Lord Wellington came into camp yesterday, but we were not able to move till this morning, and have escaped a most boisterous night. I am quite well in health notwithstanding our hard work, and, if the weather would moderate, should be rather glad to be encamped, as it will save some very fatiguing rides. I will send you a return of our forces by my next. At present I have not time, nor after such a long epistle would you wish me to enter into the other subjects of your letter, but I am most happy to find our Politics are exactly the same. I am very sorry for poor Farmer’s death. Poor Vesey is melancholy indeed for his family. C’est la fortune de la guerre. We never allow people’s deaths, who are not nearly connected with us, to disturb us much, or we should always be unhappy.... Yrs., etc.,
Wm. W.
It is not easy to write connectedly with such a noisy serenade, but as we are out of danger, we shall soon be accustomed to the noise. You shall hear from me constantly.
Extracts from Letters to Sisters
Camp before Badajos, March 29, 1812.
I am amused with your complaining of the noise the Parrot makes, which prevents your writing, when I am at this moment, and constantly since the Siege began, serenaded by the roar of cannons and musquetry of both sides. We are out of danger, but have all the advantage of the noise, and if I was to write only when we are quiet, my friends would have reason to complain of me, but habit reconciles us to everything, and we sleep as sound in the uproar now as if in Lisbon. They sometimes disturb us at daybreak when the fire is always heavier, and to-morrow and the next day, when the breaching Batteries open, we shall have an additional bass of near 30 great violoncellos.
Pray give my love to Aunt Jane. She would think ill, though I don’t, of her own countrymen, if she had seen how coolly Pat put all the “Frinch to dith” in the Fort the other night. The Connaughts (88th) have declared that “they will patronise Ld. Welln. no longer if he accepts any “Campititation” from the Governor, “for sure, if they can but get a cavity in the wall, they will get in every bit of them”!...
You must not quiz my spelling or writing, as, please remember, I am writing in a tent on my bed, and that those varlets the French are making more noise than the Parrot. It is really impertinent of them, but they do not know that I am writing to you.
April 3rd.—Quite well.