Blackwood's Edinburgh Magazine, Volume 68, No. 417, July, 1850

The spring of the year 1559 found the Guises in marked disfavour with the King. The great services of the Duke, the capture of Calais and Thionville, and the many other feats of arms by which he had reduced the power of the enemy, at moments when it was about to be fatal to France, were insufficient to counterbalance the alarm felt by Henry II. at his and the Cardinal's influence and ambition. The star of the Constable was in the ascendant. Chiefly by his intervention, a disadvantageous peace was concluded, and, at his request, d'Andelot was recalled to court. Montmorency and Coligny triumphed. The efforts of the Protestants combined with court intrigues to ruin the credit of the house of Lorraine. The two brothers were attacked on all sides, and in every manner: epigram and satire furiously assailed them, and they were denounced as aspiring, one to the tiara, the other to the crown of France. However doubtful – or at least remote from maturity – these projects were, they were yet sufficiently probable for their denunciation to produce the desired effect on the mind of Henry, already writhing impatiently under the domination of the Guises, against whom he was further prejudiced by his mistress, the Duchess de Valentinois, (Diane de Poitiers,) still influential, in spite of her threescore winters. Never had circumstances been so menacing to the fortunes of the Guises; and perhaps it was only the subtle and temporising line of conduct they adopted in this critical conjuncture, that saved them from utter disgrace and downfall. Things had been but a short time in this state, and already, from the skilful manœuvres of the Cardinal, their side of the balance acquired an upward inclination, when the whole aspect of affairs was changed by the death of Henry II. With the reign of his feeble successor, there commenced for the restless princes of Lorraine a new epoch of power and renown.

MY PENINSULAR MEDAL

BY AN OLD PENINSULARPART VIII. – CHAPTER XIX

Now for the fight. On the morning of the battle of Toulouse we left Grenade. It was known amongst us that the battle was coming off; and we started in the expectation of passing the night either in the city itself, or in its immediate vicinity. We ascended towards the city by the left bank of the Garonne, but reached a pontoon bridge, which enabled us to cross to the right bank, where the main body of our troops was posted. The fight had commenced. We heard the firing as we advanced; and while we approached the scene of action, it became gradually louder and more distinct. Immediately in the rear of the British lines we halted, not knowing the ground, and withdrew from the road into a field which was close at hand, in order that our numerous party might not prove an obstacle to passing troops, ammunition, or artillery. Our forces held the low ground, and closed, in a sort of semicircle, around the heights occupied by the French. As it so happened that I was not only at this battle, but in it, I here beg leave to relate the circumstances which led to my finding myself in a position where, as a civilian, I was so little wanted, and so much out of my ordinary sphere of duty.

Sancho did it all. We were sitting upon our nags, speculating upon the fight, and seeing all that could be seen, till we began to think we knew something of what was going on. At this moment rode up from the rear, coming across the fields, an old officer of rank, a major-general, well known at headquarters, without aide-de-camp, orderly, or any kind of attendant. He inquired eagerly, "Where are the troops? – Where are the troops?" We pointed forward; little was visible but trees. He looked rather at a loss, but turned his horse's head in the direction we had indicated. That villain Sancho, seeing another horse go on, snorted, and pulled at the bridle. He was tired of standing still. I, ever indulgent to Sancho, followed the old general, and soon overtook him. "I believe I know the position of the troops, sir. Will you give me leave to show you?"

"Thank you, sir, thank you," said he; "I shall really be much obliged."

We rode on till we reached a British regiment, drawn up in line. With renewed acknowledgments he then took his leave. The air was musical above our heads with whistling and humming missiles. I was now fairly upon the ground, and didn't like to go back.

There was a lull in the fight. The spectacle was singular. Some firing was kept up on both sides, but not sufficient to obscure the view of the French position, which rose immediately in front, a bare range of hills, crowned by their redoubts. The atmosphere was bright; and though the skirmishers on the declivity were discoverable only by small white jets of smoke, as they fired from time to time, every movement of the enemy on the summit, with the sky for its background, was perfectly visible. I noticed a single horseman, probably an aide-de-camp bearing orders, as distinct and diminutive as if seen through the wrong end of a telescope. You might perceive the very action of his horse, that laborious up-and-down gallop of the French manége, which throws away so much of the animal's strength, and sacrifices speed without securing elegance.

The combat, at this moment, was renewed, and our troops went to work in earnest. The Spanish army ascended the hill to assault the enemy's redoubts. This movement, at first, had all the regularity of a review. But the redoubts opened their fire; as the Spaniards moved up, the smoke rolled down; and, when the wind swept it away, their broken bands were seen in precipitate retreat, followed by a large body of the French, who swarmed out from their intrenchments. Instantly, and just in front of me, our artillery opened upon the pursuing foe. The round-shot plumped into their columns, knocking up clods as high as a house; and the enemy, not relishing this salutation, hastily fell back to their former position. Sancho now became a dreadful plague. He had for some time been getting unquiet, and, with the continual firing, he grew worse and worse. I believe this was his first battle, as it was mine. Not content with a little extra restiveness at every fresh discharge of artillery, he had worked himself into a state of chronic excitement, and, at intervals, attempted to bolt. It was clear I must get rid of Sancho, or see no more of the fight; so I deposited him in a stable, under care of a cottager, in the adjoining village.

Still moving towards the left, along the base of the hill, I reached a part of the British position, where a number of our troops were waiting to storm the heights, when the flank movement against the enemy's right, which was his weakest point, should be sufficiently advanced. All at once I plumped upon "Cousin Tom," whom I had not met since he embarked, three years before, a raw subaltern, at Portsmouth. There he now stood, as large as life, rough and ugly, at the head of his regiment, a regular "Old Peninsular;" and on him had devolved the duty, as he gave me to understand, of "taking those fellows up the hill." This service, I thought, would have fallen to some officer of higher rank; but Tom explained. The regiment having been reduced, either by losses or detachment, its numbers in the field were small, and he, being the senior officer present, of course had to "carry them up." "Come," said he, "we are going to take a look at those monsieurs above there; you may as well go with us."

The proposal was coolly made, so I took it coolly. "With all my heart," said I. "You know what is the feeling towards an amateur. If he makes an ass of himself, he's laughed at; and if he gets hit, they only say, it serves him right. If it's of any use, I'll go with pleasure."

"Use?" said Tom; "the greatest use. Why, I want to ask you twenty questions about friends in England. Besides, you know, if I am knocked over, you can pick me up."

"Very well, then; and you can do the same for me."

"No, no," said cousin Tom; "I don't promise that. Got my men to attend to. If I am hit, you must take care of me. If you are hit, you must take care of yoursel – Oh, that's the signal. Come along." Away we went, up the hill.

Rank and file – double-quick time – a capital pace for opening the chest. Tom took it easy, trotting on at a steady pace, and assailing me with a running fire of questions; while the row that had already commenced above prevented my returning categorical replies. "Is your father at sea now?" – Bang! from one of the big guns in the French batteries right over our heads. "Got any brandy?" – A shout from a thousand throats, in the rush and shock of a charge with bayonets. "Had breakfast this morning?" – Pop! pop! pop! a running fire of musketry. Pop! pop! pop! "Got any cigars?" – Bang! bang! the big guns at it again. "When did you hear from your mother?" A new sound, less loud and sudden, but, from its peculiarity, distinct amidst the din; a spiteful, whirling, whizzing noise, ten thousand skyrockets combined in one; not, though, like the skyrocket, first loud, then less audible – quite the contrary. Commencing with a faint and distant hiss, it grew louder and louder, came singing on, nearer and nearer, till a shell dropped a few yards in front of our column! The hiss was now an angry roar, like the blowing off of steam. There lay the bottled demon, full in our path, threatening instant destruction, and daring us to advance. Our column halted. "Hurra! my lads," cried Cousin Tom, waving his sword. "Come along, old Five-and-threepennies. Push by it at once, before it spreads." The game old Five-and-threepennies gave a shout – rushed forward – got by in time; each yelping and capering as he passed the fizzing foe. Bang went the shell. For a few seconds I was stone deaf. Never felt such an odd sensation. Not the deafness, but the return of hearing. First, perfect silence in the midst of the turmoil – then the crack! crack! bang! bang! as if you had suddenly flung open a door. Not a man of us was hurt. "Got an English paper?" said Tom.

"I've got some intelligence for you, old chap, not in this morning's Times. Just look up there, in front."

The view in front was striking and picturesque. Right above us, dimly visible through the smoke, on the verge of the platform or table-land which we were mounting to assault, appeared a regiment of French infantry, enough of them to eat us up, advancing upon us with an irregular fire, and led on by their colonel. He rode a showy horse; and, hat in hand, waved them on, while his white hairs streamed in the wind, and his whole bearing announced the brave old soldier. "We must form line," said Tom. It was done forthwith, with steadiness, order, and rapidity. "Make ready – present – fire." Crack! went all the muskets together. I saw the gallant old colonel, with outspread arms, tumbling from his horse. – "Charge!" We rushed upon the foe; but, when the smoke had cleared away, found no foe to fight withal. Nothing was visible, save their knapsacks in the distance, poppling up and down in the smoke, as they scampered off. We still continued advancing in pursuit, and now were fairly in for it, half choked with dust and sulphur. If it be asked, how far I personally contributed to the triumphs of that glorious day, I beg leave to answer: – Unquestionably my arm performed prodigies of valour; of that there neither is, nor can be, the shadow of a doubt. But as I should have felt it extremely difficult to give a distinct account of my exploits if questioned on the day, why, of course you won't expect it now, after the lapse of six-and-thirty years. Suffice it to say, we made good our footing on the platform, drove the enemy from their position, occupied it ourselves, took possession of their redoubts, and formed, with the rest of the British forces, on the summit of the heights. The day was our own. But there was one unfortunate circumstance to damp our exultation; Cousin Tom was missing. A sergeant now informed me he was wounded, and had gone to the rear.

CHAPTER XX. AND LAST

As victory had crowned our efforts, and my valuable services were now no longer required, I determined to look for Cousin Tom, and walked down the hill for that purpose. At its base, I entered a long thicket or shrubbery. There, amongst the trees, I found several wounded men, whom their comrades were removing off the ground. No one could give me the information that I sought; no one knew anything of Cousin Tom. Saw a sergeant sitting on a bank, who, I soon discovered, was also wounded. He knew no such officer; had seen no one answering the description. "What's your injury, sergeant?"

"A musket-ball in my ankle, sir."

"Well, but hadn't I better help you to a place of shelter?"

"Much obliged to you, sir; but I couldn't walk, even with your support. I'd rather wait till my turn comes to be carried, if you've no objections, sir. Much obliged to you, equally all the same, sir."

"As you please. Can I render you any assistance? What can I do for you?"

"If you'd have the kindness, sir, perhaps you'd be so good and take off my gaiter. I can't take it off myself, sir, though I've tried; it does hurt me so when I stoop forward. I'm afraid the bleeding will spoil it, sir; and then I shall be forced to take out a new pair."

Having performed this office, and administered a little brandy both topically and constitutionally, I once more ascended the hill, thinking it possible Cousin Tom might be somewhere nearer the scene of action. I inquired and looked in every direction, but without success. Where are you, Cousin Tom? This time my steps brought me into one of the redoubts, which had been carried by our troops. When I entered, there were not a dozen men in it. Sunset was near, and everything over for the day. Yet just at that moment, for what reason I know not, perhaps for a freak, the enemy thought fit to open upon this all but unoccupied post, from their own lines nearer the city, with a heavy fire of shot and shell. Bang went a shell, knocking up bushels of earth and mire. Plump came a round-shot, into the mud parapet of the redoubt. It was no use moving; one place was as hot as another. So we had nothing to do for it but to stand still and exchange grins till the pelting was over. I then took my leave for the evening. The day indeed was drawing to a close as I descended the hill; and happily I succeeded in reaching the village, and finding the cottage where Sancho had been left in charge, just after it became pitch-dark. A cheering light streamed through the cottage window; and, on entering, I found comfortably seated by the blazing hearth a veterinary surgeon, who was there in charge of wounded horses. He very civilly informed me there were two good beds, so all was right with respect to accommodation; and, more civilly still, invited me to partake of his supper, which was boiling on the fire. Not having eaten a morsel since my early breakfast at Grenade, and having just discovered that I was enormously hungry, I accepted the invitation with glee, took my seat, and cast many a glance at the boiling, bubbling, and steaming kettle. Presently the contents were turned out into a large, old-fashioned tureen, and displayed to my eager gaze a compound of various materials, the chief of which were a fowl, and – what d'ye think? – a pig's heart. Supper excellent. Bed ditto.

Next day early I resumed my search for Cousin Tom, but still, alas! without success. Went from village to village, inquired from house to house, searched the whole neighbourhood. Lots of wounded officers, but not the man I sought. Throughout the day my search was unsuccessful. Towards night I was passing through a street of scattered houses, a sort of hamlet, and was beginning to think of securing a lodging and a dinner. Wolves rouse at sunset; and I distinctly felt one gnawing at my stomach. At this painful juncture, much to my satisfaction, at the door of a cottage I discovered a jolly acquaintance, whom I beg to introduce as my "Fat Friend." He was one of the smartest clerks amongst our civilians, and probably the youngest; under, rather than over fifteen; in short, a chubby boy, who somehow or other had broken away from his mother's apron-strings, and obtained a post, which he filled in a way that did him credit. In one respect he was precocious; namely, that he soon proved himself up to all the waggery and villainy of headquarters. Moreover, he had a vast idea of maintaining his importance, and could take his own part; was touchy in anything that affected his manhood; and, if you offended him, punched your head; brushed up to fine women, with a marked preference for a bouncer. Yet, after all, he was but an overgrown boy, and often afforded us sport by his mannish airs. "Ah, Fatty, is that you? Glad to see you. Got any room?"

"Plenty, plenty," said Fatty; "good entertainment for man and horse. Glad to see you; and glad to see the pony. Here, Francisco, take Sancho, and give him some corn. Come in, old fellow. Sit down, and make yourself comfortable. Dreadful dull here – horrid! Left in charge of the departmental boxes."

"I say, Fatty; have you dined?"

"Dined? We dined an hour ago." Fatty saw his advantage, and was resolved to make the most of it.

"Well, what did you have for dinner? Got any cold beef?"

"Why, where have you been?" said Fatty; "haven't seen you these two days. Oh, I suppose you got into Toulouse. Lots of fine gals?"

"Answer my question, and I'll answer yours."

"Come out, old fellow. Let's take a turn through village before it gets dark. Dinner? Why, a turkey. Sorry you were not with us to partake. Not a morsel left. Picked the old gobbler clean, drumsticks and all."

"I wish you'd let me send your fellow for some beef."

"Oh yes," said Fatty, "send him by all means. Sorry to inform you it's no use, though. Not a morsel of rations to be had; not a biscuit. What, haven't you dined?" I saw he meant to have his joke, so made no reply.

There was a dodge, though; my remedy was in my pocket. Brought out a cigar, one of my choice grenadiers; struck a light, blew a fragrant cloud, took it easy. The rich odour diffused itself through the apartment.

Fatty, knowing in cigars, soon discovered that mine was no common weed. He first drew a sniff; then gave utterance to his emotions in a coaxing and admiring "Oh!" I took no notice.

"Come, old fellow," said Fatty; "hand out one of those."

"Lost your cigar-case?"

"No, no; nonsense. Come, give us one; that's a good chap."

Failing in his request, Fatty sat silent and fidgetty. The first finished, I lit a second.

Fatty watched his opportunity; made a vicious grab at the case. I was too quick for him – knew his ways. Down he sat again; tried all the varieties of entreating, threatening, bullying, wheedling, till cigar the second was burnt out. When I extracted the third, Fatty could stand it no longer; made a rush, and commenced a ferocious assault, pitching it in, right and left. The punches came so fierce and fast, I was at length compelled, in self-defence, to administer a slight persuader, and Fatty found it convenient to resume his seat. He sat awhile, sulky and all but blubbering; then hastily rose, and stalked out of the room in high dudgeon. I presently found him stationed at the front door with his hands in his pocket, very pensive and dignified. Shortly after, he slipped into the house; Francisco appeared with the tablecloth and a bottle of wine; then came half a turkey and the cold beef. After dinner we clubbed our resources, and closed the evening with whisky punch and prime cigars.

Next morning early, started afresh in search of Cousin Tom. Near Toulouse, fell in with Gingham – told him my difficulties. "Come up the hill," said Gingham; "I'll go with you. There, no doubt, we shall find your cousin's regiment." On reaching the summit of the heights, we found our way in the first instance into the Colombette redoubt; the same in which, on the day of the fight, the brave Forty-second had been suddenly overwhelmed by a superior force, and had lost four-fifths of its numbers. Within the redoubt were standing two or three privates; they belonged to the Forty-second. The uniform at once reminded me of Corporal Fraser, the trusty companion of my march to headquarters. I asked one of the privates, did he know the Corporal. "He joined about three weeks ago, sir."

"Hope he's well. Where is he now?"

"He's there, sir," said the man, pointing to the parapet of the redoubt. I looked, but saw no one.

"The earth," said Gingham, "seems to have been recently stirred there. That mound, I think, is not many days old." Then, addressing the soldier, "your regiment suffered a heavy loss. Is that where you buried after the action?"

"That's the place, sir." The man then walked away, as if little disposed for conversation.

We did not pause to calculate how many bodies would fill a space commensurate with the length, breadth, and altitude of the soil displaced. There lay the slain of a gallant regiment, in the redoubt they had so nobly won. There lay Corporal Fraser, who, in all the difficulties of our march, had shown himself trustworthy, fearless, intelligent, and energetic. He had longed to join ere the day of combat, and had found a soldier's grave.

We discovered at length the sergeant who had informed me of my cousin's wound. He now pointed to a large house, near the thicket at the bottom of the hill. While searching for Cousin Tom on the day of the fight, I was close to that same house, but without seeing it. From our present elevated position it was distinctly visible, though not from the low ground, amongst trees and underwood.

Our approach to the house led us through the thicket. While making our way among the trees, we both, Gingham and I, came to a halt at the same instant. The sight which arrested our steps was new to Gingham, not to me. I saw, on that spot, an object that I had seen two days before. The sergeant whom I had then found wounded was still sitting there, on the same bank, in the same attitude! There he had sat the whole time, overlooked by the bearers, and unable to move. Viewed at the distance of a few paces, his aspect scarcely appeared changed. It was the identical figure – I remembered him at once. But on a nearer inspection, the alteration was but too manifest. His eye was glazed, and half shut. His face was that of a corpse. He sat up, like a dead man galvanised. "What, still here, sergeant? Has nobody come to remove you yet."

He attempted to speak – paused – at length found utterance. "Sorry I didn't accept your offer, sir." His voice was low and husky, but distinct.

"Come," said Gingham, "you mustn't refuse this time. We'll soon carry you into the house just by."

"Thank you, sir; thank you, gentlemen. Would you have the kindness though – I should be sorry to lose my gaiter."

The gaiter secured, we prepared to lift the sufferer from his seat, and he on his part made a feeble effort to rise. The attempt brought on a gush of pain. For a moment, his features were distorted with intolerable anguish; the next, he fainted in our arms.

"Now then," said Gingham, thrusting back into his sidepocket a small flask which he had just drawn out. "Now then; away with him at once, before he recovers. Come, Mr Y – ; you take his shoulders, I'll take his legs. It may save him further pain."

We bore the sufferer, still senseless, to the house. Gingham, not having a hand to spare, banged at the door with his foot. It was opened by Mr Staff-surgeon Pledget, who bowed on recognising us, but looked rather perplexed at the unexpected addition to his duties.

Pledget gave instant directions for the accommodation of the wounded man, and informed me, in reply to my inquiries for Cousin Tom, that he had an officer under his care, answering to my description. Pledget appeared bewildered, and stood with us in the passage a few moments, without speaking. At length he opened the door of a small chamber close by, and begged us to enter. He placed chairs for us, and seated himself on the bed. "I'm rather exhausted," said he.

"I fear after such a fight," said Gingham, "your duties must be heavy indeed."

"Oh yes," said Pledget, looking distressed and rather wild. "I have had much work, and little assistance; a long spell, too."

"Why, you began, I suppose," replied Gingham, "early on the day of the fight."

"Yes," said Pledget; "and I've been at it ever since. Let me see: two days and two nights, isn't it? Yes, and now going on for the third. Here have I been operating, bandaging, taking up arteries, taking off arms and legs, night and day, without time to lie down, almost without a moment to eat. In fact," said he, looking about the room like a man lost, "this is the first time I've sat down these eight-and-forty hours."