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THE
PRIVATE JOURNAL
OF
JUDGE-ADVOCATE LARPENT,
ATTACHED TO THE HEAD-QUARTERS OF
LORD WELLINGTON DURING THE PENINSULAR WAR,
FROM 1812 TO ITS CLOSE.
EDITED
BY SIR GEORGE LARPENT, BART.
_THIRD EDITION._
LONDON:
RICHARD BENTLEY, NEW BURLINGTON STREET,
Publisher in Ordinary to Her Majesty.
MDCCCLIV.
_The Author and Publisher reserve to themselves the right of
Translating this Work._
LONDON: W. CLOWES AND SONS, STAMFORD STREET AND CHARING CROSS.
PREFACE
TO THE SECOND EDITION.
It has been very gratifying to me to witness the flattering manner
in which this Journal has been received by the Public, and, with one
exception, by the several writers who have noticed it.
As my own part in the Work is so small, the risk I ran in publishing it
was small in proportion; but I confess that I did feel anxious not to
damage the fair fame of my late brother.
The exception to which I allude is that of the Reviewer in the
“Athenæum,” a paper which (having been a subscriber to it for many
years) I hold in high estimation.
The writer must pardon me for observing (whilst fully admitting his
right to state his conscientious opinion of the work itself), that the
sneers at Mr. Larpent’s having been Fifth Wrangler, and at his _slow_
progress at the Bar, are strangely misplaced. Surely a person attached
to literature cannot seriously deprecate academic honours, or deny
their _primâ facie_ evidence of ability. And as for the _slow_ progress
in the laborious pursuit of the law, the Reviewer must have been
aware that such has been the fortune of many eminent Lawyers who have
afterwards risen to the highest honours of the profession. Legal or
political connexions, or a fortunate opportunity of displaying latent
talents, are in truth the chief causes of rapid success at the Bar.
None of these did my brother possess or obtain.
Is it not, therefore, somewhat severe to argue from this admission
of mine, that he was a person not above mediocrity, and to represent
him as merely a respectable sort of second-rate plodding official?
The writer in the “Athenæum” may have had peculiar opportunities of
judging, and it is not for me to contest the opinion he may have
thus formed, but it certainly was not the opinion of my brother’s
contemporaries. The observations of the writer in the “Athenæum”
involve also charges of more importance than his remarks upon my
brother’s abilities—
“We see,” he says, “in the sweeping and unqualified charges against the
soldiers of England, Scotland, and Ireland, the censorious habits of
one who filled the post of Judge-Advocate General, and the passage,” he
adds, “comes with bad grace from one who narrates his own discomforts
_ad nauseam_.”
I had allowed every passage to stand which expressed the opinion of
the Author upon public matters, nor did I expunge those complaints of
personal inconveniences which a man, for the first time placed in my
brother’s situation, naturally feels, and as naturally describes in his
letters to his family.
It has been too much the fashion to garble such Journals to suit the
public taste; but my aim was to give the truth, and the whole truth, of
all that my brother witnessed and described in his Journal.
This rather uncommon fidelity is, I believe, one of the chief merits of
the work, and one of the chief causes of its success.
If my brother, in commenting upon the want of selfcontrol and
irregular habits and propensities of the British soldiery (defects
which the Duke’s own Despatches, his proclamation upon the retreat from
Burgos, and the uniform testimony of the writers upon the Peninsular
War unfortunately confirm), had omitted to notice their many redeeming
qualities, he might have been partly open to the rebuke of the writer
alluded to; but throughout his narrative Mr. Larpent bears the
strongest testimony to the undaunted courage, the immoveable steadiness
of the British soldiers under the severest fire, and the perfect
reliance the Duke always placed upon the bravery of his army.
The truth is, that the conscription in France forced into the ranks of
its army a more intelligent and more intellectual class of persons than
those who volunteered into our service.
Thus the moral conduct of the French soldier was perhaps more correct;
but the stubborn courage, the _pluck_, if I may use such an expression,
of the British soldier, guided by officers taken from the _élite_ of
our gentry, and almost fastidiously alive to the sense of honour and of
duty, enabled them in the Peninsula, at Waterloo, and wherever British
troops have been called into action, to maintain a decided superiority
over their opponents.
It has been remarked, that I have never mentioned the lady to whom
these Letters were addressed.
She was my much honoured and loved mother; but I deprived myself of the
pleasure of noticing her many excellent qualities, lest it should be
thought that, in praising her, I sought to confer credit upon myself,
or to gratify my own vanity.
She was the daughter of Sir James Porter, in his day a distinguished
diplomatist, successively employed in the Netherlands and Germany,
and for many years ambassador to the Ottoman Porte. She married my
father when my brother was very young, and became a second mother
to him. There never was the slightest distinction between him and
her own children, and had we not been told that we were by different
mothers, we should never have known the fact from her conduct. That she
possessed my brother’s warmest affections, these letters would have
abundantly shown, had I not thought it better to omit many passages,
which, however gratifying to her to whom they were addressed, could be
of no interest to the public.
GEORGE LARPENT.
LONDON, JUNE, 1853.
PREFACE
TO THE FIRST EDITION.
The Letters now laid before the Public were addressed by my brother to
Mrs. Larpent, his step-mother, and my mother.
They came into my possession as Executor to my mother, and being also
the sole Executor to my brother, I consider myself at liberty to use my
own discretion in publishing them. With the exception of some matters
exclusively private, and connected with family affairs, the letters are
published as they were written, and not one word has been added.
Until the lamented death of the Duke of Wellington I did not feel
myself justified in making these letters public. Not that they contain
anything in the slightest degree derogating from the exalted estimate
so universally entertained of the character of that great man; for, on
the contrary, they tend to confirm the unanimous opinion entertained of
his admirable qualities; but motives of delicacy forbad my offering to
the world, during his Grace’s lifetime, the many personal anecdotes and
opinions with which they abound.
The reader will naturally expect to know who and what the Author was,
and give credit accordingly to the statements and observations in his
Letters.
Francis Seymour Larpent was the eldest son of John Larpent, Esq.,
of East Sheen, Surrey, by his first wife, Frances, daughter of
Maximilian Western, Esq., of Cokethorpe Park, Oxfordshire. His father,
from his earliest youth, was employed in the public service. In
1763 he was Secretary to the Duke of Bedford at the Peace of Paris,
and subsequently Secretary to the first Marquess of Hertford, when
Lord-Lieutenant of Ireland. For many years he was in the office of the
Secretary of State for Foreign Affairs, and at his death in 1824, at a
very advanced age, held the appointments of Secretary to the Lord Privy
Seal, and of Examiner of all Theatrical Entertainments.
Francis Seymour was born in 1776. He was educated at Cheam School,
under the Rev. W. Gilpin, well known and esteemed as a scholar and
man of letters. From school he went to St. John’s College, Cambridge,
where he distinguished himself, and took his degree as Fifth Wrangler,
and was elected Fellow of that College. After studying the law under
an eminent special pleader, Mr. Bayley, he was called to the Bar, and
went the Western Circuit. Here he formed friendships with several
eminent persons, among others with Lord Gifford, the Right Hon. C.
Manners Sutton, afterwards Lord Canterbury, Mr. W. Adam, son of Lord
Commissioner Adam, and the lamented Francis Horner—friendships which
were extinguished only by death. His success upon the Circuit was slow,
but his character as an able man and a sound lawyer stood high.
In 1812 he was tempted by the Right Hon. C. Manners Sutton, then
Judge-Advocate General, to leave his profession, and to accept the
situation of Judge-Advocate General to the armies in Spain under the
command of the late Duke of Wellington, to remain at head-quarters with
his Grace, and to manage the Courts-martial throughout the army.
At the close of the war in 1814, Mr. Larpent returned home with the
last detachment of the British army from Bordeaux.
Upon his arrival in England he was appointed Judge-Advocate at
Gibraltar; and a new Charter of Justice for that dependency having
been framed, various civil, admiralty, and judicial duties were
annexed to the appointment of Judge-Advocate. Whilst the new Charter
was preparing, Mr. Larpent was appointed to carry on the proceedings
of the Court-martial on General Sir John Murray, at Winchester; and
was subsequently joined with Mr. King, on behalf of the Government
of the United States of America, in the inquiry into the unfortunate
transactions which had taken place in the prison at Dartmoor.
These several proceedings having been satisfactorily terminated, Mr.
Larpent in the spring of 1815 was, at the recommendation of Lord
Commissioner Adam, selected by His Royal Highness the Prince Regent
to undertake the delicate and confidential duty of inquiring into
the allegations of improper conduct abroad, on the part of the then
Princess of Wales, afterwards Queen Caroline. This confidential mission
was accepted by Mr. Larpent, upon the express condition that his
appointment should emanate directly from the Administration, and that
his duties (to use his own words) “should consist not in acting a spy
upon the actions of Her Royal Highness the Princess of Wales, but in
examining and sifting the facts of the case, as stated and discovered
by others.”
On this understanding, and after interviews with Lords Liverpool,
Castlereagh, and Bathurst, and also with the approval of Lord Chief
Justice Ellenborough, Mr. Larpent proceeded ostensibly to his
appointment at Gibraltar, but really overland by Vienna, to see
and consult with Count Munster, to whom he was accredited by the
British Government “as its regularly-authorized, though secret and
confidential, agent.”
However strong might be his own persuasion of the worse than improper
conduct of the Princess, he felt the extreme difficulty of obtaining
respectable parties to come forward with such evidence as would satisfy
an English Court of Justice; and he never hesitated to represent the
danger of taking public proceedings against her. Having conducted
his mission with such prudence and discretion that its object was
never known except to his employers, he proceeded to Gibraltar, and
there executed his arduous civil and judicial duties to the entire
satisfaction of the Governor, Sir George Don, and of the Secretary of
State for the Colonies.
In 1820, upon leaving Gibraltar, he was again employed by the
Government professionally in Italy upon matters connected with the
unfortunate trial of Queen Caroline; and he communicated direct with
the late Lord Gifford, upon whom, as Attorney-General, the management
of the proceedings against Her Majesty officially devolved.
In 1821 Mr. Larpent was appointed by Lord Liverpool, one of the
Commissioners of the Board of Audit of the Public Accounts. In 1824 he
was transferred to the Board of Customs; and, in 1826, was appointed
to the situation of Chairman of the Audit Board, in which he remained
until his retirement, in 1843, from ill health.
He enjoyed his release from active official duties only about two
years, dying in May, 1845. He was twice married; first, to Catharine,
daughter of the late Frederick Reeves, Esq., of the East India
Company’s Civil Service; and, secondly, to Charlotte, daughter to
George Arnold Arnold, Esq., of Halsted Park, Kent, who survived him,
but he left no issue by either.
The favourable opinion entertained of Mr. Larpent’s public services
will be evident from the following testimonials which he received when
he applied to Her Majesty’s Government for his retirement, viz.:—
(Copy.) No. 1.
_Treasury Chambers,
23rd March, 1843._
SIR,
I am commanded by the Lords Commissioners of Her Majesty’s Treasury
to acquaint you that, the First Lord of the Treasury having
communicated to the Board your wish to retire from the Board of Audit,
their Lordships have been pleased to accede thereto, and will give
directions for placing you on a retired allowance of 900_l._ per
annum, to be paid to you in the same manner as the retired allowances
of the Audit Office are paid.
In thus acceding to your wishes, my Lords desire me to state, that
they feel themselves called upon to express the high sense which they
entertain of the integrity, zeal, and ability with which you have
discharged the duties of the important situations which you have
successively filled, and the deep regret which they feel for the cause
which now compels you to retire from the Chair of the Board of Audit.
I am, Sir,
Your most obedient Servant,
(Signed) G. CLERK.
_To F. S. Larpent, Esq._
(Extract.) No. 2.
_Downing Street,
March 3rd, 1843._
MY DEAR SIR,
I have learnt with great regret that we are about to lose your
services in the Audit Board, over which you have so long presided,
with equal advantage to the public and satisfaction to the Treasury.
I only hope that you will reap in the improvement of your health a
benefit equal to that which your retirement will deprive you of.
(Signed) HENRY GOULBURN.
_To F. S. Larpent, Esq._
(Copy.) No. 3.
_London, February 28th, 1843._
F. M. the Duke of Wellington presents his compliments to Mr. Larpent,
and has received his letter, and sends him a copy of a letter he has
received from Sir Robert Peel. The Duke regrets much to learn that the
state of Mr. Larpent’s health compels him to resign the office which
he holds. If referred to, he will state his opinion of the services
performed by him, while under his command.
_To F. S. Larpent, Esq._
_Enclosure in the above Letter._
(Copy.)
_Whitehall, February 27th, 1843._
MY DEAR DUKE OF WELLINGTON,
I return the enclosed letter addressed to you by Mr. Larpent.
I am sorry to hear that the state of Mr. Larpent’s health induced him
to contemplate his retirement from the public service.
(Signed) ROBERT PEEL.
_To the Duke of Wellington_,
_&c._ _&c._
(Copy.) No. 4.
_Whitehall, March 3rd, 1843._
DEAR SIR,
From my high sense of your public services, I have heard with very
sincere regret, on public as well as on private grounds, that the
state of your health compels you to contemplate the immediate
retirement from the important appointment which you hold, the duties
of which you have discharged with great ability and integrity, and
with unremitting zeal.
I have been so incessantly occupied by important public business, that
I have been unable, since the receipt of your letter, to confer with
the Chancellor of the Exchequer on the subject to which the enclosure
in your letter refers, but I will do so without delay, and with every
desire to take as favourable a view of it as the state of the law and
the usage in similar cases may permit,
I have the honour to be,
Dear Sir,
Your obedient and faithful Servant,
(Signed) ROBERT PEEL.
_To F. S. Larpent, Esq._
(Extract.) No. 5.
_March 22nd, 1845._
_60, Lower Belgrade Street._
I shall feel it due to Mr. Larpent to say at what rate I placed his
services.
Never public servant deserved better his hard-earned retirement by
honest, zealous, and able services.
(Signed) F. BARING.
* * * * *
I rejoice in having the opportunity afforded me by the publication of
these Letters, of recording the public services of an affectionate
brother, and of indulging in the remembrance of the many private
virtues which were conspicuous in his upright and honourable career.
I have thought it objectionable to alter the language of the narrative,
although aware of the many inaccuracies in letters written in the hurry
of a campaign (a mode of life foreign to the writer’s habits), and not
intended for publication.
I therefore determined to leave the Letters as I found them, thinking
that the simplicity of the style and the minute details threw over the
Journal a charm of truth and reality which a more studied composition
would not have possessed. I have a confident reliance that my brother
has related nothing that he did not himself believe to be true, for
he was a man of scrupulous veracity, and one not given hastily to
record what he had not at the time sufficient warranty to believe to be
correct.
The Journal carries the reader, as it were, behind the scenes in the
great drama of War. The sufferings of individuals, the hardships
endured in a campaign, are scarcely ever recorded by the historian—they
are lost in the blaze of glory which surrounds such narratives. In
this Journal not only will be seen the miseries which are endured in
the attainment of military glory by the soldier, but the still greater
miseries of the unfortunate people whose country is the scene of
military operations.
Such vivid paintings as are here exhibited must, it is to be hoped,
make the most reckless politician and the most ambitious soldier aware
of the deep responsibility incurred by all who encourage the passion
for military glory, except when war becomes absolutely necessary for
the defence of our country, its liberties, and institutions, and for
the preservation of the independence of Europe.
It was for these objects that the two great wars in which the Duke of
Wellington was so pre-eminent were carried on, and the results—the
recovery of their national independence by Spain and Portugal, and a
peace of thirty-eight years’ duration—fully warranted the sacrifices
made by Great Britain, exalted her national character, and justified
her admiration of the Commander, who, under Providence, was the great
instrument of her success.
GEORGE LARPENT.
LONDON, DECEMBER, 1852.
CONTENTS.
PAGE
CHAPTER I.
Departure from England—Exercises on Ship-board—Off the Coast—Arrival
at Lisbon—Residence there—Journey to head-quarters
commenced—Abrantes—General features of the march—Salamanca 1
CHAPTER II.
Arrival at head-quarters—Ciudad Rodrigo—The Retreat—Its
disasters—Capture of General Paget—Personal Anecdotes—Scarcity of
Provisions—Courts-martial in the army—Business of a
Judge-Advocate—Wellington 21
CHAPTER III.
Arrival of the Gazette—More Courts-martial—The Mad
Commissary—Intentions of Lord Wellington—Social
Amusements—Sporting—Wellington’s fox-hounds—His stud—A dinner at
the Commander-in-Chief’s—Number of Courts-martial—Anecdotes of
Wellington 37
CHAPTER IV.
More Courts-martial—Bal Masqué—Anecdotes of Wellington—Songs in
his praise—Spanish banditti—Excesses of the Army—Carnival—More
Anecdotes of the Duke—The staff—Grand entertainment at
head-quarters—Wellington’s opinion of affairs at home—Murder of an
officer—General Craufurd 54
CHAPTER V.
News of the French—Castilian costume—Equipment of the army—Melancholy
Court-martial case—Wellington in the battle of Fuentes
d’Onore—The chances of war—Anecdotes of Wellington—His opinions
of the war—The new Mutiny Act—Wellington on “Vetus”—General
Murray—Advance of the French 87
CHAPTER VI.
Newspaper complaints—Wellington’s comments—Review of the
Portuguese—Gatherings at head-quarters—Reviews—Recommencement of
the march—The route 106
CHAPTER VII.
The march commenced—Scenes on the road—Villa Dalla—Toro—Castro
Monte—Palencia—Prospects of a general action—Skirmishing—Massa 121
CHAPTER VIII.
March continued—Quintana—Anecdote of Wellington—Morillas—Vittoria—The
battle—Its results—Plunder—Kindness to the enemy—Madame
de Gazan—The hospital—Sufferings of the wounded—Estimated
loss 150
CHAPTER IX.
Pamplona—Pursuit of Clausel—Wellington on the march—Prospects of
more Fighting—Effects of the war—The French position turned—Anecdote
of Wellington—Ernani—St. Sebastian—Wellington’s movements 166
CHAPTER X.
Movements of the army—Wellington on the Portuguese—His personal
habits—St. Sebastian—The siege—Miseries of war—Wounded officers—The
Prince of Orange—Vestiges of the retreat—English papers—False
accounts of the campaign—Incidents of the war 195
CHAPTER XI.
Rejoicings for the victory—Sufferings of Cole’s division—Complaints
of the French—Statements of a French prisoner—Decay of
Spain—Characteristics of Wellington—His opinion of
Bonaparte—Prospects of a renewal of the attack—Exchange of
Prisoners—Wellington’s Spanish estate—His opinion of
Picton—Disposition of the army 220
CHAPTER XII.
Reported renewal of operations against St. Sebastian—Effects of the
war on Spain and Portugal—Wellington’s account of recent
proceedings—Courts-martial—Prisoners shot—Discussions on war between
Wellington and a French deserter—The siege resumed—Work of the heavy
batteries—Trial of General O’Halloran—Volunteers for the storming
parties 238
CHAPTER XIII.
The Author taken prisoner—Kind treatment by the French General—Life
of a prisoner—Release—Details of the Author’s captivity—Curious
scene at General Pakenham’s—A Basque squire 250
CHAPTER XIV.
Picturesque quarters—Spanish reverses—A strange adventure—Spanish
jealousy—Distribution of the army—A pleasant companion—News
from the North—Morale of the French army—The artillery 276
CHAPTER XV.
Fall of Pamplona—Deterioration of the army—Duke of York’s
orders—Orders of merit—Church service—Capture of French
redoubts—March of the army—Incidents of foreign service—Frequency
of desertion—Wellington and the lawyers 289
CHAPTER XVI.
News from France—Lord Fitzroy Somerset—Departure of the Prince of
Orange—Exchange of prisoners—Proximity of the two armies—Wellington’s
cooks—Warlike movements—French attack—The Guards—Deserters—More
fighting 308
CHAPTER XVII.
French attack—Plan of desertion—Excesses of the French—A Basque
witness—Sir John Hope—Movements of the army—Sale of
effects—Wellington’s simplicity of character—A French emigré—Return
of Soult to Bayonne 323
CHAPTER XVIII.
Reports from France—More desertion—Anecdote of General
Stewart—Wellington and his casualty returns—The courtesies of
war—Scarcity of transports—Wellington and the trial-papers—Sir
G. Collier 339
CHAPTER XIX.
Rumours of war—The rival dinner tables—“Slender Billy”—Bonaparte’s
trickery—Spanish violence—Wellington with the hounds—French
and English aspects—The outsides of the nations 352
CHAPTER XX.
State of feeling in France—Rocket practice—The Prince Regent’s
hobby—The Mayor’s ball—The flag-of-truce 362
CHAPTER XXI.
Army supplies—Offending villages—Symptoms of work—Arrival of the
Duke d’Angoulême—The bridge across the Adour—Wellington and
his Chief Engineer—His activity 377
CHAPTER XXII.
Movements of the army—Narrow escape of Wellington—Anecdote of
Wellington at Rodrigo—Novel scaling ladders—Sir Alexander
Dickson—Wellington’s vanity—Operations resumed—Spanish officers—The
passage of the Adour—The road to Bayonne—Death of Captain Pitts 400
CHAPTER XXIII.
Passage of the river—Start for Orthes—Effect of the battle—Feelings
of the French—Wellington wounded—St. Sever—Church and
School—Aire—Wellington on the conduct of the Allies—Indurating
effects of War 417
CHAPTER XXIV.
Reports from the seat of war—The Duke d’Angoulême—The German
cavalry—Misconduct of the Spaniards—Attacks on our grazing
parties—Movement of head-quarters—Death of Colonel Sturgeon—Visit to
the hospital—New quarters—Skirmishes—Wellington and the mayor 436
CHAPTER XXV.
Difficulties of the march—Failure of the bridge of boats—The
Garonne—Excesses of Murillo’s corps—Bad news—Exchange of
prisoners—Arrival before Toulouse—A prisoner of war—Anecdote of
Wellington 452
CHAPTER XXVI.
Uncertain intelligence—Capture of Toulouse—Wellington at the
theatre—The “Liberator”—Ball at the Prefecture—The feelings of the
French—Soult and Suchet—Ball at the Capitole 478
CHAPTER XXVII.
Toulouse—Its churches—Protestant service—Libraries—Reception of the
Duke d’Angoulême—The French Generals—Popularity of Wellington 501
CHAPTER XXVIII.
Toulouse—Mr. Macarthy’s Library—The Marquess of Buckingham—General
Hope—Wellington’s dukedom—The theatre—A romantic
story—Feeling towards the English—The Duke on the Russian
cavalry 523
CHAPTER XXIX.
Preparations for departure—Bordeaux—Imposition on the
English—Greetings from the Women—Mausoleum of Louis XVI. 541
CHAPTER XXX.
The opera-house—The cathedral—The synagogue—A Jewish wedding—Strange
show-house—Wellington and King Ferdinand 553
CHAPTER XXXI.
Country Fêtes—Brawls with the French—The Duke
d’Angoulême—Mademoiselle Georges—The Actress and the Emperor—French
acting and French audiences—Presentation of a sword to Lord
Dalhousie—Georges’ benefit—Departure 566
APPENDIX 579
PRIVATE JOURNAL,
&c. &c.
CHAPTER I.
Departure from England—Exercises on Ship-board—Off the
Coast—Arrival at Lisbon—Residence there—Journey to Head-quarters
commenced—Abrantes—General features of the March—Salamanca.
H. M. S. _Vautour_, off Mondego Bay,
Sept. 14, 1812. Monday.
MY DEAR M——,
It was very fortunate that I kept to my post at the George Inn, at
Portsmouth; for at seven in the morning of Saturday the 5th I was
called from my bed by the Admiral, who told me that, in consequence
of the news from Madrid, he had received orders to send a ship of war
after the _Pylades_, to endeavour to prevent her landing the money
she had carried out to Oporto, and to direct her captain to take it
on to Lisbon. He told me that, if I could get ready and on board
immediately, I might accompany him. Accordingly, soon after nine
o’clock I was on board His Majesty’s ship the _Vauteur_, or _Vautour_,
or _Vulture_, a fast-sailing brig of sixteen guns—fourteen carronades,
twenty-four pounders, and two long nines; the only remaining trophy
in our Navy of the glorious expedition to the Scheldt! The Captain, a
most open-hearted, friendly man, by name Lawless, is a native of the
south of Ireland. The vessel is an excellent sailer, and the whole
in good order, with a fine crew of a hundred and five men; but the
accommodations are very small, as all is made for use, and nothing for
convenience or ornament. The Captain’s cabin, about ten feet by twelve,
he shared with me. One of us hung up a cot on each side at night, and
we lived there when these cots were removed in the daytime; there was
no opening but the hatches at top, no windows at all. I had, however,
what was most material, a most friendly, kind reception, and shared
every comfort the Captain was possessed of. This consisted of a joint
daily, generally fresh, good wine and brandy, vegetables, and, up to
this day, good bread, great attention, and a thorough welcome.
_Friday the 11th._—At eleven o’clock precisely, as our timepieces and
observations had indicated, we sighted Spain; and had the additional
amusement of good charts, and maps, and telescopes, to examine the
coasts, besides assisting in the observations on deck, and watching all
that was going on. The scene was one of constant activity during the
voyage, not a moment’s idleness; the sails were mended; the masts were
repaired; the deck was caulked, and made water-tight for the winter;
the winter rigging was made ready; the sides of the ship painted. All
this, besides the usual routine duty of the ship, was done whenever
there was smooth water. One fine calm evening the Captain amused me
with a sham-fight, and put the men through their exercises; first at
one set of the guns, then at the other; marines and all were at work.
He showed me also the effect of a long shot and a grape shot from the
carronades in the water. These occupations, with a little reading and
writing, preparatory to my land journey, filled up the days until dark,
when we took to our cots. We first made the land off Cape Adrian, half
way between Cape Ortegal and Cape Finisterre, and got in close to the
Sisarga Island, about one o’clock on Friday the 11th. We then coasted
close in shore all the way to Cape Finisterre, which we reached at
dark: the shore is very bold and fine, but with a barren aspect, and
the appearance of an inhospitable and almost uninhabited land. The
high tracts towards Corunna, and perhaps about Ferrol, were only just
visible at first; but from Sisarga to Finisterre we saw them about as
plainly as we should have done on shore.
_Saturday 12th._—This morning we found ourselves close off Cape
Saliers, having passed Vigo Bay in the night. Thence we slowly crept
along shore all that day in sight of the country, buildings, &c., until
we arrived at dark within about twelve miles of Oporto, off Villa de
Condé. The country is very beautiful and picturesque, nearly as bold
as the former, but very much built over, dotted with many villages
and detached houses, and verdant with much wood; all externally very
loveable and delightful. Monte Santa Tecla, at the entrance of Minho,
is an imposing object, and the whole coast interesting, especially
from Viana to Oporto, and most of all about Villa de Condé and Oporto.
Condé is a handsome-looking town, well situated, with several large
good-looking houses, and an aqueduct, reaching nearly three miles I
should think, parallel to the shore, through two villages to the hills.
The hills were well wooded, and many houses, villas, &c., covered their
sides: whether the aqueduct was still in use we could not discover; but
I saw no breaks in it as I viewed it through the glass. We made signals
to the pilots to come out from Oporto on Saturday evening, but were too
far off to be observed; and from the fear of an accident, though within
ten miles, were obliged to stand off all night, and try to keep our
place.
_Sunday the 13th._—Still abreast of Condé, and having no wind, the
whole day getting near to Oporto. Several fishermen came on board from
the boats around. They all agreed that the _Pylades_ had not been at
Oporto—tidings which delighted the Captain; but upon the Consul’s boat
coming off at a signal, when we got near the bar in the evening, we
found that the _Pylades_ had been off the bar three nights before, just
the time she sailed before us at Portsmouth, and had landed General
Oswald, the medical men, and the money at nine o’clock at night,
and had gone on; and that the money was on its way to the army. We,
therefore, put right about again, and got about ten miles from the bar
of Oporto, which we had heard roaring many miles off, before dark. Last
night we were again becalmed, and at twelve to-day (the 14th) we were
only in Mondego Bay, near the spot where the _Apollo_, and forty of her
convoy, were lost in 1804. Here we met a wind right a-head, and have
been beating out ever since. At three it shifted a little, and we are
now returning, and hope to clear Mondego Point and get in sight of the
Burlingas before dark to-night. From about ten miles below Oporto, near
Aveiro, to the Mondego highlands, the coast is flat, and we have only
seen in Mondego Bay sand-hills and a few huts, and have only heard the
surf roaring at a distance of nearly ten miles. We are now about fifty
miles from the Burlingas and about ninety from Lisbon, and hope to be
there to-morrow.
Our officers are, the Captain, Lawless; first lieutenant, Soper; the
second lieutenant, a fine, stout Irishman, who has amused me much, by
recounting the escapes of his past life.
_Tuesday 15th, 12 o’clock._—Still about twenty miles from Mondego
Point. Marshal Beresford, who is lying at Oporto badly wounded, sent
out to ask for a passage to Lisbon on board our vessel; and it was
arranged that we were to fire two guns if we could accommodate him:
but the Captain was not able to do so in his small cabin, even if we
had both given up our berths, which we would cheerfully have done. It
was fortunate, however, he did not come on board, as he would have
passed three miserable nights if he had made trial of our scanty
accommodation.
_Lisbon, September 17th._—Two more nights out becalmed—one, off Mondego
Bay; and another, off the rock of Lisbon. We got in here this morning
at seven o’clock, and have been all the morning running about the
town. The view at the entrance into the harbour is very beautiful. We
anchored at dusk off Cascaes Fort last night. The General, Peacock, has
given me quarters at the Marquis d’Abrantes’, and to-day I dine with
the General. It is said that there is a great mortality in the army;
the officers sickly, and a great want of money.
_Lisbon, September 20th, 1812._—I have now been three days in this
town, which resembles the description of certain ladies whom I have
a right to suppose to be within your knowledge, for I think they are
described in the Bible, and in other good books which you study—all
outside show, except in the state apartments of a few individuals,
which are certainly very magnificent. Streets very offensive, palaces
by the side of ruins, and sometimes even the palaces in a state of
partial decay, though in other parts stately and magnificent in their
architectural proportions. Everywhere there is an aspect of extreme
poverty side by side with some showy indications of wealth; and it
is evident that among the lower classes impostors are as plentiful
as mosquitos. The heat is extreme—worse than I found it at Paris in
August 1802. The evenings, however, are cool, and near the water
the breezes are refreshing. They congratulate me, indeed, on the
comparative mildness of the season, which is favourable for my journey
to head-quarters, which are at Dulmas, in advance of Valladolid.
On landing, I proceeded immediately to General Peacock, the commanding
officer, who received me with great civility, and I dined with him that
day. As to forwarding me to the army, it appears all that he can do is
to give me a route, which will procure me at different stations (though
at times two or three days distant from each other), rations for bread
and forage, as there are depôts at intervals of from one to three days’
journey all the way. I shall have to purchase two mules and two horses.
The price of horses is high; on an average, two hundred and twenty
dollars each. Captain C——, of the staff here, has offered to go to the
fair with me on Tuesday to buy cattle and all other necessaries for my
journey. There is no route except by Ciudad Rodrigo, and, therefore,
though it is said that head-quarters may be at Madrid before my
arrival, I shall be compelled to go that way. Baron Quintilla was not
in town. The Envoy asked me to dinner immediately to his country-house
at Benefica, and was extremely civil to me, remarking that mine was
not a common letter of introduction. He asked me again yesterday, but
being unwell, I declined the flattering invitation. He also offered to
carry me in his suite to a bull-fight, twelve miles off; but as this
would detain me from Sunday to Tuesday, and interfere with my whole
plan, I am obliged reluctantly to forego the amusement. I am not here
for my pleasure. When I arrived at the Envoy’s he was absent, and I had
a _tête-à-tête_ with General Abadia, who is here on his way to Cadiz,
where he is to take a high official position. He appeared a clever man,
but I understand his loyalty to Ferdinand is doubtful, for a letter
addressed to him by his wife, who is with the French, inquiring when he
would fulfil his promise of joining their party, has been intercepted.
This may be all a trick, but there is something suspicious about it. He
blamed us very much, charging us with having made two great blunders,
in not seizing Santona, by troops from England, and securing that river
communication and post to land all our men in, instead of Lisbon; and
also in not allowing the Sicilian expedition to seize Tortosa, and
maintain a post on that river, the most important and most annoying to
Soult. He spoke in high terms of Lord Wellington, but seemed to think
that the fate of Europe depends upon the conduct of Russia in this
conjuncture.
The idea seems now to be, that Soult, Suchet, and Joseph have formed
a junction. They have above sixty thousand effective men; and it is
added, that the French now have their old position on the Ebro always
in their power. General Carrier was brought in here a prisoner on
Thursday, from Salamanca: he had five wounds, which are nearly healed,
but he thought he should lose a finger. He came in to the General
whilst I dined there. He seemed to be out of spirits, but said that
Marmont was nearly well, and would resume his command. The French, I
hear, are intrenched near Burgos.
I have obtained quarters at the _casa_ of the Marquesa d’Abrantes, a
good situation, and a lieutenant-colonel’s quarters. Her husband is a
prisoner in France. I have a separate door, which leads away to four
small rooms to the street; bare walls, painted with military trophies,
and the whole kept as quarters. In these I have two tables, a dozen
chairs, a bedstead, a mattress, a worked flounced quilt, some fine
sheets, but, of course, no blankets. At first we had nothing else;
but I have now got a silver basin and ewer, some knives and forks,
and a supply of water. These apartments might easily be made very
comfortable. The state rooms of this house, looking over about an acre
of garden (which is open to the public), are very handsome. As the
marquesa lost her mother last week, about twenty cabriolets a-day have
brought visitors to pay respects, &c., and about a hundred and fifty
beggars to receive their alms. By the way, the English have caused
everything here to become very dear. The churches are gaudy, and in
some respects not a little ridiculous, but still, to my mind, nothing
like so trumpery, absurd, and indeed indecorous in every respect as
those in Flanders, and in some parts of Switzerland and Piedmont. The
Roman Catholics here certainly have the appearance of devotion, and
seem more in earnest, much more so than in France, and more so than in
any country I have seen.
_Lisbon, September 23rd, 1812._—I was at the fair, in the heat of the
sun, all yesterday, and have bought two small mules, one small horse,
and have agreed for another, a small pony, to carry me. The fair has
knocked me up as well as my man Henry. I have been all this day with
Captain C——, almost my only friend here, at market, bargaining for
travelling necessaries. Commissary P—— will lend me one public mule;
so now I hope I am equipped as far as that goes. The General offers
to send me with the next treasure, which goes nobody knows when; but
refuses me two soldiers to go with me, though it is said that it is
really dangerous to go without them.
_Lisbon, September 26th, 1812, Saturday._—Though in a constant fever
from fleas and mosquitos, we should have started yesterday with some
treasure, but my servant Henry could not stir, and my Portuguese
servant took himself off at eight in the morning. I have now got a
German deserter as servant instead of the Portuguese; and trust he will
not carry on the old game, and desert with my baggage. He is said to
speak a little English and Portuguese, and know the country well.
_Sunday._—For one day more I have postponed my journey, intending to
start with some treasure and two officers on Tuesday. The Opera-house
here is a dull, heavy building, about the size of the Haymarket
Opera-house; but the dancing more like Sadler’s Wells than the Opera
in England: great activity and force in the buffo style like comic
masks—this appears to be the favourite style here. Macbeth was turned
into a pantomine; the death and dagger scene very fine, but the whole
effect marred by the mummery of fantastic dancing and skipping witches.
I have not had time to see any thing except Lisbon, and the aqueduct:
the latter work certainly fine, but not of an attractive shape. Round
arches would have had a better effect, and the piers want evenness and
regularity; nevertheless it is a work worthy of the Romans. I contrived
to-day to go to Belem church, a very fine specimen of arabesque, the
best thing I have seen here; in style it is between the Saxon and
Antique, with a little Gothic intermixed, the ornaments beautiful and
in high preservation.
_Abrantes, October 6th, 1812._—A day’s halt here enables me to write to
you. I left Lisbon on the 30th September, by two o’clock, with my sick
party, and thence eight miles to Saccavem in about three hours. The
road to Saccavem and nearly to Villa Franca is fine; and, except that
there are no trees besides olive-trees, which appear like apple-trees
at a distance, and no verdure, the river and country are picturesque.
On the second night we reached Villa Franca, sixteen miles; the third
night, Agembiga twelve; the fourth, Santarem sixteen. The positions
and accounts in our gazettes made this route interesting, but the road
itself is dull and sandy. Suppose a few olive-trees and firs on Bagshot
Heath, and you have the scene. Saccavem and Santarem are both fine
positions for appearance, and the latter for defence. All the towns are
half in ruins, as well as almost all the single houses on the road to
this place. On the fifth day we reached Galegao, sixteen miles; on the
sixth, Punhete, twelve miles; on the seventh, Abrantes, eight miles.
I am now eighty-eight miles from Lisbon. From Galegao to Abrantes
the road runs near the river, the verdure increases, there are a few
chestnut, oranges, and larger firs, and in the spring the scenery must
be very picturesque. Abrantes, on a commanding eminence, is in a very
fine situation, and looks over much fine country. Finding my sick men
unequal to the fatigue, I applied to the officer of the treasure, and
got a soldier, a fine active Tyrolese, who does more work in an hour
than my poor creatures in a day. He cleans down the animals, waters
them, loads, &c., and as I carry his baggage for him, and give him
rather better fare, he seems to be very well pleased with the post. He
leads a mule on the road, walking at his ease: by this means I now get
off about six o’clock every morning.
The treasure-party, finding the heat made the men ill, now start at
five o’clock; still I am much better than I was when I started, and
when on the march I go quicker than the treasure, as I have easy loads.
Henry leads the first mule on horseback, the soldier walking by the
side to keep everything right, whilst I bring up the rear myself,
always on the watch, and thus have but few accidents. One of my mules
is a nice fat round fellow, who eats so much they cannot keep the
baggage from rolling off him without holding it on; another mule had a
troublesome propensity of lying down with the baggage. My Tyrolese only
speaks German, French, and a little Portuguese.
So many of the men of another treasure-party were ill, that they
halted, and then went on with us; this crowded the road and made it
more uncomfortable. Here at Abrantes we separate—they go to General
Hill. On arriving at a place, the first thing is to hunt for the _Juge
de Fores_, to procure quarters, but if there is an English commandant,
he must first be beaten up for an order, then the quarters are to be
found; sometimes those allotted are full; then another billet must be
obtained: sometimes the stables are full of kicking mules, and other
stables must be found elsewhere. At length we unload, all in one room
with four walls, a table, and a chair. Then at every third place we
have to go to the Commissary to draw rations, straw, and barley for the
animals to eat—spirits, meat, and bread for ourselves, and wood for
firing. These must sometimes be fetched from half a mile to a mile and
a half off, and be procured from roguish Portuguese under-commissaries.
Sometimes great pieces of green wood are allotted to us, which will
not burn, and we have nothing to cut it with. This, which we often
leave as not worth carriage, costs Government a large sum: a third of
the quantity, if good, would serve better. As the wood and straw we
cannot manage to take with us, we carry on barley, and buy a little
straw, or Sadran corn straw, which is the best when fresh. At first the
Portuguese were very civil at quarters, but we are now too numerous,
and many behave ill from disgust and weariness. They are now very
backward to supply anything, even when they have it, which often is
not the case. They provide a room, a lamp, water, a basin, a towel by
night, a table, a chair, and something to lie upon; some furnish very
decent beds.
Two days ago the scene changed, and it has since rained almost
incessantly. We got wet yesterday, halted to-day, and to-morrow I
probably shall start, to be soaked to the very bones. My mode of living
may interest you. I rise, then, at half-past four, take some bread,
spirits and water, and a raw egg when I can get one, or sometimes a
few grapes. When we stop to water, I eat some bread and cheese, a dear
luxury on the road, a very little country wine and water, and now and
then coffee or chocolate. In the evening, a stew (when we can get it)
comes as a treat, and then we lie down on the floor at eight o’clock in
hope of sleep—a hope more frequently fulfilled than it was at Lisbon.
Stores are all now at double price, and will soon not be procurable at
any cost.
The Commissary says we shall have six hours’ walk in the rain instead
of the sun now; and after two or three days we shall find only deserted
ruins where the French came, and we after them, last year. I hope this
is exaggeration. Windows in this great town are not to be seen even
in Colonels’ quarters, or in the best shops. This is an active, busy
place—thoroughly military. The vintage was going on as we proceeded on
the road, and we had abundance of grapes. The poor soldiers, having
three days’ rations served out at once, consume all the drink on the
first day, sell the meat to save carriage and the trouble of cooking
it, and live upon bread and grapes and water, till their next supply
comes to hand. At Santarem and here, hospitals are established as well
as at Lisbon; many fine-looking fellows, reduced to skeletons, are in
them. I have a new route to-morrow round about: first day, Garvao;
second, Nisa; third, Villa Velha; fourth, Cernados; fifth, Castello
Branco: sixteen miles, twenty miles, twelve miles, eight, and eighty.
_Sunday, Castello Branco, October 11th, 1812._—Here am I thus far
safe on my pilgrimage, and tolerably well considering all things,
for I seldom get above two or three hours’ sleep, and many nights
none at all, from noises, fleas, gnats, mosquitos, bad accommodation,
and anxiety. From Abrantes I got safely to Garvao, which is finely
situated, and the walk to it wildly beautiful. The next day I warned my
people to rise by half-past four; we loaded in the dark, but started by
daylight, and got in before the treasure to Niga. A good mattress and
clean sheets, &c., on the floor, without fleas, are genuine luxuries.
For the first time in Portugal I got six hours’ sleep. In the same
manner I started again from Niga by five o’clock, and got through two
treasure days’ journey in one to Cernados. Understanding that at Villa
Velha there were only desolate ruins, scarcely supplying a dry cover,
by starting again early yesterday from Cernados (which consists only of
one house, half of it a ruin, with a nest of ruined cottages round it),
I reached this place by ten yesterday, and thus had all the remainder
of the day to rest, and this in addition (Sunday), for the treasure
arrived only to-day.
I have thus avoided the common piggery of being all in one house at
Cernados, and a bad night at Villa Velha. By calculating distances and
time also, I have kept my men and myself dry. As the rains generally
come on hitherto after twelve in the day, and in the night, we have
only been caught in two English showers. It rained all the time we
were at Abrantes, from twelve on the day we arrived, entirely through
the following day, to about an hour before we started. All the rest
of the day was fine, rain again all the evening—the same at Niga, and
the same here also. And such rain! it would saturate anything in ten
minutes. As it is now cooler, I walk half the way, which also saves my
pony. I have here assigned to me the quarters of the Generals who pass
through. These consist of the ruin of a fine house for quarters, and a
large room with four great windows without glass, and four doors in it;
gold frames around without their looking-glasses in them, fine chairs
without bottoms, &c., &c. The house belongs to the _Illustrissimo
Signor Barao_. I have a mattress on the floor with fleas innumerable.
I have my route, and here it is: first day, Eschalas de Cimo; second,
San Miguel; third, Menoa; fourth, Sabugal; fifth, perhaps a halt;
sixth, Aldea da Ponte; seventh, Sturno; eighth, Ciudad Rodrigo. We are
to carry provisions for four days with us, then provide for three,
and start to-morrow or next day as the treasure mules are able; then
go on to Fuentes de Castelegos, Forgadilla, Calçade de Don Diego,
Salamanca. Few of these places are in Faden’s map. Nothing can be had
on the road, it is said, not even dry stabling or a dry room; and much
wet is expected. The place is finely situated on the east side of a
hill which is crowned by an old Moorish castle and walls, and a modern
monastery in ruins! It is one of the best towns we have seen, and there
are the ruins of some good houses; provisions and necessaries are to be
bought here, but at a high price. There is part of the fine episcopal
palace (where a Portuguese General is quartered), with a garden in
tolerable order, a good church, and several picturesque-looking ruined
monasteries, with crosses at every step. I have taken a few sketches
where we stop on the road, though too much occupied with business to
think much of the picturesque. Niga is also picturesque.
My adventures are all much alike. The only variety is an arrival wet
through to the skin. No one can say where we shall go to at last. I
suppose I must now proceed to Salamanca, and then something must be
determined upon. Things do not go on well at Burgos, I fear; there is
much delay, more than was expected. Lord Wellington is, it is said, not
satisfied. At Cernados a cobbler was the _Juge de Fores_, and gave us
our billets. On the walls was an excellent likeness in chalk of Lord
George Lennox, done by the shadow, I suppose from the lamp which is
allowed us. I hear of sickness everywhere; much at head-quarters. The
general orders have many more on the list of absent from sickness, than
on that of arrivals at the army. Soult is very strong. General Hill, I
believe, is still at Toledo.
Near the mountains on the other side of the Tagus is an old castle or
two, and some pleasant glimpses of fine valleys, and the deep banks
of the river which is hidden from the view. The sandy commons like
Bagshot, over which the road passes, are more bold, the hills higher,
and covered almost entirely with the gum cistus, which has a sweet
scent, but, being out of bloom in that state, is not so pleasing as our
heaths with their various colours. There is a little heath like the
Devonshire heath, and some parts of the road rather like Dartmoor. Near
Niga are seen the mountains about Elvas, and in the line to Badajoz,
and the Spanish mountains of Estremadura, The country proved to me the
merit of some of Rubens’ Spanish views, which are, like his Flemish
pictures, most correct in the character of the scenery. From Niga,
after proceeding a league, you wind down a wild Devonshire or Welsh
sort of road; first cross a small river, then the Tagus again, almost
down steps—not so bad as some wild parts of Ireland, to be sure, though
very bad for the loaded mules. Here is very little oak, underwood, some
fir, but chiefly and perpetually the gum cistus, which grows to about
four feet high. Villa Velha is a village in ruins, finely situated on
the side of a hill looking over the river. It is now nearly deserted.
The soldiers with baggage pitched a tent below the office in the
cellar. From the hills above the river, before we crossed the Tagus, we
saw Castello Branco standing high on the hill, and the Moorish ruins.
Cernados is like a Welsh village of the worst sort: rocks for streets,
ruined stone houses inhabited in part, and used for quarters. Their few
architectural large buildings alone constitute the difference between
these and the worst Welsh or Irish villages. From Cernados to this
place we again crossed a country like a large Bagshot Heath, but by a
very tolerable good road; adieu.
P.S.—The Captain has just sent me word we must start to-morrow instead
of the day after; he says that the treasure is not safe without the
serjeants. Our detachments are all foreigners; many are drunk, and have
quarrelled with the inhabitants!
_Salamanca, October, 1812._—The first day after leaving Castello
Branco, we reached Eschalo de Cimo, a pretty, and once a thriving
village, with a good church, not so much destroyed as damaged; one
handsome large house in the vicinity belonging to the Squiress, Donna
Joanna, the best rooms in which were gutted and used as quarters, the
rest inhabited by two or three families of the better kind, with some
smart misses among them. The other houses mostly in ruins, but still
some of them occupied. In this place bread was not to be bought, nor
even an onion! but we fared well, in good rooms, with good fires. On
our road thither we kept Castello Branco in sight nearly all the way;
we also saw the distant mountains in Spain and Portugal. The road was
over a sort of Dartmoor, stones, rock, sand, with fern oak a foot
high, and abundance of apples. The second day we reached San Miguel de
Cima. The same sort of village as Eschalo de Cimo, one good house for
quarters, the rest small, and generally, like the church, in ruins;
but the inhabitants were fast returning to it. Here we obtained bread,
onions, and some hay. The appearance on entering the village, with the
trees about it, very pleasant. The third day’s route was to Memoa, five
long leagues. At first a good road and picturesque country, with a very
fine view of Monsanto, with its town and castle on the right, and of
the other hills grouped with it in the distance. Pennamacor, which is
almost destroyed, we left on our right, about a mile, with its castle,
standing boldly on the side of a hill, with rock and wood around it,
and a rich-looking valley below. This is a fine situation, backed, as
we left it, by Monsanto. We also passed Pedrigoa, a large village,
nearly destroyed and deserted, and at last, after passing over a hill
by a horrible road, through an oak copse, where we had nearly lost our
way, we arrived at the heap of ruins called Memoa. This was the worst
place we had stopped at all the way. There was only one room in the
town, that only water-tight, and there were no stables. I took the
driest corner in a large common room, because there was a stable under
it.
I could see and hear everything in the stables, for the floor was
still less tight than the roof. The leg of a chair or a table, in
spite of all possible care, went two or three times through it. I got
a little hay, and slept behind a great chest, in my blanket. Three of
the natives were in the room at night. The fourth day we had three
leagues of fine road, though bad travelling, through a hilly wood of
arbutuses in bearing, and Portugal laurels in flower, heath in bloom,
a plant like the lignum vitæ, and broom. This day’s route brought us
to Sabugal, where there is generally a halt, but this our captain
declined. Sabugal stands on a hill, very finely situated, but commanded
by other hills; the way is over a bridge and river, and with a winding
road up to it. The situation is not unlike that of Ludlow; the town
very inferior in size and beauty, but picturesque. The castle itself
with its square Moorish towers, more so than Ludlow. The town is all
in ruins; not even a weather-tight room in it. I got a large sort
of barn, open in the roof in several places, with no doors, and two
large windows, without even shutters, and four others half closed. On
our road thither from Memoa we found half the body of a man, nearly a
skeleton, but with flesh and nails on the toes. It was lying on the
road, as if to scare travellers.
The market-place at Sabugal is, I think, very pretty, and everything
in it very cheap: this, indeed, was the cheapest place through which
we had passed. The fifth day we reached Aldea da Ponte, the last
Portuguese village. The road was interesting, as we passed near Fuente
Guinaldos, so long head-quarters, and Alfayetes, also head-quarters.
We passed just under Alfayetes, and saw Lord Wellington’s house on
the side of the hill, with the old castle. This place is now in
ruins, like the rest. We then passed over the plain where our cavalry
distinguished themselves in a sharp affair with the French. Aldea da
Ponte is much cleaner than the other villages.
Here we saw more pots, pans, basins, &c., than usual; these the people
desired us to make use of instead of hiding them from us, as was
generally done in Portugal. On the sixth day, we came, after a short
league, to a small village on the side of a hill, the first in Spain,
then on to two or three more, and in less than six leagues we reached
Ciudad Rodrigo. This town stands on a rise, in an undulating sort
of rough Salisbury Plain. It is two-thirds in ruins, but the public
buildings appear to have suffered comparatively little, and might,
most of them, be restored. The entrance to the town is striking. We
got an indifferent quarter in the suburbs, immediately opposite the
place where the light battalions entered. The main breach was round
the corner of our abode. The Spaniards had nearly restored these two
breaches, but from ill luck or neglect both had entirely given way,
and there must still be some months’ work before they can undo and
clear enough away to begin to rebuild again. Everything was scarce in
the town, and the people imposing and uncivil. On the seventh day we
proceeded to Brondillo, where we were obliged to stop, as there were
only two houses in Castel Legos, to which the route sent us. This was
by far our worst day’s journey; the distance was seven leagues, that
is, twenty-eight miles. It took us to accomplish this from six in the
morning to past three, of which time it rained eight hours and a half,
nearly all that time like a bad English thunder-shower of ten minutes’
duration. No coats could keep out the wet, and it was accompanied by
a strong, cold November wind, for the weather for the last week has
been as cold as an English November. We all suffered, and I have been
chilly and aguish ever since. We then, for the first time, entered a
Spanish cabin; and oh! how superior to those of Portugal! of Ireland!
of Scotland! and if I did not consider these cottages as farms and
not as cottages, I should say of England too! All neat and clean; with
pots, dishes, boilers in abundance.
The people are proud, but if treated with civility, courteous and
kind, though they are turned away from their own firesides by us
and the Portuguese three or four nights in the seven. They made us
a great fire, and did all they could for us. The women seem chatty
and merry—the men, the handsomest and best-grown, with the finest
countenances I ever saw, except perhaps in Switzerland. We met with
the same sort of treatment and kindness at the next village. The house
belonged to the priest, with whom, through the medium of some mongrel
Latin and Spanish, I managed to converse a little. These quarters are
some of the best I have had since leaving Lisbon; at Togadillo, where
the route sent us, there was only one good house.
At Robedila, a place out of the road, where we got by accident, finding
we had passed Togadillo without knowing it, all was comfort again.
This place the French occupied for some time with ten thousand men.
We arrived yesterday at Salamanca. After the first five leagues from
Ciudad Rodrigo, which were as rough as Dartmoor, we have passed through
a country like the neighbourhood of Salisbury Plain, only that the
villages were much more numerous, though several only of three or four
houses, now nearly all repaired. Not a single large, or, I believe,
two-storied house, from Ciudad Rodrigo to this place. Much of the
country now quite a fine green, but a very large part in cultivation.
The land looked good; about midway it consisted of, for five or six
leagues, clay, and knee-deep: in some places a light soil, or reddish
sand; with water up to the mules’ bellies, from the heavy rain, though
it had ceased twenty-four hours. The people have plenty of bread and
straw, but there are no shops in the villages. They only sell to oblige
each his own lodger for the night. Bread was threepence a pound—it had
been fourpence. All along this country, from St. Martin de Rio hither,
are abundance of acorns, almost as good as chestnuts; quite sweet.
The muleteers and men halt to eat them. This also gives good fires
everywhere. Horses and bones are strewed more or less along the whole
way from Lisbon. In one place, about seven leagues from Salamanca, were
thirteen heads arranged in a row, as stepping-blocks for passengers
through the water. I believe there was a little cavalry brush there.
Salamanca stands well, but in a sort of Salisbury Plain. The colleges
are destroyed, but the church is most beautiful, and the entrances much
finer than those of our cathedrals—the figures and heads very fine
indeed.
The altered Roman bridge is striking. The town is so full, principally
of sick, that I have got bad quarters, half a mile out of the town; my
direction l’Ultima Casa.
_Later, same day._—I have been again looking at the town. The great
church is very fine, and not damaged, but there are many miserable
ruins of noble colleges, some gutted, some nearly razed. The public
library has a fair supply of books, but too exclusively of sacred, or
rather ecclesiastical literature; there are, however, good classics,
French, and modern learned works, mathematics, and others: it is about
two-thirds of the size of Trinity College, Cambridge. I hope to proceed
the day after to-morrow, to Valladolid, which it is proposed to reach
in seven days. There are good shops here, and articles not dear. It is
curious to see the same effect of ages and of tastes as in England.
Below and behind the great altar of the church was some old English,
or, as we should say, Saxon architecture, that is, a rude imitation of
Greek. Then came a florid sample of Gothic, not in the best taste, but
beautifully ornamented, with screens, &c., in the style of King Charles
and King William; forced Grecian again, of two centuries back.