Every day convinces me more strongly that the fate of these countries depends entirely upon Austria, of which, you may well imagine, we are most anxious for positive accounts. We have had a French bulletin with accounts of an armistice, and other rumours of a peace. But as they have all come from the French, I trust unfounded. I hope you will let all your arrangements, with regard to Portugal, depend upon the successes in Germany.
Yrs. most affectionately,
Wm. Warre.
Salvaterra, August 18, 1809.
My Dearest Mother,
I take the opportunity of being able to write to give you some account of myself and our proceedings. My hand, as you will see by my being able to write, is nearly well, though still weak. I suffered a good deal from it, from not applying the proper remedies, and supposing I had merely dislocated two of my knuckles, for my hand and arm had swelled so much, from travelling day after day in the excessive heat, that it was not till I arrived at the English Head Quarters express a month after, and consulted an English surgeon, that I discovered that one of the small bones in the back of the hand was broken. Nature, however, has joined it, and I trust in a few weeks I shall be entirely as strong as ever. It has been a serious inconvenience, particularly when near the enemy, and expecting to be engaged. Except in writing, however, it never has prevented my duty, though I confess sometimes, after a sleepless night, I could almost have cried from pain and vexation.
I dictated a letter to my father from Acebo and Los Hoyos, fearing you would be very anxious at not hearing from me, which I hope has been received. We have now made a forward movement to Moralega in order to straiten the enemy in his foraging. They constantly dislodged a post we had at Coria, where they came for provisions, nor was it in our power to prevent them, and the inhabitants, who had not fled, either from fear or treason, seemed more ready to supply them than us, so much so in every direction, added to the ignorance and want of arrangement in our Commissaries, that our troops have suffered greatly from want of provisions, particularly bread. The selfish unfriendly conduct of the Spaniards high and low, not giving us any hopes of a supply, Marshal Beresford has been forced to retreat towards this place, on his way to Castello Branco, in order to feed his troops, who are in great distress, without even seeing the enemy, or his making the least forward movement towards us, except in small foraging parties, to Coria, near where they have caught a valuable convoy of English hospital stores, I cannot help thinking, in a great measure from the excessive ignorance and want of energy in the Purveyor, who was seven days considering whether the French would come there or not.
As to the conduct of the Spaniards, both to the English and this army, it has been most shameful. I shall not enlarge on this disagreeable subject. It is enough to say both armies are very much irritated. They have every wish that we should fight for them, but do not deign to treat us with common civility, or our men, when sick or wounded, with common humanity. They conceal their provisions, drive away their cattle, and when possible escape themselves, leaving either friends or foes to subsist as well as they can, complaining however most loudly and bitterly if a single cabbage is taken without leave. When our men have been starving they have refused to sell even a loaf, and if they did, at a most exorbitant price. They will rob your very stores almost in your sight, and, though every town and village expects you are to stay for its defence, they will not, except forced, contribute in any way to assist. This is the complaint, and universal in both English and Portuguese armies, and as for their soldiers fighting, I never thought they would. They never have. The French treat them with the utmost contempt. 5300 and odd brave soldiers of the British were killed or wounded at Talavera without 45,000 Spaniards, who were present, moving in any way to their support; and since, 3000 wounded of these were abandoned by that old brute Cuesta in Talavera, contrary to Sir A. Wellesley’s orders or intention, and without any attack on the part of the enemy.
This obstinate surly old ignorant fellow is, thank God, removed. He was, to say the best of him, quite superannuated, and so violent and obstinate that everybody feared him but his enemies.