There never was such folly as sending an army into Spain again. The character of the Spaniards is so selfish, jealous, and proud, with all the surliness of Englishmen, and not a spark of their good qualities, that a foreign army in their country must always risk being abandoned. They, besides, will not fight for themselves, and it is impossible England alone can defend them. This picture is perhaps strong, and I really feel much irritated against them, but I am sure it is the opinion of almost every individual. The inhabitants fly in all directions at the approach of the enemy, and whenever your army comes, they fancy the enemy are coming also. You are therefore unable to procure subsistence, and of course equally so to defend them. The magistrates fly, to avoid the trouble of providing you, as everything is concealed. All the towns we have been in are nearly abandoned, and we have been forced to break into empty houses for a lodging. In short, war in any shape is a horrid scourge to the inhabitants.
We are in very low spirits at the bad accounts from Austria. A peace in that country will decide the fate of these most undoubtedly. We may prolong the war and sacrifice many lives, but I am convinced that it will be to no purpose, and even should Sir A.W., who, it is reported, is to be made Commander in Chief in Spain, and a most clever fine fellow as ever existed, be able to avert their ultimate destruction, another brilliant victory, or even more, if the Tyrant overruns Germany, and Austria falls, cannot alter my opinion, and I shall doubly regret every British life that is lost after that country makes peace.
Poor Whittingham, who is a Brigadier in the Spanish Service, was shot through the cheek and hurt severely, while endeavouring most gallantly to rally a Spanish regiment of cavalry. He is however doing well. I am much annoyed at not being able to get any account of Harvey. Milman is badly wounded. These are the only officers I have heard of that you know. Fremantle is well.
Castello Branco, August 20th.
We arrived here yesterday, and will, I hope, remain some days to refresh our poor patient half-starved soldiers, and observe the enemy’s motions. A strong corps of theirs forced the Pass of Baños defended by Sir R. Wilson and about 3000 men, Portuguese and Spaniards. They resisted the whole day, but had no guns, and were forced to retreat to avoid being surrounded.
It is impossible to judge yet of what the plans of the French can be, particularly this Corps, which has re-entered Castile and marched towards Salamanca, leaving 10 or 12,000 men at Placencia; nor have I the least idea of what Sir A. Wellesley’s intentions are. I over and over again wish I was with his brave army. It is wretched unsatisfactory work being with this; nothing but constant vexation and disgust, particularly of their Officers. The men, poor devils, are patient and obedient, voilà tout, I think, yet the British Officers with the regiments think they would fight. I am convinced this would depend entirely on circumstances, and if they do unfortunately get beaten, I fear they will at any rate not hazard it again. What a different army I was with a year ago! How gloriously employed where with such soldiers! If Austria makes peace, I shall soon have the happiness again of embracing my beloved family, for the game will be soon settled in these countries.
I think the French will move towards Zamora, and threaten Portugal immediately, to draw away our army from this quarter, and Sir A. W., if possible, out of Spain, to protect it.
Adieu, my dearest Mother, kindest love to my Father, etc., etc., etc., from Your Ever Affectionate Son,
Wm. Warre.
You sent me out last year, which I never got, a new Aide-de-Camp’s coat. If it is in existence and not lost, pray send it to Lisbon to me, as I sometimes wear it, and do not wish to make another Portuguese, which is very expensive.