them cheerfully as they went out. They lingered, and seemed to wish to
speak to me, but I was well aware of what they had to say. I felt
unable to hear it then, and I shut the door instead of going out. It
was that night Mr Powell asked Emma if she knew what I thought. He
desired to be sent for on the first appearance of change. At one in
the morning he was in great pain, and as I raised him that he might
breathe more freely, he looked so fixed that I was afraid he was just
expiring. His arms were round my neck to raise himself by, and I
thought we should both have been killed by the exertion. He asked if
Mr Powell had not talked of bleeding him again. I said I had sent for
him. He bled him then for the last time. From that moment all the
fever was gone. Mr Powell said it was of consequence to keep him
quiet, and if he would sleep calmly it would do him good. At four in
the morning I was called out to see a surgeon sent from Mr Powell, who
was ill in bed. He came to know how Sir William was. He had slept a
little till three; but the oppression was returning. This surgeon told
me he had been anxious to speak to me several times, to tell me that
it was he who had first seen him on the field, and who had given it as
his opinion that he might live. He was grieved indeed to think that it
should fall to his lot to tell me that it was the opinion of the
surgeons that if I had anything particular to say to Sir William, I
should not delay long. I asked, "How long?" He said they could not
exactly tell. I said, "Days or hours?" He answered that the present
symptoms would certainly not prove fatal within twelve hours. I left
him, and went softly into my husband's room, for he was sleeping. I
sat down at the other end of the room, and continued looking at him,
quite stupefied; I could scarcely see. My mouth was so parched that
when I touched it, it felt as dry as the back of my hand. I thought I
was to die first. I then thought, what would he do for want of me
during the remaining few hours he had to live. This idea roused me,
and I began to recollect our helpless situation whatever happened,
and tried to think who I could inform of the circumstances. I was not
long in deciding on General Dundas, if he could be found, and have
time to come and take care of us both. I immediately wrote a long
letter to him, telling him how I was situated, and begging that he
would come after twelve hours. I said I hoped I should be calm and fit
to act for myself; but as I had never been near such a scene before, I
knew not what effect it might have upon me. I therefore explained what
I wished might be done after all was over, with respect to everything.
I then sent the servant with the letter and orders to find General
Dundas, if he were within ten miles of Brussels. A few hours after, I
had one line from him to say he would be at Waterloo in the evening.
After I had sent the letter, I sat down to consider what I was to do
next. Though Sir William was aware of his danger, I thought it my duty
to tell him how immediate the surgeons seemed to think it. I knew he
was far above being the worse of such a communication, and I wished to
know if he had anything to say. I sat thinking about it, when he
awoke and held out his hand for me to take my usual station by his
bedside. I went and told him. We talked some time on the subject. He
was not agitated, but his voice faltered a little, and he said it was
sudden. This was the first day he felt well enough to begin to hope he
should recover! He breathed freely, and was entirely free from pain;
and he said he had been thinking if he could be removed to Brussels,
he should get well soon.
I then asked if he had anything to desire me to do, or anything to say
to anyone. He reminded me of what he had told me had engrossed his
thoughts when he imagined himself dying on the field. He said he felt
exactly the same now. He felt at peace with all the world; he knew he
was going to a better one, etc., etc. He repeated most of what he had
told me were his feelings before--that he had no sorrow but to part
from his wife, no regret but leaving her in misery.
He seemed fatigued; and shutting his eyes, he desired me not to speak
for a little. I then determined not to introduce the subject again,
nor to speak about it unless he seemed to wish it, as I had done all
that was necessary.
In an hour or two he ate some breakfast, tea and toasted bread, with
so much relish that it almost overcame me. He observed that I must
have caught cold by sitting in a draught of air. I said I had. He felt
so much better that I was anxious the surgeon should see him. He came
in the evening. He was pleased to see Sir William free from pain, but
said there was scarcely a possibility of its continuing so. He said he
might linger a day or two, but that every symptom was bad. He advised
me to keep him as quiet and composed as possible. I assured him no
person had been in the room but the surgeons whom he had brought to
consult; and I had sat beside him the whole day, scarcely speaking. I
said I had told Sir William his opinion of his case. He said it had
evidently not agitated him, for his pulse was quite calm. Mr Woolriche
called in the afternoon; he was going to Brussels, and would do
anything there we wished. We had nothing for him to do, and he was
going when he repeated the question. Sir William looked at me
earnestly, and said, "Magdalene, love, General Dundas." I answered,
"I wrote to him this morning," and nothing more passed.
Late in the evening, when we were as calm and composed as could be,
and I was sitting and looking at him, and holding his hand as usual,
Mr Powell and Dr Hume came. He was even more cheerful than before,
paid a rapid, noisy visit, and away again. It disturbed our
tranquillity not a little, but he is reckoned so skilful that we ought
to have been glad to see him. He bade Sir William rouse up, felt his
pulse, and said it would bear another bleeding yet, if necessary.
The poor dying man raised his languid eyes, and said, "Oh no, I do not
need it now; I am quite cool."
Dr Hume said he had no wish to bleed him, but would like to have his
limbs fomented. He shook his head. I asked him if he knew what it was.
He said No, and would like to try. I asked Dr Hume if it would be
advisable. He said he thought it might refresh him. He went out, and I
followed to hear what he would say. He said to Mr Powell, "Why do you
give up a man with such a pulse? with such a good constitution, too!
You make them all sad and useless. It does no harm to be trying
something."
He named several things. "Put a blister on his breast, and leeches
after, if the pain is great down the side."
I looked at Mr Powell, doubting, as I depended most on his opinion, as
his constant attention to the progress of the illness gave it most
weight. I thought he looked sorry that my hopes should be renewed, but
of course he said nothing.
Dr Hume said, "Oh, don't fear, he won't desert the cause."
I was angry at such nonsense, and said, "Be assured I do not fear that
Mr Powell will desert us, but he said this morning there was no hope."
"Nay," said he, "not quite so much as that: I said there was little
hope."
I went away, and left them to discuss it themselves.
Sir William said he wished to try what Dr Hume was speaking of, and I
went to order some boiling water to be prepared. I made the people
understand that he wanted a great quantity in a tub. While I was
speaking, Mr Powell returned. He had taken a turn with Dr Hume, and I
fancy he had explained his opinion. He said he would go home and
prepare a blister, and he believed we had leeches. I said, was it not
a great pity to torment him. He said he would not pretend to say that
he thought it could be of much consequence, but for this reason he
advised me to do it: I was not aware, he said, how I should feel
afterwards; and I might perhaps regret when it was too late, not
having done everything which a physician of Dr Hume's eminence deemed
advisable. He said that Sir William would not be at ease at any rate,
and it would scarcely plague him; the fomentation would be pleasant to
him, and I might take the blister off in six hours if he wished it.
When I went to foment his limbs, I could not find a morsel of flannel.
At last I thought of the servant's blanket, and tore it in two. Sir
William said this was a most delightful thing, and refreshed him very
much. He expressed a great wish to have a bit on his chest. I did not
know what to do for flannel. I regretted now excessively not having
brought a change of clothes; for I could have taken a flannel
petticoat. This put me in mind of the one I had on, and I instantly
tore a great piece out of it and put it into the tub. The cottagers
held up their hands, exclaiming, "Ah, madame!" He said it did him
good, and was delicious, unconscious where we had found the flannel;
indeed he never was aware of the difficulty, for the tub was placed in
the outer room.
General Dundas came. Sir William heard me speaking to him, and asked
who it was. I told him, and he asked if he was going to remain. I said
he was. Sir William seemed gratified, but did not say anything. Surely
no earthly feeling can be superior to such perfect sympathy.
Sir William fell asleep, and I went out to see if there was anything
for General Dundas to eat. He told me he had got a very good room
upstairs, and was willing to remain as long as I wished. His only
request was that I would not mind him any more than if he was not
there, but send for him when I wanted him. I opened the door of Sir
William's room and sat close to it, so as to hear if he moved or
spoke. I sat down to coffee for the first meal I had, and talked over
several things necessary to be settled with General Dundas. I could
not speak above a whisper, my voice was so faint. He entreated me, if
possible, to try and take some rest that night, for fear I should be
ill before my husband could spare me. I promised. He then told me that
Lady Hamilton had asked him to take me to her house when I returned to
Brussels; and also the Count de Lannoy had prepared rooms, which he
begged I would occupy as long as I pleased. I preferred going to the
house we had been in before, and I thought I could be more entirely
alone there than at any other person's house, which was what I wished,
and knew would be best for me. I was struck when I did return to
Brussels, with two marks of attention. I had a message from the
Commissary to say that orders had been given that I was to draw
rations and forage for as long as I stayed; and the other circumstance
was this. On the letters I had sent from Antwerp I had neglected to
write "private," which is necessary when writing to a person in
office. I gave them up for lost, and was uncomfortable. After I had
been three days at Brussels, they were all returned unopened from
Headquarters.
Sir William called me. I sat a short time beside him, and after I had
prepared drink for the night I told him I was so very tired I would go
and lie down for a short time, if he would allow my maid to bring the
medicine which he took every four hours. He agreed, and asked if I did
not always take plenty of sleep. I said, "Oh yes," and was going, when
he said the pain in his chest was returning, and perhaps leeches would
do some good. This was the only time I hesitated to oblige him, for I
really could scarcely stand; but of course I proceeded to apply the
leeches, and in a few minutes the excessive drowsiness went off; so
much so, that when after an hour I went to lie down, I could not
sleep. I started every moment, thinking he called me. I desired Emma
to waken me if he spoke or seemed uneasy. She gave him the medicine.
He looked at her, and asked where I was; she told him I was sleeping.
He said, "That's right, quite right."
The pain in his chest grew intolerable, and depending upon my being
asleep he yielded to complaint, and groaned very much. Emma roused me
and told me she feared he was suffering very much. I had slept half an
hour. I went and stood near him, and he then ceased to complain, and
said, "Oh, it was only a little twitch." I felt at that time as if I
was an oppression to him, and I was going away, but he desired me to
stay. I sat down and rubbed it, which healed the pain, and towards
morning I put on the blister. Between five and six he ate some toasted
bread and tea, about two inches of bread. Before he began he entreated
me to take off the blister only for ten minutes, that he might eat in
tolerable comfort. I said I would take it away entirely, and he was
pleased. The doctor came about nine. He was breathing then with great
difficulty, and there was a rough sound in his throat. Mr Powell said
the only thing to be done was to keep him quiet as usual, and to
prevent him speaking. He asked Mr Powell if he might rise, for he
might breathe easier at the window, and he was so tired of lying in
that bed. Mr Powell urged him not to think of it; he was not able; it
would hurt him very much, etc.
About eleven o'clock he sent me away for ten minutes, and with the
help of his servant he rose and got to the other end of the room. I
was terrified when I heard he was up, and called General Dundas, who
went in and found him almost fainting. They placed him in bed again,
and when I returned he was much exhausted. I opened the windows wide
and shut the door, and sat by him alone, in hopes that he might go to
sleep and recover a little. He slept every now and then for a little.
He seemed oppressed with the length of the day for the first time. He
asked repeatedly what o'clock it was; he often asked if it was three
yet. When I told him it was near five, he seemed surprised. At night
he said he wished he could fall upon some device to shorten the weary
long night; he could not bear it so long. I could not think of any
plan. He said if I could lie down beside him it would cut off five or
six hours. I said it was impossible, for I was afraid to hurt him,
there was so little room. His mind seemed quite bent upon it.
Therefore I stood upon a chair and stepped over him, for he could not
move an inch, and he lay at the outer edge. He was delighted; and it
shortened the night indeed, for we both fell asleep.
At five in the morning I rose. He was very anxious to have his wound
dressed; it had never been looked at. He said there was a little pain,
merely a trifle, but it teased him. Mr Powell objected; he said it
would fatigue him too much that day. He consented to delay. I then
washed his face and hands, and brushed his hair, after which I gave
him his breakfast. He again wished to rise, but I persuaded him not to
do it; he said he would not do anything I was averse to, and he said,
"See what control your poor husband is under." He smiled, and drew me
so close to him that he could touch my face, and he continued stroking
it with his hand for some time.
Towards eleven o'clock he grew more uneasy; he was restless and
uncomfortable; his breathing was like choking, and as I sat gazing at
him I could distinctly hear the water rattling in his throat. I opened
the door and windows to make a draught. I desired the people to leave
the outer room, that his might be as quiet as usual; and then I sat
down to watch the melancholy progress of the water in his chest, which
I saw would soon be fatal.
About three o'clock Dr Hume and Mr Powell came. I must do the former
the justice to say he was grave enough now. Sir William repeated his
request to have the wound dressed. Dr Hume consented, and they went
away to prepare something to wash it with; they remained away half an
hour. I sat down by my husband and took his hand; he said he wished I
would not look so unhappy. I wept; and he spoke to me with so much
affection. He repeated every endearing expression. He bade me kiss
him. He called me his dear wife. The surgeons returned. My husband
turned on one side with great difficulty; it seemed to give much pain.
After I had brought everything the surgeons wanted, I went into
another room. I could not bear to see him suffering. Mr Powell saw a
change in his countenance; he looked out, and desired Emma to call me,
to tell me instantly Sir William wanted me. I hastened to him,
reproaching myself for having been absent a moment. I stood near my
husband, and he looked up at me and said, "Magdalene, my love, the
spirits." I stooped down close to him and held the bottle of lavender
to him: I also sprinkled some near him. He looked pleased. He gave a
little gulp, as if something was in his throat. The doctor said, "Ah,
poor De Lancey! He is gone." I pressed my lips to his, and left the
room.
I went upstairs, where I remained, unconscious of what was passing,
till Emma came to me and said the carriage was ready, and General
Dundas advised me to go that evening to Brussels, but I need not hurry
myself. I asked her if the room below was empty. She assured me it
was; and I went down and remained some time beside the body. There was
such perfect peace and placid calm sweetness in his countenance, that
I envied him not a little. He was released: I was left to suffer. I
then thought I should not suffer long. As I bent over him I felt as if
violent grief would disturb his tranquil rest.
These moments that I passed by his lifeless body were awful, and
instructive. Their impression will influence my whole life.
I left Waterloo with feelings so different from those I had on going
to it. Then all was anxious terror that I would not be there in time
to see one look, or to hear one word. Now there was nothing
imaginary--all was real misery. There now remained not even a chance
of happiness, but what depended on the retrospect of better days and
duties fulfilled.
As I drove rapidly along the same road, I could not but recall the
irritated state I had been in when I had been there before; and the
fervent and sincere resolutions I then made, that if I saw him alive,
I never would repine.
Since that time I have suffered every shade of sorrow; but I can
safely affirm that except the first few days, when the violence of
grief is more like delirium than the sorrow of a Christian, I have
never felt that my lot was unbearable. I do not forget the perfection
of my happiness while it lasted; and I believe there are many who
after a long life cannot say they have felt so much of it.
As I expressed some uneasiness to General Dundas at having left the
body with none but servants, Colonel Grant at his request went to
Waterloo the same evening, and remained till it was brought up next
day to Brussels. General Dundas then kindly executed all my orders
with respect to the funeral, etc., which took place on Wednesday the
28th, in the cemetery of the Reformed(39) Church. It is about a mile
from Brussels, on the road to Louvain. I had a stone placed, with
simply his name and the circumstances of his death. I visited his
grave(40) on Tuesday, the 4th of July. The burying-ground is in a
sweet, quiet, retired spot. A narrow path leads to it from the road.
It is quite out of sight among the fields, and no house but the
grave-digger's cottage is near. Seeing my interest in that grave, he
begged me to let him plant roses round it, and promised I should see
it nicely kept when I returned. I am pleased that I saw the grave and
the stone; for there were nearly forty other new graves, and not
another stone.
At eleven o'clock that same day, I set out for England. That day,
three(41) months before, I was married.
M. De L.
NOTES TO LADY DE LANCEY'S NARRATIVE
Most of the following notes have been compiled by Mr T.W. Brogden, of
the Middle Temple, to whom I take this opportunity of expressing my
indebtedness for his assistance in the preparation of this volume, and
for his kindness in seeing the book through the press, during my
absence in Canada.
EDITOR.
(1) "On Thursday the 15th June we had spent a particularly happy
morning. My dear husband gave me many interesting anecdotes of his
former life, and I traced in every one some trait of his amiable and
generous mind; never had I felt so perfectly content, so grateful for
the blessing of his love."--_Abridged Narrative._
(2) General Alava, who was Minister Plenipotentiary from Spain to the
King of the Netherlands.
Sir William and Lady De Lancey were amongst the guests invited to the
Duchess of Richmond's famous ball that night. See _Reminiscences of
Lady de Ros_, p. 127.
(3) "He turned back at the door, and looked at me with a smile of
happiness and peace. It was the last!"--_Abridged Narrative._
(4) The Duke's house was at the corner of the Rue de la Montagne du
Parc and the Rue Royale, and was next to the Hotel de France. The
Count de Lannoy's house was at the south-east corner of the Impasse du
Parc.
(5) By 9 P.M. the _first orders_ had been despatched.
Colonel Basil Jackson has the following recollections of his
experiences on the evening of the 15th June: "I was sauntering about
the park towards seven o'clock on the evening of the 15th June, when a
soldier of the Guards, attached to the Quartermaster-General's office,
summoned me to attend Sir William De Lancey. He had received orders to
concentrate the army towards the frontier, which until then had
remained quiet in cantonments. I was employed, along with others, for
about two hours in writing out 'routes' for the several divisions,
foreign as well as British, which were despatched by orderly Hussars
of the 3rd Regiment of the German Legion, steady fellows, who could be
depended on for so important a service. To each was explained the rate
at which he was to proceed, and the time when he was to arrive at his
destination; he was directed also to bring back the cover of the
letter which he carried, having the time of its arrival noted upon it
by the officer to whom it was addressed.
"This business over, which occupied us till after nine, De Lancey put
a packet into my hand directed to Colonel Cathcart--the present
Earl--a thorough soldier, and highly esteemed by the Duke, who then
filled, as he had previously done in Spain, the arduous post of
Assistant Quartermaster-General to the whole of the cavalry.
"'I believe you can find your way in the dark by the cross roads to
Ninove,' said Sir William, 'let this be delivered as soon as
possible.'
"Proud of my commission, I was speedily in the saddle and threading my
way, which I did without difficulty. My good nag rapidly cleared the
fifteen miles, but ere reaching the above place, then the headquarters
of the cavalry, I fell in with one or two orderly Dragoons speeding to
out-quarters. I could also perceive lights flickering about in the
villages adjacent to my route: indications which satisfied me that the
German Hussar previously despatched from Brussels had accomplished his
mission.
"Here let me stop for a moment to commend the practice in our service
of having plenty of well-mounted staff officers ready to convey orders
of moment at the utmost speed. On the portentous night in question,
several, chiefly belonging to the Royal Staff Corps, a body attached
to the Quartermaster-General's department, were employed in conveying
duplicates of the instructions previously forwarded by Hussars, in
order to guard against the possibility of mistake. The omission of
such a precautionary measure at the Prussian headquarters, on the same
evening, was attended with disastrous consequences, for Bluecher's
order for Bulow's corps to unite with the rest of his army, being
entrusted to a corporal, probably wanting in intelligence, he did not
deliver it in time, whereby that corps, 30,000 strong, failed to reach
Ligny and share in the battle."[33]
[Footnote 33: "Recollections of Waterloo," by a Staff Officer, in
_United Service Journal_ for 1847, Part III., p. 3.]
(6) "I entreated to remain in the room with him, promising not to
speak. He wrote for several hours without any interruption but the
entrance and departure of the various messengers who were to take the
orders. Every now and then I gave him a cup of green tea, which was
the only refreshment he would take, and he rewarded me by a silent
look. My feelings during these hours I cannot attempt to describe, but
I preserved perfect outward tranquillity."--_Abridged Narrative._
(7) By 12 midnight, the _after orders_ had been despatched. With
regard to the orders of the 15th and 16th June, including the
"Disposition of the British Army at 7 o'clock A.M., 16th June,"
attributed to Sir William De Lancey, see Gurwood, vol. xii., pp.
472-474; _Supplementary Despatches_, vol. x., p. 496; Ropes'
_Waterloo_, pp. 77-89; and Colonel Maurice in _U.S. Magazine_, 1890,
pp. 144 and 257-263.
(8) Doubtless, General Mueffling, Prussian attache at the headquarters
of the Duke of Wellington. He accompanied the Duke to the ball, and
next morning rode with him to Quatre Bras.
(9) _I.e._, without changing their ball dress. Some of the officers
were killed at Quatre Bras in their shoes and silk stockings. "There
was a ball at Brussels, at the Duchess of Richmond's, that night
(which I only mention because it was so much talked of), at which
numbers of the officers were present, who quitted the ball to join
their divisions, which had commenced their march before they arrived
at their quarters, and some of them were killed the next day in the
same dress they had worn at the ball." (Extract from a letter written
by Colonel Felton Hervey shortly after the battle, and published in
the _XIXth Century_ for March 1903, page 431.) See also Colonel
Maurice in _U.S. Magazine_, 1890, p. 144.
(10) "As the dawn broke, the soldiers were seen assembling from all
parts of the town, in marching order, with their knapsacks on their
backs, loaded with three days' provisions. Unconcerned in the midst of
the din of war, many a soldier laid himself down on a truss of straw
and soundly slept, with his hands still grasping his firelock; others
were sitting contentedly on the pavement, waiting the arrival of their
comrades. Numbers were taking leave of their wives and children,
perhaps for the last time, and many a veteran's rough cheek was wet
with the tears of sorrow. One poor fellow, immediately under our
windows, turned back again and again to bid his wife farewell, and
take his baby once more in his arms; and I saw him hastily brush away
a tear with the sleeve of his coat, as he gave her back the child for
the last time, wrung her hand, and ran off to join his company, which
was drawn up on the other side of the Place Royale. Many of the
soldiers' wives marched out with their husbands to the field, and I
saw one young English lady mounted on horseback slowly riding out of
town along with an officer, who, no doubt, was her husband. Soon
afterwards the 42nd and 92nd Highland regiments marched through the
Place Royale and the Parc, with their bagpipes playing before them,
while the bright beams of the rising sun shone full on their polished
muskets and on the dark waving plumes of their tartan bonnets. Alas!
we little thought that even before the fall of night these brave men
whom we now gazed at with so much interest and admiration would be
laid low." (Mrs Eaton's _Waterloo Days_, p. 21.)