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.