Advance of the light division—Singular nocturnal orgies—Skirmishing
preliminary to the battle of the Nivelle—Details of that
battle—British head-quarters established at St. Jean de Luz—More
skirmishing, and a slight reverse—Combative anecdotes—Advance of
the British line of picquets.
On the evening of the 9th of November, the division received orders
to move during the night, for the purpose of taking up its ground
previously to the attack on the enemy's position in France, on the
following morning. The whole of the ample store of ready-cut wood, (a
portion of which had been split up by the officers to keep themselves
in exercise,) was piled up, and a monstrous fire kindled, which soon
burst into a tremendous blaze, throwing a bright glare on the distant
objects moving between the trees of the forest. At the usual hour, the
owl began to utter her notes, and continued her cries longer than
heretofore; all which was construed into something ominous by Lieut.
Baillie, a sinewy young Highlander, who, with an eagle's wings held on
each shoulder, which he had shot with a single ball a few days before,
recited those tragic lines sung by the witches in _Macbeth_, as we
all joined hands and danced around the crackling faggots, and sang in
chorus, which at intervals was intermingled with the screeches of the
aforesaid owl. The flickering and livid glare of the flames, glancing
on the scarlet uniforms, the red sparks flying over the forest, and the
soldiers packing and beating their knapsacks, gave an unusual wildness
to our midnight orgies.
Before striking our tent, we partook of a comfortable breakfast, after
which we each secured a biscuit, of American manufacture: they were
of a peculiar hardness (nearly an inch thick), so much so, that it
required the stamp of an iron heel, or some hard substance, to break
them. An officer jocularly remarked, while placing one of them under
the breast of his jacket, that it might turn a ball,—which actually
occurred.[9]
During the darkness we got under arms, and moved silently under the
north-west side of la Rhune, by a narrow pathway, which had been cut
at that point to facilitate the passage of the troops to the destined
point of attack, within a few hundred yards of the enemy's outposts.
We had scarcely taken up our ground, when we perceived the flash of a
cannon, fired by the enemy on the high road to Saint Jean de Luz, and
immediately followed by five others from the same spot. The conclusion
was, that these discharges were fired as a signal; for, soon after, we
heard the martial sounds of the French drums beating to arms, over a
great extent of country, _au petit point du jour_: our eyes anxiously
glanced towards the spot, where we expected to see the second brigade
of the division already formed. But nothing seemed to be under the
rough side of the mountain of Siboure, except slabs of rock, when,
all of a sudden, as if by magic, the whole of the fancied rocks were
in motion; and as the haze gradually cleared away, we could see the
soldiers packing the blankets with which they had covered themselves,
having taken up their ground long before us, as they had had a greater
distance to march.
The rising of the sun above the horizon was to be the signal for the
battle of the Nivelle to begin; or, if the weather proved cloudy, the
heavy artillery (which had been dragged with great difficulty through
the pass of Echalar,) were to open on the French occupying a fort,
which had been constructed to block up the break of the ridge of the
Pyrenees leading towards the village of Sare, in France. The sky was
free from clouds, and a sharp cold wind whistled through the barren
and cheerless rocks, whilst all eyes were directed towards the east,
watching the inflamed orb of the sun as he rose to view. Our regiment,
under Major W. Napier, then fixed bayonets, and rapidly moved forward
in column to the assault of the three stone forts on the top of la
Petite la Rhune; two companies rushed forward to skirmish, four formed
into line, and four supported in column. The heavy guns opened at the
puerta de Echalar; part of our brigade moved further to the right; the
second brigade scrambled over the rocks, precipices, and ravines, to
take the enemy in reverse; and the mountain guns fired into the forts
from a ledge of ragged grey rocks.
In a few minutes we reached the summit of the small mountain by a green
slope (not unlike a large breach) within twenty yards of the walls
of the first fort. The soldiers and officers gasped for breath: many
of the former, from the weight of their knapsacks and accoutrements,
staggered and fell, and, before they could recover their limbs, were
pierced with bullets to rise no more; the officers led on in a group
and carried the first fort. The second was then attacked hand to hand,
the French using their bayonets and the butt ends of their pieces; one
of our officers gallantly jumped into the second fort, and a French
soldier thrust a bayonet through his neckhandkerchief, transfixed him
to the wall, and then fired his piece which blew away the officer's
collar, who jumped up unhurt. Another officer, while clambering up the
wall, received a most tremendous blow on the fingers with the butt-end
of a firelock, which made him glad to drop his hold; and we were so
hard pressed, that one or two of the officers seized the dead soldiers'
firelocks and fought with them. Among others, Sir Andrew Barnard of the
rifle corps joined in this hard fight.
As the enemy rushed out of the second fort, a little athletic man with
red hair eagerly followed a French officer; the Frenchman parried two
of his thrusts, but finding his men giving way, he turned suddenly
round and made off, and the soldier, fearing his prey might escape,
hurled his firelock at him; the bayonet flew through the back of his
body, and he fell heavily on his face with the weight of the musket and
the bayonet still sticking in him. Another French officer, who had
shewn a noble example of heroism, stood on the top of the wall with
both his eyes hanging on his cheeks, with his short cloak flapping in
the wind, and not daring to move from his perilous position, lest he
should tumble headlong down the steep precipice of many hundred feet in
depth.
The forts being now carried, I seized the hand of an officer to
congratulate him on his escape; the next instant he was down with a
horrible wound, and a ball grazed my left cheek.
Thus, in ten minutes, six companies assaulted a tremendous post, and
carried three forts at the point of the bayonet. It was one of the best
contested fights I ever saw; but ten officers were killed and wounded,
and nearly a hundred men. General Sir James Kempt, and his gallant
aide-de-camp, the Honourable C. Gore, had urged their horses up the
rocks with hats off, and were cheering us on while carrying the third
fort, when the General was wounded in the wrist of the right arm.
The four companies in support had moved forward at a moderate pace and
in good order, to succour us in case of need; but finding there was
nothing more to be done at this point, and seeing a line of the enemy
in front of a star fort, a few hundred yards distant, they became wild
with impatience to share in the combat, and simultaneously burst into
a run; and it was only by Sir James Kempt's galloping a-head of them
that he could restrain their ardour. He was well aware the movement of
the second brigade would entirely dispossess the enemy of La Petite la
Rhune without further bloodshed.
From this post we had an admirable view of the fourth and seventh
divisions, who had succeeded in capturing the fort opposite St. Barbe,
and were now debouching on the rugged ground, and bringing up their
right shoulders in succession to form a line of battle in front of the
ridge of Sare. The second, third, and sixth divisions formed the right,
coming down the pass of Maya.
The enemy's main position convexed in the centre, and extended about
twelve miles, as the bird flew; but a greater distance to march, owing
to the windings of roads, rivulets, and the steep and barren country
lying towards their centre and left. Their right was posted in front
of Saint Jean de Luz, amid fortified chateaux, farm-houses, villages,
woods, and orchards, converted into formidable abattis, and partly
defended by an inundation, and fifty pieces of heavy artillery. Their
centre rested on the rocky heights of La Petite la Rhune, the ridge of
Sare, and adjacent eminences which were crowned with redoubts. Their
left was stationed on the heights of Ainhoue on the right bank of the
Nivelle, which was also strongly entrenched.
The extreme left of our army consisted of the first and fifth
divisions, Lord Alymer's brigade, a corps of Spaniards, with artillery
and two brigades of cavalry under General Hope[10] to demonstrate and
to guard the high road to Spain, while the centre and left of the army
were employed in more active operations.
The firing and rolling of musketry were now vehement to our right
towards the village of Sare. On the first retreat of the enemy, they
had set fire to some hundreds of huts built of fern and wicker work,
near the rocks of St. Antoine, but soon returned with drums beating the
_pas de charge_, to endeavour to retake them from the Spaniards. The
smoke, however, was so dense, owing to the wind blowing direct in their
faces, that they were forced from the contest, more from the heat of
the flames and downright suffocation than the good management of their
antagonists, who, as usual, plied them with long shots.
As soon as the fourth and seventh divisions were well engaged with the
enemy under General Beresford, aided by the third division moving to
its left, who were combating and driving the enemy up the heights east
of Sare, our division descended from La Petite la Rhune, left in front
for the purpose of attacking the great redoubt in the centre, on the
bare mountain of Esnau, near Ascain. It was defended on all sides by
clouds of skirmishers, engaged with the Caçadores and rifles of our
division. Here Sir Andrew Barnard fell pierced through the body with a
musket-ball amongst the light troops. The rattling of small arms was
incessant and very destructive on the 52nd regiment, under Sir John
Colborne, which suffered a most severe loss while moving round, and to
the rear of the large square redoubt. After some parleying, nearly six
hundred of the 88th French, finding themselves forsaken by their main
body, surrendered prisoners of war; but their commander gave way to the
most bitter invectives.
After nightfall, the flashes of the fire-arms of General Hill's corps
still brightly sparkled, while driving onwards and making their last
efforts and discharges to decide the victory, and turn the left flank
of the enemy,—which obliged them during the night to evacuate St.
Jean de Luz, and retire to Bayonne, leaving fifty pieces of cannon in
their formidable lines in front of the former place. Field-marshal
Wellington directed the attack of the right of our army against the
left of the French.
At night some companies of our division were pushed into a valley on
picquet; and at nine we observed the heather of the camp had caught
fire, illuminating the country for miles around, while the men and
animals were seen gliding about, representing a sort of phantasmagoria.
By degrees the fire reached the base of the hill and ignited a small
forest; and two hours after midnight we were encompassed with a sheet
of flames, crackling and whizzing with terrific violence; and the heat
was so overpowering that we were glad to cross a rivulet, to save
ourselves from being consumed by this conflagration. To add to our
night's misery, my companion was groaning from excessive pain caused by
the rap over the knuckles given him while we were storming the forts.
At ten o'clock on the following day our division edged off to the right
and crossed the Nivelle by a small stone bridge near St. Pé. The whole
army moved forward in three columns, the right marching upon Souraide
and Espelette and taking post on the left bank of the Nive, at Cambo,
Ustaritz, and the vicinity, to watch the enemy on the right bank of
that river; the centre on Arrauntz and Arbonne, and the left crossing
the Nivelle at the town and vicinity of Saint Jean de Luz, and
advancing through Guethary on Bidart, eight miles from Bayonne. In the
afternoon it came on to rain, while we were marching through _le bois
de St. Pé_. The roads were very deep, and we passed the night shivering
and wallowing in the grass and mud of a saturated plantation.
The head quarters of the general-in-chief were now established at
Saint Jean de Luz, an old town situated on the right bank of the river
Nivelle, and within a few hundred yards of the sea coast. Through
this town the high road runs from Spain to Bayonne, the latter place
being strongly fortified and situated at the junction of the Nive with
the Adour. The enemy occupied the farm-houses and villas three miles
in front of the fortress. A morass, which was only passable at two
places covered an entrenched camp which was within cannon shot of the
ramparts of Bayonne. The left of our army fronted the enemy, forming a
line amidst chateaux, farm-houses, woods, heaths, plantations, hedges,
swamps and ditches, as far as the sea-coast, the right being thrown
back towards Ustaritz and Cambo, facing the French who lined the
right bank of the Nive, as far as St. Jean Pied de Port. With the sea
therefore on our left, the river Adour and Bayonne in our front, the
river Nive on our right, and the lofty mountains of the Pyrenees at
our backs—it may fairly be said that the army were in a _cul de sac_.
The great strength of this frontier seems, particularly during the
winter, hardly to be understood; for beyond the river Nive many rapid
rivers cut across, and intersect the muddy country and clayey roads, so
as to make offensive operations very difficult.
The advanced posts of our first brigade were in a church behind the
village of Arcangues, at a château two hundred yards east of it, and
at a cottage half a mile further to the right, situated close to a
lake, on the other side of which was the château of Chenie, on a rising
ground, and enclosed by the small plantation of Berriots, through which
a road runs towards Ustaritz. The second brigade prolonged their line
towards a deep valley which separated them from the fifth division,
holding the plateau, in the neighbourhood of a château on the high road
to Bayonne, six or seven miles in front of St. Jean de Luz.
On the 23rd of November, it was deemed advisable to make some
alteration in our line of posts; accordingly our first brigade formed
at the château behind the village of Arcangues, and four companies
of our regiment advanced to execute the mission entrusted to them;
but, being led on by too great ardor, we came in front of a large
farm-house, strongly entrenched near Bassussarry. Here the musketry
was plied on both sides with unusual vivacity. Having pushed through a
small plantation to our left of the fortified house, we found ourselves
within twenty yards of it. A brave soldier sprang forward before he
could be restrained, and, levelling his piece, cried out, "I have been
at the storming of Rodrigo, Badajoz, and Saint Sebastian; there is no
ball made for me[11]." As soon as he had fired, he fell dead, pierced
with numerous bullets through his head and body.
This was _indeed_ a skirmish; for in a very short time we lost ninety
men killed, wounded, or taken prisoners. A brave young officer[12]
seeing things going hard (and hearing the advance sounded) rushed
across a field to our left, sword in hand, and, outstripping the
company, when close to the enemy, who were formed behind a ditch, was
shot through the head, and tumbled into it a lifeless corpse. The
officer commanding the company jumped into it, and caught him in his
arms; twenty soldiers had also followed and tried to clamber the wet
clayey bank, but could neither do that nor extricate themselves from
this awkward position. Overwhelmed by numbers, they were obliged to
surrender themselves prisoners, as well as the commander[13] of the
company, whose uniform was streaming with blood, while he was still
supporting the dead lieutenant in his arms. We also were so near the
enemy that I was obliged to give orders, in an under tone, for the men
to cease firing, as the French threw twenty bullets to one. Fortunately
the small trees were so thickly set, they could not distinguish us,
and ceased firing, but we could distinctly see them leaning carelessly
over a wall. While they were chattering away, I passed the word to
our soldiers who were lying concealed amongst the small trees, and
underwood, that when I should hold up my pocket handkerchief as a
signal, a volley was to be fired. This took full effect.
A sergeant of ours was lying on his breast, and had scarcely taken
his fusee from the level, when a ball passed in at the centre of his
forehead. He instantly rolled on his back, groaned heavily, and kicked
out his legs, covering the spot with a liquid stream of blood. Sir
James Kempt, ever first in the fight and last out of it, having taken
his station at a house within musket-range, had now ordered a bugler to
sound the "retire," after two hours' fighting; and it was quite time,
for all the companies engaged had sustained a sad loss in killed and
_hors de combat_.
Now came the difficulty—and how to get away without being seen.
Fortunately we found a pathway shrouded by small trees, which we
passed by single files, without uttering a word. On clearing it,
to say that we did not feel glad would be a piece of unnecessary
affectation. The men were covered with mud and sweat, and their faces
and hands blackened by the biting of cartridges; and scarcely a round
of ammunition remained in the pouches. The sergeant, who had been
rather dragged than carried out of the wood, was lying on his back and
still alive, with his eyes closed, perfectly black, and swelled up as
large as a couple of cricket balls; he was frothing at the mouth, and
presenting a horrible sight. The balls were again whizzing past our
ears, and while spreading the blanket out of his knapsack over his
trembling and agitated body, one of the soldiers said "He cannot live
long," when, strange to relate, he raised his arm and waved a pocket
handkerchief crimsoned with gore which he held in his hand!
An officer full of ardor came forward from the regiment to cover some
of the skirmishers on the left; but he was soon shot through the leg,
and the sergeant major into the bargain. The latter was a fine comely
handsome man of about fourteen stone weight, who was now mounted on a
soldier's back with his sword drawn, swearing all the oaths he could
muster; and the sight was so ludicrous, that we were all convulsed with
laughter, to see the two heroes, who had come quite fresh to cover our
retreat, carried off the field in so droll a manner,—while now and
then a stray bullet whistled through the air, by way of a hint that it
was no joke.
Our line of picquets was now advanced; which, I am quite confident,
might have been accomplished without a shot being fired. In the evening
we returned to the village of Arbonne with keen appetites, and heartily
glad to wash the dirt and mire from off our hands and faces.
[Footnote 9: A musket-ball perforated the biscuit, which caused the
bullet, after passing under the fleshy part of the breast, and round
the ribs, to glance off and pierce quite through the thick part of the
left arm.]
[Footnote 10: General Graham having gone to Holland, to take the
command of a separate British force in that country.]
[Footnote 11: This man, made use of similar expressions, while storming
the forts on the 10th of November.]
[Footnote 12: This is the officer who repeated the tragic lines in
Macbeth, while dancing round the fire the night before the battle of
the Nivelle, thirteen days before.]
[Footnote 13: He was made prisoner while travelling through France on
his way to Verdun, his carriage was surrounded by a party of Cossacks,
who were going to pike him, when he luckily made himself understood;
then being conducted to the allied army, he was most kindly treated and
instantly liberated.]