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.