9th December—Our picquets driven in—We are nearly outflanked—We retire—A
rally under the eye of Wellington—Lieutenant Hopwood and Sergeant
Brotherwood killed—Excellent feeling between the French and English
soldiers—Consequent General Order—Johnny Castles in the
advance—Picquet-house—Murder at Tarbes—Blanco again—Collection made
for the widow—Battle of Toulouse—“Amende Honourable”—We encamp on the
banks of the Garonne—“Fall in”—The Spaniards make a mistake—General
Picton rectifies it—The enemy retreat into Toulouse—They evacuate the
town—French leave—Theatre of Toulouse—“A Rifleman on the look out.”
ON the 9th of December they drove in the picquets, which were chiefly
furnished from our battalion. The columns of the enemy came briskly
forward with the apparent intention of driving us from our position. Our
company had been ordered to line some brushwood on the side of a lane
that led from the château, where we received them with a fierce and
deadly fire, as they came on, which they replied to with spirit, at the
same time endeavouring to outflank our position. In assisting to repel
this attempt we came in for a shower of shot, and Lieutenant Hopwood and
Sergeant Brotherwood, with several more of our party, were killed on the
spot. By this time they were getting round us, and our opponents
perceiving how few our numbers were, comparatively to their own, at once
attempted to close, and fairly obliged us to take to our heels down a
field. From thence we sprang into the lane; in doing which I remember
dropping my cap, where it remained during the day, until I regained
possession of it on the retreat of the enemy.
At this period Lord Wellington and his staff were watching our motions
through their glasses from the château, which some one made known.
Seeing ourselves under the eye of the Commander-in-chief, we instantly
rallied. Our third battalion meanwhile were hotly engaged on our left.
They, however, found themselves unable to make any serious impression,
and were not sorry, I dare say, when night closed upon their baffled
columns. As to ourselves, we had little respite from the fatigues of the
day, as we were busily employed in fortifying the château for the
anticipated attack of the morrow.
On the following morning however, the enemy retreated within their
works, upon which we took possession of our former ground, where we
found the bodies of Lieutenant Hopwood and of poor Brotherwood, both of
which had been stripped, and covered partially with a little loose
earth.
After this we had a succession of fights or skirmishes with the enemy
for the five or six days following, which is called the battle of
Bayonne, but without eliciting any particular result. We still kept up
an excellent private feeling on both sides at the outposts. As an
instance, although I must remark a general order had been promulgated
prohibiting all intercourse with the enemy on pain of death, our company
was on picquet near a dwelling called Garrett’s house, when we clubbed
half a dollar each, and sent a man into the French picquet-house to
purchase brandy. It was, I recollect, Christmas-night. Grindle, the name
of the man who was our messenger, staying longer than was usual, we
became alarmed, and imagining something must have happened to him, sent
two other men in quest of him. These learnt from the nearest French
sentry that Grindle was lying drunk in their picquet-house. Fearful that
the circumstances should come to the knowledge of Lieutenant Gardiner,
the officer of our picquet, they went and brought Grindle back with them
quite drunk; but just as they were emerging from the French lines, who
should ride down to the front post but Sir James Kempt, who commanded
our division at that time. He instantly ordered Grindle to be confined;
he was so fortunate as to escape, however, with only a slight
punishment.
About the beginning of January, 1814, the enemy were seen advancing, as
we understood, to straighten our lines, that were in a half circle. With
three or four others, I was ordered to hold possession of a small
farm-house that communicated with some cross roads, and to keep up a
brisk fire until the _assemblée_ sounded, in which case we were to
retreat upon the company, who occupied a hedge two hundred yards in our
rear. On our right was a high stone wall, and on our left, in parallel,
was a hedge also that served as a cover for the French who, by this
time, had possession of it. Between was an open field, our only passage.
As soon as the _assemblée_ was heard, we of course, were on the alert to
retreat, but this was to be accomplished only at very imminent risk, for
the moment we showed our noses, we were saluted with a regular hailstorm
of bullets, which put us all in rather moody condition. It was proposed,
however, to retire by independent files.
The first to “run the gauntlet” was a tall, gaunt Irishman, and such a
shower whizzed about him as almost unnerved the rest of us. Johnny
Castles, who had figured at Badajoz with a rope round his neck, and yet
had escaped, was one of the party. He was particularly at a stand-still;
since the “hanging business” he had made up his mind to live for ever,
and had grown fat on it; but his corpulency now threatened to mark him
out.
“Oh, dom your limbs,” growled Johnny, in the true Caledonian dialect,
with an awful grin, “ye are the rascals to drink and carouse with as ye
did yesterday. Eh, look at ’em! dom their eyes, they are sure to hit
me!” and away he bolted, ducking his head, his face half averted all the
way. Johnny, however, was spherical, and puffed and blowed like a whale,
while the French peppered away at him in prime style, the dust rising
from the balls in every direction. Johnny however, escaped, with a brace
of samples through his knapsack and mess-tin, and rolled over the hedge.
Taking advantage of the welcome given to Castles, Gilbert and I, without
allowing them to reload, followed, and as the devil would have it, the
pair of us arrived as safely. There now only remained our comrade Jones,
a good-looking Welshman, who quickly came after us, but he, poor fellow!
was met half-way by a shot.
After all, the enemy never took the house, for by a reinforcement from
the 52nd we beat them back again. I often laugh at the recollection of
Johnny Castles, though I must say, I funked dreadfully. Like the frogs
in the fable, though death to us, it was sport to the French, who kept
roaring with laughter as we bolted by.
Castles, after this affair, could never be induced to drink or hold any
acquaintance with the enemy.
Having remained some four or five months at Arcangues, on the 21st of
February, 1814, the army broke up their cantonments, and marched for
Toulouse. Our battalion, standing in need of new clothing, did not march
with the division, but were ordered into St. Jean de Luz, where we
received them. In the course of some time afterwards we rejoined our
division. This was after the battle of Orthes had been fought, and which
our battalion felt much chagrined in not being present at.
On the 18th of March a circumstance occurred at Plaisance, near the town
of Tarbes, which I cannot help noticing. A French peasant was shot,
under circumstances that fixed the crime upon some of the men of our
company. Although the greatest endeavours were made to discover the
culprit, and the company punished to make them give him up, still it was
without avail. The facts of the case were these. Blanco, the Spaniard,
accompanied by one or two of our men, went out this evening in search of
wine. They entered the house of a peasant who, resisting the intrusion,
struck Blanco, for which the Spaniard instantly shot him on the spot. A
very handsome collection was made for the widow and children of the poor
peasant, for whose distress a very sincere sympathy was entertained by
our battalion. Three months afterwards I was told that Blanco was the
perpetrator of this cruel deed.
The morning we left Plaisance we had a long and dreary march over a
range of hills, until we came to the village of Tarbes, a short distance
beyond which we observed the enemy in possession of a hill both sides of
the road to Toulouse. We were immediately ordered to commence an attack
upon them. Passing on at the “double,” some of our regiments of cavalry
gave us an encouraging huzza as we passed up the road. The French had
thrown up strong entrenchments, and were, to use a nautical phrase,
“tier above tier.” I never remember to have been so warmly engaged as on
this occasion, except at Badajoz. The enemy were in great numbers, our
attacking force few, being only our three battalions of Rifles which
their bullets were fast thinning as we struggled up the hill: still,
although under every disadvantage, the victors of so many hard fights
were not to be repelled, and the French were obliged to retreat. I was
very sorry this day for striking a poor Frenchman whom I came up with,
as I discovered he was badly wounded; but I made the _amende honorable_
by a sup from my canteen, which he received with grace.
We saw but little of the enemy after this, until we came within sight of
Toulouse, where they seemed determined on a resolute stand. We took up
our cantonments on this side of the Garonne in the beginning of April.
The aspect of the country here was very agreeable: it abounded in wine
of a rather superior quality to what had hitherto been served out as our
rations. Although the inhabitants, from Marshal Soult’s orders, had been
obliged to fly on our approach, yet, I am happy to say that our men were
restrained from most of those excesses in the waste and destruction of
property, that had taken place in Portugal and Spain. This was greatly
occasioned by the very excellent general order of Lord Wellington,
published throughout the army at that period, explaining to the troops
that although we were at war with an usurper and his army, we were not
with the inoffensive country-people, who were subjected by fear.
About twelve o’clock on the night of the 9th of April we were ordered to
fall in. We marched to the side of the Garonne, which we crossed by
means of a pontoon bridge, and took up our station behind the walls of a
château about a mile from the town. Having had scarcely any rest the
preceding night, most of our men were buried in profound sleep, when we
were suddenly roused by the most expressive words to the ear of a
soldier—“Fall in.” This was done in an instant, and we were ordered to
advance in double time.
As we proceeded, we heard a heavy firing as if from the left of the
town, and soon after beheld a disorganized mass of Spanish soldiers
flying towards us. At first some of our fellows took them for the
French, and fired among them, by which some lives were lost. They were a
part of the Spanish force who attempted to carry a French fort or
redoubt, from which the enemy had sent them to the right-about faster
than they had come. We continued to approach the town, which was
protected by a long series of fortifications, and that appeared full of
men. On our approaching, they opened a running fire from some
field-works, but with little execution, as we were sheltered by some
trees and walls of houses near the place where we halted. We had not
remained in this quiescent state long, when the thunder of the conflict
was heard going on in full roar on our left: the salvos of artillery,
with the constant cracking of musketry and the rushing sound of shells,
together with the occasional wild “hurra,” formed a very pretty concert.
The scene was still more electrifying when we found it to be the sixth
division engaged in storming batteries, which the Spaniards had just run
from; they at length carried them, after a hard tug, in glorious style;
General Picton’s division was also conspicuously engaged on our right,
close to the river. The general attack was crowned with the Duke of
Wellington’s usual success: the enemy retreating over the bridges of the
canal of Languedoc into the town of Toulouse, while we took possession
of their outworks.
The French army on the second day evacuated Toulouse, as the town was
completely commanded by the batteries we had taken. Our battalion was
ordered to take possession of part of the suburbs, near the canal.
Although there was a strict order that no man should be allowed to go
into the town, my curiosity induced me to take “French leave” to see a
place I had heard so much of; so I managed to elude the vigilance of the
sentry. I found almost all the shops open, and business going on
apparently as if nothing had taken place. Hearing that the theatre was
open, I was induced to pay it a visit: it was very crowded. One box I
perceived very magnificently fitted up, and surmounted by laurel, and
while I was wondering for whose occupation it was intended, my curiosity
was at once allayed by the arrival of the Duke and his staff, who were
received with loud acclamations. “God save the King” was played, and all
appeared to testify the greatest pleasure on the occasion but myself. I,
indeed, I must fairly confess, feared that my insignificance would not
conceal me from the glance of the chief or some of his staff, although
wedged into the centre of a dense crowd in the pit. My dark dress,
however, effectually screened me.