We have Spaniards on our right, and in the valley of Bastan, who perhaps may now come in again for a little fighting; and it is to be hoped they may, for if the French work constantly on the British and Portuguese, and you continue to send men to Holland, we shall by degrees get too weak for our situation.
Lord Wellington at dinner on Sunday directed some jokes at Major D——, who makes out the returns, because he wanted to make a grand total of wounded, &c., after the late five days’ fighting. He laughed, and said that all might go wrong from this innovation, but he was determined he would have no more grand totals until he got another Vittoria without more loss; that the loss was always great enough in all conscience, without displaying it in this ostentatious manner, and that he would not have every drummer and every officer, &c., killed or wounded in the five days, all added up in one grand total, but that at least the croakers should have the trouble themselves of adding up all the different losses, and making it out for themselves.
The weather is just now delightful, and we have had as yet nothing which can properly be called winter. During the last ten days the sea has been quite smooth, and we have not even had a white frost. The people say they think that the first bad season is over now, and we shall not have much more bad weather until near March: I only hope this will prove correct.
A French carriage and a car were waiting at the French outposts to receive my ladies, and they all got in safe. This was managed by sending in a message the day before. A certain communication with Bayonne is also now open; for yesterday we had an arrival of French watches, rings, trinkets, and silk dresses. We carry on war in a very civilized manner, especially if a little anecdote related to me yesterday be correct. One of our officers, it seems, I believe Major Q——, was riding a troublesome horse close to the French pickets, and partly from the violence of his horse, and partly from his own inadvertence, he got close to a French sentinel. The latter called out several times that he was French, and ordered him off, and at last presented his bayonet. The horse still plunging on, and the officer apparently not understanding the man, the French sentry turned the horse the other way by the bridle, and sent him back without offering any harm to either beast or rider, though he might have killed or taken both.
This morning we had another instance on our side. A French officer’s wife came in from Bayonne to follow her husband, a prisoner in England. We had a boat in from Sacoa to take her upon the beach, to carry her round by sea to Passages, and an order from Lord Wellington waiting for her there, for a passage to England as expeditiously as circumstances would permit.
Wednesday, 5th January.—No one came back last night, and St. Jean de Luz is almost deserted; scarcely a red coat to be seen. The ladies are in some alarm, and only some inquiring doctors and commissaries are to be seen about the streets. I have in the mean time such an accumulation of business for Lord Wellington that I shall be almost fearful of seeing him—five Courts-martial, one of about ninety pages, another eighty. He always complains, and yet I think he likes to read these cases, and know himself exactly all that is going on. I have just been out to pick up news, but in vain, and have been driven back by a slight shower. Money has been so short here that I could only tempt them to give me some doubloons immediately by accepting a part of my pay on England in another Treasury Bill.
Friday, January 7th.—Lord Wellington is not yet returned here, and we are, therefore, still deserted; but nothing has been done. The French have been manœuvring for these three days on our right flank, but in vain, as our General was ready for them. Yesterday, however, he was nearly bringing them to blows. A part of their force remained on our side of the Adour, between the Nive and the Bidocque. This was too near our position, and they were to have been driven across, but prudently went away in good time of their own accord, consequently nothing was done, and I think nothing will be done just now.
The French head-quarters here are at (I believe) Peyrehorade, a town on the Gave, of some little river commerce. In our present suspense we were at last amused yesterday by the arrival of two mails, and I have got letters, papers, &c.
You kill men for me faster than I do in reality, and that is enough. I am only aware of forty-one having been shot or hung since my arrival in the country; and that is quite enough too, you will say, almost as many as you hang in all England in a year. You were quite right about the lost letter from me; it contained a full description of St. Jean de Luz, and of my horrible muddy journey from St. Fé to this civilized place, with a sketch of my house and its vicinity, &c., a ground plot of my quarter, which, if time and room permit, I will repeat. And as you do not congratulate me on my escape from being shot, I suppose that story was there also.
Later.—As Lord Wellington is still away, I continue to scribble to you. This place has been a very flourishing town, and of considerable trade, but is much in decay; this partly before the late wars, from the bar having increased, so that only small vessels can get in now, and the evil still increases. At low water the river only ripples over the bar of sand, scarcely a foot deep, and at times the river is choked up by the sand, so that it cannot make its way out, and floods the town. This happened twice last year, but has not recurred this year, though at times the bed of the river has been quite changed, and the water nearly stopped.