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 Hope¹⁰ 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 me¹¹." 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 officer¹² 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 commander¹³ 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.