EVER since the termination of the battles commencing on the 9th, and ending on the 13th December (1813), Soult had remained quietly within his intrenched camp; but spring having now set in, the campaign was opened with fresh vigour.
On the 14th February 1814, Sir Rowland Hill drove in the enemy's picquets on the river Joyeuse, attacked their position at Hillette, and obliged General Harispe to retire to St Marten. At the same time General Mina's troops advanced from the valley of Bastan; and the enemy's communication with the town of St Jean Pied de Port being cut off by Sir Rowland Hill, it was forthwith blockaded by the Spanish troops. On the 15th Sir Rowland Hill continued the pursuit of the enemy, who had retired from a strong position in front of Garris. General Murrillo's Spanish division, after driving in the enemy's advanced posts, was ordered to move upon St Palais in order to turn their left, and cut off their retreat by that road, while the 2nd division under General Stewart should attack in front. The enemy's position was remarkably strong, but was carried without very much loss, and the repeated attacks which they made to regain it, were most gallantly repulsed. They retired across the river at St Palais during the night, destroying the bridges, which however were repaired, so that Sir Rowland Hill crossed on the 16th. The enemy were driven across the Gave de Mouleron, retired on the night across the Gave d'Oleron, and took up a strong position in the neighbourhood of Sauveterre, and on the 18th our posts were established on the Gave d'Oleron.
On the 21st February, Lord Wellington returned to Garris, and ordered the 6th and light division to break up from the siege of Bayonne, and the pontoons were moved forward and thrown across the Gave de Mouleron. Marshal Beresford attacked the enemy on the 23d, drove them from their fortified posts on the left of the Gave de Pau; and immediately after the passage of the Gave d'Oleron was effected, Sir Henry Clinton, with the 6th division, moved towards Orthes, the enemy retired on the night across the Gave de Pau, and assembled their army near Orthes on the 25th, having destroyed the bridges on the river.
While these operations were going on upon the right, the regiment in which I then served remained with Sir John Hope's division at Bayonne. At last I received a notification from England of an appointment to another regiment, then with the 6th division, which I had for some time expected. I left my old friends with many regrets, and set off to join my new corps which had marched towards the right some days before. I arrived in the evening at Hasparen, a small town near the bottom of the Pyrenees, where I remained for the night. Next morning I proceeded on my solitary route to St Palais, in which direction I learned the regiment had moved and where I arrived in the evening, but found they had left it a day or two before. While I continued in this manner to trace them from town to town, I was on one occasion benighted on the banks of a large river, over which I could discover no bridge. In this dilemma I observed a peasant's hut, to which I forthwith repaired, in order if possible to obtain quarters for the night. This favour, however, I could by no means obtain from the lord of the mansion, a gruff old fellow, who would not be softened either for love or money.
Being in an enemy's country, and alone, I was not in a condition to enforce my demands on the master of the house; so that I had no alternative but to wander on through the dark along the banks of the river, until I should reach the bridge, which I understood was at a considerable distance. I had turned my back upon the inhospitable churl, and had begun to wend my way along the water's edge, when I heard some one calling me back. Upon looking round, I found that the soft sounds proceeded from his wife, whom I had not before seen, and who, upon finding how matters stood, had come after me, and now, regardless of her husband's displeasure, brought me back - gave me the kindest welcome - produced a supper of fried bacon, with a bottle of the country wine, and finally lighted me to a small apartment, where she had prepared for me a clean comfortable bed; thus affording another instance of that superiority of women in acts of kindness and beneficence, which has been recorded of them by travellers in every region of the globe.
I had now been following the regiment for several days, tracing their march from stage to stage without having been able to overtake them. At last, while pursuing my solitary journey, upon the 27th, I began to hear the sound of cannon, towards the front, which continued to increase into the distinct though distant roar of a general battle. Towards night, I overtook the officer commanding the baggage guard of the regiment, who informed, me, that our army had attacked and defeated the enemy near Orthes, and were still in close pursuit of them. We passed the night at a small town, of which I forget the name; and at an early hour next morning I proceeded on my route, and overtook the regiment, just as they were about to march off from their encampment. We had not proceeded far when the enemy began to cannonade us, but they soon retired, and we continued our pursuit. A few hours afterwards, they again attempted to make a stand. Some skirmishing ensued, and our light company lost some men; but they were again driven back, and our cavalry attacked their rear-guard, and took a good many prisoners.
The enemy retired upon St Sever, and afterwards upon Aire; in sight of which place we encamped, I think, upon the 2d March. Here they were attacked by General Hill, with the second division, and the Portuguese brigade, under General Costa, and were driven from their position. They returned, however, and charged the Portuguese, whom they threw into some confusion; but General Barnes's brigade of the second division coming up, drove them back. They made several attempts to regain their position, but were uniformly repulsed in all directions, and the town and magazines fell into the hands of the British.
From the ground which we occupied we had a fine view of the action; but passed a dreadful night, as the rain descended in torrents, which it continued to do for several succeeding days. We were then moved forward, and encamped near a wood on the farther side of Aire, where we remained for several days, in consequence of the bad state of the roads, and until the various bridges which the enemy had blown up in their retreat could be repaired - and which were necessary to preserve the communications with the various parts of our army.
Soult, by his retreat eastwards upon Tarbes, where he expected to be joined by Suchet from Spain, had left open the main road leading to Bourdeaux, upon which place Marshal Beresford advanced with 15,000 men, 4000 of whom he left as a garrison, and returned with the remaining force. On the 17th March, Wellington, having concentrated his army, advanced in pursuit of the enemy, whom we found posted on a strong position near Tarbes. Our army advanced upon them in two columns of attack; - the one, under General Hill, attacked their right, and the other, commanded by General Clinton, advanced upon their front. The regiment to which I belonged was moved on, along with others, to the attack. We had just arrived upon the scene of action, and had begun to hear the spent balls flying past, when the enemy gave way. The action, however, still continued upon our right; but by a movement made by General Clinton with the sixth division, by which their rear was threatened, they gave way in all directions, and retired upon St Gaudens, leaving the country covered with their dead. Darkness corning on, we were ordered to halt, and encamped in a ploughed field for the night, and early next morning continued our pursuit of the enemy. Soult rallied his army at St Gaudens, from which place he retreated to Toulouse, determined to make a last desperate stand under its walls.
During our pursuit of the enemy, many were the annoyances and miseries which we suffered. Among these may be mentioned the want of shoes. Numbers of the men were marching barefooted, and in vain did the captains of companies ride on before the line of march to the various towns in our route, in order to purchase a supply of these articles, which they uniformly found had been put in requisition by the French, whose retreat was marked by traces of devastation, and whose habits of plundering and destroying rendered them as formidable to their own countrymen as to the other nations of Europe. Scarce a day passed without some skirmishing betwixt our advanced and the enemy's rear-guard. One evening, after a long and fatiguing march, and after passing through a village, of which I forget the name, we were ordered to halt on a field by the road-side. I lay down on the ground along with some other officers, and in a few minutes we were all asleep. We were soon roused from our slumbers, however, by the roll of the drum and the roar of cannon towards the front, where the French were attempting to make a stand. We were immediately ordered to move on towards the scene of action, but before we arrived there, the enemy had given way. We met Lord Wellington, at the head of his staff, returning from the front. He rode slowly over the contested ground, which was covered with the dead, whom I observed he surveyed with a look of deep melancholy. On another occasion, after a long march, we were ordered to halt, and the men received the agreeable command to cook their dinners. Every face brightened up upon the occasion. Blazing fires, crowned with large kettles, started up as if by magic, when, - oh the vanity of human happiness! - the shout of "Cavalry, cavalry!" resounded through the camp, succeeded by the cry of "Stand to your arms!" and in a moment the kettles were upset, and a melancholy sight it was to see the soup flowing in torrents, and the beautiful rotundities of beef playing at bowls upon the green. To make our misery yet more complete, we soon discovered that the irretrievable misfortune was occasioned by a false alarm. It frequently happened too, that after the termination of a long march, in wet weather, we had to stand for hours exposed to torrents of rain, before our camp-equipage arrived from the rear; and even after our tents were pitched, we were often obliged to sit ancle-deep in mud, and in the copious use of grog and cigars, to seek insensibility as the best of blessings.
Although the men in general bore their sufferings with much patience, there were some upon whom they had an exasperating effect. Of this number was an old man of the company to which I was attached, of the name of Winnan, familiarly termed by his comrades Johnny Winnan. He was considered the wit of the company, and a most profane one he was. After a long march, in wet weather, before the tents had arrived, I have seen him sit down in the rain and sport with his misery, by spreading out his cold, wet hands, and praying for a little hell-fire to warm them. Irreligious as he seemed, he was not exempt from superstitious fears; for at the battle of Toulouse, just as the action was commencing, he said he had forgot something, and, pulling a pack of cards out of his pocket, threw them away, observing, that it was not lucky to carry such things into battle. His precaution, however, did not avail him, for he was killed shortly afterwards.
We were continuing our march on a bright, breezy forenoon, unobstructed by an enemy, when, from a part of the road that lay over a rising ground, we beheld the long looked for Toulouse, with its dark Gothic towers rising majestically in the distance, and the broad waters of the Garronne sweeping between. We proceeded towards a splendid chateau, which was allotted to the regiment as their quarters during the night.
The family to which it belonged had retired into Toulouse, and had left it in charge of an old domestic, who, in return for a little well-timed civility on our parts, produced some bottles of excellent old wine from the well-stored cellars. We reposed that night upon the most luxurious couches, and in splendid apartments; but next evening saw us again under canvas, lying on the wet ground; thus alternately experiencing "Of life's extremes the grandeur and the gloom." Shortly afterwards, we pitched our tents in the immediate vicinity of some farm-houses, into one of which I entered, on the evening of the 7th of April, along with some others, to avoid the rain, which was falling in torrents. Here we kindled a blazing fire, and with the "sweet oblivious antidotes" of brandy and cigars, we made ourselves comfortable, and retired to rest in a state of the most delightful and turtle-like insensibility to care. We had just closed our eyes, and were beginning to feel the first luxurious approach of sleep, when a gentle tap was heard at the door, and an orderly sergeant walked in, and announced to us that the regiment was under arms, and ready to march off. We immediately started up, hurried on our clothes, and fell in with the ranks, and moved from our ground amidst torrents of rain and a night of utter darkness. We continued our march till daybreak, when we halted upon the banks of the Garronne, a considerable distance below Toulouse. We observed some French videttes on the opposite side of the river, who scampered off the moment they saw us. As the enemy did not make their appearance, the pontoons were thrown across the river without any obstruction, under the immediate inspection of Lord Wellington himself who stood on the bank of the river, surrounded by a crowd of French peasantry, men, women and children, to whom he behaved with great affability and good humour.
As soon as the bridge was laid, we marched over, as also did various corps of cavalry and artillery, and a part of the army moved on towards the neighbourhood of Toulouse; and the 18th Hussars, with Colonel Vivian at their head, attacked a large body of the enemy's cavalry, whom they drove through the village of Croix d'Orade, and took possession of a bridge over the river Ers, by which it was necessary to pass, in order to attack the enemy's position. After crossing the Garronne, I was sent, along with another officer, to take charge of a pretty stron [sic] escort appointed to protect the advance of some artillery; and in the evening we joined our regiment, which we found encamped for the night. It was necessary to move the pontoon bridges higher up the river, in order to shorten the communication with Sir Rowland Hill; which operation being effected on the evening of the 9th, it was understood in the camp, that a general attack would be made on the enemy's position on the following morning.
The city of Toulouse is defended with an ancient wall flanked with towers; and is surrounded on three sides by the great Canal of Languedoc, and the river Garrone [sic]. Soult had fortified the suburb of St Cipriani, on the left side of the canal, and had established such works in front of the walls (by which they were also covered), as to make it a very strong tête de pont. All the bridges over the canal were likewise strengthened by têtes de pont, covered by musketry and artillery from the ancient wall. Beyond the canal, and eastwards as far as the rever [sic] Ers, extends a range of hills, over which pass all the roads to the canal and town. On this ridge Soult had erected a chain of five redoubts, connected by lines of intrenchment, all mounted with artillery; and, as the bridges over the river Ers had been broken down, and the roads rendered impracticable by the continued rains, it was impossible to move upon the enemy's flank on the west side; and no alternative remained but to attack him in this formidable position.
Early on Sunday morning, the 10th April, our tents were struck, and we moved along with the other regiments of the 6th division, towards the neighbourhood of Toulouse, until ordered to halt on a level ground, from whence we had a distinct view of the enemy's position on the ridge of hills already mentioned. At the same time, we saw Lord Wellington, accompanied by his Staff, riding back from the front at a hard trot. He was easily known, even at a considerable distance, by the peculiarly erect carriage of his head, and the white cravat which he always wore. Some of the men called out, "There goes Wellington, my lads; we shall have some hot work presently." At that moment General Pack, who commanded our brigade, came up, and, calling its officers and noncommissioned officers around him, addressed them in words to the following effect: - "We are this day to attack the enemy. Your business will be to take possession of these fortified heights, which you see towards the front. I have only to warn you to be prepared to form close column, in case of a charge of cavalry, and to restrain the impetuosity of the men, and prevent them from wasting their ammunition." The drum then beat to arms, and we received orders to move on towards the enemy's position.
Marshal Beresford crossed the Ers, at the bridge of Croix d'Orade; and, with the fourth division, carried the village of Mont Blanc; and the Spanish General Don Manuel Freyre, proceeding along the left of the Ers, formed his corps on a height in front of the enemy's left; moved on to the attack under a heavy fire of musketry and artillery, and lodged his troops beneath some banks, immediately under the enemy's intrenchments; but, in attempting to turn their left flank, the Spaniards were repulsed, and the French, rushing out upon them from the intrenchments, drove them down the hill in great confusion. They suffered considerably in retiring; but rallied again, upon seeing the light division come up to their assistance.
Meantime, our division (the 6th) approached the foot of the ridge of heights, on the enemy's right, and moved in a direction parallel to them, until we should reach the point of attack. We advanced along the foot of the ridge, under a heavy cannonade, from some redoubts on the heights. At one part of the ground over which we passed, many of the shot took effect; and a soldier, immediately before me, was struck by a cannon-ball, about the middle of the body, and fell a frightful and shapeless mass, scarcely retaining a trace of humanity. We arrived, at last, immediately in front of a redoubt, which protected the right of the enemy's position, where we were formed in two lines, - the first consisting of some Portuguese regiments, and the reserve, at this point, of the Highland brigade. Darkening the whole hill, flanked by clouds of cavalry, and covered by the fire of their redoubt, the enemy came down upon us like a torrent; their generals and field-officers riding in front, and waving their hats amidst shouts of the multitude, resembling the roar of an ocean. Our Highlanders, as if actuated by one instinctive impulse, took off their bonnets, and, waving them in the air, returned their greeting with three cheers. A deathlike silence ensued for some moments, and we could observe a visible pause in the advance of the enemy. At that moment, the light company of the 42d regiment, by a well directed fire, brought down some of the French officers of distinction, as they rode in front of their respective corps. The enemy immediately fired a volley into our lines, and advanced upon us amidst a deafening roar of musketry and artillery. Our troops answered their fire only once, and, unappalled by their furious onset, advanced up the hill, and met them at the charge. Our bayonets, however, pierced nothing but wreaths of smoke; for, our foes having suddenly changed their minds, were charging in the opposite direction: and just such a glimpse did we obtain of them, vanishing over the ridge of the hill, as did Geoffrey Crayon of "the stout gentleman." Upon reaching the summit of the ridge of heights, the redoubt which had covered their advance fell into our possession; but they still retained four others, with their connecting lines of intrenchments, upon the level of the same height on which we were now established, and into which they had retired.
Meantime, our troops were drawn up along a road, which passed over the hill, and which, having a high bank at each side, protected us in some measure from the general fire of their last line of redoubts.
Here our brigade remained a considerable time, until Marshal Beresford's artillery, which, in consequence of the badness of the roads, had been left in the village of Mont Blanc, could be brought up, and until the Spaniards under Don Manuel Freyre could be re-formed, and brought back to the attack.
During this pause, we were ordered to sit down along the sides of the road, the embankments of which afforded us protection from the point-blank shot of the redoubts and fortified houses into which the enemy had retired, but not from their shells, which they threw among us with great precision, and by which we lost a good many men; and latterly they moved round some guns to a position, from which the line of the road was completely raked by their fire. During this period of the battle, General Pack sat on horseback in the middle of the road, showing an example of the most undaunted bravery to then troops. I think I see him now, as he then appeared, perfectly calm and unmoved, and with a placid smile upon his face amidst a perfect storm of shot and shells. His aid-de-camp, Le Strange, who was afterwards killed at Waterloo, had his horse shot under him, and both came down together. A few minutes afterwards, I observed General Pack suddenly turn pale, and seem as if going to faint. This was occasioned by a ball which had passed through his leg. He rode slowly to the rear, where he had his wound dressed, and in a few minutes returned again.
Marshal Beresford's artillery having at length arrived, and the Spanish troops being once more brought forward, General Pack rode up in front of our brigade, and made the following announcement: "I have just now been with General Clinton, and he has been pleased to grant my request, that in the charge - which we are now to wake upon the enemy's redoubts, the 42d regiment shall have the honour of leading on the attack: - the 42d will advance." The order was immediately passed along the troops, and I could hear the last words dying away in the distance along our lines.
We immediately began to form for the charge upon the redoubts, which were about two or three hundred yards distant, and to which we had to pass over some ploughed fields. The grenadiers of the 42d regiment, followed by the other companies, led the way, and began to ascend from the road; but no sooner were the feathers of their bonnets seen rising over the embankment, than such a tremendous fire was opened from the redoubts and intrenchments, as in a very short time would have annihilated them. The right wing, therefore, hastily formed into line, and, without waiting for the left, which was ascending by companies from the road, rushed upon the batteries, which vomited forth a storm of fire, grape-shot, and musketry, the most incessant, furious and terrific, I ever witnessed.
Amidst the clouds of smoke in which they were curtained, the whole line of redoubts would every now and then start into view amidst the wild and frightful blaze, and then vanish again into utter darkness. Our men were mown down by sections. I saw six of the company to which I belonged fall together, as if swept away by the discharge of one gun; and the whole ground over which we rushed, was covered with the dead. The redoubts were erected along the side of a road, and defended by broad ditches filled with water. Just before our troops reached the obstruction, however, the enemy deserted them, and fled in all directions, leaving their last line of strongholds in our possession; but they still possessed two fortified houses close by, from which they kept up a galling and destructive fire.
I was then standing at the side of one of the batteries, which we had just taken, along with some of the regiment, and a young officer, one of the tallest and finest looking men I ever beheld. This was the first time he had ever been under fire; but he behaved like a hero, and had snatched up a musket belonging to some soldier who had fallen, with which he was firing away upon the enemy like the most practised veteran. I happened to turn about my head for a moment, and when I looked back again, he was lying stretched on his back, the blood welling from his breast, and his feet quivering in the last convulsions of expiring nature. He had arrived from England only a short time before; and in his march from Passages through France to join his regiment, had been taken prisoner by a marauding party of French in our rear. He had escaped from his guard during a dark night, and concealed himself in a wood for a day or two until they were gone. When almost famished with hunger, he proceeded on his march, and luckily met with a British officer of rank, who supplied him with the means of reaching his regiment. He had joined us only two or three days previous to the battle, and was standing close beside me in the flush of youth, and health, and hope - in the very moment of victory - the proudest one of life: His eye but twinkled once, and he lay a corpse at my feet!
"What art thou Spirit undefin'd,
That passest with man's breath away,
That giv'st him feeling, sense, and mind,
And leav'st him cold unconscious clay?"
While I was yet gazing upon him in a kind of stupor, I received a blow, as if from a huge club on the elbow. A musket-ball had passed through the upper part of my arm, and splintered the bone. I felt stunned, and, in a few moments, became faint, and dizzy, and fell. The first sensation which I was conscious of after my fall, was that of a burning thirst, universally felt after gunshot wounds. I observed our men still falling around me, in consequence of the fire from the two fortified houses, but at last the firing suddenly ceased, and a dead silence ensued. My faintness now beginning to wear off, I raised my head; and through the clouds of smoke which were clearing away, I observed that the road was covered with troops in blue uniform. At first I supposed them to be Spaniards, but was soon undeceived, and discovered them to be French. Out of about 500 men, which the 42d regiment brought into action, scarcely 90 reached the fatal redoubt from which the enemy had fled.
As soon as the smoke began to clear away, they discovered how matters stood, and advanced in great force in order to regain their strongholds. The 42d regiment immediately fell back upon the 79th and some other corps, now moving up to their support. Of these circumstances at the time, however, I was quite ignorant; and as escape was impossible, I lay quietly where I was on the roadside, hoping to avoid notice among the wounded and the dead.
The enemy marched past me in great force, keeping up a tremendous fire, and having drums beating in the rear. The main body had passed without taking any notice of me, when I was seized upon by two stragglers who had loitered behind. They immediately began to rifle my pockets, and one of them was in the act of tearing off my epaulet, when an officer came up, sword in hand, and drove them off, to my great relief. My situation, however, became extremely uncomfortable, as I was exposed to the fire of our own troops who were advancing upon the French to retake the batteries. Believing that the enemy would soon be driven back, and fearing that they might carry me off along with them; I got up, as soon as they were fairly past, and, supporting my wounded arm with the other, began to make the best of my way over the ploughed fields, in order to gain some place of safety; but I had not proceeded far, when I felt myself seized from behind by two French soldiers, who had been loitering in the rear, and who most unceremoniously marched off with me towards Toulouse.
The issue of this last attempt of the enemy to retake their redoubts, is well known; they were a second time repulsed with great loss, and their whole army driven into Toulouse: But I proceed with my personal narrative.
As soon as my conductors and I were out of range of the fire from the British, they allowed me to rest a little, and one of them only remained with me. He presented me with his canteen of wine, and asked me if the French were not a very brave people; which leading question I thought proper to answer in the way he wished. As we proceeded along the road, we met a tall, grim-looking soldier, who eyed me with a ferocious look, and threw a bundle of ball-cartridges at me, by which I received a severe blow on the head. My attendant was abundantly wroth, and, after abusing the ruffian, proceeded with me towards the town.
It was a bright, beautiful evening, as we approached Toulouse. About a hundred yards from the entrance into the town, upon the high road, sat Marshal Soult and his staff on horseback. He was looking earnestly towards the heights, from which he saw his troops beaten back in all directions. I passed close by the Marshal and his generals, who eyed me with a look of grave curiosity.
At last I arrived in the town, which exhibited such a scene of confusion as I never witnessed. Almost the whole French army occupied the streets: the house-tops were covered with crowds, and the windows seemed bursting with the population. All was terror and excitement; for Soult seemed determined to make a stand even in the town, and Wellington commanded a position from which he could reduce it to ashes. I had no sooner entered the streets, than I became so faint and exhausted from fatigue and loss of blood, that I sunk down upon the ground. In a few minutes a French surgeon made his appearance and examined my wound, which he laid open with the knife at both orifices; but so much was my arm deadened by the ball, that I scarcely felt the operation. As soon as it was over, I was escorted by a file of gens d'armes to an hospital, prepared for the reception of the wounded. As we passed along the streets, crowds of ladies rushed out from their houses, and presented me with wines and cordials; and being much exhausted and parched with thirst, I drank largely of every thing they offered me.
Upon arriving at the hospital, I was ushered into an immense room, which was crowded from end to end with the wounded and dying officers of the French army. I was then given in charge to two fat rosy sick-nurses, who, without any coy delays, or the slightest attempt at a blush, stript off my clothes and put me to bed. In a short time afterwards I received a visit from an English physician, who had been long resident in Toulouse. He informed me that the French army would be obliged to retire, and that the inhabitants of Toulouse were well affected towards the English. I expressed a fear, that, in the event of the French army retiring, they might carry me along with them; but he set my mind at ease by informing me, that he had sufficient interest with the medical department to prevent any thing of that sort; and, after promising to repeat his visit, he took his leave.
Towards night I began to fall into a slumber, but was every now and then startled out of it by the cries of the wounded, especially of such as were undergoing amputations.
In the bed next to mine lay an English officer, who had been wounded and taken prisoner; but he was then speechless, and died during the night. On my other side lay a German, an officer in the French service, whose skull had been fractured. He sung and conversed to himself in the wildest manner imaginable; and, about midnight, started out of bed, and marched up and down the room in a state of delirium, quite alarming to the rest of us. He also died in a short time.
Sleep came upon me at last; but it was a sleep of horrors. The various scenes of the preceding day, mixed up with the phantoms of imagination, passed in dire review before me. My friends seemed falling around me; - the thunders of battle were in my ears, and we seemed retreating and closely pursued by the enemy's cavalry. From these imaginary horrors, a return to real pain was a relief. I awoke towards morning with burning thirst, and the taste of sulphur in my throat in consequence of the smoke which I had breathed the preceding day. I was amply supplied with lemonade; but my few attendants allowed me scarce any thing to eat, for fear, as they informed me, of fever.
About ten o clock at night, I observed several officers enter the hospital, and bid adieu to their wounded companions, by which I guessed the French army were about to evacuate Toulouse. Shortly afterwards, there were symptoms of commotion without - the movement of a great army, infantry, cavalry, and artillery, through the narrow streets, with the confusion attending such a scene, produced a great noise, like the roar of the sea after a storm. I listened to the wild sound for hours, till at last it began to wax faint, and die away through the night, when I again sunk into a slumber. On awakening in the morning, I observed a number of priests in the act of administering extreme unction to the dying men by whom I was surrounded; and the moment any of them expired, he was carried but, to make room for some other wounded man, by whom his bed was immediately occupied.
Yet, even in that house of mourning, there occurred one circumstance, which I still think of with peculiar pleasure. About mid-day, a young lady entered the hospital, probably to see some friend or acquaintance among the wounded. In proceeding along the room, she paused opposite to the place where I was lying, and, being informed by one of the sick-nurses in attendance that I was an Englishman, she stept up to my bedside, and gazing on me with a look, in which curiosity was mingled with pity - all at once, yielding to the impulse of her feelings, she bent over me, and, throwing her arms around my neck, pressed her cheek to mine. It was a burst of nature, and but the action of a moment; for she raised herself hastily, glided away, and I never saw her again. Yet, trivial as this circumstance may seem, it remains fair and fresh in my recollection, while weightier matters have been long forgotten; and there are times, even yet, when, in the silence of the night, and far away amidst the dreaming land, my couch seems spread in the hospital of Toulouse; and when, amidst that scene of suffering, my ear is tortured with shrieks of agony, and my sealed eye blasted with heart-rending sights - then, too, smiling away these horrors, the vision of the young French girl breaks upon my dreams, and in all the vividness of reality do I behold her, like a ministering angel, bending over my couch - till once more I feel her dark tresses clustering over my brow, and the pressure of her soft warm cheek to mine. But to return:-
It was not till the mists had cleared away, on the morning of the 12th, that the British army discovered the retreat of the enemy, and began to feel their way towards Toulouse, which they entered very quietly; and it was only by hearing their bands of music that I was made aware of their approach. About noon I was visited by some of my brother officers, who gave me an account of the termination of the battle, and the names of those who had fallen. Though I was no longer a prisoner, the state of my health was such as to prevent my removal from the hospital, where I remained for ten days. On the 12th I heard the sound of cannon at a distance, and must own I felt a kind of pleasure in supposing that it proceeded from some of our artillery who had come up with the enemy.
For several succeeding days, hour after hour, I heard our bands of music playing dead marches through the streets - so numerous were the deaths after the battle; and while, from the room in which I lay, I had a glimpse of the bright blue sky, and heard from without the hum of the world, and the sounds of life and joy, contrasted with the doleful strains which spake of shrouds and graves, and of them for whom light and life existed in vain, I felt as if it were doubly hard to die during the festival of Nature - to leave the "fair day and the green earth," with its leaves amid flowers.
Meantime I was regularly visited by the French surgeons; and on the fourth day after the battle, they came to inspect my wound, bringing with them the instruments of amputation, in case such an operation should be necessary; but luckily it was not. During the period which I remained under their care, they showed me every possible kindness and attention; and when at length I was ordered to be removed to a private house, on which I had received a billet, in order to be under the inspection of the regimental surgeons, they seemed hurt that I should leave the hospital, and made particular inquiries whether or not I had any cause of complaint against them. I also received daily visits from a French lady, a married woman, and the mother of a family, who brought me a regular supply of soups, oranges, spunge-cakes, &c.; so that I may truly say, I could not possibly have received more attention and kindness, if I had been among my own nearest relatives.
Some days after our troops entered Toulouse, I was waited upon by the chaplain of the division to which I belonged, whom some person had sent to me, supposing, perhaps, that I was dying. Associating the idea of the chaplain with that of death, I was not a little startled at seeing the reverend gentleman approach my bedside with a prayer-book in his hand, to proffer spiritual consolation. I assured him, with much eagerness, that I was not in any danger, and, for the present, did not require his assistance. He smiled good humouredly, and said, as I did not seem disposed for prayers, he would, if I had no objections, give me the news of the day. He then informed me of the sortie which the enemy had made from Bayonne, after the battle of Toulouse - of the abdication of Napoleon, and the cessation of hostilities. Upon leaving the French hospital, I was removed to a private house, the only inmate of which that I ever saw was a maid-servant, who divided her attentions pretty equally betwixt myself and a pet-frog which she kept in a large glass phial, as an ornament to the mantel-piece.
The details of a sick-bed are not interesting. Suffice it to say, that, after much pain and suffering, I was obliged, along with the other offlcers, to leave Toulouse about the 19th June - it being an article of the treaty of peace, that no British officer should remain there after that period. I was carried out of the town, and set down upon the banks of the Garronne, where I was allowed to remain for several hours exposed to a broiling sun, and was at length stowed, along with five or six officers, in the same helpless state with myself, in a flat-bottomed boat, having an awning to protect us from the sun. A surgeon was sent along with us, and our servants followed in another boat.
We had not proceeded far on our voyage to Bourdeaux, when the sky became suddenly overcast, and a tremendous thunder-storm ensued, which continued without intermission the whole day, accompanied by torrents of rain, by which we were completely drenched through the awning of our boat. In the evening we landed at a village, on the banks of the river where we passed the night - and on the following morning resumed our voyage. In this manner we proceeded down the river during the day, and landed every night at some village, but suffered the most excruciating pain on being moved from the boat. On these occasions it is but justice to say, that the French soldiers whom we saw, were most ready to lend their assistance in carrying us to and from our quarters in the different villages. In other circumstances, our voyage would have been a most delightful one, - amidst the magnificent scenery of the Garronne, with its beautiful wooded islands and green banks, covered with flocks and dotted with villages.
On the fourth day of our voyage, we arrived at Bourdeaux, where I was lodged in the house of a respectable merchant, from whom I received the greatest kindness. When able to sit up, I dined with the family, and when confined to my room, I was most amply supplied with every luxury of the climate and season. After remaining at Bourdeaux about a fortnight, I embarked for England on board a transport lying in the river, which then presented the animated spectacle of the embarkation of the British army. Boats filled with troops, and serenaded by bands of music, swarmed upon the water; and just as we got under weigh, amid cries of "Huzza for England!" we were answered by sympathetic shouts of joy, proceeding from French prisoners of war arriving from that country, and passing up the river in the ships that were conveying them home.
What must their feelings have been, when, after pining in the prisons of a foreign land, they were again restored to their country! With what throbbings of hope and fear would they approach their several homes! With what trembling hearts would they see the doors unfold - and with what startled feelings would they gaze upon the altered faces of their early friends, or of the strangers announcing to them that those friends had long been sleeping in their graves!
Our fleet passed rapidly down the river, and was soon in the Bay of Biscay. After a voyage of a fortnight, we came in sight of the Land's End, - entered the Channel, and on the following day arrived at Spithead, from whence I was landed at Portsmouth, on the same spot where I had embarked about a year and two months before.
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