The writer complains of my ill-breeding, and with that valour which belongs to the incognito menaces me with his literary vengeance for my former comments. His vengeance! Bah! The ass’ ears peep too far beyond the lion’s hide. He shall now learn that I always adapt my manners to the level of the person I am addressing; and though his petty industry indicates a mind utterly incapable of taking an enlarged view of any subject he shall feel that chastisement awaits his malevolence. And first with respect to the small sketches in my work which he pronounces to be the very worst plans possible. It is expressly stated on the face of each that they are only ‘Explanatory Sketches,’ his observations therefore are a mere ebullition of contemptible spleen; but I will now show my readers why they are only sketches and not accurate plans.
When I first commenced my work, amongst the many persons from whom I sought information was sir George Murray, and this in consequence of a message from him, delivered to me by sir John Colborne, to the effect, that if I would call upon him he would answer any question I put to him on the subject of the Peninsular War. The interview took place, but sir George Murray, far from giving me information seemed intent upon persuading me to abandon my design; repeating continually that it was his intention to write the History of the War himself. He appeared also desirous of learning what sources of information I had access to. I took occasion to tell him that the duke of Wellington had desired me to ask him particularly for the ‘Order of Movements,’ as essentially necessary to a right understanding of the campaign and the saving of trouble; because otherwise I should have to search out the different movements through a variety of documents. Sir George replied that he knew of no such orders, that he did not understand me. To this I could only reply that I spoke as the duke had desired me, and knew no more.[6] I then asked his permission to have reduced plans made from captain Mitchell’s fine drawings, informing him that officer was desirous so to assist me. His reply was uncourteously vehement—‘No! certainly not!’ I proposed to be allowed to inspect those drawings if I were at any time at a loss about ground. The answer was still ‘No!’ And as sir George then intimated to me that my work could only be a momentary affair for the booksellers and would not require plans I took my leave. I afterwards discovered that he had immediately caused captain Mitchell’s drawings to be locked up and sealed.
I afterwards waited on sir Willoughby Gordon, the quarter-master-general, who treated me with great kindness, and sent me to the chief of the plan department in his office with an order to have access to everything which might be useful. From that officer I received every attention; but he told me that sir George Murray had been there the day before to borrow all the best plans relating to the Peninsular War, and that consequently little help could be given to me. Now Captain Mitchell’s drawings were made by him after the war, by order of the government, and at the public expense. He remained in the Peninsula for more than two years with pay as a staff-officer, his extra expenses were also paid:[7] he was attended constantly by two Spanish dragoons as a protection and the whole mission was costly. Never was money better laid out, for I believe no topographical drawings, whether they be considered for accuracy of detail, perfection of manner, or beauty of execution, ever exceeded Mitchell’s. But those drawings belong to the public and were merely placed in sir George Murray’s official keeping. I believe they are still in his possession and it would be well if some member of parliament were to ask why they are thus made the property of a private man?[8]
Here I cannot refrain from observing that, in the course of my labours, I have asked information of many persons of various nations, even of Spaniards, after my first volume was published, and when the unfavourable view I took of their exertions was known. And from Spaniards, Portuguese, English, French, and Germans, whether of high or low rank, I have invariably met with the greatest kindness, and found an eager desire to aid me. Sir George Murray only has thrown obstacles in my way; and if I am rightly informed of the following circumstance, his opposition has not been confined to what I have stated above. Mr. Murray, the bookseller, purchased my first volume with the right of refusal for the second volume. When the latter was nearly ready a friend informed me that he did not think Murray would purchase, because he had heard him say that sir George Murray had declared it was not ‘The Book.’ He did not point out any particular error; but it was not ‘The Book;’ meaning doubtless that his own production, when it appeared, would be ‘The Book.’ My friend’s prognostic was good. I was offered just half of the sum given for the first volume. I declined it, and published on my own account; and certainly I have had no reason to regret that Mr. Murray waited for ‘The Book:’ indeed he has since told me very frankly that he had mistaken his own interest. Now whether three articles in ‘The Quarterly,’ and a promise of more,[9] be a tribute paid to the importance of ‘My Book,’ or whether they be the puff preliminary to ‘The Book,’ I know not; but I am equally bound to Mr. Editor Lockhart for the distinction, and only wish he had not hired such a stumbling sore-backed hackney for the work. Quitting this digression, I return to the Review.
My topographical ignorance is a favourite point with the writer, and he mentions three remarkable examples on the present occasion:—1. That I have said Oporto is built in a hollow; 2. That I have placed the Barca de Avintas only three miles from the Serra Convent, instead of nine miles; 3. That I have described a ridge of land near Medellin where no such ridge exists.
These assertions are all hazarded in the hope that they will pass current with those who know no better, and will be unnoticed by those who do. But first a town may be on a hill and yet in a hollow. If the reader will look at lieutenant Godwin’s Atlas,[10] or at Gage’s Plan of Oporto, or at Avlis’ Plan of that city—all three published by Mr. Wylde of Charing Cross—he will find that Oporto, which by the way is situated very much like the hot-wells at Bristol, is built partly on the slopes of certain heights partly on the banks of the river; that it is surrounded on every side by superior heights; and that consequently my description of it, having relation to the Bishop’s lines of defence and the attack of the French army, is militarily correct. Again, if the reader will take his compasses and any or all of the three maps above-mentioned, he will find that the Barca de Avintas is, as I have said, just three miles from the Serra Convent, and not nine miles as the reviewer asserts. Lord Wellington’s despatch called it four miles from Oporto, but there is a bend in the river which makes the distance greater on that side.
Such being the accuracy of this very correct topographical critic upon two or three examples, let us see how he stands with respect to the third.
Extracts from marshal Victors Official Report and Register of the Battle of Medellin.
‘Medellin is situated upon the left bank of the Guadiana. To arrive there, a handsome stone-bridge is passed. On the left of the town is a very high hill (mamelon tres elévé), which commands all the plain; on the right is a ridge or steppe (rideau), which forms the basin of the Guadiana. Two roads or openings (débouchés) present themselves on quitting Medellin; the one conducts to Mingrabil, the other to Don Benito. They traverse a vast plain, bounded by a ridge (rideau), which, from the right of the Ortigosa, is prolonged in the direction of Don Benito, and Villa Neuva de la Serena.’... ‘The ridge which confines the plain of Medellin has many rises and falls (movemens de terrain) more or less apparent. It completely commands (domine parfaitement) the valley of the Guadiana; and it was at the foot of this ridge the enemy’s cavalry was posted. Not an infantry man was to be seen; but the presence of the cavalry made us believe that the enemy’s army was masked behind this ridge of Don Benito.’... ‘Favoured by this ridge, he could manœuvre his troops, and carry them upon any point of the line he pleased without being seen by us.’