An Eloquent Soldier: The Peninsular War Journals of Lieutenant Charles Crowe of the Inniskillings, 1812-14

By Gareth Glover

Lieutenant Charles Crowe's journal of the 27th Foot (Inniskillings) of the final campaign of Wellington's army is a rare work for many reasons. It is, perhaps surprisingly, the first memoir about this campaign from this famous regiment to be published.Crowe wrote a daily journal at the time, which practically guarantees the authenticity and accuracy of his account. But what makes it special is that Crowe was extremely well read and was an accomplished writer, so that when he wrote up his journal in 18423, he was able to embellish his basic journal, describing his thoughts, actions and words in beautiful detail. He thus turned his record of his short army career into a masterpiece of journalism. Clearly written purely for the enjoyment of his family, Crowe does not pull his punches: he censures officers both junior and senior; he talks openly of the ravages of war, and the pillaging, raping and looting; the horrors of war, describing the deaths and horrific wounds of many in lurid detail, the cowardice and stupidity; and he also describes the mundane in detail nothing is passed over.Crowe is an invaluable source to military historians on many levels, and his journal will stand proudly deservedly in the pantheon of great military memoirs.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Open Road Integrated Media
• Release date: Jan 24, 2020
• ISBN: 9781473811829

Gareth Glover

Gareth Glover is a former Royal Navy officer and military historian who has made a special study of the Napoleonic Wars for the last 30 years.

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An Eloquent Soldier

An Eloquent Soldier

The Peninsular War Journals of Lieutenant Charles Crowe

of the Inniskillings, 1812-14

Edited by

Gareth Glover

FRONTLINE

BOOKS

An Eloquent Soldier

This edition published in 2011 by Frontline Books,

an imprint of

Pen & Sword Books Limited, 47 Church Street,

Barnsley, S. Yorkshire, S70 2AS

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© Gareth Glover, 2011

The right of Gareth Glover to be identified as Author of this Work

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Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

ISBN: 978-1-84832-593-7

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Contents

List of illustrations

Foreword

Charles Crowe

Acknowledgements

Chapter 1 Sailing to Portugal

Chapter 2 Proceeding to Join the Army

Chapter 3 With the Northamptons

Chapter 4 Joining the Inniskillings

Chapter 5 The Great Advance

Chapter 6 Vitoria

Chapter 7 Pamplona

Chapter 8 Soult Attacks

Chapter 9 A Trip to the Rear

Chapter 10 Entering France

Chapter 11 Sick Quarters

Chapter 12 Return to the Regiment

Chapter 13 The Army Advances

Chapter 14 Toulouse

Chapter 15 Peace

Chapter 16 Home and Recuperation

Chapter 17 Waterloo

Chapter 18 Ireland

Bibliography

Index

Illustrations

Plates may be found between pages 144–5

  1

Military General Service Medal 1848

  2

The British army crossing the River Bidassoa 1813

  3

Battle of Vitoria 21 June 1813

  4

The battle of Sorauren (or Pyrenees) 28 July 1813

  5

Battle of Toulouse 10 April 1814

  6

The Bridge of Boats at Bayonne

  9

A model of a fusilier of the 27th Foot circa 1815

  8

Almourol Castle

  9

Moreira de Rei Castle

10

The harbour at Pasajes, circa 1890

11

St Mary’s Church, Coddenham, Suffolk

Black and white illustrations

(all author’s collection)

Crowe’s sketch of the battle of Vitoria

‘A Spanish guerrilla’

Sketch of Sorauren

Action at Santesteban

Crowe’s sketch plan of the battle of Toulouse

Foreword

The story of a junior officer in the Peninsular War, as told through the journals of Lieutenant Charles Crowe of the 48th (Northamptonshire) Regiment of Foot and later of the 27th (Inniskilling) Fusiliers, is a fascinating and absorbing tale. It may appear therefore very surprising that these journals have never been published in full before; and, indeed, without the diligence and sheer tenacity of Crowe’s very distant descendant, J. J. Heath-Caldwell, affectionately known as ‘JJ’, it is more than likely that they never would have been brought to print.

J. J. Heath-Caldwell was born and raised in New Zealand and had no contact with his father’s British relatives until as a young man he chose to visit Britain in 1980 for a one-year working holiday. His grandfather, Captain Cuthbert Heath-Caldwell DSC RN, had died the previous year, but JJ’s maiden aunt continued to live at the family home in Dorset. The family had sold their estate of Linley Wood in Staffordshire in 1949 and moved to a thatched cottage in Dorset, and all the relics of the family had been hung on every available wall; they filled every cupboard and shelf and numerous locked chests stacked high. Centuries of family history just lay there, gathering a thick layer of dust as it all sat in a time capsule, just waiting for someone to show an interest.

That person was JJ, who decided to remain and establish his career in Britain; and over the intervening years he has been working diligently to sort through this treasure trove as time and career have allowed. One book that particularly fascinated him was an old leather bound diary with the title emblazoned in gilt lettering on the spine Peninsular Campaign Volume 1. Finding the extraordinary story of this young man who went to fight against Napoleon’s army in Spain a riveting read, he was cut short as the volume ended in mid-campaign. There was clearly a second volume; his aunt could remember its existence – but where was it now? A thorough search of the house revealed nothing and it appeared to have been lost forever. But JJ’s dogged spirit led to appeals being launched throughout the family and on the internet in what seemed a hopeless search for the missing journal. When all hope seemed to be at an end, an email from Australia announced that the second volume did exist and had just been quoted by Martin Cassidy in his book Marching with Wellington: with the Inniskillings in the Napoleonic Wars, published in 2003.

It seems that Volume Two was held by the Inniskilling Fusiliers Regimental Museum at Enniskillen Castle, where presumably it had been deposited on loan many years before. All sides felt that the journals should be reunited and after some negotiations, the museum handed their volume to JJ, who is determined to ensure they never get parted again.

Volume two formed the centrepiece of Martin Cassidy’s work, but size constraints meant that a great deal of the journal was omitted entirely or passages cropped; and unfortunately this has, in my view, damaged the integrity of the whole. This, now combined with the contents of Volume One, means that two-thirds of the present production has never previously been published.

The reader may wonder whether the profusion of military memoirs of this period already brought to print means that everything has already been said. Is there any point in publishing it? The answer on so many levels is an emphatic, ‘Yes there is!’ The Inniskillings are a very famous regiment which fought with courage throughout the Peninsular War; indeed it was the only regiment in the British Army with three battalions that were all serving on ‘foreign service’ in various parts of Spain. But, despite this, the only known memoirs from persons serving in this regiment are that of Francis Simcoe,* who died at the siege of Badajoz in April 1812, and that of Private Emerson,† who again describes the scene at Badajoz and the carnage of Albuera, which he observed shortly after the battle. But that is the sum total of their accounts; there is no witness to their exploits at Salamanca, Vitoria, the Pyrenees, San Sebastian, the Nivelle, the Nive, Orthez and Toulouse; Charles Crowe fills that void almost completely.

At the same time there are actually no memoirs at all relating to the 48th (Northamptonshire) Regiment beyond the short journal for 1811 of Major William Brooke;‡ hence the records of the eighteen months that Charles Crowe served with them are invaluable.

But there are more to the journals of Charles Crowe than this; for although the journals, as they survive, with their clean, tidy script, show that they were written when he was older, when memories had faded and blurred with time, it is nevertheless clear that they are actually fair copies taken from original journals written as events actually occurred while on campaign, interspersed with copies of the few letters he seems to have sent home to his parents. Their veracity is shown clearly by the fact that I have found very few instances where the official documents differ from Charles’s version of events, and on most of those occasions I have been able to prove pretty conclusively that Charles’s version of events seems the most likely. Certainly his version has a real feel of authenticity and I have found no reason to doubt him.

Charles Crowe wrote his journals purely for the fascination of his family, and he paints fine pen portraits of his fellow officers, of all ranks, all with candid honesty. He clearly disliked many of his colleagues and is not afraid to voice his views on each, from bullying superiors to insupportable prigs, from duel-happy ensigns to abject cowards, from gamblers and sots to rapists – Charles pulls no punches.

He describes battle in a matter-of-fact, but feeling, way; the deaths of soldiers are described in lurid detail but not without honouring their memory and evident feeling for their loss.

His portraits of incidents are also enhanced by dialogue, the gist of which was presumably recorded at the time and padded out later. Indeed, at times his journals read like a novel: although clearly based on verifiable fact, is it going too far to describe him as the ‘Dickens of the Army’?

From his evidence, it becomes clear that the rigid class-difference between soldier and officer, so evident within barrack life where their paths rarely crossed, crumbled into a close familiarity on campaign that would not go unrecognised by soldiers today; the earthy banter between general and private was given and received, without a thought to the blind adherence to subordination we often now erroneously associate with this era. When you face death daily together, rigid convention is discarded as chaff to the wind. The journals of Charles Crowe will destroy at a stroke many of the rigid preconceptions of historians of this era of warfare. Many of the memoirs by officers that survive are from very senior officers, or those on their staff, where they were inevitably distanced from the ordinary soldier and the every day life of ‘petty warfare’, or from those of Guards officers, whose wealth and connections ensured a very comfortable lifestyle even when on campaign. These can therefore give a rose-tinted version of life for an officer at this time; a life that was completely alien and unrecognisable to junior regimental officers in the average line regiment such as Charles. This could be why on the few occasions Charles has cause to refer to Guards officers he does so with indignant disparagement.

Few journals have got so near to the honest nitty-gritty of everyday soldiering of this period; we are shown the harsh life clearly: the abject misery of long wet and cold marches; the flea bitten hovels that served as billets; the inconsistent supply of food and the scarcity of ready money to make good their rations; the constant problems of purchasing, maintaining and securing from theft their horses and mules; the sudden horrors of war and agonising deaths or mutilations; constant illness and extreme fatigue; long hours on picket duty and little sleep – oh, for a soldier’s life!

Charles Crowe is not always lovable; he rails against the world and occasionally over indulges in religious ideals and morals, and he can also whinge; but overall we get the picture of an honest, everyday man, trying to succeed against adversity and we can admire him for triumphing over it all.

I have studied this period in history for some thirty years, but Charles Crowe has still managed to educate me on many aspects of their lives and taught me much I did not know; he challenges many preconceived ideas and in my view is a MUST for anyone who really wants to understand what it was like to fight with Wellington’s army in Spain.

GARETH GLOVER, CARDIFF

_______________

* Published as Our Young Soldier, Lieutenant Francis Simcoe 6 June 1791–6 April 1812, Toronto 1996.

† Possibly the same Private John Emerson who fought at Waterloo and received a medal. His short memoir is published in William Maxwell’s Peninsular Sketches; by Actors on the Scene, vol. 2, Cambridge 1998.

‡ Major William Brooke’s journal was published in Sir Charles Oman’s Studies in the Napoleonic Wars, London 1929, entitled A Prisoner of Albuera.

Charles Crowe

Charles Crowe was born on 1 March 1785, the second son of Philip and Margaret Crowe, his father being a draper of Earl Soham in Suffolk. His father had an older brother, one Henry Crowe, a church minister who was ‘a remarkably handsome man with well-polished manners … universally respected as well as loved’. The Reverend Crowe married Elizabeth Haylett, one of whose daughters, Katharine, formed the line of descendants that lead down to ‘JJ’ Heath-Caldwell.

Charles’s older brother, Philip (1779–1831), seems to have proceeded to India in 1798 at the age of nineteen to join the Indian Army and earn his fortune. He resided there for fourteen years and did not return until 1812, when he promptly married Matilda Willis and settled down secure in his wealth at Coulsden in Surrey.

The other siblings were Frances, known to the family as Fanny (1781–1856); Eliza (1786–1858); Susan (1793–1848) and Edward (1793–1815).

Nothing is really known of Charles’s early life, but at the ripe old age of twenty-five he was enlisted as an ensign in the West Suffolk Militia, on 25 March 1810. The Militia was somewhat equivalent to our modern-day Territorial Army, turning out in peacetime for so many days per year to train, but raised only for homeland defence, although in wartime they were often ‘embodied’ for long periods to garrison strategic sites, thus releasing front line troops for overseas service. By this time the Militia was also seen as a recruiting ground for the main army and many men joined as Militia officers without purchase in an attempt to gain an appointment in the army by recruiting a certain number of men. It is very possible that this was the intention of Charles as he rose to lieutenant in the West Suffolk Militia on 22 May 1810, only two months after he had become an ensign!

On 14 August 1811 Crowe was appointed an ensign in the 2nd Battalion 48th (Northamptonshire) Foot and his journal commences a full year later in September 1812; when orders were received for the battalion to sail to Spain.

While in the Peninsula Charles gained his promotion to lieutenant in the 101st Foot on 24 December 1812; but by 14 January 1813, a mere three weeks later, he had exchanged into the 3rd Battalion 27th (Inniskilling) Foot* with whom he served throughout the war in Spain and Southern France.

Charles saw action at the battles of Vitoria, the blockade of Pamplona, the serious fighting at Sorauren, the various actions in the Pyrenees and finally fought at Toulouse. Despite being present during these actions, it is also true that Charles was absent from the regiment for significant periods with severe headaches and weakness; some have seen this as evidence that he was a shirker and something of a hypochondriac.*

With the war ending, he returned with the 2nd Battalion to Ireland and, although he volunteered, he was not sent to Belgium and thus missed the battle of Waterloo. He does, however, give some interesting accounts of that battle, clearly picked up from his returning colleagues, which helps to cement our understanding of the regiment’s actions during the battle, as again there are precious few regimental witnesses to their actions that fateful day.

Eventually in 1817 the second battalion was disbanded and Charles returned to Suffolk on half pay. Here he married Elizabeth Thomas in Lowestoft on 22 December 1818; she was five years older than Charles, around thirty-nine years old, and they do not seem to have had any children. They settled quietly at Coddenham where they resided until his death on 15 June 1855 and he was buried at St Mary’s in Coddenham on 22 June.†

_______________

* Cassidy mistakenly states that he was appointed to the 2nd Battalion who were serving on the East coast of Spain, but he promptly joined the 3rd (the junior) battalion and remained with them throughout until late 1814.

* See Cassidy, who bases his statement on the evidence of Volume Two, which in fairness is all he had available to him; but during the whole period of Volume One he shows no such illness, and I have concluded that he did develop some underlying health issue, although I do not believe it to have been simple coup de soleil.

† Crowe’s passing is recorded in The Annual Military Obituary for 1855, by Henry Stooks Smith, London 1856.

Acknowledgements

I must begin by thanking JJ’s brother Michael, who saved me a great deal of work by completing the initial transcription of Crowe’s journals.

With any such book as this, but particularly this book, it has been necessary to delve into a great deal of records to try to authenticate the statements made by Charles Crowe. It is impossible for any one person to have the intimate knowledge of so many diverse subjects and so I have relied heavily on other members of the ‘Napoleonic Community’ a great deal to make sense of it all. It irritates me greatly that someone looking in on our community can easily get the impression that we are a bunch of egotistical, back-biting, charlatans; in fact, the great majority are extremely knowledgeable, friendly and extremely helpful, willing to spend countless hours delving their records to seek out answers to the questions of their fellow enthusiasts. I must therefore thank the community at large for their help, advice and support on this quite tricky project. There are, however, a few particular individuals to be singled out, who, as always, have bent over backwards to advise me in their areas of expertise; never once showing irritation at my constant flow of random questions: Mick Crumplin, as ever, was a font of knowledge on medical and surgical matters; Pedro Ramiro shared his expertise in Latin and Spanish; Ian Robertson gave me his indefatigable support and expert knowledge of the Peninsular war; Ron McGuigan, who seems to be able to find information on literally anybody, helped me greatly on some of the issues raised by Crowe; and thanks to Bob Burnham, who shares my passion for memoirs. I must also thank Tony Barton for kindly granting permission to publish a photograph of his superb model of a soldier of the 27th. Many others have contributed along the way and I thank them all, particularly Philip Haythornthwaite, who suggested numerous alterations/additions to my footnotes, all of which were gratefully received; the man’s knowledge is encyclopaedic!

I must also thank my long-suffering wife, Mary, who has always encouraged and supported me in my work and is my rock.

Conventions

I have as always tried to stay as close to the original text as possible; however, some alteration to the punctuation, minor spellings and the expansion of abbreviations to the full words has been made for the ease of the reader. Names of places and people have been corrected to their accepted modern spelling to aid the reader in identifying them and enabling them to follow their movements more easily. Words that are missing from a sentence to make the meaning clear are indicated according to standard practice by […] and if a word is unreadable or the paper damaged and I have guessed at the missing words they are indicated as […?]. Foreign or unfamiliar words are shown in italics and glossed where necessary; the list below shows a few words not common today that Crowe used regularly, but idiomatic and idiosyncratic usages have been retained. Other than these few amendments the text is exactly as Charles Crowe wrote it.

Some terms used by Crowe

Accompts: accounts

Buro: Spanish word for ass

Certes: archaic form of ‘certainly’

Cognomen: nickname (Latin)

Coup de soleil: sunstroke – often dismissed as a minor condition, it can in fact be serious and cause long-term effects as described by Crowe

Pisan: Spanish paisano from French paysan, countryman

Sutler: A camp follower who peddled provisions to the soldiers

Yclept: ‘called’ from the Anglo-Saxon clipian, ‘to call’

A Faithful Transcript of my own Letters and Diary

from the Peninsula

in the years 1812–1813–1814

By Charles Crowe

With my recollections of concurrent events

(Commenced Dec 29th 1842)

1

Sailing to Portugal

The seemingly interminable war against France was in its nineteenth year when Ensign Charles Crowe finally received orders to sail to join Wellington’s army in Spain. Wellington had now been in the Peninsula for four years and despite a number of notable victories against the French, their overwhelming numbers in Spain had always prevented Wellington taking full advantage of his successes. But in 1812 the pendulum started to swing in Wellington’s favour: Napoleon began draining the Peninsula of troops to feed his ambitious and ultimately disastrous foray into Russia; the border fortresses of Ciudad Rodrigo and Badajoz had fallen to Wellington in bloody assaults; and the French had been seriously demoralised by a heavy defeat at the battle of Salamanca, following which Madrid had fallen. The 1st Battalion of the 48th Foot had recently fought at Ciudad Rodrigo, losing 62 men killed and wounded, at Badajoz, losing another 173 men in the carnage, and at Salamanca, losing a further 79; thus the 2nd Battalion was ordered to furnish replacements.

Ensign Charles Crowe had transferred from the West Suffolk Militia a year previously, without paying for his commission; statements in his journal indicate that he gained the appointment by the patronage of Lord Moira, colonel of the 27th.

The 2nd Battalion had previously served with Wellington’s army but following the critical losses suffered at Albuera, the surviving few were transferred to the 1st Battalion and the second was ordered home to recruit. Charles had joined the battalion in barracks at Chelmsford and would have learnt his duty bashing the parade square; but like every young officer, he yearned for the excitement of campaigning and was sure he would gain his laurels in battle. In order to record his military adventures Charles began his journal …

In the month of September 1812, the 2nd Battalion of the 48th Regiment, stationed at the new barracks Chelmsford, was roused one morning, soon after the arrival of the mail, from the monotony of garrison duty, by the unusual early call from the bugle for orders. The sound put every one on the alert, but no one could explain the cause, for the Adjutant had not returned from the colonel’s quarters; whither clerks from the orderly room were repairing loaded with books and papers of returns. Curiosity and conjecture were at the highest pitch, when the Adjutant, [with] his officials all bustle and haste, made their appearance; and encountered from many voices at once, the eager enquiry of ‘Well Dixon,* what’s in the wind now?’

His laconic response was ‘A detachment for Portugal; nine officers, and every effective man: parade an hour later, in heavy marching order; every one to be present; so my hearties look out!!’ and off posted this important functionary.

While the parade was forming, Colonel, now Lieutenant General Sir William Hutchinson, knight. G.C.H, put his arm into mine, drawing me aside, said, ‘The order I have received is very peremptory, that I shall be obliged to insert your name in the return, in spite of my wish to retain you here!’

I replied ‘I feel highly satisfied colonel, by your kind wish, but truly I have now worn a red coat so long, that I feel anxious to earn a title to it, by foreign service.’

‘Well, well!’ rejoined the colonel, ‘that is a right feeling on your part. I wish it was participated by others, but I am determined that some of our ‘skulkers’ shall go! Captains Grey and Watkins,† belong to the 1st Battalion, but are in no hurry to join! They shall go!’ It will be shown hereafter how this good resolve was partially over-rided [sic].

Some weeks passed, and when the route arrived, I was unable to raise myself in bed, in consequence of a violent inflammation of the liver, and was so reduced that, when the detachment passed under my window to ‘The Grenadiers March’ I could not help crying with vexation and disappointment. I was roused from my despondency by a knocking at my door, and in compliance with my feeble call of ‘Come in’ that amiable and warm-hearted creature, Mrs Hambly,‡ who had just parted with her husband, brought back some music books, which I had lent her. She was naturally, all sorrow and excitement! She gave me her blessing and good wishes for my recovery and rushed out again. This was the last time we met. Poor dear lady! Hers was a short, but strange and eventful life!!!

In the course of that day Colonel Hutchinson kindly visited my sick room and cheered my spirits by his animated witty and gentlemanly conversation. My recovery was rapid, for in about ten days I was able to creep into the sunshine in the barrack square where the colonel and even Mrs Hutchinson kindly joined my walk, occasionally.

During one of these saunterings, I told the colonel that finding myself convalescent, I was anxious to obtain his leave to join the detachment at Portsmouth by means of the coaches. He admitted the plan was practicable, if I was equal to the exertion, for after a long fortnight’s march the detachment had but just reached Hilsea Barracks, where, in all probability, they would wait three or four weeks for embarkation. In the most friendly manner, he gently urged me to give up my plan, but finding me resolved, issued the order for my proceeding and kindly prepared for me, an early dinner in his own apartments before I started. The kindness I experienced on this occasion, I shall ever remember with gratitude and pride!

Saturday 16 October, afternoon, I packed myself into the coach for London and when I arrived at the Old Slaughter’s Coffee House in St Martin’s Lane,* a great resort at that time for military men, I found thirty miles journey was quite enough for my strength. And I began to think I had been rash in not harkening to the friendly advice of Colonel Hutchinson. The arrival of my old schoolfellow, my cousin, a surgeon near Pall Mall,† cheered my exhausted spirits.

A good night’s rest and excellent breakfast did me much good, so that when my brother joined me from Surrey, and offered to accompany me to Portsmouth I felt all my energies renewed. The proximity of The Golden Cross, Charing Cross,‡ induced us to take the coach from thence. Of this we afterwards bitterly repented for we were from five o’clock on the Monday afternoon ‘till nearly eight the next morning travelling seventy-two miles. I was quite exhausted by fatigue, but roused up when my brother told me we were about to enter the fortress, for we were approaching the palisades of the Half Moon, or Ravelin. How fervently did I wish myself outside the coach, that I might have had a full view of the imposing aspect of a regularly fortified town!§ I did make the utmost use of my languid senses, but our provoking coachman, who had for so many hours been drawing ‘his long length along’ redoubled his speed, and we passed the palisades and the ravelin, rumbled over the drawbridge under the portcullis, and through the dark gateway into the town, with a celerity, which gratified his whipship, but not my curiosity. My military ardour awakened with the conviction that I was at length within a formidable fortress, the defence of which would require at least twenty thousand soldiers!!

We took up our quarters at the George Hotel,¶ and engaged private apartments, that we might uninterruptedly enjoy the society of each other, until the following evening when my brother would return home.

Philip,** were it possible! Participated with more than a brother’s feelings in my situation, because in the year 1799, he was in the same hotel, with our kind uncle Wiseman,* previous to his own embarkation for the East Indies Army! During breakfast Philip questioned me relative to my prospects of promotion to a lieutenant, when I expressed the utmost confidence which I felt in the promises of Lord Moira,† to our uncle Henry,‡ and his lordship’s letter to myself acknowledging the receipt of Colonel Hutchinson’s strong testimonial, especially as these were supported by the provisional application of my former Colonel Sir William Parker, Bart., of the West Suffolk Militia,§ who had been private secretary to his lordship when ambassador.

Philip admitted my hopes were well grounded, but thought that a letter to his lordship from the port of embarkation for foreign service would be a good auxiliary. I therefore wrote the following, under his superintendence.

My Lord,

Before embarking for Spain, I once more trouble your lordship with my thanks for [your] kindness, which I shall recollect with pride and gratitude, though it has not hitherto been accompanied with the success your lordship intended.

I observed in last Tuesday’s Gazette the promotions in the 27th Regiment but, however my ambition may feel hurt at the non-appearance of my name, I trust that as a soldier I feel other sentiments which will not allow me to repine at so equitable an arrangement when, to the generosity which prompted your Lordship’s former patronage, I have added the hopes, which a faithful discharge of my duties on service is allowed to encourage, I have finally to request that I may still be remembered. And then if your lordship has an opportunity of getting me into the 27th Regiment I shall no longer regret the present delay.

My late commanding officer Colonel Hutchinson has given me so many flattering assurances of his approbation, and of his willingness to testify the same, that if your lordship should have an opportunity of applying by letter to him, concerning my character, I feel confident that the result would be honourable to me, and satisfactory to your lordship. I have the honour to be, etc., etc,

  Charles Crowe, Ensign 48th Regiment.

To this, when in the Peninsula, I received the following flattering reply.

Sir,

There was so much proper feeling and delicacy in the letter which you addressed to me that I thought it would be advantageous for you to have it perused by the Commander in Chief (The Duke of York!!!) and I am persuaded it has made an impression very favourable for you.

There being no less than six vacancies occasioned by the casualties of service in the list of lieutenants of my regiment, I thought I could without injustice recommend you and another young man for whom I was interested for two of them, four ensigns of the regiment being to be promoted before you. The other person I knew to be as much an object of the Duke of York’s patronage as of mine, yet His Royal Highness found it necessary to reject the application on the ground that there were eight ensigns in the regiment older than you two. In the event of another recruiting company being added to my regiment (a measure long pressed by me as urgently necessary to keep up three battalions on service) I have great hopes you would be appointed to a lieutenancy in it. The Duke of York has recommended the addition of that company to my depot, but the Secretary at War has made difficulties.

I have the honour, Sir, to be, your obedient servant

  Moira

With the forgoing, I find I have preserved the following copy (the original I transmitted to Lord Moira) it is so characteristic of my kind friend, that I must transcribe it here:

To Ensign Crowe

48th Regiment

Dear Sir,

   You were pleased some few days ago, to apply to me for a testimonial of my opinion of you as an officer under my command. It becomes, therefore, a matter not more due to justice than productive of sincere satisfaction to me thus to certify that I have marked with an highly approving eye your diligent attention towards, and accurate performance of your duty in all respects, since I have enjoyed the honour of commanding the second battalion. Believe me to be, dear Sir, your very faithful humble servant

     William Hutchinson, Colonel & Lieutenant Colonel,

     48th Regiment

My brother and I were about to sally forth to view the town, when I spied Captain Gray. This gave me a good opportunity of reporting my arrival, and I requested him to obtain permission from the commandant at Hilsea Barracks, where the detachment was quartered, for me to remain in lodgings near the

To Ensign Crowe

48th Regiment

Chelmsford New Barracks, 29 August 1812

Dear Sir,

You were pleased some few days ago, to apply to me for a testimonial of my opinion of you as an officer under my command. It becomes, therefore, a matter not more due to justice than productive of sincere satisfaction to me thus to certify that I have marked with an highly approving eye your diligent attention towards, and accurate performance of your duty in all respects, since I have enjoyed the honour of commanding the second battalion. Believe me to be, dear Sir, your very faithful humble servant

William Hutchinson, Colonel & Lieutenant Colonel,

48th Regiment

My brother and I were about to sally forth to view the town, when I spied Captain Gray. This gave me a good opportunity of reporting my arrival, and I requested him to obtain permission from the commandant at Hilsea Barracks, where the detachment was quartered, for me to remain in lodgings near the seaside, for the recovery of my health in conformity to the instructions of our surgeon at Chelmsford. My request was readily granted for the barracks were so over full, that officers were living two, three and even four, in one room. In our walk I met with my fellow ensign, Hambly, and told him my plan when he promised to ask his brother-in-law, Twincham, a Purser in the Navy, residing at Southsea to search for lodgings for me. We met many more of my old companions, all of whom were surprised to see me there. Philip and I wearied ourselves in our peregrination over the town, and along or rather round the fortifications, and mutually regretted the supineness of government in having suffered a densely inhabited town, like Southsea, to have sprung up within less than half range of shot immediately in front of the Queen’s, and nearly so of the King’s Bastion* where an enemy might at once make a strong lodgement.

The next evening my kind brother left me by the Mail, when I went into the coffee room of the hotel, and found myself very solitary!!! I was looking at a newspaper, without reading a word, for my thoughts were far away when I was roused by the loud voice of my compeer Hambly, as he entered with some officers of the Fusiliers. He came across and asked me to join their supper party, but I declined by saying my health and spirits would not enable me, and that I intended to go off to bed early. He regretted I would not, for he had promised to show his friends some of his sleight of hand tricks, and he wanted my assistance, so he would call me to join them after supper to which, at his earnest request I assented. It was very evident that some of the party had encountered a previous carousal, for they soon became very talkative, and my chum very easily conglomerated their bewildered senses by his expertness. One of the salt cellars from the table, he apparently swallowed, somewhat, of the cut edges hurting this throat, but offered to swallow any other moderately sized article with a smoother surface if they would offer it. The young fellows had been preparing for their voyage, accordingly one produced a cake of Windsor soap, another a bottle of Cheltenham Salts.† Both of which followed the salt cellar: ‘not heeding consequences!’ Weary as I was, I could not help laughing at the utter astonishment of the dupes; Hambly next offered if any one had a half crown in his pocket, he would show the reflection of it from the ceiling, with the king’s head downwards. The coin was soon produced, and very soon after was sticking to the ceiling, as promised, to the confusion of the owner, and to the great delight of the waiter, who was watching the proceedings. This man was very attentive to my breakfast next morning, and expressed a fervent hope that my friend would come every evening, for he was the most clever gentleman ever seen, and it was very kind of the gentleman not to conjure the half crown down again, for he had himself taken care of that before he went to bed.

The most ludicrous part of the exhibition next ensued. With the flow of language indispensably requisite with legerdemain,* Hambly complained very much of the uneasiness of his stomach, and expressing his fears that the glass salt cellar would come up, begged the excuses of the company if he should be obliged to disgorge it. The apology was readily assented to, for every one expressed an earnest desire to see it again, that they might be convinced that it had been down. Consequently after much groaning, and many contortions and distortions, the salt cellar was seen half way out of his capacious mouth, and was replaced on the table. All gazed with astonishment, but no one would defile his fingers by touching it! While their attention was thus engaged a sudden noise brought the bottle of salts again to sight. In course of time and after much palaver, the cake of soap reappeared.

Hambly offered each article to their respective owners but no! Neither would touch an article which had been into a man’s paunch!! Consequently, at the close of the evening, I, as an invalid, received the bottle of salts as my share of the proceeds of the performance, and Hambly retained the soap to assist him in scraping off his black beard.

His next trick was new to me, for I had never seen him perform it before. He bit a good-sized piece out of a wine glass, and to appearance, ground it with his teeth into an impalpable white powder. This, I afterwards found out, was a piece of tobacco pipe which he had dexterously substituted for the piece of glass. The trick however succeeded to the admiration of all the party. But one young fellow, who was decidedly the worse for his potations, would, in spite of our remonstrance’s, attempt the performance of this trick himself, and bit the glass so unguardedly, that he cut his lips and face most lamentably. Beyond all doubt he bitterly repented his folly next morning. This bloody circumstance broke up the party.

The following day, through Hambly’s assistance, I ensconced myself in very comfortable lodgings, in Belle Vue Terrace, Southsea, facing the Queen’s Bastion. The upper storey was occupied by Major Dickinson of the Marines,† who had come from Plymouth with his bride to spend the honeymoon. I sent a note up to him requesting permission for the private marine who waited on him to clean my accoutrements. This was granted and after a few days I found the major’s card on my table. I duly returned the compliment, and the first evening that I was invited to take tea with them, I found the bride’s youngest sister and bridesmaid, was of the party which was increased by the arrival of Lieutenant Foot,‡ Flag Lieutenant to the Port Admiral, and his wife who was another sister.

Foot was a frank, open-hearted, merry Jack Tar, ‘full of life and full of glee.’ When I alluded to having been in the West Suffolk Militia, Foot enquired if I knew Lieutenant Patrick* and his wife. I replied, ‘Indeed I do, for I am happy to say I was most intimate with them, and spent most of my evenings at their lodgings!’ At which declaration, Foot surprised me by exclaiming

‘Holla, avast young fellow! I have found you out, Oh, ho! You are an old flirt of my sister’s, Mary Patrick!!! Can Poll talk as fast as ever?’

I answered ‘Not quite so fast as her brother!’ At this he gave my hand a grip from which it did not fast recover.

‘Aye, yea!’ He replied, ‘I find that my sister Polly has taught you some of her pertness! Now then,’ he continued, ‘that I know all about you young chap, I will give you some good advice. You see that little fire frigate on the other side of the room,’ pointing to his young sister-in-law, ‘she has twice been bride’s maid, to my wife, and to Dickinson’s, and is now keeping a sharp look out for her own promotion. I see she is preparing all her sails to bear down on you. And if you do not keep your weather eye up, she will carry you into Port Matrimony before you know your bearings!!’ The jocose sally produced a hearty laugh from all the party, and a lusty box on the starboard bows of the rattling lieutenant from the lively and lovely bridesmaid. I enjoyed many pleasant evenings with this merry company.

Hambly introduced me to his sister Mrs Twincham and her husband and they introduced me to the family of the Comptroller of Customs, Mr Williams, a very find handsome man, and his wife was also very handsome. Their family were very engaging particularly the second daughter, about twenty years of age, with flaxen hair, bright blue eyes, a beautiful complexion, an amiable and lovely countenance, and most prepossessing manners. In fact I verily believe that had I been long stationed there, I should, like Corporal Trim,† have fallen souse‡ over head and ears in love! Thus a fortnight passed very quickly and very pleasantly.

Finally, the moment to sail had come.

6 November

The troops were embarked, before I was aware and Hambly engaged a berth for me, on board the ship John, with himself. Accordingly I sent my sea stock on board the next day.

8 November

I met my friend Lieutenant Vander§ who, when he had heard of my plan, exclaimed ‘That will not do! You will lose all the benefit gained by living quietly in lodgings. There are seven commissary clerks on board the John, whom Hambly will keep playing cards all night, and worry you into another illness! You shall go in the Isabella with me, there is only Lieutenant Cobbold of the Dragoons,* a very gentlemanly pleasant fellow. Come with me to the Transport Office. I know the old Comptroller, and will persuade him to transfer you to my ship.’

After much persuasion the sturdy weather beaten tar granted our request. Fortunately we were enabled to arrange about my sea stock sent on board for just as we regained the High Street we met Hambly who reimbursed me. By Vander’s assistance I very soon prepared another and more frugal stock, and sent it to the Blue Posts Hotel,† at the Point, where Hambly and I had engaged beds for the night, that we might embark early the next morning.

I was well pleased with this new arrangement for I found Hambly’s unceasing flow of spirits was at times very overpowering! We very wisely engaged a boat’s crew to call us, and to take us on board for Sunday November 9th. We were awakened before daylight by a violent knocking at the house door, and before we could half dress ourselves, the waiter in great haste came into the room to say the commodore had fired his signal gun and hoisted the Blue Peter! Under these circumstances not a moment could be lost. We swallowed a hasty breakfast while the men were taking our luggage to the boat, then hurried off.

As we passed out of the harbour we beheld the whole of the fleet under way, and, apparently leaving us behind, which made me regret very much that I did not go on board the day before with my friend Vander instead of spending the evening with Mrs Twincham to console her on the departure of her husband, appointed Purser to the Magicienne,‡ our commodore’s ship, a beautiful new frigate, and this her first voyage. My anxiety not to lose my passage convinced me of the risk officers run by lingering on shore to the last minute and resolved in my own mind to profit by the present experience, should the chances of war allow me to see another embarkation. Thus, on reaching Lisbon, I was not surprised to find both our Captains, Gray and Watkins, had not arrived. At the same time there were strong grounds for suspecting they had purposely stayed behind! If such was the fact, the plan did not answer their purpose. For Colonel Hutchinson on being informed of the circumstances, determined to follow up his resolution as expressed to me in the Barrack Square at Chelmsford and lost no time in making his report to the War Office. In consequence of which the two renowned sculkers were ordered to remain at Hilsea, until another opportunity offered for them to embark.

The morning was very fine, the bright sun enlivened the animating scene, and as the wind was light, we rapidly gained on the fleet, which dispelled my fears and raised my spirits so that I was able fully to enjoy the very imposing sight which amply repaid me for my past anxiety. The whole channel between the Hampshire coast and the Isle of Wight was covered with canvas, every vessel being under full sail, all bound to the same port conveying so many hundreds of Britain’s hardy sons, eager to fight for their country’s glory!!!

Beyond the middle of the fleet we came up with the Isabella, and the John, not far distant to windward. I was heartily rejoiced to get on board and to receive the congratulations of my friend and his companions.

Vander having returned from Portugal with the skeleton of the 2nd Battalion after the fatal battle of Albuera,* was quite an old sailor, well versed in all that was going forward, and kept up the interest of the scene by imparting a great deal of information. He possesses a book of signals by which he explained the one made by the part or our convoy in the van, the Niemen frigate† and the Columbine, Brig of War‡ ‘Lay to for the Commodore!’

Soon afterwards we saw the Magicienne coming up with every sail set and swelling with the breeze.

She passed not far from us, in most beautiful and gallant state, towering over us, as a lofty steeple over the nave of a church, making our brig the Isabella and all the other transports look like cockboats attending her sovereign will! It may be truly said, ‘that an English man-of-war under full sail is one of the grandest sights in the world!!’ The delay however proved unfortunate for us, by enabling a boat to reach us, which, but for that, could not have come up with the ship. Vander was on the sharp look, and exclaimed ‘I am sorry to say there is a boat making for this vessel with a grim shabby looking old chap in a brown great coat, and confound the old curmudgeon! I declare he has no sea stock with him!! How shall we manage this business my friends? For as the old soldiers say on service, a joke is a joke, but keep your hand out of my haversack these hard times!’

We agreed that there was no alternative but to admit him to share with us. When he came on board, we were glad to find his address was more gentlemanly than his dress! And that he was Dr Rice, a Staff Surgeon§ of long standing. He very handsomely apologised for not having any sea stock, and assured us that he did not receive his order for embarkation until Friday, and reached Portsmouth so late on Saturday, that he had not time to do more than obtain his order for a ship.

We passed the Needles in fine order about 4 p.m. with a fine and favourable wind, after which we went to dinner but only the doctor and myself could sit it out.

At night I found my bed excessively hard. The tow of which my mattress was made [was] so scanty that it had become two knots in hard earnest. The next day I made a friend of the Mate who had exchanged it for me and lent an additional one. We were now out at sea, with a brisker wind which convinced us that our vessel lived best in a fresh breeze. No small consolation this, in the month of November! The master explained this circumstance by informing us that a ship is coppered for three years service, but his had been seven as a transport and her owners apprehending that she would be paid off ere long were unwilling to spend their money about repairs.

As nothing but a distant view of the Isle of Ushant on the French coast occurred for some days I will fill up the tediousness of a sea voyage with a brief sketch of the extraordinary life of my brother officer Hambly, whom I have already so often mentioned and of whom I shall have much to say hereafter.

His father was a merchant at Truro, in Cornwall, and more than once Mayor of that borough.* According with the spirit of the time, he made some rash ventures, and the French ouvriers took off his cargoes, whereby his prospects were ruined. He then went to Gibraltar, and opened a store or warehouse.

My companion obtained a commission in the Cornwall Militia from which he volunteered as lieutenant of the 23 rd Fusiliers, taking with him his quota of men, which would entitle him to retain the same rank in the line, according to the regulation then in force. Every officer was obliged under such circumstances to give each man an additional bounty to accompany them, and thus Hambly† expended nearly a hundred pounds. He had a very long march to perform with his men, to join the depot of the Fusiliers at Colchester. When he arrived near London, he learned with vexation and dismay, that another regulation had been issued and that no more officers would be allowed to retain their rank. Full of indignation he hastened to the War Office, and from what he stated to me I am inclined to think, demeaned himself more according to the justice of his claim, than the peculiarity of the case. However this may have been he was so dissatisfied with the reception he had experienced, that he returned to the detachment, rashly gave over the charge to a sergeant, sent his commission back to his old commanding officer, and embarked for Gibraltar.

He was soon weary of an idle life, and being well versed in the Spanish language, accepted an appointment as lieutenant colonel of a corps of patriots up the Mediterranean. There he remained nearly a year and half, but disgusted with the service, where the men were so badly fed, worse clothed, and still worse paid, he again returned to Gibraltar. His next essay was to join Lord Wellington’s army as a volunteer, was attached to, and carried his musket in the very regiment, the 23rd, in which, but for his rashness, he might most probably [have ] been a lieutenant of some standing. Here he encountered much privation and hardship, but after the battle of Albuera obtained an ensigncy in the 48th Regiment, one of the eleven then appointed at Northampton a few days after I had joined the 2nd Battalion. But there was too great a dissimilarity to admit of our being very intimate.

Hambly was senior in years to most of the officers present, but was nevertheless boon companion with all the youngsters, and accompanied them by day and by night in all their wild pranks. One evening when thus engaged, Hambly was collared by a footman, whom he knocked down, and then escaped. The man’s master was wealthy and independent, a