Lisbon, September 20th, 1812.—I have now been three days in this town, which resembles the description of certain ladies whom I have a right to suppose to be within your knowledge, for I think they are described in the Bible, and in other good books which you study—all outside show, except in the state apartments of a few individuals, which are certainly very magnificent. Streets very offensive, palaces by the side of ruins, and sometimes even the palaces in a state of partial decay, though in other parts stately and magnificent in their architectural proportions. Everywhere there is an aspect of extreme poverty side by side with some showy indications of wealth; and it is evident that among the lower classes impostors are as plentiful as mosquitos. The heat is extreme—worse than I found it at Paris in August 1802. The evenings, however, are cool, and near the water the breezes are refreshing. They congratulate me, indeed, on the comparative mildness of the season, which is favourable for my journey to head-quarters, which are at Dulmas, in advance of Valladolid.
On landing, I proceeded immediately to General Peacock, the commanding officer, who received me with great civility, and I dined with him that day. As to forwarding me to the army, it appears all that he can do is to give me a route, which will procure me at different stations (though at times two or three days distant from each other), rations for bread and forage, as there are depôts at intervals of from one to three days’ journey all the way. I shall have to purchase two mules and two horses. The price of horses is high; on an average, two hundred and twenty dollars each. Captain C——, of the staff here, has offered to go to the fair with me on Tuesday to buy cattle and all other necessaries for my journey. There is no route except by Ciudad Rodrigo, and, therefore, though it is said that head-quarters may be at Madrid before my arrival, I shall be compelled to go that way. Baron Quintilla was not in town. The Envoy asked me to dinner immediately to his country-house at Benefica, and was extremely civil to me, remarking that mine was not a common letter of introduction. He asked me again yesterday, but being unwell, I declined the flattering invitation. He also offered to carry me in his suite to a bull-fight, twelve miles off; but as this would detain me from Sunday to Tuesday, and interfere with my whole plan, I am obliged reluctantly to forego the amusement. I am not here for my pleasure. When I arrived at the Envoy’s he was absent, and I had a tête-à-tête with General Abadia, who is here on his way to Cadiz, where he is to take a high official position. He appeared a clever man, but I understand his loyalty to Ferdinand is doubtful, for a letter addressed to him by his wife, who is with the French, inquiring when he would fulfil his promise of joining their party, has been intercepted.
This may be all a trick, but there is something suspicious about it. He blamed us very much, charging us with having made two great blunders, in not seizing Santona, by troops from England, and securing that river communication and post to land all our men in, instead of Lisbon; and also in not allowing the Sicilian expedition to seize Tortosa, and maintain a post on that river, the most important and most annoying to Soult. He spoke in high terms of Lord Wellington, but seemed to think that the fate of Europe depends upon the conduct of Russia in this conjuncture.
The idea seems now to be, that Soult, Suchet, and Joseph have formed a junction. They have above sixty thousand effective men; and it is added, that the French now have their old position on the Ebro always in their power. General Carrier was brought in here a prisoner on Thursday, from Salamanca: he had five wounds, which are nearly healed, but he thought he should lose a finger. He came in to the General whilst I dined there. He seemed to be out of spirits, but said that Marmont was nearly well, and would resume his command. The French, I hear, are intrenched near Burgos.
I have obtained quarters at the casa of the Marquesa d’Abrantes, a good situation, and a lieutenant-colonel’s quarters. Her husband is a prisoner in France. I have a separate door, which leads away to four small rooms to the street; bare walls, painted with military trophies, and the whole kept as quarters. In these I have two tables, a dozen chairs, a bedstead, a mattress, a worked flounced quilt, some fine sheets, but, of course, no blankets. At first we had nothing else; but I have now got a silver basin and ewer, some knives and forks, and a supply of water. These apartments might easily be made very comfortable. The state rooms of this house, looking over about an acre of garden (which is open to the public), are very handsome. As the marquesa lost her mother last week, about twenty cabriolets a-day have brought visitors to pay respects, &c., and about a hundred and fifty beggars to receive their alms. By the way, the English have caused everything here to become very dear. The churches are gaudy, and in some respects not a little ridiculous, but still, to my mind, nothing like so trumpery, absurd, and indeed indecorous in every respect as those in Flanders, and in some parts of Switzerland and Piedmont. The Roman Catholics here certainly have the appearance of devotion, and seem more in earnest, much more so than in France, and more so than in any country I have seen.
Lisbon, September 23rd, 1812.—I was at the fair, in the heat of the sun, all yesterday, and have bought two small mules, one small horse, and have agreed for another, a small pony, to carry me. The fair has knocked me up as well as my man Henry. I have been all this day with Captain C——, almost my only friend here, at market, bargaining for travelling necessaries. Commissary P—— will lend me one public mule; so now I hope I am equipped as far as that goes. The General offers to send me with the next treasure, which goes nobody knows when; but refuses me two soldiers to go with me, though it is said that it is really dangerous to go without them.
Lisbon, September 26th, 1812, Saturday.—Though in a constant fever from fleas and mosquitos, we should have started yesterday with some treasure, but my servant Henry could not stir, and my Portuguese servant took himself off at eight in the morning. I have now got a German deserter as servant instead of the Portuguese; and trust he will not carry on the old game, and desert with my baggage. He is said to speak a little English and Portuguese, and know the country well.
Sunday.—For one day more I have postponed my journey, intending to start with some treasure and two officers on Tuesday. The Opera-house here is a dull, heavy building, about the size of the Haymarket Opera-house; but the dancing more like Sadler’s Wells than the Opera in England: great activity and force in the buffo style like comic masks—this appears to be the favourite style here. Macbeth was turned into a pantomine; the death and dagger scene very fine, but the whole effect marred by the mummery of fantastic dancing and skipping witches. I have not had time to see any thing except Lisbon, and the aqueduct: the latter work certainly fine, but not of an attractive shape. Round arches would have had a better effect, and the piers want evenness and regularity; nevertheless it is a work worthy of the Romans. I contrived to-day to go to Belem church, a very fine specimen of arabesque, the best thing I have seen here; in style it is between the Saxon and Antique, with a little Gothic intermixed, the ornaments beautiful and in high preservation.
Abrantes, October 6th, 1812.—A day’s halt here enables me to write to you. I left Lisbon on the 30th September, by two o’clock, with my sick party, and thence eight miles to Saccavem in about three hours. The road to Saccavem and nearly to Villa Franca is fine; and, except that there are no trees besides olive-trees, which appear like apple-trees at a distance, and no verdure, the river and country are picturesque.
On the second night we reached Villa Franca, sixteen miles; the third night, Agembiga twelve; the fourth, Santarem sixteen. The positions and accounts in our gazettes made this route interesting, but the road itself is dull and sandy. Suppose a few olive-trees and firs on Bagshot Heath, and you have the scene. Saccavem and Santarem are both fine positions for appearance, and the latter for defence. All the towns are half in ruins, as well as almost all the single houses on the road to this place. On the fifth day we reached Galegao, sixteen miles; on the sixth, Punhete, twelve miles; on the seventh, Abrantes, eight miles. I am now eighty-eight miles from Lisbon. From Galegao to Abrantes the road runs near the river, the verdure increases, there are a few chestnut, oranges, and larger firs, and in the spring the scenery must be very picturesque. Abrantes, on a commanding eminence, is in a very fine situation, and looks over much fine country. Finding my sick men unequal to the fatigue, I applied to the officer of the treasure, and got a soldier, a fine active Tyrolese, who does more work in an hour than my poor creatures in a day. He cleans down the animals, waters them, loads, &c., and as I carry his baggage for him, and give him rather better fare, he seems to be very well pleased with the post. He leads a mule on the road, walking at his ease: by this means I now get off about six o’clock every morning.