here arose in our minds, and enlivened our occupations; while the contented soldiers of Spain, with arms in their hands, brought us wines, fruits, and other delicacies, without having committed one outrageous act, or despoiling the property of the peaceable inhabitants, further than helping themselves to the excellent rations of goose, turkey and hams, already cooked, and preserved in hogs' lard; added to which, there was a plentiful supply of nice soft bread, which afforded us a most excellent repast.

The day having closed on this fête champêtre, we kindled a few extra fires, re-formed, and re-trod our way to the top of the pass in time for supper. The first brigade had taken possession of the boarded and well-roofed huts, constructed by the French with the utmost regularity, as if they had anticipated the occupation of them during the approaching winter. My messmates had already made themselves quite at home in one of them, and the cook was busily employed in roasting a nice piece of beef, which had been extracted out of a little cavity, dug by the late occupier, to keep it fresh and cool, no doubt for some contemplated feast. While partaking of this delicious morceau, we failed not to remember the original provider, the French officer; while he, less fortunate, most probably spent the night in a cold bivouac, or under a gun, in the entrenchments near St. Jean de Luz.

During the whole night the fatigue parties continued to arrive from Santa Barbara, with their knapsacks, which had been left there;[⁵] and also carrying, in blankets or in bearers, the wretched wounded soldiers, whom they had discovered, by their groans, amongst chasms, cavities, or beneath the prickly briars on the broken sides of the mountains. Many unfortunate soldiers had fallen into deep ravines or hollows; and their dead bodies were subsequently discovered by those who accidentally wandered off the beaten tracts amongst these difficult acclivities.

The right wing of the army in their turn demonstrated during the combat of the 7th, guarding the mountains from Echalar to Roncesvalles; while the left wing, after the combat, held the ridge from the rock of la Rhune (which the enemy evacuated on the 8th), to the Bay of Biscay; which totally dispossessed the right of the French army from the mountains of Commissari, Mandale, and the height of Hendaye. As soon as the French had evacuated the mountain of la Rhune, the first brigade of our division moved to its right, and encamped in a forest within half a mile of its base. The second brigade took our post at the puerta de Bera.

In the middle of October the weather became cold and dismal, and the rains poured down in torrents. The Spaniards having seized a fort, in the French territory, in the valley below the pass of Echalar, the enemy one night retook it, by a coup de main, putting many of the Spaniards to death before they could recover from their surprise, or even put on their accoutrements. A desultory skirmish however continued the whole of the following day by the Spaniards, who seemed particularly attached to this mode of warfare, although the French evidently gained ground; which circumstance forced five companies of our regiment to take post on the rock to prevent the French from following the Spaniards to the top, and driving them from it. Night put an end to these long shots, and this waste of ammunition.

Every other day it fell to my lot to ascend this rock on duty, with a huge telescope slung on my back, to report to the General, in writing, any movements of the enemy. From this pinnacle their bivouacs might be seen from right to left. This duty was extremely disagreeable: the custom was to start at daylight from the saturated camp, attended by an orderly, and a mule loaded on one side with fire wood, and on the other with a tea kettle, provisions, and a blanket. La Rhune was bare and comfortless, and often wrapped for whole days in a chilly mist. On the east and west it was inaccessible, having only one narrow path way winding up the south; on the north side it sloped down gradually towards la Petite la Rhune being composed of tremendous overlapping slabs of rock, presenting the most desolate aspect.

One day, while on this duty, I observed a numerous retinue of French staff-officers emerge from behind la Petite la Rhune, and from their motions and gestures it was evident that they were examining the most commanding eminences for the purpose of constructing works for its defence. The whole of them were in uniform, with large cocked hats,[⁶] blue pantaloons, and boots with brown tops.

Some hundreds of Spaniards[⁷] were bivouacked round the old ruins of the hermitage at the top of this mountain, where, for want of good clothing, and owing to the cold nights, they were in the most miserable and forlorn state, and had barely a sufficiency of provisions to keep life and soul together; these necessary comforts were irregularly served out, and in such small quantities, that the cravings of hunger were seldom or ever satisfied. When they were fortunate enough to get a meal, the ceremony of eating it was very curious: the rations for twenty or thirty men were mixed in a large kettle or cauldron, round which they formed a circle and approached it, one at a time, from the right, each dipping in his spoon, and then resuming his original place, to make the most of it, until it came again to his turn. In this manner they continued to advance and retire, with the utmost circumspection, until the whole of it was consumed. Their clothing was ragged and miserable as their fare: uniforms of all countries and all the colours of the rainbow, French chakos without peaks, leather and brass helmets, rusty muskets, and belts which had never been cleaned since in their possession. Some had old brown cloaks, with empty knapsacks and hempen sandals, and others were with torn shoes and almost bare-footed.

At the solitary roll of the drum, they sometimes issued from their burrows, or cavities of the rocks like so many rabbits. One day while standing on a large slab of rock like a tomb stone, all at once, to my surprise, I felt it in motion, and on looking down perceived a slight smoke issuing from the crevices on each side, and, while stepping aside, the stone nearly gave way with me; several voices then cried out from below: "Demónio, demónio, que quiere usted!" when, springing off the ricketty foundation, to my astonishment, the slab was slowly lifted up on the heads of a dozen Spaniards, who were crouching in the cave, envelopped in the fumes of cigarras which they smoked to keep themselves warm, to drive away hunger, and to beguile the tedious hours!

Before the troops quitted this chilly region, many of the sentinels were so benumbed with cold, that they fell down with stiffened limbs, and were obliged to be carried from their posts.

One day, being as usual on the look out, I saw the French hard at work in constructing three forts on la Petite la Rhune, which were built with pieces of rock and loose stones, with incredible labour; and a long string of the enemy, by single files, reached into the valley behind the small mountain, and were traversing backwards and forwards like a swarm of ants, being employed in handing up the stones from one to the other.

In the evening another officer and myself were winding beneath the base of the rock of the great la Rhune, on our return to camp, when a large stone bounded over our heads, and on looking above, we observed an officer of our regiment, (who was on picquet,) pushing down the wall of the old ruin from the summit of the mountain, and calling out to us, in derision, to keep out of the way. Fortunately we found a projecting rock, underneath which we screened ourselves from the broken fragments that came tumbling down with nearly the velocity of cannon balls, making terrific bounds of two or three hundred yards at a time, and rolling into the distant valley with a terrible crash. We saw one piece of rock strike a tree in the forest below, and shiver the trunk asunder; and in this way our antagonist kept us prisoners until it was nearly dark, for whenever we made an effort to move, down tumbled more stones, which obliged us to run back to our hiding place. Having, at last, effected our escape, we vowed vengeance, and on meeting him (when relieved from picquet), we got our spears in readiness to put our threats into execution. These poles or spears we carried in imitation of the Basque mountaineers, to assist us up the jagged rocks; and, after long practise, we could throw them twenty or thirty yards with great velocity, and almost with unerring aim and precision. He reminded us however, of a circumstance which induced us to let him off, namely, that a party of us had nearly drowned him in the river Agueda, two years before. He was a very expert swimmer, but he annoyed those who went to bathe to such a degree, by splashing them, that one day, when he was in the middle of the river, we sallied from behind the rocks, on both banks of the river, encircled him, and gave him such a ducking, that it was with the utmost difficulty he could reach the shore, after a lesson which had induced him to behave with more gentleness for the future.

During the month of October,[⁸] our days passed tediously, and we resorted to the most simple pastimes, whenever the weather would admit of a ramble. Sometimes we fired with ball at the eagles and vultures; and at others, chased the herds of wild ponies, which browsed in the sequestered valleys of the Pyrenees. They were hardly beyond the size of wolf-dogs, and had wiry coats, and long shaggy manes and tails. It was astonishing to see these sure-footed little animals, with small heads and wild eyes, capering, prancing, and darting through the underwood, and up and down the steep acclivities.

One day a Spanish soldier brought to our camp a pretty little fat pony for sale; and after a good deal of bargaining, he sold it to our mess for twelve dollars. The following morning a Spanish officer deliberately walked up to the tree, to which our animals were tied, and to our surprise demanded his pony. We assured him we had purchased it; but as he declared it had been stolen from him, and had witnesses at hand to identify the animal, we were obliged to give it up, with the loss of our twelve dollars, for we knew not where to search for the picaro, or dispensero mayór, who had so completely jockied us. It behoved us to put up with the loss as philosophically as might be.

While the heavy rains continued, in the beginning of November, we were obliged to construct wicker-work huts, to save the horses, mules, and milch goats from perishing during the inclemency of the weather; for days together our tents were pierced by the heavy rains, and often, being without candles and other little comforts, in self-defence, we had to lie down in our damp blankets, to endeavour to pass the tedious hours of the night.

Two or three evenings before we broke up our camp for the grand invasion of France, we were much diverted by the doleful cries of an owl, which had perched itself in the deep recess of an adjacent valley, and, whenever imitated by us, failed not to return our mockery in her very best and most plaintive screeches!

At this time the weather cleared up, and the three-pounders, mountain guns, passed through our wooded camp. The carriages, guns, ammunition boxes, and iron balls, were strapped separately on the backs of a string of powerful mules; and these guns could be, therefore, conveyed so as to bear on the enemy from cliffs, or craggy elevations. The sure-footed mules would ascend or descend steeps, dried water-courses, or crooked goat-tracks; and would pick their steps from rock to rock, planting their feet cautiously for a good foundation, or a firm hold.

[4] Our friend of the rifle corps was shot through the leg the next morning.

[5] The troops always fought with their knapsacks on; and this is the only time I ever knew them left behind, except when storming breaches of fortresses, or escalading forts.

[6] The French army wore very high cocked hats; the English quite the reverse; the latter was called the Wellington hat.

[7] General Longa's corps were by far the most miserable of any I had ever seen in the Spanish service; but, considering they were doomed to inhabit a cheerless mass of rocks in such attire, I thought them worthy of description; some of the other Spanish corps were well dressed; but the whole of the army suffered more or less, owing to an indifferent supply of rations;—privations which they seemed to bear with unexampled patience.

[8] On the 31st of October, the French garrison at Pampeluna surrendered themselves prisoners of war for want of provisions, which circumstance now cleared the rear of our army, and enabled it to make offensive movements.

CHAPTER III.

Advance of the light division—Singular nocturnal orgies—Skirmishing preliminary to the battle of the Nivelle—Details of that battle—British head-quarters established at St. Jean de Luz—More skirmishing, and a slight reverse—Combative anecdotes—Advance of the British line of picquets.

On the evening of the 9th of November, the division received orders to move during the night, for the purpose of taking up its ground previously to the attack on the enemy's position in France, on the following morning. The whole of the ample store of ready-cut wood, (a portion of which had been split up by the officers to keep themselves in exercise,) was piled up, and a monstrous fire kindled, which soon burst into a tremendous blaze, throwing a bright glare on the distant objects moving between the trees of the forest. At the usual hour, the owl began to utter her notes, and continued her cries longer than heretofore; all which was construed into something ominous by Lieut. Baillie, a sinewy young Highlander, who, with an eagle's wings held on each shoulder, which he had shot with a single ball a few days before, recited those tragic lines sung by the witches in Macbeth, as we all joined hands and danced around the crackling faggots, and sang in chorus, which at intervals was intermingled with the screeches of the aforesaid owl. The flickering and livid glare of the flames, glancing on the scarlet uniforms, the red sparks flying over the forest, and the soldiers packing and beating their knapsacks, gave an unusual wildness to our midnight orgies.

Before striking our tent, we partook of a comfortable breakfast, after which we each secured a biscuit, of American manufacture: they were of a peculiar hardness (nearly an inch thick), so much so, that it required the stamp of an iron heel, or some hard substance, to break them. An officer jocularly remarked, while placing one of them under the breast of his jacket, that it might turn a ball,—which actually occurred.[⁹]

During the darkness we got under arms, and moved silently under the north-west side of la Rhune, by a narrow pathway, which had been cut at that point to facilitate the passage of the troops to the destined point of attack, within a few hundred yards of the enemy's outposts. We had scarcely taken up our ground, when we perceived the flash of a cannon, fired by the enemy on the high road to Saint Jean de Luz, and immediately followed by five others from the same spot. The conclusion was, that these discharges were fired as a signal; for, soon after, we heard the martial sounds of the French drums beating to arms, over a great extent of country, au petit point du jour: our eyes anxiously glanced towards the spot, where we expected to see the second brigade of the division already formed. But nothing seemed to be under the rough side of the mountain of Siboure, except slabs of rock, when, all of a sudden, as if by magic, the whole of the fancied rocks were in motion; and as the haze gradually cleared away, we could see the soldiers packing the blankets with which they had covered themselves, having taken up their ground long before us, as they had had a greater distance to march.

The rising of the sun above the horizon was to be the signal for the battle of the Nivelle to begin; or, if the weather proved cloudy, the heavy artillery (which had been dragged with great difficulty through the pass of Echalar,) were to open on the French occupying a fort, which had been constructed to block up the break of the ridge of the Pyrenees leading towards the village of Sare, in France. The sky was free from clouds, and a sharp cold wind whistled through the barren and cheerless rocks, whilst all eyes were directed towards the east, watching the inflamed orb of the sun as he rose to view. Our regiment, under Major W. Napier, then fixed bayonets, and rapidly moved forward in column to the assault of the three stone forts on the top of la Petite la Rhune; two companies rushed forward to skirmish, four formed into line, and four supported in column. The heavy guns opened at the puerta de Echalar; part of our brigade moved further to the right; the second brigade scrambled over the rocks, precipices, and ravines, to take the enemy in reverse; and the mountain guns fired into the forts from a ledge of ragged grey rocks.

In a few minutes we reached the summit of the small mountain by a green slope (not unlike a large breach) within twenty yards of the walls of the first fort. The soldiers and officers gasped for breath: many of the former, from the weight of their knapsacks and accoutrements, staggered and fell, and, before they could recover their limbs, were pierced with bullets to rise no more; the officers led on in a group and carried the first fort. The second was then attacked hand to hand, the French using their bayonets and the butt ends of their pieces; one of our officers gallantly jumped into the second fort, and a French soldier thrust a bayonet through his neckhandkerchief, transfixed him to the wall, and then fired his piece which blew away the officer's collar, who jumped up unhurt. Another officer, while clambering up the wall, received a most tremendous blow on the fingers with the butt-end of a firelock, which made him glad to drop his hold; and we were so hard pressed, that one or two of the officers seized the dead soldiers' firelocks and fought with them. Among others, Sir Andrew Barnard of the rifle corps joined in this hard fight.

As the enemy rushed out of the second fort, a little athletic man with red hair eagerly followed a French officer; the Frenchman parried two of his thrusts, but finding his men giving way, he turned suddenly round and made off, and the soldier, fearing his prey might escape, hurled his firelock at him; the bayonet flew through the back of his body, and he fell heavily on his face with the weight of the musket and the bayonet still sticking in him. Another French officer, who had shewn a noble example of heroism, stood on the top of the wall with both his eyes hanging on his cheeks, with his short cloak flapping in the wind, and not daring to move from his perilous position, lest he should tumble headlong down the steep precipice of many hundred feet in depth.

The forts being now carried, I seized the hand of an officer to congratulate him on his escape; the next instant he was down with a horrible wound, and a ball grazed my left cheek.

Thus, in ten minutes, six companies assaulted a tremendous post, and carried three forts at the point of the bayonet. It was one of the best contested fights I ever saw; but ten officers were killed and wounded, and nearly a hundred men. General Sir James Kempt, and his gallant aide-de-camp, the Honourable C. Gore, had urged their horses up the rocks with hats off, and were cheering us on while carrying the third fort, when the General was wounded in the wrist of the right arm.

The four companies in support had moved forward at a moderate pace and in good order, to succour us in case of need; but finding there was nothing more to be done at this point, and seeing a line of the enemy in front of a star fort, a few hundred yards distant, they became wild with impatience to share in the combat, and simultaneously burst into a run; and it was only by Sir James Kempt's galloping a-head of them that he could restrain their ardour. He was well aware the movement of the second brigade would entirely dispossess the enemy of La Petite la Rhune without further bloodshed.

From this post we had an admirable view of the fourth and seventh divisions, who had succeeded in capturing the fort opposite St. Barbe, and were now debouching on the rugged ground, and bringing up their right shoulders in succession to form a line of battle in front of the ridge of Sare. The second, third, and sixth divisions formed the right, coming down the pass of Maya.

The enemy's main position convexed in the centre, and extended about twelve miles, as the bird flew; but a greater distance to march, owing to the windings of roads, rivulets, and the steep and barren country lying towards their centre and left. Their right was posted in front of Saint Jean de Luz, amid fortified chateaux, farm-houses, villages, woods, and orchards, converted into formidable abattis, and partly defended by an inundation, and fifty pieces of heavy artillery. Their centre rested on the rocky heights of La Petite la Rhune, the ridge of Sare, and adjacent eminences which were crowned with redoubts. Their left was stationed on the heights of Ainhoue on the right bank of the Nivelle, which was also strongly entrenched.

The extreme left of our army consisted of the first and fifth divisions, Lord Alymer's brigade, a corps of Spaniards, with artillery and two brigades of cavalry under General Hope[¹⁰] to demonstrate and to guard the high road to Spain, while the centre and left of the army were employed in more active operations.

The firing and rolling of musketry were now vehement to our right towards the village of Sare. On the first retreat of the enemy, they had set fire to some hundreds of huts built of fern and wicker work, near the rocks of St. Antoine, but soon returned with drums beating the pas de charge, to endeavour to retake them from the Spaniards. The smoke, however, was so dense, owing to the wind blowing direct in their faces, that they were forced from the contest, more from the heat of the flames and downright suffocation than the good management of their antagonists, who, as usual, plied them with long shots.

As soon as the fourth and seventh divisions were well engaged with the enemy under General Beresford, aided by the third division moving to its left, who were combating and driving the enemy up the heights east of Sare, our division descended from La Petite la Rhune, left in front for the purpose of attacking the great redoubt in the centre, on the bare mountain of Esnau, near Ascain. It was defended on all sides by clouds of skirmishers, engaged with the Caçadores and rifles of our division. Here Sir Andrew Barnard fell pierced through the body with a musket-ball amongst the light troops. The rattling of small arms was incessant and very destructive on the 52nd regiment, under Sir John Colborne, which suffered a most severe loss while moving round, and to the rear of the large square redoubt. After some parleying, nearly six hundred of the 88th French, finding themselves forsaken by their main body, surrendered prisoners of war; but their commander gave way to the most bitter invectives.

After nightfall, the flashes of the fire-arms of General Hill's corps still brightly sparkled, while driving onwards and making their last efforts and discharges to decide the victory, and turn the left flank of the enemy,—which obliged them during the night to evacuate St. Jean de Luz, and retire to Bayonne, leaving fifty pieces of cannon in their formidable lines in front of the former place. Field-marshal Wellington directed the attack of the right of our army against the left of the French.

At night some companies of our division were pushed into a valley on picquet; and at nine we observed the heather of the camp had caught fire, illuminating the country for miles around, while the men and animals were seen gliding about, representing a sort of phantasmagoria. By degrees the fire reached the base of the hill and ignited a small forest; and two hours after midnight we were encompassed with a sheet of flames, crackling and whizzing with terrific violence; and the heat was so overpowering that we were glad to cross a rivulet, to save ourselves from being consumed by this conflagration. To add to our night's misery, my companion was groaning from excessive pain caused by the rap over the knuckles given him while we were storming the forts.

At ten o'clock on the following day our division edged off to the right and crossed the Nivelle by a small stone bridge near St. Pé. The whole army moved forward in three columns, the right marching upon Souraide and Espelette and taking post on the left bank of the Nive, at Cambo, Ustaritz, and the vicinity, to watch the enemy on the right bank of that river; the centre on Arrauntz and Arbonne, and the left crossing the Nivelle at the town and vicinity of Saint Jean de Luz, and advancing through Guethary on Bidart, eight miles from Bayonne. In the afternoon it came on to rain, while we were marching through le bois de St. Pé. The roads were very deep, and we passed the night shivering and wallowing in the grass and mud of a saturated plantation.

The head quarters of the general-in-chief were now established at Saint Jean de Luz, an old town situated on the right bank of the river Nivelle, and within a few hundred yards of the sea coast. Through this town the high road runs from Spain to Bayonne, the latter place being strongly fortified and situated at the junction of the Nive with the Adour. The enemy occupied the farm-houses and villas three miles in front of the fortress. A morass, which was only passable at two places covered an entrenched camp which was within cannon shot of the ramparts of Bayonne. The left of our army fronted the enemy, forming a line amidst chateaux, farm-houses, woods, heaths, plantations, hedges, swamps and ditches, as far as the sea-coast, the right being thrown back towards Ustaritz and Cambo, facing the French who lined the right bank of the Nive, as far as St. Jean Pied de Port. With the sea therefore on our left, the river Adour and Bayonne in our front, the river Nive on our right, and the lofty mountains of the Pyrenees at our backs—it may fairly be said that the army were in a cul de sac. The great strength of this frontier seems, particularly during the winter, hardly to be understood; for beyond the river Nive many rapid rivers cut across, and intersect the muddy country and clayey roads, so as to make offensive operations very difficult.

The advanced posts of our first brigade were in a church behind the village of Arcangues, at a château two hundred yards east of it, and at a cottage half a mile further to the right, situated close to a lake, on the other side of which was the château of Chenie, on a rising ground, and enclosed by the small plantation of Berriots, through which a road runs towards Ustaritz. The second brigade prolonged their line towards a deep valley which separated them from the fifth division, holding the plateau, in the neighbourhood of a château on the high road to Bayonne, six or seven miles in front of St. Jean de Luz.

On the 23rd of November, it was deemed advisable to make some alteration in our line of posts; accordingly our first brigade formed at the château behind the village of Arcangues, and four companies of our regiment advanced to execute the mission entrusted to them; but, being led on by too great ardor, we came in front of a large farm-house, strongly entrenched near Bassussarry. Here the musketry was plied on both sides with unusual vivacity. Having pushed through a small plantation to our left of the fortified house, we found ourselves within twenty yards of it. A brave soldier sprang forward before he could be restrained, and, levelling his piece, cried out, "I have been at the storming of Rodrigo, Badajoz, and Saint Sebastian; there is no ball made for me[¹¹]." As soon as he had fired, he fell dead, pierced with numerous bullets through his head and body.

This was indeed a skirmish; for in a very short time we lost ninety men killed, wounded, or taken prisoners. A brave young officer[¹²] seeing things going hard (and hearing the advance sounded) rushed across a field to our left, sword in hand, and, outstripping the company, when close to the enemy, who were formed behind a ditch, was shot through the head, and tumbled into it a lifeless corpse. The officer commanding the company jumped into it, and caught him in his arms; twenty soldiers had also followed and tried to clamber the wet clayey bank, but could neither do that nor extricate themselves from this awkward position. Overwhelmed by numbers, they were obliged to surrender themselves prisoners, as well as the commander[¹³] of the company, whose uniform was streaming with blood, while he was still supporting the dead lieutenant in his arms. We also were so near the enemy that I was obliged to give orders, in an under tone, for the men to cease firing, as the French threw twenty bullets to one. Fortunately the small trees were so thickly set, they could not distinguish us, and ceased firing, but we could distinctly see them leaning carelessly over a wall. While they were chattering away, I passed the word to our soldiers who were lying concealed amongst the small trees, and underwood, that when I should hold up my pocket handkerchief as a signal, a volley was to be fired. This took full effect.

A sergeant of ours was lying on his breast, and had scarcely taken his fusee from the level, when a ball passed in at the centre of his forehead. He instantly rolled on his back, groaned heavily, and kicked out his legs, covering the spot with a liquid stream of blood. Sir James Kempt, ever first in the fight and last out of it, having taken his station at a house within musket-range, had now ordered a bugler to sound the "retire," after two hours' fighting; and it was quite time, for all the companies engaged had sustained a sad loss in killed and hors de combat.

Now came the difficulty—and how to get away without being seen. Fortunately we found a pathway shrouded by small trees, which we passed by single files, without uttering a word. On clearing it, to say that we did not feel glad would be a piece of unnecessary affectation. The men were covered with mud and sweat, and their faces and hands blackened by the biting of cartridges; and scarcely a round of ammunition remained in the pouches. The sergeant, who had been rather dragged than carried out of the wood, was lying on his back and still alive, with his eyes closed, perfectly black, and swelled up as large as a couple of cricket balls; he was frothing at the mouth, and presenting a horrible sight. The balls were again whizzing past our ears, and while spreading the blanket out of his knapsack over his trembling and agitated body, one of the soldiers said "He cannot live long," when, strange to relate, he raised his arm and waved a pocket handkerchief crimsoned with gore which he held in his hand!

An officer full of ardor came forward from the regiment to cover some of the skirmishers on the left; but he was soon shot through the leg, and the sergeant major into the bargain. The latter was a fine comely handsome man of about fourteen stone weight, who was now mounted on a soldier's back with his sword drawn, swearing all the oaths he could muster; and the sight was so ludicrous, that we were all convulsed with laughter, to see the two heroes, who had come quite fresh to cover our retreat, carried off the field in so droll a manner,—while now and then a stray bullet whistled through the air, by way of a hint that it was no joke.

Our line of picquets was now advanced; which, I am quite confident, might have been accomplished without a shot being fired. In the evening we returned to the village of Arbonne with keen appetites, and heartily glad to wash the dirt and mire from off our hands and faces.

[9] A musket-ball perforated the biscuit, which caused the bullet, after passing under the fleshy part of the breast, and round the ribs, to glance off and pierce quite through the thick part of the left arm.

[10] General Graham having gone to Holland, to take the command of a separate British force in that country.

[11] This man, made use of similar expressions, while storming the forts on the 10th of November.

[12] This is the officer who repeated the tragic lines in Macbeth, while dancing round the fire the night before the battle of the Nivelle, thirteen days before.

[13] He was made prisoner while travelling through France on his way to Verdun, his carriage was surrounded by a party of Cossacks, who were going to pike him, when he luckily made himself understood; then being conducted to the allied army, he was most kindly treated and instantly liberated.

CHAPTER IV.

Tolerable quarters—Beguiling of time on picquet duty—The army again in motion—A critical position—French cunning, and occasional politeness—Skirmishing affairs preceding the battle of the Nive—Details of that engagement—Its advantageous consequences to our army—Acts of complaisance between the vanguards of the opposed forces—Christmas festivities.

The weather continued variable, intermixed with cold winds, sleet, and heavy rains. However, as we were pretty well housed, the hardships of other campaigns ceased, for we had no longer fatiguing marches, the rations were regularly served out, and, as long as our money lasted, the hordes of congregated suttlers at Saint Jean de Luz supplied us in abundance with every article of domestic comfort. When on picquet, our time was occupied chattering with the peasantry, a sort of demi-basque tribe. They had no decided costume: the females twisted striped handkerchiefs of various patterns round their heads according to the French custom, and wore wooden shoes or sabots,—an article well adapted to keep out the mud in the execrable roads of this country.

On the 9th of December the army was put in motion, and the second division forded the river near Cambo, with little opposition from the enemy. Our division advanced against the French in front of Bassussary, and drove in some of their picquets; while the left under General Hope advanced on the road leading from St. Jean de Luz, nearly up to the entrenched camp in front of Bayonne. During the whole day a good deal of desultory skirmishing took place, and our army formed a sort of half-circle, the river Nive cutting through the right centre, which made the distance from right to left at least twenty miles, by roads scarcely passable. Towards evening the left of the army retired to their former line of picquets, and the main body to Saint Jean de Luz and its environs; but our division kept its ground more than half a mile in front of the village of Arcangues. The enemy seemed determined not to quit the fortified house near the little bridge, or Pont d'Urdains, and as we passed north of it, we had overlooked its enclosure, occupied by a French brigade, congregated in a noisy assemblage, while their rations were served out. Apprehensive that the sight of the loaves and wine casks might excite us to desperate expedients, one or two hundred of the enemy's tirailleurs extended themselves, and advanced, without much firing, to clear the ground.

After dark our sentinels were withdrawn, for the purpose of taking post on our original picquet ground. The company I commanded held a small promontory, or tongue of land, which jutted out considerably beyond all the other line of picquets; and, without doubt, was a most precarious post, as neither flank was secure: and the sentinels were planted on a half-circle, to shield the main body of the picquet. Notwithstanding the ground was so disadvantageous, it was necessary to hold it, as it commanded the debouché of the road from Bayonne by Bassussary. During the night we heard confused sounds, like the rumbling of artillery, intermixed with a good deal of hallooing and barking of dogs; but two hours before daybreak all the sounds died away, and every thing was hushed and tranquil. The suspicion, however, of the field officer of the picquets was awakened, and he ordered me to feel my way towards the house of Oyhenart usually held by the French, to ascertain whether they had taken up the ground from which they had been driven on the previous day. Four soldiers accompanied me, but, as good luck would have it, I could not pass the abattis, composed of trees, which had been cut down to stop up the broad road, and to cover our picquet-house.

We then crossed into a field, and, stealing along close to the right of the road, as cautiously as possible, waited the French sentinels' well-known qui vive. Suddenly I felt the serjeant pulling at the skirts of my jacket, (for I had thrown off my cloak as an incumbrance,) and he whispered me to cast my eyes to the left, where I saw about a dozen Frenchmen, within six yards of us, gliding along the road towards our abattis, I think, without shoes, for they did not make the least noise. A small hedge screened us; the serjeant was about to fire, but I put his fusee down with my hand, and we all squatted in the mud, anxiously awaiting the result. Time hung on leaden wings, and they were almost entangled in the branches of the felled trees before our sentry discovered and challenged them; but not being quite certain of the cause of the slight noise, he did not fire, and presently these grey-coated phantom-looking figures came running past us, with noiseless footsteps: we then made good haste back, having been, according to our calculation, within ten or twelve yards of their sentry, who was usually planted behind a hedge which flanked their picquet-house, distant from ours two hundred yards.

At daybreak, on the 10th December, we perceived the advance of the enemy within one hundred yards of our picquet, loitering about as usual, without any outward display of any thing extraordinary going on, or any signs indicating that they were about to assume offensive movements. At eight o'clock, Sir James Kempt came to my picquet-house, and, having seated himself by the fire, the assembled party consisted of Lieut. Col. Beckwith (a staff officer) of the Rifle Corps, Lieut. Col. William Napier, Major Sir John Tylden, Lieut. Maclean[¹⁴], and the Honorable C. Monck, of our regiment, who all entered into an indifferent conversation, without contemplating that an attack was meditated by the enemy. Lieut. Col. Napier remarked, that he thought the French loiterers seemed very busy, which induced us to approach the window, which commanded a full view of the enemy's picquet-house, and having looked at them some time, without seeing the cause of alarm, some of the party burst into a loud laugh, and declared that it was only Napier's fancy; but he still persisted, and would not give up his point, saying, that he had seen them very often before, in a like manner, walking off by ones and twos, to assemble at given points, before making some rapid and simultaneous assault; and, sure enough, before the expiration of half an hour, these ones and twos increased considerably all along the hedges.

Although Sir James Kempt was always on the alert, (no general could be more so,) still he persisted that nothing would take place, and ordered the first brigade to return to its quarters at Arbonne, a distance of more than two miles, and over a very bad road. Lieut.-Col. Beckwith remarked, that he now agreed that the French seemed to be eyeing the post, and advised Sir James to rescind the order, as it would be better to conceal the troops, and to wait until the enemy should develope their intentions. The field-officer rode off to warn the other companies in advance to be in readiness. These were formed disadvantageously, on a gentle concave acclivity, which could not be helped, from the nature and shape of the country.

Lieut.-Col. Beckwith alone remained, and, before he rode off, walked round the sentinels with me, as I was ordered to defend the post, should the enemy come on, to oblige them fully to develope their intentions. Shortly after this, one of the sentinels stationed on the most rising ground, turned his back to the French and beckoned me. On my reaching his post, he informed me that he had seen a mountain-gun brought on a mule's back, and placed behind a bush. In a few minutes the Duke of Dalmatia, with about forty staff officers, came within point-blank range of my picquet to reconnoitre the ground. During this interval, I fancied that I could hear the buzz of voices behind a small hillock, and, on clambering a fruit-tree near my picquet-house, I could just descry a column of the enemy lying down, in readiness to pounce on us. There being no longer any doubt that they were about to attack, I instantly mounted my horse, (leaving the company in charge of the next senior officer,) and rode at full speed in search of the general, whom I met within a quarter of a mile, and told him there would be a general action fought that day, and there was no time to be lost. Sir James Kempt ordered me to send a mounted officer from the picquet to Gen. Baron C. Alten, and to be sure not to begin the firing until the very last moment. He sent also the greater part of another company to my assistance. In two or three minutes after I had returned to the picquet, some French soldiers, headed by an officer, issued from behind the hedges, and moved round our left flank, within one hundred yards. The officer naturally thought we should fire at him; therefore, to feign indifference, he placed his telescope to his eye, looked carelessly about in all directions, and made a bow to us. Further to the left, we could also see a body of French cavalry debouching from the small thicket of la Bourdique, three miles distant, near the great Bayonne road.

The French soldiers, witnessing our civility to their small party, were determined not to be outdone in politesse, and called out to our sentinels to retire, in French and Spanish. At half-past nine o'clock, a. m., the enemy's skirmishers, in groups, came forward in a careless manner, talking to each other, and good-naturedly allowed our sentinels to retire without firing on them. They imagined, from their superiority of numbers, to gain this post by a coup de main; and the more effectually by this means to surprise, if possible, the whole line of outposts. However, when they were within twenty yards of our abattis, I said, "Now fire away."[¹⁵] The first discharge did great execution. These were the first shots fired, and the beginning of the battle of the Nive. The enemy then debouched from behind the thickets in crowds; our flanks were turned right and left, and the brisk French voltigeurs rushed impetuously forward, (covered by two mountain-guns,) blowing their trumpets, and shouting "En avant, en avant Français; vive l'Empereur!"

The atmosphere was clouded, and the bright flashing and pelting of musketry sprang up with amazing rapidity. One of our companies, having held its ground too long in front of the village of Arcangues, was surrounded. The officer commanding it, asked the soldiers if they would charge to the rear, and they rushed into the village with such a loud huzza, that an officer commanding a French regiment was so surprised at their sudden appearance, as to halt the column for a few moments; and the fugitives sprang across the single street and escaped.

Two battalions of the rifle corps being formed in columns of grand divisions, or single companies, behind the various houses, developed their skirmishers in admirable order, and fought in and round the scattered houses of Chau with great skill. So close was the combat, that Lieut. Hopwood and a serjeant of the rifle corps, were both shot through the head by a single Frenchman putting the muzzle of his piece quite close to them, while they were engaged with others in front.

In the meantime the whole of our picquets now ceased firing and retired leisurely, unengaged, took their station with the rest of the regiment, and formed in a churchyard, on our main position, more than half a mile behind the village of Arcangues,[¹⁶] a sort of neutral post for reserve picquets; but the village was not entrenched, was not intended to be defended, and formed no part of our main position, owing to the ground on both flanks of it being badly adapted for defence. The isolated church and the château called Arcangues, have been the cause of those numerous mistakes made relatively to the distant village of that name being the supposed scene of a severe conflict. The rest of the brigade already lined the breastwork of a château, two hundred yards to the right.

After a protracted struggle the rifle corps retired, and formed on the position marked out for defence, but left a number of skirmishers behind some stone walls, at the bottom of the slope, from which the enemy could never dislodge them, owing to our overpowering fire from the high ground.

The second brigade was now sharply engaged, having been in echelon to our left and obliquely to the rear, following the undulating nature of the ground. The plateau of Arcangues and Bassussarry being gained by the enemy, now became the pivot of the French marshal's operations, which enabled his right wing to attack the fifth division, on the high road to St. Jean de Luz, where there was some very hard fighting, in front of the batteries; and it was some hours before the first division and Lord Aylmer's brigade could come to their assistance, these troops having been peaceably in their quarters, and far to the rear, when this sudden irruption took place. The enemy's attack ceased opposite to us, with the exception of a firing of artillery within about a thousand yards, which continued to play into the churchyard, and knocked about the tombstones during the greater part of the day. In one spot a small green mound was carried away, and also the lid of an infant's coffin, leaving the putrid remains of the child exposed to view. However, we kept up an incessant discharge of small-arms, which so annoyed the French gunners, that, during the latter part of the day, they ceased to molest us. The walls of the stone church were cannon-proof; I saw many balls break large pieces out of the edifice, and fall harmlessly on the sod.

The assembled enemy on the neighbouring heights seemed now to meditate an assault. Two companies lined the interior of the building, the windows of which were surrounded with wooden galleries; water was taken into the church, and a strong traverse was erected opposite the door, so that, if by any accident the enemy had attacked and gained possession of it, the fire from the galleries would have driven them out again.

The rest of the battalion were stationed behind a stone-wall, which encircled the churchyard, and in reserve behind the edifice, ready to make a charge of bayonets should the enemy succeed in breaking through this enclosure. Their advance were stationed behind a house, within two hundred yards of us, covered by their cannon at the brow of the hill, while we only possessed two mountain three-pounders, which were placed to the left of the church, to fire down a narrow lane which threatened our left flank. For some days previously, trifling working parties had been employed, of twenty or thirty men, in cutting down a small plantation in front of the church, which was so intersected by the trees entangled together, that the enemy never could have penetrated them; but the other entrenchments consisted of a few shovels of earth, negligently thrown up, which the French voltigeurs might have hopped over; and as for flank defences, they seemed not to have been thought of.

At about one o'clock, p. m., the fourth division came to our support, and crowned a hill six hundred yards behind the château occupied by the rifle corps.

During the night the whole of our regiment were hard at work, in throwing up a formidable battery in front of the churchyard, and before morning it was finished, with embrasures, regular épaulements, (filled up with small bushes, to make the enemy believe that it was a masked battery,) and traverses. Both our flanks were secured by felled trees, strewed about, and even at the back of the burial-ground, which was now impregnable against any sudden assault; nor do I believe six thousand men could have taken it. So much for the ingenuity of infantry soldiers, with their spades, shovels, pickaxes, bill-hooks, and hatchets.

On the 11th, it was supposed that the Duke of Dalmatia intended to break the centre, by advancing against the church and château, (commonly called Arcangues); accordingly General Hope detached the right part of his force nearer to the left of our division; but the enemy again attacked, and obliged him to resume his original ground, where there was a good deal of firing, and many brave men fell on both sides, without any decided result. During this day, although the French advance was quite close to us, there was no firing; and we industriously profited by every moment of tranquillity to strengthen our position. At this juncture, two battalions of Nassau troops deserted into the British lines.

On the 12th, a fusillade on the left continued the greater part of the day; every now and then there was a cessation of small-arms; then a sudden rush and burst of firing, and so on. On calling the roll in the afternoon, a dozen men of our regiment were missing, and an officer being sent with a patrole to a small house enclosed in an apple-orchard, he found the enemy's soldiers and our men mixed together, in a room full of apples. The French soldiers, considering themselves prisoners, brought forth the whole of their apples as a peace offering to the officer, who merely pointed to the door, from whence they effected their escape; while, on the other hand, the culprits belonging to us were brought back, with downcast heads, and their haversacks crammed with apples.

In the evening the enemy formed a strong mass of troops, within cannon range, and in front of our second brigade, but made no further movement; while those opposite to us were employed in throwing up the earth, as if to construct batteries. During the night, some of the rifle corps on picquet, being close to the French, observed, by the reflection of a bright fire, about thirty stand of the enemy's firelocks piled in front of their picquet-house, which the rifles determined to possess themselves of, and darted forward with such rapidity that the French sentinel had only time to discharge his piece and run away. The rest of the picquet bolted the front, and escaped, without arms, by the back door.

On the 13th, in the morning, it was found that the French Marshal had disappeared from our front, and during the night had again marched in a half-circle through Bayonne, for the purpose of attacking the second division before sufficient support or assistance could be given them, finding the three previous days' fighting and demonstrations had failed to force the lines, or oblige Field Marshal Wellington to withdraw his right flank from the right bank of the Nive.

The sixth and third divisions supported the right of the army; the fourth division the centre; and the seventh the left centre: these four divisions being in reserve, and occasionally in motion towards those points threatened.

The company I commanded was again for outpost duty, at the identical spot which we had been driven from. We relieved a company of the rifle corps which had felt its way, au point du jour, to our old picquet-house. The officer whom I relieved, in a merry mood, bade us good morning, and pointed, at the same time, towards the French infantry, with knapsacks on, bayonets fixed, and aided by a squadron of hussars. The old abattis had been entirely removed, and as it was quite uncertain at what moment the enemy might make a forward movement, I ordered another abattis to be constructed at the turn of the road; and I never saw the men work with better humour. In a few minutes a sufficient number of trees were cut down, and collected, to stop any sudden ebullition of the cavalry; it would have been any thing but agreeable to be attacked on both flanks, while the dragoons charged up the road.

This little defence was barely finished, when some straggling shots took place in front of General Hill's corps, occupying a concave position of about four miles in extent, between the rivers Adour and Nive; the right centre occupying the village of St. Jean vieux Monguerre. The day was fine, and in a short time the white smoke ascended in clouds, amidst peals of musketry, and the rapid and well-served artillery. The battle was well contested on both sides, and there was no break in the musketry. Both bodies fought as if this struggle was to wind up, in brilliant style, the battle of the Nive. As fast as the grape-shot mowed down, and split the enemy's columns, they again closed up, and strenuously endeavoured to break through the brave lines of the second division, who repulsed all their attacks, and crowned the day by forcing the enemy into their entrenchments with such decision, that they no more resumed the offensive, nor was the army further disturbed by petty affairs.

The right of the French army now confined itself to the usual outposts in front of Bayonne; its right centre extended on the right of the Adour to Port de Lanne, and its left flank on the right bank of the river Bidouze, and their cavalry filled up the intermediate country as far as the small fortress of Saint Jean Pied de Port, which position embraced our army, and formed two sides of a square,—our right face being on the river Joyeuse, and supported by the light cavalry.

Various acts of complaisance now passed between the vanguards of the hostile armies. A lady from Bayonne, with a skipping poodle dog, one day came to see les habits rouges of les Anglais; and while she was going through those little elegancies, so peculiarly characteristic of the French, the poodle dog came towards us, and from an over officiousness, some of the French soldiers whistled to keep it within bounds, which so frightened the little creature, that at full speed it entered our lines, and crouched at our feet. Without a moment's delay we sent it back by a soldier to its anxious mistress, who was highly delighted, and with her own delicate hand presented a goblet of wine to the man, who, with an unceremonious nod, quaffed the delicious beverage to the dregs, touched his cap, and rejoined us, with a pipe in his mouth and a store of tobacco,—the latter having been presented to him by the French soldiers.

With the exception of a trifling change of quarters, and a few other occurrences, the year closed without any thing to interrupt our little Christmas festivities, which were always kept in due form. On Christmas-day I was on picquet, but we partook of the usual fare, and some mulled wine, with as much tranquillity as if afar removed from hostile alarms. Just before dark, while passing a corporal's picquet, an officer and myself stood for a few minutes, to contemplate a poor woman, who had brought her little pudding, and her child, from her distant quarters, to partake of it with her husband, by the side of a small fire kindled under a tree.

[14] Now Captain Maclean.

[15] Probably such a word of command may astonish some adjutant-major, but I give it as it occurred: in rough ground, in rough times, and in a rough country, such expedients are resorted to in war.

[16] On assembling in the churchyard behind Arcangues, an athletic soldier of this company being without his knapsack, told us, that while passing through the village three French soldiers had surrounded him, and one had hold of his collar; but he throwing his knapsack on the ground, knocked one man down, and the others seized his knapsack, and by this means he effected his escape.

CHAPTER V.

An unproductive alarm—The Duke d'Angoulême visits the British army—Orders received by the Duke of Dalmatia—General position of Napoleon's affairs—The author visits Bera on leave of absence—Remarks on the mischiefs committed by camp followers—A scene for contemplation—The author's friends at Bera—Love inimical to harmony—Return to quarters—Movements for penetrating into the interior of France—The author's regiment enters St. Palais, crosses the Gave, and passes through Sauveterre to Orthes.

On the 3rd of January, 1814, a slight affair took place on the river Joyeuse, which caused the army to be put in motion. Our division crossed the Nive by the bridge of Ustaritz, made a day's march and encamped; but nothing further of consequence taking place, we repassed the left of the river, and resumed our old cantonments, in the scattered villas, farm-houses, and cottages about the village of Arrauntz. During this month the Duke d'Angoulême took up his abode with the British army at St. Jean de Luz.

The Duke of Dalmatia received an order to detach from Bayonne a large portion of his force of cavalry, artillery and infantry to the succour of Napoleon, who, since his disastrous campaign in Russia, had slowly retrograded through Germany, and after fighting many mighty battles, had been forced to recross the Rhine into France, and was now endeavouring with skeleton numbers, by a series of skilful manœuvres, combats and diplomacy, to preserve the throne against a host of invaders directed personally by the three crowned heads of Europe, whose banners were at last nailed together and threatening la ville de Paris. There Maria-Louisa, with her infant son by her side, was issuing bulletins announcing the partial successes gained by Napoleon her husband, over the troops of her father, the Emperor Francis of Austria, the Czar of Russia, and the King of Prussia. Such was the state of events at this momentous epoch—Great Britain still continuing the focus of resistance, and straining every nerve to keep the Holy Alliance unanimous.

The weather now became very severe, and as some reports were circulated that there was a probability of the British army advancing into the interior of France, I obtained a few days' leave for the purpose of visiting my wounded friends at Bera; and accordingly I set off in the direction of Saint Jean de Luz. A severe frost had hardened the roads, and the ground was covered with snow, but I had scarcely travelled a league, when I heard an independent firing towards Bayonne, which almost induced me to return, under the apprehension, that some portion of the army were engaged; but, on reaching a more elevated hill, I found that none of the troops were in motion, and it afterwards turned out to be the young French conscripts practising at targets. On this open heath, signal posts were erected, to communicate with the right of the army, on the right bank of the Nive. Batteries were thrown up a few miles in front of Saint Jean de Luz, to cover that town on the high road from Bayonne. They appeared strong and well finished.

The narrow and dirty streets of Saint Jean de Luz presented a gloomy aspect, being filled with muleteers, cars loaded with biscuit-bags, bullocks, rum-casks, ammunition, idlers, and all the disagreeable incumbrances attached to the rear of an army. As I passed along the high road, I felt exceedingly surprised at the numerous delapidated houses, and empty chateaux, with the orchards and all the fruit trees cut down and converted into abattis, which had been done by the French army; but every article that had been left by them in good order, the followers of our army had ransacked. How often do the soldiers of armies bear the odium of enormities and plunderings, committed most frequently by the non-combatant wolves in the shape of men, whose crimes are of such long standing, and so frequently executed (under the cloak of night, or under the mask of hypocrisy), that at last no atrocity is too heinous for so cowardly a banditti to commit. They devour the rations on their way to the hungry army: they steal the officers' horses: they extort exorbitant prices for small articles, which they have stolen from the peaceful inhabitants: they strip the deserted and expiring wounded on the field of battle, and would willingly sell their bodies, could they find purchasers.

Having jogged along some miles, amongst this horde of scattered ruffians, I came to the narrow road turning off to the left, which leads across the mountains to the town of Bera; and towards evening I reached, with difficulty, the summit of the contracted pass, narrowed by the drifted, and frozen snow. Here I stopped for a few minutes, (notwithstanding the piercing coldness of the frosty air) to contemplate the town of Bera, and the scattered quintas embosomed in the valley, now wrapped in a death-like stillness, and covered, as well as the surrounding mountains, with snow. The brittle branches of the trees were stiffened, fringed, and sparkling with icicles. A few short months had produced a great change! When last I had been at this spot, the foliage was tinted with an autumnal hue, and red lines of soldiers, were formed there, their silken and embroidered ensigns waving, and their bright arms gleaming in the rays of the sun, the craggy heights bristled with bayonets, the drums beating, the merry bugle horns echoing throughout the winding vallies: every eminence was crowned with curling smoke, the vivid firing of small arms, or the occasional flash of the cannon, reverberating amid the forests in hollow caves, broken chasms, and fissures of the granite rock,—producing sounds afar off, like the rumbling of distant thunder,—and altogether giving an inconceivable life, and animation to the scenery.

On my descending from this pinnacle, to make my way down the side of the mountain, the road was so blocked up with snow, the narrow pathway in, the middle so slippery, and the foot-hold so uncertain, that I could hardly keep myself on my legs, or the animal on its own; and, resting every now and then, I did not reach the solitary and deserted street of the town, until an hour and a half after nightfall.

When opposite to the porch of the well known Casa, (that of the before-mentioned Spanish family), although shivering and benumbed with cold, I hesitated to knock for admittance. All was dark and silent; no lights issued from the casement, nor was the sound of any voice to be heard from within. In this short interval, many conjectures rushed across my mind; my friends might be gone to some distant town; the former hospitable inmates might no longer inhabit its gloomy walls, it might be occupied with strangers, or be the sanctuary of the dead. With such dismal forebodings, I gave a thundering rap; the massive door was opened by a soldier, holding a little iron lamp in his hand, (filled with aceyte, and having a small wick burning at the spout) which cast a faint glimmering light across the out lines of my cloak, and wiry-haired steed, covered with slakes of snow. Without waiting for any explanation, the man was hastily closing the door, while lustily calling out, "There is no room here, this house is full of wounded officers;" but on making myself known, the portal was thrown back on its hinges; lights appeared at the top of the stairs, and the voices of my friends joyfully greeted my arrival. In the midst of our embracings, "Take care of my side," said one of them, (still hugging me), "for it has sloughed away, and you shall see my bare ribs anon." Another was stretched on his pallet, from which he had not risen for upwards of two months, but was slowly recovering under the soothing attention, and gentle hand of la Señorita Ventura. The former had made too free with the roseate wine at Christmas, which had caused his wound to break out anew, leaving his ribs quite bare of flesh for the space of six inches in diameter; but they were both in excellent spirits—the braceiro was replenished with ruddy embers, and placed at my feet, and a hot dinner speedily served up, with a bottle of sparkling wine to solace and comfort my inside, after my freezing journey. Over this we recounted all that had passed since our separation at the battle of the Nivelle. I described fresh battles, and combats, and they all the torments they had endured while slowly carried two leagues in blankets up and down the rocks and mountains, or on the verge of terrific precipices, in momentary dread that those supporting them might slip, and let them fall on the jagged and naked rocks. Before I retired to rest, I paid a visit to a young officer of the 52nd regiment, who occupied a room at the upper part of the house; he was suffering dreadfully, and dying from a wound which he had received in the groin.

The following day, Captain Smith of the 20th regiment dined with us, who came from the neighbourhood of Roncesvalles, bringing in his train a coffin, and having performed a pilgrimage, through the intricacies of the mountains at this inclement season of the year, in search of a friend, who had been killed in that neighbourhood five months before. Three or four days passed in this manner, when a trifling circumstance broke up our sociable conviviality. The last evening, as we were seated round the braceiro, I was engaged in an agreeable tête-à-tête with la Señorita Ventura which seriously affected one of my wounded friends, who was deeply enamoured of her; he continued, however, to smother his anguish for a short time, and the strangeness of his manner, left little doubt on my mind that an excuse would only make bad worse, on so delicate a subject. I therefore announced the intention of taking my departure on the following morning. One of them held me by the collar, and declared I should not go, as I had introduced them to the family, and that any jealous feeling was the height of ingratitude; however, the blow was so injurious to my friend's vanity or love, that he could not endure my presence for another evening; twice, by such introductions, I had almost saved his life, yet he could not forgive, although an excellent fellow. Such is all-powerful love!

Having bidden adieu, myself and a friend of the rifles (who had been to Bera to see his wounded brother) repassed Saint-Jean de Luz, and soon after alighted at the quarters of a commissary, who had formerly belonged to the light division. While we were partaking of some refreshment, he asked us whether the division had not been surprised on the 10th of the last December; when told to the contrary, he assured us that it was generally supposed to be the case, and he was exceedingly glad to hear it contradicted, feeling an interest in all that concerned the welfare of the division, for he had made his débút with it. Before leaving the main road, the same questions were put to us in another quarter, by an officer who had been previously in our own corps; which will give a faint idea how rapidly evil and malicious reports fly; and so evil a one as this I had seldom known hatched. However, looking to the front, we only fancied ourselves on the high road of blunders; but the most curious and laughable part of the business was, that these very reports were in circulation by those who were so far to the rear when the battle of the Nive first began, that, had it not been for the determined resistance of the van guards of the light[¹⁷] and fifth divisions, the enemy would have passed all the defences, and most probably seized Saint Jean de Luz, and the bridge at Ustaritz;—and strange it is, but not less true, that the most doleful accounts float about behind an army: victory is construed into defeat; and if a slight retrograde is made, off go the non-combatants as hard as they can tear, carrying away every one in the torrent whom they can persuade to take their friendly advice.

A thaw had now set in; the cross roads, in many places, were perfect bogs and quagmires, so that we did not reach our cantonments until late at night, and were covered with mud, having been frequently obliged to dismount, to wade through the slough, before we dared trust our horses to pass through, as many animals were still sticking or lying in the liquid mud, after having floundered about until they were smothered in the mire.

Preparations being made, early in February, for pushing into the interior of France, General Hill broke up from Bayonne in the middle of that month, and at first moved in a southerly direction as far as Hellete, driving the enemy across the rivers Joyeuse, Bidouze, and through the town of St. Palais.[¹⁸] These movements cut the French off from the small fortress of St. Jean Pied-de-Port, which General Mina blockaded, and obliged the right of their army to leave Bayonne to its own defence. Thence, marching along the right bank of the Adour, they crossed the river at the Port de Lanne, for the purpose of supporting their centre and left, which were retiring before General Hill, and taking post behind the river or Gave d'Oleron, with their right resting on the left bank of the Adour, and occupying the towns of Peyrehorade, Sauveterre, and the small fortress of Navarriens.

The six divisions of the army, besides cavalry and artillery, destined to penetrate into the interior, consisted of the second, third, fourth, sixth, seventh, and light divisions, which were now extending in echelon from Vieux Mouguerre to Navarriens and drawing off by degrees in succession towards the right: the first and fifth division, Lord Alymer's brigade, and a corps of Spaniards being left behind to blockade the fortress of Bayonne under General Hope.

Our division, having passed the Nive, occupied the small town of Bastide; but, as the clothing of our regiment had reached as far as the town of Ustaritz, we once more crossed the river for it, and having halted there one day, retraced our steps to rejoin the army, the right of which had crossed the Gave d'Oleron, while General Beresford with two divisions showed front, ready to cross that river at Peyrehorade.

The right of General Hope's corps, consisting of the fifth division, having crossed to the right of the river Nive, invested Bayonne on that side. On the 23rd, part of the first division passed the Adour, (two hundred and seventy yards in width) on a raft four miles below Bayonne, from whence the enemy advanced to endeavour to force this small van-guard to recross the river, but without effect. The two following days, the whole of the first division were ferried over to the right bank of the river: Lord Alymer's brigade, and the Spaniards in reserve hemmed in the enemy on the side of St. Jean de Luz, which completed the lines of circumvallation, drawn round the entrenched camp of this fortress and its citadel: but, owing to the intersection of the rivers, this corps was split into three different bodies, communicating with each other by the grand bridge of Chasse-Marées,[¹⁹] thrown over the Adour, and one across the Nive. Subsequently some changes of the troops took place.

On the 25th our regiment reached a village within a mile of St. Palais, and on the following morning entered that town, when, to our mortification, we were ordered to halt until relieved by some other regiment, while the 57th, whom we had replaced, marched forward to join the army. It was therefore evident that the troops were left to keep open the line of communication in rear of the army, as well as to fetch clothing.

On the morning of the 27th we heard that the 79th Highlanders were to enter the town; we therefore got under arms, and as soon as they entered at one end, we marched out at the other and towards the middle of the day passed the Gave d'Oleron,[²⁰] at Sauveterre. A fine stone bridge crossed the river; but its centre arches had been blown up and entirely destroyed: it was therefore necessary to ford the river, which was more than a hundred yards in breadth; and, although hardly three feet deep below the bridge, the current was so extremely rapid, and the bottom so intersected with loose stones, that it was thought advisable for the strongest men to throw off their knapsacks, and to join hands and form a strong chain with their faces to the current, to pick up any of the soldiers, who might chance to turn giddy or loose their foot-hold—for if an individual wavered to either side, the probability was, that he was whirled round by the force of the stream, and lifted off his legs, sinking to the bottom like a lump of lead, loaded as he was, with knapsack, accoutrements and sixty pounds of ball cartridge!

We breakfasted at a hotel in the town of Sauveterre, and, as the band played through it, the inhabitants stood at their windows smiling with as much indifference, as if the column had been composed of the native troops of their own country.

At this time we could distinctly hear, at some distance to our front, a heavy firing, and the rolling of musketry and cannon. Owing to its continuation we marched forward the whole of the day. The country was extremely fertile, with large farm houses and chateaux on each side of the road. All the doors were closed, nor did we meet a single individual, from whom we could gain the least information. Towards dusk the howling of the great watch-dogs might be heard all over the country; and although we bivouacked in the night in a wood, within three miles of Orthes, we were utterly ignorant of the cause of the heavy firing during the day.

At dawn on the 28th we had hardly traversed a mile when we observed the tents of the 57th regiment pitched on the top of a hill, to the right of the road, without any signs of a move. This corps had been two days from St. Palais, and in one march we were passing them. I was sent forward to gain information, and absolutely reached the old narrow bridge on the river Pau at Orthes, before I heard from an officer of engineers, who was superintending its repairs, that a battle had taken place on the previous day. The centre arch being destroyed, this officer had strict orders not to let any one pass it, until it should be fully repaired: however, as an especial favour, he had the complaisance to cause a few planks to be laid down, and, at a great risk, I succeeded in getting my horse over and entered the town—where I met a soldier of the 52nd, who could not tell me the road the light division had taken after the victory, and, when asked what they had been doing the day before: "Why sir," replied he, "I never saw Johnny fight better." Directly after this I saw Lord George Lennox, in a light dragoon uniform, who told me, that he feared his brother the Duke of Richmond,[²¹] a Captain of the 52nd, was mortally wounded, having been shot through the body by a musket ball, while ascending a hill with his regiment, at the close of the battle.

[17] The reserves of the light division were not brought into action, but manned the main position, in case of its being attacked, which did not take place—while the main body of the army awoke from its slumbers and came to the battle-ground.

[18] All the above towns, including Bayonne, in September 1807, had been occupied by the French troops under General Junot (afterwards Duke of Abrantes) previously to their entrance into Spain under the plea of uniting with the Spaniards for the invasion of Portugal.

[19] The sailors of Admiral Penrose's squadron assisted in boldly running these boats over the bar at the mouth of the Adour (where some of them and crews were unfortunately lost) for the purpose of forming the famous bridge of boats across that river. Admiral Collier also co-operated with the crews of his squadron in landing cannon, and working them in battery at St. Sebastian.

[20] Near this spot, a few days before, some light companies of the third division had forded; but they had no sooner crossed than they were violently attacked by the enemy, and forced to repass it under a heavy fire, losing many brave soldiers killed and drowned, before a sufficient force could cross to their support.

[21] Then Earl of March; he had been on Field-Marshal Wellington's staff for some time previously, and only joined his regiment a short time before this action.

CHAPTER VI.

A wrong direction—An affair with the enemy's cavalry—Bivouac in a wood—A ludicrous mistake in the dark—Arrival at St. Sever—Welcome supply of bread—The Duke of Dalmatia leaves Bordeaux unprotected, to preserve the communication with Toulouse—Reception of the English at Mont de Marsan—A dancing scene and other amusements at the village of Brinquet—The disappointed purveyors—The author regains his corps—Adventure gained over the enemy by General Hill—Gascon peasantry—Various movements of the opposed armies—The French driven through the town of Vic Bigorre—An agreeable march.

It was now eight o'clock in the morning, and finding little probability of gaining the requisite intelligence of the route of the light division, without seeing the adjutant-general, I made direct to his maison, and, being ushered up stairs, I found him in bed, comfortably reposing with the curtains drawn tightly round him. Whether he was half asleep from over-fatigue, or from some other cause, he gave me the route of the fourth division, by the road leading towards the town of Sault de Navailles.

On overtaking the tail of that division, we fell into a slow pace, owing to some obstacles and the broken bridges over the various tributary streams, which were very much swollen at this time of the year.

On this day, our hussars had an affair beyond Sault de Navailles with the enemy's cavalry; and, in the afternoon, I saw one of their officers on horseback, deadly pale from a wound in the abdomen.

After nightfall, we bivouacked in a wood to the right of the high road on the river Louts, within a short way of the town of Hagetman. Our baggage did not come up; the night was miserably cold, and the whole of the officers of our regiment took possession of a tumble-down shed, or forsaken cow-house, where, having spread out some stalks of Indian corn, some of us began to roast potatoes, when an aid-de-camp, appertaining to a General, came up to the door-way (for door there was none), and said, halloo! halloo! who's here? who's here? when one of our majors coolly replied, "Officers and pigs," which created a general laugh; and the General sent elsewhere to put up his horses.—In the middle of the night, one of the officers, having suddenly awoke out of his sleep, called out with all his might, "come up, come up," fancying that a French cart-horse had got amongst us. A ludicrous scene took place—every one for himself! till at last a heap of living heroes were piled together, each scrambling on the top of the other, and all bawling out "lights! lights!" At last, by main strength, I managed to extricate myself from a pressure nearly as bad as that in the black hole of Calcutta. The soldiers and servants, hearing such a hullabaloo, flocked into the hut, which added to, rather than diminished the disorder of the scene. At length a lighted wisp of straw being brought in, every one stared about, with the greatest astonishment; for the object of terror had vanished, or rather had not appeared. Some crawled out from their hiding places, demanding who had taken away the horse, while the respectful and confounded servants protested, one after the other, that they had not seen a horse, nor taken any away. The alarm took place from some one kicking against the shed, which was mistaken, by the officer who created the alarm, for the hoofs of a horse shod by a French farrier, within an ace of his head! Sleep was banished, and roars of laughter continued throughout the rest of the night.

On the 29th, we got under arms very early, to give the two divisions the "go by;" but our movements had been anticipated, and we received strict injunctions not to stir from our ground, but to follow in the rear, as on the preceding day. We, therefore, again found ourselves creeping along the road as before. When we were within four miles of the river Adour, Field-Marshal Wellington rode up (he had received a blow on the hip from a spent ball at the battle of Orthes, while directing the last attack on the heights,) and said, "Forty-third, what do you do here?" upon which the senior officer told the Field-Marshal that the officer commanding the column would not let us pass. In the short space of ten minutes, the whole of the troops in our front were halted, and we marched forward, and soon after ascended a hill, and formed column in the grand place of the town of St. Sever, immediately overlooking the left bank of the river Adour. Here we found a baker's oven full of hot bread, which a commissary (with a val in his hand,) had laid an embargo on; and it was with the utmost favour that we were permitted to purchase a few loaves, or rather, having taken forcible possession, we were permitted to retain the bread, paying for the same; as they might have found an attempt at a re-capture rather a difficult matter from men suffering from hunger, and out of humour, on a cold hazy spring morning. To whom the bread was afterwards served out I cannot pretend to say.

The rear divisions, with drums beating, were passing near the town, and at last increased into a dense column, while forming up opposite the wooden bridge, which the enemy had set fire to. As soon as the flames were got under, and ladders placed close together to facilitate the passage of the infantry, General Sir Thomas Picton, with his usual ardour, pushed forward his division, the head of which crowded the ladders with all haste.

Our regiment now debouched from the town, with orders to cross, and Lieut.-Col. Ross's brigade of horse-artillery forded the river below the bridge, to accompany us, for the purpose of taking possession of the stores in the populous town of Mont de Marsan, distant twelve miles, situated on the high road to Bordeaux.

When we reached the foot of the bridge, General Sir Thomas Picton declined halting the third division; and it was not until he had received the most positive instructions to halt, that he did so. His troops were standing up and down the ladders as we passed them, when a variety of curses and imprecations took place; all the battles of Spain and Portugal were fought over again, with a mixture of rage and good humour: some vociferated that they could always lead the light division, whilst the older soldiers were satisfied, voluntarily, to follow them: "Let us follow the Lights, it is our right; no division is entitled to bring up our rear except the fourth; we are the takers of fortified towns, and the General-in-chief's three lucky divisions!"

The Duke of Dalmatia now left the high road and the fine town of Bordeaux to its fate, and retired, with his principal force, up the right bank of the Adour, to support his left flank at the town of Barcelone, and to meet General Hill's corps, which had branched off to the right, and was moving in the direction of Air, to threaten the French Marshal's communication with Toulouse; a point he could not give up, it being the pivot of his defence on the formidable river Garonne.

All the way to Mont de Marsan the road is straight and sandy. Instead of being received with hostility at that place, as we anticipated, we were agreeably surprised to see the people flocking without the town in vast crowds, to see les étrangers. Our clothing was old, and almost the whole of the men wore blanket trousers. The French expressed much wonder at seeing the troops of the richest nation in the world so threadbare[²²] and poorly clad. The band struck up, and the women exclaimed, "Ma foi! les Anglais ont de la musique! et voilà de beaux jeunes gens aussi!" The shops were open, and the inhabitants proffered their merchandize with an easy assurance of manner, as if we had been a century amongst them: so much for a divided nation; so much for honour and glory, and the extreme bon ton of civilization!

The seventh and our own division entered the town, where we halted two days, and then our division shifted its quarters into villages two leagues distant from it. Our regiment took possession of the large village of Brinquet. The senior officer was quartered in a château, and invited us all to a dance; the salle à manger was lighted up, and the reflection shone on the highly polished floor.[²³] The band was in attendance, but unfortunately there was only one demoiselle; therefore, making a virtue of necessity, we waltzed with her turn and turn about, until she was quite exhausted; and we finished by partaking of an excellent supper, consisting of the choicest viands, sweetmeats, champaign, and other delicious wines. An officer was indiscreet enough, in the warmth of the moment, to propose to the young lady to send for a few grisettes from the village, assuring her that in Spain the village maids failed not to attend on such occasions. She started with horror at such a monstrous proposal, saying, "Dans la campagne, à la bonheur: mais des grisettes dans un salon, c'est affreux!"

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!"

The Duke of Dalmatia, finding our left flank extended as far as Bordeaux, moved forward, and on the 13th made a feint by the roads of Conche, and Castleneau, (on the left of the Adour), to turn General Hill's right flank. The general-in-chief, to counteract this movement, threatened the town of Plaisance on the right bank of the river, by this means countermanœuvring, and threatening the enemy's right flank, and also their communication with Tarbes.—General Beresford now quitted Bordeaux, leaving the seventh division at that place under Lord Dalhousie, and the army closed up in three columns, for the purpose of ascending both banks of the Adour, towards Tarbes:—our division moved in the direction of the town of Plaisance with the hussar brigade.

One day we were with the 15th hussars on picquet at a mill to the right of the great Chaussée. The soldiers laid themselves down under the sheds with the horses, and the officers reposed on some sacks of flour, just over the wheel of the water mill, which kept up an eternal clattering noise throughout the night. In the morning we came out as white as millers!

On the 17th the weather cleared, the roads dried up, the atmosphere was warm and genial, the hedges and young trees were clothed with a spring verdure, and the country looked most inviting, presenting a similar face to that of England.

On the 19th having finished our march, we encamped on a ridge of hills, about five miles East of Vic-Bigorre which lay in a valley. About two o'clock p. m. we were ordered to stand to our arms, and on reaching the summit of the hill, we saw the third division attack that town. The sun shone forth in full lustre, and a vehement fire of small arms and cannon almost enveloped with volumes of smoke, the scene of contest. We moved on the verge of the hills in a parallel line to turn the right flank of the enemy;—a heavy brigade of cavalry during the middle of the combat, turned the right of the French through the meadows close to Vic-Bigorre, and they were finally driven through the place.

I hardly ever recollect a more delightful march than that we enjoyed towards the evening. The sun was sinking behind the western hills, the surrounding country was wrapped in tranquillity, the din of war, had died away. The soldiers were tired, conversation ceased, and no sounds broke on the ear except the tread of the men's footsteps, or the planting of the horses' feet of the hussars, who were riding along in single files, or going off to the side of the road, so as not to retard our march.

[22] The soldiers carried their new clothing, which they had lately received, and which was not yet altered and made up, on the top of their knapsacks.

[23] The floor and stairs are polished in France, as in old fashioned gentlemen's houses in the interior of England.

CHAPTER VII.

Advance towards Tarbes—Sharp and successful encounter of the riflemen with the French, who are forced to retire from Tarbes—A beautiful coup-d'œil—Retreating movement of the enemy towards Toulouse—The little French cobbler and his daughter—A burdensome benefactor—Inconveniences of a miry march—The author's adventure at a farm-house—The conscious hosts—A true French château—Approach of the troops towards Toulouse—Critical situation of the author and another officer.

We did not halt and encamp until an hour after dark. On the 20th in the morning we passed the road leading towards Rabastens on our left hand, where a picquet of the hussars had planted their vedettes. When within a short distance of Tarbes the hussars rode forward, and pushed their line of vedettes half way up the hills to the left of the road, with their carbines resting on their thighs, and within one hundred yards of the French infantry, who did not fire, although stationed on the verge of the wood.

Two battalions of rifle corps immediately filed off the road, mounted the hill, and began a most severe skirmish with the enemy, who made such a desperate opposition, that the rifles were obliged to close; the French charged, but the rifles were immoveable, and, for two or three minutes, the combatants were firing in each other's faces. At last the rifles beat them back, and carried the wood.

We could also see the right of the enemy formed on some heights round a windmill two miles to our left, where the sixth division attacked them; and the cannon continued to play at this point. While the right of our army made a demonstration of crossing to the right bank of the Adour, opposite the town of Tarbes, two hundred chasseurs à cheval blocked up the wide road opposite to us. It had hedges on each side; our regiment formed column to the left of it, on a piece of waste ground; and a troop of the tenth hussars rode up and formed across it from hedge to hedge, opposed to the French horse. Two vedettes of the Chasseurs instantly walked their horses within one hundred yards of the tenth, and invited them to charge; several of us stood on the flank of our dragoons, and told them to stop a minute or two, until a company crept along the hedge to take the chasseurs in flank when their main body seeing this instantly wheeled threes about and unmasked two pieces of cannon, which they fired at half range, and both balls flew close over the heads of the hussars. Owing to the attack of the sixth division taking the right of the enemy in reverse, they were thrown on two sides of a square, and obliged to retire from Tarbes, refusing their right face, while covering the retreat of their left wing!

The horse artillery now came forward at full trot, protected by the tenth hussars, who by half-squadrons, filled up the intervals between the guns, which presented a most picturesque and martial effect. Without further delay, the rest of our division followed up the hill to the left, in support of the rifles; and on reaching the summit a most interesting spectacle presented itself. The town of Tarbes lay in the valley to the right close to the Adour; the dense red columns of our right wing were in the act of passing it with cavalry and artillery; while the glitter of the enemy's bayonets formed a brilliant spectacle, and the tail of their winding columns covered the country, as they rapidly threaded the by-roads through small woods, villages, and over hill and dale. They were also running in a dense crowd on the high road towards Tournay, (threatened by the hussars, and the horse-artillery) where a rapid interchange of cannon balls took place, and we were in momentary expectation of overtaking them, when broken ground and hedges suddenly intervened, and they eluded our grasp.

A French captain stood by the road side imploring his life, and calling out for the English, in evident fear of the Portuguese and Spaniards; he held a commission in his hand, and both his eyes were shot out of their sockets, and hanging on his cheeks!—On our descending from the rough country into a valley, the enemy were ascending a steep ridge rising out of it, covered at its base by a rivulet. Our army were forming up in order of battle ready for the assault, but the day was too far advanced: the French then opened their cannon all along the ridge, and particularly against our right wing, opposite the high road leading to the town of Tournay. During the twilight, the bright flashes of the cannon had a very pretty effect—the sixth division had followed them up, and we could hear their firing an hour after nightfall, while still attacking and taking in reverse the extreme right of the enemy—which obliged them to retreat during the night from this formidable range of heights.

On the following morning we crossed the heights in our front, the enemy being in full retreat towards Toulouse—by a flank march to the right. We cut in upon the high road towards St. Gaudens, on which the second division were marching. The weather was cold, with sharp cutting winds, and a succession of rains set in.

The second day we entered a small town crowded with troops; the rain descended in such torrents, that the cavalry horses were put into the lower rooms of the houses, and we were quartered in the house of a cobbler, which was divided into three compartments: the soldiers filled the loft; the horses the kitchen; and we put up in the shop, in which there were two beds in dark recesses. The little cobbler, seeing our boots soaked through, very good humouredly proposed making us some bonne soupe, and, without further preamble, set about the cuisine. His figure was unique—he wore a cocked-hat square to the front, and as old as the hills. His hair was greased to excess, and grimed with the remains of powder, ending in a queue of nine inches long, and about four in circumference, tightly bound with a leathern thong. His height was hardly more than five feet: he possessed a swarthy broad bony visage, small penetrating grey eyes, thick, bushy, black eye brows, a short neck, long sinewy arms, covered with hair, (the shirt sleeves being tucked up), large hands and feet, narrow shoulders, short body, broad hips, and bow-legs—and was the reputed father of a delicate daughter of about fifteen years of age, with light hair, skin as fair as alabaster, and cheeks vying with roses;—she meekly lent a willing hand in making us welcome to their abode, strewed with old shoes, sabot-lasts, leather, soles, heels, waxed ends, and live poultry,—the latter being tolerated as guests, owing to the urgent entreaties of the little grisette, who was in great dread that they might be plucked, if left to roost in the loft amongst the soldiery. A large iron kettle was slung over the wood fire, and filled with water, into which a few cabbage leaves were first immersed, and, when it simmered, half a pound of hog's lard was added (from an earthen jar hanging by a cord from a large beam), with a little pepper and salt; half a dozen brown pans were then laid out, into which our host cut with a clasp knife some slices of coarse bread, and with a wooden ladle, the contents of the cauldron were poured over it, the grease floating on the surface of the boiling liquid. La voilà! said our host. La voilà, messieurs, la bonne soupe! To refrain from appreciating the kind intentions of the cobbler, and his fair daughter, was impossible; but we could not partake of such a mess.

The times of scarcity were gone by, and as our canteens arrived at this juncture, stored with every thing good, and a keg of excellent wine, we invited the civil little cobbler to partake, and he spent a glorious evening, shedding tears over his cups, and declaring that les Anglais were de très bons garçons; while the daughter sitting in the chimney corner, sang some pretty French songs. At the usual hour of rest, by common consent we laid down on one bed, and the cobbler and his daughter turned into the other; but, for the sake of decorum, the father lay with his head on the bolster, and the daughter placed a pillow at the foot of the bed, and thus turning dos-à-dos, they avoided each others feet, and by the glimmer of the fire, we could see the little girl's bright eyes under the coverlet.

Making our adieu on the following morning, and the weather clearing up, we continued our march, at the end of which the troops entered the various chateaux and farm-houses on each side of the way. The country being very much intersected with hedges, green fields, plantations, and gardens, we suddenly encountered an old man near some scattered cottages, who was so terrified at our unexpected appearance, that he ran up, seized the bridles of our horses, and led us to a large oven, filled with ready-baked bread, all of which he insisted upon giving to the soldiers: thence he took us to an out-house, where there was a quantity of wine casks: "All, messieurs," exclaimed the peasant, "is yours." We assured him that every thing consumed would be duly paid for, which he would not hear of, in his over eagerness and civility, and, breaking from us, he rushed into the ranks of the soldiers, (who were quietly at ordered arms, waiting until the different houses should be marked off for their reception, according to usage), and bawled out, "camarades!" although your officers will not sanction your having bread and wine, I insist upon supplying you. At length, to put an end to such rhapsodies, we agreed that, at the utmost, he might give to each soldier a pint of wine, of which they cheerfully and thankfully partook.

On the following morning, when the soldiers had fallen in, and the over-generous peasant found what an orderly set of people he had to do with, he boldly came forward and demanded payment, and, when expostulated with, bawled out with the greatest indecency, before the rest of the assembled villagers, that we were des voleurs, and with the greatest effrontery put himself at the head of the company, as if to stop its march. Such vile behaviour so disgusted us, that we ordered one of the soldiers to put him out of the way.

The rain began to pour down in torrents, and the road was of such a clayey substance, and so sticky, that it tore the gaiter-straps and the shoes from off the soldiers' feet, and they were obliged to put them on the tops of their knapsacks, while trudging along bare-footed, and hardly able to drag one leg after the other. This so much impeded our march, that it was nearly dark before we halted on the road, and the mounted officers were ordered to seek shelter for the men, right and left, but not further than a mile from the post of alarm.

Several officers started across the country, each fixing on some particular house. As I perceived a hill a short way off, I galloped up it, from whence, half a mile further, I saw a spacious farm and barns, the whole being enclosed by a high wall. Knowing the general civility and peaceable demeanour of the inhabitants, without further precaution, I rapped loudly at the large gates; but no person came forward, and all the windows were closed; however, quite satisfied of getting an entrance upon the arrival of the company, I rode round, to convince myself of the place being inhabited, when all at once a powerful and ferocious wolf dog bounded over the wall, and tore at the hind quarters of my horse with such ferocity, that the animal trembled, and although I used my spurs, was almost immoveable. I then drew my sabre, but, whichever way I turned my horse, the dog kept behind, and to add to my danger, a man opened a shutter with a gun in his hand. As I could not get my animal to stir, the only resource left was to dismount and engage the savage brute in foot, (my sabre had a sharp rough edge), trusting that the peasant might miss me the first shot. At this critical moment, the company mounted the hill, and the man called off his dog.

My horse was bleeding, and the heel was nearly torn off my boot:—the women came forth from the house, and threw wide the gates for our admittance, and almost prostrated themselves at our feet, expressing the greatest solicitude, and protesting, that the dog had broken loose; and, when questioned about the gun, they vehemently assured us that the man, knowing I was in danger, as a last resource intended to shoot his own dog; this excuse was ridiculous, for the moment the animal heard the voice of its master it ceased to attack. Although we were aware that these were false assertions, both from the actions and professions of the people, yet we could not do otherwise than feign to believe them. Without doubt, on my first appearance, they thought me a straggling marauder, and they were only about to act as we might have done against foreigners in our own country, who might perchance come for the purpose of eating our provisions, levying contributions, and trampling down our fields; for although such outrages were strictly forbidden in the British army, yet people living in secluded farm-houses could not be supposed to credit such peaceable reports, until they had received ocular demonstration of the fact.

Notwithstanding the gaiety of our manner for the rest of the day, the women seemed to dread the coming night, feeling conscious of an act having been committed which they apprehended would not pass unpunished. The men did not show themselves after dark, and it was droll to witness the many little kind acts of the females, to strive to banish from our minds the occurrence.—Even on the following morning, they loaded our animals with poultry, and filled our keg with fourteen pints of inestimable wine. As they seemed in affluent circumstances, we did not refuse these peace-offerings.

At the close of this day, we were quartered in a chateau, not unlike an old-fashioned gentleman's house in England. The out-houses were in a delapidated condition, the grounds were indifferently laid out, with the trees and avenues cut into various shapes, in representation of birds, &c. An old carriage stood in an out-house, and the horses had long tails, and were as fat as butter, and not unlike a Flanders cart horse.

The French gentleman, while showing his premises, held a rake in his hand, and was dressed in a green velvet forage cap, a frieze coat made like a dressing gown, coarse trowsers, and wooden shoes; but in the evening he was well attired; in fact quite metamorphosed. The linen, napkins and plate were in plenty, but we were much surprised at the common clasp knives at table; otherwise, every thing (such as massive plate and old fashioned china) was good, and well laid out. The stairs were carpeted and polished, and the rooms were without grates, the wood being burnt on hobs. The filles de chambre left their wooden clogs at the bottom of the stairs, walking about the rooms in their stocking'd feet, and, although coarsely dressed, and of rough exterior, they executed all the necessary offices with a respectful attention and extreme good nature, and, when offered some silver in the morning, they refused it, as if to say, "Ciel! how can we take the money of les étrangers, et les jeunes officiers?"

On the sixth day we entered a town within a short distance of Toulouse. The enemy lined the opposite bank of a small rapid river, about four hundred yards from the town; a howitzer was planted over the bridge, and a group of French officers were assembled in conversation.

Another officer and myself by degrees sauntered past our sentinels, who were not pushed beyond the houses of the town. When within a hundred yards of them, we made the usual salute, but, to our astonishment, it was not returned, and the whole of the group left the spot, with the exception of one officer, who leaned on the breech of the gun, as much as to intimate that we were too far in their country to expect confabs and that the time was come to stand to their cannon.

We regretted having placed ourselves so completely in their power: to go back was impossible with any security, if their intentions were of a hostile nature. Trusting however to the well-known courtesy of les militaires Français, we left the road, and walked up to the bank of the river, within fifteen yards of a French sentinel, who, with his musket carelessly thrown across his body, eyed us steadily, as if to examine whether our approach should be received in a hostile, or amicable manner. Appearances certainly looked as if we had come expressly to reconnoitre the nature of the ground, and as we slowly retired, we momentarily expected a round of grape shot, and were not a little relieved to find ourselves once more behind the houses; for there was not a bush or any thing to screen us from their observation the whole of the way.

CHAPTER VIII.

Flank movement to the right—Method of feeding cattle in Gascony—Catching a goose—Halt at St. Simon—Cross the Garonne and advance on Toulouse—The French take up a position to the east of that town—The Spaniards attack the heights of La Pugade—Their terrible slaughter and precipitate retreat—The enemy advance against the fourth and sixth divisions—The sixth division carry the front of the enemy's position—Retreat of the French from Toulouse towards Carcassonne.

In the middle of the night we were aroused and ordered to pack up and accoutre, and make a flank march to the right, over execrable roads, in order to support the second division, who were to cross the river Garonne above Toulouse, at the village of Portet. The number of pontoons, however, proving inadequate to cover the width of the river, it was tried elsewhere—On the 31st of March the pontoons were laid down within a short distance of Roques, General Hill crossed: but the ground was found so swampy, that he was obliged to repass the river.

In this part of the country, wine abounded to such an extent, that serious alarm was experienced for the morals and sobriety of the troops. Almost every shed, and even the stables, were half filled with wine casks, (owing to the long war, and to the want of exportation), and, during the rainy weather, it was necessary to beg of the soldiers to be moderate. Publicly they were not permitted to partake of the wine; but how could they be effectually hindered from broaching casks under which they slept, after being covered with the mud of the miry roads, or soaked through and through from incessant rains? and such was the abundance of the juice of the grape, that a peasant was glad to sell a hogshead of the best wine for twenty francs, which was divided among our several small messes.

The people of Gascony have a particular method of feeding their cattle: the trap doors or sliding partitions communicate with the interior of the kitchens, and when thrown aside, the oxen or cows thrust in their heads, and are fed by the hand with the stalks of maize, or Indian corn.

One evening, while in the kitchen of a small house, round the cheerful blaze of a crackling wood-fire, partaking of our dinner, and the servant girls standing behind us feeding the cattle, we were suddenly aroused by the cackling of the poultry in a large out-house—where the soldiers were quartered; and, on ascending the ladder, we observed some feathers scattered about the floor. The soldiers stood up and saluted, as if no depredations had been committed. One soldier alone remained sitting, and feigning to be in great pain from the effects of a sore foot. The officer with me having shrewd suspicions of this individual, said, "Get up,—surely you can stand upon one leg."—"Oh no!" answered this piece of innocence, (possessing a muscular frame, and a face as brown as a berry), "no indeed Sir, I cannot; for, besides the pain in my foot, I am otherwise much indisposed." Finding however that we were determined, he slowly and reluctantly arose from his crouching posture, by which he had concealed a half-plucked goose. This was death by martial law, and we put on a most ferocious aspect, and threatened I know not what. However, as soon as the lecture was over, and we were out of the soldier's sight, we could no longer refrain from giving way to our hilarity, at the old marauder being so fully detected. Who could kill an old soldier for plucking a goose? The bird being duly paid for, the kind-hearted woman not only gave it back to the soldiers, but, we understood, cooked it for their supper.

We now halted at St. Simon and pushed our advanced posts within two miles of Toulouse, situated on the right bank of the Garonne; but the enemy still held the Faubourg of St. Ciprien, facing us on the left of the river.

One day we passed in a handsome chateau, with all the rooms on the parterre; it was well furnished, and the doors and windows opened on a spacious lawn, from which descended a flight of stone steps of about thirty feet in breadth, to an extensive garden laid out à l'Anglaise, in broad and serpentine walks, labyrinths, fish ponds, fruit trees, exotics, rose trees and flower beds, which in the summer must altogether have formed a lovely retreat. The inhabitants had fled from the chateau, and all its windows, and doors, were flapping, and jarring in the wind; the knapsacks were suspended in the gilded ornaments of its mirrors, and the soldiers reposed on the silken covering of the chairs and couches.

On the night of the 3rd of April, our division broke up from before Toulouse, (the second division taking our station), crossed the river Touch and marched northerly down the Garonne, as a corps of communication between the right and left wings of the army—in readiness to move to either flank.

On the morning of the 4th the left wing under Lord Beresford crossed the Garonne, just above the town of Grenade, by a pontoon-bridge.

In the afternoon the rain came down in torrents, and the river was so swollen and the current so strong, that the pontoon-bridge was obliged to be taken up, and Lord Beresford was cut off with his corps for four days on the right bank of the river, while the enemy had the opportunity of attacking him, or debouching by the Faubourg de St. Ciprien against him—of which they did not take advantage.

During these few days we obtained good shelter in the fine large farm-houses with which the country abounded, every one of them having a large round pigeon-house at the corner, (which was entered by a regular door from the interior of the house); the swarms of pigeons were so great, that they literally covered the whole face of the country. Here we ate pigeon-pie, omelets, and eggs in profusion. "Diable," said the French, "comme les Anglais mangent des œufs!"

On the 8th the bridge of boats being restored, we mounted our horses to see a Spanish army cross; and a more bombastical display I never beheld! The Spaniards crossed by companies: at the head of each marched an officer with a drawn sword, (accompanied by a drummer), and strutting in time to the tapping or roll of the drum; exclaiming, while looking pompously over his shoulder, "Vamos, guerréros!" The very bridge seemed to respond to such glorious appeals, for it rose and fell with a gentle undulating motion, to the rub dub, rub a dub, of Spain's martial drum.

As soon as these Guerréros had formed column on the sod of Languedoc, a heavy brigade of artillery passed the bridge, and one of the cannon becoming stationary in the middle of it, one of the pontoons nearly went under water; and, had not the drivers whipped and spurred with all their might, in another instant, the boat would have been swamped, and the gun would have dragged the horses and drivers into the rapid and furious torrent.

The bridge was again taken up during the night, and, on the following day, our division formed on a rising ground near Aussonne to be in readiness to pass it; but, having waited nearly the whole day, the Duke of Wellington quitted the spot extremely angry, leaving Sir Colin Campbell to superintend the finishing of it.

At two o'clock on the morning of the 10th, our division crossed the pontoon-bridge, and, bringing up our left shoulder near Fenoulhiet, six miles from Toulouse the army marched in parallel columns on that place.

The country north of the town is flat, and on every side intersected with rural cottages, enclosed by gardens, fruit trees, and small plains, or fields of corn.

When within two miles of Toulouse, we could distinguish the black columns of the enemy filing out of the town to the eastward, and forming in order of battle on the Terre de Cabade, which was crowned with redoubts, and constituted the apex of their grand position nearly three miles long, and extending in a southerly direction by Calvinet, towards the road of Montauban. They also occupied with a small body of troops and two pieces of light artillery, the detached eminence of la Borde de La Pugade, for the purpose of watching the movements on the left and centre of our army. This small hill was of fallow ground, without hedges, trees, or entrenchments.

At the first view, the French army seemed to be formed from the right bank of the Garonne, and resting their right flank on the detached hill of la Borde de la Pugade, which, in reality, only formed a dislocated elbow of their position. The ancient wall of the town was lined by the enemy, being covered at a short distance by the royal canal (which communicates with the Garonne), and runs in a half circle round the north and west sides of Toulouse. Over it there were six bridges, within five miles, occupied as têtes-du-pont; the three to the southward being marked by the before-mentioned heights, which gave the enemy an exceedingly strong position, and to embrace which it was necessary to split our army into three distinct bodies, to be ready to fight independently of each other—as follows:—

Lord Hill's corps was stationed on the left bank of the Garonne (to coop up the enemy in the entrenched faubourg of St. Ciprien), but was so completely cut off from the army destined to fight the battle, owing to the river intervening, that the nearest communication with it was, at least, sixteen miles by the pontoon bridge we had crossed in the morning—although, as the bird flew, little more than two miles from the right flank of the army, composed of four divisions, and a corps of Spaniards which were destined to fight the battle. The right wing consisted of the third and light divisions, the centre of the Spaniards, and the left wing of the fourth and sixth divisions with the great bulk of the cavalry, ready to shoot forward from the village of Montblanc, to throw the enemy on two sides of a square.

At nine o'clock in the morning the forcing began on the Paris road near a large building in front of the tête-du-pont, in the vicinity of Graniague, by the third division with its right on the river Garonne. The left brigade of the light division branched off to the right, to make a sham attack opposite the tête-de-pont, near les Minimes, and to keep up the link with the third division; while the first brigade edged off to the left to support the Spaniards now moving forwards in échelon on our left. While they were crossing a small rivulet, two of the enemy's cannon fired on them from the detached eminence of la Borde de la Pugade. As soon as the Spaniards had crossed the stream or ditch, they rapidly advanced and drove the French from their advanced post, behind which they formed in columns for the grand attack. At this time a sprinkling musketry was kept up to our right by the third division and our second brigade, while driving the enemy behind their têtes-du-pont.

At eleven o'clock the Spaniards moved forward single-handed, to attack the heights of la Pugade, under a heavy fire of musketry and grape shot, which thinned their ranks and galled them sadly. The ground was fallow, of a gentle ascent, without hedges or trees, so that every shot told with a fatal precision. Notwithstanding this, they closed, and kept onwards. The French position was a blaze of flashing cannon, and sparkling musketry, and the iron balls were cutting through the fallow ground, tearing up the earth and bounding wantonly through the country. The fatal moment had arrived: the Spaniards could do no more: the shouting of the French army was daggers to their hearts, and thunder to their ears, and when within fifty yards of crowning all their hopes, down went the head of their column, as if the earth had opened and swallowed them up. A deep hollow road ran parallel with the enemy's works, into which the affrighted column crowded. Terrible shelter! for at this time the enemy sprang over their entrenchments, and stood over their victims, pouring down the bullets on their devoted heads with fatal precision, so that two thousand of them fell a prey to the adversary, without destroying hardly any of their opponents; and, as if in anticipation of such a result, the enemy had constructed a battery of heavy calibre at the bridge of Montauban, which raked the road, and ploughed up the heaps of the living and the dead—the former crawling under the latter to screen themselves for a few short moments from the merciless effects of the enemy's projectiles.

The rear of the Spaniards now closed up, and, stretching their necks over the brink of the fatal gulf, they turned about and fled like chaff before the wind, amid the volume and dense clouds of rolling smoke majestically floating in the air, as if to veil from the enemy the great extent of their triumph.

As soon as the fugitives could be scraped together in a lump, they once again moved forward to make a second attack, led on by a group of Spanish officers, on foot, and on horseback. The shot levelled them to the earth, without any chance of success: the disorganized column once more stood in a mass on the bank of the fatal hollow road, by this means bringing all the enemy's fire to a focus; but at the sight of the mangled bodies of their dying comrades, their last sparks of courage forsook them, and they fled from the field, heedless of the exhortations of many of their officers, who showed an example worthy of their ancient renown. The French again bounded over their entrenchments, and at full run came round the left flank of the disconcerted Spaniards (at a point where the road was not so deep), and plied them with more bullets, nor ceased to follow them, until they were stopped by the fire of a brigade of guns, (supported by a regiment of English heavy dragoons), and attacked on their left flank by the rifle corps, supported by our brigade. This movement prevented them from cutting asunder and separating the two wings of our army.

The enemy, finding that they had totally defeated the Spaniards, immediately moved a body of troops to make head against the fourth and sixth divisions, and cavalry, which were now moving along the river Ers, parallel with the heights of Calvanet, before bringing up their left shoulders to attack that position; but, owing to the marshy state of the ground, the troops were much impeded on their march.

After the repulse of the Spaniards, the battle almost ceased, with the exception of an irregular musketry-fire amongst the detached houses bordering the canal. During this pause in the grand event, several of us fell asleep (under the gentle rays of an April sun), from want of rest, having been under arms all the previous day, and marching nearly the whole of the night.

How long I enjoyed this slumber I cannot say, for a round shot whizzing, close over my head, caused me hastily to start on my feet. For a few seconds, I almost fancied I was at a review, or dreaming of it, for the right wing of the British army were within less than cannon range opposite the left wing of the enemy, whose bright arms and brazen eagles glistened on the venerable towers of Toulouse.

Soon after this, we descried an officer of our regiment, (who was an extra aide-de-camp to Gen. Baron Alten) riding at the base of the enemy's position, and turning and twisting his horse at full speed, which induced us to imagine that he was wounded, and no longer able to manage the animal, which appeared to be running away with him. Suddenly he fell from his saddle to the ground, and the horse made a dead stop. Of course we thought he was killed, when, to our great surprise, he remounted, and came towards us at a canter with a hare in his arms, that he had ridden down.

In the middle of the day, the sixth division crossed the valley opposite the heights of Calvanet; and the interchanged cannon shots, and the forked musketry, rattled without intermission. At length, amid charges of cavalry and sanguinary fighting (for the enemy marched down the hill to meet them,) this division gained the French position, and took a redoubt, which, however, they could hardly maintain, owing to the great loss they had sustained in moving up the hill; for, while struggling with the enemy's infantry in front, their second line had been charged by the French horse[²⁴].

During this part of the combat the fourth division was edging off by an oblique march to its left, to turn the enemy's right flank near the road of Montauban, which manœuvre greatly enhanced the victory on this hard-fought day.

The French several times returned to the charge on the plateau, and made a most desperate attempt at four o'clock in the afternoon to retake the great redoubt in the centre, but without effect.

Owing to this failure the French quietly evacuated the redoubts on the left of their position on the canal, on the heights of Terre Cabade, and their whole army retired behind the têtes-du-pont, and the faubourg of St. Etienne.