Under England's flag

by Charles Boothby

Letter from Lieut. Charles Boothby to Sir John Moore

Sudbury, March 1808.

Dear Sir—I did myself the honour to wait upon you in London, and trust that you will allow me to say by letter what I would have expressed in conversation.

I experienced with much regret the breaking up of that army in which I felt so fortunately situated and befriended by you. But I do not despair of being again under your command, which is my first wish, and have only to fear the being sent out of the way before anything should occur.

As your kindness on that head, as on all others, left me nothing to desire, I am anxious to state that my wish to belong to an army of which you have the command is entirely independent of any hopes I might suffer to arise in consequence of your late disposition to indulge my wishes and promote my advantage, and that I shall ever esteem myself sufficiently fortunate to meet with active practice in my own particular profession under your auspices in any part of the world. I found my father and family here on a visit to Lord Vernon. I delivered your message, which gave him much pleasure, and he is highly gratified to find himself remembered by your kindness to me.—I have the honour to be, dear sir, with great respect, your very obedient, obliged, and humble servant,

Charles Boothby.

I had not long to wait before this letter was answered by a summons to join the expedition to Sweden, under Sir John Moore, and by the 15th April I was in London preparing for departure.

Blenheim Hotel, Bond Street, London,
April 27, 1808.

Ever dearest Dad—I feel conscious from your letter that you have not much spirits to spare. Whatever hurts you, goes to the quick with me also. But God did not mean us to be perfectly happy here, and I hope that we jog on towards the next place with as comfortable prospects as our neighbours.

If from any want of efficiency on my part, it were your business to prescribe my motions, you would (however disagreeable to your affections) direct me as I am now going. The rage that pervades the youth of blood to go with General Moore exceeds anything I ever heard of, and many suicides are expected in consequence of rejected applications.

I pray God to bless you all, and me, in such a return as lately gladdened my heart.—Your ever most affectionate

Charles.

* * * * *

Blenheim Hotel, Bond Street, London,
April 29, 1808.

Ever dearest Dad—I hope it will not be a great disappointment to you not to find me in London, as I was peremptorily obliged to leave on the 30th.

I would have done anything to save you a disappointment. But for myself, I should have had no pleasure in the meeting unless you were merry, and much pain at parting if you were sad.

Your remittance was very convenient and sufficient, and I am not in want of anything.—Ever dearest Dad, yours,

C.

* * * * *

Sheerness, May 6, 1808.

The ships are under way and bound for Yarmouth. Thence I suppose to Gothenburg. Perhaps I shall see Sir Brooke in my rambles.

* * * * *

Yarmouth, May 9, 1808.

We arrived in the roads this morning, and I have just come on shore for an hour to get a few things that are wanting, as a fine fair breeze is to be taken advantage of immediately, and I hope to see Gothenburg in less than a week. General Moore is on board the Mars, and not an officer is to be seen on shore, as the Fleet is to sail at three o’clock.

* * * * *

Amity Brig, May 10.

Got under way at 4 o’clock P.M. Wind blowing towards evening with rain, and threatened a gale; moderated again, and the moon rose in unclouded majesty.

Fine clear night. List of men-of-war of the convoy. Mars 74, Audacious 74, Tigress 16, —— 16, and Piercer.

* * * * *

Friday 13.—All last night hazy weather, moderate breezes; in the morning thick fog—so thick that not a ship in the Fleet could be discovered except at intervals, although the voices of the people aboard could be distinguished.

The faint form of the ships, at times in the fog, had rather a sublime appearance. The Commodore was on our starboard beam, which we knew by his occasionally firing guns of guidance; the sound was very near, but the flash could not be perceived. About twelve o’clock he made a signal to alter the course, and at two o’clock he made another signal, and we had some anxiety lest a mistake should make us lose the Fleet.

At about three o’clock, however, the fog cleared away, and discovered the Commodore close on our larboard-quarter, steaming the same course with us, some thirty or forty miles from the coast of Jutland.

These Baltic fogs are extremely unpleasant, and lie chiefly on the shoal called Jutland Reef. The vessel was obliged to be constantly beating drums and ringing bells, lest some other ship should come upon her unknowingly, from the perfect obscurity in which we were involved.

Tuesday, May 17.—Wind blowing very fresh and a heavy sea. At a quarter before three had Gothenburg on the lee beam. At half-past three pilot came on board, at four anchored near Elfsborg Castle; experienced much pleasure from the force of contrast—coming at once from very rough sea-weather into harbour, and leaving the waves in the lurch.

Aspect of Gothenburg Harbour very wild and bleak.

Wednesday 18.—May go on shore, but not to sleep. Mr. Hindmarsh takes us in his boat and we land at Tod’s Quay.

After entering the gates of Gothenburg, we went into a shop to inquire for an inn, and found a very pretty boy translating English into Swedish. His book was entitled Village Dialogues. He spoke English very well, and also French and German, and was exceedingly modest and well-behaved. His father stood by, and contemplated the acuteness of his son with delight, pleased to find that he could make Englishmen understand him.

We proceed, meet a gentleman, and ask for an inn where a dinner might be got.

“’Twas a shocking place,” he said, but told us of an hotel. I then asked where I could hear of foreigners who might be in Gothenburg. “Did not know. Who did I want?” “Sir Brooke Boothby.”[15] Had seen him that morning; showed me where he lived—“Not at home.” Go to dine at Eryxon’s and find party of officers. After dinner go again to call on my uncle (Sir Brooke Boothby), whom I had not seen for nine years. We were delighted to see each other; had tea, walked to Tod’s Quay, embarked at nine, and was on board at 11 P.M.

General Stewart is the kindest creature in the world. He went the other day to ask the General (Sir John Moore) to appoint me his aide-de-camp, as the brigadier-generals were to be allowed them; but General Moore’s answer was, that he intended me for himself.

If the General has an opportunity of putting his intentions into execution, I shall have the situation which I wish for more than any other in the Army. But my mind misgives me that we shall come home without achieving or seeing anything.

Sir Joshua Reynolds.

Penelope Boothby.

Born 1785. Died 1791.

Only Child of Sir Brooke Boothby, Bart.

My uncle has introduced me to the best society here. We went to a ball on board the Victory the other day, and the prettiest lady said to me in very pretty broken English, “Wan I dance wid you, sair, I will assure you dat I wish we dance de whole long of de sheep”; and when the two dances were over, she said, “Sair, I tank you; I will assure you it is de plaisantess dance I dance to-day.” Seeing me smile she added, “You not belief it. Ah! it is true!” I went simpering up to another lady and said, “What a very fine day, ma’am, for our party.” She curtseyed, and uttered from her throat with a smile, “Bakkelseg Morgon Vakka Thikka Pukk,” and so I simpering replied as if I understood her, “Yaw, yaw, Pukk,” bowed and went away.

June 14, 1808.—Agree with Wilmot, Sandham, and Foster to go to Trollhättan, and on Friday, 17th, at 5 A.M. start in two gigs with two horses each, arriving at half-past one, after a pleasant journey of fifty-two miles, stopping an hour on the road. The waterfall fell below my expectations, although it be terrible to stand close beside an enormous body of water in motion so rapid; but the view from below is much less grand and astonishing than I can conceive a cataract to be, nor do I think my ideas of the tremendous much invigorated or more defined than they were before, and as a proof that the cataract did not fill or satisfy the mind, I observed, that on beholding it, I ever cast my eyes to the lofty precipice on the right, saying to myself, “Oh, that it came tumbling over that!” The canal was just what I expected, and a most laudable work.

June 19.—Start for Ström at four. This road offers to the eye of the traveller much picturesque beauty. A great part of it lies as if through a beautiful English park, and from the excellence and trimness of the road and culture of the verdure you imagine yourself in some studied approach to a great man’s house, while the beautiful gleams of the romantic Gotha, seen through the trees, make you exclaim, “Happy he whose eye is frequent on such a prospect.” The Gotha is an exquisitely beautiful river: its waves are true silver and azure; its banks are green, enamelled with flowers, embossed with dwellings, and feathered with woods; and its stately windings are frequently caught through an irregular perspective colonnade of the trunks of trees, while their beautiful foliage embowers you above, and calms and attunes your mind to the beauties of the farther prospect. Its vessels never overpower it (I mean as landscape), that is to say, you never think of a crowd of masts, of coals, of bawlings, of canals, and all the horrors of navigation.

A graceful sail now and then glides swiftly through the trees, or dimples the silver surface, the here-and-there cascade having eminent beauty, deserving of notice; and the cultivated fields enwrapping the hills.

The skirts of the vast cataracts at Trollhättan, and indeed at Edet, are applied to the sawing of timber; and in various parts of Sweden the sledgehammer is raised, the borer driven, and the polisher whirled by the same perpetual power.

Thursday, June 30.—Sir John Moore embarked last night. Learn that he had been a prisoner at Stockholm, and had made his escape. See General Stewart; learn that the point in dispute between the General and the King[16] had been the attack upon Norway, which His Majesty had stated was impossible, but in a subsequent conversation, being reminded of this statement, he denied it in the most positive terms.

The General said, “Not only I, but Colonel Murray, heard you; but if your Majesty says you did not say so, I must have misunderstood you.”

The King accuses him of disrespect—in a rage.

Sir John, to pacify, concedes so far as to say he will wait for further despatches, but on going home and reflecting, finds his instructions too positive to admit of it, and apprises the King that he must depart from the country.

The King sends to him in the middle of the night to say that he must not leave Stockholm without his permission.

The General immediately despatches a messenger to embark every part of the army, and remonstrates upon the detention. No answer; but the next day a repetition of prohibition arrives.

Sir John takes a drive in the curricle of the Secretary of Legation beyond the first stage, where he is taken up in his plain clothes by a messenger, who, with his courier’s pass, gets along uninterrupted. He arrived at Gothenburg on Wednesday, 29th June, and pushed off for the Victory. Only the Admiral knew him.

Saturday, July 2.—The General desires to see Burgoyne and me immediately, and we go on board the Victory.

Sir John Moore informs us that the Admirals, particularly Keats, are anxious about the little island of Sproe in the Great Belt, upon which during winter the French might establish themselves, and harbour gunboats, to the annoyance of the passage in summer.

The French had designed to possess it, and built a barrack on it, and there is a probability that next winter they may complete their design, which formerly they began too late.

The Admirals desire to forestall the enemy, and I must go to see if the nature of the island and our means admit of such a defence being established before the necessary departure of the Fleet. The British have destroyed the barrack made by the French, so that barracks, storehouses, etc., for the troops must be established, as well as fortifications.

Sunday, July 3.—Get up at 3 A.M.; pack. At four pilot comes on board. Fleet gets under way. At seven Admiral sends on board and takes me away.

Go on board the Superb. No instruments, no colours. Apply to be sent on board the Victory to see Sir John Moore. Sir John comes up himself to take me to the Admiral’s breakfast. General Stewart brings instructions; Admiral very civil.

Sail with a convoy of merchantmen and the Etna towards the Belt. The army leaves for England.

July 5.—Heavy foggy weather with rain; coast of Jutland in sight.

July 6.—Came in sight of Sproe. Next morning I go on shore with surveying implements, half survey it, and next day complete survey. Superb in sight. As I go on shore in the afternoon, I receive a note from Admiral Keats to breakfast with him, and come again on board the Superb. Takes me altogether into the cabin. I enlarge my scale of plan, and prepare it for the field.

Sunday, July 10.—Victory, Edgar, and Cruizer in sight, entering the Belt. Admiral Keats takes me a divil of a row to meet the Superb. Captain Graves dines there, and begs the boys to go on shore. Joey Easterbrook prefers it to the Admiral’s dinner. Poor FitzClarence left behind. “It was a cruel thing,” he said. After dinner ye Admiral, Captain Graves, and myself, go on shore. Boys shoved off ere our arrival. Admiral snuffs the green air; walk over the ground, gather wild spinach, return on board. The youngsters were in dismay! The Captain’s Newfoundland dog Tigress having run down a sheep, which had taken refuge in the sea, they feared it would be laid to them, but they had neatly skinned it, and hoped their mess would benefit by it. Little rascals! The Admiral, from prudential motives, took particular care that they should not taste it.

Dear little Georges begged the officer on deck to let him put me on board the Brunswick. This began our friendship. He put me on board, I having agreed with Admiral Keats that, as I should finish with the island to-morrow, I should again come on board the Superb.

Tuesday, July 12.—This day drew up my report. Ships weigh, and anchor again.

July 19.—Desired by Sir James to travel in plain clothes. Make necessary change. Signal made, “Send Mr. Boothby on board the Swan cutter immediately. Make haste.”[17]

Sit down in the cabin with a party of particular friends. Georges in the chair, Lord Bury on my right hand, little Johnny Russell over against me. Boat ready; cutter waiting. Take an affectionate leave of my friends, Georges, Lord Bury, and Johnny, and part from Admiral Keats in the kindest manner; indeed, his behaviour and friendly conduct had quite attached me to him.

When taking leave of the wardroom officers I am entreated below to wine, steadily refuse, but Captain Jackson being gone with the Admiral, Mr. Crowe, the first lieutenant, orders me to be carried below, upon which officers, youngsters, and marines surround me, and spite of a strenuous resistance, carry me bodily by neck and heels into the wardroom, where I drink adieu.

Sent on board the Admiral to receive more despatches. Get on board the cutter; nasty odious little thing. Pass close under the Superb’s stern. All hands crowd the poop, and actively wave me many farewells.

Wind foul; go to bed.

July 20.—Wind still fouler. Change our tack, and at length conceive hopes of arriving at Ystad, a pretty-looking town as seen from the distance; but nothing can be more park-like and beautiful than the shores of the Great Belt.

Get on shore about 5 P.M. Sailors take up my baggage. Go to the inn. Mr. Lucas brings Mr. Strom (clerk to an Ystad merchant), who undertakes my passports, horses, etc. Asking about Swedish travelling, it appears that robbing or breach of trust are species of dishonesty unknown to the Swedes. Send my baggage off at ten, start at eleven. No moon, good horses. As I go along, astonished to see the sea on my right hand. “How the devil,” said I, “can this be?”

The sea, in or out of sight, must be to the left hand. But still I saw the sea approaching even to the edge of the road, broken by beautiful ports, isles, and rocks. “Diable,” said I, “what call you dat?” pointing to a fine harbour, embossed with islands and romantic shores. The driver looked, but returned no answer, for he saw nothing but the white mist arising from the face of the earth. The deception was complete. A bank on the left of the road obstructed my view, but on the right it commanded an extensive tract of country. The thick, white, shining mists lying in the low grounds gave them the exact appearance of water at that dusk time of night, while mountains in their range sketched out the harbours and islands which I had discovered.[18]

Overtake my baggage, and arrive.

July 21.—At Everslip by half-past one. Dispatch the holker for horses. Go into a room in the house, like an oven; no light, but merely darkness visible; lie on a sofa; see a black many-legged reptile glide across the wall; start up and go out to meet my baggage.

Men impatient for payment. “What will you have?” “For my two horses, five dollars.” “Rascal! I will give you one and a half, which I know to be right, and a half for yourself.” “Very right, tanka,” said he. Baggage arrives—relieved.

Daylight now, as with a mantle, robed our world, and bade fictitious seas and white mists yield the deceptive mask. And now I took the reins.

Crick, crack, the horses fly,

At every click more swift they hie.

Sudden each blade of grass, each feathered shrub, gleamed golden bright, and turning to the east, the glorious orb above the hills exalted half his disk.

This morn his crimson robe he chose, translucent,

That sheds its glowing tints on every mound,

And spreads its warm refulgence o’er the ground.

Arrive at Regerberg much tired, and roost. Wait for horses; start at half-past twelve, and arrive at Glumslouf. View beautiful—wooded banks of Zealand, Copenhagen spires. Meet divers Swedish nobles; they are diverted at the manner in which I expedite the hostler. “Holker,” said I, and he looking back, I shake a bag of halfpence at him, and he runs like blazes.

Arrive at Helsingborg at five; much delighted as I approach with the view of Zealand.

The Orion and Vanguard and Calypso in the Sound, and beautiful Cronberg Castle beyond them.

Drive to Mr. Fenwick, the British Consul, and deliver letters. He, a gentlemanlike young man, actively obliging, procures me a room, and invites me to his house. Covered with dust and sweat, I plunge delightedly, and lave my limbs, then I robe myself afresh, and freed from all my dirt, sally forth and drink tea at the Consul’s. The boat announced, we proceed on board the Orion, and I deliver my despatches. As Admiral Bertie is not on board, I reclaim them, and pursue him to the Vanguard. Return on shore, sup with Mr. Fenwick, who gives me a snuff-box. Go to bed at twelve.

July 22, Friday.—Get up half-past 2 A.M., open the window, to find a midshipman looking for me, so I dress quick and send baggage to boat.

Admiral had said at daylight the Calypso’s instructions should be perfectly ready. Get on board about four—delightful brig. Captain goes on board the Orion; no despatches yet. Fine breeze, which would shoot us by Cronberg Castle and the swarming gunboats, blowing to waste. At 2 P.M. calm.

Signal made by telegraph: “Come on board; bring the engineer.” So we go on board, and Calypso weighs; as the breeze rises away we go; there is no firing, and we dart along.

July 25, Monday.—Fall in with a Dutch fishing-boat and board her, and get ten or a dozen very large cod. Fish ourselves; catch numerous mackerel in a light breeze—beautiful dying—green, blue, red, and rose. Becalmed. Plumb for cod; catch plenty, very large codfish and ling, also a dogfish. Cabinetmaker begs the skin to finish off his work. This evening the sun set in unusual splendour; he sank down into a thick indigo bank, whose edges he tinged with colours dipt in heaven. Sky tinctured green, and all above was yellow golden radiance, richly fretted in vapours, which blended off to the wilder clouds in the richest roseate glow. The sea was glassy smooth, but heaved gently with majesty, in her borrowed robe of gold refulgent, while in the east a perfect bow shone in full colours, striding over heaven, an arch superb, which the reflecting waves joined underneath again, making the round complete:—

The horizon round was dim, sublime,

And wild, warm clouds mingled with ocean line.

Rain,—imperceptible breeze; slip through at four knots. 140 miles from Yarmouth.

July 28, Thursday, 4 A.M.—Fair wind, going nine miles per hour. Board a suspicious vessel like a French privateer and find her a Greenland schooner. Heavy rain, dirty weather, close to Norfolk coast. Anchor for the night.

July 29, Friday, 4 A.M.—As we were getting up anchor the fog came on very thick. And though the wind at length relents, the envious fog still obscures the entrance to port; as it clears away we weigh anchor about 1 P.M., at which time I land, having preceded in the gig with Captain Bradby.

I wait upon Admiral Douglas, and hear that Sir J. Moore is at Portsmouth and expected to sail hourly. After this very fretful. Go on board again to make distribution of bag, but return immediately and get on shore half an hour before the mail starts. Take my place. In the mail are two men in coarse jackets and trousers, just escaped from France, having broken their parole. The joy of having escaped seemed entirely to fly away with all compunction, if indeed they had any conscience. They had undergone great hardships, so I smothered the severity of my disapprobation.

July 30.—Go to the Blenheim Hotel, Bond Street. Find that General Moore has taken care that I shall follow him. The General invites me to breakfast to talk of my report. See Sir R. Milnes. Call on Mrs. Meynell.

July 31.—Breakfast with General Moore. Office to-morrow. No tidings of baggage. Write letters home.

Blenheim Hotel, New Bond Street,
July 31, 1808.

My Louisa—First let me tell you that I am going to-morrow to Portsmouth to join or follow Sir John Moore, so hope not to see me just yet.

Having completed my services in the Baltic, I arrived at Yarmouth yesterday, and hearing that Sir J. Moore only waited for a wind, I was upon tenterhooks until in London, so half an hour after I landed I put myself into the mail, and arrived here at nine o’clock this morning. “Keep moving” has been for some time my motto.

Now, my own lass, have I much to discourse with thee about. There is my journey to Trollhättan and my peregrinations in the Baltic, my travels again through Sweden, all which, as I kept a circumstantial journal, you shall be sure to have. The civility and kindness of Admiral Keats, with whom I lived, made my stay quite delightful. After I had been on board three days it was necessary to transfer me to another line-of-battle ship, and when I was going he told me he should be back in a few days: “And then, if you please, you shall take up your quarters with me.” This pleased me much, and when he did return he took me into his cabin, and I was as happy as the day was long, although very hard worked. He is by all the Navy esteemed now the first character in it, and all his officers, although they dislike him, absolutely swear by him in a professional point of view, and acknowledge that they believe a better or more tender-hearted man does not exist, but still he is disagreeable on duty. He, as Captain Keats, commanded the Superb in Admiral Saumarcy’s action off Algeciras, dashed in between two Spanish three-deckers, and, giving each a broadside, passed clear in the smoke and engaged another ship of equal force, which he sank. Meanwhile the two Spaniards continued by mistake to fight each other in the smoke until they both blew up; thus by such conduct he destroyed three line-of-battle ships. All the great folks send their sons under his charge, and admirably kind and masterly he is with them. A son of the Duke of Clarence is with him, a fine lad. I never saw such delightful boys. The Admiral makes them write sham letters to him every Saturday. My favourite, little Georges, gave an account of a sea-fight. “My Lords,” he says, “I enclose a copy of my letter to Admiral Easterbrooke (another monkey just like himself), and in an event of this importance I have thought it necessary to send my first lieutenant, Hawkins (another), to whom I refer your Lordships for any further, etc., and beg to recommend him, etc., as an officer of distinguished merit, etc.,” and so on.

The Admiral has a favourite little dog and a favourite cow. “I think it very odd, Mr. Georges,” said he, “that none of you youngsters have had the civility to write to my dog or cow; it would do just as well to exercise you; besides, you might take a sly fling at the Admiral.”

So next time young Georges writes:—“Dear Madam Cow,” begging her to bestow a little of her great bag of milk on the youngsters—a pretty broad hint to the Admiral. But what prattle is this! I delivered my papers to the chief engineer this morning, the originals of which are sent, I fancy, to Lord Castlereagh and the Admiralty. My chief received me very graciously. I learned from him with great joy that General Moore had applied to Lord Chatham to have me follow him, and that his Lordship had acceded; but as General Moore does not command in chief, I have no staff hopes, for the present at least.

The people in this house speak in raptures of dearest old Dad.... Do you write by return of post, and I shall write to-morrow, and in the meantime, my dearest Lou, Heaven have thee in its holy keeping.

Charles.

I breakfast with my chief to-morrow, and only wait my baggage from Yarmouth.

I think after a Spanish or Portuguese campaign I may rest a bit, and perhaps a peace will bless the world and fetter Buonaparte, for unfettered the rascal cannot be left.

August 2.—Wretchedly fidgety about my baggage. Get a letter from Bradby telling me where to find it, as it has been delayed by the Custom House officers.

August 4, 5 o’clock A.M.—Start on the stage for Portsmouth, having sent my baggage on before.

“Penelope” Transport (P.S.),
August 9, 1808.

Dearest Louisa—Here I am embarked, and your letters in future had better be addressed to me with the expedition under Sir Harry Burrard and sent to the engineers’ office.—Ever yours,

Charles.

August 9, Tuesday.—N.E. Bustle aboard the Penelope brig. Get on board at twelve. Get under way.

N.W. Tossing ten at night. God send a good passage. Forty-two sail, including the convoy.

August 10, Wednesday.—Off. St. Albans barely in sight. Foul wind. At the old work—toss, tack, toss, toss, tack toss, toss tack. Stercoraceous smells under my berth; porter used to be stored there; a chance fracture stains the straw and accounts for it.

August 12.—A very numerous fleet under the land, sailing up Channel. Breeze freshens. Cool dry weather. An Italian tailor told me to-day that the English have good pay, but that in five weeks in London he spent all he had gained in the rest of the year. When mirth sat in the heart and money lay in the pocket he could not resist it, he said; and what with dances, coaches, dresses, and feasts, guineas flew out like dust, and he was forced to come to sea again!

Breeze increased at about 11 P.M.; blew very hard; short high sea; signal to veer, and sail on starboard tack.

August 13, Saturday, 2 A.M.—A gale S.W. very high. Suppose at daylight he will run for Plymouth. Rendezvous signal. Plymouth Sound. Anchor outside the Drake Islands at 8 P.M.

August 14, Sunday.—Weigh and get within the bight. Write letters.

Plymouth Sound,
“Penelope” Brig, August 14.

Sweet Sister—Encountering a S.W. gale has led us a sad rakish life. We were glad to put in here to-night, an operation which the thickness of the weather rendered very bothering.

As the wind may blow contrary some time, write to me here, directed Army under Sir H. Burrard, Plymouth, or elsewhere.

Chickens all well, but Jack and I cannot get the ducks to eat now; they waddle about and crack their toes. Jack’s great delight (Jack is the cabin boy, my only companion) is my solicitude about the ducks, and I thought he never would have done laughing when I told him to clean away some tar from the coop because it made them sneeze; and when we turned them out to exercise the other day, one tried to quack and could not, so Jack said, “He’s speechless, sir.” We anchored at eight o’clock—sad, sad work. Should have been half way to Lisbon.—Ever yours,

Charles.

August 15, Monday.—French prize brought in yesterday, a fine brig of war of eighteen guns. She was in company with a corvette and another brig of equal force. They gave chase to an English twenty-gun ship, which disguised herself and stopped her way. The brig that was taken outsailed the other and began to engage the Englishman, upon which the corvette and other brig crowded sail and made off, while their more honourable companion, after fighting thirty-five minutes, was taken.

August 19, Friday.—Wind fresh, six knots, smooth water. At evening a bird flying like a duck met the ship, and lighted on the foretopsail yard, where he began looking up and down and all about, peering, as it were, with his long flexible neck and long beak. When it became dark, Antonio, a cunning, merry Italian, went aloft to try to catch him, at which everybody cried, “Fool!”—As he perched with his face aft, the man got on the foreside the sail (they wondered how the devil he managed it), and we could see his hands glide under the yard until they laid hold of the animal, which he brought down with him upon deck, the enraged creature snapping at him all the time with great dexterity.

He was very savage and the size and colour of a large goshawk, but a much slimmer-bodied bird; his pinions, plumage, tail, and standing position of his body like a hawk; his head but very slightly deviating from the bulk of his neck; sleek appearance; his long beak hooked at the end of the upper limb; his eyes, light blue, yet wild, ardent, and piercing, were placed close to the sit of the beak; his legs short and thick, of a black colour; his feet large, long, and triangular, the webs white, and claws at the ends of the toes.

Unfortunately and thoughtlessly Antonio’s wish to have his wing cut was complied with, and he would not eat.

August 20, Saturday.—At 6 P.M. land discovered well on the larboard bow; supposed neighbourhood of Cape Ortegal. Blowing exceeding hard, heavy sea, eight knots. Bird won’t eat.

August 21, Sunday.—3 A.M. wind drops. Eight o’clock thick fog; not yet weathered Cape Finisterre. Having seen the land at no great distance, and the strange bird refusing all food, I proposed to liberate him, thinking that of two chances for his life that was the least desperate, namely, his being able to row to some land where he might seek his food unassisted by flight. Accordingly the string was taken from his leg and he was left at large. After walking about a bit, he came in sight of the water through the door of the gangway that had been opened for him. He immediately perched upon the edge of the vessel, looking earnestly about as if to discover land, tried his wings, seemed sensible of the defect, but at last he stooped and soon reached the water.

We had endeavoured to palliate the injury by cutting the other wing exactly in the same manner as the first, not pinioned, merely the ends of the feathers taken off. When he reached the water he rowed from the ship with amazing swiftness and began to wash himself and play with infinite delight, plunging his head into the water, and seeming in complete enjoyment. The ship was stealing on about a mile and a half an hour, and we had lost sight of the bird, when, to our great surprise, he hove again in sight, and seemed pulling after the ship as hard as he could. There was a very heavy swell, and we could see him dive up hill and down, and gain upon the ship astonishingly fast. We still could hardly think he wished to come on board again, until he came close alongside, and kept close to the gangway (where he had gone from the ship), looking up with anxiety. A man was then let down to the water’s edge, when, instead of pulling off, the bird came to him with open mouth, clapping its wings, and showed the utmost impatience to be taken up. When he came on board he was much fatigued and his plumage was wet. He still refused to eat, but a little fish and water was put down his beak, which he swallowed. He seems weak and ill, and I fear will die before we are able to relieve him. He is become tame, however, and has his liberty about the deck, and he knows he may go when he likes, which I hope comforts him. I would give two guineas at this moment (and I have but six) to restore him those bits of feathers of which he was robbed; but, at any rate, he is no longer disgusted with the nastiness of the ducks, with whom we put him at first, in hopes they might get acquainted and induce him to take pot-luck with them; but he treated them with the most scorning contempt, and seemed to think them most filthy companions, and the devotion and animation with which he cleansed himself from their filth when he got into the water was quite beautiful to see. At twelve it cleared up so as we could see the land—Cape Finisterre. Light breeze. Fog gone.

August 22, Monday.—This morning the strange bird at four o’clock leapt again from the side and pulled from the ship with a swift and steady course until out of sight. He kept up his looks amazingly well, and probably the fish and water stuffed down his throat sustained him, and, as if aware that he had exhausted himself before, he never stayed to wash or amuse himself. Fare him well.

August 24, Wednesday.—Fogs, foul wind, good breeze towards evening. Land ahead. Signal made for Mondego, and bear away accordingly.

August 25, Thursday.—A nice breeze at 12 A.M. and very clear. Sandy shore, sand hills, north of Mondego. Lay to for three ships astern.

August 26, Friday.—Breeze blowing right out of harbour. Very angry at the wind; expect not to get in to-day. At half-past nine boat alongside. Onions, pears, apples, apricots, bread. Learn from them that the great fleet is gone to Lisbon, and am then sure that we shall follow. Soon after signal to steer W.S.W.

August 27.—Dead calm, fog, rain, heavy sea.

Foul breeze.

Sad work.

August 31, Wednesday.—At 5 A.M. Rock of Lisbon in sight. Pass through Sir Harry Burrard’s fleet on their way to England. When we come abreast of the Rock, seven o’clock, we soon hear from the agent that the army had made a bad business of the landing, which took place on the Maer, many lives being lost. It was supposed that we were either to land in the same place, should the wind favour, or return to Mondego.

An action had taken place, in which Sir H. Burrard was in person. 5000 French taken, 800 British lost. The British forces said to consist of Sir A. Wellesley’s expedition. Stand in at ten o’clock for the Rock of Lisbon. Come in sight of the Tagus blockading fleet, under command of Sir Charles Cotton. Bring to, then go on the starboard tack, and God knows when or where we shall land. Eurydice leaves us for Halifax.

September 1.—Still tacking for Lisbon. I go on board—the commander of the convoy, Captain Mayne—Primrose brig sloop.

Tell him that, being astray, I was just now particularly anxious to get to the army, as I supposed the Engineers might possibly be actively employed. He then told me that the game was up, that Junot was allowed to return to France with his troops and plunder, but that the English had told the Russian Admiral that he must either surrender or fight; that Sir J. M. and Sir A. W. were raving at Sir H. D.[19] and Sir H. B. on account of the terms allowed to General Junot, and that we should go in to-day or to-morrow. Stand out till twelve. Wind blowing very hard.

September 2, Friday.—Signal to anchor. Beat up towards an anchorage near the Rock of Lisbon, where the African and convoy had brought up last night. At nine o’clock see a Russian flag of truce go to the British Admiral.

Come to an anchor off Cascaes at two o’clock. Go on shore. See Captain M’Leod of the Barfleur. Find on inquiry that it is not known where the army was. It had been at Mafia, but it appeared that it was moving. The 42nd Regiment, commanded by Colonel Stirling, had taken port at Cascaes. The Colonel despaired of getting important despatches to Sir Henry, so I determined not to set out for the army until their situation is known. Write home.

Off Cascaes, Sept. 3, 1808.

My Louisa—After the most tedious and provoking passage we came to an anchor yesterday noon off the fortified town named in the date, at the entrance to the Tagus. Things are in this situation, General Junot having lost a battle, much to the glory of Sir A. Wellesley and his army, in which the enemy were nearly two to one. Sir Henry Dalrymple, by terms which at the first view appear unaccountably favourable to the French, has induced him to capitulate, and he, with his troops, are to be sent in our transport to Rochefort, and the Russian fleet on the Tagus, we hear, is to be taken to England under Russian colours, to await the event of negotiations with the autocrat.

In pursuance of this treaty, Fort São Julião, and all the works and places more remote from Lisbon, are already under English colours, and it is expected that to-day or to-morrow the embarkation of the French will take place. Sir Harry Burrard, they say, arrived himself just before the action commenced, having landed at Mondego, but left Sir A. Wellesley to carry through the plan of battle, which was fully designed. The event was that the enemy were amazingly beaten.

Just as the French had fallen back on their entrenchments, it is said that intelligence was brought of Sir J. Moore having arrived with 14,000 men, which new situation of things and proportion of armies relatively convinced Sir Harry Burrard that the enemy must capitulate, and although (it is said) Sir A. Wellesley did all but kneel, saying that unless he was permitted to follow up the glory of the day that of the army would be tarnished, Sir H. B. persisted in putting a stop to hostilities, and a capitulation has been finally entered into by which the main point is carried, but in which the pride of the army and the wishes of the Portuguese do hardly appear to have been sufficiently considered. The enemy was at our feet, and after very hard fighting the army had a right to conquest, and after being ground by their oppressors, the Portuguese should have been allowed the natural triumph of seeing the objects of their abhorrence humbled.

I went yesterday to Cascaes, with intent to join the army, but the commanding officer (colonel of the 42nd) knew not where it was, and could not forward despatches of importance to the General. To-day I shall go to the Fort São Julião and make a stout attempt to get to them, but all fighting is over here. Farewell, own lass.

Charles.

September 3, Saturday.—Penelope’s boat lands us at Fort São Julião at one o’clock. Go to Colonel Blunt (commanding 3rd Buffs). Very civil man. Sends his orderly with us to Ociras to point out the road to Cintra, where the army is. At Ociras, a mile from Fort São Julião, get animals. Arrive at the Palace of Cintra, occupied by Sir Henry Dalrymple. Get an excellent bed, the inn kept by an Irishwoman. A romantic spot. The mountains of Cintra part of the range of the Rock of Lisbon.

September 4, Sunday.—See Squire, Lord W. Bentinck, and Burgos. Walk with Burgos towards English camp. Meet mules. Return with him and ascend the mountains of Cintra. Meet General Moore—bon! Reach the top, crowned with a convent, continuing the very highest peak of the Rock. Noble view from thence. Take many angles with a righted compass. Go west over the mountains to a reputed curiosity, which Mulcaster calls the convent of cork. Find it lined with cork—cork door and cork ceiling, etc., to keep out damp. Go into refectory; drink and eat. Table hewn out of the top of an enormous pebble, whose bottom formed the ceiling of the church. Find Williams and Drevil at the inn, having come from Sir A. W.’s army. Williams and I sleep at the inn. In the morning army to move towards Fort São Julião.

September 6.—Dine with General Moore—bon! Ordered to hold myself in readiness for Elvas.

September 10.—Buy two horses at 18 guineas each. Dine with Squire. Fletcher arrives and tells me I march at four o’clock the following day.

September 11.—Pack up till two. Row servant. Send artificer off with baggage and start myself. Arrive at General Moore’s quarters. Go to Lisbon to embark the horses.

September 13.—March with regiment and arrive at Vendas Novas, passing through uninteresting country. Here is a palace belonging to the Prince capable of containing 10,000 men, stables for 500 horses, adequate kitchens and water. Beastly contrived, great staring barrack rather than palace, and the French had torn down wainscoting and false doors in search of treasure.

Proceed over like country until within five miles of Montemor o Novo, when it becomes more rich and wooded; indeed, all along the beautiful foliage of the cork trees greatly relieved the sandy sterility of the way.

Arrive at Montemor o Novo. Regiment camps out. Get good billet. Wall round the castle. Examine the position. Sup and sleep excellently. Silver ewers and covers.

September 14.—Re-examine position. Nuns of the castle send to say glad to see us. Breakfast—tea, coffee, bread, butter, honey, eggs, sweetmeats, oranges—latter sent by the nuns. The Prioress from St. Domingo—the colour of gold. Eat cakes and see the ravages of the French in search of money.

Regiment marched through this morning at five o’clock.

Start for Arrayolos, distance twelve miles.

September 15.—Arrive at Venda do Dogue, apparently a poor farmhouse, and we found that the farmer was a Captain. I observed that the Captain was a sensible man, preferring to gain bread by open honest industry to starving his wife and family by a strained support of gentility; and on asking whether we might not venture to offer some sort of compensation for what we were supplied with, my servant told me they were the richest people in the country; that this was their place of retirement from their palace in the city! We had a sumptuous breakfast, with sweetmeats. Started at twelve and reached Estremoz at four—a walled town with a citadel. Here we find the regiment. Get a billet on Adjutant Gaze and find that the Spaniards are before Elvas. Propose to Colonel R. to go forward to reconnoitre. Regiment encamp a league beyond the town.

September 16.—At six o’clock start for the camp, and find I had better not go forward, as Cockburn, who was gone to Lisbon, had brought intelligence that the Frenchmen had required an officer from Junot to authenticate the orders of surrender, and a suspension had been entered into between all parties for six days; also the fort had made a convention with the town—one not firing, the other not supplying or admitting the Spaniards. Therefore he thought the appearance of an Engineer might excite jealousy, etc.

Get permission to go on.

Bring Elvas and Fort La Lippe in view. Arrive at the first post of cavalry in rear of the Spanish camp. Sent from one camp to the other, till at last, about two o’clock, we reach the Colonel’s tent off Badajoz. We step into the tent and join the Colonel and other officers at dinner—a most excellent mess of rice and salt fish, in a camp kettle, and first-rate sausages. We get on most merrily. I give the health of Fernando Septimo. The jolly Colonel roars. Replies the thundering tent, and the whole camp resounds. Bon!

Conducted to the General. He doubts our errand, and bids us wait the return of a British officer from Badajoz. This was O’Brien, who had been sent on before with a communication to the fort.

We said No; if the General would not give us permission to see the batteries, we would go to Elvas.

The General’s aide-de-camp said that we could not go to Elvas because of the Convention.

I asked if there was a Spanish guard over the gates. “No.” “Then pass us through your camp.”

An officer conducted us through the greater part, and pointed out the road to Elvas and left us.

We were brought up by the advanced posts, commanded by a Colonel of Cavalry—true Spanish face. He made some difficulty, but passed us at length, and we arrived at half-past four at the gates of Elvas, where we sent in for permission to enter the town.

While we were waiting in the sun, sufficiently vexed at our occupation, up came two Spanish dragoons and said that by order of their Colonel we must go back with them.

Finding that we were two armed to two, we refused compliance with their arbitrary message; but soon four more arrived, and intimated that they were prepared to enforce it. I then desired that we might wait the answer from within the town, Bernardo damning them into compliance. The gates at length opened, and a Portuguese officer and guard appeared, when we were admitted in pomp, and the poor dragoons refused a hearing. We said we were far from wishing them to enter, and Bernardo set up a loud laugh. We then went to the General, who took us to the Bishop—a good man, trembling at the critical situation of his town.

I explained what had happened, and he rather wished our return. I said we could go there to-morrow on our way home.

He then offered us his country house, and we were taken to the Junta, of which the Bishop is the head, and it was resolved there that we should stay. The Bishop told them what I had told him, that there was no doubt of the French surrendering the town, because the whole French army was in our power, and it would ruin them if the Convention was broken. Lodge at the house of a jolly, hospitable Major de bon Cœur.

September 17.—Start for the Spanish camp at nine o’clock, having procured credentials from the Judge. Visit the cavalrymen’s tent. Nothing passes about yesterday. Rains excessively hard. Conducted to the General; find O’Brien there. Now well received. Get permission to see the batteries—four 24-pounders and 6 guns,—and am set down to a ham, the finest I ever tasted.

Return to Estremoz. I, a Christian, talk much by the way to O’Brien, a sceptic. Agree on poetry. Lose our way five times. Pass through Borba, the prettiest Portuguese place yet seen. Arrive at Estremoz, and get some dinner at Colonel R.’s.

September 18, Sunday.—Seek for breakfast. Find in a coffee-house a nauseous party of Portuguese officers, who gamed and drank and smoked and stank. The dignified commander of cavalry—a yellow individual covered with dirt and stars—undertook to ask for what we wanted, as he spoke French. I told him we wanted bread, honey, coffee, and boiled eggs. I watched his interpretation to the women. He said these gentlemen want “bread, honey, coffee, and eggs, all boiled together,” to explain which he made a motion with his hand to stir it about. The woman looked petrified, and we roared, and the cavalier was confounded. Swallow our breakfast. Get another billet.

Colonel R. has a field day in the square, to show the people how to do it, which went off admirably.

September 19.—Colbourn returns at 5 A.M. with a French officer, a nice little fellow with a red face, much tired by attending Colbourn’s rapid steps from Lisbon. We arrived at the camp, and at the General’s found some difficulties—no admittance to the fort without communicating with Badajoz. A messenger was despatched, and we said we would go to Elvas. That could not be permitted. They begged we would remain with the General until the return of the messenger, which would be at six o’clock. Colbourn said first of all, “Very well”; but upon consulting, we agreed it would be better to go to a village about a league off and return at six. We communicated this to the A.D.C., who seemed much troubled, and said his General understood we should remain, and would be much better pleased if we did.

“But we have changed our minds.”

“Ah! but I don’t know whether the General will permit it.”

“What! would he keep us prisoners here?”

“Oh, no.”

Upon which he ran to the General and returned with answer, “That we must do as we pleased.”

We then went to a house about a league off, ate some bread and fruit, and returned at 6 P.M. to find the messenger not returned, nor post horses from Elvas arrived.

The having the French officer with us in the Spanish camp, where every one was ready to cut his throat, gave us some uneasiness, for we witnessed in the Spanish, officers and all, a hatred not to be overcome for a moment. The Adjutant-General came to me and whispered, “Is that an Englishman?” “No,” said I, “French.” He started away, and the effect it had on him immediately called to my mind the case of a man with hydrophobia at the sight of water. They would offer him nothing to eat, although they saw him sinking for want of refreshment and rest. So whatever they gave us we offered to him before we would touch it. Even the old cook who filled my glass with a smiling face settled his countenance into a solemn gloom as he transferred the mouth of the bottle to the Frenchman’s cup.

This sort of thing made us determine to decline the entreaty of the General and to sleep in a small town called Bersim, in which Colbourn knew a house where our charge would be secure.

“Et me voilà à cheval encore,” said he as we left the camp. Our kind demeanour to him contrasted with the Spanish scowl; our jokes, loud laughter, and general merriment seemed to give him the utmost confidence in our protection. He was about seventeen years old, with a florid countenance and slight form; a page to Napoleon and a lieutenant in the 1st Regiment of Dragoons.

When we arrived at our house about ten o’clock the master received us very well, and immediately began talking of the French, asked if they were all embarked, and hoped we would send them to the bottom. At this the little Frenchman cocked his ears, and bursting with laughter, asked if he did not tell us to send ’em to the bottom. This afforded us much amusement a great part of the night. We put the Frenchman in the middle, that they might have the less chance of finding him.

September 20.—O’Brien and I, getting up, could not perceive the head of the Frenchman, so we removed softly the cloak to see whether it was on all safe. Our host coming in about six, I asked him how he did, saying, “England for ever! no Frenchmen!” which made our little friend laugh right heartily. The old man again hoped we should send them to the bottom. “Why?” said the Frenchman. “Because they are good-for-nothing fellows,” said the host. At last he began to suspect, by our laughter, the difference of uniform, and the two different languages, which he perceived we spoke among us, that all was not right, and I being dressed in blue and the Frenchman in green, he set us both down for Frenchmen; and though I assured him I was English, all the household looked at me with a very doubting civility afterwards.

At ten o’clock we started again for the camp, and arrived there about twelve. The answer had arrived, and the Spanish General Galazo admitted of our communication with the fort, but sent thither at the same time some ridiculous proposals of his own. We set out for the fort accompanied by a Spanish aide-de-camp. The commander of the fort was General Novellard. After settling our business, the Spanish aide-de-camp proposed from his General that the French should evacuate the fort in twenty-four hours and lay down their arms on the glacis.

The Frenchman, instead of reply, gave him a most severe rowing upon the little attention paid by the Spaniards to the laws of war. The officers, he said, had neither probity nor honour. “If,” said he, “you recommence the fire, I shall destroy Elvas, while all the harm you can do to me will be the loss of ten or fifteen Frenchmen; the harm you do to the fort will injure your friends and allies the English, whose possession it now is. I had hoped that this business would have been ended in a manner worthy of civilised soldiers, and that all our rancour, our hatred, and our courage would have been reserved for another field of battle. I will have no communication with you. If you send a flag of truce I shall fire upon it; so you have served mine. There are forty Spaniards (besides two, my prisoners, who have broken their parole) offered for three French prisoners in your hands. I have made this offer twenty-five times unanswered! I consider this fort is an English possession, and in the execution of a treaty under the sanctity of the French word we will all perish. Messieurs Anglais, come to your fort; its guns shall protect your approach; here you shall be lodged, but I cannot march out my garrison until the Spaniards have decamped, for they are not soldiers, and in spite of all treaties, would assassinate my people in the road.”

So spake General Novellard, a keen, cool, sensible Frenchman with a hawk’s eye.

In reminding the Spaniards that the Convention of Lisbon allowed them to show themselves again on the Spanish frontier, as well as in the drift of his whole speech, he showed a cunning desire to set us together by the ears.

But although the Spaniards had provoked us, and we enjoyed the whole thing, we refused even a smile, or motion of assent or approbation.

The Spaniard was greatly agitated, and spoke bad French. He said he had no plans.

We then went to Elvas without asking leave of the Spaniards. Got post-horses there, O’Brien and I leaving our own horses. While taking our coffee we talked much with a Spanish Brigadier-General, who complained of our Convention. “We were sending 20,000 men (whose throats they had fondly hoped to cut), with their arms in their hands, upon the Spanish frontier. These men,” he said, “had committed such enormities, that even though a different conduct on the part of our General had caused the erasure of Lisbon and the death of half its population, it would have been witnessed with shouts of joy, so long as the French themselves were included in the crash.”

“Well, but,” said I, “we have just brought you 10,000 Spaniards from Denmark.” He smiled and said, “He had heard it.” “And,” I added, “if you will let us assist you, our greatest desire is to go with you into Spain and help you to drive out the French, whom we long to fight again. We honour the Spanish nation, and desire to be friends with it for ever.” He seemed highly pleased, and made some apology for the dress of their army before Elvas.

I said, “It was no uncommon thing to see soldiers all dressed alike, but when we saw a Spanish army in the dress of peasants, it reminded us of the glorious exertions made by the whole body of the Spanish people, and we honoured them ten times more.”

He seemed delighted, and said that “the Spanish people were the noblest in the world, that the Government had wished to clothe them, but with one voice they replied, ‘In the dress of peasants we have rescued our country and beat the French in Spain; in the dress of peasants we will utterly destroy them.’” This Spanish General then reprobated the conduct of Galazo, who, he said, had sent his troops before Elvas in consequence of the Convention made by the English.

We were now ready to return to the Spanish camp, so we called at the fort for the French officer, and all started together.

O’Brien’s horse and the Frenchman’s soon knocking up, the former takes him under convoy, and Colbourn and I ride on.

This was the first of my acquaintance with Colbourn, a sound, well-judging, good man, having also great refinement of feeling, and I hope to know more of him.

Colonel Ross sends Colbourn back to get some written extracts of what the Spanish General proposed. I sleep at the inn.

September 21.—Colbourn returns about 2 P.M. and sets off with the French officer to Lisbon.

September 23.—Regiment marches at 4 A.M. We start at nine, I leading my horse, Wills and O’Brien theirs, and Bernardo the mule, because of sore backs. Arrive at Borba, six miles, at half-past ten.

I meet a man on the road to Elvas who tells me he is the richest person hereabouts, and insists that we shall come to his house, and the ladies run to us crying Viva! and embracing our knees. We repose on a couch while breakfast prepares, consisting of chocolate, eggs, bread, pears, peaches, apricots, angelica, melon, biscuits and macaroons, and a couple of boiled fowls, with excellent wine.

Arrive at Villavicosa at two. Dine with Colonel Ross. Immense sweetmeats sent by the nuns. A marquis sends two bottles of pink champagne, one of white, and one of claret, all excellent.

September 24.—Colonel Campbell, with two more companies of the 20th Regiment, march in at 6 A. M.

September 27.—Ride with O’Brien towards Jeramenha, where the French are pouring into Spain. Portuguese treasure disgorging at Lisbon.

September 28.—Regiment marches at four for Elvas. I ride through the park and overtake the regiment before Villaboim. Ride on before it to Elvas. Find Colonel Ross, Major Colbourn, O’Brien, and Q.M.G. at breakfast with the Bishop; a very chaste breakfast and quiet attendance. Monseigneur gives us a billet upon his provisore. The whole town in a frenzy of joy, a many-tongued “Viva!” I go out with Colonel Ross to meet the regiment at the gate. At the corner of a narrow street a wild-looking Carthusian presented himself, shouting with all his might, and trembling with agitation, “Viva los nostras amicos Ingleses,” which he continued to repeat incessantly, accompanied by the most frantic and terrific gestures.

The Bishop invited all the officers to dinner at three o’clock. Very pleasant dinner, excellently cooked. Sat between old Byron and Wade, and enjoyed it much. The Bishop gave several loyal toasts, and a filial Frenchman (come to seek a wounded father) stood up and bowed with the rest. He had narrowly escaped assassination two or three times in his search.

This afternoon I went with Colbourn to see the garrison from Santa Lucia march to La Lippe, and we perhaps prevented some stragglers on the road from sharing the same fate. Afterwards I go to my provisore, an old asthmatic pastor, who understands French, and has in his library Voltaire, Racine, Molière, and many other interesting books, also the Paradise Lost of Milton in Portuguese prose. A capital house, with a charming view into Spain, far over Badajoz.

September 29.—The next day I walk to Fort La Lippe, and the French Engineers show me all over the fort, one of them a modest and agreeable sort of Frenchman, who says, “Cela coutera cher, mais on le prendra.”

Before leaving I come across an Irish rebel, who having been sent to Prussia and taken by the French, now wishes to serve King George. He had almost forgotten to speak English.

September 30.—Bishop’s conversazione in the evening.

It appears that the Junta of Seville did not authorise the interference of their foolish General Galazo in the affairs of Portugal, and it has now given him orders to join the Patriot Castanos immediately, so in obedience the Spaniards have decamped, and we are no longer obstructed in the performance of our treaties.

There is something quite curdling in the fell spirit of revenge which has taken possession of the minds of the Portuguese. No desire of freeing their country, no ardent patriotic zeal can now actuate them in their thirst for blood, for their oppressors are quelled, the game is up, and they only desire to get out of the country; and yet if a poor way-worn French soldier were to lie down and sleep under a hedge, that the first Portuguese who saw him would cut his throat and insult his corpse is as indisputable as that an Englishman under such circumstances would spare and protect him.

Last night as I was going into my room an old gray-headed woman called to me, and Bernardo (my Italian servant) interpreting, I found she accused another female of favouring the French.

I took a stick, walked into the kitchen, and jestingly shook it at the accused, whom, on turning, I perceived to be a very pretty, pensive-looking lady (for ladies here snuggle round the only fire in the kitchen), who entered on her defence very gently and persuasively, saying “that she hated the French as much as any Portuguese ought to do, but could not enter into the general triumph the other day when the mob murdered a solitary French officer, who possibly had not committed the smallest fault against them; nor could she think otherwise than with horror of those beastly women who ran and plunged their knives into the bleeding body.”

I laid my fingers on her arm, and then carried them to my lips, in token of approbation, and shook my stick at the old dame.

The Bishop gave a grand dinner two days ago to all the officers. A French officer had come with a flag of truce into the town to see the good man, as his father had been well-nigh assassinated and severely wounded, but he succeeded in getting him under the protection of the English surgeon.

The Bishop, who is an excellent man, had him to dinner, because he dare not trust him in the hands of the people; and we all, by civility and conversation, endeavoured to assure and comfort him, which gave great umbrage to the Portuguese.

I shall now for some time be very much occupied, as I am instructed, after examining Elvas, to inspect the nature of the frontier towards Spain, an occupation which is unlimited as to time.

October 5.—French march at six o’clock—1400 men.

I ride on the Estremoz road to the head of the march, and take leave of General Novellard.

Go to the fort to hunt for plans, and find that Wills has them.

October 12.—Ordered to Badajoz, and on to make a reconnaissance. Write home.

Elvas, October 12, 1808.

My Louisa—I am now in much higher mind than when I last wrote, for by far the greater part of the army on this Peninsula has been placed under Sir John Moore’s command, and is shortly to march into Spain, where the glorious, virtuous enthusiasm is the admiration of all foreigners.

We find that the Spaniards are now disposed to send to the devil all diffidence of the English, and will be delighted to receive us, and to profit by our assistance. I am just ordered a good jaunt on the frontier, to the Tagus at Alcantara, to get some local information preparatory to the passage of the army into Spain. Afterwards I am to join General Paget, at which I am much pleased.

No time to say more.—Yours,

Charles.

October 12.—Arrive at Badajoz, and the day following get half a league onwards. Meet some peasants on the road to Merida, who ask for our passports. Show them English ones from General Hope, and continue our way, but they pursue and carry Bernardo and myself back to Badajoz. I told them that an English passport was good enough, and one fellow said that it might be in England or Portugal, but not in Spain. I congratulate myself that it occurred so near Badajoz. Get a passport from D’Arcy and start again.

Six bitter long leagues to Albuquerque; thirty miles at least of most uninteresting country.

On arriving at the town I find Colbourn, who has been very near shot for a Frenchman several times, and thinks I shall be also. He was going to Salamanca to-morrow.

October 14.—Start for Salorino, scale a great wood, and find in the midst a castle. I stop here, and dine with the keeper of these woods and domains regal, and he promises to give information, and also to accompany me in finding a road passable for carriages.

He is to take me to Cantillano, but loses his way, and takes me across the mountains of Piedrabuena to Herreruela over an immense plain.

A very civil good man, and a nice little wife. He told me at parting “these were neither roads nor times to go without an escort,” and strongly pressed me to apply for one to the Alcalde.

We arrive at last at Herreruela, twenty-four miles from Albuquerque. The Alcalde is a dirty artisan.

All the town come into my room and smoke and spit and make me show them my maps.

A miserable town, and I was glad to leave my abominable host the next day and start for Alcantara, the carriage road leading us by Villa del Rey and Cartillano.

October 16.—All the people marvel at the wonders of my toilette. My comb, my brush, my tooth-brush and nail-brush, my shaving-brush and soap were all as much objects of wonder to these peasants as the comb and watch of Gulliver to the people of Lilliput.

I start from the Cam di Cartillano at eight o’clock, and arrive at Alcantara at half-past two.

The Tagus here flows between two great mountains, and the bridge is about 120 feet high.

At the house where I am billeted they are dancing the ballora—very curious. A handsome youth and lively girl, and another couple, then the old gentleman joins, others singing and playing the guitar. One pretty girl, looking half ill-natured, half—I do not know how—bewitching, sang, and I gazed and tried to find out her lover. As I sit at dinner the Alcalde (Mayor), dressed excellently with a scarlet cloak, says he is come to fetch me to his house, sends for wine, cheese, etc., and invites me to breakfast to-morrow. They all treat Bernardo as a gentleman.

Visited the bridge before dinner; go down a mountain to it, and up one from it.

October 17.—Take chocolate and biscuit with the Alcalde (Mayor) and start for Salvatierra, pass the bridge over Tagus and ascend the Estremadura mountains. Go to Zarza la Mayor, a large town on the high road to Ciudad Rodrigo, turn westward and go to Salvatierra, a small Portuguese village, and then on to Segura, a miserable place, but lodged comfortably in an old priest’s house. On the road we met a man who said, “Is that an Englishman? I’m very glad of it. I wanted to see the face of one, for they are fine fellows.” Yesterday, at Alcantara, the Alcalde, hearing me speak Italian to Bernardo, took me for an Italian. “I am an Englishman.” “Aye, aye, your passport tells me so. Yes, yes, English.”

I hope I shall get a good dinner, not having eaten since eight, when I took a thimbleful of chocolate and a biscuit. It is now six. Bernardo bought a partridge on the road, and plucked it as he rode along, saying it was to gain time. He has bought another here. Both now on the fire, besides cabbage, pork steaks, and fried eggs. The acorns of the cork trees make this country famous for pork. Bernardo a capital cook. The priest pulls a partridge to pieces with his fingers!!

October 13.—Get up at five. Arrive at Rosmaninhal and proceed to Monforte, four leagues farther, and a prettier place. Start before four o’clock for Lentiseves, and the guide, as it grows dark, declares he has lost the road, and does not know which of the two to take. We take the right, and are so long in finding the place that we are sure of being wrong. Arrive at Lentiseves by half-past six. The Judge in his hovel issues his billet and leads us to a miserable cot. I ask for a better house. There is none. Go with the horses to an excellent stable, full of wheat straw, and in the house find a good man and woman and a blazing fire, with fried eggs and bacon and a roast chicken. Sleep in the corn chamber.

October 19.—Leave Lentiseves and traverse four tiresome leagues to Villa Velha, an inconsiderable town, situated curiously on the side of a lofty mountain, traversing in range the Tagus. In winter it must roar through them properly, to be sure. There is a mine near, made by a Moorish king to get to the Queen of Portugal, where she used to grin at him from the other side.

We go over the mountainous country about two leagues and arrive at Niza. The Judge, an old fool, and the people where I am quartered in this large walled town are plaguing me a good deal, so shut up shop.

October 20.—Start from Niza at three o’clock. Arrive at Alpalhao, and on to Portalegre, sixteen miles, having passed several villages in the way. Here we meet Mr. Parr, Commissary, who tells me that General Moore is gone towards the frontier. General Hope still at Elvas; General Paget at Estremoz. General Crawford commands.

Leave Portalegre, one of the best and most beautifully situated towns of Portugal. At mid-day overtake a native of Osamar saying his “Ave Marias.” Pass a great wood, twelve miles wide, and arrive at Osamar, a pretty town. Lodge in a beastly house. A priest visits me, a gentlemanlike man, who speaks French very well. We are now twenty-eight miles from Elvas.

October 21.—Start from Osamar and ride three leagues through a wood and breakfast at Sta. Olaya. Pass through other villages and kintas and arrive at Elvas. Go to Squire’s quarters. Get letters. Dine at General Hope’s. Get a billet. Call at the Bishop’s, and sit up writing till three o’clock. Woodchafers tumble upon and bite me. Go to bed under the table.

October 22.—Get up at seven. Write and give in my report of roads. Dine with the General, and ordered to-morrow to Aliseda, via Albuquerque. Pack up.

October 24.—Start at seven on post-horses to Campo Mayor and arrive at Albuquerque at two. The Corregidor not at home. Go to the Secretary, who gives me a billet; but they won’t take me in. Another ditto; another ditto. At last I go to Corregidor’s wife to upbraid, and she, inviting me into the house when the Corregidor comes home, I get him to press three beasts for me in the morning. While at dinner I hear Bernardo frantic with rage, and on asking what was the matter, he said, “Bella cosa, the Governor has commanded this man to bring his mules to-morrow to carry sugar from Elvas for his consumption.” When the old deaf Corregidor heard it he was quite raving, danced about and stamped, his jaws toothless with age.

The man at last said he would not go without the Governor’s permission. The Alcalde said he would commit him to prison.

The fellow judged well enough, for he told the Governor that the Alcalde had bound him in twenty dollars penalty. “And I bind you,” said the Governor, “in thirty and a month’s imprisonment,” so the muleteer kept to the strongest side, which in these warlike times was the military Governor. This being the case, I saw that any trial of strength between the two Governors would inevitably keep me here until the decision, so I told Bernardo to bring me my hat and sword. “E dove dudate,” said he. “To the Governor’s,” said I, “and mind that you repeat my words to him word for word without a single addition of your own.”

So I went to the Governor, and told him that I understood he had pressed my beasts, and that if I found myself impeded in the execution of my mission I should complain direct to my General, who would carry it to the central Junta at Madrid.

The Governor then said that the Corregidor had only a divided authority, and could not press beasts without his permission. Luckily I caught the scope of what he said, and saw that the business was over, for Bernardo began to enter into the argument with much spirit, and I, with a certain amount of vehemence, desired him to interpret and not converse, which made the immense fat lady die a-laughing.

When I heard where the shoe pinched I said I had nothing to do with the disputes of Governors and Corregidors, but that these were my passports, and I was sure that a military Governor would not be behindhand with a civil one to facilitate the performance of his duty to a British officer. This had the desired effect, and the fat lady seemed delighted.

As we went away Bernardo applauded my moderation, and told me it was a plot of the ladies to draw the Englishman to their house.

October 25.—Rise and find that the muleteer had made his escape at midnight. Go to the Governor’s. “In bed.” Send up to say “that I will despatch a complaint to the General at Elvas.”

“Not his fault,” he says; “the Corregidor should have obtained his permission to impress the beasts.” I return to my Corregidor’s house, desire him to provide a man, and write a complaint to the General. While writing it the Governor’s approach is announced.

“Don Jose Gonsalaz di Madrigal.”

I attended with much interest the collision of these two dignified bodies, and it was a fine scene. They put their heads close together and vociferated their claims of superiority.

The Governor was certainly wrong, and the rage of the old Corregidor reasonable enough.

To me, however, the Governor knocked under, and told me he would punish the man for making off; so I did not report him, but got one horse from the Governor and two from the Corregidor.

The wife of the latter seemed rather to fancy me, as she begged me to return that way, and if I knocked up the horses she would indeed be angry. She tried to be handsome, but a complaint in her eyes was a most formidable adversary.

Start, and in the course of the journey tell the guide he was more stupid than his mule. “What!” says he, “did you say I was more stupid than my mule?” “Yes,” said I, and he turned away and laughed as if he could not restrain it. We arrive at four o’clock at Aliseda, six long leagues from Albuquerque.

October 26.—Leave Aliseda for Arroyo del Puerco, a large good-looking town. Return to Aliseda, and then on to Zagala upon asses.

As the sun sets we get into the park of Zagala, thinly covered with large cork trees and under-spread with smooth pasture. Here, having the best animal, I, given up to my own thoughts, insensibly ran ahead of my servant and guide, but the road turning suddenly to the right and descending to the bed of the river, reminded me of the imprudence of parting with my servants and baggage, who might take another road. I therefore pulled up in the midst of the stream, and casting my eyes upward and around, beheld one of the most beautiful nights that ever etherealised the human mind. The woods were not breathed on, all was still; the half moon rode high in heaven, frequently passed over by the light blushing clouds with which the sky was chequered. The solemnity of the scene was such as is not to be described.

I had talked some time ago with a sceptic, and been bothered with his subtilties; how did they now all fly before the sublime soarings of my spirit at this moment! Does this airy transport tend to nothing, and must this mind with such an ardent curiosity to explore the heavens, and such a celestial gratitude for the refinement it feels in itself, perish with the body? Could I have made the sceptic take my feelings as the best argument I could offer, he had been soon converted.

A sceptic should by analogy be of a sordid mind, but this man was intelligent.

Having passed the river, we soon began to ascend through a thick wood to the castle of Zagala, crowning the very summit of a rock-gnarled mount.

When we were half up the hill my donkey started at the appearance of an animal half as big again as itself, which advanced with a majestic, deliberate step, and on going close up to it I found it was a beautiful red stag that very politely came and kissed my hand—beautiful, elegant creature.

On arriving at the gate of the old mouldering castle we thundered for entrance, but for some time all was still. At length we thought we heard the steps of some one dimly sounding through the echoes of the castle, and ere long a hoarse voice demanded, “Who’s there?” “An English officer with his servant and guide.” “What do you want?” “Shelter for the night.” The steps were then heard to retire, and all was still. Soon after, they were again heard approaching, and the voice again asked, “How many are you?” “Three.” At last the grating gate was slowly opened, and we beheld a snug village within, and at the end of the street a fine-looking hall door with lamps, etc.

They took us to this house, and going upstairs the steward of the estate of Zagala, belonging to the Marquis of Portachio, received me with great cordiality and politeness. I was comforted to find a most capital house with curtains, etc., the picture of cleanliness and convenience, but how much more delighted when his most beautiful wife entered the room, with long black mantilla, brilliant rolling eyes, Roman nose, sweet mouth, jet black hair in short graceful curls upon her neck, tall, polite, retired, conversable. Could not take my eyes off her during supper, and feared the administrator would cut my throat. There was an old priest who disputed with me concerning Popery. Adventures romantic at first they told, as they had just killed a large wolf, whose skin was brought in to show us. They then took me into a nice little ante-room with a clean-looking bed, where I slept delightfully.

Surely no man can live more happily than my host. This is his castle. He is alike fearless of the wolves or thieves, for his peasants form an ample garrison and he has plenty of arms. He lives in modest luxury, a beautiful wife and fine children, what would he more? The man himself was a fine black animated Spaniard.

October 27.—Rise, and when dawn began, the view of the mountains was grand, the rocky peaks tossing their wild forms above the foggy clouds.

Start for Villa del Rey and soon arrive, as the beast provided for me was a good little animal. Go on to Campo Mayor and arrive at Elvas at four o’clock.

Find the General, and soon discover that I have left Squire’s map at Villa del Rey. Borrow twenty dollars from Colonel Ross to enable me to purchase the little horse that brought me from Villa del Rey, and pay forty-three dollars for the same.

Army entering Spain ordered to wear red cockades.

October 28.—Bernardo starts at seven o’clock for Villa del Rey to retrieve Squire’s map.

Write my report upon the Aliseda road, which I take to the General when he has dined. Confess my sins to Squire, who laughs and receives the mortifying news with good-natured philosophy.

October 29.—Breakfast with the General, who starts with his suite for Badajoz at seven. I arrive at Estremoz at eleven and General Paget in the afternoon. I begin to fret about Bernardo.

October 30.—Sunday. Breakfast at the General’s. No Bernardo. Write the General a copy of last report, and after dinner, to my great satisfaction, Bernardo is announced, for the fellow has become extremely useful to me, and I depend on his fidelity. On journeys, also, as I ride before and he behind, he entertains me exceedingly with the drollery of his anecdotes and remarks, which are extremely acute. He has withal a very good judgment, is unobtrusive, and can bear a rub. Thus, though I allow him to talk and laugh, he is not sulky when told to hold his tongue. Then his cookery and providonata is so good and his honesty undoubted, he is a perfect interpreter, and up to their manners. I was glad of his return.

October 31.—To march to-morrow to Arronches; only hear of it when I go to dinner. Get a pair of velvet overalls.

November 1.—On arriving at Arronches, seven leagues from Estremoz, find Major Gilmore, who gives me soup. Sleep in the justice house. Little Kickery[20] comes on well. Buy a blanket, of, I think, a rogue.

November 2.—Start for Albuquerque and overtake the 95th Regiment, having first passed the Spanish boundary and taken out the Portuguese cockade. On arriving at Albuquerque we find the deaf Corregidor disputing with the General’s staff in a great rage; they receive me with smiles, to the astonishment of the others, and insist on my being quartered there. At least fifty officers come in about quarters. They make no hand of the deaf Corregidor, but I explain the matter to the lady, and she soon arranges it, for she is, in fact, a very good Corregidor. Find the 20th Regiment here, and Colonel Ross quartered at the house of my friend the Governor.

November 3.—Colonel Ross comes to induce the old Corregidor to swear in the paymaster. The wife achieves it, otherwise the old man would have first inspected the regimental accounts!!

N.B.—The man who ran off with his mules before has never returned. I am badly off here now, for the great room that I had before is occupied, and I am in the family.

November 4.—Start in the morning with the 20th Regiment for Aliseda. Ready at three. No mule. Colonel Ross starts. The Corregidor in a fury. I start at four, leave the column in the dark, and take a doubtful road. Hear a dog bark, and ferret out a peasant, who rights us; but soon after we were again presque au désespoir, when a dear dog not far off began to bark. We made for the noise, holloaing, and at length a peasant rights us. It now begins to rain like the devil. Lose my way again in a great wood, but retrieve it, and arrive at Aliseda, wet and tired, at eleven o’clock. Regiment arrives at two, after a wet, painful march.

November 5.—Fine fair day, and after breakfast we leave for Brozas.

November 6.—Start again at daylight in excessive rain, and arrive at Alcantara at nine, perfectly wet. Quartered on my old friend the Alcalde (Mayor), who receives me with the greatest bon cœur. The General is quartered at the Benedictine convent, the richest order in Spain, and the Prior, who is chaplain to Charles IV., undertook to prepare dinner for the General, his baggage not having arrived. So one was rather disposed to expect something sumptuous, and at half-past four go up to the convent to dinner; dismayed to see a little tabletto with one glass and a pint of wine. For dinner there was a soup made of bread, water, beans, and salt in a flat plate, and a light leg and shoulder of goat—execrable; silver plates, and a few grapes after dinner.

Coming home we hear the Fandango playing and singing. Go to the door, which is immediately shut. Complain to the Alcalde. “Do you wish to see it?” said he quickly. “Yes.” “Vamos.” And away we went, and were now highly received among the dancing peasants. I think it exceedingly pretty, the girls seem so glorified, dizened out in all their finest costume, and preserving such a gravity of modest dignity, that awes the boors into distance and respect. They, on the contrary, with their hats on, and in all their working dirt, dance with the fair, but never touch them, both snapping their fingers all the time, and raising their heads alternately with a graceful motion. When it was over we retired to the Alcalde’s house, and entered into conversation, in the midst of which he was called out to quell a disturbance in the street. I asked what it was. “Nothing,” they said; but from the looks of the women, who wished to detain me in the house, I suspected some English were concerned, so I went out, and Bernardo followed me, and, directed by the noise to a neighbouring house, we found two English officers—Tilford and Falls—in a small room, bayed by about fifty Spaniards with swords and fixed bayonets. I was going to inquire very quietly what was the matter, and prevent mischief as skilfully as I could, when that fool Bernardo, like a horse taking fright on the brink of a precipice, darted on one of the peasants, dragging him away, and calling him all the devils in hell, and cuffing him with all his might.

This immediately, as I foresaw, raised the fury of this disorderly patrole to ungovernable bounds. They heeded neither corporal nor Alcalde. They entirely threw off all authority, and seemed prepared, with drawn daggers and swords and fixed bayonets, to take the most plenary revenge. I seized Bernardo, stamped and bawled to him to be quiet, but still the fool with his damned tongue and violent gestures inflamed them so much, that, losing all distinction, having seized him, they hemmed us in, and drove us backward into the room.

Seeing Bernardo pinioned, with a parcel of swords clashing about and twenty bayonets ready, I expected fully every instant to see him fall with fifty stabs, and pushed forward to the Spaniards, saying, “Prighonera, prighonera,” meaning that they should take him prisoner and not kill him. And perhaps this hint saved him, for they repeated, “Yes, yes, prisoners; all of you prisoners.” Just then Bernardo broke loose, and rushed to us within the room.

Immediately, with loud shouts and execrations, the mob from behind, pushing the mob in front, came tumultuously and blackly towards us, their bayonets thrusting open the door.

I entreated Falls and Tilford to be perfectly quiet and to use no gestures nor loud words, and told Bernardo, with an angry frown, he would be answerable for our lives. He seemed to have found his senses, and to see the madness of his conduct. I then went quietly up to the first rank (we were unarmed) and asked, “What do you want? To murder your friends? Are we not your friends? What do you want?”

Immediately reason seemed to strike one of them, and he pulled off his hat and said, “Yes, sir, we are friends, and we only want you to stay here until the Governor settles the dispute.”

This was breath and blue sky, and I employed the interval in conciliating them as much as possible, and, going close among them, told them we were friends come to help them, that we had the same cause, etc., and how silly it was to make ill blood owing to some foolish mistake.

Still the storm clamoured from without, and through the windows I perceived the street full of furious faces and glistening arms.

At length, however, the calm which I had obtained near me gradually pervaded the others, and we entered into quiet conversation. Still, however, they were bitter against Bernardo, and Tilford wished for the Grenadiers of the 20th, if he could get them.

In the beginning of the fray our excellent little Alcalde (Mayor) had been very active and bold, and pushed the fellows out of the room with many a crack; but when Bernardo put them in such a fury, he was fairly jostled to the outside, and could not get to us again until the calm reached him from within.

He then settled the matter by taking Tilford, against whom the offence was, into his own house. Bernardo made very handsome apologies, which were accepted with good heart, and I went home very thankful that the thing had ended as it did, and gave Mr. Bernardo very cogent hints respecting the gallant fire he had so perniciously displayed.

The cause of the foolish affair was the spite of the beastly master of the house because Tilford had come to join Falls in his billet, and he had lyingly persuaded the patrole that he had insulted his wife.

November 7.—I find that last night when Bernardo had followed me the dangerous fellow had concealed the Alcalde’s long toledo under his cloak, and made a thrust at one man, but the sword luckily only passed through his coat.

The General after breakfast complains to the assembled authorities of the town that the men are not received with sufficient friendship, and that it may have a bad effect on the minds of the soldiers. The 20th Regiment marches to Zarza, and Colonel Beckwith with the 95th marches in.

Bridge of Alcantara.

The Benedictine church is extremely fine inside; the bare stone in Gothic arches extremely grand. We view the bridge. Nothing can exceed it. Its venerable air, as well as the inscription over the triumphal arch, declare its structure of antiquity. It was built by the Emperor Trajan, and is about 150 feet high, stretching from mountain to mountain. The stones are immense, and of nearly equal size, with all the roundness of time’s rubbing. Standing on the bed of the river and catching the wild mountains through the enormous arches, it appears like the Bridge of Sin and Death striding over chaos. The piers seem to have been exceedingly well clamped, and there is a triumphal arch in the centre of the bridge. I should think it as fine and perfect a Roman relique as any that exists, and being in this country it involves a number of inferences very interesting to the antiquary and historian. I wish some of them could see it. There is a striking grandeur of rude yet elegant simplicity in this structure which must always have rendered it most imposing; but that very venerable air that the whole has acquired, from each great stone being mouldered by time, until there are wide joints between them, and the whole inexpressible shade cast over it by a thousand years, give it an impression on the mind (while the light clouds dance over the top of the arch) that is not to be described.

Alcantara, November 5, 1808.

My ever dearest Dad—The advanced division of the Army under General Paget is now moving onwards by the shortest route towards Burgos from the Alemtejo. The roads along the frontier into the north of Spain by Alcantara, Ciudad Rodrigo, etc., are so bad that all the artillery on the south side or left bank of the Tagus is moving on by the high road to Madrid. The rest will go from Lisbon to Almeida, and so on.

There has been a very irksome interval between the knowledge of our destined entry into Spain and the commencement of the march.

The rainy season appears to have commenced, but I devoutly hope that its effects will not be great before the arrival of this division at Ciudad Rodrigo, from which place I believe the roads are not liable to be broken up by bad weather.

If we get in time upon the theatre of war, the British Army has every reason to be sanguine. I believe there is no man in the Army who is not confident in Sir John Moore. He has under him as generals as fine ardent fellows as ever breathed, and I believe his particular attached friends. Then the troops are the best quality of British troops, which is as much praise as can be given. So if Buonaparte himself with 50,000 Frenchmen of his best bands will please to oppose himself to the British corps of the Allied Army, we can wish no more. I shall take care that you get a line from me as often as is possible.

I rambled a good deal about this part of the country before the division moved, and had some curious adventures. I have been fortunate enough to get an invaluable servant, who is an excellent cook, interpreter, and travelling companion, of tried fidelity and diligence, and more entertaining and conversable on the road than Sancho was with Don Quixote in the same relations and in the same country. I have completed my stud for forty guineas. Two chargers and a baggage pony make my establishment, and in these I have been so fortunate that I would spurn sixty guineas for them, and was offered twenty-five for one that cost me fifteen the other day. However, by the end of the campaign I expect I shall have taken out of them a little of their worth.

It is the greatest comfort to me to be with such a man as General Paget. I consider myself as a part of his suite, and shall be very proud if I gain the esteem of such a noble man.

This morning before we set off from Brozas it was not light, and a man was smoking a little paper cigar in the hall. The General said he should like one of all things, so I asked the man if he had one, and one ready made was produced. There was some embarrassment about which end was to be lighted, and which to be taken into the mouth, so the man seized it very readily to show him the way. I endeavoured to redeem it before it was, as I should have thought, rendered unfit for service by being in the man’s mouth, saying with impatience, “He’s going to put it in his mouth.” “No, now let him alone; never mind,” said the General. “He knows nothing about that sort of thing, you know, and I’d rather do that than offend a fellow.”

It was said in such a natural, quiet, unaffected way as to be quite delightful.

Do let me hear often. I received a letter from dearest Mamsey, which gave me great delight. That Mr. Leckie is a very clever, but rather wild gentleman, who treated me very hospitably at Syracuse. I liked him very much. My friend Lefebure, to my great delight, is in Spain, most creditably employed as a missionary on affairs of very particular importance. The higher his employment is, the more I am sure his energetic mind will do him credit. I have had a very long communicative letter from him. I find he has applied to Lord Chatham for me, among a few others, to assist him in his occupation. I shall send this to headquarters by one of General Paget’s staff, who happens to be going, and hope that it will tell you very soon that I am well and happy.—With greatest love, ever, dearest Dad,

Charles.

November 8.—Start at nine o’clock for Zarza, and arrive about two.

My host is a Spanish gentleman, very civil, and the lady apologises for giving me a tin wash-hand basin, as all the silver ones are buried in the woods on account of the French.

Wait three hours for dinner, and at eight o’clock in comes cold meat.

November 9.—Get up at half-past four to start for Perales.

Shall be glad when we get to Ciudad Rodrigo and emerge from this miserable part of Spain.

We pass remarkable ridges of mountains and Moorish castles, also through great woods and watery tracts, but no towns, houses, or human beings. Perales six leagues from Zarza.

November 10.—Rise at four; very dark. Straw makes a good torch. The guide of the 20th Regiment takes them the wrong road. Error soon discovered. Violent rain.

General starts without a guide. I return for one, and by threats get an old postillion. The road by the Puerte desalto de Perales goes marvellously over the very summit of an exceeding high mountain, excessively steep, and much injured by great rain. Looking back, while climbing, I find the view most extensive and well wooded, half obscured by a heavy cloud, whose watery skirts, as they lift, reveal more and more of the landscape; then looking forward, I see a convent resting in a bunch of rare trees on the bosom of the mountain.

Here was formed a vast abrupt vale, in which better than ever before I could observe the system of waters as they sever the mountains. Many little runs joining, form a larger one, many of these again join, and amass a larger course, which forms a ravine; these ravines, falling into the same bottom, wear a torrent, these torrents brooks, and brooks rivers, and rivers a great river. All this lay with the most interesting development before the eye; but soon, ascending higher, I reached the clouds, and could see nothing but a circle of two yards round me, the bleak, rocky, wretched road, with a black hill on one side, and a precipice on the other, both lost in the impenetrable clouds, and what one could see of them covered with the stumps of heath, which, having been burnt, were quite black, and this, added to the excessive cold, made me feel as if I were travelling on the bare outside of the world, bordered by the chaotic beginning of things.

Soon after, without descending much, one enters a vast oak wood, which continues even to Penaparda, a miserable village. Wait with the postillion at the Alcalde’s house. The General arrives an hour afterwards. Proceed to Gainaldo, a noble city compared to Penaparda. Get good billets, and a happy family by a kitchen fire make me a welcome guest. Go to bed betimes.

November 11.—Gainaldo; halt to-day. This place is two leagues from Penaparda, six from Perales. The happy family now sitting at dinner before me by a good fire. Three fine brats have a little table and a little pot of porridge apiece. There is besides a beautiful omelet. The man and his wife and mother at another table.

The right wing of the 20th Regiment marches into the town. Ride my pony, restivissimo! Sentence him to an immediate hard gallop, and further to carry his master to Ciudad Rodrigo to-morrow.

November 12.—Breakfast at five; start at seven, I on my pony, which starts very docilely to-day. The ground about this place is open and cultivated. Slight hills and enclosures. Part of the ride put me in mind of that part of the walk to Ollerton where there is a sandy hollow and a steep bit of the road. Fine morning, but the huge mountains threaten rain, which attacks us a short league from Ciudad Rodrigo, with sufficient spirit to wet us through completely. On our arrival we meet some officers of the 50th and 28th, and Colonel Ronch conducts the General to his quarters.

I get to a priest’s house, who makes a good palaver; but on seeing my little dungeon-room I sink under the weight of my afflictions. So after taking a glass of Malaga I sally forth, and get an excellent billet with a watchmaker. I intend to tell the priest that I am very fond of him, but detest his apartments.

Sir John Moore left this morning, without baggage, for Salamanca.

November 13.—Read papers, and see a great many old acquaintances, and on returning to the house find Engineers’ horses at my door—Fletcher, Burgoyne, and Mulcaster. We call on General Paget, who asks us all to dinner.

Ciudad Rodrigo, a walled handsome town, standing on the river Agueda, which runs beneath.

November 15.—Go on miserable beasts, with Stewart, to Almeida, within six leagues of this place, and arrive at dark, getting horrid dirty billets.

November 16.—In the morning I go with Wilmot round the hexagonal works of Almeida, and also to Fort Conception. The angles of the flank and the ravelin of one front blown up by the French.

Return to Ciudad Rodrigo and desired to report on the place.

November 17.—Get up at six and start on “Blacky” to examine. Try to ford the river, and fail in several attempts. At last he and I part company; he runs home on one side, and I on the other. Walk the rest, and write my report.

Ordered to set out to-morrow for Salamanca.

November 18.—Start at eight, and en route get a volunteer guide for Cuba de Sancho, who runs amazingly fast and long. On arrival get comfortably lodged, and start at dawn for Salamanca, which we reach by five o’clock, being in all eleven leagues.

Here meet Mr. Fletcher, Mulcaster, and Foster, who tell us that the French had pushed on cavalry to Valladolid, and also that an order has been given to the troops at Salamanca to prepare to march at the shortest notice.

November 20, Sunday.—Breakfast with General Paget and write out report upon last roads.

Salamanca merits particular notice and attention. The church magnificent, and the door of the cathedral the richest, most superb thing I ever saw.

November 29.—Anxiety prevails about the Allies, and I receive orders late in the day to accompany Colonel Offeney on an excursion.

November 30.—We start at six, and after passing Tormerellas meet a sickly-looking man on horseback, whom we stop. He appears a good deal frightened, and confesses to have conducted thirty dragoons to Pedroso. He also delivers up certain papers—a requisition for 50,000 rations of bread and 10,000 of forage; a paper from Besseares to the Spanish people; and another, a bulletin from the grand army, announcing the total defeat of Castanos, which, added to that of Blake and La Romano, left nothing of a Spanish army but a small corps in the rear of the enemy under Palafax. Send this fellow with his papers to headquarters.

Start again, and having learned that the enemy had abandoned Pedroso, proceed thither, and find they had left the town two hours before our arrival. It was thought they had merely withdrawn into a wood a mile beyond, into which it was not deemed prudent to penetrate.

It appeared they had come for information, asking after us; and hearing that we had 24,000 in Salamanca, they said, “It was nothing; they had 40,000, and would soon settle us.”

December 1.—Enter the wood with some precaution, and strike off to the left, crossing the stagnant Guareña to some houses, and are induced to believe that the French have gone back to Fresno.

Strike to the right to Villa Fuente, a short league distant. Then return to Pitiegua, and sleep at the house of the excellent curé, having made a hideous dinner upon nothing.

December 2.—Start for Mollorido, a mill on the road to Valladolid, and the next day receive intelligence that 10,000 infantry and 2000 cavalry have marched towards Segovia.

Go again to Tarazona, and meet on the edge of the wood the servant of the Bishop of Coimbra on his way home from Bourdeaux. The Bishop was one of the Portuguese grandees sent as hostages to France, and the servant had been to visit him. He told us that he had both seen and spoken to Napoleon at Burgos, and that he was now at Aranda on his way to Madrid, to which the whole attention of the French seemed now turned, in consequence of the defeat or rout of Castanos.

We send this man with a dragoon to headquarters, and proceed to Mollorido, where we meet some people who advise us of a Don living at Tarazona, a village half a league to the left. Go there, and find Don Jose Mental, who had fled from Rosseda, and here he was in his own farmhouse. We endeavoured to make him a sort of master intelligencer. He promised much, but is actually no great shakes. Leaving him, we return by the sedgy banks of the wild poolly Guareña. I rode ahead with the guide, and whenever we came to a pool he gave a shuddering look thereon, and looking at me and shaking his head, said it was a terrible place, and whoever went in never came out again. This was his impression, as he could not swim, and had probably never been immersed in his life; to me it was no more than a deep pool.

December 4, Sunday.—General Alton calls, and we ride with him to Bahel Fuenta via Villa Ruella.

Set out on return journey, not knowing the road. The guide says he is sure that the wrong road is the right one. We take the wrong, and wander a long, long time in a heavy impenetrable fog, not seeing three feet before us. At length we shoot into a flock of sheep, and I, thinking there must be a shepherd, begin to whistle as hard as I can; and soon, to my great joy, I behold three upright forms advancing towards me, and make one of them put us on the right road for Pitiegua. We had gone more than our distance, and were still five miles off.

December 6.—Take a walk with the curate. He asks me about my birth, parentage, and education, and finding I had a mother, he says, “Ah, how often does she say to herself, ‘Oh, if he should be dead, my dear child!’” This throws me into the blue devils.

December 7.—Yesterday General Alton intercepted the imperial mail from Burgos to Madrid. It was carried by a Spanish courier, and guarded by two French officers and a French courier. The party was attacked by about twenty peasants a few leagues from Burgos. One French officer and the French courier were killed. The other Frenchman made his escape, and the Spanish courier set off full speed for the English outposts. The mail had many letters for Napoleon and his dukes and nobles.

To-day we set out for Tarazona, but on meeting some people from Cantalapiedra, they tell us such a parcel of stuff that we determine to go there.

We reach Cantalapiedra, five leagues off, and ask for news. A priest, coming up, asks, “Do they seek for news here?” “Yes.” “Oh,” he says, “the Emperor of Russia has sent his ambassador to Buonaparte to Madrid, to say that unless he desists from his projects against Spain, the Muscovite will declare against him.”

The Marquis Goraze is here in retirement. He is the intendente of Burgos, and made his escape. The people point to an equipage just arriving. ’Tis the Marchioness, drawn in a dung-cart, her daughters and women preceding her on donkeys, and the Marquis himself bringing up the rear.

After a most beautiful sunbright day and clear night there advances suddenly from the north (between Pedroso and Pitiegua) an overwhelming cloud resting on the earth. I kept before it some time, and could see far before me (though it was night), but behind me not an inch, till at last, meeting a man and talking with him a moment, it got ahead, and I found myself in the thickest pudding of a night, and was obliged to grope my way to Pitiegua.

December 8.—Stay indoors and determine on what to be done.

December 9–11.—Ride north, reconnoitre, make maps and plans.

Frost and excessive cold. Get a letter from Burgoyne,[21] dated Salamanca, about my coat. He tells me that General Hope is with them at Alba, and that the French have attacked Madrid in force, and are reported to be repulsed with loss. Also that Napoleon has declared in Paris—“I am now going at the head of 200,000 men to place a prince of my own family on the throne of Spain, after which I shall proceed to plant the Imperial eagles on the walls of Lisbon.”

Napoleon has been at Aranda de Duero some time.

December 14.—Start for headquarters, and find that General Stewart has surprised a valuable convoy of cotton in some town on the Douro, taking thirty-seven prisoners, fine-looking fellows.

Colonel Murray tells me I shall find General Paget at Toro, and that Captain Campbell is going thither. Arrive at Toro. General Paget not there, and I get put up at his old quarters, and am informed that an officer had murdered his landlord, and immediately after, there enters a man with his head all bloody, and people screaming.

My first object was, and always is, with the Spaniards, to make them cease their storm, and then I can redress or excuse their wrongs and talk reason to them. For the passion of the Spaniard rises at the sound of his own voice; he hears it reciting in an angry tone, and his grievances mount to sudden fury and chide the tardy execution of revenge. I take the man to General Beresford.

Noises and knockings at the door all night.

December 15.—In the morning an old woman enters and gives a most humorous description of the night’s disturbances.

Start with Captain Bayley for Tiedra, and there find General Paget, who had arrived with the Reserve.

December 17.—Hard frost, march to Villalpando. Met by the people with enthusiastic exclamations.

The Generals have a confab, Sir D. Baird having joined.

December 18.—Sunday. I am desired to plan the place.

December 19.—Advance to Valderas and make a sketch. The cavalry pass the bridge, and while on the bank, under-run by the river Cea, I was almost blown away and benumbed by the violence of the wind.

Sir John dines with General Paget,—and Battle is the word!!

[The Journal here is omitted from 19th December to 24th December, the details of the campaign being more clearly related in the letter to his father, dated 24th December.]

Grajal,[22] December 24, 1808.

My ever dearest Father—I see so many foolish letters in the papers respecting the operations of armies and the faults or merits of Generals, that however naturally I might be inclined to chat with you and give you in narrative my ideas of our movements, made and required, I have, I believe, pretty generally refrained from entering into the subject more than in a general cursory manner. The enemy was in force at Saldana, and extended to other towns on the river Carrion, which runs from the Asturias through Leon into the Douro. It was determined to beat him here if he would wait, and accordingly by a mutual flank movement right and left, a junction having been formed with Sir David Baird, the whole army advanced towards the Carrion without losing time, taking up at the end of each day’s march such lines of cantonment as were the most secure that the situation of the towns and villages would admit of, keeping the cavalry in our front, then the Reserve, behind which, in three divisions, was the main army, having its flanks covered by the cavalry and flank corps of light troops.

As in the advance our patroles fell in with those of the enemy, that superior valour of which the English are so conscious, and which is conspicuous in all descriptions of English warriors in their battles with the enemy, was very strongly and repeatedly displayed by our Hussars. Lord Paget having gained information that 700 of the enemy’s cavalry were at Sahagun, conceived it possible to take them by surprise. He therefore moved at midnight with the 10th and 15th. He divided these regiments at a suitable spot, and directing the 10th to move direct into Sahagun, so as to arrive at a stated time, he himself advanced by another road with the 15th, so as to turn the town and prevent the escape of the enemy.

This plan, wise as it was, was frustrated by a neighbouring picquet of the enemy, having been attacked in the first instance, perhaps not wisely, for though some were taken, some (as might be expected at night) got off, and put the others on the qui vive, in consequence of which Lord Paget, advancing towards the place with the 15th in a column of division, found the enemy drawn up in line to receive him. He was thus with 400 opposed to 700, and according to all military rules, in a devil of a scrape. His Lordship, however, forming them into line, immediately led them on to the charge. The French are said at first to have stood like a wall and received the enemy with front give point. The impetuosity of the charge broke them, however, and much single-handed work ensuing, the final result was I don’t know how many killed, and 140 taken prisoners, besides which 2 lieutenant-colonels and 20 officers, one of the former being nephew to Josephine and aide-de-camp to King Joseph. The 10th came up too late to make the result of this affair more brilliant.

Brigadier-General Stewart with the 18th, both before and since this affair, has been in several instances proportionately dashing and successful, and latterly 30 of the 18th attacked 100 of the enemy’s cavalry, killed 20, and took 6 alive.

Our loss has been so trifling that I forgot to give it due place; it does not exceed 3 killed and 6 wounded in all—that is, seriously wounded, and these wounds have evinced (sufficiently, I hope) that the muff Hussar cap is no defence to the head, all the wounds being in consequence of their non-resistance, while our fellows hacked at the brass casques of the enemy in vain. As it was found that the chief body of the enemy under Marshal Soult, Duke of Dalmatia, was at Saldana, behind the Carrion, it was resolved to cross this river at the bridge of Carrion, five leagues distant, and to march upon Saldana with the left flank upon the river. Arrangements were accordingly made, in pursuance of which the Reserve under General Paget moved from this place at six o’clock yesterday evening, and was to take its place with respect to the rest of the army at a given time.

The bridge of Carrion was to be forced at daylight, and a subsequent battle was fully expected and ardently desired by all ranks of the army, from Sir John Moore to the junior drummer—at least so I believe, and spite of the severe frost and night cold, with snow upon the ground, the spirits of the troops beat high; they enjoyed the night march, for they thought that at last they had caught this “Duke of Damnation,” whom they believed they had been running after from the neighbourhood of Lisbon. No men, they think, did ever go so fast, for they never saw anything of them, and almost despaired of coming up with them.

The Reserve had moved about four miles when an officer met General Paget, and the division was marched back to Grajal, its former cantonment. This is all I know. I suppose the enemy was found to have bolted, and that it will not do for us to play with them in the middle of this continent.

I therefore think that we shall get away as soon as we can. I think our Chief very wise, very brave, and very disinterested.—God bless you,

Charles.

December 24, Sunday.—March to headquarters at Mayorga. Make a sketch. A dragoon officer of the 10th begs to be let into our billet. I cannot say no. His horse kicks Lutgins’, who rows me like blazes for letting the dragoon in.

December 27.—Ammunition waggons without number, and the tag, rag, and bobtail of all the other divisions here fall to the convoy of General Paget, a tremendous string, which makes the Reserve a baggage guard. He executes this with patience, mastery, and accomplishment. Guns being posted so as to rake the road.

We get no billets at Benavente, but Lutgins perseveres and gets an excellent one, and Lord Paget and Colonel V. dine with us.

December 28.—At ten o’clock Lutgins and I, sitting at breakfast, hear a row in the streets. Ask what is the matter. “Turn out, sir, directly! The French are in the town.” Oh what confusion, what screaming and hooting and running and shoving and splashing and dashing! My sword, spurs, and sash mislaid. Olla! Mount my horse and ride to General Paget’s quarters. Find him just sallying forth. He at once takes up his ground and gets his people under arms. False alarm. Nobody knows the cause of the row, but the people of the house had fled in despair. Unhappy people! Such are the miseries of war, that the unoffending inhabitants, despoiled of the sanctity of their homes, find every social tie jagged to the root, and then enters cold, desponding indifference.

Ride to the bridge, where preparations are making to destroy the same. A very wet, cold night. I am sent with a message to Sir John Moore, and ride back again through devilish rain and numbing wind. A party of the enemy’s cavalry come to reconnoitre this operation, and exchange a few shots with our pickets. All the people having withdrawn, the houses on the other side the bridge and piles of timber are set on fire, and make a most superb and interesting appearance in spite of the inclemency of the night; the mounting blaze, bursting through the crackling roofs, glares sunlike upon the opposite promontories and sub-current waters. The teeth of the cursed saws refuse to do their duties, and hours are spent in sawing the woodwork. I leave the business at 5 A.M.

December 29.—Get to bed at six o’clock, wet, cold, and shivered to death. The Reserve marches at eight. The bridge having blown up, the enemy’s cavalry in one part swim, and in another ford the river, and fall in with our pickets under General Stewart. The enemy 500, we 300. A great deal of sharp fighting ensues, in which the enemy are worsted, and seeing other bodies of cavalry coming on them, disperse and re-swim the river with loss both in drowned and killed; but the ground was so excessively heavy that our horses were blown, or their destruction would have been complete.

I post myself on a hill with Captain Eveleigh’s troop of horse artillery, and see a large body of cavalry advance towards us from a neighbouring village. We make all dispositions to receive them well, and they appear to design to take our cavalry in flank, edging off towards the river. When they come within reach, and Captain E. is just going to give them a round shot, we find them to be the 15th Dragoons!

Ride to the river, where the enemy attempt to form again on the other side and fire at our videttes with their carbines; but the horse artillery soon come up, and give them a few shrapnels, which disperse them and send them up the hill. Result (of the whole engagement) about twenty on each side killed and many badly wounded, about twenty French prisoners of the Imperial Guards, their General, Colonel of the 2nd Imperial Guards, and several officers.

I go on the bridge to see the effect of the explosion, which was complete, then ride in again, and on towards Baneza. Overtake Captain Griffiths, and converse much with him. Get pretty well put up with Lutgins, but the Scotch make inroads upon us.

December 30.—Cavalry arrive at Baneza. Start for Astorga (four leagues). The town excessively full and stinking.

On the road talk with French officers. They say that the Spaniards never fought at all, and that Buonaparte must have been looking at the action yesterday from the heights on the other side the river.

I and Gos billet together and receive orders from headquarters. Major F. Gos and Mul.[23] ordered one way, myself and Foster another.

This night tramp about the town to Q.M.G.’s and C.G.’s, etc., and am franticated about guides.