Blackwood's Edinburgh Magazine, Volume 67, Number 414, April, 1850Various
History
Blackwood's Edinburgh Magazine, Volume 67, Number 414, April, 1850
Various
England -- Periodicals; Scotland -- Periodicals
I saw before me one of the bravest, the most
distinguished, the most trusted of the Generals who fought and
conquered under Wellington; him whom Wellington himself had pronounced
the "ablest officer in the army." Little did I dream that, in less than
five weeks from this very interview, when war was supposed to be at an
end, and ere he had fully recovered from his present injury, he was to
be roused--perhaps from that couch--by martial sounds at dead of night,
to be wounded a second time, taken prisoner, and carried off in triumph
into the city which he now besieged! The other person present was an
aide-de-camp, who sat at a table writing. I reported myself and party.
"Yes, I have heard, sir," said his Excellency, speaking, apparently,
with some degree of effort. "Should have been happy to have given
you quarters here to-night; but it's impossible: we are quite full.
You must proceed, with your convoy and escort, till you regain the
high-road, then take the first quarters you can find. Every man's good
wishes will attend you, for you bring what we are all in want of.
To-morrow you will have all the easier march to Dax. Do not, on any
account, go further than Dax to-morrow: that is where you are to be
to-morrow night. I wish you to be particular in attending to this. Good
afternoon, sir."
On returning to the street, I found our whole party far more reconciled
than I had expected to the idea of proceeding. Mr Chesterfield had
already remounted. The mules had now been kept standing, with their
loads on their backs, more than half-an-hour; and the two Capatazes
received the announcement with great equanimity, each after the manner
of his own nation. The Spaniard, as gravely as though uttering some
time-honoured adage of his race, observed that a long march to-day
makes a short march to-morrow, and that travelling tires a loaded mule,
but resting kills him; while the Portuguese contented himself with a
shrug of the shoulders and a _paciencia_--the two great remedies of
his countrymen for all the troubles that flesh is heir to. Jones stood
close at my elbow, with a face as festive now as it was ruthful not
long before. "Please, sir," said he, "it's sperrits for all the party,
sir. The hofficer has done it very handsome, sir. Don't care now if we
marches all night, sir."
Just as we were moving, I was joined once more by Captain Gabion, who
came on with us a little way, walking by the side of my pony, and
bearing in his hand a small parcel. "You can't imagine, Mr Y----," said
he, "how _very_ much I feel annoyed that we can't accommodate you."
"Pray, don't mention it," said I. "In two or three hours we shall be
under cover."
"Yes," replied the captain, in a consolatory tone. "But then it's such
a shocking bad evening. Why, you'll be drenched to the skin."
"Well, never mind that. I must change when I get in."
"Ah! but then you'll find it such a dreadful road," said he. "The lane
is nothing but slush and quagmire from one end to the other."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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