It’s easy to forget that research rabbit-holes are not unique to the Internet-age. They’re easier to fall in on Wikipedia, or on YouTube, or elsewhere on the Internet, it’s true, but they aren’t the only ones to fall down.

I’m currently running around a warren of civilian and military autobiographies, diaries, letter-collections, despatches, biographies, histories, and those are just the ones I already have. I have a list of plenty of others to work my way through.

Some, I’ve resisted buying (for the moment): Project Gutenberg has been very helpful in providing various autobiographies and memoirs. But I still foresee quite a collection of early-nineteenth century books gathering in my library. Probably eighteenth century ones too. I’d forgotten how much I liked this period of history. It doesn’t help that An Infamous Army comes with a Short Bibliography of several pages to give me more books to investigate and read. The Spanish Bride contents itself with merely an Author’s Note of the more useful resources, most of which appear in the Short Bibliography. And, of course, since nearly ninety years have elapsed since Heyer did her research, more has been written and published on the Peninsula and Waterloo campaigns.

Like I said: in a rabbit warren of research.

Most of it probably won’t be useful to my dissertation, but never mind. It’s interesting and keeping me occupied. It’s also reminding me of how much this period fascinates me.

So far, my journey through the warren has take in:

Harry Smith’s autobiography (and I appreciate the occasional passages from Juana Smith to give an account of her time when they were separated);
Lady De Lancey’s account of her week nursing her dying husband after Waterloo;
The Creevey Papers, a collection of letters and journals to and by Thomas Creevey MP, who was present in Brussels in 1815;
John Kincaid’s Adventures of a Rifleman;
Rifleman George Simmons’ letters and journals;
Private Costello’s autobiography;
William Thackeray’s Vanity Fair (at least the Waterloo chapters);
Harriette Wilson’s Memoirs (the courtesan whose attempt at blackmailing Wellington produced the “Publish and be damned!” response from the Duke. She published, and was damned).

Ahead of me, I have a more modern military biography of Wellington, Bernard Cornwell’s account of Waterloo (non-fiction, not Sharpe’s Waterloo, although that, too, is on my list to read), and Gleig’s Personal Reminiscences of the First Duke of Wellington already lined up, to be followed by Madame D’Arblay’s Letters and Diaries, and Lt Col Napier’s History of the war in the Peninsula and the south of France from 1807 to 1814 (all six volumes: thank you, Project Gutenberg!). And probably as many of the other books from that Short Bibliography as I can gather.