Two months I rusticated in Berkshire, and then, my leave of absence
having nearly expired, set off in the beginning of November,
taking with me my wife, whose determination not to be again
separated, united to an eager curiosity to see Paris, overcame all
the difficulties I threw in the way of such a winter campaign,
and rendered her deaf to all my representations of hardships and
privations which she would inevitably have to bear and put up with.
My journal of this second residence was hurried, meagre, and very
irregularly kept. She kept likewise a few memoranda, so that from
the two, and what memory and collating will supply, I am enabled to
complete this journal to the return of my troop to Canterbury in
February 1816.
_Sunday, November 5th._--Slept at the York Hotel last night, and
embarked this morning on board the packet for Calais--forget
her name--Captain Keys. All bustle and confusion when we went
on board. Deck encumbered with a carriage and heaps of baggage,
amongst which the complete, well-appointed baggage of Hamilton
Hamilton, Esq., secretary of legation, or some such thing, was most
conspicuous. In time carriage was stowed and baggage sent below,
porters, leave-takers, &c., went ashore, and we quitted the pier.
Passengers numerous: H. Hamilton does exclusive, and even betrays
impatience and vexation at being shut up with such a _canaille_;
then an old gentleman, with a broad-brimmed hat, assumes mighty airs
of consequence, and even looks a little contemptuously at Hamilton
Hamilton himself, who speaks to none but his _own man_; a Scottish
gentleman and his spouse, who makes a terrible sputter about her
dear little dog Rose, which is somehow or another left behind at
Dover; a mean-looking man in a foraging-cap, a melancholy sergeant
of dragoons, and his wife; a Russian dressed in forage-cap and green
jacket, like a servant’s morning one, wearing no gloves, and looking
for all the world like a _courrier_, but F. insisting that such a
white hand decidedly constitutes him a gentleman; besides a crowd,
_gentium minorum_, of whom we make no record. As we left, the guns
on Dover Castle announced Guy Faux by a royal salute. A fresh breeze
and rather dark day--the one operating on the _physique_, the other
on the _morale_, made all the passengers except very few exceedingly
sick. More than half-way over, our breeze gradually subsided into a
calm, and left us bobbing about at a most tantalising distance from
our port. To amuse the tedium of the calm, our Russian (by no means
a handsome man), who had been ogling F. from the very beginning,
managed to pick up a conversation; and in a very short time from
ogling began to make love, which, however, was cut short by her
getting squeamish, and being obliged to lie down. He then transferred
his attentions to me, and I really found him a most gentlemanly,
well-informed man, spite of his exterior. After being tantalised for
some time looking at Calais without being able to reach it, at length
a breeze sprang up and carried us in. Crowds of Sunday people were
on the pier, all anxious to see the arrivals. The usual squabble
about baggage and forcing through the surrounding multitude took
place, and we went to Quillacq’s Hotel without the baggage--which,
after all, was detained on board until it could be inspected at the
custom-house on Monday morning, a most inconvenient arrangement,
as we found ourselves without an article except what we stood in--a
great rambling house, with large dreary (at this season of the year)
rooms and long corridors. Amused with F.’s surprise at the number of
little dishes served up at dinner--all, however, excellent. Obliged
to borrow nightcaps of M. and Madame Quillacq.
_6th._--Up at seven in the morning, and went to the custom-house
for our baggage. _Douaniers_, a set of insolent scoundrels, gave
themselves amazing airs, and tumbled everything out on the floor;
particularly severe with Ham. Hamilton’s baggage, who had sent
his servant for it. At last I got mine out of their clutches;
hired a cabriolet to take us to Paris, where we give it up to the
correspondent. Well stuffed and comfortable, with innumerable little
pockets. F. amused again with our set out: started at half-past ten
A.M., preceded by the little gentleman in the broad-brimmed hat
in one _calèche_, and the two Russians in another. At Marquise we
passed them. Nothing extraordinary in our drive except Buonaparte’s
pillar near Boulogne, and the house he lived in at Pont de Bricq
when he visited the army of England. Arrived at M. Mallet, Samer, by
half-past four P.M. Found the house comfortable, except that our
room smoked somewhat. Girls most merry; gave us an excellent dinner,
but so-so wine. Amused ourselves with arrivals and departures. F.
looked in vain, however, for her Russian lover--he came not.
But another character of more importance came not: Mr William should
have joined us at Dover or Calais; but when at the latter we learned
that he remained at Dover waiting for his trunk, which had been left
behind in London.
_November 7th._--Sophie gave us an excellent breakfast, after which
we set off. Our postilion a character, in the imperial green jacket;
and from under his leathern hat, instead of the usual thick queue,
flowed a mass of locks unrestrained. His beasts were a couple of
long-tailed cart-horses, harnessed principally with rope. The long
ascent, after leaving Samer, brought us on the plateau occupied by
the dreaded forest--dreaded because we had heard reports of banditti
and plundering; but we passed through it without interruption, and
soon after saw the ramparts of Montreuil crowning the isolated hill,
frowning like an acropolis over the lower town--the whole, standing
as it does in a country destitute of the smallest feature of the
picturesque, presenting a most sombre and forbidding aspect. Nor did
the interior belie its exterior aspect, which we entered by a long,
squalid, straggling street, and ascended to the upper town by a very
steep hill. Whilst the horses were changing we got an omelet. Scotch
officer and his wife, who had come on _en voiturier_, we overtook
here. As elsewhere, a crowd of beggars assailed us on alighting and
re-entering our carriage. In this country they spoil their own trade,
for they are too numerous. I hurry over all this, for my notes are
very meagre.
Approaching Abbeville by a long descent, its cathedral, proudly
elevating its beautiful Gothic front above the other buildings (dingy
in colour, and unpicturesque in form) was the only redeeming point
in the view; but that _was_ an interesting one. The town, however,
pleased us, though its streets are rather narrow and dirty. Found our
old friends the hussars of the Brunswick auxiliaries and my old troop
(G) quartered here.
_8th._--Started at a little after seven A.M. Our postilion was the
first one we had had, who astonished F. by wearing jack-boots.
Breakfasted at Flixcourt: little slop-basins instead of cups, with
large spoons; as usual, sour bread and soapy butter--for all which
the charge was exorbitant. During breakfast the beautiful band of
the 1st Hussars, K.G.L., was playing on an open space near the house,
where the regiment had its morning parade.
At Pecquigny met a bridal--all in their best; men and boys firing
guns, and the bride carrying a little flag. A young rogue who stood
by our carriage whilst changing horses begging in a most piteous
accent, observing me start when the first gun was fired, just before
the procession came in sight, could not resist the desire of amusing
himself at my expense, whom he no doubt took for some Cockney, and
shouted, in a voice of affected alarm, “C’est l’ennemi, monsieur!”
and seeing that his _coup_ had _manqué_, burst into laughter.
Beyond Pecquigny came on the valley of the Somme; and the scenery
became somewhat interesting. Amiens we found full of Prussians, and
only stopped to change horses--Maître de Poste quite a gentlemanly
man, riding a managed horse. Fine old town and splendid cathedral.
Stopped for the night at Breteuil. Inn an immense old-fashioned
house, like an old convent; great rambling wainscoted corridor;
and our room large, lofty, and the walls hung with old faded
tapestry, and two old-fashioned beds with curtains of yellow damask;
sitting-room quite on a par with it. Our attendant Josephine (a very
pretty girl) told us our teeth must be bad, because we complained
of our fowl being tough; and to our complaint of knives, she said
they were too sharp, for that she had just cut her finger with
one of them. Apropos of knives, there seems but one pattern all
over France, and that a very coarse one, which, however costly the
table-service in other respects, appears everywhere to spoil the
whole. Its sharp point one sees constantly used as a tooth-pick; and
over and over again I have seen it taken from that employment and
plunged unhesitatingly into some dish, &c. Soup served in a regular
white jorden; however, we find fine Sevres porcelain coffee-services
everywhere. Wine here all out of one cask, though Josephine protested
that the fifty different kinds she enumerated were literally and
truly each from the place named. F. astonished at the immense long
loaves. An English family had arrived in a smart barouche, with
servants in a cabriolet. Forced to sit in their bedroom, ours being
the only _salle_, such as it is.
_November 9th._--Early this morning a large detachment of Prussian
infantry marched into Breteuil, and the officers, as soon as their
parade was over, came tramping _sans cérémonie_ through every
room in the house. F., whom I had left alone whilst I strolled
out to see the place, was terribly frightened by three or four of
them walking into the room, and standing there with the door open
jabbering for some time, as if no one had been present, one of
them ogling most furiously. Spite of our exertions, the family in
the barouche got their horses and set off before us, to our great
annoyance, as of course they would absorb all the attention and
occupy all the accommodation to our exclusion. Josephine gave us
a miserable breakfast, no doubt owing to that accursed barouche;
and, after all, our bill was most exorbitant. Thought our postilion
was mad--for never saw French postilion dash along so recklessly
and at such a pace: the cabriolet rolled from side to side, and
jerked and jumped so that I expected we should plunge through the
windows. Still it was pleasant to get on. At last we overtook the
barouche, and the mystery was explained, for our gentleman relapsed
at once into the tamest of postilions, sticking himself close up to
the other carriage, with his horses’ noses under its very dicky.
Occupant of this a gentleman’s gentleman of the very first water,
who sadly annoyed F. by his impudent staring. Urged our hero of the
jack-boots and sheep’s-skin pelisse to pass ahead, for the heavy
barouche, although drawn by four horses, could only get on at a
jog-trot pace. Urged long in vain. At last, just as he was about to
push on, the gentleman in the dicky dropped his glove, and our most
polite postilion actually stopped, dismounted, picked it up, and
again driving up in the wake of the barouche, presented it with the
utmost deference of manner to the supercilious scoundrel. Got furious
now, and commenced such a volley that I at last actually succeeded
in driving him ahead of the barouche just as we approached Clermont.
Another marriage at St Juste: bride very pretty, and guns fired in
abundance as before. Clermont uncommonly prettily situated. Did not
alight, but enjoyed some delicious grapes which women and girls
brought and sold for a song. Hence to Creil; a great improvement
in the scenery, which became rich, diversified, and well wooded,
until near that place we descended into the beautiful bottom of the
Oise, with its wooded hill and white cliffs. Found here a garrison
of Belges. Our postilion still more mad. As we had foreseen, there
was some difficulty in getting rooms at the Hotel de Bourbon at
Chantilly, and we had scarcely secured them ere the barouche drove
up, but could not find accommodation. Visited the chateau of the
Prince de Condé. Stables magnificent; an immense lofty hall, as big
as a church, with a fine cupola--around are the stalls, &c.--splendid
idea! Our dinner even more than usually ridiculous by the number of
little _plats_--a regular doll’s; liqueurs of sorts, all very bad,
in cruet-bottles--aniseed the only one drinkable. In the evening
entertained by the singing of the Nassau troops stationed here. Bad
news from Paris. In the next room a party of London shop-boys, or
some such thing. One of these, pretty drunk, wanted to be called in
the morning, and as our doors were open, we had the full benefit and
advantage of the fine language propounded to the waiter: “Garçon! mon
domestique à cinq heure et demie.” Garçon does not comprehend; tries
over and over again. “Je ne vous comprends pas, monsieur, se fait
entendre toujours.” At last impatient, “Well, dammee, ’tis simply
this, my man: tell my servant to call me at half-past five o’clock.”
We went to our bedroom ere the matter was settled. The French seem to
think nothing of damp sheets--ours were actually wet.
_10th._--Our host gave us a most comfortable breakfast, after which
we set off in high spirits for Paris; the day fine and scenery
lovely. Whilst changing horses at Luzarches, some non-commissioned
officers of the Belgic or Nassau troops stationed there were
exceedingly impertinent to F., but I had no time to obtain redress,
so left them.
After passing Pierrefitte, made our postilion turn off the chaussée
spite of his objections, and attempt to reach Stain; but we soon
found the cross-road so bad, nearly smashing our wheels, that we
were glad to regain the chaussée. Whilst stopping at the post-house
at St Denis, Frazer and Ambrose rode up. From them we learned that
old Webber had made my house very comfortable; so determined not to
stay in Paris, but to give up our cabriolet, and return forthwith
to Stain. This we accordingly did, driving straight to the Remise,
Rue Faubourg St Denis, where we hired a fiacre, and reached Stain
about dusk. It was a cold gloomy evening. The story of comfort was
exaggerated. Webber had hired some little, shabby, old furniture;
but the place looked wretched, and when F. became fully aware of
its discomforts, her enthusiasm gave way like snow before the sun;
she burst into tears. The heroics vanished, and she confessed
she wished herself again in England. The room had indeed a most
forlorn appearance: a handful of fire flickered in the grateless,
gaping chimney; the little furniture was of the coarsest kind; the
uncarpeted floor of brick;--desolation everywhere! We had had no
dinner, and, except some ration-beef, nothing could be procured. Some
of this, however, was cooked and despatched; and, as the best thing
we could do, we set to work putting to rights, and making the most
of it. Nothing could equal the surprise of Madlle. Rose at finding
that the smooth-faced bourgeois was indeed the identical mustachioed
commandant she had been accustomed to months ago. Next morning
found a poultry-yard--rabbits, &c., all provided by the attentions
of old Robertson, my quartermaster-sergeant. Things looked better;
F. was refreshed, consequently in better spirits. The visits of
congratulation and kind attentions of our villagers delighted her;
but M. le Maire stood like one thunderstruck when introduced to his
old friend with a new face. My cow dead, but another was negotiating
for. The history of the defunct was, that she was a commissariat
issue to me as so many rations; but, instead of putting her to death,
I kept her for her milk.
Here, again, I am without a guide, or nearly so--my diary ends; and,
to continue our residence at Stain, I am reduced to a few brief
notices preserved in my general journal.
That residence was uncomfortable enough, for the winter set in with
a degree of severity unknown in England; and our house, both from
its construction and furnishing, was ill calculated, under such
circumstances, to afford comfort, or indeed at times to prevent
suffering. However, we were in paradise compared to the situation of
the little farmers (cultivateurs) and still poorer people amongst
whom we were thus domiciliated. With them we found that it was no
uncommon practice to live in the stable, &c., among the cattle, for
the sake of sparing fuel--the animals helping to keep them warm.
Sometimes I took F. to Paris to see the lions; but it was sad, cold,
dirty work. The streets were ankle-deep in mud; even the walks of
the Palais Royal, the Passage des Panoramas, &c., were covered with
mud, carried in on people’s feet. Sometimes I took a walk; but the
country, now stripped of its verdure, presented an aspect hideously
cheerless. What could be more so than the extensive, dreary,
snow-covered plain extending from St Denis to the foot of Montmartre
without a redeeming tree? Like other highroads, the one crossing this
plain to La Chapelle, we were told, had once been bordered by trees,
but they were cut down on the approach of the Allied armies, I think,
last year.
Soon after arriving, having published through the commune our want
of a female servant, Mademoiselle Rose introduced Angélique. My
wife took a liking to her immediately; so, having exchanged written
contracts with M. l’Ecuyer (her father), engaging to take care of,
and send her back from England free of expense, she was engaged, and
forthwith entered on her functions, as cook, lady’s-maid, &c. M.
l’Ecuyer is (like most of our neighbours) a cultivateur--works his
own little bit of land, and is independent, except of poverty; for
these little cultivateurs work hard and fare harder, as far as I can
learn.
Sometimes our _séjour_ was enlivened by visits from our own officers,
or from some of those stationed in St Denis, La Vertu, and even
from Paris: and occasionally more genial weather allowed F. to ride
Cossack; but these rides were necessarily confined to the park. With
the villagers we had become as much at home as Frenchmen could be. As
for our _ménage_, it got on pretty well; and once we even ventured
on giving a dinner to Wells and Ambrose, which went off pretty well;
and once we went and passed a day with Sir A. Frazer at the Hotel du
Nord.
Again, one bitter cold black day, we visited the Abbey of St Denis,
and went shivering through its vaults, and were shown the last home
prepared by Napoleon for himself. The town was crowded with troops
on their march northwards. Once or twice F. was able to ride to
Paris; but it was hard work. Amongst other amusements in Stain, we
had one not very agreeable, and which kept us in a continual state of
excitement. Our men were continually setting fire to their quarters,
particularly the chateau of Admiral Rosily. The villagers said this
arose from their removing the ashes, and making their fires on the
bare hearth, which thus became so hot as to set fire to the beams
beneath. They therefore advised the men to leave the ashes and make
their new fire on them. This they did; but Admiral Rosily wrote
to tell me that no fires ought be lighted up-stairs in his house,
as the chimneys were only intended as ventilators, and therefore
begged us to confine the fires to the ground-floor. At the stables
of the chateau, over which a detachment was lodged, a fire occurred,
and continued smouldering in the beams for a fortnight, the centre
remaining on fire when we thought it extinguished.
At length the period of our departure drew nigh, and arrangements
were made at headquarters which totally disorganised my troop at the
moment when a perfect organisation was most necessary. During the
campaign, a detachment of the driver-corps had been attached to each
troop of horse-artillery, our own establishment being insufficient
for the additional carriages. These were now to be withdrawn and sent
home; and accordingly, all this rabble from Bull’s and other troops
still in the neighbourhood of Paris were sent to mine as destined
for England. Secondly, all my officers were allowed to desert me.
Captain Webber protested he was too weak to undertake such a journey,
and obtained leave to remain in Paris; my surgeon (Ambrose) was
permitted to remain in charge of him; Lieutenant Bruce neither liked
the winter-march nor quitting Paris, where he was doing aide-de-camp
to his cousin, Lady Castlereagh; two lieutenants (Maunsell and
Wells) remained to march with the troop; but the former had resolved
on leaving the service, and the latter had obtained an exchange to
a troop forming part of the Army of Occupation, consequently he
accompanies us only a part of the way to Calais--and thus no very
great zeal could be expected from either of these. Thirdly, we were
ordered to give up our white cross-belts to G troop, in exchange
for their waist-belts--exhibiting thus our old worn jackets in all
their nakedness. Fourthly, our overalls were in rags--new ones had
been ordered, and were on the road from Brussels, but we were not
allowed to wait for them. Add to all this the casualties of a long
winter-march, bad lodging, and worse weather, and the condition
of the troop on reaching Calais may be imagined. The defection of
Ambrose, however, was counterbalanced by my old friend Hitchins
getting leave to accompany us to England. He, too, intended quitting
the service.
_December 16th._--Hitchins joined us at Stain; and as he brought
his own bed, I gave him a room in my chateau. The knotty question
of how F. and Angélique were to travel was settled between them
and Hitchins; and, overruling my scruples, it was arranged that
a cabriolet should be hired for Calais, to be drawn by a pair of
troop-horses, with the driver for postilion. Accordingly, on the 18th
Hitchins went to Paris and procured the vehicle, whilst we continued
our preparations.
_19th._--The troop under Maunsell marched at an early hour for
Beaumont, our first halting-place. One would have fancied that the
village militia was about to quit home. No one thought of work: the
whole population of the commune assembled in the park; endless the
leave-takings, and I believe sincere the expressions of friendship
and regrets at separation. Many of the cultivateurs, whose carts we
had taken for the baggage, cheerfully volunteered accompanying us all
the way to Calais.
Our own baggage delayed us so much that it was eleven A.M. before we
were under way--F. and Angélique (whose relations to the twentieth
degree had thronged our house all the morning) in the _calèche_,
Hitchins and myself on horseback, followed by Gunner Fitzgerald, my
orderly, and my groom Milward, in uniform and carrying my Waterloo
lance. The day was fine, and the country pretty enough for the
season; so that, after getting on the chaussée at Pierrefitte, we
moved on merrily and agreeably until evening, when the sky clouded
over, it became very cold, and soon a heavy fall of snow came on,
in the midst of which we arrived at Beaumont, and found our people
just forming the park, and those of Major Dyas already snug in their
quarters. His battery had been ordered to march with us; but he had
also orders not to interfere in any way with me or mine.
Our billet was on an iron merchant, and thither we proceeded,
whilst Hitchins went in search of his own. Our house was a
respectable-looking one outside; inside it was much like a great
foundry, or some such place--almost the whole of it being one vast
hall, lighted from above, and full of bar-iron standing against the
walls. An open staircase conducted us to a small gallery; up one
more step and into a neat little room--but, from the scarcity of
furniture and badness of the fire, looking sufficiently cheerless: a
table, covered as usual with oil-cloth, two or three plain chairs,
a bed without curtains, and windows without shutters;--such was the
domicile into which we were ushered by a hideously ugly and most
sulky maid-servant. Assistance from the house we soon found we must
not expect, and sent out for something to eat; but the answer was
_nil_, and we were forced to content ourselves with some bad tea
and bread-and-butter. The evening was wretchedly cold, and our fire
so insufficient that we were glad to get to bed; but here, again,
were _wet_ sheets, and we were obliged to get between the blankets.
Miserable evening!
_20th._--Weather improved. Started about eleven, and, traversing
a beautiful and fertile country, arrived in the afternoon at the
pretty village of Noailles, where we found ourselves billeted
on a rich old gentleman, who did not ask us to his table, but in
every other respect did his utmost to make us comfortable; and so
in reality we were, for our apartment was delightfully so; our
fare good; and our host furnished us liberally with good wine and
cider. Passed the evening playing dominoes, and wishing we could
stay in such nice quarters. Began to find Angélique[28] very useful
in communicating with the people, whose ways she understood better
than we. Noailles is but a poor village, although prettily situated;
however, there is a manufactory here of those pretty bands which
French women wear below _the knee_.
_21st._--A short march to Beauvais, where we arrived early; and
whilst I parked the guns and saw my people put up, Hitchins
accompanied F. in search of my quarters. My duty finished, I followed
to a handsome house, where I understood they were. Whilst making
inquiries under the gateway, Madame herself came out and told me
rather angrily that I could have no quarters there, as the colonel
(my travelling title) and his lady already occupied all she was bound
to furnish. I endeavoured to explain that the gentleman up-stairs
was my friend, that I was M. le Colonel, and had sent him to escort
my wife, &c. &c. At the word _femme_, the _insolente_ with a sneer
turned from me with, “Ah! soi-disante.” A scene occurred; Monsieur
himself came out, who I insisted should be responsible for his wife’s
tongue. At last they begged pardon, and I mounted the staircase
according to direction, and found a most comfortable lodging--two
well-furnished rooms and a small cabinet. The people sent up soon
after to invite us to dinner, they being ordered to feed us; but we
would not go, and made them send dinner up to us. Our rooms had only
one drawback--they were rather gloomy, the windows opening upon a
courtyard. Stayed three days in Beauvais, during which we lived well
at the expense of our host; and having bought some cards, Hitchins
came every evening to coffee, and we had a game at casino. Our
mornings were passed in visiting the beautiful Gothic cathedral and
other churches; the manufactory of tapestry, equalling that of the
Gobelins, of which this is a branch; in shopping, and in riding about
the neighbouring country, which is pretty--somewhat resembling that
about Bath. One evening we went to the play--a dark dismal house, and
quite a second-rate set of actors. Don’t know what the piece was,
but the humour consisted in the _patois_ of an old Picard servant,
who was continually repeating, “Ya! ya! ya! Munsincur!” There were
a good many of us--all the officers of Ross’s troop and Dyas’s
battery, _par excellence_. The pit was full of French soldiers; yet
all went off cheerfully, until our people called for “Vive Henri
Quatre,” which these Napoleonists fiercely opposed, and a row ensued,
which terminated at last amicably. The ramparts of Beauvais form a
delicious promenade, which I enjoyed; whilst F. and Hitchins were
gadding about from shop to shop, buying lace, cambric, &c.
_22d._--I intended marching forward to-morrow, but Quartermaster
Robertson, who was sent on to take up our quarters, returned at
midnight with the intelligence that all the villages ahead of us were
still full of troops. Relinquished the idea.
Major Dyas came to coffee. When he heard of the insult offered to
F. he insisted upon going immediately to pull my host by the nose.
“_Bloody D._” was one of those jewels we received at the Union
from the Irish artillery--tall, gaunt, and muscular, with a most
truculent physiognomy. His cognomen was received on account of the
ferocity he had displayed in the Irish Rebellion. Now he had become
a gallant Lothario (not a gay one), and, if report spoke true, had
already two wives, and had nearly succeeded in picking up a third in
Paris--daughter of a gentleman of very good property, at whose house
he had been billeted. Strange how insinuating these Irishmen are. To
look at D. one would never suppose that a girl, young enough to be
his daughter, handsome, and rich withal, could ever have fallen in
love with such a man; and yet those best acquainted with the affair
assured me that it was indubitably true.
_23d._--Great market or fair--immense quantity of woollen cloth,
manufacture of the town and neighbourhood. Preparations making for
a grand procession in honour of Jeanne Hachette, who distinguished
herself in the defence of the place against the Duc de Bourgogne in
1740. Until I looked into the history, I thought it had been, as some
of the people informed me, in honour of Joan of Arc. Beauvais is a
gloomy, old-fashioned town; the streets very narrow, and, during our
stay, very dirty. What they might be in summer I can’t guess, but
they look as if they must be then redolent of the same sulphurous
odour as those of Paris.
_24th._--Marched to Grandvilliers; everything looking wretched, for
the day was dark and excessively cold: in France, on such occasions,
there are no redeeming features. The country is in most cases without
enclosures, and the few trees, stripped of their verdure, present
most cheerless pictures, unrelieved by any appearance of warmth
or comfort about the mean and wretched-looking dwellings of the
peasantry. These, when we entered the village, presented rather a
better appearance than usual, for all were _en habits de Dimanche_,
which was the day. Lodged F. in the post-house (here an inn), and
then went round our billets. Village very large, two broad streets
crossing each other, but the houses all farms or cottages, most of
them of mud, like the Devonshire cobbe, and all thatched; the site
of the place a dead flat, but pretty well clothed with trees. At
our post-house we procured a tolerably decent though very small
parlour, the chimney of which, however, smoked so terribly that,
spite of the weather, we were obliged to sit constantly with the door
open; up-stairs (this was a sort of addition to the original house
projecting into the yard) a bedroom of the same size, in which were
two beds; and nothing could exceed the astonishment of our friend the
chambermaid at our arrangement of sleeping together. The inhabitants
here were ordered by beat of drum to feed us. We now came under the
command of Sir Denis Park, who commands at Calais and up the road as
far as this place, he having the arrangement of the embarkations.
We lived well at our inn, and remedied the open door by a large
screen. Every evening we saw company--_i. e._, our officers--and,
although the weather was very cold, passed our time pleasantly
enough. One day an immense market or fair afforded us ample
amusement; another, our attention and curiosity were excited by the
arrival of a troop of the National Guard, _à cheval_, from Beauvais;
but, after staying the whole afternoon and night, they departed the
next morning without our being a bit the wiser. One day the Earl of
Westmeath arrived, and stopped all night; his lordship was obliged to
put up with the rooms we had rejected.
_January 1, 1816._--At last the order for our advance having arrived,
we marched this morning from Grandvilliers, several _paysannes_ of
the village following the troop as volunteers for l’Angleterre,
betraying the effects of idleness in country quarters. Whilst
preparing to set off, our host presented a bill for our living, &c.,
amounting to nine napoleons, which I was about to pay, when Hitchins
and F. interfered, asking the good man whether he would have dared
appear before a Prussian officer with such a thing, and telling him
after the manner his countrymen had treated all other countries that
he ought to think himself well off in being treated so leniently.
He did not subscribe to this, and an argument ensued which I was
sorry for, but was weak enough to allow my better intentions to be
overruled; and at last, when Monsieur begged I would at least certify
that he had not been paid, I did so on the bill, stating as reason
that the inhabitants had been ordered to feed us. Our march to Poix,
the next halting-place, was through a country that never could be
very interesting, still less so in its wintry garb, until, from the
summit of a high hill, we looked down upon the lovely valley in
which that village is situated. On arriving we found all the world
_en habit de Dimanche_ celebrating the opening of the new year. The
principal features in this celebration were the kisses exchanging
in all directions, the enormous stiffly-starched caps of the women,
and the music that paraded continually through the streets. The
_auberge_ we found so noisy, smoky, dirty, and the landlord such
an uncivil brute, that we immediately commenced a search for a
better billet. For a time success seemed uncertain; the houses of
the peasantry were too filthy to be thought of. Not far from the
_auberge_ we found a good house, but shut-up doors and windows. In
vain Hitchins and I knocked and threatened, or asked information of
its inhabitants from the neighbours; nobody would answer from within,
and nobody would answer without--at least more than “Je n’en sais
rien, monsieur.” At last we found a respectable sort of old-fashioned
farmhouse, the mistress of which (a widow) was factotum to the Prince
de Poix, proprietor of the village, and much of the neighbouring
country,--and hither we immediately removed, bag and baggage. A
labyrinth of dark passages led to a large, gloomy, wainscoted room,
in one corner of which was a great old-fashioned bed, with yellow
damask curtains, like the one we slept in at Breteuil. Here we
established ourselves, and Angélique had a small cabinet hard by,
whilst the men were put up in the more distant part of the house
occupied by the family. Although there was a large fireplace, in
which we kept up capital fires, the place was very cold; but a
couple of old screens in some measure remedied this, and at last we
thought ourselves tolerably comfortable. Our park was formed on the
site of the ancient castle of the princes, now almost entirely gone,
except a few mounds marking out the ground-plan. The village of Poix,
though covering a great deal of ground, is not large; for, except
the few houses standing contiguous to the _auberge_, the others are
scattered up and down, widely apart from each other. The situation
is extremely pretty in summer, probably beautiful: a deep and rather
narrow valley, with a small stream running through it; partly below
the village covered with woods, which also ran over and clothed
all the surrounding hills--not close thick copse, but composed of
trees and thickets of coppice, through which one might ride in
all directions on a carpet of turf. On a steep bank, immediately
opposite our dwelling, was the little church, unpretending, but
having a beautiful Gothic western doorway, over which, as a record
of revolutionary folly, was painted in large letters, “_Temple de
la Raison_;” these had been either whitewashed or painted over, but
insufficiently, for they were still distinctly legible. The weather
during our stay at Poix (seven days) was gloomy and very cold, yet we
managed to have many interesting rides amongst the woods. Hitchins
dined with us always, and came provided with some excellent wine,
which he procured from his own hostess. In one of our walks, at the
fork of the roads to Amiens and Abbeville, we found a diminutive
chapel with a figure of the Virgin in it, and as diminutive a priest,
humpbacked. He showed us his chapel, and we put some money into his
box, and so parted mutually satisfied. It was at this corner that I
met an elderly French veteran trudging towards the village in his
_capote_ and forage-cap, with the usual goat-skin knapsack: he was
_minus_ an arm, and upon questioning him I found that he had left it
at Waterloo. Something interesting in this interview.
In the village we found a corporal and four privates of the 18th
Hussars, stationed here for despatches. The corporal fell in love
with Angélique, and proposed for her, but was rejected. Her lover
gave us an alert one night to deliver a despatch (these hussars
always come in the night!), and I made sure we were off. It was an
order to have divine service every Sunday.
_8th._--At length on the 7th the order did come, and this day we
marched to Airaines through a sufficiently dismal country, and
weather very cold and gloomy, still followed by the girls from
Grandvilliers. Some part of the country, from its hilliness and
numerous orchards, in some measure resembled Devonshire; but as we
approached the town these cease, and we saw again only extensive and
treeless plains.
Airaines at first sight was not calculated to remove the unpleasant
feeling excited by its neighbourhood: rather large for a country
town, and lying on a gentle slope; its streets irregular, and
buildings mean, dirty, and ruinous-looking;--altogether very gloomy.
Our billet was on the _auberge_ where the diligences stopped, a
house of very inferior description, in which we did not establish
ourselves without difficulty, and then wretchedly enough. For
ourselves we got a room with two dirty beds in it, and only the
coarsest kind of furniture; floor inch-thick in dirt, and having
chinks between the planks, so gaping that we could see everything
going on below--and being over the gateway, the great lounge of the
postilions, _gens-d’armes_, &c., we had not only the advantage of
all their conversation, but also of their eternal tobacco-pipes;
also the full benefit of a most cooling breeze continually blowing
through the gateway. The only room we could procure for Angélique was
occupied by a postilion, and he was unwilling to evacuate, so that a
little tyranny became necessary to gain possession. We turned him
out _vi et armis_. In this wretched place we remained a fortnight,
during which the weather, always gloomy, was at times bitterly cold,
or heavy rain. As the whole troop could not be lodged here, it was
necessary to detach Maunsell with one division to a village at least
five miles off; and Wells, pretending there was no lodging to be
procured here, asked leave to accompany him--notwithstanding which,
our surgeon, Ambrose, who overtook us here, immediately obtained very
comfortable quarters. Hitchins also was uncommonly well lodged in the
house of an old smuggler. Our park was formed on an open space by
the road to Abbeville, just without the town, where, as the weather
was too cold for our guard to remain in a tent, I asked the mayor to
procure them accommodation in a house hard by. This he refused, until
I made preparations to bring our park into the market-place, which
alarmed him so much that he immediately complied. The market-place,
by the way, was precisely similar to the old buildings one sees in
English country towns; and here the two Sundays during our stay I
performed divine service. To pass our time here we sometimes rode
about the dreary neighbourhood, where we discovered a ruined castle;
and in another part a rather pretty village, with a fine manor-house
and park; but the people soon drove us away from this last, not only
by their abuse, but even pelting us with stones. In bad weather
we resorted to a wretched billiard-table opposite our inn, where
I taught F. the game, and drank bitter coffee to my cigars. There
was nothing extraordinary in her frequenting this table, as it is
customary for females to do so; and there were seldom any other
people present than our own.
In addition to our other occupations, the diligence afforded a
daily and short amusement as it stopped at our inn-door. I can see
now the great lumbering machine just drawn up, a clown in a blue
smock-frock, linen forage-cap with a huge peak sticking straight
out, and a long coach-whip in hand, seated on the near wheeler,
guiding by cord-reins the three cart-horses harnessed abreast as
leaders; and two tall soldier-like _gens-d’armes_, in their neat blue
uniforms and cocked-hats, stepping up to the door, and whilst one
examines the way-bill, the other mounts the step of the vehicle and
scrutinises the passengers. They were fine fellows these, and we got
tolerably intimate with them. Every evening Hitchins came to us and
played a rubber of casino. One evening standing at our window, we
saw some sheep come down the opposite street; two or three went into
the passage of a house, the door of which was instantly closed by an
old woman, and we both exclaimed, “Ah, the wretch! she steals the
sheep.” Our servants who stood by laughed, and explained that the old
shepherd (who now appeared sauntering slowly along) was the guardian
of the town flock, which he conducted to pasture daily.
Accordingly the next morning the old man again marched under our
window towards the fields, blowing his horn, at which sound the door
opposite again opened, and out sallied the same sheep following the
old man, and forming with others assembling from all quarters a large
flock, which we found him with in the fields when we went to ride.
_22d._--Marched to Abbeville. Billeted on a velvet manufacturer
with a pretty wife; excellent house, comfortable living. Visit the
cathedral and walk about the town.
Forgot that I tried one of my men by a court-martial at Airaines
upon a charge of stealing bacon, brought against him by a peasant
of the village where Maunsell was quartered. Sent on to Abbeville
for a captain, and Close came over for the purpose. The _patois_ of
the witnesses was so mixed up with English as to astonish us; one in
particular we shrewdly suspected of being an English deserter. It
was, however, only the _patois_ of Picardy. “Yes” was much oftener
used than “oui” by them. On our way here from Airaines, descending to
the Somme at Point de Remy, I saw a very large Roman encampment on a
neighbouring hill: country about the river pretty as usual. Here most
of my horses were put up in the riding-school of the cavalry barrack.
Our host’s family consisted of himself, a grown-up son, a female
cousin, and his pretty wife, who was very civil, and went shopping
with F., but disgusted me at breakfast by holding up a beastly
pocket-handkerchief and spitting at it.
_23d._--Much pleased at marching to Montreuil, as we had expected Rue
and Nampont would have been our destination. Comfortable inn--the
same Sterne was at; and our _salle_ the identical room in which
LaFleur slept--so said our host. Excellent dinner: Hitchins dined
with us, and we drank two bottles of prime champagne. Wells left us
here to join my old troop at St Pol. As we were tired, we slept so
soundly that we never knew until morning that the house had been set
on fire during the night by a drunken officer of infantry.
_24th._--Wretched morning, snowing heavily, and very cold. Hitchins
suffered much from our ride, and got sulky because F. and Angélique
laughed at him. Stopped at Samer to see our friends the Demoiselles
Mallet, and get some hot wine.
At Boulogne our billet was on a capital house; but our host, an old
officer (I think colonel), extremely sulky and disobliging--obliged
to send to a restaurateur’s for our dinner. Walked about the town and
on the ramparts. No snow here, though the weather was excessively raw
and windy. Ramparts pretty; the only trees in the neighbourhood are
on them.
At night had gone to bed, expecting to remain a day or two, and were
not yet asleep when some one tapped at our window, which opened into
a little flagged court. I got up and found a hussar (as usual), who
brought me a note, which I could not read until he went and got a
light. It was an order to march to-morrow to Guines.
_25th._--As our landlord (commandant of the National Guard) had
been anything but civil, we set off without taking leave of him.
Other cavalry besides ourselves had halted in Boulogne, and we
found the road covered with troops, stragglers, and baggage. Amidst
these we struggled on as far as Marquise, where we left the chaussée
for a villanous cross-road, by which, about noon, we arrived at
Guines, a very pretty little town, and the day being fine, a
very cheerful-looking one. Our billet (if billet it were) was a
capital one--the Chateau de Beauscite; the owner, M. le Baron de
Guesclin, with Madame and his daughters, received us most kindly.
The family consisted of M. le Baron, a good-natured, but ugly, and
not very genteel-looking man, about sixty; Madame la Baronne, a
jolly good-looking woman of forty; one very sickly-looking daughter
about twenty-two; another a year or so older, hideously marked
with small-pox, but extremely obliging and good-natured; and a
tall awkward son of about twenty. The house comfortable and well
furnished. We were treated quite on the footing of guests, and even
welcome ones. Style of living much the same as that of an English
country gentleman of easy fortune. After dinner the Baron proposed
showing us our room and the house. Passing through his own bedroom,
with a knowing wink he gave me to understand that he did not follow
modern fashions in sleeping separate from his wife; for, pointing to
the ample and handsome bed, he exclaimed loud enough to be heard by
all, “M., voilà la fabrique des enfans!” Madame looked archly over
her shoulder at me and burst out laughing.
_26th._--Fine day. Breakfast of tea, &c., got up expressly for us,
as when alone they have no such regular meal, but merely take a cup
of coffee. Afterwards the son showed me the stables, stud, farm,
&c., and then, mounted on a long-tailed Norman horse, with military
saddle and bridle, took us to see the obelisk erected on the spot
where Blanchard descended after crossing the Channel in his balloon.
The country pretty, because well wooded; and from the hill I once
more saw the white cliffs of England, although I will not pretend to
have experienced any very great delight in so doing, as the future
promised nothing good, and I would rather have remained in France.
Reduction, Woolwich duties, and insipidity from the total absence of
excitement--such was the prospect before me.
In the afternoon a very handsome young man (an officer in some
cavalry corps) came in and dined with us. His father, an old
gentleman of good fortune in the neighbourhood, had served many
years in the hussars, and was (I believe) Madame’s brother. In the
evening came in the family confessor--a fat, greasy priest--who made
himself quite at home; but they did not seem over well pleased with
his company. Servants singing in the kitchen: opened a little trap in
the wall of a cupboard which communicated with the kitchen to hear a
young girl from St Omer sing “Brulant d’Amour” and “Partant pour la
Guerre,” which she did with great sweetness. Our hopes of enjoying
this pleasant billet for some days disappointed by the order to march
to-morrow into Calais, only eight miles off.
_27th._--Gloomy cold day. A mass to be celebrated for the soul of
Louis XVI. I had promised M. le Baron to allow my men to assist in
the procession, but instead was obliged to take leave as they were
about to begin. Early in the morning all the front of the chateau
was hung with black cloth. Nothing could be kinder or even more
affectionate than our leave-taking, and Madame obliged F. to wrap up
in a rich _pelerin_ of her own, which we were to leave at Quillacq’s.
The distance being so short, we were not long on the road, which
for the most part lay along the canal as far as St Pierre, a great
straggling suburb of Calais, in which we were to halt. Nothing could
be worse than our accommodations here--horses and men scattered about
by twos and threes, far and wide; some of them were sent back almost
to Guines--so near at least as to hear distinctly the church-bells.
As for us, we were put into a farmhouse, where they gave us a room
without a fireplace, insufferable in such a season; therefore, being
obliged to go into Calais to report our arrival to Webber Smith, I
left F. and Hitchins hunting for another quarter. After some trouble
I got a billet from the Quartermaster-General on the Lion d’Argent,
in Calais, kept by an impudent English scoundrel named Oakshot, who
was not at all well pleased at our being put on him. Rode back to St
Pierre, where I found F. and Hitchins in a bedroom they had procured
at a dirty smoky _brasserie_; so we all adjourned together to the
Silver Lion.
Here we were detained some time, which, however, was of less
consequence, as we were lodged well and fed well. In other respects,
however, the detention was anything but pleasant. Calais at the best
of times must be a dismal stupid hole; at this season of storms,
cold, rain, mud, &c. &c. it was scarcely endurable. Great part of my
day was passed at or about the pier, whence, from time to time as
vessels arrived, we shipped off some of our people.
Nothing can be imagined more harassing and destructive than this
process of embarkation. For example, my people, as before mentioned,
were dispersed in all directions round the neighbourhood, even
to the distance of six or eight miles, by twos and threes, &c.,
so that they were under no control whatever. Meantime the guns,
ammunition-waggons, &c., all dismounted and ready to put on board,
remained exposed to all the weather on the pier. At daylight in
the morning, according to orders, men and horses assembled there
also, and remained--rain, hail, wind or snow (of all which we
had plenty)--until dusk in the evening, when they were permitted
to return to their billets for the night. Nothing could be more
subversive of discipline and harassing to the men, or more ruinous
to the horses; yet, from the system adopted by those who ruled the
transport service, it could not well be avoided, since the vessels
engaged were all schooners, sloops, &c.; and it was necessary,
when any of these returned for a fresh cargo, that the embarkation
should be as prompt as possible, not only for the more expeditiously
getting the troops across, but because they were obliged to leave the
harbour with the same tide, or remain twelve hours. These vessels
did not go all to one place; thus my troop was landed by sixes and
sevens at Dover, Sandwich, Deal, Ramsgate, &c., and then assembled
at Canterbury. Webber Smith was our immediate commanding officer
here; and Sir Denis Park, who commanded, occasionally rode down to
see how things were going on, so that there was no getting out of
the way, and our only relief was an occasional stroll about the
muddy, dismal streets, lounging in some of the shops, &c. Thus time
hung heavily on our hands. Hitchins had left us on the very first
evening of our arrival at the Silver Lion, and we sadly missed his
kind attentions--especially F., who, whilst I was at the pier, had no
one to escort her about, and of course in such a place going alone
was out of the question. I found a pleasing companion to while away
time at the pier in the harbour-master, an old captain of the French
navy, and a well-informed, gentlemanly person, from whom I picked
up a good deal of information. I cannot omit noting the fact that
a female bookseller here, whose _magazin_ we sometimes frequented,
one day let out that she implicitly believed every one of the absurd
lies respecting England contained in General Pelet’s book, and would
hardly credit our contradiction of them.
At last our tedious detention came, like all things else, to a
conclusion. Two sloops, capable of containing all the remainder of
my troop, came in one evening too late to sail before next morning,
and with this last party I decided on embarking. When Angélique heard
this she came and begged I would lend her a suit of my plain clothes,
as the prefect had prohibited French women going with the English,
and had already stopped many. Here was a dilemma. My old Scotch
quartermaster, however, got us out of it. I don’t know how he passed
the gates, but he did manage on the morning of the 25th January 1816
to smuggle Angélique on board before daylight, and conceal her below,
without the necessity of changing her female for male attire.
After breakfast we embarked and immediately sailed. Webber Smith went
with us, as we were the very last of the Royal Horse-Artillery. The
weather was gloomy, cold, and stormy, but the wind was fair, and we
were off Dover early in the afternoon. The tide would not admit even
our little sloop into this miserable harbour before midnight, and
she was hove to almost within speaking distance of the pier-head.
Not relishing this position, we were glad to avail ourselves of
a pilot-gig that came off and go ashore--although these fellows
charged us a guinea a-head for thus carrying us about 200 yards.
After an early dinner at the York Hotel, Smith set off post for
Blackheath, where his family was residing.
_26th._--To Canterbury. F. and Angélique in a post-chaise, to which
I and Milward (carrying his lance) served as an escort, for I had no
men to march with.
So ended the memorable campaign of 1815.
THE END.
PRINTED BY WILLIAM BLACKWOOD AND SONS, EDINBURGH.
FOOTNOTES:
[1] There was a species of Malmsey Madeira, the most delicious
wine imaginable. The cellar seemed well stocked, and our table
consequently was well supplied.
[2] These people were deputies sent from the Provisional Government
to treat with the Duke, but I have never made out yet who he of the
decoration might have been.
[3] The close Prussian collar, now so well known to the British
army, was a novelty to us then: our collars were low, and cut down
in front. The cavalry and horse-artillery particularly affected very
narrow sloping collars.
[4] This must have been a mistake, for the Duke dates his despatches
from Loures on the 30th June, and the headquarters would hardly
have been established in a place so utterly destroyed as is here
described. Perhaps the place was La Chapelle, which I find in the
map. My recollection of the scene here portrayed is quite perfect
even now, although not of the name.
[5] This makes it appear that my notes are right, answering with the
map as they do.
[6] We did this to be enabled to march more expeditiously and freely,
observing this road to be quite clear of troops.
[7] Bourget.
[8] Mistake. They passed at St Germain on the 30th June, and were
in position between Plessis Picquet and St Cloud, with reserve at
Versailles, on 2d July.--See Duke’s despatch.
[9] Several regiments from America marched through Garges this
evening, and took up their station in front--fine corps of veterans,
all having served in the Peninsula, and subsequently in America.
Many a cheer from old comrades greeted their arrival. It was a
soul-stirring sight, the proud march of these well-tried troops into
our camp.
[10] Amongst these parties some were of the _haut-ton_, and I saw
many very elegant women. Indeed, amongst the bourgeoise there was no
lack of beauty, and in manner much to admire, since they infinitely
surpass our countrywomen of the same class in gracefulness of
carriage and gentility of address.
[11] Three windmills and an obelisk stand upon the summit next
the gap, and a single mill on the isolated hill beyond it. The
neighbourhood of Paris may be said to be characterised by the
windmills which occupy every height, and thus testify to the sluggish
nature of the streams watering the plains by the want of water-power.
[12] The Prussians seize all forage not under escort and for our own
use. Had they known this last was not the case, our non-commissioned
officer would have availed little.
[13] In English we have no word which will translate.
[14] The _cornette_.
[15] Le Nôtre had five feet (French) difference of level between one
side and the other to remove. There is no accounting for taste.
[16] It once was a garden, but was destroyed by the great fire.
[17] These _bergeries_ are very numerous in the neighbourhood of
Paris, where it seems the fashion among the great proprietors to
keep flocks of merinos. Almost every chateau has its _bergerie_ and
_vacherie_. We have one here in Stain belonging to M. le Marquis de
Livry, as I know to my cost. The _bergerie_ consists of low sheds,
forming a square. Within, they are fitted up with low racks for hay.
The sheep are kept in these all the winter, and at night during the
summer.
[18] I cannot FEEL in public, especially when a _showman_ is telling
me in a garbled manner that which would spontaneously flash across
the memory if left to one’s self. When we do not _feel_, we _can’t
write_.
[19] Angélique told me since that Mademoiselle Rose fled to the woods
with the rest of the villagers, and only returned when they did.
[20] I suspect a fact I have since remembered must have suggested the
idea of charging us with the lead. Finding the horses very ragged
when I first joined the troop, I ordered all their manes to be
plaited and loaded with lead, of which a sufficiency could have been
picked up about the chateau or lawn, or off the ends or remnants of
the _already_ cut pipes.
[21] The two reserve troops.
[22] Under the cliffs at the other extremity, near the Barrière de
Clichy, is a similar mound, originating, no doubt, in the same way.
It is now covered with fine trees, and forms an agreeable object as
one approaches the Barrière. Its name (_Monceau_) perhaps points to
its origin.
[23] Early riser as I am, my neighbour here beat me considerably,
for I always used to hear him harnessing his horses for work before
daylight, which he did with a pretty annoying quantity of noise and
chattering.
[24] To me the most interesting part of this mound was its history,
rising abruptly as it does so much above the surrounding ground. Is
it an enormous barrow, like Silbury, or is it a natural accumulation
of alluvium?
[25] It must be remembered that in those days these, as well as many
other things quite common in England, were novelties to Englishmen.
[26] The rough journal from which I have with much trouble compiled
this copy is here so confused and imperfect as to be of little or no
use; and my great auxiliaries--letters to my wife, from which I was
enabled to correct or confirm dates, and to make more circumstantial
many subjects only mentioned in the journal--I have unwittingly
destroyed. During my stay at Stain, too, I wrote by fits and starts.
Amongst new scenes of every kind, and new people, the excitement was
too great to admit of shutting one’s self up for study or writing.
Thus, from the period I have now reached, my means are so few, that
it is quite impossible to bring my journal (as I wished) down to our
final departure from France--as complete as it might have been.
[27] At three in the morning, when Lord Charles and his companion
immediately landed and tried to persuade me to do the same, but I
remained on board until daylight.
[28] She cooked for us here.
TRANSCRIBER’S NOTE
Footnote [21] is referenced twice from page 197.
Obvious typographical errors and punctuation errors have been
corrected after careful comparison with other occurrences within
the text and consultation of external sources.
Some hyphens in words have been silently removed, some added,
when a predominant preference was found in the original book.
Except for those changes noted below, all misspellings in the text,
and inconsistent or archaic usage, have been retained.
Pg 15: ‘sout de vrais brigands’ replaced by ‘sont de vrais brigands’.
Pg 62: ‘the poperty of’ replaced by ‘the property of’.
Pg 71: ‘Inhabiants there’ replaced by ‘Inhabitants there’.
Pg 87: ‘cornetts’ replaced by ‘cornettes’.
Pg 115: ‘Cossac’s wounds’ replaced by ‘Cossack’s wounds’.
Pg 183: ‘M. le Berger de’ replaced by ‘M. le Berger and’.
Pg 197: ‘Garges, Arnonville’ replaced by ‘Garges, Arnouville’.
Pg 244: ‘pleasing undulalation’ replaced by ‘pleasing undulation’.
Pg 278: ‘the slighest moment’ replaced by ‘the slightest moment’.
Pg 286: ‘a a delicate pink’ replaced by ‘a delicate pink’.