Malcolm's Campaign in the Pyrenees & South of France

Chapter I

REMINISCENCES
OF A
CAMPAIGN IN THE PYRENEES
AND SOUTH OF FRANCE
IN
1814.

THERE is something in the idea of a military life particularly fascinating to youth. The sight of a regiment marching past, with its colours flying, and its martial music, awakens a slumbering instinct in the soul. At the sound of the trump and drum, the heart gains a quicker beat, and the cheek a brighter glow. There is a charm in the gorgeous array, the nodding plume, and the martial air of the soldier - in the unrestrained freedom which is supposed to belong to a military life - in its promise of honour and glory - of love and war, and strange adventures in foreign lands. Against temptations like these, the voice of caution speaks in vain; and perhaps it it [sic] is well, since all the ardour of youth and the stimulus of hope are required in struggling with, and surmounting, the troubles and disappointments of life.

At the period to which these Sketches refer, the war in the Peninsula was at the hottest; and from the time I had a prospect of joining the army, all the romance of my nature was called forth, by the hope of visiting that interesting country. My very dreams were of orange groves and evening serenades, and latticed windows and dark-eyed beauties. The period fixed for my departure at length arrived, and I joyfully repaired to Portsmouth, in order to embark for the seat of war. A considerable time, however, elapsed, before I could procure a passage, in consequence of the number of troops destined for the army, many of whom were obliged to wait the equipment of another fleet.

In order to escape the bustle and confusion of Portsmouth, I took up my abode at Hilsea Barracks, about three miles distant, until a fleet of transports, then collecting at Spithead, should he ready to sail. It was the summer season - the country was in full bloom; and in making excursions to the neighbourhood, and listening to the bands of music, amid the shady and secluded walks, my time passed delightfully away. Every thing that I saw of a military life tended to exalt my notions of it; and in the enjoyment of the present, and the anticipations of the future, the days I passed at Hilsea were among the happiest of my life.

On the 18th of June 1813, I repaired on board the transport to which I was appointed, along with an officer belonging to the same regiment with myself, amidst a scene of uproar and confusion which I shall not attempt to describe; and in a few days afterwards, the fleet received orders to sail. Our vessel had been employed as a hospital ship, and was fitted up for the accommodation of passengers, from stem to stern. A few officers of the higher ranks took possession of the cabin, and the rest of the passengers occupied the space between decks, where our beds, which in size and shape not a little resembled cradles, were made fast to the flooring by means of bolts and strong cords, and were placed in rows like church-pews, having narrow passages betwixt them. Our vessel contained upwards of eighty passengers, who, with the exception of about a dozen military officers, consisted of commissaries and their clerks, hospital assistants, adventurers, and followers of the army.

It was now for the first time that I witnessed the invidious distinctions of military rank. A young officer had just taken possession of a berth, which he was preparing to occupy, when a brother of the profession came up and asked him the date of his commission; upon being informed of which, he laid claim to the berth, as being the senior. The army list was referred to, and he was found entitled to precedence, - his commission bearing date one day previous to that of the other.

Signal being made for sailing, our convoy, consisting of three ships of war, led the way, and the whole fleet following in their wake, stood out for the Channel. We cast anchor a few hours at Torbay, and afterwards at Falmouth, where most of the passengers went on shore. Towards evening, signal was again made for sailing, and we repaired on board. The fleet soon got under weigh, and, with a light breeze, stood out to sea. The coast of England began to fade at the night-fall; but the wind had almost died away, and the low and indistinct hum of the shore came floating over the waters. I remained upon deck the greater part of the night, listening to the distant and dying sounds, which seemed like farewell voices from the land, until they gradually sunk into silence, and nothing was heard but the low ripple of the waves around the prow of our ship, as she glided almost imperceptibly onwards. Next morning, we had lost sight of land - and the world of waters was around us.

What an interesting object is a ship at sea - a solitary speck tossing upon a boundless abyss of waters, and liable to be whelmed beneath the waves, yet guided by the frail being whom it bears over trackless wastes, for thousands of miles, to the most distant and unknown shores! What a picture does it exhibit of the triumph of mind over matter, - of "the power and the insignificance of man!" But it is at night that the beauty and sublimity of the scene is most strongly felt, - when the sea is calm, - and the moon sails up the cloudless sky, holding her silent and mysterious communion with the deep, - when the reflection from the waters produces the magnificent illusion of a nether sky, and the ship, like a winged spirit, seems to sail "between worlds and worlds." And here I would remark, that if science has, in some instances, been unfavourable to poetry, by withdrawing from nature the "veil of enchantment," and thereby shutting up some of the sources of imagination, she has often compensated by opening up others. If, in some cases, she has taken away the enchantments of fiction, she has occasionally substituted the greater charms of truth in their stead. In her triumphal march through the sky, she has explored the mysterious lights scattered over the immensity of space, and brought us home such tidings of wonder, as, without her aid, had probably never entered into the heart of man to conceive. She has shown them to be worlds and systems, over whose boundless scenes imagination may expatiate with delight, and people them with "beings, bright as their own beams."

From the day of our embarkation at Spithead to that of our arrival at Lisbon, a complete month elapsed, - a sufficient time to give one some idea of the sameness of a sea-life. During the greater part of that period, its varieties consisted of contrary winds, light airs, dead calms, arid two or three smart gales from the wrong quarters. Our private stocks of provisions were soon exhausted, and we had then no resource but the ship's fare consisting chiefly of beef and pork, encrusted to salt, and subject to "all the ills that flesh is heir to." In addition to this catalogue of disagreeables incident to sea-voyages in general, we had several others of a more peculiar nature. In a voyage under convoy, it is of no avail that you happen to be in a fast sailing vessel: nay, it is rather a circumstance of annoyance; for no sooner has she shot a head of the rest a few miles, than she must lie-to during the finest breeze, in order to wait the slow approach of the heaviest hugger in the fleet. Our passengers, too, were continually quarrelling among themselves; and some of them had given and received so many challenges to mortal combat, that the number of duels to be fought when they got ashore was quite bewildering; and it would have been necessary that a diary of events had been kept by which to ascertain their order of precedence. The first part of our voyage, however, was the most unpleasant, as we were for about three weeks without sight of land in the Bay of Biscay.

During the calm summer evenings, I used to sit upon deck for hours together, watching the long array of ships spreading their white wings over the ocean. Such a sight would now be a subject of melancholy reflection; for the fleet which so proudly spread over the waters, was wafting away a host of human beings from their native country - from the joys and charities of home, and the calm current of domestic life, to the weary march, and the burning clime - the couch of clay, and the canopy of night.

Of the crowds thus hastening to swell the ranks of war, how many were destined never to return, - and how many to return under such altered circumstances, - so maimed or broken down, as to make it difficult for the mother to recognise her own child in the wreck before her! How many were in that fleet, for whom the prayers of affection were destined to rise in vain - bright eyes to grow dim, and blooming cheeks to wax pale! But these are after-thoughts, and did not then come, to cast a cloud over the dreams of my early days.

On a beautiful calm evening, a little before sunset, a solitary speck was seen rising over the waters. It turned out to be Cape Ortegal; and a welcome sight it was to all on board. During the remainder of the voyage, our course lay along the high coast of Portugal, whose headlands, weathered in succession, opened to the eye the most refreshing glimpses of green sunny vales, reposing in soft beauty in the bosom of their rough-cut guardian mountains. Upon the summits of these hills, fires (probably kindled by shepherds) were seen blazing at night, and shedding a melancholy radiance far over the sea. At a late hour on the 18th July, we sailed up the Tagus, and anchored below Belem, about a mile from Lisbon.

I had just retired to rest, and was falling asleep, when the midnight chime broke upon my ear. There was music in its deep and solemn sound, fraught with a thousand pleasing associations. It seemed a voice of welcome from the deep to the world of life and the family of man. The great gulf was passed in safety; the sound of the sea had ceased; its eternal moan had died away; and the music of living voices, and the song of groves arid of streams, seemed to warble in my ear and to mingle with my dreams.

On awakening next morning, and looking around me, the scene appeared one of enchantment. The world was basking in a blaze of golden light, such as I had never before witnessed. Lisbon sate, queen-like, enthroned upon her hills, surveying her beauty in the Tagus - calm and majestic, as if the earthquake which once hurled her to the dust, had never slept below, or would never wake again. Boats laden with fruits and provisions swarmed round our vessel; - the dusky natives - the peculiarities of their dress and gestures, and the Babel confusion of their unknown tongue, were all themes of wonder and delight; - but never was the promise of hope more cruelly disappointed than on the day that I entered Lisbon.

The spell of enchantment was completely broken. What seemed beautiful at a distance, became disgusting in detail and on a near approach. The houses were lofty, but had a desolate appearance, and with their latticed windows looked like dungeons. The streets, generally, were steep and narrow; and upon turning a corner, you would almost invariably stumble upon dung-hills, piled up to the very roofs of the houses, from which such clouds of insects arose as almost darkened the air; and the exhalations were so overpowering, that I nearly sunk under them, and dreaded an end very different from that of him who

"Dies of a rose in aromatic pain."

With this state of things, the inhabitants were quite in keeping. - Numbers of them were lying along the pavements, half naked, basking in the sun, and examining each other's heads with such kindly solicitude, that, had the sublime science of bumps been at that time in existence, one would have supposed they were all phrenologists.

In walking along the streets, the ear was continually excruciated by the discordant cries of mules and asses exposed for sale, which were in great requisition for the army; and the eye was occasionally attracted by processions of priests, - some of them perfect incarnations of Bacchus, standing out in broad relief from the poor starved-looking monks, with bare feet and shaven crowns, - personifications of misery and mortification. During processions of the host, the inhabitants sunk down upon their knees in the dirt; and by a general army order, British officers were obliged to take off their caps. Those who happened to neglect this mark of respect, were reminded by the ringing of a bell at their ears, that non-compliance would probably have subjected them to danger. During the few days I remained at Lisbon, it being about the latter end of July, the heat of the weather was excessive; but a pleasure more than compensating the inconvenience, was enjoyed in some of the gardens, amid the shade of trees, and the refreshing sound of waters falling from marble fountains.

Since the period of our leaving England, great changes had taken place in the Peninsula. The battle of Vittoria had been fought, and gained by the British and their allies. St Sebastian was besieged, and the main body of the French army driven to the strongholds of the Pyrenees. In consequence of this state of affairs, we were ordered a few days after our arrival at Lisbon, to re-embark, and proceed to Passages, a small sea-port town, about a league from St Sebastian. This second voyage was even more tedious than our first. We left Lisbon about the 23d of July, and did not reach Passages until the 7th of September. The whole fleet was separated by a heavy gale of wind, and three different, times put into Corunna, the place of rendezvous.

The aspect of the country about Corunna is wild and dreary, resembling some of the more barren districts of Scotland; but the sail into the bay is pretty enough. The town is completely concealed, until a jutting point of land is weathered, when it expands immediately before you in the form of a crescent. Upon going on shore, I was struck with the different appearance of the natives of Spain from those of Portugal - the former being a far finer looking race. The high and haughty faces of the men, and their tall figures, shrouded in dark cloaks, reminded me that I was in the land of romance and chivalry - a recollection not altogether unconnected with certain unpleasant associations with stiletteos and midnight rencontres.

The ladies, with their pale faces, and large dark eyes, appeared extremely interesting. Their gait was full of grace and majesty. One of my fellow-passengers observed, that they "stepped out like Field-marshals." More poetically speaking -

"They walk in beauty, like the night
Of cloudless climes and starry skies;
And all that's best of dark and bright,
Meet in their aspect and their eyes."

And yet, during several occasions upon which I visited the theatre, by far the most beautiful beings amidst its crowded assembly were Englishwomen; - at least to me they appeared so.

On returning from the theatre one night, along with two of my fellow-passengers; owing to the extreme darkness, we lost the way to our hotel; and the few persons we met either could not, or would not, assist us in finding it. After wandering about the streets for a long time, we were accosted in English by a man in the dress of a Spanish soldier, who offered to conduct us to a house where we could have accommodation for the night. Upon expressing our surprise at his knowledge of our language, he informed us that he was a native of Ireland, though in the Spanish service. Being extremely tired, and as he professed not to be able to direct us to our hotel, we accepted his offer, and were conducted through various dark narrow streets or passages, till we arrived at the door of a mean-looking house. We were ushered up stairs, and shown into a room, having three or four small beds in it. We by no means liked the appearance of the house, nor of its inmates; but, seeing nothing better to be done, we agreed to stay; and, having no arms about us, made the door fast, and for some time resisted the inclination to sleep. In a short time we heard a noise, as of people crawling towards the door of our apartment, and a good deal of whispering ensued. Our suspicions were now completely awakened, and, believing that no good could be meant, we began to speak aloud, in order to show that we were not to be taken by surprise. In a short time we heard the steps of the listeners stealing away, and experienced no further annoyance during the night. In the morning our conductor acted landlord, and made a most exorbitant charge for our lodgings.

Glad to escape out of what appeared to be a den of thieves, we proceeded to our hotel, the landlord of which was a Frenchman, who, not satisfied with our paying our own bill, wished to make us responsible for that of certain other persons who had forgot to discharge theirs, and who, he insisted, belonged to our party. With this demand, we of course refused to comply, and walked out of the house, after being obliged to have recourse to certain coercive measures, when he attempted to resist our departure. He followed us into the street, however, and bawled out after us the only English words of which he was possessed - God Dem, with the most amazing volubility, as long as we were in sight.

Tbe most interesting object at Corunna - to a British Soldier - is the tomb of Sir John Moore. It stands upon the ramparts, overlooking the harbour, and is about five feet high, and two or three broad. Four brass cannon, stamped with the word "Marseilles," are placed one at each corner of its base.

We sailed from Corunna for the third and last time, and in our way made a short call at St Andero, a small town, most romantically situated, at the bottom of a stupendous chain of mountains, which runs along the north-west coast of Spain, and seems to be a continuation of the Pyrenees.

Pursuing our voyage along this coast, on the morning of the 6th September, all on board our vessel were attracted to the deck by a curious phenomenon. An immense column, apparently of vapour or smoke, was seen to ascend from a high rock upon the shore, and to mingle with the clouds. Though at a great distance, it was very distinctly defined, and gave rise to a variety of conjectures, none of them satisfactory. Our ship made little progress, as there was scarce a breath of wind; but about noon we began to hear a low muttering sound from the shore, which gradually became like the noise of distant thunder, and finally deepened into the distinct roar of cannon. This at once solved the phenomenon, and made us aware that the column of smoke which had excited our surprise, proceeded from the fire of the castle of St Sebastian, then closely besieged by the British and Portuguese troops, and which continued to hold out, though the town had been taken by storm on the 31st of August.

Night overtook us while yet at a considerable distance from land; but fires from the shore shed their wild and dreary gleams over the sea, and we could occasionally trace the flight of shells through the darkness by their portentous trains, and see them bursting in the air, and shedding their " fire shower of ruin " over the castle. Next morning our vessel entered the harbour of Passages, through a narrow pass betwixt too [sic] high cliffs, resembling a gateway, cut out of the solid rock; upon passing which, the town, hitherto concealed, burst upon the view with the effect of surprise; and the eye had glimpses of the far-off Pyrenees, and of the green vales which lose themselves among the dark recesses of the mountains.

We found Passages was that morning a scene of bustle and confusion. Troops newly arrived from England were landing, all in high health and spirits, to which the crowds of sick and wounded men hourly arriving from the army, pale and emaciated, and on their return home, exhibited an appalling contrast. I immediately went on shore with the party to which I was attached, in order to join my regiment. In proceeding towards the trenches which covered the approach to the English camp, we had to pass immediately under the guns of the castle of St Sebastian. It was then for the first time that I heard the sound of cannon-balls as they passed over us; and I cannot say that it seemed such pleasant music to me as it did to Charles the Twelfth, on making his military debut. The trenches through which we passed were strewed with broken muskets and dead bodies. The sight made a deep impression on me, not being initiated into the secrets of war, but having its appalling horrors flashed at once upon my gaze.

The termination of the trenches brought us to a rising ground, immediately behind which lay the British camp. My companion brought me to the tent of a brother officer, whom we found stretched upon a mattress, pale as ashes, and shaking with ague. His eye lighted up, however, at sight of his friend. He welcomed us in the most cordial manner, and produced such fare as the camp afforded; and, in receiving tidings of home, and giving details of the campaign, seemed to forget his sufferings. During the course of the evening, several officers dropt in, and brought intelligence that, on the following morning, a general cannonade would be opened upon the castle of St Sebastian, which, if it did not surrender during the course of the day, would be stormed. My friend and I were congratulated on having arrived in time to share in the honour and glory of the business, the thoughts of which seemed in no way to disturb the hilarity of the evening. The glass circulated freely - conversation became animated - promotions were gaily anticipated, and jokes passed on the business of to-morrow. I was told, that in less than twenty-four hours hence, I might be wiser than all the sages and philosophers that ever wrote, - by getting a peep behind the curtain. The festivities of the evening were concluded with some choice Scottish songs; and never before did these strains seem so exquisite to me as that night, when on a foreign shore, and in the very "shadow of death," they breathed of the joys of love, and of my native land.

And shall not the war-worn soldier on the battle-eve solace himself with those sweet sounds to which his ear may so soon be deaf for ever? Shall he not cull the rose of love while it blooms along his path, and bask him in the sunshine of this world ere it smile upon his grave?

Thus it is that the uncertainty of life leads to a recklessness of death; and the soldier may be said (though not in a scriptural sense) to live as if every hour was his last, snatching while he may, amid days of danger and nights of horror, what he deems the life of life.

The party broke up at a late hour. A camp-bed is soon made. I retired to rest, and sunk into a profound sleep, from which, however, I was soon awakened by the reveillie, and found the camp all in motion, and the troops under arms.

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