To those officers who happened to have been on sick leave at Belem, near Lisbon, in 1810 and 11, General P****** must “of a verity” be well known: few, indeed, could have sojourned many days in that invalid retirement, without having observed the stooped shoulder, topped by the shallow cocked-hat, and covered with the eternal blue frock-coat, stealing along close to the wall upon a tall English horse. Who of those have not been haunted by the said phantom, at some time or other, if perchance in order to relax the dreary and monotonous hours of a sick chamber, they dared to meet on the road to enjoy a little cheerful conversation? Terrible, indeed, was this evening apparition—this warning spirit, who like the death fetch came to fetch the sick away! No tom cat ever paid more determined attention to mouse-catching pastime, than did the General to his favourite pleasure of pouncing upon the invalid officer, who but dared to show himself out of his melancholy quarters. He conceived that no man could possibly be sick, who was able to move his legs; and if a half dead officer could but smoke a cigar, or twist the corners of his mouth into a smile, the whole medical staff could not have persuaded the General out of his opinion, that such a person was not only in excellent health, but fit to brave the rudest weather, and the severest duties of the field.

It cannot be denied that, even among the officers of the peninsular army, there have been “skulkers”—men who, in order to avoid the necessary fatigues of a campaign, have “shammed” sickness, or having been really ill, contrived to obtain sick leave for a long time after they had recovered; but such instances, highly to the credit of “the cloth,” were very rare indeed.

Belem was the place appointed for sick officers, and General P******, no doubt in his zeal for the service, conceived that most of the residents there were (in his own phraseology) “humbugging;” he therefore, in addition to his proper duties, took upon himself those of the staff surgeons, and left no experiment untried for the cure of the malady which he believed epidemically to rage at Belem, namely, the Idle Disease or Lazy Fever. The treatment which he principally adopted was of the stimulating description; but, alas! his method of cure obtained no favour for him in the eyes of his patients.

It was common among those sick officers at Belem, whenever any of them in their walks happened to be so unlucky as to have met the General, to go home and make instant preparations for joining, whether capable of doing duty or not; for their names were sure to be in the garrison orders of the following day, for marching.

This system of espionnage was very naturally looked upon as cruel and insulting in the extreme; it rouzed the indignant feelings of all the officers against the General; but for obvious reasons they could not resent his proceedings in any other way than by demonstrations of contempt. One, however, a convalescent Lieutenant, who had “Done the state some service,”
happened to have fallen within the General’s evening eye: he was, in fact, as the phrase is, dogged a mile out of the town, and next day popped into orders for “joining forthwith,” although still very weak, and a man “—— Who never turned his back
On duty or the foe.”

The Lieutenant prepared to obey, and the day previous to his departure, in riding through Lisbon, whither he had gone to purchase some articles necessary for his march, accompanied by a brother officer, he met General P. in one of the main streets, attended by his orderly dragoon—one of the Portuguese police. The Lieutenant, on perceiving him, allowed his friend to ride on, while he pulled up a little, so as to come very slowly in front of the General. As soon as he breasted him, he stopped—affected an animated smile of recognition—took off his hat in a most respectful manner—held out his hand to the General, which was duly received; and, still smiling, griped his fingers as fast as if they were fixed in a vice, while he thus emphatically addressed him:—“Sir, an officer who has served in seven actions, and who has been thrice wounded, has the pleasure of telling you that you are a most contemptible spy, and a disgrace to the commission you hold. You are fit for no command unless it be in the police. Good morning, mouchard.” The General instantly called to the orderly dragoon;—“Listen to this officer,” said he; “Mark him, Sir—mark his words, Sir.” Then calling after the officer—who trotted off bowing politely—“Come back here, Sir—Mr.—— I say—do you hear, Sir?” he almost gasped with passion; but the Lieutenant was gone, and the General left with his orderly, who looked as apathetically as the statue in St. James’s square.

The Lieutenant went home, but was not permitted to march so soon as he expected: for he was placed in arrest, and his conduct submitted to the investigation of a court of inquiry, upon charges of mutinous conduct highly unbecoming the character of an officer and a gentleman, &c. &c., preferred against him by General P******.

The Court was composed of the highest officers in Lisbon, and on the awful day of inquiry, the General minutely detailed before it, the circumstance of which he had to complain. The Lieutenant, with an air of the utmost confidence totally denied the charges, and insinuated that the General must have laboured under some aberration of mind, or else had mistaken him for another person. The only witness of the transaction (the Portuguese dragoon) was called, who answered by an interpreter. His evidence was conclusive against the General: for, on being asked by the Court to describe what he had seen, he said that the Lieutenant met the General in the street—took off his hat most politely—that the parties shook hands cordially—that in a few moments they parted, the Lieutenant bowing, with his hat off, most respectfully:—and that then the General talked a good deal to himself.

“But, Sir,” demanded the complainant petulantly, through the interpreter, “what did the Lieutenant say?” To which the evidence answered with a Portuguese shrug—“that he did not understand a word of English, but that he supposed the Lieutenant to have been enquiring after the state of the General’s health!”

Further evidence in favour of the officer than the prosecutor’s own witness was needless—the Lieutenant was released from his arrest, and the General obliged to “pocket the affront.”