_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.