We have a most tremendous sea here—now worse than ever. The waves at high-water break every time almost over an old wall about twenty feet high on the beach, and come over the stone walk; they roar most furiously, and are beyond anything I have seen. A Paymaster here declares that he saw a brig go down, and disappear instantly, about nine or ten o’clock yesterday, near Andaye. We shall be long, I fear, before we hear again from you in England. I do not think that any ships will venture near us now, certainly not to Passages or here.
Post-day, Sunday, 5th December.—The storms have now subsided, and the sea has become calmer; but the mischief already known has been considerable. The vessel which I mentioned was seen to sink got at last into the Bidassoa; but four transports, it is said, have been lost in Passages harbour, together with several lives. One vessel drove into a house and knocked it down; most of the shipping there is damaged, and many of the boats have been crushed between them. An English merchant-vessel, it is reported, also went down at the entrance of Bayonne. The air is now colder, almost frosty, with a dry wind; the mountains all covered with snow; I only hope this may last. No more news from you, and we are here in a very odd state—I mean that our armies are. A few years back the British were uneasy, in Spain, when a French army patrolled within thirty miles of them. Now we have all got quietly into quarters—are nearly all housed; and three-fourths of us go to sleep tranquilly every night, while our front is within sixty yards of the French.
Colonel S—— tells me that he went to breakfast with Colonel H——, the Assistant Adjutant-general of the sixth division, at Ustaritz, and there they were in a house with their breakfast-table within about fifty yards of the French sentry, and within about two hundred of the whole French picket, who, by one volley, might have broken all their cups and saucers, if not their heads. The other day a Portuguese brigade had a field-day close to the river in the meadows, and all the French came down to look at them, and I have no doubt, from the general report, to admire and approve; whilst, on the other hand, in the meadows on the French side, the French conscripts are brought down to be drilled; sometimes five or six squads are seen at once, and any of the serjeants might be knocked on the head all the time by our sentries; but this is now all well understood, and we thus quietly bully or bravado each other.
Another party of inhabitants have come in here—women and children; the men Soult detains. We shall thus add to our female stock, and to the seven hundred Portuguese women and four hundred Spanish, who are already in this place and the environs as suttlers, vivanderas, washerwomen, &c. In short, here we are in quiet winter-quarters, for a time at least, with head-quarters within seven miles of the French, and yet we are all so at our ease, even in France, that the baggage animals of head-quarters are gone now beyond Tolosa, forty miles and more to the rear, for straw to feed the horses. Lord Wellington told me yesterday there was no forage left here; and I suppose so large an army never staid so long in these mountains. But yet, if a spring campaign comes, no doubt we shall, somehow or other, find all our animals forthcoming, and in a state for service.
The Irish oxen sent out for the Commissariat have proved very good, excellent in comparison, and are served out as a bonne bouche—a pound or two with five or six of the country beef. In short, we have occasionally, of late, had the London alderman’s cry of more fat. Without joking, Lord Wellington’s table is now very good in every respect; and I think his aides-de-camp will be ill with excess, who have this daily fare (unless there is a move), especially if the roads remain too bad for exercise. Lord Wellington has now three cooks, and an English and Spanish chief share the command, and, by dividing the days, vie with each other.
More rain, more rain! I am sorry to say. I have just seen Lord Wellington; he is much annoyed. A poor Commissary under charges has fallen sick. I reported that he was at Passages, too ill to move to be tried, and that I have two certificates of medical men of the necessity of his going to England. Lord Wellington told me to tell the Adjutant-general not to let him get away; and that if he remained too ill to move, we must try him at Passages. It was for violent conduct to another Commissary.
Head-Quarters, St. Jean de Luz, December 8th, 1813.—A packet is just arrived, and I have letters from you of the 22nd ult. and papers to the same date. Letters and papers are, however, here by the same vessel to the 25th. A most remarkable and astonishing paper!
I hope this fine weather will give us some hay from England, for I have now nothing for forage but furze and bran by way of substitute.
By this packet came a long letter from ——; they want me to ask for Captain ——’s promotion. It is my determination not to ask favours, even if I supposed it would be of any use. One promising young officer has, I trust, been saved by me, by inducing him to make, and another to accept, an apology, and Lord Wellington to agree to this. He would, otherwise, most probably on trial have been broken. My letter ordering the Court to meet was taken by the French. This gave time, and opened a long correspondence, which has given me much trouble; this, however, I shall not regret, if it ends well. I must now go and prepare charges against a German doctor for to-morrow, and against two Portuguese for a highway robbery. So adieu.
Thursday, 9th.—All peaceable business has ceased; and here I am in an enemy’s town quite at ease. All the troops advanced about four this morning, and we have here only a provost guard of about forty men, a few straggling guards, and the muleteers, servants and civilians. The French dared not to have remained so in any town in Spain, much less in Portugal.