CHAPTER VI.

Finding all quiet, and that our move hither from Ghent had only been for the purpose of bringing us nearer to the cavalry, whose headquarters were at Ninove, and into a more abundant country for forage, we now gave ourselves up to the amusements our situation afforded, as much as the requisite attention to military duties would allow. Some made excursions to Brussels and Antwerp; some passed their mornings knocking about the balls at a miserable billiard-table upon the rickety floor of an up-stairs room in a neighbouring cabaret; whilst others made a sort of flirting acquaintance with some of the fair damsels of Dendermonde. The time flew quickly, because we were happy.

I was anxious to see Antwerp, and proposed going thither; but day after day something occurred to prevent me, and at last I had the mortifying reflection of having passed six idle days within eighteen miles of it, and yet never been there. My only excursion was to Alost, or Aulst, as they call it. On the 28th Leathes and I set off on this expedition. Until within a mile of Alost, the character of the country we traversed was much the same as that about Dendermonde, but the villages and farm-houses were less neat and more poor in their appearance--ragged thatch instead of slates and tiles, &c.--and the streets of the villages or hamlets narrower and dirtier. During the whole ride we saw but one house that appeared the residence of a gentleman, and that was a large heavy-looking brick building, standing in the midst of an old-fashioned garden, ornamented (if so it may be called) with painted statues of men and monsters quite in the Cockney style. _En effet_, this was the _lusthause_ of a wealthy _bourgmestre_ of the Ville de Gand. Approaching Alost, we found the character of the country changing, and having seen nothing but a dead level ever since landing at Ostend, were agreeably surprised at finding ourselves ascending a gentle slope, and surrounded by a gently undulating country, yet so slightly so that we were not aware of it until on it. Passing a sort of advanced barrier, we soon reached the town, and rode into a respectable sort of square, where we dismounted at the Maison d’Autriche. No accommodation for horses here, so we were obliged to resort to a carrier’s in an adjoining street, where we with difficulty got stable-room, all being crowded with horses of Louis XVIII.’s cavalry. Being tired when I returned to Dendermonde, I made no note of my visit to Aulst, and therefore can say little about it. All I remember is a fine broad street of handsome houses running up an ascent; a pretty public walk (_en berceau_) called L’Allée d’Amour (as we should say, _Love Lane_; and what town or village is there in England which has not its Allée d’Amour?); a fine church, in which was a series of paintings (good, I believe) representing the life and adventures of some saint; the canal harbour, full of boats laden with corn and hay for our cavalry, the contractors having established here their grand depôt, &c. &c.; great crowding and bustling in the streets, occasioned partly by this circumstance, partly by the presence of the Duc de Berri and his troops, and partly by an unusual influx of travellers. Moreover, I remember that we got a most delicious omelet and bottle of very fine Sauterne at the Maison d’Autriche, for which (_garçon_ included) we paid only five francs; whilst, _en revanche_, as it were, we had to pay eight to the villain of a carrier for the feed of bad oats which our horses would not eat; that we saddled them ourselves, and sallied from Alost, expecting, in due time and without _contre-temps_, to reach St Gille; that we actually arrived within a mile of Lebbeke, the spire of whose church was closely seen by us above the trees, and towards which we attempted a short cut, which attempt ended in losing ourselves, and wandering about for an hour within 800 yards of St Gille, and always with the spire of Lebbeke in view, without being able to reach one place or the other; and that there we might have wandered till doomsday, had we not fortunately fallen in with a patrol (foot) of _gens-d’armés_, who put us into the right way--such is the intricacy of this country, intersected as it is by lanes and ditches, like network, and the view confined to the neighbouring field by the multitudinous little woods. We got home! _Chez moi_, things went on so comfortably that I was quite happy, my worthy host and his spouse treating me and mine quite as part of the family. Of Monsieur, however, I did not see very much, for every morning, immediately after breakfast, he went to his office in Dendermonde, where he remained all day, and he never ventured another soirée with our party. The last year (1814) my position in their _ménage_ had been occupied by a French colonel, of whom they spoke in the highest terms, always winding up with, “Ah! il était brave garçon, celui là.” When taking leave of them, which the approach of English troops rendered necessary, he added to his adieux, “Mais pour l’année prochaine;” and both these good people confidently expected to see him again, setting it down as certain that the moment the Emperor advanced the English would hasten to their ships, never dreaming that we could resist _him_. So slipped time away, and my present comfort approached its end.

_May 1st._--I still slept, when, at five o’clock in the morning, our sergeant-major aroused me to read a note brought by an orderly hussar. It was most laconic--_la voici_: “Captain Mercer’s troop of horse-artillery will march to Strytem without delay. Signed,” &c. &c.

Where is Strytem? and for what this sudden move? These were questions to which I could get no answer. The hussar knew nothing, and the people about me less. One thing was positive, and that was, that we must be under weigh instanter, and pick out Strytem as best we might. The sergeant-major, therefore, was despatched to give the alert; and having given the hussar a receipt in full for his important despatch, I proceeded to clothe my person for the journey, having hitherto been _en chemise_. As the trumpeter was lodged in a house close by with my own grooms, the “boot-and-saddle” quickly reverberated through the village, and set its whole population in movement. A gentle tap at my door announced a visitor. What was my surprise on opening it!--there was Madame la Juge _tout en déshabillé_, evidently just tumbled out of bed, and apparently much agitated. Such a scene I did not expect.

“Ah, Monsieur, vous allez partis!” and she actually began to sob and cry like a child. Was she serious, or was this acting? If the latter, she certainly played her part so well that I could not but give her credit for being in earnest. It is so delightful to believe one’s self interesting to a fine woman. Advancing my toilette, I tried at the same time to moderate this outbreak of feeling. She only wept the more. Meantime M. le Juge arrived on the stage, his old blue frock carelessly thrown on, and his nether garment occupying both his hands, one holding it up, and the other arranging it, the eternal green cap stuck on his head, hardly yet quite awake--unwashed, uncombed: the good man did not present the most amiable figure by the side of his neat consort.

Our people were not accustomed to delay, and the road in front of the house was already a scene of bustle from the assembling of the detachments lying nearer home. Although still lachrymose, Madame did not stand idle; but, seeing my servant sufficiently employed packing my portmanteau, set about preparing breakfast, to which I soon sat down, whilst the worthy couple waited on me, recommending this and that, and pressing me to eat, much in the manner of two fond parents hanging over the early meal of their darling boy, about to return to school by the expected coach. I could not but feel grateful for so much kindness, and consequently sorrow at so soon leaving them; and so this breakfast was rather a melancholy one, although the morning sun did shine so bright. The good people were unceasing in their regrets, and repeatedly made me promise that, if I remained in the country, I would pay them another visit--a promise I was never able to fulfil, however.

To my questions respecting Strytem, Monsieur could give no satisfactory answers. “It lay in a very fine country, somewhere in the neighbourhood of Brussels; and we had better take the road to that city in the first instance, and trust for further information to the peasantry as we went along.”

These people are singularly ignorant in this respect, having no knowledge, generally speaking, of any place more than two or three miles from home. Monsieur, however, invited me to follow him to his study--a small room all in a litter--over the gateway, and there, after some hunting amongst books, old clothes, &c. &c., he rummaged out the mutilated fragment of an old but very excellent map, which he insisted on my putting into my _sabretache_, which I did, and still keep for his sake.

At length the moment of departure arrived, the parade was formed, my horse at the door. The tears of Madame flowed afresh as she embraced me. Monsieur led me by the hand to the gateway. Here the great coarse Flemish cook, the corner of her apron applied to her eyes, for she also wept (at the departure of my groom, I suspect), came running out, her clumsy _sabots_ with their trimmings of rabbit skin clattering along the stone passage like the hoofs of a cart-horse. My servant had made her a present for her assistance, in her eyes so magnificent that she could hardly express her gratitude, and so poured on me a shower of thanks and blessings, and recommendations to the protection of saints and saintesses, with a volubility which her usual taciturn, phlegmatic manner had not led me to expect. “_Prepare to mount!_” “_Mount!_” The trumpets sound a march, and waiving a last adieu to the group at the gate of my late home, I turn my back on it for ever, perhaps. The men were in high spirits, and horses fat as pigs and sleek as moles--thanks to rest, good stabling, and abundance of _trèf_. Most of the peasants on whom many of our men had been billeted accompanied them to the parade, and it was interesting to witness the kindness with which they shook hands at parting, and the complacency with which, patting the horses on the neck, they scanned them all over, as if proud of their good condition. And yet these were Napoleonists, according to our Juge. For my part, I believe they were utterly indifferent as to whether they lived under the rule of Napoleon or the house of Orange, so long as their agricultural labours were not interrupted: and this alone, I suspect, was the cause of their aversion to being militiamen.

Passing through Lebbeke, we found the three brigades of 9-pounders also getting on march, and the whole village astir. The officers told us their orders were to march direct to Brussels, and they were fully persuaded the French army had advanced.

For about seven miles the road lay through a country differing little from what we had hitherto seen; but then it became suddenly hilly. Ascending the first long but not very steep ascent, we were assailed by a host of beggars, who had stationed themselves here to take advantage of the slow pace at which carriages were obliged to ascend the hill. These were the first I recollect having seen in the country. The ragged boys accompanied the column to the top of the hill, endeavouring to excite, if not compassion, at least admiration of the agility with which they rolled themselves along alternately on hands and feet, like so many wheels--a feat that procured them some coppers.

The country had now totally changed its character; still fertile, highly cultivated, and abundantly populous, yet presenting scenery of a much more interesting nature. Fine swells enabled one to obtain, from time to time, most charming views of the rich distance, instead of, as hitherto, being confined to a few hundred yards of meadow, shut up, as the flat country was, by trees and small copses.

Villages and large farms appeared in all directions, intermingled with extensive woods; the fields exhibited the richest exuberance of crops--wheat, rye, hops, buckwheat, &c., with their lighter tints relieving the more sombre tones of the woodlands. Here the spire of a village church, there the conical roofs and quaint architecture of a chateau, peered above the foliage of the woods, and increased the interest of the scene. To me this change was delightful. I thought I had never seen anything half so rich as the fine landscape spread before me when I turned to look back on gaining the first summit. The height, however, was not sufficient to allow me, at this distance, in a country so thickly wooded, to see Dendermonde again, though my eye eagerly sought it. The large village of Assche (town, I should call it, being marked bourg in the map) crowned this hill, and here we found a battery of Belgian Horse-Artillery in quarters. The men lounging about in undress, or without their jackets, without any appearance of a move, induced us to believe our own was, after all, only another change of quarters--and we were right. The people here knew Strytem, which they said was only a few miles distant, to the southward of the road we were on. Accordingly I despatched an officer to precede us, and make the necessary arrangements for our reception; at the same time quitting the chaussée, we plunged into a villanous cross-road, all up and down, and every bottom occupied by a stream crossed by bridges of loose planks, which to us were rather annoying from their apparent insecurity, as well as from the boggy state of the ground for some yards at either end of them. However, if the road was bad, the beauty of the country through which it led made ample amends. Descending from the hill on which Assche is situated, we travelled for two or three miles through a bottom, between two nearly parallel ridges, whose slopes exhibited all the luxuriance of vegetation in splendid crops of grain, &c., and magnificent trees, so peculiar to this country, whilst an almost continued wood occupied their summits. This part of our route reminded me strongly of the valley in which High-Wycombe lies, though there nothing like this exuberance is seen. About a mile, as it proved, from Strytem, for we had not as yet seen anything like a village, we ascended the hill again, and were continuing along the summit when a peasant, in blue smock-frock and white night-cap, came running after us with a scrap of paper in his hand, which he presented to me with a most profound bow, doffing at the same time his dirty cap. A few lines in pencil from Dr Bell informed me that the bearer would lead us to Strytem; and he by signs--for he spoke no French--gave us to understand that we must turn back, having passed the road leading thither. Accordingly a countermarch, by unlimbering, took place, and, following our guide, we descended into a most secluded little valley, green and lovely, the bottom being principally meadow, everywhere surrounded by stately elms. The road, however, became worse than ever--deep tenacious mud, sadly broken up. After marching a short distance we passed a wheel-wright’s shop; then came to a broader space, where stood a small mean-looking church, a miserable cabaret, a forge, two very large farm establishments, with a few wretched-looking cottages;--this, our guide gave us to understand, was Strytem. Bell’s note spoke of a chateau at the point we were to make for, but here was nothing of the sort. All seemed disappointment, for the miserable place itself was so different from the fine spacious streets and substantial houses of all the villages we had hitherto seen, that one could scarcely imagine it to be the same country. Our guide, however, led on, and after passing this poor collection of dwellings, a high stone wall bounding the road to the left, with a wide gateway in the centre, announced the chateau, which was so completely shut in by the woods, &c., that the first glimpse we got of it was on entering these gates. A spacious green court sloped down to the building, a dreary-looking old pile of brick, forming three sides of a square, and surrounded by a broad moat--nearly as green as the court, from the aquatic weeds floating on its stagnant water. Arched doors; high but narrow windows, composed of small panes set in lead, and encased in heavy stone frames; lofty stepped gables, and a tower occupying one angle of the court, with a conical roof surmounted by an iron cross and weather-cock, gave it a most venerable and somewhat imposing aspect. The sombre effect, however, was in some measure relieved by the lively tints of roses and rich verdure of the broad leaves of a vine trained over a trellis along the edge of the moat, as well as the fine fruit-trees everywhere covering the walls of the front court. A broad gravel-drive descended to the moat, which was crossed by a stone bridge, substantial, but not ornamental. On our right were stables, &c., for about half-way down the court; on the left the enormous roofs of barns and farm-buildings appeared over the wall, and beyond them, again, the rather inelegant spire of the village church. An arched doorway communicated on this side with the farmyard. Behind the chateau the view was bounded by the tufted and feathery masses of a superb avenue of beeches and a hill covered with wood seen through the few openings between them, relieving well the reddish sombre tone and formal outlines of the building. Every feature of this place is strongly impressed on my memory as I then beheld it for the first time, not without emotions of disgust; for though rather a picturesque object to look at, I could not suppress a shudder at the idea of its becoming my habitation for an indefinite time. Nothing do I regret more than not having made a sketch of it from this side, although I did several from other points.

The road was so narrow, and the turn so sharp, that it required all the dexterity of our drivers to get decently into the court with their six-horse teams. They did, however, effect it without carrying away the gate-posts, to the no small amazement of some half-dozen boors, whom the novelty of arrival had drawn together, and we finally formed a very compact little park, three pieces and their ammunition-waggons on each side of the central path. The _corps de garde_ was established in the loft over the stables in which were lodged the officers’ horses; and the rest of the troop were billeted on the neighbouring farms, which, in general, were so large that they took a subdivision, or thirty-two horses, each, and, if I mistake not, that adjoining the chateau a whole division of sixty-four horses. Having despatched this business, we proceeded to examine our own quarters. The old gardener, a tall meagre figure, with a venerable grey head and good-humoured physiognomy, but somewhat bent by age, accompanied by his daughter, a pale melancholy-looking young woman, met us on the bridge, the keys of his fortalice in one hand and his dirty _bonnet de nuit_ in the other. (Be it here remarked that although neatness and cleanliness characterise the dwellings of the Flemish peasantry, yet are they not over and above particular in this respect as regards their own persons.) As he could speak nothing but Flemish, Mademoiselle came to officiate as his interpreter, but the _patois_ in which she expressed herself was so unintelligible that, after listening for some time to her long-winded story, and comprehending nothing more of it than the constantly-recurring “Mon père dit,” &c., our politeness gave way, and we begged that the doors might be forthwith thrown open. The burden of her song or chant, for such it was, seemed to be an endeavour to dissuade us from our purpose of lodging there, though I could not well comprehend why. Leaving, then, the good man to replace his bonnet, and Mademoiselle to explain to him something or another, we proceeded to examine the interior, in order to select our rooms. The chateau had been uninhabited for many years, and, though not ruinous, was in a very dilapidated state. Nothing could be more chillingly repulsive than the vast flagged hall into which we first entered. Several doors led from this, right and left, into suites of apartments, and one, low and arched, opposite the entrance, opened on a long bridge leading over the moat to the garden and pleasure-grounds, &c. This hall was totally devoid of furniture. We found the rooms on the ground-floor large, lofty, and of good proportions, but only feebly illuminated by high windows sunk deep in the wall, and of which the heavy stone mullions intercepted nearly as much light as entered between them. The walls were hung with tapestry so ancient and so much decayed that the figures, landscapes, &c., by which it had once been ornamented, were nearly obliterated. In some rooms old family portraits occupied the places of the wainscot panels, particularly over the doors. The only furniture in any of them was a few ponderous tables, and some high-backed equally ponderous chairs, having both seats and backs stuffed and covered with tapestry. On the floor above, a large corridor or hall--for it was directly over and corresponded in size with the one below--was hung round with full-length portraits of the Van Volden family (to whom the domain belonged), male and female. Some of these were common enough; but there were others evidently the production of no ordinary pencil--one in particular, a lady habited in a costume such as prevailed about our Charles II.’s time--a splendidly beautiful creature of some two or three and twenty years of age, painted in a most masterly style; and, from being in a much more magnificent frame than any of the others, apparently a person of higher consideration. “_Mon-père-dit_” (as we had christened the gardener’s pallid daughter), who accompanied us through the rooms, could give no information respecting this fair dame--all she knew was that she had been a person of very high rank, and, she believed, an ancestress of Madame la Baronne, the present proprietress. By the way, Madame Van Volden, Baronne Von Lombeke et Strytem (such were her titles), was at this time residing in Brussels, where she had a grand mansion--Rue de Dominicans. She possessed also another estate at or near Vilvorde, between which and her town residence she divided her time, so that her Strytem tenants saw her very rarely. Her son, being _maire_ of the commune, paid an occasional visit to the village, but then always put up at the farmhouse, so that the chateau had long been locked up and quite neglected. To return from this digression. Having visited the upper apartments, all which were as dismal as those below, we proceeded to choose our quarters, much to the chagrin of Mademoiselle _Mon-père-dit_, who had, no doubt, entertained hopes that the repulsive appearance of things would have deterred us from taking up our residence there. I selected a large salon, immediately off the hall, on the ground-floor. It might have been about 30 feet by 26 or 28, very lofty, with an immense gaping fireplace, but without grate. Two great stone-cased windows looked into the front court, a third across the moat and towards the woods behind the chateau. There were three visible doors--the one leading into the great hall, a second into a sort of vestibule or small hall, whence a staircase ascended to the apartments of the right wing, and the third into a long, narrow, but lofty room, in one corner of which I placed my mattress on an old settee. There was also a door from this room into the vestibule, and beyond that another suite of apartments, in which our surgeon established himself. The walls of my salon, like most of the others, were covered with tapestry, and in the compartments between the windows, over the doors, &c., were grim-looking portraits of _ci-devant_ Van Voldens, each having the name and date inscribed at the bottom of it, from which I learned that most of them were of considerable antiquity; some, I think, dating 1537.

I have said that there were three _visible_ doors to this room. I had been in it some time ere, by accident, I discovered a fourth, concealed under the tapestry, leading into a very small chapel fitted up with great neatness (except the altar, which was rather gaudy), and evidently the only part of the mansion of which any care had been taken. Such was my new domicile, in which I was soon at home, although it contrasted as strongly with my late cheerful apartment at Dendermonde as that did with the gloomy hole at Ghent. Some of our people found a similar contrast, and could not refrain from grumbling. “By the Lord, gentlemen,” said old Lieutenant Ingleby, “you ought to think yourselves very fortunate in getting such a quarter. In the Peninsula the Duke himself would have thought so, and was often glad to get so good a roof over his head.” The grumblers were ashamed, and we heard no more of it. A large salon in the left wing we chose for our mess-room, and the other officers established themselves up-stairs. Fires were soon lighted above and below; servants running up and down;--all was life and movement, and the old place had not been so gay for years before. Indeed, on returning to my room after visiting the billets, there was an appearance of home and comfort about it which I did not expect. A large wood-fire blazed and crackled in the great chimney. My servant had collected chairs enough to make a show, ranged round the walls; on one of the great antique tables in the centre he had placed my writing apparatus and one or two books, together with a map of the Pays Bas I had brought from Ghent, in the anticipation of country quarters. Clean linen was airing over the back of one of the tapestry chairs, with other preparations for dressing for dinner; whilst coiled up near the blazing hearth lay my old faithful dog and constant companion for the last ten years.

Our mess-room was as much changed, and the preparations for dinner had given it quite another air to what it had when first seen. Like most of the others, it was spacious, but, unlike them, inasmuch as the windows down to the floor were in the modern French style. Of these there were only two--one looking over the garden and woods, the other over a small field or lawn, bounded on two of its sides by double rows of noble beeches, and on the other two (round which ran the road or lane leading to Brussels) by orchards, hop-grounds, &c. &c. Each had an old iron balcony, so rust-eaten that they seemed ready to drop into the water of the moat which lay below them. Over the elaborately carved antique-looking chimney-piece was a large painting of a castle, with a number of men apparently employed clearing the ditch. The floor had been swept, chairs and tables collected from different parts of the house, and one of the latter covered by a clean table-cloth, and our canteen apparatus laid out for dinner--the whole looking so much more comfortable than we expected, that even our grumblers voted the old chateau not so bad after all, as they sat themselves down to the well-covered board. For the feast, not a despicable one, as well as the arrangement of the salon, we were indebted to the indefatigable activity and unrivalled skill of our friend Karl--a worthy whom I have not yet introduced; so, by way of episode, whilst we are enjoying the good viands of his preparation, let me do so.

On the memorable night of our landing at Ostend, whilst standing on the sands, I was accosted by a very handsome youth of about eighteen or twenty, who asked if I wanted a servant. His costume indicated that he meant himself, for he wore a green livery-coat with red cuffs and collar, and a glazed hat with a cockade in it. His history was, that he had lived some time with General Vandamme, and had accompanied him to Moscow; but on returning into Saxony, although he had been a great favourite with the General, this noble personage one day deserted him most unexpectedly, leaving him, not only without money, but also without a prospect of recovering the long arrears of wages due to him--[there was a mystery in this part of the story]--and after vainly waiting in hopes still that the General might return or send for him, he had set out and found his way thus far towards France, when the chance of getting employment amongst _les officiers Anglais_ (and no doubt some of their _guinées_) had occurred to him, and I was the first he had addressed. His figure was rather under the middle size, extremely well made; face beautiful, and address perfect. Moreover, according to his own account, he was a pearl without price. He could speak five or six languages, and cook, cut and dress hair, and a thousand other things I have forgotten; but the great recommendation was a talent he had acquired, when with the French army, of _discovering_ and _appropriating_ the resources of a country--Anglicé, _plundering_. If Monsieur would but try him, he would find him so attentive, so faithful. For his part, he was sure he should soon love Monsieur--his countenance was so amiable. All would not do--I rejected him; but Leathes took a liking to and engaged him. So thenceforth he became one of us, and soon a general favourite; for although he had sounded his own trumpet, he had nowise exaggerated his qualifications, nor even told us all, for in addition he was the merriest and most kind-hearted creature I ever met with. He had an inexhaustible fund of stories and songs, and sang beautifully, and in a most sweet and melodious voice; was an admirable mimic, and amongst other things mimicked so well two flutes, that one day, at Strytem, sitting smoking my cigar on the parapet of the bridge, I actually made sure two people were playing a duet in the kitchen; but upon going thither, found only Karl, who, seated on a table, was warbling out a favourite waltz, like a robin on the house-top.

Our language he had soon added to his stock, and being now a tolerable proficient, and evidently so well suited for the office, we had at once nominated him major-domo (spite of his youth) this morning on arriving, and placed all the other servants under his directions. But although understanding and speaking English sufficiently for all common purposes, and to communicate with the other servants, he never would address any of us but in French. To return again to the course of our narrative. Our cheerful meal had been discussed with many an encomium on the provider, and the circulation of the bottle had already produced a genial exhilaration amongst our party, when the door was abruptly thrown open, and in rushed our friend Karl, holding his sides, and unable to speak for laughter. “Why, Karl, what the devil’s the matter now?” “C’est l’adjoint, monsieur, qui demande à vous parler.” “Well, what of that? Is there anything very comical in this visit?”--“Excusez, monsieur, il est si drôl--est ce que je lui ferai entrer, monsieur,” and the merry young dog tried to compose his features. I was about to go out to meet this functionary and learn his business, but the whole mess cried out with one voice to bring him in--curiosity being excited by Karl’s obstreperous laughter; so I desired him to be admitted. Karl soon returned, ushering in with most ludicrous gravity the worthy _maire_ and his cortège (for it appeared he had not come alone), who, each as he crossed the threshold, making a profound salaam, followed his leader until they were all drawn up in line across the end of the room. The appearance of the party was certainly comic, and for a few moments we contemplated each other in silent amazement. The principal figure of this group--he on the right of the line, Mynheer Jan Evenpoel, _adjoint-maire_--was a short, fat, square-built man, with a head like a pumpkin deeply set (_zabullida_, the Spaniards would say) between his broad high shoulders; countenance stolidity itself; little pig-eyes, half hid in the swell of his fat cheeks and the thick overhanging brow; nose pudsy, resembling a lump of brown clay thrown against his face more than a nose; a monstrous wide (now half-open) mouth, showing within a row of fangs standing apart like palisades; a great fat dew-lap; the whole phiz finished by two enormous projecting ears. Such was the object that had excited so powerfully the risible faculties of young Karl. Our silent gaze seemed to paralyse him. There he stood, evidently endeavouring to assume some sort of an air of office, but trembling visibly, and as visibly perspiring from his extreme nervousness, twirling his hat in his hand, looking timidly, first at me, then at the formidable party round the table, then inquiringly glancing at his own party. The poor man’s evident anxiety must have excited pity, had it not more forcibly excited our risibility, as well as that of Karl.

Three peasants, heavy-looking men, with somewhat more intelligence in their countenances, yet decidedly equally alarmed, arranged themselves next to Mynheer Evenpoel. These, as well as their chief, were all arrayed in their roast-beef suits--jackets of cotton, unmentionables of black or bottle-green velveteen, blue-and-white-striped cotton stockings, clumsy silver knee and shoe buckles,--such was their costume. The eternal _bonnet de nuit_ for this time had given place to rather smart round hats, with a profusion of plush on them. Drawn up on their left stood the old gardener, his two sons--stout peasants, clad something like, though more humbly than, the rest--and Mademoiselle “_Mon-père-dit_,” also in her best bib and tucker, trying to look amiable, but evidently most particularly anxious. Lastly, with a brisk, self-satisfied air, stepped in one of the most extraordinary-looking personages of the whole party--a diminutive spare figure with a complexion like mahogany, but upright, and of a most martial bearing. He was clad in a short green uniform coat, with large copper buttons decorated with the imperial eagle of France, green pantaloons, and an enormous leathern cocked-hat, which he touched by way of salute on entering, but, soldier-like, retained on his head. In his hand he carried a sort of javelin, or short hunting-spear. This dignitary, a person of most decided importance, passing the others, stepped briskly up and placed himself at the elbow of the trembling magistrate, who drew a long breath, and gave unequivocal testimony of satisfaction at seeing his tutelary genius by his side.

The important personage just described was the _garde-champêtre_--or _garde-village_, as he was more frequently called--a sort of police officer placed by Napoleon in every village of his empire. I never could ascertain precisely the position and duties of these people; they seemed to be chief police officers, and the _maires_ paid them great deference, seldom acting in extraordinary cases without their advice and concurrence. They acted as gamekeepers and constables, billeted troops, and exercised a general surveillance in the commune. No doubt they noted and made reports of all they saw and heard, so that H. I. Majesty had an authorised spy in every village. They were well paid, and the situation appeared to be a comfortable retreat for old soldiers, for such we always found them to be. Our present friend (called familiarly by the peasantry Petit Jean) had served in a regiment of the line under Marshal Suchet in Catalonia, and although still only a middle-aged man, had been pensioned on account of having lost two fingers of his left hand, and placed here for life as _garde-village_. Well, the whole cortège has entered the room, and ranged themselves in line across the lower end of it, close to the wall; the shuffling of feet has ceased, and a profound silence prevails. We sit staring at them, and wondering what the deuce they interrupt us for. Bowing and scraping renewed spontaneously; again silence, but various glances are shot at and signs made to Mynheer Evenpoel, which in his fright he utterly disregards, and stands like an owl, without a movement except the evident shaking of his limbs. After a while old Ingleby, who had been leaning over the back of his chair eyeing the poor devil, utters in his usual gruff Yorkshire way, “_Well, sir?_” without reflecting on the fact of his English not being understood. The tone is enough, however, and it determines the party to bolder measures--the quaking magnate is actually shoved forward to the table. Petit Jean also advances, and again places himself at the poor man’s elbow; his right arm, outstretched, bears upon the upright javelin, the butt of which he plants firmly, and with an air, on the floor; in his mutilated left hand he holds up to us an unfolded sheet of foolscap, which we soon ascertain to be inscribed by certain characters calculated to extract hay and corn, &c., from the lofts and granaries of our clients--in short, the requisition for forage and provisions, &c., of our quartermaster-general addressed to the commune of Strytem. The brown little warrior looks complacently round the company as though he would say, “And I also am a soldier; _Moi!_” After repeated applications of a very scanty blue cotton handkerchief to his front--_pour essuyer la sueur_--the worthy magistrate at length, in a trembling, hesitating voice, opens his oration, gains courage as he goes on, warms, and even becomes rather energetic towards the conclusion of nearly a quarter of an hour’s talk, to which we have listened, but understood not a word. Mynheer salaams, wipes his front, and stands, mouth half-open, attending the applause due to his exertions, and our reply to his statements, whatever they may be. Petit Jean comprehends the dilemma, steps forward with a military salute, places himself again in an attitude, and, whilst Mynheer stares and seems to envy his self-possession, requests permission of messieurs les officiers to explain what M. l’Adjoint would wish to say, and goes off at score--“M. Evenpoel only expresses the sentiments of the whole commune when he assures messieurs les officiers that the arrival of the brave English has diffused throughout its population the most lively joy. Les Anglais are a people as generous as they are brave, and M. l’Adjoint rests satisfied that under the protection of M. le Commandant the peaceful tranquillity of the commune will remain undisturbed.” Here, at a glance from Petit Jean, M. Evenpoel and the whole cortège salaam together, repeating with one consent, “Mais c’est vrai--c’est vrai! Oui, M. le Commandant, c’est vrai çà!” Petit Jean resumes. “_But_, M. le Commandant, we sensibly regret the poverty of our commune, and are _au déséspoir_ that Milor Wellington should have sent his brave soldiers to so miserable a place--a place so incapable of affording them the good cheer (bon traitement) that they so richly merit, whilst the surrounding country abounds in rich and populous villages, fully adequate to lodge them comfortably (convenablement) and to supply all their wants. It was only _l’année passée_ that this poor commune was oppressed and impoverished by being obliged to provide for a corps of Prussians during several months. These people, undisciplined and _bien méchants_, plundered us all without restraint, and wantonly consumed our whole substance--hardly leaving wherewithal to support our miserable existence. Thus ruined and impoverished, M. le Commandant, we feel assured, will see that, in spite of our good wishes, we are in an impossibility of supplying the immense rations of forage, &c., here demanded;” and here, taking off his chapeau and making a most profound salaam, he again flourishes before us the obnoxious sheet of foolscap, whilst M. l’Adjoint, beginning to fidget, indicates an inclination to renew his harangue amidst a general buzz of approbation, and a reiteration of “C’est vrai, mon commandant, c’est bien vrai.” M. le Commandant silences them by observing, “That a soldier must obey orders--that it is for his general to think and investigate--that Milor Wellington, or those acting for him, had no doubt sufficiently informed themselves as to the resources of the country before they ordered troops thither--that, having done so, right or wrong, these troops must live--that it is evident from the good case of all present, particularly of M. le Maire, that the commune did produce something to eat and drink;--consequently, the gentlemen are invited to allow our partaking with them, or we must help ourselves, which would be bien facheux.” A general grunt--“Ah, mon Dieu!”--accompanied by deep sighs on the part of Mademoiselle “_Mon-père-dit_.” I should have stated that M. le Maire and a farmer named Walsdragen were the only two ignorant of French. The former of these had profited by an offered chair, and seated himself during the oration of Petit Jean and my answer. Hearing the concert of sighs and groans, he opens his little pig-eyes to the utmost, and casting them about on the surrounding group, seems to demand an explanation. Petit Jean communicates the awful purport of my answer. Agitation recommences, and I am conjured, for pity’s sake, at least to delay until an express be sent to Brussels to acquaint Milor Vellington of the utter impossibility of so large a body of men and horses being supported by so poor a place. Poor simple people! I should like to have witnessed the reception of the delegate. M. le Commandant observes that M. le Maire may do as to him seemeth best, but cannot be so unreasonable as to expect that we and our horses should wait for supper until his messenger return--ergo, as it is already late, M. le Maire is again invited to lose no more time in talking, but to proceed forthwith in collecting the articles demanded. But, to make a long story short, after a deal of action and whispering in a corner of the room, they made a proposition to furnish one-half the quantity. And here it flashed across me, that these people must be dealt with like the Turkish rayah, who, after protesting his incapability to produce a single egg for a whole hour, at last, upon the application of the Mikmander’s whip, brings out a whole store of good things. So I cut the matter short by sending Karl for the quartermaster, who was without awaiting the result of the Maire’s visit. The old veteran enters, head erect, shoulders thrown back, and steel scabbard jangling on the floor as he advanced to the table, and silently made his salute. The assembled rustics gape and stare at him in evident alarm, Mynheer trembles, Petit Jean draws himself up, as if imitating old Hall’s military bearing, whilst I, pointing him out to the assembled multitude, inform them that in five minutes he will proceed at the head of a foraging-party to rummage their barns, granaries, and larders, and help himself. The quartermaster, having received his orders, makes his salute, without deigning even a glance at the Maire and party, amongst whom a precious scene of confusion now takes place, amidst which out they all trundle after old Hall, without even the ceremony of a parting salaam; and we, replenishing our glasses, drank success to our foray, rejoicing in having got rid of the noise. Our quiet, however, was of very short duration, for in the court Hall was already assembling his party, and neither understood their remonstrances nor attended to their grimaces; so with one accord back they came upon us, bursting into the room as unceremoniously as they had just left it, bellowing like so many bulls. A new negotiation opened, and terminated with a promise that everything should be brought in if I would give them _two hours_, after they had vainly struggled for daybreak--and away they went. The two hours had nearly elapsed, and we were still at table, when Petit Jean, foaming with rage, burst into the room unaccompanied: “Ah, mais ces faquins là bas--ils ne font que se moquer de vous et de votre bonté, Monsieur le Commandant. Mais excusez, monsieur, je suis militaire, moi! et je me suis indigne de voir des militaires se laisser tromper par des vilains paysans; qui qu’ils sont, connaissent très bien l’accueil q’ils auraient reçus à la main d’un officier Prussien, ou même Français. Avec permission, monsieur, je m’en vais amener avec moi vos fourrageurs faire un fourrage militairement;” and, without waiting for an answer, the little hero bolted, and following to the hall-door, there we saw him sure enough march out of the gate perched upon one of our immense gun-horses, looking for all the world like a monkey on a dromedary. In two hours bread, forage, and all--nay, more than we had demanded--were brought in.

Meantime our sergeant of the guard comes in for orders as to what he shall do with the mayor. “The mayor?--what have you to do with the mayor?” “Why, we have him safe in the guard-room, sir.” “The devil you have! and by whose order?” “Why, sir, we thought it best to keep him until the foraging-party with _Pitty Jan_ returned, least he might try to hinder ’em.” Here was a dilemma, should the old man complain to headquarters. However, on sending an officer to release him, and explain the mistake, Mynheer was too frightened to think of anything but rejoicing at gaining his liberty. Perhaps conscience told him that he deserved punishment for the imposition he had attempted to practise on us.

Petit Jean from that moment became our great friend and ally. On almost all occasions he sided with the soldiers in any little difference between them and the boors. On one occasion a complaint had been made to me, by a man who lived near the gate, that one of our gunners had not only plundered his potato-garden, but had also otherwise ill-treated him. On my going to investigate the business on the spot, it turned out that he had struck the gunner. Petit Jean, who had accompanied me officially, on hearing this, turned suddenly on the fellow, “You sacré cochon! frapper un militaire; sacré vilain homme! Quoi!--un vil paysan frapper un militaire? Ah, que cela me révolte!”--and seizing a stake from the hedge, foaming with unfeigned anger, he fell on the poor devil, and fairly chased him out of sight, belabouring him all the way. What English soldier would ever take up the cudgels against his own countryman because the French soldier was his brother-in-arms? Whenever his patrol duty did not call him out, he was sure to be found in the guard-room, or somewhere amongst the men. He might certainly have been a spy in the camp, for Buonaparte had most accurate information respecting the state, positions, and numbers of our army, part of which no doubt was communicated by these _gardes-champêtres_, who, as before mentioned, were all old French soldiers, and did not conceal their attachment to the Emperor. Spy or no spy, Petit Jean was always extremely obliging, and frequently of most essential service to us. Our equipment was in every way too perfect to leave any care as to what might be reported of our state; and as to future movements, we were as ignorant of them as Napoleon himself. But to return to our story. The row was all over, our mess party broken up, and I retired to my room; but, alas! on getting into bed I found sleep impossible--the moat under my window was peopled with millions of frogs, and such was the horrid croaking of these little wretches, that sleep was out of the question, and the Van Voldens were avenged.