This small, dirty place, Lezaca, is a curious scene of bustle just now; crowded with Spanish fugitives—the head-quarters no small body, with all our stragglers and those of Longa’s, who are more numerous (he having a quarter here now, and looking like an English butcher in a handsome hussar dress), with abundance of Spanish and Portuguese officers (for both troops are near), as well as with English, with wounded and prisoners passing, with mules and muleteers innumerable, besides all the country people who come here to turn all they have got into money. Noises of all sorts; thrashing all going on in the rooms up stairs; the corn then made into bread and sold in one corner; “aguardente” being cried all about; lemonade (that is, dirty water and dark-brown sugar) the same; here a large pig being killed in the street, with its usual music on such occasions; another near it with a straw fire singeing it, and then a number of women cutting up and selling pieces of other pigs killed a few hours before. Suttlers and natives with their Don Quixote wineskins all about, large pigskins, and small ditto, and middling ditto, all pouring out wine to our half-boozy, weary soldiers; bad apples and pears, gourds for soup, sour plums, &c., all offered for sale at the same moment. Perpetual quarrels take place about payment for these things between the soldiers of the three allied nations and the avaricious and unreasonable civilian natives; mostly, however, between Spaniards and Spaniards. The animals eating green Indian corn almost against every house here and in the churchyard, which contains four tents, from the want of stables and of quarters. Not the least curious or noisy in this confusion, are about fifteen men and women with fresh butter 4s. the pound, who are come from near St. Andero and beyond it—a stout race dressed in a curious, peculiar manner, who contrive to bring butter on their heads in baskets for above a fortnight together, and sell it at last in a state that I am very glad to eat it for breakfast for ten days after it arrives. It forms a sort of very mild cream cheese, in fact.
Head-Quarters, Lezaca, August 9th.—You ask me if Lord Wellington has recollected —— with regard? He seems to have had a great opinion of him, but scarcely has ever mentioned him to me. In truth, I think Lord Wellington has an active, busy mind, always looking to the future, and is so used to lose a useful man, that as soon as gone he seldom thinks more of him. He would be always, no doubt, ready to serve any one who had been about him, or the friend of a deceased friend, but he seems not to think much about you when once out of the way. He has too much of everything and everybody always in his way, to think much of the absent. He said the other day, that he had great advantages now over every other General. He could do what others dare not attempt; and he got the confidence of all the three allied powers, so that what he said or ordered was, right or wrong, always thought right. “And it is the same,” said he, “with the troops. When I come myself, the soldiers think what they have to do the most important, since I am there, and that all will depend on their exertions. Of course, these are increased in proportion, and they will do for me what perhaps no one else can make them do.” He said, “he had several of the advantages possessed by Bonaparte, in regard to his freedom of action and power of risking, without being constantly called to account: Bonaparte was quite free from all inquiry, and that he himself was in fact very much so. The other advantages which Bonaparte possessed, and of which he made so much use,” Lord Wellington said, “was his full latitude of lying; that, if so disposed,” he said, “he could not do.”
You ask about my health—I think this hole in the mountains unwholesome: the place is so full, and without drainage; the air heavy and oppressive; it is like Devonshire, warm moisture constantly. I long to be on the mountains, to get air and braced up. It has rained nearly all the last twenty-four hours.
August 10th.—I have just seen Lord Wellington, about some more than usually important business: he is better, but not well. He has given me an immense bundle of English and Spanish papers to peruse and examine. The enclosed plan may help you a little to understand the Gazette, and my letter; remember it is only my hasty personal sketch in pen and ink, on no scale, and taken from no regular document.
11th, Post-day.—I worked very hard all yesterday, and could not get through Lord Wellington’s papers. I am still at work at the last part of them: a Spanish narrative of all the Spanish operations of a Spanish army for a month, by their General Copons. It consists of sixty-four sides of foolscap in a Spanish hand. There is nothing new. Lord Wellington will give a dinner to-morrow, in honour of the Prince Regent’s birthday, to all the heads of departments, to which I am invited. There are reports of the French moving already, but I believe all lies as yet. Do not be too sanguine about Suchet. He may retire, but will hardly be forced out of the country, for there are forty thousand French on that side of Spain. The Spanish Government have given Lord Wellington a handsome royal estate near Granada; he told me this yesterday.
Head-Quarters, Lezaca, August 13th, 1813.—Here I am, and very busy still, and with no events to communicate. All is now quiet for the present, as at Frenada, though this cannot last long. Having the paper by me, however, I determined to place this letter upon the stocks, against the next post-day.
Yesterday I dined at Lord Wellington’s, with a party of thirty-six, to keep the Prince Regent’s birthday. Eight mules had arrived in the morning with prog and wines from Bilboa, and we had therefore a good feast, and some very good claret of Majoribanks and Paxton. The party was very dull, though many grandees were present—Castanos, O’Donnell, the General of the army of the reserve (the best Spaniards I have seen, and now on the hill above us, with something like a Commissariat, &c.), their aides-de-camp, &c., Generals Cole, Anson, Murray, Pakenham, &c. Two bands were in attendance those of the Fusiliers and the 7th. Fuento, the Spanish Commissary, gave us “God save the King,” and Lord Wellington’s favourite, “Ah Marmont, onde va Marmont?” but it was very hot and stupid; every one here, in fact, is fagged, and half done up. Lord Wellington could scarcely rise when he sat down, or sit down when he rose, from lumbago, and was in great pain, but is much better; all around him looked pale and worn. I think, however, we shall be up to another brush again soon.
We are soon about to begin again at St. Sebastian; but it is to be feared that it will be hard and bloody work, unless some piece of good luck should arise in our favour.
Later.—I have just been to Lord Wellington, with the result of my labours, which have amused him much, and which he thinks I cannot be correct in, as to facts; or if so, the whole, he concurs with me, is most extraordinary. He has now got the papers and my statement to examine. It is not, in my opinion, the Spanish General who was to blame; I must not explain more at present; he seemed pleased, and asked me to dinner again to-day. We have a stray paper to the 4th, which has set us all agog; but I have only heard the news concerning Lord Aberdeen, and it does not seem quite certain that there is to be an ambassador from England to the Congress. The French nation, or rather the news through France, is I hear all for peace, and the Rhine and the Pyrenees are to be the boundaries, Jerome King of Holland, and Joseph King of Italy; this is only French rumour.
I am told that Soult says he will be here the day after to-morrow, the 15th, and has two bridges ready near Irun, to come on our left; he would only come there, for I think we should be able to do something. We are well up for an attack there; four hours would put the divisions here on that flank, Spaniards, &c.