The French, in addition to a few conscripts, who have joined, have called out all the militia in the neighbouring departments. This is a new scene, but I have still great doubts of the policy of entering France at all. The French now suffer severely, and grumble against their own government. Invasion may stir up the strong vanity of a Frenchman, and make him forget his grievances, in order to revenge himself on those who insult his native soil. Five or six subaltern officers have come over here to us; I believe owing to some Spanish connexions generally, or disgust and personal disappointment; and two inhabitants of the village on this side of St. Jean de Luz, Oragne, came over here to avoid serving in the militia, which is now being assembled.
12 o’clock, Friday, 22nd.—Nothing was done yesterday. It was all a false alarm in the front. The French, however, say that we shall be astonished with some extraordinary news in less than three days! Some say they mean from the North, some from Pamplona. If they are bold enough in the latter to dash out in the night against Don Carlos and his Spaniards, I think they would, with the loss of about one-third of their men, fight their way to Jaca, where they have a garrison, and escape. They would of course come out with provisions only, leave mines prepared to add to the confusion, sally out in all directions, and then push on in a body. Don Carlos with all his vigilance would not, in my opinion, be a match for them. He has sent word to the governor that he holds his head answerable for the safety of the works of the town, and two Frenchmen liable to death for every Spanish inhabitant starved.
Saturday, 23rd.—As I have dined alone every day since Sunday last, when I went to Lord Wellington’s, I pick up no news. Your July ‘Edinburgh Review’ is wonderfully fallen off; in parts very tame, and more like a poor imitation of the old ‘Edinburgh Review;’ and yet some of the articles are curious.
We begin to feel the effects of this dangerous coast now. Vessels can even now hardly lie in safety, though shut up in the close harbour of Passages, and the last packet was close in on Sunday last, on the same day on which Major Hare fought his way in, in the Landrail, and was not able to land the mail until yesterday. Major Hare brought papers to the 9th, but scarcely any news. He was closely examined by Lord Wellington when he arrived at dinner-time. He had got up his lesson so badly, that he could answer nothing clearly as to dates, but always ended by a reference to the papers.
It is known that Bonaparte was at Dresden up to the 5th instant, and that nothing was done. This some call bad, some good news. On the whole, I think the latter. Colonel Gordon states that Bonaparte used our position here, as a strong argument with the Emperor of Austria to join him in force, stating nothing could restore matters here but an entire new army of a hundred and fifty thousand men, who had not known the English, and that he should be invaded unless supported by his father-in-law. This is a queer argument to one who, I suspect, was only hesitating through fear of his son-in-law’s strength being too much for the Allies, and would tell the wrong way. He also states, that Lord Wellington’s true account of Vittoria did harm in Germany, being much under the notions they had entertained of it.
Head-Quarters, Vera, October 24 1813.—Post-day. We remain in statu quo. I see the papers have made rather a pretty history of my capture, treating me as an old gentleman (as just now they well may), and that my younger friends got off. In fact, however, the youngest of the party, Jesse, was the first who was taken. There will soon be some dispute here among the artillery and engineers on the subject of rank and brevet rank.
Head-Quarters, Bera, or Vera, October 31st, 1813.—I have been so worried this week with business and other things that I have not been able to write until the very post-day, so this will be short and hasty. The weather has been trying, one day very cold, and I hoped we were to have clear frost, which, in spite of my open room, is, in my opinion, better than wet. The thermometer got down to 36°, close to where I was shaving, three mornings since; but it soon turned to wet—raw, constant, violent cold wet; north-west wind, and rain in repeated stormy torrents. In camp our poor soldiers have had their tents torn, and almost washed away; then we have had hail followed by snow. Colonel Belson has written to me very feelingly, from the mountains, but seems well.
Another drawback as to writing has been this. Three brigades of artillery were moved along La Rhüne mountain, three nights since by night. As they went close to the French pickets, to get from our left to Endage, towards the centre, in our front, they have as yet only reached this vicinity, and have halted here. Amongst them was Colonel Ross’s light troops, and Captain Jenkinson, and young ——; the latter came to me here, very miserable, wet, &c. To save him camp I took him in. Here he has been three days, and with my establishment this saves me some trouble. Besides which, one cannot get on well with business with a chum always at hand, in a small room, night and day. He is pretty well, and I conclude will remain at this place until we move—at least until the army moves, which every one expects as soon as the French will give us up Pamplona. This is en train I conclude. A proposal came out to Don Carlos some days since, but a most unreasonable one; namely, to allow them all to go to France, with arms and baggage, and to be on parole for one year not to serve against us. This was refused. They made a great parade of giving our officers white bread and champagne, and Burgundy, &c., at the interview. So much for humbug. They said, “See how forts we are.” To which we said, “Let us see how your men are.” Every day’s delay now is very provoking. I hope they will soon surrender.
I wish it were possible to get my chum another quarter, for I work in general at breakfast, at dinner, and in the evening, and a companion is a great inconvenience, though he is very considerate. Pray tell his family, the Colonel, &c., how he is. Captain Jenkinson would not go into a house, but pitched his tent in the wet, and went to bed dinnerless, at four o’clock, from fatigue. He is, however, well now. The work of getting guns along over a clay-road, up a mountain, in the dark, without being allowed to use lights, is no trifling undertaking.
The news from the North is very good, especially the accession of the Bavarians to the Allies; which, from the papers I doubted, but which Colonel Gordon says his brother mentions as fact; Lord Wellington tells me, also, that Government at home believe it to be correct. The private letters from the Austrian head-quarters which have reached here, do not say much in favour of the Swedish Prince, and seem to think he has much of French humbug in him—c’est à voir. It is also said that he saves the Swedes, and is always in the rear, surrounded with guards and twenty sentinels. They speak well of the Russian troops, and very ill of the French lads now opposed to them. You will rejoice to hear that we are to have divine service here to-day in the square with some troops. This will not do for me, standing out bareheaded for an hour in the damp; I must remain a heathen a little longer, I fear. Mr. B——, the clergyman who has lately arrived at head-quarters, seemed to be a pleasant gentleman-like man; I have, however, only met him twice.