CHAPTER XXIV.

Two months I rusticated in Berkshire, and then, my leave of absence having nearly expired, set off in the beginning of November, taking with me my wife, whose determination not to be again separated, united to an eager curiosity to see Paris, overcame all the difficulties I threw in the way of such a winter campaign, and rendered her deaf to all my representations of hardships and privations which she would inevitably have to bear and put up with. My journal of this second residence was hurried, meagre, and very irregularly kept. She kept likewise a few memoranda, so that from the two, and what memory and collating will supply, I am enabled to complete this journal to the return of my troop to Canterbury in February 1816.

_Sunday, November 5th._--Slept at the York Hotel last night, and embarked this morning on board the packet for Calais--forget her name--Captain Keys. All bustle and confusion when we went on board. Deck encumbered with a carriage and heaps of baggage, amongst which the complete, well-appointed baggage of Hamilton Hamilton, Esq., secretary of legation, or some such thing, was most conspicuous. In time carriage was stowed and baggage sent below, porters, leave-takers, &c., went ashore, and we quitted the pier. Passengers numerous: H. Hamilton does exclusive, and even betrays impatience and vexation at being shut up with such a _canaille_; then an old gentleman, with a broad-brimmed hat, assumes mighty airs of consequence, and even looks a little contemptuously at Hamilton Hamilton himself, who speaks to none but his _own man_; a Scottish gentleman and his spouse, who makes a terrible sputter about her dear little dog Rose, which is somehow or another left behind at Dover; a mean-looking man in a foraging-cap, a melancholy sergeant of dragoons, and his wife; a Russian dressed in forage-cap and green jacket, like a servant’s morning one, wearing no gloves, and looking for all the world like a _courrier_, but F. insisting that such a white hand decidedly constitutes him a gentleman; besides a crowd, _gentium minorum_, of whom we make no record. As we left, the guns on Dover Castle announced Guy Faux by a royal salute. A fresh breeze and rather dark day--the one operating on the _physique_, the other on the _morale_, made all the passengers except very few exceedingly sick. More than half-way over, our breeze gradually subsided into a calm, and left us bobbing about at a most tantalising distance from our port. To amuse the tedium of the calm, our Russian (by no means a handsome man), who had been ogling F. from the very beginning, managed to pick up a conversation; and in a very short time from ogling began to make love, which, however, was cut short by her getting squeamish, and being obliged to lie down. He then transferred his attentions to me, and I really found him a most gentlemanly, well-informed man, spite of his exterior. After being tantalised for some time looking at Calais without being able to reach it, at length a breeze sprang up and carried us in. Crowds of Sunday people were on the pier, all anxious to see the arrivals. The usual squabble about baggage and forcing through the surrounding multitude took place, and we went to Quillacq’s Hotel without the baggage--which, after all, was detained on board until it could be inspected at the custom-house on Monday morning, a most inconvenient arrangement, as we found ourselves without an article except what we stood in--a great rambling house, with large dreary (at this season of the year) rooms and long corridors. Amused with F.’s surprise at the number of little dishes served up at dinner--all, however, excellent. Obliged to borrow nightcaps of M. and Madame Quillacq.

_6th._--Up at seven in the morning, and went to the custom-house for our baggage. _Douaniers_, a set of insolent scoundrels, gave themselves amazing airs, and tumbled everything out on the floor; particularly severe with Ham. Hamilton’s baggage, who had sent his servant for it. At last I got mine out of their clutches; hired a cabriolet to take us to Paris, where we give it up to the correspondent. Well stuffed and comfortable, with innumerable little pockets. F. amused again with our set out: started at half-past ten A.M., preceded by the little gentleman in the broad-brimmed hat in one _calèche_, and the two Russians in another. At Marquise we passed them. Nothing extraordinary in our drive except Buonaparte’s pillar near Boulogne, and the house he lived in at Pont de Bricq when he visited the army of England. Arrived at M. Mallet, Samer, by half-past four P.M. Found the house comfortable, except that our room smoked somewhat. Girls most merry; gave us an excellent dinner, but so-so wine. Amused ourselves with arrivals and departures. F. looked in vain, however, for her Russian lover--he came not.

But another character of more importance came not: Mr William should have joined us at Dover or Calais; but when at the latter we learned that he remained at Dover waiting for his trunk, which had been left behind in London.

_November 7th._--Sophie gave us an excellent breakfast, after which we set off. Our postilion a character, in the imperial green jacket; and from under his leathern hat, instead of the usual thick queue, flowed a mass of locks unrestrained. His beasts were a couple of long-tailed cart-horses, harnessed principally with rope. The long ascent, after leaving Samer, brought us on the plateau occupied by the dreaded forest--dreaded because we had heard reports of banditti and plundering; but we passed through it without interruption, and soon after saw the ramparts of Montreuil crowning the isolated hill, frowning like an acropolis over the lower town--the whole, standing as it does in a country destitute of the smallest feature of the picturesque, presenting a most sombre and forbidding aspect. Nor did the interior belie its exterior aspect, which we entered by a long, squalid, straggling street, and ascended to the upper town by a very steep hill. Whilst the horses were changing we got an omelet. Scotch officer and his wife, who had come on _en voiturier_, we overtook here. As elsewhere, a crowd of beggars assailed us on alighting and re-entering our carriage. In this country they spoil their own trade, for they are too numerous. I hurry over all this, for my notes are very meagre.

Approaching Abbeville by a long descent, its cathedral, proudly elevating its beautiful Gothic front above the other buildings (dingy in colour, and unpicturesque in form) was the only redeeming point in the view; but that _was_ an interesting one. The town, however, pleased us, though its streets are rather narrow and dirty. Found our old friends the hussars of the Brunswick auxiliaries and my old troop (G) quartered here.

_8th._--Started at a little after seven A.M. Our postilion was the first one we had had, who astonished F. by wearing jack-boots. Breakfasted at Flixcourt: little slop-basins instead of cups, with large spoons; as usual, sour bread and soapy butter--for all which the charge was exorbitant. During breakfast the beautiful band of the 1st Hussars, K.G.L., was playing on an open space near the house, where the regiment had its morning parade.

At Pecquigny met a bridal--all in their best; men and boys firing guns, and the bride carrying a little flag. A young rogue who stood by our carriage whilst changing horses begging in a most piteous accent, observing me start when the first gun was fired, just before the procession came in sight, could not resist the desire of amusing himself at my expense, whom he no doubt took for some Cockney, and shouted, in a voice of affected alarm, “C’est l’ennemi, monsieur!” and seeing that his _coup_ had _manqué_, burst into laughter.

Beyond Pecquigny came on the valley of the Somme; and the scenery became somewhat interesting. Amiens we found full of Prussians, and only stopped to change horses--Maître de Poste quite a gentlemanly man, riding a managed horse. Fine old town and splendid cathedral. Stopped for the night at Breteuil. Inn an immense old-fashioned house, like an old convent; great rambling wainscoted corridor; and our room large, lofty, and the walls hung with old faded tapestry, and two old-fashioned beds with curtains of yellow damask; sitting-room quite on a par with it. Our attendant Josephine (a very pretty girl) told us our teeth must be bad, because we complained of our fowl being tough; and to our complaint of knives, she said they were too sharp, for that she had just cut her finger with one of them. Apropos of knives, there seems but one pattern all over France, and that a very coarse one, which, however costly the table-service in other respects, appears everywhere to spoil the whole. Its sharp point one sees constantly used as a tooth-pick; and over and over again I have seen it taken from that employment and plunged unhesitatingly into some dish, &c. Soup served in a regular white jorden; however, we find fine Sevres porcelain coffee-services everywhere. Wine here all out of one cask, though Josephine protested that the fifty different kinds she enumerated were literally and truly each from the place named. F. astonished at the immense long loaves. An English family had arrived in a smart barouche, with servants in a cabriolet. Forced to sit in their bedroom, ours being the only _salle_, such as it is.

_November 9th._--Early this morning a large detachment of Prussian infantry marched into Breteuil, and the officers, as soon as their parade was over, came tramping _sans cérémonie_ through every room in the house. F., whom I had left alone whilst I strolled out to see the place, was terribly frightened by three or four of them walking into the room, and standing there with the door open jabbering for some time, as if no one had been present, one of them ogling most furiously. Spite of our exertions, the family in the barouche got their horses and set off before us, to our great annoyance, as of course they would absorb all the attention and occupy all the accommodation to our exclusion. Josephine gave us a miserable breakfast, no doubt owing to that accursed barouche; and, after all, our bill was most exorbitant. Thought our postilion was mad--for never saw French postilion dash along so recklessly and at such a pace: the cabriolet rolled from side to side, and jerked and jumped so that I expected we should plunge through the windows. Still it was pleasant to get on. At last we overtook the barouche, and the mystery was explained, for our gentleman relapsed at once into the tamest of postilions, sticking himself close up to the other carriage, with his horses’ noses under its very dicky. Occupant of this a gentleman’s gentleman of the very first water, who sadly annoyed F. by his impudent staring. Urged our hero of the jack-boots and sheep’s-skin pelisse to pass ahead, for the heavy barouche, although drawn by four horses, could only get on at a jog-trot pace. Urged long in vain. At last, just as he was about to push on, the gentleman in the dicky dropped his glove, and our most polite postilion actually stopped, dismounted, picked it up, and again driving up in the wake of the barouche, presented it with the utmost deference of manner to the supercilious scoundrel. Got furious now, and commenced such a volley that I at last actually succeeded in driving him ahead of the barouche just as we approached Clermont. Another marriage at St Juste: bride very pretty, and guns fired in abundance as before. Clermont uncommonly prettily situated. Did not alight, but enjoyed some delicious grapes which women and girls brought and sold for a song. Hence to Creil; a great improvement in the scenery, which became rich, diversified, and well wooded, until near that place we descended into the beautiful bottom of the Oise, with its wooded hill and white cliffs. Found here a garrison of Belges. Our postilion still more mad. As we had foreseen, there was some difficulty in getting rooms at the Hotel de Bourbon at Chantilly, and we had scarcely secured them ere the barouche drove up, but could not find accommodation. Visited the chateau of the Prince de Condé. Stables magnificent; an immense lofty hall, as big as a church, with a fine cupola--around are the stalls, &c.--splendid idea! Our dinner even more than usually ridiculous by the number of little _plats_--a regular doll’s; liqueurs of sorts, all very bad, in cruet-bottles--aniseed the only one drinkable. In the evening entertained by the singing of the Nassau troops stationed here. Bad news from Paris. In the next room a party of London shop-boys, or some such thing. One of these, pretty drunk, wanted to be called in the morning, and as our doors were open, we had the full benefit and advantage of the fine language propounded to the waiter: “Garçon! mon domestique à cinq heure et demie.” Garçon does not comprehend; tries over and over again. “Je ne vous comprends pas, monsieur, se fait entendre toujours.” At last impatient, “Well, dammee, ’tis simply this, my man: tell my servant to call me at half-past five o’clock.” We went to our bedroom ere the matter was settled. The French seem to think nothing of damp sheets--ours were actually wet.

_10th._--Our host gave us a most comfortable breakfast, after which we set off in high spirits for Paris; the day fine and scenery lovely. Whilst changing horses at Luzarches, some non-commissioned officers of the Belgic or Nassau troops stationed there were exceedingly impertinent to F., but I had no time to obtain redress, so left them.

After passing Pierrefitte, made our postilion turn off the chaussée spite of his objections, and attempt to reach Stain; but we soon found the cross-road so bad, nearly smashing our wheels, that we were glad to regain the chaussée. Whilst stopping at the post-house at St Denis, Frazer and Ambrose rode up. From them we learned that old Webber had made my house very comfortable; so determined not to stay in Paris, but to give up our cabriolet, and return forthwith to Stain. This we accordingly did, driving straight to the Remise, Rue Faubourg St Denis, where we hired a fiacre, and reached Stain about dusk. It was a cold gloomy evening. The story of comfort was exaggerated. Webber had hired some little, shabby, old furniture; but the place looked wretched, and when F. became fully aware of its discomforts, her enthusiasm gave way like snow before the sun; she burst into tears. The heroics vanished, and she confessed she wished herself again in England. The room had indeed a most forlorn appearance: a handful of fire flickered in the grateless, gaping chimney; the little furniture was of the coarsest kind; the uncarpeted floor of brick;--desolation everywhere! We had had no dinner, and, except some ration-beef, nothing could be procured. Some of this, however, was cooked and despatched; and, as the best thing we could do, we set to work putting to rights, and making the most of it. Nothing could equal the surprise of Madlle. Rose at finding that the smooth-faced bourgeois was indeed the identical mustachioed commandant she had been accustomed to months ago. Next morning found a poultry-yard--rabbits, &c., all provided by the attentions of old Robertson, my quartermaster-sergeant. Things looked better; F. was refreshed, consequently in better spirits. The visits of congratulation and kind attentions of our villagers delighted her; but M. le Maire stood like one thunderstruck when introduced to his old friend with a new face. My cow dead, but another was negotiating for. The history of the defunct was, that she was a commissariat issue to me as so many rations; but, instead of putting her to death, I kept her for her milk.

Here, again, I am without a guide, or nearly so--my diary ends; and, to continue our residence at Stain, I am reduced to a few brief notices preserved in my general journal.

That residence was uncomfortable enough, for the winter set in with a degree of severity unknown in England; and our house, both from its construction and furnishing, was ill calculated, under such circumstances, to afford comfort, or indeed at times to prevent suffering. However, we were in paradise compared to the situation of the little farmers (cultivateurs) and still poorer people amongst whom we were thus domiciliated. With them we found that it was no uncommon practice to live in the stable, &c., among the cattle, for the sake of sparing fuel--the animals helping to keep them warm.

Sometimes I took F. to Paris to see the lions; but it was sad, cold, dirty work. The streets were ankle-deep in mud; even the walks of the Palais Royal, the Passage des Panoramas, &c., were covered with mud, carried in on people’s feet. Sometimes I took a walk; but the country, now stripped of its verdure, presented an aspect hideously cheerless. What could be more so than the extensive, dreary, snow-covered plain extending from St Denis to the foot of Montmartre without a redeeming tree? Like other highroads, the one crossing this plain to La Chapelle, we were told, had once been bordered by trees, but they were cut down on the approach of the Allied armies, I think, last year.

Soon after arriving, having published through the commune our want of a female servant, Mademoiselle Rose introduced Angélique. My wife took a liking to her immediately; so, having exchanged written contracts with M. l’Ecuyer (her father), engaging to take care of, and send her back from England free of expense, she was engaged, and forthwith entered on her functions, as cook, lady’s-maid, &c. M. l’Ecuyer is (like most of our neighbours) a cultivateur--works his own little bit of land, and is independent, except of poverty; for these little cultivateurs work hard and fare harder, as far as I can learn.

Sometimes our _séjour_ was enlivened by visits from our own officers, or from some of those stationed in St Denis, La Vertu, and even from Paris: and occasionally more genial weather allowed F. to ride Cossack; but these rides were necessarily confined to the park. With the villagers we had become as much at home as Frenchmen could be. As for our _ménage_, it got on pretty well; and once we even ventured on giving a dinner to Wells and Ambrose, which went off pretty well; and once we went and passed a day with Sir A. Frazer at the Hotel du Nord.

Again, one bitter cold black day, we visited the Abbey of St Denis, and went shivering through its vaults, and were shown the last home prepared by Napoleon for himself. The town was crowded with troops on their march northwards. Once or twice F. was able to ride to Paris; but it was hard work. Amongst other amusements in Stain, we had one not very agreeable, and which kept us in a continual state of excitement. Our men were continually setting fire to their quarters, particularly the chateau of Admiral Rosily. The villagers said this arose from their removing the ashes, and making their fires on the bare hearth, which thus became so hot as to set fire to the beams beneath. They therefore advised the men to leave the ashes and make their new fire on them. This they did; but Admiral Rosily wrote to tell me that no fires ought be lighted up-stairs in his house, as the chimneys were only intended as ventilators, and therefore begged us to confine the fires to the ground-floor. At the stables of the chateau, over which a detachment was lodged, a fire occurred, and continued smouldering in the beams for a fortnight, the centre remaining on fire when we thought it extinguished.

At length the period of our departure drew nigh, and arrangements were made at headquarters which totally disorganised my troop at the moment when a perfect organisation was most necessary. During the campaign, a detachment of the driver-corps had been attached to each troop of horse-artillery, our own establishment being insufficient for the additional carriages. These were now to be withdrawn and sent home; and accordingly, all this rabble from Bull’s and other troops still in the neighbourhood of Paris were sent to mine as destined for England. Secondly, all my officers were allowed to desert me. Captain Webber protested he was too weak to undertake such a journey, and obtained leave to remain in Paris; my surgeon (Ambrose) was permitted to remain in charge of him; Lieutenant Bruce neither liked the winter-march nor quitting Paris, where he was doing aide-de-camp to his cousin, Lady Castlereagh; two lieutenants (Maunsell and Wells) remained to march with the troop; but the former had resolved on leaving the service, and the latter had obtained an exchange to a troop forming part of the Army of Occupation, consequently he accompanies us only a part of the way to Calais--and thus no very great zeal could be expected from either of these. Thirdly, we were ordered to give up our white cross-belts to G troop, in exchange for their waist-belts--exhibiting thus our old worn jackets in all their nakedness. Fourthly, our overalls were in rags--new ones had been ordered, and were on the road from Brussels, but we were not allowed to wait for them. Add to all this the casualties of a long winter-march, bad lodging, and worse weather, and the condition of the troop on reaching Calais may be imagined. The defection of Ambrose, however, was counterbalanced by my old friend Hitchins getting leave to accompany us to England. He, too, intended quitting the service.

_December 16th._--Hitchins joined us at Stain; and as he brought his own bed, I gave him a room in my chateau. The knotty question of how F. and Angélique were to travel was settled between them and Hitchins; and, overruling my scruples, it was arranged that a cabriolet should be hired for Calais, to be drawn by a pair of troop-horses, with the driver for postilion. Accordingly, on the 18th Hitchins went to Paris and procured the vehicle, whilst we continued our preparations.

_19th._--The troop under Maunsell marched at an early hour for Beaumont, our first halting-place. One would have fancied that the village militia was about to quit home. No one thought of work: the whole population of the commune assembled in the park; endless the leave-takings, and I believe sincere the expressions of friendship and regrets at separation. Many of the cultivateurs, whose carts we had taken for the baggage, cheerfully volunteered accompanying us all the way to Calais.

Our own baggage delayed us so much that it was eleven A.M. before we were under way--F. and Angélique (whose relations to the twentieth degree had thronged our house all the morning) in the _calèche_, Hitchins and myself on horseback, followed by Gunner Fitzgerald, my orderly, and my groom Milward, in uniform and carrying my Waterloo lance. The day was fine, and the country pretty enough for the season; so that, after getting on the chaussée at Pierrefitte, we moved on merrily and agreeably until evening, when the sky clouded over, it became very cold, and soon a heavy fall of snow came on, in the midst of which we arrived at Beaumont, and found our people just forming the park, and those of Major Dyas already snug in their quarters. His battery had been ordered to march with us; but he had also orders not to interfere in any way with me or mine.

Our billet was on an iron merchant, and thither we proceeded, whilst Hitchins went in search of his own. Our house was a respectable-looking one outside; inside it was much like a great foundry, or some such place--almost the whole of it being one vast hall, lighted from above, and full of bar-iron standing against the walls. An open staircase conducted us to a small gallery; up one more step and into a neat little room--but, from the scarcity of furniture and badness of the fire, looking sufficiently cheerless: a table, covered as usual with oil-cloth, two or three plain chairs, a bed without curtains, and windows without shutters;--such was the domicile into which we were ushered by a hideously ugly and most sulky maid-servant. Assistance from the house we soon found we must not expect, and sent out for something to eat; but the answer was _nil_, and we were forced to content ourselves with some bad tea and bread-and-butter. The evening was wretchedly cold, and our fire so insufficient that we were glad to get to bed; but here, again, were _wet_ sheets, and we were obliged to get between the blankets. Miserable evening!

_20th._--Weather improved. Started about eleven, and, traversing a beautiful and fertile country, arrived in the afternoon at the pretty village of Noailles, where we found ourselves billeted on a rich old gentleman, who did not ask us to his table, but in every other respect did his utmost to make us comfortable; and so in reality we were, for our apartment was delightfully so; our fare good; and our host furnished us liberally with good wine and cider. Passed the evening playing dominoes, and wishing we could stay in such nice quarters. Began to find Angélique[28] very useful in communicating with the people, whose ways she understood better than we. Noailles is but a poor village, although prettily situated; however, there is a manufactory here of those pretty bands which French women wear below _the knee_.

_21st._--A short march to Beauvais, where we arrived early; and whilst I parked the guns and saw my people put up, Hitchins accompanied F. in search of my quarters. My duty finished, I followed to a handsome house, where I understood they were. Whilst making inquiries under the gateway, Madame herself came out and told me rather angrily that I could have no quarters there, as the colonel (my travelling title) and his lady already occupied all she was bound to furnish. I endeavoured to explain that the gentleman up-stairs was my friend, that I was M. le Colonel, and had sent him to escort my wife, &c. &c. At the word _femme_, the _insolente_ with a sneer turned from me with, “Ah! soi-disante.” A scene occurred; Monsieur himself came out, who I insisted should be responsible for his wife’s tongue. At last they begged pardon, and I mounted the staircase according to direction, and found a most comfortable lodging--two well-furnished rooms and a small cabinet. The people sent up soon after to invite us to dinner, they being ordered to feed us; but we would not go, and made them send dinner up to us. Our rooms had only one drawback--they were rather gloomy, the windows opening upon a courtyard. Stayed three days in Beauvais, during which we lived well at the expense of our host; and having bought some cards, Hitchins came every evening to coffee, and we had a game at casino. Our mornings were passed in visiting the beautiful Gothic cathedral and other churches; the manufactory of tapestry, equalling that of the Gobelins, of which this is a branch; in shopping, and in riding about the neighbouring country, which is pretty--somewhat resembling that about Bath. One evening we went to the play--a dark dismal house, and quite a second-rate set of actors. Don’t know what the piece was, but the humour consisted in the _patois_ of an old Picard servant, who was continually repeating, “Ya! ya! ya! Munsincur!” There were a good many of us--all the officers of Ross’s troop and Dyas’s battery, _par excellence_. The pit was full of French soldiers; yet all went off cheerfully, until our people called for “Vive Henri Quatre,” which these Napoleonists fiercely opposed, and a row ensued, which terminated at last amicably. The ramparts of Beauvais form a delicious promenade, which I enjoyed; whilst F. and Hitchins were gadding about from shop to shop, buying lace, cambric, &c.

_22d._--I intended marching forward to-morrow, but Quartermaster Robertson, who was sent on to take up our quarters, returned at midnight with the intelligence that all the villages ahead of us were still full of troops. Relinquished the idea.

Major Dyas came to coffee. When he heard of the insult offered to F. he insisted upon going immediately to pull my host by the nose. “_Bloody D._” was one of those jewels we received at the Union from the Irish artillery--tall, gaunt, and muscular, with a most truculent physiognomy. His cognomen was received on account of the ferocity he had displayed in the Irish Rebellion. Now he had become a gallant Lothario (not a gay one), and, if report spoke true, had already two wives, and had nearly succeeded in picking up a third in Paris--daughter of a gentleman of very good property, at whose house he had been billeted. Strange how insinuating these Irishmen are. To look at D. one would never suppose that a girl, young enough to be his daughter, handsome, and rich withal, could ever have fallen in love with such a man; and yet those best acquainted with the affair assured me that it was indubitably true.

_23d._--Great market or fair--immense quantity of woollen cloth, manufacture of the town and neighbourhood. Preparations making for a grand procession in honour of Jeanne Hachette, who distinguished herself in the defence of the place against the Duc de Bourgogne in 1740. Until I looked into the history, I thought it had been, as some of the people informed me, in honour of Joan of Arc. Beauvais is a gloomy, old-fashioned town; the streets very narrow, and, during our stay, very dirty. What they might be in summer I can’t guess, but they look as if they must be then redolent of the same sulphurous odour as those of Paris.

_24th._--Marched to Grandvilliers; everything looking wretched, for the day was dark and excessively cold: in France, on such occasions, there are no redeeming features. The country is in most cases without enclosures, and the few trees, stripped of their verdure, present most cheerless pictures, unrelieved by any appearance of warmth or comfort about the mean and wretched-looking dwellings of the peasantry. These, when we entered the village, presented rather a better appearance than usual, for all were _en habits de Dimanche_, which was the day. Lodged F. in the post-house (here an inn), and then went round our billets. Village very large, two broad streets crossing each other, but the houses all farms or cottages, most of them of mud, like the Devonshire cobbe, and all thatched; the site of the place a dead flat, but pretty well clothed with trees. At our post-house we procured a tolerably decent though very small parlour, the chimney of which, however, smoked so terribly that, spite of the weather, we were obliged to sit constantly with the door open; up-stairs (this was a sort of addition to the original house projecting into the yard) a bedroom of the same size, in which were two beds; and nothing could exceed the astonishment of our friend the chambermaid at our arrangement of sleeping together. The inhabitants here were ordered by beat of drum to feed us. We now came under the command of Sir Denis Park, who commands at Calais and up the road as far as this place, he having the arrangement of the embarkations.

We lived well at our inn, and remedied the open door by a large screen. Every evening we saw company--_i. e._, our officers--and, although the weather was very cold, passed our time pleasantly enough. One day an immense market or fair afforded us ample amusement; another, our attention and curiosity were excited by the arrival of a troop of the National Guard, _à cheval_, from Beauvais; but, after staying the whole afternoon and night, they departed the next morning without our being a bit the wiser. One day the Earl of Westmeath arrived, and stopped all night; his lordship was obliged to put up with the rooms we had rejected.

_January 1, 1816._--At last the order for our advance having arrived, we marched this morning from Grandvilliers, several _paysannes_ of the village following the troop as volunteers for l’Angleterre, betraying the effects of idleness in country quarters. Whilst preparing to set off, our host presented a bill for our living, &c., amounting to nine napoleons, which I was about to pay, when Hitchins and F. interfered, asking the good man whether he would have dared appear before a Prussian officer with such a thing, and telling him after the manner his countrymen had treated all other countries that he ought to think himself well off in being treated so leniently. He did not subscribe to this, and an argument ensued which I was sorry for, but was weak enough to allow my better intentions to be overruled; and at last, when Monsieur begged I would at least certify that he had not been paid, I did so on the bill, stating as reason that the inhabitants had been ordered to feed us. Our march to Poix, the next halting-place, was through a country that never could be very interesting, still less so in its wintry garb, until, from the summit of a high hill, we looked down upon the lovely valley in which that village is situated. On arriving we found all the world _en habit de Dimanche_ celebrating the opening of the new year. The principal features in this celebration were the kisses exchanging in all directions, the enormous stiffly-starched caps of the women, and the music that paraded continually through the streets. The _auberge_ we found so noisy, smoky, dirty, and the landlord such an uncivil brute, that we immediately commenced a search for a better billet. For a time success seemed uncertain; the houses of the peasantry were too filthy to be thought of. Not far from the _auberge_ we found a good house, but shut-up doors and windows. In vain Hitchins and I knocked and threatened, or asked information of its inhabitants from the neighbours; nobody would answer from within, and nobody would answer without--at least more than “Je n’en sais rien, monsieur.” At last we found a respectable sort of old-fashioned farmhouse, the mistress of which (a widow) was factotum to the Prince de Poix, proprietor of the village, and much of the neighbouring country,--and hither we immediately removed, bag and baggage. A labyrinth of dark passages led to a large, gloomy, wainscoted room, in one corner of which was a great old-fashioned bed, with yellow damask curtains, like the one we slept in at Breteuil. Here we established ourselves, and Angélique had a small cabinet hard by, whilst the men were put up in the more distant part of the house occupied by the family. Although there was a large fireplace, in which we kept up capital fires, the place was very cold; but a couple of old screens in some measure remedied this, and at last we thought ourselves tolerably comfortable. Our park was formed on the site of the ancient castle of the princes, now almost entirely gone, except a few mounds marking out the ground-plan. The village of Poix, though covering a great deal of ground, is not large; for, except the few houses standing contiguous to the _auberge_, the others are scattered up and down, widely apart from each other. The situation is extremely pretty in summer, probably beautiful: a deep and rather narrow valley, with a small stream running through it; partly below the village covered with woods, which also ran over and clothed all the surrounding hills--not close thick copse, but composed of trees and thickets of coppice, through which one might ride in all directions on a carpet of turf. On a steep bank, immediately opposite our dwelling, was the little church, unpretending, but having a beautiful Gothic western doorway, over which, as a record of revolutionary folly, was painted in large letters, “_Temple de la Raison_;” these had been either whitewashed or painted over, but insufficiently, for they were still distinctly legible. The weather during our stay at Poix (seven days) was gloomy and very cold, yet we managed to have many interesting rides amongst the woods. Hitchins dined with us always, and came provided with some excellent wine, which he procured from his own hostess. In one of our walks, at the fork of the roads to Amiens and Abbeville, we found a diminutive chapel with a figure of the Virgin in it, and as diminutive a priest, humpbacked. He showed us his chapel, and we put some money into his box, and so parted mutually satisfied. It was at this corner that I met an elderly French veteran trudging towards the village in his _capote_ and forage-cap, with the usual goat-skin knapsack: he was _minus_ an arm, and upon questioning him I found that he had left it at Waterloo. Something interesting in this interview.

In the village we found a corporal and four privates of the 18th Hussars, stationed here for despatches. The corporal fell in love with Angélique, and proposed for her, but was rejected. Her lover gave us an alert one night to deliver a despatch (these hussars always come in the night!), and I made sure we were off. It was an order to have divine service every Sunday.

_8th._--At length on the 7th the order did come, and this day we marched to Airaines through a sufficiently dismal country, and weather very cold and gloomy, still followed by the girls from Grandvilliers. Some part of the country, from its hilliness and numerous orchards, in some measure resembled Devonshire; but as we approached the town these cease, and we saw again only extensive and treeless plains.

Airaines at first sight was not calculated to remove the unpleasant feeling excited by its neighbourhood: rather large for a country town, and lying on a gentle slope; its streets irregular, and buildings mean, dirty, and ruinous-looking;--altogether very gloomy. Our billet was on the _auberge_ where the diligences stopped, a house of very inferior description, in which we did not establish ourselves without difficulty, and then wretchedly enough. For ourselves we got a room with two dirty beds in it, and only the coarsest kind of furniture; floor inch-thick in dirt, and having chinks between the planks, so gaping that we could see everything going on below--and being over the gateway, the great lounge of the postilions, _gens-d’armes_, &c., we had not only the advantage of all their conversation, but also of their eternal tobacco-pipes; also the full benefit of a most cooling breeze continually blowing through the gateway. The only room we could procure for Angélique was occupied by a postilion, and he was unwilling to evacuate, so that a little tyranny became necessary to gain possession. We turned him out _vi et armis_. In this wretched place we remained a fortnight, during which the weather, always gloomy, was at times bitterly cold, or heavy rain. As the whole troop could not be lodged here, it was necessary to detach Maunsell with one division to a village at least five miles off; and Wells, pretending there was no lodging to be procured here, asked leave to accompany him--notwithstanding which, our surgeon, Ambrose, who overtook us here, immediately obtained very comfortable quarters. Hitchins also was uncommonly well lodged in the house of an old smuggler. Our park was formed on an open space by the road to Abbeville, just without the town, where, as the weather was too cold for our guard to remain in a tent, I asked the mayor to procure them accommodation in a house hard by. This he refused, until I made preparations to bring our park into the market-place, which alarmed him so much that he immediately complied. The market-place, by the way, was precisely similar to the old buildings one sees in English country towns; and here the two Sundays during our stay I performed divine service. To pass our time here we sometimes rode about the dreary neighbourhood, where we discovered a ruined castle; and in another part a rather pretty village, with a fine manor-house and park; but the people soon drove us away from this last, not only by their abuse, but even pelting us with stones. In bad weather we resorted to a wretched billiard-table opposite our inn, where I taught F. the game, and drank bitter coffee to my cigars. There was nothing extraordinary in her frequenting this table, as it is customary for females to do so; and there were seldom any other people present than our own.

In addition to our other occupations, the diligence afforded a daily and short amusement as it stopped at our inn-door. I can see now the great lumbering machine just drawn up, a clown in a blue smock-frock, linen forage-cap with a huge peak sticking straight out, and a long coach-whip in hand, seated on the near wheeler, guiding by cord-reins the three cart-horses harnessed abreast as leaders; and two tall soldier-like _gens-d’armes_, in their neat blue uniforms and cocked-hats, stepping up to the door, and whilst one examines the way-bill, the other mounts the step of the vehicle and scrutinises the passengers. They were fine fellows these, and we got tolerably intimate with them. Every evening Hitchins came to us and played a rubber of casino. One evening standing at our window, we saw some sheep come down the opposite street; two or three went into the passage of a house, the door of which was instantly closed by an old woman, and we both exclaimed, “Ah, the wretch! she steals the sheep.” Our servants who stood by laughed, and explained that the old shepherd (who now appeared sauntering slowly along) was the guardian of the town flock, which he conducted to pasture daily.

Accordingly the next morning the old man again marched under our window towards the fields, blowing his horn, at which sound the door opposite again opened, and out sallied the same sheep following the old man, and forming with others assembling from all quarters a large flock, which we found him with in the fields when we went to ride.

_22d._--Marched to Abbeville. Billeted on a velvet manufacturer with a pretty wife; excellent house, comfortable living. Visit the cathedral and walk about the town.

Forgot that I tried one of my men by a court-martial at Airaines upon a charge of stealing bacon, brought against him by a peasant of the village where Maunsell was quartered. Sent on to Abbeville for a captain, and Close came over for the purpose. The _patois_ of the witnesses was so mixed up with English as to astonish us; one in particular we shrewdly suspected of being an English deserter. It was, however, only the _patois_ of Picardy. “Yes” was much oftener used than “oui” by them. On our way here from Airaines, descending to the Somme at Point de Remy, I saw a very large Roman encampment on a neighbouring hill: country about the river pretty as usual. Here most of my horses were put up in the riding-school of the cavalry barrack. Our host’s family consisted of himself, a grown-up son, a female cousin, and his pretty wife, who was very civil, and went shopping with F., but disgusted me at breakfast by holding up a beastly pocket-handkerchief and spitting at it.

_23d._--Much pleased at marching to Montreuil, as we had expected Rue and Nampont would have been our destination. Comfortable inn--the same Sterne was at; and our _salle_ the identical room in which LaFleur slept--so said our host. Excellent dinner: Hitchins dined with us, and we drank two bottles of prime champagne. Wells left us here to join my old troop at St Pol. As we were tired, we slept so soundly that we never knew until morning that the house had been set on fire during the night by a drunken officer of infantry.

_24th._--Wretched morning, snowing heavily, and very cold. Hitchins suffered much from our ride, and got sulky because F. and Angélique laughed at him. Stopped at Samer to see our friends the Demoiselles Mallet, and get some hot wine.

At Boulogne our billet was on a capital house; but our host, an old officer (I think colonel), extremely sulky and disobliging--obliged to send to a restaurateur’s for our dinner. Walked about the town and on the ramparts. No snow here, though the weather was excessively raw and windy. Ramparts pretty; the only trees in the neighbourhood are on them.

At night had gone to bed, expecting to remain a day or two, and were not yet asleep when some one tapped at our window, which opened into a little flagged court. I got up and found a hussar (as usual), who brought me a note, which I could not read until he went and got a light. It was an order to march to-morrow to Guines.

_25th._--As our landlord (commandant of the National Guard) had been anything but civil, we set off without taking leave of him. Other cavalry besides ourselves had halted in Boulogne, and we found the road covered with troops, stragglers, and baggage. Amidst these we struggled on as far as Marquise, where we left the chaussée for a villanous cross-road, by which, about noon, we arrived at Guines, a very pretty little town, and the day being fine, a very cheerful-looking one. Our billet (if billet it were) was a capital one--the Chateau de Beauscite; the owner, M. le Baron de Guesclin, with Madame and his daughters, received us most kindly. The family consisted of M. le Baron, a good-natured, but ugly, and not very genteel-looking man, about sixty; Madame la Baronne, a jolly good-looking woman of forty; one very sickly-looking daughter about twenty-two; another a year or so older, hideously marked with small-pox, but extremely obliging and good-natured; and a tall awkward son of about twenty. The house comfortable and well furnished. We were treated quite on the footing of guests, and even welcome ones. Style of living much the same as that of an English country gentleman of easy fortune. After dinner the Baron proposed showing us our room and the house. Passing through his own bedroom, with a knowing wink he gave me to understand that he did not follow modern fashions in sleeping separate from his wife; for, pointing to the ample and handsome bed, he exclaimed loud enough to be heard by all, “M., voilà la fabrique des enfans!” Madame looked archly over her shoulder at me and burst out laughing.

_26th._--Fine day. Breakfast of tea, &c., got up expressly for us, as when alone they have no such regular meal, but merely take a cup of coffee. Afterwards the son showed me the stables, stud, farm, &c., and then, mounted on a long-tailed Norman horse, with military saddle and bridle, took us to see the obelisk erected on the spot where Blanchard descended after crossing the Channel in his balloon. The country pretty, because well wooded; and from the hill I once more saw the white cliffs of England, although I will not pretend to have experienced any very great delight in so doing, as the future promised nothing good, and I would rather have remained in France. Reduction, Woolwich duties, and insipidity from the total absence of excitement--such was the prospect before me.

In the afternoon a very handsome young man (an officer in some cavalry corps) came in and dined with us. His father, an old gentleman of good fortune in the neighbourhood, had served many years in the hussars, and was (I believe) Madame’s brother. In the evening came in the family confessor--a fat, greasy priest--who made himself quite at home; but they did not seem over well pleased with his company. Servants singing in the kitchen: opened a little trap in the wall of a cupboard which communicated with the kitchen to hear a young girl from St Omer sing “Brulant d’Amour” and “Partant pour la Guerre,” which she did with great sweetness. Our hopes of enjoying this pleasant billet for some days disappointed by the order to march to-morrow into Calais, only eight miles off.

_27th._--Gloomy cold day. A mass to be celebrated for the soul of Louis XVI. I had promised M. le Baron to allow my men to assist in the procession, but instead was obliged to take leave as they were about to begin. Early in the morning all the front of the chateau was hung with black cloth. Nothing could be kinder or even more affectionate than our leave-taking, and Madame obliged F. to wrap up in a rich _pelerin_ of her own, which we were to leave at Quillacq’s. The distance being so short, we were not long on the road, which for the most part lay along the canal as far as St Pierre, a great straggling suburb of Calais, in which we were to halt. Nothing could be worse than our accommodations here--horses and men scattered about by twos and threes, far and wide; some of them were sent back almost to Guines--so near at least as to hear distinctly the church-bells. As for us, we were put into a farmhouse, where they gave us a room without a fireplace, insufferable in such a season; therefore, being obliged to go into Calais to report our arrival to Webber Smith, I left F. and Hitchins hunting for another quarter. After some trouble I got a billet from the Quartermaster-General on the Lion d’Argent, in Calais, kept by an impudent English scoundrel named Oakshot, who was not at all well pleased at our being put on him. Rode back to St Pierre, where I found F. and Hitchins in a bedroom they had procured at a dirty smoky _brasserie_; so we all adjourned together to the Silver Lion.

Here we were detained some time, which, however, was of less consequence, as we were lodged well and fed well. In other respects, however, the detention was anything but pleasant. Calais at the best of times must be a dismal stupid hole; at this season of storms, cold, rain, mud, &c. &c. it was scarcely endurable. Great part of my day was passed at or about the pier, whence, from time to time as vessels arrived, we shipped off some of our people.

Nothing can be imagined more harassing and destructive than this process of embarkation. For example, my people, as before mentioned, were dispersed in all directions round the neighbourhood, even to the distance of six or eight miles, by twos and threes, &c., so that they were under no control whatever. Meantime the guns, ammunition-waggons, &c., all dismounted and ready to put on board, remained exposed to all the weather on the pier. At daylight in the morning, according to orders, men and horses assembled there also, and remained--rain, hail, wind or snow (of all which we had plenty)--until dusk in the evening, when they were permitted to return to their billets for the night. Nothing could be more subversive of discipline and harassing to the men, or more ruinous to the horses; yet, from the system adopted by those who ruled the transport service, it could not well be avoided, since the vessels engaged were all schooners, sloops, &c.; and it was necessary, when any of these returned for a fresh cargo, that the embarkation should be as prompt as possible, not only for the more expeditiously getting the troops across, but because they were obliged to leave the harbour with the same tide, or remain twelve hours. These vessels did not go all to one place; thus my troop was landed by sixes and sevens at Dover, Sandwich, Deal, Ramsgate, &c., and then assembled at Canterbury. Webber Smith was our immediate commanding officer here; and Sir Denis Park, who commanded, occasionally rode down to see how things were going on, so that there was no getting out of the way, and our only relief was an occasional stroll about the muddy, dismal streets, lounging in some of the shops, &c. Thus time hung heavily on our hands. Hitchins had left us on the very first evening of our arrival at the Silver Lion, and we sadly missed his kind attentions--especially F., who, whilst I was at the pier, had no one to escort her about, and of course in such a place going alone was out of the question. I found a pleasing companion to while away time at the pier in the harbour-master, an old captain of the French navy, and a well-informed, gentlemanly person, from whom I picked up a good deal of information. I cannot omit noting the fact that a female bookseller here, whose _magazin_ we sometimes frequented, one day let out that she implicitly believed every one of the absurd lies respecting England contained in General Pelet’s book, and would hardly credit our contradiction of them.

At last our tedious detention came, like all things else, to a conclusion. Two sloops, capable of containing all the remainder of my troop, came in one evening too late to sail before next morning, and with this last party I decided on embarking. When Angélique heard this she came and begged I would lend her a suit of my plain clothes, as the prefect had prohibited French women going with the English, and had already stopped many. Here was a dilemma. My old Scotch quartermaster, however, got us out of it. I don’t know how he passed the gates, but he did manage on the morning of the 25th January 1816 to smuggle Angélique on board before daylight, and conceal her below, without the necessity of changing her female for male attire.

After breakfast we embarked and immediately sailed. Webber Smith went with us, as we were the very last of the Royal Horse-Artillery. The weather was gloomy, cold, and stormy, but the wind was fair, and we were off Dover early in the afternoon. The tide would not admit even our little sloop into this miserable harbour before midnight, and she was hove to almost within speaking distance of the pier-head. Not relishing this position, we were glad to avail ourselves of a pilot-gig that came off and go ashore--although these fellows charged us a guinea a-head for thus carrying us about 200 yards.

After an early dinner at the York Hotel, Smith set off post for Blackheath, where his family was residing.

_26th._--To Canterbury. F. and Angélique in a post-chaise, to which I and Milward (carrying his lance) served as an escort, for I had no men to march with.

So ended the memorable campaign of 1815.

THE END.

PRINTED BY WILLIAM BLACKWOOD AND SONS, EDINBURGH.

FOOTNOTES:

[1] There was a species of Malmsey Madeira, the most delicious wine imaginable. The cellar seemed well stocked, and our table consequently was well supplied.

[2] These people were deputies sent from the Provisional Government to treat with the Duke, but I have never made out yet who he of the decoration might have been.

[3] The close Prussian collar, now so well known to the British army, was a novelty to us then: our collars were low, and cut down in front. The cavalry and horse-artillery particularly affected very narrow sloping collars.

[4] This must have been a mistake, for the Duke dates his despatches from Loures on the 30th June, and the headquarters would hardly have been established in a place so utterly destroyed as is here described. Perhaps the place was La Chapelle, which I find in the map. My recollection of the scene here portrayed is quite perfect even now, although not of the name.

[5] This makes it appear that my notes are right, answering with the map as they do.

[6] We did this to be enabled to march more expeditiously and freely, observing this road to be quite clear of troops.

[7] Bourget.

[8] Mistake. They passed at St Germain on the 30th June, and were in position between Plessis Picquet and St Cloud, with reserve at Versailles, on 2d July.--See Duke’s despatch.

[9] Several regiments from America marched through Garges this evening, and took up their station in front--fine corps of veterans, all having served in the Peninsula, and subsequently in America. Many a cheer from old comrades greeted their arrival. It was a soul-stirring sight, the proud march of these well-tried troops into our camp.

[10] Amongst these parties some were of the _haut-ton_, and I saw many very elegant women. Indeed, amongst the bourgeoise there was no lack of beauty, and in manner much to admire, since they infinitely surpass our countrywomen of the same class in gracefulness of carriage and gentility of address.

[11] Three windmills and an obelisk stand upon the summit next the gap, and a single mill on the isolated hill beyond it. The neighbourhood of Paris may be said to be characterised by the windmills which occupy every height, and thus testify to the sluggish nature of the streams watering the plains by the want of water-power.

[12] The Prussians seize all forage not under escort and for our own use. Had they known this last was not the case, our non-commissioned officer would have availed little.

[13] In English we have no word which will translate.

[14] The _cornette_.

[15] Le Nôtre had five feet (French) difference of level between one side and the other to remove. There is no accounting for taste.

[16] It once was a garden, but was destroyed by the great fire.

[17] These _bergeries_ are very numerous in the neighbourhood of Paris, where it seems the fashion among the great proprietors to keep flocks of merinos. Almost every chateau has its _bergerie_ and _vacherie_. We have one here in Stain belonging to M. le Marquis de Livry, as I know to my cost. The _bergerie_ consists of low sheds, forming a square. Within, they are fitted up with low racks for hay. The sheep are kept in these all the winter, and at night during the summer.

[18] I cannot FEEL in public, especially when a _showman_ is telling me in a garbled manner that which would spontaneously flash across the memory if left to one’s self. When we do not _feel_, we _can’t write_.

[19] Angélique told me since that Mademoiselle Rose fled to the woods with the rest of the villagers, and only returned when they did.

[20] I suspect a fact I have since remembered must have suggested the idea of charging us with the lead. Finding the horses very ragged when I first joined the troop, I ordered all their manes to be plaited and loaded with lead, of which a sufficiency could have been picked up about the chateau or lawn, or off the ends or remnants of the _already_ cut pipes.

[21] The two reserve troops.

[22] Under the cliffs at the other extremity, near the Barrière de Clichy, is a similar mound, originating, no doubt, in the same way. It is now covered with fine trees, and forms an agreeable object as one approaches the Barrière. Its name (_Monceau_) perhaps points to its origin.

[23] Early riser as I am, my neighbour here beat me considerably, for I always used to hear him harnessing his horses for work before daylight, which he did with a pretty annoying quantity of noise and chattering.

[24] To me the most interesting part of this mound was its history, rising abruptly as it does so much above the surrounding ground. Is it an enormous barrow, like Silbury, or is it a natural accumulation of alluvium?

[25] It must be remembered that in those days these, as well as many other things quite common in England, were novelties to Englishmen.

[26] The rough journal from which I have with much trouble compiled this copy is here so confused and imperfect as to be of little or no use; and my great auxiliaries--letters to my wife, from which I was enabled to correct or confirm dates, and to make more circumstantial many subjects only mentioned in the journal--I have unwittingly destroyed. During my stay at Stain, too, I wrote by fits and starts. Amongst new scenes of every kind, and new people, the excitement was too great to admit of shutting one’s self up for study or writing. Thus, from the period I have now reached, my means are so few, that it is quite impossible to bring my journal (as I wished) down to our final departure from France--as complete as it might have been.

[27] At three in the morning, when Lord Charles and his companion immediately landed and tried to persuade me to do the same, but I remained on board until daylight.

[28] She cooked for us here.

TRANSCRIBER’S NOTE

Footnote [21] is referenced twice from page 197.

Obvious typographical errors and punctuation errors have been corrected after careful comparison with other occurrences within the text and consultation of external sources.

Some hyphens in words have been silently removed, some added, when a predominant preference was found in the original book.

Except for those changes noted below, all misspellings in the text, and inconsistent or archaic usage, have been retained.

Pg 15: ‘sout de vrais brigands’ replaced by ‘sont de vrais brigands’. Pg 62: ‘the poperty of’ replaced by ‘the property of’. Pg 71: ‘Inhabiants there’ replaced by ‘Inhabitants there’. Pg 87: ‘cornetts’ replaced by ‘cornettes’. Pg 115: ‘Cossac’s wounds’ replaced by ‘Cossack’s wounds’. Pg 183: ‘M. le Berger de’ replaced by ‘M. le Berger and’. Pg 197: ‘Garges, Arnonville’ replaced by ‘Garges, Arnouville’. Pg 244: ‘pleasing undulalation’ replaced by ‘pleasing undulation’. Pg 278: ‘the slighest moment’ replaced by ‘the slightest moment’. Pg 286: ‘a a delicate pink’ replaced by ‘a delicate pink’.