The Campaigns of the British Army at Washington and New Orleans 1814-1815 | Page 9

was composed of a number of small fishing vessels
fastened together with cords, and planked from one to another, the
whole firmly moored about three miles below Bayonne. Whether the
daringness of the attempt, or the difficulties surmounted in its
completion, be considered, the construction of this bridge may be
looked upon as one of the most extraordinary actions of that
extraordinary man. ---------------------------
As soon as we had cleared the entrenchments of Bayonne, and got
beyond the limits of the allied camps, we found ours in a country more
peaceful and more picturesque than any we had yet traversed. There
were here no signs of war or marks of violence. The cottages were
covered with honeysuckle and roses, the gardens were blooming in the
most perfect order; the corn was growing in great plenty and richness,
and the vines were clustering round their poles like the hops in the
gardens of Kent. It is impossible to describe the feeling of absolute
refreshment which such a sight stirred up in men who, for so long a
time, had looked upon nothing but ruin and devastation. It is true that
with respect to grandeur, or even beauty, the scenery through which we
now travelled was not to be compared with the sublime passes of the
Pyrenees, or with many spots which we had beheld; but in truth, a
hamlet uninjured and tenanted by its own rude peasantry, a field of
Indian corn exhibiting no wasteful track of foragers, nay, a single
cottage with its flowers and evergreens budding around it, was at this a
more welcome object to our eyes than the wildest mountains or most
romantic valleys displaying no habitations except white tents and no
inhabitants except soldiers. For my own part I felt as if I had once
more returned into the bosom of civilized and domestic life, after
having been for many months a wanderer and a savage.
The road along which we proceeded had been made by Napoleon, and
was remarkably good. It was sheltered, on each side, from the rays of
the sun, by groves of cork-trees mingled with fir; by which means,
though the day was overpoweringly hot, we did not suffer so much as
we should otherwise have done. Our march was, therefore, exceedingly
agreeable, and we came in, about noon, very little fatigued, to the
village of Ondres, where the tents were pitched, and we remained till

the morrow.
CHAPTER III.
LES LANDES
THE dawn was just beginning to appear, when the bugles sounded, and
the tents were struck. For the first few leagues, our route to-day
resembled that of yesterday, in almost every particular. There was the
same appearance of peaceful quiet, the same delightful intermingling of
woods, corn-fields, vineyards, and pasture; but we had not proceeded
far, when a marked difference was perceptible; every step we trod, the
soil became more and more sandy, the cultivation less frequent, and the
wood more abundant, till at last we found ourselves marching through
the heart of an immense forest of pines. We had diverged, it appeared,
from the main road, which carries the traveller through a rich and open
country, and were pursuing another through the middle of those deserts
and savannahs which lie towards the coast; a district known by the
name of les Landes. There was something, if not beautiful, at least new
and striking in the scenery now around us. Wherever the eye turned, it
was met by one wide waste of gloomy pine-trees; diversified, here and
there, by the unexpected appearance of a modest hamlet, which looked
as if it were the abode of some newly arrived settlers in a country
hitherto devoid of human habitations.
Were I to continue the detail of a long march through these barren
regions, I should soon fatigue, without amusing my reader: I shall,
therefore, content myself with observing, that day after day the same
dreary prospect presented itself, varied by the occasional occurrence of
huge uncultivated plains, which apparently chequer the forest, at certain
intervals, with spots of stunted and unprofitable pasturage; upon these
there were usually flocks of sheep grazing, in the mode of watching
which, the peasants fully evinced the truth of the old proverb, that
necessity is the mother of invention. I do not know whether the practice
to which I allude be generally known, but as it struck me as very
remarkable, I shall offer no apology for relating it.

The whole of this district, as well where it is wooded, as where it is
bare, is perfectly flat, containing scarcely a knoll or eminence any sort,
as far as the eye can reach. In addition to this, the vast plains where the
sheep are fed, many of which extend two or three leagues in every
direction, produce not so