Alicia Cockburn   Women and War

An Excerpt from a letter written by Alicia Cockburn An upper class British lady, wife of a senior officer serving in Upper Canada, Alicia Cockburn writes of 1814 life in Montreal in a letter to her cousin Charles. EDITOR'S NOTE: The following has been copied directly from original writings, all spelling and punctuation appears as therein.   Montreal June 28th, 1814 My dear Charles, I am constantly disappointed on opening my Mother's pacquettes at not finding a letter from you, and although it is perhaps unreasonable to expect it, when your time is occupied by so much more important avocations, still I am selfish enough to repine at never hearing from you. I am at present meditating a Journey to Upper Canada, and even a trip into the United States in a Flag of Truce, which to do the Yankees justice they treat with uncommon civility especially when born by Ladies, whom they allow to go much farther, and peep about much more, than we should do in a similar case, whatever might be their beauty and accomplishments. My Noble Lord marched three days since for his old station Cornwall, where he has the command, & I am going on his special invitation–indeed, since I began this, I have a letter from him dated on the road, desiring me to come up as soon as I can, as the Country is so beautiful that he wishes me to see it, as I was only there in Winter; and that season although equally fine in this part of the World, presents a totally different style of landscape. I am greatly amused by the English papers stating "The roads are become so bad by the recent fall of snow &c"–which in Canada is just the thing that we pray for, and which makes our roads so good. I have no doubt you felt the severity of the season much more than we do here, from the detestable damp of your foggy Island, and the want of Stoves and double Windows to keep the Houses warm,–however you cannot have had the Thermometer 25 below nothing, as we constantly have it here, or the cutting cold which can only be felt to form an idea of. The Summer is very fine, and not so overpowering from heat as last year, but it is hot enough, and will be considerably more so, as it is always some degrees hotter than the West Indies, without the evening breezes you get there. I am so beautifully brown, and my hair grown so dark, that I propose sitting for my picture in the character of an Indian Princess without more delay. We are expecting an attack hereabouts. It is something like the French invasion; such will be the case here. All is bustle however in the neighbouring Camp – Brigadiers – Grenadiers – & Fuzileers – Right – Left – here – there – march – halt – wheel – double-quick – tumble down – tumble up –fire away – thus they "keep moving" and a most moving scene it is, but I think if I commanded, I would move it a little nearer the enemy. – however there are some worthy people who have the happy knack of discovering danger long before its approach, and wisely determine to take every measure save that of running into it, – they bear in mind the old poem He who fights & runs away, May live to fight another day, But he who is in Battle slain, Will never rise to fight again. Yours sincerely, Alicia