_May 29th._--Grand cavalry review near Grammont, in the fine meadows
on the banks of the Dender, for the use of which, it is said, as much
as £400 or £500 were paid.
The day was lovely, and we marched from Strytem in the cool of the
morning. The roads, although pretty good, were in places so cut up by
the passage of other troops before us, that it became necessary at
times to halt until our men filled up the holes with brushwood and
earth. About noon we arrived on the ground, than which nothing could
be more favourable for the purpose.
The Dender, flowing through a broad tract of rich meadow-land
perfectly flat, makes a bend from Grammont to the village of
Jedeghem, the ground on its left bank rising in a gentle slope,
whilst on the right the meadows extend back for about half a mile,
and then terminate at the foot of an abrupt wooded height, which
forms, as it were, a chord of the arc described by the river. This
was the arena chosen for the review, and a more favourable one could
scarcely have been chosen. We were formed in three lines. The first,
near the banks of the river, was composed of hussars in squadrons,
with wide intervals between them, and a battery of horse-artillery
(6-pounders) on either flank. Opposite the centre of this line was
a bridge (temporary, I believe) by which the cortège was to arrive
on the ground, descending from the village of Schendelbeke. The
second line--compact, or with only the usual squadron intervals--was
composed entirely of heavy dragoons, having two batteries--the one
of 24-pounder howitzers, the other of 9-pounders--in front of the
centre, and a battery of 9-pounders on either flank. The third was
a compact line like the second, but entirely of light dragoons,
supported also on either flank by a battery of 9-pounders.
It was a splendid spectacle. The scattered line of hussars in their
fanciful yet picturesque costume; the more sober, but far more
imposing, line of heavy dragoons, like a wall of red brick; and again
the serviceable and active appearance of the third line in their
blue uniforms, with broad lappels of white, buff, red, yellow, and
orange--the whole backed by the dark wood of the declivity already
mentioned--formed, indeed, a fine picture. There were, I understood,
about 6000 men on the field; and as I looked and admired their fine
appearance, complete equipment, and excellent horses, I wondered how
any troops could withstand their attacks, and wished Napoleon and
his chiefs could but see them as they stood. My wish was in part
gratified, for we afterwards learned beyond all question that numbers
of French officers had not only been present, but actually were so
in full uniform (many of them of high rank), and had mingled in the
cortège of the Duke, and so rode through the ranks--the safest plan
they could have pursued, it being impossible to say whether they
did or did not belong to the corps of the Duc de Berri, who, as I
said, still wore the imperial uniforms in which they had come over
to the royal party; and this was still more favoured by a ridiculous
scene which occasioned the absence of the French party from the
review. It was as follows: Arriving on the ground covered with dust,
the different corps had no sooner formed in their position, and
dismounted, than off went belts, canteens, and havresacks, and a
general brushing and scrubbing commenced; for the Duke, making no
allowance for dusty or muddy roads, expected to see all as clean as
if just turned out: accordingly, we had not only brought brushes,
&c., but even straw to wisp over the horses. The whole line was in
the midst of this business, many of the men even with jackets off,
when suddenly a forest of plumes and a galaxy of brilliant uniforms
came galloping down the slope from Schendelbeke towards the temporary
bridge. “The Duke!” “the Duke!” “the Duke’s coming!” ran along the
lines, and for a moment caused considerable bustle amongst the
people; but almost immediately this was discovered to be a mistake,
and the brushing and cleaning recommenced with more devotion than
ever; whilst the cavalcade, after slowly descending to the bridge and
debouching on the meadows, started at full gallop toward the saluting
point already marked out, the Duc de Berri, whom we now recognised,
keeping several yards ahead, no doubt that he might clearly be seen.
At this point he reined up and looked haughtily and impatiently about
him; and as we were now pretty intimate with his manner, it was easy
to see, even from our distant position, that he was in a passion. The
brushing, however, suffered no interruption, and no notice was taken
of his presence. One of his suite was now called up and despatched
to the front. What further took place I know not, but, certes! the
messenger no sooner returned than his Highness was off like a comet,
his tail streaming after him all the way up the slope, unable to keep
pace with him, for he rode like a madman, whilst a general titter
pervaded our lines as the report flew from one to the other that
Mounseer was off in a huff because we did not give him a general
salute. Many were the coarse jokes at his expense; and I was amused
at one of my drivers, who, holding up the collar from his horses
chest with one hand, whilst with the other he brushed away under it,
exclaimed, laughing aloud, “I wouldn’t be one of them ’ere French
fellows at drill upon the common to-morrow for a penny; if they’re
not properly bullyragged, I’m d----.” It turned out afterwards that
he had sent his aide-de-camp to claim the reception due to a prince
of the blood-royal, but Lord Uxbridge excused himself by saying he
had no instructions on that head, &c. &c. About two o’clock the Duke
of Wellington and Prince Blucher, followed by an immense cortège, in
which were to be seen many of the most distinguished officers and
almost every uniform in Europe, arrived on the ground. Need I say
that the foreigners were loud in praise of the martial air, fine
persons, and complete equipment of the men and horses, and of the
strength and beauty of the latter? and my vanity on that occasion was
most fully gratified, for on arriving where we stood, the Duke not
only called old Blucher’s attention to “the beautiful battery,” but,
instead of proceeding straight through the ranks, as they had done
everywhere else, each subdivision--nay, each individual horse--was
closely scrutinised, Blucher repeating continually that he had never
seen anything so superb in his life, and concluding by exclaiming,
“_Mein Gott, dere is not von orse in dies batterie wich is not goot
for Veldt Marshal_:” and Wellington agreed with him. It certainly was
a splendid collection of horses. However, except asking Sir George
Wood whose troop it was, his Grace never even bestowed a regard on
me as I followed from subdivision to subdivision. The review over,
and corps dismissed, I resigned my command to my second captain,
and proceeded direct to Ninove, Lord Uxbridge having invited all
commanding officers to meet his illustrious guests at dinner. On
repairing to the monastery, I found a numerous company assembled,
comprising some of the most distinguished characters in Europe.
The room in which we assembled, as well as the dining-room, was
of splendid dimensions, but totally void of ornament: plain white
stuccoed walls, and no furniture in the one but a few travelling
articles of our noble hosts; and in the other the dinner-table,
chairs, and benches of the most ordinary kind, evidently brought in
for the occasion. Long corridors running the whole length of the two
wings (standing at right angles to each other), with numerous rooms
of similar dimensions opening from them, seemed to be the plan of the
building. I suppose the dining-room must have been nearly 100 feet
long, nearly square, and about 18 or 20 feet high. In this the tables
were laid horse-shoe fashion. In the centre of the cross-table sat
Lord Uxbridge; on either hand Blucher and Wellington; then the Duke
of Brunswick; the hereditary Prince of Orange; his brother Prince
Frederick; Gneiseneau; Ziethen; Kleist; Dornberg; a Danish general
whose name I forget; Sir Frederick Arentschild, K.G.L. (the Duke of
Wellington’s favourite old hussar); Sir Sidney Smyth; Lords Hill,
Pack, Picton, Elly; and a host of illustrious names, foreign and
British, but not one Frenchman that I recollect. (Perhaps the affair
of the morning might have caused the absence of the Duc de Berri,
&c.) What names!--names familiar to every ear in the history of those
exciting times--names we pronounce with respect regarding those who
bear them as being removed above everyday life. But to have sat at
table with them, to have heard them called out in the familiarity of
everyday conversation--how strange! One can hardly imagine himself
thoroughly awake on such occasions. But to return.
It was my good fortune to sit between Colonel Sir F. Arentschild and
another no less celebrated officer of the German Legion, Lieutenant
Strenuwitz, a Pole by birth, who had signalised himself on more than
one occasion in the Peninsula by attacking and capturing outposts.
We broke up at an early hour (too early, I think, for old Blucher,
who seemed to enjoy himself much), and retired to another room, where
coffee was served, and after some little conversation we dispersed.
In leaving the dining-room the Duke of Wellington stopped for a few
minutes to converse with old Arentschild, and, pinned in a corner by
them, I had time to contemplate, well and closely, our great leader.
At that time he certainly had not a grey hair in his head.
It was getting dusk when I mounted my horse to return home, and the
people were beginning to discharge squibs and crackers on the street
of Ninove; the houses were decorated with garlands of laurel and
green boughs, so that everything wore an air of festivity.
_May 30th._--How delightful the tranquillity of Strytem appears after
the stir and bustle of yesterday! The fields look more gay, the
woods and pleasure-grounds more lovely than ever. Yesterday morning
was passed amidst the din of arms and pomp of war--amidst crowds
of crested warriors and the clang of martial music--the evening in
festivity, amidst magnates of the earth.
How differently has this lovely day glided by! The morning I
passed in a quiet peaceable ride amidst the charming scenery of
the neighbourhood--wandering through corn-fields, orchards, and
hop-grounds, and exploring the shady recesses of the Bois de
Liederkerke; the evening in voluptuous indolence, sauntering up and
down under the magnificent beeches of the great avenue, indulging
in fairy dreams, and listening to the rural sound that, from time
to time, broke on the stillness of the hour, whilst the smoke of
my cigar hung in wreaths around me as I occasionally stopped to
contemplate the scene. No living soul interrupted the solitude,
except once the gardener’s son, in his blue smock-frock, wooden
shoes, and dirty night-cap, with a long rusty old gun under his arm
and a short pipe in his mouth, crossed the avenue, marched up the
central path of the garden, and disappeared amongst the thickets of
the _pleasaunce_ beyond. He went, I knew (for he always said so),
to the Chasse aux Lièvres for the supply of our table; but as that
was badly supplied, we might have fancied our gamekeeper a bad shot,
had not our worthy doctor one evening (for what purpose he could
best say) also taken a ramble in the said _pleasaunce_, where, to
his infinite surprise, he stumbled upon our chasseur making love
to his sister’s _adjointe_ (a great Flanderkin of a Maritornes),
which instantly explained the deficiency of supply. There he went
then, as I said, for either purpose--his short pipe leaving a long
gossamer-like film of smoke behind him. And this digression brings me
to the close of this delightful day.
The genial month of May thus terminated amidst the delightful
enjoyments of a country life, and June commenced under happy
auspices, little dreaming of the far different scenes we were
destined to witness ere yet another month had passed.
The only event that marked this period of our tranquil, even-flowing
existence was the removal of our 1st division from the chateau farm,
in compliance with the urgent request of the farmer (Walsdragen), to
the pretty village of Yseringen, about a mile off, on the hill above
us. I regretted this separation of the troop, but could not withstand
the poor man’s solicitations, who expected every hour his wife’s
_accouchement_. As for the division, it benefited by the change.
The officer (Leathes) got most excellent quarters in a comfortable
well-furnished chateau, whilst his men and horses were equally well
lodged in the adjoining farm. Poor Walsdragen, however, could not
enjoy this relief, for, a few days after, the impending event took
place, and he lost his wife. I shall not forget in a hurry this
melancholy circumstance, for I charged myself with unkindness towards
him in his affliction by having so long withstood his solicitations
to be relieved of our people. I was walking in the avenue, as usual,
after dinner, enjoying my weed; the evening was calm and serene,
the sun just setting; no sound disturbed the stillness save the
hum of insects or the croaking of the frogs. Suddenly one of the
most terrific shrieks I ever heard burst forth, until the woods
rang again. At first, startled as I was, there was no saying whence
the sound came, and taking my cigar from my mouth, I had scarcely
assumed a listening attitude when, again and again, it was repeated
in a manner so appalling as to make my very flesh creep. It evidently
proceeded from the farm; but what could occasion such horrid cries?
This time they were succeeded by loud lamentations of many voices,
male and female. I hurried towards the farm, hardly knowing what to
conjecture. The first idea that flashed on me was an irruption of
some French party, who were plundering, murdering, &c. &c., and this,
in the first instance, seemed in some measure borne out when several
men, without hats, came rushing out of the farmyard with lamentable
cries, and passing by me without notice, proceeded to the bridge of
the chateau, and there, throwing themselves on their knees before an
image of the Virgin and child standing in a niche outside the chapel
already mentioned, commenced a most dolorous mixture of lamentation
and half-chanted supplication--part of a litany, I presume. I stood
somewhat puzzled. After a few minutes of this devotional exercise,
one of them ran away and brought a spade, with which he cut a large
sod, and the whole party hurried back to the house, carrying it
with them. At this moment St Cyr (one of our farmers, and the best
amongst them) came up, and, making Mynheer Walsdragen’s compliments,
reported from him, and at his desire, the death of his wife, which
had just taken place--a strange piece of etiquette at such a moment.
The sod, I learned, was to put under her head, an ancient practice
invariably observed.
My first idea of an irruption of the enemy did not seem just now
quite so improbable, for we almost daily heard a good deal of firing
in the direction of Mons, and the peasantry were continually bringing
accounts of movements of the French army, none of which ever proved
true; and the firing, we afterwards learned, proceeded from the
practice of the Dutch or Belgic artillery at Mons.
Our host, the Baron van Lombeke, paid us a visit about the beginning
of this month for the first time. The ostensible motive for this
visit was an inspection of the roads, which he said were immediately
to be put in a complete state of repair. He stayed three or four days
with us, during which his excursions never extended further than the
major’s or the curé’s, so that he saw but little of the roads--which,
together with the circumstance of his having arrived only a few days
before from Paris, induced a suspicion that his real business was
of a very different nature--possibly to ascertain the strength and
positions of our cavalry corps, or something of the sort.
It seemed odd enough receiving a man as a guest in his own house;
our servants prepared a room for him, and he was waited upon by the
old gardener. Of course he dined, or rather supped, with us; for
I believe he usually partook of the curé’s dinner at one o’clock.
Although what we should call rather vulgar-looking, yet we found
M. le Baron exceedingly well-informed, perfectly the gentleman in
manners, and upon the whole an agreeable acquisition to our little
party. His gardens, and everything about the place, he begged us to
consider as our own. We had done so already; however, we took the
thing as it was meant--a mere compliment; but we felt that there was
more sincerity in the contrast he drew between ourselves and the
Prussians, and the repeated assertions of his satisfaction in having
his chateau occupied by us instead of by them.
Finding me in want of books, he kindly promised to send me some from
Brussels; and I was agreeably surprised at his punctuality, when, a
day or two after his departure, the old gardener brought me the five
volumes of ‘The Hermit of the Chaussée d’Antin’--a work new to me,
and to which I was indebted for several most agreeable evenings.
The day marked for our advance into France now approached; and
although no confirmation of the rumour reached us, yet we began to
prepare for it as confidently as if already given out in general
orders. Meantime, as will be seen, our friends beyond the border were
scrutinising our intentions pretty closely.
It was on the evening of the 15th June, and about sunset or a
little later, that an officer of hussars rode into the village
of Yseringen, Leathes being at the time at dinner with me at our
chateau. He was dressed as our hussars usually were when riding
about the country--blue frock, scarlet waistcoat laced with gold,
pantaloons, and forage-cap of the 7th Hussars. He was mounted on a
smart pony, with plain saddle and bridle; was without sword or sash,
and carried a small whip;--in short, his costume and _monture_ were
correct in every particular. Moreover, he aped to the very life that
“devil-may-care” _nonchalant_ air so frequently characterising our
young men of fashion. Seeing some of our gunners standing at the
door of a house, he desired them to go for their officer, as he
wished to see him. They called the sergeant, who told him that the
officer was not in the village. In an authoritative tone he then
demanded how many men and horses were quartered there, whose troop
they belonged to, where the remainder of the troop was quartered,
and of what it consisted? When all these questions were answered,
he told the sergeant that he had been sent by Lord Uxbridge to
order accommodation to be provided for two hundred horses, and
that ours must consequently be put up as close as possible. The
sergeant replied that there was not room in the village for a single
additional horse. “Oh, we’ll soon see that,” said he; pointing to
one of the men who stood by, “Do you go and tell the _maire_ to come
instantly to me.” The _maire_ came, and confirmed the sergeant’s
statement, upon which our friend, flying into a passion, commenced
in excellent French to abuse the poor functionary like a pickpocket,
threatening to send a whole regiment into the village; and then,
after a little further conversation with the sergeant, he mounted
his pony and rode off just as Leathes returned to the village. Upon
reporting the circumstance to the officer, the sergeant stated that
he thought this man had appeared anxious to avoid him, having
ridden off rather in a hurry when he appeared, which, together with
a slight foreign accent, then for the first time excited a suspicion
of his being a spy, which had not occurred to the sergeant before,
as he knew there were several foreign officers in our hussars, and
that the 10th was actually then commanded by one--Colonel Quentin.
The suspicion was afterwards confirmed, for upon inquiry I found
that no officer had been sent by Lord Uxbridge on any such mission.
Our friend deserved to escape, for he was a bold and clever fellow.
A brother emissary, however, who visited Lombeke Notre Dame the
same evening, was not quite so prudent nor so fortunate, for he was
caught by the sentinel in the act of examining the guns of Sinclair’s
Brigade by aid of a dark-lantern and made prisoner; but in the
hubbub of marching the next morning made his escape, and was heard
of no more. We afterwards learned that a number of officers had been
sent the same evening into our cantonments to ascertain whether we
remained quiet, &c. &c.
Spite of my eagerness for more active service, it was not without
regret that I saw the time approach when I expected to leave for ever
the tranquil abode of Strytem; and some such thoughts occupied me
this very evening (_15th_), as I sauntered about the great avenue
after Leathes had left me. Most of the other officers had gone to
the ball at Brussels, and I remained quite alone. The balmy softness
of the air, the beauty and repose of the scenery, were, I thought,
more exquisite than ever; and I continued in the avenue until the
increasing obscurity of the evening drove me in to enjoy an hour or
two with ‘The Hermit of the Chaussée D’Antin’; ere I retired for the
night.