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Title: The subaltern

Author: G. R. Gleig

Release date: April 27, 2024 [eBook #73476]

Language: English

Original publication: Edinburgh: William Blackwood and Sons

Credits: MWS, Graeme Mackreth and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images generously made available by The Internet Archive/Canadian Libraries)


*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SUBALTERN ***






THE SUBALTERN




  THE SUBALTERN

  ORIGINALLY PUBLISHED IN BLACKWOOD'S MAGAZINE


  BY
  G.R. GLEIG, M.A.
  CHAPLAIN-GENERAL OF HER MAJESTY'S FORCES


  LIBRARY EDITION
  REVISED AND CORRECTED, WITH A NEW PREFACE


      "Hæc olim meminisse
  Juvabit."

  "Oh memory, fond memory,
  When all things fail we turn to thee."


  WILLIAM BLACKWOOD AND SONS
  EDINBURGH AND LONDON
  MDCCCLXXII




PREFACE TO THE NEW EDITION

OF

'THE SUBALTERN.'


Forty-six years have run their course since the concluding pages of
the following narrative were written--not far short of sixty since the
latest of the events recorded therein were to a living and breathing
generation present realities. A large space this latter in the life of
the individual man--a not inconsiderable one in the existence even of
nations. Of the influence which it has exercised over the destinies
of the four Powers which, at the opening of the interval, were at
deadly strife one with another, this is scarcely the occasion on
which to speak. The general results are indeed before us, not to be
misapprehended; but the multiplicity of causes which combined to bring
them about, the most painstaking and well-instructed of chroniclers
would find it difficult to put in order within the limits of a volume,
much more of a preface. France, which in 1813 bled at every pore in
the vain attempt to sustain the First Empire, has since accepted and
driven away again, one after another, the Restoration, the Orleanist
rule, the Republic, and the Second Empire; and now, humiliated and
maimed, is striving, under a second republic, to recruit her energies
for whatever the future may present to her. From Spain, the Bourbons,
whom the arms of England replaced upon the throne, are to all human
appearance permanently expelled, after a long succession of plots and
civil wars, which the selfish policy of the last king of the race had
bequeathed to his country as a parting legacy. Portugal, likewise,
though less severely tried than her neighbours, has had her troubles
too, in the internecine contests of brother against brother, and uncle
against niece. And if at length she may have found a way of escape
from anarchy, she owes it mainly to the good sense of the two last of
her sovereigns, themselves the offshoots of a family remarkable for
its prudence, and more fortunate than any other royal house in Europe
in giving to constitutional monarchies their existing dynasties. As
to England, what shall we say of her? No foot of foreign enemy has
polluted her soil, no secret conspiracy nor open revolt has set her
people in array one against another. Yet the constitution which was
settled for her two centuries ago, and which, in 1813, her wisest
sons held to be perfect, has been left far behind. The doors of her
Parliament are open now to men of all religious opinions and of none.
She has determined the point, for the first time in her history, that
there is no necessary connection between Church and State; and recent
legislation seems to declare that the honour and interests of a great
country are safer in the keeping of the uneducated and impulsive, than
of the cultivated and reflecting classes. All this is true; yet let us
be thankful that, in an age of revolutions, our own downward progress
has not been more rapid. We have still a throne, which is assumed to be
hereditary, and to which loyalty is professed. We have still in England
and in Scotland established churches. We have a House of Lords also,
which the wise among us reverence and look up to; and laws which, when
rightly administered, are equal to any strain that can be put upon
them. How long these, or any other of the institutions which we owe to
"the wisdom of our ancestors," are likely to endure, is a question more
easily asked than answered. This much, however, is at least probable,
that if they go to the wall, they will go gradually, and that the
generations which inherit the change will learn to adapt themselves
to it, and to make the most of it. The greatest attainable amount of
happiness to the greatest possible number of persons--that is, or
ought to be, the end of all governments; and the government which most
effectually achieves that end will be the best government, call it by
what name you may.

The particular tract of country wherein the scene of the following
narrative is laid has undergone fewer changes, whether physical or
social, than might perhaps have been anticipated in the course of
six long and very busy decades. All the great natural features of
the district,--the hill, the vale, the river, the mountain, and the
sea,--remain, of course, precisely what they were. The Gironde, as the
confluence of the Garonne and the Dordogne is called, still rolls its
waters, after passing through Bourdeaux, in a turbid volume towards
the Bay of Biscay. The Landes, succeeding to the rich culture of vine,
corn-field, and orchard, receive you now, as they did of old, into a
melancholy expanse of dark forests and sandy plains. Along either bank,
at the mouth of the Adour, two scrubby pine-woods take you into their
shelter; while in the far distance beyond, the bold outline of the
Pyrenees towers up into the horizon. Nor on the whole can it be said
that man has done much to modify in any perceptible degree the general
character either of places or of persons. Towns may grow larger and
more populous from year to year; villages have a tendency to stretch
themselves out;--and one in particular, which in 1813 was little
better than a seaside hamlet, has expanded into a gay and luxurious
watering-place. But the bulk of the people seem to be exactly what they
were sixty years ago--frugal, hard-working, honest, not over-cleanly
perhaps in their domestic habits, and, though far from melancholy, a
graver race than the peasants of France are usually believed to be.
In fact, considering the tendency of railway communication to break
down, wherever it is established, local customs altogether, the matter
to be wondered at is, that we should find so much of their primitive
simplicity still surviving among these Gascons; for the rail it is
which has wrought most surely whatever innovation is perceptible among
them. The rail has put the old _chaussée_ out of date, and brought
the Spanish frontier within eighteen hours of Paris, and to him who
shall use his opportunities aright, within thirty hours of London.
Hence that which used to be regarded as an out-of-the-way corner of
Europe, worth notice only because it witnessed the closing operations
of the Peninsular War, is visited now by strangers from all parts of
the world--some hurrying by without a pause, intent on business or
pleasure elsewhere; others finding in the district itself a temporary
home, which the climate, especially in winter and spring, renders as
salubrious as the magnificent scenery in which it abounds makes it
agreeable. The Gascons cannot, of course, fail more or less to be
acted upon by this tide of immigration. As yet, however, it seems but
slightly to have affected their characters and manners, which, in all
essential points, continue to be what they were when the great Duke led
his victorious columns through the passes of their mountains, not to
plunder or harass, but to deliver their fathers from the outrages which
they suffered at the hands of their own countrymen in arms.

The railroad from Bourdeaux to the frontier runs parallel, or nearly
so, with the old _chaussée_, as far as Labenne, a little village with a
station, about eight miles from Bayonne. There the two lines separate.
The old road enters Bayonne, as it did long ago, to the left of the
citadel, descending the steep hill on which the fortress stands, and
passing through the suburb of St Esprit, in which, during the sortie
on the 14th April 1814, most of the fighting took place. The railway,
on the contrary, sweeps seaward, and, touching the Adour at Boucaut,
runs up-stream by the brink of the river, and so passes through the
lower outworks of the citadel to the station. There the traveller who
desires to rest for an hour or two will alight close to a church in
which General Hay was killed, and round which that desperate struggle
took place of which mention is made in chapter xxiv. of the Subaltern's
story.

The alterations effected in Bayonne since the siege are neither
numerous nor important. The intrenched camp, of which Marshal Soult
made it the key, has indeed disappeared, while the permanent works
are strengthened and enlarged, so as to adapt them, in some degree
at least, to those modifications in the art of attack and defence
which the increased power of artillery and the resources of modern
engineering skill have brought about. The town itself, however, remains
very nearly such as it was. In the Rue de Gouvernment and the adjacent
streets some handsome modern houses have indeed been built, but the
main portion of the city retains nearly all its old landmarks. We have
the same tall houses looking into each other's eyes across the narrow
streets; the same narrow _trottoirs_ beneath the houses, so completely
sheltered from the sun's rays as to produce in him who walks along them
some such sensation as he might experience were he at the bottom of a
well. Now also, as formerly, all these narrow streets converge towards
the cathedral, which stands upon the highest point of a gently-rising
eminence, and forms, so to speak, the centre of a star, whence
multitudinous rays are thrown out. The effect is singular, and, when
looked at from the cathedral tower, is really very striking.

The cathedral itself, which in 1814 had suffered grievously from years
of neglect, has had of late a good deal of attention paid to it.
Indeed it was one of the most praiseworthy characteristics of the era
of the Second Empire, that considerable efforts were made in it, both
by the Government and private persons, to blot out the traces of the
Vandalism which had prevailed under the First Empire and during the
First Republic, especially with regard to churches. Here a capital
sum, producing not less than fifteen hundred a-year of interest, was
bequeathed by a pious individual for the purpose of restoration; and
the will of the testator having been carefully attended to, the edifice
stands forth again in something like its original splendour. The
cathedral of Bayonne is about as large as one of our own cathedrals
of the second order--to which, indeed, in its proportions and general
style of architecture, it bears a close resemblance.

Of the works thrown up by the English during the last siege, not a
vestige remains. The Blue House, as we used to call a chateau standing
in the suburb of St Pierre, and in the garden of which we established
our most formidable mortar-battery, retains no traces of the fire to
which it was then exposed. The shot-holes are all filled up, the walls
are whitewashed, and the avenue by which it is approached has been
replanted. Nobody could tell that our axes cut down trees as umbrageous
as those which now flank the roadway on either side, that their stems
might be converted into platforms, and their tops and stouter branches
into stockades and _abattis_. In one particular, however, commendable
care has been taken to save from obliteration a memorial of the siege.
The graves of the British officers who fell in the sortie are well kept
up, each English consul as he came into office having received the
charge from his predecessor, and all religiously attending to it.

The railway from Bayonne to the frontier passes over the Adour and
the Nive upon a new bridge, higher up the stream than the old stone
bridge. It then runs along the valley in which lie the small lakes
or large ponds referred to in this narrative. These it leaves to the
right, and crossing the _chaussée_, enters a tunnel driven beneath the
ridge on which the mayor's house stands. By-and-by the train rushes
through another valley, sighting the villages of Bidart and Gauthory,
and so on to St Jean de Luz. The station for St Jean de Luz is at a
point just outside the town, where the road to Ascaen branches off.
Leaving it behind, we hurry through a succession of tortuous glens,
and by-and-by, having traversed a deep cutting, we find ourselves at
Handaye, the last town on the French frontier. We are now on the right
of the great Spanish road, which crosses the Bidassoa at the same point
where, in 1813, we found the bridge broken down, and its ruins blocked
by a _tête-de-pont_. Here some delay takes place, national jealousies
having contrived that the gauges on either side of the stream should be
different, and the Customs regulations stringent. The traveller is not,
however, put thereby to very serious inconvenience. If he be disposed
to eat, he will find both at Handaye and at Irun excellent buffets;
if he prefer spending an hour among the outward forms of nature, the
views that meet his gaze on every side will well repay the time lent to
survey them.

Leaving him there, I will ask my reader to return with me to the
point where we last rested, and to visit in my company certain spots
of which he will find mention made in the course of the Subaltern's
narrative; and among these, one in particular will naturally attract
his attention. It was but the other day the favourite summer haunt
of an imperial household: it is still a place much resorted to by
fashionable seekers after health. Sixty years ago it was nothing more
than the quiet village of Biaritz, occupied in perpetuity by fishermen
and lodging-house keepers, and visited in the autumn for sea-bathing
purposes by the wealthier citizens of Bayonne. This latter phase of its
existence is represented by a few old-fashioned houses which stretch
vaguely along the southern ridge towards the church, and thence dip
down again in the direction of the sea, till they reach Porte Vieux.
Even these, however, are rapidly making way for more stately mansions,
though enough of them still remain to present a striking contrast to
the eastern or modern section of the town. This latter, facing the
sea, extends from Porte Vieux well-nigh to the lighthouse. There the
Villa Eugénie comes in, planted at the foot of the lighthouse hill,
and occupying, with its pleasure-grounds and well-kept alleys, a space
which, sixty years ago, was nothing more than a tract of barren sand.

You can reach Biaritz from Bayonne by rail, arriving at the station at
Nigresse; or you may travel from Bayonne by a new road, which, turning
off from the Spanish road at the fifth kilometre, avoids the village
of Anglete, through which the old road ran. This latter, which, after
crowning the heights of the Phare, led over an interesting country,
is now quite deserted. At the point where it joins the great Spanish
road used to stand a post-house, with a vast range of stables and
out-buildings. The post-house, stables, and out-buildings are still
there, but the business has gone from the place, and it is falling
fast into decay. It was along that old road that the Subaltern and his
two friends rode for their lives when chased by French cavalry out of
Biaritz. Neglect has rendered the greater portion of it impassable,
which indeed it would have become throughout, had not the Emperor
caused it to be repaired where it abuts upon Biaritz, and carried it
on a new line round the lake, and through the woods that surround the
mayor's house. This promenade or drive, to which he gave the name of
Bois de Boulogne, is extremely pretty in itself, and commands from
various points glimpses of very interesting scenery. But the point
of most interest to the English traveller is undoubtedly the mayor's
house itself, which, with the grounds about it, the present proprietor,
Monsieur la Bride, has had the good taste to preserve in all their
leading features very much as they were when the four days' battle was
fought.

The landscape, as seen from the top of the house, is magnificent. From
it the traveller commands now, as Sir John Hope did sixty years ago, a
full view of the entire battle-field, including Arcanques and Ustaritz,
with all the country eastward as far as the Cambo Hills, and southwards
to the Ebrun Mountains and the Spanish Pyrenees. The more minute
features of the scene of action are likewise taken in. The hollow road
in which the French formed for their last rush at the house, remains
as it was on the 11th of December 1813. Between it and the house lies
the triangular field, just outside the wood, where the carnage was
fiercest, and of which the proprietor says, that, well manured by the
dead, it still produces such crops as to command thrice the amount
of rent that is given for any other similar extent of ground in the
district. Beyond it, over the hill, and sloping towards Bayonne,
extends the scraggy copse or belt of wood through which the fighting
was close and desperate; and just below the railway lies the lake
into which many of the French, horse and man, were driven. They were
driven not without great promptitude of action on our part; for there
the French cavalry fell upon us with such rapidity and determination,
that, being scattered in loose order, we had just time, favoured by
the swampy nature of the ground, to throw ourselves into circles and
receive them. All these objects Monsieur la Bride points out with
unwearied politeness to the English who visit him, not forgetting the
graves of British officers whom their comrades buried in his garden,
and of which he generously and religiously keeps the outlines sacred.

Leaving the mayor's house, and returning to the great road, we enter
upon the common or broken plain where, on the 10th December 1813, the
other corps of the left column of the army came up in support of the
hard-pressed and hard-fighting fifth division. It was a wild bleak
spot in winter, sixty years ago; it is little changed now. The redoubt
which we threw up, and named after one of the mayor's daughters, has
indeed disappeared; but the belt of wood round which the squadrons
of the 12th and 16th Light Dragoons made their charge keeps its place
exactly as it did then; and the hollow in which the brigade to which
the Subaltern was attached bivouacked that night lacks only the embers
of their watch-fires to make it precisely what it was when they left
it. The same may be said of Bidart and Gauthory, two villages which
we reach in succession--the former lying at the farther base of
the eminence or plateau where the operations just referred to took
place--the latter scattered on either side of the highway, some two or
three miles nearer to St Jean de Luz. In both, the clusters of houses,
which afforded winter quarters to the 85th Light Infantry, appear as if
they had been evacuated but yesterday.

In St Jean de Luz few changes have been effected. The one great
novelty is a sort of breakwater or _digue_ which Napoleon III. began
to construct, with a view to develop the capacities of the port as
a harbour of refuge and an _entrepôt_ of commerce. But the work is
incomplete, and is not likely to be carried further till a more stable
government than the present be set up in France. As to the bridge
over the Nivelle, it is exactly in the state in which we left it; the
piers of the arches which the French blew up stand where they did,
as well as the beams and planks with which we replaced the broken
roadway. It is pointed out to all who are curious in such matters as
the Wellington Bridge. In other respects the town retains all its
original characteristics. The quays, the churches, the hôtel de ville,
the very shops themselves, the house which was Lord Wellington's
headquarters, are precisely what they were; while, as if to preserve
unbroken the associations of the past, the railway station itself has
been constructed outside the town, and is not in any conspicuous manner
connected with it.

Our next point of interest is Urogne. There it lies as it lay sixty
years ago, in the low ground, overlooked by the heights which Soult
had fortified, and which, he flattered himself, would stop our
further progress. There, too, before descending the hillside on the
right of the old carriage-road, stands the chateau, in the library
of which we found, on the 11th of November 1813, a captured English
mail. It seems to be, as far as outward appearances can be trusted,
precisely what it was on that day when I carried off from it two bits
of plunder--a Spanish grammar, which I still retain, and a small and
prettily-enamelled pair of bellows. Alas! this latter, of which the
value could not be overrated in bivouac, has long ago disappeared.
_Sic transit gloria mundi._ Gone, too, is the three-gun battery, the
fire from which swept the main street of the town, and struck against
the old church wall without passing through it. My blessing be upon
that sacred pile! It gave me shelter in the night between the 10th and
the 11th, and some hundreds of brave men besides, all of them wearied
with long hours of watching and battle. They had not failed before
lying down to cover with the consecrated earth of the churchyard such
of their comrades as had fallen. Where now are they themselves?

  "Their swords are rust,
  Their bodies are dust,
  Their souls are with the Lord, we trust."

The little town or village of Urogne has lost all traces of the
struggle which went on, first to carry, and afterwards to keep it. Its
four straight streets, its "place" or square, the central point of
which is the church just referred to, are all as if the sound of war
had never been heard among them. So appear to be the hedgerows and deep
shady lanes that give to the surrounding district an aspect singularly
English. As we approach the frontier, however, and in a still more
remarkable degree after we pass it, a great change becomes perceptible.
If we put our trust in outward appearances, Handaye, on the Trench
side of the Bidassoa, might have been the scene of a battle last year
or last month. Almost every house in the town, with the exception of
a few recently constructed, are more or less in ruins. It seems never
to have recovered the first shock of the invasion on the 8th October
1813. All the inhabitants fled that day, leaving their dwellings to
their fate, and few ever returned to reclaim and restore them. In
like manner Fontarabia, of which the view from Handaye is very fine,
is still as it was sixty years ago--a ruinous city. The town stands
within a circle of stone walls, the church being especially perceptible
over them; but the walls still exhibit their ancient breaches, never
in all human probability to be repaired. So likewise, as you pursue
your journey, leaving the heights of San Marcial on your left hand,
and bearing down towards Irun, the spectacle which meets your gaze is
that of a country not long delivered from the miseries of war. The
narrow glen through which the river runs waves indeed with Indian
corn, as it did sixty years ago; and the slopes of the hills on the
French side, below the bridge, are covered with vines, which, as in
Lombardy, festoon themselves over tall poles, or from the boughs of
poplars. But the houses, wherever you encounter them--the chateau
equally with the cottage and farmhouse--seem to be in a state of
dilapidation. To be sure, this district bore the brunt of the Carlist
rising five-and-thirty years ago; yet the practised eye can detect here
and there relics of the great Duke's army, especially in the mounds
which mark the spots where, before advancing into France, he took the
precaution to block the gorges of passes with a succession of redoubts.

Passages is as quiet and beautiful now as it ever was. Along the south
side of the land-locked bay the railroad winds, from above which,
and indeed on every hand, cork woods look down upon a harbour little
frequented, yet capable of affording shelter to no inconsiderable navy.
Passages seems to be not only unchanged but unchangeable. It is not so
with St Sebastian. There all things are new. The fortifications have
disappeared; and where bastion and curtain once stood, long boulevards
are drawn out. The town has been rebuilt with great regularity; and
along the banks of the Urumea, where our storming-parties crossed, the
process of construction is still going on. St Sebastian, in fact, has
ceased to be one of the keys of Spain towards France. The citadel alone
remains to tell that such it once was. The town is now a fashionable
watering-place, with its promenades running seaward, and its umbrageous
walks commanding one of the finest views in the world, both inland and
over the broad Atlantic.

Such is the general aspect of a tract of country which, peaceful,
almost somnolent, as it has become, is, and must be to the end,
associated in the memory of the writer of these pages with scenes of
great enjoyment, though they be of warfare. For the aged live most
fondly upon the past, as the young do upon the future, till both alike
lose themselves in that vast present, which, for aught he knows to the
contrary, may be as near to the latter as to the former.

       *       *       *       *       *

And now a word or two respecting the volume which is again submitted
for public consideration, after passing through many editions, and
reaching to the forty-sixth year of its separate existence. Whence it
came to pass that it was written at all, from what materials it was
compiled, and how it made its way into popular favour, are points which
naturally keep their hold upon the memory of the author, and may not,
perhaps, be without some interest to his readers.

Though a mere boy, barely seventeen years of age, when I embarked
for the seat of war in the summer of 1813, I was so fortunate as to
have formed a close friendship with a man of more matured years and
experience than myself--Charles Grey, the younger of Morwick, in
Northumberland, the captain of the company to which I was attached,
and as good a soldier, in the best sense of that term, as the British
army has ever produced. To him I was indebted for many useful customs;
and, among others, for the habit of noting down, at the close of every
day, brief notices of the most memorable of the events that might have
distinguished it while passing. A small blank-paper volume--a little
memorandum-book--with a pencil attached, was his constant companion
and mine; and regularly as the night closed in we drew them from
our bosoms, and, often by the light of our bivouac fire, registered
in a couple of lines the materials of much thought in after-years.
The characters thus loosely sketched, we filled in with ink on the
first convenient opportunity; and so contrived, amid the bustle and
excitement of a campaign, each to keep his journal with a degree of
accuracy which cannot always be predicated of the diaries of men
better furnished with all the appliances of authorship.

I can hardly tell how it happened that these records of a young
soldier's life during the progress of the war, both in the Peninsula
and America, were not lost. No care whatever was taken of them by me
after my return home; indeed I gave them, unless my memory be at fault,
to my sister, and for some years never thought of inquiring whether
they were in existence. But an occasional paper or two contributed
to 'Blackwood's Magazine,' descriptive of detached adventures in the
Peninsula, having been well received, it was suggested to me--I think
by the late Mr Blackwood himself--that a personal narrative of my
military service, in a connected form, would be popular. I took up
the idea, and worked it out with all my heart; for it would be sheer
affectation to deny even now, when time has wrought its accustomed
changes on me, and a long dedication of my best energies to different
pursuits has greatly modified my tastes, that the years which were
spent amid the toils and dangers of active warfare, are those on which
I continue to look back as the happiest in my life. And if this be the
case now, it is hardly necessary to acknowledge, that the feeling was
stronger in the year 1825, when the first page of 'The Subaltern' was
written. Nor must the moralist blame me for this, without inquiring
further. They who write and speak of war as of a succession of horrors,
and nothing else, know not what they are describing. Under the
admirable discipline of the great Duke of Wellington, a British camp
was a community better regulated by far than any town or city in the
world where one-half the amount of human beings congregate. There was
little crime, no violence--I had well-nigh said, no vice anywhere. By
stragglers from the rear, offences might be committed; and the absence,
from the hospitals, of religious instruction and comfort, was sorely
felt. But the Duke of Wellington was not to blame for that; indeed, his
public despatches prove that he made many, though fruitless efforts,
to remedy the evil. On the other hand, the lives and properties of
the peaceable inhabitants were as secure, wherever his influence
extended, as if their country had been under the management of the
most efficient civil government; and if, during the progress of active
operations, houses and gardens suffered, the loss thereby sustained
was made good to the owners by bills upon the English treasury. Hence,
though it may be very shocking to witness the death, by violence, of
our fellow-creatures, and sadder still, when the fray is over, to
contemplate the wrecks which war has left behind, the day of battle,
be it remembered, is not of constant recurrence; while the intervals
that came between one and the other of these crowning operations of the
campaign were, wherever the Duke of Wellington commanded, fruitful in
enjoyment. We had the full spring-time of youth about us then. We, the
Duke's devoted followers, had neither care for the past nor anxiety in
regard to the future. Our constitutions, hardened by much exposure to
the open air, kept us above the reach of sickness, or else failed us
quite. And as I, for one, never knew what sickness was, except when
wounds--and these not very severe--induced it, my memory does not bring
back, at this moment, one hour, or half-hour, of all that were spent in
Spain and the south of France, of which I would erase the record, were
it granted me so to do, or scruple to live it over again. There are
darker griefs in civil life than warfare such as that of which I now
speak occasions. For, even in reference to the highest of all concerns,
I am not sure whether, to a well-constituted mind, the tented field be
not as apt a school of piety and true devotion as the crowded capital,
or even the quiet village.

Of the manner in which the work was begun and carried on, it is hardly
worth while to make mention. It appeared originally as a series of
papers in 'Blackwood's Magazine,' and obtained, perhaps, as large a
share of public favour as was ever bestowed upon a narrative of the
kind. For this, both I and my publisher were grateful; and the latter
having proposed to me to collect the papers and bring them out as a
separate volume, I readily acted on his suggestion. And now it was
that the measure of my pride as an author was filled up, on hearing,
from more than one quarter, that the little book had attracted the
attention, and received the approval, of the Duke of Wellington. I
was recommended also to solicit his Grace's permission to dedicate
the volume to him, and I did so. The following is the Duke's reply,
addressed, be it remembered, to one who had not at that time the honour
of being even by appearance known to him, and with whom he had never
exchanged a word. They who saw the Duke only from afar spoke of him
as cold and heartless. There is evidence, as it seems to me, in this
letter, of a temperament the very opposite of cold and heartless.

  "London, _9th Nov. 1826_.

 "DEAR SIR,--I have this day received your letter of the 7th inst.,
 and I beg to assure you that you have been correctly informed that I
 had read your work with the greatest interest, and that I admired the
 simplicity and truth with which you had related the various events
 which you had witnessed, the scenes in which you had been an actor,
 and the circumstances of the life which you had led as an officer of
 the 85th Regiment in the army in the Peninsula and south of France.

 "I should be happy of the opportunity of testifying my sense of the
 merits of your work by consenting to the dedication to me of the
 Second Edition, only that I have long been under the necessity of
 declining to give a formal consent to receive the dedication of any
 work.

 "I conceive that by such consent I give a sort of tacit guarantee
 of the contents of the work so dedicated. I know that I should be
 considered to have placed myself in that situation by some who might
 not perhaps approve of those sentiments. From what I have above
 stated, you will see that I could have no objection to stand in
 the situation described in relation to your work; and I must admit
 that it would be better to draw a distinction between good and
 meritorious works and others, and to give my sanction, so far as to
 consent to receive the compliment of their dedication gives that
 sanction, to the first and not to the last. But then there comes
 another difficulty. Before I give such sanction I must peruse the
 work proposed to be dedicated to me; and I must confess that I have
 neither time nor inclination to wade through the hundreds, I might
 almost say thousands, of volumes offered to my protection, in order to
 see whether their contents are such as that I can venture to become
 a species of guarantee for their truth, their fitness, &c. &c. I
 have therefore taken the idlest and the shortest way of getting out
 of this difficulty, by declining to give a formal consent to receive
 the dedication of any work. This mode of proceeding frequently gives
 me great pain, but in no instance has it given more than on this
 occasion, as you will perceive by the trouble which I give you to
 peruse and myself to write, these reasons for declining to give a
 formal consent to accept the compliment which you have been so kind as
 to propose to me.

 "If, however, you should think proper to dedicate your Second Edition
 to me, you are at perfect liberty to do so; and you cannot express in
 too strong terms my approbation and admiration of your interesting
 work.--I have the honour to be, dear Sir, yours most faithfully,

  Wellington."


 "I was informed when I landed at Dover in April of the change of your
 line of life and circumstances by one of your former brother officers."

I need scarcely say that of the indirect sanction thus afforded I
gladly availed myself; and it is a melancholy satisfaction to be
able to add, that the acquaintance thus begun ripened, on the Duke's
part, into kind and generous feelings towards myself--on mine, into
sentiments of reverence and attachment, which have long survived their
illustrious object, and will end only when I follow him to "the land
where all things are forgotten."

The Dedication took this shape:--


TO HIS GRACE,

ARTHUR, DUKE OF WELLINGTON.

My Lord Duke,--I trust that I shall not be deemed guilty of an act of
unpardonable presumption, if I venture to dedicate to your Grace a
little volume, of the merits of which you have been pleased to speak in
terms far more flattering than they deserve.

The Subaltern's story is a plain relation of so much of a soldier's
active career as was passed in the army under your Grace's command. The
narrator's rank and position were not such as to afford him an insight
into the plans of those campaigns in which it was his fortune to take
an humble part; neither has he made any attempt to describe events to
which he was not an eyewitness, or to offer opinions upon subjects
concerning which he neither is nor was a competent judge. But it is
a matter of high gratification to him to be aware, that his sketches
have received the sanction of your Grace's approval; and that you have
pronounced them to be correct pictures of the scenes which they seek to
represent.

It is scarcely necessary to add, that the space of time spent where
your Grace won glory for yourself, and incalculable benefits for the
whole of Europe, was the happiest in his life; and that it adds not a
little to the satisfaction arising from a glance back into the stirring
scenes which marked it, that he is enabled, thus publicly, to subscribe
himself, with sincere admiration and respect,--My Lord Duke, your
Grace's most obedient servant, and follower in a few bloody fields,

  THE SUBALTERN.


_March 1845._


"The Subaltern" has run a long course, and kept its ground in a manner
which I could not have anticipated. It was one of the first works of
the kind which appeared, and to this circumstance, perhaps, may in some
measure be attributed the general approbation with which all classes of
readers received it. But I am not the less forward, on that account, to
express my sense of the obligation under which the public laid me; for
I am largely its debtor in reference not to this volume alone but to
others.

I have used no freedoms with the present edition, further than to
correct here and there a little inaccuracy of language, and to do more
justice than my ignorance of the facts enabled me on other occasions
to do, to a gallant officer, long ago deceased, whom I numbered among
my personal friends. Sir William Herries, then Captain Herries, was
on the Adjutant-General's staff of the left column of the British
army, and attached, as such, to the family of Lieutenant-General Sir
John Hope. He was close to that noble soldier when, during the sortie
from Bayonne, the latter was wounded, and his horse shot under him;
and though repeatedly urged by the wounded man to leave him, Captain
Herries refused to do so. Indeed he dismounted, and was endeavouring
to extricate the General from the dead horse under which he lay, when a
body of French troops advanced along the lane, and fired a volley. From
the effect of that discharge Captain Herries never recovered. He, too,
was severely wounded, and carried into Bayonne, where, the next day, it
was found necessary to amputate his leg.

My friend Captain Grey, as in another publication I have stated at
length, was killed at New Orleans, during the night action that
occurred soon after the landing of the advanced-guard of the British
army. My dog long survived her active services in the field; and
continued to the last the faithful and sagacious companion that I had
ever found her. She was well advanced in years, but still able to
attend her master in his quiet walks through his quiet parish, when an
adder bit her, and she died. She was buried in the middle of the little
lawn, on which the windows of the drawing-room in the vicarage at Ash
next Sandwich look out; and an acacia-tree, planted at her head, marks
the spot where she lies.

So much for the circumstances which led to the first publication of
the following pages, and to the issues of the experiment which was
then tried; and should it seem to the reader that, in detailing them,
too much of the humour of the gossip has been indulged, he and I shall
enter into no controversy; for I am content to acknowledge the fault,
and to pray him to pardon it.

  G.R. GLEIG.

 LONDON, 1872.




THE SUBALTERN.




CHAPTER I.


It was on a fine morning in May 1813 that the 85th Regiment of Light
Infantry, in which I held a lieutenant's commission, began to muster on
the parade-ground at Hythe. The order to prepare for immediate service
in the Peninsula had reached us two days previously; and on the morning
to which I allude, we were to commence our march for that purpose.
The point of embarkation was Dover, a port only twelve miles distant
from our cantonments, where a couple of transports, with a gun-brig as
convoy, were waiting to receive us.

The short space of time which intervened between the arrival of the
route and the eventful day which saw its directions carried into
effect, was spent by myself and my brother officers in making the best
preparations which circumstances would permit for a campaign. Sundry
little pieces of furniture, by the help of which we had contrived to
render our barrack-rooms somewhat habitable, were sold for one-tenth of
their value; a selection was made from our respective wardrobes of such
articles of apparel as, being in a state of tolerable preservation,
promised to continue for some time serviceable; canteens were hastily
fitted up, and stored with tea, sugar, and other luxuries; cloaks were
purchased by those who possessed them not, and put in a state of repair
by those who did;--in a word, everything was done which men similarly
circumstanced are apt to do, not forgetting the payment of debts or
the inditing of farewell letters in due form to absent friends and
relatives. Perhaps the reader may be curious to know with what stock
of necessaries the generality of British officers were wont, in the
stirring times of the old war, to be content. I will tell him how much
I myself packed up in two small portmanteaus, so formed as to be an
equal balance to each other when slung across the back of a mule; and
as my kit was not remarkable either for its bulk or its tenuity, he
will not greatly err if he accept it as a sort of criterion by which to
judge of those of my comrades.

In one of these portmanteaus, then, I deposited a regimental jacket,
with all its appendages of wings, lace, &c.; two pairs of grey
trousers; sundry waistcoats, white, coloured, and flannel; a few
changes of flannel drawers; half-a-dozen pairs of worsted stockings,
and as many of cotton. In the other were six shirts, two or three
cravats, a dressing-case competently filled, one undress pelisse,
three pairs of boots, two pairs of shoes, with pocket-handkerchiefs,
&c. &c., in proportion. Thus, though not encumbered by any useless
quantity of apparel, I carried with me quite enough to load a mule,
and to insure myself against the danger of falling short for at least
a couple of years to come; and after providing these and all other
necessary articles, I retained five-and-twenty pounds in my pocket.
This sum, when converted into bullion, dwindled down, indeed, to £17,
18s.; for in those days we purchased dollars at the rate of 6s. apiece,
and doubloons at five pounds; but even £17, 18s. was no bad reserve for
a subaltern officer in a marching regiment, though it happened to be a
crack one.

I was a great deal too busy, both in body and mind, to devote to
sleep many of the hours of the night which preceded the day of our
intended departure. My bodily labours, indeed, which consisted chiefly
in packing my baggage, and bidding adieu to the few civilians with
whom I had formed an acquaintance, came to a close two hours before
midnight; but the body was no sooner at rest than the mind began to
bestir itself. "So," said I, "to-morrow I commence my military career
in earnest." Well, and had not this been my strong desire from the
first moment that I saw my name in the 'Gazette'? Had it not been the
most prominent petition in my daily prayers, for nearly twelve months
past, not to be kept idling away my youth in the country towns of
England, but to be sent, as speedily as possible, where I might have an
opportunity of acquiring a practical knowledge of the profession which
I had embraced? The case is even so. And without meaning to proclaim
myself a fire-eater, I will venture to say, that no individual in the
corps experienced greater satisfaction than I at the prospect before
him. But there were other thoughts which obtruded themselves upon me
that night, and they savoured a good deal of the melancholy.

I thought of home--of my father, my mother, and my sisters; I thought
of the glorious mountains and fertile plains of my native country, and
could not help asking myself the question, whether it was probable that
I should ever behold them again. The chances were that I should not;
and as my home had always been to me a scene of the purest and most
perfect happiness--as I loved my relatives tenderly, and knew that I
was tenderly beloved by them in return--it was impossible for me not
to experience a pang of extreme bitterness at the idea that, in all
human probability, I should see their faces no more.

On the other hand, curiosity, if I may call it by so feeble a term,
was on full stretch respecting the future. Now at length I was about
to learn what war really was; how hostile armies met, and battles were
decided: and the resolutions which I consequently formed as to my own
proceedings, the eagerness with which I longed for an opportunity to
distinguish myself, and the restlessness of my imagination, which
persisted in drawing the most ridiculous pictures of events which never
were and never could be realised, created altogether such a fever in my
brain as rendered abortive every attempt to sleep. I went to bed at ten
o'clock, for the purpose of securing a good night's rest, and of being
fresh and vigorous in the morning, but eleven, twelve, and one found me
wide awake; nor could I have lain in a state of unconsciousness much
above an hour when the sound of the bugle restored me to my senses.

At the first blast I sprang from my bed, and, drawing aside the curtain
of my window, looked out. The day was just beginning to break; the
parade-ground, into which I gazed, was as yet empty, only two or
three figures, those of the trumpeters, who were puffing away with
all their might, being discernible upon it; and not a sound could be
distinguished except that which their puffing produced. The moon was
shining brightly overhead; not a breath of air was astir; in short, it
was just half-past three o'clock, and the time of parade was four. I
dropped the curtain again, and addressed myself to my toilet.

Having completed this, I waited for the second summons, and then
walked forth. Were I to live a hundred years I shall never forget that
morning. Day had dawned--that is to say, the light of the moon was
overpowered by the increasing brilliancy of the twilight. A thick haze,
however, which rose from the low grounds, rendered objects even more
indistinct and obscure than they had been half an hour previously.
When I opened my door, therefore, though a confused hum of voices, a
clattering of canteens, the tread of footsteps, and occasionally the
clash of arms struck upon my ear, I could discern nothing. This did
not last long. The rising sun gradually dispelled the fog, and, in a
few moments, I beheld companies mustering in all form. Mingling in the
ranks I could likewise distinguish the dress of women; and, as the
noise of assembling gradually subsided into the stillness of order, the
half-suppressed shriek, and the half-stifled sob, became more and more
audible.

There are not many incidents in human life more striking in
themselves, or to him who has to deal with them for the first time more
harrowing, than the departure of a regiment upon foreign service. By
the customs of the army, only six women per company, who are chosen by
lot out of the most highly respected of the whole band, are allowed
to follow their husbands. The casting of lots is usually deferred
till the evening previous to the departure of the corps, probably
with the humane design of leaving to each woman, as long as it can be
left, the enjoyment of that greatest of all earthly blessings, hope.
But the consequence is, that a full sense of her forlorn condition
coming all at once upon the wretched creature who is to be abandoned,
produces, in many instances, a violence of grief, the display of which
it is impossible to witness with any degree of indifference. Many were
the agonising scenes of the kind which it was my fortune this day to
witness; but there was one so peculiarly distressing, so much more
affecting in all respects than the rest, that I am tempted to give a
detailed account of it, even at the risk of being thought a writer of
romance.

About three months previous to the day of embarkation, a batch of
recruits had joined the regiment from Scotland. Among them was a
remarkably fine young Highlander, a native, if I recollect right, of
Balquhidder, called Duncan Stewart. Duncan was, in all respects, a good
soldier; he was clean, sober, orderly, and well-behaved; but he seemed
to be of a singularly melancholy temper; never mixing in the sports and
amusements of his comrades, nor speaking except when he was obliged to
speak. It so happened that the pay-sergeant of Duncan's company was
likewise a Highlander; and Highlanders being of all classes persons the
most national, he soon began to interest himself about the fate of the
young recruit. At first Duncan shrank back even from his advances; but
it is not natural for the human heart, especially in youth, to continue
long indifferent to acts of kindness; so Duncan gradually permitted
honest M'Intyre to insinuate himself into his good graces, and they
became before long bosom friends.

When they had continued for some weeks on a footing of intimacy, Duncan
did not scruple to make his friend, the sergeant, acquainted with the
cause of his dejection. It was this:--

Duncan was the son of a Highland farmer, who, like many of his
countrymen in the same locality, cultivated barley for the purpose of
making whisky; in plain language, was a determined smuggler. Not far
from the abode of Stewart dwelt an exciseman of the name of Young,
who, being extremely active in the discharge of his duty, had, on
various occasions, made seizure of his neighbour's kegs as they were
on their march towards the low country. This was an offence which the
Highlander could not forgive; and there subsisted, in consequence,
between the smuggler and the gauger, a degree of antipathy far
surpassing anything of which it is easy for us to form a conception. It
must, however, be confessed, that the feeling of hatred was all on one
side. Stewart hated Young for presuming to interfere with his calling,
and despised him because he had the misfortune to be born in the
shire of Renfrew; whereas Young was disposed to behave civilly to his
neighbour on every occasion except when whisky-casks happened to come
in the way.

Gauger Young had an only and a very pretty daughter, with whom Duncan,
as a matter of course, fell in love. The maiden returned his love, at
which I am by no means surprised, for a handsomer or more manly-looking
youth one would not desire to see; but alas! old Stewart would not
hear of their union--commanding his son, under penalty of his heaviest
malediction, not to think of her again. The authority of parents
over their children, even after the latter have attained to manhood,
is in Scotland very great; so Duncan would not dispute his father's
will, and, finding all entreaty to alter it useless, he determined to
sacrifice inclination to duty, and to meet his pretty Mary no more.

To this resolution he adhered for several days; but, to use his own
words, "Gang where I would, and do what I liket, I aye saw her before
me. I saw her ance, to tell her what my father had said; indeed we were
baith gey sure how it would be, before I spak to him ava; and, oh! the
look she gae me, M'Intyre; I ne'er forgot it, I never can forget it. It
haunted me like a ghaist night and day."

The consequence of constantly beholding such a vision may easily be
imagined. Duncan forgot his determination and his duty, and found
himself, one evening, he scarce knew how, once more walking with Mary
by the loch-side. This occurred again and again. The meetings were the
more sweet because they were secret; and they ended as such stolen
interviews generally do among persons of their station in life--Duncan
was assured of becoming a father before he was a husband.

This, however, was not to be. Duncan was too tenderly attached to Mary
to suffer disgrace to fall upon her, even though he should incur the
threatened penalty of a father's curse; so he resolved, at all hazards,
to make her his wife. The reader is, no doubt, aware, that marriages
are much more easily contracted in Scotland than on the south side
of the Tweed. An exchange of lines, as it is called--that is to say,
a mutual agreement to live as man and wife, drawn up and signed by a
young man and young woman--constitutes as indissoluble a union in
North Britain as if the marriage ceremony had been read or uttered by
a clergyman; and to this method of uniting their destinies Duncan and
Mary had recourse. They addressed a letter, the one to the other, in
which he acknowledged her to be his wife, and she acknowledged him to
be her husband; and, having made an exchange of the documents, they
became, to all intents and purposes, a married couple.

Having thus gone in direct opposition to his father's will, Duncan was
by no means easy in his own mind. He knew the unforgiving temper of the
man with whom he had to deal; he knew likewise that his disobedience
could not long be kept a secret, and the nearer the period approached
which must compel a disclosure, the more anxious and uncomfortable he
became. At length the time arrived when he must either acknowledge his
marriage or leave Mary to infamy. It was the season of Doune Fair, and
Duncan was intrusted with the care of a flock of sheep which were to
be disposed of at that market. Having bid farewell to his wife, he set
out, still carrying his secret with him, but determined to disclose it,
by letter, as soon as he should reach Doune. His object in acting thus
was, partly to escape the first burst of his father's anger, and partly
with the hope that, having escaped it, he might be received at his
return with forgiveness; but alas! the poor fellow had no opportunity
of ascertaining the success of his scheme.

When he reached Doune, Duncan felt himself far too unhappy to attend to
business. He therefore intrusted the sale of his sheep to a neighbour,
and, sitting down in one of the public-houses, wrote that letter which
had been the subject of his meditations ever since he left Balquhidder.
Having completed this task, Duncan bravely determined to forget his
sorrows for a while; for which purpose he swallowed a dose of whisky,
and entered into conversation with the company about him, among whom
were several soldiers--fine, merry, hearty fellows--who, with their
corporal, were on the look-out for recruits. The leader of the party
was a skilful man in his vocation; he admired the fine proportions of
the youth before him, and determined to enlist him if he could. For
this purpose more whisky was ordered--funny stories were told by him
and his companions--Duncan was plied with dram after dram, till at last
he became completely inebriated, and the shilling was put into his
hand. No time was given him to recover from his surprise; for, long
ere the effects of the liquor had evaporated, Duncan was on his way to
Edinburgh. Here he was instantly embarked with a number of young men
similarly circumstanced; and he actually reached headquarters without
having had an opportunity so much as to inform his relatives of his
fate.

The sequel of Duncan's story is soon told: Having obtained permission
from the commanding officer, he wrote to Scotland for his wife, who
joyfully hastened to join him. Her father did what he could, indeed, to
prevent this step--not from any ill-will towards his daughter, to whom
he had behaved with great kindness in her distress, but because he knew
how uncomfortable was the sort of life which she must lead as the wife
of a private soldier. But Mary resisted every entreaty to remain apart
from Duncan. She had been in a state of utter misery during the many
days in which she was left in ignorance of his fate; and now that she
knew where he was to be found, nothing should hinder her from following
him. Though far advanced in pregnancy, she set out instantly for the
south of England; and, having endured with patience all inconveniences
attendant upon her want of experience as a traveller, she succeeded
in reaching Hythe just one week previously to the embarkation of the
regiment.

This ill-fated couple were hardly brought together when they were once
more doomed to part. Poor Mary's name came up among the roll of those
who should remain behind the regiment; and no language of mine can do
justice to the scene that followed. I was not present when the women
drew their tickets, but I was told by M'Intyre that when Mary unrolled
the slip of paper, and read upon it the fatal words, "To be left," she
looked as if heaven itself were incapable of adding one additional pang
to her misery. Holding it with both hands, at the full stretch of her
arms from her face, she gazed upon it for some minutes without speaking
a word, and then crushing it between her palms, fell senseless into the
arms of a woman who stood near.

That night was spent by Duncan and his wife exactly as it was to be
supposed that it would be spent. They did not so much as lie down; but
the moments sped on in spite of their watchfulness, and at last the
bugle sounded. When I came upon the ground, I saw Duncan standing in
his place. Mary was not near him; the wives of the few soldiers who
were left behind to form a depot having kindly detained her in the
barrack-room. But just before the column began to move, she rushed
forth; and the scream which she uttered, as she flew towards Duncan,
was heard throughout the whole of the ranks.--"Duncan, Duncan!" the
poor thing cried, as she clung wildly round his neck; "Oh Duncan,
Duncan Stewart, ye're no gawn to leave me again, and me sae near being
a mother! Oh Sergeant M'Intyre, dinna tak him awa!--Oh sir, ye'll let
me gang wi' him?" she added, turning to one of the officers who stood
by; "for the love of Heaven, if ye hae ony pity in ye, dinna separate
us!"

Poor Duncan stood all this while in silence, leaning his forehead upon
the muzzle of his firelock, and supporting his wretched wife upon his
arm. He shed no tears--which is more than I can say for myself, or
indeed for almost any private or officer upon the parade--his grief
was evidently beyond them. "Ye may come as far as Dover at least," he
at length said, in a sort of murmur; and the poor creature absolutely
shrieked with delight at the reprieve.

The band now struck up, and the column began to move--the men shouting,
partly to drown the cries of the women, and partly to express their own
willingness to meet the enemy. Mary walked by the side of her husband;
but she looked more like a moving corpse than a living creature. She
was evidently suffering acutely, not only in mind but in body; indeed
we had not proceeded above three miles on our journey before she
was seized with the pains of labour. It would have been the height
of barbarity to have hindered her unfortunate husband, under these
circumstances, from halting to take care of her; so, having received
his promise to join the regiment again before dark, we permitted him to
fall out of the ranks. Fortunately a cottage stood at no great distance
from the roadside, into which he and his friend M'Intyre removed her;
and while there, I have reason to believe, she was received with great
humanity, and treated with kindness; indeed the inhabitants of the
cottage must have been devoid of everything human except the form, had
they treated a young woman so situated otherwise than kindly.

A few hours' march brought the regiment, in high spirits and good
order, into Dover. Every window was thronged, every doorway filled,
in the streets through which we passed; and hearty and cordial were
the expressions of goodwill with which their occupants greeted us. We
answered these salutations with a ringing cheer, and proceeded onwards.
Happily for us, the transports which were to carry us to the seat of
war had been brought alongside the pier. There was no need, therefore,
of boats for the conveyance to their berths either of persons or
baggage; and as the men were fresh and all of them sober, the process
of embarkation went on with perfect regularity and promptitude. The
consequence was that by noon, or a little later, all whom duty did
not detain on board of ship were free to dispose of themselves as
they preferred. Hence, some to lay in sea-stock, others to amuse
themselves,--the great bulk of the officers went on shore, and spent by
groups, at one or other of the hotels, the last evening which not a few
of them were ever destined to spend in England. Among others, I went
ashore as soon as I had attended to the comforts of my division; but
my mind was too full of the image of Mary to permit my entering with
gusto into the various amusements of my friends. I preferred walking
back in the direction of Hythe, with the hope of meeting M'Intyre, and
ascertaining how the poor creature did. I walked, however, for some
time, before any traveller made his appearance. At length, when the
interest which I had felt in the fate of the young couple was beginning
in some degree to moderate, and I was meditating a return to the inn,
I saw two soldiers moving towards me. As they approached, I readily
discovered that they were Duncan and his friend; so I waited for them.
"Duncan Stewart," said I, "how is your wife?" The poor fellow did not
answer, but, touching his cap, passed on. "How is his wife, M'Intyre?"
said I to the sergeant, who stood still. The honest Scotchman burst
into tears; and, as soon as he could command himself, he laconically
answered, "She is at rest, sir." From this I guessed that she was dead;
and, on more minute inquiry, I learned that it was even so; she died
a few minutes after they removed her into the cottage, without having
brought the child into the world. An attempt was made to save the
infant, by performing the Cæsarean operation, but without effect; it
hardly breathed at all.

Though the officer who commanded the depot was sent for, and
volunteered to take the responsibility upon himself if Duncan wished
to remain behind for the purpose of burying his wife, the poor fellow
would not avail himself of the offer. All that he desired was an
assurance from the officer that he would see his dear Mary decently
interred; and, as soon as the promise was given, the young widower
hastened to join his regiment. He scarcely spoke after; and he was one
of the first who fell after the regiment landed in Spain.




CHAPTER II.


I have seldom witnessed a more beautiful summer's day than that on
which our ships cast loose from their moorings and put to sea. It was
past noon before the tide rose, consequently the whole town of Dover
was afoot to watch our departure. Crowds of well-dressed people stood
upon the pier, bidding us farewell with hearty cheers, and waving of
their hats and handkerchiefs--salutes which we cordially answered, by
shouting and waving ours in return. But the wind was fair, and the
tide in our favour. Objects on shore became gradually more and more
indistinct; the shouts grew fainter and fainter, and at length were
heard no more. All the sail was set which our frail masts were capable
of carrying; and, long before dark, nothing could be distinguished of
Dover or its magnificent cliffs except a faint and vapoury outline.

The favourable breeze which carried us rapidly beyond the Straits
of Dover, did not, however, last long. We had just caught sight of
the low-lying point of Dungeness, when it suddenly chopped round,
and blew a perfect hurricane in our teeth. It was, indeed, with the
utmost difficulty that we succeeded in getting so near the headland
as to obtain some shelter from the rolling sea which came up Channel;
and here we had the misery to remain, consuming our sea-stock to no
purpose, and growling over the inconstancy of the windy element for
a space of time considerably exceeding a week. I have spent many
disagreeable weeks--that is, many weeks which might have been more
profitably and more pleasantly spent; but one more utterly insipid
than this, more galling to the spirits, or more trying to the temper,
I cannot recollect. Even now, at the distance of more than half a
century, I remember it, and the very name of Dungeness is abomination
in mine ears.

At last the gale moderated, and we once more put to sea; but only
to be driven hither and thither by the most provokingly adverse
weather to which men thirsting for military glory were ever exposed.
Brighton, Worthing, Hastings, Eastbourne, all made their appearance in
succession, and all remained so long in sight that we cordially wished
them engulfed in the ocean. At the same tedious rate we moved onwards
till Plymouth harbour lay before us; into which we were necessitated to
put, for the purpose of renewing our fresh provisions and water.

In this place nearly another precious week was wasted; consequently
July was far advanced ere we could be said to have commenced our voyage
in earnest; nor was it till the 13th day of August that the bold
outline of the Spanish coast became discernible. In crossing the Bay of
Biscay we had been baffled by continual calms, and tossed about by the
swell which usually prevails there. Our sails were, for the most part,
useless, flapping indolently upon the masts; and though we did our best
to keep up a good heart, we were all, both officers and men, beginning
to wish ourselves anywhere rather than cooped up in a transport, when a
cry of "land" from the masthead attracted our attention.

We had kept our direct course so well, notwithstanding frequent calms
and adverse breezes, that the only coast we made, after losing sight
of the Scilly Isles, was that of Biscay. The province of Biscay is in
general rugged and mountainous, the Pyrenees extending in some places
to the water's edge; and hence the voyager who beholds that coast
for the first time is apt to imagine himself near the conclusion of
his voyage long before the situation of the vessel authorises him so
to do. Such was precisely the case with us on the present occasion.
Turning our eyes in the direction to which the look-out seaman pointed,
and beholding a line of coast so bold that almost all its features
were clearly distinguishable, we fondly flattered ourselves that this
evening, or the next morning at latest, would see us on shore. But hour
after hour passed by without bringing us in any sensible degree nearer
to the object of our gaze; and though the wind, which had hitherto
blown against us, was now in our favour, daylight departed, leaving us
almost as much at a loss as ever, to say whether we had gained upon the
land or otherwise.

Next morning, when I ascended the deck, I was delighted to perceive
that we were not more than three or four miles from shore, and that
we were moving steadily along at the rate of five miles and a half in
the hour. By-and-by a merchant vessel hailed and informed us of the
battles of the Pyrenees and their results, and of the investiture of
St Sebastian; and as the day wore on we had the farther gratification
of seeing the gun-brig, under whose convoy we sailed, make prize of a
tight-built American privateer schooner. But nothing as yet could be
discovered of the harbour of Passages, towards which we were bound; and
this day, accordingly, passed as others had done, under the galling
pressure of hope deferred.

On the 17th of August, the first decisive indication of our approach to
the seat of war was given in the sound of a cannonade, heard at first
indistinctly, but becoming every hour more and more audible. This, we
had little doubt, proceeded from the town of St Sebastian, and from
the batteries of its besiegers; but it was in vain that we turned our
glasses in the direction of the sound, with the hope of ascertaining
whether or no the supposition was correct. Though we strained our eyes
with the utmost anxiety as long as daylight lasted, nothing could be
descried which repaid the exertion; and we were once more compelled to
contemplate with resignation the prospect of spending another night
in the extreme confinement of a cabin. The dawn of the following day,
however, excited new and livelier emotions, when we found ourselves
within a few hours' sail of the landing-place, and in a situation
perhaps as interesting as can well be imagined to a soldier about for
the first time to confront war.

On ascending the deck at six o'clock in the morning of the 18th, I
perceived that we were lying under the influence of a dead calm,
within range of the guns of the Castle of St Sebastian, and at the
distance of perhaps a mile and a half from shore. This fortress is
built upon the summit of a perpendicular rock, of some two or three
hundred feet high, the base of which is washed on three sides by the
sea; and when viewed, as we then saw it, from the water, presents a
very formidable appearance. Its works, owing to their great height,
are placed completely beyond the reach of molestation from a hostile
squadron; while powerful batteries, rising tier above tier, wherever a
platform in the rock has permitted one to be established, threaten with
destruction any vessel which may rashly venture within reach of their
fire.

On the right of the castle is a small bay, which forms an extremely
commodious harbour, and which is sheltered from the weather by a
little island or mole, so placed as that only one ship at a time can
pass between it and the fort. On the left of the town the river Urumea
passes close under the walls, and joins the sea; and at the distance
of perhaps a mile and a half, or two miles, several high hills enclose
the place on every side, between which and the ramparts the country is
flat, and the soil sandy and unfruitful.

The reader has not, I daresay, forgotten that, after the battle of
Vittoria, Sir Thomas Graham, at the head of the fifth division of the
British army, achieved a succession of petty victories over detached
bodies of the enemy, and finally sat down before St Sebastian. On the
17th of July, the convent of St Bartholome, which is built upon one of
the heights just alluded to, and which the French had fortified with
great diligence and care, was taken; and, on the same night, ground
for the trenches was broken. As the troops worked for their lives,
blue-lights being thrown out from the city, and a smart fire kept
up upon them, they succeeded in establishing for themselves pretty
safe cover before morning; and the sandy soil of the place being
favourable to such operations, the first parallel was drawn within
a moderate space of time. The trenches, indeed, were completed, and
breaching-batteries erected, by the 21st, on the morning of which day
upwards of forty pieces of ordnance opened their fire upon the place;
and so incessant and so effectual was their practice, that on the
evening of the 24th a breach was effected.

The breach appearing to be practicable, and Sir Thomas being aware that
the advance of the army was delayed only till this important place
should fall, he determined to lose no time in bringing matters to the
issue of a storm; and orders were accordingly given that the troops
should form in the trenches after dark, and be ready to commence the
assault as soon as the state of the tide would permit the river to be
forded. This occurred about two o'clock in the morning of the 25th,
when the storming-party advanced with great gallantry to the attack.
But whether it was that the breach was not sufficiently assailable,
or that some panic seized the leading divisions, the attack failed.
A sudden cry of "Retreat, retreat!" arose just as the first company
had gained the summit of the rampart. It spread with extraordinary
rapidity through the column; and some houses which were close to the
town wall taking fire, all became confusion and dismay. Those who were
already on the breach turned round and rushed against their comrades
behind them; of these many missed their footing, and fell; and the
enemy keeping up a tremendous fire of grape, musketry, and grenades all
the while, the whole column lost its order and tractability. A retreat,
or rather a flight, began in real earnest; and happy was he who first
made his way once more across the Urumea, and found himself sheltered
from destruction in the trenches. The loss in this affair amounted,
on our part, to several hundred men, of whom many, who had been only
wounded, and had fallen within high-water mark, were carried off by the
returning tide, and drowned.

From the period of this failure till some days after our arrival in
the country, no farther attempts were made upon St Sebastian; and the
besieged were consequently enabled to repair, in a great degree, the
devastation which had been committed upon their fortifications. The
causes of this inactivity on the part of the besiegers were, first,
the want of ammunition, of which a supply had been long expected from
England, but which adverse winds had detained; and, secondly, sundry
demonstrations, on the part of the French army, as if with a view to
resume offensive operations, and raise the siege. Whilst these were in
progress, it was deemed unwise to land any fresh stores; indeed, most
of those already in position were removed; and hence, when we passed
under the walls of the fort, the tri-coloured flag floated proudly from
the battlements.

On the high grounds which begirt the town, the white tents of the
besiegers were, however, discernible, and to the left the Portuguese
standard waved in the wind. But all was quietness there. The trenches
seemed to be empty, except of their ordinary guards; the batteries
were unprovided with artillery, and some even in ruins; the only
token of hostility, indeed, which was exhibited on either side, came
from the town, from which an occasional shot was fired, as the allied
pickets or sentinels relieved one another, or a group of officers, more
curious than wise, exposed themselves unnecessarily to observation.
Nevertheless, the whole presented a spectacle in the highest degree
interesting and grand, especially to eyes as yet unaccustomed to war
and its "sublimities."

I was gazing with much earnestness upon the scene before me, when a
shot from the castle drew my attention to ourselves, and I found that
the enemy were determined not to lose the opportunity which the calm
afforded, of doing as much damage as possible to the ships which lay
nearest to them. The ball passed over our deck, and fell harmless into
the water. The next, however, struck only a few feet from our bow; and
the third would have been perhaps still better directed, had not a
light breeze fortunately sprung up, and carried us on our course. It
soon wafted us beyond the range of cannon; and the enemy perceiving
that his balls fell short, ceased to waste them.

By this time we had approached within a short distance of Passages;
and, at eight o'clock, that wished-for harbour came in view. Perhaps
there are few ports in the world more striking, in every respect, than
Passages. As you draw near to it, you run along a bold rocky shore, in
which no opening can be discerned; nor is it till he has reached the
very mouth of the creek that a stranger is inclined to suspect that
a harbour is there. The creek itself cannot be more than fifty yards
wide: it runs directly up between overhanging cliffs, and presents
altogether the appearance rather of an artificial cut than of an
aperture of nature's formation. From the bare faces of these cliffs
various kinds of dwarf trees and shrubs grow out in rich luxuriance,
and their summits are crowned with groves of lime and cork trees.

Passing through the creek, we arrived in a spacious basin or harbour,
on the left of which is built a little straggling town. Here the scene
became highly picturesque and beautiful. The houses, though none of
the whitest or most clean in external appearance, were striking from
the peculiarity of their structure; with balconies projecting from the
upper stories, and wooden staircases leading to them from without. The
absence of glass, too, from most of the windows, which were furnished
only with wooden lattices, powerfully impressed upon my mind that I was
no longer in happy England. Nor did the general dress and appearance
of both men and women fail to interest one who beheld them for the
first time. The men, with their broad hats, swarthy visages, mustachoed
lips; red, blue, or yellow sleeved waistcoats; their brown breeches,
stockings, and shoes with coloured ties; their scarlet sashes fastened
round the waist, and brown jacket slung over one shoulder, formed a
remarkable contrast to the smock-frocked peasantry whom I had left
behind. With the dress of the women I was not so much struck, because
I had seen garments not dissimilar in Scotland. They wear, for the
most part, brown or scarlet petticoats, with a handkerchief tied round
the neck and bosom, so as to form a sort of stomacher. Their waists
are long, and the head and feet bare; their hair being permitted to
hang over their backs in ringlets, if it be not gathered up into a
knot. But the expressive countenances of these creatures--their fine
dark laughing eyes, their white teeth, and brunette complexion--are
extremely pleasing.

To complete the picture, the background behind Passages is on all
hands beautifully romantic. Hills rise one above another to a very
considerable height, all of them covered with rich herbage and ample
foliage; while far away in the distance are seen the tops of those
stupendous mountains which form a barrier, and no imaginary one,
between France and Spain.

Though we entered the harbour as early as nine o'clock in the morning,
and were ready for disembarkation in ten minutes afterwards, that
event, so ardently desired and so long deferred, did not occur till a
late hour in the evening. Soldiers are, as every person knows, mere
machines; they cannot think for themselves, or act for themselves on
any point of duty; and as no orders had been left here respecting us,
no movement could be made till intelligence of our arrival had been
sent to the General commanding the nearest division. This having been
done at last, we were directed to come on shore; and all the boats in
the harbour, as well those belonging to the vessels lying there, as to
the native fishermen, were put in requisition to transport us. In spite
of every exertion, however, darkness had set in ere the last division
reached the land; and hence we were unable to do more than march to a
little wooded eminence about a couple of miles from the town, where we
bivouacked.

This was the first night of my life which I had ever spent in so
warlike a fashion; and I perfectly recollect, to this hour, the
impression which it made upon me. It was one of the most exquisite
delight. The season chanced to be uncommonly mild; not a breath of air
was stirring; everything around me smelt sweet and refreshing, after a
long imprisonment on board of ship; above all, I felt that soldiering
was no longer an amusement. Not that there was any peril attending
our situation, for we were at least ten miles from the garrison of St
Sebastian, and perhaps twenty from the army of Marshal Soult; but the
circumstance of being called upon to sleep under the canopy of heaven,
the wrapping myself up in my cloak, with my sabre hanging on the branch
of a tree over my head, and my dog couching down at my heels, these
things alone were sufficient to assure me that my military career had
begun in earnest.

When I looked round me again, I saw arms piled up, and glittering
in the light of twenty fires, which were speedily kindled, and cast
a bright glare through the overhanging foliage. I saw men enveloped
in their greatcoats, stretched or sitting round these fires in wild
groups; I heard their merry chat, their hearty and careless laugh,
with now and then a song or a catch chanted by one or two: all these
things, I recollect, were delightfully exciting. I leant my head
against a tree, and putting my pipe in my mouth, I puffed away in a
state of feeling which any monarch might envy, and which, in truth, I
have never experienced since.

When regiments are employed upon active service, everything like a
general mess is laid aside. The officers divide themselves into small
coteries of two, three, or four, according as they happen to form
mutual friendships, or find the arrangement attended with convenience.
I was fortunate enough to have contracted an intimacy with one of
my comrades, whose memory I have never ceased to cherish with the
fondest affection, and whose good qualities deserve that his memory
should be cherished with affection as long as the power of thinking
and reflecting remains by me. He is now at peace, and lies, beside two
others of his companions in arms, at the bottom of a garden. But let
that pass for the present. My friend was an old campaigner. He had
served during the greater part of the Peninsular war, and was therefore
perfectly acquainted with the course which soldiers ought to pursue, if
they desire to keep their health, and to do their duty effectually. At
his suggestion I had brought with me a fowling-piece; he, too, brought
his; between us we mustered a couple of greyhounds, a pointer, and a
spaniel; and were indifferently furnished with fishing-rods and tackle.
By the help of these we calculated on being able, at times, to add
something to the fare allowed us in the way of rations; and the event
proved that our calculations had not been formed upon mistaken grounds.

With him I spent the greater part of this night--chatting, sometimes of
days gone by, and sometimes of the probabilities of the future. Though
several years older than myself, Grey had lost none of the enthusiasm
of the boy, and he was a perfect enthusiast in his profession. He
described to me other scenes in which he had taken part, other bivouacs
in which he had shared; and effectually hindered me from losing any
portion of that military excitement with which I first sat down. But at
length our eyelids began to grow heavy, in spite of all the whispers
of romance, and every one around us was fast asleep. We accordingly
trimmed our fire to keep it burning till after daybreak, and having
drunk our allowance of grog to the health of our friends and relatives
at home, we wrapped our cloaks about us and lay down. In ten minutes I
was in the land of forgetfulness.




CHAPTER III.


Day had fully dawned when the general stir of the troops around me
put an end to my repose. I opened my eyes, and remained for half a
minute in a state of entire bewilderment, so new and so splendid was
the prospect which met them. We had bivouacked upon a well-wooded
eminence--standing, as it were, in the very centre of an amphitheatre
of mountains. Behind us lay the beautiful little bay of Passages,
tranquil and almost motionless, under the influence of a calm morning,
though rendered more than usually gay by the ships and boats which
covered its surface. In front, and to the right and left, rose, at
some little distance off, hill above hill, not rugged and barren, like
those among which we afterwards took up our abode, but shaggy with the
richest and most luxuriant groves of plane, birch, and mountain-ash.
Immediately beneath was a small glen, covered partly with the stubble
of last year's barley, and still loaded with an abundant crop of
unreaped Indian corn; whilst a little to the rear from the spot where
I had slept, stood a neat farmhouse, having its walls hidden by the
spreading branches of a vine, and studded with clusters of grapes
approaching rapidly to perfection. In a word, it was a scene to which
the pencil might perhaps do justice, but which defies all the powers of
language adequately to describe.

I arose in the same enthusiastic frame of mind with which I had gone
to sleep, and assigned myself willingly to the task of erecting huts
for our own accommodation and that of the men--no tents having as yet
been issued to us. This was speedily effected. Large stakes were felled
and driven into the earth, between which, in order to form the walls,
thinner and more leafy branches were twisted, and these being covered
with twigs so closely wedged as to prove impervious to any passing
shower, formed a species of domicile not perhaps very commodious, but
extremely habitable. Such was our occupation during the greater part
of the morning; and at night the corps lay down comfortably sheltered
against dews and damps.

The following day was spent chiefly in purchasing horses and mules,
which were brought in great abundance by the country people into the
camp. For these we of course paid considerably more than their just
value; but it was necessary to procure them without delay, as we were
in hourly expectation of a move. Nearly a week elapsed, however, and
we still remained in the same situation; nor was it till the evening of
the 27th that the long-expected route arrived.

In the meanwhile I had not been idle, nor had I confined myself with
any strictness within the bounds of the camp. Much of my time was
spent in seeking for game of various kinds among the stupendous cliffs
around--a quest in which I was not always unsuccessful. On other
occasions I mounted my newly-purchased horse, and rode from point to
point, wherever the hope of obtaining a better view of the glorious
scenery of the Lower Pyrenees invited. Nor was the camp before St
Sebastian neglected; to it I paid repeated visits, and perhaps I cannot
do better, at this stage of my narrative, than give some account of the
state in which I found it.

In a former chapter I stated that St Sebastian occupies a neck of land
which juts into the sea, being washed on two sides by the waters of
the Bay of Biscay, and on the third by the river Urumea. This stream,
though inconsiderable in respect of width, cannot be forded, at least
near the town, except at low tide. It therefore adds not a little
to the general strength of the place. But the strength of the place
depends far more on the regularity and solidity of its fortifications
than on its natural situation. Across the isthmus, from the river
to the bay, is erected a chain of stupendous masonry, consisting of
several bastions and towers, connected by a well-sheltered curtain,
and covered by a ditch and glacis; while the castle, built upon a
hill, completely commands the whole, and seems to hold the town, and
everything in it, at its mercy.

The scenery round St Sebastian is in the highest degree interesting and
fine. As has been already mentioned, the ground, beginning to rise on
all sides about a mile and a half from the glacis, soon becomes broken
into hill and valley, mountain and ravine. Numerous orchards cover the
lowest of these heights, with here and there a vineyard, a chateau, and
a farmhouse intervening; whilst far away, in the background, are seen
the rugged tops of the Quatracone and other gigantic mountains which
overhang the Bidassoa, and divide Spain from France.

The tents of the besiegers were placed upon the lower range of hills,
about two miles and a half distant from the town. They were so pitched
as that they should, as far as possible, be hidden from the enemy; and
for the attainment of that end the uneven nature of the country gave
great facilities. They stood, for the most part, among the orchards
and in the valleys and ravines with which the place abounds. Leading
from them to the first parallel were cut various covered-ways--that is
to say, roads so sunk in the ground as that troops might march along
without exposing themselves to the fire of the enemy; and the parallel
itself was drawn almost upon the brow of the ridge. Here, or rather
in the ruined convent of St Bartholome, was established the principal
magazine of powder, shot, working-tools, and other necessaries for the
siege; and here, as a matter of course, the reserve or main body of the
picket-guard was stationed.

The first parallel extended some way beyond the town, on both sides,
and was connected with the second, as that again was with the third,
by other covered-ways, cut in an oblique direction towards the enemy's
works; but no sap had been attempted. The third parallel, therefore,
completed the works of the besiegers, and it was carried within a
hundred yards of the foot of the rampart. In each of these batteries
were built, as well as on the brows of all the surrounding heights.
As yet, however, they were masked by slight screens of sand and turf,
though the guns were placed once more in many of them, and the rest
were rapidly filling.

There is no species of duty in which a soldier is liable to be employed
so galling or so disagreeable as a siege. Not that it is deficient in
causes of excitement, which, on the contrary, are in hourly operation,
but it ties him so completely down to one spot, and breaks in so
repeatedly upon his hours of rest, and exposes him so constantly to
danger, and that too at times and in places where no honour is to be
gained, that we cannot greatly wonder at the feelings of bitterness
which generally prevail, among the privates at least of a besieging
army, towards the garrison which does its duty by holding out to the
last extremity. On the present occasion I found much of that tone of
mind among the various brigades which lay before St Sebastian. They
could not forgive the French garrison, which had now kept them during
six weeks at bay, and they burned with anxiety to wipe off the disgrace
of a former repulse; there was, therefore, little mention made of
_quarter_, when the approaching assault chanced to be alluded to.

The governor of St Sebastian was evidently a man of great energy of
mind, and of very considerable military talent. Everything which could
be done to retard the progress of the siege he did. The breach which
had been effected previous to the first assault was now almost entirely
filled in. Many new works were in course of erection; and, which was
not, perhaps, in strict accordance with the laws of modern warfare,
they were erected by British prisoners. We could see these poor fellows
labouring at their tasks in full regimentals; and the consequence was,
that they were permitted to labour on without a single gun being
turned against them. Nor was this all that was done to annoy the
assailants. Night after night petty sorties were made, with no other
apparent design than to disturb the repose and to harass the spirits
of the besiegers; for the attacking party seldom attempted to advance
farther than the first parallel, and was uniformly beaten back by the
pickets and reserve.

During the last ten days the besieging army had been busily employed
in bringing up ammunition, and in dragging into battery one of the
most splendid trains of heavy ordnance which had ever at that time
been placed at the disposal of an English general. On the evening of
the 26th these matters were all completed. No fewer than sixty pieces
of artillery, some of them thirty-two, and none of lighter metal
than eighteen-pounders, were mounted against the town; whilst twenty
mortars, of different calibres, prepared to scatter death among its
defenders, and bade fair to reduce the place itself to a heap of ruins.

These arrangements being completed, it was deemed prudent, previous to
the opening of the batteries, to deprive the enemy of a little redoubt
which stood upon an island in the harbour, and in some degree enfiladed
the trenches. For this service a detachment, consisting of a hundred
men, a captain, and two subalterns, was allotted, who, filing from the
camp soon after nightfall, embarked in the boats of the cruisers. Here
the soldiers were joined by a few seamen and marines, under the command
of a naval officer; and the whole having made good their landing under
cover of darkness, advanced briskly to the assault. The enemy were
taken by surprise; only a few shots were fired on either side; and in
the space of five minutes, the small fort, mounting four guns, with
an officer and thirty men, the whole of the garrison, fell without
bloodshed into the hands of the assailants.

So trifling, indeed, was the resistance offered by the French garrison,
that it disturbed not the slumbers of the troops in camp. The night of
the 26th, accordingly, passed by in quiet; but as soon as the morning
of the 27th dawned, affairs assumed a different appearance. Soon after
daybreak, a single shell was thrown from the heights on the right of
the town, as a signal for the batteries to open; and then a tremendous
cannonade began. The first salvo was one of the finest things of
the kind I ever witnessed. Without taking the trouble to remove the
slight covering of sand and turf which masked their batteries, the
artillerymen, laying their guns by such observations as small apertures
left for the purpose enabled them to effect, fired upon the given
signal, and so caused the guns to clear a way for themselves against
future discharges; nor were these tardy in occurring. So rapid,
indeed, were the gunners in their movements, and so well sustained
their fire throughout all the hours of daylight on the 27th, the 28th,
the 29th, and the 30th, that by sunset on the latter day not only was
the old breach reduced to its former dilapidated condition, but a new
and a far more promising aperture was effected.

In the mean time, the enemy had not been remiss in their endeavours
to silence the fire of the besiegers, and to dismount their guns.
They had, indeed, exercised their artillery with so much goodwill,
that most of the cannon found in the place after its capture were
unserviceable; being melted at the touch-holes, or otherwise damaged,
from too frequent use. But they fought, on the present occasion, under
every imaginable disadvantage; for not only was our artillery much more
than a match for theirs, but our advanced trenches were lined with
troops, who kept up an incessant and deadly fire of musketry upon the
embrasures. The consequence was, that the fire from the town became
every hour more and more feeble, till it dwindled away to the discharge
of a single mortar from beneath the ramparts.

I have said that by sunset on the 30th the old breach was reduced
to its former dilapidated state, and a new and a more promising one
effected. It will be necessary to describe, with greater accuracy than
I have yet done, the situation and actual state of these breaches.

The point selected by Sir Thomas Graham as most exposed, and offering
the best mark to his breaching artillery, was on that side of the town
which looks towards the river. Here there was no ditch, nor any glacis;
the waters of the Urumea flowing so close to the foot of the wall as to
render the one useless and the other impracticable. The whole of the
rampart was consequently bare to the fire of our batteries; and as it
rose to a considerable height, perhaps twenty or thirty feet above the
plain, there was every probability of its soon giving way to the shock
of the battering guns. But the consistency of that wall is hardly to be
imagined by those who never saw it. It seemed as if it were formed of
solid rock; and hence the breach, which, to the eye of one who examined
it only from without, appeared at once capacious and easy of ascent,
proved, when attacked, to be no more than a partial dilapidation of
the exterior face of the masonry. Nor was this all; the rampart gave
way, not in numerous small fragments, such as might afford a safe and
easy footing to those who were to ascend, but in huge masses, which,
rolling down like crags from the face of a precipice, served to impede
the advance of the column almost as effectually as if they had not
fallen at all. The two breaches were about a stone's-throw apart. Both
were commanded by the guns of the castle, and both were flanked by
projections in the town wall. Yet such was the path by which our troops
must proceed, if any attempt should be made to carry the place by
assault.

That this attempt would be made, and that, too, on the morrow, every
man in the camp was perfectly aware. The tide promised to answer about
noon, and noon was accordingly fixed upon as the time of attack; the
question therefore arose, who, by the morrow's sunset, would be alive
to speak of it, and who would not. While this surmise very naturally
occupied the minds of the troops in general, a few more daring spirits
were at work devising means for furthering the intended assault, and
securing its success. Conspicuous among these was Major Snodgrass, an
officer belonging to the 52d British regiment, but in command, on the
present occasion, of a battalion of Portuguese. Up to the present night
only one ford, and that at some little distance from both breaches,
had been discovered. After carefully examining the stream through a
telescope, and from a distance, Major Snodgrass had conceived the
idea that there must be another ford, so far above that already known
as to carry those who should cross by it at once to the foot of the
smaller breach; and so entirely had this persuasion taken possession
of his mind, that though the moon was in her first quarter, and gave
considerable light, he devoted the whole of the night of the 30th to
a personal trial of the river. He found, as he expected, that it was
fordable at low water immediately opposite to the smaller breach, for
he crossed it in person, the water reaching but little above his waist.
Nor was he contented with having ascertained that fact; he clambered
up the face of the breach at midnight, gained its summit, and looked
down upon the town. How he contrived to elude the vigilance of the
French sentinels, I know not; but that he did elude them, and that he
performed the gallant act which I have just recorded, is perfectly well
known to all who served at this memorable siege.

So passed the night of the 30th, an interval of deep anxiety to
many--of high excitement to all. Many a will was made, as soldiers make
their wills, ere sleep closed their eyes. About an hour before day
the troops were, as usual, under arms; and then the final orders were
given for the assault. The division was to enter the trenches about ten
o'clock, in what is called light marching order--that is, leaving their
knapsacks, blankets, &c., behind, and carrying with them only their
arms and ammunition; and the forlorn-hope was to move forward as soon
as the tide should appear sufficiently low to permit their crossing
the river. This post was assigned to certain detachments of volunteers
who had come down from the various divisions of the main army, for
the purpose of assisting in the assault of the place. These were to
be followed by the 1st, or Royal Regiment of Foot; that by the 4th;
that by the 9th; and it again by the 47th; whilst several battalions
of Portuguese were to remain behind as a reserve, and to act as
circumstances should require. Such were the orders issued at daybreak
on the 30th of August; and all who heard prepared cheerfully to obey
them.

It is a curious fact, but a fact it is, that the morning of the 31st
rose darkly and gloomily, as if the elements had been aware of the
approaching conflict, and were determined to add to its awfulness by
their disorder. A close and oppressive heat pervaded the atmosphere;
lowering and sulphureous clouds covered the face of the sky, and
hindered the sun from darting upon us one enlivening ray, from morning
till night. A sort of preternatural stillness, too, was in the air;
the birds were silent in the groves; the very dogs and horses in the
camp, and cattle on the hillside, gazed in apparent alarm about them.
Moreover, as the day passed on, and the hour of attack drew near, the
clouds gradually collected into one black mass directly over the
devoted city; and almost at the instant when our troops began to march
into the trenches, the storm burst forth. Still, it was comparatively
mild in its effects. An occasional flash of lightning, succeeded by
a burst of thunder, was all that we felt, though this was enough to
divert, in some degree, the attention of many from their own more
immediate circumstances.

The forlorn-hope took its station at the mouth of the most advanced
trench, about half-past ten o'clock. The tide, which had long turned,
was now fast ebbing; and these gallant fellows beheld its departure
with a degree of feverish anxiety, such as he only can imagine who has
stood in a similar situation. Not on any previous occasion since the
commencement of the present war had a town been assaulted by daylight;
nor, as a necessary consequence, were the assailants in a condition to
observe distinctly beforehand the preparations which were making for
their reception. There was, therefore, something not only interesting
but novel in beholding the muzzles of the enemy's cannon, from the
castle and other batteries, turned in such a direction as to flank
the breaches; while the glancing of bayonets, and the occasional rise
of caps and feathers, gave notice of the line of infantry which was
forming underneath the parapet. And that no evidence might be wanting
of the vigilance wherewith all ranks among the enemy were animated,
officers might be seen, here and there, leaning their telescopes over
the top of the rampart, or through the opening of an embrasure, and
prying with deep attention into our arrangements.

Nor were our own officers, particularly those of the engineers, idle.
With admirable coolness they exposed themselves to a dropping fire of
musketry, which the enemy at intervals kept up, whilst they examined
and re-examined the state of the breaches--a procedure which cost the
life of as brave and experienced a soldier as that distinguished corps
has produced. I allude to Sir Richard Fletcher, chief engineer to the
army, who was shot through the head only a few minutes before the
column advanced to the assault.

It would be difficult to convey to the mind of an ordinary reader
anything like a correct notion of the state of feeling which takes
possession of a man waiting for the commencement of a battle. In the
first place, time appears to move upon leaden wings; every minute seems
an hour, and every hour a day. Then there is a strange commingling of
levity and seriousness within himself--a levity which prompts him to
laugh he scarce knows why, and a seriousness which urges him from time
to time to lift up a mental prayer to the Throne of Grace. On such
occasions little or no conversation passes. The privates generally
lean upon their firelocks, the officers upon their swords; and few
words, except monosyllables, at least in answer to questions put, are
wasted. On these occasions, too, the faces of the bravest often change
colour, and the limbs of the most resolute tremble, not with fear,
but with anxiety; while watches are consulted, till the individuals
who consult them grow weary of the employment. On the whole, it is a
situation of higher excitement, and darker and deeper feeling, than any
other in human life; nor can he be said to have felt all which man is
capable of feeling who has not gone through it.

Noon had barely passed, when, the low state of the tide giving evidence
that the river might be forded, the word was given to advance. Silent
as the grave the column moved forward. In an instant the leading files
had cleared the trenches, and the others poured on in quick succession
after them. Then the work of death began. The enemy having reserved
their fire till the head of the column gained the middle of the stream,
opened with deadly effect. Grape, canister, musketry, shells, grenades,
every species of missile, in short, which modern warfare supplies,
were hurled from the ramparts, beneath which our gallant fellows
dropped like corn before the reaper; insomuch that, in the space of
two minutes, the river was choked up with the bodies of the killed and
wounded, over whom, without stopping to discriminate the one from the
other, the advancing divisions pressed on.

The opposite bank was soon gained, and the short space between the
landing-place and the foot of the breach cleared, without a single
shot having been returned by the assailants. But here a very alarming
prospect awaited them. Instead of a wide and tolerably level chasm,
the breach presented the appearance of an ill-built wall, thrown
considerably from its perpendicular, to ascend which, even though
unopposed, would be no easy task. It was, however, too late to pause;
besides, men's blood was hot, and their courage on fire; so they
pressed on, clambering up as they best could, and effectually hindering
one another from falling back, by the eagerness of the rear ranks to
follow those that were in front. Shouts and groans were now mingled
with the roar of cannon and the rattle of musketry; our front ranks,
likewise, had an opportunity of occasionally firing with effect, and
the slaughter on both sides was dreadful.

At length the head of the column forced its way to the summit of the
breach, where it was met in the most gallant style by the bayonets
of the garrison. When I say the summit of the breach, I do not mean
that our soldiers stood upon a level with their enemies, for this
was not the case. There was a high step, perhaps two or three feet
perpendicular, which the assailants must needs surmount before they
could stand face to face with the garrison, and a considerable space
of time elapsed ere that object was attained. For bayonet met bayonet
here, and sabre sabre, in close and desperate strife, the one party
being unable to advance a foot, the other making no progress in the
endeavour to force them back.

Things had continued in this state for nearly a quarter of an hour,
when Major Snodgrass, at the head of the 13th Portuguese regiment,
dashed across the river by his own ford, and made for the lesser
breach. The attack was made in the most cool and determined manner;
but here, too, obstacles almost insurmountable opposed themselves;
indeed it is highly probable that the place would scarcely have been
carried at all but for the adoption of an expedient never before tried
in modern warfare. The general commanding ordered the guns from our own
batteries to fire upon the top of the breach. Nothing could exceed the
beauty and correctness of the practice. Though the shot passed within a
couple of feet of the heads of the British soldiers who stood nearest
to the enemy, not an accident occurred; while, from the murderous
effect of the fire, the French suffered terribly.

The cannonade had been kept up but a few minutes when a sudden
explosion took place, such as drowned every other noise, and apparently
confounded, for an instant, the combatants on both sides. A shell from
one of our mortars had burst near the train which communicated with a
quantity of gunpowder placed under the breach. This mine the French had
intended to spring as soon as our troops should have made good their
footing, or established themselves on the summit; but the fortunate
accident just referred to anticipated them. It exploded while three
hundred grenadiers, the _elite_ of the garrison, stood over it, and
instead of sweeping the storming party into eternity, it only cleared a
way for their advance. It was a spectacle as appalling and grand as the
imagination can conceive, the sight of that explosion. The noise was
more awful than any which I have ever heard before or since; while a
bright flash, instantly succeeded by a smoke so dense as to obscure all
vision, produced an effect upon those who witnessed it which no powers
of language are adequate to describe. Such, indeed, was the effect
of the whole occurrence, that for perhaps half a minute after not a
shot was fired on either side. Both parties stood still to gaze upon
the havoc which had been produced, insomuch that a whisper might have
caught your ear for a distance of several yards.

The state of stupefaction into which they were at first thrown did
not, however, last long with the British troops. As the smoke and dust
of the ruins cleared away, they beheld before them a space empty of
defenders, and they instantly rushed forward to occupy it. Uttering
an appalling shout, the troops sprang over the dilapidated parapet,
and the rampart was their own. Now then began all those maddening
scenes which are witnessed only in a successful storm, of flight and
slaughter, and parties rallying only to be broken and dispersed; till,
finally, having cleared the works to the right and left, the soldiers
poured down into the town.

To reach the streets, our men were obliged to leap about fifteen
feet, or to make their way through the burning houses which adjoined
the wall. Both courses were adopted, according as different parties
were guided in their pursuit of the flying enemy; and here again the
battle was renewed. The French fought with desperate courage; they were
literally driven from house to house, and from street to street; nor
was it till a late hour in the evening that all opposition on their
part ceased. Then, however, the governor, with little more than a
thousand men, retired into the castle, whilst another detachment, of
perhaps two hundred, shut themselves up in a convent.

As soon as the fighting began to wax faint, the horrors of plunder and
rapine succeeded. Fortunately there were few females in the place;
but of the fate of the few which were there, I cannot even now think
without a shudder. The houses were everywhere ransacked, the furniture
wantonly broken, the churches profaned, the images dashed to pieces;
wine and spirit cellars were broken open; and the troops, heated
already with angry passions, became absolutely mad by intoxication. All
order and discipline were abandoned. The officers had no longer the
slightest control over their men, who, on the contrary, controlled the
officers; nor is it by any means certain that several of the latter did
not fall by the hands of the former while vainly attempting to bring
them back to a sense of subordination.

Night at last set in, though the darkness was effectually dispelled by
the glare from burning houses, which one after another took fire. The
morning of the 31st had risen upon St Sebastian as neat and regularly
built a town as any in Spain: long before midnight it was one sheet of
flame; and by noon on the following day, little remained of it except
its smoking ashes. The houses being lofty, like those in the Old Town
of Edinburgh, and the streets straight and narrow, the fire flew from
one to another with extraordinary rapidity. At first some attempts were
made to extinguish it, but these soon proved useless: and then the only
matter to be considered was how, personally, to escape its violence.
Many a migration was accordingly effected from house to house, till
at last houses enough to shelter all could no longer be found, and the
streets became the place of rest to the majority.

The spectacle which these presented was truly shocking. A strong light
falling upon them from the burning houses disclosed crowds of dead,
dying, and intoxicated men huddled indiscriminately together. Carpets,
rich tapestry, beds, curtains, wearing apparel--everything valuable
to persons in common life--were carelessly scattered about upon the
bloody pavement; whilst, from the windows above, fresh goods were
continually thrown, sometimes to the damage of those who stood or sat
below. Here you would see a drunken fellow whirling a string of watches
round his head, and then dashing them against the wall; there another,
more provident, stuffing his bosom with such smaller articles as he
most prized. Next would come a party rolling a cask of wine or spirits
before them, with loud acclamations, which in an instant was tapped,
and, in an incredibly short space of time, emptied of its contents.
Then the ceaseless hum of conversation, the occasional laugh and wild
shout of intoxication, the pitiable cries or deep moans of the wounded,
and the unintermitted roar of the flames, produced altogether such a
concert as no man who listened to it can ever forget.

Of these various noises the greater number began gradually to subside
as night passed on; and long before dawn there was a fearful silence.
Sleep had succeeded inebriety with the bulk of the army. Of the poor
wretches who groaned and shrieked three hours ago, many had expired;
and the very fire had almost wasted itself by consuming everything upon
which it could feed. Nothing, therefore, could now be heard except
an occasional faint moan, scarcely distinguishable from the heavy
breathing of the sleepers; and even that was soon heard no more.




CHAPTER IV.


That the connection of the narrative might not be interrupted, I have
detailed, in the preceding chapter, the events attendant upon the
assault and capture of St Sebastian, instead of drawing the reader's
attention to the movements of the particular corps to which I chanced
to be attached. These, however, are soon related. On the evening of
the 26th an order arrived, by which we were directed to march on the
following day, and to join that division of the army which occupied the
pass of Irun. It was promptly obeyed; and after an agreeable journey
of four hours, we took up our abode in a barren valley, surrounded on
every side by steep and rugged mountains, where we found huts already
erected for our accommodation.

We remained here in a state of quiet till the morning of the 30th,
when, at three o'clock, an aide-de-camp arrived in the camp with
directions for us instantly to retrace our steps, and to join the army
before St Sebastian. We were perfectly aware that the town was to be
stormed on the following day, and, of course, were not reluctant to
obey a command which led us to the assistance of our comrades. The
ranks were accordingly formed with goodwill, and by seven o'clock we
had reached our ground.

It was the design of Sir Thomas Graham to embark a detachment of troops
in the boats of the fleet, who should assault the castle at the moment
when the main body moved from the trenches. The corps to which I
belonged was selected for this purpose. But on reconnoitring the face
of the cliff, it was at once perceived that, to make any attempt of the
kind, would only devote to certain destruction the luckless detachment
which should be so employed. This part of the plan was accordingly
abandoned; and a few boats only being manned, for the purpose of making
a feint, and for causing, if possible, a diversion, the remainder, with
the exception of such as were chosen to accompany the storming party,
returned, by the morrow's dawn, to the front.

I have already stated that the morning of the 31st rose darkly and
gloomily, and that, just as the besiegers had begun to fill the
trenches, a storm burst forth. It continued to increase in violence and
sublimity every moment; so that, when our leading files emerged from
their cover, one of the most fearful thunderstorms to which I ever
listened had attained its height. Nor was this the only circumstance
which added to the terrors of that eventful day. Marshal Soult, aware
of the importance of St Sebastian, and full of that confidence which
a late appointment to command generally bestows, made on the 31st a
desperate effort to raise the siege. At the head of a column of fifteen
thousand infantry he crossed the Bidassoa near Irun, and attacked with
great spirit the heights of St Marcial. These were defended only by
Spanish troops, which gave way almost immediately, and were driven to
the tops of the hills; but here, seeing a brigade or two of British
troops in reserve, they rallied, and maintained their ground with
considerable resolution. By this means it so happened that, whilst one
division of the army was hotly engaged in the assault of St Sebastian,
the divisions in front were in desperate strife with the troops of
Marshal Soult; while the heavens thundered in an awful manner, and the
rain fell in torrents. In one word, it was a day never to be forgotten
by those who witnessed its occurrence--it was a day which I, at least,
shall never forget.

It is impossible to describe, with any degree of fidelity, the
appearance which St Sebastian presented when the dawn of the 1st of
September rendered objects visible. The streets, which had lately been
covered with the living as well as the dead, were now left to the
occupation of the latter; and these were so numerous, that it puzzled
the beholder to guess where so many sleeping men could have found room
to lie. The troops, however, returned not, with the return of light, to
their accustomed state of discipline. Their strength being recruited by
sleep, and their senses restored, they applied themselves with greater
diligence than ever to the business of plunder. Of the houses few now
remained, except in a state of ruin; but even the ruins were explored
with the most rapacious eagerness, not so much for jewels and other
valuables as for wine and spirits. Unfortunately, many cellars were
this day discovered, which, in the hurry and confusion of last night,
had escaped detection; and the consequence was, that in the space of a
very few hours intoxication once more prevailed throughout the army.

Of St Sebastian, and the proceedings within it, I can say no more from
personal observation, my post being now with the advance of the army;
but I may as well add, that the castle still held out, and continued
so to do, till the 8th of September. It was, however, as we afterwards
discovered, wholly unprovided with shelter against the shells which
were unintermittingly thrown into it; and hence, after suffering every
possible misery during a whole week, the governor was at last obliged
to surrender. About nine hundred men, the remains of a garrison of four
thousand, became by this measure prisoners of war, and such British
prisoners as had escaped the horrors of the siege were recaptured; but
the place itself was utterly valueless, being in a state of the most
complete dilapidation.

The whole of the 1st of September was spent under arms, and in a
state of deep anxiety, by the troops which occupied the pass of Irun,
inasmuch as various movements in the French lines appeared to indicate
a renewal of hostilities. Many bullock-cars, laden with wounded
Spaniards, passed in the meanwhile through our encampment; and the
groans and shrieks of these poor fellows, as the jolting of their
uneasy vehicles shook their wounds open afresh, by no means tended to
elevate the spirits, or add to the courage of those who heard them.
Not that there was any reluctance on our part to engage: I believe a
reluctance to fight was never felt by Britons when the enemy were in
sight; but a few of the real effects of war, contemplated in a moment
of coolness and inaction, seldom has the effect of adding fuel to the
valorous fire which is supposed at all moments to burn in the breast of
a soldier; and, in truth, this was a piteous sight.

Of all the classes of men with whom I ever had intercourse, the
Spanish surgeons are, I think, the most ignorant and the most
prejudiced. Among the many amputations which during the war they were
called upon to perform, about one-half, or more than half, proved
fatal. Their mode of dressing other wounds was, moreover, at once
clumsy and inefficient; and hence the mangled wretches who passed us
this morning were not only suffering acutely from the natural effect of
their hurts, but were put to more than ordinary torture on account of
the clumsy and rude manner in which their hurts had been looked to.

Though I have no intention of writing a history of the campaigns
of 1813 and 1814, it is necessary, for the purpose of rendering my
journal intelligible, to give, in this stage of it, some account of the
relative situations of the British and French armies.

The two kingdoms of France and Spain are divided, towards the shores
of the Bay of Biscay, by the river Bidassoa--an inconsiderable stream,
which, rising about the centre of the Peninsula, follows the winding
course of one of those many valleys with which the Pyrenees abound, and
falls into the sea near the ancient town of Fontarabia. The Bidassoa
is perfectly fordable in almost all places, at the distance of ten
miles from its mouth; whilst immediately opposite to Fontarabia itself
there is one part where, at low tide, a passage may be effected, the
water reaching only to the chest of him who crosses. About two or three
miles from Irun, which is distant something less than a league from
Fontarabia, is another ford, across which a bridge had been built, but
which, at the period of my narrative, was in ruins; consequently, there
were two separate fords leading to the pass of Irun, by both or either
of which an army might advance with safety.

On either side of this little stream, the mountains, except at the
passes of Irun, Roncesvalles, &c., rise so abruptly as to form an
almost impassable barrier between the one kingdom and the other. The
scenery of the Bidassoa is, in consequence, romantic and striking in
the extreme; for not only are the faces of the hills steep and rugged,
but they are clothed, here and there, with the most luxuriant herbage;
whilst frequent streams pouring down from the summits, form, especially
after rain, cascades that are exceedingly picturesque, and in some
instances almost sublime. The river itself is clear, and rapid in its
course--winding, as mountain streams generally do, where hills come in
to impede their progress; and that it is not deficient in excellent
trout, I am still a living witness, having, with my friend Captain
Grey, more than once fished it.

At the period of which I am now speaking, the armies of Lord Wellington
and Marshal Soult occupied the opposite banks of this little stream.
Our pickets were stationed on the rise of the Spanish hills; those of
the French on the faces of their own mountains; whilst the advanced
sentinels were divided only by the river, which measured, in many
places, not more than thirty yards across. But the French, whatever
their faults may be, are a noble enemy. The most perfect understanding
prevailed between them and us, by which not only the sentries
continued free from danger, but the pickets themselves were safe from
wanton surprisal; no attack upon an outpost being under any other
circumstances thought of, unless it was meant to be followed up by a
general engagement.

For myself, my situation was, as I have already stated, in a bleak
valley, distant nearly three miles from the river, and surrounded on
every side by bold and barren precipices. In such a place there was
little either to interest or amuse; for of the French army we could see
nothing; and of game, in quest of which I regularly proceeded, there
was a woeful scarcity. There, however, we remained till the morning
of the 5th, without any event occurring worthy of notice, unless a
fortunate purchase of two excellent milch-goats, which I effected from
a Spanish peasant, be deemed such. But on that day our position was
changed; and the glorious scenery to which the march introduced us far
more than compensated for the fatigues occasioned by it.

It is by no means the least pleasing circumstance in the life of a
soldier upon active service that he never knows, when he awakes in
the morning, where he is to sleep at night. Once set in motion, and,
like any other machine, he moves till the power which regulates his
movements shall call a halt; and wherever that halt may occur, there,
for the present, is his home. Such a man has not upon his mind the
shadow of a care; for the worst bed which he can meet with is the turf;
and he seldom enjoys a better than his cloak or blanket. Give him but
a tent--and with tents the commander of the forces had lately supplied
us--and he is in luxury; at least as long as the summer lasts, or the
weather continues moderate; nor had we as yet experienced any blasts
against which our tents furnished not a sufficient shelter.

The sun was just rising on the morning of the 5th of September when
our tents were struck, the line of march formed, and ourselves _en
route_ towards the base of one of the highest hills which hemmed us
in on every side. Along the face of this mountain was cut a narrow
winding path, for the accommodation, in all probability, of goatherds
or muleteers, who contrive to transport articles of luxury and clothing
into the wildest districts where human inhabitants are to be found. It
was, however, so rough and so precipitous, as effectually to hinder
our men from preserving anything like order in their ranks; and thus
caused a battalion of little more than six hundred bayonets to cover
an extent of ground measuring, from front to rear, not less than three
quarters of a mile. Of course the fatigue of climbing, loaded as we
were with arms, ammunition, and necessaries, was great; and as the
heat of the day increased it became almost intolerable. But we toiled
on in good spirits, hoping that each vale or level at which we arrived
would prove the place of our rest, and not a little delighted with the
romantic scenery to which every turning in the road introduced us.

We had continued this arduous journey during five hours, when, on
reaching the summit of an isolated green hill, at the back of the ridge
already described, four mounted officers crossed us, one of them riding
a little ahead of the rest, who, on the contrary, kept together. He
who rode in front was a thin, well-made man, apparently of the middle
stature, and not yet past the prime of life. His dress was a plain grey
frock, buttoned close to the chin; a cocked-hat, covered with oilskin;
grey pantaloons, with boots, buckled at the side; and a steel-mounted
light sabre. Though I knew not who he was, there was a brightness in
his eye which bespoke him something more than an aide-de-camp or a
general of brigade; nor was I long left in doubt. There were in the
ranks many veterans who had served in the Peninsula during some of the
earlier campaigns; these instantly recognised their old leader, and the
cry of "Duro, Duro!" the familiar title given by the soldiers to the
Duke of Wellington, was raised. This was followed by reiterated shouts,
to which he replied by taking off his hat and bowing; when, after
commending the appearance of the corps, and chatting for a moment with
the commanding officer, he advised that a halt should take place where
we were, and rode on.

As I had never seen the great Captain of the day before, it will be
readily imagined that I looked at him on the present occasion with a
degree of admiration and respect such as a soldier of seventeen years
of age, devoted to his profession, is likely to feel for the man whom
he regards as its brightest ornament. There was in his general aspect
nothing indicative of a life spent in hardships and fatigues; nor any
expression of care or anxiety in his countenance. On the contrary, his
cheek, though bronzed with frequent exposure to the sun, had on it
the ruddy hue of health, while a smile of satisfaction played about
his mouth, and told, more plainly than words could have spoken, how
perfectly he felt himself at his ease. Of course I felt, as I gazed
upon him, that an army under his command could not be beaten; and I
had frequent opportunities afterwards of perceiving how far such a
feeling goes towards preventing a defeat. Let troops only place perfect
confidence in him who leads them, and the sight of him, at the most
trying moment, is worth a fresh brigade.

In compliance with the recommendation of Lord Wellington, the corps
halted on the beautiful green hill to which it had attained; but two
full hours elapsed ere the baggage came up. In the mean time, by far
the greater number among us, myself included, threw ourselves down upon
the grass, and fell fast asleep; from which we were not roused till the
arrival of the tents summoned us to the not less agreeable occupation
of boiling our kettles and preparing breakfast. This was quickly
commenced; and having satisfied the cravings of hunger, we dispelled
every source of annoyance to which we were subject.




CHAPTER V.


I have seldom looked upon scenery more romantic than that which
surrounded the spot where we were now halted. For the last four or five
hours we had been gradually ascending the mountains, and at length
found ourselves on the top of a green hill, which, when contrasted
with the bold heights that begirt it, might be deemed a valley, though
itself many thousand feet above the level of the sea. One side of this
grassy platform appeared perfectly perpendicular. In this direction
it was separated from a steep ridge by a narrow ravine, so deep and
so rugged that all attempts to trace its base were fruitless. On
another side it connected itself with the Quatracone; on a third,
that by which we had advanced, it sloped gradually downwards till the
view became lost in hanging forests; whilst behind us, only a little
green declivity divided it from other similar hills, which afforded a
comparatively smooth passage to the Foundry of St Antonio.

It was here that, during the succession of battles which Soult had
hazarded about a month before, one division of the French army made
several daring efforts to break the Allied line; and where, in truth,
the line was for a time virtually broken. To this the appearance of all
things around bore testimony. Not only the ground of our encampment,
but the whole of the pass, was strewed with broken firelocks, pikes,
caps, and accoutrements; whilst here and there a mound of brown earth,
breaking in upon the uniformity of the green sod, marked the spot
where some ten or twelve brave fellows lay asleep. In the course of my
wanderings, too, I came upon sundry retired corners, where the remains
of dead bodies--such remains as the wolves and vultures had left--lay
still unburied; and these, by the direction in which they leaned
towards one another, led me to conclude that the contest had been
desperate, and that the British troops had been gradually borne back to
the very edge of the precipice. That some of them were driven beyond
its edge is indeed more than probable; for, at one place in particular,
I remarked a little group of French and English soldiers lying foot to
foot close beside it.

I need not inform my reader that eagles, vultures, and kites are
faithful followers of an army. They were particularly abundant
here--whether because a more than ordinary supply of food was
furnished to them, or that their nests were built among the rocks of
the Quatracone, I know not; but they wheeled and careered over our
heads so daringly as almost to challenge a pursuit. I took my gun
accordingly, on the morning after our arrival, and clambered up the
face of the mountain; but all my efforts to get within shot of these
wary creatures proved abortive. The fatigue of the excursion was,
however, more than compensated by the glorious prospect which it opened
to my gaze; and which, though it may perhaps be equalled, cannot, I
firmly believe, be surpassed in any quarter of the world.

From the top of the Quatracone the traveller looks down, not only upon
the varied scenery which all mountainous districts present, but upon
the fertile plains of Gascony, the waters of the Bay of Biscay, and the
level fields of the Asturias. The towns of Bayonne, St Jean de Luz,
Fontarabia, Irun, St Sebastian, Vittoria, and many others, lie beneath,
diminished, indeed, into mere specks, but still distinguishable;
whilst, southward, forests of pine and groves of cork-trees, rugged
precipices and dark valleys, present a striking contrast to these
abodes of man. The day on which I scaled the mountain chanced to
be particularly favourable; there was not a cloud in the sky, nor
the slightest haze in the atmosphere; and hence, though I failed in
obtaining the object in quest of which I had quitted the camp, I
returned to it in the evening more than usually delighted with the
issue of my ramble.

We remained in this delightful position only two days; and on the
morning of the 6th of September, once more struck our tents. Noon had
passed, however, before we began to move; when, taking the direction of
the Foundry, we ascended the chain of green hills before us, till we
had attained an eminence directly over the Bidassoa, and consequently
within sight of the enemy's camp. Our march was by no means an
agreeable one. We had scarcely left our ground when the rain began
to fall in torrents; and as the baggage travelled more slowly than
ourselves, we were doomed to wait a full hour upon the side of a bleak
hill before any shelter against the storm could be procured. But such
things in the life of a soldier are too common to be much esteemed.
The baggage arrived at last. Our tent was speedily pitched, our cigars
lighted, our wine mulled, our cloaks and blankets spread upon the
ground, and ourselves as snug and light-hearted as men could desire to
be.

It is an invariable custom, when armies are in the field, for such
corps as compose the advanced line to muster under arms every morning
an hour before daybreak. On the present occasion we formed the advance,
a few Spanish pickets being the only troops between us and the enemy;
and we were consequently roused from our comfortable lairs and put
under arms long before the dawn appeared. A close column was then
formed, in which our men stood still as long as the darkness lasted;
but when the eastern sky began to redden, they were permitted to pile
their arms and move about. And, in truth, the extreme chillness which
in these regions accompanies the first approach of daylight, rendered
such an indulgence extremely acceptable. We could not, however, venture
far from our arms; because, if an attack should be made at all, this
was exactly the hour at which we might look for it; but we contrived,
at least, to keep our blood in circulation by running round them.

The approach of day among the Pyrenees in the month of September is
a spectacle which it falls not to the lot of every man to witness,
and it is one which can hardly be imagined by him who has not beheld
it. For some time after the grey twilight breaks, you behold around
you only one huge sea of mist, which, gradually rising, discloses, by
fits, the peak of some rugged hill, and gives to it the appearance of a
real island in a real ocean. By-and-by the mountains become everywhere
distinguishable, looming, as a sailor would say, large through the
haze; but the valleys continue long enshrouded, the fogs which hang
upon them yielding only to the rays of the noonday sun. Along a valley
immediately beneath our present position a considerable column of
French infantry made their way during one of the late actions; and so
perfect was the cover afforded by the mist, that, though the sun had
risen some time, they penetrated, wholly unobserved, to the brow of the
hill. On the present occasion no such attempt was made; but we were
kept at our post till the fog had so far dispersed as to render objects
half-way down the gorge distinctly visible. As soon as this occurred
the column was dismissed, and we betook ourselves each to his favourite
employment.

For myself, my constant occupation, whenever circumstances would
permit, was to wander about, with a gun over my shoulder, and a dog or
two hunting before me, not only in quest of game, but for the purpose
of viewing the country to the best advantage, and making, if possible,
my own observations upon the different positions of the hostile armies.
For this purpose I seldom took a direction to the rear, generally
strolling on towards the advanced pickets, and then bending my course
to the right or left, according as the one or the other held out to me
the best prospect of obtaining an accurate survey of both encampments.
On the present occasion I turned my steps toward the heights of San
Marcial. This was the point which Soult assailed with the greatest
vigour, in his vain attempt to raise the siege of St Sebastian, at the
time when the assault of that city was proceeding. It was defended
on that day by Spaniards, and Spaniards only, whom Lord Wellington's
despatch represented as having repulsed the enemy with great gallantry.
For my own part, I could not but admire the bravery of the troops who,
however superior in numbers, ventured to attack such a position. The
heights of San Marcial rise so abruptly over the bed of the Bidassoa,
that it was only by swinging myself from bough to bough that I managed,
in many places, to descend them at all; yet a column of fifteen
thousand Frenchmen forced their way nearly to the summit, and would
have probably succeeded in carrying even that, but for the opportune
arrival of a brigade of British Guards. These latter were not, indeed,
engaged, but they acted as a reserve; and the sight of them inspired
the Spanish division with courage enough to maintain their ground, and
check the farther progress of the assailants.

From the brow of these heights I obtained a tolerably distinct view of
the French encampment, for a considerable distance, both to the right
and left. The range of hills which it occupied was in some points less
lofty, in others even more rugged and more lofty, than that on which I
now stood. Between me and it flowed the Bidassoa, through a valley,
narrow indeed--not more, perhaps than a gunshot across--but rich and
beautiful in the extreme; not only on account of the shaggy woods
which in a great measure overspread it, but because of the luxuriant
corn-fields, meadows, and farmhouses, which lay scattered along both
banks of the river. The outposts of the French army occupied their own
side of this glen, their sentinels being posted at the river's brink:
ours--that is, the Spanish pickets--were stationed about half-way down
the hill, and sent their vedettes no farther than its base. For the
white tents of the British army I looked round in vain. These were
generally pitched in woody hollows, so as to screen them entirely from
the gaze of the enemy, and to shelter their inmates as much as might be
from the storms; but the well-built huts of the French soldiers were in
many places distinguishable. Certainly a Frenchman is far more expert
in the art of hutting himself than a soldier of any other nation. The
domiciles upon which I now gazed were not like those lately occupied
by us, composed of branches of trees only, covered over with twigs and
withering leaves, and devoid of chimneys by which smoke might escape.
On the contrary, they were good, substantial cottages, with clay walls
and regularly-thatched roofs, which the builders had erected in long
straight streets; the camp of each brigade and battalion presenting
rather the appearance of a settled village than of the temporary
abiding-place of troops in active service. By the aid of my telescope I
could distinguish French soldiers, some at drill, others at play, near
their huts; nor could I but admire the perfect light-heartedness which
seemed to pervade men who had been so lately beaten.

At this period the right of the French army occupied the high ground
above the village of Handaye, and rested upon the sea; while our left,
taking in the towns of Irun and Fontarabia, rested upon the sea also.
The French left was stationed upon a mountain called La Rhune, and was
supported by a strongly-fortified post upon the hill, or rather the
rock of the Hermitage. Our right, on the other hand, was posted in the
pass of Roncesvalles, and along the mountains beyond it; but from the
spot which I now occupied, it could not be descried. Thus the valley
of the Bidassoa alone separated us from one another, though that may
appear a barrier sufficient when the extreme steepness of its banks is
considered.

Having remained here long enough to satisfy my curiosity, I turned my
steps homewards, taking the direction of the deep valley which lay
beneath our camp. It was not without considerable difficulty that I
succeeded in reaching its base; and when there, I was particularly
struck with the extreme loneliness, the more than usual stillness,
of all things about me. I looked round in vain for game. Not a living
creature seemed to tenant the glen: there was not a bird of any kind
or description among the branches; but a deathlike silence prevailed,
the very breezes being shut out, and the very leaves motionless. I sat
down by the edge of a little stream, somewhat weary, and oppressed
with thirst, yet I felt a strong disinclination to drink; the water
looked so slimy and blue, I could not fancy it. I rose again and
pursued its course, hoping to reach some linn, where it might present
a more tempting appearance. At length thirst overcame me; and, though
there was no improvement in the hue of the water, I had stooped down
and applied my lips to its surface, when, accidentally casting my
eye a little to the right, I beheld a man's arm sticking up from the
very centre of the rivulet. It was black and putrid, and the nails
had dropped from some of the fingers. Of course I started to my feet
without tasting the polluted element; nor could I resist a momentary
squeamishness at the idea of having narrowly escaped drinking this
tincture of human carcasses.

In this manner I continued to while away four or five days, strolling
about amid some of the wildest scenes which nature is capable of
producing, as often as the weather would permit; and amusing myself,
the best way I could, under cover of the canvas when the rains
descended and the winds blew. Among other discoveries effected in
the course of these rambles were two remarkable caves, having the
appearance rather of deserted mines than of natural cavities. I had
not, however, any opportunity of exploring them, for on the morning
which I had intended to devote to that purpose we once more abandoned
our camp, and moved to a new position. This was a little hill at the
foot of the mountains which we had lately occupied, distant about two
miles from Irun, and a mile from the highroad; and it proved one of
the most agreeable posts of any which had been assigned to us since
our landing. There we remained stationary till the advance of the army
into France; and as the business of one day very much resembled that
of another, I shall not weary my reader by going much into detail, but
state, in few words, only some of the more memorable of the adventures
which gave a character to the whole space of time in its progress.

In the first place, the main business of the army was to fortify its
position by throwing up redoubts here and there, wherever scope for a
redoubt could be found. Secondly, frequent visits were paid, by myself
and others, to Irun and Fontarabia--towns of which little could be
said in praise at any time, and certainly nothing then. They were
both entirely deserted, at least by the more respectable of their
inhabitants; indeed, the latter was in ruins, crowded with Spanish
soldiers, muleteers, followers of the camp, sutlers, and adventurers.
The keepers of gaming-houses had remained, it is true, and they reaped
no inconsiderable harvest from their guests; but, with the exception
of these, and of other characters not more pure than they, few of
the original tenants of houses now occupied them. Again, there was a
capital trouting stream before us in the Bidassoa, of which my friend
and myself made good use. And here I cannot but again remark upon the
excellent understanding which prevailed between the hostile armies, and
their genuine magnanimity towards one another. Many a time have I waded
half across the little river, on the opposite bank of which the enemy's
pickets were posted, the French soldiers coming down in crowds to watch
my success, and to point out particular pools or eddies where the best
sport was to be had. On such occasions the sole precaution which I took
was to dress myself in a scarlet jacket, and then I might approach
within a few yards of their sentries without risk of molestation.

It fell to my lot one morning, while the corps lay here, to go out in
command of a foraging party. We were directed to proceed along the bank
of the river, and to bring back as much green corn, or rather ripe
corn--for, though unreaped, the corn was perfectly ripe--as our horses
could carry. On this occasion I had charge of twenty unarmed men, and
about fifty horses and mules; and I must confess that I was not without
apprehension that a troop of French cavalry would push across the
stream and cut us off. Of course I made every disposition for a hasty
retreat, desiring the men to cast loose their led animals should any
rush be made at us, and to make the best of their way to the pickets;
but happily we were permitted to cut down the maize at our leisure,
and to return with it unmolested. But enough of these details--as soon
as I have related the particulars of an excursion which a party of us
made to St Sebastian, for the purpose of amusing, as we best could, the
period of inaction.

I have already stated that the citadel, after enduring the miseries of
a bombardment during a whole week, finally surrendered on the 8th of
September. It was now the 15th, when I, with two or three others--who,
like myself, were desirous of examining the condition of a place
which had held out so long and so vigorously--mounted our horses soon
after sunrise, and set forth. The road by which we travelled was both
sound and level, running through the pass of Irun, a narrow winding
gorge, overhung on both sides by rugged precipices, which in some
places are hardly fifty yards apart. This we followed for about twelve
miles, when, striking off to the left, we made our way, by a sort of
cross-road, over hill and dale, till we found ourselves among the
orchards which crown the heights immediately above the town. We had
directed our course thither, because a medical friend, who was left
in charge of such of the wounded as could not be moved, had taken up
his quarters there in a large farmhouse, which he had converted into a
temporary hospital; and to him we looked for beds and entertainment.
Nor were we disappointed; we found both, and they proved to be greatly
superior in quality to any which had fallen to our lot since we landed.

The reader will easily believe that a man who has spent some of the
best years of his life amid scenes of violence and bloodshed must
have witnessed many spectacles highly revolting to the more delicate
feelings of our nature; but a more appalling picture of war passed
by--of war in its darkest colours--those which distinguish it when
its din is over--than was presented by St Sebastian and the country
in its immediate vicinity, I certainly never beheld. While an army is
stationary in any district, you are wholly unconscious of the work of
devastation that may be going on--you see only the hurry and pomp of
hostile operations; but when the tide has rolled by, and you turn to
the spot over which it last swept, the effect upon your own mind is
such as cannot even be imagined by him who has not experienced it.
Little more than a week had elapsed since the division employed in the
siege of St Sebastian moved forward. Their trenches were not yet filled
up, nor their batteries demolished; yet the former had in some places
fallen in of their own accord, and the latter were beginning to crumble
to pieces. We passed them by, however, without much notice. It was,
indeed, impossible not to acknowledge that the perfect silence was far
more awful than the bustle and stir that lately pervaded them; whilst
the dilapidated condition of the convent, and of the few cottages which
stood near it, stripped as they were of roofs, doors, and windows, and
perforated with cannon-shot, inspired us, now that they were deserted,
with sensations somewhat gloomy. But these were trifles--a mere nothing
when compared with the feelings which a view of the town itself excited.

As we pursued the main road, and approached St Sebastian by its
ordinary entrance, we were at first surprised at the slight degree of
damage done to its fortifications by the fire of our batteries. The
walls and battlements beside the gateway appeared wholly uninjured,
the very embrasures being but slightly defaced. But the delusion
grew gradually more faint as we drew nearer, and had totally vanished
before we reached the glacis. We found the draw-bridge fallen down
across the ditch, in such a fashion that the endeavour to pass was not
without danger. The folding gates were torn from their hinges, one
lying flat on the ground, the other leaning against the wall; whilst
our own steps, as we moved along the arched passage, sounded loud and
melancholy.

Having crossed this, we found ourselves at the commencement of what
had once been the principal street in the place. No doubt it was in
its day both neat and regular; but of the houses nothing now remained
except the outward shells, which, however, appeared to be of a uniform
height and style of architecture. As far as I could judge, they stood
five stories from the ground, and were faced with a sort of freestone,
so thoroughly blackened and defiled as to be hardly cognisable. The
street itself was, moreover, choked up with heaps of ruins, among which
were strewed about fragments of household furniture and clothing, mixed
with caps, military accoutrements, round-shot, pieces of shell, and
all the other implements of strife. Neither were there wanting other
evidences of the drama which had been lately enacted here, in the
shape of dead bodies, putrefying and infecting the air with the most
horrible stench. Of living creatures, on the other hand, not one was to
be seen--not even a dog or a cat; indeed we traversed the whole city
without meeting more than six human beings. These, from their dress and
abject appearance, struck me as being some of the inhabitants who had
survived the assault. They looked wild and haggard, and moved about
here and there, poking among the ruins as if they were in search of the
bodies of their slaughtered relatives, or had hoped to find some little
remnant of their property. I remarked that two or three of them carried
bags over their arms, into which they thrust every trifling article of
copper or iron which came in their way.

From the streets--each of which resembled, in every particular, that
which we had first entered--we proceeded towards the breach, where a
dreadful spectacle awaited us. We found it covered with fragments of
dead carcasses, to bury which it was evident that no effectual attempt
had been made. I afterwards learned that the Spanish corps which had
been left to perform this duty, instead of burying, endeavoured to burn
the bodies; and hence the half-consumed limbs and trunks which were
scattered about, the effluvia arising from which was beyond conception
overpowering. We were heartily glad to quit this part of the town, and
hastened, by the nearest covered-way, to the castle.

Our visit to it soon convinced us that, in the idea which we had formed
of its vast strength, we were deceived. The walls were so wretchedly
constructed that in some places, where no shot could have struck them,
they were rent from top to bottom by the recoil of the guns which
surmounted them. About twenty heavy pieces of ordnance, with a couple
of mortars, composed the whole artillery of the place; and there was
not a single bomb-proof building in it except the governor's house. A
large bakehouse, indeed, which seemed to have been hollowed out of the
rock, had escaped damage; but the barracks were everywhere perforated
and in ruins. That the garrison must have suffered fearfully during
the week's bombardment everything in and about the place gave proof.
Many holes were dug in the earth, and covered over with planks and
large stones, into which, no doubt, the soldiers had crept for shelter;
but these were not capable of protecting them, at least in sufficient
numbers.

Among other places, we strolled into what had been the hospital. It
was a long room, containing, perhaps, twenty truckle bedsteads, all of
which were entire, and covered with straw paillasses. Of these, by far
the greater number were dyed with blood, though only one had a tenant.
We approached, and lifting a coarse sheet which covered it, we found
the body of a mere youth, evidently not more than seventeen years of
age. There was the mark of a musket-ball through his chest; but he was
so fresh, had suffered so little from the effects of decay, that we
feared he might have been left to perish of neglect. I trust we were
mistaken. We covered him up again, and quitted the place.

We had now gratified our curiosity to the full, and turned our backs
upon St Sebastian, not without a chilling sense of the horrible points
in our profession. This, however, gradually wore off as we approached
the quarters of our host, and soon gave place to the more cheering
influence of a substantial dinner, and a few cups of indifferently good
wine. We slept soundly after our day's journey; and, starting next
morning with the lark, returned to our beautiful encampment above Irun.




CHAPTER VI.


Thus passed nearly four weeks, the weather varying, as at this season
it is everywhere liable to do, from wet to dry, and from storm to calm.
The troops worked sedulously at the redoubts, till seven-and-thirty,
commanding and flanking all the most assailable points between
Fontarabia and the Foundry, were completed. For my own part, I pursued
my ordinary routine, shooting or fishing all day long, whenever leisure
was afforded, or rambling about amid scenery grand beyond all power
of language to describe. In one of these excursions I stumbled upon
another cave, similar in all respects to those which I had before been
hindered from exploring. Determined not to be disappointed this time,
I returned immediately to the camp, where, providing myself with a
dark lantern, and taking a drawn sword in my hand, I hastened back to
the spot. As I drew near, the thought that very possibly it might be
a harbour for wolves came across me, and half tempted me to stifle
my curiosity; but curiosity overpowered caution, and I entered. Like
most adventures of the kind, mine was wholly without danger. The cave
proved, as I suspected it would be, a deserted mine, extending several
hundred feet under ground, and ending in a heap of rubbish, as if the
roof had given way, and choked up farther progress. I found in it only
an old iron three-legged pot, which I brought away with me, as a trophy
of my hardihood.

It was now the 5th of October, and, in spite of repeated rumours of a
move, the army still remained quiet. Marshal Soult, however, appeared
fully to expect our advance, for he caused a number of hand-bills to
be scattered through the camp by the market people, most of whom were
in his pay, warning us that Gascony had risen _en masse_; and that, if
we dared to violate the sacred soil, every man who ventured beyond the
camp would be murdered. These hand-bills were printed in French and
Spanish; and they came in, in increased quantities, about the time that
intelligence of Buonaparte's disastrous campaign in Russia reached us.
Of course we paid to them no attention whatever; nor had they the most
remote effect in determining the plans of our leader, who probably knew
as well as the French general how affairs really stood.

I shall not soon forget the 5th, the 6th, or the 7th of October. The
first of these days I had spent among the woods, and returned to my
tent in the evening with a tolerably well-stored game-bag; but, though
fagged with my morning's exercise, I could not sleep. After tossing
about upon my blanket till near midnight, I rose, and, pulling on
my clothes, walked out. The moon was shining in cloudless majesty,
and lighted up a scene such as I never looked upon before, and shall
probably never look upon again. I had admired the situation of our
camp during the day, as it well became me to do; but when I viewed it
by moonlight--the tents moist with dew, and glittering in the silver
rays which fell upon them, with a grove of dwarf oaks partly shading
them, and the stupendous cliffs distinctly visible in the background--I
thought, and I think now, that the eye of man never beheld a scene
more exquisitely beautiful. There was just breeze enough to produce a
slight waving of the branches, which, joined to the unceasing roar of
a little waterfall at no great distance, and the occasional voice of a
sentinel, who challenged as any one approached his post, produced an
effect altogether too powerful for me to portray, at this distance of
time, even to myself. I walked about for two hours in a state of high
excitement and delight, which might be sobered, but was not broken, by
the thought that thousands who slept securely under that moon's rays,
would sleep far more soundly under another.

I returned to my couch of fern about two in the morning, and slept,
or rather dozed, till daybreak; when, having waited the usual time
under arms with the men, I set off again, with my dog and gun, to the
mountains. But I was weary with last night's watching, and a friend, in
something of my own mood of mind, overtaking me, we sat down to bask in
the sun upon a lofty rock which overlooked the camp. There we remained
till gathering clouds warned us of a storm; when, hurrying home, the
information so long expected was communicated to us--namely, that we
were to cross the river and attack the heights above it on the morrow.

I am no fire-eater, nor ever professed to be one; but I confess that
the news produced in me very pleasurable sensations. We had been
stationary in our present position so long, that all the objects
round were become familiar; and variety is everything in the life of
a soldier. Besides, there was the idea of invading France--an idea
which, a few years previously, would have been scouted as visionary:
this added much to the pleasurable excitement which the prospect of
a move created. Not that I was thoughtless of what might be my own
fate; on the contrary, I never yet went into action without making
up my mind beforehand for the worst. But you become so familiarised
with death, after you have spent a few months amid such scenes as I
had lately witnessed, that the thought loses most of its terrors, and
is considered only as a blank in the lottery of which you may have
purchased a ticket. It may come; and if so, why, there is no help for
it; but you may escape, and then there are new scenes to be witnessed,
and new adventures to be encountered.

As the attack was to be made at an early hour, the troops were ordered
to lie down as soon after dark as possible, in order that they might be
fresh and in good spirits for the work of to-morrow. In the meanwhile,
the clouds continued to collect over the whole face of the sky, and
the extreme sultriness of the atmosphere indicated an approaching
thunderstorm. The sun went down lowering and ominously; but it was
not till the first night-relief had been set--that is, about eight
or nine o'clock in the evening--that the storm burst upon us. Then,
indeed, it came, and with a degree of sublimity which accompanies such
a storm only amid such scenery. The lightning was very vivid; and the
peals of thunder, echoed back as they were by the rocks and mountains
near, sounded more like one continued rending of the elements than the
intermitted discharges of an electric cloud. Happily, little or no rain
fell, at least for a time; by which means I was enabled to sit at the
door of my tent and watch the storm; nor have I been frequently more
delighted than with its progress.

Immediately opposite to where I sat was a valley or glen, beautifully
wooded, at the bottom of which flowed a little rivulet, which came from
the waterfall already alluded to. This was completely laid open to me
at every flash, as well as the whole side of the mountain beyond; near
the summit of which a body of Spanish soldiers were posted in a lonely
cottage. It was exceedingly curious to catch sight of this hut, with
warlike figures moving about it, and arms piled beside it; of the bold
heights around, with the stream tumbling from its rocky bed, and the
thick groves and the white tents--and then to have the whole hidden
from you in a moment. I sat and feasted my eyes till the rain began
to descend; when the storm gradually abating, I stretched myself on
the ground, and, without undressing, wrapt myself in my cloak and fell
asleep.

It was, as nearly as I can now recollect, about four o'clock next
morning when I was roused from my slumber by the orderly sergeant of
the company. By this time the storm had completely passed away, and the
stars were shining in a sky perfectly cloudless. The moon had, however,
gone down; and the red glare from decaying fires, which, for want of
fuel, were fast dying out, was the only light that helped us to find
our proper places. The effect of this dull light, as it fell upon the
soldiers mustering in solemn silence, was, however, exceedingly fine.
You could not distinguish either the uniform or the faces of the men;
you saw only groups collecting together, with arms in their hands;
which there needed but a slight stretch of imagination, amid this wild
forest scenery, to mistake for banditti, instead of regular troops.
I started to my feet at the first summons; and, having buckled on my
sabre, stowed away some cold meat, biscuit, and rum in a haversack, and
placed it, with my cloak, across the back of my horse, I swallowed a
cup or two of coffee, and felt myself ready and willing for any kind of
service whatever.

In little more than a quarter of an hour the corps was under arms, each
man in his place. We had already been joined by two other battalions,
forming a brigade of about fifteen hundred men; and an hour before
sunrise, just as the first streaks of dawn were appearing in the east,
the word was given to march. Our tents were not on this occasion
struck: they were left standing, with the baggage and mules, under
the protection of a guard, for the purpose of deceiving the enemy's
pickets, in whose view they were exposed, into the belief that nothing
was going forward. And the measure was the more judicious that the
state of the tide promised not to admit of our fording the river
till past seven o'clock; long before which hour broad daylight would
have set in. The object of our early movement was, therefore, to gain
unobserved a sort of hollow, close to the left bank of the Bidassoa,
from which, as soon as the stream should be passable, we might emerge.

As we moved in profound silence, we reached our place of ambuscade
without creating the smallest alarm. There we laid ourselves down
upon the ground, for the double purpose of more effectually avoiding
a display, and of taking as much rest as possible. Whilst lying here,
we listened, with eager curiosity, to the distant tread of feet, which
marked the coming up of other divisions, and to the lumbering sound
of artillery, as it rolled along the highroad. The latter increased
upon us every moment, till at length three ponderous eighteen-pounders
reached the hollow, and began to ascend the rising ground immediately
in front of us. These were placed in battery, so as to command the
ford, across which a stone bridge, now in ruins, was thrown; and by
which we knew, from the position which we occupied, that we were
destined to proceed. From what infatuation it arose that all these
preparations excited no suspicion among the enemy, whose sentinels were
scarce half musket-shot distant, I know not; but the event proved that
they expected this morning anything rather than an attack.

Before I proceed to describe the circumstances of the battle, I must
endeavour to convey to the minds of my non-military readers something
like a clear notion of the nature of the position occupied by the right
of the French army. I have already said that its extreme flank rested
upon the sea. Its more central brigades occupied a chain of heights,
not, indeed, deserving of the name of mountains, but still sufficiently
steep to check the progress of an advancing force, and full of natural
inequalities, well adapted to cover the defenders from the fire of the
assailants. Along the face of these heights is built the straggling
village of Handaye; and immediately in front of them runs the frith
or mouth of the Bidassoa, fordable only at two points, one opposite
Fontarabia, and the other in the direction of the main road. Close
to the French bank of the river is a grove or strip of willows, with
several vineyards and other enclosures, admirably calculated for
skirmishers; while the ford beside the ruined bridge--the only one by
which artillery could pass--was completely commanded by a fortified
house, or _tête-de-pont_, filled with infantry. The main road, on the
French side of the river, winds among overhanging precipices, not,
indeed, so rugged as those in the pass of Irun, but sufficiently bold
to place troops which might occupy them in comparative security, and
to render a hundred resolute men more than a match for a thousand
who might attack them. Yet these were the most assailable points
in the whole position, all beyond the road being little else than
perpendicular cliffs, shaggy with pine and ash trees.

Such was the nature of the ground which we were commanded to carry. As
day dawned, I could distinctly see that the old town of Fontarabia was
filled with British soldiers. The fifth division, which had borne the
brunt of the late siege, and which, since the issue of their labours,
had been permitted to rest somewhat in the rear, had been moved up
on the preceding evening; and reaching Fontarabia a little before
midnight, had spent some hours in the streets. Immediately in rear of
ourselves, and in the streets of Irun, about eight thousand of the
Guards and of the German Legion were reposing. A brigade of cavalry
just showed its leading files at a turning in the main road, and a
couple of nine-pounders stood close beside them. It was altogether a
beautiful and an animating sight, not fewer than fifteen or twenty
thousand British and Portuguese troops being distinguishable at a
glance.

Away to our right, and on the tops of San Marcial, the Spanish
divisions took their stations; nor could I avoid drawing something
like an invidious comparison between them and their gallant allies.
Half clothed, and badly fed, though sufficiently armed, their
appearance certainly promised no more than their actions for the
most part verified. Not that the Spanish peasantry are deficient
in personal courage (and their soldiers were, generally speaking,
merely peasants with muskets in their hands), but their corps were so
wretchedly officered, and their commissariat so miserably supplied,
that the chief matter of surprise is, how they came to fight at all.
Even at this period of the war, when their country might be said to be
completely freed from the invader, the subsistence of the Spanish army
depended mainly on the heads of Indian corn, which the men gathered for
themselves in the fields, and cooked by roasting them over their fires.

It will readily be imagined that we watched the gradual fall of
the river with intense anxiety, turning our glasses, from time to
time, towards the French lines, throughout which all remained most
unaccountably quiet. At length a movement could be distinguished among
the troops which occupied Fontarabia. Their skirmishers began to emerge
from under cover of the houses, and to approach the river, and then in
a moment the three eighteen-pounders opened from the heights above us.
This was the signal for a general advance. Our column likewise threw
out its skirmishers, which, hastening towards the ford, were saluted
by a sharp fire of musketry from the enemy's pickets, and from the
garrison of the _tête-de-pont_. But the latter was speedily abandoned
as our people pressed through the stream, and our artillery kept up an
incessant discharge of round and grape shot upon it.

The French pickets were driven in, and our troops established on
the opposite bank, with hardly any loss on our side, though those
who crossed by Fontarabia were obliged to hold their firelocks and
cartouch-boxes above their heads, to keep them dry; and the water
beside the bridge reached considerably above the knee. The alarm had,
however, been communicated to the columns in rear, which hastily formed
upon the heights, and endeavoured, but in vain, to keep possession of
Handaye. That village was carried in gallant style by a brigade of
the fifth division; whilst the first, moving steadily along the road,
dislodged from their post the garrison of the hills which commanded
it, and crowned the heights almost without opposition. A general panic
seemed to have seized the enemy. Instead of charging us, as we moved
forward in column, they fired their pieces, and fled without pausing to
reload them; nor was anything like a determined stand attempted, till
all their works had fallen into our hands, and much of their artillery
was taken. It was one of the most perfect and yet extraordinary
surprises I ever saw!

There were not, however, wanting many brave fellows among the French
officers, who exerted themselves to rally their terrified comrades, and
to restore the battle. Among these I remarked one in particular. He
was on horseback; and, riding among a flying battalion, he used every
means, both of threat and entreaty, to stop them; and he succeeded.
The battalion paused, its example was followed by others, and in five
minutes a well-formed line occupied what looked like the last of a
range of green hills, on the other side of a valley into which we were
descending.

This sudden movement on the part of the enemy was met by a
corresponding formation on ours; we wheeled into line and advanced. Not
a word was spoken, nor a shot fired, till our troops had reached about
half-way across the little hollow, when the French, raising one of
their discordant yells--a sort of shout, in which every man halloos for
himself, without regard to the tone or time of those about him--fired
a volley. It was well directed, and did considerable execution; but it
checked not our approach for a moment. Our men replied to it with a
hearty British cheer, and, giving them back their fire, rushed on to
the charge.

In this they were met with great spirit by the enemy. I remarked the
same individual who had first stopped their flight ride along the
front of his men, and animate them to their duty; nor was it without
considerable difficulty, and after having exchanged with them several
volleys, that we succeeded in getting within charging distance. Then,
indeed, another cheer was given, and the French, without waiting for
the rush, once more broke their ranks and fled. Their leader was still
as active as before. He rode among the men, reproached, exhorted, and
even struck those near him with his sword; and it seemed as if he were
about once more to rally them, when he fell. In an instant, however, he
rose again, and mounted another horse; but he had hardly done so when a
ball took effect in his neck, and he dropped dead. The fall of that man
decided the day upon the heights of Handaye. The French troops lost all
order and discipline, and making their way to the rear, each by himself
as he best could, they left us in undisputed possession of the field.

Meanwhile, on the right of our army, and the extreme left of the enemy,
a much more determined struggle was going forward. There Soult had
added to the natural strength of his position by throwing up redoubts
and batteries upon every commanding point; and hence it was not without
suffering considerable loss that the light division succeeded in
turning it. All attempts, indeed, to carry the Hermitage failed, though
they were renewed with the most daring resolution till a late hour in
the night. But of the operations of the army in these quarters I could
see nothing, and therefore I will not attempt to describe them.

The day was far spent when our troops, wearied as much with the pursuit
as with fighting, were commanded to halt, and to lie down in brigades
and divisions along the heights which the enemy had abandoned. With us
all became in a short time perfectly quiet; but the roar of musketry
and the thunder of cannon still sounded on our right. As the darkness
set in, too, the flashes became every moment more and more conspicuous,
and produced, on account of the great unevenness of the ground, a
remarkably beautiful effect. Repeated assaults being still made upon
the Hermitage rock, the whole side of that conical hill seemed in a
blaze; whilst every valley and eminence around it sparkled from time
to time like the hills and valleys of a tropical climate when the
fire-flies are out in millions. Nor were other and stronger lights
wanting. Our troops, in the hurry of the battle, had set fire to the
huts of the French soldiers, which now burst forth, and cast a strong
glare over the entire extent of the field. On the whole, it was a
glorious scene, and tended much to keep up the degree of excitement
which had pervaded our minds during the day.

Our loss--I mean the loss of the corps to which I was attached--chanced
to be trifling. No particular companion, or intimate acquaintance, of
mine at least, had fallen, consequently there was nothing to destroy
the feeling of pure delight which the meanest individual in an army
experiences when that army has triumphed; nor do I recollect many
happier moments of my life than when I stretched myself this evening
beside a fire, near my friend Grey, to chat over the occurrences of the
day. The quartermaster coming up soon after with a supply of provisions
and rum, added indeed not a little to my satisfaction; for the stock
which I had provided in the morning was long ago disposed of among
those who had been less provident; and my meal was followed by a sleep
such as kings might envy, though the heavens were my canopy and the
green turf was my bed.




CHAPTER VII.


About an hour after sunrise, on the following morning, the tents and
baggage, which had been left on the Spanish side of the river, came
up; and we were once more enabled to shelter ourselves against the
inclemency of the weather. And it was well that their arrival was
not longer deferred, for we had hardly time to pitch the former when
a heavy storm of wind and rain began, which, lasting with little
intermission during two entire days, rendered our situation the reverse
of agreeable. The position which we occupied was, moreover, exceedingly
exposed: our camp stretched along the ridge of a bleak hill, totally
bare of wood; indeed, the only fuel within our reach consisted of
furze, the green and prickly parts of which we chopped and gave as
forage to our horses, whilst the stems and smaller branches supplied us
with very indifferent material for our fires.

The left column of the army had not long established itself in France
ere crowds of sutlers, and other camp-followers, began to pour in.
These persons, taking possession of such of the enemy's huts as had
escaped the violence of our soldiers, opened their shops in due form
along the highroad, and soon gave to the spot which they occupied the
appearance of a settled village during the season of a fair, when
booths and caravans of wild beasts crowd its little street. This
village became, before long, a favourite resort of the idle, and of
such as still retained a few dollars in their purses; and many were the
bottles of nominal brown stout which, night after night, were consumed
at the sign of the "Jolly Soldier."

I hardly recollect any period of my active life more devoid of
interesting occurrences than that which intervened between the crossing
of the Spanish border and the advance of the army towards Bayonne. We
continued on the heights of Handaye from the 8th of October till the
9th of November, during the greater part of which time the weather
was very inclement--cold showers of rain unceasingly falling, and
tremendous gusts of wind prevailing. Indeed, we began to fear at last
that nothing more would be done this season, and that we should either
fall back to the towns of Irun and Fontarabia, or spend the winter
under canvas. That we were wantonly kept here, no one imagined: on the
contrary, we were quite aware that nothing but the protracted defence
of Pampeluna hindered our advance; and joyful was the news which at
length reached us that that important city had surrendered.

Of course I did not confine myself to my tent, or within the hounds of
the camp, all this while. I shot and fished as usual; made excursions
to the rear and to the front, as the humour directed; and adopted every
ordinary expedient to kill time. On these occasions adventures were
not always wanting, though they were, for the most part, such as would
excite little interest were they repeated. But one I recollect which
deserves narration more, perhaps, than the others, and that I will
detail.

During the time that the British army occupied its position along
the Spanish bank of the Bidassoa a vast number of desertions took
place. As this was an event which had but rarely occurred before,
many opinions were hazarded as to its cause. For my own part, I
attributed it entirely to the operation of superstitious terror on
the minds of the men, and for this reason: It is the usual custom, in
planting sentinels in the immediate presence of an enemy, to station
them in pairs, so that one may patrol as far as the next post while
the other remains steady on his ground. Perhaps, too, the wish of
giving greater confidence to the men themselves may have some weight
in dictating the arrangement; at all events, there can be no doubt
of the fact, and that much increased confidence does arise from it.
Such, however, was the nature of the ground covered by our pickets
among the Pyrenees, that in many places there was hardly room for a
couple of sentinels to occupy a single post, and it was only at the
mouths of the various passes that, for insuring the repose of the
army, two were more desirable than one. Rugged as the country was,
however, almost every foot of it had been contested; and the dead,
falling among rocks and cliffs, were left in various instances, from
necessity, unburied. It was exactly in those parts where the dead lay
unburied that single sentinels were planted. That soldiers and sailors
are often superstitious everybody knows; nor can it be pleasant for the
strongest-minded among them to spend two or three hours of a stormy
night beside a mangled and half-devoured carcass. Indeed, I have been
myself more than once remonstrated with for desiring as brave a fellow
as any in the corps to keep guard near one of his fallen comrades.
"I don't care for living men," said the soldier; "but, for Godsake,
sir, don't keep me beside _him_." And wherever I could yield to the
remonstrance, I invariably did so. My own opinion, therefore, was, that
many of our sentries became so unmanned by superstitious dread, that
they could not keep their ground. They knew that if they returned to
the picket a severe punishment awaited them; and hence they went over
to the enemy rather than endure the pangs of a diseased imagination.

As a proof that my views were correct, it was remarked that the army
had no sooner descended from the mountains, and taken up a position
which required a chain of double sentinels to be renewed, than
desertion in a great degree ceased. A few instances still occurred, as
will always be the case where men of all tempers are brought together,
as in an army; but they bore no proportion whatever to those which
took place among the Pyrenees. With a view of stopping the practice
entirely, an order was issued which prohibited the men from passing
the advanced sentries, and assured all who might be caught on the
neutral ground--that is, on the ground between the enemy's outposts and
our own--that they should be arrested, brought back, and treated as
deserters.

I had ridden towards the front one morning, for the purpose of visiting
a friend in the fifth division, when I learned that three men had
been seized a few days previously half-way between the two chains of
posts, and that one of them had confessed that their intention was to
desert. A court-martial was immediately ordered; the prisoners were
condemned to be shot; and this was the day on which the sentence was
to be carried into execution. I consequently found the division, on my
arrival, getting under arms; and being informed of the circumstances, I
determined, after a short struggle with my weaker feelings, to witness
the proceeding.

It was altogether a most solemn and impressive spectacle. The soldiers
took their stations and formed their ranks without speaking a word,
and looked at one another with that peculiar expression which, without
seeming to imply any doubt on their part of the perfect propriety of
the measure, indicated sincere reluctance to become spectators of it.
The same feeling evidently pervaded the minds of the officers; indeed,
you could well-nigh perceive the sort of shudder which ran through the
frames of all who were on parade.

The place appointed for the execution was a little elevated plain a few
hundred yards in front of the camp, and near the picket from which the
culprits had deserted. Hither the different battalions directed their
steps; and the whole division being formed into three sides of a hollow
square, the men "ordered" their arms, and stood still. At the vacant
side of this square a grave was dug--the earth which had been excavated
being piled up on its opposite bank; and this, as the event proved, was
the spot to be occupied by the prisoners.

We had stood thus about five minutes, when the muffled drums of the
corps to which the culprits belonged were heard beating the dead march;
and they themselves, handcuffed and surrounded by their guards, made
their appearance. One was a fine young fellow, tall and well made;
another was a dark, thick-set, little man, about thirty years of age;
and the third had nothing remarkable in his countenance except an
expression of deep cunning and treachery. They all moved forward with
considerable firmness, and took their stations on the mound, when,
the word "Attention" being given, a staff-officer advanced into the
centre of the square and read aloud the proceedings of the court.
By these, sentence of death was passed upon all three; but the most
villanous-looking among them was recommended to mercy, on the ground
that he had added treachery to his other crimes.

As soon as the reading was finished, the prisoners were commanded to
kneel down upon the ground, and a handkerchief was tied over the eyes
of each. During the progress of this operation I looked round--not so
much from curiosity as to give a momentary relief to my own excited
feelings--upon the countenances of the soldiers. They were, one and
all of them, deadly pale; indeed, the teeth of many were set close
together, and their breathing seemed to be repressed. It was altogether
a most harrowing moment.

The eyes of the prisoners being tied up, the guard was withdrawn from
about them, and took post perhaps ten yards in their front. As soon as
this was done, the same staff-officer who had read the proceedings of
the trial, calling to the informer by name, ordered him to rise, for
that the commander of the forces had attended to the recommendation of
his judges, and spared his life. But the poor wretch paid no attention
to the order; I question, indeed, whether he heard it; for he knelt
there as if rooted to the spot, till a file of men removed him in a
state of apparent stupor. What the feelings of his companions in crime
must have been at this moment I know not; but their miseries were of
short duration; for, a signal being given, about sixteen soldiers
fired, and they were instantly numbered with the dead. The little
man, I observed, sprang into the air when he received his wounds; the
other fell flat upon his face; but neither gave the slightest sign of
vitality afterwards.

The discharge of the muskets in the faces of the culprits was followed
by a sound as if every man in the division had been stifled for the
last five minutes, and now at length drew in his breath. It was not a
groan, nor a sigh, but a sob, like that which you unconsciously utter
after dipping your head under water. And now all excitement was at
an end. The men were dead; they died by musket-shots; and these were
occurrences, viewing them in the abstract, by far too common to be much
regarded. But in order to give to the execution its full effect, the
division formed into open column of companies and marched round the
grave, on the brink of which the bodies lay; after which each corps
filed off to its tents, and, long before dark, the scene of the morning
was forgotten. Not but that it produced a good effect by checking the
prevalence of the offence of which it was the punishment; but pity soon
died away, and every feeling of disgust, if, indeed, any such had at
all arisen, was obliterated. The bodies were thrown into the hole and
covered up, and I returned to my tent to muse upon what I had seen.

I have stated that on the 3d of November intelligence of the fall of
Pampeluna reached us. From that day we began to calculate in earnest
upon a speedy renewal of operations, and to speculate upon the probable
extent of our progress ere a new halt should be ordered, or the troops
placed in quarters for the winter. But so much rain had fallen during
the preceding fortnight that the cross-roads were wholly impassable;
and, what was worse, there appeared no promise of a change in the
weather.

I had the honour to be personally acquainted with the distinguished
officer whose unlooked-for death in 1823 caused so great a sensation
of sorrow throughout Scotland--I mean the Earl of Hopetoun, at that
period Sir John Hope. Sir John had lately joined the army, relieving
Sir Thomas Graham in the guidance of the left column, and taking
rank as second in command under Lord Wellington. Whilst our division
occupied the heights of Handaye, I spent several agreeable evenings in
his company; the particulars attending one of which, as they had at the
time a more than ordinary degree of interest in them, I shall take the
liberty to repeat.

On the 7th of November I dined with the General. We sat down to
table about six o'clock, and were beginning to experience as much
satisfaction as good cheer and pleasant company can produce, when
an orderly dragoon rode into the courtyard of the house. He was
immediately admitted; and being ushered into the room where we sat, he
handed a sealed packet to our host. Sir John opened it, glanced his eye
over its contents, put it into his pocket, and motioning to the orderly
to withdraw, renewed the conversation which had been interrupted.
Though more than half suspicious that the packet contained intelligence
of importance, we--I mean the General's guests and staff--soon returned
to our former lively chat, when the clattering of another horse's
hoofs was heard, and Colonel Delaney entered. He was accompanied by an
officer of the corps of guides; and requesting permission to hold a few
minutes private conversation with Sir John Hope, they all three retired
together.

"We shall have something to do before twenty-four hours pass," said one
of the aides-de-camp; "Delaney always brings warlike communications
with him." "So much the better," was the general reply. "Let us drink
to our host, and success to to-morrow's operations." The toast was
hardly finished when Sir John returned, bringing with him only the
officer of the corps of guides--Delaney was gone; but of the purport of
the communication not a hint was dropped, and the evening passed on as
if no such communication had been made.

About nine o'clock our party broke up, and we were wishing our friends
good night, when a French officer, who had deserted, was brought in.
He was civilly, but very coolly received. He had little information to
give, except that a batch of conscripts had lately joined the army,
most of whom were either old men or boys--so thoroughly was the youth
of France by this time wasted, through a continuance of wars. We who
were guests stayed not, however, to hear him out, but, mounting our
horses, returned each to his tent.

On reaching the camp of my own corps, I found--as, indeed, I had
expected to do--that the order for an attack was issued, and that the
brigade was to be under arms by four o'clock next morning. Once more,
therefore, I made up my mind for the worst; and having instructed my
friend as to the manner in which I wished my little property to be
disposed of--having assigned my sword to one, my pelisse to another,
and my faithful dog to a third--I was, if you please, enthusiast
enough to recommend my soul to the mercy of its Creator, and then lay
down. For a while Grey and myself chatted, as men of any reflection so
situated are wont to chat. We agreed, as indeed we always did on such
occasions, each to act as executor to the other, and having cordially
shaken hands, lest an opportunity of so doing should not occur again,
we fell fast asleep.

I had slept, perhaps, an hour and a half, when I was awoke by the voice
of the orderly sergeant, who came to inform us that the movement of the
army was countermanded. I will not say whether the intelligence was
received as acceptable or the reverse; indeed, I question whether we
ourselves knew at the moment whether we were relieved by the reprieve
or the contrary. One thing, however, is certain, that we did not sleep
the less soundly from knowing that at least to-morrow was secured to
us, to be passed in a state of vigour and vitality, though perfectly
aware that the peril of a battle must be encountered before long; and
hence that it was really a matter of very little moment whether it
should take place now or a few days hence.

On mustering next morning upon the parade-ground, we learned that our
intended operations were impeded only by the very bad state of the
by-ways. Though the rain had ceased for some days past, such was the
quantity which had fallen that no artillery could, as yet, move in
any other direction than along the main road. The continuance of dry
weather for eight-and-forty hours would, however, it was calculated,
remove this obstacle to our advance; and hence every man felt that he
had but a couple of days to count upon. By good fortune, these days
continued clear and serene, and the justice of our calculations was in
due time evinced.




CHAPTER VIII.


The 8th and 9th of November passed over without any event occurring
worthy of recital. On the former of these days, indeed, we had the
satisfaction to see a French gun-brig destroyed by one of our light
cruisers, a small schooner, off the harbour of St Jean de Luz. She
had lain there, as it appeared, for some time, and, apprehensive of
falling into our hands, had ventured on that day to put to sea; but,
being observed by a brig, and the schooner above alluded to, she
was immediately followed, and after an action of nearly an hour's
continuance, she blew up. Whether her crew had abandoned her previous
to the explosion I had no means of ascertaining.

Meanwhile, among ourselves, and throughout the different divisions
contiguous to us, a silence like that of a calm before a storm
prevailed. Each man looked as if he knew that an attack was impending,
though few conjectures were hazarded touching the precise moment of
its occurrence. On the evening of the 9th, however, all doubt was at
length removed. We were assembled at parade, or rather the parade was
dismissed, but, the band continuing to play, the officers were waiting
in groups about the colonel's tent, when an aide-de-camp riding up
informed us that the army was to advance upon the morrow. The battalion
to which I belonged was appointed to carry the village of Urogne--a
place containing perhaps a hundred houses and a church; and we were
to take post for the purpose an hour before daybreak on the highroad,
close to the advanced sentinels. Of the disposition of other corps we
knew nothing.

As soon as the aide-de-camp departed, we began, as people so
circumstanced generally do, to discuss the propriety of our general's
arrangements. On the present occasion we were more than usually
convinced of the sagacity and profound skill of the noble lord. Our
corps had been selected, in preference to many others, for a service,
perilous, it is true, but therefore honourable. This showed that
he knew at least on whom he could depend; and we, of course, were
determined to prove that his confidence had not been misplaced.

Having passed an hour or two in this manner, we departed each to his
own tent, in order to make the necessary preparations for the morrow.
These were soon completed. Our baggage was packed; our horses and
mules, which, for the sake of shelter, had been kept during the last
ten days at certain houses in the rear, were called in; and provisions
enough for one day's consumption put into a haversack. With this and
our cloaks we directed a Portuguese lad, a servant of Grey, to follow
the battalion upon a little pony, which we kept chiefly for such uses;
and finally, having renewed our directions, the one to the other,
respecting the conduct of the survivor in case either of us should
fall, we lay down.

It was quite dark when I arose. Our fires had all burned out; there was
no moon in the heavens, and the stars were in a great measure obscured
by clouds; but we took our places instinctively, and in profound
silence. On these occasions I have been always struck with the great
coolness of the women. You seldom hear an expression of alarm escape
them; indeed they become, probably from habit, and from the example
of others, to the full as indifferent to danger as their husbands.
I fear, too, that the sort of life which they lead, after they have
for any length of time followed an army in the field, sadly unsexes
them (if I may be permitted to coin such a word for their benefit);
at least I recollect but one instance in which any symptoms of real
sorrow were shown even by those whom the fate of a battle had rendered
widows. Sixty women only being permitted to accompany a battalion,
they are, of course, perfectly sure of getting as many husbands as they
may choose; and hence few widows of soldiers continue in a state of
widowhood for any unreasonable length of time; so far, indeed, they are
a highly-favoured class of female society.

The column being formed, and the tents and baggage so disposed as
that, in case of a reverse, they might be carried to the rear without
confusion or delay, the word was given to move on. As our route lay
over ground extremely uneven, we moved for a while slowly and with
caution, till, having gained the highroad, we were enabled to quicken
our pace. We proceeded thus, perhaps, about a mile, when the watch-fire
of a German picket was seen. Then the order to halt being passed
quietly from rank to rank, we ordered arms, and sat down upon the green
banks by the roadside. Here we were directed to remain till there
should be light enough to make surrounding objects clear, and a gun
somewhere to the left of us should give the signal of attack.

Men are very differently affected at different times, even though the
situations in which they may be cast bear a strong affinity to one
another. On the present occasion, for example, I perfectly recollect
that hardly any feeling of seriousness pervaded my own mind, nor, if
I might judge from appearances, the minds of those around me. Much
conversation, on the contrary, passed among us in whispers, but it was
all of as light a character as if the business in which we were about
to engage were mere amusement, and not that kind of play in which
men stake their lives. Anxiety and restlessness, indeed, universally
prevailed. We looked to the east, and watched the gradual approach of
dawn; but it was with that degree of interest which sportsmen feel on
the morning of the twelfth of August--or rather, perhaps, like that
of a child in a box at Covent Garden, when it expects every moment to
see the stage curtain lifted. We were exceedingly anxious to begin the
fray, but we were quite confident of success.

In the meanwhile, such dispositions were made as the circumstances
of the case appeared to require. Three companies, consisting of
about a hundred and fifty men, were detached, under the command of a
field-officer, a little to the right and left of the road, for the
purpose of surprising, if possible, two of the enemy's pickets. The
remaining seven, forming into column as day broke, extended their front
so as to cover the whole breadth of the road, and made ready to rush
at once, in what is called "double quick," upon the village. That it
was strongly barricaded and filled with French infantry we were aware;
but, by making our first attack a rapid one, we calculated on reaching
the barricade before the enemy should have time to do us much damage by
their fire.

We stood, perhaps, half an hour after these dispositions were effected
before the signal was given, the dawn gradually brightening over the
whole face of the sky. Now we could observe that we had diverged in
some degree from the main road, and occupied with our little column a
lane hemmed in on both sides by high hedges; presently we were able
to remark that the lane again united itself with the road about a
hundred yards in front of us; then the church and houses of the village
began to show through the darkness like rocks or mounds; by-and-by the
stubble-fields immediately around could be distinguished from green
meadows; then the hedgerows which separated one field from another
became visible. And now the signal-gun was fired. It was immediately
answered by a couple of nine-pounders, which were stationed in a field
adjoining to the lane where we stood; and the battle began.

The three detached companies did their best to surprise the French
pickets, but without success, the French troops being too watchful to
be easily taken. They drove them in, however, in gallant style; and the
little column, according to the preconcerted plan, pressed forward.
Meanwhile the houses and barricade of Urogne were thronged with
defenders, who saluted us, as we approached, with a sharp discharge
of musketry. The bullets whistled round us, but with less effect than
might have been expected. A few men and one officer fell, the latter
being shot through the heart. He uttered but a single word--the name
of his favourite comrade--and expired. On our part we had no time for
firing, but rushed on to the charge; whilst the nine-pounders already
alluded to cleared the barricade with grape and canister. In two
minutes we had reached its base; in an instant more we were on the
top of it; when the enemy, as if panic-struck at the celerity of our
movements, abandoned their defences and fled. We followed them through
the street of the place, as far as its extremity; but having been
previously directed to proceed no farther, we halted there, and they
escaped to the high grounds beyond.

The position now attacked in front of St Jean de Luz was one of which
Lord Wellington himself has said that he never beheld anything more
formidable. It extended for about three miles along the ridge of a
rising ground, the ascent of which was for the most part covered with
thick wood and intersected by deep ditches. These natural defences
Marshal Soult had strengthened with redoubts, open batteries, and
breastworks; the completion of which was begun prior to our passage of
the Bidassoa, and finished during our compulsory halt on the heights
above Handaye. Towards our left, indeed--that is, towards the right
of the enemy, and in the direction of the village which we had just
carried--the works in question presented so commanding an appearance
that our gallant leader deemed it unwise to attempt any serious
impression there; and hence, having possessed ourselves of Urogne, we
were directed to attempt nothing more than to keep it at all hazards,
and to make, from time to time, a demonstration of advancing. This was
done in order to deter Soult from detaching any of this corps to the
assistance of his left, which it was the object of Lord Wellington
to overwhelm, and which, after twelve hours of severe fighting, he
succeeded in turning.

As soon as we had cleared the place of its defenders, we set about
intrenching ourselves, in case any attempt should be made to retake
the village. For this purpose we tore up the barricade erected by the
French, consisting of casks filled with earth, manure, and rubbish, and
rolling them down to the other end of the town, soon threw up a parapet
for our defence. The enemy, meanwhile, began to collect a dense mass of
infantry upon the brow of the hill opposite, and turning a battery of
three pieces of cannon upon us, they swept the street with round-shot.
These whizzing along, caused the walls and roofs of the houses to
crumble; but neither the shot, nor the shells, which from time to time
burst about us, did any considerable execution. By avoiding conspicuous
places, we managed to keep well out of reach; and hence the chief
injury done by the cannonade fell upon the proprietors of houses.

We found in the village a good store of brown bread and several casks
of brandy. The latter were instantly knocked on the head and the
spirits poured out into the street, as the best means of hindering our
men from getting drunk; but the former was divided amongst us; and even
the black bread issued to the French soldiers proved a treat to us, who
had tasted nothing except biscuits, and these none of the most fresh,
for the last three months. We were not, however, allowed much time to
regale ourselves.

It was now about eleven o'clock, and the enemy had as yet made no
attack upon us. We could perceive, indeed, from the glancing of
bayonets through the wood in front, that troops were there mustering;
and as the country was well adapted for skirmishing, being a good
deal intersected with ditches, hedges, and hollow ways, it was deemed
prudent to send out three or four companies to watch their movements.
Among the companies thus sent out was that to which I belonged. We
took a direction to the left of the village, and, being noticed by the
enemy's artillery, were saluted with a shower of round-shot and shell.
Just at this moment a tumbril or ammunition-waggon coming up, a shell
from a French mortar fell upon it. It exploded, and two unfortunate
artillery drivers who chanced to be sitting upon it were hurled into
the air. I looked at them a moment after they fell. One was quite
dead, and dreadfully mangled; the other was as black as a coal, but he
was alive, and groaned heavily. He lifted his head as we passed, and
wished us success. What became of him afterwards I know not, but there
appeared little chance of his recovery.

Having gained a hollow road somewhat in advance of the village, we
found ourselves in connection with a line of skirmishers thrown
out by Colonel Halket from his corps of light Germans, and in some
degree sheltered from the cannonade. But our repose was not of long
continuance. The enemy having collected a large force of tirailleurs,
came on with loud shouts, and every show of determination. His object
seemed to be to catch us in the hollow way, where, because of the
height and steepness of the bank, we should have been at his mercy.
The word was therefore passed to move out and meet him, whereupon we
clambered up the face of the acclivity and dashed forward.

It would be hard to conceive a more animating military spectacle than
met the eye that day, as it moved to the right and left, tracing the
British line. For the benefit of my more peaceable readers, I may
as well mention that troops sent out to skirmish advance or retire
in files; each file, or pair of men, keeping about five yards from
the files on both sides of them. On the present occasion our line of
skirmishers extended about a mile in both directions, all spread out in
a sort of irregular order, and all firing independently of one another,
as the opportunity of a good aim presented itself. On the side of the
French, on the contrary, all was apparent confusion. Yet the French
tirailleurs are by no means in disorder when they appear so. They are
admirable skirmishers; and they gave our people this day a good deal
of employment before they again betook themselves to the heights. They
did not, however, succeed, as I suspect was their design, in drawing
us so far from the village as to expose us to the fire of their masked
batteries; but having followed them across a few fields only, we once
more returned to our hollow road.

It was evident, from the numerous solid bodies of troops which kept
their ground along the enemy's front, that the plan of Lord Wellington
had been successful; and that no force had been sent from the right
of Soult's army to the assistance of his left. The continuous roar of
musketry and cannon which was kept up in that direction proved, at
the same time, that a more serious struggle was going on there than
any to which we were exposed. It was no rapid but intermitting rattle,
like that which we and our opponents from time to time produced; but
an unceasing volley, as if men were able to fire without loading, or
took no time to load. At length Soult appeared to have discovered that
he had little to dread upon his right. About three o'clock we could
observe a heavy column beginning its march to the left; and at the
same instant, as if to cover the movement, the enemy's skirmishers
again advanced. Again we met them, as we had done before, and again
drove them in; when, instead of falling back to the hollow way, we lay
down behind a hedge, midway between the village and the base of their
position. From this they made several attempts to dislodge us, but
without effect; and here we remained till the approach of darkness put
an end to the battle.

The sun had set about an hour when the troops in advance were
everywhere recalled, and I and my companions returned to the village.
Upon it we found that the enemy still kept up an occasional fire of
cannon; and hence that the houses, which were extremely thin, furnished
no sufficient shelter for the troops. It was accordingly determined to
lodge the corps that night in the church; at the door of which, to our
great satisfaction, my friend and I found that our Portuguese servant
was waiting for us. The sumpter-pony was soon unladen; and provisions
and grog being at the same time served out to the men, the graver
business of the day was succeeded by universal jollity and mirth.

The spectacle which the interior of the church of Urogne presented that
night was one which the pious founder of the fabric probably never
contemplated. Along the two side aisles the arms of the battalion were
piled, the men themselves occupying the centre aisle. In the pulpit
were placed the big drum and other musical instruments, a party of
officers taking possession of a gallery erected at the lower extremity
of the building. For our own parts, Grey and myself asserted a claim
to the space round the altar, which in an English church is generally
railed in, but which in foreign churches is distinguished from the rest
of the chancel only by its elevation. Here we spread out our cold salt
beef, our brown bread, our cheese, and our wine; and here we ate and
drank in that state of excited feeling which attends every man who has
gone safely through the perils of such a day.

Nor was the wild nature of the spectacle around us diminished by the
gloomy and wavering light which thirty or forty small rosin tapers
cast over it. Of these, two or three stood beside us upon the altar.
The rest were scattered about by ones and twos in different places,
leaving every interval in a sort of shade, which gave a wider scope to
the imagination than to the senses. The buzz of conversation, too, the
frequent laugh and joke, and, by-and-by, the song, as the grog began
to circulate, all these combined to produce a scene too striking to be
soon forgotten.

As time passed on, all these sounds became more and more faint. The
men, wearied with their day's work, dropped asleep one after another;
and I, having watched them for a while, stretched out like so many
corpses upon the paved floor of the church, wrapped my cloak round me,
and prepared to follow their example. I laid myself at the foot of the
altar; and though the marble was not more soft than marble usually is,
I slept as soundly upon it as if it had been a bed of down.




CHAPTER IX.


We had slept about four or five hours, and the short hours of the
morning were beginning to be lengthened, when our slumbers were
disturbed by the arrival of a messenger from the advanced pickets,
who came to inform us that the enemy were moving. As we had lain down
in our clothes, with all our accoutrements on, we were under arms and
in column in five seconds. It was not, however, deemed necessary that
any immediate advance on our part should be attempted. We remained, on
the contrary, quiet in the church; but, standing in our ranks, we were
perfectly ready to march to any quarter where the sound of firing might
bespeak our presence necessary.

We had stood thus about half an hour, when a second messenger from
the outposts came in, from whom we learned that a blue-light had been
thrown up within the enemy's lines, and that their fires were all
freshly trimmed. "Is it so?" said some of our oldest veterans; "then
there will be no work for us to-day--they are retreating:" and so,
sure enough, it proved. As soon as dawn began to appear, a patrol was
sent forward, which returned immediately to state that not a vestige
of the French army was to be found. Their outposts and sentries were
withdrawn, their baggage was all gone, and the whole of the right
wing had disappeared. The truth was, as soon became apparent, that
Lord Wellington's plan of attack had succeeded at every point. The
enemy's left was turned. His redoubts, after some hard fighting, were
taken; and our people getting into his rear, left to Marshal Soult no
alternative except retreat. On his right, as I have already explained,
no serious impression could be made. There his position defied us. But
our feint deceived him into the hope that we might knock our heads
against a wall; and he delayed too long sending to the quarter where
real danger threatened the reinforcements that were needed. They
arrived in time to see that their vantage-ground was lost; and both
right and left withdrew, quietly and in good order, as soon as darkness
set in.

The intelligence of the enemy's retreat was received with infinite
satisfaction. Not that there was the smallest disinclination on our
part to renew the battle; but the battle being won, there remained
for us the rapture of the chase, than which, in the operations of
war, there is nothing more exciting. Very properly, however, the men
received orders to strengthen themselves against contingencies by
eating, before they began their march. This they did in the little
square or place whither the battalion was moved out of the church,
and round their piled arms--their breakfast, like our own, consisting
of such scraps of bread and meat as remained from the supper of the
previous evening.

While others were thus employed, I went, with two or three officers,
to visit the spot where we had deposited such of our messmates as
fell in the battle of yesterday. It is not often that a soldier is so
fortunate--if indeed the circumstance be worth a wise man's regard--as
to be laid to his rest in consecrated ground. Our gallant comrades
enjoyed that privilege on the present occasion. The soldiers had
collected them from the various spots where they lay, and brought them
in, with a sort of pious respect, to the churchyard. Here they dug a
grave--one grave, it is true, for more than one body; but what boots
it?--and here they entombed them, carefully tearing up the green sod,
and carefully replacing it upon the hillock. For my own part, I had
little time to do more than wish rest to their souls; for the corps was
already in motion, and in five minutes we were in the line of march.

It was dark when the movement began, consequently objects could not
be distinguished at any considerable distance; but the farther we
proceeded, the more strongly the day dawned upon us. Having cleared
the village, we came to a bridge thrown across a little brook, for the
possession of which a good deal of fighting had taken place towards
evening on the previous day. Here we found several French soldiers
lying dead, as well as one of our own men, who had ventured too far in
pursuit. A little way beyond the bridge, and to the left of the road,
stood a neat chateau of some size. This our advanced party was ordered
to search; and as I chanced to be in command of the detachment, the
office of conducting the search devolved upon me.

I found the house furnished after the French fashion, and the furniture
in a state of perfect preservation; nor did I permit the slightest
injury to be done to it by my men. The only article, indeed, which I
was guilty of plundering, was a grammar of the Spanish language, thus
entitled--"Grammaire et Dictionnaire François et Espagnol--Nouvellement
Revû, Corrigé et Augmenté par Monsieur de Maunory: Suivant l'Usage de
la Cour d'Espagne." Upon one of the boards is written--_Appartient a
Lassalle Briguette, Lassallee_. The book is still in my possession;
and as our countries are now at peace, I take this opportunity of
informing Mr Briguette that I am quite ready to restore to him his
property, provided he will favour me with his address.

The room from which I took the volume just alluded to was the library,
and by no means badly stored with books. There was not, however, much
time to decipher the title-pages; for, independently of the necessity
under which we lay of pushing forward as soon as we had ascertained
that none of the enemy were secreted here, my attention was attracted
by a mass of letters scattered over the floor. The reader may judge of
my surprise, when, on lifting one to examine its contents, I found it
to be in the handwriting of my own father, and addressed to myself. It
was of a later date, too, than any communication which I had received
from home; and beside it were lying about twenty others, directed
to different officers in the same division with myself. This let me
into a secret. The house in which I now stood had been the official
headquarters of Marshal Soult. A courier, who was bringing letters
from Lord Wellington's headquarters, had been cut off by a patrol of
the enemy's cavalry; and hence all our epistles, including sundry
_billets-doux_ from fair maidens at home, had been subjected to the
scrutiny of the French marshal and his staff.

Leaving other epistles to their fate, I put my own in my pocket, and,
stuffing my volume of plunder into my bosom, pushed on. About a hundred
yards in rear of the chateau we arrived at the first line of works,
consisting of a battery for two guns, with a deep trench in front of
it. It was flanked both on the right and left by farmhouses, with a
good deal of plantation, and a couple of garden walls, and would have
cost our people no inconsiderable loss had we been foolhardy enough
to attack it. It was erected just upon the commencement of the rising
ground. On passing it we found ourselves at the ascent of a bare hill,
about the altitude, perhaps, of Shooter's Hill, and not dissimilar in
general appearance, the summit of which was covered by three redoubts,
connected, the one with the other, by two open batteries. As we gazed
at these, we could not but remark to ourselves how painful must have
been the feelings of the French general when compelled to abandon them;
and we, of course, paid the compliments which were his due to our
own leader, by whose judicious management the labours of months were
rendered profitless to such an adversary.

We had just cleared the intrenchments when a cry arose from the rear,
"Make way for the cavalry!" Our men, accordingly, inclined to the
right of the road, when the 12th and 16th light dragoons rode past at
a quick trot, sending out half a troop before them to feel their way.
The object of this movement, as we afterwards found, was to hinder,
if possible, the destruction of the bridge at St Jean de Luz; but the
attempt succeeded only in part, the enemy having already set fire to
their train.

"Push on, push on," was now the word. We accordingly quickened our
pace, and reached St Jean de Luz about nine o'clock; but we were too
late to secure a passage of the Nivelle, the bridge being already
in ruins. Our cavalry had reached it only in time to see the mine
exploded, which the French troops had dug in its centre arch; and hence
a halt became necessary till the chasm thus created should be filled
up. The effect was remarkably striking; the whole of the first and
fifth divisions, with the King's German legion, several brigades of
Portuguese, and two divisions of Spanish troops, came pouring up, till
the southern suburb of St Jean de Luz was filled with armed men, to the
number of perhaps twenty or thirty thousand.

It is probably needless for me to say that we found St Jean de Luz for
the most part abandoned by its inhabitants. Here and there, indeed,
a few faces were protruded from windows and balconies, and feeble
cries of _Vivent les Anglois!_ and the waving of threescore or so of
handkerchiefs, greeted our progress. But the persons so conducting
themselves belonged exclusively to the lower orders, for the gentry and
municipality were gone. It is just to add, however, that in the course
of a very few days both the gentry and municipal authorities returned,
and that they, and indeed all the inhabitants of the place, were not
only protected from insult and wrong, but encouraged to resume, as they
did, their usual occupations.

While the column halted till the bridge should be so far repaired as
to permit the infantry to cross, I happened to stray a little from the
main street, and beheld, in a lane which ran parallel with the river,
a spectacle exceedingly shocking. I saw no fewer than fifty-three
donkeys standing with the sinews of the hinder legs cut through. On
inquiring from an inhabitant the cause of this, he told me that these
poor brutes, being overloaded with the baggage of the French army, had
knocked up; when the soldiers, rather than suffer them to fall into our
hands in a serviceable condition, hamstrung them all. Why they were not
merciful enough to shoot them, I know not; unless, indeed, they were
apprehensive of causing an alarm among us by the report. But what their
caution hindered we performed: the poor creatures were all shot dead
ere we advanced.

The town of St Jean de Luz covers about as much ground, and, I should
imagine, contains about as many inhabitants, as Carlisle or Canterbury.
It is divided into two parts by the river Nivelle, which falls into
the sea about a couple or three miles below, at a village, or rather
port, called Secoa. Like other French towns of its size, St Jean de Luz
is not remarkable for its air of neatness; but there are in it a good
market-place, two or three churches, and a theatre. The Nivelle, where
it flows through the city, may be about the width of the Eden or the
Isis. It is rendered passable, and the two quarters of the city are
connected, by a stone bridge of three arches--beside which, the stream
itself is fordable, both for cavalry and infantry, at low water. When
we came in this morning the tide was up, but it had been for some time
on the turn; and hence, in about a couple of hours, we were perfectly
independent of the repairs. By this time, however, the broken arch had
been united by means of planks and beams of wood; but as the junction
was none of the most firm, it was deemed prudent to send the troopers
through the water, the infantry only crossing by the bridge. Along with
the cavalry was sent the artillery also; and thus, by noon on the 11th
of November, the whole of the left column had passed the Nivelle.

We had hardly quitted St Jean de Luz when the weather, which during
the entire morning had looked suspicious, broke, and a cold heavy rain
began to fall. This lasted without any intermission till dark, by which
means our march became the reverse of agreeable; and we felt as if we
would have given the enemy a safe-conduct as far as Bayonne, in return
for permission to halt and dry ourselves before a fire. But of halting
no hint was dropped; nor was it till our advanced-guard came up with
the rear of the French army, posted in the village of Bidart, and along
the heights adjoining, that any check was given to our progress. As it
was now late, the sun having set and twilight coming on, it was not
judged expedient to dislodge the enemy till morning; in consequence of
which our troops were commanded to halt. But there was no cover for
them. Only a few cottages stood near the road, and the tents were at
least fourteen miles in the rear; the night was accordingly spent by
most of us on the wet ground.

From the moment that the rain began to fall we remarked that the
Spanish, and in some instances the Portuguese troops, setting the
commands of their officers at defiance, left their ranks, and
scattered themselves over the face of the country. While this was
going on, I have good reason to believe that several horrible crimes
were perpetrated. Of the French peasants, many, trusting to our
proclamations, remained quietly in their houses; these were, in too
many instances, plundered and cruelly treated by the marauders, who
were, I suspect, urged on to the commission of numerous atrocities by
a feeling far more powerful than the desire of plunder. A strong and
overwhelming thirst of vengeance drew, I am convinced, many to the
perpetration of terrible deeds; indeed, one case of the kind came under
my own immediate notice, which I shall here relate.

About three o'clock in the afternoon, a temporary check took place in
the line of march, when the corps to which I belonged was about two
miles distant from Bidart. A brigade of cavalry alone was in front of
us. A Portuguese brigade, including one regiment of caçadores, was in
our rear. We stood still in our places; but the caçadore regiment,
breaking its ranks, rushed in a tumultuous manner towards two or
three cottages on the left of the road. The officers, with the utmost
difficulty, recalled them; but a few individuals, as the event proved,
succeeded in their effort of insubordination. These, however, were not
noticed at the time, and it was thought that all were where they ought
to be.

A little way, perhaps a couple of hundred yards, in front, stood
another French cottage, surrounded by a garden, and detached from all
others. In about five minutes after order had been restored, we heard
a female shriek come from that cottage. It was followed by the report
of a musket; and ere we had time to reach the spot, another shot was
fired. We ran up and found a poor old French peasant lying dead at
the bottom of the garden. A bullet had passed through his head, and
his thin grey hairs were dyed with his own blood. We hastened towards
the house; and just as we neared the door, a caçadore rushed out, and
attempted to elude us. But he was hotly pursued and taken. When he was
brought back, we entered the cottage, and, to our horror, we saw an old
woman, in all probability the wife of the aged peasant, lying dead in
the kitchen.

The desperate Portuguese did not deny having perpetrated these murders.
He seemed, on the contrary, wound up to a pitch of frenzy. "They
murdered my father, they cut my mother's throat, and they ravished my
sister," said he; "and I vowed at the time that I would put to death
the first French family that fell into my hands. You may hang me, if
you will, but I have kept my oath, and I don't care for dying." It is
unnecessary to add that the man was hanged; indeed, not fewer than
eighteen Spanish and Portuguese soldiers were tucked up, in the course
of this and the following days, to the branches of trees. But I could
not at the time avoid thinking that if any shadow of excuse for murder
can be framed, the unfortunate Portuguese who butchered this French
family deserves the benefit of it.

I have said that the greater part of the left column spent this night
in no very comfortable plight, upon the wet ground. For ourselves, we
were moved into what had once been a grass field, just at the base of
the hill of Bidart, but which, with the tread of men's feet and horses'
hoofs, was now battered into mud. Here, with the utmost difficulty, we
succeeded in lighting fires, round which we crowded as we best might.
But the rain still came down in torrents; and though our lad arrived
shortly after with the cloaks, and rations of beef and biscuit and rum
were served out to us, I cannot enumerate this among the nights of pure
enjoyment which my life as a soldier has frequently brought in my way.




CHAPTER X.


When I awoke next morning, I found myself lying in a perfect puddle
beside the decaying embers of a fire. The rain had come down so
incessantly and with such violence during the night, that my cloak,
though excellent of its kind, stood not out against it, and I was now
as thoroughly saturated with water as if I had been dragged through the
Nivelle. Of course my sensations were not of a very pleasant nature;
but I considered that I was far from singular in my condition, and,
like my comrades, I laughed at an evil for which there was no remedy.

Having remained under arms till day had fully dawned, we began to make
ready for a further advance. When we lay down on the preceding evening,
several brigades of French troops were in possession of Bidart. These
we naturally laid our account with attacking; but on sending forward
a patrol, it was found that the village had been abandoned, and that
Soult had fallen back to his intrenched camp in front of Bayonne. Our
parade was accordingly dismissed; and we remained in the same situation
for about four hours, when the arrival of the tents and baggage invited
us to make ourselves somewhat more comfortable. For this purpose the
brigade was moved about a quarter of a mile to the left of the main
road; and there, on a skirt of turf comparatively sound and unbroken,
the camp was pitched.

In the immediate vicinity of the tents stood a small farmhouse, or
rather a large cottage, containing three rooms and a kitchen. Thither a
good many of the officers, and myself among the number, removed their
canteens and portmanteaus, till no fewer than forty-five individuals,
including servants as well as masters, found a temporary shelter under
its roof. I am sure, after all, that I was not more comfortable there
than I should have been in my tent; but I fancied that to sleep upon a
bed once more, even though it was a French one, would prove a luxury;
and I made the experiment. It is needless to add that the bed contained
whole hordes of living occupants besides myself, and that I did not
venture again to dispute with them the possession of their ancient
domain.

From the 12th to the 17th November nothing occurred to myself, nor were
any movements made by the left of the British army worthy of being
related. The rain continued, with hardly any intermission, during
the whole of that time, rendering the cross-roads utterly impassable
for artillery, and holding out no prospect of fresh battles or fresh
adventures. It was indeed manifest that the troops could not be kept
much longer in the field without material injury to their health,
which began already to be threatened with dysentery and ague. Nor is
it surprising that the case should be so; for the tents were not proof
against showers so heavy and incessant as fell, and canvas, when once
completely soaked, allows water to pass through it like a sieve. The
consequence was that our men were never dry, and many began to exhibit
symptoms of the complaints above alluded to.

Under these circumstances, we received with sincere rejoicing an order
in the evening of the 17th to strike our tents at dawn next morning,
and to march into winter quarters. The rain descended, however, in such
torrents, that though a temporary inconvenience promised to lead to
permanent comfort, it was deemed prudent to delay fulfilling that order
for at least some hours. We accordingly remained quiet till about one
o'clock in the afternoon of the 18th, when, the weather breaking up,
and the sun shining out, our camp was struck, and we turned our faces
towards the cantonments which had been allotted to us.

Having cleared the few fields which intervened between the situation
of the camp and the highroad, we left Bidart behind, and took a
retrograde direction towards St Jean de Luz. We had not, however,
proceeded above five or six miles, and were still a full league distant
from the town, when, on reaching a cross-road which ran in a direction
to the left, we filed off and made for a piece of elevated country,
over which some half-dozen farmhouses were scattered. These were
assigned to the corps to which I belonged. We accordingly halted on
a sort of common near the centre of them, and having cast lots as to
which house should fall to the share of the different companies, Grey,
myself, and two others, with about a hundred men, took possession of
one, with which we were perfectly satisfied.

It would be difficult for an ordinary reader to form any adequate
notion of the extreme satisfaction which soldiers experience when first
they establish themselves in winter quarters. As long as the weather
continues fine, and summer suns shed their influence over it, there are
indeed few places more agreeable than a camp. But it is not so after
the summer has departed. I have already hinted that against heavy and
continued rains a tent supplies but an inadequate shelter. A tent is,
moreover, but a narrow chamber, in which it is not easy so much as to
stand upright, excepting in one spot, and where all opportunity of
locomotion is denied. It furnishes, moreover, little protection against
cold--to light a fire within being impossible on account of the smoke;
and hence the only means of keeping yourself warm is to wrap your cloak
or a blanket about you, and to lie down. Occasionally, indeed, I have
seen red-hot shot employed as heaters; but the kind of warmth which
arises from heated iron is, at least to me, hardly more agreeable than
that which is produced by charcoal. In a word, however enthusiastic
a man may be in his profession, he begins, about the end of October
or the beginning of November, to grow heartily tired of campaigning,
and looks forward to a few weeks' rest, and a substantial protection
against cold and damps, with almost as much pleasure as he experiences
when the return of spring calls him once more into the field.

The farmhouses in the south of France, like those in Spain, are rarely
provided with fireplaces in any other apartment than the kitchen. It
is, indeed, customary for families to live during the winter months
entirely with their servants; and hence the want of a fireplace in
the parlour is not felt any more than in the bedrooms. I observed,
likewise, that hardly any _maison_ of the kind was furnished with
glazed windows, wooden lattices being almost universally substituted.
These, during the summer months, are kept open all day, and closed
only at night; and I believe that the extreme mildness of the climate
renders an open window at such seasons very agreeable. On the present
occasion, however, we anticipated no slight annoyance from the absence
of these two essential matters, a chimney and a window in our room; and
we immediately set our wits to work to remove the evil.

Both Grey's servant and my own chanced to be exceedingly ingenious
fellows; the former, in particular, could, to use a vulgar phrase, turn
his hand to anything. Under his directions we set a party of men to
work, and, knocking a hole through one corner of our room, we speedily
converted it into a fireplace. To give vent to the smoke, we took the
trouble to build an external chimney, carrying it up as high as the
roof of the house; and our pride and satisfaction were neither of them
trifling when we found that it drew to admiration. I cannot say that
the masonry was very exact, or that the sort of buttress added to the
mansion improved its general appearance; but it had the effect of
rendering our apartment exceedingly comfortable, and that was the sole
object which we had in view.

Having thus provided for our warmth, the next thing to be done was to
manufacture such a window as might supply us with light, and at the
same time resist the weather. For this purpose we lifted a couple of
lattices from their hinges, and having cut out four panels in each,
we covered the spaces with white paper soaked in oil. The light thus
admitted was not, indeed, very brilliant, but it was sufficient for all
our purposes; and we found, when the storm again returned, that our
oil-paper stood out against it stoutly. Then, having swept our floor,
unpacked and arranged the contents of our canteen, and provided good
dry hay-sacks for our couches, we felt as if the whole world could have
supplied no better or more desirable habitation.

To build the chimney and construct the window furnished occupation
enough for one day; the next was spent in cutting wood, and laying
in a store of fuel against the winter. In effecting this, it must be
confessed that we were not over-fastidious as to the source from which
it was derived; and hence a greater number of fruit-trees were felled
and cut to pieces than perhaps there was any positive necessity to
destroy. But it is impossible to guard against every little excess
when troops have established themselves in an enemy's country; and
the French have just cause of thankfulness that so little comparative
devastation marked the progress of our armies. Their own, it is well
known, were not remarkable for their orderly conduct in such countries
as they overran.

I have dwelt upon these little circumstances longer perhaps than their
insignificance in the eyes of my reader may warrant, but I could not
help it. There is no period of my life on which I look back with more
unmixed pleasure than that which saw me for the first time set down in
winter quarters. And hence every trifling incident connected with it,
however unimportant to others, appears the reverse of unimportant to
me. And such, I believe, is universally the case when a man undertakes
to be his own biographer. Things and occurrences which, to the world
at large, seem wholly undeserving of record, his own feelings prompt
him to detail with unusual minuteness, even though he may be conscious
all the while that he is entering upon details which his readers will
scarcely take the trouble to follow.

Having thus rendered our quarters as snug as they were capable of being
made, my friend and myself proceeded daily into the adjoining woods in
search of game; and as the frost set in we found them amply stored,
not only with hares and rabbits, but with woodcocks, snipes, and other
birds of passage. We were not, however, so fortunate as to fall in
with any of the wild boars which are said to frequent these thickets,
though we devoted more than one morning to the search; but we managed
to supply our own table, and the tables of several of our comrades,
with a very agreeable addition to the lean beef which was issued out
to us. Nor were other luxuries wanting. The peasantry, having recovered
their confidence, returned in great numbers to their homes, and seldom
failed to call at our mansion once or twice a-week with wine, fresh
bread, cider, and bottled beer; by the help of which we continued to
fare well as long as our fast-diminishing stock of money lasted. I say
fast-diminishing stock of money, for as yet no addition had been made
to that which each of us brought with him from England; and though the
pay of the army was now six months in arrear, but faint hopes were
entertained of any immediate donative.

It was not, however, among regimental and other inferior officers alone
that this period of military inaction was esteemed and acted upon
as one of enjoyment. Lord Wellington's fox-hounds were unkennelled;
and he himself took the field regularly twice a-week, as if he had
been a denizen of Leicestershire, or any other sporting county in
England. I need not add that few packs in any county could be better
attended. Not that the horses of all the huntsmen were of the best
breed, or of the gayest appearance; but what was wanting in individual
splendour, was made up by the number of Nimrods; nor would it be easy
to discover a field more fruitful in laughable occurrences, which no
man more heartily enjoyed than the gallant Marquess himself. When
the hounds were out, he was no longer the Commander of the Forces,
the General-in-Chief of three nations, and the representative of
three sovereigns, but the gay merry country gentleman, who rode at
everything, and laughed as loud when he fell himself as when he
witnessed the fall of a brother sportsman.

Thus passed about twenty days, during the greater number of which the
sky was clear and the air cold and bracing. Occasionally, indeed, we
varied our sporting life by visits to St Jean de Luz, and other towns
in the rear, and by seeking out old friends in other divisions of the
army. Nor were we altogether without military occupation. Here and
there a redoubt was thrown up for the purpose of rendering our position
doubly secure; and the various brigades of each division relieved one
another in taking the duty of the outposts. A trifling skirmish or
two likewise tended to keep us alive; but these were followed by no
movement of importance, nor were they very fatal either to the enemy or
ourselves.

The position which Lord Wellington thus took up extended from the
village of Bidart on the left to a place called Garret's House on the
right. It embraced various other villages, such as that of Arcanques,
Gauthory, &c. &c., between these points, and kept the extremities of
the line at a distance of perhaps six or seven miles from each other.
To a common observer it certainly had in it nothing imposing, or
calculated to give the idea of great natural strength. On the left, in
particular, our troops, when called into the field, occupied a level
plain, wooded indeed, but very little broken; whilst at different
points in the centre there were passes easy of approach, and far from
defensible in any extraordinary degree. But its strength was well
tried, as I shall take occasion shortly to relate; and the issue of the
trial proved that no error had been committed in its selection.

Of the manner in which the right and centre columns were disposed I
knew but little. The left column, consisting of the first and fifth
divisions, of two or three brigades of Portuguese infantry, one brigade
of light and one of heavy cavalry, was thus posted: The town of St Jean
de Luz, in which Lord Wellington had fixed his quarters, was occupied
by three or four battalions of Guards; its suburbs were given up to
such corps of the German legion as were attached to the first division.
In and about the town the light cavalry was likewise quartered; whilst
the heavy was sent back to Handaye and the villages near it, on account
of the facility of procuring forage which there existed. The Spaniards
had again fallen back as far as Irun, and were not brought up during
the remainder of the winter; but the Portuguese regiments were
scattered, like ourselves, among a number of detached cottages near the
road. In the village of Bidart was posted the fifth division, a battery
or two of field-artillery, and the men and horses attached to them; and
to it the duty of watching the enemy, and keeping possession of the
ground on which the pickets stood, was committed. Thus, along the line
of the highroad was housed a corps of about fifteen thousand infantry,
twelve hundred cavalry, and a due proportion of artillery--all under
the immediate command of Sir John Hope.

In direct communication with the head of this column was the light
division, under the command of Major-General Baron Alten. It consisted
of the 43d, 52d, and 95th regiments, of a brigade or two of caçadores,
and mustered in all about four or five thousand bayonets. These
occupied the church and village of Arcanques, situated upon a rising
ground, and of considerable natural strength. Beyond this division
again lay the fourth; in connection with which were the third, the
seventh, and the second divisions; whilst the sixth took post a little
in the rear, and acted as a reserve, in case a reserve should be
wanting.

I have said that Lord Wellington's headquarters were in St Jean de
Luz. Here also Sir John Hope, and several generals of division and
of brigade, established themselves; and here all the general staff
of the army was posted. Of course the place was kept in a state of
warlike gaiety, such as it had not probably witnessed before, at least
in modern times; but everything was done which could be thought of
to conciliate the goodwill of the inhabitants: nor was the slightest
outrage or riot permitted. Such is the manner in which the British army
was disposed of from the 18th of November, when it first went into
cantonments, till the 9th of December, when it was found necessary once
more to take the field.




CHAPTER XI.


I had been out with my gun during the whole of the 8th of December,
and returned at a late hour in the evening, not a little weary with
wandering, when the first intelligence communicated to me was that
the corps had received orders to be under arms at an early hour next
morning, when the whole of the army would advance. In a former chapter
I have hinted that a continued tract of rainy weather drove Lord
Wellington, earlier than he had intended, and against his inclination,
into winter quarters. The consequence was, that the position of the
army was not in every respect to his mind. The right, in particular,
was too far thrown back; and the course of the Nivelle interfered in
a very inconvenient degree with the communications between it and the
left. We were accordingly given to understand that the object of our
present movement was merely to facilitate the crossing of that river
by Sir Rowland Hill's corps; and that as soon as this object was
attained, we should be permitted to return in peace to our comfortable
quarters.

In consequence of this information, Grey and myself made fewer
preparations than we had been in the habit of doing on other and
similar occasions. Instead of packing up our baggage, and ordering out
our sumpter-pony and faithful Portuguese, we left everything in our
apartment in its ordinary condition. Strict charges were indeed given
to the servants that a cheerful fire and a substantial meal should be
prepared against our return in the evening; but we put up neither food
nor clothes for immediate use, in full expectation that such things
would not be required.

The night of the 8th passed quietly over, and I arose about two hours
before dawn on the 9th, perfectly fresh, and, like those around me, in
high spirits. We had been so long idle, that the near prospect of a
little fighting, instead of creating gloomy sensations, was viewed with
sincere delight; and we took our places, and began our march towards
the highroad, in silence, it is true, but with extreme goodwill. There
we remained stationary till the day broke; when the word being given to
advance, we pushed forward in the direction of Bayonne.

The brigade to which I belonged took post at the head of the first
division, and immediately in rear of the fifth. The situation afforded
to me on several occasions, as the inequalities of the road placed
me from time to time on the summit of an eminence, very favourable
opportunities of beholding the whole of the warlike mass which was
moving; nor is it easy to imagine a more imposing or more elevating
spectacle. The entire left wing of the army advanced in a single
continuous column along the main road, and covered, at the most
moderate computation, a space of four miles. As far, indeed, as the eye
could reach, nothing was to be seen except swarms of infantry, clothed
not only in scarlet, but in green, blue, and brown uniforms. Here and
there a brigade of guns occupied a vacant space between the last files
of one division and the first of another, and in rear of all came the
cavalry. Of their appearance I was unable accurately to judge, they
were so distant.

We had proceeded about five miles, and it was past eight o'clock, when,
our advanced-guard falling in with the French pickets, a smart skirmish
began. It was really a beautiful sight. The enemy made, it is true,
no very determined stand; but they did not give up a rood of ground
without exchanging a few shots with their assailants, who pressed
forward, vigorously indeed, but with all the caution and circumspection
which mark the advance of a skilful skirmisher. The column, in the
meanwhile, moved slowly but steadily on; nor was it once called upon,
during the whole of the day, to deploy into line.

When the light troops of an army are engaged as ours were this morning,
the heavy infantry marches at a slow rate; and short halts or checks
are constantly occurring. These befel to-day with unusual frequency.
The fact, I believe, was, that Lord Wellington had no desire to bring
his left into determined action at all. His object was fully attained
as long as he kept the right of the enemy in a state of anxiety and
irresolution; but the ground which we gained was in no degree important
to the furtherance of the sole design which we had in view. Of course
the tardiness of our motions gave a better opportunity of watching the
progress of those connected with us; nor have I ever beheld a field-day
at home more regularly gone through than this trifling affair of the
9th December.

It was getting somewhat late--perhaps it might be three or four o'clock
in the afternoon--when our column, having overcome all opposition,
halted on some rising ground about three miles from the walls of
Bayonne. From this point we obtained a perfect view of the outworks of
that town, as well as of the formidable line of fortifications which
Soult had thrown up along the course of the Adour; but of the city
itself we saw little, on account of several groves of elm and other
trees which intervened. It will readily be imagined that we turned
our glasses towards the intrenched camp with feelings very different
from those which actuate an ordinary observer of the face of a strange
country. That the French marshal had been at work upon these lines not
only from the moment of his last defeat, but from the very first day of
his assuming the command of the army of Spain, we were aware; and hence
we were by no means surprised at beholding such an obstacle presented
to our further progress in France. But I cannot say that the sight cast
even a damp upon our usual confidence. We knew that whatever could be
done to render these mighty preparations useless our gallant general
would effect; and perhaps we were each of us vain enough to believe
that nothing could resist our own individual valour. Be that as it
may, though we freely acknowledged that many a brave fellow must find
a grave ere these works could come into our possession, we would have
advanced to the attack at the instant, not only without reluctance, but
with the most perfect assurance of success.

The sound of firing had gradually subsided--the enemy having withdrawn
within their intrenchments, and our skirmishers being called in to join
their respective corps. The left column, dividing itself according to
its brigades, had taken post along a ridge of high ground, and our men,
piling their arms, set about lighting fires in all directions, when
I wandered from the corps, as my invariable custom was, in search of
adventures. I had strolled forward for the purpose of obtaining, if
possible, a more perfect view of the enemy's lines, and was stepping
across a ditch on my return, when a low groan, as if from some person
in acute pain, attracted my notice. I looked down into the ditch, which
was, perhaps, four feet deep, and beheld three human beings lying at
the bottom of it. They were all perfectly naked, and two of them were
motionless. On farther examination, I found that they were three French
soldiers, of whom one only was alive; and he lay bleeding from a severe
wound in the face, a musket-ball having broken both cheek-bones. He
was, however, sensible; so I ran for help, and he was carried by some
of our people to a neighbouring house. Here the poor fellow, whom his
own countrymen had stripped and deserted, was well taken care of; but
he had suffered so much from exposure to cold that all attempts to
preserve life were vain, and he died in about a quarter of an hour
after his wound was dressed.

In the meanwhile Lord Wellington, putting himself at the head of
a small body of cavalry, and attended by a few companies of light
infantry, proceeded to the front in order to reconnoitre the enemy's
works. This he was permitted to do without any further molestation
than arose from the occasional discharge of a field-gun, as he and his
party presented a favourable mark to the gunners. But neither he nor
his followers received the slightest injury from these discharges; and
by six in the evening he had effected every object which he desired
to accomplish. Orders were accordingly issued for the troops to fall
back to their former quarters; and the main road was again crowded
with armed men marching to the rear, in a fashion not perhaps quite so
orderly as that which distinguished their advance.

A heavy rain had begun about an hour previous to this movement,
accompanied by a cold wind which blew directly in our faces; darkness,
too, set rapidly in; the road soon became deep and muddy, from the
trampling of a multitude of men and horses; and something like an
inclination to grumble began to arise in our bosoms. Perhaps I need not
tell the reader that between the infantry and cavalry in the British
army a considerable degree of jealousy exists--the former description
of force regarding the latter as more ornamental than useful, the
latter regarding the former as extremely ungenteel. I was myself an
officer of infantry; and I perfectly recollect the feelings which were
excited at a particular period of the march when the corps, weary,
wet, and hungry, was rudely ordered by a squadron or two of light
troopers to "get out of the way, and allow them to pass." Recollect,
good reader, that the rain was falling as if it had come from buckets;
that each infantry soldier carries a load of perhaps fifty pounds
weight about his person; that our brave fellows had walked under this
load upwards of fourteen miles, and were still six long miles from a
place of rest,--and you will not wonder that the troopers were saluted
with "curses not loud but deep," as they somewhat wantonly jostled
their less fortunate comrades into the deepest and dirtiest sides of
the way. I must confess that I shared in the indignation of my men;
though, of course, I exerted myself as much as possible to prevent its
being more openly displayed.

Never has any saloon, when brilliantly lighted up and filled with the
splendour and elegance of a fashionable assembly, appeared half so
attractive to my eyes as did our own humble apartment this evening,
with its carpetless floor, its logs of wood arranged instead of chairs,
and a few deals, or rather a piece of scaffolding, placed in the
centre as a substitute for a table. A large fire was blazing on the
rudely-constructed hearth, which shed a bright glare over the white
walls; and our unpolished table being covered with a clean cloth, over
which were arranged plates, knives, forks, and drinking-cups, gave
promise of a substantial meal, and of an evening of real enjoyment.
Nor were our hopes blighted. We had just time to strip off our wet
and muddy garments, and to substitute others in their room, when a
huge piece of roast-beef smoked upon the board, and summoned us to
an occupation more agreeable than any which could have been at that
moment proposed to us. Moreover, our faithful valets had taken care to
provide an ample supply of wine, a bottle or two of champagne, with
claret of no mean quality, which, with a little French beer, brisk
and weak, and well-flavoured, served exceedingly well to wash down
the more solid portions of our repast. To complete the thing, a few
of our most intimate companions dropping in soon after the fragments
had been cleared away, our cigars were lighted, and the atmosphere of
the apartment became speedily impregnated with the delicious fumes of
tobacco--in sending forth clouds of which, no other interruption took
place than was produced by an occasional uplifting of the wine-cup to
the lips, and an expression, or short ejaculation, indicative of the
perfect satisfaction of him who uttered it. I have seen many merry and
many happy days and nights, both before and since, but an evening of
more quiet luxury than this I certainly do not recollect at any period
to have spent.

At length the fatigues of the day began to tell upon us in a degree
somewhat too powerful for enjoyment. We had been under arms from four
in the morning till nine at night, during the whole of which time
no opportunity of eating had been supplied to us; nor had we been
permitted to unbend either our minds or bodies in any effectual degree.
Like other animals who have fasted long, we had all gorged ourselves as
soon as the means of so doing were furnished; and hence the sensation
of absolute rest degenerated gradually into languor, and sleep laid
his leaden fingers on our eyelids. I do not believe that half-a-dozen
sentences of ordinary length had been uttered amongst us when, about
eleven o'clock, our last cup of wine was drained off; and our guests
departing each to his own billet, we betook ourselves to our pallets. I
need not add that our slumber was thoroughly unbroken.




CHAPTER XII.


I arose next morning refreshed and vigorous, and prepared to follow my
ordinary occupation of shooting. It was a clear frosty day, the sun was
shining brightly overhead, and a thousand little birds were rejoicing
in the warmth of his beams. My dogs were in high condition; my gun
was clean and in good order; and myself big with the determination
not to fire in too great a hurry, but to be sure of my aim before I
pulled the trigger. Thus attended, and thus animated, I set forth after
breakfast; and having previously ascertained the favourite haunt of a
hare which had more than once escaped me, I turned my steps towards it.
My faithful spaniel had just begun to give tongue, and my fowling-piece
was already in a position to be lifted at once to my shoulder, when
the report of a single cannon, coming from the front, attracted my
attention. I stopped short, but had not time to call in my dog when
another and another discharge took place, mixed with an occasional
rattle of musketry. This was warning enough. Though the hare started
from her seat, I permitted her to depart in peace; and whistling loudly
for my four-footed companions, I ran back towards my quarters. As I
proceeded, the firing became every moment more and more heavy, till at
length it had increased into an uninterrupted roar.

On reaching the houses, I found that the alarm was already given. The
bugles were sounding to recall such as might be abroad, and the men
were accoutring with all haste. For ourselves, Grey and I took care on
the present occasion to make better provision against detention than
we had done the day before; but our baggage we were obliged to leave,
that it might be packed and made ready for removal by our batmen.
Aide-de-camp after aide-de-camp passed, in the meanwhile, to and
fro--one galloping from the front to urge an immediate advance, another
galloping from the rear to ascertain how matters were going; whilst the
various battalions, as each was equipped and ready, hurried down to the
main road to join its particular brigade.

A quarter of an hour had scarcely elapsed from the moment that the
alarm was first given when we found ourselves marching once more in
the same direction, and nearly in the same order, as yesterday. Our
march had in it, however, even more of deep excitement than that of
the preceding day. We had not proceeded above a mile when indications
of what was going on in front began to present themselves, in the form
of baggage-mules and horses pouring in all haste and confusion to the
rear. A wounded man or two likewise from time to time dragged himself
in the same direction, and gave, as the wounded invariably do, the
most alarming account of the state of affairs. "Push on, push on, for
God's sake!" said one poor fellow who had been shot in the head, and
was lying, rather than sitting, across a horse; "push on, or it will be
all over. Forty thousand of the enemy are coming on, and there not two
thousand men up to oppose them." Of course we quickened our pace with
infinite goodwill.

A group of perhaps twenty wounded privates and officers had passed,
when the next body which met us was a detachment of ten sound men and
a sergeant, who were conducting to the rear about a hundred French
prisoners. These were saluted with a cheer; but even these urged us
forward, with the intelligence that the fifth division must soon be
overpowered. And now the scene of action began to open upon us. We
had passed through Bidart, and were descending the little eminence
on which it stands, when the combatants became distinguishable; and
a very magnificent as well as gratifying spectacle they presented.
The merest handful of British troops were opposing themselves, in the
most determined manner, to a mass of men so dense and so extended as
to cover the whole of the main road as far as the eye could reach. Our
people were, it is true, giving way. They had already maintained an
unequal contest for upwards of two hours; and their numbers, originally
small, were fast diminishing. But no sooner had the head of our column
shown itself than their confidence returned, and they renewed the
struggle with increased alacrity.

The same circumstance which gave fresh courage to our comrades, acted,
as may be supposed, in a contrary manner upon the enemy. Not that they
fell into confusion, or exhibited any symptoms of dismay; but it was
evident, from their mode of proceeding, that their general had lost his
confidence of immediate success, and that he deemed it necessary to
trust less to the weight of his single column, and to add manœuvring
and skill to brute violence. His attack was accordingly suspended,
while a battery of ten or twelve guns being brought to the front,
opened, not upon the division with which he had been hitherto engaged,
but upon us. And I must confess that the guns were well served. The
gunners laying them for a particular bend in the road caused us to
suffer some loss long before we arrived within range of musketry.

As soon as we had passed this perilous spot, we abandoned the main
road, and turning into an open green field on the right, wheeled
into line. In front of us was a thick wood, for the possession of
which our people and the French were warmly struggling. On our side,
it was garrisoned by a battalion of Portuguese and a couple of
British regiments, and it was assaulted by a perfect swarm of French
tirailleurs; but neither did the latter succeed in driving their
opponents through it, nor could the former deliver themselves from the
annoyance of continual assaults. It was peculiarly the business of
the battalion to which I belonged to give support to the defenders of
that wood. For this purpose company after company was sent forward, as
a fresh supply of men became necessary; whilst two other battalions,
continuing steadily in line, prepared to use the bayonet with effect,
in case our efforts to maintain our ground should prove unavailing.

Even the unwarlike reader will probably understand me when I say that
the feelings of a man hurried into battle as we were to-day are totally
different from those of the same man who goes gradually, and as it were
preparedly, into danger. We had dreamed of nothing less than a general
action this morning, and we found ourselves bearing the brunt of it
before we could very well make up our minds as to the proximity of an
enemy. Everything was accordingly done, every word spoken and every
movement made, under the influence of that species of excitement which
shuts out all ideas except those which spring from the circumstances
immediately about you--I mean an apprehension lest your own men shall
give way, and an inexpressible eagerness to close with your adversary.
Nor were sundry opportunities wanting of gratifying the last of these
desires. We fought, at least where I was stationed, in a thick wood;
and more than once it occurred that we fought hand to hand.

Affairs had continued in this state till about three in the afternoon,
when the enemy, as if weary with their fruitless efforts, began to
slacken in their exertions, and gradually to fall back. Not very far
from the spot where I was posted stood a chateau, the property of the
Mayor of Biaritz, for the occupation of which the French had made
during the morning several desperate but unavailing efforts. Towards
it, as soon as the firing began to wax faint, Sir John Hope, attended
by three or four aides-de-camp and a few orderly dragoons, made his
way. He had already mounted to an upper room, for the purpose of
observing from thence the enemy's proceedings; his staff and orderlies
were lounging about the courtyard, and the few skirmishers which lined
the hedge in front were lying down to rest, when a mass of French
infantry, which had formed in a hollow road a little to the left,
dashed forward. The movement was so rapid, and the force employed
so great, that all opposition on the part of the few British troops
then up was overcome; the house was surrounded. Instantly a cry was
raised--"Save the General! save the General!" and a rush was made from
all quarters towards the chateau; but our assistance was unnecessary.
Sir John, seeing what had happened, threw himself upon his horse, and,
at the head of his mounted attendants, charged from the doorway of
the courtyard. He received, indeed, no fewer than three musket-balls
through his hat, and his horse was so severely wounded that its
strength served only to carry him to a place of safety; but the charge
was decisive. Many of the French were sabred, and the little party
escaped; and now the fight was renewed on all sides with desperate
resolution. Again and again the enemy pressed forward to empty the wood
of its defenders and to secure the highroad, but all their efforts
failed; and when the approach of darkness compelled the combatants to
separate, the two armies occupied almost the same ground which belonged
to them respectively when the fighting began.

It were vain for me to attempt any description of the scene which now
took place. So vigorous had been the last attack, and so determined
our resistance, that when daylight disappeared the French and
Allied troops found themselves completely mixed together. Instead
of the roar of musketry, my ears were accordingly saluted by shouts
and exclamations delivered in almost every European tongue. French,
English, German, Dutch, Spaniards, Portuguese--the natives, in short,
of almost every kingdom--were here; and as each called out in his own
language as loud as he could bawl, for the purpose of discovering
his comrades, and giving evidence of his own situation, a jargon was
produced such as no man has probably listened to before, unless we
except the artificers employed long ago in the erection of Babel. So
complete, indeed, was the confusion, that neither the one party nor the
other made the slightest attempt to avail themselves of it for military
purposes. On the contrary, we were each of us heartily glad to get rid
of our troublesome neighbours, and not a littled pleased when order
became so far restored as to permit our taking up a definite position
for the night.

The enemy having gradually collected their scattered battalions,
retired to the hollow way from which they last emerged. On our part
no movement of importance was made, except that the corps to which I
belonged, leaving its original garrison to watch the wood during the
hours of darkness, fell back as far as the green field, or rather
common, where we had left the rest of the brigade. Here, with numbers
considerably diminished, we drew up in line; when, the arms being
piled, we followed the example of our companions, and lighted large
fires, round which men and officers indiscriminately crowded, in groups
more or less numerous, according as each fire was capable of affording
to them warmth.

I do not recollect to have witnessed, during the whole course of my
military career, a warlike spectacle more striking than that which was
now before me. Besides my own corps, three battalions of infantry lay
stretched in a single green field round their watch-fires, amounting
in all to about a hundred. Immediately behind them stood their arms,
piled up in regular order, and glancing in the flames, which threw a
dark-red light across the common upon the bare branches beyond. About
twenty yards in rear, two regiments of cavalry were similarly disposed
of, their horses being picketed in line and the men seated or lying on
the ground. Looking further back, and towards the opposite side of the
road, the fires of the whole of the fifth and first divisions met the
eye, darkened now and again as the soldiers passed between them, or
a heap of wood was cast on to feed their brightness. By the light of
these fires I could farther perceive that the road itself was thronged
with artillery and tumbrils; whilst the glaring atmosphere above the
wood showed that it too was fully tenanted, and that its occupants
were, like ourselves, reposing in an attitude of watchfulness. To
complete the picture, the night chanced to be uncommonly dark. Neither
moon nor stars were out; and though no rain fell, a considerable fog
was in the air, which hindered the flames from ascending beyond a
certain height, and caused them to shed a stronger colouring upon the
surrounding objects. Then the knowledge that the enemy was at hand, and
that we only waited for the dawn of to-morrow to renew the combat; the
whole of these circumstances combined gave so deep an interest to our
situation, that it was long ere I was able to follow the example of
my comrades and lie down. Fatigue, however, at length prevailed over
enthusiasm; and having heartily partaken of the meal which our faithful
Francisco brought up, I wrapped my cloak about me, and taking my
station like the rest with my feet towards the fire, fell fast asleep.

It was still dark when the general stir among the troops put an end to
my repose. The infantry stood to their arms, the cavalry mounted their
horses, the artillerymen were at their guns with lighted matches--all
in the space of a minute, without a word spoken or a trumpet sounded.
Early as it was, however, our fires had all but consumed themselves;
they had become dull and red, and they threw not out heat enough
to keep our blood greatly above the freezing-point; but we bore the
intense cold with exemplary patience, in the full assurance of warm
work as soon as daylight should appear. Nor is there any hour in the
four-and-twenty, as every traveller knows, so fruitful in intense cold
as that which immediately precedes the dawn. Today, too, it chanced
to freeze, with a cutting wind directly in our faces; nevertheless
our courage was high, and we counted the moments impatiently as
they passed, not so much from a sense of our present uncomfortable
situation, as from an eager desire to renew the battle.

Day dawned at length, but the enemy made no movement. They were before
us, as they had been all night, in countless numbers; but, like
ourselves, they stood quietly in their ranks, as if they expected to
be attacked rather than to attack. For nearly two hours both armies
continued stationary, till Lord Wellington coming up ordered three
Portuguese battalions to advance, with no other design than to bring
matters to a crisis. Nor did this movement fail to lead the enemy into
a renewal of offensive operations. The Portuguese brigade was gallantly
met, and, after a good deal of firing, repulsed; and the repulse of it
was followed by a determined assault upon such of our corps as defended
the road and occupied the wood.

Nothing can be more spirited or impetuous than the first attack of
French troops. They come on for a while slowly and in silence, till,
having reached within a hundred yards or two of the point to be
assailed, they raise a loud but discordant yell, and rush forward.
The advance of their column is, moreover, covered by a perfect cloud
of tirailleurs, who press on, apparently in utter confusion, but with
every demonstration of courage; who fire irregularly, it is true, but
with great rapidity and precision; and who are as much at home in the
art of availing themselves of every species of cover as any light
troops in the world. The ardour of the French is, however, admirably
opposed by the coolness and undaunted deportment of Britons. On the
present occasion, for instance, our people met their assailants exactly
as if the whole affair had been a piece of acting, no man quitting his
ground, but each deliberately waiting till the word of command was
given, and then discharging his piece. Every effort of Marshal Soult
to possess himself of the mayor's house, and of the enclosure and
wood about it, accordingly proved fruitless; and hence his formidable
column, which covered the highroad as far as the eye could reach, was
perforce obliged to halt and to remain idle.

Matters continued in this state till towards noon, and yet a
comparatively trifling number of our troops were engaged. The entire
brigade to which I belonged, the brigade of light cavalry, as well as
the greater proportion of the first division, had been mere spectators
of the valour of others; when the enemy, as if worn out with fatigue,
and disheartened by repeated failures, suddenly began to retire. His
column of infantry having moved to the rear, till some rising ground
in a great degree concealed it, seemed to disperse; his guns were
withdrawn; and his skirmishers falling back, left our advanced corps in
possession of the disputed post. A retreat, indeed, appeared to have
begun, and to many it was matter of surprise that no pursuit was on
our side instituted. But our general, by keeping his soldiers steady
in their places, showed that he was quite aware of his adversary's
intentions, and that he was a far better judge of the measures which
it behoved him to adopt than any of the numerous critics who presumed
to pass censure upon him. The whole of this movement was no other than
a manœuvre on the part of the French marshal to draw our troops from
their position, and to enfeeble the centre of our line, by causing the
left to be too far advanced; but, though skilfully executed, it proved
of no avail,--thanks to the superior sagacity of Lord Wellington.
Instead of being harassed by any useless change of ground, we were
commanded to take advantage of the temporary truce by cooking our
dinners--a measure which the long fast of many of the soldiers,
particularly of the Portuguese, who had eaten nothing during the whole
of yesterday, rendered peculiarly desirable.

In a moment numerous fires were again lighted, and half of the men in
each regiment, disencumbering themselves of their accoutrements, set
to work, felling wood, boiling kettles, and preparing food for their
comrades. In the meanwhile, six or eight spring-waggons arriving, such
of the wounded as were unable to crawl to the rear were collected from
the various spots where they lay mingled with the dead, and lifted into
them with as much care as circumstances would permit. It was a sad
spectacle this. The shrieks and groans of many of these poor fellows
sounded horribly in our ears; whilst the absolute silence of the
rest was not less appalling, inasmuch as it gave but too much reason
to believe that they were removed from the field only to die in the
waggons. Nor were the muleteers and other followers of the camp idle.
These harpies, spreading themselves in vast numbers over the face of
the country, stripped and plundered the dead in an incredibly short
space of time; and they were withal so skilful in their vocation that
they rarely afforded an opportunity of detecting them in the act.
Nothing, indeed, has ever astonished me more than the celerity with
which these body-strippers execute their task. A man falls by your
side, and the very next moment, if you chance to look round, he is as
naked as he was when he came into the world, without your being able so
much as to guess by whom his garments have been taken.

Whilst all these persons were engaged in their various occupations, I
wandered towards the front, for the purpose of examining, in a moment
of coolness, the nature of the ground on which we had yesterday fought.
It was well dotted with the carcasses of men and horses. Round the
mayor's house, in particular, they lay in clusters; and not a few of
the Frenchmen bore marks of having fallen by the sabre. One man, in
particular, I observed, whose head was cloven asunder, the sword of his
adversary having fairly divided it as far as the eyes; another lay upon
his back, with his face split into two parts across the line of the
nose. The great majority had, however, been shot; and they were mixed
indiscriminately together, English and French, as if each had been cut
off by the hand of his next neighbour.

I was not, however, so fully occupied in contemplating the dead but
that I cast various anxious glances towards the living; nor was ground
of anxiety wanting. The enemy had, indeed, fallen back; neither did
he show any column upon the road, nor any masses in the woods; but I
observed his men crossing the highway towards our right by twos and
threes at a time, as if some formation were going on which he desired
might escape notice. Nor was the circumstance lost upon my companions.
"We shall have it again presently," said a veteran sergeant who stood
near me; and the prediction was hardly uttered when it was fulfilled.
As if they had risen from beneath the earth, two ponderous masses
of infantry, covered by the fire of twelve pieces of cannon, rushed
forward, one a little to the right of where I was, and the other upon
the church and village of Arcanques; and such was the fury of their
attack, that for the instant they carried everything before them. A
Portuguese corps which occupied the former of those points was broken,
and gave way; a British regiment, stationed to support them, followed
their example: and now, for the first time since the battle began, the
head of a French column showed itself upon the common.

In the meanwhile all was hurry and bustle in the rear. The plunderers,
taking to their heels, fled in all directions; the waggons with the
wounded set off at full speed; our people, casting their half-dressed
provisions into the fire, buckled on their accoutrements, and took
their stations; and the artillery, which had begun to retire, came up
again at a hand-gallop to the front. Two squadrons of cavalry were next
ordered out, partly to stop the fugitives, partly to check a body
of the enemy which at this moment appeared upon the main road; and I
must say that our troopers executed both of these orders with great
effect. Every man whom they met, no matter whether he were an English
or a Portuguese soldier, they drove back, beating him with the flats of
their swords over the head and shoulders; and then, suddenly rushing
past a projecting copse which concealed their motions, they spread
death and dismay among the French infantry. But we had not much time
given to watch the operations of others. We were ourselves in line in a
moment, and advancing to the charge.

It was a tremendous and overwhelming rush. The enemy stood nobly, and
fought with desperate resolution; but we bore them back, as I have seen
one bull borne back by another, into the wood. And then began again
the same ceaseless roar of musketry which had sounded in our ears last
evening; whilst four or five pieces of cannon sent showers of grape and
canister amongst us, which, but for the shelter afforded by the trees,
must have swept us all into eternity.

As soon as we were fairly in the wood, our compact order was, in spite
of every effort, lost. We fought, however, with the same spirit as
before, in detached parties, and pressed the enemy on all hands, who
became as much divided as ourselves, till not only was the ground
recovered which had at first been abandoned, but we were considerably
in advance of our original position. Nor was it practicable even then
to check the ardour of the men. As fast as the enemy retired, our
soldiers pushed on, till at length we found ourselves on the margin of
a little lake, round the extremity of which the French were fleeing in
great confusion. Such a sight added fuel to the fire of our eagerness,
and we pursued in a state of little less confusion than that which
prevailed among the fugitives.

We had already reached the farther end of the lake, and were in hot and
heedless chase of a couple of field-pieces, when a cry was suddenly
raised of "The cavalry! the cavalry!" Several troops of French dragoons
were advancing; their horses were already in speed. There was no time
to collect or form a square, so we threw ourselves as we best could
into compact circles, and stood to receive them. They came on with the
noise of thunder. One circle wavered--some of the men abandoned their
ranks--the cavalry rode through it in an instant. That in which I was
stood more firm. We permitted them to approach till the breasts of the
horses almost touched our bayonets, when a close and well-directed
volley was poured in, and numbers fell beneath it. But we knew that we
had no business to remain where we were. Having therefore repelled
this charge, we slowly retraced our steps, the cavalry hovering round
us as we retired, till we had gained once more the shelter of the wood,
and were safe from farther molestation. There we stood fast, till a
bugle sounding the recall warned us to retire still farther; and we
again united ourselves with the rest of the brigade.

The attack upon our post being thus defeated, we were directed to lie
down in a ditch, for the purpose of sheltering ourselves against a
heavy cannonade with which the enemy still entertained us. A couple of
brigades were at the same time moved towards the right to support the
light division, which had been very sorely pressed in its position of
Arcanques. The French column had come on at a moment when a regiment
which held the church were in the act of cleaning their rifles, and
hence one-half of the troops were virtually unarmed. But though driven
through the village and gardens, our people maintained themselves in
the church, and the rising ground on which it stood; nor did the French
succeed in making any lasting impression on that point. The loss,
however, had on our part been so great, and the enemy still continued
his exertions with so much ardour, that it was deemed requisite to send
fresh regiments to relieve those which had been so long engaged; and
hence five or six battalions were withdrawn from our rear; and the
post which they had hitherto assisted in maintaining was left entirely
to our protection.

Whether it was the intention of Soult to cause this movement, or
whether he only hoped to avail himself of it as soon as it should have
been made, I know not; but just as the bayonets of our detached troops
began to glitter in the wood behind Arcanques, another most determined
charge was made upon the corps in our immediate front. This corps was
not only weak in point of numbers, but worn out with hard fighting
and want of food. It gave way almost immediately. Again the French
were upon us; again we were hotly engaged, and, as it appeared to me,
with a still denser and more numerous division than any which had yet
attacked us. The wood and the mayor's house were now both of them
carried--the French came on with loud shouts and great courage--our
Portuguese allies fairly fled the field--one or two British regiments
were overpowered--and even we, whose ranks had hitherto been preserved,
began to waver, when Lord Wellington himself rode up. The effect was
electrical. "You must keep your ground, my lads," cried he; "there is
nothing behind you. Charge! charge!" Instantly a shout was raised.
Many fugitives who had lost their own corps threw themselves into line
upon our flank. We poured in but one volley, and then rushed on with
the bayonet. The enemy would not stand it; their ranks were broken,
and they fled in utter confusion. We followed, without giving them a
moment to recover from their panic; and having suffered hardly any loss
in killed or wounded, we once more took possession of the chateau and
the thicket. This was the last effort on either side, darkness having
already set in; and hence we found ourselves, for the second time, at
the close of a day of carnage and fatigue, occupying exactly the spot
of ground which we had occupied when the day began. The same wild and
outlandish tumult ensued; men of all countries bawling and hallooing to
each other; and the same arrangements of lighting fires, and lying down
to sleep around them, were entered into by the weary combatants. The
corps to which I belonged was indeed moved about a quarter of a mile to
the right, where the charge of the outposts was committed to it; and
those who had hitherto kept them being called in, were permitted to
repose more securely in the rear. But, with this exception, everything
which had been done during the night before was repeated, and such
as were not actually employed on picket slept soundly beside their
watch-fires.




CHAPTER XIII.


Being loath to interrupt my narrative of the sanguinary operations of
this day, I have omitted to notice an event, perhaps more important
in its general consequences than even the successful resistance of
one British corps to the attack of almost the whole French army. The
reader will no doubt recollect that, at the period of time respecting
which I am now writing, the various states of Germany, which had lain
so long under the French yoke, were beginning once more to assert
their independence--many, indeed, had taken up arms against the common
enemy. The battle of Leipsic had been fought; the Confederation of
the Rhine was dissolved; Holland and the Netherlands were in a great
measure restored to their legitimate sovereign; and all in rear of the
Allied line, extending from Huningen to the Low Countries, was free.
Attached to the army of Marshal Soult were several brigades of German
and Dutch troops, from whom the intelligence of the real state of their
respective countries could not be concealed. Of these, about 4000 men,
through the instrumentality of their commanding officers, had for some
time back been in secret communication with Lord Wellington. All indeed
that was wanting to withdraw them from the ranks of the enemy was a
convenient opportunity to desert; and against this the French general
appeared studiously to strive. One brigade he had already sent to the
rear on suspicion, and he had thrown out various hints that the rest
must speedily follow; nor can it be doubted that these hints would have
been acted upon but for the events of the three last days. The extreme
fatigue of his French battalions compelled him to assign the advanced
station this morning to a corps of Germans, who had no sooner taken up
their ground than they proposed to carry into execution a plan which
their officers had long matured. Collecting their baggage, and carrying
with them their arms, ammunition, and accoutrements, they marched in
regular order within our lines, and were instantly shipped, as they had
previously desired, for their own country. Thus, independently of his
loss in killed and wounded, which, on the most moderate computation,
could not amount to less, during the late operations, than four
thousand men, Soult found his army weakened by the desertion of fifteen
hundred or two thousand veteran soldiers.

The Germans had taken up the ground in our immediate front soon after
dark on the evening of the 10th. They were not then prepared to abandon
the cause of Napoleon; but messengers were sent in that night to warn
our general of what was to take place on the morrow, and to guard
the column of deserters from being fired on by our outposts. All was
fully arranged. Just before the advance of the Portuguese brigade,
which brought on the renewal of hostilities, the German corps began
their march; and being welcomed with cheers by their new allies, who
stood under arms to receive them, that which was to us an animating
spectacle, doubtless spread dismay and bitter chagrin among the ranks
of the enemy. But to return to my own personal narrative.

The night of the 11th was spent, as that of the 10th had been, round
our fires, and in the open air. A supply of beef, biscuit, and rum had,
however, been issued out; and the beef being broiled over the coals,
a substantial supper recruited the strength of those who were really
beginning to faint from inanition. Then the grog being passed round,
and pipes and cigars lighted, we lay not down to sleep till many a rude
joke had been bandied about and many a merry catch chanted. Not that
we were altogether insensible to more grave and melancholy feelings.
Our ranks were a good deal thinned; of our beloved companions many had
fallen; and I speak truly when I say that we lamented their fall, even
in the midst of our mirth. But a state of warfare is productive, and
necessarily so, of more consummate selfishness than any other situation
into which man is liable to be thrown; and hence, except some bosom
friend have perished, such as Grey was to me, and I to him, it must be
confessed that soldiers think less of the dead than of the living. Each
man, indeed, is (shall I own it?) too happy to find himself unscathed,
to waste many fruitless expressions of sorrow upon those whose fate has
been different.

The dawn of the 12th found us, as the dawn of the preceding day had
done, under arms. Just before day broke, the battalion, leaving two
companies to act as skirmishers, fell back to the rear of a thin
hedgerow, for the purpose of keeping an open stubble-field in its
front, in case the enemy should attack. By this means we hoped to throw
in our fire with the better effect as they moved along their coverless
ground; whilst, a clear space lying before us, our charge, which must
of course follow, would be the more decisive. But the enemy gave us no
opportunity of carrying these plans into execution.

The French army was still before us in immense numbers; but it remained
perfectly quiet. Hour after hour elapsed without any movement being
made on either side, till about nine in the morning his column, which
occupied the main road, began to retrograde. An English officer of
artillery seeing this, as if determined that the retreat should not be
altogether bloodless, fired the two guns which he commanded, I believe
without orders. Whether these shots irritated the Marshal, or that
he was anxious to deceive us into a belief of fresh hostilities on
his side, I know not, but they were immediately answered. The column
halted, faced about, and made a show of advancing. The pickets came
on, and a good deal of skirmishing ensued; but no decided attack was
made, though enough was done to keep our attention awake. About noon,
however, even this firing ceased, and a sort of pause in hostilities
ensued.

Let me take advantage of this pause to describe the relative positions
of the two armies, as far at least as my circumscribed opportunities
enabled me to judge of them.

The extreme left of the British, and consequently the extreme right of
the French army, rested upon the sea. Between the highroad and the sea,
however, lay a small lake, measuring perhaps a mile in circumference,
the ground beyond which was so rugged and enclosed that only a few
companies were left to guard it. On that plateau no military operations
took place. Perhaps, then, I may speak more intelligibly if I say that
the left of our army and the right of the enemy rested upon the lake.
The main road, which was one key of our position, ran along the summit
of the high bank above the lake. It was winding, but as nearly level
as high roads generally are. To defend it, a battery of three guns had
been thrown up a little way to the left, where an inclination of the
lake permitted, and where the whole of a long sweep was commanded. On
the right of the road was the mayor's house, with its out-buildings,
gardens, and thick plantations, for the possession of which so much
blood had been shed. So far, however, the ground was perfectly even;
that is to say, neither the French nor we possessed the advantage of an
acclivity, nor could either side boast of superior cover from wood But
about musket-shot from the mayor's house the case was different, and
the general face of the country underwent a change.

In the quarter of which I have last spoken, and where, indeed, my own
corps was this morning stationed, the French and English divisions were
separated from one another by a ravine. The ground occupied by the
enemy was perhaps higher than that on which we stood; but then on our
side we were better supplied with thickets; and had the contrary been
the case, there was ascent sufficient to give a decided advantage to
the defenders over the assailants. In both lines one or two farmhouses
stood conveniently enough as posts of defence; and on the side of the
enemy a wilderness of furze-bushes covered the face of the hill.

This ravine, after running in a straight direction about three or four
hundred yards, wound inwards upon the French hill, so as to place the
church of Arcanques rather in front of our station than the contrary.
That building stood, however, upon a detached eminence. It was
completely surrounded by ravines except in the rear, where it sloped
gradually down into a woody plain. Beyond Arcanques it was not possible
for me to make any accurate observations; but, as far as I could judge,
the country appeared flat, with the same sort of inequalities occurring
in it as those already described. There was, however, a great deal
of wood scattered here and there; and several villages, some in the
possession of the French, others in our possession, could be descried.
On the whole, neither position could be pronounced greatly superior in
natural strength to the other; nor, perhaps, would ours at least have
caught an eye less accurate in these matters than his who selected it
for his winter line.

I have said that a good deal of unconnected firing having been kept up
till about noon, a solemn pause ensued throughout the line. Not that
Marshal Soult had yet resigned all hope of forcing our left, and so
gaining the command of the road by which our supplies were brought
up; but he appeared satisfied that absolute force would not secure
his object, and hence he betook himself to manœuvring. Of the various
changes of ground which now took place among the different divisions of
both armies it is vain for me to attempt any minute description. What
I myself saw, however, may be repeated; though it will convey but a
feeble idea of the magnificent operations of these two mighty gamesters.

We had stood, or rather lain, quietly behind a hedge about half an
hour, when the arrival of a group of horsemen on the brow of the
French hill attracted our attention. It was Soult and his staff. The
Marshal dismounted, leant his telescope over the saddle of his horse,
and swept our line. While he was thus employed, Lord Wellington,
followed by about twenty aides-de-camp and orderlies, rode up. The
glass of our General was instantly turned upon his adversary, and
the two Commanders-in-Chief gazed at each other for several seconds.
Now a mounted Frenchman rode to the rear of his group at full speed;
next Lord Wellington flew, as fast as his horse could gallop, towards
Arcanques; and for about a quarter of an hour all was still.

Soult had departed in the same direction with Lord Wellington; and we
were wondering what was to follow, when the head of a French column
suddenly showed itself on the high ground opposite to Arcanques. An
attack was of course expected, but none took place. As if the two
columns had agreed to reach their ground at the same instant, the enemy
hardly made his appearance ere the wood in rear of Arcanques glittered
with the bayonets of the seventh division. Again Soult showed himself
on the ridge opposite, but a good deal farther to the right, gazing, as
if with deep anxiety, upon the advance of these troops. His plan was
anticipated; and his newly-formed column melted gradually away.

"Where next?" thought I; but no great time was spent in wondering.
The same, or another mass, speedily crowned the hill opposite; and,
at the same moment, two or three brigades of fresh troops were in our
rear. Once more the enemy withdrew. Thus the whole hours of light were
spent, the heads of columns appearing and disappearing at different
points; indeed both armies seemed to be handled as the pieces upon
a chess-board are, when two skilful and tolerably equal players are
opposed. Darkness at length beginning to set in, an end was put to
the manœuvring; and we again made preparations to spend the night as
comfortably as circumstances would permit.

It fell to my lot this evening to mount picket. As soon as the night
set in, I put myself at the head of the body of men which was assigned
to me, and moved down to the bottom of the ravine of which I have
already spoken as dividing the two armies. There our watch-fire was
lighted, and there the main body of the picket took its ground, the
sentinels being posted a little on the rise of the opposite hill. The
French, on the other hand, stationed their outposts on the summit, and
placed their sentries opposite to ours, at a distance of perhaps thirty
paces. Thus each man was at the mercy of the other; but both British
and French sentinels were too well trained in the school of modern
warfare to dream of violating the sanctity which is happily thrown
around them.

It will be readily imagined that this was to me a night of peculiarly
high excitement. My friend Grey was with me; so the time passed
cheerfully enough, but it was wholly sleepless. We took it by turns
to visit our sentries every half-hour, who again were relieved, as
sentinels generally are, each at the expiration of a two hours'
watch; and thus, by going our rounds and examining the state of the
men previous to their proceeding to their posts, all inclination to
repose was dispelled. The privates, indeed, on whose shoulders no
responsibility rested, lay down with their firelocks beside them and
slept; but we sat by our fire, smoking and conversing, whenever an
opportunity of sitting was granted. All, however, passed quietly off.
Except the voices of our own and the enemy's sentries, who challenged
as we approached, no sound could be heard in the front; nor did any
event occur worthy of notice till midnight was long past.

It might be, perhaps, about two in the morning of the 13th, when a
sentinel, whose post I visited, informed me that he had heard a more
than usual stir in the French lines about ten minutes before, and had
seen a blue-light thrown up. "Have any reliefs taken place among them
lately?" said I. "Yes, sir," replied the soldier; "a relief has just
gone now." "We must reconnoitre," rejoined I; and so saying, I stooped
down, and in a creeping attitude approached the enemy's vedettes. One
stood directly before me. Though it was very dark I could distinguish
his cap and firelock; so I crept back again, satisfied that all was
quiet.

In half an hour after I visited the same man. "Has anything occurred
since?" asked I. "No, sir," was the answer; "all is perfectly quiet."
Repeating my experiment, I found the French sentinel still stationary,
and I was again satisfied. The same thing occurred at each successive
visitation, till about four in the morning. At that hour my own
sentinel stated that he had heard no relief since he came on duty,
neither had the man whom he relieved heard any. Upon this I returned
to consult with Grey; when it was agreed between us that a patrol
should go forward and ascertain at once how matters stood. Taking with
me four men, I again crept up the hill. The vedette was still there. We
approached. He continued silent and motionless. We ran up to him. It
was a bush with a soldier's cap placed upon the top of it, and a musket
leaning against it! The enemy were gone. Not a vestige of them remained
except their fires, on which a quantity of fuel had lately been heaped.
Of course we transmitted to the rear, without delay, intelligence of
all that had occurred; when a general recognisance being made along the
front of the whole left, it was found that Soult had withdrawn, and
that he had carried off with him, not only his artillery and baggage,
but all his wounded. We gave him ample credit for the adroitness with
which his retreat had been conducted.




CHAPTER XIV.


For about two hours after daybreak no movement whatever was made on the
left of the army. Parties of cavalry and light infantry were, indeed,
from time to time sent forward, for the purpose of guarding against a
sudden return of the enemy's columns; but the main body kept its ground
as it had done the day before, and the stations of the outposts were
not altered. About nine o'clock in the morning, however, a few changes
occurred. My picket, for example, marched a little to the right, and
relieved a body of Brunswickers, which occupied a farmhouse near the
point where the ravine wound inwards upon the enemy's position; and
this body, together with several other battalions, proceeded at a quick
pace towards the station of General Hill's corps. The indefatigable
Soult, it appeared, had withdrawn his forces from before us, only
to carry them against the opposite flank. The whole of the night of
the 12th was spent in filing his battalions through the intrenched
camp; and by daybreak on the 13th he showed himself in force upon
the right of the army. But Sir Rowland was prepared for him. His own
division kept the enemy in play till reinforcements arrived, when a
decided attack was made; and the French, worn out with the exertions
of the four preceding days, were totally defeated. They escaped, with
difficulty, within their fortified lines, leaving five thousand men
upon the field.

But I must not presume to intrude upon the province of the historian:
let me therefore return to myself and my own little party.

The house of which we now took possession exhibited very unequivocal
symptoms of having been the arena of sundry desperate conflicts.
The walls were everywhere perforated with cannon-shot; the doors
and windows were torn to pieces; a shell or two had fallen through
the roof, and, bursting in the rooms on the ground-floor, had not
only brought the whole of the ceiling down, but had set fire to the
woodwork. The fire had indeed been extinguished, but it left its usual
traces of blackened timbers and charred boarding. Several dead bodies
lay in the various apartments, and the little garden was strewed with
them. These we of course proceeded to bury; but there were numbers
concealed by the bushes on the hillside beyond, on which no sepulture
could be bestowed, and which, as afterwards appeared, were left to
furnish food for the wolves and vultures. Then the smell, which hung
not only about the interior, but the exterior of the cottage, was
shocking. Not that the dead had as yet begun to putrefy; for though
some of them had lain a couple of days exposed to the influence of
the atmosphere, the weather was far too cold to permit the process of
decomposition to commence; but the odour even of an ordinary field of
battle is extremely disagreeable. I can compare it to nothing more
aptly than the interior of a butcher's slaughter-house, soon after he
may have killed his sheep or oxen for the market. Here that species of
perfume was peculiarly powerful; and it was not the less unpleasant
that the smell of burning was mixed with it.

Having remained at this post till sunset, my party was relieved, and
we fell back to join the regiment. We found it huddled into a single
cottage, which stood at one extremity of the green field where we had
halted yesterday, hoping to bring the enemy to the bayonet. Of course
our accommodations were none of the best: officers and men, indeed,
laid themselves down indiscriminately upon the earthen floor, and
heartily glad was he who obtained room enough to stretch himself at
length without being pushed or railed at by his neighbours. The night,
however, passed over in quiet; and sound was the sleep which followed
so many dangers and hardships, especially on the part of us, who had
spent the whole of the preceding night in watchfulness.

Long before dawn on the morning of the 14th, we were, as a matter of
course, under arms. In this situation we remained till the sun arose,
when, marching to the right, we halted at a rising ground in front
of the village of Bedarre, and immediately in rear of the church of
Arcanques. When we set out the sky was cloudy and the air cold, but
no rain had fallen. We had hardly got to our station, however, when a
heavy shower descended, which, but for the opportune arrival of our
tents, would have speedily placed it out of our power to experience
any degree of bodily comfort for the next twenty-four hours. Under
these circumstances, the tents, which a few weeks ago we had regarded
with horror, were now esteemed dwellings fit for princes to inhabit;
whilst the opportunity which their shelter afforded of disencumbering
ourselves of our apparel, was hailed as a real blessing. No man who
has not worn his garments for five or six days on end can conceive the
luxury of undressing; and, above all, the feeling of absolute enjoyment
which follows the pulling off of his boots.

As the rain continued during the whole of the day, little inducement
was held out to wander abroad. On the contrary, I perfectly recollect
that, for the first time in our lives, we succeeded in lighting a fire
in our tent, and escaped the inconvenience of smoke by lying flat upon
the ground, and that the entire day was consumed in eating, drinking,
smoking, conversing, and sleeping. No doubt, my unwarlike readers
will exclaim that the hours thus spent were spent unprofitably; but
I cannot, even now, think so, inasmuch as they were hours of great
enjoyment.

We were not without serious apprehension that circumstances had
occurred which would compel Lord Wellington to keep us during the
remainder of the winter under canvas, when the better half of the day
following had passed over, and no order arrived for our return into
quarters. Nor were these feelings of alarm diminished by witnessing
the march of the whole of the fifth division through our encampment,
confessedly on their way to comfortable cantonments. As the event
proved, however, our apprehensions were groundless, for about an hour
and a half after noon we too received orders; and two o'clock saw our
tents struck, our baggage packed upon the mules, and ourselves in
motion towards the highroad. Of course we flattered ourselves that
we were destined to return to those rural billets which, by dint of
mechanical skill and manual labour, we had made so snug; but there we
were disappointed.

We traversed almost step by step the same ground over which we had
travelled in the course of the late military operations, till we
reached the identical green field in which it had been our lot to
bivouac, with so little comfort, on the 10th of the preceding November.
I believe I have already mentioned--if not, I may state here--that
adjoining to these fields were several farmhouses; one of them, indeed,
of very respectable size and appearance, though the rest hardly rose
above the rank of cottages. In a mansion of the latter description--in
that same mansion, indeed, where I and a host of more active animals
had formerly contended for the possession of a bed--were Grey, myself,
and our men stationed; nor can I say, though the place was certainly
in better plight than when last I saw it, that we were particularly
delighted with our abode.

The room allotted to us was an apartment on the ground-floor. It was
furnished with a fireplace, which had been built by the corps that
preceded us, and among the members of which it was very evident that
there existed no one possessing an equal degree of skill in masonry
with ourselves. It smoked abominably. In the construction of their
window, our predecessors had, however, been more fortunate; their oiled
paper held out against the wind and rain with much obstinacy. But the
quarters were, on the whole, exceedingly comfortless, especially when
contrasted, as it was impossible not to contrast them, with those
which we had so lately fitted up. Nevertheless we were too happy in
finding ourselves once more under shelter of a roof to waste many
repining thoughts upon unavoidable evils; and we had the satisfaction
to know that our abode here would be of no longer continuance than the
duration of the winter, if, indeed, it continued so long.

It is an old and just observation, that the term comfort is one of
relative rather than of direct significance. To the truth of this
saying we were compelled to bear testimony, when, about two o'clock
in the afternoon of the 18th, we found ourselves once more in line of
march, and advancing to the front, for the purpose of relieving another
brigade in the outpost duty. Everybody who is old enough recollects, I
daresay, the severity of the winter of 1813-14. Even in the south of
France, the frost was at times so intense as to cast a complete coat of
ice over ponds and lakes of very considerable depth; whilst storms of
cold wind and rain occurred at every interval when the frost departed.
The 18th of December chanced to be one of these wet and windy days, and
hence we could not help acknowledging, when we found ourselves once
more exposed to the "pelting of the pitiless storm," that our chamber,
on the disagreeables of which we had dilated with characteristic
minuteness, was, after all, an abode by no means to be despised.

The corps employed in guarding the front of the left column consisted
of a brigade of three battalions--in other words, of about eighteen
hundred men. Of these, six hundred were appointed to furnish the
pickets; whilst the remaining twelve hundred acted as a support in case
of need, and busied themselves till the hour of need should arrive in
fortifying their post. The ground on which our tents stood was the
identical green field where, during the late action, we had bivouacked
for two successive nights; and our working parties were employed in
felling the wood round the mayor's house, in throwing up breastworks
contiguous to it, and in constructing a square redoubt capable of
holding an entire battalion. The redoubt was named after a daughter
of the worthy magistrate, who resided for the present in the little
town of Biaritz, and had already declared himself a partisan of the
Bourbons. It was called Fort Charlotte, and gave rise to as many puns
as are usually produced by the appearance of a tongue or a dish of
brains at a Cockney's table; nor was any one more parturient of such
puns than the father of the young lady himself. Between this gentleman
and the officer commanding the outposts, a constant intercourse
was kept up. The town of Biaritz, where he dwelt, lying upon the
sea-shore, and out of the direct line of operations, was not occupied
either by the French or Allied troops. It constituted, on the contrary,
a sort of neutral territory, which was visited occasionally by patrols
from both armies; but so far retained its independence that its
inhabitants were in the constant practice of carrying their commodities
for sale, not only to our camp, but to the camp of the enemy. Though
the mayor professed to keep up no such species of traffic, the state of
his property, overrun by the invading force, furnished him also with a
legitimate excuse for occasionally looking after its preservation; and
hence he contrived from time to time to make his appearance amongst us,
without becoming, as far as I could learn, an object of suspicion to
his countrymen.

As the duty on which we were now employed was by no means agreeable,
and as any very lengthened exposure to the inclemency of such a season
must have proved detrimental to the health of those engaged in it, the
custom was to relieve the advanced corps at the end of three days, by
which means each brigade, at least in the left column of the army,
found itself in the field, and under canvas, only once in three weeks.
That to which I was attached held what may be termed the stationary
outposts only four times during the entire winter; nor have I any
reason to believe that we were in this respect peculiarly favoured. Of
the events which took place during our present interval of more active
service, it is needless to enter into any minute detail. They were
such as generally occur on like occasions: that is to say, our time
was passed in alternate watching and labour; whilst an uninterrupted
continuance of cold and stormy weather rendered the arrival of the
troops destined to succeed us highly acceptable. Nor was this temporary
endurance of hardship and fatigue without its good effect. We learned
from it to lay aside what yet remained to us of fastidiousness; and
returned to our quarters perfectly reconciled to those inconveniences
and drawbacks which existed more perhaps in our imagination than in
reality.

I should try, beyond all endurance, the patience of my reader, were I
to relate in regular detail the occurrences of each day from the 21st
of December 1813, when we returned to our cantonments, to the 2d of
January 1814, when we again quitted them. Enough is done when I state
in few words that the ordinary resources against _ennui_--that is to
say, shooting, coursing, and even fishing--were adopted; and that the
evenings were spent, for the most part, in convivial parties, to the
inordinate consumption of cigars, wine, and sometimes of patience. Nor
were other and more rational employments wanting. On more than one
occasion I visited St Jean de Luz, attended high mass, and the theatre;
and once I rode as far to the rear as Irun. The effect of the latter
ride upon myself was vivid at the time, and may, perhaps, be worth
conveying to others.

The distance from our present cantonments to Irun might amount to
sixteen or eighteen miles. Over the whole of that country, between the
two extreme points, the tide of war, it will be recollected, had swept;
not boisterously, but with comparative harmlessness--as when one army
rapidly retreats and another rapidly follows--but slowly and ruinously;
every foot of ground having been obstinately contested, and every
fold, garden, and dwelling exposed to the ravages inseparable from the
progress of hostilities. Hence the spectacle which met the traveller's
gaze on either side of the road was distressing in the extreme.
The houses and hovels were everywhere in ruins; the enclosures and
cultivated fields were all laid waste and desolate; the road itself was
strewed with the carcasses of oxen, mules, horses, and other animals,
which had dropped down from fatigue, and died upon their march. I was
particularly struck with the aspect of things in and about Urogne. Of
the works on the heights above it, so carefully and skilfully erected
by Marshal Soult, some had already begun to yield to the destructive
operation of the elements, and others had been wantonly demolished
by the followers of the camp. In the town itself, where so lately was
heard the roar of cannon and the rattle of musketry, the most perfect
silence prevailed. It was wholly tenantless; not even a sutler or
muleteer had taken up his abode there; the cavalry were all withdrawn;
and of the original inhabitants not one had returned. The reader will
easily believe that I looked round, during this part of my journey,
with peculiar interest, for the fields across which I had myself
skirmished; more especially for a friendly hedge, the intervention of a
stout stake in which had saved my better arm; and that I did not pass
the churchyard without dismounting to pay a visit to the grave of my
former comrades. Neither was I unmindful of the chateau in which, to my
no small surprise, I had found a letter from my father; and the change
wrought in it since last I beheld it gave me a more perfect idea of the
disastrous effects of war than any other object upon which I had yet
looked.

When a man of peaceable habits--one, for example, who has spent his
whole life in this favoured country under the shelter of his own sacred
roof--reads of war, and the miseries attendant upon war, his thoughts
invariably turn to scenes of outrage and rapine, in which soldiers
are the actors, and to which the hurry and excitement of battle give
rise. I mean not to say that a battle is ever fought without bringing
havoc upon the face of that particular spot of earth which chances to
support it; but the mischief done by both contending armies to the
buildings and property of the inhabitants is as nothing when compared
to that which the followers of a successful army work. These wretches
tread in the steps of the armed force with the fidelity and haste of
kites and vultures. No sooner is a battle won and the troops pushed
forward, than they spread themselves over the entire territory gained;
and all which had been spared by those in whom an act of plunder, if
excusable at all, might most readily be excused, is immediately laid
waste. The chateau of which I am speaking, for example, and which I had
left perfectly entire, fully furnished, and in good order, was now one
heap of ruins. Not a chair or a table remained; not a volume of all the
library so lately examined by me existed; nay, it was evident from the
blackened state of the walls, and the dilapidation of the ceilings,
that fire had been wantonly applied to complete the devastation which
avarice had begun. To say the truth, I could not but regret at the
moment that I had not helped myself to a little more of Monsieur
Briguette's property than the Spanish Grammar already advertised for
redemption.

Having cleared Urogne, and passed through the remains of the barricade
which I had assisted in carrying on the 10th of the last month, I
arrived next at the site of the village of which I have formerly taken
notice, as being peopled and furnished with shops and other places
of accommodation, by sutlers and adventurers. The huts or cottages
still stood, though they were all unroofed, and many of them otherwise
in ruins; but the sign of the "Jolly Soldier" was gone. Like other
incitements to folly, if not to absolute vice, it had followed the
track of the multitude. I marked, too, as I proceeded, the bleak
hillside on which our tents had so long contended with the winds of
heaven; and I could not help thinking how many of those who had found
shelter beneath their canvas, were now sleeping upon the bosom of
mother earth. Of course I paid to their memories the tribute of a
regret as unavailing as I fear it was transitory.

By-and-by I reached the brow of the last height on the French border,
and the Bidassoa once more lay beneath me. The day on which my present
excursion was made chanced to be one of the few lovely days with which,
during that severe winter, we were favoured. The air was frosty, but
not intensely so; the sky was blue and cloudless; and the sun shone
out with a degree of warmth which cheered without producing languor
or weariness. High up, the mountains which overhang the river were
covered with snow, which sparkled in the sunbeams, and contrasted
beautifully with the sombre hue of the leafless groves beneath; whilst
the stream itself flowed on as brightly and placidly as if it had never
witnessed a more desperate struggle than that which the fisherman
maintains with a trout of extraordinary agility and dimensions. Fain
would I have persuaded myself that I was quietly travelling in a land
of peace; but there were too many proofs of the contrary presented at
every stage to permit the delusion to keep itself for one moment in the
mind.




CHAPTER XV.


The stone bridge which used to connect the two banks of the Bidassoa,
and which the French, after their evacuation of the Spanish territory,
had destroyed, was not, I found, repaired; but a temporary bridge of
pontoons rendered the stream passable without subjecting the traveller
to the necessity of fording. A party of artificers were, moreover,
at work renewing the arches which had been broken down; and a new
_tête-de-pont_ on the opposite side from the old one was already
erected, to be turned to account in case of any unlooked-for reverse of
fortune, and consequent retreat beyond the frontier. I observed, too,
that the whole front of the pass beyond the river was blocked up with
redoubts, batteries, and breastworks; and that Lord Wellington, though
pressing forward with victory in his train, was not unmindful of the
fickleness of the blind goddess.

As I was crossing the pontoon-bridge, two objects, very different
in kind, but intimately connected the one with the other, attracted
my attention almost at the same moment. A body of Spanish cavalry,
which appeared to have passed the river at one of the fords a little
higher up, presented themselves winding along a steep by-path which
communicated with the highroad just beside the old _tête-de-pont_. They
were guerillas, and were consequently clothed, armed, and mounted in a
manner the least uniform that can well be imagined. Of the men, some
were arrayed in green jackets, with slouched hats and long feathers;
others in blue, helmeted like our yeomanry or artillery-drivers;
several wore cuirasses and brazen headpieces, such as they had probably
plundered from their slaughtered enemies. But, notwithstanding this
absence of uniformity in dress, the general appearance of these
troopers was exceedingly imposing. They were, on the whole, well
mounted; and they marched in that sort of loose and independent
manner which, without indicating the existence of any discipline
amongst them, bespoke no want of self-confidence in individuals. Their
whole appearance, indeed--for they could not exceed sixty or eighty
men--reminded me forcibly of a troop of bandits; and the resemblance
was not the less striking that they moved to the sound, not of trumpets
or other martial music, but of their own voices. They were singing a
wild air as they passed, in which sometimes one chanted by himself,
then two or three chimed in, and by-and-by the whole squadron joined in
a very musical and spirited chorus.

The other object which divided my attention with these bold-looking but
lawless warriors, was about half-a-dozen dead bodies, which the flow
of the tide brought at this moment in contact with the pontoons. They
were quite naked, bleached perfectly white, and so far had yielded to
the operation of decay that they floated like linen rags on the surface
of the water. Perhaps these were some of our own men who had fallen
in the passage of the river upwards of eight weeks ago; perhaps they
were the bodies of such of the French soldiers as had perished in their
retreat after one of Soult's desperate but fruitless efforts to relieve
the garrison of St Sebastian. Who or what they were I had no means of
ascertaining, nor was it of much consequence: to whatever nation they
might have once belonged, they were now food for the fishes; and to the
fishes they were left, no one dreaming that it was requisite to pull
them to land, or to rob one set of reptiles of their prey only to feed
another.

Such is a summary of the events that befell me in a morning's ride
from the cantonments at Gauthory to the town of Irun. After crossing
the river my progress was direct and of little interest. I journeyed,
indeed, amid scenes all of them familiar, and therefore in some degree
having a claim upon my own notice; but I neither saw nor met with any
object worth describing to my reader. It was a little past the hour of
noon when my horse's hoofs clanked upon the pavement of Irun.

I found that place just recovering from the bustle which the departure
of a corps of twenty thousand Spanish infantry may be supposed to have
produced. This vast body of men had, it appeared, behaved so badly in
the action of the 9th of November that Lord Wellington was induced to
order them to the rear in disgrace; and they had remained in quarters,
in Irun and the neighbourhood, till the day preceding my arrival, when
they were again permitted to join the army. By whom they were commanded
on the day of their shame I have totally forgotten; nor will I cast a
slur upon the reputation of any general officer by naming one at random.

Notwithstanding the departure of so great a multitude, I found the
place far from deserted either by military or civil inhabitants. A
garrison of two or three thousand soldiers was still there--a corps,
I believe, of militia or national guards; and few of the houses were
unoccupied, though whether by their rightful owners or not I take it
not upon me to determine. One thing, however, I perfectly recollect;
and that is, the extreme incivility and absence of all hospitality
which distinguished them. Whether it was that the troops, so long
quartered among them, had inspired them with their own dislike to my
countrymen, or whether that jealousy which the Spanish people have
always encouraged, and still encourage, of foreigners in general and
Englishmen in particular, was at work, I cannot tell; but I remember
that I had some difficulty in persuading the keeper of an inn to put
up my own and my servant's horses in his stable, and still greater in
prevailing upon him to dress an omelet for my dinner. Nor was this all:
my journey had been undertaken, not from curiosity alone, but in the
hope of laying in a stock of coffee, cheese, tea, &c., at a cheap rate.
But every effort to obtain these things was fruitless, the shopkeepers
sulkily refusing to deal with me except on the most exorbitant terms.
I was not sorry, under such circumstances, when, having finished my
omelet, and baited and rested my horses, I turned my back upon Irun,
and took once more a direction towards the front.

I would lay before my readers a detail of another excursion, executed
on Christmas-day, to St Jean de Luz, were I not fully aware that
there are few among them who are not as well acquainted as myself
with the circumstances attending the celebration of that festival in
a Roman Catholic country. On the present occasion all things were
done with as much pomp and show as the state of the city, filled with
hostile battalions, and more than half deserted by its inhabitants
and priesthood, would permit. For my own part, I viewed the whole
proceeding, not with levity, certainly, but as certainly without
devotion; because the entire scene appeared to me better calculated
to amuse the external senses and dazzle the imagination, than to stir
up the deeper and more rational sensations of piety. I returned home,
nevertheless, well pleased with the mode in which the morning had been
spent; and joining a party of some ten or twelve who had clubbed their
rations for the sake of setting forth a piece of roast-beef worthy of
the occasion, I passed my evening not less agreeably than I had spent
the morning.

Among other events that befell during our sojourn at Gauthory, a
sale of the effects of such of our brother officers as had fallen
in the late battles, deserves to be numbered. On such occasions the
sergeant-major generally acts the part of auctioneer, and a strange
compound of good and bad feeling accompanies the progress of the
auction. In every society of men some will be found whose thoughts,
centring entirely in self, regard all things as commendable, or the
reverse, solely as it increases or restricts their personal enjoyments.
Even the sale of the clothes and accoutrements of one who, but a few
weeks or days before, was their living and perhaps favourite companion,
furnishes to such food for mirth; and I am sorry to say that during the
sale of which I now speak more laughter was heard than redounded to the
credit of those who joined in or produced it. Nor do I pretend, while
thus censuring others, to screen myself; for I fear that few laughed
more heartily than I, when shirts with nine tails, or no tails at all,
were held up against the sun by the facetious auctioneer; and sundry
pairs of trousers were pressed upon our notice as adapted for summer
wear, inasmuch as their numerous apertures promised to admit a free
current of air to cool the blood. But, with one or two exceptions, I
must say that there was not a man present who thought of the former
owners of these tailless shirts without affection, and who would not
have willingly given the full value, ay, even of the shirts themselves,
could his expenditure of such a sum have redeemed them from the power
of the grave. This sale, however, acted as a sort of warning to me.
Though my wardrobe was in as good condition as that of most men, I
chose not to have it or its owner made the subject of a joke; so I
inserted among my few memoranda a request that no article of mine
should be put up to auction, but that all should be given, in case I
fell, as expressly appointed.

I have said that the usual means of defeating _ennui_--namely,
shooting, coursing, and fishing--were resorted to by Grey and myself
while we inhabited these cantonments. Among other experiments, we
strolled down one lovely morning towards the sea, with the hope of
catching some fish for dinner. In that hope we were disappointed; but
the exquisite beauty of the marine view to which our walk introduced
us, amply made amends for the absence of sport. It was one of those
soft and enervating days which, even in England, we sometimes meet
with during the latter weeks of December, and which in the south
of France are very frequent at that season. The sun was shining
brightly and warmly; not a breath of air was astir; and the only sound
distinguishable by us who stood on the summit of the cliff was the
gentle and unceasing murmur of tiny waves, as they threw themselves
upon the shingle. The extent of waters upon which we gazed was bounded
on the right by the headlands at the mouth of the Adour, and on the
left by those near Passages. Before us the waste seemed interminable;
and I am not sure that it was the less sublime, because not a boat or
vessel of any description could be descried upon it. At such moments
as these, when contemplating such a scene, it is hardly possible for
any man to hinder his thoughts from wandering away from the objects
immediately around him to I do not recollect any hour of my life during
which the thought of home came more powerfully across me than the
present. Perhaps, indeed, the season of the year had some effect in
producing this result. It was the season of mirth and festivity, of
licensed uproar and innocent irregularity; and cold the land of his
nativity and the home of his fathers. I do not recollect any hour of
my life during which the thought of home came more powerfully across
me than the present. Perhaps, indeed, the season of the year had
some effect in producing this result. It was the season of mirth and
festivity, of licensed uproar and innocent irregularity; and cold and
heartless must he be who remembers not his home, however far removed
from him, when that season comes round. I confess that the idea of mine
brought something like moisture into my eyes, of which I had then no
cause to be ashamed, and the remembrance of which produces in me no
sense of shame even now.

The walk towards the sea became from this time my favourite; but it
was not my only one. Attended by my faithful spaniel (an animal, by
the way, which never deserted me even in battle), I wandered with a
gun across my shoulder over a great extent of country, and in all
directions. I found the scenery beautiful, but far less so than I
had expected to find it in the south of France. There was no want of
wood, it is true; and corn-fields, or rather fields lying fallow, were
intermixed in fair proportion with green meadows and sloping downs.
But there was nothing striking or romantic anywhere, except in the
bold boundary of the Pyrenees, now twenty miles distant. I observed,
however, that there was no want of chateaux and gentlemen's seats.
These were scattered about in considerable numbers, as if this had been
a favourite resort of those few among the French gentry who prefer the
quiet of the country to the bustle and hurry of Paris. Some of these
chateaux were, moreover, exceedingly elegant in their appearance--a
circumstance which, when connected with their size and the extent of
the woods about them, led to a persuasion that they belonged to men
of higher rank than the Mayor of Biaritz. But in general they were of
a description which bespoke their owners as belonging to the class
of wealthy merchants who supported their town houses and warerooms
in Bayonne, or perhaps in Bourdeaux. All, however, were thoroughly
ransacked. Over them, as well as over the houses in our rear, the storm
of rapine had passed, leaving its usual traces of dilapidation and ruin
behind.

It is needless to continue a narrative of such events. Thus passed
several weeks, the business of one day resembling in almost every
respect the business of another. As often as the weather would permit
I made a point of living out of doors; when the contrary was the case,
I adopted the ordinary expedients to kill time within. Nor were we
all this while without a few occurrences calculated to hinder us from
forgetting that we really were in an enemy's country, and at the seat
of war. The bloody flag was more than once hoisted on the tower of the
church of Arcanques, as a signal that the French troops were in motion;
and we, in our turn, stood to our arms. But of such alarms almost all
proved to be groundless; and those which were not designedly so might
as well have been omitted. The fact was that Soult, having been called
upon at this time to detach some divisions of his veteran soldiers
to the assistance of Napoleon, already hard pressed by the Allies in
the north, was under the necessity of filling his ranks with all the
men, and even boys, that were not absolutely required to cultivate
the soil. The entire winter was accordingly spent by him in training
the conscripts to the use of arms. He marched and countermarched them
from place to place, that they might learn to move with celerity and
in order; he set up targets for them to fire at, and caused frequent
alarms to our pickets when teaching his recruits to take a correct aim:
he was, in short, now, as he always was, indefatigable in providing
for the defence of the country committed to his care, and in his
endeavours to make the most of a force assuredly not adequate to the
purpose. But we were not doomed to be continually the dupes of false
alarms, nor to be amused for ever with the issuing of orders, which
were scarcely received ere they were retracted. A necessity for a real
movement occurred at last, and we bade adieu for ever to the cottage
of Gauthory, which we first entered with regret, and finally quitted
without reluctance.




CHAPTER XVI.


It might be about six or seven o'clock in the morning of the 3d of
January 1814, when an orderly sergeant burst into our chamber and
desired us to get the men under arms without delay, for that the enemy
were in motion. In an instant we sprang from our beds, dressed and
accoutred forthwith, ordered the trumpeter to sound the "assembly," and
our servants to prepare breakfast. The last of these injunctions was
obeyed in an incredibly short space of time, insomuch that whilst the
troops were hurrying to their stations we were devouring our morning's
repast; and, in little more than a quarter of an hour from the first
signal of alarm, the regiment was formed in marching order upon the
highroad. Nor were many moments wasted in that situation. The word was
given to advance, and we again pressed forward towards the mayor's
house.

When we reached the post or common, of which so much notice has
elsewhere been taken, we found, indeed, that the whole of the left
column was moving, but that the old battle-ground about the chateau,
and in the woods and enclosures near it, was left entirely to the
protection of the ordinary pickets. Of the enemy's forces, not a single
battalion showed itself here; and our own were all filing towards the
right--a route into which we also quickly struck, as if following the
natural current of the stream of war. In this journey we passed over a
good deal of ground which was already familiar to us, skirting the brow
of the ravine which had separated the hostile armies during the pauses
in their late contest, till, having reached the meadow where our camp
had formerly been pitched, we were turned into a new direction, and
led upwards till we gained the top of the hill on which the church of
Arcanques stands, and round the base of which the village of Arcanques
is scattered. In the maintenance of this post we relieved a section of
the light division, which immediately took a rightward course--thus
indicating that the strength of the army would be mustered at one
extremity, and other points of the line left to the protection of a few
scattered brigades.

It was evening before we reached our ground, and as yet no provisions
were issued out to us. Of course, our appetites were excellent; indeed,
the appetites of men who have nothing to eat are seldom sickly; and
this we amply demonstrated as soon as an opportunity of proving the
fact was offered. Little time, however, was given for the enjoyment of
social intercourse or bodily rest; for we had hardly swallowed a hasty
meal when the better half of the corps was sent forward to occupy a few
cottages in front of the village; and the remainder of the night was
spent in that state of excitement and anxiety which necessarily waits
upon such as form the outposts or advanced-guard of an army.

My own station this night was not exactly at one of the most forward
posts, but in a ruinous building at the outskirts of the village, where
I was placed with a body of men to support the pickets. The thing into
which we were ushered had, no doubt, once upon a time, been a habitable
mansion: at present it consisted of little else than the shell, and
a very wretched shell, of a farmhouse. Not only were the doors and
windows gone, but the ceilings and partitions which used to divide one
apartment from another were all broken down; the roof was in a great
measure stripped off, and the fragments which remained of it were
perforated in all directions. The night was piercingly cold. The frost
had of late set in with renewed severity; and a sharp northerly wind
blowing, swept with a melancholy sound through our dilapidated mansion.
But we were on little ceremony here. Large fires were lighted in
different places upon the earthen floor, round which we crept; and an
allowance of grog being brought up, and pipes and cigars lighted, we
were soon as merry and light-hearted as men could desire to be. It is
true that at intervals--every half-hour, for example--a party of six or
eight of us sallied forth, to patrol from picket to picket, and to see
that all was right between; but we returned from such excursions with
increased predilection for our fire-side; and the events of the ramble,
be they what they might, furnished food for conversation till another
was deemed necessary.

So passed the night of the 3d; and on the morning of the 4th I
expected, as an ordinary matter, to be relieved, and to be withdrawn
to the rear; but it was not so. Men, it appeared, were scarce at this
part of the line; and hence those who formed it were called upon to
perform double duty. Instead of being removed to some place where a
sound night's rest might be enjoyed, I and my party found ourselves, on
the morning of the 4th, ordered to advance, and to occupy the foremost
chain--from which we had the satisfaction of beholding the enemy, in
very considerable strength, at the distance of little more than a
quarter of a mile from our sentries. This sight, however, only gave a
spur to our exertions, and hindered us from repining at what we might
have been otherwise tempted to consider as an undue exercise of our
powers of watchfulness.

The particular picket of which I was put in command happened to be
detached from all others, and to be nearly half a mile in front of the
rest. It occupied a sort of sugar-loaf hill, separated from our own
regular chain of posts by a deep and rugged glen, and kept apart from
the French lines only by an imaginary boundary of hedges and paling.
So exposed, indeed, was the spot, that I received orders to abandon
it as soon as darkness set in, and to retire across the hollow to the
high grounds opposite. The reader will easily believe that, in such a
situation, little leisure was given for relaxation either of body or
mind. During the entire day, my occupation consisted in prying closely,
with the aid of a telescope, into the enemy's lines, in considering how
I could best maintain myself in case of an attack, and retreat most
securely in case I should be overpowered.

The view from my picket-house was, however, extremely animating.
Beneath me, at the distance of only two fields, lay the French
outposts; about a quarter of a mile, or half a mile, in rear of which
were encamped several large bodies both of infantry and cavalry. Of
these, it was evident that vast numbers were recruits. They were at
drill, marching and countermarching, and performing various evolutions
during the greater part of the day--a circumstance which at first
excited some uneasiness on my part, inasmuch as I expected every
moment that my post would be disturbed; but as soon as I saw a target
erected, and the troops practising with ball, I became easy. "There
will be no attack to-day," thought I, "otherwise so much ammunition
would not be wasted."

I had scarcely said so when I observed a mounted officer advancing from
the enemy's camp towards the base of the hill which my party held.
He was followed by a cloud of people in apparent confusion, but not
more confused than French skirmishers generally appear to be, who lay
down behind the hedges in the immediate front of my sentinels, as if
waiting for an order to fire and rush on. I had just ordered my people
under arms, and was proceeding towards the sentries for the purpose
of giving a few necessary directions, when the French officer halted,
and a trumpeter who accompanied him sounded a parley. I descended the
hill immediately, and causing my trumpeter to answer the signal, the
Frenchman advanced. He was the bearer of letters from such British
officers and soldiers as had been taken in the late actions; and
he likewise handed over to me several sums of money and changes of
clothing for some of his countrymen who had fallen into our hands.

This being done, we naturally entered into conversation touching the
state of Europe and the events of the war. My new acquaintance utterly
denied the truth of Napoleon's reverses, and seemed to doubt the idea
of an invasion of France by the armies of the north. He assured me that
the whole country was in arms; that every peasant had become a soldier;
that bands of partisans were forming on all sides of us; and that it
was vain to hope that we should ever pass the Adour, or proceed farther
within the sacred territory. He spoke of the desertion of the German
corps with a degree of bitter contempt, which proved--the reverse
of what he was desirous of proving--that the event had shaken the
confidence of Soult in his auxiliaries; and, above all, he affected to
regard the whole of the recent operations as mere affairs, or trifling
contests of detachments, in no way capable of influencing the final
issues of the war. Yet he was not displeased when I laughed at his
style of oratory; and, after gasconading a good deal, both the one and
the other, we shook hands, and parted the best friends imaginable.

I had hardly quitted him, at least I had not reached my station on the
top of the hill, when I heard myself called by one of the sentinels,
and turned round. I saw the individual with whom I had been conversing
sitting in the midst of a little group of French officers, and watching
the progress of an old woman who was coming towards our lines. She
held a large bottle in her hand, which she lifted up to attract my
notice, and continued to move forward, gabbling loudly all the while.
Obeying her signal, I returned and met her a few yards in front of the
sentries, when she delivered to me about a couple of quarts of brandy,
as a present from the French officers, who had desired her to say,
that if I could spare them a little tea in exchange, they would feel
obliged. It so happened that I had brought no such luxury to my post.
Of this I informed the female mercury; but desired her to offer my best
acknowledgments to her employers, and to add that I had sent to the
rear in order to procure it. With this message she departed, having
promised to keep in sight for at least half an hour, and to return as
soon as I should make a sign that the tea had arrived.

My bugler made good speed, and soon returned with about a quarter of a
pound of black tea, the half of the stock which remained in my canteen.
In the meanwhile the French officers continued sitting together, and
all rose when I waved my cap to their carrier. The old lady was not
remiss in taking the hint. I handed over to her the little parcel,
with numerous apologies for its tenuity, and had the satisfaction to
perceive that, trifling as it was, it proved acceptable. The party
pulled off their hats as an acknowledgment--I did the same; and we each
departed to our respective stations.

There is something extremely agreeable in carrying on hostilities
after this fashion; yet the matter may be pushed too far. Towards the
close of the war, indeed, so good an understanding prevailed between
the outposts of the two armies that Lord Wellington found it necessary
to forbid all communication whatever; nor will the reader wonder at
this when I state to him the reason. A field-officer (I shall not say
in what part of the line), going his rounds one night, found that the
whole of a sergeant's picket-guard had disappeared. He was, of course,
both alarmed and surprised at the occurrence; but his alarm gave place
to absolute astonishment when, on stealing forward to observe whether
there was any movement in the enemy's lines, he peeped into a cottage
from which a noise of revelry was proceeding, and beheld the party
sitting in the most sociable manner with a similar party of Frenchmen,
and carousing jovially. As soon as he showed himself his own men rose,
and wishing their companions good night, returned with the greatest
_sang froid_ to their post. It is, however, but justice to add, that
the sentinels on both sides faithfully kept their ground, and that no
intention of deserting existed on either part. In fact, it was a sort
of custom, the French and British guards visiting each other by turns.

At the period of which I have spoken above, however, no such
extraordinary intimacy had begun. As yet we were merely civil towards
one another; and even that degree of civility was for a while
interrupted, in consequence of the surprisal of a French post by a
detachment from General Beresford's division on the river Nive. Not
that the picket was wantonly cut off, or that any blame could possibly
attach to the general who ordered the proceeding. The outpost in
question occupied a hill upon the allied bank of the stream. It was
completely insulated and detached from all other French posts, and
appeared to be held as much out of perverseness as because it commanded
to a great extent a view of the British lines. Lord Beresford had
repeatedly despatched flags of truce to request that the picket might
be withdrawn, expressing great unwillingness to violate the sacred
character which had been tacitly conferred upon the pickets; but Soult
was deaf to his entreaties, and replied to his threats only by daring
him to carry them into execution. A party was accordingly ordered out,
one stormy night, to cut off the guard; and so successful was the
attempt, that an officer and thirty soldiers, with a midshipman and a
few seamen, who had charge of the boat by which the reliefs were daily
ferried over, were taken. Not a shot was fired. The French, trusting
to the storm for protection, had called in their vedettes, leaving
only one on duty at the door of the house; and he found his arms
pinioned, and himself secured, ere the roar of the tempest permitted
him to detect the sound of approaching steps. The unfortunate subaltern
who commanded sent in a few days afterwards for his baggage; but the
reply was, that the general would forward him a halter, as the only
indulgence which he merited.

But to return to my own personal narrative. After the adventure of the
tea, nothing particular occurred so long as I continued in charge of
the post. As soon as darkness set fairly in, I proposed, in obedience
to my orders, to withdraw; and I carried the design into effect without
any molestation on the part of the enemy. It was, however, their custom
to take possession of the hill as soon as the British troops abandoned
it; and hence I had not proceeded above half-way across the ravine when
I heard the voices of a French detachment, which must have marched
into the courtyard of the house almost at the moment that I and my
men marched out of it. But they made no attempt to annoy us, and we
rejoined the corps from which we had been detached in perfect safety.

The next day was spent in a state of rest in the chateau of Arcanques.
It is a fine old pile, and stands at the foot of the little eminence on
which the church is built. Like many mansions in England of the date
of Queen Elizabeth or Henry VIII., it is surrounded by a high wall,
within which is a paved court leading up to the main entrance. But it
too, like all the buildings near, bore ample testimony to the merciless
operation of war in its crumbling masonry and blackened timbers. There
was a grove of venerable old firs round it, from which all the late
firing had not entirely expelled the rooks.

Of the church I have a less perfect recollection. I remember, indeed,
that its situation was highly striking, and that the view from the
churchyard was of no ordinary beauty. I recollect, likewise, several
statues of knights and ladies reposing in niches round the walls--some
with the cross upon their shields, and their legs laid athwart, to
show that they had served in Palestine; others in the more ancient
costume of chain armour; but whether they were worthy of admiration as
specimens of the art of sculpture, I cannot now take it upon me to say.
I remarked, however, that the devices on the shields of most of these
warriors, and the crests upon their helmets, resembled the coat and
crest which were emblazoned over the gateway of the chateau; and hence
I concluded that they were the effigies of the former lords of the
castle, and that the family which owned it must have been at one period
of some consequence.

It was not, however, exclusively in examining these buildings that I
found amusement for my hours of idleness. From the churchyard, as I
have already stated, the view is at all times magnificent, and it was
rendered doubly so to-day by the movements of our army. The tide of war
seemed to have taken a sudden turn; and the numerous corps which had
so lately defiled towards the right could now be seen retracing their
steps, and filing towards the left. It was a magnificent spectacle.
From the high ground on which I stood, I could see very nearly to
the two extreme points of the position; and the effect produced by
the marching of nearly 120,000 men may be more easily imagined than
described. The roads of communication ran, for the most part, in the
rear of Arcanques. They were all crowded--cavalry, infantry, and
artillery were moving; some columns marched in echelon; others paused
from time to time as if to watch some object in their front; whilst a
grove or wood would now and again receive an armed mass into its bosom,
and then seem to be on fire, from the flashing of the sun against the
bayonets. Happily for me, it was a day of bright sunshine, consequently
every object appeared to great advantage; nor, I suspect, have many
of our oldest soldiers beheld a more striking panorama than the
combination of the objects around me this day produced.

I stood and watched with intense interest the shifting scene, till
it gradually settled down into one of quiet. The various brigades,
as I afterwards learned, were only returning from the point towards
which the appearance of danger had hurried them, and now proceeded
to establish themselves once more in their cantonments. The French
general, either awed by the state of preparedness in which he found us,
or satisfied with having called us for a few days into the field at
this inclement season, laid aside the threatening attitude which he had
assumed. It suited not the policy of our gallant leader to expose his
troops wantonly to the miseries of a winter campaign; and hence rest
and shelter were again the order of the day. But in these the corps
to which I was attached had as yet no participation, our march being
directed, on the following morning, to the vicinity of Fort Charlotte,
where the charge of the pickets was once more assigned to us.




CHAPTER XVII.


The transactions of the three days from the 8th to the 11th of January,
resembled so completely in all particulars the transactions of other
days during which it fell to our lot to keep guard beside the mayor's
house, that I will not try the patience of my reader by narrating them
at length. He will accordingly take it for granted that the ordinary
routine of watching and labour was gone through, that no attempt was
made on the part of the enemy to surprise or harass us, and that,
with the exception of a little suffering from extreme cold, and the
want of a moderate proportion of sleep, we had no cause to complain
of our destiny. When we first came to our ground we found the redoubt
in a state of considerable forwardness--quite defensible, indeed, in
a case of emergency; and we left it even more perfect, and capable
of containing at least a thousand men. It was not, however, with any
feeling of regret that we beheld a brigade of Guards approaching
our encampment about two hours after noon on the 11th; nor did we
experience the slightest humiliation in surrendering to them our tents,
our working tools, and the post of honour.

Now, then, we looked forward, not only with resignation, but with
real satisfaction, to a peaceable sojourn of a few weeks at Gauthory.
We had never, it is true, greatly admired these cantonments; but the
events of the last eight or ten days had taught us to set its true
value upon a settled habitation of any description, and we accordingly
made up our minds to grumble no more. But just as the line of march
was beginning to form, intelligence reached us that the place of our
abode was changed. Other troops, it appeared, had been introduced into
our former apartments; and we were in consequence commanded to house
ourselves in the village of Bidart. I mean not to assert that the order
was received with any degree of dissatisfaction; but feeling as at that
moment we did, it was, in truth, a matter of perfect indifference where
we were stationed, provided only we had a roof over our heads and an
opportunity was granted of resting from our labours.

The village of Bidart is built upon an eminence, immediately in rear
of the large common on which the advanced brigade lay encamped. It
consists of about thirty houses, some of them of a tolerable size, but
the majority cottages. Into one of the largest my friend and myself
were fortunate enough to be ushered; and as we found chimneys and
windows already formed, the former permitting us to keep fires alight
without the attendant misery of smoke, and the latter proof against the
weather, we sincerely congratulated ourselves on our change of abode.
Nor was it only on account of the superiority of these over our former
quarters that we rejoiced in this migration. The country round proved
to be better stocked with game, especially with hares, than any which
we had yet inhabited: and hence we continued, by the help of our guns
and greyhounds, not only to spend the mornings very agreeably, but to
keep our own and our friends' tables well supplied.

I have mentioned, in a former chapter, that the little town of Biaritz
stands upon the sea-shore, and that it was, at the period of which
I now write, regarded as a sort of neutral ground by the French and
British armies. Patrols from both did indeed occasionally reconnoitre
it; the French, in particular, seldom permitting a day to pass without
a party of their light cavalry riding through it. Yet to visit Biaritz
became now the favourite amusement amongst us, and the greater the risk
run of being sabred or taken, the more eager were we to incur and to
escape it. But there was a cause for this, good reader, and I will tell
thee what it was.

In peaceable times Biaritz constituted, as we learned from its
inhabitants, a fashionable watering-place to the wealthy people of
Bayonne and its vicinity. It was, and no doubt is now, a remarkably
pretty village, about as large perhaps as Sandgate, and built upon
the margin of the water. The town itself lies in a sort of hollow,
between two green hills, which, towards the sea, end in broken cliffs.
Its houses were neatly whitewashed, and above all it was, and I trust
still is, distinguished as the residence of two or three handsome
women. These ladies had about them all the gaiety and liveliness of
Frenchwomen, with a good deal of the sentimentality of our own fair
countrywomen. To us they were particularly pleasant, professing, I
know not how truly, to prefer our society to that of any persons
besides; and we, of course, were far too gallant to deny them that
gratification, because we risked our lives or our freedom at each
visit. By no means. Two or three times in each week the favoured few
mounted their horses and took the road to Biaritz, from which, on more
than one occasion, they with difficulty returned.

With the circumstances attending one of these escapes I may as well
make my reader acquainted. We were for the most part prudent enough
to cast lots previously to setting out, in order to decide on whom,
among the party, the odious task should devolve of watching outside to
prevent a surprise by the enemy's cavalry, whilst his companions were
more agreeably employed within. So many visits had, however, been paid,
without any alarm being given, that one morning, having quitted Bidart
fewer in number than usual, we rashly determined to run all risks
rather than that one of the three should spend an hour cheerlessly by
himself. The only precaution which we took was to picket our horses,
ready saddled and bridled, at the garden gate, instead of putting them
up, as we were in the habit of doing, in the stable.

It was well for us that even this slender precaution had been taken. We
had sat about half an hour with our fair friends, and had just ceased
to joke on the probability of our suffering the fate of Sampson, and
being caught by the Philistines, when on a pause in the conversation
taking place, our ears were saluted with the sound of horses' hoofs
trampling upon the paved street. We sprang to the window, and our
consternation may be guessed at when we beheld eight or ten French
hussars riding slowly from the lower end of the town. Whilst we were
hesitating how to proceed, whether to remain quiet, in the hope that
the party might retire without searching any of the houses, or expose
ourselves to certain pursuit by flying, we observed a rascal, in the
garb of a seaman, run up to the leader of the patrol and lay hold of
his bridle, enter into conversation with him, and point to the abode
of our new acquaintances. This was hint enough. Without pausing to
say farewell to our fair friends, who screamed, as if they, and not
we, had been in danger, we ran with all haste to the spot where our
horses stood, and, springing into the saddle, applied the spur, with
very little mercy, to their flanks. We were none of us particularly
well mounted; but either our pursuers had alighted to search the
house, or they took at first a wrong direction, for we got so much
the start of them before the chase fairly began, that possibly we
might have escaped had we been obliged to trust to our own steeds as
far as the pickets. Of this, however, I am by no means certain, for
they were unquestionably gaining upon us, as a sailor would say, hand
over hand, when, by great good fortune, a patrol of our own cavalry
made its appearance. Then, indeed, the tables were turned. The enemy
pulled up, paused for an instant, and took to their heels; whereupon
our troopers, who had trotted forward as soon as they saw what was
the matter, put their horses to the speed and followed. Whether they
overtook their adversaries, and what was the issue of the skirmish,
if indeed any skirmish took place, I cannot tell; for though we made
an attempt to revenge ourselves upon our late pursuers, we soon found
that we were distanced by both parties, and were, perforce, contented
to ride quietly home, congratulating each other by the way on our
hairbreadth deliverance. From that time forward we were more prudent.
Our visits were indeed resumed, and with their usual frequency; but we
took care not again to dispense with the watchfulness of a sentinel,
who, on the contrary, took his station henceforth on the top of one of
the heights, from which he commanded a view of the surrounding country
to the distance of several miles. Though, therefore, we were more than
once summoned to horse because the enemy's dragoons were in sight, we
generally contrived to mount in such time as to preclude the necessity
of riding, as we had before done, for life or liberty.

By spending my mornings thus, or in a determined pursuit of game,
and my evenings in such society as a corps of gentlemanly young men
furnished, nearly a fortnight passed over my head before I was aware
that time could have made so much progress. It seldom happens, however,
that any period of human existence, whether extensive or contracted,
passes by without some circumstance occurring calculated to awaken
painful emotions. I recollect, in the course of this fortnight,
an event which, though I was no farther concerned in it than as a
spectator, made a deep and melancholy impression on my mind. I allude
to the loss of a large vessel, during a tremendous storm, on the rocks
which run out into the sea off Bidart.

The precise day of the month on which this sad shipwreck occurred I
have forgotten; but I recollect being sent for by my friend, during
the progress of one of the heaviest gales which we had witnessed,
to come and watch with him the fate of a brig, which was in evident
distress, about a couple of miles from the land. The wind blew a
perfect hurricane on shore; and hence the question was--would the
ship succeed in weathering the cape, or would she strike? If she got
once round the headland, then her course to the harbour of Secoa was
direct; if otherwise, nothing could save her. We turned our glasses
towards her in a state of feverish anxiety, and beheld her bending
under a single close-reefed topsail, and making lee-way at a fearful
rate every moment. Presently a sort of attempt was made to luff up
or tack; it was a desperate one. I cannot even now think without
shuddering of the consequence. The sail, caught by a sudden squall,
was torn into a hundred shreds: down, down she went before the surge;
in five seconds she struck against a reef, and in ten minutes more
split into a thousand fragments. One gun only was fired as a signal of
distress; but who could regard it? We possessed no boats; and had the
contrary been the case, this was a sea in which no boat could live.
Powerless, therefore, of aid, we could only stand and gaze upon the
wreck, till, piece by piece, it disappeared amid the raging waters. Not
a soul survived to tell to what country she belonged, or with what she
was freighted; and only one body was drifted to land. It was that of
a woman apparently about thirty years of age, genteelly dressed, and
rather elegantly formed; to whom we gave such sepulture as soldiers can
give, and such as they are themselves taught to expect.

The impression which that shipwreck made upon me was not only far more
distressing, but far more permanent, than the impression made by any
other spectacle of which, during the course of a somewhat eventful
life, I have been the spectator. For several days I could think of
hardly anything besides, and at night my dreams were constantly of
drowning men and vessels beating upon rocks; so great is the effect of
desuetude, even in painful subjects, and so appalling is death when
he comes in a form to which we are unaccustomed. Of slaughtered men I
have of course seen multitudes, as well when life had just departed
from them as when corruption had set its seal upon their forms; but
such sights never affected me--no, not even at the commencement of my
military career--as I was affected by the loss of that ship, though
she went to pieces at too great a distance from the beach to permit
more than a very indistinct view of her perishing inmates. Yet there
is nothing in reality more terrible in drowning than in any other kind
of death; and a sailor will look upon it, I daresay, with precisely
the same degree of indifference which a soldier experiences when he
contemplates the prospect of his own dissolution by fire or steel.

In the course of my narrative I have not made any regular attempt to
convey to the mind of the reader a distinct notion of the peculiar
customs and language which distinguish the natives of this country.
Two motives have guided me to this. In the first place, it is
nowadays known to all who are likely to peruse what I write, that the
inhabitants of those provinces which lie at the immediate base of the
Pyrenees, are a race totally distinct, and essentially different in
almost all respects, from either the Spaniards or the French. They
speak a language of their own--namely, Basque--which is said by those
who profess to be acquainted with it to resemble the Celtic more than
any other known tongue. The dress of the men consists usually of a blue
or brown jacket of coarse woollen cloth, of breeches or trousers of the
same, with a waistcoat frequently of scarlet, grey worsted stockings,
and wooden shoes. On their heads they wear a large flat bonnet, similar
to the Lowland bonnet, or scone, of Scotland. They are generally tall,
but thin; and they present altogether an appearance as uncouth as
need be fancied. The women equip themselves in many respects as the
fishwomen of the good town of Newhaven are accustomed to do, with this
difference, that they seldom cover their heads at all--and, like the
men, wear wooden clogs. They are a singular race, and appear to take
a pride in those peculiarities which keep them from coalescing with
either of the nations among whom they dwell. But all this, as I said
before, is too generally known to render it imperative upon me minutely
to repeat it.

My second motive for keeping, in a great degree, silent on the head
of manners and customs is one the efficiency of which the reader will
not, I daresay, call in question--namely, the want of opportunity to
make myself sufficiently master of the subject to enter, _con amore_,
upon it. No man who journeys through a country in the train of an
invading army ought to pretend to an intimate acquaintance with the
manners and customs of its inhabitants. Wherever foreign troops swarm,
the aborigines necessarily appear in false colours. The greater part
of them, indeed, abandon their homes; while such of them as remain are
servile and submissive through terror; nor do they ever display their
real characters, at least in the presence of a stranger. Hence it is
that nine-tenths of my brethren in arms who write at all commit the
most egregious blunders in those very portions of their books where
they particularly aim at enlightening the reading public; and that
the most matter-of-fact story, spun out by the most matter-of-fact
man or woman who has visited the seat of the late war since the
cessation of hostilities, contains, and must contain, more certain
information touching the fire-side occupations of the people than
all the 'Journals' or 'Letters to Friends at Home' which this age of
book-making has produced. Frankly confessing, therefore, that any
account which I could give of the manners and habits of the Basques
would deserve as little respect as the accounts already given by
other military tourists, I am content to keep my reader's attention
riveted--if, indeed, that be practicable--upon my own little personal
adventures, rather than amuse him with details which might be true as
far as I know to the contrary, but which, in all probability, would be
false.

Proceed we, then, in our own way. From the day of the shipwreck up to
the 23d of the month, I have no recollection of any occurrence worthy
to be recorded. Advantage was taken, it is true, of that period of
rest to lay in a fresh stock of tea and other luxuries, with the means
of accomplishing which an opportune disbursement of one month's pay
supplied us. These we purchased in a market which certain speculating
traders had established, and which followed the movements of the army
from post to post. The grand depot of all was, however, Secoa, between
which port and England communication was regularly kept up; and thither
I and my comrades resorted for such more curious articles as habit
or caprice prompted us to purchase. Moreover, by coursing, shooting,
and riding,--sometimes to Biaritz, and the house of our pretty French
women; sometimes to St Jean de Luz, where, by the way, races were
regularly established; and occasionally to the cantonments of a friend
in another division--we found our days steal insensibly, and therefore
agreeably, away; nor was it without a feeling somewhat akin to
discontent that we saw ourselves again setting forth to take our turn
of outpost duty at the old station beside Fort Charlotte.




CHAPTER XVIII.


As the circumstances attending our present tour of duty had in them
more to interest and excite than usual, I shall describe them at
greater length.

The air was cold and bracing; it was a fine clear wintry day, when the
corps to which I was attached, strengthened by the half of another
battalion, began its march to the front. Instead of employing eighteen
hundred men at the outposts, nine hundred were now esteemed capable
of providing for the safety of the left column of the army; and such
was accordingly the extent of the force which, under the command of
a lieutenant-colonel, took the direction of the mayor's house. On
arriving there we found matters in a somewhat different order from that
in which we used to find them. The enemy, it appeared, had abandoned
the ground which their pickets formerly occupied. Our advanced parties
were, in consequence, pushed forward; and the stations of the extreme
sentinels were now in front of that ground upon which so much fighting
had taken place in the beginning of last month. The guards themselves,
instead of being hutted in and about the chateau, were disposed among
a range of cottages in the very centre of the field of battle; and the
objects which were by this means kept constantly before their eyes were
certainly not of the most cheering or encouraging description.

It was not my lot to take charge of a picket-guard on the immediate
day of our advance. My business, on the contrary, was to superintend
the erection of works, which appeared to me to be thrown up as much
for the purpose of giving the soldiers employment, and keeping their
blood in circulation, as to oppose an obstacle to the advance of
Marshal Soult, from whom no serious attack was now apprehended. On
the following morning, however, I led my party to the front; nor have
I frequently spent twenty-four hours in a state of higher excitement
than I experienced during the progress of the day and the night which
succeeded this movement.

In the first place, the weather had changed greatly for the worse. The
frost continued, indeed, as intense--perhaps it was more intense than
ever; but the snow came down in huge flakes, which a cold north-east
wind drove into our faces. The hut into which the main body of the
guard was ushered presented the same ruinous appearance with almost
every other house similarly situated; it furnished no shelter against
the blast, and very little against the shower. Intelligence had,
moreover, been conveyed to us by a deserter, that Soult, irritated at
the surprisal of his post upon the Nive, was determined to retaliate
whenever an opportunity might occur; and it was more than hinted,
that one object of the late retrogression from our front was to draw
us beyond our regular line, and so place us in an exposed situation.
The utmost caution and circumspection were accordingly enjoined, as
the only means of frustrating his designs; and of these the necessity
naturally increased as daylight departed.

That I might not be taken by surprise, in case any attack was made
upon me after dark, I devoted a good proportion of the day to a minute
examination of the country in front and on each flank of my post. For
this purpose I strolled over the fields, and found them strewed with
the decaying bodies of what had once been soldiers. The enemy, it was
evident, had not taken the trouble to bury even their own dead; for, of
the carcasses around me, as many, indeed more, were arrayed in French
than in British uniforms. No doubt they had furnished food for the
wolves, kites, and wild dogs from the thickets--for the flesh of the
most of them was torn, and the eyes of almost all were dug out; yet
there was one body, the body of a French soldier, quite untouched; and
how it chanced to be so, the reader may judge for himself, as soon as
he has perused the following little story.

About the middle of the line covered by my chain of sentries was a
small straggling village, containing a single street, about twenty
cottages, and as many gardens. In the street of that village lay about
half-a-dozen carcasses more than half devoured by birds and beasts
of prey, and in several of the gardens were other little clusters
similarly circumstanced. At the bottom of one of these gardens a
Frenchman lay upon his face, perfectly entire, and close beside the
body sat a dog. The poor brute, seeing us approach, began to howl
piteously, at the same time resisting every effort, not on my part
only, but on the part of another officer who accompanied me, to draw
him from the spot. We succeeded, indeed, in coaxing him as far as the
upper part of the garden--for, though large and lank, he was quite
gentle; but he left us there, returned to his post beside the body,
and, lifting up his nose into the air, howled again. There are few
things in my life that I regret more than not having secured that dog;
for it cannot I think be doubted that he was watching beside his dead
master, and that he defended him from the teeth and talons which made a
prey of all the rest. But I had at the time other thoughts in my mind,
and circumstances prevented my paying a second visit to the place
where I had found him.

Among other happy results, the more forward position in which the
pickets were now placed, furnished me with an opportunity of obtaining
a less imperfect view of the city and defences of Bayonne than any
which I had yet obtained. I say less imperfect; for even from the
tops of the houses no very accurate survey could be taken of a place
situated upon a sandy flat, and still five or six miles distant. But I
saw enough to confirm me in the idea which I had already formed, that
the moment of attack upon these intrenchments, come when it might,
could not fail to be a bloody one.

Daylight was by this time rapidly departing; and it became incumbent
upon me to contract the chain of my vedettes, and to establish my
party a little in the rear of the cottage where we had been hitherto
stationed. By acting thus I contrived to render myself as secure as a
detachment numerically so small can ever hope to be. There were two
lakes, or rather large ponds, in the line of my position--one on the
left of the main road, the other on the right; indeed, it was near the
opposite extremity of the last-mentioned lake that we unexpectedly
found ourselves exposed to a charge of cavalry during the late battle.
Of these lakes I gladly took advantage. Planting my people in a large
house about a hundred yards in rear, I formed my sentinels into a
curved line, causing the extremities to rest each upon its own pond,
and pushing forward the centre in the shape of a bow. "Now, then,"
thought I, "everything must depend upon the vigilance of the watchmen;"
and, to render that as perfect as possible, I resolved to spend the
whole night in passing from the one to the other. Nor did I break that
resolution. I may safely say that I did not sit down for five minutes
at a time from sunset on the 24th till sunrise on the 25th.

The snow, which during an hour or two in the afternoon had ceased,
began again to fall in increased quantities after dark. The wind,
too, grew more and more boisterous every moment; it roared in the
woods, and whistled fearfully through the ruined houses; and at every
pause I could distinctly hear the wolf's long howl, and the growl
and short bark of the wild dogs, as they quarrelled over the mangled
carcasses scattered round me. Near the margin of the right-hand lake,
in particular, this horrible din was constantly audible. There lay
there, apart from each other, about ten bodies, of whom seven wore the
fragments of a British uniform; and on these a whole troop of animals,
from the thickets beyond, gorged themselves. Close beside one of these
bodies I had been under the necessity of planting a sentinel; and the
weakness of my party would not permit me to allow him a companion.
He was rather a young man, and had selected the post for himself, in
order to show that superstitious terrors had no power over him; but he
bitterly lamented his temerity, as the situation in which I found him
showed.

I visited his post about half an hour after he had assumed it--that is
to say, a little before midnight: he was neither standing nor sitting,
but leaning against a tree, and was fairly covered with a coat of
frozen snow. His firelock had dropped from his hand, and lay across the
chest of the dead man beside whom he had chosen to place himself. When
I spoke to the sentry, and desired to know why he had not challenged as
I approached, he made no answer; and on examining more closely, I found
that he was in a swoon. Of course I despatched my orderly for a relief,
and kept watch myself till he returned, when, with the assistance of
my comrades, I first dragged the dead body to the lake, into which
it was thrown, and then removed the insensible but living man to the
picket-house. There several minutes were spent in chafing and rubbing
him before he opened his eyes; but being at length restored to the use
of speech, he gave the following account of his adventure:--

He said that the corporal had hardly quitted him when his ears were
assailed with the most dreadful sounds, such as, he was very certain,
no earthly creature could produce; that he saw through the gloom a
whole troop of devils dancing beside the water's edge; and that a
creature in white came creeping towards his post, groaning heavily all
the way. He endeavoured to call out to it, but the words stuck in his
throat, nor could he utter so much as a cry. Just then he swore that
the dead man sat up and stared him in the face; after which he had no
recollection of anything, till he found himself in the picket-house. I
have no reason to suspect that man of cowardice; neither, as my reader
will easily believe, did I treat his story with any other notice than a
hearty laugh; but in the absolute truth of it he uniformly persisted,
and, if he be alive, persists I daresay to this hour.

After this adventure with my foolhardy and at the same time
superstitious follower, nothing occurred during the night which seems
to deserve special notice. As I have already mentioned, I took care to
visit the sentinels so often that danger of surprisal was effectually
averted. That these constant perambulations would have been undertaken
as a matter of choice I by no means pretend to say, for it was a night
of storm and intense cold: but I felt my situation to be a critical
one; and feeling so, I should have been less at ease by the side of a
comfortable fire than I was while forcing my way against the wind and
snow. Nor had I any reason to find fault with the conduct of my men.
Being warned of their danger in good time, they were thoroughly on the
alert to guard against it. I found each sentry more watchful than his
neighbour--in other words, one and all of them completely on the _qui
vive_.

I recollect, indeed, on one occasion being put a little upon my mettle.
It was about two in the morning when I was informed by a soldier, who
kept watch at the extremity of the hamlet, that he had heard within
the last ten minutes a more than usual noise in a large house about a
hundred and fifty yards in front of his post. He described it to me as
if people were tearing up boards, or thumping down heavy weights upon
the floor; and he himself seemed to think that a body of infantry had
arrived and established themselves within the building. I listened
attentively in order to catch any sound which might proceed from that
quarter, but none reached me. He persisted, however, in his story; and
added, that if the noise which he had heard proceeded not from men,
it must come from spirits. "And why not from dogs or wolves?" said
I. "Because dogs and wolves cannot split wood," said he; "and I will
swear, that if ever I heard planks torn asunder, I heard it now." Being
little inclined to leave the matter in doubt, I remained with the
sentinel, and despatched my orderly to bring up half-a-dozen men for
the purpose of making a reconnaissance.

The reader has probably anticipated that I found the house empty.
It was so; for, after stealing through the street with the utmost
caution--stopping every two minutes and applying my ear to the ground,
in order to catch the slightest noise--after peeping over the garden
wall, listening at the entrance, and creeping up the front steps with
the pace of a burglar, I found that the chateau was wholly tenantless;
and what was more, that not a trace of its having been recently
visited, at least by human beings, could be discovered. Nevertheless
I commended the soldier for his watchfulness, advised him to continue
equally vigilant as long as he should remain on duty, and leaving it to
himself to decide whether the sounds which he had reported proceeded
from ghosts or more tangible creatures, I quitted him.

It may not be amiss if I state here, what I have already more than
hinted, that on all these occasions I was accompanied by a spaniel
bitch. I had brought the creature with me from England when she was
a puppy of only nine months old; and she became attached to me in a
degree such as would not in all probability have been the case had
my mode of life being more settled, and she in consequence less my
companion. Nor was it only because I was fond of the animal that I
taught her to follow my fortunes thus closely. A well-trained dog is
no bad helpmate to an officer who has charge of an outpost; indeed I
was never greatly alarmed, notwithstanding the communications of my
vedettes, unless my four-footed patrol confirmed their statements. If
she barked or growled, then I felt assured that something dangerous was
near; if she continued quiet, I was comparatively easy. To that dog,
indeed, I owe my life; but the circumstance under which she preserved
it occurred in a different quarter of the world, and has no right to be
introduced into my present narrative.

In this manner was the night of the 24th of January spent. About an
hour before daybreak on the 25th I mustered my picket, according to
custom, and kept them standing under arms in front of the house till
dawn appeared. This measure was necessary, not only because it is a
standing order in the British army for advanced corps to get under arms
thus early, but because experience has proved that the first of the
morning is the favourite moment of attack, inasmuch as, by commencing
hostilities at that young hour of the day, good hopes are held out of
effecting something decisive before the day shall have ended. On the
present occasion, however, no attack was made; and hence, after waiting
the usual time, I prepared again to shift my ground, and to take post
at the more advanced station which I held yesterday, and which I had
evacuated solely for the purpose of making myself less insecure during
the hours of darkness.

We had returned to our daylight position about a quarter of an hour,
when a patrol of light cavalry arrived, and proposed to plant a vedette
upon the top of an eminence about a mile in our front. The person who
commanded the party, however, appeared to be a little in doubt as to
the practicability of performing the orders which he had received.
He said that the enemy were not willing to allow that height to be
occupied by us; that the last relief which had attempted to establish
itself there was driven off; and that he was not without apprehension
of an ambuscade, and of being taken with his whole party;--in a word,
he begged that I would allow a portion of my men to follow him, and
that I would support him in case he should be attacked either by
infantry or cavalry.

To say the truth, I was a good deal puzzled how to act, for nothing
had been communicated to me on the subject; nevertheless I determined
to lend as much assistance as I could spare, and accordingly directed
about a dozen men to follow the dragoons. Not deeming it right,
however, to intrust a detachment of my own people entirely to the
charge of a stranger, I resolved to accompany them; and perhaps it was
well that I did.

We were yet a half musket-shot from the hill which the cavalry were
desired to occupy when we observed a superior force of French dragoons
advancing from the lines towards the same point. The push now was
for the high ground. We foot-soldiers could not of course keep pace
with our mounted comrades, but we followed them at the double, and
arrived at the base just as they had crowned the height. They were
hardly there, however, when a discordant shout, or rather yell, told
us that the French were ascending by the opposite side. Our dragoons,
I observed, instantly formed line; they discharged their pistols, and
made a show of charging: but whether it was that the enemy's numbers
overawed them, or that their horses took fright at the report, I cannot
tell, but before the caps of their opponents were visible to our
eyes their order was lost, and themselves in full retreat. Down they
came, both parties at full speed; and now it was our turn to act. I
had already placed my men behind a turf fence, with strict orders not
to fire till I should command them. It was in vain that I stood upon
the top of the wall and shouted and waved to the fugitives to take a
direction to the right or left. They rode directly towards the ditch,
as if their object had been to trample us under foot; and, what was
still more alarming, the enemy were close behind them. In self-defence,
I was therefore obliged to give the preconcerted signal. My people
fired. One of our own, and three of the French dragoons dropped. The
latter, apparently astonished at the unlooked-for discharge, pulled up.
"Now, now," cried we, "charge, charge, and redeem your honour!" The
dragoons did so; and we, rising at the same instant with loud shouts,
the enemy were completely routed. Two of their troopers were taken; and
of all who escaped, hardly one escaped without a wound.

After this trifling skirmish, the French no longer disputed with us the
possession of the hill. Leaving the cavalry, therefore, to maintain it,
I fell back with my men to the picket-house; and, about an hour after
my return, was by no means displeased to find another party arrive to
relieve us. Having given to the officer in charge as much information
as I myself possessed, I called in my sentries and marched to the rear.




CHAPTER XIX.


From the 26th of January up to the 20th of the following month nothing
occurred, either to myself individually or to the portion of the army
of which I was a member, particularly deserving of notice. During that
interval, indeed, a fresh supply of wearing apparel, of flannels,
stockings, and shoes, reached me, being a present from kind friends
at home; and seldom has any gift proved more acceptable, or arrived
more opportunely: but the reader is not, I daresay, over-anxious to
know whether the articles in question were too large or too small,
or whether they fitted to a hair's-breadth. Neither would it greatly
amuse him were I to detail at length how ships freighted with corn
reached Secoa; how fatigue parties were ordered out to unload them;
and how the loads, being justly divided, were issued as forage for
the horses, which stood much in need of it. It may, however, be worth
while to state that, previous to the arrival of these corn-ships, even
the cavalry and artillery were under the necessity of feeding their
horses chiefly upon chopped furze; and hence that disease had begun to
make rapid progress among them, many dying almost every day; and all,
even the most healthy, falling fast out of condition. But for this
providential supply of wholesome oats and barley, I question whether
we should have been able to take the field, at least effectively, till
later in the season.

On the 16th of February 1814, the Allied troops may be said to have
fairly broken up from their winter quarters. The corps to which I
belonged continued, indeed, under cover till the morning of the
21st; but we were already in a great measure at our posts, seeing
that our cantonments lay immediately in rear of the pickets. Such
divisions as had been quartered in and about St Jean de Luz began to
move to the front on the 16th; and pitching their tents on the crest
of the position, they waited quietly till their leader should see
fit to command a farther advance. On these occasions, no part of the
spectacle is more imposing than the march of the artillery. Of this
species of force, six pieces form a battery, then called a brigade:
each gun is dragged by four or six horses; by four, if the brigade be
intended to act with infantry--by six, if it belong to what is called
the horse-artillery. In the former case, eight gunners march on foot
beside each field-piece, two riding _à la postilion_; in the latter,
the gunners are all mounted and accoutred like yeomanry cavalry.
Then the tumbrils and ammunition-waggons, with their train of horses
and attendants, follow in rear of the guns; and the whole procession
covers, perhaps, as much ground as is covered by two moderately strong
battalions in marching order.

The greater part of the infantry attached to the left column had passed
when brigade after brigade of guns wound through our village. These,
halting just after they had cleared the street, diverged into some
open fields on the right and left of the road, where the whole park,
amounting to perhaps thirty pieces, was established. In another green
field at the opposite side of Bidart four heavy eighteen-pounders took
their station, to be in readiness, in case of need, to be transported
to Fort Charlotte. Last of all came the cavalry, consisting of the
12th and 16th Light Dragoons, and of two regiments of heavy Germans;
nor could we avoid remarking that, though the 12th and 16th Dragoons
are both of them distinguished corps, the horses of the foreigners
were, nevertheless, in far better order than those of our countrymen.
The fact I believe to be, that an Englishman, greatly as he piques
himself on his skill as a groom, never acquires that attachment to
his horse which a German trooper experiences. The latter dreams not
under any circumstances of attending to his own comfort till after he
has provided for the comfort of his steed. He will frequently sleep
beside it, through choice; and the noble animal seldom fails to return
the affection of his master, whose voice he knows, and whom he will
generally follow like a dog.

There was another striking difference in the two brigades of cavalry
which I remarked. The English rode on, many of them silent, some
chatting of a thousand things, others humming or whistling those
tuneless airs in which the lower orders of our countrymen delight. The
Germans, on the contrary, sang, and sang beautifully, a wild chorus--a
hymn, as I afterwards learned--different persons taking different
parts, and producing altogether the most exquisite harmony. So great an
impression did this music make upon me that I caught the air, and would
write it down for the benefit of my reader were I sufficiently master
of the art of notation; but as this happens not to be the case, he must
wait till we become personally acquainted, when I promise to play it
for him in my very best style upon the flute.

Nor was it only on the left that warlike movements occurred. The whole
army took the field; and that a serious campaign was already commenced
the sound of firing at the extreme right of the line gave notice. I had
wandered abroad with my gun on the morning of the 18th--not, indeed,
venturing to proceed far from home, but trying the neighbouring copses
for a hare or a woodcock--when my farther progress was arrested by the
report of several cannon in the direction of Lord Hill's division.
These were succeeded by a short, sharp discharge of musketry; and my
sport was immediately abandoned: but I found on my return that no alarm
was excited, and that every description of force which I had left in a
state of inaction continued still inactive.

The same degree of suspense prevailed amongst us during the 19th and
20th. On the latter of these days my mind at least was kept busy by a
journey to the harbour, for the purpose of bringing up a fresh supply
of corn for the horses; though it was a species of employment with
which I would have readily dispensed, inasmuch as the day chanced to
be particularly cold, with snow. But our anxiety was destined not to
be of long continuance, an order reaching us that night at a late
hour to be accoutred and in line of march by three o'clock on the
following morning. Now then at length we applied ourselves to the task
of packing the baggage. The tents were once more summoned into use;
their condition closely examined; such rents as appeared in the canvas
were hastily repaired, and every deficiency in pegs and strings made
good. Then the ordinary supply of _provend_, as Major Dalgetty would
call it, being put up, we threw ourselves down in our clothes, and fell
asleep.

It was still dark as pitch when the well-known sound of troops hurrying
to their stations roused me from my slumber. As I had little to do in
the way of accoutring, except to buckle on my sabre and to stick my
pistols in a black leathern haversack, which on such occasions usually
hung at my back, abundance of time was given for the consumption
of as much breakfast as at that early hour I felt disposed to eat;
after which I took post beside my men. The reader will have doubtless
noted that, like the good soldier already named, I never set out upon
any military expedition without having in the first place laid in a
foundation of stamina to work upon. And here I would recommend to all
young warriors, who may be gathering laurels when nothing of me shall
remain except these Memoirs, invariably to follow my example. They may
depend upon it that an empty stomach, so far from being a provocative,
is a serious antidote to valour; and that a man who has eaten nothing
previous to either an advance or a retreat runs no little risk of
finding his strength fail at the very moment when its continuance is
of vital importance to him. No, no; your hot-brained youth, who is too
impatient to eat, is like your over-anxious hunter, which refuses its
corn because the hounds pass the stable. Neither the one nor the other
will go through a hard day's work.

The troops being formed in marching order, the word was given, and
we advanced in the direction, now so familiar to us, of the mayor's
house. As we passed the park of artillery, we heard rather than saw the
drivers limbering up, and preparations busily making for service. The
tramp of many feet, too, could be discerned, as well as the clattering
of horses' hoofs, the jingling of steel scabbards, and the rattle of
canteens and cartouch-boxes; but it was not till these various sounds
had become faint and distant that daylight began to break upon us. We
had, however, been conscious of having struck into a sort of by-lane,
and of having proceeded for some time in a direction towards the right;
and hence, when objects became visible, we were not surprised to find
that we had passed even the village of Arcanques, and that all the
country hitherto traversed by us was left behind. As may be guessed,
this circumstance alone excited pleasurable emotions; for we were weary
of the eternal mayor's house and Fort Charlotte, and anxious to reach
some other field on which to prove our courage.

The point towards which our steps were turned was a lofty eminence,
distant about a quarter of a mile from the banks of the Nive, and
commanding an extensive view of a country extremely beautiful. The
height had been occupied during the preceding day by a part of the
fifth division, which now resigned the charge to us, and descending
into the plain, crossed the river and pushed off in a direction to
the right. For ourselves, we were commanded to halt here; and as
neither the tents nor baggage had arrived--as indeed we soon learned
that they were not to follow--we sedulously set about lighting fires,
and prepared to bivouac. These were early days as yet, however, for
bivouacking; and hence arrangements were made for getting us under
cover during the night; in accordance with which we descended soon
after sunset to a large chateau, close beside the advanced sentries,
where ample accommodation was found for all of us. There the night
was passed, not altogether free from apprehension, seeing that no
pickets--only a chain of sentinels--were between us and the enemy; but
as everything remained quiet, without any attempt being made to molest
us, no evil consequences resulted from the adoption of a plan agreeable
enough, it is true, but savouring perhaps of rashness rather than
excess of wisdom.

As soon as the morrow's early parade was dismissed, and I perceived
that no indication was given of farther movements, I took my gun and
set off to the woods, where I hoped to find game enough to furnish out
a comfortable repast in the evening. Nor was I disappointed. Hares
and woodcocks abounded here; there were, moreover, numerous flocks of
golden plovers; and of these I contrived to bring home a sufficient
number to satisfy my own wants and the wants of others. But it was
not alone because I chanced to be particularly successful in shooting
that the day's excursion gave me pleasure; the country round was more
romantic and striking than any which I had yet seen, and came nearer
to a realisation of my previously-conceived notions respecting scenery
in the south of France. All was hill and dale, sweeping groves and
green meadows, with here and there a vineyard, already beginning to
give signs of vegetation, and to put forth its delicate fibres, like
our hop-plant in the month of May. The proximity of the Nive, too,
added not a little to the beauty of the prospect, as it flowed gently
and quietly on, winding for a while between sloping grass fields, and
then eluding the eye amid the thick groves which overhung its banks.
It would have been altogether as sweet and pastoral a landscape as
the imagination can very well picture, but for the remote view of the
intrenched camp which from various points might be obtained, and the
nearer glimpse of numerous watch-fires, round which groups of armed
men were swarming. But to me these were of course precisely the most
interesting objects in the panorama.

The game which the sporting members of the corps contrived this day
to pick up was so abundant that we resolved to admit the whole of our
brother officers to a participation in it, and to spend an evening
together after the fashion of a reunion at home. For this purpose
all the culinary utensils within reach were put in requisition, and
all the individuals skilled in the gastronomic art were invited to
give proof of their abilities. Beef--lean beef--that everlasting and
insipid food of soldiers--was disguised in every imaginable form;
hares were melted down into soup, woodcocks stewed, golden plovers
roasted, and sundry rabbits curried. In a word, we sat down, in number
about five-and-twenty, at six o'clock, to a dinner which would have
done no discredit in point of cookery to the favourite disciple of Dr
Kitchener, and which Sir William Curtis himself would not have deemed
unworthy of his notice. Good cheer, moreover, is generally the parent
of good-humour, and good-humour is the source of benevolence; nor would
it be easy to point out in this selfish world of ours five-and-twenty
persons whose hearts overflow more richly with the milk of human
kindness than did ours as we took our seats by the well-filled board.
Fervently did we wish that every corps in the British army--ay, and in
the French army too--could that day fare as well; while we proceeded to
prove, in the most satisfactory of all manners, that delicate viands
were not thrown away, at least upon us.

These praiseworthy expressions had hardly ceased, and we had just begun
to pay our addresses to the well-boiled soup, when the tread of horses'
hoofs attracted our notice. It would have been a positive sin had the
enemy come on at such a moment as this; and I verily believe we in our
wrath would have given him no quarter. Nevertheless, sins are daily
committed; nor were we by any means at ease touching this important
matter, till the cause of the alarm appeared. It was a wounded officer,
who had been shot in a skirmish this morning, and was now slowly
travelling to the rear, being with difficulty held on his horse by a
couple of attendants. Our dinner was instantly abandoned, and we all
ran to offer such assistance as our means enabled us to offer. But the
poor fellow was too seriously hurt to accept of our invitations to eat.
The surgeon accordingly took him in charge, and having amputated the
arm which one ball had broken, and striven in vain to extract another
from his side, he left him to the care of his servant. The man was dead
before morning.

It is impossible to describe the chilling effect of this adventure upon
all of us. Steeled as men necessarily become in a continued state of
warfare against the milder and more gentle feelings of our nature,
they must be hardened indeed if they can behold a dying fellow-creature
arrive among them in an hour of jollity and mirth without viewing the
contrast in so strong a light as to damp, if it be unable utterly to
destroy, their hilarity. For our own parts, we returned indeed to
table, and chatted, or endeavoured to chat, as if no such guest had
come among us. But it would not do. Our party, which we had designed to
keep together till dawn, broke up soon after ten o'clock; and we lay
down to sleep with minds more full of our suffering brother in arms
than of our own joviality.

The wounded officer belonged to a regiment of the fifth division. He
had acted with a small party as one of the flank patrol during an
oblique movement of his brigade along the front of the enemy's line,
and falling in with a body of their skirmishers, had been wounded in a
wood, where the rapid advance of the column left him. His servant and
another man, having procured a horse from one of his friends, returned
to his assistance. But before they could discover him the division
was too far on its way to be overtaken; consequently they took with
him a direction to the rear, which brought them to our house. He had
received his wounds at an early hour in the day, and had been preserved
from bleeding to death only by the cold; but the long period which
elapsed ere the hurts could be dressed rendered them doubly severe.
Our surgeon indeed assured us, that no care, however speedily bestowed,
could have saved him; and therefore it was perhaps as well that the
absence of medical assistance shortened his misery by protecting him
from the torture necessarily attendant upon useless dressings.

We had just begun to drop into a forgetfulness of all causes both of
joy and sorrow when a dragoon arrived with orders for the commanding
officer, by which it appeared that we were to be under arms at three
o'clock next morning, and to follow where the bearer--a soldier of
the corps of guides--should lead. Something, too, was whispered about
a general attack upon the enemy's lines--of passing the Adour--and
investing Bayonne; but these were mere surmises, naturally following
upon such vague directions. For myself, I permitted them not to occupy
much of my attention, or to keep their places long in my mind; but
philosophically concluding that I had no choice submitted to me, and
that I must go wherever I should be sent, and act exactly as I should
be desired, I once more threw myself on the floor and closed my eyes.
Sleep was not long a stranger to them.




CHAPTER XX.


Of the appearance of the country through which we marched on the
morning of the 23d February I can say but little, the greater part
of the journey having been performed in the dark. When day dawned,
however, we perceived that we had been defiling by a new road towards
the left; and at eight o'clock we found ourselves in a green field
about a musket-shot from the highroad, and within three miles of the
works in front of Bayonne. At the other end of the field was a picket
of the enemy, which instantly turned out and lined the ditches; whilst
we contented ourselves with forming into column, and then piling
arms, we stood still till farther instructions should arrive. In the
meanwhile I was not unemployed. By the help of my telescope I took
as accurate a survey of the stupendous fortifications before me as
circumstances would permit; and the following is as nearly as I can
recollect the aspect which they presented:--

The position which Marshal Soult had taken up, and which has long
been justly regarded as one of the most formidable in the south of
France, ran parallel, or nearly so, for about four miles with the
Adour. Its right rested upon the strong and extensive fortifications
of Bayonne; its left upon the small river Joyeuse and the formidable
post of Hilletre. When I describe this as being the position of Marshal
Soult, I mean to say that such was the line which his army occupied
previous to the renewal of hostilities on our part. Towards his right
no change had indeed taken place; but on his left he had been driven
back, first from Hilletre upon St Martin, and then through St Palais,
as far as the village of Arriverente. From this again he was dislodged
on the 17th by the 92d Regiment, under the command of Colonel Cameron;
till, finally, falling back from post to post, the strength of his
force became divided. The intrenched camp near St Jean Pied de Port
was abandoned; and Soult, after defending as long as he could his
strongholds, principally at Hastingues and Oyergave, retired with his
extreme left within the _tête-de-pont_ at Payerchourade. When I glanced
my eye, therefore, along the intrenchments this morning, I was able to
take in only so much of the formidable line as extended from the city
to the hamlet of Villeneuve, on the Gave d'Oleron; and of the last
mentioned of these places I obtained a view so indistinct, that had I
not previously known that it formed one key of the position, I should
not have been aware of its vast importance.

It is not my design to attempt an accurate detail of the eventful
operations of this and the following day. On the left of the centre
(the point where I chanced to be stationed), comparatively little
fighting took place. We made, indeed, from time to time, demonstrations
of attack, drove in a few pickets, and sent out occasionally a body
of skirmishers, just by way of keeping the attention of the enemy
awake; but it was on the right of our line that the most important
proceedings occurred. Lord Wellington's plan was to cut off the army
of Soult entirely from Bayonne, and to draw him if possible from the
works which he had erected; and in the execution of his plan our leader
was as successful as he generally proved to be in all his schemes.
Whilst, therefore, we were thus amusing ourselves on the heights
above Bayonne, Sir Rowland Hill, with the light, the second, and a
Portuguese division, passed the Gave d'Oleron at Villeneuve; Sir Henry
Clinton crossed at the head of the sixth division between Montfort and
Laas; and Sir Thomas Picton, with his own favourite third division,
threatened the bridge of Sauveterre, and obliged the enemy to blow it
up. The effect of these several attacks was to break the line which
Soult had formed in no less than three points, and to oblige him to
draw off the main body of his army from his intrenched camp, and to
establish himself on the heights above Orthes.

Meanwhile the first division on the extreme left was not inactive.
It formed a part, and a prominent part, in this stupendous plan of
operations to take possession of both banks of the Adour, as well below
as above the city, and to place Bayonne in a state of blockade at the
very moment when the army which covered it should be driven from its
position. To render that scheme effectual, it was necessary to push a
detachment of infantry across the Adour on rafts, for the purpose of
protecting the formation of a bridge which Lord Wellington had resolved
to erect. This was effected at a point three miles distant from the
sea, where the river is full eight hundred yards wide; and so little
was the movement anticipated, that six hundred men, under the command
of Major-General Stopford, were actually ferried over before the enemy
exhibited any symptom of alarm, or seemed to be aware that an attempt
of the kind was in progress.

The bridge by which the Adour was to be spanned it was proposed to
construct with _chasse-marées_--small vessels, or decked boats--which,
being arranged with bows up the stream, at an interval of perhaps
twelve yards apart, were to be connected with strong cables, on which
deals were to be laid transversely. These vessels had been collected
for some time, and now lay in the harbour of Secoa, waiting only for
a fair wind to aid them in effecting their entrance into the Adour.
Nor is that an easy matter, even for a craft of forty or fifty tons
burthen. At the mouth of the Adour is a bar or bank of sand quite
impassable at low water, and which, during common full tides, is so
little covered that nothing larger than a large fishing-boat can float.
When the spring-tides come, I believe that ships of a considerable size
may enter; but nothing approximating to a ship can hope to cross at any
other season.

When the army broke up from winter quarters it was not the season of
spring-tide; neither could military operations be delayed till it came.
It was accordingly determined by Rear-Admiral Penrose, who commanded
the squadron cruising off the coast, to force his way up the stream
at all hazards as soon as a breeze should serve; and the command
of the boats dedicated to this perilous service was intrusted to a
gallant officer from the sister isle, by name O'Reily. No man could
be better cut out for such an enterprise. Brave, impetuous, perhaps
somewhat rash, Captain O'Reily was not a little galled when he found
his progress delayed during the whole of the 23d by a dead calm. He did
not, however, let the interval go to seed. Perceiving that nothing was
to be done on his own element, he came ashore, and was very serviceable
in helping to construct the rafts, and putting the soldiers in proper
order for crossing.

It was about ten in the morning when the posts which the enemy occupied
in and near Anglete, as well as among the sand-hills on the left bank
of the Adour, being carried, General Stopford's little corps began to
pass the river. To facilitate this operation, or rather to hinder the
enemy from observing it, our brigade, which had hitherto remained idle
upon the brow of the same rising ground where, after the action of the
9th of the preceding November, we had halted, was directed to execute
various manœuvres. We first deployed into line, then extended our
files into skirmishing order, next threw out half-a-dozen companies,
who rushed forward at double-quick time and with loud shouts, as if
an assault were seriously intended. Nor were our movements unnoticed.
In less than five minutes several batteries and breastworks in our
immediate front, which had previously remained almost empty of
defenders, were crowded with soldiers; whilst three pieces of light
artillery came galloping from the right and took post in a field across
which our route, had we pursued it, must have lain.

To meet the detached companies, a body of tirailleurs advanced, and
a very entertaining skirmish began. For myself, I was during the
entire day in a place of perfect safety, out of reach even of the
light cannon which were turned against us; and hence I had every
opportunity of observing with an easy mind the progress of those about
me. Immediately on our left was a division of Spanish infantry, which,
occupying the village of Anglete, kept up the communication between us
and the Guards. On our right, again, was a Portuguese corps; and it
is curious enough that while the French were satisfied with watching
us, and with giving proof that they were determined to oppose any
attack on our part, they made several spirited assaults upon our
allies. By the Portuguese they were met with much gallantry, and in
excellent order. Towards the close of the war, indeed, the Portuguese
infantry had become a very efficient force; but the Spaniards proved
less troublesome to them. Indeed it was very evident that, but for the
presence of our brigade on one flank, and a brigade of Guards upon
the other, the French would have disposed of that portion of the line
pretty much as they pleased. As matters stood, they were content from
time to time to drive the poor Spaniards out of the village; after
which, when they saw the red-jackets moving, they fell back again
leisurely to their own position.

It was a positive relief to avert one's eyes from the operations of
the Spanish corps, and to turn them towards the Portuguese. The latter
consisted of one battalion of caçadores and two of heavy infantry, of
which the caçadores alone could in strict propriety of speech be said
to be engaged. Covering the front of the others, and communicating
with our skirmishers, they spread themselves in extended order over
the fields, and kept up a steady, cool, and well-directed fire upon
the cloud of tirailleurs which vainly endeavoured to drive them back
upon their reserve. In looking at such a scene as this, you generally
fix your eye upon one or two individuals, whose progress you watch so
long that you become at last as much interested in their safety as if
they were personal acquaintances of your own. One Portuguese soldier in
particular attracted my notice that day. He seemed, if I might judge
from his proceedings, to be animated with a more than ordinary degree
of hatred towards the French--that is to say, he looked neither to
his right nor to his left; paid no attention either to the momentary
retrogression or advance of his comrades; but steadily kept his ground,
or varied it only for the purpose of obtaining a better aim. He had
posted himself considerably in advance of his own line behind a large
furze bush, or rather in the middle of a furze bower, from which I saw
him deliberately pick off three Frenchmen one after another. At length
he was noticed by the enemy, and six or seven of them turned towards
his place of ambuscade. Nothing daunted, the Portuguese remained
perfectly steady: he crouched down indeed to load, but the moment
his rifle was charged he leant over the bush and fired. One of his
assailants fell; whilst the rest, pointing their pieces to the spot
from whence the smoke issued, gave him a volley: but it was harmless;
he had darted to the other side of the bush, and every shot missed. He
knelt down and loaded again; the enemy were now within twenty yards of
him; he fired, and an officer who accompanied them walked off the field
grasping his left arm in his right hand. The rest of his adversaries
seemed to have got enough of it, and retreated; and there he stayed
till the close of the affair, after which he returned to the ranks of
his regiment apparently unhurt. That man killed and wounded not fewer
than eight French soldiers during the day.

It was drawing towards evening when our attention was powerfully, and
somewhat painfully, attracted to the little corps which had crossed
the Adour upon rafts, and now occupied a position among the sand-hills
on the opposite bank. Hitherto they had been either unnoticed or
disregarded by the enemy. The only serious fighting, indeed, which
had as yet taken place on the extreme left of our line, was a sort of
struggle between a French corvette, assisted by two gunboats, and a
British battery of eighteen-pounders, well supplied with red-hot shot.
The result was, as may be anticipated, the complete destruction of the
gunboats and the compulsory retreat of the ship; but to the passing of
our infantry no regard seemed to have been paid--at least no endeavour
was made to cut them off, or to hinder them from strengthening
their post. At length, however, the French general appeared to have
discovered his error. A heavy column of infantry, with several pieces
of cannon, was accordingly formed, and marched in firm array to the
attack of only six hundred soldiers of the British Guards, supported by
a small detachment of rockets.

The ground which General Stopford held was, happily for him, extremely
favourable. It was full of inequalities, each of which formed, as it
were, a natural parapet, behind which troops could shelter themselves.
Perceiving the approach of his assailants, the general formed his
people to the best advantage in rear of the sand-hills; and causing
them to lie down so as to be completely concealed, he waited till the
head of the attacking column had arrived within twenty yards of him.
Then the word was given to start up; and the rocket-men throwing in
their diabolical engines with extraordinary precision, simultaneously
with a well-directed volley from the infantry, the confusion created
in the ranks of the enemy beggars all description. I saw and conversed
with a French sergeant who was taken in this affair. He assured me
that he had been personally engaged in twenty battles, and that he
had never known the sensation of fear till that day. But a rocket, it
appeared, had passed harmlessly through his knapsack; and such was the
violence with which it flew, that he fell upon his face, not stunned,
but stupefied--so frightful in his ears was the hissing sound which
the missile sends forth in its progress. Nor is it the least appalling
incident in a rocket's eccentricities that you see it coming yet know
not how to avoid it. It skips and starts about from place to place in
so strange a manner, that the chances are, when you are running to the
right or left to get out of the way, that you run directly against it;
and hence the absolute rout which a fire of ten or twelve rockets can
create, provided they take effect. But it is a very uncertain weapon.
It may indeed spread havoc among the enemy, but it may also turn back
upon the people who use it, causing, like the elephant of other days,
the defeat of those whom it was designed to protect. On the present
occasion, however, it proved materially serviceable, as every man can
testify who witnessed the result of the fire.

Having thus briefly detailed the issue of the engagement, it may
appear almost superfluous to state how we were affected by the
anticipation of its occurrence. We knew well that a mere handful of
our fellow-soldiers were unavoidably thrown into such a position that,
let their case be what it might, no succour could be afforded them. We
saw, by the dense and lengthened mass which was moving down, and by the
guns and horses which accompanied it, that this little corps was about
to sustain an assault from a force capable of overwhelming it by their
bodily weight; and feeling that we could render no other aid than that
which empty wishes supply, we cast no imputation upon the bravery of
our comrades when we trembled for their safety. All eyes were directed
to the sand-hills; scarce a word was spoken by the spectators; and the
greater number held their breath till the shock was given.

The battery of eighteen-pounders, of which I have already spoken,
failed not to salute the enemy's column as it passed. The range was
a long one; but our gunners were skilful, and it was consolatory to
see, from the occasional checks and disorders in various parts of the
advancing corps, that its salute was more than honorary. But what was
become of our own people? They had all disappeared; and it seemed as if
the French troops might march without molestation to the margin of the
sea. The problem was speedily solved; and the first discharge, given
as I have described above, decided the business. It was followed, as
such a fire generally is in the British service, by a charge with the
bayonet; and we who, but a moment before, had been breathless with
apprehension, now shouted in triumph, as we beheld the mass, of late so
formidable, scattered and put to flight by a single battalion.

Darkness was by this time setting in, and with the approach of night
came the gradual cessation of military movements on both sides. One
more attack upon the Spanish and Portuguese posts, supported as
heretofore by demonstrations of which we were the objects, wound up for
that day the warlike operations of the enemy. It succeeded, as others
had done, to a certain extent; but no results arose out of it. The
enemy did not try to keep the ground which they had taken; but, falling
back within their proper line, left us to establish our pickets where
directions had already been given to plant them. Meanwhile the corps to
which I was attached lay down to rest upon the brow of the hill which
it had maintained throughout the day. There, after nightfall, a Spanish
corps arrived to relieve us; whereupon we stood to our arms, and moved
away, taking a direction towards the extreme left of the Allied line,
though inclining all the while to the front, and so drawing nearer to
the river and the sand-hills that overlook it.

Whether it was the intention of Sir John Hope to carry us farther
towards his left this night, I cannot tell; but on arriving in rear
of Anglete, we were by no means displeased at being told that we were
destined to remain there till the morrow. The roads were all choked
up with tumbrils, ammunition-waggons, baggage, and troops filing to
different points, apparently not in the best possible order. Around the
village, in particular, a vast bivouac, chiefly of Spanish infantry
and muleteers, had been formed, insomuch that it was not without
some difficulty that we made our way into the street; and there the
sounds which saluted us as we passed--the Babel-like confounding of
all languages--the laugh, the cry, the oath, and here and there the
low moan or wild shriek of the wounded--formed altogether a species
of concert which certainly gave no evidence of strict discipline or
accurate arrangement. It was, however, a wild and striking scene; and
a sort of wavering and dull light, which the fires of the bivouac shed
over it, added not a little to its sublimity.

At length we reached the houses which were set apart for our
accommodation; and truly they were far from being over-commodious.
About three hundred men were ushered into a cottage consisting of two
apartments, or, as they say in the north, of "a but and a ben;" and
here, upon the earthen floor, we were fain to cast ourselves down in
order to obtain in sleep an escape from the cravings of hunger, which
for several hours past had been somewhat urgent. We had eaten nothing
since three o'clock in the morning, nor had any supply of provisions
arrived. The poor cottage was, as may be imagined, wholly unfurnished
with viands; indeed, we were as much surprised as pleased when the
peasant to whom it belonged, and who had remained to keep possession,
produced a bottle of very bad brandy, called, in the language of the
country, _aquadente_. This we divided among us as far as it would go;
and having wished in vain for the arrival of the quartermaster and
commissary, we wrapped our cloaks about us and lay down. Sleep soon
came to our relief.




CHAPTER XXI.


The night of the 23d passed by in quiet; and long before dawn on the
24th we stood as usual in our ranks, and under arms. So passed about
half an hour, when orders were given to form into marching order, and
to file towards the left, in the direction of the Adour. We were glad
to be put in motion, and, after a journey of about a league, halted
upon a sandy plain, at the distance of perhaps a couple of miles from
the walls of Bayonne, and half that distance, or something less, from
the outworks. Though thus placed within easy range of the enemy's
advanced batteries, we were nevertheless well protected from their
fire; for a little sand-hill stood in our immediate front, of height
sufficient to shut out not only the soldiers, but the tops of the
tents, from the gaze of the besieged.

Though we reached our ground at an early hour in the morning, a
considerable space of time elapsed ere the baggage and provisions came
up. The reader will therefore imagine that the setting forth of a
substantial breakfast, which immediately ensued, proved a source of
no trifling gratification to men who had fasted for upwards of forty
hours, and whose appetite, though stifled by sleep, had revived of
late in a very troublesome degree. It consisted, I well recollect, of
slices of beef hastily and imperfectly broiled, with mouldy biscuit and
indifferent tea; but the coarsest viands are sweet to the hungry, and
we were in no humour that day to find fault with the quality of ours.

We were yet busy with our meal, and the baggage and tents, though
removed from the backs of the animals, lay packed and ready for
another move, when the intelligence, not at that moment unacceptable,
reached us, that for the present we were to remain stationary, that
our position in the line was taken up. Immediately the camp was marked
out in due form; sundry ruinous dwellings in its vicinity were taken
possession of, chiefly as stables for the horses; guns, fishing-rods,
and greyhounds were desired to be put in serviceable order; and every
disposition was made to secure comfort. The sole subject of complaint,
indeed, was found to be in the unfavourable state of the weather, which
had become since yesterday boisterous, with heavy showers of rain and
hail. But this very circumstance, at which we were disposed to murmur,
chanced to be, of all others, the most favourable to the operations of
the army. By the help of these squalls, the boats and _chasse-marées_,
which had hovered about the mouth of the Adour for several days, were
enabled to pass the bar, and the groundwork of the floating bridge (if
such an Iricism be admissible) was laid.

As the passage of the bar was an operation of considerable difficulty,
and as I was fortunate enough to be an eyewitness of the daring
intrepidity and nautical skill of those who effected it, I shall take
the liberty of describing the occurrence more at length.

My friend and myself having seen a little to the comforts of our men,
and added in an important degree to our own by a change of habiliments,
walked forth with no other view than that of whiling away certain
hours, which might have otherwise hung heavy on our hands. We took the
direction of the river's mouth, because there a dark pine-wood promised
to shelter us from the blast, and because we were anxious to see how
far the engineers had proceeded in the construction of the bridge. At
this time we were quite in the dark as to the sort of bridge which was
about to be formed. We knew not so much as that it was to consist of
sailing vessels at all, but concluded that pontoons would be anchored,
as had been the case at the Bidassoa. Our astonishment may therefore
be conceived when, on mounting an eminence, we beheld a squadron of
some thirty craft bearing down, with all sail set, towards the bar,
over which the waves were dashing in white foam, being driven inwards
by a strong gale from the north-east. But we were not the only anxious
spectators of this animating show. The bank of the river, and all the
heights near, were crowded with general and staff officers, conspicuous
among whom were Sir John Hope, and, if my memory fail me not, Lord
Wellington himself. The groups were, one and all of them, speechless.
The squadron and its manœuvres involving, as they did, the lives of the
gallant men who executed them, seemed to engross the attention of the
lookers-on, who all faced in the same direction, and stood silent and
motionless as statues.

Down came the boats before the breeze with amazing velocity. The surf,
however, ran so high, and there seemed to be so little water upon the
sands, that I for one felt as if a weight had been removed from my
heart, when I beheld them suddenly put up their helms and tack about
again. The prospect from the sea must have been appalling; and even
British sailors hesitated, for once in their lives, whether they could
face the danger. But the hesitation was not of long continuance. A
row-boat, Spanish built, but manned by Lieutenant Cheyne and five
seamen from the Woodlark, threw herself with great judgment upon
a wave. The swell bore her clear across the shoal; and loud and
reiterated were the shouts with which she was greeted as she rushed
proudly through the deep water. The next which came was a prize--a
large French fishing-lugger--manned by seamen from a transport, closely
followed by a gunboat, under the command of Lieutenant Cheshire. They,
too, were borne across; but the fourth was less fortunate. It was a
schooner-rigged craft, full of people, and guided by Captain Elliot. I
know not how it came about, whether a sudden change of wind occurred,
or a rope unfortunately escaped from its fastening, but at the instant
when the schooner took the foam, the mainsail of her hinder mast
flapped round. In one second her broadside was to the surf, in another
she was upset, and her gallant captain, with several of his crew,
perished among the breakers. The rest were dashed by an eddy towards
the bank and happily saved.

Our horror at contemplating this event, though extreme, was necessarily
brief, because our attention was immediately attracted to other vessels
which, one after another, drew near. Of these, all except one, a
_chasse-marée_, succeeded in making good the passage. It shared the
fate of the schooner: it was upset upon the curl of a wave, and went
down with the whole crew. This last was even a more awful spectacle
than the former. The little vessel, after being tossed round, rocked
for a moment, as it were, upon the surf, just long enough for us to see
the despairing gestures of the sailors, and to hear their shriek of
consternation; and then a huge wave striking her, she fell, not upon
her broadside, but with bottom upwards. Not a man escaped of all who
had conducted her, and several fine promising midshipmen were among
them.

Five-and-twenty vessels having now entered the Adour, besides four or
five gunboats destined to protect them, no time was lost in running
the whole up to their proper stations, and in bringing them securely
to anchor at equal distances from one another. They were then strongly
bound together by cables, the ends of which were made fast to winches
prepared for the purpose on each bank, and which, running both by the
bows and sterns, kept the craft tolerably steady, notwithstanding the
violence of the current. I need not add that no economy was exercised
in the matter of anchors, of which two were dropped from each bow, and
a like number from each stern.

The boats being thus rendered sufficiently secure, half-a-dozen strong
ropes were extended along their centres, at equidistances of about
two feet from one another. These were so disposed as not to bear
any continuous weight upon the smaller vessels. They were steadied,
indeed, as they passed over each, by being fastened to capstans, and
so kept from swinging too widely; but it was upon four or five of the
largest class only that they were made to lean, the intervals between
being in reality so many hanging bridges. Across these ropes were
laid down planks, made fast by ties only; and the whole was so nicely
balanced that though the tread of a single passenger caused it to swing
backwards and forwards, an entire army might pass with perfect safety.
Such was the famous bridge of boats across the Adour, which connected
the two banks of the river, where it measures eight hundred yards
in width, and which, in itself, including groundwork on both sides,
covered a space little short of nine hundred yards.

Ahead of the bridge, with their broadsides towards the town, were
moored five gunboats, each armed with six long twenty-four pounders.
These, in their turn, were in part defended by a slight boom; whilst
a boom infinitely stronger, capable of repelling any substance which
might be floated down by the tide, hung between them and the bridge.
A boom somewhat similar, but more in the shape of a breakwater, was
placed behind the bridge, to shelter it from any sudden swell of the
sea, such as might be apprehended during spring-tides; and each boat
being manned by a party of seamen well skilled in the management of
such craft, the fabric was justly regarded as abundantly secure. To
complete its construction, however, gave employment to the artificers
of the army during two whole days, though they contrived to render it
passable for infantry in less than half that space of time.

Meanwhile, neither the right nor the centre of the Allied army was
inactive. The operations of the 23d--of which I have already said
as much, and perhaps more than one who professes not to speak from
personal observation is entitled to say--having been concluded, Soult,
alarmed at the determined advance of his enemies, and confounded by
the celerity of their movements, retired, in the night of 24th, from
Sauveterre across the Gave du Pau, and, destroying all the bridges in
his flight, assembled the strength of his army, on the morning of the
25th, near the village of Orthes. Thither Lord Wellington immediately
followed. Pushing forward a numerous body of Spaniards, so as to cut
off all communication between the French Marshal and Bayonne, he
manœuvred with the third, fourth, fifth, sixth, and seventh British
divisions during that and the succeeding days; and finally, on the
27th, fought the glorious battle of Orthes, of which, as I had no share
in it, I shall attempt no description. The result of it, as everybody
knows, was the hasty and disastrous retreat of Marshal Soult upon
Toulouse, the capture of Bourdeaux, and the first public declaration
which had yet been made, by any part of the French nation, of the
renewal of their allegiance to the house of Bourbon.

Whilst these great events were in progress elsewhere, a corps,
consisting of the first and fifth British divisions, of two or three
brigades of Portuguese, and a crowd of Spaniards, proceeded, under the
command of Sir John Hope, to invest the town and citadel of Bayonne.
As the rest of my journal will consist entirely of such occurrences
as befell during the progress of the siege, it may not be amiss if I
endeavour to convey to the mind of my reader something like a correct
idea of the important city against which our efforts were turned, and
of the general face of the country immediately around it.

The city of Bayonne stands upon a sandy plain--the citadel upon a rock
or hill which closely overhangs it. Between them runs the river Adour
with a sluggish current, resembling, in the darkness of its water and
the sliminess of its banks, the Thames near Gravesend or Blackwall,
but considerably narrower and more shallow. Both town and fortress are
regularly and strongly fortified; and on the present occasion a vast
number of field-works, of open batteries, fleches, and redoubts, were
added to the more permanent masonry which formed the ramparts. Nor was
the erection of these the only method adopted by the enemy to give
unusual strength to this most important place. Various sluices were
cut from the river, by means of which, especially in our immediate
front, the whole face of the country could be inundated at pleasure to
the extent of several miles; whilst ditches, deep and wide, were here
and there dug, with the view of retarding the advance of troops, and
keeping them exposed to a heavy fire from the walls, as often as the
occurrence of each might cause a temporary check. The outer defences
began in all directions, at the distance of a full mile from the
glacis. The roads were everywhere broken up and covered with abattis
and other encumbrances. Nothing, in short, was neglected which promised
in any degree to contribute to the strength of a place which is justly
regarded as the key of the southern frontier of France.

Such was the condition of the works about Bayonne. With respect to
the country commanded by them, it varied considerably, both in its
nature and general appearance, the soil being in some directions
tolerably fruitful, in others little better than sand. It was, however,
universally flat, and very slightly wooded or broken to the distance of
three or four miles in every direction from the ditch. A few hamlets
were, indeed, scattered here and there (and wherever there is a French
hamlet a certain quantity of foliage will be found), the largest of
which was Anglete, where we had spent the night of the 23d, and through
which runs the great road to Bourdeaux and Paris; but in general the
desolate aspect of things seemed to indicate that the labours of the
builder and planter were prohibited, lest a village or a grove might
shelter an enemy, or furnish a point for the establishment of a hostile
post within cannon-shot of the walls. In the direction of the sea, and
parallel with the left bank of the river, deep sands prevailed. These
were, for large patches, totally bare of verdure; but thick woods
of dark short pine more frequently overspread them, which, rising
and falling, as the sands had broken up into little eminences and
valleys, gave a very striking and romantic appearance to that side of
the panorama. As I afterwards learned, the Landes--those vast forests
which stretch all the way to Bourdeaux, and which, according to the
tradition of the natives, were originally planted to render firm what
had previously been a huge moving quicksand--begin here.

My description of Bayonne, and the scenery near it, applies thus far
only to the city, and to the tract of country situated on the southern
or Spanish side of the Adour. The citadel, being built upon a hill, or
rather upon the crest of a range of heights which rise gradually from
the sea, and extend upwards in a sort of inclined plane for about eight
miles, differs entirely from the preceding sketch, both in its style
of fortification and in the nature of the view which it presents to the
gaze of a traveller. Like all hill-forts, its works are constructed
rather as the natural inequalities of the ground permit than after
any scientific plan or model. One of its fronts--that which faces the
village of St Esprit and the mouth of the river--presents, indeed,
the regular octangular appearance; but in other directions the abrupt
and uneven course of the rock has compelled the engineer to draw his
wall around without any respect to form or figure. Yet it is a place
of prodigious strength--the more assailable of its faces being that on
which the shape of the ground has permitted the engineer to bestow the
largest share of his attention.

The view from the ramparts of the citadel is extremely pleasing. Vast
woods of pine are seen in the distance; whilst nearer, the face of the
country is beautifully diversified by the intermingling of corn-fields,
meadows, groves of magnificent cork-trees, vineyards, cottages, and
several chateaux. Close beneath the walls, moreover, lies the romantic
village of St Esprit, with its neat church and churchyard, sloping
along the side of a ravine, and having all its cottages surrounded by
pretty gardens, well stocked with fruit-trees and shrubs. This village
was commanded, not only by the guns from the citadel, but by a redoubt
which General Thouvenot, the French governor, had caused to be erected
on a sort of table-land near it, and which, though no addition to the
beauty of the landscape, added greatly to the general strength of the
castle by occupying the only level spot across which the besiegers
might hope to push a sap with any success or facility.

Though Bayonne was already, to all intents and purposes, invested--that
is to say, though the garrison and inhabitants were fairly cut off from
holding open intercourse with other parts of the country--nothing of
the restraint of a siege, in the proper acceptation of the term, had
as yet been imposed on either class. The besiegers had, indeed, drawn
an extended line around the works; but the French pickets were still
posted at the distance of three, four, and some of them five miles
from the glacis; whilst their patrols continually broke the chain of
connection, and made excursions as far as the camp of Marshal Soult
at Orthes. This was the case at least up to the evening of the 24th.
There being no direct or safe communication between the two banks of
the Adour below the town, Sir John Hope could not venture to tighten
the cord, or to convert the investment into a strict blockade. For as
yet all reinforcements to the little corps which, under the command of
General Stopford, had passed on the 23d, were floated across by means
of rafts--the men sitting with their guns upon the beams of wood, and
leading the horses, which swam after them. Yet, even in this rude way,
so large a force contrived to establish itself among the sand-hills by
the evening of the 24th, that all apprehension of a renewed attack from
the enemy was laid aside. Nevertheless the artificers were anxiously
pressed to render the bridge trustworthy with as little delay as
possible; and they strenuously exerted themselves to meet the wishes of
the general.

Meanwhile, about fourteen or twenty thousand men of the Spanish army
took post along those faces of the town and citadel which looked
towards Helletre and the Joyeuse. The left of this semicircular line,
resting upon the heights where, during the late affair, I stood in
safety to watch the progress of the skirmishers on both sides of me,
swept round, through the abandoned intrenchments, to the brink of the
river. Here, the stream being narrow, a pontoon-bridge was formed, and
the line recommencing on the opposite bank, wound on till it touched a
corps of Portuguese at the back of the citadel. But as yet the chain
was continued from that point only by occasional patrolling parties;
and through this opening the enemy daily sent out his foragers and
brought in supplies. Such a state of things could not be permitted
long to last. It was essential to the prosecution of Lord Wellington's
future operations that the gap should be filled up previous to the
renewal of hostilities between his army and that of Soult; nor was much
time wasted in making preparations for driving the garrison within the
walls. Working parties laboured hard, not only during the day, but
during the whole night of the 24th; and at dawn on the 25th it was
reported that infantry might cross the floating bridge with safety.
This was the signal for action; and hence the 25th proved to be, at
least to part of the army, a day of hostile employment.




CHAPTER XXII.


A direct communication between the opposite banks of the river being
thus established, the remaining battalions of the Guards, the chief
part of the King's German Legion, together with a proportionate force
of cavalry and artillery, marched at daybreak on the 25th to join their
comrades among the sand-hills. The whole of the besieging army being
at the same time put in motion, the gap which prior to this date had
existed in the line of investment was filled up. Little or no fighting
took place on that occasion. The enemy, perceiving our design, offered
no serious resistance, but evacuating the village of Boucaut, after
having exchanged a few shots with our skirmishers, established their
pickets about half a mile in its rear. As yet, therefore, a good deal
more of open space was granted to them than they could long hope to
enjoy; but all opportunity of corresponding with Marshal Soult, as well
as of adding to the stock of grain and provisions already in their
magazines, was cut off.

The running and irregular fire which had been maintained throughout
the morning gradually died away, and ceased altogether about noon.
From that hour till after nightfall everything continued quiet. A
feverish excitement, necessarily consequent even upon a trifling
skirmish, prevailed indeed amongst us; nor did we venture to take off
our accoutrements, or return to our usual employments, during the
remainder of the day. But we might have done so, had we felt disposed,
with perfect safety; because the enemy were too well satisfied with
being permitted to retain what they still held of territory beyond the
glacis to endanger its loss by a useless attempt to regain what had
been wrested from them. Still we were anxious; and the anxiety which
pervaded us all the day ceased not to operate at night.

The garrison of Bayonne, we were well aware, was at once numerically
powerful and composed of the best troops in the French army. From all
that we could learn, Soult had by no means calculated upon the plan of
operations adopted by Lord Wellington. Concluding that the Marquess
would halt after the passage of the Adour, and invest that important
place with the whole of his forces, he had thrown into it fifteen
thousand picked men, assigning the command to General Thouvenot--an
officer who, by his successful defence of Burgos on a former occasion,
appeared worthy of so delicate a trust on the present. Lord
Wellington, however, knew too well how much depended in war on celerity
of movement to waste his time under the walls of Bayonne. He therefore
left Sir John Hope to mask the place with two British divisions, and
taking the remainder with himself, hung upon the rear of the retreating
enemy. These two divisions, which composed his left wing, were indeed
supported by a considerable force of Spaniards. But not even now could
much reliance be placed on Spanish troops; though it is just to add,
that they were much upon the alert at the outposts, and patient under
privations and hardships. The task assigned to Sir John Hope was not
therefore an easy one. With some thirty thousand men of all arms,
of whom only one-half might be fully trusted, he drew his lines of
circumvallation round a well-fortified town, the _enceinte_ of which
could not measure less than four English miles, and towards which he
did not as yet venture to push his pickets nearer than one mile, or
perhaps more, from the glacis.

It was felt by him, and indeed by all, that vigilance could not under
the circumstances be too keen or too constant. The besieged, moving
upon an interior line, had it in his power to throw at any moment a
superior force upon the besiegers; hence, especially for the first few
days and nights, officers and men alike kept themselves, so to speak,
constantly on the stretch of expectation. On the 25th, for example,
as all seemed to be quiet in front, we lay down at the usual hour and
slept. Our camp was pitched under the lee of a sand-hill; and just
over its brow, and at the base beyond, our pickets were posted. It was
still early, an hour or two from midnight, when a musket-shot in the
direction of the pickets roused us. There was no time to consider,
because the enemy, if a sortie was intended, would be upon us in a
moment; so we sprang from our pallets, and each dressing hastily, and
seizing his weapons, we ran to the place of muster. And now another
and another shot broke the stillness of the night. The bugles began to
sound, the baggage was hastily packed, the horses were saddled, and all
the bustle and hurry attendant upon the preparations for battle took
place. For myself, having seen that my men were in their ranks, I ran
to the top of the hill, whence I saw the flashes of several muskets
half-way between our sentinels and those of the enemy; but no sound
of advancing columns met my ear, neither was the fire returned by
our own soldiers. The perplexity occasioned by this state of affairs
was not, however, of long continuance. The officer in command of the
outposts sent in a messenger to say that no symptom of an attack was
discernible, but that several deserters had come into his lines, at
whom the French sentries were firing. This account was confirmed soon
afterwards by the arrival of the deserters in the camp; and the troops
accordingly laid aside their weapons and returned to their tents.

The alarm in that direction had hardly subsided, when another and not
less serious one arose in a different quarter. A sentry who was posted
by the bank of the river reported to his officer when visiting him
that boats were moving and oars splashing in the water. Apprehensions
were immediately excited for the safety of the bridge, against which
we naturally concluded that some attempt was about to be made. To
oppose it as far as possible, of whatever nature it might be, three
field-pieces which were attached to our brigade limbered up, and
galloped to the water's edge. These I accompanied; and certainly
the splash of oars was very audible, though the darkness would not
permit us to distinguish whence the sound proceeded. A few shots were,
however, fired in the direction of the sound, just by way of hinting
to the enemy that we were awake; and whether it was that the hint was
not lost upon them, or that they never seriously entertained the idea
of assailing the bridge, an immediate cessation of rowing was the
consequence. Having watched, therefore, for half an hour, and neither
hearing nor seeing anything indicative of danger, I left the gunners
to themselves, and returning to my cloak and blanket, wrapt myself
closely up, and slept soundly and securely till the morning.

The whole of the 26th passed over without the occurrence of any event
worthy of mention. By myself it was spent, not very profitably, in
sauntering about among the pine-woods, where little or no game was
to be found. For the troops in general, as well within as without
the walls of the beleaguered city, it might be accounted a sort
of armed truce. Hardly a cannon-shot was fired, from sunrise till
sunset, on either side; but matters were drawing to a crisis. Stores
and ammunition were conveyed day and night across the river in large
quantities; and it was manifest that even the few miles of open country
which the garrison still held would before long be taken away from
them. It was therefore no unexpected communication which reached me
on the morning of the 27th, that the corps was to stand to its arms
forthwith, and that the enemy were to be driven in all directions
within their works.

Having in a former chapter described the nature of the ground in our
immediate front, the reader will understand why no serious advance on
our part was intended. We were already within range of the guns on
the ramparts, and between the ramparts and the camp no broken ground
nor village, nor any other species of cover, existed. We could not
therefore hope to establish ourselves had we been pushed on; whereas
the French general, by opening the sluices from the river, might at
any moment lay the whole level under water. On the opposite side of
the Adour the case was different. There the most forward British
pickets were very little in advance of the village of Boucaut; and the
village of Boucaut is full four miles from the citadel. The face of the
country also between the two points being rugged and broken, numerous
positions could be taken up by the besiegers, in which, whilst they
were themselves secure from the fire of the place, they could easily
prevent the garrison from venturing beyond the ditch. Moreover, the
relative situations of the town and fortress rendered the former secure
against active annoyance till after the latter should have fallen into
our hands. Though, therefore, it was understood that the whole of our
line was to be drawn somewhat more tightly round the city, we were all
aware that the trenches would be opened, and breaching batteries thrown
up against the citadel alone.

The men being accoutred and the baggage packed, we stood quietly in our
ranks behind the sand-hill, till a gun from the opposite side of the
stream sounded the signal of attack. Upon this we extended our files
so as to give to a single weak battalion the appearance of an entire
brigade, and, ascending the heights, we stopped short where the tops of
our bayonets and caps just showed themselves over the ridge. Similar
demonstrations were likewise made by the corps which filled Anglete and
crowned the rise in connection with it; whilst occasionally a shout
was raised, as if at length the order of attack had been given, and we
were preparing to rush on. All this was done for the purpose of drawing
the attention of the enemy to many different points at the same time,
and thus hindering them from opposing with the entire strength of the
garrison the forward movements of those who were appointed to invest
the castle.

Whilst we and the divisions near us were thus amusing ourselves and the
enemy with the pomp and circumstance, rather than with the reality, of
war, the Guards and light Germans, with a corps of Portuguese infantry,
were very differently occupied on the other bank of the river. As our
situation was a commanding one, it enabled us to obtain a tolerably
distinct view of their proceedings. We saw one column of British troops
form on the sands beside Boucaut. In front of it was a body of German
riflemen, who pressed leisurely forward in skirmishing order till they
reached a picket of the French troops. Of the enemy, on the other hand,
a heavy column showed itself upon the high ground, where it halted,
and continued to send out numerous parties to support the outposts,
between whom and the Germans a hot skirmish began. But it could not
be said that any decided advantage was gained by either party during
several hours.

The column which we descried upon the sands beside Boucaut was not of
great strength; indeed the numbers of our own people discernible by
us were very inconsiderable. The fact, as I afterwards learned, was,
that the side of the hill visible to us was by far the most rugged
and least assailable of any; consequently the main attack was to be
made in another direction, the attack in this waiting till the other
should have in part succeeded. Hence the trifling progress made by our
skirmishers, who seemed to be kept back rather than animated forward by
their officers; and hence the apparently obstinate resistance of the
French pickets. But it was, nevertheless, an exceedingly interesting
spectacle, to the beauty of which the uneven and picturesque scenery
around added not a little.

I wish I could convey to the mind of the reader some notion of the
scene as it then appeared, and is still remembered by myself. Let him
imagine himself, then, lying with me upon the brow of a sand-hill, and
looking down first upon the broad and deep waters of the Adour, and
over them upon a sandy bank, which speedily ends, and is succeeded
by a green hill, having on its side--the side upon which we are
gazing--frequent cuts or gullies, or glens, some of them bare, others
wooded, with here and there a white cottage showing itself from among
the trees. Let him imagine that he sees on the summit of the heights,
and immediately in a line with himself, a portion of an armed mass,
with a single field-piece pointed towards the river's mouth. About a
mile to the rearward let him figure to himself a green field, more
level than any other part of the hillside--a sort of table-land, as
it were, having a hedge along that face of it which is turned towards
Boucaut, and a precipitous red bank under the hedge. In this field he
will observe about three hundred infantry soldiers dressed in grey
greatcoats and broad caps or shakos, who carry hairy knapsacks on their
backs, and are armed with long clear muskets, which have bayonets
screwed to their muzzles. These are Frenchmen. Under the red bank
let him farther suppose that there is a picturesque valley stocked
with tall and shadowy cork-trees, about the middle of which is a neat
mansion something larger than a farmhouse, yet hardly deserving the
name of a chateau. That house is full of light Germans; and almost
every tree about it affords cover to a rifleman, who fires as a good
aim is presented to him at the persons behind the hedge. From the
windows of the house, likewise, many shots are from time to time
discharged; and the sudden flash and uprising of smoke from various
parts of the hedge show that the French tirailleurs are not less active
than their assailants, or disposed to receive their salute without
returning it. In this skirmish little change of ground takes place.
Occasionally, indeed, a single rifleman will steal on, running from
tree to tree, till he has reached a convenient spot; whilst a Frenchman
will as often rise, and having watched him through a brake or over a
bush, will fire whenever he exposes himself to observation. But no
grand rush is made on either side, nor is any decided loss sustained
either of ground or in men.

All this while the exertions of our people were, as far as might
be, aided by a well-served cannonade from the three pieces of
artillery which had kept their station near the bank of the river
since the evening of the 25th. The fire of these guns was directed
chiefly against a large house--apparently some public work or
manufactory--which stood by the brink of the water, and was filled with
French troops. Neither were the enemy's batteries opposite to us idle.
Having wasted about twenty or thirty round-shot without effect, they
brought a couple of mortars, with a howitzer or two, to bear upon us,
from which they threw shell after shell among our ranks. But from the
effects of the cannonade the nature of the soil secured us, the shells
either burying themselves in the sand to the extinction of the fuze, or
exploding when we were all snugly laid flat, and therefore safe from
their fragments.

Matters had continued thus for an hour or two, and we were beginning
to fear that some part of our General's plan might have gone wrong, or
that the enemy were in too great force to be driven in by the divisions
opposed to them, when a sudden stir in the French column which had
hitherto stood quietly upon the heights attracted our attention. The
field-piece was all at once wheeled round, and turned in the direction
of the opposite country; the infantry collected into compact order, and
were gradually hidden from us by the brow of the hill. By-and-by a few
musket-shots were fired; then about a dozen more; then came the report
of one, two, or three field-pieces; and, lastly, a roar of cannon and
small-arms. This was kept up, hot and rapid, for half an hour. Every
moment the sound came nearer and nearer. Now the smoke, which had at
first followed each report after the interval of a few seconds, rose
at the same instant with the noise; then the glancing of arms over
the high ground was distinguishable; next came the French troops,
some retiring slowly, and firing as they fell back--others fleeing in
extreme confusion. Mounted officers were galloping over the ridge, and
apparently exerting themselves to restore order; but all would not do.
The enemy were in full flight. Down they rushed towards the river, and
away along the sands in the direction of the citadel, whilst our three
guns poured in round-shot among them, some of which we could distinctly
perceive take effect. And now the green field on which my reader and I
have so long looked was abandoned. The tirailleurs fled--the riflemen
pursued--the little column in scarlet pushed on in good order and with
a quick pace--and on the brow of the height above a British ensign was
held up as a signal for our battery to cease firing. The signal was
obeyed, and we had nothing farther to do during the remainder of the
day than to watch, which we eagerly did, the progress of our victorious
comrades.

The enemy having fled as far as the manufactory, were there joined by
reinforcements from the garrison. Here, then, the battle was renewed
with great obstinacy; but stern as was the resistance offered, it
became every hour less and less effectual. At length the building took
fire; it was abandoned, and its defenders fled; after which the entire
scene of action was hidden from us, and we were enabled to guess at
the state of affairs only by the sound of firing and the direction
which it took. That inclined every moment more and more towards the
ramparts. But it continued without intermission till darkness had set
in, when both parties were compelled to desist because they could not
distinguish friends from foes.

In this affair the loss on both sides was considerable; but we were
completely successful. The enemy were driven within their works, and
our advanced-posts were established in the village of St Esprit, about
half-pistol-shot from the nearest redoubt. In other directions little
change of ground occurred. Some Spanish divisions took up a position, I
believe, somewhat less distant than formerly from the walls of Bayonne;
but neither we nor the divisions in communication with us were in any
degree affected by it. We returned, on the contrary, to our tents,
having lost by the cannonade only one man killed and three wounded.

I stated in another part of my narrative that, except on one occasion,
I could not tax my memory with any symptom of violent or permanent
grief on the part of a soldier's wife at the death of her husband. The
case to which I then alluded occurred to-day. A fine young Irishman,
the pay-sergeant of my own company, had brought his wife with him to
the seat of war. He married her, it appeared, against the wish of her
relatives, they considering themselves in a walk of life superior to
his. To what class of society they belonged I cannot tell; but she, I
know, was a lady's-maid to some person of rank, when the handsome face
and manly form of M'Dermot stole her heart away. They had been married
about a year and a half, during the whole of which time she had borne
the most unblemished character, and they were accounted the happiest
couple in the regiment. Poor things! they were this day separated for
ever.

M'Dermot was as brave and good a soldier as any in the army; he was at
times even foolhardy. Having observed a recruit or two cower down in no
very dignified manner as a cannon-ball passed over them, M'Dermot, by
way of teaching them to despise danger, threw himself at his ease on
the summit of the sand-hill, with his head towards the enemy's guns.
He was in the act of laughing at these lads, assuring them that "every
bullet has its billet," when a round-shot struck him on the crown of
the head and smashed him to atoms. I shall never forget the shriek that
was raised. He was a prodigious favourite with all ranks; and then all
of us thought of his poor young wife, so spotless, and so completely
wrapped up in him. "Oh, who will tell Nance of this?" said another
non-commissioned officer, his principal companion. "Poor Nance!" cried
the soldiers, one and all; so true is it that virtue is respected, and
a virtuous woman nowhere more beloved than among British soldiers. But
there was no hiding it from Nance. The news reached her, heaven knows
how, long before we returned to our tents, and she was in the midst of
us in a state which beggars all description in five minutes after the
event took place.

I cannot so much as attempt to delineate the scene that followed. The
poor creature was evidently deranged, for she would not believe that
the mangled carcass before her was her husband; and she never shed a
tear. "That! oh, that is not he!" cried she; "that M'Dermot!--my own
handsome, beautiful M'Dermot! Oh no, no--take it away, or take me away,
and bring me to him!" She was removed with gentle violence to the camp,
and the body was buried, a young fir-tree being planted over it.

Several days passed before Mrs M'Dermot was sufficiently calm to look
her situation in the face. But at last the feeling of utter desolation
came over her; and instead of listening, as women in her position
generally do, to the proposals of some new suitor, all her wishes
pointed homewards. To her home she was accordingly sent. We raised
for her a handsome subscription, every officer and man contributing
something; and I have reason to believe that she is now respectably
settled in Cork, though still a widow.




CHAPTER XXIII.


From the date of the occurrences just described--namely the 27th of
February--the siege of Bayonne may be said to have fairly commenced. To
follow in regular detail the events of each day as it proceeded would
not, I am sure, greatly interest my readers; and to lay such detail
before them would be to myself an occupation little less irksome than
it sometimes was to kill the tedious hours of a ten weeks' blockade.
I may be permitted, therefore, to state generally, and in few words,
that the strictest investment was continued all the while, and that
an extremely harassing kind of duty was imposed upon us till the
siege and the war were brought to an end together by the hoisting of
the white flag on the 28th of the following April. Premising this, I
shall merely take the liberty of narrating, without regard to dates or
natural order, such incidents and adventures as appeared to myself best
deserving of record at the time.

In the first place, then, it may be observed that, while on our
side of the river no other works were erected than such as appeared
indispensable for strengthening our own position, and rendering the
bridge and the highroad, and the stores brought up by them, secure, the
Guards and Germans on the other side were busily employed in digging
trenches, and pushing forward active operations against the citadel.
These, as may be imagined, they were not permitted to carry on without
being annoyed in every practicable manner by the besieged. A continual,
or rather a dropping and irregular fire of cannon, was kept up upon
their parties from the ramparts, to which even the darkness of the
night brought no cessation; for blue-lights were thrown out wherever
the people were at work, the flame of which guided the artillerymen
in taking aim. Nor were we wholly exempt from that species of
entertainment. On the contrary, as the erection of a three-gun battery
on the top of our hill was deemed necessary, we worked at it by turns
till it was completed; and, as a matter of course, we worked under the
fire of all the cannon and mortars which could be brought to bear upon
us. These working parties are by far the most unpleasant of all the
employments to which a soldier is liable. There is in them nothing of
excitement, with a great deal of danger; and danger, where there is no
excitement, no man would voluntarily choose to incur for its own sake.
Let me describe one of these mornings' amusements.

It fell to my lot frequently to superintend the people when at work.
The spot on which we laboured was high, and therefore completely
exposed to the view of the enemy. It was the top of the hill opposite
to them. Immediately on our arrival, a four-gun battery, with one
howitzer and two nine-inch mortars, began to play upon us. They were
well served, for the balls hit apparently in every quarter except the
particular spots on which each of us stood. On such occasions, if
there be no very pressing demand for the completion of the work, you
generally station one of your party to watch. As soon as he perceives
a flash he calls out--"Shot," or "Shell," as the case may be. If it be
simply a cannon-shot, you either toil on without heeding it, or having
covered yourself as well as you can till the ball strike, you start
up again and seize your tools. If it be a shell, you lie quite still
till it burst. The unmilitary reader may perhaps question whether it
be possible to tell the nature of the missile which is coming against
you, when as yet it has barely escaped from the muzzle of the gun,
and is still a mile or more distant; but he who has been in the habit
of attending to these matters will entertain no such doubt. Not to
mention the fact that an experienced eye can trace, by means of the
burning fuze, the whole journey of a shell through the air, from its
expulsion till its fall, the more perpendicular flight of the smoke may
of itself inform him who takes the trouble to observe when it issues
from a mortar; and there is a sharpness in the report of a gun which
will effectually distinguish the one from the other, even if the sense
of sight should fail. I have heard men assert that they can trace, not
only a shell, but a cannon-ball through the air. This may be possible;
but if it be, it is possible only to those whose sense of sight is far
more acute than mine.

Though abundantly annoying, the cannonade of which I am speaking
proved but little destructive of human life. I do not believe, though
continued for several weeks, it cost us five men. Neither was an
attempt which the enemy by-and-by made to shell us out of our position
more successful. Hidden from their view by the sand-hills, we lay
exposed only to such aim as a calculation of distances might enable
their gunners to take; and this, besides that it was not always very
accurate, had, in the nature of the soil on which our tents stood,
much to defeat it. Shells falling among loose sand bury themselves
so far into the ground as to take away a good deal from the force of
their destructiveness. Probably the French artillerists guessed, from
the perfect indifference with which we treated them, that they were
wasting their ammunition. At all events, they slackened their fire by
degrees, and by-and-by restrained it altogether.

Unless my memory greatly deceive me, the chief subject of complaint
amongst us at this time was that we were fettered to one spot, and
that there was not in our situation peril or excitement enough to
hinder us from feeling the confinement as a grievous restraint. Though
tolerably secure, from the nature of the ground, our post was one of
vast importance--that is to say, had the enemy succeeded in forcing
it, they might have easily made their way to the bridge ere any fresh
troops could be brought to oppose them. Under these circumstances, it
was considered imprudent to wander far or frequently from the tents;
and hence even the resource of fishing and shooting was in a great
measure taken away from us. My friend and I did indeed occasionally
venture into the woods; but these excursions were too rare to be very
profitable, and our limits too confined to furnish an abundance of game.

The reader is not, however, to suppose that all our days and night
partook of the same tame character. Independently of the usual round
of outpost duty (a duty which, to me at least, was never irksome,
because it always served to keep my interest awake), a deserter would,
from time to time, come over, and bring with him rumours of sorties
intended. One of these brought with it a more than ordinary degree of
excitement. We were sitting one Sunday evening, Grey and myself, in
the upper loft of an old mill, where, by way of an indulgence, we had
established ourselves. The commanding officer had read prayers to the
battalion about half an hour previously, and the parade had just been
dismissed, when a sergeant clambered up the ladder to inform us that
the servants and batmen were commanded to sleep accoutred, that the
horses were to be saddled, and the baggage in readiness to move at a
moment's notice. On inquiring into the cause of this order, we learned
that a French officer had arrived in camp, that he had brought with him
intelligence that a sortie would take place a little before midnight,
and that the garrison were already making preparations for the attack.
As may be supposed, we put everything in proper trim forthwith; and
having seen that our men lay down, with knapsacks buckled up, and
pouches and bayonets slung on, we too threw ourselves on the floor in
our clothes.

It might be about eleven o'clock when we were startled from our repose
by the firing of cannon. The sound was, however, distant: it evidently
came from the opposite side of the river, and it was followed by no
musketry. We watched it, therefore, for a while, anxiously enough,
and sat up prepared to issue forth as soon as our presence might be
required. But no bugle sounded, nor was any other summons given; so
we lay down again, and the night passed by in peace. I have reason
to believe, however, that the French officer had not deceived us. An
attack upon our position had been seriously intended, and the plan was
abandoned only because this officer being missed, it was conjectured
that we should be fully prepared to repel it.

Another little affair took place soon afterwards. Whether our posts on
the left of Anglete had been of late pushed somewhat more in advance
than formerly I cannot tell; but the enemy sent a message one morning
by a flag of truce to the officer in command, desiring that he would
fall back, otherwise they would compel him. The demand was of course
met by a peremptory refusal, and they, having allowed him an hour
to change his mind, proceeded to carry their threat into execution.
A considerable body of light troops attacked the post, and a sharp
skirmish ensued. The sound of firing soon drew assistance to our
picket; and the result was, that the French once more retired within
their works, leaving us in possession of the disputed ground. This
event, with many others which I have not recorded, because they have
in them even less of interest, occurred during the remaining days of
February and the whole of March. On the 1st of April our position was
changed, and we took from that period a more active part in the conduct
of the siege.

The change of ground to which I now allude proved, at least for a day
or two, extremely agreeable to the corps in general. My friend and
myself had, indeed, as I have already stated, fixed our abode in an old
mill--close to the camp, yet sufficiently apart from it to be freed
from the bustle. It was a ruinous and dilapidated mansion, I admit;
our living and sleeping chamber consisting simply of one half of a
loft, and only of one half, because the flooring of the other half had
given way; to which we ascended by means of a ladder or trap-stair, and
from which we looked down upon our horses and mules that occupied the
basement story. But in that old mill, the tiling of which was unsealed,
and can hardly be said to have been proof against the weather, I spent
some weary and many more pleasant evenings; for, ruinous as it was, it
appeared comfortable to men who repaired to it from the sandy ground on
which they had previously spent several days and nights under cover of
the canvas. Though, therefore, I cannot accuse myself of murmuring at
the removal of the camp, it is quite certain that I partook not in the
general rejoicing which the occurrence produced among my comrades; or
that the beauty of the spot to which my tent was transferred at all
compensated for the loss of a boarded floor and a detached habitation.

It was, however, a delightful change to the majority. During the last
week or ten days the heat of the sun had become exceedingly oppressive,
beating, as it did, through the white canvas, and having its rays
reflected back on all hands from a grey sandy soil. Not a tree grew
near to shelter us; nor was there a blade of grass within sight on
which the weary eye could repose. On the 1st of April we retired about
a couple of miles into the heart of a pine-wood, and left the sand-hill
to be guarded by the pickets alone. Our tents were pitched in a sweet
little green vale, overshadowed with the dark foliage of the fir-trees,
and near the margin of a small lake or pond of clear water. Here we
remained in a state of comparative idleness and enjoyment for three
days--running and leaping, and causing the men to run and leap for
prizes--till an order arrived in the evening of the 3d, that we should
be under arms at daybreak on the morrow, and cross the bridge to take
part in the fatigues and dangers of the trenches.

At an early hour on the 4th we formed into marching order and took
the direction of the bridge. This we crossed, the planks waving and
bending as the cables swung to and fro with our tread; and then filing
to the right, we halted in an open field above the village of Boucaut,
where the ground of encampment was marked out. It was a day of heavy
rain, so we were thoroughly saturated by the way; and as several hours
elapsed ere the baggage came up, we were compelled to continue in that
uncomfortable plight all the while. It came at length, however, and
our tents were pitched; after which, having substituted dry for wet
apparel, I spent the rest of the evening in lounging among the numerous
stalls and booths which surrounded the market-place.

The village of Boucaut presented at this period a curious spectacle.
It was not deserted by its inhabitants--all, or the greater number of
whom, remained quietly in their houses. Their little shops were not
closed; the inns--for there were two in the place--so far from being
abandoned, were thronged with customers; cooks, waiters, landlady,
and mine host were all in motion from morning till night; and crowds
of peasantry came and went all day long laden with eggs, butter,
cheese, poultry, and other luxuries. These articles of merchandise
were exposed for sale in the centre of the market-place--a large
square surrounded by high walls, along the sides of which sutlers'
tents, porter booths, confectioners' stalls, and even tables loaded
with hardware, shoes, stockings, &c., were laid out in regular order.
The place was, moreover, full of people--soldiers, camp-followers,
villagers, peasants, male and female; and much laughing and great
merriment prevailed in every direction. To a mere spectator there was
constant food for amusement; in the fruitless endeavours of an English
soldier, for example, to make love to a pretty French girl; or in the
vain efforts of a staid German to overreach some volatile but mercenary
villager; whilst the ceaseless gabbling in all European tongues--the
attempts made on all hands to carry on by signs that conversation to
which the faculty of speech lent no assistance;--to watch these, and
a thousand other extravagances, furnished ample and very agreeable
employment to one who was willing to find amusement where he could. Yet
with all this apparent confusion the greatest regularity prevailed.
Not a single instance of violence to a native, either in person or
property, occurred; indeed, both men and women scrupled not to assure
us that they felt themselves far more secure under our protection than
they had been while their own countrymen were among them.

It was our business, so long as the camp stood here, to move up every
morning to the front, and to work in turns at the erection of batteries
and redoubts, within half musket-shot of the walls of the citadel. The
spot where I usually found myself stationed when my turn of duty came
round, was a chateau situated upon the brow of an eminence, from the
windows and garden of which I obtained a distinct view of one flank of
the castle. Upon this building an incessant fire of round-shot, shells,
grape, and occasionally of musketry, was kept up. The enemy had upon
their walls a number of long swivel-guns, which they could elevate or
depress, or turn in any direction at will, and with which as perfect an
aim could be taken as with an ordinary carbine. These threw with great
force iron balls of about a quarter of a pound weight. Beside them men
were always stationed, who watched our movements so closely that it was
impossible to show so much as your head at a window, or over the wall,
without being saluted by a shot; whilst from time to time a nine-inch
shell would tumble through the roof, and burst sometimes before we
had time to escape into another apartment. Then the crashing of the
cannon-balls as they rushed through the partitions--the occasional
rattle of grape and canister which came pouring in by the windows,--all
these things combined, produced a species of feeling of which no words
can convey an adequate notion to him who has not experienced it. It
was not terror--it can hardly be called alarm, for we followed our
occupations unceasingly, and even our mirth was uninterrupted; but it
kept the mind wound up to a pitch of excitation from which it was by no
means an unpleasant matter to relieve it.

Ours was a mortar-battery. It was formed by heaping up earth against
the interior of the garden wall, and proceeded with great rapidity. We
likewise cut down trees, and constructed out of their branches fascines
and gabions; but we had nothing to do in the trenches. Of these,
indeed, not more than a couple were dug, the uneven nature of the
ground producing numerous valleys and hollows, which saved us a great
deal of toil, and very sufficiently supplied their place.

Besides taking charge of working parties, it came occasionally to my
turn to command a picket. The post of which I was put in charge was the
village of St Esprit, and the church formed the headquarters of the
guard. It was a small building, but, fortunately for us, constructed
with great solidity, inasmuch as it stood under the very muzzles of
half-a-dozen field-pieces, which the enemy had placed in a redoubt
about a short stone's-throw distant. To add to its strength, and to
render it more tenable in case of attack, an embankment of earth--of
earth carried from the churchyard, and so mixed with the mouldering
bones of "the rude forefathers of the village"--was raised inside, to
the height of perhaps four feet, above which ran a line of loopholes,
cut out for the purpose of giving to its garrison an opportunity of
firing with effect. When I say that the church formed the headquarters
of the guard, I mean that the guard took up its station there during
the night. So long as daylight lasted the men kept as much as possible
concealed behind a few houses in the rear of the building, and left
only a single sentinel there to watch the movements of the enemy.

A little to the right of my post were a couple of barricades, the
one cutting off the main road, the other blocking up the entrance
to a cross-street in the village. Beside these respectively stood a
six-pounder gun. They were, I should conceive, about long pistol-shot
from the walls of the castle, and formed our most advanced stations.
Our line of sentinels ran through the churchyard and streets, winding
away by the right and left as the shape of the place required; and they
were planted as close to one another as the occurrence of trees, or
other species of cover, would permit. For the French were no longer the
magnanimous enemy we had found them in the open field. Every man, no
matter whether a sentry or a lounger, who could be seen, was fired at;
nor could the reliefs be carried on as under ordinary circumstances.
No corporal's party marched round here, but the men themselves stole
one by one to the particular spots allotted to them, those whom they
came to relieve stealing away after a similar fashion. Yet even thus we
seldom returned to the camp without bringing a wounded man or two back
with us, or leaving a dead comrade behind.

At night the utmost vigilance was necessary. The enemy were so close to
us that the slightest carelessness on our part would have given them
free and secure access through our chain--a circumstance which rendered
it impracticable for the vedettes to give sufficient warning to men
who should not be at every moment in a state of preparation. No man
slept, or so much as lay down. The privates stood round the embankment
within the church, as if they had been all on watch; the officer crept
about from place to place in front of it, or listened with deep anxiety
to every sound. In these wanderings the conversation of the French
soldiers could be distinctly overheard, so near were the troops of the
two nations to each other, and so perilous, or rather so momentous, was
the duty which we were called upon to perform.




CHAPTER XXIV.


The blockade of Bayonne being now decidedly converted into a siege,
Sir John Hope very justly determined that every brigade of British and
Portuguese troops--in other words, every brigade upon which he could
at all depend--should take by turns a share in the fatigue and danger
attendant upon the progress of operations. The tour of duty allotted
to each was accordingly fixed at three days. In consequence of this
arrangement, we, who had assumed the care of the works and outposts on
the 4th, were relieved on the evening of the 7th; and, at an early hour
on the morning of the 8th, once more turned our faces in the direction
of the pine-wood. The tents which we had pitched in the vicinity of
Boucaut were not, however, struck. These we left standing for the
benefit of a brigade of Portuguese, which crossed the river to succeed
us; and hence, instead of halting where we originally sojourned beside
the pond, and under the shadow of the fir-trees, we pushed on as far
as the outskirts of Anglete. The morning of the 8th chanced to be
uncommonly dark and foggy. It so happened, moreover, that a man who had
got drunk upon duty the night before was doomed to suffer punishment as
early as circumstances would allow; and the battalion, having reached
what was supposed to be its ground, formed square in a green field for
the purpose. Partly in consequence of the density of the fog, which
rendered all objects at the distance of fifty yards invisible, and
partly because the country was altogether new to us, we lost our way.
Our astonishment may therefore be conceived, when, on the clearing away
of the mist, we found ourselves drawn up within less than point-blank
range of the enemy's guns, and close to the most advanced of our own
sentinels in this part of the line.

For a moment or two we were permitted to continue thus unmolested,
but not longer. The breastworks in front of us were speedily lined
with infantry; mounted officers arrived and departed at speed; a few
field-pieces, being hurried through a sally-port, were posted upon
the exterior of the glacis, and then a sharp cannonade began. It was
quite evident that the enemy expected an assault; and the accidental
appearance of two other British brigades, which chanced at the moment
to pass each other in our rear, added strength, without doubt, to that
expectation. The scene was highly animating; but the enemy's guns were
too well served to permit our continuing long spectators of it. A ball
or two striking in the centre of the square warned us to withdraw; and
as we were clearly in a situation where we were never meant to be,
as well as because no act of hostility was on our part intended, we
scrupled not to take the hint, and to march somewhat more to the rear.
There a certain number of houses was allotted to us, and we again found
ourselves, for the space of four days, under cover of a roof.

We were thus situated when a messenger extraordinary arrived at the
quarters of the commanding officer about midnight on the 11th of April,
with intelligence that the Allies were in possession of Paris, and that
Buonaparte had abdicated. It would be difficult to say what was the
effect produced upon us by the news. Amazement--utter amazement--was
the first and most powerful sensation excited. We could hardly credit
the story; some of us even went so far for a while as to assert that
the thing was impossible. Then came the thought of peace, of an
immediate cessation of hostilities, and a speedy return to our friends
and relatives in England; and last, though not with the least permanent
influence, sprang up the dread of reduction to half-pay. For the
present, however, we rather rejoiced than otherwise at the prospect
of being delivered from the irksome and incessant labour of a siege;
and we anticipated with satisfaction a friendly intercourse with the
brave men against whom we had so long fought, without entertaining one
rancorous feeling towards them. I fear, too, that the knowledge of what
had passed in Paris caused some diminution in the watchfulness which
we had hitherto preserved; at least I cannot account upon any other
principle for the complete surprisal of our outposts in the village of
St Esprit a few nights subsequently.

The messenger who conveyed this intelligence to us went on to say that
Sir John Hope had despatched a flag of truce to inform the Governor of
Bayonne that there was no longer war between the French and British
nations. General Thouvenot, however, refused to credit the statement.
He had received, he said, no official communication from Marshal
Soult; and as he considered himself under the immediate command of
that officer, even a despatch from the capital could have no weight
with him unless it came backed by the authority of his superior. Under
these circumstances no proposals were made on either side to cease
hostilities, though on ours the troops were henceforth exempted from
the labour of erecting batteries, in which it was very little probable
that guns would ever be mounted. In other respects, however, things
went on as they had previously done. The pickets took their stations
as usual; all communications between the garrison and the open country
was still cut off; and several families who sought to pass through our
lines were compelled to return into the town. This last measure was
adopted, as it invariably is when a city is besieged, in order not to
diminish the number of persons who must be fed from the stores laid up
in the public arsenals.

Though there was peace in Paris, there was no peace before Bayonne.
Our brigade having enjoyed its allotted period of rest, prepared to
return to its camp beside Boucaut, for which purpose a line of march
was formed on the morning of the 12th; and we again moved towards
the floating bridge. As yet, however, our services at the outposts
were not required; and as working parties were no longer in fashion,
we spent that and the succeeding day peaceably in our camp. Not that
these days were wholly devoid of interesting occurrences. During the
latter a French officer arrived from the north, bearing the official
account of those mighty transactions which once more placed his country
under the rule of the Bourbons; and him we sent forward to the city,
as the best pledge that could be offered for the truth of our previous
statements, and of our present amicable intentions. Still General
Thouvenot disbelieved, or affected to disbelieve, the whole affair;
but he returned an answer by the flag of truce which accompanied the
aide-de-camp, "that we should hear from him on the subject before long."

It will be readily believed that the idea of future hostilities was
not, under all these circumstances, entertained by any individual of
any rank throughout the army. For form's sake, it was asserted that
the blockade must still continue, and the sentinels must still keep
their ground; but that any attack would be made upon them, or any
blood uselessly spilled, no man for a moment imagined. The reader may
therefore guess at our astonishment, when, about three o'clock in the
morning of the 14th, we were suddenly awoke by a heavy firing in front;
and found, on starting up, that a desperate sortie had taken place, and
that our pickets were warmly engaged along the whole line. Instantly
the bugles sounded. We hurried on our clothes and accoutrements. The
horses came galloping in from their various stables; the servants and
batmen busied themselves in packing the baggage; and then hastily
taking our places, we marched towards the point of danger, and were
hotly and desperately in action in less than a quarter of an hour.

The enemy had come on in two columns of attack--one of which bore down
upon the church and street of St Esprit; while the other, having forced
the barricade upon the highroad, pressed forward towards the chateau
where our mortar-battery was in progress of erection. So skilfully
had the sortie been managed, that the sentries in front of both these
posts were almost all surprised ere they had time, by discharging their
pieces, to communicate an alarm to those behind them. And hence it came
to pass that, amid the obscurity of a dark night, the first intimation
of danger which the pickets received was given by the enemy themselves,
who, stealing on to the very edge of the trench within which our men
were stationed, fired down upon them. In like manner the sergeant's
guard which stood beside the gun in the village was annihilated, and
the gun itself captured; whilst the party in the church were preserved
from a similar fate only in consequence of the care which had been
taken to block up the various doorways and entrances, so that only one
man at a time might make his way into the interior. It was, however,
surrounded and placed in a state of siege, and gallantly defended by
Captain Forster of the 38th Regiment and his men.

Just before the enemy sallied out, a French officer, it appeared, had
deserted. Unfortunately, however, he came in through one of the more
remote pickets, and hence those which were destined to receive the
shock reaped no benefit from the event. His arrival at headquarters
had, however, the effect of putting Sir John Hope on his guard; so that
greater preparations to meet the threatened danger were going forward
than we, on whom it came unexpectedly and at once, imagined. Five
hundred men, for example, who formed a sort of reserve about a mile in
rear of the outposts, were in full march towards the front when the
firing began; and the enemy were in consequence checked before they
had made any considerable progress, or had reached any of our more
important magazines. The blue house, as we were in the habit of naming
the chateau, was indeed carried; and all the piles of fascines and
gabions, which had cost so much labour to construct, were burned; but
besides this, little real benefit would have accrued to the assailants
had the state of affairs been such as to render a battle at this
particular juncture at all necessary or even justifiable.

Immediately on the alarm being given, Sir John Hope, attended by a
single staff-officer, rode to the front. Thither also flew Generals
Hay, Stopford, and Bradford; whilst the various brigades hurried after
them at as quick a pace as the pitchy darkness of the night and the
rugged and broken nature of the ground would permit. Behind them,
and on either hand, as they moved, the deepest and most impervious
gloom prevailed; but the horizon before them was one blaze of light.
I have listened to a good deal of heavy firing in my day, but a more
uninterrupted roar of artillery and musketry than was now going on I
hardly recollect to have encountered.

As the attacking party amounted to five or six thousand men, and
the force opposed to them fell somewhat short of one thousand, the
latter were, of course, losing ground rapidly. The blue house was
carried--the highroad, and several lanes that ran parallel with it,
were in possession of the enemy--the village of St Esprit swarmed with
them,--when Sir John Hope arrived at the entrance of a hollow road, for
the defence of which a strong party had been allotted. The defenders
were in full retreat. "Why do you move in that direction?" cried he, as
he rode up. "The enemy are yonder, sir," was the reply. "Well, then,
we must drive them back--come on." So saying, the General spurred his
horse. A dense mass of French soldiers was before him; they fired, and
his horse fell dead. The British picket, alarmed at the fall of the
General, fled; and Sir John being a heavy man--being, besides, severely
wounded in two places, and having one of his legs crushed beneath his
horse--lay powerless, and at the mercy of the assailants. Captain
Herries, his personal attendant on this occasion, did his best to
extricate Sir John from his dilemma. He sprang from his horse, strove
to drag the dead animal aside, and would not listen to the entreaties
of his chief, who besought him to look to his own safety; and he paid
the penalty of his devotion. The French continued to advance. They
fired another volley at the retreating Guardsmen, a shot from which
broke the bone of Captain Herries' leg close to the knee-joint. The
young man fell, and was removed, together with his wounded General, a
prisoner into the city.

Of this sad catastrophe none of the troops were at all aware, except
those in whose immediate presence it occurred. The rest found ample
employment, both for head and hand, in driving back the enemy from
their conquests and bringing succour to their comrades, whose unceasing
fire gave evidence that they still held out in the church of St Esprit.
Towards that point a determined rush was made. The French thronged the
street and churchyard, and plied our people with grape and canister
from their own captured gun. But the struggle soon became more close
and more ferocious. Bayonets, sabres, the butts of muskets, were in
full play; and the street was again cleared, the barricade recovered,
and the gun retaken. But they were not long retained. A fresh charge
was made by increased numbers from the citadel, and our men were
again driven back. Numbers threw themselves into the church as they
passed, among whom was General Hay; whilst the rest gradually retired
till reinforcements should come up, when they resumed the offensive,
and with the most perfect success. Thus was the street of St Esprit,
and the field-piece at its extremity, alternately in possession of the
French and the English--the gun being taken and retaken not fewer than
nine times between the hours of three and seven in the morning.

Nor was the action less sanguinary in other parts of the field. Along
the sides of the various glens, in the hollow ways, through the
trenches, and over the barricades, a deadly strife went on. At one
moment the enemy appeared to carry everything before them; at another,
they were checked, broken, and dispersed; but the darkness was so great
that confusion everywhere prevailed: nor could it be ascertained, with
any degree of accuracy, how matters would terminate.

At last day began to dawn, and a scene was presented of great disorder
and horrible carnage. Not only were the various regiments of each
brigade separated, but the regiments themselves were split up into
little parties, each of which was warmly and closely engaged with a
similar party of the enemy. In almost every direction, too, our men
were gaining ground. The French had gradually retrograded; till now
they maintained a broken and irregular line through the churchyard,
and along the ridge of a hill which formed a sort of natural crest to
the glacis. One battalion of Guards, which had retained its order,
perceiving this, made ready to complete the defeat. They pushed forward
in fine array with the bayonet; and dreadful was the slaughter which
took place ere the confused mass of fugitives were sheltered within
their own gates. In like manner a dash was made against those who still
maintained themselves behind the churchyard wall; and they, too, with
difficulty escaped into the redoubt.

A battle such as that which I have just described is always attended
by a greater proportionate slaughter on both sides than one more
regularly entered into and more scientifically fought. On our part,
nine hundred men had fallen; on the part of the enemy, upwards of a
thousand: and the arena within which they fell was so narrow that even
a veteran would have guessed the number of dead at something greatly
beyond this. The street of St Esprit, in particular, was covered with
killed and wounded; and round the six-pounder they lay in heaps. A
French artilleryman had fallen across it, with a fuze in his hand;
there he lay, his head cloven asunder, and the remains of the handle
of the fuze in his grasp. The muzzle and breech of the gun were
smeared with blood and brains; and beside them were several soldiers of
both nations, whose heads had evidently been dashed to pieces by the
butts of muskets. Arms of all sorts, broken and entire, were strewed
about. Among the number of killed on our side was General Hay; he was
shot through one of the loopholes in the interior of the church. The
wounded, too, were far more than ordinarily numerous: in a word, it
was one of the most hard fought and unsatisfactory affairs that had
occurred since the commencement of the war. Brave men fell when their
fall was no longer of use to their country; and much blood was wantonly
shed during a period of national peace.

A truce being concluded between General Colville, who succeeded to the
command of the besieging army, and the Governor of Bayonne, the whole
of the 15th was spent in burying the dead. Holes were dug for them
in various places; and they were thrown in not without sorrow, but
with very little ceremony. In collecting them together various living
men were found, sadly mangled, and hardly distinguishable from their
slaughtered comrades. These were of course removed to the hospitals,
where every care was taken of them; but not a few perished from loss
of blood ere assistance arrived. It was remarked, likewise, by the
medical attendants, that a greater proportion of incurable wounds
were inflicted this night than they remembered to have seen. Many
had received bayonet-thrusts in vital parts: one man, I recollect,
whose eyes were both torn from the sockets and hung over his cheeks;
whilst several were cut in two by round-shot, which had passed through,
yet left them breathing. The hospitals, accordingly, presented sad
spectacles; and the shrieks and groans of the inmates acted with no
more cheering effect upon the sense of hearing than their disfigured
countenances and mangled forms acted upon the sense of sight.

It is unnecessary to remind the reader that, whilst our column of the
army was thus engaged before Bayonne, Lord Wellington, following up
his success at Orthes, had gained the splendid victory of Toulouse.
As an immediate consequence upon that event, the important city of
Bourdeaux was taken possession of by Lord Dalhousie, and declared for
Louis XVIII.; and farther conquests were prevented only by the arrival
of Colonels Cook and St Simon--the one at the headquarters of Lord
Wellington, the other at those of Marshal Soult. By them, official
information was conveyed of the great change which had occurred in
the French capital. An armistice between the two generals immediately
followed; and such an order being conveyed to General Thouvenot, as
he considered himself bound to obey, a similar treaty was entered
into on our side of the theatre of war. By the terms of that treaty
all hostilities were to cease. The two armies were still, indeed,
kept apart; nor was any one from our camp allowed to enter Bayonne
without a written pass from the adjutant-general. Foraging parties
only were permitted to come forth from the place at stated periods,
to which limits were assigned, beyond which they were prevented from
penetrating. Yet the truce was regarded by both parties as an armed
one. After so recent an instance of treachery, we felt no disposition
to trust to the word or honour of the French governor; and the enemy
guessing, perhaps, what our feelings were, did not pretend to trust us.
On each side, therefore, a system of perfect watchfulness continued. We
established our pickets and planted our sentinels with the same caution
and strictness as before; nor was any other difference distinguishable
between the nature of those duties now and what it had been a week ago,
except that the enemy suffered us to show ourselves without firing upon
us. So passed several days, till, on the 20th, the war was formally
declared to be at an end.




CONCLUSION.


Little now remains for me to add. My tale of war and its attendant
dangers and enjoyments in this part of the world is told; and I have
nothing left to notice except a few of the most prominent of the
adventures which befell between the period of my quitting one scene of
hostile operations and my arrival at another. These are soon narrated.

Early on the morning of the 28th of April 1814, the whole of the
Allied troops encamped about Bayonne drew up, in various lines, to
witness the hoisting of the white flag upon the ramparts of that
city. The standards of Britain, Spain, Portugal, and of the Bourbons,
already waved together from the summit of every eminence in our camp.
Up to this date, however, the tricolor still kept its place upon the
flagstaff of the citadel; to-day it was to be torn down, and the
"drapeau-blanc" substituted in its room. To us, no doubt, the spectacle
promised to be one of triumph and rejoicing; for we thought of the
gigantic efforts of our country, which alone, of all the nations in
Europe, had uniformly refused to acknowledge the sovereignty of the
usurper; but by the French it was very differently regarded. Even among
the country people not a spark of enthusiasm could be traced; whilst by
the garrison no secret was made of their abhorrence of the new state
of things, and their undiminished attachment to their former master.
But there was no help for it. "La fortune de la guerre," said a French
officer to me one day, as we talked of these matters; but he shrugged
his shoulders as he spoke, and gave no proof that he was satisfied with
its results.

We had stood in our ranks about an hour, dressed in our best attire,
and having our muskets loaded with powder only, when a signal-gun
was fired from one of the batteries of the town, and a magnificent
tricolored flag, which had hitherto waved proudly in the breeze, was
gradually lowered. For perhaps half a minute the flagstaff stood bare;
and then a small white standard, dirty, and, if my eyes deceived me
not, a little torn, was run up. Immediately the guns from every quarter
of the city fired a salute. By such of our people as kept guard at the
outposts that day, it was asserted that each gun was crammed with sand
and mud, as if this turbulent garrison had been resolved to insult, as
far as they could, an authority to which they submitted only because
they were compelled to do so. On our parts the salute was answered
with a _feu-de-joie_ from all the infantry, artillery, and gunboats;
and then a hearty shout being raised, we filed back to our respective
stations and dismissed the parade.

From this date till the general breaking up of the camp, nothing
like friendly or familiar intercourse took place between us and our
former enemies. We were suffered, indeed, by two at a time, to enter
the city with passports; and some half-dozen French officers would
occasionally wander down to Boucaut and mingle in the crowd which
filled its market-place. But they came with no kindly intention. On the
contrary, all our advances were met with haughtiness; and it seemed as
if they were anxious to bring on numerous private quarrels, now that
the quarrel between the countries was at an end. Nor were these always
refused them. More duels were fought than the world in general knows
anything about; and vast numbers were prevented only by a positive
prohibition on the part of the two generals, and a declaration that
whoever violated the order should be placed in arrest and tried by
court-martial.

We were still in our camp by the Adour, when various bodies of Spanish
troops passed through on their return from Toulouse to their own
country. Than some of those battalions I have never beheld a finer
body of men; indeed, many of them were as well clothed, armed, and
appointed as any battalions in the world. But they were, one and all,
miserably officered. Their inferior officers, in particular, seemed
to be mean and ungentlemanly in their appearance; and they possessed
little or no authority over their men. Yet they were full of boasting,
and gave themselves on all occasions as many absurd airs as if their
valour had delivered Spain and dethroned Napoleon.

Like my companions, I embraced every opportunity that was afforded of
visiting Bayonne, and examining the nature of its works. Of the town
itself I need say no more than that it was as clean and regularly
built as a fortified place can well be, where the utmost is to be made
of a straitened boundary; and houses obtain in altitude what may be
wanting in the extent of their fronts. Neither is it necessary that
I should enter into a minute description of the defences, sufficient
notice having been taken of them elsewhere. But of the inhabitants I
cannot avoid remarking that I found them uncivil and unfriendly in the
extreme, as if they took their tone from the troops in garrison, and
were nowise thankful that events had preserved them from the horrors of
an assault.

Our visits to the town, which were not very frequent, inasmuch as they
generally subjected us to insult from a brutal garrison, we varied
with other and more agreeable occupations. The trout began to stir in
the Adour, and the fishing-rods of such as came provided with tackle
of the sort were brought into play. A race-course was marked out on
the sands, near the river's mouth, and the speed of our horses, we
ourselves riding, was tried with excellent effect. We established balls
in the village, whereat the bands of the different regiments performed;
and ladies of all ranks--from the towns and villages near--favoured us
with their company. But never could we thaw the ice that seemed to have
gathered round the hearts of the French officers. They embraced every
opportunity of bringing on personal quarrels, and, as I have already
hinted, though reluctant to accede to the matter at the outset, we came
by degrees to see the necessity of indulging them; and I am inclined to
think that they sometimes got enough of it.

Such was the general tenor of my life from the 20th of April till
the 8th of May. On the latter day the regiment struck its tents, and
marched one day's journey to the rear, where it remained in quiet till
the arrival of the order which sent it first to the neighbourhood of
Bourdeaux, and afterwards to North America.

       *       *       *       *       *

Thus ends the narrative of the adventures of a single year in the life
of a subaltern officer. Whatever may be thought of it by the public,
it has not been compiled without considerable satisfaction by the
narrator; for the year referred to is one on which he now looks back,
and probably shall ever look back, with the melancholy satisfaction
which accompanies a retrospect of happiness gone by. If ever there
existed an enthusiastic lover of the profession of arms, I believe
that I was one. But the times were unfavourable; and he must live for
very little purpose who knows not that enthusiasm of any kind rarely
survives our youth. I loved my profession as long as it gave full
occupation to my bodily and mental powers; but the peace came, and I
loved it no longer. Perhaps, indeed, the kind of feeling which I had
taught myself to encourage was not such as, in the present state of
society, any prudent person is justified in encouraging; for I care
not to conceal that the brightest hopes of my boyhood have all faded,
and that manhood has produced none capable of taking their place. The
friend who shared with me so many dangers and hardships fell at my side
by the hand of an unworthy enemy. The walk of life which I pursued for
a while so merrily has been abandoned; my sabre hangs rusty upon the
wall; and my poor old faithful dog is gathered to her fathers. She lies
under the green sod in a little lawn, on the surface of which she used
to stretch her limbs many a day in the noon-tide sun, after age had
begun to stiffen them. Well, well, all this is as it ought to be. It is
quite right that we should learn the folly of fixing our affections too
strongly upon anything in a scene so shifting and uncertain as human
life; and I suspect that there are few persons who are not taught that
lesson, at least occasionally, long before their prime be past.

Let it not, however, be supposed, that he who thus expresses himself
must therefore be discontented with his lot, or that he murmurs against
the Providence which has cast it for him. By no means. If in my new
mode of existence there be less of excitement and of wild enjoyment
than in my old, at least there is more of calm and quiet gratification.
Other ties, likewise, are around me, different in kind, indeed, but not
less tender than those which time has severed; and if there be nothing
in the future calculated to stir up ambitious longing, there is still
sufficient to defend against discontent. At all events, I am certain
that my present occupations are such as will prove more permanently and
vitally beneficial to others than those which preceded them; and let me
add, that a man need not be accused of fanaticism who is convinced that
to look back upon a life not uselessly spent is the only thing which
will bring him peace at the last.

But enough of moralising, when, in the Minstrel's words, I wish to such
as have honoured my tale with a perusal--

  "To all, to each, a fair good-night,
  And pleasing dreams, and slumbers light."




POSTSCRIPT.


Soon after the first appearance of "The Subaltern" in 'Blackwood's
Magazine,' there were published, in the same able work, lines to the
memory of my faithful dog, which sorrow for the loss of a creature so
dear to me had called forth.

They do not appear to myself to be worthy of republication; but as
others have thought differently, I cannot refuse to give a place to
them in a volume which, indirectly at least, has told how long and how
faithfully Juno served me. I therefore subjoin


MY DOG'S EPITAPH.

  Sleep on, sleep on, thou gentle one!
    Light lie the turf upon thy breast;
  Thy toil is o'er, thy race is run--
    Sleep on, and take thy rest!
  In vain for thee were the 'larum note
  Poured from the bugle's brazen throat--
  The rolling drum thou heedest not,
      Nor noise of signal-gun.
  Let charger tramp or warrior tread
  Over the place of thy narrow bed,
  They will not wake thee from the dead--
      Thy mortal strife is done!

  Sleep on, sleep on, thou faithful slave!
    Unmindful though thy master keep
  His vigils by thy nameless grave,
    And think of thee and weep;
  Not even his voice, beloved of yore,
  That stirred thee when the cannon's roar
  Hath failed to rouse, shall rouse thee more
      Out of thy slumbers deep!
  No more for thee his whistle shrill
  Shall sound through wood, o'er moor and hill--
  Thy cry is mute, thy limbs are still
      In everlasting sleep!
  Sleep on, sleep on! no morrow's sun
    Shall light thee to the battle back;
  Thy fight hath closed, thy laurels won,
    And this thy bivouac.
  On tented field or bloody plain,
  For thee the watch-fire flares in vain--
  Thou wilt not share its warmth again
      With him who loved thee well;
  Nor when with toil and danger spent,
  He rests beneath the firmament,
  Thine eye upon his form be bent,
      Thou trusty sentinel!

  Sleep on, thou friend and comrade tried,
    In battle, broil, and peaceful bower!
  Thou hast left for once thy master's side,
    But never in danger's hour.
  Not thus inactive wert thou laid,
  On that night of perilous ambuscade,
  When levelled tube and brandished blade
      Were at thy master's throat;
  Then fierce and forward was thy bound,
  And proud thy footstep pressed the ground,
  While the tangled greenwood echoed round
      With thy loud warning-note.

  Sleep on, sleep on! it is not now
    The soldier's cloak, a covering meet
  For that kind head--no more art thou
    Couched at a soldier's feet.
  What boots it thee if storms be high,
  Or summer breezes fan the sky?
  Unheeded both will pass thee by,
      They cannot reach thee there;
  Hunger and thirst assail thee not--
  Peril and pain alike forgot--
  Be foul or fair thy master's lot,
      That lot thou canst not share.

  Then sleep; though gladly would I give
    Half of the life preserved by thee,
  Couldst thou, once more, my comrade, live
    Thy short space o'er with me.
  Vain wish, and impotent as vain;
  'Tis but a mockery of pain,
  To dream that aught may bring again
      The spirit that hath flown.
  But years steal by, and they who mourn
  Another's fate, each in his turn
  Shall tread one path, and reach one bourne,--
      Then, faithful friend, sleep on!


THE END.


PRINTED BY WILLIAM BLACKWOOD AND SONS, EDINBURGH.





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