I met young ——, an ensign in the Guards, yesterday, a son of Lord ——. He is a very gentleman-like stripling of nineteen, talks of just remembering Sir John Moore’s death, as the beginning of his political knowledge, and something about General Castanos, and the first Spanish publication of Cevallos, but is quite in a wilderness when you talk of the old state of Europe before the French Revolution. He now principally talks of the table, and who gives best wines and dinners, and found fault with General ——’s, which I must say appeared to me most luxurious, and reminded me of fine dinners in London.
Ten o’clock.—Hurrah! hurrah! I have just been called out to see three small battalions of deserters pass by with drums beating, and colours flying, with their arms and everything in the highest condition, and clothing nearly new. Two battalions of the regiment De Nassau, and one of the regiment De Frankfort, in the whole twelve hundred men. This is a grand consequence of our push, and must alarm the French not a little. I should not be surprised now if we advance soon, whatever might have been our former plans. Lord Wellington was out again in the front this morning, up at three and out in the dark. He returns to dinner to-day, and has invited the German Colonels and the Majors, six of them, to dinner, to which he means to return. He has also desired that they may now have their breakfasts, the whole remain in quarters here for the night, and proceed to-morrow for Passages, I presume, though it is several miles off, as the Spaniards occupy all the places between, except Irun, which is voted unwholesome and feverish. Irun will scarcely give a quarter to an English officer, and not to our detachments coming up to join, who have to march through here always; so I conclude that they would not do more for the Germans who have once served with the French. The only drawback to these good tidings is the thought of the poor wounded, crawling in, on foot, or on cars, and on mules, crying with the pain of the motion. It is now quite fine, and I must take my promenade by the sea; so, for the present, adieu.
Later, the 11th.—Major D—— has found a friend in the Colonel of the regiment which came over, and who has told him how it happened and was managed. An officer from the North had found the way to him (the Colonel) all through France, with an order from his real sovereign to go over to us, and come and join him. He communicated his plan to no one but the Major (one Major). They waited their opportunity, and when it arose last night, he called the officers together, told them his order and his resolution, and proposed it to them, but said he should force no one; it must be voluntary. All agreed—and the men were too happy to join in the plan. One officer was sent to give us notice and clear the way, and to prevent any resistance or confusion. He was also to make terms that they were not to be compelled to serve, &c. The officer, however, did not like going back, and before any message was sent, over they all came. On their arrival here to-day, just out of the town, they halted, and put on their best clothes to pass through in parade order, and very well they looked I assure you. They say that there are many Spanish, and two good regiments of cavalry who would probably come over if a pardon were held out to them, and that there are a number of Dutch all ready to do the same thing, but they are principally officers, and are not in a body. They are tumultuous and troublesome, and only wait the proper occasion.
The Colonel, K——, has written to Marshal Soult, telling him why he came over; that he was ordered so to do, and after reminding him that so long as they were French, and he with the French, he had done his duty. In return, he requests (rather an impudent request) that the women and the baggage, or at least the baggage soldiers and servants, may be allowed to join the regiments. He also asks that his band, which he says was excellent, as it was his hobby-horse, and which was of course left behind, may be allowed to join the rest. Of this, however, he has no hopes, for his band was always a subject of considerable jealousy to the French before he left them, and he is sure they will keep it now for themselves.
I also hear that our staff officers were obliged to exert themselves very much in consequence of the dispersion of the Portuguese, and the reluctance of some of our own forces. Colonel Delancey took one colour, and rode on before the regiments to carry them on. General Hope was much exposed, and got two blows; one on the shin, and one on his side, but of no consequence. General Pakenham had a horse shot under him—his best charger. General Robinson is shot through the body; a bad wound. Two of General Sir S. Cotton’s officers, his aide-de-camps, who were there as amateurs, suffered. One coming home was shot in the thigh. Many others had narrow escapes, and Lord Wellington remained exposed, untouched! This is really wonderful.
To-day again there was some fighting, but only on our left, a sort of trial of the French strength. We lost, I hear, however, several men, particularly of the 9th. On the whole, with wounded and sick, we shall be much reduced by this week’s work, and I still think can scarcely advance safely any further, unless you send men here instead of to Holland, or unless we can get a good corps of Spaniards to join us under officers who will keep them in order. O’Donnell, the Condé D’Obisbal, is come up again, and will do, for he will hang his men until he gets order and obedience. Lord Wellington has also got his full powers renewed by the Spaniards, and may now perhaps try them once more, if tempted to advance after what has happened.
Sunday, 12th December, 3 o’clock.—Every one has gone out again, but nothing expected to be done to-day. The French attacked us after sunset last night in force, in hopes, probably, of catching us napping again, and getting more baggage, but it did not succeed. The Germans are kept here to-day. My first letter, up to the 11th, I have sealed and sent, and keep this open in case of more news, for which I must hunt, and then come in and finish this, and after dinner divide my prize maps of this canton, and of the whole seat of the northern war—French maps of this year; great prizes. For the present, adieu.
Five o’clock.—More fighting again to-day. The French columns appeared, and we threw some shells amongst them. This brought on a quarrel, and we skirmished sharply for a long time; the Guards were principally concerned; the Adjutant killed, Lieutenant-colonel, and a Captain. I hear of no advantage gained on either side—mere fighting. Our entrenching tools are sent for, so I suppose we are going to make ourselves snug to remain quiet.
Six o’clock.—No more news, and no more fighting, but I have just heard that Lieutenant-colonel D—— W—— is shot in the head, and some say killed; some contradict it altogether. I had told Miss W that he was well, in a letter just gone to the post. The Paymaster-general and several amateurs got suddenly into fire without intending it the other day. It is better now to stay at home, for one fight is much like any other, and I have now seen some of the best which are likely to happen.