CHAPTER XXII.

I CONTINUE TO PLAY THE GAOLER.

After a short halt at Portalegre Prince Pierre returned to his regiment, and we continued our route to Lisbon. On arriving at Abrantes Prince Prosper was splendidly entertained by Colonel Buchan, who commanded there. The roads being here impassable for a carriage, that in which the prince travelled was left behind; and we proceeded in a comfortable boat down the Tagus to Lisbon, where we safely arrived.

The orders which I received immediately on my arrival were that the prince should never leave the Duke de Cadoval’s palace, in which we were lodged, except in my company; and I was never to go out with him in other than my scarlet uniform. These orders came direct from the Duke of Wellington. The strictness with which I was directed to attend so particularly upon the prince did not arise from any want of confidence in his parole; it was the better to protect him, for such was the state of public ferment at the time in Lisbon that nothing but British protection could save him from public and most probably serious insult and outrage. This state of general excitement was caused by reports in the Spanish papers, as also by the assertions of many Spaniards then in Lisbon, that when Ballesteros was defeated by the French at Ayamonte, the prince, who served there with his regiment of cavalry, cut many hundred Spaniards to pieces who were unarmed and who never carried arms in their lives. At his own particular request I showed him the Spanish gazettes in which his alleged cruelty was most severely reprobated. On perusing the papers he remarked with a laugh, “How stupid these Spaniards in thinking that by thus abusing me they do me injury! The fools are not aware that the more they accuse me of cruelty the stronger will be the conviction in the breast of the emperor that I did my duty zealously.” I merely asked if the emperor _required_ such mode of performing duty. A momentary reserve ensued; it was but of short duration. In truth, from the commencement of our acquaintance to our parting we lived on the most friendly and intimate terms, and seemed more like two intimate young gentlemen of equal rank than simple Mr. and a Serene Highness.

[Sidenote: ON NAPOLEON’S IDEA OF ZEAL.]

The prince was entertained by all the British authorities in Lisbon. On one occasion he was invited to dine with Major-General Sir James Leith, but I was not included in the invitation. The prince would rather have declined, but I persuaded him to go, and accompanied him to Sir James’s house. Asking for an aide-de-camp, I gave the prince to his care, telling him that I expected that he would not return except accompanied by an officer; I then immediately retired. I was very happy at having this opportunity of going out to see some old friends; I had many, having been twice previously in Lisbon. On my return, which was rather late, I found the aide-de-camp asleep on the sofa, and the prince sitting by his side laughing. On awakening he told me that he received Sir James Leith’s positive injunctions not to quit the prince until my return home; and he gave me a very polite message from the general, stating his regret that he was unacquainted with the mutual obligation that existed between the prince and me or he would certainly have invited me to dine. Sir James called next day, and repeated what the aide-de-camp had previously said. A nearly similar occurrence took place the second time we dined with Marshal Beresford.

[Sidenote: SAD END OF A MOUSTACHE.]

These invitations were highly honourable to me; but it was complete servitude, and made me as much a prisoner as the prince, with the additional weight of responsibility. The strict obligation of always accompanying the prince in my uniform interfered with many amusements. In going to the theatres he was instantly recognised and rudely stared at; and even had we risked going in plain clothes, contrary to our instructions, there still remained an obstacle. The prince wore mustachios, by which he would be immediately known, and with these he was very unwilling to part. I told him that if he shaved them off, I should run all hazard and accompany him in plain clothes in some of our nocturnal rambles. After urgent expostulations on my part and profound sighs on his, he consented to have them removed. He sat down before a mirror, determined, despite of cavalry pride, to cut down the long, long cherished bristly curls of war. His hand trembled. He shrank from the first touch of the razor, yet he bore the amputation of the right wing with tolerable fortitude; then, turning to me with a deep sigh, he held up the amputated member clotted with lethal soap. He looked mournful and pale; but however I may have commiserated his grief, for the life of me I could not refrain from laughing aloud at the appearance of his face with one mustachio only, which, deprived of its old companion, appeared double its former length. I requested him to give the hanger-on no quarter, but instantly to cut him down; the operation soon followed. The mustachios were washed, cleaned and dried, then carefully wrapped up in silver paper and forwarded with a pathetic letter to the duchess, his wife. The prince declared that he never again would act the soldier either for Napoleon or any other. This determination arose entirely from his being tired of the army, not from cutting off the mustachios, which act bore no analogy to the story of Delilah; and although I was instrumental in cutting off the hairs of war if not of strength, he never found in me a Philistine. A tailor was now sent for to make him a brown-coated gentleman.

We now felt no obstacle to our enjoyment of many amusements from which we previously were debarred. For such was the metamorphosis from the splendid cavalry uniform, highly decorated breast, blackened and curled whiskers and mustachios and the fierce _tout-ensemble_ to the simple brown coat and the plain civic face, that had I not been present at the barbarous deed, I scarcely could have believed him to be the same person; and such was my reliance on his word that I felt no hesitation about his going out, even alone.

The prince entertained very liberally whilst in Lisbon; when he was not dining out, there were twelve covers at his table for the officers, his fellow prisoners, who were invited in rotation. One officer alone, a lieutenant of artillery, was never invited. It was alleged that when we attacked on the morning of the action, this unfortunate young man, who commanded the artillery, had no matches lit, and that had he been prepared we must have lost more men in killed and wounded while filing through the town; in consequence, he was cut by every French officer in Lisbon. I felt much for him, and mentioned to the prince that where they were all alike unfortunate, it appeared invidious to single out one for neglect; for whatever his fault might have been, it could not have had the slightest effect in changing the result of the action. The prince, although a stern soldier, somewhat relented; but there was such a person as Napoleon to be taken into consideration. However, he mentioned the circumstance to General Le Brun, expressing an inclination to become reconciled to the artillery officer. Le Brun would not listen to it, alleging that it would be setting a dangerous example to look over or in any way countenance gross neglect of duty, at the same time casting a scowling look at me, knowing that it was I who spoke to the prince on the subject. Annoyed at his obduracy and a little nettled by his indignant look, I asked him if he did not think that, had there been mounted patrols on the look-out to give alarm in proper time, the artillery officer, thus warned, would have had his guns in battle array; instead of which, we came absolutely into the town without encountering a single French dragoon. The general treated my observation with haughty silence; but the French adjutant-general, also a prisoner, being present, darted a fiery glance at Le Brun, and would no doubt have applied his censure of the artillery officer to himself, had he not been restrained out of consideration for the prince, who was second in command of the cavalry. Le Brun was disliked by all from his haughty and overbearing manner. When after the action the officers made prisoners were required to sign their parole, Le Brun refused, saying that the word of a general of the French was sufficient. Our quartermaster-general, Colonel Offley, a gallant and determined soldier, a German by birth, soon settled the affair in a summary way by giving orders that if the general refused to sign his parole, he was to be marched with the bulk of the prisoners. This order cooled the general’s hauteur: he subscribed.

[Sidenote: FROM LISBON TO ENGLAND IN TWO HOURS.]

On one occasion, when a large party of French officers dined with us, the prince asked me to what town in England I thought it likely he would be sent as prisoner of war. This I could not possibly answer. He then asked which I considered the second town in England. I said that from a commercial point of view we generally ranked Liverpool next to London; but as places of fashionable resort Brighton, Bath and Cheltenham ranked much alike. I inadvertently asked him which he considered the second town in France. “Rome,” said he, “ranks the second and Amsterdam the third.” I remarked that then we had no longer an Italy or a Holland. “Yes,” replied the prince, “we have both; but by a late edict of the Emperor those two towns are annexed to France, but it is not the policy of England to recognise it.” I made a low bow. In compliment to me, I suppose, the prince changed the topic immediately, saying that he dreaded a ship so much that he would sooner fight the battles of Talavera and Albuera over again than undertake so long a voyage as that to England. I told him to quiet himself on that head, for he might get to England in two hours. The whole company stared, but particularly Le Brun, who was always a standing dish at the prince’s table. Speculation ran high. A balloon was generally suggested, but the velocity even of this was doubted. I denied the agency of a balloon, and maintained that it was to be accomplished by wind and water solely. As I still withheld an explanation, the prince got off his chair, and flinging away his little foraging cap said, “If you do not tell us I shall give you a kiss, and I know that you would sooner get a slap on the face than be kissed by a man.” On his advancing towards me, I requested that he would sit down and I would give him an explanation which I felt persuaded would convince all present that my assertion was perfectly correct. At this a general laugh followed. The prince being re-seated, I addressed him thus: “In less than two hours after you leave the quay, you will have got rid of all the boats which impede your passage down the Tagus, and immediately after you will steer clear of Fort St. Julian at the influx of the river. You are then at sea and arrived; for by an _old_ edict, recognised by every sovereign in Europe, ‘All the seas are England.’” The whole company endeavoured, although awkwardly, to force a laugh, except Le Brun, whose scowling frown indicated his chagrin, and I fancied that I distinguished the word _bêtise_ muttered between his teeth. I longed for an opportunity of paying him off; it soon occurred.

[Sidenote: UN GROS CANARD.]

Le Brun called next morning, as usual big with nothing. Perceiving that he wished to be alone with the prince, I retired to the next room. Soon after the prince requested me to come back. He was much excited, and flinging his cap on the floor, “Only think,” said he, “what the general has been telling me as an undoubted fact. Some rascally Portuguese has persuaded him to believe that above a hundred sail of French line of battleships have appeared before Cadiz; that the British squadron, stationed there, were compelled to fly; that the fortress must immediately surrender, and consequently all Spain must soon be in our possession. In the first place,” added the prince, “all the navy of France do not amount to the number which the general says are before Cadiz, without taking into consideration the utter impossibility of their being enabled to form such a junction unmolested in the face of the British navy. If a corporal of my regiment told me such a story, believing it, I should turn him into the ranks.” At this remark the general became highly indignant, and the prince’s excitement much increased. To restore tranquillity I asked the general about the appearance of the person who gave him the important information; and nodding assent to his description, I exclaimed, “The very man who spoke to me this morning.” “There,” said the general, happy to have anything like corroboration; “and what did he tell you?” I looked round with much apparent precaution, and after anxious pressing on his part and affected hesitation on mine, I got quite close to the prince and the general, who took a chair. I then in a low tone of voice, our three heads nearly touching, said: “When I came to Lisbon this same Portuguese was pointed out to me as a person who always possessed much information, but sold it dearly.” All this time the prince was staring at me, knowing that I bore no great affection for the general. “But,” said the general, “what information did he give you?” “He told me that he knew to a certainty, from a source which could not be doubted--I think you said one hundred?” “Yes,” replied Le Brun, “one hundred sail of the line.” “He told me,” I resumed, “that there were two hundred thousand British troops absolutely on the boulevards of Paris, but not a single soul could tell whence they came. I gave my informant six gros sous: how much did you give, mon général?” At this the prince absolutely became convulsed with laughter. The general darted from his chair, snatched up his hat, and turning his head half round gave us the most ungracious _bonjour_ that I ever heard escape the lips of a Frenchman, and then strode out of the room. Scarcely had he left when the prince ran forward and absolutely embraced me, saying that I had done him the greatest favour which I could possibly confer, as he felt sure the general would torment him no more. He was right; Le Brun never again called.

[Sidenote: _CANARD AUX BOTTES._]

About this time a very laughable scene took place in Lisbon. An announcement was published in the papers that an English officer would walk across the Tagus with cork boots. At the hour specified the concourse was immense; twenty thousand persons at least were collected at Belem, the place indicated. Every boat on the Tagus and every vehicle in the town, of whatever description, was hired for several days previously. A Portuguese guard were posted to keep the cork-boot platform clear, and a military band attended; it was in fact a magnificent pageant. At length the hour of execution arrived, but no cork boots; hour after hour passed, but still the principal actor was wanting. The spectators, wearied by fruitless expectation, began to retire; and here the ingenuity of the hoax was displayed--for when some thousands had moved off, a sudden rush was made towards the platform. Those who retired instantly returned, but only to be disappointed. This ruse, strange to be said, repeatedly succeeded; back came the crowd, but the great Earl of Cork never came forth. At length and after dark all retired in the worst possible temper; many did not reach their homes until after midnight, although Belem was not more than five miles from Lisbon, such was the throng both on the Tagus and along the roads. Next day all Lisbon was in uproar at being thus insulted by the English, who denied all knowledge of the affair; and in reply to a remonstrance made by the Portuguese Government on the subject to the English authorities, it was asked rather acrimoniously how such an absurd article had been permitted to appear in the public prints when the censorship of the press was entirely in the hands of the Portuguese Government. This was rather a poser, and the affair died away in languid laughter.

The time having arrived for the prince’s departure for England, Captain Percy, in whose ship he was to proceed, mentioned to me that he had some hope of procuring an exchange between the prince and his father, Lord Beverley, who was detained in France; requesting also that I would ascertain from the prince what he wished put on board for his little comforts. The prince in reply commissioned me to tell Captain Percy that as to the exchange he felt fully persuaded that Napoleon, although the uncle of his wife the duchess, would never consent to the exchange; that as to his comforts on board he felt extremely obliged to Captain Percy for his polite and kind attention, and the only thing he requested was a little old rum. I delivered his message, but told him that it was scarcely necessary, for there was always sufficient rum on board a man-of-war. On parting, he told me that whenever I should come to Brussels I should have no formal invitation to his father’s palace; I should live there and invite whom I pleased, for I must consider myself as a master in the house. How I treated him while we lived together as prisoner and guard may be seen in a letter which I had the honour of receiving some years afterwards from his late Royal Highness the Duke of Kent.

It was at my option to accompany the prince to England; I was strongly recommended to do so, and the prince warmly urged me to the same effect. The bait was tempting; but although better success would undoubtedly have attended a campaign in the luxurious Green Park, surrounded by magnificent mansions, traversed by splendid equipages, studded with groups of noble courtiers and glittering flatterers, yet I preferred the uncompromising discharge of my duty and the wild scenery and extensive plains of Spain, in company with my gallant companions of the war, whose hearts were open as the boundless tracts they traversed, their friendship fervid as the genial sun which glowed over their heads, and their sincerity pure and unsullied as the mountain breezes they inhaled. All this was good enough for me.