A public garden, which, though sheltered and well kept, is small, formal, and uninteresting; and one theatre, which, though formerly supplied with the first Italian performers, would not be admired at a provincial town in England. The equipages, although of course diminished in number, absolutely surprise by their barbarity; a clumsy little body, seated upon two huge leathern straps, enormous wheels, and two noble mules, is the only thing to be seen in the shape of a carriage; and from the melancholy relics of the Court, which I had an opportunity of observing, I should doubt if it ever exhibited any elegance or splendour.
The streets are not only (even in this burning weather) covered with dry filth and squalid rags, but are lined with naked beggars and disgusting cripples, who bare and often augment their deformities and afflictions to arouse the dormant compassion of the rich.
But however laughable, it is really dreadful to walk in these streets by night, for your foot slides about in soft things, and the whizzing over head and the splash! splash! splash! that assails your ears make you expect to be covered with refuse every moment, for the city is not lighted at all—a circumstance which must have been formerly as favourable to assassination as it is now to these nightly discharges.
If in the night it is to the last degree shocking to walk the streets of Lisbon, it is not very agreeable during the day. The inequality of the ground fatigues, the importunity of the beggars plagues, and the filth of the streets offends you, while nothing remarkable to the right or left diverts the peevishness of disgust or rewards the diligence of curiosity. There are no hotels, nor inns, at least that can serve a decent man.
I cannot leave Lisbon without noticing the Aqueduct, which is one of the most stupendous and striking structures I ever beheld. It stretches right across a deep valley, and without attempting to recollect its dimensions or to speak accurately on the subject, the impression it has left with me is that a First-rate, with royals and studding-sails set, could pass through the principal arch without touching in any part. To stand under this arch is almost stupefying, and the gigantic size of the whole is well illustrated by some houses close to it.
Residence in Lisbon
April 1809.—As my stay is remembered with indifference, it was not marked by any high degree of satisfaction. Although I did not pretend to form a deliberate opinion upon the affairs of the Peninsula, yet my involuntary belief was that there would be no campaign.
I considered Sir John Moore’s retreat as a lesson likely to teach caution to the British Government, and that they would not now venture to stake the flower of her army on the fate of Spain against the wishes of the nation, seeing that they could hardly answer for having done so when the popular voice was loud in their favour. I thought that unless the Spaniards themselves demonstrated that, in a military light, they could balance their enemies, and were capable in the line of operations of supporting their character as the main army, (which hitherto they had plainly shown they could not do), any further assistance of British troops would be firmly withheld.
The character of the Commander-in-Chief at that time confirmed me in this opinion respecting the intentions of the Government. Because he was not a man of known military talents, and it was likely enough that, since the employment of General Whitelock, Sir Henry Dalrymple, and Sir Harry Burrard, the favourite principle with our latter statesmen—“that experience and reputation are not required in a fully instructed General”—had been abandoned.
As I considered the kingdom of Portugal incapable of defence, except by an army nearly equal to the offensive one, so I felt assured that when the crisis of its fate arrived, a British army that sought to protect it would “stand alone.”