The loss of men and money in Spain, I think, are amply compensated for by the acquisition of military fame, but the loss of Sir John Moore at such a time admits of no consolation.
Bath, January 28, 1809.
Dearest Mother—The press on the road, the waters, etc., have made me travel slower, but I set off for London to-morrow, whence you shall hear from me.
We are three Engineers here together, one of whom is my friend Lefebure, the pleasantest and right-thinkingest man in the world. The people here show distinction to our rusty habits, particularly the fair sex, who advance to converse with us, to the astonishment of the well-dressed beaux.
I hope soon to embrace you and my Louisa, and all of you. God bless you, dear people.
Charles.
On returning home after the glorious battle of Corunna, which terminated Moore’s celebrated retreat and his life together, I conceived a thorough dislike and hatred of the military service. My patron was dead, and as a reward for services which I thought inestimable, his memory was reviled by his ungrateful countrymen, and tarnished by crafty, self-interested politicians, who, willing to wound, but yet afraid to strike, took the most impalpable means of offending his sacred memory.
Major Boothby, 51st Regiment.
Afterwards Sir William Boothby, Bart.