An unproductive alarm—The Duke d'AngoulÊme visits the British army—Orders received by the Duke of Dalmatia—General position of Napoleon's affairs—The author visits Bera on leave of absence—Remarks on the mischiefs committed by camp followers—A scene for contemplation—The author's friends at Bera—Love inimical to harmony—Return to quarters—Movements for penetrating into the interior of France—The author's regiment enters St. Palais, crosses the Gave, and passes through Sauveterre to Orthes.

On the 3rd of January, 1814, a slight affair took place on the river Joyeuse, which caused the army to be put in motion. Our division crossed the Nive by the bridge of Ustaritz, made a day's march and encamped; but nothing further of consequence taking place, we repassed the left of the river, and resumed our old cantonments, in the scattered villas, farm-houses, and cottages about the village of Arrauntz. During this month the Duke d'AngoulÊme took up his abode with the British army at St. Jean de Luz.

The Duke of Dalmatia received an order to detach from Bayonne a large portion of his force of cavalry, artillery and infantry to the succour of Napoleon, who, since his disastrous campaign in Russia, had slowly retrograded through Germany, and after fighting many mighty battles, had been forced to recross the Rhine into France, and was now endeavouring with skeleton numbers, by a series of skilful manoeuvres, combats and diplomacy, to preserve the throne against a host of invaders directed personally by the three crowned heads of Europe, whose banners were at last nailed together and threatening la ville de Paris. There Maria-Louisa, with her infant son by her side, was issuing bulletins announcing the partial successes gained by Napoleon her husband, over the troops of her father, the Emperor Francis of Austria, the Czar of Russia, and the King of Prussia. Such was the state of events at this momentous epoch—Great Britain still continuing the focus of resistance, and straining every nerve to keep the Holy Alliance unanimous.

The weather now became very severe, and as some reports were circulated that there was a probability of the British army advancing into the interior of France, I obtained a few days' leave for the purpose of visiting my wounded friends at Bera; and accordingly I set off in the direction of Saint Jean de Luz. A severe frost had hardened the roads, and the ground was covered with snow, but I had scarcely travelled a league, when I heard an independent firing towards Bayonne, which almost induced me to return, under the apprehension, that some portion of the army were engaged; but, on reaching a more elevated hill, I found that none of the troops were in motion, and it afterwards turned out to be the young French conscripts practising at targets. On this open heath, signal posts were erected, to communicate with the right of the army, on the right bank of the Nive. Batteries were thrown up a few miles in front of Saint Jean de Luz, to cover that town on the high road from Bayonne. They appeared strong and well finished.

The narrow and dirty streets of Saint Jean de Luz presented a gloomy aspect, being filled with muleteers, cars loaded with biscuit-bags, bullocks, rum-casks, ammunition, idlers, and all the disagreeable incumbrances attached to the rear of an army. As I passed along the high road, I felt exceedingly surprised at the numerous delapidated houses, and empty chateaux, with the orchards and all the fruit trees cut down and converted into abattis, which had been done by the French army; but every article that had been left by them in good order, the followers of our army had ransacked. How often do the soldiers of armies bear the odium of enormities and plunderings, committed most frequently by the non-combatant wolves in the shape of men, whose crimes are of such long standing, and so frequently executed (under the cloak of night, or under the mask of hypocrisy), that at last no atrocity is too heinous for so cowardly a banditti to commit. They devour the rations on their way to the hungry army: they steal the officers' horses: they extort exorbitant prices for small articles, which they have stolen from the peaceful inhabitants: they strip the deserted and expiring wounded on the field of battle, and would willingly sell their bodies, could they find purchasers.

Having jogged along some miles, amongst this horde of scattered ruffians, I came to the narrow road turning off to the left, which leads across the mountains to the town of Bera; and towards evening I reached, with difficulty, the summit of the contracted pass, narrowed by the drifted, and frozen snow. Here I stopped for a few minutes, (notwithstanding the piercing coldness of the frosty air) to contemplate the town of Bera, and the scattered quintas embosomed in the valley, now wrapped in a death-like stillness, and covered, as well as the surrounding mountains, with snow. The brittle branches of the trees were stiffened, fringed, and sparkling with icicles. A few short months had produced a great change! When last I had been at this spot, the foliage was tinted with an autumnal hue, and red lines of soldiers, were formed there, their silken and embroidered ensigns waving, and their bright arms gleaming in the rays of the sun, the craggy heights bristled with bayonets, the drums beating, the merry bugle horns echoing throughout the winding vallies: every eminence was crowned with curling smoke, the vivid firing of small arms, or the occasional flash of the cannon, reverberating amid the forests in hollow caves, broken chasms, and fissures of the granite rock,—producing sounds afar off, like the rumbling of distant thunder,—and altogether giving an inconceivable life, and animation to the scenery.

On my descending from this pinnacle, to make my way down the side of the mountain, the road was so blocked up with snow, the narrow pathway in, the middle so slippery, and the foot-hold so uncertain, that I could hardly keep myself on my legs, or the animal on its own; and, resting every now and then, I did not reach the solitary and deserted street of the town, until an hour and a half after nightfall.

When opposite to the porch of the well known Casa, (that of the before-mentioned Spanish family), although shivering and benumbed with cold, I hesitated to knock for admittance. All was dark and silent; no lights issued from the casement, nor was the sound of any voice to be heard from within. In this short interval, many conjectures rushed across my mind; my friends might be gone to some distant town; the former hospitable inmates might no longer inhabit its gloomy walls, it might be occupied with strangers, or be the sanctuary of the dead. With such dismal forebodings, I gave a thundering rap; the massive door was opened by a soldier, holding a little iron lamp in his hand, (filled with aceyte, and having a small wick burning at the spout) which cast a faint glimmering light across the out lines of my cloak, and wiry-haired steed, covered with slakes of snow. Without waiting for any explanation, the man was hastily closing the door, while lustily calling out, "There is no room here, this house is full of wounded officers;" but on making myself known, the portal was thrown back on its hinges; lights appeared at the top of the stairs, and the voices of my friends joyfully greeted my arrival. In the midst of our embracings, "Take care of my side," said one of them, (still hugging me), "for it has sloughed away, and you shall see my bare ribs anon." Another was stretched on his pallet, from which he had not risen for upwards of two months, but was slowly recovering under the soothing attention, and gentle hand of la SeÑorita Ventura. The former had made too free with the roseate wine at Christmas, which had caused his wound to break out anew, leaving his ribs quite bare of flesh for the space of six inches in diameter; but they were both in excellent spirits—the braceiro was replenished with ruddy embers, and placed at my feet, and a hot dinner speedily served up, with a bottle of sparkling wine to solace and comfort my inside, after my freezing journey. Over this we recounted all that had passed since our separation at the battle of the Nivelle. I described fresh battles, and combats, and they all the torments they had endured while slowly carried two leagues in blankets up and down the rocks and mountains, or on the verge of terrific precipices, in momentary dread that those supporting them might slip, and let them fall on the jagged and naked rocks. Before I retired to rest, I paid a visit to a young officer of the 52nd regiment, who occupied a room at the upper part of the house; he was suffering dreadfully, and dying from a wound which he had received in the groin.

The following day, Captain Smith of the 20th regiment dined with us, who came from the neighbourhood of Roncesvalles, bringing in his train a coffin, and having performed a pilgrimage, through the intricacies of the mountains at this inclement season of the year, in search of a friend, who had been killed in that neighbourhood five months before. Three or four days passed in this manner, when a trifling circumstance broke up our sociable conviviality. The last evening, as we were seated round the braceiro, I was engaged in an agreeable tÊte-À-tÊte with la SeÑorita Ventura which seriously affected one of my wounded friends, who was deeply enamoured of her; he continued, however, to smother his anguish for a short time, and the strangeness of his manner, left little doubt on my mind that an excuse would only make bad worse, on so delicate a subject. I therefore announced the intention of taking my departure on the following morning. One of them held me by the collar, and declared I should not go, as I had introduced them to the family, and that any jealous feeling was the height of ingratitude; however, the blow was so injurious to my friend's vanity or love, that he could not endure my presence for another evening; twice, by such introductions, I had almost saved his life, yet he could not forgive, although an excellent fellow. Such is all-powerful love!

Having bidden adieu, myself and a friend of the rifles (who had been to Bera to see his wounded brother) repassed Saint-Jean de Luz, and soon after alighted at the quarters of a commissary, who had formerly belonged to the light division. While we were partaking of some refreshment, he asked us whether the division had not been surprised on the 10th of the last December; when told to the contrary, he assured us that it was generally supposed to be the case, and he was exceedingly glad to hear it contradicted, feeling an interest in all that concerned the welfare of the division, for he had made his dÉbÚt with it. Before leaving the main road, the same questions were put to us in another quarter, by an officer who had been previously in our own corps; which will give a faint idea how rapidly evil and malicious reports fly; and so evil a one as this I had seldom known hatched. However, looking to the front, we only fancied ourselves on the high road of blunders; but the most curious and laughable part of the business was, that these very reports were in circulation by those who were so far to the rear when the battle of the Nive first began, that, had it not been for the determined resistance of the van guards of the light¹⁷ and fifth divisions, the enemy would have passed all the defences, and most probably seized Saint Jean de Luz, and the bridge at Ustaritz;—and strange it is, but not less true, that the most doleful accounts float about behind an army: victory is construed into defeat; and if a slight retrograde is made, off go the non-combatants as hard as they can tear, carrying away every one in the torrent whom they can persuade to take their friendly advice.

A thaw had now set in; the cross roads, in many places, were perfect bogs and quagmires, so that we did not reach our cantonments until late at night, and were covered with mud, having been frequently obliged to dismount, to wade through the slough, before we dared trust our horses to pass through, as many animals were still sticking or lying in the liquid mud, after having floundered about until they were smothered in the mire.

Preparations being made, early in February, for pushing into the interior of France, General Hill broke up from Bayonne in the middle of that month, and at first moved in a southerly direction as far as Hellete, driving the enemy across the rivers Joyeuse, Bidouze, and through the town of St. Palais.¹⁸ These movements cut the French off from the small fortress of St. Jean Pied-de-Port, which General Mina blockaded, and obliged the right of their army to leave Bayonne to its own defence. Thence, marching along the right bank of the Adour, they crossed the river at the Port de Lanne, for the purpose of supporting their centre and left, which were retiring before General Hill, and taking post behind the river or Gave d'Oleron, with their right resting on the left bank of the Adour, and occupying the towns of Peyrehorade, Sauveterre, and the small fortress of Navarriens.

The six divisions of the army, besides cavalry and artillery, destined to penetrate into the interior, consisted of the second, third, fourth, sixth, seventh, and light divisions, which were now extending in echelon from Vieux Mouguerre to Navarriens and drawing off by degrees in succession towards the right: the first and fifth division, Lord Alymer's brigade, and a corps of Spaniards being left behind to blockade the fortress of Bayonne under General Hope.

Our division, having passed the Nive, occupied the small town of Bastide; but, as the clothing of our regiment had reached as far as the town of Ustaritz, we once more crossed the river for it, and having halted there one day, retraced our steps to rejoin the army, the right of which had crossed the Gave d'Oleron, while General Beresford with two divisions showed front, ready to cross that river at Peyrehorade.

The right of General Hope's corps, consisting of the fifth division, having crossed to the right of the river Nive, invested Bayonne on that side. On the 23rd, part of the first division passed the Adour, (two hundred and seventy yards in width) on a raft four miles below Bayonne, from whence the enemy advanced to endeavour to force this small van-guard to recross the river, but without effect. The two following days, the whole of the first division were ferried over to the right bank of the river: Lord Alymer's brigade, and the Spaniards in reserve hemmed in the enemy on the side of St. Jean de Luz, which completed the lines of circumvallation, drawn round the entrenched camp of this fortress and its citadel: but, owing to the intersection of the rivers, this corps was split into three different bodies, communicating with each other by the grand bridge of Chasse-MarÉes,¹⁹ thrown over the Adour, and one across the Nive. Subsequently some changes of the troops took place.

On the 25th our regiment reached a village within a mile of St. Palais, and on the following morning entered that town, when, to our mortification, we were ordered to halt until relieved by some other regiment, while the 57th, whom we had replaced, marched forward to join the army. It was therefore evident that the troops were left to keep open the line of communication in rear of the army, as well as to fetch clothing.

On the morning of the 27th we heard that the 79th Highlanders were to enter the town; we therefore got under arms, and as soon as they entered at one end, we marched out at the other and towards the middle of the day passed the Gave d'Oleron,²⁰ at Sauveterre. A fine stone bridge crossed the river; but its centre arches had been blown up and entirely destroyed: it was therefore necessary to ford the river, which was more than a hundred yards in breadth; and, although hardly three feet deep below the bridge, the current was so extremely rapid, and the bottom so intersected with loose stones, that it was thought advisable for the strongest men to throw off their knapsacks, and to join hands and form a strong chain with their faces to the current, to pick up any of the soldiers, who might chance to turn giddy or loose their foot-hold—for if an individual wavered to either side, the probability was, that he was whirled round by the force of the stream, and lifted off his legs, sinking to the bottom like a lump of lead, loaded as he was, with knapsack, accoutrements and sixty pounds of ball cartridge!

We breakfasted at a hotel in the town of Sauveterre, and, as the band played through it, the inhabitants stood at their windows smiling with as much indifference, as if the column had been composed of the native troops of their own country.

At this time we could distinctly hear, at some distance to our front, a heavy firing, and the rolling of musketry and cannon. Owing to its continuation we marched forward the whole of the day. The country was extremely fertile, with large farm houses and chateaux on each side of the road. All the doors were closed, nor did we meet a single individual, from whom we could gain the least information. Towards dusk the howling of the great watch-dogs might be heard all over the country; and although we bivouacked in the night in a wood, within three miles of Orthes, we were utterly ignorant of the cause of the heavy firing during the day.

At dawn on the 28th we had hardly traversed a mile when we observed the tents of the 57th regiment pitched on the top of a hill, to the right of the road, without any signs of a move. This corps had been two days from St. Palais, and in one march we were passing them. I was sent forward to gain information, and absolutely reached the old narrow bridge on the river Pau at Orthes, before I heard from an officer of engineers, who was superintending its repairs, that a battle had taken place on the previous day. The centre arch being destroyed, this officer had strict orders not to let any one pass it, until it should be fully repaired: however, as an especial favour, he had the complaisance to cause a few planks to be laid down, and, at a great risk, I succeeded in getting my horse over and entered the town—where I met a soldier of the 52nd, who could not tell me the road the light division had taken after the victory, and, when asked what they had been doing the day before: "Why sir," replied he, "I never saw Johnny fight better." Directly after this I saw Lord George Lennox, in a light dragoon uniform, who told me, that he feared his brother the Duke of Richmond,²¹ a Captain of the 52nd, was mortally wounded, having been shot through the body by a musket ball, while ascending a hill with his regiment, at the close of the battle.