I was off as soon after sunrise as possible to pass the ferry before the military chest. I got down to the bank and found about eighty cars drawn up to pass with ammunition, boards, planks, and beams, for the repair of bridges, &c. Two at a time crossed in one boat; and there was another for mules, &c. I stopped some Portuguese; and having waited an hour for the baggage, who had loitered on the road when I left them, we at last got on board this platform as close as we could stick.—Mr. Hunter, and six other gentlemen, about a dozen servants, seven stallions, three mares, and six loaded baggage mules. After some kicking and confusion, we landed safely, and after a league of ascent arrived at Torre de Moncorvo. Both banks of the river were covered on the sides of the road with parties of artillery or baggage grazing, &c.; some bivouacking, and others in camp. The scene was interesting, except that I regretted the obligation of cutting so much of the corn for green forage just as it was becoming ripe.
Here we found the same scene in all the environs; parties picketed and bivouacking, and more artillery drivers; quarters very moderate; but shops very decent; the town not destroyed, for the French have never been here.
The great number of troops which have been quartered here on the march has cleared most of the shops, and injured many of the buildings; even here we cannot buy anything except honey, sugar, bacon, bread, and cheese. The convent of Franciscans above the town is nearly entire, and has two tolerable pictures—the altarpiece, and one in the refectory, by Romano, the monks said, and from the style it may be so. There are some houses here with the furniture remaining; that of the Capitan Mor (the head inhabitant, and a colonel of militia) has painted coved ceilings, and apricot-coloured silk hangings, with old-fashioned wooden chairs and sofas, with bottoms to match the hangings. The church also is handsome. The town is surrounded by hills like Bath, and yet we ascended to it three miles from the Douro. I saw also something like a female to-day, a smart, pretty Lisbon miss going to church—quite a curiosity; and so, I believe, the inhabitants think. My old patrona (or landlady) here came to tell me to look out of the window, as “The Lady” was going by.
Head-Quarters, Civil Department, Villa Dalla, May 29th, 1813.—On the 27th, the night before I marched from Torre de Moncorvo, we had some heavy rain, which cooled the air, laid the dust, and made our journey onwards much more agreeable.
On the 28th, the road to Lagouça was very rough and hilly, and the distance four long leagues. The country is fine; the distance very like parts of Somersetshire and Devonshire in its general features, but the valleys are less rich, and there are some large pine-woods on the hills. About half way we passed Carvacies, a large village; and at the end of four leagues, Tornas, a poor place, where we had the option of stopping, but preferred Lagouça. A part of the staff corps were encamped near the pine-wood, with several cars and materials for bridges. They are, I understand, about to lay down a bridge somewhere on the Douro, very near that part, as a safe retreat in case of accidents.
At Lagouça I got a tolerable quarter, and bed, at the padre’s. House dirty only. I found books which he could not understand, and I believe never looked at. There was the ‘Recopilacion of the Spanish Laws,’ a book of authority in Spain. He asked me if it was mine—the authority I acted from; had I known how to carry it I would have bargained with him for it. There was also a Horace, Bourdaloue’s Sermons in Spanish, and a few other sermons. He gave me some wine, and was very civil; and honestly sent after me something that I left behind.
Within a mile of Lagouça, but out of the main road, you look down on the Douro, which runs down in a deep rocky chasm, very fine and wild, with a very picturesque convent, which was once Mas Bonito, half way down on the Spanish side of the river, and the Spanish town of Miesa above. The French had long been at these places, and had much injured the convent; but had never got over, as there is only one little bark; and the brave Portuguese had a sort of battery. The scene was very fine.
To-day (the 29th) I started again after breakfast (but before six o’clock, being always called at four) for this place. The road was in general good, though rather hilly and in parts boggy. We passed to the left of Brosa; to the right of Majaduero, and near two or three other villages. The country is finer, and still more approaching Somersetshire. I have here, at Villa Dalla, got a decent quarter in a great farm-house, where there are five or six beds about my room, which has, however, only a door, no window or ceiling. In winter I should have been starved; it is now well enough. I got a table and chairs, and have bought one small fowl for a dollar, and two little chickens, nearly as big as pigeons, all bone, for half a dollar. We get eggs, and sometimes milk; and though this country has never seen the French, the houses do not seem quite in a state of English repair. The whole road is covered with marks of the encampments of troops, &c. The back of the village Lagouça was just like a drawing of an Otaheite village, and not much better, with bad thatch instead of tile, the general roof. The villages, however, are numerous, and much more populous than in the other parts of Portugal I have seen, and rather cleaner, being nearer Spain. There was bread from Zamora in the market at Lagouça regularly for sale.
Miranda de Duero, May 30th.—I came on here to-day a very long journey, meaning to have two days’ rest, but found Lord Wellington’s head-quarters had passed through here this morning; that his lordship left Salamanca yesterday, and was to be six leagues off in advance, near the Esla, to-day, the 30th. The French absolutely ran away, near Salamanca, and a small party were taken. Spanish head-quarters here to-day, and all in confusion.
Head-Quarters, Toro, June 3rd, 1813.—A day’s halt will enable me to give you a few lines to let you know how we go on. The day I sent my last from Miranda de Duero (May 30th), I learnt that head-quarters were to be that day and the next at Carbajales, near the Esla, to superintend one great object of the movement, the passage of the Esla, a formidable river in a military point of view. Fearing to be left behind, though without orders, I determined to march again the next morning (31st), at four, six long leagues to Carbajales. I tried to find the nearest road, the longest being round by Constantia, and, though the best, I did not wish to go above a league out of my way. My directions were to pass Yal d’Aguia, Aldea Nova, Fonfrio, and Vermilho. I got right to near Fonfrio and then, through a wrong direction given me by a little miss who sent me by mistake for Carvajosa, I found myself two leagues out of my way at Pino, and had to cross straight over the country for Vermilho. The consequence was that I arrived late and tired at Carbajales, where head-quarters still remained, and at last got a very bad quarter there, but a good stable, which General Graham had just left.