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.