Lodged in the town of Mello.
25th
Bivouacked in a wood. Supposed to be waiting for supplies.
Letter No. XI
Mello (near Celorico), Portugal,
26th March 1811.
My dear Parents—I received the melancholy account of poor John with sorrow.[19] It is a great misfortune, and under the present circumstances it is utterly impossible to give him the least support. I hope by this time you have received more authentic information as to his situation. It is entirely out of my power to gain any knowledge of him or be of the slightest use, distant as I am from England. Your plan will be to make inquiry through the Transport Board, but it is so entirely out of my way, I cannot advise you how to act with certainty. In a mercantile place like Hull you will find numbers very well acquainted with the business. If it would be possible to remit him money occasionally, it would be the best way of serving him. It would be cruel of me to say anything further regarding my displeasure when I heard of him binding himself in so low a capacity; it is done, and the result has proved truly unfortunate. We cannot foresee evils, but we should endeavour to prevent them. If he had been a soldier, or a sailor in a King's ship, he would, though a prisoner, have had some little liberty, but in his situation he will not be noticed, but mix with men of all descriptions. I endeavour to look upon his unfortunate situation in the best manner possible. I flatter myself an exchange of prisoners may take place before long. I hope his constitution is good. He may possibly make his escape, though when once safe in France, it is unlikely. I sometimes fancy he may get away after recovering from the wounds he received, being near the coast. If he is enterprising, I think he may have several chances; but, poor fellow, his youth may make him careless. I wish I had the chance of attacking the escort that guards him on the road. I think you would then soon have a favourable account of him. Give me all the information you can about him in your next.
I joined my regiment at Valle on the 22nd of February, the place I left them at, my health quite restored and my thigh much better. I heard of Maud's regiment being on the other side of the Tagus in good quarters; it induced me to go. He was delighted to see me. He regretted much the account of poor John. I dined with him, and stayed until late the day following. Before I left his quarters he gave me an excellent dinner and plenty of good wine. I was much pleased with his manner of living, having a good stock of useful and necessary things, a canteen with knives, forks, plates, etc.—in short, everything useful, with a donkey to carry them. He is very steady, and has saved money. I paid him some very high compliments on his conduct. He is taller than I, and I assure you a very handsome, stout fellow. I told him about the little trinkets I had sent Ann from Lisbon, which, by the bye, I hope have arrived safe; acquaint me regarding them in your next. He means to make Ann some presents when he returns. The officers of his regiment behaved very politely, and invited me to spend some days, but that was impossible. My brother came a little way with me, and with regret we parted. We continued at Valle within pistol-shot of the enemy's sentries until 6th March. At daybreak we found the enemy had left this strong position and withdrawn his piquets. Our Division directly followed. The French went off in the night, consisting of the rear-guard of 12,000 men. They had been for some days taking sick and baggage to the rear and heavy cannon also. We passed through the fine town of Santarem, which was dreadfully sacked. I was in the town when full of people and wealth; this sight hurt my feelings much. A few half-starved miserable wretches came to cheer us, nearly dead with hunger. I looked for the house I was once billeted upon, but, alas! only the bare walls remained. The unfortunate owner was a fine liberal old man, and treated me very kindly. I made some inquiries, but could hear nothing. We halted for the night in a village.
At daybreak we followed the French, and passed through several towns on fire. We did not come up with them. This night was on outlying piquet. A little cottage by the roadside struck my fancy. I took up my abode in order to have my pound of meat cooked and to be sheltered, being rainy. The woman of the house welcomed me in and offered me her chair. She had four children lying near her literally starving. The French had robbed her of everything worth taking. Some of the soldiers cut her with their swords for endeavouring to stop them from taking away her daughter, and one villain had the meanness to return to the house and tell her, "Your children are starving; if you will give two dollars for this loaf, you shall have it." She went where the last of her money was secreted; he watched her, and took the money, abused her, and walked off. The poor creature and her children appeared so wretched; she was continually praying the English would revenge her wrongs. I did what I could to console her, and gave them some of my little stock of provisions, which, circumstanced as we are, we must, from real necessity, be very careful of, as the towns are all left by the inhabitants.
It is beyond everything horrid the way these European savages have treated the unfortunate Portuguese. Almost every man they get hold of they murder. The women they use too brutally for me to describe. They even cut the throats of infants. The towns are mostly on fire—in short, they are guilty of every species of cruelty. I have seen such sights as have made me shudder with horror, and which I really could not have believed unless an eye-witness of them. It is needless for me to enter into particulars, as I could fill a volume with their barbarities. We continued marching, daily taking French sick and stragglers. If they fell by any chance into the hands of the Portuguese, they either dashed their brains out or stabbed them without ceremony. From the Portuguese they certainly deserve no quarter, for they give none.