Amongst the distinguished men in the Peninsular war whom my memory
brings occasionally before me, is the well-known and highly popular
Quartermaster General Sir John Waters, who was born at Margam, a Welsh
village in Glamorganshire. He was one of those extraordinary persons
that seem created by kind nature for particular purposes; and, without
using the word in an offensive sense, he was the most admirable spy
that was ever attached to an army. One would almost have thought that
the Spanish war was entered upon and carried on in order to display his
remarkable qualities. He could assume the character of Spaniards of
every degree and station, so as to deceive the most acute of those whom
he delighted to imitate. In the posada of the village he was hailed by
the contrabandist or the muleteer as one of their own race; in the gay
assemblies he was an accomplished hidalgo; at the bull-fight the
toreador received his congratulations as from one who had encountered
the toro in the arena; in the church he would converse with the friar
upon the number of Ave Marias and Pater-nosters which could lay a
ghost, or tell him the history of everyone who had perished by the
flame of the Inquisition, relating his crime, whether carnal or
anti-Catholic; and he could join in the seguadilla or in the guaracha.
But what rendered him more efficient than all was his wonderful power
of observation and accurate description, which made the information he
gave so reliable and valuable to the Duke of Wellington. Nothing
escaped him. When amidst a group of persons, he would minutely watch
the movement, attitude, and expression of every individual that
composed it; in the scenery by which he was surrounded he would
carefully mark every object:--not a tree, not a bush, not a large
stone, escaped his observation; and it was said that in a cottage he
noted every piece of crockery on the shelf, every domestic utensil, and
even the number of knives and forks that were got ready for use at
dinner. His acquaintance with the Spanish language was marvellous; from
the finest works of Calderon to the ballads in the patois of every
province, he could quote, to the infinite delight of those with whom he
associated. He could assume any character that he pleased: he could be
the Castilian, haughty and reserved; the Asturian, stupid and plodding;
the Catalonian, intriguing and cunning; the Andalusian, laughing and
merry;--in short, he was all things to all men. Nor was he incapable
of passing off, when occasion required, for a Frenchman; but as he
spoke the language with a strong German accent, he called himself an
Alsatian. He maintained that character with the utmost nicety; and as
there is a strong feeling of fellowship, almost equal to that which
exists in Scotland, amongst all those who are born in the departments
of France bordering on the Rhine, and who maintain their Teutonic
originality, he always found friends and supporters in every regiment
in the French service.
He was on one occasion entrusted with a very difficult mission by the
Duke of Wellington, which he undertook effectually to perform, and to
return on a particular day with the information that was required.
Great was the disappointment when it was ascertained beyond a doubt
that just after leaving the camp he had been taken prisoner, before he
had time to exchange his uniform. Such, however, was the case: a troop
of dragoons had intercepted him, and carried him off; and the
commanding officer desired two soldiers to keep a strict watch over him
and carry him to head-quarters. He was of course disarmed, and being
placed on a horse, was, after a short time, galloped off by his guards.
He slept one night under durance vile at a small inn, where he was
allowed to remain in the kitchen; conversation flowed on very glibly,
and as he appeared a stupid Englishman, who could not understand a word
of French or Spanish, he was allowed to listen, and thus obtained
precisely the intelligence that he was in search of. The following
morning, being again mounted, he overheard a conversation between his
guards, who deliberately agreed to rob him, and to shoot him at a mill
where they were to stop, and to report to their officer that they had
been compelled to fire at him in consequence of his attempt to escape.
Shortly before they arrived at the mill, for fear that they might meet
with some one who would insist on having a portion of the spoil, the
dragoons took from the prisoner his watch and his purse, which he
surrendered with a good grace. On their arrival at the mill, they
dismounted, and in order to give some appearance of truth to their
story, they went into the house; leaving their prisoner outside, in the
hope that he would make some attempt to escape. In an instant Waters
threw his cloak upon a neighbouring olive bush, and mounted his cocked
hat on the top. Some empty flour sacks lay upon the ground, and a horse
laden with well-filled flour sacks stood at the door. Sir John
contrived to enter one of the empty sacks and throw himself across the
horse. When the soldiers came out of the house they fired their
carbines at the supposed prisoner, and galloped off at their utmost
speed.
A short time after the miller came out and mounted his steed; the
general contrived to rid himself of the encumbrance of the sack, and
sat up, riding behind the man, who, suddenly turning round, saw a
ghost, as he believed, for the flour that still remained in the sack
had completely whitened his fellow-traveller and given him a most
unearthly appearance. The frightened miller was "putrified," as Mrs.
Malaprop would say, at the sight, and a push from the white spectre
brought the unfortunate man to the ground, when away rode the gallant
quartermaster with his sacks of flour, which, at length bursting, made
a ludicrous spectacle of man and horse.
On reaching the English camp, where Lord Wellington was anxiously
deploring his fate, a sudden shout from the soldiers made his lordship
turn round, when a figure, resembling the statue in "Don Juan,"
galloped up to him. The duke, affectionately shaking him by the hand,
said--
"Waters, you never yet deceived me; and though you have come in a most
questionable shape, I must congratulate you and myself."
When this story was told at the clubs, one of those listeners, who
always want something more, called out, "Well, and what did Waters
say?" to which Alvanley replied--
"Oh, Waters made a very flowery speech, like a well-bred man."