I went out to my morning’s walk on the beach. I had it to myself nearly, and heard a sharp firing of both guns, and particularly musketry, sounding quite close to me. Our present object is, I believe, merely to move up our right, for we are much pinched in our present position. We are now with our right at Itoasso, Espellette, and Cambo, on the Nive; our centre at Ustaritz and St. Fé; and our left by Bidart, Ahetze, and Arbonne, all on the Spanish or south side of the Nive. Our object now is to move up the right, nearly or quite to the Adour, most probably, only making a feint at Biaritz and Anglet, near Bayonne, on the left, unless good fortune puts more in our power. We shall then be more at ease, cover more ground, and open a little country on the right for our cavalry to get quarters and accommodation, at least that part which is still with us in front. This, it is believed, is all that is intended at present.
Should the report of the French mayor here prove correct, or the deputy major rather, for the chief is off, namely, that there is an insurrection at Bordeaux, and that the Allies are within fifty leagues of Paris, it may soon be autre chose; but at present we are only, as I hear, taking elbow-room for winter-quarters, and putting ourselves in a position to start when advisable. We shall also see how the French are disposed to fight, and judge a little what forces are gone to the rear. How angry it made me to observe the nonsensical reports in England of our being not only in Bayonne, but in Bordeaux, and this given out formally at the playhouse! To exaggerate just now is so unnecessary, so unreasonable, and so injurious to those who do so much!
Three o’clock.—The firing has continued more or less the whole day, but has now become more distant, and the great guns near Bayonne are heard occasionally. As yet, however, no news, except from a wounded guardsman, just come in, shot in the hand, who says that the Guards are advancing and the French retreating,—I conclude into their lines opposite Bayonne. A fleet of twelve sail, or perhaps fifteen, in sight. Hurrah! for hay and money, we all say! The army is only paid up to May, and the staff to April. It rained much in the night, which was against our movements, but has nearly held up since, though it has just dropped all day.
Friday, the 10th.—Lord Wellington did not return last night, nor the Adjutant-general and grandees. I hear but little except that we crossed the Nive well on the right, but did not make much progress in the course of the day. On our left we did rather more than I expected, and, it is said, pushed on to within a mile of Bayonne, with some loss; so we rested last night, and we have had constant showers, very heavy at times, ever since. This is very much against our arrangements.
Four o’clock.—Here I have remained quiet all day, but in a fidget, for from eleven o’clock there has been continual firing in our front; and, as might be expected, though within six or seven miles of us, we have had all sorts of reports, some rather alarming—to me at least, for I believe Lord Wellington is on the other side of the Nive, with our right, and I have not the same confidence in any one else, especially as only a part of our army is on this side the river. The communication is troublesome, and the French have evidently made a push here to-day in force, whilst our brigades are all separated. The Guards came back here last night to their positions and quarters, and the 5th division to Bidart and its environs. Some Caçadores were surprised, and some were made prisoners, and the French showed themselves in force in this line, and have pushed us back to our old ground before the troops could be collected again.
At two o’clock the firing was so loud, and so near in appearance, that I began to look to my baggage, especially as an order came from the Guards here to turn out again and advance. I have, however, just seen the Commissary-general, Sir R. Kennedy, and he says there is no danger, for he left the French checked by our works on our old position, and met four brigades on the road advancing to assist. He was, however, a little surprised himself at the end of his ride, to see what was going on, for a fire suddenly began across the road where he was looking, near our cavalry, and when he turned about, our guns began across the other way, and he was obliged to get away. One never can be quite secure in these attacks.
I am told that a note was taken from the French General Gautier to the Duke of Dalmatia, which was sent to tell him that a deserter had come in from us at two o’clock, and told him of the intended attack yesterday, and complaining much of desertion on his side. It is very provoking, that our men should betray us in this manner; but it seems to have been of no consequence.
St. Jean de Luz, Head-Quarters, December 11th, 1813.—From report to-day, there were some slight grounds for my uneasiness yesterday. The French made a bold push with nearly four divisions on the high road. We had only one division, or only part of one, at hand ready. Some Portuguese in advance were surprised, and lost prisoners and baggage. The French regained all that they had lost the day before. At about two o’clock they made a push at our position. A Portuguese brigade suffered very much, and it is said dispersed. An English brigade also is reported to have been unlike the rest of late: that is all I can say. Lord Wellington had heard the firing and received intelligence of the attack; he came across the river Nive instantly, and halted the sixth division on this side, which was going over by former orders to act on the other, on the right. The fourth was ordered up to support the light division. Wellington himself was foremost in trying to rally the Portuguese. Both he and his staff were much exposed, and had not often, I hear, been in a warmer fire.
The French were induced to attack our redoubts and position by their successes and numbers. Our reinforcements came up; they were repulsed, driven back with loss, and the ground which we had already gained and lost once, was nearly all in our possession again last night, at the close of day. They talk of a thousand wounded, probably more, on our part. We have taken some prisoners, and many wounded French; at one time, however, a whole regiment of Portuguese, and some English also, were nearly being made prisoners. The Guards, or as they are called here, “the gentlemen’s sons,” were too late, as they had so far to march. They will never learn their trade of being killed properly, if they are thus nursed up in the rear. Their great grievance at present is the order about horses and mules, limiting the numbers to the old regulations, on account of forage, and allowing subaltern officers only their one animal, so that if they ride, they cannot carry anything. If they carry baggage, they must walk; and then when they come into their quarters, and their real duty towards the men commences, they are unfit for anything. The regulation is therefore severe, and most think that it is unnecessarily so.
On the other hand, the present establishment of the Guards is absolutely ridiculous. Every subaltern officer has his two or three horses, and his three or four mules, as much as any staff-officer ought to have. He carries his bed out to the guard-house, or picket, and has his canteen fit to give a dinner and every luxury, whereas one set of canteens per company would, in my opinion, be a liberal allowance. Their General has given them six weeks to comply with this order, but somehow or other they will contrive, probably, to evade it, or they will be the most miserable animals in existence. Whilst they were in camp, they left one officer with the men in camp, and the rest got into houses, whilst in many instances at that time even the Generals in other divisions commanding brigades, were out under canvas (then in the mountains), or at most in huts. Both men and officers are only fit for our old style of expedition,—a landing, a short march, and a good fight, and then a lounge home again. The men were yesterday all sorefooted with their march, but at church last Sunday, in their white linen pantaloons, they looked in high order; and the appearance of the men, the care of their dress, their discipline and general good conduct, is admirable, when in quiet quarters here.