* * * * *
On the 4th April a fleet of transports, having on board six regiments under the orders of General Hill, entered the Tagus, which force was landed on the 5th, and incorporated with the army of Portugal, and on the 6th the regiments of which it was composed marched by different routes to join the respective brigades to which Sir J. Craddock’s arrangements attached them.
The arrival of this force, and still more the rumoured appointment of Sir A. Wellesley to the command in Portugal, turned the train of my ideas; and soon after there followed the general cry of “Forward,” and an intimation to us that we had better mount ourselves as fast as possible.
Whether this bold determination were caused by the Austrian War (which was no longer uncertain), and extended to the liberation of Spain, or whether it were supposed that Soult had put himself into acul-de-sac, and the campaign had no further object than to destroy him, I couldnot judge, because I was ignorant of the amount of the French force actually in Spain, and also ignorant of the nature and extent of the Spanish forces, with which in that country we must of necessity co-operate.
It was, however, pretty certain that knocks were toward, and so it behoved to provide myself with a thick doublet.
The rest of my residence in Lisbon, but a few days, was fully taken up in buying horses and in making travelling arrangements. I was so lucky as to get a wee mulette worth her weight in gold, and I called her Sukey.
When the French entered Oporto by storm, the most important capture they made was two British officers of engineers, Captain Goldfinch and Lieutenant Thompson (a boy). Now Captain Goldfinch left at Lisbon in charge of Captain Packman a fine red-brown stallion, a horse fiery in his gait, gentle in his curvets, soft in his manage, swift in his courses, and no mauler of leather. Thirty pounds was the price that had been paid for him, at which sum he was offered to me, upon condition that in case of the owner’s return it should be at his option to reclaim him. I snatched at this offer, for the horse if sold outright would have fetched half as much more. So far, so well, my charger and my baggager were excellent. I now only wanted a second charger, and the deviland Burgos advised me to buy an English mare that was worn to the bones, but might be got into condition and be worth double what was asked.
This was downright gambling, and I lost, as will appear in the sequel.
In the arrangements made by the chief engineer, Burgos and myself were attached to the right column, consisting of a brigade of Guards under General Harry Campbell, and a brigade of Infantry under General A. Campbell, who in the absence of General Sherbrooke commanded the column.
Now General Sherbrooke and General H. Campbell were Nottinghamshire friends, and therefore the Guards were likely to be forward; this, added to the society of Burgos as a campaigning chum, was the very arrangement for which I was disposed to intrigue. It had, however, taken place in consequence of changes in the distribution of the army, for Burgos had gone to another division under a former plan two days ago, but was now to receive orders to join me as soon as possible. Captain Notpat received sudden orders to go to Abrantes in pursuance of an application from the Marshal Beresford. Captain Packman was to move with the Chief, as well as my friend Mortimer, which, with a few others, formed the partydu géniemoving with headquarters.
Now my servant’s name was Louis, and he wasan Italian. Louis, when I picked him up, looked like a very decayed gentleman, his clothes having the cut gentle, but the thread bare, the assortment incongruous, and the articles ill-adapted to his shape. His Hessian boots came above his knees, and were partly obscured by the eaves of his nankeen pantaloons, that had been washed so often as would perhaps have made a Blackamoor white. The warp and the woof of a blue spotted waistcoat were disunited in the pockets and buttons, and his coat was made for a much larger man. His hat was broken in that part of the brim which meets the hand in salutations. His hair was sandy, lanky, long, and dishevelled. On a dirty shirt was displayed a large brooch, thegage d’amourof some sentimental lass, for he had that sleek, effeminate, sodden, yet bearded visage often thought handsome in pictures by means of regular features, and known to be taking in reality among some of the opposite sex. He was about thirty, had a sepulchral voice, and seemed to have destroyed his constitution; yet was he a wit and an accomplished beau in his own circle, and very probably styled “the charming Louis.”
He got me my milk and eggs of a morning very carefully, but I saw that he was no Bernardo. When I consulted Louis on the line of march, he informed me with much respect that he was unable to walk from infirmity, and seeing meembarrassed about my mare’s sore back, he was so active and obliging as to seek out one who was willing to make a swap with me.
The beast offered in exchange was so rippish that I rejected him, and endeavoured to patch the matter by hiring a beast for Louis the next day, which was to be his care, and so all things were arranged for my departure.
I had taken leave of the Austrian Chevalier, and performed all due and accustomed rights, nor had I any regret at the thoughts of quitting this celebrated city. I write letters home.
Lisbon,Sunday, April 9.My dearest Mamsey—We have a report here that Sir Arthur Wellesley is at hand. I have no expectation of any actual service against the French, for their force in this part of the world is so superior to ours (and will, I am convinced, continue so) that I have no doubt of our quitting the country as soon as they turn their attention to us.But if unexpectedly they should, mistaking our force, or too confident, advance towards us with an equal front, we shall drub them well.When I come to you again, which I guess will be before winter, I shall stay a long, long time. I have been obliged to lay out an immense sum on horses, which are immoderately dear.I have managed so, however, as that I shall not lose much, in case of being obliged to leave them behind. Ask Louisa if she would like the prettiest little mulette that ever was?You must not expect long letters, for I am very busy. And when one’s mind is called aside by fifty things at once, one cannot write a gossipy letter.I have sent B. twenty pages about Spain, and he will send it to you, if you desire. It will complete my journal.I wrote to General Stewart as soon as I got here, and have a very kind communicative letter from him in return. He is at no great distance, and I think we may meet ere long.General Sherbrooke, too, I have seen, who appears remarkably well.I expect to quit Lisbon in a day or two.Give my immense love to dear old Dad, etc., etc.——Yours, my dearest Mamsey,Charles.
Lisbon,Sunday, April 9.
My dearest Mamsey—We have a report here that Sir Arthur Wellesley is at hand. I have no expectation of any actual service against the French, for their force in this part of the world is so superior to ours (and will, I am convinced, continue so) that I have no doubt of our quitting the country as soon as they turn their attention to us.
But if unexpectedly they should, mistaking our force, or too confident, advance towards us with an equal front, we shall drub them well.
When I come to you again, which I guess will be before winter, I shall stay a long, long time. I have been obliged to lay out an immense sum on horses, which are immoderately dear.
I have managed so, however, as that I shall not lose much, in case of being obliged to leave them behind. Ask Louisa if she would like the prettiest little mulette that ever was?
You must not expect long letters, for I am very busy. And when one’s mind is called aside by fifty things at once, one cannot write a gossipy letter.
I have sent B. twenty pages about Spain, and he will send it to you, if you desire. It will complete my journal.
I wrote to General Stewart as soon as I got here, and have a very kind communicative letter from him in return. He is at no great distance, and I think we may meet ere long.
General Sherbrooke, too, I have seen, who appears remarkably well.
I expect to quit Lisbon in a day or two.
Give my immense love to dear old Dad, etc., etc.——Yours, my dearest Mamsey,
Charles.
April 16, 1809.—About the middle of the month of April I left the capital of Portugal. I was to bear-lead a party of artificers and some mules laden with intrenching tools, and among otherdésagrémentsMr. Louis came to me already thoroughly exhausted, and could not for love nor money procure a beast.
“Then walk,” said I.
“Pardon me,” said he, “’tis wholly out of my power.”
“Then stay behind,” returned I, chafed at his little control over difficulties.
“’Tis what I shall be reduced to,” answered he, with a fallen air, “if my master cannot mount me.”
“My good fellow,” then said I in another tone, “bring me the villain who offered me that misery in exchange for the mare.”
He immediately went off, and soon returned.
I was busied with other matters. I was predetermined on the exchange, which was instantly concluded, and gave the order for the march.
My charger bounded under me with a most curveted agility, which, added to a very martial neigh, would have made me as proud as Marshal Ney27himself had it not been that the spectacle of my other nag much dashed and diluted the spirit of my exultation. As for Louis he will certainly go to the devil, for there was not somehow room enough on his back whereon to strap my writing-case, for though it was made on purpose for a man’s back, Louis had hung it round his neck, and resembled a Jack that had stolen the locket of a giantess. This embarrassed and bruised his arms, which were both employed to tug at the first bridle he had ever laid hands upon, so that the jade, finding no encouragement to violate her own inclination, would go head foremost into a doorway, the upper part of which she found open, and being buffeted away by the indignant housewife, she would swiftlywheel round, to the infinite terror of Louis, and do the same thing by some other door on the opposite side of the street.
Waiting as I was, to see what sort of a figure my valet cut as he went along, and being confounded at the melancholy state of things—my writing-case banging his breast, and the studied awkwardness which he added to the villainy of the beast—I felt there was but one way to save myself from committing some egregious extravagance. So after assailing him with a deal of bad language and worse Italian, I galloped away, and giving a charge respecting the Italian to my good tall sergeant, resolved never to bestow on him another thought, and, very happy to have escaped, I walked my horse along the banks of the Tagus, giving full range to that cheery meditation inspired by youth and fine weather.
April 1809.—None of the roads leading into the town of Lisbon announce one’s approach to a great capital. They are universally paved, the sides of the road overhung with vines and trees, with awkward country houses, and now and then a tasteless palace.
The road from Cintra to Lisbon by Ociras isthe best furnished, and more diversified by the contrivances of wealth than any by which I have approached that metropolis.
By the right bank of the Tagus to Santarem nothing is at all interesting until Sacavem. The banks of the Tagus are very tame here as to scenery, and at Sacavem, or a little above it, fenny islands of considerable breadth divide the river into two main streams, which begin about thirteen leagues from the mouth of the Tagus, and end about seven leagues.
I have never had any opportunity of examining the localities of this part of the river, but its banks are not formidable.
But to return to my ride on the road to Villa Franca, at which place I arrived in the afternoon.
The Juez de Fuéro happened to be reviewing his lands bordering the Tagus, and was up to his ears in vegetation. I sent to him, but in vain. He walked from one field to another very composedly, discussing the produce with some other land-learned man, and as my patience began to exhaust, Colonel Perponcher arrived on a very fine black horse.
The Colonel is a Dutchman who had long served the British, and when I first knew him commanded in the island of Gozo, in which were no other troops than a battalion of Dillon’s, which (when we met at Villa Franca) was still in theMediterranean, whither he intended to proceed to resume the command.
“Well,” said I, “how do you get on, Colonel, with your brigade?”
“Wat brigaade? Wo tol you I av a brigaade?”
“I was told that you were appointed to the command of two battalions of Portuguese.”
“Well, if I was? You call two battalions brigaade? Pretty brigaade! Ha! ha! ha!”
“Why, some of our Brigadiers have no more than two regiments under them. What do you call a brigade?”
“Ah, that is de very thing, by——, with you. A General is nothing, because you av General for all the two regiments. Why, in the Austrian service! Ha! ha! Brigaade! You call that a brigaade?”
It was only now and then that the Colonel committed a little agreeable foreignness in speaking English; and as I knew him to be a gentlemanlike, well-informed man, and believed him to be an officer of great merit, I was not discouraged by his crustiness, the cause of which I determined to find out; and therefore letting the matter drop, I told him that if, as I supposed, he wanted the Juez de Fuéro, he must go to the river for him, as I had endeavoured to fish him out in vain.
“What,” said I, turning to his servant, “why don’t Sr. Juez come? Is he a Frenchman?”
Here Colonel Perponcher interrupted me with some warmth, and advised me to be more prudent. “These sort of things,” said he wisely, “won’t do with them, for —— sake take care; you don’t know what you may do.”
I could no longer forbear laughing at the subtlety of his ill-humour, which vented itself in this manner under the appearance ofsagesse, for he had too much discrimination not to perceive that my question was calculated to spur the judge to show by his alacrity in assisting Englishmen that he was not a Frenchman, the very name of which was plague, pestilence, and famine to a Portuguese. The Colonel, seeing that I really could not help laughing, began to smile himself, and proposed that we should lodge together, to which I readily assented. The Juez, having returned up to the breech in wholesome soil, gave us the billet we desired. On leaving him I observed that my charger was dead lame.
The death of a first cousin would in numerous instances be less distressing than the lameness of one’s best horse at the moment that his services are indispensable. We were conducted to a large house with fine stables, the groom of which knew perfectly well what ailed my horse, recommended fomentation of hot wine mixed with hog’s lard, honey, and cow dung, and assured me it would be of no consequence.
I eagerly believed what he said, because if I had not I should have been unhappy all the evening, and if the fellow lied, to-morrow morning would be time enough to grieve. “Sufficient for the day is the evil thereof.” Our host was a wealthy Portuguese, and had some guests of his own nation already in his house, an elderly man with his son, a youth of sixteen, very tall, good-looking, and intelligent, also, what is extremely rare for a Portuguese, speaking French very well.
The master of the house offered us some biscuit and wine, which we declined. He then asked what we would take. “Some dinner,” we replied. “Aye,” said he, “but that can’t be ready till night. Won’t you take something first—a bit of water melon or some oranges?”
The idea of fooling away a lusty appetite upon marshmallows was equally repugnant to the habits of us both, and so we determined to wait, although I was perfectly up to the management of our host, which was by pulling his own ten o’clock supper a little way back towards nine, and giving our five o’clock dinner a most unfeeling stretch towards the same point to make both ends meet and unite in one meal. As I had been in this predicament some fifty or sixty times before, I summoned my patience and a natural capability I have for fasting, while the Colonel saw it grow dark with a mixture of surprise, hunger, and impatience. Poor Louis,who really believed that it was impossible for him to walk six tedious leagues, or twenty-four miles, arrived completely done, for he had not only surpassed his imagined powers, but had been obliged to bear his part in dragging and heaving that wretched animal that was to have carried him. I found I had been taken in, and determined to make the best of it, and with actual labour the beast was pushed into the stable, where it fell to at the manger with a beastly voracity.
One cause I found of Colonel Perponcher’s chagrin was the absence of snuff, and this I was fortunately able to supply, having a large box of Prince’s Mixture in my pocket.
We sat together some time talking of the Mediterranean, and of his brother, whom I had met at Gothenburg, and at last he discovered the main cause of his vexation and return to Lisbon nearly as follows:—“You must understand that in volunteering my services with the Portuguese army, and in determining to meet the very numerous and noisome vexations to which the situation exposed me (implicating my character with the conduct of raw recruits of strange nations and striving to reclaim and organise a mutinous rabble), it is natural to suppose that however well I might wish the righteous cause in which we are assisting these swarths, yet that I should look also for some personal advantage asthe attendant of success.” And it was, I suppose, “just this personal advantage” which now seemed more than ever doubtful as time went on.
May 14, 1809.—I heard this morning that Sir Arthur Wellesley has had an action with the enemy.
I was differently and very disagreeably employed, as I went up to Lamego with a British brigade, which was to countenance Beresford and his myrmidons. The enemy came before Lamego, intending, I suppose, to sack and destroy, but finding troops there, they retired. The country is exceedingly strong, and I hoped they would not defend it. It was not my wish to see the Portuguese in action. Let who will take the credit of serving with them, I will not. Accordingly I was very glad to find that the enemy had no intention to dispute the country, either having heard that Soult had been beat, or intending to reinforce him.
Having passed the Douro without halting at Lamego, we stopped at Peizo, and marched the next morning to Amarante.
When about two leagues from our destination it began to rain heavily as if to prepare us for the gloomy, wretched scene that awaited us.
We were thoroughly wet through (I having no baggage) when the beauteous Amarante burst upon our view, the fine-looking houses promising a comfortable rest. What was our aggravateddisgust at finding that everything was sacked, burnt, and murdered, not a single house but was completely reduced to its shell wall. Here the venerable master of a mansion lay stretched on his back amid the black ruins of his peaceful habitation, and a ghastly wound disfigured his neck.... It was a horrid spectacle!! But I will not go on with the picture, it exceeds description, and swells one’s hatred to these ruthless and wanton destroyers.
This place, garrisoned by Portuguese troops under Sylvesan, resisted for two days the French under Loison, (the plague of Portugal), and so this inhuman monster thus revenged himself.
Abrantes,June 18, 1809.My Louisa—I heard that there had been blows, and wrote to tell you I was out of harm’s way.Nothing can be finer than the passage of the Douro, which in his despatches Sir A. Wellesley makes too little of; in short, it is plain he cannot write, for he did the same at Vimiera. However, he is dashing and able, and if a fair game lies before him, he will not, I hope, be able to cover the fame of his victories by clumsy relations....Captain Goldfinch of the Engineers, with a fine little Scotch boy (a lieutenant), fell with Oporto into the hands of the French, and made their escape in the late bustle. The respect (they say) which all French who were at Corunna bear to the memory of Moore, and to the English in general, is quite gratifying.They recite a dispute between a French officer andseveral others, the former maintaining that the English were victorious, the others, not.Our advocate read General Hope’s letter,28asking at every sentence, “N’est-il pas vrai? N’est-il pas bien dit?” etc., etc., and when he came to the simile of General Wolfe’s death he made a very elegant admiration of it.I was attached to the brigade of General Tilson, who is my friend, and it was with the Portuguese army. We went to Chaves, and penetrated into Galicia. I took the place of an officer who fell ill, otherwise I belong to the brigade of Guards under Harry Campbell, whom I like greatly.In addition to my mortification at being out of the way, the first notification I had of General Paget’s arrival was accompanied by the news of his having lost a limb, my sorrow for which wholly defeated any attempt to rejoice at our successes. People who did not know him talked a vast deal about the manner in which he bore his sufferings. I say nothing of it, because I know him to be perfect, and know upon what he leans.... It is a comfort to learn that the loss is not likely to affect his constitution, as he is said to recover wonderfully fast.Devil a bit of nobleness have I about me, my dear Lou. I cannot bear this infernal war, that has killed Moore and maimed Paget, disputing about a country that—— But I won’t talk politics. If Austria, though beaten and overrun, can entertain Buonaparte for a season, perhaps Wellesley may do something for the Spaniards.The French fight us very ill, whether from a want of hatred or courage. If what had happened to Soult had happened to an English general, he would have been disgraced for ever, for he was shamefully surprised.But England, although she has every right to expect worse generals than France, is much more rigid with them in articles of skill and judgment; for if she can by any means attribute a disaster to the error of a general, she is not only savage but sanguinary. And this makes very good generals and very brave men so vastly afraid of responsibility, that when they assume command they appear cowardly and indecisive....Don’t let there be a shade of melancholy in your letters; it disquiets me vastly. Why should you be melancholy? God is very good to us, and we must not pine if we are not always all together as if in heaven. Therefore write very comically about friends and home....Eternal blessings crown my darling Lou, and guardian angels hover over her.Charles.
Abrantes,June 18, 1809.
My Louisa—I heard that there had been blows, and wrote to tell you I was out of harm’s way.
Nothing can be finer than the passage of the Douro, which in his despatches Sir A. Wellesley makes too little of; in short, it is plain he cannot write, for he did the same at Vimiera. However, he is dashing and able, and if a fair game lies before him, he will not, I hope, be able to cover the fame of his victories by clumsy relations....
Captain Goldfinch of the Engineers, with a fine little Scotch boy (a lieutenant), fell with Oporto into the hands of the French, and made their escape in the late bustle. The respect (they say) which all French who were at Corunna bear to the memory of Moore, and to the English in general, is quite gratifying.
They recite a dispute between a French officer andseveral others, the former maintaining that the English were victorious, the others, not.
Our advocate read General Hope’s letter,28asking at every sentence, “N’est-il pas vrai? N’est-il pas bien dit?” etc., etc., and when he came to the simile of General Wolfe’s death he made a very elegant admiration of it.
I was attached to the brigade of General Tilson, who is my friend, and it was with the Portuguese army. We went to Chaves, and penetrated into Galicia. I took the place of an officer who fell ill, otherwise I belong to the brigade of Guards under Harry Campbell, whom I like greatly.
In addition to my mortification at being out of the way, the first notification I had of General Paget’s arrival was accompanied by the news of his having lost a limb, my sorrow for which wholly defeated any attempt to rejoice at our successes. People who did not know him talked a vast deal about the manner in which he bore his sufferings. I say nothing of it, because I know him to be perfect, and know upon what he leans.... It is a comfort to learn that the loss is not likely to affect his constitution, as he is said to recover wonderfully fast.
Devil a bit of nobleness have I about me, my dear Lou. I cannot bear this infernal war, that has killed Moore and maimed Paget, disputing about a country that—— But I won’t talk politics. If Austria, though beaten and overrun, can entertain Buonaparte for a season, perhaps Wellesley may do something for the Spaniards.
The French fight us very ill, whether from a want of hatred or courage. If what had happened to Soult had happened to an English general, he would have been disgraced for ever, for he was shamefully surprised.
But England, although she has every right to expect worse generals than France, is much more rigid with them in articles of skill and judgment; for if she can by any means attribute a disaster to the error of a general, she is not only savage but sanguinary. And this makes very good generals and very brave men so vastly afraid of responsibility, that when they assume command they appear cowardly and indecisive....
Don’t let there be a shade of melancholy in your letters; it disquiets me vastly. Why should you be melancholy? God is very good to us, and we must not pine if we are not always all together as if in heaven. Therefore write very comically about friends and home....
Eternal blessings crown my darling Lou, and guardian angels hover over her.
Charles.
* * * * *
Coria,July 8, 1809.It is quite a relief, dearest Lou, to be transferred from the filthy styes of the Portuguese to the clean houses of the Spaniards. And as I am shaking off the dust contracted in Portugal, so I am scraping my tongue of those odious inarticulate sounds which compose their language, and gargling vinegar that my throat may be capable of touching with the true Castilian burr the energetic language of Spain.Alas! I have lost one of my first comforts, a new blue, patent, silver-mounted, morocco writing-case; all my letter-paper, pens, ink, letters, secrets, verses, etc., etc.; also dear Lady N——’s series of useless boxes—all lost by the rascal Pedro, Bernardo’s opposite in everything. The devil take it, though I have lost it a week ago, I cannot recover my temper.Hitherto I pass my time very pleasantly. I have got a fine young engineer to take care of, whom I row, all the time that he does not sleep, about his vanity; not but that I acknowledge myself to be as vain as he, but that I defy him to have found it out, unless I had told him of it. He is coming into very fine order.Poor Harry Campbell has been some time unwell, but I hope he is now throwing it off.General Sherbrooke, to whose division I belong, makes it very pleasant to me. I dine with him mostly, and like him vastly. I think of him very highly as a general. He thinks of Sir John Moore just as I do.To-morrow we go to Plaçentia, which is much larger than this very pretty town.Here there is an old castle and walls inhabited by cranes, which interest me very much, perching on the house-tops and church steeples, and cowering over the town.That fellow there, I at first thought was standing upon the stalk of a weather-cock, but I found by a spy-glass that they were his own long legs, with his great feet happy upon the stone ball.The air seems fresher here than in Portugal. Sweet F. E. wrote me such a dear note in Mamsey’s letter. I wonder how she could contrive to make it so pleasant and yet so proper. For me, I could do no such thing. Were I to write to her warm, kind, affectionate words, my heart would dictate fluently enough, but I am sure they would not pass the school of decorum.The mistress would say, “You must scratch out there ‘dearest F.’ Lop away this ‘love’ and that ‘love’”; and so word by word I should see my poor letter robbed of all its graces, looking like a tobacconist’s with “Humble servant to command” at the bottom.What if I should not fill this sheet! It is very big, and I have to give my letter to General Sherbrooke in a quarter of an hour, and you see I write very close.My poor chum has just lost a horse, which, though I put on outward signs of condolence, I am not sorry for. As to being bridled, he never could think of such a thing. He would always go when he liked it, and where also. He would look very stupid, to entice the unwary behind him; and then, with both feet and all his might, lunge out, as much as to say, “D—— thee, I have thee now.” In the same manner he would most innocently pretend to come and rub his head upon you in a dawdling, sleepy sort of way, and then get your leg or arm in his jaws and try as hard as he could to crack it. For these and many other pretty accomplishmentsHis master loved him dearly,And mourns him now sincerely,While I say, “Poor thing” merely,But feel at heart quite cheerly.We’ll go as fast, or nearly,Without, as with him, clearly.Now to take my leave, and remain, as ever, yourCharles.
Coria,July 8, 1809.
It is quite a relief, dearest Lou, to be transferred from the filthy styes of the Portuguese to the clean houses of the Spaniards. And as I am shaking off the dust contracted in Portugal, so I am scraping my tongue of those odious inarticulate sounds which compose their language, and gargling vinegar that my throat may be capable of touching with the true Castilian burr the energetic language of Spain.
Alas! I have lost one of my first comforts, a new blue, patent, silver-mounted, morocco writing-case; all my letter-paper, pens, ink, letters, secrets, verses, etc., etc.; also dear Lady N——’s series of useless boxes—all lost by the rascal Pedro, Bernardo’s opposite in everything. The devil take it, though I have lost it a week ago, I cannot recover my temper.
Hitherto I pass my time very pleasantly. I have got a fine young engineer to take care of, whom I row, all the time that he does not sleep, about his vanity; not but that I acknowledge myself to be as vain as he, but that I defy him to have found it out, unless I had told him of it. He is coming into very fine order.
Poor Harry Campbell has been some time unwell, but I hope he is now throwing it off.
General Sherbrooke, to whose division I belong, makes it very pleasant to me. I dine with him mostly, and like him vastly. I think of him very highly as a general. He thinks of Sir John Moore just as I do.
To-morrow we go to Plaçentia, which is much larger than this very pretty town.
Here there is an old castle and walls inhabited by cranes, which interest me very much, perching on the house-tops and church steeples, and cowering over the town.
That fellow there, I at first thought was standing upon the stalk of a weather-cock, but I found by a spy-glass that they were his own long legs, with his great feet happy upon the stone ball.
The air seems fresher here than in Portugal. Sweet F. E. wrote me such a dear note in Mamsey’s letter. I wonder how she could contrive to make it so pleasant and yet so proper. For me, I could do no such thing. Were I to write to her warm, kind, affectionate words, my heart would dictate fluently enough, but I am sure they would not pass the school of decorum.
The mistress would say, “You must scratch out there ‘dearest F.’ Lop away this ‘love’ and that ‘love’”; and so word by word I should see my poor letter robbed of all its graces, looking like a tobacconist’s with “Humble servant to command” at the bottom.
What if I should not fill this sheet! It is very big, and I have to give my letter to General Sherbrooke in a quarter of an hour, and you see I write very close.
My poor chum has just lost a horse, which, though I put on outward signs of condolence, I am not sorry for. As to being bridled, he never could think of such a thing. He would always go when he liked it, and where also. He would look very stupid, to entice the unwary behind him; and then, with both feet and all his might, lunge out, as much as to say, “D—— thee, I have thee now.” In the same manner he would most innocently pretend to come and rub his head upon you in a dawdling, sleepy sort of way, and then get your leg or arm in his jaws and try as hard as he could to crack it. For these and many other pretty accomplishments
His master loved him dearly,And mourns him now sincerely,While I say, “Poor thing” merely,But feel at heart quite cheerly.We’ll go as fast, or nearly,Without, as with him, clearly.
His master loved him dearly,And mourns him now sincerely,While I say, “Poor thing” merely,But feel at heart quite cheerly.We’ll go as fast, or nearly,Without, as with him, clearly.
His master loved him dearly,And mourns him now sincerely,While I say, “Poor thing” merely,But feel at heart quite cheerly.We’ll go as fast, or nearly,Without, as with him, clearly.
His master loved him dearly,
And mourns him now sincerely,
While I say, “Poor thing” merely,
But feel at heart quite cheerly.
We’ll go as fast, or nearly,
Without, as with him, clearly.
Now to take my leave, and remain, as ever, your
Charles.
* * * * *
Castel Branco,July 1809.I received dear Mamsey’s letter, by which my mind was relieved respecting her anxiety.The moment I heard there was fighting I wrote, but feared you would not get my letter in time enough to be spared that cruel suspense.It will at least be some time before you need begin to think of being anxious again.The French, it is understood, are retiring very fast, and will probably not dispute anything south of the Ebro. A long march is before us ... we only know as far as Placentia. I miss my poor Bernardo very much, and would give anything to meet with him again, which I think I may do, if we go towards Madrid.This fine battle of the Danube has cheered us again, perhaps ere you receive this you will know how fallaciously; but I will hope that you are in possession of recent victories for which we are yet to Huzza!29
Castel Branco,July 1809.
I received dear Mamsey’s letter, by which my mind was relieved respecting her anxiety.
The moment I heard there was fighting I wrote, but feared you would not get my letter in time enough to be spared that cruel suspense.
It will at least be some time before you need begin to think of being anxious again.
The French, it is understood, are retiring very fast, and will probably not dispute anything south of the Ebro. A long march is before us ... we only know as far as Placentia. I miss my poor Bernardo very much, and would give anything to meet with him again, which I think I may do, if we go towards Madrid.
This fine battle of the Danube has cheered us again, perhaps ere you receive this you will know how fallaciously; but I will hope that you are in possession of recent victories for which we are yet to Huzza!29