Transcriber’s Note: Italic text is enclosed in _underscores_ and
boldface text in =equals signs=.




UNDER ENGLAND’S FLAG




_BY THE SAME AUTHOR_


  A PRISONER OF FRANCE, the Memoirs, Diary, and Correspondence of
    CHARLES BOOTHBY, Captain Royal Engineers, during his last Campaign.
    Square Crown 8vo. Cloth. Price 6s. Containing Frontispiece Portrait
    of the Author, and several Pen-and-ink Sketches.

“We cordially recommend this charming bit of autobiography.”--_Daily
Chronicle._

“Should be in the hands of all young soldiers, for it is a manual of
soldierly kindness and fine humanity.”--_Vanity Fair._


A. & C. BLACK, SOHO SQUARE, LONDON.


                           AGENTS IN AMERICA
                         THE MACMILLAN COMPANY
                       66 FIFTH AVENUE, NEW YORK


[Illustration: CAPTAIN CHARLES BOOTHBY, R.E.

Born 1786. Died 1846.]




                                 UNDER
                             ENGLAND’S FLAG
                           From 1804 to 1809

                 THE MEMOIRS, DIARY, AND CORRESPONDENCE
                     OF CHARLES BOOTHBY, CAPTAIN OF
                      ROYAL ENGINEERS, COMPILED BY
                           THE LAST SURVIVORS
                             OF HIS FAMILY,
                                M. S. B.
                                   &
                                C. E. B.

                          _SEVEN ILLUSTRATIONS
                 WITH VARIOUS PEN-AND-INK SKETCHES FROM
                          THE AUTHOR’S DIARY_

                                 LONDON
                         ADAM AND CHARLES BLACK
                                  1900

                         _All rights reserved_




                               · UBIQUE ·

                    QUO · FAS · ET · GLORIA · DUCUNT




INTRODUCTION


Why should I now write my life, or retrace the more adventurous part of
it? I have no material to afford instruction or impart knowledge even
to the humblest class of readers.

I have been an unobservant and an unintelligent traveller. The
exclusive occupation of an arduous profession may indeed excuse this,
but cannot obviate its sterilising consequences.

I have no new events, no unknown regions, no wonderful discoveries to
unfold. Reader, there are a great many good reasons for not troubling
thee with a book, and thou mayest well inquire why I have not attended
to them.

The fact is, they have had considerable weight with me, and for these
fourteen or fifteen years have served to keep my manuscripts quiet in
my desk, and they would have kept them there for ever if, by reflection
and consideration of the times, I had not conceived a hope that their
publication might be useful to my countrymen.

Another motive I have, which I mention last, because it is the most
serious, and this is, that I have found much of the writing and style
of contemporaneous authors calculated to undervalue religion, to
undermine it by sneers and insinuations, and to look down upon it with
compassionate airs of superior illumination.

Hundreds who are startled, interested, and attracted by the audacity
of assaults upon religion neither know nor care what has been the
deliberate conclusion of Newton, of Locke, of Milton, or of Pope.
Therefore, let the man who has through life felt religion to be as a
guard and shield spread before him, becoming a more ample and secure
protection as the exigency became more pressing and severe, let him
oppose his sober experience to that of the scoffer, whose works and
words give out that he has found some secret of happiness in throwing
religion aside as a troublesome, childish, and unfashionable restraint.

Most indolently, most imperfectly have I served my God, but I have
never in any part of life forgotten Him, never have ceased to love and
fear Him.

The return He has made to me it is that I think worthy of remark.

In the depression before Him of conscious unworthiness, He has enabled
me, in spite of my transgressions, to carry my heart serenely and
lightly in my breast.

Whether my soul has conceived her danger from the wars of earth or the
storms of ocean, the conflict of armies or of elements, if I have had
courage, if I have had comfort, if I have had the tranquillity and
firmness of a man, I know of no source from which I can have derived
them, excepting only the kindness of God speaking to my soul through
the promises of religion.

In sickness and in suffering, the friend and the nurse remove every
object of external disquiet, and the faults of the strong are forgotten
in the sufferings of the sick. But what friend, or what nurse is, or
has ever been to me, so kind as the Spirit of God.

Silently then, (removing the far more disquieting subject of internal
uneasiness), the mountain of recollected offences, and the anxious
cloud of apprehended evils, are melted away before the steadfast beam
of Christian hope, like snow before the sun of summer. Does it need,
then, much learning or much study to contradict the sneer of the
mocker or emancipate the spirit of his victim? I think not, and hope
that in the book now offered to the public something like good fruit
may be found. The seed indeed is small, but may God give the increase.

[Illustration: Charles Boothby (signature)]

    SUTTERTON, LINCOLNSHIRE,
              1824.




NOTE


Captain Boothby’s design of publishing his journals was never carried
out in his lifetime, and now, six-and-seventy years after he wrote the
above introduction, they are brought out for the first time in book
form. Incorporated with them are his letters to the various members
of his family, which, having been written without any thought of
reproduction, are perhaps even more vivid and natural than the journal
itself. These carry on the narrative, and bridge over what might
otherwise have been gaps in its continuity.




CONTENTS


                                                                    PAGE
  Expedition to Italy and Sicily under General Sir James Craig         9

  General Sir James Craig’s Farewell                                  50

  General Sir John Stuart in command                                  51

  The Battle of Maida                                                 69

  The Siege of Scylla                                                 85

  General Sir John Moore arrives at Messina                           98

  Captain Boothby returns to England                                 112


  Expedition to Sweden under General Sir John Moore                  114

  Departure of General Sir John Moore for England                    120

  Captain Boothby ordered to survey Isle of Sproe                    123

  Captain Boothby ordered to England to rejoin General Sir John
      Moore                                                          129


  Expedition to Spain and Portugal under General Sir John Moore
                                                                     130

  Captain Boothby ordered to Elvas                                   144

  Captain Boothby ordered to make Reconnaissance on Frontier         161

  Captain Boothby ordered to make Reconnaissance towards Orense
                                                                     202

  The Battle of Corunna                                              211

  Captain Boothby returns Home                                       228


  Expedition to Portugal and Spain                                   232

  Captain Boothby in General Sherbrooke’s Division, and attached
      to the Brigades of Guards and Infantry under General Harry
      Campbell and General A. Campbell                               248


                               APPENDIX

  Two Letters from Captain Boothby on the Battle of Maida, 1806
                                                                     266

  Two Letters from Captain Boothby during the Expedition to
      Sweden in 1808                                                 273

  Buonaparte’s Plan of Action against Sir John Moore and his
      Opinion of that General                                        275

  Letter from Lieutenant-General Sir David Baird to Lord Viscount
      Castlereagh, Secretary of State                                276

  Letter from Lieutenant-General Hope to Lieutenant-General
      Sir David Baird, containing the Report on the Battle of
      Corunna, 16th January 1809                                     277

  Last Orders given to the Army of Spain by the great General Sir
      John Moore, K.B.                                               285




ILLUSTRATIONS


  Portrait of Captain Charles Boothby. From a miniature
                                                          _Frontispiece_

                                                                  _Page_
  The Start. From an old print                                         6

  Gibraltar. A sketch from Drinkwater’s “Gibraltar” (1785)            18

  Penelope Boothby. From portrait by _Sir Joshua Reynolds_           118

  Corunna. From an illustration in “Campaign of Lt.-Gen. Sir John
      Moore, K.B.” (1809)                                            216

  Major Sir William Boothby, Bart. After portrait by _Dance_         229

  Rafela, wife of Sir William Boothby, Bart. From portrait by
      _Hoppner_                                                      231


                         PEN-AND-INK SKETCHES

                      _From the Author’s Journal_

  Facsimile signature of Captain Boothby                            viii

  Tail of Sea Monster                                                 13

  Representation of the Legend of St. Francisco di Paolo              43

  Strange Bird on Fore Topsail Yard                                  135

  Head and Claw of Strange Bird                                      136

  The Deaf Corregidor                                                167

  Bridge of Alcantara                                                181

  Bridge of Benavente (?), destroyed 29th December 1808              200

  Sketch Plan of Battle of Corunna                                   215

  Diagram illustrating Ineffectual Firing of French Battery          225

  Tomb of Sir John Moore                                             226

  Facsimile signature of Sir John Moore                              285




UNDER ENGLAND’S FLAG


That branch of the military profession to which I was destined (the
Royal Engineers) requires an early dedication to its peculiar studies.
We are put under military discipline while we are yet boys, and are
in many respects good soldiers before we come to be men. Hence a
consequence is derived to this service which I think is favourably
felt by its members in after life; and this is, that their companions
in arms and in the labours and dangers of war are, for the most part,
those with whom they have shared the yoke of education, and the more
than redeeming pleasures of youthful fellowship. Much doubt, therefore,
in the selection of friends, and much of the disappointment and injury
which so often accrue from a bad choice, are hereby spared, since at a
period when Nature seldom permits any sustained disguise, each young
mind has furnished itself with friends, chosen, as it were, in the
castle of truth. Here it has obtained the knowledge of which to seek
and which to shun. Thus, when at the age of seventeen or eighteen I
assumed the sword of a British officer, the branch of service into
which I entered contained numbers of my chosen friends, whose hearts I
knew to the bottom, and who knew mine. A character on both sides was
already established which we would have died rather than sully, and
certainly the advantages of this emulous friendship did not terminate
with the individual, but extended to the service in which they were
employed. Of all my early friends, I never knew one who was not eager
and importunate to be placed in the front of danger and of enterprise,
or who thought even for a moment of sparing any extent of labour,
peril, loss of liberty, or life itself in the service of his country;
and most of these, in the flower of youth and dawn of military glory,
have fallen in battle.

After about a year spent on a home station, in compliance with my
earnest request, I was nominated, early in 1805, to proceed with a
foreign expedition, going, no one knew whither, under the command of
Sir James Craig.

This order plunged me immediately into a new state of existence,
wherein every sort of agitation, activity, and conflicting emotion
succeeded to the monotony of routine duty. I exulted that I was so
early to taste of foreign service, and the note of preparation and
outfit was well suited to the stirring propensity of youth; but in the
midst of all my satisfaction and ardent hope there did lurk a fear and
a dread at the bottom of my heart of something I had first to encounter.

My father and mother had accustomed the hearts of their children to
such unbounded tenderness and love as is sure to draw a proportionate
return; and in spite of the commonness of such separation, I knew
better than any one else could that the thoughts of my departure would
make that home unhappy whose happiness and peace I prized above all
other things.

I knew that my incomparable father, whatever he might feel, had no
wish to make a home soldier of his son. I knew he would both mourn and
approve my departure. But it was a thing which lay in my way and hung
at my heart, and my first object on arriving in London was to seek my
new commanding officer, and gain his consent to my making a hurried
journey to take leave of my friends.

The name of my new chief I had long known, for his fine person and dark
flashing eye had been pointed out to me when a boy as belonging to the
finest officer in the service, and his manner and conversation were all
that a raw boy could hope to find in a young man, of kindness, genius,
and experience. My heart beat with the thoughts of serving under such
a master, of being trained to actual service under his eye, and
(youthful vanity perhaps added) of being made by him as fine and clever
a fellow as himself.

He entered at once into the feelings which made me so desirous to make
a journey home, and the moment he could ascertain that the time would
serve, “Be off then, Boothby,” he said, “but make all the haste you
can back; and if I have left London, lose not a moment in getting to
Portsmouth.”

Away I went. The parting scene was more trying even than I anticipated,
but “Time and the hour run through the roughest day,” and I was soon on
my way back to London. I had seen my father’s venerable form and manly
features shaken with childish weeping as he held me to his breast, and
though long the pang of that sight dwelt in my mind--for I have ever
since cherished that sacred picture as one of the holiest my memory
can retain--I never shall forget the relief and lightness I felt from
having got through this sad passage of tears and lamentations. On
arriving in London I feared that my Chief had left it, so I hastened
to that second mother who had spent the short interval of my absence
in collecting all the various articles desirable for an officer in the
Mediterranean, to which we were supposed to be destined.

I found her in her drawing-room, where every sofa, cabinet, chair,
and table was covered with my clothes and linen, which hers and other
kind hands were marking. The perpetual consciousness of doing kind and
useful acts had made an angelic smile the inseparable companion of her
face, and with that loved, that dearly-remembered smile did she now
receive me.

To all the stores she had so laboured to procure for me she had added
as her own present a complete writing-box and dressing-case combined--a
luxury of peculiar value to me, which my own funds would have found
it difficult to compass; but finding me uneasy lest I should be left
behind or be thought tardy by my commander, “Go,” she said, “you shan’t
wait for your baggage; we will have it all packed up, and I will send
my butler with it to Portsmouth, that I may be sure of its reaching
you.”

Down to Portsmouth then I went on the outside of the Mail, in the
highest health and the ardent spirits of youth--spirits that made, I
suppose, even my body buoyant and elastic, for the Mail overturned
in the night and threw me on the road without giving me so much as a
scratch or a bruise. It was about twenty miles from London when we
met a team of horses standing in a slant direction on the road, the
night very foggy with misting rain, and the lamps not penetrating
farther into the mist than the rumps of the wheelers. The coachman, to
avoid the waggon, turned suddenly out of the way and ran up the bank.
Finding the coach swaggering, I got up, with my face to the horses,
hardly daring to suppose it possible that the Mail could overturn, when
the unwieldy monster was on one wheel, and then down it came with a
terminal bang. During my descent I had just time to hope that I might
escape with the fracture of one or two legs, and then found myself on
my two shoulders, very much pleased with the novelty and ease of the
journey. I got me up, and spied the monster with his two free wheels
whirling with great velocity, but quite compact and still in the body,
and as soon as I had shaken my feathers and opened my senses I began to
think of the one female and three males in the inside, whom I supposed
to be either dead or asleep. I ran to open the door, when the guard,
having thought of the same thing, did it for me, and we then took out
the folks one by one, like pickled ghirkins, or anything else preserved
in a jar, by putting our hands to the bottom. We found that the inmates
were only stupefied, though all had bruises of some kind, and one
little gentleman complained that he was nipped in the loins by the
mighty pressure of his neighbour, who had sat upon him some time after
the door was opened, to recollect himself or to give thanks for his
escape.

[Illustration: THE START.

“Down to Portsmouth then I went on the outside of the Mail.”]

The lady told me “she was terribly hurt indeed,” and so, when we got to
the supper place, I gave her a kipperkin of boiled port wine with much
spice. She agreed it was very nice, and looked more cheery, but the
rest of the inside passengers seemed to think that it would not look
well to eat after being overturned.

Not one on the outside was hurt in the least degree, and I, being on
the top of the coach, had the farthest fly.

I had not been without my fears that on arriving at Portsmouth I should
have to hasten on board, and perhaps sail without my baggage; but the
wind had changed, all the troops were not yet embarked, and nobody
seemed to be thinking of anything but gaiety and amusement, or the not
unpleasant business of laying in comforts for the voyage.

Sir James Craig and Lefebure were lodging together, and kindly took
me in till I could provide myself better. With Lefebure I had early
acquaintance, and since entering the Army we had been employed in
neighbouring stations, and I knew that under Sir James Craig’s command
he had come to be reckoned perhaps the best officer of his early
standing. He, I found, was to be of our company, as well as Hoste and
Lewis, two more of my earlier friends.

Our second in command was Sir John Stuart, whom I saw for the first
time. The best and bravest could not have chosen fitter company than
every one of these. Sir James Craig and Sir John Stuart were of great
experience and superior rank. Sir John Stuart had served long at
Gibraltar; Sir James Craig everywhere. The rest might be called equals,
for in youth, inexperience, and rank they were about equal, but of the
whole party I was the junior officer.

Two excellent vessels, a ship and a brig, were appointed for our
accommodation, and some of us were allotted to the ship and some to the
brig.

Each party now addressed itself to the important task of laying in a
comfortable sea stock, and the two ships agreed, as opportunity should
occur, that they would interchange fresh meat on the voyage.

For our part we provided several sheep and pigs, a milch goat, and a
great many ducks and fowls, with hay and grain for their provender, a
prodigious quantity of eggs and potatoes, butter, cheese, and lard,
of pickles, sauces, spices, portable soup, white and brown maccaroni,
vermicelli, and celery seed, with a variety of other stores, but
particularly a great stock of bottled porter, a barrel of ale, and a
pretty allowance of wine and spirits.

The procuring and embarking of all these various things, animate and
inanimate, fell in equal portions to Lewis and myself. It was no light
task, but neither was it bad fun. Lewis was a pleasant, lively, and
most efficient colleague; many a voyage did we make to Spithead; many
an hour did we spend on board to see proper accommodation prepared for
our live stock, and to place our stores out of the reach of damage or
of breakage.

The general obligation of such provisioning makes the streets of
Portsmouth like a rabbit-warren, the scarlet purchasers popping in and
out of the shop doors incessantly in long succession.

Between two and three weeks passed over not unpleasantly, for letters
and various accidents had extended my acquaintance amongst the staff of
the army, and tended to wear off any feeling of strangeness.

The general impression was that Malta was our destination in the first
instance, as indeed it was known that we were charged with despatches
for that island.

On the 18th of April 1805 we set sail--a numerous fleet of transports
under the convoy of the _Queen_, a three-decker, having the Commander
of the Forces on board and his staff, and the _Dragon_, a seventy-four,
carrying Sir John Stuart, the second in command, and his staff.

The army was supposed to be from 8000 to 10,000 strong, accompanied
as well by four companies of artillery, and a prodigal supply of all
warlike stores.

                                         PORTSMOUTH, _April 17, 1805_.

  MY DEAREST FATHER--I can only say we are all going on board, and
  expect to sail to-morrow, certainly for the Mediterranean. Don’t
  write any more to this place. I am perfectly happy and comfortable.
  God bless you, and my mother, and Louisa.--Ever yours, my dearest
  Dad,

                                                        CHAS. BOOTHBY.

  You must not expect to hear from me any more, but I will seize
  every opportunity.


FROM JOURNAL NOTES

Began to blow hard as we made the Scilly Isles, chops of Channel so
rough, landsmen on beam ends. In Bay of Biscay, increased to squally
gale. One entire day in cabin. Great confusion from violence of motion.
Every day afterwards on deck.

_April 26, 1805._--Delightful starlight night. Fleet in compact body
with lights astern; silence only broken by mellowed sea noises. So
happy a time for the feast of thought, that I could not leave deck till
after midnight.

_April 27._--Voyage ten days old. Wrote to my father.

                               OFF THE COAST OF SPAIN,
                        BETWEEN CAPE FINISTERRE AND ORTEGAL,
                             _Sunday, April 27, 1805._
              _Calm air, bright sun, and a cheerful prospect of land._

  With much satisfaction, my ever dearest Father, I sit in the boat
  astern and turn my pen to a usual and most comfortable employment.

  I have been so _very ill_ in that Stygian boiling Bay of Biscay,
  that I would willingly have given something to boot with my
  commission for a “Burgamy pear” or a “Brown Burer.” Nature, I
  thought, could not stand it! I knew there was nothing in me to
  comply with those violent requisitions! It began to blow hard just
  as we made the Scilly Isles, and the winds and waves overcame me in
  the murky chops of the Channel. But I will not keep you or myself
  longer upon these disagreeable topics, and so will quit them.

  I do not suppose that I shall be able to send you this until we
  arrive at Gibraltar, but I will add to it from time to time.

  Oh, how I long to be roving over those Spanish mountains, and to be
  relieved from this constant see-saw.

  The coast which we see is very romantic. We are about eighteen
  miles from it, and are under strict orders not to land at any
  port we may put into, without express permission. So I think it
  most likely that officers will not be allowed to go on shore at
  Gibraltar.

       *       *       *       *       *

                                              _Tuesday, April 30._
                                          _Land thirty miles distant._

  Since I last sat down we have made about 100 miles. On Sunday we
  were hailed by the _Prince_, the ship in which are our other three
  comrades--Captain Lefebure (our commandant), Nicholas, and Hoste.
  They told us on board the _Prince_ that the Toulon fleet was out,
  and being too strong for Sir John Orde, he had put in to Gibraltar,
  and that they expected we should put in to Lisbon--a slender
  protection!!

  We were more than half inclined to credit this, as we believe that
  Sir John Orde has not more than five sail, and the French might be
  reinforced from Ferrol.

  Our convoy is, we think, very inadequate, because the loss of this
  little army would be a sad damper to England, particularly from the
  nature and quantity of stores, and the six Royal Engineers attached
  to it!!!--only the “_Queen_,” the “_Dragon_,” and a “_Bomb_.”

  A breeze springing up last night had been preceded by the
  appearance of a shoal of porpoises, which took a westerly
  direction, and whose novel gambols and beastly black appearances
  amused us much.

  The _Queen_ made signal to bring up and lay to, which we did all
  the night. We supposed that she was waiting for the _Dragon_, who
  had left us at mid-day to reconnoitre, and we began to consider how
  we should like a French prison.

  This morning the _Dragon_ returned, and we suppose all clear, as we
  are now on our voyage with a smart breeze.

  We see the coast of Portugal very plain, and can distinguish with
  the naked eye the buildings immediately on the beach, and with a
  glass we discover further into the country, which appears beautiful.

  We have met shoals of Portuguese fishing boats, and to-day we have
  been much amused with the sight of a sea-monster of immense size.
  He frequently gave us very good views of his grand tail, and he
  was attended by a foreign suite, inhabitants of the surmounting
  element. His tail was forked, and on one side he displayed a jetty
  brightness, and on the other a dazzling white. He gave us glimpses
  of other parts of his body, which increased our respect for him.
  He was, I should think, two miles distant, and yet we saw him
  perfectly distinct.

[Illustration]

       *       *       *       *       *

                                       OFF LISBON ROCK, _May 5, 1805_.

  We have had blowing weather from the south, but I stood it
  seaman-like this time. The weather now quite calm. The Ordnance
  agent is on board. He confirms late reports of the Toulon fleet of
  twenty-one sail being out, and that Lord Nelson is after them, but
  not, as we thought, off Cadiz, in which case we expected to put
  into Lisbon. What they may do I fear! Lord Nelson has but ten. Is
  he to strive with impossibilities and get the better of them?

  The Admiral sending despatches to England, I seize the opportunity.

  God for ever with his blessings surround us in one happy circle....
  Adieu. We soon shall meet again.

                                                      CHARLES BOOTHBY.

_May 7._--Put in to the port of Lisbon.

The orders issued to the troops are to be ready to land at a moment’s
notice with artillery and every preparation of war in case of
emergency, but no one allowed to go on shore on any account whatever.

Hence we conceive that some attempt from the French fleet (said to
be at Cadiz) is thought possible; and should it approach the Tagus,
the Commander-in-Chief had determined to land his forces and seize
the batteries commanding the river, and this, we conceived, would be
excellent fun. Meantime, however the orange groves might tempt us
with their fragrance and their verdure, no one was allowed to land.
The Portuguese boats, though, brought us off plenty of oranges still
attached to their green branches, which tickled the imagination to
heighten their zest, and to quench our salt-sea thirst after fruit and
freshness.

The _Orpheus_ frigate (it is said) sends intelligence into the Tagus
that Lord Nelson blockades Cadiz with such a force as the combined
fleet dare not encounter. Whatever the intelligence was, however, it
produced orders to sail.

We hear that General Junot blustered a good deal at a British armament
entering the Tagus, and declared that the first man that set foot
on shore should be the signal for his departure. He was spared the
trouble, however, for this afternoon we set sail, having received
orders to be on the alert to repel any attack from gunboats as we
approached the gut of Gibraltar. Good amusement in drilling all hands
on board to the service of the great guns and small arms.

_May 12._--A beautiful breeze brought us off Cadiz, where we passed
through great Nelson’s fleet, lying to, and, as we imagined, blockading
the combined fleet, who had by this time got to the West Indies. We
were now at the point where precaution was necessary.

As junior I took the first watch. A most beautiful moonlight night
showed to admiration the coast of Barbary, terminated by Ape’s Hill,
and on the other hand the not less sublime outline of the Spanish land.

The moon with her immeasurable column on the waters, silvering the
prominent points in the dark grandeur of these newly seen and far-famed
shores, while the fleets in quiet approached it with swift wings, and
the keel-ploughed deep seemed kindling with diamonds and with fire--a
sight never, never to be forgotten! Nor do I know the price that (after
experience of its sublimity) could have bought this watch from me.

I felt sure that if any attempt were made on us, we should distinguish
ourselves, but the blessed wind was too fair and strong, and the whole
fleet glided along in silent and unspeakable triumph, the elements that
had opposed now inviting to accelerate our speed, the sparkling waves
pursuing but to push us forward, and the winds never drawing breath
from our full canvas, transparent with the peerless moon. Lewis took
the second watch, and in four hours I was again to relieve him, but
before they had elapsed he came into the cabin and told me I need not
disturb myself, as we were close under the Rock. But we had scarcely
composed ourselves before a desperate cannonading began. Up we both
jumped, and being nearly dressed, ran on deck cursing the gunboats. But
it was only the Spanish batteries saluting the dawn of the birthday of
the Prince of Peace!!!

However, the wonderful and beautiful Rock would not let us leave the
deck until broad daylight had unfolded all its features. To be so first
seen, uprising like the very wall of heaven, and tracing its giant
outline upon the dark blue of night, while mortals in their little
ships are bounding upon the liquid diamond that bathes its foot, was
fortunate, for of all the shows and sights I have ever seen, none so
transfixed me with delight and splendid novelty as this glorious
Pinnacle of Rock. Close to it we seemed, its peopled and fortified
steep rising above us high up into heaven, light above light moving
upon the rich darkness of his umbered face, so that to see where his
long uneven ridge ended in the sky, the spectator’s head must hang back
between the shoulder-blades. After a short sleep, curiosity called us
early on deck, and it is impossible to conceive a scene more busy,
beautiful, and variously attractive to an inexperienced eye than the
Bay of Gibraltar at this time presented. In the first place, even to
the most sedate mind, there is a sort of magnificent personality in
the form and situation of the Rock fortress itself, difficult indeed
to describe, but impossible not irresistibly to feel. There he rears
himself proudly out of the blue water into the blue sky, while all
around within the sweep of his thunder lies in uniform subjection. Vast
mountains and bold shores shut in the horizon, but they approach not
him; in the heart of a great kingdom, in the midst of enemies, within
his own circuit he is unapproachably supreme. The moment friendly
ships come within his shadow, the foe ceases to pursue, and retires in
acknowledgment of his power.

On the other side of the Bay, the Spanish port and depot of Algeciras,
about seven miles distant, furnishes, in time of war, objects of
continual interest. Swarms of gunboats are assembled there, as well as
in the African fortress of Ceuta, fifteen miles distant (other side of
Gut), and in unfavourable winds infest, damage, and sometimes carry off
the merchant vessels as their prey in the very sight of the impregnable
fortress, whose garrison, from their parades and quarters, can quietly
behold every vicissitude of their running contests, exhibited on a
scene beautiful beyond all description. The two fortresses, as daylight
ceases and again returns, hear each other’s warning gun, and know that
either keeps its watch, while vessels constantly approaching from
east and west bring produce and intelligence from every part of the
world, and every ship that arrives or passes through the Straits is
subject to the inspection of every individual. No need to look into the
arrivals--all passes under review, and each inhabitant has a place on
that high theatre from which to contemplate the spectacle at his own
pleasure.

Thus when our friends informed us when the combined fleet had gone up
or down, and how long after Lord Nelson had followed (viz. a month),
they told us not what they had heard, but what each officer had seen
for himself, and had counted as the number of each fleet.

[Illustration: GIBRALTAR--NORTH VIEW

A sketch from Drinkwater’s “Gibraltar” (1785).]

In good time some very old and early friends come off to invite us to
the shore, and, to our inexpressible joy, leave is given us to land.
We are not, however, to sleep on shore, and receive the most exact
caution to be ready at a moment’s notice, as the greatest expedition
will be made to proceed. My excellent little friend Archer, with whom
I had been educated, was one of those who came alongside our ship
to welcome his old friend and playfellow and to do the honours of
Gibraltar.

It was now we were made acquainted with every point and chronicle of
the Rock--where formerly endangered, where subsequently strengthened,
whence terribly remembered by the enemy. These were subjects involved
in a labyrinth which the practised eye of our Commandant could unravel
at a glance, and in two days he knew more thoroughly the strength and
power of this fortress than many a brave officer resident upon it for
half his life.

Some fear subsists that we shall be detained some time at Gibraltar. We
are still obliged to sleep on board, and to use precautions in case of
attack from the gunboats. If the expedition is broken up, some of us
may be ordered to remain. Should I like it or no?

It is a great local confinement, and often entails spare sea diet,
but there are garrison amusements, balls, private theatricals, and
the most delectable library I ever saw for a not learned man; the
apartment splendid, the prospect beautiful, the arrangement admirable,
the decorous stillness of those who enter most auspicious, and the
terms very easy and encouraging--a trifling half-yearly contribution
and entrance of three days’ pay conferring a perpetual share. Bathing
in extreme luxury. Also the corps to which I belong have a most
gentlemanlike and well-regulated mess, and handsome quarters most
enviably situated. So that however disappointed I should be in ulterior
views, I determined to think I might be worse pleased than by being
ordered to remain here. Yet I learn from friends at headquarters that
Sir James Craig by no means expects that his army will be dispersed or
its ulterior object changed.

_June 15._--_In statu quo_, thoroughly tired of the place by this time,
and most anxious for despatches to send us on our way.

From this day till June 17th an alarm of preparations amongst the
gunboats of Algeciras obliges us to remain on board, and this day it
seems we are about to sail. Exceedingly rejoiced at those symptoms
of departure, and hoping that the fine western breeze is to take us
swiftly up the Mediterranean. No such thing. We beat about, now the
African and now the European coast, in delicious weather, and the
going quite close in to these bold shores, so as to contemplate their
picturesque beauty, takes off much of the tedium of shipboard. The
African side in point of beauty is not comparable to the Spanish--few
tracts of coast, indeed, could rival, none exceed it, or the happy,
brilliant accidents of night or day, of dawn or sunset, in which we
were perpetually viewing it. The object of this cruise was to elude a
meditated attack from Algeciras, as so large and spread-out a fleet of
ships (not of war) were particularly liable to surprise, damage, and
disablement where the enemy is always so near, the night so dark and
starlight clear, and weather so serene for sudden operations.

_June 25._--The fleet now commences its voyage, and we observe the
_Lively Frigate_, having Sir James Craig on board, make all sail, and
soon she vanishes from our view.

The voyage is only memorable to me from the unspeakable splendour of
the sun’s setting and rising, which I chanced often to contemplate
transfixed with wonder.

Towards the end of three weeks a good breeze, which had brought us off
the island of Gozo, fell from us, and left us nearly becalmed about
twenty miles from the harbour of Valetta, giving us full leisure to
view the nature of the coast and the face of the country.

Great was our curiosity to see the mode of living on that brown
island,[1] of which fame had spoken so much.

When in England we get into a chaise to be driven to some place of
note not seen before, we all know there is a sort of interest and
stretching of necks as we come near to form some notion of what it will
be like. But how much greater the interest when we get into a ship,
spread our sails to the wind and our keel to the dark blue water, and
set forth to visit some far-famed island long heard and read of as a
far-distant thing, and now find ourselves skirting along swiftly by the
very shore that girdles in its cities and its wonders; and the more
barren, rocky, unadorned, and forbidding the first range of the shore
we approached, the more we thirsted to see the high bastion of the
capital frowning over the bright blue deep.

_July 18._--A light air rose with the morning and wafted us into the
harbour of Valetta. Here, as at Gibraltar, some of our comrades come
off to welcome us, and though unknown at present, the strong bond of
belonging to the same service, wearing the same coat, and hatched, as
one might say, in the same military shell, induces them to hold out to
us the ready hand of brotherhood and friendship.

Impatient as we were to get on shore and satisfy our curiosity, we
had for the present enough to do in remarking the grandeur of the
buildings, the spaciousness, security, and many branches of the
harbour, and, above all, the stupendous character of the fortifications.

Valetta altogether appeared to me the most magnificent city I had ever
beheld. Everything contributed to imbue the scene with traits fit for
some splendid picture of growing Carthage; nothing mean or sullied,
nothing to stain the clear clean hue of every colour; the sea, the sky,
the transparent air, the chiselled stone, the native rock--all seemed
as stainless, bright, and _soignée_ as a Venetian painting, while
the masses of shipping of every description, whose decks displayed a
masquerade of divers costumes, brought the image of all nations before
us, the gondolas and open boats, with gentlemen dressed as if for
Court, with powdered heads uncovered, under umbrellas of every colour,
and wearing silk coats, looking so enviably cool as they touched from
ship to ship. All was so curious, so undeniably _abroad_, that we loved
to realise all the anticipations of imagination, and might, I doubt
not, have been amused during a much longer confinement than it was our
lot to encounter.

_July 19._--One day was all the trial our patience underwent, as on the
19th we were permitted to land and regale ourselves, like children,
with touching and turning over the forms we had been viewing at a
distance. From the point at which we landed, to which the fine streets
of the city themselves descend, the ascent to the heart of the city is
gained by stairs of vast width and breadth, but each giving a small and
imperceptible rise. The whole street, indeed, is a grand _escalier_,
of which the continuous houses of rich merchandise on either hand form
the banisters. These stairs appear to be carved out of the native rock,
and look as if a carriage and horses might safely descend, though I do
not remember that they do.

We were now on shore, mixed up in the quarters of our brother officers,
previously established here, and began a very pleasant kind of life,
in despite of nightly mosquitoes and daily heat intense, reflected and
reproduced from the glaring rock on which it everywhere smote; and this
memorandum of the heat remains fixed in my memory--the noble streets
of Valetta are extremely regular, and run in broad parallels at right
angles with each other--when the sun, therefore, begins to decline, the
streets which lie north and south are divided by broad lines of shade
and sunshine--down the broad shade then the different parties walk and
talk and lounge, with sauntering pace and head uncovered; but when one
of the broad crossings must be passed, exposed to the sun’s fierce ray,
you see every man put on his hat and dart swiftly across the bright
space, as if escaping through a fire. Various commanders and married
officers helped to furnish our society. Our new-found brethren put all
their resources at our command, and mounting us on the beautiful barb
or Arabian horses, or the scarce less beautiful ass of Malta, “showed
us all the qualities o’ the isle.”

Stationed at Gozo was Edward Ker, one of my boyish friends, and one of
our excursions was to visit him. We were delighted to meet, and though
baked and broiled by sea and land in exploring curiosities, whatever we
saw seemed to compensate our labour.

What pleased me most was a large steep rock, called the Fungus Rock,
because it produces a fungus famous for its styptic power, and which
the Grand Master (of the Knights of St. John) formerly distributed to
the potentates of Europe. Though not for the fungus did I admire the
rock, but for its stupendous eminence over a blue deep bay that lies
still and unfathomable below. You pass from one rock to another at a
terrific height in a basket sliding on a rope; and as I hung in the
air and eyed the sapphire mirror below, I conceived an eager thirst to
plunge into the cooling water; my companions consented to wait until
I had descended and gratified my desire. When sporting about in this
delicious bath, a good swimmer cannot conceive how people can sink in
that salt sea, for the water seems so solid and buoyant it requires a
great effort to keep below.

These rocks form almost such a cave as Virgil describes with such a
thrilling stillness of words:--

    Est in secessu longo locus: insula portum
    Efficit objectu laterum; quibus omnis ab alto
    Frangitur, inque sinus scindit sese unda reductos;
    Hinc atque hinc vastae rupes, geminique minantur
    In caelum scopuli: quorum sub vertice late
    Aequora tuta silent.--_Aen._ i. 163.

It was like the place--nay, perhaps it was the place--whose inviolable
stillness and stupendous barriers Virgil so divinely describes; and
whenever those still words, “Aequora tuta silent” recur to my memory,
so does this scene.

This is “secessu longo locus.”

       *       *       *       *       *

A fleet from England declared to be in the offing was a subject of
great interest at Malta. We used to repair immediately to the leads of
the Palace, whose great height, carrying the sight clear over every
obstruction of tower, church, and fortress, displayed the wide ocean
to our view, covered with the expected ships, their swelling sails
as white as wool, and the sea and sky more blue and bright than all
comparisons.

Pleasant and full of expectation it was to watch them successively
steering into the narrow port; some stately and huge, plumed with the
pennant of command, displayed the broad and checkered sides of battle;
others more humble, but innumerable; all in gallant trim and guided
seamanlike.

Then eager for the mail! the image of home imprisons the truant
soul, and brings it back to its first tenderness; the sight of the
well-known but long-suspended hand, the endearing accents which
distance has made so infrequent; that day, at least, is sacred to home;
and if the tidings have been cheering, though the eye may glisten and
the cheek of the young soldier may flush with unwonted tenderness, yet
is his heart neither solitary nor sad; his friends partake of some
reflection of the kindness that his soul is inwardly pouring out to his
parents and his brothers.

It is time to close the chapter on Malta, but before leaving I wrote
home to my mother.

                                 LA VALETTA, MALTA, _August 15, 1805_.

  DEAREST DONA RAFELA--I believe this will be brought to England
  by an officer who has obtained leave. I do not know him. Nothing
  at all remarkable has happened since I wrote last. We made an
  excursion to the island of Gozo, which is much better-looking
  than that of Malta. There is more green and romanticity, but all
  prospect here is in the sublime, for you see grateful coincidence
  of rock, sea, and sky, which can stretch the mind to great
  capacity. But where, my dear mother, are the flowery meads, the
  green pastures, the murmuring streams that may soothe the mind into
  content with itself and charity to all around? Hot stone houses,
  hot brown ground--hot, hot, all hot.

  “England, with all thy sullen skies, I love thee still, my
  country!” Dear, dear England, dearest Edwinstowe! What is objected
  to it? The cold? Why the cold produces that very thing which
  gives to England the greatest superiority over other countries--a
  fireside!

    Now stir the fire and close the shutters fast,
    And while the bubbling and loud hissing urn
    Upsends a steaming column, etc., etc.

  Wretched people under a burning sun, what do you know of this? or of

    The important budget ushered in,
    With such heart-shaking musick, etc. etc.

  I often think of my dearest father sitting in his little
  summer-house by the river, and wish myself beside him.

  We have no sight of futurity--Russia, Naples; beat the French; a
  wound, a medal, and arm in a sling.

  My health is uniform, and so are my spirits; only sometimes I sigh
  for England, for Edwinstowe, and for you. God bless you, my dearest
  mother.--With great love, your most affectionate and dutiful son,

                                                      CHARLES BOOTHBY.

I cannot tell what the affairs of the continent tend to. We get no
news, as the French detain the good, and the Neapolitans the bad.
It was verging towards winter before Sir James Craig’s expedition
actually embarked. I had permission to dine and sleep ashore the day
of embarkation. In the night I was seized with cholera--often in that
country so fatal. No assistance and no remedy of any kind was to hand.
It took its course, and in the morning I felt weak and languid, but,
thanks to youth and great strength of constitution, I was well.

At daylight I went on board with a feeling of exhaustion, but no
remains of disease.

In a few hours afterwards the fleet set sail, and the weather became
almost immediately murky and unpropitious. We made our course round the
western point of the island of Sicily without any precise knowledge of
our destination. For three weeks in that Cerulean sea did we struggle
with weather as moist and murky and with an atmosphere as thick as
ever shrouded the chops of the British Channel. But at length the
wind moderated and inclined abaft the beam, the sky and sea resumed
their blue, and the classic shores of Italy beautified by degrees the
farthest horizon. Soon, as evening fell, we were gliding between the
fairy isles of Ischia and Capri with a smooth and steady course into
the Bay of Naples.

How we watched, how we strained our eyes and wearied our arms with
poising the telescope to pry into the beauteous recesses of those
approaching shores! But now the night had fallen, and a dark and
spangled curtain threw its veil over the beauties we were gazing at,
and when we came to an anchor it was too profoundly dark for even the
imagination to take hints from surrounding forms. So we went to bed and
wished for day--for a day without clouds.

The next morning our dreams were realised. Vesuvius stood close before
us, solemnly breathing upwards his pillar of smoke.

Woods, with young plantations and viny hillocks, spread widely round
him. To the right a fair town stood on the brink of the sea, while
immediately behind it the steep mountains pushed their wooded peaks
into the sky. Far to the left, and out of sight, or indistinctly
discerned, lay Naples.

Soon a great number of Neapolitan boats came to the fleet to sell such
things as they who have been cooped up at sea buy greedily--bread,
fruit, game, and fish. Perhaps the parley thus obtained with these
interesting foreigners, and the opportunity to take small flights
in our grammar Italian, and to observe their dress, language, and
grotesque extravagance of sound and gesticulation, were more acceptable
to our curiosity than those dainties to our animal appetites.

We saw distinctly some parts of the great road to Naples, and it was
quite a natural pantomime to witness a conversation between parties
on the shore, perhaps discussing the object of our appearance and the
probability of our movements--far too distant to overhear any sound,
or see any minor hints of countenance or gesture. English folks,
so seen at a distance, might have hardly been distinguished from
statues or from trees. But the Italian’s body is a telegraph to the
distant observer while his tongue and countenance are reasoning with
his neighbour; now the orator, approaching his friend closely, with
face and hands concentering towards his breast, seizes his collar or
buttons, and shakes his arguments into his ears and mind with a gentle
tremulation, as one coaxes gooseberries into a bottle, and again, all
of a sudden, retrogrades from him, with head and hands and arms thrown
back to mark the irreconcilable extremity of his contradiction.

The day following, one of my brother officers repaired to our chief’s
ship, and they went on shore together.

On his return in the evening he excited our utmost envy, wonder, and
curiosity by giving us an account of his adventures.

In exploring the country they had come to a vine-clad hill, whose
farthest side ended in a precipitous bank scarped away by the hand of
labour; and spread out below, proceeding out of the bowels of the hill
on which they stood, they discovered an ancient Roman town in all its
unruined dimensions of streets and squares, theatres and barracks,
not gray with the hoar of antiquity, but with all its plastering and
painting fresh from the hands of the workmen. The painted borders of
the dwelling-rooms, the appropriate pictures of the ladies’ bath, the
soldiers’ names engraven rudely on the walls of their barracks, the
ruts worn by the Roman wheels, were all fresh despatched to us from
former ages.

Of this inestimable present Pliny had described the packing up, by an
eruption of Vesuvius, to which he was witness. It was only now half
unpacked, and we might yet be at the unpacking of the remainder.

I was ready to jump out of the ship to see with my own eyes these
incredible wonders, and when I could go, when I stood in these streets
and called, without knocking, upon one ancient Roman after another
(though it seemed hardly delicate to explore unbidden the private
chambers, whose painting and fresh preservation seemed to infer an
occupancy so recent) anticipation was beggared by the trance which that
reality imposed.

They show one such things in the Museum of Portici, that the idea of
imposture steals involuntarily upon the mind, but yet imposture is out
of the question. The king is the showman, and asks nothing for his
pains, nor is there any temptation to fabricate the commonest articles
of every-day use into the semblance of antiquity in the midst of such
a crowd of self-evident realities. Else, when I was shown an egg
with a part of the yolk oozing from the crack, looking exactly as if
boiled and cracked yesterday, a loaf of bread burnt to a cinder, and a
quantity of grain in the same condition, and was told that these things
had been baked by the hot ashes of Vesuvius and buried under them for
1700 years, my belief, I must confess, was a little shy. Yet I know not
that it is more wonderful with respect to an egg, a loaf, and a heap
of corn than with respect to the innumerable rolls of burnt manuscript
which we found Mr. Hayter so busy in unrolling with infinite patience
and ingenuity, the characters upon the charred papyrus being still
perfectly legible.

With respect to other things, vast quantities of tools and kitchen
utensils of every description, fit enough for modern use, also very
well wrought golden ornaments and elegant glass vessels of all
shapes--in these the interest was equally great, and the belief more
easy.

To me Herculaneum, the Museum of Portici, and above all Pompeii, were
objects of renewed visitation and inexhaustible interest; but far
beyond all these artificial curiosities my mind was absorbed by that
unutterable wonder of Nature whose irresistible devastations covered
and formed the country all around. Indeed the recent destructive
torrent yet bore upon its surface the shells of houses and habitations
whose inhabitants had been expelled or destroyed.

It seems strange that after all the ruin which this terrible mountain
has wrought with subterraneous thunder and ejected fire, the monuments
of which endure through ages to tell the people what he has done, yet
that all should be insufficient to frighten them away from his foot,
while with smoke and fire and inward groans he threatens them daily
with still further destruction. Nevertheless they hew the black vomit
of his entrails into building stones, and over the spot where the house
and its master were buried in a grave of fire do they build another
dwelling for another inhabitant.

A curiosity, partaking of religious awe, led me to its summit. I
had expected a peep into the mouth of the Inferno, a visible shaft,
plumb down into the fiery bowels of the earth, but no mysterious,
unfathomable gulf or chimney of the infernal foundry was to be seen.
Cracks, indeed, red and white with fire, burnt a good pair of Hoby’s
boots off my feet, as they crossed the region of the crater in every
direction, and with their sulphurous vapour nearly stifled us all.

_November 20._--At this time there was in the environs of Naples a
corps of Russians, understood to be 18,000 strong, but what the allies
might have hoped to achieve by uniting an Anglo-Russian force of 25,000
or 30,000 men with the native Neapolitan forces, which altogether might
pass perhaps in round numbers for an army of 50,000 or 60,000, it is
no part of my present object to retrace. The rapid progress of French
victory on the Continent would naturally make the hopes under which
the expedition left England perfectly inapplicable to the present
period. We had intended to assume grand operations in upper Italy in
conjunction with the main armies of Austria and Russia. But now it
seemed to be the general opinion that if the Anglo-Russian corps could
enable the Neapolitan army to protect the frontier of its Sovereign’s
dimensions, more could not be expected.

On the 30th November (and let it be remembered that this was two days
only before the overwhelming blow of the battle of Austerlitz) His
Neapolitan Majesty reviewed the British forces on a plain between
Castel-à-Mare and Naples. Many Russian officers were also on the
ground. The King, the Hereditary Prince, and Prince Leopold (then
about ten years old) arrived on horseback, the Queen in her carriage,
bringing with her old Cardinal Ruffo, who, presently descending, showed
us his red stockings. Old Ferdinand appeared in great glee, dressed in
a white uniform, with a large cocked hat, and his hair tied in a thick
queue. “Avançons, avançons, mon Général,” he said to Sir John Stuart,
who was leading him down the line. “Your troops are magnificent! your
Army is as fine as your Navy! Body of Bacchus, what an imposing front!”
cried the old monarch as he rode up to the Queen.

That elegant ruin, standing up in her carriage and addressing Sir John
Stuart, cried, “C’est superbe! magnifique! mon Général. Ce sont des
soldats dignes des Anglais, dignes de nos dieux tutélaires.”

She was now old and hazed, but her figure was erect and her mien
princely and graceful. Her form had not yet lost all its original
brightness, nor appeared less than a queen in ruins.

The line now broke into column, and passed the King and Queen in
reviewing order. All on the ground, even the Russian officers,
were loud in praise of the appearance of our troops, and certainly
3000 soldiers never formed a more complete and warlike line. I was
much amused with the juvenile Prince Leopold, who, dressed like a
little field-marshal, and mounted on a superb little charger, richly
caparisoned, as often as the officers saluted his Royal parent, lifted
the cocked hat from his flaxen head (displaying a queue thicker than
his father’s) with a grace the most measured and majestic. Before the
Royal party left the ground the wintry sun approached the western wave
and blazed upon the brass plates and steely muskets of the soldiers,
which Coleridge, who dined with us afterwards, called “a beautiful
accident,” and clothed in poetic phrase.

We were a good deal struck with the Royal equipage. It was an old
shabby carriage drawn by six miserable horses, tied together with
ropes, very ill representing, to our English eyes, the eight proud
cream-coloured Hanoverians and the gilded trappings which attach them
to the splendid vehicle of our own Sovereign.

_December 10._--Early in December the restriction which kept us from
visiting the capital was removed. Whether the motive had been to
prevent our collision with our Russian confederates quartered in its
environs, or whether French employees were still to be temporised
with, I neither knew nor inquired. The army began its march to the
frontier, and we who had duties still to perform in the neighbourhood
of Naples freely satisfied our curiosity by frequent excursions to that
interesting place.

Many paternal admonitions did we younger ones receive from the
well-versed poet Coleridge to beware of the temptations of Naples, to
beware the

    Nods and becks and wreathed smiles,
    Quips and pranks and wanton wiles,

which would beckon us in every street, and chiefly to beware of the
duchesses and princesses, for, said he, “The higher the rank the
greater the danger.” But I think a youth who has learned to pass
unharmed through the streets of London may be trusted in any town in
Europe, for all the world is honest to the honest.

One day I went to the Theatre of St. Carlos, and while yet in the
lobby my ears were imprisoned by a strain that seemed vocal indeed, but
like no human voice which I had ever heard, too potent for woman, too
clear and silvery for man.

On coming in sight of the stage the appearance of the divine songster
corresponded to the perplexity of his voice--most fair and graceful
to behold, but yet neither manly nor effeminate. This was that very
Velluti, amongst the triumphs of whose unequalled talents it is not the
least that they have prevailed upon the rugged Londoners to acknowledge
the wondrous beauty of his celestial melody.

Before leaving Naples I saw there a great many of the things which
ought to be seen, and can say truly that _I saw them_, and to be able
to say this, is, I believe, the commonest reason for going to see them.

_December 22._--We were now on the march to Sepia, whither the army
had gone to assume a defensive position. I had procured a handsome and
excellent horse at Naples, whose round and well-fed back exactly fitted
my English caparisons, and which soon acquired the name of Napolitanno;
never man had a gentler or a better steed, and it redoubled the
animation with which I looked to be immediately committed in actual
service with the enemy to find myself mounted on so comely and spirited
an animal.

Active service, however, for the present was not to be our lot, for
before our duties near Naples permitted us to reach the army on march
to the frontier, our commanding officer[2] rejoined us in haste, and
set all hands at work to delineate the position of Castel-à-Mare, and
to produce so exact a military plan of that bold promontory as would
enable him to show fully to the Commander-in-Chief in what way it might
be best occupied to cover the embarkation of the troops in presence of
an enemy.

As one of the first objects of Napoleon after the battle of Austerlitz
was the extinction of the Bourbon Crown of Naples and the occupation of
the kingdom, no doubt it was become necessary for a British commander,
committed upon the soil of that kingdom, to secure a position behind
him, under cover of which he might in any event command his embarkation.

Sir James Craig, however, subsequently resolved (and indeed the
well-known state of the Continent left him no alternative) not to wait
till his little army came in contact with the overwhelming legions of
France, but to embark without delay.

The Royal family also resolved not to trust themselves too near to an
irritated foe, but to transfer the Court of Ferdinand to Palermo.

The great and ready skill therefore with which the wild and noble
features of Castel-à-Mare had been applied to the purposes of military
defence, and the zealous and unwearied pains with which we had
portrayed and mapped out the fastnesses of these rugged mountains, were
of no avail beyond that of scientific practice, as the Anglo-Russian
army, long before the proximity of the enemy could communicate any
hurry to its operations, quietly embarked where it had landed, and
sailed for Sicily.

_December 30._--A great many horses which had been purchased for the
field equipage of the army were left at Castel-à-Mare for want of
means of transport, and for lack of some better arrangement they were
successively turned loose into a large enclosure belonging to the
dockyard. A scene took place among them very painful to witness, but
yet highly picturesque. They were of both sexes, and consequently the
most fierce and disastrous contests began amongst the males, whilst
their iron heels armed them against each other with more than natural
power, and soon these noble animals were disfigured by painful wounds,
disabled limbs, and blood.

To have shot them as was done at Corunna would have been much more
humane.

_December 31._--It was evening at the very close of the year 1805 when
we set sail, and night when we beheld the volcanic blaze of Stromboli
flash across the dark sea and disclose by fits the isles of Lipari.

Morning unveiled to us the features of those neighbouring shores, now
narrowing more and more the gulf into which we were sailing, until they
form that narrow and rapid sea that parts Calabria from the Trinacrian
coast.

The view of Sicily apparent at this time, though not without beauty, is
kept in complete subjection to the rich and lofty magnificence of the
Italian shore, whose mountains, topped with cliff and clothed with wood
and vine, come steep from sky to sea, with nought between but a border
of golden sand, interrupted here and there by peaks and masses of rock
for ever washed by the sapphire sea.

On one of these sandy bays, and quite at the foot of these rich and
lofty mountains, lies the little town of Scylla and its boat-covered
beach, then the main promontory flings a longer slope towards the
sea, terminating the beach of Scylla and suddenly forming itself into
the abrupt, naked, and primeval rock on which the castle of Scylla is
erected.

This is the Scylla on which ships might run that would too anxiously
avoid the whirlpool of Charybdis.

After passing the Faro of Messina, whereof Scylla forms one of the
confines, the Sicilian shore assumes a bolder and richer form, till
at length the romantic seat of Messina itself rivals the grandeur of
the opposite scenery, and grafts upon the beauties of Nature somewhat
of the proud aspect of metropolitan magnificence. I say this while
surveying Messina from the azure bosom of her river-like sea, for her
real magnificence has passed away, and her streets of palaces stand
in ruins to this hour. But for the painter’s object no harm is done.
The rich façades of elaborate architecture are standing entire, and
their want of substance on the other side is concealed by the dense
town behind, and the castle-crowned heights above, tier above tier of
church or convent, each showing its firm footing upon the natural and
luxuriant earth; the whole background is finished and filled up by
mountains richly clothed with the verdure of dwarf wood and perennial
flowers, the heavenly atmosphere ever glistening above and over all
things. Nothing on this earth, I should say, can exceed the outward
beauty of Messina.

1806.--It must have been about the middle of January when we entered
the harbour, an immense round basin, enclosed by a curved tongue of
level land jutting out from the line of coast like the blade of a
sickle, from which it is said the town derives its name; the point of
the sickle, terminating when at a short distance from the main shore,
leaves only a narrow entrance into the harbour, which is defended by a
fort established on the sickle point.

From every wind and every sea this harbour is perfectly sheltered
and secure, but as the narrowness of its entrance makes it sometimes
operose for vessels to go in and out, the ships of war and those which
expect to be soon for sea anchor in the road outside.

The transports were moored close to each other, the ships of war
anchored in the roadstead. The troops were kept on board, but the
officers after a time were allowed to go on shore and look about them.

A few days afterwards the troops were disembarked, and we were soon
established in the Convent of St. Francisco di Paolo.

[Illustration]

The legend which conveys the tradition of this convent’s foundation is
in various situations rudely represented on the walls, and consists
of a man sailing across a narrow sea, with no other vessel, sail, or
mast than such as his capôte and walking-staff would furnish. This was
St. Francisco di Paolo, who in that miraculous manner is said to have
passed over from Scylla to the spot whereon this convent was erected.
Our accommodations here were not splendid, but such as we could enjoy
after the confinement of shipboard. The monks were civil and obliging
though poor, and the abbot presented us with some rich Calabrian wine
that might have passed for cherry brandy.

It was now immediately the business of our Commandant[3] to place
the city of Messina in a respectable state of defence, for as it was
certain that the other side of the Straits would soon be occupied by
the legions of Napoleon, Messina, which was to be the grand depot
and headquarters of the British army, must be placed beyond the
apprehension of surprise.

The military position of Messina is by nature extremely defective, and
though the existing defences were not in all points the most judicious
that could have been devised, yet were they of sufficient importance
to incline our Chief to adopt the principle of improving what already
existed, rather than that of substituting new ones. These works at
Messina, extending to forts occupying the heights adjacent to the town,
and overlooking the eddies of Charybdis and the castle and rock of
Scylla, tended to bring me again and again, and for hours and hours,
in contact with the lovely environs of Messina, whose charms are more
indelibly imprinted on my memory than those of any other place in the
world. We soon moved from the convent into the town, where we occupied
a good house opposite to the quarters of the Commander-in-Chief.

_March._--This change of quarters gave me a commodious opportunity of
seeing the reception of old King Ferdinand by his Messinese subjects.
He had come from Palermo to Melazzo by sea, and from Melazzo (by advice
of his Minister) had made his progress on horseback, so that he arrived
at Messina miserably fatigued and covered with the dust and soil of
travel. Yet the reception he met with from these loyal Sicilians was
enough to revive him. In the mid-tide of the dense flood of bareheaded
people, he and his horse were borne along down the principal street;
on one side was Sir James Craig bowing in his balcony, and under the
windows the vast crowd concentered their faces towards the King, so
that in front of him they moved backwards and behind him they moved
forwards, facing him on either side. And never in all my life of twenty
years did I behold so touching an exhibition of the passion of loyalty.

The good-natured and kindly-mannered but wearied and worn old man, in
the midst of his thanks and nods and brief salutations, was begging in
some degree for quarter as they thronged about him, and while anxious
to gratify their desire of touching him by extending his hands and
suffering their pressure on his legs and knees, kept begging they would
let him move on, that he might come to a place of rest.

Meantime they rent the air with their “Vivas,” and ever as he passed,
a new concourse of knees was seen to bend, and picturesque and eager
heads were bowed around him, pressing devout and reverent kisses on his
legs or hands, the skirts of his coat, or the housings of his charger.

Never shall I forget the scene. In vain they might have talked to me of
the weakness and tyranny of his reign, or of his misrule and neglect of
these very subjects. He was their old and lawful king, now seen for the
first time in the pressure of misfortune and in the weariness of that
journey he had made to inquire of their disposition towards him. And
this was their beautiful answer. They received him with embraces, with
loud benedictions, with kisses and genuflexions, which plainly told
him they remembered nothing but the sacred bond between him and them,
endeared to them the more by his age and evil fortune and his struggle
for independence.

At length, though to all appearance (and as I was afterwards credibly
informed) deeply touched by this perhaps unexpected scene, he was glad
enough to be got into his quarters, opposite to which a magnificent
façade of a triumphal temple had been erected for the scaffolding of
fireworks to be displayed before him.

At night forth he came bareheaded into the balcony which fronted the
street, and after saluting the immense concourse of his shouting
subjects, he discharged a rocket, which was guided by a wire-conductor
into the centre of that gorgeous temple, and immediately it was living
all about with quivering fire. No description can paint the succession
of glorious shapes which, amid the clear darkness of an Italian night,
animated that palace of fire, and at length, like the finale of grand
concerts, every part became such a volcano of fiery gems, and fountains
of burning spray, and whirlpools of dazzling stars, that I could not
refrain from joining in the shouts of ecstasy.

In honour also of the King’s arrival, the most celebrated and costly
of all their religious processions was anticipated. This was the
procession of the Anima (or soul, as I understood) of the Virgin Mary;
but as I know nothing of its origin and but little of its symbolical
intention, I will not attempt any description.

_April 1806._--In this climate it is essential to the expeditious
progress of works to take the earliest advantage of daylight, while
the air is for several hours cool and the sun still low and feeble.
Accordingly we had to be up and dressed before five o’clock.

It happened one morning about this time, when I was buckling on my
sword and about to sally forth, that the floor began to shake under
my feet. A violent rattling of doors and windows was heard all over
the house, and bits of plaister began to shower from the ceiling.
I was presently sensible that we were experiencing the shock of
an earthquake; and as it seemed to increase in violence and to be
accompanied by violent cries of human distress, I opened my door
in some haste, and immediately beheld some Sicilian inmates of the
house, just as they had sprung from their slumbers, scouring along the
passages and making for the stairs. I followed, and beheld the issuing
from every room of persons of every age and sex, who were racing down
the stairs, with no thought but of present danger, and seemingly
unconscious of the exposure of themselves and of each other.

Signor Scamporaccio, the Padrone di Casa, partaking at first of the
general terror, and having sprung downstairs like a wild cat and
secured himself under a strong archway that issued into the street,
of which shelter he urged me to partake, then began to grin at the
preposterous figures of his descending lodgers, and especially pointed
my attention to the unadorned dismay of a fat old lady, a relation
of his wife, whom he sportively called “La Baronessa.” She was of
immense breadth and weight, and yet came howling downstairs full trot.
On looking into the street, the general terror was too real and too
energetic to be ludicrous. The people fell upon their knees wherever
they happened to be, some prostrate and laying their foreheads in the
dust, some, with frantic hands and uplifted voices, addressing heaven
with the frenzied cry of hasty deprecation.

From that posture and from that earnest importunity no creature rose or
desisted until the earth had ceased to shake and her houses to rend and
groan.

So violent a shock had not been felt for years. The upper part of the
spire of the Madre Chiesa was thrown down, and some other buildings
materially injured. Every ship at anchor, and some sailing in the mid
strait, felt the violence of the shock, but happily there was no injury
to human life.

A slighter shock in the course of the day frightened the soldiers from
their work on the heights, and still more some Sicilian overseers from
the duties of superintendence.

Looking at the ruins with which Messina is surrounded, and knowing
them to be the fruits of a dreadful earthquake that caused the loss
of thousands of lives, it is impossible not to sympathise with the
undissembled terror of these poor Sicilians whenever the tremulous
earth reminds them of her instability, for they conceive it to be
the angry hand of God shaking over them with menaces of vengeance,
and their cries are no less vehement and abrupt than the cries and
entreaties of a child at the uplifted rod of a parent.

_April 1806._--Sir James Craig now published a farewell order to the
army. The new Minister of War (of Mr. Fox’s Administration) had written
most flatteringly to him, assuring him that all had been in perfect
accordance with their views, and now that the army was in security and
comfort, he could resign the command with less regret.

He had long borne up against the pressure of severe disease, in the
honourable hope of directing the courage of his men and witnessing
their victories, but now he was sensible that he owed it to them to
make way for a commander whose zeal might be equal to his own, and
whose activity sickness had not impaired. He gave much praise to
the quality of the troops, whose discipline had certainly been much
advanced by his personal exertions.

The necessity of this resignation had long been painfully obvious to
the army, not by any faults of discipline, but by the ghastly and
suffering appearance of our revered commander, who was much respected
and regretted by every branch of the army.

Towards the end of April our Commandant was sent to ascertain the
strength of the places on this side of the island, giving particular
attention to Augusta and Syracuse, and about four days afterwards I was
ordered to follow him.

One of my brother-officers good-naturedly lent me a beautiful donkey he
had brought from Valetta to carry my servant and _malle_.

My pride at starting, mounted on the sleek and spirited Napolitanno,
and preceding Il Bruto Domenico and the ass, was somewhat quenched by
the drenching rain in which we set forward, and soon received another
fall in the person of Domenico, seen sprawling in the mire, and the
donkey at large.

The ass, however, was of infinitely more importance to me than his
rider, so I left Domenico and pursued the animal myself.

After this little _fracas_ the long-eared rebel was more amenable,
and Domenico dare only curse him under his breath, for fear he
should repeat the somersault, so that my meditations were no longer
interrupted either by the pranks of the four-legged or the deep
execrations of the two-legged brute. Furthermore, the day cleared, and
the sea and sky and fertile land were lighted up, and reawakened the
sanguine glance of youthful expectation which the rain had in some
degree depressed. The road is impassable for wheels; its situation is
invariably by the seaside, with mountains on the other hand, which
sometimes barely leave room for the road. In other places the wintry
torrents have formed, as it were, the opening jaws of a deep and rugged
ravine, called in this country _Fiumara_.

Again the bold heights approach the very border of the ocean, and
sometimes a rocky promontory obstructs the level beach, and plants
a firm broad foot in the midst of the waves. In this case it has
been necessary to pass over or to cut through the obstruction. The
rocky point of Scaletta traverses the beach as with a wall, and the
road ascends into the gorge of the natural rock, which rises like a
watch-tower on either side, affording such a post of observance and
defence as, if properly used, might check a mighty army.

I proposed halting for the night at Taormina, thirty or forty miles
from Messina, and soon viewed it in the distance, seated in the clouds
on the table of a lofty mountain between two enormous peaks of rock, on
the highest of which is a dark old castle.

On arriving at the foot of this mountain, a sentinel stopped me where
the gate of the town is constructed, and on finding I was an English
officer on duty, directed me to the convent of the Capuchins.

I had permitted Domenico to take up his quarters at a miserable hut
on the beach, where he was fortunate enough to find provender, partly
to spare the donkey the pain of carrying him and my portmanteau up so
toilsome an ascent, and also in the hope that my baggage might gain
a little advance in the morning’s march, and thus I began to ascend
into the clouds alone, worn with heat and travel, and oppressed with a
growing and, I fear, somewhat puerile sadness.

After a long and wearisome ascent, I had left the brightness and
interest of the world behind me, and had entered an atmosphere which
enveloped every object in a thick gray mist.

On reaching the convent of Capuchins, a dead man might have given
me a more cheering welcome than I received from the spiritless and
hair-clothed superior.

One of his bleak eyes looked full upon me and into me, while the other
seemed employed in looking round me and beyond me.

On learning my object he assented with a slow scowl of sullen
indifference, and without any pause or gesture indicating the smallest
courtesy, he briefly told one of his subordinates to show me a vacant
cell. I believe the rules of this order bind them to wretchedness,
and they extend them to the stranger that is within their gates, for
they offered me no refreshment, and mentioned no refectory. The cell
appointed me was naked, windowless, bedless, a bedding of straw being
all it afforded.

Never before or since have I felt the heart within me oppressed and
borne down by so dense and palpable a gloom--unmanly, to be sure,
I felt it to be. “What ails me?” said I; “what is the grievance?
Shelter is here to-night, to-morrow there lies the way, and food can
be procured. ‘Why art thou cast down, O my soul, and why art thou
disquieted within me?’”

No answer could be given, but the questions were not asked in vain. I
began to turn my displeasure from the monks to myself, and presently
recovered a more hardy tone of mind. I left the convent and went into
the little square of the town. The mountain cloud had dispersed, and
a party of Sicilian loungers attracted me to the shop of a little
fruiterer, where I bespoke some dinner, and learned with joy they could
accommodate me with a bed, which I greatly preferred to returning to
the convent.

Whilst dinner was getting ready I walked out to look about me and to
summon a cicerone to my aid, that I might see the remarkable Roman
antiquities for which this place is famous. I then, though very tired,
placed myself in the hands of the voluble cicerone, who took me to the
large ancient theatre, finely situated in a basin or natural crater
formed in the summit of the mountain.

A hasty view would at that moment have satisfied me, for I was weary
and wanted food, but when I would have gone away the cicerone forcibly
detained me, and placing me in the remotest ring of the vast auditory,
proceeded leisurely to the stage and began a long oration, ridiculous
in itself, but illustrating how well the situation was calculated to
carry the voice of the actor to the remotest spectator. Reluctant as I
was to interrupt so remarkable and novel an exhibition as a Sicilian
peasant spouting to my solitary self in the midst of the lonely
mountains from the ruins of a Roman stage, it lasted so long that I was
compelled to cut it short, telling him I could have fancied him a shade
of the Roman Roscius, a name he appeared well acquainted with, and with
a low bow attributed the comparison to my excellency’s goodness.

On returning to my little hotel I found dinner ready, after which I
went to the convent stables to see to my horse; and the bed that I made
for him not a little astonished the friar who admitted me, and from
curiosity, I suppose, observed, and to a certain extent assisted, my
operations. “Such a bed,” he informed me, “was something too luxurious
even for a good Christian.” He said no more, but his look added, what
must it be for a heretic’s horse.

Napolitanno, however, who was grinding his provender with great
animation, and making his eloquent ears thank me for my present
attention to his couch, seemed to have no fault to find with my
handiwork, and to promise me a fresh horse for to-morrow.

My bed also was clean and comfortable, and I slept intensely, rose
early, and mounting the gay and gentle Napolitanno, descended slowly
towards the sea, through the hanging orchards and gardens of Taormina,
my mind and body equally refreshed, and forgetful of yesterday’s
depression.

    On morning wings how active springs the mind,
    And leaves the load of yesterday behind.

Soon after traversing the beach which extends from the foot of
Taormina, the road has to make its way (and badly enough it makes it)
over the rugged skirts of Mount Etna, or as the natives call it, more
euphoniously, Monzebello.

These extreme skirts of the mountain consist of various eddies and
whirlpools of different dates of lava, whose black, rough substance is
scantily covered by the slowly accumulating soil, seldom sufficient to
ensure a clothing of vegetation, the black and naked rock forming a
vivid contrast to the brightest verdure.

The pretty town of Jaci, by its elegant and regular structure and air
of opulence, takes the traveller by surprise after the unpromising
waste he has traversed. It seems built almost entirely of the dark and
durable material which the mountain furnishes as a poor compensation
for his wide wasting destruction.

And now after a long and weary ride the clustering domes and spires
of Catania rise upon our track, with a promise of splendour and
magnificence for which the pretty and prosperous Jaci was but little
preparation.

I was astonished at the grandeur of design and costly style of building.

The principal street, of vast width, seems to have one extremity in the
ocean, and the other lost in the ascent of the stupendous mountain,
whose fiery summit it seems to approach with an avenue of temples and
palaces.

What an effect have place and scene upon the sensitive spirits of
youth! At Taormina I felt abandoned and cast out from the beauties of
the civilised world, whereas here in beautiful Catania I felt as if
everything were my own, and that the sky was bright, the sea blue, the
mountain awful, and the city splendid--all for me; and in good and
grateful part did I accept of it.

No king could be happier than I, when, having seen my horse comfortably
served, I ascended into the best parlour of the Golden Lion, and
with my eyes upon the noble buildings of the square, sat down to a
well-cooked dinner and a flask of the rich white wine of Etna. After
dinner, leaving this fair city with regret, I pursued my journey
towards Augusta. On this side the mountain throws a mantle of sloping
woods, and becomes more and more level and in the nature of open
pasture as it approaches the deep and rapid Giarreta, which we pass
in a ferry, and over which few Sicilians would believe it possible to
construct a bridge.[4]

Augusta enjoys the advantages of Mediterranean sea and sky, but, _au
reste_, not Hartlepool nor Skegness are less indebted to soil or
surface. The town, though regular, is meanly built, and occupies a
peninsula fortified towards the land.

The bay, however, is of noble extent, and by its firm anchorage and
easy access affords a fine rendezvous for large fleets employed in
these seas. Here Lord Nelson watered previous to the battle of the
Nile. I slept in the large convent of the Augustines, close to the
seaside, where the prior and monks assured me it was their greatest
pride to have entertained the great Nelson within their walls, of whose
glory they were perfectly enamoured.

The cheerful urbanity and comforting welcome of these good Augustines
made me forget the Capuchins of Taormina, and I must say in all the
many convents in which I have taken up my quarters I never experienced
but that one unpleasant reception.

The Governor of Augusta, on whom I necessarily waited with my
credentials, was very polite, spoke of Captain Lefebure in the style
sublime, and finding I must start in the morning for Syracuse, insisted
that I should come that evening to his conversazione.

A good many people of both sexes and the higher officers of his
garrison were assembled to stare at the Giovane Inglese, and for an
hour or two it answered my purpose very well. I had no objection to be
looked at, but liked looking at others still better, always taking a
greater interest in people than in lifeless things.

I slept comfortably at the convent, and was on horseback early in the
morning.

The ride to Syracuse is not particularly interesting along the shores
of the Bay of Augusta, and after ascending the promontory which bounds
the bay to the south, the road no longer finds accommodation by the
seaside, but makes its way more deviously over hill and dell until
it approaches the obverse side of that dilated rock which shelters
Syracuse and its harbour from the blustering north. Upon an extended
table of this ridge lie the ruins of the ancient city of Syracuse, and
as the road ascends, the naked rock is tracked in deep ruts by the
carriages which trafficked with the ancient Syracusans, just as ruts
are deeply worn in the more frequented streets of Pompeii.

The present town and harbour of Syracuse, with its lovely vale
stretching far into the west, are finely seen from the heights over
which you approach it.

The peninsula on which the town stands divides the harbour into two
compartments.

The grand harbour to the south and west is one of the most beautiful in
the world. The other is of little importance except in a military point
of view.

The fortifications, houses, and churches of Syracuse are all formed of
the beautiful stone[5] of which its great northern screen consists,
and in consequence of these vast quarries and excavations, ancient
and modern, nothing can be more abruptly broken and scarped than the
environs of this fortress.

The land front is finely and elaborately executed with magnificent
gateways; the town is dense and unequal; the cathedral an ancient
temple (I believe of Minerva), whose Christian front acts as a garish
mask to its ancient heathen sides.

I presently found my friend Lefebure, who received me with joy, and
after giving me some account of his proceedings, took me to the good
old Governor. “I know not whom this Governor takes me for,” said
Lefebure, “but he really overwhelms me with honours; his coach is
always dodging me wherever I go, and when I consent to take a little
tour into the country, he mounts upon the box, with all the decorations
of his rank and symbols of his power, and drives me himself. I am half
dead with the variety and quantity he makes me eat, and bewildered with
the daily company of barons and princes, baronesses and princesses,
with their dark eyes and soft accents, so articulate and intelligible,
and yet to which I dare hardly attempt to reply.”

“Well,” I replied, “this does not sound to me so distressing as you
represent. I am glad I am come to your relief. This noble governor
shall stuff _me_ now with good things and drive _me_ in his coach, and
_I_ will now listen to the soft accents of the dark-eyed Principessas,
and expose myself to their smiles at my blundering answers. So _have_
with you, Lefebure; take me to the Governor; we shall be in time for
his dinner.”

“Oh,” he rejoined, “don’t distress yourself. We are both engaged
already to dine with him to meet a hundred people. But it will be taken
well if I present you to him first.” So away we went. The Governor,
a good, solicitous old soul, was of course charmed with the Bravo
Giovinetto, and offered everything within and without his power both to
me and to Lefebure.

The number of the people at dinner could only, I think, be exceeded by
the number of the dishes, and when I found the order of proceeding,
I no longer wondered at the surfeit complained of by the temperate
Lefebure, for the Governor, having relaxed his girdle and tied a napkin
under his chin, surrounded by laughing beauties ready to applaud every
word he spoke and every morsel he distributed, sent in succession for
every dish, and having divided it absolutely and unsparingly into
portions, it was carried round, and if any one failed to taste, the
wail and lament of apprehended sickness was raised around him, and some
sweet princess with bewitching eyes loaded his plate with her own fair
hands.

I am not aware that English people can quite realise the ease and
good-humour and incessant but not unpolished mirth with which this
great dinner from beginning to end was accomplished. And but for that,
I hardly believe the economy of man would be able to dispose of such
sudden and copious supplies as were then thrown into his system.

Well it was the Governor, after dinner, took us in his carriage to show
us his points of vantage without the town, for to walk would have been
very inconvenient!

The worthy Governor of Syracuse was not the only person prodigal of
attention and kindness to the two English officers.

There then lived upon a beautiful farm in the midst of the vale an
English gentleman of considerable genius and learning, whose energy of
character and acuteness of judgment, and the application of English
skill to a Sicilian soil, had given him a very powerful ascendency over
the population within his reach. Equally a master of the language, from
the Tuscan tongue to the dissonant jargon of the Sicilian peasant, his
tall, athletic, but not ungraceful figure, and his intelligent and
finely-featured head made him no ill representative, among foreigners,
of the personal predominance of an Englishman.

I had met him at Valetta, where he had opened an acquaintance with me
by accusing me of some resemblance to Lady Hamilton. He immediately
remembered the circumstance, and perhaps even so slight a thread acted
as a bond of old acquaintance. Yet there is a stronger bond than that
which draws one to a countryman in a foreign land.

My Anglo-Sicilian friend showed Lefebure and me how truly he felt this
by the unbounded kindness and grateful hospitality he extended to
us, and his handsome, noble-hearted wife received us with a smile of
welcome that was redolent of home.

Our fare was studiously English, and to our delighted eyes appeared the
effect of magic.

There was the burnished brown of the small fillet of veal, the small
smoked ham, cauliflower, potatoes, and melted butter; the household
loaf of barm-raised bread as white as snow; the ample slice of
fresh-churned butter, not lard of goat’s milk, but yellow butter,
from the breathy cow. And then the bubbling and loud-hissing urn, the
presiding lady, plates of real bread-and-butter, and genuine tea,
attempered with thick cream!

No one untried in travel can imagine with how keen a zest a robust
English appetite returns to these wholesome and ordinary provisions of
his country in lands where he has no hope of meeting with them.

On our return to Messina we simply retraced our steps, and met with
nothing remarkable, so I give no account of our journey of 120 miles.

       *       *       *       *       *

It was about the second week in May when Lefebure and I arrived at
Messina, and on the 25th of that month our force received a valuable
acquisition by the arrival of the 78th Regiment of Highlanders, a
beautiful regiment, 900 strong, whose picturesque national dress made
a great impression upon the Sicilians, though the women, indeed,
seemed to think it due to modesty to say the dress was very ugly. “La
Baronessa” also maintained “It was an ugly dress, and a very curious
dress, and a very curious thing that such a dress should be approved of
in England, which she thought was a cold country.” The arrival of this
regiment gave us the more satisfaction, as rumours were afloat that Sir
John Stuart would take advantage of his interregnum to do some dashing
thing.

A great sensation was created by the resolute defence which the old
Prince of Hesse Philipstahl continued to make at Gaeta.

Our Gilespie had been sent to his assistance, and was well qualified
by his knowledge of the language, his military science, and his daring
constancy of character both to assist the brave Prince in his defence,
and to give true information and sagacious comments to the British
general.

Sir Sidney Smith, the naval Commander-in-Chief, came to Messina
immediately from the scene of action. He had brought with him a plan
of Gaeta and of the French approaches, which he wished to have copied,
and being well acquainted with the commanding engineer, requested his
assistance for that purpose. Our Commandant brought the plan to me to
copy, and said, “When you’ve finished the plan, Boothby, you will like
an opportunity of becoming acquainted with the hero of Acre. You will
admire him of all things, but be sure when you see him, he will take
you to Acre.”

Accordingly I copied the plan with my best skill and despatch, and
then carried it on board. I had to wait a considerable time. At length
I was summoned into the Admiral’s presence. He held the plan in his
hand, and good-humouredly said, “So, sir, you are the young officer
who has had the goodness to copy this for me. Well now, sir, just look
here. They pretend to tell me that this place is indefensible--_me_,
who know pretty well what determined hearts can do behind very simple
barriers--who have seen a handful of men behind the angle of a wall
bid defiance to the bravest troops led on by the first general in the
world--I mean Mr. Bonaparte at Acre. Tally-ho! said I.”

I was really in pain lest a smile should be detected on my features,
which would have seemed to belie my sincere admiration for the gallant
spirit in whose presence I stood, and that anxiety gave me an air of
deeper attention to the inferences of strength and capability of Gaeta
which he drew from the defence of Acre.

And it is well known that the brave old Prince of Hesse fully justified
these inferences by the spirit and duration of his resistance.

The gallant Sir Sidney then repaired to the Court of Palermo, into
which the defence of Gaeta and the mountain spirit of the Calabrese
were infusing vain hopes, vain aims, and inordinate desires.

Old Ferdinand, who had entrusted Sir John Stuart with the defence of
the east coast of Sicily from Milazzo to Cape Passaro, now invested
Sir Sidney Smith with viceregal power by land and sea in the territory
of Naples, and the whole persuasive power of the Court, and I suppose
of the chivalrous viceroy, was then addressed to excite the British
general to hazardous enterprise, but probably the natural ambition of
his own brave breast was the strongest advocate.

The floating viceroy adroitly disarmed any jealousy which his powers
might have excited in the breast of the land commander by saying,
“This appointment would have been more suitable for you, but I made no
difficulty about it, thinking it a great object that _one_ of us should
have it, and the whole powers of the commission are quite as much at
your disposal as if your name had been placed in it instead of mine.”

The phrase ran, “How nicely Sir Sidney had got himself made viceroy,”
but I can easily believe, remembering their worship of Nelson, that
it was a much easier thing for the King and Queen to give such a
commission to a renowned naval officer, whom they might view as
Nelson’s successor, than to a British general.

Sir John Stuart, however, had too much sense to care a straw about it.
He saw here an opportunity of glory, and however circumstances might
fail of their promise, he saw at all events a justification of the
hazard, and he was no more to be daunted by the sense of responsibility
than of danger.

I was in great terror lest I should not be included in this
heart-stirring expedition, but I was soon put out of suspense.

All the arrangements being complete and the fleet ready to sail, Sir
John Stuart, in order to gain the advance of it, drove with one A.D.C.
in his barouche to the point of Faro, and then embarked in a ship of
war on the evening of the 30th of June 1806. We were watching him from
our quarters opposite when he stepped into his barouche. Never man,
I thought, seemed better pleased with what he was about, or looked
more to personate the spirit of enterprise. A nice military figure, he
jumped gaily into his carriage, laughing with his aide-de-camp, and
nodding kindly, drolly, and significantly to the vivaing Messinese,
who, notwithstanding the profoundest secrecy, had a pretty good guess
what he was after, drove rapidly off.

_June 30._--We then embarked when the fleet was already getting under
way.

No happiness is greater to a young soldier than the high expectation
attending an expedition of this kind. The great things he looks forward
to are close at hand; there is no prospect of protracted toil and
uncertain pursuit, but in the full vigour and freshness of his strength
he moves quietly and swiftly to his object on the silent waters,
expecting every moment to fall like a thunderbolt on the astonished
foe. Several hours during this interesting night, big with expectation
and imagining the eventful future, did I walk the deck, contrasting the
present fair heaven, refreshing sea, and noiseless vessels with the
dire principles of destruction and slaughter within them. Wistfully
I looked toward the bold outline of the Italian shore, on which the
condensing fleet was bearing with unflagging wing, and wondered how
soon the hour of action and of glory could begin.

About midnight on the 30th June we came to an anchor in the Bay of St.
Eufemia, and an order was immediately passed through the fleet that the
troops should land at two in the morning.

A heavy surf upon an open beach made this operation difficult, but
it was effected without loss and without opposition. A vast plain
with much cover of brushwood extended from the beach to the receding
mountains.

It began to be believed that no enemy was near, but upon the Light
Infantry running forward a firing commenced, which continued in a sort
of bush-fight the greater part of the morning. The enemy consisted
of about 300 Polish sharpshooters scattered about in a very thick
brushwood. They did their duty well, retiring as we advanced. No
fox-hunters after a long frost could appear to enjoy their sport more
keenly than our soldiers as they ran at the enemy with shouts and cries
of delight. The event of the day was some 20 of the enemy wounded, 2
officers and 100 men taken prisoners. We had only one man wounded.

The army now took up a position on the high ground in advance of the
place of landing, one flank upon the town of Nicastro, the other
below the village of St. Eufemia, whilst at the same time it was
thought prudent to throw up an entrenchment on the beach, under cover
of which an embarkation might be effected, should the pressure of
superior numbers or unforeseen disasters render a retreat to our ships
desirable. Sir John Stuart expressed surprise at the celerity with
which this service was performed.

During the whole of this long day, and part of the next, the reports
concerning the enemy were various. One prisoner (a Gascon) answered
gaily to the question of number, “Oh, a trifle; some 27,000 or 30,000.”
But towards evening on the 2nd of July it was discovered that an
enemy’s force had occupied the heights overlooking the plains of
Maida. The lights of the enemy exhibited at night extended along a
considerable front, and a rumour prevailed that he intended battle.

On the 3rd some information was obtained of the strength of the enemy,
and it was rated so low as between 2000 and 3000. At night the order of
march was given to commence at two o’clock, our General being probably
anxious to come to blows before the enemy should have collected his
full strength; but whilst the order of march was forming, an important
reinforcement of several thousand (as we have since learned) arrived in
the enemy’s lines.

If this reinforcement had not arrived, the opposing forces would have
been nearly equal. As it was, Sir John Stuart, at daybreak on the 4th
of July, with about 4000 men, found himself in presence of 7500 of the
best troops of France.

To my eternal regret, I was not present at the battle. My mind was in
a state of curiosity and high expectation, and when I received the
order to remain behind, though aware of its necessity and justice, my
disappointment was childish and excessive.

An entrenchment which we had thrown up on the beach required still
to be completed, and our Chief was very anxious to strengthen it by
an inundation, for which the mouth of a small rivulet offered great
facilities. He felt it necessary to entrust an officer with the
execution of his intentions, and as junior officer (in that spirit of
perfect fairness with which he always treats us) he selected me, and
sent me strict orders not to leave the spot until duly relieved. There
was a high square tower at a short distance from our entrenchment,
which was occupied by four companies of Watteville’s regiment under
Major Fischer, who had remained to protect the point of debarkation.

By the time some sound of cannon announced the approaching conflict of
the two armies, my inundation wanted little of completion, and my men
were well under the observance of this tower.

From hence, therefore, with the veteran Major Fischer, I saw the
general movements of the battle, near enough to be filled with the most
terrible interest, to see the masses descend from the heights, tracked
by smoke and fire, to see opposing bodies approaching to collision, and
by the rapidity of motion to distinguish horse from foot, and where
approaching columns had been lost to sight, to recognise their conflict
from the sudden smoke of the volleys. But though near enough for this,
I was too distant to pretend to give the description of an eye-witness,
not indeed being able to distinguish one regiment from another, or
indeed the enemy from ourselves, except from the direction in which
each was moving.

What anxious moments did we pass, near enough to see where the battle
raged, but not in what way it was decided. However, it was more like
victory than defeat, we thought, as no runaways came to spread bad
tidings, and the whole system of sights and sounds seemed rather more
distant than more near.

At length I descried a brother-officer riding alone towards us. I flew
to meet him.

“Well, Theso, you have been fighting all morning. What have you done?
We are half dead with anxiety.”

“Oh,” said the good-natured fellow, “would you had been with us! Never
was anything more complete. They are all but destroyed.”

“Now, God be praised!” said I, running to seize Theso’s hand. “God
Almighty be praised! This is grand news indeed.”

“I came to tell you,” said he, “that you need stay no longer here. We
don’t think of entrenchments now.”

“Then I may ride to the field, where I can better understand all you
have been doing.”

So saying I mounted my horse, Theso giving some directions as to the
right track, and away I cantered.

This might have been a scene harrowing to the last degree, for I might
have found it full of suffering I had no power to mitigate, and have
paid dearly in agony of mind for the gratification of a natural and
overwhelming curiosity. But the noble compassion and prompt activity of
the victors, aided by our generous sailors, had already removed from
the field, without distinction of friend or foe, all who stood in need
of the offices of humanity.

Still it was a field of battle smoking with recent carnage, peopled
with prostrate warriors distorted with the death agony, harnessed for
battle in gay colours, feathers, and gold, but stained and bathed in
their own life-blood, having on that gory bed suddenly closed all the
sanguine, joyous hopes of life.

A sight so disfigured, what heart of rock could long dry-eyed behold!

The events of the battle were in some sort told by the mute and
motionless, but sad and appalling forms with which the ground was
covered; all indeed were still and silent, but all bore the attitude of
struggle, of fearful flight, or eager chase.

A picture of a battle represents but one instant; no figure can move,
yet all seems stirring and tumultuous.

So, in some sort, is the actual field of glory. The chieftain’s hand is
lifted to strike; his lips have not closed since the shout of victory
or mandate of battle has passed through them. The passions, too, in the
midst of death remain strongly impressed upon each warrior’s features.
The daring courage, the bitterness of anger or revenge, and the
thrilling agony of mortal pain--all speak distinctly in the countenance
of the dead.

The route of the flying enemy was thickly tracked through the
straggling course of the shallow Amato and up the heights beyond by
slaughtered bodies of the 1st Regiment of French Light Infantry, which
had ventured to charge ours with the bayonet. All lay in one direction,
in the attitude of headlong desperate flight.

I forget the number of this regiment buried on the field, but a
skeleton of it only could have escaped.

Amid all the disfigurements of wounds and scenes of human agony,
nothing so powerfully inclined my heart to pity and compassion as the
letters which lay near each unburied soldier, representing the last
remains of the affections and softer feelings, as the body represented
his warlike powers. Many of these, in female characters, were expressed
with all the tender beauties of the French tongue, and, with an absence
of reserve taught by the Revolution, showed by their intenseness of
feeling how bitterly living hearts were to be grieved with the tidings
of the scene before me.

No one can tell from description how wretched is the feeling, when
standing over the body of a youthful soldier, to read in a fair female
hand such expressions as these:--

“Oh, preserve thy life! Venture not too much for the sake of thy
poor Adèle, who has never ceased to deplore thy absence, but who will
think the first moment of thy return an ample compensation for all her
sufferings.”

_Return!_ shall that prostrate blood-stained figure ever return to the
poor Adèle? The beauty of youth indeed has not yet left him, but by
to-morrow the form even of humanity will be gone! Many of the letters
were from all degrees of kindred--mother, wife, sister, daughter. It
was impossible to read unmoved.

Poor Harry Paulet was dreadfully wounded in the thigh, and our
Commandant had a beautiful horse killed under him.

       *       *       *       *       *

Having been unable to be actually present at the battle of Maida, I
write the following account from subsequent observation and inquiry,
by which I satisfied my natural thirst to know all the events of this
memorable day.


BATTLE OF MAIDA

_July 4, 1806._--The position of the enemy was at right angles with the
trend of the beach, and so distant from it as to admit of operations
between the sea and his left flank, which was weak from the nature
of the ground, an inconvenience the enemy could not avoid from our
being masters of the water, upon which was Sir Sidney Smith with
a line-of-battle ship and three frigates. The British marched with
extended flanks and a heavy column in the centre, the right flank
covered by the sea, the left flank exposed, so that during the approach
of the English the left flank of each army was more particularly
exposed to the operations of the other.

General Regnier, thinking with some reason that the impetus of assault
has much influence over the fate of battles, determined not to wait
for our attack. He descended from his position, crossing the river
Amato, which bathed its foot, and rushed upon the daring foe that was
advancing to attack him.

It happened that the Light Infantry Corps, under Colonel Kempt,
in advance of our right, was opposed to the Premier Regiment de
L’Infanterie Légère, one of the most distinguished regiments in
Napoleon’s service. After these two regiments had exchanged some
well-directed volleys, the French corps rushed forward at the _pas de
charge_, their commander exclaiming furiously as they advanced, “Ne
tirez pas! ne tirez pas! À la bayonnette! à la bayonnette!”[6]

“_Steady, Light Infantry!_” shouted Kempt. “_Wait for the word!_ Let
them come close, let them come close! Now _fire_! _Charge bayonets!
March!_”

All this passed in a moment, but duly as ordered each deed was done.
When the French were very near they received a murderous volley from
their steadfast-hearted opponents, who then, as one man, rushed forward
to the charge. Just as that thing, which it is said has never happened,
viz. the equal shock of opposing lines of troops, seemed inevitable,
just as the two regiments seemed in the very act of contact, the French
Light Infantry, as one man, turned round and fled. They were driven
across the river and up the heights, and a horrible slaughter took
place of this beautiful regiment, which was almost totally destroyed.

Other regiments now volleyed and charged, as is usual in battles, and
the enemy’s left being totally routed, Regnier redoubled his efforts to
make an impression with his right, but with no better success. Neither
cavalry nor infantry could make the smallest impression in front.

The cavalry now made a rapid movement to turn our left flank, which
was unprotected; but at this critical moment the 20th Regiment, which
had just landed, led by the gallant Colonel Ross, advanced in such a
manner, and so skilfully availing itself of the advantages of cover
which the ground afforded, that the cavalry were compelled to go to the
right-about under a galling fire.

The victory was now decided, the enemy flying with the utmost
precipitation. But as we had no cavalry, he was enabled, with those
regiments which had less entirely committed themselves, to preserve
some order in his retreat.

The slaughter on the side of the enemy was immense, indeed hardly
credible when compared to the smallness of our loss. In killed,
wounded, and taken, the French loss has been estimated at more than
3000, while our total loss exactly amounts to as many hundreds, our
killed amounting to 40 privates and 1 officer, while 700 Frenchmen were
buried on the field. A French general (Compère), severely wounded,
is amongst the prisoners. He led the enemy on to the charge with an
_acharnement_ that seemed like individual hate, and on being taken
he rode with his shattered arm through our ranks, menacing with the
action of his other arm, and cursing and swearing with the most voluble
bitterness.

Another prisoner said, “Ma foi! they told us the English were fish that
could only fight by sea, and knew nothing of the matter by land.”

An officer asked him “What he thought now?”

“Oh, now,” said he, “it’s quite another thing.”

Surely this must be considered a brilliant victory when the disparity
of numbers is taken into account, and it is the more gratifying to us
because Regnier stands so high in reputation, and also because one
of these French fellows had formerly spoken very slightingly of the
talents of our gallant little General.

After having advanced some miles in pursuit of the enemy, our army
resumed the position of the morning.

The action began at half-past eight, and the firing ceased at eleven on
the 4th of July.

_July 5._--The army after so severe an exertion formed a sort of camp
of rest about a mile from the field of battle, and near the sea, so as
to have an easy communication with the fleet.[7]

Tents were established for the convenience of the officers, and all the
wounded were comfortably accommodated on board, while whatever could
contribute to the comfort of the troops was brought to them on shore.

After a short refreshment of this kind, the army advanced to Maida, and
there took possession of some French stores.

Having increased its distance from the sea, all the comforts of camp
equipage were abandoned, and we now bivouacked in the open fields,
and shared in all respects the fare of the private soldiers. Our mess
of raw meat was delivered to us in the same proportion as theirs; our
camp kettle hung gipsy-like over a fire of sticks, and each officer’s
cloak and blanket spread upon the ground served him for a bed and his
valise for a pillow, where he lay with his sword by his side and his
spurs on his heels, while his horse was picketed close at hand. In the
morning I went to some rivulet or spring with shaving tackle and brush
in my pocket, and sat down beside it, to lather and brush and scrape
uncomfortably enough.

This was a fine climate and a fine season, and that mode of lodging
on the bare ground had nothing in it really formidable to youthful
strength and spirits, but I never thought it agreeable; and by far
the worst night I spent was one in which we had all endeavoured to be
a little more comfortable by making huts of branches of trees, and
beds of the new-cut corn. An unhandy Sicilian, who acted as my squire
of the body, had undertaken to make “my Excellency” a superb “camera
frondosa.” Nothing could be worse. A few ill-arranged and ill-supported
branches to shade my head only, and over these a loose thatch of wheat.
I had made my own bed of golden flax, but he assured me this generated
a malaria, and made me change it for bearded wheat. I no sooner lay
down than every bearded ear, as if endued with life and motion, began
to work itself into my pantaloons, which for coolness were of the
dark blue Sicilian web silk, then worn by all our officers. Soon the
discomfort this occasioned was increased by the changeful night.

My Dominico, the unhandy, had made the mouth of my little canopy to
face the seaward wind, which now blew rudely upon me, drifting in all
insects of nocturnal wing, especially the large, cold, chaffy locusts,
with which the country was so covered that your horse kicked them up
like dust under his feet. Awkward, ill-guided creatures, as big as
one’s thumb, that when they got upon one did not know how to get away
again.

My under-lip, like that of all the officers, was almost cleft in two
by the effect of sun and night air, so that to laugh or smile brought
tears into one’s eyes, and every time the wind dashed a locust against
my face I gave myself a slap on the chops that stung my poor lip to
distraction. Then it began to rain like the deuce, and soon giving
weight to the wheat at top, the branches could no longer support it, so
down it all came, wet bearded corn, branches and insects, all at once
on my face.

I was extremely glad when this memorable night was over, and ere
earliest dawn the signal for awaking sounded through the leafy roofs
under which the army had that night reposed. At two o’clock I was busy
in preparing my horse for his march, caring little now for the ill
construction of my hut or all the disasters of the night.

The enemy, who had advanced to meet us from the south, having
immediately after the battle retreated northwards to Catanzaro, instead
of attempting to cover the country whence he came, it was plain that
he no longer thought of defending Lower Calabria, which province with
its garrisons he thus abandoned to his victorious adversary. Sir John
Stuart was strongly minded to pursue these extraordinary advantages,
and with his small unassisted army (for there was no indication of a
national rising) to drive the French still further to the north, and
increase the extent of his footing in the kingdom of Naples. There
was certainly more gallantry than prudence about this idea; for when
the interests which depend on this little army are considered, the
importance of the Island of Sicily at this moment, and our trifling
numbers for territorial occupation, there can be no doubt that those
about the General, who prevailed with him to be satisfied with the
conquest of the province[8] almost touching this important island, with
whose safety he was entrusted, did better service by their counsels
than they could at that time have rendered by their swords.

Of this number, I believe, was his Quartermaster-General, a young man
of great acquirement and high military promise; and certainly not the
least influential of them was our own Commandant[9] of the Royal
Engineers, whose vigorous and strong professional opinion certainly had
great influence, for the Quartermaster-General in reference to it used
these emphatic words, “It has succeeded.” It was in conformity with the
decision produced by these counsels that the Headquarters had moved to
Monte Leone, and the General was now disposed to content himself with
placing the province of Lower Calabria upon such a footing of military
occupation as would delay its reoccupation even by a very superior
force, and ensure to us for a considerable time both shores of the
Straits of Messina.

Most of the ports to the southward of Monte Leone were so
inconsiderable as to surrender on the first appearance of a military
force or of a ship of war. But the port which by its position was by
far the most important (viz. the castle, strongly built upon the rock
of Scylla) was in a good state of defence, impregnable to assault,
fully garrisoned, and commanded by the chief engineer of Regnier’s
army; so as might have been expected, the commandant had treated
the Admiral’s summons to surrender with contempt. It was necessary,
therefore, to march against the place. And when the commander of the
brigade which sat down before it gave a more serious summons, the
Frenchman answered that before he could surrender he must at least see
the means by which he could be reduced, meaning without doubt _heavy
artillery, so placed as to batter him in breach_.

It became necessary therefore to attack this castle by a regular siege,
and the army on the 12th of July began its march at four o’clock in the
morning. It had not proceeded many miles before I, being then about
fifty miles distant, received an order from my Commandant to repair to
the siege also. So I set forward alone.

The road lies over bold mountains, and is so intricate and devious
that I lost my way and greatly lengthened my ride; but having
traversed the promontory of Tropea, the route is then more certain
and confirmed--keeping still indeed over mountains, but having the
near-sounding sea as a general guide, sometimes showing itself through
the cleft of two mountain peaks, and sending up the report of every gun
fired on its surface multiplied by the muffled echoes of the mountains.

After riding about fifty miles, the incessant sound of guns advertised
me of my approach to the scene of action, and soon, by one of those
dangerous paths whereon a horse moves with difficulty, and a stumble
would precipitate both horse and rider many hundred feet, I descended
to the small marine town of Scylla (bounded to the south by the
peninsular rock on which the besieged castle stood), and saw on
its highest tower (in spite of its investment by sea and land) the
tricolour flag flying.

The rock on which the castle stands seems, as it were, shoved out a
considerable way into the sea by the low and narrow isthmus which ties
it to the shore, and from this isthmus it rears itself suddenly in the
midst of the waves.

Before the castle was built this spot was probably an inaccessible
peak of naked rock; the top, however, has been blown away to afford
space for military occupation, leaving height enough to afford a
formidable scarp of natural rock towards the land as the basement of
the artificial rampart; towards the sea, an abrupt precipitous cliff,
inaccessible to man, descends perpendicularly into the deep water.

The fort constructed upon the table of this peninsular rock was, up
to a certain point, admirably adapted for security and strength. But
that abrupt and lonely precipitousness of inaccessible circuit, which
to the unlearned eye presented so imposing a picture of invulnerable
strength, was in fact the radical defect of the position, which made it
impossible to secure it against the means and measures of modern war.
The great strength of modern fortification consists certainly in the
glacis, or in that smoothly sloping mound which conceals and covers
the rampart to the very chin, yet is severed from it by a deep and
impassable ditch, screening it from every injury, even by the heaviest
and most numerous ordnance, whilst its own gradual slope is swept by
a rain and hail of cannon-balls, grape shot, and musketry, both from
its own parapet and that of the superior rampart. But to construct
this, ample space is necessary, and consequently for a rocky peak
like Scylla, joined to the land by a narrowing isthmus, this work, so
indispensable to durable strength, was totally unattainable.

The strength, then, of the Castle of Scylla lay briefly in this, that
its reduction required the bringing against it of heavy artillery,
capable of beating down the rampart that fronted the land.

So much for the castle which I now beheld, and which, surrounded with
enemies by sea and land, and cut off from all connection with any
friendly force, stood up boldly in the midst of that sapphire sea and
unfurled the three-coloured flag of national defiance.

I shall now briefly describe the circumstances and things by which it
was at this time surrounded, not so much on account of any historical
importance attaching to this little siege, as because the classic
associations and natural beauties of the scene consecrate it to memory,
and its local form subjected all these operations to the eye, like some
warlike spectacle in the theatre of the gods.

If we can fancy ourselves within the castle and looking over the
isthmus in the direction of the land, behind us and almost all round us
is the sea. On the left hand is the beach and town of Scylla. On the
right the bold and mountainous shore takes a gradual sweep, till over a
space of sea it looks down upon our right flank. Here Sir Sidney Smith
has established a battery and hoisted the English colours.

Immediately in front, from the base of the isthmus, rises a steep
cliff, whose brow, divided into several distinct hills, overlooks
the castle at the distance of some five or six hundred yards. These
heights have a surface very spacious, rising very gradually from the
cliff towards the steeps of the Superior Mountains. Farms, vineyards,
gardens, and country houses occupy and intersect this sloping headland.
But the head of each hill or cliff looking upon the castle has been
kept bare, probably with a view to defence, though unfortunately the
same precaution had not been observed with respect to the ground nearer
the foot of the cliff, and looking very close upon the main rampart;
for there, for marine convenience, a little suburb had been suffered
to rise, and it was behind the mask of one of these houses that the
breaching battery was at last erected.

Beyond that vine-clad esplanade or level district which rose very
gradually from the brow of the cliff, the heights, still clothed with
cultivation, ascended more steeply towards the summit of that vast
range of mountains, which makes this trend of coast so bold, imperious,
and pre-eminently beautiful.

It was partly upon, and partly still above, these steeper slopes that
the besieging army bivouacked, as the nearer ground would have made
them liable to annoyance from the guns of the castle.

All the necessary communication with the army from Sicily and from the
sea was by a rugged mountain path formed upon the side of an awful
ravine, whose embouchure opened upon the beach between the town and
castle.

The road which this ravine afforded was not only difficult but likely
to cause frightful accidents; for when I ascended by it the first time,
to join the besiegers’ army, I saw where a sumpter horse heavily laden
had fallen the day before with its load, and the poor animal was still
visible lying on its back some hundred feet below.

To supply the requisites for a siege by such a road, it may well be
believed, was difficult in the extreme, and would have been impossible
but for our all-conquering sailors, who with their tackling and their
“yo-hee-ho” hauled the guns and carriages up the rocks at the points
nearest to the ground chosen for their position. Yet it was some days
after my arrival before operations could be commenced, and much of
those days I passed in a lofty observatory built of branches, in so
elevated a position that I looked down upon the castle and the sea.

On one side I saw the Neapolitan gunboats, and on the other Sir Sidney
Smith’s battery, cannonading the castle, and the castle occasionally
making a shrewd shot at the gunboats, which also, oftener than the
castle, were startled by the plunging fire of our naval battery. On
the arrival of my Commandant all these futile operations died away.
The General and the Admiral equally relied upon the resources of his
science and the natural energy of his powerful mind, and after some
loss from irregular experiments, no one was suffered to interfere with
his plan of operations.

He went with us to the embouchure of the ravine to have a good view of
the castle from head to foot; and whilst he stood with his uplifted
telescope carefully examining the nature of its defences, a cannon-ball
very nearly struck him, and covered him with sand; but he never even
lowered his telescope or remitted his attentive speculation, and only
showed that he was aware of the fact by saying, as he continued to look
through his glass, “What asses, to fire in that way at an individual!”

It seemed to my inexperience that this was standing fire tolerably
well--brave and invincible Lefebure! It was as he stood just so, with
his eagle glance bent on the foe, the last to quit a ruined fort he
was ordered to evacuate, that in after years a cannon-ball struck his
breast, and severed his brave spirit from his noble form.[10]

That there might be no disappointment in the stores expected
from Messina, I was desired to cross the Faro, superintend their
embarkation, and return with them. For this purpose I took one of the
Calabrese boats which lay on the beach.

The warders of the castle seeing a British officer put off in a boat,
honoured us with a shot or two, to the great and undissembled terror
of the boatmen, while I was doing all I could to imitate the cool
indifference of our Commandant on the preceding day; but we soon got
out of their range, and they ceased to fire, which made me wonder the
more to see that the boatmen were going a devious course, sometimes one
way, sometimes another. “What now,” said I, “body of Pluto! what ails
the rogues?”

“Zitto! zitto! cellenza!” they whispered, and with their eloquent hands
at once motioned me to be quiet, and to come forward to the prow. There
on the very peak one of the men, having thrown off his jacket and
shirt, stood up, as straight as a _mast_, with his flat hands pressed
together on his breast, and looking down intensely upon the sea.
Following the direction of his eyes, I perceived at a great depth, in
the bright blue sea, rowing itself contentedly along, a turtle of a
size uncommon in these waters. With great dexterity they so managed the
boat as to follow closely the course of the turtle; and when they had
brought the prow of the boat nearly over him, the man who stood there,
lifting his joined hands above his head, turned himself over, and went
head foremost like an arrow into the sea.

In a moment up he came again, bearing the dripping, gasping turtle on
its back, in his two hands, clear above the water, flapping its oary
legs, and gasping with its hawk’s beak; the man treading the water,
panting and laughing at his exploit, and his delighted companions, as
they relieved him of his load, all applauding him at once, helping him
in, and saying, “Bravo, Signor, bravissimo! La Maestro! da capo! et
viva!”

I thought I never saw a neater bit of fishing. A small silver coin
served to make the turtle my own, and I determined to take him back
with me to see what we could make of him.

       *       *       *       *       *

But to return to Scylla. Before heavy guns could be got up, it was
thought advisable to make such use of the Light Artillery as could
destroy as much as possible the defences or fire of the enemy.

The most anxious night I ever passed was in erecting a breastwork for
two 12-pounders within half musket-shot of the place, as everything
depended upon its being completed before the light should discover
us to the enemy. And though I explained to the men their danger if
they should be discovered, it did not appear to create in them any
extraordinary vigour. On the contrary, if my back was an instant
turned, I found half of them asleep or sitting down, and it was
difficult to detect them owing to the darkness of the night. Only by
the most violent means could I extort a tolerable portion of labour,
though I knew that if we were not covered before dawn, the spot was so
exposed that at least half the party would be sacrificed.

By perfect silence, however, we avoided discovery during the night,
favoured by the enemy being himself employed, as we could distinctly
hear by every move, which, at cautious intervals, interrupted the
silence of the night. The radiance of the stars faintly delineated the
features of the gloomy horizon, and when the light of day discovered us
to the enemy, he opened upon us a very brisk fire of musketry without
intermission for an hour and a half, which, after being partially
silenced by a howitzer, continued at intervals until the battery was
finished. We were so well covered, and so little remained to be done on
the outside, that only one man was wounded.

Nothing could be prettier than the siege to a person out of fire. The
ruddy evenings gave the most tranquil warmth to the scene, which was
bounded in front by the Lipari Islands, with Scylla on the left, and
the beautiful Calabrian promontory on the right, and the only thing
wrong was that the volcano should (quite contrary to usual practice)
choose to remain in perfect repose.

When I left Scylla, the two 12-pounders had destroyed a part of the
fort which hitherto had given us considerable annoyance, and in two
days it was expected that we should open a battery of four 24-pounders
within 150 yards of the castle, which could not fail in a few hours to
knock it to pieces. The result was that Scylla surrendered on the 23rd
July 1806.

       *       *       *       *       *

Now for myself. I was ordered to put myself under the command of
Lieut.-Colonel M’Leod, who with his regiment (78th) was to proceed
on a reconnaissance on the eastern coast of Calabria; and here I am,
installed on board the _London_ transport, and probably after a month’s
cruising we shall come back and settle quietly in Messina.

                                    “LONDON” TRANSPORT (OFF CALABRIA),
                                              _July 20, 1806_.

  MY DEAREST FATHER--I seize the only advantage immediately resulting
  from being cooped on board, viz. the opportunity to address one’s
  friends leisurely and comfortably; and as the duty on which I am
  now going is not likely to be at all dangerous, I have no fears
  of alarming you by giving as much account of myself as will be
  comfortable to you and me.

       *       *       *       *       *

                                      H.M.S. _Amphion, July 24, 1806_.

  My situation has been considerably amended as to comfort since
  coming on board this ship, which is commanded by the brother of
  my friend Hoste, R.E., whom I never spoke to until my arrival in
  the Bay of St. Eufemia. Yet with the most gratifying attention, he
  has rescued me from the miserable transport, where I was destitute
  even of those comforts which usually palliate the sufferings of
  a transport imprisonment, and taken me into his own cabin, which
  is like most other cabins of men-of-war--a compact assemblage of
  convenience and comfort. It was besides in some ways better that
  I should be here with Colonel M’Leod, who came the moment we fell
  in with the frigate, which, with the vessels and boats under the
  command of Captain Hoste, is to co-operate with the troops under
  Colonel M’Leod.

  Very important despatches were intercepted yesterday; they were
  from King Joseph to General Regnier, containing a positive order to
  retire to Cassano, which is completely out of Calabria.

  The King is afflicted and yet more astonished at the conduct of the
  troops, which rendered nugatory the good arrangements of General
  Regnier. He would have the 1st Regiment of Light Infantry reminded
  that they never before had any fear of the English, but always made
  them fly before them; and the rest of the troops--that they have,
  until this unfortunate moment of panic-struck terror (for which
  His Majesty is unable to account), been uniformly victorious. But
  above all, they are desired to remember _that they are Frenchmen_,
  and also to be assured that the Emperor shall be ignorant of their
  conduct until some fresh intelligence convinces H.N.M. that it is
  really a body of French troops of which General Regnier has the
  command.[11]

We are every moment receiving on board the leaders of the Patriot
Mountaineers, who are the most striking, barbarous-looking fellows.

_6th August._--I send these sheets as they are. I have no time to
revise, and add the conclusion of my expedition, as tho’ I am at
present on board the _Amphion_, yet not much time will elapse before I
tread the firm ground of Messina.

The march of the enemy from Catanzaro towards Naples was very
much harassed by the frigate, which threw her shot with admirable
precision, insomuch that the column, dispersed and flying for cover,
with the utmost precipitation, presented a favourable moment for the
Mountaineers, which, alas! they let escape them.

This system of annoyance on our part was followed up on the enemy’s
camp, north of Cotrone, from whence they marched in the night, leaving
a garrison in the fortress which surrendered to our summons.

When we went on shore we were joyously received by the poor oppressed
inhabitants, and the nobility of the town vied with each other in
attention to us.

Being chief engineer I was attached to Captain Hoste and Colonel
M’Leod, so that my situation was as pleasant as possible; for neither
of the commanders treating me with the least _Big-wig_, we carried on
the war like three jolly fellows.

A carriage waited each day at the Marina for our coming on shore, and a
good dinner was prepared for all the officers.

The first day we dined at the house of a baron whose family had during
the stay of the French been in the most terrible alarm, as the house
was just in the range of fire between the vessels and the fortress.

One daughter was very beautiful, and I asked her if she was glad that
the French were gone; she looked pensive and pale, and answered “Ma
quanto.”

There was something gratifying though melancholy to me in the way these
people clung to us in all their fears--for the French being gone,
their alarm as to the depredations of the native masses was equally
oppressive.

During dinner, some of the savage chiefs entered upon business with
Colonel M’Leod, and this young creature showing evident signs of
inquietude, I asked if she were afraid? “Con voi--no,” with much
softness of expression, replied the beautiful Italian.

The British authorities, however, with very laudable solicitude, by
threats and promises ensured to the town tranquillity, and quite calmed
the fears of the inhabitants.

Yet I was shocked at some of the misery which I saw; alas! human misery
can attain a very high pitch.

Colonel M’Leod desired me to give him a report upon Cotrona.

Now, reports are very ticklish sort of things, it being no difficult
matter to get the wrong side, and then you are subscribed a fool in
black and white to the end of your days--and this was the first time
I had been called upon to act by myself. I obeyed orders with much
trepidation, but as I afterwards found that Colonel M’Leod, in a
despatch to Sir T. Stuart, called my paper “an able report, the ideas
in which coincide with his own,” I am well satisfied, and indeed I have
had a most pleasant expedition.

                                            MESSINA (_2 hours later_).

  I find that General Moore has arrived. I hope I was recommended to
  him.--Ever your dutiful son,

                                                                 C. B.

       *       *       *       *       *

                                            MESSINA, _August 13, 1806,
                                                 and August 28_.

  MY DEAREST MOTHER--I am just returned from a most unexpected
  cruise in the Gulf of Taranto (mouth of the Adriatic), where I was
  despatched at a very short notice to reconnoitre Gallipoli and
  Tarentum, port towns in the Gulf, and I this day carried in my
  report to H.E. General Fox, who is a man of pleasant manners and
  sensible appearance.

  I was sent out in H.M.S. _Wizard_, a very fast-sailing brig,
  Captain Palmer commander, and as he could not take me into the
  harbour of Tarentum in the brig, owing to the batteries on an
  island at the mouth--from which they gave us a hint or two--he
  lowered his boat, and we advanced unmolested, very near the walls
  of the town, which imprudence nearly cost us our liberty. For the
  enemy on the watch let us come on as far as we would, and the
  moment we turned, sent out a boat full of soldiers with a huge
  sail. We attempted for some time to sail before them, but finding
  they gained on us very fast, the sail was _downed_, and we threw
  ourselves upon hard rowing for escape, which at one time neither
  the captain nor myself had any hopes of; and I felt no small
  degree of exultation to find myself on board H.M.S., as I was far
  from wishing to be captured in so silly a manner.

  They tell us of peace, but I will not believe it. No Minister can,
  no Minister dare make peace in the present position. Nothing, in
  my opinion, but this island being an acknowledged British colony,
  could justify our admitting Joseph’s title to Naples, and we cannot
  do this without providing for this king, and if he be provided
  for, somebody else must be robbed. No, no, it won’t do.--Adieu, my
  dearest mother, ever your affectionate son,

                                                              CHARLES.

       *       *       *       *       *

                                                        _September 1._

  To-day I wish my dearest father much good sport, and you a good
  appetite to enjoy his success.

  I am ashamed, my ever dearest lady mother, to send you so dirty a
  letter, but I trust you will excuse it, as I was hurried by the
  idea of the vessel sailing.

  Sir John Stuart carries the mail in which are these letters. I hope
  the country will receive him as the daring nature of his exploits
  and the fulness of his victory warrant and demand.

       *       *       *       *       *

                                          MESSINA, _October 10, 1806_.

  MY DEAREST FATHER--I have seen but little of General Moore. When I
  meet him he treats me in the most agreeable way possible. I dined
  with him the other day. He came very close to my heart talking of
  you in a very friendly manner. Not indeed that he said much, but
  when he mentioned you, he had a sort of friendly satisfaction very
  agreeable. He told me I was not such a slim fellow as you, and
  asked about your shooting, etc.

  I feel it a sort of comfort to have some interest with a man who
  may possibly prevent my being left in holes and corners when I
  should be elsewhere.

  General Sherbrooke is here. I do not know him, but hear he is a
  first-rate officer.

  We are extremely anxious for the packet. We expect to hear by
  the next arrivals what our countrymen think of the battle of
  Maida.--Your dutiful and affectionate son,

                                                                 C. B.

       *       *       *       *       *

                                             CATANIA, _Feb. 21, 1807_.

  MY EVER DEAREST FATHER--I did not remember until I dated this
  letter that probably in the course of this day I should come across
  your recollection. I beg your blessing, and that of my dearest
  mother, and I pray God to bless you both, that you may long be able
  to give it me on the return of this day.

  My change of place prevents my writing so often as formerly, from
  not being in the way of opportunities.

  The packet of January has arrived, and possessed us of very late
  papers.

  It is believed here that the French, having crossed the Vistula,
  have been beaten by the Russians, and any reverse with so large a
  river in their rear would be incalculable. It is likewise believed
  that Buonaparte is at Paris, endeavouring to reinforce his army, in
  spite of a general ferment throughout France.

  An expedition is expected to leave Sicily every hour, generally
  supposed to be destined for Alexandria; but it is difficult to
  conceive why we should wish to garrison Alexandria (the Porte
  having defied us). As Turkey will do for the enemy as well as
  Egypt in respect to India, to seize Constantinople would seem more
  desirable, for I think there is no doubt but that Napoleon will
  occupy the states of his ally as far as he thinks expedient; and
  thus we should anticipate Buonaparte and preserve the passage of
  the Dardanelles.

  If this expedition is going to Egypt, I am glad I remain here,
  but if Constantinople, I shall much regret that I was not ordered
  to join it. There is still, I believe, some doubt about its going
  at all, but I trust our dear old sturdy State will still be
  superior to the continental commotion. She never saw the time more
  calculated to try whether she be a solid fabric or no. For in this
  dearth of political talents, and of all talents (for there are no
  great men as yet visible), she must go almost by herself.

  I am now quartered in this most beautiful town (Catania) upon Mount
  Etna, which I shall ascend when the fine weather comes, if I am
  still here.

  I am rather inclined to believe that the war is near its close;
  but I cannot discern the end.--Ever, my dearest father, your very
  affectionate and dutiful son,

                                                              CHARLES.

       *       *       *       *       *

                                              AUGUSTA, _May 25, 1807_.

  MY DEAREST MOTHER--I make an effort to save this packet, because
  you will perhaps be anxious about Egypt, of which you will now
  learn such unpleasant intelligence. There is at present no prospect
  of my going there, altho’ I expected it some days ago, for I
  should think that the first advices from England will lead to the
  evacuation of that precarious possession. By what I can learn,
  General Fox designs to maintain Alexandria until he can receive
  new instructions.

  Captain Lefebure, to my great vexation, has at his own desire been
  relieved from his command by Major Bryce. He wrote me a long and
  very kind letter upon the subject, and I transcribe a paragraph
  which occurs at the latter end, because I know it will give old Dad
  pleasure:--

  “Dear Boothby, praise from me is superfluous, but I must yield to
  my feelings, and give you my hearty thanks for your unremitted,
  zealous, and useful professional support since we have been on the
  same service.”

  I am here under the command of Colonel Campbell, who, I suppose, is
  one of those men than whom there _cannot_ be a better. I never knew
  him before.

  Augusta is on a peninsula between Syracuse and Catania. The party
  of Guards with whom I live is the pleasantest society that can
  be, and I sometimes go over to Syracuse, where I see Lord Fred
  Bentinck, who is a capital fellow.

  General Fox comes here to-day. He came here some time ago, but
  was suddenly called to Messina by the Egyptian despatches. Being
  obliged to go away early in the morning, he desired me to walk
  home with him after dinner to show him a plan of the works, in
  which walk he talked a great deal about Minorca and your family. My
  kindest love to all.--Ever your truly affectionate son,

                                                              CHARLES.

The packet is gone, but a friend of mine goes to England under convoy
of the _Intrepid_, which will sail immediately with General Fox,
leaving General Moore in chief.


COPY OF LETTER FROM SIR JOHN MOORE TO LIEUTENANT BOOTHBY, R.E.,
AUGUSTA:--

                                           MESSINA, _August 18, 1807_.

  MY DEAR BOOTHBY--I had the pleasure of receiving your letter of the
  22nd July, on my return from Palermo, two days ago. All I shall say
  at present is, that I have a strong wish to serve and to oblige you.

  I shall speak both to Major Bryce and to General Oakes on the
  subject of your wishes, and when an opportunity offers, if the
  situation is thought eligible for you and can be managed, you shall
  have my interest.--I have the honour to remain with great regards,
  very faithfully,

                                                           JOHN MOORE.

       *       *       *       *       *

                                            AUGUSTA, _Sept. 14, 1807_.

  MY EVER DEAREST FATHER--The arrival of the packet at Malta has
  relieved very strong apprehensions for her safety. If, as I hope,
  there are a great many letters for me, I shall not get them until
  they are delivered at Messina, and sent from thence hither. It
  always happens in this manner that my answers are never able to
  reach the return mail, but on this occasion I am determined to
  answer by anticipation.

  I can at least assure you that I am perfectly well, which is all in
  the present press that I have time to do.

  The heat of the summer caused an epidemic of fever, which has now,
  however, almost entirely subsided. It plagued me for about a week,
  since which I have been rudely well, though the weather has been
  hot to a most irksome degree, and I have been obliged to brave
  the sun at the peril of no other inconvenience than the prickly
  heat--if you know what that is. I have indeed been harassed more by
  anxiety than labour: the former, however, is nearly at an end now.

  When I found my fever gone and my appetite returned, and nothing
  left but depression of spirits and a little languor, I puts me into
  a boat at night by a beautiful moon, more lovely than the sun, and
  starts me for Syracuse for the next day’s races, where I had a
  horse to run, and I knew there would be jollity.

  I arrived much fatigued and slept a most excellent night, and
  breakfasted late next morning--no sooner finished, than the
  sporting gentlemen entered, and roused me up with a long pole, and
  the quicksilver mounted directly; for these were people that I much
  affect.

  But first of all, for fear you should suppose that there is much
  extravagance in this affair, I must tell you how it goes.

  The races have been generally about once in six weeks, subscribers
  pay a guinea, and each subscriber may, if he pleases, enter a
  Sicilian horse. The guineas thus collected are divided into four
  parts or three, according to the number of horses, which are also
  arranged in classes according to their merits. The winner of each
  class gets one of the divisions of the money, and then all the
  winners run for the last division. They are weighted by handicaps.

  In this manner my horse has won for me upwards of twenty guineas. I
  should always subscribe whether I had a horse or not, because the
  meeting is more pleasant than anything in this horrid country, and
  I can afford it. With a little care I keep my head very well above
  water.

  Well, on the race day I was very merry, and dined in the evening
  with the Jockey Club, which was entertained by a man by everybody
  loved and esteemed for his excellence of all sorts, and who was
  by me additionally regarded, because we were made acquainted by
  a letter from poor Gould,[12] who was his first cousin. Finding
  myself _de buon appetito_, I drank lots of champagne well iced, and
  since have enjoyed robustness of health.

  I do not see where will be the sense in talking to you about what
  you will see in the papers. They now say that the seven islands are
  all strictly blockaded; and it appears, by a letter from our Consul
  at Corfu to Colonel Campbell, that Cæsar Berthier with 1500 men had
  taken possession of Corfu, and felt himself critically situated
  with so small a force in case of attack from us.

  I fancy Zanti and the other islands are not yet occupied by the
  French. We are all in a bustle to put the fortresses in a good
  state of defence, and indeed, now the French have nothing else to
  do, it behoves us to be very much on our guard if we are to keep
  the island.

  But I imagine that the immediate preparation was against any
  attempt that might be meditated from Corfu--the very island which
  now appears to have been in equal fuss on our account.

  As I have been some time resident here upon other business, I
  was desired to draw up a full memoir upon the defences of the
  place,[13] which I set about reluctantly and fearfully, unwilling
  to write myself ass, and not knowing that it would so soon come in
  question.

  The thing gave much anxiety and trouble, but it seems that I have
  not come very wide of the mark, as I am threatened with an order to
  execute most of my proposals. This is very pleasantly terminated,
  as I wrote to recommend that an older officer should be sent down
  (which some would call spiritless, _but we call honest_); and now
  I find that the Captain whom I particularly wished to have, is
  ordered to come here immediately.

  _September 27._--Since I last wrote I have been highly delighted
  with a visit to the crater of Mount Etna, which is not only more
  sublimely terrific and more dreadfully beautiful than anything
  else I ever beheld, but much more than my imagination had ever
  pictured. I had been so much occupied since my residence in this
  island, as to be prevented from joining any of the numerous parties
  of last year. Thus I began to be very apprehensive that I might
  labour under the reproach of residing near two years in Sicily
  without beholding one of the most stupendous objects of nature--the
  greatest of volcanoes. But the history of my ascent to Mount Etna
  must be suspended _sine die_.

  We were fortunate in finding the crater in an incessant state of
  fiery eruption--tremendous indeed! It threw out red stones very
  near us. The guide was alarmed. Hereafter I may relate more at
  length an excursion strongly impressed upon my mind.

  An expedition is on the eve of departure from Sicily. It will have
  about 7000 men, commanded by General Moore and General Paget--the
  Guards and Moore’s own regiment (52nd),--in short, the flower of
  the army.

  I wrote to go, and was gratified to find that I was in the
  arrangement. I am told that it is intended to place me on the
  staff. At any rate I am delighted to go.

  Nobody can guess our destination. All parts of the world have been
  conjectured, England and Ireland not excepted.

  I have been very lucky never to be ill on these occasions, and am
  much pleased at being remembered, though in this out-of-the-way
  place, and being placed immovably on the list.

  I long to see General Moore wave his hat, and hope we are to trim
  the real French--and no auxiliaries nor Turks.

  Burgoyne is Commanding Engineer, and almost all my friends and
  people to whom I am attached are going, which gives much huzza
  to my feelings. I should certainly have hanged myself had I been
  left in this hole after the Guards had left it, and when all my
  world had gone forth. Perhaps my being on the expedition may much
  expedite my return to God’s dearest blessings, which I prize so far
  above all other earthly goods. It is fortunate for a man’s piety
  when the objects of his gratitude are so undeniably great as to
  fill his heart and make him know how good God has been to him. I
  have come to that state when I would be thought truly pious--I had
  always a hankering after it,--as I find that nothing encourages
  half so much the gladness of the heart or the sublimity of the mind.

  With infinite love, your truly affectionate

                                                              CHARLES.

_October 17._--At the time the above was written the fleet was getting
under way, and was to rendezvous at Syracuse, where it was to be joined
by the troops from Egypt, who were already at Messina. Colonel Campbell
had no idea of the destination of the expedition. An order has since
gone out for its recall to Sicily.

                            “ELIZABETH” TRANSPORT, MEDITERRANEAN SEA,
                           240 miles from Gibraltar. Foul wind, fresh.
                              _November 29, 1807._ 30 days at sea.

  MY DEAREST LOUISA--I know nothing more efficacious in my present
  misery than writing to you, by which for the moment I may lose the
  consciousness of it. Do not be alarmed; they are only the miseries
  of this restless element and stinking prison to which I allude.

  On leaving Sicily some one persuaded me that our undoubted
  destination was Palermo. When that was passed, we all thought
  Lisbon the mark. Now we learn by the _Minstrel_ (which spoke the
  _Queen_ about ten days ago) that the Prince Regent of Portugal has
  declared against us; and I am inclined to think that this event may
  make the object of this army a secret to Sir John Moore himself;
  but Brazil is the general speculation. For my part I think our
  return more likely, as it appears of increasing importance to rivet
  Sicily as our perpetual colony--a measure which I am persuaded
  would be unattended with difficulty in the execution, and, as far
  as I can judge, filled with advantage in the end.

  But leave we this to the wise, while we content ourselves with
  ourselves.

  I find complaints about not writing so unavailing that I am quite
  puzzled how to act. I will have no letter that can be written
  in a day; I will have a journal! a compilation! Why do I see
  others--Colonel Campbell, for instance--receive packet upon packet
  copiously filled? Do you think that because he is a great man his
  friends write to him about State affairs, which are better treated
  in the papers--or Philosophy, or History perhaps? No, no; they
  write to him those heaps of gossip which are interesting only to
  him, but which of course delight him a thousand times more than
  any other subjects. Those incidents, dear Lou, which you think too
  trivial to send two thousand miles, never considering that domestic
  anecdotes so many thousand miles as they travel are so many
  thousand times more valuable to a man of affections than if sent to
  him a trifling distance, which you would not scruple to do.

  It surprises me the more that you, my dearest lass, are silent, who
  write with such apparent facility and impress your expressions with
  the graces of your nature--the true secret to make correspondence
  delightful--when that which I have long loved in yourself breathes
  through your letters and gives them the air of your conversation.

  I therefore recommend that you would keep a regular journal, enough
  to make me an immense letter once a month; and don’t be particular
  about a subject, so as you talk about what is actually going on
  amongst you. If “Molly Morley be brave to what she war,” it is
  very interesting to hear so, and if you still keep your taste for
  barley sugar! which I doubt not! But Brookes’ exploits must always
  be productive, with his badgers and things, and I thank you again
  for those anecdotes. I wrote the lad a letter some time ago. How I
  long to see him! Nobody makes me laugh half so much as he does, and
  I love a hearty laugh.

  But my home letters feel always so skinny between the finger and
  thumb that I am always sure there cannot be much in them, and every
  line I read I grudge, for fear of coming to the end. When once I
  do get home what a zest will my absence give to every blessing;
  for whereever I go or whatever I see, I may say with the feeling
  Goldsmith--

    My heart, untravelled, fondly turns to thee,
    Still wanders o’er the peaceful scenes I love,
    And drags a lengthening chain at each remove.

  I long incessantly to return to the bosom of that family to which
  may be applied the words of a less celebrated poet--

    Nor last, tho’ noticed last by me,
    Appears that happy family,
    No pen can do strict justice by,
    And mine should be the last to try--
    Wher’ever going--there approved
    And only known to be beloved.

                              COUCH, canto ii.

  This letter will probably be concluded from Gibraltar, where I may
  have a better idea of my destination. At present I am tired out
  with this tedious passage and tossing about from one side of the
  cabin to the other. The soup in my lap! and my fist in the pudding.
  Oh dear! Oh dear! But now, please Neptune, we may have a fair wind,
  and may run into Gibraltar in two or three days. The only amusement
  on board ship is light reading and making verses. It is quite
  impossible to bore.

  Since I came on board I have read with a good deal of attention
  for the first time Dryden’s Virgil and Pope’s Homer, from which in
  themselves I did not derive half so much pleasure as the conviction
  of Milton’s decided superiority to both.

  A man reading a translation cannot of course judge of the language
  or numbers of the original, but these I believe are not of the
  first consequence, and Pope is generally esteemed a greater master
  of both than Milton (though I am myself quite of a contrary
  opinion); but it is in the thoughts that Milton so astonishingly
  surpasses, I think, both Homer and Virgil; for surely nobody who
  reads _Paradise Lost_, and the _Iliad_ by Pope, can doubt how
  cumbersome rhyme is to an epic poem, or how much it relaxes the
  energy of the verse, or how much grander a translation of Homer
  Milton could have furnished than that for which we are so greatly
  obliged to Pope. I prefer the _Odyssey_ to the _Iliad_, and the
  _Georgics_ to the _Æneid_, for the latter is something like a
  servile imitation of the Greek.

  By the way, if you have never read Boswell’s _Life of Johnson_,
  let me recommend you to a most delicious entertainment. Although
  the biographer portrays himself an inconceivable goose, I never
  met with anything so interesting as his book, nor so wonderful as
  the conversation and universal wisdom of Johnson, whom he will
  never believe to be a coward, though it were proved in fifty
  thousand courts--and this indissoluble attachment is with me called
  rectitude of heart.

       *       *       *       *       *

                                        GIBRALTAR, _December 4, 1807_.

  After a most unpleasant passage of thirty-six days, we arrived here
  on the 1st inst. We have received no intelligence of any sort. Sir
  John Moore has sailed alone to the westward, and it is supposed
  that his object is to concert what may be best, by what he may find
  to have happened at Lisbon. All thoughts of South America seem to
  have subsided; and if in the end we do return, our advance and
  enterprise do not seem to be yet quashed, from the orders which the
  General gives us.

  I have been much gratified by a letter from the mother of my
  friend,[14] promising that the epitaph I sent should be placed
  on his tomb, and professing to have derived much comfort from my
  sympathy, and from the affectionate tribute paid to her son’s
  memory. It has in a manner set my heart at rest on this melancholy
  subject, for there is a great mental satisfaction, if no solid
  sense, in the consideration that I have performed the last sad duty
  to his ashes, by establishing a little register of his virtues and
  our friendship, which otherwise would have sunk with me and those
  who loved him into oblivion, the idea of which is horrible.

  _5th December._--The mail closes to-morrow and I have no time
  to alter or peruse anything--so take it as it is--it’s just a
  talk.--Yours,

                                                              CHARLES.

       *       *       *       *       *

                                               ISLE OF WIGHT,
                                      ST. HELENS, _December 29, 1807_.

  EVER DEAREST FATHER--If you have not been prepared for it, my
  arrival in England will be to you an agreeable surprise, as in fact
  it is almost to me.

  We had a favourable passage of thirteen days, and came to anchor
  last night. When I have seen Sir John Moore in Portsmouth and
  General Morse in London, I shall be better able to fix my
  movements; at present my thoughts are to stay here two or three
  days, then to London, and so meet you at Sudbury before the 9th.

  Hereafter I shall probably wish to adhere to General Moore, who has
  intimated a disposition entirely friendly to me. But I cannot help
  hoping to spend the greater part of the winter with you--a hope,
  however, too flattering to be implicitly trusted. I heard, by means
  of Colonel Campbell, the valuable intelligence that you were all
  well on the 12th November. As I trust we shall meet very soon I
  need not lengthen this letter, farther than to say how much I am,
  my dearest Dad, your ever most affectionate

                                                              CHARLES.

  _P.S._--There is not such an air of happiness in this letter as
  my situation may be supposed to inspire. The fact is, I fear
  giving myself too much up to certainty which may possibly forerun
  disappointment.--Adieu.


LETTER FROM LIEUT. CHARLES BOOTHBY TO SIR JOHN MOORE

                                                SUDBURY, _March 1808_.

  DEAR SIR--I did myself the honour to wait upon you in London, and
  trust that you will allow me to say by letter what I would have
  expressed in conversation.

  I experienced with much regret the breaking up of that army in
  which I felt so fortunately situated and befriended by you. But I
  do not despair of being again under your command, which is my first
  wish, and have only to fear the being sent out of the way before
  anything should occur.

  As your kindness on that head, as on all others, left me nothing
  to desire, I am anxious to state that my wish to belong to an army
  of which you have the command is entirely independent of any hopes
  I might suffer to arise in consequence of your late disposition to
  indulge my wishes and promote my advantage, and that I shall ever
  esteem myself sufficiently fortunate to meet with active practice
  in my own particular profession under your auspices in any part of
  the world. I found my father and family here on a visit to Lord
  Vernon. I delivered your message, which gave him much pleasure,
  and he is highly gratified to find himself remembered by your
  kindness to me.--I have the honour to be, dear sir, with great
  respect, your very obedient, obliged, and humble servant,

                                                      CHARLES BOOTHBY.

I had not long to wait before this letter was answered by a summons to
join the expedition to Sweden, under Sir John Moore, and by the 15th
April I was in London preparing for departure.

                                  BLENHEIM HOTEL, BOND STREET, LONDON,
                                            _April 27, 1808_.

  EVER DEAREST DAD--I feel conscious from your letter that you
  have not much spirits to spare. Whatever hurts you, goes to the
  quick with me also. But God did not mean us to be perfectly happy
  here, and I hope that we jog on towards the next place with as
  comfortable prospects as our neighbours.

  If from any want of efficiency on my part, it were your business
  to prescribe my motions, you would (however disagreeable to your
  affections) direct me as I am now going. The rage that pervades the
  youth of blood to go with General Moore exceeds anything I ever
  heard of, and many suicides are expected in consequence of rejected
  applications.

  I pray God to bless you all, and me, in such a return as lately
  gladdened my heart.--Your ever most affectionate

                                                              CHARLES.

       *       *       *       *       *

                                  BLENHEIM HOTEL, BOND STREET, LONDON,
                                            _April 29, 1808_.

  EVER DEAREST DAD--I hope it will not be a great disappointment
  to you not to find me in London, as I was peremptorily obliged to
  leave on the 30th.

  I would have done anything to save you a disappointment. But for
  myself, I should have had no pleasure in the meeting unless you
  were merry, and much pain at parting if you were sad.

  Your remittance was very convenient and sufficient, and I am not in
  want of anything.--Ever dearest Dad, yours,

                                                                    C.

       *       *       *       *       *

                                             SHEERNESS, _May 6, 1808_.

  The ships are under way and bound for Yarmouth. Thence I suppose to
  Gothenburg. Perhaps I shall see Sir Brooke in my rambles.

       *       *       *       *       *

                                              YARMOUTH, _May 9, 1808_.

  We arrived in the roads this morning, and I have just come on
  shore for an hour to get a few things that are wanting, as a fine
  fair breeze is to be taken advantage of immediately, and I hope to
  see Gothenburg in less than a week. General Moore is on board the
  _Mars_, and not an officer is to be seen on shore, as the Fleet is
  to sail at three o’clock.

       *       *       *       *       *

                                                 _Amity Brig, May 10._

  Got under way at 4 o’clock P.M. Wind blowing towards evening with
  rain, and threatened a gale; moderated again, and the moon rose in
  unclouded majesty.

  Fine clear night. List of men-of-war of the convoy. _Mars_ 74,
  _Audacious_ 74, _Tigress_ 16, ---- 16, and _Piercer_.

       *       *       *       *       *

_Friday 13._--All last night hazy weather, moderate breezes; in the
morning thick fog--so thick that not a ship in the Fleet could be
discovered except at intervals, although the voices of the people
aboard could be distinguished.

The faint form of the ships, at times in the fog, had rather a sublime
appearance. The Commodore was on our starboard beam, which we knew by
his occasionally firing guns of guidance; the sound was very near, but
the flash could not be perceived. About twelve o’clock he made a signal
to alter the course, and at two o’clock he made another signal, and we
had some anxiety lest a mistake should make us lose the Fleet.

At about three o’clock, however, the fog cleared away, and discovered
the Commodore close on our larboard-quarter, steaming the same course
with us, some thirty or forty miles from the coast of Jutland.

These Baltic fogs are extremely unpleasant, and lie chiefly on the
shoal called Jutland Reef. The vessel was obliged to be constantly
beating drums and ringing bells, lest some other ship should come upon
her unknowingly, from the perfect obscurity in which we were involved.

_Tuesday, May 17._--Wind blowing very fresh and a heavy sea. At a
quarter before three had Gothenburg on the lee beam. At half-past three
pilot came on board, at four anchored near Elfsborg Castle; experienced
much pleasure from the force of contrast--coming at once from very
rough sea-weather into harbour, and leaving the waves in the lurch.

Aspect of Gothenburg Harbour very wild and bleak.

_Wednesday 18._--May go on shore, but not to sleep. Mr. Hindmarsh takes
us in his boat and we land at Tod’s Quay.

After entering the gates of Gothenburg, we went into a shop to inquire
for an inn, and found a very pretty boy translating English into
Swedish. His book was entitled _Village Dialogues_. He spoke English
very well, and also French and German, and was exceedingly modest and
well-behaved. His father stood by, and contemplated the acuteness of
his son with delight, pleased to find that he could make Englishmen
understand him.

We proceed, meet a gentleman, and ask for an inn where a dinner might
be got.

“’Twas a shocking place,” he said, but told us of an hotel. I then
asked where I could hear of foreigners who might be in Gothenburg.
“Did not know. Who did I want?” “Sir Brooke Boothby.”[15] Had seen him
that morning; showed me where he lived--“_Not at home_.” Go to dine at
Eryxon’s and find party of officers. After dinner go again to call
on my uncle (Sir Brooke Boothby), whom I had not seen for nine years.
We were delighted to see each other; had tea, walked to Tod’s Quay,
embarked at nine, and was on board at 11 P.M.

General Stewart is the kindest creature in the world. He went the other
day to ask the General (Sir John Moore) to appoint me his aide-de-camp,
as the brigadier-generals were to be allowed them; but General Moore’s
answer was, that he intended me for himself.

If the General has an opportunity of putting his intentions into
execution, I shall have the situation which I wish for more than any
other in the Army. But my mind misgives me that we shall come home
without achieving or seeing anything.

[Illustration:

                                                  _Sir Joshua Reynolds._

PENELOPE BOOTHBY.

Born 1785. Died 1791.

_Only Child of Sir Brooke Boothby, Bart._]

My uncle has introduced me to the best society here. We went to a ball
on board the _Victory_ the other day, and the prettiest lady said to
me in very pretty broken English, “Wan I dance wid you, sair, I will
assure you dat I wish we dance de whole long of de sheep”; and when the
two dances were over, she said, “Sair, I tank you; I will assure you
it is de plaisantess dance I dance to-day.” Seeing me smile she added,
“You not belief it. Ah! it is true!” I went simpering up to another
lady and said, “What a very fine day, ma’am, for our party.” She
curtseyed, and uttered from her throat with a smile, “Bakkelseg Morgon
Vakka Thikka Pukk,” and so I simpering replied as if I understood her,
“Yaw, yaw, Pukk,” bowed and went away.

_June 14, 1808._--Agree with Wilmot, Sandham, and Foster to go to
Trollhättan, and on Friday, 17th, at 5 A.M. start in two gigs with
two horses each, arriving at half-past one, after a pleasant journey
of fifty-two miles, stopping an hour on the road. The waterfall fell
below my expectations, although it be terrible to stand close beside
an enormous body of water in motion so rapid; but the view from below
is much less grand and astonishing than I can conceive a cataract to
be, nor do I think my ideas of the tremendous much invigorated or more
defined than they were before, and as a proof that the cataract did not
fill or satisfy the mind, I observed, that on beholding it, I ever cast
my eyes to the lofty precipice on the right, saying to myself, “Oh,
that it came tumbling over that!” The canal was just what I expected,
and a most laudable work.

_June 19._--Start for Ström at four. This road offers to the eye of
the traveller much picturesque beauty. A great part of it lies as if
through a beautiful English park, and from the excellence and trimness
of the road and culture of the verdure you imagine yourself in some
studied approach to a great man’s house, while the beautiful gleams of
the romantic Gotha, seen through the trees, make you exclaim, “Happy he
whose eye is frequent on such a prospect.” The Gotha is an exquisitely
beautiful river: its waves are true silver and azure; its banks are
green, enamelled with flowers, embossed with dwellings, and feathered
with woods; and its stately windings are frequently caught through an
irregular perspective colonnade of the trunks of trees, while their
beautiful foliage embowers you above, and calms and attunes your mind
to the beauties of the farther prospect. Its vessels never overpower
it (I mean as landscape), that is to say, you never think of a crowd
of masts, of coals, of bawlings, of canals, and all the horrors of
navigation.

A graceful sail now and then glides swiftly through the trees, or
dimples the silver surface, the here-and-there cascade having eminent
beauty, deserving of notice; and the cultivated fields enwrapping the
hills.

The skirts of the vast cataracts at Trollhättan, and indeed at Edet,
are applied to the sawing of timber; and in various parts of Sweden the
sledgehammer is raised, the borer driven, and the polisher whirled by
the same perpetual power.

_Thursday, June 30._--Sir John Moore embarked last night. Learn that he
had been a prisoner at Stockholm, and had made his escape. See General
Stewart; learn that the point in dispute between the General and the
King[16] had been the attack upon Norway, which His Majesty had stated
was impossible, but in a subsequent conversation, being reminded of
this statement, he denied it in the most positive terms.

The General said, “Not only I, but Colonel Murray, heard you; but if
your Majesty says you did not say so, I must have misunderstood you.”

The King accuses him of disrespect--in a rage.

Sir John, to pacify, concedes so far as to say he will wait for further
despatches, but on going home and reflecting, finds his instructions
too positive to admit of it, and apprises the King that he must depart
from the country.

The King sends to him in the middle of the night to say that he must
not leave Stockholm without his permission.

The General immediately despatches a messenger to embark every part of
the army, and remonstrates upon the detention. No answer; but the next
day a repetition of prohibition arrives.

Sir John takes a drive in the curricle of the Secretary of Legation
beyond the first stage, where he is taken up in his plain clothes by a
messenger, who, with his courier’s pass, gets along uninterrupted. He
arrived at Gothenburg on Wednesday, 29th June, and pushed off for the
_Victory_. Only the Admiral knew him.

_Saturday, July 2._--The General desires to see Burgoyne and me
immediately, and we go on board the _Victory_.

Sir John Moore informs us that the Admirals, particularly Keats, are
anxious about the little island of Sproe in the Great Belt, upon which
during winter the French might establish themselves, and harbour
gunboats, to the annoyance of the passage in summer.

The French had designed to possess it, and built a barrack on it, and
there is a probability that next winter they may complete their design,
which formerly they began too late.

The Admirals desire to forestall the enemy, and I must go to see if
the nature of the island and our means admit of such a defence being
established before the necessary departure of the Fleet. The British
have destroyed the barrack made by the French, so that barracks,
storehouses, etc., for the troops must be established, as well as
fortifications.

_Sunday, July 3._--Get up at 3 A.M.; pack. At four pilot comes on
board. Fleet gets under way. At seven Admiral sends on board and takes
me away.

Go on board the SUPERB. No instruments, no colours. Apply to be sent
on board the _Victory_ to see Sir John Moore. Sir John comes up
himself to take me to the Admiral’s breakfast. General Stewart brings
instructions; Admiral very civil.

Sail with a convoy of merchantmen and the _Etna_ towards the Belt. The
army leaves for England.

_July 5._--Heavy foggy weather with rain; coast of Jutland in sight.

_July 6._--Came in sight of Sproe. Next morning I go on shore with
surveying implements, half survey it, and next day complete survey.
_Superb_ in sight. As I go on shore in the afternoon, I receive a note
from Admiral Keats to breakfast with him, and come again on board the
_Superb_. Takes me altogether into the cabin. I enlarge my scale of
plan, and prepare it for the field.

_Sunday, July 10._--_Victory_, _Edgar_, and _Cruizer_ in sight,
entering the Belt. Admiral Keats takes me a _divil_ of a row to meet
the _Superb_. Captain Graves dines there, and begs the boys to go
on shore. Joey Easterbrook prefers it to the Admiral’s dinner. Poor
FitzClarence left behind. “It was a cruel thing,” he said. After dinner
ye Admiral, Captain Graves, and myself, go on shore. Boys shoved off
ere our arrival. Admiral snuffs the green air; walk over the ground,
gather wild spinach, return on board. The youngsters were in dismay!
The Captain’s Newfoundland dog Tigress having run down a sheep, which
had taken refuge in the sea, they feared it would be laid to them, but
they had neatly skinned it, and hoped their mess would benefit by it.
Little rascals! The Admiral, from prudential motives, took particular
care that they should not taste it.

Dear little Georges begged the officer on deck to let him put me on
board the _Brunswick_. This began our friendship. He put me on board,
I having agreed with Admiral Keats that, as I should finish with the
island to-morrow, I should again come on board the _Superb_.

_Tuesday, July 12._--This day drew up my report. Ships weigh, and
anchor again.

_July 19._--Desired by Sir James to travel in plain clothes. Make
necessary change. Signal made, “Send Mr. Boothby on board the _Swan_
cutter immediately. Make haste.”[17]

Sit down in the cabin with a party of particular friends. Georges in
the chair, Lord Bury on my right hand, little Johnny Russell over
against me. Boat ready; cutter waiting. Take an affectionate leave of
my friends, Georges, Lord Bury, and Johnny, and part from Admiral Keats
in the kindest manner; indeed, his behaviour and friendly conduct had
quite attached me to him.

When taking leave of the wardroom officers I am entreated below to
wine, steadily refuse, but Captain Jackson being gone with the Admiral,
Mr. Crowe, the first lieutenant, orders me to be carried below, upon
which officers, youngsters, and marines surround me, and spite of
a strenuous resistance, carry me bodily by neck and heels into the
wardroom, where I drink adieu.

Sent on board the _Admiral_ to receive more despatches. Get on board
the cutter; nasty odious little thing. Pass close under the _Superb’s_
stern. All hands crowd the poop, and actively wave me many farewells.

Wind foul; go to bed.

_July 20._--Wind still fouler. Change our tack, and at length conceive
hopes of arriving at Ystad, a pretty-looking town as seen from the
distance; but nothing can be more park-like and beautiful than the
shores of the Great Belt.

Get on shore about 5 P.M. Sailors take up my baggage. Go to the inn.
Mr. Lucas brings Mr. Strom (clerk to an Ystad merchant), who undertakes
my passports, horses, etc. Asking about Swedish travelling, it appears
that robbing or breach of trust are species of dishonesty unknown to
the Swedes. Send my baggage off at ten, start at eleven. No moon, good
horses. As I go along, astonished to see the sea on my right hand. “How
the devil,” said I, “can this be?”

The sea, in or out of sight, must be to the left hand. But still
I saw the sea approaching even to the edge of the road, broken by
beautiful ports, isles, and rocks. “Diable,” said I, “what call you
dat?” pointing to a fine harbour, embossed with islands and romantic
shores. The driver looked, but returned no answer, for he saw nothing
but the white mist arising from the face of the earth. The deception
was complete. A bank on the left of the road obstructed my view, but on
the right it commanded an extensive tract of country. The thick, white,
shining mists lying in the low grounds gave them the exact appearance
of water at that dusk time of night, while mountains in their range
sketched out the harbours and islands which I had discovered.[18]

Overtake my baggage, and arrive.

_July 21._--At Everslip by half-past one. Dispatch the holker for
horses. Go into a room in the house, like an oven; no light, but merely
darkness visible; lie on a sofa; see a black many-legged reptile glide
across the wall; start up and go out to meet my baggage.

Men impatient for payment. “What will you have?” “For my two horses,
five dollars.” “Rascal! I will give you one and a half, which I know
to be right, and a half for yourself.” “Very right, tanka,” said he.
Baggage arrives--relieved.

Daylight now, as with a mantle, robed our world, and bade fictitious
seas and white mists yield the deceptive mask. And now I took the reins.

    Crick, crack, the horses fly,
    At every click more swift they hie.

Sudden each blade of grass, each feathered shrub, gleamed golden
bright, and turning to the east, the glorious orb above the hills
exalted half his disk.

    This morn his crimson robe he chose, translucent,
    That sheds its glowing tints on every mound,
    And spreads its warm refulgence o’er the ground.

Arrive at Regerberg much tired, and roost. Wait for horses; start at
half-past twelve, and arrive at Glumslouf. View beautiful--wooded banks
of Zealand, Copenhagen spires. Meet divers Swedish nobles; they are
diverted at the manner in which I expedite the hostler. “Holker,” said
I, and he looking back, I shake a bag of halfpence at him, and he runs
like blazes.

Arrive at Helsingborg at five; much delighted as I approach with the
view of Zealand.

The _Orion_ and _Vanguard_ and _Calypso_ in the Sound, and beautiful
Cronberg Castle beyond them.

Drive to Mr. Fenwick, the British Consul, and deliver letters. He,
a gentlemanlike young man, actively obliging, procures me a room,
and invites me to his house. Covered with dust and sweat, I plunge
delightedly, and lave my limbs, then I robe myself afresh, and freed
from all my dirt, sally forth and drink tea at the Consul’s. The
boat announced, we proceed on board the _Orion_, and I deliver my
despatches. As Admiral Bertie is not on board, I reclaim them, and
pursue him to the _Vanguard_. Return on shore, sup with Mr. Fenwick,
who gives me a snuff-box. Go to bed at twelve.

_July 22, Friday._--Get up half-past 2 A.M., open the window, to find a
midshipman looking for me, so I dress quick and send baggage to boat.

Admiral had said at daylight the _Calypso’s_ instructions should be
perfectly ready. Get on board about four--delightful brig. Captain goes
on board the _Orion_; no despatches yet. Fine breeze, which would shoot
us by Cronberg Castle and the swarming gunboats, blowing to waste. At 2
P.M. calm.

Signal made by telegraph: “Come on board; bring the engineer.” So we go
on board, and _Calypso_ weighs; as the breeze rises away we go; there
is no firing, and we dart along.

_July 25, Monday._--Fall in with a Dutch fishing-boat and board her,
and get ten or a dozen very large cod. Fish ourselves; catch numerous
mackerel in a light breeze--beautiful dying--green, blue, red, and
rose. Becalmed. Plumb for cod; catch plenty, very large codfish and
ling, also a dogfish. Cabinetmaker begs the skin to finish off his
work. This evening the sun set in unusual splendour; he sank down
into a thick indigo bank, whose edges he tinged with colours dipt in
heaven. Sky tinctured green, and all above was yellow golden radiance,
richly fretted in vapours, which blended off to the wilder clouds in
the richest roseate glow. The sea was glassy smooth, but heaved gently
with majesty, in her borrowed robe of gold refulgent, while in the east
a perfect bow shone in full colours, striding over heaven, an arch
superb, which the reflecting waves joined underneath again, making the
round complete:--

    The horizon round was dim, sublime,
    And wild, warm clouds mingled with ocean line.

Rain,--imperceptible breeze; slip through at four knots. 140 miles from
Yarmouth.

_July 28, Thursday_, 4 A.M.--Fair wind, going nine miles per hour.
Board a suspicious vessel like a French privateer and find her a
Greenland schooner. Heavy rain, dirty weather, close to Norfolk coast.
Anchor for the night.

_July 29, Friday_, 4 A.M.--As we were getting up anchor the fog came
on very thick. And though the wind at length relents, the envious fog
still obscures the entrance to port; as it clears away we weigh anchor
about 1 P.M., at which time I land, having preceded in the gig with
Captain Bradby.

I wait upon Admiral Douglas, and hear that Sir J. Moore is at
Portsmouth and expected to sail hourly. After this very fretful. Go
on board again to make distribution of bag, but return immediately
and get on shore half an hour before the mail starts. Take my place.
In the mail are two men in coarse jackets and trousers, just escaped
from France, having broken their parole. The joy of having escaped
seemed entirely to fly away with all compunction, if indeed they had
any conscience. They had undergone great hardships, so I smothered the
severity of my disapprobation.

_July 30._--Go to the Blenheim Hotel, Bond Street. Find that General
Moore has taken care that I shall follow him. The General invites me to
breakfast to talk of my report. See Sir R. Milnes. Call on Mrs. Meynell.

_July 31._--Breakfast with General Moore. Office to-morrow. No tidings
of baggage. Write letters home.

                                      BLENHEIM HOTEL, NEW BOND STREET,
                                              _July 31, 1808_.

  MY LOUISA--First let me tell you that I am going to-morrow to
  Portsmouth to join or follow Sir John Moore, so hope not to see me
  just yet.

  Having completed my services in the Baltic, I arrived at Yarmouth
  yesterday, and hearing that Sir J. Moore only waited for a wind,
  I was upon tenterhooks until in London, so half an hour after I
  landed I put myself into the mail, and arrived here at nine o’clock
  this morning. “Keep moving” has been for some time my motto.

  Now, my own lass, have I much to discourse with thee about.
  There is my journey to Trollhättan and my peregrinations in the
  Baltic, my travels again through Sweden, all which, as I kept a
  circumstantial journal, you shall be sure to have. The civility
  and kindness of Admiral Keats, with whom I lived, made my stay
  quite delightful. After I had been on board three days it was
  necessary to transfer me to another line-of-battle ship, and when
  I was going he told me he should be back in a few days: “And
  then, if you please, you shall take up your quarters with me.”
  This pleased me much, and when he did return he took me into his
  cabin, and I was as happy as the day was long, although very hard
  worked. He is by all the Navy esteemed now the first character in
  it, and all his officers, although they dislike him, absolutely
  swear by him in a professional point of view, and acknowledge
  that they believe a better or more tender-hearted man does not
  exist, but still he is disagreeable on duty. He, as Captain Keats,
  commanded the _Superb_ in Admiral Saumarcy’s action off Algeciras,
  dashed in between two Spanish three-deckers, and, giving each a
  broadside, passed clear in the smoke and engaged another ship of
  equal force, which he sank. Meanwhile the two Spaniards continued
  by mistake to fight each other in the smoke until they both blew
  up; thus by such conduct he destroyed three line-of-battle ships.
  All the great folks send their sons under his charge, and admirably
  kind and masterly he is with them. A son of the Duke of Clarence
  is with him, a fine lad. I never saw such delightful boys. The
  Admiral makes them write sham letters to him every Saturday.
  My favourite, little Georges, gave an account of a sea-fight.
  “My Lords,” he says, “I enclose a copy of my letter to Admiral
  Easterbrooke (another monkey just like himself), and in an event
  of this importance I have thought it necessary to send my first
  lieutenant, Hawkins (another), to whom I refer your Lordships for
  any further, etc., and beg to recommend him, etc., as an officer
  of distinguished merit, etc.,” and so on.

  The Admiral has a favourite little dog and a favourite cow. “I
  think it very odd, Mr. Georges,” said he, “that none of you
  youngsters have had the civility to write to my dog or cow; it
  would do just as well to exercise you; besides, you might take a
  sly fling at the Admiral.”

  So next time young Georges writes:--“Dear Madam Cow,” begging her
  to bestow a little of her great bag of milk on the youngsters--a
  pretty broad hint to the Admiral. But what prattle is this! I
  delivered my papers to the chief engineer this morning, the
  originals of which are sent, I fancy, to Lord Castlereagh and the
  Admiralty. My chief received me very graciously. I learned from
  him with great joy that General Moore had applied to Lord Chatham
  to have me follow him, and that his Lordship had acceded; but as
  General Moore does not command in chief, I have no staff hopes, for
  the present at least.

  The people in this house speak in raptures of dearest old Dad....
  Do you write by return of post, and I shall write to-morrow, and in
  the meantime, my dearest Lou, Heaven have thee in its holy keeping.

                                                              CHARLES.

I breakfast with my chief to-morrow, and only wait my baggage from
Yarmouth.

I think after a Spanish or Portuguese campaign I may rest a bit,
and perhaps a peace will bless the world and fetter Buonaparte, for
unfettered the rascal cannot be left.

_August 2._--Wretchedly fidgety about my baggage. Get a letter from
Bradby telling me where to find it, as it has been delayed by the
Custom House officers.

_August 4, 5 o’clock_ A.M.--Start on the stage for Portsmouth, having
sent my baggage on before.

                                          “PENELOPE” TRANSPORT (P.S.),
                                               _August 9, 1808_.

  DEAREST LOUISA--Here I am embarked, and your letters in future
  had better be addressed to me with the expedition under Sir Harry
  Burrard and sent to the engineers’ office.--Ever yours,

                                                              CHARLES.

_August 9, Tuesday._--N.E. Bustle aboard the _Penelope_ brig. Get on
board at twelve. Get under way.

N.W. Tossing ten at night. God send a good passage. Forty-two sail,
including the convoy.

_August 10, Wednesday._--Off. St. Albans barely in sight. Foul wind.
At the old work--toss, tack, toss, toss, tack toss, toss tack.
Stercoraceous smells under my berth; porter used to be stored there; a
chance fracture stains the straw and accounts for it.

_August 12._--A very numerous fleet under the land, sailing up Channel.
Breeze freshens. Cool dry weather. An Italian tailor told me to-day
that the English have good pay, but that in five weeks in London he
spent all he had gained in the rest of the year. When mirth sat in the
heart and money lay in the pocket he could not resist it, he said; and
what with dances, coaches, dresses, and feasts, guineas flew out like
dust, and he was forced to come to sea again!

Breeze increased at about 11 P.M.; blew very hard; short high sea;
signal to veer, and sail on starboard tack.

_August 13, Saturday_, 2 A.M.--A gale S.W. very high. Suppose at
daylight he will run for Plymouth. _Rendezvous_ signal. Plymouth Sound.
Anchor outside the Drake Islands at 8 P.M.

_August 14, Sunday._--Weigh and get within the bight. Write letters.

                                                 PLYMOUTH SOUND,
                                         “PENELOPE” BRIG, _August 14_.

  SWEET SISTER--Encountering a S.W. gale has led us a sad rakish
  life. We were glad to put in here to-night, an operation which the
  thickness of the weather rendered very bothering.

  As the wind may blow contrary some time, write to me here, directed
  Army under Sir H. Burrard, Plymouth, or elsewhere.

  Chickens all well, but Jack and I cannot get the ducks to eat
  now; they waddle about and crack their toes. Jack’s great delight
  (Jack is the cabin boy, my only companion) is my solicitude about
  the ducks, and I thought he never would have done laughing when I
  told him to clean away some tar from the coop because it made them
  sneeze; and when we turned them out to exercise the other day, one
  tried to quack and could not, so Jack said, “He’s speechless,
  sir.” We anchored at eight o’clock--sad, sad work. Should have been
  half way to Lisbon.--Ever yours,

                                                              CHARLES.

_August 15, Monday._--French prize brought in yesterday, a fine brig of
war of eighteen guns. She was in company with a corvette and another
brig of equal force. They gave chase to an English twenty-gun ship,
which disguised herself and stopped her way. The brig that was taken
outsailed the other and began to engage the Englishman, upon which the
corvette and other brig crowded sail and made off, while their more
honourable companion, after fighting thirty-five minutes, was taken.

[Illustration]

_August 19, Friday._--Wind fresh, six knots, smooth water. At evening
a bird flying like a duck met the ship, and lighted on the foretopsail
yard, where he began looking up and down and all about, peering, as it
were, with his long flexible neck and long beak. When it became dark,
Antonio, a cunning, merry Italian, went aloft to try to catch him,
at which everybody cried, “Fool!”--As he perched with his face aft,
the man got on the foreside the sail (they wondered how the devil he
managed it), and we could see his hands glide under the yard until they
laid hold of the animal, which he brought down with him upon deck, the
enraged creature snapping at him all the time with great dexterity.

[Illustration]

He was very savage and the size and colour of a large goshawk, but a
much slimmer-bodied bird; his pinions, plumage, tail, and standing
position of his body like a hawk; his head but very slightly deviating
from the bulk of his neck; sleek appearance; his long beak hooked at
the end of the upper limb; his eyes, light blue, yet wild, ardent, and
piercing, were placed close to the sit of the beak; his legs short and
thick, of a black colour; his feet large, long, and triangular, the
webs white, and claws at the ends of the toes.

Unfortunately and thoughtlessly Antonio’s wish to have his wing cut was
complied with, and he would not eat.

_August 20, Saturday._--At 6 P.M. land discovered well on the larboard
bow; supposed neighbourhood of Cape Ortegal. Blowing exceeding hard,
heavy sea, eight knots. Bird won’t eat.

_August 21, Sunday._--3 A.M. wind drops. Eight o’clock thick fog;
not yet weathered Cape Finisterre. Having seen the land at no great
distance, and the strange bird refusing all food, I proposed to
liberate him, thinking that of two chances for his life that was the
least desperate, namely, his being able to row to some land where he
might seek his food unassisted by flight. Accordingly the string was
taken from his leg and he was left at large. After walking about a
bit, he came in sight of the water through the door of the gangway
that had been opened for him. He immediately perched upon the edge of
the vessel, looking earnestly about as if to discover land, tried his
wings, seemed sensible of the defect, but at last he stooped and soon
reached the water.

We had endeavoured to palliate the injury by cutting the other wing
exactly in the same manner as the first, not pinioned, merely the ends
of the feathers taken off. When he reached the water he rowed from the
ship with amazing swiftness and began to wash himself and play with
infinite delight, plunging his head into the water, and seeming in
complete enjoyment. The ship was stealing on about a mile and a half an
hour, and we had lost sight of the bird, when, to our great surprise,
he hove again in sight, and seemed pulling after the ship as hard as he
could. There was a very heavy swell, and we could see him dive up hill
and down, and gain upon the ship astonishingly fast. We still could
hardly think he wished to come on board again, until he came close
alongside, and kept close to the gangway (where he had gone from the
ship), looking up with anxiety. A man was then let down to the water’s
edge, when, instead of pulling off, the bird came to him with open
mouth, clapping its wings, and showed the utmost impatience to be taken
up. When he came on board he was much fatigued and his plumage was
wet. He still refused to eat, but a little fish and water was put down
his beak, which he swallowed. He seems weak and ill, and I fear will
die before we are able to relieve him. He is become tame, however, and
has his liberty about the deck, and he knows he may go when he likes,
which I hope comforts him. I would give two guineas at this moment
(and I have but six) to restore him those bits of feathers of which
he was robbed; but, at any rate, he is no longer disgusted with the
nastiness of the ducks, with whom we put him at first, in hopes they
might get acquainted and induce him to take pot-luck with them; but
he treated them with the most scorning contempt, and seemed to think
them most filthy companions, and the devotion and animation with which
he cleansed himself from their filth when he got into the water was
quite beautiful to see. At twelve it cleared up so as we could see the
land--Cape Finisterre. Light breeze. Fog gone.

_August 22, Monday._--This morning the strange bird at four o’clock
leapt again from the side and pulled from the ship with a swift and
steady course until out of sight. He kept up his looks amazingly well,
and probably the fish and water stuffed down his throat sustained him,
and, as if aware that he had exhausted himself before, he never stayed
to wash or amuse himself. Fare him well.

_August 24, Wednesday._--Fogs, foul wind, good breeze towards evening.
Land ahead. Signal made for Mondego, and bear away accordingly.

_August 25, Thursday._--A nice breeze at 12 A.M. and very clear. Sandy
shore, sand hills, north of Mondego. Lay to for three ships astern.

_August 26, Friday._--Breeze blowing right out of harbour. Very angry
at the wind; expect not to get in to-day. At half-past nine boat
alongside. Onions, pears, apples, apricots, bread. Learn from them
that the great fleet is gone to Lisbon, and am then sure that we shall
follow. Soon after signal to steer W.S.W.

_August 27._--Dead calm, fog, rain, heavy sea.

Foul breeze.

Sad work.

_August 31, Wednesday._--At 5 A.M. Rock of Lisbon in sight. Pass
through Sir Harry Burrard’s fleet on their way to England. When we come
abreast of the Rock, seven o’clock, we soon hear from the agent that
the army had made a bad business of the landing, which took place on
the Maer, many lives being lost. It was supposed that we were either to
land in the same place, should the wind favour, or return to Mondego.

An action had taken place, in which Sir H. Burrard was in person. 5000
French taken, 800 British lost. The British forces said to consist of
Sir A. Wellesley’s expedition. Stand in at ten o’clock for the Rock of
Lisbon. Come in sight of the Tagus blockading fleet, under command of
Sir Charles Cotton. Bring to, then go on the starboard tack, and God
knows when or where we shall land. _Eurydice_ leaves us for Halifax.

_September 1._--Still tacking for Lisbon. I go on board--the commander
of the convoy, Captain Mayne--_Primrose_ brig sloop.

Tell him that, being astray, I was just now particularly anxious to get
to the army, as I supposed the Engineers might possibly be actively
employed. He then told me that the game was up, that Junot was allowed
to return to France with his troops and plunder, but that the English
had told the Russian Admiral that he must either surrender or fight;
that Sir J. M. and Sir A. W. were raving at Sir H. D.[19] and Sir H. B.
on account of the terms allowed to General Junot, and that we should go
in to-day or to-morrow. Stand out till twelve. Wind blowing very hard.

_September 2, Friday._--Signal to anchor. Beat up towards an anchorage
near the Rock of Lisbon, where the _African_ and convoy had brought
up last night. At nine o’clock see a Russian flag of truce go to the
British Admiral.

Come to an anchor off Cascaes at two o’clock. Go on shore. See Captain
M’Leod of the _Barfleur_. Find on inquiry that it is not known where
the army was. It had been at Mafia, but it appeared that it was moving.
The 42nd Regiment, commanded by Colonel Stirling, had taken port at
Cascaes. The Colonel despaired of getting important despatches to
Sir Henry, so I determined not to set out for the army until their
situation is known. Write home.

                                         OFF CASCAES, _Sept. 3, 1808_.

  MY LOUISA--After the most tedious and provoking passage we came to
  an anchor yesterday noon off the fortified town named in the date,
  at the entrance to the Tagus. Things are in this situation, General
  Junot having lost a battle, much to the glory of Sir A. Wellesley
  and his army, in which the enemy were nearly two to one. Sir Henry
  Dalrymple, by terms which at the first view appear unaccountably
  favourable to the French, has induced him to capitulate, and he,
  with his troops, are to be sent in our transport to Rochefort, and
  the Russian fleet on the Tagus, we hear, is to be taken to England
  under Russian colours, to await the event of negotiations with the
  autocrat.

  In pursuance of this treaty, Fort São Julião, and all the works and
  places more remote from Lisbon, are already under English colours,
  and it is expected that to-day or to-morrow the embarkation of
  the French will take place. Sir Harry Burrard, they say, arrived
  himself just before the action commenced, having landed at Mondego,
  but left Sir A. Wellesley to carry through the plan of battle,
  which was fully designed. The event was that the enemy were
  amazingly beaten.

  Just as the French had fallen back on their entrenchments, it is
  said that intelligence was brought of Sir J. Moore having arrived
  with 14,000 men, which new situation of things and proportion of
  armies relatively convinced Sir Harry Burrard that the enemy must
  capitulate, and although (it is said) Sir A. Wellesley did all
  but _kneel_, saying that unless he was permitted to follow up the
  glory of the day that of the army would be tarnished, Sir H. B.
  persisted in putting a stop to hostilities, and a capitulation has
  been finally entered into by which the main point is carried, but
  in which the pride of the army and the wishes of the Portuguese
  do hardly appear to have been sufficiently considered. The enemy
  was at our feet, and after very hard fighting the army had a right
  to conquest, and after being ground by their oppressors, the
  Portuguese should have been allowed the natural triumph of seeing
  the objects of their abhorrence humbled.

  I went yesterday to Cascaes, with intent to join the army, but the
  commanding officer (colonel of the 42nd) knew not where it was, and
  could not forward despatches of importance to the General. To-day I
  shall go to the Fort São Julião and make a stout attempt to get to
  them, but all fighting is over here. Farewell, own lass.

                                                              CHARLES.

_September 3, Saturday._--_Penelope’s_ boat lands us at Fort São
Julião at one o’clock. Go to Colonel Blunt (commanding 3rd Buffs).
Very civil man. Sends his orderly with us to Ociras to point out the
road to Cintra, where the army is. At Ociras, a mile from Fort São
Julião, get animals. Arrive at the Palace of Cintra, occupied by Sir
Henry Dalrymple. Get an excellent bed, the inn kept by an Irishwoman. A
romantic spot. The mountains of Cintra part of the range of the Rock of
Lisbon.

_September 4, Sunday._--See Squire, Lord W. Bentinck, and Burgos. Walk
with Burgos towards English camp. Meet mules. Return with him and
ascend the mountains of Cintra. Meet General Moore--bon! Reach the
top, crowned with a convent, continuing the very highest peak of the
Rock. Noble view from thence. Take many angles with a righted compass.
Go west over the mountains to a reputed curiosity, which Mulcaster
calls the convent of cork. Find it lined with cork--cork door and cork
ceiling, etc., to keep out damp. Go into refectory; drink and eat.
Table hewn out of the top of an enormous pebble, whose bottom formed
the ceiling of the church. Find Williams and Drevil at the inn, having
come from Sir A. W.’s army. Williams and I sleep at the inn. In the
morning army to move towards Fort São Julião.

_September 6._--Dine with General Moore--bon! Ordered to hold myself in
readiness for Elvas.

_September 10._--Buy two horses at 18 guineas each. Dine with Squire.
Fletcher arrives and tells me I march at four o’clock the following day.

_September 11._--Pack up till two. Row servant. Send artificer off with
baggage and start myself. Arrive at General Moore’s quarters. Go to
Lisbon to embark the horses.

_September 13._--March with regiment and arrive at Vendas Novas,
passing through uninteresting country. Here is a palace belonging to
the Prince capable of containing 10,000 men, stables for 500 horses,
adequate kitchens and water. Beastly contrived, great staring barrack
rather than palace, and the French had torn down wainscoting and false
doors in search of treasure.

Proceed over like country until within five miles of Montemor o Novo,
when it becomes more rich and wooded; indeed, all along the beautiful
foliage of the cork trees greatly relieved the sandy sterility of the
way.

Arrive at Montemor o Novo. Regiment camps out. Get good billet. Wall
round the castle. Examine the position. Sup and sleep excellently.
Silver ewers and covers.

_September 14._--Re-examine position. Nuns of the castle send to say
glad to see us. Breakfast--tea, coffee, bread, butter, honey, eggs,
sweetmeats, oranges--latter sent by the nuns. The Prioress from St.
Domingo--the colour of gold. Eat cakes and see the ravages of the
French in search of money.

Regiment marched through this morning at five o’clock.

Start for Arrayolos, distance twelve miles.

_September 15._--Arrive at Venda do Dogue, apparently a poor farmhouse,
and we found that the farmer was a Captain. I observed that the Captain
was a sensible man, preferring to gain bread by open honest industry
to starving his wife and family by a strained support of gentility;
and on asking whether we might not venture to offer some sort of
compensation for what we were supplied with, my servant told me they
were the richest people in the country; that this was their place of
retirement from their palace in the city! We had a sumptuous breakfast,
with sweetmeats. Started at twelve and reached Estremoz at four--a
walled town with a citadel. Here we find the regiment. Get a billet on
Adjutant Gaze and find that the Spaniards are before Elvas. Propose
to Colonel R. to go forward to reconnoitre. Regiment encamp a league
beyond the town.

_September 16._--At six o’clock start for the camp, and find I had
better not go forward, as Cockburn, who was gone to Lisbon, had brought
intelligence that the Frenchmen had required an officer from Junot
to authenticate the orders of surrender, and a suspension had been
entered into between all parties for six days; also the fort had made
a convention with the town--one not firing, the other not supplying
or admitting the Spaniards. Therefore he thought the appearance of an
Engineer might excite jealousy, etc.

Get permission to go on.

Bring Elvas and Fort La Lippe in view. Arrive at the first post of
cavalry in rear of the Spanish camp. Sent from one camp to the
other, till at last, about two o’clock, we reach the Colonel’s tent
off Badajoz. We step into the tent and join the Colonel and other
officers at dinner--a most excellent mess of rice and salt fish, in a
camp kettle, and first-rate sausages. We get on most merrily. I give
the health of Fernando Septimo. The jolly Colonel roars. Replies the
thundering tent, and the whole camp resounds. Bon!

Conducted to the General. He doubts our errand, and bids us wait the
return of a British officer from Badajoz. This was O’Brien, who had
been sent on before with a communication to the fort.

We said No; if the General would not give us permission to see the
batteries, we would go to Elvas.

The General’s aide-de-camp said that we could not go to Elvas because
of the Convention.

I asked if there was a Spanish guard over the gates. “No.” “Then pass
us through your camp.”

An officer conducted us through the greater part, and pointed out the
road to Elvas and left us.

We were brought up by the advanced posts, commanded by a Colonel of
Cavalry--true Spanish face. He made some difficulty, but passed us at
length, and we arrived at half-past four at the gates of Elvas, where
we sent in for permission to enter the town.

While we were waiting in the sun, sufficiently vexed at our occupation,
up came two Spanish dragoons and said that by order of their Colonel we
must go back with them.

Finding that we were two armed to two, we refused compliance with their
arbitrary message; but soon four more arrived, and intimated that they
were prepared to enforce it. I then desired that we might wait the
answer from within the town, Bernardo damning them into compliance. The
gates at length opened, and a Portuguese officer and guard appeared,
when we were admitted in pomp, and the poor dragoons refused a hearing.
We said we were far from wishing them to enter, and Bernardo set up a
loud laugh. We then went to the General, who took us to the Bishop--a
good man, trembling at the critical situation of his town.

I explained what had happened, and he rather wished our return. I said
we could go there to-morrow on our way home.

He then offered us his country house, and we were taken to the Junta,
of which the Bishop is the head, and it was resolved there that we
should stay. The Bishop told them what I had told him, that there was
no doubt of the French surrendering the town, because the whole French
army was in our power, and it would ruin them if the Convention was
broken. Lodge at the house of a jolly, hospitable Major de bon Cœur.

_September 17._--Start for the Spanish camp at nine o’clock, having
procured credentials from the Judge. Visit the cavalrymen’s tent.
Nothing passes about yesterday. Rains excessively hard. Conducted to
the General; find O’Brien there. Now well received. Get permission to
see the batteries--four 24-pounders and 6 guns,--and am set down to a
ham, the finest I ever tasted.

Return to Estremoz. I, a Christian, talk much by the way to O’Brien, a
sceptic. Agree on poetry. Lose our way five times. Pass through Borba,
the prettiest Portuguese place yet seen. Arrive at Estremoz, and get
some dinner at Colonel R.’s.

_September 18, Sunday._--Seek for breakfast. Find in a coffee-house a
nauseous party of Portuguese officers, who gamed and drank and smoked
and stank. The dignified commander of cavalry--a yellow individual
covered with dirt and stars--undertook to ask for what we wanted,
as he spoke French. I told him we wanted bread, honey, coffee, and
boiled eggs. I watched his interpretation to the women. He said these
gentlemen want “bread, honey, coffee, and eggs, all boiled together,”
to explain which he made a motion with his hand to stir it about.
The woman looked petrified, and we roared, and the cavalier was
confounded. Swallow our breakfast. Get another billet.

Colonel R. has a field day in the square, to show the people how to do
it, which went off admirably.

_September 19._--Colbourn returns at 5 A.M. with a French officer,
a nice little fellow with a red face, much tired by attending
Colbourn’s rapid steps from Lisbon. We arrived at the camp, and at the
General’s found some difficulties--no admittance to the fort without
communicating with Badajoz. A messenger was despatched, and we said we
would go to Elvas. That could not be permitted. They begged we would
remain with the General until the return of the messenger, which would
be at six o’clock. Colbourn said first of all, “Very well”; but upon
consulting, we agreed it would be better to go to a village about a
league off and return at six. We communicated this to the A.D.C., who
seemed much troubled, and said his General understood we should remain,
and would be much better pleased if we did.

“But we have changed our minds.”

“Ah! but I don’t know whether the General will permit it.”

“What! would he keep us prisoners here?”

“Oh, no.”

Upon which he ran to the General and returned with answer, “That we
must do as we pleased.”

We then went to a house about a league off, ate some bread and fruit,
and returned at 6 P.M. to find the messenger not returned, nor post
horses from Elvas arrived.

The having the French officer with us in the Spanish camp, where every
one was ready to cut his throat, gave us some uneasiness, for we
witnessed in the Spanish, officers and all, a hatred not to be overcome
for a moment. The Adjutant-General came to me and whispered, “Is that
an Englishman?” “No,” said I, “French.” He started away, and the effect
it had on him immediately called to my mind the case of a man with
hydrophobia at the sight of water. They would offer him nothing to
eat, although they saw him sinking for want of refreshment and rest.
So whatever they gave us we offered to him before we would touch it.
Even the old cook who filled my glass with a smiling face settled his
countenance into a solemn gloom as he transferred the mouth of the
bottle to the Frenchman’s cup.

This sort of thing made us determine to decline the entreaty of the
General and to sleep in a small town called Bersim, in which Colbourn
knew a house where our charge would be secure.

“Et me voilà à cheval encore,” said he as we left the camp. Our
kind demeanour to him contrasted with the Spanish scowl; our jokes,
loud laughter, and general merriment seemed to give him the utmost
confidence in our protection. He was about seventeen years old, with a
florid countenance and slight form; a page to Napoleon and a lieutenant
in the 1st Regiment of Dragoons.

When we arrived at our house about ten o’clock the master received
us very well, and immediately began talking of the French, asked if
they were all embarked, and hoped we would send them to the bottom. At
this the little Frenchman cocked his ears, and bursting with laughter,
asked if he did not tell us to send ’em to the bottom. This afforded us
much amusement a great part of the night. We put the Frenchman in the
middle, that they might have the less chance of finding him.

_September 20._--O’Brien and I, getting up, could not perceive the
head of the Frenchman, so we removed softly the cloak to see whether
it was on all safe. Our host coming in about six, I asked him how he
did, saying, “England for ever! no Frenchmen!” which made our little
friend laugh right heartily. The old man again hoped we should send
them to the bottom. “Why?” said the Frenchman. “_Because they are
good-for-nothing fellows_,” said the host. At last he began to suspect,
by our laughter, the difference of uniform, and the two different
languages, which he perceived we spoke among us, that all was not
right, and I being dressed in blue and the Frenchman in green, he set
us both down for Frenchmen; and though I assured him I was English, all
the household looked at me with a very doubting civility afterwards.

At ten o’clock we started again for the camp, and arrived there
about twelve. The answer had arrived, and the Spanish General Galazo
admitted of our communication with the fort, but sent thither at the
same time some ridiculous proposals of his own. We set out for the
fort accompanied by a Spanish aide-de-camp. The commander of the
fort was General Novellard. After settling our business, the Spanish
aide-de-camp proposed from his General that the French should evacuate
the fort in twenty-four hours and lay down their arms on the glacis.

The Frenchman, instead of reply, gave him a most severe rowing upon
the little attention paid by the Spaniards to the laws of war. The
officers, he said, had neither probity nor honour. “If,” said he, “you
recommence the fire, I shall destroy Elvas, while all the harm you
can do to me will be the loss of ten or fifteen Frenchmen; the harm
you do to the fort will injure your friends and allies the English,
whose possession it now is. I had hoped that this business would have
been ended in a manner worthy of civilised soldiers, and that all our
rancour, our hatred, and our courage would have been reserved for
another field of battle. I will have no communication with you. If you
send a flag of truce I shall fire upon it; so you have served mine.
There are forty Spaniards (besides two, my prisoners, who have broken
their parole) offered for three French prisoners in your hands. I have
made this offer twenty-five times unanswered! I consider this fort
is an English possession, and in the execution of a treaty under the
sanctity of the French word we will all perish. Messieurs Anglais, come
to your fort; its guns shall protect your approach; here you shall be
lodged, but I cannot march out my garrison until the Spaniards have
decamped, for they are not soldiers, and in spite of all treaties,
would assassinate my people in the road.”

So spake General Novellard, a keen, cool, sensible Frenchman with a
hawk’s eye.

In reminding the Spaniards that the Convention of Lisbon allowed
them to show themselves again on the Spanish frontier, as well as in
the drift of his whole speech, he showed a cunning desire to set us
together by the ears.

But although the Spaniards had provoked us, and we enjoyed the whole
thing, we refused even a smile, or motion of assent or approbation.

The Spaniard was greatly agitated, and spoke bad French. He said he had
no plans.

We then went to Elvas without asking leave of the Spaniards. Got
post-horses there, O’Brien and I leaving our own horses. While
taking our coffee we talked much with a Spanish Brigadier-General,
who complained of our Convention. “We were sending 20,000 men (whose
throats they had fondly hoped to cut), with their arms in their hands,
upon the Spanish frontier. These men,” he said, “had committed such
enormities, that even though a different conduct on the part of our
General had caused the erasure of Lisbon and the death of half its
population, it would have been witnessed with shouts of joy, so long as
the French themselves were included in the crash.”

“Well, but,” said I, “we have just brought you 10,000 Spaniards from
Denmark.” He smiled and said, “He had heard it.” “And,” I added, “if
you will let us assist you, our greatest desire is to go with you into
Spain and help you to drive out the French, whom we long to fight
again. We honour the Spanish nation, and desire to be friends with it
for ever.” He seemed highly pleased, and made some apology for the
dress of their army before Elvas.

I said, “It was no uncommon thing to see soldiers all dressed alike,
but when we saw a Spanish army in the dress of peasants, it reminded us
of the glorious exertions made by the whole body of the Spanish people,
and we honoured them ten times more.”

He seemed delighted, and said that “the Spanish people were the noblest
in the world, that the Government had wished to clothe them, but with
one voice they replied, ‘In the dress of peasants we have rescued our
country and beat the French in Spain; in the dress of peasants we
will utterly destroy them.’” This Spanish General then reprobated the
conduct of Galazo, who, he said, had sent his troops before Elvas in
consequence of the Convention made by the English.

We were now ready to return to the Spanish camp, so we called at the
fort for the French officer, and all started together.

O’Brien’s horse and the Frenchman’s soon knocking up, the former takes
him under convoy, and Colbourn and I ride on.

This was the first of my acquaintance with Colbourn, a sound,
well-judging, good man, having also great refinement of feeling, and I
hope to know more of him.

Colonel Ross sends Colbourn back to get some written extracts of what
the Spanish General proposed. I sleep at the inn.

_September 21._--Colbourn returns about 2 P.M. and sets off with the
French officer to Lisbon.

_September 23._--Regiment marches at 4 A.M. We start at nine, I leading
my horse, Wills and O’Brien theirs, and Bernardo the mule, because of
sore backs. Arrive at Borba, six miles, at half-past ten.

I meet a man on the road to Elvas who tells me he is the richest person
hereabouts, and insists that we shall come to his house, and the ladies
run to us crying Viva! and embracing our knees. We repose on a couch
while breakfast prepares, consisting of chocolate, eggs, bread, pears,
peaches, apricots, angelica, melon, biscuits and macaroons, and a
couple of boiled fowls, with excellent wine.

Arrive at Villavicosa at two. Dine with Colonel Ross. Immense
sweetmeats sent by the nuns. A marquis sends two bottles of pink
champagne, one of white, and one of claret, all excellent.

_September 24._--Colonel Campbell, with two more companies of the 20th
Regiment, march in at 6 A. M.

_September 27._--Ride with O’Brien towards Jeramenha, where the French
are pouring into Spain. Portuguese treasure disgorging at Lisbon.

_September 28._--Regiment marches at four for Elvas. I ride through
the park and overtake the regiment before Villaboim. Ride on before
it to Elvas. Find Colonel Ross, Major Colbourn, O’Brien, and Q.M.G.
at breakfast with the Bishop; a very chaste breakfast and quiet
attendance. Monseigneur gives us a billet upon his provisore. The whole
town in a frenzy of joy, a many-tongued “Viva!” I go out with Colonel
Ross to meet the regiment at the gate. At the corner of a narrow
street a wild-looking Carthusian presented himself, shouting with
all his might, and trembling with agitation, “Viva los nostras amicos
Ingleses,” which he continued to repeat incessantly, accompanied by the
most frantic and terrific gestures.

The Bishop invited all the officers to dinner at three o’clock. Very
pleasant dinner, excellently cooked. Sat between old Byron and Wade,
and enjoyed it much. The Bishop gave several loyal toasts, and a filial
Frenchman (come to seek a wounded father) stood up and bowed with the
rest. He had narrowly escaped assassination two or three times in his
search.

This afternoon I went with Colbourn to see the garrison from Santa
Lucia march to La Lippe, and we perhaps prevented some stragglers on
the road from sharing the same fate. Afterwards I go to my provisore,
an old asthmatic pastor, who understands French, and has in his library
Voltaire, Racine, Molière, and many other interesting books, also the
_Paradise Lost_ of Milton in Portuguese prose. A capital house, with a
charming view into Spain, far over Badajoz.

_September 29._--The next day I walk to Fort La Lippe, and the French
Engineers show me all over the fort, one of them a modest and agreeable
sort of Frenchman, who says, “Cela coutera cher, mais on le prendra.”

Before leaving I come across an Irish rebel, who having been sent to
Prussia and taken by the French, now wishes to serve King George. He
had almost forgotten to speak English.

_September 30._--Bishop’s conversazione in the evening.

It appears that the Junta of Seville did not authorise the interference
of their foolish General Galazo in the affairs of Portugal, and it has
now given him orders to join the Patriot Castanos immediately, so in
obedience the Spaniards have decamped, and we are no longer obstructed
in the performance of our treaties.

There is something quite curdling in the fell spirit of revenge which
has taken possession of the minds of the Portuguese. No desire of
freeing their country, no ardent patriotic zeal can now actuate them
in their thirst for blood, for their oppressors are quelled, the
game is up, and they only desire to get out of the country; and yet
if a poor way-worn French soldier were to lie down and sleep under a
hedge, that the first Portuguese who saw him would cut his throat and
insult his corpse is as indisputable as that an Englishman under such
circumstances would spare and protect him.

Last night as I was going into my room an old gray-headed woman called
to me, and Bernardo (my Italian servant) interpreting, I found she
accused another female of favouring the French.

I took a stick, walked into the kitchen, and jestingly shook it
at the accused, whom, on turning, I perceived to be a very pretty,
pensive-looking lady (for ladies here snuggle round the only fire in
the kitchen), who entered on her defence very gently and persuasively,
saying “that she hated the French as much as any Portuguese ought to
do, but could not enter into the general triumph the other day when the
mob murdered a solitary French officer, who possibly had not committed
the smallest fault against them; nor could she think otherwise than
with horror of those beastly women who ran and plunged their knives
into the bleeding body.”

I laid my fingers on her arm, and then carried them to my lips, in
token of approbation, and shook my stick at the old dame.

The Bishop gave a grand dinner two days ago to all the officers. A
French officer had come with a flag of truce into the town to see the
good man, as his father had been well-nigh assassinated and severely
wounded, but he succeeded in getting him under the protection of the
English surgeon.

The Bishop, who is an excellent man, had him to dinner, because he dare
not trust him in the hands of the people; and we all, by civility and
conversation, endeavoured to assure and comfort him, which gave great
umbrage to the Portuguese.

I shall now for some time be very much occupied, as I am instructed,
after examining Elvas, to inspect the nature of the frontier towards
Spain, an occupation which is unlimited as to time.

_October 5._--French march at six o’clock--1400 men.

I ride on the Estremoz road to the head of the march, and take leave of
General Novellard.

Go to the fort to hunt for plans, and find that Wills has them.

_October 12._--Ordered to Badajoz, and on to make a reconnaissance.
Write home.

                                            ELVAS, _October 12, 1808_.

  MY LOUISA--I am now in much higher mind than when I last wrote,
  for by far the greater part of the army on this Peninsula has been
  placed under Sir John Moore’s command, and is shortly to march into
  Spain, where the glorious, virtuous enthusiasm is the admiration of
  all foreigners.

  We find that the Spaniards are now disposed to send to the devil
  all diffidence of the English, and will be delighted to receive us,
  and to profit by our assistance. I am just ordered a good jaunt
  on the frontier, to the Tagus at Alcantara, to get some local
  information preparatory to the passage of the army into Spain.
  Afterwards I am to join General Paget, at which I am much pleased.

  No time to say more.--Yours,

                                                              CHARLES.

_October 12._--Arrive at Badajoz, and the day following get half a
league onwards. Meet some peasants on the road to Merida, who ask for
our passports. Show them English ones from General Hope, and continue
our way, but they pursue and carry Bernardo and myself back to Badajoz.
I told them that an English passport was good enough, and one fellow
said that it might be in England or Portugal, but not in Spain. I
congratulate myself that it occurred so near Badajoz. Get a passport
from D’Arcy and start again.

Six bitter long leagues to Albuquerque; thirty miles at least of most
uninteresting country.

On arriving at the town I find Colbourn, who has been very near shot
for a Frenchman several times, and thinks I shall be also. He was going
to Salamanca to-morrow.

_October 14._--Start for Salorino, scale a great wood, and find in the
midst a castle. I stop here, and dine with the keeper of these woods
and domains regal, and he promises to give information, and also to
accompany me in finding a road passable for carriages.

He is to take me to Cantillano, but loses his way, and takes me across
the mountains of Piedrabuena to Herreruela over an immense plain.

A very civil good man, and a nice little wife. He told me at parting
“these were neither roads nor times to go without an escort,” and
strongly pressed me to apply for one to the Alcalde.

We arrive at last at Herreruela, twenty-four miles from Albuquerque.
The Alcalde is a dirty artisan.

All the town come into my room and smoke and spit and make me show them
my maps.

A miserable town, and I was glad to leave my abominable host the next
day and start for Alcantara, the carriage road leading us by Villa del
Rey and Cartillano.

_October 16._--All the people marvel at the wonders of my toilette. My
comb, my brush, my tooth-brush and nail-brush, my shaving-brush and
soap were all as much objects of wonder to these peasants as the comb
and watch of Gulliver to the people of Lilliput.

I start from the Cam di Cartillano at eight o’clock, and arrive at
Alcantara at half-past two.

The Tagus here flows between two great mountains, and the bridge is
about 120 feet high.

At the house where I am billeted they are dancing the ballora--very
curious. A handsome youth and lively girl, and another couple, then the
old gentleman joins, others singing and playing the guitar. One pretty
girl, looking half ill-natured, half--I do not know how--bewitching,
sang, and I gazed and tried to find out her lover. As I sit at dinner
the Alcalde (Mayor), dressed excellently with a scarlet cloak, says
he is come to fetch me to his house, sends for wine, cheese, etc.,
and invites me to breakfast to-morrow. They all treat Bernardo as a
gentleman.

Visited the bridge before dinner; go down a mountain to it, and up one
from it.

_October 17._--Take chocolate and biscuit with the Alcalde (Mayor)
and start for Salvatierra, pass the bridge over Tagus and ascend the
Estremadura mountains. Go to Zarza la Mayor, a large town on the high
road to Ciudad Rodrigo, turn westward and go to Salvatierra, a small
Portuguese village, and then on to Segura, a miserable place, but
lodged comfortably in an old priest’s house. On the road we met a man
who said, “Is that an Englishman? I’m very glad of it. I wanted to see
the face of one, for they are fine fellows.” Yesterday, at Alcantara,
the Alcalde, hearing me speak Italian to Bernardo, took me for an
Italian. “I am an Englishman.” “Aye, aye, your passport tells me so.
Yes, yes, English.”

I hope I shall get a good dinner, not having eaten since eight, when I
took a thimbleful of chocolate and a biscuit. It is now six. Bernardo
bought a partridge on the road, and plucked it as he rode along, saying
it was to gain time. He has bought another here. Both now on the fire,
besides cabbage, pork steaks, and fried eggs. The acorns of the cork
trees make this country famous for pork. Bernardo a capital cook. The
priest pulls a partridge to pieces with his fingers!!

_October 13._--Get up at five. Arrive at Rosmaninhal and proceed to
Monforte, four leagues farther, and a prettier place. Start before four
o’clock for Lentiseves, and the guide, as it grows dark, declares he
has lost the road, and does not know which of the two to take. We take
the right, and are so long in finding the place that we are sure of
being wrong. Arrive at Lentiseves by half-past six. The Judge in his
hovel issues his billet and leads us to a miserable cot. I ask for a
better house. There is none. Go with the horses to an excellent stable,
full of wheat straw, and in the house find a good man and woman and a
blazing fire, with fried eggs and bacon and a roast chicken. Sleep in
the corn chamber.

_October 19._--Leave Lentiseves and traverse four tiresome leagues to
Villa Velha, an inconsiderable town, situated curiously on the side
of a lofty mountain, traversing in range the Tagus. In winter it must
roar through them properly, to be sure. There is a mine near, made by a
Moorish king to get to the Queen of Portugal, where she used to grin at
him from the other side.

We go over the mountainous country about two leagues and arrive at
Niza. The Judge, an old fool, and the people where I am quartered in
this large walled town are plaguing me a good deal, so shut up shop.

_October 20._--Start from Niza at three o’clock. Arrive at Alpalhao,
and on to Portalegre, sixteen miles, having passed several villages in
the way. Here we meet Mr. Parr, Commissary, who tells me that General
Moore is gone towards the frontier. General Hope still at Elvas;
General Paget at Estremoz. General Crawford commands.

Leave Portalegre, one of the best and most beautifully situated towns
of Portugal. At mid-day overtake a native of Osamar saying his “Ave
Marias.” Pass a great wood, twelve miles wide, and arrive at Osamar,
a pretty town. Lodge in a beastly house. A priest visits me, a
gentlemanlike man, who speaks French very well. We are now twenty-eight
miles from Elvas.

_October 21._--Start from Osamar and ride three leagues through a wood
and breakfast at Sta. Olaya. Pass through other villages and kintas and
arrive at Elvas. Go to Squire’s quarters. Get letters. Dine at General
Hope’s. Get a billet. Call at the Bishop’s, and sit up writing till
three o’clock. Woodchafers tumble upon and bite me. Go to bed under the
table.

_October 22._--Get up at seven. Write and give in my report of roads.
Dine with the General, and ordered to-morrow to Aliseda, _via_
Albuquerque. Pack up.

_October 24._--Start at seven on post-horses to Campo Mayor and arrive
at Albuquerque at two. The Corregidor not at home. Go to the Secretary,
who gives me a billet; but they won’t take me in. Another ditto;
another ditto. At last I go to Corregidor’s wife to upbraid, and she,
inviting me into the house when the Corregidor comes home, I get him
to press three beasts for me in the morning. While at dinner I hear
Bernardo frantic with rage, and on asking what was the matter, he said,
“Bella cosa, the Governor has commanded this man to bring his mules
to-morrow to carry sugar from Elvas for his consumption.” When the old
deaf Corregidor heard it he was quite raving, danced about and stamped,
his jaws toothless with age.

[Illustration]

The man at last said he would not go without the Governor’s permission.
The Alcalde said he would commit him to prison.

The fellow judged well enough, for he told the Governor that the
Alcalde had bound him in twenty dollars penalty. “And I bind you,”
said the Governor, “in thirty and a month’s imprisonment,” so the
muleteer kept to the strongest side, which in these warlike times was
the military Governor. This being the case, I saw that any trial of
strength between the two Governors would inevitably keep me here until
the decision, so I told Bernardo to bring me my hat and sword. “E dove
dudate,” said he. “To the Governor’s,” said I, “and mind that you
repeat my words to him word for word without a single addition of your
own.”

So I went to the Governor, and told him that I understood he had
pressed my beasts, and that if I found myself impeded in the execution
of my mission I should complain direct to my General, who would carry
it to the central Junta at Madrid.

The Governor then said that the Corregidor had only a divided
authority, and could not press beasts without his permission. Luckily I
caught the scope of what he said, and saw that the business was over,
for Bernardo began to enter into the argument with much spirit, and I,
with a certain amount of vehemence, desired him to interpret and not
converse, which made the immense fat lady die a-laughing.

When I heard where the shoe pinched I said I had nothing to do with
the disputes of Governors and Corregidors, but that these were my
passports, and I was sure that a military Governor would not be
behindhand with a civil one to facilitate the performance of his duty
to a British officer. This had the desired effect, and the fat lady
seemed delighted.

As we went away Bernardo applauded my moderation, and told me it was a
plot of the ladies to draw the Englishman to their house.

_October 25._--Rise and find that the muleteer had made his escape at
midnight. Go to the Governor’s. “In bed.” Send up to say “that I will
despatch a complaint to the General at Elvas.”

“Not his fault,” he says; “the Corregidor should have obtained his
permission to impress the beasts.” I return to my Corregidor’s house,
desire him to provide a man, and write a complaint to the General.
While writing it the Governor’s approach is announced.

“Don Jose Gonsalaz di Madrigal.”

I attended with much interest the collision of these two dignified
bodies, and it was a fine scene. They put their heads close together
and vociferated their claims of superiority.

The Governor was certainly wrong, and the rage of the old Corregidor
reasonable enough.

To me, however, the Governor knocked under, and told me he would punish
the man for making off; so I did not report him, but got one horse from
the Governor and two from the Corregidor.

The wife of the latter seemed rather to fancy me, as she begged me to
return that way, and if I knocked up the horses she would indeed be
angry. She tried to be handsome, but a complaint in her eyes was a most
formidable adversary.

Start, and in the course of the journey tell the guide he was more
stupid than his mule. “What!” says he, “did you say I was more stupid
than my mule?” “Yes,” said I, and he turned away and laughed as if he
could not restrain it. We arrive at four o’clock at Aliseda, six long
leagues from Albuquerque.

_October 26._--Leave Aliseda for Arroyo del Puerco, a large
good-looking town. Return to Aliseda, and then on to Zagala upon asses.

As the sun sets we get into the park of Zagala, thinly covered with
large cork trees and under-spread with smooth pasture. Here, having
the best animal, I, given up to my own thoughts, insensibly ran ahead
of my servant and guide, but the road turning suddenly to the right
and descending to the bed of the river, reminded me of the imprudence
of parting with my servants and baggage, who might take another road.
I therefore pulled up in the midst of the stream, and casting my eyes
upward and around, beheld one of the most beautiful nights that ever
etherealised the human mind. The woods were not breathed on, all was
still; the half moon rode high in heaven, frequently passed over by the
light blushing clouds with which the sky was chequered. The solemnity
of the scene was such as is not to be described.

I had talked some time ago with a sceptic, and been bothered with his
subtilties; how did they now all fly before the sublime soarings of my
spirit at this moment! Does this airy transport tend to nothing, and
must this mind with such an ardent curiosity to explore the heavens,
and such a celestial gratitude for the refinement it feels in itself,
perish with the body? Could I have made the sceptic take my feelings as
the best argument I could offer, he had been soon converted.

A sceptic should by analogy be of a sordid mind, but this man was
intelligent.

Having passed the river, we soon began to ascend through a thick wood
to the castle of Zagala, crowning the very summit of a rock-gnarled
mount.

When we were half up the hill my donkey started at the appearance of
an animal half as big again as itself, which advanced with a majestic,
deliberate step, and on going close up to it I found it was a beautiful
red stag that very politely came and kissed my hand--beautiful, elegant
creature.

On arriving at the gate of the old mouldering castle we thundered
for entrance, but for some time all was still. At length we thought
we heard the steps of some one dimly sounding through the echoes of
the castle, and ere long a hoarse voice demanded, “Who’s there?” “An
English officer with his servant and guide.” “What do you want?”
“Shelter for the night.” The steps were then heard to retire, and all
was still. Soon after, they were again heard approaching, and the
voice again asked, “How many are you?” “Three.” At last the grating
gate was slowly opened, and we beheld a snug village within, and at the
end of the street a fine-looking hall door with lamps, etc.

They took us to this house, and going upstairs the steward of the
estate of Zagala, belonging to the Marquis of Portachio, received
me with great cordiality and politeness. I was comforted to find a
most capital house with curtains, etc., the picture of cleanliness
and convenience, but how much more delighted when his most beautiful
wife entered the room, with long black mantilla, brilliant rolling
eyes, Roman nose, sweet mouth, jet black hair in short graceful curls
upon her neck, tall, polite, retired, conversable. Could not take my
eyes off her during supper, and feared the administrator would cut
my throat. There was an old priest who disputed with me concerning
Popery. Adventures romantic at first they told, as they had just killed
a large wolf, whose skin was brought in to show us. They then took me
into a nice little ante-room with a clean-looking bed, where I slept
delightfully.

Surely no man can live more happily than my host. This is his castle.
He is alike fearless of the wolves or thieves, for his peasants form an
ample garrison and he has plenty of arms. He lives in modest luxury, a
beautiful wife and fine children, what would he more? The man himself
was a fine black animated Spaniard.

_October 27._--Rise, and when dawn began, the view of the mountains was
grand, the rocky peaks tossing their wild forms above the foggy clouds.

Start for Villa del Rey and soon arrive, as the beast provided for me
was a good little animal. Go on to Campo Mayor and arrive at Elvas at
four o’clock.

Find the General, and soon discover that I have left Squire’s map at
Villa del Rey. Borrow twenty dollars from Colonel Ross to enable me to
purchase the little horse that brought me from Villa del Rey, and pay
forty-three dollars for the same.

Army entering Spain ordered to wear red cockades.

_October 28._--Bernardo starts at seven o’clock for Villa del Rey to
retrieve Squire’s map.

Write my report upon the Aliseda road, which I take to the General when
he has dined. Confess my sins to Squire, who laughs and receives the
mortifying news with good-natured philosophy.

_October 29._--Breakfast with the General, who starts with his suite
for Badajoz at seven. I arrive at Estremoz at eleven and General Paget
in the afternoon. I begin to fret about Bernardo.

_October 30._--Sunday. Breakfast at the General’s. No Bernardo. Write
the General a copy of last report, and after dinner, to my great
satisfaction, Bernardo is announced, for the fellow has become
extremely useful to me, and I depend on his fidelity. On journeys,
also, as I ride before and he behind, he entertains me exceedingly with
the drollery of his anecdotes and remarks, which are extremely acute.
He has withal a very good judgment, is unobtrusive, and can bear a rub.
Thus, though I allow him to talk and laugh, he is not sulky when told
to hold his tongue. Then his cookery and providonata is so good and
his honesty undoubted, he is a perfect interpreter, and up to their
manners. I was glad of his return.

_October 31._--To march to-morrow to Arronches; only hear of it when I
go to dinner. Get a pair of velvet overalls.

_November 1._--On arriving at Arronches, seven leagues from Estremoz,
find Major Gilmore, who gives me soup. Sleep in the justice house.
Little Kickery[20] comes on well. Buy a blanket, of, I think, a rogue.

_November 2._--Start for Albuquerque and overtake the 95th Regiment,
having first passed the Spanish boundary and taken out the Portuguese
cockade. On arriving at Albuquerque we find the deaf Corregidor
disputing with the General’s staff in a great rage; they receive me
with smiles, to the astonishment of the others, and insist on my being
quartered there. At least fifty officers come in about quarters.
They make no hand of the deaf Corregidor, but I explain the matter to
the lady, and she soon arranges it, for she is, in fact, a very good
Corregidor. Find the 20th Regiment here, and Colonel Ross quartered at
the house of my friend the Governor.

_November 3._--Colonel Ross comes to induce the old Corregidor to swear
in the paymaster. The wife achieves it, otherwise the old man would
have first inspected the regimental accounts!!

_N.B._--The man who ran off with his mules before has never returned.
I am badly off here now, for the great room that I had before is
occupied, and I am in the family.

_November 4._--Start in the morning with the 20th Regiment for Aliseda.
Ready at three. No mule. Colonel Ross starts. The Corregidor in a fury.
I start at four, leave the column in the dark, and take a doubtful
road. Hear a dog bark, and ferret out a peasant, who rights us; but
soon after we were again _presque au désespoir_, when a dear dog not
far off began to bark. We made for the noise, holloaing, and at length
a peasant rights us. It now begins to rain like the devil. Lose my way
again in a great wood, but retrieve it, and arrive at Aliseda, wet and
tired, at eleven o’clock. Regiment arrives at two, after a wet, painful
march.

_November 5._--Fine fair day, and after breakfast we leave for Brozas.

_November 6._--Start again at daylight in excessive rain, and arrive
at Alcantara at nine, perfectly wet. Quartered on my old friend the
Alcalde (Mayor), who receives me with the greatest _bon cœur_. The
General is quartered at the Benedictine convent, the richest order in
Spain, and the Prior, who is chaplain to Charles IV., undertook to
prepare dinner for the General, his baggage not having arrived. So one
was rather disposed to expect something sumptuous, and at half-past
four go up to the convent to dinner; dismayed to see a little tabletto
with one glass and a pint of wine. For dinner there was a soup made
of bread, water, beans, and salt in a flat plate, and a light leg and
shoulder of goat--execrable; silver plates, and a few grapes after
dinner.

Coming home we hear the Fandango playing and singing. Go to the door,
which is immediately shut. Complain to the Alcalde. “Do you wish to
see it?” said he quickly. “Yes.” “Vamos.” And away we went, and were
now highly received among the dancing peasants. I think it exceedingly
pretty, the girls seem so glorified, dizened out in all their finest
costume, and preserving such a gravity of modest dignity, that awes
the boors into distance and respect. They, on the contrary, with their
hats on, and in all their working dirt, dance with the fair, but never
touch them, both snapping their fingers all the time, and raising
their heads alternately with a graceful motion. When it was over we
retired to the Alcalde’s house, and entered into conversation, in
the midst of which he was called out to quell a disturbance in the
street. I asked what it was. “Nothing,” they said; but from the looks
of the women, who wished to detain me in the house, I suspected some
English were concerned, so I went out, and Bernardo followed me, and,
directed by the noise to a neighbouring house, we found two English
officers--Tilford and Falls--in a small room, bayed by about fifty
Spaniards with swords and fixed bayonets. I was going to inquire very
quietly what was the matter, and prevent mischief as skilfully as I
could, when that fool Bernardo, like a horse taking fright on the brink
of a precipice, darted on one of the peasants, dragging him away, and
calling him all the devils in hell, and cuffing him with all his might.

This immediately, as I foresaw, raised the fury of this disorderly
patrole to ungovernable bounds. They heeded neither corporal nor
Alcalde. They entirely threw off all authority, and seemed prepared,
with drawn daggers and swords and fixed bayonets, to take the most
plenary revenge. I seized Bernardo, stamped and bawled to him to be
quiet, but still the fool with his damned tongue and violent gestures
inflamed them so much, that, losing all distinction, having seized
him, they hemmed us in, and drove us backward into the room.

Seeing Bernardo pinioned, with a parcel of swords clashing about and
twenty bayonets ready, I expected fully every instant to see him
fall with fifty stabs, and pushed forward to the Spaniards, saying,
“Prighonera, prighonera,” meaning that they should take him prisoner
and not kill him. And perhaps this hint saved him, for they repeated,
“Yes, yes, prisoners; all of you prisoners.” Just then Bernardo broke
loose, and rushed to us within the room.

Immediately, with loud shouts and execrations, the mob from behind,
pushing the mob in front, came tumultuously and blackly towards us,
their bayonets thrusting open the door.

I entreated Falls and Tilford to be perfectly quiet and to use no
gestures nor loud words, and told Bernardo, with an angry frown, he
would be answerable for our lives. He seemed to have found his senses,
and to see the madness of his conduct. I then went quietly up to the
first rank (we were unarmed) and asked, “What do you want? To murder
your friends? Are we not your friends? What do you want?”

Immediately reason seemed to strike one of them, and he pulled off his
hat and said, “Yes, sir, we are friends, and we only want you to stay
here until the Governor settles the dispute.”

This was breath and blue sky, and I employed the interval in
conciliating them as much as possible, and, going close among them,
told them we were friends come to help them, that we had the same
cause, etc., and how silly it was to make ill blood owing to some
foolish mistake.

Still the storm clamoured from without, and through the windows I
perceived the street full of furious faces and glistening arms.

At length, however, the calm which I had obtained near me gradually
pervaded the others, and we entered into quiet conversation. Still,
however, they were bitter against Bernardo, and Tilford wished for the
Grenadiers of the 20th, if he could get them.

In the beginning of the fray our excellent little Alcalde (Mayor) had
been very active and bold, and pushed the fellows out of the room with
many a crack; but when Bernardo put them in such a fury, he was fairly
jostled to the outside, and could not get to us again until the calm
reached him from within.

He then settled the matter by taking Tilford, against whom the offence
was, into his own house. Bernardo made very handsome apologies, which
were accepted with good heart, and I went home very thankful that the
thing had ended as it did, and gave Mr. Bernardo very cogent hints
respecting the gallant fire he had so perniciously displayed.

The cause of the foolish affair was the spite of the beastly master of
the house because Tilford had come to join Falls in his billet, and he
had lyingly persuaded the patrole that he had insulted his wife.

_November 7._--I find that last night when Bernardo had followed me
the dangerous fellow had concealed the Alcalde’s long toledo under his
cloak, and made a thrust at one man, but the sword luckily only passed
through his coat.

The General after breakfast complains to the assembled authorities of
the town that the men are not received with sufficient friendship, and
that it may have a bad effect on the minds of the soldiers. The 20th
Regiment marches to Zarza, and Colonel Beckwith with the 95th marches
in.

[Illustration: _Bridge of Alcantara._]

The Benedictine church is extremely fine inside; the bare stone in
Gothic arches extremely grand. We view the bridge. Nothing can exceed
it. Its venerable air, as well as the inscription over the triumphal
arch, declare its structure of antiquity. It was built by the Emperor
Trajan, and is about 150 feet high, stretching from mountain to
mountain. The stones are immense, and of nearly equal size, with all
the roundness of time’s rubbing. Standing on the bed of the river and
catching the wild mountains through the enormous arches, it appears
like the Bridge of Sin and Death striding over chaos. The piers seem
to have been exceedingly well clamped, and there is a triumphal arch
in the centre of the bridge. I should think it as fine and perfect a
Roman relique as any that exists, and being in this country it involves
a number of inferences very interesting to the antiquary and historian.
I wish some of them could see it. There is a striking grandeur of
rude yet elegant simplicity in this structure which must always have
rendered it most imposing; but that very venerable air that the whole
has acquired, from each great stone being mouldered by time, until
there are wide joints between them, and the whole inexpressible shade
cast over it by a thousand years, give it an impression on the mind
(while the light clouds dance over the top of the arch) that is not to
be described.

                                        ALCANTARA, _November 5, 1808_.

  MY EVER DEAREST DAD--The advanced division of the Army under
  General Paget is now moving onwards by the shortest route towards
  Burgos from the Alemtejo. The roads along the frontier into the
  north of Spain by Alcantara, Ciudad Rodrigo, etc., are so bad that
  all the artillery on the south side or left bank of the Tagus is
  moving on by the high road to Madrid. The rest will go from Lisbon
  to Almeida, and so on.

  There has been a very irksome interval between the knowledge of our
  destined entry into Spain and the commencement of the march.

  The rainy season appears to have commenced, but I devoutly hope
  that its effects will not be great before the arrival of this
  division at Ciudad Rodrigo, from which place I believe the roads
  are not liable to be broken up by bad weather.

  If we get in time upon the theatre of war, the British Army has
  every reason to be sanguine. I believe there is no man in the
  Army who is not confident in Sir John Moore. He has under him as
  generals as fine ardent fellows as ever breathed, and I believe his
  particular attached friends. Then the troops are the best quality
  of British troops, which is as much praise as can be given. So if
  Buonaparte himself with 50,000 Frenchmen of his best bands will
  please to oppose himself to the British corps of the Allied Army,
  we can wish no more. I shall take care that you get a line from me
  as often as is possible.

  I rambled a good deal about this part of the country before the
  division moved, and had some curious adventures. I have been
  fortunate enough to get an invaluable servant, who is an excellent
  cook, interpreter, and travelling companion, of tried fidelity and
  diligence, and more entertaining and conversable on the road than
  Sancho was with Don Quixote in the same relations and in the same
  country. I have completed my stud for forty guineas. Two chargers
  and a baggage pony make my establishment, and in these I have been
  so fortunate that I would spurn sixty guineas for them, and was
  offered twenty-five for one that cost me fifteen the other day.
  However, by the end of the campaign I expect I shall have taken out
  of them a little of their worth.

  It is the greatest comfort to me to be with such a man as General
  Paget. I consider myself as a part of his suite, and shall be very
  proud if I gain the esteem of such a noble man.

  This morning before we set off from Brozas it was not light, and
  a man was smoking a little paper cigar in the hall. The General
  said he should like one of all things, so I asked the man if he had
  one, and one ready made was produced. There was some embarrassment
  about which end was to be lighted, and which to be taken into the
  mouth, so the man seized it very readily to show him the way. I
  endeavoured to redeem it before it was, as I should have thought,
  rendered unfit for service by being in the man’s mouth, saying
  with impatience, “He’s going to put it in his mouth.” “No, now let
  him alone; never mind,” said the General. “He knows nothing about
  that sort of thing, you know, and I’d rather do that than offend a
  fellow.”

  It was said in such a natural, quiet, unaffected way as to be quite
  delightful.

  Do let me hear often. I received a letter from dearest Mamsey,
  which gave me great delight. That Mr. Leckie is a very clever, but
  rather wild gentleman, who treated me very hospitably at Syracuse.
  I liked him very much. My friend Lefebure, to my great delight,
  is in Spain, most creditably employed as a missionary on affairs
  of very particular importance. The higher his employment is, the
  more I am sure his energetic mind will do him credit. I have had
  a very long communicative letter from him. I find he has applied
  to Lord Chatham for me, among a few others, to assist him in his
  occupation. I shall send this to headquarters by one of General
  Paget’s staff, who happens to be going, and hope that it will tell
  you very soon that I am well and happy.--With greatest love, ever,
  dearest Dad,

                                                              CHARLES.

_November 8._--Start at nine o’clock for Zarza, and arrive about two.

My host is a Spanish gentleman, very civil, and the lady apologises for
giving me a tin wash-hand basin, as all the silver ones are buried in
the woods on account of the French.

Wait three hours for dinner, and at eight o’clock in comes cold meat.

_November 9._--Get up at half-past four to start for Perales.

Shall be glad when we get to Ciudad Rodrigo and emerge from this
miserable part of Spain.

We pass remarkable ridges of mountains and Moorish castles, also
through great woods and watery tracts, but no towns, houses, or human
beings. Perales six leagues from Zarza.

_November 10._--Rise at four; very dark. Straw makes a good torch.
The guide of the 20th Regiment takes them the wrong road. Error soon
discovered. Violent rain.

General starts without a guide. I return for one, and by threats get
an old postillion. The road by the Puerte desalto de Perales goes
marvellously over the very summit of an exceeding high mountain,
excessively steep, and much injured by great rain. Looking back, while
climbing, I find the view most extensive and well wooded, half obscured
by a heavy cloud, whose watery skirts, as they lift, reveal more and
more of the landscape; then looking forward, I see a convent resting in
a bunch of rare trees on the bosom of the mountain.

Here was formed a vast abrupt vale, in which better than ever before I
could observe the system of waters as they sever the mountains. Many
little runs joining, form a larger one, many of these again join, and
amass a larger course, which forms a ravine; these ravines, falling
into the same bottom, wear a torrent, these torrents brooks, and
brooks rivers, and rivers a great river. All this lay with the most
interesting development before the eye; but soon, ascending higher, I
reached the clouds, and could see nothing but a circle of two yards
round me, the bleak, rocky, wretched road, with a black hill on one
side, and a precipice on the other, both lost in the impenetrable
clouds, and what one could see of them covered with the stumps of
heath, which, having been burnt, were quite black, and this, added to
the excessive cold, made me feel as if I were travelling on the bare
outside of the world, bordered by the chaotic beginning of things.

Soon after, without descending much, one enters a vast oak wood,
which continues even to Penaparda, a miserable village. Wait with
the postillion at the Alcalde’s house. The General arrives an hour
afterwards. Proceed to Gainaldo, a noble city compared to Penaparda.
Get good billets, and a happy family by a kitchen fire make me a
welcome guest. Go to bed betimes.

_November 11._--Gainaldo; halt to-day. This place is two leagues from
Penaparda, six from Perales. The happy family now sitting at dinner
before me by a good fire. Three fine brats have a little table and a
little pot of porridge apiece. There is besides a beautiful omelet. The
man and his wife and mother at another table.

The right wing of the 20th Regiment marches into the town. Ride my
pony, _restivissimo_! Sentence him to an immediate hard gallop, and
further to carry his master to Ciudad Rodrigo to-morrow.

_November 12._--Breakfast at five; start at seven, I on my pony, which
starts very docilely to-day. The ground about this place is open and
cultivated. Slight hills and enclosures. Part of the ride put me in
mind of that part of the walk to Ollerton where there is a sandy hollow
and a steep bit of the road. Fine morning, but the huge mountains
threaten rain, which attacks us a short league from Ciudad Rodrigo,
with sufficient spirit to wet us through completely. On our arrival we
meet some officers of the 50th and 28th, and Colonel Ronch conducts the
General to his quarters.

I get to a priest’s house, who makes a good palaver; but on seeing my
little dungeon-room I sink under the weight of my afflictions. So after
taking a glass of Malaga I sally forth, and get an excellent billet
with a watchmaker. I intend to tell the priest that I am very fond of
him, but detest his apartments.

Sir John Moore left this morning, without baggage, for Salamanca.

_November 13._--Read papers, and see a great many old acquaintances,
and on returning to the house find Engineers’ horses at my
door--Fletcher, Burgoyne, and Mulcaster. We call on General Paget, who
asks us all to dinner.

Ciudad Rodrigo, a walled handsome town, standing on the river Agueda,
which runs beneath.

_November 15._--Go on miserable beasts, with Stewart, to Almeida,
within six leagues of this place, and arrive at dark, getting horrid
dirty billets.

_November 16._--In the morning I go with Wilmot round the hexagonal
works of Almeida, and also to Fort Conception. The angles of the flank
and the ravelin of one front blown up by the French.

Return to Ciudad Rodrigo and desired to report on the place.

_November 17._--Get up at six and start on “Blacky” to examine. Try to
ford the river, and fail in several attempts. At last he and I part
company; he runs home on one side, and I on the other. Walk the rest,
and write my report.

Ordered to set out to-morrow for Salamanca.

_November 18._--Start at eight, and _en route_ get a volunteer guide
for Cuba de Sancho, who runs amazingly fast and long. On arrival get
comfortably lodged, and start at dawn for Salamanca, which we reach by
five o’clock, being in all eleven leagues.

Here meet Mr. Fletcher, Mulcaster, and Foster, who tell us that the
French had pushed on cavalry to Valladolid, and also that an order
has been given to the troops at Salamanca to prepare to march at the
shortest notice.

_November 20, Sunday._--Breakfast with General Paget and write out
report upon last roads.

Salamanca merits particular notice and attention. The church
magnificent, and the door of the cathedral the richest, most superb
thing I ever saw.

_November 29._--Anxiety prevails about the Allies, and I receive orders
late in the day to accompany Colonel Offeney on an excursion.

_November 30._--We start at six, and after passing Tormerellas meet a
sickly-looking man on horseback, whom we stop. He appears a good deal
frightened, and confesses to have conducted thirty dragoons to Pedroso.
He also delivers up certain papers--a requisition for 50,000 rations
of bread and 10,000 of forage; a paper from Besseares to the Spanish
people; and another, a bulletin from the grand army, announcing the
total defeat of Castanos, which, added to that of Blake and La Romano,
left nothing of a Spanish army but a small corps in the rear of the
enemy under Palafax. Send this fellow with his papers to headquarters.

Start again, and having learned that the enemy had abandoned Pedroso,
proceed thither, and find they had left the town two hours before our
arrival. It was thought they had merely withdrawn into a wood a mile
beyond, into which it was not deemed prudent to penetrate.

It appeared they had come for information, asking after us; and hearing
that we had 24,000 in Salamanca, they said, “It was nothing; they had
40,000, and would soon settle us.”

_December 1._--Enter the wood with some precaution, and strike off to
the left, crossing the stagnant Guareña to some houses, and are induced
to believe that the French have gone back to Fresno.

Strike to the right to Villa Fuente, a short league distant. Then
return to Pitiegua, and sleep at the house of the excellent curé,
having made a hideous dinner upon nothing.

_December 2._--Start for Mollorido, a mill on the road to Valladolid,
and the next day receive intelligence that 10,000 infantry and 2000
cavalry have marched towards Segovia.

Go again to Tarazona, and meet on the edge of the wood the servant
of the Bishop of Coimbra on his way home from Bourdeaux. The Bishop
was one of the Portuguese grandees sent as hostages to France, and the
servant had been to visit him. He told us that he had both seen and
spoken to Napoleon at Burgos, and that he was now at Aranda on his
way to Madrid, to which the whole attention of the French seemed now
turned, in consequence of the defeat or rout of Castanos.

We send this man with a dragoon to headquarters, and proceed to
Mollorido, where we meet some people who advise us of a Don living at
Tarazona, a village half a league to the left. Go there, and find Don
Jose Mental, who had fled from Rosseda, and here he was in his own
farmhouse. We endeavoured to make him a sort of master intelligencer.
He promised much, but is actually no great shakes. Leaving him, we
return by the sedgy banks of the wild poolly Guareña. I rode ahead
with the guide, and whenever we came to a pool he gave a shuddering
look thereon, and looking at me and shaking his head, said it was a
terrible place, and whoever went in never came out again. This was his
impression, as he could not swim, and had probably never been immersed
in his life; to me it was no more than a deep pool.

_December 4, Sunday._--General Alton calls, and we ride with him to
Bahel Fuenta _via_ Villa Ruella.

Set out on return journey, not knowing the road. The guide says he
is sure that the wrong road is the right one. We take the wrong, and
wander a long, long time in a heavy impenetrable fog, not seeing
three feet before us. At length we shoot into a flock of sheep, and
I, thinking there must be a shepherd, begin to whistle as hard as I
can; and soon, to my great joy, I behold three upright forms advancing
towards me, and make one of them put us on the right road for Pitiegua.
We had gone more than our distance, and were still five miles off.

_December 6._--Take a walk with the curate. He asks me about my birth,
parentage, and education, and finding I had a mother, he says, “Ah,
how often does she say to herself, ‘Oh, if he should be dead, my dear
child!’” This throws me into the blue devils.

_December 7._--Yesterday General Alton intercepted the imperial mail
from Burgos to Madrid. It was carried by a Spanish courier, and guarded
by two French officers and a French courier. The party was attacked by
about twenty peasants a few leagues from Burgos. One French officer and
the French courier were killed. The other Frenchman made his escape,
and the Spanish courier set off full speed for the English outposts.
The mail had many letters for Napoleon and his dukes and nobles.

To-day we set out for Tarazona, but on meeting some people from
Cantalapiedra, they tell us such a parcel of stuff that we determine to
go there.

We reach Cantalapiedra, five leagues off, and ask for news. A priest,
coming up, asks, “Do they seek for news here?” “Yes.” “Oh,” he says,
“the Emperor of Russia has sent his ambassador to Buonaparte to Madrid,
to say that unless he desists from his projects against Spain, the
Muscovite will declare against him.”

The Marquis Goraze is here in retirement. He is the intendente of
Burgos, and made his escape. The people point to an equipage just
arriving. ’Tis the Marchioness, drawn in a dung-cart, her daughters and
women preceding her on donkeys, and the Marquis himself bringing up the
rear.

After a most beautiful sunbright day and clear night there advances
suddenly from the north (between Pedroso and Pitiegua) an overwhelming
cloud resting on the earth. I kept before it some time, and could see
far before me (though it was night), but behind me not an inch, till at
last, meeting a man and talking with him a moment, it got ahead, and
I found myself in the thickest pudding of a night, and was obliged to
grope my way to Pitiegua.

_December 8._--Stay indoors and determine on what to be done.

_December 9–11._--Ride north, reconnoitre, make maps and plans.

Frost and excessive cold. Get a letter from Burgoyne,[21] dated
Salamanca, about my coat. He tells me that General Hope is with them
at Alba, and that the French have attacked Madrid in force, and are
reported to be repulsed with loss. Also that Napoleon has declared in
Paris--“I am now going at the head of 200,000 men to place a prince of
my own family on the throne of Spain, after which I shall proceed to
plant the Imperial eagles on the walls of Lisbon.”

Napoleon has been at Aranda de Duero some time.

_December 14._--Start for headquarters, and find that General Stewart
has surprised a valuable convoy of cotton in some town on the Douro,
taking thirty-seven prisoners, fine-looking fellows.

Colonel Murray tells me I shall find General Paget at Toro, and that
Captain Campbell is going thither. Arrive at Toro. General Paget not
there, and I get put up at his old quarters, and am informed that an
officer had murdered his landlord, and immediately after, there enters
a man with his head all bloody, and people screaming.

My first object was, and always is, with the Spaniards, to make them
cease their storm, and then I can redress or excuse their wrongs and
talk reason to them. For the passion of the Spaniard rises at the
sound of his own voice; he hears it reciting in an angry tone, and
his grievances mount to sudden fury and chide the tardy execution of
revenge. I take the man to General Beresford.

Noises and knockings at the door all night.

_December 15._--In the morning an old woman enters and gives a most
humorous description of the night’s disturbances.

Start with Captain Bayley for Tiedra, and there find General Paget, who
had arrived with the Reserve.

_December 17._--Hard frost, march to Villalpando. Met by the people
with enthusiastic exclamations.

The Generals have a confab, Sir D. Baird having joined.

_December 18._--Sunday. I am desired to plan the place.

_December 19._--Advance to Valderas and make a sketch. The cavalry pass
the bridge, and while on the bank, under-run by the river Cea, I was
almost blown away and benumbed by the violence of the wind.

Sir John dines with General Paget,--and Battle is the word!!


  [_The Journal here is omitted from 19th December to 24th December,
  the details of the campaign being more clearly related in the
  letter to his father, dated 24th December._]

                                      GRAJAL,[22] _December 24, 1808_.

  MY EVER DEAREST FATHER--I see so many foolish letters in the papers
  respecting the operations of armies and the faults or merits of
  Generals, that however naturally I might be inclined to chat with
  you and give you in narrative my ideas of our movements, made
  and required, I have, I believe, pretty generally refrained from
  entering into the subject more than in a general cursory manner.
  The enemy was in force at Saldana, and extended to other towns
  on the river Carrion, which runs from the Asturias through Leon
  into the Douro. It was determined to beat him here if he would
  wait, and accordingly by a mutual flank movement right and left, a
  junction having been formed with Sir David Baird, the whole army
  advanced towards the Carrion without losing time, taking up at the
  end of each day’s march such lines of cantonment as were the most
  secure that the situation of the towns and villages would admit of,
  keeping the cavalry in our front, then the Reserve, behind which,
  in three divisions, was the main army, having its flanks covered by
  the cavalry and flank corps of light troops.

  As in the advance our patroles fell in with those of the enemy,
  that superior valour of which the English are so conscious, and
  which is conspicuous in all descriptions of English warriors in
  their battles with the enemy, was very strongly and repeatedly
  displayed by our Hussars. Lord Paget having gained information
  that 700 of the enemy’s cavalry were at Sahagun, conceived it
  possible to take them by surprise. He therefore moved at midnight
  with the 10th and 15th. He divided these regiments at a suitable
  spot, and directing the 10th to move direct into Sahagun, so as to
  arrive at a stated time, he himself advanced by another road with
  the 15th, so as to turn the town and prevent the escape of the
  enemy.

  This plan, wise as it was, was frustrated by a neighbouring picquet
  of the enemy, having been attacked in the first instance, perhaps
  not wisely, for though some were taken, some (as might be expected
  at night) got off, and put the others on the _qui vive_, in
  consequence of which Lord Paget, advancing towards the place with
  the 15th in a column of division, found the enemy drawn up in line
  to receive him. He was thus with 400 opposed to 700, and according
  to all military rules, in a devil of a scrape. His Lordship,
  however, forming them into line, immediately led them on to the
  charge. The French are said at first to have stood like a wall and
  received the enemy with front give point. The impetuosity of the
  charge broke them, however, and much single-handed work ensuing,
  the final result was I don’t know how many killed, and 140 taken
  prisoners, besides which 2 lieutenant-colonels and 20 officers, one
  of the former being nephew to Josephine and aide-de-camp to King
  Joseph. The 10th came up too late to make the result of this affair
  more brilliant.

  Brigadier-General Stewart with the 18th, both before and since this
  affair, has been in several instances proportionately dashing and
  successful, and latterly 30 of the 18th attacked 100 of the enemy’s
  cavalry, killed 20, and took 6 alive.

  Our loss has been so trifling that I forgot to give it due place;
  it does not exceed 3 killed and 6 wounded in all--that is,
  seriously wounded, and these wounds have evinced (sufficiently, I
  hope) that the muff Hussar cap is no defence to the head, all the
  wounds being in consequence of their non-resistance, while our
  fellows hacked at the brass casques of the enemy in vain. As it was
  found that the chief body of the enemy under Marshal Soult, Duke of
  Dalmatia, was at Saldana, behind the Carrion, it was resolved to
  cross this river at the bridge of Carrion, five leagues distant,
  and to march upon Saldana with the left flank upon the river.
  Arrangements were accordingly made, in pursuance of which the
  Reserve under General Paget moved from this place at six o’clock
  yesterday evening, and was to take its place with respect to the
  rest of the army at a given time.

  The bridge of Carrion was to be forced at daylight, and a
  subsequent battle was fully expected and ardently desired by all
  ranks of the army, from Sir John Moore to the junior drummer--at
  least so I believe, and spite of the severe frost and night cold,
  with snow upon the ground, the spirits of the troops beat high;
  they enjoyed the night march, for they thought that at last they
  had caught this “Duke of Damnation,” whom they believed they had
  been running after from the neighbourhood of Lisbon. No men, they
  think, did ever go so fast, for they never saw anything of them,
  and almost despaired of coming up with them.

  The Reserve had moved about four miles when an officer met General
  Paget, and the division was marched back to Grajal, its former
  cantonment. This is all I know. I suppose the enemy was found to
  have bolted, and that it will not do for us to play with them in
  the middle of this continent.

  I therefore think that we shall get away as soon as we can. I think
  our Chief very wise, very brave, and very disinterested.--God bless
  you,

                                                              CHARLES.

_December 24, Sunday._--March to headquarters at Mayorga. Make a
sketch. A dragoon officer of the 10th begs to be let into our billet.
I cannot say no. His horse kicks Lutgins’, who rows me like blazes for
letting the dragoon in.

_December 27._--Ammunition waggons without number, and the tag, rag,
and bobtail of all the other divisions here fall to the convoy of
General Paget, a tremendous string, which makes the Reserve a baggage
guard. He executes this with patience, mastery, and accomplishment.
Guns being posted so as to rake the road.

We get no billets at Benavente, but Lutgins perseveres and gets an
excellent one, and Lord Paget and Colonel V. dine with us.

_December 28._--At ten o’clock Lutgins and I, sitting at breakfast,
hear a row in the streets. Ask what is the matter. “Turn out, sir,
directly! The French are in the town.” Oh what confusion, what
screaming and hooting and running and shoving and splashing and
dashing! My sword, spurs, and sash mislaid. Olla! Mount my horse and
ride to General Paget’s quarters. Find him just sallying forth. He at
once takes up his ground and gets his people under arms. False alarm.
Nobody knows the cause of the row, but the people of the house had fled
in despair. Unhappy people! Such are the miseries of war, that the
unoffending inhabitants, despoiled of the sanctity of their homes, find
every social tie jagged to the root, and then enters cold, desponding
indifference.

[Illustration]

Ride to the bridge, where preparations are making to destroy the same.
A very wet, cold night. I am sent with a message to Sir John Moore, and
ride back again through devilish rain and numbing wind. A party of the
enemy’s cavalry come to reconnoitre this operation, and exchange a few
shots with our pickets. All the people having withdrawn, the houses on
the other side the bridge and piles of timber are set on fire, and make
a most superb and interesting appearance in spite of the inclemency of
the night; the mounting blaze, bursting through the crackling roofs,
glares sunlike upon the opposite promontories and sub-current waters.
The teeth of the cursed saws refuse to do their duties, and hours are
spent in sawing the woodwork. I leave the business at 5 A.M.

_December 29._--Get to bed at six o’clock, wet, cold, and shivered to
death. The Reserve marches at eight. The bridge having blown up, the
enemy’s cavalry in one part swim, and in another ford the river, and
fall in with our pickets under General Stewart. The enemy 500, we 300.
A great deal of sharp fighting ensues, in which the enemy are worsted,
and seeing other bodies of cavalry coming on them, disperse and re-swim
the river with loss both in drowned and killed; but the ground was so
excessively heavy that our horses were blown, or their destruction
would have been complete.

I post myself on a hill with Captain Eveleigh’s troop of horse
artillery, and see a large body of cavalry advance towards us from a
neighbouring village. We make all dispositions to receive them well,
and they appear to design to take our cavalry in flank, edging off
towards the river. When they come within reach, and Captain E. is just
going to give them a round shot, we find them to be the 15th Dragoons!

Ride to the river, where the enemy attempt to form again on the other
side and fire at our videttes with their carbines; but the horse
artillery soon come up, and give them a few shrapnels, which disperse
them and send them up the hill. Result (of the whole engagement) about
twenty on each side killed and many badly wounded, about twenty French
prisoners of the Imperial Guards, their General, Colonel of the 2nd
Imperial Guards, and several officers.

I go on the bridge to see the effect of the explosion, which was
complete, then ride in again, and on towards Baneza. Overtake Captain
Griffiths, and converse much with him. Get pretty well put up with
Lutgins, but the Scotch make inroads upon us.

_December 30._--Cavalry arrive at Baneza. Start for Astorga (four
leagues). The town excessively full and stinking.

On the road talk with French officers. They say that the Spaniards
never fought at all, and that Buonaparte must have been looking at the
action yesterday from the heights on the other side the river.

I and Gos billet together and receive orders from headquarters. Major
F. Gos and Mul.[23] ordered one way, myself and Foster another.

This night tramp about the town to Q.M.G.’s and C.G.’s, etc., and am
franticated about guides.


ORDER FROM HEADQUARTERS

  Mr. Boothby will be pleased to proceed this night by
  Castracontrigo, and endeavour to reach Sanabria to-morrow evening,
  or early on the following morning.

  The object is to obtain correct information of any movements of
  the enemy from Benavente towards Orense, and to transmit the same
  by the most expeditious and secure route to Sir John Moore. Also
  to endeavour to induce the Spanish troops now at or near Sanabria
  to defend the passes as long as possible, and also to defend the
  fortress of Puebla and that of Monterey, and throw every impediment
  in the way of the advance of the enemy.

  A detachment of the 76th is at Monterey, which must be ordered to
  retire in time to Orense, where it will find another detachment and
  wait for further orders.

  Should there be any provisions at Monterey, and the Spaniards not
  be disposed to defend it, they must be, if possible, sent to any
  place on the road from Orense to Villafranca for the use of the
  column in that line of march, or else they must be consumed or
  otherwise destroyed to prevent their falling into the hands of the
  French.

  Headquarters will be at Villafranca till the 3rd, and afterwards
  towards Lugo.

  All intelligence must be also put to the column marching on Orense.

  Guides must be procured this night, and whenever wanted, and care
  taken to get intelligence whether the enemy have pushed any parties
  of cavalry towards Sanabria.

                                                   GEO. MURRAY, Q.M.G.

    HEADQUARTERS, ASTORGA,
        _December 30_.

_December 30._--Start at twelve o’clock.

_December 31, Saturday._--Very cold, leagues infernally long (5 = 7),
freezes very hard. Enter the mountains, my horse weak and broken down.
Arrive at Castracontrigo at six o’clock, seven long leagues.

Hunt up the Alcalde, and desire to be taken to the curé’s house. He
proposes our waiting till daylight.

Knock up the curé. Get fire and chocolate, and lie down at seven. Rise
at ten. Breakfast and start again at twelve. Our guides tell us we
shall not arrive at La Puebla till midnight.

This is all mountainous, and snow on the ground. Arrive at seven. Taken
to the Governor’s, who secretly places a sentry over us, as I had not
shown him my passport.

_January 1, 1809, Sunday._--Go out to speak to the Governor. He is now
very civil and frank, and tells me his intelligence, which I forward to
headquarters.

Get a better house belonging to a man, who tells us afterwards that he
has devoured at a sitting seventy-two eggs with their corresponding
bread and butter.

Colonel Chabot, charged with despatches, arrives.

_January 2._--Colonel Douglas, A.Q.M.G., and York and Hutchinson arrive
on their way to the army.

I despatch spies to Benavente.

_January 3._--Breakfast these people, and they start for Monterey. Go
three leagues on the road to Monbuey. Hear a lie, that the French are
at Castracontrigo.

Colonel Peacock comes in late, his party halting a league behind at
Otero.

_January 4._--A Spanish ensign endeavours to turn me out of my
quarters. I turn him out instead.

The inhabitants of Otero send to beg the Spanish soldiers may protect
them from the plunder of Colonel P.’s stragglers. I write to Colonel P.
to apprise him of this.

Mr. Murray, Com. G., arrives.

Commissaries, officers and soldiers, mules and devilment arrive all
day. Spies return.

_January 5._--Mr. Murray departs. Conceiving my commission to be
performed, I determine to start for the army to-morrow, and the
Governor writes to Marquis Romano and encloses my despatch to Sir John.
A Colonel of Spanish Artillery arrives with the cadets of Segovia in
charge. Poor little fellows! he is to take them to Corunna.

Don Alonzo Gonzalis tells the people that the English are going to
embark. They do not believe it. “What,” says he, “if the English have
not so many men as the French that follow them, would you have the
poor English stay and be destroyed?” “God forbid.” In the evening
I go to the Governor’s, and find round the brazier many Spanish
officers, principally Artillery. They talk of the destruction of the
bridge of Benavente, and speak theoretically of the line of least
resistance, etc., and I am asked if we do not carry with us some new
and extraordinary machine of destruction. I cannot make out what they
mean for a long time, so they send for the officer who had seen it.

He describes to the wondering circle a terrible machine, in which I
recognise the wheel car! Then have we, is it true, an invention for
carrying musketry to the distance of round shot? It was incredible.
Describe shrapnel shells. A little black fellow starts up and swears it
is no new invention. He is scouted and silenced. Take my leave.

_January 6, Friday._--Start for Villarviejo. Freezes hard, and the
ground is a sheet of ice. As the sun gets up, however, it thaws.

Pass numerous villages, and at three leagues encounter the first
Portilia, where the road goes over a high mountain, which is sometimes
impassable, and at this time bad and dangerous, not so much on account
of the quantity of snow, but because the road, undermined by the run of
waters in a thaw, becomes like the worst of rabbit warrens. And besides
this, the beaten path is so narrow that two mules meeting could not
keep it, and the one that leaves it flounders half buried in the snow.
Pass the other Portilia, not in so bad a state, at six leagues, and
reach Villarviejo, on the other side, at seven leagues. The general and
busy run of waters, as if to their appointed stations, calls forcibly
to my mind the description given by Milton of the assemblage of waters
at the great command to let dry land appear.

Scenery wild and very high.

Get put up at the curé’s house, which stinks excessively.

While cooking in the kitchen the whole family assembled round the fire,
pop on their knees as the curé rises, and say the Rosary aloud. “Santa
Maria! Madre de Dios!” is chimed out at the beginning of almost every
prayer.

Foster and I sleep in the same room with the curé, who blows like a
whale.

_January 7._--Start for Monterey. Excessive, heavy, and continued rain.
Overtake Colonel Peacock, in charge of £130,000, about four leagues
from Verin, which is at bottom, while Monterey is at top, almost
adjoining. Converse a good deal with him. Arrive at Verin completely
drenched.

These two days’ journeys, though each called seven leagues, are at the
lowest calculation eight.

About a league from Verin we are on a hill commanding a complete view
of it and the Valdi mountains, most beautiful and romantic, a fine
winding stream with green meads, and in the midst villages, woods,
groves, pastures, houses, gardens--the garden of Eden.

Find Mr. Murray at Verin. Consult. He has learned that the army was at
Lugo on the 5th, on which same day the English entered Orense. It is
therefore doubtful whether or no the English will be found there when
we arrive, the distance being ten leagues.

Get billets on an apothecary and go to bed. Much disturbed. Knocked up.
Sick and ill, and what rest soever my illness allowed was snatched away
by voracious and innumerable jumpers that bit me in all directions, and
where they did not bite they ran and hopped about my feverish body.

_January 8, Sunday._

    Because I dare not touch them for my life,
    Enticing grapes and honey were produced,
    And when my parched palate prompts my hand,
    My qualmish stomach sends its veto up.
    Baboon-faced John projects my certain cure,
    And gives me burnt bread sopped in scalding wine.
      I go to the Corregidor, and there
      Find Murray’s information is confirmed.
      I write to Colonel Peacock, and resolve
      To take the shortest road to Vigo Bay,
      Passing the Minho, by a ferry boat....
      Engage a mounted guide, and disfatigue
      Our weary bodies with two hours’ repose.
      Then, rising in the dark of night, we go
      And wonder how the practised guide can find
      The labyrinthine way, how he can tell
      The rocks and waters manifold (from snow
      Just thawed, and pushing for the lowest place)
      With such sure step to evitate at night.

At last a little village we descry, and thunder at a cottage door, but,
alas! the inhabitants of this cottage persist in a death-like silence
and a dread repose. Thus we remain, we know not where, in a very cold
night. At length the guide goes to another house by himself, and gets a
Galician with straw torches, which are very pretty and convenient.

The road is very dreary and unpleasant, and still three leagues to
Villadita. On arriving we get a woman to show us the way to the
Corregidor’s. It was three o’clock in the morning. Corregidor looks
out of his window and says with a loud voice, “Alguacil.”[24] The
old Alguacil leads to one and another, but we make him give us a
smart-looking house with windows to it. The mistress makes a rail,
but first the maid comes to the balcony and says, “Good morning,
gentlemen.” “A curse, you ugly witch,” says Bernardo, “is this a time
for the compliments of the morning?” When we get into this house it
is so mouldy, forlorn, and faded fine that, late as it is, we try
another, where we find a man in bed in every nook and corner. Get very
comfortably lodged, and find that we are only nine leagues from Vigo.

_January 9, Monday._--Get a most excellent breakfast, and,
notwithstanding my increasing malady, I venture to swallow a quart of
rich new milk, which I have not tasted for a long time.

The people come and bother and say, “Behold here are two dear
Englishmen that don’t know what good news we have for them. The
English, pursued by the French, have headed round at Betanzos and
driven the French before them sixteen leagues, and orders are come to
halt the troops at Orense that were going to Vigo.”

Although I did not think this account entitled to credit, coming from
the Spaniards, who give and take lies with greater assurance and
credulity than any other people, I thought that I might so far trust
it as to the intelligence which respected Orense, only two and a half
leagues distant; and they said the ferry across the Minho was not
always passable.

Not feeling safe in the hands of the precarious, headlong Spaniards,
I was rather anxious to get to a British column, as the circumstances
of the evacuation would not be much longer in spreading, and who could
tell the impression it might create.

  [A break occurs here in the Journal, but we know that Captain
  Boothby was now on his way to join Sir John Moore at Corunna _via_
  Vigo Bay, and the next tidings we hear from him occur in the
  letters to his father and brother after the battle of Corunna.]

       *       *       *       *       *

                             ON BOARD THE “BARFLEUR,” _Jan. 18, 1809_.

  MY EVER DEAREST FATHER--I am very anxious that you should have a
  line from me as soon as you will hear of the action of the 16th,
  the result of which, had it not deprived us of Sir John Moore,
  would have been everything that could be wished. He was killed by
  a cannon shot early in the action, which tore away his shoulder.
  He, however, lived till nine o’clock, being perfectly collected,
  sensible, and great to the last.

  The French in attacking us had at last complied with his most
  earnest wishes, and the battle had the effect which he foresaw,
  that of ensuring to us an unmolested and complete embarkation,
  which took place the night of the action and yesterday, the French
  contenting themselves with throwing a few shot among the shipping,
  which, operating on the fears of the masters, caused two or three
  transports to be lost. Otherwise it had the beneficial effect of
  getting the fleet under way most expeditiously.

  The action was very obstinate and warm, and lasted three hours.
  It is the first I have been in. Our loss in killed and wounded,
  particularly in officers, has been very severe, considering the
  number of troops exposed to fire, which was not more than half the
  army.

  I have no more time, as the bag is closed. God bless you,

                                                              CHARLES.

       *       *       *       *       *

                                                         AT SEA, 1809.

  MY DEAR B.--As my daily adventures just now would be rather
  disagreeable than interesting, I shall give you some account of
  the latter operations in Spain. As much as I can vouch for will be
  included in a relation of my own movements.

  When the army arrived at Astorga, Sir John Moore sent me to
  La Puebla, the capital of Sanabria, a mountainous district in
  the kingdom of Leon bordering on Portugal. The place is in the
  direct but worst road from Benavente to Orense, and as it had
  been determined that a column should take a better though longer
  road to Vigo, the object of my mission chiefly was to give
  immediate intelligence to Sir John Moore should the enemy show
  any disposition (by taking the shorter route from Benavente or
  elsewhere to Orense) to cut off the retreat of the column marching
  on Vigo.

  I was apprised of the time when our army would reach the
  different stages of its retreat, that I might judge where to
  rejoin it, having executed the service for which I was detached.
  Being satisfied on this head, I set out for Orense, making long
  journeys and sometimes travelling by night, the roads very bad and
  mountainous, rendered almost impassable by snow, but the scenery in
  many parts extremely beautiful and romantic, particularly in the
  neighbourhood of Monterey, an old mountain castle of, I believe, no
  military importance.

  From the intelligence I procured at Verin, immediately below it,
  I thought it better to avoid Orense and proceed to Vigo by the
  shortest road, crossing the river Minho (over which there is a
  bridge at Orense) by a ferry.

  The Minho at this place is a very rapid, turbid stream, carrying
  down with great velocity huge timbers and fragments torn by the
  waters from the mountain sides, or hurled from their tops by
  the fury of the winter blasts. The scenery is extremely rich
  and beautiful, having an inexpressible charm viewed from the
  stupendous heights, immediately impending the river, over which the
  road winds.

  The rugged steepness of the roads greatly lengthens the leagues,
  and the journeys, which one laid down from the experience of
  other parts of Spain, are obliged to be most teasingly divided in
  Galicia, particularly irksome to me on account of the uncertainty
  there was of the light in which our retreat would be viewed by
  the barbarous, arrogant, and ignorant, though not ungenerous,
  Spaniards, for few of the most enlightened would be capable of
  exculpating me in any cause of anger they might imagine against
  my country. Having performed a hundred miles of this journey, I
  unexpectedly fell in with the column that marched upon Vigo, and
  having communicated with General Alton, I was confirmed in my
  determination to proceed to Vigo, as all communication between
  him and the main body of the army had for some time ceased. As it
  appeared that the enemy had not got scent of this small column,
  and there was not the smallest probability of anything interesting
  taking place at the embarkation at Vigo, it became a very earnest
  object with me to reach Corunna, where it did not seem likely that
  affairs would have so insipid a complexion. I was therefore very
  well pleased to find that my friend Burgoyne had been sent to Vigo,
  and was to wait there until the embarkation was effected. At this
  time it was pretty confidently believed at headquarters that I had
  fallen into the hands of the enemy. This left me fully at liberty
  to proceed with the transports to Corunna, and Sir Samuel Hood,
  whom I had formerly known in the Baltic, was so kind as to offer
  me a passage in the _Barfleur_. It would be needless to describe
  the anxiety I felt respecting what might be the state of affairs
  at Corunna, where I was sensible that the army must have been some
  days. I supposed and hoped that some natural advantages would
  enable them to repel for so long a time the forces of France, but
  this might not be the case, and when we arrived that beautiful army
  might be no more. I got into the harbour in the _Minerva_ frigate
  on the evening of the 14th January. I went immediately to Sir John
  Moore, who received me most kindly, and notwithstanding the cruel
  anxiety he must have suffered, still supported that most engaging
  exterior so endearing to his friends and so prepossessing to
  strangers on whom he did not think proper to frown. I then sought
  out my friends and brother officers, and was greeted by them as
  one risen from the dead. I, too, felt inexpressible pleasure at
  getting again amongst my companions, and in feeling satisfied by
  the tranquillity at Corunna that things were not going on badly;
  to find my friend Lefebure, too, one of the party, and almost
  reestablished in health (for owing to excessive anxiety and fatigue
  in his attendance on the army of Blake, he was attacked and nearly
  carried to the grave by a fever) gave me the highest pleasure.

  He spread a mattress for me on the floor, and I slept as
  undisturbed as if the French had not passed the Pyrenees. I found
  that the whole effective forces of the British occupied a position
  about three miles from the walls of Corunna, which they had held
  since the 12th, and where they had hutted themselves. This position
  in a military point of view was very bad, for it was immediately
  opposed to one of greatly superior strength and elevation, which
  ground the British, being the defensive and smaller force, could
  not possess, their object being to contract the front presented to
  the enemy, who had the power to attack with unlimited numbers.
  They were therefore obliged to relinquish the commanding ground to
  the enemy, and to make up by their superior firmness and courage
  the great defects of their position.

  [Illustration]

  I know not if you understand plan drawing well enough to be
  assisted by a small hasty outline. The position of the British was
  bad because commanded by that of the enemy, but more especially
  because the right was liable to be turned--ⴲ. The hill itself,
  G, was very well against assault, because the side was very much
  intersected by steep banks and fences which, defended by our
  troops, could not be carried. The sketch I have given you is on the
  first impression of memory, and without the wish to be accurate,
  just to help you by a spilt-port-wine drawing to the sort of thing.
  The fortification of Corunna (xxx) was infinitely better than any
  entrenchment thrown up occasionally. It was much improved and
  strengthened by us, and though its being fatally commanded, without
  bomb proof, and many other faults and disadvantages, natural and
  incurred, would prevent its pretending to withstand a regular
  siege, yet as a barrier against assault for a certain time it
  was as good as could be; 1500 men might stand behind it and defy
  20,000. Nothing, therefore, could be better to cover the tail of an
  embarkation. The outer position was maintained that the fleet might
  not be molested, which it might have been, for instance, from St.
  Lucia, etc., that the first business of the embarkation might be
  neither looked into nor molested, and that the tranquillity of the
  town might be as long as possible preserved. And now, after this
  explanation, I shall continue my narrative.

  On the morning of the 15th, after breakfast, upon hearing some
  popping and that the enemy were making some demonstration, I
  borrowed Lefebure’s horse (having left both my own at Vigo) and
  rode to the English position.

  [Illustration: VIEW OF THE BRITISH AND FRENCH POSITIONS BEFORE
  CORUNNA, TAKEN FROM THE CITADEL.

    _a b_ British Line.
    _c d_ French Line.
    _e_ Magazine blown up 14th Jan. 1809.
    _f_ The village of Elvina.
    _g g_ Heights occupied by the French on the morning of 17th Jan.

  From an illustration in “Campaign of Lt.-Gen. Sir John Moore, K.B.”
  (1809).]

  The enemy were thrusting out their sharpshooters in all directions,
  a species of warfare or battle which they understand the best.
  Ours, however, were not backward, and gave them at least shot
  for shot. A distant cannonade was soon after commenced on both
  sides, the French firing at our groups of officers, and indeed
  at individuals, for I was honoured twice in this way, and my
  friend Lefebure’s horse had a narrow escape. They then made a
  parade of their force and several movements on their heights as if
  they meant something, but merely meaning, I fancy, to know if we
  still held our ground and with what force. Sir John Moore was out
  all day, and I followed in his suite over our whole position. He
  spoke to all officers as he went along, giving cautions, orders,
  and instructions, and looked wistfully at the enemy, apparently
  wishing with painful eagerness for a battle. Those who suppose
  these wishes were excited by any thought of his own fame, do not
  know Sir John Moore. He wrote to Sir S. Hood that he was anxious
  for an engagement, because he thought it would be the only means
  of securing an unmolested embarkation. The sharpshooting and
  cannonading continued throughout the day, but the number of killed
  and wounded on our side was inconsiderable, and probably was no
  greater on that of the enemy.

  On the morning of the 16th no skirmishing was heard from the
  outposts, and everything wore the face of an understanding on the
  part of the enemy that it was now their business to fight us. As
  long as we remained embattled upon our position we thought it
  was not their business, and feared they waited a more favourable
  opportunity, which must soon be afforded them. For Sir John Moore
  was determined, much as he wished to give them a check, not to
  wait any longer, for every day, while it added to their strength,
  brought with it the chance of a foul wind, which could not be too
  much dreaded if it lasted long enough to drive us into the town,
  and to give time to the French to establish batteries on the margin
  of the harbour for the destruction of the fleet.

  At one o’clock I was charged with the erection of a battery in
  the town and some other works on the ramparts. At about three
  o’clock we heard the firing begin, sharpshooting first, and then
  more general, and so much cannonade as convinced me it must be
  more serious than on the preceding day. Nothing I could say or
  do could prevail upon the soldiers to lay aside the air of the
  last extremity of fatigue which they had assumed. The shovel of
  earth approached the top of the bank as leisurely as the finger
  of a clock marches round the dial. I was therefore a good deal
  struck with admiration at their behaviour when at four o’clock an
  order came for them to join their regiments, which were marching
  to the field. They threw down their tools, jumped to their arms,
  hallooed and frisked as boys do when loosed from school, these
  poor, tattered, half-dead-looking devils. I was no less pleased to
  be left at liberty. An Engineer has no appropriate place or defined
  duty in an open battle, but he is always acceptable in the field
  if mounted, because he is generally a good sensible smart fellow
  that looks about him, and is trustworthy in the communication and
  explanations of orders.

  What we generally do, therefore, is to offer our several services
  as aides-de-camp to the several generals whom we may pitch upon or
  fall in with; and had I been mounted I should have gone straight to
  General Moore upon finding myself at liberty. But now a horse was
  my first object. The firing rather increased than slackened. I had
  never been present at a general action, and I wished painfully for
  a horse. Thinks I, “I’ll walk towards the scene of things, and I
  may meet a horse that has lost his master.” I went a little way and
  overtook a gunner with a saddle on his back.

  “What are you going to do with that?” said I.

  “I am taking it to St. Lucia,” said he.

  “What for?”

  “It is there that all the artillery horses are.”

  “Oh, ho!” A thought struck me, and I followed him. When I arrived
  I went straight to an officer of gunner drivers and explained to
  him my situation. The obliging fellow instantly ordered a horse
  to be saddled, to my great delight. I asked him, “What news from
  the field?” “General Baird is killed,” said he. I galloped off,
  and on my way up I overtook an artillery officer, who told me
  General Moore was dangerously wounded. I know not how it was, but
  I certainly galloped on with much less count of personal danger.
  The enemy had so placed two guns that the overshots invariably came
  whizzing down the road. As they passed one another I leaned on one
  side, and thought each destined for my head.

  The object of my search now was General Hope. I spied a clump of
  officers standing just behind the two lines engaged. From the
  situation they had taken up I thought this group most likely
  to be General Hope and his suite, so I hastened to it, and was
  not disappointed. He was looking very attentively at the two
  uninterrupted lines of fire though he said hardly anything, just
  sent an order in a quiet way now and then, and whenever the fire
  immediately before him seemed to slacken, he appeared instinctively
  to potter down to some place where hotter firing was. I was very
  glad to find myself so little disturbed by the whizzing of balls.
  The fire was very hot, and several men and horses of our group were
  struck, but I was thinking more of the novel sight before me, and
  glorying in the brave obstinacy of our people, who after so furious
  and long-continued and unabated an attack still refused to yield
  one inch to the column after column, relieving each other, that
  assailed them.

  When first indeed I reached General Hope’s party, I looked up at
  a clear part of the sky and silently begged of God that should a
  ball this day despatch me, He would forgive me my sins and take me
  to heaven, and after that I felt finely settled and elevated and
  indifferent to the event, while the cheering and volleying of our
  soldiers warmed my heart.

  As it was growing dusk a roar of musketry was volleyed on the left,
  followed by a roar of huzzas quite as loud. General Hope asked,
  “What’s that?” “The 59th coming up fresh, sir.”

  Colonel Graham came up and told him (the firing had almost ceased)
  that the enemy still possessed a village which was thought too near
  to us, and asked if it should be taken. General Hope desired that
  some companies of the 15th might take it, and soon after an officer
  came up and announced the capture. The firing had totally ceased.
  General Hope rode round the position, and then went to Corunna to
  make such arrangements as might be required. We got to the town
  about eight o’clock. I rode to Sir John Moore’s quarters, and going
  upstairs met Colonel Graham. He told me Sir John was lying on his
  mattress dying, that he heard him groan. Perhaps had I gone in,
  pressed his hand, and got a kind word from him, it would have been
  a source of pleasure to me now, but then I had no stomach for it.
  His shoulder and part of his left side were carried away by cannon
  shot. His great good spirit left his body at nine o’clock.

  General Hope’s letter[25] is as accurate and chastely true as it
  is simple, elevated, and beautiful; so great a degree of accuracy
  one would scarcely have expected, or thought compatible with the
  elegance of the language, the smoothness and entireness of the
  narrative. I advise you, if you have forgotten it, or did not know
  that it was something _more_ than a beautiful piece of writing, to
  read it again.

  Our obstinate battle, the coming in of our wounded, and the
  melancholy death of our chief had a very great effect upon the
  feelings of the people of Corunna. “This is for us! this is for us!
  Poor English, they bleed for us!”

  This sort of thing soon worked itself into a transport of generous
  enthusiasm, which was both beneficial and satisfactory to us.

  At about four o’clock on the morning of the 17th, when my
  companions and I got up, we found that nearly all the army was
  embarked. The wind was beginning to blow very hard, which made the
  embarkation very difficult, but, thank God, it blew the right way.
  On the 16th Sir John Moore had desired Fletcher, chief engineer,
  to name the number of men he thought necessary to occupy the
  town line, and to furnish a minute distribution of them upon the
  different works.

  This Fletcher did, and I went round with him and General Beresford
  (who was entrusted with the forlorn hope), that Fletcher might
  explain the distribution to him.

  Had the French not been so severely cowed and beaten as they were,
  and had come on to the attack at dawn, Beresford with 1500 men
  would have held that line while the embarkation was completing, and
  probably at night have withdrawn to the citadel, protecting that
  and his own embarkation with a small portion of his force. Then
  these last would have rushed to the boats in waiting, jumped in,
  and trusted to the gates and ditches to keep out the enemy until
  they had shoved off from the shore.

  But the impressive lesson the French had received rendered these
  operations unnecessary; and had not General Hope determined
  by doing things with the leisure he could command, to do them
  completely, the whole fleet might have been out at sea on the 17th
  before a Frenchman had ventured to show his nose.

  But it was resolved to embark the sick and wounded, to bury General
  Moore, and therefore to keep the 1500 men upon the line until
  evening.

  I went with Squire (a friend of mine in the Engineers) walking
  about the line, and at about seven o’clock we fell in with General
  Hope, and accompanied him all over the peninsula behind the walls
  of Corunna. He spoke with much satisfaction of the result of
  the battle. The troops, he said, had been withdrawn without the
  knowledge or suspicion of the enemy, deceived by their remaining
  fires.

  At about ten o’clock, I think, a few Frenchmen appeared
  slinking into the houses near the walls of Corunna, and the
  Spaniards, acting up to the magnitude of their hatred to every
  Frenchman, banged at each individual with a 32-pounder. They were
  sharpshooting this way all day long, though at first we could not
  conceive the cause of such a heavy cannonade.

  General Hope asked us to breakfast with him. “Squire, Boothby, will
  you come and have some chocolate?” were not unacceptable words.
  I have loved and admired this quiet, modest, superior being ever
  since I have known him.

  I believe the Spaniards were entirely aware of our determination to
  embark, yet their enthusiastic blaze in the good cause continued
  to increase. “They would die in the ruins of their walls.” It even
  pervaded the women, who all day long were seen with cartridges and
  wads upon their heads for the service of the batteries.

  They were jealous of our interference on the walls, which they
  wished to defend themselves, so that orders were given to our
  people not to appear on the walls, the portion destined for their
  defence being posted behind the ramparts, which were covered with
  all sorts and both sexes of Spaniards.

  Everybody commanded, everybody fired, everybody hallooed, everybody
  ordered silence, everybody forbade the fire, everybody thought
  musketry best, and everybody cannon. In short, you have no notion
  of the loud misrule which prevailed.

  However gratifying to us the display of such a spirit might be, or
  however beneficial to cover and complete our retreat, I believe a
  scrupulous care was had neither to promote nor increase it.

  It was a spontaneous burst, coming up itself, and impossible to be
  checked--so much unexpected by us that arrangements were made for
  the last party to spike all the guns in the place. And while we
  could not but admire the honesty of their zeal, we lamented that it
  might increase the calamities of the capture, but this, I am happy
  to find, has not been the case.

  It is said that the Governor candidly acknowledged that he should
  not attempt to stand a siege in so defective a place, but promised
  that as long as his walls gave protection to an Englishman or an
  English ship, he would never surrender.

  The ground now in possession of the French would enable them to
  cannonade the shipping which still remained in the harbour as
  thick as a wood, although for the most part filled with troops.

  The General had urged this point with Sir S. Hood, who urged it
  strongly to the Admiral, De Courcy. It is said that the transports
  did get the order to proceed to sea the moment they had received
  their complement of troops.

  If so, they, with a degree of idiotic disobedience not unusual nor
  incompatible with the character of masters of transports, took no
  heed.

  Certain it is that we in the town were rather longing to see a
  French battery open upon them, which we thought would make them get
  under way with a signal and beneficial expedition.

  But the fact was that we did not despise them half enough, nor know
  of what extreme cowardice and rascality they were capable.

  General Hope determined to be the last man on shore, and desired
  to have some Engineers remain with him, in which number I was. But
  at about two o’clock, when the General found that no preparations
  were making against our line, and that the enemy contented himself
  with preparing a battery on the top of the height overlooking the
  shipping, he expressed a wish that we all should embark, as at dusk
  the boats would be so much occupied that we might find it difficult
  to get off.

  We therefore proceeded together in search of a bit of victuals into
  the inner town, induced the people to unlock a high tavern, and sat
  down to a plate of cabbage soup.

  It was while thus employed that the French battery opened upon the
  shipping. It consisted of two field-pieces, which the fears of the
  French had situated in such a manner as to be as little hurtful as
  possible.

  [Illustration]

  Instead of going to the top of the hill, had they ventured down to
  an old stone fort (which we had abandoned) with their guns _à fleur
  d’eau_, they would probably have hulled some ship or other every
  shot, but their plunging fire could only touch one spot, and if
  that spot were not a ship, the ball went innocuously to the bottom.

  But the end which the caution of the enemy would not permit him to
  attain was effectually given to him by the cowardice of the masters
  of the transports. The wind was blowing very strong, and the first
  shot from the enemy was the signal for them to cut their cables.
  Thus, being all adrift at once, it is only wonderful that more did
  not strike upon the leeward rocks. Seven, I believe, struck, three
  were got off, and four, after being cleared, were burnt by us, and
  beautifully lighted the last of the embarkation. The transports
  that were got off had been previously abandoned by the masters.

  A midshipman of the _Barfleur_ told me that on going alongside of a
  transport on the rocks, the master threw his trunk into the boat,
  jumped in after it, and then, before a single soldier was out, he
  cried, “Shove off, or she’ll bilge.” He was knocked backwards by a
  sailor.

  We got on board a man-of-war’s boat, which put me on board the
  _Barfleur_ to get something I had left there. I was invited to go
  home in her, which I gladly accepted.

  The embarkation being completed, General Beresford came on board
  at two o’clock in the morning, and when the fleet was collected it
  sailed for Old England....

  After taking the trouble to write this very long letter, my dear
  B., shall you be able to get through it? I beg at any rate that
  you will not destroy it, as it completes my Spanish Journal, and I
  have no copy of this or any other narrative of that period of my
  proceedings.--Your most affectionate brother,

                                                              CHARLES.

[Illustration: JOHANNES MOORE

_Exercitûs Britannici dux præbio occisus_]


CORUNNA, 1808

ON THE BURIAL OF SIR JOHN MOORE

    Not a drum was heard, not a funeral note,
      As his corse to the rampart we hurried;
    Not a soldier discharged his farewell shot
      O’er the grave where our hero was buried.

    We buried him darkly at dead of the night,
      The sods with our bayonets turning,
    By the struggling moonbeams’ misty light
      And the lantern dimly burning.

    No useless coffin enclosed his breast,
      Nor in sheet nor in shroud we bound him,
    But he lay like a warrior taking his rest,
      With his martial cloak around him.

    Few and short were the prayers we said,
      And we spoke not a word of sorrow,
    But we steadfastly gazed on the face of the dead,
      And we bitterly thought of the morrow.

                                    PLYMOUTH DOCK, _January 28, 1809_.

  EVER DEAREST FATHER--You will not be very sorry to hear of my
  arrival in England in good health, but, on the other hand, I have
  not a penny that I know of, nor a shirt nearer than Lisbon.

  I shall come up to London without delay, find out where you are,
  and endeavour to spend some time amongst you, to lay down my head,
  and settle my affairs.

  The man I looked up to as a god, and held in the most cordial
  respect and affection, after devoting his life to the service of
  his country, is praised by some and blamed by others.

  I know the latter to be the ignorant, but consequently the most
  talkative, and your catchpenny Generals come forward and tell you
  how they could have done better. All this makes me sick, and cools
  my military ardour. For can the utmost blindness of self-love
  make me think I can ever equal the virtues or military worth of
  Moore! And yet, as the result of his laborious services, a doubt
  comes in every man’s mind whether he would now take upon himself
  that General’s reputation. When dying, though perfectly sensible,
  he had great difficulty at last to articulate. He said gently,
  however, that he had endeavoured to serve his country diligently
  and conscientiously, and he hoped it would be satisfied with what
  he had done. His latest anxiety seemed to be for victory. “_Are
  they beat? Are they beat?_” he repeatedly asked. He wished to send
  some message to General Hope, who had succeeded him in the command.
  “Hope, Hope,” he said at intervals, but could not articulate more.
  His last words were, “Tell my mother.” He could no longer speak,
  and expired. Was not this the death of a hero and a good man? God
  bless you.--Your CHARLES.

The loss of men and money in Spain, I think, are amply compensated for
by the acquisition of military fame, but the loss of Sir John Moore at
such a time admits of no consolation.

                                             BATH, _January 28, 1809_.

  DEAREST MOTHER--The press on the road, the waters, etc., have made
  me travel slower, but I set off for London to-morrow, whence you
  shall hear from me.

  We are three Engineers here together, one of whom is my friend
  Lefebure, the pleasantest and right-thinkingest man in the world.
  The people here show distinction to our rusty habits, particularly
  the fair sex, who advance to converse with us, to the astonishment
  of the well-dressed beaux.

  I hope soon to embrace you and my Louisa, and all of you. God bless
  you, dear people.

                                                              CHARLES.

On returning home after the glorious battle of Corunna, which
terminated Moore’s celebrated retreat and his life together, I
conceived a thorough dislike and hatred of the military service.
My patron was dead, and as a reward for services which I thought
inestimable, his memory was reviled by his ungrateful countrymen, and
tarnished by crafty, self-interested politicians, who, willing to
wound, but yet afraid to strike, took the most impalpable means of
offending his sacred memory.

[Illustration: MAJOR BOOTHBY, 51st Regiment.

Afterwards Sir William Boothby, Bart.

_Father of Captain Charles Boothby, R.E._]

All this increased the disgust which the sight of military operations
in a devoted country had excited in my mind.

Bilious with these thoughts, I took the sweet medicine of family
endearments.

I did not expect a speedy summons to the wars, for the only theatre
which seemed to offer us a part in the drama was just closed, and I
therefore promised myself some months of sweet repose and enjoyment, as
a change rendered most delightful by those fatigues and dangers which
entitled me to welcome it without blushing.

The pictures which had been given me of my family’s distress between
the beginning of those horrid accounts from Spain, and the hearing
from me after the battle of Corunna made me shudder at the thought of
renewing such frightful anxiety; for while delighting in my father’s
affection for his children, I was always frightened at it. The violent
expression of grief or the admission of immensurate apprehension in
a female are less impressive because more consonant to her softer
character; but when the safety of his children was concerned, my
father lost this distinction. The masculine firmness and well-tempered
equality of his mind no longer served him, and he, my mother, and my
sister, equally giving way to their fears for me, vainly looked to each
other for support. And what a task for my brother ... to be obliged to
laugh at their fears while smothering his own!

Early in the month of March the whole village circle dined at my
father’s house--Milnes, Lumley, Cleavers, etc.; happiness prevailed,
and I was glad. After dinner my brother, opening the post-bag, drew out
a large Government letter for me. My father’s eyes followed it across
the table with infinite disquiet,[26] my mother’s with dismay, and
Louisa paled a little. Under such eyes it was necessary to command my
own countenance.

I told my father calmly that it was an order for foreign service.

Nothing could represent such an order to them in a flattering point
of view. All their fears, all their anxieties were to be renewed, and
perhaps in the end not to be so happily relieved. I therefore made no
comments, but professed that the future now opened to me was flattering
to my prospects, and I further added that I considered active
service in Europe as a safeguard from the more distant and unhealthy
colonies.

[Illustration:

                                                         _John Hoppner._

RAFELA, WIFE OF SIR WILLIAM BOOTHBY, BART.

_Mother of Captain Charles Boothby, R.E._]

But in fact I was but ill satisfied with the summons, for the Austrian
war was but vaguely rumoured, and nothing but the _éclat_ and spunk of
some dashing and prompt expedition could make going abroad agreeable to
me. My own regrets, however, I was once again obliged to smother, and
my own tastes to kick downstairs that I might communicate some degree
of consistency and firmness to my aching family, and in this task my
brother was my second self.

The next day the whole party met again at the Lumleys’. It will appear
strange when I say that we were in better spirits than I wished, for
in spite of all I could say, they would not abandon the hope that some
event or other would put off the expedition.

As the post time drew near, my father grew grave, and I could see he
dreaded a final summons; and even as he dreaded, a large Government
letter, like the one before, was put into my hand. I dare not look at
my father. My mother, to be out of the way, ran upstairs.

When I had glanced over it, with what alacrity did I put into my
father’s hand what I knew would quiet his old heart and illumine his
benignant features. It was a simple counter order.

My mother and sister were not long before dancing with joy. It was an
harmonious uproar, very delightful to see, and I joined in it with all
my heart; to rejoice when they were rejoicing was too natural to my
heart to be restrained.

The next day my brother and myself went to spend a night at Welbeck.
On returning, the little party met us at the end of the village; they
walked slow, and were sorrowful.

The counter order was annulled, and the order for foreign service in
force.

For all that the world holds I would not retrace the bitterness of
separation.

My brother drove me to Newark, but I was glad to get rid of him, glad
when I had escaped my whole kindred, and was left at liberty to weep
without adding to their tears.

To have the business of leave-taking over cheered my spirits. I once
more felt free, and turned my thoughts upon my companions, those dear
companions with whom for years I had been traversing the seas and the
lands of Europe.

The passage to Lisbon was boisterous and disagreeable. We set sail on
the 17th March 1809, sprang a leak, were run aboard of in the night,
and expected to go down, and, in short, were forced to acknowledge that
a transport is full of horror.

We landed at Lisbon on the 2nd April, and found it generally expected
that Sir John Craddock would re-embark his army in a very few days.
The force under his command was said to amount to 17,000, and Marshal
Beresford with his Portuguese was called 25,000.

On the other hand, Soult had taken possession of Oporto with 13,000,
or, according to some, 17,000. Victor was menacing the Alemtejo with
40,000, and another movable corps of 10,000 had shown itself in the
neighbourhood of Ciudad Rodrigo.

Taking this rumoured state of things for granted, the re-embarkation of
the army (to a man that knew the nature of Iberian troops) seemed at
the first glance to be the most salutary measure that could be adopted.

                                             LISBON, _2nd April 1809_.

  MY DEAREST LOU--After a disagreeable voyage we arrived in the Tagus
  to-day at two o’clock. I do not intend this for a letter, but to
  take the first opportunity to tell you of my safe arrival.

  The French have taken Oporto, and we are supposed to be in force on
  the frontier.

  I would make a bet that I see you again before the expiration of
  the summer, for they dare not stay to come in contact with the
  French army, at least I think so.

  Nothing ever was more dead than this town. Oh, intolerably dead! No
  news here.

  I shall write longer by the next opportunity.

  With every best spring of the heart to you all,

                                                              CHARLES.


LISBON AND THE TAGUS

To one who enters the Tagus in a fine season there is something
inexpressibly captivating wherever he turns his eyes.

The magnificent rock or mountain, forming a gigantic portal to the
mouth of the river, is remarkable for the richness and variety of
colour, the grandeur of its size, and the wildness and taste of its
form.

From this feature, towards Lisbon, towns, orange groves, forts, and
palaces make every yard a picture, and as he approaches Lisbon the size
and style of the buildings advance; the great convents, dazzling white,
the activity of the great road, the grinning batteries, the fury of
the bar, the whirling of the current, the antique richness and eminent
shape of the Tower of Belim, and then the splendid burst of the city,
with her thronged quays and mounting palaces, will long prevent the
visitor from perceiving that the southern bank of the river has nothing
but loftiness to recommend it.

A traveller who has seen Messina from the Straits immediately knows
what is wanting to Lisbon, viewed from the Tagus.

Messina presents to his view all that can be beautiful in a superb
city, embosomed in all that is luxuriant and romantic in Nature.

At the foot of her fair hills she occupies, with a splendid and uniform
length of architecture, the margin of the sea, and is even better seen
through the light fretwork of masts and rigging, upon which sailors
of all nations and in all costumes busily twine their pliant forms,
adding to her inanimate beauties an interesting display of wealth and
commerce. The city is backed by hills, clothed with the most various
and luxuriant vegetation; some are crowned by forts and covered with
the brightest verdure, which Flora has enamelled with a lavish hand;
others hang umbrageous woods or many-coloured thickets over their wild
precipices. Upon the slopes of these hills, rising above each other in
theatric pride and architectural magnificence, grand slashes of palace,
convent, and church are nested in this beautiful bed of vegetable
profusion.

On the other hand, the Italian mountains, which may be called the
other bank of this azure river, display every imaginable charm to
snatch his eyes from a successful rival. “Beautiful! thrice beautiful!
incomparable Messina!” he exclaims. “Never did mine eyes behold, nor
my imagination form, a scene whose laughing charms surpassed, or even
equalled, thine.”

After this he looks upon Lisbon, towering upon her hills, a vast mass
of splendid structures. All is building; a house-seller’s shop, a
proud and pompous city stretching her sceptre over the red waves of
the hasty Tagus.

“Queen of the river with the golden waves,” says the courteous
traveller, “thy magnificent appearance excites my admiration. Permit me
to tread upon thy spacious marts, to enter thy palaces, to contemplate
and wonder at thy riches.”

He pushes for the shore, where disappointment awaits him, conducts
him over all parts of the city, serves him at dinner and prepares his
bed, reconducts him to his ship, and with him ascends the side, from
whence he will no longer delight in those beauties which he knows to be
deceptive.

The streets of Lisbon are generally good, and many of them fine; there
are no mean houses, and the greater part are handsome and uniform
in height and size. There are but few squares, and those are not
remarkable.

The quays are very fine, and some noble streets give upon them through
magnificent gates, particularly the Rua Aurta, or Street of the
Jewellers and Gold-workers. This street, quite straight, broad, and
handsomely built, begins at the principal square and issues through a
superb gate upon the quay, where a colossal equestrian statue gives it
an imposing termination.

But the shops of this street, though abounding in precious stones and
precious metal, are extremely mean and exactly alike, each containing
a little working equipage for the jeweller (at which he sits), and
the window displays a few clumsy glazed boxes, in which his precious
commodities are stored.

But as these shops, though mean, are the best, the buyer, being
pressed for the want of a commodity, is obliged to hunt for it. The
art of alluring money from the pocket of the passenger by a rich and
astonishing display of merchandise which he does not want, carried to
its height in London, seems in Lisbon to be totally unknown.

The private houses are, some of them, superbly built and richly
furnished, but scarcely any of them are commodious, and there is
nothing that can be called the environs of a capital.

A public garden, which, though sheltered and well kept, is small,
formal, and uninteresting; and one theatre, which, though formerly
supplied with the first Italian performers, would not be admired
at a provincial town in England. The equipages, although of course
diminished in number, absolutely surprise by their barbarity; a clumsy
little body, seated upon two huge leathern straps, enormous wheels,
and two noble mules, is the only thing to be seen in the shape of a
carriage; and from the melancholy relics of the Court, which I had
an opportunity of observing, I should doubt if it ever exhibited any
elegance or splendour.

The streets are not only (even in this burning weather) covered with
dry filth and squalid rags, but are lined with naked beggars and
disgusting cripples, who bare and often augment their deformities and
afflictions to arouse the dormant compassion of the rich.

But however laughable, it is really dreadful to walk in these streets
by night, for your foot slides about in soft things, and the whizzing
over head and the splash! splash! splash! that assails your ears make
you expect to be covered with refuse every moment, for the city is
not lighted at all--a circumstance which must have been formerly as
favourable to assassination as it is now to these nightly discharges.

If in the night it is to the last degree shocking to walk the streets
of Lisbon, it is not very agreeable during the day. The inequality of
the ground fatigues, the importunity of the beggars plagues, and the
filth of the streets offends you, while nothing remarkable to the right
or left diverts the peevishness of disgust or rewards the diligence of
curiosity. There are no hotels, nor inns, at least that can serve a
decent man.

I cannot leave Lisbon without noticing the Aqueduct, which is one of
the most stupendous and striking structures I ever beheld. It stretches
right across a deep valley, and without attempting to recollect its
dimensions or to speak accurately on the subject, the impression it has
left with me is that a First-rate, with royals and studding-sails set,
could pass through the principal arch without touching in any part. To
stand under this arch is almost stupefying, and the gigantic size of
the whole is well illustrated by some houses close to it.


RESIDENCE IN LISBON

_April 1809._--As my stay is remembered with indifference, it was not
marked by any high degree of satisfaction. Although I did not pretend
to form a deliberate opinion upon the affairs of the Peninsula, yet my
involuntary belief was that there would be no campaign.

I considered Sir John Moore’s retreat as a lesson likely to teach
caution to the British Government, and that they would not now venture
to stake the flower of her army on the fate of Spain against the wishes
of the nation, seeing that they could hardly answer for having done so
when the popular voice was loud in their favour. I thought that unless
the Spaniards themselves demonstrated that, in a military light, they
could balance their enemies, and were capable in the line of operations
of supporting their character as the main army, (which hitherto they
had plainly shown they could not do), any further assistance of British
troops would be firmly withheld.

The character of the Commander-in-Chief at that time confirmed me in
this opinion respecting the intentions of the Government. Because he
was not a man of known military talents, and it was likely enough that,
since the employment of General Whitelock, Sir Henry Dalrymple, and Sir
Harry Burrard, the favourite principle with our latter statesmen--“that
experience and reputation are not required in a fully instructed
General”--had been abandoned.

As I considered the kingdom of Portugal incapable of defence, except by
an army nearly equal to the offensive one, so I felt assured that when
the crisis of its fate arrived, a British army that sought to protect
it would “stand alone.”

I was led to believe that so soon as a very superior French army should
have leisure to move against Portugal, the British army would withdraw
and resign her to a fate which it could not control.

As these ideas, however erroneous and indiscreet, possessed my mind, in
spite of the warlike breathings of some that I conversed with, I could
not help considering my return to England as neither improbable nor
very remote, and instead, therefore, of bracing myself for the field, I
considered how I might render the time I passed at Lisbon as agreeable
as might be, in which pursuit I expected much assistance from some
letters of recommendation of which I was the bearer.

The letters on which I most depended were given me by a dear friend
and relation to an Englishman of the first rank and consequence in
Lisbon, who was invested with a delegated power, and supreme in his
particular department, and as this personage had his family at Lisbon,
an introduction to him had a very promising aspect.

My other letter, given me by a military acquaintance, was to an
Austrian Chevalier, also a person of consequence in Lisbon, residing
there with his family.

I could not in reason expect any great things from being the bearer of
a letter from a person with whom I had no particular intimacy, and of
which I was not the particular object, but only mentioned as being so
good as to take charge of the letter. I carried both on the same day.

The Austrian Chevalier was laid up with the gout. I left the letter and
a card.

The Englishman was also laid up with the gout. I left a letter for
himself and another for his lady, and with each a card, and having thus
arranged my lines I returned.

The next morning I received a note from the Austrian, contrived with
the most engaging and elegant politeness, the substance of which was,
that the Chevalier, sensible of the honour I had done him in bringing
him a letter from his friend and mine, trusted that I would dispense
with the ceremony of visiting, in favour of an invalid, and allow
him and his family to make an acquaintance from which they promised
themselves great pleasure, and that, when he had made my acquaintance,
he trusted he should be able to persuade me to give him the pleasure of
my company as much as I could, and to be a frequent inmate in his house.

It was not long before I made a second visit, and though the Chevalier
was still in bed, yet his daughters were so good as to receive me,
and that in so agreeable and sincere a manner, accompanied by such
an honest invitation from their father, that, very much pleased, I
was resolved it should not be my fault if I did not reap the full
advantages of such engaging conduct.

My story with respect to the Englishman is sooner told. The fate of
my letters to him will perhaps never be known, as he took not the
slightest notice of them or their carrier.

I was billeted in the house of an obliging Italian in the best street,
where the Commander-in-Chief, the Engineer mess, and everything that it
was desirable to be near to, were situated.

The mess was very bad, but the mates (as is almost always the case
in the corps to which I have the pleasure to belong) were very good
and entertaining. Burgos, Mortimer, and myself formed an indissoluble
trio, from which union I cannot express the pride and pleasure I have
derived for several years, and which I hope will last me through life.

Besides Burgos and Mortimer were several interesting characters which
I shall have occasion to notice as I go along, and among others was
little Archer, a friend of my boyhood; Captain Notpat, whom I scarcely
knew; and Captain Packman, convivial, festive, and good-natured to a
great degree, and several younger men. Our Chief, a man of indisputable
worth and bland manners, used also to honour us with his society.

I had not dined here many days before my little friend Archer took me
into his room and desired me to carry his defiance to Captain Notpat,
who had offended him beyond reparation.

Before I inquired into particulars I reviled my little friend for being
too warlike in this particular, as it was not the first nor the second
time that I had known him in similar circumstances. He defended himself
as well as he could, declared himself averse to duelling, and said he
should be very glad if the Captain would act so as to let the affair
end peaceably.

Upon this I declared myself very ready to act in quality of mediator if
the affair would admit of adjustment, and he would promise to be ruled
by my advice, but, at the same time, I declared my unvarying resolution
not to interfere if matters took a hostile turn.

Fully master then of my friend’s story, and armed with full powers to
treat, I knocked at the Captain’s door. He was not gone to bed, and
seemed preparing for a field-day.

He received me involuntarily as his adversary’s second, and
ceremoniously begged me to be seated.

My friend, I found, had stated the matter very fairly. The Captain had
been provoked at table rather by a teasing manner than any tangible
offence, and in revenge he had told my friend in broad terms that he
asserted an untruth, and that he might consider the accusation in any
light he pleased. Now, though the Captain is a man whose good qualities
do sink his imperfections into insignificance, yet had he some certain
simplicity or want of usage of the world unfitting his situation and
line of life, and this laid him a little open to quizzing, a game at
which my friend was not unskilled and much too apt; but fighting is not
the way to oppose quizzing, and it appeared to me that in justice and
fairness the Captain stood as the unprovoked assailant.

I represented with what force I could the melancholy consequences which
might ensue, and which he must be sensible would be laid at his door.
“You acknowledge,” said I, “that you gave an insult which you knew
could not be passed over, but which you were determined should stop the
provoking manner which my friend had for some time pointed at you? Is
this the only way in which you can oppose the flippancy of a boy? You
have given him an insult which obliges him to call you out, for unless
you do away the insult, I will never advise him not to do what I would
do myself; and have you turned over in your mind what may be the state
of things to-morrow evening? The best that can happen to you, according
to my opinion of your feelings, is to receive your adversary’s bullet;
and in that case have you reflected upon what grounds you think
yourself entitled to close the days of your parents in misery, and to
cast a lasting grief upon all your relations? Perhaps to-morrow evening
that youth against whom you have no enmity, with whom you have lived
in friendship, and whom you know to be worthy, will be stretched in
the ghastliness of a violent death, and weltering in the blood which
you have lightly shed. What will be your feelings on looking at such a
spectacle, the entire work of your own hands? It will not be his fault,
for if he submits to an insult he will be despised, and he had better
die; but by sending me to you he has opened the door to atonement, and
I expect the proof of your courage and magnanimity will be to make it
with candour, than which nothing is more noble or more suitable to the
character of a gentleman and a man of honour.”

The Captain did my address the honour to open his eyes, and saw that
it would be infinitely better to avoid an action. He wrote a candid
note, to which my friend returned a friendly answer.

I was thanked by both parties, and retired at 2 o’clock A.M., extremely
satisfied with myself to have gained so important and very difficult a
victory, for my dispute with the Captain was much longer than boots it
to set down.

       *       *       *       *       *

On the 4th April a fleet of transports, having on board six regiments
under the orders of General Hill, entered the Tagus, which force was
landed on the 5th, and incorporated with the army of Portugal, and on
the 6th the regiments of which it was composed marched by different
routes to join the respective brigades to which Sir J. Craddock’s
arrangements attached them.

The arrival of this force, and still more the rumoured appointment of
Sir A. Wellesley to the command in Portugal, turned the train of my
ideas; and soon after there followed the general cry of “Forward,”
and an intimation to us that we had better mount ourselves as fast as
possible.

Whether this bold determination were caused by the Austrian War
(which was no longer uncertain), and extended to the liberation of
Spain, or whether it were supposed that Soult had put himself into a
_cul-de-sac_, and the campaign had no further object than to destroy
him, I could not judge, because I was ignorant of the amount of the
French force actually in Spain, and also ignorant of the nature and
extent of the Spanish forces, with which in that country we must of
necessity co-operate.

It was, however, pretty certain that knocks were toward, and so it
behoved to provide myself with a thick doublet.

The rest of my residence in Lisbon, but a few days, was fully taken up
in buying horses and in making travelling arrangements. I was so lucky
as to get a wee mulette worth her weight in gold, and I called her
Sukey.

When the French entered Oporto by storm, the most important capture
they made was two British officers of engineers, Captain Goldfinch
and Lieutenant Thompson (a boy). Now Captain Goldfinch left at Lisbon
in charge of Captain Packman a fine red-brown stallion, a horse fiery
in his gait, gentle in his curvets, soft in his manage, swift in his
courses, and no mauler of leather. Thirty pounds was the price that had
been paid for him, at which sum he was offered to me, upon condition
that in case of the owner’s return it should be at his option to
reclaim him. I snatched at this offer, for the horse if sold outright
would have fetched half as much more. So far, so well, my charger and
my baggager were excellent. I now only wanted a second charger, and the
devil and Burgos advised me to buy an English mare that was worn to
the bones, but might be got into condition and be worth double what was
asked.

This was downright gambling, and I lost, as will appear in the sequel.

In the arrangements made by the chief engineer, Burgos and myself were
attached to the right column, consisting of a brigade of Guards under
General Harry Campbell, and a brigade of Infantry under General A.
Campbell, who in the absence of General Sherbrooke commanded the column.

Now General Sherbrooke and General H. Campbell were Nottinghamshire
friends, and therefore the Guards were likely to be forward; this,
added to the society of Burgos as a campaigning chum, was the very
arrangement for which I was disposed to intrigue. It had, however,
taken place in consequence of changes in the distribution of the army,
for Burgos had gone to another division under a former plan two days
ago, but was now to receive orders to join me as soon as possible.
Captain Notpat received sudden orders to go to Abrantes in pursuance
of an application from the Marshal Beresford. Captain Packman was to
move with the Chief, as well as my friend Mortimer, which, with a few
others, formed the party _du génie_ moving with headquarters.

Now my servant’s name was Louis, and he was an Italian. Louis, when I
picked him up, looked like a very decayed gentleman, his clothes having
the cut gentle, but the thread bare, the assortment incongruous, and
the articles ill-adapted to his shape. His Hessian boots came above his
knees, and were partly obscured by the eaves of his nankeen pantaloons,
that had been washed so often as would perhaps have made a Blackamoor
white. The warp and the woof of a blue spotted waistcoat were disunited
in the pockets and buttons, and his coat was made for a much larger
man. His hat was broken in that part of the brim which meets the hand
in salutations. His hair was sandy, lanky, long, and dishevelled. On
a dirty shirt was displayed a large brooch, the _gage d’amour_ of
some sentimental lass, for he had that sleek, effeminate, sodden, yet
bearded visage often thought handsome in pictures by means of regular
features, and known to be taking in reality among some of the opposite
sex. He was about thirty, had a sepulchral voice, and seemed to have
destroyed his constitution; yet was he a wit and an accomplished beau
in his own circle, and very probably styled “the charming Louis.”

He got me my milk and eggs of a morning very carefully, but I saw
that he was no Bernardo. When I consulted Louis on the line of march,
he informed me with much respect that he was unable to walk from
infirmity, and seeing me embarrassed about my mare’s sore back, he was
so active and obliging as to seek out one who was willing to make a
swap with me.

The beast offered in exchange was so rippish that I rejected him, and
endeavoured to patch the matter by hiring a beast for Louis the next
day, which was to be his care, and so all things were arranged for my
departure.

I had taken leave of the Austrian Chevalier, and performed all due and
accustomed rights, nor had I any regret at the thoughts of quitting
this celebrated city. I write letters home.

                                            LISBON, _Sunday, April 9_.

  MY DEAREST MAMSEY--We have a report here that Sir Arthur Wellesley
  is at hand. I have no expectation of any actual service against the
  French, for their force in this part of the world is so superior to
  ours (and will, I am convinced, continue so) that I have no doubt
  of our quitting the country as soon as they turn their attention to
  us.

  But if unexpectedly they should, mistaking our force, or too
  confident, advance towards us with an equal front, we shall drub
  them well.

  When I come to you again, which I guess will be before winter, I
  shall stay a long, long time. I have been obliged to lay out an
  immense sum on horses, which are immoderately dear.

  I have managed so, however, as that I shall not lose much, in case
  of being obliged to leave them behind. Ask Louisa if she would like
  the prettiest little mulette that ever was?

  You must not expect long letters, for I am very busy. And when
  one’s mind is called aside by fifty things at once, one cannot
  write a gossipy letter.

  I have sent B. twenty pages about Spain, and he will send it to
  you, if you desire. It will complete my journal.

  I wrote to General Stewart as soon as I got here, and have a very
  kind communicative letter from him in return. He is at no great
  distance, and I think we may meet ere long.

  General Sherbrooke, too, I have seen, who appears remarkably well.

  I expect to quit Lisbon in a day or two.

  Give my immense love to dear old Dad, etc., etc.----Yours, my
  dearest Mamsey,

                                                              CHARLES.


DEPARTURE FROM LISBON

_April 16, 1809._--About the middle of the month of April I left the
capital of Portugal. I was to bear-lead a party of artificers and some
mules laden with intrenching tools, and among other _désagréments_ Mr.
Louis came to me already thoroughly exhausted, and could not for love
nor money procure a beast.

“Then walk,” said I.

“Pardon me,” said he, “’tis wholly out of my power.”

“Then stay behind,” returned I, chafed at his little control over
difficulties.

“’Tis what I shall be reduced to,” answered he, with a fallen air, “if
my master cannot mount me.”

“My good fellow,” then said I in another tone, “bring me the villain
who offered me that misery in exchange for the mare.”

He immediately went off, and soon returned.

I was busied with other matters. I was predetermined on the exchange,
which was instantly concluded, and gave the order for the march.

My charger bounded under me with a most curveted agility, which, added
to a very martial neigh, would have made me as proud as Marshal Ney[27]
himself had it not been that the spectacle of my other nag much dashed
and diluted the spirit of my exultation. As for Louis he will certainly
go to the devil, for there was not somehow room enough on his back
whereon to strap my writing-case, for though it was made on purpose for
a man’s back, Louis had hung it round his neck, and resembled a Jack
that had stolen the locket of a giantess. This embarrassed and bruised
his arms, which were both employed to tug at the first bridle he had
ever laid hands upon, so that the jade, finding no encouragement to
violate her own inclination, would go head foremost into a doorway,
the upper part of which she found open, and being buffeted away by the
indignant housewife, she would swiftly wheel round, to the infinite
terror of Louis, and do the same thing by some other door on the
opposite side of the street.

Waiting as I was, to see what sort of a figure my valet cut as he went
along, and being confounded at the melancholy state of things--my
writing-case banging his breast, and the studied awkwardness which
he added to the villainy of the beast--I felt there was but one way
to save myself from committing some egregious extravagance. So after
assailing him with a deal of bad language and worse Italian, I galloped
away, and giving a charge respecting the Italian to my good tall
sergeant, resolved never to bestow on him another thought, and, very
happy to have escaped, I walked my horse along the banks of the Tagus,
giving full range to that cheery meditation inspired by youth and fine
weather.


COUNTRY BETWEEN LISBON, VILLA FRANCA, AND THE TAGUS

_April 1809._--None of the roads leading into the town of Lisbon
announce one’s approach to a great capital. They are universally paved,
the sides of the road overhung with vines and trees, with awkward
country houses, and now and then a tasteless palace.

The road from Cintra to Lisbon by Ociras is the best furnished, and
more diversified by the contrivances of wealth than any by which I have
approached that metropolis.

By the right bank of the Tagus to Santarem nothing is at all
interesting until Sacavem. The banks of the Tagus are very tame here
as to scenery, and at Sacavem, or a little above it, fenny islands of
considerable breadth divide the river into two main streams, which
begin about thirteen leagues from the mouth of the Tagus, and end about
seven leagues.

I have never had any opportunity of examining the localities of this
part of the river, but its banks are not formidable.

But to return to my ride on the road to Villa Franca, at which place I
arrived in the afternoon.

The Juez de Fuéro happened to be reviewing his lands bordering the
Tagus, and was up to his ears in vegetation. I sent to him, but in
vain. He walked from one field to another very composedly, discussing
the produce with some other land-learned man, and as my patience began
to exhaust, Colonel Perponcher arrived on a very fine black horse.

The Colonel is a Dutchman who had long served the British, and when
I first knew him commanded in the island of Gozo, in which were no
other troops than a battalion of Dillon’s, which (when we met at Villa
Franca) was still in the Mediterranean, whither he intended to proceed
to resume the command.

“Well,” said I, “how do you get on, Colonel, with your brigade?”

“Wat brigaade? Wo tol you I av a brigaade?”

“I was told that you were appointed to the command of two battalions of
Portuguese.”

“Well, if I was? You call two battalions brigaade? Pretty brigaade! Ha!
ha! ha!”

“Why, some of our Brigadiers have no more than two regiments under
them. What do you call a brigade?”

“Ah, that is de very thing, by----, with you. A General is nothing,
because you av General for all the two regiments. Why, in the Austrian
service! Ha! ha! Brigaade! You call that a brigaade?”

It was only now and then that the Colonel committed a little
agreeable foreignness in speaking English; and as I knew him to be a
gentlemanlike, well-informed man, and believed him to be an officer
of great merit, I was not discouraged by his crustiness, the cause of
which I determined to find out; and therefore letting the matter drop,
I told him that if, as I supposed, he wanted the Juez de Fuéro, he must
go to the river for him, as I had endeavoured to fish him out in vain.

“What,” said I, turning to his servant, “why don’t Sr. Juez come? Is he
a Frenchman?”

Here Colonel Perponcher interrupted me with some warmth, and advised me
to be more prudent. “These sort of things,” said he wisely, “won’t do
with them, for ---- sake take care; you don’t know what you may do.”

I could no longer forbear laughing at the subtlety of his ill-humour,
which vented itself in this manner under the appearance of _sagesse_,
for he had too much discrimination not to perceive that my question
was calculated to spur the judge to show by his alacrity in assisting
Englishmen that he was not a Frenchman, the very name of which was
plague, pestilence, and famine to a Portuguese. The Colonel, seeing
that I really could not help laughing, began to smile himself, and
proposed that we should lodge together, to which I readily assented.
The Juez, having returned up to the breech in wholesome soil, gave us
the billet we desired. On leaving him I observed that my charger was
dead lame.

The death of a first cousin would in numerous instances be less
distressing than the lameness of one’s best horse at the moment that
his services are indispensable. We were conducted to a large house
with fine stables, the groom of which knew perfectly well what ailed
my horse, recommended fomentation of hot wine mixed with hog’s lard,
honey, and cow dung, and assured me it would be of no consequence.

I eagerly believed what he said, because if I had not I should have
been unhappy all the evening, and if the fellow lied, to-morrow morning
would be time enough to grieve. “Sufficient for the day is the evil
thereof.” Our host was a wealthy Portuguese, and had some guests of his
own nation already in his house, an elderly man with his son, a youth
of sixteen, very tall, good-looking, and intelligent, also, what is
extremely rare for a Portuguese, speaking French very well.

The master of the house offered us some biscuit and wine, which we
declined. He then asked what we would take. “Some dinner,” we replied.
“Aye,” said he, “but that can’t be ready till night. Won’t you take
something first--a bit of water melon or some oranges?”

The idea of fooling away a lusty appetite upon marshmallows was equally
repugnant to the habits of us both, and so we determined to wait,
although I was perfectly up to the management of our host, which was
by pulling his own ten o’clock supper a little way back towards nine,
and giving our five o’clock dinner a most unfeeling stretch towards the
same point to make both ends meet and unite in one meal. As I had been
in this predicament some fifty or sixty times before, I summoned my
patience and a natural capability I have for fasting, while the Colonel
saw it grow dark with a mixture of surprise, hunger, and impatience.
Poor Louis, who really believed that it was impossible for him to walk
six tedious leagues, or twenty-four miles, arrived completely done, for
he had not only surpassed his imagined powers, but had been obliged to
bear his part in dragging and heaving that wretched animal that was to
have carried him. I found I had been taken in, and determined to make
the best of it, and with actual labour the beast was pushed into the
stable, where it fell to at the manger with a beastly voracity.

One cause I found of Colonel Perponcher’s chagrin was the absence of
snuff, and this I was fortunately able to supply, having a large box of
Prince’s Mixture in my pocket.

We sat together some time talking of the Mediterranean, and of his
brother, whom I had met at Gothenburg, and at last he discovered
the main cause of his vexation and return to Lisbon nearly as
follows:--“You must understand that in volunteering my services with
the Portuguese army, and in determining to meet the very numerous
and noisome vexations to which the situation exposed me (implicating
my character with the conduct of raw recruits of strange nations and
striving to reclaim and organise a mutinous rabble), it is natural
to suppose that however well I might wish the righteous cause in
which we are assisting these swarths, yet that I should look also for
some personal advantage as the attendant of success.” And it was, I
suppose, “just this personal advantage” which now seemed more than ever
doubtful as time went on.

_May 14, 1809._--I heard this morning that Sir Arthur Wellesley has had
an action with the enemy.

I was differently and very disagreeably employed, as I went up to
Lamego with a British brigade, which was to countenance Beresford and
his myrmidons. The enemy came before Lamego, intending, I suppose, to
sack and destroy, but finding troops there, they retired. The country
is exceedingly strong, and I hoped they would not defend it. It was not
my wish to see the Portuguese in action. Let who will take the credit
of serving with them, I will not. Accordingly I was very glad to find
that the enemy had no intention to dispute the country, either having
heard that Soult had been beat, or intending to reinforce him.

Having passed the Douro without halting at Lamego, we stopped at Peizo,
and marched the next morning to Amarante.

When about two leagues from our destination it began to rain heavily as
if to prepare us for the gloomy, wretched scene that awaited us.

We were thoroughly wet through (I having no baggage) when the beauteous
Amarante burst upon our view, the fine-looking houses promising a
comfortable rest. What was our aggravated disgust at finding that
everything was sacked, burnt, and murdered, not a single house but
was completely reduced to its shell wall. Here the venerable master
of a mansion lay stretched on his back amid the black ruins of his
peaceful habitation, and a ghastly wound disfigured his neck.... It was
a horrid spectacle!! But I will not go on with the picture, it exceeds
description, and swells one’s hatred to these ruthless and wanton
destroyers.

This place, garrisoned by Portuguese troops under Sylvesan, resisted
for two days the French under Loison, (the plague of Portugal), and so
this inhuman monster thus revenged himself.

                                            ABRANTES, _June 18, 1809_.

  MY LOUISA--I heard that there had been blows, and wrote to tell you
  I was out of harm’s way.

  Nothing can be finer than the passage of the Douro, which in his
  despatches Sir A. Wellesley makes too little of; in short, it is
  plain he cannot write, for he did the same at Vimiera. However, he
  is dashing and able, and if a fair game lies before him, he will
  not, I hope, be able to cover the fame of his victories by clumsy
  relations....

  Captain Goldfinch of the Engineers, with a fine little Scotch boy
  (a lieutenant), fell with Oporto into the hands of the French, and
  made their escape in the late bustle. The respect (they say) which
  all French who were at Corunna bear to the memory of Moore, and to
  the English in general, is quite gratifying.

  They recite a dispute between a French officer and several others,
  the former maintaining that the English were victorious, the
  others, not.

  Our advocate read General Hope’s letter,[28] asking at every
  sentence, “N’est-il pas vrai? N’est-il pas bien dit?” etc., etc.,
  and when he came to the simile of General Wolfe’s death he made a
  very elegant admiration of it.

  I was attached to the brigade of General Tilson, who is my
  friend, and it was with the Portuguese army. We went to Chaves,
  and penetrated into Galicia. I took the place of an officer who
  fell ill, otherwise I belong to the brigade of Guards under Harry
  Campbell, whom I like greatly.

  In addition to my mortification at being out of the way, the first
  notification I had of General Paget’s arrival was accompanied by
  the news of his having lost a limb, my sorrow for which wholly
  defeated any attempt to rejoice at our successes. People who did
  not know him talked a vast deal about the manner in which he bore
  his sufferings. I say nothing of it, because I know him to be
  perfect, and know upon what he leans.... It is a comfort to learn
  that the loss is not likely to affect his constitution, as he is
  said to recover wonderfully fast.

  Devil a bit of nobleness have I about me, my dear Lou. I cannot
  bear this infernal war, that has killed Moore and maimed Paget,
  disputing about a country that---- But I won’t talk politics. If
  Austria, though beaten and overrun, can entertain Buonaparte for a
  season, perhaps Wellesley may do something for the Spaniards.

  The French fight us very ill, whether from a want of hatred or
  courage. If what had happened to Soult had happened to an English
  general, he would have been disgraced for ever, for he was
  shamefully surprised.

  But England, although she has every right to expect worse generals
  than France, is much more rigid with them in articles of skill and
  judgment; for if she can by any means attribute a disaster to the
  error of a general, she is not only savage but sanguinary. And this
  makes very good generals and very brave men so vastly afraid of
  responsibility, that when they assume command they appear cowardly
  and indecisive....

  Don’t let there be a shade of melancholy in your letters; it
  disquiets me vastly. Why should you be melancholy? God is very good
  to us, and we must not pine if we are not always all together as if
  in heaven. Therefore write very comically about friends and home....

  Eternal blessings crown my darling Lou, and guardian angels hover
  over her.

                                                              CHARLES.

       *       *       *       *       *

                                                CORIA, _July 8, 1809_.

  It is quite a relief, dearest Lou, to be transferred from the
  filthy styes of the Portuguese to the clean houses of the
  Spaniards. And as I am shaking off the dust contracted in Portugal,
  so I am scraping my tongue of those odious inarticulate sounds
  which compose their language, and gargling vinegar that my throat
  may be capable of touching with the true Castilian burr the
  energetic language of Spain.

  Alas! I have lost one of my first comforts, a new blue, patent,
  silver-mounted, morocco writing-case; all my letter-paper, pens,
  ink, letters, secrets, verses, etc., etc.; also dear Lady N----’s
  series of useless boxes--all lost by the rascal Pedro, Bernardo’s
  opposite in everything. The devil take it, though I have lost it a
  week ago, I cannot recover my temper.

  Hitherto I pass my time very pleasantly. I have got a fine young
  engineer to take care of, whom I row, all the time that he does not
  sleep, about his vanity; not but that I acknowledge myself to be as
  vain as he, but that I defy him to have found it out, unless I had
  told him of it. He is coming into very fine order.

  Poor Harry Campbell has been some time unwell, but I hope he is now
  throwing it off.

  General Sherbrooke, to whose division I belong, makes it very
  pleasant to me. I dine with him mostly, and like him vastly. I
  think of him very highly as a general. He thinks of Sir John Moore
  just as I do.

  To-morrow we go to Plaçentia, which is much larger than this very
  pretty town.

  Here there is an old castle and walls inhabited by cranes, which
  interest me very much, perching on the house-tops and church
  steeples, and cowering over the town.

  That fellow there, I at first thought was standing upon the stalk
  of a weather-cock, but I found by a spy-glass that they were his
  own long legs, with his great feet happy upon the stone ball.

  The air seems fresher here than in Portugal. Sweet F. E. wrote
  me such a dear note in Mamsey’s letter. I wonder how she could
  contrive to make it so pleasant and yet so proper. For me, I could
  do no such thing. Were I to write to her warm, kind, affectionate
  words, my heart would dictate fluently enough, but I am sure they
  would not pass the school of decorum.

  The mistress would say, “You must scratch out there ‘dearest F.’
  Lop away this ‘love’ and that ‘love’”; and so word by word I
  should see my poor letter robbed of all its graces, looking like a
  tobacconist’s with “Humble servant to command” at the bottom.

  What if I should not fill this sheet! It is very big, and I have to
  give my letter to General Sherbrooke in a quarter of an hour, and
  you see I write very close.

  My poor chum has just lost a horse, which, though I put on outward
  signs of condolence, I am not sorry for. As to being bridled, he
  never could think of such a thing. He would always go when he liked
  it, and where also. He would look very stupid, to entice the unwary
  behind him; and then, with both feet and all his might, lunge out,
  as much as to say, “D---- thee, I have thee now.” In the same
  manner he would most innocently pretend to come and rub his head
  upon you in a dawdling, sleepy sort of way, and then get your leg
  or arm in his jaws and try as hard as he could to crack it. For
  these and many other pretty accomplishments

    His master loved him dearly,
    And mourns him now sincerely,
    While I say, “Poor thing” merely,
    But feel at heart quite cheerly.
    We’ll go as fast, or nearly,
    Without, as with him, clearly.

  Now to take my leave, and remain, as ever, your

                                                              CHARLES.

       *       *       *       *       *

                                           CASTEL BRANCO, _July 1809_.

  I received dear Mamsey’s letter, by which my mind was relieved
  respecting her anxiety.

  The moment I heard there was fighting I wrote, but feared you would
  not get my letter in time enough to be spared that cruel suspense.

  It will at least be some time before you need begin to think of
  being anxious again.

  The French, it is understood, are retiring very fast, and will
  probably not dispute anything south of the Ebro. A long march is
  before us ... we only know as far as Placentia. I miss my poor
  Bernardo very much, and would give anything to meet with him again,
  which I think I may do, if we go towards Madrid.

  This fine battle of the Danube has cheered us again, perhaps ere
  you receive this you will know how fallaciously; but I will hope
  that you are in possession of recent victories for which we are yet
  to Huzza![29]




APPENDIX


                                  BETWEEN ST. EUFEMIA AND MONTE LEONE,
                                            _July 6, 1806_.

  MY DEAREST FATHER--In the first place I give you joy of a most
  complete victory gained by a body of English troops over a French
  force very superior in number, another proof that the extraordinary
  bravery of our countrymen is not solely to be attributed to salt
  provisions and sea air. This army had been reviled as fugitive in
  consequence of the wise retreat of Sir J. Craig from Naples.

  General Regnier, the old calumniator of British troops, had
  threatened a speedy invasion of Sicily.

  It was generally believed that the Calabrians, a ferocious race,
  held the French in abhorrence, and Sir J. Stuart’s plan, as far as
  I have been able to make out, was to raise the country--arm it--and
  then give the people a lesson in the art of war by beating the
  French. It was presumed that the effect of this would be to render
  the country uninhabitable to the French, and finally to deliver the
  territory from the general scourge of continental tranquillity.

  Sir John left Messina on the night of the 30th of June, in
  pursuance of his object, which was then unknown.

  At about midnight of the 1st of July the transports were collected
  in the Bay of St. Eufemia. Orders were then given for the landing
  at two o’clock. It was not expected that there was any enemy
  at hand, but upon the Light Infantry running forward, a firing
  commenced, which continued in bush-fighting the greater part of
  the morning, the enemy consisting of about three hundred Poles,
  scattered about in a very thick brushwood, they retiring and the
  Light Infantry pursuing.... They ran at the enemy like lions, and
  the event of the day was--about twenty of the enemy wounded (some
  badly), two officers, and about one hundred prisoners.

  We had only one man wounded.

  The army then took a position, one flank upon the town of Nicastro,
  and the other below the village of Eufemia. Until the 2nd, the
  reports concerning the enemy were various.... On the 2nd the
  enemy was discovered on the heights above the plain of Maida. He
  exhibited lights at night, and it was reported that he intended
  battle. In the course of the next day some information was
  obtained, and the enemy then was supposed to consist of between two
  and three thousand men. On the night of the 3rd the order of march
  was given to commence at two o’clock.

  The enemy still continuing his lights, some time after daylight it
  was suspected that he had withdrawn. His position, however, was
  at right angles with the beach, and so far from it as to admit of
  operations on his left flank, which was weak from the nature of the
  ground. This the enemy could not avoid, from our being masters of
  the water, upon which was Sir Sidney Smith with a line-of-battle
  ship and three frigates. The British marched with their flanks
  in line and centre in column, the right flank on the sea, the
  left exposed, so that in the approach the corresponding flank
  of each force was exposed to the operations of the other. The
  Frenchman, seeing his left threatened, changed his position with
  admirable order, and formed on the Englishman’s left, on which the
  French cavalry charged. The 20th regiment, having just landed,
  immediately advanced in support of this flank to meet the cavalry
  with fixed bayonets, which forced them to retire, the Artillery
  playing upon their retreat. The French Light Infantry now charged
  ours, which advanced to meet it. The two regiments were point to
  point, when at this anxious moment the enemy to a man fled in the
  utmost confusion, we pursuing. The slaughter of this regiment was
  dreadful. Other regiments now charged and volleyed, as is usual
  in battles, and, as I hope will always be the case, the victory
  fell on us, the enemy flying with the utmost precipitation, and we
  having no cavalry, he escaped. The slaughter on the side of the
  French was immense and almost incredible when compared to ours. In
  killed, wounded, and taken, it has been estimated at 3000, while
  ours exactly amounts to so many hundreds. If I were a Frenchman I
  would tell you what I think of the British troops, but the modesty
  of an Englishman imposes silence when the merits of his countrymen
  are the subject. Fighting appears their delight, and they seek
  the enemy with the ardour of sportsmen; let him, however, drop
  his arms, and he is safe; let him be wounded, he is pitied and
  assisted--in short, upon my honour, I think the lion and the lamb
  are here most strikingly united.

  I could recite several interesting anecdotes, such as battles
  generally give rise to, but I am much hurried. We only lost one
  officer and forty men killed. The officer’s servant had one leg
  shattered and the other badly wounded, yet his own misery he did
  not think of. “But my poor master was killed,” said he. “I hope,
  however, the day was ours. Well, then, I die content.” “Here” (said
  a Highlander) “is this ---- brute that has been firing at me and
  wounded me in so many places.” “Water! water!” cried the wretch.
  The Highlander revenged himself immediately with his canteen!

  A general officer was among the prisoners, severely wounded, and
  the Commander-in-Chief was also severely wounded. The French force,
  from returns taken, is considered to have amounted to upwards of
  7,000; ours was 4,500, so that considering the vast superiority
  and other circumstances in favour of the enemy, the victory was
  as brilliant as one could wish.... An extraordinary coincidence
  with respect to the armies was observed. General Sir J. Stuart
  was opposed to General Regnier, a man of acknowledged military
  eminence, who had called Sir John _a man of no talents_. The two
  Light Infantries were immediately opposed, as were two regiments
  of Watteville in the different services. Our Highland Regiment was
  opposed to their 42nd (to cover embarkation), our 31st to theirs.

  After having advanced some miles after the enemy our army marched
  back to the position it had left in the morning. The action began
  at half-past eight and the firing ceased at 11 on the 4th of July.
  On the 5th the army marched to this place near the sea, and about a
  mile from the field of battle.

  I am now sitting on the ground sheltered by a round tent....
  I write this on my hat. Adieu, my dearest father.--Your ever
  affectionate and dutiful son,

                                                           C. BOOTHBY.

_July 6, 1806._

       *       *       *       *       *

                                         MONTE LEONE, _July 11, 1806_.

  MY EVER DEAREST MOTHER-- ... The day after I wrote you an account
  of the battle we advanced some miles beyond the field towards the
  Adriatic, just under the town of Maida. The enemy had retired
  to Catanzaro, and it was generally expected that we should seek
  another battle before he could reinforce himself. It was judged,
  however, that the coming up with him was precarious, and the
  advantage of the chance of beating him still more--not adequate to
  the inconvenience of harassing the victors this burning weather,
  which reasoning was probably strengthened by the risk of any
  junction having been formed between two parties of the enemy’s
  force. No prejudgment would have given victory to five thousand
  men against eight, supposed to be the best troops in the world,
  fully prepared for the enterprise against them, having all the
  local advantages and local knowledge, commanded by a General of the
  greatest reputation, and particularly for manœuvring skill.

  Our General went into the field under the idea that the force he
  was to attack was between two and three thousand men.

  The fatal error of the French General was that, obstinately blind
  to experience, he despised his enemy--an enemy which the battles of
  Egypt should have taught him to consider at least equal to himself.
  He had suffered prejudice to mislead him until his slaughtered and
  flying troops and the severe personal wound forced open his eyes;
  but he opened them too late. In defiance of the general principle
  to avoid an invading enemy until you have involved him in a country
  of which he is ignorant, and from your own knowledge are certain
  to destroy him, General Regnier descended from the advantages of
  his position to fight front to front in the plain.

  With the battle of the 21st of March before his eyes, he tells his
  troops that those very Egyptian regiments cannot stand the bayonet.
  The deluded Frenchmen charge with confidence, and, expecting to
  pursue hares, are met by lions.

  The same error which has been so fatal to so many Generals was
  fatal to Menon, and was deservedly still more fatal to Regnier; for
  Menon could not know us, and Regnier would not.

  But I stray from the point.

  After staying a day under Maida the troops marched to Monte Leone,
  and there the General missed his baggage, which did not turn up
  until yesterday, when the General’s cook gave a very good account
  of himself. The inhabitants of the country were to be deceived as
  to the intentions of the retrograde movement, and consequently what
  conversation could be gleaned from the General’s table tended to an
  advance to Catanzaro. The troops marched backwards at two in the
  morning, but the baggage, with a guard of thirty men, not being
  properly attended to, was not quite so alert, but marched about an
  hour later towards the enemy, whose outposts (taking this little
  force for our advanced guard) retired and gave intelligence of the
  approach of the English army, which, corresponding with the report
  of our intentions, the enemy left Catanzaro to thirty men commanded
  by a cook, and retreated with precipitation to the borders of the
  Adriatic. The quick cook, smelling the rat, squeezed himself into
  the General’s coat and personated the General, until, finding
  himself neither attacked by the French nor joined by the English,
  he could retire without disgrace and seek the true situation of his
  allies.

  The design of the march through Calabria was to seize the enemy’s
  garrisons and stores all the way to Reggio, which is just opposite
  Messina. This has already been done, as Reggio has been taken
  by a party from Messina, so that we now expect to embark from
  Pizzo, which lies just before this place. But _nothing you know is
  certain_.

  In taking possession of the stores we have seen innumerable papers.
  One letter from Regnier[30] says, “When I have been with the
  English I shall come to you. They are only 12,000. I shall very
  soon finish with them.” Somewhere else he says he will take good
  care that we shall not reach our shipping again. Indeed everything
  betrays a most ridiculous confidence, arising not only from the
  consciousness of great merit (which was just), but from a most
  unreasonable contempt of an enemy which had before shown itself
  superior. Every prisoner whom I have heard speak upon the subject
  acknowledges to have been deceived, and condemns the order to
  charge an unbroken regiment. The French soldiers are generally
  remarkably fine men.

  My dearest mother, I have not written you a very proper letter for
  a lady, but to make it a little more acceptable it assures you of
  my perfect health and spirits and constant love and affection to
  all of you. Adieu, my dearest mother.--Your most affectionate and
  devoted son,

                                                                 C. B.


1808

EXPEDITION TO SWEDEN

TWO LETTERS TO SIR BROOKE BOOTHBY, Bart., from CAPTAIN CHARLES
BOOTHBY[31]

_Quite private. Don’t speak of this._

                                                       _July 1, 1808._

  MY DEAR UNCLE--We are certainly bound for England. Sir John Moore
  was made prisoner at Stockholm, and escaped in disguise, having, I
  suppose, been previously provided with couriers’ passes, etc.

  I am now going on board the _Victory_ to ask Sir John if there will
  be any objection to your going in this ship, and as no objection
  can be made, you had better, if it suits you, put yourself afloat
  as soon as possible, as we shall sail to-morrow.

  If you think of any comforts for yourself on the voyage, procure
  them. We have no tea.

                             God bless you.

  You may as well make use of the boat that brought Jack, bringing
  him also with you.

                                                                 C. B.

    To Sir Brooke Boothby, Bart.,
        Seagerlind’s Hotel.

       *       *       *       *       *

                                                      _2nd July 1808._

  MY DEAR UNCLE--The information I sent you yesterday was from the
  Fountain head, and is indeed perfectly true.

  The General found himself, by his instructions, obliged to return
  to England, but the King wished him to wait for despatches from
  England. This the General declined, upon which he received a
  message in the night not to leave Stockholm without the King’s
  consent.

  Sir John sent a messenger to embark the army and horses
  immediately, and then remonstrated through the minister. No
  attention was paid, until a second remonstrance was made, when the
  prohibition was repeated.

  Sir John then made his escape in his travelling dress. The
  Secretary of Legation drove him beyond the first stage in his
  curricle, and a messenger was despatched by Mr. Thornton with
  orders to take him up on the road. This is incredible, but
  _certainly_ true.

  I went on board the _Victory_ yesterday. Sir J. M. was very kind,
  and went himself to the Admiral to get an order for your coming on
  board this ship (which I carried through its several stages), and
  she is prepared to receive you, and Mr. Christer will describe her
  accommodations. If you come you will be sorry to learn that I am
  not going straight to England, being ordered on board the _Superb_,
  at the request of Admiral Keats, to _reconnoitre_ the little Isle
  of Sproe in the Belt, after which I shall be sent to England by
  the first ship of war that goes. Pray, if I do not see you this
  evening (for I shall not go on board the _Admiral_ till to-morrow),
  communicate this to Edwinstowe. It is an excursion which I am
  delighted to make, because it is creditable, useful, and agreeable.
  I hope to see you here this evening. In the meantime believe me
  ever most affectionately yours,

                                                                 C. B.

  Your fellow passengers are very pleasant young men--quite young.

  Major Cockburn, the General’s secretary, arrived to-day. He
  reports that on Wednesday the King did not know of Sir John’s
  departure, which took place on Monday. When his Majesty does
  discover it, he will not unlikely take some very strong, furious
  measures. Therefore pray do not delay getting off.


1809

CORUNNA

Before reading the official despatches on the battle of Corunna it is
important to have some idea of the plan adopted by the enemy, and it is
with the greatest interest we read that,[32] “When Buonaparte received
intelligence that the British were moving to the Duero,” he said,
‘Moore is the only General now fit to contend with me; I shall advance
against him in person.’

“Orders were then sent to the Duke of Dalmatia to give way, if
attacked, and to decoy the British to Burgos, or as far eastward as
possible, and at the same time to push on a corps towards Leon, on
their left flank. And should they attempt to retreat, he was ordered
to impede this by every means in his power. The corps on the road to
Badajoz was stopt, and ordered to proceed towards Salamanca, while he
himself moved rapidly with all disposable force to Madrid, and the
Escurial, directly to Benaventa. Neither Buonaparte nor any of his
Generals had the least doubt of surrounding the British with between 60
and 70,000 men before they could reach Galicia.

“Sir John Moore, as appears both by his letters and his conduct,
saw clearly the whole of this plan; he had prepared for the danger,
calculated the time, and has acquired the glory of being _the first
General who has frustrated Buonaparte_.”


LETTER from Lieut.-Gen. SIR DAVID BAIRD to Lord Viscount CASTLEREAGH,
Secretary of State.

  _London Gazette Extraordinary_

                                   DOWNING STREET, _January 24, 1809_.

  The Honourable Captain Hope arrived late last night with a
  Despatch from Lieutenant-General Sir David Baird to Lord Viscount
  Castlereagh, one of His Majesty’s Principal Secretaries of State,
  of which the following is a copy:--

                                  HIS MAJESTY’S SHIP “VILLE DE PARIS,”
                                       AT SEA, _January 18, 1809_.

  MY LORD--By the much-lamented death of Lieutenant-General Sir John
  Moore, who fell in action with the Enemy on the 16th instant, it
  has become my duty to acquaint your Lordship that the French[33]
  army attacked the British[34] troops in the position they occupied
  in front of Corunna at about two o’clock in the afternoon of that
  day.

  A severe wound, which compelled me to quit the field a short
  time previous to the fall of Sir John Moore, obliges me to
  refer your Lordship for the particulars of the action, which
  was long and obstinately contested, to the enclosed report of
  Lieutenant-General Hope, who succeeded to the command of the
  army, and to whose ability and exertions in direction of the
  ardent zeal and unconquerable valour of His Majesty’s troops is
  to be attributed, under Providence, the success of the day, which
  terminated in the complete and entire repulse and defeat of the
  Enemy at every point of attack.

  The honourable Captain Gordon, my Aide-de-Camp, will have the
  honour of delivering this despatch, and will be able to give your
  Lordship any further information which may be required.--I have the
  honour to be, etc.,

                                                 D. BAIRD, Lieut.-Gen.

  Right Hon. Lord Viscount Castlereagh.

       *       *       *       *       *

  LETTER from Lieut.-Gen. HOPE to Lieut.-Gen. Sir DAVID BAIRD,
      containing the report after the battle of Corunna, 16th January
      1809.

                              HIS MAJESTY’S SHIP “AUDACIOUS,”
                                      OFF CORUNNA, _January 18, 1809_.

  SIR--In compliance with the desire contained in your communication
  of yesterday, I avail myself of the first moment I have been able
  to command to detail to you the occurrences of the action which
  took place in front of Corunna on the 16th instant.

  It will be in your recollection, that about one in the afternoon of
  that day the Enemy, who had in the morning received reinforcements,
  and who had placed some guns in front of the right and left of his
  line, was observed to be moving troops towards his left flank, and
  forming various columns of attack at that extremity of the strong
  and commanding position which on the morning of the 15th he had
  taken in our immediate front.

  This indication of his intention was immediately succeeded by the
  rapid and determined attack which he made upon your division, which
  occupied the right of our position. The events which occurred
  during that period of the action you are fully acquainted with. The
  first effort of the Enemy was met by the Commander of the Forces,
  and by yourself, at the head of the 42nd regiment and the brigade
  under Major-General Lord William Bentinck.

  The village on your right became an object of obstinate contest. I
  lament to say that soon after the severe wound which deprived the
  army of your services, Lieutenant-General Sir John Moore, who had
  just directed the most able disposition, fell by a cannon shot. The
  troops, though not unacquainted with the irreparable loss they had
  sustained, were not dismayed, but by the most determined bravery
  not only repelled every attempt of the Enemy to gain ground, but
  actually forced him to retire, although he had brought up fresh
  troops in support of those originally engaged.

  The Enemy, finding himself foiled in every attempt to force the
  right of the position, endeavoured by numbers to turn it. A
  judicious and well-timed movement which was made by Major-General
  Paget, with the reserve, which corps had moved out of its
  cantonments to support the right of the army, by a vigorous attack
  defeated this intention. The Major-General, having pushed forward
  the 95th (rifle corps) and 1st battalion 52nd regiments, drove
  the Enemy before him; and in his rapid and judicious advance,
  threatened the left of the Enemy’s position. This circumstance,
  with the position of Lieutenant-General Fraser’s division
  (calculated to give still further security to the right of the
  line), induced the enemy to relax his efforts in that quarter.

  They were, however, more forcibly directed towards the centre,
  where they were again successfully resisted by the brigade under
  Major-General Manningham, forming the left of your division, and
  a part of that under Major-General Leith, forming the right of
  the division under my orders. Upon the left, the Enemy at first
  contented himself with an attack upon our piquets, which, however,
  in general maintained their ground. Finding, however, his efforts
  unavailing on the right and centre, he seemed determined to render
  the attack upon the left more serious, and had succeeded in
  obtaining possession of the village through which the great road to
  Madrid passes, and which was situated in front of that part of the
  line.

  From this post, however, he was soon expelled, with considerable
  loss, by a gallant attack of some companies of the 2nd battalion
  14th regiment, under Lieutenant-Colonel Nicholls. Before five in
  the evening, we had not only successfully repelled every attack
  made upon the position, but had gained ground in almost all points,
  and occupied a more forward line than at the commencement of the
  action, whilst the Enemy confined his operations to a cannonade,
  and the fire of his light troops, with a view to draw off his
  other corps. At six the firing ceased. The different brigades were
  reassembled on the ground they occupied in the morning, and the
  piquets and advanced posts resumed their original stations.

  Notwithstanding the decided and marked superiority which at
  this moment the gallantry of the troops had given them over an
  Enemy, who, from his numbers and the commanding advantages of
  his position, no doubt expected an easy victory, I did not, on
  reviewing all circumstances, conceive that I should be warranted in
  departing from what I knew was the fixed and previous determination
  of the late Commander of the Forces, to withdraw the army on the
  evening of the 16th for the purpose of embarkation, the previous
  arrangements for which had already been made by his order, and were
  in fact far advanced at the commencement of the action. The troops
  quitted their position about ten at night with a degree of order
  that did them credit. The whole of the artillery that remained
  unembarked, having been withdrawn, the troops followed in the order
  prescribed, and marched to their respective points of embarkation
  in the town and neighbourhood of Corunna. The piquets remained at
  their posts until five on the morning of the 17th, when they were
  also withdrawn with similar orders, and without the enemy having
  discovered the movement.

  By the unremitted exertions of Captains the Honourable H. Curzon,
  Gosselin, Boys, Rainier, Serret, Hawkins, Digby, Carden, and
  Mackenzie of the Royal Navy, who, in pursuance of the orders
  of Rear-Admiral de Courcy, were entrusted with the service of
  embarking the army, and in consequence of the arrangements made
  by Commissioner Bowen, Captains Bowen and Shepherd, and the other
  agents for transports, the whole of the army was embarked with an
  expedition which has seldom been equalled. With the exception of
  the brigades under Major-Generals Hill and Beresford, which were
  destined to remain on shore until the movements of the enemy should
  become manifest, the whole was afloat before daylight.

  The brigade of Major-General Beresford, which was alternately to
  form our rearguard, occupied the land front of the town of Corunna;
  that under Major-General Hill was stationed in reserve on the
  promontory in rear of the town.

  The enemy pushed his light troops towards the town soon after
  eight o’clock in the morning of the 17th, and shortly after
  occupied the heights of St. Lucia, which command the harbour. But,
  notwithstanding this circumstance and the manifold defects of the
  place, there being no apprehension that the rearguard could be
  forced, and the disposition of the Spaniards appearing to be good,
  the embarkation of Major-General Hill’s brigade was commenced and
  completed by three in the afternoon, Major-General Beresford, with
  that zeal and ability which is so well known to yourself and the
  whole army, having fully explained, to the satisfaction of the
  Spanish Governor, the nature of our movement, and having made every
  previous arrangement, withdrew his corps from the land front of the
  town soon after dark, and was, with all the wounded that had not
  been previously moved, embarked before one this morning.

  Circumstances forbid us to indulge the hope, that the victory
  with which it has pleased Providence to crown the efforts of
  the army, can be attended with any very brilliant consequences
  to Great Britain. It is clouded by the loss of one of her best
  Soldiers. It has been achieved at the termination of a long and
  harassing service. The superior numbers and advantageous position
  of the Enemy, not less than the actual situation of this army,
  did not admit of any advantage being reaped from success. It
  must be, however, to you, to the army, and to our Country, the
  sweetest reflection, that the lustre of the British arms has been
  maintained amidst many disadvantageous circumstances. The army,
  which had entered Spain amidst the fairest prospects, had no sooner
  completed its junction, than, owing to the multiplied disasters
  that dispersed the native armies around us, it was left to its own
  resources. The advance of the British corps from the Duero afforded
  the best hope that the south of Spain might be relieved; but this
  generous effort to save the unfortunate people also afforded the
  Enemy the opportunity of directing every effort of his numerous
  troops, and concentrating all his principal resources, for the
  destruction of the only regular force in the north of Spain.

  You are well aware with what diligence this system has been pursued.

  These circumstances produced the necessity of rapid and harassing
  marches, which had diminished the numbers, exhausted the strength,
  and impaired the equipment of the army. Notwithstanding all these
  disadvantages, and those more immediately attached to a defensive
  position, which the imperious necessity of covering the harbour
  of Corunna for a time had rendered indispensable to assume, the
  native and undaunted valour of British troops was never more
  conspicuous, and must have exceeded what even your own experience
  of that invaluable quality, so inherent in them, may have taught
  you to expect. When every one that had an opportunity seemed to vie
  in improving it, it is difficult for me, in making this report, to
  select particular instances for your approbation.

  The corps chiefly engaged were the brigades under Major-Generals
  Lord William Bentinck and Manningham and Leith, and the brigade of
  Guards under Major-General Warde.

  To these officers, and the troops under their immediate orders, the
  greatest praise is due.

  Major-General Hill and Colonel Catlin Crauford, with their brigades
  on the left of the position, ably supported their advanced posts.
  The brunt of the action fell upon the 4th, 42nd, 50th, and 81st
  regiments, with parts of the brigade of Guards, and the 26th
  regiment.

  From Lieutenant-Colonel Murray, Quartermaster-General, and
  the Officers of the General Staff, I received the most marked
  assistance. I had reason to regret, that the illness of
  Brigadier-General Clinton, Adjutant-General, deprived me of his
  aid. I was indebted to Brigadier-General Slade during the action,
  for a zealous offer of his personal services, although the cavalry
  were embarked.

  The greater part of the fleet having gone to sea yesterday evening,
  the whole being under way, and the corps in the embarkation
  necessarily much mixed on board, it is impossible at present to
  lay before you a return of our casualties. I hope the loss in
  numbers is not so considerable as might have been expected. If I
  was obliged to form an estimate, I should say, that I believe it
  did not exceed in killed and wounded from seven to eight hundred;
  that of the Enemy must remain unknown, but many circumstances
  induce me to rate it at nearly double the above number. We have
  some prisoners, but I have not been able to obtain an account of
  the number; it is not, however, considerable. Several Officers
  of rank have fallen or been wounded, among whom I am only at
  present enabled to state the names of Lieutenant-Colonel Napier,
  92nd regiment, Majors Napier and Stanhope, 50th regiment, killed;
  Lieutenant-Colonel Winch, 4th regiment, Lieutenant-Colonel
  Maxwell, 26th regiment, Lieutenant-Colonel Fane, 59th regiment,
  Lieutenant-Colonel Griffith, Guards, Majors Miller and Williams,
  81st regiment, wounded.

  To you, who are well acquainted with the excellent qualities of
  Lieutenant-General Sir John Moore, I need not expatiate on the loss
  the army and his Country have sustained by his death. His fall
  has deprived me of a valuable friend, to whom long experience of
  his worth had sincerely attached me. But it is chiefly on public
  grounds that I must lament the blow. It will be the consolation of
  every one who loved or respected his manly character, that, after
  conducting the army through an arduous retreat with consummate
  firmness, he has terminated a career of distinguished honour by
  a death that has given the Enemy additional reason to respect
  the name of a British Soldier. Like the immortal Wolfe, he is
  snatched from his Country at an early period of a life spent in her
  service; like Wolfe, his last moments were gilded by the prospect
  of success, and cheered by the acclamation of victory; like Wolfe
  also, his memory will for ever remain sacred in that Country which
  he sincerely loved, and which he had so faithfully served.

  It remains for me only to express my hope, that you will speedily
  be restored to the service of your Country, and to lament the
  unfortunate circumstance that removed you from your station in the
  field, and threw the momentary command into far less able hands.--I
  have the honour to be, etc.,

                                                JOHN HOPE, Lieut.-Gen.

  To Lieutenant-General Sir David Baird, etc., etc., etc.


  LAST ORDERS GIVEN TO THE ARMY OF SPAIN BY THE GREAT GENERAL, SIR
  JOHN MOORE, K.B.

                                                 HEADQUARTERS, CORUÑA,
                                                  _January 16, 1809_.

  G. O.--The Commander of the Forces directs that commanding officers
  of regiments will as soon as possible after they embark make
  themselves acquainted with what ships the men of their regiments
  are embarked, both sick and convalescents, and that they will
  make out the most correct states of their respective corps; that
  they will state the number of sick present, also those left at
  different places, and mention at the back of the return where the
  men returned on command are employed.

  His Majesty has been pleased to appoint Lt.-Col. Douglas to be
  Assist. Qr.-Mr.-General. Appt. to bear date 5th Decr. 1808.

  Hon. Capt. James Stanhope, 1st Guards, is appointed extra
  Aide-de-Camp to the C. of the Forces.

  [Illustration: John Moore.(signature)]


_Printed by_ R. & R. CLARK, LIMITED, _Edinburgh_.




FOOTNOTES


[Footnote 1: Malta.]

[Footnote 2: Captain Lefebure, R.E.]

[Footnote 3: Captain Lefebure, R.E.]

[Footnote 4: The sight of our Westminster Bridge greatly astonished
one of the Sicilian servants on our return to England. “Cospetto,” he
exclaimed, “and they pretend they could not make a bridge over the
Giarreta!”]

[Footnote 5: Not unlike the Portland stone.]

[Footnote 6: “Don’t fire! don’t fire! With the bayonet! with the
bayonet!”]

[Footnote 7: Yesterday I met Sir Sidney Smith upon the field, and he
asked me to dinner on board.]

[Footnote 8: Calabria.]

[Footnote 9: Captain Lefebure, R.E.]

[Footnote 10: Captain Lefebure was killed at the assault on Matagorda,
near Cadiz, in 1810.]

[Footnote 11: I saw these despatches.--CHARLES BOOTHBY.]

[Footnote 12: Lieutenant Edward Gould, a great friend.]

[Footnote 13: Augusta, on the east coast of Sicily.]

[Footnote 14: Lieutenant Edward Gould, R.E.]

[Footnote 15: It may interest the reader to know that the Sir Brooke
Boothby here mentioned was the father of Penelope Boothby (whose
portrait by Sir Joshua Reynolds is so well known). She was his only
child, and died when six years old, in the year 1791.]

[Footnote 16: Gustavus IV.]

[Footnote 17: This hasty summons meant that he was to proceed at once
_via_ Ystad and Helsingborg to England to rejoin Sir John Moore.]

[Footnote 18: The editor has seen precisely the same effect before
sunrise in Scotland, over the Ochils near Crieff.]

[Footnote 19: Sir Henry Dalrymple.]

[Footnote 20: The horse recently purchased.]

[Footnote 21: Afterwards General Sir John Burgoyne.]

[Footnote 22: A few miles south of Sanagun.]

[Footnote 23: Mulcaster.]

[Footnote 24: Guard or watchman.]

[Footnote 25: Appendix.]

[Footnote 26: It was by his father’s desire that Captain Charles
Boothby entered the Army instead of preparing for Holy Orders, and this
intensified the anguish in parting with his son throughout the war, as
was often stated by Captain C. Boothby in later years.]

[Footnote 27: Said to be the proudest man in France.]

[Footnote 28: See Appendix.]

[Footnote 29: The continuation of the Journals of Captain Charles
Boothby will be found in _A Prisoner of France_, already published by
Messrs. A. and C. Black.]

[Footnote 30: Written to a French General at Reggio.]

[Footnote 31: Written off the coast of Sweden.]

[Footnote 32: Extract from the _Narrative of the Campaign of the
British Army in Spain Commanded by His Excellency General Sir John
Moore, K.B._, etc., etc., etc. By James Moore, Esq. Published 1809.]

[Footnote 33: French army over 20,000.]

[Footnote 34: British army about 15,000.]




_Square Crown 8vo. Bound in buckram._ =Price 6s.=

_Printed on Light Paper, with Deckled Edges._

A PRISONER OF FRANCE

[Illustration: _Reduced facsimile of cover design._]

BEING THE REMINISCENCES OF THE LATE CAPTAIN CHARLES BOOTHBY, R.E.

_Containing a Frontispiece Portrait of the Author, and several small
Illustrations from Pen-and-Ink Sketches in the Author’s Journals._


PRESS OPINIONS.

“The book is interesting from first to last, and the cheery personality
of the gallant writer is one of its greatest attractions.”--_Times._

“We cordially recommend this charming bit of autobiography.”--_Daily
News._

“The book is an extremely pleasant one to read.”--_Daily Telegraph._

“Exceptionally interesting on account of the details which it supplies
concerning the manner in which he was treated.”--_Glasgow Herald._

“A very vivid picture of military life in the Peninsula.”--_Speaker._

“Will be read with eager interest. The story of his imprisonment
and the efforts which he put forth to obtain his liberty is full of
interest.”--_Scotsman._

“It is impossible to read his diary without liking a man who
made so light of trouble, and who bore himself so gallantly in
captivity.”--_Standard._

“The cheerfulness with which he writes throughout is singularly
refreshing.”--_Academy._

“‘A Prisoner of France’ should be in the hands of all young soldiers,
for it is a manual of soldierly kindness and fine humanity.”--_Vanity
Fair._

“When we perceive the surpassing interest of the story, and the
valuable biographical material the book contains, a great wonder arises
that such a work should have been withheld from the public for so many
years.”--_Birmingham Gazette._

“The book is one of the most interesting autobiographies
that have recently appeared, and the narrative has been ably
edited.”--_Westminster Gazette._


A. & C. BLACK, SOHO SQUARE, LONDON.




_Square Crown 8vo, containing Three Sketch Maps._ =Price 10s. 6d.=

_Printed on Light Paper with Deckled Edges._

A BRITISH RIFLE MAN

[Illustration: _Reduced facsimile of cover design._]

  THE JOURNALS AND CORRESPONDENCE OF MAJOR GEORGE SIMMONS, RIFLE
    BRIGADE, DURING THE PENINSULAR WAR AND THE CAMPAIGN OF WATERLOO.


PRESS OPINIONS.

“Altogether this is a most attractive book, bringing back vividly
to the memory one of the most brilliant periods of English military
history, and giving a pleasant, because unintentional, picture of a
gallant soldier and gentleman.”--_The Standard._

“It will be long invaluable as a record of the heroism, the occasional,
though exceptional, excesses, and the wondrous endurance of the British
soldier.”--_Daily Chronicle._

“This book is certainly one that all riflemen will value, and which
all who are interested in the Peninsular War will enjoy.... The author
belonged to a regiment that saw more fighting than any other in the
Peninsula, and certainly Major Simmons was a remarkable man.”--_The
Army and Navy Gazette._

“The journals and letters which make up this volume are welcome as
contributing contemporary records made by an observant man taking part
in world-moulding struggles.”--_Glasgow Herald._

“It is a far cry now to the Peninsular War, and yet seldom have we
read a more realistic picture of certain phases of that historic
struggle.”--_Speaker._

“It is difficult to conceive any officer other than a staff officer
who was likely to have seen more of the fighting in Spain, Portugal,
and Southern France than an officer of the old 95th, the nucleus
of the famous ‘Light Division,’ so long and so well commanded by
Craufurd.”--_Pall Mall Gazette._

“A very strikingly human document.”--_Academy._

“A book which should be in the library of every soldier, but which
is, at the same time, of extreme interest to the civilian. Duty rings
through the pages of what is from first to last a noble and inspiring
book, the record of a noble character.”--_Daily Mail._


A. & C. BLACK, SOHO SQUARE, LONDON.




Transcriber’s Notes


Punctuation, hyphenation, and spelling were made consistent when a
predominant preference was found in the original book; otherwise they
were not changed.

Simple typographical errors were corrected; unbalanced quotation
marks were remedied when the change was obvious, and otherwise left
unbalanced.

Illustrations in this eBook have been positioned between paragraphs
and outside quotations. In versions of this eBook that support
hyperlinks, the page references in the List of Illustrations lead to
the corresponding illustrations.

This book does not have clearly-defined chapters.

Page 215: The symbol after “liable to be turned” is a circle containing
a cross. The map to which it refers contains a similar mark in the
blank area in the upper-middle.