Transcriber’s Note:
Text on cover added by Transcriber and placed in the Public Domain.
A BOY IN THE PENINSULAR WAR
A BOY IN THE PENINSULAR WAR
THE SERVICES, ADVENTURES, AND EXPERIENCES
OF
ROBERT BLAKENEY
SUBALTERN IN THE 28TH REGIMENT
AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY
EDITED BY
JULIAN STURGIS
AUTHOR OF “JOHN A DREAMS,” “COMEDY OF A COUNTRY HOUSE,” ETC.
WITH A MAP
Second Impression
LONDON
JOHN MURRAY, ALBEMARLE STREET
1899
TO HIS WIFE
THE EDITOR DEDICATES THESE MEMOIRS OF HER
MOTHER’S FATHER,
FOR WHOSE ACQUAINTANCE HE IS GLAD TO
OWN YET ONE MORE DEBT OF
GRATITUDE TO HER.
vii
INTRODUCTION.
Othello, confessing that he cannot grace his causewith studied eloquence, pleads that at the tender ageof seven years he gave himself to the grim labours of thetented field. Compared with this dark heroic babe, youngBlakeney, joining the 28th Regiment as a boy of fifteen,must seem a hardy veteran. Yet he too pleads, as excusefor lack of style in the Memoirs which he left behind him,that soldiering and fighting began so early in his lifeas to leave scant time for acquisition of the literary airsand graces. And in the same apologetic vein he says thathe wrote his Memoirs in an island where were no librariesand no books of reference in which he might verify thedates and facts of his plain unvarnished tale.
It may be that to some more literary penman the idea ofwriting memoirs in the Island of Zante, one of those Grecianisles which toward sunset show form so delicate and colourso exquisite that one would think them rather thekingdom of Oberon than the haunt of a retired warriorof the Peninsula—to sit at ease in that enchanted airand summon from the past the gallant deeds of heroesand the kind looks of friends—may seem no despicablerecompense for the sad want of all the books of reference.
With groaning shelves and ponderous catalogues in easyreach, conscience makes cowards of us poor followers ofviiiliterature; we are chilled in mid career, and our happyfreedom of statement is checked by intrusive doubt of thedate of this battle or of the name of that general. Eventhe irresponsible purveyor of fiction must tramp thestreet or fly on the handy bicycle, to make sure that hehas not plunged his hero into the midst of a revolutiontwo years before it took place, or shown his tender heroinein tears over the song of an eminent composer ere yetthe moving song-writer was breeched.
How deep was the regret which the author of theseMemoirs felt for the premature end of his lessons andfor the want of invaluable books of reference, I am unableto say; but I have ventured to suppress his brief prefaceof apology because frankly I claim for him not pardonnor tolerance, but gratitude and even affection.
As in that island of dreams he recalled his stirringboyhood, his friendships formed and joyous under theshadow of death, his zeal and admiration for the greatleaders under whom he served, his personal adventuresand