I gave him a good breakfast this morning before he set out for Passages, got him a letter to the principal Commissary at Passages, and handed him my father’s direction at Somerset House; desiring him to let him know where he is ultimately quartered in England, and whether my father could serve him in any way in London. So be prepared for a letter some time hence from my French acquaintance. He is a staunch Frenchman in everything, but I do not like him the worse for that, or for avowing it openly.
He told me that we were not quite so secure in Holland, and that we were not near a peace, but had much yet to do to obtain such a one as we required, for Bonaparte was ambitious and unreasonable, and we were unreasonable also. In some respects I agree, and only hope the Allies will continue moderate. I offered him money, but he said he had lost nothing, and did not require it, and declined any assistance. He said, at the moment he was vexed that our men did not plunder him, as he knew his own people would have done so by us. He seems a shrewd fellow, and was therefore ordered off directly from hence.[7]
Lord Wellington looks thin, but was in high spirits yesterday. We have more artillery and ammunition passing up to-day to the front, and, I hear, they are making works to strengthen our position, and to be prepared against any other desperate attack. This may be only Lord Wellington’s usual prudence, as it does not look like a move further in advance. Other circumstances, however, do rather look like a movement forwards, and the strengthening this position may be either for the present security, or for a position to retire to in case of accidents, as we have now two rivers in our rear; or, which may be most likely, for both. The fact is, we have above twelve hundred men digging away, and artillery is going up.
My French witness here tells me a friend has just arrived from Bayonne, who informs him, that whilst the movements were going on some days since, Marshal Soult told the leading people of Bayonne, that all who intended to move their valuables to the rear should do so by water immediately, if at all, as circumstances might soon make it impossible for them to do so by water, and the road would be entirely required by the military in certain events. This does not look like much confidence.
Friday, December 17th, three o’clock, and Sunday, December 19th, Post-day.—A report of more work on the right, and we fancy we have heard much firing. Lord Wellington is gone off. If matters have not gone on well, or the horses get tired, we shall have a move yet, I fear very soon; but hope otherwise most sincerely, that is, if it be a move of head-quarters only. A forward movement of the army will be another matter, as it will prove to me Lord Wellington thinks something is to be done by it. Our cavalry is moving up fast. This looks like a movement. It spreads out by Cambo on our right. I am also assured by a French officer here in our service in the Quarter-Master-general’s department, that the French cavalry are fast filing to the rear, and have already passed Mont de Marsan, my former abode; and that many of the old soldiers are from necessity sent back to Bordeaux to compel some refractory conscripts there to move, for they are a little wilful. He also told me that the loss of the French (desertion included) in the late affairs last week, was, in the whole, about thirteen thousand men. He is, however, a sanguine man; remember that. We are also said to have taken two or three boats on the Adour, above Bordeaux.
Head-Quarters, St. Jean de Luz, five o’clock, Sunday, December 19th, 1813.—I have just come from the sea-side, where we can now scarcely stand for the wind, and are, on the high walk, quite wet with the spray. A violent gale of some hours has caused this, and I have been watching a vessel off here for a long time which has been in considerable danger, but is at last safe in Sacoa harbour. She was most uneasy at sea, made signals of distress, and the pilot-boats ventured out, and by their help and working hard with the capstan on an anchor carried out, she has at last worked her way in.
I met yesterday at dinner Colonel Barnard, who was lately shot through the body. Colonel Rooke is dead. I feared it must be so, from what was told me yesterday. He could not eat anything, grew rapidly weaker, and the suppuration formed a mass clear through his body from one orifice of the wound to the other, and not properly round the ball so as to facilitate the extraction of it. Lieutenant-colonel West is well. I saw him to-day: he was not touched. The report of his being killed arose from his having sent a horse to the rear—I believe to walk. At the sale of the late Captain Watson’s effects, I bought a very tolerable saddle, with holsters, about half worn, for eighteen dollars, which is here considered cheap. I bid 15s. for a curry-comb and brush, bad, but of English make, and in England worth about 3s. or 4s.—it went for a guinea! I also bid for a Suffolk punch horse as high as two hundred dollars, but Major Daring outbid me, though it was certainly very dear. Captain Watson was of the Guards.
A party of Bayonne sailors have just arrived here I am told, who have come over to us. Bayonne envies this place now. If we stay, and have money, things will come in here soon from the French, for the geese they bring in sell for four dollars instead of 4s. before we came, and so with other things; we have also got some good French cattle to eat.
Head-Quarters, St. Jean de Luz, December 21st, 1813.—The furious stormy weather continues, with almost continual rain, attended yesterday by a most violent clap of thunder; such repeated gusts of wind I scarcely ever witnessed. The inhabitants say, that it will last so long as we have the wind from the sea. At the same time it is not at all cold, and I have no fire except when I have been caught in the wet, and am very damp. This happens if you stir for five hundred yards, as the rain comes with a gust in a few seconds. The thermometer in my room, without a fire, has been constantly almost above temperate, and at times above sixty. We are at present all quiet again here, and invitations are flying about for Christmas dinners on Saturday next.
Marshal Soult is angry with the inhabitants for being friends with us. He is now circulating proclamations on our right, exhorting the people to form Guerilla corps and to turn brigands. If we continue to behave well, he will not easily persuade them to do this. The Spaniards who demand rations and contributions against orders, and are not so orderly as they might be (the few that are in France, that is), may perhaps provoke them to arms, but I hope not. We now go about the roads here as safely as in Spain; the only marauders indeed are the followers of our own army and runaway Spaniards and muleteers. Our own army is behaving particularly well, and now give me a little leisure occasionally.